#Martin sounded scared. or at the very least nervous when talking on the phone with whoever

[bitter-goodbyes]

I still can’t get over Elias being an avatar for The Eye tbh, that was sooooo hype!!!!!! Just. Him knowing about Prentiss and Not Sasha and just. Everything!!!!!!! That was such a good plot decision!!!!!!

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Overworked Prompt fill for @haunted-by-catholic-guilt​ @celosiaa​ for the bingo

SEND ME SOME MORE PROMPTS IF YOU LIKE!!!!!!

It’s evening.  At least Martin thinks it is.  He’s rather lost track.  Time stopped making sense for him a while ago.  Had it really only been this morning when he was in his office, doing an endless stream of meaningless paperwork? 

Weeks and weeks and weeks and months and months and months of small meaningless tasks.  

He really hadn’t thought about it until now.  Is it really that much work to fill out a single form?  It shouldn’t be.  It isn’t.  But the sheer number of them… that’s what makes it drudgery.  Makes minutes and hours stretch beyond all logical comprehension.  Not to mention the endless intrusions of Peter Lukas.  

No.  Not thinking about that.  He’s …dead?  Right?  

Martin isn’t sure.  In the Lonely… out of the Lonely.  Everything a blur.  A cold, miserable, sandy blur.  And all he wants to do is sleep, but apparently that isn’t happening.  His brain is still trying to catalogue the endless, meaningless tasks he is leaving behind.  Still trying to run the budget and the expenses, and the personal reports that have been sliding over his desk for months.  

Paperwork heavy on the brain… heavy on the body.  Especially when that body has nothing to look forward to at his empty flat with its empty fridge and its empty bed.  

He is very tired.  

He can’t shake the feeling that this is a vaguely unsettling dream that he will wake up from in that cold and empty bed and search for breakfast in that empty fridge (because breakfast is the most important meal of the day, some distant parental voice tells him every morning even though the thought often turns his stomach) and hurry out of his empty flat for his empty office and that infernal ticking clock.  Measuring out every word he types.  Every breath he draws.  Every paper he signs.  Every spreadsheet he makes.  Every thought of Jon that he carefully does not think.  

‘For all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.’  

Had he heard Jon say that once?  A quote from a play that Jon liked.  Hadn’t he read it to impress Jon, once upon a time?  A lifetime ago?  A death-time ago?  Three deaths ago?  

“‘For all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.’”  He says it out loud, this time.  The first words to drop from his still frozen lips after leaving that Forsaken place.  Was?  Was that a joke?  

Jon’s head shoots up.  His eyes are wide and locked on Martin’s.  (Not that that is new, Martin keeps catching him staring.  Even as he tears around the archives gathering clothes and and statements and toiletries.  (Has Jon really just been living here?)  “Was that… that was… did you?”  

Martin blinks at him.  It might be his exhaustion making whatever Jon is trying to say incomprehensible, or it might be Jon’s exhaustion, for that matter.  

“That was Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,” Jon eventually stutters out, looking dumbstruck, half of a jumper that Martin thought he had lost sticking half out of a very battered backpack.  “You read it?”

Martin doesn’t have the energy for more words.  He nods.  

“I didn’t know you read it!”  Jon has perked up considerably.  “I read it in primary school, maybe a bit dark for a child, but my grandmother just bought me what was inexpensive… I was actually in it in uni….”

Martin would very much like to be paying attention to what had to be one of the most verbal and sharing Jon moments he has been witness to, but he’s very tired and it just sounds like white noise and he’s still thinking about that ticking clock floors above and an office he won’t go back to and paperwork that will never be finished and a half finished granola bar he had in his drawer for emergencies.  He could get his phone charger and laptop, in fact Jon probably already had… but ….but all that work.  All that he has done and all that he hasn’t… it’s all there.  And it’s going to stay there.  And Martin very much has not accepted that he doesn’t need to finish it.  Because he has been told every day in every email that he needs to finish it.  That there is a never ending stream of work that he can never catch up with that he can never overtake.  So he stayed long hours, turning himself into quite the hypocrite.  And Jon is still talking, his too-tiny form slightly revitalized with his excitement and nervous energy as he continues to pack.  

They are in a car.  Daisy’s, Martin thinks.  And Jon is still talking.  Possibly still about the play?  Possibly not.  Martin can’t tell.  He thinks he just heard Jon mention something about Scotland being a conspiracy of cartographers?  Is that right?  

Martin barely feels like he is there.  Is he tangible?  Or no… that isn’t what he is wondering.  He feels TOO tangible.  Too heavy but still not solid.  Like he is a wavering stack of signatures and numbers instead of a person.  Just a vehicle for meaningless work.  A thought that makes him dead tired.  What is he without that structure, those spreadsheets.  He has lost himself in the lines and fine print.  And he doesn’t know what is left.  Half fog.  Half paperwork.  All gritty eyed, and salty haired, and bone-weary.  

Jon has stopped talking.  He is… a passible driver.  Passible at best.  Having run himself out of things to say, the exhaustion is creeping back in.  His hands shake slightly on the wheel and they still have to stop by Martin’s sad, empty flat before they can leave London and make the terribly long drive to wherever it is they are going.  And Martin doesn’t have it in him to drive, and even if he did, he really really shouldn’t.  An ex boyfriend had tried to teach him once.  Once when he thought maybe he could drive a cab and maybe that would bring in enough money to fill his stomach, but that relationship didn’t last, and Martin was still scared shitless of driving anywhere but an empty suburb going 32 km/h or less.  

He curls around himself, trying to ward off the guilt that starts to gnaw at him then.  Jon shouldn’t have to drive the whole way.  Jon is exhausted.  And they don’t even have time to spend the night somewhere.  At least… that’s what Martin managed to get from the conversation with Basira that he… had technically been physically present for.  

No.  No.  No.  He’s fine.  He can pack.  He will Not make Jon do that for him.  Jon is clearly shaking.  Jon can take a shower and have a nap on his sofa (or his bed a little part of his brain says, leading to a dangerous heat in his cheeks) while Martin packs.  He can pack his own clothes.

 But they are at his flat now.  And Martin can hardly drag himself out of the car and up the two flights of stairs (broken lift).  His head is swimming and his limbs are heavy.  He sits heavily on the couch to gather himself, and Jon is already rushing around riffling through his things, stuffing jumpers and boxers and binders and socks and tea into a duffle bag that has seen better days.  He can’t bring himself to be embarrassed.  He wishes he could help.  

Then there is tea in his hands.  Made completely wrong, but Martin appreciates the effort.  and there are their bags at his feet and Jon is next to him.  There is no distance between them, and Jon leans into his side and Martin finds himself holding back tears.  Or failing to hold back tears.  In any case, he is tired and his face is wet and Jon is shaking slightly against his side and he can’t tell if this is the worst he has ever felt or the happiest he has ever been.  Perhaps both at once.  

Jon is easing him to his feet, nudging him towards the shower so he can wash the sea-salt from his eyelashes and hair.  

Martin is in his shower.

Martin is divested of binder and in an overlarge hoodie.  Hair wet but not salty.  He can’t help trying to picture Jon in that jumper.  Even large on Martin, Jon would be swallowed whole by it.  Jon is in his shower.  In his (Martin’s) less empty flat.  But his flat is hollowed out and gutted.  Jon asked him about 20 times if he would be alright on his own while separated by running water and water vapor and a door.  Martin had nodded each of those times.  Clinging to the sounds of Jon singing softly through the door.  

Martin gets the feeling that Jon is doing that just to ground him and Martin can’t say that he minds.  He wish Jon doesn’t need to, but he is grateful.  

He is coming down from a panic attack, and Jon is done in the shower but has yet to return.  Martin feels like he has been hard reset.  He is curled up on his couch.  The last of his possessions have been packed.  He isn’t going back to work.  He can rest.  Well… soon.  He can rest in the car.  He can rest in Scotland.  They both can, with any luck.  

Jon is coming out of his washroom, drying his hair and in another jumper Martin thought he lost months ago.  

Jon is in front of him, hovering and looking like he isn’t sure if he is allowed to touch.  Martin reaches out and grasps his fluttering hands.  And Jon sinks to the floor in front of him.  

They are in the car.  Martin is dozing against the window on the passenger side.  Jon is behind the wheel.  They are holding hands.  

[obscureoperations]

i’ve had this random concept in my head of martin talking about his s/o on the radio and s/o hearing it and figuring out he’s the count possibly confronting him etc

Oh my god I love this idea! Some of my favorite scenes were when he was on the phone. The way the radio station was his outlet. I know he would talk to them if he met someone. Not completed, there will definitely be a part two. I’m in the middle of trying to go through my asks.

~ For the most part things had been going quite well, you had been seeing Martin for a little over a month. You first noticed him when you went into Cuda’s shop, he seemed to notice you as well, he was extremely flustered when you stepped to the check out. You made small talk as he bagged your items, he seemed to go out of his way not to look at you. When he finally did, you were taken aback, he was even more breathtaking up close. You made it a point to stop in almost every other day, eventually the two of you built up a sort of friendship. He told you when he was off, when he would usually go on break...after a few weeks you finally asked him out. You were a nervous wreck for some reason, even though he knew the worst he could do was say no. He agreed instantly, and things pretty much bloomed from there. At this point the two of you were practically inseparable.

You made it a point to get him away from the hose, you started to look at the old man in a different light. If Cuda was as bad as Martin said, you didn’t even feel comfortable spending money at the shop. Your relationship turned physical faster than you liked to admit, but being with Martin felt so natural. There was a certain type of innocence about him--but at times you felt as though he was hiding something. 

He canceled plans with you a couple nights ago, which was odd--he usually went out of his way just to see you. You tried not to give it much thought,after all he had his own life. He claimed it had something to do with the family. He made up for it ten fold the very next day, he didn’t leave your side until right before dinner. 

You were supposed to see him later tonight. He told you that he would crawl out of his window and meet you around ten. You already knew what that meant. He wanted to stay the night, and that was completely fine. You had the day off from work and kept yourself mostly preoccupied. Running errands, tidying up. You wouldn’t have to do laundry for weeks. A strange sort of anticipation bubbled at the pit of your stomach for mostly the entire day. You were excited to see him sure--but there was something else. He had been acting pretty strange lately. He was more tired than usual, shaky almost jittery. He seemed to be more prone to headaches. The light really bothered his eyes, he was thirstier than normal, when the two of you were together he was more dominant than you were used to. You knew he couldn’t possibly be on drugs. You planned to ask him if anything was wrong tonight--if there was you could surely help.

It was about eight thirty when you flounced onto the bed, already eagerly glancing over to the clock. Questions had been forming in your head for most of the day and at this point you just wanted to know if something was wrong. With a sigh, you decided to turn on the radio, maybe some music would calm your thoughts. You ended up settling on your favorite talk radio station-- you were so preoccupied lately you hadn’t listened to it in weeks.

“Alright guys looks like we have a special treat, Guess who’s decided to grace us with his presence tonight?!”

This weird cheesy spooky tone starts to play in the background “You guessed right...it’s the Count!”

Your eyebrow immediately shot up towards your forehead, you remember listening to that guy. You followed his story intently, it was in fact a little before you met Martin. The guy was odd...to say the least--but if anything a brilliant storyteller. He claimed to be some sort of vampire, he needed blood to survive--he’d been around for eighty four years. He would stalk his victims before sedating them with some type of drug-- after that he would drink their blood. It was… interesting to say the least. Not your typical idea of a vampire, but he always stressed that it’s not like in the movies. He didn’t have a whole lot of women fawning over him desperate for him to take them in the middle of the night. If anything, he just seemed like this lonely kid, you almost felt bad--he seemed to really believe what he was saying. You always tried to picture what he would look like. He had this odd...cryptic way of speaking. He almost reminded you of Martin in the way that he would phrase things. You knew it was virtually impossible. Imagine you dating an actual ‘’vampire’’

“It’s been a good while Count, how the hell are ya?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Alright Man! We were starting to get a bit worried, you pretty much vanished for a month. Our listeners were getting antsy!”

“They were?” You had to bite down on the insides of your cheeks. He sounded genuinely confused, it was actually pretty adorable.

“Yeah man! Every other day.. “Hey you guys hear from the Count… whatever happened to the count? Do you think he got caught?!”

“I’m fine… I’m always fine.”

“Good! Thats  really good. Ya gotta tell us, what the hell has been goin on with you? You scope out any new victims… are ya feeling shakey? What’s happenin’??”

“Well.. yes and no. I haven’t really felt shaky until recently. But thats all over now. I’m okay.”

“Ohhh did you find a new one? A pretty lady perhaps?”

“No! I-I mean… It was just a bum. I can’t really stalk them like I used to. I just really needed blood.”

“You can’t stalk them...what does that mean? The cops onto you?” Obnoxious fake sirens begin to play.

He’s silent for a moment. “Shit… too much I think we lost him. Count...Count are you there?”

“I’m  here.” He says after a moment. You were on your stomach, clutching a pillow beneath your chin. The more and more he spoke, his voice began to sound so familiar. 

“I sort of met someone…’

More obnoxious sound effects, you can hear bursts of confetti  and party horns.You rolled your eyes, you wanted him to ‘speak’ Why did he suddenly sound so much like Martin?

“You met someone Count?! See I told ya man...just give it some time. When did you meet em?”

“About two months ago..” Your heart instantly sunk. It wasn’t possible, nope. No way in hell.

“How did you meet them?”

“I-  It was through work. They came in, and they were so pretty. I just---”

He’s silent for a long while.  Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. You remember hearing him talk about someone who was new in town shortly before you and Martin first  met. He told the hosts that he saw them at the train station, he instantly just knew that they were for him. Jay and Rick continued to ask probing questions. Asking if he meant that he found his next victim. The Count vehemently denied, simply stating that they were simply beautiful. He just wanted to learn more. You had arrived in Braddock about three months ago, you tried your damndest to recall the train ride. Did you see anyone who looked remotely like Martin? The answer was no. Surely you would have spotted him.

“ So you’re seeing someone Count… what are they like?!”

“They’re amazing.” He answers immediately this time. 

“They like to talk a lot, but it’s okay. I can tell they really listen to me…”

“Count, you sound smitten. ���

“I am. I get to see them later tonight.”

If you weren't already sitting down, you were sure that you would have fainted. There were hardly any questions now. This had to be Martin. You wanted to puke, yet you were almost relieved. Shortly before you met you were listening to the Count in a certain way. You were repulsed by his actions, but his story intrigued you. If you really thought about it, you had developed a bit of a crush.

“So tell us more.. Do they know how you feel?”

“I think so. I haven’t really thought about blood since we started doing the sexy stuff..”

More fake confetti and sirens, you roll your eyes. At this point, you were convinced that you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real, absolutely not. Martin?

“Oh ho hooo… so it’s like that? Do you see things progressing?”

“I do, I really do. But- I’m scared.”

“Scared of what man?”

Radio static, he’s silent for an inordinate amount of time. At this point you were practically trembling. A whirlwind of emotions. Shock, betrayal, disgust, and relief. You really needed to talk to him right now.

“I’m scared because I think I’ve fallen in love.. A- and when I tell them… I’m gonna tell them. About me. I just know they’re going to leave.”

You continued to lay in the same position for a little over an hour. So that was it. You were right. You had no idea when tears began to spill from your eyes, but they did,they practically soaked through the pillow. You couldn't find it in you to move, or even fetch the glass of water that you  so desperately craved. Your throat was dry, you had no idea why you were so upset-- Rather you did. 

Why couldn’t he just tell you?

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest when you hear a faint tap at the window.  You bolt up almost instantly, desperately wiping at your eyes. You looked a mess, there was no way to hide the fact  that you had been crying. With a deep breath, you unlock the window,

[1-800-hellraiser]

I don't want to set the world on fire (Jeff the Killer x reader x BEN Drowned)

Requested by: no one

Words: 2,273

Genre: Lots of angst (itty bitty bit of fluff at the end)

Associated song: I don't to set the world on fire - The Ink Spots

!TW! Swearing, yelling, arguing, all that tomfoolery. 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

"I've lost all ambition and worthy acclaim, I just wanna be the one you love"

   You step down the concrete stairs of your apartment building. Your boyfriend, Jeff, wanted to meet at the nearby park. He said he wanted to introduce you to someone. You know Jeff works with a lot of people, so you're excited to get to know one of his acquaintances. You pull up the hood of your f/c (favorite color) hoodie, since your s/t (skin tone) ears are getting cold.

   You pop some earbuds into your ears and play some music as you walk to the park. Thinking a bit more about Jeff's acquaintances, you know of one in particular, because he's your mutual friend. That's how you and Jeff met, actually. 

   BEN was actually coming to kill you, but you threw something sharp at him. It stabbed him in the eye, and he had to take a break. So, the mission was given to Jeff. After about a week of fighting every night, you both just decided to stop and become friends. Hell, you became even more somehow.

   You and BEN have been friends ever since he tried to kill you. He comes through your laptop sometimes, although most of the time, he comes through your T.V. You chill together and watch movies, play video games, and just veg out until you both fall asleep. He's also been through a lot with you, every fight you and Jeff had, work and school related stress, nightmares, everything! 

   So, why are you with Jeff and not BEN? Jeff asked you out, you don't think BEN likes you. You just think BEN is your best friend. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you...right?

   BEN lays silently on his bed. He's internally kicking his own ass for not telling you about who Jeff actually was. There's a lot you don't know about Jeff. You're the type of person to wait until someone opens up to you. You don't know that when Jeff's not around you, he's an arrogant, self-centered, asswipe. 

   BEN rolls off his bed, and gets up to go get some food. He wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bowl from the cupboard. A bowl of cereal at 2 pm (14:00) sounds very tasty right about now. He takes the milk carton from the fridge and some Cheerios. 

   BEN plops himself into a chair and starts to munch on his Cheerios. Most of the other pastas and proxies are out on missions. The rest of the pastas and proxies, including BEN, have their day off today. 

   As BEN isn't paying attention and spacing out, Sally hops into the chair next to him at the table. "Hi BEN! Whatcha doin'?" "Ah!" BEN squeaks, almost spilling his cereal. BEN composes himself and glances at the small brunette next to him. "Thinking about a friend." Sally looks up at BEN in curiosity.

   "Who?" Sally tilts her head like a confused puppy. BEN takes another spoonful of Cheerios and shoves them in his mouth. "A girl I became friends with on that one mission. The girl that stabbed me in the eye." BEN explains to the young girl. "Ohhhhh, her. Yeah I remember." BEN nods and swallows the cereal he was eating. 

    Something suddenly clicks in Sally's little noggin. She grows a sly smirk and her eyes become half lidded. She sets her head in her little palm. "You like her don't you?" The young brunette teases. BEN almost spits out his cereal, his face begins to grow red. Sally keeps smiling slyly as BEN tries to explain himself.

   As soon as he gets his bearings, BEN realizes he cant explain himself. He does like you. The tingle in his chest when he's around you. The butterflies he gets when you talk to him. How sweaty his hands get when you text him. How could he have been so blind, he likes, no, loves you.

  BEN sighs and runs his hand through his greasy, blond locks. "I may or may not..." Sally giggles at BEN. "Oh come onnnnnnnnn" Sally's green eyes make contact with BEN's red ones "I know you do. I think you should tell her how you feel." BEN's face gets red and his heart drops. 

   "I can't really do that Sally." BEN states dejectedly, Sally cocks her head at his words. "Why not?" Sally prods further. "She's, Jeff's girlfriend..." Sally looks at BEN with wide eyes. "I didn't know he had a girlfriend, I didn't even think he could get one..." BEN snorts at Sally's remark as he gets up to put his bowl in the sink. 

   Suddenly, an idea pops into BEN's head. He could just tell you how Jeff acts when he's not around you. To be fair, you probably won't believe him, but has to at least try. BEN says goodbye to Sally and semi - confidently walks back into his room. He decides to wait until 5 pm (17:00) to come over. 

   You finally arrive at the park Jeff told you to go to. It is a bit far from your apartment building, but you don't care. You text Jeff to see where he wants to meet you. As you wait for is text, you wander around, admiring the scene.

   There are children running round as they're parents sit on the public benches and chat. There are people with they're dogs (on leashes, of course) and an opening to a forest area. You're getting more interested in the forest, but before you start walking towards it, you get a text back from Jeff. 

   'Meet me by the entrance of the forest'. His text is vague, but you know what he means. You silently walk over to the entrance of the forest. Jeff comes into view along with a female. She has long, almost tomato red hair, a pale complexion, and is about 5'2. She is wearing a denim jean jacket, a black tank top underneath, jeans and a pair of black Doc Martins. 

   You come closer to the pair, noticing Jeff has his arm around the girl. You falter for a minute, before shrugging it off as 'they must be good friends'. Once you get to Jeff and the girl, you notice the female's beautiful green eyes. Her eyes are piercing right through you, in almost a judgmental way. 

   You push the thought away as Jeff introduces you to the girl. Her name is Zoe, a very pretty name. "So, Jeff, what do you want to do here?" You ask innocently, Jeff smirks at you. "Well, I wanted to talk, about our relationship specifically." Your heart drops and you feel the blood drain from tour face. 

   "Oh, uh, ok! What did you want to talk about." You ask, still trying to be optimistic about this situation. Although, you have an idea of where this is going. "Well, I'm breaking up with you, for Zoe. I wanted to tell you in person." Jeff explains, as you stand there dumbly. 

   After you process what he just said, you are livid. "Wow, ok, so, you thought it would be a great idea to have me walk for about a half a mile (0.8 kilometers) just for you to break it off? And, if that wasn't enough you have to bring your girlfriend along with you?" You sneer at Jeff.

  "What the hell man? Like, it would've been better to break it off over the phone, rather than this shit being pulled." You continue, relentlessly. Jeff cuts in "babe, listen, I-" "No! You pull this shit and still have the brass balls to call me babe?! Get bent, Jeff." You finish, flipping him off as you retreat back to your apartment building. 

   As soon as you enter your apartment, you break down. You cry until you're dehydrated. After wallowing in a bundle of blankets for about an hour, you get up to check the time. It is four thirty, you sigh and get up to get some food. Food doesn't solve ALL your problems, but it does solve some of them. 

   You sigh as you stare into a fridge with only a few water bottles and some shredded cheese. You grab a water bottle, then close your fridge and trudge back to your room. You decide to order some food, but you don't know where from. 

   After about 30 minutes, BEN pops out of your T.V. and scares the shit out of your indecisive ass. "What's poppin' Y/n?" BEN asks, sitting next to you on your bed. "Nothin' much, just trying to decide on what to eat for dinner." BEN's eyes light up "CAN WE GET MCDONALD'S?!" You flinch at the sound of BEN's excitement. 

   "Pfft, yeah, we can." You open a handy dandy app on your phone that lets you order from almost any restaurant in your area. You pick out what you want and hand your phone over to BEN when you're done. You got some f/f (favorite food) and BEN got chicken nuggets. 

  "Its gonna take 45 minutes to get here." You inform, BEN groans. You chuckle at his childish nature. "You wanna play some Smash while we wait?" You ask, grabbing you and BEN a controller. "Hell yeah! Imma wipe the floor with your ass!" "Don't be so cocky BEN." You retort sassily. 

   "BRO LITERALLY HOW." BEN yells in frustration, you giggle at him. "I told you not to be so cocky~" You taunt he crosses his arms and pouts. You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. You her a knock at your door and both you and BEN perk up. "I'll be right back, the food's here." You rise up off your semi-stiff mattress and walk out of your room. 

   BEN lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He decided to tell you after about Jeff. He had noticed that you were crying. He noticed your puffy eyes, the unwiped tear streaks, your shaking. He didn't say anything because he wanted to make you feel a little bit better, but he also wants to tell you the truth. 

   You come back with a McDonald's back full of greasy, unhealthy, yet delicious food. BEN licks his lips as you hand him his chicken nuggets. You take out f/f and take a bite. Your mouth salivates even more as you take a bite of the lovely food. 

   After you two are finished, you took the trash out of your room so it won't attract ants or roaches. BEN starts sweating and his heart beats against his rib cage. "Hey, Y/n, can I talk to you about something?" He tries his best to make sure he doesn't look nervous. "Yeah, what's up?" BEN gulps and prepares for the worst.

   "Ok, I wanted to tell you Jeff isn't what he seems. He's an arrogant, asshat that doesn't care about others emotions. He thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread-" "oh yeah I know," BEN stops in his tracks. "Y-you know?" He stutters, looking at you with pure confusion on his features. "Yeah, he broke up with me for a much prettier girl, he name is Zoe, I believe." 

   BEN stares at you in disbelief, not because of the break up between you and Jeff. It's because you weren't breaking down. "A-are you doing okay?" BEN asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Kinda, I broke down earlier about it, but I think I'm fine now." BEN nods and scoots a bit closer to you. 

   "Ok, well, I-I wanted to ask you something. To be fair, it is a bit, sudden and early, and its okay if you don't feel the same." BEN looks at you with a cute blush spreading across his left cheek, over his button nose, to his right cheek. "What do you mean,?" You ask, cocking your head. BEN holds in a breath, and then lets it go. 

   "Y-Y/n, I came over to ask you, if y-you'd be my girlfriend." As soon as those words exit BEN's mouth, he shrinks down in fear of what you'll say. You give BEN a look of sympathy. You gently scoot closer to him, and wrap your arms around him, holding him close to your chest.

   BEN slowly un-tesnses his muscles and wraps his arms around your waist. Burying his head into your shoulder. He breathes into your shirt, your shirt smells like fresh linen laundry soap. He loves that laundry soap. You rub soothing circles on your best friend's back. "I'm so sorry BEN, I had no idea you felt this way." You whisper soothingly. BEN starts to get his hopes up. 

"I don't think I like you like that, BEN."

  BEN's heart drops immediately. He holds on to you tighter. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, BEN blaming himself for catching feelings. You know however, what he's doing.

  "BEN, hun, please don't blame yourself, I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better," you pull away from BEN's grasp, he looks you in the eyes, "we can still be friends." BEN accepts your offer and pulls you into another tight embrace. "Thank you Y/n. God, your the best friend I could ever ask for."

[eliasbouchardisarobloxthot]

chapter 1 of an au i am writing

this is jokingly titled “power of friendship au” in my doc, but that’s essentially it - tim, sasha, and jon (for now) team up while they’re all still interns to befriend all of the creatures they meet!  the timeline is obviously a bit different from tma canon, but it will still be mostly non-spoiler. this chapter in particular has only mid-early season one spoilers, so you all should be fine! as usual, under the cut...

"We are not supposed to be doing this," Tim hissed, but he made no move to run.

Jon wasn’t listening. The box of cigarettes in his hand was nearly crushed, but he stood his ground as they made their way to Old Fishmarket Close.

"Do you really think we're gonna—" Sasha's voice wavered. "I mean, the file in Gertrude's office said it’s not—it isn’t always there, right?”

“We’re going to find it,” he said resolutely. The hills were high, higher than any of them had expected, but they managed to make their way up to the alleyway that was listed on the map.

It was dark out. Jon convinced them all earlier that day to come with him and help after they left for the night, and Tim was doing a very bad job of hiding the fact that it made him incredibly nervous to be out this late. The streets were nearly empty—at nine o’clock on a Tuesday evening, no one was going to be out and about.

A quiet voice echoed from in the alleyway—”Can I have a cigarette?”

Sasha screamed. In her haste to wrap herself around Tim for safety, she nearly hit him in the face. Somehow, though, Jon stood his ground.

“You can have a cigarette if you come out of the alleyway. We know what you are. We just want to talk.” He set the pack of cigarettes down just a bit out of reach, then sat down in front of the alley with his legs crossed. “We can wait here all night.”

“Wait, what? Maybe you can, but some of us have work tomorrow. Or have you forgotten about our literal job? The one we met at? Earth to Jon, but we do still have to work. In the twenty minutes it took us to get here, capitalism as an institution has not yet been overthrown.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.” Jon sat there staring at the alleyway. “Come out of the alley now, please.”

His stare was incredibly intense, seeming to cut through the darkness obscuring the figure and illuminate the alley. As they sat there in the alley, a voice that was most certainly not the one from before—and was also certainly not human—echoed out from the alley.

“Fine.”

“Come out where I can see you,” Jon said. 

The vaguely human silhouette in the alley warped and twisted, changing from human to inhuman in barely a second. It skulked out of the alley, sitting down across from Jonathan.

He could see how from certain angles it could maybe look sort of human. If it tried. It reminded him of one of those optical illusion sculptures in museums—from one angle, it looked like a giraffe, from the other two elephants. Except from one angle, this thing was human, and from the other… well, most definitely not.

“Do you have a name?” Jon asked. Somewhere, quiet static hummed. 

“No,” it said. “You call me the Anglerfish, though.”

“Do you want a name?”

“Maybe. If you pick a good one.” 

“Louis,” Tim said.

“Felix,” Sasha said at the same time.

“No,” the Anglerfish said, decisively.

“You’re a fish, right? What if we just call you Ariel?” Sasha tilted her head to one side, thinking hard. “You look like an Ariel.”

“Ariel as in The Tempest?” Jon asked, looking confused. “I mean, sure, the water reference is there—”

“Ariel as in The Little Mermaid, you fucking idiot,” Tim said with a sigh that could have shaken the city down. 

“Never seen it.”

“What’s a mermaid?” the Anglerfish asked, testing the word out in its human voice. 

“Oh my god. Firstly, your name is Ariel now.” Tim pointed at the Anglerfish. “Secondly, you get a pass for not knowing because you’re a spooky monster thing. Thirdly, Jon, how have you not seen The Little Mermaid? Did you just straight-up not have a childhood?”

Jon didn’t reply.

“So we’re going to my apartment and renting it off Netflix and—I can’t believe I’m having a slumber party! I’m not a kid anymore… but it’s necessary. Objectively speaking.” Sasha looped her arm through Jon’s, pulling him to his feet. 

“Are we sure this is necessary?”

“Yes,” Sasha said, glaring at Tim. “I think I actually have some microwave popcorn we can make, do a full movie night.” 

Jon sighed, following Sasha as best he could.

“What’s a movie?” Ariel asked quickly. “What are those?”

“You have a lot to learn,” Sasha said, with a wide grin. “But if you like it here and want to talk about it more, then… well, you can just chill with us!”

—

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Patel? Amy Patel?”

“Alright, Amy, and do you think you can tell me some more about how this all happened? I know you gave your statement to Gertrude already, but—”

“Oh, no, it’s no trouble,” Amy said, gesturing into her flat. “I moved, but I still have my address down if you want me to give it to you. And, er, the flat that used to be Graham’s, I can get you that address too if you need it.”

Sasha shook her head. “You don’t have to give us all that. Just by letting us in you’re doing enough already.” 

Amy smiled in that bemused sort of way that older adults tended to smile at younger ones, with a look in her eyes that said something like “who are these little children and why are they trying to be professional around me?” 

“We should—I should have introduced myself.” Jon gestured to Tim and Sasha. “That’s Tim Stoker, this is Sasha James, and I’m Jonathan Sims—we work with the Magnus Institute, under the head archivist. We’re only interns, though.”

“I’d noticed,” she said. “Come on, sit down. I’ll put on some tea if you’d like?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Sasha said before the others could interject. “Now, can you tell us a bit more about your experience with Graham?”

“Oh, well, where to begin,” Amy said, pouring milk into a saucepan on the stove. “I mean, I’ve told you basically everything in my statement already. You contacted me saying there was an update a while back, but honestly I’d almost forgotten about it. The whole thing. It was a few years ago now, so… yeah.”

“Alright. Um. Do you—can you tell us anything about what you do now? Like, the sorts of jobs you’ve been doing, or—”

“Yeah, uh… yeah. Like I said in my statement, I do statistical analysis mostly. Been taking a few more classes sort of in the field of criminal studies—” she waved her hand— “all that sort of stuff. I actually did take a liking to it, might try working with that sort of stuff in the near future. I’m already looking for applications."

"That's very interesting, Amy," Jon said, fidgeting with the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. 

"It really is," she said as she strained the chai, setting four mugs on the table and sitting down next to them. 

Jonathan had taken the box of cigarettes out, and was now shaking them absentmindedly a few centimeters away from his face as he thought.

"Oh, can you not smoke in here?" Amy asked quickly. "It's just—my landlord hates when people smoke inside, we have an area over outside for it—"

"I don't smoke," Jon said, looking somewhat confused. Sasha took the cigarettes from,him and put them in her pocket.

"They're for our friend Ariel, Jon just carries them for it."

"It?" Amy looked more confused than ever.

"She eats them," Tim explained. "And she told us to call her 'she' in front of other people, Sasha."

By this point, Amy had taken a long drink of chai.

"You kids work with monsters. Right? All those things in the statements. Other people have to have given statements, there's got to be some others that are true."

Jon nodded solemnly. "We've been looking into other cases with provable aspects—yours does, by the way, we know yours is at least partially true." 

"How comforting," Amy said with a wry smile.

“And… well, this is going to sound very bad, but I would prefer it if Tim stopped sleeping with people to get information.”

“Hey! That was one time!” 

Amy laughed. “So you’re asking me to help you get information. Right?”

Jon nodded, having started to fidget with the cuffs of his shirt once Sasha had taken away the cigarette box. 

“I mean, I do have access to quite a few databases. If you wanted my help, though, you’ll have to promise something.” It sounded like she was talking to some unruly teenagers. 

“Certainly.” He tried to look as professional as possible.

“Please just take care of yourselves,” Amy said with a sigh. “You guys are just kids and you’re running yourselves into the ground, and you’re putting so much work into this—I’m scared you’re going to either get hurt by one of these things or hurt yourselves trying to befriend them.” 

“I—” Jon tugged at the button on his sleeve for a moment. “I understand where you’re coming from here, I really do, but there’s, there’s just so many and I want to give them a chance. Because we still have to—if there’s any chance they’re a good person, deep down, I want to help them.”

Amy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “If you’re serious about this—”

“We are,” Sasha said quickly. 

“Then I’ll help you.” She picked up a pad of paper sitting on the table and scribbled something on it in smooth, curling handwriting. “That’s my phone number for my work phone, just call it if you need anything. I usually have it on me.”

She thought for a moment. “Give me a sec. You’ll want this.” 

Leaving Jon, Tim, and Martin alone at the table, she walked into her bedroom and returned carrying what appeared to be a very old, very worn-out three-ring notebook. There were dividers of various colors separating things, a bookmark that was just a piece of ribbon stapled into the spine, and a label on the front that read “MONSTERS”. 

Jon flipped through it quickly, looking through the sections. The dividers were labeled with different numbers, and at the front was a table of contents with each number labeled with a small explanation of each different number. 

“This is incredible, Amy,” he said, turning the pages reverently. “There’s so much detail here—this could be more than we have at the Institute, really.”

“Well, I have had a bit of help,” she said amusedly. Opening up the cover, she moved her hand over something inside and set it down on the table. As she did, the inside cover was revealed.

“Is that skin?” Tim asked, looking disgusted. “Ew.”

“What, am I too gross for you?” a voice suddenly said. Sitting on Amy’s sofa was a man who looked to be about Tim’s age, with his hair long and poorly dyed black. All of his joints were tattooed with tiny open eyes, and he wore dark eye makeup in circles around his eyes that trailed down his face. The clothes he wore were ripped and tattered, but it was obvious that they had at one point been a t-shirt for a band, a leather jacket, and a pair of dark jeans. 

He was also hovering several feet in the air.

“Nice to meet you, everyone,” he said with a grin. “I’m Gerard Keay, and I used to work for your boss.” 

Jon stood there open-mouthed for a few moments. “Sorry, what?”

“I used to work for Gertrude. That’s your boss, right? She still there?”

“Yeah, she’s still there. Uh, just—you’re a ghost, aren’t you.” 

“Yep,” he said, leaning back to hover above the couch with his hands behind his head. “They taking the book with them, Amy?”

“I think so. Because, well, they’re—I think they’re more able to investigate these things than I am.”

“Shame,” Gerard said with a sigh, pushing off the wall and sighing. “You were cool. Plus you didn’t mind if I listened to music on your phone while you worked.”

“You can still see me sometimes,” Amy said with a laugh. “Not like I’m dead. And besides, that wouldn’t really be too much of a problem, would it?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. He very pointedly turned away from Amy and looked at the interns, hovering in a cross-legged position in the air. “Well. My life is in your hands now. I mean, not really life exactly, I’m still dead, but my existence is in your hands. Don’t fuck it up.”

“We won’t,” Tim said. 

“Well. This has certainly been informative.” Amy moved closer to the door. “Thank you for giving me Graham’s old notebook, and for a very interesting discussion. I assume I’ll be hearing from you shortly?”

“Yes. I think we’ll start at the beginning? What’s the oldest entry you have in this book?”

“That’d be… the one right at the start of section three for distorted reality. He likes to hang out in graveyards, you’ll probably be able to find him pretty quickly. Blond hair that’s all long and frazzled-looking, tall, kind of thin—if you see him in a reflection or through glass he looks tall, unnaturally tall, and his hands look all gross and creepy.” She shuddered, moving to open the door. “You still have my number?”

“Yep.” Sasha held up the page. 

“It’s really been lovely,” Jon said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem at all,” Amy said. “I’ll see you all soon.”

thats all folks! thank you so much for reading it. i may upload chapter 2 soon, but that is it for now!!

[yeshawrites]

2.

AGENCY, CHAPTER 2. You can find all other works of mine here. NOTES: This story is not always friendly. It contains some graphic content, brief mentions of non-sexual nudity, murder, death, and plenty of language. Please be advised before you read it.

February. Fifteen years later.

He didn’t have much to load into the passenger van. Honestly, the transport felt like a waste. Someone could have picked him up in a sedan and no doubt the trunk would have room to spare after his meager duffle bag was packed in. All he had to his name were his clothes. They’d assured him that the Agency would set him up with firearms of his own, and just the idea of getting his stash through TSA gave him hives, so he’d just liquidated them.

For a fleeting moment Anthony reconsidered his choices. He wasn’t there yet. He didn’t have to do this. Once he saw the Agency itself, he knew it was too little, too late, but until then… He clenched tight on the bag strap and wondered if he could just sling it over his shoulder and jog back into the airport, hitch the next flight back to Oklahoma and forget this whole death sentence.

The Watcher in the front seat stared back at him.

“Sorry.” He tossed the bag into the van a little too hard. It echoed hollowly. “Coming.”

Their ride was long and silent. His companion didn’t even turn on the radio. Instead Anthony busied himself by watching the curving ridges of Virginia roll past the window, every slope and dip the new stage of an uncertain world.

Forty minutes later they rolled into a large, sprawling shopping center. WESTCHESTER COMMONS read a bright sign at the entrance. Commons to what? He looked further down the road and saw it disappear into a country lane, the all other exits dipping off onto the highway. A large movie theatre, a few craft stores, a dance studio, and a few fast food restaurants (Taco Bell, Chik-Fil-A, Five Guys) surrounded a pretty grass lawn that was meant to be a gathering place.

But the rest of it? The whole southern half of the complex was nigh on empty. Only a ski store (in Virginia?), a gym, and a Buffalo Wild Wings occupied the vast swath of blank storefronts. An entire section had boards stacked over the front windows, a Christmas mural two months overdue for a change painted cheerily over its warped surface. Just as he was wondering who in their right mind thought that was a good idea, the passenger van idled along the back of it.

Oh.

The Watcher punched a button on the dash and part of the building shuddered. A garage door cleverly concealed by siding and a few crates rolled up. Was this it? Anthony checked his expectations. A secretive government group called the Agency--and it lived in a strip mall that couldn’t quite fill its vendor slots?

They rolled inside and he adjusted his opinion again. The garage was clean, with a few black SUVs, sedans, and equipment vans lined up by model. A black Tesla perched in the far corner by a charging station, a tidy mechanic’s workspace not far from there. The Watcher parked, so Anthony hopped out and grabbed his stuff from the back.

“This way,” his escort said.

“You can talk,” Anthony said aloud, realizing in the same breath how rude that sounded. “Sorry. Just wasn’t sure for a bit here, y’know?”

The Watcher looked bemused and said nothing once more. Before they could make any headway, a door out of the garage swung open.

“Smith!”

“Chief Piotrowsky.” The Watcher--Smith, apparently--delved his hand into his pockets and produced a phone. “Just sign, would you?”

Chief Piotrowsky was a handsome man with shoulder-length dark hair, narrow, dark eyes, and black nails. Anthony watched them shine as he signed with his finger on the screen. “Feels like I’m signing for a package. This is a bit inappropriate for people, isn’t it? When you all sent me Barry, he had a good laugh about that one later.”

“They are packages in a way.”

Piotrowsky frowned uncomfortably and shook his head. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Smith. Tell them back at the Rock I said ‘Hi’.”

Anthony lingered in the shadows, uncertain of what to do. At long last, the Chief turned his dark gaze on him.

“Hey there. Nice to meet you. Antonio Martin?”

“Just Anthony, Sir,” he managed, offering his hand. “Nice to put a face to the voice.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been a bit since we talked. I was almost worried you wouldn’t take my offer.” The Chief smiled and appraised him up and down. “Sorry, I almost didn’t believe the dossier. Looks like they were right about you.”

“Thanks for not saying ‘how’s the weather up there?’ or something like that.” Anthony managed a nervous grin. “But I can tell you it’s hell to find pants that fit quite right.”

“Well, that’s true. I’ll have to get our guys to source for your uniform. You’ll have to give me your inseam later. Six-foot-six, yeah?”

“Yessir.”

“Please, it’s Xi. Just Xi. Want the tour?”

It wasn’t like he could refuse. “That’d be awful kind of you.”

The hallways were narrow and labyrinthine. Somehow he’d expected cubicles and halogen lighting, tired interns and forever-empty coffee pots--at least from his experience with the county lockup and courthouses. The walls were a soft copper-brown, white baseboards and chair railing running throughout.

“Welcome to your new home.” Xi rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it alright. I wish I could say you’d get to spend more time outside than you will, but we mostly don’t, given the nature of the job. It’s imperative that people don’t locate us too easily, so there isn’t a lot of coming and going from the base unless it’s for patrol or missions. Fortunately, mostly everything we need is inside here. I’ll take you to your room first. Besides, I’m sure the others will want to meet you.”

Anthony craned his neck to look as they passed open door after open door. A small doctor’s office and what looked like a forensics table, a kitchen, a gym--Xi walked quickly, so he only caught glimpses. A woman hunched over a row of computers in another. Somewhere down the hall came the soft sound of laughter.

“Oh no.” Xi huffed a chuckle. “What in God’s name is she up to?”

They reached the end of the hall, a final door awaiting them. Xi rapped several times with his knuckles and pushed it open, revealing a small common room. A few couches cluttered around a tiny coffee table, all facing a TV with a couple of old gaming consoles. Around the perimeter were other, smaller doors to what looked like bedrooms. Light streamed down through a skylight, augmented by the chunky white Christmas lights strung around the ceiling.

And a short woman was shirtless on the table.

A woman with a brown mohawk whooped and flung jolly ranchers at the other woman’s chest. At the table, a dark skinned man with tight-cut ringlets of hair tried to hide his smile and just buried his face in his hands, another very unenthused older man staring up at her.

“Come on, Desch!” The woman on the table shimmied and got another peal of laughter from the other two. “Give a lady a smile or something!”

“Aishe,” Xi snapped. “God, please get off the table.”

Mercifully she was wearing a bra, because she spun around to face the newcomer with a shameless grin on her lips. Out of respect, Anthony lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Oop, Bossman here to take us down.” The dark man shot up to his feet. “I swear this was a legitimate operation, Sir. We’ve got permits.”

“Yeah!” Aishe laughed aloud before tempering her smirk. “We have permits. I’m a professional. I was just trying to get a smile out of Desch. Thought I might just, you know, do a little dance…”

“Aishe?” Xi groaned. “Your shirt. Please.”

She flung on a tank top and finally Anthony felt free to look her over. She was very short--maybe not even five feet tall--with long, bleached blonde hair and black, thick eyebrows framing golden eyes. Her lips were full and her body--well, he tried not to notice that too much. She had curves to rival the state. Her nose was the only straight thing on her; a sharp, angular line that only served to make every other swirl and dip of her more fascinating in contrast. A tiger’s eye stud glimmered from her eyebrow and a gold one from her nose and a third just under her lip, her ears rimmed with hoops and studs in a thousand patterns.

Anthony wondered if love at first sight was really as far fetched as he’d thought.

“We’ve got a newcomer.” Xi seemed to age a thousand years in the fifteen seconds they’d all been together. “Anthony is going to take the new slot.”

“Oh?” And Aishe flashed him a grin. “Charmed. I’m Aishe. Can you give good piggyback rides, or is all that height just for looks?”

“Aishe,” Xi groaned.

“Err, I haven’t done that in a bit, but I expect I’ll be put through my paces then, ma’am.”

“That wasn’t a no.” She looked triumphantly back at the others. “It’s possible.”

Xi pushed onward, motioning back at the others one at a time. “That’s Barry back there. Desch is the most senior Agent, so he’s an excellent resource. And Verna--”

If Aishe was a handful, it looked like Verna--the woman with the mohawk--might be too. She practically appeared in his face, poking and prodding at him. “Hey, you ain’t a slab of nothin’ and sinew like I got Barry in.”

Barry--the darker man in the back--stared off into the distance like he was seeing a battlefield. “Lucky him. You don’t have to go through the notorious Verna Welcome Warmup then.”

“I’d hope a big boy like him has a little swing in his fists.” Aishe grinned brightly, running her tongue over the ridge of her lip. “Where are you from?”

“Oklahoma. The Agency poached me from Colorado, though.”

“Well damn. You’re good, one hundred percent pure American beef, huh?”

Barry snorted so hard he doubled over, hiding his face even as Aishe grinned at her own joke. Xi sighed and adjusted her shirt to hide her bra straps.

“Will you please show him the run of the place and not scare him off?”

“Yeah, Dad. Don’t worry.” She swatted off his hands and stuck out her tongue at him. “I’ll get him set up nice. You got an appointment with the Rock or something?”

“No. Joshua.”

Every face in the room either grimaced, groaned, or rolled their eyes. Aishe pinned her mouth together to suppress what Anthony now suspected was a trademark grin. “Well you have fun with that! Let me know what else we’re doing wrong now. Figures we got the worst Watcher in the whole damn Agency.”

Xi didn’t answer that, but his face told a story of its own. “Behave. I’ll be back later.”

“Gotcha, gotcha.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving him alone with the others. Desch returned to whatever he was reading, but three pairs of eyes zeroed in on him.

“So.” Aishe grinned cheekily. “Why’re you in?”

“Huh?” Anthony almost laughed. The flashback to the county lockup was uncanny.

“What’d you do? What almost got you?” Verna bent over a chair, stretching out her hamstrings. “You’ve gotta tangle with something supernatural to get recruited into the Agency. What was yours? I punched out someone that was stalking a friend of mine.”

“Said ‘someone’ was a vampire.” Aishe laughed. “The Rock said they’d never heard of anyone doing that and living before.”

Barry grimaced. “Mine was a doppelganger.”

Anthony nodded and pointed back at the other man. “Same here.”

“Oh shit.” Verna pumped her fist enthusiastically. “These stories are always the trippiest. How’d yours go?”

“Err…” Anthony shuffled the bag off his shoulder and let it onto the ground. “Short version? It jumped my brothers and me. Got the best of them, didn’t manage to get me. Got charged with their deaths.”

“Yeah.” Barry nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, that’s how that one works usually. Usually it’s the Agency that gets people cleared from those ones.”

“Yeah, if Mr. Xi hadn’t gone and gotten me sprung, I’m pretty sure the prosecutor would’a hung me out to dry for murder.”

Aishe said nothing. She just tilted back her head and appraised him with those golden eyes, a half-smile on her face that concealed her every thought. For a moment Anthony wondered if she could see straight through him, through the layers of the button-up shirt and to his tattoos, straight down onto the pores of his skin where all the worst of him lived so close to the surface. But almost as soon as he saw it, her eyes brightened and crinkled again, that permanent laugh bubbling up to her throat.

“Well,” she said, offering him a hand. “I can show you your room. Then I can show you where you’re gonna get the weapons to take some doppelgangers out again. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

---

Joshua had never really cared for camping. The only time he’d ever really gone was probably thirty years ago; as best as he could recall it had rained the whole time. His older brother swore they’d all gotten terribly feverish and sick from a combination of the weather and his father’s poor attempts at cooking, a story his father had gone to his grave insisting wasn’t true. Joshua had to admit it sounded very plausible, considering their father. He sighed and pulled his black coat tighter around him, muffling the jostle of bullets. All misgivings about camping aside, the Shenandoah was still pretty. The trees were just now recovering from the winter and tiny buds of green poked their hopeful heads from long branches. The water was clear and the current strong in the river he kept meeting; it glowed crystalline and threw sparkles across the stripped trees, flecks of color across white and grey bark. Sunlight pooled in the flat rocks, and if you sat still for long enough schools of tiny white fish would scurry around the shallows in search of food. The deer were bold here. Already he’d come within arm’s reach of a doe. In his mind he’d named it Eighty-Three, after the bright yellow tags in her ears.   It was magical enough to make him not hate camping as much. But he hated long drives, too, and the drive had been nearly four hours of blistering silence and intermittent arguing between Desch and Christiane in the way only those two could argue, and he crossed a trip back out in his mental ledger of potential family vacations. A stick scraped Joshua’s bald head. He swerved and scowled at it, taking another step down the hill. The trail was very steep and only growing steeper. He wondered just how long it would take until he caught up with his quarry. He fiddled with the earpiece he wore. “Any sight?” “Negateef.” Christiane’s French accent was too strong for his taste. She was good at her job, but Joshua wished her partner would talk instead. “Not’ing yet.” “This trail is getting steep. I might need help bringing it back up.” “We will assist, mais w--” Christiane fell silent. Joshua halted, an instinct born of ages of special training. “Feefty yards.” That was all Joshua needed to hear. He delved into his fleece pocket for the Beretta and peered cautiously down the hillside thick with bramble and dead leaves. Sure enough, a lone figure in what looked like a grey flannel, shaggy blonde hair, and hiking gear moseyed his lonely way toward the falls. Joshua crouched out of sight. “You guys his set up?”

Christiane opened the link; he heard the beginning of a derisive snort and it went dead again. Probably Desch. At long last she replied. “Yes. Eyes on you.” Joshua clicked off the mic and peered over the ledge again. The hiker had nearly reached the falls; the roar of the water would be enough. He seized the opportunity and launched himself down the path,  hurtling through brush and trees and barely keeping his balance over logs supposed to serve as stepsohSHIT. His foot caught the edge of a fallen stick. He felt the fall before it even began and threw his whole body into it, rolling across his shoulder and back onto his feet, but it was too late. The hiker turned, blue eyes wide, staring at the middle aged black man picking himself back up from the leafy path. “Freeze!” Joshua yelled, training the Beretta on the hiker. Naturally, the target ran. Joshua squeezed off three shots before running after his quarry, chilly air whipping across his bald head. Christiane was yelling something in his ear, but the damn accent made it near impossible to understand her and he just kept going. Down, down the path they ran, across stumbling blocks of rocks and leaves. The hiker was fast, but Joshua had training and a couple years of college track under his belt. He lowered his shoulders and launched himself from the high ground, catching the kid around his waist and dragging him down; as one they rolled down the path, their descent stopped only by slamming into a boulder. Pain. There were fingers around his neck now, wild blue eyes like cold fire, a hateful sneer born of desperation and rage boring into his; Joshua tried to put his feet between himself and his attacker but the hands stayed, far too long and strong to be normal, the air throttled in his throat and his lungs burning and stars sparking in his vision. Joshua gathered up the last of his strength and bellowed in the hiker’s face. He flinched just enough and Joshua grabbed a handful of the blonde hair, wrenching him down onto the pathway-- BANG The shot rang clear and true into the hiker’s back; Joshua covered his face just in time to shield himself from the shower of blood. “Zere. Are you okay?” “Just fine,” Joshua grunted, gasping for breath. He worked his way down towards the body and flipped it over with his foot just in time to see the pale face ripple and shift. He’d heard of this before, but never seen it in practice. He watched with sick fascination as the clothes shuddered and grew loose, the backpack straps sliding from its shoulders, boots falling off feet that no longer existed. The kid’s expression warped like the ocean tide, morphing and twisting until an eerie gray blank took its place, eyes sinking into nothing, the nose flattening, cheekbones dissolving until the only thing staring back at him was mirrored reflection of his own face. It was a grisly reminder that it could have been him, lying dead in a ditch, this thing masquerading to his wife, to his sons, slipping into his clothes as easily as he did-- “Ees eet ze doppelganger?” Hands shaking, Joshua touched his mic. “Yeah. This is it.”

“Well, more zan zat.” Christiane paused. “Our sensors are glowing purple.”

[fanficstookover]

Open Your Eyes - Stiles (part 4)

-(Y/N) is the new student at Beacon Hills High School and she has a secret. Being born blind, she was never able to see a thing, until she was attacked by a wild animal. To this day she has never told anyone about it. So will she do it now? 

word count: 2768

other parts: part 1 - -part 2 - part 3 - part 5

“Are you like Daredevil or something?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, no. Tell me.”

“Oh, you’re Daredevil, he’s Batman. You’re both Ben Affleck.”  Lydia walked up to us. I hadn’t even noticed it, until she had said that and sat down next to me. Stiles looked extremely confused.

“How do you know Daredevil?”

“I’m not an idiot, Stiles. I know about things.” As soon as she said it, she looked a bit nervous at me. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that…”

“It’s okay,” I smiled, “It’s not your fault that my parents raised me like some kind of amish.” Lydia let herself  laugh a bit. I realised how awkward it was for them.

Obviously I had to tell them my secret. It would make everything so much easier for me,but for them too. And then I could at least act like a normal person around them.

But what if they would be angry at me for not telling them immediately. What if they could think I was just using them all this time. They would probably hate me for the rest of my life.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles got me out of my deep and dark thoughts.

“Huh? What?”

“You kind a zoned out there for a second?” Lydia looked concerned.

“Did you have a vision?” Stiles looked at me?

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh yeah. Eh, nevermind. It was kind of a stupid joke anyway.” he rubbed the back of his neck. I couldn’t help, but feel extremely sad. I wanted to say something but got interrupted by Lydia:”I think we should get you home. Remember, I promised your dad to bring you home after school.”

“I completely forgot. I guess you’ll have to teach me about Lacrosse some other time.” I said to Stiles. He just smiled weakly/

I said a quick bye to everybody and followed Lydia to her car. I ticked my cane on the ground, aimlessly, but still in the same direction.

“Wait!” a shrill voice stopped us in our footsteps. “You two, get over here!” Coach Finstock waved around. Hesitantly I walked to him, trying to stay a few steps behind Lydia the whole time. To be honest, he did scare me a bit. Not as much as he scared Stiles, but enough not to want to be close to him. Did anyone actually want to stand next to him? From the short time I’ve been here, I don’t think anyone was really eager to have a conversation with the coach.

“Why were you leaving?” He looked at me. I had no idea what to answer.

“We were going to my car. I have to bring her home, coach,” Lydia told the crazy man.

“Aren’t you trying out?”

“Trying out for what?” I asked him puzzled.

“For the team of course! We need someone that can actually shoot and aim.” I couldn’t help but notice that he glanced over to Stiles as he said that.

“I don’t think I-”  

“What? Because you’re a girl? Kira is a girl.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t-”

“Is it you’re grades?  I can give you a better one for the next Econ quiz.”

“No, I just -”

“You’re parents?”

“NO!” I was fed up. I understand that he was trying to be nice and was doing his best to get me on the team. But the coach could at least listen to me for a second. So, I did what had to be done. What was probably the only way to get him quiet. I took of my glasses and tried to hit him with my cane. Obviously I swung a few inches above his head. (As much as I would love to hit him, he is still a teacher and I do not need any of that on my record.)  

Coach duck his head quickly and almost fell on the ground. It was very clear that he was trying his best not to say every curse word he could.

Once he was back on his feet, he looked at me. But that was also only very quick. As soon as he looked at my face, he cringed and turned away from me. I couldn’t help but laugh. When Lydia noticed that I wasn’t mad, she laughed too.

“It’s you.” Coach simply said, “What are you doing here if you can’t see?”

“The fact that I can’t see, does not mean I can not support my friends.” I had put on my glasses back and I couldn’t help, but glance at Stiles as I said that.  

“That was definitely something,” Lydia said as she started her car. I was sitting next to her in the passenger's seat.  We hadn’t said a word to each other until we had reached the vehicle in the parking lot.

“Yeah,” I said. It was silent for a few seconds and then we both burst out in laughter. I haven’t had a laugh like that in a long time. Once we calmed down a bit, Lydia took off. She drove out of the parking lot of the school and we made our way to my house.

“Is Stiles really that bad at Lacrosse as everyone makes it sound like,” I asked as Lydia took a sharp turn to the left.

“He is actually really good,” Lydia sighed, “He’s just really insecure. But once he has the confidence, he can be amazing. Last year he scored the winning points in the finale. But then…” Lydia suddenly stopped talking. As if it wasn’t her place to talk about it. “Then, that summer, he started to train like crazy. He thought he would be co-captain, together with Scott. But then, Liam showed up.”

“Liam?” I laughed, thinking about the little boy I met yesterday at lunch.

“He may look like a shrimp, but that guy is an absolute beast on the field,” she had to pause for a second as there was someone in front of us who didn’t know how to drive, “Anyway, it completely devastated Stiles.”

“That’s…”

“Yeah. but please don’t tell him that you know. It would kill him.”  

“I understand.” but I actually didn’t. Lydia made it sound like it was the worst thing in the world for Stiles to know that I knew about that. What was so special about me? I barely knew him… or anyone in Beacon Hills. And probably I won’t get too know anyone as long as my mother won’t let me make actual friends. When I started to think about my mom, and everything that happened last night and this morning, I suddenly didn’t feel like going home. Not that I ever want to go home.

“This is probably a bit on short notice,” I said to Lydia as we were only a few streets away from my house. “But could I eat at your place tonight? If my parents let me, that is.”

“Of course,” Lydia said happily, “I’m home alone tonight anyway.”

“Thanks.”

Only seconds later, Lydia drove up to my house.

“Here we are.” Lydia unbuckled her seatbelt. I did the same and opened my door. The cold wind suddenly hit me in the face, giving me goosebumps.

“Is it me, or did it get really cold suddenly.”

“Yeah, it did.” I agreed with her. We walked together to my front door and she rang the doorbell. After a few seconds we heard footsteps and my mom opened the door for us. She looked a bit angry, but faked a smile as soon as she saw Lydia.

“Uhm, hello.” she mumbled. Lydia smiled at my mother: “Nice to meet you mrs. (Y/L/N). My name is Lydia Martin.”  she held out her hand and my mom, to my surprise, actually shook it.

“Nice to meet you Lydia. Thank you for bringing (Y/N) home. C’mon inside.”

“Actually…” I stopped my mom, “I was wondering if I could eat at Lydia’s tonight.” my mom stared at me for a few good seconds. She then laughed in relief. “Oh thank god. I thought that Lydia would stay and I would have to cook. I’m so tired from cleaning this place. Of course you can go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just make sure you make your homework.”

“Thank you. I’ll just go get my books then.”

“I’ll come with you.” Lydia suggested. I stopped in my footsteps. There was no way that Lydia will see my depressive excuse for a room. “No, that’s okay, I will be back in a minute.”

Once in my room, I walked to the book case. I took the two books that I would need to make my homework and walked back to the living room. My cane ticked on the floor.

“I’m ready.”

“Good.” Lydia put down the glass of water on the counter. “It was nice to meet you mrs. (Y/L/N).” Lydia waved to my mom as we walked out of the house. My mom shouted a quick goodbye too from the couch, before I closed the door.

“You know what, your mom is actually really nice.”

“Believe me, that’s only because you were there. She literally has a split personality when it comes to talking to guests or to me.” We got into the car and drove off.

The drive to Lydia’s house was surprisingly short. Once we had arrived there, I had to take a second to look at the big building.

“Home, sweet home.” she stepped out, so I did the same. The cold air hit us again, and this time the sun had also hidden behind dark clouds, making it almost look like it was night time. It also started to smell like it was about to rain.

“We should get inside quickly,” Lydia suggested. I agreed as she took my arm and guided me to the stairs that lead to the door. Lydia opened the door and it revealed a big corridor that lead to the living room and open kitchen.

“Welcome to my humble home.”

“Thanks.”  

Lydia lead me to the couch where we sat down.

“Okay, as much as I want to tell you that I am a 5 star - chef, I am terrible in the kitchen,

so let’s just order something. How about pizza?”

“Yes please.”

“Anything in particular.”

“Salame.”

“Okay, let me order it quickly.” She took her phone out of her bag and left the room quickly. I took that time to look around. The room was big and filled with, probably, very expensive things. But at the same time it looked very cozy.  

“Alright. The pizza is on it’s way.”

The next hour or so, we spend doing our homework and then later on also eating pizza with it. Meanwhile we were enjoying our greasy dinner inside, it had started to rain cats and dogs. The wind had also started to even harder than before.

Lydia and I talked a lot about ourselves. We were actually much more alike than I thought.

“I think we are going to be great friends.” she said and it made me blush a bit. This was the first thing that I actually had made a friend. But it did made me wonder a bit….

“I’m curious,” I said as I finished my last piece of pizza. “How is it possible that you are all so cool with me looking like… this?”  

“Were we supposed to ignore such a cool girl as you?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I laughed. “It’s just that, normally when I show my face to people, it normally ends up like with coach. They just scream or try to run away,” we both giggled at the thought of that, “but not you guys. You all act so casual about it. As if this is normal.” I had pointed to my face.

“I suppose we just saw much more worse things than a few scars,” she said casually.

“You want to tell me, that you sw worse things than this.” I pulled of my glasses. Lydia didn’t even flinch. She just smiled sheepishly.

“Okay, you want to know what it is.” I just nodded. “We met you before you had showed us those scars. Stiles had a whole walk to a classroom before he saw them. I didn’t seem them until this afternoon and I don’t even think that the rest had seen them. If you know a person, it shouldn’t matter how they look like, right? You should know that.”

“Can I hug you?” I felt my eyes sting again. However, I knew very well that these would have been happy tears.

“Of course.” she hugged me tightly and I hugged her back. When she let me go, Lydia looked behind me and her eyes widened.

“O wow, it got late. I should probably get you home.”

“I guess so.” We got up and headed to the door. Lydia opened it and it only took me one step outside to almost fall down on the ground. Fortunately, Lydia had caught me just in time.

“I don’t think it’s the best thing to drive in this weather. We would sooner slip and die than get to your house.”

“You should call my dad.” She did as I suggested and my dad picked up after a couple of seconds.

“Hello. Mr (Y/L/N)? Yes this is Lydia Martin. As you know, (Y/N) was at my home and just wanted to bring her back home, but with this weather, I don’t think it’s possible to drive. Could she maybe… Oh, OK. Thank you. Goodbye,” and she hung up.

“You can stay.” she said a bit confused.

We decided to get back inside. Lydia had given me something to wear as a pyjama and our conversation continued. It was almost midnight, when I decided to do something that I had never done and never thought I would do.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Sure.” she put down her drink.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’m saying this, because I trust you and please don’t be mad.”

“You’re scaring me. Just tell me already.” Lydia started to look a bit worried.

“And swear that you won’t tell anyone else. This has to stay a secret. At some point, I will tell the rest, but I think that you are the best person to start with.”

Lydia didn’t say anything for some time. Then, her eyes almost lit up from excitement. She squealed: “Oh my God. Are you in love with Stiles?!”

“What?”

“C’mon, you are totally falling for him.”

“No,” I shook my head, “that wasn’t even what I wanted to say.”

“So you do like him?”

“Can we please not talk about this now,” I begged her, “I actually wanted to tell you something really important.”

“Yeah, being in love is a pretty big deal. Hahaha, I’m joking. What is it?”

I had to take a deep breath. I was going to do it. There was no going back now. Not anymore.

“You know that I was born blind, not because of the attack that got me these scars.”

“Yeah,” the redhead looked at me with full confusion showing on her face.

“Well, that’s not everything that happened. After the attack, I woke up in the hospital, days after, I could see.”

“What!” I flinched at the loud, high pitched sound she had just made. I slowly pulled of my glasses for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I looked up at Lydia as I folded the glasses up. She was staring at me with wide eyes.

“I don’t know how it is possible, but I can see. I am really sorry if you feel like I have been using you. You have to understand that I’m only doing this, because I don’t want to be a scientific experiment.”

Lydia still didn’t say a word. She brushed her hand through her hair, looking extremely confused.

If I could cry, I would have by that moment. What had I done? I just told her my biggest secret and now she probably hates me.

But I was wrong. Lydia suddenly made another shrieking noise and hugged me. I felt all the air being pressed out of my lungs. WHo would have thought that a petite girl like her had so much power in her.

“That is amazing! Now I can go shopping with you and watch cheesy chick-flicks and…”

“Calm down.” I got her of off me and she apologised for almost choking me.

“I have to call them!” Lydia stood up.

“Wait? Who are you going to call?”

“Stiles, Scott, the rest.”

“No, please don’t.”

“Don’t worry. We also have to tell you something.”

___________________________________ People who asked for tag:  @sarasmismyonlydefence @acc3ssdenied @melanie451 @fetchen People who I assumed wanted to read more (from comments/reblogs...) I see everything :P sorry  @i6sphotography @dylan-trash-tbh @stilinski-jpeg @maya-writing

[jewelofwakanda]

French Inhale 0.1

OKAY. This took me way longer than it should’ve. But, I’m finally content with what I was able to get down. Now that FI is a series, I really felt like I needed to get some backstory going for Zorah and Erik. If you missed that post/announcement, the face claims are here. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Words: 2,308...Zorah will always be bold italics, everyone else is bold. I will do my best to separate the dialogue (since there’s a lot of it) so that’s it’s clear. If it runs together too much, please let me know so I can work on it in the future. Also, this one is a little link heavy. Any outfit that is linked is the exact outfit mentioned, for the record. Not sure what they look like in mobile and I think I did a good enough job describing things if you want to skip them.

Black, plus-size OC x Erik “Killmonger” Stevens meet for the first time during a “transaction”. Not really sure if this fits in any category (not smutty or fluffy or angsty at all) but was very necessary IMO.

“So, you really not gon come with me? I’ll even wait for you to get off work.”, Zorah whined into her phone. Her trusty weed man had disappeared off the face of the planet (probably busted by LAPD) and she needed to cop something, like, yesterday. She asked her best friend, Naomi, for her plug’s information and assumed she would make the introduction. Zorah was sadly mistaken. 

“You grown, and Demo don’t bite…unless you want him to.”, Naomi threw back, Zorah could hear her snickering under her breath.

“Oh my God, shut up! I can’t just roll up to that man’s house asking for tree. He’ll probably think I’m the feds or something.”, Zorah complained.

“I already told him you would be stopping by, sent a pic and everything. He actually sounded interested in meeting you.” 

“I am not about to start dealing with a drug dealer, Naomi.”

“But, if the weed man is your man, we’ll be smoking for free for the rest of forever.” 

“Then, YOU date him, Nay. I’m not interested. And, what the hell do you mean you sent him a pict—” 

“Huh? Um, I gotta go girl, my supervisor just walked in. Luhyoubye.”, Naomi said in all one word, cutting her off and hanging up. 

“I’m gonna kill her.”, Zorah thought to herself as she put Demo’s address in her GPS. He didn’t seem to live that far away, and Naomi told her he was occasionally willing to make deliveries. If he acted right during this transaction, she might have just found a new connect. 

She pulled up to Demo’s blue and white one-story home and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t the usual type of trap house she was used to frequenting, very unassuming if you will. The shiny, black Aston Martin and fully loaded Jeep in the driveway made her question what other drugs Demo was dealing. Weed doesn’t buy you two expensive cars, let alone an Aston. 

She parallel parked on the street and slowly approached the front door, thinking twice about knocking. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting herself into, when the door swung open on its own. 

“Oh hey, you must be Zorah.”, a tall, handsome man with smooth, caramel colored skin and long dreads greeted her, motioning her inside. She definitely saw him look her up and down, making her feel like a certified snack. ‘Damn, Nay didn’t tell me he was so fine’, Zorah thought to herself, hoping her face wasn’t a dead giveaway to her instant attraction. 

“Just make yourself at home, beautiful.” he said with a charming grin, leading her to his living room, “I’m just finishing up with another customer.” He strode into his kitchen leaving her with her thoughts.

‘Make myself at home? I might move in with your fine ass.’, she said to herself as she sat down on his large, velvety couch trying to keep it cool. Zorah took a moment to take in her surroundings. Demo’s house was unexpectedly clean and comfortable. 21 Savage was playing faintly in the background from the Beats Pill+ she spotted laying on a rather impressive entertainment system. The 50” flat screen TV, various gaming consoles and probably every game known to man made it clear what he spent all his money on. She noticed the room was nicely decorated and the paint on the walls coordinated well with the soft, dark brown sectional that took up most of the living room space. ‘He must’ve had a girlfriend pick all this out for him’, she assumed. 

“Nah! Fuck you Demo!” The booming voice of another man came loudly from Demo’s kitchen, snapping her from her thoughts. Even though she couldn’t really catch what they were talking about, the paranoia set in. She was alone, without back-up, in some random man’s house. She didn’t know who that other person was or if Demo had weapons. What if one of them tried something? She was usually a laid-back individual and never backed down if she needed to defend herself but being outnumbered made her nervous. She made a mental note to curse Naomi out for not coming with her. Zorah decided to get up from the couch and busy herself with a tall shelf full of pictures close to the front door. If she had to make a run for it, she was ready. 

There were a lot of pictures on Demo’s shelf, mostly of family and friends. One of Demo graduating from what looked like high school surrounded by what she assumed were his parents and siblings and a little girl in his arms, she couldn’t have been more than one year old at the time and was practically his twin. She saw the same little girl throughout a lot of the portraits, most of them with her father usually wrapped in a tight embrace. She giggled at one of Demo and his little girl throwing up the ‘Westside’ symbol and scrunching their faces for the camera, attempting to look tough. She could tell he was a good, if at least involved father, and that was impressive. More than a few of them were taken at various clubs with his large group of fine ass friends. One guy in particular popped up a couple times mean mugging the camera, showing off his gold grills and bad boy sex appeal. With his short dreads either braided back or secured to the top of his head, he had impeccable style and a body to match. Zorah felt her heart beat a little faster. She was drawn to this stranger, even more then she was to Demo. She felt her body heating up, the attraction making her squeeze her thighs together.  

“Damn, Demo. All your customers this thick?”, Zorah whipped around, hot with more than just embarrassment when her eyes met with his, the same man she had been ogling just a moment ago. 

“Not as thick as her, nope.”, Demo replied. The two men before her were staring her down like a piece of meat. She didn’t usually take too kindly to so much lascivious attention, but she found herself at a loss for words. 

The mystery man had one eyebrow cocked and a sly smirk painted across his face, looking her up and down. He made her feel naked. 

“What’s ya name, ma?”, the mystery man spoke first, closing the distance between them as Demo plopped down on his couch, setting up his scale to finish the two transactions. 

“Um…”, she paused feeling foolish. She was drawing a blank, unable to make the words come out of her mouth, “Zorah…it’s Zorah.” 

“Hmmm...Zooraahh.”, he breathed, elongating the last syllables. She loved the way her name sounded, rolling lazily off his tongue. 

“The name’s Erik, but you can call me Daddy.”, he responded, flashing his gold fangs and extending his hand. She furrowed her brows and shoved her hands in her army fatigue jacket pockets. Was this nigga for real? They literally just exchanged names and he was already jumping to dirty talk? 

“Niggaaa! You really ain got no chill, do you? You need to quit before you scare her away.”, Demo laughed out loud at Erik’s boldness. 

“You know me, D. I get’s straight to business. So, Zo, you gon give me your number or what?” She was speechless. If any other dude would’ve stepped to her so disrespectfully, she would’ve drop kicked him in the throat and given him her ass to kiss. She decided to take the high road and ignore him. She snorted in his face and turned her attention to Demo. 

“So, I need a quarter. How much do I owe you?” 

“I’ll do it for $20 if you smoke one with me.”, Demo answered with a flirty grin. Jesus, him too? Zorah was having the dry spell of all dry spells; she’d spent the last eight-ish months practicing celibacy...a decision that had been made after six months of not getting any. Even after being set up on a few blind dates by various friends, the mediocre conversations with less than notable men left Zorah exhausted and a bit jaded.  Now, suddenly, Zorah had two fine ass men vying for her attention. 

“Weren’t you just telling me about some freak that was supposed to come through soon?” Erik asked, trying to throw salt in Demo’s game. 

“Didn’t YOU just finish telling me about the two thots you kicked outta your spot just an hour ago?”, Demo retorted. 

Zorah looked back and forth between the two men, thoroughly amused and mildly irritated. She couldn’t believe they were sparring back and forth, spilling all the tea about each other, as if she would fuck around with either one of them. As fine as they both were, Zorah didn’t date drug dealers or disrespectful assholes…if she could help it. 

“Look, I didn’t come here for allathis. I just want some tree. Can one of you life ruiners do that for me, please?”, she complained. 

“I can do a lot for you, but sure. Whatever you say.”, Demo said reaching into a jar and pulling out a few massive buds of purp, putting them on his scale. 

“Damn, girl. Why you so mean?”, Erik interjected, “You don’t like niggas or something?”, the shit eating grin on his face let her know he was playing around, but she didn’t like it. 

“I don’t know you like that, sir.” 

“So, that’s a no.” 

“Just because I’m not interested doesn’t make me gay.” 

“You wouldn’t be so icy if you weren’t. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. I like eating pussy too.”, Erik replied.

Demo snorted again at his daring friend. Zorah had had just about enough of this nigga. “What? Y’all too cute to get rejected? These other hoes might be falling all over themselves to lay on their backs for you, but I ain the one. And, I know a fuck boy when I see one.” 

“I do a little flirting and now I’m a fuck boy?” , Erik asked placing an offended hand on his heart, trying to appear wholesome.

“You told me to call you Daddy. What the hell am I supposed to think?” 

“I’m not about wasting time, ma. When I want something, I take it. Dassit.”

“First of all, you can’t take what’s not being offered. And second of all, you really not all that. If I was interested, you would know.” And with that, she stood up from the couch, dropped the $60 she expected to spend on the coffee table and headed for the door shoving the plastic sack of weed in her pocket. 

She could hear Erik and Demo laughing as she stepped outside, not bothering to close the door behind her. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that? Whatever she had been feeling looking at his picture, had been replaced with disgust. He was rude as fuck and she wasn’t going to stand there and let him play around with her. She barely noticed Erik jogging towards her as she slammed her car door in frustration. 

“Yo! Princess! Wait up!”, he yelled to her, hoping she wouldn’t pull off. 

“What do you want?”, she glared in his direction. She really didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say…so why wasn’t she pulling away? 

“Demo wanted me to give you this.” It was all three of her twenty-dollar bills. 

“But, I didn’t even smoke with him.” 

“I know, he said it was on the house. I guess it’s his way of apologizing for my behavior. Look, Zo, I was just playing around in there, ya know, a little harmless flirting. I ain mean to make you storm out like that.”, he smiled innocently as he leaned into her car window, “Lemme make it up to you?”

She took the bills, putting them back in her wallet and thought about her next move. Part of her wanted to laugh in his face and pull off. Show him that it didn’t matter how fine he was, he couldn’t just talk to women any kind of way and get away with it, especially not her. But, she also couldn’t deny the attraction. Yes, he was clearly an asshole, but she was inexplicably drawn to him. What is it about annoying, self-absorbed players who laugh at their own jokes that she couldn’t resist? 

“So, what exactly does that entail?”, she asked skeptically, hoping she wouldn’t regret opening this door she somehow knew would be a bitch to close.

Erik raised his eyebrows in surprise, probably assuming she would tell him to go to hell, “Well, I don’t wanna make you fall in love too quick.”, Erik gave her a smug grin. He obviously couldn’t resist being a smart ass, “How about we start off slow and match one? Your place, tonight?” 

“Uh, cute. Try again.”, she countered as he threw his head back in laughter.

“Alright, alright, we’ll meet somewhere neutral and hotbox. Is that better, your majesty?” 

“You got jokes, huh? Fine.”, Zorah conceded handing him her phone so he could enter his number. She could tell he was used to being in control. Having any and every female at his beck and call. Zorah wasn’t about to play that game with him. 

“So, you gon call me later?”, he asked handing her back the smartphone.

“Maybe.”, she shrugged and pulled away from Demo’s street, leaving Erik in her dust. She eyed him from her rear-view mirror as he watched her drive away and couldn’t contain the excitement simmering in her core. Whether this was a fling or (dare she think it) the real thing, she couldn’t deny the magnetic attraction. It was electric. It was inevitable. It was trouble. And, maybe it was about time she got into some.

alrighty, y'all. dassit. again, all comments/suggestions/criticisms are welcome. I would really enjoy any input you guys have because nobody knows Erik like y'all do (lol). and keep an eye out for Part II. I’m working on it, trust me.

@iamrheaspeaks @supersizemeplz @theunsweetenedtruth @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @eriknutinthispoosy @cancerianprincess@myboyfriendgiriboy @thehomierobbstark @chaneajoyyy

wanna be tagged? just lemme know.

[just-jordie-things]

Just Friends (part eleven) - Stiles Stilinski

You bit your lip, staring intensely at your reflection in the mirror.  You’d tried on the dress you’d gotten for Prom, which was in six hours, and you were suddenly re thinking everything.  So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you were contemplating your look.

“Hey it’s Lydia Martin!” A happy voice said through the receiver.  “Is this y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me” You said shakily, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress.  “Lydia I don’t know about this dress I need help-”

“You still at Stiles’ place?” She asked, you nodded, then remembered you were only on the phone.

“Yeah” You said aloud.

“I’m on my way.  Stay where you are.  Don’t let him see it okay!?” She scolded.

“Alright, I’m in the upstairs bathroom” You huffed.

“Already in my car.  See you soon” She said, and hung up.  You set your phone on the counter, which was covered with eyeliner pencils, shadow palettes, lipsticks, lip glosses, everything under the sun of makeup.  You had one eye done with a pretty cat eye look, but you were unsure about it so you didn’t do the other.

“Hey y/n?” There were knocks on the door as Stiles tried to open it.  “I need the bathroom”

“Liar” You called back.  He’d been trying to see your dress all day, and every time was a new lame excuse.

“Am not, I need to pee!” He exclaimed.

“Well luck you, you have a bathroom downstairs, now I’m having a crisis so if you could go do your business somewhere else that’d be great” You said.

“Crisis? Need help-”

“Stiles!”

“Alright alright!” You could tell that he’d thrown his hands in the air.  “Hope you don’t burn your air with the curly stick or anything”

“Curly stick?” You repeated in a mumble.  You figured he meant the curling iron.  “I’m fine Stiles” You said, and heard him walk down the stairs.  Again, your attention was brought to the mirror.  What if he thought you looked ugly? There was a knot tied in your stomach at the thought, because what if he did.  What if he thought-

The doorbell rang.

“ANSWER IT!” You screamed, and Stiles yelped a little, falling off the couch before rushing to open the door.

“Lydi-”

“I’m here on a fashion crisis” She pushed past him, walking up the steps without another word.  Stiles shook his head, going back to the couch.

As soon as you heard Lydia’s heels clicking in the hall outside the bathroom, you opened the door for her.  Revealing her with her giant bag of makeup and hair supplies.

“You look gorgeous what seems to be the issue?” You smiled for a brief moment, but frowned shortly after.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I tried makeup but I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, no idea Lydia, I’m losing my mind, do I do my hair? What if I over do it-”

“Wow you need stress relief first” Lydia chuckled.  She put her hands on your shoulders, sitting you down onto the closed toilet.  “Be right back” She left the room, and came back in quickly, rolling Stiles’ desk chair into the bathroom in front of her.

“Lydia what’s wrong with me” You sighed with a bitter chuckle.

“Nothing.  You just want to impress someone that get’s their breath taken away by the mere mention of your name, has a mini heart attack” You giggled a little bit as she gathered some makeup supplies.  “Mind if I do your other eye?” You shook your head, and shut your eyes so Lydia could do her thing.  “You did very well on this one” Lydia said, and you just nodded.  Your hands were twisting together in your lap as you grew more and more nervous.

“Lydia”

“Mhm”

“I’m kind of scared”

“Scared? Why scared?” She asked in concern, focused on your sharp wing as she dragged the brush along your eyelid.

“I’ve never… I haven’t really..” You searched for the right words.  “I’ve never really liked a boy this much before” You told her.  “Like, a lot” Lydia smiled, though you couldn’t see it.

“Want to know something that will make you feel better?” You nodded slightly.

“Yes please”

“God Stiles is freaking out too” Lydia giggled.

“SCOTT YOU’RE SO INCREDIBLY UNHELPFUL!” Stiles yelled in the McCall living room.  “All I need to do is learn how to slow dance.  How can I go to Prom with her if I can’t even dance with her?” He asked, and his friend chuckled.

“Yikes, you don’t know how to dance?”

“No- well not like that” Stiles said, and Scott laughed again.

“Alright, I’ll teach you but only because if you’re dancing at Prom, then you aren’t bothering Kira and I” Scott said, standing from the couch.  Stiles sprung up immediately.  “I’ll be y/n, you be you, got it?” Stiles nodded his head rapidly.

“What do I do”

“Hands on my waist” Scott said, wrapping his own hands around Stiles’ neck.  Stiles held Scott, and he began giggling.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“It tickles” Scott said, still grinning crookedly.  Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re unbelievable-”

“Hey, eyes on mine.  Eye contact is romantic” Scott instructed, holding Stiles’ jaw and turning his face to his.  “Then all you have to do is sorta sway around” Scott demonstrated, twirling them in slow circles.  This continued for a minute, when Melissa walked in.

“Boys are you getting ready for Pro-” She stopped in her tracks when she saw her son dancing with Stiles, making very romantic eye contact might she add.  At least before the realized her presence, and snapped their heads to Scott’s mom.

“I can expl-”

“Don’t wanna know” The woman said, putting her hands up and walking out before Stiles could explain to her what was going on.  He sighed, pulling away from Scott.

“Time to get changed?” Scott asked.  Stiles looked at his phone.  There was an hour until they had to go get the girls, who were all at Lydia’s house at the moment.

“Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea” Stiles said, taking in a deep breath.

“Nervous?” Scott asked.

“Nervous is an understatement” Stiles replied.

“Well would you like a piece of advice?” Scott asked.

“Is it legitimate help-”

“She’s probably a thousand times more nervous than you” Scott chuckled.  “Kira texted me, said she was worried about tonight”

“Worried in what way?” Stiles asked, and Scott shrugged.

“Kye said she didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut.  That’s all I got for ya” Scott said.

“So we’re back to you being incredibly unhelpful” Stiles groaned.

You sat on Lydia’s bed, all ready and done up.  Your makeup was finished, your cat eyes showing off your stunning y/e/c eyes, and your hair was done.  Lydia had straightened it, then curled the ends into beautiful ringlets.  You wore white pumps with your dress, which were tapping on the floor nervously.

“Would you stop that? It’s making me anxious” Kira said as Lydia was putting on a clear protective coat of paint on her electric blue painted nails.

“Yeah, and a nervous Kira shakes, and I’m trying to make these look pretty” Lydia said, not looking away from her work on Kira’s finger nails.

“Sorry” You said.  “I’m gonna go get a drink of water” You said, and quickly excused yourself from the room.

Sneakily taking your phone out of Lydia’s purse, where she’d confiscated all of your phones.  Just to make sure it was solid girl time.

You went down the steps quickly, pressing the phone to your ear as you’d already clicked on the first contact in your recent calls section.

“y/n?” Stiles picked up on the first ring.

“Hey” You breathed, instantly feeling a little relief.

“Hey, everything going good with the girls?” He asked you.

“Yeah yeah fine just… just tired honestly.  I’ve never dressed up this much” You said with a nervous laugh.  Stiles reciprocated the sound.

“Yeah I don’t think that I have either to be honest with you” He said, and you smiled a little bit.  “But I’m excited to see you” He said, and your smile grew big, a warmth settling in your chest.

“Yeah, I’m excited to see you too” You responded.  You turned to check the time on the oven.  “Ten minutes right?” You asked.

“Yep” He responded.  Then you heard foot steps.

“I’m not supposed to have my phone I gotta go” You rushed.

“Okay bye-”

You hung up, shoving your phone into your bra as Lydia and Kira entered the kitchen.

“Drinks anybody?” Lydia asked.

“Nah, the punch is probably spiked” Kira said.  “I’ll just ask Scott to sniff it out.  He probably do that, right?” You laughed a little.

The three of you stood in the kitchen for a little bit, mostly talking about the Prom theme, which was A Night Under the Stars.  Cheesy, yes.  But you all had wondered if the decorations were as beautiful as they potentially could be.

“I’m gonna go get our phones and check our hair, they’ll be here soon” You said, excusing yourself up the steps.  You pulled your phone out, and grabbed Kira and Lydia’s as well.  Then went into the bathroom to check on your hair.  Your fingers messing with it.  Tucking strands behind your ear, then pushing them back forward unsure on which looked better.

The doorbell rang.

You heard the girls rush to the door, opening it with excited squeals. 

 “Scott! Stiles!” Lydia said excitedly. 

 “Kira, you look absolutely stunning” You heard Scott say, and figured she’d kissed him in response. 

 “Okay guys break it up” Stiles said, and your heart skipped a beat. You stood by the staircase, but out of view of the others. “Hey, where y-” You walked out, taking a big deep breath and walking down the steps. Your pace slowed when you saw him, dressed in a tux with a black tie, deciding to somewhat match you, in a more classic way. You licked your lips, and Lydia mentally scolded you. You could tell through her eyes that she didn’t want you messing up your lipstick. 

Time seemed to stop for Stiles the moment he saw you. The room was silenced, except for your heels clicking down the steps. Your long legs shown off, soft hair cascading over your shoulders in waves of y/h/c. When you reached the end of the steps, you stared up at him, a nervous glint in your eyes.

“Pictures!” Kira yelled before either of you could say anything to each other. “Okay, but just a few” Lydia said. “I want most of em to be taken at the school” The next three minutes were all of you taking selfies and pictures of each other. Lydia took a picture of you and Stiles, his arm comfortably around your waist. It lingered there a few seconds after you finished. 

 “Hey um" You turned, blinking as you looked up at him again. Stiles released your arm. 

 "Hi" You said back with a sweet smile. "Exciting, isn't it?" Stiles nodded, looking up at the ceiling as he searched for words. 

 "Yeah, look um I think tonight you look-" Stiles looked back to you, seeing you walking out to Rasco. 

 "Coming?" You called with a slight smirk. 

 "-really beautiful" Stiles sighed, but smiled as he ran up to you and the others.

Stiles got in the driver’s seat, you already were in the passenger’s seat.  Kira Scott and Lydia sat in the back, with Kira in the middle.  Soft music played, and everyone chattered about how excited they were.

“Oh my God Scott our Prom pictures are going to be so cute I can just see it now” Kira said, eyes wide with awe and giddiness.

“I’m not doing Prom pictures, I’m flying steady” Lydia said, moving her hand in the air like it were a wave.

“And how bold of you to do so.  The Lydia Martin, without a date to the Prom”

“It’s overrated anyways”

“Is that why you turned down the hundred boys that asked you?” Kira asked, and you giggled, watching their encounter through the rear view mirror.

“First of all, it was six.  Not a hundred” Lydia said, checking her lipstick in her phone camera.  “Second of all, there will be a line of boys begging to dance with us.  And I’ll be the only one who can say yes” Lydia grinned at her reflection.  “You and y/n will be a little busy with your dates, don’t you think?” You blushed, but looked over at Stiles as he was sneaking a glance to you.  He was smiling.

When you parked at the school, Stiles practically ran around the car to open the door for you.  You giggled as you unbuckled your seat belt, taking the hand he offered you and stepping out.

Kira squealed, excitedly grabbing Scott’s arm and tugging him towards the squeal in such a fast pace, that they were practically running.

“Come on you losers lets go to Prom” Lydia said, following after her friend to the school.  Stiles looked t you, hooking his arm out.

“Shall we?” Your eyes were torn from the mass amount of students going inside, looking over at him with a gentle smile.

“We shall” You said, slipping your hand into his arm.  You walked with him like this, holding onto him for dear life until you reached the entrance.  Stiles opened the door for you, and you paused, staring inside.  The halls were decorated with streamers, leading to the gym, where the dance itself was held.

“You okay? He asked upon seeing your hesitation.  You swallowed before licking your lips, eyes on all the couples, holding hands and kissing sweetly before going into the gymnasium.   “Can I have your hand?” You asked, and he nodded, holding the door open with his opposite hand, and taking yours with the one closest.  You intertwined your fingers with Stiles’ easily, squeezing onto his hand, and he squeezed back. “Ready?” You nodded, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m ready” You affirmed.“Come on y/n, please? One dance.  Just one that’s all please?” Kira begged in front of you, holding both of your hands as you sat at a table.  Your eyes scanned the crowd with an unsure feeling.

“I don’t know Kira...” You said quietly.  “There’s a lot of people out there-”“They won’t be watching” She promised.  

“No one watches, they’re too busy enjoying themselves” Again you looked at the crowd.  Scott, Lydia, and Stiles dancing around and jumping to the music.  A certain caramel eyed boy with freckles and moles scattered on his cheeks caught your eye.  He grinned widely, and waved you over.  You crinkled your nose and shook your head.  “Come on, even Stiles wants you to dance with him” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from smiling.

“Kira-” You stopped when Stiles looked over his shoulder again, and began walking over to you.  “Shit” You mumbled, and Kira giggled, nd released your hands.

“Come on, come dance with me” Stiles said, holding his own hand out to you.

“Stiles I can’t-”

“Neither can anybody. but does it look like anyone cares? No, they don’t” Your brow furrowed a little.

“Whatever happened to me making my own decisions?” You asked, and Stiles chuckled, taking both of your hands now and pulling you up to stand.

“Too bad” He said, and your feet ended up following him to the dance floor.

“y/n you came!” Scott cheered, spinning Kira around in a circle to the beat of the fast song playing.  You wrung your hands together, looking around quickly in the big crowd of students.  Your eyes landed on Stiles, who was swaying around aimlessly.

“Yeah” He replied, holding onto your hands again.  “But who cares” Stiles added.

“I do... it’s like... three hundred people watching me” You said uneasily, your gaze darting around the room again,

“Hey” Stiles said softly, and you looked to him.  “It’s just me” He told you.  “Breathe y/n, it’s just me, I’m the only one looking at you” He said.  You nodded shakily, and taking a few breaths like he told you.  When you felt more relaxed, you smiled up at him.  “There she is!” Stiles said ecstatically, and he spun your around my your hand.

You and the others danced around to the upbeat songs, feeling a lot more carefree and happy.  Jumping here and there with Kira, joking around with Lydia as pretended to ball room dance to a rap songs that you’d never heard of.  But your favorite thing was when Stiles would twirl you around, your dress flying out a little bit, swaying around your legs when he’d pull you back into his chest for a short moment, both of you bearing big smiles.  Everyone had big smiles actually.

But eventually you all grew tired, and Kira and Scott took the opportunity to get their Prom pictures taken.  You watched them walk off, and met eyes with Stiles.

“Do you want to go do that? Or-or not it doesn’t make a difference to me” You said, shrugging like it didn’t.  But you really wanted him to say yes.

“Yeah sure, why not” Stiles smiled sheepishly, and you followed after Kira and Scott.

“Thanks!” The girl was saying to the photographer, ogling over the photos that he’d given her and Scott.  “These are so good!” She said happily.

“Let me see” You said, looking at the romantic photos of the couple.  “You two better win King and Queen” You said with a sweet smile.

“Undoubtedly” Scott said with his own big smile that made you laugh.

“Next” The photographer said.

“That’s us” Stiles told you, and you walked with him to the little area with a pink backdrop.

“Alright, here’s the poses.  Pick one” He handed you a card stock printout of different poses the two of you could choose.  One where you were kissing, one where he sat on the stool, and you sat on his leg, and the last one was him standing behind you, arms wrapped around your front, and your hands intertwined.  You both agreed on the last option.

“Alright, I’m gonna count own from three, and do it twice so you’ll each have a copy” The woman said, and you pulled on Stiles’ arms.  Your eyes on your feet to make sure they were placed properly, while you wrapped Stiles’ arms around your torso.

“You good?” He asked, and you smiled with a nod.

“Perfect” You replied.

“Three... two....one” Flash.  Picture one printed off at the table to the side.  “Second picture” She announced, and you smiled big again.  “Three... two... one” Flash.  Picture two printed over top of the other one.

“Thank you so much” You said to the woman, releasing Stiles’ hands to go look at the pictures.

“My pleasure. you’re the cutest couple I’ve photographed today” She replied with a smile.  Neither of you bothered to correct her, just smiled back as you both inspecting the pictures.  You and Stiles headed to the table to leave them there for safe keeping.

“She’s not wrong” You jumped when you heard Lydia, not knowing that she’d been with you.  “You guys are an adorable duo” The strawberry blonde winked, and you blushed, looking down at your feet.  Before anything else could be said, a slow song began to play, and Lydia lit up.  “Excuse me lovebirds, but I need to go find myself a cute boy” She said, and strutted off in search of an unsuspecting prey.  You giggled, laying your photo sheet down on the table, still standing with Stiles and pretending to be interested in the tablecloth.

“Do you wanna dance?” He asked unsurely, and your head snapped up.  “Or not, that’s okay-”

“No no I’d love to it’s just.. I have no idea how” You said with embarrassment in your tone.

“Well lucky you, Scott just taught me” Stiles said.  And again this night, he held his hand out to you, awaiting your answer.  You bit on your lip.  “Trust me, if either of us is going to be humiliated tonight, it’s going to be me.  I guarantee you I will run into a table and get food all over this suit” You giggled, and slipped your hand into his.

“You make a convincing argument Stilinski” You said softly, and he walked backwards, pulling you with him to the dance floor.  You kept your eyes on his, wide and full of curiosity for this boy.  Even when his hand wrapped around your waist, holding your one tightly by your shoulders, it was difficult for you to process what was happening.

And suddenly, it really was just him.  It was just him.  Staring at you, and dancing with you, and holding you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.  And you smiled.

“This is real” You whispered, your free hand laying up on his shoulder.

“Mhm” Stiles hummed, smiling down at you.

“We’re at Prom” You added, smiling a little brighter, and Stiles chuckled.

“We are indeed” He said.  A hook came in the song, and he spun you around.  But it wasn’t as quick and playful, it was slow and elegant.  He pulled you back, both of his hands on your waist now, and your arms wrapped around his neck.  You were much closer, chest to chest.  You took a few moments to just look up at him again, but long enough to have him question you through a raised brow.

“Nothing” You said softly.  “I’m just really glad I came here” You told him, and laid your head against his collarbone, still swaying to the music.  “With you” You added, and Stiles smiled, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“Yeah well I’m really glad I came here with you too sunshine” He murmured into your hair, and in a bold move, kissed your cheek.  A long kiss, not just a peck this time.  He felt you smile before he pulled away, leaning his head against yours.  “I didn’t get the chance to tell you” He said quietly.  “But you look really beautiful tonight” You giggled silently into his shoulder.  “I mean- you look beautiful every day- not that beautiful is a strong enough word really more like stunning, or gorgeous but-”

“Thanks Stiles” You said, pulling back from him to look him in the eye, your eyes crinkled by your smile.  “I guess I did end up impressing you” You whispered, and Stiles smiled despite himself.

“You impress me every day y/n, you don’t have to dress up.  You could literally be in pajamas and drooling on my blankets like you do in the mornings, and I swear, you’ll still take my breath away” You cheeks grew hot in a blush, and your heart rate sped up.

“Really?” You whispered, the word barely audible, he only knew you said it because he was so focused on your lips.  He brought a hand up to brush along your jaw.

“Yeah, yeah really” Stiles murmured back, and your eyes grew wet, as you just stared at this boy in front of you.  Something you’ve been doing a lot of lately.  “I did ask you to Prom, didn’t I?”

“Well your friends did pressure you into it”

“No” He shook his head.  “They helped me when I thought they were throwing me under the bus.  I wanted to ask you, but I didn’t know how” You smiled a small little smile.

“Really?” You asked again, and he nodded.  “Why?”

“Why?” He repeated, brows drawn together at the question, and you nodded.  “Because y/n, if I didn’t, a million other guys would’ve and-” He stopped when you started laughing.  “What’s so funny?” You shook your head.

“Sorry it’s just- no one else was going to ask me” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be like that y/n”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know how fucking perfect you are” Your eyes widened at his sudden profanity.  “Because you have to know” You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.  “How many times am I going to have to tell you how amazing you are? You’re hilarious, you’rs brilliant, you’re sweet, even if you don’t want people to know it, and you’re beautiful, y/n you’re so beautiful-”

“Stop” You said quietly.  “Stop you’re going to make me cry and then Lydia will strangle both of us” His thumb brushed along your jaw, hand still laying there.

“y/n” Stiles said softly, and you blinked your watery eyes dry.  You barely realized he’d leaned forward, looking from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes, as though unsure if you were okay with it.

You answered by leaning up on the tips of your toes and capturing his lips with yours in a searing kiss.  Both of your eyes were shut tightly, scared that when you opened them, you’d wake up, and it will all have been a dream.  When you parted, Stiles quickly opened them to look at you, though you kept yours shut.

“Tell me that was real” You whispered, and he breathed out a laugh.

“It was real” Stiles said, and leaned down to kiss you again, arms tightening around your waist, you grinned against his lips, and he did too, until you couldn’t kiss anymore.  Your fingers played with the ends of his hair, and you were blushing hard.  “Definitely real” Stiles breathed, and your smile softened.

“Stiles” You whispered.  “I don’t do... I don’t do the boyfriend thing-” Stiles’ face immediately fell, and it broke your heart.

“I know I’m sor-”

“Because I don’t know how it...works” You said nervously.  “I’m not good with talking, it takes a lot and relationships are based on trust and how could you trust me if I take forever to-”

Stiles cut you off, cupping your cheeks and pulling you in for a long kiss.  His lips lingered against yours, brushing them softly as he spoke.

“y/n I trust you, one hundred percent.  With.  My.  Life” Your lips quivered against his.

“I trust you too” You said, hands splaying on his cheeks, fingers brushing over his skin as they curled and stretched.  “A lot, it’s just... I don’t know what if something happens?”

“Well then I won’t let anything happen” Stiles whispered, placing a light kiss on your lips.

“You can’t promise that” You said as he kissed you again.

“Yes I can” Stiles replied, giving you another kiss.  “I can” Kiss.

“No you can’t” Kiss.

“Can too”

Kiss.

“Can not”

Kiss.

“I love you”

No kiss.

You stared up at him with awestruck eyes.

“I love you” He said again, the same genuine look on his face.

“Stiles-”

“y/n come on! They’re announcing king and queen!” Kira grabbed your arm, already pulling you out of Stiles’ grasp, but you tugged away.

“No!” You yelled.  “No! I’m so done with not being able to finish for myself, I always get cut off and I’m tired of it happening” You said, standing your ground.  Kira looked at you shocked, having had no idea what was happening before she’d tugged on your arm.  You took in a deep breath, regaining your stability again.  By now Scott and Lydia were around you guys too, and you turned back to look at Stiles, who hadn’t moved a muscle.

He looked like a mixture of emotions.  Sad, scared, hopeful.. you could go on.

But you turned completely, facing him and breathing in again, hoping to steady your voice.

“I didn’t say it back” You said, and you both seemed to move at the same time, colliding in an earth shattering kiss.  Sure, your first one was passionate, but this, this was ground breaking.  Stiles lifted you up around the waist, spinning you around for a second.  When you were set back down, you stood on the tips of your toes.

“You didn’t have to” He responded in the brief moment you parted, and in seconds your lips found each other again, in a much more soft kiss, yet long and meaningful.

You wished you could take a picture of the feeling you had.  He was warm, and tasted like the vanilla cupcakes at the snack table.  His arms were protective, chest a firm pillow to lean against.  Kissing him was better than any high, any drug, better than any sweet treat.  It gave you butterflies that fluttered relentlessly in your stomach.

“Scott McCall, and Kira Yukimura!” 

You and Stiles pulled away wen your friends were announced.

“Good for them” You hummed, watching for a short moment as a crown was placed on each of their heads.

“Yeah mhm” Stiles hummed mindlessly, hooking a finger under your chin, and turning you back to bring your lips to his.  You hummed a quiet sigh of content, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck.

You could do this forever.

“Alright, thanks for the ride guys I had a great time” Lydia grinned, and squeezed your shoulder before getting out of the jeep.

“Bye Lydia” You called collectively with the group, then drove off.

“So” Scott smirked into the rear view mirror, his eyes then landing on yours and Stiles’ intertwined hands resting on your leg.  “Are ya a thing now?”

“Define thing” Stiles said, shooting you a secret wink that made you smile.

“Ya know are you guys like-”

“Are you boyfriend and girlfriend or not.  We can’t wait forever” Kira spoke up, and you giggled.

“I’d say so, yes” You answered, unable to help a smile to yourself.

Kira was gushing and squealing all the way to Scott’s house.

Even as they both got out and walked to his door, (neither of you questioned them staying together.  Too afraid of the honest answer) you could hear her going on about how cute double dates and babies would be.  

You and Stiles drove back to your house, you having decided it was time to be back in your own bed.  Even if his arms were much more cozier.  Besides, you had to gush to someone that wasn’t Kira, and your mom seemed like a good bet.  Maybe it’d begin to stitch up and wounds left in your relationship with her.

He parked the jeep in your drive, and you looked over at him, watching as he leaned over the console, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I might take advantage of getting to do that” He told you, and you smiled softly.

“I think you are already Stilinski” You hummed back.  “Walk me to my door?” He nodded, and as expecting, jumped out of the jeep to run around, and get the door for you.  “You’re hopeless” You said, and he lifted you up, setting you down dramatically.  You giggled nonetheless, loving this randomly romantic side of him.  Stiles’ hand was clasped around yours as you walked together to your doorstep.

“Well, I had a lovely night with you y/n” He said, turning to face you, and you smiled with a nod.

“I had a lovely night with you too Stiles” You said, leaning up on the tips of your toes, the briefest moment of hesitation before you pressed your lips against his in one more sweet kiss.

“Goodnight” He whispered, nose brushing yours as you parted.

“Goodnight Stiles” You murmured back, and opened the door.  He squeezed your hand before letting go, and walking a few steps to his car.  “Stiles?” He looked back at you, and you smiled.  A beautiful, soft, angelic smile.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too”

AAAAAAANNDDD THATS ALL FOLKS! JUST FRIENDS IS NOW OVER!

ok but i’m legitimately emotional bc i gained so many followers and friends and i feel like people really liked this story, but i hope that i can improve from here, so thank you to EVERYONE for support and love and notes and ah i’m just so happy to have you guys.  i also hope i borke your hearts at some points, and that this chapter made it better lol i’m a monster

tagged: @morganschiebel, @spn--addict--i-may-need-help, @seninjakitey, and a BIG thank you to @lena-lightwood for helping me and all that yappy sappy stuff *virtual hug*

(i put the gif at the bottom so i wouldn’t spoil anything)

stay golden  xoxo ~ jordie

[obscureoperations]

And for the world record of asks, this person is back again. I’m just a huge sucker for your stories, I’m sorry bro 🤧🖤

When you have time and you feel like it why not try doing something like Martin’s s/o is a soldier and she just came home from, as my uncle said it, ‘Nam? So let’s say Martin is really excited since she’d been gone off and on for a couple years and a lot the final year it was all going on. He was getting ready to go to the air port but was working the last couple minutes of his shift. Then like a bus or something pulls up and she gets out and waits for him outside the shop. And he just kinda notices she’s like stoic and shell shocked so he tries his hardest to let her know he’s there and cares about her. I know that’s way too detailed but I’m a romantic fool for war reunitings like that. Also I apologize for the time shift lol. Hope you’re well, don’t feel like you have to write it 🖤

Ohh man, three decades later...

I really loved this ask, I thought it was really sweet<3 but apparently, I have to offer some sort of disclaimer.

I know nothing about war. I never wanted to be a solider. The closest I've got is an uncle who participated. I know nothing about Nam other than the textbooks-- and I'm not making light of anyone that died on either front. Let me just write the thing please... with no disrespect.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your voice was etched into his brain, it was one of the few things that helped him fall asleep. He read the letters every day, the weeks were pretty much a blur. All filler days until Wednesday came and you had the opportunity to call him. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but he had no idea where to start. He just wanted to listen to your voice, you seemed excited at times-- almost exaggeratedly so. He just wanted to hold you. He refused to look at the news. He couldn’t imagine you immersed in such destruction. He only skimmed through the articles in fear that he might find your name in bold print in the very back.

Despite the situation, Martin was extremely proud of you. Your bravery, the sheer commitment to your country. You always said that you were going to enlist... so it didn’t matter whether or not you were drafted. For the longest, he figured you were joking. There was no way he could Imagine you, over there. Surrounded by chaos and destruction--and death. But, you were never more sure of anything in your entire life. He heard all the stories about your father,and his numerous accomplishments and accolades from war. The way your eyes would light up whenever you talked about him. He knew that you were about to live out your dream.

You were extremely serious about your training, you always had been. He was left in awe of your sheer athleticism. Even before you even mentioned your interest in enlisting-- you seemed as though you were preparing for something.

The weeks before your departure flew by in a blur. Each moment seemed to slip through his fingers, he wanted to be around you all the time. He tried to take in every detail, from your smile to the freckles on your cheeks. The way sunlight would bounce off your hair, the feel of your hand holding his. There was only time that he actually broke down, he actually begged you not to go. “We.. we can run off somewhere.. They’d never find you. J-just please don’t leave.” The words just seemed to escape, he instantly regretted them as he buried his face against your neck. He tried to control the sobs, but they continued to roll in wave after wave. So forceful, his voice no longer sounded like his own as his fingers grasp aimlessly at the hem of your shirt.

You weren’t phased...you didn’t yell at him for asking you to put off your dream. You began to rock him, gently as your fingers card through his hair “Sweetheart..it’s alright..It's gonna be alright. I wouldn’t leave if I felt any differently.” More muffled sobs, and you hold him tighter. You could faintly hear him mumble “I’m sorry” “It’s okay.” After a while, something seemed to switch over in his brain, you never lied. There was no way that you would leave him forever. You were going to be alright. He was sure of it. Needless to say he ended up ushering you upstairs, to your room. If Cuda wondered anything about him-- that was just too bad. He was adamant on staring with you for the rest of the night.

~~

He shouldn’t be this nervous.. It was the moment he had been anticipating for years. You had been involved for the duration of the War, the Months home seemed so few and far in between. Every time you returned, he promised himself not to get disillusioned. He enjoyed the moments he had with you--but constantly had to remind himself that it was only temporary. Sure, it sounds like an awful way of living--but he refused to let himself become complacent. He didn’t want to pretend that everything was normal, and you were finally here for good. He clung to you all the tighter--seemingly finding fascination in the little things. He appreciated you so much more. The depth of your kindness,all the little things you did to show him your love.

Martin’s hands flew over the register keys in a flurry of motion. If he kept moving, his hands didn’t seem to shake. His stomach was in knots, heartbeat hammering against his ribs. He could still remember the call from yesterday at two thirty in the afternoon. It was a call directly to the store, somehow the ring didn’t sound the same. For some reason, an image of you flashed through his mind and for a moment he wanted to be sick. That was another recurring change since your departure. He was so afraid to pick up the telephone. He was so scared that someday he’d pick up the phone to be met with a stranger informing him of the worst.

He reaches for the receiver only to be met with an empty dial tone. Someone else must have grabbed it. Knowing Martin’s luck, it was probably Him. He did his best to reduce the line, scanning..bagging items in a frenzy. After a while, Cuda Moved to join him behind the counter, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The old Man had been alarmingly nice to him for the past few months. It was almost like when you first went away. Martin refused to leave his room, he’d neglect to come down for breakfast or supper. The old man would bang on the door, before slamming down the tray. “Eat! Nosferatu… I will not have you wither away in my house!” In a way your departure, and Martin’s reaction towards it left him actually human in Cuda’s eyes. He must care about the sanctity of human life just a bit. He cared about you. He tried to keep his insults to a minimum.

“Here… take it!” Cuda shoved the receiver into Martin’s hands.

He wanted to be sick… his vision began to blacken. He was expecting to be met with one of the patrol officer’s voices.

“H.. hello?”

“Baby, it’s over!”

It was you… he was so relieved.

“What?”

He could hear loud jeers from the background, muffled laughter as you spoke in the background.

“It’s over.. It’s finally over! I’m coming home on the next flight.”

From the sounds of it, you were at a pub or something, he could hear the jeers from your fellow soldiers. You seemed so overly happy, nearly frantic. He wanted to hold you so badly.

“Okay… When can I see you?” He tries to keep his voice as calm as possible. You weren’t calm in the least, he could already tell. You were simply trying to amp yourself up.. Attempting to sound excited as possible. His heart ached, just imagining everything that you’ve seen.

“Tomorrow.. Honey. Please meet me at the airport.” and with that, you hung up.

He would meet you there.

~

That night passed in a gray and grainy blur. He couldn't sleep, he kept envisioning your face. He continued to hear massive explosions, the sound of brick collapsing over mortar. Children crying as missiles explode. He had this vision of you huddled in a doorway with one of your fellow men clinging to your arm. He could almost feel your tears seeping into his shirt, Please hold me closer. Your eyes were wide and frantic as you search his face for any form of shelter.

You’re alright...y/n.. Everything’s okay. Just come back to me now

~

Once there was finally a lull in the barrage of customers, Martin found himself staring out the window. This was the day, he couldn’t wait till three thirty. He would be at the airport, eagerly awaiting for you to arrive. It must have been a smudge on the glass, or either his mind was really starting to slip. Directly outside, standing under a billboard for Pepsi cola, he saw a lone figure that eerily resembled you.

“No… couldn’t be. It was only half past noon. “

He steps in closer pretending to wipe off the glass--as he peers in through the window. All color seems to drain from his face, pins and needles. It was you. Poised directly outside the shop, at the bus stop- duffel bag resting at your feet. You looked so tired and thin, he could almost see right through you.

You looked incredibly gaunt, the delicate curves of your cheeks replaced with harsh lines and angles.Your head was tilted towards ground, you were fiddling with some small object in your hand. Martin rushes out in an instant, completely ignoring the older woman that stepped into line. Everything seemed to move in slow motion the second he barged out the door.

The cars honked at him as he darts across the street, it was mere seconds until he was at your side. Grasping at your hands. “ Y/n… love, please look at me!”

You seemed to be in a bit of a trance as you continued to fiddle with the object in hand. From the looks of it, it was a small polished stone. Martin really didn't need to know where it came from or from who. He didn’t stop to question it, all he needed was you. The moment your eyes actually met, his arms immediately moved to your waist. You nearly fainted. Whether from shock dehydration or whatever else-- you found your arms draped across his neck. He carried you inside the shop, past the customers--ignoring Cuda’s stare, all the way into the break room.

The old man’s eyes settled on you, and he decided to keep most of his complaints at bay. He was so tired of watching Martin melancholically wither away at the table. You were home now, and hopefully you'd move him out of his sight.

~

Martin rummaged through the coolers to find ice packs to place along your neck. Digging out fresh pieces of steak to soothe your swollen eyes. You could hear Cuda ranting behind the walls--you glance over to Martin fretting over the deep freezer.

“You know that it was you right?” Your voice was barely a whisper. Martin immediately drops the frozen slabs of beef in his hand, as he scrambles close to your side.

“Me what?” His fingers lightly trace over your arms as he nuzzles in close. After everything, he was not going to cry. Not again. You were actually here. The faint smell of your skin… and your shampoo. The way your right hand immediately entangles in his hair. He missed you so much. He began to tell you all the things that he wanted to say, without the restraints of parchment paper.

He wanted to take care of you. Despite your tightly starched uniform, the pins on your collar digging into his cheek, you were exhausted.. To the truest extent of the word.

You were slouched back against the brick, sitting on top of one of Cuda’s deep freezers. The sight alone reminded him of the beginning of your relationship. He wanted to scoop you up into his arms, only to escape through the back window and sprint back to your place.

But instead, he was finally looking at you, in all of your glory, and completely broken at the same time. He continued to hold you, arms draped across your waist as you murmured...

“The memory of your face..Mar-you've got me through so much. I was never gonna leave you."