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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 4 months ago

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It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust. So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were, but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not.

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head.

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#supernatural #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom

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theivorybilledwoodpecker · 10 months ago

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The Washington Post reported that administration officials informed Congress of the 100 foreign military sales to Israel in a classified briefing. Few details are known of the sales, because keeping each one small meant their contents remained secret, but they are reported to have included precision-guided munitions, small diameter bombs, bunker busters, small arms and other lethal aid. The Arms Export Control Act makes significant exceptions for arms sales to close allies – a limit of $25m for ‘major defense equipment’, defined as big-ticket items that require a lot of research and development, but the limit rises to $100m for other “defense articles” like bombs. “This doesn’t just seem like an attempt to avoid technical compliance with US arms export law, it’s an extremely troubling way to avoid transparency and accountability on a high-profile issue,” Ari Tolany, director of the security assistance monitor at the Centre for International Policy thinktank, said. She added that, in exploiting the loophole, the Biden administration was following the steps of its predecessor. “They’re very much borrowing from the Trump playbook to dodge congressional oversight,” Tolany said. The state department office of the inspector general found that between 2017 and 2019, the Trump administration had made 4,221 below-threshold arms transfers to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, worth an estimated total of $11.2bn.

#palestine #israel #gaza #joe biden #America

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet. Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs. He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell. Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property. You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it. You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you. The man that came today, to trade with Paul. He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat. But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly. “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that. Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off. You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power. The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul. “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away. “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies. Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade. “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him. “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together. “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred. “Sorry, pal— not for sale. But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head. “Her. I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that. “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance. “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos. He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others. You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can. We need to run.”

We. He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you. And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head. “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering. “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you. Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind. It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you. It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building. Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door. You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that. Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick. It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you? You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel. But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that. “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly. “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest. Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it. In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave. And he still did. Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard. “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response. You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said. “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright? I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here. You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own. No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that. You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers. That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most. Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else. Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously. “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me? I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men. Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little. “Of course. Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well.

“You seem tired,” he noticed. “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed. “You hungry? We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously. You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return. It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said. “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise. You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe. That sounded nice. Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it. He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice. You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you. Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t. Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued. Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet. He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then. You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either. You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it. This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said. “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted. “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him. On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it. But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide. Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating. And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either. We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable. “My sons,” he said quietly. “Those are my sons. Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically. “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged. “Everyone lost someone. Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together. “Yeah,” you agreed. “They kinda look like you, in the pictures. You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle. It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that. “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed. Not too long ago. Well… I guess a few months is a while ago. But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there. Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him. “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing. “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds. Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented. “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing. “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no. I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange. Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad. He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned. It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that. Of owning somebody. And, um… that only happened twice. Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly. “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again. I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else. Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe. You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again. When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection. “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head. He sighed. “Alright, well, you should learn. Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied. “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that. “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them. And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you. You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out. Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded. Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling. You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you. But up there? You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone. You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance. Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine. “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned. “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked. “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back. “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively. “The rifle— you can’t shoot that. That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it. And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes. But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was. Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often. And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold. You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement. That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away. Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes. Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.

It had been a long time since someone held you like this. You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you. But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection. You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot. “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted. “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped. "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you. There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off. Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much. But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came. And if he did, what had he been thinking of? He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you. If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you. Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing. You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him. Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it. Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate. He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted. Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down. Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind. But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too. He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway. It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him. And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization. There’s nothing wrong with it, right? Just being here, helping how you can? But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative. It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all. He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him. You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond. It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall. It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual. Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it. You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually. Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could. You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been. But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took. You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals,

Not everything was perfect then. Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with. Someone to trust. You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right? Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes. Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain. He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you. It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it. Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself. And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk. You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods. You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes. Align the sights. Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar. When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck! Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry— oh my god! Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there. Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Why didn’t you say something? But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already. “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice. “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods. Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting. But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this. “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life. “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped. “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll. “Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again. “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him. You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it. You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky. “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little. “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough. Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back. “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said. “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage. You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet. “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged. “It was— sometimes. It was quiet, I’ll tell you that. All I wanted was to escape, back then. Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that. I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I get that. But then how’d you end up in the suburbs? Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened. I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed. “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left. As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words. “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody. I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking. Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly. You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head.

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank. “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid. I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case? A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property. That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch. You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else. “You treat me like a child! Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me! I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you? Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too. “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed. “How long were you there before I heard you? Come on, Emmett— look at me. Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him. “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots. He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly. “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd. “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone. I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile. “I guess I still need someone. I need you. And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again. You shivered, just like you thought you would. “Say it again,” he requested flatly. It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face. “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled. “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest. Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to. Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier. Hungrier. Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt. He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck. “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud. “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that. “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you. Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him. Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin. How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that? “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up. He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you. “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt. He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you. Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once. It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that. It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight. “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all. Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room. “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep. It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more. Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits. You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple. “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop. He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was. “Emmett!” you nearly screamed. “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual. “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this. “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said. Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it. Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something. You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it. It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it. He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you. “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close. "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name. "Emmett, I love you. I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it. You could feel it just in the way he held you.

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in. You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly. “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way. All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier. You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out. “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan. “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl? Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving. But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper. "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again. You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you. You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted. “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley. You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss. “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes. “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be. ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly. “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage. “And we have some time to make up for. God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in. “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #a quiet place emmett x reader #emmett quiet place smut #sorry he has no last name yall lmao #emmett quiet place x reader

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hometoursandotherstuff · 7 months ago

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Who would like to live in the world's largest Doomsday Bunker Community located in Edgemont, ND. (I don't see any neighbors, but there are supposed to be 100s of homes. I guess they're all underground.) This is Lot E 103 Bunker Rd. (not very original). Notice the big E - 103 over the door, so visitors will easily find you. Price for the 1945 bunker is $69,900.

The front door (there is a rear exit somewhere). The Black Hills Army Base was originally built by the Army Corps of Engineers as a fortress to store bombs and munitions, from 1942 to 1967, when the base was completely retired.

I don't know what this is. Maybe some sort of ventilation?

It looks like some of the dirt has sloughed off the building. There're some mounds of dirt to cover it back up.

It's pretty clean inside. All bunkers feature a standard 26.5 foot interior floor width, with lengths of 60 feet and 80 feet, each with a 12.5 foot high ceiling to the top of the interior arch.

This bunker has flooring in place, water hookup and air filtration/blast valves.

There's some sort of trench dug on the right. Each bunker includes a concrete floor and steel blast door, that seals to stop any water, air or gas permeation; air and exhaust ventilation shafts, and a secondary emergency exit.

Lease is owned by Vivos XPoint. (The community organization.) Potential buyer will need to make application and Owner must approve all purchases and leases. They're pretty choosy about who buys them.

The Vivos Community means business.

Vivos says: Away from Riots, Violence, Targets and Submersion Zones. The yellow circles represent Anarchy Zones. This former military base is no longer a target, having been retired since 1967.

It's difficult to capture the enormous scale of Vivos xPoint, nearly 3/4 of the size of Manhattan, NYC. Standing at one end of the complex, you cannot see the furthest bunkers on the horizon.

Massive. Safe. Secure. Isolated.

This is what it could look like.

You must visit the Vivos website. I was fascinated. They have a survival gear shop and you also would want to apply for membership in Vivos.

#bunkers for sale #vivos shelters #survival communities #houses #house tours #home tour #unique homes #survival homes #prepper homes #apocalypse homes

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months ago

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Leon Day

Summary: The reader makes Dean breakfast on Leon Day and explains what the day is. While she has some fun things planned, Dean shares some of his own future plans with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,000ish

Warnings: language, 15x20 finale spoiler (fic takes place post 15x20 though)

A/N: Enjoy!

_______

“Y/N,” said Dean, scratching his head when he came into the kitchen for breakfast. “I haven’t been in a coma lately right?”

“No...why would you ask that?” you said. Dean pointed behind him to the string lights hanging in the hall, colorful lights twinkling along the wall. “Oh that? It’s Leon day.”

“Who’s Leon?” he asked, padding over to his usual stool, yawning and curling into himself. You ruffled his hair and slid a cup of coffee in front of him.

“It’s June 25th. Exactly six months from Christmas,” you said.

“Is it Leon’s birthday?” he asked. “Whoever he is?”

“No silly,” you said, returning your attention to making pancakes.

“Can I have chocolate chips?” he asked. “Please.”

“Uh we’re out of chips but blueberries instead?” you asked, holding up the package.

“That’s fine,” he said, spinning in his seat. “So...lights?”

“Well Leon is Noel backwards and since it’s six months from Christmas it’s kinda like a mini-Christmas day,” you said.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well most people have never heard of a devil’s trap but that’s a thing that exists too,” you said. He hummed and sipped on his coffee, crossing his legs on his seat. He looked younger like that and you smiled, hoping he was in a good mood this morning. “I only decorated a little bit.”

“So it’s like Christmas? I didn’t get you any presents,” he said.

“We don’t have to do presents. It’s more about, doing things together, making cookies, having a nice dinner together. Maybe take a day off from hunting,” you said. You put your back to him and finished with his pancakes, dropping some fresh blueberries on top for him when you were all done. You hummed and slid the plate in front of him, giving him a fork and knife along with a glass of water.

“I uh, actually wanted to talk to you about hunting. Sam and I saw something online,” he said. You sighed and poured more batter into the pan.

“A new case?” you asked, forcing a smile into your voice.

“This big house in Lawrence. Not obnoxiously big but it’s big, big enough for like eight people I’d say,” he said.

“Is it haunted?” you said, watching the batter bubble and begin cooking.

“It’s for sale. We were thinking of buying it. He was gonna talk to Eileen and I said I’d talk to you about it.”

“About…”

“Buying it,” said Dean. You turned and frowned at him, Dean shoveling his second pancake into his mouth. “What?”

“First off, chew. Second, why would you guys buy a house? You’re not suddenly going to become the Property Brothers are you?”

“No silly. The house would be for us. Obviously we’d ward the shit out of it but yeah, house. What do you think?”

“Why would we get a house?” you asked. Dean rolled his eyes and you put the rest of the pancakes on a plate, bringing them over and taking a seat beside him. “Like, is there something wrong with the bunker?”

“Nothing wrong with her. But Jack and Cas are up working in heaven and the world’s not so scary...and I did have a house in heaven when I was there.”

“You still haven’t told me about whatever space time continuum crap you broke in order to be back from the dead.”

“Jack just said it was alright so I’m back and considering you weren’t up in Heaven like we all thought you were, we all decided on a do over. I missed you and I liked that house but I want you in that house with me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...let’s go live in a house and maybe I hunt every once in a while, maybe I run point for some other hunters, if we decide to go that route. Maybe I do something different for work. But I’m also saying, I like waking up and having pancakes and having random holidays and being happy and I can decide to do what I want, for me. I want a warm happy house with my family. You can decorate it for whatever holidays you want if I can have that.”

“We can have that,” you said quietly. You reached over and he already was meeting you there, hugging you with a happy sigh. “You’re really ready to leave all this behind?”

“We can always come visit this place. But I think our family should grow up the way we didn’t get to. We deserve that at the very least.”

“And you said you didn’t get any presents,” you said, holding him tight.

“I may have known you were planning this,” he teased. “I waited a little longer to share the news than I was hoping to but I figured you wouldn’t mind your Leon day present.”

“No, no I don’t,” you said. He kissed you and grinned before he hopped up. He dug around in the pantry and pulled out a bag of peppermint white chocolate chips. “Well now you’re just bragging.”

“I heard we were making cookies,” he said, dropping them on the counter. “Later though. After my yummy breakfast.”

“After your breakfast,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Love you. Best mini Christmas ever.”

“Love you too sweetheart. This Christmas you’ll have a whole house to decorate. Think you can handle that?”

“Absolutely. As long as I get some help?”

“Yeah I think you can swing that,” he said. He kissed your temple and hummed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “So where’s my present in all this? I mean, I got a house and like a life changing decision for you and I got pancakes?”

“You fucking love pancakes,” you said.

“Guilty as charged,” he said.

“I’ll make you them every single day if you want, how’s that sound?”

“Every single day?” he hummed.

“For the next week.” He chuckled and nodded. “Love you.”

“Love you back Dean.”

___________

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x #dean #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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etraytin · 2 months ago

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Emergency Preparedness On A Budget

Hey all, just a reminder that even though many of us are looking at a warmer-than-average winter this year, warm on average does not mean we won't see winter storms! In fact, warm winters can produce some really unusual weather patterns that are even more likely to produce severe storms. The best time to prepare for a winter storm, or any other natural disaster, is well before it happens, ie, right now.

"But wait," you might say, "the economy is stupid and everything is expensive! I'm afraid my survival bunker is just going to have to wait until my lottery numbers come up, which will take awhile because I also can't afford to play the lottery." First off, good job not playing the lottery, and second, preparing for a disaster does not have to be expensive. In fact, if you start early enough, disaster preparedness can be done a few dollars at a time without much of anything in the way of special supplies.

In order to not make a single post that is a billion lines long, I am dividing my advice into a few different posts and will link them together when I am done. The links will be right here: Part 2: Medicine and Power

Food and Water Preparedness

FIrst and most important: food and water. The motto of disaster preparedness is "The first 72 is on you." In a major disaster situation, if the situation has not resolved itself within three days, that's about the amount of time it takes for outside help to get itself organized and start arriving in a meaningful way to a disaster area. Objectively three days is a pretty short period of time, subjectively it is a small eternity if you are not prepared.

Preppers (people who do disaster preparedness as a hobby, to greater and lesser levels of unhingedness) spend a lot of time discussing the best types of food and water prep for long-term storage and/or end of the world scenarios. We are not going to do that. We want cheap, easy, effective preparations that we can ideally do while grocery shopping in a Walmart. The easiest, simplest and cheapest way to do your food prep is this: Buy one or two canned, jarred or tetrapacked (that waxed cardboard box pack) meal items every time you can afford it, then set them aside. Find a little space in a closet, a cupboard, a shelf, whatever, and just keep those foods there until you have three days worth for everyone in your household, including the pets.

"Fine," you might say as you look skeptically at the back of your cupboards, "but that doesn't seem very specific. There are a lot of canned goods out there!" And that is fair! The basic rule of thumb is "Buy something you will eat, ideally without heating it up if necessary, that doesn't require much prep or cleaning." For example, my family is two adults and one adolescent, none of us with major food allergens or aversions. If I were trying for a 72-hour food prep for us on the cheap with no cooking available I'd probably go with six cans of chunky soup, which I get for a dollar each on sale, three small jars of applesauce (smaller jars are better if you have no way to cool food), a box of saltine crackers, three cans of tuna, and a big box of granola bars if I could keep them out of reach of the kiddo long enough.

It's not fancy and it may not provide great long-term nutrition, but it's enough food to keep us alive for three days in a form that will hold in storage for 1-2 years without needing to rotate. Even on a very tight budget you can probably accumulate this much food in a pretty reasonable amount of time (and a lot of it is the sort of thing you might get from a food bank anyway!) For pet food, pack up three days worth of your pet's food, ideally in a glass jar but any sealed container will do, and add any cans of wet food they'd get as well.

Water is another big prepping topic that we're going to go easy-peasy on. You need, at minimum, a gallon of clean water per person per day, plus extra for cleaning and washing. Water is annoying to store and takes a lot of room, so for a quickie 3-day prep, minimizing water use is ideal. If you can scare up enough paper plates, cups and utensils to last you three days, you save ever having to wash dishes. If you can get hold of a pack of wet wipes, you reduce the amount of water for washing your body. If you can bring yourself to pee in the woods or at the very least let urine sit in the toilet unflushed, you save a HUGE amount of water on flushing.

For your water prep, you can use the bit-at-a-time strategy again. Every time you get groceries, try to bring home a gallon or two of purified drinking water. They should be very cheap, usually around 1.25 in my neck of the woods, and they last for awhile. If you have a few extra dollars, buy a flat of bottled water until you have at least three gallon containers and one 12-pack for each human member of your household Tuck them away somewhere out of direct sunlight, and rotate them regularly, taking out an old gallon and flat and replacing them with new every couple of months.

Once you have your basic setup, you can start thinking about getting fancier. There are ways to find things like camp stoves and water filters fairly cheaply, usually by hitting up garage sales or looking in the clearance sporting goods section when camping season is over, but that's basically gravy when compared to just having something to eat.

Next Time: Medicine and Power

#disaster preparation #preparedness #prepping #budget shopping #the first 72 is on you #winter storm #hurricane

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starhvney · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑: 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 & 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐖: paranoia, anxiety, physical violence

𝐀/𝐍: mama, a kidnapper behind YOU <3

𝐖𝐂: 5,800+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

“i can’t believe your parents casually own riverfront property in the mountains. i know we’re here already, but i still can’t get over it.”

“have you seen our house?” zane deadpans sarcastically, rolling his eyes and looking back at aphmau. he’d been hunched over on that log the whole morning, squinting down at the nintendo he’d brought with him.

“you shouldn’t brag,” vylad murmurs from where he knelt down by the ice chest, right by garroth who was cooking everyone lunch on the grill.

“whatever. i don’t know why either of you or mom wanted me to go on this stupid trip.”

“because you need to get out more. the sun is healthy for you, you know.”

you turn your head from the squabbling brothers, rubbing them out as you look around at the scenery. aphmau’s shock wasn’t lost on you, either. the summer sun wasn’t too hot thanks to the northern region this property sat on, yet the rays that shone through the tree leaves and hit your face still kissed your skin with warmth. the distant noise of the river flowing and birds chirping was the only thing heard aside from your friends’ chatter. tall, beautiful trees surrounded the area, closing in the clearing this camping—or more glamping setup was in.

a tall watchtower loomed up on the small hill above you, and below it laid a bunker you hadn’t yet explored. you and the group are currently gathered around the fire pit, the small log cabin everyone was bunking in just off to the side. honestly, as shocked you were to be in a place this beautiful, you’re more shocked everyone’s parents were okay with you guys coming here alone. a bunch of teenagers alone, with no adult supervision? you guess due to your parents’ past friendship (save for laurance), they trusted each other’s kids to be good and not stir up too much trouble. but still.

it makes you wonder. when everyone else in this group grows older, will you all trust each other the same as your parents do? as you all do now? would your kids be friends? would you even keep your friends for that long?

“you look lost in thought,” aphmau murmurs from beside you.

katelyn is next to her, turning her attention to you as she adjusts her blue flannel that matches aphmau’s purple and your own favorite color. the incoming sophomore had insisted you three matched, saying flannel shirts “so matched the camping vibe” and that the girls of the group matching would be “super duper cute”.

“just… thinking.”

“about what?” katelyn prods.

if you’d tolerate my friendship for much longer.

“the future.”

“ooh, what about it?”

“just what we become. if we’ll all be together by then.”

“hopefully not,” zane grumbles under his breath, earning a sharp glare from not only his brothers but also laurance who’d been quietly observing the conversation.

“it would be so cool if we all lived in the same neighborhood one day!” aphmau suddenly says, hands clasped together as she completely ignores zane’s remark. “on the same street!”

“do you know how hard that would be to find a bunch of houses for sale together like that? you’d have to know, like, a really important realtor.” katelyn says, before her own words clip short at the end as she looks over to the ro’meave brothers, eyebrow raised. “i guess it’s not completely impossible… perhaps…”

“you’d have to really do something big to convince our dad to do that.” vylad muses. “unless something super crazy happened and we all had to live together for like… our safety or something.”

“that’s a weird way to put it.” laurance snorts.

“i’m just saying! it would be a huge loss money-wise for him.”

“he’s right,” zane mutters. “thankfully something like that won’t be necessary, so i won’t have to live by you freaks.”

aphmau gawks, putting her hands on yours and katelyn’s heads. “excuse me? i bet the three of us would be amazing roommates. we’d be the best neighbors!”

“ehhh…” katelyn starts.

“ehh?! what do you mean eeeehhhh? you wouldn’t want to room with me?”

laurance turns to you, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “did one eye just call us freaks? has he seen his haircut?”

“stop,” you snort, giving a scorning slap to his hand. “don’t be rude.”

“hey! he’s garroth’s little brother, so he's my little brother. i get to make fun of him like one,” he defends, eyeing the younger boy with mischief in his eyes. “besides, i’ve been sent here on this earth to humble both him and garroth. they desperately need it.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile inching onto your face. it was kind of fun to tease them. “but not vylad, huh?”

“nah, look at him.” he gestures towards the youngest, the boy smiling absentmindedly while listening to aph, kate, and zane squabble. “you really can’t make fun of that. bro’s at peace.”

“that’s… so true. he’s really well put together, actually.”

your eyes drift to garroth, who’s setting the freshly cooked food down on the trays

“damn, no plates,” he sighs under his breath, looking around. “how did we forget that?”

vylad frowns, looking at his older brother. “i thought there were some in the cabin…? do we need to run to the store?”

the blond shakes his head, setting the freshly grilled meat onto the metal tray. “no, no. there should be some in the bunker’s storage. i’ll go look.”

you jump to your feet at the mention of the bunker, dusting the stray bark and dirt that stuck to your legs. “i’ll help. i wanted to see what it looked like, anyways.”

garroth shrugs with a smile, slowing his long stride for you to catch up as he trudges up the hill. “it’s not really anything special. just some dusty boxes and stuff down there.”

“aw, man. no secret lab?”

“i’m afraid not. sorry to disappoint.” he grins, stepping forward to open the hatch.

a shiver runs down your spine at the cool air that wafts up from the dark room below, the contents inside hidden beyond the creaky staircase before you. something about the energy it gave off both drew you in and repelled you at the same time, keeping you still in place as you stared at the dark pit below.

“you scared? i can go first,” garroth offers, waving his hand in front of your face.

“huh? oh no, i’m not scared.”

“…sure…” he teases, snickering at the glare you send as he leads the way. “don’t worry. if you turn back now i won’t tell the others you’re a scaredy cat.”

“scaredy cat? how old are you?”

“older than you.”

you roll your eyes, and despite wanting to smack the boy’s forehead, your focus turns to the buzz of the single lightbulb that flickers on as you both make it to the bottom of the steps. garroth walks over to some boxes and crates that had been stacked in the corner, leaving you to look around at the concrete walls around you.

he was right, there wasn’t much special about it. nothing but cobwebs and crates filled the bunker, aside from a pile of rocks and dirt piled in the corner behind the stairs. as garroth continues to shuffle through his family’s storage, you curiously walk over to the debris. strange. sure, this was just a small vacation spot for the ro’meaves, but they always kept everything so tidy. why would they just leave this junk in here?

squinting your eyes, you catch a dark, brownish red painted on the wall. the shadow of the staircase kept it too dim to read, but you also catch a crack in the wall that looked like an old covered-up doorway. something about it sent a shiver up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. why is this place freaking you out so much?

“what are you looking at?” garroth suddenly asks from behind you, making you jump in place.

“oh, i was just trying to read this.” you point to the wall, and he pulls a flashlight from his pocket, shining it onto the dusty surface.

you were right. dark, reddish brown is rather messily painted onto the wall as if it were done in a hurry. the writing is illegible, whether it’s in another language or just poorly written indiscernible by you. though, above the writing, you did recognize one thing. it wasn’t words or strange signs, but instead a symbol of a very familiar divine figure.

“is that the irene sigil?”

“oh, yeah. that was there since i was a kid—as long as i can remember. mom just brushed it off saying it was dad playing a prank on us to try and scare us or something. but honestly, i always thought it was just kinda weird.”

“yeah… i know it’s probably paint… but doesn’t that look like blood or something?”

garroth snorts and begins to shake his head, before he hums and leans forward with furrowed brows. “you know… i remember it being brighter red when i was younger. now it’s kinda brown. i’m not great at science but isn’t that what happens when blood oxidizes for a long time or something?”

you raise an eyebrow at that, the two of you making nervous eye contact from the corners of your eyes.

“surely it’s just dirt and time that made the paint fade. why would it be blood?” you dryly laugh, standing straight again.

“yeah. blood would be weird. i think it’s just this place. always gave me the creeps.” garroth nods, following your awkward laughter as he stands tall himself, lifting the small stack of paper plates in his hand. “i uh—i found some plates by the way. so we should probably go eat now.”

“right, right,” you agree, glancing one last time at the ominous drawings before the two of you climb the stairs quicker than you had descended them.

☆

“man. to be able to spend the rest of my days floating around in the water. that would be the life,” katelyn murmurs, her head bobbing on top of the water as she floats on her back. “i know i’m a mermaid in another life.”

you glance over to her from the float you had lazily thrown your arms over. her hair flowed from her head in tendrils, the color darker from the water but occasionally shimmering as the sun's rays hit the strands. her pale skin and light blue swimsuit stood out from the darker water below her, making her practically glow against the river’s surface.

“i could see that, actually.”

katelyn lifts herself upright, starting to giggle. “right?”

“hey guys! if we want to kayak then we should do it before it gets dark,” garroth calls from the rope swing on the opposite side of the river bank. “you still want to go?”

“of course!” kate calls back, as if the answer was obvious.

vylad whoops while laurance swings himself over the water, the boy flipping back in the air as he goes. he appears on the surface a moment later, smiling as he spits the water from his mouth. “we’ll grab them from the shed!”

“is zane coming?” you ask, wading backward towards the small wooden dock that aph was perched on.

“he’s still pouting up in the cabin. you can go see if he wants to come,” vylad says. “…he probably won’t, though.”

“okay, i’ll go check, anyways.”

“are you sure you don’t want to come in the water, aphmau?” katelyn asks, swimming up to the edge with you.

“ummm, yep!” she smiles, her demeanor seeming a bit nervous as she eyes the flowing river ahead. “just don’t feel like swimming.”

“well, maybe you can kayak with us instead. you don’t even have to get wet for that.”

“maybe…”

wrapping a towel around your shoulders, you begin the walk back up to the campsite, grateful for the stone steps that had been built into the steep hill. trees hung over the path, keeping you shaded while the cool mountain breeze bristled the leaves over your head. your friends’ laughter and splashing in the water fade into the background as you finally make it to the top, your footsteps falling into the grass and dirt as you march up to the cabin door.

it’s dark inside, save for the natural light that filtered through the windows and the lamp lit up next to zane’s bunk. he laid back on the pillows, hoodie pulled over his head as he clicked away at his game. despite your obvious entrance, he completely ignores it, not even sparing a glance in your direction.

“hey.”

“what.”

you hold back the eye roll that fights against your eyelids, instead quietly sighing under your breath.

“we’re going kayaking in a minute. want to come?”

“no.”

“it’s the last evening of our trip. don’t you want to at least try to have a little fun?”

“no. i don’t care about swimming or kayaking, so why would i?”

“because i came all the way up here to get you to go.”

“then it was a waste of your time.”

you pull in another sharp breath, and despite the desire to just turn around nagging at your brain, you couldn’t ignore the image of him curled on the school tile. clearly, despite his harshness and wanting to seem like he didn’t care, he did seek validation from others. his whole act of being a punk and trying to get that validation from gene of all people nagged at your head.

“you know… actually not having people and friends who care about you isn’t very much fun. i’m sure a lot of people would kill to be in your place right now.” you shift on your feet. “not trying to lecture you or something, but you should at least try and have a little fun, since you’re already stuck here. in the future, you might regret not taking advantage of this time with everyone.”

“i don’t need you to tell me anything,” he grumbles, though not sounding as snappy as before. “i don’t like socializing. is it that hard to understand?”

“no. i don’t necessarily like it all the time, either. it can be really draining. but so is being alone all the time. you can think you like it but it eventually just makes you bitter. you never know when you’ll turn around needing someone to help you only to realize you’ve pushed them all away.”

“oh, like you’d know anything about that,” he snips. “you get coddled by everyone 'cause you can’t go outside without getting scared about some—“

he flinches like the sour words that left his mouth had spat out of his lips before he could even think of them.

“what an awful thing to say. you don’t know anything.”

his mouth is agape, and the eye that’s visible to you for once seems full of guilt.

“the offer still stands. i just thought i’d let you know.” you turn around, teeth tugging at the skin of your lip as you step out of the cabin.

stupid boy.

you make it to the edge of the camp, at the top of the stone stairs, when the cabin door creaks open and closes. quickened footsteps follow after you a moment later, before the lanky boy quietly falls in place next to you. his head is low, eye trained on the rocky path beneath your feet.

a beat passes in silence, your eyes locked on the steps ahead. he sighs tensely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“sorry,” he mumbles. “that was shitty to say. even for me.”

you start down the steps, shrugging. “it’s fine.”

he starts to follow, and while no more apologies leave his lips, you can tell he’s sorry enough based on the fact he was still following you to the dock. that alone was enough to surprise you, considering he’d likely rather shoot his own foot than apologize even to his own two brothers.

“woah, you actually got him out here. you have secret powers or something?” laurance raises his eyebrows, shooting a questioning look at zane who loomed behind you as you approached the dock.

“something like that,” you muse.

“i don’t know if i want to go,” aphmau mutters, her arms wrapped around herself as she rocks on her feet by the water.

the kayaks are lined up by her feet, four double-seaters in a row.

“well, even zane is going so you definitely have to,” katelyn says, splashing a bit of water by the girl’s feet and giggling when she leaps back.

“you don’t have to, but it’ll be fun! you can go with zane since he also doesn’t want to get wet. then you can both be reassured knowing you won’t tip the other in,” you suggest.

“i would rather not share with her.” zane sneers, eyeing aphmau up and down with a rather sassy look.

the girl takes great offense to this, her fists clenched by her sides. “well—! i don’t want to share with you, either! you have a stupid face!”

“wow. i thought we left kindergarten.” garroth rolls his eyes, nodding his head to laurance, who has already dragged one out into the water and is occupying himself by attempting to jump inside. “looks like he already left with one, anyways.”

katelyn pulls you towards one of the three left, pushing you into the spot in front of her as she slides in herself. you nearly tip over into the water again from the sudden movement, yelping as water splashes on your lap.

“well, that leaves vylad and me in this one. come on you two.” garroth motions to the last kayak left, raising his eyebrows challengingly at the two pouting teens left on the dock. “let’s be civil.”

it took ten minutes of complaining and nervous shuffling before the whole group was out on the water. despite the drama of it all, it was worth it. despite aphmau’s sudden fear of water which you hadn’t noticed before and zane’s reluctance to experience any joy, you could tell they were at least slightly enjoying this, too. the sun was painting the clouds in different shades of orange and pink as it made its way to the horizon, leaving you all surprisingly quiet as you all soaked in the moment.

“what’s on your mind?” katelyn suddenly asks from behind you, and despite nobody else turning their heads over, you could tell they were listening. “and don’t say nothing like you usually do lately.”

a huff leaves your nose, and a few moments pass before you answer. “just about… how…”

“the stalker?” aphmau whispers, pulling everyone’s eyes towards you.

“...yeah. just how weird it was that he showed his face, and now it’s been since before prom since i’ve seen him or the black suv. i just want to know what he’s thinking.”

laurance spins the kayak oar in his hands, before using it to pull himself closer to you.

“you hadn’t seen him before?”

“well, no. i mean, yes, but i didn’t realize it was him until later.” you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands. “it isn’t the first time he’s disappeared for a while, but he gets bolder each time he 'shows' himself to me. it’s just been making me feel on edge, lately, is all.”

there isn’t a response to that for a few beats.

“sorry, that was a mood dampener.”

there’s a collective shake of heads (besides zane), a few protestant “no”s echoing across the group.

“it just sucks. how has police not done anything?”

“they can’t actually do anything unless an actual threat to my life is made. plus, he’s so inconsistent with his appearances that it would take a lot of resources and time from emergency services if they tried tracking him. at least, that’s what the cops said before. that’s why i moved in the first place.”

katelyn scoffs. “that’s such bullshit. they just wait until something bad happens? it shouldn’t matter how long it takes. that’s psychological warfare.”

you shrug, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. “yeah, but unfortunately that’s how it works. i guess i’m just scared that i’ll have to run again. i’ve never had friends like you guys… so the thought of having to leave you all behind right as i get to be normal is really scary.”

“no matter what happens, you’ll always be our friend," vylad says, giving you a hopeful grin.

“and as your friends, we’re here to protect you,” garroth adds, uncharacteristically serious. “we won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

☆

the van rocks forward as garroth parks, the sunset shining through the windows and creating bright shapes across your eyelids. cracking your eyes open, you reluctantly pull your cheek from where it had snuggly rested on katelyn’s shoulder, consequentially stirring up aphmau who was laid across your lap. the icee she’d gotten on the trip back was still precariously set between her legs—it was shocking that it hadn't spilled onto her lap as the three of you slept in the back.

aphmau’s house meets your eyes as you clamber out of the back seat, your own just right down your line of vision. you were back home. a smile lifts on the corner of your lips at that. it wasn’t just a place you moved into, anymore. it was home. as were the teens that crawled out from the ro’meave’s van. home.

a strange shiver of being watched prickles at your neck, and your attention turns from your friends to the street behind you. nothing is there but the other houses on the street, the cars you saw regularly parked in their driveways.

everything is fine. the neighborhood is peaceful in the evening time, the summer insects chirping away as their time of the night comes. the air around you is calm, yet your breath seems to catch in your throat, the hot air invading your lungs rather than warming them. your heart thuds in your chest, its pace so rapid it feels like it’s stuttering against your rib cage.

you hadn’t stopped thinking about the markings on the bunker wall the whole trip, the imagery of the creepy, bloody-looking drawings still imprinted in your mind. on top of that, the conversation you’d had last evening was still buzzing around in your head, making for a rough mix of paranoia.

“are you okay?” aphmau whispers from right next to you, finally pulling your eyes from the street to the worried-looking girl next to you.

“yeah… just thinking. about things.”

that was eloquent.

you’re grateful for this trip. ever since she’d started talking to that aaron guy she seemed to have a lot less time to hang out or even talk to you as much, so having some time with the girl by herself was nice. you honestly didn’t blame her for her puppy love with the guy. you’d thought of him as a delinquent at first, but he wasn’t so bad at prom. he was a little quiet, but he was actually pretty nice as far as you could tell. he was the tall, dark, and handsome type, and that was a perfect contrast to the walking sun that aphmau was.

she hums looking unsure, before reluctantly letting it go as you wave her off.

“really?” katelyn suddenly groans, staring down at her phone.

laurance turns to look over his shoulder at the girl, a mischievous smile dancing across his face.

“what?”

“you know what! you little creep, why'd you post this? delete it, now!”

laurance begins to snicker. “no. it’s funny.”

you walk to katelyn’s side as she sends a sharp glare at him, peering over her shoulder to see her instagram open. recently posted by laurance was a picture of him and vylad cheesing into the camera, their faces at the bottom of the screen while you, kate, and aph were passed out in the background.

“i look awful. my mouth is open! i look like a mouth breather!”

“no… you three look… adorable…” he says between giggles, before yelping as the girl charges at him. aphmau chases after them as they run inside, her hands frantically waving for them to stop.

you walk after them, the ro’meave brothers—save for zane who’d been dropped off on the way—following along behind you into the salome residence. surprisingly you didn’t hear any shouting or wrestling as you’d expect, and instead, kate and laurance have crowded around the kitchen island that was filled with snacks.

sylvanna lets go of aphmau, who’d been wrapped up in her clutches for a tight hug, and sets her sights on you.

“mija!” she rushes you, pulling you in her arms and rocking side to side. “did you all have fun?”

“yes! it was a lot of fun,” you laugh, the tenseness in your shoulders leaving with every shake from the woman. “thank you for letting us all stay here for the night.”

“of course! as long as the boys here behave themselves, then your vacation doesn’t have to end just yet!” she says, her head whipping to the three guys who stiffen at her burning glare.

laurance looks at the feisty woman from the corner of his widened eyes, cheeks full of chips as he nods.

“of course. we’d never, miss sylvanna.” garroth smiles. “our mum taught us better.”

“of course she did!” she lets you go from her grasp, walking back over to the group with a chipper grin. “just making sure you don’t forget. zianna gave me permission to whoop all of your asses if you try anything!”

“mom…” aphmau sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“what? just speakin’ the truth, yo!”

aphmau groans into her hands.

you walk over to the snacks, picking up some small bite-sized things to nibble on as the lively conversation continues around you. everyone looks so happy. their smiling faces bright in the dim kitchen light, laughter carrying through the air of the cozy house and wrapping around you like a tight warm hug. part of you wishes you could sit in this moment forever, standing in the kitchen and watching your friends chatter amongst themselves. it was such a simple moment, yet you felt as though you should hold on to it.

“nothing—“ you start, before shaking your head with a smile. “i’m just glad we’re all friends.”

everyone stops, and as they all smile at you you don’t feel the need to hide or curl away like you usually would when faced with many eyes on you. there’s no prickling in your hands, or a coldness in your chest. you just feel warm.

“awwww,” sylvanna coos, aphmau making a similar sound as the two wrap their arms around you and press their cheeks into your hair. “we love you too!”

“you’re the cutest.” katelyn laughs, wrapping her arms around the three of you—with the boys following quickly after.

the moment lasts for a good ten seconds before you feel overwhelmed by the love being poured onto you.

“okay, okay. i’m gonna run to my house really quick to grab some things.” squirming out of their arms with a giggle, your cheeks burn hot from the affection.

“okay, mija. don’t take long.” sylvanna taps your nose.

you nod and make your way to the front door, pausing when you realize the sun has already disappeared, leaving the space beyond the window dark and black. for some reason, it sends an anxious feeling through your chest, and as you reach for the door you nearly jump out of your skin as garroth’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“hey. didn’t mean to scare you.” he smiles nervously, his hand waving over your shoulder like it would wipe away the fright he’d just given you.

“oh! it’s okay, garroth. what’s up?”

“you just looked a little nervous earlier,” he says, shifting on his feet. “are you thinking about… everything? i can walk you to your house if you’re feeling scared.”

a deep breath of air fills your lungs. sweet garroth. all of your friends were, and you knew they’d all come running to help you if you called—and you were just stepping right down the street. there’s nothing to worry about.

“no, that’s okay.” you reach out to pat his arm. “thank you, garroth. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure? i really don’t mind.”

“yeah. i’m sure.”

he looks hesitant, but takes a step back with a small smile. “okay, then. see you in a bit.”

“mhm.”

you open the door, step out, and give a wave before continuing out to the pavement. the lingering heat from the summer sun wavered in the air, though the cool night breeze was beginning to blow it away, leaving the air perfectly warm against your skin. ignoring the tingling in your fingers, you keep your shoulders high as you cut across the lawn to the sidewalk, shoes clicking against the concrete.

glancing back one last time, garroth was slowly closing the door, watching you walk away before completely shutting it.

your eyes rake the street beside you, street lamps and the moonlight lighting up every car on the road. each neighbor had their vehicles in their regular spots, everything seeming in order as you check every house one by one.

everything is fine, right? so why do you feel so on edge?

swallowing thickly, you take a shaky inhale and bring your sweaty hand up to zianna’s locket. this walk to your house feels longer than usual.

what’s that noise?

eyebrows pulling together, your eyes narrow as you look ahead, to where the street lamp ahead shone down on an idled vehicle in the road.

black paint reflected back at you, but not the lights. no, the only hint that it was on was the low hum of the engine.

you don’t realize you’ve frozen in place—nor that your breaths had stopped—until you suck in a sudden breath to chase away the swirling black dots that swam around your peripheral vision. you’re one house away from your home, two from aphmau’s. the vehicle is in front of yours.

would you have better luck running forward to your house? or turning around and booking it back to hers? have you already messed up by standing here like frozen prey?

you tear your eyes from the suv, flicking your anxiously blurred vision to the street ahead of you. a woman’s silhouette approached you, and you finally registered the clicking of her heels over the pounding of your heart in your ears and labored breathing. the distant street lamp shines on her hair, the powder blue a strangely familiar shade on your eyes. should you ask her for help? but why would a woman be out here in what looked to be formal attire?

no. she’s with him. you need to run.

it takes a second too long for your body to obey your mind, but you do turn, legs unlocking from their stiffened place and ready to run. you only make it two steps before you look up, a gasp you can only describe as terror filling your lungs when you see the man standing just five steps behind you. dark eyes bore into you, and it felt like you were staring into the depths of an evil entity rather than whoever this man was.

you bring your fist up to your face, slotting the metal whistle between your lips.

before you can even take in a full breath, the man has closed the distance, the back of his hand smacking across your cheek and pulling the locket from your fingers. you vaguely feel the clasp of the necklace break off from the back of your neck, the locket clattering to the ground and away from your reach. stumbling back from the sting of his strike, there’s barely any time to stand upright before his hand is gripping you by the back of the head, the other bringing a damp cloth up to cover your mouth and nose.

it smells sweet, overwhelmingly sweet. suddenly it’s like cotton candy has filled your head and lungs, your vision swimming dizzily. with whatever strength you have left, you dig your nails deep into the man’s hands, dragging down and successfully getting him to drop you with a grunt.

stumbling forward, you fall on the pavement, crawling to the street. your vision turns and twists, feet clumsily dragging underneath you like an injured deer.

you hadn’t made a sound yet. no one can hear what’s happening right now.

weak arms give out from beneath you, your cheek colliding with the rough street. turning your head, you try to scream, but your lungs give out on your attempt and merely exhale a small helpless whimper. heels appear in front of you, and you look up to see a halo of blue before something pricks against your neck.

and everything goes black.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch

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