#graphic depictions of a lot of messed up shit
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MARLBORO REDS - ANAKIN SKYWALKER
cause good men die too, so i’d rather be with you
summary: mechanic dilf!anakin x gender neutral kindergarten teacher!reader
wc: 8.4k
cw: “soft” dark content, made padme’s death vague on purpose, anakin has the vibes of a married father of 4 hitting on you while you’re waiting on their table at olive garden, daddy kink, anakin imagines killing someone, MALE MASTURBATION (the most graphic fantasies are skull fucking and anakin kinda hoping you’ll tear when he puts it in), bra mention (reader does have a fem style but i’m nb so that’s how i see it and men can also have a fem style), it’s not mentioned but anakin is going through cigarette withdrawals, anakin’s canon typical inability to be in a healthy relationship, possibly predictable plot twist (?), i wanted to be a lot grosser, anakin is 42 and he’s depicted as such, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s), this takes place in the U.S.
requests are open (read the rules first)
block & move on if uncomfortable
do not repost or translate!!
The exhaust fumes transported him for a moment, somewhere tropical with a cigar in one hand and a tit in the other as a wet body slid adjacent to his. His hard-earned vacation went up in flames as a shrill car horn hunted down his eardrums. Anakin snapped out of it and stared through his brittle bangs with dead eyes. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, how to act like a normal human being one of them.
"Alright, that should be everything. Since we just needed to rotate your tires and do an oil change, we're looking at about 142 dollars."
"Thank you so much, I'll just go pay at the front desk. Have a good one!"
Anakin sighed and gave a half assed wave that she didn't even see. He has nowhere near as much spunk as he did back in the day, but his energy is always shot to hell long before he sees his last customer of the day. Luckily it was just a routine maintenance type of thing, he would've just bashed his head in with a wrench if it was anything more.
Puddles of blood trot after said customer, he’s amazed that they can drive so well considering they have a bullet in their head.
There’s no bullet or rivers of blood in actuality, but a man can dream.
His knee joints creaked as he got out of his squatting position. He groaned from the effort while smearing his fingers in more grease trying to wipe them off on the pants of his overalls. The whole workshop smelled like garbage and he probably smelled even worse. His trusty grease rag was subsequently discarded on top of his portable tool tower. He noticed that a tub of lighter fluid was on its side so he prevented that big mess waiting to happen and screwed the cap shut, picked it up, and set it back on the shelves in the storage room. He had to remember to leave one of his employees a post-it notifying them that they were almost out.
His sleeves were shucked up his soft muscular forearm to check his watch. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets like moles in a whack-a-mole machine when he saw the time.
SHIT!
It was 4:30, the time he's expected to be at Alderaan Apples Elementary to pick up his twins. He didn't have the time it would normally take him to drive 20 minutes back to his place for a 10 minute shower, and then drive 30 more minutes to be at his kids' school. He normally didn't work that late, since he owns the shop he can choose his own hours. But Anakin lost track of time obsessing over work and now he'd have to embarrass his kids by showing up covered in it. Their teacher would probably be there to chew him out, but in his defense this really didn't happen all that often.
That teacher being arguably the biggest reason why he hated that they’d see him looking how he did right then. They're awfully pretty, with a chest that he's pictured slapping and sucking while their thick ass recoils from bouncing on his uncut cock. They had just moved to their average sized town at the start of the year, they told him at the parent teacher conferences at the beginning of the school year. Something about yearning to get away from their lackluster small town but also being too afraid to venture out into any kind of big city on their own.
They were making the cutest little gestures when they were shyly talking his ear off too, shifting their thighs together as they swayed and never letting their eye contact stray too far away from their freshly polished mary janes. Anakin was very careful about remembering everything he could about Luke and Leia's first real school year. Hell, he was more scared than they were. But there was just something in the way this new teacher did their best to soothe any worries the kids might have.
"It's okay, we'll be going on this new adventure together. And I'll do my very best to be there for you every step of the way. I hope you can be brave and look after me too!"
Luke nodded timidly but with a newfound sense of determination. Leia shouted an affirmative, being more extroverted in comparison to her brother.
Their teacher was young, somewhere in their early 20's. Most likely having flown into town right after getting their degree. It made something in his gut swirl and simmer, imagining their delicate finger tracing his crow's feet and tugging on the gray in his hair. Their head nestled gently in between his squishy pecs, some of his muscle definition was lost with age but he had a feeling you'd like how much the slight softness of his belly highlighted the muscle underneath.
The cliche apples in the blouse their teacher was wearing seemed to have Anakin in a trance as he zoned out. He grunted in acknowledgement when he needed to and slipped every form and newsletter he was given into his satchel. When it was time to head home, Luke and Leia clung to their teacher's legs. Anakin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and bent over to pry them off. He explained how sorry he was, being a single dad meant that whether or not he meant to, the kids still looked for a mother figure.
He'll never forget the way your eyes widened by a fraction, flicking up to make eye contact with his feigned nonchalant stare. You seemed.... happy to hear that he was single. But that could've just been an old man getting wrapped up in the delusions that he still has it.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Mr. Skywalker. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how hard it is to do what you do everyday, but let me just say that I think you're doing an excellent job."
He thinks you'd do even better.
By the time he had finished reliving that fond little memory, he could spot the street sign for the street the school was on. Ruffling his hair, he made a sharp right turn and slowly pulled into the parking lot. His black chevy truck performed beautifully like always so he gave her a solid pat on the hood. He turned on his heel, immediately seeing his children hugging either one of your legs. He was only 10 minutes late, it wasn't any better but he would never make his kids feel like he abandoned them. He never wanted them to go through what he had gone through when he was their age.
He adjusted his collar and made a last ditch effort to wipe his fingers off on his clothes. He heard a quiet cough. He shot his head up to catch your unamused eyes. A wry smile appeared on his face as he jogged over to you. When he reached the three of you, he immediately crouched and placed a hand on Luke and Leia's shoulders.
"Dad's really sorry, okay? He just lost track of time but he rushed over here as fast as he could as soon as he realized what time it was."
Luke peeked out from behind your leg, "Like the Flash?"
"Yes, Luke, like the Flash." Anakin chuckled, slowly opening his arms wide in the hopes that his kids weren’t too mad at him.
Thankfully he was instantly overwhelmed by two bodies slamming into him, almost knocking him onto the ground and tumbling down the concrete steps. Luke was clutching onto him so tightly and Leia was giggling up a storm. He stood up and gently ushered his kids into holding one of his hands so they could stand beside him.
He cleared his throat a few times before finally addressing you.
"I'm so sorry, I don't know if you overheard but work was really hectic today and I didn't want to waste more time cleaning up. Please just think of me how you did before, I won't look like this tomorrow."
You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. Your blouse had a floral pattern today, blue covered in peonies and apple blossoms. Your pants were some kind of plaid thing but you make them work so well. Anakin had to actively keep his eyes from eye fucking your wide hips and oggling the expanse of your butt in the tight pants. Just thinking about how little must be left to the imagination made his cock ache in his overalls. But he restrained himself, he was going to ask you out when he was in a much better and.... cleaner state. He pushed the thoughts down and settled himself down with daydreams of the near future.
"It's alright, Mr. Skywalker. I understand your situation, so long as it doesn't happen frequently and the children don't have to wait too long, we won't have a problem." You gently admonished the older man, not hiding the protective tone in your voice but still looking up at him with bashful warmth in your eyes.
Stars, the way you were already so protective over his kids made him even harder. He briefly wondered how you'd be with their younger siblings. The image made his heart flutter and a wide smile stretched his lips. He shuffled from one foot to the other, praying to whatever God is out there that he's able to hide his boner in his baggy overalls. He still had quite a few years before he even wanted to think about having the birds and bees talk with the kids. He adjusted his overalls quickly and reached out a greasy rough palm to you.
"I swear this won't happen everyday, thank you for being so kind. I definitely won't forget it." He murmured with a wink that was open to interpretation.
You bit your lip as you leaned forward to slip your smooth palm into his. A sharp shiver traveled up Anakin's body and butterflies erupted in your stomach at the contact. You clicked your heels together and shook his hand, the weight of it made certain kinds of thoughts pop into your head that you'd rather not deal with at the moment.
Reluctantly Anakin pulled his hand away, making sure it lingered more than was necessary or appropriate. He put his back to you and double checked that Luke and Leia had one hand in each of his and their other hands on the strap of their backpacks. Luke had one with planets on it while Leia had one with dinosaurs. He looked down at their feet to make sure that they were going slow and steady on the steps. They reached the bottom of the steps and walked across the parking lot to Anakin's truck. He opened the back seat, lifting Leia first and waiting for her to settle in before nearly throwing out his back bending down again to help Luke in. He buckled them up and made sure their seatbelts were fastened properly. He took a few steps back and gingerly closed the backseat door on Luke's side. His back was screaming at him on the trip around the back of the truck, it especially burned when he haphazardly threw his door open and climbed up into the driver's seat.
The drive home was the same as it was everyday. Leia excitedly told her father all about every single detail of her day and Luke needing less coaxing to talk about his as the school year progressed. Luke was upset when they ran out of apple juice at lunch because that meant he had to have grape. Leia bragged about the rock she painted during craft time. Anakin listened intently, no matter what kind of depraved shit he felt for their teacher, he wanted to take extra care that both of his kids felt heard and appreciated at the end of the day. He responded with jokes and questions to keep them talking, it distracted them from realizing how long the drive was to the house.
They pulled into the house's garage half an hour later. Anakin was about ready to collapse into a pile of bones in his recliner. Luke and Leia ran like bats out of hell through the door and up the stairs to their bedrooms. He could hear the sounds of them putting their backpacks on their hooks and unzipping them to go through the jungle of papers they stash in them.
The fridge was fresh out of Dr. Pepper so Anakin grumbled and got a can of bud lite from his locked minifridge on the counter. He managed to make it to the couch before he let himself fall face first onto the cushions.
The pitter patter of tiny feet bounding down the stairs yanked him from sleep so he sat up and leaned his cheek against the arm of the couch.
"Dad! Dad! Dad! Look!" Luke blurted out, shoving some kind of paper in his dad's smushed face.
Anakin grimaced but made himself sit upright. He reached out and took the paper from Luke, holding it at a good distance away from his face and at a downwards angle so he could read it properly.
"What's this, buddy?"
"It's a paper for the party, Dad! The Valentine's day one that's um.... this Friday, i think.” Luke nervously wrung his hands in his striped shirt as he spoke. “I want to get something for my teacher too…”
Anakin rubbed his shaved chin as he read the paper. Luke was right. It was a newsletter informing parents about the Valentine's Day party each class would be holding on Friday. There would be no working or classes and instead every class would have an all day party for both the children and their parents. Students were allowed to bring any snacks of choice, but they had to bring a box of valentine cards for their class and give one to every student in their class.
"That must be nice, having no school for a day. Well, i'll be there on Friday and tomorrow we can go to the store and get the supplies for you and your sister."
“And we can get something for my teacher?”
“Of course Luke, that’d be a very nice thing to do for them.”
"Okay! Thanks, dad, love you!" Luke cheered, bouncing on his feet and kissing Anakin on the cheek while giving him a second long side hug before running back upstairs.
The next day the Skywalker family was back in the truck on the way to the biggest local supermarket in the area. It wasn't too far, just in the next town over. They could've gone to the smaller store back home, but the kids liked having options and liked car rides that were like little road trips. (Why they hated the longer drives when they were to school but liked them in situations like this, Anakin could sympathize.
Anakin shut the radio off when they pulled into the large parking lot of the supermarket. He put his car in park and turned the engine off. The wind chill smacked him right in the face as soon as he stepped out of his seat. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to warm himself up and walked over to get Leia and Luke out of the car as quickly as possible without freezing his ass off. They did the standard routine of holding their dad's hands while they crossed the parking lot. Anakin was telling them to look both ways to watch out for any cars that were coming as they walked along the crosswalks. Mercifully they weren't in the cold long before they entered the store.
The bright white LED overhead lights made Anakin want to pass out but he followed closely behind the kids that were already running themselves ragged all over the place. He reminded them what they were here for and his arms were pulled to their breaking point all the way to the card aisle. There were so many options of valentine card packs. There were Bluey ones, Spiderman, ones that looked like the cootie catchers you fold and pull apart, et cetera.
Luke ended up choosing Spiderman ones that came with pencils. Leia chose a kitten design for her cards.
Anakin almost fell asleep on the ride home. He let the kids pick out drinks from the little displays in front of the registers so they were miles away in sugar rush land. He made a note to pop a couple ibuprofens before he went to bed. Some days are easier than others but since his wife passed away when his kids were newborns, he’s never known what it was like to be able to depend on someone else to always be there to help. His childhood friend Obi-wan stops by every so often to stay over, his mom and step-dad babysit when he stops being stubborn, but that’s once in a blue moon. The sunset casts light onto the sunspots and hair on his arms. He rolled both of his sleeves up because his body typically runs hot and global warming making the temperature 65 degrees in the middle of February does him no favors.
The McDonald’s they drove through got the kids happy meals wrong three times, something that was clearly a sign of the apocalypse.
He had to remind Luke and Leia not to run too fast as they clammored out of the truck with his assistance and bolted to the front door. Anakin sighed his millionth sigh of the day and clamped a hand on Leia’s head to steady her as he searched his rusty old keyring for their house key. His steady hand inserted the key into the lock, ushering his kids inside with his free hand while he pushed the door open. His long legs moved at a sloth like pace, Leia and Luke ignored him and shot up the stairs like two little rockets.
“Guys, slow down. Marshmallow feet, remember?” He reminded them and leaned around the corner so they could hear him, shaking his head in exasperation when all he gets in response is a couple “Okay, dad!”s.
The white and orange ibuprofen bottle stored in one of the many dark wood cabinets over the fridge beckoned him with a come hither motion. He’s little more than a slave to his baser instincts so he dutifully heeded the call. The cabinet creaked when he cracked it open but he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he dove for the pill bottle and shook out a few orange pills. He exhaled in relief in a way that would suggest he was smoking weed when his adams apple bobbed as the pills hit his stomach.
With that mindless task out of the way, Anakin slowly journeyed up the stairs to get Leia and Luke ready for bed. He kept a stern eye on them to ensure they brushed their teeth, used their mouthwash properly, and washed their faces. After the kids completed their bedtime routines, he tucked them into bed while humming a lullaby Obi-Wan had taught them when he held them as infants. He gave them their time to say goodnight to their mom, Luke looked at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling when he said it and Leia clutched her stegosaurus plushie when she whispered her goodnight.
Anakin didn’t contribute but he warmly kissed his twins on their foreheads and tucked the corners of their comforters around their shoulders.
His heavy work boots thundered against the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked out of their room and down the carpeted stairs to the den. He unhooked the buttons holding up his overalls on his shoulders and shimmied his ruined overalls down to his ankles. His hairy thighs expanded as he stepped out of them so he could kick them to the other side of the room. He was left in only his boxers and a white tank top that would never be white again. So he flexed his arms as he took that tank top off too. Grease stains were all over his body but he could at least take a shower now.
His boxers joined the towels from yesterday’s shower on the floor as his soft cock flopped out. He gave it an absentminded stroke that injected something molten into his bone marrow. He bent over to reach the faucet and turned the water on. The shower didn't start until the water babbling over his thick calloused fingers was hot enough to cook a lobster in.
He rolled his shoulders back as he stepped into the shower. His mouth dropped open in a silent exclamation and his neck popped as his head lolled back. The onslaught of boiling hot water pin pricked his skin in a pleasure-pain sort of way that made his thoughts temporarily quiet down.
His cock gave a couple twitches but Anakin elected to wait until he had at least washed his hair before he rubbed a much needed orgasm out.
3-in-1 shampoo that smelled like some dior cologne was all up in his hair, his hands unhurriedly glided through his short-ish soapy strands. He angled his head back and let the lather he had worked up be drowned out by the shower head. He grabbed his vanilla & shea butter body wash and let the spout rest against his glistening pecs as his fingers curled around the stocky bottle and squeezed. The smooth liquid spurted out over his pecs and dripped down his body. He reached his hands right up under the steady stream and soaped up his pecs, ghosting his thumbs over his puffy nipples before spreading his hands out and spreading the soapsuds all over the rest of his body.
Squelching sounds echoed off the shower floor as Anakin widened his stance. His right hand was subconsciously traveling closer and closer to his half-hard cock. He had worked so hard, finally being able to relax and luxuriate in the silence made the blood in his body migrate further south.
A certain teacher flashed through his mind, his head whipped down in shock to discern how greatly his flushed cock swelled up faster just at the single image of his kids’ kindergarten teacher.
An aurora borealis of fantasies swirled in the air.
You’re kneeling on a pillow (he would be at serious risk of getting more brow wrinkles if you had to touch the harsh dirty floor with your bare skin.) and bobbing your head up and down the fat cock making a bulge in your cheek. Your sparkling eyes have this glazed over look to them as he anchors his hands on the back of your head. He widens his stance and bullies your throat with his heavy cock. You squeak and sputter but you take it like such a good pet. Your plump lips slide off of his meat a couple inches but before he can do anything, you’re groping his taut ass as you wiggle your head down to the base of his cock. Your eyes flutter shut as your brain shuts off; your nose is buried right in his musky bush. His face scrunches up in the best kind of pain, but he locks his gaze on the way your eyes roll back when he begins to skull fuck you.
Thank god for oral fixations.
“Gonna let Daddy soak this warm throat pussy?” Don’t worry, he knows you can’t exactly use your vocal chords properly at the moment. So he nods your head for you, deepening his thrusts into slow sharp jabs.
He’d baptize you in cum if you let him, your skin would look so pretty and glossy covered in it. He’d help you wipe it off after he cements the image of your eyelashes sticking together in his mind.
Now he’s grabbing your love handles while his cock builds his dream home in your guts. Your ass shakes back against his hips as you try to steady the phone in your hands and face it towards the overhead. He grabs your hair in one fist and gently tugs your head up so you can pay attention properly. He didn’t go through all this just to let you hide away from him. In a perfect world, the kids would be staying with his mom so you’d be more than welcome to lose your voice.
The vision in his mind shifts to you being on your back, hands trembling trying to hold your legs as close to your chest as possible. You’re looking up at him like he was born in the center of the sun. He’s looking back at you like you’re the moon made flesh, eternally encapsulated in his sea of stars. Anakin smiles triumphantly but with a heady passion in his gait that threatens to burn his lungs to ash, coughing them up over your open heart.
“You’re doing so well puppy, that’s my brave baby.” He coos and pries your hands off your thighs finger by finger.
Once your hands are free, his larger ones ardently seek out yours like a dog going after a bone. The rough texture of his digits feels like an uncomfortably pleasant caress as they lace together with your own. He doesn’t look at anything else; can’t think of anything else when you make the cutest little watery gasp as his cock humps along the crack of your hole. The red tip of it gets caught against your outer sweet spot as if trying to give your crotch small pecks. His eye wrinkles crinkle when his smile widens and he offers a breathy laugh.
He squeezes your hands tightly as he wraps a hand around his cock and directs it to its northern star. Your nails digging into his knuckles don’t distract from your hole stretching itself wide to suckle at his encroaching length.
And if in the shower he spilled into his feverishly fucked fists at the concept of crimson liquid mixing with cum to make a pink swirl where your bodies meet, you’d never know. He thumbed at the glans under his cock tip as he came down from his high, skirting a fingernail up a vein on the side and wishing he was mouthing the space between your shoulder blades; preening your white feathers with his scratchy tongue.
The next couple days were gone with a couple of blinks. He never deviated from his routine; wake up, wipe off the drool on his face, get kids ready and take them to school, go to work, clean up, go pick kids up from school, help with whatever work 6 year olds would have, put them to bed, jerk off in the shower till his legs ache, fall asleep on his stomach with his the right side of his face smushed into a pillow.
He did find some time to put together a teacher’s appreciation basket for you. You more than anyone else deserved a few something somethings on a day meant to represent love. The gifts were packed nicely and neatly in a vintage wicker basket wrapped in a red gingham bow and covered in see through red plastic wrap. Your reaction would regrettably have to be viewed from afar, but he’d know how to move forward depending on what adorable expression you had all over your face.
The night before the party, Anakin allowed Luke and Leia to stay up a smidge later than normal so that they could get all of their things ready for the party. Anakin’s special present slept soundly in the seat next to his in front of his truck. An additional gift from Luke was tucked inside along with an item from Leia who had insisted on it when she found out Luke was getting you something.. The basket being hidden away for the time being allowed him to focus completely on helping his children with their gifts at the coffee table.
Luke’s eyes were droopy as he wrote down the names of his classmates in the hearts made to look like Spiderman’s mask in his cards. He inserted most of the pencils in the intended slot on the left of the cards by himself before he slumped against Anakin’s arm and weakly pushed the pile of cards towards his dad. Anakin chuckled as he ruffled Luke’s fluffy blonde hair and teasingly whispered that he didn’t know a boy could be so sleepy. His son blinked at him as if to say how unfunny his dad was before yawning and snuggling further into his father.
Anakin pushed the rest of the pencils into the card slots and sealed all of the cards with red heart stickers. He lifted his head to look across the glass coffee table to check in on how Leia was doing. For how fiery his daughter was already at such a young age, she wasn’t immune to getting tired before 8:30. The signature buns on her head that she loved begging him to do for her had loose hairs poking out of them because of how Leia had buried her head in her arms.
Anakin blew a breath out in fond chagrin as he easily reached over the table and delicately removed the pins holding the buns in place. He fluffed out the hair that fell down so her scalp wouldn’t feel weird when she woke up.
He hoisted Luke up in one arm and Leia in the other (something they were getting a bit too big to continue doing) and slowly but surely deposited them on the couch. He snatched a white plush blanket from the linen closet and settled it over them before turning back to the massive amount of paper cards on the table. He finished the last of Leia’s cards a short while later. He sorted the cards into orderly piles and put them in sandwich bags that he took to the kids room so he could put the bags in their backpacks.
Anakin came back to the living room as he tried to shoo the sleep away by digging his knuckles into his eye sockets in a lazy rub. He opened the cabinet and took out a package of pink frosted sugar cookies with red heart shaped sprinkles, a pack of capri suns, and a tupperware bowl full of mini brownies. With a long drawn out yawn he set the snacks out on the counter so that he would remember them tomorrow morning. He got a set of paper plates and a sectioned set of cutlery in case you needed any extra. Maybe you’d give him one of those corny gold star stickers as a thank you.
Friday morning was ushered in by two children risking their dad’s life by flopping on his stomach with all the strength they had while he was sleeping.
“OH FU-“ He shouted before he remembered who was in the room and gently rolled them off of his stomach. “What exactly do you two think you’re doing?”
"It's time to wake up dad, we're gonna be late for school!" Leia said with a dismayed look on her somewhat chubby face.
Anakin looked away and meekly mouthed a 'sorry' as he looked at the led clock that he had forgotten to set an alarm on.
Fuck, not again.
He sat up in bed and hunched over; his head buried in his hands. Luke and Leia crowded around him as they tried their best to comfort their father, giving his back light pats. He let them pull his hair so that he'd look up at them. He smiled in gratitude and crawled out of bed as quickly as he could to get the day started.
He made a comical sight; hobbling around the floor with his ripped jeans pooled around his feet as he raced to get his kids ready for school in time. His belt was a fairly new black leather piece that he'd been keeping for a special occasion, but the anxiety of the morning made him grapple with getting the buckle in place. Once that was done a shameful amount of time later, he shoved his clothes to the side in his closet as he searched for a nicer, more "classy" dress shirt. Anakin gnawed at his bottom lip and eventually decided on a black silk button up that matched his belt. He crouched, chanting in his head that he hoped he wouldn't tear a muscle, and chose a pair of italian leather slides that his mom had gotten him for Father's Day a couple of years ago. The bathroom mirror held back no punches when it showed Anakin the state of his head. He crossed his fingers and smoothed back his hair with the tiniest glob of gel; the water he splashed on his face would have to do some serious charity work. He could only hope that you liked the naturally unkempt but not too unkempt kind of look, a striking sort of ruggedness.
"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad..." Luke droned, understandably fed up with waiting on his dad to deal with another one of his mini mid life crisis episodes.
"I'll be right there Luke, hold on a second, please."
Anakin gave into his son’s begging and let him brush his teeth with the birthday cake flavored toothpaste today. Even though the dentist moaned about how hard it was to clean out when they introduced it to Luke at his last appointment. His Spiderman toothbrush played a jingle meant to sound like the theme song when Luke did his 2 minutes of brushing. Anakin stood protectively behind him as he spit in the sink, his hand hovered over his head so he wouldn't hit it. He took Luke's toothbrush and ran it under the water before he put it back in the clear organizer next to the faucet. He poured the recommended amount of mouthwash from the bottle and passed the lid that acted as the cup to Luke. Luke grimaced but he tipped the cup up so the blue liquid would pour in his mouth, he swished it around and then spat it out too. He sipped from the glass of water that was handed to him and proudly beamed at his father.
"Good job, Luke. I'm so proud of you." Anakin congratulated him, Luke was still finicky about floss so today would not be the day that he attempted to get him to use it.
Being a parent means knowing how to pick your battles and what time to schedule them.
Anakin brushed Luke's hair and fluffed it out a bit like a surfer (how Luke likes it). He grabbed his son by his underarms and lifted him off of the step stool. The mirrors in their house were still a bit too high for his kids to see properly so for now the stools had a purpose. He would be sad when they no longer needed them.
Anakin quickly dipped into the twins room to grab their backpacks. He had already gotten them dressed after he got out of bed earlier. He helped Luke put his on and then repeated the same process with Leia. Her toothbrush made a loud roar when she finished brushing, and she had a fit of giggles in response. His daughter preferred straightforward mint toothpaste so morning routines really weren't that much of a struggle with her. Once she put the glass of water down on the sink, she eagerly turned her back to her dad and pointed at her loose hair. Anakin saluted as he began shaping her hair into the buns she loves so much. He reminded her not to mess with them too much or they'd fall apart, and she always responded that she knew that already.
They got in a single file line on their mission out the door. Anakin nabbed the containers of snacks and briefly freaked out wondering if he lost the cards before he remembered that they were in the kids' backpacks. He double checked if his keys and wallet were in his pockets, and to his relief everything was where it was supposed to be.
Well, mostly everything. He'd never forget about you, don't worry.
He put his phone on do not disturb before tossing in the front seat next to his along with the basket already sitting there.
Anakin told Luke and Leia to buckle their seatbelts as he inserted his key into the keyhole and started the car. He heard them buckle up and waited for the tell tale clicks before putting his car into drive. They had to leave than some of the other kids in their school would have to since they lived farther away, but because it was so early the twins could only yawn and hold onto the other twins' booster seat. Anakin thanked the cosmos and turned the radio on but kept it a low volume; Frank Sinatra's rich voice was the best company on a drive like this.
The school entrance was abundantly decorated. A large white banner along the front entry archway announced the festivities. A flurry of red, pink, and white ribbons hung across the ceiling of the lobby. Every door had hearts representing the students in their class covering them, the kids's names scrawled in their own messy handwriting with cheap crayons.
The door of your classroom was the last one on the left. You kept a bottle of hand sanitizer in front of it because you were very particular about hygiene, a trait that served you extremely well in your job. Luke and Leia pointed out where on the door their hearts were as they waited for you to open the door. The Skywalker family were the first ones there so Anakin wasn't sure if it was okay to just drop in on you unannounced. He wished that you would drop on him unannounced. He cradled his gift basket in his arms as if it were a fragile baby.
A few minutes later, your heels were heard clacking against the tile floor. The silver door knob jiggled before it stopped moving and the door took its sweet sweet time opening. Your head poked out and your face brightened when you saw who was at the other end. You sunk down into a squat, putting your hands on your knees as you addressed the children.
"Why, hello Leia; hello to you too Luke. You're a tad early, but you can go ahead and hang your backpacks on the hooks in your cubbies. I haven't finished setting everything up, so you can sit down on any of those chairs at the front of the class." You greeted them and shook their hands before pointing out where they could sit.
The twins obviously sat together. You didn't have assigned seating in your class, and you felt that Leia and Luke would be more comfortable sitting together during their first year at school. It wasn't guaranteed that they'd be in the same class next year. You were too sensitive to try to separate them. You cried a lot because of how scary school was when you were in their place, so you couldn't imagine being the cause for any tears your students shed.
Anakin was once again too caught up in studying your outfit. You had on a fitted shirt with a cardigan on top, it had thin strings that could unwind with no effort from him if he reached out and just pulled.
But that could wait.
The kids scattered off to choose their seats. Your classroom had three circular tables with five small red chairs. Each chair had a small blanket on the back with a valentine's pattern. The table at the front where Luke and Leia were sitting had heart shaped placemats with a lace trim that looked like it should've been a doily, but in a… good way. You had red and pink plates on the smaller table next to your desk, as well as clear forks and spoons that looked like they had confetti inside of them. You figured that the parents would bring all of the refreshments and you didn't know what your students would want; you thought that the safest bet would be to hang back.
Anakin did the most he could to soften his gaze when you straightened up and automatically locked eyes with the older man. He clocked how you instantly glanced down at the floor for a split second. You adjusted your collar, for some reason, and gave him the world’s smallest smile. Anakin was so certain that if he leaned in close enough, he would be able to hear your heart racing at the same accelerated pace as his.
Some say that means it’s love.
You fluttered your eyelashes, “Hi, Mr. Skywalker, thank you for coming. It’s always a pleasure to see Luke and Leia, but i’m glad that you could be here for them”
“Believe me, no one’s more happy about me being here than I am.” He blurted out without thinking, ‘Uh, I brought some snacks and drinks for everybody.”
You took in the capri suns and the desserts as your smile grew. Your hand curled around his bicep subconsciously, “Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you! I’ll just put those over the-“
You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Anakin sauntered past you to put the food down on the table next to your desk. He placed the frosted sugar cookies down first, followed by the capri suns and brownies.
He turned to face you and his shirt seemed to tighten over his chest as he rested his hands on his hips. His fingers flexed absentmindedly, like they wished they were gripping something else.
“I can handle it, sweetheart. I’m 42, not 72.” He chided you, strolling back over and chucking you under the chin; you were cute if you thought you’d be lifting a single finger the entire day.
The way you nearly fell head over heels trying to fix your assumed faux paus was even cuter, “No, no- I- I didn’t mean anything- I just- Y-you look very capable to me, sir.”
If your brain would let you, you would rip your face off to hide from your big mouth. Why the hell would you tell the much older father of two of your students that you think he looks “very capable”? WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO CALL HIM “SIR”?
Anakin scratched his chin and decided that he’d let you off the hook with no more teasing from him. That’s a lie though, he was confident that you could take whatever he gave you.
“Careful, don’t stroke my ego too much or I'll have to stroke yours. And please, I'd hate to have to remind you again, my name’s Anakin.” He was flirting a little too shamelessly for where you were, but he was still thinking with his upstairs head and guided you to a back corner.
“I actually got you something myself, but uh, if it’s all the same to you, I'd wait to open it until you’re nice and snug at home.”
He gladly took a short walk to your car with you and helped you set the basket down safely in the trunk. He told you to stand back as he slammed the trunk door shut; slapping it for good measure to make sure it was properly closed.
The two of you returned to your classroom and like the good little helper Anakin wanted you to know he could be, he helped you greet the incoming parents and students. He even took any concessions they brought and put them with the others
By 8:15 everyone you expected was in your classroom. A few kids were without their parents so you asked some of the other students to invite them to enjoy the party; a party’s no fun alone.
At some point around 9:00 you had the stray daydream of Anakin pinning you against the wall outside of your door as he savagely plundered your mouth with his teeth and tongue. Finger shaped bruises and a promise to ‘see you at home, baby’ would keep your usually freezing cold body warm. You glance at the man out of the corner of your eye to see that he was already staring. He looked like he wanted to teach you a lot of things.
Whatever that meant.
The morning half of the day consisted of the cafeteria delivering breakfast and watching a couple of movies that the class voted on. The Lego Batman Movie was first (a unanimous decision), and Wreck-it-Ralph was picked after that (some kids wanted to watch the minion movie like always but you were secretly happy that they weren’t the majority.)
Lunchtime was when you decided to let the students have the snacks, they were welcome to go down to the cafeteria with a guardian if they wanted actual food but they didn’t have to. You weren’t surprised when none of the seats became empty.
Anakin had to wrench the small plastic chair away from his ass before he winked charmingly and speed walked to the snack table to help you. The air between the both of you had inexplicably become charged with insurmountable tension. The chaos didn’t give you much chatting time so you could only glances and brush your arms together; how accidental those touches were was up for debate.
Especially when he needed to get through to the plates and forks behind you.
“Sorry, let me just squeeze past you.” He whispered in your ear, his big hands using your waist to steady you as he pressed his back flush against your chest.
In the blink of an eye he was gone. The invisible hands chained to your skin remained. You fanned your face with one of the cheap paper plates as you floated back to your body and got a hold of yourself.
You looked over at the Skywalker trio to see Luke and Leia point at you as they tirelessly tug on their dads sleeves until he caved. You saved him the trouble and went to them, bending down so you could hear the twins properly.
“Do you two need something? I could see you making a fuss over here.” You teased.
“Dad forgot to give you our presents….” Leia mumbled and Luke nodded sharply.
Your eyes widened, “Oh! You didn’t have to get me anything, but the day’s not over yet. You can give them to me now.”
“I did not forget, Leia.” Anakin shook his head, fidgeting in the uncomfortable chair. “They’re in the basket Dad brought, and your teacher has it in her car outside, okay?”
You nodded and confirmed their fathers words, “He’s right. I didn’t know that there were things from you and your brother in it too but it’s safe and sound. I pinky swear.”
Two much smaller pinkies met you halfway and wrapped around yours. The Skywalker twins giggled as they turned it into an impromptu arm wrestle competition and beat you easily. (You felt they were going to snap your finger off if they kept tightening their hold so you bowed out.)
Anakin watched with hearts in his eyes and his head propped up in his hand, his eyes crinkled at the inherent domesticity of the act.
Luke and Leia agreed to call their exhibition match a draw.
The sun had already set by the time you got home. You were so tired that you nearly dropped your keys down the stairwell; you didn’t want to spend your night fishing them out of the grass.The wicker basket in your arms was at risk of falling too but you got your door opened and you crumpled on the loveseat.
“Oof, I should probably get this sorted out now or I'll just forget about it.” You said as your body protested you moving a single inch from your sunken spot.
You grabbed your emerald green pair of scissors and cut the top of the plastic wrap off.The wrapping squealed as you tore it off the rest of the basket. You peered into it and thankfully it looked like a run of the mill teacher’s appreciation gift; for a valentine’s day it was a little strange but since it was from Anakin… you’d slip on your rose colored glasses.
There was a medium sized teddy bear, a couple three wick candles; your favorite was the one that smelled like the conversation hearts candy. There was also a custom made box of chocolates from the bakery you frequented, and three burgundy roses that you trimmed properly before dropping them in the vase on your kitchen island.
The ‘world’s best teacher’ stood out like a sore thumb but it made you smile anyway.
The teddy bear was incredibly fluffy and bubblegum pink; it’s holding a sparkly red heart with the word ‘princess’ sewed in hot pink thread in the center. You swept the fur away from its black eyes so it could see. The bear was pretty cute, and you had a problem handling your stuffed animal addiction, so you headed to your bedroom and laid it down with the rest of your plushies.
You yawned and your mouth stretched like a goldfish when it does the same thing. The strings of your red cardigan came undone by your hands and you let it slide off of you and hit the floor. Your pink ribbed top joined it when you gathered enough energy to give a damn and move your arms.
Your white bra was so plain but like hell if it didn’t make the man palming himself over his jeans rock hard. The kids were sound asleep in bed and the walls were thick so he could be as loud as he wanted. But this particular session wasn’t about achieving some grand climax. No. He just wanted to take things slow tonight. If he happened to gradually tumble over the edge along the way, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anakin loved you, every inch of your body would soon be blissfully aware of that.
The miniscule camera in the dot above the i in Princess loved you just as much.
The fire that would wait to invite itself in for a surprise visit until you had left for work loved you more.
a/n: i had this in the drafts for a bit but i was having a moment so i didn’t post it until now. happy valentine's day 💞
#dividers by cafekitsune and roseschoices#anakin skywalker#anakin x reader#star wars anakin#anakin smut#star wars x reader#mdni#tw dark content#yandere x reader#male yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere smut#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#⚰️.deaddove
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SEVEN - 008
PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[12.2k] based on 1x09 and 1x10.
WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, extreme violence, mentions of child abuse, mentions/graphic depictions of rape/non-con, mild themes of ptsd, mentions of/allusions to death, general angst
NOW PLAYING‧₊˚
A/N‧₊˚ and here is the season one finale of SEVEN :(, kinda sad but excited for season two. this is a long one so grab your takis 'cause this shit's gon be goooood (UDY reference, am i old?)
also this is not spell-checked :(
˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗
AFTER FLEEING FROM THE AIRSTRIP, the four of you found temporary shelter in a junk lot some miles away. You camped there, for what had to be, at least an hour before you watched an unmistakable plane fly overhead.
“And there goes the gold.” JJ said disappointedly, throwing his arms out to the side. “Shit!” He yelled, kicking an already busted up lawn chair.
“Fuck!” Pope hollered, throwing hat so far that it clattered loudly against something out of sight. “God damn it!” He continued raving, picking up an old baseball and swinging at every object within his line of vision. The three of you stood back in shock, never seeing such a display of emotion from the boy.
At least not one this aggressive. He continued breaking and smashing and shattering before deciding to ditch the bat in favor of lifting a large tin trash can, throwing across the concrete.
“Pope!” Kiara called out, flinching. The boy just paced, hyperventilating before collapsing against a worn down bench. He had a look of distress on his face before bursting out into tears.
“I was wondering when this was gonna happen.” JJ spoke lowly, walking towards his friend while Kie looked aimlessly around at the even bigger mess he’d made of the junkyard. The blonde held out a weed pen in the curly-haired boy’s direction, shrugging a single shoulder. “A little weed never hurt anyone.”
“JJ.” Kiara reprimanded. “You know he doesn’t smoke.” Pope looked to the two and then to you, eyes asking for advice. You simply shrugged as if to say why not, watching him snatch the pen from JJ’s fingers.
“Well, maybe not until today.” The blonde taunted as Pope fiddled with the device, eyeing it for a few moments.
“What is that gonna help?” Kie criticized as he contemplated.
“...I lost my scholarship. Walked out in the middle of the interview. It’s gone, it’s not gonna happen.” He told you three sadly.
“You did that for us?” Kiara asked him, face falling.
“No. Not for us.” He corrected, standing from his seat as you replaced his absence next to JJ, leaning your head on his shoulder. “For nothing.”
“Pope-”
“Just let it go, Kie.” You sighed, the girl turning to you. You hadn’t spoken much since you heard the gunshot in the woods, concerned for John B’s well-being and heartbroken about the gold, and everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. “He’s right. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The air around you all went silent, Pope taking a hit of the pen as Kiara silently judged him. You and JJ sat in silence, a comfort shared between the two of you, taking the feeling where you could get it. That was until you heard slow footsteps behind you, heads shooting up to find John B coming around the corner.
You launched yourself out of your seat, running into the boy and dragging him into a hug he didn’t return, the other three following suit. Releasing him, you all took immediate notice of the crimson color decorating his shirt and hands.
It looked half-dried, taking on a color resembling rust or dried tomatoes. It completely coated his hands, even the webs between his fingers.
“...Whose blood is that?”
“JOHN B, WHAT ARE WE DOING AT THE POLICE STATION?” JJ asked as Kiara pulled up next to the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station. It was night time now and the sun had set hours ago. John B had wasted sunlight explaining to the four of you what went down on the tarmac. According to your friend, Rafe had shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin while she was in the middle of arresting Ward Cameron.
“Somebody has to tell them what happened.” The boy in question replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, right before Pope broke out into a coughing fit, perfectly rolled joint still clutched between his fingers. He hadn't let up on the weed since taking his first hit at the junkyard.
“Easy there, Chief.” JJ advised from his place next to you in the trunk of the car, John B and Pope in the back seat while Kiara drove. Then the blonde’s attention was on John B. “I’m just gonna be real with you, right now. You might end up in the lion’s den, but you don’t go there on purpose. You should never trust cops, no matter the circumstance.”
“He’s right, John B.” You pitched in. “You gave the compass to Peterkin and somehow it ended up with Ward. Who knows how many dirty cops are littering that station right now.”
“I agree.” Pope added in. “Fuck the police.”
“You’re going to the dark side now?” Kiara judged.
“When’s the last time the police helped us?” Pope argued back, leaning forward.
“Peterkin looked out for me, alright?” John B finally spoke out after moments of silence, looking at all of you with pleading eyes. “Tried to, at least. They need to know.” He declared before giving you all one last parting look and leaving the car to go into the station and tell the precinct that the Sheriff was dead. And that Rafe Cameron had killed her.
“...How did we get here, you guys?” Kiara spoke, looking at no one in particular. She sounded sad and far away, hands clutching the steering wheel.
“Greed?” You offered, shrugging your shoulders. “A part of me regrets not leaving this alone the moment we found out the boat was Scooter’s and that he was dead. But once we found that compass, there was no stopping.”
“Well, I don’t regret any of it.” JJ piped up, leaning over the backseat, over Pope’s shoulder. “What’s this pity party y’all are throwin’? We found the fucking gold.” He laughed out triumphantly. “And yeah we got screwed but we’re gonna get it back.”
The three of you pondered on his words, more like the two of you considering Pope was getting higher than the Empire State Building. Maybe JJ had a point. But you couldn’t think too much longer when John B came barrelling back into the vehicle.
“Kie! Start the car!”
“What did you do?” She asked, fear written all across her face as she switched gears, two officers coming up on the vehicle and attempting to open John B’s door.
“Kie, just drive!” He commanded, the car speeding down the dirt path.
One of the deputy’s refused to admit defeat, running along the car with her hand still on the handle. “Pull over!” She shouted through the window, banging her free palm against the glass.
“Open it!” Pope ordered from John B’s side. JB looked side to side in confusion before doing as the intoxicated boy said, opening the door and effectively sending the deputy tumbling on her feet and leaving her behind as Kiara kept driving.
“What the hell was that?” You asked incredulously, looking out the back windshield as the two officers disappeared out of sight. But the boy didn’t answer, just looked straight ahead with his lips slightly parted. You reached over the seat, shaking his shoulder. “Hey, John B, what the hell was that?”
“...They think I killed Peterkin.”
IT WAS MORNING NOW AND THE FIVE OF YOU HAD BEEN RUNNING FROM THE COPS ALL NIGHT. There was nowhere for John B to go. The Chateau was no doubt flooded with cops, JJ’s house was just as unsafe, Pope’s parents were mad enough at their son as is, Kiara’s parents would shun him at the door, and you weren’t even sure if your home was your home anymore.
You all were camped out in Kiara’s car on the side of a windy road, camouflaged by the plethora of trees. The Kildare County AM Radio Show playing as you all sat in exhausted silence, seats reclined in uncomfortable positions as you all attempted to get some rest and hide from passing cars.
“...And good news for the residents of the Outer Banks. Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to ninety-percent of the city, should be functional within the next twenty-four hours.”
The host exclaimed as you and JJ nearly jumped when police sirens were heard over the station, two police cars zooming down the road and right past the car you were all hiding in. You let out a breath of relief, letting yourself fall back into the seat.
“..And still no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-” The rest of whatever the radio host was going to say was cut off when Kiara turned the radio off entirely.
“...So, Yucatan it is?” JJ started the conversation.
“Enough with the Mexico bullshit.” John B cringed, rolling his eyes.
“I’m just being realistic here. Who are the cops going to believe? Lord Cameron or us?” He spat out, irritated.
“Sarah will bail me out, okay? She’ll come through.”
“She did witness everything…” Kiara supported the brunette’s ideology. You just scoffed, yawning and rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes.
“If you two believe that Sarah will turn her dad or brother over to the cops, you are beyond delusional.” You threw out.
“Thank you.” Pope agreed.
“We gotta get you off the island.” JJ spoke his mind, sparking up a blunt and shifting to lean on his shoulder.
“The ferry’s his only option.” Pope informed.
“That's do-able, right? Dude, you gotta dip before the entire island’s on lockdown.” JJ told his best friend as you all ducked once more as three more police cars sped by, only rising slowly once the sound of sirens was gone.
“Look, Sarah’s not a Pogue, JB.” You offered the boy a reality check. “She’s not one of us and you can’t rely on her to save you. You gotta think about you.”
“SO, BAD NEWS.” Pope threw his hands out, looking around nervously while also trying to act normal as he walked back to the car. You all were parked at The Ferry dock with John B reclined fully inside the car to remain out of sight. “The Ferry’s closed and there’s this…” He spoke through the rolled down window from outside of the car, passing a paper inside for the rest of us to see.
“...Shit.” Kiara cursed, passing the paper back for the remaining three of you to see. JJ took it as you leaned over his shoulder, you being the only one in the trunk now since Pope took over driving and JJ moved to sit next to JB.
“Twenty-five thousand?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide as you read the ‘WANTED’ poster for John B. His picture and all listed on the sheet. JJ was quick to turn around a throw a palm over your mouth, instructing you to ‘shh’ before slowly removing the hand. “Sorry. But twenty-five thousand dollars on your head?” You directed at JB.
“Congrats, Bree. You’re famous.” JJ said sarcastically, annoyance seeping through his voice.
“So, the whole island’s looking for John B.” Pope sighed, drawing his lips into a thin line, getting into the driver's seat.
“Guys, we can get to the HMS Pogue. It’s small, no running lights-” Kiara started before JB cut her off, little emotion left in him.
“It’s at The Chateau, Kie.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the vehicle. “The cops are probably staked out at every corner.”
“JJ.” Pope perked up, almost giving himself whiplash as he turned around to face the blonde in the backseat. “Does your dad still have that boat? The cigarette boat, The Phantom. The one he used to race.”
“Maybe.” The boy in question replied simply, face void of any emotion.
“Okay, then. We could get it up to the coast, no problem.” Pope said, turning back around and putting his hands on the wheel.
“It won’t be easy, Pope.” JJ advised. “I don’t even know where the keys are.”
“Well, find them.” The curly-haired boy spat out, jittering in the driver’s seat. “Why is nobody moving forward?” He motioned for the line of cars in front of him.
“Should he be driving?...” You threw the question out, noting his behavior and the amount of weed he’d consumed in the last couple of hours. “Pope, buddy, I don’t think you should be driving.”
“Kie.” John B craned his neck to look at the girl in the passenger seat. “Your car is on the poster.” Nobody could say anything before Pope started rapidly honking the horn.
“Hellooo? Can we move it?” He urged. “Come on!”
“Pope!” Kie tried to grab the male’s attention. “Don’t honk the horn! Jesus…”
“Mom, look! It’s that guy! Right there!” Some blonde little shit standing in the grass pointed at the car you were all hiding in, his squeaky voice traveling through the rolled down window. “We get twenty-five thousand if we find him!”
The kids excitement started to draw other civilians attention, the car soon surrounded by curious eyes. One man had the nerve to bang against one of the back windows, smiling as he pointed at John B’s flattened figure inside of the car. You banged back on the glass, startling the middle aged man before yelling at him to ‘back the fuck up’.
“We gotta go. Pope, turn the car on.” Kiara demanded. “Pope, turn the fucking car on!”
“I’m trying!” He protested, fighting with the ignition key. When he finally succeeded, the car flew forward, hitting the back bumper of the car in front of you all. You all shouted at the boy to back up but he just continued driving forward, pushing the car in front of him before swerving to the side and into the grass.
He managed to drive away from the scene and onto the main road, not getting far before he was swerving back into the grass, sending a mailbox flying into the air in pieces. The four of you gripped onto the seats and safety handles for dear life as Pope cheered in the driver’s seat.
“I am livin’ my best life right now!” He hollered with the biggest smile of his face, right before he hit another mailbox, the impact sending you all forward, your forehead coming into hard contact with the back of JJ’s head.
“Ow! Dammit! Pope, pull over!” You screeched from the back seat. He did as you said, bringing the SUV to a complete stop, making the car jerk. Kiara turned in the passenger seat to look at John B.
“You, get out.”
“What?” He looked bewildered at the suggestion.
“We’ll draw the cops while you run. Get out!” She commanded, John B turning to JJ as the blonde spoke quickly.
“I’ll get the boat and we’ll meet in the dump tomorrow, okay? Three o’clock.”
“Yeah.” John B confirmed, nodding as he barrel-rolled out of the car, running through the field and into the woods.
“Three tomorrow at the dump!”
“YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?” JJ piped up, getting out of the car with Pope as you and Kiara followed suit, the SUV that was parked on the side of Tannyhill, just out of sight. Kie had taken the wheel back after it was clear Pope was far too impaired to drive. It was nighttime once again, the chaos causing the hours to tick by.
“She’s the only one who can clear John B.” The brown-haired girl told him simply, getting ready to climb the fence with you next to her, flashlight in her hand with yours clutched between your teeth. “I have a plan.” She muttered, you all landing in the grass and marching through the yard.
“I can do a plan. Plan, plan. Can totally do a plan.” Pope spoke nonsense, the smile never leaving his face as Kiara turned around to face him, irritated and annoyed.
“Can you handle a plan, right now?’ She criticized.
“Of course.” Pope brushed off, dismissing the girl's concerns. “I’m Mister Plan-o-matic.” He assured before breaking out into a rap, a terribly bad, off-beat, and loud rap. You couldn’t contain your laughter, almost snorting at the random action before Kie shot you a look, wiping the smile off of your face as you tried to hold in the laughter.
“I’m sorry. It’s not funny.” You lied, turning to Pope. “Pope.” You whisper-shouted in his direction. “Let’s…save the freestyle for later.” You suggested, a small smile on your face as he quieted down.
“This is a quiet plan.” She talked to him like a baby while you and JJ stood off to the side, watching as she put her pointer finger against his lips. “Okay?” She asked, receiving an absentminded nod from the male in response to which she retracted her finger slowly.
“...I love you, Kie.” Pope said when the girl moved her hand, both you and JJ’s jaw dropping simultaneously.
“What?” Was all the girl offered in response, sighing. Ouch.
“I’m in love with you.” The intoxicated boy clarified, JJ scratching his head and turning away while you stared at the flowers and trees like they were the most interesting things in the world.
“You’re… wasted.” She dismissed his confession, disgust written all over her face as she turned around with the intention to keep walking before Pope pulled her back gently by the wrist.
“I know I’m wasted and that’s why I’m saying this now.” He tried again. “I really feel like this. I love you. I’ve been meaning to tell you-”
“Are we seriously doing this right now?” She cut him off angrily. Pope look stunned, hurt.
“...I’m trying to tell you how I feel-”
“And that’s very sweet, but it’s not gonna happen.” She stated softly but firmly. In his incapacitated state, he took the rejection lightly, a small smile edging it’s way on his face as he scoffed.
“Okay, well, why not?” He asked. “Is it the no pogue-on-pogue macking rule? Because it doesn’t make sense and no one follows it–”
“Look, I want something different.” She blurted, throwing her shoulders up. “I wanna go to Anarctica, I want to ride camels-”
“And I want to do those things with you-”
“No, Pope, it’s not gonna work!” She told the boy, louder than intended as she looked around before looking at him. “It’s not gonna happen...” She said, finality in her voice as Pope’s face fully fell this time, the rejection settling in. Even from your place, several feet away, you could see the tears welling in the boy’s eyes.
“...We should probably get on with the plan now.” You broke up the interaction, figuring someone should step in and lead the group back on the right track. They both agreed, being the first two to walk off, leaving you and JJ stranded in silence.
“I had no idea he felt that way about her.” You said shocked, blinking rapidly. “I mean, I had a hunch but, man.”
“Girls never know when guys like them.” The blonde said from beside you, your face twisting. “Poor Pope.”
“That is so not true.” You disputed as you both started walking after the other two. “Guys are the most oblivious creatures ever.” You told him,
“You're literally a walking demonstration.” JJ threw out humorously, an immediate look of regret on his face.
“What does that mean?” You asked, looking at the boy curiously.
“Nothing. Forget it.” He waved you off, you both bickering quietly as you walked further into the yard.
Catching up to Kiara and Pope, the girl in question explained that JJ and Pope would create a distraction down in the yard so you and her could sneak up to Sarah’s window.
So, you were walking around the house you hadn’t visited in months while JJ and Pope were left behind, hopefully concocting a good enough plan to distract whoever else might be in the house.
“Hey,” Kiara whispered, pausing in front of you. “Do you think I was too harsh back there? With Pope?”
“Honestly?” You started, moving your mouth around before you spoke. “Kind of. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about him and I get your frustration with everything going but rejection hurts. No matter which way you say it. And he’s high, so it probably hurt a little more.” was your honest truth for the girl.
She simply nodded, looking down before the two of you quietly climbed the balcony stairs up to Sarah’s window. You both crouched out of sight in front of the window, the curtains drawn open allowing you to see the blonde girl’s reflection in her mirror.
Her room looked just the same as it did all those months ago. You didn't expect much to change, it was just an odd observation, you guessed.
Kiara knocked on the glass lightly, just enough to gain Sarah’s attention, the girl approaching the window with a smile before trying to open it and failing. The window wouldn’t budge, even when Kiara tried to help from the opposite side.
The curly-haired girl simply sighed before deciding to pull the wanted poster from her pocket, holding it up for Sarah to read. “Were you in on it?” Kiara asked, their voices still able to travel through the glass, slightly muffled.
“Did you think I was?” Sarah asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. Kie contemplated, shrugging as if to say ‘I don’t know’ before ultimately settling on her answer.
“No.” Then Sarah’s pitiful eyes were turning to you, eyes you tried desperately to avoid. She called your name, drawing your attention.
“...I’m sorry.” Was the first thing she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I believe you. About Rafe. I didn’t think he could do something like that and I was just protecting my brother. But he…he’s worse than I thought. I wasn’t a good friend to you then. But I’ll be a better one now.” She smiled smally.
You didn’t realize there were tears in your own eyes until one traveled down each cheek. You quickly wiped the evidence away before attempting to shrug nonchalantly. “...Thanks, I guess.” You mumbled, looking up at the girl through your lashes, smiles breaking out on both of your faces as Kie looked between you both with a motherly pout.
The moment was ruined when Ward’s voice boomed from inside the house, calling out for Sarah. The girl inside jumped, whispering for the both of you to go. The two of you did as she said, fleeing the back yard as fast as you could, trying not to trip down the balcony steps.
You both bolted through the backyard, making note of the smoke coming from the grill on the patio before hopping over the fence and heading straight for Kie’s car where Pope and JJ were already camped out and waiting. Jumping in, Kiara started the vehicle and sped off, hiding between the streets of Figure Eight.
“Did you idiots set the grill on fire?” Kiara asked as she drove down the dark streets, you and her up front while JJ and Pope rode in the back.
“No,” Pope drug out. “It was a pillow that I set on fire on top of the grill. I think I singed my hairline…”
The girl couldn’t help but sigh, turning onto a fairly empty street. You just stared ahead out of the windshield, remaining silent. “What’s wrong?” Kiara questioned you, looking between the side of your face and the road.
“Nothing, it’s just…I didn’t expect her to apologize.” You muttered, looking at your fingers while you played with your nails. You never thought you'd feel anything but hate for Sarah after what happened. But after all, you were a teenage girl — maybe all you ever wanted was a real apology.
“I thought you guys made up on the boat…” Pope slurred sadly, disappointed that his plan hadn’t actually worked.
“Okay, now that we’re like part-time fugitives and our futures are on the line, I feel like we should throw everything out into the open here, full transparency. Kie already told us why she hated her guts.” JJ suggested from the backseat, behind Kie. You looked back at him as he spoke. “What happened between you two?”
You looked to Kiara for confirmation, confused on when she gave the guys the scoop on her ‘Sarah situation’. She just shrugged. “I told them a couple days after they left us on the boat. Figured it was over with so, why not.”
You let out a hum, taking a deep breath before turning back to JJ. “When I first moved to Figure Eight, I was going through a lot. It was right after my dad’s death, I was moving away from the only home I ever knew, and I didn’t fit in with the Kook kids. Kiara was my only friend on Figure Eight and she took me under her wing, even though I didn’t fully expect her to because she was in her own Kook bubble and hadn’t talked to us for weeks at that point.” You explained, leaning on the center console.
“Falling in with that crowd was the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. Late night house parties, drunk driving, just… stupid rich kid shit. But Sarah, Kie, and I were like a trio of our own. Sarah had us over at Tannyhill almost every weekend, that's why we weren’t hanging out with you guys as much…One night, when we’re staying at Sarah’s, I was having trouble sleeping because of my nightmares, I had been for weeks at that point. Months. So, while Kie and Sarah were asleep, I went downstairs to get some water, clear my mind. But I wasn’t the only one awake. I ran into Rafe in the kitchen…”
The car was quiet, the only sound being the tires against the road and the wind whipping by considering the windows were halfway rolled down. “He was surprisingly…caring. Asked why I was awake, if I was okay, and offered to talk. He let me vent and cry to him for hours, something I thought I’d never do in a million years. And I think I just got caught in the comfort of it all and I kissed him. I pulled away right after and apologized but he said it was fine…and then he kissed me again. I knew it wrong and I’m sure he did, too. Not only was he the brother of one of my best friends but I was fifteen and he had just graduated. But that didn’t stop him from leading me up to his room and locking the door.”
“...You slept with Rafe?” JJ asked, hurt.
“For months.” You replied honestly and shamefully. “I never meant for it to go that far. I had no feelings for him and I made that clear. He was a coke head, a general asshole, and just not the kind of guy I would ever want a serious relationship with. We’d just sneak around and hook up. No strings attached, was what I told him. But I guess he still felt like he had some kind of… claim over me.” You explained. “The three of us were at some house party one night and Rafe showed up with Topper and Kelce. I was flirting with some guy and Rafe just got angry, stomped over to me and yanked me by the arm all the way out of the front door and into his truck.”
Your voice started to shake, no longer able to maintain eye contact with JJ. “He just started yelling, calling me all types of names and when I tried to get out of the car he grabbed me by the neck and basically flung me into the backseat. He rap-mmph...” You cringed at your own words, not able to say what you wanted. The idea of the word leaving your lips made your stomach turn. “...He took advantage of me that night, right in front of the house,even drove me home after like nothing happened, like I wasn’t shaking and crying in the passenger seat, watching the blood leak from between my thighs. That was the last time I had seen him, up until the golf course. I told Sarah the next day, that following morning. I felt like I should, I mean it was her brother but she was my friend on top of that. But she didn't believe me. She called me a liar, told me he would never go that far and that she knew I’d been sneaking around with him and that I was trying to turn the situation into something it wasn't. Next thing I know, Rafe is making me out to be the island slut and Sarah is right behind him, laughing at the rumors.”
“Why didn't you tell us?” Pope broke the silence, sounding like he was on the verge of tears himself.
“If his own sister didn't believe me, I didn't think any of you would either. I didn't want to keep reliving it by telling you guys. I just wanted to forget any of it ever happened.”
“I’m gonna kill him.” JJ shook his head angrily, looking out the window as he bit his lip, his right hand curled into a fist. “This is what I mean. Kooks get away with whatever the fuck they want-”
“JJ, it happened months ago-”
“So what?” He shot back, turning to you with tears in his waterline. “I don't care how long ago it was. You didn't deserve that. He raped you, he hurt you and he gets to walk around like nothing happened. How are you okay with that?”
“I’m not okay with it.” You told him firmly, voice watery and upset. “I will never be okay with it, JJ. But that’s just the way it is. I can't do anything to change it now. Believe me, I wish I could do more but I can’t. None of us can.” The car fell silent, JJ shaking his head and looking out of the window angrily. You pondered on what you said, wondering if you should've said anything at all until a pressing thought entered your mind. “Kie! Stop the car,” You commanded, the SUV screeching to a halt as she looked at you. “I need to make pit stop. And no, it can’t wait.”
“HERE. I HOPE IT’S COOL ENOUGH TO DRINK.” You handed the blonde mug of hot chocolate, the two of you sitting at a table in The Wreck, blankets draped over your shoulders with the sound of Kie and Pope’s snoring filling the silence. You’d drove around Figure Eight, police at every corner until the four of you decided to call it quits and camp out somewhere safe.
Well, not before you snuck back into your house and retrieved Marley, the dog taking up space in the backseat between the two boys, never giving JJ a break as she practically curled up in his lap the whole ride to The Wreck.
Surprisingly, The Wreck was the safest place at the moment. The sky was dark, the stars still visible through the plethora of windows that littered the small restaurant.
“I think you need it more than me.” He said, sliding the drink he’d requested over to you. You shook your head, pushing the mug back in his direction.
“Don’t do that.” You said exhaustedly. “Don’t start treating me differently because you know what happened. That’s the worst thing you could do.”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“You can look out for me by drinking that hot chocolate that I burned myself making.” You smiled tiredly, the blonde returning the gesture and taking the ceramic object between both hands, sipping slowly.
“Can I ask you somethin’ though?” He asked your permission, looking up at him through your lashes with tired eyes. You nodded, prompting him to continue. “I’m still lost on how you know Barry. I was gonna ask in the car but the conversation took a left…”
You sighed, hand coming up to palm the back of neck as you tugged the blanket closer to you, licking your lips. “Sometimes, when I’d ride around with Rafe, he would take me with him to buy coke. I don’t know why, he just would. I went into the trailer with him once, too hot to sit in the car. I guess Barry took one look at me and the bags under my eyes and wanted to reel himself in a new client. He offered me some pills. Something he’d made himself, a mix of Ambien and Xanax, said it’d help me sleep and so, I took it. Who knows if it was even safe…” You explained shamefully, shifting in your seat and looking back to make sure Kiara and Pope were still fast asleep.
“...I never had enough of my own money to keep buying it, so Rafe would buy it for me. That’s why Barry called me that stupid nickname, it’s what he would write down in his books. It got to a point where I felt like I needed the pills to even just take a nap when I wanted to or when I just wanted to feel good. It made me have less nightmares, feel less anxious throughout the day. But when I cut off Rafe, the drugs went with him. I walked around high for half of the summer and no one ever noticed.”
“...I can’t imagine that.”
“Neither can I, looking back on it. It’s not something I’m proud of but I’m better now.”
“You didn’t have to go through all of that alone. You could have come to us.” You just scoffed, leaning on the table as he traced the rim of his coffee mug.
“I didn’t even think you guys wanted to talk to me. Me and Kiara basically blew you guys for months for some Kooks who kicked us to the dirt.”
“And we took you back in when you came back. You’re a pogue. We’ll always be here, at least I will.” He chuckled, sipping more of his beverage.
“And I love you for that. Honestly.” The blonde’s blue eyes went wide at the beginning of your statement, as if he was about to spit out his drink until it calmed as you went on. You pondered on his initial reaction before deciding to let it go.
“...And I’m sorry. For not noticing. Someone should have. One of us should have, we’re your friends.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was my mistake, not yours.” You refuted his condolences, waving your hand dismissively. “Besides, our problems have gotten a lot bigger.”
“Who are you tellin’?” He chuckled under his breath, the two of your sharing a fit of sleepy laughter.
“...and J?” You perked up, laughing dying in your throat. He hummed in response. “If you could keep this between us… The Barry thing-”
“Don’t worry about it.” He interrupted you reassuringly, mimicking a zipper on his lips. “My lips are sealed. I promise you.” You simply nodded with a small smile on your lips as you curled up in the dining chair, cocooning yourself in the blanket. You felt a tingling sensation in your stomach before you drifted off that you couldn’t quite place.
“AND THE MANHUNT FOR EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE CONTINUES after he allegedly shot and killed Sheriff Susan Peterkin on a private airstrip after a heated altercation. There have been multiple reported sightings of the boy in the Figure Eight area…” The news played from the small radio box as you all scattered around The Wreck, the sun casting an orange hue over the restaurant.
It was early the next morning and still no word from John B. You hoped he was okay and would still be able to follow through with the plan. You’d woken up on a bench inside of the restaurant, laid down and tucked in with pillow under your head. You couldn’t quite remember if you’d done that yourself.
“Is that gonna be enough food for them?” Kiara asked, grabbing edible items from the cabinets inside The Wreck as you and JJ bagged them.
“I mean, for a couple weeks that’s all they need, so…” JJ replied, eyeing the items inside of the paper bag.
“...I think I actually hurt his feelings.” She spoke despondently, referring to Pope. You and JJ grabbed the two wooden crates full of snacks and ready-to-eat meals and followed the girl through the back of the restaurant.
“Maybe he was too high to remember what happened.” You threw out, watching your step as to not fall with the large bin obstructing your view.
“I hate to admit it but I miss the old Pope. At least I knew what to expect from him-” She was cut off when Mrs. Carrera stormed towards her daughter, you and JJ stacking the crates into the trunk of the SUV.
“Where have you been?” The older woman demanded to know, throwing her arms out for them to land on her hips.
“I’m..fine. I slept here.” Kiara replied, perplexed as to what her mother’s issue could’ve been.
“Well, we were up half the night scared to death, lookin’ for you.” She told her child before looking past her and at you. “And your mother has been looking for you for days. When’s the last time you been home?” You simply didn’t reply, not wanting to disrespect Mrs. Carrera with the anger that surged at the mention of your mother. “Were you even gonna tell us where you were?”
“I’m telling you right now.” Kiara said simply, tucking her waves behind her ear.
“What the hell are you three up to?” She looked between the trio of you as you and JJ stood on either side of Kiara after loading the groceries into the trunk.
“Sorry, Miss Anna, but we have to go.” You told the older woman sadly. "Also, could you feed my dog? She's inside..." You requested sheepishly.
“Sorry…” Kie muttered, walking forward as you and JJ got into the car.
“No, absolutely not.” Mrs. Carrera blocked Kie’s path. “Have you heard what’s going on? Have you seen the storm that coming? This is not safe, Kiara!” She told her daughter as if she was crazy.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I have to go…” Kie’s voice wavered as she lowered herself into the driver’s seat next to you with JJ in the back.
“These cops are armed, Kiara. They will shoot you, I am not letting you do this!”
“Mom, John B needs me!” She shouted, pointing at herself and shutting the door. “I understand, I’ll be careful!” She continued through the glass. Her mom never stopped, begging for her daughter to get out of the car and go with the safer option. Kie just apologized over and over, switching gears and driving away.
THE SUV PULLED TO A STOP IN FRONT OF THE MAYBANK RESIDENCE. You turned around to face JJ from your place in the passenger seat.
“Home sweet home.” He proclaimed sadly, his eyes teary and face red. You couldn’t help but pout, watching as he pushed the car door open and got out. Seconds later, you followed suit — unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out. “What’re you doin’?” The blonde questioned you as you dusted yourself off.
You just shrugged and looked at him, jutting your bottom lip out. “I’m going with you.” He was quick to shake his head, his hands on both your shoulders as he pushed you back towards the car.
“No, no, no. No, you’re not.” He refused your assistance. “Get back in the car.”
You simply brushed his hands off of your shoulders, walking past him. “No. C’mon-” Suddenly, you were being pulled back by your wrist, facing the boy once more.
“I’m not lettin’ you go in there. It will only take a second, just get back in the car, please.” He was pleading with you but his eyes wouldn’t work this time.
“It only took him a second to do what he did to you.” You refuted, pulling your wrist out of his grasp gently. “So, I’m going with you. And we don’t have time to argue because we need to meet John B.” Was all you said before turning around and continuing to walk towards the front door of the house.
You told him he’d never be alone with his father again and you meant it. The blonde reluctantly followed behind you, his heavy boots not making his appearance known for once as you both tip-toed into the house, the door creaking as you did.
The floor stuck to the soles of your shoes as you both crept into the house. It was a mess — flies buzzing around the dishes piled in the sink, shoes far too large to be JJ’s scattered across the floor, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol lingering in the air.
JJ immediately spotted his father, sprawled out on the couch and snoring loudly, a half-drunken bottle of whiskey behind him. His son walked over to him slowly, eyeing his father with caution.
“...Dad, I need the keys to the Phantom.” He spoke to his father’s sleeping figure as you stood feet away, watching the interaction happen. The older man didn’t wake up, his snoring fit just getting louder. “Dad?’ He tried again to no avail, eyebrows twisting as noticed the male’s unusually deep slumber.
He looked around, blue eyes landing on an empty pill bottle on the coffee table.
“What is it?” You asked from your place a few feet away.
“...Ambien.” He said despondently, a undertone of anger seeping through. Neither of you said anything else about it, JJ putting the pill bottle back down and turning back to his father, spotting the keys dangling from the chain around his neck.
Grabbing a pencil and an exact-o knife, he knelt next to the middle-aged man, gulping harshly as he did so. You could see the fear bubbling within him, whether it was the tears in his eyes or the way his hands shook. Luke’s eyed edged open just as JJ was lowering the tools, the boy freezing in place.
“...I didn’t expect to see you.” Luke rasped, you immediately put one foot forward in case something were to happen. But he seemed calm. Tamed… “School out already?” He questioned, the first thing the man reached for in post-sleep daze being the open beer on the coffee table.
JJ’s face twisted in on itself, his fearful teary eyes filling with confusion. “What?”
“Did you ditch?” His father coughed, JJ’s blue eyes quickly fleeting in your direction for some kind of reassurance. Security. “You can tell me if you did.” The older man smiled drunkenly, laughing. JJ’s expression softened in the slightest and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as he replied.
“Yeah… yeah, I did. Hit the break, y’know.” He shrugged, feigning carelessness. Luke just laughed, struggling to stand from the couch in his disorientation.
“I hated school, too. My boy!” He cheered, slapping a wobbly hand on JJ’s shoulder in congratulations and in order to stabilize himself most likely. Your hand clutched the doorframe, biting the inside of your lip now knowing how quickly the older man’s switch could flip. “Look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes…But sometimes, I-I see your mother in you and it gets me a little tweaked, y’know?”
All JJ could do was stare down at his feet, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to will the tears brewing in his eyes to subside. “You’re a good boy.” Luke proclaimed, smiling at his son. You didn’t know if he was drunk or possibly having a moment of clarity. “And I love you, son.” He told JJ, pulling the blonde into a tight hug, patting him on the back.
JJ’s eyes met your own over his father’s shoulder — blue eyes surrounded by trails of red, tears making his pupils shine. What bothered you the most was the fact that he didn’t blink. For the entirety of the hug, which was long enough, JJ didn’t blink, not once. You could only wonder what was going through his head.
“...Love you, too, Dad.” He said, strained. But his expression remained all the same. But his voice made it seem as if the words he spoke brought him physical pain. Luke’s arms fell as the delirious man practically collapsed onto the sofa, losing consciousness once again. JJ’s face was flushed, tears trails shining as he yanked the dog tag with the keys from around his father’s neck and took swift steps in your direction, attempting to brush past you and leave the house until you gripped his upper arm.
“JJ-”
“This?” He cut you off harshly, whipping his head in your direction as he sniffled his feelings away. “This is why I wanted you to stay in the car.” He said, expression softening as he gently pulled himself out your grip and left the house.
“THERE SHE BE…” JJ gawked as he pushed open the garage door, revealing a large, pristine boat in the middle of the room. He was in a significantly brighter mood since you’d left his house, you refusing to let him wallow in his mild-anger towards you and riding in the backseat with him. You were surprised when he let you take hold of his balled fists, whispering your apology into his ear as he simply nodded and hummed. You didn’t miss the way Kiara kept glancing at you both through the rearview mirror.
“The Phantom.” He bragged, dragging his hands against the exterior as you and Kie stood by, letting him ramble and gloat. He needed something good right now. “A 1983 Formula 402 SR1 — the first boat to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours.”
“...It’s kind of a junker.” Kiara said unimpressed, staring blankly at the blonde.
“Really? She’s right there, Kie.” JJ reprimanded. “She can hear you. You would not be smokin’ weed right now if she never existed.”
“Let’s just hope she runs.” You butted in, leaning against the boat, not too far from JJ.
“She’ll run alright.” JJ spoke in confidence, winding up a wire under the boat. Tires screeched against the concrete outside and Kiara threw her hands up in the air.
“That’s Pope. Finally!” She cheered, skipping towards the garage exit when Rafe’s frame rounded the corner, your back straightening and eyes going wide as you both locked eyes.
“Hey there,” The boy breathed out, taking steps closer as Kiara retreated slowly, her hands balled into nervous fists. “What’s goin’ on? How you guys doin’?” Then a wolf-whistle was heard from behind you, the three of you whipping your gazes around to find Barry entering the garage, his signature smirk adorning his features.
“Well, well…” He drawled, getting closer to JJ until he was close to pull a gun on him. A small gasp leaving your lips as JJ threw his hands up and Rafe made his way right next to Barry. “See, don’t think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I’m here because I want… my mothafuckin’ money!” He yelled before kneeing JJ in the abdomen, making the blonde curl in on himself.
“Barry!” You protested, immediately grabbing JJ and attempting to push the drug dealer away with your free hand. It was to no avail, however, when two strong arms wound around your waist and picked you up from behind. And unless Kiara had suddenly hit the gym, you knew exactly who it was and that knowledge sent you into a frenzy. “Get your fucking hands off me, Rafe!”
You kicked wildly as the boy drug you farther and farther away, watching helplessly as Barry beat on JJ and Kiara laid on the garage floor, holding her now visibly bruised knee.
“It’s not you we want, sunshine.” Rafe assured, setting you to your feet in a corner and gripping your shoulders. “Where’s John B?”
“I’m not telling you shit!” You spat nastily, pushing the man away from you with all the strength you could collect.
“I really wish you didn’t do that…” He spoke menacingly.
“I don’t care.” You spoke, voice wavering as you struggled to get your eyes to leave his. But you felt as if you needed to watch his every move — the ways his fingers twitched, the way his eyes squinted, the vein that was popping on his forehead. “I know what you did.” You provoked. “You killed Peterkin.”
You don’t know exactly what you were hoping to achieve by saying it but you instantly regretting when you saw the way his face morphed — the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, the clench of his jaw. So hard it made his head shake in the slightest of motions before his hand went around your throat, squeezing tightly.
“Don’t you ever let me hear you say those fucking words again.” Your hands grabbed his forearm as you gasped for air, the sounds of Barry kicking JJ and Kiara yelling out becoming muffled audio in your ears. “You got that?” He questioned, your own eyes drifting to the figure appearing behind him holding a weapon up. “You got that?!” The Cameron boy shook you before yelling out in pain as Pope hit him in the back of his knees with what seemed to be a metal pipe.
Rafe’s grip on your throat fell as he did, bent over in pain as Pope struck him again, the metal clanking against his bones. You fought for air to enter your lungs as you watched the boys fight, wondering where Pope learned such coordination as he dodged blow after blow from Rafe before delivering a plethora of his own.
Your attention was stolen when you saw JJ punishing Barry, wondering when he’d gotten the upper hand as a soft hand on your back made you flinch, turning to see Kie. “Are you okay?” She asked, eyes swimming with worry as you nodded. At some point, JJ had managed to incapacitate Barry, leaving the drug dealer on the ground as Rafe and Pope continued to fight.
Truthfully, the fight between them had ended once Pope delivered a nasty blow to Rafe’s temple, rendering the boy disoriented and open for Pope to continue his assault.
“Pope, that’s enough!” Kie yelled, standing back as Pope ignored her. He hit Rafe in his stomach, then his chest, then his face, sending his body spinning away from the boy.
“Pope!” Kiara tried again.
Rafe was drooling blood, eyes spinning wildly as Pope grabbed a leather rope, wounding the object around the Cameron boy’s neck and pulling tight. Kiara pleaded with Pope to stop, said that he was going too far. But you stood there, not saying anything — eyes focused on the way Rafe choked on his own blood, the way his hands clawed as the machine underneath him, the way his own eyes drifted to yours and seemed to plead for help.
The same yours did all the those months ago.
And in that moment, you started to wonder if you had ever truly gotten over what happened. Or if you ever would. Because, in that moment, you wanted Pope to kill Rafe. And you wanted to watch him do it.
JJ managed to get a hold on Pope, the dark-skinned boy meeting Kie’s eyes and deciding to drop the rope, leaving a heaving Rafe beaten and bloodied on the garage floor. You started to come out of your own haze, eyeing Pope as he looked down at Rafe in terror of what he’d done. What he could’ve done.
“We… we gotta go.” Kiara stuttered, eyes fleeting between the three of you stood starstruck as Rafe rolled around. She wasted little time in walking back to her SUV, her legs carrying her there as she wobbled from side to side. You and JJ stood back as you watched Pope’s anger rebuild, your friend leaning over the bloody boy and talking lowly.
“Stay off The Cut.” He warned. “We don’t want you on this side of the island. Any of you.” He threw his words back at him, the same words Rafe had spat at you that day on the Golf Course.
“DUDE, WHERE IS HE?” Kiara said, a tone of annoyance in her words. We’d arrived at the meeting spot right on time, but John B was no where to be seen. Pope had calmed down significantly since the incident at the garage but you hadn’t spoken since then. The moment playing over and over again in your head. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.
“He’ll be here. Just give him a second.” Pope assured the girl, spots of Rafe’s blood staining his shirt. Police sirens wailed as a squad car pulled up behind you three, lights flashing as they came to a stop. You all tried to remain calm as you anticipated what the police could want now while also praying that John B didn’t pull up just as they’d arrived.
All of your worries went with the wind when John B hopped out of the driver’s side, cutting off the lights and sirens and pulling a backpack up on his shoulders with a semi-solemn look on his face.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” JJ smiled from his place behind the wheel of The Phantom.
“Shoupe let me take it for a spin.” John B smiled smally, flipping his curls out of his face as he edged closer to the four of you. Kiara was the first to give him a hug, embracing the boy with a giggle as JJ spoke.
“It wasn’t easy, bro, but I got The Phantom for you.” He said triumphantly, holding up the keys between his fingers and tossing them to John B who caught them between his palms. “You ready to go?” The blonde asked, standing on top of the boat as you all watched John B’s face fall.
“...Where’s Sarah?”
Kiara looked around, lips pursed in confusion before she spoke. “She’s not with you?”
“No, no, we got separated in the swamp, she said she was gonna meet me here.” JB panicked, eyes fleeting to the trees surrounding the four of you as if she would appear from between them. “I’m not leaving without her.”
“John B, “ JJ started, kneeling to level his eyes with his best friend’s. “I know you feel bad for leaving but there’s no time, dude.” John B simply clenched his jaw and looked away. “You’ve got plenty of gas, plenty of food. Once you get around that point, it’s a straight shot across the sound to Dismal Swamp, alright? Once you get there, lay low. Hang out for a couple weeks and then go overland, cross the border at Brownsville, you got that? Brownsville.” JJ detailed, hand now firm on JB’s shoulder.
“...Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” He spoke, staring out into the distance. Snapping back, he got onto the boat as JJ hopped off. It was only then you realized that you’d been standing in the same spot when the three of them — Kiara, Pope, and JJ, had their hands on the rails ready to push the boat into the water.
“Guys?” John B gathered all of your attention. Hands gripping his backpack straps for dear life as his eyes watered. “I’m sorry for basically…throwing us off a cliff with this whole treasure hunt thing.” His voice cracked, the sound snapping you out of your stupor as you felt your face fall. In all of your years of knowing John B, being his friend, being his sister, basically — you’d never heard him so remorseful. So defeated. Not until his dad died and only again at this very moment.
Something willed you to move, carrying your feet closer to your four friends until you were close enough to grab onto the boat rails and haul yourself up next to John B, stabilizing yourself and throwing yourself onto him in a hug that took him a moment to return. You could feel the tears building in your eyes as you buried your face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your dad.” Was the first thing you could think to say, the Routledge boy chuckling sadly in your ear.
“Yeah. I’m sorry about yours.” He returned, patting you on the back. You pulled back from the hug, hands still on his upper arms.
“I’ll finish this.” You nodded sadly, biting your bottom lip as small tears ran down your cheeks. “For the both of us.” John B didn’t say anything, just nodded sadly as well, a pitiful smile on his face. “Stay safe, Bree.” You said in farewell, squeezing his arm and turning away to get off the boat, joining the other three behind the rails.
“Forget all this sad shit, bro.” JJ sniffed, throwing his arms over all three of your shoulders and looking up at John b. “Everything that happened? We did it together, man. Pogue style.” John B laughed breathlessly, eyeing the four of your gratefully, almost like he was trying to commit your faces to memory.
“Pogue style.” He sighed back.
“Now, get out of here! Please…” Kiara rushed.
“Yeah, we’ll see you down in Mexico.” Pope pointed, a sad look swimming in his eyes despite his tone.
“Love you.” JJ left the words with his best friend, John B returning the gesture before pausing his walk to the cockpit of the boat.
“...Tell Sarah I said goodbye, okay?” He choked out, the four of you nodding in agreement. He gave you all a grateful nod before settling into the boat, the rest of you putting in effort you push the boat into the water as the sound of the engine starting up echoed throughout the trees.
You could see the way John B purposefully avoided all of your eyes as he sped off, the boat getting smaller which each passing second as you said goodbye to your friend.
Once he was out of sight, Pope was the first to turn around, coming face to face with Kiara as you and JJ walked out, their conversation still able to heard.
“You okay?” Kie inquired.
“...I’m sorry for…acting like a dumbass. I was just upset.” He stammered, you and JJ leaning on the car and being nosey. “And I was being petty and-”
“It’s okay.” Kie breathed out, shaking her head.
“I just wanna be friends again.” Pope admitted, tone exhausted and shoulders dropping as thunder rumbled, the sky darkening within seconds. Kie stood there, looking at Pope’s outstretched hand. But she never shook it. Instead, edging forward and embracing the boy into a hug. Pulling back from the exchange, you didn’t expect her to go in again, this time for a kiss.
You and JJ exchanged looks, you were sure you looked confused but you couldn’t quite read JJ’s expression. Nothing was detectable from his dilated pupils or the way his eyes kept flickering between yours and your lips. And for a brief moment, you found yourself wanting to kiss him. But the thought made your stomach turn so wildly that you had no choice but to look away.
You were just vulnerable right now, you thought to yourself.
Police sirens appeared out of nowhere, somewhere between three and four squad cars surround the four of you from all angles. Your hands went up as Shoupe and a dozen other officers and FBI agents exited the vehicles, half of them with guns drawn.
“We’re too late, goddamnit!” Shoupe reprimanded himself. “Bratcher, tell your men to stand down.” He directed at the brown skinned man with an FBI jacket on, the man in question motioning for the remaining agents to lower their weapons. “Let me talk to these kids.” Shoupe shook his head defeatedly, approaching you all with hands on his hips. “Alright, where the hell is he?” None of you responded. “Where the hell is he?!”
Still no response. You guessed his next tactic was to try and interrogate you all one by one. “JJ? I see you’re livin’ up to your name.” The blonde simply huffed and shook his head, a small smirk on his lips as he stared straight ahead. “Pope, how ‘bout you?” He tried again. “This isn’t a fuckin’ game! You can do the right thing, right now. Where’d he go?” He yelled in the boys face. Typical, unmedicated Pope would’ve caved under this kind of pressure. But you think the marijuana had left imprint on him somehow as he stood, perfectly composed.
The four of you stood, wordlessly and stoic. If Shoupe wanted to find John B, he’d have to do it his damn self.
THE SUN HAD GONE DOWN A WHILE AGO. Shoupe had detained the four of you, taking you all to the tent his team and the FBI had set up to overlook to water surrounding the Outer Banks — the lighthouse providing the best outlook, they were just waiting for Dominion Power to restore the power to the city. But you were praying John B had gotten away already, or that he would before that inevitably happened.
The environment gave you a headache — the flood lights, the police lights, the constant ringing of phones, the news vans outside trying desperately to get a word out of you and your friends. But you all remained silent — no word on John B, Sarah, or their whereabouts.
You were all in direct earshot of the conference table. Hearing dozens of law enforcement agents talk about John B like some internationally wanted serial killer was disheartening. It made you angry.
“Do you think he made it by now?” You whispered in JJ’s direction, the blonde sat on your right with Kie and Pope to your left. Your leg was bouncing nervously against the ground, your fingers fiddling with each other in your lap. JJ’s blue eyes fleeted between your leg and hands before planting a warm hand on your thigh.
“I hope so. But something tells me he went to find her first.” He spoke honestly.
“Her?” You asked, your mind blanking from the stress.
“Sarah.” He replied simply, you nodding and drawing your lips into a thin line. The two of you sat like that for the next few passing moments — in oddly comfortable yet tense silence, JJ’s thumbs absentmindedly drawing circles into your thigh.
The FBI agent that Shoupe had called in had his entire crew on standby, his eyes laser focused on the waters in front of him. It was too dark to see anything beyond a few miles radius, but it still made your heart jump just thinking of the possibility that John B could be out there.
“We need eyes on the other side of The Point.” He snapped at the agent next to him, the man passing on the order. It didn’t seem like a routine command. It was urgent, like he saw something.
You felt a frantic hand shaking your thigh, directing your sights back to JJ whose eyes were focus on everything you all. “Shit. Look,” He jutted his head in the direction of an open end of the tent, bringing your attention to the lights turning back on throughout the island. Section by section until the island was lit up like a Christmas Tree.
And it seemed like any prayers you’d made all those hours ago never made it up to the man in charge as the one light you hoped would never work again lit up the sea in front of you — The Lighthouse giving every person around you a clear view of the boat you’d all said farewell too just hours prior.
“That’s them!” Some random deputy yelled out. “There they are!” He pointed, John B and Sarah’s figures, outlined like two deer in headlights as The Phantom waded aimlessly in the water, people crowding around the edge of the grass to see them like some kind of tourist attraction.
The bald man at the head of this operation now, taking over Shoupe, called in his radio immediately. “Bogey spotted off the lighthouse, running lights out. I think it’s them…”
You didn’t think your heart could drop so far, the feeling cause you to almost dry heave as you gripped JJ’s hand, that was still on your thigh, for dear life. Siren wailed across the waves as two coast guard boats revved up, heading in the direction of The Phantom. Right on time for John B and Sarah to start the engine and speed away, out of the lighthouse’s direct spotlight. But they were still visible.
Journalists, news anchors, and conspiracy theorists all rushed as if they could run after the boat, watching the chase take place. The crowd formed within your line of vision, making you no longer able to see what was going on. You silently thanked God for it, you weren’t sure if this was going to go as planned anymore.
And you knew this only ended in one of two ways — with John B in jail for life or with the four of you seated right now at another funeral.
You’d forgotten all about the oncoming storm, and all sorts of terrible thoughts filled your mind. Kiara got up from her seat as Pope called her name, the girl attempting to push people out of the way.
“I can’t see. What’s going on? Excuse me. Move out of the way!” She tried, the crowd just regenerating every time. Pope put a hand on her shoulder, turning the girl to face him with tears in her eyes. “We don’t know what’s happening, Pope! Don’t you care about what’s happening?!”
He just nodded, pulling the hysteric girl into him, letting her cry silently on his shoulder. You and JJ just sat in silence, hand in hand. You felt the tears running but didn’t care to wipe them. No version of this scenario played out in your favor. And though you’d never give up John B, what else was there left to do?
The thunder clapped harder and brighter, the ground beneath you trembling in the smallest of motions. The radio on the center of the conference table carrying a digital voice throughout the tent.
“Suspect is attempting to escape south. Our attempts to contact the vessel were unsuccessful. We’re gettin’ hammered here.” The man on the other end of the radio warned, probably hoping his supervisor would tell him to end it, to turn around and let them go. You could only imagine the disappointment when the lead FBI agent spoke back.
“...Hold your position, Captain. I think I’ve got one more card we can play.”
A sigh came through the radio. “Roger that.”
You couldn’t help sigh yourself, the sound coming out strained and shaky as you closed your eyes and squeezed JJ’s hand tighter. You shook your head side to side, hoping the tears would go away.
“Hey,” An all too familiar voice came from beside you, opening your eyes to find JJ staring back with tears just waiting to fall. “It’ll be okay-”
“Don’t.” You cut him off immediately, shaking your head and biting your lip. “We both know that’s a lie so please don’t lie to me right now. It’ll just make it a lot harder when…”
“When what?”
“They’re driving them right into the storm, JJ.” You reminded, angrily. But the anger wasn’t directed at him. “We all know what’s bound to happen.” But JJ’s eyes were now stuck where yours had been just seconds prior, following his gaze to find Ward Cameron at the head of the transmitter now, microphone in hand as the FBI agent stood next to him.
You watched as his thumb hit the button on the side. “...John B?” He called, hand shaking as he did so. God, this man was an actor. Putting on the performance of a lifetime. “I know you’re there, son. I know you can hear me.” The audacity, you thought. The audacity of Ward to refer to John B as son, knowing what he’s done. It made you sick. “If you love my daughter like I think you love my daughter, then you will turn that boat around and come back. You are going into a storm that you cannot survive.” He reprimanded.
The words made you wince, more tears falling from your eyes. A mix of premature grief and overwhelming infuriation. This man, this killer, had a team of law enforcement agents behind him while he framed a teenager for murder right before their eyes.
“John B, I am begging you. Think of her and turn around.” Silence. The entire tent was filled with tense, consuming silence. One part of you wanted John B to remain silent. But the other wanted him to speak, just in case this was the last time you’d ever hear his voice.
“...Ward Cameron, do you hear me?” The static crackled, all four of your ears perking up.
“Yes.” Ward straightened in his seat, feigning relief. “Yes, son, I’m right here.”
“...You killed my father, you killed Owen Carter, and you framed me for a murder I didn’t commit!” John B’s voice bellowed clearly. “You took everything from me!” He cried, the sadness in his voice seeping through the radio. “But I’m still here. And I swear to God, Ward, I will come back one day and take what’s mine.” JB threatened, Ward going rigid in his place. His eyes were wide and anticipating, hand shaking as he seemed to be deep in thought and rage.
“...So, you listen to me, all right?” John B continued. “I’m comin’ for you. I’m coming. For you.” The entire space was filled with that gut-wrenching silence again. Ward had nothing left to say. To these strangers, he probably portrayed as a sullen father who’d just lost his daughter.
But to you, he was manipulative killer who got his kids involved in his world of crime. And sure, maybe he regretted it. But none of you were looking for regret. Besides, if Sarah can’t forgive her own father. If she can’t find some reasoning or justification for his actions, why should any of you?
One deputy broke the silence. “We’ve lost their radio signal, sir…”. Shoupe was quick to comfort his long-time friend, removing the radio from his hand and speaking into the intercom.
“Those are kids out there. Don’t stop lookin’.” He commanded his team. Now he cared about them being kids? Not when he was right there, driving them into the storm? He planted a steady hand on Ward’s shoulder, leaning down to his ear. “You stay right here. We’re gonna needa talk to you…”
ALMOST AN HOUR WENT BY before the team started to pack up. The table in front of you all was now gone and everyone had cleared out. Apparently, the four of you had to wait until your parents showed to take you home and claim custody, which was a whole ‘nother nightmare in itself. Kie’s eyes were still puffy from crying but now she just remained with a permanent frown on her face and Pope had been running a hand through his hair for the past half hour, trying not to lose it.
You couldn’t really place how you and JJ felt. For once, you didn’t know. It felt you’d both just lost a brother.
“We got Search ‘n Rescue on standby.”
“Any response?”
“They’re not calling it off yet…”
Officers chattered mindlessly, paying no mind to the catatonic teens staring out at nothing in front of them. Shoupe came into the tent wearing a weatherproof yellow jacket, two men trailing behind him in identical attire. The four of you stood swiftly, waiting for the Deputy- Sheriff, to speak.
“Did you find them?” Pope urged, almost pressing the man. Shoupe gritted his teeth, shaking his head side to side in response.
“...No.”
“So, they got away?” Kiara spoke optimistically, her tone rising more than it had in the last couple hours. Shoupe swallowed, avoiding all of your eyes. And somehow, you just knew.
“We, uh…we lost them.” He said firmly, holding back his own emotions. How does a man go from wanting nothing more to find a “fugitive”, dead or alive, to seeming remorseful that said teen was now gone. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” You spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, voice small, strained, but still furious. “That’s all you have to say yourself? Is that you’re sorry?” You took a step closer, voice trembling dangerously as a hand latched around your wrist — JJ.
He directed his gaze to Shoupe. “What do you mean you lost them?”
Shoupe sighed, raking a hand down his face. “They took an open boat into a tropical depression.” He retorted professionally.”
“...So, they’re dead?” You asked tearfully, fists balled painfully at your sides. Shoupe eyed you pitifully.
“We…don’t know.”
You couldn’t help but snatch your wrist out of JJ’s hold, taking steps forward until you were just inches away from the Sheriff’s face. “Whatever happened to them,” You started, anger consuming your words. “It’s all. On. You.” You said, enunciating each word with a finger to his chest, no matter how watery your voice sounded. “Do you understand that?!” You voice rose as you shoved the officer.
The two men on his side grabbed you and pulled away just as Pope’s voice rang out. “He didn’t kill anyone and you know it!” One of the men turning his attention to Pope, holding him back. Then JJ was lashing out, Kie’s face morphing as she started crying again.
Two figures ran into the tent, Kie’s parents. She let out a sob as she ran and embraced her mother, the remaining three of you calming down. The officer let Pope go as his mother approached him, pulling him down as his dad trailed in right after her.
Pope broke down in his mother’s embraced as he grabbed at her back as if he was falling. Heyward set a fatherly hand on JJ’s shoulder, the blonde heaving as he looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry.” Pope cried as Heyward joined the hug.
You heart didn’t drop when you saw your own mother standing at the entrance to the tent, raincoat on with the hood over her head as your eyes connected. You didn’t cry or smile or run to her. You just stared at her with every ounce of disappointment, anger, and hate you’d ever felt in your entire life.
And when Heyward broke the group hug to let JJ into the family hug between Pope and his parents, your eyes drifted to Kiara and her parents, who were looking at you. You wondered if they knew, but then you assumed that that was a crazy idea. Her parents were more your father’s friends than they ever were hers.
When your eyes went to find your mother, she was gone. And you accepted the invitation of comfort from the Carrera’s, letting tears flow freely and sobs leave your chest.
Maybe JJ was right.
Kooks versus Pogues?
They always, always win.
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Obsidian | One | myg (m)
☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader
☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.
☾ Word Count: 10,012
☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and body dismemberment, a lot of blood, Yoongi is brutally wounded/gutted, near-death experience, traumatic loss of parents, mention of suicide (not actual, but metaphorical), this is pretty blood and gory but not gratuitous? Death of a koi fish rip Agust the I.
☾ Published: April 22, 2023
☾ A/N: Don’t ask me to explain myself. I have no idea what I’m doing and my Aries moon is in full control of me and working me like a robot. This is a series or something I don’t know. I have no plans and no thoughts, just brain rot. Inspired by Jade City by Fonda Lee, the movie Colombiana, the movie Scarface and by my fuck it we ball attitude about writing what I want when I think of it. Also please note that the order of first and last names will be done in Western fashion in this, as this story does not exist anywhere real-world-adjacent and thus, will be first name > last name.❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
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An emerald Radiant walks into the bar and makes a mess. It sounds like a punchline, but you never hear the end of the joke. Only the hook and the line. No sinker.
Before he arrives and messes everything up is important, though.
-
Market Town is a mess. Each side of the road has storefronts with open doors, neon and holographic signage blinking on and off with the shitty pulse from the electricity grid. In front of them on the side walks and spilling into the street are the stall vendors, ever-changing and ever-moving sales carts, tables, boxes and people hawking their wares, fruits and trinkets at the hundreds of people who writhe through the market.
It smells terrible. You keep to yourself, all the stink of bodies and rotting fruit and the sizzling fat of meat making your head dizzy no matter which way you navigate. Market Town stretches an entire district, street after street of stores and people and things and it feels like it never ends, the stench of humanity clinging to you like a second skin.
Water crashes down on a man selling lab-grade jewels to a wary-looking mother and daughter. They flinch away from the seller as he sputters and screams, soaked in sweat and whatever liquid has been tossed out an apartment window from above. He cranes his neck up to locate whoever tossed the water - or more likely, piss - out of the window, but he has hundreds of options to choose from from the apartment building that towers behind him. You grimace and step further into the middle of the street. Most of the apartments in Market Town have years worth of failing plumbing, and you have no desire to be showered with piss and shit.
It’s too early in the evening for the lights of the neon advertisements glittering in the air above your head to cast a blinding light on your eyes. Their glow is not yet painted on the surge of people coming and going, but you know by sundown Market Town will be a watercolor of holographic and neon advertisements courtesy of Roanoke Insurance, Jend Cosmetics, and Jura Jura Coffee: Best Brew In Diade.
At least Market Town has sensible advertisements. It isn’t the vibrant horror of naked figures bent over, or the bloody holograph of a man having his brains blown out. Crimson District has no shortage of unique and salacious advertising and the money its businesses generate make the lights and the glow much harder to ignore, even in the daylight. It’s part of why you prefer to scrounge around Market Town like a mangrove rat.
Well, and it’s what you can afford.
Namjoon’s work stall floats around Market Town. Usually, you can find him tucked between Margot’s fruit stand and Len’s divination table. Namjoon likes to nibble on Margot’s sweet strawberries in exchange for fixing the till on Margot’s stand, and Len is an okay stall neighbor when he isn’t so drunk that he’s trying to convince you that the end is near and the world will be swallowed in garnet and obsidian.
That sounds lovely, you always tell him.
Prepare for the end, Len always answers.
The sweet smell of tangerines reaches you through the sizzling smell of frying meat a few stalls over. It’s better than the rank stink of flowers wafting from a stall a few carts over, your head dizzy with the fragrance as you approach Namjoon, Margot and Len.
Margot’s fruit always smells better than any other food set out across tables and bins on the street. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the pretty, green citrine jewel that he keeps tucked away and out of sight and away from any wandering eyes.
You can’t blame him. Even though citrine isn’t high on the Jewel Caste, Market Town is primarily made up of Nulls. They certainly can’t radiate with jewels, but they sell them at a high price to those desperate enough to feel the power of a Radiant. Some even promise to sell jewels that make Radiants Caste Drop to a new, darker and more powerful color.
Only an untrained Radiant would think a Caste Drop is possible through a rock. It’s stupid, really. Anyone who wears or buys jewels openly in Market Town is asking to be robbed and gutted. You’ve even seen as light as a diamond caste get murdered here.
A kindly young man stands in front of Namjoon’s stand. It’s really just a wooden table with a bunch of trinkets, clocks with too many dials, little holographic action figures jumping into different poses, and other wares that run on technology or small engineering. Namjoon prides himself on being the best tinkerer, though you’re willing to bet he’s a lot smarter than that.
Namjoon himself isn’t much older than the man at his table, gesturing to a watch as Namjoon leans over it. Namjoon’s brown hair has grown long, shoved back by a black, cotton strip he has tied around his head to keep it out of the way. He’s dressed in a dirty shirt and canvas overalls, a little bit of grease on his arms. His glasses slide down his nose, lenses fogged with the humidity that collects in Market Town and makes it rot.
A fly buzzes toward you from Margot’s stand. He has his back turned to you, placing little white pricing stickers on his green melons. He's a little portly and very short - especially when Namjoon stands and shakes his customer’s hand. Namjoon is taller than most people, and much broader, his shoulders wide and arms thick, suggesting that he did something else before he became a tinkerer in Market Town.
You don’t know what, though. You can sense the peridot he has hidden in the soles of his boots and the fingertips of his work gloves, giving him power to radiate as he works on his little devices and mending broken objects for people. But you’ve never asked.
Asking questions is the first step to murder in these parts.
When his customer leaves, Namjoon turns to you and blinks his brown eyes at you owlishly, magnetized by his prescription lenses. He’s handsome - a little too handsome by Market Town standards - and he smiles at you, a dimple popping up in his cheek.
“I finally fixed this device for you,” Namjoon says by way of greeting. He digs around in his overall pockets and produces a tiny, silver device that looks like a bullet. “The little battery inside was fried. I put in a new one and replaced the copper plating on the starter. Your wires were totally corroded and-”
“How much?” you ask, a little exasperated. Namjoon will go on forever if you let him, and you need to get to Montana. “I only asked for the battery to be looked at, Joon.”
“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Kind of dangerous, though, no?”
“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”
His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table and he passes you the device. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?”
You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.”
“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.”
Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you pocket the little bullet and toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly.
He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him and ask him for. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them. But Namjoon operates like someone who has no idea that he’s tucked away in the most dangerous market in the Crown Cities.
Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives out too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. Lets his clients become friends. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more - but Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction.
“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in garnet and obsidian.”
“That sounds lovely, Len.”
You predict the next words. Have heard him say it dozens of times. “Obsidian.”
Len surprises you. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck.
You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart.
This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.
Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not on the first glance, but when you blink and focus, it feels like you’re seeing him for the first time. You have no idea how upon first glance you thought he could ever blend in.
He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again.
Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency about him that makes sense - he doesn’t fit anywhere on the caste that makes sense to you, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.
Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz. When they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to scratch. There is always an attraction for a Radiant to use jewels, even if they don’t belong to them. This feeling isn’t that, it’s more invasive and sharp, not like anything you’ve felt from diamond caste to onyx caste.
When he gets a few yards away, the feeling begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again, realizing he’s tossing a tangerine up and down.
A tangerine that he stole.
“Hey!” you bark at him, making several people turn in your direction, including Namjoon and Margot. The man doesn’t pause, tossing his tangerine in the air again. “Hey motherfucker! You have to pay for that tangerine!”
That catches his attention. He turns and looks at you over his shoulder, eyes round and mouth parted in surprise. A few people turn to look at where you’re shouting, but you mostly go ignored. Thieves are common here and most people don’t bother to yell at them anymore.
The man pauses for a moment. His gaze darts between you, Margot who is coming around his cart behind you with a knife, and the ripe little tangerine in his hand. He looks at you again, dark eyes glittering. For a second, the two of you are connected, strung together by an unlikely moment between strangers. Then he does the damndest thing: he grins.
And then he’s running down the street, floral shirt snapping in the wind as he dashes headfirst into the crowd.
Like the idiot you are, you take off after him. Suddenly, you are the number one security measure of Margot’s fruit stand, a man who has never given you a fucking discount in your life. You have no idea why you’re running after this tangerine thief, but you feel energy surge through you as you do, dodging people and bodies and things as you tear after him.
The tangerine thief is quick on his feet but you’re fast too, the emerald jewel hidden in your boot sending energy through you. You only radiate a little - not enough to draw too much attention, but enough to not lose sight of his red shirt flapping as he takes a corner and leaps over a stall.
He’s a Radiant, you realize. You suspected when you felt him walk behind you, but the ease at which he vaults a market stall much taller than him gives it away. He isn’t worried about hiding his status from you, which can mean a couple of things.
You don’t consider any of them, going around the stall instead of over. The emerald in your shoe is more than enough to send you several meters in the air, but you like to play your cards close. Don’t like to flash power unless you absolutely have to.
In a market full of Nulls, you prefer to blend in. Unjeweled is safer, especially in Market Town full of thieves and cut throats for naive or unsuspecting Radiants.
Just as you catch sight of your thief again, there’s a loud snap in the market. You look up, seeing a two story stall made from dry-rotted driftwood splinter. There’s a single second where you’re watching the top of the stall holding fresh rain water and it’s crashing down onto the market floor.
Screams ring out as alarmed market goers are startled by the sudden deluge. You just barely throw up a shield of concentrated energy. Water splits once it hits you, a river breaking around a boulder. Chaos ensues, the stall owner screaming her head off and wailing about the precious rainwater she collected to bless with her divine spiritual energy and sell, while shoppers and other stall owners alike are furious about their now soaking persons and wares.
Dropping your shield, you shoulder through the crowd. Now the smell of garbage is wet and pungent, clinging to bodies as you shove through the mess, looking for any sign of the pretty boy and his stolen tangerine.
It’s a mass of colors and people, lanes between stalls and the crowd opening and closing. The movement of Market Town flexes like a living thing, shifting and writhing, a hungry serpent sliding through the streets.
“Fuck,” you growl. It was a well placed distraction and perfect aim, using his power to snap the beam of the stand.
With a sigh, you look down at your watch and curse. You’re going to be late to work. Again. All because you chased down a thief for a fruit salesman that doesn’t even like you.
But that tingle. That sense of awareness that pricked the back of your neck, sharp and lethal. You think about it as you speed walk to the outskirts of Market Town where the edge of the Night Sphinx territory borders the loosely carved strip of streets that belong to the Green Dragons.
The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is the only place in Diade where two families of the Armory share such close property. Though the Salib and Park families are friendly enough, it still doesn’t do well to mix too much among Armory families outside of official business.
As soon as you hit the corner, you keep your eye on the other side of the street. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Night Sphinx organization. A few patrons loiter on the street, but it’s mostly members with sphinx tattoos, brooches or emblems stitched to their clothing to state their association.
The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of Civ just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset.
Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization.
A group of Green Dragons pour out of the door of Montana and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in Montana, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in by one of the liquor shipments from Blows.
Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.
Montana is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Green Dragons, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Green Dragons operations, but he fixed it up a bit.
As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.
So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much.
If Jungkook is irritated by your tardiness, he doesn’t say anything. You’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect he’s down the block wasted in the Green Garter. Instead of asking, you immediately get to helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour.
Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray like you.
Even without jewels, Jungkook is tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. You know he has your back. Despite the fact that his eyes sometimes drift to where your emerald is hidden. It’s the only evidence that you have that he’s frequency sensitive, like you.
Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors. Maybe jade or rose, it’s hard to place him because he wears no jewels.
The sound of some sporting event on the holoscreen buzzes behind you. The murmur of voices is soothing as you work, scrubbing a stain on the bartop you don’t remember being there yesterday. A quick sweep tells you that it’s the usual crowd this evening: Daro who is a smoky jewel sitting at a booth with Rollins and Gia, both emeralds; twins Rin and Maki sitting at the bar with their sharp, matching gazes vibrating at amethyst, and Bolero who doesn’t run with the Green Dragons but has become a regular, the only Null in the building.
Bolero signals for another drink, grey eyes following you. He’s dancer-thin and his face is sharp like a hawk, grey eyes even sharper. He’s always in a long, red trench coat no matter how boiling hot it is. You think you’re going to see him keel over and have a heatstroke one day, but he never does. Just strolls in, pushing his long, dark hair out of his face before sitting down wordlessly at the bar.
You pour him a whiskey neat and slide it over to him. He hums a thank you and turns his attention back to the screen flickering behind you. Bolero never talks, but you don’t mind him. The Radiants ignore him, though they hadn’t at first. You still see Rollins sporting a ropey scar on his hand from learning how much bullying Bolero would take.
Apparently, it was very little.
Most places would have had the Null killed and dragged out for the city sanitation to collect in their once-a-week pickups. To Radiants, anyone who doesn’t have power, who can’t radiate on the same frequency as a jewel, is beneath them. Powerless. Ant, meet boot.
Radiants, you’ve learned, are certainly powerful but not quite intelligent.
“Where’s the asshole?” you ask Jungkook as you close the dishwasher with your hip. Three hours in and no Burro in sight. Not that you’re complaining, but as the manager, he’s usually expected to be around in the event that someone important drops by for business.
Jungkook shrugs, dubious. “How should I know?”
“He can’t keep leaving you alone.”
“I’m not a kid.” You give him a look and his cheeks go pink. “I’m twenty-two, you know?”
“A child. A mere infant. Baby.”
“Ugh.”
“Anway,” you clarify, throwing a rag over your shoulder. “It’s not right. If someone comes in here for Green Dragons shit and Burro isn’t around, you’re gonna be fucked.”
“I can service them just fine.”
“Yeah? Where’s the stash?”
Jungkook smirks and leans against the bar. He’s dressed in dirty pants and a t-shirt he’s patched holes on several times already. His arms flex as he crosses them, cocking his head to the side. His hair is so much longer than it used to be - now it’s wavy and falling into his eyes, sticking to the sweaty skin of his forehead. You want to offer him a haircut, but you don’t want to baby him further.
“It’s in the grate underneath the desk in Burro’s office.”
“Great, and then they’ll flay you alive for not answering in their weird little code phrase.” Jungkook’s smirk falls off his face and you shake your head. “Exactly. Just because you know things doesn’t mean you know all of them, Jungkook.”
“Whatever.”
Jungkook pushes off of the counter and distracts himself by sullenly adjusting the bottles on the bar. You snort and turn back to trying to pry the sparking plug of the freezer out from the outlet to move power sources. Eventually, you feel Jungkook’s presence at your side, making you crane your neck up to look at him.
“So what is the code phrase?” he asks, pout prominent. You roll your eyes and straighten just as the door opens to the bar.
The door swings open with such force that it smacks the wall behind it, doorknob cracking. It draws the attention of the bar, everyone turning in their seats to see the man standing at the entrance. He’s mid-size with wild, blue hair and there’s a messy tattoo of a black cat on his arm. Your eyes narrow and the bar stills at the violent entrance of a Night Sphinx member in front of you, panting and staring directly at Bolero, the only person not looking at the door.
“Can I help you?” you ask, looking back and forth between them.
The Night Sphinx is angry and his energy snaps around him, a crackle in the air. You don’t have to sense the emeralds on him to know where he’s at on the Jewel Caste. He has a single ring on his finger and two modest earrings, not polished jewels but still emeralds all the same.
For a second, the man doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Bolero in a red rage, face purpling with the way he’s panting, fists clenched at his sides. You think he might just pass out, but then he’s pointing a finger at the Null sitting at your bar, sipping whiskey.
“You motherfucker!” His voice is garbled and slurred with liquor. “You fucked my wife!”
“Oh for jewels sake,” Maki grunts, turning away and sharing a roll of her eyes with her twin. “Take him outside and kick his ass then. He’s a Null.”
If being sold out by Maki bothers Bolero, he doesn’t show it. He simply sits there in his heavy trench coat, eyes fixed on the game on the holoscreen. This seems to enrage the man at the door even further. He ignores Maki’s advice and storms into the bar, gathering energy as he goes. The chairs and tables he walks by rattle and slide away from him, the pulse of energy flowing through him as he radiates disturbing them.
No one in the bar moves. Jungkook is transfixed and confused, eyes wide. The Green Dragons in the bar watch with mild interest. Bolero isn’t one of them, and the bar isn’t important enough to pick a fight with one of Salib's men over a Null.
But you’re not looking forward to the cleanup, and you don’t want to explain to Jimin how you did nothing while some Night Sphinx came in and fucked up a patron.
As your hand slides to the small, bullet-shaped device Namjoon fixed for you, Bolero moves. It’s almost too fast to follow the fluid way he stands and spins from the chair. His foot slips under the stool, using the toe of his boot to hook it behind the stool’s leg and he kicks.
The stool flies at the Radiant. He’s a little drunk and slow, but he’s still a Radiant and he reacts with enough clarity to pulse with the jewels on his hand and earrings once, sending a shield of energy around him. The stool shatters against the invisible wall, leaving the intruder unharmed.
Bolero is still fast for a Null though, already flipping a round table over to duck behind it as the Night Sphinx sends a green bolt of energy right at Bolero. It hits the table and singes it, cracking it in half. It’s loud as thunder, your yell going ignored as the two of them wreck the left side of the bar.
This is the ignorance of the Radiants. They don’t care about how destructive they are, storming into places and letting others take damage as they make demands and use force when they want.
Grabbing the scatterwave in your pocket. Bolero is dodging and waving blasts of energy from the man who chases him around the bar, blowing tables and chairs to bits. The other members of the Green Dragons have moved out of the warpath, collected near a booth on the far end of the bar, watching and jeering as Bolero doges a slice of concentrated energy that would have taken his head off.
“Fuckers,” you mutter.
Palming the device you press the top of the scatterwave. The device is small but it lets out a high-pitched sound when activated, sharp enough to disrupt frequencies within a small radius. Its target is the darker colors on the caste, its high frequency enough of a distraction and disruption for Radiants that it makes it harder to radiate.
The reaction is instantaneous. You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. It’s an earth-shattering noise, your ears vibrating with the force of the whistle. Your vision is blurry but you stumble toward where the two men are fighting, the Radiant bent over with his hands on his ears screaming from the force of the shatterwave.
Bolero is unaffected. He has no frequency to scatter and he takes the shot, leaping at the struggling Radiant with a snarl on his face.
“Not in here!” you screech. “He’s a Salib, you cannot kill him in Park territory. Go somewhere else! Bolero, please!”
Bolero looks at you once, grey eyes full of fire. He has the intruder by the shirt collar, fisted tight as the man continues to thrash against the sound of your device. You think for a split second that Bolero is going to drag him out of the bar and do what you ask. He turns to look at the door, considering it.
He decides not to. A knife appears in his hand and you yell as he stabs downward. You can’t hear the fleshy sound as Bolero sinks the blade in over the wailing of the device in your hand. He hits right between the ribs and up, a solid jab directly to the heart. The Radiant jerks in Bolero’s arms, his death twitch violent as he fists Bolero’s shirt, eyes wide, face aghast. Then he goes limp, sagging as a ragged breath leaves him.
No one moves. Bolero holds the dead man in his arms, panting and looking down at him. They are so close, Bolero’s face right over the man’s and if you didn’t know any better, you might think they were lovers. Bolero slowly crouches down, suddenly gentle as he lays the dead body on the ground, hands hovering over him.
You press the top of the shatterwave and it goes silent as it can with the high-pitched ring in your ears as you try to recover. You’re a little unsteady on your feet, pressing your hand against the bartop to keep your balance. A sharp pain behind your eyes signals an oncoming headache.
“What the fuck?” your voice sounds foreign and strained in the ringing quiet. “Are you fucking serious?”
Bolero rises, pulling the bloody knife with him. He wipes it on his pants and flips it in his fingers artfully. Familiar with blades, you note. He half turns to you and glances around the destroyed section of Monatna before he looks back at you and shrugs.
“Maybe you didn’t notice, but he was trying to kill me.”
“I don’t give a fuck. You kill people outside of this bar. You aren’t permitted to kill here.”
“Montana doesn’t protect its patrons?”
“Montana protects Green Dragons,” you clarify with a hiss.
You feel your fingers twitch. The familiar urge to radiate rises. It’s a natural instinct, to want to reach for the power that is right there on the edge of your mind all the time. You feel the emerald in your shoe. You imagine it beckons you, wiggling its fingers, begging to be used.
You ignore it, pointing a finger at Bolero. “You fucked up and you know it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a dead Night Sphynix?”
“Tell the Salib’s he attacked first.”
“You’re a Null asshole, it doesn’t matter that he attacked you first. You’re not fucking one of us.”
Something passes over Bolero’s face when you say it. Offense, you think. It’s there and gone so fast that you think you imagine it. You only feel a little guilty that he thinks you mean not a Radiant. You really mean not one of the Green Dragons but it doesn’t matter, in the end.
He pulls his phone out. “My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs.”
“Unless your boss is Jimin fucking Park, that doesn’t really matter.”
Bolero holds the phone up to his ear. You watch as he smirks a bit, shrugging. “Nah, but don’t worry about it.”
“Oh I’m fucking worried about it,” you snarl. Jungkook is watching wordlessly, mouth parted slightly. “Call Jimin,” you bark at him, making him flinch. You immediately soften your voice. “Sorry, just - call Jimin.”
With a bow of his head, Jungkook grabs the phone and dials.
Jungkook starts murmuring quietly when Jimin - or an assistant, more like - answers the phone while you let yourself into the back and lock the backdoor for security before returning to the front. Bolero is sitting at the bar waiting, the dead Night Sphinx behind him. Red is beginning to pool around him, almost black against the dirty floor of the bar.
Heading to the door, you throw Gia a look. “Watch the bar,” you grunt. “Unlike you did when that fuck stick walked in here and ripped the place apart.”
She looks down her nose at you, eyes narrowed. Gia is terrifyingly beautiful, standing nearly a foot taller than you and built with wiry muscle. Her silky, black hair is braided out of her face, elegant and carved like one of the glass angels sold in the art district. Her eyes are the same color as her jewels, a stunning emerald that flashes in annoyance at your command.
Gia nods once instead of arguing. The other Green Dragons behind her have the decency to look ashamed. While they aren’t heavies dedicated to protecting the Park family assets, they are low-level lackeys who could have prevented half the bar from being blown to bits by a Radiant. Especially the two amethyst caste twins who look at the wall blankly realizing what's going to happen now.
Instead of stopping the Night Sphinx, they all stood there with drunk stares and half-tilted grins. Jimin won’t like it and they know it. It doesn’t matter that Montana isn’t an integral operation to the Green Dragons. It’s about pride and respect. The fact that a drunk, emerald caste man under the flag of the Salib family stumbled into Jimin’s bar, destroyed the place and then was killed by a Null is going to set Jimin off.
So you find a target to direct his anger at.
Burro is slouched down on a leather couch at the Green Garter, exactly where you expect him. He doesn’t see you coming, the scattered green and white lights from the stage refracting and splitting into dozens of beams shining in his eyes as he stares at the topless woman on stage. There’s hardly anyone in the club and only a few people look startled when you grab him by the collar and yank him from the booth.
Security at the door and near the strange straighten up. The girl on stage keeps moving, lithe movements carrying her away from where you lift Burro up, fingers digging into his shirt enough to rip. He smells like grain alcohol and sweat, the stubble on his face indicating that he may have slept in the club.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Come on,” you snarl at him, shooting daggers as one of the security guards steps in your direction. You let yourself radiate just a little, enough to give out a steady hum that even the lightest on the Jewel Caste can feel the sensation of an emerald jewel. He backs off immediately despite the fact that you can see and sense the amethyst pieces drilled into his pale knuckles.
But there are two things that stop him: emerald is close enough to amethyst that a good Radiant can fuck up someone who is only a little darker than them on the Caste, and you’re a Radiant under the protection of the Park family, specifically Jimin, who owns the club.
As much as it annoys the man whose job is to protect the dancers and the patrons, if you want to beat the shit out of Burro on the shitty green carpet in front of everyone, he has to allow it. You’re one of Jimin’s favorite little Radiants and everyone knows it, especially on this strip of road.
No one stops you as you drag Burro out of the bar. His feet slide on the stained carpet, trying to find purchase as he yanks at your hand, shouting obscenities at you with his reeking breath. Your grip is iron, and you throw him as hard as you can once you’re back onto the sidewalk. He hits the ground hard, shoulder cracking against the street.
Burro yells and rolls over, curling into himself. You fight the urge to kick him a few times, your wrath waiting like a coiled snake to strike out and punish him for being such a burden to deal with. You leave him in a fetal position, storming back into the bar to throw a couple of nill on the table for the drinks and a heavy sum more on the stage for the girl’s trouble. She winks at you, pretty enough to make you flush and spin on your heel to get back outside where Burro is still laying on the ground.
Most of the time, you don’t bother. Burro is technically your manager and your superior. He’s an asshole and a waste of the Green Dragon's salary, which is why Jimin stuck him behind the bar, a punishment as much as a favor to Burro’s father who is a mid-ranking heavy in the Park family’s retinue. It’s as good as his son is willing to get for an emerald caste who is lazy and spends most of his days gambling, ogling at naked bodies, or wasted in a booth with Rollins.
Even so, most days you let him yell at you. Throw curses your way. Drone about how shitty of a bartender you are - which is true - like a gnat that won’t leave. He’s harmless on good days, annoying on bad days, and he’s too afraid to retaliate in rare moments like this when you shove him into his ill-fitting role.
“Get up,” you spit at him. You have the urge to crush his fingers that are spread out on the sidewalk. You think the loud crunch beneath your boot might be satisfying. You don’t, though. “Bolero just killed a Night Sphinx in the bar.”
“Swhwat?”
You growl as he slurs, slowly pushing himself to his feet. You think he might have been handsome once. He has the making for it, but his days knocking back grain alcohol have weathered him. You see the early signs of Alloy addiction all over his face, scabs picked raw, leaving behind dark scarring, the track marks in his arms when he wears short sleeves.
Raucous noise reaches you from a group of Night Sphinxes watching your exchange. Their laughter and whistles echo across the street, backed by the loud hum of shitty neon and the now very bright and flickering holographic display ads spinning in windows. This is a nice show for them, you’re sure. Everyone on this edge of Market Town has seen Burro get his shit kicked, though usually not by you.
“Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You start marching back to Montana. “You’re needed at the bar. You know, the place you manage.”
He mutters something behind you as he manages to get to his feet, tilted and tripping. You don’t catch what he says, eyes fixed on the sleek car that sits parked right in front of the door at Montana.
The road here isn’t really built for cars. It’s full of cracked faultlines and potholes, but Jimin has opted for a sharp-looking SUV with green LEDs running down the side and a little metal dragon on the grill. Not his personal car, but a business class that is no doubt reinforced with bulletproof windows and shatterwave tech.
There are four men standing around the car, dressed in pressed suits, each with a dragon brooch pinned to the front. They nod when you walk by and you keep your eyes low, feeling the different colors as you pass by: amethyst, sapphire, emerald. They have jewels drilled into their knuckles and some of their teeth, earrings of polished stone, and necklaces set with their respective caste colors.
Walking around with that much power is safe enough for them, but it makes your skin itch. Thinking of all that energy just waiting to be tapped into, waiting for them to radiate. The urge to reach for the power just a few feet away lessens as you walk inside of Montana.
Inside is a vision. Jimin’s loyal group of Green Dragons sit together in a booth, silent and heads down. Maki glances up for a split second as you come through the door, anger twitching on her face before she looks back down at the table in resolute silence, her curtain of black hair hiding her scowl.
Good. She could have used her fucking amethyst to wipe the now dead man from the map and not suffered a consequence under Jimin’s protection. And yet there you are, walking slowly toward the scene of the crime.
Jungkook is standing behind the bar chewing on his lip, hands linked behind his back as he watches the two men in front of him conversing. Bolero smokes a cigarette on the same stool he was on earlier, eyes fixated on the holo once again. The dead man is still very dead, Jimin’s men spread out around the bar to assess the damage.
Jimin is one of the two men speaking at the bar in front of Jungkook. Jimin’s dressed sharply in black dress pants and a matching black, tailored jacket with emerald buttons and a beautiful dragon broach set with emeralds and jade. His arms are crossed as he listens passively, dark hair slicked back. There’s a single dangling earring in one ear, a teardrop diamond at the end.
Jimin Park is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. He reminds you of a dangerous jungle cat. His eyes are sharp, shadowed by a full-fan of dark lashes, cheeks round and soft in contrast to his elegant jawline. He smiles at something the man he’s talking to says, full lips rosebud pink.
Your eyes drift to the man talking to Jimin and before you can think twice about interrupting them, you’re yelling, “You!”
Both of the men jerk their heads in your direction. Jimin’s brows shoot up and he shakes his head as if to ask what the fuck? But you’re too distracted by the other man, who grins at you as soon as he realizes who you are, adjusting his floral shirt as he turns to face you head on.
You get a better look at him now and you’re angry to discover that he is still just as stunning as he was in the middle of the Market Town stalls. His hair is pushed back out of his face more, eyes twinkling as they drag up and down your frame. He wiggles his fingers at you in a wave.
“You can’t just steal tangerines!” you bark at him suddenly.
“What?” Jimin asks. He frowns and looks between the two of you. “I’m sorry, do you know one another?” The man says ‘no’ at the exact same time you say ‘sort of’ which makes Jimin’s jaw tick, patience waning. “Well? Which is it?”
“Seen her once,” the man admits. “But I don’t know her. She chased me through the streets of Market Town today like a lunatic. I think she took one look at me and fell in love.”
Your jaw drops. “You stole fruit from Margot’s fruit stand motherfucker! It had nothing to do with your good looks.”
“So you admit I’m good-looking!”
A failed attempt at a response comes sputtering out of you. You stop and start your sentences multiple times, trying to come up with a wicked riposte to his ridiculous insinuation that you think he’s attractive. Which you do, especially when he gives you a full, shit-eating gummy grin.
“Enough,” Jimin snaps in your direction. “Wait with Jungkook, I’ll deal with you later. And don’t interrupt me again, got it?”
You bow deeply at the command. You feel hot all over, an unpleasant mix of shame and something else that you can’t place for “Yes sir. I apologize for my outburst.”
Jimin turns away from you and back to the tangerine thief, leaving you to rush behind the bar to stand next to Jungkook while you stare at the two of them.
You have no idea who this man is. You’ve never seen him in the bar with Bolero, though it’s possible he’s come in when you’re not working. It isn’t likely, since there’s only one additional bartender besides you and Jungkook, but you can’t possibly imagine how this man is important enough to look Jimin in the eye when he speaks.
Jungkook gives you a head tilt and doe eyes. You shake your head, opting instead to study the object of your irritation rather than explaining. He doesn’t ask any questions but you can see the way he shifts back and forth, unsure of where to focus his energy.
As one of the family members in the city’s Armory, Jimin is one of the highest-ranking citizens in Diade. Though the Green Dragons are on the bottom of the totem in the Armory, Jimin ranks higher than most of the city by being the son of his family’s leader.
The man speaking to Jimin looks at him directly in the eyes as an equal. He is a hairsbreadth taller, but his gaze and tone are steady and respectful. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority.
Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Manobals, the Salibs, the Achilleos’ and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet Jimin listens to him calmly, nodding his head at whatever the man is saying. Jimin’s arms are looped behind his back and he is poised as ever, even making a joke or two as they exchange words in hushed tones.
In Diade, the ruling family syndicates are the ultimate power. Jimin’s family owns the territory to the southeast, the Salib’s directly to the north, the Manobals to the west. You stick to Park territory only, always mindful of where each Armory boundary lies.
Despite Jimin’s favoritism, you’re not a high-ranking member of the Park family’s Green Dragons. Jimin thinks you’re useful enough though, and has a soft heart for strays. Jungkook is proof enough of that as you are, two little sources of information and loyalty in his personal pocket.
You work for Jimin, not his mother.
The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. The Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn a smile from Jimin Park, the prince of the Green Dragons.
Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Green Dragons well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in Montana with tight if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as a collective governing body, they are particularly fond of the Parks.
There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Dangerous for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, but the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain. Being protected by Yujun and his son Seokjin have its strengths.
Your vision blurs when you think of the Kim family. Seokjin’s beautiful smile, the way his inky eyes glitter. He remains the most eternal person you’ve ever laid eyes on, and one of the most charming. Funny, smooth talking, intelligent.
But Seokjin is a snake. A beautiful thing that can fool you into a false sense of security before striking and sinking his fangs in deep.
Nausea unfurls in your stomach at the thought of him. You blink a few times, willing away the memories of him and his high-pitched laughter and anything else to do with him. Jimin shakes the man’s hand in front of you. It draws your attention to where their hands meet. Jimin’s hand is small and delicate in the large hand of the tangerine thief. A man who was raised with privilege and a man you suspect made his own.
“I’ll be back,” Jimin calls. You realize he’s talking to you and you bow. He turns his attention to the group of his gang members sitting at the table, waiting for their punishment. He whistles at them, calling them like dogs. “With me.”
You can’t help but feel a little smug as they jump up, tangled over one another to get out of the booth as fast as possible to follow Jimin toward the front door. None of them look at you or Jungkook, chins tucked to their chest and eyes on the floor. At least they’re good dogs who know when they’re going to be punished.
“Hello again.”
The tangerine thief is leaning on the bar. Up close, he smells like sandalwood and a hint of sea salt. It isn’t unpleasant, but you grimace all the same. There are bracelets on his wrist, but no jewels. The prickling, needle-like sensation comes back, right at the back of your neck.
“Jungkook, can you start cleaning up?” You ask. He nods and dashes away, giving the stranger a single nervous glance as he joins the security members of Jimin’s team cleaning up.
They pick up the body and carry him through the bag on Jungkook’s guidance, dripping blood the entire way. Bolero doesn’t even glance as they pass him, still transfixed by the holoscreen.
“Why did you use a shatterwave?”
Your eyes drift back to the man in front of you. Up close, you notice that his skin is flawless. He has a shine and glow to him of a healthy Radiant, and yet you’re not sure how to place him on the caste. You know he’s a radiant from his escape methods in Market Town, but you’ve never had this much trouble placing someone on the caste. “What?”
“The shatterwave. Had to hurt you too, I imagine.”
“Well no one else was going to do anything,” you answer, skirting his assertion that you’re a Radiant. “It didn’t hurt that bad. I’m a Light Radiant.”
He raises his brows. “Oh, you’re a liar.”
“About some things, sure. I can’t take on an emerald caste, though. So I used a shatterwave.”
“There’s an emerald in your boot.”
You grit your teeth. He doesn’t make sense. The needling feeling only increases as he cocks his head, scanning you from head to toe. His pout turns into a smirk and there’s something heated in his gaze that makes you squirm as you shift back and forth on your feet, trying to place him.
Sensing jewel frequencies outside of the jewel you radiate most with is difficult. Energy is a fickle thing, and though you can feel the buzz of every color of jewel around you, most Radiants can’t. They can only sense what jewel they vibrate on the same frequency as, though trained Radiants can sense their assigned jewel and lighter.
This puts the tangerine thief at emerald or darker. If he can sense the emerald in your shoe, it means he can use it. Unless he is a rare case like you and Jungkook, who are frequency sensitive. But he doesn’t feel like emerald and he doesn’t feel like he sits darker at garnet and onyx.
You shiver remembering what onyx feels like, an oppressive and demanding thing.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I lied,” you offer. You can keep skirting the topic of the emerald in your shoe, but he already knows it's there.
He chuckles. It’s raspy and soft as a whisper. There’s no doubt he’s used to the effect he has on people. It reminds you a little of Seokjin and you feel skittish.
“No, I’m sure you are quite the liar.” He leans in a little bit. “I’m Agust, by the way.”
Schooling your features is hard. Out of all of the Circles that crossed your mind that he could belong to, you never considered Black Lotus. It makes sense, you suppose, that Bolero belongs to the Black Lotus. It’s one of the few Circles in the city that not only accept Nulls in their ranks, but encourage it. A little oasis for Radiants and Nulls alike to claw their way to the top from the bottom of the barrel.
My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs. You think of Bolero’s comment, realizing why he was so confident. His boss is the leader of the Black Lotus, a chaotic thorn in the Armory’s side who walks around the Crown Cities undermining authority where he can.
Agust smiles, pride bleeding through when you recognize his name. He’s a little notorious for the destruction of three Circles associated with the Kim family and for donating thousands of nil to squatters in Blows. A violent killer with a soft spot for charity. Strange, and not quite as heroic as some seem to think it is.
Instead of saying anything, you busy yourself with folding rags, feeling the way of his gaze. Agust is pretty with a soft edge to his face and a charming grin. There’s a confidence about him that draws the eye, and yet he can blend in just like he did at Margot’s fruit stand. He is both sides of the moon, light and dark, switching whenever it suits him.
Again, he reminds you of Seokjin and your heart squeezes as you take a step away from him.
“Well, I hope you have a great evening, Agust.” It's dismal. Polite, but an end to the conversation nevertheless.
He isn’t swayed. “What, no name?”
“Do you need it?”
“I’d like it. Is it as pretty as you are?”
“Your flattery isn’t welcome here.”
“Then what is?”
You glare. “The money for Margot’s tangerine.”
Agust chuckles again and shrugs. You expect him to walk away or volley back with a riposte but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the nil that Margot is owed and sets them on the counter, the silver coins clinking against the wood. He leans against the bar again, hand cupping his chin as he looks up at you.
“This cover me?”
You swipe the coins off the bar and sniff. “I suppose.”
“I like you. How about I call you Montana, hmm? Since you won’t give me a name, I’ll make one for you.”
Instead of looking at him directly, you busy yourself with moving around the syrup bottles in their plastic bin. “You don’t have to call me anything.”
“Or Garnet?”
For a second, you stare at your hands before slowly dragging your gaze to him where he watches you, feline-eyes glittering. That pinprick feeling returns sharper than ever. You’re a mouse caught under the watchful gaze of a hungry cat.
There are only a handful of people in the world that knows you sit on the second darkest color of the Jewel Caste. One of them is outside giving his gang members the lashing of a lifetime, one of them is sitting in a luxurious home in Aria and the other is no doubt watching cameras on the casino floor of Kaiju.
Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. You think about the first time you radiated at garnet, the power so raw and rich that you were almost drunk on it. You were just a kid, untrained in how to syphon energy that volatile. You’d become sick right after, taking too much too fast and completely unaware of how to channel all that energy.
The Kim’s had helped you find a way. And then used it to their advantage, a little girl with no one else to count on with all that power just waiting to be directed.
You refused to ever be used for your place on the Jewel Caste ever again.
“Say it again,” you murmur, voice low. Your hands open and close and you feel the emerald surge in your boot. Agust is either onyx or frequency sensitive, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve gone head to head with darker than you before. “I dare you.”
To your surprise, his smile is sad this time. There’s a moment you think you see understanding. Compassion. Something soft. Then it’s gone and he gives you a brief nod before pushing away from the bar, running a hand through his hair. You don’t move, muscles locked and primed to lash out, to grind him to dust if you have to. You don’t have a garnet, but you don’t need it. You can do just as much damage with an emerald, regardless of whatever color he is.
“Put the claws away, your secret is safe with me.” He nods to the pool of blood on the floor. “You have my apologies for the mess. Black Lotus will handle the fallout. Tell Bolero if any of those Night Sphinx fucks give you any trouble. You have my word I’ll pay my debt.”
“What debt?”
He jerks his thumb at Bolero. “You saved his worthless ass.” You don’t disagree but you say nothing. He lingers for a second, looking you up and down. Something passes his face that makes your heart speed up a little. “I mean it. Call if you need.”
“I won't.”
He grins. “Bye, Montana.”
When Agust turns to leave, Bolero gets up and goes with him. When the door shuts, it’s just you and the sound of Jungkook and Jimin’s men putting the bar back together.
No one can hear how loud your heart thunders.
Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Ask | Series Playlist | Series Masterlist | Tag Lists | Next Chapter
THE JEWEL CASTE (from least to most powerful)
Light Caste
Diamond
Citrine
Aquamarine
Jade
Rose
Mid Caste
Peridot
Topaz
Turquoise
Ruby
Smokey
Dark Caste
Emerald
Amethyst
Sapphire
Garnet
Onyx
THE CHAOTIC CASTE (in general, from least to most powerful)
Opal
Quartz
Tourmaline
Carnelian
Obsidian
GLOSSARY
Alloy - A drug that allows radiants to lift frequency for a temporary amount of time and meld with a jewel they cannot normally radiate with.
Caste Drop - When someone drops a color on the Jewel Caste and vibrates at a higher frequency
Circle - Lower gangs who are not in the Armory
Dark Radiant - Those who vibrate at the low-colors and high frequencies
Jewel Caste - The order of least to most powerful vibrational jewel frequencies
Light Radiant - Those who vibrate at the lighter colors and lower frequencies
Mid Radiant - Those who vibrate at the mid-colors and medium frequencies
Null - Those who don’t vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and cannot radiate
Radiant - Those who vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and thus can radiate
Shatterwave - A type of device that lets out high-frequency sounds to shatter Radiant frequencies in a certain radius
Unjeweled - A radiant who doesn’t have any jewels on them to help radiate
#yoongi smut#suga smut#suga fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga bts#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#bts fanfic#mafia yoongi#minors do not interact#minors dni
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The Wrong Way: Chapter 10 (Finale and true ending)
Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Tommy Miller x reader
Masterlist
Spotify playlist
Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?
Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction
WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!
UUUUHHH ya'll i put the warnings there so uh you can't blame me for what I've done.
Before anything i gotta say the "id do anything for you, you amost killed me, that was for you" bit is curtesy of me and @the-fox-den messing around so credits to them XD
I cannot appreciate y'all readership more. I cried writing this on and off not only bc the content but that it's over. full emotions at the end!
Enjoy! (this is not enjoyable.)
***************
“Hey honey.” Tommy’s voice was groggy and sweet in the late morning. “You up already?”
You shuffled your body back, closer to where Tommy lay, warm and inviting… you missed him. You missed him so much. “Yeah just thinking…”
Nestling his face into your face, Tommy holds you tighter, a protective hand over your belly. “What about?” When you didn’t answer, he knew what you were thinking of. “Ah… you miss him, don’t you?” There wasn’t judgment in his voice, just the soft understanding that Tommy always gave, a grace that showed he knew what Joel had done to your mind.
Nevertheless, you tear up, embarrassed at your own weakness for the man who had nearly killed you and your baby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… he had me so messed up and twisted… I didn’t know which way was up half the time… I felt like I was living in a haze…” You begin to cry, letting the frustrations out.
“Hey, hey now it’s alright. He’s good at that… he’s good at jumbl’n you up enough you can’t see straight… and he’s got that look… something in his eyes when his attention is focused on you… just makes you want to make him happy… I know what you mean… Did he hurt you a lot since I left?”
“No” You shake your head. “That was the strange part… It was… it was good… especially after he found out I was pregnant… It was… it was good, actually. I thought he changed… He didn’t… but I had a lot of freedom, I could do pretty much anything with Lorenzo watching me.” You chuckle a little bit, thinking of your friend. “At first I don’t think he was thrilled to be on babysitting duty, but when he realized he could drink and smoke all day I think he liked it a lot more.”
The smile in his voice was evident. “I’m glad you had a friend after I left, honey.” He brushed hair out of your face. “I saw… I saw Joel a few months back… he said you and Lorenzo had gotten close.”
“Yeah” But the tears came again.
“Hey, hey what’s wrong?”
“I never said good bye” You cry. “Lorenzo… everything happened so fast and I didn’t get to say goodbye and now I don’t know if he’s even gonna live.”
Tommy coaxed you to turn over and face him, his face beautiful in the rising orange sun kissing his skin and complimenting his dark hair. “Honey, listen, Maria is gonna make sure he’s taken care of. He’s gonna be okay and once he’s rested up, I’m sure he’ll come to Boston, or at least get word out if he’s got other plans.” Tommy didn’t actually know any such thing but he wanted to comfort you.
“He’s coming to Boston” You assure. “He promised me… and him and Zach are a couple, actually.”
His face was one of confusion, then realization. He chuckled. “Love really just… finds a way, huh?”
When you look into his eyes… you can’t help but agree. “Yeah, it does…” He face was so close to you, it’d been so long since he’d held you… even before he left, you two had grown distant, Joel successfully putting a edge between you two, and you hadn’t spend the time with him you used to, angry and upset with him for reasons that didn't make sense… but that was how badly Joel had messed up your sense of direction. And yet, none of that mattered when Tommy was in trouble. You’d put yourself between Joel’s gun and Tommy, and if you weren’t pregnant you’d do it again. Tommy was always there for you, as much as he could be… he was manipulated by Joel, just like you were, but still he tried… and here he was, sleeping on a cold hard floor with you because he uprooted his entire life with Maria… for you.
The kiss was sudden, you pressing your lips to his and for a sweet, lingering moment he kissed back, chest rising as he breathed through nose, savoring you before pulling back whispering your name.
“I love you…” You confess, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together.
“Honey, you don’t… you don’t have to feel or do anything just because I’m here-”
“I love you.” More assertive this time. He thinks you feel like you have to, like there's pressure… but you never felt that with Tommy. Tommy wasn’t Joel. Tommy was kind and patient, Tommy was loving and gentle and good… Tommy was the one you loved.
Tommy reached out, caressing your hair. “I love you too, honey, I’m sorry I had to leave you” the words just began spilling out from him, tumbling out Tommy’s mouth like a desperate plea for absolution for sins he never willingly committed. “I’m sorry I never stopped him, I’m sorry I didn’t do more, I’m sorry I left you alone in all that-”
You cut him off with another kiss, needier and lonely, clamoring for a connection. “It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay. I’m okay now, everything will be okay.” And it would be. You were with Tommy now, and Tommy would keep you safe. You hands wander, trailing down his back as you continued to kiss him, feeling him, getting to know the curves and dips and muscles of him for the first time. Your hands move to undo his pants, but he stops you.
“We don’t- honey you’ve had a traumatic week”
“Tommy, I want you…” You whine, and you did. You did, so fucking bad. You missed Joel, you missed Tommy, your head was swirling with guilt and fear and a deep, deep down ache of loneliness that you didn’t know how to fill other than skin on skin. It was all you really knew. Nearly everyone you had cared about, save for Zach, and Lorenzo showed their love with touch. Even June did, although it wasn’t sexual. Tommy always held you when you cried, sat up in his lap with arms wrapped around you as he did now. “I want you Tommy, please?” You whine. You couldn’t deny that the pregnancy hormones worsened things, making you incredibly needy. “I need you, Tommy”
Tommy sighed. He knows he shouldn’t. The week you’ve had, the year you've had, hell, the entire life you had groomed you into submitting your body to men for money, shelter, affection. This is what you knew. Then there was Maria, his girlfriend who he lived with, with whom he swore fidelity too, who had seen this poor, young traumatized her and willingly let him go because she trusted him… That was the other thing, you were still so young… Tommy had made the comment to Joel that if Sarah had lived, he she would be older than this girl in his arms was now… That should’ve made Joel disgusted… shouldn’t it disgust Tommy too? But Tommy was weak, he knew he was weak… and he loved her, didn’t he? This wasn’t a lust filled rape, this wasn’t him taking advantage of her youth and naivety, they were in love, and she needed him.
“Yeah baby, I’ll take care of you.” Tommy allowed you to undo his pants while he quickly undid your flannel. In the daylight and as he pulled it and the dress over your shoulders, he could see the full extent of your injuries. Where your collar hid, there was a mixture of purple and green bruising around your neck and throat, accentuated by red from the rope burn, and yet the hardest to stomach was your chest. A large black bruise formed on your chest from the repeated punching. “Oh honey… you’re lucky he didn’t break a rib.”
“I don’t wanna talk about him.” You grumble, beginning to shimmy him out of his pants. “Just want you, Tommy. I want you the right way, like we never got the chance to, the way Joel took from us.”
“The right way” He kissed you, lips full of love, offering protection and solace in the distortion. He wastes no time pulling your underwear down and slipping a hand to cup your sex, immediately giving you the pleasure he swore he could your first time together, but you had refused. He felt so good, firm and assured in his movements between your legs, but soft and caring, making you feel special in his touch.
You spit in your hand and begin to jerk his cock as you both laid there, your giant belly getting in the way. “Usually wetter, the last month things have been… different” A bit embarrassed, you mutter into his shoulder. You were turned on, very much so, but your lower body didn’t seem to get the message. Joel never seemed to care much. You got wet eventually, especially after cumming, but the in between usually hurt.
“That’s normal.” Tommy assured. “Pregnancy hormones. But I’ll make sure you’re real wet, baby, get on your back.” Doing as you were told, you roll over, Tommy slithering his way down you and pressing affectionate kisses over your swollen stomach. “So beautiful…”
He ate you like a man starved, like a past meal on death row, desperate and savoring every last taste. Joel always felt good, so, so, good, but there was an electricity here, all the built up tension between you two, like a rubber band finally snapping and he couldn’t get enough. Tommy worshiped at the shrine of you, adoration in the prayer on his lips, his arms wrapped around your legs as you grew closer so you couldn’t wiggle away, he needed every second, every inch, every taste, every sound reclaimed for him. It was a conquest, a crusade, a burning need as he licked into your folds, pleasure and fire and love building in your core, fingers opening up to prepare you to take him, fucking into you and god, you were moaning for him.
“Tommy! Tommy please make me cum, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll do anything you want, just-”
“Lay there and take it, princess, that’s all you gotta do.” His head dived back between your legs and eagerly devoured, lips latching on your swollen mound, sucking noisily, soaking your as promised. Two fingers turned into three, and while his lips sucked his tongue flicked at your clit, causing your legs to shake. You entangle your fingers in his long, dark locks, having grown longer since you’ve seen him last and yank him towards you. You didn’t need to guide him, you didn’t need his tongue deeper inside you; he knew what he was doing. What you needed was something to grip onto as your world shattered around you. Tommy was always who you reached for. Everything you needed, Tommy did his best to provide, and when you were terrified, as Joel dragged you away to kill you, all you wanted was your Tommy. You screamed his name as you did now. Gushing cum on his face, you yank at his hair and fuck his face while you ride out your orgasm on his still moving mouth.
Vaguely, you register him kissing his way up your body, laying around you as he couldn’t lay on top, Tommy kissed you back to life, finding his soft eyes staring at you as you open your own…
“You still want me?” He asks, a rough but caring hand stroking your face.
“More than anything.”
He was careful, he always was with you, treating you like a fragile porcelain doll, but you promised him you could take it and he sped up, fucking you, really fucking you the way you had wanted for months after you grew comfortable in that house. He knelt before you knees on the hard floor but showed no signs of pain as his hips snapped into you, your moans growing louder.
“Tommy!” You call out for him, ecstasy building inside you like the sweat on his forehead.
“Right here honey, I’m right here.” He rubbed your knee that he had braced himself on. “Neve gonna leave you again, I promise.”
“You- you promise?” Looking up at him from this angle… he looked god-like. Tan and strong, but handsome and kind… you wanted him forever, you wanted only him and for him to have only you. He filled you up over and over and over, your hips canting up to meet him.
“Promise, princess. I’ll never leave you, ever. You’re mine.”
His.
“I’m yours” You whine for him, on the precipice of your climax, you just needed…
“And I’m yours. Now, I need you to come, and when you do, I want you to scream my name, okay? Can you do that for me, beautiful girl?” His hand was on your hip, large and rough and covering Joel’s initially branded on you.
You’re panting heavily, so, so close when he sets a brutal pace, spilling you over.
Tommy thinks this is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. All the times you called for him when you needed him, when Joel was done, when you were hungry or needed to use the bathroom or just were lonely, none of it compared to this…
You scream for him, crying out loudly as he continues to thrust into you, talking you through it like he had the panic attack that had overtaken you when you gave him your virginity.
“Just like that, honey, good girl.” He coo’s, ever letting up on your sensitive cunt. “So pretty coming on my cock, love when you scream my name… there you go, pretty little thing…”
Tommy was right. He made you scream his name louder than Joel’s.
When he came inside you, claiming you as his in a primal, animalistic sense, the cold began to settle on the sheen of sweat between you, and Tommy pulled a blanket over you. A little rest before heading out.
“Did you mean what you said?” You ask.
He didn't need clarification. Tommy knew you well enough. “Yeah, I did. I’m gonna stay with you, honey.”
“What about Maria?”
A fair question, but Tommy sighed nonetheless. “I’ll send word I won't’ be come’n back… I think… I think she knew, she knew before I ever did.”
When the two of you set out on the road again, you wanted to walk for a while. All the riding the last day made you sore and you just walked to stretch your legs, aching joints and pregnant body needing movement. You and Tommy talked, really talked about the future, what it would look like in Boston, wherever it is exactly Lorenzo and Zach had for you… Someone Tess knew? A couple who had been a ‘doomsday prepper’ before… You wouldn’t live on their farm, but in a house nearby. Somewhere fairly safe for you and your baby, and Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy to protect it… Tommy confirmed what you had secretly hoped but could never ask. He’d be your baby's father, he’d raise them with you, loving it as his own.
“Well ain’t that sweet.” You freeze in place when you hear Joel’s voice, the older brother stepping into sight from a tree, gun pointed at you and Tommy. “Fucked my wife, stealing my daughter,” he looks at Tommy. “I can’t believe you’d sink this low, Tommy.”
The irony of who was sinking low was lost on Joel, Tommy was aware. There was no point fighting it. One hand held the reigns of the horse, his right was in the air as yours were. “Joel, c’mon, I know damn well you aren’t going to hurt either one of us so just let-” He was cut off by his own scream, falling against the horse and gripping his upper arm.
“TOMMY!” You scream for him, rushing to his side before Joel shouts to get away. You want to help Tommy… but you had a duty to your child, a duty you knew Tommy would understand. You cried, looking him over. He was still standing, clearly in pain, but blood shooting out of his arm. Nothing vital.
Joel only looked at you. “That’s right, scream his name, little one. Always his name, isn’t it?” Joel stepped forward, ignoring Tommy’s anguished plea’s for him to stay away from you; Joel’s sights were on you and you alone. Nothing else existed, not even his bleeding baby brother. “Sceam’n for him when you think I’m hurting you, when you think I’ve been cruel, when you want his company because I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH”
You barely registered your own tears, the trembling in your stance, knowing there was nothing you could do.
“That’s how I found you, heard you screaming my own fucking brothers name like a whore in that cabin while pregnant with my daughter!”
Shaking your head, you take a weak step back. “Joel, please, I was scared. I was so scared, you tried to kill me-”
“Is that what you think that was?” A cruel, mocking laugh escaped him in his mania before turning to Tommy. “Is that what she told you, Thomas? ‘Oh Tommy!’” His voice was light and girlish as he mimicked you. “‘Oh Tommy, Joel’s so mean to me!’ Well that ain’t the truth. She’s a cheating whore, and she needs to do better for Sarah, so I’m trying to teach her.”
Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the visible confusion on Tommy’s face turn into shock and horror. “Sarah? Jesus Joel! Is that what all this is? You’re trying to recreate Sarah? Or is it the picket fence two parent household you never got with her?”
“Don’t talk about her!” Joel screamed at the younger man, his attention turning to Tommy, and you watched for your chance.
“SARAH IS DEAD! SHE’S DEAD AND SHE’S NOT COMING BACK!” His next words… Tommy didn’t mean, not one single bit, he witnessed himself how much Joel tried to save his child, the little girl who was the entire world to him… But he needed Joel’s attention on him, he needed to be the focus of Joel’s anger. “SARAH IS DEAD AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”
You take a step back.
“SHUT UP!” Another scream from Joel.
“MY NIECE IS DEAD BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T LOVE HER ENOUGH TO TRY HARDER-”
“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!”
But Tommy already moved, Joel’s teary eyes and blinding anger slowing his perception and Tommy moved the barrel of the gun away from him and you before Joel took the shot.
“RUN!”
And you did. You didn’t know where to, but you ran for your life, for your babies. Hearing a gun go off again, you stop briefly wondering if you just heard either the man you loved or the father of your child die… but there was no time to mourn or think, you needed to go. 8 months pregnant, you do everything you can to keep running, but you are stopped by a blinding pain in your stomach, causing you to scream before you can even stop yourself.
When it fades, you open your eyes to see an infected.
There was no time for pain.
Contractions going again, you prayed for another round of braxton-hicks and not actual labor, you prayed Tommy was alive, you prayed the infected behind you couldn’t move fast due to one thing or another… but you couldn’t stop to look. The adrenalynn did most of the work, as did sheer willpower. You didn’t think you could power through running so fast and so long if it was just you, but the mother instinct to protect this baby went above everything. Like a blessing, you see the cabin you had stayed at and took off towards it, infected at your heels, horrific noises that you shall surely hear the rest of your life should you survive this letting you know there was no time to even wince at a particularly sharp contraction. They were not spaced… and if Lorenzo was right, and if this wasn’t braxton-hicks…. You were going to give birth in this cabin.
The slam of the door behind you did not save you, as soon you found yourself sitting in an empty room with a chair propped against the door as the infected tried to get in, your switchblade gripped in your hands, as the baby tried to come out.
You can’t help but scream in pain; the infected already knew where you were, it was only a matter of time until it came in and you had to be face to face with it for the first time. You’d seen them from afar of course, but you had never been close; someone always protected you, Zach, Lorenzo, Tommy, Joel… you’re whole life you had depended on men to save you from other men and a litany of evils in this world and none of them had been able to stop this. No one stepped in between you and your dad, no one stepped in between you and Joel, and no one would step between you and this abomination…
But you’d try your damndest to step between your baby and whatever might harm them, and if that meant facing this infected, you’d do it.
When it burst in, you don’t bother hiding our scream; they looked horrific and the sounds were just as bad, but god, the smell was nauseating to your pregnant senses. None of that compared to the genuine fear as you fought for your life and for this baby. The creature was right in your face as you stabbed him, the jackknife now successfully ending two threats to you; the infected and Nick.
The moment you have to breath is gone when you hear the cry of your baby on the floor. You had given birth to a baby girl, just as Joel wanted, alone, with a bite on your leg.
You were infected, and this baby would grow up without a mom and with a psychopath rapist and murder for a dad. Tommy was surely dead, and even if Joel found you in the cabin she’d grow up with Joel. You didn’t believe he’d sexually abuse her, but physically? She’d be lucky if she made it to 10, not the mention the other men around her…
There was no time to cry or to smile, you couldn’t rejoice in the birth of this little girl or cry at the circumstances, you thought back to what Maura instructed you, Joel, and Lorenzo to do in the event you gave birth without her. Using that knife, you cut the cord and tie it.
Had you given birth before the bite? Was she infect? Had all your efforts to protect this innocent been useless? You once again kick yourself for not leaving with Zach any of the times he offered…She’d suffer because of you, if she lived at all.
As your daughter screams, you scream too, loud and anguished and nameless. You didn’t cry for Tommy, for Zach, for Joel, for Lorenzo or June or anyone that had ever shown they wanted to help… no, you just screamed, because there was no other option.
Tommy had seen you run and tried to follow you, tried to call to you, but you either couldn’t hear him or could defier his voice from Joel who was currently crippled with a shot leg… Tommy couldn’t bring himself to kill Joel… he couldn’t. No matter how much of a big game he talked, Joel was still his big brother, and despite the telling signs of aging and the obvious way Joel was no longer Joel behind those eyes… They were still he eyes, and as Joel looked up at Tommy pointing the gun down on him, Tommy couldn’t fire. He couldn’t fire at the man who had saved his life countless times, the father of his niece, the father of the baby he had swore to raise as his own, and despite the way Joel had clearly lost his mind, lost all sense of reality… Tommy couldn’t kill his brother because yes, that was still his brother.
When he found you, it didn’t take long to figure out what happened, with the baby in your arms and the infected on the ground… your bite was clear and prominent.
“Oh honey… no…” Tommy dropped the gun on the floor and likewise dropped to his knees as he walked to you and the child. A little girl…
“Tommy, please, please take her. If you don’t want her, take her to Zach and Lorenzo, just please take her-”
“I’ll take her, I’ll raise her, I swear.” Maria and him had talked about kids before… would she want this? Tommy couldn’t stop looking you over, he couldn’t process that you had been bit… this wasn’t a rattlesnake bite, there wasn’t a way to get the venom out… it was over. “I’m sorry.” He cried, tears flowing over before he registered they were coming. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, I’m sorry-”
“Tommy” You stop him, tears matching his. “Tommy, it's okay. Just protect her, okay? That’s what matters now, her.” Everything hurt, and you could swear there was something already changing in you, but maybe it was in your head.
Heavy boots clomping on the floor. “Get away from her.” Joel spoke, his voice low and dark, despite being unarmed. You notice his limp and the blood… Tommy hadn’t shot Joel to kill… and had greatly underestimated what Joel would do to get to you, including walking on a shot leg.
Tommy didn’t even turn around, still holding you and his, yes his baby, because there was no way in hell Joel was walking out with her. “She’s infected, Joel.”
Joel didn’t reply, and you looked up at him over Tommy’s shoulder, confirming it. You nudge Tommy to move, revealing his daughter. You speak before Tommy does. “I cut the cord before I was bit.” Your eyes dart to Tommy. “Before.” You lied, and you knew it was dangerous… but you needed your daughter to have a fighting chance.
Joel shook his head. “No, no we’ll get you help, theres gotta be-”
Grabbing his gun, Tommy turned around. “THERE’S NO HELP, JOEL!” He shouts. “This is your fault! This is all your fault and you can’t fix it!” His steps were long and quick, pinning an unarmed Joel to the wall gun to his head. Tommy was shaking, but you didn’t need to aim to shoot point blank. “I’ll fucking kill you for what you did to them.”
For once, you believed it.
And it seems Joel did too. “That’s my daughter, Tommy. Yuh ain’t take’n her.” But Joel’s voice was weak, small…
“Yes he is, Joel.” You speak from the floor. “He’s taking her, and one of you needs to kill me.”
Both of Miller brother turn to you at that, anguish and pain in Tommy’s eyes. “I… I can’t do that… I can’t… Honey, no…” You knew how badly he was hurting right now… but you didn’t want Joel dead, and someone needed to do it. You didn’t know how long you had.
“I know, Tommy. I know.” You smile sympathetically at your lover, and beckon him towards you. Tommy gives Joel a warning look, but takes the pistol off his brother and comes to you. “I know. I know you can’t and that’s okay. You take he, that’s what you need to do for me, okay?” Looking down at the crying baby in your arms you give her a kiss and whisper that you love her before pushing her into Tommy’s welcoming arms. “I know you feel guilty…” Reaching up to touch his face one last time, you smile as he leans into your touch. “Sweet, sweet boy… you have nothing to be ashamed of, you’ve always done right by me. But if you feel you need absolution, this is your chance.”
Tommy looked at the little girl in his arms… she was so small, so fragile… but he would protect her, he would do right by her the way he couldn’t do to you. She was his baptism, his new life, a fresh start. He was a father now. “I will” He looked at you again.
“Her name is Ellie” Fimly, you spoke it into truth. “It’s not Dorthy, it’s not Dolly, its Ellie.” Looking up at Joel, the hurt clear on his face at the erasure of what he wanted to give her, you offer a small mercy, the middle name he agreed on, named after the singer he liked so much, and your friend back home. “Ellie June.”
Tommy nodded. “Ellie June, it’s beautiful.” He touched his forehead to you softly and you slipped your hand to touch Ellie’s little toes. This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee… “I’ll never forget you, and I’ll make sure she knows about you, okay? She’s gonna know who you are.”
“Zach… please, get word to Zach somehow, tell him he’s an uncle.”
“I will, I swear.”
“And Lorenzo, Lorenzo said he’d be the godfather. Please thank him for everything he’s done for me.” You sob thinking about your best friend.
“I will, I’ll tell him.”
“And Zach, please tell him I love him so much, and thank him for being my big brother.”
“They both love you, hermosa, I know they do.” He stroked your hair with his free hand.
“Tommy, one more thing?”
“Anything”
“June, please, can you find her? Tell her I loved her, she’s Ellie godmother in spirit.”
“Abslutly, is there anyone else? I’ll do it.”
You shake your head, tears flying as you do. “No, those three… they are all I know- wait, Maura and Jack, Jack risked everything to help me escape, and Maura with my pregnancy” You chuckle a bit. “Who knew dying had so many many loose ends to tie up” You hadn’t realized… you had grown a small community. It had taken a village to keep you and your baby alive.
He smiled. “I’ll tell them all, honey, I promise, especially Zach.” Tommy had an older brother too, and a;thought his had turn into a monster, he understood the love of a protective brother, and would not be who he is without Joel in their childhood and youth.
You whisper a thank you, before sealing his promises with a tearful kiss. When Tommy pulled away, you knew it was time…
“Goodbye Ellie, mommy loves you.”
Then, it was just you and Joel.
“I never wanted this, little one.” He spoke, voice filled with sincerity and pain. “I know you think I hate you, that I want you to hurt-”
“I don’t think that Joel.” You deny his accusation, but you are honest. For once, you can be honest. “I think you’re a broken man who doesn’t know how to love, but I don’t think you hate me, and I don’t know you never wanted any of this.”
“I loved you! Everything I did was for you!”
“You almost killed me-”
“THAT WAS FOR YOU!” He screamed at you, but it wasn’t rage or fury, it was wretched and broken and him. A heart broken father who had lost his daughter, and is now about to lose his wife, and if Tommy can help it, his brother and baby.
Closing your eyes, you move on. “You can’t have her, Joel.”
He steps closer, boots loud against the creaking floor. “Tommy ain’t taking my daughter, I ain’t losing her.”
A dry laugh. “I’m not sure you ever loved Ellie-”
“Her names not Ellie, it’s Dolly-”
“You loved Sarah, and Ellie was a replacement. What if we had a boy, Joel? C’mon. Let her be, let them go.” Couldn’t he give you this? A deathbed wish to save your baby…
“No.” But you could tell he was wavering. “That’s my daughter.”
“What’s your plan then? You don’t have day care. The only raiders you could have trusted with her are Tommy and Lorenzo and they are gone. You can’t do it alone… You’ve seen those men gang rape women, you think they won’t rape Ellie?”
“Stop calling her that.”
“You think they won’t beat her, touch her? Even if they don’t, is she suppossed to grow up around violence and rape? You gotta think this through, Joel! There’s no day care, no PTO, you’re two top men just left you, you can’t keep her safe! You can’t protect her, she’s gonna die like-”
“Fine!”
There's a long, shocked silence between the two of you, the gravity of what he’s agreed to give up… You weren’t sure if you believed in god, and if you did, whose god it was… you weren’t sure you believed in an afterlife, or anything of the sort. But if you did… you could be convinced that Sarah’s spirit touched Joel, breaking through his obsession, his mental illness, the delusions he had… to keep her little sister safe.
“I’ll… she can go with Tommy.” Heartbroken, Joel acquiesced, then knelt in front of your exhausted body. “I know you don’ think I loved you, but… just know I cared, okay? I just-”
“I believe you.” You took in his scent once more. “For what it’s worth, I think maybe we loved each other in our own sick way… It was always gonna end like this… ” You push the jackknife into his hands.
“Where did you get this?” Joel referenced the knife with wooden encasing.
“Nick’s skeleton.”
Joel couldn’t help but smile “Brave girl” He kissed you, and you allowed it, wanting to taste him just one more time.
Knife in grip, you taking rough hand and bring it to your throat, tucked under your chin just beneath where your wet faces pressed together, foreheads and noses and lips melding into one as he could consume your soul, bring you into him forever.
“I love you, little one. Always have.”
“And I loved you, Joel.”
“What’s that song you like?”
“Red River Valley”
“Yeah, that’s the one. How did that last line start?”
You smile, eyes closed, and start singing it. “Come and sit by my side if you love me…”
Joel joined in the pair of you singing together. “Do not hasten to bid me adieu, but remember the the red river valley” You’re voice choked up so bad on the last word, you couldn’t finish it.
You think back to the night Ellie was conceived, the night Tommy left, they way Joel fucked you, words uttering into life the possession he had over you. It was foolish to think you could be free of him in this life. That pain? The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed?
Joel sang the last line for you, voice as soft as a whisper.. “And the cowboy who loved you so true.”
His lips pressed a final kiss and you felt the sharp pain and oozing liquid leaving you, your gasps and cries of pain stifled by his mouth. Eventually, the warmth of the blood enveloped you into darkness, and the agony of this life you were subjected to since childhood ended.
If you bleed? Your blood is mine.
Joel inhaled your last breath into his, sucking in the evidence of your life with his lips attached to yours until his head grew dizzy from lack of oxygen. Your blood was cooling on his body.
Joel limped out of the room, covered in her blood, only to find Tommy rocking a baby in one arm and a gun aimed at Joel with the other, tears streaming down his face.
“You killed her.” Tommy stated the obvious.
Not even bothering to raise his hands, Joel replied. “The infected killed her, Tom-”
“No.” The low tone of voice warned of something serious, and Joel pondered if Tommy was capable of actually killing him. “You did this. All of this. This last year you beat and tortured and raped her and made her think this was love. Calling her your wife, Joel?” Tommy shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t think you were capable of this, even after everything.”
Joel glowered his eyes at Tommy, not happy to have this talk again. “I didn’t see you ever stop’n me, Tommy.”
“No.” Tommy’s answer was candid. “That’s my cross to bare. And she-” he needed down to the sleeping baby in his arms. “She’s my vindication, and I’m gonna do right by her.”
Joel held out his hands, causing Tommy to step back. “Give me my daughter, Tommy.”
Worry crossed his face. “You promised-”
“I just wanna say goodbye” It was rare Joel spoke like this… so quiet, so soft… But Tommy didn’t trust him. “No, you-you’ll hurt her.”
The way Joel looked in Tommy’s eyes was earnest… so much hurt and sadness Tommy felt like he was actually looking at his brother again… “I’d never hurt my daughter.”
Tommy believed him. “Gun to your head the whole time. You try to take her away, I shoot you.”
“Okay.”
He was right, the gun was pressed to his head as Joel said his goodbye. “I love you. No matter what anyone tells you, I love you, and I loved your mom. She’s up in heaven watching out for you, she’s there with your big sister, your grandparents, everyone. They love you, just like I do, just like Tommy does. I’m gonna protect you still, okay? Jackson is under my protection, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you or your family.” Joel will protect his daughter with his life, and that means protecting those who care for her. Tommy, Maria, all of Jackson. As long as she's taken care of they are safe. “I love you, baby girl.”
Hesitantly, Joel handed Ellie back to Tommy, her new daddy, and he felt like he was letting go of a peace of himself. Nother brother bothered hiding the tears.
“I never want to see your face again, Joel. Do not come near me or my child ever again.”
Joel wanted to argue, to say it was his daughter, and he could take her whenever he wanted… But she was right. Ellie was better off with Tommy. Tommy could provide a stable home, with a mom and a dad, a community to make friends, school, church, and most importantly, safety. Tommy was younger, he could keep up with a child, fight off what he needed to… Tommy was a good uncle to Sarah… he’d be a good dad to her.
“Tommy, wait” But Tommy kept walking. “Wait!”
“SHHH!” Tommy whipped around, whispering harshly. “You’ll wake her!”
As if Joel didn’t raise a whole child himself. “Just… here.” Joel cleaned of the knife and handed it to a nervous Tommy. “For her.”
Tommy glared at the gift. “You want me to give her the knife you killed her mother with?”
“She killed the infected with it, and that’s what I killed Nick with… I used it to ortect her, and she used to to protect… Ellie.” Joel said her name outloud now. “You don’t have to tell her about me just… I want her to have something, please?”
Tommy stared at Joel for several moments. He hated Joel… but he’d always live him. Joel raised him most of his life, and they raised Sarah together. Joel was his brother, always, and the reason his now-daughter existed. “I’ll tell her about Sarah. I’ll… She’ll know she has a sister.” A fresh tear escaped, Tommy wiped it with the sleeve of the arm holding the knife as he sniffled at the mention of his precious niece he loved so much. “I dunno how I’m gonna explain the rest, but she’ll know she had a sister.” A deep breath. “And she’ll have her knife, so no matter what… you both with be protecting her, okay?”
Joel nodded.
“But you can’t go after the others. Zach, Lorenzo, Jack, Maura, got it? They are gonna suffer enough. With this news, just… leave them be.”
Joel agreed, then explained his horse is out front, a quick ride back to Jackson. Joel would walk back on his wounded leg. “Thank you, Tommy. I love you. I’m always gonna love you, even if you hate me.”
Turning on a heel, Tommy walked away, carrying little Ellie, taking off his scarf to wrap around her in the cool weather. It wasn’t anything too cold, the sun was out and shining at least, and no wind. Tommy was dead set and determined to walk away, to never speak to his brother again… but he stopped. He didn’t look back, but he spoke, quiet but just loud enough for Joel to hear. “I love you too, hermano.”
With that, Joel watched the only two things left in this life that he loved, walk away.
***********
Joel at the end, what Tommy see’s as Joel exits the room after murdering little one
Art my @melodymakesart
Continue the story 16 years latter with Ghost of You, Ellie’s journey in finding out the truth
Wow. WOW. I cannot thank you guys all enough for how much support i've gotten on this series. Biggest thank you's to the-fox-den, dinsbaby, foggymoonbanana, primos world, Fen, my dear maura, miraclesabound, not a unique snowflake blog and koshkaj for always leaving such nice comments! (everyones comments are appriacted and loved i just see these guys do it every single chapter without fail.)
also thanks to everyone who reached out about the bomb threat. we are all doing much better now.
I love you al so much and cannot ever express how much the reaction to this series has touched me.
That's right, the baby is Ellie.
I do want to say, that in this series, since reader isn't Anna, this means Ellie can look like anything, no matter the race. It just matters she's ellie and she's immune. Little one isn't a great reader, she's largely oc but i wanted to keep things as inclusive as i could instead of an OC
and i did say major character death ;-; good bye little one. You deserved better.
THOUGHTS?!?!?! shout out to spadesjade on ao3 who correctly guess that little one dies and tommy and maria raise the baby!
Remember, there's still the alt ending! This one will be a bittersweet, happier ish ending.
As always, if you hate both endings, my fics are open for you to write your own version of the end or use this universe in anyway. And if you'd like, i'll add it to the masterlist for additional reading!!!
In the mean time, come read Dirty Little Secret, my dark!joel one shot
LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!
Remember, reblogs spread the work, comments motivate!!!!
@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana@dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld@marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den
@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy
#dark!joel#the wrong way series#the last of us hbo#dark joel miller#joel miller#joel miller smut#non con#dub con#the wrong way fic#joel miller fic#Tommy miller#dddne#joel miller reader#joel miller fem reader#fem reader#fem!reader#tommy miller reader#tommy miller fem!reader#tommy miller fem reader#tommy miller smut#Spotify
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The Itsy-Bitsy Spider-Man (Bat?)
by RatsCanTalk
Spider-Man was aware of a lot; smells, what hid in the dark, how babies were made, etc. He was not aware of how he ended up hanging upside down from a broken lamp post in a city he had never heard of.
However, we do know the Waynes are notorious for adopting random orphans, especially ones with hero complexes.
Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Marvel
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Categories: Multi
Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin - Character, Black Bat, Spoiler, Signal, Duke Thomas, Spiderman, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Bruce Wayne, Joker, Damian Wayne, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown & Peter Parker, Cassandra Cain & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, batfam - Relationship
Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Batfamily (DCU), Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Good Sibling Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Lives in Gotham City, Precious Peter Parker, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Whump, Major Character Injury, Alternate Universe, Dick Grayson Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vigilantism, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Main characters live, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Found Family, Adoptive Parent Bruce Wayne, Blood and Injury, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider
via https://ift.tt/PjmCJ43
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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller
Part Three
Chapter Directory
Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)
Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!
wc: 3.1k
I freeze in my tracks and listen around me. The smell of blood never brings anything good with it.
Ten Years Later
A knock at the door interrupts my peace. So much for a quiet night. With a roll of my eyes and a sigh, I get myself off the deteriorating couch and walk to the door. My fingers ghost over the doorknob before I open it, preparing myself for whatever may wait for me. I swallow hard and swing the door open before I talk myself out of opening it.
A familiar face waits for me on the other side and I quickly let him in. I poke my head out into the hall to make sure nobody saw him enter my place and step back inside once I'm satisfied with the lack of witnesses. The door swings shut and I run a hand through my hair with frustration,
"What the hell are you doing here during the day?" I struggle to keep my voice down and the man just stares back at me with a blank face. I shake my head with an exasperated expression, waiting for him to talk.
"Somethin' came up, okay? Couldn't wait 'til night. Can you get a payload to the east side of area two tonight?" I bite the inside of my cheeks in frustration as the words come out of his mouth.
"Why can't you just take it there now, James?" My voice is harsh and he runs a hand over his unkempt beard.
"I've got some enemies over there and I'm tryin' to lay low for a while 'til I get that shit sorted." His voice becomes tinged with annoyance and he puts his hands on his hips. I take a calming breath and turn away from him, running my hands over my face and return to my seat on the couch. Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I look back to James.
"I thought I told you I was flying under the radar for a while, things got too hot." I remind him that I want to take a break from pill smuggling for a few weeks because we were almost caught outside after curfew a few nights ago. Either he forgot or doesn't care. He shifts his weight and shrugs his shoulders.
"I know. But after this I promise I won't come 'round for a month. Pay is double the usual." I squint my eyes at his words, not believing he'll leave me alone for a month. That would be too sweet. But, the payoff of this does sound enticing. I arch an eyebrow and curiosity gets the best of me.
"Double the pay? What's the catch?" I ask, knowing that something has to be up. People don't just double payments unless they're desperate. I see his the corner of his lip turn up into a smirk.
"It's for the Fireflies." There's a trace of humor in his voice, but it's anything but funny. Blankly, I stare at him, trying to understand if he really just told me I'd have to interact with Fireflies.
There's not a lot of jobs I turn down, but dealing with the Fireflies is almost always a no-go for me. The rag-tag group is full of nothing but people who are full of delusions and work towards a goal that will never be attainable.
They constantly blow up FEDRA buildings, injuring many innocent people; and I can never justify the deaths of innocents. Sure, I don't necessarily agree with how FEDRA conducts business all the time, but they keep things in the quarantine zone orderly enough, and I'll take strained order over anarchy any day.
My last interaction with a Firefly left my blood boiling. She was a young girl, probably early twenties, and she was openly bragging about building a bomb that they were going to detonate that night. She was excited to tell me what building she was going to demolish. For what reason? "To show those FEDRA bastards who they're messing with". Needless to say, after the transaction, I took a detour to that building and dismantled her poorly built bomb.
If the Fireflies really wanted to dismantle FEDRA, they'd take a different approach. One that doesn't involve killing innocent people. By blowing up buildings and killing people in the QZ who have nothing to do with their fight, they're turning more people against them than they realize. But what do I know?
"You're shitting me." I call his bluff and he shakes his head with a smile, it's almost as if he enjoys giving me bad news.
"No ma'am I am not." He says and reaches into his back pocket. He tosses a bag full of white pills at me. It's the same amount as any other drop off.
One of their mercenaries must have gotten hurt. The Fireflies rarely want to pay our regular rate, much less double. My gaze flickers back up to James, debating whether the payoff is worth it. If I am taking a break for smuggling for a while, the extra ration cards might be nice.
"Area two you said?" I clarify, fiddling with the bag in my hand. James nods his head, smile dying off his face.
"Yes ma'am, east side." He confirms. I stare down at the pills and debate to take the job or not. I know this QZ like the back of my hand, and I have no known enemies in the area. I can leave now and be back just after nightfall, and I can take my time to cover my tracks. Squeezing my eyes shut, I know the pay is too good to turn down.
"Fine. I'll do it. Where at on the east side?" I ask and he excitedly pulls a map from his other pocket. He spreads it out on my rickety kitchen table and points out the specific building the buyer will be waiting for me in. I've been there before a few times, I know the layout well enough.
Once James leaves I begin getting ready for my departure. It's just a quick run and then after this I can relax for a while. Those words repeat in my mind as if I'm trying to convince myself that it's true.
I grab my worn out backpack and put the pills in the secret pocket I had sewn into the lining. If someone were to search my bag, it would be nearly impossible for them to find. I make sure to pack my decoy items so that I'm not walking around with an apparent empty backpack, and then toss the bag onto the couch. Quickly, I lace up my boots and shrug on my jacket before I tuck my small firearm into the band of my pants. I grab the backpack off the couch and sling it over my shoulders as I leave my apartment.
My boots hit the wet concrete and I pull the hood of my jacket up over my head. Of course, the day I have to go to the east side of area two it's raining. Luckily, the distance from the west side of area one to the east side of two is just a few miles, so it's not too bad of a trip, but it is the most inconvenient one. Since it's still light out people are milling about, some too drunk to walk straight and others wrapping up their duties for the day.
FEDRA stuck me on graffiti coverup today, so thankfully my job was finished early and didn't drag on like some of the others. The plan was to have a nice, quiet night to myself without the disturbance of James, or anyone else. But of course, I can have no peace here.
I walk as quickly as I can to the east side, being sure to look inconspicuous enough to not get singled out by a FEDRA soldier. Of course, those who are into the illicit pill trade know me and typically let me slide. But there are some rule abiding soldiers out there who like to conduct random searches on whoever they think looks like they're up to no good. The soldiers are especially strict now, after a recent Firefly attack disabled one of the main entrance points of the QZ.
I reach the designated building without incident, and make note that the sun is already disappearing from the sky. I won't be able to make it back before curfew, so I'll have to take extra time to slink away in the shadows. Before I walk in to make the deal, I look to my left and right to be sure nobody is trailing me, and thankfully the streets are becoming desolate for the night.
My footsteps echo in the empty, dilapidated building as I go to the staircase. The stairs creak with each step, and I know that the Firefly I'm here to meet is sure of my presence. This building is not the best for clandestine drug deals.
Once I reach the third floor, I open the door cautiously. I step inside and see three Fireflies there, all looking at me with wide eyes. My attention is quickly turned to the Firefly on the ground, a large wound on her leg. It looks like she got caught on barbed wire or something. There's a makeshift tourniquet around the upper part of her thigh. I'm no doctor, but I think they're going to need more than a few narcotics to take care of this. One of them clears their throat, breaking my gaze from the injured woman.
"Do you have them?" The man speaks in a gruff voice. Wordlessly, I take the backpack off my shoulders and place it on the ground.
"Do you have the payment?" I ask, feeling only slightly guilty I'm asking for proof of payment while there's a severely injured woman in need right beside me. The man grunts and reaches into his pocket, pulling out several ration cards. It's all the proof I need.
I dig the pills out of my bag and we make an easy trade. The man tosses the bag to the injured woman, and the third Firefly goes to be by her side. In a scramble, the third member looks for a water bottle so that the injured woman can swallow the pills. She finds a bottle in her bag, but it's empty. She throws the bottle across the room in frustration and it bounces off the wall, landing on the old rotting floor with a thud.
"Here." I say, pulling a bottle out of my bag. I always pack a bottle of water as a decoy item, but it's obvious that she needs it more than I do. Plus, I don't have pills on me anymore, so there's really no need for decoy items.
"Thank you." The worried woman sounds relieved and cracks the seal on the bottle, handing it to her injured comrade.
"Don't mention it." I say, picking my bag off the ground and putting it back on my shoulders. I go to leave the building, but a voice stops me in my tracks.
"Wait, um, how do we contact you if we need more? We just kind of got this deal on a whim today. Right place, right time kinda thing." The woman helping the injured one asks. I turn back around to face them, struggling with what to tell them.
I don't like helping the Fireflies in any capacity, and I also don't like handing out information on how to find myself and my associates. Business is done on a lowkey, under the table, if you know, you know type of deal. They all look at me with expecting eyes, a silent plea, and the injured member has tears streaking down her cheeks, swaying me to give them a scrap of information.
"You can find some of us in area one, but most are over in five." I tell them vaguely, not wanting to give a step by step on how to single us out. If I did, I'd only put myself at more risk.
"That's it?" The man questions angrily, fists clenching by his sides. I look from his fists to his face, squinting my eyes. Men like him always seem to think their physicality will intimidate me.
"That's it. I'm not giving you names or buildings. Work with what you've got, you're lucky I gave you that much." I say, my voice void of any pleasantry it held only a few seconds ago. Add this encounter to the list of reasons why I hate dealing with the Fireflies.
Before the man can say anything else, I'm out the door and down the stairs. I pull my hood over my head once more and step out into the night. I'm careful to keep an eye out for soldiers and stick to the back alleyways where they never patrol regularly. Thankfully, the moon is full tonight, illuminating the ground nicely for me so I don't have to use a flashlight to find my way and attract unwanted attention.
The rain begins to pick up more heavily and I pick up my pace, wanting to be home already. I think about the rest of my night, and how I won't let the Fireflies ruin it for me. I know I've got a stashed bottle of wine, maybe I'll get into that tonight. However, my thoughts regarding my nightly plans are cut short as I walk past a smaller alleyway and the unmistakable metallic scent of blood hits my nose.
I freeze in my tracks and listen around me. The smell of blood never brings anything good with it. My mind runs through what it could be from, landing on the infected or a shootout as the most probable causes. But I didn't hear gunshots, which leaves the most dreaded option. My blood runs cold and I swallow hard, grabbing my small firearm out of my waistband. If somehow the infected did get in here, it's hard telling how widespread it's become.
Carefully, I walk down the smaller alleyway, gun in front of me. There's a large, overflowing dumpster on the left side, pushed up against a building. Other than that, it looks empty. But, I know my mind won't rest until I'm sure the alleyway is clear of infected. I hold my breath as I approach the dumpster and listen intently for movement. Only the falling rain can be heard.
I take another step forward and peer around the dumpster, stunned by the scene in front of me. Before I do anything else, I check my surroundings one more time to make sure there's nobody else here. Once I'm sure that nobody is lurking around, I kneel down to inspect what I'm looking at.
Behind the dumpster lies a young teenage boy, maybe around sixteen years old. The boy is dead, and looks like he's been gone for hours by now. I get my backpack off my shoulders and search frantically for my flashlight, thankful that it isn't buried at the bottom. I click the light on to get a better look and gag as I see what lies before me.
It appears the boy has been stabbed to death. There are several jagged slash marks on his torso, and one on his temple. He won't be coming back as an infected, but this looks deliberate, personal. Who would want a young boy dead like this?
The boy's insides are spilling out of his torso, blood no longer freely flowing. The rain must have washed away what already drained from him. However, the rain cannot wash away the smell of death as easily. I hold my breath as I inspect the body closely.
There are no signs of infection. This wasn't done out of protection. I catch a glimpse of something unusual on the boy's forehead, his hair obscuring the mark. With the end of my flashlight, I push the hair out of the way and see that someone carved the letter 'T' into his skin.
No longer being able to stand the sight of this poor boy, I click my flashlight off and step back from the scene. Normally, I would report this immediately. But, I'm out past curfew, and I don't want to have to face the punishment. A lady two weeks ago was hanged for being outside past curfew, and I already received a warning about this a few weeks ago; hence why I want to take a break from pill running. Sure, it's selfish of me to think this way and I feel guilty for it, but he's already dead; there's not much worse that can happen to him now.
Swallowing the rising bile in my throat, I force myself to turn away from the boy's body and vow to report it in the morning. I'm sure I'll be able to come up with some reason I was out this way.
With each step I take my mind is overcome with the grisly images of the blatant murder. The boy was so young, and the killing was terribly brutal. Whoever did this to him didn't do it out of self-defense. No, it looked like the killer took joy in mutilating the poor boy's body.
Tears sting my eyes as I think about the boy and his family who tragically lost their loved one in such a gruesome way. No parent should ever have to lose a child, especially not in a malicious way such as this.
It chills me to know that there's someone in the QZ who is capable of this type of crime. How many more are at risk of falling victim? The thought makes me nauseous and I force myself to think about something else for the remainder of the trip back to my place or else I might get sick in the street.
I get to my apartment and drop off my bag by the door and kick my boots off, not caring where they land. All previous plans for the night are abandoned, and instead, I can only pace back and forth. My mind begins working to create a story of why I was out there and how I found the body.
Maybe I was out that way to see a friend, and thought that route was a shortcut. I walked past the alleyway and smelled something terrible. That's when I found him. Yeah, I think this story is simple enough, but believable. The FEDRA guards should buy it without much skepticism. Even if they did suspect I was lying, there's no way for them to prove me wrong.
I hope they catch whoever did this. The monster who ruthlessly killed this boy deserves whatever fate he meets. If a woman was hanged for being out past curfew, it's hard to tell what FEDRA will do to a murderer.
My body is unable to rest for any amount of time, my mind works on overdrive and I pace around with racing thoughts until the sun comes back up on the horizon.
Part Four
#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller x oc#joel miller fic#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou fanfic#the last of us#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo
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I have a fic rec for you if you still have access to Twitter!
(Link here)
Meet "The Reason", a Twitter screenshot fic (thingy) by user @/Nan-Yelo. It's in Portuguese only rn, but there are plans to have it translated into both Spanish and English AND for those versions (or at least the English one) to be uploaded into ao3 in the future. But, for now, it's on Twitter, but it's entirely worth it.
Here's what it's about:
It's been almost a decade since Cell failed to escape the prison with Pac and Mike, and, since then, he's become the real king of Alcatraz. The prison itself is run better than it's even been, but he's also kinda just out here killing the shit out of guards and prisoners and even directors who mess with his rules. Real fucked up shit, but it's fine because he's a nice guy outside of that.
Enter Roier, who (so far) is kinda just. Some fuckin' guy. Look at him in that preview image, he's 100% got something up his sleeve, and he does! He's undercover, and he's. Genuinely kind of bad at it.
Fortunately for Roier, and unfortunately for Cell, Cell gets attached immediately, and that. Is. A. Problem.
It's currently a WIP with chapter four being uploaded last night. It's super good, though, and if you're into Spiderbit being fucked up little freaks, this is definitely the fic for you. It is recommended that you read if only if you're 16+ because of the mature content (graphic depictions of violence, casual minor character death, a lot of talk about death and murder), so reader discretion is advised.
You could just wait for the ao3 versions to go up, but this is the one Twitter thread fic I think is worth reading already. It's got the characterization, it's got the plot, it's got the horror, it's somehow got the unnecessary feelings thing going on. Definitely a 5/5 fic so far, so check it out if you want something to read!
#i think i've read it a dozen times so far#it's just so GOOD#tbh i'm a little jealous that this is on twitter lol it's so cool#spiderbit twitter i love you. gazes upon you from across a crowded room
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You're An Image Caught in Time: Chapter 7
You got your soulmark when you were very young. You knew who you hoped had left their mark but since they never said anything to you, you resigned yourself to a life of bitter unrequited love. As much as you wanted to meet your soulmate you knew after all these years they must not want to meet you. Though the mark never faded some days you wished it would. Especially after meeting Billy.
☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link!
Childhood Friends! Eddie Munson X Reader
Tags: 18+ NSFW (MDNI), slowish burn soulmate AU, reader is in an abusive relationship with Billy Hargrove, Dark! Billy, Eddie is a sweetheart but bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, eventual happy ending
Warnings: rape/non con elements, emotional and physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal thoughts
Chapter 7/28 Previous chapter → Next chapter
Eddie walked slowly towards you. The closer he got the more mist formed in his eyes dousing the flames. He was almost right in front of you when you closed your eyes. You wanted them both to just go away and leave you there in that bathroom to deal with this on our own. This is no one’s fault but your own. If you could just listen and behave for once none of this would have happened. Billy’s voice, ever present in your mind. Your friends didn’t need to deal with this, you would figure this out on your own. Somehow.
Eddie’s throat was dry as you heard him whisper from beyond your eyelids, “Robin? Go get Ms. Kelly.” You felt her arms leave your sides and then the bathroom door quickly opened and closed again. You knew you were alone with Eddie and that fact made it even more difficult to open your eyes again. You felt his fingers ghost over the marks on your wrists as he lifted your hands.
“Hey pretty girl, can you open your eyes for me?” his voice and choice of words made you teary eyed again as your subconscious decides now is a great time to recall when he first used those words.
Your mom had bought you a new dress to wear for the first day of school. You were so excited to show everyone! It was fluffy and covered in flowers. You were so confused why they were yelling,
“She looks like a whore. Get that shit out of here,” your stepdad finished his drink.
You started crying. You couldn’t help it. They didn’t like that. Your stepdad grabbed your hair and threw you outside in the rain. He started laughing when the hem of your dress got dirty from splashing in the muddy water. Mom did nothing. They closed the door and left you out on the porch, your dress ruined. You trudged your way slowly across the muddy road and it got worse. You tried to stop crying by the time you made it up Eddie’s stoop and knocked on the door.
He opened the door and looked at you with a smile, “Hey pretty girl, you wanna play in the rain with me?” He ran outside and twirled around, getting soaked. Soon you were a matching pair of muddy messes.
You reluctantly lifted your eyelids and saw how close he was standing to you. Two wet lines glossed down his face. A faint discolored area on his right cheek. He looked so vulnerable. Even as a kid you never saw Eddie cry, or show any weakness for that matter. He was always your knight in shining armor ready with a book, a blanket, and laughs when you needed them. Until he wasn’t. He abandoned you, remember? The words in your head, though not your own, weren’t wrong.
The sound of your own voice startled you by how broken you sounded, “Eddie. Please just leave me alone. I can’t talk to you anymore. You were right,” you remembered how you felt that day so long ago when the roles were reversed, “It’s better if we aren’t friends.”
His grip on your hands tightened just a hint as he gave them a light squeeze, “If those are your words and not his sweetheart, you’ll never hear from me again. If you won’t do it for me you should talk to Ms. Kelly for Robin. She told me,” his face twisted in anguish, “She told me a lot this week. He hits you doesn’t he? More than just this time. How long has he been hurting you?” A dangerous cocktail of anger and sadness filled his voice as he kept holding your hands.
“Please just let it go Eddie,” you shook your head and looked at the floor. Gravity pulling all the liquid you had left in your dehydrated body out of your tear ducts. You felt yourself getting upset when he wouldn’t drop it. The years of being pushed away finally came into the forefront, “Why do you suddenly care so much? You ignored me for years Eddie! Do you know how much that hurt? To be turned away everytime I tried to talk to you only to finally have no choice but to give up. Now all of sudden you think you can just show up and tell me how to live my life? I can handle this on my own. I don’t need Ms. Kelly, Robin, or you!”
You grabbed your jacket from the floor and pulled it back on. You collected your things from the bathroom stall and left. You walked out of the school building and into the parking lot. You weren’t sure if Eddie was following you but you didn’t want to stick around and find out. You didn’t know where to go. Home sounded like a horrible option, mom would still be there and you didn’t want to even think about seeing her. Not that she would have noticed you’ve been gone for three days, you’d been disappearing like this for years and she’s never cared. Billy was working and… you stopped in your tracks as you headed farther and farther from the school. You didn’t have anywhere else to go. Billy had made sure that you broke ties with all your friends. The list of people you spoke to was so limited that now you had no one. A soulmate who didn’t want you, friends who you pushed away and alienated. You fell against a tree on the side of the road and felt your mind start to separate from your body as you highly considered making yourself lost in the woods. Billy wouldn’t hurt Eddie again and besides it’s not like anyone would miss you.
You don’t know how long you sat there by that tree until you heard a car pull up.
“What the hell are you doing sitting out here? I thought I told you I’d come pick you up. Did you get impatient and just start walking? Holy shit your hands are freezing, how long have you been sitting here! Did the freak say something to you again? Jesus, I'll kill him this time.” You felt a hand lift you from the ground and guide you into the warm car.
“Wake the fuck up, you’re acting like a zombie,” his hand stung your cold skin as he smacked your cheeks, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Wake up!” He screamed and slapped your face harder, knocking your brain back into place.
Billy was staring at you with something that some outsider might call concern in his eyes. You tested your facial muscles and tried to regain any sort of feeling. Your mouth hurt as you tried to speak, “I’m sorry Billy. Can we go home please?”
“Jesus yeah we can go home,” again he sounded relieved but you knew it wasn’t genuine. He shifted the car from park and pulled away.
The road curved and lifted with small hills as Billy drove back in the direction you’d walked hours ago. The sun was on its way down already, the winter season making it feel much later than it was. Over the horizon you noticed a figure walking in the same direction as you. Your heart sank. Eddie was in the street, probably looking for you, you saw as you got closer that his hands were cupped around his mouth and he was shouting. Billy stepped on the gas.
“Should I hit him? 10 points if I do!” His voice sounded manic. He gripped the steering wheel hard and flicked his head back and forth between you and the road, “Come on no one will miss him!”
Your body felt incredibly weak. You wanted so badly to reach out and stop Billy but you couldn’t, your muscles were still frozen.
“I heard a rumor, you know. I guess he’s been going around telling everyone he’s your true soulmate, not me. Can you imagine? That freak with a soulmate!” He revved the engine again, speeding up even more.
The air left your lungs. That wasn’t possible. He would have told you! Besides, his soulmate was Chrissy and he said he didn’t like to talk about it. Why would he be spreading rumors about that? Billy’s just lying to upset me. There’s no way. Why wouldn’t he have told me? Eddie was getting closer.
“Come on Billy this isn’t funny, if you kill him you’ll go to jail.” Eddie was just yards away from you. He turned around and saw the car. You screamed, “Stop Billy!” Finding your strength to grab the steering wheel from him and swerve out of the way just in time. The car jerked sharply to the left as you pushed the wheel away from Eddie’s direction. Your neck bending back between the front seats as you watched out the back window to make sure Eddie was ok.
Billy’s manic voice continued, his words morphed into crazed laughter, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. You actually care about him don’t you!”
“No Billy,” your chest ached as you lied, “I just didn’t want you to go to jail for running someone over!”
“Don’t bullshit me! I can tell when you're lying,” he continued yelling, “You want to prove to me you don’t have feelings for him?”
“Anything Billy!”
He got a look in his eyes. Your already cold face went white. There was one thing Billy always wanted to do and you somehow have avoided it this long. His perversions scaled far beyond just rough sex. A lifetime passes in that car before you finally reach your destination. Billy’s house. Max’s mom was at work and she wasn’t home from school yet. There was no one here to save you. This was it. Your muscles constricted with fear. You clawed at your skin, phantom pains pricking all over your body. He got out and pulled you by the arm into his room.
He pushed you onto the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. You cowered in fear as he pulled out his pocket knife. He wasted no time pinning you down. Laughing as you cried. He cut your shirt off and pulled the flat side of the knife across your skin, you felt the edge of the blade nick your skin as your stomach convulsed. Your breaths are erratic. Snot draining from your nose and running down your face as you desperately wanted to get away. Billy’s eyes were dark. His pupils dilated and a sadistic smirk lifted the side of his mouth.
“Careful sugar, ” he pulled the blade up. A small line of red grazing the edge, “Stop moving so much or I could do some serious damage.”
The thought of how your relationship with Billy might progress or eventually end had always been in the back of your mind. You’d always wondered if things with him would escalate too far and you’d finally say enough is enough. You cursed yourself for not seeing it sooner as you reached that threshold in this moment on his bed. There was no more doubt. You had to get away or one day Billy would kill you. Your eyes blinked and noticed that he left the door open. If you could get out of the house maybe you could make it to a neighbor. You tried to calm down but his evil stare filled you with fear.
He dragged the blade across your stomach again, purposely puncturing the skin. You felt warm liquid drip down your side from your hip where he cut you. You scream out in pain and beg for help.
“No one’s coming to save you slut,” Billy yanks your jeans off and undoes his zipper. He pushes your panties to the side. It hurts so badly when he thrusts his way inside your dry entrance. You scream out in pain as he fucks into you anyways. He presses the knife to your throat as he fucks you harder.
“You are mine! You’ll always be mine! You can’t escape me,” his hand pressed into an almost healed bruise in your collar bone, you spewed an endless stream of pleas and cries for mercy. Begging him to stop. He pulls out and for a moment you feel relief but it doesn't last. He flips you onto your stomach and cuts you again as he hoists your hips up with the knife still in his hand. He presses your face into his mattress. He pushes your hair back and begins toying with the knife against your skin, your chest hurts, hyperventilating as you come to the horrific realization of what he’s going to do.
“No Billy! Please, anything but that! Don’t please, I’m begging you stop!” the wide, flat metal glides across your soulmark. Panic fills every word that you somehow manage to speak, “I’ll go get it covered up! Right now, we can go right now! Please I’ll do anything,” every muscle in your face hurt as you cried, tears and snot leaving their mark on his sheet.
“It’s his isn’t it?” His cool, calculated words sent icy chills through your soul, “That freak’s the one who marked you,” he got louder, “Admit it! It’s his isn’t it!” You just cried harder, upsetting him more.
“Wonder what he’d say if he saw my name carved in your skin on top of his mark.”
The angle of the knife changed and you screamed at the top of your lungs hoping someone would hear you and take pity on you. The tip pressed in sharply as he dragged it down forming the first line in the letter B. Thrashing your limbs from beneath him you kicked his balls and he recoiled. This is my chance! You summoned all your strength and kicked him again! Giving yourself enough space to shoot up out of the bed and run! You didn’t make it far though as you tripped on the jeans still wrapped around your feet.
Billy hissed as he recovered from your blow, “Bad idea slut, you are so dead now!” He grabbed your ankle and you screamed again at the top of your lungs, continuing to thrash and whip around desperate to get free. His grip held firm and he pulled you back towards him. Your body was so tired and you started to feel like you’d never have the strength to break free again. He flipped you on your back and grabbed you up by the bra straps. You spit in his face before biting his hand as hard as you could, you even drew a little blood. You kicked him again! Your confined feet whipping up and down kicking him over and over again! The motion loosened the fabric from around you just enough to crawl out of the jeans and up towards the door. You made it to the living room and spotted his keys on the counter. Grand theft auto it is! You snatched them up and ran like hell out into the night air. Pulse racing as you heard him yell after you. You didn’t stop to look back as you shoved the key in the ignition and headed for Forest Hills Trailer Park.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#soulmate au#soulmate identifying marks#childhood friend eddie munson#high school sweethearts#stranger things fanfic#stranger things smut#18+ content
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weekly fic recs | 42
fandoms: bnha, hq, jjk, mdzs, tgcf
bnha
Flare Signal by achievingelysium
(graphic depictions of violence)
AU. Midoriya Izuku shouldn't be surprised he ended up like this: hiding the secret of One for All from his own father, the notorious villain Dragon. The path to being a hero is a hard one.
Or; Izuku is an aspiring hero forced to work for his father’s villain organization. Then he runs into All Might.
Fingers Itch, Are You Pistol-Whipped? by iizukuus
(explicit) (graphic depictions of violence)
Katsuki crosses one leg over the other in his seat when Todoroki stumbles into the conference room an hour and a half late. And yeah, Todoroki’s fucking killing him with that glare of his. Lip’s twitching, tugging, fingers going like he’s getting ready to lunge at Katsuki over the table, but he won’t. Can’t.
Realistically, Katsuki didn’t do shit.
He’s not Todoroki’s maid, he’s not his fucking mother, and the asshole can consider this payback for the six-day old dishes in the sink. Katsuki wasn’t gonna give in, but at a certain point — you gotta do what’s good for the apartment as a whole. In the end, IcyHot wasn’t getting on it and Katsuki spent two hours scrubbing and putting away a mess he didn’t make.
So no, Katsuki isn’t gonna ride Todoroki’s dick, but Todoroki can sure as fuck suck his, cause that’s what he gets for not doing his fucking chores.
Or: Katsuki and Shouto just need a little love in their hearts.
to learn to be (me) by thekingoftrash
(mature)
In order to deal with the shit show that is his life, Shouto's always relied on some unhealthy coping mechanisms to help. It starts to become a problem at UA, but luckily, there are some people in his life that'll do whatever it takes to give him the life and happiness he deserves. It just might hurt a little in the meantime.
Or a lot. But hey, nobody said it'd be easy.
hq
Scheming Students by LindtLuirae
“To be fair,” Atsumu says, biting into his favourite fatty tuna Onigiri and chewing thoughtfully. “I keep catching students gossiping about us.”
That gives Kiyoomi a pause. “About us?”
“Aha,” Atsumu nods, finishing his onigiri with relish. “Like they pass notes ‘bout us bein’ cute together.”
jjk
Antipathy by CalicoColors
It's not a problem like Itadori thinks it to be. It's just a habit of his, a quirky little trait. Some people pick their skin, or crack their joints, or cover their mirrors. Megumi just doesn't like to eat.
mdzs
Company by WithBroomBefore
Lan Wangji is fourteen when the dying boy comes to stay at Cloud Recesses.
synesthesia by uchiuchi
When the darkness fades away and a face pops up, Wei Ying almost falls out of his chair.
What the fuck, he thinks. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
Wei Ying counts to three, takes a breath, then shoots upwards. “Sorry, I dropped my pen,” he says, not even trying to make his lie sound convincing, because what the fuck, Lan Zhan is gorgeous. He has the brightest eyes Wei Ying’s ever seen, the nicest, longest eyelashes, and black hair draping over his shoulder. This guy has clearly won the lottery of attractive genes, which means he must be lacking in something else, like maybe his voice—
“It’s fine.”
WHAT THE FUCK, Wei Ying thinks. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.
(In which Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, students from different universities, are assigned to complete a senior project together.)
Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm
“Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?
“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”
Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.
tgcf
your arms, my home by astrocosmos
One by one, Heavenly Officials have begun to vanish without a trace. It's up to the remaining few to uncover why.
—or is it?
two idiots don't cancel each other out by astrocosmos, moonsteps
“Gege? What’s going on?”
Xie Lian has gone bright red, his eyes flickering back and forth between He Xuan, who he’s still laying on, and Hua Cheng, who might have gone into actual shock.
“San Lang! We’re, we...uh, this is—”
He Xuan takes a deep breath, sends a prayer to the dead hermit crab he had when he was twelve, and says, “Xie Lian and I are dating.”
(Or: He Xuan gets dragged into a love triangle he never wanted to be part of.)
willow branches and flowers by curiositykilled
“Xie Lian?” the doctor asks.
Xie Lian had thought it safe enough to use his name after this many years, five hundred past the death of Xianle, but he questions that belief as her brow furrows.
“Ah,” he says, uncertain how to proceed but certain that changing it now would only raise her suspicions. “Yes?”
“Like the shrine?”
-
After a mishap helping a village get rid of a malevolent ghost, Xie Lian stumbles upon a mysterious shrine and its keeper and discovers his most devoted believer in the last place he'd ever think to look.
#weekly fic recs#bnha fic recs#bnha#hq fic recs#hq#jjk fic recs#jjk#mdzs fic recs#mdzs#tgcf fic recs#tgcf#no prompt
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The Itsy-Bitsy Spider-Man (Bat?)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/55213492
by RatsCanTalk
Spider-Man was aware of a lot; smells, what hid in the dark, how babies were made, etc. He was not aware of how he ended up hanging upside down from a broken lamp post in a city he had never heard of.
However, we do know the Waynes are notorious for adopting random orphans, especially ones with hero complexes.
Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Marvel
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Categories: Multi
Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin - Character, Black Bat, Spoiler, Signal, Duke Thomas, Spiderman, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Bruce Wayne, Joker, Damian Wayne, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown & Peter Parker, Cassandra Cain & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, batfam - Relationship
Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Batfamily (DCU), Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Good Sibling Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Lives in Gotham City, Precious Peter Parker, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Whump, Major Character Injury, Alternate Universe, Dick Grayson Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vigilantism, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Main characters live, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Found Family, Adoptive Parent Bruce Wayne, Blood and Injury, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider
read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55213492
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I’ve already complained a Lot about pro-anti shit but something that bothers me that I can’t get over is that there’s actual genuine issues that go unaddressed because it gets caught up in fucking shipping drama. people do get harassed for writing any content that anyone could squint at and see as mildly objectionable- it happened to me- but one side victim blames you for it and the other treats it so fucking uncomfortably a lot of the time like. please stop talking about graphic triggering subjects and please stop going “it’s okay to be into x” when it’s not even smut that’s still sexualising my writing and it’s still fucking uncomfortable. there’s an issue with people not knowing what they’re writing is abuse, but- again- one side victim blames them for it and the other treats it as fine even though it means the person genuinely has been let down and doesn’t know vital shit about abuse and consent which puts them in danger. there’s issues with harmful depictions of stuff but one side says everything they deem problematic displayed at all is harmful and the other side says none of it is and the things that aren’t problematic quote unquote but cause harm don’t get addressed at all. like this doesn’t help anyone it forces victims either into overly puritanical and toxically positive spaces where trauma can’t even be written about or into overly sexual spaces that are also often toxically positive in their own ways where you feel pressured into acting sexual too, often when they’re still kids. it’s such a toxic mess and it’s left discussions of very real issues in the dust.
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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐔
love/healing potions= fluff, antidotes= comfort, poisons= angst, aphrodisiacs= smut; ༊*·˚= personal favourite
Love Potions:
Cuddling Headcanons || 4.3k || Multi-Character || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ scaramouche, childe, xiao, chongyun ⋆ˎˊ˗
summary: what would the characters do if they accidentally confessed to you?
Moonlit Dreams || 1.7k || One-Shot || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ al-haitham ࿐ྂ
event prompt: slow dancing
Sleepy Tighnari Drabble || ~160 || Blurb
⇢ ˗ˏˋ tighnari ࿐ྂ
Snapshot || ~930 || Drabble
⇢ ˗ˏˋ al-haitham ࿐ྂ
event prompt: taking photos
Anemo as the 5 Love Languages || 2.3k || Multi-Character || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ scaramouche, xiao, venti, heizou, kazuha ⋆ˎˊ˗
summary: everyone gives affection a different way, so how about our favourite anemo users?
warnings: minor spoiler for 3.3 archon quest [scara]
I got your back || 815 || Drabble
⇢ ˗ˏˋ kaveh ࿐ྂ
inspired by this amazing artwork
Whatever || 2.8k || One-Shot || Modern AU || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ piercer and tattoo artist! scaramouche ࿐ྂ
summary: working in a coffee shop means you always meet a wide variety of personalities; but why, out of all options, did you have to go and take an interest in the mysterious guy with an attitude problem?
warnings: uhh needles (obviously), cursing like once, reader has questionable nicknaming skills (they're worse than paimon's)
Royal Concubine AU || 2.4k || Drabbles/Rambles
⇢ ˗ˏˋ kaveh/al-haitham, shouto, kenma, inui/koko⋆ˎˊ˗
summary: i'm back on my "'i have more knowledge on x topic than all your advisers together, i just couldn’t progress through the ranks for one reason or another, so you should definitely make me your concubine, so i can gossip about your minister of finance’s stupid proposal while wearing expensive shit and fine dining and then we slowly fall in love' royal au" bs again, so have some rambles because there are a lot of possible constellations here
Antidotes:
Being sick || 350 || Drabble
⇢ ˗ˏˋ al-haitham ࿐ྂ
summary: a grumpy nurse takes care of you when you're sick
Poisons:
A moment with you || 4.6k || Multi-Character || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ scaramouche, xiao, zhongli, venti ⋆ˎˊ˗
summary: when the immortals are suddenly reminded of your mortality
warnings: overall: mentions of death; xiao's part: mentions of death, life or death situation; zhongli: mentions of past loved ones; venti: nightmares, past traumatic experiences; scaramouche: death (not reader nor character); if i forgot anything please do tell me!!
But I Still Love You || 4k || One-Shot
⇢ ˗ˏˋ scaramouche ࿐ྂ
summary: your relationship was all you could have wished for but what if it turned out it was just a little more?
prompts: 8. "you're a monster", 19. "i can't do this anymore", 23. "what's wrong with me?"
warnings: murder, somewhat graphic depiction of violence, emotional abuse+ manipulation, toxic relationship, gaslighting, mentions of suicide, yandere (?) themes, you know i normally love scara but he's a totally messed up asshole in this, i do not condone this type of behaviour; do not engage with this fic if any of these could potentially jeopardise your health!!
A million miles away || 3.5k || Multi-Character || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ scaramouche, kaveh, venti, zhongli ⋆ˎˊ˗
summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?
warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]
Aphrodisiacs: [Nsfw, minors dni]
Artistic Inspiration || 4.1k || One-Shot || Modern AU || ༊*·˚
⇢ ˗ˏˋ piercer! scaramouche ࿐ྂ
summary: every artist knows, inspiration can be found anywhere; so why not in the sheets as well?
warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, somewhat mean! scara, name calling (slut), slight degradation mixed with praise, pet names (doll, pretty), mirror sex, oral (f! receiveing), unsafe sex (rings probably shouldn’t go there, take ‘em off before you get nasty), unprotected sex (just remember you could get pregnant and if the thoughts of children doesn’t scare you… then the thought of an std should), porn without plot (what’s plot), talk about piercings and tattoos, pierced/ tattooed! scara
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬:
Jealousy || ~300 || Blurb || Modern AU
⇢ ˗ˏˋ piercer! scaramouche ࿐ྂ
nonnie asked: What’s jealous Scara like
warnings: gn!reader mentions of alcohol consumption, rough sex, soft/ mean! scara
Teasing him gone… right/wrong? || ~470 || Blurb || Modern AU
⇢ ˗ˏˋ piercer! scaramouche ࿐ྂ
nonnie asked: I wanna tease Scara in front of his friends so bad
warnings: gn! reader mention of alcohol consumption, toys, orgasm denial, (semi-) public sex, allusion to fingering/ hand job
© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai
if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡
➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list
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Horrors Beyond the Bayou AU Infodump (Q & A Style)
Edit : This AU has been renamed "Dirty Paws, Little Talks"!
First off, any triggering topics?
• Yes, there are several triggering topics that are gone over in this AU. There is a lot of bad and messed up shit happening here, the fic will be rated M on Ao3 when I start posting. Please be advised that there is going to be a lot of very upsetting topics being mentioned or discussed! This includes but is not limited to: viewing a person as property, graphic depictions of violence/torture, talk of death/suicide, suicidal ideation, self harm, graphic depictions of gore, use of weapons such as knives, etc. There will be a lot of heavy stuff in this AU. You have been warned. (All posts for this AU will be properly tagged.)
What’s the main plot of the story?
• Fazbear Entertainment basically has an underground system for black market sales because they never can pass up a few extra bucks. One of the few things they sell are tiny little creatures called Borrowers, a species thought only to exist in children’s story books (for those who don’t know what borrowers are, here’s a wiki link). Y/N is a borrower who escapes their containment before being sold, but now must learn to survive in the Pizzaplex and all the dangers it brings.
Who’s the main cast?
• Y/N is our protagonist, but Sun & Moon and Monty are also main characters in this AU. A lot of the first half of this AU is simply just for setting up Y/N’s relationship with them (romantic for DCA, queerplatonic for Monty). A lot of the other canon characters come in on the second half of the plot, which will tackle the canon plot of Security Breach. Freddy, Gregory, and another surprise character will become friends with Y/N during this time as they work together to figure out what’s happening at the Pizzaplex. Some familiar faces that are canon to FNAF but aren’t seen in SB will also be showing up!
What relationships can we expect to see?
• Sun x Y/N is a definite, but I’m on the fence whether to make Moon and Y/N romantic or queerplatonic. I’m still working on Moon’s personality in the AU, so I’m not quite sure what his sexuality is yet (they are genderfluid though). There is queerplatonic Monty & Y/N, something I wasn’t actually planning on from the start but that showed up and didn’t want to leave. They both rely heavily on each other throughout certain things that happen in the first half of the plot, and form a very tight bond. There’s also some background Roxy/Chica because those two are literally so in love and you can’t tell me otherwise. (I would like to add that all interactions are SFW, and Y/N is portrayed as being asexual. Lots of cuddles and kisses but that’s about it.)
What’s the setting of the story?
A large majority of the first half of the plot takes place in Monty Golf, and Y/N’s home is there for a very large majority of the whole plot. That’s actually how I came up with the AU name. The Theater/Daycare are the second most used setting in this AU. We will eventually be seeing the whole Pizzaplex, but for the first half of the plot Y/N is stuck to the ground floor. The Daycare has a very different set up during the very beginning of the AU since it’s technically still a theater then. The canonical theater part of the daycare was all concessions/storage back then, and the main stage was the ball pit area. The glass walls used to be bleacher-type sitting areas, separated by what is still currently being used as the daycare doorway. The line that Moon uses to get around in the air was something kept from the theater, and used to be used to better entertain and immerse the audience.
What’s the borrower world building?
• The first and most obvious thing, borrowers are a real thing in this AU. While they inspired fictional works like the Borrowers book series and the Littles, they are real beings. They look mostly human and have human intelligence, but have a few differences. They tend to have mouse-like ears, a padded nose, fangs, digigrade legs/feet, claws, tails, and fur in some areas. Their heart and respiratory rate are also considerably faster, much more in tune with that of small rodents. Borrowers tend to actually live in colonies in large abandoned buildings or old houses. Yes, there are still plenty who live in human households, but borrowers find it infinitely more safer to stay clear of human populated areas. Borrower culture can change dramatically depending on if they live in colonies or not and what location they live in, but most borrowers tend to view the sun and moon as almost gods. It’s not the same way humans typically view gods, probably better to be compared to good omens and horoscopes. While the brightness of the day isn’t safe for borrowers, the sun helps grow their food and provides them with shadow, as darkness cannot exist without light. Children born during the day are often viewed to be gifted with some sort of ability to nurture and provide. The moon is a symbol of protection, and new moons are seems as blessings. Children born at night are viewed to have different abilities based on the moon phases. Babes of the New Moon are viewed to have have the potential to create great change and are seen as lucky to have around. It’s unknown why, but sun babies and new moon babies are actually quite rare. Most borrowers tend to have their babies during or near the full moon. (This cultural view on the sun and moon does affect how Y/N views Sun & Moon in the beginning, but it’s simply a push to trust them more than the other Pizzaplex inhabitants. More of a subconscious push.)
#Dirty Paws Little Talks AU#dplt au#fnaf#fnaf au#security breach au#fnaf y/n#fnaf sun#fnaf sundrop#sundrop#fnaf moon#fnaf moondrop#moondrop#fnaf sun and moon#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf monty#fnaf montgomery#monty gator#montgomery gator#fnaf sun x y/n#fnaf moon x y/n#fnaf daycare attendant x y/n#sundrop x y/n#moondrop x y/n#montgomery gator & y/n#monty gator & y/n#fnaf g/t#fnaf giant/tiny#fnaf giant tiny#borrower au#fnaf borrower au
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The Itsy-Bitsy Spider-Man (Bat?)
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PjmCJ43
by RatsCanTalk
Spider-Man was aware of a lot; smells, what hid in the dark, how babies were made, etc. He was not aware of how he ended up hanging upside down from a broken lamp post in a city he had never heard of.
However, we do know the Waynes are notorious for adopting random orphans, especially ones with hero complexes.
Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Marvel
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Categories: Multi
Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin - Character, Black Bat, Spoiler, Signal, Duke Thomas, Spiderman, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Bruce Wayne, Joker, Damian Wayne, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown & Peter Parker, Cassandra Cain & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, batfam - Relationship
Additional Tags: Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Batfamily (DCU), Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Good Sibling Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Lives in Gotham City, Precious Peter Parker, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker Whump, Major Character Injury, Alternate Universe, Dick Grayson Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Vigilantism, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Main characters live, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Family Fluff, Found Family, Adoptive Parent Bruce Wayne, Blood and Injury, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PjmCJ43
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THE WIDOW AND THE BOY
BY: sarcasticpinapple
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30398256/chapters/74943624
TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury, nightmares
Natasha Romanoff is on the run after Captain America: Civil War, with Secretary Thaddeus Ross close on her tail. Back in Queens, she happens to run into none other than Peter Parker, the slightly annoying spider kid in spandex that Tony found on the internet somehow.
MY THOUGHTS:
I love, love, love this fanfic. It's one of my personal favorites, and I could read this a thousand times over and never get tired of it. Perfect grammar and punctuation, amazing formatting, and a smooth, consistent plot that's both in-character and makes me laugh out loud and empathize with the characters. They do an absolutely stellar job with the character's voice, and I could fully immerse myself into Nat's train of thought. If you want a lighter fic that's both realistic and kind of crack-ish at moments, this is definitely the fic for you!!
SECOND CHANCES DON’T COME EASY
BY: Watch_as_the_rain_fell
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30763790/chapters/75932426
TW: neglect? Slight emotional abuse (but it’s more implied than shown)
Natasha knows Tony was left by all of them. Let down by his entire team, including her, and she wanted to fix it in someway. What she didn't expect to find when she went to the tower was Spider-Man, much less him acting very differently to how she expected, less bubbly. What she really didn't expect was to care for the man without even knowing who he actually was.
She knew she had a long way to go to gain the trust of the two men, knew she'd made mistakes, but hadn't all of them? This whole mess had blown up quicker than any of them could have anticipated and their family was torn apart. Natasha knew that fixing her family was going to be hard but maybe Natasha wouldn't have to fix it alone.
My Thoughts:
I enjoyed this fanfic a lot, and this is honestly one of my first introductions to mama spider as a concept but it is firmly team Ironman (which I’m very anti-tony) but it’s still a great read, well-made but very angsty not going to lie. Grammar and spelling are really good, along with plot and storyline and it has proper formatting!!
DON'T HIDE THAT
BY: TheAsexualOfSpades
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465043
TW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Blood/Injury.
Spider strength is both a blessing and a curse.
Peter can hold this building up long enough for the others to get the people out. He can do so he has to do it. He grits his teeth inside the mask until the air squeaks out and still he clenches. Peter knows he’s not supposed to clench his jaw this hard, it fucks up his neck and his shoulders and his whole system, but he has to hold this building up.
My Thoughts:
Adorable and very hurt/comfort-y (which is my JAM) for those of you who prefer completed fics this is a wonderful option!!! Not a lot of overt mama spider (it's more in the background) but it's still great!
DIRTY WORK
BY: MiracleLiho
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39521496/chapters/98922948
TW: child abuse, blood/injury, panic attacks
"And maybe teenagers are like that, maybe that is what they do. She wouldn’t know.
But it all seems so wrong."
or
Natasha Romanov watches, Peter Parker is seen, and help is given. Tony is there as well, he's trying his best.
My Thoughts:
oh, my, GOD!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! NATASHA CHARACTERIZATION IS THE KIND I S T R I V E TO WRITE AND THE FORMATTING AND EVERYTHING IT'S JUST *mwah * perfect chefs kiss beautiful
That's all for now, but go over and comment someone nice things because I n e e d more of this shit.
love you all! Stay safe and drink water ❤️
#peter parker#natasha romanoff#spider man#black widow#mama spider#fanfiction recommendation#marvel fanfic writer#marvel fanfiction#fanfic writing#fanfic#fanfiction#fic recs#fics
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Left Alone to Bleed
Read on AO3
by whiteeyedtales
Kaeya gets caught in a pickle while cleaning out abyss order camps and so happens to run into a Cryo abyss mage, on his own. No one else to help him.
So the Mage wins I guess.
Diluc, everyones favourite older brother, finds his younger brother wounded while he's out doing Darknight Hero shit, picks him up and ventures his way back to the Dawn Winery.
Kaeya dreams, has nightmares/night terrors and stuggles, especially during storms.
I invoke pain on these poor boys when I come up with fanfic ideas, I just don't write them down a lot because... lazy.
Words: 359, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Gen
Characters: Diluc (Genshin Impact), Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Adelinde (Genshin Impact), Crepus (Genshin Impact)
Relationships: Diluc & Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Adelinde & Diluc & Kaeya (Genshin Impact)
Additional Tags: Family, Platonic Relationships, Crepus Adopts Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Diluc and Kaeya are Siblings (Genshin Impact), Dead Crepus (Genshin Impact), Mentioned Crepus (Genshin Impact), Grief/Mourning, Diluc is Bad at Feelings (Genshin Impact), Diluc is Protective of Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Diluc and Kaeya are Adopted Siblings (Genshin Impact), Sad Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Kaeya Needs a Hug (Genshin Impact), Kaeya Has Abandonment Issues (Genshin Impact), Kaeya Has Trust Issues (Genshin Impact), Kaeya Has Nightmares (Genshin Impact), Kaeya is a Mess (Genshin Impact), Kaeya is Bad At Feelings (Genshin Impact), Parental Adelinde (Genshin Impact), Adelinde Appreciation (Genshin Impact), Diluc and Kaeya Reconciliation (Genshin Impact), Violence, Blood and Violence, Mild Gore, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt Kaeya (Genshin Impact), Worried Diluc (Genshin Impact)
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