#I have no one nearby to hang out with or invite anywhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sexy-monster-fucker · 5 months ago

Text

Lover’s Quarrel

Lee Russell x Reader

Summary: Reader is the third Vice Principal of North Jackson High. She often finds herself fighting with Lee Russell. Tension builds until it finally breaks.

CW: cussing because duh it’s Lee Russell, p in v, creampie, biting(?), Lee being a panty thief,

~~~

You sat alongside your two coworkers watching some of the kids practice for the pep rally. Neal Gamby and Lee Russell, your fellow Vice Principals. Only a few weeks back they had dragged you along for some harebrained scheme to get the new Principal, Dr. Belinda Brown, fired. Breaking into her home, resulting in Russell loosing it and burning her entire house down. You were in the thick of it with them now, no turning back.

Gamby and Lee argued back and forth about what the next plan was to ensure Belinda Brown was no more. You were halfway zoned out not much caring for their petty bickering.

“I can’t help both of you pussed out on me and ran,” Lee scoffed at Gamby. “You can’t be serious right now, what did you want us to go up in flames with the house?” Gamby rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Lee began talking through his teeth, “I’m talking about how we were gonna highjack her car too, Gamby! Could’ve burnt that shit down right in the school parking lot!”

“I think burning her new house down was far enough, Lee,” you finally chimed in.

“Yeah, dumbass. Don’t you think we would’ve been caught then?!” Gamby leaned in.

“She has kids, Lee. We’ve already made them homeless,” you sat up straight rolling your shoulders.

“You two are no fun!” Lee rolled his eyes, “Too invested in her personal life and shit. I don’t give a fuck about her! Neither should you, little miss sensitive.”

“That’s rich coming from someone with a detailed binder on every single faculty member in this building,” you stood up.

“Yeah!” Gamby pointed a finger in his face, “You’re the one who’s invested!”

“Shut the fuck up, Gamby,” Lee scrunched his face up at him. Lee’s eyes followed you as you walked down the bleachers.

“Where the fuck are you goin’, prissy pants?” Lee stood up behind you.

“Anywhere where I don’t have to hear your dumbass complain,” you turned around and threw your arms up.

“You always are the first one to back out on anything! Can’t even commit to a conversation with us,” Lee crossed his arms.

“Ooo a lovers quarrel,” Gamby teased.

“Shut Up, Gamby!” You both spoke together.

Lee began walking down the bleachers towards you. This just pissed you off worse.

It had almost always been like this with you and Lee. Small bickerings that were normally wrapped up with some flirting. All your coworkers constantly teased you both about fighting like an old married couple. Lee was different when you were alone. Staying late to help you with some paperwork that you could’ve done yourself, deeply complimenting you, always making an excuse to invite you into his office or himself into yours, lingering touches between you. Things had changed since Dr. Brown joined the faculty. Lee was sassier than ever. No longer willing to be any form of helpful, just hanging around throwing off-hand insults towards anyone and everyone. It had been growing old. You were sick of constant negativity pouring from him.

You headed down the stairs of the bleachers walking as fast as you could away from him.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lee rushed behind you, his hard steps echoing on the metal stairs. You ignored him, continuing forward. “I thought this was like our thing! Just some back and forth, what’s the big deal?” Lee scoffed.

“I’m not in the mood for this today, Lee,” you rolled your eyes refusing to look back at him. He was hot on your heals.

“What are you on your period or something?” Lee joked.

That was it. That sent you over the edge.

"Oh, sweet God, Lee! You're being a fucking asshole!" You stormed off into the nearby woods. The area in which old school supplies got dumped, also where Lee often took his smoke break.

"Me the asshole? You're the one actin' like a royal bitch right now!" Lee followed closely behind you.

That struck a nerve.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Lee stood before you, hands on his hips, mouth hanging awkwardly open and eyes wide. He stammered slightly shaking his head.

"Nothing," he threw his hands up doing a circle step.

"No- Go ahead, Russell. Since you want to be so brave, tell me what you said!"

"You're the one that called me an asshole," he mumbled.

"Because you are an asshole! That's all you've ever been and all you'll ever be! A self obsessed, egotistical asshole!" You grunted as you spun around, leaning your arm against a tree.

"Oh, now look whose name callin'!" Lee stomped.

"You act all sweet and friendly to the staff, then do everything in your power to stab them in the back. Laughing and jokin' at the lunch table, pretending to be one of them. Well you aren't! You're a fucking psychopath who loves to pull everyone down with him! You're a sicko with a power trip, Russell!"

Lee scoffed at you, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"FUCK YOU, LEE RUSSELL!" You got into his face pointing at him.

Lee cocked his head to the side. His hands found both sides of your face, crashing his lips into yours. You were stunned and extremely aroused. You sunk into the kiss full force, your body melting into Lee's grasp.

"You've got a dirty mouth on you, Ms. L/N," Lee flashed a toothy grin at you.

"You have no idea," you chuckled to yourself.

"Fuck, me. I like the sound of that," he pressed his lips back into yours, backing you into the tree you had leaned on prior. You exchanged spit as your tongues tussled, sloppy kissing being shared. Lee's lips found their way to your neck, biting and sucking at it. "Don't be fucking greedy," you breathed out.

"I'll do whatever I want," he kissed your skin, biting down a little harder than before. A small moan escaped you feeling his teeth dance along your skin. You wanted him badly.

Lee pulled you away from the tree, escorting you over to the mattress on the ground. A little gross, but you could not care right now. "Let's hurry things along a little, I've got an evaluation in an hour," Lee helped you onto the mattress, crawling on top of you. A prominent tent pitched in his tight khakis. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, dontcha Russell?"

"Oh, shut up," Lee kissed your lips. He ran a hand down your body, sliding under your skirt, finding your clothed core. His fingers began making circles against your sensitive nub. Your hips jolted forward at the sudden friction. Your eyes shot up to him. "Did you think I was gonna be the only one getting off here?" Lee looked at you with a cocky grin. You ran both hands up his body, tugging him down by his tie.

"Fuck me, Lee," you fluttered your eyes at him.

"Don't have to ask me twice, sweetheart," Lee began pulling himself from his pants. You shimmied your panties down your legs, cool air hit your soaking core. Lee's eyes stared up your skirt, mouth hanging open admiring your sex. Your eyes finally caught his fully erect cock, his hand grasped around it stroking himself. Your face flushed. Lee got in position, lining himself up with your opening. He eased himself in, the tip stretching you first. Lee’s eyes stared down at yours, lust written all over his face.

He continued easing his way inside you, giving you time to adjust to him. He found himself fully inside you, both of you breathing loud and heavy. He stayed for a moment not ready to begin moving. He gently pulled himself back before aggressively thrusting back into you. A moan fell from you.

"Ah, fuck. Has a pussy this good seriously being hidin' from me this whole time?" Lee threw his head back as he continued thrusting into you. His cocked stretched you just right.

"Should've bent you over my desk by now. Fucked you in the teacher's lounge. Hell, I'll fuck you on my future Principal's desk," Lee grinned ear to ear.

"You mean my future desk," you scowled at him.

"Whatever gets you to let me keep fucking you," Lee leaned his head against you. He squinted his eyes savoring the feeling of you around him. He had not been fucked in a longtime, let alone by someone as good as you.

Lee's hips rocked into you consistently quick, your head rested back on the mattress. He felt extremely good inside you, even if that mouth of his was not doing him any favors. He leaned down placing a wet kiss on your lips, his hand creeping down your body and finding your sensitivity again. His name was a soft moan on your lips. You felt your orgasm inching through your body his fingers working absolute magic on you. You were breathless.

“I wanna cum in you, okay?” Lee whispered in your ear. You nodded aggressively. You knew you would unwind any minute now. Lee’s hips grew sloppy and unrhythmic as he began chasing his high. Praises flowed from him as he threw his head back, his fingers finally sending you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him, a loud moan escaping you. Lee’s body fell flush with yours, his hips snapping into you. “Fuck, Y/N, you have the perfect pussy,” he moaned in your ear. Ropes of him shot inside you, his hips sputtering trying to get as deep inside you as possible. His lips pressed into yours hard. One of his hands cupped your cheek, Lee admired you, being tender with you for only a moment.

“Goddamn, Y/N! That was— Fuck, great,” Lee chuckled awkwardly trying to catch his breath. You ran your hand through Lee’s hair, his eyes softening for a moment. Lee pulled out of you hesitantly. Deep down he wished you could stay like this forever. He would never admit it publicly, but he really liked you. You both sighed. He rolled over to be on the mattress beside you.

You sat up, searching for your panties that had been discarded earlier. “Where’d my underwear go?”

Lee laughed. He patted his chest, “Don’t you worry about those, I’m sure you have plenty more at home.” Your whole body flushed with heat when you realized what he was saying.

“You’re seriously going to make me walk around the rest of the day with no underwear?” You half smiled at him.

“Goddamn right I am. Make sure every time you sit down you remember what happened out here,” Lee laughed, standing up and reaching his hand out to you. You took it, he pulled you to your feet. Your chest was flush against his, you looked up at him. You pressed a kiss to his lips quickly. You saw a slight pink hue rise on his cheeks. Lee’s hands were on your hips, heavy brown eyes staring into yours. A faint smile painted his face.

The bell rang in the distance.

Lee’s eyes shot up to the school behind you. “Uh— Guess we outta get back to work,” he placed a tiny peck on your cheek. You smiled as he walked ahead of you, one of his hands reaching behind him for yours. You intertwined fingers with him, getting a satisfied look over his shoulder. He led you out of the trees, the field that was previously full of loud cheering students was now empty. No one was outside. At least, that’s what you thought. Lee spun around, planting another kiss on your lips. A goofy grin painting his face.

“RUSSELL!”

You both jumped slightly hearing Neal Gamby’s voice echoing through the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Lee sighed as he turned around to face him.

“What the fuck were you guys doing out there? You know we have to monitor the halls during class changes! Plus you guys forced me to have ‘small talk’ with Bitch Brown!” Gamby folded his arms over his chest.

“No need to get your nutsack twisted, Gamby. We just needed to plan out our next attack,” Lee flicked him in the shoulder walking past him to the school.

“I’m supposed to be involved in all conversations about this!” Gamby protested.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, following closely behind Lee. Turning to make a face at Gamby as you headed inside.

“You guys suck,” Gamby mumbled as he hustled to catch up with you.

You and Lee walked side by side inside the building, occasionally bumping into each other. Exchanging small smiles back and forth. Continuously grazing hands, longing to interlock fingers again.

Save that for another time.

~~~

[END]

~ Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Lee Russell so I hope you enjoyed it! I am currently on Episode 6(?) of Vice Principals and am absolutely obsessed. I will be more than happy to write more for Lee Russell if anyone has requests! If you want to be tagged in my future work let me know! ~

[TAGS]

@megangovier ~ @lacey-mercylercy ~ @dichromaniac ~ @toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @justme12200 ~ @aliisa-jones ~ @one-of-thewalkingdead ~ @madladysix ~

#lee russell #lee russell x reader #vice principals #walton goggins #walton goggins x reader #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #hbo #Vice principals x reader

269 notes · View notes

giggly-squiggily · 1 month ago

Text

Prank and Chase (Demon Slayer)

Heyo! Happy Tickletober everyone! This is a bit of a fic trade with the amazing @gladdygirl18! Since she's offered me a day for this month, I wanted to do the same; thus bringing you this fic! :D It's inspired by the famous TenRen chase video! I hope you like it, friend! :D

CW: Swearing, food mention

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

Tengen couldn’t hear any of the words Sanemi or Obanai were saying. He didn’t care any longer.

All that mattered was the figure walking by in the distance.

“And I-WHOA!” Sanemi shouted in surprise when Tengen bolted, a flash of muscle that left no mess behind. The two hashira looked at each other with amused glances, gathering back up their snacks.

“Look at that.” Obanai gestured. “Dinner and a show.”

~~~

Rengoku hummed to himself a happy tune as he crossed the paths leading from the Master’s home. He had just finished up reporting- now it was time for something tasty and perhaps even a bath. Maybe he’d invite Tengen to the hot springs-

Something zoomed by, sending his Haori flying. His hearing might be damaged, but his sense of smell was stronger than ever. He’d recognized that cologne anywhere.

Tengen really needed to wear less.

“Tengen, my good-” Rengoku blinked, finding air. The smell remained, and now he could hear the faintest of giggles. He smiled, turning around to find-

“Tengen?” No one. Oh. He understood now. He laughed as he put his breathing technique to use, rapidly twisting and ducking to find him. Tengen evaded him like a ghost, his chuckles growing at each dodge. Rengoku paused for half a second.

“Gotcha- who!” Tengen yelped when Rengoku ducked beneath his legs, grabbing his waist from behind.

“Surprise-” But he was gone again! Rengoku twisted around before Tengen could get him, running in circles with the former-shinobi on his heels. “Come here, Kyojuro!”

“Never!” Rengoku laughed, leaping and ducking at each grab attempt. Suddenly, Tengen stumbled, taking a knee and holding his leg. “U-Uzui?”

“Oh! Oh my leg! My leg…” He groaned, the humor in his voice gone as he doubled over it. Rengoku was by his side immediately.

“Tengen, hang-” Suddenly he was on his back, the shinobi grinning down at him. “You tricked me!”

“A ninja uses every technique in the book, Kyo. Now…take THIS!” He cried, grabbing onto Rengoku’s sides. He squeezed rapidly, wiggling his fingers into the soft parts.

“AH!” The blonde barked out a yelp before dissolving into giggles, squirming beneath his friend as he laughed. “Nohohohoohohoho! Tehehehehngehhehehehn! Aheahahahhahaha- it tihihihihickles!”

“No, does it? I never would have guessed!”

In the distance, Sanemi and Obanai carried on eating their snacks, entertained by the sight.

“Get his hips, Uzui! That’ll make him scream!” Sanemi called out.

“No, drag it out first. Really make him suffer!” Obanai called after him. Sanemi raised a brow.

“Calm down, snake eyes- it’s tickling, not torture.”

“What’s the difference?” Obanai asked. Sanemi raised his Ohaji to that.

Then proceeded to drop it when Rengoku let out a loud scream.

“TEHEHEHHENGEHEHEHHEN PLEHAHAHAHHAHSE!” Rengoku cried as his hips were ruthlessly drilled into, Tengen’s boisterous laughter mixing with his own as he thrash and twisted in place.

“Does it tickle? Does it? Does it?” Tengen taunted in delight, relishing Rengoku’s peals of laughter. “I could do this all day- that’s how adorable you sound, Kyojuro~”

Rengoku’s hands shot up and grabbed his uniform, the veins bulging within. Tengen paused with a small “Uh oh-” before he was flipped, a mass of flash flying overhead like a ragdoll. Within a matter of seconds, he was struggling to get up from a nearby bush.

Sanemi cackled, clapping his hands at the sight while Obanai choked on his drink, snorting behind his mask. “Did you see the way he flew! Like a bird!” Sanemi wheezed.

“A big obnoxious one too.” Obanai scrunched his eyes with mirth, head tilting curiously when Tengen frantically stood up, slapping at himself. “What, you think he disturbed an ant hill?”

Suddenly, Rengoku was running, grabbing Tengen’s hand and fleeing the scene. It was only then they heard the buzzing.

“Shut the door, shut the door, shut the fucking door!” Sanemi yelled as Obanai ran for the handle, Tengen and Rengoku closing in at rapid succession.

“Don’t come over here, you son of a- AHH!”

~~~

“It’s amazing really; how you four can find the one wasp nest in the area.” Shinobu sighed as she looked at them; stung and pouting. “You’re lucky none of you are allergic.”

“Blame the human torch overthere; he’s the one that pissed it off.” Obanai grouched, scratching at the welts forming on his neck. Sanemi grumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, wincing when he touched the nasty sting on his hand.

“Worth it?” Tengen asked Rengoku, raising his brows despite the welts.

“Worth it.” Rengoku nodded, giggling. Before long, they were both laughing like kids, the overall ridiculousness of the situation spreading. Sanemi ducked his head to hide his grin while Obanai covered his face with both hands.

Shinobu shook her head with a small smile of her own as she grabbed the ointment. “Boys, I swear.”

Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #tickle #tickle fic #squiggily writes the things #tickletober #augtickletober2024 #tickletober2024 #tw: swearing #food mention #food #rengoku kyojuro #tengen uzui #obanai iguro #sanemi shinazugawa

71 notes · View notes

yourstarstruckbeloved · 1 month ago

Text

previous | how far can we go? — five | next

“why would you do that?” your voice quivers in anger, and you refuse to look at him as you unlock the door to your home. “let’s— let’s talk about this inside.”

kinich doesn’t find himself in a position to refuse your invitation, so he follows you in. he knows as well as you that this was going to have to get talked about seriously at some point, so he lets it happen.

the first time, kinich was on commission to keep you safe, and he carried it out. he was never intending to make you pay for it. this time? he just happened to be training nearby, and noticed your figure sitting at the clifftop. and no sooner than you had taken your place there, he saw the blue figure too, not so slick and hiding in a bush.

and truthfully, this isn’t like kinich. he knows it too. but he stopped his training anyway. you more than likely didn’t need his help— the space was wide open with many escape routes. but also, kinich witnessed what happened the first time around and didn’t think you’d be okay by yourself.

no... he’s just making excuses.

but! none of this takes away from the fact that kinich thinks an emotional outburst probably wouldn’t do much to an obsessive weirdo.

kinich speaks after much contemplation. “i saw you in probable danger, i felt like i had to intervene. but that’s mostly because i don’t think you would’ve gotten anywhere with screaming your head off at that guy.” there is not a hint of a lie in his words.

and what do you have to say to this? you can’t even fault him for wanting to look out for you, although you could never fathom why he’d want to look out for you. “i— it just makes me so angry that i can’t even go out anymore without having to worry about dealing with... you know!” you start, and kinich silently takes it all. he knows he’s not the one you’re mad at. and he understands more than anything.

until he sees a sudden glint in your eyes. “actually, you know what... maybe we should keep up the fake relationship act.”

“all this right after you get mad at me for whatever happened literally an hour ago?” kinich is dumbfounded. “well, i’m leaving.”

“no, wait! i will— i will cook you dinner every night if it means you’ll do this!”

“tempting, but no.”

“i… i really thought about what you said, and i won’t deny that i’m impulsive. i agree that nothing i was going to do that time would’ve put him off.” you’re almost hanging your head down in shame, and you don’t dare look into kinich’s eyes. “i’ll give you anything! let’s just keep at this… arrangement until i figure out how to deal with that creep?”

“i’m not sure you’ll even have any mora left to pay me but… let’s do this.”

taglist !

@yuriisclumsy @fandomfan-102 @jiminscarmex @keiiqq @blaxvoid @eunchaeluvr @just-simping-over-genshin

[please send me an ask or DM if you would like to be added ♡]

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #kinich #kinich x reader #kinich x you #fake dating

96 notes · View notes

xeeljii · 3 months ago

Note

PLEASE WRITE MOREEE

OH ANON I LOVE U <33333 this means the world to me!!!!

i have like 4 fics already written i just dont wanna spam the tag lol but here is a preview for the next one :>

WARNING! Explicit RPF!

CW: 18+, f! reader, friends with benefits situation, mentions of past sex, get together, soft angst but happy ending, fluff

EDIT: FULL FIC HERE!

You hear the water from the shower stop, you are probably not getting lucky tonight and that is okay, you just like having him near you, with the weather now he works as a personal heather. You haven’t really just slept together without sex as an excuse, not since the first time at least, and it makes you a little nervous. You think briefly about changing into nicer pajamas but he already saw the ones you are wearing so no point, you feel a rush of nervousness raise on your body. Before you get more anxious, he comes out of the shower hair leaving little droplets of water on your floor as he walks. White towel hanging low from his hips, you appreciate the softness of his belly, the happy trail that disappears under the towel, the way the hair there is darker than anywhere else in his body and even more noticeable when wet. You can’t help but scan all over his body, ogle at his chest, his soft pecs and the thin hair on them that looks white, his wide shoulders littered with freckles because he can’t be bothered to ever use sunscreen, he is so beautiful it hurts. Without the excuse of sex you feel shy looking and maybe like a little bit of a creep, you try to avert your gaze. If he notices the staring he says nothing about it and slowly walks towards you. You are holding a towel in your hands “Let me help you” You say raising your hands above his head, he stands right in front of you making you look up, you start gently moving your hands to dry his hair a little, he places his big hands on your hips and pulls you closer, wants to kiss you so bad but stops himself, he doesn’t want to get kicked out in the middle of the night when your unmade bed looks so delicious and inviting. You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze, his thumbs drawing circles in the exposed skin under your sleeping camisole, you want to make this last forever. “Done” You say almost in a whisper, you throw the towel on chair nearby. Almost on instinct you raise to your tip toes and kiss softly at his cheek, too late you realize what you just did, infinitely more intimate than what you should, you just look away quickly and clear your throat. “Lets get some sleep yeah?” You say turning around to hide your blushing face, you climb on the bed and raise the comforter, patting at the empty space beside you motioning for him to move. You make it so incredibly hard not to like you and he is such a weak man. He takes a few steps before reaching the edge of the bed, takes the towel off and throws it to the chair before climbing up behind you.

#joost klein x reader #sorry for using ur ask but i wanted to post the snipped and didn't know how to lol #i think ill post it tomorrow if the vibe is right <3

72 notes · View notes

blooming-violets · 8 months ago

Note

Hii! Can I request a Joel miller x fem!reader where Abby goes to golf town on reader instead of Joel and Joel is in Ellie’s position watching her get killed. Just utter angst💔🥲thank youuu❤️

An Eye For An Eye || Joel Miller x fem!Reader

A/N: I meant to do this from Joel's pov but somehow ended up in Reader's pov. Enjoy some death! (Also threw in a little Glenn from the Walking Dead winkwinknodnod in there, too)

Fire rained down on the infected as the people surrounding them tossed molotovs over the wrought iron gate.

The heat of the flames bathed over their skin to push the wintery chill from their bones.

Joel could feel your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, clinging protectively onto him, as he slowed their horse next to Tommy’s. When your grip didn’t loosen to climb down, he gave your hand a gentle pat of encouragement.

“I don’t like this,” you whispered in his ear. There were too many people. More than you were anticipating. Large groups of strangers were never a good sign.

His head tilted back towards you, his eyes closing peacefully at the feeling of your cold breath against his cheek, “You worry too much. We saved that woman’s life. It’s fine. We need a place to ride out the storm. Just behave yourself.”

You replied with a quiet laugh. Joel Miller was the king of worrying too much and the master of bad behavior. Who was he to tell you otherwise?

“You’ve gone soft, grandpa. I blame Ellie,” A kiss was placed to his gray peppered beard before you jumped off the horse. There wasn’t even that big of an age gap between you two but you were still fond of the nickname, simply because it made Joel groan every time he heard it.

Joel smiled, following you off the horse, “I blame you both. I only have this gray hair because of the shit you two put me through.”

The moment the garage doors closed to block off the incoming swell of snow flurries, a weight of dread settled in your stomach. You ran a mittened hand over the hind haunches of your horse to wipe away some of the snow in an attempt to help soothe your unease.

“Hey, I heard you guys saved Abby?” A short haired woman approached you with a warm, but hesitant, smile. “Thanks for bringing her back to us.”

You looked over and did your best to flash her a smile of your own. Trust had to be built somehow. You might as well try to start here.

“Oh, yeah. No problem.” You tugged off your mittens, stuffing them in your jacket pocket, and reached out your hand to shake.

“I’m Mel,” she spoke softly. “Nice to meet you.

You returned the greeting. She seemed nice enough. For now. First impressions meant nothing in this world. Everyone could act kind until they weren’t. You’d been fooled one too many times to take that sort of chance again. The moment she let go of the hand shake, she turned to Tommy to repeat her introductions. Your guard was on high alert, trying to take stock of anything you could use as makeshift weapons and plot the best hiding spots.

Joel slipped his arm around your waist. He could sense your worry and pressed his lips against the side of your head, smelling your hair, as he spoke.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled into your hair. “Tommy and I got this covered. We’ll hang out for the night. We can take turns staying awake so someone’s always on watch. Then we’ll be gone in the morning after the storm.”

“That sounds like some famous last words,” you grumbled.

The three of you were led into the room off of the garage. A large wooden bar sat against the wall and you took note of the half filled bottles of alcohol cluttering the surface.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad afterall,” you nodded to the drinks, giving Joel a cheeky wink.

He hid a smile by scratching at his beard and turning to the new people, “What are y’all doing out this way?”

A man with a baseball cap answered, “Oh, just passing through. You three live nearby?”

Tommy took that as an invitation to invite them back home to restock their gear. As if you wanted these people anywhere near your family.

It was clear neither party really trusted the other. There was a tension in the air as each individual tried to make sense of the other. Both parties were searching for hidden dangers. Your eyes sought out everyone, studying them, trying to find their strengths and weaknesses. It was Abby quietly conversing with another man in the corner that caused your heart rate to spike. You didn’t like the way they were whispering. From behind, you could tell her body language was tight, nervous. Your stare stayed trained on the pair as they whispered back and forth. Even as they stood quietly in the shadows, trying to appear relaxed, you could tell she was mulling over something in her head.

Your hand found Joel’s and you gave it a small squeeze. You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe we’re better off risking it in the snow? We can find some place to stay that’s not here.”

Before he could reply, Tommy was throwing around more introductions.

“I’m Tommy,” he announced to the group. He was too calm for your liking. Too friendly. Something was wrong. This wasn’t right. They had to leave. “This is my brother…Joel. And this is his partner-”

You couldn’t hear his introduction of you. You were too busy watching the change in Abby. The entire room fell silent. Her shoulders tensed. Her jaw tightened, flexing subtly as she ground her teeth together. Her back straightened up to attention and she shifted the shotgun in her hands.

You knew it the second Joel did.

This was bad.

“Y’all act like you’ve heard of us or somethin’,” he muttered, trying in a last ditch effort to soothe out the peace. His arm instinctively pushed you protectively behind him just as gun shot rang out.

“That’s because we have,” Abby said as the trigger was pulled.

You let out a scream of terror, watching Joel yell in pain, his leg shooting out from under him, and tumbling to the ground.

“Joel!” You collapsed down to his side, throwing your body protectively over his head to block him from any more bullets.

“No!” Tommy shouted.

Two men were on him before he could even move. They pinned his arms down, throwing him back against the bar, and struggled to hold him steady while he thrashed wildly against them. You couldn’t help him. You refused to leave Joel. All you could do was watch in horror as Tommy was bashed repeatedly in the top of the head with the grip of a pistol until he went limp. You had no idea if he was dead or knocked out. Thick lines of blood trailed out from under his hairline and waterfalled down his vacant face.

You reached for the knife hidden in your back pocket. The second someone grabbed your arms, you slashed out, making contact with someone’s cheek.

But there were too many of them and so little of you.

The knife was wrestled out of your grasp. You were being dragged away from Joel with two men clamping down tightly to your arms and throwing you up against a window. The back of your head bounded against the glass pane causing a shooting pain to ricochet through your brain.

“No!” You could hear Joel cry, his voice deep with worry. “Get off her! Don’t fucking touch her!”

He struggled to get up but his leg was useless under him. Blood spurted from his thigh and soaked into his tattered jeans. He tried to take down the person closest to him but all it took was a bullet whizzing by your left ear, instantly deafening that ear, and shattering through the window behind your head for him to stop.

The howling wind burst through the broken, jagged hole to swirl snow around the room. The cold caught in your lungs, mixing with your panic, to make it difficult to breathe. You gasped for air, eyes watering, as you stared helplessly back at Joel. The look of anguish you found staring back at you was enough to break your heart. He knew you had been right. He knew he should have listened. They couldn’t trust these people. He knew.

But it was too late.

It took two men to pin his arms up against the back wall as if they were about to crucify him. His ragged, angry breaths filled the room to meld together with the howling wind.

“Don’t hurt her,” he panted out with a hiss of pain. “Don’t hurt her. Me. Hurt me. Not her.”

It was hard to hear him. You reached your hand up to cup over your left ear where the bullet had shot past. You could feel the stickiness of blood leaking from your burst eardrum. Subtly, you tilted your right ear towards him so you could better understand what they were saying.

Abby had leaned down in front of him. She was breathing nearly as heavily as he was. Fury etched into her every crease and a burning hatred scalded Joel in her sights.

“Joel Miller,” she whispered. Not asking. Not confirming. A statement.

“Who are you?” He shot back.

“Guess.”

Your eyes slipped close with dread. You knew Joel had no idea who this woman was. Joel’s past was filled with all colors of evil. She could have been anyone. It didn’t matter who she was or what Joel had done to her. Everything he’s ever done to survive, every horror, every act of ruthless murder would be flashing before his eyes right this very moment. He could pick any one out at random and it would be enough for someone to want revenge. He didn’t care who she was. She had her reasons and she was probably right for wanting his life. His past was bound to catch up to him eventually. He was just sad you had to be here to bear witness to his end.

The resignation you saw settle slowly onto his face was enough to push the tears stifled in your eyes down your cheeks.

“Why don’t you say whatever speech you got rehearsed and get this over with,” he spat out at her with a scowl. “I’m the one you want. Neither of them ever did anything to you. They’re innocent and deserve to live. Kill me and be done with it.”

“No!” You cried, begging them for his life. “No! Please. Please. I need him. Please. Don’t do this.”

Joel turned to your cries and gave you a half hearted smile. If they killed him, the one they were clearly looking for, then there was a chance that you could go free. If there was a chance to save you, he would take it. Always.

Abby took notice of the look on his face when he stared back at you. She turned between the two of you and a dark smile grew across her face. She stood up, walking from Joel over to you.

The move was all it took for Joel’s panic to immediately kick in, “Wait, stop! Leave her out of this! I’m the one you want!”

Abby grabbed a fistful of your hair and jerked your head back to expose your neck. She leered back at Joel, “Do you love her?”

He tried to lunge forward to reach them but was held back by the men. The blood loss from his leg was making him weak. You could see the color paling from his face. His eyes were turning bloodshot.

“Leave her alone!” He shouted, his voice coming out like a pained roar. “She didn’t do anything to you!”

Abby tossed your head back and walked over to the bag of golf clubs at your side. You watched her browse through each one before pulling out the one she wanted. She held it up to the light from the broken window to admire the view.

“I said,” she whispered, the sound deadly. “Do you love her?”

A scream of rage ripped out from Joel’s throat, “Yes! Fuckin’ dammit, yes! I love her!”

A look of sorrow flashed across Abby’s face like she wasn’t entirely sure this was the plan she originally wanted to go through with. She down at you with regret, “Then I’m sorry to do this. It’s not your fault. But revenge is revenge. An eye for eye, if you will.”

You swallowed, eyes widening as you stared at the end of the golf club, realizing exactly what was about to happen but being useless to stop it.

You were not going to leave this cabin alive.

“Joel Miller killed someone I loved,” she sighed. “I am going to kill someone he loves.”

“No!” Joel screamed. From behind Abby, you could see him thrashing violently against the men. He caught one of their hands in his mouth and bit down as hard as he could, mauling his head to the side with a jerk, as the sound of snapping bones echoed through the freezing air. The man shouted in pain as his finger was nearly ripped straight from his hand thanks to the death grip Joel had with his teeth.

Another gun shot rang out to silence everyone. This time it flew over Joel’s head and the bullet lodged into the back wall.

“Enough!” Abby shouted. “Hold him down, dammit.”

“Then hurry up and get this over with!” The man standing at your shoulder yelled back. “Before he bites off more of Jordan’s fucking fingers.”

The sound of your cracking skull was all you could hear as the club came straight down to make perfect contact with the top of your head. You hadn’t even seen her lift it over her to strike. You had been too busy trying to keep Joel in your sights.

You slumped forward, falling onto your knees and holding yourself up with your arms.

“Joel,” You mumbled through the delirium setting in. Your brain was rattled. Hot blood washed away your blurring vision until all you could see was red. “Joel…stay…me…with me…stay…”

Wack.

Crunch.

Wack.

Splash.

Your breath strained in heaving, gasping wails as your brain function rapidly declined. Blood showered down around you, seemingly falling from the sky like rain drops on a dreary evening. It reminded you of the way rain clings to the leaves to roll down their waxy surface and drip in warm drops down onto your forehead. A pleasant, familiar feeling. If you looked skywards, you wouldn’t see a ceiling, but a forest canopy of wet, green leaves.

Your arms shook under your weight to hold you up and pushed you back into a kneeling position. Your body swayed on unsteady legs, unable to focus on any one particular part of the room. The socket of your eye had been shattered. Your eye bulged in your head and hung loosely out of your skull.

You remembered the first time you found Joel. Over a decade ago. Smuggling supplies back and forth into the Boston quarantine zone. He had hated you. Thought you were annoying and never shut up. You’d pester him with a million questions, desperate to learn all his survival techniques. Somehow he never managed to shake you from his gasp. At some point along the way, you had weaseled your way into his hardened exterior and made a home inside his heart. He could complain all he wanted. He enjoyed your company.

Crack.

Your body gave out. You slumped onto your side.

From this position you could make out the hazy vision of Joel through your one working eye. There were tears streaming down his face. You’d never really seen him cry before. Not like this. His mouth hung open in a scream but you could no longer hear what was being said. You didn’t need to hear to know he was wailing out in agony for you. This was the kind of torture being inflicted on him that was meant to destroy his soul. This was worse than his own death. This was going to break him.

Oh, Joel.

He was on his stomach, arm outstretched, desperately trying to reach you.

You remembered the late nights of sitting around a campfire, with a cup of stale, weak coffee shared between you two, out in the woods. Joel always hated campfires at night. They were dangerous, easy to be seen, but you had convinced him to give it a try just this once. Just long enough to heat up your coffee. The coffee had tasted watery and bitter but his lips tasted sweet and soft. The risk of the fire was worth watching the way the warm orange glow danced across his skin.

Your fingers twitched out to reach for him.

If only you could touch him.

One last time.

You stretched your arm as far as you could.

Crack.

You were reaching blindly. Both your eyes are gone now. No sounds. No sights. No pain. Only Joel.

In the darkness, you reached for him.

His calloused tipped fingers brushed across your bloody hand. He was only close enough for your fingertips to reach but they laced together the best you were able.

A smile flashed onto your dying lips.

Crack.

You didn’t need to see him to know him.

His face exploded behind your blinded vision to greet you in the dark. Always sweaty and covered in dirt. Salt and peppered hair. Eyebrows tugged low in a permanent frown. The slope of his strong nose. Pouted lips peeking out from under his unkempt beard. The frown lines etched into his forehead that would soften whenever he caught sight of you. The warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around your body to keep you safe from the chilly nights.

His quiet whispers of “I love you” spoke into your ear when he thought you were sleeping.

He hardly ever said those words out loud to you when you were awake but he never had to. You could see his love through his every action.

Even now.

His last act of love he could ever give you was to fight against his restraints and reach far enough for his fingers to graze yours. So you knew you weren’t alone. So he could keep as safe as he was physically able to.

So he could touch you one last time.

I love you, Joel Miller.

Crack.

This was fun a little side step away from my usual beloved Andrew Garfield muse. I don't think I'll write for Joel much in the future. Not because I don't adore him but because I just write for a different fandom and struggle to do both at the same time. But I enjoyed a little peek into some Joel angst for my Sunday afternoon.

#the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #the last of us spoilers #the last of us fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #tlou #joel tlou

92 notes · View notes

pynkgothicka · 1 year ago

Text

ＴｅａｒＹｏｕＡｐａｒｔＪＨＳ＆ＭＹＧ

Synopsis - While out clubbing you meet two very friendly strangers. (Part 5 of the Monster Series)

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Vampire! Min Yoongi & Jung Hoseok x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - Issa Rae and Hunter Schafer

Tags and Warnings - Death, Hypnosis, Vampire stuff, abduction

Authors Note - One more fic in the series!!!

“This club fucking sucks!!” Issa yelled over the sound the loud club music. So far the night was filled with bad shots, creepy men, and all around bad music. And you agreed, this club was literally the last place you wanted to be.

Hunter stood next to you on her phone looking for literally anywhere else to go. She let out a loud gasp and stuffed her phone between both you and Issa. “Guys! There's that new club downtown! It looks like it's gothic themed! Certainly they know how to party.” Issa raised a brow at the suggestion.

“Girl, we aren't goths.” Issa says simply.

“Yeah she's right, literally we'll stick out like a sore thumb.” You added.

“Attention! Duh. Listen we can stay here and get harassed by jocks or we meet some new people at the new vampire goth club. Which will it be?” Hunter said raising both hands. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“So your saying that instead of bringing home douche bags we bring home goths?” Issac said her eyes seemingly thinking. “Checks out with me, how about you girl?”

You looked at Issa and rolled your eyes jokingly. “Fine, let's go!”

🦇

“Shit this place rocks!” Hunter said. You all went back to your shared apartment to at change into more darker clothes and makeup. Yet you all still stuck out like sore thumbs.

Yet this worked as Issa had already found some guy who interested her and you and Hunter danced with a group of girls. Bauhaus echoed in the background as you moved across the floor practically drifting aimlessly. However you would make eye contact with two men who stood on the wall watching you. Their gazes were sharp, but you brushed it off and kept dancing.

Hunter tapped your shoulder and you turned around. “Hey can you go get us some drinks?” She said dancing with you. Giving her a small smile, you nodded and headed to the red lit bar. You order two Bloody Marys, which you found somewhat hilarious to be served. You stood at the bar waiting patiently but were startled by a hand on your shoulder.

“You've never been to a goth club I bet.” One of them said smirking.

“Jesus! You both scared the shit out of me.” You said trying to catch your breath. The one with darker hair laughed and smiled.

“Sorry! We just got curious, your fashion is just not what you'd see here usually.” He continued. His friend kept looking at you, blinking rarely. You looked back at him but then returned to speaking with the main friend.

“And how do you know that huh? I could frequent these clubs a lot.”

“You don't trust me. You have that lost look in your eyes. Shit I forgot to introduce myself I'm Hoseok. And he's Yoongi.” You took Hoseoks hand, but shuddered at how cold his skin was. You pulled away laughing awkwardly. It almost drained you, touching him.

Then the drinks you were supposed to give Hunter slid in front of you. Taking them you almost nodded them both off but were stopped by Yoongi stepping in front of you.

“Aw you're leaving? Before you got one of our numbers?” Yoongi said snickering, surprising you that he would even speak to you. He took a sharpie from a nearby jar and wrote his number on your arm. “You should invite us over when you're not the ‘sober companion’” He added snickering. You didn't tell him that at all so you just nodded and stepped away.

You were going to clean that sharpie off your arm immediately.

🦇

Turns out that soon would arrive quicker than expected, as not even a week later you walked into your apartment to see Yoongi, Hoseok, Issa, and Hunter hanging out in the living room. The girls seemed intoxicated or in a daze as they were glad naked and dancing in front of them.

You stepped back and turned around walking out of the door and trying to close it quietly. You'd just return tomorrow, it wasn't your place to question the beginning of what was happening. Letting out a sigh you began to almost walk away.

That was until you were yanked into the house the door locking behind you.

“Hey!!” Hunter drunkenly yelled hiccuping as she grabbed both of your arms harshly. Shed never been this strong, in fact she was quiet weak compared to you. “Come on now the party was missing you!” She slurred practically dragging you to the living room. Her eyes had a weird cloudy look to them. You couldn't get a good look as she pushed you onto the couch in between the men.

Almost immediately Yoongis hand went to your thigh. You shivered but didn't move as Hunter and Issa drunkenly collapsed on the love seat. With a snap of Hoseoks fingers, they became sleepier and drowsier. Until they were both asleep. “Let us go!” You yelled struggling against Yoongis harsh grip on your thigh.

“You don't want that do you? You never texted us you know… broke poor Yoongis heart.” Hoseok spoke to you in a babyish voice. Yoongis head fell on your shoulder, him almost purring at your warm skin on his own cold one. “It's almost a rightful punishment, eye for a eye.”

“What even are you guys…?” You questioned but got your answer as you felt two sharp spikes poke at your neck. You tried to push away but Hoseok grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. Your body fell in a trance as the pain of Yoongis fangs entering your body was dull and almost non existent.

Hoseok connected your lips, passionately kissing you. His fangs grazed your bottom lip, giving quiet moans into your mouth. “We thought you were so beautiful… and the fact that you're also a virgin… that made you even sexier.” Yoongi mumbled against your neck. He sucked at your skin peppering kisses on the bite. He licked it and pulled away. “She's so fucking good. Virgin blood, it's always so good… Come get a taste.”

Hoseok pulled away from your mouth as he went to your chest, taking a bite at your collarbone. Hoseok began to suck, this time the pain hurting. You hissed feeling your life almost drain away. Your eyes stared at your friends, seeing as they've already been drained. Bite marks littered their bodies and yet you couldn't even do anything about it as you're now their victims. Yoongi took Hoseoks arm and pulled at it making Hoseok pull away. “Don't kill her, I want to keep her…” Yoongi mumbled his body now falling on your thighs, kissing at them. The horror of your blood, turning into kiss marks on your body terrified you.

“I wasn't going to I swear. I just got lost in it all… sorry.” Hoseok said quietly. “So we're bringing her back right?” Yoongi nodded eagerly. And Hoseok kissed your lips again, as he snapped your body going limp. Your vision clouded as you laid against Hoseoks body. His hand went to your hair, stroking fondly.

“What about them?” Yoongi says pointing at Hunter and Issa. Hoseok shrugged and kept his focus on comforting you, yet you couldn't even see what was happening. But you began to cry, silently your lips trembling. Hands went to wipe your tears by what you could assume was Hoseok. You didn't even hear nor see your friends fate by you did feel Yoongi come near you again. “It's okay, we got you… we'll take care of you baby… we just have to tear you apart and rebuild you.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @fangirl-death-rose @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops

136 notes · View notes

inkyquince · 1 year ago

Text

Well I got TWO whole thoughts in my head. Someone ask about them so I can go crazy.

1. Dilfs (or dilf inflicted by I, inkuquince the 1st of their name) going to the brothel. Going anywhere. Just to get their urges out before they do something they shouldn't.

Content warning. Incest but it's mainly thought about. Implied noncon. Very bad dads. Mention of murder but it's Eden, cmon.

Characters. Leighton, Sirris, Briar, Doren, Eden.

For Leighton it isn't strange, yknow, hes seen there a lot. But this time, he asks for a very specific whore. Forbids them to speak when they try to ask what he wants. Just to call him daddy. Fucked from the back so he can enjoy the superficial similarities between them and his kid. They get paid extra when he groans out your name as he cums.

Sirris noticing that one of the students in his class looks like you. Finds it really cute. Cuter when you two befriend each other. You invite them around for a sleepover and they wander to his photography room when you're asleep. Purring that he's been such a nice teacher, works so hard for his two kids. His camera is left running as they sink down on his cock, but he makes sure it captures their body, not their face. Just so he can breathlessly massage his cock and imagine it's you.

Briar getting one of his workers to come into his office on a break. Has your underwear hanging from his finger. They know the drill. Squeal out for their daddy to fuck them as he takes them from behind, as they wear your underwear, gently tugged to the side. Bonus points if it's Briar had gotten one of his workers pregnant with you years ago, and he still knows where she lives. Refuses to employ her and doesn't let her see you. Pays her a lot to fuck off and keep her mouth shut. Pays her more to get on her hands and knees, wear your underwear and take it. She looks like you. His pretty baby. She knows what's he's thinking of. Fucks her in the ass, especially if you're amab.

Doreen feeling dirty. Was just at the beach, enjoying his time with you, even cheerfully letting you sit on his shoulders while he wades into the water, feeling your crotch against the back of his neck. You went to go get some lemonade your little friend was selling nearby when he sees them. They look kinda similar to you. Skin, ass, hair. Legs. He really likes your legs. He knows what usually happens on this beach. So do they. They smile coyly and gesture for him to come closer. He can just... Quickly relieve himself using their thighs. Be quick, eyes trained on their legs and think of you, in their place. He should feel more guilty, but he can't.

Eden knowing he's your father, but your mother ran away from him when you were young. But he knows. Kept track of you. And you're so perfect. First he'd want to take you back to his cabin, teach you everything he knows and keep you safe from the town. Blow your mother's brains out if she took you again. But you look... Just enough like his old love... He can't help it. Breaks in while you sleep, just to collect some of your underwear. Would have taken you too. He heads back home. Maybe sees a wolf person, with faint similarities to you. Might just hold that poor pup down to roughly fuck them full. Doesn't take them home though. No, that collar is for his own little cub.

#dol #nsft #quincewrites #doren the english teacher #leighton the headteacher #briar the brothel owner #eden the hunter #sirris the science teacher #degrees of lewdity

274 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 1 year ago

Note

I have came far and wide dear maiden to ask you …PLEASE , PLEASE YANDERE PAULIE!! I’m fine with platonic or romantic I just need more content for this man he’s a rare gem 🥰😍

I feel like he be the type to use rope to keep his darling safe and captured but if reader ever wants to escape just show some skin and watch him fumble XD

I've got lots of Paulie requests, so here's a short drabble about that one specific idea. Hope you like it!

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Yandere Paulie x Fem!Reader

.7k words

Tonight was supposed to be a cute little night in with your boyfriend, that’s it. Paulie had invited you over for dinner and to just hang out afterwards, so imagine your shock when you get there only to see all the windows nailed shut and an obscene number of locks on the door.

Lucky for you, he’d made one massive oversight and forgot about the bathroom window. You’re not sure if he actually forgot, or if he’d just assumed it wasn’t big enough for you to escape through. Regardless of the reason, you were able to squeeze yourself out of it and were currently sprinting away from his home.

“(Y/N)! Get back here, this is for your own good!” You cursed under your breath as you heard his boots running right for you.

You try to turn the corner and get out of his direct line of sight, but are brought to a halt by a rope wrapping itself around your arm and tightening. The sudden loss of momentum nearly bowls you over, but you manage to catch yourself.

“Please just calm down, we can talk this out,” Paulie huffs out between breaths. The hand that isn’t clutching onto the rope attached to you is held out as if he’s trying to placate a scared animal.

“Talk this out?! Are you insane?! You tried to kidnap me!” You spat at him.

“I did not! Don’t think of it like that! I was just- just- I was relocating you. Permanently,” his voice teetered off towards the end in what you hoped was realization. He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, let’s go back home and we can talk more there.”

Nope, Nevermind. He’s actually unhinged.

“NO! Get away from me, you freak,” you screamed, desperately trying to get the rope unfastened from your arm.

“Would you keep it down?! People are going to think I’m hurting you!” Paulie hissed. He was pulling on the rope to drag you closer and was only a few steps away now. If you didn’t do something quick, he was going to take you away again, and you don’t think you’ll be able to escape as easily this time around.

In a fit of desperation, an idea came to you. An awful, terrible idea, but one that just might work. You stopped pulling away, and instead faced him fully. Your abrupt lack of resistance gave Paulie pause, and he eyed you warily, not sure what to make of this quite yet.

Your hand found purchase on the front of your button up blouse. You clutched the shirt tightly, then violently ripped it open sending buttons flying everywhere.

Paulie’s confused face turned bright red and his arms rose up to shield his eyes from the scandalous view, “What do you think you’re doing, you harlot! See! This is why I’m doing this! The world is corrupting you!”

While he’s screeching about your “indecency”, you’re able to slip the rope off and hand it to a yagara tied to a nearby dock. You free it and tell the animal to leave. Understanding the assignment, the yagara nods, takes the rope into its mouth, and takes off down the canal.

Paulie is immediately yanked into the water and is flailing and splashing as the yagara drags him away from you. You can hear him yelling for you to not leave, but you of course don’t listen and keep running now that you’ve gotten him off your tail for the time being.

There’s only one place you can think of that you can go. The train station. Nowhere else will truly be safe. Not only is Paulie well respected in Water 7, he has friends in very high places. If he decides to pull some strings, there won’t be anywhere you can go within the city where someone will be willing or able to help you.

The last train of the day should be leaving soon. If you can get on and it leaves before Paulie catches up, then you’ll be in the clear for the time being.

And if worse comes to worst, you suppose you can try and kill him by flipping up your skirt if you see him again.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #yandere #paulie #paulie one piece

203 notes · View notes

grunkle-no-more-colombian-nights · 18 days ago

Text

No More Colombian Nights - XVI

The afternoon had begun to bleed into early evening as Honey waited on the back porch of the Pine's abode with Wendy a few steps behind. The two sets of twins had only been here about a couple weeks, and she had spent almost half of that in their home, something not lost on her as she knocked on the door. Mable had invited her to a spa sleepover night for all the girls, and although she hadn't intended to say yes, Wendy had somehow pushed her decision. Now she stood nervously with her bag, a pillow, and a blanket, dressed in some sweatpants and a tank top, as Mable popped open the door to the two. Her face lit up as she welcomed the two into the house, stepping aside to reveal Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica were already waiting for them.

"Welcome, ladies, to our sleep over night!" She smiled widely as she presented the room with a grand sweeping gesture. Pacifica looked uncomfortable as Grenda grilled her on her skin routine, Candy messing with the TV as the static crackled loudly through the room. Snacks and soda were piled on the table in the kitchen, but none of the boys were anywhere to be seen. She smirked, knowing Stan was probably hovering nearby but had most likely not been permitted to hang around the sleepover. Wendy plopped onto the yellow chair after grabbing a pitt soda, cracking it open, and taking a deep swig before letting out a room-shaking belch. All the kids but Pacifica gave an excited whoop, laughing loudly as Candy managed to get on some b-list horror movie.

"Movie's on! Now time for beauty masks!" Candy yelled as Mable brought out a big bowl of some sort of green goop and cut up cucumber on a plate.

“Ew! You expect me to put that on my face?” Pacifica cried, looking pained as Candy started to slather Grenda’s face in the mystery substance. Wendy also made a face but allowed Mable to take her hat off and pull her hair back, ready to be covered in the same way. Honey allowed the same, pulling back her own mass of hair into a scrunchie as she leaned down to let Mable slather her own face liberally. It was cold, thick, and gritty as she spread it under her eyes and over her forehead, making her grimace.

“Mable, what is this made of?” Honey asked apprehensively as it settled on her skin. Something about the texture was odd.

“Oh, avocado, some banana, yogurt, sand from the lake, some of the seaweed stuff that ends up on the beach there..." Mable tapped her chin as she thought about all the ingredients she had placed into the homemade goop.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not going to put that on my face.” Pacifica intoned flatly, refusing Grenda’s attempt to cover her face.

“That’s ok, you just won’t match the complexions of us beautiful ladies,” Candy warned, batting her eyes at the unamused girl.

“I think I’ll manage." She sneered slightly as Mable began to try and smooth it over. It was clear Pacifica was not a normal participant in these events Mable held. She had to agree with Pacifica to some degree though, and if it weren’t for the fact that she spent so much time in that water already, she would probably not want to have it on her face either. She knew too much about what was in that water and on that beach.

“Soooo ladies, I was thinking we play a game!” Mable grinned, her own green face caked in her homemade mask. Honey listened intently as the green faces, minus one, gathered close together to receive instruction. “We’re gonna start with never have I ever. Everyone starts with all ten fingers up, like this.” She demonstrated, holding both hands up in front of her, all ten fingers pointed up to the ceiling. All the girls followed suit, holding up their hands in front of them in a circle. Wendy and Honey smirked at each other, knowing they would probably be out quickly, having years and decades on the rest of the group. Nonetheless, it was still fun to be included by this imaginative young teen. Mable was so precocious and welcoming, it was hard not to be up for whatever she had planned. Grenda was the first to speak up.

“I’ll start! Never have I ever skinny dipped.” Candy and Mable gasped, keeping their fingers up, Pacifica rolling her eyes but also keeping her finger up. Wendy and Honey’s eyes locked uncomfortably as they both lowered a finger. This was unexpected. The three girls squealed simultaneously, Pacifica not quite as vocally shocked, but her eyes widened as the two older began to wonder if they should be participating or supervising at this point.

“Not fair, dudes; we’re both older. We’re gonna lose like, right away.” Wendy was trying to dissuade from the conversation that was clearly about to happen.

“Dish girl, when have you been skinny-dipping?” Grenda pushed, Honey snickering at her cousin being so put on the spot. She felt well acquainted with Wendy’s troublemaking spirit, feeding her tips on her ongoing mischief. Honey had spent more than her fair share of using those tips to survive decades. It felt like a duty to pass those same things on to her own blood. Wendy was the only other surviving female of her family, and although she wasn’t born of the water, she still craved the connection, no matter how distant. It had been kindred from the start, and even though age well separated them, trouble clearly ran deep in their genes.

“Kids, let’s go to the next question.” Honey chided gently, attempting to move it to a more appropriate discussion. She could see the silent thank you in Wendy’s eyes as Pacifica picked it up from there.

“I’ll go. Never have I ever rode on a public bus.” All the girls groaned at the spoiled girl, putting down a finger.

“Never?” Candy asked, genuinely intrigued by Pacifica’s wildly different life. Honey watched as the three tried to integrate this one who seemed to be nothing but mean to them, tiny good hearts trying to warm to one who had hers shielded deeply. It was sweet to watch as they tried to bridge the gap the last summer had left between all of them. A low humming noise began to distract her, buzzing consistently in her ear in a way that was near disorienting. Honey stood, deciding to move to the kitchen for a moment to try and collect herself from the sudden disruption. No one else seemed affected as Honey’s head began to swim, her mouth going dry. She took a deep breath, supporting herself against the wall as Wendy rounded the corner. Her eyes instantly read with concern at her cousin's shaky state.

“Hey dude, are you ok?” Wendy was by her side, patting her gently on the back as the buzzing cut suddenly, clarity returning to her as she regained composure.

“Yeah, thanks, hun. I think I need to go get some fresh air quick. Just keep the kids entertained. I’ll be back shortly.” Wendy was sensitive to all sickness, something she heavily suspected had to do with the trauma of her mom. Honey’s heart hurt to see the kind of heaviness that sat behind her cousin's eyes. She too had known grief too young. Losing a mother in front of you was a different kind of loss they both sat quietly with.

“You sure? I can come out with you. Honey cut her off gently.

“No, hang out with them for a bit. I’ll be right back. I promise.” She smiled reassuringly at her, trying to assuage any concerns Wendy held. It seemed to work as Wendy smiled gently back, getting a little smirk as Honey started to move to the opposite door of the shack.

“Hey, don’t ditch me for that old guy!” She called over her shoulder, half joking. Honey rolled her eyes, knowing he probably would have already intruded normally. Something was going on; he rarely respected anyone’s wishes. Which probably meant he had a hand in whatever outcome he was looking for in her being involved in a sleepover with kids. But she doubted he had anything to do with the subsonic waves that just assaulted her sensitive hearing. She took another deep breath, steeling herself to destroy whatever or whoever was targeting her outside.

Closing the door quietly behind her, Honey took a deep breath of the mild night, crickets and frogs making a racket in the woods around her. Some rustling caught her attention, drawing her around the house. Slinking in the shadows of the shack, the rustling got louder, making it easier to pin point. Someone was hiding in the bushes near the back porch they had entered not even an hour earlier. Anger flared through her, ready to fight whatever agent had dared to follow her here to this home. She launched herself at the noise, making full body contact with a man as they both met the ground. A familiar voice grunted loudly as she grappled a bulky form in a black turtleneck and full-body jacket.

“Ford?” Honey gasped, quick to release him, all of her senses firing as his familiar scent flooded her, his unfamiliar body not recognized as she had made contact with him. Although he and his brother could easily pass for each other to an untrained eye, her instinctual memorization of people and her familiarity with Stan made it impossible to not know who was who. “What the hell are you doing?” She panted, the adrenaline escaping her as she watched him pick himself up and dust himself off. He jumped slightly when he saw her, her completely green face a shock, she was sure.

"Just taking some readings of the surrounding area.” Ford offered as an answer. She eyeballed the strange-looking device she had knocked out of his grip as she took him down to the ground.

“What are subsonic readings going to tell you about your house?” Honey asked, mild distress tinging her voice. She couldn’t take it all night. It was like a literal dog whistle, shaking every thing she had in her, like an eggbeater to the brain.

“I’m surprised you’re familiar with the technology.” He stated with incredulity. It felt like a jab. Defiant to his doubt, she crossed her arms across her chest, feeling heat meet her covered face. Pursing her lips slightly, her cordial attitude dropped, not entertained with his perceived condescending tone.

“Do you think everyone else but you is stupid? I’m genuinely curious.” It had a little more venom than she intended, leaving him sputtering as he responded.

“No! That is not what I meant.” He locked eyes with her, and although he was definitely bigger than her, she was not one to back down. This took her off guard though, expecting his condescension came from her appearance and nothing else. He continued, trying to smooth over her ruffled feathers. “I just meant, I don’t expect most people to eye one of my inventions and be able to name it so efficiently.” She tried to play it cool, knowing she had slipped up. He was right though—what normal person could name a subsonic radar, especially a homemade version at that? She chewed her lip as she decided the best way to respond.

“You know, we can just have normal conversations if you want. I will just answer whatever questions you have about me.”

“How do you know so much about the sciences I have been researching for the last year? You seem too young to have such a wide array of background knowledge for this specialized study.” Ford cocked an eyebrow at her, his arms crossed defensively as he leveled with her.

“Same as you, I suspect, voracious for knowledge.” She lied, attempting to relate and calm his clearly growing suspicions of her. “I’m an avid anomaly hunter.” Another lie. She just happened to talk to them often, being one herself. His eyes widened a bit.

“I knew you were trying to get into my research!” He accused, pointing at her with triumph and accusation. Out of what seemed like nowhere, Dipper also appeared, near reenacting his great uncle's gesture as he stumbled into the situation.

“That’s why you’re so interested in my other Grunkle! You’re trying to snag family secrets!” Honey grimaced at that implication.

“I just like Stan. I have no interest in your research.” She stated bluntly, shaking her head at their clear misrepresentation of her. “Can you really not believe I just enjoy his company?” She huffed, unwilling to engage further with this moment, her skin starting to itch from the dried face mask that was beginning to flake off her face. “Listen, I do actually enjoy being around him. Take that how you will. I have a sleepover to attend.” With that, she turned, leaving the two Pines men on the lawn as she reentered the party. She would just have to hope she interrupted Ford enough to not blast her poor senses with that radar again tonight. The girls had moved on to doing makeovers, Mable taking her time as she heavily blushed Candy’s cheeks. The poor girl looked a bit clownish in the heavy handed makeup over her pale skin.

“Hey, welcome back.” Wendy called out, watching Mable’s artist hand from the chair. Honey smiled casually as she stood in the doorway.

"Thanks; I need to wash this stuff off my face, and then I’ll be back. Mable, can I do your makeup?” Mable smiled widely, looking ready to jump out of her night sky-themed sweater.

“Uhm, is there a better word than ABSOLUTELY?” She squealed. Honey giggled at her consistent, intense enthusiasm. It was a delight to interact with her. Mable didn’t push it like the other two, seeming to genuinely enjoy being around her too. It was nice and, much like with Wendy, felt kindred in some way. Honey moved to the closest bathroom on the bottom floor, deciding not to test her luck going upstairs and risk running into the final Pine’s that existed in the house. If she ran into him, she wasn’t sure she would make it back to the party. She closed the door of the bathroom, running warm water into the sink as she attempted to scrub the green muck that had solidified to her skin. A knock at the door made her jump.

“Hold on a moment.” She called, wiping her face with a towel before moving to open it. With the towel still drying her eyes, two hands gripped her waist, spooking her before it was obvious who was hoisting her back into the room. The door closed loudly behind them, Stan’s possessive fingers digging into her plush skin as he picked her up, turning to press her up against it, smirking at her startled gasp. She dropped the towel to the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pinned her against the solid wood, kissing her chest and neck hungrily.

“Welcome back, doll.” His husky voice purred into her ear, a shiver running down her spine as he nibbled the skin on her neck. She couldn’t help herself, letting her hands run through his hair before she let her fingers rest on his shoulders as she let a little moan escape her.

“I was starting to think Ford kicked you out for the night.” Honey teased, giggling softly as she toyed with his chain. She hesitated to fall into him further, prompting him to finally tear his mouth away from her bared skin and look at her. “I was warned specifically not to ditch.” She bit her lip at the immediate disappointment that met his deep whiskey colored eyes, her heart dropping as he snorted, slowly lowering her to the floor again.

“That’s no fun.” He grumbled, tucking hair behind her ear before settling his gaze on her face. “You sure I can’t steal you? Stealin’ is one of my specialties.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, placing one hand behind her head against the door so there was little space between them as he faced her. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed further into her, resting his other hand on her waist and pulling her in close so not an inch separated their hips. She bit her lip, fighting internally with herself. She wanted to relent; let him whisk her away to his room again and let him pour every ounce of passion he had into her. But she also knew it was obvious, and possibly not as easily forgiven if Wendy was actually annoyed with her for it. Honey reached her hand up to rest on his cheek, letting her thumb caress gently.

“Find me later, when everyone is asleep." She could see the mischievous spark that played across his face, clearly down to sneak around later.

“Of course, I’ll sneak ya out of there in the dead of night.” Stan winked at her, kissing her forehead before moving to open the door and let her out of the bathroom. Honey spilled out into the hall, Stan closing the door behind her as she almost ran straight into Soos.

“Oh, hey dude! You having fun with the girls tonight? I was hanging out with Stan, and he disappeared. I was in the middle of explaining my newest manga to him.” Honey stood straighter than she meant to, forcing an awkward laugh as she started to back down the hallway in measured small steps backward.

“Uh, yeah! Gotta get back and do some makeup!” She turned quickly to move back to the living room, hearing Soos enter the bathroom as she rounded the corner and Stan yell not even a second later. Mable’s face glowed in anticipation as she saw Honey come back, sitting poised as she waited for her to take her place in front of her.

“Are you ready?” Honey asked, smiling softly as she grabbed her makeup out of her bag. “I’m gonna glam you out, sister.” She said as she started with her first steps of a full face, getting a base down, and then starting in on some eyeshadow as the other girls gathered, ooohing and ahhing as Honey worked. Mable was more still for this than she had ever seen the girl in the last couple of weeks, not flinching or shifting as her face transformed. Once Honey was done, the young girl looked almost a couple years older, her round face betraying her age under the makeup, though.

“Whoa, can I be next?” Pacifica asked, staring at Mable, who had started squealing after picking up a mirror. The other two young girls also began to clammer for their own makeovers.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Wendy asked, sounding mildly impressed with her skill.

“I got really good at it when I used to be a...dancer." She covered, distracted mildly as she started on Pacifica’s face. “Do you want to learn?” Wendy looked unsure, scoffing as she waved it off at first.

“I don’t know if I’m that kind of girl." Honey cocked her head, keeping her eyes on Pacifica while she regarded her cousin's words.

“What kind of girl?” She asked gently. Wendy shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her arm as she shrugged.

“I dunno, dude. Like a girly girl, ya know?” Honey pursed her lips to the side as she blended out the eyeshadow on Pacifica’s face.

“Have you ever tried it?” Another gentle question. In the time she had spent with Wendy over the winter, she realized the girl’s confidence only faltered when it came to feminine aspects of life. Surrounded by only boys, she fell naturally into the role, often beating any man at his own game.

“You’re perfect just as you are, love. But do not believe that makeup is only for girly girls. It’s just fun, like painting. You can make your face anything you want it to be. Anyone can wear it.” She spoke with love to her young cousin, only wishing her to be open to new things, even if they made her a little uncomfortable at first. ��Aaand done.” She said, putting one last puff of powder onto Pacifica’s nose. Her reaction was softer than Mable’s, but still full of awe as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“This is better than my old pageant stylist. If I still did them, she would be fired.” She said to no one in particular as she looked over every inch of her new face. Honey smiled, shooing her for the next girl, happy to be connecting with them all as the night carried on, contemplating the conversation that would need to happen.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Stan paced in his makeshift room, watching the clock ticking into the early morning. Things had finally quieted down the hour before, and he had been counting the minutes since he had heard the last voice. Now impatient, he slipped out the door and down the hall, tiptoeing as best he could as he peeked down into the living room. All the kids were scattered around the room, sleeping soundly in various uncomfortable-looking positions. He took each step carefully, trying to avoid the squeaking steps as he made his way down, clicking off the TV when he finally made it to the floor. Panning the room, four little bodies were strewn across the room under blankets. Wendy was curled up in the chair, dead asleep as well.

He smiled at his small niece curled up in front of the TV, her pet pig curled up next to her. He was sure she had gotten some good information. In the meantime, Honey wanted to meet up with him, and that had to mean something good, right? Now he just had to find her. Stan moved to the back door, opening it slowly to scan the porch. He could hear her before he saw her, a light melancholic melody lilting through the air. It was an old love song from his high school days. It made him cringe when he started to remember those awkward memories.

“And the first time ever I kissed your mouth

I felt the earth move in my hand

Like the trembling heart of a captive bird

That was there at my command, my love”

The tune made him shudder, familiar in the way a dream was—illusive and otherworldly, but living deep inside you regardless. She was passionate but deathly quiet as she kept her volume low, making the song seem almost omnipresent in his ears as he looked for her. As he stepped out onto the old wood of the porch, he spotted a silhouette lying on the ground, watching the stars overhead as she sang to them. The light crunch of the ground cut her song short as she sat up, turning to look at Stan as he approached.

“Don’t stop on my account, doll.” Stan said quietly, trying not to spook her further as he walked up. She smiled warmly at him, offering the spot next to her with a small gesture. He groaned softly as he made it down to the ground with her, listening closely as Honey started up her song again. He hoped deeply that Ford was asleep as her unnaturally beautiful voice penetrated the haze of early morning. She finished not long after he joined her, sighing deeply as the final notes trickled off into the trees.

“And I knew our joy would fill the earth

And last 'til the end of time my love

And it would last 'til the end of time

The first time ever I saw your face…”

The last bit was so quiet it trembled in her throat, barely audible to anyone but the two sitting there.

“Ya like old jazz, huh?” He asked, trying to break her silence following. She didn’t look at him as he posed his question, seeming distant while she observed the stars. No answer came forth, the quiet growing uncomfortable for him. He was already losing her. Finally, a question cut the awful tension.

“Have you remembered anymore about our time together... before?" He could see her bite her lip, and although she still did not face him, he could see from the side the way a tear threatened to escape her lush lashes.

“I get bits and pieces of it. Things you do strike me. Every part of it, of you, brings back somethin’. Even if it’s not the full picture.” He didn’t much want to delve into his feelings tonight. Ford already had him frustrated, and now she was near crying. He couldn’t catch a break. Honey’s normally fun, flirty attitude had disappeared in this moment, and he could see the broken girl beside him, hardly keeping herself together. Her next words hit him like a brick to the face.

“I don’t know if I can see you anymore.” She choked on the words, clearly in pain, but it didn’t matter to Stan, who had frozen as panic and fury melded together.

“Is this about Tate? Look, I know he’s probably got more spring in his step, but I promise ya’ I can keep up.” He stammered, the meaning behind her words beginning to grip him. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted her around or how attached he already was. And how he couldn’t stand the thought of her in Tate’s arms. He was ready to fight.

“Stanley, no. Do you remember what we talked about when we were together way back when?” Honey's voice was tinged with desperation as she spoke, finally allowing her eyes to lock in on him.

“No. Small details like that don’t usually come back. " he hated how illusive his own life could be to him sometimes.

“We talked about Ford and your family. You always talked a big game, but anyone could see it hurt you. I knew it was all you wanted. And now you have that. You have your brother and the kids.” Stan rubbed his eyes with his fingers in frustration, not connecting the dots. What did those two things have to do with each other at all? He groaned, standing to pace. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

“I don’t get what that has to do with anything, doll. You don’t want to be with my family? I know the sleepover probably wasn’t fun, but I couldn’t have been that bad.” He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. She wasn’t that superficial, was she? Tears spilled down her cheeks, making his heart drop. He didn’t mean to do that to her. Stan stooped down on his knee, trying to comfort her by rubbing her back. She flinched away from him, hurtful in a way he had never expected. What was happening? Honey's voice raised slightly in pitch as she spoke.

“I loved my time with the girls. But it’s becoming very clear that Ford does not want me here. I can’t be honest with him, and I’m not safe. And I will not stand between you and the family you fought so hard to have.” Fury rose through him, Ford and his conversation earlier echoing in his mind. His gruff voice bordered on deadly as he leveled his gaze at her.

“What happened?” It came out severe, but he could easily sense when Ford’s dangerous activities were afoot. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t intervene, but this was a different type of want he wasn’t ready to give up on easily. Panic met Honey’s eyes as she shook her hands and head at him, trying to dissuade his immediate focus on his meddling brother.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. But I can’t protect myself here, Stan. You have to understand.” It was a plea that stabbed at him.

“I can protect you. I promise I will do anything in my power to protect you.” He was genuine in the promise, feeling desperate to say anything that would keep her here with him.

“You can’t promise that, Stanley.” He couldn’t take her small, huffy breaths as she tried to keep her suffering as quiet as possible, tasting the salty tears that had already soaked into her soft skin as he decided to grab her face and kiss her deeply. She relented, falling easily into his lips with no protest, her familiar body caving into his. It wasn’t the normal heat that burned between them though, but now a grappling of his own emotions as he drew her into his knelt body. Honey laid her head on his chest, her hot tears soaking through his wife beater.

“Look, whatever happened, I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to Ford again. I’ll make sure you never get hurt again.” He tucked the hair that had stuck to her wet face behind her ears, cradling her small broken face in his hand as he spoke softly to her.

“You can’t fight Ford about me. I will not get in the way of your happy ending.” She said it with such fierceness he knew she believed it could exist with or without her. And he was quickly beginning to doubt that was the case as he held her small form against him. He kissed the top of her head.

“Do you want to come inside?” He asked gently, starting to feel watched as they kneeled together in the middle of the lawn. She nodded, not speaking other than Stan’s grunts as they rose and walked hand in hand back inside. The kids continued to sleep peacefully in the living room as he led her upstairs to his own bedroom. Once he had some light on, he looked at her puffy red face. “If you don’t want to be with me because I’m me... I get it.” Stan shrugged, feeling the defeat in his own words. “But if it’s because of Ford meddling, then let me handle my brother.” Honey's eyelashes fluttered as she worked to clear the tears from her eyes, her cheeks getting redder.

“I want you.” It was a simple statement, but her steely blue eyes searched his face as she spoke them, the words meaning something deeper. A memory struck him then, her words dancing through his mind as they had nearly three decades before. She had always wanted him. Stan couldn’t take her sweet face as she watched him, her tongue unconsciously flicking across her bottom lip. He wanted to take that plump lip between his teeth, wrap his own tongue around hers.

“I want you too.” It was all he could manage as he moved towards her, gathering her tightly into his arms. Her own arms wrapped around his neck as he moved to hold her, sitting on the bed and leaning up against the wall behind them to support both their weight as he stroked her hair. “Give me some time, doll. I’ll fix this, and I’ll keep you safe.” He felt her relax, resting comfortably against his chest. This was not how he wanted the night to go, but he relished the way her quiet breaths settled into cute little snores as the morning passed. Sleep didn’t dare cross his mind as he contemplated what to do to make this right.

#gravity falls #grunkle stan #stan pines #original character #oc #original fanfiction #stanley pines #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #hunkle stan #grunkle ford #sexy stan pines #sea grunkles #sexy grunkle

12 notes · View notes

yloiseconeillants · 9 months ago

Text

FEBHYURARY 2024 :: Day 9 - Sun

The city was still spinning as the sun rose between distant gaps in the skyline. Ariadne grimaced against its warming glow, wearily shielding her eyes before ducking into the slowly shortening shadows of the towers on the opposite side of the street. She lifted her head, a headache already pounding behind her eyes, her fuzzy vision focusing at last at a balcony far above covered in hanging plants. Given the angle of the sun, she guessed she had about two hours before she was expected to give a lecture - about what?

She stood slack-jawed on the steep ramp leading to her building’s lobby. What was the lecture about? Sexual reproduction of flowering plants, she remembered, the ghost of a childish smirk crossing her face for just a moment. Two hours, she thought, dragging her feet across the lobby to the elevator. Enough time for a shower and maybe food, but certainly not for sleep. It took her a moment to remember which floor she wanted, but the building remembered for her: a pleasant chime as the doors closed and the lift ascended to the 12th floor.

She dreaded these elevator rides. Alone with her thoughts at last, they invariably drifted back to her latest regret. She sifted through her memories, trying to sort out which happened last night, and which happened the night before, or the night before that, or some time in the distant past. So many memories to keep track of and so few (and such temporary) ways to forget.

...

He was there. Probably dragged along by his partner (or his partner’s partner, more like), his back was turned to her when she wandered downstairs from the symposium on the roof to refill her drink. She slipped behind a group of taller Phantomology students, grabbed an entire bottle of wine off a table, and slid into a storage room off the lecture hall without him noticing. She hoped, anyway. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she considered her situation. No other way out of this room. Nothing fun in here, either, just more chairs. She sighed, and opened the door. And there he was. He was still wearing his mask, though the hood had been thrown back, and covering his mouth with his hand in anticipation of her emerging from the storage room. She couldn’t see it, but she knew he was smirking.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” His voice held no trace of amusement. She bought herself some time by downing the entire glass of wine she had just poured, and poured herself another, as Hades leaned back against the wall, his shoulders slumping. He seemed to be deflating.

“No,” she responded flatly, looking for the exit as her burning cheeks betrayed her again. Maybe he would think it was just a response to the alcohol. A foolish thought. A nearby group of students shifted towards the stairs to the roof, leaving them far more room alone than Ariadne was comfortable with. Hades took the opportunity to move closer.

“I missed you,” he ventured, keeping his face turned from hers, his hand dangling dangerously close to hers. An invitation. One she should not entertain. She took another large gulp of her wine, though she couldn’t repeat her earlier performance without consequence.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I was here,” she gestured emphatically around her, wine sloshing in the glass, “the entire time.” The unsaid thing drifted in the small space between them. That was the problem.

…

The elevator chimed again, doors opening smoothly. She stepped into the hallway and doors closed behind her again. She followed the track of soft lights down the corridor, pausing in front of room 1216. She rustled around her bag for a key, eyes unfocused on anything before she recognized a spore growing from a corner of the door frame. It wasn’t there yesterday. Probably wasn’t there yesterday. She hadn’t looked. Another one escaped.

She unlocked the door and entered her apartment. It was pitch black, thanks in part to the dark, thick drapes she had tacked up against the windows. She’d have to redouble her efforts at keeping her specimens contained. Halmarut had given her an earful about keeping her research at the Akadaemia, but she insisted on bringing it home. At the time, she claimed it was because she needed to test spore reactions to different environments, but here, alone, she knew it was because her work kept him away. It kept everyone away, in fact - a convenient excuse to keep going out and never bring anyone home. This was her space: to be as uninviting and hostile as she wanted.

She dropped her bag in the middle of the room and wrenched her way out of her robes, turning on the harsh light in the washroom and gazing into the mirror for a moment. Her neck and shoulders were painted in lipstick smudges, small bruises, and bite marks. She fluttered her fingertips over one of the marks, trying to remember who was responsible. Her stomach dropped when she realized it was one of his.

#febhyurary #febhyurary 2024 #azem tag #shadowbringers tag #ariadne #other ocs #the game: azem is sun-coded!#me who had been carefully constructing a labyrinth metaphor for months with my warrior of light: well FUCK-#solution: she's not azem

34 notes · View notes

mortemoppetere · 6 months ago

Text

TIMING: shortly after what if...? LOCATION: just outside the jones house. PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: not long after rhett leaves, emilio runs into ariadne. they both have a lot of big, complicated feelings. CONTENT: suicidal ideation, child death, parental death, sibling death

Wynne’s new house was amazing. It was everything that they deserved, and Ariadne couldn’t be happier for them. She also took great enjoyment in visiting them – the estate (she wasn’t sure what else to call it) that they lived on now was incredibly expansive and impressive. However, visiting them meant going near where Emilio was, and she was pretty positive he was still mad at her, even if Wynne had said that he wasn’t. She still worried that he’d tell them to break up with her, and even though Wynne was strong-willed and sure of themself, she worried they’d leave her.

But she was walking around the grounds, still, because being out and existing by herself was like, important or something. Crucial to not becoming someone who just lived in a house all the time and never came outside. The day was cold, but it didn’t bother her too much – if only in part because she was always cold, and so Ariadne had come to terms with that, at least somewhat.

Except — then she was walking and then there Emilio was, and she froze where she was standing, Juicy Fruit gum stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I – hi.” Ariadne began, “I was – out for a walk. Just – I can go. Now. If you want. Sorry to startle you.” She looked down at her feet.

To say that Emilio had been off since his conversation with Lucio would be one hell of an understatement. It had been jarring enough just to see his uncle alive after leaving him for dead in the streets years ago, but hearing what Lucio had to say? Listening to his retelling of the events leading up to the massacre, learning the truth about his mother and her intentions… Emilio’s already flimsy grasp on his mind had been slipping more and more, leaving him staring at the wall for hours or blinking morning into evening without being present for the hours in between.

Even now, he moved on autopilot. Wandering the grounds of Teddy’s house like a ghost, outside in the harsh Maine winter in a t-shirt and jeans despite his distaste for the cold. With how out of it he’d been, he figured it was a minor miracle that he’d remembered to put shoes on. It was the shiver down his spine of nearby undead that brought him back to himself, instincts forcing him to be present as a figure approached. His whole body tensed, teeth clenching so tightly that his jaw hurt. It took him a moment to recognize the blonde hair and soft features, took him a moment longer to force his body to relax.

His feelings towards Ariadne had been… complex since that factory. What happened wasn’t her fault, even if it had been done in her name. (There was something almost funny about the thought now. Could he say the same about the massacre? He found it hard to.) She hadn’t known about it, wouldn’t have wanted it if she had. But even so… he couldn’t stop his mind from going back there at the sight of her. Couldn’t get the stench of blood out of his nose, couldn’t shake the feeling of Rhett’s panic hanging over him. She was speaking, and it took him a moment to track what she was saying, took him a moment longer to translate it in his mind. He lifted a shoulder and dropped it listlessly. “It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “It’s — You don’t have to go anywhere. Didn’t startle, it’s okay.”

—

“I – okay. ‘Cause you can sense me, right? Is that why I didn’t startle you?” Ariadne couldn’t help but once again look down at her feet. The urge to reply with a ‘sorry’ was pressing against her lips, desperate to get out, but she did her best to swallow it back down. To focus on Wynne, just like how they’d talked about, how focusing on what they’d say in any given situation was a surefire way to help, to better things. They would’ve told her that she’d been invited here, because it was their home now too, and it was also healthy for her to go out on her own.

Except that she did still feel guilty – even though Inge and Siobhan’s actions were done of their own freewill, if she hadn’t gotten kidnapped and if she hadn’t made such a big deal about it, maybe they never would’ve done that. Except maybe she hadn’t even made that much of a big deal about it, given that’d she’d been actually kidnapped just for “funsies”, though she didn’t think that man – Him – Rhett – would ever use the word funsies. She made a face at the thought, before registering that she was still standing in front of Emilio. “Sorry, that face wasn’t for you. I was just thinking about… something else. Homework.” That should work, right? Not that she wanted to lie.

“I just wanted to go out for a walk.” She pulled the pack of Juicy Fruit from her pocket. “Do you want a piece? It’s – it’s just gum.” Ariadne sighed again, arguably one of the strangest habits for someone who was dead to have, given her lack of need to breathe, but still. It was what it was. “I’m still – sorry.” Maybe he’d know what she meant. “Did you also want fresh air?”

—

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “I can sense you.” He wondered what it must feel like from her perspective. Hunters’ ability to sense the things they were meant to kill was evolution’s way of giving them a leg up in an otherwise vastly uneven fight, he knew. Without it, the already short average lifespan of hunters would have likely been made even shorter. He’d never wondered how it must have felt to be sensed by a thing built to take you out, but he found himself thinking about it now. Most supernatural species didn’t have the same ability in reverse. Did they find it unjust? Uneven? Did he? Looking at Ariadne, Emilio couldn’t help but think on the question.

He didn’t know if it ached less to think about that instead of the factory or Mexico. There was a dull ache all over now, settling snugly into his bones like it was a part of him. It made it difficult to register if any one thing hurt more than another, made it hard to tell if this was better or worse than the mental image of Flora’s corpse against the wall or Rhett’s leg sitting a few feet from the rest of his body. Almost laughably, he was filled with the thought that he wasn’t doing it right, wasn’t grieving in a way he should have been grieving. Should he have been angrier? Should he have been yelling at Ariadne as a scapegoat, or apologizing for making her one? He felt empty, and he didn’t think he was supposed to.

She spoke, and it was difficult to hear her even though she was speaking at a normal volume. It was like there was radio static playing in the back of his mind, like he was half here, half somewhere else. She reached for her pocket and he tensed without meaning to, went taut like a rubber band moments from snapping despite the fact that he knew that the kid was unarmed, was harmless, didn’t want to hurt him. She pulled out a package, offered him something wrapped in yellow paper, and he stared at it for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to respond. “Don’t think I like gum,” he replied, wondering if there was something funny about the fact that he didn’t know for certain.

“I… yeah. I wanted fresh air. Having a hard time…” He trailed off, unsure how to describe it. Having a hard time existing lately. Having a hard time being a person. Having a hard time remembering when and where I am. Hey, do you see that dead kid in the corner? Not you, the other dead kid. The one that was mine. She’s right there, next to the leg your friends cut off my brother. He let out a quiet, strangled sound that wasn’t a laugh, but wasn’t anything else, either. “Sorry,” he said flatly. “Didn’t mean to bother your walk.” That wasn’t the word he wanted, was it? Not bother. Interrupt? Closer, but not quite. Ruin? Yeah. Yeah, that was probably it. He was good at that.

—

“Right, yeah. I remember. From when we first met.” Which wasn’t even a year ago, but still, it felt like forever ago and maybe more. Ariadne wasn’t sure how she was supposed to deal with being alive for forever when time was already way too confusing. But that also wasn’t a road she wanted to go down right now. Or ever! But especially not right now. She also still didn’t quite get how people could sense her. She didn’t wear overly strong perfume, though she knew it wasn’t that sort of sense. It was unnerving. She thought that she wasn’t supposed to get unnerved anymore. But as it turned out, dying and becoming a nightmare monster didn’t get rid of anxiety and, in fact, exacerbated it at times.

Ariadne could see Emilio go tense, and that alone made her want to shrink into the ground. Wanted to just not ever come back. But Wynne lived here now, and she was positive that she couldn’t physically possibly go much time at all without seeing them. So she steadied herself.

“Oh, well, it’s good, but that’s also valid. Chewing stuff and not swallowing isn’t what we’re, like, supposed to be used to, right?” She didn’t expect an answer – the question was rhetorical, born from Ariadne’s apparent need to fill the space with something. Which Emilio probably wasn’t the biggest fan of, maybe. Not that she knew him too well. Or much at all. But Wynne trusted him, and they were living with him now, so that had to mean something. She trusted Wynne more than anything (more than herself, most days), so she refocused her attention.

She couldn’t help but jump slightly at the sound he made. “I –” Ariadne began before she could help herself. “No – you – I – you didn’t bother my walk. This isn’t my home,” though with Wynne anywhere felt like home, “and it’s – you’re allowed to go wherever you want. It’s – I’m fine.” She scratched her head. “I’m sorry I bothered your walk. Your space. Can you – even – when I’m –” she stammered through nearly half a dozen false starts. “Do you sense me even when I’m over in Wynne’s house?”

—

He didn’t know how old he’d been when he’d learned how to swim. He remembered it in snippets, mostly. The rickety wooden rowboat his mother had loaded him onto, the way she’d taken him out into the middle of the lake far past where his feet could brush the bottom before tossing him overboard, the way she’d smacked him away with the oar when he’d tried, desperately, to climb back onto that rotting wooden salvation, the way she rowed away and left him there, expecting him to either make his way back to shore or die trying. He was good at it, the swimming. He picked it up quickly by necessity, made his way back to shore in a way that was effective even if it wasn’t graceful. His lungs had ached by the end of it, and he was sure he must have inhaled at least a little of the dirty water from the lake, but he felt victorious all the same. The next day, when she rowed him out and did it again, he was better. He was a good swimmer. He had to be. But he didn’t enjoy it much.

He hated the feeling of water closing in on him, the way it felt like some invisible pressure all around his body. Mostly, he hated how quickly treading water wore him out. It shouldn’t have, he thought, shouldn’t have been the kind of thing that exhausted you after only a few minutes, but it was. And it was infuriating. You did all that work just to stay afloat. And Emilio, he’d been treading water for days now, kicking his feet and moving his arms and just trying to stay afloat. He wasn’t as good at it as he used to be. He was looking at this kid, and she was blurry like he was staring at her from the bottom of that murky lake. She was talking, and he had to strain to hear her over the water in his ears. He was on dry land, and his lungs still ached like he was half-drowned. Was Ariadne a good swimmer? If she was dropped in the middle of that lake, would she have made it back to shore?

She was talking about the first time they met, and he had to struggle to remember it. It seemed funny, almost. He remembered the events of that massacre two years ago so vividly that they were playing out again in real time every time he closed his eyes, but meeting this kid less than a year ago seemed so fuzzy that he could scarcely recall it at all. “Right.” His voice was hoarse, his tone flat with the barest hint of uncertainty behind it. They met. He’d sensed her. They’d gone into the mines. That had happened, hadn’t it?

He stared at her hand as she held the gum, eyes unfocused. Chew it up, spit it out. What was the point of it, he wondered? What was it for? Chew it up, spit it out. Did it make you feel better, somehow? Make the world feel less suffocating, make it a little easier to tread water? Chew it up, spit it out. He kept trying to digest the process in his mind, jaw so tight it hurt. It was difficult to wrap his mind around it, but it was difficult to wrap his mind around anything, really.

She jumped, and he felt guilty. Sorry I scare you, he wanted to say. I scare me, too. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared right now, but I’m bad at it. It’s a funny thing to be bad at. I get scared the way a dog gets scared. You know? With teeth. I get scared in the kind of way that makes people think I ought to be put down. He wanted to say all of it, but he didn’t know how, couldn’t fit the words on his tongue. He wasn’t good enough in English to know how to use it to explain how he felt. He wasn’t even sure he could do it in Spanish. He didn’t have the words to describe the empty cavern that made up who he was. He wasn’t even sure the words existed.

“No,” he said. His eyes darted briefly to something behind her, something that wasn’t there. There were no corpses at Teddy’s house. He had to remind himself. The only corpses here were the two walking and talking right here, the sad dead girl and the ghost of a man with a deceptively beating heart. There was nothing else rotting. “I can’t feel you when you’re at Wynne’s house. Have to be closer. Not much of an alarm bell. More of a… uh… a…” He struggled to find the word to describe it. Confirmación? He wasn’t sure, so he just shrugged. “You didn’t bother me.” It wasn’t true, but it was. Her presence set him off, but when he was like this, most things did. If he hadn’t run into her, he’d have been put on edge by the way the wind blew, or the smell of the water on the beach near the house, or the chill in the air. If it wasn’t one thing, it was something else, but it was always something. Emilio was made up of a thousand switches he didn’t know how to trigger until someone did it. He could hardly blame anyone else for stepping on a trip wire.

—

She’d challenged Chance to dozens of races when they were kids. When he’d been more timid than she was, when she’d had to bribe him to do wild things. Not that Ariadne had ever been an especially wild child, but she had been more daring, and she had loved how running so fast changed her breathing pattern, how it made her breath more heavily, made her so acutely aware of the world around her and what immense power it had over her. It was beautiful, and it was weird, but weird in a good way.

Breath had no power over her now. Or was it that she had no power over breath? Either way, breath wasn’t something that was a part of her life any longer. Which was weird and unsettling, if she thought about it too much. So Ariadne didn’t. Think about it, that was. She had enough things to go about spiraling about, and she for sure didn’t need to add this to the list. She couldn’t breathe now, and that was terrifying, but she also didn’t need to breathe, which probably meant she could win underwater breathing contests if she wanted to. Which would be one heck of a way to make money, if she ever needed to.

Her parents had taught her basic common-sense survival skills when she was little. Not anything major, but she could change oil in a car when she was seven, and of course, there had been the embroidery business she “ran” and got very into. It was handy, being able to fix things, being able to mend things with items that you could only and easily fit into your pocket. Except, of course, there was the whole issue of how she couldn’t fix what she really wanted to. Ariadne also didn’t like to think about that too much.

Apparently there were quite a lot of things she didn’t like to think about. She wondered if she should start a list, but that would involve thinking about the same things that she didn’t want to think about, which cycled her all the way back to where she was at the start. Listing what you didn’t want to think about in order to not think about it certainly didn’t work, right? Though Ariadne wondered if it was worth exploring.

Not now, though. Maybe some other time.

Some other time when she wasn’t focused on making sure she gave a good impression to someone who was like a parent to Wynne and who could tell she was dead and whose brother had tried to murder her and who she had met in the mines.

“Yeah.” She replied to his Right. One word replies worked. Or they had to. Ariadne decided that. Not that her deciding that meant anything in the wide long term scheme of things, but it did prove that she could at least, on occasion, be semi-decisive.

She figured when she became a literal nightmare monster creature (though Wynne wouldn’t have liked her talking about herself that way) – when she died and now suddenly had the ability to cause nightmares, she should’ve stopped being so skittish, and yet if anything she couldn’t think of any time in her life when she’d been more skittish. Except, maybe, when she first started school and couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just hang out at the hardware store all day.

“Okay.” She wanted to know more about how his sense of her worked, but that wasn’t something to ask. Not now, and maybe-probably not ever. Which was yet another scary thought, and one that made her stomach twist and turn and made her spit her gum into its wrapper and stuff a few jelly beans (peach and pear flavored) into her mouth to quell the hunger that she suddenly felt. “Okay, okay, because if I do, like, y’know, set you off, you can tell me. It’s okay. I won’t – it’s okay.” She didn’t like to lie, and so Ariadne couldn’t genuinely say that she wouldn’t be hurt by it, but it was okay, because Emilio was allowed to feel however the heck he wanted about anything. Including her. Even if he was important to Wynne and Ariadne was worried (add that to the list) that if he didn’t like her, they’d eventually decide that she wasn’t worth much, or wasn’t good enough for them.

She was well aware that she wasn’t good enough for them, but she loved them more than she’d ever loved anyone, and they did say that they loved her too, and they also didn’t lie…

But still, it was hard and complicated and all too much.

“Do you walk out and about here often?”

—

Set you off. Something about the way she said it was funny. Or, as funny as Emilio was capable of finding anything right now, which was to say… not very funny at all. The smile he cracked at the words looked more like a grimace, the shuddered breath he drew his best attempt at a laugh. It wasn’t very hard to set him off these days, was it? Everything seemed to do it. Someone spoke in the wrong tone, or said the wrong thing, or looked at him the wrong way, and he was somewhere else. He was in a bloody living room and his hands were shaking. He was in an abandoned factory, and the stench of decay was everywhere. He was in a tiny shed, and the knife he held was too big for his small hands.

He wondered if Ariadne knew that her setting him off had so little to do with the sense in his head that told him her heart wasn’t beating. He wondered if she understood that she wasn’t the dead kid who was haunting him now, that there was another corpse, another ghost that set him off far more than she ever could.

He thought of Flora, as if he ever thought of anything else. He thought of Ariadne, too, and of Inge and Siobhan and Rhett and Lucio. He thought of the world they lived in where kids died and some came back to be locked in the backs of vans while others were buried by the same hands that held those keys. He’d spent the last two years avenging his daughter, and he still felt empty. Inge and Siobhan spent days carving pieces off his brother to avenge Ariadne. Did they feel empty, too? What could fill that space, he wondered? What existed that could ever hope to be enough to make the pit in his stomach less gaping?

It’s okay, Ariadne was saying, and that was funny-not-funny, too. It’s okay, she said, even though nothing was. Even though she was dead and Flora was dead and Emilio wasn’t. Even when he’d offered his life up in exchange for that of a man who’d hurt her, even when he’d made two people who he thought must have loved her promise not to avenge her again. It’s okay, it’s okay. The words stopped having any kind of meaning a long time ago.

“You didn’t do anything, you know.” Because she hadn’t. She hadn’t done anything to prompt Rhett to throw her into that van. Something had broken in his brother years ago, Emilio knew, before Mexico and before Flora, and Ariadne wasn’t responsible for it but she felt the effects the same way Emilio did, suffered the aftermath in a way she hadn’t earned. And she hadn’t done anything to bring about what happened in that factory, either. Siobhan and Inge chose to do what they did the same way Rhett chose to do what he did. It wasn’t Ariadne’s fault that vengeance was such a messy thing. He didn’t think it was something she’d have chosen, if she’d had any kind of a say.

She hadn’t done anything here, either. She was out, she was walking, and she was allowed to do that. She should be allowed. It wasn’t her who’d set him off, wasn’t her who’d caused the mess in his head even if seeing her exasperated it a little. The truth was, something had broken in Emilio years ago, too. Maybe it went back further than the massacre he couldn’t escape. Maybe whatever was wrong with him started with that kid in that shed, with a knife that was too big for him to hold with just one hand and a monster he hadn’t yet learned not to fear.

Her voice dragged him back to the present, though it took him a moment to understand the words. He furrowed his brow, translated them in his head despite the fact that he knew all of them, understood the context. Pain flared in his leg like a reminder, and his nostrils flared with an attempt to push it back down. “No.” No, that wasn’t right. “Yeah.” Maybe not that, either. “Sometimes.” Better, he thought. Closer. “Not good at it anymore. Walking. But it…” Helps? It didn’t, though. Not on nights like tonight, where nothing did. “Somebody said it was good for me, I don’t know.” He tried to remember if that was true or not, if someone had actually made that claim or if he’d made it up. Did it matter?

“Are you — Am I bothering you? Do I…” He trailed off, uncertain. Do I scare you? I probably should. I’m built to kill you, and my brother already tried it. I’m not a very good person, you know. Of course you know. You’ve seen it firsthand, haven’t you? In the van, when you thought I was there to kill you. Do you still think that? I’m sorry I’m like this. I scare me, too. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not supposed to be alive, either. I shouldn’t be. He couldn’t force it out, couldn’t make sense of the twisted thoughts in his head. What did he actually want to say? Did he even know? “Lo siento. I’m sorry. I was just… I’ll go back inside.”

—

She wasn’t supposed to be afraid. She wasn’t supposed to have her new default be to curl up and away from most of the world. She hadn’t been timid before, but now she figured that was the only half-decent way to describe herself. Ariadne wished that becoming a mare had made her stronger – she figured that was what success meant – but it only made her feel empty, hollow, and dead. Which she was. The latter of those three, at least. Dead but not dead. Like that cat. You didn’t know until you opened her up, and even then, it was a guess half the time. She knew that people like Wynne and Cass made her feel alive, and when she danced she felt more alive than dead, but she wasn’t alive and would never be alive again. There wasn’t a way to reverse what had happened to her. Not in the slightest.

If there were, there was very little she wouldn’t have done to get her humanity back. To be able to live a long life with Wynne, to grow old together.

Inge and Siobhan had gone after Emilio’s brother because of her.

Inge and Siobhan had all but killed someone because of her.

He’d hurt Inge too, and maybe also Siobhan, but if Ariadne hadn’t made such a big deal about being kidnapped then maybe nothing would’ve happened and Emilio wouldn’t be mad or sad or frustrated or disappointed in all that she was.

Or if He – if Rhett – had been successful in his stupid and bad science. She didn’t want to die (well, again), that much she knew without a single doubt in her mind, but if she’d just disappeared, then maybe things wouldn't have been quite as complicated in the way that they were. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe.

It was all in shades of gray. So much of her life was now, whether or not she wanted that to be the case. Which, in most cases, was very much in the not category. As in, not wanting shades of gray. At least in terms of her life and the way she existed in the world. Not that she hadn’t been gray before, because what even were binaries, but it had been a more comforting gray. The gray now felt cold and hard. There were hardly any soft edges.

“What?” Her voice sounded sharper than she’d meant – maybe because she was the stuff of broken glass and knives and horror movie villains now – “sorry – what?” She adjusted her voice, making it more like what she was used to. What she was familiar with. What she usually went with. What her default was, when she wasn’t defensive and sharp and anxious. The first two were easy enough for her to not be, but anxious, not so much.

Since Emilio’s brother had thrown her in the van, she’d only gotten worse. It was only with a decent bit of pressure disguised as encouragement that she’d ended up being okay at all with wandering around at night. Which was supposed to be her time, and of course she preferred to spend the nights with Wynne, but she did like to look at the sky and watch the way the world behaved in shadow, at night. There was a beauty to it, as much as Ariadne was sometimes reluctant to believe that. She wondered if Emilio liked the dark, or if he preferred daytime. He probably preferred daytime, preferred when the world was softer and warm.

“Yeah. Walking’s supposed to do stuff.” A-plus on the words there, huh? Not that she thought of herself as especially eloquent, but usually she was far better at it than this. “It’s good to walk.” She got more joy out of dancing, but she also knew that she very much had to exist outside, at least sometimes, and a walk did wonders. It was terribly fun on her best days, to watch the flowers all around. Bugs and forest creatures and all other sorts of animals used to be a great joy, but now, given how scared they were of her, flowers and other flora were what she enjoyed most. At least they weren’t afraid of her.

“No! This is your house, right? It’s – no. You aren’t bothering me. Don’t go back inside.” Her breath tasted sour. “I mean, you don’t have to. Unless you want to. It’s fine.” Ariadne pressed her fingertips against her temple. She didn’t want to make Emilio do anything, and he’d done nothing but good things for her ever since they’d met. He could’ve killed her in the van, but instead let her out. He’d done so many good things. He was good. Wynne didn’t like bad people, she reminded herself. It was something she reminded herself of on the days when she felt the greatest amount of self-doubt. Wynne wouldn’t like her – wouldn’t love her, if she was bad.

“You can do whatever feels most right to you.”

—

He used to pray. He thought about it, sometimes, how strange it seemed. With all his mother’s harshness, with all the sharp edges she’d used to cut him into pieces and all the weapons she’d made extensions of her body, a person might not assume she was the religious type. But she had been. She’d believed in a higher power, believed that she had some duty towards it. She’d passed that duty off to him, to, to Emilio and his siblings. God chose them, she used to say. God chose their family to rid the world of evil, to cleanse it. They didn’t serve themselves with their stakes and their blades. They served something far bigger, something powerful.

There was a God, and He had great things in store for the Cortez bloodline. So Emilio used to pray. He used to get on his knees, used to fold his hands together so tightly they ached, used to mutter into his mattress and hope that God didn’t hate mumbling as much as his mother did. It was simple stuff at first. He prayed to be better, to learn easier, to stop fidgeting and pay more attention and make his mother proud. It shifted as time went on. He was twelve, and he was praying for God to send his brother back to him, for Him to change His mind about taking Victor away. He was eighteen, and he was pleading with God not to take Rosa while she bled out on the kitchen table, was begging for Edgar to be allowed to come home in one piece, was making deals with a higher power for what remained of his siblings to keep breathing. And then —

Then he was twenty-eight, and he was praying for the girl he loved to stay with him and never leave. He was promising God all sorts of things so long as it meant Juliana would stay in his bed, was pretending not to recognize that having her there without a ring on her finger was a sin. He bought the ring because he promised God he would, he put it on her finger because he had a deal with something bigger than himself. Then Juliana gave him something new to pray for, something with tiny hands and a tight grip.

So he prayed. He used to pray. He’d prayed during that massacre, had pleaded and begged and demanded and come home to blood and bodies on the floor anyway. He made deals with God, and it was God who broke them every time. It was God who turned His back, because Emilio never had. Emilio prayed. Emilio used to pray.

He’d done it again in that factory. It was hard not to think of it now, with Ariadne standing in front of him. Had she prayed in that van, he wondered? Had she asked God to deliver her from it, had she begged for retribution? Had what happened in that factory been the answer to someone’s prayer, even if it wasn’t his? How did God choose, he wondered, which prayers to answer and which to deny? How did He decide who to damn in order to save someone else?

(It probably wasn’t a particularly hard choice. Emilio had never been worth saving. Even his mother had known that.)

Still, even if Ariadne had prayed for what had happened to his brother, even if she’d celebrated it, how much could Emilio fault her? How could he be angry with her for wanting someone to slay the monster under her bed? The fact that he loved Rhett couldn’t excuse what had happened in that van. The fact that he sometimes felt that his brother was all he had left didn’t make Ariadne any less afraid of him. He couldn’t excuse what Rhett had done, couldn’t tell the kid in front of him now that she had no right to be afraid. He could tell stories, sure, but they wouldn’t change anything. Knowing that Rhett’s hands had once changed his daughter’s diapers when Emilio was too exhausted to do so himself wouldn’t make Ariadne remember them as anything more than the hands that had shoved her in a prison and left her there to rot.

And the inverse was true, too. Rhett could be a monster to Ariadne and a lifeline to Emilio. She could pray for him to suffer and he could pray for him to live and God could choose whose prayers to answer and whose to cast aside. Wasn’t that what it meant to be God, anyway?

“I just mean…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish. He didn’t know what he meant; he never did. He could blame it on the language barrier, but the truth of the matter was that even in his own head, Emilio’s intentions felt muddled sometimes. Why did he do the things he did? Sometimes, he had no idea. Sometimes, the world seemed to end at the smallest of inconveniences and his hands acted as if they were their own entity. They broke things that he didn’t want broken, they hit things he didn’t want to hit. Frustration bubbled, even now, though it was a distant thing. He wondered if it was better this way, if being cut off from what he felt was better than feeling it all too much. He wondered why rage and apathy were the only options afforded to him. “You didn’t do anything,” he said again. “You just — You’re just here. You were just there.” She didn’t deserve what Rhett had done to her, and that must have meant that Rhett had deserved what had been done to him. Even if Emilio had prayed for something else. Even if he still did.

“Right,” he agreed, and he still felt distant. Like he was somewhere else, or like she was. The world flickered. He was in the yard, he was in the factory, he was in the living room. He was always in the living room. He thought he must have been buried there. “I’m… I used to…” He swallowed, tapping a finger absently against his leg. “It hurts more than it used to. Walking. I can’t do it as much now.” He tried not to think of Rhett, who could hardly walk at all now and had still walked away from Emilio. It was hard to think of anything else, though.

He let out a hollow laugh, and it sounded far away, like it had come from someone else. “It’s not my house,” he replied. “It’s Teddy’s house. They let me stay.” He thought for now, but he didn’t say it. Ariadne, he thought, was the sort of person who would want to protest that, the kind who would insist that Teddy wanted him to stay for as long as he’d like. Emilio knew there was some truth to it. Teddy loved him; they wouldn’t lie about that. But Emilio was a hard man to love, a hard person to keep around. To love him was to watch as he destroyed himself, over and over again. To love him was to spend every goddamn morning peeling him off a living room floor that he hadn’t seen in years now. Anyone would tire of it eventually. “Nothing feels right to me,” he admitted, though he didn’t mean to. The words slipped out all their own, and he watched them go as if they were printed on the sky. “Everything’s fucked. You know? Nothing’s made sense in a long time. I can go if you need me to. I can stay if you want. But it’s not — Nothing feels right.”

—

Her mom’s mom was religious. Not in the oppressive sort of way, but she was. She’d read children’s books about Jesus and the other people in the Bible. She’d like the ones where women showed up, even if Ariadne herself didn’t care much about religion at all. Her parents had never made her go to church – though when they’d visited her mom’s parents she’d gone to church in France, and that had been cool, but she figured maybe it was because she liked stories and in reality, it was just another big book of stories. Going and getting hot chocolate after the service was just an added bonus.

She’d wondered briefly, when she’d died, if it was because of something she’d done. Something so bad that the only natural consequence was to die. Ariadne had wracked her brain then, trying to see if she could think of something she’d done that was so bad that she deserved death.

When she’d found out exactly what she was, she’d wondered what could be so awful that she’d be cursed to become a literal nightmare.

So, as it turned out, maybe she was a bit religious. At least more than she’d figured that she was. But still not strictly so. Just enough to make her think. Her parents weren’t, though they did take her to the local church’s pancake breakfast whenever they had one. That had been good, and it was warm and fun and when she was little, she’d gotten excited about dressing up in some sort of fancy dress (which always had to have a poofy skirt, obviously), even though the skirt had often ended up with pancake syrup (genuine, obviously) on it. But that was fun and her parents never minded.

Ariadne was well aware of how lucky she was, if nothing else. Her parents were perfect – or even if not perfect, they were perfect for her and they both seemed to really love her and there was nothing that she loved more than pure love. It was one of the most beautiful things in the world, and was also an additional reason why she hated what she was so very much. Because who loved nightmares?

Wynne, apparently, she answered herself. Except they loved one particular nightmare (her) rather than in general. They didn’t love nightmares. Distinctly didn’t love them, and that was one reason why Ariadne did her best to make sure they didn’t have them.

Which also made her wonder if and when they’d get scared of her, when they wouldn’t want her around anymore. Which was very much not helpful to think about around Emilio, of all people. Not that Ariadne held any negative feelings or ill will towards Emilio, but she knew how important he was to Wynne, and she was already so nervous about losing them.

Emilio was completely close to that man. The one who’d locked her up and hurt her and who Inge and Siobhan had hurt in turn, hurt because of her and she wasn’t sure how to contend with the fact that she didn’t feel completely awful about that happening. That she felt almost good, in the right light. At the right angle.

Which made her something of a monster, didn’t it?

To take any sort of pleasure in someone else’s pain, even if it was someone who had caused her some of the most intense pain that she’d had since becoming what she was (since becoming a monster) – except Inge and Leila didn’t want her to think that way, and Wynne, through some absolute miracle, didn’t see her as one, and so maybe she should focus on the actual conversation at hand, rather than the thousands of not-so-great thoughts that kept zooming around in her head.

“I’m here. Was there.” She echoed. Still wanting to walk on tiptoes around Emilio, still afraid that somehow disappointing him would lead to Wynne no longer being in her life and that was not a future that she could handle whatsoever.

At least for now, Ariadne chastised herself, because of course at some point Wynne wouldn’t be around anymore but she’d do whatever it took to keep them around for as long she possibly could. To keep them safe and protected and hope that things turned out alright. At least as alright as was possible now.

“I’m sorry you can’t walk so well now.” She looked at him with a look of sympathy that she hoped he knew was genuine. Because she didn’t hate him, and didn’t want to hate him – he had saved her when he’d had the very easy option to let her just wither away in that stupid (stupid) van, and he’d still saved her. Made sure she was okay. Which meant he had to be good. Wynne adored him, and she trusted them to like people who were trustworthy and so she had to chill out. Besides, she was in Emilio’s partner’s yard. Visiting her partner, but still. She was more out of place here, invasive species, or something.

“But it’s as good as your house.” She said, voice barely above a whisper. “If it’s theirs, and you are with them, and you stay here a lot…” Ariadne neglected to add that she knew Wynne’s home wasn’t equally hers, but that was different. She didn’t want to assume too much or take too much – greedy like a child taking too much candy. Which would only lead to a stomach ache, which was something very much unpleasant.

That was to say, something to be avoided at any cost possible.

“I don’t want to make you do anything. You should – you should get to decide what you do. I’m still sorry if I startled you, or set off extra feelings of things not being quite right.” Even if he’d said it was fine that she was here, she couldn’t help herself.

Ariadne bit her lip, “I don’t know if this is helpful at all, but basically nothing – except for Wynne and some of my friends – but especially Wynne – feels right. Wynne’s the only fully right thing in my life. Best part of my life, no contest.” She looked down at the ground, toed her foot against the dirt again. “So I can – we – whatever you want.”

—

She echoed his sentiment — that she was here now, that she’d been there before — and there was something almost funny about it. When he got like this (which was the only language he had to describe the way the world got hazy sometimes, the way it was hard to breathe for no reason, the way he jumped between past and present with the blink of an eye, the way it felt like a fight just to want to live), most things existed in some odd state of ‘almost funny.’ Everything seemed to somehow be both too small to matter and too big to overcome. He wanted to laugh at the way she echoed him, but he wanted to cry about it, too.

So he did what he always did, which was to say nothing at all. He stood, suspended somewhere between past and present, watching both play out at once. Ariadne stood in front of him, looking uncomfortable because he’d made her that way. Rhett was off to the side, bloody and half dead with his leg detached from his body. Ariadne echoed the words that he said, shifting her weight like she wasn’t sure what to do with the thing that was her body. Juliana rotted in a corner, reminding him firmly that she never would have ended up like this if not for him.

There was nothing alive in this yard, he realized with that same faint sense of almost-humor. Juliana was a ghost, Flora was a ghost, Ariadne was a ghost, Emilio was a ghost. They were all haunting or haunted or both, and it was a lot to juggle. She echoed him, her words cutting through the quiet, and Emilio took too long to respond. His eyes kept darting to the corpses that weren’t really there, his mind too stuck in the state of like this to break itself free of it.

She said something else, and it took him a moment to register that it was in response to him, a reply instead of an echo. The words seemed to float around, and he grabbed them out of order and arranged them into a sentence like he was working a puzzle. It took a moment for it to register, took another for him to translate it into something he could understand. When he finally digested it, he let out a strangled sound that might have been a laugh or a sob or some unholy combination of the two. “Is my own fault,” he replied in a murmur, because it was. Most things were, really.

It was a pretty easy conclusion to come to. His leg got fucked in the massacre. The massacre happened because of him. Someone loved him enough to burn the world down for him, and either it was his fault for making Lucio love him or it was his fault for making it necessary for the world to burn in order for him to survive but either way, the blame belonged solely on his shoulders. His knee was fucked. Even if he’d gotten proper medical care immediately after it happened, it would have never been the same. Because he’d avoided that medical care, because he’d known he hadn’t deserved it, the limb was worse off than it would have been. That was his fault, too. So his knee was fucked, his daughter was dead, his uncle loved him, Rhett had left, and all of those things were his fault. The blame belonged solely on his shoulders because there was no one left alive to help carry it. He was alone. He was always alone when he was like this.

There was more speaking, more words to grab and reorder and translate, and he was exhausted but he did it anyway. For Wynne, who loved Ariadne. For Ariadne, who had had terrible things happen to her that she hadn’t deserved. For the people he’d gotten killed in that massacre, who couldn’t hear anything at all anymore. Didn’t he owe it to them to listen? To carry every ounce of the weight they weren’t alive to share on his back? He was supposed to suffer. He knew that. He’d earned his suffering bit by bit. He couldn’t shrug it off now.

As good as your house. That was the gist of it, he thought. She said this house was as good as his, because it was Teddy’s and Teddy loved him. And Emilio thought, again, of the massacre that happened because someone loved him too much. He thought of Rhett’s leg rotting in a corner because someone loved Ariadne too much, too. He thought of how love wasn’t some great and righteous thing after all, about how most days, it was a prelude to something awful just waiting to be done in its name. Was it good, to be loved? In this moment, it didn’t feel like it. In this moment, he thought loving someone might be the worst thing you could do to them.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled. He didn’t know if he meant the yard or Teddy’s house or Wicked’s Rest or alive or all of them at once. Flora’s body flickered in his peripheral vision, twisted and broken and so goddamn small. He turned his head towards it, staring blankly at the spot for a moment. Her face shifted into Nora’s, into Wynne’s, into Ariadne’s, too. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said again. The body was Flora again. It always was, in the end.

He forced himself to turn his head back towards Ariadne, towards the dead girl who was here and talking to him instead of the one that was imagined and rotting in the corner. Ariadne was trying to help, and the feeling of funny-not-funny returned in a rush so intense that he let out a strangled laugh. Ariadne was trying to help him. His brother locked her in a van and tried to starve her to death, or to re-death, or to whatever you called a dead thing dying, and Ariadne was trying to help him. Was it selfish to stand here, to let her say kind things when he deserved so much less? He shouldn’t be here. The thought echoed again.

“I’m going to go,” he said, and his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. He wasn’t there in the yard anymore, even if his body still haunted the space. “I’m going to go,” he repeated. “You can stay here. I’m going to go.” He turned to do just that, pain radiating through his leg. It made him snap back to himself a little, and he liked that. He put a little extra weight on it, stumbling as he stepped forward. The world went white for a moment, static at the edge of his vision, then fizzed back into color. “I’m sorry,” he told Ariadne. “Have a nice night. I’m sorry.” And then, he was off — not towards the house, but towards the road. He’d find something else to keep his mind occupied this evening. It was all he was capable of doing now.

#ariadnewhitlock #ariadne: a haunting #wickedswriting

7 notes · View notes