#i gotta get the fuck outta here man. i feel numb to everything
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just had my dad admit to me that even though he's fully aware of how much his alcoholism hurts me and my mum and brother he refuses to quit drinking outright because he likes it. cool
#im so sick of this shit. cant wait to move out#his current method if youre interested is to only drink wine after dinner. so that hes not pissed drunk at the dinner table#note: he can still drink as much beer as he wants. and still drinks all that wine after dinner anyway. and has a success rate of very bad#this is harm reduction. apparently#AND he has the fucking gall to complain that we dont give him any positive reinforcement when he succeeds!! fuck offfff#i try to be graceful and forgiving. addiction recovery isnt linear. and at least he admits its an addiction now#and he has chronic back pain and childhood trauma and whatnot. but given that he has that back pain because he stormed out in a drunken huf#then shat himself wandered into the shower to clean off and then slipped and broke his ribs. i find it. a little hard. to be sympathetic.#the complete dismissal of the success stories from recovering alcoholics going teetotal as fucking AA propaganda also doesnt help. lol.#but yeah. point is: he values being allowed to drink more than he values us and keeping himself from hurting us#there you have it. in black and white#personal#delete later#apologies for oversharing. needed to get this all out#i gotta get the fuck outta here man. i feel numb to everything#anyhoo. if you read this far kudos. thanks for lookin out or whatever <3
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"Don’t Cry”
A/N This started off as a drabble, but I got carried away and it turned into a one-shot. I’m really happy with how this one turned out! Based on number #39 from this prompt list for @phoenixblack89
Summary: Daryl hates seeing your tears. He’d much rather see you smiling, instead.
Masterlist
Buy Me A Coffee
Atlanta High School.
You’d graduated a long while back — so long ago now that you’d forgotten the feeling of walking its halls, and having your shoes squeak against the cheap wooden planks.
You could see the rows of lockers you’d chatted by daily, and the one in particular where you’d shared your first kiss with a boy whose name you couldn’t remember. The doors of the classrooms seemed familiar, as did the posters on the walls which were the same as they’d been when you attended — something about washing your hands and remembering to vote for class president.
It was as though time stood still.
And, in this very moment, there was nothing you wished for more.
Daryl’s hand was warm on your cheek, and his thumb gentle as he drew faint circles over your skin. You leaned into his touch, the same way you’d done with that boy against your locker — not even a few feet away.
But this was different.
This was Daryl.
Your lips quivered, trembling like a leaf stuck in the wind. Your hands felt numb as they pressed against him, so hard that you thought they would bruise. But all you could hear were those damn lockers — their doors slamming open and closed as they caught in the draft.
Like a sarcastic fucking applause.
Daryl tilted your head up, gently guiding your gaze from his collar to his face, where your eyes caught his. And your breath died in your throat, before bubbling into a sob that rang out in the air like the Atlanta High School bell.
He was smiling.
“Don’t cry,” he said — in the most calm, accepting tone you’d ever heard a person speak. It lacked all of his usual bite, the gruffness you’d come to know and associate with the man.
It sounded foreign.
Maybe that was why, despite his words, the tears poured over anyway, and settled on your cheeks where he swiped them away with a flick of his thumb.
“I wan’-” he started, but paused for a second to grimace from the pain. “I wanna remember ya smilin’.”
You choked on another watery cry, shaking your head away from his gentle hold, as you returned your focus to his wound.
The bite on his collarbone was deep, gushing blood quicker than you could soak it up with the tattered remnants of your jacket. His skin was a stark, vermillion red, as were your hands, as was the floor, as were those fucking lockers where you’d smeared his blood as you tried to carry him to safety.
Everything was red, red, red.
You pressed more firmly, soaking it up with fluttering hands that burnt from the sheer heat of his skin. He felt like a match having been set alight — burning brilliantly beneath your palms as you tried your best to quell the flames.
Daryl rested his hand over yours, engulfing it. “Listen to me, ” he rasped — and you panicked at how much more weak his voice was sounding — “there’s flares in my rucksack.”
He glanced over your shoulder, at the abandoned bag sitting near your feet. It was stuffed with supplies from the school — all of which were now completely useless, and nowhere near worth his goddamn life.
Sweat beaded on his skin, and collected in the dips of his collar — like little pools of salt water.
He squeezed your hand. “Ya gotta get to the roof an’ flag down Rick,” he told you, his smile dropping from his face as he became much more serious. “He’ll come for ya.”
Your hands stilled over the wound for a second, easing their pressure as you took in the man’s words. Then he flashed those eyes at you, which begged for you not to argue.
But you did.
You kicked out your leg behind you, sending that backpack sliding across those cheap wooden planks, and making it thud against a locker. You didn’t need the flares.
You just needed Daryl.
“I can’t-” you yelled, but your voice split, and the man quickly hushed you before it got too loud. After all, the dead had you surrounded. “I’m not leaving you behind,” you spluttered.
Your tone was frantic, panicked, desperate.
You could feel his heartbeat pounding underneath your palms, where you pressed down against it. It was as though you held his heart in your hands — and he’d probably argue that you always had.
Daryl shook his head smally, careful not to disturb the bite further. “An’ ya can’t take me with ya,” he replied.
No, you thought, you would carry him out if it killed you, you would fight your way through, and get him to the infirmary, and you could-
“I ain’t gonna make it, baby girl,” he whispered, “‘m sorry.”
And you broke.
Suddenly, you were aware of the flickering overhead lights that made his skin look so clammy, so sickly. You were conscious of the blood smear trail he’d left behind — that vibrant scarlet which reminded you of a burning sunset — and the pounding at the doors, and the feet squeaking on those floorboards like the lunchtime rush between classes.
“You will!” you yelled, not at all caring about how loud you’d gotten. “You have to, Daryl,” you cried, pleadingly.
His hand felt so warm that it made yours seem cold. It felt like you were the one dying — your heart shattering each time he took a wheezed breath, or flinched in pain.
“How am I-” you asked, but by now your voice had tapered off to a mere whisper. You shook your head. There was no question about it. “I can’t go on without you,” you told him.
You could hear the blood rushing to your ears as your breaths got away from you — too shallow and too sparse. Daryl looked worse each passing minute, his olive skin now a translucent grey.
He took both of your hands in his, making you drop your jacket, as blood seeped through the material of his shirt. You tried to fight against him, eyeing the trail of red as it ran along his collar like a stream, but he kept a hold of your wrists firmly — with the little strength he had left.
“Ya can,” he growled — the grit to his voice causing you to instantly still — “an’ ya will.”
And he flashed those eyes at you again, but this time they had his usual spark behind them.
“Yer the damn strongest woman I e’er met,” he went on, letting his grip loosen on your wrists ever so slightly, “‘m jus’ happy a dumb ol’ redneck like me got to spend a couple good years with ya.”
Then, he smiled.
“It was fun.”
He let your hands drop out of his, no longer having any fight left. But instead, you used them to clamber onto his lap, wrapping them around his torso as you buried your head deep into his chest — his warm, red chest.
“Please don’t talk like that!” you cried, your words muffled by his clothes and lost to his skin.“I’m not going anywhere! I want to stay with you-”
“Nah, that ain’t happenin’,” he snapped — but his hand remained light on your head, gently stroking your hair in his attempts to calm you. “I swear to god, I’ll haunt yer ass if ya dare pull somethin’ tha’ stupid.”
But you grabbed onto his shirt until your knuckles flashed white, bunching up the material in your fists like you couldn’t bear to part with it. It smelt like him — underneath the coppery scent of fresh blood.
Slowly, he tried to coax you out, but you could feel the way his hands shook, and it only made everything worse. Those hands had always been strong — had always been the ones to pick you up and set you back on your feet every time you fell.
“Look a’ me,” he pleaded, his voice croaky. He tilted your chin up again, in the same way he did every time he went to kiss you — and it made your heart hurt, because no kiss followed. “C’mon now, don’ cry,” he whispered, his breath much too hot against your skin, “‘m here.”
“But you won’t be,” you wailed, the words startling you as they crept out from your mouth.
You hadn’t wanted to admit them.
“But I am now,” Daryl replied, just as quick. “So please jus’ smile for me, would ya?”
His hand fell down to your waist, before rubbing small circles in the small of your back — just how he did every morning to wake you up.
You couldn’t do it, but you needed to do it.
For Daryl.
You uncurled yourself from his chest, and wiped away the fresh tears with your shirt, blinking away the rest. You moved in his lap until you were face to face, trying not to catch a glimpse of his wound which continued to pour red.
Then, you finally smiled back at him.
It was wobbly, and forced, but it was wide — and full of love.
“Atta girl,” he choked back, his voice breaking for the first time.
You couldn’t tell whether his glassy eyes were from the fever, or the pain, or from you, but you bit your lip either way.
Don’t cry, you told yourself, and watched as he did.
“Yer so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled, raising his thumb to the corner of your lips. It was as callous as always, but at this moment it only felt soft. “I was one lucky son o’ a bitch,” he declared, with a warm smile.
You raised your hands in return, cupping his face and feeling his beard tickle over your palms — thinking back to the times you complained at how unkempt it was. His forehead dropped down onto yours, and the heat from his skin radiated outwards, setting you ablaze as you touched.
“I love you, Dixon,” you confessed, as though it were the first time and not the last. “Now and always.”
The overhead lights hummed as they flickered like camera flashes, and the pounding at the door became more incessant.
So, you drowned everything out with a press of your lips to his — as Daryl tilted your head up in the way he always did, and gave you one final kiss which tasted like seasalt and copper. It was underneath the locker where you’d had your first kiss, but now it marked your last one with the man you loved most in this world.
“Me too,” Daryl whispered, as you broke apart. He glanced over your shoulder once again, at the discarded backpack across the hall. “Now get outta here before they break through.”
You stumbled to your feet violently, needing a strong, stark shock to actually be enough to pull you away from the man for good.
And you didn’t look back.
You couldn’t. If you so much as caught a glimpse of those angel wings or heard as little as a breath escape his mouth, you wouldn’t have left.
And that would’ve killed Daryl in more ways than one.
So, you retrieved the backpack, and opened the fire escape door a few feet away, before slipping behind it, and sliding down to your knees.
The concrete cut your skin open, and once again you were confronted with red.
A cry escaped you, which morphed into a wail as you clutched your chest and tried to fix the bleeding happening inside it — the red that you couldn’t see.
But a shout startled you, and ceased your sobs as soon as they sounded.
“Don’ cry!” Daryl’s voice yelled, muffled by the metal door but still strong, and guttural, and fierce. “I can hear ya!”
So, you picked yourself back up, and set yourself on your feet in the same way he’d taught you how — and you ran for the roof, flare in hand.
Atlanta High School always had the best rooftop view.
The sunset stretched out in the distance, one of brilliant vermillion, and warm, copper orange. The balcony was the same as you remembered, with high metal railings to keep students from jumping, or getting too close to that view.
This roof had been the place where you’d yelled about hating this place, this town, this state — and had cried out to the sky about wishing to anywhere but here.
But now you didn’t want to leave.
Because your everything was right here.
You held the flare in your hand, wondering what colours it would burst and illuminate the sky — whilst praying it would be anything other than red.
You let off the flare, and a single gunshot followed.
End.
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A/N Blame Jess and Shannon for the increase in angst.
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please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺
a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do!
Context provided, don’t worry babes
WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)
Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods)
-
“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1
Saeyoung
You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.
When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile
Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was
He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms
Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan
Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE
He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this
He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know)
Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?”
His morning voice was... nice.
You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little
(It wasn’t subtle)
But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference
Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything.
“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.”
You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.”
A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo
But he was NOT about to lose
Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser
“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.”
You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.
Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes
“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”
You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”
A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face
“I win.”
“Eat a dick, Seven.”
“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“
You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely
Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight
It is WAR
Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers
“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable
Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you
“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!”
“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!”
You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!”
Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him
He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide
Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force
Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”
“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”
Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?”
You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”
His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more
You bit your lip
“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.”
“Bold of you to assume--”
“Just shut up and kiss me again.”
Wish granted ;)
Yoosung
Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you
“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”
She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red
“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”
“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”
Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.
Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung
So when night came, you were ready to go to a party
Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung
“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear.
Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod
You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt.
But... you decided not to say anything.
Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you
When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!”
You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was
and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves
Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol
Cuz he had a LOT of it
In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time
Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!
You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music
You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest
Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back
Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon
“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.”
“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice”
Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung??
You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!”
He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls
Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?!
The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all.
What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong.
You walked over to the resort bar tender
Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?”
“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool.
“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”
“That’s kind of the point.”
He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?”
You nodded, exasperated.
You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace.
“’nother one.”
He obliged, pouring another glass for you.
Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly.
You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form
You laughed, it all seemed to funny
Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers.
Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you.
But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes
You were alone.
Yoosung.
Your mood brightened just by remembering his name
Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room
One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard
Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state
He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools
Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin
“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...”
“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?”
You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him
“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.”
Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying
“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee”
Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.”
Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight.
“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~”
Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.”
“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--”
He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers
He basically ran to your resort room from there
Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face
Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises
Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting
Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me”
Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom
He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy
Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle
“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?”
You giggled back, shaking your head
“Liar.”
��Help me take ‘em off pweaseee”
“No!”
You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling
“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”
“No ‘m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him
He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him
You pouted, “That’s no fun.”
After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan
“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff”
“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”
“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.”
“S-stop..” He said through the door.
“Please?”
Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help.
He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were.
You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me”
“I’m not going to.”
“You said you’d help me!”
“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!”
“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?”
“I didn’t think it through that far.”
You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you.
He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret.
At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet.
It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed.
He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now
and he blamed himself.
He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out
Looking at you again, he sighed.
Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.”
Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.”
Jumin
And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.
You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window
You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin
Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.”
You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)
Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before
Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again.
You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?”
Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.”
“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.
You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!”
Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan.
He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.”
You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!”
His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant”
He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward
He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose
With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground
“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?”
You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?”
Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?”
“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!”
“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”
“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!”
Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!”
“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.
He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.”
“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!”
“What other explanation is there?”
You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.”
“Oh yeah?” he challenged.
“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart.
Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours.
Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat.
After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss
You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you.
He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt.
You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”
Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants.
Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.”
Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore.
Zen
Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.
You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light
He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.”
“I’m ‘babe’ now?”
“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?”
You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling.
“I love you, Zen. So much.”
“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...”
You laughed shyly, “yeah..”
“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.”
You looked up at him, peacefully grinning.
“Hey, let’s get married.”
Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!”
You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.”
Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not.
Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.”
He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?”
Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep.
“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently.
The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare.
....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you.
- 3 months later
In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended.
“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?”
You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.”
He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept
He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash.
“Y/N?!”
He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you.
“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!”
You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”
Zen was having NONE of that
He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time.
“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness
-
you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes.
“How long was I out..?”
“For a few minutes.”
You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER.
All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern.
“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.”
You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes.
Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?”
The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.”
You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!”
The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.”
“There’s still a diagnosis?!”
You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor.
He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.”
Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked
“O-oh, oh my gosh!!”
Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears)
This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS
-
I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right?
#707#zen x reader#jumin han x reader#yoosung fluff#yoosung fanfic#yoosung mystic messenger#mm jumin#jumin x reader#jumin han#han jumin#saeyoung choi#luciel choi#seven zero seven#yoosung x reader#seven x reader#saeyoung x reader#mystic messenger#707 mystic messenger#myseme#mystic messenger 707#mystic messenger zen#mystic messenger headcanon#mystic messenger fanfic
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Duck, Duck, Grief
The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate. She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse. A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it. This one doesn’t sound like Duck. She ignores them both and keeps walking. The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face. Aubrey is grateful for it. Having a body feels like an impossible task right now. Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened-
(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)
-and she wasn’t ready. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-
(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)
“Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
There is a voice above her-
(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)
-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.
“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet. She doesn’t remember falling to her knees. That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-
(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)
She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance. They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop. She does not move.
…
Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse. He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over.
“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful! Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.
“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder. Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.
“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.
Duck scratched his head. “Honestly, Sarah? I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed. “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”
The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries. When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck. She looked as exhausted as he felt.
Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird. If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.” She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister. I expect an explanation.”
He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”
She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.
Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck. He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly. A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them. He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting. He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.
“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck. There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.
Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt. He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.
…
The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets. Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone. Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay. The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.
His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side. He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends. Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo. Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.
When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress. A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.
Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head. Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed. At least Aubrey is okay. And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy. He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards. The man was damn near unkillable. He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance. He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.
“Y’okay, kid?” He asks, “Aubrey?” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.
That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign. The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day. It scared him then and it scares him now.
“Aubrey,” he repeats her name. “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me. I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.” Nothing. She just keeps staring blankly ahead. He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Again, nothing. Shit.
He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!” He snaps. The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!” Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.
Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.
Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked. Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained. Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange. Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away. He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color. He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has. He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned. They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.
“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china. “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…” She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.
“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying. But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.
He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!” Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder. Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.
“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…” She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue. Her shoulders shake with the force of it.
Duck pats her back awkwardly. “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid. I’m sure you did everything you could.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead. He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench. Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken. Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this. Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.
Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice. Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen. Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down. The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question. Duck nods emphatically. Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention. The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction. She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.
The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks. The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.
His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”
Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.
“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.
She exhales softly through her nose. “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.” Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face. There is dried blood under her fingernails.
“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened? What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”
She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”
“No! Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps. “What. The. Hell. Happened.”
“I-it was Ned.” The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey. She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.
Duck stares at her. “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”
She shakes her head. “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this. Mama, uh, can you explain, please?” Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.
Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”
“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles. Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.
Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright. Ned ain't hurt, honey. I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead. Ned’s dead.”
The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.
That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead. Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead? No way. This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke. It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed. It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit. It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead. And he can’t handle that. What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?
“Duck?” Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain. He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”
He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all. But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected. Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards. The least Duck can do is be strong for her. He’s good at being strong. So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later. Aubrey comes first.
He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.” He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?” His voice trembles right at the end. He clenches his jaw.
Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey. “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says. Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier. Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.
She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television. The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it. That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.
“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase. It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em. He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani. And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her. Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt. And tonight, that was Ned. He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late. There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that. “And that’s… that’s the whole story. I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”
Duck says nothing, just nods sharply. Because how do you respond to something like that? What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them? What do you say? What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid? What do you say?
As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.
#i wrote this right after listening to ep 28 of amnesty and it's been sitting in my docs ever since so i figured i'd post it here#enjoy the angst y'all#ned chicane#duck newton#aubrey little#mama#taz amnesty#taz fic#taz amnesty spoilers#my writing tag#angst#grief#found family#fanfiction#fanfic#baby's first fanfic#writers on tumblr
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FIC: Drifters ch.10 (spicyhoney)
Summary: Red's been going along with all this, but it turns out that he has a thing or three to say to his brother.
Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones
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~~*~~
Edge had always had a plan for his life. Since he was a small child forced to spend his days watching Red beg, barter and steal for their meals and shelter, he’d been determined to help his brother provide for them as soon as he could. To bring them out of the dump and the back alleys to something better, from gutter trash to the Royal Guard.
It hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it, and between the two of them they’d managed to make a home for themselves, a decent one he’d always believed. Until his brother began tinkering with that old machine in the basement, the one that would never do anything until it did, and he discovered there was more outside their own little, dust-filled world. So much more, other Universes that didn’t abide by the rule of kill or be killed, where children might be trapped beneath the mountain but still played safely in the street.
There were times he’d thought about leaving their universe, in the darkest nights when fresh LV was settling heavily into his soul like lead while Edge fought his way back out from its shrouding numbness, struggling to keep his sense of self. He’d never let those longing ideas take hold; despite everything, Underfell was their home, there were people that needed him there, Monsters who depended on him.
He’d abandoned it all for the sake of this one child and if this was the new plan for his life, then he would handle it, as he had everything else, no matter what.
Whatever protests Red and Stretch were offering to that decision were drowned out by Blue’s dismissive, “Don’t be silly, of course you’re staying. Aren’t you?” Then with rising alarm, “You wouldn’t be going back to Underfell with her, would you?”
“No,” Edge said, “Not Underfell.” Again, he kept it to himself that that was no longer possible. In his arms, the baby was slowly settling, her drowsy sockets sinking closed again.
Blue was still nattering on in his relief, lowering his voice in deference to the baby’s whimpers easing back into sleep. “Then of course you’ll be staying with us! Oh, but we’ll need to make some changes around here. There’s only two bedrooms, that isn’t enough. Maybe the garage, yes, yes, the garage!” He clapped his hands together in quiet delight. “We can turn it into an apartment, I’ll put my Human cage somewhere else, yes, that’ll be perfect for you and Edge, Papy!”
Stretch only sat on the sofa, blinking a few times, as if the light was suddenly too bright. He was looking at Edge and the baby, but turned to his brother at that, “uh, say what?”
“An apartment for you and Edge, do keep up,” Blue said primly. He raised both brow bones in obvious implication, “Unless you’re about to tell me that the two of you weren’t going to share your room?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Edge repeated patiently before Stretch could answer him. “This is only a temporary arrangement. As soon as I find some employment, we’ll work on getting our own place, you don’t need to rearrange your entire home.”
Red sat up, sputtering, “okay, back it up there, bro, what, now?”
“Why would you do that?” Blue said, perplexed. He tilted his head to the side, reminiscent of the Dogs back in Underfell when Edge gave them an order they didn’t quite understand. “We can’t help take care of the baby if you move out.”
“You don’t need to help care for her,” Edge said, “she’s my responsibility.”
“Nonsense, it takes two to tango as they say and there are four of us!”
“Not if the child is created in a lab!” Edge snapped. The baby stirred and he lowered his voice, “This isn’t about birth control, this is about taking her away from someone who intended to use her as a lab experiment. I chose to take her, she’s my responsibility, and I will do my duty. The three of us won’t be staying here any longer than necessary.”
The silence hung in the air, nearly tangible.
After a moment, Stretch rolled to his feet, slouching across the living room to a side table where he started rummaging through the drawer. He came out with a pack of cigarettes, already stripping off the cellophane as he said, “you heard the man, she’s not ours, she’s his. he’s got a handle on it, let him take care of everything. i’m sure he’s got it all figured out.”
He didn’t look at Edge, walking straight past him in his disheveled shorts and mismatched sweatshirt to the rug where he shoved his feet into a pair of slippers before jerking open the front door, cold air pouring in. He went out, closed the door carefully behind him.
Red groaned loudly, “you really are a dumb fucker, aren’t you, bro.”
Arguing was familiar to Edge, but not while holding a sleeping infant. His kept his voice low and even, did not think of Stretch out in the cold lighting what would surely be the first of several cigarettes. “He doesn’t need to feel responsible. He didn’t choose this.”
The only person responsible was Edge, for coming here to begin with. There hadn’t been much in the way of choice on that, all he could do now was try not to compound the damages by leaving as soon as possible, before his debts grew past his ability to pay them.
Red only glared at him. simmering fury in his crimson eye lights, “yeah? me either, but i’m still fucking here, so i think i get a vote.”
“You’re different.”
“about three feet of different, yeah.”
“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it!” Edge snapped, “You’re my brother.”
“that i am. but i ain’t the only other person with a stake.” Red sounded frustrated and they glared at each other, Blue standing to the side, hands clasped in front of him as he looked nervously between them.
Red did not look away from Edge as he said slowly, "blue. why'nt you go upstairs to your room with your gear, get unpacked, settle in."
Blue didn’t move. He stood uncertainly, his feet shuffling as if they wished to obey.
"blue," Red said, terribly soft and the undertone was pure Underfell, "i ain't askin'.
He nodded then, snatching up his bag and heading up the stairs. His bedroom door closed as softly as the front door had and they were alone.
"okay, just you and me, bro. first things first,” Red held out his arms, “hand me the kid.”
“She’s my responsibility,” Edge repeated doggedly. “I chose this, you didn’t.”
“yeah?” Red demanded, “you come up with that idea all by your bad self? why the fuck you think i brought you to the lab, sightseein’? she was never not gonna leave with us, you just grabbed her first. you so busy tryin' to call dibs, you're forgettin' i saw her first.” Red never looked away, met Edge’s eye lights unblinkingly as he told him, “i been letting it go on account of you bein' new to all this, but now i’m tellin ya. give her here.”
Edge hesitated a moment longer, then stepped over to the sofa.
It was somewhat disturbing to see how easily Red folded her into his arms, cradling her expertly. She settled in with a contended little sigh, snuggling into the fur lining of his jacket. “there we go, honey.” Red crooned with a gentleness that he had never seen in his brother before.
Red said nothing else, only sat with the baby and Edge stood, waiting impatiently, until his brittle endurance broke. “Well? I’m sure you’re waiting to explain to me how I can’t handle this, so let me stop you before you begin. I can and I will, I’m doing fine so far.”
“oh, yeah, you’re doin’ swell,” Red snorted. “wanna take a good look at yourself in the mirror right now?”
Edge resisted the urge to shrink from that pointed comment, tugging Stretch’s robe tighter around himself. “That’s hardly fair, it was my first night with her!”
“ain’t none of this fair,” Red said agreeably. “‘specially not to her. wasn’t fair to you when i slipped us out of the lab before you could get your own special tattoo and we ended up on the streets.”
“Red—“
“wasn’t fair to me that i had ta do it,” Red went on, relentlessly, “but life ain’t fair, that’s a lesson i never had to teach you. you learned it all on your own.” He sighed heavily and settled deeper into the sofa cushions, drawing up his knees into a sort of cage around the sleeping child. “you know all that shit. so, now you wanna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you?” He jerked his chin towards the stairs, then back towards the front door. “we got her outta there and now you got people throwin' themselves at you to help and you just gotta do it all on your own, dontcha. lemme clue you in to something, little brother, the reason i raised you up on my own is ‘cause there wasn't anyone else to help!"
“I don’t need anyone else to help,” Edge hissed. He crossed his empty arms over his chest, gripping his upper arms in both hands so tightly that his phalanges ached. “I can do this on my own!”
“so, what then? we move out of this place and i move in with ya, but i don't get to help with the little miss?” His crimson eye lights were coolly assessing. “gonna go out there and get a job, right? whose gonna watch her while you're raking in the g?”
"I…” Edge faltered, "I'll pay someone. A babysitter."
"someone. someone you can trust more'n us?"
“No!” His soul clenched in his chest, already rejecting his own idea. Who could he possibly trust with her, even in this world, who could look at the symbols on her ribs and not rouse curiosity, perhaps take their questions to another scientist at another lab who might well have read the old paperwork left behind and— "Of course not, that isn't what I meant. I’ll handle it!"
“oh, i getcha. you’re the only you're allowed to take care of her.” Red rubbed a thumb gently down her rounded cheek and her mouth moved briefly as if readying itself for a bottle within her dreams. So small, so fragile in the cradle of his brother’s arms. “lemme ask you somethin' bro, are any of the rest of us allowed to love her, or are you callin' all of that, too?"
He’d never heard his brother so much as mention the word love before and something already tight in his soul clenched harder, painfully. "I can't ask you all to help me with this!"
"bro.” Red looked up at him and his expression was deeply pained and conflicted, none of his emotions hidden behind his normal veneer of sneering indifference. “i know it's hard for you, but you gotta pay attention. you ain't asking for help, heh, really not, not even close. we're offerin'. so let us offer.”
It must be his exhaustion, Edge thought, that made his emotions rise so close to the surface. Lingering heavily in his chest, rising into his throat and refusing to be swallowed away no matter how hard he tried. He was tired, so tired, and not simply from being kept up throughout the night. There was so much he’d lost in only a day’s time, lost and gained, and what he felt most strongly in this moment was a complicated grief.
Red nodded as if he could read every unspoken sentiment on his face. He patted the sofa next to him, scooting to the side, and Edge lurched over to sit next to him on legs that felt detached and shaky, sinking into the cushions. The moment he was settled, Red leaned over to lay the sleeping baby in his arms and he swore she was already putting on tangible weight since he’d first carried her away. She was already growing and changing, all he could do was try to guide it, to make sure she was cared for properly. That she was loved.
Red shifted up to sit on the back of the sofa, his shoulders against the wall. It put him taller than Edge, for once. “i don’t wanna see you running yourself ragged trying to do everything. been there, done that, ya know?"
“I can’t,” Edge whispered, the words soft and broken. He looked at the baby in his arms, at her peacefully sleeping face. He was so tired. Everything was so clear yesterday and now the course of his life was clouded, the linear line of it veering drunkenly along an unknown road.
“sure you can. am i your brother or not?” Edge nearly flinched from the hand that settled on his skull, caught himself just in time and instead leaned into it. He closed his sockets as his brother gently stroked his coronal sutures, the same way he had so many years ago now, on cold nights when Edge couldn’t sleep, holding him close as he crooned vulgar lullabies. There were no songs this time, only words drenched in unspoken promise, “‘cause little brother, i’m still plannin’ on taking care of you, too.”
Edge couldn’t say anything to that, he only nodded.
“good.” That stroking turned into a gentle rap of knuckles against the top of his skull. “now get your head on straight. go out there and apologize to the honey bun for tryin' to take away his kid just when he was gettin' used to the idea of havin' one.
“Our relationship isn’t like that.” Fuckbuddies was the word Stretch used, and it was not one that implied any form of shared parenthood.
“no?” Red said doubtfully. His chuckle was familiar, his humor tickling along the side of unkind. “then you better make damn well sure he knows it. mebbe you should start by askin’ him how he feels before you go on makin’ up his mind for him.”
Edge didn’t reply, but his brother’s point was brutally accurate. He owed Stretch that much and a great deal more. Now all he needed was to shore up his faltering courage and start paying his debts.
tbc
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Bonds (FatGum x Reader)
Notes: self indulgent trash with a kinda angsty Fatgum mafia au with abo elements and smut. There is heavy violence with kinda dark (but not really) Fatgum who cusses too much and who’s the leader of the mafia. The story gets fluffier and Reader be like: oh well he’s hot, though
Warnings: Triggering elements such as abducting, black markets, dark thoughts, heavy violence, strong language, and mentions of non-con. All characters are over the age of twenty, and the nsfw is fluffy and consensual. Read at your own risk.
…………
You remembered vaguely how you got there. You had a bag over your head, then. Kicking and screaming out your lungs, and to no avail. Your abductors had enough, it seemed, and next thing you knew, you had a cloth shoved into your mouth, and then your world faded to black.
You woke up not too long ago. You were wearing a thin tunic that barely covered your thighs as you sat in a cage within a dark room. Your hands were cuffed together, for whatever reason, you couldn’t tell. The faint smell of omegas in distress such as yourself lingered in the cold and empty room. It was a while before a door had opened, letting light from the other room hit yours. You could tell now that it was a basement, with the stairs and a tiny window.
“So, you’re awake?” A rough voice asked you. You turned your head towards the voice. A beta, you thought as his scent was hardly there. He walked down the stairs, towards you with a nasty smirk.
“Yes.” You answered. It was best to play it safe.
“Good. Let’s get one thing clear, Sweetheart, you’re nobody, now. Your birth certificate, I.D, and anything that ties you to society? Gone.” The beta said all too bluntly moved towards the cage, sitting on a stool in front of it. He looked like your average CEO, dressed in a suit and tie. He stared at you with a cocky expression as fear and agony washed over you.
Everything? You couldn’t help but feel your chest clench with tightness. He grinned at your discomfort, seeming to feed on your distressed pheromones.
“You know what the real kicker is? Your own fuckin’ parents sold you out. Said that you weren’t the alpha they wanted to continue their company’s legacy. Blech. Now that I know that you’re awake, I’ll make sure the boss knows.”
He finally exclaimed as he patted the bars with mock sympathy, and then got up. He walked up the stairs and opened the door, slamming it as he left.
Your own parents? Sure you weren’t on good terms with them, and hell, you had your own life. You had your own job, your own apartment, your pets…the thoughts dropped as sadness washed over you.
You couldn’t help but sniffle as fat tears dropped onto your tunic and hands. Everything was gone. You had nobody, now. You were devastated, hurt, and fully alone. You were still in bit of a shock, so the effects of what was happening didn’t fully hit you, yet, but you knew that you were going to mentally break. You felt robbed because of your biology, and you hated the feeling. Darkness crept up on you.
You’re going to be sold. You were going to be sold, fucked, and bred full of unwanted cubs in a dangerous organization with nobody to turn to.
Light returned to the room as the beta walked down the stairs, holding a tray of food. The smell was delicious, despite it’s origins.
“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. We have had too many vigilantes throwing food, refusing to eat, and being just a stupid mess. I’m going to unlock your handcuffs, but you gotta play nice. Fuck up, and I’ll make you eat this on the floor, got it?” The beta growled. You found yourself nodding. Truthfully, you didn’t care.
Your appetite wasn’t great, but you didn’t want to starve to death. He unlocked the cage, and then your cuffs as he eyed you with the scrutiny of a hawk. Handing you your meal, you took it gingerly as he locked the cage back up.
The chicken and vegetables did look delicious, and despite lacking an appetite, it crawled back to you with the mere smell of the food. You took the fork and ate it with no fuss. You weren’t happy with the world right now, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy what little pleasures were offered to you. This might be the nicest meal that you’ll have in a while, after all.
The beta looked relieved as he watched you.
“That’s it, Sweetheart. It’s a shame, really.” He admitted. Between bites you asked him what happened to your apartment and pets. He gave you a dirty look, but relented.
“All your stuff was burned, for we don’t need any evidence that you had existed. Your pets went to the pound, and all that your landlady and few friends know is that you’re across seas.”
“How?” You asked, finishing your meal rather quickly. The beta chuckled.
“We’re the dark underbelly. The black market. We have ways.”
He unlocked the cage, put the handcuffs on you again, took your finished tray, and then locked the cage again. It was bleak, cold, and a dark future. You didn’t know how or what to feel. It was like a numbness washing over you. Of course you wanted to fight, and be stubborn, and tell the beta to shove off, but you didn’t.
“I can’t waste my breath on you too long. You’re being auctioned off, tomorrow, and when you wake up, more than likely you’ll be getting fucked.” He shrugged as he left. You tried your best to ignore his words. It made you close to hyperventilating, and you knew that wasn’t good. There wasn’t much you could do, really. So you held onto some sort of hope that you’ll be fine within the dark.
Although it wasn’t your nest, your head was feeling dizzy and sleepy. You wondered if they spiked the food. You weren’t surprised. On the bright side, at least it’ll help you sleep.
………..
Gunshots and screams made you jump awake. At first, you were confused by your surroundings, but then it all came flooding back. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. As well, right now, you hoped that you weren’t going to get murdered. It might have been more merciful, you thought darkly. The screams had gotten louder, and you pressed yourself against the cage in fear.
The sounds of gunshots were muffled from where you were sitting, but you could tell that they were getting closer. Your tail was twitching like crazy as your ears were pinned back. Your eyes dilated with fear and you felt your heartbeat quickened. Was this it? Were you about to die? With nobody knowing or caring about your whereabouts? You could smell the faint scent of blood from the other room, wondering vaguely on how many people were murdered. It didn’t suit well with you, but all you could do was wait.
The door slowly clicked open, letting light flood the room. A moment passed before a dark southern accent filled the room.
“So that’s where they’ve been hidin’ you.” A man’s voice. You shuddered, not looking up. You wanted to, though. You wanted to know who had that sandalwood scent mixed in with vanilla and of course, the fresh smell of blood.
The footsteps gotten louder as they neared your cage. Honestly, you could feel as if your heartbeat was going to jump out of your throat. Shiny black shoes were right in front of you through the bars. You could see blood splattered across them as well as the pants.
“You gonna look up, Princess?” The voice joked. Fearing for your life, you did that.
The handsome tiger alpha was smirking at you with cockiness and mirth shown within his amber eyes, hair disheveled and blood was splattered onto his face, as well.
“So, we’ve gotten to ya before they could sell you, huh?” He squatted down, making sure that you could see him better.
“I guess.” Was all you could say. It sucked on how fearful you were. Of course your pheromones were screaming that you were in distress at this point. He frowned, as he calculated you.
“So more than likely they got rid of your social identity, huh? Let me guess, somebody close to you sold you off?” He pondered. You didn’t know how to respond to that, but you nodded. He sighed aloud, as if contemplating something. He looked at you thoroughly and you tried to keep your shame to yourself. You didn’t like it.
“So, what are your plans when you get outta here?” He questioned, and you did a double-take. You? Leave? Where would you go? You had no clothes, no job, no identity, and no family to support you.
“I don’t know.” You admitted. It was strange. Here you were, talking to a blood-soaked stranger who was eyeing you with a little bit of sympathy and annoyance, not at you, but probably with the situation.
“Did you kill all of them?” You then asked suddenly. His eyes were trained on yours with a serious expression when he answered.
“Yeah. Do you have a problem with it? A stranger blowin’ off heads, covering their own floors with blood and guts? Hearing their screams as they watch their Family get torn to bits by bullets?” He leered. If he was trying to scare you, it only half worked. To be honest, you’re still in shock from everything, and now you were cold and hungry and were at loss on what you were suppose to do.
“No. I don’t know what to really feel, to be honest.” You answered truthfully. For a moment he seemed to lack expression as if thinking about something when he looked at you. Then sighed for the umpteenth time, rather loudly.
“Fuck. Fine.” He reached into his pocket and for a second, you thought that it was his gun. No, it was the keys to your cage and handcuffs.
“You’re in too deep, you know that? Not only being a witness to several murders, but getting involved with the mafia and black market. No identity, no background, nothing. Getting back to society is gonna be a pain in the ass for you. So, I’ll offer you this once, and only once,” He gave you a stern look full of importance, causing your eyes to lock onto his.
He unlocked your cage, and then your handcuffs. You rubbed your wrists as he eyed the redness to them with a look of disdain.
“unlike today, we rarely kill. The organization that we’ve busted has been targeting young women and omegas, and sellin’ them to whoever. This is my city, and I don’t like that. What I also don’t like, is innocent bystanders or witnesses, and you fit the bills. Now, I’m not going to threaten you, but it’s obvious that you have nothing and nobody. So you should just join me and my family.” He said all too bluntly.
You knew that he had a point, but to just join the mafia? It wasn’t a rational decision, or your first choice, but the both of you knew that you couldn’t really afford to be rational.
“Alright.” You found yourself saying, because honestly, what else could you do? He smiled and patted your cheek.
“Your duties might be bland, but we need extra hands in dealing with paperwork and things like that. It wouldn’t hurt for you to work for your clothes and food. As for your living arrangements, we’ll figure it out. I won’t force ya to do anything you wouldn’t like, but just so you know,” His voice darkened a little, and you blanched a little at it.
“I know that this is way off topic, and probably improper, but I’ll say it anyway. You’re going to be on suppressants. We can’t have some of my boys losing their shit in order to pop a knot.” He finished. You felt blood rush to your cheeks with his forward statement, but hastily agreed. You didn’t want to go into heat, soon. Not after the trauma you were still going through.
He lead you out of the basement, and suddenly the smell of blood hit you fully, this time. You didn’t want to look, but you knew that there were bodies laying across the floor with bullet wounds through their heads. Everything instantly made you feel sick to your stomach. Was this the life you’ll be joining? Granted he said that killing didn’t happen, often, but could you believe that?
“Don’t look so sullen. This will no longer concern you, Omega.” He said, noticing your scent and body language of distress.
“It’s a lot to take in.” You admitted. It was as if it was too much, but you were somehow in the twilight zone of shock. You wanted to come to your senses and feel everything at once. You wanted to cry and scream with anguish at how life was rough and unfair. However, you knew that it was futile. Your new life is in the mafia now.
“I know.” For once, his voice was almost soft, and it caught you off guard. The two of you walked past the bodies, overstepping the blood and other parts that were probably guts, as another scent had hit you.
It was another alpha. You kept looking at your savior, but he didn’t seem too bothered. It was probably his men. Sure enough, there was a red-haired man with dog appendages in his early twenties standing at the door. He grinned when he seen the two of you. Standing beside him must have been a beta, sullenly looking around with slight disgust as his sharp canine ears twitched.
“Eijirou, Tamaki. This is your newest co-worker. Omega, these are my top two men. Now, let’s get out of here.” Your newest boss acknowledged the two guarding the door.
“She looks cold.” Tamaki, the shorter man with jet black hair observed quietly.
“Taishiro, you’re so mean! You can’t leave a lady like that, it’s unmanly!” Eijirou, the younger man with wild red hair explained. Taishiro, huh? He huffed as his tail twitched with annoyance.
“Mind your businesses, brats. We’ll get her suited up and comfortable in no time.” He griped. As the four of you were walking outside towards getaway car, you jumped when you felt his jacket being draped over you.
“Shoulda said somethin’ if you were cold.” He grunted.
“My mind was occupied.” You shrugged, replaying the awful events that lead you here. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he probably understood.
The car ride wasn’t really silent. Eijirou was a hyper alpha, and he kept asking you weird questions, such as your name, date of birth, and what your favorite color was. Taishiro and Tamaki mainly stayed silent as Tamaki drove, but they were listening in to your voice.
“How did you know that somebody close to me sold me out?” You bravely asked your new boss. He sniffed a little uncomfortably, but indulged you.
“It’s always been like that. Families who didn’t want an omega, fake friends who are jealous, stuff like that. I use to work for the police force, and you see the same stuff. If we’re askin’ personal questions, Princess, I gotta few.” He then looked at you. You nodded, giving him permission.
“Who in their right fuckin’ minds sold you? I can see that your dynamic is rare. Snow leopard?” He asked bluntly.
“You’re correct. My family didn’t want an omega. They already have my brother, an alpha, and so they saw me as a burden. I had my own job and place, so it wasn’t like they could marry me off.” You admitted. It felt good to get this off of your chest, and you were a little surprised on how much the weight had lifted.
“Bastards. So, you had a job and shit? You, minding your own business, got fuckin’ kidnapped and almost sold because they had issues?” His tone lowered with anger, and to be honest, you couldn’t help but find it nice that somebody seemed to care about you once.
“I started working a job behind their backs at the age of sixteen, moved out legally by seventeen, and at the age of eighteen, I was finally free. They wanted to marry me off at an early age, but couldn’t dig their claws into me. For the next seven years, I’ve been almost no contact with them and just worked hard. I went through college and got a high paying job. I just graduated, recently, unlike my brother.” You rambled on, but he was listening.
“They must’ve heard about your graduation, and then snapped.” He said, putting the pieces together. His tail was swishing with anger, now, and you felt bad that you made him upset for you.
“Don’t worry about it, Boss. They can’t touch me anymore, right?” You asked, and he nodded.
“I’ll skin them alive, Omega, if they try to touch a hair on your head.” He growled out, and you felt inner warmth for the first time in a while envelop you. Although kind of scary, your boss had been nothing but nice and protective over you. The early horrors of you being scared and alone in the cage, as well as the blood still laid there, but they dwindled a little.
“Taishiro, where is she gonna live? She needs clothes, you know?” Eijirou piped up.
“As well as food. She must be starving, knowing how they treat their omegas.” Tamaki added silently.
Taishiro seemed to realize his error, and turned towards you again. “Omega, do you wanna stay with me? I have extra rooms and security gates from strangers, also that way I can keep a closer eye on ya so your parents can’t touch you. If that makes you uncomfortable, our headquarters has a lobby with a couch. It won’t be as much privacy, but if you don’t wanna share a house with an alpha, that’s understandable.” He finished.
You noticed that Eijirou and Tamaki looked a little shocked, but as well as relieved.
“Boss’s house is the safest. No doubt he’ll be looking in on information about your parents, and so you’ll be able to breathe freely in no time.” Tamaki added in shyly. Eijirou nodded.
“It’s so manly!” He choked up and to your small amusement, Taishiro rolled his eyes a bit playfully.
“Alright. I’ll move in with you.” You admitted. Truthfully, you didn’t find yourself minding. If he wanted to take advantage of you, he would have already, and plus, this was the first light at the end of the tunnel you’ve seen in a while. Taishiro smiled.
“Hey, Tamaki, do you mind dropping us off at my residence? She can take a shower there and wear my clothes. Later today we’ll go shopping for new ones, eh?” He grinned at you, and Tamaki sighed.
“Already you’re treating her like your omega.” He murmured so lowly, but you heard it.
“Eh? I couldn’t hear you.” Taishiro’s ear twitched at the mostly silent man.
“Nothing. We’ll be there soon, Boss.” He declared.
On the way, you couldn’t help but think that he was treating you as such. It was scary on how much you didn’t mind. You wanted to tell yourself that this was the leader of the mafia, for crying out loud. You wanted to argue with yourself, but you knew that you had nothing really to argue against, except of course that he was your gunslinger boss, but that’s about it. The car pulled up to a very nice looking place before it stopped. It was a decent sized house with security gates and cameras, and already you could tell that it was safe.
“We’re here. Thanks, boys. We’ll regroup later today. Eijirou, could you bring Midoriya with us later when we shop for clothes? You know I don’t know much about omega shit.” Taishiro grumbled out. Eijirou’s tail wagged.
“Sure! I’m sure my babe will be thrilled to have another omega friend! Just call us when you need us, Tai-chan!” He waved. Taishiro laughed a little.
“Cheeky brat. Anyways, let’s get you cleaned up and into some clothes. Don’t want the neighborhood starin’ at a blood-soaked man and a half-naked woman.” He was grinning, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. You didn’t hesitate to agree, although you couldn’t help but feel shame and a little embarrassed by your lack of dress. He unlocked the gates with a password, unlocked his front door, and the both of you were now inside his house.
It was decently large, furnished, clean, and smelled strongly like his scent. You already liked being here, it was very comforting.
“Here, follow me. I’ll get you some of my clothes, and then you can take a shower.” He offered, and you did. Of course the only spare clothes he had was his, but you didn’t mind. They were better than the tunic. He left you to your own devices as you locked the door, shedding off your tunic and stepping into the tub.
Tears of relief had hit you when you felt the warm spray hit your cold skin. You weren’t being sold or used against your will. You had a caring boss and your future co-workers were friendly and welcoming. True, it was the mafia, but those men deserved it, didn’t they? A life was precious, yes, but they were willing to throw yours under the bus. Then your boss saved you. He didn’t even hesitate to take care of you. You continued on with your shower, trying not to take too long.
The only shampoo and body wash was of course his, but you really wanted to wash away the smell of blood and the icky surroundings that surrounded the supposedly abandoned house that you were caged in. You didn’t mind smelling like your savior, truth be told. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you remembered what Tamaki had said.
Was he treating you like his omega? Sure you were going to get new clothes, but right now, you were going to smell like him and wear his clothes, that he was more than willing to provide. You just got out of emotional trauma, and already you were feeling this way? No. You decided that you must have been going crazy from all the stress.
He left you an over-sized shirt with socks and loose jeans with a belt, and you slipped them on after drying yourself and brushing your hair. You hoped that it wouldn’t be too awkward. The house, although large, wasn’t too hard to navigate. Especially when the smell of bacon and eggs hit you from the kitchen. He was standing there, in a white tank top, a towel over his wet hair, and shorts, attending to the skillet.
It took a lot of willpower to not admire him too much. Without the suit, you could see his body more clearly; he had a bulky build, his muscles could have been mistaken for fat, and you approved. Sensing your presence, he turned around and the two of you stared at each other.
“Oh, so the pretty lil’ thing’s outta the shower? Here, you must be starvin’.” He broke the silence as he handed you a plate. The smiley face made with bacon and eggs did it. You couldn’t help but snort at the silly gesture as you felt a warm, joyous feeling, and his attention immediately snapped to your smiling face.
“You look good smilin’, Sweetheart.” As soon as he admitted it, he changed the subject with a cough.
“Anyways, after breakfast, I’ll show you to your room and you can get some proper rest. Eijirou and his mate, Izuku will be here, later and we’ll get you some new clothes, alright?” You agreed.
After finishing your meal, he led you to an almost empty bedroom that only had a twin bed and a spare dresser. You didn’t care, you liked it and didn’t hesitate to let the softness of the bed envelop you. Your muscles were still a little sore from sleeping on the cold hard ground, and sleep just came to you easily.
Your eyes fluttered as something poked your nose. Another poke. When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by a green haired stranger. His dwarf rabbit ears flicked with amusement.
“Hello, my name is Izuku! About time you awoke! You and I are going shopping!” He piped up. Eijirou’s mate, you recalled.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You answered truthfully, and he beamed.
“Thank you! I know you don’t have much clothes, less any shoes, so Eiji and I piled up clothes that I think you’d like, so shopping wouldn’t take too long and Tai-chan can rest easy.” Izuku giggled. He was an adorable little omega who like Eijirou, was a chatterbox, you decided. You thanked him sincerely, and it was so cute that his little tail wagged with joy.
In your old life, you didn’t have any omega friends, since they were so rare and you were so occupied with work, so it was nice, for once. As you told him this, he squealed and hugged you.
……………..
To be honest, you were use to working as a secretary, so you had knowledge of blazers, skirts, stockings, and even dress suits. After sorting out the clothes Izuku had brought, you neatly folded them in the dresser. It didn’t take that long for everybody to get into the car and drive to the nearest mall.
You told Taishiro that you wanted the clothes to come out of your future paychecks, in to which he looked a little surprised, but agreed to your conditions. In your mind, he had done so much already, and although you couldn’t pay it back right now, you were going to at least try to earn your things.
Izuku would giggle and point at such cute clothing, and you’d let him be distracted as you focused on office wear. Taishiro and Eijirou were following from behind, calculating on each omega’s interest. Your eyes lingered on a comfortable looking dark orange hoodie for a little too, long, and then berated yourself mentally for getting distracted.
Although you were aiming for work clothes, Izuku would try to get you to look at the dresses and cute omega wear, and you couldn’t hep but blush in embarrassment, stating that you had home clothes, already thanks to him and he rolled his eyes. “You’d look soooo cute with that, though!” He huffed, but let you do your thing.
While Izuku wasn’t with you while you were looking at prices, he’d give Taishiro and Eijirou a small piece of his mind.
“You know she needs underwear.” Or “You know that she’d look so cute in that.”. He knew that he was being a little over-bearing, but you barely had anything, for Kami’s sake.
When the time to shop was over, you realized that the alphas had already bought their stuff, and Taishiro paid your stuff with his card, and handed you the receipt so that you can pay him back later. You were forever grateful, and you weren’t short on words telling your boss and new friends that. You did feel a little inferior, letting your boss pay for your stuff, and so it made you strengthen your resolve to pay him back and work extra hard.
When you got home, he dumped some bags into your bedroom, and your heart had leapt with such warmth as you spotted the hoodie that you had wanted, earlier. Maybe you didn’t mind if he someday became your alpha, a voice inside you admitted, and you tried to brush it off.
………………………………………..
A year has passed, since then. True to his word, you were on suppressants, and true to your words and resolve, you worked very hard. Your relationship had strengthened with everybody, especially “Tai-chan”, your beloved boss. You began to learn more things about him, how he actually hated killing, and how he saw the injustice of the prison and jail systems, so he decided to fix things, himself. He wanted to quit, however, but he didn’t know what the right time to do so.
He did so much for you, you couldn’t believe it. Although you weren’t really into society, anymore, he did help you recover your hard-earned degree, and after a long talk, you wanted to work someplace else, but you still wanted to live with him. He was like a safety net to you and your omega instincts were tickled with delight.
Nothing helped your growing feelings for him, that was for sure. You also took scent blockers, so he couldn’t smell your scent of approval, or at late nights when he was at work, your arousal. You wanted him, and you swore that to your chagrin, everybody but him knew it. Izuku would wink, Eijirou would give you finger guns, and Tamaki would softly say that you should admit your feelings, or somebody else would snatch him up when he was out of earshot.
You didn’t really have your heats, anymore, but you found yourself wanting to spend one with him, and that thought made you decide that you were done waiting. You were a little shy, but you weren’t getting any younger, and you knew that suppressants weren’t really that good for you. When he was just sitting on the couch, you sat beside him. It was your chance.
“I want to talk to you.” You said with such seriousness, he turned off the television, and looked at you, giving you his full attention.
“What is it, Sweetheart?” He asked. You bit your lip, glancing at his piercing attentive gaze as you tried to find the right words.
“If you wanna move out, you can.” His blunt voice echoed through the air. The hurt tone in his voice made your attention snap to him fully. Although he looked tough, you could see that his eyebrows were furrowed, and it looked as if he was trying to keep the look of hurt under control.
“That’s not it, at all, Taishiro.” You answered truthfully, calling out his name. It seemed to work, for his tail relaxed as he then looked at you with a concerned, and dare you say it, hopeful look.
“I love you.” You felt it spill out so naturally, that you didn’t even blanch with confusion or regret. A weight that you haven’t seemed to notice, was lifted off of your shoulders as he then gave you a look of pure shock.
“What?”
“I love you.” You repeated unabashed. Taking in his silence, you let yourself continue.
“Love is a very powerful emotion, but I had never felt it, before. When you took me in, and took care of me, and helped me take care of myself without wanting anything in return, my feelings were already in too deep. I understand if this makes you uncomfortable, or if you never want to reciprocate them-”
You were cut off with surprise as strong arms enveloped you, pushing your back onto the couch, and his hot mouth was onto yours in an instant. He was holding and kissing you, you realized. Your heart melted into a fiery warmth, and joy spread all over you. Words weren’t really spoken, as he licked your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, granting him entrance as he delved his tongue in.
New. It was your first kiss, but you couldn’t have felt more hotter or eager as he licked the roof of your mouth, your molars, sucked on your tongue, and you tried your best as you moaned into it, threading your fingers through his hair as he bit your bottom lip in retaliation. He pulled away, the both of you panting as he gazed into your glossy eyes.
“Oh, you didn’t know how long I wanted to do that, Sweetheart.” He growled out as he pecked you on the nose. You couldn’t help but giggle a little.
“How long?” You asked.
“When I seen your fine ass half-naked. It wasn’t the best situation, but you’re a very beautiful omega, and I’m a selfish man. I did those things to genuinely help you, though. Yet, I couldn’t help my instincts screaming at me to take care of ya. I was forever battling myself, Darlin’, because I didn’t want your feelings to be akin Stockholme syndrome, although you have free reign to do what you want. Since you’ve decided to live with me willingly, and confessed your feelings,” His eyes glistened dangerously.
“now that I know your feelings for me are genuine, and not some Stockholme syndrome bullshit, I’m going to mark you up prettily. If you don’t want to bear my mark, say something, now, or else I’m going to make you mine.” He growled out, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit of slick leak out.
“I love you, genuinely. I didn’t know where I stood, seeing that you were my boss and the leader of the mafia. If you’ll have me as your mate, I’ll gladly bear your mark.” You answered truthfully, breaking the dominant atmosphere as his eyes softened and he relaxed a little.
“I love you, too. So damned much, that it hurts. You don’t make it easy on me, bein’ sweet enough to eat, and sticking by me despite who I am and what I go through. There’s nobody else for me but you, Darlin.” He admitted, kissing you a lot more softly, this time as your heart thundered within you chest and you caressed his cheek as you returned it.
The two of you broke away as the glint returned in his eyes again.
“You wanna christian our bedroom?”
……………...(Smut!)
Your back was against the massive pillows, stark naked with your legs opened and waiting as he eyed you with such a hunger, you were already leaking slick from your entrance. He made you so comfortable, your inner omega crooned as he, naked as you, decided that he had enough waiting.
You kept from yelping as his hot mouth was on you in an instant. Your fingers turned white as they gripped the bed-sheets in a death grip as he suckled on your clit. It was new, and you would have been writhing, if it weren’t for his grip holding you down. You whined as you felt his chuckle reverberate your entrance.
“We’ll take this slow, alright, Sweetheart? I just wanna eat you up~” He purred, ears flicking at your thighs and you jumped a little. He fat tongue licked a strip upwards at your sopping entrance, and decided that he really liked the taste, because he kept tasting it, licking up your juices as he sometimes swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud, giving it a harsh suck as you whimpered and kept writhing. The sheer noises of the act itself wasn’t helping, either, nor was his loud slurping sounds. It made you feel things that you didn’t know that you were capable of feeling.
“I want to taste you, -ah! Too!” You admitted aloud. He groaned as he pulled away. Your juices were on his chin, and he was looking at you with such a feral look, you wondered if he was close to a rut.
“As you wish.” Was all he said before he maneuvered your bodies to which you were on top of him, facing his dick and you were all but sitting on his face. His hands gripped your legs as he began licking you again, and you wanted to do the same.
It was big and thick, swollen with red and it looked as if it hurt and you felt a little sorry for it. Your mouth watered at the possibility of tasting it, and you wasted no time in your exploration. He groaned when you touched it, wrapping your hands around it gently as you leaned down and tentatively gave an experiential lick. It tasted salty and a little bitter, but at the same time, there was a flavor of sweetness to it. You liked this taste, you decided. It twitched a little, but that didn’t deter you.
All your life you have been ignoring this, and now you wanted it. He was going to be your mate, and you couldn’t wait to be properly fucked. But first. You kept giving it experiential licks, eventually wrapping your mouth around the tip, and sucked. He jumped a little and cursed, and your own entrance was aching, but you wanted to taste more of him.
You felt one of his hands release the grip on one of your thighs, and felt him entering a thick digit into you as you tried to take more of him within your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan around him as he was pushing his fingers within you, stretching you slowly as the lewd sounds echoed within your shared bedroom. You had never been more turned on more than your entire life, and all of this experience was going to be burnt into your brain. You almost choked on him when he was four fingers deep in you, still licking at your slick and clit and your brain was getting fuzzy. Your jaw started to hurt, and he seemed to understand.
“It’s okay, Sweetheart. Just enjoy yourself, alright? We’ll get to the main event, soon.” He said softly as he kissed the back of your thigh tenderly, and your heart melted a little at the warmth. Soon was sooner than you expected, for the next thing you knew, you were straddling his lap, feeling the heat of his dick against the folds of your labia, and you just wanted to sit on it.
He was kissing you again, more slowly and gently, and you felt yourself purring as you gripped onto him. He broke away, grinning but with more softness than his usual cockiness.
“Look at you. So fucking pretty. All mine. I’m going to fuck you on my lap, yeah? When you come, there better be a mark on me, okay, Sweetheart? I’ll do the same.” You agreed as he grinned, gripping your hips, and leading your aching core to his dick. He stopped dead when you stilled a little. You couldn’t help it, though.
“Somethin’ the matter, Dearest?” He asked softly. You shook your head, but then sighed and relented.
“I’ve...never…” You let the sentence drop and his eyes widened a little with surprise, and then a heated look overcame his features.
“So, that was your first time tastin’ a dick, huh?” He pondered as he rubbed himself against your clit. You whimpered and nodded.
“That...this is a little irrelevant, but that was my first kiss, as well.” You stammered and he stilled. He held you close as he then nuzzled your neck, scenting you.
“You need to speak up about these things, alright? I could have just rammed my dick into you and wouldn’t know better.” He murmured, and then pulled away.
“You still want this?” He asked. You nodded. He kissed you, and then gripped your waist with one hand, and his member with the other. He watched your expression closely as he guided himself within you. You felt a pinch, but the way he began to fill you, began to feel like a delicious friction that you had been wanting for a long time. Your walls squeezed around him, and you could feel his hot member pulsing inside you as it stretched you.
He stilled when he finally bottomed out, you sitting on his dick and balls and you opened your eyes to see him watching you intently. You offered a sweet smile and kissed him in reassurance.
“It doesn’t hurt. The stretch is new, but you’re so good to me.” You admitted, and he groaned as he returned your affections.
“I’m going to take really good care of you, Sweetheart. You might not walk for a week, though.” He grinned, and you smiled as you rolled your hips, experiencing the new friction. It was delicious, and you wanted the feeling to last.
He pulled you tight against him as he slowly began to roll his hips gently, kissing your face and squeezing your breasts as he looked at you with a such a soft look, it made you keen with approval. He was your gentle alpha. You knew that he was fighting his dominant side, and he was holding himself back. You wanted him to go a little faster, and tried to move your hips to increase the pace, but he held you still, making you whine as he chuckled.
“Sorry, Baby, but I wanna savor you like Takoyaki.” He purred and you keened with approval and arousal. You were panting and sighing as your climax was nearing, and he was just eating it up.
“You want pups?” He asked randomly, hand gripping your ass. You couldn’t say much, but you let out a whine of approval. His breathing was getting labored as he rutted a little faster into you.
“’Cause I’ll give up everything to see you swollen and fat with my pups. Fuck the mafia and fuck getting-ah! Shot. I’ve made up my mind. We’re gonna settle down, and we’re gonna look after our kids. Sound good?” He panted out and you nodded.
“Yes!” You hiccuped and he groaned as he felt your walls tighten as you were getting nearer.
“You’re gonna keep your job, of course, and I’ll find somethin’. White picket fence and everything for us, Baby.” He couldn’t help but speed up, his dick was hitting your cervix and balls against your ass with fervor. He tilted his head, pulling you towards his scent gland, waiting to be bit. Your walls tightened around him as your teeth sank into him as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You pulsed around him and he faltered and cursed as he returned your favor, biting you.
It was official, the both of you belonged to one another, now, and you couldn’t have been happier. Yet, you were so dizzy and tired, your world faded to black.
When you came to, he was looking at you with such a gentle expression as he wiped you down with a clean washcloth.
“I love you, Sweetheart. You did so well for me. You doin’ alright?” You nodded.
“I love you too, Taishiro.” You admitted softly, and he kissed you slowly for the umpteenth time.
“I meant it, you know. We can go somewhere else, have a bunch of kids, a white picket fence, and hell, maybe a dog. Only if you want it.” He offered rather shyly. Your hand caressed his cheek, making him look at you as you smiled.
“Of course.”
………………….
End. Geezus. Will I stop with the kinks and smut? Probably not. This fic took longer bc of my new job, but I loved writing it. Purely for self indulgence, but everybody is free to like or reblog it <3
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Take Me To Church
Dabi x Religious Reader
Just a fic that I threw up, partly to distract me from finishing my Hawks comic and my Pro-Hero Bakugo fic and partly because I get off like the thought of Dabi interacting with someone who is religious? Kinda?
Honestly, Reader’s religion doesn’t play a huge role in this fic. I mean, it kinda does in the beginning, but it fizzles out midway. I don’t even think the title is fitting, but it hits just right for me lol. Anyways, this is more like a “Dabi x Reader who happens to be religious” kinda fic.
Also, the nickname Dabi comes up for Reader is partly a reference to Yagami Yato lol.
~ Masterlist ~
~ My Hero Academia Masterlist ~
An easygoing hum of an upbeat hymn left your lips as you went around the small chapel, fixing the flowers for the service tomorrow and generally making sure that everything was in its proper place.
It was late, nearing 11 pm, and you were the only one left. However, you knew that by the grace of God, no harm would come to you, even in this odd time of heroes and villains.
*THUD*
You gasped at the sudden sound, your head turning towards the source of the noise.
Your brow furrowed. “No one should be here right now,” you uttered as you walked slowly to where the sound was made.
The source of the sound seemed to have come from the women’s restroom, which made sense as you left the window open to air out the small restroom. Some of the older women of the congregation loved to spray themselves with overbearingly powerful floral perfume.
“Ugh, it reeks in here…” You heard a distinctively husky male voice groan out, followed by a pained hiss.
“Hello?” You called out cautiously from behind the door. “Are you okay?”
You cringed slightly as you heard the person curse.
“I… I’m coming in!” You called out as you opened the door.
“Fuck, stay away!”
The warning was pointedly ignored by you as you looked inside the restroom.
Slouched against the wall was a familiar-looking man with charcoal black hair, blue eyes, and what looked to be skin grafts stapled onto his skin. A murderous glint shone brightly in his eyes as his left hand erupted in beautiful blue flames, though his right hand was stained in deep red blood.
“Get the fuck outta here,” the man growled.
You blinked, a little taken aback by how ethereally beautiful this man looked with the blue flames highlighting his features. “You’re hurt,” you stated obviously.
The black-haired man glared. “No shit I’m-”
The man was interrupted by painful coughs.
Worry ran through you as you hurried to kneel next to the man, mindful of the ball of flame he was directing toward you.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?!”
“Helping you,” you said matter-of-factly. You gently pried the man’s hand away from his stomach. A deep red splotch was staining his white shirt, making it near-impossible for you to access the damage. “I’m not a certified nurse or anything, but my church often helps in first-aid if ever there’s an attack by a villain,” you explained as you began to help the man up.
The black-haired man pulled away from you. “I didn’t say anything about wanting your help, bitch.”
You bristled at the insult, having never been called such a thing before. A smirk landed on the man’s face as he saw your hesitation. Nevertheless, you brushed the insult aside to wrap his right arm around your shoulders. A hiss left the man as he was pulled into standing up.
“That wasn’t very gentle of you,” he gritted out, putting out the flame from his left hand.
“I don’t think you would’ve budged so easily if I tried to be gentle with you, Dabi,” you retorted softly.
Dabi chuckled dryly. “So, you know who I am, after all…”
You nodded your head. “You looked familiar, but the blue flame gave you away,” you responded. “I can’t have you stay in the chapel overnight. I don’t think the brethren will be pleased to find a villain resting inside the house of God. I’ll have to bring you to my apartment.”
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to bring strange men over, church mousey? Especially if they’re, I don’t know, wanted criminals?” Dabi asked condescendingly.
“My parents taught me to help people in need, no matter their background,” you replied evenly as you tucked Dabi into the passenger seat of your car. Thankfully, it was late enough that not many people were walking around. “I’ll have to lock up the building first before I take us home…” You glanced over at the black-haired man. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”
Dabi huffed out a laugh. “I’m not gonna die so easily, church mousey. Been hurt a lot worse than this.”
You frowned at the man’s words but left to quickly lock up the building.
By the time you were able to get back to your apartment and haul Dabi onto your couch, the black-haired man was breathing laboriously. You quickly went around your apartment to gather everything you needed to tend to the man.
“Despite the fact that you basically have a villain in your apartment, you’re pretty calm.”
“The person I see before me isn’t a villain. Just someone injured,” you replied softly, helping Dabi out of his jacket and shirt.
Dabi scoffed. “How noble of you.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead concentrated on treating the black-haired man.
Throughout the whole process, Dabi’s burning blue eyes never once strayed from you. You weren’t sure if he was trying to intimidate you or make sure you weren’t going to pull anything funny, or whatever. All you knew was that you could feel the unabashed intensity of his stare, and it was making you feel uncomfortable.
Now, it wasn’t that you weren’t used to people staring at you—as one of the choir members in your church, you were used to people staring absentmindedly at you—it was that the person in question staring at you was beautiful.
“What kind of Quirk was used on you?” You asked curiously as you inspected Dabi’s wound after cleaning away most of the dried blood.
Dabi shrugged. “Some kind of Quirk where the user could turn their fingers into claws.”
“They’re going to need some stitches. Some of these cuts look pretty deep…”
“Do what you gotta do, church mousey. I’m all yours for the night.”
You blushed at the suggestiveness of the man’s words, earning yourself a deep chuckle from him, but you continued on regardless.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb the pain.”
“Sweetheart, I have staples holding my skin together,” Dabi deadpanned. “Pricks from a needle are the least of my worries.”
You quickly averted your eyes, realizing your mistake. “R-right. Sorry. I’ll just… get to it then…”
The rest of the time was spent in silence as you sutured the cuts closed, taking extra care to be gentle. Once you tied the knot for the last suture, you rubbed some ointment across the stitches, dabbed away any excess ointment, and carefully wrapped gauze around Dabi’s midsection. Satisfied with your work, you began to clean up.
“Once I finish up here, I’ll bring you over to my bed. It should be a lot more comfortable there than my couch,” you mused absentmindedly. “You also wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping on dried blood.”
��First you bring a villain home, then you rid said villain of his clothes, and now you want him to sleep in your bed? I gotta say, I didn’t expect all that from a church mousey like you,” Dabi teased.
A strangled distressed noise left your lips. “I-it would behoove you to know that I’ll be the one sleeping in the living room!” You nearly shouted as you dumped your tools into your first-aid kit.
“Sorry, forgot you types practice chastity. You probably never even-”
“I’m not listening to any more of this!” You said as you heaved Dabi up, ignoring his pained grunt.
“I could’ve gotten myself up, church mousey,” Dabi gritted.
“Then learn to keep your mouth shut,” you snapped as you let go of him. “My bedroom is that way. If you need the bathroom, it’s over there,” you pointed around vaguely.
Dabi said nothing as he simply headed to the bathroom, presumably to clean up.
You sighed as you padded over to your bedroom to grab sleeping clothes to change into once Dabi was finished using the bathroom.
Your hands began to tremble.
Though the black-haired man had commented upon it earlier, the reality of the situation only now hit you.
You were hiding a criminal away in your home—a hauntingly beautiful criminal.
It was no stretch to think that Dabi might kill you once you outlived your usefulness to him. After all, you had every right to call the police or the Hero Association on him since he was a wanted villain, not that you would anyways.
You found him hurt, not committing a crime.
A gentle kick to your leg shook you out of your thoughts. “You gonna keep spacing out on me, church mousey?”
You looked up at Dabi, a bit surprised, though you noticed that he was cleaner than before.
Dabi looked away from you. “I’m gonna crash on your bed now.”
You nodded. “Alright. I’ll get ready for bed then.” You looked over the black-haired man quickly, remembering that he was still shirtless. “Sorry, I don’t have any extra clothes for you to sleep in…”
Dabi waved you off as he laid himself on your bed, not bothering to get under the covers. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Right. I’ll be sleeping in the living room then. I have a futon lying around somewhere… If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Dabi said nothing as you left your room, closing the door behind you.
Before you knew it, it was morning.
You guessed that you were more tired than you remember as it seemed that you slept through your alarms. You groaned as you sat up in your futon.
Something suddenly struck inside you.
Quickly throwing off the blankets, you hurried to your room.
Nothing.
No sign of the beautiful man.
The only sign of him ever being here were the bloodstains on your couch.
You sighed, melancholy filling you.
Without even noticing, the black-haired man with burning blue eyes left an impression on you, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to recover from it.
#dabi x reader#todoroki toya x reader#todoroki touya x reader#toya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki x reader#dabi x you#todoroki toya x you#todoroki touya x you#toya todoroki x you#touya todoroki x you#mha dabi#bnha dabi#todoroki toya#todoroki touya#toya todoroki#touya todoroki
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Choices - Dean Ending - 1
New to Choices? Start Here
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!
Triggers: Serious injury, main character implied death, pain, violence, blood, angst, fatal injury, heartbreak, gore (series levels blood, hurt and fatal injuries).
Choice: [You chose to call for help]
Y/N = Your Name
---
You needed Sam. The big guy always knew what to do. He would be able to tell you what needed to happen for Dean to get out of this hellish nightmare alive. Your best friend would know how to save his brother. They’d had each other's backs for way longer than you’d known them. Sam would know.
“Sam! Dean’s… Please just come!” Your voice broke over the heart wrenching scream as you struggled to keep up the pressure on Dean’s wound. The feel of warm hot blood seeping between your fingers only adding to your pain. You couldn’t slow it. Damn it. You had to slow the bleeding. Dean had to live.
Yet, as your mind barely registered the heavy steps of Sam running across the gravel, you could see your little battle was in vain. Dean’s face was pale and his eyes unfocused where they tried to meet yours. As weak calloused fingers brushed against your cheek you had to bite back the sob that threatened to spill from your lips.
He was just so fucking cold.
Your hunter’s eyes were half hidden behind his eyelids as he forced a weak smile. Even now, when his life was slowly leaving him to spill out across dusty wooden floors, Dean Winchester was trying to protect you. Worried more about your own heart-breaking pain and trying to carry the weight of your panicked tears as shaky, cold fingers wiped weakly at them. Always the shield. Always trying to make the world smile.
“I can’t lose you Dean. I can lose fucking anything else. But not you. Please…” You couldn’t bite back the next anguished sob as you weakly pushed your cheek into his cold palm. Pleading with an unforgiving world to save him. To finally pay the hunter back for everything he’d sacrificed and pull him through this. Praying to an unresponsive God that never did anything but observe and cause more hurt.
“God please. Please, please, please…”
Your desperate pleading was interrupted by a guttural sob from above you, wretched from the lips of Sam as he dropped to his knees next to you and gently cradled Dean’s head. The hunter looked much younger and lost as his mouth opened and closed over unspoken and immeasurable heartbreak. Lost in the big scary and unforgiving world without his big brother to nudge him by the shoulder and show him the way.
“We need to save him Sam,” You sobbed, letting your shaky bloodied palms move from Dean’s wound so Sam’s much larger ones could take over. Since calling for Cas wasn’t an option that meant you were left to your own devices. And without Dean leading the way you were just as lost as Sam.
“Get the car… Hurry,” Sam’s voice was just a broken whisper, his hazel eyes not leaving his brother’s paling face as he focused on staunching the blood flow. But you didn’t need anything more as you jumped up on unsteady legs. It hurt to leave Dean there, wounded and on the edge of a darkness you couldn’t pull him back out of. But you had to. You needed to get him to the hospital. And fast.
—
The air whipped against your tear-stained face and stung in blurry eyes as you shot out of the door Sam had just entered. Gaining speed as you let your agony and anger at an unfair world propel you forward. Every slap of boots against gravel bringing with it another shot of searing pain as it echoed in your head as snapshots of the bloody scene you were running away from.
Dean’s pale face, contrasting against the dark five o’clock shadow dusting his strained jaw.
Green unfocused blurry eyes squeezing shut at another stab of explosive pain.
Dean’s ragged, groaned breath as he tried to force words past paling lips.
Weak fingers wiping at your tears. Trembling hands fisting the floor in a weak attempt to withstand the onslaught of pain. The quickly weakening pulse under your fingertips. His bloodied and torn t-shirt under your splayed palm…
With every step a new painfully sharp image reminded you why you had to keep running, why you had to hurry. Dean was dying. You had to make it in time, you had to.
Sliding across the last bit of gravel, you didn’t even notice the branches cutting into your bare arms as you threw your body past the brambles and trees. Your body numb to external pain from the sheer amount of internal fucking agony that was coursing through your veins. As the Impala finally came into view you let out a frustrated sob, tearing your t-shirt away from the branch that was keeping you from Dean’s salvation as you stumbled into the small clearing where his baby was parked.
Your fingers were numb and shaking as you wrestled with the driver’s side door. Failing on your first attempt as your body refused to work the way your panicked mind wanted it to. A broken scream leaving your trembling lips in frustration as you tore at the handle, finally flinging the door open and sliding into the driver seat.
Letting your trembling fingers find the key he’d left in the ignition, your get-the-hell-outta-dodge backup plan worked in your favour. Since your shaking fingers wouldn’t have been able to get the key into the keyhole no matter how hard you tried.
Twisting the key, you held your breath for the split second it took the Impala to roar into life. A relieved sob leaving you as Dean’s baby rushed to life in order to save her owner. Wrenching the steering wheel around you let the pedal kiss metal as you drove like a bat out of hell. Your whole body screaming with the desperate need to be back by his side.
To save the life of the foolishly brave hunter and the heart you’d given him oh so long ago.
—
You were out of the car before it had even fully slid to a stop in front of the abandoned farmhouse. Sam had already moved onto the balcony outside. Kneeling on rotting wood with his brother’s bleeding body in his arms as blurry hazel eyes looked up at you. For a second you feared the worst, seeing the heartbreak in the younger Winchester’s eyes. Maybe you were already too late? Maybe you’d already lost him?
But as Dean’s head moved slightly to look in your direction, your fears took a back seat as you rushed over to help Sam get his older brother up and into the car. The younger hunter was already carefully lifting his brother back up and had placed Dean’s arm around his shoulder. Hurrying up the steps, you reached the Dean’s other side just in time to stop the two of them from sliding down onto the rickety boards of the back porch again just as Dean’s legs buckled.
Placing a gentle arm around his waist, careful to not touch the gash on his side, you moved towards the Impala. Moving painfully slowly where your body just wanted to rush him to safety. But as the hunter, your injured soldier, groaned in pain with every step, you forced yourself to move at a speed that wouldn’t aggravate his injury.
Using your free hand to open the back door of the Impala you stepped away from Dean’s freezing cold side to let Sam get him into the backseat. Your nails digging into the palms of your hands as you watched him grit his teeth. Trying to suppress his agonized cries.
Biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut, he let Sam move him onto the leather seats. Swallowing down the moans of pain that tried to leave him, all that left the hunter was a high-pitched whimper as the hurt lodged in his throat.
Rushing back to his side, you left it up to Sam to drive as you slipped into the back. Pushing your bag out of the way so you could crouch on the floor behind the driver’s seat. You needed to be with him. To keep pressure on the wound and wipe at the tears staining his eyes a much duller green.
“Stay awake for me Dean,” You sobbed as the car roared to life and Sam rushed you away from the farmhouse. Watching as Dean struggled to keep his eyes from shutting again. You needed to keep him awake, to keep him focused on you.
You were so close… So goddamned close to getting him out of this in more or less one piece, or at least alive. But as you watched the hunter’s lips tremble weakly over another pained gasp for air, you knew he didn’t have long.
“Hey, keep your eyes on me Winchester, you can’t sleep now,” You tried again, a bloodied hand going up to his cheek and gently turning his head so his eyes were focused on you instead of the roof of the Impala.
“We’re gonna get through this ok?” Your words weren’t registering with the hunter that watched you through dull green eyes. Squeezing shut over new explosions of pain whenever the Impala hit a particularly rocky part of the dirt road.
Moving your hand from his cheek you found his weak fist by his side, grabbing at air. Giving it a quick squeeze, you offered him a teary smile that didn’t fully reach your eyes as you felt him respond with a weak imitation of the gesture.
“You just need to stay awake for a little while longer, ok? You got this, you’re the strongest man I know,” You let your eyes glance away from him to watch the road signs flying past. You were nearly there. Just a bit longer and Dean would be fine. But…
Damn it.
He was so weak. His eyes kept closing, no matter how much the ingrained strength in the hunter fought the weightless, painless pull of oblivion.
“I’m sorry,” Your eyes found Dean’s again as he choked the words out through a ragged breath. His eyes slightly clearer and filled with worried guilt and hurt. Your strong, selfless hunter. Even now… Even when he should be focusing on getting better, on himself, he looked more pained at the hurt he was causing Sam and you than the cut to his side.
“No, no, no… Shhh. You don’t need to apologise. You just gotta stay with us, get better. That’s all,” Your words were shaky and wet with tears as you kept one palm hard against his side and held onto his hand with the other as if it was the lifeline that tied him to the real world, to you. Afraid that if you let go he’d float out of your reach. Go somewhere you couldn’t follow him.
Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but only a weak moan left him. The small reassuring smile that he’d been trying to give you falling away around another grimace of pain as his eyes shut.
For five whole agonising seconds, you feared you’d never see that shock of green again. Never have the springtime that was Dean Winchester warm your freezing body again. Yet, just as you were about to call out to him, to beg him to stay awake, his eyes fluttered back open. Hidden behind thick lashes and half-lidded in exhaustion.
“Stay with me ok?” Your words were barely a whisper as you allowed yourself a small, sad relieved smile. He was a fighter. And the hospital was so close.
“I’m sorry (Y/N),” Dean’s voice sounded broken and defeated as he forced his eyes to stay open. Barely connecting with your own and filling with tired defeat as his eyelids fluttered closed. And stayed closed.
“No, don’t you apologise. Don’t you dare close your eyes on me now Dean!” You cried out as the seconds dragged on painfully without any sign of the hunter fighting to open them again. Your hand squeezed around his as you increased your pressure on the wound with the other. Pretending you couldn’t notice how the blood flow had slowed. Like the last grains of sand leaving a shattered hourglass.
“Please… I am begging you. Just open your eyes,” Your words were a weak, broken sob as you let your head fall to rest against his unresponsive shoulder, forcing your fingers to tighten around his as his hand loosened its grip on yours. You were right there. And yet he ended up being your shield.
“Hey, Dean. Please… I can’t… You have to be fine,” Your words soaked into the hunter’s t-shirt along with your tears. But he didn’t answer you. Only the small, ragged breaths leaving his pale lips told you that he was still holding on. His body was still fighting though his mind had given up the battle to hide in his subconscious.
“I still haven’t told you…” You stopped yourself, taking a shaky breath as you held onto his cold, limp hand. Finding his weakening pulse and hoping the strong soldier could just hold on for a little while longer. No, you couldn’t say it. Not like this, not when you feared your words would be as final as a goodbye.
Closing your eyes, you wept as your heart shattered along with his slowly fading pulse. Praying you’d still make it in time. The small town was coming into view now. You were so close.
Holding onto that small light at the end of an agonisingly dark tunnel you clutched at limp fingers and pushed against the lethal injury. Hoping that what waited at the end of your mad rush down the quiet streets wasn’t another hunter’s funeral.
One with two victims – as your heart would turn to ash right alongside him.
---
You reached the end - You got Ending 1: Dean: A Race Against Time - Bad Ending
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Note that choices are named so it may spoil the experience.
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Please tell me which ending you got in a message, comment, ask or through a reblog. This took a lot of time to make, and I want to hear from you guys, and see if you enjoyed it. That way I’ll know if I should make more as well as know which parts you enjoyed/where I can improve them.
I already have some ideas for some other ones; an undercover office based one that’s fluff vs. smut… Plus another hunt based one with TFW. But I won’t start them if it doesn’t seem like there’s any demand for them.
You can also tell me which ending you got by clicking here to answer my poll.
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#spn choose your own adventure#Dean Winchester#choose your own ending#choose your own path#choose your own adventure#dean winchester supernatural#deanwinchester#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#supernatural dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#spn#main character death#MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH#tw: violence#tw: death#tw: dean death#tw: blood#spn angst#supernatural angst#dean winchester angst#spn dark#dean angst#spn no happy ending#blood#dean winchester death#deanxreader#supernatural dean
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Free As I’ll Ever Be (Shameless- Gallavich) (One)
Welcome to the story (and my newest obsession)! A fix it fic for 6x01-7x11 ft. our faves reconciling through letters and phone calls, a prison break and a dash for the border that ends way better than 7x11 did.
Obligatory generic TW for canon typical angst and swearing, violence and depression, but also there is lots heart clutching fluff and sweetness and everything we love about Gallavich reunions and happily ever afters.
STORY MASTERLIST HERE
Enjoy my first attempt at writing these two.
*********************
“Svetlana paid me to come.”
The words scorched down Mickey’s throat and twisted in his stomach like acid, but he’d only managed to look away for a second, only a split second to hide that pain and school his features before his eyes went right back to Ian’s face.
Fuckin’ glutton for punishment, is what Mickey was. He’d sat there and stared at Ian, told him he looked good, told him about the tattoo, told him “I’ve been thinking about you” and even asked if Ian had thought about him, asked if Ian would wait for him-- fuck, he’d practically begged Ian to lie and say he’d wait.
And Ian had lied.
“Yeah Mick, I’ll wait.”
Mickey wished like hell he could take comfort in the lie, wished like hell he’d just kept his mouth shut and not pushed Ian for answers the redhead wasn’t willing to give, and more than that, Mickey wished like hell he’d never fallen for some long legged, ginger haired, green eyed, innocent looking, devil smirking mother fucking--
“Settle down.” The inmate in orange that stopped Mickey from punching a wall knew good and well who the Milkovich family was, who Terry had been and who Mickey was well on his way to becoming, which meant he knew good and well how much danger he was in trying to stop Mickey from doing anything.
But he stopped Mickey anyway, the hand at Mickey’s shoulder not exactly kind but not quite condemning either and in a moment of near hysterics, Mickey was almost happy to see a familiar face.
But then--
“The fuck you want?” Mickey jerked away from the touch a second too late, a quick glance at the guards the only thing that kept him from shoving the other prisoner up against the wall and threatening something--something violent.
God he wanted to do something violent. “Get away from me.”
“I know it ain’t easy to see your girl and kid on the other side of the glass.” Fuck, this guy couldn’t take a hint could he? “But if you can manage to not be a Milkovich for two damn minutes and keep your nose clean, it won’t be too long before you see them again.”
“My girl and my kid.” Mickey dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and shook his head. “Manage not to be a Milkovich? The fuck you talkin’ about, my girl and my--”
“Settle down.” the guy said again, and Mickey’s fist clenched with the need to break the asshole’s nose. “Get some pen and paper, write your girl a letter, get some of those feelings out. Prison’s got supplies on the library cart, yeah?”
“What are you, a fuckin’ counselor?” Mickey looked the guy over with a sneer of disgust. “Tellin’ me to write letters and shit, who th’hell’s got time for that? What are you doin?”
“I’m tryna get outta here on good behavior and having a Milkovich as my cell mate is gonna fuck that up.” Anything friendly dropped from the inmate’s voice. “So get your shit together and don’t make any fuckin’ scenes, alright? I’m not dealing with lock downs and shit cos Mickey fuckin’ Milkovich is rampaging.”
“Rampaging.” Mickey poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth and sniffed, pursed his lips and nodded. “You think so?”
“I’m just sayin--”
The guy wasn’t saying anything when Mickey cocked back a fist and put every bit of the hurt and anger left over from Ian into shattering the asshole’s nose.
“How’s that for good behavior?!” Mickey called as the guards dragged him away, shouting over the noise of the other man’s screams. “How’s that for a goddamn rampage, you piece of shit? You wanna write a letter about that, you mother fuckin’ piece of--”
Solitary shut him off from the prison with the clang of a heavy door and Mickey ignored the cot in the corner in favor of slumping on the cold ground, sprawling his legs out and thumping his head back against the wall.
Svetlana paid me to come.
“Fuck you, Gallagher.” Mickey’s voice was raw, hoarse and no matter how tightly he closed his eyes, he couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face. “F--fuck you.”
*************
*************
The letter came a week later and Fiona handed it to Ian over dinner, faux cheerful and carefully nonchalant as she said, “Mail, Ian. Looks like a letter.”
“Thanks.”
Ian hated how Fiona looked at him now, all too wide eyes and practiced, consolatory smile. There’d been a time when he couldn’t tell his sister was faking, a time when Ian had honestly believed everything would be okay because Fiona assured the family everything would be okay with that damn fake smile and all her talk of pulling together and making it through and how family was always the most important thing and that they would figure it out.
There’d been a time when Ian couldn’t tell his sister was faking and a time when he’d believed everything would be okay but that time was long past.
Now all he could see were the worry lines at the corner of Fiona’s smile, the stress in her eyes and the not quite hidden fear beneath all her words, because she said everything would be okay but Ian knew she wondered every morning if today was the day Ian officially lost his mind and became another Monica.
“You gonna read it?”
Fiona was nosy these days too. Not that she hadn’t been nosy before, fuck she’d been nosy before but now she was nosy because she was scared and Ian hated that his illness diagnosis issues had driven her to that point.
“Uh yeah.” Ian tried for a smile, at least a little reassurance so she’d leave him alone. “Yeah. Just-- just after dinner.”
“Great!” Ian thought idly that Fiona’s face would crack if she tried to smile any harder. “That’s great. Dinner and then meds and then your letter, right?”
“Dinner and then--” he clenched his jaw. “--then meds and then my letter. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Great.” Fiona said again and Ian nodded.
...great.
Dinner soon dissolved into a fight between Fiona and Debbie just like it’d done every night since Debbie had announced she was pregnant. Carl was wearing braids or--or corn rows or something in his hair, swaggering around the house and barely recognizable anymore and the moment Fiona and Debbie started screaming at each other, Carl was up from the table and out the door to escape the noise.
Lip was-- where was Lip? Fucking his professor again? Dressed up like a boy toy at some fancy event?
If Ian wouldn’t have been so numb from his pills, he would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Lip hadn’t approved of the job at the Fairy Tale or Ian’s older sugar daddies, but the lifestyle was just fine for Lip since he had a sugar mama?
Fuckin’ hell.
“Come on, Liam.”
Everyone always seemed to forget Liam, the Gallagher brand of crazy just a little too busy for a kid too young to take care of himself, a kid too young to realize what they had was absolute shit.
Liam watched it all with wide eyes and quiet words and somehow stayed innocent, and a sense of responsibility to keep Liam innocent might be the only thing Ian felt anymore, so he scooped the baby up-- shit, Liam wasn’t a baby anymore, he’d be ready for Kindergarten next year, right? Right?-- and carried him up the stairs to their room.
“We don’t need to listen to the women scream, do we?” Ian tried another smile for the kid and Liam rewarded him with a big grin. “I’ll get you some headphones and you can watch a movie on the tablet, okay?”
“Okay!” Liam chirped and Ian’s heart twisted a little in his chest.
“Geez, it’s alright for the rest of us to be fucked, but you deserve something better don’t you?” he pressed a kiss to the top of Liam’s head and set him down in bed, opening the tablet to a kids movie and handing it over. “There you go, bud. Just um-- just take it easy, alright?”
“Thanks, Ian.” Liam settled right in to his movie, propped up on pillows with a stuffed animal clutched tight in his arms and Ian’s heart did another one of those painful little twists.
Innocent.
The letter felt light, couldn’t be more than a single sheet and Ian frowned when he saw his name and address printed in straight, neat lines, then his frown deepened when he saw the prison return address stamped in the left hand corner.
...what?
--Fuck you Gallagher.
Ian hadn’t realized his hands were shaking, hadn’t realized he’d been afraid the note was from the warden telling him something terrible had happened until he read the first words in Mickey’s barely legible scrawl.
--Fuck you Gallagher. Had to pay a guard to get me this fuckin paper and I dunno why, shouldn’t be writin ya anyway.
The paper was crumpled, punctured in some places where Mickey had pressed too hard and the pen had gone right through it.
-- How much did Svetlana pay you to come see me? How much did it take? I’m in jail for YOU, you son of a bitch, couldn’t let that half sister cunt call the MP’s and get away with it, did that for fuckin’ YOU and you gotta be paid to come see me?
Lines were scribbled, crossed through and x-ed out and Ian clutched the letter so tight the edges tore in his fingers as he read Mickey’s anger.
--Now I got this dumb ass tattoo, couldn’t even spell your name right, fuckin’ stupid name is what it is, what has a Gallagher ever done that meant fuckin’ anything except fuck over each other and anyone else who got close?
--Gonna cut it outta my heart
The ink ran there, had gotten wet and then smeared dry and Ian’s entire world rocked when he realized Mickey had cried writing this all out.
Mickey Milkovich had cried and that-- that just didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem possible.
--Cut you right outta my soul
-- You’re under my skin and I hate it
--I hate you.
That sentence was bolded, the letters indented because Mickey had traced them over and over, over and over and over again until they were thick and black and awful, glaring out from the page and branding themselves onto Ian’s eyes.
-- Fuck, I don’t hate you
--I love you
-- I love you and I love your crazy and you could do anything to me and I’d still fuckin’ go to jail for you.
--I’d still kill that bitch for you.
--I’d still sit on the other side of that goddamn glass and watch you lie about waiting.
--and that makes me hate myself.
The last line was hurried, fading, sloppy and rushed and trailing off at the end like Mickey hadn’t meant to even write it. The bottom half of the sheet was crumpled and folded and Ian knew-- he knew-- Mickey had started to throw the letter away, then for some reason changed his mind and sent it anyway.
And that makes me hate myself.
Ian hated apologizing, he hated how being bipolar made him feel like he had to apologize for even existing, for potentially being like Monica, for putting his family and friends through his bullshit.
He hated apologizing, but as he folded the letter back up and put it away under his pillow, Ian knew there was at least one apology he had to make, even if he didn’t know how to say it, even if what he said wasn't enough, even if he was so fuzzy these days he couldn’t trust his emotions or his heart enough to know he meant anything he said..
And it took a month, but Ian said it.
It took a month, but he got his medicine balanced enough to pick up a pen and address a letter to the prison without having a panic attack.
It took a month, but Ian wrote it down.
It took a solid month but one day mail call came around and Mickey opened red rimmed eyes and scrubbed over messy facial hair to glare at the guard who called his name.
“The fuck you want?” he snapped, and the guard simply dropped a letter on his table and kept right on moving.
Mickey tore at the envelope without checking to see who it was from. He didn’t give a shit anyway, it was probably someone coming after the house to finally foreclose on it and this was a notice to evacuate which made zero fuckin’ sense cos he was in prison and didn’t live in that shit hole anymore. Maybe something from INS about his whore wife or a letter from the worthless public defender who hadn’t said a goddamn word during his joke of a trial or maybe--
--I’m sorry.
Two words, written in bright red marker and taking up half the damn page, and Mickey’s heart skittered to a stop.
And in tiny letters near the bottom, shaky and spindly and reading like a whisper into Mickey’s ear--
-- My biggest fear used to be that you’d never want to kiss me.
-- I miss how easy those days were.
-- please write me back
“Get me some paper.” Mickey said aloud to no one in particular, and the inmate to his left sent him a quizzical look.
“What th’fuck you say?”
“I said get me some goddamn paper!” Any other time, Mickey would have shouted but this time his voice was almost too soft, his eyes a little wet as he stared down at the too few words in Ian’s perfect handwriting. “I got a letter to write. Need some fuckin’ paper.”
***************
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He Who Desires (3)
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Words: 2533
Warnings: mention of violence. some graphic description of blood? slight flirting. an annoyed Bucky
A/N: The next part will definitely be the last part. I hope yall enjoyed this little extra mini series as much as I did writing it. I’m trying to get back to the other mini series I have so I’m, again, just getting out all the shitty writing so I could reserve the good writing for the other fics/ideas.
Previous Part | Next Part
Slowly, your eyes managed to flutter open enough to look at your surroundings, your mind already attempting to process the last thing you remembered before you blacked out.
Club. Bucky. Ryan.
Fucking Ryan.
“Oh good you’re awake.” You heard someone speak from behind you, heavy steps making their way around until the man himself stood in front of you. Before you could ask anything, a heavy palm sounded across your cheek and you felt pain shoot through your neck from how hard your head fell.
“Tsk tsk tsk, not a word out of you. Wait till the boss herself hears who we have. It’ll be Christmas soon babe, you just gotta wait here.” Ryan massaged the palm of his hand before walking out of the room, leaving you cold and confused with two guards stationed at the door.
Meanwhile, Bucky was already on his way to the warehouse, refusing to wait until Steve and Natasha came to him. Sending them the GPS signal, he raced through the dark freeway up the mountain. If only he hadn’t looked away for that one second. He looked down for the hundredth time and tried to think of anything but them torturing you, most likely because of a stupid mistake he committed.
Your mind ran a million miles a minute, trying to figure out where you and Bucky went wrong. Surely you didn’t make a mistake and there was no way in hell Bucky did either. Suddenly, the metal doors opened and in walked Ryan along with another woman behind him.
“I didn’t believe it when they told me. You were always the best of us, never one to make a mistake, never one to miss a detail, not one to be easily distracted. Then again, I guess you can get distracted after all, considering you’re in this mess because of him. If only he kept his hands to himself, this little baby wouldn’t have been visible.” You shivered when the cool edge of the knife touched your shoulder and your blood began to boil.
“Should’ve known you were behind this.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you should’ve. I thought you’d figured it out by now but this little piggy got dumber with time.” You screamed and threw your head back when you felt the knife dig into your shoulder where your brand used to be. You felt her hands pull on your hair until your neck was bent at an ungodly angle.
“This could’ve been yours as well. But you just had to go and grow a conscience.”
“At least one of us grew a brain and saw how fucked up they treated us. Come on Delilah, you couldn’t possibly think it was always going to be sunshine and daisies with them did you?” You growled when she dug the knife deeper into your skin, already feeling numbness take over your entire left side.
“Baby, I could have given you sunshine and daisies. But you chose them over me.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I chose myself over you.” You spat at her face and didn’t give her the benefit of knowing how much pain you were in. You were about to say something when you heard the distant sound of gunshots ring through the warehouse, smiling because you already knew who it was.
But the relief was taken away instantly when you felt your shoulder dislocated by two hands, screaming and crying when the pain just kept getting worse. Delilah took hold of your chair and dragged you to the wall, telling her men to stand in front of her before holding a knife to your throat. Tears stained your shirt and you slowly started to lose consciousness, snapping towards the metal doors when you heard a loud thud coming after another.
Within seconds, the doors were slammed across the wall, and you smiled when you saw Bucky furiously step through the pile of dead bodies.
“You better watch your next moves Sergeant or this little piggy is dead meat.”
“You’re going to wish you thought this through sweetheart.” Before Bucky finished that sentence, seven shots broke through the surrounding windows, leaving Bucky, Delilah and yourself the only ones alive.
You could feel her hands shaking and you wished you were awake enough to see what transpired next. As soon as she opened her mouth, Bucky didn’t think twice, throwing his knife your way and watching as it hit Delilah’s throat. He was in front of you within seconds, already trying to get your attention so you didn’t faint.
“Y/N, doll, you with me?” Bucky wiped the hair away from you face to take a better look at you, his heart shattering when he saw how faint you looked
“Y-yeah Buck.”
“This is gonna hurt love but I gotta do it to control the bleeding. On three okay?”
“Ahuhaa.” You whispered and watched as he frantically held your shoulder.
“One-” You bite your shirt when he pushed your shoulder back in its place, crying in pain when he wrapped his belt around your entire upper body to stop the bleeding.
“You said on three you asshole,” you said through sobs and Bucky was torn between laughing at your attempt at humor and watching as you cried while he did nothing to help you. Shifting his weight, he picked you up and apologized again when you asked him to slow down. He kept on talking to you and shook you a bit when you took a longer time to respond. But it was so much harder to stay awake and at some point, before you knew it, your head was falling back, and the last thing you heard were Bucky’s desperate attempts to keep you conscious as he ran to the quinjet.
~~~~~
Shifting around, you brought your hand to your head and groaned when you felt pain shoot through your back to your upper arm, slowly opening your eyes and looking down to see what was happening.
“Hey, hey doll,” you looked up and saw Bucky standing from his chair, leaning down and cupping your cheek. You smiled up at him and leaned into his metal hand, finding comfort in the cool sensation against your skin.
“Hi Buck, w-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse and you noticed the way Bucky frowned at your weak state.
“You passed out on me Y/N, nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack when you did. They uhhh, they took you into surgery. Nothing too dangerous, they just needed to make sure the bones were aligned and back in place before stitching your muscles.” Bucky sat near you, making sure you were comfortable before grabbing your hand and kissing it.
“Doll, I’m sorry but I gotta ask, what happened? D-did they do anything?”
“Besides nearly tearing my shoulder out, no. You came just in time as a matter of fact.” You tried to laugh but Bucky was in no way okay with this.
“Who was she?”
“Oh man, I- before my time at Shield, I was part of this...underground clan for lack of a better word. It wasn’t too different from The Red Room except they had a different approach to training and making sure you were recognized everywhere.” You pointed to your shoulder and saw Bucky’s expression change when he saw the scar.
“Delilah and I were friends, or I thought we were, until I realized she was the reason I was constantly chosen for the rather intense training sessions, like a guinea pig, to illustrate what was asked of us. She loved those sessions, especially when I was the one being tested. She’s capable of so much more Buck and that’s why I cannot be thankful enough for you coming at that time.” Bucky was attentive to everything you said and hated that you went through something like this but he knew he needed to continue asking, unable to bring Steve in to question you.
“Doll, what was this clan called?”
“Buck, I can’t. I just can’t. If you knew what I did, what I was a part of...I- I can’t have you looking away from me.” Tears ran down your cheeks and you looked up when you saw Bucky wiping them away aggressively before making you look at him.
“Baby listen to me. There is nothing on this earth that will make me feel any differently about you. You know what I’ve done and yet you’re here. With me. Just trust me darlin’, please. That’s all I’m asking you to do, trust me.”
“Besa Avlonya, they were originally Romanian but by the time I joined, they were mostly Albanian.” You looked down and saw Bucky sending a quick text to Steve before standing up. Thinking he was leaving, your heart rate elevated and Bucky turned to the EKG machine, immediately sitting down and taking your hand in his.
“I ain’t goin nowhere Y/N alright. I know how much you hate hospitals and I’m gettin’ you outta here. You said you trust me right?” He waited until you nodded before getting up to call the nurse.
Thirty minutes later, you were slowly standing up to get dressed. You were about to raise your arm when Bucky asked you to wait.
“Doll, let me call a nurse to help you out.”
“No. Just no.” You made sure he knew this wasn’t to be discussed but he continued to ask anyway.
“Please babe it’s okay, she’ll just-”
“You do it then.”
Whatever Bucky thought you were going to say, that was definitely not it.
“Y/N I can’t, it’s not-”
“You’ve already seen me in lingerie Barnes you might as well. What’s the difference?” You raised an eyebrow at his obvious distress.
“I ain’t takin’ advantage of you darlin’.”
“You aren’t taking advantage if I don’t mind you seeing me like this.” Your voice didn’t waver when you said it, wanting to make Bucky understand that you meant it. Without exchanging any more words, Bucky slowly walked towards you, asking silently if he could undo your gown and you rolled your eyes at him before turning around.
Gently, you felt his fingers undoing the back of the gown before it dropped to the floor and you felt him move away to grab your shirt. When he turned around, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat because he didn’t expect you to turn around as well. His jaw clenched and you could tell he was annoyed by your obvious comfort with him, finding it very hard to keep his eyes on your face and not on your bare torso.
Speaking of hard, he suddenly felt his jeans getting tighter by the second and he had you to thank for that.
“God fucking damn it Y/N.” Bucky whispered before approaching you and shoving your shirt down your neck before taking his time with your arm. Before you could say anything, Bucky was kneeling down and grabbing your leg to put through your jeans, taking his time so you wouldn’t trip or feel anything in your shoulder. When you were fully dressed, Bucky stood in your space, breathing down on you before grabbing your neck and pulling you to his lips. You wound your arm around him, moaning in annoyance when he pushed away almost immediately.
“As much as I want this, I know how quickly things will escalate with you.” Bucky grabbed your things before opening the door for you.
“Maybe I want things to escalate.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me Y/N.”
“Is that a suggestion or an order Sergeant?” As soon as you called him by his rank, you heard the metal plates shift, smiling to yourself because you could tell he was both angry and turned on.
“Fucking hell.” Bucky whispered before walking ahead, leaving you amused and happy at how things turned out.
By the time you got back to the compound, you had managed to get on Bucky’s last nerve. Between briefing and dinner, Bucky was, in every sense of the word, done with your teasing and he left without bothering to say good night. You had spoken to Steve and Natasha and told them what happened at the warehouse, trying to give them any information that could potentially help them in finding out more about the secret clan. When you finished and saw Bucky had already left, you decided to go to Bucky’s room, hoping he wouldn’t turn you away because you teased him a little too much.
Reluctantly standing at his door, you were about to knock when it suddenly opened, revealing a still-angry Bucky.
“What do you want?” Bucky practically growled at you and you realized you may have taken it a bit far. When he saw you standing there, slightly afraid of opening your mouth, he held the door open to let you in. You walked in and looked around, noticing that this was probably the first time you’ve ever seen his place.
“I- ummm, didn’t mean to. No that’s not what I want to say. I’m...god this is stupid, I shouldn’t have come.” You tried to walk towards the door but found Bucky blocking it, watching as he slowly shut it before approaching you.
“What do you want Y/N?” Bucky asked again, this time more patiently than earlier.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” You avoided looking at him, shaking your head when you watched him walk away to his bedroom. He stopped at the end of the hallway before motioning for you.
“Well, aren’t you comin’ doll?” Bucky smiled when he saw your expression shift to a rather giddy one, watching as you skidded towards him before walking in to his room. Taking your shoes and socks off, you looked around and realized you didn’t change into your pajamas.
“Here, take this. “ Bucky handed you one of his shirts and saw you just look at it.
“J-James, I still can’t wear it but I don’t want to ask you because then you’ll think that I’m bothering you again and that’s the last thing I want to do considering what you’ve done for me in the last twenty-four hours but I honest to god can’t put this on by myself and I just-”
“Jesus Christ you talk too much.” Bucky shook his head before throwing his shirt on the bed, kneeling down to take each leg out of your pants before shutting his eyes and helping you out of your shirt. He quickly put his own shirt through your arms before walking to the other end of the room to shut off the lights.
You sat down and watched his every move, your heart almost skipping a beat when he took his shirt off and laid down on the other side of the mattress.
“I run hot Y/N and I’d rather neither of us wake up sweating.” He heard your little snort and narrowed his eyes at you before whispering something in Russian, motioning for you to lay do so he could cover the two of you.
“Let me know if I hurt you!” Bucky whispered before scooting closer to you and laying his arm across your body.
“Sweet dreams doll.”
“Night James.”
#bucky fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky/reader#bucky barnes/reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky#bucky barnes#sebastian stan#marvel fanfiction#undercover au#bucky undercover au#bucky undercover
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Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Three
Table of Content or Part Forty-Two
Read here on wattpad
Words: 3.6k
Warning(s): Explicit language, Drug abuse, Verbal abuse, Sexual situations
Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swwopyboi @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi @fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror
My head is aching from the pressure put on it after crying for hours on end, balls of tissue shrouding the bed around me.
My mind floods with how I'm going to propose attempting to do one of the two things Nikki despises most, not wanting to ask him about it from the jump, but wanting to fix whatever it is that's lacking in our marriage that has me feeling something for someone who I'm not married to.
I know what's lacking, but I'd rather he hear it from a professional so he can't accuse me of just throwing out bullshit.
Nikki's been home for a few hours now, but he's been avoiding me.
I wonder if he's mad at me for leaving during the tour, or if he hasn't even thought about me and came home, shot up and passed out.
I'm sick with myself, the approach of Nikki's homecoming causing an onslaught of self-chastisement that occurs in the form of random tidbits of Duff and I in my dream, and the possibility that I'm subconsciously getting ready to give up on my marriage, which is the last thing I want to do.
I hear the front door open and shut, along with the sound of Nikki's footsteps growing closer and closer to our bedroom, the rustling of paper bags accompanying him.
I haven't even realized he left the house.
Nerves ball up in my stomach, my hands get sweaty and my breathing starts getting deep.
"Keep your head clear" I hear Andy's voice in my mind and I calm myself down.
The door opens, and the smell of food wafts in the air.
Nikki's carrying fastfood bags, seemingly decently sober.
I sit up, sniffling, and he hands me my drink and a straw before pulling a cheeseburger out of the paper bag, handing it over to me as well as my fries.
"Do you feel any better?" He asks me, calmly, and I furrow my brows a little. "I knew something was up when you weren't waiting by the door. I came in and you were passed out." He explains, his hand pressing to my forehead. "You don't feel like you're running fever."
"I'm not. I just feel like shit." I mumble, taking a sip of my Pepsi.
"I got this while I was out." He adds, opening another paper bag from our pharmacy and I rub my lips together. "The bottle was on the bathroom counter and saw you haven't gotten a refill yet, so..." He shrugs, handing me a pill of my Nardil.
"Thanks." I say, swallowing it down.
He gets his food and knocks my balled up tissues out of the way as he gets into bed next to me.
"What all did you do?" He asks and I look at him, tensing up.
"What?"
"While you've been here? And I've been gone? What all have you done?" He repeats.
"Oh, just went out a few times with the guys. I stayed at home, mostly." I reply.
"I can tell. This place is spotless." He chuckles, eating a few fries.
"Sharise and Skylar stayed with me at night so I wouldn't be by myself." I add and he shakes his head a little.
"We gotta get you outta that, babe." He states and I raise my brows a little in confusion. "Your 'I can't be alone' mentality."
"What about it?"
"It's not really healthy to be that way, don't you think?"
"I think it's normal. Humans weren't made to be by themselves."
"Viv, not being able to be alone is one thing. Not being able to sleep alone is another." He scoffs.
"Vince doesn't ever sleep alone." I point out.
"That's because Vince fucks and then falls asleep with chicks who aren't his wife." Nikki points out.
"Well, I've fallen asleep with dudes who aren't you." I add.
"Robbin, Steven and Vince don't really count." He tells me. "Well, Vince counts a little, but that's because he's a fucking dick."
"Okay, so, who all counts?" I ask him, trying to keep the light tone in my voice.
His answer is blatantly but casually said as if it's common sense, and further causes me to curl into my shell, even more petrified to suggest what I've been planning to suggest to him:
"Anyone you can see yourself fucking." He says.
My body tenses and my appetite is at a loss.
I don't say much of anything else, listening to him go from the topic of the new album, to Tommy's upcoming wedding, and finally, his fuck up.
"Look, Viv," He starts, throwing the wrapper of his finished burger, aside, and I start putting the trash in the empty bags the food came in before setting them on the night stand on my side of the bed before laying back down, facing him. "I know what I did was--"
"--You made a mistake." I cut him short. "And you're still here, so...it's okay."
"No, it's not okay." He argues and I rub my lips together.
"I don't know what else to say about it, Nikki." I reply and he sighs, getting a little frustrated.
"I want you to care, Vivian." He shoots back and I roll on my back, staring up at my reflection on the ceiling, rubbing my forehead to calm the subtle aching beginning to resurface.
"I do care, Nikki, I just don't understand what you want me to do about it. You're the only one who can fix it and you freak out anytime someone mentions you getting help."
"Jesus fuck." He grumbles, kicking his cowboy boot-clad foot into the mattress a little and I sigh out, agitated, as he's about to get up and probably leave.
"Can you just not run off at the slightest argument we have, for once, Nikki?" I beg, my voice cracking as my throat grows thick with tears. "I've had a horrible past couple weeks and I just need you to hold me because you're my husband and that's..." I can't finish, a wave of obnoxious sobs coming out of nowhere.
"Vivian, what is wrong? Huh?" He asks me, genuinely, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me as I lay against his chest.
It's obvious this goes beyond "I don't feel good."
People don't cry uncontrollably when they have a cold.
"I'm just going through something right now." I reply in between uneven breaths.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
I wish I could tell him everything. Every miscarriage, every repressed fear of our future...having mental sex with Duff.
I know the Duff situation shouldn't be a big deal to me, but it is. A very big deal. A very red flag. A very tiny issue that cam and will manifest if not dealt with accordingly.
Dread of the conversation of seeing a marriage counselor with Nikki sneaks into me, adding to my plate of shit I have yet to disclose to him.
"I don't know." I lie to him. "I guess I just really miss you."
"I'm right here, Viv." He chuckles a little.
I want to say, "the old Nikki", but decide against an entirely different argument, before relaxing a little as he runs his fingertips in random patterns at the bottom of my back, and falling asleep.
The thing that pissed Nikki off about my crying spells, which occurred more often the worse his use got, was that he felt emasculated by it.
He couldn't make me feel better because he couldn't get off drugs, and I couldn't even tell him about the weight on my heart from my misfortune with pregnancy and my growing confusion about my feelings for another man.
He knew he was failing me by having an affair, staying on drugs, disregarding our vows, causing me pain, which made him do more drugs to numb the pain of that knowledge, which made him act out even more.
And all I could do was scream at him, cry, flush his stash, vandalize our house, vandalize his cars and bikes, and screw the support's bassist.
But before we resulted to that...
I let out one more muffled moan as he grabs at a fist full of my hair, delivering one more thrust into me before he's finishing on my bare ass and tucking himself back in his pants.
"Nikki, I thought you said we would talk when you got back home." I lowly remind him as I clean myself off, hearing our friends in our living room.
He takes a drink of his Jack on the bathroom counter and shrugs.
"We can talk later, babe." He tells me, for the hundredth time since he's been back home two weeks, now, and I rub my lips together.
"Well, Nikki, we kinda need to talk about as soon as we can." I pull my pants and shirt back on.
"And we will. Just chill out."
"Okay, well, we should've talked about it over a week ago if that were the case. And I've been chilling out but I'm starting to get the idea that you don't care."
"If I didn't care what you had to say, I'd tape your pretty little mouth shut, Viv." He drunkenly spurs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I raise a brow. "Don't look at me like that, babe, I--Okay, look. Your buddies are here." He laughs me off, motioning to door, reminding me Slash, Izzy, Duff, Steven, and even Axl are over here--although I'm sure Axl's only here for the 5'3" platinum blonde playmate that I can hear going back and forth with Steven about how to properly play cards. "Tommy and Vince are coming over, Vince is bringing Sharise and you, her, and Tansy are like the trifecta or something so you can have girl time and catch up. It's gonna be a good time. We'll talk after, alright?" He assures me and I let out a breath.
"Alright." I mumble.
He smirks, giving me a sloppy kiss before I'm heading out to see everybody.
I roll my eyes and head to the kitchen, preparing myself to face Duff, who I haven't seen in three weeks.
We hung out once after I stayed at their place, and that's been it.
I step into the kitchen to see someone in our fridge, grabbing a beer, and when the door shuts I'm face to face with all six feet and four inches of McKagan.
"There you are." He chuckles out, opening the bottle with an opener on his keys and I try to catch my breath and not show signs of panic. "Thought you'd, like, died or something." He adds.
"Oh, no, I just didn't feel good." I explain.
"Yeah, Nikki told me." He replies, taking a sip of his beer. "Do you feel better now?" He asks me and I nod, although it's certain I'm not 'okay' necessarily. "You sure?"
"Yeah." I lie, smiling a little.
It was bullshit, he knew it was bullshit.
"Alright." He doesn't ask again, instead stepping to the kitchen door, purposely shoving at me with his shoulder, nearly knocking me down.
I fire back, shoving at him with mine, and we continue until we're laughing, racing to the living room.
There's an exposed seat beside Tansy and we both eye it before rambunctiously trying to see who gets there first.
We get there simultaneously, sitting down, scrunched into each other as we fight for our footing, more so assing, as we both make an effort to worm the other person off of the couch cushion.
"Move giraffe neck!" I demand in a laugh, struggling to get him out of the way.
"Not a chance, mother mary!" He replies in the same tone, managing to keep his beer from spilling.
He wins, eventually, getting me out of the way.
I'm about to give him a light hearted earful when he's pulling me into his lap.
I make sure to keep my ass on his knees, nowhere near his crotch, and he's not thinking anything of it, obviously, until Axl hears Nikki coming out of our bedroom, and I'm too busy laughing to notice.
Axl's black boot is kicking out and shoving me to the floor before Nikki can see me on Duff, and Duff and I look at the red head, about to go off on him, until we realize what he did.
Nikki's obviously just shot up, wiping the dribble of vomit from his chin with the back of his hand as his eyes play their tricks.
I'm assuming it was a speedball.
I know damn well we aren't having that talk tonight...or ever, possibly.
Never will be a good time.
The doorbell rings, and I'm eager to jump up and see who it is, to avoid going off on Nikki, crossing my fingers that it's hopefully Vince, Sharise, and Tommy.
I open the door, my eyes immediately going to Skylar's round, chubby little face as she wears a baby pink, velvet headband with a giant matching velvet flower attached to it, and a long sleeved, white onesie with baby pink socks on her little feet.
"Hey, guys." I say, stepping aside to let them in.
"'Sup, Viv." Tommy grins out widely, patting my head. His energetic mood is a deep contrast of Vince's.
"Hey." Sharise gives me a side hug and I let Skylar wrap her hand around my finger, looking at me with wide eyes and eye brows that clearly show the expression that she knows me but also doesn't know me.
"Hey, Viv." Vince flatly greets me, giving me a peck on the cheek, irritated, and I can see Sharise is in the same mood.
Great. Another couple that's wanting to kill each other. Nikki and I are in good company.
"Hey, Vince." I reply as he follows Tommy.
Skylar is kicking her feet, smiling and waving her hands, now, and Sharise hands her over to me.
"Hey, pretty girl." I greet her as me and her mom go to the living room with everyone...just in time to see Steven ripping a bong. "Baby!" I call, and all their attention shifts to the kid in my arms and they all groan a little.
Rule of "Baby": no drinking from bottles, smoking cigarettes, doing drugs, being gross with groupies, dropping f-bombs, or being a jackass when a child is around...even if the child isn't even one year yet.
It came after Skylar let out a loud and proud "Fuh!" a month prior, and at first we thought it was a random noise she was making while babbling, until she repeated the word over time until it was pretty obvious she was practicing her pronunciation of the word "fuck," which she had heard from every person in that room.
After that, anytime someone called "baby" the cigarettes were put out, the drugs were put up, the groupies were put on behavioral probation, the alcohol was put into solo cups and the bottles were hidden, and everyone's favorite word was forbidden.
Of course they could go to another room and do anything they wanted, just not with a child in sight.
And they could complain all they wanted, but I think they liked the thought of kids being the only people able to make them clean up their act, even temporarily.
Steven puts his bong away, Duff gathers the liquor bottles and heads to the kitchen to pour it into solo cups, Slash puts out his cigarette and Nikki...
"It's fucking stupid. She's not gonna remember anything of it." Nikki snaps out a couple minutes later as Duff attempts to hand him a cup of Jack, but he refuses, motioning to Skylar once Sharise, Tansy, Steven and I are in the floor with her, and I roll my eyes.
"Babe, it's just for a few minutes. She's gonna go to sleep eventually." I tell him calmly.
"Yeah, Nikki, she usually goes to bed about an hour from now." Sharise adds.
"Sharise, it's his house." Vince takes up for Nikki. "He doesn't come over to our house and dictate what we do and don't do."
"They can still do it, just not around our daughter." Sharise tells him.
"Exactly. There's plenty of other rooms in the house and an entire back yard." I add.
"Why bring your baby to a fucking get together like this, anyway?" Nikki asks her rudely. "You guys don't have a nanny or something?"
"Nikki." I scold him, giving him a "shut up" look.
He ignores me.
"I-I don't want a nanny raising my daughter, Nikki." Sharise states, trying to keep her cool.
"Well, then why didn't you just stay home?" He continues to come after her.
"Dude." Izzy mumbles behind us, obviously getting fed up, and I pray he doesn't say anything to Nikki or Vince to fuel the fire.
Izzy wasn't into ego, and Nikki and Vince had plenty of it...well, Vince and Sikki.
"Because I wanted to see her." I reply before Sharise can. "And the baby."
"Of course you did because stick-in-the mud Sober Sixx really knows how to keep the party going: a fucking baby." Nikki scoffs, cutting his eyes at me.
"I'd rather be known as a stick-in-the-mud than known for sticking myself at 45° angles." I snap harshly.
Everyone winces a little, and Nikki grinds his teeth together.
"What the hell is your fucking problem?!" Nikki barks at me.
"Oh, I am so glad you asked, I've only been trying to talk to you about for the past two and a half weeks!" I snap.
"Well it's not my problem I've got more important things to do than listen to you whine about our fucking relationship! You've only been doing for nearly two years now, but then you never really tell me what the fuck is wrong, so I'm kinda fucking numb to it by now!"
"I wouldn't expect you not to be numb to it, Nikki! I would be, too, if my nerves were as shot as every last cc of junk I blew my freaking money on!"
"Maybe we should go outside for a little bit--"
"--Sit down!" Nikki and I both yell at Steven before he can stand up, causing everyone else to awkwardly settle back into their seats, because they were getting ready to follow him out.
"Okay." He calmly mumbles, reaching for his cup of booze before he starts chugging.
In fact, I'm noticing them all taking more and more long sips of their drinks.
They're probably going to have grey hairs from stress after leaving tonight.
"See, look, you're turning my friends into alcoholics with your bullshit!" I accuse Nikki and he let's out a loud "HA!"
"Okay, so they're just your friends, now?!" He let's out.
By this point Skylar starts getting fussy with our screaming and Sharise attempts to calm her down.
I'm about to ask her to politely go take Skylar outside or to a different part of the house, even though by the looks of it, she's getting ready to do so anyway.
"Can you shut your God damn baby up, Sharise?!" Nikki's going after her again.
Now it seems either Izzy, Axl or Duff is about to say something, until I intervene to save them a fist fight with someone who can help their careers...not that they would even want his help anymore.
"Can you shut your God damn mouth up, Nikki?!" I stand up, ready to punch him, again, and he stands, too.
"Alright, guys--" Tommy starts but is quickly shut up with a glare from Nikki.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Viv, this is why I'm on smack! So I can get a fucking escape from being trapped in a house with you!"
"For someone who's so miserable being married to me, you sure as hell were adamant about doing so!"
"Until I realized I married a fucking psychopath!" He throws at me, pointing his finger my way.
"And I married a junkie!" I shoot back. "And all you're ever gonna be is a freaking junkie and all you're ever gonna do is junk and party and convince yourself you don't need help when you clearly do! You don't give a fuck about me or our marriage and thank fucking God we don't have kids because you'd probably sell one of them for more smack when we run out of money after your career goes down in flames when you stop giving a single fuck about music, which will probably happen in the next year since you're already writing shitty songs!" I can't stop what's coming out of my mouth, seeing him being hurt by it, disguising it as angry tears when I know I struck a chord of an entirely new emotion in him.
He was already beginning to get discouraged with his new music he was working up for the band's next album, but what I said just validated his lack of confidence.
"I'm not just gonna do junk." He calms down, which let's me know he's officially at his pique. "I'm gonna file for divorce, pack up all your shit, and have it in the yard by tomorrow night, and I'm finally gonna tell you how much I hate being married to you." He tells me and I nod like he's being serious.
"You're such a fucking--" Duff starts but I interrupt him.
I don't even think Nikki notices.
"No, you're gonna go feel sorry for yourself, lock yourself in the closet, shoot up, wake up, feel like a fucking prick--because you are one--then you're gonna ignore me for a few days even though you know I'm right, then we're gonna go to Tommy and Heather's wedding, and the day after, I'm calling Doc and Bob Timmons, we will be attending therapy for our marriage and you will be dragged to rehab kicking and screaming."
And thus the battle between Sikki Nixx and Rabid Bitch Vivian began with no inkling it would become a full-blown war.
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vampire au post
4 skype convos haphazardly mixed in from very different times
[29/11/2014 4:27:51 AM] Probably Not Assorted Cheeses: Vampire au
Lucas the incompetent vampire who eats mostly animals
Duster was the one who bit him, only bc duster was literally starving n lucas came at a bad time
idk if duster should be born a vampire or not but Wes is one too and together they taught lucas how to survive.
however eventually they had to leave, they offered for lucas to join them but lucas can’t leave his family behind, the kid’s too sentimental :’(
so together they staged his death (which im too lazy to try n think of)
claus knew bout the vampire thing tho, lucas couldn’t live alone like that. He also ended up biting Boney in an accident so hey vampire dog.
claus grew up and eventually had his own family. Lucas could only really watch from afar but then the kids got his age and it was hard to see him and keep the gig up. He visited his parents funeral anonymously and afterwards him and claus stood there just
“sup” “how’re the kids” “twice your age and with kids of their own”
“heh, i always thought you would be the one with kids yano?”
it was very bittersweet, it felt like they’ve never been apart
“it never stops feeling strange without you” "I know”
lucas thinks of that conversation a lot
he started off the "younger uncle" then the "weird neighbourhood kid that visits grandpa claus" and inevitably the "weird kid from nowhere who goes to the cemetary every other month to put flowers on graves older than appears to be"
SO without attachments lucas traveled with boney, hoping that they find duster along the way.
eventually lucas comes back to tazmilly but it’s been a couple hundred years now and it’s completely different so he doesn’t recognize it
n lucas one day is caught outside with no shelter, it’s almost morning so he runs into osohe (which is way outta town so he assumed it was abandoned)
vampires can’t enter homes without being invited in because apparently homes are holy land but osohe is fuckn haunted so that doesn’t apply (adding on to the abandoned theory)
that’s how kumatora and him meet, she finds him exploring osohe all “wtf the fuck who are YOU...this me house”
So she gets an awkward lie explanation from lucas
n she eventually catches on lucas is a vampire n is just DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE I NEVER MET A VAMPIRE BEFORE FUCKN SWEET
lucas is just UM.;;; IS IT OK IF I STAY
"oh dude it's cool!! but u gotta tell me bout yourself bc i never met a vampire before ok?? i live iN THE PERFECT GOTHIC HOME BUT THERE’S NONE!! but here you are and i’m JACKED i gotta go to work tho so brb but afterwards u gotta tell me about yourself ok CYA"
lucas is still processing everything by the time she leaves, but he’s grateful and figures a conversation is the least he can do to repay her
in this au kumatora’s into cryptology bc her house is FULL of books and it’s a common subject (also the fact her castle is filled with ghosts and there are zombies just across the moat, it’s a p convenient hobby)
when she comes back she’s super excited because he’s still there
lucas is kinda reserved but he still answers questions bc it’s POLITE
she asks bout p much everything?? “HEY do you need that” “y-yes” “is this true?” “not that i know of” “ok experiment time” “uH;;” “wait am i keeping you up?? it’s still daytime” “no it’s okay”
after exhausting lucas of all his Vampire Facts kuma invites lucas to live at osohe castle, it’s big enough anyways
lucas is wary af bc he doesn't wanna accidentally get close to someone who 1. has a life span and 2. is technically food
but lucas ends up sticking around anyways, boney really likes it and he lowkey enjoys her company
so they keep chillin n lucas tells her how he hunts animals n how he only takes a bit of blood so they don't die and
IDK I GO BY THE THEORY THAT VAMPIRES HAVE VENOM bc otherwise their entire food source becomes COMPETITION
n they can bite but not?? TURN THEM INTO ANYTHIng
so controlled blood flow for feeding purposes
also vampires only need to eat once or twice a month? they die around 6+ months without eating from starvation. It all depends on how quickly the blood cells in their body die basically.
ALSO when they bite you it doesn’t hurt bc their saliva numbs it so (sneaky bites) but it still feels weird as shit
bUT YA SO LUCAS N KUMATORA CHAt a whole bunch...you know that “accidentally get close” thing i mentioned? it happened
(it was kinda hard to avoid when the first companion you have that’s not your dog is informed on vampires and vampire goods, that was convenient)
so they keep hangin out and kumatora unlocks his Tragic Backstory
n sometimes kumatora helps him feed? like they go out together finding animals n storing blood
n lucas is fascinated with how technology has advanced bc he doesn't really?? go into towns anymore but he fuckn LOVES it
n they play video games n general COOL FUNTIMES
kumatora let’s lucas borrow her labtop to occupy himself and he looks for other vampires or hints of them
(this is under the assumption that osohe can get electricity in a modern au while still being ignored / abandoned)
n when kumatora goes to work he cleans up the castle n tries to show how much hE REALLY APPRECIATES HEr
n lIKE i also go by the logic that vampires do not do the stereotypical “turn into ashes at sunlight” it is a slow progression that takes up to 12 hours until absolutely turned to a crisp
so basically if he covers himself and wears a shit ton of sunscreen he can chill in the middle of the day for like...a hour or two
and bc kumatora's WORTH IT he visits her at work n she's all LucAS WHAT ARe yO U DoING??
lookin like a modern goth kid......has a huge red burn on his cheek..
he blames it on how pale/blonde he is “my brother is ginger you know”
kuma gets super worried n he's all bruh it cool i have like..2 more hours until i need to go to a hospital
n kumas jsuT I GET OFF IN 4 HOURS GO HOME
kumatora invites him to movie nights with her friends n shit
people start calling lucas kumatora's goth boyfriend “never call him that when he's around or i'll murder you”
theyre all rather cool with lucas and find his speech kinda funny?
"wow look at those teeny boppers" "GET A LOAD OF THIS GUY GOD I LOVE IT" “???????????????"
kumas friends ask for lucas more all WHAT SCHOOL DOES HE GO TO WHERE DOES HE LIVE "oh he's......foreign B)"
eventually it comes up how lucas doesn’t really want to be a vampire anymore and kumatoras just “dude i can help you find a cure” bc maybe her hobby is a bit Excessive but live your dreams
but ya lucas is just?? constantly wants to visit kumatora n loves her night shifts!! visits all the time they go on hikes a lot n jusT? GETS SO FUCKIGN ATTACHED IT SCARES HIM CONSTANTLY
they sometimes fall asleep on the couch together n when he's all "wow shes so cute.." he realizes how fucking Deep he’s in this and he’s FUCKED
he tries to distance himself but he Can’t Fucking Do It (just like w/ his fam)
whenever he tries to push her away she looks so upset it kills him
N HE'S IN SUCH A STRUGGLE BC HE'S JUST
SO HAPPY TO BE AROUND HER??????
N LIKE WHEN THEY CUDDLE N STUFF HE'S JUST SO OVERWHELMED BC oh my god heartbeats!! oh my god she's gonna die before me
n lucas really fucking feels the severity of how FUCKED he is when its her birthday n hes just
yes she's gonna age and he's gonna outlive her n they could never realistically be happy even if by some offhand chance she even RETURNS the feelings
N HE HAS TO HIDE HIS CRYING N STUFF BUT KUMATORA HAS A 6TH FUCKN SENSE FOR DISTRESSED LUCAS SO SHE'S ALL bruh :( whats up
so he opens up to her about his feelings and anxiety and she hugs him through it, it’s kind of a shitty way to confess
“idk if i can forgive you for deciding that i’m gonna die before you” “are you threatening murder” “that and no way death’s gonna get me, i’m pretty stubborn”
a lil while passes
“you know... i’m okay with becoming a vampire” lucas refuses bc dude.. you can’t even comprehend the weight of immortality.. what if she regrets it
“to hell if i make my closest friend suffer because of a life span” “hah i guess that’s the same for me”
they drop the vampire topic for the time being and move on to other ones such as... mutual feelings :^)
they’re both romantically inclined i mean... lucas spent 300+ years being a hermit and kumatora had other things to do
so they take it slow, it’s p much the same as before except.. hey...now when i think “man i wanna hold their hand” i CAN
it'd also be
really sad and/or cute if
the ghosts in the castle some of them were lucas's family
which might be why boney likes it so much
but also
imagine them kissin on the couch "kuma ghosts r there" "EH THEYRE JUst ghosts"
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
claus looks into the camera
"after so long... finally my little brother gets some action :')"
but idk if that’s a thing bc it feels kinda weird
i feel like kissin n shit wouldn't b very often bc as much as they both loVE IT
IT'S NOT THAT GREAT FOR A VAMPIRE
YANO.... HEARTS R BEATING... NECK IS RIGHT THERE (lucas still adores it tho)
so back to the topic of Mortality
kuma gets attacked in an alley on the way home from work
n lucas finds her bc they were gonna meet up but he smelt the blood and when he does find her he just goes FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK n didn't know how to save her
also thinking rationally is hard when OH LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD AHhaHA
SO HE BITES HER
he carries her body home n he spends the whole waiting process between DEAD and VAMPIRE crying just "hoyl shti please work please work" “what did i fucking dooooo” “what if i was earlier” “what if i was too late” so many anxieties
kuma wakes up and lucas transistions from panic to HAPPY PANIC OH THANK GOD
she’s really out of it bc of the process and he’s crying apologies “it’s okay you saved me” but he’s still crying, they cuddle for comfort
"hey atleast we did it NOW when i'm a hot sexy 19 yr old and not a wrinkly old lady” “kuma” “i’m tryna make light of the conversation”
so now that kumatora’s a vampire she only works night shifts until she eventually quits. They moved to a new town / whatever so it was easy to avoid having to meet someone in the daytime. facebook helped keep in touch with her friends while still letting the friendship die out.
it took kumatora a bit to get used to being a vampire. she threw up a lot at first and she didn’t like having to drink blood but she did eventually get used to it
idk if they find a cure bc idk what the cure would BE but they eventually find other vampires :^) they continued lucas’s search for duster and probably found him tbh
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CHAPTER 32: Hotel California - Part 4
Moya, in horror, watches as Marsellus rises from apparent death, muttering something under his breath. She takes a step back, nearly stepping right into one of the open mouths, which snaps at her, flicking a red tongue. She scowls, and stamps her foot down onto the mouth, shattering its teeth. “Fuck this,” she decides, and turns for the door.
But the door is changed as well, savage teeth sprouting out of the edges and snapping aggressively. There is no longer any escape, it seems. Moya looks all around, and shudders at the sickly sound of the elevators DING open. But rather than people emerging through the door, instead a cascade of blood, several hundred gallons, spills into the lobby, advancing on her with frightening speed.
Before it hits, a clawed hand appears in her periphery. SATURN BARZ, struggling through the distortion affecting its body, swipes upward, and the blood explodes into red mist. “The stairwell! Go, quick!!” Moya heeds him, dashing for the emergency stairwell. WITCH MOUNTAIN stoops, pulling Jerome along with it. Moya slams the door behind her and leaves the lobby of horrors behind.
“What the FUCK was that?!” Moya exclaims after WITCH MOUNTAIN destroys the lock on the emergency exit, locking it shut.
“Keep moving,” Kilo answers, gradually regaining functionality in his limbs, but still carried by Moya’s Stand. “The whole building’s an enemy, and the bellboy won’t stop coming for us.”
She scowls, but follows his advice. She readjusts Shizuka in her arms, and WITCH MOUNTAIN lifts Jerome up by his waistband, holding both him and Kilo like heavy luggage. “What do you mean, the building is an enemy?” She asks, beginning to run up the stairs.
“I don’t get it myself, but somehow, the hotel itself has a Stand ability. It gets you high on all this good shit, makes you comfy, then it gets inside your head and sucks the soul right out of you. Or, it makes you a slave. Even if we kill the bellboy, we’ll still be trapped here. And then we’ll become just like him. We need to demolish the entire building.”
“Brainwashes you with comfort, huh? Explains why these two succumbed to it,” she gestures to Shizuka and Jerome.
“... Yeah. That habit of taking things at face value, it’ll be the death of her one day.” he agrees wearily.
With her shoulder, she opens the stairwell door to the second floor and walks in. “Taking a building down is a tall order, even between the two of our Stands. And since it looks like the bellboy can neutralize Stands with his ability, we’re gonna have to get creative. Can you walk yet?”
“Yeah, put me down,” he says, and WITCH MOUNTAIN does, allowing him to stand shakily on his own two feet. They stand facing each other, each breathless.
“It makes sense that you’d be immune, too,” Moya declares.
“What?”
“You’re so mistrustful. I bet you’ve never had a good thing to say about anything in your life.”
“... Is that your idea of a compliment, officer?”
“No it’s not, punkass.”
They smirk at each other, then turn at the sound of creaking floorboards. Like an image out of a dream, Paul Mann emerges from around the corridor. “Y-you--!!” he sputters upon seeing Kilo.
“... That’s Paul Mann. I know him, he’s some big shot real estate mogul,” Moya says.
“He’s the Congregation’s secret political backer. Dust hid him here after Phantasma died,” Kilo explains.
“... He’s fucking what?”
Mann begins to jog in the opposite direction. Moya drops Shizuka and Jerome to the floor. After a moment of shellshock, she sprints after him and dive-tackles him to the floor. “Is that true?!” she screeches, holding him in an arm bar “Are you really working with Brother Dust?!!”
“Who are you people?!!”
“Is it fucking true?!!”
“Gaagh, ok, yes! He approached me with an offer, he’d help me get out of a little legal trouble, even assist in my political campaign! In return, I’d look the other way on his more sketchy affairs! It was necessary, I-- I have a vision for this country! Sometimes men have to make hard choices for the good of th- AAOWW!” He wails as his shoulders cracks, nearly falling out of place.
“Do we have time for this? Right now?” Kilo says, observing. Moya reluctantly holds off from breaking Mann’s arm, and releases him.
“You stay right where you are, got it?!” she shouts. Mann responds by raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m working on it… I need to get outside. I can’t do anything while I’m inside the building. The hotel’s got control over everything inside it.”
“Then we gotta get our asses up to the roof.”
“Not us,” Kilo says, shaking his head, “There’s at least a dozen people in this building. You need to get them outta here. I have an idea, but it won’t leave any survivors. I won’t have innocent people dying because of me… What?”
“Ah, nothing,” she says, shaking herself out of staring at him. She turns her face away, trying to hide her surprise as she retrieves Shizuka and Jerome from off the floor., “Are you sure we should seperate? What are you going to do while I’m evacuating?”
“I’m gonna be killing a god,” he says, then turns without another word, leaving Moya aghast. She hesitates momentarily, then moves.
His insistence on preserving innocent life took her by surprise. Never had she imagined that the furious man she met on the beach could say something so righteous. “I’ll trust you, Kilo Staples,” she thinks, preparing her search for afflicted guests, “because you chose to trust me.”
***
Halfway up the stairs to the seventh floor, Kilo watches the 7 at the top of the stairs split in two. The wall cracks and bulges, opening to reveal a mouth full of dirty teeth and drool. Marsellus emerges out of this opening, covered in saliva. The smell of the hotel’s insides hangs off of him, reaching Kilo even meters away. The bellboy’s face twitches between a smile and a scowl, his movements are jerky and strange. “D-d-d-did you think you had lost me, s-s-sir?” he asks, CALIFORNICATION emerging next to him, crackling electricity.
“Nah, I didn’t,” Kilo responds. CALIFORNICATION moves, dashing down the stairs. SATURN BARZ waves its hands, but this proves to be a feint, as it delivers a sharp kick to the stairs in front of it. Instantly, the surface of the stairs turns to liquid, reaching up to where Marsellus stands.
The bellboy yelps as he loses all traction with the ground. CALIFORNICATION disappears, and its master slides down the stairs like an impromptu water-park. SATURN BARZ strikes the stairs again, and they solidify back into solid concrete. It crackles and traps Marsellus on his back, halfway down.
“Damn you!! E-even if you immobilize me, my Stand is faster than yours! It has a wider range than yours! You cannot defeat me!”
Kilo answers him with a kick to the face, before he climbs onto the guard rail and leaps straight up off of it, clambering up to reach the fire escape door to the roof.
Marsellus struggles and curses out, as CALIFORNICATION reactivates within him, generating electricity from the inside out. Water drips from the ends of his concrete prison, and he struggles, inching forward until the stone finally cracks enough that he can break free.
Kilo is about to touch the metal door handle. In the instant before he can, CALIFORNICATION slams its fist into the wall, directing arcs of static electricity to travel through the metal and electronics, up the stairs and infusing into the doorknob. Once his fingers close around it, the power moves up his arm and shoots him backwards into the guard rail.
“AAH!” he shouts, as much in frustration as pain. “SATURN BARZ!!” He summons his Stand, and it evaporates the door with an “URAAH!!” Clutching his quickly numbing arm, he runs through the doorway, stepping out onto the roof. He stumbles and falls, and sits up on his knees. The night sky is above him. He breathes the outside air.
“Enough,” comes the voice from the stairwell, “t-t-there is no longer anywhere to run! Your stay at the Hotel California will never end!” Marsellus steps into the door frame and leans against it. He is damaged, his skin blistered and cut, his left eye bloodshot. Yet he keeps going, driven by mad devotion for the sinister building that possesses him.
Kilo turns, digging his fingernails into his right arm, trying to awaken feeling in it. “You know what?” he declares, “I been thinking about what you said earlier.” SATURN BARZ emerges, sans a right arm. Nevertheless, it stands tall, beginning to stamp its foot rhythmically. It raises its one arm into the night air, reddish-brown vapor building in its palm. Marsellus summons CALIFORNICATION, but cautiously remains where he is.
“You said giving into the hotel frees you from struggle. What a load of shit. I heard you squealing for Dust to come save you earlier. You know what?” Kilo continues, “I think all this is, is that you was too much of a pussy to fight for the life you wanted.” SATURN BARZ swipes downward, and the vapor expands, rising into the air. With each swipe of its claw, the vapor builds into a great cloud, which rises into the air.
“A smokescreen?” Marsellus says, shaking out of his daze, “Did you not hear me? There is nowhere to r-r-run!! It doesn’t matter what you do to me or this Hotel, you’re DOOMED!!!”
“I’m not aiming to bring you down, ya little bitch. You ain’t worth it…” He says with a smirk, as the cloud of vapor ascends into the air. “You ain’t nothing but a puppet… the idea is… to cut off the hand holding the strings…!”
Marsellus bares his teeth and seethes, ready to unleash a torrent of electricity at Kilo. But, just then, he feels small drops of water hit the back of his outstretched hand. “ What the?…” he murmurs. He looks up, and the droplets fall from the cloud created by SATURN BARZ, hanging overhead.
“Rain…? Is this it?” he asks snidely, as further raindrops begin to fall on the roof around them, “Make it rain a tad, and then… what? Make the pipes rust?”
“You’re a native, right, aren’t you?” Kilo retorts, “Then you outta know, one of the worst parts of living here is all the fucking smog. Some days you can barely breathe…! And every so often, all that exhaust builds up, gets high enough, and it comes back down…” He winces as a raindrop lands on his cheek, and quickly wipes it off. He watches with satisfaction as Marsellus recoils, then grimaces in pain.
In horror, Marsellus stares at a hole that has formed in his hand, the flesh burned and blistered. It has been burned straight through, an injury replicated in his Stand’s hand. In the very spot where the raindrop landed.
“When all those fumes built up over weeks of traffic get high enough, sometimes they come back down! As acid rain!” SATURN BARZ manifests and shields its user from the raindrops, as all around him, they burn holes straight through the roof of the Hotel California
A bass moaning sound can be heard. The ground beneath them contorts, pelted on all sides by burning rain. The acidic cloud grows ever larger, and the clean concrete and brick architecture morphs into slick, organic flesh.
“N-no! NOO!!” Marsellus cries, apparently ignorant to his own flesh being gradually destroyed by the rain, his uniform falling in pieces off of him. CALIFORNICATION, too, degrades, its wrought metal body melting into useless scrap.
***
Downstairs, Shizuka bolts upright, leaping out of Moya’s arms and rolling, suddenly wide awake. “What happened?!” she cries, looking all around.
Jerome wakes at the same moment. “Oh, finally!” Moya exclaims, patting him on the back as he grasps his bearings.
“W-What’s going on? Wh… You! The cop!”
“Moya?! What are you doing here?” Shizuka exclaims, noticing her for the first time.
“No time to explain! Let’s get moving!” she shouts, shoving a man in front of her hard on the shoulder.
“I-I’m going, I’m going!” the man protests, revealing himself to be the lawyer from the room across from Kilo’s. He pulls his son along by the hand, desperately trying to keep him calm. A full procession of such people, all guests and prisoners of Hotel California, trail after Moya.
Paul Mann remains reluctantly by her side, his hands held behind his back by WITCH MOUNTAIN, a force that he cannot see. Many of them appear to shake their heads at the same moment, as if waking from a dream.
“Where’s Kilo?” Shizuka asks, following Moya, “What happened with the old man in the hallway?”
“I don’t know anything about that, but Staples is taking care of things. Looks like whatever he did worked…” she replies, then pauses, spreading her hands wide and bringing everyone to a halt.
A bulge forms in the ceiling in front of them, as if a load of water has been spilled and is deforming the plaster. After a moment, the bulge bursts and liquid spills out of it onto the carpet. There is a chemical scent of burning where the fluid interacts with the fabric.
“What in the world?” exclaims Paul Mann, and similar murmurs of confusion go up among the gathering. From all but Shizuka, who stares at the acid with terrible understanding.
“We- We need to get out of here… Now!” she implores Moya, who herself begins to understand upon seeing Shizuka’s face.
“Move! Move, move, move!” she yells, and the guests follow her commands as similar bulges form all over the ceiling, spilling deadly acid all over the floor, eating away at the hotel.
#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#achtung attitude#shizuka joestar#kilo staples#moya pezzente#c-king#witch mountain#hotel california#ch32
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in too deep (part 6) - jules
jules x reader
warnings: implied drug use, head trauma, choking, death
notes: as i’m typing this i’m SO excited to post it i just really love how this turned out and i hope you guys do too
also idk how to make a hyperlink but if you’re looking for any of the other parts just search #jules on my page and they should come up :)
******************************
everything felt... numb. quiet. miles and miles away.
you thought you had felt silence before, but this was on a whole other level. you could see yourself standing in an empty, pitch black void, mindlessly wandering in circles.
you felt a small tickle underneath your nose, but seemingly nothing caused it. you rubbed at your face, some invisible antagonist causing an irritating tingle across your skin.
suddenly, the air became trapped in your lungs, your throat itching with the need to breathe. you took in a breath through your nose and watched in wonder as the barren darkness around you rapidly morph into a magnificent rainbow of colors.
the colors turned paler and paler as a bright whiteness set in, a searing pain bursting through your chest. you cried out for the light to stop, begging to go back to the comforting darkness.
your eyelids flew open as you began to hyperventilate in panic. your pupils darted around the room, taking in all your blinding surroundings. you tried to speak, but jules held a firm hand over your mouth.
“hey, hey, it’s okay, baby! you’re okay!” she lifted her hand and ran it down your jaw comfortingly. “hey, i have a plan.”
———————————————
“let’s get the hell outta here and find ‘em.” george mumbled, the door slamming behind the couple.
jules peeked our the window, ensuring that they had left before you came out of hiding. she let out a frantic laugh, excited beyond belief that the two of you had finally managed to escape from under their watchful eyes.
“i can’t believe that fucking worked!” you breathed out. you pulled her in for a deep kiss before snatching the keys you spotted during dinner. you busied yourself unlocking the garage, looking over your shoulder to find jules looking at you disapprovingly. “what is it, babe? we gotta get the fuck out of here!”
“y/n, the kid.” she gestured towards the basement door.
“shit, yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “let’s go get her.” you practically flew down the stairs, pulling the keys from your pocket and unlocking the chains.
“c’mon! let’s go!” you quickly realized she was hesitant because of your earlier actions. “oh, are you still mad about earlier? i was lying, didn’t you see me wink? that’s what a wink is; it means you’re not supposed to believe what i said!”
sweetiepie stubbornly refused to move. “look, hun, i’m really sorry for what i said, alright? i should’ve known you don’t know what a wink is. i get it, this is clearly a very serious household, but we have to get out of here right now, and we really want you to come with us, okay, sweetheart?” you held out a hopeful hand towards her.
she nodded silently, placing a tiny hand in yours. “there ‘ya go, let’s beat it.” you scooped her up into your arms as you ran up the stairs.
the three of you burst through the garage door, placing sweetiepie in the backseat after jules unlocked the door. you slid into the driver’s seat, searching blindly for the garage-door-opener but coming up empty handed.
“shit! where’s the fuckin’ garage thingy?” you panicked. jules opened the console, pressing the button as soon as she found it.
as the door finally peeled open, the air left your body in an instant. george stood in the driveway, your pistol trained on you.
motherfucker.
“get outta the goddamn car, y/n.” he demanded. your brain was racing hundreds of miles a minute, working through every possible way this could end.
“i love you, julie, but please forgive me for just how fucking stupid i’m about to be.” before she could protest, you uttered a simple command. “duck.”
sweetiepie and jules covered their head, bracing themselves for whatever was about to happen. you took a deep breath before stepping on the gas, ducking down behind the steering wheel.
you heard the crack of three gunshots, followed by the thunk of george’s body underneath the car. you slammed on the brake to avoid crashing into the forest, your head whipping into the wheel as the car jolted to a stop.
jules peeked through her fingers, elated to see all the passengers alive and bullet hole-free.
“ah fuck, my fuckin’ head, i-“ your words were muffled against jules lips as she desperately mashed them against yours.
“you’re so fucking brave, baby! i love you so much! i love you so fucking much!” tears slid down her cheeks as she declared her love for you. you smiled at her praises and pulled away from her with a parting peck.
“you alright back there, sweetheart?” you looked in the rearview mirror. she offered nothing but a simple nod and a nearly imperceptible smile. before you could shift into reverse and leave this hellhole, the driver-side door flew open and you fell to the ground.
george threw you into the pavement with impressive strength for someone who had just been run over only moments ago. your head jerked into the unforgiving macadam, stunning you momentarily and giving george enough time to wrap his hands around your throat.
“you thought you could kill me?” he gurgled, blood dripping from his wounds. “i’m never gonna die!” you practically felt the life slipping out of your hands. you so desperately wanted to put up a fight, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so.
“i’m the last thing you’re ever gonna see. time to go.” george growled, squeezing tighter. you could faintly hear footsteps in quick succession, but you had no idea who they were coming from.
“let go of her!” jules yelled, trying with all her might to wrench the psychopathic man off of you. for a moment you thought she might succeed, but you heard another woman’s voice, gloria, you assumed, pull her away from you.
through darkening vision and fluttering eyelids, you caught a glimpse of the older woman brandishing a knife against the neck of your girlfriend as she struggled fruitlessly.
fighting seemed hopeless as you had run out of breath and darkness began to encapsulate your surroundings. this is it, you thought. this is where it all ends.
until,
click.
the sound of a pistol cocking. the pressure eased off of your esophagus and you rolled onto your side trying to catch your breath.
“sweetiepie,” george began with his thick southern drawl. “where’d ‘ya get that gun? c’mon now, give it to daddy. what did these people say about me? d’they tell you i’m a bad man? i’m not a bad man, i’m a good man, bring the gun to daddy.”
sweetiepie stood stoic, refusing to move the gun from it’s place in her hands. george decided to try a different approach. “what’ll make you feel good? you know what makes me feel good? ice cream. mint cho-”
a gunshot rang through the air, it’s bullet making a rapid path straight through his eye socket. his body fell onto the ground with a thud.
“george?” gloria crooned. “are you okay?” the knife clattered against the driveway. jules rushed away from her over to you, helping you from the ground. she grabbed the gun from sweetiepie’s hands and aimed it at the widow in case she made any sudden moves.
“time for us to go! the open road is ahead, george.” she sniffled. “oh, i suppose we could wait a bit longer, if you need.” she continued to mumble some more crazy talk as she stroked her deceased husband’s cheek.
jules lowered her gun, turning to the little girl who saved your asses. she pulled her close, running her ringed fingers through the girl’s matted locks. sweetiepie looked up to you, leaning against the car door for support, and buried her face in your shirt as she wrapped her arms around you. “i wanna go with you,” she murmured quietly.
“let’s go, julie.” you wheezed. she nodded, checking to make sure gloria wasn’t going to pull anything on you.
the three of you made it to the main road. the rush of adrenaline from the coke had finally worn off and the pain and exhaustion from your injuries had caught up to you as you leaned your weight on jules’ shoulder. you weren’t quite sure where exactly you were trying to go, mainly just looking for any means to leave this state.
“when we get out of here,” you mumbled. “are we going back to stealing?” you looked over to your girlfriend who was looking down at the little girl holding your hand.
“i don’t think this one needs any more bad influences in her life, i’m sure we’ll find something. maybe we can start that business like we’ve always wanted to.” she smiled.
before either of you could elaborate any further, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires filled your ears. jules stuck her thumb out, hoping the driver had enough of a heart to pull over. the red truck slowed to a stop and you watched as the window rolled down, revealing an older woman.
“where you girls headed?” she asked considerately. sweetiepie stood on her tip toes to get a better look at what was presumably the first person she’d seen in what you assumed had been years.
you shared a look with jules, silently coming to the same conclusion. “florida.”
the woman smiled, unlocking the doors with the switch on the door. “well, i’m not exactly a taxi service, so i can’t guarantee ‘ya i’ll get you that far, but i’ll see what i can do.”
jules grinned happily, thanking the woman immensely. you gave sweetiepie a boost into the back seat, jules helping you up next to her before sliding into the passenger seat herself.
some country song started playing at a low volume over the radio while you let your head fall back against the headrest. sweetiepie looked equally as worn out as you, but somewhat excited at the prospect of seeing what anything outside of a dingy basement looked like.
jules turned around to check on you and smiled at what she saw. you were passed out with your head against the cool glass of the car window, sweetiepie fast asleep on your lap, the two of you out cold before you even hit the first red light.
she turned back around, tears welling in her eyes as she imagined the life the three of you would live together.
******************************
HAHA YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY THINK I WAS GONNA WRITE THE ACTUAL ENDING DID YOU???? jokes on you i am FAR too soft for that!!
if you’re wondering how i came up with this alternate ending, this was the situation that i came up with immediately after watching the movie for the first time when i realized just HOW AVOIDABLE mickey’s death was
and another factor in that is that i think i’m physically incapable of writing anything that doesn’t have a happy ending sooo
tags: @emmyrosee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee
#god im just YEARNING#for mickey#for jules#for a bf#for a gf#i am very needy#anyway#jules#jules x reader#jules imagine#jules oneshot#jules fanfiction#jules fanfic#jules fic#jules fluff#jules villains#villains#villains spoilers#villajns 2019#maika monroe#maika monroe character#my writing
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nobody knew (and nobody knows)
Crossover with The Magnus Archives podcast because this idea has been bothering me for a while now so I finally just wrote it. Whatever. Not my best work.
Mild spoilers for the end of S1 of The Magnus Archives. Takes place after episodes 39/40 of the podcast.
Also contains headcanons, lots of swearing, and the implication that the main EW boys don’t follow the standard laws of time and space. Post The End EW time.
In other words, this is bullshit.
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Case number zero-one-one—"
“Six-six-six.”
“Mr. Ritehill, please.”
“Whatever.”
“Statement of Thomas Ritehill, regarding an…unusual trip taken by himself and his companions in January 2007. Statement—”
“And the shit in 2014.”
“[sigh] Regarding the trip in January 2007 as well as the disturbances on 31st December, 2014. Statement taken direct from subject, 14th November 2016. Interview conducted by Johnathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Before you begin—why are you just now giving a statement?”
“’Cause a bunch of shit went down and somebody needs to hear about it. M’friends don’t wanna talk about it. And if I have to sit on this bullshit by myself anymore I’ll explode.”
“Right. Erm. Statement begins.”
“…now?”
“Yes, now.”
“[mumbling]…can’ believe you’re using a damn tape recorder…what year is this…[sounds of container being unscrewed]”
“Mr. Ritehill—”
“Call me Tom, god. And let a man have his damn vodka. Holy shitake on a sled, lemme just. Fuck. Okay. So, back in 2007, the four of us were bored, right, and Tord—this is when that commie fuck still lived with us—Tord—”
“Full names, please.”
“Christ, okay. Tord Lesion said we should go to Hell. So we did. Just the tourist route, ya know, got to see our personal hells and shit. Won’t bore you with the details. So yeah, me, Tord Lesion, Edd Golding, and Matt Harvice took an elevator to Hell, had a good time, got some souvenirs, and came back. Whatever.
’Cept when we were leaving the…the devil holding the door for the exit said they’d see me in six months. And it was like, haha, mate, yeah, sure, whatever, funny joke. I didn’t mention it to the guys and I didn’t think about it again. Couple months later, Edd’s digging a hole in the back garden and comes up with this door all covered in symbols ‘n stuff. And we’re all a buncha dumbasses so we go down it. Deal with some Indiana Jones traps, beat off a killer mummy, find a mysterious treasure box—you know the drill. So Tord opens the box and then…I dunno. Everything went dark.
If you ask any of the other three, they’d probably just tell you that I was unconscious. They said there was nothin’ in the treasure chest but I’m pretty sure the jackasses kept it for themselves and didn’t tell me. Probably for the best; I just woulda spent it on alcohol.
Anyway, from my perspective, we fell down a hole. When Tord opened the box, the floor dropped out from underneath us and we fell into darkness. I couldn’t see or hear the others, I was just falling in darkness. Or maybe floating. I dunno. Kinda…felt like forever and no time at all. I know that doesn’t make sense but you lot probably hear shit like that all the time. So I’m floating there and it’s dark, pitch black, but I can still see my hands in front of my face, like there’s a light shining only on me but there isn’t a light. Kinda like how someone looks when they stand in front of a black backdrop; the background’s all dark but they’re, like, normally lit or whatever.
And I wasn’t really scared ‘cause it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me. I was just kind of waiting for something to happen. Because something always happens.
Didn’t have to wait long.
I felt something slide its hands around my neck from behind, felt its fingers on my windpipe, its thumbs at the base of my skull. I kind of expected it to be cold, like icy or something. But they were hot, like someone with a fever, uncomfortable. Made my skin prickle. It said…something. Couldn’t tell you what it was now, only have the vaguest sensation of—of a voice, talking to me, right in my ear, hot breath on my skin. I kept thinking I could see it moving out of the corner of my eye but if I tried to turn my head to look, it would start squeezing my neck until it had cut off my air supply.
Sometimes I think I can remember that it had promised me things. Sometimes I think it might have said something about a fight or a war or something. A lot of the time I pretend the whole thing was because I was blackout drunk. But I know that last bit’s not true because I hadn’t been drinking that night. And I wasn’t too worried because, I mean, weird stuff happens to the four of us all the time, stuff that no one even remembers. We’ve been through…three? Zombie apocalypses now? Hell, Matt’s led one of them. All of us have died and come back to life. And—and the thing is, right, the thing is that no one else remembers it. I’m pretty sure there’s stuff that’s happened that we don’t even remember. Tord said somethin’ once about crossing time lines or some shit but I dunno about any of the string theory, philosophical bullshit.
All I know for sure is, that night, in the black that wasn’t dark, with this thing’s hands around my neck, a demon crawled inside me.
A demon crawled inside me and it lives there and it’s so. Fuckin’ angry. Or maybe I’m angry. I don’t know for sure anymore, it’s been too long.
But—[container unscrews, long pause]—mm, anyway. The thing with its hands on my throat somehow—it somehow pries my mouth open. Gets its fingers between my teeth and wrenches my jaw apart so hard it aches. And then there’s this…this purple thing. It looks darker than the black but it’s purple and maybe that’s just because it’s beyond human comprehension or some shit. Hell if I know. It got closer and closer and for the first time in there I was scared. I was fucking scared and I thought—I don’t know what I thought, all I remember for sure is this—this blinding panic. This kind of raw, mind-numbing terror that made my heart beat so hard it hurt and it was hard to breathe and all I could hear was this rushing sound in my ears as this—this cloudy purple thing got closer and closer. I tried to get away but I couldn’t move, I could only sit there and watch.
And it—it…it just…”
“Mr. Ri—sorry. Tom. Do you need a break? We can take a moment to—”
“No. If I don’t…if I don’t say it now—if I leave this room—I’m not comin’ back. And I gotta get this out. [a deep breath, let out slowly] Just…remembering it now…it still scares the shit outta me.
So this cloud thing…it…crawls inside my mouth. And I can feel it. It tastes like…like how ash smells? Or maybe like someone filled my mouth with ash. And embers. Because it was hot and it didn’t exactly burn, it was just—like that moment when you drink some coffee and it’s still hot but not so hot you burn your tongue but still hot enough you gotta sip it. You know what I mean?
And I can feel it s-sort of wr-wriggling…wriggling and squirming to get inside me and I’m t-trying to push it out with my tongue or—or close my mouth or something. Anything to keep this thing out. B-but it keeps flopping around and pushing itself inside my and I’m—I’m ch-choking on it, gagging, and I think I was crying and trying to scream and this thing—[gagging sound]”
“Tom—”
“N-no, no, stop, shut up, let me just—finish. Okay? Don’t! Don’t fuckin’ touch me! I’m fine! Just let me give my damn statement and get out of this place. It smells like death in here.”
“I…I apologize. Please continue.”
“It went down my throat. I could feel it sliding down my throat, feel it under the fingers of that thing that still held my mouth open. It was lighter than candyfloss but I felt it like I’d swallowed a chunk of bread without chewing it enough. It was gross and it was horrible and it was terrifying and I don’t think I’d wish it on anyone. Even that bastard Tord.
And then it was just…done. The hands were gone, the cloud thing was gone, and I was laying on the couch in our sitting room, gasping at the ceiling. Edd was the only one in there, watching the telly. Said he was too tired to carry to my room and then laughed at me for passing out. Maybe I shoulda said something then, should have told him what had just happened, what I’d seen. But I didn’t. Instead I ran to the bathroom and threw up. And it just never came up again, never had a reason to say anything. I kept getting distracted by things.
I didn’t know what had happened until the end of December, in 2014.
You remember that year? It was really wet. Kept raining but we hardly got any snow. Freezing cold but just…no snow, not really, nothing that really stuck.
Anyway, Edd had been on the roof fixing the satellite dish during a rainstorm. He ended up having another dick measuring contest with one of our neighbors, Eduardo. Um, I dunno his last name, actually. Var…something. Var…there was an “L” in there somewhere. Sorry. Can’t remember. Eduardo had this, like, “alien” satellite or something and I guess it was radioactive or whatever. Anyway, he and Edd both ended up with superpowers for 24 hours and I can see by the look on your face that you think I’m takin’ the piss and I swear to fuck I am not. You can look up the incident report yourself, probably. But I bet the coppers only wrote something about property damage due to gang violence or some bullshit. Might be pictures our there somewhere but I dunno how to find them. I’m afraid I’d see myself if I did.
So Eduardo punched me, like, three blocks. Should have killed me. Instead it just…it felt like something clicked into place. And I remembered that demon that had shoved its way down my throat. It was like it had been waiting for this.
It hurt, that first time.
When your body’s stretching and your muscles are tearing and your skin is warping and your bones are snapping and cracking and breaking into new shapes. It hurts like a son of a bitch. I wanted to die. But mostly I was just angry. I was so fucking angry.
Don’t remember much while I was…changed. Flashes of stuff; tearing through building, smashing cars, attacking Eduardo and Edd. I think I might have ate someone. I try not to think about it.
Eduardo hit me with something, some kind of energy beam, I dunno. Sent me flying and ripped that smoke right out of me. I remember it flying away, remember the feeling of it ripping out of my throat and tearing off into the night.
But whatever it had done was kind of…stuck to me, I guess. I can still turn into a monster. Almost did when Tord showed his damn commie face again and blew our house up. You can look that up too. 27 Durden Lane. Nothing but a crater now.
[a pause, sounds of container unscrewing, another pause, the thud of a fist hitting the table]
And the only fuckin’ reason I’m telling you people this is because—fuck it, you probably already think I’m insane—there’s some kind of big…bad thing on the way. Fuck if I know. Just. I just…feel it. Can smell it. Or something. Taste it like some dry fuckin’ rum in the back of my mouth. Maybe the world’s ending for real this time. Maybe everyone will actually remember it. I don’t know.
But this place fucking stinks like a bunch of rotten bodies, like that musty attic stench with dead bugs everywhere. And you don’t believe a damn word I’m saying because you think I’m just a drunk. Ha. I can’t even get drunk anymore.
Whatever. Believe what you want. We went to Hell and I’ve got demon powers. The end.”
“…right. Um. Is the whole…demon powers the reason why your eyes are like…that?”
“What? No. This is just ‘cause my mum’s a bowling ball. They’re hollow. See?”
“O-oh my god. State—statement ends.”
[click]
“I will admit I am…extremely skeptical of Mister—of Tom’s statement. It sound positively ludicrous, the delusions of a schizophrenic at their worst, I’d even hazard. I’d disregard his statement entirely if not for the visceral reactions he showed to some of his own words—though that only proves that he believes they’re true.
But his eyes…Christ, I’ve never seen anything like that. He could obviously see but they were just. Black pits in his head. Gone. He stuck his fingers in them. Not the worst thing I’ve seen, all things considered, but one of the most…disturbing? Uncomfortable, may be the better word.
Tim was able to find a police report on the incident at 27 Durden Lane on 13th March, 2016. It was written off as an accident but with some additional digging he managed to find…more. The rubble and blast patterns look more like they were caused by external explosions. Tim says it looks like a bomb went off. Or several bombs. The neighbor’s house—the residence of one Eduardo Varela, Markus Barnes, and Jonathan Rees—also sustained serious damage. Jonathan Rees reportedly died at the scene due to serious injury.
Martin managed to dig up a few photos from the incident in 2014. Most of them aren’t the best quality and it’s hard to tell what’s happening except for bright flashes of green. But one very clearly depicts a monstrous shape, as big as a building it looks like, with horns on its head. It’s hard to tell in the photograph but it appears to be purple. There was a reported explosion in a local park around the date Tom Ritehill claims he transformed into a monster, and there is a crater there from the police report. But that’s all the evidence we can find to support his…stories.
We tried to get into contact with Eddward Golding and Matthew Harvice but neither of them were very forthcoming. Edd Golding declined to comment altogether and Matt Harvice was…he was difficult to talk to. It was as if he kept losing his train of thought. I doubt he would make for a reliable source.
There was also an attempt to contact the individual Tord Lesion but none of the information we were able to find was up to date. The only thing Tim managed to scrounge up was an old wanted poster, several months out of date, with Tord Lesion’s image on it. He appears to be in a military style uniform with a shotgun. If Tom Ritehill’s claims that Tord is starting a personal army are to be believed, then I suppose this would be a reason to trust his word. Maybe.
[sigh] I suppose we could investigate these claims more in the future. Though I am very much inclined to ignore them.
End recording.”
[click]
“Supplemental.
It just occurred to me that it’s been very nearly four months since the incident with Jane Prentiss. This place has been scrubbed within an inch of its life, nearly burned with chemicals, steamed so badly that it made my eyes water with the lingering chemical smell when I finally came back from leave. It’s been so thoroughly cleaned that a blind dog trying to sniff his way out would have run into the walls.
And yet…and yet Thomas claimed he could…he could smell the death. He said…dead bugs. Specifically dead bugs. And decay. And I can’t…stop thinking about those tunnels…and what could still be down there.
…end supplemental.”
[end of tape]
#8ball fics#i don't feel very confident about this writing to the point where i almost didn't post this
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The Lifeblood of the Town
Snowflakes drifted down from a gray twilit sky. Winds carrying a biting cold swept over the looming treetops of the pine trees surrounding this place, causing the canopy to gently sway and crackle and whisper. It had been snowing for days, so the soft white mass caked the parking lot and a drab concrete structure on this artificial clearing.
The only tracks leading here were Rhiannon’s own footprints, drudging through the thick layer of snow that had piled up since her arrival in her old hometown, Evergreen. As she approached this desolate building, the snow crunched underfoot and it was so cold outside that she could not feel her toes in her boots anymore.
No matter how gently the snow fell, it fell without pause. Happy to find shelter in the tunnel-like entrance to the reservoir, she kicked the tips of her boots against the cement ground to knock snow off of them.
She hugged herself and huddled deeper into her black scarf and black down jacket, shivering the very moment she stopped walking. It was not the cold that caused Rhiannon to shiver, but what she saw. Occult symbols written in white chalk upon the darkened concrete wall.
She recognized them.
Before she could appreciate the strangeness inherent in this array of archaic signs, the growl of a car’s engine carried up the hill and across the empty parking lot. Rhiannon stepped deeper into the shadows here, pressing herself up against the wall and hoping to remain unseen by whomever it was who neared.
One of the sheriff department’s vehicles rolled around the curve and onto the parking lot with a painful slowness. The chains on its wheels propelled it forth with steady progress and the snow parted in front of it until the car came to a stop.
Rhiannon squinted and then recognized the man getting out of the vehicle to be Josh. He put on a cap with fuzzy earflaps and slammed the door shut behind him, then rubbed his hands together, blowing warm air into the hollow between them and repeating the rubbing with more vigor. Meanwhile, his gaze trailed after Rhiannon’s tracks, leading right up to the reservoir’s entrance.
She swore underneath her breath and stepped out of the shadows, still hugging herself and waiting for him to approach. Approaching, he raised a reddened hand in greeting and cracked a nervous smile, more courtesy than genuine as it did not quite reach his eyes.
Once he was within earshot, she asked him, “Can I help you?”
He continued without approaching and the smile faded from his face. He winced and looked Rhiannon up and down.
He cleared his throat and then asked, “Ryan Walker? Is that really you?”
“Fuck you,” she said in response to him deadnaming her.
Josh stopped in his tracks and his face fell, taken aback by the sharply-worded reply. She sighed in frustration, regretting her knee-jerk reaction because she had, after all, just insulted the deputy. When she had arrived in town the day before, the sheriff already implied that he was just looking for any reason to arrest her.
“Hey, uh, I’m sorry. Sheriff said something about—somethin’, you know—and uh, I wasn’t sure,” Josh stammered. “Uh, shit. I’m really sorry, I don’t know how—y'know—this whole LGBT stuff.”
They had last seen each other over twenty years ago and he retained none of the arrogance and confidence that he used to have as one of the jocks; none of that contempt that he and the other White Wolves players and cheerleaders used to ooze when they looked down on her and her small clique of friends from back then. Rhiannon could feel her own eyes go wide with surprise at seeing him like this.
She decided to let him off the hook because his sputtering of words and what she felt were sincere attempts at apologizing.
“I’m Rhiannon now.”
Josh swallowed and asked, “So, Rhiannon Walker?”
“Yeah.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” Josh repeated with the word trailing off.
“Never mind.”
They stood there for another moment, eyes locked in the awkward silence. Josh stood out in the middle of the snowfall and it began to cover his cap and shoulders in white powder.
“Uh, okay, so. I think you should leave,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, uh, the reservoir has been off-limits to the public ever since that incident a couple o’ years back. I can drive you back down to the hotel, or wherever you need to go.”
He flashed another smile, with more genuine light about it this time.
“I don’t think so.”
And there went the smile again.
Rhiannon took a deep breath. She decided she was going to level with him here. Either he was in on things and she would get into real trouble now, or he was just the kind of unexpected ally that she needed.
“Listen, Josh? Surely you’ve noticed that there’s something wrong about this town, right?”
“Uh,” he began, swallowing whatever he had wanted to say. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “What do you mean?”
“Complaints about a naked man wearing a severed horse’s head chasing people out of Lakeview Hotel, rumors of people disappearing from the hospital for brief periods of time without memory of whatever happened, sightings of UFO-like lights up here over the reservoir, and people disguised as the homeless dancing with shopping carts on parking lots by night?”
The blood drained from his face. Either he knew something more, or hearing her bluntly summarize these strange things struck a chord with him.
“Okay. Sure. I mean, every town’s gotta have weird stuff—weird stories like that, right? What about it?”
Rhiannon hugged herself tighter as the cold was seeping into her bones and her fingers tingled with numbness, despite having escaped the wind by stepping into the reservoir’s entrance.
“I’m investigating because I have reason to believe that someone who lives in town is going to commit a murder soon. And I’m going to stop that from happening,” Rhiannon said with a fiery confidence.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“How—why do believe to know about this upcoming murder? Who?”
She bit her lip and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. His almost endearing nervousness had vanished from his voice when he said, “Not good enough. Humor me.”
Now Rhiannon was getting nervous. She decided to give him a more rationalized rendition of Alethea’s theory.
“My friends and I got a letter from Harry—or rather, someone posing as him. It said that someone was gonna die in the shower room at the high school reunion party.”
Josh’s eyes narrowed and pierced into her own, and she found it impossible to read his expression now.
Rhiannon reached out to her side and tapped a black-painted fingernail against the white chalk markings on the wall.
“These are occult symbols,” she said.
Breaking eye contact and squinting to discern what she was pointing out, he finally stepped closer, exiting the incessant snowfall outside the reservoir’s entrance and sidling up beside her within the tunnel-like area. Producing a small flashlight from one of his zippered jacket pockets, he clicked it on and shone it upon the wall.
The cone of light swept back and forth, and Rhiannon closely followed his face to see if he might be pretending to be oblivious about everything. Still impossible to determine.
“What on earth is—what do they mean?”
Rhiannon had not had much time to decipher them herself before he arrived and her curiosity was enkindled once more. She snatched the flashlight from Josh’s hand and they exchanged an awkward stare that lingered for far too long.
Then she used the flashlight’s glow to read the symbols in sequence.
He scratched at the line of one of the symbols and muttered, “Pretty new, like they were drawn not too long ago.”
“Sleep and obey,” Rhiannon said.
“Huh?”
“That’s what they mean, in a nutshell. Ijjisar, Moratar, Kherevar. Old Mesopotamian necromancy, used in ancient rituals. That is, if I’m remembering these correctly.”
“Okay, but what does any of that mean?”
Rhiannon shook her head and sighed in frustration, “Wish I remembered. Didn’t think to bring my fucking library of occult books when I decided to come back to this shitty town.”
Josh took the flashlight back out of her hand and she let him. He clicked it off again.
With rising fervor, Rhiannon said, “I think there’s a weird cult in this town. I think there always has been, and I think the letter about the murder is serious. I also think that there might be clues to the cult, or the murder, or something up here. So you should either arrest me now or do your fucking job and help me get to the bottom of this.”
She grabbed the flashlight back from his hand and switched it back on, shining down the tunnel, where a deep suffocating darkness swallowed the light.
Josh emitted a stifled groan. “You’re a civilian, for fuck’s sake.” In the absence of any response from her and Rhiannon just glaring at him, he groaned without restraint. “I see there ain’t gonna be any way of talkin’ you outta this.” He licked his lips and added, “Wait here.”
Waddling back through the snow, he went over to his car and—much to Rhiannon’s surprise—retrieved a shotgun from the passenger seat. He then switched on a flashlight mounted onto the firearm and returned to join her in the reservoir’s entrance.
“So, why this place?”
Rhiannon pondered his question for a moment and went ahead, walking deeper into the bowels of this concrete building. The rapping of her boot’s heels reverberated with a headache-inducing loudness. Josh sped up his pace until he caught up and walked by her side, shining the light on his shotgun down the corridor.
“Do you believe in the supernatural?” she asked.
“Can’t say I really—nah.”
She shone her flashlight into his face and caused him to wince and blink, then he shot her a dirty look.
“Lemme give you a crash course in ritual magick and symbolic tension,” she said. “Whether you believe in it having any real effect or not, a common principle underlying all magick is that specific associations give it its power.”
Without the constant cold breeze outside, it almost felt warmer in this corridor, gently sloping down beneath their feet. A strange smell in the air made Rhiannon’s nostrils flare. It reminded her of stale sweat, like the locker rooms in Evergreen High.
“Sorry, I think you lost me there.”
The echoes of water dripping mingled with the sounds of them walking through the corridor.
“Well, to use some cliché examples, think of things like—I don’t know—a virgin’s blood. It represents purity and youth, so occultists would try using it in rituals or potions meant to cleanse or rejuvenate. Or, take ravens. They’re carrion birds and associated with death, so it wasn’t uncommon for some mystics to rattle around some raven bones and throw them like dice to read the emerging patterns—to make sense of what ghosts were trying to tell them.”
“Oh. Okay, I think I get what you mean.”
They reached the end of the tunnel as it opened up into the yawning darkness of a larger hall, wide enough that the light from their flashlights barely reached the opposite end. A padlocked fence stopped them from progressing, but beyond that was a metal ladder descending onto a concrete walkway that circled around a pool of water in the hall’s center.
Another tunnel at the end of the hall beckoned her in this darkness. It called out to her, luring her in with promises of answers—and warning her of terrible danger that crept in its depths.
Josh fumbled with a key ring and unlocked the fence so they could step closer to the ladder.
Rhiannon asked without expecting an answer, “So what’s this reservoir in terms of symbolic tension?”
“The lifeblood of the town,” Josh said before she could answer her own question. Better than what she had had in mind.
She shot him another glance without shining the light at him, surprised and impressed by how quickly he had caught on.
“That’s why symbols translating to ‘sleep’ and 'obey’ should be all the more concerning,” she said. “Because it really gives off a vibe of—”
“Poisoning the well.”
Their gazes met for a few moments, a twinkle of recognition in them. Rhiannon began to worry again if he had not in fact been playing dumb up until now. If anybody was secretly part of some cult controlling the town, who better than one of its lawmen to cover things up?
“Yeah.”
The water sloshed at the end of the hall. Both Rhiannon and Josh jerked their lights around and trained them on the source of the sound. The surface rippled with motion; something had moved there.
“Hello? Deputy Joshua Halloway, here. I’m gonna need you to identify yourself.”
Rhiannon’s heart pounded so hard against the inside of her rib cage that she wondered if Josh could hear it. They stared in anticipation of an answer, but deep down she knew that there would be no reply.
A cold sweat broke out underneath her jacket and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and even deeper down she knew exactly that there was nobody there.
She had to know. She had to get to the bottom of all of this for her friends. And for Harry. She owed it to her best friend—her dead friend.
She bit onto the flashlight and started climbing down the ladder.
Josh hissed, “Hey, where do you—what do you think—are you nuts?”
Rhiannon continued down until she took first careful steps onto the narrow walkway around the pool. The ripples had subsided and the water’s surface had calmed again.
Josh swore out loud and followed her down the ladder. “Hold up. I don’t know how I’m gonna explain any of this if anything happens to you down here.”
Rhiannon’s mind kept circling back and forth between the worry of what might be lurking in these watery tunnels and whether or not Josh might be part of the cult—that she was far removed from any help should he be ready to use that gun on her. She began to regret not taking the switchblade Danielle had offered her when they had met today.
Arriving at the bottom of the ladder, Josh called out into the oppressive darkness again, “Hello?”
Rhiannon thought she heard a distant scratching sound, so faint that she struggled to believe it had been real. But the glance that she and Josh exchanged told her that it was not just her imagination.
“You should stay behind me,” he whispered to her.
Part of her wanted to object out of habit, but she conceded, feeling somewhat relieved at the offer. Josh was a full head taller and armed, appeared to still be in as good shape as he used to be in his youth, and having him walk in front of her not only meant that he could fend off whoever might be lurking down here, but also suggested he wasn’t going to shoot her in the back.
Taking care not to fall into the pool, he used caution to side-step around Rhiannon while facing her. The walkway was so narrow that he brushed past her, causing her to feel his breath against her forehead and the fabric of their jackets to rustle.
Feeling a bit ashamed, heat shot into her cheeks but he had already gone ahead of her and luckily could not witness her turn red in the face.
Advancing steps ahead, he peered over his shoulder and nodded to her, “I’ve seen a map of the tunnels here. Please stay close—this place turns into a fucking maze in no time.”
Rhiannon affirmed that with a subtle sound from behind lips tightly pressed together, and snapped out of her brief daze. She sped up until she was within arm’s reach of Josh again.
They ended up both shining their lights onto an arrow, drawn onto the wall with white chalk. It pointed down a side-tunnel that branched off to their left.
“You think that's—”
“Yeah,” she interrupted him. “Just—just a feeling.”
Josh continued on, nudging with his foot a metal grate that crossed over the water, connecting the walkways on both sides. Once he seemed satisfied, he walked across it and Rhiannon followed.
Without turning around, he asked, “How do you know so much about occult stuff?”
She decided against freaking him out. Dumping the whole truth-bomb on him just seemed counterproductive at this point.
“I studied a lot of books on the matter in my free time.”
“And what do you do for a living, if I may ask?”
“You may not.”
He stopped and she almost bumped into him. Josh looked back at her, his face contorted with confusion. She grinned from ear to ear.
“Kidding,” she said and dropped the grin, immediately tired at the thought that followed, and she added, “I work two retail jobs.”
“Oh,” Josh said, the disappointment in his voice dragging his tone down. “You were so good in school, I thought—”
“Nah, but the rest of the Losers Club turned out way better than me.”
Her emphasis on that moniker, “Losers Club,” forced a shadow to pass over his face. He broke eye contact to stare into the water between the walkways.
“Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we used to be such shitheads to you back in high school.”
Rhiannon cringed a bit at some unpleasant memories welling up and batted them down the second they arose.
“Let’s not dwell on it.”
They continued on in silence, though unnerving sounds echoed through the tunnels, drowning in the atmosphere of water trickling and flowing and dripping everywhere. A scratch here, a snapping sound there; it became hard to focus on any single source of noise.
Josh chuckled, “Probably just rodents or cats or whatnot down here. Nothing to be afraid of.”
He had said it all with such a flatness that it exuded no confidence whatsoever.
“Who said I’m afraid?”
She had meant to say that jokingly, but blurted it out with a sharpness that either came across as offended or on edge.
“I think I’m mostly speakin’ to myself. This place is givin’ me the creeps,” he admitted.
Rhiannon said with some song in her voice, “Nothing bad ever happened in dark tunnels filled with water.” She hoped that taking things with humor would dispel the tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around her lungs, clamping down and shortening each breath she took.
“Yeah, you’d think there’d be more horror movies about this, huh?”
After both their nervous chuckles died down, the eerie ambient of the water tunnels engulfed them once more, underlined by the echoing strikes of their feet against the concrete ledges. They continued on, discovering more arrows drawn with white chalk. And following them.
Like lab rats.
“So, you said you saw a map of this place—”
“Been years, though. We were supposed to go looking for a lost kid down here, but it turned out to be a prank. Brat had been home all along, just when I had started studying the map.”
“How big is this place?” Rhiannon asked, emphasizing it with a degree of disbelief, as she felt lost despite the arrows they had been following.
“Huge. Ridiculously huge. Spans the entire town.”
“What?”
“Yeah, like a network parallel to the sewer system.”
“Shouldn’t it just be, like, pipelines?”
“You’d think so, but this place was built really early on when the town was founded. Eighteen-hundred-something. Iron shortage made them get creative back then. Only reason it’s the way it is now is because they insisted on maintaining the tunnels and renovating them with concrete.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Book on the town’s history, in the local library.”
“Look who’s the bookworm now,” Rhiannon quipped.
“There’s not a lot to—”
The sentence died in Josh’s mouth and both of them froze. Something sloshed through the water. The echoes of splashing and gurgling came from everywhere, bouncing off the walls. Both of their flashlights frantically flitted about, trying to spot anything ahead of them.
When they shone their lights behind them, Rhiannon gasped. Both shaking cones transfixed on something black, hairy, and wet, sticking a few inches out of the stream of water. She could not tell what she was looking at.
Only that a set of pitch-black eyes stared back at them. Water bubbled in front of it, as if the thing was exhaling underwater.
It drifted closer, and Rhiannon backed up, bumping into Josh. He pushed past her and aimed his gun at the thing in the water.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.
The water exploded and something huge leapt from it at them. Rhiannon’s ears rang and her mind only retroactively registered the deafening shot Josh had fired, the disgusting wet sound it had caused on impact, and the horrific growl that this creature emitted.
Josh yelled—first in anger, then howling in pain. His foot slipped into the water and with a splash, he crashed into the cold wet. The thing followed and they began thrashing in the water, splashing and spraying Rhiannon.
An awful stench permeated the air, reeking of garbage left out on a sunny day or the smell of vomit that Rhiannon came to associate with an eating disorder she hoped to have put behind her.
Terror paralyzed her. She wanted to help Josh, but pictured being ripped apart the moment she sank into the water. She wanted to run away, but could not abandon him.
He sputtered and clung to the walkway for a split second before something pulled him under, then he bobbed back up. His forehead had turned dark—with blood? He gasped and shouted something incomprehensible. Then she winced at the click-clack of the shotgun being pumped, and covered her ears before the next loud bang erupted in the tunnels.
This time, the creature howled, gurgled, and submerged again. Rhiannon’s light danced all over the place, trying to make out what she was seeing. Coming to her senses, she found the clarity to bite down on the light again and grab onto Josh’s arm with both her hands, helping him clamber back out of the water and onto the walkway.
That thing—did it have a beak? More than four limbs? Was it really covered in hair, or in feathers? She stared more at the cold darkness where she had last seen it disappear than she did at Josh, curling her fingers into his jacket.
“Are you okay?” she asked him, without even giving him a look.
He brushed her off and swiveled with the gun pointing it back and forth and looking for any motion in the water.
From the corner of her eye, she now noticed that his jacket was torn—shredded—and dark red liquid slowly pulsed its way out of it. A crimson sheen coated the left side of his face. Whatever pain he must have been in, the adrenaline pumping through his veins had to be masking it.
The water bubbled, this time several steps away. Something slimy and hairy and pitch-black rose from it again, like a panther rearing back to pounce.
“Run,” Josh said. Then he repeated it as a shout, booming with authority.
Survival instinct kicked in, pumping that adrenaline and driving her to dash and jog and stumble and run away. She gripped a corner, scraping her palm on the rough cement, turning down into another tunnel, the metal grate underneath her boots clanking as she crossed to another walkway, always following the white chalk-mark arrows until she passed multiple branches without any further markings.
With the drum of her heartbeat blotting out most minor noises and her will to live stamping out every other thought, Rhiannon failed to realize how long she had been escaping without ever looking back to see what had happened to Josh. Which she did now, stopping to catch her breath and look behind her.
Just in time for another loud gunshot to echo through the tunnels, prompting her to continue running.
The darkness continued to swallow the light wherever she shone it ahead, never revealing any end to these endless corridors. That is, until she recognized the zigzag of steps; a set of stairs that led upwards. Waves of relief washed over her as she discovered an end to this tunnel. An escape.
The walkways on both sides just ended here, connecting and giving a few paces of space before the stairs began.
She jogged up the steps, heart still pounding and her lungs aching for oxygen.
Every sense of relief died instantly and the despair of helplessness made her body tremble as she stepped deeper into this room. It was empty and without windows or exits.
A dead end.
The whole place reeked of mold. As she scanned it with her flashlight, she found it was not completely empty. An odd assortment of metal objects were arranged in a perfect circle on the floor in this room’s center. An old lighter, mirror, pocket watch, knife, nails, screws, and other items caked in dust and in varying stages of rust and decay.
In their midst stood a pile of dust. Or ashes. As Rhiannon took a cautious step towards this circle, she knew in her gut that it was the product of some occult ritual. It all rang a bell—a really distant bell, like she had seen it before—but a bell not loud enough for her to recognize its meaning.
Next to the circle was a tiny crumpled up box. She nudged it with the tip of her boot and it flipped over, allowing her to read some letters despite the dust and grime obscuring them. Her mind filled in the masked letters and it spelled: Valium Diazepam.
Still breathing heavily from running all this way, the pile of dust dispersed once she had reached the edge of the circle, scattering in all directions like a tiny black cloud trying to flee. The urge to sneeze tickled her nose but she suppressed it, dreading the thought of that thing—that creature—hearing her here.
Water sloshed.
Rhiannon froze.
Water sloshed again, coming from behind her. From the tunnel she had just come from.
But closer, now.
With haste, she grabbed the rusty knife off the ground and switched off her flashlight, inching back towards the wall next to the entrance to this dead end room.
She waited there, expecting more sounds to reveal the creature approaching, though nothing came. She held her breath, causing her lungs to rebel and her nostrils to flare even more desperately for air than they had during her run.
Her eyes never adjusted to the blanket of shadows that enveloped her. Because there was no light whatsoever. She could only see the spots she would see when closing her eyes. It dawned on her that she had never found herself in such a pure darkness.
Water sloshed and something big and heavy emerged from it. Dripping, slapping, scraping, and thumping. And that foul stench of vomit was back, wafting up those stairs.
The thing waited. If it needed to breathe, it made no such sound. Instead, water continued to drip from its massive body. Rhiannon’s mind struggled to see it as something hairy or feathered. Something standing on hind legs or on all fours.
It growled.
With wet sounds like bags of meat slapping down onto the concrete steps, it began climbing the stairs. On all fours. Or six limbs?
Rhiannon’s lungs screamed and she felt like her chest was about to explode.
The thing moved right next to her and stopped, blocking her only way out. Water continued to drip and she fought the urge to throw up. However awful it had smelled before, up close was even worse. She could taste the bile coming up and hoped it could not hear a peep as her body convulsed with the motions that heralded retching.
“Rhiannon?” shouted Josh from the tunnels. The pitch made him sound terrified and desperate—and hurt.
Beside her, something scraped against the ground, like claws. Long, sharp claws. The thing turned and left, going back down the stairs with ferocious and unexpected speed, scratching and growling and then splashing back into the water inside the tunnel.
Finally, she allowed herself to breathe again, though the fear strangled it, making each intake short and flat and rendering her lightheaded.
She waited, still trying her best to control her breath, listening out for anything. Anything at all. But other than the sounds of water dripping and flowing down the tunnel, she heard neither sign of the creature nor of Josh.
Rhiannon decided to hold onto the knife for now, and blindly groped her way along the wall, too afraid to switch her light back on. She stuffed Josh’s flashlight into her pocket and used her empty hand to find her way by sense of touch, in fear of the knife’s blade scraping against the walls and attracting the creature to her location.
She descended the stairs and returned to the tunnel, continuing on without seeing where she was going.
She reminded herself to keep going right until she found her way back out. The solution to any maze. At a snail’s pace, she went on like this for minutes that felt like hours. Every second felt like an eternity, every moment dilated by her imagination of the creature’s sudden return.
Every now and then, she stopped and listened. Every drip of water made her body stiffen with fear, expecting a flurry of them to follow as a sign of the creature climbing back out of the water to attack her.
But nothing came.
“Rhiannon?” Josh whispered from the darkness.
Her fingers trembled until they connected with his and he gripped her hand. Icy cold, colder than her own. Cold like death. She gripped it harder and was never happier to hold anybody’s hand than now.
“Thank God you’re alright,” he said in an exasperated sigh. “I think I know where we are. The hospital’s gotta be above us here somewhere, and—a ladder.”
He tugged—a gentle tug. They snuck through the tunnels without light.
The space between their hands was wet and it took minutes for Rhiannon to realize that it was not the residue of cold water on Josh’s skin, but something warmer. And sticky.
His grip weakened.
—Submitted by Wratts
#spoospasu#spookyspaghettisundae#horror#short story#writing#my writing#literature#spooky#fiction#submission#Evergreen#Reunion#Rhiannon#Josh#reservoir#water#cold#snow#isolation#forest#magick#cult#occult#ritual#mystic#mystery#creature#monster#demon#thing
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