#anyway i just wanna be able to find love and not be paranoid about ruining a friendship

[jadeneppy]

Can my brain plz stop focusing on the past and let me be free

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 26.12.20 lb

lmao there’s regretting having sex with someone stupid and then there’s THIS guy; poore bed aur bandiii ko hi aag lagaane ki koshish karr raha hai.

I HATE THE WAY VANSH TALKS. I HAAAAAAAAAATE IT. IT’S FUCKING RIDICULOUS AND I HATE IT AND THEY NEED TO STOP MAKING RRAHUL TALK LIKE THISSSSSSSSSSS.

anyway long story short, bhai ne tandoor chaalu kar diya.

she’s so fucking stupid, she just stood there waiting for the fire to surround her instead of escaping out the side that wasn’t on fire yet.

this bitch and her stupid fucking dreams. i’m sick of them, i tell you, i’m fucking sick of them. you know what, half the time vansh isn’t even doing anything wrong (other than being a fucking antisocial weirdo, and also really bad at communication) and this stupid show just makes us root against him because of this dumbass chick’s forever paranoid thought process. sis you need to fucking go to therapy already. you’re just ruining your own life and relationship and this poor dude’s sanity as well.

the real villain of this show.

ghar mein ek aur surprise. man.............. enough with the surprises. don’t y’all have a surprising life on a daily basis, tum extra kyun add karte rehte ho???????????/

requisite shady call to angre, which i’m not even gonna pay attn to anymore. for all we know, he’s just asking him to make sure the audits for the year are done on time.

where they get so many fucking outfit changes from for this one “surprise” day???? like, he didn’t leave the hospital/her side since she got shot, and they’ve had 3 outfit changes already. and here i haven’t changed outta the same pair of jammies for 3 days now.

Bitch-oo Babe (ahana) is calling again. and vansh is making faces again.

riddhima’s like WHAT YOU WANNA TELL ME WHAT YOU WANNA TELL ME WHAT YOU WANNA TELL ME WHY WON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU WANNA TELL ME. behen tum ek minute chup rahogi toh woh kuch bolein???????

network issues. LORD. WHO EVEN CARES. ITNA BADHAAA CHADHAAAA KE THEY’RE GONNA MAKE THIS CHARACTER INTRO AND I’M TELLING YOU IT’S GONNA BE ANOTHER PHUSKI BOMB.

shady ruse where he takes her phone on the pretext of not being able to find his and mutes the call from ahana. dude, it’s shit like this that makes it hard to root for you.

she’s like thank goddddddddddd vansh read my letter and accepted me with my truth blah blah. idiot. this is why you send it by whatsapp. at least you get blue tick confirmation ki usne padha. even then you should have a conversation about it. not just have assumed the letter is the end of the whole fucking issue.

of course. literally who is surprised?

ouff this family is so fucking extra. ek din hospital mein rehkar aayi hai, SARHAD SE NAHI LAUTI WOH!?!??!!!!!

LMAO WHEN I SAY THESE THREE SIBS ARE FOREVER THE BIGGEST MOOD..........................

this dude so tall ki what flowers dadi is throwing on R’s head is just reaching his chest level.

blah blah blah party tonight, coz we apparently live in a universe with no ongoing pandemic.

Chehra Appreciation Break.

this dumbass’s need to be a SANSAAAR KA BIG BROTHER isko le doobega. when you threw out anupriya and your relation with her, then kaahe ka half brother??????? kuch bhi. you just wanna collect max number of people to call you bhai.

riddhima also acting too fucking smart and jhaado-fying rob of being vansh’s wife. stupid.

can’t blame kabir for wanting to murder these smug assholes. we’re #teamKabir again, girls!

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh i’ve seen this outfit before. 

yup.

some more being a bloody weirdo. man he’s like those emo kids who never grew outta their ~~~edgy~~~ phase.

also i would fucking crotch-kick a man if he destroyed a perfectly good hairtie like this. BITCH YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT’S TO FIND GOOD QUALITY ONES???????? JUST COZ YOU’RE RICH DOESN’T MEAN YOU DO SUCH NONSENSE. A GOOD HAIRTIE IS SOMETHING YOU KEEP FOREVER AND ONLY HAND OVER TO A TREASURED SISTER WHO IS IN DIRE NEED OF ONE.

small cute moment. i love when riddhima mimics him!

oh boy, a internal monologue about teaching her a sabak at the party tho. oh vansh. why you gotta be like this???????/ 

vansh taking angre aside at the party and saying whoever’s trying to talk to riddhima is sure to show up here, so.......... taiyyaar rehna.

angre like “don’t worry, riddhima bhaabi ke paas koi anjaan nahi pohunch paayega.” ok but she’s always at threat of being murdered from the people she knows tho. so....................... idk how useful your security is gonna be.

as usual he’s saying nice but creepy shit. idk why she pays attn to his nonsense anymore.

Y’ALL NEED A RESIDENT ELECTRICIAN TO HANDLE ALL THESE RANDOM LIVEWIRES AROUND HERE, THAN ANY OTHER KINDA SUPPORT STAFF. THE FUCK IS THIS NONSENSE???????? (also, clearly vansh and kabir visit the same Torture&KillRiddhima reddit forum, since their plans are soooooooo similar.)

i’m so sick of him being like...............

pick a side and stick to it, you fucking coward.

anyway ahana’s making her way into the house. and security as usual, useless.

idhar useless tashan. why do you two even bother to talk to each other???? be like other exes, pretend the other one died and ignore everything about their presence.

riddhima being real overconfident and saying vansh ke hote hue not even deathhhhhh can touch me. yeah, i wouldn’t be so sure.

this sis really likes her stinging animal friends.

akjlakjfldskjfldskjflsdkjfl this dresssssss itselfffff they gave herrrrrrrrrrrrrr. haaaye bechaari mansiiiiiii. (i mean, i don’t feel TOO bad, coz this was the best dress of them all in that ep. of IB, but still yaaar. ek naya dress banwaa dete!)

dude. i ship it????? if riddhima HAS to be with some murderous psychopath, then i definitely pick a girl one over a boy one. girl psychos are just soooooooooo much fucking hotter. #teamRiHana

[punkscowardschampions]

Jude & Ali

Jude: Hey

Jude: can I stay at yours tonight? I need a sec to think

Jude: I don’t know how I’m gonna tell mum & dad or anyone how badly I’ve fucked up

Ali: Of course you can

Ali: but should I expect 🚓/🚑/🚒 to follow closely behind?

Ali: not sure which ranks highest on the bad scale so give me a clue

Jude: it’s not like that, I’d take it over how it is but

Ali: Ah, that kind of fuck up

Ali: You can go to mine now, I’m not in yet but you have your key and god knows how many cats will keep you company whilst you think

Jude: bus ride’s 👍 for it & they’ve probably seen worse

Jude: you can’t really see owt yet to look at me & maybe there won’t be anything to see anyway

Jude: might be it’s a mistake, I did or read it wrong idk

Ali: Oh bus drivers are the masters of seeing and not saying a thing

Ali: Opposite of taxi drivers in that regard, which if you’re after quiet contemplation is welcomed

Ali: If you need a listening ear however

Ali: How many periods have you missed, love?

Jude: 2 but that don't have to mean

Jude: it can mean loads of things & tests can be wrong, right? I only did the one

Ali: False positives are rare but not totally impossible

Ali: You’re not on any medication that could interfere, UTIs, kidney or ovary issues can but again you’d know beforehand

Ali: Chemical and ectopic pregnancies, maybe

Ali: That leaves user error, sometimes when the urine evaporates it leaves a very faint line that can be confused for a positive on a test that shows 2 lines, was that the kind you did? The timing is important but it’s more likely you’d get no result or negative, as you know

Jude: NOT comforting rn nan!

Ali: No, probably not

Ali: I don’t think that kind of lie is comforting for very long if at all either but we can sit in it whilst it is

Jude: it's already not when I know you're right & that means so's this test

Ali: I’m sorry about that

Ali: what would be comforting right now then?

Jude: just tell me what to do

Ali: In the long run or in telling your mum and dad?

Jude: obviously you can't tell me what to do in the long run

Jude: I can't even think that far ahead when this doesn't feel real

Ali: it’s too big for you to get in, what, an hour, less

Ali: it won’t feel real for a while yet, that’s alright

Ali: You can keep this to yourself for as long as you need, I won’t tell anyone, or bring it up again if you don’t want to talk about it after this

Ali: There’s no way telling won’t be scary, and really hard

Ali: but it shows that you care, about them and what they think, the fact you are scared

Ali: and you know they love you

Ali: even if it’s as disorientating for them as it is for you right now, or even a fraction of that, they will come around to supporting you and being there for you

Jude: I can't avoid mum forever & I'd have to for her not to work it out

Jude: she's always sussed any secret I've tried to keep

Jude: it's scary that this happened to me when I'm so careful

Jude: Toby takes the piss about how paranoid I am

Jude: God, how am I gonna tell him?

Ali: It’s unfair

Ali: and rarely talked about how not foolproof contraceptive is, whatever the method

Ali: That’s at least easier, he knows what you’ve been up to

Ali: though I’m sure he’ll feel as baffled and duped as you do

Jude: we're not like Jac & Sav, he's gonna hate me for this

Ali: It’s a very new relationship

Ali: but if he doesn’t want to be with you, do you think he’ll at least support you, in whatever you choose?

Jude: Yeah

Jude: but he can't support me that much, I need mum & dad

Ali: Of course you do

Ali: and you can tell them, whenever you’re ready

Ali: there’s no words but the facts, that’s all you can say

Jude: idk how I'll get my head round this

Jude: I'm not ever gonna be ready to tell them I ruined everything like this

Jude: it's exactly what I said to Jac I wouldn't let happen

Ali: You can’t control these things to that degree

Ali: it was an accident, right?

Ali: nothing needs to be ruined, everything is salvageable

Jude: that's not gonna calm anyone down though

Ali: No

Ali: do you want the truth on how likely a calm response will be?

Ali: their immediate response, anyway, that’s hard

Jude: maybe I'll just get rid of the baby without telling them, Toby won't say anything & you could go with me

Ali: We could do that

Jude: I'll 🗨️ to him but then

Ali: Good idea, once you’ve done that, get back to me

Jude: Don’t worry, I know all about the different types & when they do it, I won’t leave it too long before I speak to him

Ali: Good stuff

Ali: The pills are considered preferable, I’ve been told

Jude: I wanna do it in person but even if I talk myself out of seeing him a few times before I go ahead with it we’ll still have time to get them & do it at yours

Ali: Of course, as long as you’re aware of how long you have, then you can take the time you do have to do it as well as you can, with the minimum amount of stress instead of the absolute max that comes with the blind panic

Jude: Thanks nan

Ali: No need to thank me

Jude: there is, for not having a go like everyone else would’ve if I’d told them

Ali: It seems you already feel bad enough

Ali: and it’s not my place to judge, not to mention I can’t see it would do any good, or not as much good as, hopefully,

helping you will

Jude: I’m not sure if I feel enough of anything but I just found out, I guess

Ali: Shock’s pretty standard, it’ll come

Jude: when?

Ali: that isn’t on the clock

Ali: the more you think on it

Jude: rude, I’d like to still be in shock when I have to talk about this again, if I had any say, like

Ali: good luck 😏

Jude: no stretch to say I've got 0 rn

Ali: You’ll be okay

Jude: will I?

Ali: Yes

Ali: I promise

Ali: Whatever you do and whatever happens, you’ll get through it

Jude: is crying on a bus stage 1 of getting through it or am I fucking this up already?

Ali: If you aren’t crying on a bus at least once in your life you aren’t really living

Ali: but seriously, that’s very much the normal response

Jude: good timing to have really lived before my life's over

Ali: Your life isn’t over

Jude: it might as well be cos it's not gonna go back to normal

Jude: whatever I do

Ali: you feel like that now, you won’t always

Jude: idk nan, that sounds super fake

Ali: I obviously did it one way, but I know people who did it the other

Ali: we’re all alright, pretty much

Jude: okay I'll choose to believe you're not just saying it to make me feel better

Ali: Obviously I would, that’s my job

Ali: but I also mean it so do believe me

Ali: is there anything you need that you won’t be able to find at mine?

Jude: what like the bravery to 🗨️ to my boyfriend & parents or?

Ali: I’m sure I’ve got some alcohol lying about

Ali: but not my recommendation so 🤫 on that or your mum will be really mad at me

Jude: I can't drink

Jude: that's literally the 1st thing they tell you not to

after 🚭

Ali: I was kidding, sweetheart

Ali: poorly timed, perhaps

Jude: YOU might be but I'm not NOT considering it as a 💡

Jude: I'm in the worst trouble so

Ali: you wouldn’t be the first

Jude: I don't mean that it's just

Jude: Toby's got the 1 track mind, why isn't he crying on a bus & having to break the news to me?

Jude: I don't wanna have to do this

Ali: You can’t worry about ruining his peace

Ali: of course you don’t wanna have to do this, but you still

have to, you got into it together, the minimal is getting out of it together too

Jude: I know

Ali: If he’s worth his salt, he’ll give you that and not too much grief, you can share in it

Jude: He is

Ali: Glad to hear it 😌

Jude: can I bring him over when I wanna do it? I don't know where else we'd hang out that I can even hear myself speak

Ali: Yeah, ‘course

Ali: I can make myself as scarce or present as you need/want

Ali: it might be… not nice but what you want, to just be you two, once you’ve got to grips of how it will feel and what will happen, which we can work out beforehand

Jude: you're not gonna be there?

Ali: It’s up to you

Ali: I just need you to tell your parents first if you can

Ali: I don’t think it’d be great for me to go behind their back, as it were

Ali: If you really can’t, I could talk to them for you, but it’ll be best coming from you

Jude: you're right, it's my mess

Jude: I'll do it

Ali: I’ll be on the phone if you need backup

Ali: again, I won’t just turn up with you straight away, but you know I will come if you need if it’s not going well

Jude: it's not gonna go well, but I can't blame them, it's not great news

Ali: yeah

Ali: but you know, worse than you can handle

Jude: Yeah

Ali: you’re doing great so far

Jude: very funny

Ali: I can do better than that if I’m trying, come on

Ali: you are, there’s no better you can do really, given the situation

Jude: I've not done anything but a test & that didn't even go the way I wanted

Jude: nobody is gonna give me a 🏆

Ali: no

Ali: but you can give yourself the 🤏 bit of a break, there’s not anything you can do on that bus right now, so take that time

Jude: but what I said about wanting a sec to think was total bollocks, I don’t, what’s gonna happen next is too scary to think about

Ali: it’s just because it’s unknown, it’ll be a lot less scary when you understand what’s going to happen

Jude: I can’t do it

Jude: it shouldn’t be me making this massive decision

Ali: you can, and you will

Jude: you’ve forgotten how long it took me to pick between school subjects & I’m only really bothered about one of them

Ali: I didn’t say it’d be easy

Ali: you’ll either do it or the 🕑 will decide for you

Jude: how long did it take you?

Ali: Honestly?

Ali: I just did it, I can’t say I gave it much thought

Ali: I just knew

Ali: but I didn’t think about anyone else, honestly, and I’m not going to say that’s right

Jude: I can’t stop thinking about mum & dad

Ali: That’s a good thing

Jude: but then how am I gonna know I’m doing what I want instead of just what I know they want?

Ali: Those two things might look or be the same, if they’re that intertwined

Ali: but when it comes down to it, if you don’t want to do something, you won’t be able to do it

Ali: no one is forcing you, that’s the important thing, even if your parents and other people have ideas, no one will be insisting you do anything, so what you do, will be something you can live with

Jude: you’ve made it sound way simpler than it is but okay

Ali: I don’t fancy making things sound or feel any more complicated for you

Ali: it’s a big decision, one of the biggest, I know

Jude: he’ll help me make it though, like you said & then I’ll talk to mum & dad

Jude: it’s a plan

Ali: It is

Jude: what do you reckon I should do?

Ali: I can’t tell you what to do, what would be best for you, only you can work that out

Jude: yeah but you must have an opinion still

Ali: I don’t think it’s helpful to give it though

Jude: I care what you think, it’s obviously gonna be helpful to hear

Jude: especially cos you have experience of this exact thing

Ali: It’s just, I’m trying to say whatever anyone thinks won’t matter, truly, when it comes down to it

Ali: so all it’d do would be placing expectation or needless guilt

Ali: you’ll do what you have to do and I’ll be there regardless, and I’m happy about that, whatever you end up doing, okay

Ali: that’s all that matters

Jude: okay, okay, don’t tell me

Jude: I love you too

[lihikainanea]

(Le babie) the big sad: bill punishing tiger for something, but she either 1) didn't actually do anything to deserve a punishment yet bill thinks she did, or 2) really doesn't wanna be punished and can't mentally handle it so she cries or hides from him :(

Oh my god. Oh dear, god I feel like I just got junk punched.

Come with me, friends, down this road of agony. Hold my hand. It’s dark in here and I’m scared.

WHY didn’t she safe word? What did she do to merit punishment? Okay, okay okay okay hang on. Let’s wrap our heads around this. I have so many feelings because on the one hand, I don’t know what tiger would do that had her thinking she didn’t deserve punishment but that made Bill think she did (open to ideas, friends.) On the other hand, let’s say she like...broke or ruined something of Bill’s that he loved. I don’t think he would ever punish her for a genuine accident, which means that she would have been taunting him before but I also don’t think she would taunt him with something that meant a lot to him, you know? She would never be so careless.

Maybe....maybe tiger is wearing one of Bill’s favourite shirts. And she’s doing it because she’s all soff for him, and tiger basically has a free pass to anything in his wardrobe but this...this is really his favourite shirt. And he doesn’t get antsy when she wears it, but she’s being kind of a pain in the ass today. And maybe they’re in the kitchen cooking, and Bill is just kind of eyeing the shirt because tiger is clumsy in any situation, but in the kitchen as they cook something messy, Bill is doubly as hesitant. But tiger is in a sassy little mood.

“Tiger, be careful would you?” Bill warns as she opens a can of crushed tomatoes, pours them into a pan as they splatter. Tiger just rolls her eyes.

“I’m being careful, Bill,” she huffs and grabs a wooden spoon, stirs the pan.

“It’s just my favourite shirt, that’s all,” he mumbles.

“So if I ruin it I’ll owe you what, $5,000? or is this one of your $8,000 ones?” she sasses. Bill glares at her, but he doesn’t let her get away with that. Grabbing her elbow, he yanks her to him and flicks her nose.

“Watch it, kid,” he warns. She huffs again, and it earns her another flick on the nose.

“I thought you liked it when I wore your shirts,” she challenges him.

“I do like it when you wear my shirts. But I’m asking you to be careful,” he says again, and when she looks like she might roll her eyes, he grabs onto her chin roughly.

“And I said I’ll be careful,” she retorts. He doesn’t like her tone, but he lets her go anyway and she grabs the bottle of red wine.

“I’m an adult, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she says, “And I’m pretty capable of oh, I don’t know....not spilling things everywhere.”

He doesn’t even glance up, but she pours a hefty glass and takes a swig.

“Or maybe I’m not?” she says and his eyes flick up, just in time to see her purposely tilts the glass in front of her chest so that the wine comes dangerously close to the edge.

“Oops! I forgot how to adult,” she says sarcastically.

“Tiger.”

“Whoops!” she tilts the glass again towards her chest and swings it up at the last second, “Forgot there again.”

He puts his knife down and advances on her, but she takes a step back.

“Relax, sergeant. If you’re so paranoid, I’ll just take it off,” she puts the wine glass down on the counter, raises the shirt over her head. And then almost in slow motion, Bill stares in horror--the shirt is pulled over her head but her hands knock the glass on the way down, spilling burgundy red liquid all over his shirt as she still has her forearms in it. Tiger’s eyes go wide at the exact moment that Bill’s narrow, and his jaw clenches as he stares at her.

Her mouth drops open and she squeaks, but then in the blink of an eye, she’s gone. Running down the hall.

Bill takes a second, clenches his fists, takes a deep breath in.

“Tiger!” he bellows a second later and goes running after her. He checks the spare room, throws the closet door open, checks under the bed. Whips the curtains back. When he doesn’t find her he charges down the hall and into the bedroom, does the same thing. Just as he’s kneeling to check in the closet for her he hears footsteps running and hears a door slam, so he shoots up.

“I swear to god kid,” he threatens, “The more you hide the worse it’ll be.”

And he’s mad, he’s madder than hell because accidents happen but this happened because she was being a brat and not doing something simple that he asked. But the more she hides, the more he chases and can’t find her, the more his resistance kink is dialled to a million. She won’t be able to sit for a week, and that’s if she’s lucky.

Tiger is huddled in on herself in the hallway cupboard, and listen man--she feels awful. It’s why she ran. She’s beating herself up, berating herself, already in tears--because she knows better. And she should have just been careful, shouldn’t have taunted him like that. But she did, and she fucked up, and now his favourite shirt is ruined and she feels just so...bad. Bad in the context of their dynamic. She’s always so good for him, and this time she not only upset him, but she ruined one of his favourite things and tiger just....tiger thinks it’s done man. He won’t want her anymore. She’s too bad. And she’s spiralling and maybe--YES THAT’S IT--maybe she doesn’t safe word because she is incredibly aware of the fact that she deserves punishment.

She deserves all the bad things. Punishment. She deserves to not have him anymore. She deserves to be ignored by him, refused affection. And tiger is a martyr, so she’s not even thinking about using her safe word here--even though she is in not the right frame of mind at ALL to be punished--she’s done. With herself. Because how could she be so stupid? But there’s also like...man, there’s still an ounce of self-preservation in her. She knows she deserves the punishment, but at the same time--she can’t handle it. Can’t handle him putting his hands on her so roughly right now, even if she knows she deserves it. She can’t handle the roughness, can’t handle his anger (even though punishment is never about anger--in her headspace at that moment, she thinks it is), can’t handle the physicality and the pain of it.

She’s a mess.

But it’s why she also eventually stops switching her hiding place, and she doesn’t realize how loud her cries are but that’s how Bill finds her--just by the sound of her sobs. He’s still mad so he whips open the closet door and she flinches, curls up even more around herself, tries to push back further into the corner of the closet. And one look at her, and Bill knows something is pretty wrong.

“Tiger,” he murmurs lowly, lowers down and kneels in front of her, “Come here, sweetheart.”

But she shakes her head frantically, sobs choking her throat.

“No, no no no no no no no no,” she mutters over and over again.

Bill’s heart breaks, and his first instinct is to try and touch her to calm her down. So he reaches a hand out to her but she panics, lets go a horrible cry that Bill doesn’t ever want to hear again, and frantically pushes off her feet to try and get more into the corner of the closet and away from him. His eyes go wide, and he pulls his hand back.

“Pineapple,” he says, he tries to keep his tone gentle but he has to say it loud enough for her to hear. She stops her panicked movements, stops trying to get away from him.

“Tiger, pineapple,” he says again, “I’m not going to punish you.”

She’s not trying to claw her way away from him anymore, but she’s still sobbing and won’t look at him.

“Can you hear me, kid?” he asks, “I’m not going to punish you. Come on out.”

But tiger’s mind is just fucked, and she thinks maybe he’s trying to trick her. Get her out so he can grab her and then punish her.

“You’re lying,” she cries, “You’re going to hurt me.”

Bill rests on his knees, makes himself as small as he can so she’s not threatened by his size.

“Pineapple. Tiger, I would never do that,” he murmurs to her, “I’m not going to punish you. I promise, I’m not going to punish you.”

He keeps saying it because he needs to get through to her. Needs to be louder than those thoughts spiralling around her.

“Can I come closer?” he asks, but she shakes her head and starts backing up again.

“Okay, okay, easy kid,” he says. He slowly brings his legs around him, sits cross legged in front of her.

“I won’t come closer. But I’m going to stay right here,” he says, “Until you tell me that it’s okay.”

He lets it fall silent for a few minutes, testing to see if she’ll say anything, but she’s still just crying.

“Tiger,” he tries again a few minutes later, “I’m angry with you. But I’m not going to punish you, kid. I promise. Please, come out so I can hold you. That’s it, okay? I just want to hold you.”

And y’know, he tells her he’s angry with her because it’s the truth. And if he had said he wasn’t angry, then that would be a lie, tiger would know it was a lie, and she would think he was lying about not punishing her, too.

It takes her a long ass time. it starts first with the mumbled apologies, sad and interrupted by gasping breaths and hiccups, but Bill stays more still than a statue. Doesn’t move. Just keeps telling her gently that he knows she’s sorry, and that it’s okay. It’s followed by a few minutes of silence, but her cries are quieting down a bit. They’re still pretty intense, but now they’re a lot more sad than they are panicked.

“Bill...” she cries, kind of starts to crawl out a bit, and Bill ducks his eyes to see if she’ll meet his gaze. She doesn’t.

“I’m right here, sweet girl,” he says, “I’m not going to punish you.”

She sniffles, drags herself on all fours and starts to make her way out.

“Sit on your hands,” she says to him. His brow knits in confusion.

“What?”

“Sit on your hands, please,” she says again, and he does. Shifting his legs, he tucks his hands under his butt and waits for her next move.

“You promise you won’t grab me?” she asks. He sighs gently.

“Tiger, I promise you,” he says, still trying to catch her eyes, “I won’t grab you.”

“Swear on Granny’s head?”

“I swear on Granny’s head,” he says.

Slowly, so slowly, she starts to crawl out and over to him. Her face is red and tear-stained, her bottom lip is still quivering, but she eventually makes it to him and very hesitantly crawls into his lap, curling up to his chest. He nudges her with his nose, burying it deep wherever he can, kissing her wherever he can reach.

“Please, kid,” he murmurs, “Please can I put my arms around you?”

He feels her nod into his chest but it’s not good enough, because he needs to be sure.

“Say it, sweet girl,” he says, “Tell me it’s okay.”

“Yes,” she mumbles, and he moves as slowly as he can but he’s too impatient so it’s not as slow as he would like. But he wraps her up in his arms, crushes her to him, probably even shifts a bit to get her lying down with him on top of her, because she’ll feel safer that way. And he needs to know what happened--needs to know why her mind got away on her, needs to know why she didn’t use her safe word, needs to know all of it so that next time, he can help her faster. But now is not the time for that.

And it’s just such a hard hitter, you know, because a few days later tiger is going to need the punishment so that she can feel corrected, feel worthy of his correction, but she’s probably not going to ask him for it because she doesn’t think she deserves it, and Bill is certainly not going to just offer it up because he still thinks she’s in no state of mind to be punished.

But also, I really, really want to explore the other angle here, I just need some ideas for it. Because I think Bill knows tiger really well, I think he reads her really well, but I don’t think he’s perfect. And I think sometimes he gets it wrong--which is normal, because if she’s not saying anything, he can’t be expected to always get it right. That’s not fair. But what if one time she’s really not in the right mind to be punished but Bill doesn’t realize and tiger doesn’t say anything, so he punishes her anyway? Ohhhh my..

[cherryrogers]

You’re Lying.

Loki x Fem!Reader

Contains: Angst, implied smut, some fluff.

Synopsis: Since everyone found out about Loki and you being somewhat together, things just hadn’t been the same.

(requested)

Inspired by the song ‘False God’ by Taylor Swift.

__________________________________________

The sound of rain hitting the windows like bullets stopped you from slipping into a deep sleep. Once you snapped back into reality, you realised you were still on the living room couch, and the television was the only thing lighting up the dark room.

You promised yourself you were going to stay up this time. All night if you had to. You were finally going to confront Loki, whether you were up to the idea or not.

Loki and you had always been a bit rocky. Your relationship, if you could even call it one, had been a secret for the most part. Sneaking around with the God of Michief, who had been locked up in the tower for trying to overrule Earth and destroying a good amount of New York City, wasn’t something you thought anyone would be happy with. It wasn’t anything official, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was yours.

And it was fun. Exciting. Chaotic, even. Never being seen together, but secretly spending every night in your room, making love and sleeping soundly next to each other after. It saddened you that he’d be gone when you woke up, as he had to be checked on every morning by a psychiatrist, but the anticipation of seeing him again throughout the day made it worth it. You’d suddenly get dragged into bathrooms for quick makeout sessions, find random notes around the tower addressed to you, and thanking God that nobody found them before you did. It was perfect, and you loved it. Hell, you loved him. You loved Loki Laufeyson. Of course, you weren’t going to tell him that, but it was completely true.

If you told him and he didn’t feel the same way, what would you do? You couldn’t ruin everything you had together. The feeling you had with him was different than anything you’d ever experienced, and if you lost that, you’d have no idea what to do with yourself.

However, maybe it didn’t really matter. Maybe you wouldn’t get a chance to tell him you loved him, because that was before.

Before everyone found out.

Clint had caught you making out in the bathroom closest to his room, and before you could tell him to keep it quiet, he’d already blabbed it to everyone else living in the building. You couldn’t blame him. It was Loki, the guy who killed eighty people in two days, and you, who couldn’t hurt a fly, together. It was bound to get around, but you didn’t realise how much it would affect Loki, and you for that matter. It made you wonder if what you and Loki had was better kept a secret.

Once everyone found out, you started hanging out with Loki in front of people. At first, all was well. However, the group of superheores you lived with seemed to have a different opinion on your ‘thing’ with Loki. Sometimes, you’d catch Steve looking at you weirdly, or Natasha would spare a concerned glance when she walked past you and him. Even Thor would have the nerve to smile apologetically at the sight of you two.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, the judgemental looks soon turned into discomforting comments.

“That’s a pretty dangerous game you’re playing, (Y/N).”

“I don’t think he’s good for you, (Y/N).”

“I know we’re speaking of my younger brother here, (Y/N), but I’m not sure he’s the right fit for you.”

You couldn’t remember the last conversation you had that didn’t involve being questioned about your relationship with Loki. It was getting to you, and Loki could tell. You still loved him, of course you did, but with the amount of concern you were getting from everyone around you, it was hard not to question your relationship with him yourself.

He saw how you shied away from his touch when someone walked into the room, and how you awkwardly reacted to someone making a comment on the both of you. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t want to hurt him whatsoever, but a certain tension arose in the tower when the truth about you and Loki got out, and it’d been having an influence on you. Along with your change in behaviour came Loki changing even more.

Loki stopped sleeping in your room one night, and when you wanted to ask him why, you could never seem to find him. You’d see him entering a room, and after following him in to talk to him, he’d be gone. You knew he was avoiding you, and it made your heart ache. A conversation between the two of you needed to happen, because nothing was right anymore. Going to sleep without him left you feeling empty, and it wasn’t a feeling you wanted to get used to. You soon realised Loki wasn’t even sleeping in his own room at night, he wasn’t even in the tower. Maybe because he wasn’t on speaking terms with the one person he really talked to in the building, he just didn’t see the point of being there at all.

The realisation came to mind that the only way you were going to be able to finally talk to him was if you caught him sneaking back inside. He surely couldn’t avoid you then. You wouldn’t let him. You wanted things to go back to how they were, because the short period of time you’ve spent feeling cold without Loki was something you couldn’t cope with in the long run.

It was four in the morning when you woke up, and seven minutes past four when a tall figure dressed in dark clothing quietly snook through the front door. This was it. This was it.

You stood up from the couch, smoothing out your sweatpants and waiting for Loki to come closer before speaking up.

“Loki?”

His head snapped in your direction, your voice surprising him after not hearing it for so long.. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.” You tried to stay calm and collected, but it was pretty hard knowing Loki had been purposely avoiding you. “Where have you been?”

“Oh, so you suddenly care about me now?” He let out a heartless laugh.

“What? I never stopped caring-”

“Bullshit.” Loki interrupted. “I’m not an idiot, (Y/N). I see the way you act around me now that everyone knows. The way that you’re paranoid about being seen with me.”

You took a step closer to him, shaking your head. “Loki, let me explain. I still want to be with you-”

“You still want to be with me?” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You certainly haven’t been making that clear. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not your boyfriend. We aren’t together.”

That one hurt. He wasn’t wrong, but it hurt to hear him say the words out loud. Maybe you weren’t together together, but you were something, whatever that was.

“You’re right, we’re not.” You talked a lot quieter than Loki. “But I want us to be. I just wanna know why you’ve been sneaking out every night until four in the morning.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “I don’t know why you are making me out to be the villain here... wait. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

The god nodded to himself as if he was coming to a realisation. “That’s why you don’t like being seen with me. I’m the villain; the evil, remorseless monster and you’re scared of everyone’s opinions of us.”

“I don’t- I don’t care-”

“Don’t lie to me.” For the first time since you started the conversation, Loki wasn’t yelling. It was oddly discomforting, how quick his tone changed.

You sighed, playing with your fingers nervously. “I don’t want to care. I don’t want to think about other people’s opinions of us, or me, or you.”

“Then why do you?”

“It’s not that simple...”

“Well that’s not good enough.” And he was back to raising his voice.

“What do you want from me?” You raised your voice too, feeling all the emotions you’ve felt throughout your time without Loki build up. “I’ve known Tony and Natasha and everyone else way longer than I’ve known you, and I trust them with my life, so when they said that they weren’t sure about me and you... I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“And me?” Loki put his hand on his chest. “Do you not trust me? They don’t know me, they don’t know anything about me.”

Again, he was right. They didn’t know the Loki you knew. The one who held you in his arms at night, the one who liked when you played with his hair, the one who cherished you, who wanted to be good for you. It was in that moment, you realised that they never would. They’d never understand what you had with Loki, and that’s why Loki was so hurt by all of this.

However, he hadn’t finished speaking yet.

“Don’t tell me this is about New York.” His eyes pierced into yours. “Is this about how I killed all those innocent people? How I destroyed the city? How I caused a great amount of grief to your friends?”

“Loki-”

“I was nothing.” Loki yelled, startling you a little. “I was nothing, and I wanted something. I needed something to give my life meaning. I’m not excusing what I did - I’m saying that I am not that person anymore. That was before I knew you, and I knew what it meant to be important to someone. To be craved, wanted, needed. Or maybe I never knew that after all.”

Before you could even try to say something to make things better, Loki had vanished from the room, leaving you standing alone. A single tear had managed to make its way down your cheek and you wiped it away quickly, not wanting to spend another night sad and teary-eyed.

Things would never be easy with Loki. Not because of him specifically, or you, they just couldn’t ever be simple. He was a god from another realm with an incredibly complex past, and you were nothing of the sort. You were so different from him, so different that it shouldn’t have been allowed for you to ever step near him. How a genuine connection had sparked between you two was beyond anyone’s knowledge, but it was there, and it was real.

Refusing to give up what you had with Loki was like praying to a god that was probably non-existent. It was a constant effort to keep things from falling to pieces when there was always a voice in the back of your head saying it was inevitable that they would. Putting all of your energy and emotion into what you had with him, even with the doubt in your mind that it might all be for nothing. It was because you were in love with him; you wouldn’t take such a risk if you didn’t feel so much for him. Maybe that was it.

You had to tell Loki you loved him.

Suddenly, your feet were carrying you from the living room to Loki’s room, and your hands started to tremble with nerves. Maybe this was the worst idea you’d ever had, or maybe it was the plan that would fix everything. Either way, you eventually made it to the door of the room, and with a firm knock, you waited for Loki to show himself again.

It took a short while, but the door handle finally started rattling, and with a click, the door was open and Loki was stood in front of you again. He didn’t look angry, or sad, or anything; the god just stared at you blankly.

“You look tired, you should get some sl-”

“I love you.”

Well that was blunt, you thought to yourself. However, if you’d overthinked saying it any more, you probably would’ve ended up chickening out.

Loki was, well, speechless. His widened eyes scanned your face for any sign of your statement being a joke, or a lie.

“You’re lying.” He knew you weren’t lying.

In response, you laughed. Laughed, because you knew he knew you were telling the truth, yet he still chose to deny it.

“Alright then,” You nodded, playing along. “I’ll stop lying.”

You stepped towards him, prompting him to step back. “I don’t love you and I don’t want to be with you.”

You were still lying.

Another step forward. “I don’t miss you sleeping in my bed every night, I don’t think about you all the time and I wouldn’t care if we just stopped seeing each other all together.”

All lies.

As you took your final step towards him, Loki’s back hit the wall opposite his bedroom door. Your eyes were locked with his, neither of you looking away for a second.

“And I don’t want to kiss you right now. I don’t want to touch you, and feel you, and show you how much I love you.”

His lips were centimetres away from yours.

“Tell me, was I really lying the first time?”

Your lips brushed his as you whispered the words to him, and soon enough, you were kissing him. The feeling of his hands on your waist and your body pressed against his felt like heaven, a large contrast to the hell that was fighting with him.

Once you both pulled back for air, you placed your hand on Loki’s face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “You’re right, Everyone else, they don’t know you. They’ll never be lucky enough to know you, not like I do.”

Loki leaned in and gave you a passionate kiss, turning the both of around so you were the one against the wall. “I don’t want them to know me. Only you, (Y/N). I only want you to know me.”

“Sounds good to me.” You breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking lips with the god again. You walked Loki back, keeping your lips pressed against his and pushing him to sit on his bed. After quickly pulling your shirt over your head, you climbed on Loki’s lap and continued to kiss him roughly, finally satisfying the craving for him that you’d had for so long.

Loki pulled away briefly, tugging his shirt off his body. Once he’d finished, he flipped his black locks out of his face and his eyes found yours again, looking at you longingly.

You trailed one of your hands down his bare chest to his stomach and slowly traced the curves of his abs. “You know, we might just get away with this. Us.”

“Perhaps so, darling.” Loki replied, his lips meeting your neck.

“Oh, and just incase I haven’t made it clear,” Loki moved his mouth next to your ear, his breath against your skin making you shiver.

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you could ever know.”

[wikiangela-fanfics]

“No, and that’s final”

Another fic from Fictober 2019, again Destiel

I will post some new stuff soon, but currently I’m swamped with homework assignmets, so here’s another old fic

(I think I’ve made a post about it before, but it was just a link to Ao3, I guess)

I don’t even know what it was supposed to be, but it turned out like this, so here we go

Summary:  When Dean is jealous and starts a fight with his boyfriend, Cas.

Words: 2197

Ao3

***

"What did you just say?" Dean asked his boyfriend, getting just a little bit mad, with his fork midway between his mouth and his plate.

"That I ran into Michael and-" Cas started to say calmly, eating his dinner.

"Yeah, I heard that." Dean answered, angrily stabbing the food with his fork.

"Then why do you ask?" Cas was really confused. Sometimes he was so oblivious to rhetorical questions, as well as to sarcasm, actually. It was really adorable and Dean would probably smile with a smile reserved only for Castiel, but he was too mad now.

"I would love it if you waited until after dinner to ruin my mood." Dean grumbled, then chewing his food.

"What do you mean? It's not like anything happened. We're friends and-"

"Oh, really?" Dean scoffed. "Friends? You and that asshole?"

"First of all, it would be nice if you stopped interrupting me all the time." Cas was still calm, but Dean could see that there's a fight coming. He hated this. "And second of all, yes, we didn't end on good terms, but we ran into each other a couple of times and-"

"Excuse me?" Dean dropped his fork to the plate, which caused quite a loud sound. Cas shoot him an annoyed glare. Dean interrupting him while he was talking was infuriating sometimes. Or all the time. "Couple times? Why don't I know anything about it?"

"Because I knew how you'd react." Cas' tone changed. He sounded like he was getting angry too. "Which is, like you're acting right now."

"We're together, Cas. We should tell each other stuff." Dean said, still trying to eat. He was mad, but also hungry.

"Like you told me about how you ran into Lisa and went for coffee with her? I found out about that from Sam." Cas pointed out.

"That was different." Dean got defensive. They just happened to run into each other in a cafe. So of course they talked and tried to catch up, after not seeing each other for a few years. And of course he would tell Cas if friggin' Sam didn't beat him to it.

"How was it different? I just bumped into Michael a couple of times and we got to talking and we're cool now." Cas still tried to be calm.

"Then why did you even tell me at all?" Dean raised his voice a little, unconsciously. "It's not like you cheated, right? So no reason to tell me anything! Not like we're in a serious, mature relationship." suddenly he lost his appetite, so he just stood up and took the plate with his half eaten dinner and put it by the sink. Maybe he would microwave it later. Or not. Either way, he was done with eating for now.

"I'm telling you, because he invited me-"

"Hell no."

"You don't even-"

"I said no." Dean more growled than said.

"What do you mean 'no'? And would you stop cutting me off mid sentence?" Cas also raised his voice. He was getting sick of this. "You have absolutely no reason to act like that!"

"I have a reason!" now Dean almost yelled. "You went out with him for years!"

"Please, don't yell." Cas was still sitting at the table. "Just listen to me."

"Okay." Dean took a deep breath and stood by the kitchen counter. "I'm listening. What do you have to say?"

"I just wanted to say that, and let me finish please, he invited me, us, actually, to a small party, more like a gathering, really, he and his boyfriend are having this weekend. But we don't have to go, Dean." Cas stood up and took a few steps towards his boyfriend. "I just wish you would talk to me and listen to me, instead of getting angry."

"Sorry." Dean ran his hand through his hair. "I just don't want you meeting with your exes." he walked over to Cas and put his hands on Cas' waist, pulling him closer. "Really, I don't like to share you with anyone."

"But you don't have to be jealous. I love you."

"Love you too, Cas." Dean gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Just don't meet with him anymore."

"I can't really control if I run into him." Cas chuckled. "It's a small town."

"So don't talk to him then."

"That would be rather rude, don't you think?" Cas said and Dean took a step back, getting annoyed again.

"Dammit, Cas, I just don't want you seeing him ever again."

"That can't really happen. And you can't forbid me to talk to anyone." Cas was outraged. Dean was his partner, and he loved him, but this was ridiculous. He didn't have a right to forbid Cas doing anything. "Maybe I will go to this party." he said not because he wanted to go, but out of spite. They both weren't the easiest people, so when they fought, it could be for days.

"Like hell you will." Dean walked over to the fridge and took a beer.

"You can't tell me what to do."

"I said no. And that's final." Dean said quieter, but still angry, basically pointing the bottle at Cas. And he knew those words were a mistake as soon as they got out of his mouth.

"That's not up to discussion. I'm going. You're welcome to join me." with that, Cas stormed out of the room.

Dean sighed. He was too stubborn, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. He didn't want to sound like he did, but he was the way he was. He wanted to change a little, be easier to live with, but it was harder than he thought. And Cas knew him for years now, they moved in together almost three years ago. Cas knew him better than anyone. He knew what to expect. Still, Dean was mad at himself for everything he said.

He left the kitchen too, leaving the plates with unfinished dinner like they were. Then he left the house, taking only his car keys. When he was like this, he had to go for a ride and try to calm himself down. And his car was always able to help with that.

***

When he got back home, around an hour and a half later, it was dark outside. He saw a light in the bedroom window, so he knew where to find Cas.

He parked his car in the garage and went upstairs. Like he expected, Cas was on the bed, reading a book. They had different ways of dealing with stuff. Cas' was to just forget about everything for a moment, usually by reading. Of course, if he wasn't so mad that he couldn't even read. After their fight, he had to just sit there for a good half an hour and calm down before he could open a book.

The door was open. Cas was half lying on the bed, with his head on the headrest and book in his hands. He was wearing his glasses and his favourite t-shirt that originally belonged to Dean, but for years now was Cas'. Dean smiled, seeing him. He loved him so much, he wasn't sure that's even possible. And he had to try not to fuck it up, which wasn't always easy for him.

Cas didn't notice him, he was too into his book. So Dean knocked on the door frame quietly and Cas' gaze fell on him. He almost smiled but then he remembered that he's mad at Dean, so he kept his expression emotionless. As much as he could. It was hard not to smile, seeing this beautiful human he loved with all his heart.

"Hi." Winchester said, leaning on the door frame. "Can I come in?"

"It's your bedroom too." Cas said, sitting up properly, putting the book on the bedside table and taking his glasses off. Dean walked in and sat down next to Cas, with his feet still on the floor.

"Look, I'm really sorry." he started, taking Castiel's hand in his. "I didn't mean that. I'm just a jealous asshole."

"Agreed." Cas muttered as the corner of his mouth went up. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah. I'm just… I don't wanna lose you, Cas. I realise that you're way too good for me and you can't blame me for being a little paranoid because of that."

"Dean" Cas took Dean's face into his hands. "If anything, you are too good for me . And I'm not mad because you were jealous. I get that. I get jealous of you all the time."

"Really?" Dean was a little bit surprised. "You never say anything."

"Because I trust you and I know I have no reason to start a fight over my stupid jealousy." he gave Dean a look. That's what he's been doing and it was stupid, Dean knew that. He couldn't help it.

"I trust you too." he took Castiel's hands from his face and took them into his hands. "It's just, I don't know." he sighed. "You know that I can't really cope with my feelings."

"Oh, I know." Cas rolled his eyes. When they met, Dean was the biggest asshole to him, because he was into him. That was just ridiculous. But Cas fell in love with him anyway. "That's okay, I know you and I get it. But what pissed me off today was mostly the fact that you think-"

"I know." Dean interrupted him.

"That too." Cas muttered.

"Sorry, didn't mean to- fuck. I gotta stop doing this." Dean ran his hand over his face. "I know I shouldn't tell you who you can talk to or anything. It's not my place and it's not cool and I'm sorry. I can't do that. And if you wanna talk to all your exes, I can't and shouldn't stop you. I mostly got mad because you two have tons of history, you've known him since forever and it just made me feel... insecure."

"Why?" Cas was tilting his head in that adorable way.

"Because I'll never get to be what he was to you." Dean whispered, not really wanting to admit it even to himself. Michael was Castiel's childhood friend, than his on-and-off boyfriend, he was a bunch of Cas' firsts… and Dean was just another boyfriend. That was something he didn't realize he felt until he thought about it this whole time in the car.

"That's not true, Dean." Cas changed his position so that now he was sitting on Dean's lap, with his legs on both sides of Dean. "You are so much more to me than anyone ever was or will be." he kissed Dean's lips for a second. "You're my one true love and that will never change. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. Stop looking so down at yourself, Dean. I love you and only you, despite how hard it is sometimes. I love you, okay?" while he was talking he was looking into Dean's eyes.

"Will you marry me?" it slipped out of Dean's mouth. They never really talked about it, maybe sometimes they would mention it or joke about it, but they both didn't expect that to happen, at least not so soon, not in that moment. So they were both really surprised.

"Are you serious?" Cas wanted to make sure before he would say yes. Because of course he will. Despite how chaotic their relationship was, they made it work so far and they will for the rest of their lives.

"Yeah, I mean, I love you and I wanna spend the rest of my life loving you and making you happy." he gently stroked Cas' cheek. "If you can put up with all my bullshit." he added and Cas chuckled. "So, will you marry me?"

"Of course, Dean." he kissed him passionately, pushing his back onto the bed, so that now he was basically above Dean. He was so happy. "I can't believe this." he whispered against Dean's lips.

"Me neither." Dean admitted with a smile. And Cas sat up and looked down at Dean.

"You can't take that back now." he pointed his finger at Dean, who just laughed.

"I hope not." he grinned, pulling Cas to him again.

"We still need to talk, Dean." Cas said, not really wanting to, but, well, they needed to talk.

Dean kissed his jaw, but then Cas pulled away a little, cursing himself for it. Then Dean spoke: "We can go to the stupid party. I promise I'll behave. I'll try not to make a big deal out of stuff like that anymore and I promise not to interrupt you when you speak." he said quickly. "Now, if there's still something to talk about, it can wait. Now we gotta celebrate, fiancé. " he added, his hands sneaking under Castiel's t-shirt.

Cas smiled at that. They were engaged. Who cares if it happened because of a stupid irrelevant fight? He decided that all they needed to talk about, they can do later. They have the rest of their lives to talk and figure everything out. Right now, he was going to enjoy the moment. With his future husband.

[r-romanoff]

Photon Blasts & Spider Webs

Chapter: 1 Part 2

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Master list

Chapter Summary: Cliches are seeming kinda frequent come your second day, and Bucky honestly can't say Sh*t

September, 23, 2019

"So, any new friends?" Wanda asked driving the two of you home. Yes actually. A girl Named Betty and some of her friends I think, I'm not really sure I don't know if they like me yet. Oh and this one weird kid Peter although he's more of an acquaintance though. I'm still getting to know him, kinda strange seeming." I then begin to explain my whole day and how it unfolded. "Look at that I'm so proud of you!" She smiles and laughs in a joking way. "Just don't blast any kids in the face this time." The burnett begins to chuckle even more, earning an embarrassed response. "Hey I was seven! I'm still mad Natasha told you. May she rest in peace." " "Amen. So wanna stuff our faces with food until we pass out" "Do I!!!"

September, 24, 2019

"Ok um... where to put you" the chem lab teacher mutters to himself. Then comes a somewhat loud voice. "There's an empty seat next to Peter." A random student sitting herself seemed like he didn't want anyone else sharing his space. She had wavy brown hair and a light mocha skin color, and she was wearing mostly black. "Good idea, wait. Where is Parker?" The teacher answered back, looking around the class room I quickly scan to see if the Peter I meet was to be seen. If it was that Peter was at all, "I'm here sorry I'm late Mrs. Watterson." Yup it was that same weird Peter from physics, and the hallway. "Good Y/N will be your partner from now on." The teacher concluded, as Peter began to walk to his desk I decided to fallow behind when it happened. I tripped.

Better yet someone had tripped me with their foot. As I fell I feel myself accidentally knock over some of the tubes and substances from desks nearby. Trying to cling on to my dignity, while accidentally bringing down Peter Parker with me. Both unwillingly but instinctively clenching on to his sweater Turning him around hoping not to fall we hit the ground, me landing on top of him, him laying there to cushion my fall. Unfortunately not doing the same to all I had knocked over glass beakers and cylinders crashing to the ground. Substances mixing in the air as I finally landed on him. Both of us cover in what ever it was that fell. Still in shock from what had seemed like the longest fall of my life all I'm able to mutter out while still grasping onto the boy was; "uh i-I." The situation getting a whole lot worse with my classmates beginning to open their mouths. "Aw My Shoes!" One kid yelled; "My Jacket..." an other complained seeming just as shocked as I was.

Speaking of shocked as the chattering increased the whole class began to lose control at what happened. No longer delaying the inevitable I look up at Peter, his face painted with shock, disbelief, and cluelessness but I couldn't really blame him either. And then it happened again; "Hey look Parker's got a boyfriend!" Shit it got worse. My face flushed pink in embarrassment, I immediately let go of Peter leaving visible marks on his sweater from where I was holding on, on his are and chest. Attempting to stand up I begin to stumble on my own two feet trying to avoid stepping on Peter sparing us any moment embarrassment, I storm out of the classroom my shirt dripping in what ever the mixed liquids were. All I could hear now were the faded noises of the chemistry lab and the teacher calling after me.

It wasn't until about thirty seconds later that I now realise someone is following me. I instantaneously come to a halt and begin to hold onto my elbows, hugging them when I realise who it is. "I'm sorry." I pout looking down at my feet feeling tears begin to leak, water beginning to glisten trying to hide behind the brim of my eye my nose beginning to sniffle. "I just came to make sure you were ok, um... are you cry-never mind. You probably don't want to clean up we really don't know what any of this is." He kindly walks over. "I'm in shock that's all I- um yeah that sounds nice, but I don't have any other clothes." I try to explain still sniffling. "I have spare clothes in the locker room. We could head over there if you'd like. By the way don't listen to anything Flash says he's kind of a dick to everybody." He mentions the name of the jerk who probably made the off hand comment. The for some reason really got to me. Resting his hand on my shoulder, slowly lifting my head I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Lead the way please." I faintly smile trying to look on the bright side that I didn't go crazy and photon blast anyone who was talking.

Following Peter at an extremely close distance to the locker rooms I feel six. I feel helpless, like before I discovered my powers that I barely use. I feel like the clingy 6 year old that would cling onto Tony's or Natasha's jeans when I was scared. The six year old that wouldn't leave Fury's or Maria Hill's side whenever we went out, or were at some secret base. The same little boy that loved having conversations with Maria Rambo about mom. Now that I've been 17 since April I still feel kind of the same, always asking Wanda for advice about things while watching Netflix with Sam and Bucky. "We're almost there" Peter says snapping me out of thought only to bring them to him, he seems really nice. Although I still can't shake this feeling that when we first met it was kind of forced in a bad not so good way.

He's definitely sugar coating something right, or am I just being paranoid. No he definitely seemed like he was looking for me, like he already knew who I was. "And we have officially made it." Peter snaps me out of my thoughts, holding the red door open for me. "Thanks, so um... you get into these situations often" I ask while he opens his locker not wanting our whole time to be spent in silence. "Well these situations specifically no, flash being a dick yes." He answers passing me a shirt with a printed photograph of the Avengers from a while back. "So which one is flash exactly?" I don't recall seeing who made the comment. Examining the black shirt more closely I see; Thor when he still had his old hammer, Wanda, Vision, Clint, Tony, Natasha, Rhodey, & Sam. Wow if I put this on I'll never hear the end of it when I get home. "He was the one that tripped you, that's Taylor Swift right?" What? Giving him a confused look he points to my now ruined shirt. Running my hand through my h/c messy hair, I look realizing the shirt I'm wearing had the initials T.s. with seagulls on it. And a faded blue and pink sky background that was now stained. "Oh yes 1989" I smile, only faintly however now seeing that my shirt is most likely not gonna clean out. "You're gonna put that on? Right?" I look back up only to find Peter half shirtless finding out he's refereeing to your shirt. Blushing intensely at his um... you know, I quickly turn around taking off my shirt and put the one he gave me on as quickly as possible.

Taking one last deep breath before turning back around to see him what I think is intensely staring. As my blushing intensifies I accidentally let words slip. "Were you looking?" "What! Um no, were you um, looking" he fumbled a bit "no." I mumble a bit feeling a bit insecure. Not that I wasn't fit I mean I had a little bit of muscle but I'm not fit-fit if that makes sense. "Um thanks a lot, I really appreciate it" I look at his shirt with an the school logo on it than looking back up at his face. Smiling he responds, "It's ok really we should do that again. No I mean not getting into that situation sorry! I mean hang out, I mean we didn't talk much but what I'm saying is I'd like to get to know you! If that isn't weird." He panics mildly earning a small giggle from me. "It's not funny." He frowns a bit; "No I'm sorry I'd like to hang out to, your cool. Exchange numbers?" I ask pulling out my cell phone. "Yes!" He does the same us giving and receiving each other's phone numbers. "We should probably head back to class to." He reminded me that the last thing I want is call home considering my current guardians.

As the rest of the day goes on I finally make it to lunch. Navigating the hallways again Betty finds me looking extremely concerned. "Y/N, thank goodness I found you are you ok. I heard what happened and the rumors being spread are awful." My heart immediately sank, rumors. Ok this is exactly like some shity coming of age high school movie now and I hate it. Rumors, what rumors? "I don't- what? Tell me what is going on" is all I'm able to say before pulling her into an empty hallway for an explanation. "People are going around saying that you're gay. I know it may not be a big deal and all but some people are taking it seriously, and I don't know what to tell people who ask about it." The blonde quickly whispers, my face becomes shocked and confused at the same time. "Well?" Betty almost asks waiting for a response. "It's half true, I'm bi. I think, I'm pretty sure." I whisper in a barely audible tone not wanting her to judge me as I rush into trusting a girl I've known for a day. "You know what, if you don't want anyone to know it'll probably blow over hopefully." She says smiling awkwardly "I'll help you get through this just don't worry we'll just hang out and ride out the storm ok. You still up for the mall tomorrow?" She grabs my hand trying to make sure I was calm. My facial expression having not changed since she told me the news. "Yeah I'm up I guess, let's just not comment on the rumors ok. I could care less currently I just wanna let things play out naturally, ok? It's just I don't want to be defined by my sexuality for now that's all. You're right anyway let's just relax and hang out after all it's currently not a big deal unless we make it one. And thanks a lot Betty." I lean in for a hug the blonde opening up her arms for an embrace. "No problem." She squeezed a bit tighter.

LATER THAT DAY

"Listen kid I understand I'm great and all, but you don't have to wear that shirt around if all you wanted was an autograph." Sam said with a cocky smirk as he sat down on the couch along with Bucky, and Wanda earning chuckles from you three. "Be careful Sam, if your head fills up with anymore air you might leave the atmosphere" Bucky begins to laugh with Wanda and I. "Or he could do us a favor and pop" I begin to laugh harder despite the fact that we were watching Bird Box. After a while of comebacks from Sam and Wanda we all eventually calm down. Watching Sandra Bullock and the kids making it down the rapids without Tom when all of a sudden. "Wait What!?!?" Wanda seems to have realized something as Bucky seemed to have pointed something out. Barns seems to be about to spit it out as well with a squinty smirk on his face; "Hey kid." I look at him and the others confused not knowing what to expect. "Who's shirt is that?" What, what does that oh... I can feel my ears heat up as Wanda and Sam's smirks grow. Bucky's eyes squint a bit more as his face looks like it's jokingly saying 'You little bastard.' Implying that he's thinking something dirty and at this point I really regret not showing and changing as soon as I got home because honestly I'm fucked.

Previous Chapter/

An: So I feel like my story is better a bit rushed if so please tell me. This also wasn't revised I forgot so feel free to correct any errors. Don't feel so good about it. May not be my best work.

Also the first paragraph of the chapter was ment to be the ending of the last chapter

Please give opinion I would love you here your thoughts on the second chapter also I think the reader in this is gonna be bi as in most stories the reader is usually full on gay regardless it doesn't matter because it is an x Peter Parker fic so yeah

Ps there may or may not be foreshadowing about something that's going to happening in the future of somebody's relationship

Tag List (ask to be put on)

@klanceiscannon14 @wiitchy-wooo @multifandom-slytherin @jonnyjay2413 @lazerman217 @stuffdealwithit @sorceressandy @sunshadetrees @filthydeatheaters

[brokenmimir]

A Serious Interruption

White Rose Week 2019, Day 5: Loss

Weiss is peeved about Ruby standing her up, until finally her girlfriend calls.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214080

Weiss sat impatiently at the table. She was wearing her best dress, a beautiful gray and blue number that had cost as much as a new car, and that was before the jewelry. She knew that Ruby wouldn't really notice how fancy her outfit was, and she'd probably spit out her drink, ruining it, if Weiss told her what it was worth. Still, she knew she looked good, and it was important to her to look her best for her girlfriend.

Of course, that was over an hour ago. She'd arrived a little early, as she always did, and Ruby would run in a little late, stumbling over excuses, like always. She'd then lecture her dolt, Ruby would look like a kicked puppy, and it would be so cute that she'd forgive her instantly. It was the way things always worked. But today she wasn't just a few minutes late.

Had she been stood up? She knew that everyone who looked at her would assume she was. She was starting to think that she was, even. They'd met on the first day of college three years before, and had started dating almost a year ago, but suddenly all the doubts that she usually kept quiet began to bubble up at the back of her mind.

Did Ruby really care about her? Did she just pretend to put up with Weiss' sometimes… difficult personality, all so that she could laugh at her after eleven months and three days of dating? Even Weiss knew that was ridiculously paranoid, but as the minutes dragged on without a word she began to fret more and more.

Then her phone rang, and after a quick glance at the caller she answered. “Where have you been?”

There was a long silence, and just before she repeated her demand Ruby finally spoke, her voice thick and shaking. “W-Weiss?”

“What is it?” Weiss asked, a different kind of worry overtaking her, her insecurities forgotten at the distressed tone. Ruby never sounded like that, should never sound like that. “What's wrong?”

“It's dad… I'm at the hospital…” Ruby trailed off. “I- I'm not gonna make it tonight. Dad's… he had a heart attack. I'm gonna be here tonight. I'm sorry, I-”

“Don't!” Weiss interrupted, flagging down a waiter. “Don't even think about apologizing! Where are you?”

“The hospital,” Ruby repeated.

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Which one. There are about a dozen in Vale.”

“I- uh, I dunno,” Ruby said. “I rode in the ambulance. I can ask someone…”

“Please do,” Weiss said, flagging down a waiter again, this time adding a glare at his slow pace.

“I'm at Beacon University Hospital,” Ruby finally answered.

Weiss hummed. “Alright, I'll be right there.”

“You don't have to-”

“Of course I do, you dolt!” Weiss snapped. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Weiss hadn't met Taiyang Xiao Long, Ruby's father. Even with how long they'd been roommates, then friends, then girlfriends, she'd never actually met any of her family besides her brute of an older sister. Weiss had… problems with her own family, and she'd used every excuse she could think of not to meet Ruby's. Apparently that was about to change, however.

Beacon University Hospital was the biggest in the city, and one of the finest in the world. Like a campus adjacent to the college campus, it was a steel and glass building standing fourteen stories tall, with a half dozen other buildings connected to it by elevated walkways. One of them was an enormous concrete parking garage, which was fortunately fairly empty so late in the evening.

It took almost as long to find her way through the maze of causeways and elevators as it had to drive across the city, but after much longer than she would've liked she finally found her way into the emergency room. It was busy, the wounded and suddenly acutely ill of the city being ferried into the area at all hours. Her eyes quickly found who she was looking for, however, as she saw Ruby slumped on a couch in the corner.

She looked… rough. She was dressed nicely, in a black skirt and red blouse, obviously having gotten ready for their date, and she'd even tamed her black with red highlights hair for the evening. However, her posture was slumped, her face a mask of worry, her silver eyes reddened from crying. She looked lost and afraid, something that Weiss had never seen from her before, and which she never wanted to see from her again. Ruby should never look like that. Ever.

Walking over, she sat next to her on the couch, and Ruby was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice. She started to lift a hand, but she felt so far away that it didn't seem like she could touch her without permission. “Ruby?”

Ruby blinked a few times, and then looked over. “Weiss?”

Finally she put a hand on her shoulder, and then moved over so that she could slide it around to her other shoulder, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend. “I'm- I'm here.”

“You came,” Ruby said.

“Of course I did, you dolt,” Weiss said gently.

“You- you didn't want to meet dad,” Ruby said.

“That's not true,” Weiss said guilt churning in her belly.

Ruby gave her a dubious look. “You didn't have to come.”

“Of course I did,” Weiss snapped, before kissing her cheek in apology. “There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you. Even if that means sitting in the ER instead of our date.”

“I'm sorry,” Ruby said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Weiss insisted.

“But I ruined our date,” Ruby said. “And I know you don't want to meet dad.”

“It's not your fault at all, but I'm going to get mad if you keep acting like this is,” Weiss huffed. “And… I was afraid to meet your father.”

“Why?”

“My father is… my relationship with my family is not good,” Weiss said, deciding to leave it there, and from Ruby's snort she knew that her girlfriend recognized the understatement. “I was afraid of what your family would think of me. I know I can be… difficult, and if he didn't like me… you two are so close…”

“Dad will love you,” Ruby insisted.

“But what if he doesn't?” Weiss asked, her voice small.

Ruby gave her a reassuring smile. “There's no way that's possible. Wanna know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because you're way too lovable,” Ruby said, giving her a soft kiss. After a moment her face fell as she looked at the doors into the rest of the emergency room.

“Have the doctors said anything?” Weiss asked. “What happened?”

Ruby shook her head. “I'd just gotten ready for our date, and I went to say bye. He was… he'd had a heart attack. I called 911 and they sent an ambulance and I went with them but when I got here they took him in and told me to wait here, and I sat down but then I remembered our date so I called you but then I've been sitting here and nothing's happening and I don't know what's wrong and-”

“Shh,” Weiss said, placing a hand over her mouth to stop her babbling. “This is the best hospital in Vale, so I'm sure they're doing everything they can to help him.”

“But what if… what if it's not enough,” Ruby mumbled when Weiss pulled her hand away. “First mom, and if dad…”

“Don't think about that yet,” Weiss said. “I'm the one who's always worried about the worst. You're supposed to be the optimistic one. Just focus on him getting better, and I'll worry about taking care of you if the worst happens, okay?”

“You don't have to take care of me,” Ruby muttered.

“No I don't,” Weiss agreed simply. “But I will, anyway.”

Ruby teared up, and then collapsed into her arms, sobbing quietly. Weiss hugged her as hard as she could, and she felt her own eyes fill with tears. She didn't know Taiyang, but he was important to Ruby, and that made him important to her. More than that, she suddenly wished that she had met him. If he died she would've let her own insecurities keep her from meeting the father of the woman she loved. She would never forgive herself for that weakness if the worst happened.

After a long time Ruby stopped crying, simply resting in her arms, until finally Weiss decided to speak, whispering gently in her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Ruby rasped back.

Weiss gently rubbed her back, sitting in silence for a while, until she felt a rumble from Ruby's stomach. Glancing at the clock she frowned. “You need to eat.”

Ruby shook her head. “I can't leave. What if something happens?”

Weiss scoffed. “First of all, you're obviously hungry, and starving yourself won't help your father. I'm going to take care of you, remember? So that means you need to eat.”

“I thought that was only if the worst happens.”

Weiss pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “You mean this isn't the worst thing that's happened during our relationship so far?”

“I- that's… that's not what that means,” Ruby said.

“Well, if you didn't want it to mean that you should've spoken up earlier,” Weiss said breezily. “Now, I'm going to get you some food from the cafeteria, and when I get back you're going to eat a meal. You don't want your dad to have to worry about you starving yourself when you get to see him, do you?”

“That's not fair,” Ruby grumbled.

“Then you shouldn't have dated someone in business and prelaw,” Weiss said. “I don't do fair.”

For the next two hours Weiss took care of Ruby with the same ruthless precision she normally used to tackle homework. Nothing was left to chance, and no needs were unmet. Ruby was forcefully fed, watered, hugged, and pampered as much as anyone could be while sitting in the emergency room waiting area. Weiss even took over phone duties, repeatedly calling Ruby's sister Yang, her girlfriend Blake, and her uncle Qrow, until finally she managed to get through to them. All three were unfortunately out of Vale, so they wouldn't make it back until tomorrow at the earliest.

Just when she was starting to work herself up to bullying Ruby into taking a nap the woman at the desk called her name. “Ruby Rose?”

Ruby jumped up, and Weiss grabbed her hand, keeping her from sprinting through the ER. “This is Ruby Rose,” Weiss said when her girlfriend hesitated to actually speak. “How is Mr. Xiao Long?”

“He's able to see visitors now,” the woman said. “He can have two guests at once. Room 23.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said while Ruby simply nodded. The woman opened the electronic doors, and Weiss led the way down the hall looking for Room 23. “He can have visitors. That's a good sign.”

Ruby nodded, although she didn't look convinced. Finally they reached Room 23, and once again Ruby hesitated. Weiss kissed her cheek, and that seemed to give her enough courage to open the door with a shaking hand.

Taiyang looked younger than Weiss had imagined, with a thick head of bright blond hair and tan skin. He obviously look good care of himself, his well defined muscles visible under the hospital gown. Despite the many wires and tubes connected to his body his blue eyes were wide open, and a cheerful grin was on his face.“

Rubadoob!” he called upon seeing her. “There you are!”

“Dad!” Ruby shouted, running in, before hesitating when she came close. He just smiled and nodded, and she leaned down and hugged him.

After a few moments he looked over at Weiss, studying her carefully. “And who's this beautiful young lady?”

Ruby pulled back, smiling as she waved Weiss closer. “This is Weiss.”

“Ah, the mysterious Weiss,” Taiyang said. “It's nice to meet you. I heard you've been taking good care of my little girl.”

Weiss curtsied nervously, a quavering smile on her face. “It's an honor to meet you, sir.”

He made a face. “Save the 'sirs' for fancy people. Just call me Tai.”

“Of- of course,” Weiss said, even though she doubted she'd be able to say it.

“Dad… are you okay?” Ruby finally asked.

He chuckled slightly. “Well… apparently I shouldn't be eating quite so much cured meats from now on. But the doctors said it was just an itty bitty heart attack.”

Ruby's lip quivered. “Really?”

“Really, Ruby,” he said. “I'm gonna need to take some medicines, and take better care with my menus. But I'll be around to give you away to this young lady someday, alright?”

Ruby blushed, but her lip quivered, and she hugged him again, crying in relief. Weiss had more doubts about how 'itty bitty' a heart attack could be, but a shared glance between Tai and her told them both that they'd be keeping just how serious it all was from Ruby.

Weiss had never met Tai before that night, but she was suddenly felt a bond with him. Walking over she put a hand on Ruby's shoulder and offered him her most confident smile. “I'll take good care of her.”

“Good,” he said. “I'm going be around for quite a while longer, but knowing my little girl is in good hands makes me happy.”

“I'm right here,” Ruby mumbled petulantly.

“Yes, dear,” Weiss said, kissing the top of her head.

Ruby just grumbled while Tai grinned at the interaction. Weiss smiled back shyly, suddenly sorry that she'd taken so long to meet him. Hopefully he would make a full recovery and be around for many, many years to come, since she wanted to get to know him. Someday she might be able to call him 'dad', and finally have someone in her life worthy of the title.

“So I noticed you pulled out all the stops getting ready for your date tonight,” Tai said. “If I was twenty years younger and you weren't dating my daughter I'd be asking you out on a date right now.”

“Dad!” Ruby objected.

“Wait, it's getting pretty late, have you eaten anything Ruby?”

“Weiss made me eat in the waiting room,” Ruby muttered.

Tai grinned. “Already taking good care of her. Rich, beautiful, and attentive. Ruby, if you don't marry her I'm gonna have to disown you.”

“Dad!”

Weiss giggled, unable to repress a smile as Tai continued to tease his daughter. After so many hours of worry it felt good to laugh. Weiss didn't need to go to an expensive restaurant to spend an evening with Ruby. Even if it meant hospital beds and tears there was nowhere in the world she'd rather be than at her girlfriend's side.

[whiskeyworen]

Almost Functional

“Cyrus? Are you there?” Tenna fiddled with the commset in the faceguard of the new gear. “I’ve got a lot of Mist-distortion futzing with my signal. Can you hear me?” She was in Lion’s Arch -- now, anyways. A few minutes ago she’d tried out the personal teleporter based off a particular insane Sylvari’s design. The device worked, feeding off the energy of the Mists once it was integrated with the armor, but... “Damnit... Cyrus, COME IN. I’m here in Lion’s Arch outside that damned Whispers bar you like so much. DO YOU READ ME?” Her earpiece crackled with static before a familiar voice replied. “Roger that, Tenna. You in one piece?” She lifted her arm, considering the horrific scarring and warping of the material, and glanced down her right side. Somewhere between Here and There, she and her suit had experienced...a burp. A transit burp. “Well, I’m unharmed, if that’s what you wanna know. But it seems we need to refine the PTs a little bit. I’m pretty sure I nearly came close to getting my right side spread across the rest of infinity or something.” A rueful chuckle greeted her. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Or we need to increase the shielding around the body for when someone teleports. We’ll never be able to sell these things if people end up melting midway through their journey.” “Cyrus? Does that mean...”

Cyrus, in his destination of Hoelbrak, looked at the melted mass that encased his right arm. The metal of the armor had run and fused, mutating into Gods-only knew what. Even though it felt rigid on the outside, he could still bend and twist his arm as if it were only encased in a cloth sleeve. “....Yeah. Mine melted a bit. Right side. Entire arm up to the shoulder, and I think part of my leg. It might have even melted the mask, but I can’t see without taking the faceplate off.” He shook his head. “Well, at least the atmosphere systems are working. I can’t even feel Hoelbrak’s chill.” There was a pause from the other end of the line. Then when Tenna spoke, she sounded mildly amused. “I think my outer right toe got caught too?... Yep. It’s all weird and floppy. Is the metal of the armor all floppy in the melty part too?” “Yeah it is. And I think we might have some kind of containment breach of Mist energy too.” He waved his hand through the air, disturbing the shadowy mist roiling off his armor. “I’ve got some black-ish Mist coming from my gear.” “....Mine’s bright pink-red.” Cyrus paused for a second, blinking slowly. He sighed heavily. “You know... I really hate how the Mists fuck with our concept of reality. Smoke should be SMOKE, not whatever damned color the underside of reality flips a coin for.” “At least we are alive.” A third voice chimed in gruffly.

“Ah, Verula. Was wondering when you’d join in the comm circuit. Did you end up at destination?” “Affirmative, Cyrus. I’m somewhere in Timberline Falls.” She grunted as she chopped an errant Mordrem vine that had gotten too close. “...They really need to burn all these Mordrem vines here. It can’t be healthy to leave them alive.” “Let the Pact deal with that. It’s not our concern.” Cyrus replied firmly. “Did you lose any bits? Or did you get through the teleport intact?” “If I had to give a percentage, I’d say it was 75% successful. The armor is ruined on one side entirely. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my sword too.” “...Is it the right side?” Tenna asked. “Indeed.” Tenna sighed on the other end of the line. “Three for three. That means we have a definite design fault to find. Either it’s in the design of the teleporter, or it’s inherent in the armor itself. This is going to be a pain in the ass to find you know.” “Scarlet must have known something more about rapid Mist-movement than we do.” Cyrus replied. “I know she teleported without suffering this kind of damage because I was there when she was using it. But she was so paranoid by that point that she kept her best ‘toys’ to herself. We’re lucky we recovered even part of the blueprints.” Tenna made a disgruntled affirmative sound. “I’ll get back to the drawing board. Maybe I’ll find that sylvari Revenant that hitched a ride a while back, and question her about the Mists. Friggin’ twig was lost in them for so long, maybe she learned something special about them. Something no one else is talking about.” “Do that.” Cyrus acknowledged. “Keep me posted.” He glanced over at a glass window nearby, admiring the ornate cloak and the look of the protective faceplate on his helmet. The way the armor sat on him. The twin emergency knives incorporated into the chestplate and boot. It reminded him of something... “Heh. I always wondered what it would be like to be a Guardian..” He mimed pulling a pistol out and shooting, grinning under his faceplate at the way he looked. The comm was silent, before Tenna asked. “Uh... You’re not a Guardian, Cyrus. You’re some kind of fucked up Ranger that loves technology. Aren’t you?” He flushed with embarassment; he had forgotten to turn the comm off. “Nevermind. It’s just... a memory of an old game I liked. One with high technology, science that seemed like magic, magic that seemed like science, a sleeping god, and wizards from the Moon...” “....Right. You’re gonna have to get me drunk one night and explain whatever the fuck that means to me.” She sent back. He could hear the raised eyebrow in her voice. “Yeah. I will.” He cast one final glance at the mask on his face, under the hood of the cloak. Always wanted to be a Hunter Guardian. Guess I’ll have to settle for this. “You’ll either like it, think it’s weird, or think it’s dumb as hell while I explain it...” “Teleport to Lion’s Arch and I’ll meet you at this dumb bar, okay?” Tenna replied. “Don’t stand me up.” “On my way.” Cyrus replied, tapping a series of buttons under the left cuff of his armor. There was a whoosh-whoomph of imploding air, and he popped out of reality, leaving a quickly dispersing cloud of blackish Mist.

[larkwinters-a]

A party. A god damn party.

They were having a party with drinks and food and music and happy, light chatter. They were having a party with a bunch of little two foot high aliens -- who were even smaller to him -- and they were acting as though they owed Voltron a life debt because their lives had been saved by the big lion-man-robot hybrid. Lark could accept a lot of things, like the little aliens and their weird rituals, and how they wanted to celebrate survival -- he didn’t get that but he wasn’t exactly the right source to come to for that kind of thing -- living in a castle that was about to become a ship and blast off into space so they could go Voltron it up elsewhere and --

Oh, yeah.

They had formed Voltron. The big bipedal lion that was supposed to help them save the universe, the big bipedal lion that was worshipped by the same little aliens who were now throwing them this very same party. Lark supposed it was a big deal, that it truly meant they were a team and that they were now forever bonded, but it didn’t necessarily mean they were any closer to being able to defeat the Galra. They were still working on becoming a better team -- he had elected to ignore whatever bickering his other team members got into after and during and before training, blaming mishaps on each other, and arguing about who did something wrong. It was just a sure sign that they were all still kids.

Truthfully, Lark had been excited about forming Voltron. He had hidden it well, only Black commenting on the giddiness brewing under his skin, and after they had dismantled, putting the lions back into their hanger, had he grabbed Ruby’s hand and pulled her away from the fray, excitedly telling her how happy he was that they had managed it. He had told her that they felt like a team, that they might actually be more than a myth. She was the only one he felt comfortable enough doing that around. 

That, of course, had been ruined by the arrival of a Galra cruiser, a fight with a robot fused with something else, and protecting the little aliens. After all of that, Voltron was beginning to feel more like a job than a legacy to carry on. Voltron was beginning to feel like an obligation more than the fun the others claimed it was.

The little alien people had been so grateful for their saviours, they had elected to throw Voltron a party but no one felt like standing around their tiny village as night fell. Lark had hoped a simple handshake and verbal thank you would have sufficed but then their Altean companions had offered the castle as a place to hold the celebration. That caused his hackles to raise for more than one reason; the first of which was obvious, they were inviting strangers into their home, leaving them vulnerable to attack, and the other was that if they had to leave, form Voltron, then they were leaving the castle occupied by the little things and who knows what that would have entailed. Lark wasn’t too keen on it and he had voiced his concerns over it to their hosts.

(”I’m not sure we should be letting them walk in and out of the castle like this, are you sure it’s a good idea?” he asked Maia, his brow creased with worry. “It doesn’t seem safe.”

“It’s only fair to let them see the castle, it’s been sitting on their planet for so long.” she explained. “They have a right to see it.”

“But who knows when Zarkon will attack again,” Lark countered, easily. “We’re sitting ducks like this.”

She had shook her head, looking slightly bemused.

“You should relax. You’ll live longer.” she said, before flitting off.)

But they had the party anyway. The Arusians had done their many rituals, performing a bad show, that had to be fixed last minute because they had gotten the facts wrong, and it was fun. Lark convinced himself that it was fun, they were having fun, and that it was a nice break from everything they had been doing, that they were getting a well deserved rest. That they were getting the chance to just be kids again, drinking weird alien alcohol and walking around an ancient hi-tech castle with little salamander aliens at their feet. It was fun.

So, why was he so paranoid?

It showed in his posture, how he crossed his arms in a subconscious effort to protect himself from a foe that wasn’t there, how, even when he tried, it didn’t feel right to party. How he couldn’t try the nunvil or any of the food on offer, he felt too sick to try anything. The others seemed relaxed, finding some down time to just chill after a rough week or so. Even Ruby, when he spotted her from across the room, seemed to be having some kind of fun. Which, he was eternally thankful for. If anything good had come from this, then it was that she had had some sort of fun during the whole thing. 

But when the Arusian’s had come to set up, the other paladins had gone to the suit room to get changed, to dress in their more comfier clothes, and when they had asked him if he was coming, Lark had waved them off, letting them go ahead without him. For some reason, he just hadn’t felt safe getting out of the only armour he had, no matter how awkward it felt and looked.

And he knew he hadn’t because he was paranoid, because something was tingling at the back of his head, whispered thoughts that sounded awfully like there’s still Galra out there and you’re not safe. Lark couldn’t let that go, he couldn’t let his guard down because there was reason to believe that his thoughts had concrete proof.

The cruiser had crashed and there was no reason to believe that some Galra on board had survived. They could have been out there, planning on ways to attack the castle, and by letting their guard down, they were making themselves vulnerable. And the last time Lark had let his guard down, he had ended up in prison -- and not the fun earth kind of prison either.

But, he felt bad for hypothetically ruining their fun, so he had said nothing. He had let them celebrate and he kept watch, as subtly as he could from where he was hiding.

Yes, hiding. 

The thing about being a part of Voltron, the big leader of the mech that was going to save the universe, was that everyone here thought that they owed him a personal thank you. Some had caught him, tiny arms grabbing his legs and stopping him from running away as they clasped their hands together in a prayer gesture and expressed how thankful they were. Some had even gone as far as telling him how good he was at leading and at saving their lives and that made Lark extremely uncomfortable. It showed when he awkwardly thanked them back and then fled.

Yeah, he fled like the mess he was, leaving the confused aliens in his wake. They had kept coming after him, kept trying to show him their gratefulness, and on top of that the Arus King was trying to scout him, trying to find him in the crowd and Lark could only imagine how that would go. He wasn’t good to talk to right now, not the best person to speak to, and from what he had heard, the Arusians were passionate.

So, Lark had found a little alcove, hidden away from the bulk of the party, and he had slotted himself in there, hiding. It was cowardly and it wasn’t at all like a leader but it made him feel somewhat safe and from where he was, he could not only watch the party and have a direct line to the front door, but he could also see Ruby. He could see who and what was coming in and out of the party and he was the first line of defence should anything bad come in. Most importantly, he could watch his girlfriend as she enjoyed herself, sipping on the nunvil and talking to Simon and some of the Arusians. 

He had been hiding out there for quite some time when he began to, of all things, get bored. He was surprised to find that he had the capacity for that emotion still but he knew that he could hide from the King, keep watch, and still, somewhat, have some kind of fun. And there was only one person that could make that happen for him.

She was across the room, surrounded by little aliens, a small white and green cup in her hand, and Simon at her side. Lark didn’t feel jealous, not one bit, and he wondered what they were talking about, if they were talking at all. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because he watched Ruby shake some hair from her shoulder, and he felt his heart leap, skip, jump, with love and then he was moving, carefully weaving his way through the crowd, until he reached them. Simon was the first to spot him but Ruby’s eyes were on him the moment Lark put his hand on her back, his fingers running down where her spine lay until he reached her lower back. He smiled warmly at her, if even a little weary. 

“Hey,” he greeted both of them but only looked at Ruby. “Mind if I cut in?”

His soft eyes shifted from Ruby to Simon, so that Simon could give him the only answer Lark would accept in that moment. A small blush had coloured his cheeks, a clear sign that Simon knew why Lark wanted to be alone with Ruby (and also, maybe, why but more intense) and he nodded, the liquid in his cup swirling around with his movements.

“Of course.” he said, flashing them both a small smile, if not a little awkwardly. “I wanna go talk to these funky little alien dudes anyway.”

Lark wasn’t sure who moved first, him or Simon, but his hand moved from Ruby’s back to take her free hand, and then they were moving. He lead her through the crowd, pushing past Arusians and paladins, until they were back to where he had been hiding. And then he kept going, kept walking with her until they were outside, just short of the entrance to the castle. The walkway stretched out far in front of them, reaching the horizon in certain perspectives. 

The night was clammy, kind of like a summer night back on earth, but it was a weird kind of clammy. One that wasn’t entire uncomfortable, that was slowly getting cooler as the sky faded from light pink into a deep purple. It reminded Lark of being home, of being with Ruby in the desert, as they watched the sunset, the stars slowly making themselves known, no longer blocked by city lights and pollution. It had been beautiful, almost as beautiful as Ruby herself. This time was no exception. 

And once out there, Lark had dropped Ruby’s hand, only to take her waist in both of him. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss, just a short and quick one, but it was enough. When he pulled back, he smiled down softly at her.

“Hi.” he said, voice light and soft, and a little bashful. 

Her presence was world shattering. He was no longer letting the paranoia dilute his feelings on the evening, he didn’t feel like he had to stand around and wait for trouble to come and get him. With Ruby, he felt safe and free, like he could actually enjoy the night for what it was. She was just that powerful.

“Nice party, huh?” he asked as he moved back. 

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, legs somewhat evenly apart, as though he was still in soldier mode. He cocked his head to the side and watched Ruby for a moment. Something tugged on his heart, a reminder of everything they had gone through and admitted over the past few days. It’d been an honest week, one filled with being truthful and candid with each other, because there was no room for any other way of being now. And it had helped, his nightmares weren’t as terrifying anymore and he could wake up to find her, already awake or also waking up, and they had got a system put in place. A system he didn’t want to break. 

His head dropped down, his eyes looking down at the stone ground beneath his feet. He knew he couldn’t lie about how he felt, not to Ruby, and that if he wanted to deal with these feelings, real or not, then he had to talk about them. When he looked back up at Ruby, he caught the slight cropping of concern in her eyes. Was he that obvious?

Lark gave her a small smile. 

“I’m worried.” he admitted, not a moment later.

It was definitely stating the obvious. Ruby could see through him like glass, right into his head, how he worked and ticked. He didn’t hide from her now, actively made a choice not to. There was no room for that now.

Looking at Ruby, he saw the way the dying light shone against her, making her look more ethereal than he had ever seen her looking. In moments like this, he could understand why he fell for her, why he fell for her so hard and fast. He just shook his head, as if to silently tell her that there wasn’t much she had to be concerned about, regarding him. It was just a new asset of his personality now.

“Maybe I’m just paranoid,” he said, his tongue running along his bottom lip. “But some part of me feels like we shouldn’t be celebrating like this. That there might be something out there that’s just lurking. That maybe we’re giving them the right moment to strike.”

Lark huffed out a breath then, allowing his head to drop down for a moment. He drew in a deep breath, his chest rising under his breastplate, and then he looked over to Ruby once more. Again, he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a crooked smile. Another attempt to reassure her, to let her know that she didn’t have to worry about him too much. 

“Tell me I’m just being paranoid.” he said. “Tell me that I’m just overthinking this.”

His eyebrows raised at her, waiting for her answer. A moment later, he spoke again.

“I’ll believe if it’s you who’s telling me.” he smiled softly. “So, no pressure.”

[redactedrichie]

A Playlist for the End of the World

Anon request: Hi! Can you please write something about Reddie that’s maybe a little angsty?

Based off of this audio (alternate audios considered include: Dancing Queen, Africa, I Wanna Dance With Somebody, Forever Young, and Heaven Is A Place on Earth

Word count: 3781

Summary: It's been a year since the zombie outbreak started, and Eddie and Richie are all that's left of the Loser's club. Eddie's not sure if he can handle it anymore, but Richie's convinced almost anything can be fixed with a little music, an abandoned mall, and a whole lot of terrible dance moves. (aka I wanted to write a zombie au dammit)

Ao3 link here!

“I can’t believe we’re alone, just the two of us.”

A year ago, hearing that phrase might have made Eddie’s heart soar. In his head, he can almost see it: Richie kicking the bedroom door behind him shut and smiling in that dumb way he does with too much teeth. But he loves that dumb smile, and the stupid tilt of his glasses broken one too many times, and the sharpness of his elbows that nudge him constantly just to remind him that he’s there, and the flickering thoughts in his busy eyes that Eddie can see so clearly now that Richie’s standing too close, but not close enough, never close enough. The bass shakes the floor, music muffled beneath the layers of drywall and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. And then Richie is lifting Eddie’s hands, lacing them together as he asks dance with me?

But that was a year ago, before horror movies suddenly became reality in the lumbering forms of the living dead. Before the outbreaks and the quarantines, all the investigations for a cure that led to nothing, and before he packed up everything he thought he needed in a bag and abandoned Derry with his friends at his side. The day they crossed the city limits they shed their title of the Losers and suddenly were nameless survivors; just a bunch of teenagers with dead parents and a desperation to live. The last ones standing.

Maybe he could have still loved hearing that phrase regardless of the dangerous times, but not after the accident in May when they lost Bill. After the day Bev sacrificed herself and Ben couldn’t bear to let her. After Stan couldn’t hold the door anymore. After Mike took the night watch.

So when Richie says, “I can’t believe we’re alone, just the two of us”, it doesn’t sound so romantic anymore.

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles. “Me either.”

It sounds like a death sentence.

They had done their best to bar the doors to the outlet mall they stumbled upon with chairs and discarded wheeled kiosks, but ultimately it was pointless. There had to be dozens of entrances, and it was too much work for the two of them to try and board them all up before something smelled them. After all, those things might already be inside, in addition to the horde that’s been following them at a distance in a ravenous pack. Eddie has slept a collective 10 hours this last week, and his stomach has gone numb with hunger.

Trying to shake off the nagging feeling of being chased, he looks over at Richie—his Richie, who drops his tattered backpack onto the floor and attempts to catch his breath after shoving around the kiosks. He won’t admit it, but Eddie can clearly see the darkness hollowing his eyes, the slight twitch of his gaze as he tries to stay awake, the slouch in his step, the way his flannel caked in someone else’s blood now wears him.

He’s exhausted. Eddie’s exhausted.

We can’t run anymore.

Neither of them ever say it despite thinking it everyday. The outlet mall was the only thing dotting the stretch of highway other than rundown mobile homes that had long been looted and probably swarming with more undead. It was a risk to go in somewhere so big as the mall, but they didn’t have a choice anymore.

We can’t keep running.

“What’d you say?” Richie asks, now crouched down to investigate an upturned vending machine. There’s no food in it, of course. It’s as empty as their backpacks and water bottles have been for the last two days.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, biting his tongue. He didn’t even realize he was thinking out loud.

But Richie stands anyway, looking at him for a long second with a scrunched up look Eddie recognizes from too many nights of being too terrified to even whisper. Richie Tozier may not have many trademark talents, but being able to read Eddie like a book seems to be one of them. Sometimes he hates how he loves the way Richie can see right through him.

Because maybe if he was better at keeping his thoughts hidden, he wouldn’t have to see the moment Richie knows exactly what Eddie had said; the way he nearly caves into himself knowing he can’t think of a good reason to tell Eddie he’s wrong. This mall is a temporary bandaid, and there’s only two options:

See what they can find and keep going, or stay here and….

Richie opens his mouth to say something—probably an awful pun Eddie’s already heard before but will gladly take the distraction of something dumb right now—but then he’s looking past Eddie, eyes narrowed and then blown wide with a mischievous grin betraying the somber tone.

“Give me five minutes,” Richie says, patting Eddie on the cheek as he dashes past him with a surprising amount of energy.

“Wait—!” Eddie barely gets a hold of Richie’s shirt sleeve, “We can’t split up!” He jerks on his wrist, making Richie’s sneakers squeak against the slick linoleum tiles as he skids to a halt, flailing to catch himself from falling by grasping Eddie’s elbows. By inertia or intention, their foreheads bump together, pulling them close enough for Eddie to see the hairline scratches from too close of calls hidden beneath the rim of Richie’s glasses. Like their spirits, the marks scarred over crooked.

“I’ll only be a moment, promise,” Richie reassures, squeezing Eddie’s elbows for gentle emphasis. “Just stay right here, okay?”

Eddie swallows down a reluctant groan as he nods, feeling more than helpless watching Richie vault over the counter marked Security and disappear into a darkened doorway. The paranoid part of his heart wants to call after him, but it’s not worth it. If there really is anyone else inside, he’d only be drawing their attention faster.

Uneasily pulling the sleeves of his varsity jacket down over his hands—no, not his. This is Mike’s. This…was—Eddie takes a few curious steps away from the barricaded doors, making sure to not stray more than fifteen steps away from where Richie disappeared to. The main lights are out, but some shops remain lit by single lamps bordering the doorways indicating that a rare bit of electricity still runs here. But it’s mostly daylight streaming from the skylights that illuminate the scuffed tiles, the darkened department stores with shattered windows and overturned shelves spilling their contents across the floor, and a dormant fountain nestled in front of a pair of frozen escalators leading up to what a nearby sign indicates was the food court.

It’s eerie, almost more uncomfortable than the dumpsters they’ve hid in or the abandoned miles of empty fields they’ve trekked through. There’s something unfathomably unsettling about an abandoned mall: a place normally filled with crowds of people and sounds of laughter and overlapped conversations. His footsteps shouldn’t echo here, but they do. Each one sounds like distant thunder clapping down the dimmed hall blocked from view by the escalators.

He shouldn’t feel safer being uncomfortable, but he does.

It means nothing’s here yet.

“Gooooood afternoon to everyone named Eddie, Eds, and Edward Kaspbrak. This is your DJ coming in live with exclusively today’s greatest hits”

Oh, fucking hell—Eddie flinches hard at the crackle of static and the sudden boom of Richie’s voice amplified over the somehow active speakers. It bounces down the vacant halls and calls back at him, muffled and distant and everywhere. If somethings are in here and didn’t know about them taking shelter here yet, they certainly do now.

Eddie might just murder Richie goddamn Tozier himself.

“Today’s playlist, composed by yours truly, may sound redundant at first, and to that I’d like to say: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…also, there’s only, like, three tracks in here that aren’t ruined, and I’m not about to blast music from someone named Meatloaf.”

Eddie’s head swivels back and forth like a pendulum, squinting into every window front he can to see if anything is awoken by Richie’s charade. Nothing seems to be moving; only graffiti’d and knocked over mannequins look back at him.

But the rest of the mall could be very, very alive just out of view.

“So grab a dance partner—particularly a handsome one with sick moves and wearing a Journey shirt—because I think you’ll find this track very familiar.”

With another sickeningly loud crackle of static, the muffled sound of a quick rapt of cymbals and a catchy guitar riff filter through the speakers, nearly bringing a grin to Eddie’s face as the keyboard chords come in. Everybody Wants To Rule the World, of course. It was the song he and Richie played every Friday morning on the car ride to school, and always requested anytime they ended up somewhere with a DJ or jukebox. It sounded like the old times, the good times, the days where his biggest worry was if anyone saw him blatantly staring at Richie across the lunch table.

It sounds like his life flashing right before his eyes.

“What’re you just standing there for?” Richie calls behind him, swinging himself back over the counter and sashaying his way over to Eddie with that dopey grin of his. “Don’t tell me you’re too tired to dance with me!”

“Shut up!” Eddie instinctively hushes, planting his hands over Richie’s motor mouth. “Turn this off, Richie, something could hear us!”

Completely disregarding Eddie’s alarm at the situation, Richie pries Eddie’s hands away with an impish wink, “Too late baby, I put it on repeat.” Ducking and twirling under the crook of their joined arms with a flourish, Richie backpedals towards the fountain and motions for Eddie to follow with two fingers. His head bobs to the beat, not even bothering to look around at anything but Eddie.

Dread gathers like a thick knot inside Eddie’s chest as he watches Richie hop up onto the fountain’s edge. He hasn’t needed to tell Richie to lower his voice in months. They both know better. He can’t have just forgotten something so crucial to their survival all of a sudden; no, Richie is curious, but not careless. He’s ignoring the rules on purpose.

“Welcome to your life—”

Richie’s not running.

“—there’s no turning back.”

Eddie scoops Richie’s backpack off the ground, digging with shaky hands for the flashlight hidden in one of the pockets. He refuses to be ambushed due to Richie being caught up in nostalgia, masking his fear with irritation and a middle finger as he trudges past Richie’s mindless dancing.

Of course, Richie simply follows along, determined to keep up his serenade. He jumps into the water with both feet to send a small tidal wave spilling up and over the edges, prancing across the fountain in noisy splashes all the while still singing along in off-key passion. His sneakers are even louder now against the tile floor as he jumps out and swings around Eddie in circles, poking and prodding at Eddie’s tense shoulders.  “—ac-ting on your best be-hay-vur, turn” poke “your” poke “back” poke “on muh-ther nay-chure.”

He grabs Eddie’s arm that’s holding onto the flashlight, swinging it up under Richie’s chin like a microphone, “Ev-‘ry-bo-dy wants to rule the world.”

Eddie jerks his arm away as Richie obnoxiously tries to sing the guitar part as well, turning his attention back towards one of the side hallways that the skylights can’t reach. From what he can make out from his minimal flashlight beam, most of the stores are boarded up. Whether it’s to keep people in or out, he’ll take it over a waiting, hungry horde.

Noticing the absence at his side, he glances back: Richie is doing an impeccable Breakfast Club dance montage rendition in the middle of the main hall, using the skylights as a spotlight for the awkward grace of his one-man show. He’s as coordinated as a giraffe on ice, but he looks carefree under the halo of sunlight. He looks like he did a long time ago.

No, not a long time ago. Just a year ago. It was only a year ago that my friends were alive. It was only a single year ago that we were having stupid arguments over who was the designated driver and where we’d all be going off to college, when only Stan and I were actually paying attention to the CDC press conferences, when—

Eddie shakes ghosts out of his head, trying not to let the memory stick and distract him. Distraction is a silent killer, and he tries to only focus on the sound of glass crunching under his worn All-Stars as he takes cautious steps over the threshold of a department store, shining his light back and forth across abandoned cash registers and displays for shattered perfume bottles. It’d be dangerous going in somewhere so dark, but maybe there’s stuff left untouched that he could—

“Eds!”

Jesus fucking—“What, Richie?” Richie’s hands are on his waist before Eddie even has a chance to turn, getting dragged backwards away from the store against his will. He drops the flashlight in surprise, watching it bounce and roll under a bench.  

“C’mon, dance with me,” Richie coaxes. He tries to make the smaller boy rock back and forth with the rhythm, not even flinching when Eddie shoves his hands away with an aggravated scoff. But he doesn’t let him turn back to investigate the department store, instead intertwining their hands and skipping backwards into the main hall, pulling them back the way they came.

Above them, the song repeats with the familiar trill of synth.

Eddie begrudgingly lets himself be pulled along as Richie swings their arms together, wincing at the blanket of static playing under the music. Everything is so loud and he can’t hear over the grainy speakers for that trademark low groan of lumbering bodies, the terrible scrape of limbs against the tile, the excited growl once they spot their prey and oh god he can practically feel the hot breath on the back of his neck now. The longer they stand around dancing and letting this damn song act as a beacon for the undead, the less time he has to…

What?

The realization that he isn’t searching for an escape route halts him in place, nearly dragging Richie down from his poor attempt at moonwalking. There are exit doors at the end of every hall, and they could easily take any one of them and put this mall far behind them. But he doesn’t turn towards any of them, and he knows he isn’t going to. The thought of going outside, of going one more damn mile, feels like a bullet to the head.

Where am I going?

“Where are we going?” Eddie asks. It comes out less as a question and more of a demand.

“Help me to decideee,” Richie sings along with lyrics instead of answering, snapping his fingers in time and shifting his weight from heel to heel with a pop of his hips. “Help me make the—” He throws an arm around Eddie’s tensed shoulders, forcing him into a makeshift tango as they near the escalators again. Laughing into Eddie’s hair, he twirls them around once before lifting Eddie up and onto the motionless handrails.

“I’m being serious,” Eddie sighs, biting his lip from a traitorous grin appearing. Gnawing terror is still clawing its way up his throat, but for just a wonderful second, all he can think about is Richie ridiculously shimmying his shoulders and throwing out jazz hands. He watches him try to pop up onto his toes like Michael Jackson, but quickly loses his balance and topples forward with enough pride to pretend like he did it on purpose to dramatically drape over the railing. Despite it all, Eddie is bursting out laughing like he hasn’t let himself in months, knowing Richie’s been trying to perfect that move for years. Somehow, he’s still no good at it.

“Everybody wants to rule the world.”

Richie marches past him up the escalator, grabbing Eddie’s hand as he takes the steps two at a time. He scrambles to keep up, too focused on his footing and the back of Richie’s head to be apprehensive about what might be waiting in the food court until they’ve already reached the top. The actual restaurants themselves are barred shut, leaving a dismal collection of overturned chairs and empty tables littered across the floor. It doesn’t take long for Eddie to notice that the escalators are the only way in and out.

As he’s caught up in surveying the area, Richie tugs the backpack from his shoulders, unceremoniously chucking it back down the escalator as if it didn’t hold their last handful of glow sticks.

“Richie!” Eddie protests louder than he intends to, feet already whirling around to go retrieve the bag. But Richie’s hands are cupping his face faster than he can move, pulling their foreheads in close again as Richie hums the fading chorus. His face is calm, an amused smirk pulling at his lips as Eddie fights off confusion. Richie is keeping him on his toes—both literally and figuratively—and always keeping Eddie facing forward. The blaring music and his apathy for how loud he’s being betrays every rule they’ve set, and he’s laughing at Eddie’s wrinkled expression.

A year ago, it would have made Eddie’s heart melt. He would have tugged his head down by his curls and lovingly called him an idiot, blissfully letting Richie be his favorite distraction.

But that was then. Now, it’s all wrong.

“Richie…” Eddie whispers, hands coming up to clench at Richie’s sleeves to still his trembling fingers. He wants to be wrong. Please let me be wrong. “…what’s behind me?”

And there it is.

It’s a fleeting moment that he nearly misses from Richie’s thrown-off fluttering eyelids, but the temporary look of panic taints Richie’s cheek-bruising smile just long enough for Eddie to know exactly what he was terrified of.  “Those things are down there, aren’t they?” He manages a thankful, weak smile. “You’ve been trying to avoid letting me see them.”

Above them, the song restarts again.

Richie bites his lip, confirming Eddie’s suspicions. His resulting laugh is short, dark as he taps Eddie’s cheek with his thumb. “Ah, I should’ve known. You’re far too clever for me, my boy.” But then he’s dropping down to one knee, brushing kisses to Eddie’s knuckles like a gentleman. “Now will you dance with me?”

Eddie backs out of his grip, arms thrown out in exasperation that Richie’s in denial and keeping up his theatrics. “What are we even doing up here? There’s only one exit, we’re cornering ourselves!”

Richie rises back up to his feet, removing the distance between them and looking terrifying neutral. Like someone trying to soften the blow. “Eds, you know why.”

“I don’t,” Eddie lies.

“You said it yourself, we can’t keep running.”

“I know, but… it scares me knowing you think that too.”

“Why?”

“Because…fuck Richie, it means it’s real.” He averts his gaze towards their shoes, unable to handle the pitied look Richie’s giving him. “B-because it means…it—” His words turn into a strangled sound, unable to force the words out and admit defeat; to admit they’ve given up after a year of fighting to stay alive and watching their friends die to protect each other.

He can’t say it. He can’t bring himself even open his mouth. So he’s grateful when Richie’s gently lifting up his chin, brave enough to admit it: “It’s okay, Eddie, I’ve got you. You’ve been stronger than me for so long, always being the one keeping us moving forward. But we don’t have to run anymore. We can just sway.”

Eddie shakes his head furiously. “We can’t.” But even as he says it, he knows that he’s already signed his fate. He knows exactly what Richie is doing. It’s not just a dance, and it’s not just their song.

It’s their swan song, and Richie’s having them sway together toward the finale instead of crawl.

I love Richie Tozier so fucking much.

“Richie—”

“Don’t say it.” Richie grabs Eddie by the hand again, expression soft as he leads him towards the mess of tables. He uses one of the chairs as a stepping stool—“Holding hands while the world comes tumbling down”—careful to test to see if it can hold his weight before tugging for Eddie to follow along. They haphazardly step from table top to table top, moving themselves towards the center of the room until Richie’s satisfied they found a sturdy enough table to hold them both.

It’s not until Richie’s arms are looping around his shoulders that Eddie nearly loses it. Facing away from the escalators, the fear of knowing that they are probably coming up the stairs now sends his nerves into overdrive. Richie tries rubbing soothing circles in the small of his back, guiding Eddie into his chest. He smells of copper and cold.

“So glad we almost made it”

“Just sway with me,” Richie whispers into his ear. He brings his hands up, covering Eddie’s ears with his palms to shut out all the noise. He can still almost hear the muffled approaching groans and hisses mixed with the keyboard chords over his pulsing heartbeat.

We’re going to die here, Eddie wants to say, but he can’t. There’s no point is wasting his breath on something so blatantly, harshly true. Because if he just sways along, everything fades away other than the familiar warmth of Richie’s hands, and the proximity that he could know is him even with his eyes shut. Nevermind the scabbed hands that start brushing, gripping, pulling now at his ankles as they try to climb. Nevermind the sudden quickness of Richie’s breath against his hair, or the silent tears he feels dripping onto his face. Nevermind the fight to live trying to spur Eddie into running. Nevermind the realization that he’s going to die being dragged away by greedy hands desperate for his flesh.

“Nothing ever lasts forever”

There’s still another minute in the song, he thinks. He suddenly can’t remember how it end, and he knows he’s never going to find out. But there are worse songs to die to, and worse people to dance with. And if he shuts his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s just him and Richie, swaying together in that bedroom while the party raged on below them, tuning out the white noise and clinging to each other like lifelines until the record skips—

[fangirlingtodeath513]

future plans | a continuation of the Coffee Shop Meet-Cute ‘verse

read here on ao3

Dean’s alarm startles them awake, prompting Castiel to whine and roll into his side, hiding his face against Dean’s neck. “Nuh uh.”

Dean laughs softly, brushing his fingers through the man’s hair. “Yeah, I know, I don’t wanna either. But you’ve got lectures and I have to, ya know, run a business.”

Castiel hums as he slides his arm over Dean’s middle, sighing. “I hate it when you’re right. It’s your turn to make breakfast.”

Dean snorts, rubbing his eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s your turn, but I’ll be nice and make it anyway. What do you want?”

Castiel smiles sheepishly at him, kissing his cheek before sitting up. “Scrambled eggs please. Thank you. Love you.”

Dean chuckles, ruffling Cas’s hair gently. “Yeah, love you too. Go shower.”

While his boyfriend of nearly a year and a half showers, Dean pads quietly to their kitchen and sets about making breakfast. He puts together a pot of coffee before grabbing the eggs from the fridge. He makes a big plate of scrambled eggs for both of them, tapping his thumb on the counter before nodding to himself and frying up some bacon as well. Cas comes downstairs just as he finishes frying the bacon, so he hands his boyfriend a mug and motions for him to get himself coffee. Dean sets the plate of bacon on the table, pouring himself a mug of coffee before sitting across the table from Cas. They settle into their morning routine: Castiel reads the news on his phone since, as a political science professor, he needs to stay current, and Dean browses his social media and (a more recent habit) checks his fairly new Winchester Restores email. Dean showers and gets dressed while Cas cleans up breakfast, and they both head to work.

Their life is finally working out. Castiel had been granted tenure just before the start of the spring term, and Dean had finally been able to open his own restoration shop, after saving for it for three years. Cas’s hours had been reduced, since he wasn’t required to teach as many classes as a tenured professor, and Dean essentially makes his own hours, since he’s his own boss and only works on restorations, rather than working in a garage with customers every day. Not to mention, his business was already doing well for a brand new one. It helped that there were no other restoration garages nearby, though Dean likes to think it’s his skill as a restoration artist that attracts people. Today, though, today he’s heading into town rather than to his garage. They’ve been together for a year and a half, and he knows from previous conversations that Cas is interested in getting married at some point, so why not now? Their lives are finally good, their relationship has never been stronger, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s more than ready to make the commitment to having Castiel in his life for the extent of it.

So here he is, heading to a jewelry store. He knows Cas is in class until two thirty, so there’s no risk of him being caught. He pulls the door of the jewelry store open, glancing around and shrinking slightly when he sees a few pairs of eyes looking him over. He probably should’ve dressed a bit nicer for this, but he’s headed to the garage after he finds a ring, so it doesn’t exactly make sense to wear nice clothes if he’s just going to get them dirty. He shakes off the overwhelming feeling of not belonging, stepping up to the counter.

Apparently today is his lucky day, because he gets a girl around his age to help him, and she doesn’t automatically look at him like he’s trash. He knows Cas’s ring size, through a very awkward conversation with Cas’s mother, and he can take a guess at what kind of ring he’d like. Still, though, it takes him three hours to find the perfect one. They don’t have it in stock in Cas’s size, so he agrees to come back on Wednesday to pick it up. He leaves the shop satisfied and heads to his garage to get some work done.

He gets a call on Wednesday telling him that Cas’s ring has arrived, so he picks it up on his lunch break and hides it in the Impala’s glove box behind a few of his old tapes. From there it’s just a waiting game. A fancy dinner isn’t really their thing, so he rules that option out from the beginning. He thinks about going back to the coffee shop they met at, but he’s still a little embarrassed by how they met, so he rules that one out too. Eventually, he settles on just asking whenever the time feels right.

He realizes two weeks later that he really, really didn’t think this through. He has to carry the ring box everywhere, just in case the opportunity presents itself, and he’s more than a little paranoid that Cas will realize that it’s a ring box in his pocket and have the whole surprise ruined for him. He doesn’t have to wait much longer, though, because the opportunity presents itself a week later. They have plans to go out for dinner and drinks with their group of friends, and instead of spending their Saturday doing something productive, they’re snuggled under four different blankets on their couch making their way through their backlog of TV shows. It’s comfortable and warm and despite the fact that they’ve been together for a while, Dean’s heart still jumps when Cas turns to look at him and press a kiss to his cheek. The thought’s barely registered in his mind before he’s extricating himself from the blankets and dropping a kiss to Cas’s head on his way upstairs. He grabs the ring box from his nightstand, pausing the show and standing in front of his boyfriend, holding out a hand. Castiel gives him a funny look but takes his hand nonetheless, raising an eyebrow.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, looking Dean over quickly.

Dean smiles and nods, squeezing Cas’s hand gently. “Everything’s great. I know we have to go out later, but, um… now just feels like the right time, I guess?” Castiel looks confused, and he can’t say he blames the man, cause even he isn’t entirely sure how he wants to ask this. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve been together for a bit and everything’s been so amazing and-”

“Oh god, you’re breaking up with me.” Castiel cuts him off, pulling his hand away with a horrified look on his face. Dean blinks at him, dumbfounded.

“What? Why would you think I was breaking up with you, Cas?”

Castiel squints at him, his head tipping to the side. “You’re not?”

Dean laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, man, of course not. Why would I do that?”

Castiel shrugs, and Dean can see the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He chuckles, taking Cas’s hand again and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Castiel’s chews his lip for a moment before speaking again. “Then what…?”

Dean smiles gently, keeping Cas’s hand in his as he drops to one knee, flicking the ring box open. “The opposite, actually. I know, in the grand scheme of things, we haven’t known each other that long, but I love you and, if you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Castiel stares at him, and Dean can feel his excitement dwindling with each second he doesn’t get an answer. “You… you want to marry me? Why? I’m horrendously messy, I always make you make breakfast, I get way too heated about politics, and I’m pretty sure your mom hates me-”

Dean cuts him off with a snort, rubbing his own face as the relief settles over him. “Dude, no she doesn’t. Every time I call her she asks me when one of us is gonna propose. She practically begged me to marry you the first time she met you.”

Cas’s eyes meet his, and he can see genuine surprise in them. “She… she did?”

Dean chuckles and nods. “Yeah, she did. Seriously, Cas, she loves you. I promise. And all that other stuff? You’re really not that messy, and I like making breakfast for you. It makes you smile, and you know I like to cook anyway. And honestly, watching you get heated about something you care about is kinda hot.”

The blush on Cas’s cheeks darkens, but he can see the small smile tugging at the man’s mouth. “Yes.” He says simply, grinning and wiggling his fingers at Dean. Dean laughs, pulling the ring from its pillow and sliding it on Cas’s finger gently. Castiel hums happily, brushing his thumb over it. “Perfect fit.”

Dean smiles and shrugs. “I may have called your mother.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raise in surprise, flicking up to look at Dean once again. “You called my mother? You’re terrified of my mother.”

Dean shrugs, though apparently now it’s his turn to blush. Cas gently tilts his head up with a single finger under his chin, a shy smile on his face. Dean smiles back, surging forward and capturing Castiel’s lips in a gentle kiss. “I love you.”

Castiel grins, nudging Dean’s side with his elbow. “Love you too. Would you wear a ring?”

Dean smiles softly, shifting to sit back on the couch. “Yeah, I would. Why?”

Castiel chuckles, leaning away from him and rifling through the drawer in the end table before leaning back over and holding out a ring box. “Because I’ve been meaning to ask you the same thing.” Dean grins and lets him slide the ring on his finger.

They make it to dinner half an hour late, but they’re quickly forgiven when Charlie spots their rings. They’ve already called both sets of parents, so they spend the night celebrating with their friends. They make it home shortly before two in the morning, all soft touches and warm smiles. Dean honestly can’t say he’s ever been happier.

Tag list: @harleyquinnisbi @unlikelyteller @spn-destiel-enthusiast

[chandlers-third-nip]

Badass- Imagine

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warning: sexual assault, fluff

Word Count: 1728

Summary: Billy threatens the reader and Steve finds out and wants to protect them.

A/N: This is my first Steve Harrington imagine, let me know if you want a second part of this one or any more.

“I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours okay, babe?” Steve whispered in your ear with his arm wrapped tightly around you. You nod and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You start to pull away when he grabs your hand and smashed his lips to yours. You redden and quickly pull away, embarrassed by all the other people around you that could have seen.

Your relationship wasn’t a secret, you were just not a huge fan of PDA. He chuckled at how shy you were and squeezed you to his chest. “Jonathon is gonna be with you, right?” he asked, concern showing in his eyes.

“Yes, Steve, he’ll be there the whole time, I don't understand why you’re so paranoid, it’s school after hours, no one is gonna be there.”

“I know (Y/N), I just worry about you, what if something happened to you and I wasn’t there?”

“You’re being silly.” You giggle and look around quickly before pecking his lips and turning toward the dark room where you and your best friend, Jonathon Byers, will be developing some photos.

You stood there comparing who's photos turned out better for the better part of two hours. So far, you were winning and Jonathon was not happy about it. “I think I have some more in my car that will bring me smirking across the finish line.” You laughed and snorted, “Okay, Byers you’re on.” He grabbed his keys and left the room, mumbling something about you going down under his breath.

You turned back to your photos and swished them around for a couple more moments. Then you heard the door opening and you began laughing. “Wow, okay Byers, someone is eager to win.” You turn around and gasp when you see that it was not Jonathon who opened the door, but Billy Hargrove, the scary new guy at school.

Billy stepped toward you, “Win? The only thing I wanna win is the school, King Steve needs to be taken down a few notches and what better way than to ruin his girl.” You shrank back, only to hit the cabinet. “Steve is on his way, you should leave before this ends badly for you!” you snarl with all the anger you can muster underneath your fear.

Billy only laughs and continues to advance towards you. “No one except for that freak Byers boy is coming and his car is across the lot, which means that we have plenty of time to chat in here.” He has you cornered and grabs your wrists in his one hand. You squirm and attempt to pull away but he readjusted his grip on your wrists and it becomes impossible. With his free hand, he tangled his fingers in your hair and yanks you closer. “Billy, let go of me! Let go!” you screamed. Billy silences you by sloppily kissing you. You are able to yank one of your arms free in his distraction and slap him across the face. He pulls back and recaptures your wrist in his hand and grips your hip with his free hand tightly.

“You better shut up, you little bitch. If you don’t I’ll kick this shit out of your pretty boy Harrington.” His hot breath wafts in your face and you shrink away nodding, a single tear falling down your cheek. He pushes your hair to the side and attaches his lips to your neck, sucking harshly causing you to whimper your discomfort. His hand on your hip continues to dig into you and you are almost positive they will bruise. As much as you wanted to, you refused to beg him, you will not give him that satisfaction. Before you know it, Billy’s face waves in front of you and he whispers, “See you tomorrow, same time?” before pecking your cheek and disappearing from the room. You sink to the ground your arms clutching your knees tightly to your chest.

Jonathon found you like that, frozen staring off into space with tears slowly making their way down your cheeks. He immediately fell to his knees and lifted your chin. His eyes went to your neck and then he stood up, “Did Steve...did he do this to you?” His fists started clenching and unclenching.

More tears poured out as you shook your head, “No, it was Billy, he said he wanted to take down ‘King Steve’ and he kissed me and threatened that if I told Steve he would hurt him.” Jonathon held out his hand and helped you to your feet, “Let’s go get cleaned up, okay?” he said gently. You leaned into him as he led to you the nearest bathroom and lifted you onto the counter and started to wipe away your tear stains.

“You have to tell him, (Y/N). He’s going to find out anyway,” Jonathon whispered.

“No, and I forbid you to tell him, I am not gonna be one of those girls who goes crying to their boyfriend at the drop of a hat. I can handle Billy.”

“This is not the drop of a hat! He is harassing you! Billy hurt you!” Jonathon nearly shouted.

“This is not your problem, let me deal with this, without Steve!” You stomped out of the bathroom and nearly ran into Steve.

“Hey babe, there you are, I went by the dark room and no one was there.” You smiled half-heartedly and pulled at your collar and your hair to hide the mark Billy had branded on your skin. He didn’t notice and pulled you back toward the dark room to collect your stuff.

ΦΦΦ

As soon as Steve’s car pulled up outside your house, you gather your bag and open the door. “Hey,” he reaches out and touches your knee, which causes you to flinch and pull away. “Are you okay?” his face laced with concern once again. “Yeah, I’m fine, you just startled me is all.” He breaks out into a huge smile and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “See you tomorrow, I love you.” This causes you to smile despite your nerves and nod. “I love you too, Steve.” You get out of the car and turn as he speeds away.

ΦΦΦ

You lay awake looking over your notes for one of your toughest classes when you hear a knock against your window. You jump and tiptoe to your window and pull back the curtains to reveal Steve leaning against your window. “Let me in or I’ll freeze.” You open the window and he pulls himself in and purposefully oversteps so he comes crashing down on top of you. You shriek and fall back on your bed and pull him down on top of you.

“I missed you,” he whispered and nuzzled his face into your neck. Realization dawns on you and you sit up quickly and reach to turn out the lights, hiding your bruise from view. Steve pulls back at this, and asks again for the second time that day, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, “I just don’t want my parents coming up here and seeing you, then we’d both be in trouble.”

“Well since we’re alone in the dark, come here you.” He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. Steve’s fingers touch the marks Billy left on your hip and you suck in air through your clenched teeth. “Did I hurt you?” he gasps and reaches out to turn on the light. You roll away quickly, “No, I’m fine.” but not quick enough before he sees the darkened skin on your torso.

“Who did this to you? Did I do this? Today? When I hugged you?” He immediately starts to tear up, “I never meant...you know I would never hurt you on purpose...how could I do this?” He sits up and rakes his hands through his beautifully styled hair.

“Steve it wasn’t you, I swear.” You say, tears brimming.

“Then who?” he demanded, his fists clenching, just like Jonathon’s. You drew back away from him leaning against the headboard.

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” you whispered. His face softened and he slid across your bed and reached his hand out. You didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Please, (Y/N), baby, tell me who did it.” he whispered. You sighed as more tears fell down.

“Today while me and Jonathon were in the dark room, he left to go get more photos from his car and...that new kid...Billy came in and he wouldn’t let me leave…” you sobbed, hiding your face, “he grabbed my wrists and told me he wanted to dethrone you, and he wanted to ‘ruin me’ and then he...he kissed me.” Steve reached out again and gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“Let me see, it’s okay, I’m not mad anymore, you know I would never hurt you.” he speaks softly to you. You nod and allow him roll up your sleeves and examine the finger shaped marks on your wrists. He kisses them softly in between his murmurings, comforting you. He continues to gently pull on your hand until you lean into him. You bury your head in his chest, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” you cry, “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Shh, baby,” he stroked your hair, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

“ When he kissed me, I managed to break free and slap him-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait babe, you slapped Billy Hargrove? The new kid? Oh my god, I’m dating a badass. They’ll be calling you royalty now.” He shook his head in disbelief, staring at you with such admiration.

You sniffled and looked up at him, “You think so?”

He wiped your tears away and kissed your nose, then both your cheeks, then your mouth. “I know so.”

He swept your hair to the side and glared at the hickey standing out of your neck. You quickly laced your fingers through his and moved your hair to hide it. You pushed him down and and curled up next to Steve. You laid down and he squeezed you tightly, careful to avoid your injury.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispers and kisses your forehead.

“I love you too, Steve.” you smile in the dark and fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms.

Hey guys hope you like this, it’s kinda different!

-flawlessara

[xfilescat]

unbroken (steve harrington x reader)

word count: juuust shy of 2k

warnings: angst, fluff, language! i swear, you guys: in real life i’m SO prim and proper, but for some reason i curse like a frickin’ sailor when i write lmao

preview: “‘Do you think we’ll ever be able to feel like regular people again?’

‘I don’t know. But I do know one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I know that I love you, and I’ll always do everything I can to make you feel safe.’”

A/N: hi friends!!! this is just a little one-shot thingy (set some time after the end of season 2) that i randomly thought of whilst in the middle of writing something else, so i took a break and jotted this down. is jotted the past tense of jot? idk. anyway, sorry this is so short!!! also FORGIVE ME if i sound completely clueless about guns (there’s one mentioned in here) bc i’m very anti-gun (we need gun control NOW) so I don’t know anything about them. had to google “how do guns work? i’m a writer” and now the nsa is probably watching me. it’s fine! nsa, if you’re reading this, i’m literally just a clueless teenage writer. oh and enjoy my story! :) lol what if while i was writing this, the gov’t just broke down my door and took me away? that would be so

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” You’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your fingers shaking as you struggle to wrangle your hair into a tight french braid. You’ve got the handset of your phone jammed between your ear and your shoulder. It’s ringing, ringing, ringing. “Pick up the goddamn phone, Harrington,” you whisper through your teeth. You wait, but you hear nothing. Nothing but more fucking ringing. You finally finish your braid and tie it off, and then you grab the phone and slam it as hard as you can back onto the receiver.

Because of all of the crazy, unbelievable, and traumatizing shit you’ve been through, you and your boyfriend Steve have made each other an unbreakable promise: you call each other every night, no exceptions. No. Exceptions. Before this deal was brokered, you would both lie awake every night worried that the other was in danger, or hurt, or worse. Some might say you two were paranoid. Well, some haven’t been to hell and back. Some haven’t been attacked by literal monsters. Some haven’t watched the person they love almost die—multiple times. It’s not paranoia if the danger is real, so the nightly calls help you both sleep better. You can’t possibly go to bed in peace without hearing Steve’s voice. This is the first night in eight months that he hasn’t answered you on the first ring. So, you think to yourself, you’re going to his house right now. And you’re going to be prepared.

Irrational. Irrational. Irresponsible and irrational. That’s all you can think as you run from your bedroom to your basement, but your brain can’t seem to stop your feet from carrying you directly to your father’s safe under the stairs. You know the code. “For emergencies,” your dad had said when he gave it to you (right after the news about Will Byers’ disappearance spread through town). It’s your mother’s birthday. You’re so keyed up that it takes you four tries to get it open, but once you’re in, you grab the .45 without hesitation. It feels cold, foreign, and wrong in your hand. Good, you think. You would’ve been far more unnerved if it’d felt right.

There’s a glaring flaw in your plan: you don’t know how to shoot a gun. Shoving the pistol into the pocket of your jacket, you speed back to your bedroom (taking great care not to wake your sleeping parents), launch yourself at the phone, and hurriedly dial your best friend’s number. Her dad’s a cop and you know for a fact she’s been to the shooting range with him once or twice. She picks up instantly. “Hey Y/N, what’s up?” You take a deep breath and force a smile that you hope she’ll be able to hear through the phone.

“Heyyy, Grace! So, I’m writing a short story and I have a question for you.”

“Shoot!” You cringe at her remarkably apropos word choice.

“Can you… can you explain how to use a gun? One of my characters uses one and, uh, you know me: total perfectionist. Gotta make my work accurate!”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. You tap your foot anxiously, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. It’s 10:06, four minutes since you last called Steve. A lot of shit can go down in four minutes. Your head starts to spin. She finally responds.

“This is for a short story?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of gun is it? In your story, I mean.”

“It’s a .45.”

She sighs heavily. “There’s a little lever thing on the grip. That’s the safety. Switch it down, aim, and pull the trigger.”

You know she’s suspicious. She doesn’t know anything about what you and the others went through, but she knows you’ve suddenly lost the ability to go anywhere by yourself, you haven’t turned off the lights in your room since last November, and you jump whenever someone shuts their locker a little too hard. She’s probably very scared, and you feel sick with guilt. You can’t think about that right now, though. All you can think about is Steve.

“Gracie, I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting. You know you’re a terrible liar, Y/N/N. Whatever the hell you’re doing, you better be careful.”

“I will be. Don’t worry.”

You hang up, frantically leap to your feet, and grab the first pair of shoes that you see (actually, you just grab the first two shoes you see, which is how you ended up in one black boot and one brown one). You slide open your bedroom window. It’s pitch dark and raining hard outside, so that should make the climb down the drainpipe a whole lot more interesting. Luckily, you make it to the ground with minimal injuries. You rush to your car and reach into your pocket for your— “FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!” You whisper-scream as you realize your pocket contains nothing but your dad’s gun. Suddenly, you remember where your keys are: locked in the fucking car. You did it this afternoon when you got home from school and promptly forgot about it. You absolute IDIOT.

Well, you think to yourself with a humorless chuckle, desperate times call for… throwing a rock through your window. After a quick search, you lift up a sizable stone from the street and lob it as hard as you can at your passenger window. It shatters with an ear-splitting crash. You glance up at your parents’ bedroom window to make sure they didn’t hear, and breathe out in relief when you see that the light’s still off. They’re gonna kill you when they find out, but at this moment, you couldn’t care less. You reach into the car to open the door from the inside, and in your haste, you slice open your forearm on a jagged piece of glass. “God-FUCKING-damn it,” you screech, feeling faint as you watch your jacket sleeve turn dark red. Great! Just great.

Shaking your head, you quickly brush the window shards off the passenger seat, climb inside, and clamber over to the steering wheel. Jamming the keys into the ignition, you stomp on the gas and speed off down the street. Your goal is to cram the fifteen minute drive to Steve’s house into a mere five minutes. You hope that neither the blood loss nor the anxious tears in your eyes ruin that plan.

You’re there in seven minutes. You pull into the driveway and slam hard on the brakes, tires screeching as you come to a jolting halt. Immediately, you pull the gun out of your pocket, stumble out of the car, and run up to the house—oh my god, why are all the lights off?—without bothering to shut off your car’s engine or even close the door. When you reach Steve’s front door, you knock about a million times. Your mind is jumping to horrific conclusions and you’re powerless to stop it. You hold your breath when you hear movement inside. You hold your father’s pistol tighter, going over Grace’s instructions in your head just in case: turn safety off, aim, pull trigger.

Fortunately, you don’t need to use any of that information because your boyfriend opens the door a moment later, his car keys in his hand and a worried look on his face. “Steve,” you choke out, breathing a shuddering sigh of relief. He looks you up and down, eyes widening in concern when he sees the gun in your shaking hand, the blood soaking through your sleeve, and the fact that you’re drenched with rainwater. He knows you well enough to know exactly why you’re here. “Y/N, baby, oh my god, I’m so sorry I didn’t call. This storm’s knocked out all the phone lines and the power on my street. I was just about to drive over to your place.” You don’t say anything. You just drop the gun and throw your arms around him. He pulls you close without hesitation. “Are you okay?” You nod into his chest, mumbling, “I am now.”

He leans back just enough to look into your eyes, leaving his arms around your waist. “Do you wanna tell me why you’re still crying, then?”

“I’m not crying,” you sob.

He breathes a laugh, sitting down on the front step and gently pulling you down with him. You’ve started shivering, and he notices. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says softly before he sprints into the house. He returns in seconds with that thick wool blanket that’s always draped over the back of his living room sofa. He knows it’s your favorite. He drapes it over your shoulders and sits back down next to you. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/N/N.”

He wraps his arm around you and you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I hate living like this,” you whisper. “I hate that this happened to us. I just want to go back to normal. This is—this is too hard.” He tenses. “By ‘this,’ do you mean us? Do you… not want to be together anymore?” You remember that conversation you had a few months ago about how bad Nancy messed him up, how he doubts himself as a boyfriend, how he has a debilitating fear of you not loving him. You sit up straight and tenderly place your hands on either side of his face, staring deep into his eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to be with you, Steve. I love you so much. This isn’t about my feelings for you at all—those will never change.”

Steve nods, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry. I know you love me, I do, and I love you, but I just—” He starts to ramble, so you gently interrupt. “No, it’s okay! God, you’re so sweet. You don’t have anything to apologize for. I know you, I care about you so much, and I’m not going anywhere. Loving you isn’t the thing that’s hard.” You look down. “It’s—it’s living in constant fear that I’m gonna lose you.” Your voice breaks, and he pulls you back into his arms. “Hey, shh. Look at me. Nobody’s losing anybody, okay?” He pauses to kiss you again, slowly and sweetly this time. “I’m not going anywhere, either. Everything that happened, all of the bad stuff, it’s all over. Everybody’s okay. We’re all safe.” You sigh deeply, sinking into his warmth. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to feel like regular people again?”

“I don’t know. But I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I know that I love you, and I’ll always do everything I can to make you feel safe.”

You hug him tighter, and he pulls you onto his lap. You don’t know if he’s right about everything being over, but you know that you’ve never felt safer than you do right here in his arms. After a few minutes of peaceful quiet, he looks down at you. “You wanna stay over tonight? I could take a look at your arm and try to patch it up. Plus, you’re already out of your house.” You smile brightly. “Of course. But no funny business, Harrington. I’ve just had a very rough night.” He sighs in mock-disappointment. “Well, shit! There go my plans.” You giggle, resting your head on his shoulder once more. Another comfortable silence ensues before he speaks up again. “You’re wearing two different shoes.”

“I know.”

“Your car’s still running. And did you… did you smash the window?”

“I know. And yes.”

“You’re gonna have to explain that to me later. Is that how you hurt yourself?”

“I will. And yes.”

“You’re crazy. I love you. Also, you missed a whole section of your hair when you were braiding it.”

“Alright, watch it, Harrington.”

[dontshootmespence]

Without a Hitch

A/N: A request from @milkandcookies528 for a piece where Luke and Spencer are single dads with daughters that go to the same high school. The daughters form a friendship and decide to have some fun. Very AU. Luke is a local detective and Spencer is a professor.

“Oh, this is going to suck.” 

“What’s going to suck?” Apparently, I’d said that out loud, because the girl assigned to the locker next to me spoke without me addressing her. When I turned to face her, she seemed nice - a shining smile, warm brown eyes and beautiful brown skin coming together to practically beg me to introduce myself. However, much like my father, I never introduced myself first.

But I decided to answer her anyway. “Just...you know, starting high school. My dad got made fun of relentlessly in high school, and so did my mother to an extent, so I’m definitely not looking forward to this.”

“My dad got made fun of a little,” she replied. “When he was a teenager, he was really thin for a while, so he got picked on a lot, but it stopped once he went through a growth spurt. I can’t vouch for anyone else in this school, but I won’t make fun of you, and if you stick with me, and I see anyone making fun of you, I’ll kick their asses. My dad’s taught me some stuff.” 

She extended her hand outward and gave my hand a firm shake. “My name’s Sati Alvez.”

“Sati,” I said, “I like that. My name’s Rosalind Reid.”

I was right about walking into my first day of high school. It did suck - for the most part. The only exception was Sati. Through all the teasing, the insane amount of homework and the anxiety of getting into a good college and living up to my parents’ legacy, Sati was there through it all. Thank fuck. Without her, I don’t think I’d make it. 

Freshman year consisted of both of us trying to figure shit out, and by the end, we’d gotten closer than either of us had ever imagined. We were both the daughters of single dads. Her mom was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer a few years back, and mine was taken from me when I was just four years old. One day, my dad came up to me and said that someone had been drinking a “bad drink” and then got behind the wheel of a car. He hit my mother head on and she died on impact. Since that day, I’ve felt guilty about my mom’s death; she’d been going out to grab a new teddy bear for me. The next door neighbor and destroyed my “Bearby” after I’d left him on the lawn for a moment to help a turtle up the curb of the sidewalk. Maybe if I’d paid attention, my bear wouldn’t have been destroyed, my mother wouldn’t have gone out that night and she’d still be alive. All of this I confided in Sati.

Despite both losing our moms, we were close with our dads. 

“My dad needs to go on a date again. He’s miserable,” Sati said, as she closed the lock on her locker two weeks into the start of our sophomore year.

So did Dad. After Mom died, it took nearly five years for him to date again. I was nine when he went out with another woman. It didn’t last long. Everything about her reminded him of Mom and it was too hard. “Mine too. He’s been single for two long. After his last relationship ended two years ago, he hasn’t dated.”

“My dad had a couple of dates with this one guy a while back. Maybe just before we met, but it didn’t last.”

“Your dad’s bi too?”

“Yup!”

All of a sudden I had an idea, and when I looked at Sati, she seemed to have the same one. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked.

“If you’re thinking about trying to set our dads up with each other then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking. We’d be like...super best friends. Sisters!”

Sati’s devious grin always made me happy. She wasn’t Sati if she wasn’t planning something epic. That’s why I loved her so much. “Okay, so how are we going to do this?”

“The dance!”  

Every year there was a father/daughter, basically a parent/child for whoever wasn’t close with their dads. That’s how they’d meet. 

While they both knew of each other (Sati and I had been friends for over a year after all), they’d never been able to meet. Their jobs never allowed it. “Dad, you’re coming with me to the dance this year, right?” I asked later that night, clasping my hands in front of my face and giving him my best pouty lip. “I really wanna go and I don’t blame you for the night classes last year getting in the way, but I’m excited.”

“I’m in. No classes this year,” he said, his eyes softening. “I can’t wait. I’ve got my best tux ready.”

Score. Sati’s dad, Luke, was already committed to taking her, so they were officially going to meet. 

Two weeks later, it was the night of the dance. I was wearing one of my mom’s old dresses. My dad cried. He had a corsage for me. It was a little cheesy, but he was so happy with it that I wore it anyway. Turned out Sati got one from her dad too. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Luke said, extending his hand toward my dad. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You too,” Dad replied. “I’m sorry it took us so long to finally meet. Our girls have been attached at the hip for more than a year.”

Although it was a dance for parents and their children, Sati and I did our best to be absent from the room for various reasons so they could get to know each other. “They’re talking,” I whispered. 

Sati clapped excitedly. “Can you read lips? What are they saying?”

“I have no fucking clue, but they look happy. They’re both smiling.”

Apparently, they’d both had a good time because a week later Luke approached Sati and my dad approached me asking if we were comfortable if they went on a date. Both of us tried to play it off like this wasn’t the plan all along, but I sensed my dad wasn’t fooled. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He was smiling at the prospect of a date. That’s all I cared about. 

“I haven’t been on a date in years,” Dad said. “What do I wear? What do I do? Rosalind, you have to help me.”

“Can I pick out your clothes?! Where are you going?”

“That Italian place on Eighth Street. And yes, please, you know I can’t dress myself if I’m not going to work.” It was true. He looked like a giant man-child when he wasn’t at work. I needed to put together an outfit that reflected his personality while still making a good impression. “When’s the date?”

“Tomorrow.”

Clapping excitedly, I ran into his bedroom and opened the closet. “Okay. Here’s what you’re going to wear.” I had a knack for clothes. I was considering going to design school. “Bad science pun t-shirt, navy blue blazer, a pair of dark wash jeans, and your converse. It’s perfect. Put together, yet casual, and still showing Sati’s dad that you are an enormous nerd.”

“Right back at you,” he said, pointing at my shirt. 

It was a Star Wars Christmas shirt that said ‘I find your lack of cheer disturbing,’ so he had me there. “Touché.” I could just picture how Sati was reacting to being asked about her dad going on a date with mine.

“No freakin way! Really? Oh my god, dad, that would be more than cool. You deserve to be happy and her dad has to be amazing because Ros is amazing, so...win-win.”

Luke’s dimples perfectly framed his face as he smiled. “Okay, good. He seems like a good guy and I haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“Almost a year and a half dad,” she laughed. “Where are you going? When is the date? What are you wearing?”

“The Italian place on Eighth, tomorrow, and oh shit, I don’t know.” With a panicked look in his eyes, he turned towards his bedroom and Sati followed closely behind. 

Opening the closet, she stood there in awe. “Dad, you’re closet is a fucking mess.”

“Do you kiss your father with that mouth?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling as she stood up on her tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Here we go.” Sati walked into the closet, which was a considerable size given he was the only one using it, and searched around for a pair of relaxed yet stylish jeans. “These jeans. Red t-shirt. Black blazer. And...what are your most comfortable shoes?”

“My flip flops.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He asked.

Sati turned around and smiled. “You may be wearing it but it’s my outfit and you’re not ruining it with those nasty flip flops. Here,” she said, leaning down to the floor to grab a pair of black shoes that were somewhere between casual sneakers and dress shoes, “Wear these. And your watch. My outfit is complete. And you and Rosalind’s dad are gonna have a great time. He’s really shy and sweet. Super smart too. He seems like a nice guy.”

“This feels backward,” he said, glancing between the clothes and his daughter. “I feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to be preparing you for a date.”

“I’m gonna focus on school for a while,” she said. Boys and girls were the furthest things from her mind right now. 

“That makes me feel better,” Luke laughed. “Alright, this seems like a good outfit. Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Anytime dad.”

Date day came quickly.

“Dad, you ready to go? You’re going to be late. You wanna make a good impression right?” I laughed.

He stumbled out of his room dressed in the outfit I picked out. Good old paranoid dad was smoothing the wrinkles out of shirt; he must’ve asked me 18 times if he looked alright. “Dad, you look great. Luke is going to love you, but you have to make it to the date.”

“What about your homework?”

“I did it.”

“And dinner?”

“I ordered myself a pizza.” As if on cue, the pizza guy arrived with my food, which was a good thing because I’m positive the next thing out of his mouth was going to be that he didn’t want me answering the door for a grown man when I was home alone. “Thanks so much,” I said, turning around. “All set. Now go.”

As he walked out, I not-so-sneakily peeked out the window to watch him drive away. He smiled at his reflection in the review mirror.

R: Dad just left. He looked exited. 

S: Mine left a few minutes ago. I said he was going to be early but he didn’t seem to care. I think he was a little excited too.

R: I think our plan worked perfectly if I do say so myself.

S: It went off without a hitch.

@unstoppableangel8 @coveofmemories @jamiemelyn @sexualemobitch @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @rmmalta @lukeassmanalvez @reddie-for-mileven

[sending-the-message]

I've been wandering through Aokigahara Forest, where bodies hang all year long by Ra1n_Walker

Hi guys. This is going to be long, because I'll just be as thorough as possible. I don't think leaving out details will contribute to the story, so bear with me. Or don't… I was wondering how many of you are aware of the existence of this forest. The Sea of Trees, as they like to call it, or, on a less brighter note; Suicide Forest.

I have a mildly unhealthy obsession for the obscure and unsolved mysteries, which often leads me to venture to lost and forgotten places. Abandoned asylums, hotels, evil looking buildings. I love to scour the internet for strange occurences and events that seem to involve anything going from ghosts to murderers or aliens. People will believe anything to feel excitement.

I wouldn't call myself a believer. In fact, I think it's funny how people can get all serious and worked up about some weird theory that sounds creepy, but has not the slightest proof or link to a plausible explanation. What I do believe in is that people have a tendency to do some really fucked up things. Guess everyone knows to what extent, but the real atrocities are preferably kept a bit further in our daily lives and rather not thought of.

It litterally turns me on. I can get goosebumps hearing about gruesome scenes, imagining someone's pain or finding truly disturbing things. The 'this-song-makes-me-wanna-cry' type of goosebumps. I can't ever get enough. So I heard of this forest and read about it on the web. Reddit also has some accounts on this and there's even a few movies based on its reputation and stories (which I haven't seen yet as I don't want to ruin the experience) so it really isn't hard getting a bit educated about it. I had to fricking go there.

So that was that, and I was off to Japan only about a month later. I always thought Mount Fuji might be worth seeing and I definitely had a strong passion for the Japanese culture. And their anime and manga, obviously. Being on a plane towards my long awaited destination, I had enough time to go through the available information and read up on the forest. I probably read it all already, being the special person that I am, but it amused me. 

It definitely was a cool mystery anyway. The 'facts' were often disturbing and the assumptions made around the place were even more so. There's a few of those that really stuck with me that I think are thought provoking or at the very least interesting. I read about a lot of aspects. Locals would believe they could pin point the exact type of visitor to the woods.

There were the ones trying to snap pictures of Mount Fuji and its impressive base and flora around it. Some would go in there and hope to find something dark or scary. Thrillseekers if you will. And then there's the obvious type, the type that make the forest famous; the suicidals that don't plan on coming back out. What the fuck

The thing that struck me when I first heard about it is that it would have to be littered with corpses, seeing as over 75 people were found every year. Most of them hanged. They even reached over a hundred victims a few years back and decided to stop reveiling numbers to avoid making it more popular, thus resulting in more suicides. So yeah, there's a fricking cleanup crew. Every year locals search the forest for bodies or what's left of them.

According to what I'd read, they would drag decomposed bodies or parts of them, skeletons and personal belongings scattered around the sea of trees back to some kind of room where they'd store them. There's accounts of people staying in a room with the bodies, because according to local folklore, it would mean bad luck to leave those  alone.

I landed after a long flight and needed a good night's rest. I always admired people who were able to sleep on a plane, I was too nervous to achieve that. I'd never been too keen on flying and this time was no different. It felt good to get out of that bird. I called a cab and made my way to my hotel, about an hour drive from Shizuoka airport. I would've loved to chat with the driver and learn more than I already knew, but guess what. The dude didn't speak one word of English. 

"Yessir."

Good talk...

I dozed off in the car, face against the window and coat over my head to block out the light of the evening that still shone bright. When I woke up, the cab had stopped and I was in... Shimizu? My Japanese was about as good as the cab driver's English, so I didn't bother even trying to ask. I got out, stepped inside the hotel and was pointed to my room. I stayed there the whole evening to fall asleep quickly. Next day; alarm at 6am, breakfast with some documents and brochures to re-check my way to Aokigahara and what to look out for.

After speaking with the hotel clerk, whose English was good enough to be able to make out key words. It only took me half an hour before being on a train towards Mount Fuji. Shizuoka airport was about 80 miles from Aokigahara  and I was about half way going from where I was right then. An hour drive before getting there and I had to walk quite a bit before arriving at the area I was trying to get to, after even taking an extra bus.

And that's when I finally got to the place I had been looking forward to for the last weeks. I had Mount Fuji looking over me from the distance, like a titan contemplating the world beneath, and the forest of Aokigahara in front of me. The Sea of Trees. Suicide Forest... I was standing at the beginning of a path that lead into the woods. The path seemed to be an easy one to follow, it was clearly maintained regularly and countless footsteps were printed in the slightly muddy trail. Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, I took off hoping for adventure.

The path continued for much further than I had imagined and started twisting and turning the more I got into the forest. I knew it stretched about 13 miles and I wasn't helpless at all when it comes to navigating. I know how to use a compass and I have a good sense of awareness, so I never worried once. I just thought it was a bit weird that people tried to maintain this, as if they were trying to shake the woods' reputation and attract more tourists and less suicidals.

I have to say, after an hour or so, my surroundings felt a bit darker, a bit scarier if you will. One of the reasons for this is that there were multiple ways to go from the main trail. Dozens of paths leading deeper through the trees that were everywhere. I mean it's a forest, but goddamn this forest was dense. A lot of those paths were marked with a sign or a carving in a tree. Messages saying things I couldn't read, others in English saying life is precious and I shouldn't give in, a plea to return to the town and talk to someone... They really tried hard to stop you from killing yourself. Those signs were well intended, but I couldn't help thinking this shit was spooky and so out of place.

Honestly, it was creepy, but nothing I couldn't handle and definitely not enough to satisfy my need for excitement and adventure. I noticed more turns and twists in the trail I was following and I looked behind me on a few occasions just to make sure I kept my bearings. Plus, I was slowly getting a bit paranoid. The forest got darker the more I ventured in and I thought I heard footsteps every so often. Don't get me wrong, I love this. But yeah, shit gets scary when you go looking for it.

At one point, I decided I'd take a break and drink some water while checking the compass, just to be sure. And of course, my compass was acting up and desperately looking for north, while I looked at it and sighed. No biggie, I just have to turn around and follow the trail back, should I want to leave. Problem is, I turned around to find myself standing on an intersection. I had three possible directions to go and I doubted a little when wondering which one I came from. I couldn't remember seeing any paths starting from the one I was walking until then and I felt a lot less confident all of a sudden.

Shit

I was used to the feeling of panic rising and that was also part of the thrill I wanted to find every time I went looking for it. So I took some time to take in my surroundings and thought about what to do now. I hadn't seen anything really exciting so far and I was slowly doubting to go back. But the day wasn't over and I was dedicated to my trip. So I looked up to see if I could see the sun's position and nearly screamed like a girl. The foliage was way too dense to see through, only a small amount of light pierced through the canopy. But hanging practically right above me was a little girl, eyes missing and legs bitten off to the knees. Her head was hanging down rested on her chest and I gagged.

I jumped back and fell down, tripping over and hurting my wrist in the process. I cursed at myself while looking at the grim scene before me, but I can't say I wasn't excited. THIS was the thrill I liked and I was proud of myself for getting where I was trying to get, the small border between adrenaline and madness or insanity. But when you're looking at a dead body of a hanged little girl, there's some things you don't expect/want to happen, because you might just get a heart attack like I almost did.

"Hoshi."

Guys. No shit. I sharted then and there and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. It was the voice of a little girl that sounded like she was playing with her dolls or having an imaginary tea-party. Except she was having it in the middle of a dark forest all alone with a dead girl as a view... It came from right behind me and I turned around with eyes wide open and a scream ready to escape my mouth. There was no one there and I started to feel watched and incredibly nervous. I could hear rustling from behind me and I prayed. I wasn't superstitious, but I think I knew what was coming. I turned around and felt myself turn pale.

"We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

The girl was still hanging in the trees when she said it and her empty eye sockets seemed to be shimmering in the dim light. Her mouth didn't move, but her head was straight up and looking forward, completely immobile. It was the most unsettling thing I'd ever experienced and I honestly stood there nailed to the ground, unable to think or move. I didn't understand the first word I heard coming from behind me, but what she was repeating now was so chaotic and abnormal that it scared the living shit out of me.

I stepped back even more and rubbed my eyes, hoping I was dreaming (which I definitely wasn't) and I tried to set my mind straight.

""We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

This time it was MUCH louder and coming from much closer and I felt my heart pumping in my head, scared to open my eyes. When I did, I could've cried. The girl was now standing a few feet in front of me, pieces of flesh dragging behind her while her legs, or what was left of them, carried her lifeless body towards me. Saying the same thing over and over again with the rope still tied around her neck, tight.

I stood there watching her, never blinking. She was really frightening with her deep empty eye sockets, her mutilated body and the fact that she was so little. Despite all of that, the sensation of fear and the desire to run became less urgent. I started feeling more sad than scared. A girl that age committing suicide was just above me, it blew my mind and I couldn't shake the feeling this was wrong. Well, of course it was, but isn't it more than just weird to see such a young child here? I looked up and saw the rope going from her neck towards the canopy and realized what was bothering me that much. How the fucking fuck does that rope even get there.

Not kidding, the trees were high. Like, really high. You'd have to use machinery to get all the way up or be a damn good climber and I couldn't for the life of me picture this kid doing that. It was so high up I couldn't even exactly see where it was attached and when I looked back at her, she was holding out her hand as to motion me to grab it. I reluctently took a step forward and held out my hand, watching her getting closer.

Before I continue; what would you do?

Seriously. I'm nearly 30 years old, I'm the biggest horror fan I can think of and I have a tendency to question everything that doesn't have a reasonable explanation. So, what would you do?

I stood there watching her as she stopped in place and looked right back at me with those black, hollow eyes. Despite the obvious fucked-upness of the whole situation, I just couldn't shake the feeling I was having. Unable to explain it, I'd have to go with sheer empathy… This girl had to be, what? Six? Seven years old? I'm not a pro, so ten probably would've done it as well, but you get it. No kid this young should be thinking about suicide, nor should a girl this young be here in a forest so dark and dense you can't hear any birds or other animals. I only heard the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves as I looked at the first person I encountered in these woods; a girl that was so young and looked so innocent that I got sick thinking about the undeniable fact she was here. In these woods that carried its name so clearly and casually, forgotten forever.

"Hoshi."

That word snapped me back to my senses instantly and made me feel like I lost something that I never had. Who the fuck leaves a kid in here, or who the fucking fuck makes a kid feel so bad that it makes her ending up here with a rope around its neck in the Aokigahara forest? Or where the fuck ever. So I don't know what you would do, but tears were almost running down my face when I practically lunged forward and grabbed her hand as firmly as I could.

I guess the world stopped

I was somewhere else, feeling like someone else and thinking like someone else. I was afraid.

If only…

I was scared as I had never been before. The world around me was pitch black and I couldn't hear anything but my frantic screams and the drumming of my blood pumping in my brain, making me feel like I was going to explode. The feeling I had persisted until a loud bang made me jump up and nearly gave me a heart attack.

My blindfold was taken away and the light that attacked my face stung like a thousand wasps. The smack on my jaw made sure I wasn't distracted by the stinging of the air in my nostrils and also made me open my burning blue eyes to watch what was causing me to feel like this.

The guy I was watching looked far too happy to be sane.

I was sitting down in a corner of a room, hands tied behind my back to a chain that was attached to a radiator, the only thing in the room besides me. My wrists were on fire and I saw my little feet twisting in front of me as I cowarded backwards against the wall, trying to escape his filthy hands. The knife in his right hand was all the more threatening when he grabbed my neck with his left and started applying pressure.

Panic, fear, anger, loss, despair. Those are but a fraction of the emotions flooding me at that time and I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe the rest of them. As if the lack of oxygen wasn't enough, the pressure on my neck felt like it was going to make it snap and the fact that my legs were everywhere and arms flailing made sure to make me lose all hope. The world went dark with the last image of a lunatic smiling at me as I drew my last breath.

Then I woke up

I was in the middle of the forest at an intersection and it didn't take me more than a few seconds to realize I was right where I was before I started dreaming. Panicked, I turned to look around me and above me, only to see I was alone in the woods. But the fucking rope was there. Right in front of me, where the girl had been standing, there was a rope on the ground heading deeper into the woods.

Safe to say everything was already fucked up and I didn't even think straight when I bent over to grab it and started following it into the forest.

Stay. The fuck. Out of there.

Guys, I followed it and walked for an hour (approximately) and from the very first minute I was surrounded by a sea. Not of trees, but bodies. Kids hanging from trees, some mutilated, some unharmed as if they were sleeping. Others decomposed to almost nothing but bones, fallen down as their ropes were still ominously hanging from the invisible canopy… it kept going for as long as I was. When I got to the end of the rope and thought I'd shed every tear and consumed all the fear that was hidden inside me, I was standing in the middle of a clearing and looking at a guy.

An asian guy standing by some kind of enormous plastic bag and hoisting something up in the trees with a rope. I started shivering and I felt like all power was taken away from me when I saw an arm sticking out if the bag. The boy he was hanging couldn't have been older than five and the fact I was watching this as if I'd be watching a street musician suddenly put me in a mood I hadn't yet been in.

Tears running down my face and legs unable to take a step in whatever direction, I felt a hand grabbing a hold of mine. The little girl, the one I could watch now without being scared, the one that showed me and asked for help was standing next to me. Although they were blue, she didn't have eyes, but her smile was worth a thousand words.

What happened next took five minutes at the most.

I anonymously notified the police when I found my way back out of the forest almost a full day later and I went back home immediately. I know that nobody there likes to talk about the reputation of the forest and I know that other things have been covered up, so I have no way of knowing what happened or if anything got done.

Don't fucking touch children, because I might be the last thing you see. I looked up what she said -hoshi- and I guess she meant hoshii… I'm not Japanese so I might be wrong, but I believe she wanted/needed someone to help her