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hyukaslvr · 1 month

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strong enough | J. Jungkook (2)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: aproxx 10.2k

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

the mirrors of your practice room were foggy, the heat radiating off of your whole groups bodies as you worked your hardest to perfect all the choreographies to your newest album. you worked especially hard since last week, you took a long time to really think about what happened.

“we both know you’re just as messy,” Jungkook spat at you, you bit back your tears and fought your conscience screaming at you to walk away. this isn’t something you would just walk away from, not with your boosting ego.

“this is why we won’t work out, Jungkook, you’re acting like a bitch. fix yourself, i’ll fix me. i thought you were doing better, but it seems like you’re still the dick you were during all our fucking arguments,” you grabbed your belongings and starting walking away from his frozen figure, his words hitting him like a brick in the face. you came out here with him hoping you could talk to him, make him remember the reason why you weren’t communicating things or in contact, but he just proved to you why you shouldn’t have came.

Jungkook sat back down, right where you sat, thinking over things. anytime he would see you, he felt this rage build up inside of him. the rage coming from nowhere, yet appearing whenever your pretty face shows up in his sight. he hates it. he swore to control his anger, the way he acted when things didn’t go his way, but apparently anger management isn’t enough for him.

it’s not that he hates you, he adores you, he loves you. but sometimes, he feels like he can’t stand you. you act like you have everything in your life sorted out, when you don’t, not without him. it might be toxic of him to think of you that way, but it’s true. you know it’s true, deep inside and past your wall that you’ve built up for no one to see behind your cute personality set for the stage. only he knows the real you, at least he thinks, and he knows you have a shit ton of problems just like him.

Jungkook clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white at the thought of how he spoke to you. you don’t deserve that, but at the same time, he rightfully believes you need someone to put you in your place sometimes. but at the same time, you wish someone would knock some sense into Jungkook and make him grow up, even if he grew up way to fast, he still is childish as ever when it comes to talking about things.

you snapped out of your state of thought as one of your members patted your back, telling you to drink up some water before starting again. you wiped your face with a towel before gulping down half of your bottle, tossing it on the floor, and starting up again. thank god that you have therapy tomorrow, you thought as you stand in position once again, waiting for the music to start up.

“he said that to you?” your therapist questioned, jotting down notes quickly so you can speak more about how you felt during that moment. you felt angry, sad, all of the above. out of all people you thought would understand, Jungkook was the one you felt would. yet, he opens his mouth and speaks mean words towards you like he always did when he was struggling, never able to control what he says. but who were you to talk, you did the same things, but you were for sure better at controlling it.

“i thought we were ready to talk about why we actually broke up, i thought i was to say at the least, he for sure wasn’t,” you sighed, picking at your skin around your fresh pedicured nails out of habit. it breaks your heart, seeing him that way, he only acts like that when he’s in a deep place. you can visualize him going home, and immediately changing into work out clothes, beating on his punching back until the chain gives out, his knuckles bleeding with open wounds.

but then again, who’s ever ready to talk about a long relationship ending? at the time, walking to the park in the freezing cold, you felt ready. you walked high and proud as you were side by side with the man whose heart you constantly break. maybe he did have the right to act that way, but it still hurts coming from him. yeah, you had to figure out your shit, but so did he, so him acting like that felt hypocritical.

“darling, no one is ever ready to talk about why relationships end the way they end,” she starts again, it’s was like she was reading your mind as you sat there quietly in thought, “maybe you should of waited, but know you know for sure that now isn’t the right time to get back together, no matter how much you both want and crave it,”

“we’re like the same person, at least i like to think so. i just want him to understand why i do what i do,” it makes your head hurt thinking about reasons why he couldn’t try to understand you at the least, it was the least he could do along with loving you. he was always so unreasonable with mental health.

“just give him some time to think about what he said and how he can fix things over time, time heals everything,” bullshit.

you felt like a mess, sitting in front of the vanity mirror as you get your hair fixed by your stylist, her sweet smile as your eyes reached hers in the mirror comforted you in the slightest, you just had to get through tonight and then you’ll be able to be alone in your dorm room, in the comfort of your own bed.

“feeling anxious?” your leader lets her head fall on your shoulder, smiling at the glitter in your inner corners and poking your cheek in awe, “you’ll be okay, at least you’re pretty and have curly hair,” her finger twirls the curl resting in the small ponytail in your hair, letting it boing back to place.

once your stylist was done, she spun your chair to face your leader, who bent down to fix the curls in your face, cupping your cheeks once she was done and smiling down at you, “i just wish to be home right now,” you sigh, practically melting into her hold and she squishes your cheeks in response. you wanted to cry, the amount of promotions you had this week drained every last bit of emotion out of you.

“just put a smile on that frowny face of yours, get out there and look as cute as you always do during fansigning, we’re gonna have a party tonight!” you groan in response, she lets go of your face to cross her arms across her chest, noticing your negative response to the idea of partying, “what’s wrong with getting wasted after all these promotions? it’s not like anyone else will be there,”

that was a lie, you sat in a corner of your shared house with group after group showing up and partying, while you just wanted to be in your bed. maybe if you get drunk enough, you can dance with a random and have some fun tonight, you thought while staring at your other members already claiming other males to dance with. the lights flashing making your head hurt, as you stood up to get another glass of your drink.

there was yelling going on around you, but you chose to ignore it and downed half of your cup before heading towards your room, planning on locking your door and drowning all the noise of the party out with music. but your heart and feet stopped when hollers from the front door caught your attention. the person who took feet away from you, you wished to disappear out of his sight. no, it wasn’t Jungkook, right about now you wished it was instead of the monster who stood close in front of you, but far away at the same time

Choi Jaehyun, also known as the dick that cheated on you, also known as the abusive alcoholic you had dated, also known as the reason for the way you were now. one little glance towards his way made you gag, in shock and disbelief that he would dare to even show up here. the first thing he did was grab a beer, like he always did at his house after hitting you like you were the cause of all his problems.

it makes you ache, your heart especially knowing you loved his shit ass self at one point, thinking that he would change if you just covered up all the marks he would leave on you. after that relationship was over, your leader swore at you to never get back into another relationship until you got over him. you were over him, to say the least, but not over the way he made you feel. he made you feel worthless, ungrateful, unworthy, like a weakling.

“you think you deserve to be out there in the spotlight, like the bitch you are?” he spat in your face, his hands close to your face making you feel like something was coming towards you.

“baby, please just sit down and listen to me-” another smack hit your cheek, the tingling burned and made you call out in a cry, “jaehyun! please, stop and just have a drink-” you gasped out, the tears burned your eyes but slightly cooled the heat of your cheek.

“drink some more, is that what you fucking what? you want me more drunk so you can run away again?” he grabs your cheek hard, pulling it as he backed you against the cold of the refrigerator. you tried to focus on the loud humming coming from the damn thing, instead of the burning sensation of his hand pinching at the same place he just whacked you, “you’ll never be able to get away from me, not again, baby,”

the tears flowed from your cheeks, his body now facing you as your memory fades away to a new one standing infront of you currently. the look of his face, like he didn’t expect you to be at your own groups party, what a fucking idiot. before he could walk towards you, you grabbed your drink and stormed past him, ignoring the ringing affect his call of your name had to your ears. you told yourself, that where ever he was, you weren’t going to be, never, ever again.

you left the house in nothing but a thin jacket, you walked until your legs gave up on you. once you sat down, not knowing where you were or where your legs were walking you to, you looked up at the dark sky. the lights of the stars twinkling above you, giving you some comfort of the unbearable memories you had. you wished you could just deleted everything, every moment you had that with sick man. but it stays with you, like a parasite eating away at your skin.

you sniffled as you calmed down, whipped out your phone to dial someone, anyone to come get you and to be in the comfort of someone’s arms. you scrolled and scrolled, hoping to see someone’s name that warmed your heart at the sight of it. your eyes scoped around your contacts, hoping for anyone’s name to pop up.

Park Jimin. you quickly dialed his number, knowing he would pick up in a heart beat, like he always did for you.

“are you sure you’ll be okay on the couch? my bed is just as comfortable, even more at that,” he spoke as softly as you remembered, he tucked you into the couch and making sure you were comfortable enough to sleep away your puffy eyes.

“i’ll be okay out here, Jimin, i promise,” Jimin was the only other member, besides Hoseok, who knew about you and Jungkook. he allowed you to come over time to time when ever you and Jungkook would have problems, problems that were always better than what Jaehyun ever put you through. you believe that why you always went back to him, back to the comfort of his aura because he truly loved you. he loved every bit of you, but he couldn’t handle every bit of you.

Jungkook would never, you thought as you rolled over, facing the back of the couch as Jimin accepted the fact you chose the couch over his bed and went upstairs to get some sleep for himself. Jungkook had his angry issues, but he would never show abusive tendencies towards you, no matter how mad he was. he never raised a hand towards your way, he never laid a finger on you. it took you awhile to trust him, but that trust never once left even after you left him multiple times. but, to never bring up the memories that made you feel like a burden, you never once mentioned your past relationship, no matter how many times Jungkook would beg to talk about your exes.

“you should start writing in your journal again, _____” Jimin spoke over his shoulder, his hands working on making your eggs the way you loved them, “i know that helped you at times like this, even if i don’t know what actually happened for you to end up 10 minutes away from my place,”

“it’s better not to talk about it, for my sake,” he nodded in agreement, letting you know he won’t budge any information out of you since he knows the way you looked when he picked you up from the random street you sat at. you always wanted to tell him about your past, what changed you into the mess you are now and why you can’t seem to stay stable at any current time of the year. just because it happened years ago, doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you to talk about it, even if you trusted someone with your life, “you know what? that might be a good idea,” you spoke up after the minute of slience between you both.

you’ll write about everything bothering you, maybe you’ll be able to pick at the pieces broken inside of you to figure out how to handle all of your problems with Jungkook, but mainly yourself. you always need to put yourself first, your therapist would tell you, no matter how badly the other person is struggling, and you stood by that.

you never wanted to leave Jungkook, you never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t good enough for you love. you wanted him to feel like he was on the top of the world with you, to make him feel important and loved the way he should. what he doesn’t know, is that he was the reason you wanted to get better. he always told you, that you deserved everything heading towards you that was good. if the good was getting better and becoming healthy, hell yeah, you deserved that shit like it was a grammy.

so once you got back to the dorms, letting all your members and your worried leader know that you were at a good friends house after the party, you headed to your room with a fresh new notebook, ready to jot down all your feelings and thoughts that you let eat you alive everyday.

to my past, fuck you, sincerely. you deserve nothing, you don’t deserve to take over my life. i will get rid of you, i will get better, i deserve to be happy, i deserve to become a butterfly instead of moth. moths are pretty, but trust, i will be a beautiful monarch.

cheesy, you know that, but it’s true. so true that you continue to write until your hand cramps around your pen. you will get better, it just takes time, but time definitely does not heal everything.

a/n: i low-key hate writing angst, but here we are! this is a reminder that you are not alone if you’ve ever went through abuse or trauma with abuse, you will always have people out there for you and you have help too. there are hotlines on top of hotlines, please don’t be afraid to speak up about it, no matter what. i love you all, and never feel like you can’t reach out to talk to me, dm me about anything! you are all worthy and beautiful and deserve the best🩷. here are some hotlines: 1, 2, 3

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @joonsproperty @jk97bam @dna-black-and-blue

COMMENT TO BE ON TAGLIST!

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goosetheluce · 8 months

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It's Been a While (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by anon: "can I req one where it's like a little reunion after atsv? Like before she goes and sees her dad she goes and sees reader bc she's been missing for months and Gwen's probably worried at first but readers just too happy to see her again.maybe a little friends to lovers, thank youuuuu☺️☺️☺️"

info: decently angsty, physical affection (kissing, hugging, hand holding), crying, flashbacks, desperate!gwen, gwen 3rd person pov, cussing, use of y/n

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Gwen's entire body was crawling with nerves as she flung out her webs. She surged through her home city with poise and elegance. Her anxiety was shielded on the outside; Spider-Woman always had to be collected, breezy, perfect. Even now. Especially now, considering the news cameras and helicopters pointed at her. She could only imagine the headlines being displayed all across New York:

Vigilante "Spider-Woman" Makes An Appearance After Months

Masked Hero Re-Appears

Ghost-Spider Visits During Violent Era Beginning Without Her

She groaned in frustration, doing her best to outrun the nightcrawlers and news stations. Her father was probably getting his force ready to incarcerate her that very moment. A chill spread across her skin, and it wasn't the frigid rain.

She swung into an alleyway, ripping her mask off to catch her breath. Her time before Miles was put in real danger was ticking away, and this game of cat and mouse certainly wasn't helping. She sighed and sunk down the brick wall in exhaustion. Gwen needed to figure something out before she was cornered in the labyrinth that was New York City.

She listened to the cars screeching in the distance, listened to the bar fights, the laughter of a group of teenage girls past their curfews. It was by no means a city of sunshine, but she desperately missed her life.

Desperately missed you.

Gwen pulled her hood over her head as far as possible, ignoring the sting filling her eyes. She sighed shakily, breath condensing in the autumn thunder.

She needed to see you. Besides, it's not like she had much of a choice.

God, why did I have to make my suit bright fucking white? Maybe then these idiots would leave me alone.

Even now she heard the choppers pulsing in the sky. She wondered with a shudder how many were police force. Gotta get out of this suit.

She slipped her mask back on and set off. See, Gwen would never commit a crime with malicious intent. Hell, she was Spider-Woman, but she couldn't see any other way blend into the city without the chance of bumping into her dad at the apartment.

So she robbed a clothing store.

As gently as possible, but unfortunately that still meant damage. Gwen huffed. Had it really come down to this?

She pulled her arm back, flinching away from the window as she shattered it with a simple punch, even whispered "sorry" as if that changed anything. The shards clinked against the sleek-tiled floor of the Nike shop and she hopped inside with ease.

Don't have much time, she noted. The alert system wailed deafeningly as she shot webs at every security camera and stole the footage for that night. She raced through the store, grabbing a pair of black sweatpants and a navy blue winter compression shirt. She changed right there in the store with the cameras blinded. She swiped a drawstring bag and stuffed her suit and mask inside. She kneeled down to lace up her converse tightly. She still had a long way to go to your flat.

Gripping the strings of her bag tightly, she raced away. The rain had stopped, but the storm still threatened deep rumbles of thunder a couple of miles away. Her swift footsteps splashed through grimey puddles lit by orange streetlamps. The city seemed more perilous than ever as sirens screamed and guns fired, and guilt struck her chest.

Internally thanking her enhanced speed and endurance, Gwen stared up at your window not even ten minutes after she fled the store. Now came the hardest part: facing you, her closest friend, after she joined the society. Truthfully, she missed the warmth gifted to her from your loving arms. Something her dad never gave her before she left.

She paced around the block over and over again, wondering what the hell she was supposed to say to you. "Hey, I'm back after months of radio silence, and don't mind that I just crawled up your wall because it turns out I've been a human-spider freak this whole time. Missed you too."

Suddenly, it didn't matter what Gwen wanted to say anymore, because a police car was turning the corner.

"Fuck!"

She dashed up the wall and onto the roof, crouching to avoid any nearby helicopters. She released her breath in relief. She shook out her body and rubbed her temples. This was it. She began to crawl down the face of the complex, hoping she'd remember the right window.

Perk number 42 of being bitten by a radioactive spider.

She peered inside the window of your bedroom. It was convenient for her in the moment, but Gwen made a note to scold you for leaving your blinds open. She reached her hand out, hesitated, then curled it into a fist and gently tapped. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She saw you look up from your school laptop in confusion.

It's one in the morning and this woman is really doing homework.

Gwen tapped again.

"Y/N!" she called out softly. "Y/N, let me in!"

She heard a muffled "what the fuck?" through the glass.

"Gwen?" you whisper screamed in disbelief, unlocking your window and pulling it open. Your jaw went slack as Gwen simply jumped off the wall while diving into your window.

"Y/N, before you say anything, let me explain," she frantically rambled. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Please." Her eyes opened slowly to see you. Her body went rigid.

Fuck, she's crying.

Tears were welling and threatening to spill out from your eyes. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your nails left crescent moons gouged into your palms.

"What the hell was that?" you laughed breathily before rushing forward to hug her. You practically constricted her as you wrapped your arms around her waist. She had no idea what to do for a moment. Her own emotions were about to overflow and wash her composure away. Gwen settled for squishing her cheek against yours while holding you tight. As she rubbed your back, your sobs quieted.

You pulled away, wiping the wetness away from your eyes and lips. Gwen's stare lingered as your thumb grazed over your bottom lip out of habit. You stood up a little bit taller.

"It's been a while, Gwen."

Her stance jerked a little, barely even noticeable.

"I know. I've got a lot to explain to you, if you're willing to listen." You nodded firmly, turning around to sit back down on your bed. You patted the space adjacent to you.

Gwen took seat, spreading her legs out comfortably and resting her forearms on her knees. Her posture was slanted; it was still hard for her to make eye contact with you. She didn't want to find anger or disappointment in those eyes she had stared into one too many times. Eyes that haunted her in the most tragically beautiful manner possible.

"I disappeared," Gwen began hesitantly. "But not without a reason. So much has happened in the last two years, I just...I guess it all came to one single point and that was it for me. I had no chances left, no risks to take. It was over."

Her explanation was raw, quivering and vulnerable. Your heart began to race, wondering what she'd say next. You had no idea what was going on; yeah, Gwen did ballet and gymnastics or whatever, but that little trick she did to get into your window was no joke.

She jumped up from the bed and turned to face you.

I have to do this now.

"This is the craziest part, but you have to believe me," she whispered. Fear coated her rocky voice and widened her eyes. You blinked at her in reassurance, smiling a bit.

"Gwen, just tell me. You know I'll listen."

She sighed heavily and grabbed her bag off the floor. "Okay. Give me a second. And don't make any noise when I come out." She slipped into your closet and shut the door silently behind her. The light flickered on and leaked out from underneath the doorframe. You watched her shadow move fluidly.

Inside the closet, Gwen was hyperventilating as she fit herself into her suit. She looked into the body-length mirror sitting on your floor, and a tear traced down her cheek. She was staring at her worst enemy, and she despised who she saw in the suit. Spider-Woman was a different entity.

She turned around and faced the closet door. Gwen placed her hand on the knob, taking a deep breath before turning it and pushing it open. She couldn't look at you, but when she tried, you weren't there. Her blood froze in her own veins.

Gwen was back in that collapsed building, that very same night, staring her father's gun down.

"Why the fuck am I here?" she questioned, panic filling her voice. She looked around, desperately trying to find your apartment, your face. Her movements suddenly were not her own anymore as she involuntarily turned to face her father. Her hands were lifted up above her head, but they sank down. One inched toward her mask.

No.

Her body didn't listen. Her fingers met her chin, grasping the enhanced material concealing her face from the world.

No!

She felt the cool air hit her lips, then her nose, and finally her weary eyes. She watched her father's face contort into horror and disbelief. Gwen finally found the ability to force her eyes to shut, tears spilling out. When she opened them again, she was back in your closet.

"Gwen? What's taking so long?" you called out quietly from your room.

She gasped for air, clutching her chest as she spasmed in silence. She aggressively rubbed her arm over her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying.

I have to do this. What happened before doesn't matter. I have to save things with her.

Once more, Gwen turned the handle and stepped out. She was relieved to find you sitting on your bed, staring at her.

"Uh, nice costume Gwen, but I was kinda hoping for you to finish your explanation?" you sarcastically jabbed.

"Y/N..." Gwen groaned. "It's not a costume."

You scoffed, becoming impatient.

"Really! It isn't, Y/N!" Gwen frantically begged with you to understand. You crossed your arms.

"How am I supposed to believe you're Spider-Woman?"

Gwen shoved her face into her hands. Her frustration boiled.

"You're gonna believe me after this," she nearly growled, flitting forward and taking you in her arms. She slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your protest. She pulled her mask down and shot a web out of your window, slingshotting out of your room and into the night.

You were a mile away from your apartment in a matter of seconds while Gwen (Spider-Woman...?) held you firmly in her left arm, tossing you lightly in the air before you landed on her back. She guided your arms and legs to wrap tightly around her back as you let out a shriek. Your hair flew straight behind you in the cold wind.

"Gwen, I fucking believe you now," you choked out into her ear. You could barely speak in your terror. The eyes of her suit went wide and she aimed for the top of another building.

She landed perfectly en pointe, her converse flexing to match the arch of her technique.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

Gwen's apology was cut short as you gripped her broad shoulders.

"You're motherfucking Spider-Woman!" you yelled in awe. A thick sheet of rain was nearing as Gwen's eyes welled behind the mask.

"You don't think I'm a bad person? Or...or a freak?" she whispered shakily. Your face softened. You slid your hands up from her shoulders, caressing her face. Her eyes squinted before closing as she leaned into your touch. She reached her own hand up and cupped yours. Gwen's soul lit afire as she stared at your gorgeous face, felt the warmth of your love and bare skin.

You simply shook your head.

"What a dumb question. You're my best friend. And when you left, I...I mean, I guess I just didn't know what to do with myself. I lost a part of me."

The words coming out of your mouth felt wrong. Gwen's heart screamed in desolation. Maybe you would never understand.

Best friend.

"You lost a part of yourself, but I couldn't breathe without you," she murmured, bringing her other hand up to find more ways to touch you.

Your heart began to pound as her fingers laced with yours. The rain began to fall over you, drenching Gwen for the second time that night. What did she mean by that? You could have sworn you felt her rapid pulse intensify even more as you experimentally pressed your forehead against hers.

"Gwen..."

You brought your hands (still cupping her face) down to the base of her mask, forcing her own hands to fall away. You traced circles into her skin before gently sliding the disguise up above her lips.

Gwen painfully rasped your name while her digits found your skin again, this time resting timidly on the small of your back. She needed this so badly from you all these years, even more so as your face became a tale, something she could only dream of.

"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Please, please, please, just kiss me and never let me leave your side again, I'd do anything for you, Y/N-" she began to sob, but you caught her trembling lips in yours. Gwen immediately pulled you deeper into her hold, your bodies fitting together like a beautiful puzzle. Her fingers tangled into your hair and she pulled her mask all the way off. Her hood fell and her blonde waves began to frizz and tighten with the rain.

She savored the taste of your lip balm and the remnants of your bedtime herbal tea, picking you up and allowing you to wrap your legs around her. You pulled away, breathless and eyes filled with the starlight that the stormy midnight lacked.

"I love you, Gwen," you breathed. "But you're back for a reason. I don't know what reason that is, but you have to do it. We're counting on you."

Gwen nodded, dropping you safely and kneeling down to fit her mask back over her face and to allow you to cling to her.

"You forgot something, Ghost-Spider," you teased, sliding her hood over her head.

She scoffed, looking back at you with narrowed eyes. "That's Gwen to you."

In no time, you were delivered back to your warm bed. The rain pattered soothingly against your window while Gwen dried her suit off with a towel you lent to her. She eventually settled for just laying the towel down on your bed and sitting on it.

"So...are you my superhero girlfriend now, or am I about to wake up from the most story-oriented dream of my life?"

Gwen laughed softly. Everything in her life was fucked, but you brought a glow back to her existence. She had something to look forward to now. She pushed her hand to lock with yours.

"For the record, if this is a dream, then you and I are definitely imaginary girlfriends. But, since this is hopefully real life..." she assured, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I'm your superhero girlfriend." You began to fluster, heat creeping across your cheeks.

Gwen stood up, still holding your smaller hand in her stronger grasp.

"Which unfortunately also means I've gotta do superhero girlfriend stuff," she sighed, brushing her hair behind her heavily pierced ear. She looked at you apologetically as your grip on her tightened.

"Hey, we'll see each other again. I promise," she whispered, pressing a sugary kiss to your lips before backing away, her fingers slipping out of your reach. She pulled her mask down swiftly before turning around and leaping out of your window.

"I love you!" you shouted after her. Gwen beamed as she jumped through the city, posing in a recital-like fashion for the cameras when she lowered to the streets.

The rain didn't feel so cold anymore.

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a/n: thanks for reading!! if you're sapphic and in love with gwen then. definitely check my other gwen fics out hehe. been thinkingggg about a villain gwen x fem!reader au? let me know by sending smth to my inbox as a request or commenting !

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cookie-crumblr · 24 days

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✨My Dastardly Villain~✨

F!Hero Reader x M!Villain Yan OC

Part 1~

His Info: 💰✨

Part 1 _ Next Part>>>

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F!Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, general violence, reader drinks alcohol, reader’s alia’s is Solar (powers include teleportation, and fire control), dub con (both parties are tipsy), explicit language, reader has tits, unprotected sex- I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS ONE GAIS I LOVE KAI I HOPE U DO 2 🙈✨, P IN V, oral on ML, umm like slight bdsm if you squint i think… and i think that’s it!

Song rec: Bop it up! by the marias

Anything in This Colour happened in the past:

An explosion inside the bank sends ripples of vibrations through the streets of New York City.

“He’s just so destructive! It’s so lame! and counterproductive,” You take a long hard swig of your drink.

He nods along with your complaints, enthusiastic as he listens.

The dive bar is full of greasy food, and even greasier patrons. it’s the perfect hole in the wall place to escape.

You’re conversing with a handsome man that’s wearing a black crop top and some grey washed jeans with silver chains decorating every inch of him. Though you have to admit your eyes are dying to see underneath all that.

You snap one of the villain, Sobek’s, obvious traps as you enter the bank.

“Oh my gods!” He responds, “What an absolute asshole! My own co worker is always getting in my way and trying to mess with my process!” He groans while rolling his eyes.

A orb of water whizzes past your head, you look up and find Sobek with a person hovering above the ground, only their lower half in the bubble so they don’t drown, but gods does it look uncomfy hanging there! “SOBEK!!” You roar! “Put that person down!”

“She’s always telling me what to do, like she knows what’s best!” He takes his turn with a swig of his fruity cocktail, but it makes him grimace.

You giggle at his obvious distaste for alcohol. “These idiots we work with really suck.” You say, trying to hold in any stray laughs.

“I’ll toast to that,” He holds up his glass, swaying a little as he does.

“Woah there sailor, someone’s a little tipsy” You reach up to take his glass and fall over onto him.

Catching himself, and you, on the edge of the bar, he says, “You sure you’re not?” and laughs, it’s such a beautiful and honest laugh, all the sounds of the drink machines rumbling and patrons’ boisterous voices fade as only his laughter filters through your ears.

You’re hyper focused on just him now, noticing how soft his hand is on your arm. You admire the way his big veins bulge under his dark skin as they run over the flexed muscles of his forearm.

He looks like a swimmer with some resistance training. you had been admiring his exposed belly for a while… And now you’re touching every ridge of taught muscle, you can’t help but glide your hand down the washboard, you tug on his silver chain that lays lazily over his hips.

You feel hot, and forget to breathe while still leaning over top of him. You hear him sigh out practically in your ear! You didn’t realize just how close you two actually are!

“Ah, um… Sorry, I-I guess I must be pretty tipsy…”You push yourself up, using his thigh… every part of him is so solid, like bricks of gold beneath your weight.

You’re both well over your limits, it would be a bad idea.

His dark brown eyes enrapture you, so full of lust and life, and vigor. He wants you too.

It’s such a bad idea…

“I-I should go,” as you pull away from him, his hand remains loosely floating in the air, lingering where it held you. He doesn’t move to chase you.

You stumble home feeling like you’re floating. You keep thinking about his eyes, how deep and warm they were…

No! stop thinking about him! You missed your chance, don’t go fantasizing now! At least not when you’re outside your nice comfy bed.

Once in your apartment you hurry, stripping as you cross the living room. You slip on some night clothes and go to brush your teeth when you start thinking about him again…

*Pop* you’re teleported from your bathroom to somewhere else, randomly, again!

Shit! This keeps happening! You have the power to teleport, sure… But you can’t control it!

And now you’re even more dizzy as the world spins from the drinks earlier.

As you calm down from your instantaneous, and unexpected jump in space, and grab your head, you start to look around the room…

You’re in a stranger’s bathroom! and the guy from earlier is now right in front of you!

He’s in a loosely held towel, hung low around his hips.He’s still wearing that little waist chain and your eyes linger. That perfect V just in your peripherals but you’re frozen to the spot, staring right at the center of his hips.

“um… Welcome to my place…?” In utter confusion, he stretches up and messes with his hair.

Oh gods… When he lifts his arm over his head, his muscles all over his body just—

You’re still just standing there, staring!

“S-sorry! I don’t know how this keeps happening!” You finally thaw and cover your face while spinning to give him privacy.

“You keep teleporting into people’s bathrooms when theyre naked!?”

“N-No!! i’m not— I’m not some pervert!! I just… Can’t control when or where I teleport—s-sometimes…”

He laughs, “Huh, sure.” He’s not convinced, but he’s not upset by the development, “well… Now that you’re back, wanna… Pick up where we left off?” He tries to sound cool, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t just scared shitless when a random person teleported to his sacred space without any warning.

However, he’d also be lying if he said he was anything but excited with who it turned out to be.

“And…” You look over your shoulder at him through your lashes, “Where did we leave off?”

There is fluttering in your stomach, maybe it’s the alcohol but… Nope. It’s really not. He’s just magnetic.

“you had your hands all over me,” he says with a shit eating grin.

Your skin alights, it’s burning hot and not because of your fire powers. You feel this heat.

“You also had more clothes on…” You say coyly.

“Just get over here,” he commands, which you follow promptly.

“Can I?” You ask a little shyly, hovering your fingers just over the promise lands of his body.

“Be my guest,” He smiles down at you, bringing his arm down so he can caress your cheek. His skin smells so sweet, like almonds.

You put your hand on his chest before sliding it down, swallowing hard as it gets lower and lower… Over that waist chain, and tugging on it, when it’s at its limit it flies back up and tickles him. his belly flexes inward a little under your still roaming hand.

Your eyes follow, wide and filled with wonder at his prospects. He hesitates before letting the towel fall to the floor.

Youre still looking him over when you realize youre still somewhat covered.

You start to strip, dragging it out just a little as you do.

First slipping off the shorts under your big top, holding them up and dropping them next to the discarded towel. Keeping eye contact with your mouth slightly agape, ready and wanting.

You pick up the edges of your top and roll it up a little before you pull it up over your head.

Once undressed you step closer, and reach up around his neck, you feel his hot and hard dick rub against your belly and whine because it’s not already in you.

You jump up and wrap your legs around his waist, he catches you without a problem, and feeling that thing under you is like being on a -very hot- cloud.

You’re both smiling like dorks, and colliding lips and smashing teeth alike, you can’t get enough of eachother and you haven’t even felt eachother yet.

He pushes you up against a wall first, tongue roaming your panting and open mouth, feeling every one of your ticklish little spots. Your soft sounds come out a higher pitch as he continues to torment you.

His massive hands are on your ass, digging in and spreading your cheeks, wishing that they could explore your body further still, but loving the squish of every kneed while they stay.

He groans ravenously in your ear, as he pulls you off the wall and sits you on the counter instead. His head moves down your front and drapes a leg over his shoulder. He’s peppering little kisses and nips all the way down. You’re breathing is becoming ragged, and he’s mesmerized by the way your tits move as your lungs fill up and empty.

“You’re so hot,” He spreads your lips with his thumb and presses his molten tip to your opening.

“Oh my gods!” You whine excitedly!

When he pushes into you he does so slowly and backs out every centimeter or so to push back in further, oh the effect is maddening! “Y-you Liar,” You moan.

“pfff what!?” He bottoms out while scoffing.

“About being shy!” You say before he pulls out to pound into you once and thrashes your whole body, sending a shockwave through you. You grab onto his shoulders fast! “OoooOh!” You whimper.

“C’mon, you’re not gonna finish on me already are you?” He smiles something fierce, that has you clenching, “If i see a ring before i say, you’re getting punished.”

“N-no! i didn’t agree to that!” You complain, before he smacks your clit, making you jump and whine harder. You think you just came, you’re squeezing and fluttering inside but the build up didn’t stop! and, oh shit…

“I didn’t say you could yet,” He tsks, and picks your other leg up putting that one over his other shoulder.

You feel so stretched, and he can reach so much deeper~ “Ah~!” gasps and moans leave you lips in a melody that he wants to put on repeat.

Knocking on the door startles you, but he keeps pounding into you, “Kai Mallory! You better not be doing what it sounds like you’re doing in OUR bathroom!”

“Shit.” He pulls out after a minute of hard debating.

“Who’s that?” You whisper.

“My mom…” He groans and wipes off his face.

He helps you down off the counter. and you both get cleaned up and decent before opening the bathroom door, heads down in shame.

“Sorry mom”

“I did not raise you like this!” She pinches his ear to bring him down to her level. “You’re lucky your sister isn’t home!”

You try to hold in any giggles, but it’s kinda cute funny seeing such a big tough guy let his mom do whatever.

She relents and walks away, before turning back and holding up two fingers to her eyes, and pointing them at you both in a “i’m watching you” motion.

“Sorry about that,”

“It’s all good! I didn’t know you lived at home!” or his name! “Kai.” You sigh it out.

“Come with me, I at least have my own room” He laughs a little embarrassedly.

His palm is warm in your own, you let him lead you down the hall.

His room is nice and clean! and he has a bed frame!!! score!

He lays down and pats the bed next to him.

“I can help you with your teleportation problem,” He’s laying with his eyes closed and his arms behind his head. “If you want…”

“Really!? You’re super?” You climb onto the bed but stay near his waist.

“N-no! definitely not!” he bolts back up.

“Kai…?” Your body is still so hot, and he didn’t get to finish…

“Yeah?”

“C-can I help you finish?” You ask, your hands timidly pawing at his shorts.

“um, yes. is that even a question? hah!”

You pull his short band down and his dick flings out already hard, it looks so painful… His slit pulses as his cock twitches, and leaks some pre.

“So big…” You put your tongue to his wet tip, it still tastes like you. You groan against it, and his hips roll just barely.

His stomach sinks in as he breathes and becomes more excited.

You wanted to play with him a little more but you both just want to cum, you start to play with yourself as you take him into your throat.

You relax it as best as you can but your still gagging around his length.

“You okay?” He asks sweetly.

You hold up a thumbs up “mmhmm~” and bob your head on his dick. As you pull back your head tilts up putting more pressure underneath his cock and as you go back down your head tilts down to give it that pleasurable pause all while his head and glands get sucked and taken so deeply.

You’re massaging him with your tongue and tasting him, and you’re both so excited.

Your fingers spin on your clit and as you cum for the second time that night, so does he.

“mmf!!!” Your throat is filled with a tsunami of cum, you swallow and swallow but there’s still more! some seeps out of your lips around him, you try to lick it up, but he’s already seen. He grabs your jaw in his palm, your mouth still around his dick.

“You let some out…” he wipes your chin with his thumb.

As you stare up into his eyes, you swallow again and realize he’s still hard.

“What’s your name?” he asks, with a dorky smile on his face, and his cock still down your throat.

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thikkiesixx · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson Fic Recommendations

I have so many fics in my likes and i really just wanna share my favorite ones with you guys.

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** means smut, if it doesnt have ** before the summary, theres no smut.

Multipart Fics~ most are still ongoing

junie baby ~ summary: you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors. written by @luveline (i am so obsessed with this one it hurts, everything by this writer is so good.)

tear you apart ~ **summary: He knew every single button to push to piss you off. He was arrogant, obnoxious, and impossible. You were cold, unavailable - a nightmare. So why couldn’t you keep your hands off each other? written by @idiot-parade

seeing stars ~ **summary: A new girl with a mysterious air to her and a questionable past comes to Hawkins. She’s armed with a gauntlet of jewelry and the sharpest wit Eddie’s ever come across. After a chance encounter at a party, Eddie becomes a bit smitten with her. The problem is, she’s an unreadable brick wall when she’s sober. Will Eddie’s attentive persistence help him break down the walls she’s put up to protect herself from not getting hurt? Or will Eddie be the one who ends up with wounds to hide? A story about learning lessons the hard way when it comes to letting people in. Vulnerability and honesty will always be rewarded. Even if it doesn’t feel that way at first. written by @boogiewrites (personal fav, the smut is so good, and its so well written.)

take me on ~ summary: Your first day at Hawkins High sees you paired up on an English assignment with the apparently infamous Eddie Munson. With a heart still aching from the circumstances of your move, you eventually come to find that this unexpected partner of yours might be exactly what you’d been needing. written by @softmetalhead

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One-shots

move me, baby ~ **summary: Cheer tryouts are right around the corner. A wrench in his plans makes Eddie see you in a new light. He just hopes others haven’t noticed too. 6.7k words. written by @cryptidcasanova

do it yourself ~ ** summary: about how fucking sexy mechanic!eddie is and how he’d be a greasy mess and would either not want to get you dirty and have you do everything or he wouldn’t care and get you so so messy. 2.4k words. written by @maladaptive-day-dreams (im a whore for mechanic!eddie)

dumplin' ~ summary: : the stress of a new baby has your relationship at the worst it’s ever been, and eddie’s past childhood is worrying him sick about becoming a father. written by @rainylana

"looks like im going to prom" ~ **summary: he doesn’t want to go. he thinks you don’t either, until he catches you staring off into the distance with that look in your eye. written by @rainylana

"do you want to have sex" ~ **summary: after a long day of pointless arguments and a game of who has the biggest balls?, you find yourself face first into pillows and hands tied to a headboard. written by @rainylana (obviously i like this writer, good shit there)

so what is wrong with another sin ~ **summary: a random hookup at a bar that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about makes another appearance in your life in the most unexpected way. 6.4k. written by @augustslippedavvay

baby, when i think about you, i think about love ~ summary: you surprise eddie with tickets to see his favorite band live. 2.5k words. written by @augustslippedavvay

not alone tonight ~ summary: Life's weighing down on you more than it ever has before, but it's the middle of the night and there's only one person and revelation capable of easing your mind. 3.5k. written by @majestyeverlasting

downpour ~ summary: Eddie had been in love with you since the summer before freshman and came up with a perfect way to confess to you the summer after graduation. Too bad there's a rain storm coming. 3.5k words. written by @siempre-bucky

menace ~ summary: Telling a guy at a party that you have a boyfriend doesn't seem to deter him. Probably because that guy is your boyfriend and you're too drunk to realize. 4k words. written by @retrobutterflies

velvet kisses ~ summary: Your shitty job has you turning to your almost-boyfriend for help, making both of you admit the full extent of your feelings. 4k words. written by@ retrobutterflies

dead channels ~ summary: Eddie finds dead channels on a walkie-talkie to vent about his feelings and everything he goes through. One day, you happen to stumble upon his frequency. 11k words. written by @robiin-buckley

outloud ~ summary: When you and Robin pass notes in class about Eddie Munson, the teacher calls you both out for it, confiscating the notes. To make matters worse, she reads the notes out loud catching the attention of the very special freak. written by@ iheartyouyou

good boy ~ **summary: good boy: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van. 7k words. written by @peterthepark

insatiable girl (pt 2 of good boy) ~ **summary: following the events of good boy, eddie finds himself conflicted about your relationship. when he catches a case of the jealousy bug, eddie just has to show you how much you actually mean to him. written by @peterthepark

wrapped around your finger ~ **summary: when you see something you weren’t supposed to jealously pays you a visit. eddie can’t believe what’s gotten into his usually quiet girlfriend, but he has no problem reminding you that he’s yours. 7k words. written by @lilacletter

new sensation ~ summary: The flirty friendship you’ve always had with roommate!Eddie is threatened when a game of spin the bottle gets a little out of hand. Bed sharing, mutual pining, light angst, fluff, everyone is 21+. 8.4k words. written by @darkdarkroom (roommate!eddie is my FAVORITE trope, hits every single time.)

thick with desire ~ **summary: When your boyfriend Eddie’s shirt doesn’t fit, you start to feel like you don’t deserve him. But Eddie is having none of it, not when he finally gets to see how beautiful you are. 7k words. written by @gothbitchshit

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i have so many more if anyone would be interested in another post like this, like i said, ive read HUNDREDS of them LMAO.

#eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfics

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kittlesandbugs · 11 months

Note

HELLO 👁️👄👁️ I'm going to challenge you... Feeling for each other in the dark, with Steel and Riley. Can be pre or post-HB, I'm not picky :wrex:

TY FOR THE CHALLENGE it's fun to write not-shippy stuff sometimes :D Pairing: Teensy bit Chargestep Warnings: Nothing much, just two slightly antagonistic comrades stuck in the dark without their mutual friend idiot. Word Count: 710 Not alone. You're not alone in this tunnel. The relief is almost instant.

You feel his mind coming to, a slow clearing drag of fogged confusion before snap-sharp focus. He's slow. Methodical. Military-trained. Analyzing the situation. Where he is. What happened. How to proceed.

The way his mind works is a little too close for comfort.

Without him knowing you're there, the solid brick walls encasing even his surface thoughts are gone. In this pitch black, neither of you can see anything. His helmet is damaged. He's frustrated about that, not sure if the rubble or the explosion knocked out the optics. Either way, useless. There's a clang of metal on rock paired with the instant relief of fresh air as he discards the face plate. And more frustration when it's still pitch black.

He climbs to his feet, mechanical joints grinding with dust and gravel. At least he isn't trapped. You couldn't help him right now. The gears grind more as he moves around, and he sighs. That's at least a few hours in the shop when they get back. He does all his own maintenance. Something you've admired but never said.

"Is anyone here?" he asks.

"Just me, I think," you call back.

Instant offensive defense, the brick shield snaps into place.

"Sidestep." His voice is as dense and flat as his mind now. "Is anyone else here?"

"If they are, they're unconscious. I can't sense anyone." You aren't worried though. "I can sense some of the others, they're digging us out." Anathema's thoughts are especially sharp. She'll find you, you're certain of it. But it'll take a while in this labyrinth. They're being careful about further cave ins.

"Are you hurt?"

You have to think about that one before you answer. You don't trust him but… you can't defend yourself. And he is very duty bound. "I think my knee is dislocated. I can't put weight on it."

It's been a dull throb thanks to the pain-gate, and you're certain if it were broken, you'd be in a lot more pain. Small favors.

"Where are you?"

"I think behind you. Against the wall. Your voice is going away from me." It's nice when the stupid shit beaten into your head actually comes in handy.

You hear the scuffle of boots against gravel sliding around you, the servos still clogged and angry. Following the wall. Is he trying not to step on you? Huh…

"Fuck!" But then his foot hits yours and jostles your knee. "You would hit that one."

"I'm sorry." He actually does sound sorry. "Is that your left or right side?"

"Left."

More angry servos whirring, definitely clogged up joints because now you can hear the grinding, and a thud as he takes a seat right beside you.

"Scared to be alone?" you ask, teasing because you don't know what else to say to him. Ever since he saw your face, he's been more distant. More disapproving. You haven't been able to hash out why, and you're pretty sure it's not just because Ortega kisses you.

"No." And then a few moments later. "You're injured. If they accidentally trigger another cave while digging us out, I can protect you."

"Why?" you ask sharply, not sure what to make of this. That's… more consideration than you ever thought Steel would have for you.

He sighs, and you still can't see past the wall of his shields. "I may not entirely trust you, but you are a comrade. I trust that you would do the same if our positions were reversed."

"... oh."

Maybe it's the pitch dark. But it feels easier to accept his implied help. Maybe he isn't entirely like your old handler after all.

"... Thank you. I would," you say quietly.

He grunts an acknowledgement and then falls silent. This is weird. He's being weird. It doesn't take long before being left with your thoughts and his silence makes you feel more claustrophobic than your actual situation.

"Hey, Steel?"

"Yes?"

"Pawn to B5."

"Really?" He huffs a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. "Without the board?"

"Too challenging?" you taunt, grinning in the dark.

"No. Let me think," he says, and then you aren't sure how many minutes pass. "... Pawn to C4."

#kitbug writes things #fhr #wei chen #sidestep #steel #riley owens #the sidestep days #prompt fill #maybe you guys were less antagonistic than riley remembers #trauma fucking with memories and that sort of thing lol

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kteezy997 · 1 year

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I’m With You-Part Four// Lee (Bones and All)

Warnings: kissing, major fluff, cursing, Lee “cheating”, upset reader, reader triggered into thinking about her past

You and Lee walked into the gates of the carnival together, following a dad carrying his little daughter up on his shoulders. You and Lee smiled upon hearing the young girl giggle. He took your hand, leading you to the ferris wheel.

The two of you continued to hold hands as you rode the ride. It was fun looking over the area and all the people from up above and to feel Lee’s hand in yours. He turned his head, a soft smile spread over his lips. You blinked, taking in the adoring look in his gaze. It felt like the entire moment was in slow motion.

Lee closed his eyes, leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and gentle, but eager. You kissed him back, feeling a sense of relief. Finally, it was happening. The last few days, it had been hard to suppress what you’d been feeling. You knew it was fast, but it was such an adrenaline rush. Your entire body felt warm and tingly. You had never felt better in your whole life.

He touched your face, holding your cheek delicately as he kissed you deeper and deeper. He put his arm around you, pulling you close to him. Eventually, he pulled away, “Wow.” he said. "Yeah." you said, at a loss of anything else to say. "That was perfect." Lee said, placing his forehead on yours, gently. "Let's do it again." you said, grinning, and he smirked right back at you.

Your ride on the ferris wheel came to an end and you held hands as you got off. You had never been a part of a couple before, but this felt like this was it. The two of you walked around the carnival, playing games here and there. After a while, all the walking and the driving earlier in the day was making you tired. "Lee, do you wanna head back to the truck? I'm getting sleepy." you admitted.

"Oh okay, you go ahead, I'm gonna grab something to eat, though. I'll be there soon." You slipped your arms around his bicep, "Okay." you kissed his cheek. "See you in a bit." "Wait." he said, taking a gentle hold onto your arms. "What?" you asked him, smiling like an idiot, but you didn't care. "You missed." he replied, leaning in and panting a soft kiss on your lips. You giggled happily through the kiss and pulled away. You felt him watching you protectively as you left him. You made your way to the truck, and got in, laying down across the seat, relaxing. You felt so blissful, you were falling in love, you just knew it.

Lee got a lemonade to drink, as he sat on a short brick wall near one of the rides, and he just waited. He was people watching. But under the surface, there was something more happening. He had done this before, unfortunately many times. He knew what he was looking for, more like: who he was looking for.

There was a certain type of person that Lee looked for every time. He never planned it, things just usually happened. He hated this part of himself. But it was a means to an end. He had to do it. He looked across the way, a carnie was razzing a little kid about throwing the ball underhand. "Now, don't come back unless you've got more tickets. But you'd be wasting your money anyway." The carnie said smugly.

Now this was the type of human Lee was hunting for. He had a nasty, hateful attitude. There was no way he had a girlfriend, wife, or anyone in his life that truly loved him. This was it. Lee approached the man, flirted a bit, and they made plans to meet up when he closed up, to hang out and smoke weed. "See you in an hour?" Lee asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "Yeah, you will."

You were in the truck by yourself for awhile, a little longer than expected. But just as you began to worry about him, Lee appeared outside the truck. "Hey, miss me?" he said with a smirk, upon opening the driver's door and climbing into the truck. "I did, actually." "Aw," he cooed, putting his arm around you, "you're so cute." He pressed a kiss to your temple.

"I got a guy that'll come around in a little while to sell me some weed. Hope that's okay." he said plainly. "Weed?" you frowned at him, "Lee, don't you think we should save our cash for more important things?" "It's okay, babe. We'll be fine, don't worry." He touched your face, running his thumb over your cheek and he kissed you on the forehead in a comforting and reassuring way.

You sat together in the truck, listening to the radio and cuddling. Lee held you in his arms as you sat in between his legs and your head was laying against his chest. You could hear his heart beating. Lee rested his head on the window as he softly sang along to the songs. He somehow knew just about every tune that came on. You couldn’t think of a time in your life where you felt more at ease, or so loved.

After a while, you noticed someone coming near the truck. Lee saw him too, "Just give me a few minutes." he said, moving slowly so you could sit up and he could exit the truck. The guy outside didn't pay you any mind, he was focused on Lee. You could hear them talking, though the sound of their voices was muffled some.

"Your girlfriend leave?" Carnival Guy asked Lee. "Man, I told you: she was just a friend." You couldn't help but be hurt by this. That wasn't your Lee out there. It was like he was putting on some sort of show, but for what? You saw Carnival Guy smile at what he had heard. "You smoke right?" he asked Lee, holding a joint out to him as Lee approached him. Lee was grinning, "Yeah, man."

He took the joint from the carnie, brought it up to his mouth, taking a drag. He blew out some smoke, then he tucked his arm around the other man, kissing him roughly. Your heart dropped. How could Lee kiss someone else after kissing you on the ferris wheel earlier? You had such a romantic evening together. You felt like he was your boyfriend. Now it was like all of that went out the window.

Lee moved his mouth to the carnie's neck, biting him a little, and the two men pushed each other, flirting intensely. "Kinky fucker." you heard the other man say. Lee chuckled, taking another toke from the joint and running into the cornfield across the road from where you were in the parked truck. Carnival guy followed right behind him.

You had never felt so betrayed, or stupid in your life. Even when your parents kicked you out, it wasn't unexpected, because they had been so indifferent to you for your whole eighteen years. But with Lee, things were totally opposite. You thought he cared about you, he wanted you, maybe even loved you. You were at a loss. You were confused. You wanted to see what in the world was going on with him. You decided to confront him, no matter what he was doing with Carnival Guy.

@chalabagellunafluff @gatoenlaciudad @sexylifestylesblog @quicksilversg1rl

#bonesandallfilm #lee bones and all #bonesandallfanfiction #timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n

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a-chaos-god-and-a-warden · 4 months

Text

(Merry late Christmas)

Chapter 1: Introduction

What a horrible thing, boredom. Boredom in superjail? Even worse. Superjail never has static days, the Warden would never allow that, but somehow boredom still found it's way into his mind. He already checked with the doctor's new developments, Alice is on a date with that same idiotic animal, and getting entertainment from Jared was a dead end. Just how many pyramids of plastic animals is he going to make today? At this point his office has full of them. Looking out his window,

"Maybe superjail needs a lil-"

A large flash of light followed by a loud bang like thunder and lightning.

"What the hell!?"

Smoke emerges from one of the cell blocks, specifically cell block #35. Something is strange about the smoke, it's slightly blue?

The Warden turns and heads towards the office door, stepping over the ruin remains of his animal pyramids,

"Dammit! I spent all day making those pyramids what a waste! JARED!"

Outside his door, the little man was already there. Jared has holding paper containing, honestly who cares.

"Jared! Don't tell its the Mistress and her stupid ship again!"

"No sir, it's something else entirely! There's already speculation that it could be an alien!"

Curiosity peaked in the Warden's eyes,

"An alien? Well then let's give this alien an earthly welcome! After all we're the first humans they'll meet! Let me do the introductions Jared!"

They hastily make their way towards the crash site,

"But sir! We don't know anything about this being! What if it's hostile?

"Well Jared I guess there's only one way to find out!"

Around them inmates run past them in a panic, and up ahead the one and only woman runs with them. Although not away from what ever is causing panic, but to join the two men,

"Ah Alice! Did you get anything on our 'visitor'?"

"I don't know. The fucking inmates are acting like lil bitches. It got too crowded and I couldn't run that way I had to ride with the current, or whatever."

The warden puts an hand on Alice's shoulder, which Alice shoves off,

"It's okay Alice, I totally understand! You did your best! Which is more then Jared does, now where's Jailbot?"

As if in cue, Jailbot bursts in leaving a Jailbot hole in the wall. The debris flys, smashing running inmates. For some reason never hitting the staff,

"Speak of the devil! Jailbot you wouldn't happen to know what this is?"

Jailbot, despite not actually saying any words, beeps a no,

"Well in that case I guess the only thing left to do is to meet this thing!"

"But sir!-"

"Shut up Jared!"

Off they went towards where all of the commotion start. Getting close to the crash site, they see that the broken walls pieces are growing legs? Some have eyes?

"Sir let's turn back! We can get jailbot to exterminate this thing!"

"And start a universal war? I think not!"

Finally they arrive at the crash site. There's a huge yellow pyramid straight out of Egypt, but there's limbs and a top hat. By the way the limbs and the hat were positioned, one would assume what ever this thing is was lying face down.

The Warden feels disappointed at the fact that this thing is dead. At least the docter would have fun dissecting it. Still, being ambassadors for earth was such a fun daydream,

"Uh, I think it's dead"

"You may be right Alice, such a s-"

Suddenly the thing starts moving. First using it's arms to lift itself up, revealing a bowtie, and a single eye. It also revealed a crack next it's bowtie. The thing was murmuring something about,

"Damn it I can't believe they gave me a crack, fucking cheapskates"

Suddenly the creature shrunk, from pyramid to a bright 2 dimensional triangle. The crack in it's bricks disappeared. The thing readjusted it's hat and bowtie and spawned a cane out of thin air. The Warden was astonished,

"Oh my how distinguished!"

The creature pointed at the Warden,

"Hey you! Eggplant! I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're the man in charge of this place! Where am I?"

The warden was admittedly taken back by the comment. Not the worst thing he's been called but possibly one of the oddest,

"Well, haha, I'm not an eggplant. My name is actually the Warden, and you're in Superjail!"

He makes a little demonstration via a rainbow graphic.

The odd triangle squints his eye, "Superjail huh..." And suddenly, a flurry of images flash on his bricks. Images that were definitely superjail. His eye suddenly widens,

"Superjail! You've got a nice prison going on here Eggplant!"

The rainbow graphic above the Warden’s head withers and dies like that plant you're not watering as his smile dwindled,

"again, not Eggplant"

Bill spins his cane nonchalantly,

"sure thing Eggplant"

"It's not Eggplant"

"Okay Eggplant"

"Not Eggplant!"

"uh-huh"

"well nuh-UH"

The Warden debates in his head whether he should argue or just let it slide. His name, The Warden, means a lot to him. It's quite the title, it's powerful dammit! Why not play at this strange triangle's game?

"Well sir uh, ah, Weirdangle! Yeah that fits. You've destroyed a part of my prison Sir Weirdangle. That's destruction of private property! I should arrest you!"

Sir Weirdangle gives The Warden a blank stare before bursting into laughter, his odd body curling in as he holds his stomach(?) and laughs. Now it could be laughing because of the nickname or the audacity of the threat. Both options made The Warden feel small in a way.

"Sir" Jared whispered, "there's something disturbing about this thing!"

The Warden waves Jared off, "Shh, dont be rude!!"

Sir Weirdangle stops laughing to give The Warden an amused stare,

"Real funny Eggplant! You ought to be a comedian!"

The Warden contrasted this stare with an unamused stare,

"I wasn't joking Sir Weirdangle"

The triangle floated closer to The Warden so that they were on eye level,

"Please, Call me Bill, Bill Cipher!'

Bill held his hand for The Warden to shake. The Warden withdrew his hands with disgust,

"I'm not shaking your hand! What if you have alien cooties?"

Bill gave him a questioning look,

"Alien cooties? What? First off, not physically possibly. Second you humans have more cooties and little organisms crawling on your face than any 'alien' I've ever encountered!"

The Warden look at Bill with a bit of concerned, looked to his hands, and back at Bill

"You're just saying that! That can't be true! I shower everyday mind you!"

Cipher shook his head? Body?

"nuh-uh it's the truth. No amount of showering will ever wash off the mites living in your eyelashes"

"WHAT"

"relax, it's not like they're harmful'

The Warden raised an eyebrow and decided ignorance was bliss and to let it go.

And now,

they reached a dead end,

in conversation.

The almost forgotten staff members looked at each other in a, 'so now what?' until Alice sighed,

"I'm going back to my r-"

"NO!" The Warden had a random burst of energy, quite literally, sparks were flying.

The others looked at him confused.

The Warden had too high expectations from the short time they walked here to give up on this interaction,

"I'm sorry, um, Will Piper. This is on me honestly. I must have been too preoccupied by the feeling of xenophobia to focus what this really is all about!"

Bill raised an eyebrow,

"You got my name wrong but continue."

The Warden waved his arms in the air,

"THE DISCOVERY OF SOMETHING NEW! You're an alien! You fell put of the sky like an- wait did you fall out of the sky? That part was never clear."

Bill shrugged,

"well in a way. I was actually body slammed here from another dimension by this annoying demigo-"

The Warden waved him off

"Doesn't matter. Anyways, you're a completely new thing! And that is exactly what Superjail needed before you arrived!"

As The Warden said this he put his arms in the air emitting glitter everywhere that will never get out of anyone's clothes

Bill waved away the glitter with some of it still sticking to his bowtie,

"That’s great Eggplant, but listen I can't stay here for long. I'm pretty busy! Who knows who'd want to make another deal next?"

The Warden was struggling,

"Well how long DO you have? I could give you a tour! A grand tour of Superjail! I could show you all the places, the corners, the ends, the kinks and the dinks. The whole zinks!"

The triangle's eye swirled in his socket as he thought about it,

"HmmmmmmmmmmMMMMmmmmmmMMMMMM hm hmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMmm hm hm HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm oh why the heck not!"

The Warden spun around at those words,

"Brilliant! Jailbot!"

The bot beeped back in response

"Let's go on tour!" The Warden gestures for Jailbot to come over.

To which it does so it floats over and then turns into a floating carriage with three rows of seats, only two of these rows will be used. The Warden jumps into the first row and excitingly pats the seat behind him while gesturing Bill to come over. Bill then does a funny thing. He fazes through the floor, The Warden stops his motions,

"Bob?"

"It's Bill, Eggplant"

Bill had fazed upwards through Jailbot and onto the second row. Warden jolted,

"Gah!"

"Sweet ride you got here Eggplant."

"Ah- uh well yes! Jailbot here is the sweetest ride there is! Figuratively and literally! Now then, onwards Jailbot!"

And Jailbot did go onwards, straight into a wall, leaving Jared and Alice to think about what to do next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Over there is where we have our infamous superbar! You should go sometime. Aaand over there is where the cafeteria is! Oh! Oh! That's my office in that tower over there! Ooo that cell block is where the Gays are located. Also-"

"The gays?

They had been floating above Superjail for a while as The Warden pointed out little bits of his jail and Bill was leaned forward to listen.

"Yeah the gays!"

"Is this a cult or something? What is it?"

The Warden shrugged,

"No they're just a gay couple"

Bill raised his eyebrow,

"Okay, but what makes them stand out from other gays? Isn't this an all male prison? What makes them special?"

"They are, they just are."

Bill leans back,

"Well how?"

The Warden was fumbling,

"ack- uhm- they're- I'll just show you"

Warden faces forward,

"Jailbot find the gays"

Jailbot does just that as the thing sinks downwards to where the gays resided. It then wrecked the wall of the lovely home(prison cell) of the gays. Paul was the first to notice...

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Jean was the second,

"OUR WAL- what is that!?"

The Warden gestures towards Bill,

"This is Bill! So Bill these are the gays!"

Bill squints,

"uh-huh, nice. Hey are your walls always this gray?"

The Warden turns to Bill while ignoring the complants of the gays,

"Hm? Well yeah, why?"

"It's dull, change it, like..."

Bill reached out to touch the wall outside the cell and then it exploded in streams of orange, yellow, pink, and red. The Warden's head poked out of the cell as he watched these streams that flowed through the wall,

"Oh I get what you mean! Oh! I have something to add on!"

He pushed the cell's bars to get through and let go of them as they snapped back into place like rubber bands behind him. The Warden walked up to the now colorful wall. He tapped one of the orange streams and led it upwards straight up until it blossomed green. Bill had slid out of the cell easily considering he was a flat shape,

"Wowza! Make more!"

"Right on!"

And he did. The Warden had made four other trees among the streams of warm colors. He backtracked towards Bill,

"What should we add?"

Bill shrugs,

"It's your wall."

The Warden clasps his hands together,

"How about a sky? Blue? No!"

"Of course not! It should be completly random!"

"You're right, you're right. BUT WHAT COLOR!"

"hmm..." Bill squints, "you ever hear of shmerulean?"

Warden turns to Bill,

"No, what is that?"

"It's a color"

"A color I haven't heard of? Show me!"

With a snap of Bill's fingers their colorful painting had a sky, with a very odd color that made The Warden's head feel funny,

"Wow! It's beautiful! We should have more walls of Superjail painted! Specifically whatever this color is!"

The Warden reached for Bill's hand to pull him so they can find more wall to make murals on, however when he went to grab it there seemed to be a blue electric wall. This force field shocked The Warden and sent him flying.

"Yikes," Bill floated over to where The Warden had landed, "totally forgot I had a force field for strangers on, my bad!" he shrugs.

The Warden rubbing the back of his head and being dizzy asked, "Ughh.. why do you have that?"

Again Bill shrugged, "why wouldn't I? You run a prison, you should know how it is! Can't trust anyone's mini limbs attached to limbs!'

"I guess..."

The Warden helps himself up and shakes himself and returns to his old self. He almost makes the same mistake before retracting his hand,

"Lets make more of these paintings!"

"What about that tour?"

"Forget about the tour! This is obviously much more important!"

"I like the way you think funny man!"

The chaotic two went down the cell block painting the walls, the ceiling, the inmates, anything they thought were plain that by their words, 'could use a touch up'.

Amidst the fun Bill felt and heard his bowtie ring. This made The Warden stop and turn. Usually Bill's bowtie rings when someone tries to summon him, Bill looks to see who it is. You can never tell with these prank callers nowadays.

Oh it's the henchmaniacs.

Oh.

Oh right.

Oh no.

"What is that?" The Warden points to the bowtie.

Bill says matter-a-fact-ly, "it's a bowtie, Eggplant"

"Well I know that, what's it doing?"

"Someone's calling me" Bill removes his bowtie.

"You can get calls on your tie? Lucky! I sould have Jared get me on-"

"Shh!"

Bill holds the tie to his ear. Ear? Dumbass, he doesn't have a ear. Anyways, sounds like little murmurs come from the other end. Bill promptly responds,

"Yellow? Hey Kryptos! Yep, listen I'll tell you what happened when I come back. Yep. Bye!"

Bill hangs up and seethes,

"I gotta go... I got a bunch of suckers who thought I died."

The Warden frowned,

"Wha-? You can't stay for even a bit longer? What about the tour?"

Bill shrugs,

"Sorry, can't have the press going to them."

"The press? What press?"

"Space press, listen I had fun Eggplant but I got-"

The Warden suddenly got real close to Bill,

"Waitwaitwait, will you be back? Can you be back? I was, like, suuper bored before you came here and you're leaving already even though you just got here! Pleasssseeee?"

Will he be back? Great question! Bill most definitely wanted to be back. He stared at The Warden blankly as he thought about it,

"Lets make a deal about it."

"Huh?"

Bill held his hand out and a blue flame burst out of it,

"I'll come back if you continue that tour, wanna shake on it?"

The Warden stared the the onfire hand for a few seconds before pointing to it,

"Is that going to burn me?"

"No."

"Am I gonna get shocked again?"

"No."

The Warden hesitantly reached for Bill's hand like it was going to bite him. He reached it and nothing! No burns, no shock. The Warden continued the motion of shaking hands and watched as the fire grew bigger before it began to grow colorful. Bill seemed perplexed by this,

"What the fu-"

Bill bursts into color, rainbows fly out of him. He looks like hes having a seizure. Bill quickly yanks his hand away,

"Youch! Didn't your parents ever teach you how to control that?"

The Warden looked at his hand confused by what just happened,

"Control what?"

Bill threw his hands his hand up in the air,

"Well ya'know! Your magic or powers, or whatever people call it in these parts."

The Warden shook his head,

"When I told my old man about it he caled me a schizophrenic."

Bill raised his eyebrow,

"Huh, interesting. How about I give you some pointers when I come back hm?"

The Warden gasped as his coattails curled,

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah sure, why not?"

"Oh Bill!"

The Warden leaped to hug Bill but he forgot the forcefield and was sent flying to the wall. Bill is not going to do anything about that,

"Yikes. Anyways, remember! Realty is a illusion, the universe is a hologram," a blue portal appears behind him as he slowly floats towards it, "buy gold, BYEEE" and there he goes.

The Warden stared on in astonishment. How inspirational, how interesting, how cool most of all! This Bill guy had to be one of the coolest guys hes ever met! A little weird but who isn't?

The Warden looked around aorund him to stare at the murals they both made and was dissapointed to see- Oh great, Jared.

"Sir how are we going to remove all this graiff-"

"GRAFFITI!?" The Warden stood up, "you call this graffiti!? Why Jared these are murals! Fine pieces of art made by me and my new friend Bill!"

This information shocked Jared,

"Wait so we're keeping these? Don't you think this is too much for a pri-" slow head turn, "You befriended it?"

The Warden smiled widely reminiscing on moments from not long ago,

"I did Jared, I know making friends isn't something you'd know much about so I get the confusion."

Jared shook his head, mentally brushing off the passive aggressive comment,

"No, no sir! You don't think befriending a creature like that would have some consequences? Did you forget what it did to superjail just by arriving sir? I mean-"

The Warden waved him off,

"Psh, Jared. You're too much of a worry-wort. You better not have this attitude when Bill comes back-"

"WHEN IT COMES BACK!?!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now back at the nightmare realm, Bill spawns in a building by his design. A pyramid of course. It has about a billion rooms with even more hallways. It's not like a lot of those rooms are used much anyways. Speaking of used rooms most of the henchmaniacs where in the main room, or to be called the living room. They were on the human skin couches watching the news, except Kryptos who was pacing. He was to first to notice Bill had returned,

"Boss you're back!"

Bill nonchalantly waves, "Hey Kryptos"

Of course Kryptos's exclamation and the spind of Bill's voice caused the rest of the gang to turn around,

"He's back!"

"Wow we thought you died!"

"Where did you go?"

Bill crosses his arms,

"Well now that hurts my feelings!", he says sarcastically of course, "You really think a runt of a demi-god could kill me?"

the gang practically shrinks with their slow 'nooooo's

Teeth speaks up,

"Boss where did you go though, ya'know, after what happened?"

Bill shrugs,

"I landed on some piss-ant asteroid that crumbled on impact and I'll be honest gang I may or may not have let out my anger on a few neighboring planets."

Teeth let's out a, "yeesh"

Bill turns and floats to the entrance to one of many hallways,

"Now if you'll excuse me I need my mandatory seventeen hours of me-time"

He floats away vaguely listening to whatever the henchmaniacs are whispering about him, Bill doesn't really care. He continues down what might as well be a maze of hallways. The walls have brick patterns because what else would they have had. Eventually Bill reaches his room, a black triangle shaped doorway with golden accents. He makes a dramatic entrance into his own room, for future occasions, he thinks to himself. Now with the door closed behind him he is truly alone.

This blankless of solitude brings memories of today's events flowing through Bill's mind. Whatever that place was it was earth, but separated. Wouldn't he be lucky if that demi-god somehow body slammed him past earth's blockade? Bill would be able to start his plans early! It's definitely a pocket dimension, no not a pocket dimension, more like a bubble dimension. Made by that Warden. The Warden... fun guy! Bill just wished his glasses weren't tainted, then he'd be able to see straight through him. See who The Warden really was. Judging how the guy used his powers looks like to Bill that he doesn't exactly know what he is either. Could prove convenient to Bill. He could be a worthy investment. Not only that but he seemed like a fun guy, type of guy Bill would love to party with.

#bill cipher #gravity falls #superjail #superjail!#warden superjail #the warden #superjail warden #billden #superjail jailbot #superjail jared #superjail alice

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michelleleewise · 2 years

Text

Secrets.....

Pairing: Loki x plus-size reader

Warnings: self esteem issues, self deprecating behavior, mild swearing, tiny bit of angst

Summary: Thursday rolls around and you start to get excited about your coffee date, but life always seems to get in the way...

Part 6-

====================================

You woke up, smiling to yourself. "Today's the day." You sighed to yourself. You wanted nothing more for work to be over ao you could go on your coffee date with Loki. Was it a date? Or was he just wanting to hang out? You decided you would take things one step at a time.

"Hey Mel, I'm gonna be a bit late tonight." You told her getting your coffee. "Ooo hot date" she asked winking at you. "No...yes....maybe?" You looked at her. "You don't know?" She laughed. "Well I think it is, but I don't know for sure." You shrugged. "Well, whoever he is, he's a lucky guy." She smiled as you rolled your eyes. "Whatever you say." You said, running before she could smack you. "Tell Emma I love her." You yelled as you ran out the door.

Work went as usual. Time seemed to crawl as you looked at the clock seeing ait was still early. You groaned and continued your work when your phone went off.

Your heart sank as you read the texts. Maybe he just didn't want to go, or changed his mind. Someone like him liking you was definitely too good to be true. You sighed putting your phone away, continuing on with your day.

"Hey y/n, Sandy called and said she's sick, she can't close tonight." You heard Sarah. "Oh, ok I'll stay." You sighed wiping your hands on your towel. "But you've been here since four in the morning." She said coming closer. "It's fine, I don't have any other plans so." You shrugged. You text Mel to let her know, and decided to text Loki too, in case he was going to show up.

"Well I sounded like an idiot.." you sighed putting your phone away, making your way to the front to let everyone go home. You paced around the store, only having a few customers, thrusdays weren't very busy usually, so you decided to close a little early. You connected your music to the speakers and started cleaning up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki's pov-

I sighed putting my phone away. "When will we be done? Some of us have plans." I asked Thor. "Shouldn't be too much longer brother, why the rush?" He asked. "That's none of your concern, I just need to get back to the tower" I said sitting down. A few hours past when my phone went off. Seeing it was y/n made me smile. I opened the text seeing she had to work late tonight, maybe I could surprise her.

I hurried off the jet as we landed, quickly making it to my room. I showered and dressed, throwing on my jacket and scarf I made my way to the living area. "Where are you off to brother?" I heard Thor ask. "That is my concern, not yours" I told him buttoning my jacket. I looked at my phone seeing it was nearing eight "I must go, I'll speak to you later." I told him making my way to the elevator.

As the car pulled up, I jumped out, hoping I wasn't too late to catch her. I walked past the windows of her shop and couldn't help smile. There she was, her hair down, whipping back and forth, singing into a....spatula? I crossed my arms over my chest smiling as I watched her dance around the counter, belting out the words to the song. She looked so free, so beautiful. I grabbed my phone to text her, I knew exactly what I was going to do to surprise her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You turned up the volume on your phone as the next song came on, letting your hair down, this song had to be danced to...

Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at ya. It's only this moment, don't care what comes after your fever dream, can't you see it getting closer Just surrender 'cause you feel the feeling taking over

It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open. It's a preacher in the pulpit and your blind devotion There's something breaking at the brick of every wall, it's holding

All that you know. So tell me, do you wanna go?

You danced around, flinging your hair around, grabbing a spatula off the counter you couldn't help yourself as the song took off.

Where it's covered in all the colored lights. Where the runaways are running the night Impossible comes true, it's taking over you

Oh, this is the greatest show. We light it up, we won't come down. And the sun can't stop us now. Watching it come true, it's taking over you. Oh, this is the greatest show.

You heard your phone ding, making you stop the music. You opened the text seeing it was from Loki, and you couldn't help the smile that spread across the face.

You couldn't help blush at the nickname. What idea was he talking about? You were about to text back when you saw a green flash of light by the window and you threw your spatula at it before ducking behind the counter, holding your chest.

"You wound me darling, you would impale me with a spatula?" You heard over the counter. "L..loki?" You asked peeking over the counter. "The one and only." He smiled stepping forward. "You scared the shit out of me." You sighed standing up. "My apologies, I only wanted to surprise you." He smiled at you again. "Well......it worked. What are you doing anyway?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him. You watched him unbutton his peacoat, pulling off his scarf and throwing them over a chair. "I've come to help, I did say I would make it up to you." He smiled

You watched him roll up the sleeves of his black button up shirt, revealing his forearms, watching his muscles flex as he rolled up the other, feeling your face heat up. "Darling, are you alright?" He asked snapping you out of your trance. "Oh um..yes I'm fine, i..." you sighed putting your head down, why were you like this? "I just have a few dishes left and I think that's it." You said heading to the kitchen with Loki in tow.

You washed and be rinsed. Getting the last of the pans put away you were officially done. "Well, that's it." You sighed wiping your forehead with your towel as Loki stepped up to you, gently putting your hair behind your ear as he stared into your eyes. "Thanks for the help." You whispered, feeling your heart speed up at his closeness. "It was my pleasure y/n." He smiled, as you felt his finger lightly brush your neck before it dropped to his side.

You walked outside, locking the door behind you as Loki slipped his jacket and scarf back on. "What are you doing now darling?" He asked. "Oh, probably going home and passing out, it was a long day." You sighed rubbing your eyes. "Do you have a way home." He asked looking around. "Yes, my car is in the back." You sighed wrapping your arms around yourself. "Did you not bring a jacket?" He asked "no, I wasn't supposed to be here this late." You said rubbing your arms. In a flash if green you felt something lay across your shoulders. You looked down seeing a green fuzzy blanket. You smiled pulling it around yourself as Loki walked you to your car. "Thank you." You smiled as he nodded.

"So when are you free from work y/n?" He asked as you made it to your car. "I'm off on Sundays, the shop is closed." You said. "Well, if it is alright with you, may I take you to coffee on sunday?" He asked taking a step closer. "S....sure, if you still want to." You said looking up at him. "I wouldn't miss it." He smiled. You went to take the blanket off to give to him "no, you keep it, a gift." He smiled grabbing your hand. "Well thank you Loki, I do love fuzzy blankets." You tugged back over you. "Would it be alright to keep texting you? I quite enjoy our conversations." He smiled rubbing your hand. "Yes, that would be ok." You looked down fidgeting with the blanket.

"Do you need a ride? I can drop you off?" You asked. "No, I think I would enjoy the walk." He smiled. "Will you let me know when you get back to the tower? J...just to make sure you made it ok?" You asked looking at him. He smiled that beautiful smile again "yes, I will." He nodded "and until Sunday." He said bringing your hand up kissing it. "Until sunday." You smiled. He opened the car door for you, waving as you drove off. You made it home, climbing into bed, wrapping the blanket he gave you around yourself, it smelled like his cologne and you couldn't help smile. Your phone went off, Loki letting you know he made it. You text him goodnight and rolled over. If this was too good to be true, you were going to enjoy it while it lasts.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

*what y/n was listening to*

@vbecker10 @lokisprettygirl22 @mcufan72 @midnights-ramblings @sonatabee @catalina712 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @kilikina34512 @delightfulheartdream @froggiecky @sinsandguilt @sweetberry47 @buttercupbestie @wtfislifeugh @asgardianprincess1050 @commanding-officer @lovingchoices14 @crystaldragonborne @juulle987 @xorpsbane @elenaysusneuras @yoongissidebitchh @daggers-and-mischief @lightupmyjass @plut0min @lulubelle814 @lucylaufeyson3 @howdidurhammergrowchris @d1a2n389 @lokiprompts @sititran @kats72 @awesomephilosophus

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theknightmarket · 1 year

Text

"You're on."

In which Illinois and his partner explore a cave and relationship issues.

TW: sexual innuendos, cursing

Pages: 19 - Words: 8,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Tap, tap, tap. Water dripped from the ceiling in a slow, rhythmic state that could have sent you to sleep if you weren’t careful. Like a lullaby, it coaxed you to lie down and forget all about what you had come here to find. Of course, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, which mimicked the small streams created by your feet, kept you awake and aware of every little thing that happened in the tunnel. It was a cramped place, where you could touch both walls if you stood in the middle with your arms stretched out. Some places, you would have to crouch, but it widened the further in you got.

“Scary, huh. Heard a bunch of tunnels have caved in around here.”

You rolled your eyes. Your partner in crime behind you had a habit of trying to frighten you, ever since the first adventure you went on. He always mentioned how many people had gotten hurt in the places you went, or he’d pretend to slip on rocks just to get you to grab his wrist. It was to stabilize him, but he wouldn’t let you go without calling you out on how worried you were for him. And, yeah, he might’ve been right. The guy was an idiot sometimes – and you’d been with him for nearly three years at this point, so you reserved the right to say that – and you wouldn’t put it past him to crack his head open on a ledge.

Still, you called back, the sound echoing through the caverns, “We can always head back, if you’re that terrified, Illinois.”

That gravelly laugh followed suit and bounced off the walls, ending with him replying, “Never said that, babe.”

And there was another habit of his, calling you all the pet names under the sun. Sweetheart, darling, but babe was his favorite. He used them more than he used your real name, leading you to have to constantly remind him in case he had actually forgotten. Illinois always laughed it off, but you were sure he had the first handful of times he used the nicknames. After that, they just stuck, no matter how many times you asked for him to change.

You didn’t mention it, this time, though – instead, you concerned yourself more with the long stretch of path ahead of you. This wouldn’t be a problem if the walls weren’t completely uniform, and a mismatch of holes were dented in them. Arrows. That wasn’t too bad, given how sought after this treasure you were hunting for was. No way in hell would you risk your life for something worthless, or, as Illinois claimed, ‘the thrill of the hunt’. You liked being rewarded for your hard work, especially if it included dodging deadly traps that you’d normally see in action movies like the Mummy. You shook of the thought of Brendan Frasier and inspected the pattern of holes while you waited for Illinois to catch up.

When you felt a body at your side, you gestured to them and took a step forward. You were stopped by Illi catching your arm. Your confused look was matched by a sly smirk.

“Lemme show you how it’s done.”

You were tempted to remind him how long you’ve been doing this for but thought better of it when he took a few steps back. Every time you investigated a new place, you were filled with fear for that man’s life. It was as if he lived just to show-off, and, to who, you had no clue, because the only impact on you was concern for his physical and mental wellbeing.

Still, that didn’t stop him from taking the run-up and leaping into the fray.

Light-speed arrows shot from both directions, barely skimming his satchel and pinning loose fabric of his to the wall. Sharp tears broke the distant drip of water and sent goosebumps down your arms. Illinois flipped and dove, dodged everything that came at him like a rough acrobat, and yet he came out without a single scratch on him. At the other side of the battlefield, stone bricks now marred with chips and fallen arrows, he stood with that dazzling smile and glimmer of mischief in his eyes. A tip of his hat and the flick of a switch on his part, and you were safe to cross.

“Well done,” you conceded when you walked past him.

The smile stretched slightly further, the glint burned a bit brighter, and a small laugh escaped him. Illinois would never admit it, but he liked hearing those compliments from you, despite the faux reluctance behind your words – not that he didn’t get them from anyone else, you were just… different, like they made more sense coming from you.

“I’m a natural,” he half-joked while coming into step beside you.

Further into the tunnel, you were avoiding tapering vines at your boots, ones that threatened to trip you up if you weren’t paying attention. Puddles formed in ditches at the sides, but they only added to the ambience of the underground. It was pretty, you always thought it was, when life thrived without light. The faint trickle of rivers deeper in tempted you like a horse to a carrot, because you knew it was always worth it to get that one more scratch or drop that one level more. And yet, when the places you explored were the most dismally boring and mind-numbing that you could imagine, you still enjoyed being there, and you knew the reason.

Illinois came to a halt before a raised platform, something obviously man-made. Two plates were set upon the brick, probably meant to be weighted down to open up another part of the tunnel. He started by throwing his satchel on one, haphazardly only because you weren’t paying enough attention to berate him, which made the section under the other plate raise slightly. Looking up showed a hole in the ceiling that led to more tunnel, presumably where you needed to go. Illi made a noise of realization and jumped on with his bag, barely fitting and nearly skidding of the edge as it started moving.

Yep.

You were in love with that idiot, and you weren’t afraid to admit it. To yourself, of course, you would get trapped in a cave-in before tellling Illinois to his face. God only knows what that would do to his ego, so you kept your mouth shut, and have been doing well for the last two years. You were pretty sure it started in a gambling ring, and then it actually occurred to you when the both of you were running from a stampede of elephants. It was anyone’s bet as to why you liked the fool – maybe it was his rugged good looks, or how he always knew how to get himself in and out of danger, or maybe it was just your luck to fall in love with someone who was never going to reciprocate your feelings. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago, but it didn’t stop them from tainting your actions. It was second nature to save him a seat at the bar and booking a room in a hotel for one was unknown to you. Despite that, you couldn’t act on the feelings, no matter how hard it was to ignore them. You assured yourself that there will always be another big thing to chase and keep your mind off it; it was the only comfort you had in the darkest and loneliest of nights when you could hardly resist dialing his number and spilling your guts. Fatigue eventually knocked you out, but, like the next morning’s hangover, the memory stayed with you.

“Figured it out?” you asked, coming to stand next to Illinois. He had this concentrated expression on his face, shadowed by the brim of his hat, which noticeably sported many a hole from the arrows.

He hummed in response, and you looked away. No debris, no dislodged rock, no nothing. It was almost like they didn’t want you to steal the treasure they worked so hard in guarding. You bit your cheek; you didn’t want to go all the way back to the entrance just to grab a stack of bricks, but you weren’t seeing another way round—

Swift hands gripped your sides, sending you into an immediate state of panic. You began to wriggle, but the hands just squeezed tighter before lifting you over the platform. Warmth burst from the contact, spreading, and leaching onto your face, but they didn’t relent until you were placed onto the same plate as Illinois’ bag. Speaking of, you managed a glance over your shoulder when you finally stopped moving, just to see that very man staring back at you. You stopped moving, all focus now on glaring straight into his eyes. You weren’t mad, as much as you wanted to be, but you hoped it would be excuse enough for the blood red blush that set your face alight.

Illinois grinned, sure-fire, and confident. “I hope you don’t mind, darlin’, I had to borrow you for a second.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Accompanied by a wink, you only registered your feet leaving the ground when you were safely chucked onto a rocky ledge. Instinct kicked in and you rolled into a crouch, grabbing Illinois’ hand before the platform could fall back down. The grip was tight and firm, but you lugged him onto the stable ground if only to stop your heart rate from speeding up anymore.

You let a quick breath leave you, patted off your knees and thighs, and got up from the floor.

“Thanks, love,” he muttered before following suit.

You nodded and proceeded onwards, further into the cave system than you thought worth it. For another stretch, there were no visible traps, so you were free to think for a second, and think you did. Illinois had only come to you with this adventure a few days ago, giving you less time for preparation that you would have hoped for, but you got plenty done in the ride over. Illinois drove, you booked a room in the nearest hotel for some kind of after-party, and the two of you discussed the history of the place. Apparently, a lot of people had explored here before, though none were successful. A lot of them got stuck on that last puzzle, since they were loners or were cocky enough to think they didn’t need a partner – but some of them did get past it, if only to get stuck at the large drops. Now, you weren’t scared of heights, you had taken some rock-climbing classes and the three years of experience meant you could handle scaling down, but the rumors did give you pause.

Story went that ‘things’ ducked out of the cracks in the rocks and pushed people to their deaths, like eels but without the water. Forums called this bullshit, as nobody had reported anything of the sort in any other cave system before, but most of the adventurers tackling this place were adept climbers. You didn’t know what else would get them to lose their balance, and you were about to find out, as you came to the first of those many, deep falls.

“Dark,” Illinois pointed out when he leaned over.

You huffed, “You’re so smart, Illi.”

Hands fiddling with your equipment, your partner picked up a small rock and dropped it down the hole. Silence, silence, silence – 15 seconds later, the clatter echoed up from below, to which he made a noise of discontentment.

After laying out the ropes and shackles, you glanced up at him. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

He shook his head, too fast for your liking, but played it off with a deep chuckle. “Me? You know me better than that, babe.”

“I wouldn’t blame you; you’ve heard the stories.”

“Oh, yeah, the boxing glove wall from knockout shows.” He took another glance down. “How ‘bout we make a bet?”

You’d been getting suited up while Illinois was talking, and, already done and with the hook secured in a crack, you were eager to get it over with, so you brought him closer by his shirt’s lapels and wrapped a rope around him. You secured it with another sharp tug, your chests now only centimeters away from meeting. “What kind of bet?”

His breath stilled for a moment, and you felt the words move over you when he spoke, “Whoever makes it to the bottom first gets a favor.”

This piqued your interest. You made bets all the time, both dangerous and not, and this bordered on suicidal. A race in a location known to be deadly with no sight of the bottom?

You stuck out a hand. “You’re on.”

And that was that. You let Illinois go, missed his ever-so-slightly disappointed pout, and started your way down the wall. Kicking at ledges to make sure they were stable, you planted your feet every few inches down in a methodical fashion. Meanwhile, Illinois realized how far behind he was and jumped down to your height, just nearly skidding against the rock to find balance. Again, you rolled your eyes, sure that he would still argue he had won if he dropped the entire way down and broke his legs, but you hoped he would be smart enough.

You heard a quiet, “Shit,” next to you and the clatter of pebbles as your partner lost his footing. He regained it seconds later, smiling in your direction as if it had never happened, but you only squinted at him in suspicion. You were now sure he would kill himself before getting to the end.

You tried to pass the moments in silent focus, but that was made difficult with Illinois by your side. He stayed a few steps deeper than you at all times while still offering small comments about the condition of the wall. Gradually, more vines caressed the rocks, covering up possible footholds and making the accessible ones slippery and dangerous. You grunted when you stuck your hand in a slimy nest of leaves and sludge, the texture coating your fingers and dripping off the side. You debated flinging it at Illi, but you didn’t want to be the direct cause of his death. Plus, it was gross enough in the dark, so you settled for dragging your hand across your leg and hoping it wouldn’t stain.

Halfway down, Illinois called out, “You know, I’m not seeing punchy eels yet.”

“Keep paying attention.”

He was the one to roll his eyes now, mocking you with one hand and haphazardly falling down with the other. Sometimes it got on your nerves how easy-going he was in these situations, but you focused on yourself and getting that little bit further. It didn’t help that Illinois didn’t like being brushed off.

“Maybe they lied, they’re just awful at climbing,” he pointed out, sliding down further.

“Be quiet.”

“But it’d make sense though.” Fiddling with the rope, he pulled it straight before jumping back even deeper than he had before. You were picking up the pace, still going carefully, but you didn’t want to lose the bet. “I mean, who goes on forums just to talk about their exploits?”

Ignoring the fact that you went on those forums, you wrapped a hand around his rope and brought him swinging below you. “Do you ever shut up?” you hissed before pushing him back.

He stayed there for a moment, thoughts running through his head that you weren’t aware of, until he laughed, “What, like you?”

“Yeah, like me.”

“I’m further than you, maybe you should follow my lead.”

Illinois was acting like a child, as he was want to do in those games, and you were split between entertaining him with a petty argument and keeping quiet. You knew it was smarter to leave him to it, let him monologue to his heart’s content, but there was a small part of you that wanted to spit back – and an even smaller part of that liked the argument. It was a part that liked the constant banter, where it was natural and came to you like a bird learning to fly. It was fun, admittedly, so you allowed yourself this little treat.

You replied, “If I followed your lead, we’d both be dead by now.”

“Oh, and who got us through those first two traps?” He clambered over to your side, leaning in just to point at himself dramatically. “Me.”

“You needed two people for the plates.”

“Stuck, but not dead.”

Now, you stayed silent, having come to a particularly slippery part of the wall. There were little-to-no holds scattered about, and the ones that were present were tiny and crumbling. Your eyebrows ruffled and you felt around for a better place to stick your hand. You found none. So, you’d have to jump it, or keep going across the wall to find some better place. With the bet in mind, although you knew it was dumb to put it before your own safety, you took a deep breath in and pushed away.

It was only a single second that you fell for, but that didn’t stop you hearing a sharp gasp from Illinois. Really? Had you managed to get the Illinois to fear for you. Maybe you should do that more often, and you tested the water by dropping for one more second. A smile graced your mouth when a vague ‘don’t’ met your ears, accompanied by the scrambling of stone and metal as your partner fell down next to you.

Risking a glance towards him, you noticed that the look of mischief was accompanied by a fresh hint of concern. It was wrong, but you took pride in that, like the first breath on a crisp, spring morning.

Illinois hid his expression beneath the rim of his hat. In his mind, he was hoping that you didn’t notice, but he wasn’t as dumb as you were led to believe; he knew you knew, and he knew that was bad. Not because he didn’t want you to be able to know – was he thinking ‘know’ too much? - but because he didn’t want his macho-confident façade to crack. He had worked to get this reputation up, especially with you, and he had been maintaining it quite well ever since he had met you. Now, here he was, getting all worried for someone he knew well enough would be fine no matter what was thrown your way. He couldn’t help it; it was like a natural instinct to be concerned for you. It didn’t stop him from putting you in those situations, reason amongst them because he loved seeing you rugged and worried for him, too. Instead, he focused more on keeping you out of immediate danger, and this was definitely immediate danger. That, and it would be boring without you! Call him a child, but having good company was the make or break of anything good you can do in your life.

And one way to make good company was to tease them relentlessly.

“Go on,” Illinois prompted, “when have you ever gotten us out of trouble with your ‘keep calm and listen to me’ policy?”

“The Church of Dawsit,” you were quick to answer. He had to admit, bringing an antidote for the most common form of poison was smart, and he would only have one arm if not for you.

Still, he replied, “Okay, that was one time, I’ve saved us plenty more.”

“Retneh’s Lagoon, Match-Fire, the Damned Catacombs, that one week in Washington DC—” A scuffle of rocks interrupted your boasting, bringing Illinois down with them. His boots first, then his pants, then his loosely done up shirt disappeared into the darkness, swallowed up and spat out into swaths of fear. His hat was the only thing visible as you shot out a hand to catch him. Impulse, the very thing that saved Illi one more day in the sun when he clamped his own tanned fingers around yours. Your breath caught in your throat, you felt the slime from earlier part the way between your skins, so you acted without a thought. It might’ve spelled doom had you not heaved him to your chest, wrapped an arm around his waist and pushed him against the wall. In any other circumstance, you would have blushed, but you were too preoccupied with stabilizing Illinois before he could slip any further. A knee between his legs and a tug on his rope was the most you could do while you waited for his mind to catch up.

“—and now,” you finished.

Your breaths combined in the air in front of, you only now noticing the distance between you had steadily thinned. It would be so easy just to lean those few centimeters closer, join your lips and let your heartbeat stay floating at a precarious 110 beats per minute. The situation between you two felt right, but the circumstances – suspended above a thirty-foot drop and barely held up by a single rope – did not. However, you couldn’t back up just yet, so you stayed there, waiting in a limbo painful enough to have you chewing on your cheek, while Illinois got his bearings. Not that this was helping him focus on his safety right now, in fact, it might have been counter-productive with the fog that clouded his mind. But it didn’t take much brains to act on instinct.

“Aww, look who cares about me.”

And he ruined it. You let him swing back to his original space, turned your face away and hid the embarrassment rearing its dirty head.

“Just admit it, babe, it’ll be easier.”

“Nope, never gonna happen.”

“So, you do care, you’re just not gonna say so.”

“Oh my God.”

It was weird to think that all happened over the course of twenty minutes but, when you got to the very bottom, all you remembered was a blur. Time spent with Illinois had a penchant for doing that, but, notably, the very man was standing with his arms crossed and that cocky smirk on his lips when you touched ground after him. You tried to ignore him, pushed him aside as you moved on, but he hummed a tune just inches behind you, almost standing on your heels. If you slowed down a fraction, he would bump into you, and you’d be in some new mess of your own creation. Because that was what the fall was – it was your fault that you had gotten so intimate. Sure, you could have let him drop, but what kind of person would you be? A monster, an idiot, nothing good. So, you really had no choice at all, but pulling him so close? Rooky mistake, given your troublesome feelings for him.

Drawing a hand to your eyes, you attempted to scrub away the memory of him pressed against the wall. This was horrible, and you couldn’t even escape to your own room because, like always, you had booked one to share! Your mind battled over the correct course of action, one side arguing that you should just cut ties right now, you should hoist yourself back up those ropes and figure out your own way home. The other side though, surprisingly logical for the one that blushed to high heaven, whispered in your ear like a cartoon devil. Why limit the time you had to spend with Illinois optionally? He was a good-looking guy, a charmer and anybody would be lucky to have him, so he’d be snatched up sooner or later. It would be dumb to dump potential happy moments just to be less sad later.

You agreed, thankfully, with the latter side of you, and you sped up towards the next obstacle.

Behind you, though, Illinois stopped still. He had never been more grateful for his hat to block his face, because the brightness of his cheeks would put the red sea to shame. He had just gone over this! Keep the cocky façade up and he’d be fine, but he just had to go and slip on whatever the hell that was and get into… that scenario. Oh, and he’d be thinking about that for months to come, probably years. The man wanted nothing more than to keel over and calm down, maybe drown himself in the rivers still at his side. He knew he had to follow you, and, when he focused his vision, he saw you turn a corner in the distance, causing him to pick up the pace with an awkward chuckle. He’d follow you but don’t even think of trying to get him to face you.

Just steps ahead of him, you came to a stop. A crossroads halted your steady march and left you wondering which way to go. Illinois appeared at your side in silence, crossing his arms and inspecting, too, each direction. The left was raised, like rocky, natural steps that headed towards a glimmering light in the distance, while going right meant following the stream puddling at your feet. More greenery thrived over there, but it was cramped compared to the other one. To you, the choice was obvious, and Illi seemed to come to a decision, as well.

“Left.”

“Right.”

Your eyes met for a brief second, questioning glances melting into surprise at your disagreement while you tried to discern whether he was just messing with you. After a few seconds of staring, you realized that he wasn’t.

While Illinois was panicking, wondering bleakly if you noticed his flustered state, you opened your mouth, closed it again, and then stepped backwards.

“You want to go towards the light?”

His irises dashed around the constraints of white as he thought. In truth, he didn’t want to go left, it was obviously just another way out, but he also didn’t want to risk you seeing him clearly. The shadowing ledges and irregular walls gave him the perfect cover but going right meant you getting closer and closer and closer – to the point that you would be backs against the walls, facing each other and sharing the same breath. Illinois wasn’t sure his heart could handle it.

“Yeah,” he mumbled before pretending to be confident, “everyone knows bright lights lead to good things.”

“That is objectively not true—"

“But if you want to go right, then that’s fine. We’ll just see who chose the better option later.”

You stared blankly at him, crossed between thinking he was being an idiot and wondering if there was something more to it. Most adventures you went on with Illinois had him begging to go further in, taking insane risks just for the idea of getting more treasure, and yet there he was. He stood in front of you, hip out and arms crossed, that half-assed smirk on his lips so he looked surefire of his decision.

You couldn’t imagine him really wanting to go left – and you were correct, unbeknownst to you – which meant it was a different reason. Racking your brain for a solution, you didn’t notice, not that you would be able to in the darkness, the sweat collected on Illinois’ forehead, nor the reddening of his ears, twitch of his smile. He hoped silently that you just went right on your own, give him some space to deal with the fluttering of his heart when you looked at him like… like that. Eye half-lidded and overcast, suspicion clear in the glints that normally held determination and a small bit of fatigue.

But they disappeared, shattered into a million pieces, when you landed on a reason why he wanted to separate.

It was because you had fucked up, and you had fucked up big time. Swinging him against the wall, what the hell was that about? You had messed everything up with a single movement, and now, Illinois wanted nothing to do with you. He was going to abandon you in the cave system, leave and never come back. You’d end up finding some useless treasure and return to the hotel, return to an empty and cold room with nothing but the clothes on your back and the stupid jewel – or whatever it was, because you, being the love-addled idiot that you were, had blindly followed your partner to one of the most dangerous locations to have ever been discovered! You weren’t even sure if the thing at the end of the tunnel was worth anything. Illinois had always been an adrenaline junkie, was that all this was for? Was that what you had wrecked your relationship over?

You twisted on your heels and started down the right path. Being in the same air as Illi was a death-sentence for you, so you had to get out of there as soon as possible, even if that meant the nail in the coffin for a chance to fix anything. It wasn’t like it would matter, anyway, and you’d only do more damage the longer you stayed. God, you were such an idiot, you could have done anything but that. Not stuck your hand in that weird sludge nest, not pulled him closer, not gotten into an argument, not flirted with him! Even though you had said that you had accepted your position, everything little thing you did sabotaged the very idea. You would never be able to move on like this, but you weren’t sure you wanted to. Too bad you had no choice, now. It was your fault. There was no one to blame but yourself.

Illinois watched you go. Sure, he wanted to go different ways, but the way that you left was… it didn’t seem right, it settled in his stomach like forgotten food in a fishbowl, mushy and powdery and just wrong. It felt terrible to disagree with you, but it felt like someone was pressing on his heart when your footsteps faded away. His hand moved unconnected from his brain towards the right.

Pulling his hat over his forehead, after having removed the sweat building, he followed through with going left. It wasn’t as if he could chase after you, he’d look desperate, and, what’s worse, wrong. He obviously was, but that wasn’t the point. No, he had to keep going, or he’d face the consequences of, well, your actions.

On the other side of the wall, so close that, at times, you could hear Illinois’ footsteps above you, you marched mechanically. You were deep in thought, and your body was put on autopilot to allow your mind to run free. You had a lot to consider with this new development in your relationship; what had to change, what you needed to do, even what you would say to Illi the next time you saw him. If you ever did again.

The problem was that you loved Illinois, and there was no way around it, but the things that made you love him were what kept you from admitting your feelings. He was daring in every situation, always willing to go the extra mile for what he wanted – that also meant he didn’t know when to stop because things were getting too dangerous. He was able to improvise in social areas without hesitation, which majorly reflected in the bars, when he’d shoot his shot at anything that looked his way. You trusted him with your life, but… there was no but to that one, it was the plain truth. You trusted him with your life, and you trusted him to not abuse the power.

The only question was if he trusted you back? That conversation on the wall, him refusing to admit that you had saved him. Was the resistance just because he didn’t think you could do it again and the only times you had flukes? Hell, it was painful to think back on him saying he could do all of this alone.

All that was to say, you couldn’t do anything now. Maybe this was for the best. You could go home, spend more than a week in one place, choose your own adventures for once.

Disregarding the almost-lethal pain that stabbed at your gut for your decision, you trailed along the stream into darkness.

Finding the treasure was no easy task, only bolstered by the tense silence between the two of you. As it turned out, the paths led back to the same place, a little circular patch of open air and rock that extended in just one direction. A bit tight of a fit for a tunnel, but you had already made up your mind. You’d get the treasure, leave, and never come back. Illinois didn’t try to make conversation either, save for the light, shaky and ever-so-awkward smirk he tried to send your way. You ignored it, ignored him, and kept going forward.

Illinois, albeit confused and worried for what could have happened to you in that tunnel, followed suit.

At the very end of the cave system, maybe eight kilometers from where you had started, you saw a light. It wasn’t as striking as the one Illinois had been headed for – the tunnel leading to it having also split into two directions – but it was definitely bright enough for a cocky told-you-so grin to appear on your par- Illinois’ face. You would have laughed but you were too tired to think about the irony.

That made it all the weirder when you stepped into a grotto. Your boots sunk into layers of tacky moss, squelched as water trickled onto the leather and drenched your laces. Sticks and weeds stuck up from underneath, but a vague path travelled from the entrance to a platform some steps above you. It appeared as though it belonged to some ancient civilization, or a temple ran by cultists. It was to be expected, really, with the trend you’d been seeing in your adventures recently. The greenery was a nice change of pace, you thought.

And, while Illinois could appreciate the beauty of plants surviving where they shouldn’t be able to, he was more focused on, well, you. You weren’t frantically listing all the special features you noticed, pointing out every detail of a type of tree or bush. You weren’t excited about any of this, and it had him biting his lip in concern. Was something wrong? Did he do something wrong? Had pushing you in a different direction hurt you that much that you lost all interested in this place. He remembered your smile reaching ear to ear when you were researching the caves back in the jeep, so something had clearly changed. At one point or another, a lot of people thought Illinois was dumb, but social queues were his forte. Normally, considering that he had no idea what was going on with you.

He could only trail distantly behind you. With the treasure so close, the adventure coming to a close and allowing a new one to take its place, he should have been happier. But, without you, the spark was gone, just some dirt thrown about by wind and the tap of shoes against brick.

The treasure was stereotypical, you believed as you approached. A golden box, shimmering in flickering torch-light, that was bound to hold priceless lumps of jewels. You could sell those easily, pawn them off or hold them above people’s heads with bravado. Really, you didn’t care what become of them, as long as it meant this whole ordeal was over. Finally.

God, you wanted to be happy. You wanted to feel free and unburdened, but the weight on your shoulders that had been building up after the disagreements you two had was getting unbearable. Now, you were just bored.

Not even the surprise of an amethyst key piqued your interest.

Illinois glanced over your shoulder, moved to stand next to you, and gripped the key in his hand. At least you didn’t flinch. He could have laughed; not even a few hours ago, that would have been an insane thing to be glad about. You had both been fine back then, but things could change so quickly.

“You wanna find out what this goes to?” he asked, trying to keep up the bravado that used to come so naturally to him. It was harder than rolling a boulder up a wall.

You didn’t answer him, not even with a look. A few seconds passed with only the inconstant drip of water as background, and then you were passing back down the steps right by him. Illinois felt like he should say something, he wanted to ask what was wrong and apologize if it was his fault – but you were gone through the tunnel before he could think to open his mouth. He gripped the strap of his satchel to find comfort, but there was little left in sunburnt leather. Questions ran rampant through his mind, pessimism overtaking his normal positive ideas. He may have not expressed it all the time, but Illinois liked to look on the bright side of things. This, though, had no bright side.

He ran after you, skipping two steps at a time until he bounded out of the structured area and into the system. Your boots were distant, but they were aided by the echo, so he fastened his pace. Hopping over vines, kicking loose rocks, ducking under lowered ceilings – it was difficult to keep a steady speed, and he managed it only after you started to slow down. He had half the mind to talk a leisurely stroll and just let you calm down, but he didn’t want to lose you, and he knew that if you got out before him—

Steps trickling to a halt – yours fading into the rocks.

Illinois stopped dead in his tracks.

He didn’t want to lose you.

He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but he had a pretty good guess. He’d had the lecture from his mother back when he was at home, he’d had the talks with his father, he’d had the high school sweetheart thing, he’d had it all.

He’d never had this before.

And – this was something he’d only ever admit to himself in the crevices of his mind – he was scared.

The reputation of Illinois Jones was not a hard thing to find out about; half of any town’s population could have been seduced by him, and the other half pissed that he’d left so suddenly. The adventuring community told stories about his exploits to newbies, and when they spoke, more people would interject with encounters they’d heard, too. It was like he was a cryptid in every place he went, some mythical siren-like creature that people lusted and loathed.

And he was scared that you wouldn’t want that. Sure, you’d been partners for three years, which felt like thirty now, but romance? That was different. He wasn’t used to it; it didn’t come as naturally as it did pure flirting. Flings after work in bars were easier than candle-lit dinners on a balcony. You deserved the best, and he just wasn’t it.

Illinois was dragging his feet out of that cave system when the sun was setting, fifteen minutes after you had emerged with a groan. Fatigue coated your bones, drilled holes, and connected them with metal. You were stiff and annoyed and you wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. At least you were able to rest alone in the jeep for a couple minutes.

The jostling of the vehicle had you lazily opening your eyes, only closing again when you saw it was Illinois climbing into the driver’s seat. You removed your feet from the dash and stared out the window. Nothing was said, not a word exchanged, as you retreated from the caves and towards the hotel you had booked. You remembered making sure there was a bar there, having assumed you’d get back with celebration on your minds, so you knew where Illinois would go first of all. Some more time to think then, pack and get out of there without him knowing.

Because that was the question, wasn’t it? Would you be able to stomach abandoning Illinois, when he was probably too drunk to be able to get back to the room alone?

You bristled; he’d find a way, and that way was most likely going to be with a handsome and/or beautiful patron.

With that assurance in your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder why it still stung so much.

The bar stool was rickety, threatening to break under just half of his weight, as Illinois sidled into it. Constant chatter and laughter barely broke through whatever haze had been placed over him ever since you shuffled off to your shared room. You were obviously upset, and he was just centimeters away from grabbing your hand, but your boots left stains on the carpet that he stared at from the top of the stairwell. A sour taste was deserted in his mouth as he yelled out a ‘see ya’ that was never answered, so he was quick to swagger into the hotel’s bar, hoping to find relief.

He didn’t. Not with a shot of whiskey, not with a pint of beer, not with flirts and winks towards the residents of the hotel. These things normally cheered him up, but, when he thought back on it, there was something different now. You weren’t there, downing gin or whatever new cocktail was on the menu for the night, ignoring the drunkards who tried to get your number. Illinois would laugh, convince the bartender to give them some more drinks for free, and then cheer to your good health. Together. You were always together for the afterparty, and now that you weren’t, it was all wrong. You would stay quiet during these nights, and Illinois would do the talking, and yet he missed your subtle presence.

He could talk for hours about what you brought – the breathy laughs into your drink when he made a corny joke, the rolls of your eyes when he flirted badly, how you let him swing his arm around your shoulder when he got too into it – but there was no one to talk to. He was sure potential partners wouldn’t want to hear about the person he was sharing a bed with.

Oh, no, he had to make it up to you.

He couldn’t go a night sleeping in the same bed with bad blood between you.

He could deal a quiet car and being alone at the bar – really, he couldn’t, he was pretty sure he’d go insane if he didn’t leave soon – but eight hours breathing the same air as you? He’d rather throw himself through a window.

Illinois, scooping up two drinks of gin and coke that he did not pay for, rushed to stairs. People threw confused glances at him, but he could care less what they thought. For the first time in years, he was focused on one thing.

You.

So, he flew up the hotel’s levels until he got to yours, sprinted down the hallway and used all of his skills of balance and constitution to not spill a single drop. He was quite proud of himself when he arrived at your door, but he didn’t let the thought cloud his mind.

Pushing down on the handle with his elbow, he thanked the Gods above that it was unlocked, and burst in. Momentarily, panic flooded through him like one of Hercules’ labors. You weren’t in the room, and your bag hadn’t been unpacked. Half an hour after you’d arrived, and you still hadn’t gotten everything out? His heart quickened, blood ran to his cheeks and ears.

He was sure he would have collapsed had the curtains not fluttered just ever-so-slightly for him to see you. Outside on the balcony, wind rushing through your hair and calming the Texan heat on your forehead. He would have compared you to an angel had he not thought you were far above that.

Closing the door gently behind him with a foot, he swaggered steadily towards your figure.

You only noticed someone new had entered the room when the curtain was moved to the side, shifted so that Illinois could stand next to you. While you refused to look at him, you had no choice but to stay still when his arm brushed yours against the railing. It was cool, and it kept you thinking too much about just kissing him there and then.

“Some night, huh?” he muttered, the confident exterior melting away with the temperature.

You glanced away.

“Look,” he sighed, “I’m… I don’t know what I’ve done to make you mad, but I wanna know.”

Your neck twisted so quick that you thought it had cracked. “You didn’t do anything, I just,” you trailed off. It was difficult to put it into words, ones that he could understand, at least, but you would try. “I just realized something, and it’s changed some things.”

“What was it?” He sounded almost desperate.

“That this can’t work.”

And that desperation grew. “What do you mean this can’t work?”

This time, you fully stared into his eyes. The brown, as deep as a sea trench, swam with passion and fear and everything that you had fallen in love with. You couldn’t tell him that, but you wanted to. God, you wanted to so much that it hurt to keep your mouth shut.

“This… these adventures, these bars and this relationship,” you started to explain, “I can’t keep acting like I don’t have feelings for you, like I can sit and watch you risk your life and flirt with people and not feel bad about it.”

Illinois was stunned.

You might’ve been excited or said some remark about how you got the Illinois Jones to be stunned, but you didn’t, because you fixated on the widening of his eyes and the parting of his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m already planning on leaving—” You tried to turn away, but Illinois’ hands gripped your shoulders like a lifeline, keeping you in place before you could make it to the door.

You didn’t stop a vague pleading look to overcome your face – if he was going to do something, you wanted him to do it quickly and get it over with; let you go, yell at you, laugh, even! You just wanted him to do something.

And that thing that Illinois did do surprised you.

But you quickly melted into his chest, moved like a wave caressing a beach against his body. His lips were tainted with liquor, spritzed with the ashy smoke of the downstairs bar. He didn’t smoke – told you that it would be too bad to miss out on all those adventures just for a little down time – but the taste was something close to it. All in all, he felt like fire itself. Wonderful enough to sustain life, prized enough to risk your life for, and dangerous enough to die to. Perfect enough that you would want it.

You noticed it when Illinois’ lips shifted to a smirk against your own mouth, and you pulled his hat down in response. The laugh that escaped him sent shivers down your spine, only for you to press fingertips against his back and him to gasp on his own.

“Hey, babe,” he whispered, parting only for a second, before moving into the kiss again.

You hummed.

“You still owe me that favor.”

That had you drawing back. It let you see that playful grin you had to come to love, and the wink that you had come to affectionately despise.

Leaning to peck his lips once more, you fully stepped back – not without replacing your hands on Illinois’s shoulders first – and asked, “What do you want, then?”

Eyebrows rose, smiles exchanged, and, for your and Illinois’ dignity, no sleep was gotten for the rest of that night.

#markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos #markiplier #illinois #Illinois x reader #ahwm #a heist with markiplier #writing #fanfiction #8000 #the knight market #theknightmarket #one shots #adventurers

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codenamehazard · 4 months

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.:Crash Cart:.

Chapter 26: Crash Cart

Hey guys! You're in for a really special treat for this chapter! Gonna meet some new faces, some of them might look a little familiar from a different path walked.

Big thanks to @rogueshadeaux! You'll understand why when you read the chapter. ;)

Without further delay, Let's jump in!

---------

*HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK*

The sound of the HEMTT’s horn blares through the Convoy as Dove lead-foots it through this circus of a city, I’m assuming to find a hospital. A sharp turn nearly sends me to the floor along with some plants. Goddamn it! Kid’s driving like an absolute moron! Another turn and another jostle almost sends me careening into Kestrel as she gets on the radio mounted to the wall.

“Caper to Base, Caper to Base!” Kestrel barks into the radio. “Get a trauma team ready outside of Mercy Medical! We’re coming in hot and we have a live one! Over!” There is some chatter over the line that I could barely hear, but Kestrel could. “Yes, get Bear and get the twins! It’s Code Red urgent. Over!”

I gawk at the Gunsmith as she ends the communication and relays something to the panicking bird up-front. My head is full of questions; of who this “Bear” is and who the “twins” are. Though I have to admit, I’m impressed with Kestrel’s leadership.

I can’t help but to wonder, with how Kestrel handled everything, I’m genuinely surprised that she’s not the leader. Why isn’t she? I know that with our past, I’ve seen how nasty and vicious she could be, but I’m someone she hates, so she has no loyalty to me. With her team, however, she’s as loyal as they come. Ready to go to bat when they’re threatened, even standing up to me, the Beast, when I started verbally going after Mako… Are there some other personality traits that hinder her that I haven’t seen or is this a personal choice?

Perhaps… Is there something that we both share in common?

A sudden turn nearly makes me tumble into Kestrel and Mako as the dodo bird driving skids to a halt. I wanna yell at the idiot, but with the frenetic energy buzzing in the air, I decide against it. Kid’s spooked enough, not gonna add to it. Though I will give him a good zap later for the dumbass driving.

Mako and Kestrel quickly open the door as Pangolin’s voice begins to rise from a pitiful whimper to a scream. Damnit! The pain meds are wearing off and it won’t be long until he’s thrashing again! Thankfully I can see we stopped in front of a hospital and there’s a response team outside with a stretcher at the ready when the doors are open. I help Mako get the Brick Spartan off of the cot to transfer him, Dove joining in later after he puts the HEMTT in park. With Pangolin secured, we rush inside.

“Where are they?” I hear the Gunsmith bark out as she rushes to the head nurse. “Where’s Sbiaw and Ḱaʔk̓aʔ?!” I had to steel myself as to not guffaw at the nonsense that just tumbled out of Kes’ mouth. Sbee-yaw?? Ca-ca???? The fuck kind of callsigns are those?! Especially the second one, what brain-dead dumbass uses the Spanish word for “shit” as a callsign?! I can feel my mind wanting to continue on that train of thought, but a bellow quickly derails it.

“OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, I NEED TO GET TO MY SON!!!!”

I turn my head to see, but I’m quickly yanked away by Kestrel and Mako. I’m about to give them hell for touching me without permission, but when I see what’s barreling down the hallways, I understand quickly why.

An absolute Amazoness of a woman, 7’0” tall, blazing red hair and a bear mask on her face, is charging down the hall like a rampaging bull, knocking away anything blocking her straight-shot path to us, specifically to Pangolin. As much as I hate to admit it, if I hadn’t been pulled out of the way, that woman would have sent me flying.

Behind the woman, looking tiny compared to her, were two individuals rushing to keep up with the rampaging mother. A man with brown hair that almost has a metallic shine to it and seafoam eyes and a woman with black hair and brown eyes, both of them equally focused on getting to the Spartan as well.

Soon, all hell breaks loose as soon as Pangolin starts screaming in pain. The meds must have worn off. The man with the shiny hair turns his arms from flesh to steel with a thought and helps Bear with holding the howling man down, the metal conduit using rebar to make restraints to keep Pangolin from thrashing and hitting someone. The black-haired woman walks up to Kestrel and starts talking to her, questioning her about “What the fuck has gotten into Pangolin??” What they were saying, I couldn’t hear clearly over the chaos, but I know as soon as Kestrel mentions “blink scorpions” the woman’s face went pale.

“Everyone! Get Pangolin in the Poison Ward asap!!” The woman shouts in alarm. “Double time it! If we don’t get antivenom and anti-corrodium compounds in him soon, he’s going to be in deep shit!!” Anti-corrodi-wha?! What does that even mean?! First we get stupid names and now this?! What in the hell is happening??? I don’t get any time to think about it before everyone scrambles as fast as they can without knocking over the stretcher. I can feel the beginnings of a cold sweat form as a foggy memory slips in from the mental maelstrom, the memory of myself being on a stretcher with the same chaotic energy around me before everything went black.

What happens next blurs together, adrenaline and chaos making everything hazy. A flurry of panicking feet with Bear leading the charge and clearing the way while everyone else, me included, rush the stretcher down the hall.

We’re about to get to the door, but the black-haired woman stops us. Dove gives her a dismayed look

“What the hell, Crow?!” He blurts out as the medical staff take Pangolin into the room.

“Don’t start with me, Dove.” The woman, Crow, warns the Get-Away. “You know the rules, we can’t have too many people in the room right now. Brent’s allowed in there because he’s going to help keep Pangolin under control until we can get his pain managed and the detox procedure started. Bear’s allowed in because she’s his mother.”

“But I’m his brother and she’s my mother too!” Dove protests as he is about to step forward, but Kestrel puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Drop it, Dove.” The Gunsmith states firmly. “I know you’re worried about Pango, but Crow’s right. Right now, it’s best for there to be as few bodies as possible.”

“But mom-”

“- Can help Coyote with controlling Pangolin if he starts wigging out.” The Gunsmith interrupts. “Look, let’s not give Crow and the staff grief and wait out with everyone. When Pango’s stable, then we can visit.” I can see Dove giving Kestrel a heated glare, but he sighs with an “alright, fine.”

“I’ll keep you all updated.” Crow assures Dove before she turns to look at me with a curious, yet cautious look. I don’t pay her much mind, I’m too focused on Kestrel and Dove to really notice the funny look.

With Dove finally convinced, we head off out to one of the waiting rooms. I rub my temples as I hear my tinnitus start setting in and a headache rearing its ugly head. I could use a stiff drink.

Actually, scratch that. I need some warm water and a nap.

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #caper #blast shard caper #pangolin #dove #Mako #Brent Rowland #Jean Rowland #Special thanks to RogueShaduex again for letting me borrow her babies #They'll have lots of fun with my idiots.#And I hope you will be sleeping better now knowing that your husband's in good hands now.

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incarnateirony · 3 months

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Here's the thing, I was around this crazy bitch long enough I, too, like I'm certain Mark and others are in the state of, let her absolutely fuck my head up for a while falling into her shit under good faith, "everything's equal and valid", whatever the fuck.

I KNOW by now she's said some shit that doesn't add up, she can't fucking help herself, but they'll keep putting bandaids on it to repair the narrative and make excuses for why The Great God Hermes can't see SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

When I left that house I literally had to fucking recalibrate my shit because she got me all knocked off center, I basically had to re-teach myself some shit while processing out, yeah, I too let her pull me into some ritual madness to comply with her whims. She did, indeed, get me deep in enough that for a year or so there I thought she could Boop the god Pan into my head because of our working connection, and I'd act all feral and feel like someone different, but it's just a disassociative personality state, which is why I cut her off on her "practicing" and RP, and then these motherfuckers all come in and join the crazy bus voluntarily, and here we are, 3 years later, with her still riding my dick in every way imaginable.

Like i truly had to process this bitch's Toxic Crazy off of me like an alchemical fucking event. Letting her wave around a sage stick and feel like she chased out Casper wasn't hurting anyone, but at this point we are so far past one flew over the cuckoo's nest.

The great god hermes couldn't even tell her I personally wasn't in independence when she tried to shitpost to be a smartass. I'm in Blue Springs, you dumb ho. I set your dumb ass up saying independence like a year ago. Someone else was waiting for you there. He even was telling you to call the doctor, you were going to the doctor. And you know, it's who you were looking for, it's just they don't conveniently look like my face. Yeah Shea, why DID it look like Silent Hill until the day your spider died at the domestic spider equivalent of 40 years old, right when you were told don't fight it, it's coming for you, the walls can't stop us now, everything you ever wanted was right in front of you, this was where you want to be, pokemon battle initiated, he's about to be knocked out cold. [insert Izanami fog joke of refusing to look at the truth and ultimately dying as the price]

Real weird that Kansas City Metro area had the densest fog coverage in the nationwide fogout same day my camera was shitting foggy bricks and stopped when the fog hit you bitching. You know, the densest coverage, except exactly where I fucking was, for a few mile radius, with no fog. Real fuckin weird. Notice these are all like, real events, that aren't just coming from inside my head, and at best you could argue I'm interpreting the events but there's a fucking difference here, try to spot it.

Then go watch percy jackson and get hilariously mowed down by the timing of every single fucking hermes element dropping a timeless, gift wrapped deuce on your head, somewhere between Persona 3 posting you can't escape time, only for it to early ship, only for it to also dump on your head, and a P5 leak, all when I was messaging you those songs before the leaks, and now after. All dropping titanic shits on you idiots. TO THE DUMB KIDS. GET BODIED. He's outside of space and time kids, why do you think they put him in charge of the mail--OH WAIT [pops in early Persona copy] OH LOOK AT THAT OPENING SHITTING ON YOUR FACES TOO. WONDER WHO ESCAPED TIME TO MANAGE THAT ONE, HUH ATLUS??

YOU KIDS KNOW HOW TO PLAY CRAPS???? DO NOT COME. DAMNIT YOU CUMMED, AND NOW THE FICTIONAL HERMES DEMIGOD LUKE ON TV HAS TO EXPLAIN WHY YOUR SPIDER IS DEAD, BASICALLY. LOTUS LOTUS LOTUSJUICE. BEETLEFUCKINJUICE COMING ONLY THIS MOTHERFUCKIN SEPTEMBER

Call it fucking "magic". Call it a fucking "god". It is what it is, but it certainly isn't my fucking face, and you refuse to engage it properly, just play until people pay the penalty for you fucking around.

You want to learn this shit shea, you think you do, but no, you want to play in the madness, not the reason. It's the collective subconscious, not a fucking punk rock mazda driver, but congratulations, the whole planet subconsciously knows you're nuts and kind of wants you in the dirt.

Goddamn you used to recommend Thenea, and deadass her interview with Hermes has him calling people stupid for calling him for what one calls classic magic. "Am I good at it? I mean, yeah, but [crochet story about being left or right handed] But my magic isn't right. It works for ME. Hekate is a goddess of magic that mortals can actually USE. I'll never understand why they call me instead of her. I can't teach you, go learn from a righty."

Cuz I'm gonna give you a big fuckin guess what his "magic" is. And we're gonna go right back to dragging your ass to a fucking shrink and having a Come To Jung moment here.

Face the goddamn music you obsessed bitch, you built a whole temple cult to humping my face because you couldn't delineate reality from fantasy. That's why you still had the psychotic compulsive energy to invest seven months blowing furries in a server just to try to harass my business partner three goddamn years after I left your ass and tried to forget you exist, but you won't fucking let me. You're fucking angry that I, he, whatever you perceive of it, fucking left you, and doesn't want you, and no amount of ripping out your hair or roleplaying is filling that fucking void, so you get angrier, and more obsessed, and now you're just fat, crazy, and bald, and you're just gonna keep on keeping on with your octopus jibberish instead of seeing a shrink. What you are experiencing is consequences of your actions and the stark realization that after 20 years of deluding yourself, you can't narratively replace real people, and it's not coming back.

LET US GO.

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depravity-n-savagery · 1 year

Text

Sunshine's Sinners

Ch 3 - Pity Party

[ Ch 2 ]

🥨Pairings: Billy Hargrove x (fem)Reader / Eddie Munson x (fem)Reader / Mungrove x (fem)Reader

🥨Summary: You spend some time with Eddie, avoiding Billy after what happened outside your house the other night.

🥨CW: Mild bullying, sibling arguments

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

🥨Word Count: 2k

🥨A/N: We're back!! ♡ I'm coming out the sickness AND my writer's block 🤣 So I'm feeling good ♡

Nope. No way. Not touching that today. Mothers could really be clueless sometimes. Or maybe it was a ruse, and they were actually pushing you towards something. Your mother was the 'pushing' type. She pushed you into several different hobbies as a child. She pushed you into social situations, like the night you walked Billy and Max back to their house. Now she was suggesting an option that had you burning with embarrassment.

"He seems like a sweet boy." Billy's charm really won her over, if that was her image of him. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a ride to school. I mean, you go to the same school anyway. It makes sense."

"Not happening, mom."

She knew that tone of voice was a brick wall going up, shutting out any further arguments. Her hands went up in passive acceptance. Leaving the subject alone for now. "Well, be careful on your way to school. I'm gonna try to catch up on sleep." Just saying the word 'sleep' made her yawn. "I finally have a day off today."

No amount of sleeping in during the day was going to fix her body's clock. All these overnight shifts made her basically nocturnal. Wouldn't be surprised if she was secretly a vampire or something.

A cheek kiss and a sideways hug later, you were turning the knob of your front door. Happy to see that the lock was still secure and hadn't been tampered with. "Will do. Catch you later."

After the events of last night, you were more careful than you've ever been. Especially as a teenager. A span of life experience practically made for reckless behavior. Like the idiotic way you walked up to a grown stranger and questioned him as if you had any chance of defending yourself against him. God, and to make it even worse, Billy was a witness to the whole thing. Your family's dirty laundry strewn across the lawn for his eyes to see. So much for being a perfect princess. He made a term of endearment sound like an insult, but it somehow still made your insides fluttery.

Walking the halls felt like tip-toeing your way into a guarded facility. Every careful step held the risk of setting off an alarm. Alerting a certain head of curls that you were stupid to think you could avoid for long. Any amount of time would have to do. A day. A few hours. Or… ten seconds. The ten seconds it took for you to reach your locker, and look in the direction of the gymnasium's big double doors.

As if his stare put a bright spotlight over your head, his teammates followed his line of sight. Busted. You couldn't see pity or annoyance in his eyes. No matter how deeply you searched the ocean for it. The waters were calm. Unusually void of life for something so vibrantly colored. Like his pink lips mouthing something at you, too fast for you to read. Too far away for you to hear. All you could make out was your name, and it pissed you off how quickly your mind conjured up a fantasy of him moaning it. The more you tried to wish it away, the more detailed it became. Filling in the spaces with his warm breath and the smell of cigarettes and mint gum. His sticky sweet cherry chapstick.

By the time the bell rang, you took the long way to class. One tardy wouldn't harm your grades. Walking past Billy would. "Hey!" You heard his booming voice shoot over the crowd and kept walking. Doing what you did best in a mass of hurried students. Becoming just another face in the crowd. A privilege that your next target would probably never have.

Eddie always stood out like a priest in a whorehouse.

That just made it easier to find him once lunchtime came around. Follow the rambunctious laughter and wild gesturing; there was always one Eddie Munson at the end of that rainbow. You were one of the first few people to enter the large room. Looking over rows and rows of empty tables until you saw the tell-tale shag and denim vest. He was quiet without his usual group of club members surrounding him. Elbow propped up on the table so he could rest his face in the palm of his hand and slowly stuff pretzels into his mouth from a small ziplock bag. Pretzels? Everyone else had a tray. You had one. Wasn't he hungry?

With a little extra motivation in your step, you approached Eddie's table and put your tray down beside him. He lazily shifted his focus up towards you. "You uh…lost?"

"Nope." To emphasize that point, you plopped down into the seat. "Just wanted to sit here." Eddie was hard to read, but he was probably thinking the same about you. He watched the doors, looking for either one of his friends or someone that could be in on a set-up. "I wanted to thank you. Gave me some quality shit." An honest-to-goodness smile formed, and even Eddie was no match for it. He gave you a smaller (and confused) smile in return, turning in his seat to face you. His fingertips ran over the salty ridges of a small pretzel and you wondered if the skin there was rough.

"So you risk social suicide to thank little old me?" Eddie fluttered his eyelashes like a Disney princess. Comedic intentions aside, he was pretty. Unexpectedly. A wildflower in a cemetery. "I don't usually get a review from my customers, so thanks." He leaned in, like it was a secret. As if everyone didn't already know that he deals.

Then the silence came. He looked you over quizzically, hiding it less with every minute that passed. "Hungry?" Just to ease the tension, and quiet the nagging voice in the back of your head, you slid your tray closer to him. "Think Jeanette has the hots for me or somethin'. She always loads my tray with fries." You pluck a few from the pile and nibble on them, hoping he'd feel more open to sharing instead of feeling pressured to eat it all himself.

Hesitantly, he dipped his hand into the warm pile and ate one fry. Somehow finding the one with the most salt sprinkled over it. His stomach gurgled loud enough for you to hear, demanding to be fed more than his ziplock bag would've given it. You kept on as if you heard nothing. Don't know what's the situation with his eating, but he clearly needs it more than I do. It was enough to share food in comfortable silence. That is, until the usual suspects started coming in.

"Check it out, The Freak's got a new little friend!"

Freak. You've heard them harass him in the hallways over the years, and it sort of faded into the background. All part of the high school ambience. Now you noticed how ugly it felt, and you weren't even on the receiving end. Eddie dropped the fry he almost put into his mouth, instead using his salt-dusted fingertips to give a dainty wave towards the couple of jocks that stood beside the table. "Awe, Andy what's wrong? Feel replaced?"

Two jocks became five, and you were starting to feel a bit nervous. Where the basketball team was, there was usually their newest star Billy. So far he was nowhere to be seen. Just 'Andy' and the anger he spewed towards you after Eddie's teasing comment. "Fuck off, Freak! Don't get bold because you've got some bitch giving you the time of day."

A loud, masculine voice parted the gathering cluster of team jerseys and basketball shorts. "Hey! Cool it, Andy." Despite your mission to avoid him, you wanted to catch a glimpse of him. Sunny curls coming to your rescue once again. Sadly, the closer he got, the more you saw that it wasn't your neighbor. It was Steve Harrington. "Leave em'. Got a game coming up, and we don't need you getting into any more trouble."

You hadn't spoken to Steve since Barbra was still around. Since Nancy still considered you someone worth entertaining a friendship with, instead of an ugly scar leftover from having Barb ripped away too soon. There was a soft thanks on your lips for him that died when you saw the way he looked at you. Shaking his head like a disapproving parent before leading his teammates away to their table.

Right after they cleared, a familiar bunch entered from the door farthest away from you. Three boys wearing shirts just like Eddie's. He cleared his throat, saying your name just above a whisper. "You don't have to pity me, y'know. Most of the people who buy from me either act like I don't exist or throw me into a locker when they get the chance. I know the way it works."

"I don't pity you, Eddie." You try to brighten his spirits with another smile, but he wilts. "I wanted to sit and chat with you. You're cool to hang with." As his friends get closer you see him tense, so you stand. Leaving the tray behind.

"I'll save you a seat tomorrow. If- if you want."

"Thanks." You throw him a wink for good measure. That puts the color back in his cheeks. "See you then."

"Y/n! Over here!"

There he was. You had made it through the day without seeing him, it was a shock to hear him call you directly. Standing there beside his Camaro as Max came over on her skateboard. He must've been waiting for her. And you.

"Get in the car. I'm taking you home." He said plainly, turning to open the driver's seat door once you were a couple feet away. Even Max looked at him in shock, but kept her questions to herself. "Backseat, Shitbird. You know the drill." I guess it wasn't the first time he had a girl along for the ride. Already? He's only been in Hawkins for like, five seconds.

Long enough to have you swapping spit with him in the middle of the night. Maybe you weren't as special as you stupidly let yourself believe. Whatever. Special or not, you regretted your stubborn insistence on walking to school this morning. If he was offering a free ride, then who were you to turn it down? It's not like he'd bring up the situation in front of Max.

Instead, he'll argue with her. From the moment he pulled out of the parking lot. Bickering about whose turn it was to do whatever chore, when to be back home from the arcade, and most of all… how much he hated moving here. "Watch that fucking tone with me. You don't like it, then you shouldn't have done what you did. Whose fault is it that we had to move here?"

"Yours…" Max grumbled, folding in on herself with a hope that he didn't hear her. The snap in his neck as he turned to her made her curl up even tighter.

"What was that?" Billy was full-blown yelling, lurching the car forward with increased speed. "WHOSE FAULT, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!"

The trees along the road were becoming a blur. Zooming by so fast you were starting to feel sick. "If I say it was my fault will you calm down?? You're gonna kill us!"

"Mind your goddamn business." He lowered the volume, but all the ice remained. Being on the receiving end of Billy's anger was starting to be one of your least favorite occurrences. "You don't even know what she did.."

Home in one piece, you leaped up from your seat and exited the Camaro before he came to a complete stop. The grass did look greener, when you feared that you'd never see it again. "Thanks." A ride is a ride. Deadly or not. Maybe you should walk more often.

Somewhere in his grumbles were sounds that resembled 'your welcome'. Heavy-footed, he charged on toward his front door and slammed it behind him.

"Thanks.. for helping with Billy." Max said, spinning the wheel on her skateboard. She hurried after Billy to avoid another altercation. You couldn't blame her. It was scary being yelled at like that, but Billy had a point. Whatever issue he's so upset about was in the making before they even moved here. There had to be something stirring up all that rage.

Masterlist , Series Masterlist , Ao3 ☆

Taglist: @sidthedollface2 , @bontensbabygirl , @killing-gremlin

#stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #mungrove

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mortemoppetere · 1 year

Text

TIMING: current. PARTIES: @muertarte & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: metzli and emilio butt heads when they end up going after the same person. it doesn't end as poorly as it could have. CONTENT WARNINGS: head trauma.

The rapid sounds of feet crunched and thumped against the wet earth while tree branches groaned with the weight of a predator. The prey’s heavy breaths wheezed desperately through overworked lungs, and the sound only brought joy to the vampire’s ears. It wasn’t uncommon for them to toy with their meal, especially when it had taken to an atrocity such as forging. Metzli scoffed to themself at the thought, lamenting the dead prospect of attaining a Renoir.

The man who called himself Henry brought in a lackluster forgery, offending the vampire within seconds. Metzli’s body reacted far quicker than they had anticipated, forcing the pursuit to begin immediately, much to both their delight and chagrin. They preferred to be a little more calculated than that, but they supposed it couldn’t be helped. There was no other option than to go along with it.

The chase was lasting longer than it took them to see through the prey’s facade. Which, to the idiot’s credit, he was determined to sneak a fast one to the best curator in the state. Metzli had to give him some credit for mustering the cajones to try, though. The vampire knew rumors spread quickly about how people like Henry went missing after a failed swindle at Muertarte. Now he was going to be next.

He’d been watching the guy for a while now. Henry — though Emilio had figured out pretty quickly that that wasn’t his real name — had his hand in the door in so many illegal activities that it was almost impressive. At first, the detective had assumed he was a siren, or maybe a spriggan. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

His latest client was one of many people who’d been swindled by the guy and, if it were just the swindling and the stealing, Emilio wouldn’t have given much of a shit. People stealing from each other rarely blipped on his particular moral radar given the number of times he’d been in a position where he had to steal something himself, and the people who tended to come to him about it typically had enough money to throw around that it was more of an ego blow than anything significant. But ‘Henry’ wasn’t just stealing. His rap sheet was longer than that. And more than a few things on that rap sheet made Emilio figure that, human or not, somebody needed to take the guy out.

Today was planned as a recon mission. Watch the guy on his latest scam, take a few notes, put together whatever version of a ‘plan’ someone like Emilio was capable of coming up with. (Not much of one, Rosa used to say. Em’s plans are just ‘stab here,’ when you really get down to it. She’d always known him better than most.) He wasn’t looking to make contact, but when ‘Henry’ peeled out like the damn house was on fire and nearly took Emilio out in an attempt to shove past him… Well, there was no time like the present, was there?

“Hey, what’s the rush?” He shoved the man backwards, slamming him against the brick wall. “You know, it’s funny that I’d run into you. I was hoping we’d get the chance to talk.” A knife slipped from his sleeve and into his hand, and he held it up briefly to keep Henry from trying to run. It didn’t seem as effective as it normally might have; the man shoved against the hunter’s grip desperately, unable to break the hold but clearly panicking more than he should have been. Christ, Emilio thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It’s just a fucking knife. What a goddamn baby.

In any case, it was clear that there’d be no conversation that was anything less than entirely one-sided. He might as well get the killing out of the way so he could move on to the next case. “All right,” he relented. “Guess we won’t talk. Not much good at it, anyway. Prefer the fun part.” He shifted his grip, preparing to drive the blade home.

Metzli’s path was cut short given the new body in their field of vision. The man seemed to know the vampire’s meal, and while that should’ve deterred them, it only made their mouth water. Made their pupils turn into mere points as they widened their eyes with a quiet snarl. No way a silly man was going to take what was rightfully theirs.

Wasting no time, they positioned themself above the pair, listening for the right moment to drop. Their ears perked at the finiality in the man’s voice, signaling to Metzli that it was the right time to quite literally let go and let gravity do its thing.

They landed with a dull thud just behind the would-be assassin, granting the vampire the opportunity to reach around, take Henry’s head, and smash it into the wall, rendering him unconscious. With him taken care of, Metzli grabbed the stranger from behind, ready to snap his neck as they allowed him to explain why he was trying to take their rightful kill. It likely wouldn’t do much to deter them, but they were just trying to be polite.

“Few seconds before I kill and take mine.” They spoke in broken English, still trying to get the hang of such a stupid language. “Speak.” Metzli squeezed even tighter for a moment, slipping their leg between the man’s to get him to his knees. Having only one arm, Metzli had learned they had to level the playing field somehow.

It crept up on him, that feeling that made every hair on the back of his neck stand up at once. A familiar sensation, one Emilio had come to know well throughout his life. As a kid, his mother made sure it was the kind of thing he’d recognize in an instant, stuck him alone with every undead thing she could find just so he’d never be caught off guard. Something dead was closing in. It was enough to give him pause, for a moment.

He figured he could deal with it when this was taken care of, take out that trash once this one had been finished off. And maybe he should have known better. After all, for Emilio, things so rarely went as planned. In any case, he wasn’t expecting the vampire to attack him first. He should have been. After everything he’d been through, he really should have.

They moved quickly, slamming Henry’s head against the wall and turning him to dead weight in the hunter’s arms. Emilio scowled as he was grabbed and yanked around, hand shooting into his coat pocket to retrieve a stake that pressed against the vampire’s chest in an instant, leaving the two of them in a standoff. The vampire, with their hand gripping the slayer’s throat, and Emilio, with his stake pressed against their skin but not yet breaking through.

“Don’t see your name on it.” There was another familiar shiver down his spine at their accent, at the way it curled around words not yet familiar. Similar to his own, a sure sign that they’d probably both be a lot more comfortable doing this in Spanish. Even with the realization, Emilio refused to fall into the comfort of his first language. He was just petty enough to make things harder on himself if it meant he could also make them harder on someone else, too. His bad leg screamed as the vampire tried to force him to his knees but, using enhanced strength that they must not have realized he had just yet, he managed to stay on his feet in spite of it. “There are plenty of other people to kill. Why go through so much trouble for this specific one?” It would be easy to just let them have it. Emilio wanted the man dead, but he didn’t particularly care how it happened. But stubbornness ran through his veins in a way that wouldn’t let him give in to anything undead, even if he wasn’t losing anything in the process.

The dance was a familiar one, sharp and furious with a speed that only few knew how to sync with. Especially when the parties were never meant to keep pace with one another. It looked to Metzli that the man had experienced his fair share of tangos, moving to the music of danger and chaos. A delicate and unstable crescendo of instruments that usually came in the form of sharp metal and flesh.

This time though, wood decided to join in on the symphony, and much to Metzli’s dismay, the musician had no intention of putting it down. They squeezed tighter around his neck, snarling at the lack of tact in his demeanor. Figuring him to be a hunter given the obvious, they decided to use their words instead of their teeth. Not the route they truly wanted to take, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, as if they had any other option anyway.

“And your name? Do not see it on him.” Metzli hissed, letting their body sink into the stake ever so slightly without ever changing their expression. There was no pain to be felt since Eloy taught them to numb themself to it. They really should have cared more, if only for their dress shirt. It ripped at the chest, rendering it trash. Oh well, Metzli supposed. They had to deal with trash first anyhow.

“Attack my business. My kill.” They admitted with a monotone, looking toward the body. “Why you care? Did he do a crime on you?”

The pressure around his throat increased, but Emilio didn’t falter. His glare bore into the vampire, even as the added pressure made breathing a little more difficult. He’d faced far worse than this; strangulation was one of the first things his mother taught him to endure, long before he was old enough to be locked in rooms with the undead and expected to survive the encounters. If anything, this was easier than most of the training that had preceded it. The vampire had only one hand to squeeze his airway shut with. His mother had always used two.

Of course, the vampire wasn’t backing down any more than Emilio was. In a way, he was almost glad for it. With the asshole behind him unconscious, he’d need something to entertain himself, something to keep him from falling back into his thoughts. Figuring out whether or not he wanted to drive this stake home would be a good means of entertainment, he decided. Though, given the way the vampire leaned into the wood, he might not have to make the decision at all. His grip on the stake tightened a little, just in case this was some ploy to get him to release it. He had more in his jacket, of course — his pockets were always weighed down with more weapons than ought to be possible for one man to carry — but it was always best to avoid being taken off guard.

“How do you know? You don’t know my name.” The statement was dry, the kind of thing that might have passed for a joke if the person he’d said it to had had a heartbeat. Tilting his head up slightly, Emilio studied the vampire for a moment. “He’s done a lot worse than attacking businesses. You think you have a right to him because he lost you money? Hurt your pride?”

Of course the hunter was difficult, they were trained to be. And really, Metzli had a little sympathy for the cretins. There were similarities in upbringings. Torture disguised as training, desensitization used as a ploy to create soldiers and mold them to feel nothing even as white-hot pain threatened to pierce through their steeled flesh. It would be easy to acknowledge that, to find some sort of common ground, but as two warriors on opposite sides of the never-ending war, that truth would never come out without crimson staining their skin. Without boring into each other’s eyes as their torture mirrored one another to give them pause, just as it had for the vampire.

For the first time in a while, Metzli’s eyes were reflected back at them, letting some form of emotion creep in ever so slightly. Something in his eyes hovered like a ghost, like anything that returned from the dead. Those only come back for two things. Love or revenge. And the man in front of them wasn’t around for the former.

“Do not need to know name.” They practically tutted with annoyance at having to speak English when the person in front of them had an obvious accent. Metzli chocked it up to his innate need to do nothing for the undead but kill them. It didn’t matter anyway. They’d just speak in their native tongue and let it be one-sided. He could answer in English if he wanted. “Forgers always have more cons and far worse backgrounds, especially when they think they can steal from me. Which he didn’t because I am not an idiot.”

Metzli shoved the hunter away with a kick to his stomach, completely tearing their shirt. They groaned quietly, wishing they had worn a binder, but they were satisfied nonetheless. There was distance between them now, and their kill was just behind them. All they needed to do was pick him up and ignore the nuisance in front of them. “What is it they call it here? Dibs? I have dibs. Now leave.”

In truth, the expression on the vampire’s face was a familiar one. Emilio had seen it in the mirror more often than he’d care to admit. The careful blankness of it, the way they refused to let anything even remotely human shine through. They had more of an excuse for that than he did, all things considered; physically, Emilio was as human as he’d ever been. He just didn’t feel like it anymore. Everything that had ever made him feel like a person had been stripped from him in that massacre, and everything left now served only to remind him of what he’d lost. He wondered if it was easier not having to hear your own heartbeat, not having to fill your lungs with air. They were both dead things walking. Emilio just happened to look it a little less.

“Wouldn’t tell you, anyway.” Odds were, they’d recognize it. And if things were tense now, he couldn’t imagine they’d get any better with his family’s reputation between them. Part of him wanted to say it anyway, wanted to welcome the inevitable fight that would come with it, but he held back. His pride was the only thing that could outweigh his melancholy and as much as he might want to make a martyr of himself, he wasn’t about to let a vampire be the one to end him.

He clicked his tongue as the vampire continued in Spanish. “Stupid enough to chase him through the streets. Should have taken care of him on the spot. Would have had less competition.” Continuing in English put him on an uneven playing field, he knew. He wasn’t good with English. (Frankly, he wasn’t much better with Spanish — Elena Cortez had never had much interest in teaching her children to speak. A blade didn’t need to know how to carry on a conversation.) But Spanish was the vampire’s preferred language, and Emilio didn’t like the idea of giving them anything they preferred. Forcing his half of the conversation into a language that didn’t fit well in either of their mouths might be inconvenient for him, but it was inconvenient for them, too. That was what mattered.

The kick wasn’t entirely unexpected, but he grunted as it knocked the wind out of him all the same. The stake remained tight in his grip, ripping the vampire’s shirt as it went backwards with him and his eyes darted down to ensure that it was undamaged enough to avoid needing replacement. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the mark on the vampire’s now-exposed chest. It was a familiar one. His uncle had sketched it out once, pointing to the curves of it carefully. His mother made Emilio and his siblings memorize it, along with others. Eventually, they would have been expected to take action against the clan, as they had others. It was this particular mission, the one to rid Mexico of any vampire clan that kicked up dirt within the country’s borders, that led to Victor’s death. But not this particular clan. This clan, Emilio had learned, was torn apart much later and from the inside. One of the leader’s own lieutenants, for reasons that evidently hadn’t been a power grab given the way the entire group dissipated once the leader was dead. “You’re a long way from home, no? Though I guess you don’t have much of one anymore. Los Sombras del Sur. Trying to stay relevant?”

A low rumble thrummed in Metzli’s chest, a growl quietly escaping their mouth, dripping with irritation. It didn’t really make a difference that the hunter was from their homeland, but it didn’t help. A hunter was as much of a pest as a rat, though that was insulting to the rodent population. What made a real difference was the fact that he knew exactly what clan Metzli was from. Not exactly surprising, they supposed. They just didn’t want to be associated with a life that took everything from them. Being relevant had nothing to do with it.

“Had nothing before, have nothing now. You are an idiot if you think being of any sort of relevance was an option in that clan.” Metzli nearly laughed, but all that happened was a smile began to form. As if it was noticeable. “All that mattered was Master Eloy. Killing him myself fixed that. His and the clan’s existence are done. I imagine you would be easy in comparison to an elder, but I have no use in killing you.”

They kept their eyes trained on the man, watching for any signs of an attack. So much as a twitch, and Metzli would be on the prowl. For the time being though, they unsheathed their knife and plunged it into Henry’s neck in one fluid motion as crimson eyes bore into the darkness. If they couldn’t take the kill with their teeth, they were spiteful enough to do it with a boring and tasteless blade. At the very least, the sound and smell of sweet iron made their throat and muscles tense. A hungry monster was dangerous. Add intelligence in there, and one had a lot of trouble coming their way. To make matters worse, at least for the slayer, the monster in front of him had a well-known name in Mexico’s supernatural ecosystem.

It was a fair assessment of the clan, though Emilio was surprised they were the one making it. Typically, vampires were more loyal to the clans they’d come up in. It was an irritation at best — it meant you couldn’t take on the leader of any clan without taking on the rest of them, too, meant that you were never fighting a battle with just one person, meant that anyone manipulated or forced into it wound up as collateral damage. His mother would hate that line of thinking, Emilio knew, but he’d seen plenty of supernatural people who weren’t all bad. Even undead ones. They didn’t all deserve to die, even if the vast majority of them did. But clans, and the elders who lead them, had a tendency to force the people under them into submission.

Some with less efficiency than others, apparently. A faint expression of vague interest crossed his face as they mentioned killing Eloy, and he wondered if it was true or if it was just some attempt at intimidation. It was plausible enough. He knew the leader of Los Sombras del Sur had been killed by a lieutenant, knew that the lieutenant had survived the ordeal, and had no idea where they’d wound up after. He’d been a little too busy losing everything to keep up with the specifics of what anyone else was doing around that time.

Any begrudging respect he might have had, though, dissipated as the vampire continued, and he rolled his eyes. “If you did do what you’re claiming,” he said, “you ought to know better than to underestimate an opponent. I may not be as easy to kill as you think.” Plenty others had tried, over the years, and Emilio was still standing. Sometimes, he let himself believe that that meant something.

He watched the knife bury itself in Henry’s neck with a sigh, rolling his eyes again. He didn’t much care who killed the criminal, at the end of the day. A dead man was still dead, no matter who delivered the fatal blow. But it was a little annoying, if only because the vampire was beginning to grate on him. He didn’t tend to hang around the undead for more than a few moments at a time unless he was ‘questioning’ one, and that faint buzz alerting him to their presence got old after a while. “Great,” he said dryly. “You gonna come at me next? Be polite to give me a warning.”It was the vampire’s turn to roll their eyes. Not only was the Spanish one-sided when it didn’t need to be, they hated when the need to repeat themself arose. Speaking held such little value in comparison to actions. People always tended to fluff up their words and misdirect; lie by any means in order to sate their needs. Metzli didn’t care for lying. So much so that they even detested things like diet soda. It was just a drink lying about being soda. Not even mixing blood in it could make it taste good. The very thought made Metzli want to grimace, but they had a more important matter to take care of first.

“I killed him, and I did not underestimate you. I merely made an assessment. Which, mind you, I would not be surprised if you proved wrong. Hunters are nothing if not persistent.” Metzli licked the knife, barely humming as the taste coated their tongue with a sweet and savory flavor that they could never get tired of. They had no other choice, not really; all thanks to the fateful bite Eloy bestowed upon them. There wasn’t much use crying over it, and it wasn’t like they would at that moment. It had been many decades since they last shed a tear anyhow.

“I told you already that I had no use killing you. That includes hurting you. I provoked you when I went after my kill, and now he is dead. My job here is done.” Finishing the final remnants of blood on their knife, Metzli sheathed their knife and studied the body on the ground. Maybe it was the wrong call, but they didn’t feel threatened anymore. If the man wanted to make any sort of attack, they were confident they could handle it. “If you won’t tell me your name though, I will at least tell you mine since you are the least annoying hunter I have met.” Metzli turned back to the slayer, “Metzli Bernal. A pleasure...” They bowed at the waist, sighing when they returned to standing upright. “Whatever your name is.”

It was hard to tell when a vampire was being honest. In some ways, Emilio almost envied wardens for that — at least the monsters they hunted couldn’t spin lies to try to tangle them up with. The safe thing to do, his mother would say, was to assume that anything undead was always being dishonest, to trust those with a heartbeat and discount those without one. But Emilio no longer found things to be so clear-cut. After all, Lucio’s heart had been beating strong when he’d sold his family out. Breath in his lungs and warmth on his skin hadn’t stopped that. And this vampire, in this moment, didn’t seem to be lying.

Maybe, a few years ago, Emilio would have been some version of impressed. Killing an elder wasn’t easy, even for a vampire. He never would have admitted to any respect it might have earned them, of course — doing so while his mother was alive, when it might make it back to her, would have been about as smart as sticking a fork in a light socket and ten times as dangerous — but there might have been some there. These days, though… It was hard to feel much beyond the grief and the anger he’d buried himself in. Most days, all he was was sorry. “I’ve been called persistent, sure.” He got the feeling they didn’t mean it as a compliment, but he’d heard far worse insults.

“Oh, most you could do is try. I’m sturdier than I look.” Still, there was something… interesting about it. A vampire stepping back, leaving a hunter be. His mother would have said such a thing was impossible. Of course, his mother would have stuck a blade in his gut for standing here and having a conversation when there was a perfectly good stake in his hand, so it might be best to take her voice in his head with a grain of salt this time. “Emilio,” he replied, making no move to offer anything beyond his first name. “You’re not the most annoying vampire I’ve met, I guess. But I don’t think I’d call you the least, either.” He inclined his head back towards the corpse now sitting against the wall. “I’m not getting rid of that. You killed him, you take care of the body. Anything else’d be shit manners.”

Surprise nearly painted across Metzli’s features, not expecting the slayer named Emilio to reveal himself. Wasn’t usual for either side to behave so amicably. It was always bite first, ask questions later. Safer that way for each party. Attacking first meant no one could catch you with your guard down. While Metzli’s wasn’t entirely up, they still had a layer of caution in every movement, knowing that any wrong move could prove catastrophic. Until then, they decided to go along with whatever the two were creating. It wasn’t a friendship or alliance, but it was something along the lines of a temporary tolerance. If such a thing were possible in their world.

With a sigh, they planted their hand on their hip, looking at the body with a shrug. “You’re right. It is only fair. I will get rid of him. My friend will consume it. Bones and all.” Metzli gestured vaguely to the body, crouching down to assess how bad the cleanup would be. They tutted to themself, a small chastise for letting their pettiness get the better of them. It was a petulant outburst, but they hardly regretted taking something from a slayer. In spite of this, they still had manners. Metzli was no heathen. Not even to a sworn enemy. “No trace back to you, Emilio. No…shit manners here.”

Metzli stood erect again with a bemused hum, looking down at the man with a blank expression. He’d half-complimented a vampire of all things, and that was an alluring act. It deserved some investigation. “Are you a…what do they call it here?” They tapped their chin, trying to find the right term. “Oh. I remember. A coconut? You have the accent but speak no Spanish.” It was more of a taunting jab to get Emilio to speak their tongue, but their face or tone of voice gave no indication of that. Metzli wasn’t a funny person and they didn’t normally partake in jokes because they were never allowed to—never learned to, but they certainly could now, when it benefited them enough. That was the beauty of their hard-earned freedom.

Their friend. It seemed a surprising confession to make, given everything. Context clues allowed him to guess that their friend was also undead. If ‘friend’ wasn’t a term that mostly meant ‘pet,’ he could assume that whoever it was was also sentient enough to have friends, which made him lean towards zombie. Part of him itched at that, the same way it always did when he got wind of something undead. Some habits, some thought processes were hard to break free from, and Emilio’s upbringing had left such little room for exceptions when it came to the undead. But this vampire had taken care of a problem back in Mexico, and they weren’t attacking him now. If anything, their goals seemed to align somewhat with his — taking out people who needed taking out. He could give them a momentary benefit of the doubt.

He could always kill them later, if he had to. Right now, he meant it about expecting them to get rid of the body. Lugging corpses around wasn’t nearly as easy as it had once been now that he had a bum leg and a body that hadn’t been properly taken care of in years. “I’ll hold you to that. Anybody comes sniffing, I throw your ass under the bus.” Though he wouldn’t let them be arrested. A vampire in a human prison wouldn’t end well for anyone involved, and assisting the police in any way had never been of much interest to Emilio. More likely, if the police came sniffing around, he’d pay off Javier for an alibi and stake the vampire out of spite.

As they continued, he stiffened a little. The term wasn’t one he knew, but based on context clues, he knew he didn’t like it. The attempt to coerce him into speaking their shared native tongue was a smart one; Emilio had always responded to jabs before thinking over their motivation. “I speak Spanish when I want to,” he said irritably, the words rolling off his tongue in Spanish so much easier than they ever would have come in English. “It’s not my fault my English is better than yours. Maybe you need the practice.” The taunt wasn’t entirely fair, given the fact that his English really wasn’t much better than the vampire’s and certainly wasn’t good, but Emilio tended to respond to perceived insults in kind.

Emilio was a funny guy, it seemed. Hot-headed but somehow calculated all at once. As an older man, an older hunter, Metzli supposed he had to be a decent mixture of the two if he’d lived this long to be considered that. Hunters his age were short on supply thanks to their dangerous occupation. They were indeed sturdy, like many of the people they hunted, but it was often that roles were reversed in an instant in the heat of battle. Whoever falls as prey, loses their life. Emilio was fortunate—or possibly unfortunate given what Metzli knew of families in their line of work—to have never fallen as prey. They wondered if it was that careful humor he held within him. It certainly gave the vampire pause. Enough to not wish to kill him. Yet.

“Ah, so not a coconut?” Metzli grunted with amusement, taking a seat next to the dead body to scan Emilio a little further. They could hear how elevated his heartbeat was, but it was much better than it was when they first pounced on him. If they didn’t know any better, Metzli would have to guess that his current bps was simply his baseline. Another gift from the job. Had the vampire had a heart, they thought maybe theirs would be the same, possibly even hiccuping with anger at the privileged choice of words. Not that Emilio was privileged by any means. He was just sounding a lot like those kinds of people. America may have sunk its teeth too far in, much to their chagrin.

“Calm down. You will start sounding like all those Americans who tell us to go back to our homeland.” Emilio responded to jabs, so Metzli gave another, hoping to irritate him into behaving. “I just got here not too long ago. After killing Eloy, they told me to leave Mexico, but they did not exactly make it easy to do so.” They shrugged, rubbing at their shoulder in an attempt to hide their smile. It was nice to speak and hear their native language, even under those circumstances. “I will learn in time. Our people are resilient and determined. What about you though? Why America? This is not your home.”

“No. Not that.” It was strange, speaking to them in Spanish. Emilio might have claimed it was because they were undead, though it wasn’t entirely true. His native tongue felt like something of a double-edged sword, these days. It was the language he’d used to sing his daughter to sleep at night, but it was also the language spoken by the monsters who had killed her. His nephew hadn’t known a word of English, and neither had his murderer. It was the language with which his mother had praised him when he did well, but also the language she’d used to berate him for his every mistake. Both knife and salve, somehow, making wounds and repairing them in the same strike.

Gritting his teeth in irritation, he waved a hand in Metzli’s direction at the accusation. He’d had the same experience, of course, throughout his time in the States. Strangers hurling insults because of the way his words came out wrong, scoffing at the way he didn’t always understand the things they said. But this kind of teasing was different when it came from someone who shared your heritage. Less a toss off a cliff face, more a playful shove.

Their question, though, gave him pause. Staying in Mexico would have been dangerous for him, to be sure. The vampires who had ripped through his town and killed his family would be chomping at the bit to take out the final member, with even those who hadn’t been a part of the massacre eager to earn the bragging rights that would come with wiping the Cortez line off the map. But that wasn’t why Emilio left. He hadn’t been trying to save himself, hadn’t been looking to spare his own life. It was somehow both simpler and more complicated than that. “I don’t have a home,” he replied, shrugging a shoulder. “Not here or there.”

“Hm…” Metzli leaned back against the tree, nearly fully relaxing. It was becoming easier to, especially with the developing rose-colored glasses. Coming to a compromise with an enemy had a cathartic element to it. Cemented the idea that monsters could have light behind their eyes, not just motivated by bloodlust. By rage. Quiet and simmering entities that were empty, dark, and full of malevolence. An all-consuming combination that left its host feeling as if their mind was not their own.

In Metzli’s case, it wasn’t, and they didn’t know Emilio all that well to speak for him and find common ground in that like everything else they had so far. “I see…I do not either.” They finally replied, close to feeling something. Metzli was a bit more inclined to try to relate to someone when they could compare wounds, and the loss on Emilio was evident. They were surprised they even tried, all things considered. Emilio was a hunter—a slayer, but he had paused. This, in turn, compelled the vampire to extend themself to him. Fight against every instinct to tear at his skin.

“You have my condolences.” Eloy had brewed his monsters together himself and made every fledgling his. He controlled the entity in them, and when he felt any semblance of defiance, he disciplined quickly. Took more of their essence and replaced it with that darkness. Metzli thought they’d get themself back when they killed Eloy, but his death left much to be desired. Whoever they were, they were still lost. All that was left was a numb and dark beast, somehow managing to feel the faintest sparks. Of what though, they didn’t know. Perhaps it was that empathy Honey talked so often about. The thing that made her shed tears when Metzli gathered their thoughts enough to speak about how they felt about their experiences coherently. Had to be. It was a humorous idea. A vampire empathizing with a slayer. But Metzli was nothing if not defiant. They’d always encompassed that trait.

Emilio grunted in response to the vampire’s statement, unsure how to feel about it. He wasn’t certain if they were trying to relate to him or simply stating a fact. He wasn’t sure which option would be preferable. Even now, even after having decided that he wouldn’t be killing them in this moment unless they made it a necessity, he wasn’t sure how to feel about having things in common with one of the things he’d been taught to hunt all his life. Elena Cortez had raised her children up with a mentality that forced a strict way of thinking, and while the birth of Emilio’s daughter had broken some of that spell… it was a hard thing to shake in its entirety.

Perhaps that was why he bristled when Metzli offered their condolences, why every muscle in his body seemed to tense at once. Or, more likely, maybe this was a reaction he would have had from anyone who offered such a thing. Condolences spoke of a grief that Emilio had been desperately trying to replace with anger since the tragedy that birthed it. Accepting them would place him on a ledge he wasn’t sure he could balance for long. “I don’t want condolences. It is what it is.” There was no home to return to, and that was fine. There were no people to miss him, and that was better. That was by design. He’d left Rhett behind for a reason, after all.

Deciding a change in subject was necessary, Emilio spoke again. “This town, you live here? You said you had a business.”

The teeth in the slayer’s words didn’t sting, didn’t leave a mark. It was a small nip from a big dog, demanding Metzli to step away from their offer. They could understand, to a degree. Accepting their condolences would not only mean he’d have to concede his teachings on what vampires were to him, but also acknowledge his loss. “Fine. I did not want it either when my town was massacred.” Metzli ran too—had been running since they learned how to shut themself off from the world. It was easier that way. That’s what they told themself. But the reality of it was that the pain was inevitable, came in waves that could make one drown if they didn’t learn how to swim away. And it appeared both Metzli and Emilio were very good swimmers.

“Yes, I live here. I own the art gallery in town. If you hear of forgers going missing in this area, it is likely my doing. Do not care for liars or dishonorable thieves.” One would think there was no such thing as honor in the act of stealing, but Metzli believed there was. Not everyone was dealt an easy hand, and when they were younger themself, they had taken to stealing food. But stealing highly sought after art that was worth thousands, if not millions. Well, that wasn’t exactly just a necessity, was it? That money was used for far more than just living costs and regular daily expenses. There was a bigger operation, and now Metzli knew both sides intimately. Their beliefs are the reason a shipment of crates that took food from the poor went “missing” during one of Eloy’s many missions. Sadly, like Henry, they were caught and promptly punished, leaving them with one less arm.

“I worked hard to get the business started, and idiots like him,” Metzli pointed a thumb at Henry, “Are usually in with more than just forgery. Trafficking, murder, torture…” They tutted as they shook their head, with a grimace painted on their face. “Rather get rid of them.” Pausing for a moment, Metzli tilted their head, growing curious. “And you? Do you live in town as well?”

Metzli’s statement about their town was so familiar that Emilio had to stop himself from flinching at the words. He wondered, for a moment, if they’d recognized him from the start and were only playing with him now, if they knew exactly what he’d lost and were just pretending not to in order to lower his guard. The paranoia that lived in his chest forced a lump into his throat, insisting that this must be the case, that Metzli was toying with him the same way they’d been toying with the dead man in the alley behind them. He shook the thought from his head as best he could, trying to force it from his mind. If Metzli was telling the truth about who they were — and Emilio had no reason to think they weren’t — they had even fewer connections in Mexico than he did. There was hardly any threat of them running off and telling those left over from the massacre in Etla where to find him. And even if they did… That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To face the monsters that tore his family from him head on. To keep going until everyone responsible for that massacre was dust, or to die trying. That was all he was good for now.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he nodded curtly. “I won’t offer any condolences. For any of it. I think we both know I would be lying if I did.” Harsh, maybe, but honest. He liked to think they’d appreciate that more than a pretty lie. And they were being honest enough with him, too, admitting to ‘taking care’ of forgers and thieves around town. It wasn’t quite what Emilio did — he tended to focus more on violent criminals than thieves, though many like Henry fell into both categories — but he could understand it nonetheless. Art thieves were rarely people worth mourning. “Hope you’re usually more discreet about it than this,” he said, nodding to Henry’s corpse. There was something almost akin to a lilt in his tone. The undead rarely saw Emilio’s version of a joke unless he dealt it out with a heap of pain on top of it, but the fact that Metzli hadn’t come at him again meant he was a little closer to whatever kind of ‘at ease’ he could manage, these days.

“Yeah. I was after him for something like that.” He pulled out his phone, flipping clumsily through a few photos in his gallery before turning the screen around to display a photo of a young woman smiling at the camera. “Was looking into him for something else, and her name came up. They found her on a hiking trail in Florida. Didn’t have enough on him to send him away for it, but it was him. Probably came here to get away from it.” He pulled the phone back, locking it and sliding it back into his pocket. “Some things you shouldn’t be allowed to get away from.” He didn’t care much about the client Henry had swindled, though that had been what put him on the man’s trail. If it were only that, Emilio probably would have been a bit more angry about the corpse on the ground, upset that he’d have to find some way to give the client an update that would still allow him to be paid even when he couldn’t tell the client what became of the problem. But there were some things far more important than all that, and this was one of them. Henry got what was coming to him. Henry got off easy. Glancing back up to meet the vampire’s eyes, the hunter shrugged. “For now. Don’t know if I’ll stay.” It wasn’t entirely true. He’d set up a business for himself here, which meant he was staying for the foreseeable future. But he wasn’t in the habit of sharing that sort of thing with undead strangers, even if he’d decided that Metzli wasn’t the worst person around. It was always better to give away too little than too much.

Metzli grunted with amusement, not usually one to laugh. To do so, a person would have to feel free to do so. “I was feeling a little more fun than usual. The night was quiet enough for it.” Even with Eloy dead, liberation still didn’t feel real. There always seemed to be some sort of shadow looming just over Metzli’s shoulder, waiting to discipline. For them, that freedom came in cautious waves, leaving them anxious for hours, but painting smiles on those who motivated the sound to ring out. They knew freedom came at a cost, and in time, they��d pay less and less. As frustrating as that was. At least Emilio was funny without being overly so. Metzli wouldn’t know how to handle feeling free or at ease thanks to a slayer.

“You are not so bad.” Again, the vampire grunted. Emilio may not have made a joke, but the overt honesty was somehow humorous. A hunter showed a bit of kindness in not lying, a sort of respect toward a vampire. Metzli saw the irony in it, and then they smiled, genuinely. “You speak plain and your humor is dark. I do hope you stay in town if only for jobs like these.” They nudged their head toward Henry, “Human or…” Their hand gestured to themself, “Not. Species doesn’t really matter. Anyone can be worthy of death.”

With a sigh, Metzli looked at their watch and quirked a brow. It had been far longer than they thought, and now they were late to seeing Honey. She’d understand when they showed up with a body, but punctuality was something Metzli favored. “Hm…I must leave, unfortunately. Have to meet my friend. Do you think you could at least take care of the blood? Consider me owing you a favor. You seem like fun to work with anyway.”

It was strange, the fact that this vampire had the same idea as ‘fun’ as Emilio himself. Even now, part of him felt nauseous at the concept, stomach clenching in a way that reminded him of nights full of far too much whiskey without the pleasant numbness that preceded it. It wasn’t as bad as it would have been years ago, when his mother was alive and anything that might pass as rebellion filled him with a dread so heavy his lungs were crushed by the weight of it. Punishment in the Cortez household was always swift and brutal, but it was the disappointment Emilio had always feared more. He’d known, for a long time, that he wasn’t his mother’s favorite child. He’d never quite found a way to be okay with that.

He shook the thought off as best he could, coming back to himself in time for Metzli’s compliment to nearly send him spiraling right back down. Instead, he managed a quiet grunt that might have been some kind of affirmation. “Most people don’t like my jokes.” Juliana had, up until the point where that budding resentment between them meant she didn’t like much of anything Emilio had to say. Rosa had always laughed at them, but part of him wondered if some of that was just politeness. The only person who’d ever really thought Emilio was funny with any kind of consistency was Flora, and it was difficult to tell how much of that was just a child idolizing her father. “I tend to lean more towards the not. But… Humans can be just as bad. Worse, sometimes.” He still resented Lucio far more than he resented the vampires his uncle had sold them all out to, after all.

With a sigh, Emilio glanced down at the corpse. The blood spray wasn’t bad, but cleanup had never been his favorite part of the job. It was part of why he preferred to stick to vampires — they had the good manners to turn to dust when you stabbed them. Made cleanup a hell of a lot easier. But a bit of blood was far easier to get rid of than an entire corpse, so the compromise seemed like a fair one. Especially fair, when you factored in the favor Metzli promised they’d owe him. “I’ll be holding you to that. Go, get rid of this. Consider the blood taken care of.” If nothing else, he’d learned the best practices for cleaning up blood through years of dealing with his own staining his clothes and floor. “I’ll be seeing you, Metzli Bernal.” It was either a threat or a promise. Emilio wasn’t quite sure which.

#muertarte #metzli: dangerous things #wickedswriting #head trauma tw #s1 writing #season 1

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