#and oh course as soon as we escape the fucking cops showed up and tries to cover up proof that we're innocent

[crzyimp]

Whelp, today in cyberpunk RED session my PC Deadcloud gets: reliving trauma of when his family gets murder for trying to change the world for the better(solorpunk) in a twisted version inside a house of horrors, body horror, the backrooms, being blamed for said family death, and Jason from Friday the 13th is here too as a cybered up solo. Oh and at the end me and the other players get arrested and framed for murder by the police and their commissionor is my evil ex from my backstory who we joked is Dio Brando. Session ends at a cliffhanger, fun but I need to process everything now.

[xtinyslip]

"YOU ARE LETTING THE SAME FOOLS WHO TRIED TO HURT US GET INSIDE YOUR HEAD! THIS IS THEIR WORDS! NOT YOUR OWN! they can not be your own. you know me better than anyone." not that she blamed them for trying to get inside his head, was she not here making the exact same move? still, she would not let any of them win this time. no, she was coming out of this with what she wanted and if she had to be the glimpse of the person they had seen before? then, she would. they thought they had any idea who they were trying to fuck with? they did not. "when i first received his application? i had no idea. how could i have known? but with further screening i may have discovered whom he was and what his recreational hobbies were. yes. parker, do not think for a second that i need anyone else to save my... how romantically did you word it? ungrateful ass? i kept your name out of his plans, i kept you out of his intentions to protect you." lies. cecilia would have figured out another escape if he hadn't come but why bother? she had known as soon as that call had connected that he would come for her. it was why he was so useful to have around. not like this, no. this version of him would not do but it could be corrected. she had no doubts. "i was afraid, i'm not proud to admit that i let that get the best of me. it altered my actions." had she been scared? ehhh, perhaps briefly at times but no. she'd acted like it had phased her but honestly, it hadn't all that much. watching the others die hadn't made her so much as blink, not inside. of course, her reactions on the outside had all been for show. ugh.

SHE WASN'T EXPECTING THE MENTION OF HER FATHER. there were topics he never to fucking dare use against her and she had to admit, she hadn't believed he had the balls too. well, she was actually quite impressed or she would be once she was done being seething at his betrayal. "that was --" she swallowed hard, allowing tears to burn at her eyes. he had surprisingly hurt her. well, hurt was her initial response but this? this was just pure manipulation but fuck him -- he deserved it after that comment. "rather me than some sick, perverted stranger getting off to her agonizingly, slow painful death. YES. quite right." gabi couldn't have gotten out of there. she had been a risk at the best of times but she had been easily controlled with her drug habit. in the hospital? just out of reach? going through withdrawal? who knew what stupid comment she might say. no, it couldn't have been allowed and if he couldn't see that? he was a bigger idiot than she thought. WOW.

cecilia studied his expression, still quite impressed he was holding his nerve. if he wasn't afraid of telling her this? then, he was due a harsh lesson because he should have been. still, this was fun. she found it strangely endearing. she could care less whether she made him uncomfortable when she stepped forward. "that was quite impressive parker. i imagine you did not find that easy to say to me? i respect it as much as i believe you would take the fall as well as me." oh, she believed that but this actual idiot. she leaned forward more to make sure he really got the message because she wasn't fucking around. "gabriela though? hmmm, i'm not so sure you or i would want that for her. do you know how many drug addicts relapse? the statistics would shock you, they are dreadfully shocking. all it would take is ONE slip of a needle and she would spiral back down into that same state of despair we came to know and love. except... imagine if that drug was one of my own creation? one she could only get directly through me? what do you think would happen then? hm? do not threaten me ever again." because she would do it. in fact, with how gabi was acting currently -- she would do it happily. did they really believe she didn't have a back up? her reputation here spoke volumes. she had everything covered so if they really wanted to sing to the cops then please, was she shaking in her boots? no, it would be merely an inconvenience and one they would live to regret. @fcdcdmcmories

"NO . I NEVER WAS, RIGHT? I WAS A PAWN YOU USED . JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHERS . just like gabriela and mateo and valentina .. we lived and died to serve your whims. guess what? not anymore . we're done. you're staying away from all of us . for good ." he hated her . he hated the way that she still knew how to get under his skin . he hated the way that she still affected him as much as she did . what was it that gabi had said? she's a disease and you're better off staying away from her . right . that. "you know , i asked myself that quite a lot . i've had a lot of time to think in here . to get to the conclusion of what a fucking idiot i really fucking was . you kept me on the side because you knew who kramer was , didn't you? you knew - sooner or later - he'd come for you and then , you needed someone to come and play prince charming to save your ungrateful ass . guess what ? seems like i finally got my SHIT together and realized what everyone has known all along . you're not. worth. it." laughing , he shook his head . she really didn't see it . well , there went his theory of remorse and gabriela was proven correct once again . she was that much of a monster that she didn't feel remorse over anything that she did , wasn't she ? yes . "love me? do you even know what love is? i'll give you a hint, baby, it isn't tossing the one you claim to love under the bus as soon as it suits you," was he about to hit her with a low blow ? yes but it didn't matter . she had done plenty to deserve that much . "or did your father - the great, great doctor finn fucking pederson mess you up so badly that you can't even feel a damn thing ?" maybe there was a part of him who regretted it as soon as he said it . he knew her secrets . some of them , at least , and he would have never dared to throw them in her face before and yet , he was now . fuck this and fuck being her pawn . he couldn't be more done with it . " and so , you step on her neck twice and kill her yourself . my god . i almost forgot you were supposed to be an actual doctor for a second there . sounded more like a psychopathic killer than an actual doctor . leave the girl alone . in fact , i'm going to put it this way . leave all of them alone or we're going to make you pay for it . the kid has a good idea . letting it all out . telling the cops . telling the press . so much that you won't be able to run your little scheme here . I DON'T CARE IF I GO DOWN TOO . I'LL TELL THEM EVERYTHING . right from the start . all of it . try me . " would he ? if she hurt the kid , yes . if she did anything against them , yes . right ? "i'm the monster you made me . that's right . but unlike you? i'm going to be better, by cutting you out of my life completely . for good . " he had to do it . or she would be the death of him again and that wasn't something he could let happen . ever . " do you even hear yourself ? he was a child ! you just .. you use people . left and right , without caring about what ever happens to them . i wasn't an exception . " he moved forward , almost as if he had been about to do what she said , getting closer and closer , before stopping . " GO TO HELL, CECILIA . you'd surely deserve it. maybe someone hasn't killed you yet , but ... they will . soon . it's what you deserve ." (@xtinyslip)

[wordsfromthesol]

Hunted

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Taglist: togasbetch malfoys-demigod pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You're a detective at Bludhaven PD with Dick Grayson and when a serial killer your after starts hunting you down, you have no choice but to ask for his help. Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking Word Count: 2.3k

You had been working at Bludhaven PD for about 2 years before the hotshot Dick Grayson came on the scene. Though you had grown into friends or at least friendly coworkers…he annoyed the shit out of you. After all, everything seemed to come so easy to the pretty boy Grayson and you could count the number of times you had actually seen him at the station on one hand. Thankfully this happened to be one of those times because you had run out of options.

"Dick, can I get your eyes on this case? I'm been staring at these files for hours and can't find the pattern. Yeah, they've obviously got a type. But that's not enough to go on."

Dick briefly runs through the file before staring blankly up at you. "You can't be serious, right? You need to take yourself off this case."

"People are dying, Dick." You had already assumed you would get some pushback from the star detective.

"I can't let you go after this guy. You're an exact match to all 5 people they've killed." Dick attempted to reason with you, to no avail.

"Then I'm the exact person who should go after this guy. Rather it be me than some civilian." Finally, Dick relented and gave you some useful information.

"Well…everyone was taken near an abandoned subway line." He takes out a highlighter and marks up the map. You tried to mask your nervousness as the bright yellow line stopped a block from your apartment.

"Thanks…I didn't even notice that." He nodded, still apprehensive about giving you the information, as he handed the file back to you. Tucking the papers away, you decided to finish up the research at home. 

As you sauntered home, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Stopping at the crosswalk, you noticed a man staring at you in your peripheral vision. You swore he was the same man from five blocks ago. Surely you were just paranoid…right? You began weaving in and out of the crowd, making a complete circle back to the crosswalk. Yet there he was in the corner of your eye. This wasn't paranoia. This was real. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and pressed Dick's contact card.

"Hey, uhm…remember that case we were talking about today?"

"You mean literally 20 minutes ago? Yeah, I remember."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you were probably right." Dick could hear the shakiness in your voice.

"He's following you, isn't he?"

Your current situation momentarily left your mind as the words tumbled out of your mouth, bypassing the brain. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?!"

"Don't go home. I'm coming to get you." You wanted to plead with him to stay on the line, but your stubbornness got the best of you. Slowing your pace, you attempted to stay in the crowd and walked straight. How was Dick even going to find you? As soon as the thought danced across your mind, there he was, as if you summoned him from thin air.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out from the street. A deep sigh of relief flooded over you as you trotted over to him. Crawling on the back of the motorcycle, you didn't bother asking where he was taking you. Anywhere was better than here.

**

"Wow. Just wow." Dick shook his head in awe as he climbed off the bike, ushering you into the apartment building.

"It's not like I planned it." You tried to force the uneasiness from your voice.

"Right, of course not. You realize he had to have been following you for days now, right? He knows where you live. You can't go back there." You hadn't really thought about that, yet where were you supposed to go? You looked at him pensively, unable to form a proper sentence. "Looks like you're staying here then." The alacrity of the statement caught you off guard.

"I can't just --"

"Right right. So let's go antagonize the serial killer. Genius." The sheer amount of sarcasm took you aback, this was a completely different side of the infamous Dick Grayson than you were used to.

You glared at him as he opened the door to his apartment. "So dramatic…besides, someone has to stop him. He's already after me, so I'm the perfect bait."

Dick's eyes went wide. He looked at you like you had three heads before bellowing, "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Part of you hoped he would begin rattling off some convoluted trap. One that didn't hold your life in the balance.

"Well…not yet. But I'm sure we can think of something. Give me a few days."

**

A few days came and went and you were losing your mind in Dick's apartment. The worst part was, you were never alone. Dick or one of his family members was always by your side. You weren't quite sure how some 14-year-old kid was supposed to do anything if said serial killer showed up, but Dick was insistent.

Finally, you caught a break. Jason, your latest babysitter got called away on some emergency and Dick wouldn’t be home for another hour. Of course, Jason informed you to tell Dick he left just moments ago, which actually worked in your favor. You dialed Captain Holt on your phone and began to strategize. The captain wasn't keen on using you for bait either, but eventually, you swayed him. Everything was planned to take place tomorrow afternoon, a time Dick just so happened to be testifying in court.

"Y/N?" The confusion spread across Dick's face as he opened the door.

"I'm here!" You called out from the bedroom before stepping into sight.

"Where's Jason?"

"Oh, family emergency. But he left like two minutes ago. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Dick didn't sound convinced.

"I also got a call from the captain today. He wants to meet with me tomorrow at 2." You tried to play it off as a casual request, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"What? Why? We still haven't caught the psychopath…plus I have court tomorrow."

"Dick, I'll be in a police station. You can drop me off on your way."

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But I don't like it."

**

You were absolutely terrified, but you tried your best not to let it show through. After all, you asked for this. Dick still seemed uneasy, even as he dropped you off at the precinct. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong. Though there wasn't much he could do at this point, considering he was due in court by noon.

"Y/N. Are you sure about this?" Captain Holt questioned as you walked into his office.

"No. But something needs to be done. This guy doesn't just give up. So either I'm bait and we have a chance at catching him, or I die a horrific death for no reason. Not the best of options."

Holt nodded in understanding, "Well everything is set up. We have snipers in position around the perimeter of your apartment and a dozen plain-clothed in the vicinity."

"So hopefully we have a chance. What about near the abandoned subway entrance? That's how Dick thinks he's staying out of sight."

"Covered. We are ready to go on your command. Though I still think Detective Grayson should be informed of the plan."

"He's in court. So he couldn't help out anyways. The fewer people that know, the better. Let's move."

**

You arrived at your apartment without any issues, though you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. With everyone watching you, it would be hard to notice one more face. Nevertheless, you persisted, attempting to go about your day in your apartment. The apartment that now seemed so foreign to you, though you had only been unexpectedly ripped from it a week ago.

As the day went on you began to feel more and more lightheaded. Normally, you would chalk it up to stress, but given the situation, you decided otherwise.

"Captain…"

"There is still no sign of him," he ignored the strain in your voice.

"I think…he's already…here." A crashing sound was left ringing through the earpiece.

"I want everyone on her position now! Get me a visual!" Captain Holt's booming voice commanded those around him. "Where are my snipers?!" An eerie silence crept over the line. "Shit." He mumbled before pulling out his phone. The dial tone appeared to mock him until finally the other end picked up.

"What happened?" The stringent words reverberated in the air.

"He has her."

"Goddammit. How did he get her out of the precinct?" Dick didn't wait for an answer. "Because she wasn't in the precinct. How could you let her be bait? You've seen what this guy does!" The anger was bubbling up inside him. Out of everyone, why you. Why did he have to go after you?

"I know."

"How long? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD HER?!" Two cops turned towards Captain Holt as Dick's voice echoed from the speaker.

"About a minute. From her apartment." As soon as the word left his lips, the line went dead. Holt buried his head in his hands. If there was any hope of finding her, it was Dick Grayson.

**

You woke up in a cold, dark, concrete room. "Well, guess that didn't work out as planned…" You mumbled to yourself, or so you thought.

"Really? You thought a bunch of cops in blue jeans could stop me? I've been hunting you for months. Along with the others.  But you. You were my challenge. I memorized everything about you. Your favorite breakfast, your confidants, what time you call your family. Lovely little folks, by the way. And then you thought you could hideaway in that pathetic little Richard Grayson's apartment. The only reason I didn't take you then is because I didn't want to. What kind of challenge would that be? That would have diminished everything!" He carefully stepped around your chair, weaving your hair in and out of his fingers, until he turned to face you. "But now, here you are! My masterpiece! My coup d'etat!" His lips forced their way to yours. "Don't worry, my sweet. I'll take my time with you. After all, the grand finale demands perfection!" The crazed man turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, leaving you with your own horrific thoughts.

It felt like hours had gone by before he returned. When he walked in, his eyes went immediately to your wrists and fingernails, which were now bloodied beyond recognition. "Now I wish you hadn't done that. Blood does not make for a spectacular fossilization." He walked around and surveyed the damage. "I guess it was to be expected though. After all, it wouldn't be fun without the challenge."

"You know, you keep saying that this is some big challenge, yet you gassed me and then tied me up. That doesn't seem like you are really challenging yourself."

"Simple-minded fool! Challenges are not always those of brute force. It took planning and timing to get you here. Those 4 snipers set up on the surrounding roofs? Had to get them out of the way. A delay in your communication device? Truly a necessity. And though you had the foresight to add a few men to the abandoned subway tunnel, they neglected to surveil the associated maintenance hatches. So you see, your perfect encapsulation proves to be quite the…" You noticed a slight furrow of his brow as the sentence broke. "Challenge. Now to finish preparing the resin!" Off he galloped, but you swore something was off. A slight change in his mood.

You heard several loud bangs before your captor fell backward through the door. Nightwing loomed over his grisly body. Then his eyes shot up towards you.

"I'm okay." The words were forced from your throat. With those two small words, Nightwing glared down towards the man and began throwing punch after punch. "STOP! Please!" You screamed out the words, shocked at the vigilante's ferocity. Nightwing's eyes slowly shifted towards you. It was as if a twinge of pain ran its way through his body as he crept towards you. Once close enough, his hands carefully cradled your face until finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what I would have done without you. Why did you do something so stupid?" You could tell he wanted to say the words out of anger, yet a euphoric aura surrounded them instead.

Still confused, you began to answer as he unbound your wrists and ankles. "He wasn't going to give up. This was our chance to catch him…"

"I would've found another way!" The words burst out of him louder than expected. Nightwing let out a sigh as he helped you out of the chair.

"Alright, Dick, I'm sorry." You glanced at him for a reaction...nothing. Worried he didn't hear you, you pushed the point further. "Guess I should be glad you weren't in court long."

Dick stopped in his tracks, finally realizing his mistake. "I…uh…left early." As the two of you got outside, there were a dozen cop cars already swarming the area. Two of the officers came up to meet you.

"Detective! Are you alright? What happened?!" The first began to raddle off questions, but Dick quickly deflected.

"You can find out later. I'm taking her to the hospital. Your man is inside, unconscious."

"I can still talk ya'know…" You mumbled as the officer ran off to inform the others of the new information.

"Yeah, but then you'd try to convince me not to take you to the hospital. And that's not going to happen. But don't worry, the captain is on his way there now. You'll get to regale the entire course of events with him."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. "You'll stay too?" The simple question caused an oversize grin to spread across his face, but all he did was simply nod.

[derekmorganscrocs]

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

[imaginesbymk]

“Find Me Under The Giant Rabbit.”

Reservoir Dogs/Pulp Fiction One Shot

SUMMARY: I read a Reddit fan theory that Mr. Pink survived, escaped the cops, got arrested and was then put on parole - leaving behind his old life and lying low as a waiter at Jack Rabbit Slims. What happens when you show up to the restaurant one night?

PAIRING: Mr. Pink/Buddy Holly waiter x Reader

TAGS: swearing, smoking + mentions of basically everything that happened in reservoir dogs which is the heist, violence, etc

NON REQUESTED

WORD COUNT: 2,870 (it’s long i’m sorry)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is probably the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, and it’s nothing tarantino would ever put in his films, also there’s no way PF and RS can legitimately tie in together 100% even though there are some factors to support otherwise, but i wanted to write this and see something lol :( leave a like/reblog + feedback!!!

[gif credit]

YOU put your car in park, shutting off the engine, and observed it from afar. It was one hell of a big restaurant, almost a bit too cartoon-like. There was a giant anthropomorphic rabbit on top, and the lights claiming the name were glowing a bright red and yellow. Mind you, this was in Los Angeles, so who wouldn’t blame you if you took one look at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, and mistake it for a restaurant at Six Flags? 

Dozens of bikers came in with their motorcycles, yet their engines couldn’t even overpower the chatter coming from newcomers left and right. You ignored a heavy tattooed biker dressed in all leather and denim catcalling you from afar, and you reached the front desk. 

A man dressed in uniform, most definitely in character, tipped his hat at you and led you to a table with only two chairs. You weren’t expecting anyone to join you in the other seat across. So what if you went for dinner by yourself? You didn’t bother asking anyone to join you for that matter. Not anyone you could think of at the top of your head would be any less boring.

You began tracing your fingers around the rim of the ketchup bottle when not even five seconds after sitting down, a lady approached your table with ruby red lips. 

Of course, you thought. Servers were dressed up as icons from the 50s era.

“Marilyn,” you say in awe.

“Close enough,” Instead of being seated in the Marilyn Monroe section being served by a Marilyn Monroe-looking Marilyn Monroe, you were greeted with a tall Mamie Van Doren, who is just as breathtaking as Marilyn refilling everyone’s coffee mugs from the other side of the restaurant. “How about I get you started with drinks?”

Ricky Nelson’s performance on stage came to an end when Mamie arrived with your food. You looked around the place while eating. People weren’t eating by themselves. Families, friends, dates, all of them occupied their seats. Now that you’ve noticed, you sort of wished you brought someone with you, otherwise the seat across from you is used as a footrest. 

So there, you propped your feet on top, and relaxed… then you sat upright. Your eyes fixated on the waiter in his section, which were the cars back in the 50s used as booths. You watch him walk towards one of them. The couple was a young woman in a blunt bob cut with bangs, and a man wearing a black suit with long black hair tied back.

You squint your eyes. It couldn’t be...

“Hi, I’m Buddy. What can I get ya?”

You blinked, dropping the half bitten French fry from your mouth. Holy fucking shit.

It was all coming back to you. The news broke out about the heist going wrong at the wholesale, all dead except for one, a cop who laid dead on the ramp inside the rendezvous was identified as Mr. Orange. Since he wasn’t supposed to know where you were from, Mr. Pink never turned up to your door as an emergency hideout, or to drag you with him on his getaway because he never had one. You never heard of him ever since. 

Here he was, Mr. Pink, alive and well, wearing glasses. What the hell happened? How long has he been working here? Is he supposed to be Buddy Holly?

“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell?” you hear him ask the man in the suit who ordered a steak.

“Bloody as hell, and oh, yeah, look at this- vanilla coke.”

You noticed the irony. He left you in a black suit - and he comes back in white. Like he’d ever want to be caught dead in white, or pink.

“What about you, Peggy Sue?” he asks the woman, jotting in his notepad. You recognized the pun.

“I’ll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody. And… the five dollar shake.”

Were you about to laugh? Call out his name? That was enough for you to get antsy in your seat, but you didn’t want to draw attention. You saw him again while finishing up half of your meal, giving the couple their drinks and disappearing back into the kitchen. He was doing his job, but it wasn’t like he was giving his one hundred percent. For someone who preached to the Gods about professionalism, Mr. Pink sure lacked work ethic. Every employee was on point with their character impersonations as if you had travelled back in time. Meanwhile, he acted like himself and seemed bored while wearing an emotionless face, as if he hated his job and epitome of his existence. It was never a dull moment for him whenever he was with you, though.

You got up to use the restroom.

“We’re lucky we got anything at all. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter,” you heard the man at the booth tell the woman as you walk past them, spotting their food from the corner of your eye. It’s no surprise hearing that. Mr. Pink never looked like the type to work at a job like this.

You sat back down and soon, Mr. Pink reappeared, standing over to the side and watched the announcement of the twisting contest, smoking a cigarette. You see him eyeing two pretty blonde women walking past him, and he looked back his way, now in your direction.

He finally did what you wanted him to do, and he stares at you for nearly a solid minute.

You waved awkwardly. 

Mr. Pink tosses the cigarette in a random person’s ashtray and disappears behind the door once again. You darted out of your chair, and marched your way to where he headed, just as the couple he served got up on stage to participate in the twisting contest.

A Zorro waiter jumps in front of you. “Stop right there, mi amor!” his eyes darted at you through the cheap black mask he was wearing. “I believe the bathroom’s on the other side of the bar.”

“Where’s Buddy?” you ask Zorro.

“I’m afraid Mr. Holly is taking a quick break from unenthusiastically serving love birds in their cars.”

“Can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Once I see him.” Zorro then took out his sword and pointed it at you, a grin plastered on his face. “Now, shall I escort you back to your dining spot?”

Although you were aware this guy was only in character, you didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out, or having a realistic looking sword ripped through your body. You sighed and turned around, heading back. You noticed at your table a folded napkin beside your empty plate. Mamie Van Doren was last seen there, her back facing you with her heels clicking away on the tiles.

“Excuse me!” you called after the waitress. She ignores you, smiling down at new customers at an umbrella table.

Cocking an eyebrow, you used your finger to flatten the crease and read the note in bold handwriting.

FIND ME UNDER THE GIANT RABBIT. - BUDDY 

You threw the door open and ran outside, precisely under the giant rabbit of the Jack Rabbit Slim’s sign, just like he said on the napkin. You felt like an idiot checking every direction to find no one. Not a lot of the bikers were seen riding or hanging out around the parking lot, some people were coming and going, but you couldn’t find Buddy Holly.

Defeated, you turn to walk back inside. 

Mr. Pink rushed out the door and caught his breath. It looked like he was chasing you down before you could take off. A song used for the twisting contest kept playing from inside.

You didn’t run up to him and jumped in his arms or anything dramatic in that matter. You both stared at each other.

A few days before the heist you two stood across each other waiting for Mr. Brown and Mr. White inside the hideout. It was a quiet moment, not an awkward one. He just took that opportunity to study you, as you did him. It took him that moment to realize he was warming up to you. 

“Well hello there, Buddy,” you smile smugly.

YOU and Pink loitered at the side of the eatery, where the back door to the kitchen was located. He had taken off his fake glasses, showing his full frame.

“Okay,” you watch him lean against the wall, lighting his cigarette. “Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“What the hell do you think? Cops tagged me when I tried driving away. I was put behind bars, and by some fucking miracle this place took me in when I needed money.”

“You didn’t know any other crime bosses looking for a lanky dude?” Pink rolls his eyes at your joke. “I know the heist went terribly wrong, I saw the news. Everyone’s dead as Dillinger.”

“That briefcase had a shit load of two million dollars worth of stones,” Pink blew smoke out. “I swear, if that asshole undercover cop was never sent to set us up, I could have been enjoying a cocktail in Santorini. You’re lucky you called in sick that day.”

You shuddered, remembering how god-awful the illness was. “Never again. I felt like I was being hot glued to a sauna.”

You remembered the day of the heist. In fact, you mentally prepared yourself for something that you’ve never done before. You braced for what was supposed to go smoothly as Joe promised. Instead, you were woken up by the worst case scenario above 38 degrees. You were thankful Joe took it easy on you and promised another job next time. 

“All right, your turn. What did you do after that shit show went down?” Pink asks you.

“Just did my own thing. I wasn’t there so the cops never searched for me.” Pink took a slow drag, staring at nothing. He didn’t really look the same as before. Still lanky, except his hair was a bit more darkened and styled in curls, possibly because Buddy Holly had it permed that way. But his face read that he had been through a lot. Normally you felt zero pity for assholes like him, but you managed to blurt out, “I missed you.”

Pink, blowing out smoke in the air, eyed you up and down and furrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Not only did it suck not being able to make money, you also couldn’t do it with Mr. Pink. As much as he kept his professionalism to a T, he squeezed in time to get along with you. It was no wonder Joe hired you - you were different than the guys, you moved differently and never felt small. Mr. Pink was drawn to that. 

Maybe that was just an understatement. He grew intimidated by something he expected to experience the least from in the job, and of course, straight out of a fairytale, you had to stop and ask yourself if you felt the same way, and if what you felt was right. Neither of you had any idea. It was against the rules to give out personal information to each other, and Mr. Pink took those rules very seriously, even if it was just one job that he most likely wouldn’t come back to unless a higher pay was involved and Joe Cabot liked him enough to recruit him again. 

If Mr. Pink grew too attached, if he let his guard down for one second, God forbid something would have happened to you. Without a doubt, he would have heavily blamed himself and walked away from the job without saying another word. 

His options were to wait until after the robbery to make a move, or do his job, get paid and leave. Whether or not it was out of selfishness was out of the question. Mr. Pink is already selfish in an intuitive kind of way, he’d rather avoid spiraling into a wave of emotions for one person - so he chose the latter.

“What?” Pink looked at you, feeling a bit tense. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh? No. It’s nothing,” you blinked, realizing you were staring at him longer than you should have. You shook your head, most likely shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to tell him what’s on your mind. 

If anything, he’s most likely sleeping with the Marilyn Monroe waitress. “It’s just… you shaved the goatee.”

Pink nodded, looking a bit annoyed that there was no facial hair left on his chin to rub. “Buddy Holly had a clean face. For the record, the only advantage of this job is that I’m under disguise. Other than that, this place is a circus. I’m zooming back in time whenever I clock in.”

“It’s a 50s themed restaurant,” you state. “Working here sounds like fun. At least you get to dress up and experience pop culture.”

He scoffs. “No, fuck the 50s. Shit was all I Love Lucy and those puffy ass dresses.”

“They’re called poodle skirts, Pink.”

“Like I give a fuck what they’re called.”

“You know Buddy Holly smiled. He was a singer and a guitarist. If you keep up the attitude, no one’s gonna tip you. Nice Guy Eddie told me about your rant on tipping.”

“Ha! And? You will never find me up on that stage performing That’ll Be The Day, moving like a fucking animatronic.” Halfway finished, Pink tossed his cigarette aside and looked at you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt your cheeks flushing. Fuck. “I am?”

He nodded, putting his Buddy Holly glasses back on his face. “Yeah. It’s a breath of fresh air seeing you here.” He stares down at his wristwatch for a moment.

“Your break’s done?”

“It’s been done,” he says. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You’re so fired.”

“This isn’t the first time I stopped caring, so my boss isn’t gonna bat an eye.” He had his hand wrapped around the back door which was supported by a wooden block to keep it open. “Look, I’ll see ya arou-”

“Pink?” Your heart rose up to your throat.

He turned back to you. “Hm?” 

You just had to do it. You reached up and kissed him softly. Pink didn’t shove or curse at you. His features softened, pulling you close to him and kissed you deeply. Even when you two pulled away, his arms didn’t unwrap from your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours now.

“My name’s Y/N,” you tell him.

He stares at you, no snarky, sarcastic comment left for him to give.

“I know you’re not willing to give your name up just yet, you can’t fully trust me, and I get that, but I won’t tell anyone what happened. You got lucky, I think… but I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N,” he says your name for the first time. “You don’t have to go all sappy for me. Karma came in hot. Jesus Christ, I mean, I left you.”

“Not really. You didn’t know me. The cops had the place staked out the entire day, there was nothing you could do.”

He looked down at his shoes. “All right. But still, I feel shitty. Can I at least make it up to you?”

“How?”

Pink shrugs. “I get paid tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” you reply. “Save it like you’re gonna lose it.”

“I’ve had this job for a while now, I got enough to last. But once I win the lottery, I’m gone.”

“To Santorini?”

“With a cocktail in my hand. But that’s besides the point, right now I got enough to take you out on a date… if you’re down.”

“Where would you plan on taking me? Here?” you laugh.

“You’re funny. How about the movies? Overruled, I’m taking you to see a movie. I gotta know where you live first. It’s okay to know now.”

You nodded, you couldn't argue with that. Besides, you two would just be making out in the dark the entire time.

His hand was back on the handle of the back door. Pink pulled it open, looked back at you and smiled for the first time tonight. That warmed your heart, and you were certain it warmed his. He watched you stuff something inside his pocket square as you told him your address. He went back inside, shutting the door on you. You walked back to the front of the restaurant to pay for the bill, and went straight home. 

Mr. Pink shuffles past the chefs in the kitchen, feeling through his suit pocket to pull out his notepad and whatever you stuffed inside just moments ago.

I didn’t even serve them. Is this supposed to be for Mamie Van Doren? He stares down at the dollar bill crumpled in his hand. His frown suddenly transitions to a small but genuine smile. 

Fuck it. Nothing could stop him now. He definitely owes you a date night. He quickly stuffs the tip back in his pocket square, and comes out the sliding door. 

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes​ @aryn-the-bearheart​

[wannabe-bella]

Lo-fi

Jesse Swanson (10:24am)

Yo, so we met up with some of the guys from class, they’re chill dudes

Chloe Beale (10:33am)

Hey we’re waiting on you Bec :)

Beca’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of the phone screen as she stared down at the messages. She was confused for a total of 15 seconds before it registered with her that she said she’d hang out with her friends. Her gaze then fell onto the time.

11:00am

Well shit.

“Hey, sorry I was late-” Beca groggily stated 15 minutes later as she stumbled her way into the local café. Her eyes landed on the group of friends tucked away to the side of the room, each staring at her in amusement.

“She’s alive!” Jesse cheered with a goofy grin, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Haha...” Beca said, falling into the empty seat opposite him. Beside him were two of the guys she knew from class, Benji and Donald, and to the left, was Chloe.

“Hi Bec,” Chloe greeted with a smile from beside her.

“Hey Chloe.” The brunette replied, rubbing her eyes in hopes of wakening up. God, she was so tired.

“Late night?”

“Huh?” Beca glanced to her. “Oh... yeah, was working on something.”

“Here,” Jesse’s voice chimed in, making her look to him. He held out a coffee cup, “Thank me later.”

Beca gave him a thumbs up as she took hold of the drink. The girl stared at her coffee cup, breathing in the scent in hopes that it would wake her up somewhat. Taking a sip she relished in the warm liquid that soothed down her throat.

She thought back to the track that she was working on last night. The sounds just weren’t working, and it was bothering her big time. Because if she can’t work on a simple track how the fuck was she going to make it in the industry?

It’s bullshit, she thought. Creative block that is. It’s the cock block of her music. And if she could, she’d whack the shit out of it. But unfortunately, she cannot so she’ll settle for angrily tapping at her laptop mouse pad instead.

Taking another sip of her coffee, her mind wandered to the cliché café music that was playing. Some lofi kind of beat, the kind you’d hear on YouTube to study to. Maybe I could make something like that? She thought, tapping her foot the beat. It was simple enough. You add some electronic piano in and a groovy bassline and you’re good to go. Feels like a cop out though.

Taking out her phone, she noticed a message from her Dad.

Dad (11:25am)

I’ve been called into work, money is at home for dinner. Call me if you need anything

Beca (11:30am)

ok, thanks

Feeling a yawn come on, she tried to hold it in, but to no avail a loud yawn escaped her. The kind that makes you look like you’ve been crying by the tears that has showed up.

“Wakey, wakey!” She heard Jesse say, in a far too annoying tone. He ruffled her hair.

“I hate you,” she grimaced.

“So…?” He raised his eyebrows.

“So, what?”

“Are you up for it?” He continued.

“Up for what?” She took a large sip.

“You weren’t listening, were you….” Jesse stated more than questioned. He rolled his eyes before standing up, “One of you mofos fill in sleepy head over here. I’m gonna get some of that sweet, sweet cake they’re serving.”

They watched as he practically skipped towards the counter. If she were at least 80% awake right now she would have chuckled along with the others. But boy she felt dead.

She began to zone out again until she heard the horrid two words of bowling and movies.

“Wait wha-“

“We’re going bowling soon,” Benji explained, looking rather excited. What a dork. “And then we’re gonna go see that new horror film that came out.”

Beca paused for a second.

“I don’t remember signing up for any of this.” She deadpanned. The redhead beside her let out a little giggle.

“Oh come onnnnn,” Chloe teased, nudging her shoulder slightly. “It’ll be fun.”

“But I’m tired…” The brunette complained with a huff. “How about this, you guys go do that. And I’ll finish my coffee and head back to bed.” She nodded. “Deal?”

“No, no and no,” Popped up Jesse who sat back down, hearing the last part of the conversation.

“I hate you.” Beca repeated from earlier. Yawing once more, jesus Christ at this point, she unintentionally felt her head droop onto Chloe’s shoulder. Leaning it there, she felt herself almost drift off. “This is comfy.” God she was tired.

Seeing the girls exhausted state, the redhead raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe this one is a bit too tired for that today.” She piped up, looking to the boys.

“Nah, poke her with a stick and she’ll wake up,” Jesse chimed in, taking a bite of cake. Donald leant over to steal a bit, much to Jesse’s dismay, ‘go buy yourself some you dick.’

Chuckling Donald, chewed on it, “If the stick doesn’t work, we can throw a bucket of water over her.” He added.

“As amusing as that would be,” Chloe said, nudging Beca off her shoulder, “I think this one should head back home.” Standing she pulled the girl up from the chair. “Come on sleepy.” She hooked her arm through Beca’s.

Making their way to the door, she laughed as the boys mocked crying as they exited.

---

As Chloe was walking alongside the brunette, she realized something. This was the first time it was just them together. Usually, they would be with Jesse.

Her heart started pounding suddenly with slight nerves.

I mean… She had been crushing on the girl for the longest time.

Safe to say Chloe was a nervous wreck incase Beca found out somehow.

But what the redhead didn’t know is that Beca felt the exact same way about her. Fortunately for the brunette though, she was too tired to even think straight, so she groggily stumbled her way up the steps to her house.

Fetching out her keys, she put them in the door before glancing to Chloe who stood staring at the ground. She stepped back and forth anxiously.

“You’re more than welcome to make yourself at home,” Beca said, stepping in through the door. “My dad wont be back until this evening.” She added.

“Are you sure?” Chloe cautiously tip toed into the house. She’d been here before, but never alone, always with Jesse or someone else.

“Yeah of course,” Beca said making her way to the kitchen, Chloe following. “If you want we can put on a movie?”

“I thought you didn’t want to watch any,” Chloe bemusedly piped, accepting the juice pouch from Beca.

“I don’t,” The brunette replied, “But…” She drawled, “You were kind enough to bring my lazy ass back here.”

They both made their way into the living room, Beca half assed pulled up Netflix, before giving the remote to Chloe.

She tried to hold in a yawn but one escaped her.

They settled down onto the sofa, with Chloe starting up some cliché comedy movie. They chatted endlessly for about 10 minutes before going silent and watching the film.

Around 20 minutes, Chloe shifted in her seat as she heard heavy breathing. She glanced over to find Beca passed out, head laying against the back of the cushions.

Chuckling slightly, the redhead shook her head before glancing around for a blanket. Fortunately, one was on the sofa so she threw it around the both of them.

It wasn’t long before she felt herself drift off too, movie long forgotten about.

---

Beca woke up around an hour later with a weight on her shoulder. She quickly came to realize that is no other than Chloe Beale.

Chloe fucking Beale.

Her crush since middle school.

Was laying on her shoulder.

Beca remembered that the girl brought her lazy ass home because she was out of it.

Eyes darting around the room, she debated on what her next move would be. She didn’t want to wake up the redhead. Who, by the way, looked adorable when asleep.

Netflix was playing random movie trailers much to her dismay. She noticed the remote beside her so she switched the TV off.

She stiffened as she felt movement from the girl beside her.

“Mhmm… hi….” Chloe grogged out, voice full of sleep.

“Hey,” Beca replied in a soft tone. “I think we passed out.”

Lazily nodding, Chloe yawned, her head still laying comfortably on the brunette’s shoulder. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Hearing her phone go off, Beca reached for it. She had a few snapchat notifications from the boys. She opened Jesse’s. It was a video of them playing bowling and him getting a strike. ‘And that’s how you do it boys!’ he said in a sassy tone.

Benji had sent a snap of him and Donald with a weird filter. And Donald sent a random video of him zooming in on the bowling ball.

She felt Chloe giggle as she watched the snaps. “They’re such dorks,” She said, snuggling a little further into Beca’s shoulder.

God she’s so cute.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Beca’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Your heart,” Chloe said, “It’s beating really fast…”

“Ahhh…” Awkwardly running a hand through her hair, Beca glanced to the ceiling, “Uhhh… You know…”

“Uh hmm,” Chloe giggled.

Smirking Beca tipped her head to look at the girl, “What are you giggling at?”

“You,” is all the redhead replied with before using her sleepiness as an excuse to continue snuggling.

[five-miles-over]

Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)

Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.

Word Count: 2,262

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons

If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.

He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.

Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.

It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.

And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.

So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.

Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.

So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.

It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.

With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.

With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.

He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.

He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.

Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.

Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.

While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.

"Hi."

"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"

Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine. You come here often?"

"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."

"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."

"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."

"So what brings you here, Clay?"

"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."

"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.

The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.

"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.

"Play what?"

"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.

"No, never tried it before."

"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.

"I'd love to learn."

You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.

The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.

"Damn, you're a fast learner."

"Thanks. You're a good teacher."

"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.

Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.

Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"

You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."

"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.

Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.

You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"

"Fuck, yeah."

The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.

Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.

"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."

"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."

"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."

"Maybe I'm drunk on you."

"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.

"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.

You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."

"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."

"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.

Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Sweet but psycho...

For the lovely @ronaldrx​

Hope it will cheer you up!

TW: Mentions of violence, strong language, sexual undertones, murder.

At the Black Mask Club, Roman Beauvais Sionis was sitting in his favorite place, drinking his Martini.

While doing so, he observed the patrons of his nightclub dancing or getting drunk on the dancefloor. 

"Pathetic!" he snarled as he sipped his glass.

"Sure, boss. But let's say it's a necessary devil as they make you rich!" suggested Victor.

"You mean necessary evil? You got the point, Vic: at least, they contributed to my lifestyle!"

"Besides, boss: are you sure that they are all pathetic?" grinned his henchman as he glanced at the dancefloor where a specific young man was dancing.

"Oh, Victor: you know he is the exception!" cooed Roman as he glimpsed at his lover (Y/N), who swayed his hips on the rhythm of the music.

(Y/N) (L/N), the only man Roman Sionis was devoted to. They were dating for 6 months, and the mob boss treated his boyfriend like a prince. It was an understatement to say that Black Mask adored his lover.

"It was nice of your boyfriend to invite us here!" said Mindy, a little brunette.

"Yeah, sure! And he was not obliged to!" added Sam, an Afro-American.

"Don't worry about that: it was his pleasure! Moreover, he never refused something that I asked nicely!" smiled (Y/N).

"Of course, but your boyfriend is one of the most powerful men of Gotham! I don't think he would care about some commoners like us!" pointed Shanna, a blonde girl.

"Nah, don't worry! Roman knows how much you mean to me. And he will do anything to please me!"

"Speaking of the devil, did you notice that he is checking you out since you start dancing with us?" grinned Sam.

Slightly eyeing, (Y/N) noticed his lover's intense gaze at him.

Smirking, the young man had an idea.

"Well, I see he likes it. What if I put up a show?"

"What do you have in mind?" giggled Shanna.

"Wait and see, Shanni. You won't get disappointed!" sneered (Y/N) as he climbed on a table.

"I think I'm gonna like your idea, dude!" squealed Mindy as she climbed on the next table and started dancing again.

Soon, Sam and Shanna climbed on another table and swang on the rhythm with delight.

The other patrons cheered loudly as (Y/N) danced with all his passion.

"I think he caught you!" smiled Victor as he drank his glass of vodka.

"Indeed. And I thought I was discreet!"

"Not enough for him!"

"I guess so..." trailed Roman as he was amazed by his lover dancing on the table.

He could not take his eyes off of the athletic body swaying on the beat. And to spicy up things, the song hypnotized Sionis:

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho!

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Oh, she's hot but a psycho!

So left, but she's right though

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Grab a cop gun. Kinda crazy

She's poison but tasty,

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away."

'Cause she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Sweet but psycho... An accurate depiction of (Y/N), indeed. For those who knew well his lover, Roman can say that he had two distinctive personalities: the first one, sweet and loving, was kept for his loved ones, whereas the other was more wicked and twisted. A part of (Y/N) that scared his enemies...

Meanwhile, (Y/N) continued to dance along with his friends.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"What, Mindy?"

"I think Roman loves the show if you see what I mean..."

"I see it, yes... Perhaps should I take the next step?"

"What does it mean?"

"Admire the artist, baby!" the young man smirked as he took off his shirt under the excited cheers of the habitues.

Once topless, he continued dancing as he provocatively moved his hips and his upper body, glancing at Roman with a mischievous smile.

Watching this desirable view, Sionis get turn on. He swore to God that (Y/N) drove him crazy every time. 

Victor noticed the lustful glance of his boss: looks like the two lovers will have fun tonight...

Nevertheless, Zsasz admitted that the presence of (Y/N) in his boss life was a blessing. Indeed, the young man was able to calm down Roman when the latter had his terrifying fits of anger. He was his most valued ally when his boss was enraged...

He would not say that they were friends, but, at least, they respected each other, which was enough for the scarred man.

Suddenly, the song ended, and the clients loudly applauded (Y/N)'s performance. The young man bowed, saluting his audience before he puts his shirt on, gets down from the table, and walked towards the place where Roman and Victor were.

"I hope you fancy the performance, baby!" smiled (Y/N) as he sat close to his boyfriend.

"I did not miss a part of it, my little prince! Gosh, you're an amazing dancer!" laughed Roman as he kissed his lover's forehead.

"Thank you, handsome!"

"I confirm: he was not able to take his eyes off of you!" snickered Zsasz.

"I did not ask your opinion, Vic!" growled the mobster.

"Don't grumpy, Roman: I thought you had fun!" cutely pouted (Y/N).

He felt Roman's grip tighten around his waist as he heard him mutter at his ear:

"I am eager for another type of fun if you know what I mean!"

"So am I!" 

"I suppose you two lovebirds want to be alone at the penthouse tonight?" grinned Victor.

"Unfortunately. Sorry, Vic!"

"That's the rule!" shrugged the henchman.

(Y/N)'s friends arrived near the table, glasses in their hands.

"May we sit with us?" politely asked Mindy.

"Please, be my guests. My sweet boy's friends are always welcomed!"

The three young people sat near (Y/N) and started a charming conversation with Roman. When he was not terrifying people, Sionis could be an elegant and cultivated man with excellent manners.

They talked until the young adults decided to come back home, as the club was about to close. 

"Alright, let's go! We have to find a cab!" declared Sam as he put his coat on.

"Leaving already? Well, I guess good things come to an end!"

"Don't worry, sweetie: we'll do it again next Friday! Besides, I want to be in a clean state of mind for my job!" laughed Shanna as she pecked (Y/N) on the cheek.

"Okay, I understand! Be careful!"

"Don't worry! See you later, pretty boy! Goodbye, Mr. Sionis!" waved Mindy.

"Have a good night! You are always welcome here!" smiled Roman.

As the three left the room, the criminal sighed:

"You have nice friends, (Y/N)."

"I know: they are like my second family. They are so kind to me..."

"Speaking of that..." grinned Sionis as he tightened his grip on the young man's hip.

"You've been a very naughty boy, you know? Getting me horny like that... That behavior deserves a punishment!"

"I am sure what awaits me once we come back to the penthouse..." laughed (Y/N) as he sat on Roman's lap, dominating him with a triumphant grin.

"Provocative, cheeky, arrogant... Boy, you're my type!" chuckled the latter while letting his fingers running along the legs of his lover.

"SIONIS!" boomed a masculine voice.

"Oh, fuck! What again?" growled Roman.

Suddenly, around ten armed thugs appeared in the club, scaring habitues who fled.

"Step aside, baby. Looks like I have some business!" muttered Roman, gently pushing (Y/N) on the couch.

Once the night club was empty, Roman asked:

"What's the problem, gentlemen?"

"You're the problem, Sionis. You stole territories from Boss Maroni, and he did not like it!" snarled the leader of the thugs.

"Who cares about what this old jackass would say? If he is not capable of handling his districts, I take his place!"

"Shut up!" barked one of the gunmen, aiming his rifle at Roman.

"Who the fuck you think you are? Nobody talks to Roman Sionis wit that tone!"

"You're not in the position to tell us what to do! If you want to see the sunlight, tell your scarred lapdog to step back!"

Victor stayed silent, but his gaze was murderous. He was in the mood to peel off some faces tonight...

As for (Y/N), he tried to escape without being caught, but unfortunately, one of the mugs noticed him and pointed his gun at him.

"Not so fast, sugar baby. Where do you think you're going, huh? If you don't want to see your boss ending up like a colander, you sit down!"

The nickname made the young man twitch: nobody called him like that! 

"You're so pathetic..." he grumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Are you deaf, you twat? I said that you and all your little jerks are pathetic! Don't you want to know why?"

"My patience is growing thin!" roared the mug as he put the barrel of his gun between (Y/N)'s eyes.

However, he felt unease when he saw the growing smile on (Y/N)'s face. A deranged, twisted smile that promised nothing good...

"Why do you smile?"

"You made several mistakes when you arrived here, you know? First of all, you believed that you can walk in there and threatening us without suffering the consequences: how wrong you are!"

"You think so? While you prattle, all Roman's guys are busy dealing with Boss Maroni's henchmen! You won't get away this time!"

"Secondly, I am not Roman's sugar baby, you moron: I am his boyfriend! And thirdly, I am not a defenseless sweet boy... I am worse!"

And, without warning, he drew a blade out of his jacket and slit his opponent's throat, killing him. 

It allowed Roman and Victor to fight back and eliminate the other gunmen. A few minutes later, only three thugs were severely wounded but alive. Probably not for long...

"Well, it was easier than I expected!" stated Sionis.

"Sure, Boss!" answered Zsasz as he started to peel off the face of a corpse.

"Ew, Victor! Seriously, can't you just wait to be in the warehouse?" frowned Roman.

Soon after, Roman's henchmen appeared in the club.

"Sorry, Boss: we've been ambushed by the rest of the group! They planned this for a long time!"

"You're fucking lucky that we're alive! Are there survivors?"

"A few plus those three. In total, we have a dozen of Maroni's men!"

"Perfect! Now, clean this mess up: I want to open the club tomorrow night!"

"Yes, sir!"

"And bring those fuckers out of there! The warehouse would be fine!"

"Does it mean I'll have fun?" asked Victor with a sadistic smile.

"Of course, Vic! They're all yours! Consider it as your reward for tonight!"

"Thanks, boss."

Soon after, (Y/N) and Roman were alone in the club. The mob boss turned and glanced at his boyfriend.

"Oh, baby boy: you always made me proud!" he exclaimed as he wiped out the bloodstains on his lover's face.

"I could not let them threatening you without intervene!"

"And you were right, my beloved."

He kissed his boyfriend.

"My perfect little psycho!"

"My handsome sadistic gangster!"

"Oh, I like that. So, what if we're going back to the penthouse and having all the fun I promised earlier?"

"I can't wait, darling! Shall we go?"

"Your wish is my command, my prince!"

Later, as the two terrible beloveds were making love with all the passion they had, Roman thought that nothing could replace his sweet but murderous boyfriend.

After all, (Y/N) was lovely but deadly as hell. And he would never get tired of it.

Provocative, cheeky, arrogant, sexy, smart, deadly, and in love. The embodiment of perfection for the bad-tempered and cruel boss of Gotham.

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

See you later and I’m looking for your requests!

[365days365movies]

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer. 

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

[anonymous0writer]

Jail Bird

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Warnings: Swearing. Police stuff. Ward Cameron. (Lol) Inferences to sex. And horrible writing. I’m so sorry!

Requested: Yes! 

“Can u do a jj fic where y/n is in an interrogation room with the police and that’s where she first sees jj. He sees her surfing and stuff, she is new to the outer banks . She’s really in some deep stuff with ward cameron that’s he wants out of but the cops listen to him. Jj helps her escape and they flirt and talk. She admits ward is trying to control her. He can’t stay at John B’s so JJ let’s her spend the night at his house. But then the dad catches them,”

Summary: You just moved to Outer Banks, but you’re already in deep shit. You’re fathers a dirty business man, and he and Ward Cameron have been in a feud for years. And you’re stuck in the middle. Until a certain blonde in the next cell over offers to help.

A/N: This is long! Sorry! It was so fun to write though!! I love things like this. Also, I know a cop really wouldn’t let both kids out, but Peterkin’s done it before and I took ‘liberties’ with the story. :) 

I hope this was close to what you wanted!!!! It’s not my best writing, and I didn’t go into very much detail cus it’d make it wayyyyy too long but, I hope it’s close and you enjoyed!

“Name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Age.”

“Don’t you have this on a file or something?” You protest, but the officer gives you a hard look. “Seventeen in a month.”

“Good. Now we’re going to ask you a few questions,” 

You rolled your eyes. You’ve done this before. In your old town, you weren’t a stranger to shop lifting here and there. But this was new. You’ve never been in an interrogation room before. Or handcuffed. And if you weren’t in a police station, you’d be up for the kink. But this was serious. But this situation pissed you off. You’d literally just moved to Outer Banks. And now you were already at the police station. Your mother would be pissed. 

You smirked at the officer. He glared, and seated himself across from you. You shifted in your cold metal seat, wrists tugging at the cuffs digging into your flesh. You winced slightly as your skin was rubbed raw.

“Why were you at the Cameron’s house?”

“I wasn’t. I was unpacking my room. I just moved here.” 

If there was one thing you learned from dealing with the cops was that they assumed you were lying or had something to hide if you gave short responses. More information, they would ease up a little more. 

“When?”

“On the fifth. So, two weeks ago.” You replied. 

“Have you been here for two weeks?”

“No. I was going back and forth with my brother from our old house, in Virginia. We were still getting furniture and everything while my parents got everything ready here.”

“Who are your parents?”

You gave him a look. When he arrested you, he should’ve looked who you were already. You had a record after all. Which you were half proud of in any other situation, but now, it didn’t help. 

“Derrick and Ellen Y/L/N.” You answered since the cop didn’t let up. 

You glared at your cuffs, they were hurting. Your skin was rimmed with angry red circles. You tugged at them in a vague attempt to get them off. 

“Can you get these off? They’re starting to itch.”

“No.”

You huffed. Rude. You silently asked yourself how you ended up here. 

~

It all started a month ago. You had a small house in Virginia, but your parents were looking for houses in North Carolina. 

You’re father was a business man. You knew he dabbled in very shady things, but tried to stay out of it. So when your parents announced you were moving, you were suspicious. After all, they chose the rich rich side of the Outer Banks. There was no way your father had gotten that money realistically that fast. Your father wasn’t a good man. But your mother was, but she was blind to him and his dealings. You think. 

So a week later, you were practically all packed up. At least the essentials you need for your new house in OBX. You were going to buy new furniture. But only for the kitchen, dining, and living room. Because those were ‘show’ rooms. Rooms other people would see. 

So after you officially moved, it was you and your brother Ian’s job to get the beds and other furniture. The big stuff you kept. So over the week and a half, you and Ian kept going back and forth. So you only had a couple days to finish your room and explore your new home. 

But you’d been dragged into the police station two days later. 

And you had a big suspicion it was Ward Cameron’s doing. 

Ward Cameron. King Kook of OBX. Your father and him had a rivalry for a long time. Your father used to live in OBX on the Cut, and he grew up with Ward. They were enemies through out high school. And they grew to have rival businesses. You knew Ward wasn’t a good guy. Even remotely, but you were sure at least a little bit of the fortune he had was actually worked for. Unlike your father.

So moving to the birthplace of your father and the home of Ward Cameron was bound to have issues. 

But you barely had time to settle into life as  Kook in the Outer Banks. You weren’t used to such a big house. Or the maid. Or the pool, or money. Of course it was fake or dirty, but still. A Kook is a Kook. But in reality, you were a Pogue posing as a Kook.

~

“Alright, we’re going to put you in a cell while we contact your parents.” The officer grunted, gripping your arm as he lead you to the holding cells. 

He let you walk in by yourself and closed the door. Immediately you gripped the bars. 

“Oh come on, man! Can’t you take these off at least?” You protested, holding up your bound hands. 

The officer shook his head and without another word, left. You scoffed and stepped back. “Asshole.” You muttered before finding the bench and sitting on it. You sat there for a while. 

Your charge: breaking and entering in the Cameron’s house. 

Ward Cameron. You knew you were gonna get in trouble sooner or later by his hand. Just not this soon. Or this outrageous. If felt like you stepped a foot outside of your house and boom, cuffs were snapped onto your wrists.

With a sudden burst of rage you sat up and smack the wall with your fist. “Fucking Ward Cameron!”

You ignored the splitting pain in your fist, but sat back down and cradled it. Your head snapped up as a laugh traveled to your ears. You looked to your left, where the bars revealed a boy with blonde hair sitting in the next cell over. 

He grinned at you, his eyes flashing. You studied him. Bright blue eyes, a shit eating smirk. Blonde hair. Backwards cap. Tan skin, toned muscles, sleeveless shirt, shorts. Looked like a native. Looked like a asshole too. 

“What is a girl like you doing in here?”

You quirked a brow. “I apparently broke and entered a Richie’s house.”

You had come up with your own nickname for Kooks with Ian on one of the long car rides. It was funny to you, and you knew you were about to become one, but you weren’t really one. Once again. A Pogue posing as a Kook.

The boy smirked. “Richie?”

You shrugged. “I don’t like Kook.”

“You must be new. I’d remember that pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes at the flirt, but it broke away to a smile. “Just moved here.”

“My bad.” The boy said and moved closer to the division between you two. “JJ.”

“Y/N.” You answered, taking another look at the boy. He was cute. Scratch that. Hot. And a hundred percent player. “Why are you here?”

“Same old.” JJ smirked. “The police like to arrest me for begin too hot.”

That killed your attraction. Hot and cocky didn’t go together. You knew some girls could focus on the hot, but you were the type to need a good personality. You rolled you eyes and turned away. After a couple beats of silence, JJ spoke. 

“Did you actually break and enter?”

“Nope.” You gave him a quick glance. “Set up.”

JJ clicked his tongue. “I was smoking weed. Apparently you can’t do that.”

You smirked. “Really? I was counting on that, moving here.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble.”

After a while, you turned to the boy. He’d redeemed himself. He was funny, and you always appreciated a guy with humor.

“Do they usually take this long?”

“Pretty slow around here.” JJ grinned, showing you his teeth. “Island time.”

You nodded, laughing a little. “Virginia doesn’t run that way.”

“I can get you out of here.”

That got your attention. “Really?”

He nodded and pulled out a bobby pin from his jeans. You approached the bars, thrusting your hands forward so he could release you from the rings of pain. 

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” He says, and soon the cuffs click and go slack. You pull them off, rubbing your sore wrists. 

“Thanks.”

JJ meets you eyes and winks. But you frowned. “How are we gonna get out of the cell?”

“I have a plan. Don’t worry, Y/N.”

You can’t help it, but your stomach flops at the way he says your name. You nod and wait. 

“Peterkin!” JJ yells, calling for someone you don’t know. 

Soon enough, footsteps and a dark skinned cop comes around the corner. She ‘tsks’ at the blonde haired boy before you. 

“JJ,” She says disapprovingly. She gives you a quick glance, but you’re seated on the bench, seemingly uninterested. “What’s this about.”

JJ motions to the door. “C’mon. You know I’m a good kid. I promise I won’t do it again.” JJ pleads.

Peterkin sighs heavily. “Alright.” 

You blink. Cops back in your town hated you. Even before you committed your first crime. They’d never be this easy. You eyed JJ. There must be something about JJ that coaxes sympathy out of the cop that you don’t know. 

She opens the door with her thick set of keys and the door creaks open. You are so surprised. Dirty cop? JJ walks out of the cell, smiling sweetly at the cop. 

“Thanks.” 

“Not again, JJ.” She eyes you. “What are you in for?”

“I was framed for breaking and entering.”

Her brows raised. “Ah. You’re the Ward Cameron case.”

“Yes ma’am.” You answered, still not knowing what JJ’s plan was. He better get you out of here, or he was exactly who you thought he was. And you’d been looking forward to getting to know the boy. 

“If you go, because you were falsely accused, will you keep your mouth shut?” She asks. 

“Yes ma’am.” You nod and stand. Peterkin eyes the discarded handcuffs and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. She shakes her head. 

“You have to pay bail. Both of you. I can arrest both you for refusing to pay, so don’t think about avioding it.” She eyes you hard. “And I know about your record, Missy. Don’t think I’ll be easy next time I see you in the cell.”

“Of course. I won’t.”

She takes it and lets you out. “Alright. Get out of here kids.” She walks away. 

You gape at the blonde. “How the hell is it that easy to get out of jail?”

JJ shakes his head. “It’s not. Trust me. I’ve been there enough to know she rarely does that.”

You nod. As JJ starts to move, you follow him. He leads you through an empty hall and you bolt outside the station. The sun beats down on your back. You forgot how hot is was. You’re used to the air conditioned. You haven’t been out much. 

You run after JJ as you get far enough away that you won’t be dragged back. You stop under the shade of a palm tree. You stand there for a beat, catching your breath. You look around, it’s nice and warm. A cute town. JJ watched you admire the street and smiles. After a second he asks you a question.

“Where do you live?”

You laugh. He’s straightforward. You like that. “You’re gonna have to try harder if you want to get my number.” You answer, smirking.

He grins and takes off his hat to run a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Alright.” He pauses. “Where you from?”

It takes a second, but you understand. He’s asking what side of the island you belong to. The Cut or Figure Eight. You shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t go home.” You meet his beautiful eyes. “My mother will kill me.”

JJ nods. “You’re a Kook.”

You quirk a brow. “How’d you know?”

“Kooks are always freaked out by jail. And you knew Ward Cameron.”

“Okay, fair. Are you from the cut?”

“Pogue through and through.”

You nod. You can’t go home, but you have no idea what to do. And you want to keep talking to the blonde before you. 

“You wanna tour of the island?” 

You send a silent thank you to the boy as you nod. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

He smiles and starts heading down the sidewalk, leaving you to catch up. The sun heats your back and illuminates everything around you in a summery light. You didn’t even realize how pretty and nice summers were here. You and JJ fall into light conversation. You ask about each others lives, lightly digging up facts and tidbits of your past. JJ takes an unexpected turn, making you startle. You start down a path that leads to a beach. You stare at the wide expanse of pale sand and blue waters.

JJ smirks at your expression. “Welcome to Outer Banks. Paradise on earth.”

You laugh at the slogan and smile. You stare at the waves crashing in and out. “I could surf here.”

“You surf?” The boy questions, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You shrug one shoulder. “Not really. My brother’s teaching me.”

JJ catches your eye. “I could teach you. You know, I’m pretty good.”

“Wow, modest.” You grin at each other for second and then you both start down the beach again. You don’t talk, falling into a comfortable silence. Despite yourself, you’re really starting to like him. Maybe jail was a god send today. 

You walk down the beach for a while, dancing in and out of conversation. Until your phone buzzes in your back pocket. Frowning, you pull out the phone. Once you check to see who it is, you blank. 

“Shit,” You mutter as you see the blinking call sign and you’re mother face and contact above it. 

JJ peers at the screen, and glances up to see your expression. “Is she still mad?”

“Beyond.” You sigh and put the phone back in your pocket, ignoring it. “But she’s always like that. I’ve learned that I need to giver her a day to cool off before I head home.”

JJ quirks a brow. “You’ve done this before.”

You lift a shoulder. “Back in Virginia, I was known to shop lift. Just a little. Ended up farther in jail than that.”

You throw a thumb back in the general direction of the station. JJ laughs. “So are you homeless?”

“For the night.” You answer without thinking. If you are, where are you gonna end up? On a bench? Crawling into your room at three am? You glance at the boy in front of you. Does he think you were asking him for a place to stay? You swallow and try to cover up by gesturing to the beach. “Should we continue our tour?”

JJ nods and you start walking, yet again. The sun is dipping lower on the horizon, and you know you’re going to face your sleeping situation soon enough. Back in Virginia, you usually crashed at a friends house. Or Ian’s apartment above the garage. Ian was taking a gap year before he headed off to college to travel, but that was put on the back burner because he needed to save more money and you moved.

After a while, JJ turns his blue eyes on you, and you can tell he’s searching for something. An answer. 

“What’s with you and the Cameron's?” 

You sigh, tucking your hands into your back pocket. “My father. He and Ward go way back. They used to go to high school together. They were both from the Cut and determined to get out of there. But they were rivals and have been every since.” You catch JJ’s eye and notice he’s watching and listening to you. All his attention on your words. Something about the way he was so intent on listening and paying attention made you want to tell him everything. Your life story. You wanted to tell this boy- one you just met (not to mention in a jail cell)- everything about you. What kind of ice cream you loved, your favorite color. What you wanted to study in college. Where you wanted to live.

So you kept talking, the words flowing naturally out of your mouth. “My dad’s an asshole. And a dirty business man. I mean, we weren’t well off in Virginia. And then suddenly he gets so much money he moves us. Not to mention in a very expensive home. On a beach.” You sigh, watching the sand and your feet as they carry to closer to the end of the beach. “So really I’m a pogue posing as a Richie.” 

“Thank god.” JJ sighs. You head snaps up, confused. JJ grins at your confused expression. “I don’t like Kooks. But you’re a Pogue, so we’re good.”

You smile lightly, and then ease into a conversation. About your life. About his life. You learn all his little interests. And he learns how you broke your arm in third grade because Rebecca Pearson pushed you off the tree house. And how you love the color blue because it reminds you of the ocean and you’ve always been fascinated and in awe of it. You learn about how his mom died and how he’s just with his dad. How he’s a really good surfer. How he really wants a dog, but can’t have one. And you learn about his ‘family’ as he calls them. His friends: John B. who’s been his best friend since second grade; Kiara, the girl who’s got a foot in both worlds and big about the turtles; and Pope, the brains of the group who’s fathers a legend around the island. 

By the time you lapse back into silence, the sun’s practically gone and the sky is darkening. You bite your lip. Maybe you do have to go home tonight.

JJ catches your worry. “You can come to my house if you want.”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised. JJ smirks. “I won’t make a move, don’t worry.”

You laugh. “Really? It’s totally fine. I can face my mom, promise.” You feel you’d be over stepping your fragile and new friendship. 

He shakes his head. “No, look, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to face my dad after I did something like that. I get it. It’s no big deal anyway.”

Something flashed in his eyes that you didn’t understand. But you knew he wanted to help you, and part of you wanted to go home with him. As more than a friend. So you agreed.

And naturally, as you started towards the surfer’s house, the flirting and sexual tension was amped up. His jokes got dirtier, and your flirting was becoming more and more obvious. And you weren’t scared of where it was headed. You definitely weren’t someone who slept around, but you did have a fair amount of boyfriends, and there was something about JJ. Something that made you fall instantly. It was the same thing that made you want to tell him everything about yourself. He was a strange magnet. With those eyes and words, he could easily pull you into his orbit, and you could feel yourself spilling into it. But you weren’t scared of it.

That’s why when his lips hit yours in the living room of his house, you kissed back just as hungrily. And when his hands slipped under your shirt, you arched into his touch and smiled as his lips traveled to suck on your neck. His fingers were magic, able to erupt want and need as he trailed them along your skin. And his lips were a sin sure to send you to hell. They sucked and put a welcome pressure along your body. 

JJ pulled you with him to his room, where you stripped down without another thought. There was something so right and natural about this. You felt something when his eyes landed on you in the cell. And when you talked, you clicked. It was like the final puzzle piece you didn’t realize you missed until you had the whole picture. You’d been searching for it, and it finally clicked into place. And JJ, the boy before you, was that missing piece. No matter how crazy it sounded. 

It was a blur of hot lips and heavy breathing. And pleasure exploding through every atom of your body as he hit spots you didn’t even know you had. You rolled around in the sheets, bodies aching for more and hearts beating rapidly. His touch was everywhere when your lips covered his skin with tiny whispers of love. The moment was perfect and he was perfect. And when you were done, sweaty and exhausted, you fit perfectly in his arms. Like you were made for him.

You turned in his arms to face him, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but you needed to say something. JJ watched you, blonde hair messy and sticking up in the places you tugged at. You smiled at the memory flooding your brain. 

“Thank you for offering to save me, JJ.”

He grinned, eyes lighting up. “Any time, baby.”

[fearfulkittenwrites]

A Hurt Bird - Part 3: Old Wounds And A New Guy

Part one

Part two

Summary: Your bird didn't come back. Time to move on.

Warnings: Implied sexual content.

Notes: Sorry for the wait! I hope you’ll enjoy it.

It had been three months since that last visit. Three months of no more Nightwing, no more news from him, not even a hello. At first you were sad. A piece of you really wanted to see him, make sure he was okay, patch up any of his wounds, maybe feed him a little and... talk.

Then you felt stupid. Stupid, because you were falling for a man whose name you don’t know. You’ve never even seen his eyes. The only things you knew about his personal life was that he lived alone, and had a very limited amount of cutlery at his place. Why were you so stupid as to believe that he’d ever want anything more than just bandages and ice from you? How was your perfectly capable, functioning brain, able to convince you that a vigilante could have any interest in you, a civilian?

And then, obviously, you felt angry. Angry, because how dare him? How dare he appear in your fire escape, beaten and bloodied, then throw up in your kitchen, let you give him stitches and wash his hair, and then not even show up to say that he’s fine? He should be sending you fruit baskets and buying you overly expensive brunch treats. And no, he wasn’t dead, because the bastard had been seen jumping through Blüd’s rooftops multiple times since your last encounter.

So you did what you should have done a long time ago; you moved on. A friend had set you up with a guy who was a friend of a friend of hers, or something along those lines. What truly mattered was that he was a handsome man, that took you out to a nice place and whose charm dragged you to his bed on your first date, and right now, as you blinked yourself awake, staring at his sleeping face, you made an effort to remember his name. His face looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what made you feel that way.

“What are you looking at, hm?” He whispered, an amused smile plastered on his lips as he slowly opened his bright blue eyes.

“Nothing.” You answered, fingers lightly tracing his cheekbones “You have a scar here.” You point out, tracing a faded white line right below his eyes “How did that end up there?”

“Well, I do get punched a lot.” He laughed, voice raspy “I’m a cop after all, and with this new drug craze in Blüd...” He shook his head slightly “A lot of junkies trash around when being detained.”

“I see.” You kept tracing his scar when his name suddenly came back to you. Richard. That was most likely it. You were 90% sure “I’m gonna go grab myself a cup of water, okay?” You said “Want me to bring you one?”

“No, I’m fine.” He nuzzled into his pillow “I’ll catch up to you in a second, m’kay?”

“Sure.” You huffed out a little laugh, stretching on your way to the kitchen.

You opened up one cabinet, getting on your tiptoes to reach for a glass (seriously, what kind of monster puts the everyday glasses on such a high shelf? Richard, apparently), but your gaze soon fell down to his Superman mug, sitting lonely in the lowest part of his cabinet. You bit your lips as you filled the glass with water.

After you were done with your drink, you thought for a second, trying to ignore the sudden gut feeling that took over your body.

“It’s none of my business.” You whispered to yourself.

Still, your hands wandered back into the cabinet, opening it to stare at the mug once again.

“My friends can carry me.”

“Are your friends heroes too?”

You shake your head, trying to convince yourself that you were just seeing signs that didn’t exist because you wish they were there. Your hands wandered to the cutlery drawer, directly under the cabinet you were staring at, convincing yourself that you were simply snooping around, like every single one night stand does, not looking for evidence.

Slowly, you pulled it open, reaching inside and pulling out his spoons.

Three spoons.

“Hey, that’s fine. I mean, I have only one mug and three spoons at my place.”

Your breathing accelerated as you placed them on top of the balcony.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, hand covering your mouth.

“What was that, beautiful?” He asked, going into the kitchen with nothing but his underwear and a robe.

You were ready to say ‘nothing’ and forget all about this stupid theory. But his robe was open, giving you a full view of his stomach and the scar he had there. On the exact same spot you had given Nightwing sutures three months ago. And the moment you laid eyes on him, he could tell that you knew.

“You.” You growled out, angry.

“I can explain...” He started, putting his hands up.

“Three months. Three fucking months and you didn’t even say hi?” You said, walking towards him “And then you take me out on a date so that you can take me to bed then leave me again?” Neither of you said anything for a while, your heavy breathing plaguing the apartment “Was it your idea?”

“What?” He asks.

“Was it your idea. The date. Was it? Did you set this up too?” You took your hands up to press the sides of your head “Ugh, I’m such an idiot.”

“No! No, this was a coincidence, I swear.” He said, walking to you “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. I didn’t even want to go on the date, but when I saw it was you, I...”

“You realized I was an easy target? That you’d know just how to manipulate me? Know what to say so I’d put out on the first night?”

“No! No, God no.” He corrected, taking one of your hands “I couldn’t leave, because I missed you. I wanted to talk to you again.”

“Yeah, sure.” You spat the words out, not sure if they hurt you or him the most.

“You think I’m lying?” He asked, sounding heartbroken.

“If you missed me, why didn’t you go see me again?” You asked “Did you forget where I live after the concussion?”

“I- No. No, of course not.” He shook his head, sighting “I couldn’t go because Batman told me to stay away.”

“What?” You asked, skeptical “Why would Batman care about what you do, or who you see?”

“It’s complicated.” He said.

“I have time.”

“Listen, I can’t explain everything, but the point is, he was right, okay? I mess with dangerous people. If they see Nightwing getting attached to a civilian, what do you think they’d do to you?” His face was more sad than serious, and you tried your best to hold his eye contact “So after that night, I was convinced that I should let you go. That I shouldn’t keep putting such a nice person in harm's way. But trust me, it wasn’t an easy decision to make. I really liked you, my angel. So, when I had a chance to meet you as Dick Grayson instead, well... can you really blame me for taking it?”

You swallowed. He was close. Really close.

“No.” You whispered “But I feel a little... used.”

“I promise you, that’s not something that was on my mind, okay?” He said “I just... I really wanted to talk to you one more time. Of course, the moment we stepped into my apartment, I knew that there wasn’t much of a chance that this would last. I’d have to explain, eventually, and that would probably lead to you leaving.” He sighed “So I don’t blame you if you do.”

You bit your lower lip, arms crossed in front of you. He looked just like he did the first time you met him; like a battered, bruised, lonely man. And his bright blues eyes, staring at you, filled with sadness and fear, they would never let you leave. So you stepped a little closer.

“I’m not leaving.” You took a deep breath, stepping even closer to him “I’m willing to give this a shot.” You said “Whatever this is. But there are a couple of... rules, if you will, that I need to set.” He raised an eyebrow “First rule is; you can’t answer everything with ‘the less you know the better’, like they do in the movies. That won’t cut it for me.”

“Noted.” He smiled a little.

“And second... you have to let me help you.” You ran your hands down his chest as you spoke “You have to let me tend to your wounds when you come back from patrol. You have to come to me when you need to catch your breath. You have to let me help you, Dick Grayson. Or so help me God, I’ll find Batman myself and tell him you disobeyed his orders.”

“He’ll find out in a week or two anyways.” He shrugged, smiling playfully “Can’t really lie to the best detective in the world.” He placed his hands on your hips.

“Well, what can I threaten you with then?” You giggled.

“You can’t.” He giggled too “I won’t feel threatened by a civilian who insists on tending to my battle wounds.”

“You jerk, stop using my own lines against me.”

Hey! If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging? It helps with spreading my fics and my page, and it would make me super happy if you did it! Regardless, I hope you liked it and have a nice day! <3

Tag list: @bepo-is-sorry 

(if you want me to tag you in anything, just shoot me a message!)

[urslasherbaby]

How Fascinating Pt. 2 - Chromeskull x Reader

Guess whose favorite little piggy is back to piss Jesse off~

Jesse was sitting alone at his dark mahogany desk reviewing the same footage over and over again. The same footage he’d been looking at for over a month. The same footage that gave him a perfect look at the clever little piggy who’d managed to escape him. After you’d dropped the camera from getting pinned tot he wall, Jesse got a perfect view of him wringing that little neck of yours... that is until that shit-eating smirk spread across your face and you stabbed him with the syringe. He couldn’t even tell at this point if the whole scene made him turned on or furious. Either way, he was counting the minutes until his team tracked you down.

As if on cue, Spann came bursting through the door. She definitely knew better than that, so it had to be important.

“Sir, we found her,” she revealed. Jesse was already out of his seat, grabbing his phone on the way out the door. Spann tried in vain to keep up with his long stride down the hall.

“Sir, please--before you make your move, we have to consider the possibility that this might be a trap. The girl has somehow managed to evade our re-con team for a month now. Suddenly appearing like this out of nowhere could be dangerous!”

Jesse had ignored every word. He was already texting his driver to bring his car around. The rest of his team had a collective panic attack after the piggy-bitch left that little message just waiting for the cops to raid the place. But Jesse knew better: years of teasing and torturing these girls meant that he knew a call when he saw it. If you were really so “fascinated” with him, you weren’t gonna say shit until you two met face to face. 

And Jesse planned on making that happen real soon.

The drive wasn’t far out, only about two hours from the offices. Its destination was a small park, seemingly abandoned given how late it was and how hard it was raining. However, Jesse noticed a very familiar figure out in the darkness. He signaled his driver to leave, only driving around the block until they were needed again.

Walking closer, he felt himself getting excited to finally end all of this. His knife felt heavy inside of his coat pocket and his hands were just itching to wrap themselves around your throat again.

Finally, you noticed him coming and flashed him that audacious fucking smirk. Change of plans: first he’d fuck that smile right off your face, then he’d slice you into pieces.

“Hey there, killer,” you greeted cheerily, like you were saying hi to an old friend, “Or... should I call you Jesse?”

That surely made the man stop firmly in his tracks.

“Or Mr. Cromeans? I didn’t want to be rude. Oh, nevermind, it doesn’t really matter. After this is all over, I’m sure we’ll become much more acquainted.”

Jesse cocked his head in confusion before gathering himself again. He came here for a reason: the park was isolated, no one was around to here the piggy scream. Just as he began moving for his knife, you stood up and approached him.

“Still as stoic as ever, huh,” you say, closing the distance between you two and tugging on the lapels of his jacket, “Spare me a moment of your time, handsome?”

Jesse’s heavy breathing tried to calm him down but this was seriously testing his patience. But still... you’d held up your end of the bargain by not squealing. Five minutes... then he’d make a masterpiece out of your corpse.

“I’m assuming you not gunning for the knife I felt in your jacket is a sign for ‘yes’. Excellent! Now then, if we're going to do this right, you’ll need this,” you said, holding up a small silver phone and tossing it to him. Looking it over, it was clearly a burner you probably got at some gas station. Jesse was almost impressed at the effort you’d gone to hide yourself from him--and yet you were still so eager for his attention. His new favorite piggy was quite the little puzzle.

“My research on you told me you’re a big texter. Wouldn’t it be fun if we could finally just... talk,” you gushed. Jesse through the phone back to you with a new message already on it:

Get to the point, piggy.

The look on your face gave nothing away as you smiled and gazed straight into his eyes. 

“Of course. Well, as I said back at my house, I really do find you fascinating, and as satisfying as its been watching the police chase their tales, it just doesn’t compare to seeing the real thing in action. So... I’m here to make you an offer you can’t refuse. Something that will hopefully be beneficial for us both and that will more importantly put an end to our little one-sided rivalry.”

I get to slit your throat and run over the corpse?

“Cute. Nope, although you are close. The offer... is me.”

You?

“Me. I’m giving myself over to you completely to do as you wish. I don’t care if you treat me like a slave or fuck me like one--so long as I can see the action up close... I’ll be perfectly content.”

Oh? Well, that’s too bad, piggy since I don’t see you living that long.

Jesse then brandishes the giant knife from his coat pocket and levels it directly at your throat. You could feel its razor-sharp tip grazing your jugular.

And yet... all you did was smile at Jesse infuriatingly.

“Perhaps you didn’t understand me,” you said, putting a finger on the edge of the blade and pushing it slightly out of your way, “There’s no point in getting upset here. I’m surrendering! I’m giving myself up to you completely.”

You took several small steps towards the man as Jesse glared at you cautiously. Something about the steadiness of your voice, how sure you are that he won’t hurt you. It was confounding the effect you managed to have on him is so short a time. Soon you came chest to chest with him, looking up at his mask with the most sincerity Jesse had ever seen on you.

“You’ve taken hold of me, killer. I was your’s the second you came into my life,” you whispered, placing your hands on his chest once more, “So... what do you say?”

Of the myriad of thoughts running through Jesse’s head--the bloodlust, the weight of the knife in his hand... your sparkling eyes, the way your clothes clung to your skin in the rain--all he could really focus on was the way he felt that night: alive.

Of course, he got a rush every time he drove his knife into some squealing little piglet, but you... you challenged him. You awoke something in Jesse that absolutely aroused him. So maybe he found you a bit fascinating too...

His arm slowly lowered and put his knife away. The same hand gradually snaked up your waist, the nitrile gloves causing you to shiver, and wrapped around your throat. He pulled you nose to nose, just like that night so long ago. You could feel him start to squeeze ever so slightly, and just as you started to think you must’ve miscalculated... Jesse raises his free hand to show you a new message on the phone you gave him:

I’d say we a have a deal.

[whumptopia]

Superhero Interrogated

my hero academia oc whump commissioned by @everythingbaku

content warnings: torture, drugging, captivity, blood, very brief emeto mention

—

Waking is slow. Ren—bouncy, energetic, excitable Ren—is normally the first one up, rising with the sun while his husband grumbles about needing more sleep. Now, though, he feels sluggish and discombobulated, his eyelids impossibly heavy. Either he’s hungover from partying hard at a rager (unlikely, getting blackout drunk isn’t really his scene), or… something’s wrong with him.

Groaning, he cracks his eyes open. His vision is blurry, and the world is cast in black and white. Wincing, he turns his cheek away from the too-bright light, squinting at his surroundings. His tongue is dry, and he feels… off. It takes a moment for him to process the sensation, but when he does, his heart spikes.

He’s been drugged.

His awareness is quickly returning, and he realizes he’s not lying in his bed. No, he’s sitting in a chair, his wrists bound to the wooden arms, his ankles tied to the legs. His neck aches from his head being tipped back for however long he was out. When he lifts his head, the room spins and makes him woozy. He slams his eyes shut and takes several deep breaths until the feeling passes. When he no longer feels faint, he opens his eyes again to assess his situation.

Ren has been kidnapped. That much is obvious. He’s wearing his civilian clothes, so maybe whoever captured him doesn’t know he’s a hero. He’s a shapeshifter, so stealth is his trademark, but his inability to alter the color of his eyes (violet) and his hair (steel blue) sometimes makes him easy to detect. He’s been wearing colored contacts and a baseball cap to compensate, but… hopefully his cover hasn’t been blown.

He looks around the small concrete room, empty except for the chair he’s tied to and the led-lights shining overhead. He’s facing the door. It’s made out of heavy metal and doesn’t have a handle. The room he’s trapped in is more of a cell, really, and definitely not some amatuer goon’s basement.

“Shit,” Ren whispers to himself. He’s really gotten himself into trouble this time. 

He perks up at the sound of footsteps, much more alert now. Someone’s just outside the door—multiple people, if his hearing is right. There’s the sound of multiple bolts being unlatched, and then the door swings open.

Three large, burly men shuffle into the cell, all of them wearing masks, effectively concealing their identities. They’re decked out in protective gear, and Ren notes the weapons strapped to their belts. They must be professionals. Ren swallows. 

“Oh, good, you’re up,” one of them says, “Thought you might’ve overdosed. Hard to figure out how much to give you since you’re so tiny.”

Ren doesn’t validate the remark with a reply. Yeah, they’re not wrong. He’s not even five feet tall, and it sucks, but he can’t exactly help it, can he?

The cell is quiet for a minute or so. They seem to be waiting for him to speak, but he isn’t going to risk revealing anything incriminating. Finally, the goon who entered the room first, the tallest of them all, crosses his arms, taking a step toward him. 

“Nekozawa,” he says slowly, and Ren stiffens. So they do know who he is. He changed his surname to Bakugou after he got married, but he and Katsuki have kept their relationship under wraps to avoid public outcry. Nekozawa is his father’s name and the name everyone knows him by.

He blows a strand of long blue hair out of his eyes. So much for undercover.

“And who are you supposed to be?” he replies snippily, tugging on his wrists to test his restraints. No give. It doesn’t look like he’s gonna be escaping anytime soon.

“You know who we are.” The man moves closer, lifting one booted foot and planting it on the space between his legs—not on his crotch but on the seat of the chair. Close enough to be intimidating (and probably a shitty political statement), but Ren isn’t easily cowed.

Sure, he can be gentle, caring, and loving. He has a soft spot for sweets and pastel t-shirts. His husband sometimes likens him to a kitten, simultaneously teasing and flirting with him. All of these things are true, but he’s still a superhero. He’s a badass, and he’s going to make sure these guys know it.

“Can’t say I do.” He shrugs in disinterest. “I don’t think I’d want to know you, anyway. You guys apparently don’t know a thing about hospitality.”

The man’s lip curls in distaste. “You have infiltrated our organization and have been collecting intel for months. You know more than we can allow.”

“When you say ‘we,’ you mean your bosses, right? If they’re so concerned, why don’t they come talk to me themselves?” Ren suggests. He doubts he’ll get the chance to land his eyes on the higher-ups of the criminal organization he’s currently trying to take down, but he might as well give it a shot, right?

Before Ren can blink, the man’s fist collides with his face. His head is whipped to the side, and he sucks in a breath as his punched cheek throbs in pain.

“Our superiors don’t have time to deal with the likes of you,” the man hisses, kicking the chair back. Ren falls hard, knocking the base of his skull on the floor. Stars dance across his eyes, and he groans, his head pounding. Fuck.

He must lose track of time for a moment because the next time he can see properly, his chair has been picked back up and he’s facing the goons once more.

“What do you want?” Ren asks gruffly. He’s not going to give them anything, not in a million years, but it might do him some good to figure out their agenda. They’re all so… composed, despite their violence. They’re clearly used to dealing with prisoners. No tricking them into letting him go, then. 

“You’re going to tell us what you know,” the man who punched him demands, “and who you work for.”

Ren rolls his eyes, and the goon steps forward, fist clenched.

“I work for myself, thank you very much,” Ren quips, “Oh, and I’m not telling you shit.”

The hit comes, but he’s expecting it this time. Still, the blow to his already bruised cheek hurts twice as much as the first punch did. Stifling a noise of pain, he drops his chin to his chest. The coppery taste of blood quickly fills his mouth, and his tongue aches. He must’ve bit it.

A hand grabs a fistful of his long hair and yanks, forcing him to look up. The goon’s expression is unreadable, hidden behind his mask. “Will you cooperate or not?”

Ren grins, flashing his blood-stained teeth. “What do you think?”

The man lets go of his hair and steps away. Ren tips his head back, breathing heavily through his nose. He’s not as tough as he likes to pretend to be. Those closest to him know he’s a brave fighter who’s willing to die to protect his loved ones, and he has a public reputation as an advocate for civil rights. Still, he isn’t exactly eager to sacrifice himself or get hurt in any way. Living is pretty sweet—so is not being tortured, but it looks like it’s a little late for that now.

There’s an audible shuffle of heavy footsteps as the goons exit his cell, and the coor creaks as it swings shut. With a sigh of relief, Ren looks up—and he’s greeted by the sight of one lone man. Not everyone left the room, it seems. It’s the guy who didn’t speak earlier. He’s standing too close to Ren, his hands clasped behind his back.

Without a second of hesitation, Ren spits at him. The bloody projectile only makes it far enough to land on his shirt, unfortunately. Ren was aiming for his face. 

The man doesn’t flinch.

“Cute,” he drawls, not even glancing down to examine the stain. “But you don’t have to pretend anymore, Ren Nekozawa. It’s just you and me now.”

Ren arches an eyebrow. “What, are you supposed to be good cop or something?”

The man chuckles, a hint of smile curling his lips. “I’m not good cop.”

Unease washes over Ren like an uncomfortable sprinkle of rain, damp and chilling. He tries not to let it show. “Bad cop, then? You gonna hit me some more?”

The man looks up at the ceiling as if talking to himself. “My associate was simply the prelude. Most people break from just the threat of violence. We figured you’d be a little less forthcoming, so I tagged along. I guess you could say I’m the main course.”

Ren pulls on his bound arms reflexively, just a little, and laughs humorlessly. “You gonna tear off my fingernails?”

“Maybe,” the man muses, “but probably not. I doubt you’ll need that much coaxing. You’re not as defiant as you pretend to be.”

Insulted, Ren scowls. “You don’t know me.”

The man nods in concession and begins to circle him like a shark. Ren doesn’t follow his path of travel, simply continuing to glare straight ahead.

“It’s true we’ve never met, but I know people, and you’re easy to read.” He cards a hand through Ren’s hair and twirls a blue strand with his finger. “You’re compensating for your size and apparent vulnerability. It must be difficult, being such a weak hero.”

Ren twists his neck around, dislodging the man’s grip, and tries to bite at his fingers. His teeth clamp around empty air, but his attempt does get the man to back off. Much to his dismay, the guy doesn’t appear threatened in the slightest.

“You’re not even good at using your powers. You stick out like a sore thumb with your height, your hair, and those eyes,” he continues, standing directly in front of Ren now. He plucks a small, thin knife from his belt. “So vibrant. I could help you, y’know. Cut them out, and you’ll be much less identifiable.” He positions the point of the blade just above his pupil, so close that Ren doesn’t even dare to breathe.

“Then again, a boy with two missing eyes might be hard to miss.” With a flick of his wrist, the man cuts a shallow line right underneath his eye. Ren gasps, gritting his teeth. Blood streams down his cheek like a river of tears. 

“Fuck you,” he hisses, trying to maintain his bravado. His heart is jackrabbiting in his chest, and he’s gripping the arms of the chair with white knuckles. He won’t admit it, but he’s scared. He wishes Katsuki was here to protect him. So much for being a badass superhero.

The man hums, wiping the blood off the blade using the collar of Ren’s shirt. 

“There are two ways this can go,” he begins, retracting the knife and replacing it with a much larger one. Ren eyes the jagged blade warily. “You can drop the tough-guy façade and answer every question I ask you—”

“Fat fucking chance!” Ren interjects, snarling. The man raises one unimpressed brow. His mask only covers his eyes, leaving the rest of his face on display. Ren briefly wonders if his lack of concern for his identity is supposed to be an intimidation tactic. 

“Or,” the man continues, splaying one palm over Ren’s collarbones and pressing him flat against the chair’s back. With his other hand gripping the knife, he slashes down the front of Ren’s shirt, cutting open the fabric and the skin of his chest. Ren yelps. “I can make you talk.”

Panting, Ren looks down at the gash. Blood oozes from the wound, dripping down his sternum to his stomach. His insides churn at the sight. 

“So, Nekozawa,” he says amicably, as if he isn’t threatening to torture him, “What will it be?”

Ren squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. The work he’s been doing for the past couple months is important. The criminal organization he’s been spying on is guilty of abhorrent crimes and needs to be brought to justice. He thinks of the victims, past, present, and future. He thinks of his fellow heroes, all of whom are undoubtedly braver than him. He thinks of Katsuki, the love of his life. Katsuki would never surrender.

Ren opens his eyes and shoots his interrogator a defiant grin. “I’m not talking. You can try and make me, but it won’t work.”

The man smiles, as if that’s the answer he wanted to hear. “We’ll see, Nekozawa. We’ll see.”

—

Four hours later, Ren cracks.

It’s the knife in his shoulder that finally does it. The man digs the blade past muscle, all the way to bone, and twists. Ren screams, tears flowing freely.

“Who do you work for, Ren?” the interrogator asks for the upteenth time, calm as ever.

“I, I told you, I work a—” Ren begins, but then the knife twists again, and he shrieks: “Ah, Deku! Deku!”

The blade stills. 

“I work, I don’t, I don’t report to anybody,” Ren continues, unbearably ashamed of himself for the name drop. He held out for hours only to break now. “We sometimes work together. He’s not my boss or anything.”

“Not good enough, Nekozawa,” the man sighs, ripping the knife out of his shoulder. Ren yells, his expression contorted in anguish. Yanking the blade out hurt almost as much as the initial stab.

Groaning, he slumps in his chair. His entire body is covered in cuts, some shallow and some deep. His pale skin is coated in sticky blood, and he emptied his stomach a while ago. Drenched in sweat, exhausted and dehydrated, Ren is pushed past his limits. He never thought he would surrender even the tiniest bit of information, but here he is, giving in like a coward. Fresh tears leak from his eyes.

The man sheaths his blade and takes Ren’s chin in hand. “Does Deku know of your current operation?”

Ren exhales shakily and lies: “No.”

Deku is an incredibly powerful superhero. He went to school with Ren’s husband, Katsuki, and they were rivals for some time. Deku is too well known for undercover work and is much more suited for direct attacks. He’s taken out several outposts after Ren gave him names and locations. They’re not working together directly, but they both know of the danger said criminal organization poses. 

The man’s nails dig into his cheeks. “I don’t believe you.” He digs the thumb of his free hand into a deep gash in his side, and Ren’s mouth falls open in a wordless scream, his eyes rolling back. “Who else is involved?”

Blood dribbles out of the corner of his mouth from his bit tongue. “M’not… telling.”

The interrogator releases his chin and wraps his broad hand around his throat, squeezing tightly. Ren’s eyes fly open, and he struggles to breathe.

“I’ve been very patient,” the man begins, “And I appreciate what you’ve told me so far, but, frankly, it’s nothing I didn’t already know. Maybe I need to be more persuasive.”

Ren shakes his head a fraction of an inch, gaping like a fish out of water. He isn’t sure how much he can endure. He needs a break before he says something stupid. Black spots dance across his vision, and his lungs burn. Time passes impossibly long, and wet, sputtering gasps escape his lips. Eventually, just when he thinks he’s gonna pass out, the man releases his neck. Ren coughs, gulping down air, his vision blinded by tears. He feels so weak and pathetic. What kind of hero allows themselves to be caught and tortured? He doesn’t know how he’ll live with himself after this. If there even is an after. He doesn’t see any chance of escape, and what if no one rescues him?

Ren clenches his fists and steadies his breathing. He can’t lose hope. Katsuki will come for him. If not Katsuki, someone else. He won’t be left here to die. He just needs to hold out and keep his mouth shut.

The man returns to his side with a syringe in hand. He cocks his head and looks down at him with a faux-sympathetic smile. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Here, I’ve got something that’ll help you take your mind off it—and hopefully loosen your tongue.”

“No, no,” Ren protests, squirming in his bonds. He tries to crane his neck away from the needle, but the man grabs his hair and holds him still. Ren whimpers as the drugs are injected into his system, falling limp almost instantly. Whatever the interrogator has given him works fast, and the room begins to swirl. 

“Better, right?”The man pats his cheek, patronizing. “Now, about the data you collected. Mind sharing some names with me?”

Nausea washes over him in waves, and he squints against the lights. The cell is suddenly way too bright, and he moans. A fog settles over him, and he has a hard time remaining focused on his goal.

“What… what?” he mumbles.

The interrogator hums, frowning. “Might’ve given you too much there. It’s hard to determine the correct dose. I’m not used to administering to persons of such short stature.”

Ren isn’t listening, his attention shifting. He’s in so much pain. He just wants to be home with his husband, safe in bed, wrapped in his arms. What he wouldn’t give to see Katsuki’s face right now. 

The room rocks, and the interrogator stumbles. At first, Ren thinks it’s the drugs screwing with his vision and playing tricks on him, but then it happens again.

“Explosions…?” the man whispers, brows furrowed in confusion. 

Ren barks a laugh. Explosions! He’d recognize the sound anywhere. Katsuki is here!

He smiles at the interrogator, eyes bright. “You’re so fucked.”

[spiralesbian]

ALRIGHT

here’s my full Stranger Avatar Sasha Archivist timeline:

(also, thanks to @artbyblastweave for being so interested in my lil au!)

SEASON ONE

sasha james is hired as the head archivist of the magnus institute!

her assistants are jon, tim, and martin

tim takes the thematic role of martin (aka getting tormented by my worm wife jane, and stays in the archives)

sasha reads thru statements and is a skeptic! she really does not believe it’s real until jane comes along.

“tim……………………..did you die here?”

“no, but every time i come to work i die a little more inside.”

cute timsha moment in the supply closet tho.

until martin kool-aid-mans through the door and gets them out of there

jon used to work in artefact storage so he hides in there. he’ll be fine

i actually can’t remember how they all get out but they do it KKJSDGFJHD

sasha takes everyone’s statements. tim is fucked up, martin is also fucked up, jon is actually fine though he seems pretty normal about this whole situation most definitely.

sasha realizes this is a bit more than a regular archivist job.

SEASON TWO

sasha gets paranoid of course. she learns more about gertrude because she never got the chance to meet her

she takes a statement from a guy named michael shelley. weird dude. then helen shows up :)

jon is most definitely himself he is just a normal regular grumpy jon i swear :)

sasha starts to manifest her powers a little bit. she doesn’t know it, but she is an avatar of the stranger, and a prisoner of the eye.

she starts to notice more things about jon? similar to this comic but with jon

eventually she + tim + martin help get jon out of the grip of the NotJon. this is my au and i get to choose who dies (it’s no one because i miss the s1 archival assistants too much).

jon is pretty fucked up from this though and at like a season-3-tim mindset already.

fucking goddamn leitner avatar of the fucking whore shows up to trap the NotJon in one of his shitty fucking novels. fuck this guy tho

he’s like Sasha We Must Talk and shes like okay but stay 8 ft away from me at all times you bitch

she leaves the room for 10 minutes and pipe murder occurs. good riddance

wait are the cops in the season i genuinely can’t remember. if they are, their roles don’t change very much. melanie and sasha feud, battle of the bi queens

SEASON THREE:

uh oh! girlie’s be framed for murder! she crashes at her ex gf georgie’s flat. also the admiral is there don’t think i would EVER cut him out of this story

(also jon is georgie’s ex too because i think that would be fun JDHBFHS)

sasha learns abt an upcoming web ritual (mirroring the unknowing), all that shit. gets kidnapped a ton of times, as usual.

helen is like “i am going to kill you because i hate gertrude <3 i was that dumb bitch’s assistant for too long” but michael busts out of the door like Hi Guys and traps her in the hallway.

sasha also gives her statement about a leitner she found as a child that marked her. its a stranger book and we learn her edgy orphan origin story how her parents were both murked by the stranger. fucked up if true!

back at the archives jon is like so fucking tired of this shit honestly and now martin is also pretty paranoid. also jm romance subplot is still very present!

tim is just trying to protect sasha at all times and he’s pissed she keeps leaving the country and getting fucking kidnapped

(remember when jon persuades the traffic cop?) sasha starts to fill her archivist role in a different way. she can shapeshift into the subject of a statement and uses her affiliation with the eye to coerce statements or info out of people. (example: if she needed a live statement from the guy in #90 Body Builder, she could temporarily make herself look like jared hopworth to the guy and ask “what happened to me?” or “what did i do?” and the guy would be like well he built some fucken bodies i guess let me tell you all about it) while reading the statements in america that refuel her, she fully shapeshifts into the statement giver while reading out loud.

once again i truly can’t remember daisy + basira’s roles until the end of the season. also melanie get shot by the ghost at some point

anyways sasha gets kidnapped by trevor and julia and they gerry lays out all the shit for her and she’s like ah! i’m fucked

tim offhand mentions the web ritual to martin and he loses his shit cause he’s marked by the web blah blah this isn’t a web!martin thing i swear i just need someone to fill tim’s role in the ritual and a lonely ritual would be fucking boring as hell as we learned from ass man peter lukas. i hate that man

so they make the plan to stop the web ritual (which is fucking hard when the offense knows your every move) so sasha, basira, daisy, jon, and martin go.

tim stays back at the institute to burn shit and distract elias. elias does some fucked up shit as usual and it makes me sad

the ritual starts! they have a plan to blow it up and run but like. u know how it goes

instead of the unknowing-stranger-dream-sequence, we get everyone kinda mixed up in a huge spider’s web on the big stage and its still quite confusing because this ritual not only manipulates the prey, but also the prey’s perceived reality. the web is also in current control of the buried coffin cause they think that shit is kinda fun. they yeet daisy into it.

hard to describe what happens, but basira keeps her cool, jon is a bit lost in his own mind, sasha tries to use her powers to escape but fails. she manages to get through to martin through the strings and mounds of spiders and she tosses him the detonator.

[squishing spider noises]

SEASON FOUR:

martin doesn't die, i told you i can't kill the og archival assistants! he does lose most of one leg though, he took the blunt of the explosion.

sasha in da hospital in da coma. tim is mad he can’t wake her up and then my man ollie says “ur fucked up mate” and she wakes up

(and because coma jon has such wild hair controversy, i’m establishing that her head was shaved when she was in the coma. it grows back thru s4. it she keeps one side shaved cause she’s cool)

meanwhile tim is recruited by that dumbass man you know who i don’t even wanna say his stupid fucking name

sasha gets daisy out of the buried. they become avatar pals!

(there is the biggest blank in my memory where all of season four should be. at this point i should just relisten to the entire fucking show but i would literally just forget it all again)

melanie says hm. fuck this! and blinds herself. she goes to live with georgie (and that’s the moment jon and sasha realize they are both georgie’s exes FHFHDJD)

tim continues to fight the lonely pull. he thinks that since p*ter l*kas is tied to the institute, he can blind himself out cause melanie was successful. he is wrong. he is also interrupted by elias midway, and only blinds one eye, and loses most of his sight in the other. elias’s hold on him is weak, but this just drives him way farther into the lonely.

gotta be honest i remember the end of season four but like i couldn’t visualize what was happening at the end so i like don’t understand what happened JGDKFJGD but sasha intervenes (???) and peter yeets tim into the lonely (???) and sasha jumps in (??????) after him. elias is just there i guess?

instead of “look at me martin,” sasha finds tim and at this point her form is warped and hard to recognize because of stranger powers, and tim is almost 100% blind, so she says “don’t look at me, see me. see me tim, it’s me.” and finally creates a clear image of herself. “it’s...it’s you. you’re my sasha.”

they break free and go to scotland i guess KHSDDKDSF

idk what happens with jon and martin im losing continuity at this point. fuck it, they smooch <3

“ah these are the statements.”

“yes. basira said last week she’d send some up as soon as the archives weren’t a crime scene. and she wasn’t sure which ones you’ve read already, so she, she just said she’d send a bunch.”

“.........Hello Sasha.”

(alternate ending: personally i think sasha would read through each statement before speaking them aloud cause that’s what i would fucking do, so she would get this statement and be like “lmao tim come look at this elias trying to prank me dumb bitch think i’ll start the apocalypse for him. fucking little puny bitch boy. anyways what do you want for dinner?”)

SEASON FIVE:

“just. listen.”

“...i’m dead. and you have been chosen to be my replacement as head archivist. hopefully, this means you, jon, but if someone else is hearing this, and elias has made a different choice for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you.”

sasha in full stranger avatar mode and is like 8ft tall and her faces shift a lot as they go through the realms. except the stranger is the second to last one (the panopticon is last obviously).

helen and michael actually talk shit out in the spiral hallway and now they are mlm wlw solidarity and both like tim and sasha are such bi and trans icons <3 this is so fun don’t you love the fearpocalypse <3

oh daisy n basira trapped in the hunt, and jon and martin are trapped in the stranger. wtgfs + the admiral are like in space or some shit idk but they are ok :)

not much to report other than she is my monster wife <3

i really don’t have many theories to how everything in s5 is gonna pan out, and i would like to closely mirror the actual show, so maybe as we get closer to the end i’ll build more on to this! thanks a lot for all the notes on my first sarchivist post!! also if u wanna make art this specific au DEF tag me in it i’d love to see!!

[princess-of-the-corner]

So I totally forgot to drop the fifth part of the Thieves in Time Rewrite months ago. Whoops. 

I think it’s because I wasn’t super happy with it but fuck it. Let’s do this. 

Finally, onto the Thieves in Time Rewrite: Episode 5; It Ends at the Beginning. 

Like Episode 3, I’m replacing the Cooper that they end up with. If y’all have kept up with my old posts, you know what’s coming >:3c

So! Actual story!

The gang lands in this Time but don't know when they are just that they were following anomalies in Time. They start trying to figure out when they are.

Sly's first out of the van, and is looking at a house in a normal neighborhood. However, he immediately recognizes it. This also sends him into a straight up ptsd flashback and he just scrambles back into the van, curled up and hyperventilating. The rest of the gang is confused and trying to calm him down. Completely forgetting about the question of 'when are they', until Murray comments that Sly hasn't had an attack this bad since the early days of the orphanage. Which makes Bently put the pieces together like "oh shit!!"

Right then, they hear a knock on the van door and a voice asking "are you having some car trouble?"

Because sure it's the middle of the night but Conner Cooper is going to notice a van parked in his driveway and come to investigate. 

Conner also eavesdropped a bit before announcing his presence. So he heard them wondering 'when they are', and has already put together that Time Travel is involved, and they're probably not innocent road trippers. But he doesn't know if they're friend or foe. 

Until he looks in the van and sees Sly. Because everything about Sly screams "Cooper", from the outfit to the cane(that he is currently gripping like a lifeline).

However, Conner has yet to pinpoint how far in the future they're from or what triggered Sly's flashback. Still, realizing this is another Cooper and his Gang, he invites them inside. 

It takes a little while because Sly needs to calm down enough, but Conner is patient because he knows what ptsd is like. 

Oddly enough, the one that helps the most is Penelope. Not that the others don't help. But with Carmelita, Sly gets that guilt/shame 'I don't want you to see me like this' feeling. That's less with Bently and Murray since they've seen this before, but since he's known them for so long the flashback memories are melding and mixing in his panicked state, and it's hard to remember that he's here now and not that little kid in the orphanage waking up from a nightmare. 

Penelope, on the other hand, is a newer face that Sly isn't in any way intimate with. Seeing her helps ground him in remembering what's going on and helps pull him out of spiraling memories. 

Sly's panic goes up and down as they enter the house. Seeing the livingroom definitely hits hard. It looks so normal, but it overlaps with his memory of upturned and bloodsoaked furniture. And god he fully freezes as they pass the closet. It gets better once the group enters the dining room. 

At this point, Dahlia, Conner’s wife and Sly’s mom, has come downstairs as well. She was concerned at how long Conner was taking and was fully prepared to throwdown with whoever. Seeing the group though...

Dahlia knows something is up. She has seen enough stuff from her days running with Conner's crew to be used to it. And she's intrigued to see another Cooper. 

But yeah Sly's still in panic and Dahlia's mom instincts kick in and she starts making tea to help calm him. 

Once Sly's calm enough to talk again, they begin to explain why they're here. An enemy is using Time Travel to mess with Cooper history. The gang tracked an anomaly to this Time. They even start discussing the ancestors that they already met. 

Then Conner and Dahlia ask how far in the future they're from, and everyone hesitates, wondering how to break it to them. 

They're sidetracked by a new voice, sleepily asking what's going on. Everyone looks over to see a six-year-old!Sly standing in the doorway, having been woken up by the noise. 

Past!Sly realizes there are five new people and is super excited to meet them!! And asks a million questions! 

It's when Past!Sly gets to Future!Sly that things go a little heartbreaking. The conversation is like:

Past!Sly: "My name's Sly! Are you a Cooper? You look like a Cooper! You're a raccoon and you have the cane and everything! Are you a cousin or something?

Future!Sly: "Actually, I'm from the future! And my name's also Sly!"

Past!Sly: "Wow that's cool! Isn't it cool mom and dad?!"

Future!Sly: "Yeah, mom and dad. Isn't that cool?"

And yeah they don't even have to say it because as soon as both Slys were side-by-side with nearly identical grins… it clicked. 

It takes a little bit to put Past!Sly to bed. Then they go back to talking. 

However, Dahlia realized something. The way Sly had reacted to them, to this house. She knows something happens. And she asks. 

At first, the gang refuses to tell them. Because Timelines. But Conner and Dahlia say that while they're not going down without a fight, they're not going to change it. Just tell them how long. 

Of course once Sly starts confessing to that, pretty much most of the incident gets discussed. Including some things Carmelita and Penelope didn't know about because Sly hadn't felt up to sharing (like, they knew how his parents died but they didn't know Sly was there).

Sly mentions Clockwerk and we hints to things about Clockwerk. Even Conner doesn’t 100% know what’s up with Clockwerk’s hatred of Coopers, as that got lost over time. But he does know that Clockwerk is dangerous and isn’t surprised that’s how he gets killed. 

After that, it turns into recapping everything else in Sly's life. Like how he met the rest of the Gang and all their adventures. Not every detail, but some of the bigger jobs or more fun anecdotes. Or really stupid decisions. And the fact that Sly and Carmelita are planning a wedding and baby is already on the way.

Eventually they get around to what they're supposed to be doing here. Apparently, this is right before Conner pulled that job that Le Paradox's dad was arrested over. 

They assume that Le Paradox is teaming up with his own father and intending to turn the tables on what happened that night, solidifying their legacy and getting Conner arrested. 

Well two can play at that game! They have a whole team to take them on. 

For now they get some sleep because its like 3 am now.

The next day they meet two new people. Alice LaChance and her daughter Daphne, the Cooper's Rabbit neighbors. Sly is hit with nostalgia and a little guilt for kind of forgetting about them because of the trauma and being dumped in an orphanage but you know. Daphne is the same age as Past!Sly and was his best friend back then. Alice was mostly the babysitter when Conner and Dahlia were working, and isn't super involved in the heists, but does have a few tricks up her sleeves. 

The whole group plans and bonds together and goes through all the hoops casing the joint and getting past security and eventually Sly and Conner face off against LeParadox and his father. Obviously they win. 

But there are complications. The changes in the Timeline that LeParadox caused made the cops show up early. The place is surrounded and the usual escape routes are covered. Again, LeParadox wanted to make sure Conner couldn't slip away even if he failed the heist. But that's backfired now. 

They're panicking and trying to think of a plan when Carmelita spies the one leading the arrest. She just laughs at their luck before saying they have a plan. 

The Cooper gang all hide, with only Carmelita and the handcuffed LeParadoxes in plain view for Inspector Diego Fox.

Carmelita explains the truth. That she's his daughter from the future and was chasing a gang of criminals put together by LeParadox. 

But she also tells him that to preserve that future, he has to let the Coopers go. Even emphasizing that without the Coopers, the world would be even more fucked in the future. Also letting a "if you don't help this future exist then you're also erasing your future grandkid" slip in. 

Diego is, understandably, thrown for a loop. But after Carmelita proves she's really who she says she is, he does listen. 

The cop in him really doesn't want to let the Coopers go. But… much like Carmelita, he knows that the world isn't all black and white. If he has to let them go for the greater good, then, well, as far as anyone else will know, only LeParadox Sr. was involved in tonight's heist.

There's no cliffhanger damn it(Other than the potential hints about Clockwerk’s past that could be used for another game)! Everyone goes back to the Future, LeParadox is thrown in jail, much to the super confusion of Carmita's superiors.

The Gang gets back to smaller heists and busts, along with wedding planning and a baby. 

The last thing is an epilogue: Sly reconnecting with Alice and Daphne. 

Alice is still in that same house. Sly takes a quick visit to his old house too. It's abandoned now, and run down. Violent deaths of criminals don't help real estate sales.

Alice is shocked but happy to see Sly. One of the first things she does is apologize though. For not being able to help. Not with the fact that Conner and Dahlia were killed, because she couldn't have done much that night. But for what happened after. 

After that night, when she found out that Sly was spared, she tried to find him. But he was already lost in the system. 

Sly reassures her that it's okay. He knows she tried and honestly, after all the Timeline Shenanigans, he's really come to terms with the fact that despite the bad things in this Timeline, he wouldn't trade it for anything.

The epilogue ends with Alice telling Sly about Daphne and her wife, and Sly inviting all of them to the wedding.

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - SEDECIM

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

X OF CUPS IN REVERSE: shattered dream, broken family, bad relationships

Cosimia’s eyes fluttered opened once again. She was not looking up at the gray sky they had this morning but rather the ceiling in her trailer. She was in bed, surrounded by softness... Maybe it was just a nightmare, she thought to herself... but that’s exactly why she hung the dream catcher up so long ago... Nonetheless, she still found comfort on Donghyuck’s side of the bed. She could still smell his cologne in the sheet that made her heart swell for some reason.

It took her a few moments to open her eyes again as she was basking in the sheets. Her hands were the first thing she saw, they were clean. The images of her hands covered in blood and the knife flashed into place. She shook as she sat up, just looking at her hands in terror. She swear she could still feel it but she wasn’t sure if she had just imagined it or it was real... She felt like passing out at the thought.

It wasn’t long before a girl walked in after. Her name was Irene, one of eldest, kind of a nurse and also a dancer in the shows who was like an older sisters to most of the girls there. She was there to take care of Cosimia in the meantime.

“Oh my god, you’re up!” The eldest exclaimed. “Lay back down.”

Irene rushes out of the bedroom to get a glass of water and a wet towel for the girl. She came back and put the cup down on Cosimia’s night stand before she put the cool towel on the other’s forehead. She smiled, sweetly, before she sat down on the bed with her.

“What happened?” The young girl was quick to ask which seem to make the other girl’s expression drop.

“Well...” She started.

“Don’t sugarcoat it.” She sighed

“You fainted after you stabbed Ten... I only know that because Johnny always set up cameras! He had to turn it into the police though. And Ten’s okay, too, just in a bit of pain and out of the job now...”

“How about Haechan? And what about me? How am I not in custody?”

“Calm down, we don’t need your blood pressure going up! We’ve had enough people from here go to the hospital today! Haechan was stable according the last update I got on him and Cosimia, you were passed out... The police couldn’t question you even if they wanted. They’ll get a statement later but it was clear from the video it was self dense. He did have a gun point to your head.”

“I put it there, though.”

“It was still self dense in the end because he wasn’t backing away or anything.”

She let out a deep breath before laying back, rather relaxed compared to moments ago. She didn’t think it was out of self dense, she didn’t feel that way anyway. The more times she played what had happened over and over again it just felt like anger was building up... She wandered about Donghyuck... He was okay but how long ago was that? She just wanted to see him so badly.

”Irene, can you please take me to the hospital?” The young girl begged. “Please, I just want to see Haechan.”

“Oh, no, don’t cry! I hate seeing you cry!” She pouted. “I can’t! You need to rest and Johnny thought so too.”

Though, the young girl continued to cry. Not in the hopes of getting her way (even though she also wanted that) but because of what she had seen before the chaos had even started. The most recent memory of Donghyuck she had was one that was traumatizing to her despite not being physically there for it.

Irene just frowned, unsure of what to do as unneeded guilt washed over her. Luckily for her, Johnny did text her, telling her whenever Cosimia was up and ready to bring her down to hospital, that he needed to talk to her. The eldest was too relieved that an escape come so quickly she didn’t notice how odd it seemed. She was just too happy to pull the other out of bed and have the crying stop.

The girl seemed to get antsy the closer they got to the hopsital. In fact, when they had arrived and gotten on the elevator to take them up to the floor Donghyuck and Johnny were on, she was itching to get out. She felt like it was taking forever and every second she was just wasting. When the elevator dinged to signal the doors were going to open she raced out of there, leaving the older behind. She was more concerned with finding the room number that she searched frantically for.

And then she finally got to the hall of numbers in the 400’s, knowing he was in the room 444. Her seemed to speed up as she passed room 440 and right as she got to the number she had been waiting for, someone came out. It was Johnny, which ruined her hope of Donghyuck being awake in the first place. Her boss noticed her right away but she didn’t seem to care as she pushed past him.

She tiptoed to look in the small window of the door. She saw the boy on the bed, hooked up to multiple machines. He was so still and in all honesty, it made her want to start crying again. He was always so lively, to see him so still was unlike him and she hated it. At least he was still alive, that much she was thankful for...

“Cosimia! Have you even been listening to me?!” Johnny asked, finally capturing her attention. “I said we need to talk.”

“What?” She started to panic and it was obvious in her voice. “Is Haechan okay?!”

“Yes, he’s fine!” He sighed. “Lucky too... If he hadn’t been for that crystal he always wore he would probably be dead or at least worst. He’s in a coma right now, though and he’s going to wake up but the doctors don’t know when.”

“Then what do we need to talk about?”

“When were you going to tell me you both were pronounced dead months ago? Do you know how hard it was to get the cops off your trail?! Who the fuck is Peter Lee and Josphine Vasquez anyway?!”

She was left shocked by what her boss had said. She also knew it was only a matter of time before he found out but she hoped it wouldn’t be at a time as bad as this...

“I can explain.” She said.

“Well, go on!” Johnny commanded. “I’d love to hear it.”

“The summary of it?” She hesitated. “Haechan and I faked our death so our parents would think we were dead and not try to come after us. I got fake IDs for us so no one would suspect anything.”

“Oh my god, this isn’t some movie, Cosimia!” He gritted. “You have families that have mourned over you and wondered what they’ve done wrong for you to both end up ‘dead’ when you were with me the entire time! I can’t believe this.”

“Johnny, you don’t understand!” She whined. “We did it for a reason! And what about Jisung, Iaan, Olivia and Kai? What about them? They’re all our age and they’re with you.”

“You’re not ophrans like them and what was the reason? So you could have your little romance cliche?”

“We weren’t even into each other at that time! And he’s eighteen, he can do whatever he wants!”

“Fine, then you’re going to be going back by yourself.”

“You don’t understand! When are you going to get that?! I’m not leaving Haechan’s side either! And I’m not exaggerating when I say I rather die than go back! I will kill myself before I ever go through that again!”

The hall got quiet after the screaming match that had the small girl in tears. She shook so visibly as she cried into her hands. Her back had made it to the door of the room before she slid down it, only to sob on the floor. It made the boy feel so... guilty and bad. He might of scared her too which made him feel worse. He’d admit, he had somewhat of soft spot for the girl... She was like a little sister he never had, but he’d never admit that part.

“What don’t I understand?” He asked, softly, sitting down to her.

“Huh?” She cracked as she lifted her head up.

“What don’t I understand,” He repeated. “Maybe, if you told me, I would and I would let it stay too... I’ll figure out the police if I have to.”

“I wanted Haechan to be the first person I told...”

“I’m sorry... but if you want to have the possibility to stay, you’re going to have to tell me.”

“Can we at least go in the room?”

He nodded before helping the girl off the floor. He, then opened the door, allowing her to go first and soon following after her in the room. She seemed to rush over to the bed as he closed the door. He didn’t really expect much else as he come to sit in the chairs across from the bed. He watched as she brushed a few strands of the boy’s hair out of his face as it was getting long. Her smile as she did so was bitter sweet... He looked peaceful, too peaceful. She finally sat down next to Johnny but he couldn’t help but noticed the way she kept looking at the boy who lied in the bed so still.

“You know,” He started. “Doctors say sometimes people can hear people talk from inside their coma. So, maybe in a way, Haechan will be the first person you told, beside me, of course.”

She hummed with a nod.

“Are you ready, though?” He asked, just to be positive as it seemed pretty heavy.

“It doesn’t really matter if I am ready or not, in this case... I have to tell you or you’ll send me back...”

She had sudden realized in that moment, everything was cloudy and blurry in her mind. She couldn’t see what was to come like she usually was able too... She didn’t know what was next for her after telling Johnny or anything. Her gut told her that she’d be fine in the end. The one thing she did know was to always trust that feeling.

“I don’t know where to begin...” She confessed.

“Take your time.” He said.

She felt the overwhelming sense of being dirty, once she had felt to often beforehand that she could never truly shake. She squeezed her eyes shut and her throat felt like it was lined with wire as she tried to hold everything in. She found a past to start, intuitively. She felt like she was living the whole thing over again but this time it really dragged. She knew that’s how it felt at first and that’s how’d she would feel but god, it was the worse pain on top of what was already going on.

She was surprised to see the tall guy in front of her also tearing up a bit at the end of it. She guessed he really didn’t understand it... Not with the way she cared herself especially around him. She took his hand, letting him know it was okay... To which, he had gently brought her into a hug. He whispered something about not letting her back and that’s when she knew she was finally safe.

She really broke after that, gripping onto the boy’s sweater rather tightly as she wailed into the fabric. It only slightly muffled it but he could only imagine how long she had been holding that in. Of course she needed to scream and of course she was exhausted by the end of it. She tried to find air again after, but only found herself lightheaded.

It prompt the boy to get her water after because it was apparent she needed it. He only left when he saw her crawl into the space next to Donghyuck. Laying there, she noticed the silver was fading to platinum as the strands got longer. She sniffed to herself as she stared at him. She was hoping he’d wake up soon, so they could talk again. For now, she found some comfort in mumbling things, no matter how serious or ridiculous they were to him in his unconscious state.

She fell asleep like that next to him. Her arm draped across his bare waist, quite a ways away from the bullet wound covered in gauze. The doctors and nurses seemed quite broken by the scene once visiting hours were up. They didn’t want to separate them but Lucas and Jaemin had shown up to take her back to the trailer which now seemed like her permanent home.

She had woken up, in the car which a jacket draped of her. She recognized the scent was Lucas’ and could see him driving too. She was half awake so she just shut her eyes again but oh, how she wanted too sleep next to her friend so badly like every other night...