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jaembby · 3 years

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christmas kisses

pairing: johnny suh x gener neutral!reader (featuring NCT 127)

genre: fluff, christmas party!au, suggestive

word count: 2.2k

desc: merry christmas!! to my readers, I bring you the gift of a johnny suh x y/n fluff! hope you enjoy the story and have a great christmas!! love you all <3

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“But Hyuck, are you sure I’m allowed to come?? I mean, it’s your friend group’s Christmas party... I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“Oh shush, the boys love you and you hang with us enough that we basically consider you to be in our group anyways. Besides, there will be some of the guys’ other friends there so you won’t be the only one... and Johnny’s definitely going to be there. Who knows what’ll happen,” your best friend, Haechan, said with a wink and a (very suspicious) smirk. It’s times like these where you regret telling Haechan about your very big crush on the one and only Johnny J Suh, especially when he brings you along to outings like this and makes it a little too obvious that he’s trying to get the two of you together.

“Fine, I’ll go,”

“Go shower while I get your outfit ready, smelly,” Haechan says before shoving you into your bathroom and going towards your bedroom to pick out something for you to wear.

Once you were ready, Hyuck drove you back to his place so he could change.

“Hurry up! The party starts in like 20 minutes!” You shout at Haechan, noticing how little time you have to arrive at Yuta’s house which is where the party’s being held.

“Excited are we? Can’t wait to see a certain someone?” Hyuck laughs as he walks out of his room with and grabs his car keys.

“Hey! You forced me to come to this thing! It’s rude to be late... not that you’d know what manners are,” you manage to say before your best friend shoves you out of his apartment, quickly following behind.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he says as he gets into the driver’s seat of his car and passes you the aux cord.

The drive to Yuta’s was a quick one and you somehow managed to get to his place 10 minutes early. As you entered the house, you were greeted with the smell of cookies... probably Taeyong’s doing.

You wandered further into the house and were greeted with Yuta, Jaehyun, Doyoung and Jungwoo setting up a beer pong table and other games while Taeil, Winwin and Johnny got a bunch of Christmas movies ready for whenever the group of you decided to watch them. You turned to ask Haechan what you should do to help set up, only to find him missing.

You looked over to your left, towards the kitchen and saw your best friend and Mark already having a drinking competition with a flour-covered Taeyong attempting (but failing) to stop the two boys.

“Y/n!” you turned around at the sudden call of your name, seeing Taeil, Johnny and Winwin waving you over.

You walked over to the trio and greeted them before helping them pick between the new animated version of The Grinch or the traditional one. Personally, you thought the animated version was better because it was funnier and had a pretty good soundtrack, so when the boys asked you to pick between the two (because they couldn’t make up their minds), that’s the one you chose.

“See! I told you the new one’s better!” Johnny all but shouted as Taeil rolled his eyes, attempting to hide a smile.

“Yeah, okay.” The older male said before crossing out the traditional Grinch from the list of movies.

“I mean, we could watch both,” Winwin said, not seeing why Johnny and Taeil were arguing over which one when there’s plenty of time to watch both movies.

“If we’re not all passed out and drunk by the end of this, then yeah maybe there would be time to watch both,” Johnny noted, amused at the thought of what would happen if the group watched The Grinch while drunk off their heads. You giggled at the idea, too.

“What are you laughing at, missy/mister?” Johnny asked as he nudged your arm lightly.

“Oh, nothing,” you replied, your cheeks heating up slightly at the nickname.

“Okay, whatever you say,” He said before grabbing your hand and leading you towards the kitchen where Haechan and Mark were making stupid bets with each other, already slightly tipsy.

“Johnny, y/n, let’s see who can down their shot the fastest!” Mark spoke, passing shot glasses for Taeyong to fill.

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea, the party only just started-”

“shh,” you were cut off by Johnny, “come on, it’s just one shot,” he said as he grabbed his glass from Taeyong (who had now decided to watch over Mark and Haechan’s games and be the “judge” to make sure nothing ended badly) and passed another glass to you.

“Okay, ready? 3, 2, 1, drink.” at this, the four of you downed your shots with Johnny coming in first place, Haechan coming second and you coming third. Mark was disqualified as the majority of his drink missed his mouth, leaving a mess over the already sticky kitchen.

“Let’s play again!” Haechan announced, upset with having come second to Johnny. The four of you continued another few rounds until you and Johnny were just a bit tipsy and Haechan and Mark were barely able to walk straight.

“That’s enough, guys. Time to find something else to do,” Taeyong said, not wanting to clean more messes right at this moment.

“You five! Come play games with us!” a tipsy Jaehyun shouted as he stumbled into the kitchen before leading you all to where he and the others had set up games.

Jaeyhun had roped you into playing beer pong (you sat out and watched because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself) followed by a few games of truth or dare.

“y/n, truth or dare?” a pretty drunk Jungwoo had asked.

“truth,” you replied, knowing Jungwoo’s truths were usually not as bad as his dares... usually.

“Who out of this group would you let give you a hickey?” Shit. Everyone (who was still conscious) snapped their heads towards you as Jungwoo asked this, anticipating your answer. There’s only one person you’d let give you hickeys but if you say his name, the others will know. He probably doesn’t even like you back! It could ruin your whole friendship.

Then again, maybe you’re overthinking it. You only live once, so why not take a risk? The other boys are drunk as shit from all of the previous games anyway so they wouldn’t remember this in the morning. So, with the liquid courage in your system, you answered.

“Johnny,” You breathed, barely loud enough for the others to hear. A silence hung in the air for a few moments before Haechan decided it was time for him to pass out, falling dramatically in the process. By now, the guests had headed home which left only Haechan’s (which is now also yours) friend group and you, half of whom were unconscious, sprawled out across couches and the floor in the living room of Yuta’s house.

“I think we should clean up,” Taeyong said, noticing the rest of the boys dropping like flies and the mess that everyone had left around the house. Even when drunk (although not as wasted as others), Taeyong was sensible. Taeyong got up, followed by Doyoung, and headed to the kitchen to start cleaning the sticky mess of different alcoholic drinks spilled across counters, leaving you with a sleeping Haechan, Mark, Winwin, Yuta and Jungwoo, a concerningly drunk Jaehyun and Taeil and a surprisingly not too drunk Johnny, who was staring at you from your confession moments prior.

You decided that the awkward silence was too much for your tipsy brain (and so were Johnny’s stares) so you made up your mind to put on a movie for the drunk Jaehyun and Taeil, then sat them on the couch so that they can’t do anything stupid.

“Jaehyun, Taeil, let’s go watch a movie,” you said, grabbing both boys by the arm and pulling them up. You took them over to the couches that weren’t occupied and sat them down, taking a seat beside Taeil and playing whatever movie came on first.

You stayed like that with the two boys for about 10 minutes before Johnny decided to come in, too.

“Why wasn’t I invited, y/n?” He asked with a pout.

“I’m stopping these two from doing anything stupid,” you replied, scared that if you take your eyes off the screen to look at Johnny, you won't be able to look away from the handsome man.

He hummed at your answer and took a seat beside you, the four of you now quite squashed together on the couch.

“What do you say I take you up on your offer?” Johnny asks out of nowhere, leaving you confused.

“What offer?”

“This one,” Johnny turns towards you and places a gentle kiss to your neck before lightly sucking on the spot. If you were thinking clearly, you would’ve tensed up and become a shy mess, but you weren’t. You turned slightly to face the tall man beside you and craned your neck to give him more access when he started sucking harder, gently biting the skin before placing a soft wet kiss on the mark he’d just created.

When Johnny found your sweet spot, you couldn’t help but let a small whimper of pleasure escape your lips. Your eyes darted to the two drunk men on the other side of you, thankful that they had passed out, before focusing back on johnny and the love bites that he was leaving all over you.

“Please, Johnny,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at this point. The only thing you knew was that you didn’t want Johnny to stop.

“You look so pretty, prince/ss. My marks all over your soft skin,” He hummed back before going to suck harshly on your sweet spot again.

“C’mere,” Johnny mumbled and grabbed your legs, pulling you into his lap.

Out of nowhere, Johnny stopped his attack on your neck and moved to attack your lips instead, cupping your face with one hand and your back with the other.

He let his tongue glide across your bottom lip, asking gently for permission. You obliged and let him in to explore your mouth while your tongues clashed and needily fought for dominance.

“Yo dude!” A voice came from behind the two of you. Mark, you realized, had just gained consciousness (although he looked like he was about to drop again any minute) and had witnessed you and Johnny’s little make-out session just now.

“Fuck this, I’m going to bed before you two start fucking.” The drunk boy said, jogging to a guest room in Yuta’s house.

“Maybe we should stop,” you suggested, worried about the others getting up and finding you two making out and worried about things going too far.

“We should probably clean up a bit, seeing as everyone else’s out cold and no one’s going to want to clean with a hangover tomorrow,” You suggested.

“Yeah, we probably should. Good thinking, doll,” Johnny said before pecking your lips as you moved to get up.

The two of you cleaned the mess of Yuta’s house and soon enough, apart from the drunk bodies of your friends, the house was (almost) back to the way it was before you arrived.

“A job well done I’d say, prince/ss,” Johnny announced proudly as he walked up behind you and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek (which made you blush but we won’t talk about that).

You hummed in agreement before letting out a yawn, feeling tired after a night of partying.

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Johnny said as he grabbed your hand, leading you towards a spare room in the house.

You would just stay in the room that Haechan usually stays in and Johnny would stay in the one next to it.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly to Johnny.

“Pleasure’s all mine, baby,” he replied, admiring your flustered face.

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, not daring to separate your gazes, hands held comfortably.

“One last kiss for tonight?” Johnny asked, noticing the mistletoe above your heads.

You hummed before leaning up towards the pretty boy’s face, your hands moving to the back of his neck while his moved to hold you close, one hand on your waist and one on the small of your back.

The kiss wasn’t as needy as the one you had previously shared. This one was gentle, loving, full of care. It was your lips meeting his soft ones in a way where nothing needed to be said, all of your feelings being displayed with each movement.

Even after pulling away, Johnny held you close and kept your gaze as you moved one hand to rest on his chest and the other resting on his upper arm.

“By the way, Haechan had already told me,” He said, snapping you out of your trance.

“About what?” you questioned.

“Your little crush,” He replied with a smirk, making you blush and look away.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute. I like you too, y/n. I thought I’d been making it too obvious,” Johnny laughed.

“Really?” you had no idea that he felt the same.

“Really,” he confirmed.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,”

“Merry Christmas, Johnny,”

“Goodnight, prince/ss,” Johnny pulled you closer to him and placed a lingering soft kiss to your forehead before returning to his own room as you went into yours, unable to stop the butterflies from flying around in your stomach and warmth spreading throughout your chest.

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patriciasage · 3 years

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i’ll cover you

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairing: Duck Newton/Indrid Cold

Summary:

Duck’s not wearing his helmet.

That’s the thought that enters Aubrey’s mind as Duck flies through the air and into the side of the barn. He crashes through the painted wood and lands in a cloud of dust and hay.

[posted in full under the break but you can find me on AO3]

Duck’s not wearing his helmet.

That’s the thought that enters Aubrey’s mind as Duck flies through the air and into the side of the barn. He crashes through the painted wood and lands in a cloud of dust and hay.

“Duck!” Aubrey yells. Her friend answers with a groan and a cough. Aubrey feels a mixture of relief and concern; he’s alive, but he doesn’t sound great.

The abomination, an unsettling beast with many limbs and many, sharp teeth, moves to pounce through the hole in the wall. Aubrey’s about to blast it with flame but something beats her to the magical punch.

The Mothman crashes into the abomination and the two of them break a huge tree trunk in half with their impact. “Timber!” Ned shouts. He and Aubrey avoid the tree as it hits the ground. They make eye contact over the fallen log. “I was under the impression that Indrid would rather not engage in combat,” Ned says. Aubrey shrugs. She spies gleaming red in in the grass nearby and pockets Indrid’s glasses. They run toward the sounds of a monstrous scuffle.

This outing was meant to be reconnaissance only. The Pine Guard trio had brought Indrid just in case his visions could give them some clues. Instead of a peaceful investigation of Mrs. Rahimi’s acreage, they found the source. The abomination is a horrifying approximation of a creature. In the setting sun, they had seen it consuming one of the cows with a huge mouth and way too many limbs. It noticed them before they could retreat.

Indrid had stepped back, alarmed. “I’m not – I didn't see it until - I don’t have a weapon!”

Duck had moved in front of him, Beacon drawn and gnashing for a fight. “S’alright, dear, we gotcha. Hang back.”

Indrid is done hanging back, it seems.

The Mothman is locked in a thrashing embrace with the abomination, slashing with his claws and stabbing with his pincers. His huge, dark wings are fluttering to balance him. The abomination has too many limbs for him to block, though, and he’s taking some hits.

“Shoot it, Ned!” Aubrey commands.

Ned lifts the NARF Blaster with a steady hand. Aubrey can see the apprehension in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a determined line under his beard. He pulls the trigger.

The abomination lets out a guttural sound and twists out of the Mothman’s grip. To everyone’s horror, it begins running toward the barn. “Shit!” Aubrey says, letting out a blast of fire that misses the creature and smoulders in the grass. Ned fires another foam bullet, but it only catches one of its legs. It barely slows.

The realization that Duck hasn’t emerged from the barn yet sits like a stone in Aubrey’s chest. The abomination is coming to finish him off. Aubrey and Ned are sprinting as fast as they can, but they know they won’t be able to catch it.

There’s a thunderous beating of wings as the Mothman swoops down from above and grabs the abomination. As he raises it into the air, it goes limp like a cat that’s been scooped up by its owner. But as they ascend higher it begins to struggle. Aubrey and Ned watch in awe as the Mothman’s huge wings carry the abomination up into the pink sky. “I can’t believe he can carry it,” Aubrey says, catching her breath. Next to her, Ned agrees. They crane their necks and follow the red dots of the Mothman’s eyes as he gets smaller and smaller.

The abomination is dropped from an incredible height. It falls, flailing, until it meets its gruesome end. Aubrey and Ned flinch as the creature is impaled on a nearby fencepost. “Ouch,” Aubrey mutters. The abomination doesn't move.

“Your precision is impressive –” Ned says as the Mothman lands, but he pushes past them without even a glance and dives through the hole in the barn’s wall. Ned and Aubrey follow, avoiding the splintered shards of wood around the opening.

There’s a horrible, suffocating moment when Duck doesn’t move, crumpled in a pile and covered in bloodstained hay. Aubrey nearly rips Ned’s shirtsleeve in her grip. But then the Mothman places a gentle, clawed hand on his hair, and Duck stirs with a groan. “Wha’ happened?” he mumbles.

“Dude, you gotta wear your helmet!” Aubrey says. When she moves forward, the Mothman whirls around, snarling, wings fully extended as a shield. Aubrey freezes, looking up into huge, red eyes and pincers dripping with the abomination’s blood. “H-hey now.”

Ned is at her side again, hands extended placatingly. “Friend Mothman, we mean no harm.”

Aubrey can barely see Duck behind the Mothman’s imposing form, but she hears him hiss in pain as he moves into a seated position. “You don’t gotta talk to him like –” He cuts himself off with a sigh. The Mothman deflates a little and she sees Duck clumsily stroking the feathers of his wings. “He’s still Indrid. He just got scared. But I’m alright.”

“With all due respect, Duck, you don’t look alright,” Ned says. It’s true. Duck is bleeding from a head wound and his shirt is stained red where the abomination pierced him in its grip. He’s holding his ribs gingerly.

“Yeah,” he rasps, “I should probably go to the hospital.” He gives the Mothman a final pat on the back with his free hand. “Come on, ‘Drid. Let them in.”

The Mothman moves aside, allowing Ned to move to Duck’s side. His wings are folded and twitching and he’s wringing his clawed hands together in a very human way. Aubrey attempts to shake off the instinctive fear that rises at the sight of his imposing insectoid form and approaches him. She takes his red glasses out of her pocket and offers them.

He puts his glasses on and he’s Indrid again, tall, skinny, and pale. Tears are streaming down his face. He looks pitiful and Aubrey considers her inability to distinguish fear from anger in his Sylph form.

Duck hears Indrid’s sniffles and turns from where he’s now propped against Ned’s side. “Oh, darlin’, come here,” he says, beckoning with the hand not currently wrapped around his friend. Indrid hurries over and collapses into a cautious but desperate hug. He wraps his long arms around Duck’s broad shoulders and buries his face in his neck.

Ned is an awkward yet sympathetic part of this embrace, and Aubrey nearly laughs at his expression. It’s kind of a strange third-wheel situation. She takes pity on him. “Alright, time to go, boys! We’ll have plenty of time for hugs and tears when Duck is snug in a hospital bed.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” Indrid says, wiping his nose on his cardigan as he pulls away.

They exit out the front door of the barn. Mrs. Rahimi is nowhere to be seen, thank God, and they make their way across the field to Ned’s car. Aubrey wants to comfort Indrid as they follow closely behind Ned and Duck, but she doesn’t know whether he would want his hand held by her. He’s stopped crying now, watching Duck attentively with a worried and protective expression. She decides to just ask. "Can I hold your hand?"

He starts a little when she speaks. She realizes he must be entirely focused on Duck's futures if he didn't predict her question. He thinks for a second, then answers in his soft-spoken, unsettling way. "Yes."

His hand is cold. They walk in silence for a while. “You did good,” Aubrey says.

He looks down at her for a moment. “I don’t even really remember what happened, if I’m being honest.”

“You made an abomination shish kebab is what happened.”

“Oh.”

The setting sun reflects off of Ned’s car. Aubrey sits in the passenger seat next to Ned while Indrid holds Duck tenderly to his side in the back seat.

Aubrey picks up Duck’s helmet from the floor and hands it to him. He flips her off with a crooked, tired smile. They drive to the hospital.

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rsbry-beret · 3 years

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Let’s See What a Fire Feels Like

find it on ao3 here :

Tobin and Leif go stargazing. Tobin listens to Leif talk about constellations. Tobin tries not to kiss him. Tobin almost succeeds.

- - - - -

It was a warm summer night, air cloying even through Tobin’s shirt, hoodie long abandoned on the blanket spread against damp grass.

“There’s the Summer Triangle, Tobes. Straight up.” Leif craned his head back, hands falling behind him to hold himself up. His left one landed on Tobin’s right, and he flipped his palm over to clasp Leif tighter.

“I see it, yeah.”

Leif glanced over his shoulder to Tobin, lips spreading into a thin smile. “The star on the lower left, that’s Deneb. It’s the tail of Cygnus, the swan constellation.” He turned his head back to the sky and Tobin leaned in, eyes following as Leif lifted his right hand to point.

Leif’s hand glided down slightly. “Cygnus flies south along the Milky Way. It’s right by Aquila… there, there it is. The eagle constellation.”

Tobin grinned to himself, gaze flickering between the stars and Leif’s face, open and expressive in a way it never was under harsh fluorescent lights. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It used to be right next to the Antinous constellation, but they got merged together a long time ago. Kinda sad…” Leif turned his head again, a few inches from Tobin’s face. Tobin grinned and made a vaguely inquisitive noise.

“Antinous… he was this guy who either drowned or was sacrificed.” Leif’s voice was quieter, eyes glancing at Tobin, the sky, Tobin again. “His lover, emperor Hadrian, was so devasted he named a city after him, Antinoöpolis,” Leif said.

Tobin swayed forward a little. “Oh.”

“And he made a statue of him. He minted coins with his face on him across the empire, and said he was a God, and he, uh, named a constellation after him.”

“So he could always be with him?”

“Yeah.” Leif’s voice rasped. He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Tobin squeezed Leif’s hand. “That’s pretty gay, Leif.”

Leif let out a big laugh and leaned back, hand leaving Tobin’s to push his hair off his forehead. “Yeah! Yeah, uh, they were pretty gay, Tobin.”

Tobin tried not to miss the warmth. It was warm enough, anyway. Summer. He fell onto his back with a sigh. “Hadrian, huh?”

“Yeah,” Leif said, still sitting up. “He, like, focused less on imperialism and more on unification within Rome? So that’s cool I guess. He started a cult, though.”

“Gay rights.”

“Tobin.”

He laughed and tilted his head up to look at Leif, who was trying to look scandalized but was failing.

“Nah, but really, Hadrian sucked. For a lot of reasons. Like, slavery, dude.”

“Shit, yeah.” Tobin sat up again to face Leif. “Antinous, though. He was cool?”

Leif shook his head, still smiling. “I dunno, Tobin. It was a long time ago. I only read so much of the Wikipedia article.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again. Tobin watched a mosquito flit around the edges of the frayed quilt they were sat on. “Hey, look,” he said, wrapping one arm around Leif’s waist and gesturing upwards with the other. “Orion’s Belt.”

Leif turned up, then to Tobin, eyes soft.

“See, I can be smart for you, too.”

Leif melted against his side. His hand came up to cup Tobin’s cheek. “Everyone knows Orion’s Belt, idiot.”

Tobin’s eyelids fluttered, and he swayed forward half an inch, leg jolting slightly closer. “Admit it, you were impressed.”

Leif pressed his face against Tobins shoulder and slid his hand back from his cheek to against his neck. “Was not.”

“Was too,” Tobin whispered, and tilted down to press his lips against Leif’s hair. Leif lifted his head at the action and stared.

“...Was not,” Leif repeated dumbly, and Tobin smiled, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

title from Cassiopeia by Sara Bareilles

#zep #tobin batra #coder boyfriends #leif donnelly #leif x tobin #zep fanfic #zep fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #coderbfs #batronnelly #tobin x leif #Rsbry’s jam #Rsbry’s fic

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catsnraincoats-archive · 3 years

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being friends with me is just "Haha crane flies." "would you want the address of my grave when I die" "what" "would you want to know which place I was in should I go to jail for murder" "dude are you okay" "Haha crane flies" "yeah crane flies haha"

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vintage-brass-tc · 3 years

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W highlight of 5/14/2021

Forgive how specific this is — I like adding imagery to my writing if you couldn’t tell already. ||||||||||||||||||||||||

When kids began to flood out of the classroom before the bell, I stood off of my seat to join them. Before I turned to grab my stuff which I set on my chair, I noticed something laying on the ground: A phone with an AirPod case resting on top of it. It sat directly next to one of the spots in front of my own, almost right against one of the seat’s back legs.

I realized the area was empty, with no band binder, music, backpacks, etcetera to be seen. After scanning the room for the one who I knew sat there, I decided to inform him about it. He was the only person I thought to approach, and the only person around me TO approach, so it was a win.

As I got closer to him, I took in his presence. Pretty soon, I won’t get the chance to see him like this as often anyway. I noted how concentrated he was. His eyes were locked on the screen in front of him, and his upper torso leaned towards the computer screen. He looked very comfortable on his chair yet so serious at the same time. His posture wasn’t the best.....but there’s no shame there.

I stopped maybe two feet away to his right, and he took a second to continue looking at his computer before (sort of) hesitantly turning over to me. We met eyes very quickly. His were serious and focused, with an intent to work. Seeing this, I figured he probably didn’t want any distractions.

Oh well. I matched his serious look and didn’t even try to smile— kind of like he would do sometimes in order to make his gaze burn into someone’s soul. Why did I do this? I don’t know, I guess I was just tired. I thought that finding out his reaction to receiving the look he often delivered would be pretty neat too.

I slightly leaned my head downwards to intensify the previously mentioned expression before starting to speak. “W, did [kid] leave already?” My voice came out lower than expected. Probably likely due to my head being leaned downwards. HAH that wasn’t planned. Sorry W.

He seemed to focus more on staring into my eyes and trying to match my expression over the fact that I was actually talking to him. From what I saw, he seemed the tiniest bit puzzled. Maybe it was because, based on my attitude, it kind of seemed like I had unfinished business with the kid I was asking about.

Soon he allowed himself to lose his more ‘intimidating’ look after a second. He then leaned forward, towards me, with a purely dumbfounded expression. “What..?” He questioned in a breathless whisper, cocking his head to his left.

I asked W again, but a bit louder this time. “Did [kid] leave the room yet...already?” After I asked, he craned his neck to look everywhere around me. A couple of moments later, he stopped this and returned his attention to me. “YEup.” “They left their phone and their AirPods...case...next to their chair,” I told him slowly and awkwardly, stepping back slightly so he could see it. After staring at it for a second, he shot up out of his seat. Right as he walked to the distance where our faces were five inches apart, he stated, “I’m gonna cape him.”

I laughed and cheered for him, jokingly. “Yeah!” I strolled slowly behind him as he strode over to the vacant spot I mentioned. “You’ll get a lot of money on EBay.” He twisted to turn his face in my direction before he squatted to pick the two items up and off the floor.

He remained in that stance near the ground for two seconds before swiftly turning and getting back up. “Noo,” he denied my statement playfully.

I’m not sure why he had turned his back away from me— but I’m grateful he didn’t make me look weird by having it appear as if I was eyeing his back while he got low. 😳 I mean, I probably would have, but it would have been weird seeing it as someone who was just walking into class or something.

Anyway, he got up and turned on the phone right away. I believe he put the AirPods in his left hand while he observed it. “Okay, smart phone kids,” he called out at a pretty loud volume to whoever would hear it. “How do you take a picture without turning the camera on?”

Many voices piped up. “Swipe right,” many of the voices yelled as two of the students came next to him to help him. “Swipe left,” I called. He and one of those kids near him swiped left and the camera screen pulled up. I walked closer behind him in case he was going to shoot a quick selfie and be done with it.

Instead, he suddenly pressed the option to flip the camera to selfie-mode and raised it up in the air. This caused a few of the kids to quickly head over, including me. “Everyone get close!!” He cheered, beaming ear to ear as I and around six other kids grouped up behind him.

Instead of pressing down the camera button to do some shutter shots, he pressed it repeatedly with his thumb at a pretty quick pace. While the tall dude stood happy and proud of what he was doing, the kids behind him were pushing against each other, equally happy, to try to get in the frame.

I got in around 3/4s of the photos he took, but I was in one of the corners for most of the time. Luckily, W moved the camera to the side slightly to fit me in there. That was very sweet of him.

While we were all there having a blast with exploiting this poor person’s storage, around thirty-something photos later we heard their voice.

“Stop—! NOOOO!!” They ran over to our group while the kids scattered like flies. I stood there, laughing, while he raised the phone in amusement while grinning, knowing the kid wouldn’t reach it. After one attempt at snatching it, he gave in and let the student have his stuff back.

W walked away after that as if nothing had just happened. I think he returned to his computer, but I’m not sure. All I remember after that is walking in the hall by that same kid. And to the avail of me and their peers, I watched them delete all the photos we took.

They never went to the ‘‘Recently Deleted’ section of their phone though. Maybe those pictures aren’t truly gone.

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YEAH ANYWAY that was the end of band class today. Fun, right? I sure thought it was. I never thought of W as someone who would play a joke like that on someone, but, after seeing it happen, he totally and obviously would.

Hope everyone has a great night and a great weekend. Stay safe!

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poweranon · 4 years

Text

Brian sighed as his heavy boots thudded against the wood floor, kicking the door shut behind him as he took off his gloves. Throwing them and his keys on the dish beside him, he dragged a hand through his hair, the other lifting above his head, back arching and bones popping as he stretched.

A loud thud from upstairs made him stop, looking over at the staircase with slitted eyes as another thud, quieter this time. Brian grabbed his prybar from beside the door, holding it at the ready as he crept closer to the staircase. (Y/N)’s car was here, but he hasn’t seen them yet and he was ready to attack if they were in danger.

There was more scuffling, shorts swears muttered from the room. Brian stood by the door, his back against the wall as he cranes his neck to peek around the cracked door, weapon at the ready, to see...

(Y/N), his beautiful, amazing, intelligent s/o, laying on the floor tangled up in fly tape. The sticky ribbon was wrapped around their face and stuck in their hair, the yellow substance smeared on the skin.

“God fucking damn it!” They exclaimed, wincing as the ribbon yanked at their hair. “Can’t fucking-“

Brian stood there, watching (Y/N) struggle to get themselves out of the trap they made for themselves, before starting to laugh. Dropping the pry-bar, he clutched at his stomach as he cackled. (Y/N) whipped around, looking like a deer caught in headlights when they saw him.

“Uuh... sup dude?” Brian was almost on the floor now.

“H-hey, it’s not that funny! I’m really stuck here, man!”

(Y/N) scowled at him, irritated at him for laughing instead of helping.

“How did you even fucking do this???” Brian stumbles over, still chuckling as he pulled out his pocket knife.

“I wanted the window open to air out the house because SOMEONE keeps forgetting to wipe off their bloody shoes before walking around the house,” they pointedly looked at him, which just made him laugh more before they continued. “But there was, like, a SHIT ton of flies that kept coming in, so I was gonna put up the tape to catch them. And then all of a sudden there was a lot of wind and I was stuck.”

Brian wound the last of the tape off, and stood up, tossing it into the trash before offering his hand to (Y/N) to help them up.

“I think, for now, you need to go take a shower.” (Y/N) nodded, frowning in disgust at the yellow funk on their skin. Brian day back on the balls of his feet.

“You know,” he said nonchalantly, “You should probably go ahead and strip and give me your clothes so I can wash them.”

(Y/N) rolled their eyes, pushing him back gently, making him catch himself on his hands.

“Down boy.”

#Brian Thomas #X reader #Brian x reader #Hoodie #Hoodie x reader #Brian Thomas x reader #Marble Hornets #Creepypasta #Slenderverse

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n: I hate but also kinda love that I know exactly what you guys are gonna comment this chapter 😑😆

By no means a warning but more ICONIC Momma Steve 💝 and no I could not resist leaning into it. I'm not sorry at all ✌ Also, there is a CRIMINALLY underappreciated Dustin moment near the end when he gets spit on by the spores, and yeah I just love Gaten. Thank you for making me laugh till my sides hurt, my dude ♡

||3rd Person POV||

The truck comes to a gradual halt before shutting down altogether. Hopper is the first to exit the car and is soon followed by El. Her heart plummets all the way down to her stomach when she gazes up at the building in front of her. All of her fears that had accumulated during the car ride over now manifest itself into a hole that swallows her up. In an instant, she's a prisoner again. A weapon.

[FLASHBACK]

The cat began snarling, and it quickly turned to whimpers of pain. Eleven was freely crying now as she looked between the frightened cat and Papa.

《•••》

Eleven struggles to break free from the men's hold as they carry her by her arms down, back into the room.

Sobs racked her body as she uses all her strength to turn and look back at Papa.

"Papa!" He steps out into the hallway and remains standing, doing nothing to help her, yet she still calls for him.

《•••》

Eleven's stomach sinks lower than she does as the platform she stands on descends into the tank. Her hands grip the rails tightly, knowingly her only connection tethering her to reality as she becomes one with the water.

《•••》

The very world begins to shatter around her as it collides with the Upside Down. All the while, she is still held captive in her mind, her body fights to be free and her arms bang furiously on the glass of the isolation tank.

Her horrified screams blend with the cracking of tile and asphalt as the lab begins to crumble.

[END OF FLASHBACK]

A thud rips her from her thoughts and she turns to find Hopper stepping away from the trunk, gun in hand. Her breathing is shallow but she manages to calm it for the time being. The screeches of the Demodogs ring continuously into the night, and Hopper scans the area.

"Alright," he assures, gesturing to the lab. "You let me do the heavy lifting up front, alright? You save your strength 'till we're below."

She does not answer, and Hopper knows it is not her usual silence. He sees her hesitant expression and feels a pang in his heart for her.

"You okay?"

Again, she does not answer. But her previously frightened gaze quickly molds into that of intense determination and she stalks off towards the lab with Hopper on her heels.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The first thing Steve notices as his brain begins to stir is the overwhelming amount of pain in his face and abdomen. There isn't a spot on his head that isn't throbbing, and as his face begins to twitch he notes his face is stained in blood that crusted and tightened his skin.

His hearing returns next and was that... sloshing he heard? He let out an involuntarily groan as he turned his head. His vision is still wildly out of focus but he swears he can make out the words, 'GASOLINE FILLER' on a large red canister. His vision worsens as he cranes his head up to look at the person holding it, and his brain tries desperately to make a connection.

"Nancy?"

Mike's brows knit together in an unsettled and puzzled frown as he looks at Steve unpleasantly.

Another groan escapes Steve as his head moves back to a more comfortable position, and shakily he struggles to bring a hand up to his face. He hisses in pain when he touches one of many injuries.

"No, don't touch it." Dustin's voice echoes several times in his ears.

He feels a hand gently pull his arm away from his face, and suddenly he's aware of an ice pack on his forehead. He turns his head the other way, still wincing in pain as every movement only intensifies the throbbing in his skull. Dustin sits beside him to his right, he realizes and in the back of his mind - the part that is still waking up - is trying to piece together where they all are right now.

Dustin smiles down at him.

"Hey, buddy..." he coos softly. "shh, shhh, shhh."

Steve tried to make sense of his surroundings and Dustin's words. His voice was echoing over his shushing and Steve tries desperately to listen.

"It's okay. You put up a good fight," a fight? Billy, he remembers. "He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight. You're okay, you're okay."

Steve grasps limply for the ice pack and takes it from Dustin as he tries to find his bearings. He hears another voice echo in his ears, still overlapping itself as his senses adjust.

"Okay, you're gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai."

It was Lucas. He was in the front seat. Wait, the front seat? It finally registers that he is in a car, but who the hell was driving?

Sluggishly, his head turns to the front seat, and who he finds only confuses him even more. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Hell, he sure hoped he was.

"Whas' goin on?" He slurs.

Max gripped the wheel nervously, she sits up a bit straighter than normal to see across the dashboard. Upon hearing his voice, she spares a moment to glance over her shoulder and studies his reaction.

"Oh, my god!" It comes out in a frightened chuckle and he begins shifting around.

"Steve," Dustin eases. "Just relax. She's driven before."

"Yeah, in a parking lot." Mike retorts in his other ear.

"That counts." Lucas defends.

"They were going to leave you behind," Dustin says irritably.

Steve is not listening to their jabber, the panic far too overwhelming. He's still shifting in his seat, unable to stop his squirming as he tries to process not only his current situation but the memories that continue to come flooding back from before he blacked out.

"Oh, my god."

"I promised that you'd be cool, okay?" Dustin says, trying again to soothe the young man.

"Oh, my god! Woah, woah, woah, woah. What's going on?"

Desperately he grasps at the shoulders of the two front seats as the car rapidly picks up speed. Max's foot presses harder on the small cardboard box on the gas pedal. The engine grows louder, and so do Steve's horrified screams.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah! NO! WHOA! StOp the car! SLOW down!"

"I told you he'd freak out," Mike snarls at Dustin.

"Stop the car~!"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Max roars. "I'm trying to focus!"

Lucas about jumps in his seat, his eyes grow wide and frantically he points just up ahead.

"Oh, wait, that's Mount Sinai! Make a left!"

"What?"

"Make. A. Left!"

"Shit" she mutters, jerking the wheel to the side.

The car hits a mailbox as it swerves to the other side of the road. Using the momentum, the car lurches to right as it swings a sharp left. Screams fill the car, and a tearful Steve clamors after Dustin. But eventually, the car redirects itself and they disappear down the road.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Three figures are sat around the still unconscious figure of Will, each of them already drenched with sweat. Much like themselves, hair clings to Will's forehead, and his clothes hold many dark stains of sweat. The temperature inside the cabin quickly began to climb thanks to the many space heaters and the full fireplace. Y/n sat waiting in the other room, her hands interwoven as she wrung them together.

Y/n feared things would escalate had she been one of the first people "Will" had seen. It was obvious the Mind Flayer was most threatened by her, hence her presence in what she could only guess to be El's bedroom.

She was going to wait. Only a bit longer. Not only was her strength still returning but she knew it would be a long and difficult process. She wanted to save her energy for when she needed it most. As it would seem, the wait would not be lasting much longer. Everyone's heads were picked up from the ground at the sound of a small gasp.

Her head whipped to the door, keeping her ears peeled. Will was definitely awake, she could hear his heavy breathing and she jumped to her feet nervously.

How would she do this?

Could she do this?

She only had so much practice.

Joyce's offer returns to mind, and immediately she dismisses the option of opting out. Y/n intended to keep her word, and her best friend.

Her motives are only confirmed when she hears Will begin to panic. It's not Will, she reminds herself.

But even that still manages to feel like a lie.

"What's happening?" She hears him pant fearfully. "It hurts."

Y/n hears shuffling, and she can picture him fighting against the restraints. Her mouth runs dry, and her throat sore as she hears the desperate and fearful cries of Will.

She knew this would not be easy, using her powers to this extent. But Y/n had been so worried about that, she forgot how painful it was to hear him in pain. And now she was going to be the one inflicting it.

"It hurts!" He screeches. "It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!"

At his bedside, Jonathan rises to his feet. His eyes widen at the sight of his little brother, and all pain he had felt previously inside the shed at home, was dwarfed in comparison to what he saw now before him. Jonathan's hand clasps tightly around his mother's.

Will was writhing on the bed, his face contorted in a terrified expression.

"Let me go! Let me go! It hurts!"

Now as Joyce stares at her son, he's more Mind Flayer than Will. Anger rises in her chest as she thinks of all the things this monster was ripping from her. All that he had ripped from her already.

What little happiness, peace, and sense of mind she had managed to scrape together after the prior year.

And it had already taken Bob. She wouldn't let him take Will too. With a determined glare, she throws her head over her shoulder at El's door calling out in a growl.

"It's time!"

Will's attention flies to the door, and for a moment, whips frantically between it and his mother confused. But his limbs still move, and he does not stop screaming.

"What's going on?! What's going on?! What's going on?!"

The lights flicker as they did in the shed, and when his eyes fall on the doorframe, every ounce of panic inside is multiplied and his struggle only intensifies.

"NO! NO! GO AWAY! NO! GET THE HELL OUT!" He screams. "GET OUT! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

Y/n steps into view, her face hardened, fists clenched and chest heaving in shallow, nervous breaths. Her eyes are locked on Will and already, two or three spidery veins begin to appear around her eyes. They're faint, and hard to see without the thick layer of sweat illuminating her s/c skin and accentuating the usual faint bumps and indents of her strain.

"GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

She has joined Joyce's side, unaware heat has already begun radiating off of her tightly clenched fists. Her eyes are locked on Will's, and the closer she gets the more frantic he becomes.

The more frantic the Mind Flayer becomes.

The lights continue to flicker, and her breathing grows more shallow. Shakily, one hand rises out and her hardened expression cracks when Will's eyes go wide. His legs kick even faster, and using the restraints around his wrists he tries to pull himself as far away as he can from her.

"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! NO! NO! ENOUGH! STOP IT!"

Y/n hesitates, only briefly to lock eyes with the others and her gaze lands on Joyce. Joyce's lip is curled up in a furious pout, and she nods determined, giving the okay. Y/n turns her head to look back at Will, shuffling on her feet only briefly, and out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Joyce crank up the heat on the space heaters.

"Mom," Jonathan whimpers.

Jonathan looks on in terror at Will's reaction as Joyce circles the room, reaching every heater. She calls out in protest, shouting out encouragement to Y/n. His unease and pain grows with every second until he can no longer bear it. He whirls around on his heel and into Nancy's arms. Sobs rack his body as he weeps into Nancy's shoulder. She is crying too, an equally disturbed look fixed on her face as she cradles Jonathan close.

Y/n, all the while, takes a deep breath, trying desperately to tune out his horrifying screams and her eyes flutter closed. And while it wounds her greatly to do so, she lets the sound of his pain fuel her anger and in no time she feels the heat coursing through her veins and into her fingertips.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The vicious roar of an engine booms across Merrill's Pumpkin Farm followed by the crunching of wood. The tires of Billy's hijacked car barrels over the welcome sign leaving it in pieces. After many moments, the car comes to a screeching halt when Max finds them at the large hole that had been dug.

The sudden halt throws each body forward, and a rather petrified Steve rockets back into his seat.

"WOAH HELlo!"

A large puff of air inflates his cheeks, enunciating - and hurting - his crooked nose.

Gasps of surprise and awe ripple throughout the car, including Mike.

"Incredible," he breathes.

"Told you." Her gaze remains fixed ahead, but she quirks a brow and rips the keys from the ignition. "Zoomer."

The party wastes no time climbing out, and heads straight for the trunk where they had placed their many supplies. Steve, meanwhile, kicks and squirms in the backseat not unlike a ladybug stuck on his back as he tries to find his balance. He was still horribly woozy but given the unfolding events with the unruly kids he had no choice. His hands find the edge of the car and he pulls himself out, his legs unable to catch him in time. His hands and knees find the ground and it knocks a groan loose.

As Steve pulls himself up on his feet, he looks on in worry at what he sees them doing. A variety of bandanas and goggles are pulled from the trunk and wrapped around their faces.

"Guys," he slurs, draping himself against the door and car. "Oh, no. Guys,"

His swollen eyes widen a bit when he sees a now completely masked Mike struts around to the front of the car with the canister and some rope.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

He neglects to answer, infuriating Steve even more and kneels before the front bumper.

"What are you, deaf? Hello?"

Max is the next to follow suit, once again engaging the panicking babysitter.

"We are not going down there right now," he orders, his pointing finger once again plummeting towards the ground. "I made myself clear!"

Max heads for the pit, and Mike fastens the rope to the car.

"Hey, there's no chance we're going to that hole, all right?!"

Lucas walks past him without a word or a glance in his direction and joins the others. Steve stumbles to the trunk where only Dustin remains, ripping what few things he holds and chucks them back into the trunk.

"Steve!" Dustin calls, tugging swiftly on Steve's sleeve to keep him from chasing after them. "you're upset, I get it. But the bottom line,"

One by one, with Mike in lead and rope in hand, the party marches to the bottom of the pit where the hole resides.

"a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance. Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe."

He reaches into the truck, pulling out Steve's backpack he had brought with him to the junkyard, complete with the spiked bat sticking out from the pouch. Dustin thrusts the backpack forward for Steve to take.

"So, keep us safe."

Steve glares at the kid, shaking his head with great distaste when a great sigh escapes.

He was cornered.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The drop is not as far as Steve had anticipated, but it still manages to take his breath away by the time he gets to the bottom. His mouth sits agape behind his new makeshift mask as he takes in the unusual setting he finds himself in. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"Holy shit," he breathes.

When the others had spoken of tunnels beneath Hawkins, he had a hard time picturing anything but a tightly packed space. With walls compacted of damp earth littered with the towns undergrowth that smelled of dirt. He certainly had not expected a vast shaft the size of an average hallway. Instead of dirt, all one could see was a wall woven out of hundreds of vines of varying sizes under a thick coat of slime. And as the beam of Dustin's flashlight dances in the air, Steve understands why the need for goggles and masks.

The air was heavier down there, and not in the sense that there was less of it seeing as they were underground. But it seemed... otherworldly. Everything felt heavier, even the gravity oddly enough. Steve was also quick to catch on to the thousands of little flakes that hung in the air around him.

The end of Mike's flashlight lands on the crudely drawn map of tunnels they had procured in their limited time.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's this way." His words are slightly muffled from his mask, and his flashlights shift down one end of the tunnel.

"You're pretty sure, or you're certain?" Dustin asks.

"I'm one hundred percent sure," Mike yells, whirling around. "Just follow me and you'll know."

Mike turns back around to start the journey, only to halt in tracks when Steve begins yelling at him.

"Woah, woah, woah. Hey, hey, hey, hey," Protests Steve, walking up to the boy.

Mike throws his arms out in frustration despite his full hands. "What?"

"I don't think so. Any of you little shits die down here, I'm gettin' the blame. Got it, dipshit?"

He rips the map out from Mike's grasp and turns to the others. "From here on out, I'm leading the way. Come on, let's go."

One by one like ducklings, they fall in line behind Steve and they disappear deep with tunnels.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Two sets of feet scurry through the halls of Hawkins lab, their steps light and quick. Hopper and El now find themselves in one of many stairwells, and Hopper remains in the lead, gun drawn. What they find does not ease their already troubled minds. A trail of blood paints the railing and floors, continuing around the corner and down the stairs. Their trip through the hallways has already been littered with dead bodies around every corner. The carnage left over from what the Demodogs didn't finish. But this looked more like a crime scene than an animal attack.

And Hopper had a sneaking suspicion the person responsible was nearby and near-death if they weren't already gone.

"Stay here," he orders softly.

The poor kid had already seen enough. He had better scope it out, he figures. Especially if one of those dogs was still around. Softly he descends the first set of steps, his grip growing tighter around the gun as he inches around the corner. The tension melts away altogether at what he sees on the next landing.

"Oh, shit," he gasps, immediately descending the stairs.

He discards the gun off his back as he kneels to the floor beside a dying Dr. Owens. "Hey, Doc,"

The man sits propped up against the wall, his face drained of color and he is stained with blood. On his chest, is a sizable gouge that has turned a portion of his white shirt crimson, and one pant leg is ripped open to reveal a tremendous gash on his lower thigh.

Hopper sighs as he examines the man's wounds. "Those suckers got you pretty good, huh?"

Weakly, the doctor begins to gesture through a pained look on his face, and he tries to speak through shallow breaths. Hopper shakes his head and pats the man's uninjured shoulder.

"It's okay, don't talk. Don't talk. I got you, I got you, I got you," he reassures.

The man had already lost too much blood and was only loosing more with every second. Hopper had to act fast, and he knew the quickest way to slow the bleeding was to cut off circulation. Quickly, Hopper undid his belt and began fastening it just above the wound.

He hesitated only once, and quite briefly when he saw a funny look cross Owens's face. He glances over his shoulder to see El had joined them and was now quietly observing. Hopper returns to his work.

"Oh, yeah," he grunts, looping the belt around the man's leg once more. "I've been meaning to tell ya'. This is Eleven. Eleven, Doc Owens. Doc Owens, Eleven."

He can't believe his eyes as she stands before him, one of two missing pieces at the very center of the conspiracy he had been tasked with protecting. He had heard of her of course, and Brenner, and the other kid the madman was obsessed with getting his hands on. But it was strange knowing - seeing - the proof staring him in the eye.

He doesn't blame her as she stares at him wearily, in truth her heart is pounding being so close to him. Another labcoat from this place was the last person she would trust. Yet she lingered, only because Hopper seemed to trust this guy. Somewhat it seemed.

"She's been staying with me for about a year," Hopper continues. "and she's about to save our asses."

His eyes land on Owens, and he makes sure the man knows it. His expression hardens.

"And maybe when all this is said and done, maybe you can help her out, too, you know? Maybe you could help her lead, like, a normal life."

Owens listens, his breathing still slow and shallow and his eyes return to the young girl watching intently. She's studying him with an unreadable expression, and it suddenly sinks in all the things she was capable of doing. But so do Hopper's next words.

"One where she's not poked and prodded and treated like some kind of lab rat, you know?"

"I don't know," A protective and hostile glare is sent Owens way in the form of a greatly exaggerated sarcastic smile. "just a thought."

He yanks the belt tight assuring the man understood his threat. He flinches in pain and lets out a small groan. Once the belt is tied, his right hand comes to rest on Owens' shoulder and gives it a harsh squeeze.

"But, uh..." Hopper throws one last spiteful, and knowing look at him. Reminding the man silently of all she was risking by doing this. "think about it."

He doesn't let go until Owens nods feverishly, and his expression softens when he detects sincerity in the man's eyes. Hopper reaches for his holster and pulls out his revolver.

"Don't go anywhere," he says, handing the man his gun.

Owens' chuckles weakly at the man's words and winces immediately in pain. But he nods nonetheless and Hopper rises to his feet knowing he has done all he can for the time being. El's soft and widened eyes meet with his briefly, and the two disappear down the stairs.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Their journey to the hub was a tense and dubious one, and it was far too easy to doubt one's sense of direction. It was a maze, with danger lurking around every corner. Consciously, they knew the Demodogs were called to the lab and would most likely remain there to protect the gate. But that didn't encourage a single one of them to let their guard down. After a while, when hope had just begun to dwindle, the tunnels began to blend together and they knew instantly they were close.

None of them were prepared for what they saw next.

"God," Lucas gasps.

Surrounding them were several engorged, purple spores that spit more flakes into the air around them.

"What is this place?" Max wondered aloud.

"Guys, come on." Steve orders, marching on. "Keep moving."

The party obeys, happy to get the task over. All except the last party member who lingers at the back. Dustin reaches the small alcove last as his friends continue on, his attention captured by one of many pods on the ceiling. Completely perplexed, he finds himself fixed on the odd plant as it begins to breathe.

"What the hell?" His mouth hangs open behind his mask in a small gasp.

The pod continues to grow in size while simultaneously shrinking in on itself. In seconds, it spews a fresh batch of spores directly into the boy's face, sending him into a panic. He collapses to the mucky ground in a screaming fit, and he writhes around for a moment as he tries to stumble to his feet. Finally, he finds his footing and runs after the others screaming and sputtering.

"Help! Help! Help!"

"Dustin!" Mike cries out.

The others have already turned around and made their way to him at fast as they can. All the while, Dustin sprints across the alcove before his face plants in the ground when his foot snags on a vine.

"Dustin!"

"Dustin?!"

They scramble around him, trying to get a good look at him to find out what went wrong when Steve roughly shoves them aside to check on the boy.

"What happened? What happened?!"

Dustin is now doubled over on his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering as high pitched screeches tumble out of his mouth.

"It's in my mouth! Some got in my mouth!" He takes a deep breath. "SHIIIIIIIT!"

The others watch as more coughs shake his body, and quickly he begins spitting in a desperate manner. Finally, he begins to calm and that is when he feels all eyes still watching him. He looks up at them slowly, panting as he comes down from his panic attack.

"I'm okay," he says softly.

Everyone lets out a sigh, both overwhelmingly relieved and frustrated. They do not skimp put on giving him a quick scolding.

"You serious?" Max hisses.

"Very funny, man," Steve grumbles, standing up and resuming the journey. "Nice. Very nice."

"Jesus. What an idiot."

The party follows after Steve in a buzz of anger and Dustin scrambles to his feet in fear of being left behind. "Hang on, wait. Wait!"

The journey does not last long after, for within minutes they find themselves at the entrance of an even larger opening. They at once know this is the place they came for when they gaze upon the cavern they now find themselves at the edge of.

"Alright, Wheeler," Steve clicks his tongue as the others pool around at his side, gawking at the scene. "I think we found your hub."

Stretched out before them was a vast area roughly the size of the Byers kitchen and dining room combined. It was quite spacious. The ceiling had doubled in height and arched into the center to form a dome. Giant, purple spores identical to the one Dustin had encountered dotted the ceiling. And just as the map had predicted, multiple pathways connected all around them.

"Let's drench it," Mike orders.

The team sets to work divvied up amongst the hub. Each of them carries their source of fuel for the fire they had brought along with them. The stench of mold and decay was quickly buried under the gallons of lighter fluid they began dispersing. Lucas - who had been smart enough to snatch up the pesticide sprayer back at the house - covered the ceiling whiles the others secured the walls and ground around them.

Not a drop was left over.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Pain ripped from Y/n's throat in the form of a strenuous battle cry. Bursting forth from her palms were great billowy waves of heat, veins began to spread to her cheeks and jaw. Her cries end only to gasp for air. Her chest begins heaving at an alarming rate as her lungs swallow as much oxygen as they can take. A whimper breaks out though it is hard to be heard over Will's terrifying screeches.

Jonathan's hand around Nancy grows tighter, and he turns to her still fearfully. "It's not working."

He shifts attention to his mother. "It's not working! Mom, are you listening to me? It's not working!"

"Just wait!"

Y/n cries out once more, it has lost most of its anger and it sounded more wounded than anything. Jonathan's eyes fly back to her before hardening at his mother.

"We can't! Look...! Look at him!" He sputters, storming his mother's side. "Look at her! You're killing them! Y/n, stop. That's enough!"

"Jonathan, wait!"

Ignoring his mother, he calls after the girl as he marches for the heater ready to turn it off. His mother pries him away from the heater, but he does not go down without a fight. His mouth parts to argue, but Y/n quickly recaptures everyone's attention.

A grunt brews in her stomach and erupts from her chest. She shakes her head, her attention never leaving Will.

"N-no! I..." she whimpers again, and she feels her cracked and dried lips dampen with blood that dripped from her nose. "I can... do it!"

"Y/n, no!"

Will's head whips to his side in and urgent and unnaturally rigid manner, his now completely back eyes zero in on Jonathan.

"GET HER AWAY! GET HER AWAY! GET HER AWAY!" Jonathan's eyes double in size at the horrific sight, and what he says next is enough to paralyze him. "KILL HER! KILL HER!"

His head never moved, but his body never stopped. His fighting grew more intense and forceful, now breaking away at his skin as his wrists and ankles began to bleed.

"KILL HER, DAMMIT! KILL HER! KILL HER!"

The words buy a single moment's worth of shocked hesitation among the others, all apart from Y/n. She still had one more thing to try, and she knew she had to act fast. While the Mind Flayer's attention was diverted she had slipped to the other side of his bed, and reached for his arm.

The skin of her heated palm nearly made contact with his, but before it could she heard a snap, and she was out on the floor less than a second later.

"Y/n!"

"Will, no!"

Will's left hand had broken free from its restraint, sent flying through the air and into her face. His knuckles burrowed into the side of her head, throwing her back with a surprising amount of force. On her way down, a horrible screech left her throat that was soon cut short with a dull thud when her skull hit the cast iron fireplace knocking her out.

In the immediate moments that followed, they saw Will throw himself to the side of the bed. Joyce lunged after him, fearing he was trying to pry himself free from his other restraints, but to her horror she found his nails raking into Y/n's face, repeatedly.

"Will, stop! STOP! NO!"

Joyce and Nancy both run to the girl's aid as quick as they can. Joyce jumps at her son to restrain him while Nancy manages to drag the unconscious girl out and around the bed, safe from the Mind Flayer's reach. Joyce fights hard against her struggling son as he tries to reach after Y/n, but quickly his attention snaps to his mother. He whirls on her in seconds, his free arm shooting up at her and his now bloodied hand clamps tightly around her throat. Her hands fly to his wrists, now pawing at him as she tries to pry herself free from his grip.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The deeper they venture into Hawkins Lab, the closer they get to the heart of it all; the gate. Already, the familiar spores of the Upside Down have leaked into the atmosphere, the air cold and stiff. Hopper's flashlight journey's down the hall, finding the end marked by the two giant elevator doors. The very same himself and Joyce had entered the previous year to find Will.

What they heard next only confirmed the gate was just around the corner. It was the horrific howls of the Demodogs, and they were closer than ever as their shrill echoes bounced down the barren tiled hall.

"Stay here," Hopper repeats.

El stands rigid with her eyes fixed on the hall ahead, the closer she got the more vivid the memories grew. She watches studiously, not daring for a second to take her eyes off of Hopper as peers around the corner. Even if he did have the gun, even if he did tell her he would take care of them for her. That he was there to protect her, she'd knew now she'd never stop looking out for him.

Hopper's attention never strays as he slowly inches forward towards the lab. Just hours ago he had been in this very room when they broke through. As far as he could tell at that moment, the entry was clear but he knew the room itself was far from that. When he approaches the door - his footsteps still light and silent - he takes cover in the corner up against the door. He pulls his large pocket knife from his pocket, unfolding it, and slowly brings it into view.

Sure enough, in the slim and shaky reflection he spots several dozen Demodogs, all packed around the entrance to the gate.

They were guarding it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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kpopimaginesforever · 4 years

Photo

for anon: got7′s reaction to wanting to have sex while reader is on her period.

hey, hope y’all enjoy this one! happy new year, and we hope you also had a very lovely holiday season. -mods star and moon

Jackson

You had to admit that, despite the searing cramps that struck your lower body in waves, Jackson’s constant grinding against your clothed core was absolutely turning you on. He seemed absolutely determined to turn you to putty in his hands - and it was working.

“Jackson, wait,” you huffed desperately as he attempted to push his hands below the waistband of your pajama shorts. He looked down at you frustratedly, a small pout on his face.

“What?”

“I’m… on my period.”

He was holding himself up with one elbow, his entire body hovering over yours. You’d expected him to humbly decline to have sex with you after hearing your confession. But he didn’t show any signs of moving.

“So what?” He asked - and he was smirking now. “Doesn’t matter to me if you’re bleeding or not. I can change the sheets, anyways.”

He moved to remove your shorts again, and this time you put up less of a fight. Instead of pushing him away, you only rubbed your thighs together, overwhelmed.

“W-Wait…”

“What, baby?”

“Are you… are you sure?”

You glanced down, biting your lip as Jackson determinedly pushed his hands past your panties. It felt tremendously difficult to meet his gaze.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “If you really make a mess of them, I’ll just buy new ones.”

Mark

Mark had been bringing up the topic of sex for about an hour, and it was painfully obvious that he wanted to fool around before his photoshoot later that day. You successfully avoided the conversation until he began to whisper extremely dirty things into your ear.

You scoffed and looked at him. “I’m on my period, Mark. We can’t.”

He paused, absorbing the information and taking the time to respond thoughtfully. “Oh.”

“Sorry.” You laughed nervously, knowing how horny he actually was.

“No, it’s okay baby.” He adjusted his pants to make room for his growing boner and smirking. “I think I know a way for us to both be happy.”

He trailed his eyes down to his crotch and then back to you. Knowing exactly what he was implying, you tied your hair back and got to work.

Bambam

After getting ready to go to sleep, you emerged from the bathroom limping. Period cramps were always more excruciating towards the end of your cycle, and this month was no exception. You felt like shit. Crawling into bed, you’d expected your already drowsy boyfriend to simply reach to hold you in his arms before falling unconscious; but instead, he brought his lips to your neck and left several sloppy kisses there.

“What are you doing?” you groaned, wanting to go to sleep but also craning your neck upwards so he could have better access. “It’s bedtime, dude.”

Bambam only hummed, satisfied that you were letting him continue his assault on your neck. Between kisses, he hummed out: “I want you.”

“That’s not my problem,” you chuckled dryly, but the way you parted your legs for him to lay between did not go unnoticed by either of you. “I’m on my period. We can’t do anything.”

Unsurprisingly, your freak of a boyfriend only laughed.

“So what?”

He was slowly making his way down your body with his mouth, and you were so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your navel that you gasped in surprise when you felt him pull down your panties with his right hand. His hot breath against your core gave you immediate goosebumps.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you laughed, pushing his head away. “I don’t want to do that. If you want to fuck me, that’s fine. But why would you wanna eat me out?!”

Trying but failing desperately to keep a straight face, Bambam let out a laugh as well.

“Was just experimenting, I guess,” he grinned, propping himself up on his knees. “Now spread your legs wide.”

Yugyeom

You could tell Yugyeom was horny as soon as he walked into your shared bedroom with flushed cheeks and a sheepish grin on his face.

“What is it?” you groaned, burying your face in your pillows. The light from the hallway he was letting in was absolutely unbearable. “I’m on my period and everything hurts.”

Even though it was silent and you weren’t looking at him, you could still read your boyfriend’s mood like a book. You knew very well that he needed you - and from the back of your mind, you remembered an article you’d read about how sex actually… helped menstrual cramps.

“You still want to?” you asked, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp.

Giggling shyly, he answered in a low voice: “I mean… I guess.”

After looking confused for a short moment, he hesitantly pushed his way through the bathroom door and returned seconds later with an armful of towels.

“I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but…” you lifted up your lower body so he could spread them out under you. “Is this going to make a huge mess?”

You laughed gently, patting his arm as he propped himself up on his elbow next to you. “There’s a high possibility. But showers exist for a reason, I guess?”

Yugyeom grinned. And in hardly a nanosecond, his lips were on yours.

Jaebum

You and your boyfriend, Jaebum, were sitting on the couch while watching a show on TV. Apparently whatever bad reality show you two were really turning him on, because you could see the growing tent in his pants. He reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, giving you a suggestive look. You reciprocate immediately, knowing you’re weak for his advances. You let him inch closer up your thigh and kiss your neck for awhile, until he tried to sneak his hands inside your leggings. Your hand instinctively flies to grab his and stop his motions.

“I’m on my period...” You bit your lip, cutting right to the chase. You could see his expression change rapidly.

“Okay.” he finally smiled after a few beats of silence. “No worries, we can finish this another time.” He kissed your cheek and straightened his jeans before getting up. He strolled into the bathroom and locked the door. Paying him no mind, you drifted off to sleep on the couch, letting the sounds from the TV pull you away.

A few minutes later he came back out, very obviously having relieved himself, and came to cuddle with you on the couch.

“Why didn’t you let me help?” you mumbled sleepily.

“Didn’t wanna bother you.” He explained in short, stroking your hair. “Go to sleep now.”

Jinyoung

It was getting late. You and Jinyoung were cuddling in bed, relaxing together on his last day off. You held a heating pad to your stomach as he rubbed your back.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and out of your face.

You shrugged. “Could be better.” You told him matter-of-factly.

He drew his eyebrows together, worried and wanting to help. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Well…” You mumbled timidly. “Maybe one thing…”

He picked up on your suggestive tone almost immediately. “(Y/N)!” He giggled. “Are you really thinking about that right now?”

You nodded shyly, a blush spreading over your cheeks. His face turned serious. “Wait, really?” The tips of ears turned red.

“I mean, no, it’s okay.” You said quickly, retracting your statement after seeing him so embarrassed. “It might be… you know… gross.”

“No!” He exclaimed suddenly, causing you to jump. “I would never think you’re gross, baby.”

You smiled. “Are you sure? Because we don’t have to.”

“I want to!” He assured you, stroking your cheek. “I’m definitely sure.”

“Okay… Well, you might want to get a towel?” You suggested as he stood up to prep himself.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “Right, of course.”

You looked at him skeptically, knowing very well that he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). I’ll take good care of you.” He flashed you a cheesy smile that convinced you that you were in good hands.

Youngjae

You’d been dreading telling Youngjae that you were on your period throughout this entire makeout session, but when he moved to take off your shirt, you decided it couldn’t wait any longer. For his sake. You didn’t want him to stop any time soon, but you knew he’d probably be unpleasantly surprised if he reached to touch you and his hand came out red.

But how were you supposed to say it? Half of you was embarrassed, and half of you just didn’t want him to quit touching you. You were so caught up in your own internal debate about what it is that you should do that you hardly noticed Youngjae’s worried gaze.

“Hey, what's up?” He said, looking somehow guilty as he peered at you. “You don’t wanna do this anymore? You look uncomfortable..”

He almost looked like a wounded animal, and you immediately jumped to reassure him.

“No, no. I’m just on my period… and I guess I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Oh…” Youngjae breathed out - and to your surprise he actually looked relieved.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Do you still want to-” a pink blush quickly conquered his cheeks. “I mean, should I still...keep going?”

Without a second thought, you felt yourself nodding your head profusely.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #got7 smut #got7 imagine #got7 reaction #mark tuan #jackson wang #youngjae #jinyoung #jaebum #yugyeom #bambam #imagines

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entitycradle · 3 years

Text

A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

#fiction #short fiction #science fiction #aliens #madness #suicide #panic attack #disassociation #paranoia #eating disorder #hopeful ending

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crowfonder · 3 years

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Hello, I hope you are doing alright on this fine saturday, it's nice and gloomy here(ʃƪ＾3＾）and also wtf? Where do those gaint bugs exist? I am not scared of bugs, I actually love them but that's lowkey scary, I didn't know there were such big ones !0-0

Oh btw what is your opinion on crane flies? They are the only animal I absolutely hate. I literally start crying whenever I come across one. I don't exactly know why tho.

Well anyways, stay swaggy and don't forget to drink water and eat something today <3

It's Friday here and I'm very sweaty 😓.

I dont know if those are real. I think it was a model or photoshop on Google.

I like crane flies!

Yourself as well ^^ I'm so glad you like my blog dude. It's so hard to get my original stuff out there.

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slafkovskys · 4 years

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hanging out with owen and some of the guys on a hot summery day and you’re wearing a tiny sun dress that keeps riding up and getting sneaky looks from the others.. shy owen’s jaw is clenched but hes not going to do anything in public but when you guys are in private...(do what you will with this 🥵)

mike had a house on the lake and he’d invited some of the boys up there for a few days during summer. after clearing it with vorlicky, owen extended the invitation to you and you readily accepted. you ended up being the only girl, but you didn’t mind very much because you got to spend a week with your boyfriend without either of your parents hovering over you two.

after spending almost the entire day on the boat, on the first night you all decided to build a fire to make some s’mores and hotdogs. before you got started, everyone went to their respective rooms to change. owen followed you and shut the door while you began to tear through your luggage for something to wear.

you feel him press himself to your back, planting his hands on your hips. you blush and stand up straight, turning around in his arms to wrap yours around his neck, “yes?”

“i think that we could just skip dinner,” he proposes, burying his face in your neck. you grin, craning your neck to the side so he could do as he pleased. “they wouldn’t miss us.”

“they’re not stupid owen. i think that you can last a few more hours,” he groans into the skin of your neck and you giggle, running a hand through his brown hair. “just think, after that, i’m all yours. don’t have to share me anymore.”

your voice was a mumble though it was only the two of you behind the locked door. his hands tighten and he pulls back to look down at you, “i don’t share you anyway. my girl.”

“i know baby,” you press a kiss to his collarbone and give him a little shove. “now let me get dressed. the quicker i do so, the less time we have to spend downstairs.”

that seems to spark something in him because he moves away and lets you find your outfit while he wanders into the bathroom. you pull out your dress (a loose-fitting, spaghetti strap number that barely hit at mid-thigh) and take off your bikini. you pull the dress overhead and grab your hairbrush to try and salvage the wet mess atop your head.

he comes out in a pair of sweatpants and a wisco shirt that you’d had a habit of stealing and stops when he sees you. he groans, “you aren’t making this easy.”

“you should know how to control yourself by now, o,” you roll your eyes and hold your hand out for him. you both make your way back downstairs to see all of the other boys already outside.

the wind catches your dress and it flies up behind you, your hands are quick but owen’s are quicker as he pulls it down over your briefly exposed ass. the sound that he lets out is something like a growl as he nudged you forward.

you take a seat beside ryder and he shoots you a grin which you return. owen sits beside you and he’s quiet, more so than usual. alex walks over to hand you an old coat hanger that had been straightened out so you could stick the hotdog on it. you thank him and stand up, moving closer to the fire.

owen once again comes to stand behind you and you don’t look at him as you speak, “what’s up with you?”

“you’re wearing that dress and you decided not put anything under it. the wind keeps catching it and they’re all looking at you which i don’t much care for. what’s up with you?” his voice is angry as his mouth drops to your ear.

you swallow as you lock eyes with dylan through the fire. you duck your head and blush, pulling your hotdog from the fire deeming it cooked enough. you grab a bun and a plate, fixing yours before going to go back to your seat. owen makes a noise, causing you to look over at him. he sits down in his seat and pats his thigh which causes a pit to form in your stomach.

you sit across his lap throwing your legs over the side of the chair and keeping your legs clenched together. his hand rests on the side of your thigh, tracing patterns on the exposed skin. you knew that he wouldn’t try and pull anything in front of his friends, but deep down, you hoped that he would just slip his hand under when he thought no one was looking and just take the edge off.

“you didn’t want one?” you ask, referring to the hotdog on your plate. he assures you that he’ll get one later and you sigh, feeding him some chips every now and again.

when you're done, you set your plate to the side and relax against his chest. you catch sight of his hand gripping onto the arm of the chair, knuckles practically white. “o? are you okay?” you make a show of putting the back of your hand on his forehead as if he was running a fever. “you don’t look so good.”

“you really don’t, dude,” dylan calls from across the way and you bite your lip, eyes locking with owen’s.

“i don’t feel that good, honestly. i think i’m gonna turn in for the night. sorry boys,” he says.

you slide off his lap and hold out your hand, “come on baby, let’s get you some water and get you in bed. night boys.”

you make quick moves up the stairs, not even stopping for water. when you get to your room, the door is shut and suddenly your hoisted upwards and your legs wrap around his waist.

“i’m done playing nice. the only thing i want to hear coming out of your mouth is my name. we clear?”

“crystal.”

#owen lindmark #concepts

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mshermia · 4 years

Text

Are We Out Of The Woods Yet?

Whumptober Prompt No. 12 - I think I’ve broken something Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

AO3 Link

###

“There are so many reasons why online classes are better than going to school.”

Peter shook his head. “And there are plenty of reasons why learning in school with other students is preferable. How it helps retain the material better than—”

Morgan groaned without even looking at him, her nose in the air, eyes on the leafy trees above them. “You can learn the same things at home, only then you could have dinner at night with us instead of in your stinky room in Boston.”

“Hey,” he craned his neck to see where she went, then walked after her. “My room doesn’t stink.”

“It’s a boy’s room.” She said it like that alone was a valid argument, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, the girl’s dorms he had been in—

He stopped himself. Not the time and place.

“Or you could go visit May!”

Peter had his hands in his pockets, trying to keep up with her. “Right.”

“You should!” She turned towards him and pointed her phone at him. “You should come with me and mom. She’s taking me next time she flies out to HQ.”

That startled Peter. “She is?”

“Yeah, in like two weeks or so. You should come, Pete! It’d be so much fun.”

Peter pulled a grimace, even if her excitement was infectious. He hadn’t been in LA since before the semester had started and he did miss May, but he’d also been looking into a weekend or two at Yale, wondering, hoping, that things with MJ—

“So, what do you think?”

He forced his mind back to the present. “I think you shouldn’t run off that far, Morg.”

She cocked her head at him, then blinked and made her eyes roll up high towards the treetops. A performance that was only second to the master, her dad.

“You sound like Tony,” she groaned.

Peter pulled a face. “Don’t call your dad by his first name. That’s just weird.”

Her eyes were scanning the trees, hoping to pick up the last couple of tree species that she needed to catalog for her biology project. “You call him Tony.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, what’s the difference?”

Peter screwed up his face at the question. “That he’s not actually my dad?”

“Oh please…”

She vanished behind some undergrowth and for a moment Peter’s Spider senses tingled and his heart jumped into his throat. That olive green jacket she was wearing didn’t help her stick out either. Sure, he had the nano-housing units secured on his forearms, but those were only the last resort. The very last resort. The gig would be up if he popped up as Spider-Man from behind a tree and Morgan, she couldn’t know. Not yet, they had agreed. Hurried steps through the trees had him almost fall over a large root until he found her, crouching down on the ground. Her phone still in hand, she took a picture of a random weed.

“What are you doing? I thought we were looking for trees.”

“We’re looking for biodiversity and this is rare basil-mountain mint, which will likely win me this thing.”

Peter blew out a long breath, telling his pulse to calm the fuck down. He just hated not having her in his sight. “Just don’t wander off like that.”

“I didn’t wander off. I just walked.” Morgan stood up, wiping the dark forest soil off her knees. “Plus, don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?”

“Why it’s okay for you to call daddy Tony and not for me?” She didn’t even look at him, eyes on her phone screen. “Is that a weird boy thing?”

“No, it’s…” Peter shook his head. “It’s a your his daughter and I’m the weird dude that comes around to eat out his fridge thing.”

Morgan’s eyebrows were pulled up not unlike Pepper would when she was arguing with Tony. “Harley calls him dad…”

“Not to his face.”

“Ya-ha!”

“Nu-uh!” Peter turned his back, not interested in discussing that in the slightest. Harley, well, was Harley. It wasn’t the same. He had years to build that bond with Tony, when Peter had had, well, fewer years.

“I’m 8, not an idiot, you know.”

“I don’t know, you’re giving a great impression of one…” He had said it louder than he meant to and he hadn’t really meant to say it at all.

Morgan stood up straight like he had taken an actual shot at her. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and she swung around, explicitly away from him, and stalked in the opposite direction.

“Morg…” He blew out a long breath that had his overly long hair blow across his forehead. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.”

She turned on her heel, eyes sparkling - which he hoped was with annoyance, anger even, and not with tears - and gave him the finger. Two of them, actually.

He was a horrible influence on her. Well, it was him or Harley. Probably Harley.

Still, he shouldn’t have said that. She was struggling as it was, being called names and such at school, though Tony refused to get her some tutors instead. Went on and on about the social skills he never had the chance to develop in a regular school environment. Peter had to roll his eyes as his father’s words echoed in his own head.

Wait… His eyes widened and he physically shook that train of thought from his mind. That girl was putting ideas in his head that he didn’t need in there at all.

“Dude, the car is in the other direction…” he called after her.

Morgan still walked away from him, only tilted her head all the way back, and screamed towards the sky. “I STILL NEED TO FIND TWO MORE TREES, ASSFACE!”

He groaned, shrugging his arms in surrender as he started to follow her. “I thought that weed thingy will get you the win.”

She didn’t even turn, just held up the same two fingers once again as she stalked further away from him.

“Change that attitude or I’ll have to bring it up in your dad’s exit interview when we get back.”

Not that he actually would.

“Don’t you mean your dad, ASSFACE?!”

Or maybe he would bring it up…

But like a loyal puppy dog, he followed right behind her, and like a loyal puppy dog, he couldn’t help but hold his nose into the wind and…

He sighed under his breath, teeth gritted as he scanned the endless forest around them. He had this feeling and that feeling never meant something cheerful. They were in a remote part of the national park. Very remote. Odds were, he might just be sensing wildlife that could get to them. Boars or… or something bigger maybe?

“Can we just… hey… Morg…” He cursed as he followed along after her. “Morgan!”

“What?!” She had stopped and turned, both her hands balled into fists.

“Can we just walked back towards the car at least?” He pointed behind himself. “I don’t want to get lost in the middle of the damn woods.”

He wouldn’t get lost. He knew where they were, where the car was. That it would take them an hour and 10 minutes to get back to it. What he didn’t like was that girl stalking deeper and deeper into the forest. He shuddered with a sudden wave of goosebumps at the thought. No, they really had to leave.

“Let’s just… let’s just head back. We can take a bit of a curve.” He shot a glance over his shoulder, but it was just the wind ruffling the leaves above them. “I’m sure we’ll find your trees on the way back.”

“But I don’t want to turn around yet!” She was properly mad, foot-stomping and everything.

“Hey!” Peter pulled his shoulders back, his head held high, one finger pointing at her like Tony would do to him. “When I say we go back, we go back. This is not a democratic decision.”

Again, she threw her head back and groaned, but slowly trotted towards him. She had just moved past him as his ears pick up how she quietly muttered “You suck and I hate you!” under her breath.

Peter bit his lip, pretending like he didn’t have any enhanced hearing whatsoever as he followed along behind her. He tried to remind himself that Morgan was just a kid and how kids sometimes say things they didn’t mean because he knew she didn’t really mean that.

His eyes on the ground, head bowed low, trying his best not to fall or have his eyes scratched out by any of the low hanging branches. This wasn’t an environment that he excelled in so maybe that was where that queasy feeling in his stomach came from.

“How’s it going, Morg? Any luck with the rest of your—” He had looked to his left, then to his right, but he couldn’t see her anymore. “Morgan?” He hurried a few steps ahead, craning his neck but there was no sign of her. She must have rushed ahead. Must have stormed of that sulky, little—

“Morgan!” He cursed when a branch hit him in the face, leaving a stinging cut just above his eye. “Dude, seriously, this is not funny any—” His stomach fell into a deep hole as to his right, Morgan’s voice echoed only faintly through the forest, screaming his name.

He hadn’t run this fast ever. Never before, tripping over branches and roots as he went. He only just saw her brown hair disappear through the door of what appeared to be a little hunting cabin, worn down enough to seem deserted. It was just right there mid-among the trees. His feet carried him closer and closer until he reached the edge of a little meadow right in front of the small house. There was a guy next to the door, standing guard or something, openly showing off the handgun he was holding though it wasn’t pointed at Peter. Not yet.

“Nothing to see here,” he called across the distance. “Move along.”

He had stopped, about 50 feet away from the front door, his breathing was fast and shaky, not so much from the run, moreso from his nerves. “How about you get my sister back out here and I’ll think about it.”

“Go’ the wrong house, boy.” The man pointed the gun in the direction that led back towards the main road. “No girl here. Pro'ably went ahead. Waiting at you car.”

“Get her out here right now,” Peter hissed through gritted teeth.

“Nobody here, move along.”

The guy could play all old-man-in-the-woods he wanted, his eyes were sharp and Peter could see it. Without his senses, he might have never heard Morgan cry out earlier. He might not have seen well enough to spot her being dragged through the door frame, but he was still Spider-Man.

“I’ll give you a last try. One more chance to let my sister go or—”

Peter ducked and turned, sought shelter behind the closest tree as he heard the shots that were fired in his direction. It hadn’t been the old fool whose hands Peter had been watching like a hawk. No, there was someone else. Two guns that were shot at him simultaneously.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter how closely he had thought he was watching, not to his arm that was painfully burning. Deep breaths. In and out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

“You’re not welcome here, boy,” the guy at the door hollered in his direction. “Fuck off!”

The door creaked as it was pulled open and then slammed shut with a bang. He cursed himself. Morgan was counting on him. What the fuck was he doing? One quick look determined what he knew to be true. He was dripping blood onto the forest floor. Quickly, he pulled his sweatshirt off and ripped a string of fabric off it, then did his best to one-handedly tie it around his arm.

He was still hiding among the trees but he had no doubt that whoever had shot at him was still up there.

“Fucking bastards.” He didn’t even think about it, just tapped the nano-housing unit on his lower arm and the Iron Spider engulfed him within seconds. It didn’t matter now, his identity wasn’t worth shit as long as Morgan was in danger.

“Peter, I’ve registered severe trauma to your left arm. Calculating closest medical—”

“Karen, stop. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a graze. I need to get into that house over there. Read out heat signatures. Anything you can give me. Morgan’s in there. We need to get her out.”

“Heat sensors are activated. I record six individual signatures within the parameter of the house, one of them Morgan.”

Fuck. Five of them. Peter closed his eyes, concentrated on his pulse, his senses. He was fine. He’d done this a thousand times. Something like this.

“There is no reception but satellite connectivity is now active to send a beacon out to Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers.”

He was breathing hard. “Just.. just hold off on that Karen. It’s… it’s fine. I.. I got this. I got this.” It wasn’t… wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t have the team come out for some dudes in the woods. Mr. Stark… Tony would murder him in cold blood for this. It… this wasn’t all that bad. He would just… just get her out and… and then they could tell him together and they would be safe and all of this wouldn’t even be such a big deal.

“Alright, Karen. Here goes nothing.”

As soon as he came out of the trees, there were more shots fired right at him. None of that phased him though. The Iron Spider was bulletproof. Karen made out both shooters, one of them hiding behind the back wall of the building, the other one had crept up onto the roof. His webs hit the one on the rooftop first, immobilizing him completely. The other guy had bolted as soon as he’d seen the suit.

From there on out, the things happening around him were a blur. A weird mixture of slow motion and an out-of-body experience where nothing mattered, nothing except Morgan. It didn’t even matter that this wasn’t just a random cabin in the woods. Maybe it was the fumes from the meth lab they were running in that room that were messing with his mind. Maybe he was losing more blood than he had realized.

None of it mattered, not when Morgan was kneeling on the floor, her eyes red as she cried, cried out for help, for her dad and for Spider-Man. He was winning this. He had to. And for the longest time that he was in that cabin, he thought he really was going to win this. It wasn’t until he stood right in front of Morgan, the man behind her pressing a gun against her neck while she was ringing for air, that he realized the flaw in his plan.

He would never risk her. He… he couldn’t risk Morgan.

Peter was frozen, couldn’t do a single thing, paralyzed by fear. What if he would be too slow? What if they shot her before his webs could bind them? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. It wasn’t until Morgan had started whispering his name over and over again that he realized he had let the suit retreat far enough to reveal his head at some point. That was right, they had made him do it. Said they’d kill her if he didn’t. He couldn’t risk that. Couldn’t risk his sister.

It was the old guy, the one that had been at the door who was pointing his gun right at Peter’s head now, no nanites to protect him from the impact if the man were to fire. They wanted money. Of course, they did. Not like Peter had a lot of that. Some, sure. They told him to go and get as much as he could carry and maybe, if it was enough, maybe they would let Morgan go.

“I’m… I’m not leaving her here…” His voice was cracking just like his nerves. “I’m not—”

“You’ll leave her here, either breathing or not,” the guy behind Morgan hissed as he pressed the barrel of the gun even firmed against her skin. “Your choice. Try anything, she’s dead.”

His vision was swimming, eyes burning. He had been such a fool. He should have never let her leave his sight, should have grabbed her and bolted the moment his senses had started to pick up the smallest thing. He should have called Mr. Stark. He should have…

“She’s just a child. Just… let her go and… and you’ll keep me.”

The old guy snickered next to Peter. “Who’d pay a dime for you, huh?”

Then everything changed. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Dread and… and hope. The men couldn’t hear him but Peter did. He would know those thrusters anywhere. Just as he was about to call out to Morgan, tell her to keep her eyes closed, the old man’s other hand grabbed him, tightening around his throat. He pushed Peter further away from her, back against the wall right next to the door and Peter… he didn’t do anything. He just let it happened, let the old bastard choke him for if he didn’t, they might hurt her. If he fought, they might kill her and this was almost over.

His knees hit the floor from one moment to the next, as the old man crumbled to the ground next to him. The same was true for the man behind Morgan. Peter was just about to crawl to her, to shield her from… he didn’t know what, but Iron Man blasted in through the door next to him faster than Peter could get up.

The armor around Tony retreated and he almost fell to the floor, crouching down next to Morgan. “I’m here, baby. It’s okay.” He pulled her close, pressed her head against his chest so she didn’t see, didn’t have to look at the mess around them. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry, baby. It’ll all be just fine.”

He gathered her in his arms and carried her, heading for the door, his armor following behind him.

“You’ll find your way back?”

Peter was still on the floor, his pulse still hammering in his ears. “Yes… yes, Sir.”

He didn’t even look at Peter as he left and it was the worst feeling in the world.

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Part II is up, Enjoy!

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This is my first try at a prompt fill and I feel like those are usually supposed to be One-Shots, right? Well, this won’t be. But I think one is also supposed to start on October 1st and do them in the right order… Well, what can I say other than, it is what it is ;)

The Fix-it is based on my Endgame Fix-it “Like You’d Know How It Works“. I’ll likely use this story as the basis for more than one of the Whumptober prompt fills.

#wumptober2020 #no.12 #whumptober #spider son #irondad #morgan stark #spiderman #peterparker #whump #broken trust #broken down #prompt fill #iron dad and spider son #LYKHIW timeline

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