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draemgal · 8 months

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ill-fated ii | rhysand

tag-list | @cat-or-kitten @witchyxvirgo @aurors-things @piceous21 @wallacewillow0773638

as requested, part two of ill-fated | thank you for all of the love!

some warnings before we proceed: in this, tamlin wasn’t insane and treated feyre well! helion appreciation post. y/n is gettin that good good.

it had been a grueling twelve months. months spent with tear stained pillows and smeared mascara under your eyes.

twelve months previously, you had broken down in front of morrigan and cassian in the middle of rita’s, the two quickly ushering you to the house of wind.

twelve months since the pages of your fairytale marriage got ripped out and crumbled beneath the gods crooked fingers.

things were finally looking up. as a resident of the day court, you had felt like you found your place. the court is the opposite of your old home and you relished the light of your new home.

a home of your own, a home not yet broken.

you kept in contact with the rest of the inner circle, but never your ex-husband. they never dared to mention it and you didn’t dare to ask.

letters piled up in the mailbox all in handwriting that was all too familiar. the only time you touched them was when you used them to help keep your fireplace alight. it gave you satisfaction to see your name that he dared to address.

he still put his last name after yours.

you sat in the sun, letting it’s warmth envelope your body and radiate off your skin. your eyes closed, listening to the various birds in the treetops above you flutter and chirp about.

“did you hear?” a woman from beside you spoke in between bites of an apple.

you frowned at the interruption but welcomed the conversation. “heard what?”

“feyre is engaged to the high lord of the spring court!” she exclaimed dreamily, probably thinking about her own future wedding. “i hope i get invited, i’m so happy for her.”,

this was when your heart stopped. rhysand’s mate, rejecting the bond for her lover. something he wasn’t strong enough to do for you. hearing that felt like she was rubbing salt into a wound that had yet to heal.

she continued to talk and handed you a letter that you absentmindedly took all while zoned out in your own thoughts.

𖤓

you and helion had gotten close over your first year in his court. he helped you transition from night to day. he helped mend the wounds made by rhysand. he helped you to learn to smile and laugh like you used to.

and now he was inviting you to the celebration he was holding for tamlin of the spring court.

enclosed in the letter, he states that based on the terms of your relationship with him, he’d like you to attend. he reasoned that rhysand didn’t write back stating that he’d be in attendance and that if he decided to come, he would help you through it.

so here you were, dressed in a white and gold gown and sat next to the dark-haired high lord of the day court. you held a glass of wine, swishing nervously every couple of minutes. helion’s hand was casually slouched over your shoulder as he mingled with other high fae.

conversation stopped as a slew of dark shadows entered the room, revealing azriel.

under normal circumstances, you’d be overjoyed to see the shadowsinger once again. but you knew that behind him would be your ex-husband.

azriel met your nervous gaze and offered you a small, supportive smile. a gesture so small that if you hadn’t known him for as long as you did you may have missed it.

cassian was next, waltzing in with confidence that you wished you could physically bathe in. he held his head high before looking in your direction, grinning with pride that you had even bothered to attend tonight.

little did he know you didn’t attend because you were brave, you came because you assumed rhysand wouldn’t show up.

helion’s grip on you tightened and you knew you didn’t even need to look to see who just entered the room.

rhysand’s hair was messy and the bags beneath the violet eyes you once dreamed of looked as bad as they did when he returned from under the mountain.

you expected to see him look in feyre’s direction.

but he didn’t even so much as turn his head in her direction.

your body froze as his eyes locked with yours.

helion’s hand was now on your thigh protectively. he threw a smirk in rhysand’s direction and nodded his head in greeting.

“fashionably late as always, rhysand. how delighted i am to see you.”

rhysand didn’t offer a cocky comeback, no. his mask was completely off. he was fixated on you.

“y/n… may i have a word?”

helion looked down at you, mentally telling you with his amber eyes that he could handle it. you offered a reassuring kiss to his cheek and shook your head before slipping out of his grip and standing up.

“hallway?” you asked rhysand. your voice conveyed little to no emotion as you stared back awaiting his response.

without another word, rhys followed you out of the two grand doors and into the hallway. he stood with his back to the wall, crossing his arms and staring down at his shoes.

“i don’t even know where to start, y/n.”

“you can start with telling me what gave you the nerve to show up into my home after wrecking my old one.”

his eyes closed as he nodded, inhaling deeply as if to recollect his thoughts.

“i’m sure you’ve heard.”

you nodded, pursing your lips. “is that why you’re here? to treat me like a second choice? your poor mate rejected you so you go crawling back to your poor wife who’s just so lost without you?”

“y/n, please… it isn’t like that,” his deep voice trembled. “i have been driving myself insane. i go back to that night every second i’m awake, and when i’m asleep i dream of what i should have done. i fucking miss you. i fucked up. i’ll be the first to admit that. but… you wouldn’t understand.”

you scoffed and crossed your arms, looking up at him. “and why is that?”

“you’ve never experienced the feeling to have a mate, y/n. it fucks with you. it clouds your judgement.”

“it’s funny you’d say that, rhysand.” you jumped, helion’s voice from behind you surprising you as his familiar hand rested on your shoulder. “it’s actually hilarious.”

rhys’ lips formed a deep scowl as he sized up the high lord. “care to explain?”

“allow me to enlighten you, fellow high lord.” helion sighed, lazily smiling at you and brushing your hair behind your ear before looking back at rhysand. “i just think it’s funny that you justify your poor judgment by pulling the mate card, but i’m her mate and i cannot imagine bringing her into my home where i had a wife without having an adult discussion first.”

mate? you almost choked on air. you looked at helion, meeting his adoring eyes as they stared into you. he tugged on the invisible strings between your souls with a cocky grin. “i would have loved to have told you properly, but you must forgive me. i just had to let him know how good of a gift he gave me.”

“y/n…” rhysand pleaded for your attention, attempting to reach out for your hand but you only moved closer to helion.

“you know rhys, you’re wrong.” you mumbled through tears, a mixture of pain and overwhelming joy. “i can now say i know how you felt, but i still would have never done that to you.”

your voice was breathy and brittle but you continued. “i am sorry that you didn’t get to experience a relationship with feyre after all of this, but i was good to you. i did all in my power to make up for not being your mate. i spent so much of my love on you that i didn’t think i’d ever be able to love again.” you looked up a helion and cupped his face. “but i have a second chance. a chance with someone who would never disrespect the way you did.”

helion grabbed your wrists and pressed his lips to your forehead. “i’ll let you say your goodbyes, then we can discuss the elephant in the room.”

you nodded, wanting to get it over with and enjoy your time with your newfound mate, buy you couldn’t find it in your heart to leave rhysand like this.

as helion existed, you looked at your ex-husband.

“rhysand, i gave you the chance to be happy. i do not owe it to you to come back and fix what you willingly broke. but you owe it to me to be happy. i am truly and deeply sorry that things didn’t work out for us. i would have forever loved them to…”

rhysand nodded, sniffling and wiping his tears. “you will forever be the best thing that had walked into my life, y/n. i will regret what i did for as long as i live.” he choked on a sob as you wrapped your arms under his, resting your head on his shoulder and smoothing his hair.

“don’t say that, rhysand. i got a second chance, and you will to. but you need to let me go before you can heal. this is your chance.” you whispered into his shoulder, tears falling down onto his black shirt. his grip tightened around you and he cried into the crook of your neck.

“let me go, rhys. you’ll be okay. i promise.”

“i don’t know how, y/n. how do i let you go?”

you looked into his eyes and brushed a teardrop with your thumb.

“i asked myself the same thing when you left me for her, rhys. there is no easy way. you just have to. can you try for me, please?”

he sighed and sniffed, letting you go physically before walking a few steps away. he looked back at you, but you were already wiping your tears and heading back to see helion.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fic #rhysand x y/n #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhys x you #rhys acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand imagine #helion x reader

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Mondo Oowada x an effeminate male S/O

Request: Oml heyyy may I request a Mondo x male! S/O (imagine or headcanons i don't really know the difference dkfjlds) where the s/o is very feminine and tries to get Mondo to do feminine things? Painting nails, etc.

Of course! This was gonna be a head canon post but I just kept writing so I turned it into an imagine. The bullet points were getting too long LMAO, but it does include some personal headcanons throughout. And thank you for giving me my first ever request! Means the world to me! - Mod Kokichi

Imagine below the keep reading cut! SFW and no spoilers included~

Your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Tailor, you got teased a bit. It was inevitable. You were the new transfer student, fresh meat to pick on, and you were a dude in a skirt, a doubly enticing threat to bullies. Immature high-schoolers were always going to whisper and glare at the ones willing to step outside the norm.

On one of your first days there, during a particularly ruthless bullying session, the school’s hall monitor and student council president, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, stepped in after noticing the noise, breaking up the situation by standing between you and your oppressors.

“Bullying is not supported in this progressive and nurturing school environment!” Taka’s loud and volatile personality always made quick work of the school’s trouble-makers. He spun quickly around to you, inviting you to spend lunch at his table for your trouble.

You hesitantly agreed, but were glad you did in the end. That day, you met Taka’s best friend, Mondo Owada, a toothpick between his teeth and his feet kicked up onto the lunch table as he fixed his perfectly styled hair.

You immediately found him extremely attractive: the sharp jaw, the bit of chest hanging out the top of his tank top. Quickly, you fell into their little friend group full of excitable and extroverted men. There were random stragglers to your lunch table on certain days, with Akane and Shuichi tagging along occasionally, but the main staples that ate with you every single day were Fuyuhiko, Mondo, Taka, Kaito, and Nekomaru, subconsciously scaring away anyone who wanted to start shit.

You weren’t nearly as close to the rest of them as you were with Mondo, however. You often found yourself leaning against his chair, sharing your packed lunch with him, entranced when he laughed.

He found himself always hanging out with you, shootin’ the breeze, smoking up on the roof after classes, putting his hand around your shoulder when you told a joke that made him and Taka crack up at lunch. He kept many secrets of yours, and promised to take them to his grave.

When you came out to him as someone who likes men, he stuttered his response a little, but pulled it together.

“It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’, S/O, you can be sure your secret’s safe with me until you’re ready to tell everyone else.” Feeling the atmosphere become awkward out there alone on the rooftop, he quickly changed the subject “So, Ultimate Tailor, huh? Shit’s pretty sick. Seen some of your clothing designs out in the art wing’s showcase. Don’t tailors just tighten up and fix a person’s clothes, though?” You smiled at his interest in your field.

“Uh, yeah, normally I think they take in and size up clothes, b-but,” you put a hand to the back of your neck, nervous with his complete attention on you, “ I think some make designs from scratch, I have always loved making my own clothes. Maybe I should just be the Ultimate Fashionista instead of Enoshima…” you giggled, feigning envy humorously. Mondo smirked.

“Yeah, maybe you should. You gotta design me a new coat sometime. This one’s seen better days.” You both looked at the dirt caked at the bottom of his coat, permanent stains throughout, and loose threads hanging in random places.

“F-for sure!” You grinned.

Your days returned to normal, lunch together and group hangouts after school, but something was different...to Mondo at least. He had to admit, to himself only of course, that he felt a little jealous of you. You could just come out and tell him who you are inside. He could never be that open. He usually was the one keeping secrets, not expressing them. But then, he caught himself. Why should he feel jealous...he was a simple guy, he didn’t even have any secrets or desires to share, even with who would listen. He brushed it off as just his normal hot-headed mindset, and packed up his stuff in his bag for the day.

But the next few days, his eyes would linger on you even more, and he would become uncomfortable, his insides warm, his head clouded with that same envy tugging at his heart strings. In the hallway after last period, he kicked his locker, frustrated at this knot in his head and mind. What the fuck is up with him. Then it clicked…

“It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’.”

The next day, he pulled you out to the rooftop, his cheeks red and his heart beating wildly. You waited patiently, sitting down, figuring you were just in for another hang out session like usual, and pulled out your homework from third period, until he began to speak.

“L-look man, I have been thinkin’, ever since you told me you’re into dudes…”

Oh no...your head dropped expectantly. You felt like this was bound to come eventually, no matter what. He was this macho dude and hung around you all the time. It must be bothering him, ruining his rep-

“That shit takes heart, like I said before, and I owe you my truth too, r-right, since you trusted me with yours?” He startled you, looking for validation. Mondo only stuttered when he was pissed and screaming, but he looked nervous now, a look of begging to be understood that you empathized with all too well.

“I…” he looked out over the roof. Stop being a little bitch, Mondo, he seethed internally. “Fuck, I don’t know, man. I like you? I want us to be more than just friends. I mean, you’re cool as my bro, but…” He didn’t expect you to reach out and take his hand hesitantly, his cheeks flushing. You didn’t want his evident struggle to drag out until he blew a fuse.

“I think that sounds ‘sick’ ” you mused, taking up one of his favorite sayings. He nodded, a arm around your shoulder, unable to look you in the eyes. But he felt a wave of peace run over him.

Your close friends immediately picked up on this new relationship, seeing you lean on Mondo a little harder at lunch, Mondo’s blush as he rested his hand on yours over the table. Nekomaru slapped your shoulder loudly that first day as a new couple, almost shattering the bone there. He laughed, saying he couldn’t wait for you two to just finally admitted your feelings. A team works smoother when everyone is on the same page, after all.

Weeks passed, and inside school, there was little issue. It’s the 21st century. Most were accepting of your obvious relationship. Those bigots who weren’t didn’t try anything. No stupid ass student was picking on a dude with Mondo, Taka, Fuyuhiko, Kaito and Nekomaru at his back.

The problems started to arise when Mondo took you on rides on his bike, to his gang’s HQ or stomping grounds in general. That was the outside world, not an institution of modern and formal learning like Hope’s Peak. Japan itself was a little behind western society in terms of LGBT acceptance, and like the rest of the world, had a long ways to go.

With Mondo being the leader of a biker gang, a setting known for violence, masculinity, grit, toughness, and a yakuza-like brotherhood of men, it just wasn’t an environment most conducive to openly gay relationships, but no one in the gang dared to call out Mondo, knowing how hot-headed he is and ultimately respecting him as their leader. They owed him unconditional loyalty.

That was, until one day, a rather cheeky second-in-command saw you filing your nails, sitting in Mondo’s lap on a couch at HQ, and decided he’d had enough. He confronted you both in front of everyone, all eyes on you, making you shrink back into Mondo’s chest.

“Eh, boss. If you’re gonna have a dude in a fucking dress doin’ his nails and twirling like a princess on your dick, why not just date a chick? This is gettin’ a little embarassin.” He spoke angrily. Mondo was taken aback, not used to being challenged by his men, obviously the alpha of his pack. He paused, struggling to find a response.

“What’s the fuckin’ issue?! Like most of you idiots aren’t so close that you might as well be tuggin’ each other’s dicks anyway!” He spat defensively, refusing to take back talk from a subordinate. He looked down to your shaking form in his lap, seeing that you were obviously disappointed with his response and looked up at him with a bit of anger, tears at the corner of your eyes.

Why was he defending his rep, and attacking the man back? He should be defending the relationship, and pushing forward acceptance. It made you feel like he wasn’t proud of you, ashamed of what you two had become.

He saw this in your eyes and hated himself, changing his stance quickly. He scooped you up from under your thighs from his lap and set you on the couch beside him. He stood, stepping up to the out-of-line gang member, chest out, looking down on him with malice.

“Maybe you’ve forgotten your place, yeah? You forget who’s in charge? I’m involved with S/O, he’s with me, so he’s part of the gang. You’re gonna accept that, or there’s gonna be trouble to deal with, got me? What, you such a pussy that you can’t accept shit if it ain’t what you expect it to be?!” The second-in command cowered, breaking eye contact with Mondo, and the rest of the onlooking members returning to what they were doing. “Now, we got any other issues?”

When Mondo drove you home on his bike hours later, you sat behind him as always, but squeezed onto his waist a little tighter than usual, and his heart beat proudly, knowing for once he was sure he did the right thing. You two rode silently, you pecking his cheek before slipping inside your house. He walked back to his bike, blushing like mad, and you two texted all night.

The very next week, Mondo was over at your house for the first time, doing homework in your room. Well, that’s what you were supposed to be doing. Mondo wasn’t exactly the model student, much the the chagrin of his best friend Taka, and you just weren’t in the mood. And so you sat, him eating some chips from your pantry, watching you paint your nails on your bed, a towel to catch loose drips under your flattened out palm. You looked up to him, smiling at having his full attention on you as per usual when you were alone..

“Want me to paint yours next?” It just slipped out. You didn’t really mean it. A guy like Mondo wouldn’t want that, surely, but you figured it wouldn’t harm to tease him. To your surprise, he responded rather quickly.

“I seen Kaito walkin’ around this week with that shit on his nails. Maki apparently forced him to after he lost a bet to her. Didn’t look that bad, actually. Kinda looked sick with his jacket, all purple and shit,” he paused to think, “ fuck it, sure. But no pastel shit, yeah?” Your heart leapt with excitement. There’s no way you expected him to answer in a positive manner, but in this relationship, you quickly learned that you often underestimated Mondo, and let his macho-biker-gang persona leave you biased. You didn’t want people judging you by your sexuality or the eyeliner you wore, and suddenly felt hypocritical for ever pre-judging your big motorcylce-head of a boyfriend.

Mondo held his hands out after you finished, observing the slick coat of black polish that covered his once grisly and battered nails. Yes, you had to manicure them real quick to even get the polish to stick. They had dirt under them and the cuticles were disgusting.

“Hell yeah.” he simply spoke, smirking before pulling you in to lean on him as you finally pulled out your homework.

Weeks turned into months, and soon Mondo was watching you get your ears pierced again in a new place, then sitting in the chair to get his done. He took you, in turn, to get “ink that matched your bitchin’ sense of style” as he put it. The tattoo didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and certainly inspired you to design clothes that showed it off and accentuated it.

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tacgnologist · 3 years

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Corvus' Journal: Crow

/3:31 AM. Week after the end of Dawning. Cold, light snow./

So...I told you how I felt today.

I been waitin a while to write this one. I still can't believe I am. None o this feels real. I remember ya sayin the same thing just a few days ago...and that starstruck look in yer eyes when I told that bastard you was comin with me.

I only ever saw that look way back then. When we was just gettin to know each other again. Back when we had just found somethin new, somethin worth bringin back to them Techeuns to keep em busy. Somethin to keep us from bein sent on one way trips. Return ones for me.

Back when things was more...innocent.

Worst we had to come home to then was one o them pissed off Paladins, or Petra screamin somethin about keepin to our word.

Like we was teenagers that stayed out too late.

Like we was kids.

I'm sorry I didn't know how deep it went. I still am. None o us had any idea. Not Joylon, not Petra, not me. Nobody knew cept for Her. Damn monster. Even had ya locked up for it later like some kinda criminal.

And hell, you don't even remember none o that now.

It's probably better that way, even if nobody will just come out and say it. I know you feel like everybody is keepin ya in the dark. I'm sorry for that too. I wanna tell ya everything. I still just might.

But hell...I'm gettin off topic.

I didn't expect ya to feel the same way back. I ain't gonna lie. I was full prepared to embrace yer new life without us even remotely bein a thing. I even woulda took it on the chin if ya told me I was plumb crazy.

Yer a whole new person now, no matter what any o them think. I been tellin them for a long time that you wasn't ever a bad guy. It just plain ain't in ya. Me n Joylon both knew that.

They never believed me, hell, they started to come after me the same way they did you. It's why I live out here in the field now.

People get emotional when death's on the table. They start lookin for people to take it out on. Start lookin for faces and names.

Some of em even started to think I helped y-...the old you. They started to think I helped him do it. They forgot that Cayde was my friend too, and that I had to come down to the fact that that man I used to love, still did love...killed his ass dead.

I still ain't right.

But here I go, gettin off topic again.

I didn't wanna tell you how long I was huntin, searchin. I didn't want it to weigh yer decision to choose. You done had enough shit held over your head in the short time ya been here. Shit ain't right to do to somebody.

I knew you wasn't dead on Mars. You was the best damn pilot we ever had. And huntin for you, tryin to keep them all away from ya was the only way I knew how to make it up for walkin out when I finally had enough o her shit.

Yea, your-...no. HIS sister. She's always been a bitch. Gettin high on dreams o power and screwin with all our heads.

Boy, I'm real bad for not gettin to the point ain't I.

I...I love you. I always have. I promised not to cry when I wrote this, but...hell. The damn tears are gonna stain the page and shit.

I just...I didn't expect to hear it back.

I always been a damn pessimist, can't shit go wrong when you already expect it to. Crow's tendency.

And even now, after searchin and huntin and lookin after ya and you're here, right next to me, curled up safe and snug and warm in my bed, hell. I don't think Eva herself coulda gave us a better Dawning.

And...I...finally feel like I did what I been tryin to do this whole time. Keep you safe. Happy.

LOVED. You deserve to be loved. You always deserved it. Traveler knows ya didn't get any of it from Her. All them years o hell together finally feel like they ain't shit.

Like none of them monsters can ever get their claws back into you. Not Mara, not Riven, not Savathun...not even Spider, now.

He ain't nothin but an overgrown space tick anyways.

You n Glint both are safe now.

Me n Eastwood are gonna make damn sure o that. I promise.

Well...hell. I'm gettin tired, and I'm ready to finally hold ya close instead of writin about you here like some kinda weirdo.

Writins for Warlocks, anyways.

-Corvus Roth

PS: Reminder to actually give you all those Festival candies I been hoardin up. Way better than havin to leave em at ya ship wreck. I hope they ain't moldy.

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny crow #destiny fanfiction #spoilers;#writing;

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lampmeeting · 4 years

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The boys find old pictures of themselves as teens. It's all fun and games pointing out who had the stupidest haircut, worst acne, or embrassing clothing. All until they come across a picture of old, or should I say young, Rock and roll charles with his long 80's hair, sleeveless shirt, and half empty Jager bottle in his hand. They all burst into his office demanding an explantion of how someone so cool could end so lame.

okay this idea was SUPER juicy and i ended up writing…..a lot… hahah

—-

“Oh my fucking god.” Nathan buried his face in his hands and groaned. “How’d they even get this picture? I need to call my fucking mom.”

Dethklok passed around the latest People magazine, the cover of which boasted never-before-seen photos of the band members in their youth. The article started with a huge color photo of Nathan attending his senior prom in an ill-fitting dark purple suit and pink boutonnièreto match the dress of his date. Neither of them looked particularly excited or at ease.

“You look like a fuckin’ magician in that stupid ass suit,” Pickles laughed, and then turned the page and screamed. “For fuck’s sake!”

Murderface looked over his shoulder. “I wanna see!” He saw, and howled wildly. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Shut up! I was eighteen! It was LA! Snakes ‘n Barrels was just gettin’ off the ground and I needed coke money!” On the page, Pickles posed in high-waisted Daisy Duke shorts and a sleeveless flannel shirt tied in a knot just under his chest. His hair was feathered and his eyeliner was sharp. “It was just some modeling, it-it’s not a big deal!”

Skwisgaar and Murderface cackled, tears in their eyes.

“Wowee,” Toki giggled, “Pickle, I hopes you gets paid a lot.”

Pickles grumbled and flipped the page. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Oh, shit! Toki!” He held up the magazine. “What the hell, dude? This is metal as fuck.”

Toki hid himself and went pink all over. “Ohh, no, don’ts shows that, it’s embarrassings.”

“I definitely wants to sees dis,” said Skwisgaar, and when he got a look he put a hand over his mouth. “What in de fucks names of Odin? Is dat evens yous, Toki?”

“Yeah,” Toki sighed. The photo was of him sitting on a ratty sofa in some basement, giving the camera the finger. His hair was long and stringy and his face was painted white with black jagged lines coming from his eyes and mouth. Both of his forearms were covered in leather bands punched through with long metal nails, and his white undershirt was drenched in blood.

Nathan had come over to peek. “Woah, wait. When the fuck was this?”

Toki rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s back ins Norways. I thinks I was fifteen. Me ands my friend Runke was ins a blacks metal band together after I lefts home. We only playeds one shows, though, and we gots in trouble ‘cause we poureds pigs blood on the audience.”

Nathan chuckled under his breath. “Brutal. Good job, Toki. What’s on the next page, Pickles?”

Pickles turned to the next photo and snorted before he could stop himself. “Jesus, Skwisgaar.”

Skwisgaar’s expression went sour and drained of color. “Ah, fucks.”

Skwisgaar must’ve been eleven or twelve in the photo, and he smiled with a mouthful of braces. He wore a tall white cone on his head covered in gold stars. and held a big gold star on a stick.

Murderface stuck out his tongue. “Why’re you dressed like a weird sad clown fairy?”

“Is Swedish traditions,” Skwisgaar said pointedly. “My mother always mades me dress as stjärngossefor Sankta Lucia. I…don’ts wish to talk abouts it.”

The rest of the band eyed him curiously, not knowing what to say. Pickles flipped slowly to the next photo to reveal none other than Murderface staring back at them.

“AHH!” Murderface tried to grab the magazine but Pickles jumped away and kept it out of reach. The others followed in order to get a good look. “No, no! Don’t you fucking look at that!” Skwisgaar took the magazine from Pickles so he could hold it even higher while Murderface scowled and gnashed his teeth.

The photo showed Murderface, no older than sixteen or seventeen, standing in someone’s backyard in a flame-print bathing suit and a neon green muscle shirt tucked in. Beside him, on the ground, was an old mattress covered in either dirt or blood stains, or maybe both. He flexed at the camera and tried to look tough through the whisper-thin mustache and zits.

“I knew it!” Pickles whooped. “I knew you had a fuckin’ backyard wrestling phase!”

“What was your ring name?” Nathan asked. “Lemme guess–Junk Yard Hog? The Dick Break Kid? Mr. Imperfect? Oh oh! Bret Fart.”

Murderface seethed, his cheeks red.“You’re all a bunch of fucking assholes.”

“GUYS!” Skwisgaar screamed, bringing the magazine back down for them all to see. “Guys, guys, looks at de last photos! Looks at whose ams on dere!”

Everyone leaned in to see. The final photo was a young man about eighteen, maybe nineteen, with long brown hair teased to hell and back. He wore a black bandana around his forehead, ripped jeans with boots, and a black Slayer tee from their Show No Mercy tour in ‘84 with the sleeves torn off. He held a bottle of Jägermeister in one hand and was throwing up the horns with the other, though his face was stern and serious.

Skwisgaar was covering the name underneath the picture. “Guess who dats is. I wouldn’ts has known without readings it.”

They all studied the man, trying to seek out anything at all familiar about him. Suddenly Pickles made a sound like he was going to barf. “THAT’S OFFDENSEN!”

They all stared harder, and then they were immediately on the move.

Less than five minutes later Dethklok came battering down the door to Charles’ office, interrupting him on the phone. He apologized profusely and put the call on hold to give the boys his full attention. “What’s, ah. What’s going on? You’re all in my office. At the same time.”

Pickles slapped the magazine down on his desk. “What. The FUCK. Is that.”

Charles recognized the photo, cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and mumbled, “…freshman in college.”

“How the hell is that you?” Nathan asked. “This guy’s fucking cool. This guy can fucking hang with us. Fucking SLAYER. You’ve actually listened to Slayer? Who the fuck ARE you? I don’t even know who I’m looking at right now.”

“It’s like you got swapped,” said Murderface. “Like some body snatcher came and got you. Where’s THIS Charles?”

“Ya!” said Skwisgaar. “We wants to sees this Charles more.”

“I’m still that Charles,” Charles said, brow furrowed. “I just, you know, had to finally be responsible. I grew up. Trust me, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be your manager right now. I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere. I, ah, wasn’t exactly on a good path.”

“Well, you could try and be more fun,” said Nathan. “You don’t have to be one extreme or the other.”

Charles sighed, exasperated and wanting to return to his phone call. He made the sign of the horns and the boys lit up. After some laughter and a little more teasing, they drifted slowly out of his office to find something else to do, except for Pickles who lingered back for a moment.

“Hey Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re not dead in a ditch.”

Charles gave a brief laugh and put the phone back to his ear. “Thank you, Pickles, me too.”

#my god these prompts are so fucking good thanks y'all!!!!!!#and there like 3 or 4 more to do ahhhhhhhhhh #i promise i WILL do them all #they really are all wonderful #my writing #Anonymous

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bapyess1r · 4 years

Text

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: SMUT, cursing, age difference, use of substance

CHAPTER 7

Sam’s POV

At this current moment, I was happy. I sailed on calm waters with some friends and a beautiful girl, laid out on the beach with the sun on my chest and caught a tan, splashed and dunked Talia in the ocean, I even bought a new shirt with a little guidance from my younger peers. Nobody was shooting at me, nobody had me tied up to die, and nobody was beating my ass. I took a deep breath and exhaled a bit of smoke from my nose, leaning back to close my eyes and take me a nice little beach nap. Savoring the moment, I listened to the bustle of fellow beach bums and the light crash of the waves hitting against each other, the sea birds calling to their flock. Light Jimmy Buffet songs in the background. Suddenly, a pleasing sensation of a woman’s hands in my hair. I betrayed myself and let out a soft moan as I heard Talia giggling above me. I cracked a smile and opened one eye to look at her. “You hungry? Marcel and Anna found a Cantina.”

“Mexican sounds fantastic right now...” I mumbled, her hands still massaging my scalp.

“Then get up.” She whispered before kissing my forehead. I groaned, grabbing her hands as soon as she stopped touching me.

“Just...a few more minutes.” I said leading her hands back to my hair.

After my private head massage, we shook the sand off of our towels and packed them into my backpack. I put my tee shirt back on and draped my white shirt over Talia’s magical bikini clad body. We walked off the beach, embracing each other as we made our way to the cantina.

We reached the restaurant, looking around for our friends. I spotted them by a stained glass window in a corner seated under a beautiful Spanish painting. The waitress arrived as we joined the table and immediately handed us menus. “Hola, welcome to the Cantina.” The woman spoke in a thick accent. I smiled to myself thinking now would be a great time to show off. I picked up a bit of Spanish during prison time. Probably the only useful thing that came from it. “What can I get for you?”

“Podemos ordenar en español si es más fácil para usted, señora.” I said lazily but politely. I could see the tension ease off of her a bit.

“Ah Gracias, señor. Qué será?” She grinned, readying her notepad. I looked at my friends and the looks on their faces was totally worth it. Talia’s lip bitten expression being the best. Everyone put in their orders and the woman even offered to throw in a Tres Leches cake for being sweet.

“Oh so we speak in Spanish now?” Marcel seemed shocked.

“I’m honestly surprised you’ve never heard me use it. As much as we grab tequila from that one bar up the way.”

“The fact that you believe in me enough to think I’d remember anything off of tequila is an honor in itself.” He responded with a chuckle. But he wasn’t wrong. We didn’t remember shit after a couple shots of tequila.

As we conversated over dinner, I felt something grace my leg. I briefly stopped chewing my food to look up at Talia who was engulfed in a conversation with her best friend next to her. I sat back a bit to see her foot running up the inside of my leg. I sat forward and continued to eat as I felt a burn creep around my ears. I tugged on one as I coughed, her foot running higher. I tried my best to fight the hard-on coming up as I dropped a hand and let it run over her smooth leg. She jumped a bit but not enough for anyone to notice but me. As I tried to pay attention to the conversation, I rubbed a thumb over her ankle as she pressed on my ever growing boner. I flared my nostrils and took a deep breath, tightening my grip on her ankle. With that, she turned to look at me and placed a hand on my forearm. “Are you ok?” She asked me in the most innocent voice. ‘Oh you’re goood…’ I thought with a breathless laugh.

“I’m fine. Just uh… starting to get a little tired…” I answered, raising a brow at her and playing with the food on my plate. The girl knew exactly what she was doing to me.

Eventually, we finished eating and walked it off down the boardwalk. Luckily, my boner had gone down in time but I definitely planned on getting her back for that. I tangled my fingers in hers as we watched the sun set before us down the street and into the city. As the night rolled around, we stumbled across a bunch of people dancing at a beach bar. Immediately, the girls dragged us out there and ordered us shots. We took enough to wanna dance without anyone caring or judging. We just danced to every single song that played. Then they began to play a slow song. A Tears for Fears tune. I wrapped Talia’s small frame in my arm, securing her hand close to my chest, our foreheads resting one another’s. I loved the feel of her as we swayed to the music. She was just right and I wouldn’t have her any other way. Her free hand on my shoulder began to stroke a sensitive spot on my neck and my breath grew heavy. I let my nose brush across her cheek bone and spoke softly into her ear, “You know what you did to me at dinner was very rude…” She just grinned and I could see a devious glint in her big brown eyes for a moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She responded, pleading the fifth with a smirk. With one of her hands still in mine, I ran a rough finger across her jawline and underneath her chin.

“I’m definitely gonna have to punish you for that.” I said in almost a low growl. She gave a frustrated sigh, looking up at me with such need. The need was absolutely reciprocated and I couldn’t talk us into going home fast enough. I needed that time with her. We deserved that time with each other.

After a while, we ended up back on the boat to go home. We were still drinking as I steered us back to our neighborhood. Technically what I was doing now was illegal. Drinking and driving if you will. But there was little boat traffic and by God’s grace we made it. We hung out at my place for a while before Marcel stood up leading Anna to the front door. My man, Marcel. He was definitely taking her home.

Talia’s POV

Anna stood as Marcel led her to the front door and I sat up a bit. “Don’t worry about getting her back to the hotel tonight. I’ll take care of that.” He said, eyeing her and turning to get the door.

“I’ll text you tomorrow!” She cheered before being extra behind his back. “I’m gettin’ some dick toniiight!” She mouthed to me, humping the air as she closed the door with a laugh. I covered my mouth as to not distract Marcel from his mission but I laughed in silence with Sam. When the door closed, I stood to make another drink as Sam lit himself a cigarette.

“I guess it’s just you and me now…” I began, not realizing I had just poured myself 75% rum and 25% coke. I was too drunk to care and sipped on it anyway. I strutted around to the music playing on the radio, looking over his living room and all of the interesting things in it, softly running my fingers up his arm that rested on the back of the couch and across both shoulders. He grabbed my hand and kissed it sweetly as I brought my attention to the wall of books where he’d caught me the first time. I walked towards it and pulled a random book and began to read it where I stood. “A History of Piracy…” I read aloud. I opened it up to a random page on some Viking pirate. The words practically leapt off the page as I read about what he did and where he hid his treasure. I was actually pulled in until I felt a pair of hands on my waist. He rested his head on my shoulder, swaying with me to the music as I continued to read with a smile. He ran his hands across my stomach and over my hips softly, his breath tickling my neck causing me to move my head. He began kissing it sweetly and I giggled. “You know this book, as interesting as it is, it’s boring as fuck, right?” I teased, trying to keep my composure as he touched me.

“That’s because you picked one of the boring ones.” He growled, licking the shell of my ear and nipping at my neck, pulling his shirt down my shoulder to lead kisses across my back. Each one gentle and firm, sending a streak of shivers down my back as he pulled on the string of my bikini. I threw my head back onto his shoulder in pleasure, his hands running underneath the shirt to touch any skin he could. He kissed up the other side of my neck as my breasts fell free. I could feel his bulge pressing against my back as he kissed up my jaw and eventually turning me around to embrace me and lock his lips with mine.

His kisses were sweet, gentle and needy. My hands caressed either side of his face as he traced his thumb over my lips. I bit it a little before licking it and taking it whole in my mouth. “Fuck…” he grumbled, crashing his lips into mine once more with passion. He ran his hands down my back to grab a handful of my thighs, slapping my butt which prompt me to jump. I wrapped my legs around his waist when he lifted me, pulling his shirt over his head. He kissed me gingerly as he carried me to his room. As he laid me down on his bed, I began to take the shirt off but he stopped me. “No, no… keep it on. You look sexy like this…” he moaned as he hovered over me, planting deep kisses in the crook of my neck. He ran a hand from my cheek down to my waist, hooking it around me and pulling me closer. I began to fiddle with his trunks but he stopped me then as well with a smile. “My god, you’re eager.” He said and I only nodded in response. “I wanna take my time with you, Talia… I wanna make you feel good… Let me do that for you.” He breathed as he led wet kisses and nips all the way down to my bikini hem, gripping my thighs hungrily. Just when I thought he would lick the honey pot he brought himself to his knees before me and parted my legs. He began to trail slow, agonizing kisses from my ankle all the way up to my knee, licking the inner thigh and biting a spot right next to my sex that made me whimper. I could feel the vibration from his mouth as he laughed at my reaction. And then he started with the other leg. I rolled my eyes back enjoying the sensations he was giving me.

“Sam please…” I whimpered as he kissed achingly close to my center.

“Patience, Princess.” He answered, slowly pulling on the string at my hips that undid my bottoms. I hissed as I felt the cold air on my wetness and smirked. “All of that for me, baby girl?” He asked, spreading me apart with his fingers, he let a rough thumb run up and down my slit, teasingly letting it grace my clit. I let out a shaky breath. He was being so slow about it, savoring each touch and memorizing each reaction. He sent kisses up my leg once more before licking a long strip up my center, making me suddenly vocal. “There she is…” he said before diving in. Up until this point, I had been pretty silent. He licked and sucked away quite expertly as he threw my legs over his shoulders, his muscular arms wrapped around my waist to hold me down. I wasn’t going anywhere. He ate with such a passion, like he’d discovered a new taste. And as he shoved his tongue inside, I felt a shock flow through me as I grabbed handfuls of the comforter beneath me. I was a moaning mess. Suddenly, he stood up, my legs still over his shoulders, holding me tightly by my waist as he lifted me up. I dug my fingers in his hair, tugging every time he hit a sensitive spot. He walked to a nearby wall, pressing my back against it as he continued to eat with such fervor.

“Sam, Sam, Sam- you’re gonna make me-” he interrupted me with a bite to my thigh and let me down.

“Not yet, Princess…” He said, kissing me, letting his tongue dart into my mouth to taste myself.

Sam’s POV

I guided her back to the bed, her lips still on mine as I shamelessly grabbed her perfect ass. I laid her down on the bed again, her hair settled around her head like an Angel. She was an absolute moaning mess beneath me. I could feel a smile crawl across my face as I undid a button to give me access to her chest. I kneaded a mound before taking a nipple between my lips, her skin still salty from the sea water. A moan escaped her perfect lips and kicked off my swim trunks. My dick was standing at attention, long and proud for her, pre-cum oozing from the tip. Eventually, I reached over to my nightstand to feel around for a condom. Once I got it, I tore the packet with my teeth and rolled it over my length. It was much more monstrous than normal. I cursed just looking at it. I kissed an ankle before parting her legs and moved in between them to trail kisses from her breasts to her neck, my tip gently brushing against her entrance. She bucked her hips up to feel it more as I ravaged her with worshipping kisses. As I pushed into her, she belted out a soft whine. I smirked as it was only the tip. She ran her nails down my chest and rested her hands on either arm, her eyes swirling with lust and need and desire. With a deep kiss on her lips, I allowed the rest of myself to fill her up. I let out an unexpected moan as I felt her tightness around me. She ran her fingers across my scalp before grabbing a handful of hair tightly as I pushed in and pulled out of her with a slow rhythm. “Harder.” She whispered breathlessly. Almost instantly, I snapped my hips into hers and she reacted with a high pitched noise that gave me some sense of pride. I needed to hear it again. I repeated until she pulled my face to hers. “Faster.” She demanded. And I smirked with a dark chuckle.

“Yes ma’am…” I pulled out briefly and turned her over on all fours without much effort. She gave a lusty giggle as I slapped her ass rather hard before inserting myself again. And I began with a quick rhythmic pace. I grabbed myself a fistful of her long curly black hair, wrapping it around my hand and giving it a slight tug, making her arch her back. My breathing grew heavy and something animalistic took over at the sight of her beautiful shape coming through my shirt. The fingers of my free hand dig into her upper thigh as I rammed into her repeatedly, a fire running through my body. And she would let out cries of pleasure, mini squeaks, and breathless moans. I ran my hand down her back and cupped her neck, guiding her back to my chest as I continued pumping. I wanted to see her face as she came. “Cum for me, princess. I wanna hear you cum.” I whispered in her ear, one hand at her throat and the other playing with her clit as I drove into her madly. She was shaking all over and the look on her face was more than worth it. She let out a loud moan as I peppered her cheeks and neck with kisses. “Yes, princess, let it go… let go for me, baby.” I spoke to her, coaxing her orgasm to fruition as I felt a burn in the pit of my stomach. In an instant, I felt her tighten around me and she cried out weakly. Right behind her, I shot off inside of her, letting her walls milk me until I couldn’t take anymore.

She laid down causing me to pull out and my body fell right next to her. We were both heaving and trying to pull ourselves together when she laughed. She turned over to me with a smile and kissed me. Nothing crazy. Just a short and meaningful kiss. I caressed her cheek as I kissed her back, letting my free hand stroke circles on the skin of her hips. “That was-”

“Incredible. I agree.” I said interrupting her with a chuckle as I stared into her shining brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat as she smiled.

“I’m glad we did this.” She said, pushing stray hairs off of my face.

“Me too…” I said, staring into the ceiling as I took off my condom and tied it off, lazily throwing it on the floor beside the bed. I had gone and done it now. I let myself fall for her in a short period of time. But then I remembered our conversation on the boat… “Did you really mean it?” I asked.

“What?” She said propping herself up on her elbows to look at me. And I turned towards her, leaning on an arm.

“What you said on the boat. About you leaving with me. Did you mean it?” I asked. I would love nothing more than a traveling companion that could handle herself.

“If you asked me to hop on a plane with you right now, I would absolutely say yes. And not just because we just had sex.” She chuckled. “I want to experience those adventures you tell me so much about with you.”

“Ok… but if you go, you have to play by my rules and listen to everything I’m telling you. If anything ever happened to you I-”

“Nothing is gonna happen to me, Sam. I’ll have you.” She said sincerely. “When’s your next job?”

“No offense, sweetheart, but you’re absolutely in no shape to come along on my next job.” I chuckled, admiring her thin frame. “You have much more preparation to be done.”

“Nuh uh!” She grinned, slapping my chest as I pulled a blanket over naked bodies and pulling her close. “I have dancer’s muscles.”

“Dancer’s muscles are not the same as climbing muscles, princess.” I told her, kissing her forehead and playing with a random strand of curls in her hair. “Lift some weights, do some pull ups, maybe a few sit ups. Then perhaps we’ll be in business.” She sucked her teeth at me and pouted. “Hey. I’m gonna help you out. Don’t worry. I’m not getting another job for a couple of months. I’m getting older and that means longer recovery time so you have me for a few months before I need to leave again. We’ll go running in the mornings, practice a few songs together, we can hit the gym. Can you fight?”

“I’ve lived in New York almost all my life, what do you think?” She fired back. I laughed aloud.

“I think you hit hard but you don’t control it very well. I could teach you a bit of boxing. We can go to the Rock and I can teach you how to climb properly…” I began laying out a plan for her preparation and all she did was sit and listen as I rambled on about all that went into my job. “Can you shoot?” I asked her. When she didn’t answer, I looked down at her to see her gently snoring in my arms. I chuckled. We had a long day. “Goodnight, Talia…” I said kissing her forehead before drifting off to sleep myself.

#sam drake #sam drake x reader smut #samuel drake #samuel drake x reader #uncharted #uncharted 4 #uncharted smut #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake smut

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theateared · 4 years

Text

What’s Wrong With You? ❜

Summary: There's a reason that Murr’s career is almost entirely self-made. Warnings: N/A.

His eyes were drawn to the sticky mess covering the floor. What was left of his pudding cup had been smacked out of his hands, plastic spoon snapping painfully under the weight of a hefty palm. With disbelief, Murr shifted his gaze to look his manager in the face.

“What the hell? What’s WRONG with you?! I was just tryna enjoy a snack befer gettin’ back t’work!”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU?! You know that stuff will only make you fat. We’ve had this conversation a million times!”

The words stung more than he cared to admit-- not necessarily because of their implication, but because of his own struggle with an eating disorder. It had taken him a hell of a long time to get into good habits, and though he wouldn’t fall back into bad ones for the sake of one comment, it did make the gears in his head turn in that all-too-malignant manner.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe one cup won’t matter, but one cup everyday? Maybe that will matter.

After taking in a subtle breath, steadying the slight incline of his heartbeat, he replied in a calm but firm tone: “Yer bang outta line, Zach. However ya feel, ya can’t just go hittin’ shit I paid fer outta my hands.” He cut his manager off with a tut as he spotted a dark stain forming on his shirt. “Yeesh, y’owe me dry-cleanin’ money...”

The sound of the dressing-room door slamming shut made Murr look up at him. Only now was he beginning to feel slightly worried.

Zach hadn’t been his first choice for a professional opinion. However, when they’d met while he was working in Vide, the man had wormed his way into Murr’s good graces with his patience and humour. On the surface, he was mild-mannered and fun, somewhat quirky to boot, but Murr had soon realised that he wasn’t really the person that he thought he was. His fuse was short, he was a control freak, always wanting to micromanage every tiny decision he made about his productions, and he was aggressive. Though he’d never laid his hands on him, Murr suspected that that much would change - and he wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re just so fuckin’ UNGRATEFUL! You think you can do whatever you want just because some people know who you are! You eat shite! You don’t take care of yourself! You drink and smoke like an idiot! You don’t think that shit’s going to ruin your look? Your VOICE?”

“Listen, yer not my fuckin’ dad. Back off ‘n’ mind yer own damn business, alright? I ain’t yer DOG, Zach, y’can’t tell me how t’live.” He turned his back on the man then, eager for the argument to fizzle out. Hands searched his desk for his revised script, darting past a celebratory bottle of champagne for after the show. Part of him knew that it likely wasn’t a good idea to show him that he’d made some last-minute changes to the play, but he was desperate to divert the focus elsewhere. He couldn’t stand being talked down to like a child. Not even his father spoke to him that way. “Look, I have some--”

“I don’t CARE, Murr!” He lurched forwards to slap the papers out of his hands, scattering them across the floor. The star stared at him at a loss for words, mouth half-open in a desperate attempt to neutralise the situation, when suddenly Zach’s hands entangled in his collar. He pulled him closer with a vehemence that startled the huro, horns bumping against his forehead as he was met with a furious glare. It smelled as if his manager had been drinking, a hint of whiskey hovering on his breath. “What do I have to do to get you to fuckin’ listen?”

“Let go’a me…!”

“YOU’RE SABOTAGING YOURSELF!”

“GET OFF OF ME!” His voice was shrill as he shoved hard at Zach’s shoulders. The man staggered away from him - and the momentum sent Murr staggering back into the dresser, an arm stuck out haphazardly to support himself. The adrenaline had kicked in by now; he felt like a bird trapped in a cage, one that flapped and cawed and squealed, and his father’s words ran through his head like a strike of lightning.

You know your worth, son. Always be kind, always be generous, but don’t bend.

Murr’s gaze darkened. You don’t treat me like that. Nobody treats me like that. I’m not something for somebody else to control. Slowly, he straightened his stance, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steel his nerves before he pointed at him firmly. “Don’t ever lay yer hands on me again.” His voice dripped with venom so potent that it gave the drunk man a moment’s pause. He couldn’t tell whether he was affronted by being told what to do or if he was seriously considering the fact that he was wrong-- and he didn’t care.

At least, he didn’t until Zach squared his shoulders and advanced on him. “Or what, huh? What’re you gonna do? Don’t forget that YOU’RE in MY debt! Who’s gettin’ your name out here in Vide, huh?”

“I AM!” Murr retorted angrily, a thumb jabbing into his own chest as he glowered at him without restraint. If looks could kill, a glare from Murr would send a man straight to hell. “Don’t take the credit fer MY hard work! I’M the one singin’ ‘n’ dancin’ ‘n’ writin’ ‘n’ performin’ like a goddamn grease-monkey! This shit is MINE!”

“Like you’d ever get anywhere in Vide without a Vvder’s help!” Zach bit back, getting closer to him with every step. I’m going to punch this huro’s teeth in. I’m going to bend his stupid fucking horns until they snap. “You’re NOTHING here! You huros are all the goddamn same-- you’re all so PROUD.”

“Get away from me, Zach.”

“You’re all so EAGER to KISS YOUR OWN ASSES! You all pretend to work hard, but the only things you’re ‘fixing’ are the problems that you made yourselves, because your district is founded on false generosity and LAZINESS--”

“That’s NOT true!” Murr barked. Really, this realm wasn’t a great one. Though it was wondrous and beautiful, with surprises at every corner, things that could never be found on Earth, its people were so angry and hateful. Though Valor’s quest had done a lot to quell a lot of bigotry, it also wasn’t magically erased in one day. There was still a lot of work to be done-- which was precisely why Murr felt it appropriate to defend his district. It wasn’t out of patriotism; it was a direct response to a racist ideology that viders perpetuated every day. Even in spite of The Crossover, their districts very much conjoined at this point, some viders still fed each other the same dastardly lies like Nazis did with Jews.

Unacceptable. Disgusting. And what makes it worse is that you yourself are doing it. There’s no Big Bad making you think these things, or say these things-- you’re just terrible, and unwilling to learn.

Distracted, he fell when Zach’s hands met his chest in the form of a hard shove. For all of the grace that he possessed on stage, he tumbled to the ground like a sack of bricks, confused and dazed, staring up at him with a stupefied sort of silence. His manager wasn’t a very imposing man. He was a little smaller than him, and his stature was nothing to write home about, skinny like a weed; however, towering above him like that, with the intention of hurting him, Murr’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. Just as Zach drew back his arm for a punch, Murr hurriedly reached up, fingers coiling around the thick glass of the bottle and dragging it into his lap. Without even thinking about it, he hit it against the leg of his dresser, splintering the glass and spilling champagne all over himself and the floor. The jagged end was brandished like a weapon, teeth grit in a furious sneer, malicious intent clear.

In a fierce scream: “I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME--”

The dressing room fell silent then. The lights surrounding his vanity mirror were the only source of illumination ( he found it easier to proof-read and edit in dimmer places ), their space bathed in a baby pink glow. In any other context, one might have deemed it romantic; instead, Murr regarded it with the same quiet dread that he might a red room.

Slowly, Zach raised his hands, backing off. “... I’m drunk.”

“You’re fired,” Murr hissed in response, trying hard to hold back the urge to cry. Far from a crybaby he was, but adrenaline had a funny way of reducing him to tears. He was overwhelmed when it kicked in; torn between lashing out in furious anger and crumpling in on himself with unrelenting sorrow. He’d always been emotional like that. “Just go.”

“But--”

“I said GO!” He didn’t think about it as he hurled what remained of the glass into the nearby wall. The noise startled the other into a hasty retreat, the door barely flung shut as he disappeared from Murr’s life for good.

In the newfound quiet, Murr sat still. Slowly, he brought his knees up to his chest, chin settling atop them as his arms coiled around them like a snake. He didn’t cry. He didn’t yell. He didn’t work. He just sat there, willing his heartbeat to slow down, willing his eyes not to fill up, willing himself not to run back home to his parents now that his dream was almost within his grasp. They had too much faith in his ability to abandon the position he’d found himself in. Manager or not, he’d make his way in this district, and he’d do it despite all of the naysayers that expressed their doubt in him.

You can’t make it in Vide without a vider’s help, huro. Fuck that. I can do it.

After a few minutes to collect his bearings, hands no longer shaking, Murr slowly unfurled from his position on the floor, hands and knees climbed to as he searched for the pages his ex-manager had struck out of his grasp.

His heart sank when he was met something wet and soggy.

With mounting grief, the star slowly turned one of the sodden pages over. It fell to bits in his grasp, ink that had formed words now a blurred mess. He didn’t need to look at the others to know that they had all met a similar fate.

Tiredly, Murr sank back into his previous position, huddled in front of his dresser, the rosy light only touching the tips of his shoes; a black mark in the blushing light.

The show’s tomorrow morning. I’m screwed.

#🞮 — i think you're gonna be my biggest fan! ❜ ( murr. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ JUST SOME DEETS ON ONE OF MURR'S PAST VENTURES!#AND HIS DICKHEAD OF A MANAGER AT THE TIME!#THSI IS THE FIRST PROPER THING I'VE WRITTEN IN A WHILE AYYY #might be gettin over that block!

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waywardaardvark79 · 4 years

Text

Come Back to Me: Part 4

Summary: Y/N, a WW2 army nurse spends her days caring for and patching up injured soldiers. The last thing she ever expected was that one of the soldiers that she saved would steal her heart. A story of two people and the insurmountable obstacles they overcome to always come back to each other.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, character death, angst, injury, war flashback

Word Count: 3,955

A/N: Updates should be at least once weekly. No set schedule.

Flashback

"I'm so glad to see you, Chere." Benny said, as you pulled the chart from the end of his bed and scanned over it.

You chuckled as you flipped through the pages, "You saw me yesterday." you said, shaking your head. "I see you that you gave the night nurse some trouble." you added, looking up at him.

Benny scoffed, "She gave me some trouble, more like it." he said.

You sighed as you put the chart back in it's place at the end of his bed, "You know, they are talking about releasing you, letting you go back on duty soon, so if I were you I would do whatever the night nurse wanted. The doctor should be making rounds pretty soon." you said.

"So, you're tellin' me that if I behave myself I could be gettin' out of here?" he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

"I'm saying that if you behave yourself you might be getting out of here sometime soon." you said, not wanting to fill him with false hope.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see one of the doctors coming, "See, now here he comes." you said pointing the doctor out to Benny. "Best behavior." you added, before turning to face the doctor.

"Nurse Y/L/N." he greeted, nodding his head in your direction.

"Doctor." you replied, smiling politely at him.

"I need you to go along on a transfer. We have two patients waiting at one of the field hospitals near by. I've been assured that both of them are stable and should be able to tolerate transport without any problems." he explained.

When you were stationed at the last field hospital you were in you had helped transport patients to fixed hospitals for recovery, so this wasn't something that was new to you, but you couldn't help but notice that part of you was hesitant to go.

"When do I leave?" you asked, hoping you would have enough time to track down Dean on the large base to explain to him where you were going.

"Now." the doctor said before reaching for Benny's chart. "There should be someone waiting for you outside, a driver." he added as he looked over the chart.

You nodded your head even though he wasn't looking at you, upset that you wouldn't be able to tell Dean in person.

"Can you-" you trailed off, hoping that Benny would know what you were trying to ask.

"I'll tell him." he said, not saying Dean's name, the two of you were trying to keep everything under wraps.

You excused yourself and quickly gathered the supplies you thought you would need for the transfer before making your way out of the hospital to search for your driver.

You walked out the door and down the stone steps, stopping on the bottom step as you looked side to side for one of the standard issue military jeeps that were usually used for transfers. You sat down on the bottom step, your med kit in your lap as you waited for the obviously late driver.

The jeep finally pulled up about twenty minutes later, and by now you were more than a little frustrated, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show and I would have to walk to get my patients. I probably could be well on my way by now if I would have started walking." you sassed, as you stood from the step, not looking as you heard one of the doors of the jeep open and close as someone got out.

"I apologize for your wait, ma'am. We had a last minute addition, and I had to wait." someone said, your head popping up when you instantly recognized the voice.

You looked up to see Dean standing before you, a smirk on his face when he realized you were speechless.

He held out his hand to you, "First Sergeant, Dean Winchester, ma'am, at your service." he said, a bright smile on his face as he waited for you to take his hand.

"Nice to meet you, First Sergeant." you said, a smile on your face as you took his hand and he led you to the jeep.

"Let the lady have the front seat." Dean said to the scrawny young soldier in the front seat, the young man quickly scrambling to get out.

You chuckled at the young man, "Thank you." you said, pausing afterward, hoping that he would fill in his name.

"Jenkins, ma'am." he said before getting in the back.

"Well, thank you, Jenkins. It was very kind of you." you said, as Dean helped you in to the front seat, closing the door behind you before rushing around the front of the jeep.

Dean climbed behind the wheel, "Everybody ready?" he asked before starting the engine.

"As I'll ever be." you said, placing your med kit next to you on the seat, the hesitant feeling you had earlier slowly starting to subside in Dean's presence.

You turned in your seat to face the nervous young man in the backseat, "What brings you along, Jenkins?" you asked, trying to get him to talk, thinking maybe if he was distracted it would help calm him down.

"I...I was separated from my unit, ma'am, and First Sergeant Winchester found out that they weren't too far from the hospital. He offered to take me along so I could rejoin them." he explained, looking like a frightened little boy.

"I told you that you could just call me Dean." Dean said, glancing over his shoulder.

"Sorry, First Sergeant...I mean, Dean." he said, his hands shaking in his lap.

You shook your head as you turned back around, wishing you had something in your kit that you could give him to calm his nerves. Jenkins may not make it back to his unit after all, you thought to yourself. He was far more likely to have a heart attack before you even reached the field hospital than he was to rejoin his unit.

"It was very kind of you to bring him along, help him rejoin his unit, First Sergeant Winchester." you said to Dean, a smile on your face.

"Guess, I'm just a really nice guy, ma'am." he said, shooting you a quick wink.

The field hospital the three of you were traveling to was about an hour and a half away. Dean had been driving for about an hour, the three of you talking about a little bit of everything to pass the time on the drive. You attempted to keep the conversation light, Jenkins seeming to grow more nervous the closer you got to your destination.

You turned in your seat to face him, "Are you ok?" you asked, concern on your face as you took in the sight of him. He looked seconds away from fainting.

He nodded his head, not convincing you at all, "Yes, ma'am." he replied.

"Jenkins." you said, a stern look on your face.

"Ma'am...it's...I'm afraid." he said, looking down at his hands in his lap. "At...at the base I felt safer, but-" he tried to say, the sound of gunfire quickly cutting him off.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, pulling you down in to the seat while trying to dodge the fire.

You could hear the bullets ripping and tearing into the jeep, and the sound of Jenkins breathing heavily in the backseat, nearly hyperventilating as you raised your head to look at Dean.

"Stay down!" he yelled, pushing you back down.

Before you could argue with him you felt your side of the jeep dip as Dean swerved, the passenger side tires leaving the road as you desperately tried to brace yourself. Suddenly you heard a loud sound, the jeep leaving the road completely, and then nothing, no gunfire just ringing, a ringing in your ears.

You kept your focus on Dean as you tried to hold on, tried to keep yourself in the vehicle as it flew through the air. You could see his mouth, moving but you couldn't hear anything he was saying, the loud ringing in your ears the only sound present.

You felt like you were in mid air forever, when in all actuality it was only a few seconds, and you knew the impact was coming. The last thing you remembered seeing was Dean's eyes focused on you, such worry and fear in them before everything went black.

Screams, agonizing screams woke you. You blinked your eyes open, the spinning tire of the overturned jeep the first thing you focused on.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Dean screamed, panic in his voice.

You slowly turned your head, still disoriented, as you looked for him, not being able to find him anywhere, "Dean!" you cried out, trying to sit up.

"Y/N, stay down! Whatever you do, stay down!" he yelled back, straining his voice to be heard over the gunfire and screams.

You were still trying to find him, your eyes scanning your surroundings frantically when you finally focused in on the source of the screams, the agonizing screams that woke you. You turned your head to see Jenkins pinned underneath the overturned jeep, his screams growing louder, ripping through you.

You forced yourself into a seated position, a white hot pain ripping through your abdomen as you did so. You looked down to see the army green color of your uniform fading away, quickly being replaced by a dark crimson red, the stain slowly growing before your eyes. You raised your shirt, a nasty, jagged gash stretching across your abdomen staring back at you, deep, but not deep enough to cause you immediate peril.

You crawled to the jeep, hoping that you could reach your medical kit for yourself and for Jenkins, even though you knew there was nothing that you could do for him. You finally made it to the jeep, Jenkins turning to look at you, completely terrified as he begged you to help him before crying out desperately for his mother.

You could still hear sporadic gunfire, almost as if the enemy was just toying with you. You leaned down, close to Jenkins' face, "Shh...it's ok. You're going to be ok." you lied, as you stroked the side of his face trying to calm him, your blood staining his skin.

You sat back on your heels, your own injury forgotten as you tried to think of what to do. You couldn't reach your medical kit without exposing yourself, so you knew that was out of the question for the time being. The constant screams were getting to you, breaking your focus, not allowing you to think straight.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." you pleaded, your hands coming up to cover your ears as your mind raced with ideas to get yourself and Dean out of there.

A weapon. You needed to find a weapon you finally decided once you were able to think for a moment. You looked over to Jenkins, his rifle still strapped to him. You brought your hand down over his mouth, muffling his screams as you worked the rifle from his body.

With his screams muffled you were able to make out what you thought were voices, at least two of them. You listened trying to make out what they were saying, but you couldn't hear anything between the ringing in your ears and the distance.

You released your grip on his mouth, and crawled to the edge of the jeep to peer around it, instantly spotting two soldiers standing on the road staring down into the ditch. You watched as they raised their weapons, Dean soon crawling out of the ditch and standing, his hands raised as they held their weapons on him.

Your heart started to race as they started to walk him across the road, towards you. You were finally able to hear one of the soldiers ask him how many people were with him. Dean quickly lied, saying that it was just him and one man, who was obviously injured.

Jenkins was still screaming as you over heard one of the soldiers tell the other to go take care of it, tired of listening to him. You panicked, knowing you would be found. You feared that Dean would try to do something stupid to save you, getting himself killed instead. You listened as Dean was talking to them, trying to get them to remain where they were, and in that moment you knew what you had to do.

You crawled back over to Jenkins, clamping one of your hands over his mouth before pinching his nose shut with the other.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." you whispered, repeating it over and over like a mantra, a prayer.

You turned your head away from him not able to face him as he started to struggle, started to fight for his life, but in his weakened state he could barely thrash, making your job much easier. You finally turned back to face him, his lifeless, glassy eyes staring up at you, boring into your soul. A sigh of relief leaving you once you realized that it was over. He was still. He was silent.

You grabbed his rifle and slowly stood to your feet, one hand pressing against the wound on your abdomen as you peered over the top of the jeep. You saw both soldiers, their backs to you, and you raised your weapon, taking a deep breath before squeezing the trigger.

You hit one of them in the neck, the soldier instantly falling to his knees. The other soldier whipped around, his weapon raised as you prepared yourself to take another shot, your hands shaking as you tried to steady your aim causing you to miss the shot. The remaining soldier prepared to fire, Dean pushing him aside at the last second, his shot just missing you.

You stood there frozen in a state of shock for a moment, the sounds of fighting pulling you back to reality. You ran around the jeep, your eyes solely focused on Dean and the soldier as they wrestled on the ground. The soldier had managed to pin Dean to the ground, his hands wrapped around his throat, choking him.

You felt as if it took you forever to reach them, your legs not seeming able to carry you fast enough. You raised the rifle, taking a couple of steps forward until you were right on him. You squeezed the trigger, hitting him in the shoulder, giving Dean the opportunity to push him off of him.

The soldier lay on his back as you stood over him, still able to hear those agonizing screams as you fired one final shot to end him, your hands shaking the entire time. You dropped the rifle at your feet suddenly aware the screams you were hearing were your own. You closed your mouth, quieting yourself as you stared blankly ahead, clearly in a state of shock.

"I told you to stay down no matter what! You don't ever put your ass on the line for me!" Dean barked out as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to the ground, his eyes searching the area for more enemy soldiers.

"I killed him." you said, your voice flat, your eyes looking at Dean, but not seeing him.

"You had to." he said, still searching the area.

"Not them. Jenkins. I killed Jenkins." you said, blinking your eyes, trying to get yourself to focus on Dean.

"What?" he asked, finally looking at you.

"I killed Jenkins." you calmly said as if you were discussing the weather. "He wouldn't stop, Dean. He wouldn't stop screaming and I just needed him to be quiet. I needed him to be quiet so I made him stop. I made him stop screaming." you said, the scene playing over in your head.

"Shh...it's ok. You're ok." Dean said, pulling you to your feet and taking you into his arms as he led you back across the road to take cover behind the overturned jeep.

He sat you down on the ground as far away from Jenkins as he could with you still being able to be covered by the jeep. You felt his hands on you as he searched you for injuries, your blood covered hands causing him to panic.

"Fuck." he breathed out as he raised up your shirt, taking notice of the large wound there. "What do I do?" he asked you, trying to cover the wound with his hands, your blood staining them. "Y/N! I need you to tell me what to do." he begged when you didn't answer, desperation in his voice.

You looked down, staring at your open wound for a moment before looking up at Dean, his eyes pleading for you to tell him what he needed to do next.

"My kit. My medical kit was in the jeep." you said, trying to pull yourself together.

Dean quickly stood up and ran around to the other side of the jeep, searching for your medical kit. "God damn it. Where is it?" he asked, frantically searching the wreckage before appearing in front of you empty handed, a defeated look on his face.

Both of you knew that the field hospital was about thirty minutes away, at least, and that was if you were driving, your current mode of transportation laying on it's side. You watched as Dean started to pace back and forth, his hands running through his hair as he tried to think of what to do. He quickly ripped open his uniform shirt, shrugging it from his shoulders, and pulling the white t-shirt he had on underneath over his head. He knelt down beside you, raised your shirt, and pressed his t-shirt against your wound, holding it in place as he tried to figure out his next move.

"You hold on. You hear me? Just hold on, Doll." he said as he took your hands and put them where his were over your wound.

You pressed the shirt to your stomach as he grabbed his uniform top from the ground and slipped it back on, minus the buttons to hold it closed, before standing up. He bent down and scooped you into his arms, carrying you bridal style from behind the jeep to the road where the two dead soldiers lay. He placed you on your feet, holding you up as he bent down to retrieve their weapons, tossing the straps over his shoulder before scooping you back into his arms and heading for the vehicle that the enemy soldiers were driving when they attacked you.

Dean placed you in the front seat before quickly racing around the vehicle and climbing behind the wheel. You started to feel light headed and slumped down in your seat, your body continuing to slide until Dean reached out and grabbed you.

"Hey! Come on! I need you to wake up." he said, gently shaking your shoulder.

You looked up at him, feeling so weak, "Let me lay down. I just need to lay down for a little while." you pleaded, Dean quickly helping you lay down across the seat, your head resting in his lap.

"Hey! Come on, Y/N! Talk. I need you to talk to me." he said, one hand stroking your head.

"I'm here." you said, closing your eyes.

You heard the engine start, "No, no, no. Don't close your eyes. I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?" he asked as he quickly turned the vehicle in the direction of the field hospital, his foot pressing down hard on the gas as he sped off.

"Y/N! Y/N!" he said, tapping your cheek until you opened your eyes, "Come on, Doll. You got to stay awake." he pleaded, glancing between you and the road every few seconds.

"Mmm hmm....I'm awake." you said, your eyes starting to flutter closed.

"Hey!" Dean barked out, forcing you to open your eyes. "Sing." he said, trying to think of anything he could do to keep you awake.

"Dean." you breathed out, singing the furthest thing from your mind, sleep was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

"Come on, Y/N, sing our song. I need you to sing our song like you are on some big fancy New York City stage, and I'm right there, front and center in the front row, telling everybody that that's my girl up there." he said pressing down on the gas pedal harder.

"New York City?" you asked, trying to focus on him.

"Sure. You're gonna be the next big thing, remember, and New York City is where we are gonna go. Maybe we can even bring Benny along. I bet you didn't know the big lug could play piano. I can see it now." he said glancing down at you to make sure you were still awake. "You'll be up there singing your heart out, Benny will be playin' the piano, and I'll be in the front row. That's what we're gonna do, so, I need you to stay awake for me, Doll. I need you to sing our song." he said, pushing the stolen vehicle to it's limits.

"Your...green eyes with...with their soft lights." you said more than sang.

"That's it. Keep going for me." he encouraged.

"Your...your eyes that..." you trailed off.

"Promise." he said, rubbing his hand along your cheek.

"That promise sweet...nights." you finished, trying your best to remember the next line, your mind hazy.

You had managed to sing, well speak, the rest of the song to him with Dean's encouragement, him helping you fill in the lines when your mind went blank.

"Sing that last part for me one more time, the last words." he pleaded, so close to the hospital that he could see it.

"Gr...gr...green eyes, I love you." you finally managed to say, your voice a mere whisper, feeling the undeniable urge to close your eyes.

Dean brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop and eased your head from his lap before climbing out and racing around to your side. He pulled you into his arms and carried you into the tent, screaming for someone to help him, to save you.

"You know, I love you right?" he asked looking down at you as the doctor directed him to a table to place you on. "I love you so much, Doll, and I need you to hold on. I need you to come back to me. It was a promise, remember? We always have to come back." he said as he laid you down where the doctor instructed, reluctantly moving out of the way so they could get to work on you.

He stood back, his eyes never leaving you as people started to crowd around the table, every one of them yelling something different. A nurse finally made her way to his side, and tried to get him to let her check him over, make sure that he wasn't in need of any medical attention himself, but he waved her off, too concerned with keeping you in his sight to care about himself.

He finally couldn't stand being away from you any longer, and he worked his way to your side, standing at the head of the table, looking down at you. He raised his hand and started to stroke your hair before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Come on, Y/N. You've...you've got to hold on. I need you to be ok. I need you to come back to me. You promised." he whispered before pulling back and standing to his full height, his eyes never leaving you as the people around you rushed to save you.

Tags: @flamencodiva @divadinag @superflurry @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @miraclesoflove

#supernatural au #dean x you #dean winchester #soldier dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #reader insert #dean #benny lafitte

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wanderers-shadow · 5 years

Text

Prompt #4 - Shifting Blame

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ‘s #FFxivWrite2019

Characters: Jinta’a and Tahla Nhavan

“Jin, Jin! Wake up!”

Tiny hands shook the boy from his slumber. Jinta’a groaned and rolled over onto his side, none too pleased with his sudden awakening. Maybe if he laid here long enough, his sister would find something better to do than bother him.

Evidently unwilling to leave him to his napping, Tahla continued her pestering, this time giving him a hearty shove. Had he had this much energy when he was only five winters old? “Please, Jin! Mama’s gonna be so mad…”

That got his attention. He grumbled as he sat up, wondering what sort of trouble the kit had gotten into this time. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he caught sight of the faint light of early dawn drifting down though the canopy. Gods, was it daylight already? He’d only meant to take a quick nap…

But worries of oversleeping were quickly discarded the moment he shifted his attention to his younger sibling. Dark ink covered her hands and arms in uneven splotches, and she had somehow even managed to get some on the side of her face. He reached out for one of her hands to look it over, and only then noticed that the ink was still wet. And that she had managed to get it all over his arm and shirt when she woke him up.

“Menphina be good… Tahla, what did you do?”

The girl’s ears fold back and she shrunk away from him, and it’s only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes threatening to brim over. “I-I din’t mean to…”

He backpedals, giving her hand a placating squeeze. “Ah, no tears, alright? Just, uh… just show me what happened, yeah?”

She nodded her assent with a sniffle, and as she led him along, he managed to get an explanation out of her. Evidently she had been trying to play at hunting after spotting a nutkin near one of their tents, chasing the poor thing around camp right up until the creature had leapt up and over their mother’s trunk. Tahla then scrambled over after it, heedless of the open ink bottle stacked on top of the trunk along with some of their mother’s parchment and tomes.

The scene was a mess, ink smeared across the top of the wooden trunk and seeping into the parchment and one of the books. Tahla must have tried to clean the mess up with her hands, only to make it worse. Jinta’a sighed, lifting up the ink-stained tome. Gods, their father had given her that tome. Mama really was going to have their hides for this.

“Can you fix it?” Tahla asked, staring up at him with all too hopeful eyes.

“Ain’t any way of gettin’ ink out of pages, far as I know.” The girl looked absolutely crestfallen to hear it, and Jinta’a sighed, crouching down to be at eye level with her. “Look, I’ll see what I can do. You need to clean yerself up, though. Remember where that stream is, just outside o’ camp?” She nods. “Good. Go get washed up. Face too.” He poked her ink-stained cheek. She batted his hand away, but ran off to do as she was told.

He stood back up and glanced around. The camp was silent, the rest of the clan out on the hunt or scouting the area. Considering dawn had already snuck up on him, they would likely be returning any time now. Jinta’a was supposed to have stayed behind to keep an eye on the kit. He’d made a fine job of that, all right.

The boy gave another sigh, then hurried to work. He scrounged up an old, worn out cloth from their supplies and begun to dab at the excess ink marring the pages of the book. When this turned out to almost smear the ink even more, he set the book aside in frustration. Instead he turned his attention to scrubbing the lid of the trunk before the stains could set any further.

Before long, he could hear the jovial voices of their hunting party returning to camp, his mother among them. He looked over the half-cleaned mess and then back to the approaching hunters, feeling his stomach drop. His ears pulled back in worry the moment his mother caught sight of him, a frown upon her stern features.

That frown only seemed to deepen as she approached, looking over the scene before her. The moment her eyes caught sight of her ruined tome, her expression immediately shifted to one of anger. She quickly closed the gap between them, grabbing Jinta’a by the scruff of his shirt and pulling him up to standing height.

“What have you done, boy?” He’d forgotten just how frightening his mother could be when she wanted to be.

“I.. I, uh—” His eyes dart away, not able to meet her gaze. The handful of aunts and sisters who had returned from the hunt with her now stood watching the scene unfold with expressions varying from concerned to amused. And then he noticed Tahla standing on the edge of camp, having just returned and looking like she wanted to run and hide at the sight of their incensed mother. He knew what he needed to do.

He finally looked back to his mother, his determination giving him some courage. “I… I was practicing with my spear in camp while you were gone. Didn’t see how close I was to yer stuff and… knocked it over.”

Needless to say, she was not pleased.

Later, Jinta’a sat perched on a thick branch of an old tree outside of camp, watching the late morning sun’s rays filter down through the leaves in sullen silence. The boy usually wasn’t fond of spending time alone, but the thought of going back to camp to get yelled at some more sounded even worse. Still, it was getting late. Maybe he could slip in unnoticed when everyone was asleep.

A sudden shuffling noise stirred him from his thoughts, and he was startled to suddenly find Tahla’s little head pop up next to him as she tried to scramble up the tree to join him. He reached out to give her a hand, pulling her up into his lap and frowning.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kit?”

“Not tired,” she responds with a pout, but the way she slumped against his chest told another story. They sit together for a few silent moments before Tahla finally speaks up again, voice quiet and hesitant. “Why’d ya lie to mama?”

He made a low, thoughtful noise, tilting his head to the side to glance at her. Then he grinned and reached out to tug teasingly at her ponytail. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for little troublemakers like you.”

#FFxivWrite2019 #tahla nhavan #jinta'a nhavan #i wanted to write something cute this time #so we get itty bitty keepers #tahla and jin probably around 5 and 12 during this

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the-walking-memelords · 5 years

Text

Vows

Rating: G

Word Count: 3362

Pairing: Louis X Clementine

Louis and Clem work out their wedding jitters for their big day.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

The rapid sound of his pencil tapping against the paper was the only thing filling the silence of the empty dorm room. Louis sat slouched over the desk, head in hand. The blank page stared back at him almost mockingly. There were so many things he wanted to say but none could escape his mind onto the page. Time was running out. He kicked himself for putting this off for so long. The wedding was only a few days away but Louis had no idea what he would say to her. He leaned back in his chair, that beautiful face distracting him from what he was doing.

Clementine, the love of his life. Louis became lost in a daydream as he thought of spending the rest of his life by her side. Waking up to her golden eyes was already blissful, but to be accompanied by that golden ring seemed to make life even sweeter.

The feeling of him falling in love was interrupted by the feeling of him actually falling. Louis quickly grabbed the edge of the desk to prevent his chair from completely tipping backwards.

“This is no use.” He muttered to himself.

He gave up writing for now as he decided to go see someone he knew he could talk to about anything. Though of course, Marlon was less talkative these days.

---

Purple Snapdragons stuck out of the dirt around the worn wooden cross. Louis sat under the midday sun at the foot of the dirt mound. His eyes traced the carved letters spelling the name of his best friend.

“Hey, Marlon.” He spoke to the grave.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while since I came to visit you, we’ve just been so busy with the wedding and other stuff I haven’t had the time.”

He laughed to himself. Part of him thought this was stupid, but deep down he just hoped that somehow Marlon could hear him.

“Everyone’s been good, all excited for the wedding. Oh- I hope you don’t mind that Aasim is my best man.” He let out a sigh.

“I wish you were here, man. I don’t blame AJ, of course, I love the little dude. Though, he isn’t so little anymore. He’ll be eleven this winter.” Louis never thought he could be a dad, but Clem always assured him he was doing a good job.

“I love them both, so much. Clem and AJ are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t want to screw this up. Makeshift as it is this is our wedding.”

Heh, wedding jitters.

“I’ll think of something.” He decided

“Tell Mitch and Brody I said hi.”

---

It was as if all inspiration had left him. His fingers laid motionless on the piano keys, unable to find any notes to play. He ran his thumb over the carving they had made the night before everything went to hell. He remembered that night in such vivid detail. The good and the bad, though he chose to only think of the former.

He could still recall the heat in his cheeks when she called him cute...

The feeling of his heart skipping a beat when she said she like-liked him...

The softness of her lips the first time they kissed…

“Louis?”

Louis’ trip down memory lane took a detour when the voice of his adopted son called out to him.

“Uh, hey little dude. What’s up?”

“Violet told me to check on you, make sure you were getting your vows done.” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, a behaviour he picked up from Clementine.

Shit.

“Tell Vi I’ve got it handled. A little more time and I’ll have the whole school sobbing at the wedding.” He said with his usual dramatic flair.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” AJ wasn’t falling for it.

“You’re gettin’ too smart for your own good, kid.” He scooted over on the bench, giving AJ a spot to sit.

“I just don’t know what to say. They’re so many things I want to say, but none of them seem right.” He grit his teeth in frustration.

“Well, you could tell her why you love her.” AJ suggested.

“Tell her how happy she makes you and why you want to stay with her forever.”

“That does seem like a good start.” He couldn't hold back a chuckle.

“When did you turn into a love guru?”

“...I don’t know what that is.”

“Heh. Never change, Alvin Junior.” He put his arm around AJ’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you back.” He said, wrapping his arms around Louis.

They broke the hug and stood from the piano, each smiling at the other.

“C’mon, AJ.” He said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“We got shit to do.”

“Swear.”

---

Clementine held her breath as Violet struggled with the zipper on the back of a peach-coloured dress.

“It’s no use, it’s just too small.” The blonde huffed.

“These dresses are made for high schoolers, of course it’s too small.” Sighed Ruby as she dug through more of the school’s old costume bins.

“Well, we have to figure something out. She can’t just walk down the aisle in those mud-stained jeans.” Violet helped Clem out of yet another failed dress.

Clementine shuddered against the draftiness of the old theatre. A simple white tank top leaving her arms exposed to the chill.

Clem crossed her arms, her eyes finding a fascination with the floorboards.

“It’s okay hun, we’ll find somethin’ to make you look right beautiful for your wedding.” Ruby assured, noticing her silence.

“The dress isn’t what I’m really worried about.” She confessed. Letting out a heavy sigh, she sat down on the edge of the stage.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”

“Oh, God. You haven’t written your vows yet either? You two are just made for each other.” Violet was the most stressed out wedding planner in the apocalypse.

Clem didn’t respond. Instead, she fiddled with the ring on her finger. The slightly tarnished gold band was adorned with several small diamonds. The slight looseness of the band caused the heavy diamond setting to slip upside down around her finger.

I need to get a chain for this.

She found herself playing with it often, not wanting to lose it by not paying attention and letting it slip off.

She remembered the day Louis proposed to her.

He had been acting odd that entire day. Nervous and jittery. He was quick to pull her away from the others once her watch shift ended just as the sun began to set. She remembered catching Violet’s wink as he tugged her along. She couldn’t deny that she teared up when he showed her the ring that had belonged to his mother. Tears of happiness spilling down both of their faces when she said yes.

“Just write about how much you love him and that you’ll be together forever and all that.” Ruby continued to dig through the boxes.

“It has to be special. I can’t just say something generic and pretend it came from my heart.” She laid back onto the stage, staring up at the sunlight that peeked through the holes in the roof.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever be getting married. Once the world died I figured all of that stuff died too.” She ran her fingers through her loose curls, spying her hat laying a foot away.

She reached to arm out to grab it, holding the damaged cap in front of her as she sat up.

I need to take better care of this.

Her dad’s hat was filled with rips and holes and covered in stains from all kinds of muck. The D on the front peeled nearly halfway off.

She could hardly remember the voices of her parents. The mental image of their faces was tainted with the dead eyes and rotting skin of the walkers she found in the Savannah herd. Her memories of the old world didn’t even seem real anymore, like some kind of happy dream or alternate reality.

I miss you both.

You too, Lee.

She blinked back a few tears as she placed her hat back on her head, wearing the brim low.

“Don’t beat yourself up over the past.” Violet took a seat next to her, speaking as if she could read her mind.

“Now’s the time to think about the future.”

To Clem’s surprise, Violet pulled her into a hug. She returned the hug, then after pulling away with a smile.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you initiate a hug.” She laughed.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it.” The blonde joked.

“You’re gonna be happy whether you like it or not, damnit.”

“Thanks for doing this for us, Vi. You didn’t have to make things so elaborate.” Violet was the one who insisted on a whole ceremony, flowers and fancy clothes in all. It was already more than she ever could have asked for.

“You and Louis are my best friends, and I’ll be damned if I can’t put on an epic wedding for you guys.” She smirked. “Thank you, Violet.” Her voice caught a bit in her throat as she choked up a bit. She could never be able to explain how much this meant to her.

“Oh c’mon, enough with the waterworks. We still gotta find you a dress that’ll knock that dork’s socks off.” Violet stood up, offering her hand to Clem as they both went to give Ruby a hand.

“I know what I’m going to write about.” Clementine decided. Her heart swelled in anticipation for the upcoming event.

“I’m glad.”

“Hey, guys? I think I found something.” Ruby called from a mess of searched boxes. The two girls rejoined the third, who unveiled her latest find.

“So what y’all think?”

A wide grin formed on Clementine’s face.

“It’s perfect.”

---

Louis adjusted his suit jacket in the cracked mirror, frowning at how large it appeared on him.

“You look fine, Louis” Violet assured, quickly checking her own slightly town jacket.

“Now c’mon we need to get you out there so I can check on Clem.”

She practically shoved him out the door.

“You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Almost as if you care or something.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She said impassively, continuing to lead him to the music room.

“You finished your vows, right?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” he fiddled with the slightly crumpled paper in his pocket. Louis had gone over the words again and again until they were burned into his brain, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave the page behind.

“Good, now get in your spot.” With that Violet rushed off to find Clementine.

The music room was decorated in an assortment of wildflowers. The red petals of the Indian Blanketflowers were mixed with the bright yellow of the Black-eyed Susans. Each bouquet sat in an old glass jar on tables and shelves outlining the room. Chairs were lined in short rows, leaving a gap in the middle as the aisle.

“Nervous?” Aasim asked him.

“You can bet your ass I’m nervous.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yet at the same time, this is the best day of my life.”

His heart fluttered in anticipation. Louis hadn’t been able to see her since that morning as they were hurried away to prepare for the event.

“I’m happy for you, dude. You guys are really good together.” Aasim gave him a pat on the shoulder as they awaited the arrival of the bride.

---

Clementine played with her hands restlessly as she sat in the desk chair in her room. Her ring was absent from her finger, left with AJ for the ceremony. She kicked her bare feet from under the long hem of her dress.

Her wedding dress was scarlet red like the colour of a rose’s petals. Long flowing silk ran from her collarbone to the floor tied just under her ribs with a sash. Her arms were left bare in the sleeveless gown.

“I’ve never worn something like this before.” She told Ruby, who was busy arranging Clem’s curls into a stylish updo, leaving a few locks to hang around her face.

“Do you think Louis is going to like it?”

“Like it? Louis is going to love it, just like he loves you.”

“All done.” Ruby held a hand mirror in front of her.

Clem ran her fingers over her styled curls.

Ruby did a great job.

“Thank you.” She smiled, giving the redhead a hug.

A knock on the door slightly startled them both as Violet entered the dorm. Her eyes widened when she saw the bride.

“You look amazing, Clem.” Violet gasped.

Clementine’s anxiety began to turn to giddiness as she twirled for them, letting her skirt flare out in every direction.

“I’m ready.” she declared, putting on the white flats they had found for her and taking her bouquet.

“Your future husband awaits.” Violet said as she held the door for her.

---

“Attention, everyone.” Violet called to the group.

“The bride has arrived.”

Louis’ jaw immediately dropped. She was gorgeous. A gown so simple yet so elegant.

She picked me.

He could barely believe it.

This living goddess actually picked me.

Heat crossed both of their faces as Clementine made her way down the aisle.

She tried to focus on her steps, dreading the idea of tripping over her skirt. Her eyes were deadlocked on his, finding nothing but love. She walked past their smiling friends until she reached the man she loved. She passed her bouquet to Ruby, letting Louis take her hands in his.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, making her heart jump even more than it already was.

“Alright, everybody.” Violet smiled, pulling a few small cards out of her pocket.

“We’re here today because two of our amazing friends fell in love and wanted to be able to unite in the way of the old world, and what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t support them and throw a kickass wedding?”

That earned a few woots from the audience.

“But today isn’t about us. Today is about Clementine and Louis getting married and being a family.” She nodded to Louis.

This is the moment he had been preparing for. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he gazed into her stunning golden eyes. Louis abandoned the paper in his pocket. He knew what he was going to say.

“Clementine I…” He began, his breath slightly catching in his throat.

“You and AJ both mean the world to me. I never thought I could have this kind of family.”

“I never thought there would be someone like you who would want me.”

“Someone who could really see me for me, not just some stupid jokester who plays the piano.”

“This family is more than I ever could have asked for, and I promise, I will protect you with everything that I am 'til the day I die.”

His tone was serious but his smile never faded.

“And I vow to keep making my stupid jokes, and keep playing my stupid piano, and make you laugh every day because it is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Clementine giggled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I vow to hold you tight through whatever this crazy world decides to throw at us, and whatever that ends up being, we face it together.”

He squeezed her hands tightly, their foreheads pressed together.

“Forever and ever.”

“Wow.” Violet mumbled.

Clementine wiped the tears from her eyes. It was her turn to speak.

“Louis, I love you more than words can say.” She choked back her tears.

“The day AJ and I arrived here at the school was one of the best days of my life, even if I didn't know it at the time.”

“I was scared at first, I wasn't sure if I could open myself up to someone again after losing so many…”

Her eyes fell.

“But you? You sparked a light in me I didn't think I had anymore.”

“I know there are things you still blame yourself for, stuff you wish you could take back even though you don't need to.”

“But that was forever ago.”

She saw him begin to tear up. She knew he still blamed himself for AJ getting shot all those years ago.

“Today is a new day, and today I vow to be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

“I vow to be there whenever you need me, and to be just as much of a rock for you as you've been for me.”

“And I just have to thank you, Louis, because you taught me how to live, not just survive.”

Tears rolled down the faces of both the bride and the groom.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even stone cold Violet could be heard sniffling a little.

“O-okay, that was beautiful.” Violet cleared her throat.

“AJ, it’s time for the rings.”

AJ hopped up from his seat. Two rings, one adorned with diamonds paired with a plain gold band salvaged from a supply run rested an old red pillow in AJ’s hands. He excitedly held it up as Louis held his mom’s ring in his hand.

No, it’s Clementine’s ring now.

“I, Louis,

take you, Clementine,

as my wife.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

Louis slipped the ring onto her finger, the gemstones sparkling in the sun that peeked in from the windows. It looked so natural.

“I’m sorry that it doesn’t really fit.” He saw how the band slipped loosely around her finger.

“It’s still perfect.” Clem assured with a smile.

With a shaky hand, she plucked the second ring from the pillow.

“I, Clementine,

take you, Louis,

as my husband.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

She repeated the vows, truly meaning them with all of her heart as she slipped the ring onto his finger.

The matching rings were a symbol of their love. Two small pieces of jewelry that meant so much more than they appeared. Their love was their bond, and the rings were proof.

It was time.

“By the power vested in me by Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Violet threw her unused cards over her shoulder.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Louis hardly waited for Violet to finish her sentence before he pressed his lips to his new wife’s. Clementine wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her slightly off the ground, her toes barely touching the hardwood.

The cheers of their friends were loud and wild. When the kiss broke, the newlyweds swooped in on AJ, pulling their boy into a tight hug.

The rest of the day was a party. Everyone danced and sang and had the time of their lives. For one day, they managed to make it feel like the world had never ended.

The whole gang enjoyed some of Omar’s specially made stew in place of an unobtainable cake. They didn’t mine. Everyone enjoyed Omar’s cooking. By the time the sun set the party was calmer. Tennessee played a song on a guitar as the couple slow danced.

The two moved with each other in small circles, swaying back and forth to the music.

“I love you, Louis. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

Clementine rested her head on Louis’ chest as he held her. To her, the world only existed in that one room. That one moment. Surrounded by their friends as she rested in her husband's arms while he whispered the lyrics to the song in her ear.

Cause it’s you and me,

And all of the people

With nothing to do,

Nothing to lose.

And it’s you and me,

And all of the people

And I don’t know why,

I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

#clouis #louistine #louisentine #fanfiction #fluff #my writing

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royal-writer · 5 years

Text

Memories 12- The Drow Part 4

I Would Die For You Tibs. And this isn’t even touching all the Things I know about you.

Her tears were dried up by the time she’d limped her way to Tibiius storefront. The salty drops and exhaustion around the circles beneath her butterscotch eyes and in her tear-ducts of her face were crusted and gross. She wiped her arm beneath her runny nose; red and sore from her ugly weeping, feeling the shakes of her unsteady limbs.

Every breath felt like she’d run a marathon. Muscles screaming with agony. Blotches, blemishes, and stains of color on her skin that had an aching pulse where fists and feet had kicked and punched her. Bruises on her arms, bruises on her chest, on her ribs. Welted raised skin streaked with flecks of blood where fingernails grooved into flesh.

Essätha placed a hand against her neck and flinched. The worst pain of all was not even the outline of hands wrapped around her throat. It wasn’t even the inflammation of her skin, the pain, or the angry dark red hand prints turning to a deep violet-blue that made it the worst. It was the fear. A place where present and past intermingled. The taste of death coating her throat. The aching loneliness that always told her she wasn’t worthy of existence; that had simply always been a nuisance to society, that she was still just a frightened and fragile woman. Not even a woman, but a Yuan-Ti. A monster unable to be loved.

I’ll finally be free of you.

If that was all people wanted, why could they not leave her in peace?

Because you put yourself in these situations, fool, she thought to herself bitterly, raising a hand to the door.

The shape of her knuckles didn’t even hit the doorframe as it flung open. Her shadow which cast a silhouette into the window of the shop now fell over a gray leather-skinned man. The wild eyes of the older gentleman staring up at her beneath his thick rimmed glasses, and a hand to his hunched over aching back.

“Essätha! I was up all night searching for you!” the elder Drow gasped. His posture straightened reluctantly as he reached out to her. Tremors in his fingers, and a deep set of lines in his face that indicated his tiredness. The depth of his age lines settled in creases of the worry that he’d held on to his expression through the night.

“Oh, sweet pea. What happened to you? Who did this?”

Eyes too dry to produce tears, her chest heaved, and a raspy sob broke tore through her.

“Sweetie,” Tibiius crooned, gingerly taking hold of her arm. “Come inside now, let me have a look at you.”

He hobbled more than walked while guiding her through the front door. It shut behind her, the closed sign smacking against the folds of the curtains blocking some of the sunlight into the window. Silhouettes and rays of sunshine dancing and dappling against the floorboards and shelves lined with goods. The shapes of their figures shuffling along.

Tibs ambled on with his jaw set in a grimace. The angle of his back seemed a distress; keeping his posture shrunken shorter than her own. As she twisted her arm to break free upon noticing just how uncomfortable he seemed, his hand held firmly tight against her forearm. With a great reluctance and much sniveling, she had no choice but to let him tug her along to the small sitting room in the back.

“Take a seat now, young lady.”

She obeyed the command without complaint as Tibiius released her. Her chest rising and falling, rising and falling again and again as echoes of broken cries rose up against her will.

The old Drow appeared to have kept at least part of his word when he’d said she had better return in a timely fashion. Much of the bagged goods she’d had sent home with the young boy the other day were on the floor by the back door. One had fallen over, scattering supplies. On the table there sat a rusty old lantern that appeared to have burned recently. The oil was nearly gone, and the wick was black and short.

Essie reached for the crumpled up piece of paper sitting beside it. Her fingers smoothed it gradually, spotting the dense charcoal lines. The image sketched upon it was heavily smudged by now, and there were folds in the parchment from how many times hands had creased and re-creased the page.

“Who drew this?”

Her voice sounded alien. Choked and faded.

Tibiius looked up from the two-burner stove nested in the corner. His hands stopped shaking as he lifted a kettle up to pour a steaming hot mug of some spiced herbal tea.

“I did,” he stated gruffly, pouring a heavy drop of honey into the mug. He stirred it rhythmically while approaching the table, and set the mug before her. The rising steam giving off a pleasant aroma. Hints of ginger, sage, and lavender with some more bitter things she couldn’t quite identify.

For a moment, her pain seemed numbed by curiosity. For such an incredible artist, Tibs had nothing like this displayed in the house. The realism of the portrait was incredibly eerie for being a mere sketchy graphite. It followed the angles of her face, framed by the curls of her hair. The detail of her eyes was strangely soulful and lifelike. A gentle smile on her face like she’d been trying to hide it. And all of this committed from memory, no less.

Then she’d looked at the smear where he’d drawn the scales on her face, and it no longer looked appeared like some mythic beauty but a cursed reality.

Either ignoring or not realizing her intense interest in the drawing, the gentleman pushed the ceramic closer to her until she retrieved it from the table. It was painfully hot on her tongue, and her throat ached to swallow, but it warmed the chill in her bones. Her stomach protested; rolling uncomfortably, but she inhaled deeply and forced the beverage to stay down.

“Had to have some way to find ya,” Tibiius went on. He grabbed the other table chair and dragged it around the table to sit beside her. A deep grunt exiting him as his feeble old body sank into the hard seat.

“Ain’t nothing better than a description than a picture. Now come here aye, lend me your hands.”

Mutely, Essie did as instructed, and offered her hands as she set down the mug.

The man held her hands in one of his wrinkly spotted ones. He lay his other atop hers, fingers spread, and closed his crimson eyes. The barest movement of his lips as he whispered softly, creating a circular motion over her hands as he worked. None of the words he spoke made any sense. They flowed out of him like a ritual’s chant; with the same word appearing the most frequently over and over again: Eilistraee.

Silver light streamed out of the Drow’s hands, and upon her skin. It began to spread outward; forming the appearance of wings. Small speckles of light floated away around their hands, and each bead of moonlight that seemed to shimmer and fall away like glitter fluttered and formed the image of a moth beating its wings before fizzling out.

She breathed in deeply, and exhaled with awe.

“You know magic?” Essie murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He said nothing. Concentrating on the words of his spell, warmth bathed her as a glow cast itself upon her wounds. The scratches shimmered, and instantly faded. The sharp ache in her lungs followed next, and she looked down to see the black and blue of internal bruising disappearing rapidly from her exposed chest.

Tibs let out a satisfied sigh, and lifted his eyelids slowly while patting her hands.

“Aye, I know magic alright,” he stated, a twinkle of silver still reflecting in his eyes as the glow faded. “I don’t flaunt it. Never was the best with with it. But the Silver Lady blessed me with Her gifts, and I am proud to be Her follower. I’m glad She still sanctions on old cleric with Her divine power, even now. I haven’t called upon it in a long, long time…”

As the man gave a far-away look, lost in old memories, Essätha wiggled one of her hands carefully free of his. She reached up to touch her throat, wincing at still how tender the spot was.

“Don’t do that, miss. Ya still plenty bruised, and I only have so much in me to mend ya. I’m sure you’re gonna hurt for a while, so don’t push yourself.”

“Thank you, sir Tibiius,” she expressed with deep gratitude. Her free hand went for the glass, still a bit shaky as she brought it to her lips for another drink.

He grinned a bit sheepishly, stroking the scales on the back of her hand. The troubled look began to slowly creep back in over the bags under his eyes and sleep-deprived features. He licked his lips anxiously, scooting to the edge of his chair.

“Where have you been?” he stressed. “What happened to you? Who did this? I was askin’ folks all evening and wandering well into the night searching. Worried sick I have been! I finally came home, hoping to catch you here. Praying you’d come back; but you weren’t here. Thenhen I saw the shadow in the store while I was gettin’ myself worked up to go out again and looked out the window and by My Lady’s Light young one, thank the Goddess you came back.”

“Did that member of the Teken’rae family do this to you? Is that where you were; who you were with? Sweet pea tell me what happened.”

Essätha gave a shake of her head, placing the mug down. She fished into her pocket with her free hand. Digging out the small but thick bound manuscript, she slapped it down on the table.

“The Teken’rae man had nothing to do with this,” she whispered. Her voice wavered a little as she continued: “There was a woman, and a man. Someone; one of them I assume, knocked me out and dragged me back to some dingy hut. I managed to escape while the man was trying to kill me; tying up loose ends they said. The woman said she needed to speak with someone. Some Keepers or something?”

“The people who kidnapped me, one of them had this on them.”

Grunting, the old man sat her hand carefully down in her lap. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and wiped them on the edge of shirt. His tongue darted out against his lips as he murmured something in his native tongue to himself, retrieving the notepad to flip it open.

His eyes barely skimmed the front page, and he hissed in revulsion, nearly dropping the manual.

“A vile dark magic,” he spat.

“What is it?” the Yuan-Ti woman urged, leaning closer.

“This appears to be a verse created for a group of followers to the goddess Kiaransalee. It’s written in Drow. It speaks of sacrificial tributes,” he turned the page, “blood-letting and torturing their enemies for years until they go insane. Using the blood of powerful mages to make more potent castings. Eventually using the husks of their empty vessels when they finally die for to expand their necrotic undead army. And there’s,” he flipped through the scripture quickly, “talk of killing and turning more people to prepare for the great fight against Lolth and Lady Dark Maiden Eilistraee. This is appalling.”

“They asked about the family crest that I had,” Essie recalled, fidgeting. “What could they want that for?”

“Who knows,” Tibs growled, his eyes darting over the passages. “I would assume they may want to use the influence of the family to their advantage, somehow. Teken’rae’s are one of the last known family houses to still exist in these parts. They’re practically royalty. They may have wanted to use them, or to destroy them and further ensue chaos and fear among other Drow and Drow family.”

“The amulet is a communication device and locator between family members. It could be a danger in the wrong hands. We are very fortunate they do not have it.”

“That Teken’rae fellow needs to see this,” Essätha urged. She reached out, grasping the elderly man’s dark-spotted hand. He lifted his ruby colored eyes to her, and looked away. Adjusting the way his glasses sat on his wide-bridged nose, then running his hand over his balding head through the thin wisps of silver hair.

“Aye. His family is in great danger. They have been alerted by the death of his kin, but I don’t know if they have further plans against them. This little novel has personal notes scribbled in it, but it is essentially a pre-written bible of propaganda to their cause.”

“Lady Eilistraee will not stand for this,” Tibiius snarled, smacking a fist into his thigh. “Drow are not meant to be bastardized slaves to that devil-woman who calls herself a goddess. We are capable of much more. We are not monsters; we are a proud people who descended from a once great empire of dark elves only to befall our own inescapable sins. But we’re not all like that.”

For a terrible moment, she could hear the pleading in Tibs voice as he gazed upon her: “Drow are capable of great mistakes, deceit, and dishonor, miss Essätha. Many of us have done great harm to the world, and made our name bad for all of our people. This cult shows the worst of what some of us are capable of, thinking we are better than everyone else. This book is the preaching of great evil, darkness, and sin. It is the work of mad and bitter people. It is not all that we are.”

Smiling gently, Essätha gave the man’s hand a tight squeeze of reassurance.

“You needn’t convince me of anything, mister Tibiius. I know a good person when I see one.”

The older gentleman nodded slowly. He deflated, sitting deeper into his seat until his aged body began to sink into itself. Relief seemed to ease some of the tension around him, but his face still appeared greatly troubled. As it should be.

“You need to show this to sir Teken’rae,” she repeated. “Tell him all that I have told you.”

“You need to tell him what happened,” Tibs countered hotly. “He needs to hear this from you. Give him the description of these thieves; these abductors. His family and the constables will look into it and see to their justice, child, I assure you.”

“I can not stay here, mister Tibs. I… I barely managed to free myself from that man. They could come after me-”

“Then I will keep you safe!”

She halted, staring at the frantic man in stunned silence. Her mouth hung open, listening to the heavy, ragged breathing he exuded furiously.

With a supportive smile, Essätha stroked her fingertips gently over his hand, and lowered her head. Springs of her dark hair fell over her face, blocking her eyes tinged with remorse.

“Mister Teken’rae may not be convinced by me, but I think that he will listen to you. His family might not be so generous to a criminal who stole his family crest from another criminal. I am not much better than the woman who had it before me.”

“I can not risk to endanger you and this town by staying,” she continued. “If these maniacs have an army or just a handful of misguided followers, I don’t want to risk war in these streets. People live here. Their lives and their children’s lives depend on the security of this town.”

“But you will be alone,” Tibiius murmured faintly. “You need protection, child. This is not a debate. They… They will hunt you.”

She shook her head.

“Miss Essätha, please-”

“I am not staying, mister Tibs. I thank you, but it was never my intention, anyway. I know how to disappear. I can buy myself some time, at the very least. Hopefully Teken’rae’s family line won’t decide to track me down as well, as I have wronged their family…”

“They will be much more focused on their own, and gaining justice of their lost son, then following where you go, a minor inconvenience in the scheme of things,” Tibiius uttered shortly.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes and offered a sloppy sideways smile up to the gentleman. There was a deep sorrow written in his face.

“Please stay,” he offered, voice cracking. “I can protect you, here.”

She could never make him understand. She was safe no where. It didn’t matter if the order of this dark Drow goddess came after her, or the Teken’rae family did, or neither of them. She had seen the destruction her kind brought with them. Through herself, through the demented groups of Yuan-Ti that she had met in her travels.

The trust or tolerance of her would eventually wane here. She needed to stay ahead of the disappointment and hurt before it bared its teeth. Before her, or anyone else, got hurt in the crossfire.

“I will be fine, mister Tibiius. I can look after myself.”

He hesitated. The determination in her face seemed to make him pause in thought. He licked his lips, and seemed to want to speak. Dragging out a long sigh, he nodded instead.

“I can not stop you,” he relented with a gravely tone. “You wish to run. But you can not run forever, Essätha. No one can run forever.”

His words were a heavy weight on her heart. She tried to shake off the ominous stature of it as nothing of importance. Everyone needed to stop for rest, now and then. Everyone needed a bit of companionship even, from time to time to keep their sanity in check. That was sensible, and there was nothing otherwise foreboding in his words.

“If you would be willing to take it, I have some goods that I think will serve you well on your journey. And some food, too. It’ll be a few days travel between here, and the next town.”

A ghostly smile flashed over her sharp canines. “Of course, mister Tibiius. That’s very thoughtful of you, and I’d be glad to accept.”

“Oh and uh, one more thing,” the man whispered. His voice was threaded with anxiety as he reached into his breast pocket. He turned over a piece of thick parchment a couple times, before holding it out to her.

Taking it, Essätha flipped it open curiously. The edges were worn, and it appeared damaged with staining and light exposure. But in the faded colors and rough lines, she could make out the image of a young man quite clearly. His eyes were a rusted orangey-red, with light gray (or perhaps, discolored from aged parchment gray) skin and long white hair. He had a strapping smile, broad cheekbones, a thin nose, and sharp angles to his chin and angular throat.

“That’s an old drawing,” Tibs scoffed. “Not my best work.”

“Who is it?” she inquired, studying the shape of the man’s eyes. It was a very lovely drawing, despite what Tibiius had to say.

“My boy, Sevrin. He left home years ago,” he sighed. “If… If you see my boy, could you… could you tell him that I- that mister Tibiius Seernomadane- miss him?” He licked his lips, clutching his hands against his legs.

“Could you tell him… his father, misses him?”

Essie turned her half-lid eyes from the small scrap of paper in her hands, to the man in front of her. She reached out, placing her hand on top of his to give it a firm squeeze once again.

“I’d be happy to do that if I see him, mister Tibiius.”

He gave a short nod, a troubled look in the shine of his eyes.

“You’re a good, and very brave young miss,” he choked. “You come visit me, sometime. Any time will do, you understand?”

She nodded her head eagerly. The words she wanted to say, never making it to the surface as Tibs stood up from his seat, and hugged her. His tired old bones creaking, and the strength of his fingers digging into her shoulders as he exhaled shakily. A hand stroked her matted, dirty hair gently as he held her.

Mechanically, her arms moved to hold him back. Robotically patting his back, too astonished for words.

“Aye, you stay safe, you hear me?” Tibs rasped. “And no more pickpocketing.”

The man’s shoulders shook, a tearful choke breaking into his voice.

Turning her eyes down to the floorboards, Essie latched her fingers into the old man’s backside. She swallowed the thick mass that felt its way up suddenly into her throat, faster then she was aware of.

“I’ll do my best, mister Tibs.”

She tried not to think about how much she was going to miss the bed, even if it was too firm for her liking. She tried not to think about how much she was going to miss holding the shop for him when Tibs needed to rest, or go to the bathroom. She tried not to think about how nice it was, to live simply, even if it had been for just a short while. To feel normal. To feel accepted.

“You come back here, anytime, miss Essätha. You’ll always have a place, here.”

She swallowed thickly, a prickling sensation in the back of her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Aye, no, thank you. You’re a fine lass, sweet pea. I haven’t felt this lively in years,” he chuckled; the sound vanishing rather suddenly as he clutched her. “I sure am going to miss you.”

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. Fear of the unknown, anxiety, loneliness, pity, shame, heartache- so many ranges of emotion all colliding, all at once.

The next thing she knew, she was practically in Tibiius lap, sobbing at what cruel and alien fate lay before her. But mostly, to what she was leaving behind.

#eci artz #Essie rw

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activatingaggro · 6 years

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INKTOBER - 22 - WISHES

PHERES DYSSEU | 9 SWEEPS / 20 YEARS OLD RICCIN KAYATA | 9 SWEEPS / 20 YEARS OLD

TEMASEK, HANHAI REGION, ALTERNIA | 2,641 words

"Don't you ever wish your telekinesis was weaker?" Pheres asks you, tilting his head back, and you have to pinch his chin to keep him in place.

Because brother's like the bird that raised him. He flits more than Nzinga, if you don't keep an eye on him: he's already smudged his mascara three times over, and the white cakepaint on his face's streaked across the back of his hand, where the knuckles skated right across. You hadn't realised how much he gestures, how much he fucking touches everything, until you'd looked away and turned back to find white smudges all over your counter.

Least your bathroom's small enough to make it almost work. First thing you'd done, when you'd moved into the indigo flats, was knock down all the walls to make one massive room to store your collection. Who needs walls, when you've got shelves and cupboards to designate locales instead? But they'd refused to let you tear down the bathroom's drywall, so the only thing you'd been able to do was narrow it.

You hadn't expected to end up quite this fucking large, though, when you'd done it. The tub's only big enough for you to fit now if you fold your knees up, and stretching out your legs on the commode leaves your feet braced flat against the wall of the sink. It's sized for a motherfucker like your little rust, not for you, but that's fine.

There's only so many places he can smudge. And it ain't like the walls aren't already stained white. "Used to be weaker," you say, mild as you dip the brush back into the pot. Pheres's got hollow cheeks. They've rounded out since you first met him, but he's always going to be gaunt, you think.

Chiloa'd explained, once, when you were real young, it was a sign of mistreatment. The caverns didn't always do right by every troll. They let custodians get out that weren't the right fit for their charge: ones too small, too young, too delicate to take proper care for the troll they were selecting. Ones that might die, as soon as they got out, and leave their ward to be eaten by the others, or scrounge to survive.

And pupas just weren't made for scrounging. They managed! Orphans are a dime a dozen in the program, where surviving the cull is as easy as signing over your life. But they always look queer, after. They developed late. They stayed small. Their arms stayed thin, and their bones long, and they were delicate, in a way that just always struck you as sad, the closest to wanting to coddle a motherfucker as you've ever come. There's a tragedy to be found in looking at a soul, and seeing the shadow of what they should've been draggin' behind them, heavy enough that everyone knows it's there.

Pheres's got hollowed cheeks, but you suppose he's always gonna, and there's no harm in pulling 'em in more with a little colour. "But Shep wanted to see how far it could go, brother, so she spun the wheel and drew me taut. The fuck is the use for small scale? She's got Conetl's line for that. Close your eyes, now."

He shuts them obligingly. "Why does she have Conetl's line?" he asks. The two of you keep drifting back to Ico since that not-a-pile you had. The topic's like a sore that you can't stop picking, but..

It's a kind of healing, you think.

"'cause that's what we do, brother. You get a bucket, and you -" His eyelashes fan as he peers through them, just in time to catch the gesture you make. He titters. He always fucking titters, like he's some seven sweep from the films.

"Don't be disgusting." But he's smirking, lopsided like he’s trying to bite it back and can’t quite manage. "I know you spit into a vial,” he says, and ever has there been a motherfucker who sounded so prim? "There's no need for - direct pailing. That's how the psionics corps does it. But - why Conetl's?"

"Stop moving," you scold. With the gray blooming across his cheeks, it makes him look sharp in the way he used to. When you dab the brush down his nose, dragging shadow along the edges, it extends it. Makeup's like singing. There's always something satisfying about taking notes off a page and turning them into proper sound. "Because he's got control, cuz. Only good thing about him. Cross the lines right, carry the genes, and Shep thinks she could get a motherfucker hale enough to split molecules, make the most wicked of miracles. Shit's bull, but.. the fuck ever, right?"

"Ah, I don’t know anything about genetics, I’m afraid. I suppose that could be plausible." He doesn't sound convinced, but you can't bring yourself to care much. Right now, you ain't sure if you're convinced right, either. "Heavens. That’s.. hm. I never thought of them just --”

“Cultivating trolls,” he says, delicate, “like plants.”

(Like dogs, Hadean had said once, but you ain’t thinking about Hadean in the here and now, and Pheres isn’t his boy, no matter how treacherous his tastes lie.)

Then he adds: “Does that mean she has your line, too?"

The brush stills on his face. It’s enough for Pheres to notice, even that little gesture, and after a moment, he reaches up, careful, brushes his fingers across the back of your wrist. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. It's not quite acquiescence, the sort of thing meant to pacify. His fronds don't linger. His wrist stays down. It's just.. comfort, that's all, for all that it’s gilded in bemusement. "Ah! You don't need to answer that. I was just curious."

He's always curious, you want to say, if your tongue hadn't gone leaden.

But you don't need to say nothing. You never do, if you wait long enough; Pheres reads the mood of a room like words on a page, and he clears his voice, lets his breath catch in a low hum. "You know! I used to want to have telekinesis, when I was younger," he tells you, all faux-bright, and he tilts his face up as you dust the highlighter along his bridge. "I just thought.. well. It's the superior skillset, isn't it? All I can do is hide. But a skilled enough telekinetic.. they can do anything."

"They can copy constructs. They can stop bullets. They can move faster than any speedster, and they can start fires, and they can freeze ice. Ah. Water? They can freeze water, I mean, whereas the rest of us are just.. specialised. All we can ever do is one thing, and hope we can do it well, but you people.. you're generalists."

"And you never have to get out of bed to get coffee," he says wistfully. "You can just think about it, and it'll be made. Ah, I tried to train Kabiir to do that, but she just knocked over the pot, instead. And then tried to eat the coffee beans. I adore her, but sometimes I think.. well. She's not very smart, is she? Even for a barkbeast? But, ah, that's unkind. She does try, and I should respect that.."

"She'll have my line," you say. There's no emotion to it. It's just.. a thing, a thing you've been thinking about for the past few nights, ever since the notice had appeared in your box. You've always known you'll be contributing slurry. The thought's never bothered you, even the first time you'd heard it. It was what everyone did. "I'm supposed to go contributin' pails in the next few perigees."

It's his turn to pause. "Oh." His voice's so delicate. And - once, this was the thing you'd thought you'd loved him for, or could have. Pheres is infuriating in the way he minces. When he gets to worrying, he holds back his words like eggs in his mouth, where the slightest slip of a tongue'll shatter them outright. But there's a kindness to it that you can appreciate, one that few trolls manage, and a benefit to that. Especially right now.

"Isn't that early?" he asks. The thought of contributing slurry's never bothered you, but this.. it's strange, in a way you can't place. If you don't know how to feel about it, though, Pheres ain't giving you any guidance.

"By six perigees, or maybe ten." A beat. "They picked folks for me, too. Ain't that something? Here, lift your chin -"

He obliges. His voice's still got that spun glass quality, delicate and free of any kind of filler. "Is that standard, then? Ah, picking your partners. It's very.. efficient, I suppose. I can see the appeal."

"Nah. You're supposed to pick 'em yourself. Doesn't matter much, who's pailin' who. They can pull your bits out of the fucking pail, spin it into something worth using, on the usual. But -" Pheres's watching you, eyes locked on yours like he's trying to drag out a secret. Or carve one out of you. It’s the sort of look you’ve seen him aim at plenty of folks.

Ain’t ever been a time he’s pointed it at you. And there ain’t even a time you’ve stuttered in your goddamn life, either, but now, your words catch. "- uh -"

"Sorry," he chirps, looking down. "I didn't mean to get - ah - if you'd rather not talk about it, it's fine.."

"Just don't stare, little rust. Those eyes of yours make a motherfucker feel like they're about to get fucking ATE." The words come out waspish, but he doesn't wilt. (A half-sweep ago, you know, he would've.) And he just stands there while you take the moment to rediscover your words. None of this is bad. It's just strange, is all. "Why would I mind talking about it?" you say, sharp. "Ain't no need for all that. We're running low on psions. We're runnin' low on genes, 'tween this and the fucking Glub, and our cavern prices are gettin' too high to waste on slurry products."

"We need a few cohorts of set runs. Proper Sincans, 'n' Kayatas, 'n'.. probably Conetl's. He donated sweeps back, wouldn't be fucking surprised."

"They're not going to.." Pheres clears his throat. If his ears could pin back, they might, but instead, he just steps back. When you blink at him, he doesn't smile. It's the first time he might've missed the opportunity, really, in the whole time you've known him. "Ah."

"What?"

He runs his tongue over his lips, a swipe of black over the white. When he opens his mouth, there's chalk blooming on his teeth, because of course it fucking is. He'll ruin his entire face before you're done, if you don't keep moving. "They're not going to pair you with Kindra, are they?"

Except how the fuck are you supposed to keep moving after that?

"Why would they pair me with Kindra?" you demand, straightening up. You've been hunkered over Pheres, but you refuse, not when he's spitting out bile like that.

He frowns at him, folding his arms and slipping his hands around his waist. He's whippet thin, and gaunter still under the influence of the paint. The gesture just emphasizes that. "Don't be like that. It's just a question, Riccin."

"The fuck kind of a question is that? We ain't like that. They wouldn't have us be like that," you snap, and when he pulls back to flatten against the wall, you step forward. Pheres wants to slink away from the discussion. He always does, soon as he puts his foot into it, but -

- it feels like he just slapped you. The idea of you and Kindra together.. it's as bad as if he'd asked you if you were going to fuck your lusus. He knows that! He must know that. Everyone ought to know it, everyone who's ever seen the two of you together, or even heard your fucking names.

You and Kin are written in the stars in a hundred different ways, but pails have never been one of them.

When he looks up into your face, mouth mulish, he tries to step back another step. But then his horns hit the wall behind him. Part of you expects him to wilt, when he realises. Duck his horns and start murmuring apologies, one after another, the way he always does.

He hisses at you instead, and that's different enough that it cuts through your outrage like a knife. There's blotches of brick blooming along the curl of his ears, the only place that ain't swathed in white, but you don't need a blush to see the way his face scrunches. "Oh!" he cries.

"Stop that! You're not - you're not going to intimidate me," he bites off, "just because I said something you don't like. And we're not pale. I'm not going to - to fucking pacify you." He rolls back his shoulders and lifts his chin, the motion jerky. Then he stepa forward, no more fluid for how quick the motion goes. "I shouldn't have to. We're friends, aren't we? We'd better be, if I'm letting you deck me in paint."

"I -" He scowls up at you. You take a step back, and its your turn for heat to flare under your skin. "Yeah," you say, your voice a little sheepish, and it's hard to feel strange when shame's flooding you like icewater in your veins. You’d told him that it was wrong for Sipara to go scaring him, but when push comes to shove..

Maybe this is what comes of being raised with clowns, the two of you. Pheres acts like he ought to, from his blood to his size. But you and Sipara have always shaken your horns and stepped up at the first provocation. You’ve always acted like your blood was cooler than it was, and..

(Gunners don’t get paired up, like fucking plants.)

.. well. If you don’t want him showing throat to every highblood that looks his way, or rolling over for Nzinga, maybe you oughtn’t go trying to play their fucking parts. "We are. Uh. We are friends,” you say, with one long exhale. “Sorry, brother. Shit was uncalled for. It's just -"

"You don't like Kindra like that. I understand.” He brushes his hair back, where a braid has fallen forward, then scrubs at his cheek. His palm comes back white, but you don’t have the spirit in you right now to go smacking hands. Let him ruin it, if he wants. It’s his fucking face. “That's why I was asking,” he says, brisk, like he didn’t notice none at all. “I was concerned, Riccin, that's all, and you needn't go - go- being cruel on account of it."

"You can just say you're uncomfortable," he says. "Isn't that what you told me?"

It's strange, hearing your own words puppeted back at you. But you expect that’s the point of it. "'course I did," you admit, letting your shoulders fall back down into a slouch. He's got the right of it. ".. sorry about that. They ain't pairin' me with Kin. And I'm not uncomfortable -"

"Yes, well, don't apologise, just.. don't do it again. And of course you're uncomfortable. Don't lie to me, either, that's dreadful. But at least they're not encouraging coloursmearing, I suppose, and that's all we need to say on that topic for now." A beat. He peers into the mirror, then puffs out his cheek. It's a blatant attempt to change the subject.

It's one you'll accept, given the topic. "Unlike me," he says, mournful. "You might as well come over here and finish up. Is the black supposed to be leaching into the gray like that? Because, ah.. I think I smeared it again..."

#lowblood problems #[drabbles]#riccin kayata #pheres dysseu #[prose]#inktober #fools gold #for the mention

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peterkayscarshare · 6 years

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Life in the Slow Lane Chapter 3 by OvertheRainbow

She hated arguments. Mainly because she was completely rubbish at them. She couldn’t do confrontation and inevitably ended up in tears within minutes. This time was no exception. It didn’t help that her journey back to Mandy’s had been to the soundtrack of Forever FM’s “Sunday Love Connection With DJ Danny Love”. The whole thing was cheesier than an extra large Margarita Pizza, with stuffed crust, cheese bites, cheesy garlic bread and maybe a fondue thrown in for good measure. She’d held it together through Van Halen’s “Why Can’t This Be Love?” but by the time the late great Whitney Houston had finished belting out the first chorus of “All The Man That I Need”, played with “All my love always” from Leanne in Oldham to Richie in Southport, she was a blubbing mess. That it triggered her memory of John, on their first official “date”, telling her about his dedication to her, that she’d missed by moments, really didn’t help her situation. Try as she might, she found it impossible to be angry with him. Frustrated yes but angry, no. Even if he could never bring himself to fully open up and give her any more than they currently had, even if he could never actually say the word “love”, preferring to make hints and coded references, even if this “thing” was never going to work out, even if he was destined to break her heart beyond any and all repair, it was his to break. It always would be and that was that.

As she finally parked up in front of the house that never really felt like home, Kayleigh took a moment to compose herself. Steve was in his usual location, doing exactly what he always did. Rain, hail or shine. Mandy was on the front step next to a large ladder, looking exasperated, gesticulating wildly and intermittently pointing up at the Christmas lights, which had been hanging precariously from the roof for the better part of a year. As Mandy’s tone varied from a “not in front of the neighbours” whisper, to a socially acceptable outdoor voice, to a full on bollocking, Kayleigh caught the general gist of the conversation, even from inside the car. It was best summed up by Mandy’s final, very audible declaration, “You’re a useless dickhead!” Mandy never had any qualms about venting a sense of anger in her relationship. Throughout the entire tirade, Steve had remained his usual sanguine self. Saying nothing and wiping a spanner on his oil stained shirt. She’d never fully understood the dynamic between her sister and Steve. Mandy had the Kitson feisty gene. Steve was utterly passive to the point of comatose. She wasn’t entirely sure how her sister hadn’t strangled him, or died of boredom by now and yet, somehow it just worked for them. She knew how this latest incident would play out. Steve would leave Mandy to “simmer down”, then eventually fix the lights, at his own pace and in his own time. He’d give Mandy a cuddle, whisper something doubtless filthy in her ear, she’d giggle and smack him on the backside and before long, they’d be disappearing up the stairs. Kayleigh would settle on the sofa with a brew, open her iPad, load up Netflix and put her headphones on. All while contemplating yet another night alone in that tiny box room with a cross trainer, 36 pairs of shoes, a set of Babyliss Crimpers and a plastic heart shaped lamp for company. At least now she could add in another pair of shoes, yippee. Steve tapped on the passenger side window, “You gettin’ out sometime today or what?” “You fixin’ those lights sometime this year, you lazy sod?” came her terse reply as she opened the drivers side door. “Don’t you start. I’ve already had it off your sister”. “I know. I heard. I‘m guessin’ they could probably hear it in Dundee!” “Yeah well, Mandy’s got no volume control.” “She’s got more bloody patience than I’d have, that’s for sure. You said you were takin’ them down the day after New Years! They’ve been hanging up there like an afterthought ever since. They almost came down entirely after that bad weather last month.” By now Kayleigh had retrieved her bags from the car and was heading up the driveway. Steve was still surveying their “festive light display”. “I don’t know. Maybe we should leave ‘em as they are. They look like...what do they call it?… shabby chic”. “They look like shabby shit. Mandy’s right. Get ‘em fixed”, with that Kayleigh went inside, leaving Steve to resume his avoidance of the inevitable.

As she entered the hallway she could hear Mandy “negotiating” with Chloe and Alfie over the evening’s dinner options, “We’re having a roast!” “We want chicken dippers!” “I want a fortnight in St Lucia, all inclusive but it’s not gonna happen.” “It’s not fair!” “No you’re right. Unlike many others, you’re going to bed tonight with full stomachs and a roof over your heads. It really isn’t fair.” “Yeah but we won’t have chicken dippers!” “Your suffering is noted. I’ll call Simon Cowell, see if One Direction want to reform for a benefit gig.” “So, can we have them then?” “Eh...let me think about it...no.” “Muuummmm” “Chlooooeeeee. Both of you, zip it. We’re having a roast dinner. Any more complaints and it’ll be with extra veggies and no Yorkshire’s.” That appeared to do the trick and the pair retreated in defeat. Kayleigh smiled at her exasperated sister. “One of those days?” “Let’s just say it didn’t improve after you left. Sometimes it feels as though I’m tryin’ to manage three kids.” Looking at her bags Mandy asked, “D’ya get what you wanted?” Now there was a question. “I got some shoes and a couple of bits”. “Well then. Let’s see!” Kayleigh produced her purchases to much ooing and ahhing from her sister. “Those shoes will make your legs look incredible! You’ll knock John dead!” Kayleigh’s reaction, or rather lack of it, spoke volumes. “Oh no. Please tell me you haven’t gone and binned him off.” “No! Course not! We just had a difficult conversation earlier.” “Define “difficult””. “I sort of, off loaded on him. I was feeling frustrated and I did exactly what I always hate. I just let it all build up and then got stroppy with him. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on, I didn’t even give him a chance and it all just spiralled out of control. I’m ruining everything!” Suddenly Kayleigh burst into tears. Mandy immediately rushed over and embraced her sister, “Aw, sweetheart.” As she offered what comfort she could amid the loud sobs, Alfie wandered through the hall and declared, “See! Even Auntie Kayleigh wants chicken dippers.” Mandy’s response was swift, “She’s crying because I’ve just told her what’s going to happen if you mention them again!” Kayleigh found herself laughing despite herself. “Listen, I’ve got a roast on. Needless to say, our resident food critics approve. It’ll be an hour or so yet. Why don’t you have a lie down. I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.” “Thanks Mand.” “You really do need to talk to him Kayleigh. This isn’t fair on either of you. You need to explain your feelings and try to get some answers and he needs a chance to understand you and give his side of things.” “I’ll give him a call after dinner.” “Good idea. It would be such a shame to throw it all away when the two of you just need to get on the same page.” “You’re right sis. I can’t lose him because of this. You know, talking’s always been so easy for us. We’ve never done awkward silences. Now we’ve found the one topic that’s guaranteed to be a conversation killer and it’s the one thing we actually need to talk about.” “Well, get some rest and then take on the unspeakable Wonder Woman.” “I’ll fetch me golden lasso and cuffs.” “Now that’ll definitely do the trick.” Mandy grinned and Kayleigh headed up the stairs in the hope that a quick snooze might help her formulate a plan.

“Christ! Take it easy Lewis Hamilton!” John exclaimed, as he swayed precariously in the front passenger seat. “I thought you wanted to get there quickly, Miss Daisy!” “I do! I’d just rather it wasn’t in a bloody body bag.” “Can I assume we’re not heading to Bury for you to have a long overdue booty call.” “Not unless it involves her sticking her boot up me arse.” “Well, if that’s how you like it. I make no judgement. Each to their own.” John gave Jim some vicious side eye. “Where’s your sense of humour these days?” “I’m just finding it hard to laugh at the general fuck up that my life has become.” “I thought we sorted this back at Big Bob’s. You love her, you want her, you just need to get over feelin’ awkward and you can crack on.” “You make it sound so easy”. “It is John. You keep on makin’ it complicated and you may as well forget it. Have you ever actually told Kayleigh how you feel about her?” “She knows. She’s got to.” “How? She a mind reader on the sly?” “I wrote her a song for Christ’s sake! It was all about hearts and journeys and colours and shit and I meant every word of it too. What more does she want!?” “Hearts and journeys and colours?” “Yeah, you know, she walked away with me heart, made my journey through life lonely and turned my world to colour from black and white, that sort of thing.” “You’re no Gary Barlow mate.” “That’s not what she said.” “Yeah, well she’s your number one fan.” “You make her sound like a friggin stalker!” “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want theatrics and riddles. Maybe she just wants to hear you say the word.” “What word?” “LOVE! You bloody idiot!” Why does that matter so much!” “Because it’s a small word that’s about as big as it gets. It doesn’t mean “Iike”, it doesn’t mean “fancy”, it doesn’t mean “You’ll do for now until something better shows up”. It means, you’re feeling it where it matters, where it counts and not just between your legs! It says you could hurt me...maybe even more than I could ever hurt you. That’s what’s freakin’ you out. Isn’t it?” John sighed, “Yeah. Yeah it is. I’d never cried over a woman until Kayleigh. I mean, I’ve been sad before, I’ve even gone off me food.” “Jesus! When were that!?” “Oy!” “Sorry”. “I know now that she can hurt me, more than I’ve ever been hurt before, because she did”. “Now there’s a lyric. Seriously though, do you really think that by just not sayin’ it, you can somehow not feel it. Do you think it’ll protect you? Cause if you think that’s the case, I’ve got one question for you mate...how’s that workin’ out for you?” John put his head back against the headrest and momentarily closed his eyes. It was a silent answer, which somehow spoke volumes.

The rest of their journey was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with occasional instructions on which direction to take, from John. Finally, they arrived on the familiar road that led to Mandy’s house, or as John always thought, to Kayleigh. His heart and his brain were currently competing in a race to the finish that neither seemed willing to concede. “It’s up here on the right. Number 25. It might have a green gazebo.” “A green gazebo!” “Yeah. Her sister’s fella Steve’s into fixin’ bikes.” “That still doesn’t explain the gazebo.” “Fuck the gazebo! It’s not even up!” “Alright John! Calm down.” “Sorry, it’s here with the shitty Christmas Lights. Right, this is it.” “D’ya want me to come with you or wait here?” “Christ! I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know how long I’ll be. She might kick me out before I can get a word in edge ways. Either that or I’ll be here for ages. It’ll be a feast or a famine.” “Well, let’s take it as it comes shall we? You need me to make meself scarce for a bit, I’ll find a Maccie D’s. You can text me when you want me to come back.” “Cheers mate.” “Is that Steve?” “Yeah. He’s sound”. Steve was already waving at John. John and Jim both got out to greet him, “Alright Steve?” “Hey John mate. I wasn’t expecting to see you today!” Furtively looking back at an amused Jim, John attempted a casual reply, “Well, Yeah, we, eh, happened to be in the area and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello to Kayleigh. She about by any chance?” “Yeah, she’s just back from the shops. Front door’s on the snib. Go on in.” “Thanks pal. This is my mate Jim by the way. Jim, this is Steve.” “How do mate.” “How do. Nice bike. Ya can’t wack a Triumph. John’s Dad were into his bikes if I remember rightly. He had a Triumph at one point and...aw what were it called? John! What was the name of that bike your Dad had?” John was already heading for the front door as he replied, “A Land Devil. Steve knows. I gave him some bits from the garage”. Steve replied, “That were very decent of you by the way”. “No bother”. With that John disappeared inside as Steve and Jim stood awkwardly like two spare parts at a wedding. Suddenly Steve produced a flask, “Fancy a brew mate?” “Don’t mind if I do.” Steve poured the tea into the plastic cup at the top of the flask, then refilled his Robocop mug”. “Nice mug.” “Thanks”. Steve looked up to Kayleigh’s bedroom. Jim watched his gaze and followed it upwards in the direction of a window with a heart shaped lamp at its centre. “He in the dog house again?” “How did you guess?” “She gets in a right mood when she’s pissed off with him”. Jim sighed before ruminating, “I think they just need a good talk.” “You ask me they need a bloody good shag!” For a second nothing was said as the two men simply looked at each other, in silence, before they both simultaneously broke into laughter and toasted each other with their mugs. Steve reached down into an ancient biscuit tin and brandishing it in front of Jim enquired, “Hob Nob?” With that, the male bond was firmly created.

John announced his arrival by calling out, “Hello! It’s John”. Mandy was in the kitchen up to her neck in carrots. She was shocked to see him but couldn’t deny that she was also delighted for her sister, “John Redmond! As I live and breathe. What brings you to the bright lights of Bury? Could it be a certain red head by any chance”. Offering her a kiss on the cheek John smiled, ‘Hey Mandy. You rumbled me. She accepting visitors?” “She’s having a lie down upstairs.” “Any chance I could....?” “I’m not sure if I want you to finish that sentence”. “I just want to talk to her Mandy. We need to sort a few things.” “Do me a favour. Try to sort them in a way that doesn’t disturb the neighbours or traumatise the kids.” John smiled and looked suitably sheepish. “Up the stairs, first on the right.” “Thanks Mandy”. “Oh and John, do ya want a bit of roast?” “I’d love to but me mate Jim’s here with me. He’s outside with Steve.” “He can join us too if he likes. I’ve got half a cow ‘ere.” “Thanks Mandy, you’re a good ‘um.” With that, she smiled and retreated to the kitchen as John took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and knocked on Kayleigh’s bedroom door. She’d been lying on the bed with her headphones on listening to an old eighties mix tape. She hadn’t heard the knock at the door, so when it opened and John’s face peaked in, she literally shrieked, “JOHN!” Misty immediately started barking from the back garden. Only Kayleigh could reach that octave. She pulled her headphones off and immediately jumped off the bed. John stood in the doorway, his eardrums struggling to recover. “What are you doing here?!” “Well. I remembered it’s Sunday and I thought you might like a cuddle and a Chinese....or a cuddle and Mandy’s roast...or maybe just a cuddle.” Kayleigh stood so still, that he began to be concerned about what was to come, then without warning, she threw her arms around him and promptly burst into tears. “Oh John. I’m sooo sorry. I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean to be such a nasty cow.” “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t get upset. It’s ok. It’s ok. You weren’t a nasty cow. You don’t have a nasty bone in your lovely little body. Don’t cry love.” “I just love you so much John”. “Look at me.” With that Kayleigh pulled back and faced him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve never said this to anyone before and it’s because I’ve never meant it until now. I should have said it to you weeks ago. The truth is, I probably knew it months ago...but I’m absolutely bloody certain of it now...I love you too Kayleigh Kitson. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone or anything in this world and I’m scared. I’m terrified because for the first time in my life I’ve realised that something was missing and that something was you. If I lose you, I go back to who I was before and now I know that who I was before wasn’t complete. I had a Kayleigh Kitson shaped hole in my heart and in my life and I don’t want to go back. Not now, not ever.”...and there it was. He’d finally said it.

#peter kay's car share #carshare #carshare fanfiction #overtherainbow2

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krustywhore · 6 years

Text

beat and broken spirits

ok i made you guys wait long enough for this lmao (title is from the musical jasper in deadland)

tw: violence and depression (mild suicidal thoughts if you interpret them that way)

thanks to the lovely anon that requested this fic!!! here’s a little long-anticipated au in which jack goes to the refuge instead of crutchie

Jack knew it was stupid. He knew he was abandoning his newsies and virtually all of Manhattan, but he couldn’t care less. He knew Race had been dying to actually do something as his second in command and with Davey there, they’d be able to hold down the fort just fine.

Davey.

God, it had only been a day and he already missed him. Besides, he had no way of knowing if he was okay or not and the suspense was tearing him apart.

Davey was a part of him. They fit together like puzzle pieces, as cheesy as it was. They were two opposite pieces that fit perfectly when they were together, but now they were apart and there was nothing he could do.

Still, he didn’t regret it. Crutchie was his brother. The oldest family he’s ever known and he’d be damned if he ever let anything happen to that boy.

So into the refuge he went. It was a small price to pay, really.

But being away from them all was absolute torture. He’d been with all of those kids every day for as long as he could remember, but they had all spent nights apart in the past. Some more than others with a few kids going home to their folks like Davey or others like Race spending as much as weeks in Brooklyn at a time. Nonetheless, he missed them all when he didn’t have a choice if he could see them or not. Back home he could always spend the night at Medda’s theater if he wanted or even go visit other boroughs occasionally, but he could always go back home afterwards.

Not anymore.

So he kept his mouth shut and tried to make his stay as short and painless as possible.

That proved to be extremely difficult when Snyder came in for his first night. It had been nearly five years since jack had escaped from the refuge, but all of that pent up anger still remained and he held no mercy.

Jack woke up on the floor the next morning with more bruises than he could count.

Despite it all, he kept to himself, biting his tongue when he felt like spewing insults and holding his breath when he felt like crying. It wasn’t healthy, he knew that, but there was one way he would survive in there and that was by hiding anything they could use to hurt him.

He had a few things keeping him going; his family of brother and sisters and David Jacobs.

Davey was really something else. He was someone Jack would’ve never thought he’d find himself caring about, but that boy had a monopoly over his heart and Jack had no idea what to do. He didn’t know what to do with those feelings, but he sure as hell couldn’t make them known here if he wanted to live to see another day.

He was glad he did. Every time he decided to live one more day, there was something that made him regret it. He’d get picked my Snyder yet another time or he’d get sent to solitary for a day, but every time something made it feel like hell was sunshine and rainbows, something else would come around and he’d have a little sliver of hope again.

About three days in, he saw Specs at the barred window and nearly wept with relief. He wouldn’t have cared who they sent, but to see a friend was like a miracle. Still, that wasn’t all as the boy slid a small bundle of papers through the bars and told Jack he would be back with some of the others in the morning. He hadn’t been so happy in ages.

So he tucked the bundle under a mattress and waited until after Snyder had came to make his final rounds for the night. He climbed up to the windowsill once he was sure everyone else was asleep and read every page under the dim streetlights outside.

There was a letter from nearly everyone he loved.

‘Heya Jack, I guess ya’ could say I’s doin’ alright takin’ over for ya’, but it really ain’t the same without ya’. Don’t tell any a’ tha’ others I’s sayin’ that, but you’s way better than I could eva’ be. Wish me luck, Jackie. You’s gonna’ make it outta’ there, I promise ya’, and when ya’ do, I’ll do my best ta’ make sure you’s got somethin’ left ta’ come back to. -Racer’

He knew there was no way Race wasn’t selling himself short, but it was nice to know he’d at least still have a borough to come home to.

‘Jack these kids is losin’ they’s shit without you so hurry up and get ya’ ass outta’ there. -Spot Conlon’

That one was a surprise. Well, not what he wrote, but the fact that Spot Conlon took the time to write something was, well, something.

‘Jack, I don’t even know what ta’ say. I could say thank you’s, but I wish ya’ hadn’t done it. I could say I miss you’s, but that’s not even close ta’ how badly I need ya’ back. Specs n’ Race won’t let me come see ya’, but jus’ know I’d be there if I could. I’ll be here waitin’ for ya’ for as long as it takes. Your brother, Crutchie’

Okay that one he really had to try not to cry. He knew he wouldn’t if it meant it would ruin the writing, but he wanted to so bad.

He could tell exactly what the next one was without even reading a word. It was perfectly written with impeccable spelling and handwriting so neat it could’ve been printed.

‘Jackie, I need you out of there. I don’t know what I have to do, but I can’t do this without you. I can’t seem to bring myself to say anything I need to, but I guess that’s just because I trust you enough to get yourself out of there. I’ll be there to see you soon, I promise. Just hold on. I need you around so don’t you dare think about anything less than coming back home. I’ll wait as long as it takes. -David’

God, Davey just…did things to him. Feelings things. Disgusting, annoying, and painful feelings that would get him killed in a heartbeat if anyone found out.

He quickly stuffed the letters under his mattress and curled up on the windowsill. The next morning couldn’t come soon enough.

So he stood through beatings and woke up to yet another fist to his stomach. The blood in his mouth had become almost natural at that point as he added to the stain on the cuff of his sleeve and collected himself off the ground.

The other kids in the refuge weren’t cruel for leaving him alone, he was the only one they touched and for them to get a break from the never-ending torture of Snyder’s hand, they would take it gladly. Jack understood. The first time he was in the refuge, he would’ve done the same, he didn’t blame them at all.

But he wanted to get out. He wanted to be able to go home. He wanted to be back in the lodging house and lecture the kids about leaving the door open and probably stop Finch from shooting rocks at pedestrians out the window with his slingshot and he wanted to slip a few pennies into the pocket of a kid who’d had a slow day. He wanted to go home and take a head count of all of his kids as they came back from selling and tuck the little ones into their bunks like a real dad and tease the ones cuddled up and sharing together like a real big brother would. He wanted to pretend like he didn’t know what Race was doing when he snuck through the window past midnight with his hair ruffled and his suspenders hastily buckled. He wanted to chase around one of the younger kids that decided to try on Specs’ glasses. He wanted to save Katherine from Romeo’s never-ending advances when she came to visit. He wanted to go home so he could leave again in the morning to go with all of his kids to the circulation gates and see Davey again.

That was the only thing keeping him going as he crawled his virtually-useless form up to the window and grinned at the boys climbing up the fire escape.

He could see the sun spots refracting onto the metal bars and the bright red waves from a mile away but before he knew it, there they were right outside the bars and he finally felt a little closer to home.

“Jack, holy shit!” Albert practically screamed as he climbed up to the window, jack quickly slipping his thin wrist through the bars to quiet him.

“Shut up, ya’ hear? If Snyder comes back ‘ere I ain’t got a chance,” Jack hissed, relaxing a little when he was sure no one was coming. “I can’t have ‘im gettin’ the two a’ you’s too.”

Specs crawled up beside Albert and nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we’s sorry. It’s jus’…ya’ look terrible Jack.”

He rolled his eyes to hide the fact that he knew just how bad he looked and that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“Thanks, real charmers, both a’ you’s,” he teased before they decided that the two weren’t having any of it. “I’s fine, I’ll be out a’ here in no time, jus’ make sure Manhattan doesn’t implode while I’s gone.”

That got a smirk out of Albert at least.

“I think when ya’ get back you’s gonna’ need a new second,” he chuckled knowingly, nudging Specs who groaned.

“What? Don’t tell me Racer cracked unda’ pressure,” Jack exhaled, running his hands through his hair.

“Nah, he’s doin’ jus’ fine, but he’s got some competition now ’s all,” Specs clarified, intriguing Jack.

“Crutchie?”

“Davey,” he revealed, Jack grinning at the mention of the boy.

“Oh,” he spoke softly, a slight redness covering his cheeks as he couldn’t shake the smile. “How is he?”

The two boys looked between each other before shifting towards the ladder.

“He made us promise not ta’ say anythin’ until he could come visit,” Albert started, swinging down onto the ladder. “He’s comin’ by in a few hours. He jus’ had ta’ make sure Les got home okay, but he’s been real worried ‘bout you’s.”

And with that he dipped down out of view and Specs took his place, descending down the ladder after the other.

“Jus’ try ta’ stay safe, Jackie. We’s got a plan in tha’ works ta’ get you’s outta’ there, don’t worry,” he winked, slipping down the ladder and leaving Jack sitting there with a giddy smile on his face.

Davey. Davey was coming to see him. He was going to get to see Davey.

He couldn’t shake the smile off his face for the rest of the afternoon. In fact, he waited on that windowsill all day until he heard the rattling of the ladder and all of a sudden…there he was.

“Jack?” Davey’s shy voice broke Jack from his awe-like trace as he just stared at the boy with childlike wonder.

“Oh my god you’re real,” he spoke, unintentionally out loud.

The other boy’s smile was enough to make Jack feel like he was already out and running free. He made him feel like he was already back home. Davey made him feel at home.

Davey felt like home.

“Jackie…what have they been doing to you?” Davey looked horrified as he slipped his wrists through the bars on the window as let his fingers brush gently over the bruises covering the other boy’s face and neck. He could feel his face heat up at the touch, but shied away, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“It’s nothing, Dave. Serious, it ain’t that bad,” he mumbled, trying to keep the smile on the other boy’s face as long as he could. “How’s tha’ strike goin’?”

Davey looked disappointed at Jack’s sudden change of topic, but shrugged it off anyway.

“We’re managing. We had an idea to hold this rally at Medda’s theater with all the city’s newsies,” he spoke, brightening a little talking about their plans.

“Tha’ rest a’ tha’ city? You mean they’s all with us?” Jack couldn’t help but feel a rise of hope in his heart as Davey confirmed.

“It wasn’t worth it though,” Davey grumbled, his excited expression crumbling.

Jack froze, looking up and reaching through the bars to place his hand on Davey’s knee.

“What d’you-“

“Losing you wasn’t worth it, Jackie,” he whispered, leaning his head against the bars of the window, Jack doing the same. “I…I can’t do this without you.”

Jack felt his eyes burning and his throat close up as he reached through the bars, clinging to the other boy’s hands for dear life.

“I need you’s all ta’ make this work, Dave,” he started, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “I can’t stay in this place, I’s running out a’ things that make me want ta’ keep goin’, I don’t…know what to do without you here.”

As soon as those words left his lips, the tears he was held back for so long just cascaded down his cheeks in an unstoppable flood.

“I-i’s s’pposed ta’ be strong n’ get out a’ here so’s I can get back home, b-but I jus’ want out. Not just out a’ here, but jus’…out in general,” he whimpered, a small sob cracking Davey’s own ragged breaths as he grabbed Jack’s hands, clutching them tightly.

“No, no no no, Jackie I need you! I can’t do this without you much longer, I-I’m nothing without you here. I’m gonna’ fix this, I promise you,” he whispered, neither of them daring to look at anything other than their intertwined hands.

“P-please help me…,” he choked out. “I don’t want to feel like this, it just…hurts.”

Davey nodded shakily with their foreheads pressed together.

“I know, I know, but we’re gonna’ get you out of here in no time and then once we do,” he exhaled, sniffling slightly. “I’m never letting you go again, I promise.”

Maybe it was a mix of all of the loneliness and the finality of their conversation, but for whatever reason, this felt like his only chance. Jack leaned back, Davey’s hurt expression appearing the moment they separated, but Jack simply pulled him close with their hands clasped together as their lips met gently through the bars over the window.

When they separated, it only seemed to hurt more that, yes there definitely was a chance that they’d never be able to do that again, but with one heartbroken smile from each, they promised each other that they’d make sure it wasn’t. Davey slipped out of view, tears still running down his cheeks as he climbed down the fire escape and reluctantly left Jack alone up on the windowsill to sit with his thoughts.

One more day, he told himself. Just keep going one more day.

#my writing #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs

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bananannabeth · 6 years

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A Different Kind of Monster

Billy Hargrove seems to have a habit of getting Karen to answer the door in nothing but a robe. Unfortunately for him, she's noticed that he also seems to have a habit of beating his step-sister.

Or The One Where Karen Helps Get Billy Arrested

Read on Ao3

Read the whole series

Karen wasn’t really sure why the Wheeler house became the go-to meeting place for Mike and his friends. They’d sort of flitted from house to house when they were younger; But then Lonnie Byers had left, and Dustin had arrived in town with just his mom, and even though Lucas’s house was right next door, the boys had gravitated to the Wheelers’. When they’d started playing Dungeons & Dragons, Karen had realised that she was never going to get her basement back. The space became Mike’s, and his friends became regular fixtures around their dining table, and that was just how it went.

Those four boys were constants. Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin, always a group, always causing a mess down in Karen’s basement and always, always the best of friends. Since Dustin’s arrival, no one new had joined. There was never even a flicker of interest in anyone else, never a mention of a new friend or someone else coming round to join in their games. The four of them seemed to be all they needed.

So when Max arrived, Karen was genuinely surprised.

Not only was there a new friend in the group, but she was a girl. Outnumbered four to one, Karen honestly felt a bit sorry for her.

(Of course, she would find out later that there had been a girl in the group before her, and there would remain another girl in the group after her. Outnumbered four to two was so much better.)

Max was shy, at first; quiet and polite, never one to draw attention to herself whenever adults were around. Sometimes, when Karen walked past the stairs, or went down to get a load of laundry, she’d hear Max bantering with the boys, loud and rough - but she’d always stop as soon as she saw they weren’t alone.

Karen didn’t know much about the Hargroves. They were new to town, having recently moved from California, both parents on their second marriages, and mostly kept to themselves. There were rumours, of course, about what could have drawn them away from sunny beaches and brought them to sleepy old Hawkins, but nothing substantial. Nothing that really told her anything about the family.

She learnt much more by watching Max.

Sometimes she’d catch a glimpse of red hair flying down the street, and then see Max knocking on the Sinclairs’ front door at all hours of the day and night, skateboard tucked under her arm. They never turned her away.

The boys were all more on edge and alert, now, but Max jumped the most out of any of them at unexpected noises. And while they’d all turn towards the source, eyes wide, she would always flinch away, hands coming up instinctively.

When they were all there for dinner, Karen caught Max marvelling at the way Mike and Nancy bickered, shooting insults at each other one second and then laughing as Nancy held his arm affectionately the next. Her expression was a strange mixture of envy and confusion, but she’d always shake it off before Karen had a chance to mention it.

The picture Karen gathered of the Hargrove family over those first few months wasn’t a nice one.

It got worse, though.

“Mom!”

Karen started, losing her page in the book she was reading, as someone - Nancy - banged on the bathroom door. She would have been annoyed at her for interrupting her bubble bath, had she not sounded so panicked.

“Mom, I need to get to the medicine cabinet!”

“What? Nancy, are you okay?” she asked, quickly stepping out of the bath and putting on her robe. She opened the door to see Nancy with her hand raised to knock again, looking genuinely scared. “What’s going on?”

She spoke at a million miles an hour, voice shaking. “It’s Max, she’s hurt, I don’t know, she won’t say what exactly happened, but Lucas brought her over and we need bandages -”

Nancy pushed past her and rushed over to the medicine cabinet, piling supplies into her arms.

“Bandages?” Karen asked, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

“It’s bad, Mom.”

Karen tightened her robe and caught a roll of tape as it fell from Nancy’s arms. “Is it - was it something…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.

Thankfully, Nancy didn’t need her to say it aloud. She shook her head. “I think it was her brother.”

Karen froze. “Her brother?”

She remembered a boy with long hair, chiseled muscles visible beneath an undone shirt, a charming grin and a manner straight out of one of her romance novels, asking her where he might find Max, because he was worried sick about her.

She remembered how nice it had felt to have someone look at her - in nothing but the robe she was wearing now - and like what they saw.

Something sad and choking clawed its way up Karen’s throat.

This wasn’t the type of monster she’d been expecting.

Nancy didn’t respond.

Karen followed her down to the lounge, where Lucas was crouched by the sofa, holding a bag of frozen peas to Max’s face and murmuring quietly to her. Steve was pacing back and forth, one hand in his hair and the other on his hip, expression tight.

“I’ve got bandages,” Nancy announced, and Lucas looked at her like she was handing him the sun.

It was only when he shifted back that Karen was able to properly see Max, and when she did that choking sensation in her throat intensified. Half her face was swollen, an ugly mix of reds and purples, and there was blood leaking from her hairline down over her forehead and into her right eye, which was swollen shut.

Karen gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh, my god.”

Lucas’s face fell. “What do we do?”

“We kill the son of a bitch,” Steve growled.

“I meant right now ,” Lucas said, desperate. “Do we call an ambulance?”

Max whimpered quietly, and he gently pressed the peas back against her bruised face.

“Call an ambulance, and call Hopper,” Karen said, surprising even herself with how firm she sounded. “Right now, Steve. And Nancy, get some Aspirin.”

Instantly, Steve was gone, running for the phone, while Nancy dropped what she was holding to the ground and searched through it for the painkillers.

Karen stepped cautiously over to the couch, not wanting to startle Max. “Is she conscious?”

“Hey, Ms Wheelr,” Max said in response, words slow and slurred.

“Hi, Max,” Karen said softly, kneeling beside Lucas. “We’re going to make sure you’re okay, all right, sweetie?”

“‘mfine,” Max drawled. Her bottom lip was swollen and split. “‘s jus’ a bruise.”

“Jesus,” Nancy hissed. She handed over the Aspirin and then wrapped her arms around her waist, looking like she was going to be sick.

“You’re being so brave, Max,” Karen continued, scanning her for other injuries. She could see a splotch of color crawling out from under the cuff of her jacket, wrapped around her thin wrist, but this one was stained yellow. God, how long had this been going on? “You’re doing great, okay?”

The bag of peas slipped and Max yelped.

“Sorry!” Lucas exclaimed, quickly righting it. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry -”

“Hey.” Nancy was there instantly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re doing great.”

Lucas nodded. Tears were running down his cheeks and he’d started shaking. Karen wondered if the initial shock was wearing off.

“Don’ cry,” Max said, her one good eyebrow lowering in concern. “‘sokay.”

“I know,” Lucas said, grabbing her hand. “Sorry.”

“She needs water,” Karen said, craning her head back to look at Nancy.

She nodded and went to get a glass, passing Steve on the way. His eyes flitted between all of them before settling on Karen. “Ambulance and Hopper are on their way.”

“Good, that’s good.” Karen leant forward and gingerly touched the uninjured side of Max’s face, pushing her hair back. A few strands stuck in the blood, and she swallowed thickly as she carefully pulled them free. She wanted to see if she was still bleeding, but she didn’t want to risk hurting her.

“Here.” Nancy returned in record time with a glass of cold water.

They all jumped a mile as the door banged open. Relief flooded through Karen. Hopper was here, Hopper would know exactly what to do, he’d help Max -

But it wasn’t Hopper.

“ Lucas !” Mike screamed, slamming the door shut. “Lucas, we got your message, Code Red, where are you? Lucas, are you -!”

Mike and El froze in the doorway to the lounge. They looked from Max, still lying prone on the sofa, to Lucas, still crying, to Karen, to Nancy and Steve, who were hovering across the room, and then back to Max.

All of the color drained from Mike’s face. “What happened?”

“Billy,” Steve spat.

“He did this?” Mike glowered. He stomped forward, leaning over Karen to get a better look at Max.

“Hey,” she said, looking up at him. “Sorry fo’ gettin’ blood on your couch.”

He almost laughed.

El hung back. She was watching Max closely, her mouth set in a straight line and her eyes dark.

“She’s going to be all right,” Karen assured them. “Hopper’s on his way.”

El’s expression shifted slightly, but she didn’t take her gaze off Max. “How?” she asked, voice low.

Karen looked to Lucas. His fingers twitched around Max’s hand. “I don’t know, she just showed up at my house looking like this… We were supposed to go to the movies…”

“But you’re sure it was her brother?” Karen asked.

Steve answered, “Yeah, this is his M.O.”

She didn’t want to think about the repercussions of that statement. Instead, she focused on gently tilting Max’s head up and holding the glass of water to her lips. “You need to drink this, Max. We’re giving you some pills that will help you feel better.”

Max groaned at the change in angle. “Hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts. I’m sorry, but this’ll help, I promise.” Karen persisted, still holding the glass at an angle, until Max successfully took a few sips. She gave her the Aspirin, made her drink some more, and then let her lie back.

She moaned. “E’erythin’ hurts.”

Karen looked helplessly out the front window into the night. She wasn’t equipped for this, she was just a mom, she was good for scraped knees and bruised elbows, not… not beatings . The streetlamps illuminated an empty, quiet, suburban street. There was still no sign of Hopper or the ambulance.

Without warning, every light in the room flickered.

“Hey,” Mike said quickly, darting over to El. He grabbed both of her hands and tugged on them until she turned to face him. The lights steadied and remained on. “Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna be all right, you don’t have to -”

“He hurt her,” El growled. “He’s bad.”

It was the first time Karen had ever seen El’s powers in action. She knew that this was nothing compared to what she was capable of, but it was enough to send a thrill of fear racing down Karen’s spine. Looking at her expression now, she could easily reconcile the girl in front of her with the one in the photo the government agents had shown her, the one whom they said was extremely dangerous. For the first time, Karen started to comprehend why they thought so.

“Yeah, he is, he’s a piece of shit,” Mike agreed, sounding more concerned for El than worried about the power surge. “But Hopper’s going to deal with him, so you don’t have to.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly and her bottom lip dropped. “How?”

Mike shrugged. “I dunno. He’ll arrest him, probably.”

“No!” Max said, jerking violently upright, sending the bag of peas falling to the ground. “He’ll get out an’ he’ll hurt me, he’ll hurt me again -”

“Shh, Max, shh.” Karen and Lucas gently pushed her back down. “You need to rest, you need to lie down.”

“No,” she whimpered, but was too weak to fight. She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.

“No, no, no, Max you need to stay awake.” Lucas cupped her good cheek. “Max, come on, stay with us.”

The lights started to flicker again. El looked on the verge of tears, scared and angry and overwhelmed. Mike looked helplessly at Lucas, who was too focused on Max to notice anything else.

“Sorry, I just -” Mike licked his lips, glanced from his friends to his girlfriend and made up his mind. “We’ll be right back.”

He pulled El from the room, their murmured voices still audible, but unintelligible, from the other side of the house.

Max blinked. “Lucas?”

“I’m here, Max,” he replied, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

Steve asked the question Karen was thinking. “Is El okay?”

Nancy sighed. “I think it’s… bringing back memories.”

As if this day wasn’t already traumatic enough.

The sound of a car roaring down the street halted their conversation. Karen straightened, peering through the curtains as a blue Camaro drove by. It slowed as it approached Lucas’s house, enough that Karen could clearly see the driver even despite the glare of the headlights. She’d only met him once, but it was obviously Billy. He looked straight at the Wheelers’ front door and swerved into the drive.

“Oh, god.” Karen turned quickly from the window. “He’s here.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Steve declared, hands already balled into fists.

“Steve!” Nancy grabbed his arm and hauled him back. “He’s already kicked your ass once, don’t give him another chance.”

Steve spluttered. “Nance, that was - it was - I totally had him! He fought dirty, hitting me over the head with that plate.”

Karen’s hand went straight to her heart. “He hit you over the head with a plate?”

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was… Well, I looked about as good as Max does now, actually.”

“Shuddup,” Max said, almost casual. “I look betta than you did.”

“Yeah, kid, we know,” Steve said softly, crouching down beside her. He gently cradled her face, studying her injuries. “I’m sorry for joking about it, it’s not funny. You know what I’m like when I get nervous.”

Max hummed thoughtfully. Her eyes were glazed, as if she was only half paying attention to what he was saying. “Billy hit me,” she said again, and then added, “Wit’ his car.”

All of the air was sucked from the room.

Steve’s hands froze, hovering an inch above her face. Karen twisted the tie of her robe into knots around her fingers, heart thudding in her chest. In the sudden silence she could hear Mike and El still talking quietly in the other room.

Nancy blanched. “What?”

Lucas was shaking harder than ever. “He hit you with his car ? Like he ran over you?”

“No, like…” Max took a deep, shuddering breath in. “Like behind me. Hit me from behind. I fell off my board.”

“Son of a…” Steve cut himself off, looking away. When he stood, his shoulders were tense. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to beat his fucking head in, the piece of shit.”

“Steve,” Max said. She gingerly raised a hand and touched her split lip, wincing when her fingertip came away stained red. “Don’ get beat up fo’ me again.”

A knock sounded on the front door.

The room fell silent, apart from a single, quiet whimper from Max.

“Leave it,” Nancy whispered, clutching Steve’s arm in an attempt to hold him still. “Maybe he’ll go away.”

But Billy knocked again, louder, with more force, and Karen just knew that he wasn’t going to give up.

“I’ll answer it,” she said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder.

“Mom!” Nancy looked aghast. “You can’t, you don’t know what he’s like -”

“Nancy, trust me. I can handle him.” Karen gave her best I am your mother and I know best stare, until her daughter shrank back against Steve’s side.

She straightened her spine and tried to hide her apprehension as she walked to the door. Mike and El were hovering at the end of the hall, watching from around the corner. She waved at them to go join the others out of sight, and they did, despite how worried they both looked.

When Karen swung open the door, she flashed her most charming smile. “Well, hello.”

“Mrs. Wheeler,” Billy said, grinning at her. His eyes remained cold, even as he raked them over her, clad, once again, only in her robe. “It must be my lucky night. What a pleasure.”

She tittered, pretending to be pleased. “The pleasure’s all mine, Billy. What can I help you with?”

Her acting skills must have been better than her childrens’, because Billy’s smile didn’t change at all. “I’m awfully sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for my sister, Maxine? We’ve got a family dinner tonight, you see, and she’s not home, and I’m getting worried. I remembered that your house is the hangout choice, so I thought I’d check here.”

Karen pretended to think, fluttering her fingers against her chin. “No, I don’t think she’s here tonight. Mike left this afternoon, said he was meeting up with his friends… Now where did he say they were going?”

She was trying her best to stall for time, praying for Hopper to arrive, but she could see Billy’s patience was already wearing thin. She let her hand fall to her chest, subtly grazing the edge of her robe, as she hummed thoughtfully. The distraction worked - Billy’s eyes followed the path of her hand, travelling across her collarbone and back up to her lips as she pulled her bottom one up between her teeth.

“Mrs. Wheeler,” he began, voice a little rougher than before.

“Call me Karen,” she said with her sickliest sweet smile.

“Karen,” he said, smiling back at her. “I really appreciate your help, but if you haven’t seen Max I’m afraid I should keep on looking.”

She had to keep him here until Hopper arrived, just a few more minutes. “Silly me! The arcade, that’s where Mike said they were going.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve already checked there. No sign of her, unfortunately.”

“Oh. They must have left already, then.”

He hovered on the front step, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re sure they’re not here?”

“One hundred percent,” Karen lied. “I wish I could help.”

“That’s okay, Karen.” He gave her a sleazy grin. “I’m sure I’ll find her. I just have one quick question, though.”

She batted her eyelashes, playing up the innocent act. Her heart was racing, and all she could think was, Hopper’s coming, Hopper’s coming, Hopper’s coming. “Oh?”

“Who’s is that?” Billy nodded to the jacket hung hastily on the coat rack. It was small, bright yellow, obviously a girly design.

She realised what he was thinking and tried to laugh. She brought a hand up, intending to reach for it, but he lunged forward and curled his fingers around her wrist, trapping her there.

“It’s not Max’s,” she said, breathless with fear. Her bravado was rapidly leaving her, disturbing images of Max’s injuries flashing in front of her eyes, patterns matching to the knuckles going white around her wrist.

“It’s mine.”

Karen craned her neck back to see El standing right behind her, chin lowered and eyes narrowed. She tilted her head to the side, and the pressure on Karen’s wrist instantly disappeared.

Billy screamed and clutched at his hand. “What the fuck?!”

El jerked her chin up and he fell forwards into the hall. Karen barely stepped aside in time, and then the door was slamming shut behind them without anyone touching it.

El stalked forward, pausing only briefly to look at Karen, presumably to check if she was okay, before advancing towards the boy who was more than double her size without any hesitation.

He was struggling, trying to stand, but it was like he was pinned on his back by an invisible force. He started laughing, crazed, and lifted his head to meet her stare.

Mike ran behind her. “El, wait!”

She held out a hand and Mike stopped right beside Karen, at the edge of the entrance hall.

“Stay away from my friends,” El said threateningly, looming over the top of Billy. “Stay away from Max, stay away from Lucas, stay away from Steve. If you go near any of them, ever again, I will hurt you. And I don’t need the bat with nails to do it.”

As if to prove her point, she tilted her head again, and Billy’s laughter was cut off by a howl of pain, his fingers on both hands bent at entirely unnatural angles.

“El!” Mike said, more desperately now.

She looked over her shoulder at him, and everything about her softened. She swiped her sleeve under her nose, wiping away the blood that had fallen there, and came to join him and Karen, leaving Billy curled in a ball behind her.

Finally, finally, a police cruiser pulled up on the curb, blue and red lights flashing through the windows. Seconds later, Hopper was throwing the door open and hitting Billy in the back of the head.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, taking in the scene - Billy, curled on the floor and clutching his head, Karen, standing there in only her robe, shaking and holding her wrist, and Mike and El, both looking at him as if daring him to question them.

Karen swiped the back of her palm across her forehead, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Is everyone okay?” Hopper asked.

“No,” Billy wailed. He sat up, groaning.

“Not you,” Hopper said bluntly. He stepped over Billy and looked right at El.

“He tripped,” she said flatly. “And fell on his hands.”

“Uhuh, I bet he did,” Hopper said, in exactly the same tone.

“Chief,” Karen said quietly, gingerly touching his elbow. He immediately turned his focus to her, eyebrows creased with concern. “He hit Max with his car.”

Mike and El hadn’t heard this, yet, and both looked at her, horrified. “He what ?” Mike exclaimed.

“Right,” Hopper said. A cloud passed over his face, and it was obvious he was trying to approach this as purely the Chief of Police, and not someone with a vested, personal interest in these kids. He took a deep breath, and then got the cuffs off his belt and dangled them over Billy. “You’re under arrest.”

He started reading Billy his rights as the flashing lights outside doubled, the ambulance finally pulling up behind the police cruiser.

Hopper hauled Billy roughly out of the way so Karen could open the door and usher the paramedics through to the lounge, where Max was still lying on the sofa.

The next few minutes were a blur. Hopper loaded Billy into the back of the cruiser, calling for backup as he did so. The paramedics loaded Max onto a stretcher and put her in the ambulance. Lucas wanted to ride with her, but they said he was too young, so Steve volunteered to go in the ambulance while Nancy and Lucas followed in his car.

Karen, Mike and El were left behind, standing to the side and watching it all unfold.

“Is Max going to be okay?” El asked, once the house was empty.

“She’s going to be fine,” Karen replied. “The doctors will check her over and then she’ll go home.”

“Home? With Billy?” El asked, obviously confused and concerned.

Karen hadn’t thought of that. “Oh. Well. I’m not sure.”

“Don’t worry,” Mike said. “He’s probably going to jail, and we’ll make sure Max is safe, wherever she goes. I don’t think Billy will try anything again after today, anyway.”

El smiled, pleased with herself. “You think?”

Mike laughed. “Yeah, you terrified him, holy shit. It was almost as good as that time with Troy.”

“The time with Troy?” Karen asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Uh. Well, Mom -”

“Karen.” It was Hopper, hat in hand, standing at the front door. “I need to get a statement, do you mind?”

“Not at all.” She left Mike and El sitting side by side on the sofa and joined Hopper on the front step.

Billy was in the back of the cruiser, Officers Callahan and Powell in front, and it looked like they were having a heated argument despite the fact the two cops had only just arrived on the scene.

Hopper followed her gaze. “Ignore them. Callahan secretly enjoys this part of the job.”

“What, being talked back to?”

Hopper nodded.

Karen laughed. “He should have a kid.”

“God, there’s a terrifying thought.” Hopper smiled, but it fell away as he pulled a notepad from his pocket. “And speaking of terrifying things… Can you tell me what the hell happened tonight?”

She ran him through everything, or as much of the events as she could remember. She tried to be as detailed as possible, tried to make sure that everything was consistent. She didn’t want to make any mistakes or say anything that could negatively impact the case against Billy. When she got to the part where he grabbed her wrist, Karen realised she was shaking, and not from the cold. She hugged her middle, trying to hold herself together.

“It was… It was terrifying, Hop.” The nickname slipped out before she could stop it, and for one horrifying second, Karen thought he was going to call her on it.

Thankfully, he just shook his head and said, “All the shit that goes on in this town, and somehow ordinary people still manage to be some of the scariest.”

He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and held them out to her. Karen hadn’t had a smoke in a long time, not since before Holly was born, but she took one anyway. If ever there was a time for a smoke, this was it. He lit her up and then lit one for himself, and they stood in companionable silence, blowing smoke into the air.

“You know,” Karen said eventually. “It was El who saved me.”

“I figured. She doesn’t like bullies,” Hopper said easily.

Karen looked up at him. He was staring at the cruiser, expression unreadable. “She’s a great kid.”

He smiled at that. “Yeah, she is.”

“Terrifying when she’s mad, though.”

He laughed, long and loud. “Yeah, yeah she is.”

They lapsed back into silence, until Karen dropped her cigarette. Hopper dropped his and crushed them both under his heel, as she was still barefoot. “Thanks for everything, Karen. I’m glad they had you, tonight.”

His words caught her off guard. She blinked up at him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did a lot. Don’t discount how much it means to them, just having an adult there who’s willing to help.”

She realised he was speaking about more than just this one night, more than this one problem, and felt a shift in her understanding of the world. She was truly in it, now, as someone any of the kids could turn to if they needed help, with anything. She was responsible for all of them.

There weren’t really words to explain the gravity of how that felt, so Karen just nodded.

Hopper glanced back at the door. “I know it’s a lot to ask after what you’ve just been through, but would you mind looking after El for a while longer, just so I can go back to the station and write this up? I want to get it processed as quickly as possible.”

Karen smiled. “Of course. Of course, it’s no problem.”

Hopper adjusted his hat and started walking back to the empty cruiser, gesturing for Callahan and Powell to go on ahead and take Billy to lock up. He stopped with the car door open and leaned on the top. “What you did tonight was really brave, Karen.”

She didn’t feel brave. She felt terrified, shaken and vulnerable. But she’d tried not to show it in front of the kids, and she supposed that must count for something. “Thanks, Hopper.”

She watched him drive away, wondering what was going to happen to Billy and, more importantly, what was going to happen to Max. El’s worry about her having to return to the same house as her abusive step brother wasn’t unfounded, but Karen vowed then and there to never let that happen. If she needed, Max could come and live with the Wheelers.

After all, she’d heard that their basement was a great place to stay.

#mine #why do you write like you're running out of time?#content warning: physical abuse #billy is such a douchebag urgh #karen wheeler #stranger things #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #mike wheeler #eleven #jim hopper #stranger things fic

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