#also; it seems like no matter the universe; flinch always manages to get fucked over by unicron

[soundcrusher]

Talking with Tachy about how eating Dark Energon could affect a Cybertronian in TFP sure enough was fun! And it lead to many more ideas that involved Flinch witnessing the destruction of his home world, being forced to ingest Dark Energon, because a group of Decepticon scientists were tasked to find out how much harm it could do, getting adopted by two Minicoms, escaping to earth, befriending Breakdown, and befriending a group of six Vehicons that decided to ditch the war and just live on earth. (Said Vehicons also end up kidnapping Ratchet at one point, becaude he's a medic and Flinch needs medical attention.)

All the while Eda helps him with his painful recovery.

So, a fun time over all.

Also! Some sketches of TFP Flinch, @tachyon-omlette's TFP Eda, and Flinch's Vehicon friends.

[widow-maximov]

i don’t know if anyone requested this but i can’t find a fanfiction where it’s the aftermath of what happened to natasha and wanda being happy her girlfriend is back, but sad that she and the reader lost their other girlfriend. i hope that made sense… an angsty wandanat basically lol.

I will be more than happy to do the aftermath of Natasha death and their way of processing. You also didn't specify whether it should be sad ending or happy so I gave a happy ending?

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

I'm sorry...

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Warning: Language, some fluff and a lot of angst.  enjoy :3

Summary: Y/n is finally happy with her 2 girlfriends; Natasha and Wanda but it seems as if the universe has different plans for Y/n.

Word count: 3.7k

⸻⸻⋙☸🗲⋘⸻⸻

Present

"How is that my fault?" You asked, taking a few steps away from Wanda.

She stared at you with anger "It's all your fault Y/n.. and you know it"

You didn't recognise the woman in front of you, the woman who you loved with every piece of you, the pain in your heart was worse than any injury you ever had experience and that says a lot..

6 years ago

Everything seems to be in place, you are cuddled into Natasha whilst Wanda is cuddled into you, you would've never thought that these two women would be even partly interested in you but you was wrong and now you are more than happy to be here with them.

It hasn't been long since the three of you have gotten together but it has been enough time to get really attached. It didn't take long for the three of you to sleep in one bed, to be fair it started right after you made it official. You didn't mind at all, you felt safe and that's all you really wanted.

You was trained by Natasha every morning which you hated as you always wanted to sleep in but at the same time you loved it... because like who doesn't want to be pinned down by the Black Widow?

Then eventually Wanda would join, you would be one step ahead of her and nearly being able to beat her when Natasha joined and again you ended up being on the floor with now two of them pinning you.

You definitely didn't mind, especially since they would shower you with kisses, they would tease you at how they still ended up beating you, you would roll your eyes but still enjoy these little moments, it made your mornings a lot more better.

A thought struck you as your innocent smile turned into a smirk, currently it was team movie night, the three of you under one blanket, your hand that was resting on Natasha's chest, slowly slid down her stomach, causing her breath to hitch. The movie was boring and you wanted to mess with Natasha like she always messes with you and Wanda.

You faced Wanda and she saw your smirk, she already knew what you were doing as she read your mind and just smirked back, she put her hand under the blanket and used her powers to restrain Natasha from making sudden moves.

You turned to face Natasha again, your hand going underneath her shirt, she tried to move but she noticed the restrains and her face turned towards Wanda so quickly no one would even notice it was a movement, she gave Wanda a glare as she narrowed her eyes which just caused Wanda to smirk again.

Your gaze was on Natasha this whole time to watch her reaction, your hand lingered around her breasts but then progressively it moved down and closer towards her legs.

"What are you doing?" She whispered just enough so you and Wanda could hear.

"I want to go to our room" You ignored her question and looked into her eyes, you could see some sense of lust slowly consuming them.

She let out a shaky breath when your hand stopped so close where she wanted you to be "Wanda let me go" It was a demand which only fuel the two of you.

"Are we going to leave? Or you want us to fuck you right here next to them" That's all Natasha needed to hear, Wanda knew how to push Natasha's buttons.

"I think I'm going to head to bed" Natasha spoke a little to loudly, which attracted everyone's attention.

You smirked but innocently said "Oh really? Well we will join you then"

Just like that, Wanda let go of Natasha and you moved your hand, getting up together whilst Natasha almost jumped up and rushed out of the room.

You looked over at Wanda and then back at speeding off Nat "What's the rush babe? We were thinking about a snack before bed"

Nat stopped and turned around to face you as she walked over and grabbed your hand and Wanda's "No you're not"

She looked at the team "Goodnight!" and rushed away from them whilst you and Wanda laughed.

5 years ago

"Okay, here is the plan, we need to prevent Thanos from snapping his fingers, and take that stupid gauntlet" Tony instructed and everyone agreed.

Just before you was about to shoot off to help evacuate people, Wanda with Nat pulled you into a hug "Be safe Моя любовь (My love)"

You pulled away and looked at them with a soft expression "Of course, you two as well, Wands please protect Vision and Nat be by Wanda's side, I will be back as soon as I can"

They nodded and you gave them a kiss as they let you go, you ran towards the people who didn't know what to do, and they ran towards their place.

------

You ran towards Natasha, she was on the floor, she wasn't injured but she was on the floor, she looked at you with some relief in her eyes "Go find Wanda"

You nodded but before you ran, you quickly gave her a peck on the lips and ran to find her, as you saw her, on the floor by Vision you knew this is bad. You dropped on your knees and stared at her as she muttered "I failed"

You cupped her face "Wands baby, you didn't fail, its okay"

You pulled her into a hug and that's when you saw, some of your team turn into dust, you pulled away and looked at Wanda, that's when she slowly started to dust away.

You could feel your heart crack at the sight of relief in the witches eyes "NATASHA!"

You screamed to get the redheads attention, which did work, she ran in and at the sight of Wanda disappearing, she dropped to her knees as tears were threatening to spill.

"Wanda.. Please don't leave us.." You begged as if she could just stop dusting, and just like she was gone and you let out a heart wrecking sob, Natasha crawled towards you and pulled you into her.

3 months before

Everything has changed since the blip, the way Natasha would constantly just throw herself into work to somehow find a way to bring back half of the population and Wanda.

You tried your best to help her but it was exhausting, each time she would push you away and that only hurt you more, at the start there was hugging till you couldn't breath because she was afraid that you would disappear as well.

But that changed when something in her switched, you have been trying to find a solution for 5 years even if that was on the floor of your shared room, alone because Natasha has pushed you away so far, you didn't even know if there was a way back to her.

She walked inside the room and barely even looked at you, she just gathered her stuff which made you question her "What are you doing Natasha?"

She didn't answer, making you jump up from where you were and block the way out which forced her to say something "Move out of my way Y/n"

You nearly melted on the spot from hearing her voice again but you had to put a brave face up "Not until you tell me what you are doing?"

She sighed as she didn't let up "I said move"

"I'm not going to repeat myself again, you can do this the easy way or I will force you to move" She spoke with so much anger in her tone.

"Where are you going Natasha?" You asked again but this one you had a soft expression which you knew worked on Natasha.

"I'm not staying here, now move out of my way" She simply answered as if that was a normal thing to do.

She had dark bags under her eyes, from what you can assume was no sleep "So you're leaving me?"

She rolled her eyes "The world doesn't revolve around you Y/n. I need to find a solution to bring back these people, that's what we promised to do, we promised to protect them and we failed so now move"

And just like she pushed you and started to walk towards the door "You also promised to be by our side Natasha but I guess that doesn't matter to you anymore"

She stopped in her tracks as she turned to face you once more "You knew that promise was never going to work with this job, it wasn't real"

Tears streaming down your face as you looked away from her "It was real to me and definitely to Wanda. Shame you don't think that"

"You don't know what she would've said, because she isn't here!" She snapped causing you to flinch a little, she never raised her voice at you.

Her grip on the things she was holding tighten as she saw you flinch "Just don't get in my way again or you'll regret it"

Your eyes snapped to her face "Fuck you for treating me like shit. Fuck you for doing this to us. Fuck you for threatening me, just get out of this room!" You couldn't keep all these emotions inside you, you spent the last 5 years supporting her and that's what you get in return.

She rolled her eyes and walked out, not even trying to argue with you or pull you into her embrace and apologise for acting like a jerk, she just left, leaving you to cry.

1 month before

A broken heart isn't easy to deal with, but you thought you managed just well yet to the remaining team thought differently. You would mainly throw yourself into training, doing everything to keep your mind of the whole argument, it did work but not for long.

Natasha avoided you as well, that was until the opportunity for the solution finally knocked on the door, you all were somewhat relief at the thought of everyone being back.

You walked in as Tony with some guy explained how its possible to bring everyone back, turns out its the ant man who was stuck in the Quantum Realm and he explained how it's possible to time travel. You was a little concerned but you was pulled out of it as Natasha stood next to you, you swallowed down the bubbling tears as your senses were invaded by Natasha so you naturally just moved away.

It did cause some stares to be thrown your way but you didn't care, you knew if you stood there, you would break down and it wasn't that easy to keep it inside you.

"Okay.. Okay, I will build the machine but only for the stones, nothing else. Until then everyone just prepare yourself" Tony agreed eventually and dismissed everyone.

------

"Okay, Y/n and Natasha will go to Vormir and take the soul stone-"

"Can I not just go into the field or something?" You interrupted him, caused Natasha to sigh in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?" She spoke up from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder not really caring "Yeah, now can she go with Clint or something?"

Tony rolled his eyes and just agreed with you this way the two of you wouldn't fight "Okay, fine Natasha and Clint will go, and you, Y/n will come with me"

You nodded and when Tony dismissed everyone, you walked towards the kitchen to finally eat something before going to suit up and go with Tony, but you was followed.

You knew you was followed but you simply didn't care, only when you didn't except it to be Natasha behind you "Y/n can we talk?"

You froze in place as she moved a little closed to you, you faced her and it seems as if your brain had malfunctioned at the sight of Natasha.

"I'm sorry Y/n, for being such a jackass to you. For treating you like you didn't matter. I love you and I'm really sorry" She took your silence as the opportunity to talk before you could.

"Are you kidding?" Now you spoke with disbelief.

She looked at you a little taken back which caused a "what?" to come out of her mouth.

"What do you mean what? It took you 5 years to understand how you treated me? Having time travel introduced suddenly makes it okay for you to think I will open my arms and say 'Aww baby! I have been waiting for you!'"

She shook her head "Of course it isn't okay.. I just wanted you to hear me actually say sorry, you at least deserve that. I'm really sorry Y/n and I love you so much" Her voice cracked at the end with tears in her eyes.

Looking at her so broken, it hurts you more than her leaving you. Tears in your eyes, you rush to her and embrace her in a tight warm hug, as the both of you cried quietly "I love you too Tasha"

Her heart melted at the nickname she haven't heard in so long, she pulled away and placed her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as another set of tears roll down her face, she tilted her head and kissed you, tasting your tears and her own but she didn't care.

She pulled away and whispered "I'll see you in a minute" with a small sad smile.

You smiled and let her go as you nodded, she walked off and you went to Tony after eating and suiting up.

--------

Everything seemed to work out, you had the stones and that's when you saw Clint with the last stone, you ran to him to take it and the only question you could ask is "Where is Natasha?"

He was about to answer when Tony called out to you and you had to ran to him but not before your eyes scanned around you to locate the redhead, when you failed you frowned but tried not to think so much about it, so you ran towards Tony and gave him the stones, Thanos tried his best to take it back and snap again but it didn't work because you guys were one step ahead of him, the gauntlet ended up with Bruce and he snapped his fingers even if he was in so much pain.

You turned around to see multiple portals open up and half of the population appearing again, your eyes scanned for Wanda and you caught glimpse of red, you knew it was her, you ran towards her and threw yourself at her.

"Oh my god, it's you.." You said with a shaky breath, not believing your eyes.

She hugged you back with the same affection and a kiss that was so passionate it made her head spin but soon parted to continue the fight but after watching Thanos turn to dust, you were in her arms again with more happiness than you felt during the 5 years.

Clint approached the two of you and with a sad smile and tears in his eyes "I'm so sorry"

You pulled away from the hug a little as you looked at him confused but it clicked in the instant "Where is she?!"

"What are you talking about?" Wanda asked confusion in her tone.

"The way to get the stone.. One of us had to sacrifice ourselves, it was suppose to be me but she was stubborn and she jumped"

You felt as if your heart stopped, your eyes widen at his words, Wanda's grip tighten around you as you felt anger build up in you "What do you mean she jumped?!"

Before he could even say anything, you repeated yourself "What do you mean she FUCKING JUMPED?!"

You ran your hands through your hair as you let out a shaky breath and Wanda pulled you into her, doing her thing that always calm you down, no words left her as she was shocked as well, so you stood there in her embrace, letting out a sob, similar to the one 5 years ago.

Present

There you are standing in front of Wanda as her words are laced with venom, the history repeating itself but this time with Wanda "Wands I know you don't mean what you're saying.. Don't do the same thing Natasha did to me-"

She interrupted you "She at least did the right thing, gosh it was such a mistake, all of this."

Your vision started to get clouded with tears at her words "That's not my fault that she jumped, I didn't force her-"

"YOU COULD'VE STOPPED HER Y/n!" She snapped at you, she was the calmest person you could've met but yet she changed so much in a course of a month.

"Like I could've stopped you from being dusted? I lost both of you! Not at the same time but yet it feels like it, she left me and now you're doing the same, there was nothing I could've done, you know how stubborn she is-" You tried to get your point across but she was just too angry to even listen.

"You was the last to see her and I never did so imagine how that feels... Just leave Y/n" She looked away with tears in her eyes but she held herself a little bit better than you.

You chuckled dryly as you wiped your face "You know, you are right, I could've stopped her, by being in her place instead, I'm sorry that it wasn't me but her"

She turned around to face you but you already walked out, the witch leaned on the wall as she covered her mouth to muffle a sob.

6 months later

You moved out of the compound after finding out that Tony had a spare cabin in the woods, he was more than happy to give it to you after finding out what have happened, you thanked him and gotten out of that compound, away from Wanda and everything that reminded you how much you have failed to keep the two people you loved the most.

You heard from Bucky that Wanda gotten engaged to Vision, you'll never understand how that walking air fryer has any capability to have any feelings, but if it took Wanda so fast to move on, why couldn't you?

You moved into a cabin that's only surrounded by trees so no one could hear you screaming at night with anger. You asked Tony to not tell anyone where you were, not that anyone actually cared to ask but he agreed.

You do visit Natasha's grave, place some flowers from time to time, and each time light a candle to let her know that you are always there even if she wasn't most of the time.

Right now you are sitting on the sofa as night falls, there was some noises outside which pulled your attention from the tv, you grabbed your gun and slowly walked towards the door, you opened it and pointed it ahead of you.

The person on the end of the gun wasn't someone you would expect "What are you doing here?" You lowered your gun.

The witch stood there with her hands up and a small smile "I'm here to talk"

You sighed and crossed your arms, you did your crying for the past 6 months till no tears came out, so you just stood there "What is there to talk about?"

"Can I?" She asked as she pointed to the inside of the cabin, it was warm inside but the outside was freezing so you agreed and let her in.

"How did you find me?" You asked still with your arms crossed.

"I might or might not have threatened Tony... because this is important" She confessed.

"If you are here to argue again then leave, I don't need this again-" You tried to sound with no emotions but the way you dropped your arms and just sighed gave it away you were still very hurt.

"I'm not here to argue, I'm here to apologise for what I have said, it wasn't okay, and I'm so sorry. I know you couldn't have done anything and I never blamed you Y/n, no one deserved to die the way she did, I was just angry with how I never saw her and you did and jealously is very ugly"

You shook your head "Wanda this won't fix anything, I lost the two of you, I saw you disappear in front of my eyes, she left me after that to try to bring you back along with the rest of the population, and then she died so you could be here and when I needed you the most, you did the exact thing"

"I know Y/n/n I know, I'm so sorry and I will do everything to try to be better for you, I want to be here for you because honestly I need you as well. I never stopped loving you" She was nervously playing with her rings on her fingers as tears filled her eyes.

"Wanda you are with Vision, you are practically married. Please stop I can't handle anymore pain" You admitted to her because frankly you couldn't, no matter how many times you tried to get over Wanda you couldn't. You learned how to accept that Natasha will never be back but It was still hard to be with someone apart the two of them.

"I left him, I can't be with him if its you I think about before falling asleep Y/n. So please let me make it up to you, if that's what you want or look me in the eyes and tell me that this is the end" Her breathing was unsteady by the end as she let her tears flow down her face.

You looked at her and into her eyes, you could tell her breath hitched just at you looking at her, your walls crumbled apart as you let your tears out and shake your head slowly "Okay but you best believe this wont be easy"

For the first time in so long, you saw a genuine smile on her face as she walked up to you and took you into her arms as she softly stated "I know... And I'm prepared for everything. I promise to never leave you again or hurt you.. I love you"

You sighed as you cried in her arms "I love you too дорогой (Sweetheart)"

[onepiece-writting-forest]

“Apology.”

Setting:  One Piece Universe; Zoro x Reader

Word Count: 1765

Summary: You damaged his sword a few times now and Zoro was clearly sick of it. He was frustrated which lead into anger. Anger he targeted at you. You knew he was right, and decided to apologize to him properly. This couldn’t end like this. 

!Credit to the Artist!

“That's the third time now, enough!”

He barked at you like a wild dog, and snatched the sword out of your hands. You wanted to use them a bit, just to see how it would be with a sword. He gave you permission a few times now and watched over you. He taught you some easy techniques and was quite excited to give you all of his knowledge. However, you always used his swords and in your inexperienced hands it happened that you harmed the blade. He told you to get yourself your own weapon, but since it was rather just to try out and not actually your weapon of choice for combat, you didn’t.

This was the third time. The third time you tried something with it, and accidentally cracked the tip of the sword. Zoro was patient in the beginning, he knew that it took time to learn it. But his weapons were not your toys when you were bored. He made this very clear. You watched him push it back into it’s scabbard before he stepped closer to you. The way he stood in front of you was threatening. Like a wild animal ready to lash out. He didn’t care that you were a crew member nor his friend. He had told you to be careful several times and this was enough.

“Get your own god damn sword. I’m sick of having to repair them all the time only you can play. This isn’t a game, Y/N. Swordsmanship is not a fucking game.”

You wanted to yell back and protest, however your words were stuck in your throat. You knew he was right, but you were too stubborn to admit it. Your pride was stopping you from actually listening to him and your impulsiveness had made you do it three times now. You’ve never seen him this angry and it scared you. Your body instinctively stepped back and you flinched at his words. Zoro was still standing in front of you, eyebrows deeply narrowed. His body language spoke aggression, which he tried to hold back. You made the string of patience rip.

Quickly you left the crows nest and disappeared into your shared room with the other two ladies. Nami and Robin had heard your argument and looked at each other, before following you into the bedroom. With your friends by your side, you quietly cried over your mistake.

“It’s better you apologize to him. As mad as he is, he will calm down after you do.”

“Are you sure? I doubt he wants to see my face again.” You sniffed and clinged onto your pillow. Robin nodded reassuringly and gently stroke your back. She didn’t want to remind you that what you did was indeed somewhat stupid, and Zoro was right. Nami was in the same boat. It was better to look ahead and look for a solution to get along with your crewmate again.

“Of course. I remember when Usopp wanted to leave the crew and basically dragged Luffy through the mud, Zoro gladly accepted him back when he apologized. He’s a simple man Y/N, and in no way someone who holds grudges for a long time.” Nami smiled at you and gave you a tissue to wipe those tears away. Hearing that, made you think for a moment. They’ve told you that story before, they probably knew the swordsman better than you did, considering you were rather new in comparison to Nami and Robin. You nuzzled your face into the pillow a bit and nodded.

“I will. Thank you.”

The next day when Zoro woke up, his hand automatically grabbed to his swords. With a yawn he put them besides his hip where they belonged to. Wado Ichimonji, Kitetsu...Shusui…wait.

“Shusui?” Confused he looked around in the room. His third sword was missing. He swore he left it next to him. He looked in his bed, in his closet, in the other beds and closets. It couldn’t be...did he leave it in the crows nest? He remembered he put all three swords aside before he went to sleep. “Fuck where did I leave it…” He mumbled to himself and looked through everything again. No matter how many times he looked in the room, he couldn’t find it.

Frustrated he walked on deck and searched there for his weapon. Usopp was sitting in the gras of the Sunny and noticed his crewmate walking around in distress. Before the sniper could question his mood, Zoro spoke up already. “Usopp, did you see Shusui?” He pointed at his hip where only two of his signature swords were. The other man shrugged and shook his head. “Nah, didn’t see it.”

“I saw Y/N leaving with it into town.”

A high voice pitched from the other side. It was Chooper, who was holding some drink in both of his hoofs. He sipped it slowly and looked at Zoro with his big deer eyes, like the innocent little thing he was. The swordsman tensed up noticeably and sighed. He clenched his hands into fists. It made Chopper back off a little. He was clearly mad at you taking his sword again. Zoro thought you haven’t learned your lesson and assumed you were messing around with it. How many times did he have to tell you to stop it. He already snapped at you yesterday. He wondered how stubborn you actually were. Maybe you did it on purpose he wasn't sure. But enough was enough.

“Z-Zoro...w-wait what's the matter?” Usop watched him stomping off the sunny with confusion. He wasn’t on the ship yesterday, therefore didn’t hear the argument you had. The anger his friend was radiating was irritatingly strong. He’d never seen him this angry at you. “What was that…”, the sniper mumbled to himself, before he shrugged and continued to work.

You had some business in town which you just finished. The way back to the harbour was quite calming, it was a small little road through a little forest area. The atmosphere surely helped your nervosity. Robin had helped you get Zoros sword while he slept. The weapon was wrapped in fabric and strapped on your back. It should be a little surprise along with the little bag you had in your hand. You dearly hope he would forgive you. You felt sorry for what you did and didn’t want to risk your friendship to continue like this.

Sadly, the surprise wasn’t one for long. In the distance you could see the owner of the said sword. His posture was giving you clear signs. Zoro was mad, yet again because of you. He must have noticed his sword was missing. Obviously. You had hoped to get back to the ship before he woke up, which clearly failed. You swallowed hard when he stomped to you and grabbed your collar.

“Z-Zoro, please let me explain!”

You rose your hands in defense when he handled you this roughly. His fingers were dug deep into the fabric of your shirt, an iron grip which you couldn’t escape. His eyes shot from you, to his sword on your back. Seeing the fabric around it, he narrowed his eyes. “Did you break it now?! I swear to god if you-”

“Let me explain Zoro, I beg you.” Your voice was filled with fear that he’d be mad for you forever. The expression you gave him through your eyes made him hold still for a second. He frightened you. You looked like a scared animal ready to run away and hide. With a sigh he let go, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Fine. Speak.”

“I...I wanted to apologize…” Zoro raised one eyebrow when you grabbed behind your back to his sword. You placed the bag in your hand on the ground to remove the fabric from the weapon. The scabbard was shining in the sun. Someone polished it, even the little scratched in the wood were gone and a fresh layer of polishing wax was on it. You pulled the black blade out, the one you broke the tip off. The metal was shining as well, sharp like new. Zoro eyes widened when he saw his sword. He was speechless. It seemed like you brought his sword to a blacksmith to- not only repair the blade -but also give it a clean up. It looked fantastic, he didn’t know what to say. “Y-You…”

“And this.” You put the sword back into it’s scabbard and handed it over to him. Zoro gladly took it, still speechless. The bag on the ground was also for him. You gave it to the swordsman as well. A delicious smell hit his nostrils. He didn’t have to look inside to know that it was the smell of smoked eel. It was still warm even. With his sword in one and, and the food in the other, he stood there completely baffled. He didn’t expect this and didn’t know how to react. His eyes wandered from the food to his sword. However, when you spoke up, Zoro faced you again.

“I’m sorry for acting like that. I know swordsmanship is not a game, I apologize for disrespecting. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Zoro stood there in silence for a second, before he sighed deeply. He put his sword back and stroke through his hair. He felt like he had to apologize as well. He was way too rude to you. The way he had grabbed you earlier obviously had scared you. It wasn’t his intention. Zoro didn’t want to scare you off like that. “It’s alright. I guess I should apologize for being that rough.”

With a relieved smile you shook your head. You were more than happy that Zoro accepted your apology. That was more important. “Already forgotten...I hope you like smoked eel by the way.” Zoro nodded with a small smile on his features, and sat down on the side of the road. He motioned next to him. “Hope you do as well.”

Together you sat next to each other and emptied the little box full of delicious rice and eel. Zoro asked you how you managed to get his sword and how you found that blacksmith. You quickly explained which made him grin a little. You were a bit clumsy with swords but you surely were witty. Soon you two drifted into some conversation about god and the world, as if nothing happened. Nami was right, Zoro wasn’t someone who held grudges long. Especially not with this kind of apology.

[nervousladytraveler]

Anonymous Said: Showing affections Prompt #44--Tummy Kisses

(from the Like Someone universe)

“Sit still,” Demelza ordered and put an ice pack to Ross’s eye. He winced from the cold but knew better than to argue. She’d been eerily calm this whole time, from the moment he showed up on their doorstep, his nose bloodied, his shirt torn, his right eye swollen. She still appeared calm, but moved about the bedroom with an urgency of mission.

Her light fingers unbuttoned his shirt and examined his bruised side. Even though her brow furrowed and her lips were pulled tight, her face was inscrutable. She was standing next to him, tending to his needs, yet she was far away.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled but gasped when touched.

“Is that so? You don’t look fine and you certainly don’t sound fine,” she huffed. Was that impatience and anger?

“Do you think you should see a doctor?” she asked. Now her tone seemed to betray worry.

“No!”

“Ross, what if your ribs are broken?” She took the ice pack from his eye and gently put it to his ribs.

“They’re not broken,” he managed to hiss between throbs of pain.

“And how would you know that?” she laughed. He was glad to see the change in her expression, even if it meant she thought him a complete idiot.

“I’ve broken a rib before,” he explained. “This doesn’t feel like that.”

He took a deep breath to show her, then covered her hand with his, hoping he could reach her. It seemed to work for when she next spoke, she couldn’t disguise the tenderness in her voice.

“Oh? In the army?” she asked cautiously. He never spoke of his experience in Cyprus just like she never talked about her childhood.

“No, I fell off a horse when I was sixteen.” It was a painful memory and thinking about it wasn’t helping him feel better now.

“Were you pissed or just showin’ off?”

“Both, as I recall.” He gave a weak smile, fairly certain a laugh would hurt too much.

Ross took the ice from her and moved it back to his eye, then considered putting it to his puffy lip. He hadn’t looked in the mirror but expected he was a ghastly sight. He still held his right hand aloft, as if the scraped knuckles were his biggest injury.

“Do you think George will file a complaint?” she asked.

Taking his cue, she took his hand in hers to examine it. When she dabbed the split skin with cotton wool soaked in surgical spirit, it stung horribly. Surely she knew that it would. Could it be that she enjoyed watching him flinch? She was rapidly cycling between moods again.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I doubt it. He might find it humiliating to admit he was…”

“Beat up? That is, can I assume it wasn’t Warleggan that threw the first punch?”

“You can--and you’d be correct.”

“And you still won’t tell me what George said that made you so enraged?” She held his chin and looked into his eyes for one agonizing moment, then perhaps sensing his discomfort, released him.

“No, no I won’t.” Ross was firm on that score. It was better she never know. George’s insult would be something she couldn't unhear or easily forget.

“You are so fuckin’ stubborn,” she mumbled and stepped back to give him another head to toe appraisal.

Trickles of blood from his nose had stained the front of her hoodie. He hated seeing that on her, hated himself for bringing that into their home.

“Of course George wouldn’t actually hit another grown man unless egged on.” She laughed but Ross thought he heard a note of tired resignation. “If he wanted to hurt someone or even ruin them, he’d use his snarky attitude or his money, not his fists. Seems like maybe he’s a wiser man.”

“Than me?” Ross sputtered. She couldn’t mean it.

“I don’t understand, Ross!” She ignored his question and plopped down on the bed next to him. Yes, it was tired resignation. “Why is George Warleggan such a menace to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s hardly sudden. He’s been after Carnmore for years, and now? Now, his shadow lurks over the Trenwith Poldarks too. He’s interfering with my family…”

“I thought we were your family. Us--here at Nampara?” she interrupted.

“Demelza,” he exhaled, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words. “Of course, you are my family...”

“Yet it was a threat from George to Elizabeth that provoked you…” she began.

“Demelza…” he sighed.

Again she ignored him and after a quick eye roll, continued. “Sorry, a threat to Elizabeth and Uncle Charles made you hit him?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” It hurt to shake his head.

“Whatever. Okay Ross, take your shirt off entirely,” she ordered and rose to her feet again. “Trousers too.”

“What are you doing?” he asked. Without thinking he obeyed her command and began the valiant struggle to free himself from his clothes. It took longer than he expected and he was grateful when she removed his trousers for him so he didn't have to bend over.

“We need photos of your injuries. In case George does pursue charges, we’ll have a record of the damage he did to you.” She’d pulled her mobile from her pocket and began taking pictures of his nose, his mouth. She tilted his head to get a better angle of his eye, then she gave him a soft kiss on his temple.

She had no idea how much he needed that--or maybe she did.

“Okay, now your hand. Consider it evidence,” she went on.

“Evidence that I hit him,” Ross said, then taking a chance, he held his hand up and flashed his more imploring eyes. She took the bait and gave his knuckles a kiss.

“Now for your side, I need more light. Can you stand? Or maybe lie down? No, sit up but just turn this way…”

“Ugh!” he groaned, unable to hide the difficulty in even a slight twist of his torso.

“Ross! Fucking hell! If it hurts that much to turn...”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Without touching him, she took a few snaps of his ribs, then sat down again. This time it sounded like a sigh and whimper collected in her throat.

“Ross,” she said, her head slipped into her hands.

He rubbed her back, aware that he was now soothing her. He’d prefer to take her in his arms but doubted he had the mobility to pull that off.

“Demelza? I know you’re angry at me…” he began.

“No, Ross. It isn’t that simple.”

“You think that I'm not listening to you…”

Intrigued, she looked up and raised one brow. She was clearly listening.

“I am--I mean, I do listen,” he said.

She put her hand on his thigh. It felt good, mostly because he welcomed her touch but also because his legs were among the only parts of his body not throbbing in pain.

“Yes, Ross,” she said softly.

His heart sank. It wasn't what she said, but what she didn’t say.

Of course.

She’d grown up in a household of unpredictable anger and physical brutality--a world she took great pains to leave behind when she came to Nampara. For Ross to cavalierly and unapologetically engage in that very same behavior, was not just a disappointment, but a betrayal of her trust. She had to know the man she loved wouldn’t ever bring violence into her life--even if he was capable of it.

He had to show her.

“Demelza, I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

“And I won’t ever again...”

“Don't make promises Ross. Just try your best,” she said softly. “And just know that I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“And George Warleggan certainly isn’t worth all this,” she snorted.

“No, he’s not,” he agreed then felt the need for some levity. “I’ll choose better enemies in future.”

“Oh?” It worked. She was amused.

“Like...an angry bear. What if I promise to only resort to violence again if I need to defend you from a bear?”

“Bears have been extinct on this isle for 1500 years,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wolves?”

“No wolves--gone since the 16th century.” She smiled at yet another factual triumph.

“I’m always impressed with how much you know,” he laughed. “You really did pay attention in school, didn't you? Okay...only if I need to defend you from a madman…”

“Close, but still not quite good enough. It would have to be a madman with a knife,” she suggested. “Or of course a madwoman--with a knife.”

“That sounds fair,” he nodded and took her hand again, tracing her fingers with his thumb.

“Ross, love, lie down and I’ll get you some more ice.”

“I don't want ice. Just your kisses.” He suppressed a groan as he managed to stretch out on the bed.

“Oh?“ she laughed. “Kisses won’t bring down the swellin’ or ease the pain.”

“Yes, they most certainly will ease it. They’ll give me pleasure.” He pulled her down level with him.

“But I might hurt you!’ she cried and began to pull away.

“No you won’t. I’ll show you. Start here.” He pointed to a spot on the side that had managed to escape injury from left-handed George.

“Yes, Ross,” She gingerly kissed his external oblique then pulled away with a giggle.

“Now here.” A little lower. This time she lingered a little longer.

“And here…” Ross knew those lips and what they were capable of. He closed his eyes and struggled to let himself go.

Her open mouth on his skin moved him but he tried not to react too much to the exhilaration. Even small movements brought agony. Her hands were no longer tentative, and with inspired strokes, she traced along the noticeable groove his ligaments made connecting his middle to his groin.

Without waiting for his directive, she moved a few inches inward along his waistline and gave another kiss.

“Now my tummy.”

“Tummy?” She looked up at him, eyes bright, teeth gleaming in an uncontrollable smile.

He’d never used that word with her before to describe his abdomen. She seemed to see he was aiming for a laugh and was willing to play along.

She kissed his navel, careful to stay on the unbruised side of his body.

“Yes, tummy.” He pointed to the shadowy region that crept up from the top of his boxers.

“Um Ross? That’s not your tummy.”

[catboymingi]

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn’t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

//

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?” 

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...being a demon and hunting Dean down

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean says he knows you better than anybody, you’re surprised to find out that you may have more of a history with the Winchesters than you can remember...

Warnings: very slight Season 15 *SPOILERS* for like a paragraph; mentions of “need to kill”; slight angst and open-ish ending, but implied TFW 2.0 win

A/N: Written for @wayward-mikaelson​‘s #Daily Imagine Prompt and (unintentionally) for @winchester-reload​‘s #Suptober20 day 4 prompt “Brand” (even though I’m working on my actual entry sketches!)  Idk where this came from and it took a weird route. Also, there’s an unintentional...nod? paraphrasing maybe? of dialogue from CA: The Winter Soldier, so credit to the MCU writers for permanently snaking their way into my subconscious because my love for Steve and Bucky apparently knows no bounds.

“If it isn’t the notorious Dean Winchester,” you sneered. “As fun as this little game of cat and mouse has been, you Winchesters are really starting to piss me off.”

They’d been tailing you all across the country and you’d had enough. Sure, you were a demon, but it wasn’t like you set out to hurt anyone. As long as everyone else could mind their own business, you liked to think you were pretty easygoing. 

…aside from a few bloody slip ups here and there but, hey, who was counting?

At least you weren’t one of those crossroad douches in the soul collecting business. You preferred to spend your time topside, having fun and wreaking a little havoc now and again. It had been going just fine until those plaid-wearing pests became obsessed with you. Eventually you’d decided to hunt them down for a change so you could finally get a little peace.

You hadn’t spotted the tall, sasquatch Hunter yet, but you’d caught the green eyed one by surprise and knocked him to his knees. Glaring down at him with a smirk, you kept a firm hold on the pressure point of his shoulder to make sure he stayed right where you wanted him.

“Did the cat catch your tongue? Because, with all of our showdowns lately, I was expecting a little more of that quick wit you always seem to have stowed away.”

If you were being honest, he was a pretty fine piece of ass and you wouldn’t mind going a round or two with him under different circumstances. Even with the dopey look of intensity on his face, laced with...something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Distress? Of course it would make sense for him to feel that way--you were a demon after all. Was there a hint of longing in the way he was staring at you? Maybe he couldn’t help thinking you were attractive despite what you were.

Who cares? You practically growled at yourself, chasing away something nagging in the back of your mind that told you there was more to his reaction. Pretending you didn’t actually care because you were incapable of such feelings anymore.

“D’you remember me?” he asked, eyes darting back and forth between yours.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. And it was really hard not to get caught up in his eyes. Why did that piss you off so much?

“Of course I do. You two meatheads have been on my ass everywhere across this godforsaken world,” you spat. “I know we’ve had a grand ol’ time and all, but listen up because I’m only going to say this once-- Leave. Me. Alone. If I catch you two on my tail again, I won’t be such a ray of fucking sunshine.”

He studied you for a long moment, seemingly unfazed by your threat.

“What do you remember about becoming a demon?”

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question. “What does that have to do with anything? And why the hell would it matter to you?”

“Because it does. Now I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you don’t remember a whole lot about what happened to you. That there’s some gaps you just can’t seem to fill in.”

“And let me guess--you just happen to have all the answers to that because you know me so well?”

“I do. I know you better than anybody.”

You weren’t sure what game he was trying to play or how he could possibly know how disconcerting it was that you couldn’t recall a damn thing before the last month or two. Your life as a human, your time in hell-- you didn’t have the slightest idea who you were or what had happened to you.

But there was no way you were going to listen to some Winchester--even if your gut told you he was telling the truth.

“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, seething with defiance.

“You know me--”

“No I don’t,” you snarled, unsure why his words were making you feel so unsettled.

“Your name is Y/N L/N. You’ve known me and Sammy your whole life. You--ngh--”

He flinched and groaned in pain when you tightened your grip, digging your thumb into the hollow area just below the crook of his neck and above his collarbone. With your other hand, you withdrew a large blade from the side holster you’d crafted yourself.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had enough of the foreplay.”

Dean threw a sidelong glance at the weapon. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw and fixed his olive eyes on you again.

“I know you’ve been bouncing around looking for answers on that blade. Just like I know that underneath that jacket of yours you’ve got a mark on your arm. And I know from the small trail of bodies you’ve been leaving behind that you’re trying to fight that hunger you have to kill anything and everything around you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice quivered between your gritted teeth.

“It’s called the Mark of Cain. And that right there is the First Blade.” He nodded toward the weapon without a trace of deceit on his face. “I know the calm you feel when you’ve got the blade in your hand. And that power flowing through you? It scares the hell out of you.”

You grimaced, placing the antique blade against his throat as your chest began to heave from the growing rage pulsing through your veins. What gave him the right to pretend he knew a damn thing about you? 

Maybe he was right. Maybe you could admit the power did scare you sometimes. You didn’t exactly give a shit about right and wrong, but the overwhelming urge to kill left you feeling out of control. It was why you were trying to uncover answers about the brand on your arm. Why you were fighting a losing battle with the trembling hand gripping the blade now-- you wanted answers and you needed him to keep talking.

“How do you know all of this?” you demanded.

He swallowed uncomfortably and the blade bobbed against his Adam’s apple. “It was Chuck--uh, God. You’re a Hunter, Y/N. You, me, Sam, Cas, Jack--we’re family. Chuck’s trying to end the world and we were working to stop him. On our last run-in with him...we thought he killed you. But it turns out he sent you to some other universe he’d created. In this world I had the Mark and, when I died, I became a demon. In the other world he tossed you into, we think that’s what happened to you. ‘Bout a month or two ago, somehow you found your way back to this world and we’ve been trying to track you down ever since.”

Furrowing your brow, your eyes fell away from him as glimpses of the events he’d described flashed through your mind. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to latch onto fragments of the hazy memories emerging from the depths of your subconscious...

Dean screaming your name, face contorted with horror. A small man with graying hair and a wicked grin snapping his fingers. Your hand gripping someone’s forearm, just as his strong hand grasped yours. The deep red energy that flowed from his arm to yours, searing through your veins until the Mark bubbled to the surface of your skin--the scar that was always itching to let the darkest parts of you reign free. 

“We can help, Y/N. Me and Sam can fix this.” Dean’s gruff voice was resolute as he briefly glanced away and begged you to consider his offer. “Just come with us and we can cure you.”

His words stirred something in your chest, making you realize he had triggered the faint prick of some long forgotten emotion. A small part of you longed to go with him, but it was miniscule and insignificant when you considered that “fixing this” might mean getting rid of the Mark. 

Despite the fear and lack of control it brought you, you were unwilling to give up the power or the blade. It was an addiction you had no intention of overcoming.

“Maybe I don’t want to be cured. The way I see it? There’s nothing to fix. Time to say goodnight, Dean-O.”

You raised the blade but, before you could strike, something cinched around your wrist. When the power coursing through you became dull, you turned in surprise to see that Sam had secured your wrist in one end of the cuffs he held. He reached for the blade with his free hand and swiftly dodged you when you lunged at him after releasing your hold on Dean. 

Snarling in rage, you again swung at Sam while he tried to wrestle the blade from your grasp. Dean suddenly collided with your back, circling his arms around you as he pinned your limbs to your sides. You thrashed your head and screamed as you tried to escape, but his cheek was pressed between your shoulder blades, tucked safely away from your efforts of fracturing his nose with the back of your skull.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he grunted, arms tense as he squeezed you tighter. “We’re gonna fix this. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

“Dean, I still...can’t...she’s too strong,” Sam grumbled.

You continued struggling while you gripped the blade with every bit of strength you had. As you fought the boys, you spotted a young man in a tan jacket walking toward you who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked vaguely familiar and you surged toward him out of instinct, knowing he was a greater threat than the men holding you.

His hair was side swept, with a few of the sandy colored strands grazing his forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together over soft eyes, brimming with an array of emotions. The boy raised his hand in greeting, smiling in relief as if he’d managed to find a long lost family member. 

“Hello, Y/N... We’re going to help you. I promise. Sam and Dean will find a way to fix this.”

“Do it, Jack!”

“Any time now, kid.”

The boys shouted in unison and you paused for a fraction of a second as another series of memories flooded you. Before you could make sense of them, Jack reached out and pressed two fingers to your forehead.

Your knees buckled and your eyes fluttered closed as you slipped into unconsciousness.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms​  @amanda-teaches​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @crist1216​  @droidyouseek​  @emoryhemsworth​  @ericaprice2008​  @flawless-disaster​  @janeyboo​  @jenn0755​  @ksgeekgirl​  @maresmiley​  @memyselfandmaddox​  @notyourtypicalrose​  @randomparanoid​  @rynabarnesrogers​  @sandlee44​  @scarletsoldierrr​  @shann-the-artist-moon​  @sheerioasteroidpanda​  @shynara51​  @someday-when-you-leave-me​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​  @torntaltos​  @waywardbaby​  @waywardrose13​  @weebid​  @whimsicalrobots​  @wintersoldierbaby​  @wintersoldierissucharide  @yesfanficsaremylife​

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​  @alexwinchester23​  @bi-danvers0​  @deangirl7695​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​  @fandomoniumflurry​  @pisces-cutie​  @supernaturalenchanted​  @superromijn​  @waywardnerd67​  @x-waywardaf-x​

[the-13th-rose]

Whumptober 2021 Day 5 - Misunderstanding

Universe: Currently unnamed horror crossover

Characters: Annie (oc), The Miner (My Bloody Valentine)

Content warnings: Broken bones, vomit (character is briefly said to have thrown up, but it isn’t addressed again)

All of my writing is intended for a teen audience or older, unless otherwise stated! My writing often contains violence, strong language, and/or horror, so please use your head and don’t read my work if you think you might be triggered by it.

Summary: Annie is a young woman cursed to be eternally pursued by Hunters, various fictional slashers that come from the media Annie has seen in the past. She’s sick of the cycle, and unbeknownst to her, so is one of the Hunters, who she’s led to an abandoned factory. The Hunter, however, doesn’t speak, and Annie isn’t willing to pay attention to his attempts at forming a truce, still fully convinced he’s trying to kill her.

Word count: 2,261

Oh, Annie. Unfortunate Annie, whose mother unwittingly crossed a witch in her youth. Yes, a witch who saw fit to curse not the “crosser” herself, but her future firstborn instead. It was a wicked curse, designed not to go into effect until the firstborn reached her 18th year, so that she could become fully accustomed to a fear-free existence before having it ripped away from her. And the effects of the curse? To spend eternity pursued by monstrous Hunters. Annie found herself unable to die at all unless by the hand of a Hunter, and upon meeting her end at the hands of one, she would awaken in the morning of that same day, forced to re-do the events of the day. On days when a Hunter pursues her, Annie would have to survive its attempts to kill her until the break of the next day, or be forced to continue repeating the day until she managed to survive the encounter. This was Annie’s fate. To never truly know peace, for death to never be a release.

So, understandably, Annie had no patience for these Hunters anymore. She’d taken to a more proactive approach to survival, opting to fight back against the Hunters instead of simply running away or hiding. She wasn’t always successful in besting the Hunters, but her infinite re-dos allowed her to train and improve. By now, she’d become quite adept at fighting off and defeating the Hunters that pursued her. In fact, it had resulted in them leaving her alone for longer periods of time than before. Unfortunately, it had also forced them to get craftier. Annie and the Hunters were locked in a seemingly infinite arms race.

When one of the Hunters decided he’d had enough of the endless cycle as well, he saw befriending the cursed girl as his best option for a chance to break it, and finally stop being tethered to the curse. Unfortunately, he just so happened to be selectively mute, which would no doubt make explaining himself to Annie quite difficult.

Fleeing a pursuing Hunter Annie had designated “The Miner”, she soon found herself in the middle of an abandoned factory. As strange as it might seem, Annie had deliberately fled to this location, in the hopes of having an advantage over the Miner. Since he typically attacked with wide swings of his pickaxe, narrow corridors and paths surrounded by broken-down machinery would surely impede his attempts to attack her.

Panting, Annie paused in the middle of the old work floor. “Man, don’t you guys ever get tired?” She called out to the approaching Miner. “Seriously, though, how do you manage to make keeping up with someone for multiple city blocks look so effortless?”

The Miner stopped in the middle of the floor, mere feet away from Annie. Now that she looked closer, Annie noticed that he actually did appear somewhat winded, slouching a bit and breathing a little heavily through his gas mask.

“Guess you’re only as immortal as me, huh?” Annie quipped. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to make herself appear dangerous. “Well come on, take your best shot! I’m fucking tired, man. I want to go home and sleep, already!”

The Miner shook his head, which confused Annie a little. “...No?” Annie huffed. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Why would you follow me this far if you’re not trying to kill me?”

The Miner took a few steps closer to Annie, which she responded to by backing away and reaching for her survival knife, concealed in her pants pocket. Against a pickaxe, it wouldn’t do much good, but that’s what the tight corridors were for. She just had to make sure she led him into them. It didn’t really register to Annie that the Miner had his signature weapon still upon his belt, rather than holding it out, ready to attack.

What is your deal? Annie wondered, squinting angrily at the Hunter. Oh well. Doesn’t matter. I just have to keep you from giving me a re-do. “Hey, if you’re not going to leave me alone, then keep following me. I want to show you something,” she said to the Hunter, as she walked backwards towards the stairs leading up to an overhead walkway.

The Miner was no fool. At this point, he could tell Annie was trying to trick him. All the same, he had a goal in mind, and whatever half-baked trick Annie had up her sleeve wasn’t going to make him give up and turn away. So, still keeping his hands free of his weapon, a gesture he hoped she’d notice, he followed Annie as she slowly led him onto the walkway.

“That’s right…,” Annie encouraged the Hunter. “Right this way…”

The Miner followed her to the overhead walkway. They were both quite a distance from the factory floor now, surely far enough to cause serious injury if either of them were to fall.

“Miner, I brought paper, so you can talk to me for once,” Annie spoke up at last, rummaging in her pockets. “Get closer so I can give it to you. I can’t just throw it at you, that’d be rude. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get close if I didn’t trust you, right? That just doesn’t make sense.”

The Miner tilted his head at her words, but admittedly, the idea of being able to actually explain himself to her was too enticing. Sure, it could be a trick, but if need be, he could defend himself. Surely against someone like Annie. And so the Miner walked forward, closer and closer to Annie, until he was right in front of her. He held out one hand, waiting for the paper to be placed into his hand.

Annie rifled through her pocket for a moment, and then, when she thought his guard was at its lowest, she swung outward towards him with her survival knife.

The Miner lunged back, stumbling backwards at first, but quickly catching his footing. As he backed away from her rather reckless knife-swinging, he reached for his pickaxe and held it out in front of Annie to block her knife strikes.

“Come on, you’re just gonna play defense this time?!” Annie snapped, fury burning in her eyes. “What happened to swinging your pick through my face? Into my chest? You could knock me off this walkway, easy! Why won’t you try?! You’re being so weird!!!”

The Miner didn’t change his strategy, merely continuing to step backwards as Annie advanced towards him.

“Come on! I don’t want to be the only one on offense, here! It feels weird!”

Lunging towards him, Annie got in a lucky strike and her knife scraped across the Miner’s fingers. In reacting to this, he dropped his pickaxe onto the floor of the walkway. The weight of the impact must have knocked something loose in the rusted, worn metal, because in the next moment, the panel he stood on fell out from underneath him.

Annie had a split-second of expecting him to hang there in the air for a moment like they do in cartoons. Instead, he fell through instantly. The impact noise his body made against the factory floor made her wince, despite her intentions of harming him.

Annie peered over the walkway’s railing to the floor below.

The Miner was crumpled against the floor, splayed out on his back. His legs were bent horribly out of their proper positions. Even from 20 feet above, she could tell they were totally wrecked. This Hunter wasn’t going anywhere now. At least, not any faster than he could drag himself.

Annie looked behind her, knowing she couldn’t leave the walkway the same way the Miner had. She didn’t want to stay up there, either, considering that the rest of the walkway could easily be just as fragile. So she slowly turned around and gingerly, yet quickly, made her way towards the stairs at the other end of the walkway.

The Miner came back to his senses, having been momentarily dazed by the fall. He tried to sit up, propping his body up with his arms. The pickaxe that had sent him plummeting in the first place was lying a good few feet away. When he tried to move towards it, however, he was met with a wave of sharp agony shooting through his legs. Out of impulse, he let out a scream. He turned to inspect the state of his legs, and...was met with disgustingly wrong angles and a small spot of white through a new hole in his pant leg. Recognizing this as bone, he cried out in shock and frantically lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth.

Annie heard him retch as she reached the bottom of the steps without incident. She lingered by the bottom of the steps for a moment, unsure if she should get near him to finish him off, despite him not looking like he could possibly put up a fight at this point. She walked over to him as he replaced the gas mask and the noise-amplified breaths resumed, heavy and fast.

“...” Annie kept the hilt of the knife gripped tightly in her hand. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” She called out to him. “Maybe that’ll finally teach you to leave me alone, next time you come back. Why don’t you tell your Hunter buddies about this, get them off my back too, huh?”

Annie raised her knife as she stood beside him, poised for the perfect final stab. But as she looked over him, noticed his body language, and watched him flinch away from her final blow, shutting his eyes, which she was only just now seeing underneath the lenses of his mask. And her grip faltered, until she wound up dropping the knife altogether. “Dammit,” she swore, stamping her foot against the floor in frustration. “I really thought I’d be able to do it this time….I’m not really a killer, am I?”

The Miner shook his head, before slouching over and trying to pull his legs along with him. Merely touching them caused him to throw his head back in pain.

“...I guess this would be more of a mercy thing than self-defense at this point, huh?” Annie muttered, mostly thinking out loud. “...Yeah, so I led you here with the intention of killing you as a way to send a message. But I guess I’m kind of pathetic. At least when you’re pathetic, too. Now I can’t do it.”

“...I also didn’t really have paper.”

At this, the Miner shot her a glare, but quickly returned to flinching over his wounds.

“...I can’t believe I’m saying this but...sorry.” Annie muttered, running her hand through her hair. “...You really were just defending. You totally could have killed me back there, but you didn’t, so...dammit, maybe I misjudged you. At least this time, anyway. Because, like, you have killed me before.”

The Miner shrugged half-heartedly, leaning back on his arms and staring at the ceiling, every now and then squeezing his eyes shut and hissing through his mask.

Annie pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “...11:30 pm?” She slipped it back into her pocket. “Didn’t feel that late…” She shrugged. “Well, at least I’ve only got to survive for 30 more minutes. She eyed the knife at her feet, and the pickaxe lying a little ways away. “...Do you need a weapon to...reset?” It felt incredibly awkward to ask, but he did seem to be in horrible pain.

The Miner shook his head, gesturing first to his legs, and then to Annie’s phone. The answer seemed clear.

“...You guys reset at midnight?” Annie guessed, to which the Miner weakly nodded. “...Still, 30 minutes is a long time with something that bad. Are you sure--?”

The Miner shook his head, and started pulling at his clothes, trying to tear off a strip of fabric.

“...Oh. I guess I can try to patch you up for now.” Annie replied, turning around to search for a first aid kit or some kind of fabric to turn into makeshift bandages. “...My clothes are cleaner,” she muttered, picking up the knife and carefully cutting strips from the hem of her shirt. “There’s not much, it probably won’t really help, but…” She started gingerly wrapping the strips around his legs.

He gave a loud, sudden cry when she touched his legs, and screamed at her attempts to set the bones. It was horribly amateur. Annie clearly didn’t really know what she was doing, but it was better than her trying to kill him again, he figured.

“Um…” Annie would have to admit it didn’t look very good at all. “Well...it’s only 20-something more minutes,” she tried to reassure him.

The Miner groaned, leaning back on his arms again.

“...Sorry, again, for being too dense to realize you weren’t trying to kill me this time…,” Annie sighed. “I’m just so sick of all this. Was...was that what you were trying to tell me? That you’re sick of this, too, and you want to form a truce?”

He threw his hands down against the floor in frustration, then nodded.

“...Guess I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. Well, at least you get to reset after all this. If you really mean it, I’m willing to forget about all the times you killed me...you gonna forget about the whole ‘breaking your legs’ thing?”

The Miner sighed, but nodded slowly and held out a hand for Annie to take.

“Alright. We’ll shake on it.”

[between-two-fandoms]

Thunder In His Mind

Another Franken Fic for your reading pleasure, brought to you by @thesevenumbrellas and @random-nerd-3, sponsored by the JatP 18 + Discord.

Ao3 link here

cw: past-gaslighting, trauma, ptsd

Summary:

There's more to Willie than what meets the eye and Alex has to find out in one of the worst ways possible. It's all Willie can do to not fall apart in his arms during a thunderstorm.

The worst part about being a ghost Willie thinks, is - that he knows - is that you can’t really check the weather. There are plus sides to it sure, skateboarding wherever he wants - but not whenever because that’s something Caleb controls - an extremely cute Hot Dog ghost boyfriend? Also a plus to being undead. The weather is an issue though, it had been for years. Ever since the day he died in that car accident. Being dead meant you can’t feel anything physically; you can’t feel the heat of the sun against your skin or the wetness of the rain when it fell from the sky.

The issue at hand is the thunder.

It’s the thunder because the loud echoing booming claps of the storm reminds him of the ear shattering crack that cut through the air when he died. When he skated into the road to save the life of a little girl who forgot to look both ways. “My name is Rose,” she whispered, tightly squeezing Willie’s hand between her tiny fingers. He can remember struggling to breathe - he found out later in the medical report that his ribs were shattered. Another boom of thunder sounded over head and Willie couldn’t help but wince slightly at the sound of it.

“Roses are strong flowers,” Willie managed to say between his hyperventilation. “You need to be strong,” he can remember saying. The shadow touch of the blood caked to the side of his head made him reach up to place his hand against it as he began to scratch at the side of his head.

“Willie?” Alex asked the question as he gently pulled Willie’s hand away from his face. Willie wasn’t dying all over again. He was here in the present with Alex, his amazingly awesome boyfriend who made him question whatever cosmic being ran the universe because in no possible world did he deserve someone as amazing as the drummer. “You okay?” Alex asked again, snuggling closer into him, wrapping his arms around Willie like he was a koala. They’re curled up in the dark corners of a Pride art exhibition together, broke in after it closed early because of the storm. The walls are painted with rainbows, filled with bright colors and Willie could feel hope sneaking through the pain he locked away long ago when he first signed onto the club. It was after hours so they spent time walking through the exhibits acting as each other’s tour guides only to end up snuggling together on the floor once the storm started to get more serious.

He wants to say no I’m not. He wants to say help me Alex, please. He doesn’t though because like Caleb always says, outside of skating he’s a coward through and through. Willie exhales slowly and when he spoke he tried to make it sound like he wasn’t lying to the only person who loved him back. “I’m fine,” Willie says, his voice dry and cracking and he knows Alex won’t believe him in a thousand years. Another clash of thunder sounds overhead and Willie couldn’t help but flinch again, he pointedly avoided looking Alex in the eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Alex says softly. They were lying so close to each other that Willie could feel the vibrations in Alex’s chest when he spoke. The low timbre of the beat of his heart reminding Willie that he was safe . Reminding Willie that he was loved outside of whatever relationship he had with Caleb. Then Alex presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and whispers, “it’s okay not to be though. You know that right?”

Willie wants to be okay, he wants to keep pretending. That he hasn’t been . He's been dead the longest between the two of them after all, Alex needed him to be his grounding force and he couldn't be that for him if he was weak. But Willie was tired, he was so tired of being a ghost. He was tired because Caleb had been breathing down his neck recently, working everyone in the club to the bone after Alex and his friends escaped. Not that Willie blamed Alex because Alex was kind and Alex was good and he didn't deserve him . But apparently Alex had other plans in mind because suddenly Alex wrapped his arm around Willie and held him close, like he was something cherished, like he was precious . It wasn’t at all like Caleb’s cold shoulder pats after a long night of entertaining the guests or Caleb’s short worded compliments. Alex was warm.

“I’m sorry,” Willie whispers, turning to bury his face into Alex’s sweatshirt like they were a secret meant only for Alex to hear. He lets himself curl into his boyfriend, legs tucked in as close as possible, fingers clinging to the warm familiarity of the pink sweatshirt. He can hear Alex’s heart beating a gentle rhythm over the thunder. Just rest for a moment, Willie thinks to himself, still keeping up his guard. Caleb is going to want him back to the club after the storm ends. He doesn’t want to show up with bloodshot eyes and a tear streaked face - it would be hard for the makeup girls to get him ready for tonight’s performance. Willie waits, his shoulders tense in anticipation but Alex doesn’t speak. Instead he presses his lips firmly to the top of his head, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. For the next few minutes they stay like that, curled into each other with Alex wrapped around him protecting him from the harm of the outside world.

Then lightning flashes and Willie braces himself for the clap of angry clouds over their heads but it doesn't come. Which didn't make any sense because thunder always comes after lightening. Willie’s conditioned to it, anxiety building up in his chest as he waits for the tell tale sound of a car cracking his helmet in two. Willie fools himself, letting Alex's low hum wash over the eerie silence of the museum and then - and then... right when Willie let himself relax completely the loudest fucking thunderclap in the whole world cracks over head and Willie jumps, poofing out of Alex's arms and somehow manages to solidify across the exhibit, knees pulled into himself tightly, his fingernails digging into his skin; a welcome pain to distract him from the onslaught of memories and pressing his hands against his ears in a weak attempt to block out the memories flashing through his eyelids.

In times like these, times where he’s stuck and he’s trapped and he can’t find a way out are the worst. He has to remember though, to remind himself that he isn’t alone anymore and that even though he felt like his world was crumbling around him that it actually wasn’t. That Alex was there and Alex was solid and Alex was - well, he wasn’t alive but he was warm. “Shh, I’m here,” Alex murmured, his voice a blessing in the chaos of Willie’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” Willie whispers again, this time voicing his apology louder. He lets Alex hold him, wrapping his arms around him like he’s a child being comforted. “It’s so stupid I -” Willie starts before Alex cuts him off with a light tsk.

“It’s not.”

“It is ,” Willie insists, unsure of how Alex couldn’t see how foolish it was that he, a grown ass man, was afraid of a little storm. Alex wraps his arms around Willie, rocking him gently to the rhythm of the rain hitting the roof above them.

“You help me when I freak out,” Alex points out and well… yeah he does but that’s different. It’s different because he’s Willie and Alex is Alex. Alex, who never deserved to die just as his dream had become tangible. Alex, who Willie had betrayed and hurt. Alex who he almost lost because like Caleb says… Willie’s selfish and stupid and desperate for anything remotely beautiful in his life. Alex is so beautiful. He knows that to be true even now, as the thunder rolls overhead and the lighting falls around them. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him sometimes. His smile is so earnest, his concern so genuine. He holds Willie like he’s worth protecting, like he’s the only thing that matters in the world. Like… like he’s something precious meant to be treasured and protected and kept safe.

Willie’s not anything Alex thinks he is. He knows how much pain the world can give, how much more pain he’ll have to live through. As terrifying as knowing the pain is, it's even more terrifying because he knows the second he leaves here - the second he leaves the warmth and the safety of Alex and goes back to Caleb - the second he goes back home he'll lose this. He'll lose the safety net he built for himself because Alex doesn't like Caleb for some reason well no. Not for no reason. Alex has a very perfectly logical reason to hate the man who Willie saw as his surrogate father - even if their relationship seems a little too one sided at times- and he can't fathom a reason why Alex didn't hate him too because he had played a huge fucking role in getting the boys to the club and convincing them to sign their fucking souls over for the soul purpose of his selfishness. For thinking Alex would run the first chance he gets the second he realizes just how messed up he really is.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Alex says, finally breaking the silence between them. The sentence is said so matter of factly, Willie almost laughs. Almost being the key word in that sentence. Despite feeling like the world is crashing around him Willie lets a smirk cross his face as his eyes sparkle mysteriously.

“You can read my mind?” Willie asks, wincing at how intense it sounded, no sense of playfulness in the words at all. Alex doesn’t seem to mind the cutthroat question. He just hummed thoughtfully as he considered.

“It’s part of my ghost powers,” Alex answered back, Willie felt his smile against his shoulder.

The answer makes Willie snort which in turn makes Alex laugh and maybe Willie can finally let him have something nice and keep it . Alex’s giggles echo throughout the exhibit and Willie let the sound wrap around him, a blanket of warmth surrounding him in his cold.

“Oh yeah?” Willie manages to ask, the words sticky and dry. He swallowed thickly to hide the surge of panic in his throat. “What am I thinking of?” He asked, letting Alex press a kiss against the back of his head, his fingers starting to comb through his hair . Alex’s whispered suggestively into his ear, his throat ghosting against his neck when he placed a kiss against the exposed skin. Willie couldn’t help but let out a laugh, his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t deserve any of this, to be comforted during a storm when hiding in his HGC bedroom had worked just fine in the past. “That new trick you still haven’t shown me? The picture you laughed at because it looked like an upside down dog head?” Alex asked. The compulsion to look up overpowers his fear of the dark and when he finally does shift his head. Alex is almost shining in the light of the storm, his smile stretching across his face. In the midst of the storm he’s still shining brighter than Willie could ever shine himself. Alex smiles at him, his eyes twinkling in the reflection of a flash of lightning. “I’m thinking about how beautiful you are,” and there’s another clap of thunder but it isn’t as bad this time. Here, snuggled on the floor of a museum tucked between Alex’s strong arms was starting to help him relax more, keep his focus off the storm.

Suddenly, the shadows disappear and Willie's mind is cleared more than it's ever been before. There aren’t any expectations for Willie here. Alex isn’t Caleb. He doesn’t order Willie around or tell him to shush because he sounds like a whiny little boy when he complains about complicated choreography that was hard to nail down and the exhaustive rehearsal schedule that sometimes ended in Willie passing out in his room for over twelve hours straight before poofing into the middle of rehearsal to watch Alex kill it on his drums.

His world is once again centered on his gravity, his world, his boy in a pink sweatshirt.

Willie turned around, sitting so he was criss crossed on the floor and his fingers were intertwined with. Their noses brush together. He can feel the tickle of blond hair against his forehead where it’s escaped from the cap. “You good?” Alex asks, leaning forward slightly so their foreheads touch. Willie knows what he means the second he asks it. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that not everyone is like Caleb. That not everyone hides their intentions behind carefully crafted spiderwebs of lies. So at the next thunder crash Willie nods in response, his stomach still twisted in his gut but he was able to ignore it this time; ignore the pain he felt in his mind in exchange for Alex’s presence.

“Yeah, I’m good...” Willie says, nodding his head. They were close enough for their noses to brush against themselves. He’s surprised to discover how much he believed it even though he thought it was a lie. He’s good here with Alex. He’s good with a body protecting him from the thunder outside. He’s good to curl up here and dot kisses down his boyfriend’s jaw until he’s a blushing mess.

Because this is what home is, this is what he remembers his home being. He remembers the warmth and the kind eyes and the strong hugs and the pitter patter rabbit-like beat of his heart. Alex pulls him close again, Alex will always pull him close. And he's breathing. He's breathing. And Willie turns to smile into the nape of Alex's neck, letting the drummer tie off the braid with a spare hair tie and the drumming of his heart overpowering the sound of the clapping thunder echoing overhead. "Her name was Rose," Willie said suddenly, intertwining their fingers together, placing them over his heart.

"Rose?" Alex asks, his confusion masked by a hint of recognition in his voice. Willie nods as he plays with Alex's fingers, distracting himself from the distancing storm around them. She was so young , Willie could remember the flash of her smile, brighter than the sun had ever been. Ten years old was too young.

"The girl I saved when I died, when I raced into traffic? She was just standing there in the middle of the road alone and I - holy shit, Alex I died, " he said, the realization actually settling into his chest and he suddenly felt the weight of the car crush into his chest again.

Alex looks at him and for a split second, Willie can’t read his expression. “C’mere baby,” Alex whispers, pulling him in again. Willie collapsed into his chest, wrapping his arms around Alex’s back to twist his sweatshirt into his fists. For half a second the brief fear of pulling away flashes in his mind and Alex tightens his grip. Willie would never think about trying to pull away. “Willie you’re so brave, you know that? You’re so amazing. I mean me? I died eating a hot dog. You died saving someone, Willie. You’re incredible ,” Alex whispers and Willie can’t help but tense because baby.

Willie can't help the shudder that runs through his body hearing the pet name escape through Alex's lips. "Don’t - Don’t call me that," Willie said, starting to feel like he’s losing control again. He flickered and fell through Alex’s body landing on the floor in a heap. Caleb's warped whispers snaked into his ears, wrapping around his mind like a vice. William baby don’t you want to make me proud tonight? Caleb asks as he straightens Willie’s suit for him. Baby those steps were a little behind tonight. You need to pick up more rehearsal hours baby. I don’t need my best performer slacking off. What would my clients think? Caleb asked, his voice coiling around Willie’s thoughts and snaking through the cracks his fears left behind.

"Willie I'm sorry I -" Alex started, only for Willie to cut him off with a shake of his head. His hair fell in front of his face so Alex used his hand to hesitantly tuck it behind his ear.

"It’s fine. Pet names I mean just…” He trails off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. Thunder crashes again and Willie jumps before finishing his thought. “Just not that one okay?” Willie asks, hoping Alex wouldn’t pry. Hoping Alex would never have to see how horribly rotten he really is from the inside out. Alex’s forehead wrinkles in confusion but like Willie hoped he didn’t pry, but he knew the conversation was just getting tabled for a later date. “You got it,” Alex promised, leaning forward to seal it with a kiss to Willie’s forehead. Willie feels himself flicker and his hand passes through Alex’s. Thunder claps at the same time Willie flinches and he has to hope Alex thought he flinched because of the storm and not his touch. It wasn’t fair how deep Caleb has his claws into Willie, using him to hurt the people he loves.

Willie hates how hard he has to fight the tremble in his limbs as he clings to Alex like a lifeline. He inhales deeply, breathing in the perfume Alex somehow managed to get his hands on. Alex smelled like peaches and summertime and everything Willie used to love when he was alive. The smell helped ground his mind, keep him in the present instead of spiraling into worst case scenarios. Think, Willie thought to himself, one again breathing in the smell of peaches off the nape of Alex’s neck. His eyes are diamonds, his skin feels like silk, his heart beats to it’s own rhythm and you’re the one who gets to hear it. Willie thinks, trying to calm the twisting panic and rise of bile stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry,” Alex says, the words whispered quietly between thunder cracks. When he peels his eyes from the ground and finally looks his boyfriend in the eyes again he’s met with hard pressed diamonds reflecting in concern.

“Don’t be,” Willie says back and Alex’s concern warps into something akin to festering anger.

“I am . I -”

“ - I know.”

“ I’m sorry ,” Alex says again, like if he heard it enough he’d actually end up believing it. Willie just shook his head - another clap of thunder sounded so loudly it shook the walls of the museum. Willie tensed, his shoulders tightening despite knowing that he was safe here.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Willie points out. If anything he should be apologizing to Alex. He should be groveling at Alex’s feet begging for forgiveness because he was selfish and almost had him sell his soul over to Caleb.

Something reflects in Alex's eyes that Willie can’t quite place. It isn’t just confusion or concern or anger. It looks like Alex is feeling a mix of all three, with a twist of cold understanding layered on top of it. "You know you can trust me right? This relationship works both ways," Alex says softly, his voice starting to tremble. Willie didn’t understand why he was acting so... so sad. Willie let them fall into a comfortable sort of silence, tense but easy at the same time. The sound of the thunderstorm filling the museum in their quiet.

"I should... I should get going. Caleb lets me out during storms cause he knows about uh... but he'll be wanting me back." Willie says, pulling himself out of Alex's soft sweatshirt covered arms and away from the beating of his heart. Alex's eyes furrowed in confusion. He always did look cute when he was confused, like a puppy dog. The storm’s far enough away that the soft dribble of light rain is the only thing left behind in it’s wake, which means Caleb would send someone after him if he doesn’t show up in a few minutes.

"What do you mean? Willie, if I said something wrong I -'' Alex stammered out before Willie leans forward to press a chaste kiss against his lips, lingering for a few minutes when he finally pulls away. Alex knew about the car crash now, the real reason he was really dead. He knew he was afraid of storms - William not even children are afraid of storms. It's about time you grow up - Caleb's voice whispers in the back of his mind, cutting into his spiraling thoughts.

Willie stumbles to his feet. He’s still shaky, but he can walk. He doesn’t want to risk angering Caleb more than he has to. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. The words feel flat even to him. Alex knows it all now - well not all of it, but enough - and that knowledge is almost too much to take. His boyfriend stares at him, big green eyes confused and sincere... and so unlike anything Willie has seen in a long, long time.

“I can help,” Alex insists, refusing to let go of Willie’s hand. It pains him, but he has to leave. Caleb might be evil, he might be the cause of all of their problems… but after everything the ghost club was still the only thing Willie had left to call his home.

“Sometimes there’s nothing you can do Alex,” Willie whispers, gently placing his hand against Alex’s neck. Alex leans into his touch as he wraps his own hand around his.

“Willie-“ Alex starts again but before he hears Alex ask him to stay again because he knows he would. He’d do anything Alex asked him too if it made him happy but he owes Caleb his life and that’s not a debt he forgets easily. But Willie resorts back to his instincts because well, they haven’t led him astray yet and he keeps Alex at arms length when the familiar tug in his gut pulled him back to the Hollywood Ghost Club in time to get ready for Caleb’s opening act.

[juyeoniemyhoney]

things she’ll never know

When you love someone, the most important thing that you should not do is introduce them to their crush and help them get along. Yoongi knows this because he has learned the hard way. Because truly, introducing you to Jungkook has got to be his biggest mistake ever and once things for you and Jungkook start to escalate into more than a friendship, Yoongi knows he fucked up. 

-pairing: min yoongi x reader (feat. jungkook)

-genre: angst yo 

-warnings: none really, this may be a little stupid

-word count: 2408 words

-A/N: what upppp. back with a little yoongi angst. i hope you guys like it! don’t be shy to request some ideas you’d like me to write! i like live to please people and coming up with plots or scenarios are like super hard for me for some reason. also don’t be afraid to tell me your thoughts on this one! it really, really helps me to improve and write better! 

--------

It is without a doubt that everything you do has no reason. Like literally everything you are pursuing has in some way or another been forced onto you. You did not sign up for school, no. Your mother had just dressed you up in a school uniform one day when you were six and left you in a school full of strangers and other tiny people. So naturally, after being forced into things your whole life, you have developed a hate for almost everything. 

But nothing you have gone through can quite prepare you for the shit that you have to endure today. 

Today, instead of having an engaging discussion about life during homeroom like you usually do, your classmates are scattered around the classroom, cleaning every single nook and cranny until it is basically shining. All the while, the teacher screams at a group of friends who childishly throw rubbish and spray water at each other as a means to make this laborious task at least a little bit more fun than it actually is. 

After every semester, your school deems it necessary for the students to conduct a “spring cleaning” activity. As a result, your fun homeroom sessions are replaced with an hour of cleaning; beneficial for the janitors who work at your school, but nonetheless a drab and boring activity. 

“This is so boring,” you sigh, verbalising your thoughts to Yoongi, who is silently wiping a window pane beside you. Yoongi remains silent and just nods, lips set in a firm line but expression gentle. At his silent response, you cannot help but allow a smile to bloom on your lips at his extremely Yoongi-esque answer. 

Yoongi, your best friend, is an attractive, raven haired boy of little words. He has been by your side for as long as you can remember; since you had moved in beside him. He had come up to you, shy, tiny and chubby, asking you to help him tie his shoelaces. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable and you basically tell him everything. And because Yoongi is such a good friend, the moment you told him that you found Jungkook, a fellow classmate, attractive, Yoongi had taken it upon himself to — unlike his introverted nature — befriend him. 

Which brings us to today, almost a year after Jungkook was included into your list of friends. The three of you had grown quite close in the past year. But don’t be mistaken, it took you almost three months to warm up to him, far too shy to even look him in the eyes. But with insistent prompting from Yoongi and an insane amount of coincidental occurrences, obviously articulately orchestrated by Yoongi, you eventually came round and began to talk comfortably with Jungkook. 

“Yoongi,” you call him, reaching up to his sleeve to tug on it gently. The action causes Yoongi’s heart to swell and his chest strains painfully with the inability to house the sheer amount of adoration he feels for you. Yoongi hums in response, too lost at the sight of you to process words.

“Make this more fun,” you command, frown drawing your brows together, lips turned down at the corners in a pout. Yoongi’s heart falters at the sight. 

Years ago, when you and Yoongi were four years old, only a few days after he met you, he already knew that he was going to marry you. You had run up to him in the playground, attacking him with a bear hug, surprising him by muttering a soft and shy, I love you as you tucked your face into his neck. Yoongi has never been the same since.

That moment has been replaying itself in his head, a constant reminder that his immediate thought after you had embraced him was that he never wanted you to let go. He has only fallen harder for you since; for your magnetic personality and your laugh and your smile that seems to shine so brightly that it is as if the sun had decided to bury itself in your very being. 

His unadulterated attraction to even just the thought of you only seemed to strengthen that fateful night, consisting of powerful torrents of rain and a sole umbrella. That night, (despite being under the legal drinking age) you were drunk out of your mind, arm slung around Yoongi’s shoulder and legs tripping over each other clumsily. The two of you had awkwardly, yet silently, stumbled into your room, Yoongi groaning with exertion and exhaustion after having to haul you all the way back to your house from the party that celebrated your school’s volleyball team’s win. As soon as your head had hit your pillow, lightning flashed as if the sky was snapping a picture of that moment, granting Yoongi sight of you. Love surged through him at the sight, your eyes barely open and glazed over in exhaustion. 

“It’s raining,” you had observed from the window behind Yoongi. Yoongi, too distracted by the look of pure merriment swirling in your brown eyes that shone like the moon, could only a whisper an aloof answer. You’ve always liked rain. 

He was spiralling down a tangent of doubtful supposition, trying to decide if he should just kiss you right then and there, if it would still ruin your friendship even if there was a high possibility that the whole night would excuse itself from your memory in the morning. Yoongi immediately dispelled the horrifying thought from his brain, barely registering that you had gotten up and had started to rummage about your things. 

“You should take this umbrella,” you slurred, turning back around to look at Yoongi. You stumbled clumsily towards him, as if you were a baby learning to walk. Just as you were about to hand Yoongi the umbrella, a wire had caught your foot, pulling taut and tripping you. You had stumbled forward in an attempt to find your balance, but once you realised that it would not be possible, you had tried to catch yourself on Yoongi instead, but your lack of sobriety had also meant the deduction of your depth perception, causing you to completely miss his shoulders. 

All too suddenly, Yoongi found himself on your bed, on his back, tasting alcohol on your lips. Yoongi’s brain had ceased regular function at that point and instead of pulling away, instead of pushing you off him, instead of something, he found himself kissing you. And for the shortest of seconds, you were kissing him back. He seemed to have fallen from reality and landed in an alternate universe; where you are his, and you are okay with being his. Your lips felt surreal and warm, so, so warm and he didn’t want to ever stop kissing you. But then Yoongi felt your tongue at the seam of his lips, and he was dragged out of his trance by the ankles and jolting away from you as if you were a live wire. 

“Why...?” you had questioned, earnest eyes gazing down at him, searching for eye contact but Yoongi had refused it, eyes landing on everything except yours. And too fast for Yoongi to even process himself, he was snatching the umbrella from your hands, pushing you off him as gently as he could in his haste, and practically sprinting out of your bedroom, in search of refuge that only his own could offer.

When Yoongi thinks back to that incident, he always beats himself up for dashing out of there before ensuring that you were okay first. He had let his feelings control him and didn’t even stop to think that he should have probably sobered you up first before leaving. But it is far too late to regret and that incident now serves as one of Yoongi’s milestones, the one that had caused his feelings for you to grow exponentially, the kiss that you cannot even remember. 

“How about we play tag? If I touch you with this rag, I win. If you manage to evade me for the rest of the period, you win. Winner gets a whole tub of ice cream,” Yoongi suggests, finally snapping out of his trance. 

“That hardly seems far,” you complain with a slap to his bicep. It causes Yoongi to flinch and you let out a melodious chuckle at his reaction. Yoongi’s heart dances to the tune. 

“Fine then, be bored,” is Yoongi’s snarky reply. He lets out a sigh in faux disappointment and turns back to the window to continue his interrupted wiping. Though, his expression immediately brightens when you protest to your teasing gone wrong. Flowers bloom in Yoongi’s chest and he feels a strong urge to hug you; to wrap you up in his arms, hidden away from the world in his warmth. Yoongi has to quite literally hold himself back to not act on the urge.

And so begins the game of tag. If Yoongi were to be entirely honest, he hates physical activity, of every and any sort. Which is why he has no idea why he had suggested to play tag in the first place. If he were to be even more honest, even if he hates running, he is sure that if he were playing seriously, the game would end in the matter of seconds. So, he chases you with restraint and pretends to take breaks in between the chasing. And if he ever came close to tagging you, he would shorten his reach so that the rag would miss you by a hair. It is just, Yoongi is high on the sound of your mirthful giggling, not wanting it to stop for even just a second. Not when the sound makes him so happy that he feels as if his whole body is levitating. 

Yoongi chases you all around the classroom, the two of you blatantly ignoring your teacher’s nagging. As the period comes to an end, Yoongi quickens his speed, just refusing to lose to you after realising how much you would tease him if he did. Now at the front of the classroom, Yoongi finds himself far behind you, struggling to catch up. 

Everything that happens next seems to happen in slow-motion for Yoongi.

As you glance over your shoulder to gauge where Yoongi is, you accidentally ram into someone. More specifically, you run right into Jungkook. You let out a surprised squeal when your head hits his chest and Jungkook wraps his arms around you in instinct, letting out his own sound of surprise. Yoongi’s heart, at the sight, sinks right into his gut, as if it were in quicksand. Jungkook’s expression of surprise morphs into an endearing smile and he relaxes and hugs you comfortably, arms around your shoulders and chin resting gingerly on top of your head. 

Jungkook’s scent and warmth send you into a state of delirium. Your cheeks burn red in embarrassment when he starts stroking your hair, gently combing his fingers through the thick locks. Your classmates do not care, in fact you do not think they even notice the intimate moment the two fo you are having now. It is as if the world has vanished and it is just you and Jungkook, and no one else to disturb you. In Jungkook’s arms, everything feels right, like not a thing in the world is wrong, and maybe, it is here, in his arms, that you belong. As cringe-worthy as it sounds, your ears tune out all of your surroundings and only seem to be able to focus on the rhythmic beating of Jungkook’s heart. And when your arms come up around him to circle around his waist, the pace of his heart increases and you finally know that you are not the only one who is feeling things. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, is absolutely livid, irises flaring red as he looks at the two of you hugging so dearly, so natural that it is as if you two have been hugging for years. One side of Yoongi, the selfish side, wants to rip you from Jungkook’s arms and claim you as his, as if he is the hound of hades, guarding the gates of the world the two of you have built together, preventing Jungkook from ever entering your world and snatching you away. But the other side of Yoongi, the one that grounds himself to reality should his love for you cause him to do utterly idiotic things, tells him to come to terms with the fact that you will never be involved with him romantically, tells him to just let you go, tells him to deal with his own idiotic actions. Because truly, introducing you to Jungkook is, and will forever be his biggest regret. But at the same time, how could he not? When you had gazed up at him with mirth-filled eyes, smile shining brighter than any star to exist in the cosmos. How could he not when he could basically feel your voice worm its way into his chest, festering something so captivating that he could not help but do something, anything to hear that tone in your voice again and feel the flowers bloom in his heart, a sweet, summer warmth melting him like candle wax. How could he rob you, the one person he has loved with all his heart, mind and soul of your happiness?

The answer is that he cannot. 

So, instead of socking Jungkook in the face, instead of tearing you from Jungkook’s arms and kissing you with passionate ferocity, Yoongi circles your hugging bodies so that you can see him, gently tapping you to get your attention. Your head pops out from Jungkook’s chest and you look at Yoongi over his shoulder. When your eyes lock, your arms still around Jungkook and Jungkook’s arms still around you, he whispers as softly as he can so that you cannot hear the cracking of his heart in his voice. And despite the excruciating amount of pain he is feeling in this moment, Yoongi manages to proffer you a small smile. 

“You win.”

His words refer to a plethora of things; his heart, his life, this one-sided game he has been playing. And then, before you can question anything, he leaves you to deliberate what on earth those two words should signify other than that game of tag that just decided Yoongi’s and your destiny. 

Because did you actually win or did you just lose everything?

[ruzek-halstead]

plus one

part three

pairing: jay halstead x hailey upton

hailey is invited to her exes wedding and there is no way in hell she’s showing up solo. luckily, jay is eager to show off how successful he’s become. unfortunately, hailey spitefully tells everyone he’s her boyfriend, so there’s that.

"i mean, he’s clearly a dumbass if he invited you and just ‘forgot’ about your temper.”

(alternate universe/fake relationship bc i’m a sucker for these)

part one || part two || masterlist

warnings: swearing, fluffery, hailey upton’s badassery

all it takes is one look at luke's face and jay's spine straightens and he immediately flinches away from hailey's touch.

this isn't what he wants. it is what he wants; he wants to kiss her and he's wanted that for as long as he can remember, but not like this. not at her ex-boyfriend's wedding, while the said ex-boyfriend glares daggers.

jay sighs when he sees the flash of hurt in her eyes and his chest constricts. it was almost like he could feel the physical pain he was causing her and it sucked.

"i—i should get another drink," she stammers, doing her best to avoid his eyes.

hailey turns on her heels and makes a beeline for the bar. she bumps into adam on her way, but hardly even notices.

"what the hell?" adam frowns, when he reaches jay. "did luke do something again? i swear to g—"

jay shakes his head. "no, it was me."

"dude, what?" adam exclaims, his eyes mirroring his disappointment. "she looked really upset."

jay rubs a hand over his face and drops back into his chair. "fuck. i fucked it all up."

"what did you do?" adam asks curiously.

"i think we had a moment," jay mutters, his hands still covering his face. "and i don't know, she looked at me and i think she wanted me to kiss her. and it felt right," he can't stop talking now that he's started. "but then i saw luke right behind her and he looked pissed and i just couldn't."

adam shakes his head, snickering. "how does he manage to ruin everyone else's day on what's supposed to be the happiest day of his life?"

"and it's his wedding, right?" jay adds nervously; his eyes are searching for hailey but he can't spot her. "i shouldn't do anything dickish? like go for his ex?"

adam smirks, clapping jay on the back. "bro, fuck that. i swear, if you don't get your shit together and go find her right now, i'm going to punch you in the throat."

jay's eyes widen slightly. "dude, it's his wedding day."

"exactly, his wedding. which means he married someone else and he shouldn't be doing that unless he's completely over hailey," adam explains, shooting luke a nasty side eye. "and hailey is not just his ex, she's so much more than that, you know that. she's our best friend and she deserves happiness more than anyone i've ever known."

jay cracks a smile, "damn, ruzek. keep talking like that and i'm going to shed a tear."

adam rolls his eyes. "shut up and go find hailey, or else i actually will punch you in the throat."

"couldn't even if you tr—" jay is not proud of the violent flinch he displays as adam's fist nears his face, and how he nearly trips over his own feet trying to get away. he sees adam laugh and stop to talk to another member of their graduating class.

jay is halfway to the bar, but he still doesn't spot hailey. not that it matters because he is quickly intercepted by the groom.

"oh, for the love of god," jay mutters. "do you not have guests to greet or something?"

luke smirks at him. "all in due time, jay."

"what the hell does that even mean?" jay replies, looking around for any reinforcements; unfortunately, no one is available. "also, where's your wife? shouldn't you be with her?"

luke frowns slightly. "i have the rest of my life to be with her."

"oh, what a great attitude to have a happy marriage. freaking fantastic," jay mumbles sarcastically. "anyway, i was just on my way to the bar, so if you don't mind…"

"i do mind, actually," luke replies and jay considers the multiple ways he can incapacitate him without getting in trouble with the law. "i'm just having trouble understand how you and hailey got together."

jay tried to hold his tongue for the sake that it's his wedding, but he can't any longer; the sass has been unleashed. "are you having trouble comprehending the fact that she got over your dumb ass?"

however, luke doesn't seem phased. "no jay, you're understanding this wrong," he is still smirking and jay has never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. "trust me, i'm looking out for you. i don't think you're understanding what a piece of work hailey is."

jay's eyes narrow, because he can't understand if luke is just that stupid or wants to earn a black eye on his wedding day. "are you forgetting that i've been friends for hailey for years? like i truly don't understand what you're trying to do right now."

"being her friend is not the same as being in a committed relationship," luke remarks and his smirk suddenly drops. "although, i'm not sure how much you would know about that. you were a regular in the friend zone."

jay clenches his teeth together so he can think of an appropriate response and get the hell out of luke's presence. "thanks so much for your concern, but i'm fine. and hailey's happy, which is more than she can say for the time she spent with you. so please, go find your wife and treat her better than you did hailey."

hailey cannot get out of there fast enough. the abrupt change in jay's face and body language hit her straight in the chest and she can't even breathe. she hadn't thought she was reading the mood wrong, but apparently, she was way off. jay looked uncomfortable, and she is just absolutely mortified.

"i—i should get another drink," she mumbles and turns away quickly. she bumps into someone on her way to the bar but she keeps walking. she doesn't want to risk looking at anyone for fear that she'll start crying right there and then.

she almost laughs. how is she crying, again?

hailey decides the bar is definitely not the place for her to be right now and turns to go to the washrooms instead. the one thing actually working in her favour today is that it's empty and she can wallow in peace.

however, that is short lived too.

"hey, hails, there you are!" she knows it's was kim's voice before she even sees her. "i was wondering where you'd gone off t—" kim stops abruptly as she sees hailey hastily wiping away tears from her face. "hailey, what happened?" she is about to rush to her best friend's side but a stony glare overtakes her face. "was it luke? did he do something? i knew i shouldn't of left my knives at home."

kim is halfway out the door of the washrooms, until hailey pleads for her to come back. "no!" she blubbers, way past the point of caring that her voice is cracking. "it wasn't him."

"oh honey," kim frowns, wrapping an arm around her friend. "what happened?"

hailey laughs because it sounds so ridiculous in her head, it's going to sound even worse out loud. "jay and i were having a moment. i thought—i thought he was going to kiss me," she laughs bitterly. "god, i'm an idiot."

"what? no, you're definitely not the idiot here."

hailey wipes the last of her tears away; she's literally cried more today than she had in the past two years. "i don't know why i was thinking anything was there. it's been years; if something was supposed to happen, it would have already."

"are you kidding me, hailey?" kim demands in a tone that has hailey looking at her in shock and silence. "god, for people as smart as you two, i don't understand how you guys are so dumb."

hailey is still looking at her, as if she has two heads. "what?"

"jay has been in love with you since i can remember!" kim exclaims exasperatedly, as if this is common knowledge. "he looks at you like you're his whole world and seriously, i don't understand how it's been so long and you two still aren't together. adam and i are honestly exhausted of scheming against you two."

hailey furrows her eyebrows. "what?" she finds herself saying, again.

"god, i swear hailey," kim mumbles, shooting her a murderous glare. "none of this matters. what matters is that we're at your ex-boyfriend's wedding, who inconveniently has been paying a lot of attention to you. of course jay doesn't want to make a move on you now, not when luke is constantly over your shoulder!"

hailey blinks.

"shit."

"shit is right," kim grins, looking extremely self-satisfied. "now, let's go. you really need to talk to him and i really need a drink."

hailey nods numbly and allows kim to pull her out of the bathroom. "what do i say?" she asks in a panic. it's one thing thinking of this all in your head but having to actually articulate the words to his dumb, adorable face is completely different. he always gives her his full attention and it intimidates her.

"no, no," kim shakes her head, "i'm done. this is all you."

hailey nods, trying and failing to gather some confidence. she's a doctor for god's sake - this is nothing! yet, she still feels like she's going to throw up any second. it definitely doesn't help when she sees luke talking to an individual with their back towards her. and it certainly doesn't help when she realizes that individual is jay.

they are so engrossed in each other, luke doesn't even notice hailey approaching. "being her friend is not the same as being in a committed relationship. although, i'm not sure how much you would know about that. you were a regular in the friend zone."

hailey's jaw drops and she knows this is the final straw. fortunately, jay beats her to it.

"thanks so much for your concern, but i'm fine. and hailey's happy, which is more than she can say for the time she spent with you. so please, go find your wife and treat her better than you did hailey."

hailey's chest fills with affection for this man she should have given a chance ages ago. she knows, without a doubt, she loves him, and she has for longer than she cares to admit.

"alright," kim snaps, making both men turn around. jay has his jaw clenched but his eyes soften when he saw hailey; luke looks surprised, but keeps his eyes on kim. "this has gone on way too long and frankly, i'm pissed."

"i—" luke starts, but kim cuts him off.

"do not interrupt me! this is your wedding day, what the hell are you doing over here?" she asks in an accusatory tone, hands on her hips. "you and hailey didn't work out, and you have no right to get involved in her life now."

luke seems at a loss for words; there is nothing he could say. he takes one more final look at hailey and turns to make his way to the bar.

"god, finally," kim flipped her brown curls over her shoulder. "now, it's time for you two to have a talk." with that, she stalks off.

hailey can only hope she leaves to confess her love for adam because this confident, take charge attitude she has is really working for her.

jay grabs hailey's hand and leads her off to the side. "i'm so sorry, hails."

"god, don't be sorry," hailey shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "it all makes sense now. it's my freaking ex's wedding, i'm sorry."

jay grins. "i tried so hard to be nice to him, i really did."

"jay, i don't want to talk about him anymore," she says slowly.

"well, we could talk about that," his smile widens as he points across the room, to where kim and adam are sharing a sweet kiss.

hailey smiles wide as the couple separates and glances in their direction. kim looks sheepish but adan is ecstatic. as hailey turns back to jay, he's giving adam the thumbs up.

"i don't want you to be my fake boyfriend anymore," hailey blurts out and she cringes. out of all the ways to phrase it, she has to say that?

jay's eyes look confused, "um, okay? i figured we were done playing pretend anyway, you know, considering…"

"no, that's not what i meant," hailey shakes her head and now she looks sheepish. "i want you," she whispers quietly; he moves closer. "you've been with me through every milestone, every important moment in my life. and the truth is, i love you," she is preparing for the worst but all she sees is his smile widen. "i've felt something for you since junior year but i've never felt something so intense; i didn't know what it was. but it's love and i love you, jay."

jay surges forward, capturing her face between his hands. this time, his eyes don't stray; he is completely and utterly consumed by her, and he kisses her. it's soft and slow and not nearly enough, but they have all the time in the world.

jay doesn't get the chance to say he loves her back, but she knows. it's in his eyes and in the way he holds her close to him.

adam and kim make their way over with gleeful smiles and glasses of champagne. "i think today deserves a toast," adam says, handing jay and hailey a glass.

"here's to our next chapter together," kim cheers, clinking her glass with the rest. for as long as she can remember, it has always been the four of them. they always defended each other, took care of each other, graduated together and moved away together. she can't imagine a greater group of friends than the ones she was blessed with, and this next chapter would only bring them closer together; it's how it should have always been. "god, i love you guys," she whispers, her eyes slightly watery as they cheer and huddle for a group hug.

this is a bit too emotional for their usual so it doesn't surprise anyone when jay makes his next comment.

"can you guys believe hailey used to date the groom? talk about an upgrade."

they all groan, but they can't deny it's the best damn wedding they've ever been to.

that is, until their own weddings, of course.

[nirvanaday]

Natasha Romanoff let a lot of things slide in the past months. Well actually since the snap 2 years ago. The only thing she “cooked “for herself were sandwiches or instant noodles that she never finished. She can’t remember the last time she did her laundry, nor when she last cleaned her room. But she couldn’t care less. There was no one living on the compound but her, Steve had moved to the city half a year ago and with him the last bits of her self-reverence seemed to have left too. Whenever she wanted to get something done other than staring at the statistics of the snap, sitting in on yet another useless meeting with Captain Marvel, Rhodey and Rocket because deep down she knew that no one would find Clint if he didn’t wanna be found or punching the punching bag so hard until her knuckles were bleeding through the bandages, she asked herself “Why?” or “What for?”.

The way she neglected the tasks at hand just reflected the way she was letting herself go. Normal things just felt like too much- like she didn’t deserve it. Sometimes she didn’t eat anything for a whole day, always thinking of the people who could never eat anything ever again, partly because of her failure. That’s why her bones were showing more and more, you could practically count her ribs if she wore a tight shirt, and every pair of pants she owned hung loosely down her thin frame. She wasn’t more than a shadow of herself, but she couldn’t care less, not when the guilt was consuming her, haunting her every night in her dreams and she felt the need to bring this as a punishment upon herself. So, while she didn’t consciously starve herself, something inside her just kept her from eating or keeping a lot of food down.

So, when she stood in front of her closet that one morning, she wasn’t surprised when she was met with emptiness. Most of the few clothes she owned were laying around on the floor somewhere and needed to be washed. She picked up a black top from underneath her bed, but noticed it was a crop top when she had put it on. You could see how her belly was rather going inwards and how drastically her ribcage was standing out. She didn’t care how she looked, but she didn’t want to explain herself should there be another meeting with and Rhodey and the others. She took the short black top off, put on a pair of leggings that didn’t seem to have any stains on them and walked through the hallway into Steve’s former bedroom.

It looked like he never left, he didn’t take a lot of things with him, like he was trying to leave it behind along with everything that reminded him that he also had failed to save the world from the snap. He came around from time to time, he cooked her dinner and (at least pretended to) listen to her when she was telling him about a new lead on Clint. But he never stayed overnight though. Natasha was glad, because then he didn’t notice when she threw up the food he made her as soon as she could see him leaving out the front door. On the other hand, even though she wouldn’t even admit that to herself, she felt like breaking down in front of him and begging him to stay every time he was about to leave. Whenever he was about to leave her behind, again. But she never did and he never stayed, because she was too damn good at keeping her composure and a part of her hated him for not noticing.

Natasha always had loved Steve’s room because it was so uniquely him, old books in a shelf, his sketchpads and pencils laying on the coffee table, the record player next to his bed. Now she was in it she wanted nothing more than to run out, because it reminded her that not even Steve Rogers could endure being around her anymore. She went straight to where she was headed, took a grey shirt from the stack of neatly folded T-shirts in his closet and put it on. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was content. Steve’s Shirt hung loosely of her shoulders and hid all the critical parts of her body.

After she went for her morning run around the compound, she ate two bites of a peanut butter sandwich before going to the training room and stretching for her now daily ballet routine. She didn’t start doing it again because she particularly liked it, but because it hurts. So good. A part of her hated herself for how fucking happy she was after she first danced tiptoe after ten years or so and she felt her toes breaking. She felt happy when seeing her bleeding and bruised feet after taking off her pointe shoes. Natasha Romanoff felt like she deserved pain more than anyone. Why was she left alive and so many others had to die?

She finished her training at about 1 PM and went back to her office space, the former meeting area of the Avengers. There were no new mails, no message from anybody so she just stared at the screen and basically waited for anything to pop up. She was so focused on the nothingness, that she didn’t notice when Steve’s car pulled up in the parking lot. She flinched when she heard him clearing his throat, startling her out of her deep focus on the screen in front of her. She didn’t notice his presence before.

“Hey.” Steve simply said, putting his jacket down on the chair in front of him and throwing his keys on the desk. She wondered why he still kept them. Natasha looked up at him and managed a small smile: “Hey soldier, what’s up.” It came out raspier and more broken than she anticipated and that was probably due to the fact that she hadn’t spoke to anybody in the last week. Steve lifted his brow: “You okay?” he asked out of concern but Natasha just huffed. “Now what do you expect me to say to that?” She looked away from him, out of the window to hide the tears that were filling her eyes, ready to spill. But she couldn’t let him see that, she didn’t want to force him to care for her because he felt responsible for her, even though that’s probably why he still came by.

“I’m sorry for asking, I know it’s stupid.” he said and she wondered when their relationship had become this difficult and tense. They had been so close before, when they were on the run and she sometimes thought that they could maybe be more than friends, but now she could feel that he was afraid of saying something wrong to her and she was afraid of revealing too much to him. “I came by because… I want to move back in if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to have to look for Clint on your own, you shouldn’t have to manage this alone.” He looked at her and she knew it was an excuse.

“There’s not much to do actually, I get by on my own pretty well.” Natasha told him, but the single tear that rolled down her cheek gave her away. Steve got up, walked over to her side of the table and him being so close to her broke down the last remains of her wall. She pressed her head against his chest and finally allowed herself to cry. When he put his arms around her, he was shocked. “Jesus, Nat you’ve gotten so thin. Are you eating?” he asked but she couldn’t answer, instead she only held onto him tighter. They stood there and time seemed to stop. Natasha only half registered when he picked her up and they moved to the living room, where he sat down on the couch, with her curled up in his lap like a ball, afraid of the inevitable conversation they would be having now.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, but the sun was setting outside when Natasha slightly lifted her head to look at Steve. He also had stains of dried tears on his cheeks. He now cupped her face with his hands. “Please Nat, let me help you.” He sounded desperate. Natasha knew they were too far gone now but she also knew that words could never express what was going on. She could never say it out loud. So she stayed silent and lifted her hand for him to see instead. He took her bony fingers in his and pressed a soft kiss on her bruised knuckles. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, please.” He was basically begging her.

Natasha took all the courage she had left and whispered: ”Stay with me. Please don’t leave me again.” She thought she was expecting too much, despite him saying he wanted to move back in before, she needed him to be with her, to bear her panic attacks, her nightmares and to watch her eating and training habits. That was too much to ask. “I won’t, we’ll get through this Nat, I just need you to let me in. I’ll be with you no matter what.” He said and caressed her puffy cheeks. And she believed him. Not because she knew he was always honest but because how he had said it and just because he… She trusted him so much, it hurt.

But he kept his word, he stayed the night holding her close to him in her bed and it was the first night in forever that she wasn’t woken up by nightmares. He stayed the next morning, making her breakfast and she felt how genuinely happy he was when she ate two pancakes. He stayed with her throughout the day, distracting her from her dark thoughts, training with her on a normal level, taking a walk down to the river with her. He stayed with her the next night and the nights to come and neither one of them had slept alone since that day.

Steve Rogers gave Natasha Romanoff hope and the perspective that maybe, she could move on without forgetting and punishing herself. But equally, Natasha Romanoff gave Steve Rogers a purpose and the feeling that he wasn’t alone. It was a rough path, but the got through it, together and somewhere along the way, they were able to profess their feelings to one another. In a broken world, they had found light in each other.

He was her Salvation as she was his.

[whumpthisway]

Huck and Stephen 07

Before: Pet Sitting

OC Nonhuman Whumpee and OC Master fic

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3

A/N: This is the next update of the Huck and Stephen story, but here set before Huck ends up on dear Stephen’s doorstep. In this, Huck is called Pet, which was the name given to them by their previous owner, Master Parry. These new fics are much much more hurt & no comfort than some of the other ones I’ve done, but I promise Huck will get the nice treatment they deserve from Stephen soon enough! (I know because I’ve written up to it aha). But there’ll be some heavy stuff between now and then so please ask me for specific tags or warnings if you need them or I miss something :) Hope you enjoy this, I will be hiding under the desk.

ALSO! @haro-whumps did some gorgeous fanart for Huck (LINK) and it’s so lovely!! Thank you so much!! I hope you like these new updates.

Also, I want to thank @geodes-whump-cave, @deluxewhump and @newbornwhumperfly so much for their support and interest in the Huck and Stephen saga, without whose encouragement I probably wouldn’t be posting. And thanks to @redstainedsocks and @gimmethatsweetwhump for your encouragement always, you’re the best <3

Content warnings: verbal and physical abuse, dehumanisation, (brief) xenophobia, and (brief) choking

*

(Huck/Pet POV)

Crouched at the foot of the bed, Pet watched anxiously as Master Parry packed his things, meticulously folding up his work shirts.

Flicking his wrist, Master checked his watch with a scowl. “Where is that kid?” He glanced down and Pet reflexively leant backwards, curling their tail close to their paws. “What’re you doing?”

Pet flinched, crouching down lower with a soft whimper of apology, their ears flattened. It didn’t help.

“Always under my fucking feet.” Master kicked Pet in the ribs, hard enough to knock the air out of them with a thud, though Master was only wearing his slippers this time.

They didn’t know what to do, what Master wanted from them these days; pressing close to Master annoyed him, but trying to keep out of the way was no better. Being quiet made Master accuse Pet of ‘sneaking’ around, but every noise they made infuriated him. They used to be able to please him, if they behaved nicely and didn’t speak, but somehow, without meaning to, they’d lost the ability to make Master look fondly at them.

Master curled his lip. “Get out.”

Pet seized on the direct order and hurried to obey, only to yelp when Master suddenly lurched towards them and grabbed a handful of their hair, jerking their head back. Tears came to Pet’s eyes, even as they tried so hard to repress them. Only weak creatures cried. Master’s expression was twisted with loathing as he looked down at them, his grip agonising in their hair, and it was that hatred that hurt more than Master’s kicks or careless cruelties. Pet wanted more than anything for Master to look at them with affection, just once, like he used to.

“You know the one thing that makes this crappy work trip worthwhile, Pet? Being packed into those cheap, filthy planes like sardines, the disgusting hotels and disease-infested foreign food? Not having to deal with you, you and your pathetic snivelling.” He shoved Pet away and they collapsed on the floor, curled into a ball around the pain in their chest, shaking as they tried so hard not to cry. “Dirty animal.”

Master strode away into his en suite to wash his hands, getting Pet’s germs off him, he said, because no matter how often Pet showered, Master never thought they were clean. And Pet never felt clean, not with how Master always looked so disgusted by them.

Sobbing now, but silently, Pet dragged themself off the floor and scurried out the room, tail between their legs, not wanting to make Master even more furious by disobeying when he’d ordered them to leave.

The doorbell finally rang twenty minutes later, to Pet’s great relief. Master had been pacing the floor and muttering in annoyance for ten minutes and Pet was wound tight as a coil. They hurried to open the door as they were normally expected to, but Master was in too much of a hurry and Pet, like usual, was in the way.

“Move!” Master barked, knocking past Pet even as they tried to get out of the way. They stifled a soft whimper as they barely managed to stay upright, not wanting to draw Master’s attention when he was as angry as he was.

Master flung open the door hard enough that it hit the wall and Pet flinched from where they were hovering in the corridor, a few paces behind Master.

“Why are you never on time?” Master demanded of the smartly-dressed young man at the door.

It was Harrison, Master Parry’s son and Pet’s heart sunk at the sight of him, but they made themself sit up straight and tuck their paws and tail in neatly, not slouching like Master hated.

Harrison strolled inside, tall and angularly handsome. He’d changed since he used to live with Master and Pet, before he left for university a few years ago. He’d grown his hair out longer and lost some weight, which left his cheekbones sharper and his eyes, always cruel, now seeming even colder behind the lock of hair that seemed deliberately styled to fall across one eyebrow.

“Come on,” Harrison said, easily, “it’s only just after-”

“I don’t care, I really don’t.” Master waved Harrison inside. “Just take the mutt and get going. I have a plane to catch.”

Harrison, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, looked down at Pet with a smile that looked soft, but barely even reached his lean cheeks. Pet shivered, their skin prickling under their fur.

He came forward to rub Pet between the ears. “Hello there.” Harrison’s touch itself wasn’t unpleasant but Pet still had to force themself not to flinch away from it. “We meet again, mutt.”

“Harrison.” Master put his bag down in hall loud enough to make Pet flinch. “Just take it and drop it back in a week. In one piece.” Harrison’s hand briefly tightened in Pet’s hair and, their scalp still tender from Master grabbing their hair just a moment ago, Pet winced. Harrison noticed and goosebumps passed over Pet’s arms at the slight smile that passed over Harrison’s cold face.

Harrison finally dropped his hand from Pet’s head and Pet’s shoulders slumped in relief. Turning to his father, Harrison grinned rakishly and held out a hand. “Cash up front, dad. Pet sitting is expensive; those shelter places would charge you a fortune.”

Master scowled, but he was already digging out his wallet, glancing again at his watch. “How would you know what it costs?” he said as he shoved the money into Harrison’s hand. “You do nothing but bleed me dry, kid.”

Harrison just smiled, pushing the notes into the pocket of his jeans, which looked like they’d been torn at the knees by the claws of an angry creature.

“Hasta leugo, dad,” Harrison said as he grabbed Pet’s leash and muzzle off the hook by the door, carelessly fastening it around Pet’s neck. He gave his dad a jaunty wave. Without waiting for Pet to get their paws under them, he towed them out the door and onto the pavement outside. Pet coughed, half-choked, and dragged in a lungful of air as they hurried to catch up with Master Harrison, their stomach sinking. A week. Just a week.

*

I know this one is only short, I’ll post the others over the next few days probably, Please do let me know what you think, and my inbox is always open for thoughts, requests, feedback and ideas <3

Tagging (flshdfks tagging people I love u all): @smolnarwhal @free-2bmee @ffaerie-dustt @mortifiedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpity–whump–whump @quirkykayleetam @oracle-of-maybe @whumpersworld @quoththeraven-what @halibellecter @usernames-suck-but-i-like-whump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @pennsss @whumpqhs 

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or taken off it, pls do send me an ask or DM! :D

If you like my work, I have a Ko-Fi account

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, part x

ancient names, pt. x

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt x: how large the teeth

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~7.2k (yes I am a clown)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Gore/violence, forced used of psychotropic drugs to induce hallucinations, spooky scaries (hi October!), implications of sexual assault though nothing specific, and uhhhhhhh liberal use of a shotgun. And you know, the usual things that come with Far Cry 5. Also, proofreader? I hardly know her.

Notes: So this chapter took quite a while to get around (thank you, writer's block), but it's here! And a spooky update, just in time for October, too! Yes, Elliot is hallucinating basically this entire chapter. What's real?? What isn't??? The world may never know.

I pulled a lot of inspiration from a LOT of medias/myths, so if you think you know what it is I would LOVE to hear from you and see if any of it comes through in my writing the way I want it to!

Special thanks to my lovely @starcrier, who has been a true homie throughout my wrestling with this chapter, and all of the lovelies here on tumblr and on AO3 who have sent in their feedback, chatted with me, and just all in all provided me with the support and inspiration I really needed to get this chapter done! I probably sound like a broken record by now, but the fact that I have managed to write this many chapters at all after finishing my first chaptered fic in a VERY long time just a few months ago is insane to me and certainly would not have happened without y'all.

Okay, sappy notes over. Enjoy! Thank y'all so much again!

She is twenty-four, and she cries under the tent of blankets that Joey has made for them.

It feels like she is seventeen, again, in a little fort that they make, but there are key differences: they are in Elliot’s apartment in the city, and Joey’s face is somber, and in the dark Elliot can feel the guttural, gut-wrenching grief sounds shaking her down to her skeleton.

Blanket tents were never for crying in, before. They were never a place to say, between gasping breaths, that she didn’t know why she let a man that she trusted touch her even when she didn’t want him to. How can she? If someone has never experienced the paralyzing fear of being completely out of control, of being helpless, how could it ever make sense?

Elliot knows that it doesn’t. She knows that Joey doesn’t understand completely, not really, and that it hurts her feelings that Elliot flinches when she moves too quickly, and that it stings to say the name of the man she had been dating—that his name tastes sour, like a venom, on her tongue now—and that when Joey tells her that she needs to tell someone what he did, it draws a noise of agony out of her not unlike the way an animal trapped sounds.

She does not sleep that night, or the next night, or the next, and finally when she is tired enough to be worn down she goes to a therapist. She has to, Joey says, or she will never get a job working with the law in Hope County, and Elliot knows she’s right so she does.

There are a lot of things that the therapist says. Trauma hits her the hardest. It blinks, a neon sign above her head, assigned to her so that all will know: that she is Trauma, that she has it, that it sits in her bones and makes a home out of her. Is that all I will ever be? She wonders. Trauma? Is that all that I have, now?

Each day is a series of motions, one after the other: waking up, getting up, standing and walking and breathing and existing, all the time. Each of those motions exhausts her. She files a restraining order; she goes to therapy; she takes the sleep medication but that is all she wants to take because otherwise she will feel too much unlike herself. She finishes her training with a clean bill of health from the doctor and her therapist and she packs her apartment, which hurts worse than maybe anything else, because each book and blanket and trinket packed away is a constant reminder of the person who had been there, who had stolen her safety from her in the very place that she was supposed to always feel safe.

But Hope County is waiting for her, and that is what she will take comfort in: that there is always a place for her, there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the worst-case scenario. In any other universe, in any other life, she would not have let herself be convinced to approach an enemy unarmed. Not even John’s flippant confidence that she could make a weapon out of anything instilled in her the idea that things would be alright, in the end.

That had been the only thought that could keep her going. Once I get Joey and get the hell out of Dodge, everything will be okay, her brain would say. Get Joey, get out. That’s all there is to it.

But that wasn’t all there was to it, anymore, and she knew that; she knew it while her heart hammered in her chest, while her skin itched and burned where the redhead had touched her like he was dripping in acid, while the blood rushed through her head in a violent tidal wave that made her feel like she was going to puke. They had stuffed a wet cloth into her mouth and hauled her away, out of sight of the Seeds, and now she sat—alone, tied, the cloth spit out onto the floor of the cabin they had left her in.

She was somehow both unaware of how much time was actually passing and fully confident that it had only been a half an hour; if she moved her head too fast (which was to say, at all) the world wobbled and swam around her. Elliot finally relented to burying her face into her knees and closing her eyes to try and stop the swimming nausea.

The door clicked open. She saw Ase, first, and behind her loomed the redhead. The woman was taller up close than Elliot would have thought—probably bridging five foot ten—which made the redhead much taller than she had thought, too.

I could kill her, she thought furiously, through the strange haze that had fallen over her. If I got my hands on her, I could.

“Hello, mor,” Ase said. Elliot saw the warmth blooming in her voice, like an aura welling up out of her, red and searing; the realization that they had certainly dipped the cloth in something that would ultimately be worse than just dying-by-chemical-ingestion hit her hard, sending her heart fluttering in a panic. It was the same brand of panic she had felt when John had found her in the field; wildly out of her control, as if she were being puppeted by something else, something larger than her.

The redhead closed the door behind them, and Ase closed what little distance that remained between the two of them, crouching in front of her. Elliot tried her best to muddle through the panic and muster up some hostility, but it was hard, when it felt like the floor was both sturdy and melting underneath her.

“Fuck you,” Elliot managed out, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. It didn’t seem as though her words had any effect on the blonde, and for a second she panicked, wondering if she had even said anything at all in the first place or if it had just been in her imagination.

“You left Kian with a few nasty bites, didn’t you?” Ase asked, her voice welling with amusement. “I did not want to stuff a tea-soaked washcloth into your mouth, but we couldn’t have you drawing any more blood.”

Elliot’s gaze slid to the redhead—Kian, she thought venomously—and the movement of her eyeballs felt like they were hitching unsteadily in her skull. So they had drugged her, again. What the fuck was it with cults and drugging people?

The woman reached for her, and instinctively, Elliot flinched. The gesture came a few seconds too late; the drug in her system, whatever it was they had soaked the cloth in, was already starting to wear her down.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Elliot said, as Ase untied the rope around her feet and then her hands, “if you want me to stop biting people.”

“I am not worried,” Ase replied sweetly. “You’re already looking more docile by the minute, mor.”

Elliot swallowed thickly; to do so took concentrated effort. “That isn’t my name.”

“It isn’t a name at all,” the blonde agreed unhelpfully, tossing the ropes to the side and coming to a stand. She smoothed her hands across the dark fabric of her dress, and then extended a long, elegant hand. “Now, do you want to see your friend?”

She felt her heart stutter painfully in her chest at the woman’s words. After having been tricked and toyed with by John, it was strange to think she was finally in the home stretch that she had been trying to reach these last few days; that finally, finally, all of her toil and trouble was bringing her back to Joey.

Briefly, the idea that she could take Joey and run--leave the Seeds to their own devices--fluttered through her brain. Leave the Seeds to clean up this mess on their own. Hopefully, the Resistance had already bolted out of Hope County and were well on their way elsewhere. If she grabbed Joey and got out--if she could get in touch with law enforcement outside of Hope County--

Elliot stared at the Swede's hand and tried to gather her thoughts up in one place. It felt too much like they had become marbles, spilling out of her hands every time she tried to focus. She took a breath and then forced herself to a stand, blatantly ignoring Ase's outstretched hand. Just the act of using her legs to stand felt a little like being on stilts; the world lurched and ground to a watery stop around her, and only confirmed, infuriatingly, what Ase had said--that she was in no shape to bolt, or fight for that matter.

"Come along, then," Ase said pleasantly, taking a few steps away from her. Those few steps made it look as though the ground stretched out for miles between them, and her stomach twisted. The blonde looked at her over her shoulder and smiled.

"Kian, help our friend," she murmured. The redhead stepped forward and reached for her, ever obedient to his master, and Elliot immediately gritted her teeth and took an unsteady step backward.

"Kian, don’t," she bit out, mimicking Ase’s honeyed tone as much as she could. And then, less sweet: "If you touch me again, you'll walk away with a lot more than a bite mark, fuckhead."

Kian flashed a smile that felt like a snake against her skin and gestured for her to go on ahead. "Go on, then."

Just being in his proximity again made her skin crawl; it felt still like his hand was around her throat, the heat of his breath against the shell of her ear. Even in the dizzying haze that had settled over her, she felt her heart leap uneasily into her throat at the memory.

Before she realized what was happening, Elliot's feet had carried her out around Kian and out of the cabin, trailing the beacon that Ase had become, a strange green aura undulating around her. I hate this, she thought, watching the way the trees around her shifted and bled into the night sky.

"How—how long was I in there?" She asked, falling into an uneasy pace next to Ase.

"A few hours," she replied, looking over at her. "Felt shorter?"

Yes, Elliot thought, but the word didn't come to her mouth. The ground slid under her feet; the world around her pulsed in time with her breaths, stretching and cinching in equal parts until she found herself standing in front of another of the cabins. In the distance, the sound of the lake water lapping at the shore echoed over and over in her head.

Ase pushed the door to the cabin open, and inside sat Joey Hudson.

She looked tired, days of exhaustion sitting heavy on her face, a dark shadow of sleeplessness and makeup both ringing her eyes. Joey had always been pretty, and now was no exception; the brunette, though her clothes were dirty and her eyes fluttered with tiredness, was just as lovely as she always was. The sight of her had Elliot’s head and heart swimming with emotion, rising up thick and high in her throat until she thought she might come unglued right there, in front of a psychotic woman.

But with the feeling of being on a seesaw unseating her nonstop, and the desperate, aching reminder of the person she had been missing all along, Elliot didn’t think almost anything about Ase. As far as she was concerned, in that moment, the woman ceased to exist; the same choking feeling that she’d felt when Jerome had said, you can tell me if it’s not okay. A relinquishing. A lifting of her burden. You don’t have to Atlas this thing alone.

“Joey,” Elliot said, the woman’s name coming out of her mouth hoarse and heavy. Joey’s eyes fluttered tiredly and she mustered up the closest thing to a smile.

“Hey, El,” Joey replied. As Elliot crossed the space between them and immediately crouched to kneel in front of her, the smile warmed into something more genuine. In an effort of lightness, the brunette said, “You should have called, I would have cleaned up.”

Elliot felt the soft, wrecked little sound, so close to a sob, more than she heard it; it was a choked almost-laugh, her hands fluttering absently as though unsure of where to land. “I tried,” she managed out, as thinking and speaking became harder, her jaw stiff and unyielding. “I tried, Joey—”

Joey nodded and said, “I know.”

“I will leave you,” Ase said lightly from the door, “but, Elliot? You only have a short time before you become fully open to the influence. I would drink some water.”

The blonde turned, leaving and closing the door behind her, leaving just the two of them there. By then, even while the world swam around her, and she thought she could see little sparks of orange light flying off of Joey, she threw her arms around the brunette and hugged her tightly. It took a minute for her to realize that she was crying--happy, relieved tears, the kind that came suddenly and without warning.

“I was so worried about you,” Elliot murmured between sniffles, pulling back and immediately searching for restraints. There were none. Unlike John Seed’s version of Joey’s captivity, no duct tape covered her mouth, nothing bound her hands together; she was just sitting in there—probably knowing well enough that running would have been a worse idea. “I thought John had you, and then he got me, and then he said he’d pawned you off to Faith, and—”

“Slow down,” Joey laughed, the sound not quite reaching deep enough in the cavity of her chest to be a real one. “You have crazy eyes, El.”

“They gave me something,” she explained, pressing the heel of her palm against her eye. “They did it once before, but it was stronger then.”

Joey handed her the bottle of water she had been nursing, uncapping it for her. “They gave it to me too, once,” she replied. “But not again. Maybe I didn’t give them the response they were looking for. Elliot, these people are--there’s something really wrong here. They keep talking about this thing in the woods, asking if I’ve seen it...”

Elliot took a big swallow of the water, shifting on her knees and then taking another. She felt absolutely parched—the water tasted a little funny, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted her own sense of taste right in that moment anyway. “We have to get out,” she said. Whatever the cult believed in or practiced didn’t matter; what mattered was getting the fuck away from them.

She was certain she could hear Ase’s voice just outside. She lowered her voice, trying her hardest to make sure she was whispering, “We were hoping to—I mean, I was hoping to—the plan went wrong, Joey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But we can still get out.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Joey asked. “Sheriff Whitehorse, and Burke, and…”

Her voice trailed off absently, and Elliot could feel the brunette’s eyes on her. She hesitated, taking Joey’s hands in her own before she replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then who is ‘we’? Jerome and the others?”

“No, Jo, it’s--”

The door clicked open behind them, echoing once, twice, three times in Elliot’s head before she turned to see Ase looming in the doorway. Long, dark, the sharp angle of her jawline and the high slope of her cheeks making her look more severe, more beautiful than before.

“It is time for you to see,” she said, her voice light. “You will have time with your friend later.”

“What about Faith?” Elliot asked, struggling to her feet. “I want to see that Faith is okay too. That you haven’t—”

“After,” Ase replied, her voice startlingly ironclad.

“Joey comes with me.” She tried again, tried to force her voice to firmness, to assertion. But Ase only smiled, tranquil now despite the hardness of her voice. She crossed the small space between them, looming in Elliot’s vision--eclipsing all other light, taking away all sense of anything else outside of her.

“She stays,” Ase replied, not unkindly. “This is only for you to see.”

She crossed the distance of the cabin between them and reached for Elliot, taking her hand. The contact made Elliot’s skin buzz. She was so tired--so tired of this stretching and pulling of herself, so tired of the way their drugs made everything somehow more than what she could handle and forced her to handle it anyway.

“Joey—”

Elliot turned back to look at the brunette, reaching for her as Ase pulled her along; Joey had pulled herself to a stand and was trying to follow after them, saying something like, it’s okay, I don’t mind coming, really, more practiced at polite coercion than Elliot was. Before Joey could reach the door after them, Elliot saw the broad, tall form of Kian blocking out the doorway, saying something to Joey in Swedish.

“Hey! Leave her alone, you fuck—”

Ase pulled on her hand, hard, yanking her until she was stumbling after her sleek figure. Out in the night, where the air was chilly with an early-Autumn coldness and Elliot could see her breath floating out of her mouth, she almost felt at peace for a second. Everything was still. Incredibly still, the way the surface of a pond was before a stone landed.

One step at a time, she walked her to the edge of the campground. They broke the treeline, hand-in-hand, until they could see Sacred Skies Lake stretched out below them. Elliot craned her neck to try and see the cabin where they were keeping Joey, but the trees blocked most of her vision of the campground.

“Look, there,” Ase said, interrupting her thoughts. She gestured down at the far treeline. When Elliot turned to look, she saw nothing; only darkness in the still woods. Too still, she thought now—still in the way the forest was when a predator had arrived and all the prey had fled.

The lake rippled below them, and then smoothed out, dark and clear as glass. She tried desperately to see--really see, not just what the drugs were making her see, as though she could brute force her way through the barrage of sensations overwhelming her.

And then: “Hey!”

It was a woman’s voice, thrown from somewhere down by the lake. Elliot felt apprehension crawling across her skin. She didn’t know why it was making her nervous, but she strained to listen for it again all the same.

The voice said again, “Hey, Elli!” and she felt her stomach drop. It was her mother’s voice, the sweet Georgia drawl that her mother had always sported, calling to her from the woods. Calling for her.

“Mama?” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and hoarse and bubbling before it even left her mouth. She felt Ase’s eyes on her, inquisitive, but all she could think about was I have to get her out of here, what is she doing here? Why isn’t she with the others?, so louder this time, she went, “Mama, I’m here!”

She took a step forward. It was Ase’s hand that stopped her, a gentle shake of her head. Elliot looked back at the woman for some kind of answer, but her expression was empty of anything that might have been helpful; on it was only the serene, delicate smile of a woman enthralled.

There was a stretch of silence. Something dark shifted in the trees. Something big, rippling leaves and branches as it moved. 

And then: “Mama?”

It was her voice.

It called, again, “Mama, I’m here?”, and the pitch and timbre felt the same as her own voice, like she’d shouted into an echoed canyon, but it was wrong. It was all wrong. It sounded like something trying her out, feeling out the way she sounded. Practicing.

The air bubbled around her with some kind of emotion. It popped, pulled tight, stretching over her vision like saran wrap, until it hurt to keep her eyes open, until she thought desperately that all she wanted to do was close her eyes—but she couldn’t. She had to stay awake, stay clear, stay conscious. For herself, for Joey and Boomer and for—

(Whether you like it or not, you and I are on the same side.)

It called, from deep in the treeline beyond the lake, again. “I’m here!” The voice pitched and pulled between words, like whatever it was kept trying to get the exact cadence of her words—trying her out, tasting. Sliding beneath her skin.

“What the fuck is that?” Elliot whispered. Ase smiled serenely at her, and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Look harder,” Ase murmured. “You will see It.”

She took a step forward, her heart thundering in her chest, trying to see beyond the utter stillness of the forest. Nothing moved; nothing breathed in time with her, anymore; where the drumbeat of the world had once felt it was intrinsically tied to her, she was now cut off from it, in a cold, dead space somewhere beyond.

Something in the trees shifted again, and rumbled.

“It has been waiting for you,” Ase murmured, coming up behind Elliot. Her voice was silky, warm, spinning a web around and around her until it made her feel—

Safe.

“What has?” Elliot managed out, swallowing thickly.

“We call it the Father,” she said. “It talks to us, when we are open to it. In voices we recognize, in the voices of our loved ones, so that it does not scare us.”

Her hands were on Elliot’s shoulders, gently squeezing, and she thought she was going to throw up. The trees in the distance warped and bent, swallowed up by something big and dark and humming, the vibration of it melting around her thrumming beneath her skin.

“It tells us, Elliot, that the end of the world is here. Your own Eden’s Gate knows it, do they not?” Ase’s voice was more urgent now; Elliot didn’t have time to think about how she said your own Eden’s Gate before she was plunging on. “They know it. The only difference between us and them is that we serve It, that we help to usher it in. Just as we once took, so do we give back to It—life, cyclic and infinite. You know it. You understood the words, in the flowers, didn’t you?”

My heart aches for you.

Be gentle with me.

I come soon.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she said, the words coming out slick with panic, spilling out of her before she could stop them. Her shoulders scrunched up to her jaw to try and brush Ase’s hands off of her. “You’re insane. You—crazy bitch—”

They were John’s words, not her own, but it was all she could muster up; the woman’s face remained light and serene, turning Elliot to look at her now.

“It waits for you,” she insisted, her voice wobbling around Elliot like the reverb of a bass drum. “I told you that you would always come back to us. I knew when I saw your color.” Her gaze swept over Elliot, almost affectionate. “White, in perfect balance.”

“Stop touching me,” Elliot managed out, pushing Ase’s hands weakly off of her. The strange thrumming persisted under her skin, a violent cacophony as she tried to block out the sound of her own voice beckoning her from the woods. Hey! Mama, I’m here! It said, begging her to follow, begging her to investigate.

Breathing became harder. It felt like she was gulping in lungfuls of water, eeking out whatever oxygen she could, but no matter where she looked to try and get Ase out of her mind she only saw dark trees; bending and curling and pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

“Mor,” Ase said, taking Elliot’s face in her hands like a lover would, “Mother, that’s what you are. For us, to us, while we serve It.”

“Fuck you,” she spit out, but her voice cracked instead, the fear welling up inside of her like a tidal wave. “I’ll—”

Ase shook her head. “I told you, it is a cycle,” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. It waits for us all, Elliot, and it will have you. As It gives, so too, does it take.”

She opened her mouth to respond when the loud crack of a gunshot echoed just a few feet away. Ase’s head snapped around viciously, her hand still gripping Elliot’s face with a firm, unforgiving hold; even in the dark, even with the drug wreaking havoc on her system, Elliot recognized the filthy backwater whooping of Peggies.

The flash of headlights through the trees suddenly brought everything back to life, the sound roaring in through Elliot’s head like someone had flicked the mute button back off again.

She turned to look back at the lake. Whatever had been lurking there was gone, now. The sound of feet hitting the dirt, shouted words in a foreign language, and the sweeping realization that they might yet still get out of here sent her heart hammering.

Ase pulled on her, hard, until she was stumbling after her. She craned her neck to try and see if she recognized anyone, to see if she could see one familiar face, but where the gunshots were echoing was already far enough that she could only see the brief flicker of headlights.

The door to the cabin opened. Warm light flooded her vision, splintering behind her eyelids as Ase pushed her inside and said, with a sudden and violent amount of poison, “Stay.”

Everything felt like she was swimming in molasses; each movement harder than the last, each breath taking more and more of her concentration. The door slammed shut. In the time it had taken Elliot to will her venom into existence, Ase had released her hand and swept out of the cabin, leaving her alone with Joey. Through the curtains, she could see dark shapes shifting and melting, one into another, and she took in a stuttering breath.

“Are you okay?” Joey asked immediately, reaching for her. “What did she say? When they did it to me, she kept asking if I could see—but it was just trees, out there, to me. El, look at me.”

“We have to get out,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, cracking with panic. “We have to get the fuck out of here, Joey. These people are—so much worse than Eden’s Gate—”

Voices catapulted in volume outside, tires squealing and doors slamming. All of it felt too loud, even with a wall between herself and the violence—like someone had cracked the volume up to one-hundred and then pulled the knob off.

“What the fuck? Are those Peggies?” Joey whispered, glancing out the window. “I do not want to be in the crossfire of two fucking cults. Elliot, when are the others coming? Where are they?”

Elliot swallowed thickly. As the sounds of cacophony increased outside, reminding her that she had made something like a deal with the devil, she took in a deep breath. She didn’t have time to think about the woods, or whatever it was she thought she’d seen in there, or the way that Ase had gripped her face and said, It waits for you.

“Right,” she said, trying to push those thoughts somewhere far down and out of sight. “So, listen, Joey, about the others, they’re—gone.”

Joey stared at her. “Gone?” she repeated.  Horror started to creep into her tone. “Like—dead—?”

“No, I mean—they’re gone. Or they should be,” she added quickly, heading towards the window to look out, “I told them to evacuate Hope County when I ran into these crazies the first time.”

“Okay,” the brunette began, slowly, “so… before, when you said we and—that you had a plan…”

“Right,” Elliot replied, her head swimming a little. “Yeah, a plan. Remember when I said that John got me—”

Joey shook her head, not because she didn’t remember but because she already saw where this was going. “Elliot—”

“—and then he told me that he pawned you off to Faith, and—well, Joey,” Elliot managed, “there wasn’t any way I was going to lose one iota of a chance of getting you back.”

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, pressing her hands to her eyes. “Fuck, Elliot, please tell me you didn’t—”

“Well, look, Joey—”

Something rattled the door. It struck Elliot with a note of panic that they had been locked in, and she didn’t know if in that moment she felt worse to know that they had closed them in or if it was a comfort, considering the chaos that was probably ensuing outside.

Worse, something in her head said. It always feels worse, to be trapped.

Someone banged on the door three times, and then through it came a blissfully familiar voice: “Elliot? Are you in there?”

Elliot felt a wave of relief wash over her. She never thought she would see the day where hearing John Seed’s voice would bring her relief, let alone comfort: but it did.

She hurried to the door, rattling the doorknob for good measure. “Yes,” she replied quickly, the words coming out a bit hoarse, so she tried again, louder this time: “Yeah, John, I’m in here. Can you break the window?”

“I’ll do you one better. Get back from the door.”

She did as he said, reaching for Joey just mere seconds before she heard a concussive splintering of wood and metal from the other side of the door, which swung open shortly thereafter. She was not wrong to think that the outside was chaos; she could hear it more clearly now, but almost none of it mattered, because John Seed was standing there with a shotgun in his arms.

“You could have just broken the window open,” Elliot managed out, around the complicated mess of feelings welling up inside of her and her tongue feeling two sizes too big in her mouth. “Idiot.”

“That’s a lot of attitude you’re giving your rescuer,” John replied, cocking the shotgun with an affirmative click, click, the plastic shell clattering onto the front porch of the cabin. “What are you standing around for? Let’s get moving, hellcat.”

“I’m not going with him,” Joey bit out venomously. “That psycho kidnapped me and held me hostage!”

“Oh, Hudson, that was so long ago,” John drawled, glancing over his shoulder at the erupting chaos behind him. “Keep up with the times, won’t you? Elliot and I are partners, now.”

It shouldn’t have felt dirty, hearing John Seed say that to Joey—because they were partners, because he didn’t have to come for her if he had Faith already and he did anyway—but it did. It felt traitorous.

“You fuckhead!” Joey snapped. “If any of our friends are dead, it’s your fault!”

“Okay!” Elliot announced, her voice high and panicked. It felt weird to be the middleman, the one demanding that everyone be calm. “Okay, let’s just—everyone shut the fuck up, okay? I am hours into a fucking drug trip and there is no time to debate the moral ethics of teaming up with a cult leader to escape another cult leader!”

Joey’s jaw clenched as she stared at John, her eyes narrowing, Elliot’s hand still firmly gripped in hers. She looked at Elliot for a moment, and then—

“Fine,” she ground out.

“Great,” John replied.

“Awesome,” Elliot said, taking in a deep breath. “Joey, is there any medicine in the cabinet? We should grab it.” She paused, looking at John for a moment, her gaze sweeping over him. He was unmarked. Unscarred. Splattered with blood, but it didn’t bother her—rather, assured her. “Did you—did you get Faith?”

He watched Joey let go of her hand and cross the room to gather up what few things she had—the half-drank water bottle, some pills from the cabinet in the bathroom that may or may not have expired, Elliot thought—and then he said, “First thing. She’s waiting for us down by the lake.”

“Good,” Elliot murmured, nodding and swallowing thickly. For a second, a strange silence stretched between them, and then John took a few steps into the cabin and he reached for her.

“They didn’t hurt you?” he asked, his voice dropping in volume, his fingers brushing her jaw and tilting her face to get a look at her neck where Kian’s fingers had dug into her skin.

She felt her lashes flutter, the feeling of his fingers skimming the still-tender spots sending strange vibrations rattling through her skull. Her skin didn’t crawl the same way it had when Kian had grabbed her, but heat did bloom in her face, and she felt it crawling all the way down her neck. His gaze darted over her face, lingering on her mouth for a heartbeat in their close proximity.

“Stupid,” she muttered, brushing his hand off. “Of course they didn’t. You should be checking on Ase’s little boy-pet.”

John grinned, the expression drenched in something close to pride. “I should have known.”

“Let’s go.” It was Joey’s voice that interrupted, slicing right through the moment, dousing out the flames Elliot felt in her chest. The brunette grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway, out into the cold, black night—a night swelling and vibrating with sound now, no longer ruptured by a stillness that sat like condensation in her lungs but noise, bubbling and sparking in the air like electricity.

Joey stopped, ducking and pulling Elliot back behind the next door cabin when the sound of gunfire pierced through the night. John slipped just ahead of them and said, “Hey, maybe let the guy with the gun go first?”

“Maybe the guy with the gun should be covering our asses instead,” Joey retorted. She pushed the water bottle into Elliot’s free hand and nudged her ahead. “C’mon, get a move on, Elli.”

John glanced back at her, and his expression said, Elli, huh? That’s cute. Elliot glared at him, but there was a lightness in her when she did—it didn’t matter, that infuriating way he cocked his grin at her, like he was equal parts pleased with himself and proud of her ferocity. It didn’t matter, because she could see the hilltop where Ase had shown her the lake, and once they got down they were home free, and John Seed could feel however he wanted to about her.

She had Joey. She would be free to go, and leave the Seeds behind her.

Shouting clipped through the air in the distance, and John glanced back behind them, exhaling through his mouth. No doubt the members of Eden’s Gate that were creating this diversion (and that’s what it was, a diversion) were getting mowed down, obliterated by the organized, methodical killing that the Family was capable of.

Elliot glanced back. Through the gaps in the trees, she could see bodies dropping and crumpling against the ground, pulled and yanked out of trucks that had been driven right up against the clearing. Lambs to the slaughter, she thought hazily, her fingers slipping out of Joey’s hand. What am I, then?

Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. 

Someone screamed. She saw the light of it, pinching off of them in sharp, rapid bursts of yellow, swimming through the air until disappearing into the night sky above her where the boughs of the trees stretched impossibly far. Each massacre, each bloody slaughter ending life after life, the residue filtering through the air in ghostly wisps of color.

As It gives, so too, does it take.

“El,” John said, taking a step down the hill, “we have to go.”

“Joey?” she asked. “She--”

“On her way down the hill, already.” He reached for her, hand outstretched, ignoring that she seemed to keep losing time. “Let’s go.”

Elliot paused at the top of the hill; her gaze darted, without much thought, to the treeline—it’s nothing, she thought to herself, I just want to check.

Something lurched in the treeline. Big, breaking and snapping trees, and Elliot felt a breath slip out of her, violently departing her lungs.

“John,” she began, uneasily, “I don’t think I can—”

“You’re fine, El, just keep—”

Joey called something from down below them; irritation flickered across John’s expression, and he turned away from her to take another step down the hill and call back, “Yeah, we’re—just sit tight down there, Hudson…”

Elliot took an unsteady step backward, and just as she did, she felt someone grab her arm.

“Not you,” Ase hissed at her, yanking her hard until she stumbled back from the hillside. There was a frantic, wild energy about her now, infernal, bubbling up out of the calm, polished veneer. “Not you, mor, not this time. You get to stay and see what you’ve done.”

Elliot felt cold earth and pine needles beneath palms, prickling through her jeans as she hit the ground. Her stomach lurched; she thought she was going to throw up, but when she turned around to see Ase stalking towards her, a different kind of nausea welled up in her. For the first time in a long time, Elliot felt real, cold fear in her, searing through her like a venom.

She wanted to call for John, or Joey, or anyone—but her jaw felt like it was wrenched tight, and violent sparks of light were rushing off of Ase right in front of her eyes.

“You’re insane,” she managed out unsteadily, the heat in her voice whipped away by the panic inside of her.

“I told you,” Ase said, taking two steps closer to her, “no matter where you go, you will always—”

Something loud and concussive echoed. Elliot heard flesh and sinew tear until the pressure of something greater; the arterial spray of it peppered her vision, splattering across her face until the world looked like it was doused in red film.

Ase’s expression went slack as she sank to her knees in front of Elliot, and in the dark of the night, Elliot could see the blood splatter of the gaping wound in Ase’s stomach just before she slumped forward. She wasn’t dead, yet—as John took a step forward, cocking the shotgun again, Elliot thought about the way Ase’s stomach had been spilling out of her.

“John?” she asked, feeling very small and very far away. A part of her brain was vaguely aware of the sounds of the firefight echoing in the night, of voices shouting closer to her, but she couldn’t think about any of that. All she could think about is the way John was looking at her, the shotgun propped up and ready to fire again, though he didn’t. Not yet.

Something brushed her hand. Elliot looked back and saw Ase’s glassy eyes, her fingers brushing Elliot’s, reaching for her. Blood dripped out of her mouth, and the green light that Elliot had thought she’d seen around her now was beginning to dim. Her lips parted, her gaze flickering absently over her face.

“Do you see?”

Ase interlaced their fingers. The earth below her stretched out, pulling her, sweeping like a neverending conveyor belt that only managed to make her sicker.

Another concussive blast muted out the world. She heard nothing but the ringing in her ears as the back of Ase’s head caved in, their eyes locked and their fingers interlaced, like friends. Like sisters.

“No,” Elliot said, the sound coming out of her like some kind of agonized noise, “no no no—”

Something firm and warm gripped her shoulders. A hand reached up, pushing against her jaw until she was forced to turn her eyes away from Ase’s mouth moving silently.

It was John. Eclipsing her vision, filling it up until there nothing else. John, pulling her to her feet, wiping the blood from her face and saying something—something that she couldn’t hear, her head vibrating with the residue of the shotgun blast that had covered her in gore—pulling her to the hillside, pulling her down.

The world swam and melted around her as John pulled her down the hill, one hand gripping hers and the other steadying her as she stumbled and swayed. She tried to look elsewhere, anywhere that wasn’t John, John who had looked like maybe he was hesitating and then had blown Ase’s head to pieces, but she couldn’t.

At the bottom of the hill, Joey immediately grabbed her away from John. “El? Elli? Are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. The feeling of Ase’s fingers reaching for her, interlacing with hers, stuck to her ribs. Elliot thought about the curve of the back of Ase’s head, concave from the shotgun shell, the carmine spray of the woman’s wound coating her face.

“If you want to stand around down here and chit chat, that’s fine.” It was Jacob’s voice. When had Jacob gotten there? Why was he there? She watched him grab Faith’s hand and pull the girl along, heading further down to the lake. “We’re leaving.”

“When—” Elliot began, still dazed, feeling like the world was becoming a watercolor painting around her. “When did Jacob—”

“Drink some water,” Joey said, holding the water bottle out to her, “and we’ll talk about it later, but right now we need to move, Elli.”

She nodded numbly, clutching Joey’s hand as she started to walk, John’s radiating warmth on the other side of her. Elliot glanced at him through the corner of his eyes for any indication that he felt, at all, any emotion about what he’d just done—but he only looked quietly troubled, his fingers brushing hers as they walked.

He’d said to her, grinning slick, yours must surely be the sin of wrath. But she didn’t feel so very wrathful now, Ase’s blood on her face and the world falling apart around her. She watched him, glancing around through the trees, checking the chaos behind them, the slaughterhouse he had led his lambs to.

Not this one. John’s voice, hissing in her ear, as she gasped around lungfuls of water. This one’s not clean.

John’s hands on either side of her face, gripping, grounding her to the earth when she felt like she was going to float away, when it felt like the earth was slipping out from beneath her feet. John, not grimacing or flinching when her nails dug into his arm to keep her present, to keep her anchored.

Which one are you? she thought, staring at him until her eyes burned, until he looked over at her inquisitively. Which John are you?

John, glowing with pride at Joseph’s praise. John, irritably telling her to smoke a cigarette because he knew from one casual conversation that it would relax her. John, his fingers brushing the skin just below her collarbone, saying maybe we’ll tattoo it here, just over your heart. John, calling her a killer.

By the pricking of my thumbs.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,461 Triggers: spoilers in warnings Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil, Patton Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Regular Angst

Chapter 15 (Check end notes for trigger warnings)

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   Roman numbly leaned against Thomas on the couch, buried under the throw from his bed as they watched Oliver & Company. He had cried himself out and he felt like he had nothing left in him. The bandages Thomas put on his arms to cover the cuts he gave himself were kind of itchy, and that was frustrating. But Thomas got a panicked look if he tried to scratch, and he just couldn’t do anything else to hurt Thomas any further. How could anybody fuck up as much as Roman and still get offered forgiveness? He was always taught some things couldn’t be forgiven. This really felt like this should be one of them. Roman caused so much trouble. But they were all quietly watching a movie. They should lock Roman in his closet or something, not leaning against Thomas and watching Virgil sometimes sign insults at the movie. If Patton weren’t still at work, he’d probably be on the other side of Roman with his arm around him. They were just so freaking nice.

   Roman realized his eyes had drifted off the screen again, and he was staring at the floor. He brought his eyes back up and tried again. He really wanted to watch it and have a pleasant time with them, even if he thought he deserved to sleep on the patio or whatever. He liked this movie. He wanted to want to watch it. He wanted to pay attention to the movie. But he just felt off and wrong and exhausted and he couldn’t focus on the screen. He loved this movie. He thought it was brilliant at tugging your emotions. The intro always made him cry when he was younger, but not today. Roman cried enough for like 2 years or something. That was another thing he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that Thomas didn’t care about. Roman just couldn’t wrap his head around it. But his brain was also just so tired, so he shouldn’t expect much.

   There was a part of him that just longed to go back to bed, even though he knew he couldn’t sleep. A movie was a good enough compromise. It was the same amount of activity as laying in bed with none of the sleep. At least the music was pleasant and there were pretty colours. Roman glanced over to Virgil sitting on the couch arm. Roman was surprised that Virgil was interested in joining. He reads books about institutionalized murder but wants to watch a movie about an orphaned cat who finds a family and a home? Virgil really didn’t seem like the Disney type. For one, he seemed to have dark humor. For two he dressed like he was hiding something with the all-black ensemble with the big black hoodie. It made little sense. Roman probably was just dumb. There were lots of things he just didn’t get, here.

   The stupid bandages felt like they were crawling and they distracted Roman from the movie again. He looked up to Thomas, who seemed to be watching the movie. But Thomas would feel the couch move if he scratched, even if Roman sat up. The crawling sensation was nothing compared to upsetting Thomas again. Roman exhaled through his nose and tried to ignore it. He turned his eyes back to the screen and attempted to focus on that prissy poodle that Roman would never admit to anybody that he loved. Virgil knocked on the side table and Roman looked back over to him.

   ‘That’s you,’ Virgil signed. Roman rolled his eyes and looked back to the screen. He wished he had that kind of confidence and pizazz. And whatever eye cream she had. Roman always looked so tired. He wanted to look good and smile brightly and be impressive and make people happy and win contests. He wanted that so badly it killed him sometimes. Roman wasn’t good enough in real life to be anything like that, though. It was dumb to be jealous of a cartoon, though. Things didn’t work like that in real life. Not that he wouldn’t mind being a cartoon, either.

   He could have a bird accompaniment like a Disney princess and fight foes that couldn’t really hurt him and win every time. He could sing dramatic songs as he defeated his foes. And live somewhere impressive where bills and expensive things don’t seem to matter, just like in cartoons. It would be nice. He wanted a katana and to fire energy blasts from his hands and use them to save the world, making smart quips and clever jokes the whole time. But he was just plain, shitty Roman, at the end of the day, who couldn’t save anybody, not even himself.

   Roman sighed and worked on focusing his eyes back on the screen again. He had spaced out and missed part of the movie, but it’s not like he hadn’t seen it before. He’d seen the entire Disney anthology at least 3 times while babysitting. Jeffery’s parents had the complete collection and sometimes let him borrow the ones the Finley’s didn’t have for Jessica, Amber, and John. He wondered how they were doing. Mr. & Mrs. Finley didn’t have much time to pay any attention to them. Roman thought that’s why they kept him around. They wouldn’t get fed or take baths or pick up the floors if Roman wasn’t there to do it for them. He couldn’t keep his focus on the TV to save his life, huh? Roman blinked a few times and looked back to the screen.

   “Is there anything you want for dinner, Roman?” Thomas asked. Roman blinked and shook his head to take himself out of it. Woah, he was really out of it that time. He wasn’t sure he was even thinking anymore. “Are you sure?”

   “Uh, I’m not hungry,” Roman muttered. Roman shifted and laid down on the couch. Clearly, some time had passed since the credits were nearly done rolling. He was too tired to care and didn’t feel like he deserved to eat and was too empty to even feel hungry.

   “You’re not getting away with that Roman, you’re eating dinner. You didn’t eat breakfast and only finished an empanada for lunch. You barely weigh as much as a sack of potatoes,” Thomas said, getting up from the couch. Roman didn’t even remember that. He was glad he finally got that empanada for a moment until he realized he got something he wanted even though he didn’t earn one-if anything the opposite- and curled in on himself. Roman must have curled too tight and hissed when he hit his bruise.

   “I’ll get you a fresh ice pack for that,” Thomas said compassionately and walked into the kitchen. Roman loosened up slightly and stared ahead. Virgil squatted in front of him and made a perplexed expression, like he was considering Roman for a moment.

   ‘What happened?’ Virgil signed, still looking confused.

   ‘Life,’ Roman signed back.

   ‘I mean last night, fuckhead,’ Virgil rolled his eyes.

   ‘Too nice. Freaked out. Ran,’ Roman signed. ‘How did you know?’

   ‘Damn dog woke up the entire house barking,’ Virgil replied, looking annoyed.

   ‘Foiled by a dog,’ Roman fingerspelled and snapped his fingers jokingly and made a face. His attempt to cheer himself up failed and he sighed. ‘Still hard to hate her,’ He added after a moment.

   ‘She’s impossibly cute,’ Virgil shrugged. ‘Try shooting her some time,’

   ‘What?’ Roman signed, confused. Was Virgil joking about hurting the dog? That didn’t seem right.

   ‘It’s a trick. Finger guns. Try it,’ Virgil explained and sat down on the floor. Roman was immediately relieved that it wasn’t some wildly grim joke. ‘What happened to your arms?’

   ‘Thomas said it was me,’ Roman signed back.

   “Here you go, Roman,” Thomas said, passing the ice pack down over the couch to Roman. “Virgil, do you want anything specific for dinner?” Thomas asked. Roman carefully placed the ice pack on his bruise and sighed, watching for Virgil’s response.

   “Tater tots,” Roman said for Virgil.

   “Thanks, I just caught lots of T’s, I think. Is chicken and roasted vegetables acceptable with the tater tots?” Thomas asked. Virgil nodded. “Do you have any preference yet, Roman?” Roman just shook his head. “Patton’s almost home. I’m sorry in advance. I’ve asked him to give you your space, just tell him to back off if he gets too intense,” Thomas said, sounding wary.

   ‘Good luck with that,’ Virgil smirked. Roman huffed, he was right about that.

   ‘Do you want the TV?’ Roman asked Virgil hopefully.

   ‘Why?’ Virgil raised his eyebrows.

   ‘I’d rather watch you do something than stare at the wall,’ Roman signed back. His feet hurt too much to go upstairs and Thomas didn’t want him to be alone right now. Roman would just stare blankly at his phone upstairs anyway, he may as well stare blankly at the TV some more.

   Virgil shrugged and got up, heading over to the TV and loading up some game with pretty music where a guy in a cloak jumps around collecting sigil things. The graphics were simple but somehow lovely. It was really soothing to watch. Roman was happy to space into it. The running in the desert was a little repetitive, but Roman didn’t mind that as much as he normally would. He had actually managed to watch it for a little while since it was so easy to follow and there was no dialogue.

   “Roman! I’m so happy you’re safe!” Patton cooed loudly and Roman jumped and flinched back, accidentally curling into himself and pushing the ice pack into his bruise. He did his best to breathe through it and not cuss, but god damn holy fucking shit that hurt. “What’s wrong?” Patton asked, looking at Roman’s strained face.

   “He got a giant bruise somehow. He doesn’t remember it,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

   “It must have happened when I was in custody,” Roman grunted, carefully shifting back into place.

   “What?!” Patton shot and Roman flinched again, more careful about the bruise this time. Virgil also flinched from the sudden sound and eyed Patton warily. “I’m sorry, boys. That just boils my beans,” Patton frowned, looking extremely upset. He crossed his arms and looked to the floor, grumbling quietly.

   “Why do you say that, Roman?” Thomas asked, coming into the living room, possibly to try to cool Patton down, since he took his hand and lead him to sit down on the couch. Lita bounded in and sat on Patton’s lap as soon as he hit the couch. Patton pet Lita absentmindedly and Thomas scratched behind her ears.

   “I went for a run, not a street fight. I blacked out and woke up with a bruise in the hospital after he asked me to come with him. When else was it supposed to happen? The dude was itching to arrest me, he probably got pissed when I passed out on him,” Roman explained. “Can’t further incriminate an unconscious teenager,” Roman said flippantly and tapped his temple. Virgil smirked slightly, still looking very unsettled.

   “Roman, you’re suggesting something really serious,” Patton said, looking firmly at him.

   “What, I had a seizure with absolutely no history of them and got a bruise the size of a steel-toed boot somewhere that was unlikely to have gotten enough impact to bruise? And there’s none anywhere else, despite the bruising force? Come on, I know what a bruise from a work boot looks like,” Roman rolled his eyes. “You’ll probably see the imprint line from the rubber sole tomorrow,” Roman flipped his hand like he was smacking the suggestion away.

   “If that’s the case, we’re making a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. We need this documented to file a complaint,” Patton said quietly and nodded. Roman’s eyes widened in terror and he looked to Thomas desperately.

   “No, no, Roman, you don’t have to see him again. We’ll get the doctor to take pictures and file like that. If you can really see the line from his boot, it should be a cut-and-dry complaint. Maybe we can get him off the street,” Thomas held up his hands. “Let me get you some cold water and just breathe for me, okay?” Roman nodded meekly and stared back at the paused game. Virgil looked nervous and swallowed heavily.

   “I’m sorry, Virgil,” Roman whispered. Virgil shook his head and pressed his nails into his palms lightly.

   ‘Police bad memories,’ Virgil signed disjointedly.

   ‘Me too,’ Roman sighed. ‘Still here?’

   ‘Yes. Game,’ Virgil signed and picked back up the controller.

   “Let’s go to the cat cafe!” Patton suddenly said after staring at them for a moment, looking sad. Thomas came back in with the glass of cold water. Roman slowly sat up and took the water tentatively.

   “I really don’t think I could walk there if I tried,” Roman said quietly, tapping the glass nervously.

   “Well, everybody wanted to do it the other day, I just wanted to cheer you two up,” Patton frowned, looking contemplative again.

   “What about s’mores? We don’t have to walk anywhere for that and still get chocolate,” Thomas suggested instead. He eyed Virgil for a moment and turned around to the kitchen again.

   “That sounds cool,” Roman muttered. He liked the sound of it but struggled to feel excited about it at the moment.

   “I like the sound of that, how do you feel about s’mores, Virgil?” Patton asked. Thomas came back in with some cold water for Virgil as well. Virgil was a little shell-shocked when he took it but sipped it slightly as well. Roman watched Thomas head back into the kitchen and felt the cool glass in his hands and tried to focus on that feeling.

   “Is there something you’re hesitant about?” Patton asked after Patton didn’t answer.

   ‘Fire,’ Virgil signed.

   “The fire part,” Roman provided.

   “Oh, well, we don’t have to use that, kiddo! We can make the s’mores indoors,” Patton put heavy emphasis on the rhyme. “We could eat them after dinner with a bit of vanilla ice cream!” Patton smiled brightly, though there was still a deep concern in his eyes. Virgil nodded slightly and went back to playing.

   Patton looked like he was considering something and nodded resolutely… to himself, maybe. Roman felt the wet glass and sipped the cool water as he watched Virgil go through this giant pillar room he was slowly filling with a magic sea. Roman noticed that sometimes Virgil would run his nails under his other nails while the cut scenes played. Maybe it was relaxing to him. Roman tried it and it felt really weird. Maybe it was different with longer nails. Virgil had more length on him. Roman sometimes chewed his nails when he was studying and they never got very long. Virgil painted his nails. Maybe that would help him stop. He’d have to buy some nail polish or something. But he had roughly five dollars and change to his name. He sort of needed to resolve that.

   “Hey, um, Patton,” Roman stuttered, not taking his eyes off the screen to look to Patton.

   “What’s up, kiddo?” Patton asked, still with those concerned eyes. Ugh. They seriously had to be the nicest people on the planet. Roman couldn’t understand it and it was starting to make him angry. He took a deep breath and tried to focus up again.

   “Am I allowed to get a job? You know, go babysit or mow lawns?” Roman asked meekly.

   “Well-” Patton started.

   “No, Roman. You don’t have to work for money,” Thomas called and insisted firmly from the kitchen.

   “I don’t-” Patton started, looking like he was confused and disagreed.

   “Trust me, Pat. It’s a hard no,” Thomas called back with an edge to his voice.

   “Well, I guess not,” Patton shrugged. “We give Virgil $30 a month, and you’ll get the same. But if you want books or art supplies or something for a hobby, we’ll get them for you, anyway if it isn’t too outlandish. I think Virgil mostly uses his allowance on digital media,” Patton explained. Virgil shrugged.

   “That’s… giving me money for doing nothing,” Roman said incredulously.

   “You’re not doing nothing, kiddo! You’re working hard in school, keeping up your parts of the house, and figuring out who you are and what you want to do! None of that stuff is nothing,” Patton objected and explained calmly. “If you’ve got other expenses you want to talk about, we’re happy to work out a deal,” But what about what he owed them for staying here? If they gave him money for everything he did around the house, it sort of made it harder to pay them back.

   “As long as you’re not working a job,” Thomas provided, sounding very resolute, from the kitchen.

   “Come on, Thomas, it’s not like I will go out and work for Jet again,” Roman groaned, not appreciating the distrust.

   “It’s not about that, it’s about that fact that you shouldn’t have to and I think it’s sick you were forced to,” Thomas reiterated, coming back out into the living room and standing behind Roman’s spot on the couch. “I don’t think you have a healthy relationship with money, period,” Thomas gripped the back of the couch.

   “I don’t like not doing anything,” Roman rubbed the glass and stared into it. “Plus, I could make more by myself and you guys wouldn’t have to waste any money on me,”

   “See, Roman, we don’t think it’s wasting money. We do think it’s wasting your childhood if you’re working,” Thomas insisted, sounding very intense. Roman huffed sourly. 

   “Didn’t you do fun stuff at the Finley’s, champ? You couldn’t have been babysitting every night. We want you to have more time for school and fun,” Patton said. The cheer in his voice was tainted with sadness, though. Roman froze and swallowed.

   “Oh, god, Roman, please don’t tell me…” Thomas moaned and rubbed his face.

   “Okay, I won’t,” Roman said sourly, dragging his nail along the cup.

   “What?” Patton said, looking between the two.

   “He was babysitting every night. And probably all weekend. And when you weren’t watching the Finley’s kids you were watching somebody else’s. Am I right?” Thomas asked. Roman nodded slowly.

   “I don’t mind babysitting. I got to watch movies with them and stuff, too. We played games together, and I got to do stuff after I put them to bed,” Roman muttered in defense of himself, not able to meet Thomas’s eyes.

   “Did your caseworker know this?” Thomas asked seriously.

   “Maybe? I’ve been taking care of the younger kids for a while, it’s not that weird,” Roman offered weakly.

   “I think that’s somehow worse,” Thomas rubbed his head, looking frustrated.

   “I’m sorry,” Roman whispered and dropped his head on to the glass.

   “Roman, no, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situations I don’t think you even realized you were in,” Thomas said softly.

   “I wasn’t in any situations. I’m still here,” Roman objected quietly.

   “Roman, you can’t tell me that being forced to traffic drugs because your foster family wouldn’t feed you wasn’t a situation,” Thomas said firmly, sounding frustrated and gripping the couch even harder.

   “What!?” Patton shot up and looked scandalized, and Virgil bolted. Roman wished he could have, too, but he was so tired and his feet hurt badly and a loud part of him just wanted to get punished already so he could finally feel right in the world.

   “I’ll go make sure Virgil’s okay. Pat, please settle down. I think we might need a no loud sudden noises rule,” Thomas said, walking up the stairs. Roman hoped Virgil was okay and tried to breathe. The air from the cool water kind of helped, but he struggled with keeping a grip on himself.

   “I’m sorry, Roman,” Patton said sheepishly. “Did you really…” Patton trailed off. Roman nodded weakly. “I’ll… have to work on not shouting. I’m really sorry, kiddo,” Patton said sheepishly. Roman shook his head. “I have things to be filled in on,” Patton added after a minute. “Is it okay… I mean, do you mind if Thomas puts me in the loop so I can hopefully not do that again?” Patton asked, sounding upset. The whole drug dealer crony thing was out of the bag. He may as well know the rest. It’s not like it was the whole story or even the worst thing he’d done. It would be easier if Patton knew. And then Patton could talk some sense into Thomas and they’d send him away and he could be a piece of shit somewhere less nice. Roman swallowed and signed yes, not willing to raise his head from the cup and afraid of crying again if he opened his mouth to speak.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer​ @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain

the taglist repository: 

High school:  @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra  @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst:  @k1ngtok1 @prinxietyforever

Hurt Comfort:  @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric:  @smileyzs  @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @k1ngtok1

Fostering AU:  @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll @nonasficcollection

literally everything sanders sides:  @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun  @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven  @ananonsplace @ollyollyoxinfree

[snowdice]

The Horror of Stereotypes (Part 2)[Dice Roll 6]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus/Logan/Patton with Remus/Logan focus (more pre-romantic considering the situation), Remus & Roman, Logan/Patton (established, but not at the forefront for most of it)

Characters:

Main: Remus, Logan

Appear: Roman, Patton, Deceit (but blink and you’ll miss it)

Summary: There had always been a certain stereotype about people like him for as long as anyone could remember. After the Heart War of 1963, those stereotypes had been legalized and places like this had been created to enforce the universal truth: everyone had a soulmate. One soulmate. No more and no less.

At least they were supposed to.

When Remus’s brother gets arrested because of his two soulmarks, Remus risks everything by infiltrating the facility he legally should be in as well due to his own two soulmates to save him. There he meets Logan and it turns out they have a lot in common: they both got hired this week, they both have two soulmates, and they’re both here for the same reason.

Oh. And as it turns out, they’re each other’s soulmates too.

Universe: Soulmate AU

Genre: Horror (Yeah, it’s a fun combo. The horror vibe is mostly contained to chapter 3 though. It’s all still horrifying, but that specific tone is pretty much only there.)

Notes: Torture, Torture of a main character, Dystopian, Blood, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Leg wounds, Mentions of Desecrating an Animal Corpse by a Main Character, Imprisonment, Mentions of Cannibalism, Genocide Suggested, Sexual Innuendo, Fear, A tasteless but not serious incest joke, Medical procedures.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

You know when you have that one annoying coworker that can’t take a hint?

Part 1

Remus was careful to keep an extra special eye on one specific coworker all day and did his best to glean as much information about the man that he could from his other coworkers without seeming suspicious. They didn’t really seem to know him too well especially since they hadn’t been working with him for very long.

According to Remus’s office mates, Logan was cold and no fun but at the same time was one of the best engineers the government could find. They’d been chomping at the bit to hire him since before he’d even graduated college last spring, but he’d apparently insisted on applying to many different places even with everything the government had offered him. Silly, everyone Remus talked to seemed to think (sufficient survival instincts, Remus countered in his head), but he’d eventually accepted only two days ago after realizing how much of a lucrative career he could have here. Remus smiled and nodded along all while wondering what had happened to make the man suddenly willing to risk being in this place. He wondered if it was the same reason Remus was.

Also, Logan had apparently already met his soulmate. At least, according to Dennis over by the water cooler. Though Dennis (who was now on Remus’s would-let-you-get-eaten-by-a-zombie list) claimed that nobody could figure out why someone would love that stick in the mud, let him tell ya, but he had a butterfly filled in on his wrist to prove it.

That… probably explained why he’d looked so scared when Remus had touched his hand. He was probably worried that Remus would mention it and out him, either on accident or on purpose. It wasn’t often, but sometimes people would out their own soulmates especially if they themselves ended up not being a “multi.” There was even a movie last summer about a tragic tale of two people who both shared a soulmate making the valiant decision to turn their shared soulmate in. They ended up together in the end and Remus wondered why that was any better than if they’d all just made one big fuck pile, but everyone seemed to think it was a great ending.

Remus and Logan barely talked the entire day. They spoke briefly when Gavin stuck them together to brainstorm, but it was rough and stilted and not at all the conversation they both likely wanted to have. When they weren’t working together, Remus often caught Logan studying him with an unreadable expression. The times he caught Logan watching were the only times his face wasn’t completely blank, but the expressions were always gone before Remus could start to identify them.

They both stayed late, probably with the same thing in mind. Everyone else in the office went home by 5pm until the only people left were Remus, Logan, and, annoyingly, Gavin.

Remus didn’t like Gavin, he’d decided. Not one bit. He was annoying as hell, hung over everyone constantly to listen in to their conversations (which meant he was breathing down Remus and Logan’s necks when everyone else left), and he wouldn’t fucking leave.

Remus pulled out every strategy other than physically forcing the man out of the door to get him to go. He sprouted off the most horrible ideas he could come up with, quoting old horror stories he’d written in high school. That sort of think usually worked on everyone even if Remus wasn’t trying to get them to leave, but it didn’t work on fucking Gavin. He just smiled more and more at Remus’s stories as the evening progressed. He didn’t even flinch when Remus started to talk about blood and guts over the spaghetti they’d ordered in for dinner. Remus winced when he saw Logan subtly throw most of his dinner away, feeling a bit bad, but honestly, Remus himself had trouble eating more than a fourth of his plate and he was the one sprouting off the nonsense.

Gavin, on the other hand, just happily slurped up the noodles and chewed on the garlic bread while Remus talked about how much it looked like human flesh and have you ever tried cannibalism Gavin?

“You’re perfect for this place,” Gavin complimented him in a dreamy sort of way that made Remus’s blood curdle under his skin. “You’ll really be an asset against all of these multis.” He spat the last word like a curse.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Remus said with a lavish smile and a wink.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Gavin purred. If Remus ever managed to take over the world, he’d be the first one with his head on a spike as a warning to all of the other assholes on the planet. “I like your brain buddy. Though, if I’m being completely honest, I think we should just kill them all outright. No offence to your chosen career path of course. I mean, I guess I understand why someone might want to try to get information from them first. You know, make sure we’re culling them all, but it just seems like a waste of time ultimately.”

“I’ll respect your opinion on the matter,” Remus replied cheerfully, absolutely unable to deal with this shit any longer. “Anyway. I think I’m going to go home now. Get a little rest in before coming back for a productive day tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll walk you out,” offered Gavin.

…

“Great.” Gavin grabbed his car keys. Remus turned to Logan while he was distracted and mouthed ‘stay here.’ Logan blinked at him once and then turned back to his computer. Remus hoped that was agreement.

“Alright, let’s go,” Gavin said clapping him on the back.

Gavin led him through the facility toward the parking lot and Remus’s eyes caught on the bathroom right before the exit. “Hey, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Gavin offered.

“Ya know, it’s a stinker. So, you go ahead.”

Gavin looked at him with his cold dark eyes for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep!” Remus replied before ducking into the bathroom.

He waited in one of the stalls for around 10 minutes before poking his head back into the hallway. No Gavin. Remus sighed in relief and then went about retracing his steps to the office. This part of the building seemed like a normal office building, but Remus knew what rot it hid underneath its linoleum floors. That knowledge made the sound of his footsteps clanking in the dark vacant space send shivers up and down his back more than it normally would. He wished the monsters his instincts told him frequented these halls weren’t real.

He managed to get back to the office without meeting anyone else probably because it was after 9pm. He swiped his keycard and the doors slid open. Logan had thankfully listened to Remus and had not left. He was still typing on one of the computers in the office and didn’t look up when Remus entered. “Remind me to fucking stab Gavin if I ever get the chance,” Remus requested while walking into the room. “Do the world a favor.”

“You two seemed to be getting rather chummy,” Logan replied blankly.

Remus winced. “Sorry about all of that talk and stuff. I was trying to freak him out, so he’d leave but he just… like it.”

“He did,” Logan replied, and his hands shook just barely on the keyboard.

“And not like in an abstract way either. He actually. He wants to do it,” Remus shook his head and half collapsed on one of the seats near Logan. “He wants to do it and he can do it. What is wrong with these people?”

Logan paused, hands hovering over the keyboard. “I don’t know.” He turned in his chair to finally look at Remus with scrutinizing eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment. “Thank you for not saying anything to them.”

“Well, the mark on my forearm’s the one on my employment papers not the one on my back so I think that would have been bad for both of us.”

His shoulders dropped a bit in relief. “You are like me.” Remus nodded. The mask the other man had worn all day had cracked through their conversation and despite the tension that still pulled at his expression, Remus thought he could see a bit of the person he was behind the façade. His eyes bore into Remus’s and Remus wondered what he saw. “Who are you here for?” Logan finally asked. Not what. He clearly knew the only reason someone like them would willingly walk into these walls.

“My twin brother Roman,” Remus divulged. “He’s… like us too. Who are you here for?”

“My… Patton,” Logan replied.

“He’s your…?” Remus jerked his head at the man’s wrist where the butterfly soulmate mark was. Logan’s opposite hand went to cover the mark as though to hide it from the world. He just nodded. Remus took a breath. He wondered if that meant… Well, it didn’t matter at the moment. “Allies?” Remus offered.

Logan nodded. “Between the two of us maybe we’ll actually stand a chance here.” That is all they said about it that night.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[phoebehalliwell]

Centennial Charmed AU where Cole decides that things started to go downhill with him and Phoebe after Prue died, so he rewrites reality to save her, and Paige orbs into a new reality where Prue never died and has to choose between stopping Cole or saving her sister

okay for the record i so incredibly vibe with this ask and i think it would have been a great way for paige to meet prue, as it isn’t the typical like summoning prue from the great beyond to meet paige option, because that’s all fluff and this has Stakes.

i think in this au if we assume all hell breaks loose like continues in canon phoebe should remain trapped in the underworld with cole like the source demanded, and cole kept her down there rather than return her to her sisters. now, Obviously, this is not a recipe for love, but i think cole has enough tricks to just sorta brainwash phoebe into sorta just like an evil husk (like the opposite of what leo pulled with piper in the beginning of season six) with the full intent to leach in the real phoebe bit by bit but the process is definitely going slower than expected bc uhh phoebe’s not too keen on being evil. in this au i would definitely pin prue as the one to go cold hearted assasssin here, completely ready to raze the underworld to get her sister back. in turn i think piper would be ever more manic and fearful that she was in the earlier seasons. i don’t think she and leo would be divorced because again if you’re trying to convince me they’re soulmates don’t have them divorced in every alternate timeline???? but, that being said, i don’t think she would be pregnant bc i think she would have a crippling fear of starting a family bc with her mom dead phoebe gone and prue off the deep end off the deep end it’s clear that all family does is leave you. p3 is very much up and running because all piper does is drown herself in her work as that is the only part of her life she seems to have any control over. she doesn’t use magic anymore, in fact she’s bound her powers, but it doesn’t matter bc prue does enough killing for the both of them. (also paige doesn’t lose orbing in the new reality bc that her innate ability??? she does lose telekinetic orbing)

so paige sneezes herself into a new reality without realizing it, all she realizes is piper isn’t in the back room anymore. but she figures hey you know maybe that was a major sneeze and maybe i was out for a minute or two and piper just went back to darryl’s party. so she pops out of the backroom and there’s no immediate difference and she sees piper at the bar so she heads on over like “haha wow how long was i gone for also where’s darryl wasn’t he just sitting over there?” and piper’s looking at her like she’s talking to me like she knows me but i do not recognize her at all but as i am bartending i’m just gonna place nice and is like “oh sorry no i don’t know where he went” and paige is like “huh that’s weird did you change” and now she’s like actually registering what piper looks like and is like “OOOOHMYGOD WHY AREN”T YOU PREGNANT ANYMORE???????????” and piper’s like “look. you’ve obviously got me confused with someone else so-” and paige is just like “you don’t recognize me At All?” and piper’s like “sorry no?????” so now paige is thinking she’s in some alternate reality or plane or mirror dimension and if there’s anyone who can clue her into where it’s a psychic so paige is looking around like “do you know where phoebe is?” and piper stops dead in her tracks and she’s like “i don’t know if you heard but phoebe doesn’t live here anymore now i’d really appreciate it if you’d leave and paige is like okay well that’s bad and you know offering an apology and leaves p3.

but uhh she still can orb and she can still orb to her sisters so she orbs to phoebe and finds herself in the underworld???? what’s she doing here??????? and she’s like “hey phoebe how ya doin i’m in a bit of a sticky situation here was hopin you could help me out also why are we in the underworld rn?” and phoebe just glares at paige and paige is like “okay cliffnotes version patty and sam’s affair yeah that’s me i’m the baby i’m your long longs sister my name’s paige-” and at the word sister phoebe just like snaps and dives at paige so you know paige orbs out of the way like “phoebe!!!!” and phoebe just dives at her again and now paige is starting to get a lil weirded out because phoebe’s black belt barbie yet all she’s going is just sorta lunging claws out?????? something off. way off. and paige is so caught off guard that phoebe actually manages to pin paige to the ground and paige is like !!!!! hope this works!!! and claps her hands around phoebe’s temples. and phoebe flinches, eyes closed, lost in a vision. she comes to and looks at paige, but there’s nothing in her eyes. paige is like “phoebe. it’s me.” but phoebe just gets up and walks away, emotionless. and paige is like Okay This Is BAD. and when things get bad, you go to the book.

the only issue is paige is leafing through the book and she has no idea what she’s looking for. there isn’t really a page for “oh you’re stuck in an alternate timeline where everything Sucks Balls? here’s a quick and easy spell to get you out!” so paige is just flipping. enchantment spell so she can see past this enchantment? truth spell so she can find the true world?? and she’s like “hello could use some help here!!!!” and then finds herself promptly being thrown into a wall. she looks over to see a woman approaching, and barely registers “prue?” before a bookcase falls on her.

paige wakes up in a crystal cage, with prue sitting across from her holding charged crystal shards. paige immediately recognizes whats up and is all like “woah woah woah please don’t electrocute me i promise i can explain everything!!!!” and prue’s like “okay. why don’t you start by how you got in the attic and what you were doing with the book?” and paige is like “!!!! evil can’t touch the book! evil can’t touch the book and i was touching the book so please don’t electrocute me!” and prue glares at paige and slowly sets down the crystals bc she does sorta have a point but prue’s not convinced. and paige clearly relaxes a little and prue asks again what exactly she is doing here. so paige takes a deep breath and is like “i’m your sister” and prue scowls and telekinetically launches a crystal shard at the cage, frying it. good thing paige has great reflexes. she orbs out of the cage before she can be shocked. so now prue is like. What. The Actual. Fuck. but lucky for her paige is already rambling. “my name’s paige matthews and i was born august 7th, 1977! my parents are patty halliwell and sam wilder! and you never met me because i was given up for adoption!”

now here’s the thing. when patty was pregnant, piper was three or four and phoebe was like two. they Really did not know what was up. but prue was like 7. i don’t remember a lot from age four, but i can easily pull up age seven. and prue now knows patty was pregnant. the timeline fits. she’s just not convinced that the carrot top in front of her is her sister. (she could orb though, so that was a strong piece of evidence for) so she lets paige talk a little more

and paige is like “okay. i think i managed to sneeze myself into some weird alternate universe because um. This Is Not How Things Are. and if i had to guess whose to blame here: it’s cole.” and prue’s like “wow. he’s still a bag of shit in your timeline?” and paige is like “yeah!!!! an obsessive, unvanquishable bag of shit!!!” and prue’s like “well, bright side? he’s not unvanquishable here.”

let’s rock n roll buckaroo!!! well piper is Very surprised to find the girl she kicked out of the bar now brewing a potion in her kitchen, and uhh if we’re being honest Absolutely Pissed Off. because so far this girl has 1) brought up the idea of her being pregnant, an insult to a woman who is too terrified to start a family 2) brought up her kidnapped quasi evil sister not five minutes later to rub salt in that wound and 3) is now actively practicing magic in her home, something piper tries to avoid at all costs. so whatever’s happening right now, Piper Will Not Have It. except prue is chasing her down and refusing to let her leave because that girl is their sister??? and they’re going to vanquish cole?????????? yeah. no. absolutely not. and prue’s got a freshly brewed batch of potion to unbind powers that she’s trying to shove down piper’s throat but she’s really lost it if she thinks piper will ever practice magic again. and now they’re having a shouting match and piper’s trying to leave but prue is forcing the door shut and paige is in the kitchen like this is super awkward and i feel like i shouldn’t be hearing this but at the same time i feel like i should intervene but also i feel like its not my place but also they’re about to rip each others head off so i should probably do something so she goes over to the foyer like “piper. i know you don’t know me but i know you. you are the strongest person i know and the strongest witch i know. you have taught me so much, and i know you’re going to teach my new baby niece a lot too. i don’t think you should unbind your powers if you don’t want to. but if you think you can’t handle them, i promise you you can.” and there’s a moment of silence before piper’s like “strongest witch, huh?” and paige nods and laughs lightly and piper looks and prue with the potion and is like “i need some time to think about it.” and prue’s like >:(!!!!!! but paige is like “no, just let her sort through things. she’ll figure things out on her own time.” and prue’s playfully like “are you always giving me advice in your world?” and paige is like haha p̸̭͕͇͂͑̇͊̇́̽̀͘ä̵͍̪͔́̓̊͊̒͛͌̚ỉ̸̲̬͖̓͛͌͒̅̉̈̇͐͑̐ņ̷͍͖̯̠̞̾̎̂ but doesn’t like really say anything about it.

and piper’s over on the couch in the sitting room just like nervously wringing her hands and prue goes over and just sits next to her quietly with her arm wrapped around her. she leaves the potion in the foyer. you can tell by how rigid they are that they don’t do this often, they’re just emulating the ghosts of their past because they’ve almost forgotten how to be sisters. paige wanders over to the couch and perches on the arm rest because she doesn’t want to insert herself into something that she isn’t really a part of but piper reaches out and takes paige’s hand in comfort. and the chandelier starts shaking.

piper looks and prue and then looks at paige and is like “is that what i think it was?” and paige is like “the power of three” and piper just sighs quietly and stands. she looks to a flower vase and throws her hands at it, blasting it to pieces. she turns to her sisters. “let’s go kill cole”

so piper starts working on the broth for the upper level demon vanquishing potion while prue and paige sit in the living room devising a way to get close enough to cole to get a slice. prue’s talking about how he’s cloaked himself from scrying but he’s never too far from phoebe, and they’ve never really been able to summon phoebe before but now they’ve got the power of three on their side so they can probably bring her to the manor, with cole soon to follow. it’s also safe to say that cole doesn’t even know piper has her powers back, so he won’t be anticipating the good ol’ freeze-n-slice. then paige can orb downstairs, add the flesh, and bring back up the potion and boom no more belthazor but uhh paige wasn’t listening. “what if there was a way to not vanquish him?” “not vanquish cole i thought the whole point was to vanquish cole and get you back to your world?” and paige is like “yeah it was but uhhhh you’re not... in my world. you died... in 2001. shax killed you. i never actually got to meet you until now.” and prue’s like “Oh.” and paige is like “yeah.” and prue sorta just sits quietly for a minute before speaking again. “did they ever tell you about andy?” and paige is like “yeah, he was your boyfriend, right? he died?” and prue’s like “he died right there. he sacrificed himself for us. because he understood that it was his destiny to go and it was ours to continue forward. i never really understood that, i guess” and she trails off staring at the piece of carpet where andy’s body had been so many years before. the words are unspoken, but paige hears them: until now. “but what if it doesn’t have to be like that? what if we could find a way to change things, to keep you alive. i mean, i’m just meeting you now, but... i don’t...” “everything happens for a reason. if there’s one thing i’ve learned to be true, it’s that. paige, it was my time to go. to bring you into their lives to save the charmed ones. this,” prue gestures to the world around her. “this isn’t how things are supposed to be, i’ve felt it for a long time. you can save phoebe, you can save piper.” “but why can’t i save you, too?” and prue just sorta rests her hand on paige’s face and is like “i’m glad i at least got to meet you” and piper from the kitchen is like “potions ready! all we need is some belthazor flesh!” and prue stands up and offers paige her hand. paige takes it and stands and prue whispers to her sister “let’s go save the world.”

so they go up to the attic and summon phoebe with cole soon to follow and cole’s like “paige??? are you fucking with me rn???? die bitch?????” and prue’s like “You Do Not Talk To My Sister Like That” and throws him into a wall. piper freezes him and takes a slice and phoebe’s sorta just reeling in the corner like paige?? and paige takes the flesh from piper and orbs into the kitchen to finish up the potion and puts it in a little vial and goes back up in the attic and cole’s just broken out of piper’s freeze and paige is like “i do hate long goodbyes” but oh! phoebe tackles her and grabs the potion and everybody’s like phoebe!!!!!! but cole’s just laughing like “it doesn’t matter. no matter where we are, we’re meant to be together. it’s undeniable.” and phoebe’s blinking like she just woke up from a bad dream and is looking at cole, at first with a blank stare, but then confusion, and then absolute loathing. “i don’t think so.”

and cole starts screaming as the world starts spinning and with a final triumphant Bang! paige is yeeted back into the attic, back into her attic. and piper and phoebe run up like “paige??? what happened what was that???” and paige is like “that was... cole. we just vanquished cole.” and piper’s like “we???” and paige is like “yeah, i’ll explain everything, it’s been uhh it’s been a long day.” and piper and phoebe pull her into a hug and phoebe’s like “we’re just glad you’re back” and paige is like “lmao yeah i could say the say about you.” “what?” “nevermind.” and then piper looks up suddenly like “did you feel that?” and paige is like “feel what?” and phoebe looks at the her and smiles, tears pricking at the back of her eyes: “prue.”