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purrincess-chat · 3 years

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH11

And here the plot thickens! There’s a lot coming up in this next section that I hope you will all love. I’ve spent the most time in this middle portion, and I’m really happy with a lot of the character arcs coming up. Enjoy!

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Chapter 11: Rain on Me

“It’s not much, but…”

Tall columns stretched up to the ceiling on either side of the grand staircase, and Marinette’s reflection beamed back at her in the tile. The foyer was bright and airy—a stark contrast to the duller hues of Adrien’s house. Macy’s home was grand but also inviting.

Eliott shoved Macy playfully. “I’ll say. My foyer is much bigger.”

Macy shoved him back, sticking out her tongue. “C’mon, I’ll show you my room.” She bounced up the stairs cheerfully, leading them to the door at the end of the hall. “This whole wing is mine actually. I’ve got a movie theater, a private bathroom—I even have my own sound studio.”

“I’ve begged my father to build a theater, but he doesn’t like the idea of having a lot of teenagers in his house,” Adrien said with a hint of envy. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

“You can look at whatever you want,” Macy giggled.

Martin and Eliott exchanged looks.

“I’ll go with them.” Martin followed them up the hall.

“Marinette, come check out the closet. Macy’s handbag collection is to die for.” Eliott took her hand and pulled her into Macy’s room. “Julius, can you bring us up some tea? Set it up on the terrace.”

Macy’s butler nodded politely before retreating from the room.

“You’re really comfortable here,” Marinette remarked as Eliott threw open the closet doors.

"Macy and I grew up together. We've been friends forever, so it's almost like I live here too," he said, sifting through a rack of designer dresses. "We're basically family."

"That's so awesome. I wish I had someone like that," Marinette said. She examined the photos hanging on Macy's vanity, smiling young faces that were all too familiar. "Who's the girl in these pictures? She looks a lot like you. Is she your sister?"

Eliott stopped, cautiously crossing the room to stand beside her. He shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. "No, that's me.”

Marinette's eyebrows raised. "Oh. Oh. Okay." She nodded, turning back to the pictures awkwardly.

"Is that okay?" Eliott asked.

"Of course."

Eliott relaxed, trailing his thumb over the edge of the photo. "I started transitioning the summer before collége. I’m lucky that my family is so supportive," he explained. “Not many people at school know besides Macy—just a few teachers. I’m always a bit scared to tell new people because I don’t know how they’ll react, and even though we haven’t known each other that long, I trust you, Marinette.”

"Um, thank you for telling me." She clasped her hands together. “It means a lot to know you see me that way. After everything… I needed friends like you and Macy.”

"I should be thanking you. I’ve changed for the better every day since I met you. I can tell you have that effect on people,” he said. “Besides, it's who I am, and I don’t want to hide it from my friends. It’s just… not everyone is so understanding.”

"Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Marinette said. Her cheeks warmed when Eliott scooped her into a tight hug.

Things in her life were so different now. Different school, different people, but deep down, Marinette was still the same. Loving her friends wasn’t a bad thing. Alya may have turned her back on their friendship, but that didn’t mean that everyone in her life would. Eliott’s confidence in her was proof enough that these people would stay by her side.

“You two can go ahead out to the terrace,” Macy’s voice sounded in the hall, and a moment later, she appeared in the doorway. “Did you show her my limited-edition handbag collection?” She leaned against the frame with a knowing look.

“Yeah, she thinks they’re great.” Eliott winked.

“Good,” Macy said. “We don’t let just anyone see them, so you should feel honored.”

“I do. Moving to a new school was really hard, so I’m glad to have made such good friends so quickly,” Marinette said. “You’ve both changed my life too.”

“Aww,” Macy and Eliott cooed.

Eliott lifted her hand to his lips. “Don’t worry. From now on, we’re here for you, Marinette.”

“Yeah, you’re one of us now.”

♪♫♪ The Wrecked and the Worried ♪♫♪

“Thanks for taking me home,” Marinette said as Gorilla pulled out onto the street. “Macy lives so far away from my house.”

Adrien smiled at her, the warmth from his chest spreading to his cheeks. Marinette was so much happier with her new friends. Seeing her face light up when she laughed at one of Eliott’s jokes, or the slight furrow in her brow when Macy waved 2000 euros away like it was pocket change set his mind at ease.

The more distance Marinette put between her and Francoise-Dupont, the happier she became, and the more Lila’s threats lost their bite. Out of everyone in their class, he had always been drawn to Marinette. Maybe it was her courage or her compassionate nature that he admired so much or maybe her optimistic attitude. She’d lost everything because of Lila, and yet, she’d still managed to pick up the pieces and find happiness again.

In such a short time, he’d become so protective of her. He never wanted that smile to fade or those brilliant bluebell eyes to dim. More than anything, he wanted her to be free from the past, and he’d do anything to help her get there. Marinette deserved the best—she shared her light freely all the time and never asked for anything in return, so now he was going to do the same for her.

“It’s no trouble. I’m happy that I get to spend time together with just you,” he said. “Your new friends are really nice.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about Macy. She just gets really excited.” Marinette winced.

“It’s okay,” he chuckled. “Your designs look amazing so far.”

Her cheeks darkened three shades. “I dunno about that. They’re still pretty messy…Clara probably won’t like them.”

“Why not? You’re really talented. I’m sure she will love them.” He assured her.

“Thanks, I guess. I’m just so nervous about it.” She hugged her bag to her chest and bit her lip. “I still can’t believe I have an opportunity like this right now. It’s always been my dream to be a designer, but I pictured it as something I wouldn’t achieve until I was older. I feel so under-qualified.”

“You’re already a great designer, Marinette, and people are starting to see that,” he said. “You shouldn’t be so modest.”

“I know, but I can’t help it,” she said. “I don’t want to brag or seem full of myself.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks you’re full of yourself. It’s not wrong to brag every once in a while, especially for someone as incredible as you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and offered her a warm smile. “We’re all just proud of you, and we want you to be proud of yourself. You deserve it.”

Marinette bit back a smile, cheeks pink and eyes shining in the dim light. How had he gotten so lucky to meet someone like her? She was so smart and driven and kind. Unlike Lila. Marinette was going to change the world for real someday—Clara was just step one.

“Well, looks like this is me,” she said as the limo slowed to a stop. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“You’re welcome, anytime.” Adrien pulled her in for a hug, kissing both of her cheeks. “See you soon.”

“See you!”

Adrien leaned back against the seat with a sigh, drumming his fingers as the limo pulled away. Lila needed to be stopped at all costs. If she got in the way of Marinette’s future, he’d never forgive her. He hated to admit it, but after his conversation with Nino and Alya, he’d officially run out of nice options. Lila would continue to use people for as long as she could unless they did something. Unless he did something.

Conflict made his skin crawl, but he owed this to Marinette. If he hadn’t been so complaisant, she wouldn’t have changed schools. She and Alya might still be friends, and he could even see Nino outside of class now. This was all his fault.

Granted, if she had stayed, she may not have the same opportunities now, and she never would have met her new friends. There was some good that had come of this. He couldn’t change the past, but he would make sure Marinette had a bright future—one devoid of Lila and her lies.

“Can we stop by the Grand Paris?” he asked, and after a small huff, the limo changed course. “Thank you!”

When Adrien arrived at Chloe’s suite, she was dressed in a silk robe with a green face mask and cucumbers over her eyes. Several stylists worked on her nails, and although she couldn’t see him, she knew the moment he approached.

“Did you come for a mani-pedi?” she asked.

He shifted his weight. “You told me to come back when I was ready to take down Lila, and… I’m ready.”

“Why should I help you? You didn’t help me when I needed you.” Chloe opened her mouth, and her butler placed a small chocolate on her tongue with a pair of tongs.

“Because we’re friends, and I know you’d do anything for me,” he said. When she opened her mouth for another chocolate, undeterred, he added, “because I know you still sleep with your teddy bear.”

A wicked grin curled on her lips, cracking the half-dried, green paste on her face. “Blackmailing me, Adrikins? I’m impressed. You really have come a long way.”

“Please, Chloe? I’ve tried talking to Alya and Nino. I’ve tried convincing Lila to change. I know I screwed up before, but there has to be something else we can do to stop her.” Adrien dropped to his knees, pressing his palms together. “I’m literally begging.”

Chloe hummed thoughtfully to herself while she chewed another chocolate. “How is Dupain-Cheng these days?” she asked.

Adrien’s heart jumped to his throat. “She’s fine, and I want to keep it that way.”

Chloe’s lip twitched, and she sat up abruptly. Her staff scrambled to remove the cucumbers from her eyes as she stood up to meet Adrien’s gaze head-on. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love with her. Why else do you care so much about Lila other than the fact that she’s tarnishing Marinette’s reputation?”

“She’s just a friend, and I don’t want Lila to turn everyone against her,” Adrien insisted.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Even I don’t believe you when you say that anymore, Adrikins.” She turned and waddled carefully to the bathroom, the bottom of her robe trailing the ground. “Lila might lie to others, but you lie to yourself. I can’t decide which is more painful to watch.”

“Chloe-”

She paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. “I will think of something to help you with Lila if it’s so important to you,” she said. “Now, I’ve got a date with a hot bubble bath, so beat it.”

“Thank you, Chloe-”

“Out!” She pointed to the door.

Adrien scurried from her suite, mashing the elevator button repeatedly. He pictured Marinette’s smiling face from that afternoon contrasted against her anguished sobs from only a few days before. Lila would pay for those tears, and Adrien would make sure she never caused them again. He’d protect Marinette Dupain-Cheng, no matter the cost.

♪♫♪ Runaways ♪♫♪

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette waved to Macy and Eliott outside Martin’s apartment a few nights later.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Macy gestured to Eliott’s open limo.

“Yeah, I’ll manage. The subway isn’t too far from here, and it’s out of your way,” she insisted.

Eliott pursed his lips but didn’t press. “Alright then. See you tomorrow.” He blew her a kiss.

Marinette started up the street alone, enjoying a brief moment of solitude. After changing schools in the middle of the term, she was in need of a good study session, and her new friends were more than happy to oblige. Martin’s ritzy apartment building was smaller than Macy and Eliott’s sprawling mansions, but still far more luxurious than Marinette’s home.

“For having so much, your new friends are surprisingly generous.” Tikki peeked out from her purse.

“Just because they’re rich doesn’t mean they’re not nice people. Look at Adrien. He’s the nicest person I know.” She sighed dreamily before snapping herself out of it. “Martin, Macy, and Eliott have become people I can really count on. I owe them a lot for embracing me the way they have.”

“Do you think they’re worthy replacements for Rena Rouge and Carapace?” Tikki asked.

Marinette pursed her lips with a hum. “Time will tell. I want to be absolutely certain this time. No more mistakes.”

“Oh my gosh, hey!” A strangely familiar voice cooed.

Marinette stopped short, turning over her shoulder as an arm snaked through her own and tugged. Red hair blurred her vision until bright green eyes locked with hers.

“Wow, what are the odds that we’d run into each other. It’s so awesome to see you.”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed as Gabrielle dragged her further up the street. Her tight grip stretched Marinette’s shoulders painfully, but something in her voice seemed off. It was familiar and friendly, which was already puzzling enough, but Marinette also detected a hint of…fear?

“Gabrielle, what’s-”

“There are some creepy guys following me, play along, and I’ll leave you alone for a month,” she hissed. “So, what are you up to?”

Marinette grasped her forearm, giving the illusion of familiarity, even if it was to keep her shoulder from popping out of socket. “Uh, just out and about.”

“Hey, we should see a movie next week.” Gabrielle picked up the pace as they rounded a corner.

Marinette struggled to keep up with her long legs. “Yeah, totally!” She used a parked car to catch a glimpse of their assailants in the reflection. “Do you wanna take the subway with me?”

“We need to shake them off first,” Gabrielle said under her breath.

Marinette pressed her lips together, then nodded. “Follow me.”

Gabrielle arched a brow as Marinette took the lead, veering toward the park across the street. She cut diagonally across to the other exit, stealing a glance over her shoulder as they turned another corner. They were still being followed, their assailants picking up speed to match their pace. Marinette checked the time on her phone, abruptly darting across the street to the next block.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Gabrielle asked through clenched teeth.

“Trust me,” Marinette said.

Gabrielle eyed her skeptically but didn’t argue. Marinette pictured the route in her head, imagining the overhead view. She knew this city better than anyone, and as she ducked around one more corner, she finally made the plunge down into the subway. Gabrielle tensed, but Marinette grabbed her wrist and picked up the pace. They slid onto the subway car just before the doors closed, watching smugly as their pursuers slowed to a stop at the base of the stairs just as the train pulled off.

“Thanks.” Gabrielle averted her gaze stubbornly. “You didn’t have to help me.”

“I know,” Marinette said. She grabbed onto the pole as Gabrielle pulled out her phone and resumed ignoring her. “So, what are you doing out walking? Don’t you have a chauffeur?”

“None of your business.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed on the apron sticking out of her bag, and Gabrielle shifted to hide it. Something weird was going on with her, but Gabrielle was right—it wasn’t any of her business. They were safe, and that was all that mattered.

“I can make it home from here,” Gabrielle said when the train stopped at the next station. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome…” Marinette leaned against the pole with a frown as Gabrielle stalked from the car.

“That was odd,” Tikki said from Marinette’s collar.

“Yeah,” Marinette said when the doors slid shut again. “Really odd.”

#marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #mdcsp #mdcspr #my writing

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binniedeactivated · 4 years

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saint. || soobin🌪(8)

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 3180

“it doesn’t mean anything and you know that”. soobin follows you while you were storming out of the building during dismissal. you weren’t angry at soobin. you were just tired of being humiliated and you hated how this situation dropped your self confidence.

“whatever soobin I don’t want to hear it anymore”.

“why are you so upset? i know you aren’t the type to give a fuck about something like this. so why are you like this now?”.

you stop your journey down the sidewalk just to calmly walk towards him. he was curious to what you had to say. you folded your arms and looked at him seriously.

“why are you defending this list so much soobin? why don’t you want me to be upset? making a ranking system based on someone’s looks is childish and whoever made it is heartless and cruel”.

“you can’t get angry over someone else’s opinion”,

“there you go again”.

“what?”.

“you’re defending it rather than talking about how heartless it is for someone to do something like that”.

“I’m just sa--”.

“did you have something to do with the list soobin?”. it made you even angrier at how he was staring at you. you saw the guilt in his eyes.

“did you have something to do with it soobin? admit it and don’t lie to me”.

“I don’t want you to--”.

“admit it soobin”.

finally realizing that he had no room for argument here he sighs, holding his head down. he knew he wouldn’t be able to look you in yours eyes and tell you the truth.

“yes”. he answers under his breath but too faint for your ears.

“yes soobin? did you say yes?!”.

he brings his head up giving you a melancholic expression. you admit you never saw him like this and you hated it. but he was an asshole. and he had to know that.

“yes I did”.

“are you kidding me right now?! are you really that shallow soobin?!”.

“I didn’t make it alone it was me and the guys”.

“so what! so because you all made it together that automatically makes you the good one?”.

“that isn’t what i’m trying to say”.

you scoff and continue walking the other way to your house. he follows you like a puppy, grabbing your wrists.

“what soobin? I don’t want to talk to you anymore”.

“please I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry”,

“sorry doesn’t cut it soobin! you know how many hearts you probably shattered today? did you think this was going to be something everyone in the school was going to get a kick out of!? You think this was really going to be the laughing stock of the entire school?!”.

“no I didn’t th--”.

“you don’t think about anything! clearly! do you know how hard it is for a girl in high school to have self confidence? do you know how hard it is for us to have a high self esteem?! do you know how much we tear ourselves down every day?! and for you to come to school one morning and tell a bunch of these girls that they are beyond undesirable just because you and your idiot friends don’t like the way they look is disgusting and it’s selfish! you should be ashamed of yourself!” . you screamed, storming off once again with tears in your eyes. you couldn’t believe him. how could he be like this?

for the first time in soobin’s high school career he felt horrible for what he’d done. “can you just forgive me please?”. he begs. the only reply he received was your silence while you walked the rest of your way home. He stood there and wallowed in your absence.

he bursted open the school doors surprised to still see a crowd by the bulletin board. “move out the way”. soobin directed, cutting in the middle of the crowd that was reading the rankings over. soobin took the poster by it’s corners and ripped it from the wall. he ripped it all the way until it was in the smallest of pieces and toss it in a trash nearby. The crowd watched his actions in shock looking for a reason behind them.

soobin sped home and slammed the door to his room. he didn’t know how to cope with his anger so he began throwing things around his room until he felt comfortable enough to cry. he sat against his closet wall with his knees to his chest and allowed his tears to flow like they never had before. you told him that you never wanted to talk to him again, and it hurt him more than he thought.

your tears were flowing just as much as his. but you had different reasoning. you knew soobin was a menace but you didn’t know he’d stoop to this level. and to be able to make it so that it effects you big time? your heart wrenched. but you couldn’t allow your pain to be shown amongst your parents or else they’d find out about soobin. and even though you said you never wanted to talk to him again you still didn’t want your parents to know about you two. It was weird settling in your room and not having anyone to talk to. it came to a point where you didn’t know if you were crying because you got humiliated today or because you missed soobin.

maybe a little bit of both.

you hated what he’d done but most importantly you shoved him away from you. you wanted soobin in your life more than anything, he’d just have to be willing to change his ways. and soobin knew it which is why he was rejecting calls from his friends for the rest of the day. he knew they’d be mad at the rankings poster being removed but he didn’t give a damn. he woke up in the middle of the night with the intentions to pee but soon it wasn’t just that. his loneliness was eating him alive and it only reminded him of how much he missed you. he couldn’t take it anymore.

he threw on his sneakers and grabbed a jacket before he hopped in his car and raced to your house. he stepped out and took a glance. there was one of many windows that could’ve been yours. in one of them he could make out a tv across from a bed that was much too big to fit one person so he figured that was your parents’ room. He chose another window and scooped up some pebbles from the ground and threw them as much as he could. It took about fifteen pebbles to wake you. it was like a rattling sound against your window and it was annoying the hell out of you. you approached your window and open it trying to see if there was some nearby tree branch brushing against it. but it wasn’t. it was soobin.

“what are you doing here?”.

“can you come down here so we can talk? please?”. he pleaded. you sigh and shut your window. he was lucky tomorrow was saturday. you slide your robe across your shoulders and slip on some slippers before trying to make your way to the front door with silence. you shut the door gently behind you and turn to see soobin, just a few feet away from your doorstep. he looked tired and stressed.

“you don’t have to say anything. I know how angry you are and you have every right to be. you probably felt like shit after what kevin said to you and i’m sorry. i tore the poster down from the bulletin board--”.

“tearing the poster down won’t mean that everyone forgets about what it said and the numbers they were ranked in. you messed them up in the head soobin. do you know that? why are you even here right now? because i hope it wasn’t because you wanted to tell me that”.

deep breaths soobin, deep breaths.

“I came here because I realized how I feel about you--you’re the most beautiful girl i know and i’d never want to hurt you over some stupid shit like that. And I want you to forgive me”.

you purse your lips. you couldn’t believe he was even saying something like this.

“soobin I don’t know. that was a really bad thing for you to do”.

“I know and I feel horrible about it. but i can’t last a day knowing that you’re angry with me. you said you didn’t want to talk to me anymore and i couldn’t stomach it. please just what do you want? I’ll buy you ice cream i’ll buy you chocolate--i’ll get on my knees in front of the whole school and beg for you to talk to me again just please forgive me”.

your heart ached at how cute soobin was. and yes, he was exactly like a puppy who lost their best friend. it had only been eight hours and he was a wreck without you. you sigh.

“fine soobin. i’ll forgive you. but i don’t want to hear you doing anything like this again. do you understand?”.

soobin smiles and runs to pick you up as if you were a child. he planted non stop kisses on your cheek and you wanted to stay serious but he was so cute you had to laugh.

“soobin!”.

you shout and he still kissing both of your cheeks simultaneously.

“soobin! I said do you understand me?”.

he looks at you with that dumb grin again. you wanted to smack him.

“yes i understand”.

“alright then let me go soobin. it’s been a long week and i’m tired”.

you command trying your best to undo his grip. he lets you go and you turn back to into your house until soobin grabs your hand.

“stay with me tonight”.

“soobin you know I can’t do that”.

“come on just tell your parents you left early in the morning because someone invited you to a mass or something. it works trust me i’ve done it before”.

“soobin--”.

“please?”. he asks again, he didn’t want be in his house alone. you blow your breath again.

“well at least let me get some clothes”. soobin smiles and nods giving you the okay, telling you he’d be waiting for you in his car. you couldn’t believe you were doing something like this. you knew teenagers did crazy things at your age but you never thought you’d be apart of that bunch.

you were sitting on soobin’s bed and he was glad that the maid was kind of enough to clean his room while he was asleep. he would die if you saw how truly angry he was when you were mad at him. soobin takes his sneakers off and turns his tv on. he lazily stepped up the platform and made himself comfortable underneath his blankets. he felt much calmer now that you were here. you sit your bag down and tiredly kick your slippers off at the door. soobin watches you, you were moving too slow for his comfort. you slip off your robe and hang on the hook behind his door. soobin immediately sits up when he sees your attire.

you were wearing your normal pj’s, shorts and a tank top, but soobin had never saw you showing so much skin. your body was so gorgeous to him. of course, you think nothing of it you step on the platform and slide into the space next to him. you pull the pillow closer to your face and lay on it wearily.

“so you don’t want to look at me?”.

you turn your body so you were now facing him and you pluck him on the nose.

“shut up. i want to sleep”. you mumble. he pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you. you felt swaddled and warm. it helped you sleep better too but you weren’t going to admit that to soobin. He kisses you on your forehead before he falls asleep himself.

but waking up for him was weird. he could’ve slept longer especially since it was raining but he also felt something warm and wet underneath him. he thought maybe it was a dream. but as he moved around it felt too real. he got out of bed and lifted the blankets.

to his horror there was a huge blood stain between you and where he was laying. he wasn’t mad at all actually, he was just quite shocked that girls could bleed that much. you were pretty much knocked out cold so soobin figured he should let you rest since it’s been a tough week for you. he grabs a hoodie and glides his feet into his nike slides before getting to his car.

there was a little convenience store down the street and he hoped they had what he needed. upon entry he approaches the cashier with an awkward wave. The old woman smiles and nods. “How many I assist you today?”. she asked kindly. soobin takes a deep breath before he says it.

“do you guys have those things that girls bleed inside of?”.

the woman looks at him with a confused expression, “Do you mean pads? tampons?”.

“yeah those”.

“the feminine hygiene products are in the aisle behind you”. soobin turns and gives her a swift thank you before strolling down the aisle. And god, was he shocked at these things. First he wondered why there was so many different kinds of everything. He picks up a box of ultra flow tampons. he glares at the picture of them on the box.

“why the fuck do these things have a shell?”. he uttered. he tucks it his arm though just in case. he strolled down a little further and saw the pads which, for whatever reason to him anyway, had thousands of versions as well. His mind was spinning, how would he know whether to get you the big ones or small ones? he didn’t know what size pussy you wore.

“how am i supposed to know the size something i’ve never fucking seen?”. he grumbles and just snatches the purple packaged ones because of the color. soobin hadn’t had any sisters himself so he didn’t know too much. but he definitely heard his dad complaining about the way his mother used to act when she was on her period.

he figured maybe he should get you sweets. you were pretty calm when he fed you ice cream the other day. he snatches up some ice cream pints and candy on his way back to the register.

it was a hassle taking the sheets off the bed while you were on them. by far the hardest task he ever did in his life but he refused to put you on the floor. he successfully did it though and rolled the sheets into a ball before tossing them into the hallway. He was surprised you were still sleeping the way you were.

he goes into his bathroom and runs some bathwater. he remembered that his mother kept scented body wash and lotions in the bathroom she shared with his dad so he took some of those and sat them on his bathroom sink. finally, he wakes you up. he didn’t want to but it was best that you got cleaned. he gave you a few soft shakes and you flutter your eyes open, forgetting that you were even at his house.

“hey you had an accident so i left some clean towels and body wash in the bathroom for you”.

“accident?”. you question sitting up. you raised the blankets but there was no sheet beneath you. “what do you mean accident?”. you ask again, not feeling the blood leaking down your shorts until now. you cover your face in complete embarrassment.

“oh my god this is so humiliating! my cycle must have changed”.

“don’t be humiliated. shit happens. get cleaned up so you can come downstairs with me. you can put your soiled clothes in the pile with my bedsheets and the maid will take care of it”.

he tosses a couple of items on the bed beside you.

“I also bought you whatever these things are. I don’t know which one you need but you can keep the both of them. there were far too many to choose from anyways”.

you plucked up the items wondering how in the hell you were lucky enough to get a guy--soobin at that--to get hygiene products he didn’t even know the name of. he walked out of the door giving you privacy before you could even thank him.

you sigh and make your way to the bathroom. you looked in the mirror to see a huge blood stain in the back of your shorts. you wondered why everything that could possibly go wrong for you in life, went public. On the bright side though, it was a rainy day and you needed this hot shower more than anything else in the world.

you were happily walking down the stairs in the outfit you packed for yourself. soobin was standing in the living room in front of the wide screen tv with a remote and a card in his hand. you sit down on the curved sofa behind him.

“what are you doing?”.

“I’m trying to pay for netflix. I swear if they ask me for my email address one more time I’m going to throw this fucking tv out the window”. he raged. you laughed because you knew he was serious.

“you don’t have a netflix account already?”.

“no. i don’t usually watch tv like that”.

you take one of the fuzzy blankets next to you and cuddle with it.

“so why are you paying for it now? that’s a waste of money”.

“because you’re here now and we can watch movies together”. he says reading the ‘Payment successful’ notice scrawled across the tv. he was prompted to make a profile which he did fairly quickly. “do you want me to create your profile too?”. his eyes were still glued on the screen.

“no soobin”. you mutter into the blankets. you probably weren’t going to use it anyway. you stared at him in the meantime. he was so sweet, cute, and well dressed. The necklaces he wore always made him cuter. Just a while ago you hated soobin’s guts and now here you were. you knew your parents would never permit this relationship but you couldn’t help but to get attached. he was the first guy you’ve had in your life.

“i figured periods probably hurt so i got some snacks for you”.

you pouted in awe when he handed you the bag of ice cream and candy. it was the sweetest thing he could’ve done.

“thank you soobin”.

he sits on the couch and puts his feet sideways, snatching you back so that you were sitting in between his legs. he cuddled you gratefully. he didn’t deserve you and he knew it.

#choi soobin #choi beomgyu #choi yeonjun #txt #txt au #kpop #kpop au

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Note

Hi, apparently, I like torturing myself, because I really wanna see the scene were Tony finds out Jack is his dad, not Snyder. Thanks in advance for wrecking me 😄

Inspired by ideas from the wonderful brain of @bitchiaintanonymous

Everything I Ever Wanted Masterlist

TW: Mentions of Abuse

“Jackie?”

It was late. Race knew he wasn’t supposed to be up now. It was strictly against the rules, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Jack’s room was dark, just as it always was. Race had asked once why Jack lived down here, rather than the extra room his father had set up to be a study for him. He didn’t really understand. His Papà always said it wasn’t for him to understand. When he was little, he didn’t question it. He’d poke at the bruises on Jack’s arms when the man held him and ask where they came from. Jack was always really good at changing the subject.

The young man wasn’t here. Based on the yelling Race had heard earlier that night, he guessed that Jack was in the closet again.

He’d tried to ask his friend why he didn’t just leave, get another job where he was treated better. While Tyler knew his papà would never dare harm him, he knew that the old man didn’t necessarily play well with others. He knew his papà loved him, but Jack was an entirely different and odd story. Jack never had a good answer as to why he stayed. He always just said something to make Tyler laugh.

Jack was the closest thing to a friend that Race had. He hated watching his father smack the other man around, kick him, lock him in closets. It was like Jack was more a slave than a caretaker. He didn’t understand it.

Tonight though, his papà had seen fit to take Jack’s paints away from him. So naturally, Race had stolen them back for him.

But Jack wasn’t down here.

With a small sigh, Race walked over to Jack’s nightstand and set down the paints carefully. Glancing around at the walls, Race found small drawings and outlines penciled in. He ran a hand over them. Jack’s drawings always made him smile.

A slam from upstairs made him jump. He gasped, looking to the door that was closed up the stairs. He figured it was probably time to sneak back into his own room now, so he walked back around the bed only to catch his foot on something sticking out from beneath it.

When he landed chest first on the floor, he groaned. If he were more awake, it might’ve been easier to catch himself, but in the darkness so late into the night, he couldn’t find his balance. It didn’t matter. He rolled over, pushing himself up so that he could find whatever it was that he tripped on to make sure he hadn’t done any damage.

What he found was an unmarked, plain brown box.

Jack always told him that one day his curiosity would get him into trouble. He figured, why not today?

Glancing back up at the door, the boy reached down for the thing, finding that it was light and easy to carry. From the marks on the sides of the box, the kid could tell it was regularly opened and that just made him all the more eager to see what was inside.

He gently sat himself down on the edge of Jack’s bed, setting the box on his lap and pulling the lid off of it, dropping it onto the plain mattress beside him.

The second he caught sight of the contents, his need for more information only swelled in his mind.

On top lay a neatly folded, baby blue blanket about the size of the fourteen year old’s chest. He smiled at the soft thing, letting his fingers run across the fabric as he jumped to the simplest solution; this must be stuff from Jack’s childhood.

That was when the guilt really set in. He should not be going through Jack’s stuff. His butler already had enough problems without an annoying teenager rummaging through his personal belongings, so Race went to fold the thing back up and put it back when he made the mistake of glancing back down at the box. His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw the little picture that was staring back at him.

The thing was dark and pixelated, definitely older by the looks of the crinkled edges. It only took a moment for Race to realize it was a picture from an ultrasound. It was a picture of an unborn child.

On the back were words written in silver ink. 18 weeks.

Race bit his lip. Though he knew he should stop, something inside him told him that he couldn’t. Still, his mind reeled at what he was discovering.

Jack was a father.

Or he had been.

Maybe he’d lost the baby.

Race didn’t know. He should’ve waited. He should’ve asked Jack about it all, but he didn’t. He set aside the blanket and the picture and kept going, finding tiny, knit baby booties and a piece of paper with ink stamped footprints of a newborn child. There were sketches of a baby and familiar eyes and things a father wished he could do with his son everyday; hold his hand, hold him tight, keep him safe.

His heart throbbed. He knew Jack would never leave a child, especially his own. The only thing the boy could think was that this baby hadn’t made it.

Just as he might’ve actually put everything away, he looked down to find one more picture still sitting at the bottom of the box, torn at the upper right hand corner but still clear enough for Race to see the photograph.

There was Jack, sitting against the wall of a hospital room, a tiny baby in his arms. The thing looked so small, hardly big enough to be born on time. Jack looked so young. If Race had to guess, he’d say the man looked hardly older than himself, sixteen at the most. There was a clear bruise on his left cheek but it didn’t look like he cared. He was gazing down at the child against his chest like it was the most precious thing in the entire universe. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t laughing. He was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked down at the kid, their foreheads touching together as the baby slept. He held the baby so tenderly that Race wondered what it felt like, how safe that kid must’ve felt in that moment.

It wasn’t until Race turned the photo over in his hand that the entire world came to a screeching halt around him. The air rushed from his lungs and the box slid easily off of his lap down onto the floor, only one last piece of paper falling onto the floor.

December 11, 2002

Tyler James Kelly

My little angel, born two months too early and still not here soon enough.

Race grasped at his hair, trying to wake himself up. This was a dream, that’s all it was. He must’ve been sleeping.

But all of it felt too real.

“Oh my God…” the boy breathed, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth at the sight of the picture that he just couldn’t take his eyes off of.

He heard shouting coming from up the stairs. The boy flinched again, viciously reaching out for the box to try and gather everything back up and set them back where they belonged only to catch sight of another piece of paper falling to the ground. He reached for it, not wanting to know what it was but looking at it anyways, unable to stop himself at all.

It was a birth certificate.

Tyler James Kelly

Born December 11, 2002

James Francis Kelly

And

Amelia Rae Higgins

Tyler couldn’t breathe. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as his hands shook, unable to process the information fully in that moment.

It was like for a single moment the world made sense and now his brain was erupting into complete chaos.

But he couldn’t be frozen right now. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. He had to move. He had to get a grip.

He gasped, rubbing pathetically at his tears while trying to gently shove everything back right where he’d found it. By some miracle he was able to fumble with the lid to close the thing before shoving it back under the bed right as the door opened.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Kelly!”

“Kiss my ass, old man…” Jack muttered to himself rubbing at the back of his neck as he descended down into his bedroom. It wasn’t until he looked up that he found a very stunned, very upset looking teenager standing awkwardly beside his bed. “Racer, it’s almost one AM… what’re ya doin’ down here?”

Race let out a breath. Jack hadn’t noticed anything out of place. At least, not yet.

He managed a shrug and nodded shyly over to the tiny kit he’d left on the table in the corner. “I… I brought you your paints back…” he muttered, suddenly unsure how to talk to this man. He tried to remind himself that this was still Jack, it was still the man who he’d looked up to his whole life, but it just didn’t make any sense.

This man was his father.

“You shouldn’t be doin’ that, kid—“

“He shouldn’t a’ taken it… it’s yours.” There was something sharp in his tone. He hadn’t meant for it to be there. Looking up, he found Jack’s head cocking a bit as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His lip was split and his eye was swollen but he didn’t even seem to notice. “J—“ the boy cut himself off with a shake of his head, more confused than he’d ever been in his life. “Why do you let him treat you like that?”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair and walking over to his bed, flopping down onto as he glared up at the ceiling. “Why do you keep askin’ me that?”

“Because you never answer me!” Race argued, unable to keep the hurt out of his tone. “Why don’t you tell him ta back off n’ get outta this place?”

Rubbing at his good eye, Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Because I can’t, kid… it ain’t in the cards for me—“

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not!” Jack sat back up on his bed, seeing for the first time the tears on the boy’s cheeks. “Tyler, what’s wrong?”

Race glanced back down to the box beneath Jack’s bed. He quickly averted his gaze and shook his head. “Nothin’... just… nothin’...” he tried to convince not only the young man, but himself as well. “I just… goodnight.” He tried to rush from the room.

But Jack had always somehow been able to anticipate his next move. He was always quicker than him.

Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Wait just a minute, pal! J’st…” the man sighed again, finally just pulling Race into his chest.

The safest place in the world to Race.

Even with this new information, that hadn’t changed. In fact, it might be even more so than before.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still angry.

“What happened ta you huggin’ me goodnight, huh?” Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood. It only made Race want to cry harder. He tried to take deep breaths to keep the sobs away.

The boy forced himself to wrap his arms around this man, his father, holding onto him tighter than he was sure he ever had before. Jack didn’t seem to mind. “Sorry…” the kid muttered into the man's shoulder.

A hand came down to pet his hair. Jack’s pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before pulling away. Suddenly, everything Jack did had an entirely new meaning. “Goodnight, Tyler James,” he smiled.

Normally, Race’s response would’ve been a quiet “Goodnight, Jackie,” but something just felt wrong about that now. So all he managed to squeak out was a small, “‘Night,” before he made his way towards the stairs, leaving the tired man standing confused in the middle of the basement.

Race’s legs weren’t moving fast enough as he ran up the stairs into his own bedroom. He managed to calm himself down for a millisecond to keep the door from slamming behind him before he slid down against it, trying to remember how to breathe. He curled up tight against himself. Stifling his sobs with his fist as he tried to figure out what the hell he’d just seen.

The last fourteen years of his life had been nothing but a lie.

There had to be some kind of big picture here, something he wasn’t seeing, something that would make everything make sense again but nothing did.

All he could see were those pictures, those drawings, that name.

Tyler James Kelly.

That was him. That was his name.

Tyler James Kelly.

Confusion didn’t even begin to describe what the child was feeling.

The boy bit down on his lip until it was bleeding. He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my God…”

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bioodorange · 4 years

Text

|| CreepyPastas In Love ||

I can guarantee these are NOT what you think!! Also TRIGGER WARNING!! Sexual and Violent themes ahead

Let me know if I should make any of these into stories! Or make another part for other characters!

Jeff The Killer

Jeff can barely manage himself and his mental state, let alone someone else.

His mindset is stuck somewhere in between "fourteen year old boy" and "psychotic time bomb"

Whoever he fell for is one unlucky son of a bitch

They're most likely a police officer or another non human being

Someone involved in his killings but not completely in harm's way

Perhaps their working the case of his latest murder or maybe someone he ran into

Whatever it is he's infatuated

Jeff would most likely be interested in someone confident, smart and stable

Those struggling financially or emotionally are off the table

It'd probably start off with watching, this man isn't known for his patience but people can change when they're curious

He'd probably get a feel for what you were like, how you treated others

Those who are brash or shove people around will be disregarded, who likes a bully?

But he wouldn't like someone soft spoken and bashful either

Someone courageous, with just enough passion to keep his interest

Watching would become stalking, following you to work and maybe even walking around your house. He just wants to learn

He gets comfortable, maybe it's one to many missing things from your fridge or the smell of blood on your couch

You know something is wrong

Being more cautious, you step lighter in the halls, close your blinds when you change

But it's okay

He can see you from the closet

This would continue on his infatuation and attachment growing

He doesn't understand the feelings, he just knows you belong to him

Things start to go missing, clothes from the laundry or books from your shelves

Maybe the cat you fed each morning turns up on dead on your porch

People from work stop showing up

Your friends don't wanna speak to you anymore

Until one day their gone

You lost your job- the company shut down

People were to scared to work there

And then the police show up at your door

It can't be a coincidence that you're the only one left, the only link connecting the mutilated bodies and missing posters that decorate the streets

Whoever is doing this is dangerous

And he's ready to take you

It wasn't the breaking glass or the pressure on your sides that woke you up

It was the warm breath on your face

Opening your eyes a pale man with ratty, dark hair is staring down at you

The smile carved into his face isn't half as creepy as his real grin

He can finally have you

He read your favorite books and talked to all of your friends

He knew your sizes, passwords and all of your favorite things

And now you were going to leave him

Everyone he'd known had left him

His parents, his brother his friends

You weren't going to leave him to

In an instant, he acted

A sharp pained flooded your chest and you could feel your skin scream

Raspy words and choked breathe filled the room

Blood poured from your mouth and your body twitched with the last bit of energy it had left

You were finally his

The dark haired man pulled the blade from his lovers chest and dropped it onto the bedroom floor

Wrapping his arms around the lifeless corpse he was finally happy

Sheets turned from red to white as your body lost color

The man slept there, body secure in his arms all night

The morning after he rolled out of bed, and crept out the window

There was no one to find your body, no one to take you away to

You were his

He'd made sure of it

Ticci Toby

Teenagers are some of the most difficult people out there

Hormones, rebellion and shit decisions all rolled into

Sprinkle some trauma in there and you've got one unlucky child

One of these unlucky people would be Toby Rogers

Toby is naive and lacks a lot in basic memories of human interaction and grew up with little social interaction

Not to mention he's quite young for a proxy and was never put through harsh training

Though his skills are sharp, his self control is not

Despite being a serial killer Toby is still a touch starved teenage boy

So, it's not uncommon that he follows a pretty girl home or maybe lingers a bit to watch someone change

This mans an emotional wreck and all that's channeled into his physical behavior

So, when someone special really sticks out to him, they're in for a ride

This poor soul is most likely someone he spotted during a solo mission, perhaps a friend of whoever he had to kill that night

So, just like every other time he'd find your home the next day

Something about the view from your back yard was just so, infatuating to him

Maybe it was because you're puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks gave him a sense of power,

Or that your clothes were a bit to small and at just the right angle to get him thinking

Whatever it was, it filled his head with unsavory ideas

Let's just say the term "mate like rabbits" heavily applies to the next few nights for Toby

Now this man is not patient nor is he sure how to handle it

So how does he do it? Head on!

This man doesn't care about your interests or your family he just knows your perfect

Even though you lost a dear friend you still take care of others and keep your life together

There's a natural softness about you that makes anger just melt away

His favourite times are when you sit in bed half naked laughing as you talk on the phone

Your face is so expressive..

And you're so open with your emotions

It's perfect

One afternoon he comes over, barely thinking before smashing a window and going inside

Well, he should have checked the drive way

There's no one home

A bit disappointed the man uses this chance to walk around, check things out

He soon realizes he won't be able to take you with him and forms a plan

It's early evening when you come home, the day was great and just what you needed

Until you see the shattered window

Thankfully you don't scream, Toby's fast enough to clasp a gloved hand over your mouth and drag you upstairs

The man is slim but he easily lifts you off the ground and your hits don't seem to be doing a thing to him

Tirelessly trying to escape, you don't notice you're in your own room until you feel the familiar material of your blanket

Everything seems unreal as you look around the room, trying to avoid the twitching man on top of you

Your room is clean yet it's obvious things are disheveled, he didn't have much care for your stuff

He just wanted you

Toby doesn't say much he just behind moving, grinding his hips against yours roughly a choked moan comes from your lips

Tears prick your eyes and sobs escape your mouth

Pleas of help fall on deaf ears as clothing is pulled away, piece by piece

Any sense of pleasure is forgotten about, drowned out by your feeling of utter repultian

After it all the man ties you up, half naked and screaming the best you can with a sore throat

If you can't come with him you'll wait for him

You do belong together after all

146 notes · View notes

lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Janus Anker: identity

To be a teenager is to learn more about yourself. But does it have to be all at once?

Please leave a comment on this one? I usually don't ask but I would really like feedback on this one.

Masterpost

Summer before freshmen year, Janus was a wreck.

He always kind of hated the way he looked. But lately there were days where he didn’t even like to look at the normal half of his body. When nothing in his closet felt comfortable. The first day of summer, he went over to the neighbor’s house to hang out with Virgil. He was having a bad day and needed his friend. “Janus. Good to see you my boy,” Virgil’s dad greeted as he opened the door. Janus forced a smile. “Hi uncle Lo. Is Virgil up yet?” he asked. “He’s in his room. You know the way,” uncle Logan told him kindly. Janus nodded and rushed up the stairs. He opened the door to Virgil’s bedroom and froze. Virgil was standing in front of his mirror a pen in his hand and his hoodie and t-shirt on the bed. He looked up and smiled at him. Why was his hair purple? And since when did he do his eyeshadow so immaculate? Did he paint his nails purple too? Was that lipstick? And why was there an intricate pattern running up his arm, over his shoulder and fading out at his chest? “What do you think? Looks pretty sick right?” he asked as he showed off his work. Janus wasn’t sure which part of Virgil’s drastically changed appearance he meant. But it looked very… very… God he could not be having a gay panic right now. Not with Virgil. He’d never had a crush before! He never cared for any of the girls in class. Not in the way Virgil sometimes expressed interest in them. Like Anna from their class. Virgil had had a small crush on her at the start of last year. Out of curiosity Janus had asked what it was like. To see if maybe he was crushing on someone without realizing it. Sadly Virgil’s explanation hadn’t brought an epiphany. Which made this even more confusing. If he was simply gay and crushing on Virgil this whole time, then he should have realized it then right? He’d known him all his life! He didn’t feel like this last week though. He forced himself to drop that train of thought. He wasn’t here for any of this. “Yeah. Looks good. Though I doubt uncle Lo will let you actually get a tattoo. Ever,” he said, trying to play it cool. Virgil chuckled and nodded as he tossed the pen on his desk and put on his shirt and hoodie. The latter was new. Black with purple patches. It looked hand made. In a good way. Janus couldn’t focus on it though. He was still reeling from the unexpected rush of feelings that had just been dumped on him.

Maybe it was just because Virgil had looked so different? Some sort of shock? That must be it. Right? Anyway it was mostly over now and he was back to feeling wrong in his own skin. “I know, but I wanted to try it out anyway. I’ll wash it off later. After I take a picture.” Virgil then studied Janus’ face. “One of those days?” he guessed. Janus nodded. He’d never been able to express to Virgil how it felt exactly. But his friend managed to make him feel better anyway. He’d help him relax by messing around with his hair or helping him pick something nice to wear. Or some general self-care stuff. “I’ve got just the thing. Sit down I’ll be right back.” Janus proceeded to throw himself face first on Virgil’s bed, doing his best not to think back to the fake tattoo he had drawn. Or not the part where it made him feel things anyway. Virgil was good at art. Good enough to make others envious, or make people try and get something from him. Janus felt his stomach twist in knots at the mere thought of it. Virgil was too kind to deny anyone if they’d ask. It would be very hard to keep him safe in high school though, when they weren’t guaranteed to be together for every class. Janus had been thinking a lot about ways he could protect them from bullies and fake friends. The best he could come up with was seem scarier and stick together. The coward was going to scare off the bullies. Janus was very aware of how ridiculous that sounded. He was going to try though. And then there was still the matter of Roman Castile. That pompous brat never stopped trying to get Virgil to trust him and steal him away. Janus still couldn’t figure out why he went through so much effort. Was it because he didn’t get told ‘no’ often? Was Virgil a challenge? Roman couldn’t possibly really know or appreciate the kind of person Virgil was. So what was the plan? “Get up. I can’t work my magic if you hide away like that,” Virgil instructed as he entered the room once again dropping something on the bed. Janus sighed and sat up. “Give me your hand. We’re doing make overs,” Virgil instructed as he got on the bed with him. Janus was about to protest, but Virgil had that look. There was no arguing. “Fine,” he sighed. Virgil took his hand and started doing his nails with a golden polish. “I bought this one for detailing,” he explained. Janus looked at Virgil’s hand and saw there were little stars in the purple polish. He couldn’t help a smile. It looked pretty. Virgil had started using make up the last few months. Just some dark smudges under his eyes and black polish on his nails to look extra edgy. Maybe the new look held the same intention? A high school upgrade? With a little detail to hint at a softer nature for those who looked close. “You’re in the mood for makeovers today,” he observed. Virgil chuckled. “I suppose,” he nodded as he blew over Janus’ nails, finishing of his right hand. “Next,” he instructed. Janus gave him his left hand, holding his right up so nothing could mess up the still wet paint. “What’s with all the shades of purple anyway?” he asked. “Just felt right,” Virgil muttered casually as he finished off Janus’ other hand. “There,” he stated satisfied as he let go. Janus shook both hands for a bit trying to get them dry. “We’ll find the look that feels right for you too. Just you wait,” Virgil assured him as he dug through the bag Janus had heard him put down earlier. “What are you planning?” he asked. “Relax, I’m not going to make you go home with a face full of make-up. We’re just trying something different okay?” Virgil assured him. Janus let out a sigh and nodded. He trusted him. “I wouldn’t go for a dark lipstick for you. It looks cool but it’s… Not something even I would want for an everyday look. And the goal is making you feel good not shock you,” he joked. Janus’ eyes fell to Virgil’s lips as he mentioned lipstick. The dark color made every movement stand out even more. They looked very kissable. And that brought Janus mind to a screeching halt. The image of kissing his best friend made him feel all sorts of ways. But not quite the way Virgil once described. He felt nervous and excited, and flustered. But not… Not love. He didn’t think of sweet nothings and dates and holding hands. Or he did, because part of him wanted to run those down to figure out if this was a crush. But none of that fit how he felt about Virgil. The thought of it was just weird to him. Virgil was movie nights and stupid jokes and teasing. But also kissing. Apparently. Suddenly he was yanked out of his thoughts by Virgil carefully taking hold of his face. For a second he thought Virgil’s mind had gone to the same place his had. But when his eyes shot up to V’s they were just amused. “Relax. And stop biting your lip. I haven’t even done anything and you’re already trying to ruin my masterpiece.” “Sorry,” Janus muttered. Relieved that Virgil had no clue what just happened. What was wrong with him? “It’s fine,” Virgil assured him as he started applying whatever color he’d decided on to Janus’ lips. It did not help with his crisis. And it was just a stellar crisis to have when the object of your attraction was literally holding your face and had his lips a breath away from yours. “There. Now, I’m going to need you to trust me for a sec here,” Virgil warned ominously. Clearly having fun. Janus couldn’t help a chuckle. Now that Virgil wasn’t so close anymore the attraction subsided to a not all consuming level and he could kind of enjoy the fact that Virgil was trying to make him feel like a movie star or whatever he was going for here. “Do I have a choice in the matter?” he asked dryly. Virgil chuckled. Janus thought back to how Virgil had said that Anna’s laugh made his heart skip, back when he liked her. But while the sound made Janus feel comfortable and happy, his heart did nothing special. He was just happy and relaxed because the sound was familiar and safe. “You have a point,” Virgil agreed. “Close your eyes for me.” Janus did as he was told. Virgil’s hand was on his face once more and he could feel his breath drift over him. The fact that he couldn’t see a thing as a brush drifted over his eyelids only intensified the new feelings. “Did you know the principle of our high school is childhood friends with uncle Thomas?” ‘Uncle’ Thomas was an old school friend of Uncle Logan. Janus had met him a few times over the years. He was a nice guy. If a bit high energy. “Really?” he asked a little surprised. “Yeah. Joan Stokes. They use they/them pronouns. According to uncle Thomas.” Janus couldn’t help the confused frown. “What do you mean?” he asked. “They’re non binary. They don’t identify as a man or a woman. Like they were born in a male body, but their gender is not male or female.” “People can do that?” Janus asked. “Just decide they aren’t what they are?” “That’s not it. Uncle Thomas says that Mx. Stokes… Mx. Is the neutral version of Mr. or Mrs. by the way… Anyway he said that they are their authentic selves. They were always non binary. They just didn’t know it until they were in their teens or something. I looked it up. There are people who are born in a male body but discover they are female later in life. Like. It’s proven that their brains even work more like that of a female. And the other way around can happen too. So why wouldn’t there be people who are in between?” Janus tried to wrap his head around it. Being a man but not being a man… or a woman. “So is… are they…? Did I say that right?” It felt kind of weird. He’d never heard of this until now. “That was exactly right.” Janus could swear he heard some pride in Virgil’s voice. “Okay, so are they both or neither?” he asked. Virgil’s hand stilled. “You know… I didn’t ask. Hm… I suppose… Maybe it depends on your perspective?” he mused as he continued working. “Look up for a bit please,” Virgil muttered. Janus opened his eyes and felt Virgil start applying some eye liner. “I don’t have mascara, so I’m almost done,” he told him. Janus felt relieved. He was enjoying this, truly. And he was curious to find out how he looked. But he also needed some distance between himself and Virgil. And maybe some time to try to look up what all of these feelings were about. Because he wanted to know what this thing was that threatened his friendship with Virgil. Was this a crush? If it was, then why didn’t he feel any of the stuff he was supposed to feel. Except for a very dumb and dangerous wish to kiss his best friend. “And done! Turn around I’m going to fix your hair a bit.” Janus sighed and turned to face the window. He’d let his hair grow the past few years. It came past his shoulders now and he liked the way it looked. He usually wore it up to the side. But Virgil liked to play around with it sometimes. And Janus secretly liked it when he did. “Okay so I’m not going too wild here. I’m keeping it simple,” Virgil assured him as he started brushing Janus’ hair. Janus hummed in acknowledgement, already lost in the feeling of the brush. This was relaxing. And over much too soon. “Done!” Virgil announced as he hopped off the bed. Suddenly Janus was dragged in front of the mirror. “Well, you look hot, if I do say so myself.” Janus was so shocked that he barely registered the complement. He looked… The person in the mirror was… That was him… If he forgot about his clothes for a minute and just looked at his face. The feeling of wrongness was gone. In it’s place was a strange sort of euphoria. “Is this a good speechless or a bad speechless?” Virgil wondered. Janus was pulled away from marveling at how Virgil had managed to go for a natural look in spite of his birthmarks making it harder to pick a color that looked good on both sides. He wanted to hug him. Thank him for making him look beautiful. He'd never appreciated the shape of his eyes until Virgil made them stand out. His lips looked elegant and full. And now it was down, Jan's hair framed his face so nicely. Virgil was amazing. But when he looked at him, the euphoria subsided. Slowly replaced by dread. He looked like a girl. He realized. If he switched out his clothes a little, he could easily be mistaken for a girl… and he liked looking like this. This was too much. Did Virgil know that this would happen? Was that the point of bringing up pronouns? Was this a test? He couldn’t let him know. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know what there was to know. He needed time. “You are getting way to good at this. I almost didn't realize it was me,” he said while he was trying to find an excuse to get the make-up of and go home. Virgil smiled. “I'll take that as a complement. It looks good on you. Thanks for letting me try it out,” he offered as he went back to his bag. “I’ve got some sponges to clean up. Dad wouldn't care, but I get it if you don't feel like explaining that we're just messing around.” Janus relaxed a little at that. Virgil didn’t know. Good. He accepted the sponge and with a heavy heart went to the bathroom to clean up. He left his hair down though, finding a little comfort in that. He also left his nails as they were. When he got back Virgil was sitting cross legged on the bed sketching. He looked up and smiled. Janus smiled back and let himself drop in his usual spot. He probably should go. But if he hurried home now, it would be even more suspicious. And as long as they didn’t get too close again, he could ignore at least half of his crisis. “Hey, I’m probably not going to use the lipstick or most of the eyeshadow anymore. You think your mom can use it?” Virgil wondered absentmindedly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Janus shrugged. “I'll ask her. You sure? Isn't make-up very expensive?” “It’s all either sale or stuff Uncle Thomas gave to me. One of his friends is a make-up artist who gets stuff like that all the time for free. and I wanted to experiment,” Virgil explained casually. “But like I said I’m not a lipstick kind of emo and other than black, purple and maybe blue I don't think I’ll use any of the eyeshadow.” Janus nodded. “Sure.” He didn’t mention that he might make his own selection first. To test out if it was just novelty that made him feel good, or if he was really… a she. Virgil put the sketchbook aside and got out of bed digging through the bag. He put a bunch of stuff on his desk before coming back and handing the bag over. “I’ll need the bag back though. Have her select what she likes and do with the rest whatever you want.” Janus nodded as he accepted the bag. They listened to music for a while, Virgil sketching absentmindedly. “Is being with a man who’s actually a woman gay?” Janus wondered out loud all of a sudden. Virgil looked up. “Does it matter?” he asked. “I mean… A little?” Janus didn’t know how to explain where the question came from. He knew. But he couldn’t say without giving himself away… herself? No. He was not ready to try out the pronoun. Not even in his mind. “Well… I don’t know… Do you mean someone who’s born male but identifies as female?” Janus nodded. “And we’re talking about us as guys right?” Janus nodded again. “Then. If they identify as female, it’s not gay I suppose. They’re a woman. At least that’s what I got from what I looked up. I didn’t do a whole indebt study.” Janus hummed absentmindedly. “I don’t know if I could make out with someone who’s like that,” he admitted. He didn’t mean to sound insensitive. He might be ‘someone like that’ himself. It just felt all so complicated and confusing right now. He didn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t know for sure until he was put in that position. He thought back to the past few years and his failed attempts at trying to feel interested in girls the way Virgil was. He thought he was just picky. That he needed to be really into someone to even consider putting his mouth on theirs. And the argument could be made that this was true for Virgil too. But he only liked him as a friend. Not as someone he wanted to start a family with. Though he could imagine them jokingly making a pact to settle with each other if they were still single when they turned 30 or something like that. Could people just want to kiss someone without being in love? They did that right? One night stands and all that stuff happened all the time. If they could not be a guy or a girl, or be the opposite of what they were born as. Or seemed to be born as at first glance. His head was spinning. He had too much to think about. “Well, I don’t think I’d care. If I like them, and they’re cute. Then I’d be down I think…” Once again Janus hummed vaguely. It was a bit of a relief. One less thing to worry about for him. They sat in silence after that, listening to music. Virgil sketching, Janus trying to compile a plan. When Virgil was called in for lunch Janus left for his house. He had made a decision. He had lunch with his dad, his mom was at work and his dad had to go present a project. Which meant that by some miracle, Janus would have the house to himself. A rare occurrence. Normally he’d invite Virgil over. But this time, he needed some time for himself. He took the make-up bag up and then dug through his mother’s closet. He took out a skirt and a shirt that sat loose so he wouldn’t ruin them. He wasn’t going to take risks with her shoes. He’d have to make due. Once in his room he searched the bag for the right colors. They’d been shades of yellow and brown, he recalled. He saw that Virgil had kept the eyeliner, which made sense. Virgil wore it almost daily. It was fine. This was just an experiment anyway. He wasn’t as good as Virgil. He figured out that he had used slightly different shades, or blended or something on either eye to make up for the different skin tones. He didn’t get it exactly right but close enough. He’d borrowed his mother’s mascara and prayed he was putting it on right. He put on a shade of lipstick that looked close enough to the one Virgil used, wishing he’d paid more attention to what he said rather than panic about how much he wanted to kiss him in that moment. In any case he was done with his make-up. It wasn’t until he was about to put on his mother’s shirt that he realized he probably should have started with the clothes and ended with the hair and make-up. Live and learn. Very carefully, he put on the shirt and then the skirt. He closed his eyes as he stepped in front of the full length mirror glued to his closet door. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s just… try,” he whispered to himself. He opened his eyes… She looked great. Virgil had done a better job, but still. The outfit was… It helped. Janus felt a giddy laugh escape. She played with her hair and held out her hand as if she was greeting someone. “Hi,” she said, making her voice higher. “I’m… Janice. Nice to meet you.” Janice. Familiar but more fitting. Her heart was racing, her stomach in knots. Now this was closer to what Virgil described as falling in love. She was just so happy to meet herself. The pronoun felt much less scary in the privacy of her own room. She was going to have to do more research. Why was she only starting to feel this way now? What was that thing with Virgil earlier? Why did she only feel bad about her body on some days and others she was completely fine with being Janus. Was that normal? But for this moment she let herself be happy. Everything else could wait just a bit longer. The rest of summer, Janus did every chore they could. Their parents and uncle Lo had implemented a system that allowed Virgil and Janus to raise their allowance if they did chores. It was meant to teach them that a good work ethic got rewarded or something along those lines, Janus was sure. But all they cared about was that they’d be able to buy themself some make up and an outfit to wear when they needed it. They were still a mess. The good news was, they now knew why. They were gay. That much was clear. Or well they were exclusively into men. But after talking in some online chat groups, they’d figured out that they weren’t a trans woman, as they’d initially thought. They were, in fact, gender fluid. Some days, he was just Janus. Other days she was more comfortable as Janice. They were okay with they/them on any given day. That is, they’d figured that out in their head. But they weren’t out to anyone yet. They were terrified of telling any adult in their life. Even if they were fairly sure that Uncle Lo, at the very least, was fine with the whole gender thing. But still. They wanted to tell Virgil so badly. But… There was one more thing they’d figured out that they weren’t ready to share. They were aromantic. Or at least on that spectrum. So… They did and didn’t have a crush on Virgil. There was definitely, attraction they felt for the boy now sitting next to them in the car, singing loudly with them to the songs of one of their favorite bands as they were headed off for a weekend in New York for a P!ATD concert. They were having fun. It was a Janus day, so they felt okay when Uncle Lo and Virgil used male pronouns and stuff like that. Virgil grinned at him. “You better be prepared, I’m going to make you fit in with the crowd tomorrow,” he promised. Janus rolled their eyes and laughed. Setting in the next song with him. About an hour later they got to their hotel. “We have two adjacent rooms. I trust you boys can be responsible enough to be left to your own devices after dinner?” Uncle Lo asked sternly. Virgil and Janus exchanged a glance. “You can trust that we won’t do anything that could make you decide to go back home tomorrow. Making us miss the concert.” Janus assured his honorary uncle, who chuckled. “Well, I suppose that is very sound reasoning. I’ll let you two unpack. We’ll have dinner in the hotel restaurant in an hour,” he reminded them. “Okay, dad,” Virgil grinned as he opened the door to their room and they brought in their luggage. Virgil dropped his as soon as he closed the door. He took a running start and flopped on the bed. Or beds. It was a two bed room, but the beds were pushed together. “This bed is awesome! You have to try this Jan!” Virgil’s tendency to shorten Janus’ name was actually a blessing on their feminine days. Janus smirked and dropped his bags too and dove onto the bed next to Virgil. Oh, they were soft and comfortable. “It’s going to be a pain pushing them apart,” they muttered. “Eh, worries for later,” Virgil said dismissively as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we get to do this. It feels like forever since we’ve just hung out you know?” Janus felt a little bad. They’d been very tense lately, which had put a damper on every time they’d visited Virgil or invited him over. They hoped things would get better soon. Once they got over their attraction, they could tell him everything. And then they could get back to normal. They just… Most of the time they were fine. But there were moments when Janus had a gay panic around Virgil and his instinctive reaction was to push away. Which obviously confused Virgil. And rightfully so. Rationally they knew that if they explained themselves, Virgil would understand he didn’t do anything wrong here and everything would be fine again. But they were afraid he’d be weirded out by it. He might be okay with their pronouns bouncing around the way they did. He might be okay with him being attracted to guys. And maybe even with him being aromatic… But him being attracted to him might be too much. “Yeah… Sorry. I’m just…” Janus tried to figure out how to explain some of what he’s going through. Virgil was his best friend. He should tell him. “Hey, I get it. High School has me pretty stressed out too. But even if we don’t have all classes together, there’s lunch, and we’ll see each other outside of school hours to. I mean, we live next to each other. There’s no getting rid of me.” He turned his head and smirked at Janus at the last part. Janus smiled a little. Feeling a little better knowing that Virgil had no intentions of leaving him behind. He never had turned away from him just because some other kids told him he could hang out with them. People had even stopped trying to separate them. With one annoying exception. But he wasn’t going to give that guy the satisfaction of taking up space in their summer. They stared at the ceiling for a while, just talking no sign of any awkwardness. They made it through a fun dinner and when they got back to the room they played a game of truth or dare. It was harmless stuff. Just acting silly and nothing too challenging. Until… “Janus, truth or dare?” Virgil chuckled as he sat down after dancing to ‘barbie girl’. “Dare,” Janus replied carelessly. “Okay… I dare you to…” Virgil bit his lip and played with his sleeve as he thought about a good challenge. Janus knew that these were nervous habits of his but they couldn’t dwell on it very much as suddenly Virgil smirked and leaned in. “I dare you to kiss me.” It was a joke. Very clearly he only meant to take Janus by surprise and tease them about their reaction. But Janus was tempted. He could do it. Kiss him like he’d wanted to and Virgil couldn’t be mad because he’d literally told him to do it. It was the only rule they had for this game. Don’t dare anyone to do something if you are not prepared for them to actually follow through. Because they could be competitive enough to do very dumb stuff just to prove a point. So… If he kissed him now, he could maybe finally get the thought out of their head. And try to gage Virgil’s reaction to see if he was ready for them to come out. They’d hesitated too long though. Virgil was falling back and chuckling. “Relax I was just joking. Besides I never specified where you had to kiss me or anything. No need to stress out about it. Though…” Virgil looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. “You’re pretty cute. I wouldn’t hate kissing you I suppose,” he smirked, making heat flood Janus’ body. He wouldn’t? “You know, if I had to,” he added as he stuck out his tongue. Janus felt his embarrassment turn into annoyance. Virgil had gotten into the habit of complementing him like that. Wrapped up in casual teasing. He couldn’t know that it got Janus’ hopes up and Janus knew that getting upset at him would only hurt them both. But he often found himself powerless to stop it. He tossed Virgil a pillow. “You’re impossible,” he huffed. Hoping Virgil wouldn’t spot the frustration in his tone. Which of course he did. “J?” he asked gently as he got up. Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Janus just curled in on himself, too embarrassed to face him. “Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean anything with it okay?” Virgil assured him. “It’s just… I know you are kind of hung up on your skin sometimes… And you know I am terrible at expressing myself… All I wanted to do was like… Let you know I think you look cool and stuff. I know that it probably means nothing coming from me…” God, they were a terrible person. Virgil was trying his best to help them, to lighten the mood that plagued them even though they never let him in on what they were thinking. “You’re wrong,” they muttered into their knees. “It means a lot. It really does… I’m just being an ass hat,” they admitted. Virgil chuckled, their reply enough to let him relax it seemed. “Yeah, but I love ya anyway,” he assured them. There was a pause. “It’s getting late we should split the beds and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow,” Virgil noted. Janus uncurled themselves and nodded. They got up and each pulled one of the beds to the side. They dug through their suitcases for their PJs and Janus worried about whether it would be weird to go to the bathroom to get changed. In the past they just got dressed in front of one another when they stayed over. But that was all before… Before Janus could even finish their thoughts Virgil was heading to the bathroom. They relaxed, not even stopping to wonder why Virgil was suddenly shy about getting dressed in the same room as them. They just got dressed and in bed. They looked up when Virgil got back in the room. “Night J,” he bid as he turned off the lights. “Night V,” Janus replied. It took them a while to get to sleep. Try as they might they couldn’t keep themselves from imagining what it could’ve been like if they hadn’t hesitated. Those thoughts quickly turned to despair though. Virgil had never once expressed attraction to one of their male classmates. Not to mention that despite his whole broody aesthetic, their friend definitely wanted a romantic relationship. Their dreams were plagued with the fear of being found out and rejected. When they woke up Virgil was grinning down at them. Dressed and ready for the day. “Get up sleepy head. Time to get dressed. Breakfast is in one hour,” he informed them as he tossed them color shampoo. Right. They were going to be turned into a real emo kid for the concert today. Janus groaned and got up. Since when was Virgil a morning person? He was usually the last to fully wake up. He must be really looking forward to today. When they got into the bathroom they finally woke up enough to realize that not sleeping well wasn’t the only thing that had them feeling like crap. It was a Janice day. They let out a sigh and were grateful that they packed something they were comfortable in no matter how they felt for the concert. After their shower, they wrapped their hair up in a towel and pulled on the skinny jeans and the baggy band shirt Virgil gave them when he told them they were going to the concert. Apparently it being a few sizes to large added to the look. To Janice, it kind of felt as close as they dared to get to wearing a dress in public. “J? You done yet? Come on! I want to make you pretty!” Virgil’s teasing voice came through the door. Janice wished they could let their friend know how much they appreciated his make overs. “Yeah, I’m ready,” they replied, trying to sound slightly reluctant. Virgil got in with a grin, dragging a chair from the room along with him. He sat Janice down and dashed out of the room to get his make-up bag. When he returned his grin had not faded even a little. He immediately got to work. “You want to wear your hair down or up today?” he asked as he took out a hairdryer and started drying their hair for them. “Down,” Janice replied. Always down on Janice days. Virgil nodded. “Okay. I’m going to pull it out of the way for a bit though,” he informed them as he turned off the hairdryer and tied their hair together on the top of their head. “Close your eyes. It’s going to be a surprise,” he told them. Janice took a deep breath and relaxed as they closed their eyes. They felt Virgil apply something to their face with a sponge. Then a soft brush applied something powdery. Then he made quick work of their eyes and lips. “Okay. It should be warmed up now,” they heard Virgil murmur as he let down their hair again. Before they could ask they felt Virgil start to brush their hair. Pulling up locks and holding something warm against their scalp, moving upwards slowly. Wait was he… Straightening their hair? “Okay…” Virgil mused as he readjusted their shirt. “You can look.” Janice could hear the pride in Virgil’s voice. Clearly he was satisfied with the result. They opened their eyes and felt their mouth drop in awe. “Tragically beautiful I’d say,” Virgil smirked. Their birthmarks… They were gone. Or hidden at least. “What do you think?” Virgil pressed, sounding a little nervous. “It looks great,” they agreed. The waves were out of their hair and the black color actually looked pretty good. Their eyes and lips were accented with dark make-up. They looked good. A little sad but… Also cute? Virgil had rearranged their shirt. Janice had tried to center it, but Virgil had made it so that one of their shoulders was bare. They had never felt this good about how they looked on a Janice day while there were others around. “Awesome. Give me a minute to fix myself and then we’ll head to breakfast,” Virgil told them, clearly relieved that they liked their look. Uncle Lo was okay with Janice’s make over as soon as Virgil assured him that the color wouldn’t stick. And even that was probably only because he didn’t want Janice’s parents to get upset about it. They spent the day sightseeing. Janice got addressed as ‘miss’ at a few stores and while he and Virgil chuckled about it, in secret Janice was very happy with those instances. The concert itself was amazing. For a little bit they could pretend that they didn’t have massive secrets and that things would be okay.

everything to lose

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse @cirishere @hestianerd1

#sanders sides #ts sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #hero au #tw: mention of atraction #tw: mention of kissing #lgbtq+#genderfluid #aromantic #tw: self depriciation #Janus angst

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thatbloodymuggle · 4 years

Text

the one with the deal

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 10/?

masterlist

word count: 2.7k

warnings: filler

playlist

Rosie was a procrastinator in all aspects of life: school, work, errands, you name it. She'd push things off until the very last minute; until the anxiety ate her alive and she just had to complete whatever task it may have been. One of the worst feelings in the world was that nagging, anxiety-ridden one in her gut she got from ignoring whatever it was she had to do.

Today, however, Rosie was getting rid of that knot in her stomach.

She stood in the doorway of her mother's old room, staring at the work she had to do. Despite her reluctance, she forced herself into the room and stood next to the bed. Rosie ran her fingers along the freshly-washed bedding (thanks to JJ). With a long sigh and shake of her head, she ripped off the covers and set to work.

Goosebumps erupted all over her skin as she slowly stripped down the bed. Rosie created a neat pile in the corner of the folded sheets and covers. She worked until a bare mattress stared back at her. Next came the closet. She worked meticulously, taking clothing off the hangers one by one. Rosie would fold them and place them into one of two piles: keep or give away.

Normally when Rosie cleaned or worked around the house, she liked to play a CD in her boombox. Today, however, she was content in the silence.

Rosie smiled as her fingers brushed along the silky, smooth fabric of the long, red dress her mom had worn to a Midsummer's when she was just a baby. She folded it even more carefully than the others into the keep pile. The give away pile was rapidly growing, while the keep one remained small.

She wasn't sure how long she stood sorting through the seemingly endless rack of material. It had to have been an hour, at least. But Rosie was in no rush.

Rosie, John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were all waiting for good weather to go out and search for the sunken ship with the drone. Until then, there wasn't much else to do, so Rosie decided to spend the day clearing out her mother's things; something she'd been putting off for months now.

She pulled out the last item in the closet: a UNC sweatshirt that had belonged to her dad. Rosie began to fold it and place it in the keep pile, but paused. She stripped off the t-shirt she was currently wearing and pulled on the oversized sweatshirt instead. It felt odd wearing it. Rosie could remember her mom wearing it nearly every Sunday and her dad wearing it on boating trips before that. While it felt weird, it also felt right; like it belonged on her body.

Enveloped in the memories of both of her parents, Rosie moved the stack of give away clothes into a large cardboard box she'd pulled out. She then loaded the stack of bedding into an identical box. Rosie's ears perked up as she heard a car pulling into her gravel driveway.

Right on time, she thought to herself.

Rosie hauled the box of clothes out of the room and to the front door of her house. She kicked it open just as Kiara hopped out of her car.

"Need help?" Kie smiled.

"Yeah," Rosie huffed, handing her the box of clothes, "You can load this and I'll go in and get the rest."

Kiara nodded and took the cardboard box from her friend, loading it into the trunk of her car. Rosie didn't particularly want help getting rid of her mother's things. However her car was far too small to fit it all, so Kie offered to drive everything over to Salvation Army with Rosie in her larger car.

Rosie hurried back into the house to grab the box of bedding. She handed it to Kie at the front door to load. Rosie walked back into the front room and eyed the peeling paint of a red rocking chair. Her mother had always loved the chair. Every night before she went to bed, Rosie would find her reading in it. Rosie had always thought it was the ugliest thing. She tried to haul it out of the door, but it proved to be too heavy and bulky.

"Gonna need help with this one," she called out to Kie.

She came running over and the two girls loaded the large chair in the back of Kie's car.

"That it?" Kie clapped her hands.

"Just one more thing," Rosie ran back into the house. She returned with a box of broken pots that had been super-glued back together. "That's the last of it, I think."

"Good stuff," Kiara replied. She hopped into the driver's seat and Rosie in the passenger's. "You sure you wanna give it all away?"

"Yeah, it's a bunch of crap anyway. Gonna convert her old room into a guest room," Rosie shrugged. "My house my rules," she added with a grin.

Kie laughed and started the engine, driving out of the driveway and onto the road.

"I have a question. But you have to hear me out before you say no," Kiara spoke while looking at the road ahead. At least she was a better driver than John B, Rosie thought.

"Shoot."

"So Midsummer's is coming up-"

Rosie opened her mouth to protest but Kie held up her hand, signaling for her to wait.

"-and my parents are making me go. I know it's gonna be all Kooky and awful but it'll be so much less Kooky and awful if you come with me," Kiara shot Rosie a hopeful grin.

Rosie rolled her eyes, "No."

"Oh come on, Rosie. It can't be that bad! I'll let you borrow a dress and everything. All you have to do is show up!"

"I love you Kie, but hours of socializing with ignorant, self-centered assholes just isn't appealing."

Kiara sighed, "I know! But we'll have fun together, I promise!" Rosie still didn't look convinced.

"If you come with me I'll take over one of your shifts at the Wreck," Kie offered.

Rosie's ears perked up a bit, "Two and buy me an ice cream."

"Deal," Kie laughed.

Rosie turned to face her friend, "Will they even let a Pogue like me in?"

"Of course they will, you're a family guest," Kie quickly glanced at Rosie before looking back at the road. "And you're the only one of my friends my dad actually likes."

Rosie laughed at this. She'd really grown on the man since she began working for him at the Wreck. Mr. Carrera had also known and respected Rosie's dad before he passed. Sometimes, Rosie thought, Kie's dad forgot that she was a Pogue.

"Whatever you say," Rosie laughed.

A few minutes later, Kiara pulled the car into the parking lot for the Salvation Army store of the OBX. With the help of some workers, Rosie and Kiara unloaded the boxes and chair. Rosie ignored the twinge in her heart as the boxes and her mom's favorite chair was carried away.

"Where to?" Kie chirped as they got back into her car.

Rosie opened her mouth to say home, but the grumbling of her stomach stopped her. "Ice cream?"

Kiara laughed, "Ice cream it is."

The two girls chat the whole way to the ice cream parlor. It was refreshing spending time with just Kiara. Rosie hadn't realized how overwhelming the male energy of their friend group could be. So Rosie sat contently on a bench outside the shop, licking at a strawberry cone next to Kiara who had a vanilla.

"So," Kie spoke in between licks, "Did JJ ever apologize to you after the kegger? I know it was a while ago, but we haven't gotten a chance to talk about it."

Rosie scrunched her brows together. She'd done her best to forget about that night.

"Some way or another," Rosie shrugged, not indulging her in details.

Kie nodded, "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He's always insane, but recently it's like he's on crack too."

Rosie snorted at this, accidentally wiping some of her pink ice-cream onto her nose.

"Wouldn't be shocked," she mumbled, wiping the ice-cream off with a napkin. "How 'bout John B? Forever friendzoned?"

Kie shrugged with a sigh, "I think so. I don't know. It's complicated."

"Well he's under the impression he's in the friendzone," Rosie began to eat her cone.

"He is! I mean, I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a part of me that wanted to try something with him, but there's a bigger part of me that feels wrong about it, you know?"

Rosie knew. She definitely knew. But she simply nodded instead.

"Speaking of John B, I told him I'd go surfing with him at sunset. JJ and Pope will probably join too. Wanna come?" Kiara asked her friend.

Any other day, Rosie would be jumping out of her seat to go surfing, but not today. She was weirdly exhausted; not physically, but mentally. All she wanted was to sleep for 15 hours when she got home.

"I'm honestly really tired," Rosie finished off her cone. "I think I'm just gonna go to sleep early tonight--like, really early."

Kiara frowned, but nodded, "Let me give you a ride at least."

The two girls returned to her car and set off towards Rosie's home. It only took about five minutes to reach the small house. Rosie shot her friend one last smile, "I miss hanging out just us two. We should do stuff more often."

Kiara's eyes widened in agreement, "Definitely. Too much testosterone."

The two girls laughed as Rosie unbuckled her seat belt and exited the large car.

"Good weather tomorrow, right?" she called out, holding the car door open.

"Yep. Going deep sea exploring. 11:00. Don't be late," Kie winked and Rosie shut the door with one last wave.

Rosie smiled softly as the car drove away. She then entered her house with a sigh. The first thing she noticed was it felt much emptier; but not in a bad way. Before it had felt suffocating. Now, Rosie could finally breathe a little easier. She peeked out the window to glance at the setting sun. Rosie's eyes drooped and head ached from exhaustion. Not just from today, but from the past few days. She'd had too many sleepless nights thinking about the treasure hunt, her mother, JJ. All Rosie wanted was one dreamless sleep. She longed for the gears in her brain to stop turning. So, with no hesitation, Rosie prepared herself for what would (hopefully) be a dreamless sleep.

"All right, JJ. Pin it here!"

"Roger that! X marks the spot."

Rosie leaned against the side railing of the Heyward boat next to Kiara, looking out at the horizon of calm water. Anticipation was thick in the air as the teenagers got ready for what could possibly be one of the greatest days of their lives. They were about to find gold.

John B walked over to where Kiara and Rosie stood, preparing the drone to go underwater.

"All right ladies and gentlemen," he hovered the contraption over the edge of the boat, "to going full Kook!"

Rosie watched as he lowered the drone and handed off the wire to Kiara. Rosie watched with a piece of chalk in hand as the other girl continued to lower it in the water. John B had moved over to the digital map to direct JJ, while Pope took charge of moving the camera of the drone.

"All right, JJ, we're right over it. Ten seconds northwest," John B instructed the blond who was steering the boat.

"Got it. Ten seconds northwest!"

Rosie watched the wire Kiara was releasing until it hit a red mark signaling 100 feet. Rosie took her piece of chalk and made a tally along the edge of the boat.

"100 feet!" the two girls called out. Kiara continued releasing the rope.

Rosie looked up at the sky to see it was much darker than a minute before. She frowned, and anxiety began to settle in her. She did not want to get caught up in a storm and lose the drone.

"And to quote The Hobbit, "Down, down, to Goblin Town. Down, down you go my lad," Pope, who was manning the blank screen, spoke.

Rosie and Kiara continued lowering the drone and counting the number of feet.

"400 feet!" Kiara called out while Rosie marked her fourth tally with the chalk.

The previously calm water was beginning to stir.

"The tide's turning," Rosie added with a wavering voice.

"JJ?" John B grabbed the blond's attention. "Ten seconds easy. South-southeast. Alright?"

JJ replied without turning back, "Copy that!"

The water seemed to be getting rougher by the second, and John B's directions reflected that.

"JJ, 20 seconds mid-speed south!"

"Aye aye!" he affirmed, but the boat was having difficulty turning. Dark clouds darkened the previously bright sky, and thunder rumbled.

JJ turned back towards the two girls, "Keep the tether out of the prop!"

"I'm trying!" Kie panicked

"700 feet!" Rosie called out and made another mark along the edge of the boat.

The waves were now rocking the boat a great deal. Kie released the rope even faster than before, and Rosie stumbled slightly underneath he shifting weight.

"JJ, hold steady!"

"900!" Rosie yelled, struggling to maintain her composure.

"JJ, we'll turtle in this storm!" Pope verbalized everyone's concern.

The two girls continued with the rope, "920!"

"John B, there's too much current. We're gonna lose it!" Kie cried as the rope was pulled away from her. Rosie rushed over to her friend and pulled back with her in an attempt to regain control.

John B yelled at his friend behind the wheel, "Southwest, JJ. Hard!"

While the two girls held the wire steady, Pope and John B scanned the screen.

"What do you got Pope? Come on, man. What do you see?"

"Nothin'. A whole lot of nothin'."

Kie and Rosie released the rope a little more, "960! 970! 980!"

Pope shouted in excitement, "I'm at the bottom! JJ, hold steady!"

Suddenly, the water seemed to calm and the thunder stopped. It was as if the storm knew they'd found it.

"Good God," John B breathed in awe.

Rosie and Kie rushed over to the screen John B and Pope were staring at. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust, but sure enough, there it was. The Royal Merchant. The four teenagers watched silently as Pope moved the camera around, searching for the gold. But the more it scanned the ship, the more their hopes dropped.

"It's not there," John B sighed, "just pull the drone up."

He hung his head in disappointment.

"We can do another pass. Recharge the battery. We can go back down!" Pope tried to remain optimistic, but John B and JJ weren't having it.

"Guys we've been through it 3 times. There's nothing there!" JJ yelled.

"Shut up!" Rosie hissed.

The blond whipped around to glare at her, "What? It's true!"

"The gold could be buried, we don't know!" Kie sided with Pope, but it wasn't convincing enough.

"If it was there, it would've been found on the metal detector, okay?" John B yelled in distress. "Somebody beat us to it."

The anticipation that had filled the air morphed into disappointment. But no one's disappointment was greater than John B's. Rosie would be lying if she said she wasn't a little let down, but she felt much worse for her friend. His motivation for doing all this had been his father--it wasn't about the money.

So the Pogues rode back to shore slowly in silence. No one spoke. They all just listened to the distant rumbling of thunder and the splashing of waves.

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine@thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza@dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox @anahgiedd @love-bean @maleriefay @mrs-maybank @shawnssongs @downbytheouterbanks @lostwnoah @2410slb @daygiowvibe @thesailbells

another filler oops! next chapter is gonna be BIG though ;)

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj x reader #jj maybank x oc #jj x oc #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #John b #John b routledge #pope heyward #rafe cameron

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part four

summary: carmen actually steps foot inside her own house after discovering her daughter isn’t the only teenager living there. the hurricane hurtling toward the island matches the tempest in sailor’s heart as she finally gets some long-overdue words off her chest that her mom isn’t very happy to hear and two friends inch closer and closer to crossing that metaphorical line.

word count: 6.6k+ (oops, i did it again 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect, gambling addiction, child abandonment, being kicked out of home, fluff, swearing, underage drinking, flirting, having shitty dads, mentions of weed, star wars, and sailor’s unhealthy addiction to nutella, mention and direct quote of the percy jackson and the olympians series (again), subtle nod to new girl (i love seeing how many references i can make lmao)

a/n: first off, i just want to thank each and every one of you for your likes, reblogs, and especially your wonderful comments! they mean to world to me, seriously ❤ now, here comes the dramaaaaa! we get to dive into sailor’s complicated, turbulent relationship with her mother (sailor, like john b, has a very big, very real fear of being abandoned by people she loves because of her dad) before heading toward the canon timeline of the show. the quote about the sea near the beginning is from jaques cousteau, legendary french naval officer, marine explorer and filmmaker who co-created the aqua-lung and paved the way for modern scuba diving. he also pioneered marine conservation and discovered the wreck of the hmhs britannic, sister ship of the rms titanic! so overall, he was a pretty cool dude and i feel that he’d be a personal hero to ocean-loving sailor (maybe even kiara as well, considering her love of the environment/conservation).

unbetaed as usual so all mistakes are my b.

gif credit to @toesure (who has the most beautiful gifs, ngl)

~Masterlist~

part four: high tide

The sun’s just peeking its rays over the horizon, painting the deep blue sky the softest shades of pink and orange. Calm, steady waves lap against the shore and over Sailor’s bare feet as she stands alone on an empty and desolate beach, the only signs of life coming from the seagulls squawking overhead. The air is thick and sticky with early morning humidity, the type that makes it hard to breathe and frizzes the hell out of her wavy hair, and she can already feel moisture starting to collect on her skin.

Why’s she here again? She can’t remember a reason and come to think of it, she can’t remember exactly how she got here, either. Did she drive? She turns her back to the ocean and its entrancing pull to look for her truck but finds the surf shop is the only thing she can see clearly, the world surrounding it blurred in an incomprehensible mess of color; the sight should’ve caused anxiety to take root in her chest but somehow she finds herself unbothered, relaxed. Somehow, she feels at home.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

Sailor’s head snaps to the left at the sound of a painfully familiar voice. A tall, redheaded man now stands in what was only a few seconds ago an empty space, smiling out over the water with the brilliant colors of the sky reflecting in his green eyes.

“Dad?”

Ryan doesn’t seem to hear the incredulous tone in her voice or even the fact that she spoke at all as he turns to face her and asks a question of his own, “It’s true, don’t you think?”

Of course she does. The sea has had her under its captivating, magnetic spell ever since she first laid eyes on it when she was a toddler, a baby, even. Her parents always said she wanted to spend every waking moment at the beach, combing the sand for shells and staring out at the water, imagining what new discoveries were waiting for her in its depths. Her mouth moves on it’s own as she replies, “You know I do.”

It’s not what she wants to say at all. She wants so badly to yell at him, let out her frustrations and hurt and pain ‘how dare you leave us’ ‘what did I do wrong’ ‘why haven’t you come back yet’ but finds that she can’t form the words. It’s like she’s watching a video, or maybe reliving a memory -oh. It feels like a memory because it is one, she recognizes with a start, of the week before he took off and abandoned them for the very first time, leaving behind a gaping, bleeding wound that neither Sailor nor her mother ever managed to properly stitch back together.

Ryan’s smile widens. “Always got your eyes on the horizon, Starfish. Just like your old man.”

Her heart clenches at the old, familiar nickname that she hasn’t heard in years, like she’s looking at a favorite pair of childhood shoes or an old t-shirt from a family vacation long past and realizing she doesn’t fit in them anymore, that she’s moved on, and surprisingly, it doesn’t sting as much as she thought it would.

“Come on,” Her father says and when he reaches out to her, Sailor finds herself reaching back with a much smaller, eight-year old sized hand that’s swallowed by Ryan’s larger, calloused palm. “Think you can go fifteen feet today?”

“Fifteen? I’m gonna go twenty!” She declares confidently in her most grown-up voice, giggling when her dad beams and hoists her little body up into his arms, the stubble on his face tickling her skin as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

He runs into the surf, tossing a laughing Sailor into the ocean when it’s waist deep before they wade out, further and further until the sandy floor drops away from their feet and they’re left treading water.

“Ready, Starfish?”

“Ready!”

The sun breaks over the horizon and casts its golden light on the pair, turning their hair an identical shade of fiery red just as they dive below. She has to work harder to keep up with her father’s longer strokes but she does it and reaches the bottom the same time he does; he smiles widely and reaches out to quickly cup her cheek, pride shining clearly in his eyes and she beams back before turning away to scan the floor for any worthy shells. Finding a knobbed whelk a few feet away, she swims over to grab it before pushing off toward the surface, Ryan following close behind. The sun becomes brighter and brighter the closer she gets and just when her head breaks through the waves-

Sailor wakes.

The early morning sun shines across her eyes through the curtains as she stares up at the surfboard above her bed, the very shelf were the whelk from that day still sits, proudly displayed with her other finds. Yawning, she runs her hands over her face and blinks away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her lashes, along with the memory of her dream. Moments like that with her father were rare. Ryan was a blast to be around when he was happy doing something he wanted to do, like diving for shells, hitting up the bowling alley for a few games, or taking his old, beat up boat out into the marsh to fish for hours on end (never something mundane as doing the dishes or folding the laundry, no, those were children’s jobs and being an only kid, those responsibilities fell to Sailor.). Moments like that were when she felt that -naively, foolishly- her dad was actually proud of her, that he wasn’t horribly inconvenienced by her having the audacity to be his daughter, to be born, that maybe he loved her as much as she loved him.

Cold from a sudden shiver that runs through her body, she rolls onto her side to seek out the best human space heater she knows but her arm only finds empty sheets lacking warmth, her hand reaching for someone who’s no longer there. She frowns and sits up, fingers automatically running through her sleep mussed waves in a semi-futile attempt to fix them into something less resembling a bird’s nest. A quick check of the phone she doesn’t remember plugging in to charge reveals its just before 7 in the morning and her confusion over her missing bedmate only grows; JJ’s rarely ever conscious before 9 AM at the absolute earliest and almost never by his own volition unless surfing’s involved. Even Binx is gone from his usual spot at the end of the bed, leaving her truly alone in the tiny room.

On the floor alongside his boots, the backpack she never noticed him having yesterday is still where he dropped it with its zipper open wide, while his phone rests next to hers on the bedside table and Sailor feels an almost embarrassing wave of relief wash over her knowing he’s still here, that he didn’t just up and disappear in the middle of the night, that he stayed (of all the times he’s come to her before, only once did he leave before dawn and, after she’d frantically tracked him down at John B’s place, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face at the thought of him returning to the lion’s den that he called home, he held her close and promised to never do it again.). She pulls herself out of bed and crosses the room to pull on a random hoodie from the closet before pocketing her phone and padding into the hall, the wooden floor cool under her bare feet.

A demanding meow comes from the kitchen followed immediately by a vexed, “Binx, my dude. For the last time, you can’t have this.” JJ’s bright laugh echoes throughout the room when Binx meows again, this one more insistent than the last and the redhead smiles, quietly shuffling forward to lean against the wall. He doesn’t notice, instead holding a finger to his lips as he shushes the cat sitting on the counter beside him, then turns back to whatever he’s doing. “Be quiet, dumbass! You don’t wanna wake your mom up, do you?”

“I don’t know, sounds to me like he might need my help.”

He startles at her teasing voice, nearly dropping the butter knife in his hand as she steps forward and scoops Binx into her arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy cheek. “Is mean old J not feeding you, Binxy? That just won’t do!”

He rolls his eyes but the grin tugging the corners of his mouth upward betrays his amusement as he says sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m the bad guy for not giving the brat Nutella. Great.”

With a laugh, Sailor gives the cat another loving scratch behind the ears before gently setting him on the floor and hoisting herself onto the counter beside JJ, her legs swinging back and forth and lightly brushing against his side. “So...you’re up early.” She says, watching him scrape the last bit of Nutella out of the jar and smear it on some toast, another piece already made on the plate at his elbow.

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed.” He shrugs, tossing the knife in the sink and the empty container into the trash; her stomach does a little flip when he brings his hand to his mouth and licks away the chocolate left behind on his thumb, then continues, “Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet but that shithead over there wouldn’t shut up.”

He nods his chin in the direction of a lounging Binx, stretched out on the back of the couch in the sun and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I-” She shrugs, too, and meets his blue-eyed gaze. “I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Bad dream?” JJ asks, holding the plate of toast out to her and she takes a piece with a grateful smile as she replies, “I’d call it more of a bittersweet memory.”

They both fall into a comfortable silence while they eat until he suddenly asks another question around a mouthful of breakfast, “About your dad?”

Sailor freezes mid-chew, her father’s green eyes flicking away from her best friend’s face toward the floor as she swallows thickly, her free hand anxiously clenching the fabric of her shorts. After a long, pregnant pause in which they finish their food and he puts the dirty plate in the sink, she finally says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

She apologizes again, staring down at the floor and swinging her legs back and forth, her bare feet hitting the cabinet with dull thuds.

“For what?” His brow furrows in confusion while he takes a step forward to stand between her legs, one hand reaching to hook a finger under her chin and lift her head so he can look her in the eye, the other resting on her knee. “Seriously, help me out here ‘cause I’m confused as fuck.”

“Because I feel guilty, okay?” She starts, eyelids briefly closing as she takes a deep breath before snapping open again and continuing before he can interrupt, “Here I am, getting upset over a stupid dream I had about my gambling addict dad that ditched me when your dad does that,” -she points to his bruised ribs- “and this,” -her palm rests on his cheek, thumb skimming over his scabbed lip- “and God, I just-”

“Whoa, hold up there, Sail.” JJ cuts her off, his free hand joining the other in cupping her face, “Just because your dad never hit you doesn’t mean you don’t have something to be pissed about. He abandoned you, stole your mom’s money, and made you feel like shit! You have a right to be mad as fuck about it.”

“But-”

“But nothing! We’re not having a fucking competition about who has the shittiest dad,” -He smirks devilishly, brushing a wayward red curl off her forehead- “because they both suck major dick. End of story.”

In spite of herself, Sailor snickers as she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him close, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder while his own arms slide around her waist. “We should start a club.” She jokes lightly and feels his snort of laughter against her ear in response.

“‘Shitty Dad Society,’” He declares proudly, “I call being president.”

“Well, I’m your VP! Binx’s our secretary- shit, I’ll be treasurer, too ‘cause I don’t trust you with any type of financial situation at all.”

He laughs again, hand tightening its grip on her waist and she smiles into his neck as he says, “That’s fair. We should make shirts.”

They settle into another comfortable silence after that, both more than happy to relax in the other’s arms and just be. It’s one of her favorite things about..whatever they are, the ease, the contentment, the familiarity felt when they’re together are sentiments she never, ever wants to lose and a thought, an exciting, dangerous thought pops into her head: what if he never has to leave?

“Come live with me.”

“...what?”

Oh, fuck, she just said that out loud, didn’t she? Brain, enter panic mode. The redhead abruptly pulls out of his embrace and buries her already blushing face into shaking hands, closing her eyes tight for good measure, stammering between her fingers, “Nothing, nothing! I said nothing!”

“Pretty sure you said something,” His hands encircle her wrists and gently pull them down to her lap. “And it wasn’t ‘nothing.’”

She stares down at their entwined fingers resting on her thighs, the backs of his hands deliriously warm against her exposed skin and grounding her to this (scary, exciting, vulnerable) moment, and blurts out in a rush, “I said, come live here. With me.”

JJ doesn’t speak, but the way his hands almost imperceptibly tighten their hold on hers -she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already been looking- compels her to raise her head and meet his eyes; the indescribable depth of the ocean is behind his gaze, as well as the barest hint of pure, brazen hope, and it says everything his mouth won’t.

“Remember yesterday, when you said you don’t know how much more you can take?” She asks. At his tight nod, she weaves her fingers even more intricately with his and admits softly, “Well, I’m not sure how much more I can take, either.”

Sailor’s eyes sweep over the cuts on his face with all the gentleness of a lover, his lip first, followed by the one on his cheekbone before meeting his again. “I can’t...I can’t see you hurt like this anymore.”

Blue stares into green for an insurmountable stretch of time, long enough that she starts to think that she should’ve just kept her big mouth shut, until he finally whispers, “Seriously?”

“J, I’ve never been more serious about something in my entire life. I can’t let him do this to you anymore.” She finishes with a shrug, “My mom’s never here, anyway. It’d be, uh, really nice to not be alone all the time ‘cause as much as I love him, Binx doesn’t count.”

His eyes become stormy at that casual admission of loneliness for just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment before brightening into their natural blue, the same color of the sky on a clear day as he says simply, “Okay.”

“Seriously?” It’s her turn to ask it now and the smile that breaks over her face when he nods is one of unabashed relief; without thinking, she leans closer and presses her forehead to his. “Good.”

He smiles, too, and briefly lets his eyes fall shut at the contact as he jokes, “Just so you know, Flynn, I’m probably not gonna be the best roommate.”

“Please,” She giggles, freeing one of her hands to playfully push at his shoulder, “I live with the most spoiled, demanding cat in the world. I think I can handle you, Maybank.”

The teasing smirk on his face makes her heart beat a little faster. “We’ll see about that.”

Sailor decides to pretend she didn’t hear his loaded comment (she’s not quite ready to open up that particular can of worms just yet), instead pulling her phone from her hoodie pocket to check the time. “Alright, here’s the deal: in one,” -she glances at the time again because holy shit does she have the short-term memory of a fucking chimp- “two hours, we’re going shopping and, hey, don’t give me that look!” She laughs at the pained expression that crosses his face, “If you’re gonna live here, get ready to put in the work.”

JJ offers her a lazy salute with his free hand and she rolls her eyes, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he says coyly (again, damn him!), “Yes, ma’am.”

“Until then, though,” The redhead continues, hopping off the counter to grab his hand and starts pulling him toward the hall to her room, “We have a book to read and you have some Greek to mispronounce.”

“Fuck, you’re bossy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

It goes like this: for nearly three weeks, life for the pair is pretty damn good. The summer days pass the same as they had been, either spent lazing around with the rest of the pogues or working their variety of jobs -Sailor at the ice cream parlor, along with her weekly shell dives and the beginner surf classes she teaches for The Sandbar, JJ at the country club and doing whatever odd jobs he can find around the island- as June slowly bleeds into July. They find themselves doing everything together: shopping, cooking dinner, sharing her tiny room, and it’s so painfully domestic, so natural and so right that it hurts to wrap her head around it.

If their friends notice, none of them comment on it, even though she sees the looks sent their way whenever they both hop out of Sailor’s truck together (most are curtesy of eagle-eyed Kiara, but Pope and even the ever oblivious John B raise their eyebrows a few times). At night they continue to read through the Percy Jackson series, taking turns reading aloud each evening and for a short, blissful time, they let go of the burdens weighing heavy on their shoulders. For a while, everything is close to perfect.

Typically, predictably, it doesn’t last and when shit finally hits the fan, it happens in epic fashion because nothing is ever easy when they’re involved.

It happens a few days after the Fourth of July. It’s late-afternoon, Hurricane Agatha brewing off the coast causing the clouds to streak faster through the sky and, with the rest of their friends working or otherwise occupied, the two teenagers decide to spend a day lounging at home, getting in a few more chapters of The Battle of the Labyrinth and drinking the beer left over from a night of partying at John B’s house.

“’Jumping out a window five hundred feet above ground is not usually my idea of fun,’“ Sailor reads as she relaxes on the couch, book in one hand and can of PBR in the other, the wind blowing in through the open window ruffling her hair, “‘Especially when I’m wearing bronze wings and flapping my arms like a duck.’“

“I’ll drink to that,” JJ says, briefly lifting his head from her lap to chug the rest of his beer before settling back down, feet propped up on the couch’s arm. They’re both a little buzzed, having lost count of how many drinks they’ve downed but she’s had enough to make her start giggling at his comment as she struggles to keep reading while Binx, fed up with the noise, jumps down from his spot behind her and slinks down the hall to find some peace and quiet.

“Damn you, stop it!” She laughs harder as he pulls a ridiculous face at her pronunciation of Daedalus, then shoots her an impish grin and she responds by ‘accidentally’ dropping the paperback on his face. Both are so caught up in hysterics that they don’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway or a key unlocking the front door.

“Sailor!”

The girl freezes at her name, green eyes widening at the sharp tone of her mother’s voice. Slowly, she turns her head to look over her shoulder where she stands, arms crossed, and she’s so shocked Carmen’s actually looking her in the eye that nothing comes out of her open mouth but an oh so eloquent “huh?”

“What the hell is going on here?” The older woman demands, moving around the couch before either teenager can react, and her eyes narrow when she catches sight of JJ’s head on her daughter’s thigh and the empty beer cans on the end table. “Are you two drunk? Get up, now.”

He hastily does as she asks, eyes downcast to the floor and shaking hands clenched at his sides; ignoring her mother’s glare, Sailor deliberately reaches over and rests one palm on top of his as she says tightly, “Nice to see you home for once, I’m surprised you remembered where it is.”

It’s a low blow and she knows it but she can’t find it in her fuzzy, alcohol-numbed brain to care when Carmen reels back like she’s been slapped before she seems to compose herself, mouth pressing into a thin line. “Sailor Giselle, don’t you dare talk to your mother like that!”

The redhead feels something inside her snap and she glares up at the only parent she has left, all but spitting her next words, “Then start acting like my mother! This is the first time I’ve seen you here in four months!”

“I had to come home after Rachel told me you were shacking up with some boy! Do you have any idea-”

“Rachel?!” Sailor explodes at the mention of their obnoxiously invasive old biddy of a neighbor whose sole mission in life is knowing everyone’s business, “God, that hag just can’t keep her nose out of anything can she?”

Carmen crosses her arms once again and glowers at her daughter. “You know how hard it is for me to be in here, Sailor. I asked her to keep an eye on you for me and I’m glad I did.”

The teenager stares at her in disbelief before barking a loud, humorless laugh. “Let me get this straight: you asked our neighbor to spy on me so you didn’t have to come home...so you didn’t have to actually put in some effort?” Carmen opens her mouth to defend herself but before any words can come out, Sailor continues, throwing her free hand in the air, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“This is my house!” Her mother thunders, not noticing the way the silent blond boy flinches at her yell and how her daughter tightens her grip on his hand. “This is my house and I can do whatever I damn well please, including having someone look out for you when I can’t.”

“When you won’t, you mean.” She scoffs, shaking her head in thinly-veiled disgust, “I’m doing just fine on my own, no thanks to you, Mom.”

“Does ‘doing just fine’ mean living alone with this kid?” Carmen spits and when she glances at JJ like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe, Sailor’s finally had enough and takes a step toward the older woman with a furious glare.

“Will you just let that go? God! He’s my best friend and he needed somewhere to stay, that’s it!”

“I don’t care.” Turning to JJ, she demands coldly, “Go pack your shit and get out.”

“No.” Green eyes hardening into chips of emerald, the redhead grabs his other hand as he goes to leave the room and steps in front of him protectively. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Carmen pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice low as she threatens, “I swear to God, Sailor, either he leaves or I’ll make him leave.”

When she feels his whole body go rigid behind her, she knows her mom’s won this particular battle and before she can even turn to face him he’s disappeared down the hall to her room without a word. Sailor whirls to face her like the wind outside, red hair flying over her shoulder like a whip as she seethes, “How dare you.”

The older woman sighs like she’s the one hurting and crosses to the window before closing it with a firm hand. “Drop it, I’m done arguing.”

“I care about him, Mom, you can’t just kick him out!”

“I said drop it! I don’t give a shit how you feel about him, I’m not having your homeless boyfriend mooching-”

“Jesus Christ -his dad beats the shit out of him!”

The words ring out like a bell, loud and clear and impossible to ignore. Carmen freezes in the middle of picking up a discarded can, tan skin turning pale as she stares, mouth slightly agape, at her daughter; the girl stares back unflinching, and despite her heart’s rapid staccato in her chest, her next words cut like a knife.

“He’s not homeless, okay? But his dad hits him, all the damn time. You’re not gonna stand by and let that happen, are you?”

Her mother’s eyes soften -for a fleeting moment, she looks like her old, caring self again- before they harden to steel, the open expression on her face slamming closed with all the force of a screen door in a hurricane.

“I’m sorry -really, I am- but that’s not my problem.”

Sailor flinches at the icy edge in her voice and looks down at the floor, jaw clenched tight as she tries to blink away the sudden burning behind her eyes. “I...I don’t know you anymore. My mother would never say that.”

She hears Carmen heave another deep sigh as her footsteps slowly head toward the front entry, “You and I have a lot to talk about when I get back from work, Sailor.” She says, followed by the snatching of keys and the door handle turning. “And that boy had better be gone when I do.”

The redhead looks up from her feet, watching the door slam behind her mother’s retreating form before hastily making her way down the hall to her room and like that morning, the wave of relief that she feels when she sees JJ still sitting on her bed, realizing he’s still here, is downright embarrassing but she’s well past the point of caring. In a flash, Sailor’s in his arms, face pressed against his neck as she cries, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sail, you’ve gotta stop apologizing for things you can’t control.” He whispers when she eventually falls silent and she can’t stop the rough laughter bubbling in her chest, even as her whole world feels like it’s falling apart around her.

“Sorry.”

His own laugh is short and low in her ear, and then he’s pulling her closer as his hand draws soothing circles on her back. She lets herself relax for a brief moment, eyelids fluttering closed at his touch, before she takes a deep breath and pulls back to look him in the eye, hands carelessly wiping away the tears on her cheeks, “Help me pack.”

“...what?”

“When she kicked you out, she kicked me out, too.” She says matter-of-factly at JJ’s confused look while she abruptly kneels, pulling her old suitcase from under the bed and heaving it up onto the mattress.

“Okay, so she didn’t actually kick me out but she might as well have!” The redhead strides to her closet and starts picking out her favorite clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed as she fumes, “God, I even told her about your dad -I’m sorry, shit I did it again- and she said she didn’t care! Not to mention she had our neighbor spy-”

“Sail!” She’s so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice when JJ moves to stand beside her, and only when he puts his hands on her shoulders does she stop short, a Kildare County High School sweatshirt dangling from her fingers; she can feel him watching her and when she flicks her gaze up to meet his, she’s not at all prepared for the tempest of emotions -admiration, pride, empathy, something else she can’t name- all crashing like the surf behind his eyes.

Blue. Oh so blue. It’s been her favorite color ever since she knew what colors were and she thinks her favorite shade has to be the one she finds in his eyes: bright, clear, and ever easy to drown in if she’s not careful.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it in such a casual way that it’s impossible to think it’s not as intentional as the fingers that slowly tuck a stray curl behind her ear and the thumb that brushes along her flushed cheek.

She just shakes her head with a tiny, bashful smile and her words are an echo of a quiet, rainy night all those weeks ago, “I’m just doing what feels right.”

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, one that helps them both sober up as they fill her suitcase to the brim with everything Sailor thinks she’ll need for a long stay, wherever she ends up. The Chateau makes the most sense of course, but with the DCS breathing down John B’s neck recently, she’s not sure how viable of an option that is but there’s one thing she knows for sure: there’s no way in hell she’s coming back here any time soon. It hurts to leave her shell collection behind -for a brief, dark moment she toys with the idea of tearing the shelf down and smashing them all until they’re turned to dust but she pushes that thought away- so she takes her favorite, the lightning whelk that reminds her of JJ and that day on the beach, and gently tucks it away in her backpack to ease the sting, as a promise to one day return for the rest.

“Jackpot!” JJ exclaims and she looks up to find him on the floor by her chair, pulling up the loose wood board that hides her secret stash of booze and money and reaching in to snag a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it above his head with a triumphant smile.

“Shit, I forgot that was even in there,” She replies as she kneels beside him and snatches the whiskey from his hand before he can take a swig, slipping it into her backpack, “Not yet.”

“Oh, come on,” He laughs when she rolls her eyes at his pout and reaches into the dark space to pull out an old plastic lunchbox, along with a small flask that gets thrown in her bag without a second glance. “Boooo.”

“Patience,” She teases, opening the cracked lid to take all of the cash inside and stuffs it into the ziploc bag that doubles as a purse (“it’s cheap and waterproof, what more do I need?” was her argument when Kiara asked her why she didn’t have an actual handbag), which she then stuffs in her backpack. “We can get drunk after we get out of here.”

“You had me at ‘drunk,’“ He slides the floorboard back into place after Sailor tosses the empty lunchbox inside and then stands, pulling her up alongside him with his hand in hers, the other reaching out to grab the handle of her suitcase. “Ready when you are.”

The redhead takes one last look around her room, from the assortment of shells and pictures on one wall to her poster of Bethany Hamilton on the other and everything in between -her sanctuary for the longest time- before turning away from the familiar comfort of the old to face the enticing uncertainty of the new. “Let’s go.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab her shampoo, conditioner, and toothbrush -no way in hell is she gonna share any of those with the boys- then the kitchen to grab some food for Binx and the cat himself from the back of the couch (surprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight), they head outside and throw her suitcase and their backpacks in the bed of the truck along with her surfboard.

“John B’s probably gonna be pissed about the cat,” JJ says, leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, smirking as she gives him a flat look and unceremoniously dumps Binx onto the bench seat through the driver’s side window.

“Well, John B’s just gonna -stay, Binxy!- have to get used to it. I’m not leaving him behind.”

Across the street, Rachel perches on her porch as she watches the two teenagers with her beady little eyes and Sailor, feeling particularly defiant, grins wickedly. “J, watch this.” Waving to the woman to catch her attention she calls over the wind, “Hey, Rachel!” before slowly extending both middle fingers toward her, one at a time. “That one’s for my mom and this one’s for you, you nosy bitch!”

He instantly joins in and both hold their hands high, cackling with laughter, until the old crone scowls and slithers back into her house like the snake she is. “Good riddance,” the redhead says, opening the truck’s door and sliding behind the wheel, “Let’s blow this joint.”

“Joint?” JJ asks, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him, Binx instantly curling up on his lap, “Did you say joint?”

“You and weed, I swear...” She laughs and goes to start the engine before she realizes she’s grasping at an empty ignition and lets her head fall against the steering wheel with a thunk, “Son of a bitch, I forgot my keys. I’ll be right back.”

Going back inside isn’t as hard as Sailor thought it would be, but leaving is a whole other ball game. She snatches her keys from the bathroom sink where she left them and heads back toward the front door; she’s just passing by their family portrait when it hits her: this is it, the last time in who knows how long she’ll be here. It’s now or never. She thinks of it as a weight on her shoulders, one that’s been dragging her down for far too long, like Atlas holding up the sky, but unlike him, she’s going to break the chains and set herself free.

In one final, sudden burst of years of anger and hurt and frustration, she rips the picture from the hook and smashes it to the floor, sending pieces of glass and wood skittering down the hall before striding from the house and all its memories without a backwards glance, slamming the door behind her with a resolute bang.

Surprisingly, John B doesn’t give a shit about the cat when they show up at the Chateau but he does give a shit about Sailor and her well-being after they give him a quick rundown of the afternoon’s happenings.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sail?” He asks as he and JJ carry her bags into the house and deposit them in the spare room, the redhead trailing behind with Binx in her arms.

“That’s the age old question, bro,” She deflects with a shrug, taking a seat on the bed and setting the cat down beside her; he instantly takes off to explore his new home as she continues, “Who actually knows if they’re okay? What’s okay to one person can be completely different to another-”

“Sailor, seriously.”

She glances back and forth between the two boys -two sweet, caring boys- watching her with twin looks of understanding and relents. “Look, I’m still kind of...processing everything, alright? I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for me to find out but I promise you,” She says softly, looking them both in the eye, “I’ll let you know if I’m not okay. Deal?”

JJ shoots her an enthusiastic thumbs up while John B opts for a simple nod and she grins before pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels from her backpack with a flourish. “Good. Now, I think we could all use a drink.”

The trio (and Binx, house thoroughly explored) bums around the living room while the afternoon slowly turns to evening, the wind outside getting worse with each passing hour the storm moves closer, passing the bottle back and forth until none of them are anywhere close to sober. What started as a game of truth or dare quickly dissolves into straight up truth as they get remarkably philosophical about what animal they’d want to be (an eagle for John B, a wolf for JJ, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, a dolphin for Sailor) and then have a deep, animated discussion about the best Star Wars movie and why it’s The Empire Strikes Back. Later, when the whiskey’s down to a few sips left and their collective demons have retreated to the very back of their minds, JJ drunkenly suggests playing strip poker and both Sailor and John B have to remind him that none of them a.) know how to play poker or b.) even own a deck of cards.

“Damn it!” The sly grin falls from his face when he realizes they’re right and he dejectedly sinks back into the couch, head coming to rest on the redhead’s shoulder. “I wanna see you take your clothes off, Flynn.”

She laughs loudly and grabs the bottle from his hand before taking a big sip and passing it to John B. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Maybank.” Whiskey, she found out few months ago, hits her hard: her filter? Gone. Blushing? Aside from the flush in her cheeks from the alcohol, gone. Self-consciousness? As long gone as her father. She’ll flirt her heart out without giving a single shit and it’s both a blessing and a curse, as well as an endless source of secondhand embarrassment in the morning.

“That’s okay, you know I like a challenge.” He declares with a wink, cracking up when she plants her hand directly on his face and pushes him off her shoulder as John B snorts and downs the last of the liquor without either of them noticing.

“Jesus, get a room,” He uses the empty bottle to point down the hall, then sets it on the side table with a hollow thunk as he leans back and stretches his arms above his head. “There’s one right there.”

Sailor gives him a swift kick in the shin with her bare foot for that, plus the shit-eating grin on his face. The trio lounges around for a little while longer, relaxing in a whiskey-induced haze; the redhead finds herself nodding off every so often, slipping back further and further until her head finds a place to rest on JJ’s lap and her legs end up on John B’s. The feel of fingers running through her hair is so feather light that she can barely keep her eyes open and before she knows it, she’s down for the count.

When she wakes some indefinite amount of time later the room is dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows and John B’s gone from his spot by her feet, Binx curled up in a ball on the cushion instead. JJ’s dead asleep, hand stalled in her curls and the sight of his head tipped back against the couch with his mouth slightly open is so damn endearing that she can’t help but smile, even as she reaches a hand up to gently shake his shoulder.

“J, wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He groans, free hand sluggishly pushing her arm away. Sailor sits up and swivels to face him before shaking him again, giggling quietly at the way his head lolls from side to side.

“Come on, the bed’s way comfier than this.”

Sleepy blue eyes open to give her a heavy look that screams both gratification and longing and so much hope as he quips, “You just want me in your bed again, don’t you?”

She reverently rolls her eyes but reaches to grab his hands anyway and pulls him to his feet, both swaying in place before they find their balance. “And if I do?”

The corner of his mouth rises in a small, adorable smile as his fingers entwine with hers. “I’d say that’s right where I want to be.”

“Well, you’re in luck ‘cause that’s where I want you to be, too.” Still a little bit tipsy, her words are honest, sincere, and as she leads him down the hall, she realizes that old saying is true: drunk words are sober thoughts. After three weeks sharing a home, a room, a bed, she just doesn’t think she can sleep without him anymore and that belief doesn’t quite scare her as much as she thought it would.

Lying wrapped up in his arms in the dark, Sailor finds herself dreaming of a future -as much of a future an impoverished, quasi-homeless, not-quite alright, not-quite-seventeen year old can dream of- with the damaged boy that holds oceans in his eyes.

A few miles away, Carmen Flynn sits on her daughter’s bed with a broken picture frame in her hands as she cries, all alone in an empty house with no idea how to make things okay again.

let me know what you think! also, fun fact: sailor compares her short-term memory to a chimp because studies have shown that chimpanzees are the absolute worst at remembering things, not goldfish as we previously thought (they can remember things for at least five months, compared to chimps who, despite their similarities to humans, forget things in about twenty seconds). sailor, being a zoology nerd, would definitely find that fascinating and make it her mission to educate the masses that goldfish aren’t that stupid jj finds it both adorable and kind of hot

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky @ethereallust

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world-of-horrors-au · 4 years

Text

Horrors AU - Into the Wolves’ Den

Part 2 of the ‘Briar VS Proxies’ story. Part 1 here.

TW: mentions of violence, ask to tag

No one ever told her proxies were as strong as Horrors. There was no way to pull away from Hoodie's grip. Not that she wanted to try. The moonlight glinted off the rifle in his other hand. He'd been willing to use it before on her. Even if she somehow got away, he'd shoot her down before she could get far. And then, what would happen to her? Would he carry her away? Or would he shoot her in the head? Even a Horror couldn't survive that.

Briar had no choice but to follow him wherever he was taking her.

They were the loudest things in the Forest. More her than him. Hoodie dodged past trees and avoided branches with skilled practice. Everything broke under Briar's feet. She was trained to sneak through buildings, not nature. If it annoyed Hoodie, he didn't say it. He didn't say anything to her at all.

She drew in a breath, tasting the wood and heat in the air.

"Are you going to kill me?" Briar asked.

"Shut up," Hoodie said. The iron grip tightened, and she cringed. "No," he added, his grip relaxing. "But if you don't do what we want, you'll wish we would."

Swallowing, Briar nodded. Do what they want. Do whatever they wanted. What other choice did she have? They could hurt the others if she acted out. He says they wouldn't kill her, but that didn't mean much. Jeff taught her all about the things you could do to someone without killing them.

Oh, Jeff… her heart ached at the thought of her mentor. If only she'd listened to him.

“Please,” she said, looking at him. “Something’s wrong. Do you know where-”

“Are you deaf?” Hoodie snapped. “I said shut up!”

Briar flinched away. Hoodie took a deep breath.

“I’ve noticed it too,” He said, in a steady, growling voice. “I know your friends are gone. But it’s not my job to care about them. I have my orders, and they involve getting you taken care of.”

She shuddered.

“If you say anything else,” Hoodie said, tone darkening, “Without me addressing you first, I’m going to break your leg and make you walk the rest of the way there. Keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

Images of her teenage years flashed through her head. When she was fifteen, she’d dislocated her knee at a survivor’s camp. The camp’s major decided the injury was her own fault, and told the medics not to help her. The next two weeks were agony, Briar barely able to move, but still forced to walk and stand and sit with the others. They told her the pain was her weakness leaving her body. It was only when they were short on hands that the major decided to have her knee popped into place to help build the security wall. Her biological family wasn’t there to help her, just like her real family wasn’t here to save her now.

She’d never forgotten what it was like to dislocate her knee. And breaking a leg was worse. Now her body healed faster than before, so it wouldn’t be two weeks of suffering, but if she could avoid any extra pain… Was that considered cowardice? Then she must be a coward.

Briar nodded. Hoodie snorted, yanked her forward, and walked faster through the trees. She forced herself to keep up.

She knew the Forest was massive, and maybe it was the fear talking, but this walk seemed to take longer than any she'd taken before. The silence hurt. All the questions she had circled through her head, like echoes. She wanted Jeff. She wanted Eyeless Jack and Ben, and Laughing Jack, too, even if he drove her crazy. What was she going to do? How was she going to survive this? She should've listened to Jeff…

Through the trees, light caught her eye. Briar tensed, refocusing her attention. Wherever he was taking her must be up ahead, and if she got out and wanted to find it again, she had to focus.

She wasn't prepared for it.

Briar had only seen buildings as big as this in the cities. She'd heard about old manors, pre-fall mansions, that could've housed over twenty people, and employed over fifty just to take care of it. Huge and gray, it stood as tall as the trees, three stories of windows and balconies, carved monsters perched on the roof, beautiful and hideous, a disaster of design and existence. It shouldn't still be standing, ivy clutching every wall, glass windows shattered or missing. The wood was rotting, the brick crumbling. And yet there were lights on, she could see them shine by either side of the front door. How?

Her feet almost stumbled on the first stone but Hoodie didn't let her fall, hauling her up and forward. Briar's stomach twisted, looking down at her shoes as they stumbled over the once impressive pavement, now overgrown with weeds and grass.

They live here, Briar thought. Like Jeff told me.

Hoodie was taking her to the other proxies, and what was going to happen to her then? Would they tear her apart like they did when they executed a Horror? Or would it be a slow torture, a gradual fall into despair, or worse?

As they stepped up the stairs, someone laughed from the inside. Briar inhaled the hot summer air and bit her lip. She couldn’t show fear. She had to be like Jeff. But as Hoodie yanked the door open, and a cold breeze slammed into her face, Briar realized a stoney expression wasn’t going to happen.

The entry hall went silent as they crossed into the manor. Goosebumps pricked along her skin, Briar shivering in the sudden chill. She didn’t look up at the assembled proxies but she felt their eyes, their surprise, on her. Briar kept her eyes to the floor, following Hoodie as he led her deeper into the manor without a word to his allies. He bypassed the stairs, heading down a hall, and behind them, footsteps followed.

She only looked up when they came to a stop. A generic brown door stood in front of her. Hoodie yanked it open. Releasing her arm, he shoved her back, hard enough to bruise. Crying out, Briar fell into the room, hitting the dirty floor with a pained yelp. A shadow fell over her, and with a click she could feel, gloved hands removed the handcuffs. The shadow straightened again and behind her, the door slammed shut. She twisted to look over her shoulder just in time to hear something lock.

“That takes care of that,” Hoodie said on the other side. “For now.”

“What the hell are you thinking?!” A man shouted. “Why did you bring her here?!”

“You know damn well why I did, Masky,” Hoodie replied. “She’s not going to give us any more problems now. The plan can continue without being interrupted for the third fucking time.”

Briar pushed herself up to her hands and knees, turning to press against the door to listen.

“So you kidnapped her,” the man replied, the anger burning in his voice. “To get her out of the way.”

“We’re not keeping her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoodie said. “She’s not a pet. We teach her a lesson about minding her own business, finish the plan, and let her go. She’s smart. She’ll learn.”

“Hoodie, how are we going to feed her? We barely have enough food for ourselves,” Masky said. “And none of our dungeons are ready for prisoners. The only one with a shower is still wrecked after Toby’s bullshit.”

“I said I’d fix it!” A third, younger male voice said, and Briar winced. “I’ve got the stuff. I just don’t have enough hands.”

“Could’ve said you needed help,” Masky said.

“Easy,” Hoodie warned. “Beastie, Skully, you’re going to help Toby fix the dungeon. Kate, you’re going to get her supplies. Masky, you and I are going grocery shopping - tomorrow. We don’t need to worry about her tonight.”

“Thank the reaper,” a woman, Kate presumably, said in a dry voice.

“We’re just going to leave her in there all night?” Masky said.

“Yeah,” Hoodie said. “She’s a Horror, she’ll manage. Though since you give a shit, you get first dibs.”

“What? No!” Masky said.

“Shut up, I’m being nice. The rest of you have to wait your turns, got it?”

The group beyond the door grumbled, their voices blending together to the point Briar couldn’t understand what they were saying. Their voices joined with their footsteps, fading into the silence that surrounded her. Briar pulled away from the door.

She wasn’t in a big room. Actually, it was probably a large closet. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she listened to the conversation, but looking around revealed very little. A few empty boxes, a pile of rags in the corner, that was it. And it wasn’t any warmer than the entryway had been.

Briar leaned against the door and hugged herself. Her eyes closed. They weren’t going to kill her. They’d let her go but only after they’d ‘taught her a lesson’, a phrase she’d heard before in her life, and it never failed to make her sick to her stomach. A long term stay, long enough to need food, supplies, a bathroom. God, how could she have let herself be captured? What was she going to do?

Still hugging herself, Briar pulled away from the door and paced. Whatever the proxies were going to do to her, it would hurt, and there wasn’t much she could do about it. They wanted revenge - but for what? She’d only seen the proxies in passing outside of skirmishes in and out of the Forest. Had she angered them somehow? They acted like she knew what she was doing the whole time, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to them. She certainly never attacked first, and if she learned about a plan, she wouldn’t try to stop it, she’d try to learn more about it and tell the others.

The others… Briar wiped a hand over her face. The men she loved, and who loved her and each other. Where were they right now? Were they hurt? Were they captured? Were they… dead? No, she wouldn’t think about that, she wouldn’t even consider that. They couldn’t be dead, and they weren’t going to die. They survived the Horrors War, whatever happened, they could survive. And she could survive this ordeal, even if it hurt.

She pressed her forehead against the cold, off white wall. The hardest part would be sleeping, if she could, was allowed, to sleep at all. It’d been months since she last slept alone. There was nothing sexual about it, Horrors cuddled when they slept, a tangle of limbs and breathing under the sheets. Usually it was Jeff, sleeping next to her back to back. Sometimes it was Eyeless Jack, with Jeff or alone with her. Laughing Jack rolled on top of her sometimes in the night, his body as light as a teddy bear. Ben didn’t sleep but he’d let her put her head in his lap while he played his games. And when they could, they’d all pile into her bed at once. And it was nice. It was right.

The tears burned her eyes. There was no one to see them, but she fought them at first. But her body always won. The tears flowed down, hot against her chilled skin. Briar swallowed a sob. She couldn’t let them hear her, she wouldn’t give them that pleasure.

Stumbling towards the pile of rags, Briar collapsed into it, leaning into the corner behind her. She covered her face with both hands, and let herself hurt.

I’ll get out, she comforted herself as she wept in silence. This isn’t my end. I’ll get out.

And if the eyes watching from the darkness judged her for crying, they were quiet about it.

#horrors au #creepypasta #creepypasta au #pruning roses fic #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta hoodie #briar the batter #creepypasta masky #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta toby #pruning roses

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prettylittlehargrove · 4 years

Text

Party Crashers

Request - Here

Summary - Billy and Mayor Clines daughter are in a super secret relationship, but things become a little restless and the truth gets revealed by accident... but not in the best way...

Warnings - Tommy being a bit of a creep lmao, Alcohol consumption, Mentions of underaged drinking, a small mention of drugs

Word Count - 2048 , I finally counted them yay!! x

Authors Notes - This was a hefty one and i’m so sorry it was so late, ive been super preoccupied and I also wanted to make this to the best of my abilities and I hope you enjoy it! x

Everyone in Hawkins knew you. Everyone.

A lot of people would think of this as some popularity dream come true, but in all honesty it was a nightmare. Any hope at a relationship was diminished due to a lack of privacy, even going to the store at the weekend people made a fuss.

“The mayors daughter bought meat? Does she hate animals?” Or “Y/N L/N caught smoking!” And your personal favourite “The Mayors Soon To Be A Grandad”. That was after a certain Harrington got caught making out with you behind his car.

That was another problem with relationships, you were constantly being set up with rich kids who owned islands and beaches. Steve was the most casual relationship you’d had after his parents started to cozy up to your father. Unfortunately that didn’t end on the best of terms, both of you growing apart romantically and only really wanting to keep in sexual contact till you officially broke it off.

But then he came. Sun kissed skin and golden curls, he was the definition of a bad boy. Someone your parents would hate the thought of you dating. Billy Hargrove.

He was the everything you’d been told to walk away from. But instead you walked towards him, and soon enough you’d formed yourself a secret relationship.

Making out in his camaro at midnight, down by an old wreck on the outskirts of town. Fucking in your bed at the dead of night whilst he held your hands. Cuddling up on his sofa whilst you got out of your mind high.

He was a rush of adrenaline in your boring and plain life.

Every event you went to, your mind would wonder to the way his hands felt on your body, or how soft his lips were.

Everything was simply divine.

Tommy pulled a flyer from his bag and waved it around in Billy’s face. “There’s a fancy ass party up at the lakeside mansion, and I’d say we crash it tonight, theres gonna be beer and shit, they probably do drugs too man, all rich people do drugs right?” He blabbed, a sure fantasy made up in his mind about some crazy party going on.

“Sure whatever, but you’re in the shit if there’s no beer k?” He chuckled, flicking his cigarette on the floor. His eyes gazed around the parking lot, trying to scope you out. Usually, he didn’t have that hard a time, your elegant stature and bounce in your step drew obvious attention towards you. Finally he caught sight of the familiar heels that clicked against the concrete.

“Y/L Cline man... fuck if I wasn’t with Carol I’d fucking-“ Billy elbowed him harshly and dragged his eyes to look at the rest of you.

“I gotta go” he mumbled, heading to your usual make out spot, the back of the school, behind the bike shed.

You did the same, waving goodbye to your friends to go ‘do some errand’.

Quietly, you looked around to make sure the coast was clear before heading behind the shed to meet with Billy.

“Heya Princess” he winked, his arms were open as he engulfed you into a strong hug. Squeezing you a little before pulling away. You leaned up on your tip toes and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.

“Can we pretty please hang out tonight? It’s my birthday tmr and I wanna make sure I get to spend as much time with you as I can before I have to go to some shoddy event...” Billy sighed, remembering back to Tommy.

“I wanna so bad princess, but Tommy asked me to do something with him... and I’ve kinda stood him up like 5-6 times already, I’m an asshole but not a jerk” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek one last time.

“Well be safe and don’t get too drunk or high, because I’m not prepared to try and heave a 5,10 brute through my window again... mr muscles..” giving his bicep a quick squeeze. “Oh and before I forget, here’s your lunch... Maxine told me to make something with jam in it” Billy’s face lit up, food being something that always got him in a good mood.

“Thank you angel, and you can call her Max if you want... I only call her Maxine because it pisses her off etc..” His voice lowered a little in embarrassment and slight shame.

“Don’t worry, I tease my younger cousins all the time” you giggled, handing him his sandwich and giving him a tight hug. “See you when I see you, and I’m expecting a birthday kiss tomorrow!” You giggled and headed away from the spot.

9pm headed around the corner as Billy waited outside Tommy’s house.

“Thought your parents were rich as shit, why aren’t you going?” He muttered, lighting a cigarette.

“Not as rich as these fuckers... probably related to royalty or something.. gonna get so wasted tonight” Tommy chuckled. “So we sneak in through the back and head across the hall towards the wine cellar, and then figure it out from there” The plan was stupid enough, let alone Tommy’s fantasy that he was gonna get beyond wasted.

Your mother fussed around the house, dressed in a gown with her hair tied up and prepped. “Y/N! Why aren’t you ready? The party is in an hour and you’re in your dinner wear?” She scolded, heading down the hall, muttering something or other about how irresponsible you were.

In all fairness you’d completely forgot about this party, it was a small celebration by your fathers lake house. A few kids from your old middle school would be there, probably dressed in diamonds and crystals. Private school wasn’t your favourite place in the world...

Quickly, you shoved on a gown from your wardrobe and did it up. Your mother rushed into the room, pulling your arm to take you to her bedroom where she curled your hair and applied some makeup to your face. “Can’t believe you’re wearing this old thing darling... there’s a pink dress in there that I bought especially for this event” she huffed. So you scuttled off down the hall and carefully stripped yourself of the green gown, being aware that you had a full face of makeup and hair was sprayed perfectly into place. The pink dress was pretty and hung perfectly on your frame... a bit flouncy but still beautiful.

Finally you were ready, getting into your fathers car and heading straight for your birthday party thingy.

Billy heaved Tommy up the wall and over into the garden.

Tux on and everything. If he was to say so himself, Billy thought he looked quite handsome, might keep it on and surprise you later.

They both landed on some bush and wiped themselves down, climbing from the foliage.

“There it is, the lake house. These really are some rich fuckers” Tommy smirked, admiring the huge mansion, lit up with classical music coming from it.

“Right, but I don’t see any bear?” A low growl causing Tommy to twiddle his thumbs.

“Eh well maybe there might not be beer, but! There might be... ok truth is these guys have a daughter and I’ve heard that she’s hella hot so I kinda wanna see for myself ya know” Billy rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You have a girlfriend”

“You don’t”

“Yeah I - I don’t” Billy stiffened up, remembering the pinkie promise you’d forced him to make.

“Right so let’s go get you laid, and then you can tell me everything” He smirked, eyebrows wiggling as he pushed Billy towards the house.

“Look man I’m tired”

“Bullshit” he chuckled, pushing him through the doors. The house was indeed grand, marble check floors with beautiful fluffy rugs and a glamorous chandelier hanging in the middle.

“Who the hell owns this place?” Tommy shrugged and dusted off his tux.

“No way... I think there is beer” The mischievous grin played on Tommy’s face as he spied a rather large old man swigging back some liquid.

You sat glumly with Sabrina, she chatted on about how ravish her private school life was and how perfect everything was going, something like that. Your mind wondering to Billy, how he’s probably high as hell right now without you. Everything was boring and dull without him.

“Dude! Let’s check out upstairs” Tommy grabbed Billy’s arm and hauled him up the stairs a long corridor of various doors facing them. A voice started to make its way up the stairs to, quickly Tommy shoved himself and Billy into the first door. They both stumbled and fell into the huge room.

“Holy shit dude... this is the chicks room” Tommy slurred, that clearly wasn’t beer that he was chugging back.

Slowly Billy took in the surroundings. His eyes focusing on a picture on the dresser. Was that him? Then it dawned on him.

Who was rich, had a lake house and was a chick? His girlfriend.

Fuck.

Tommy started to shift through the closet, grabbing a pair of panties and holding them up.

“Woah... she’s foxy” he was hammered.

“Give me those” Billy snatched the panties out of Tommy’s hand.

The voice that had been following them got louder. Quickly Billy grabbed Tommy and pulled him into the other side of the bed, forcing him to duck.

“So this is my daughters room... goodness, it’s quite a mess, I apologise she doesn’t-“ A loud thud cut off your mother’s words. She let out a screech as two teenage boys stumbled from behind the bed. One drunk and laughing, the other looking like a deer in the headlights.

And that very moment led to Billy sat in front of the very Mayor himself, you sat right next to him and Tommy sitting against the wall.

“He’s my boyfriend and I tried to sneak him in” you mumbled, fuddling with your fingers, trying your best to not get Billy into trouble.

“So you snuck him through the window? Look I don’t want to hear it anymore, you can’t see him again, and you boy, if you come near my daughter again I’ll have you out of this town fast” Your father was beyond mad. He looked about ready to kill.

“But dad-“

“She didn’t sneak me in, it’s not her fault, I just wanted to surprise her and I chose the wrong night” billy piped up, looking at the floor.

“Surprise her? Why?”

“Because it’s her birthday tomorrow and we probably wouldn’t have seen eachother on the day because you usually plan stuff out for her... so I came early”

“Without a gift?”

“Dad-“

“I don’t have much money sir but I do have a gift for her”

“What is it?”

“DAD?!” You squeaked, “look I’m tired of this, it doesn’t matter anyway, I love Billy but clearly you only ever care if he’s got money or if he’s some private school kid but I don’t care because he’s amazing and none of that matters” You sternly presented your point. Grabbing Billy’s hand and squeezing it.

“Fine, be with him but don’t expect to come running to me for comfort when he leaves you high and dry, and also if you break my daughters heart-“

“Dad... he gets it” you muttered, looking in Billy’s eyes. A small smile on both of your faces. Quietly your mother stood smiling to herself, rembering when her own father had yelled at her for dating some bad boy, turns out that bad boy became the mayor so jokes on him she chuckled to herself. History sure does repeat itself.

Tommy’s snores came from the back of the room.

“Dipshit wake up” Billy shoved his leg.

“Fuck off” Tommy grumbled, eyes still closed, Carol was gonna kill him.

“Langauge” you scolded both of them, taking Billy into the party again.

“I think we should head to your room” Billy whispered. You gave him a playful smack on the arm.

“We just got told off we can’t do that now-“ Billy held his hand out, a certain pair of lace panties in his palm.

“Why do you have those?!”

“Tommy’s a fucking perv” he grunted, as you both shuffled back into your room.

It was gonna be nice not to have to hide Billy anymore.

#Billy Hargrove #billy x reader #stranger things billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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daybreak-delusion · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina. As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

After the long walk home I took a shower, finally, and went straight to bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day and I was ready for some sleep. Thankfully the next morning I wasn’t awakened by the annoying sound of a lawnmower. I took a shower to clean off my sleep and changed into some shorts and a simple blouse. The one good thing about the humidity is that it was making my normally frizzy curly hair look normal. Back in my room after looking around at my mess, I decided that would be a cleaning day. I put on my headphones and shuffled my cleaning playlist and got to work. I started with my room, unpacking my bags, finally, and organizing my clothes in the closet. Then I moved to the bathroom, cleaning the mirrors, countertops, and disinfecting the shower and toilet with some cleaner I found in the kitchen. I spent three seconds debating whether or not to go into Grandmother’s room and then turned into the living room. I vacuumed, dusted, and disinfected some more. The kitchen was the worst, I kept sneezing from all of the dust when Fernando by ABBA came on. Oh my god, this was my song. I picked up a spoon and pretended to sing to my adoring fans.

“There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!” I was practically screaming by the time the chorus came on, dancing to the beat like a maniac.

“They were shining there for you and me for liberty-”

“Hey, sunshine!” yelled a voice from behind me. Screaming I turned around and saw JJ leaning against the back door frame. He was wearing the same tacky shorts as yesterday and a white t-shirt with some fishing company logo on it.

“How long have you been standing there?” I said, taking off my headphones blush creeping on to my face.

“Not long, I’m here to pick the lemons and just need to get a bag,” explained JJ walking towards the pantry getting a reusable bag out.

“Oh right do you need any help?”

“Oh no I’m good, wouldn't want to cut your little concert short.”

“Ha, ha,” I laughed sarcastically, “be sure to bring them back, I’m thinking of trying Grandmother's lemonade recipe.”

“Really?” he stopped before heading out the door giving me a quizzical look.

“Yeah, I was thinking about making a batch for good measure.”

“Well good luck with that, Vicky was really particular about the way she made her lemonade.”

“Oh, I think I can handle a little lemonade.”

“If you say so, I’ll be in the greenhouse,” he said humming the chorus of Fernando on his way out the door. When he left I shook off my embarrassment and I turned back to dusting the shelves. After a while, I realized how hungry I was. The only food that I’ve had was dinner last night with the Camerons and the only food in the house was some stale saltine crackers and beer, which was kinda concerning but I tried not to look too into it. One thing was for sure, I needed food. Like now. Thankfully just as I was about to try my luck with the saltines, JJ walked back in with a bag full of lemons.

“I only got about 10 this batch but next week we should get about triple,” said JJ walking in through the back door. He placed the bag on the counter and reached into the fridge to grab a beer.

“Thank you, also do you by any chance know of anywhere to eat?”

“Um yeah my friend’s family owns a restaurant, it’s called The Wreck, they got great sandwiches. It’s about two miles into town.”

“Sounds perfect, you want anything?”

“Uh no, no I’m good just tell Kie I said hi,” he said taking a swing of his beer as he walked towards the back door.

“Do you ever drink water?” I asked.

“Not if I can help it sunshine,” he replied with a wink walking out the door.

That boy was going to die of liver failure if he kept his drinking habits up. A problem he’d have to deal with. In the meantime I needed food. That’s how my search for transportation started. No way was I gonna ask for a ride from Rafe and I’m pretty sure JJ just materializes everywhere, so I had to either walk or find another way.

Another thing I was oblivious too when I first arrived was the garage to the left of the house. Hopefully, Grandmother left a bike or even a skateboard for me. I walked the dirt path to the old little garage. It’s kinda how I imagined what the house would have looked like if I’m being honest. It was even more faded yellow then the house with a rusty white painted garage door. Cobwebs were everywhere. I was terrified that I would have to encounter the creatures that made them. I was half expecting the handle to fall off when I pulled the door up. It opened with an ear-piercing screech and a cloud of dust. When I stopped coughing my lungs out I saw it. A vintage yellow Volkswagen beetle with a rack on top for surfboards surrounded by at least 50 cardboard boxes. I just stared at it for a few seconds admiring the car. I’m not exactly an expert on automobiles or whatever, but something about vintage cars really got me going. On the left of the garage was a bulletin board with a couple of keys tacked to it labeled with different things. I found the one that said car and prayed that the thing would start. The outside of the car was covered in dust, but thankfully the inside was a little cleaner. The only problem was that the car was a stick. Now I haven't driven stick in two years. Grandmother always said any person with a brain could drive automatic, but it took a real driver to learn stick. It was a miracle the car started in the first place and all I had to do was pray I remembered how to drive it.

I only stalled a couple of times in the beginning, but eventually got in the grove of changing the gears. As I drove I was hoping I was imagining it but people seemed to be looking at my car as if it were on fire. I’m pretty sure I would know if my car was on fire or not so I kept going. Eventually, I found the little restaurant and pulled into a parking spot. The Wreck was just preparing for rush hour when I walked in. The floor was worn by the many footsteps that had walked into this establishment. The walls were decorated with pictures that looked as old as the restaurant and stickers from different surf shops and fishing companies. What I noticed most of all was the salty and intoxicating smell of freshly made french fries. I was practically salivating when a girl about my age approached me.

“Welcome to The Wreck, what can I get for you,” she said with a tired, but genuine smile. She had her dark curly hair tied up in a messy bun with an old gray headband keeping her flyaways out of her face and was wearing a dark green bikini top under her tank top with the logo of the restaurant on it.

“Hi, I hear you guys got great sandwiches,” I replied. If my instincts were correct this girl was Kie, JJ’s friend.

“Yeah, we got tuna, turkey, roast beef, and our specialty lobster.”

“Do you actually have any vegetarian options?”

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian? So am I!” she said with a little more energy in her voice.

“Yeah have been for the past two years.”

“Wow I started about three years ago and am trying to make the switch to veganism.”

“Good for you!”

“Thank you! Most of my friends make fun of me for it, but I just can't stand the thought of eating a living creature. Anyways just one vegetarian sandwich?”

“Yes please and some fries as well, also I’m sorry if this is too weird to ask , but are you Kie by any chance?”

“Uhh yeah how did you know that?” she replied giving me a look that said, “who is this weirdo and how does she know my name?”

“Okay cool, I’m Whitney and your friend JJ works… I mean worked for my grandmother.”

“Oh my god, no way your Vicky’s granddaughter of course!” she said the look she was giving me melting into a smile,” I knew I recognized your car from somewhere, your grandma would come in here every Sunday for brunch, there gotta be a picture of her on the wall if you wanna look. She was such a sweet lady. JJ mentioned that you were in town I don’t know why I didn’t put that together and you had dinner with Sarah’s family yesterday right?”

“Yeah I did, she has an interesting family.”

“God tell me about it, her brother is a piece of work.”

It seemed like everyone had some kind of beef with Rafe.

“I had to spend the afternoon with him yesterday and it was excruciating. Thankfully JJ saved me.”

“He saved you? Usually he’s the one to get people in trouble.”

“Yeah I heard something like that, but so far he’s proven his usefulness.”

“Well I’m glad he hasn't screwed you over yet,” she said noticing the lunch rush was about to start, “So just the sandwich and fries?”

“Yeah and just whatever JJ usually gets, he’s over working right now and I figure I’d get him something to consume that wasn't a cheap beer and make it to go please.”

“Alrighty then a vegetarian sandwich with a side of fries and a The Barrel Roll Burger coming right up. That’ll be $15.25.”

I pulled out a twenty and put the change into the jar when she was looking the other way. While a man, who I assumed was Kie’s father, was making my order I looked at all of the old photographs and stickers on the wall. I failed to find any of Grandmother but a newer looking polaroid stood out to me. It was of a group of teenagers sitting around a table in the restaurant. I recognized Kie, Sarah, and JJ with two other handsome looking boys. Geez what was in the water on this island, everyone seemed to be incredibly attractive. JJ was shoving some sort of food in Kie’s face while Sarah and one of the boys were pretending to make out, I assumed it was her boyfriend John B, while the other boy just looked straight into the camera like he was on The Office or something. They all looked happy and seemed to be enjoying their afternoon. I couldn't help but notice how close Kie and JJ were and a twinge of jealousy sparked in my stomach.

“Order up Whitney!” called Kie with a brown bag in her hand.

“Thank you!” I replied, “You have no idea how hungry I am.”

“Well come by anytime, we got the best food on the island,” she said with a smile.

“I sure will, thanks again!” I said walking out the door and towards my car.

a/n: So yeah apparently Whitney gets turned on by cars. Anyways thank you so much for reading! I absolutely LOVE writing and although sometimes it gets frustrating or I start to doubt wether I should continue or not I just keep going because I love it. Next chapter will be up Wednesday so stay tuned! Thanks again!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x original character #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fandom #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fandom #obx #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fic slow burn #slow burn

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the-weeping-author · 4 years

Text

Hate To Love Chapter 7

A/N: thanks for putting up with my bi-polar posting 😂😂 I hope y’all have liked this series so far I had it set in my mind where I wanted to go but I did a whole 360 so please bear with me.

Warnings: cussing, angst, underage drinking, asshole king Steve.

Word count: 2,809

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @theworldisugly-22 @harringtown @phoebethepheebs @bvrningdesires @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @harrington-ofhawkins @thenameishayley248 @ghostineleven @pappydaddy @simplesammyx

Please enjoy 😊

Jonathan and I haven’t talked in a week, my mom and the chief of police have been doing their own thing to get Will back.

something made the chief believe my mom about the whole Will being alive situation, I was happy she had help. As for me I stayed grounded. I hadn’t seen Nancy much since she slapped me.

I was hanging out with some friends from school when I saw Steve walk over to us.

“Hey Sara, can I talk to you for a second?”

I looked at my friends, excused myself. When Steve and I got away from ear distance I turned towards him.

“What do you want harrington?”

He looked at me smiling.

“So there’s this party going on next Saturday, I wanted to know if you wanted to come?”

I raised a brow at him stuffing my hands into my pocket.

“Don’t you want your girlfriend to go with you?”

He looked at me shaking his head.

“Eh we really aren’t talking right now, she’s been blowing me off for your brother.”

I raised a brow at him, biting my lip looking down at the ground.

“Yeah, but that’s usually what happens when you're a dick.”

He let out a slight laugh mocking my stance putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah but I’m your dick I mean we’ve been friends since middle school.”

I slightly smiled at him bringing up how long we’ve been friends, but that was the past. It was different now.

“Yeah we were until you met Tommy H and Carol.”

He looked at me then kinda got a cold look on his face.

“Yeah well that’s all about to end soon.”

*Time skip*

Steve stayed true to what he said, we hung out all weekend. In the woods, or at the lake, even at the movies, but mainly Just whatever we could do.

When I walked into the school Monday expecting to see Steve waiting at my locker, but instead I saw him all cozied back up with Nancy, I felt betrayed, I felt abandoned, but worse of all I felt stupid.

I let him in, I knocked down the walls I had built up against him just to prove why I put them up in the first place.

Hot tears clouded my vision, I just walked past Steve and Nancy. I walked into the bathroom rushing into a stall. I quickly locked it, and started to wiped my eyes.

I thought to myself while looking down at my hands.

“Sara, you should have known better you idiot. I mean come on he’s Steve Harrington and your just Sara Byers, you’d never be a nancy wheeler you’d never be somebody.”

I gripped my hair, bit my lip. I felt like screaming. I wanted to hit Steve, I wanted to go home, never come out of the house ever again.

Before I walked out the girls bathroom I looked at my face, you could tell I was crying, but honestly I didn’t care. I hope he knew he hurt me.

I was probably being over dramatic but I’m an over dramatic teenager. It's what I did best, I went to my locker opening it grabbing some stuff I needed out of it when the back of my neck started tingling.

I knew he was coming towards me, I braced myself to put on the best act I could. I knew I had to tell him we couldn’t be friends and we weren’t.

“Hey Sara, Are you okay have you been crying?”

I turned to look at him, anger boiled inside me. my mother told me if I got in trouble one more time she was going to my car, that couldn’t happen.

“That doesn’t matter Steve so don’t worry about it.”

His once smile was cold, he grabbed my shoulder.

“Sara it does matter, if it upset you to the point you cried then it matters.”

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, then walked away from him.

Throughout the rest of the day I saw Steve everywhere I went, I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice but I couldn’t bear to be around him.

After school was just as bad, but this time he was standing at my car. I sighed walking up to him.

“What do you want Steve?”

He looked at me, he was hurt. I could see it in his eyes.

“Sara I want to know why you keep avoiding me.”

I shook my head at him grabbing my keys from my bag.

“Steve I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shook his head at me standing up straight.

“Bullshit Sara, you know you’ve been avoiding me so don’t even give me that crap.”

I raised a brow at him, I tuned him out, just looking at the way his face

“Steve I said it was nothing okay so just drop it.”

I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead of saying something he just walked off, I felt bad for lying, but I couldn't face him. My mother was right, so was jonathan.

After I drove home I didn’t say anything to anyone. I went straight to my room, my mom knocked softly on my bedroom door.

“Sara baby are you okay?”

I looked towards the door, I buried my face into my pillow. She opened the door slowly, I would have thought she gave up until I felt my bed sink in a little. She put her hand on the lower part of my back, she started rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Sara now if you were your brother and you didn’t answer I would have just shrugged it off, but you’re my little social butterfly. So what's wrong?”

I lifted my head up from the pillow, I was sure I looked like a wreck. I mean I was in love with steve harrington, he didn’t love me back. I was destroyed, my mom knew it just as well as I did.

“Steve doesn’t lo-like me back mom.”

My mother arched a brow at me.

“Wait isn’t he with Nancy wheeler?”

I looked at her scoffing.

“Barley he doesn’t see that she's chasing after Jonathan, he doesn’t even see me chasing after him.”

She smiled at me while I wiped at my face. I looked at my mom, she had a certain look in her eyes I couldn't describe.

“Well honey you can’t do anything he's with nancy?”

I looked at my mom, I smiled up at her.

“When he and Nancy are fighting he acts like he likes me but then the next day him, Nancy are back together.”

She sighed, shook her head.

“Honey look if you like him and he likes you he shouldn’t be with the wheeler girl, but guys are just confusing in general.”

I looked at her, rolled my eyes.

“Mom I already know that, but I can’t just show up to a party and kiss Steve.”

She sighed, shaking her head at me.

“Come on Sara you’re a bright girl, you should know what I mean. I’m saying show up, show him what he’s missing out on.”

*Another Time skip*

It was the night of the party, I thought about it for a moment but then decided to go for it. After my mom’s heart to heart a week ago I played out the scenarios in my mind, they all made me look bad.

When I got home I did my homework, jumped in the shower. After I got done showering I blow dried my hair. I walked into my room, locked the door. I put a matching set of underwear on then I sat on the edge of my bed trying to compose myself.

After I recollected myself I went to my closet grabbing a black flower dress slipping it on, it fit my body beautifully. I ran my arm across the black flower lace pattern, I slid my black pantyhose up my legs. I had the bottom half of my outfit done besides shoes. So I decided to work on my hair, it was going to take the longest so I plugged in my curling iron, waited for it to heat up.

I noticed the dress looked kinda just there so I walked back over grabbing my denim jacket, a black leather jacket holding them up to the dress. The denim added color and made myself look soft, but the leather jacket looked great, it looked edgy along with sexy. So I decided on the leather jacket, I looked at my shoes trying to decide which would be perfect.

There were a lot of hard choices but I decided on some black heels, the heel on the shoe was thick so if I had to run I didn’t have to worry about the heel breaking. I walked over to my white vanity, I took a deep breath then started curling my hair. After it was done I picked a comb and started to tease my hair. After I finished my arms were exhausted, but I had to admire my work. It was the best I have ever done with my hair.

I took a few bobby pins from the pack then flipped my puffy teased hair to one side then I put the bobby pins in my hair to keep it down. My final product for my hair was Farrah Fossett hair spray, after I sprayed it to my liking I put the hairspray on my vanity then grabbed some red lipstick like Madonna would wear then put it on my lips. I looked hot like always but I knew I was going to get Steve's attention tonight and that was my overall plan.

I grabbed my jacket, walked out of my bedroom. I decided to walk because I knew I’d be drinking tonight, I didn’t want to leave my car at whoever’s house.

When I got to the house party my first intuition was to turn around, but I didn't. I took a deep breath then walked into the house, I had already caught a few lingering stares. I saw Steve along with Nancy at the kitchen doorway, I decided to walk to the drink table.

I felt both of their eyes on me, but I didn’t even acknowledge them. It wasn’t until I felt a soft tap on my shoulder that made me look at whoever was trying to get my attention, When I turned around I was face to face with nancy.

“Hey Sara.”

I smiled at Nancy, I took a sip of my drink which burned going down. There was nothing like cheap alcohol to get your shoulders too loosen up.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

I nodded at her, let her lead the way. After we walked out back she turned towards me.

“I just want to say sorry about everything you know slapping you, not letting you explain yourself, Steve told me everything.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her drinking more of my drink.

“Did he now?”

She nodded at my question, she took a big drink of her drink.

“Yeah he did, but I just wanted to say I was sorry and that I hope we can be friends again like old times.”

I looked at her, started messing with my ear ring.

“Uh honestly Nancy it’s going to take time, not because I’m upset or anything cause If I wanted to I could have put you on your ass but at this point I just want to move past it.”

She looked at me, I felt eyes on us. I looked behind me, and saw Steve staring right at me. I rolled my eyes then looked back at Nancy.

“Well if that’s all, I’ll be going now.”

She nodded looking down at her feet then back up at me.

“Oh Sara by the way you look great tonight.”

I stopped mid walk, I turned my head towards her a smirk plastered on my face.

“I know.”

With that I walked back inside. That conversation made me forget just how much the alcohol burned going down, by the time I went back inside I was refilling my cup.

Steve was watching me intently, when a guy tapped me on my shoulder I saw Steve tense up.

“Uh hey Sara.. d-do you wanna dance?”

I looked at the boy in front of me, I looked at Steve then shrugged.

“Sure why not.”

I tugged the boy to the dance floor with me, What about love by heart played over the speakers. I personally loved that song. It was so amazing, it fit in my current life situation.

I was slow dancing with the boy, I knew Steve was watching us dance. Apparently something went down between Steve and Nancy because she was leaving my brother.

After I got done dancing I walked back over to the drink table pouring myself another glass of whatever it was that was getting me drunk.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, I internally rolled my eyes. My eyes kinda went wide when I saw Steve harrington standing in front of me.

“Sara, can we talk please?”

I looked at him, my eyes narrowed.

“Oh now you wanna talk to me because miss priss isn’t here?”

“Whatever, just forget it .”

He rolled his eyes then grabbed his jacket, headed out the front door.

I don’t know what came over me, but next thing I knew I was walking after him.

“Hey Harrington.”

Nothing.

“Hello harrington? I’m talking to you.”

Again nothing, at this point I was getting pissed off so I grabbed him by his arm and yanked him to face me.

“Hey dip shit I’m talking to you, can’t you hear me or should we add that to the list of problems you have?”

Steve was seething, I knew he was, but I didn’t care. I was tired of his cat and mouse games.

“Sara what the fuck is your problem?”

I looked at him, and the alcohol was pumping through my veins.

“You are, you’re my fucking problem you walk around here like you can just play anyone, they will be okay with you hurting them. You and your flock of idiots have hurt me enough I’m done taking shit from all of you.”

He listened to me while I was chewing him out, but that didn’t last long.

“Oh So I’m basically leading people on?”

“Yes, yes you are.”

He looked at me, he took a step closer.

“What about you, showing up to the party dressed like that, then you throw yourself at guys. That seems pretty desperate to me.”

His words hurt, I wasn’t going to let him stand here and hurt my feelings.

“Desperate? The only thing I’ve ever done that was desperate was trying to get you to notice me.”

He was speechless for a second, but then something set him off.

“You know what Sara I didn’t tell you to chase me you chose to I’m not doing anything to you. You’re doing it to yourself.”

I looked at him, and the fire in my chest flared up at his words.

“Because you keep acting like you’re interested in me I mean one minute you’re talking to me like you couldn’t imagine a world without me, but then the next day you act like I don’t exist. you’re shallow Steve Harrington, you’re pathetic.”

I could tell my words hurt him, I immediately regretted what I said because I didn’t mean it.

“Sara no matter how hard you try and how much weight you’ll lose you’ll always be that sad insecure fat girl.”

As soon as those words left his mouth my hand met his face, I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me, but I loved him too much to hurt him anymore than I already did. So I turned around, just walked away from him.

He was shouting my name, but I didn’t give in, and I wouldn’t give in. Not this time He needed to sleep off whatever happened. I cried the whole way back home, when I reached my house it was a little over 2 AM, it was quiet. Everyone was asleep, I let out a sigh of relief. I walked down the hall to my bedroom. I opened the door then shut it behind me.

After I took my makeup off, let down my hair I kicked my shoes off then climbed into bed. I cried myself to sleep, Steve made me feel ugly, and fat. If a guy said that to any girl that would be it, but I couldn’t just let Steve go because I was deeply in love with him.

A/N: thank you guys so much for taking your time and reading my stories. It really means the world to me I’m sorry if this chapter kinda seems all over the place. If it does it’s cause it is because this chapter gave me a hard time mores coming so keep a look out.

#steve harrington au #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x imagine #stranger thinge x oc #stranger things series #steve harrington series #steve harrionton x sara byers #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years

Text

Another self-indulgent fan-fic, this time with Blob and Pyro drinking, fighting, talking, and bonding over bullying a teenager.

This was an attempt to give Blob a little more depth beyond just the crass asshole of the Brotherhood, and show that he’s got some feelings, too. I also wanted to deal with some stuff with Pyro that Marauders hasn’t really gotten into, especially his death and relationship with the rest of the Brotherhood. There’s also some discussion of Pyro/Avalanche. I will forever headcanon original Pyro as a closeted gay man, who had a kind of undefined friends with benefits thing going on with Avalanche (I don’t care how many fantasy Jean Greys he kisses in Marauders), and who still feels uncomfortable being open about it, even if attitudes have changed somewhat.

Warnings for - Very nasty language, some body-shaming from Pyro, some discussion of homophobia. Blob says some things that maybe aren’t quite homophobic, but kind of insensitive. Behind a read-more, because it wound up being long.

Pyro was absolutely not nervous when he knocked on the door of the small habitat building nestled just at the edge of the Krakoan jungle. It was a nice spot, with one window offering a view of the beach, but the trees providing a bit of protection from tropical storms. There was a little garden plot to one side, so neatly and delicately arranged that he wondered if the man he was there to see had a tidier room-mate.

He wasn’t nervous. And he hadn’t been putting this off, he’d just been busy. He’d fallen in with a whole new team, after all, who had accepted him with a surprising amount of tolerance, and he was spending most of his time having high-seas adventures. Not much time on Krakoa itself, to drop in on an old….friend? Acquaintance? Former team-mate who could snap his spine in half if he happened to be in a foul mood? Pyro wasn’t sure exactly where he stood with any of them now. But he wasn’t nervous. Sod that.

The door swung open, the view inside immediately blocked by the massive fleshy mountain that was Frederick J. Dukes, the immovable object.

“Hey Fred. I brought booze.” Pyro held up the wine bottle like a peace offering between them. It was entirely possible he was about to get his face bashed in, or possibly smother to death under Blob’s sizable buttocks. And sure, he’d get resurrected, but he wasn’t keen to go through all that unpleasantness.

“Aww, hey matchstick! Get in here!” Blob grinned and swung an arm around him, practically clobbering him forward into the living room. “Where ya been?”

“Um….dead, mostly. Yah know,” Pyro quipped, not willing to admit to the relief that was flooding into his chest. Because he hadn’t been nervous. He had just been…curious….to see where he stood with the mutants who had been his team-mates for years. Just wanted to catch up and see how they were.

(To see if they all hated him.)

“Haw, haw, yeah, don’t I know it. You shoulda seen Avalanche cryin’ into his beer over that,” Blob guffawed, pulling him in close and hugging him against his side. Pyro could smell body odor and coconut oil.

“He cried, huh?” He murmured, his mouth muffled against pillowy flesh.

“Blubbered like a damn baby.” Fred released him so that he could step back and gasp air.

“What’d you do to your face, man? You going emo on me, now? C’mon, buck up. You only died the one time. Not like those X-Men, they got a whole revolving door thing going.”

“It’s not emo,” Pyro protested, running his hand over the skull tattoo covering most of his face. “It’s ‘cause I’m a pirate. I’m runnin’ round with the Marauders. We’re wrecking ships and stealing supplies, it’s a blast.”

Blob scoffed. “You’re running around with X-Men, matchstick. You’re basically an X-Man, now.”

“The hell I am!” Now Pyro really felt insulted. “I’m not wearing an X anywhere. We’re the Marauders, not the X-Marauders or whatever. We’re pirates, doin’ pirate things! Like fighting the military and helping mutant kids get to Krakoa – “ Except that wasn’t exactly what pirates did, was it? That was more of a hero-type deal. “-and sinking ships –“ and delivering medicine to people that needed it around that globe, but Pyro wasn’t going to mention that. Even if it did give him a bit of a warm glow in his chest to be helping the sick and desperate. He knew what it was like to be sick and desperate.

“Everyone on that ship is a goody-two shoes X-Man!” Blob sneered. “Storm, that phasing girl, Ice-nerd.”

“Bishop’s pretty cool,” Pyro felt the need to interject. The man could fight, and he respected that. He was also extremely good looking, something Pyro tried to not notice.

“Still an X-Man. You’re one a them now. I shoulda expected it after the way you died.” Blob stepped back from him, shaking his head. And oh, there it was. ��

It didn’t seem quite fair. Pyro couldn’t even remember what he’d done. What he’d been thinking at the time.

“I mean….does it really matter?” He tried. “We’re all one big happy mutant family on Krakoa now. Xavier and Magneto getting all chummy. Seems like the X-Men and the Brotherhood don’t even exist anymore.”

“Seems ta me like there’s a bunch of X-Teams and no Brotherhood. They split up all us nasty “bad” mutants and stuck them on teams with the wussy good guys ta keep us in line. Except when they need their dirty work done, then they’ll send out those of us with criminal records. I dunno who’s really running the show on Krakoa, but it ain’t the Brotherhood.” Blob slumped down on his sofa, but gestured to Pyro to sit in one of the chairs. At least he wasn’t being thrown out.

“Guess you might be right there,” he mused, tossing himself down sideways across the chair, both legs hanging over one arm. The X-Men were in an awful lot of positions of power, even with the attempts to balance the Council. And they seemed to dominate most of the island’s strike teams.

“I guess there are more of them than there are of us.”

“Guess running a school for mutant kids is better recruitment strategy than a creepy dude in a metal helmet that’ll throw his own people under the bus in a heartbeat. Did I ever tell ya about how he chucked an explosive at me? And that was back he was tryin’ to recruit me!”

“Many times, Freddie,” Pyro was a little relieved that the conversation was meandering away from his own status – X-Man, Brotherhood member, Krakoan or whatever the hell he now was. He wasn’t sure himself.

“Wine?” He held out the bottle again. Blob swiped it and held it up between two fingers with another guffaw.

“What is this, matchstick, booze for ants? That ain’t gonna be thimbleful for me.”

“Oh, but this is a very special bottle, Freddie.” Pyro took the bottle back. “Have ya got a bucket? I’m gonna be like Christ with the loaves and fishes here.”

“Doncha mean water into wine? That was one of the miracles, right?” Blob came back with a massive stew pot.

“Yeah, but there’s no water involved here. Watch and marvel!” He upended the bottle with a dramatic flourish. Moments later, Blob’s mouth dropped open as the stew pot was half-way filled, and the bottle showed no signs of emptying.

“Ain’t that a hell of a trick. What’s the deal, Aussie? Some kind of mystical Outback dream-time thing?”

“Nah, just a bribe from a wizard. Bottomless bottle. Never runs out.” Technically, Dr. Strange had offered the gift as a gesture to the entire island. But technically didn’t matter, because Strange had given the bottle directly to him, which meant it was basically his. He certainly wasn’t going to hand it over to the Council to use in their fancy-pants secret meetings. Better to keep it among the people, right? Pyro was willing to share. A bit.

“Well, tell Harry Potter thanks. That’s one hell of a gift.”

“Who?”

“C’mon, don’t fuck with me. You haven’t been dead that long.”

“True,” Pyro grinned. But being dead was certainly a convenient excuse for bowing out of whatever must-see pop culture phenomenon he was supposed to be familiar with. “Sorry mate, I was dead at the time,” usually shut people up.

Blob took the full bucket, downed half in one gulp, and held it out again for more. Pyro took a moment to fill his own glass to the brim before pouring again.

“Damn, that’s good stuff. Usually bulk wine is pretty crappy.” Fred licked his lips in appreciation.

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” Pyro shrugged. He’d gotten invited to a few fancy parties, way back in the day when he was journalist/writer St. John Allerdyce and “Pyro” didn’t exist. But it hadn’t exactly refined his palate. He’d rather have a full goon bag to himself than a dainty little glass of something aged and expensive.

“Well, we can’t all be sophisticated gourmets,” Blob said airily, swirling the wine around and giving it a sniff. “French grapes, I’d say. Black currant, acai, cherry, and just a hint of chocolate. Probably a ’78 or ’79.” He proceeded to down half the stew-pot again.

“Freddie me lad, you are absolutely full of shit.” Pyro obligingly poured a refill. Maybe he should get some kind of stand for the bottle, or he’d be doing this all night.

“I aim to be full of wine, so keep pouring, toothpick,” Blob laughed. They lapsed into a moment of comfortable silence while Pyro finally had a chance to drain his own glass.

“So how’s it feel to be back in the land of the living?” Blob ventured. “Ya know they cured that Virus just a few months after you croaked. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

“I wasn’t gonna last a few months at that point. I wasn’t gonna last even a few days, so…whatever.” Pyro shrugged. He still couldn’t remember the moment of his death, but he remembered some of the time leading up to it, feeling incredibly frail, and wondering every night if he would wake up in the morning. Is it gonna be tonight? Today? Will I just drop dead trying to walk down the street? Even if some miracle cure had appeared, he suspected he would have been too far gone at that point.

“It’s just good to be healthy again,” he added. And wasn’t that the truth. Just walking around, breathing the ocean air freely and without pain had been heavenly. He’d made it a point to get laid the first time the Marauders spent the night in Taipei – hadn’t seen any of that action for months before his death. He didn’t want to touch anyone after the diagnosis (he was a selfish bastard, but not so selfish as to potentially spread the disease), and pretty soon pain and fatigue had meant his cock was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah, I bet. Ya made a real spectacular flame-out at the end, there,” Blob said, and there was something left hanging in the air at the end of that sentence. What Pyro might have called a “pregnant pause,” in one of his novels. He gulped down another large swallow of wine.

“Yeah that was….I dunno. I dunno what I was thinking, exactly.” He hadn’t been able to believe it when Mystique showed him the headlines. Sure he’d tried to help her save her shitty racist spawn Graydon Creed (a spectacular failure, thanks to X-Factor), but it had still been him playing Follow the Leader, trusting Mystique to know the right thing to do. Apparently he’d made that final decision completely on his own – turning on his comrades to save the man they’d once tried to assassinate. He didn’t like to look at the articles – all splashed with that one famous picture of Kelly cradling his dead body. It made him feel sick to look at it.

Blob just grunted in response, and the silence became uncomfortable. Pyro sighed.

“All right, you want me to say it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry for turning on you guys. I can’t say I’m sorry for protecting Kelly. I guess I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, and I’ll stand by that. But I’m sorry for going against you guys. And especially for killing Post.” Blob snorted, but held the stewpot out for more wine.

“You were gettin’ real soft near the end there, toothpick. Can’t completely blame ya, I guess. You were starin’ death right in the face, and Legacy was probably eating away at your brain. Avalanche said you seemed half-delirious near the end, whenever he went to see ya.”

“Maybe I was.” Time had gotten fuzzy back then – long patches of confused dream-like haze, punctuated by sharp, painful clarity. Dominic would be there one moment and gone the next, conversations evaporating mid-sentence. He’d lay down for a moment in the morning and wake up in the evening two days later.

“It was just all starting to seem a bit pointless, ya know?” He continued after another swig of wine. “All that violence….well, I won’t deny it was fun. I don’t need an excuse to start a fight. But it was also for a cause, right? And things just kept getting worse no matter what we did. I guess I just thought….if I could change the guy’s mind, maybe things would be different.”

“Well, ya did change his mind, I’ll give you that. Too bad he got himself killed right after that,” Fred smirked.

“Yeah. That’s the real kick in the teeth. More than dying before the cure, really. Bloody pointless.” Pyro poured again.

“I reckon everyone was pissed at me, yeah?” At least the wine was giving him the courage to ask certain questions.

“Heh, yer lucky you croaked when ya did, really.” Blob grinned. It was not a nice grin. “I woulda snapped you in half for Post, invalid or no. Lady Mastermind wasn’t real pleased, either. But you ain’t really here to ask about how I felt, are ya? You wanna know whether yer boyfriend is pissed at ya.”

Pyro was suddenly sitting up very straight, tension running up and down his spine.

“The fuck did you say?” he snapped.

“Oh, come off it, man. Don’t act like I’m stupid! I know you had this whole ‘don’t ask, don’t tell thing’ going on back in the day, but I figured it out. We all did.”

“I don’t know what you’re blathering on about, mate,” Pyro said, each word coldly annunciated. The tension from his spine was spooling tight in his mid-section. “You’ve been watching too many soap operas.”

“You’re the one that watches that crap, matchstick. I gotta listen to you talk about ‘Home and Away’ every time you get smashed. But don’t change the fucking subject.”

“What subject? Some made-up bullshit you imagined in your head?” Pyro’s hands were clenched tight around the glass. Some logical part of his mind wondered why he was even making a fuss about this. Times had changed a great deal in the years that he’d been floating in a void of nonexistence. Iceman was openly gay, Mystique referred to Destiny as her wife, and no one batted an eye.

But still. When Pyro was growing up, you didn’t say it. You didn’t dare say it, because it would it ruin you, at best, and possibly get you killed, at worst. It had been something he’d kept locked up tight in his chest, even when he was boldly and proudly “coming out” as a mutant. And what he’d shared with Dominic over the years, secret little intimate moments slipped under the surface of their public friendship, had always rested on a foundation of silence. They didn’t talk about what they did. Didn’t even really acknowledge it to each other or try to define it. It was their own special, private thing, and it was meant to remain unspoken.

And now, here was Fred J. Dukes putting his fat, clumsy, grubby hands all over it, like a toddler smearing chocolate on a cashmere sweater.

“Quit bein’ so stubborn about it,” Blob continued. “Ya think I’m stupid, that I couldn’t figure it out? You guys were always slipping off together, locking your door. Fuck man, I heard you two dumbshits in the shower together a couple of times when we were doing that Freedom Force thing. My room was right next door, you know. Haw!” His laughter was an ugly sound.

“What, were you getting off on it?” Pyro snarled. “Were you alone in your room jerking it to us, you fat fuck? Probably the only action you ever see, ain’t it? Assuming you can even find your dick.” He paused, suddenly wishing he could hook the words back into his mouth, because he’d basically just admitted to it, hadn’t he? But he didn’t think he could stop now if he tried, with the anger burning in his chest, a familiar, almost comforting heat.

“No, I was just sick of you both lying about it. Pretending it wasn’t happening, and making the rest of us pretend, too! Acting like we’re all idiots!” Blob was on his feet now, red-faced.

“Well, you never made that very hard, did ya, Freddie?”

“Ya know what?” And Blob had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder with one meaty hand. “I’m tired of your bullshit!” Then Pyro found himself flung across the room, smashing into the wall and knocking crockery down to shatter on the floor. Maybe he was going to get his spine snapped after all – but the way he felt at the moment he didn’t much care.

“You always act so superior, like you’re sooooo much smarter than me. What, just ‘cause you wrote some crappy books to help lonely women get their panties all moist?! ”

“At least I know how to write. Least I can get a woman wet,” Pyro quipped, while trying to climb to his feet. Hell, Blob had just handed him that one, hadn’t he? There was a blur at the edge of his vision, and suddenly Blob had grabbed the front of his shirt and tossed him again.

“You ain’t smarter than me!” Pyro could hear Blob bellowing through the ringing in his ears. “You and Avalanche always acted like you were better than ol’ Fred Dukes, gangin’ up on me all the time. Well, I danced on both of your graves, didn’t I? I’m glad you died like you did. Mr. Smart Fancy-pants, wasting away to nothing. It was funny!” Blob was towering over him, fists clenched. Pyro raised his wrist and sent a jet of flame up at the man, mentally intensifying it enough to hurt as he darted for the door.

“Augh! Pyro, you asshole,” Blob roared, slapping at the flames on his clothing. They’d keep right on burning if Pyro wanted them to, and he had half a mind to let them. Why not have a pig roast right there on the beach? But in another moment he shook his head and let the fire gutter out. Perhaps a mistake, as Fred charged out through the door.

“Don’t think you’re getting away, you skinny little fucker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Freddie, just getting myself a little more room,” Pyro said through clenched teeth. “Go ahead and come at me if ya wanna get burned again.”

Apparently Blob did wanna get burned again, because he ran at Pyro, arm raised to swing. Pyro shot out another blast of fire at Dukes as he dove out of his path. Blob tried to duck, but it was hard dodge fire that Pyro could mentally send wherever he pleased. That was one advantage he’d always enjoyed over the fire-producing mutants. This time it singed Blob’s eyebrows and licked at his shoulders. Blob howled.

“Cut that shit out!”

“What, so you can hit me again? Ya know, this is why no one likes you, Blob! You’re always flying off the handle. Gotta turn everything into some big fight. I was tryin’ ta be friendly, coming here- “

“Bullshit! You didn’t come here for me, you came here for news. You wanted to know if your boyfriend hated ya after what you did. You only came to me because I’m the only one here who was with the group when it all went down. The only one let alive, anyway.”

“I came to you ‘cause I wanted to drink with ya, Blob. And you started acting like a dick, like ya always do!” Pyro protested, although he couldn’t quite suppress a guilty twinge. Blob wasn’t entirely wrong…and if Avalanche was alive again, it probably would have taken him even longer to get around to visiting Dukes.

“You’re the one who started getting all hot under the collar when I was just tryin’ ta talk to ya! But I ain’t surprised, I know where I rate! None of you assholes give a shit about me!” Blob charged again. Pyro sent more fire swirling towards him.

“You wanna keep getting singed, Freddie, I could do this all da – oof!” Pyro grunted as Blob ran right through the fire and slammed into him, shoulder first, knocking him back into the well-tended vegetable garden.

“Pyro, you jerk, I worked on that for weeks!”

“Ya knocked me right into it, ya stupid wanker!” Pyro jumped to his feet, brushing ruined squash and pumpkin off his uniform. “I’ve been pulling punches, but if you come at me again, I will absolutely barbeque you, you fat piece of shit. Then you can wait in line for resurrection behind all the people that actually deserve to be alive and breathing right now!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me gone, and you all alone with your precious Dominic and your new X-Men friends. I know you wouldn’t miss me. Nobody would! Ya know I tried to kill myself, back when I lost my powers? And who was there for me? No one, that’s who!”

“….ya tried to kill yourself?” Pyro paused for a moment. Dropping his guard was a mistake, as Blob charged again and belly-slammed him several feet away. It might have done some damage if he hit a tree, but luckily he just rolled on the soft sand.

“Freddie, wait, what’s this about – “

“It was a fucking nightmare. I had huge folds of skin hanging off my body. I looked like….like melted wax or something. Couldn’t go out. Couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. It hurt just to move. I tried…tried to cut my own throat, and I couldn’t even get through the skin. And none of the Brotherhood lifted a goddamn finger to help me! You had Dominic holdin’ your hand and cryin’ over ya, ya think anyone spared a thought for me?!”

Pyro clambered to his feet, feeling uncomfortable. Angry Blob he was used to. People called Pyro a hothead (and maybe it was just a little bit true), but anger seemed to constantly run under the surface with Fred, coloring every interaction – snide remarks during briefings, playful banter quickly turning into explosive outbursts, laughter that always had a cruel undertone, always at someone else’s expense. But this was new. Fred’s voice was shaky, threatening to crack.

“Freddie, are ya serious? Look mate, I didn’t know. I was – “ Dead, he was about to say. But they were interrupted as a sudden telekinetic force lifted Pyro off his feet, leaving him flailing uselessly in the air.

“The fuck?” Blob slurred. Something was tugging at him, a psychic force attempting to lift him skyward. Attempting, and failing, as he remained solidly on the ground.

“Haw! Who’s tryin’ ta lift me?” he laughed, digging his feet into the sand for good measure. “Ya must be really stupid, whoever you are!”

The pressure around Blob increased, and the sand at his feet flattened as Blob pushed down with his personal gravity field.

“Keep tryin’, Chuckles! That tickles!” Blob yelled.

“Hey, whoever you are? You wanna put me the hell down?” Pyro called out, from a good six feet in the air. “Unless you wanna see me blow chunks all over this beautiful beach.” He’d been tipped partially upside-down, which was really not helping his drunken nausea.

“All right, that’s enough, lad. We’re just here to break it up, and it’s broken up.” Banshee stepped out of the jungle, accompanied by a scowling boy with pink hair that Pyro didn’t recognize.

“Aww, are you the one tryin’ ta lift me off the ground?” Blob cooed nastily. “That’s cute. Nice effort, kiddo, but ya obviously didn’t do your homework. Nothing moves the Blob!”

“I could telekinetically hurl you into the sun, you simple-minded tub of lard,” the boy snapped. “I’m only holding back because of Krakoan rules. But by all means, feel free to try my patience.”

“Try my patience?” Pyro repeated incredulously. “Hey Freddie, this kid thinks he’s Magneto or something. Simmer down, junior.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to be mocking the mutant who was telekinetically holding him suspended in the air, but booze had ruined Pyro’s already less-than-stellar decision making skills.

“It’s Kid Omega,” the boy corrected, and whatever he wanted to say next was drowned out by Pyro and Blob’s obnoxious, jeering laughter.

“Kid Omega, you’ve gotta be bloody kidding me! That’s so adorable!” Pyro stopped laughing as the boy bounced him up and down in the air a few times. “Seriously, ya don’t wanna do that. I’m gonna – “ he interrupted himself by spewing wine and stomach fluids all over the ground below him.

“Gross, dude,” Blob said casually.

“Listen, we’re here because you boys are causing a public disturbance,” Banshee said, hands on his hips. “Remember, you’re expected to follow certain rules and keep the peace if you wanna stay on Krakoa. Pyro, I thought you might be better than this since you joined Kate’s crew, but I guess you’re still just as dumb and violent as always. I don’t think Storm’ll be pleased to hear about this.”

“Aww, c’mon mate, “ Pyro sputtered, still trying to spit the taste of bile and sour grapes out of his mouth. The wine wasn’t nearly as good coming back up, and his stomach was roiling. “It was just a little scuffle that got outta hand. We weren’t hurting anyone. ‘Cept each other.”

“Oooooh, you’re in trouble now, Pyro! Banshee’s gonna tell on you,” Blob drawled. “Then they might kick you out of their little heroes club.”

“Piss off, Freddie.” Pyro would never, ever admit to that particular fear, buried deep under a shit-ton of apathy and forced bravado. He honestly kind of liked the Marauder crew, despite having tangled with most of them in the past (although in some respects, he really liked them more because of that.) He knew he had the reputation of being the loose cannon of the group, given how frequently he was reminded not to kill (as if Sabretooth’s horrific fate wasn’t enough of a deterrent), but he was following all their bloody rules, wasn’t he? He wasn’t keen on getting thrown out. He’d go stir crazy on the island without a way to burn off all his energy with “a bit of the old ultraviolence.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook either, Blob,” Banshee said sternly.

“Awww, whattaya gonna do? Use Lady Mastermind to force me to be a good boy?” This apparently struck a nerve, as Banshee blanched for a moment. He’d have to ask Blob about that later.

“Maybe we should, if that’s what it takes for morons like you to behave yourselves,” said the kid snidely. “No wonder the cause of mutant rights never got anywhere before if it was championed by you two losers.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna listen to any lip from some brat that hasn’t even grown pubes yet,” Blob snarled. “I was out busting my ass for mutant rights while you were getting conceived behind a bowling alley at 3 AM!”

Pyro was about to chime in with something equally nasty, when suddenly his entire world shifted. The beach disappeared, and he was floating with the vastness of space stretched out before him. Stars and planets that he had never seen, that he couldn’t even conceive of, glittered in impossible colors against the darkness, and it would have been extremely cool, if not for two unfortunate facts. One – he couldn’t breathe, and his lungs spasmed and choked in a horribly familiar way when he tried. Two – it was cold. It soaked through his skin, into his bones, seeming to devour him from the inside.

And then, just as suddenly, he was back on the island, still shivering in the tropical heat, taking deep breaths of the moist air scented with the ocean, the faint perfume of nearby flowers, and the strong scent of sour wine. He’d been dropped onto the sand, and was lying in his own vomit. Well, he’d always said it wasn’t a good night if you didn’t puke on yourself at some point.

“Whoa, that was a hell of a thing,” Blob stammered, still shaking as Pyro sat up.

“All right, boyo, that’s enough. I’m not sure what you did, but I’m sure they deserved it,” Banshee said briskly, putting a hand on Kid Omega’s shoulder.

“I made a universe in my own mind, you know. And I can put people there anytime. So don’t piss me off,” the boy said, staring daggers at Blob.

“Yeah, yeah, nice tricks, pink hair,” Blob waved his hand dismissively, quickly recovered from the ordeal. “I used to work with a guy who can do illusions. You’re nothing I ain’t seen before.”

“I’m Omega level!” the boy snapped, as Banshee just shook his head.

“i’M oMeGa LeVeL!” Blob mocked, and Pyro couldn’t stop himself from snickering.

“Forget it, lad, they’re not worth it. They’re just drunk and stupid. Very, very stupid, “ Banshee said. “I’m giving you idiots your one warning, got it? If I have to come back out here, you’re gonna spend the night in the drunk tank – which is NOT built for comfort – and spend all day doin’ community service tomorrow. There’s bathrooms to be cleaned, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, message received. We’ll be good,” Pyro said. He almost wanted to apologize, it was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in front of that posturing little brat. Banshee he could respect, but not this pissant half his age that thought he was the next Big Thing for mutantkind. There was always one of them running around.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna keep junior here up past his bedtime,” Blob added. “He’s obviously already cranky.”

“Shut it, or I’ll let him put your minds through a telepathic blender,” Banshee snapped, but he grabbed the boy by the arm, and walked off into the jungle. There was a quiet moment, while Pyro staggered none too steadily around, gathering up the wine bottle and their respective glasses (or pots), then collapsed against Blob’s side. He needed something to wash the taste of stomach acid out of his mouth. And besides, throwing up meant he was entitled to more – it was like hitting the reset button on intoxication, right? He could feel Blob quivering against him, and realized after a moment that the man was shaking with laughter.

“Can….can you believe that little twerp,” Blob gasped. “Strutting around with his boots and leather jacket like he’s hot shit. Oooo, look at me, I’m Kid Omega!”

“I think pink hair is a substitute for having a personality!” Pyro chimed in. “Probably jerks off to…..I dunno, what are kids into these days? Is it still Harry Potter? NSYNC?”

“Fortnite? I think?”

“What the fuck is Fortnite?” Blob shrugged in response.

“Christ, Freddie, we really are over the hill.” Pyro shook his head and filled Blob’s stew-pot to the brim.

“Well, you ain’t. You missed some years an’ I’m pretty sure they brought you back younger. You’re missing some lines there.”

“Missing scars, too.” Pyro stretched his arms out in front of him, as if he could see through the spandex. Underneath, they were disturbingly smooth, no trace of the marks life had left on him. Like Blob’s skin, which was almost impossible to pierce. But he probably had scars hidden somewhere.

“Hey, Freddie.”

“Yeah, string bean?”

“About that whole….suicide thing. What you said earlier. You wanna talk about it?” Blob shifted against him.

“Nah, it…it wasn’t really such a big thing. Just went through a rough patch, is all. You know me, I can bounce back from anything. That’s why I made it so long. I was kicking up shit way back in the day, and I’m still kicking now. No need to resurrect the Blob,” he finished proudly.

“Yeah, you got me there. Me, and a lot of others.”

“Too many.” Blob shook his head. “I been waiting forever for Unus to come back, but seems like he’s low on the list. Most of us are. Same old story.”

“Yeah.” Pyro had asked Mystique when Avalanche’s turn would come, but she couldn’t give him a clear answer – given that Destiny hadn’t been resurrected yet, it seemed like she didn’t have a huge amount of power over those decisions, despite her position on the Council. Would former terrorist criminals come before or after the millions of mutants that had died at Genosha? Meanwhile other Council members’ family and friends got pushed to the front of the line, and Magneto couldn’t be bothered to stand up for people like Avalanche and Unus and the old Mastermind – but he’d still brought back several of his Acolytes (even Fabian Cortez, who, according to what Frezny had told him over a couple of drinks, was the absolute worst.) Of course Magneto would bring back fanatics that worshiped the ground he walked on. He couldn’t completely quiet the fear that lingered in the back of his mind – that this whole thing would eventually fall apart, before certain people came back.

“I guess I was lucky to be a guinea pig after all, otherwise I’d probably be at the back of the line somewhere.”

“Fuck it, man, it’s all political. They just bring back their people, or the ones they think’ll be useful. I’m lucky I ain’t croaked,” Blob sighed.

“They’d bring ya back, Freddie. You’re one of a kind. Look, mate, I’m sorry about what I said. That no one likes ya. It’s not true. I like ya. Toad likes ya. Dom liked ya, even though you picked fights all the time. I’m glad you’re here and not dead.” Pyro wasn’t sure why he was being so generous after some of the crap that Fred had said, but to hell with it. He was probably feeling soft ‘cause of the whole “suicide” thing. And when it came down to it, he didn’t have that many friends – and his very closest one was still dead. May as well appreciate the ones that weren’t six feet under.

“Only picked fights ‘cause you guys were always looking down on me, acting like your powers were so much better,” Blob grumbled.

“We only did that because you were always throwing your weight around, pretendin’ you were too good to follow Mystique’s orders, bein’ nasty to everyone – “ Pyro abruptly stopped, biting his tongue. This wasn’t where he wanted this conversation to go, and he was still just sober enough to remember Banshee’s threat if another fight broke out. He sighed deeply, then poured Fred another generous serving of wine.

“Fuck, Fred, let’s not do this. We’ve been through some shit together, yeah? We all acted like dicks sometimes back in the day, but it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry I said you were a fat piece of shit.”

“Well, I kinda am, ain’t I?”

“If you’re a fat piece of shit, I’m a skinny piece of shit. None of us are exactly saints in the Brotherhood.”

“You’re a saint. It’s right in your name.” Blob poked at him clumsily.

“Yeah, real ironic, that. Gran wanted a good Christian name so I’d be good Christian lad. Buckley’s chance of that.”

“You get real Aussie when you’re drunk, ya know that. Can’t barely understand ya.” Blob was starting to slur now, having gone through the equivalent of several vats of wine at this point. “But hey man, I’m sorry I said that I was glad you died. I mean, I was glad right when it happened. I was mad at you ‘cause of Post. But it was a shitty way to go, wasting away like that. You didn’t deserve that. Gettin’ eaten up inside by your own power. I remember when that happened to Unus. He…he died right in my arms, man.” Blob’s voice sounded shaky again. Pyro reached up and patted his side – somewhere below the armpit, since he couldn’t reach huge man’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Freddie. I’m sure Unus didn’t deserve that, either.” Pyro had never met the force-field wielding mutant, but he’d heard stories when Blob was feeling especially drunk and sentimental. But he didn’t think he’d ever seen this kind of raw vulnerability from Fred J Dukes before. He’d blame the wine – stupid wizard probably cursed it with a sadness spell or something. Get the mutants to drop their guard by making them all soppy.

“He sure as hell didn’t.” Blob actually reached up and rubbed his forearm over his eyes, and Pryo diplomatically pretended not to notice. “I miss him, man. He was a real stand-up guy, you know, for a criminal piece of garbage, and he didn’t let anyone push him around. Don’t think I’ve ever clicked with anyone like him. And now they’re danglin’ this resurrection thing in front of us, and who knows if they’ll ever get around to him? Must be worse for you, with Dominic, right man?”

“I sure as fuck miss him,” Pyro admitted, downing another glass. “He’s my best mate.”

“Hey look, man, what I said earlier, I wasn’t tryin’ ta –“

“Freddie, I really don’t wanna talk about it.” Pyro abruptly found himself pinned as Blob swung an arm down around him, holding him pressed against his side. “What the hell, Freddie, are you tryin’ ta flirt, now?”

“No man, just listen. Listen, listen man, shhh, listen,” Blob said in what he probably thought was a soothing whisper, while Pyro pushed uselessly against him. “I don’t wanna start another fight, but I got stuff I wanna say. I wasn’t tryin’ ta be a jerk before, okay? When I brought it up. I just wanted to say that, you know….we knew. We ain’t that dumb, and you guys weren’t that slick. We figured out you were – “

“Don’t say it, okay?” Pyro snapped.

“Fine, but dude. Listen. We don’t care. That’s the important thing here. I mean, we probably cared a little back in the day. I admit I made some pretty shitty jokes, but, you know, times were different. I mean, ‘homo’ was the worst thing you could be back when I was growin’ up. Until mutants started becoming a thing, of course.”

“Yeah, same here,” Pyro muttered. Apparently this conversation was happening whether he liked it or not. He downed more wine to try to stop his insides from twisting up.

“But everything’s like, different now. Most people don’t give a shit anymore. Including most of us in the Brotherhood. I mean, it was stupid to ever care in the first place. We’re already a group of outcast criminals, and we’re gonna judge you guys for wanting to bang each other? It’s cool if you don’t wanna make out in public or get married or anything, but you don’t haveta sneak around anymore. I’m cool with it, Toad’s cool with it. I think ‘Tazia had you figured for gay even before Avalanche came back. ‘Cause you weren’t drooling over her like Toad an me.”

“She was a perceptive one.” Pyro wondered for a moment whatever had happened to Eileen. She had been close-mouthed about her past – and Pyro could respect that – but extremely intelligent, and fun to talk to.

“The point is, it’s a brave new world and all that. Dudes are marrying each other, chicks are marrying each other. There’s a whole show starring drag queens that’s run for like, 10 years or something. It’s all mainstream now. I mean, I still don’t get it. Making out with another dude sounds gross to me. But I ain’t got no problem with other people doing it.”

“That’s real decent of you, Fred,” Pyro said, and he wasn’t totally sure if he was being sarcastic. This was a surprisingly heartfelt comment coming from Dukes. “You spend a lot of time writin’ that speech up?”

“I’m tryin’ ta be nice here, okay, matchstick? And I’m just sick of you pretendin’ ta be straight, an’ me havin’ to pretend I don’t know.” He trailed off, and gulped down his pot of wine, finally releasing Pyro from his grip.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Pryo conceded. Even though actually dragging all this out into the open felt horribly uncomfortable. Exposed. “Don’t expect me to do some big ‘coming out,’ thing or wear a rainbow or any of that crap, though. I’m not into that. My private life is my private life, right? I’ll just….stop trying so hard to hide it, you know?”

He’d already started to relax his guard a little in front of the Marauders, even picking up a guy at one of the bars that Iceman always dragged them to – although he’d waited until Storm and Bishop had left for the night, and Kate and Iceman seemed too drunk to notice. Iceman seemed to think Pyro was straight, as he’d asked him, with a mix of nervousness and defiance, if he “minded” the first night they went to a gay bar. That probably would have been the time to say it, if Pyro was a little braver, but instead he’d just shrugged and said, “No worries,” like a good tolerant fellow. Of course they wouldn’t care. For all he knew, maybe none of them were straight. He’d seen Kate give sideways glances to girls, Storm and Calisto seemed to have some chemistry between them, Bishop never seemed to mind men hitting on him at clubs. But still. A literal lifetime ago, he’d been afraid of getting his teeth kicked in, or worse. Things were different now, but actually coming out and saying it….it was not so much baring his chest, more like stripping completely naked and handing the other person a knife.

“Hey, fine. Do what ya want. But I’m still gonna make fun of you and Dom if you get all lovey-dovey in front of us. Not because it’s gay, just because I hate that hearts and flowers crap.”

“I would expect nothing less, Blobbo.” Pryo took another long drink of wine, refilled his glass and downed it again, until the tension eased out of his spine.

He supposed it had been stupid to assume that no one noticed. Everyone living in close quarters, both in Brotherhood safehouses and government facilities (not to mention prison). They’d all known. Had they gossiped about him? Laughed behind his back? Been disgusted?

But then, Toad and Phantazia had both hovered over him protectively in the first stages of his illness, when they were all on Empyrean’s private island together. Toad had even talked about how glad he was that Avalanche could be “there for him,” and wow, there was probably a coded message that Pyro had been too dense at the time to pick up on. Mystique was certainly not one to judge, and she’d figured him out ages ago. And if Fred Dukes, of all people, was accepting, then…well, it was probably okay, wasn’t it?

“Hey, matchstick.”

“Yeah, Freddie?”

“You and Dom. Who tops? Be honest, ‘cause I got money riding on this.”

“Shit, Freddie, I gotta be way drunker for this conversation.” And he poured again. The bottle continued to oblige.

When he opened his eyes a crack, the sun pierced right through to stab into his brain. Pyro groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again, bringing one arm up clumsily to better block out the light. He felt like utter shit, and that realization caused a sharp spike of alarm in his chest.

Sick. I’m sick again.

Or maybe he’d always been sick. Because it was all too good to be true, wasn’t it? Dying like a hero, coming back to life on this magical island where mutants from all sides of the political divide were having nonstop raves and orgies, getting to sail around and play pirate with the X-Men, who accepted him as a team-mate without question. How could that possibly be real? Wasn’t it more likely that this was all just the fever dream of a dying man, still lingering comatose in a hospital somewhere?

Except Pyro realized in a moment that he was lying on sand, with ocean waves creating a comforting rhythm just at the edge of his hearing. And the pain he was feeling wasn’t quite the same as what the Legacy Virus had done to him. His head was pounding like a drum, he ached all over, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get through the morning without barfing at least once – but he could breathe without pain. He sucked in a deep, cool breath and slowly let it out again. No coughing, no burning in his lungs, no constricting weight on his chest.

This wasn’t Legacy, it was a very familiar kind of suffering. One he’d inflicted on himself many times before.

“Heya, toothpick!” Blob’s voice boomed cheerfully in his ear. “Had a little too much last night, huh?”

“Uggghhhhh…..fuck off, Fred,” Pyro mumbled, trying to roll away from the sound of his voice. Moving made his stomach flip-flop, and he stopped for a moment.

“Haw, haw, ya shouldna tried to keep with me, ya scrawny little light-weight,” Blob guffawed, but he didn’t sound as mean as usual. Pyro feel something cool being pressed against his face.

“Here man, drink this and come back to life.” He opened his eyes again, wincing, and accepted the water bottle that Blob was holding out to him.

“Probably gonna take a few of these, Fred,” Pyro said, carefully sitting up, pausing for a moment to swallow saliva and wait for his stomach to hopefully quiet itself. Then he began sipping the water cautiously.

“You’ll probably need a couple of these, too,” Blob offered, slipping him some aspirin.

“Thanks, mate, right neighborly of ya. You’re in a good mood this mornin’ aint ya?” He swallowed the aspirin and gulped down more water.

“Well, I actually was smart enough to drink water last night, so I didn’t totally wreck myself. Plus I never get hit too hard with hang-overs. Got all this extra body mass cushioning me.” He laughed again, slapping at his belly. “Besides, it was hilarious watching you last night. You were trashed, man.”

“Well, I had good company, didn’t I?” Pyro looked around, squinting in the bright morning light. He’d wound up sleeping sprawled out on the sand at the edge of the jungle, just a few feet away from Blob’s hut, thankfully some distance away from the puddle of vomit he’d left the previous night. He remembered that part clearly – the fight, the encounter with Banshee and that little pink-haired shit acting as Krakoa’s rent-a-cops, some of the heartfelt conversation that had followed. And then, the night dissolved into a dream-like haze. Well, they weren’t locked up in the drunk tank, so they must not have gotten in any more trouble.

“Least I know how to handle my liquor,” Blob chuckled. “You wanna shower, toothpick? You smell like something Wolverine rolled in.” Pyro grimaced as he realized that the sour aroma of dried puke and smashed pumpkin was wafting up around him.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

He spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, using Blob’s surprisingly luxurious bath products, then gave his uniform a thorough scrubbing, and fire-dried it. He’d get a clean one from the Marauder later, but he didn’t feel like sitting around smelling like garbage in the meantime.

Vague images kept floating up out of the haze while he washed, little snippets of memories dissolved in wine.

…..Blob putting the stew pot over his head and fastening a curtain around his shoulders, staggering around shouting, “To me, my Brotherhood! Throw yourself under the bus for mutant rights! I’m a self-important jackass and I don’t actually care about any of you, my loyal soldiers!” while Pyro rolled around in the sand laughing hysterically…….

……Pyro splashing into the waves, yelling back at Blob, “I’m gonna do it, you’ll see! I’m gonna fight one a’ them sharks with my bare hands, then fry up it for dinner! We’re gonna have a barbeque right on the beach, yeah.” Blob was bellowing laughter while pulling him back with one hand, so that he was helplessly flailing around, swimming in place. “C’mon mate, I can do it! Aussies aren’t scared of sharks! We’ll kick the shit out of any animal!” “C’mon dumbass, this won’t be nearly so funny if you drown,” and then he was being hauled back up onto the beach……

…..then he was draped across the stomach of a maudlin Blob, who wasn’t even bothering to hide the tears that dripped down his cheeks. “It’s just….what am I if I’m not the Blob, right? You’ve got those stupid books, but what have I got? I mean, I’m nothing without my powers. I tried to make it work back then, I really did. Got my own reality show, got real popular in Japan, but it just wasn’t enough. I was miserable not bein’ the Blob.” Pyro was patting at Blob’s stomach, almost kneading it like a cat, in what he probably had thought was a comforting manner at the time, muttering encouraging nonsense,” Nah, Freddie, c’mon mate, you’ve got lots to offer, you got a big heart and a big personality……”

….then the two of them were chucking the last of Blob’s squash and pumpkins at the trees. For some reason they were both singing “Highway to the Danger Zone” at the top of their lungs……

Pyro just sighed and tried to blink it all away. It wasn’t actually the worst drunk memories he had. At least neither of them had gotten naked. He hoped.

“Hey man, you took your sweet time. You jerking off in there?” Blob said as he emerged, piling eggs and bacon onto a plate and passing it to him. Luckily his stomach had settled a great deal by then.

“Nah, I wouldn’t be so crass, Freddy. I only jerk off in my own shower.”

“Guess it’s not as much fun without Avalanche, huh?” And Blob actually winked at him.

Pyro opened his mouth to snap back at Dukes, to tell him to shut up and mind his own damn business. Then closed it again, because he couldn’t actually detect any malice in the other man’s tone. Not needling him, just…playful joking, in Blob’s own crass way.

Instead, he just shrugged and grinned. “Guess so. Thanks heaps for the food, Freddie. And the bloody aspirin, I really needed that.”

“Well, what can I say, I know my manners. I’m a hospitable guy,” Blob chuckled, sitting down to his own breakfast. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after what you gave me.”

Pyro paused with the fork mid-way up to his mouth, thinking back. What had he given him, besides a whole fuckton of wine?

“’Fraid I don’t quite remember what you’re referring to there,” he said cautiously. Had he promised his services or something? Given up some of the booty he’d stashed from raids with the Marauders? (He didn’t feel at all bad about that, as the captain herself was actively encouraging them to take as much booze and money as they pleased.)

“The wine.” Blob jerked a thumb over to the shelf on the wall, where the bottle sat surrounded by little ornaments, as if occupying a place of honor.

“Oh yeah, well I’m always glad to share – “

“No man, the whole bottle. You gave me the bottle.”

Pyro’s fork slipped out of his hand. Fuck. Fuck! He hadn’t. Surely he hadn’t been so stupid as to give up a priceless treasure like that, just because ol’ Blob had gotten a little weepy last night. Surely not.

“Oh hell, I didn’t really, did I?”

“You did! You insisted.”

And much as he wanted to deny it, there was a memory creeping back into his mind. Himself, holding the bottle up to Fred with a grandiose air, waxing poetic about how he would be Krakoa’s Dionysus, Life of the Party, Keeper of the Mysteries, and the other mutants would frolic around him like the Maenads. Christ, he really was a pretentious sot when he got drunk, wasn’t he? (But hey, he couldn’t help that he’d gone through a pretty heavy Greek mythology phase as a kid. It was just so interesting!)

“I….guess I might remember something like that,” he conceded hesitantly. “But that doesn’t count, does it? You can’t hold me to that! I was trashed out of my mind!”

“Not so trashed that you couldn’t blather on about a bunch of Classical bullshit!” Blob declared. “It was damned funny. And if you think I’m givin’ this bottle back to you, you’ve got another thing coming.” His tone stayed light, but a sharp gleam in his eye suggested the promise of another fight.

“C’mon Freddie, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Look man, I thought this might happen. So I got video evidence. I got a message from Drunk Pyro to Sober Pyro.” He held out his cell phone.

“Fuuuuuck,” Pyro moaned, not even wanting to see. He took a side glance at the bottle, so inviting out in the open. He should just grab it and run. Instead, he heard the sound of his own voice, slurred with wine, Australian accent even thicker than usual so that he was running his words against the backs of one another.

“I, St. John Allerdyce,” the figure on the video stopped to belch, “bein’ of sound mind an’ body, do hereby bequeath this bottle of never-endin’ wine to Frederick J. Dukes, the Blob, forever an’ ever, no take backs! Be’cause…..’cause….he’s my good mate, an’ he needs somethin’ for himself, an’ I’m fulla good will tonight.” The figure was bleary-eyed and staggering, but at least he seemed to be happy, judging by the wide grin stretching his face.

“Fuckin’ hell, Drunk Pyro,” Sober Pyro groaned, laying his head in his hands. That bastard had gotten him into more scrapes than he could count.

“But!” Drunk Pyro continued on the video. “There’s….conditions. One….no….two! Two…two conditions.” He swayed for a moment, seeming to look up at the stars before pulling himself back together. “Condition the first! You gotta share the wine, Freddie. Share it like, like I’ve been…been sharing it. Bring it to all the parties. Pour for….for eeeeveryone.” He made a sweeping gesture and nearly fell over. “Condition the two! You gotta….gotta give me special access, right? I get ta come over and drink as much as I want, any time I want, yeah? No matter what!”

“I accept your conditions,” came Blob’s voice from behind the camera. Drunk Pyro grinned again.

“Then I now pronounce you man and bottle!” He crowed, holding it aloft. “You may kiss the …wait, no, don’t put your mouth directly on it. Everyone’s gotta drink that.”

“Now make it official by singing Waltzing Matilda. That’s Australia’s national anthem, right?” Blob’s voice suggested on the video.

“No, it isn’t, “ said Sober Pyro.

“Yes, mate, you’re exactly right!” exclaimed Drunk Pyro. He made it through one off-key verse and chorus before fumbling the words and collapsing to his knees, laughing.

“Hey man, thanks for this,” said Blob’s voice on the video, as a hand reached out to take the bottle from Drunk Pyro. And Blob actually sounded a bit sincere. “I really appreciate it, ya doing something like this for me.”

“Well, you’re my special mate, right? We’ve been through loads together. And I feel sooo wonderful tonight. I’m fulla…..fulla love for everybody!” Drunk Pyro spread his arms out to the stars. “The world is so bloody beautiful, yeah?”

“Who do you love, Pyro?” Blob asked from behind the camera.

“Everybody! All the little mutants, and even the humans, too! The ones that aren’t too shitty, anyway.”

“Who do you really love?” Blob asked pointedly.

For a moment, Drunk Pyro looked up at the camera in confusion, then he lit up with the nicest smile Pyro had seen on his own face in a long time. It wasn’t cruel or sarcastic, not sloppy drunk or wild with adrenaline. It was the kind of genuine, soft smile he’d described in many novels over the years.

“I love Dominic!” Pyro exclaimed, hugging arms around himself and slumping down against the sand. “I love Dom.”

“Oy, you fucker!” The video switched off abruptly as Sober Pyro made a grab at the cell-phone in Blob’s hand. “How dare you, how fucking dare you pull that shit! Fucking shit-cunt!”

“Hey man, chill out! You gave me the bottle fair and square!” Blob held the phone over his head, while Pyro began trying to clamber up him.

“Forget the bottle, I don’t care! Why would you make me say that! On video, for fucks sake? You lookin’ to blackmail me?”

“No man, no!” Blob plucked Pyro off with his other hand, and deposited him back in his chair. “That’s not what that was about! I ain’t gonna show it to anyone. Here, look, I’m deleting it. Geez.” Blob pushed a couple of buttons in his phone.

“You were tryin’ to make me say it, though, weren’t you? Why would you want me to say that?!” Pyro glowered at him over the table.

“I dunno man, I was loaded, too! I just….thought it would be nice, I guess. I thought maybe….maybe you’d feel a little better if you said it.” Blob looked confused, and again oddly vulnerable. Not mocking or mean.

“You thought I’d feel better? Seriously?” Pyro gave a breathless laugh.

“I mean….yeah, man. It’s like what we talked about last night. You’re so uptight about this shit, but no one cares anymore.”

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Pyro sighed, putting his head in his hands again. Fucking Blob. Fucking Drunk Pyro, spewing everything out into the open.

But….it probably had felt kind of good to say it in the moment, hadn’t it? All open like that? He couldn’t deny, Drunk Pyro had looked beatifically happy when he said those words, his eyes soft and gentle. Perfect for a scene in a romance, even if he was absolutely humiliated to see that expression on his own face. He supposed there was no sense in denying it. He’d said it, after all.

“Don’t spread it around about Dom, okay? I mean, I know what I am. I’ve known for a long time, and I guess I don’t mind people knowing, now that we’re all enlightened these days. But I think Dom’s still working some things out. Or at least he was.”

“Yeah, sure, man, my lips are sealed,” Blob agreed. “So, are we cool?”

“You deleted that video, right?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re gonna give me free wine whenever I want, just like you promised, yeah?”

“Of course! I’m a generous fellow, and I don’t go back on an agreement!” Blob pressed a hand against his chest, proudly.

“Then, yeah. Freddie. We’re cool.”

Notes: Apologies to poor Quentin Quire, he didn’t deserve the crap Blob and Pyro were throwing at him. I have nothing against the character, he just seemed like the kind of arrogant young hot-shot mutant that Pyro and Blob would have no respect for (even if he could absolutely destroy them).

#pyro #st. john allerdyce #blob #fred dukes

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

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Plea for My New Self

Sanders sides Vampire College AU - it’s gay - it’s full of fun fluffy tropes - a bit o’ hurt/comfort - mostly fluff

Words: 4,531 Warnings: Extreme sass, Arguing, Alcohol, Illness mention Characters: Virgil, Roman, Deceit (Logan and Patton Mentioned) Ships: Prinxiety, Anxceit, Eventual LAMPD/CALMD Universe: Plea for my New Self Rating: T Genre: Prinxiety Bickering

Chapter 28: Sir Prize

Chapter 1 for New Readers - ffn mirror

“It’s absolute bullshit, Virgil! No freshman can play the lead role. Ugh! He can’t even waltz! One of us will have to teach him!” Roman shouted, waving his arm in dissatisfaction. Virgil held Roman gently in the middle of the dorm floor while he fumed wildly about the audition results, trying to console him with very little success. He rubbed Roman’s back a while and sighed with exasperation. Just getting him back to their dorm was hard enough. Virgil was still pissed about Mitchell’s bullshit and only just managed to start saying consoling or productive words. He mostly was just hissing and grousing as he guided an enraged Roman across campus to their room. Roman tried to run off to punch things on 4 separate occasions. Virgil nearly let him until he realized Roman would dent or damage whatever he hit, and Virgil wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.

“Well, at least you’re not playing a womanizer,” Virgil rolled his eyes and shifted Roman in his lap to sit more comfortably.

“I was clearly better suited for and more capable of playing Septimus than that Anton jerk!” Roman hissed angrily. Virgil ran his hand through Roman’s hair and continued to try to settle him down.

“I thought so, too, but at least you get to threaten him with a sword,” Virgil offered in solace. Roman looked more interested in that over everything else he’d tried to say to calm him down. He should have known threats of violence were the answer. When weren’t they, really? He knew what he’d like to say to that- nope, nope. Deal with Roman’s anger and his own anger would calm down.

“That is a bonus,” Roman huffed and crossed his arms. “But Septimus’s lines are more fun, and Captain Brice is barely in the play,” Roman groaned bitterly, his fingers balled into fists. Virgil kissed Roman’s forehead and stroked his hair again.

“And you’ll deliver those lines way better than anyone else on the stage, and they’ll see their dire folly,” Virgil cooed, slightly running his nails gently along Roman’s scalp and returning to stroking his back.

“Quit patronizing me, Virge! It’s a travesty of justice!” Roman objected loudly, flailing an arm again in righteous indignation. And people called Virgil a drama queen. Roman was the drama king and Virgil was a drama knight at worst compared to him.

“I’m not patronizing you, I’m giving you the gift of the greatest and most powerful driving force behind all human endeavors. Spite,” Virgil smirked. If nothing else works, appeal to spite. It had always worked for Deceit in the past, anyway. Roman blinked at him for a moment, processing what he said.

“You devious bastard,” A grin broke out and spread slowly across Roman’s face. Roman grabbed Virgil’s head and jerked him forward to kiss him. “Bless you,” He held his face and said emphatically. Virgil hissed facetiously at the blessing. Roman looked shocked and pulled back quickly.

“Sorry, vampire joke,” Virgil chuckled, having amused himself, and lightly scratched Roman’s neck. Roman shivered slightly at the gentle motion.

“You sound exactly like a cat when you really mean it, it’s surprising,” Roman said, looking slightly baffled up at Virgil.

“We can go blow off some steam somewhere, if you like. I know it’s getting late and a school night, but you’ve never seemed to care,” Virgil shrugged. Anything to cheer Roman back up so Virgil wouldn’t go stalk Mitchell and… cheer up Roman. Staying in control was important.

“Get me drunk, Virgil,” Roman held Virgil’s shoulders and stared seriously into Virgil’s eyes.

“What, for real? You sassed the shit out of me when you thought I was drinking under-aged,” Virgil huffed angrily, shaking his head. The audacity of this bitch.

“I never implied that I was free of sin,” Roman crossed his arms, continuing his intense stare.

“Let me guess, you and your brother were teenage bastards and got drunk at house parties?” Virgil took a guess, but he was positive he was right.

“Hey, Remus was the bastard. And it was only a couple of times during my senior year. I’ll have you know I was a perfect gentleman,” Roman glowered at Virgil and held his hand to his chest.

“Nobody is a perfect gentleman drunk. You probably only thought you were,” Virgil rolled his eyes and shifting Roman again so he could reach his upper back to scratch that.

“Excuse me, ladies hung around me like moths to a flame,” Roman said proudly but melted quickly after Virgil started moving his hand.

“I’m sure they just knew you were safe because you’re gay and your eyes or hands never wandered to their anywhere,” Virgil chuckled and started rubbing Roman’s back instead, not wanting to accidentally cut Roman.

“Okay, in hindsight, maybe that’s true. But I never broke any vases or threw anybody into a pool,” Roman said defensively, though his expression was still relaxed.

“Speaking of gay hindsight, are you thinking about coming out of the closet yet?” Virgil asked, gently scratching the back of Roman’s head again.

“I… I don’t know if it’s the right time,” Roman muttered, closing his eyes.

“It’s not like they can cut you off anymore, you already cut yourself off. You’re the one who thinks it’s important,” Virgil reminded him.

“Okay, so I’m nervous about it, so sue me!” Roman shot Virgil a cross look.

“You? Nervous? I don’t believe you,” Virgil laughed airily. Roman swatted him on the arm with a sour look on his face.

“Are you going to get me drunk or not?” Roman pouted, returning his arms to the angrily crossed state.

“Fine, fine, we’ll drink away your casting woes. Do you want me to sneak you in a bar or do you want to just get a hotel room and some high-dollar tequila?” Virgil listed Roman’s options, not feeling like fighting it any longer.

“Oh, I didn’t realize the second one was an option,” Roman hummed, sounding like he was mulling it over.

“We can’t bring alcohol on campus. I’m stealthy but I’m not risking expulsion over you being moody about some guy who can’t even waltz,” Virgil said, tilting his head and rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Let’s do the high-dollar tequila one, I don’t want to get arrested at a bar,” Roman decided. Probably the better choice of the two.

“Smart. Do you want to invite anybody?” Virgil asked, returning to running his fingers through Roman’s hair and humming contentedly.

“Patton and Logan both don’t approve of under-aged drinking,” Roman frowned. “They’re not up for it and they probably don’t want us doing it either,”

“That’s true,” Virgil shrugged. “And I’m not boozing up the whole drama club minus Anton, I draw the line there. How about D? He’d also find it a travesty that you weren’t cast as the lead,” Virgil suggested with a slight smirk.

“His hobby seems to be embarrassing me, Virge, why would I want to do that?” Roman asked incredulously, tilting his head from side to side.

“Because he is the most affectionate drunk on the planet. He would whisper you sweet nothings instead of you being stuck listening to me make fun of you all night,” Virgil explained his reasoning with a little shrug.

“Oh, are you drinking with me?” Roman raised his eyebrow. So Roman remembered that Virgil was a bitchy drunk. Virgil chuckled through his nose and took Roman’s hand.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m buying it. I’m not watching you have fun all night, that’d be the real travesty of justice,” Virgil grinned evilly as he watched Roman return to righteous indignation in a second flat.

“No worse than Anton’s acting, I assure you!” Roman blurted irately, glaring at Virgil.

“He’s not that bad, Princey. I thought he was good,” Roman looked extremely offended and made a wide variety of upset noises. “You were better, hands down! But he’ll be good enough,” Roman made a variety of offended noises. “Fine, he’ll be an absolute disaster. So much of a wreck the entire theatre collapses due to his sheer ineptitude,” Virgil rolled his eyes and pulled Roman’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“Now you’re definitely patronizing me,” Roman crossed his arms again and scowled. Virgil dropped his hand and pulled him in close for a kiss. He maybe restarted this mess, but he didn’t want Roman to get riled up all over again and turn Virgil into an angry idiot. Roman was sour at first but kissed back after a moment. He didn’t care about the placating words much longer.

“If you want to, text D and ask him if he wants to get drunk with us. I can’t reach my phone without moving you. So get off so I can start looking for a liquor store and a hotel,” Virgil asked him after he pulled away. Roman looked a little dazed and blinked a few times before shaking it off and pulling out his phone. Virgil kissed Roman’s hair while he texted. “So those party examples earlier were very specific. Your brother did break a vase and throw someone in a pool, didn’t he?” Virgil raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, yes, he did. It’s really not a particularly splendid idea to get him drunk,” Roman smiled knowingly. There was probably a story there, and that little smile intrigued Virgil.

“That just makes me want to get him drunk, Princey. Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Virgil laughed. He wanted to see this guy party.

“Your ancient unhinged ass is probably the most dangerous combination with him,” Roman looked a little horrified at the thought. “You must never get him drunk,”

“You know I’m cautious, what makes you say that?” Virgil asked, nearly feeling offended at the implication. Virgil could control himself just fine. Assuming he stayed in control, anyway.

“Because it doesn’t take very much to flip that caution into fuckitville when it comes to low-risk things, and sometimes if you do enough low-risk things the higher risk stuff seems more acceptable. Remus would find a way to change your mind and he’d abuse it,” Roman insisted seriously.

“You’re no fun,” Virgil stuck his tongue out.

“You probably want an excuse to do stupid shit deep down. Remus once jumped off a roof to see if he’d bounce,” Roman motioned to Virgil and looked very convinced he was right.

“Oh, a scientist,” Virgil chuckled. Roman was probably right.

“See?” Roman glared at him, gripping one of Virgil’s shoulders.

“Fine, I trust you! I get that I have a poor sense of boundaries and sometimes imagine brutally murdering people,” Virgil rolled his eyes, taking Roman’s hand again.

“God, Virgil, don’t joke about that,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows at Virgil.

“No, I do. I don’t want to do it. Well, sometimes I do. I know better, anyway,” Virgil shrugged dismissively.

“You should probably feed on me,” Roman said deliberately and nodded.

“Ro, we talked about this. I’m not sure what’s the compulsion and what’s you,” Virgil huffed. This wasn’t the first time this week he brought it up. Roman was probably just trying to wear Virgil down like he always does.

“You’re having murder thoughts and I have tasty tasty blood that solves that problem! Deceit will back me up!” Roman said fiercely, trying to tempt Virgil.

“If he wants to come out with us to a hotel, anyway,” Virgil said dismissively. Deceit would back him up. He did just shove him off the bed to drink from Logan the other day. Murder thoughts just came with the whole package, and D knew that. But D was never afraid to take what he wanted, including what he wanted for Virgil. Roman checked his phone.

“He doesn’t. He wants us to come to get drunk at his apartment,” Roman said, showing Virgil the screen.

“With my baby grand? Sold!” Virgil shot up, still holding onto Roman. “My violin is there too,” Virgil beamed brightly and twisted around, spinning Roman with him.

“Put me down you fucking dork,” Roman said humorously, pushing off of Virgil. Virgil set him down gently. “I want to wear something nice,” Roman went to his closet and started sliding around hangers.

“I thought you were dashing in that silk top,” Virgil winked, watching him dig around in his closet.

“I’ll think about it. It was hard to wash the club smell out of it last time. You should probably put up your hair or it’ll get alcohol in it somehow. It always happened at parties to people with long hair,” Roman suggested and motioned to Virgil’s hair. Virgil hummed in agreement and stepped into the bathroom so he could French braid it in the mirror.

“Will you flit me there?” Roman asked, sounding like he had found something and started changing into it.

“That’s dangerous, Ro, I can’t adjust gravity for anybody but me,” Virgil groaned as he slid his fingers through his hair and pulling it all into a braid.

“Oh, like you’d ever drop me,” Roman huffed disbelieving.

“If I get attacked mid-air I might,” Virgil growled. Roman had absolutely no survival instinct. How did Roman survive this far, exactly?

“How often does that happen?” Roman asked, very obviously poking around for a reasonable place to argue for his cause.

“More often than zero. We should make sure to get you some food to eat,” Virgil said, trying to change the subject. Virgil knew if he let Roman go at it too long, he’d change his mind.

“I can bring some leftovers in a bag. He’s got a fridge, right? I’ve got a half-sub and some penne. I still think you should carry me. It’d be way faster than a car if you’re anywhere close to D’s speed,” Roman changed the subject back. Damnit.

“I’m faster,” Virgil grunted. “Ever so slightly, though. D’s pretty fast for a turned. But you don’t want me to go that fast. Your body isn’t wired for it,” He wrapped the bottom of his hair in a hair tie he dug out of the bottom of his shower bag and started pinning up loose hairs in the mirror.

“Seriously, Virge, more often than zero is probably you saying it doesn’t happen that often,” Roman objected, and he wasn’t wrong. He still was an idiot, though.

“Yeah, it doesn’t, but it’s still dangerous,” Virgil grunted back, making sure everything was in place in the mirror.

“I’ll let you drink my blood,” Roman sang temptingly from the bedroom.

“That’s you getting two things you want, Ro. You’re not fooling me,” Virgil rolled his eyes and slid another hairpin in.

“So you admit that you know I want it and it’s not just the compulsion!” Roman shouted out suddenly. Holy shit, he wasn’t willing to drop either subject.

“Hecate, save me from this evil,” Virgil groaned and ran his hand down his face in frustration.

“Don’t you want to make me happy?” Roman asked sweetly. He was a dog with a bone and he wasn’t letting it the fuck go.

“All the time! I just- augh, you are so frustrating!” Virgil growled. Roman came into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around Virgil, kissing his neck from behind. He had changed into a jewel tone red long sleeve button down with decorative stitching instead of the plain white button-down he auditioned in.

“Do it,” Roman hissed temptingly in his ears, like the evil siren he is.

“I thought your brother was supposed to be the one who was a dangerous combination with me,” Virgil groaned, looking at Roman’s smug face in the mirror. Roman clearly knew he was winning.

“Once again, I never implied I was free of sin,” Roman smirked to Virgil’s reflection. “Wear a dark lip color, you look so good in it,” Roman smiled and kissed Virgil’s neck again. Virgil sighed and changed his makeup to something cleaner and more defined with a dark purple lip. “Stunning. Now take me flying,” Roman demanded.

“You’re very bossy for a sub,” Virgil chided in a low voice and smirked darkly at Roman’s reflection. Roman sputtered wildly, letting go of Virgil. Virgil laughed loudly, holding his sides while Roman babbled partial objections.

“I- I’m not!” Roman eventually stammered out.

“I just wanted to shut you up, Princey,” Virgil smiled and pulled Roman back in, kissing him. “I like the outfit you picked. The embroidery on the sleeves is very classy,” Virgil felt the stitching on Roman’s top. It was flimsy as best, but it looked nice.

“Thanks,” Roman blushed and rubbed his arm a little sheepishly. “I hope Pat’s figured out shielding better or they’re probably very confused right now,” He mused.

“I’m 100% positive you confuse them on at least an hourly basis. But this is what they wanted,” Virgil shrugged, grabbing Roman’s hand and leading him out of the bathroom, then twirling him around the middle of the dorm floor.

“An hourly basis? Please. You’re at least as bad as me. You freaked out because found a song you really liked earlier,” Roman objected as he spun into Virgil’s chest. Virgil pulled him in and pouted.

“It was a really good song,” Virgil growled defensively.

“And that organ at the theatre? You’re a massively irredeemable music nerd,” Roman kissed his cheek. “Come on, take me by foot,” Roman pestered him again, but it was clear in Roman’s tone he already knew he’d won.

“Fine, but I’m leaving you alone on a roof while I pick up the alcohol,” Virgil grunted in concession.

“And put on a flowy blouse,” Roman smiled sweetly.

“Oh, my hallowed Hecate. I need Pat around with you at all times. You’re like a shoulder devil unopposed all by yourself,” Virgil sighed dramatically and let go of Roman to go change tops.

“You don’t seem that resistant,” Roman crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot while he watched. “You’re not really going to leave me alone on a roof, are you?” He asked as Virgil found a blouse that matched the description, still black of course, and pulled off his hoodie and shirt to change.

“Oh, absolutely. You’d rather be left alone in a dark alley?” Virgil smiled mischievously before sliding on the new top.

“Of course not!” Roman said, very irritated.

“They smell absolutely splendiferous, you’ll love it. Nothing like the smell of roofing tar and gravel in the middle of a city,” Virgil said smarmily and smirked before pulling Roman back in.

“You’re an absolute bastard,” Roman grunted.

“And you’re a terrible influence,” Virgil smiled, and they kissed again. Virgil assaulted Roman’s face with a 62 little kisses and Roman’s expression melted into a sweet expression with a little giggle in his throat.

“How do you get up to the roof to leave, anyway? They lock the door there,” Roman mused after a moment of finding his bearings.

“I just pick it. So does Deceit. I’ve never met a vampire who couldn’t pick a lock,” Virgil twirled Roman around again.

“That’s objectively terrifying,” Roman said, looking very concerned when he came back.

“So am I,” Virgil flashed his fangs. “You’re just an idiot and Patton’s got kinks,” Virgil said derisively.

“What about Logan, then?” Roman huffed, surprisingly not objecting to being an idiot this time.

“Intellectually curious. He normally has the good sense to keep his space. But also I think he might have a thing for goths,” Virgil shrugged. “Pack some food for your human intestines,” Roman sighed and went to the fridge to pull out some leftovers. Virgil grabbed a bag out of his closet and tossed it in Roman’s way. Virgil watched him pack the food, feeling pretty satisfied with himself. He knew how to make Princey shut up about wanting to go flitting again.

“To the rooftop, your majesty?” Virgil held out his hand. Roman lightly rolled his eyes but took Virgil’s hand, anyway.

They locked up and headed out of their dorm and up the stairwell. Roman didn't whine about taking the stairs for once, even though there were a few flights to climb. When they got to the top of the stairs, Roman crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, motioning to the door with his arm and looking unimpressed. Virgil flipped a sharp pin set out from behind his ear and listened for the tumblers, picking the lock swiftly. He opened the door and bowed, holding it open for Roman with his arm outstretched.

“You’re such a fucking show off,” Roman groaned, but he was clearly impressed.

“I just like seeing your dumbfounded face,” Virgil slid the pins back into place and checked to make sure the straps of the bag were tight enough before pulling Roman up into his arms. “Do not let go of my neck under any circumstances or I’m never doing this again,” Virgil hissed. Roman wrapped his legs around Virgil’s Torso and nodded. Virgil supported him and held him close.

“Oh, so this isn’t a one-time thing?” Roman smiled knowingly.

“I think you’ve proved your point about how I’m an idiot,” Virgil held Roman tightly and walked to the edge of the roof. “You swear you don’t have vertigo, right? I don’t want to get thrown up on,”

“I would have gotten sick when you first roller-coaster’d me,” Roman replied blithely.

“Great,” Virgil grinned mischievously and held his foot off the edge of the roof.

“What are you doing?” Roman screeched at Virgil and gripped tighter. Virgil stepped off the roof. They dropped and Roman screamed in terror. Virgil reoriented against the building and pushed off two stories down and Roman possibly tried to choke Virgil out in anger with how hard he was squeezing.

“You think it’s a smart idea to choke a person who’s got you 12 stories up?” Virgil laughed as he jumped off the next building.

“You absolute fucking basilisk!” Roman screamed as Virgil bounded again, lifting his gravity and jumping higher.

“This is what you wanted, Princey,” Virgil cackled in delight. That shut him up for sure.

“I wanted you to jump off a roof, not fall off of one!” Roman retorted, his expression completely enraged. To his credit, other than futilely trying to choke Virgil in revenge, he hadn’t let go.

“I’ve jumped off multiple roofs,” Virgil said smugly, making sure Roman was secure in his arms.

“You know what I meant, you bastard,” Roman hissed furiously.

“Enjoy the ride, Princey, you’re the one who was pushing for this,” Virgil cackled again, jumping into the skyline.

“Promise to not do that again!” Roman demanded. Probably fairly.

“I have to do that sometimes,” Virgil knew he was being a smartass, but Roman’s reaction was just too good to stop.

“Then warn me!” Roman growled his revised demands.

“Fine,” Virgil laughed. He only intended to scare him like that once, anyway.

“Jump the next one backwards, I want to see,” Roman requested, much less crossly this time.

“You’re an absolute madlad,” Virgil shook his head and complied. Roman cheered excitedly and Virgil faced forward again before landing. Maybe it was worth it to make him this happy. Roman’s enjoyment was addictive. He really didn’t feel things by halves.

—

Roman groaned on the living room couch at Deceit’s. It served him right for telling Virgil to speed up. Virgil smiled and wrapped Deceit up into his arms and cherished kissing him ‘hello’. Deceit hummed happily and kissed back.

“You wanted to get here fast, Princey,” Virgil sassed Roman after pulling away. Virgil smiled like an idiot, happy to be back in Deceit’s arms and held him close.

“I also wanted to keep my intestines where they are, but I suppose it was too much to ask,” Roman groaned, grabbing a throw pillow and falling over, holding it tightly to himself.

“It’s just some lag, you’ll clear up in a moment. I’ll get you some cold water,” Virgil said and kissed Deceit’s temple before letting go to grab one of his mugs from the cabinet. Virgil dispensed some ice water from the fridge for Roman and tossed Roman’s food in the fridge. Virgil put it down on the coffee table for Roman when he got back up and deposited the bag on the floor. He yanked Deceit down on to the couch with him, wrapping his arms around Deceit and pressing a kiss into his neck.

“So what did you bring to drink, darling?” Deceit asked, eying the backpack next to Deceit’s coffee table.

“Whiskey, tequila, and rum,” Virgil smiled into Deceit’s hair.

“You did always prefer having options,” Deceit smirked. “The French braid is cute, love,” Deceit angled his head to steal another kiss. “You’ve only got 30 minutes until you can’t play anymore, so perhaps you should serenade us while Roman’s intestines settle back into place,” Deceit smirked when Roman failed to throw a punch at him and moaned weakly into the couch again.

“Promise you’ll take us back to the dorms slower, you rapscallion,” Roman groaned pitifully, pointing shakily to Virgil.

“We can take a car back if you want,” Virgil offered. He didn’t mind going slower, Roman was the one who wanted to speed up in the first place.

“Don’t even talk about motion right now,” Roman grumbled. He was the one who brought it up, but Roman was the one suffering. Virgil stroked Roman’s hair gently, feeling bad for him.

“If you throw up on my couch you are cleaning it up,” Deceit said haughtily, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s arm.

“Okay, I’ll throw up in your shoes,” Roman shot back. A-plus rebuttal. Deceit glared at Virgil for that errant thought. Virgil just smiled smarmily back.

“Do you want to lie in bed, Ro?” Virgil asked, checking on Roman as he stroked his hair.

“If you lift me again you die,” Roman hissed weakly. It was so damn cute when humans pretended to be scary. Deceit chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll carry you, you massive idiot,” Deceit rolled his eyes and got up, scooping up Roman slowly and taking him into the bedroom. Roman whined feebly, but he probably wanted to lie in bed or D wouldn’t have bothered moving him. Virgil got up and headed to the spare room to grab his violin and checked on it carefully. He made sure the strings were tuned and ran the bow across them, checking on the sound. Virgil walked over to the bedroom and Roman was laying back, looking much less distressed, and Deceit was leaning back on the edge of the bed.

“Requests?” Virgil asked, picking somewhere in the room not too close to Deceit to start playing.

“Partita No. 2,” Deceit suggested smoothly, crossing his legs.

“I haven’t touched a violin in over a month and you want me to play that?” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I doubt you’re out of practice. Woo me, love,” Deceit smiled and folded his hands, the challenge clear in his tone.

“You just like torturing me,” Virgil huffed and pulled the violin in position to play.

“I never said I didn’t,” Deceit smiled and Virgil stood upright and started to play.

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Despite Everything - Dick Grayson

Anonymous said:

Hi there :) Can I request a Dick Grayson Titans imagine where the reader is his girlfriend but went missing years ago. He looked everywhere to find her and that's how he ended up on Detroit. And when him and the others are in the asylum the find her and take her to the Safe House. He tells everyone about them and still loves her. So things get weird because Kory has this thing for him?? Thank you very much :)

He couldn’t believe the sight before him. It had to be the drugs they had injected him with or the adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was simply no way that the crumpled form in the cage before him could be the girl he loved. Yet, despite the too visible bones and the tangled knots of hair, Dick Grayson could make out the familiar wide eyes of the love of his life.

Rushing forward, ignoring the shouts of Rachel and the questions from Kory, Dick kicked at the cage door. With each strike of his limbs he was taken back to the years he had spent searching for her. Bruce was certain that it was the Joker, as he was blinded by his own rage. Dick never once believed him, conducting his own search that lead him to the wrecked suburbs of Detroit. Whoever, whatever, took Y/N from him would pay.

Just as the metal bars of the cage holding you hostage were paying, bending under the heft of his kicks. You were curled up, your arms folding over your knees to make yourself small. All Dick wanted was you back, back in his arms and in his life.

“Y/N!” He shouted as your confines finally gave way. A clang sounded as the metal hit the floor of your cage. “Come here, Y/N, it’s me.” Leaning down into the cage with arms outstretched towards you, Dick called out to you. His voice, soft an sweet; just as you had remembered it. Pulling your head up, you trailed your gaze down his face.

“Dick,” you whispered, voice hoarse from lack of use. Dick nodded reaching further inside. You began to unfold your tangled limbs, opening like a flower with your petals stretching towards a warm embrace. Dick’s strong hand gripped your forearm, carefully pulling you out of the cramped cell you had spent the last few years inside.

“It’s you,” he whispered softly, a trembling hand brushing your now longer hair from your face. As you studied his features, the face of your boyfriend started to become more clear. You remembered him a bit younger, a bit happier and with less lines of exhaustion in his face. Despite the wearing of time and the undoubted stress your disappearance placed on his shoulders, the man before you was unmistakably Dick Grayson.

“I-It is,” you said in reply, fighting the urge to fall into his arms. Dick’s brown eyes, committing each new detail to memory.

“I’m never letting you go again.” His words lingered in the air with the raging alarms ringing around you. You longed to stop time and stare into his eyes forever, but the rag-tag group that had followed him into your holding cell was stirred up into panic.

“Reunion later,” hissed a woman with bright magenta colored hair. She pushed past the two of you, her words seeming to pull Dick back into the present moment.

“She’s right,” he said urgently, “we can talk later. Let’s get you out of here.” Without a second thought, Dick extended his hand to you. As if it were some long-forgotten instinct, you entangled your fingers with his and let him lead you out of the Asylum.

You truly could not remember the last time you had been in a car. It must have been the last time you had felt free before you were taken. You had no recollection of how the people had caught you, only their never-ending questions remained in your mind. Even then, the questions were merely echoes as you watched the landscape of America’s Midwest region race past.

Watching your prison for the last...who knows how many years finally burn had been a sight to behold. Only, you couldn’t help but notice how something had shifted in Dick’s presence. He hadn’t been by your side, but rather burning his old suit. You had held his hand while the last bits of Robin’s identity melted away, the eyes of Dick’s new friends watching on.

While the magenta haired woman drove, you sat beside Dick. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you stared out the window; as well as the eyes of the two teenagers he was traveling with. It seemed to you that, while you were imprisoned, Dick had developed a taste for friends with hair in vary shades of the rainbow.

“I can feel you staring,” you whispered only loud enough for Dick to hear. You heard him shift in the seat beside you, prompting you to turn to face him. There was a slightly pained expression on his face and you felt a flood of guilt overwhelm you. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“I know you’re not,” he said calmly, “I can’t imagine...I’m just…you’re here.” You offered him a half-hearted smile, nodding along with his jumbled words. Watching as he curled his bottom lip into his mouth, you found yourself lost in hints of old memories. Long drives at night through the bright streets of Gotham with you clinging to Dick’s waist like your life depended on him. Sometimes, as you remembered, it felt like it did.

Dick reached out carefully, as if fearful if he touched you too quickly that you might break. You leaned towards his hand, giving him a sense of encouragement. His nimble fingers gently grazed your cheekbone as he brushed your mop of hair from your face. You couldn’t wait until you could cut it, trim it back to the way it was before; you only hoped you’d feel like yourself again soon. For your sake and for Dick’s.

“I looked for you,” Dick said suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts. “The moment you were taken from me, I never stopped.” His voice faltered as he spoke, hinting at the years of pain that must have mirrored your years to torture in some fashion.

“Dick,” you said softly, reaching your own hand up to trail your fingertips across his chin. He shivered at the contact as the touch tugged him along a stream of memories. Images of mornings in bed and tangled limbs with your hands tracing his skin.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he added as his eyes closed, savoring your touch.

“I missed you too, we don’t have to miss each other now.” Dick’s eyes opened, bunches of unanswered questions lingered on the tip of his tongue; but all he wanted to do was hold you. He leans towards you and you felt a rush of blood to your face as you realized what he wanted.

“Dick, I don’t-”

“We’re back,” a voice interrupted, causing Dick to turn his head towards the front of the car. The woman had pulled into a large parking garage, one that winded up and on forever. As Dick began to direct her to a spot, you took a sigh a relief.

You wanted to be able to be with Dick again. To kiss him like you remembered, to love him like you knew you did before. Something had turned sour in your soul during your stay at the Asylum. The testing may be triggered it, the trauma enforcing it. You felt that you would need time and that Dick was running short of it.

“So, do you want to introduce us to your friend?” The green haired boy’s question broke the seal of silence that had fallen over the room. The blue haired girl, Rachel as Dick had called her, showed her mother to a room, leaving the remaining four of you in quiet.

“This is Y/N,” Dick said after clearing his throat. He turned his brown eyes to you, giving you a supportive half-smile. You turned to Gar, the green haired boy and Kory, the magenta haired lady, and nodded.

“We were dating, Dick and I. I worked with Batman as well and apparently that put me in the sight of the people that took me. At least, that’s what I pieced together.”

“You two were an item?” Kory asked, her arms crossed over her chest. Her unnaturally bright eyes were glued on you, her face expressionless as she spoke while her tone was tinged with cold. You nodded and she shifted, sparing Dick a brief glance.

“You worked with Batman too!? When can I?” Gar groaned, throwing his arms up in the air as he walked over to the couch. You furrowed your brows at the boy before turning to Dick.

“He doesn’t get it,” he replied, “no one knows Bruce like we do. I’ve tried to tell him before.” You nodded, falling silent until Dick’s voice picked up again. “So you don’t remember anything?”

“No, n-not really. It’s been so long and they...they gave me drugs like they did to you. I think they messed with my memory over time, some side effect, I don’t know.”

“What a well of knowledge you are,” Kory huffed. Her words struck a chord for you and you swallowed the hurt that gathered in your throat.

“Kory,” Dick said harshly, glaring at her.

“You don’t find it odd that the same people that wanted Rachel took the time to capture your old flame? Something isn’t right in the way that’s connecting.”

“She’s right,” you whispered, staring at the surface of the table before you, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. “Something isn’t right. I’m a liability. They could have other sects out looking for me. I should…” You pushed your chair back away from the table and stood up.

You ignored Dick’s call as you strode up the stairs and into one of the empty bedrooms. Leave it to Bruce for backups, as all the dressers were stocked with varying sizes of clothes. You grabbed a bag tucked away in a closet and busied yourself with packing.

Kory was right, you could feel it. You didn’t want to put anyone’s life at risk, especially not Dick’s. Not after all the trouble he went through trying to find you. You could bear missing him if you knew that it meant he would be safe from the people that had captured you. However, the thought of Dick’s safety gave you little comfort as you tucked clothes away, tears escaping your eyes as you did.

“Y/N!” Your name fell from Dick’s lips, laced with urgency, “what are you doing? Y/N, stop. Talk to me.” You heard him take steps closer to you but you continued to pack away things you might in on road. “Look at me….please.”

“Dick,” you said, turning to face him. You saw the hurt etched into the lines on his face. His expression brought fresh tears to your eyes, prompting you to look away from him to hide your face from him. Your voice shook as you began to speak up. “She’s right. It’s not right, I’d put all of you in danger and I can’t...I can’t do that to you.”

“We will always be in danger,” Dick started, “it comes with the job title.”

“You burned that title away last night,” you countered. Dick fell silent, his eyes falling from yours to the floor. You swallowed back your tears, “you deserve to move past it, all that Bruce did to us. He trained us to be machines and no one should live like that. But if we stick together….people will know and we won’t ever escape it.”

“We’d be together. Doesn’t that matter?” You felt Dick’s warm hand encircle your wrist, tugging you towards him tenderly. You held out your other hand, pressing it against his chest to stop his movements. Knowing that if you got too close you’d be lost, you took a small step back.

“I-I’m not the same person that I was before. I don’t know...what they did…”

“Y/N, that doesn’t matter. You��re still you, you’ve just endured something that is unimaginably difficult to deal with. You’re not your trauma, Y/N. I never stopped, never will stop, loving you.”

“Despite everything? Despite the life we lead?” Dick let your hand drop from his, giving you a moment’s pause of worry. It wasn’t until his hands reached up to cup your face when you felt your breath return to you.

“Despite everything,” he repeated, pulling your forehead down to his lips. He pressed the lightest of kisses to your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “We can ease right back into what we were before. I’ll take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Dick,” you whispered, meeting his eyes once more. He wiped his thumbs across your cheeks brushing the tears away from your face. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” With that, Dick pulled your chest flush to his in a tight hug. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his lean torso, savoring the warmth of his body from under his clothes. In that loving embrace, a touch that you once thought you’d never be lucky enough to have again, it felt like all the scattered pieces of yourself finally fit back into place.

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