#but then when he got shot it got significantly worse

[sal-fishing]

me to sal fisher

[findmeinforks]

The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words

"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.

"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.

You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.

"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."

"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"

"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"

"AND WERE NOT?"

It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.

You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.

On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.

Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.

You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.

Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.

Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.

Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.

"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.

"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.

Emily sighed.

"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.

"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.

Kim winced.

You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..

Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.

"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.

Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.

A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.

"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.

Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.

You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.

He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.

Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.

Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.

"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"

"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.

"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.

"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.

Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.

"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"

You yanked your arm from his grasp.

"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.

Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.

Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.

"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.

This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.

"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.

You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.

But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.

That couldn't be good.

"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.

You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.

Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.

"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.

You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.

"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.

"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.

Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.

Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.

Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.

"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."

After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.

"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."

"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."

Paul just nodded, praying he was right.

~

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.

"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.

"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.

Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.

"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."

"I need to talk to him."

It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.

Paul remained where he stood,

"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"

"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.

He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.

You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.

"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."

He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.

"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.

You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.

You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.

Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.

When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.

[thedemoninme141]

Not A Bad Day.

Summary: Wednesday is having a bad day.

Warning: FLUFF!!! WhippedWednesday! Soggy Shoes! (Author's note: The Office inspired me to write this.) Main Masterlist

Wednesday considered herself well-acquainted with misery, but today seemed particularly intent on testing her patience. From the moment she woke up—thirty minutes late, no less— a mortifying mistake that never would have happened at home. There, her beheading alarm would have swiftly corrected such negligence.

She sighed, Dreams about you might be her demise one day.

Getting dressed was a simple affair, but Wednesday’s shirt decided to be uncooperative, with a button popping off as she fastened it. She muttered darkly under her breath, already plotting how she’d punish the garment later.

She couldn't escape her room without hearing Enid's annoying "Good morning Willa." She can already feel it; this day is going to get worse.

The next blow to her day came in the form of a WHOLE two-point deduction on her literature test. Ninety-eight out of one hundred. Unacceptable. Wednesday had never scored below a perfect hundred in her life, and the sight of that glaring red "98" felt like a personal affront. She glared at the paper, as if willing it to correct itself through sheer force of will. But it remained stubbornly the same.

If that weren't enough, Bianca had beaten her in the fencing match. It wasn't that Bianca was an unworthy opponent; on the contrary, she was the only student who ever gave Wednesday a challenge. She had lost to her before but losing to her today, of all days, felt like a deliberate twist of fate.

Then there was lunch. Wednesday was usually content to sit alone, Only reason she started sitting with Enid is because... You, with your disgustingly wholesome smile, would be there, chatting with the group as Wednesday would steal her glances at you. But not today, you had to sit with the group from your art class. She doesn't care it was because of your group project, all she saw was how you laughed at something someone said, your smile like a knife twisting in her gut. She stabbed her fork into her lunch with unnecessary force, imagining it was the face of each and every person at your table. She dissected them in her mind, weighing their worth and finding them all significantly lacking. Why did you seem so content, so oblivious to her glaring presence?

So hurriedly, she got up, distracted by another sound of you laughing, running into Kent, who managed to spill his drink all over her freshly cleaned boots. The shock on his face as he stammered apologies did nothing to quell the rage bubbling in Wednesday’s chest. She was about to take out her knife and skin him alive in front of the whole school, but the whole school also included "you". So she just shot him a glare that promised retribution far worse than anything he could imagine before marching off to her next class. Her boots squelched unpleasantly with every step, and she found herself grinding her teeth in frustration.

When she returned to her room, She found Enid, frantically digging through her side of the room, tossing clothes and accessories in every direction as she prepared to go somewhere. Normally, the sight would have irritated Wednesday beyond measure, but today, it promised peace and quiet in the room once Enid left. Finally, she could get her writing time all to herself without Enid's constant chatter with Ajax on the phone.

She settled at her desk, getting her typewriter ready, Enid piped up, not waiting for Wednesday to ask what she was up to.

"I'm going to the mall with the girls, Do you wanna come too?"

Wednesday didn’t even look up from her typewriter. "Absolutely not."

Enid didn’t seem fazed by the cold response and, still humming a tune under her breath, made her way to the bathroom. Wednesday was just about to enjoy the rare tranquility of the room when she heard a soft knock at the door.

She opened it with her usual grimace, only for it to fade slightly at the sight of you standing there. Your bright eyes met hers as you greeted her with a warm smile, one that always seemed to disarm her no matter how much she steeled herself against it.

"Hey, Wednesday! Is Enid ready yet?" you asked, your voice light and friendly.

Before Wednesday could respond, Enid's muffled voice rang out from the bathroom, "Five minutes!"

Wednesday shifted awkwardly, the silence stretching out as you stepped into the room. She closed the door behind you, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her chest.

"Thanks," you said, making yourself comfortable on Enid's bed. You glanced over at Wednesday, your expression softening. "Hey, why don't you come with us? It could be fun." you said just as Enid got out of the bathroom. "Wednesday? Fun? She’s not really into shop—"

"I need to buy a watch." Wednesday interrupted, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. She could have slapped herself. A watch? Out of all the excuses in the world, that was the best?

Enid blinked in confusion, her brows furrowing. "But you don’t even wear a—"

"I wear now," Wednesday snapped, cutting her off sharply. Her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of color.

"Okay then, Get out of those soggy shoes if you wanna join us," Enid said,

Soggy shoes? Owh... she had been wearing coffee-soaked shoes in front of you the whole time? Where was her mind today? This day can't get any worse.

Yet, somehow, it did. There she was, suffering through the ordeal of Enid browsing through every hideous, brightly coloured dress imaginable. She watched as Enid and Yoko flitted from rack to rack like hyperactive butterflies, pulling out monstrosities of neon and glitter. She shuddered internally at the thought of anyone ever considering those abominations fashion.

"How long can it possibly take to find something as uninspired as a pink sweater?" Wednesday muttered under her breath, glancing at her forcefully bought watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It was getting late. If it were up to her, she’d have left Enid and Yoko to fend for themselves. A mugging wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to them after sunset. But then there were you, and Wednesday wouldn't want you to lose the purse she gifted you on your last birthday. It was annoyingly, pathetically enough to make her stay.

The drive back was hardly any better. The bus was packed, loud, and the journey felt interminable. Enid and Yoko continued their chatter, oblivious to Wednesday’s increasingly sour expression. She stared out of the window, willing the outside world to disappear so she could retreat into her thoughts. If only her powers could manifest to the point of invisibility, she’d gladly vanish right there.

But then, something changed. A weight on her shoulder.

You, sitting beside her, leaned your head against her shoulder as you let out a tired sigh. You had drifted off, exhausted from the day, and the quiet weight of your presence was the most soothing thing Wednesday had experienced all day. Wednesday didn’t move, didn’t dare to breathe too deeply for fear of disturbing you. The chaos around her faded into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your breathing.

Not a bad day, she thought. Not bad at all.

(Why am I writing so much fluff, Celine would be so disappointed at me lol)

[violetashfall]

Clumsy Boy.

Where Carl is a wreck...

┊ ➶ ｡˚

!basically fem reader (No physical disc) - 3rd person!

Pretend Warnings;

Cringey

Carl is a complete loser in this !!

Got some notes at the end of the fic, just me complaining...

Carl Grimes had gotten significantly more uncoordinated after he lost his eye… his depth perception was not what it once was, and paired with the headaches and brain fog, his clumsiness only got worse.

He took offence to the way his eye deceived him, looking so insulted whenever a water bottle hit his lips before he could part them, how forks kept knocking against his teeth when he tried to take in food.

One person who always witnessed his struggles was [name], she couldn’t help but notice his stumbles and the empty grasps he made whenever he missed whatever he wanted to hold.

His clumsiness was ever-present in how close he got to her while talking and walking, always finding himself a few many steps too close. He tried to make it seem casual, he totally meant to stand foot-to-foot with her–He didn’t even notice when the rim of his sheriff’s hat hit against her head–and when he took those very slow steps back, they were so inconspicuous he might as well have been a ninja…

But of course, Carl was lying to himself, he looked like Bambi learning to walk on ice whenever he was with the poor girl who kept falling victim to his wobbly brain.

But [name] found it sweet – Carl looked so flustered when he accidentally wavered too close, how his lanky arm bumped into hers when they walked… his coordination skills only got worse when the sun came out, blinding his only good eye and making his foggy brain ache further.

It was how he ended up in such an awkward situation: He hated ladders with a burning passion now his mind was constantly dizzying. He had to climb one at the lookout post during the summer day, clinging close to the rung bars - focusing on not getting too woozy. [name] stood at the top, looking over Alexandria with her hand extended for him to take - the one he missed as he clambered to the top with the fear of a tiny puppy - for such a strong boy, he was acting like a kid terrified of heights, throwing himself into the lookout with zero grace and little self-preservation left.

[name] couldn’t dodge him quick enough when Carl tumbled into her, the crown of his head harshly knocking into her chin - making [name] freeze as the force drove her to bite her tongue. When Carl felt the clunk on the top of his head it was already too late, eye-level with [name] once his legs were fully straightened, already taking a tripped step forward and already hanging off her to stop his fall. Their noses hit each other and worst of all, their lips ungainly brushing together.

[name] pushed herself back and forced him upright in a split second, hearing his thick boots thudding against the floor as he stabilised himself. [name] fell backwards raggedly, tripping on her shoelace - his clumsiness was infectious apparently. Not only did [name] feel her sore teeth and hammering chin, but her lips were also buzzing like his had zapped an electric current through them. Her nose wrinkled at him, pure perplexity taking her face as she stared–

“Jesus, Carl!” She exclaimed like a bruised child, She was a bruised child; tasting that pinprick of blood that pipped out her bitten tongue, knowing she’d get a purple mark on her chin from his thick skull colliding with it. The one day he didn’t wear that stupid sheriff's hat… at least it'd cushion the blow.

Carl looked down at her, eye shot open and brain paused in a deep drowning feeling of mortification… and an upcoming migraine. “I’msorry–” His words spilt so fast they were incoherent, hands extended yet frozen by his sides - he had practically just attacked her–Thrown himself at her like she was a lake and he needed to hide from the wasps swarming his head–and it didn’t even work! His brain burned, lit ablaze by the thoughts in his head telling him he was an idiot, asking himself why it was always her.

���You sneeze on me yesterday and now break my jaw?” She whined dramatically, grumbling and pouty, cupping her chin and instinctively touching her lips. She gawped at Carl who's face was burning scarlet - not only had he been weird with her for months, hindering his progress with her at every turn by stepping on her toes or stabbing her with his fingernails when trying to hold her hand–something he was so embarrassed by he was timid to try again, especially after she began figuring out what his murderer name would be after he finally killed her–He had also just ruined his chances further by attacking her with his gracelessness.

“--I didn’t mean to,” Carl cringed at himself, heart pounding in his chest as he kept inwardly begging for the world to swallow him up right there, partly wanting to glare at her for bringing up when he sneezed on her - he had begged her to forget about it, he just wanted her to think he was cool. “Both times,” He muttered, “Any of the time–All of it.” He spilt, moving towards her with stumbled steps and fumbling arms. He tried to help her up - thanking god he at least held her hand with more ease this time.

He couldn't believe himself, he wasn’t awkward, he was outspoken and smart - but Jesus, he did not act like it... especially now, staring at her apologetically with a tight grasp on her upper arm as if she would flee if he let go, but in reality, it was to stop himself from falling to his face without her support, he felt dizzy.

“You’re fine,” [name] said, side-eyeing him as he helped her stand, feeling his hands shake against her. She usually found his clumsiness endearing, but she was startled this time, so much to process about that split second interaction. One thing [name] could tell was how by that tiny grimace on his face - one clouded by the most dorky, cringed, expression ever - that he was at the start of a migraine, and so was she if the pain in her chin radiated any further through her skull.

She started hoping their mistaken kiss would turn him into… well, just a Carl who didn’t keep colliding into her… but he wasn't a frog, and she was no princess, she scowled too much for it.

"You are fine? Right?" She asked, brows furrowing as she inspected his expression, seeing his jaw tight and eye squinted. "Just, Just a headache." He said, shaking his head and diverting his face further, not exactly wanting to look into her eyes when he was so mortified.

[name] huffed, Carl was back to his normal stubborn denial now, just with some extra embarrassment - he knew damn well she was about to tell him to take his painkillers, he'd give her that look as if to say 'Don't baby me' - he wasn't a child who needed to be reminded… but he couldn't bring himself to look at her after that colossal fumble, still flushed and awkward from basically kissing her. "I'm fine." He repeated, voice holding tenseness, something about how [name] stood quiet for a few seconds too long made him know she'd be teasing him soon enough for the massive blunder... he just wanted to get over it... and maybe smirk and kick his feet while thinking about how her lips briefly felt against his.

"...Why are you smiling?" [name's] brows furrowed further, watching Carl who held an expression mixed with pain, mortification and somehow cheekiness... his mind somewhere else for a moment.

Carl's eye widened when she called him out, looking at her as his tiny, dopey smile fell and got replaced with blabbering lips, "Shutup." He grumbled - getting ripped away from his lovey thoughts - about to let her hand go, yet he couldn't bring himself to, palm stuck to hers like glue, wanting to hold it too much to let it go.

(A/N) I hate writing in 1st / 2nd perspective so I just didn't... the use of [name] is pretty robotic but, hey... I have no defence. I kinda wanted to make this a 'neutral pronoun' fic but got pissy that my WiFi wasn't working so I didn't...

I just wanted to try writing fanfiction.. This was supposed to be a bot, and probably will still be. I didn't capture his character because I made him a dorky whump - I was in a silly mood!!

So yeah, first fanfiction, I felt like a completely stereotypical teenage girl writing this and I don't mind it.

[babybluebex]

venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF ? 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!

There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count). 

It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!” 

You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one. 

The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.” 

The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?” 

“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.” 

You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention. 

“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed. 

“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?” 

You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.” 

“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head. 

“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation. 

The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”

You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.” 

“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.” 

You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?” 

“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.” 

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.” 

“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.” 

“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.” 

“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?” 

You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…” 

“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.” 

“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?” 

The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene. 

“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”  

You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm. 

You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up. 

You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out. 

You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others. 

You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy. 

Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over. 

“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?” 

“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.” 

“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”

“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.” 

“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked. 

“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”

“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?” 

You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.” 

“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too. 

“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked. 

“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.” 

“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?” 

“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked. 

“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.” 

“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks. 

Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him. 

“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?” 

Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?” 

“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.” 

“Probably,” Angus said simply. 

You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.” 

To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?” 

You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.” 

“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic. 

“No,” you told him. 

“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next. 

You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time. 

“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.” 

All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!” 

You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked. 

Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.” 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.” 

“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.” 

“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.” 

“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged. 

“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.” 

“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.” 

You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.” 

The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say? 

Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes. 

You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that. 

The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”

The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.

You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?” 

“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?” 

“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?” 

The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said. 

You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same. 

Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?

“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.” 

You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.” 

Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said. 

“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?” 

“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.” 

You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked. 

“Do I mind what?” Angus asked. 

“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.” 

“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.” 

You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him. 

“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”    

“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly. 

You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up. 

“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief. 

“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”

“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?” 

“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?” 

“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.” 

“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”

“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?” 

“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.” 

“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”

“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.” 

You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone. 

“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?” 

“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”

“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.” 

“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!” 

“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said. 

“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.” 

“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”

“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.” 

“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?” 

“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.” 

That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”

Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ. 

The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class. 

You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him. 

“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.” 

As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.” 

You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school. 

“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.” 

“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged. 

“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.” 

Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas. 

Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office. 

“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.” 

“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.” 

Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.” 

“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”

“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?” 

“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.” 

You nodded silently. 

“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked. 

You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.” 

“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. 

“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”

“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.” 

Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.” 

Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives. 

After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone. 

Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book. 

The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room. 

Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.” 

“Who?” you asked. 

“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.” 

“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.” 

“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled. 

“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.” 

“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”

“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?” 

Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”

“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?” 

“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”

“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?” 

“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.” 

Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…” 

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!” 

“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said. 

“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?” 

“Anywhere but here!” 

You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment. 

You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open. 

Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great. 

But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath. 

“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?” 

“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap. 

Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently. 

“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.” 

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked. 

“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—” 

“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.” 

“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked. 

“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?” 

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.” 

“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.” 

The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway. 

“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?” 

“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.” 

“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.” 

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” 

“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”

“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.” 

“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly. 

“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.” 

“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.” 

“Shut up,” you huffed. 

“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?” 

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room. 

Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline. 

By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep. 

That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway. 

You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily. 

“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.” 

“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.” 

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.” 

You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.” 

“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.” 

“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.” 

You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.” 

“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”

“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night. 

It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”

“Would you?” your mother asked. 

“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!” 

“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked. 

“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy—  I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?” 

“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end. 

“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!” 

“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.” 

Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.” 

“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”

“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.” 

“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked. 

“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into— 

“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.” 

“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?” 

You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled. 

Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.” 

You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled. 

“Guess so,” Angus echoed. 

The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it. 

You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours. 

Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch. 

Accurate, you countered. 

Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?” 

But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!” 

“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly. 

“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement. 

“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop. 

“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.” 

You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin. 

“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.” 

Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard. 

You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone. 

You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up. 

“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.” 

“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?” 

Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.” 

On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.” 

You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus. 

“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.” 

If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”. 

The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”

[weskie]

Revenge and Recovery (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

reader is injured, hurt/comfort, shared shower, established relationship | Fic Directory

He isn’t there when you wake.  The doctors don’t know what to tell you other than that he brought in the best of the best to ensure your recovery went as smoothly as possible.

Three days go by until you’re discharged with just aches and pains and a couple bandages over your healing gunshot wound.  Your assailants hadn’t wanted to kill you, clearly.  If they did, they’d have aimed better.  You were simply a message.

You’d half expected to find Wesker in his office, but something in your gut told you he was nowhere near home.  Probably worlds away, if you had to guess.

The first few days are the worst.  Waking up in fits of pain, sweating, breathing labored as you struggle to sit up to take more pain medication.  Silly you, letting the aches catch back up to you.  It’s difficult to do much of anything, but you persevere.  You take it day by day.

By the end of the week, you can lift your arms above your head without the stretch feeling as if you were ripping in two.  You have more energy to do the things you enjoy, so you spend your time inside Albert’s study, reclined on his couch as you scribble away in your sketchbook.  You feel most comfortable here since everything happened.  It’s like you’re surrounded by him, by the man you know would protect you with everything he has even if he isn’t necessarily there to do it.  You can only imagine the guilt he’s felt since you were attacked.  Not that it was his fault for being absent.  He’d been called away over a client attempting to back out of a deal and was attempting to rebuild the bridge to his dreams.  You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him.

The scratch of your pencil becomes like white noise as you fall into your drawing.  The more you think of Al, the more your work begins to shape itself into him.  The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the shimmer of his cat-like eyes.  You’re not the world’s most talented artist, but you’d dare to say you captured his likeness quite well by the time you’re nearly done.

“You’ve got my nose all wrong,” comes a voice from behind you, startling you to jump halfway out of your skin.  Your mostly healed injuries protest such sharp movements, but the recognition of that voice dulls every ache.  When you turn around, you don’t care at all how badly your body complains.  You throw yourself at him entirely.

“Al!” You gasp, tears welling in your eyes.  You squeeze him tightly, as if letting go would allow for him to fade away like smoke through your fingers.  His arms around you bring you back to earth.  They make you feel safer than ever.

It’s only as you relax that you notice something is off.  He smells… smokey.  There’s a hint of something else, and your eyes go wide when you finally pull away to look at him.

Soot stains mark his face, but not nearly as much as the dried, crusted blood does.  It’s all over him, practically from head to toe.  It stains his hair, coats his hands and forearms, the thickest areas of it crackle and chip along the folds of his clothes.

“You need never worry about them again, my dear.”  He murmurs, removing a stained glove to lift your chin between his bare thumb and forefinger.  “They’ve been put down like the feral creatures they are.”

You simply stare at him in wonder.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him stained in the blood of his victims, but it’s the first time it’s ever been for you.  You can only imagine what must have happened.  Perhaps he flew into a blind rage after getting you to safety and tracked down your assailants.  Or, worse, maybe he was entirely calm about it.

You imagine the latter would result in significantly more pain for the men who shot you.

The hands that hold you now likely ripped each of your attackers in two, pierced their flesh, tore the hearts from their bodies, but they hold you as though you’re no more than a delicate flower whose petals would fall away with a mere gust of wind.

He says nothing, but he does bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe you in.  After some time, you manage to tug him in the direction of the bathroom.  All you wanted was to snuggle him and feel safe while you drift off to sleep, but you wouldn’t dare let him end his day stained in the remains of those who’d wronged you.

The water no longer stings as it runs over your mostly healed wound.  A few stitches that hadn’t quite dissolved yet stick out in sporadic patterns, but it isn’t too terribly unsightly. Not that you think your sweet Albert would mind, knowing all that he’s seen in his line of work.  The cascade dribbles off his body and swirls pink at your feet, slithering down the drain.

He’s reluctant to let you wash him at first, but you swat his hands away from the shampoo bottle before he can even graze it.  This, of course, earns you a smirk and a chuckle.

“Really now?” 

Ever the gentleman, he leans down just enough for you to run your fingers through his hair without straining your injury.  The occasional patch of dried blood colors the suds the same shade as the rest had run.  You decide he needs another pass.  You can’t be too thorough, after all.

In return, he does all the same for you.  While he glides a washcloth over your body, his other hand ghosts the edges of your wound.  Wesker swallows, parts his lips as if to speak, but stumbles over his words.

“They… I made sure–” He pauses, jaw flexing.  “They suffered.” 

You know it’s killing him.  You knew it all along, but seeing it… Seeing it breaks your heart.  

“So did you…” You murmur, thumb stroking the edge of his jaw.  Wesker averts his eyes, hiding whatever reaction your words stir up, be it tears or simply the glow of his eyes dimming with sorrow.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”  If you’d only been stronger, faster, smarter, anything, the hurt on his face wouldn't be there.

There is precious little in this world he cares for.  Before you met him, Wesker seemed the type of man to disregard anyone and anything if it meant furthering his goals.  By some odd miracle, you became the exemption.  As you found yourself growing closer to him, a fondness the likes of which you’d never seen him express to anything appeared seemingly out of thin air.  One minute you were just another subordinate that he was, admittedly, strangely kind to, and the next you were the apple of his eye.

It doesn’t make the woe in his gaze any less painful.  Knowing what you mean to him makes it worse, actually.  That your life means that much, that your very existence is worth unmaking another’s…

“M’sorry I let you down…”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth is there a finger curled under your chin to redirect your gaze to his. “Impossible,” he rasps.  He leans down to press your foreheads together, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before releasing a shuddering breath.  “And you never will…”

For now, you two will bask in each other’s presence.  You’ll curl up together and revel in the momentary calm before your next inevitable storm. Such is the price you pay for the heart you call home.

[e-vay]

so… i turn thirty this year & after two failed relationships, im unsure how to have hope i’ll ever find my “person”. Ive been following you for a long time… how did you have hope that you’d eventually find someone and have a happy relationship?

If this is too intense or personal to ask, dont worry i just,,, i dont know. Its a struggle to feel like i’ll ever find The One and i know you went through something similar so… maybe you’d just have advice?

Thank you,,, i hope youre having an amazing night ❤️

I don’t mind you asking me this. If talking about the hard times I went through can help others get through it, I think it’s worth discussing. 

Like you said, I also struggled with love for a long time and after a few devastating relationships I gave up on dating altogether for a while. But, in hindsight, that ended up being a blessing because I was able to spend time bettering myself and—most importantly—learn to love myself. Yes, having a partner can make our lives richer, but I think it’s important to be able to enjoy your own company. Before, I thought the void inside of me needed to be filled by another person, so I would go out of my way to find somebody to do that without actually worrying whether or not they were the correct fit for me. Having time to focus on myself made me a better person (I think), and it ultimately ended up being for the best because I no longer felt like I was less than. Of course, I would still feel lonely from time-to-time and I’ve always been a romantic so I love the idea of love, but I got to the point where I felt fulfilled enough on my own so that when I met my now-husband, the feeling was significantly different. It wasn’t “I need to put this person in the hole that is my heart so that I can crawl my way up out of this pit,”... It was instead “Oh, this person significantly ADDS to the joy in my life” and that’s one of the reasons why he stood out to me as a partner. Though I would have liked to have met my husband sooner in life, honestly? Had we met sooner, before I matured and improved myself, we likely wouldn’t have worked out. I'm not saying you need to improve yourself. I'm just saying that that's what helped me and ended up giving me hope.

I also think society gives us too many unrealistic expectations and goals that we’re expected to meet by certain “deadlines”. Everybody moves at their own pace and has their own journey that’s unique to them. We can’t all be expected to follow the same linear path; humans are just too different. I was my husband’s very first girlfriend and he was 36 years old when we started dating. But when I’ve asked him if he’s upset/disappointed he never had a relationship before meeting me, he’s told me “No, I think we met when we were supposed to.”

Lastly, I want to address my personal beliefs on “The One.” Y’all know I’m a romantic and I do believe in soulmates, but I also believe we’re capable of having more than one soulmate. The world is too big for us to be limited to the chance of only ever finding one single person who is compatible for us. And if we miss out on meeting that one person, our chance of love is shot??? I just don’t believe that. When widows/widowers remarry, does that diminish the love they had for their late spouse? Of course not. It doesn’t mean their first love wasn’t just as important and meaningful as their new love. So, maybe you could find it helpful if you adopt this mindset as well. I think it makes the idea of romance seem less impossible.

I don’t know if this makes you feel any better but at the very least I hope you don’t feel worse for having read it! I don’t know you personally, but I wish you absolute happiness.

It's going to be okay 🙂

[dancingdonatello]

Hi!! So remember when Donnie (evaporated?) in the 2012 show? I was wondering if you could do a Donnie x reader with one shot where the reader got significantly clingier after the events of that episode out of fear that he was going to disappear again. Ur writing style is rlly smooth btw keep up the good work

2012 donnie x gn reader

It wasn’t really hard to notice.

How you’d call him every morning when he would leave your home before dawn or when you’d wake up from a nap and immediately look for him.

Or even how you’d look like a wreck when he came into the lair a few minutes after his brothers after a rough mission.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a bit unhealthy of Donnie to like it. But he did. He really did. He craved the feeling of being loved so much.

But the delightful feeling of being wanted was starting to dim with how you were staying to get worse. He could see bags under your eyes. He could see how stressed you got when he had to do something a little more dangerous than dealing with 2 lowly Purple Dragons members or a single foot solider.

And he knew he was making it worse by not confronting you. And hurting you was way worse than this feeling he had.

Here you were now, standing in the doorway of your bedroom and staring him down as you brushed your teeth.

“You don’t want to do that over the sink?” Donnie asked, hugging a pillow that smelled like you. Or well, it should’ve. You had bought him a shirt, forced him to wear it, and then placed it over the pillow. It just smelled normal to him.

You shrugged. You walked backwards back into the bathroom. In less than thirty seconds you were back into the room and in bed next to him.

“Are you excited?” You clicked on a movie on your laptop, smiling at him.

He nodded, quietly thinking over how to get a message across to you. He laid on his plastron, mirroring your position. In two seconds you were pressed against his side, smiling at him sweetly as if nothing was wrong.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” he bumped his shoulder to yours. “You don’t need to… worry.”

“I know,” you said a little too quickly. Then you sat up a little too quickly. “I mean. You were just gone!”

He sat up beside you, looking a little unsure on how to approach this. “It’s not going to happen again. April… it won’t happen again.”

You still looked worried but it melted away when he opened his arms. You dove in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It better not,” you sighed, not meaning your words at all, “or I’ll get super, super mad, okay?”

[atopvisenyashill]

What are your thoughts on GRRM’s new notablog post on HOTD S2?

omg i'm sorry so i did not get notified that i had a few new asks, i didn't even see this until i logged in on desktop. tumblr eat shit smh.

ANYWAYS.

I actually agree with Xiran Jay Zhao, here, where they said this was a warning shot. It feels like a warning shot. Like a "hey I'm being nitpicky and pedantic now but if you think I won't go scroched earth you got another thing coming." I've seen so much "this is unprofessional" "this is annoying" "why is he complaining" and I think it is not only mind boggling to side with a corporation and the idiots running these shows (and we know I mostly like Condal and Hess, but come on Condal was the mastermind of Sansa Bolton why are we defending him right now!!), I think everyone is blowing his comments wildly out of proportion. He didn't take a dig at anyone but the writer's room and more specifically Ryan Condal, who he has had a working relationship with for well over a decade. He didn't shittalk any casting, he didn't shittalk any specific writers or directors except one of the main showrunners, he compliments the special effects, he has consistently had (and imo is careful) nothing but praise for the actors, even minor roles like Blood & Cheese. This was an incredibly milqtoast "please remember that every change has huge affects on the narrative later" critique and the people handwringing over his behavior are absolute losers, I'm sorry.

And beyond the fact that he didn't make any huge digs, I think this conversation also wildly ignores the way authors have no control over their own characters once they sign the rights over. They can be completely bamboozled by changes and they have no recourse to go "what the hell are you doing." And yet, signing your book's rights away (even if the production sits in developmental hell for decades) is usually what nets these author's the most money - GRRM surely makes a shitton off his books, but most authors get paid absolutely nothing even when they're wildly popular because of how book deals work now. Take, again, Xiran for example - Iron Widow was a huge runaway hit, a good and fresh take on this new boom of culturally based sff. And yet Xiran has talked about how they immediately set to work writing a middle grade novel because they desperately needed the money because they got paid 16k over two years for their runaway hit that made their publishers significantly more than 16k. I think George is not only mad for authors with less control than he has but also, obviously, for himself - I've said time and again, but I do think Dark Daenerys is where we are headed, and the fact that they completely botched showing it has got to smart. And if the ending for Dany is anything other than Jon killing her, that has got to smart too. So he watched these people fuck up his original series and push him completely out of that writer's room as they made more and more changes, and now he's watching s2 of HOTD and seeing some changes and getting some real bad vibes. It's not doomerism to think s3 is going to go massively off the rails when we have seasons 6-8 of the main show to show us just how off the rails it can go!

So anyways, that part of my rant over (and please believe me when I say I checked myself here because I could rant for hours about how it's genuinely so upsetting to see people call him unprofessional over this when not only did he write the fucking series, but he's lived in this series for three decades!!!!! this is his whole life, this is his legacy, of course he's feeling some type of way about how it's handled jesus christ on a cracker, there's people who have said worse about their mediocre nyt pushed bestsellers getting adapted badly!), when it comes to the actual meat of his post....I'm sorry idk how anyone is annoyed by this post because it was hilarious to me. He spent a whole blog post whinging about how Dead Baby #4 and Kingsguard Man #12 are gonna get cut out of the show. I think he framed it in that goofy way on purpose to hide how annoyed he is but you can see where the real annoyance lies - the changes to Helaena, losing one of his grisly death scenes, and being willfully mislead about potential changes to the plot. I think a lot of people missed those points but EYE am not a goofy ass like those people and I can guarantee you that Condal and HBO got the point too.

Of course, I do think he is also irked about Maelor and Ser Rickard's scenes being cut out. He wrote a long ass, highly meticulous, near unadaptable work, and I think when he handed the IP over he assumed he was giving it to people who would rise to the challenge and only make cuts when absolutely necessary. And that just clearly hasn't happened. Incredibly important characters get cut, main characters get their plots wildly changed for no reason, and people get personality transplants on a near constant basis for no other reason than D&D and Condal thought it would look cooler. I think if there was more dedication to keeping him in the loop and keeping true to the story, he wouldn't have bitched so much. But Hess is on record saying she doesn't feel loyal to the story and at a certain point, you reach your breaking point there and I think he has finally reached his. AND GOOD FOR HIM. LET THAT OLD MAN GO APESHIT THEY'VE COMPLETLEY FUCKED HIS WORLD UP!!!

[x-junwrites-x]

HELLO!!! based on ur most recent Edd request, can i request something similar but with tom and/or tord?

Hi Anon,

It might not be the same playful vibe as the one with Edd, but I think anything with Red Leader needs a little more;)

Enjoy!

-Jun

Early Mornings

Tord(Red Leader) x Reader Fluff

Tw: mentions of previous burn scars

You woke slowly, feeling sluggish in the early morning of the day. You had settled onto your right side before you woke up, gripping the bedsheet as you stretched your arms out over the bed. You moaned slightly, humming as an arm wrapped around your middle. Despite the early time that you didn’t like waking up at, this was usually the time Tord got up for work. A hand smoothed over the warm skin under your sleep shirt, the Norwegian’s nose burying into the back of your neck. Surprisingly he kept still instead of rolling out of bed with a kiss. You waited a few seconds, expecting him to stir again but being surprised at the light snore he let out in your ear. You stifled a noise, moving an arm to caress his side as his front was pressed against your back. He usually never cuddled this much in the mornings, so you weren’t complaining.  

His puffs of breath tickled the back of your neck the longer you laid there, making you squirm away from him. 

“Don’t leave.” He croaked out roughly, making you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him. His eye was still closed, brows pinched together. A frown tugged at his lips, only being soothed when you ran a hand over his cheek as you turned around in his hold. 

“Hey, I’m not leaving,” You said softly, moving to place a kiss over the crease in his brow. It eased significantly as you ran your fingers through his dusty blond hair. The hand that was around your waist, smoothed over your skin as he moved back from being plastered against you. You missed his warmth as he moved enough to look at you. His silver eye traced over the features of your face for a second before he was leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“You ok?” You asked after a second, knowing that he usually wasn’t this affectionate right off the bat in the morning. He nodded shortly, nuzzling into the hand that was resting against his cheek.

“Mareritt.” He murmured into the quiet between you two. Your eyes softened, moving close to leave another kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m here, you’re ok.” You assured him quietly, smoothing a thumb over the skin just below his left eye. His sleep patch was removed from over his right eye gently, he watched silently-almost reverently-as you turned slightly to place it on the nightstand.

“Jeg elsker deg.” He whispered, reaching for your hand as you moved to lay back down comfortably on your side. You gave him a small smile, bringing his hand up to your lips.  You kissed his knuckles, taking care to kiss over the bruised skin lightly. Most days he came back unscathed, but some days were worse than others.

“Come back to me in one piece today.” You said to him, seeing the way his silver eye flashed in recognition. 

“As much of me as I can bring back.” He let out a huff. You rolled your eyes, smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright, Red Leader.” You teased, earning a nip to your own knuckle as he laced your fingers together in his hold. 

“Careful, I may not be so gentle with the rest of you later.” He replied, smirk playing over his mouth as you heated up at the idea.

“Only if you get home at a good time.” You shot back, making him groan.

“Only for you.” Tord answered, starting to sit up. Your eyes followed him, watching in appreciation as the covers slipped from his chest. The scars adorning his body looked faint in the early light of the morning. Adorning the planes of muscle carefully sculpted through years of training and fighting. For everything he’s ever wanted to build for you and him. An empire. 

You were about to say something before he leaned down, tipping your chin up with a finger and kissing you on the mouth again. You hummed into it, feeling him nip your bottom lip as he pulled back. 

“Du har mitt hjerte.” You said to him as he began moving out of the bed. He smiled, something small and quiet. The scars on the right side of his face stretched slightly as he did so. 

“I know.” He turned around, giving you his back. You saw burn scars and the small ones that were left behind from that one time with his friends from his past on his side as he lifted his arms up to stretch his shoulders. He sighed as he leaned to grab his robotic arm from next to the night stand. You closed your eyes as you heard it click, knowing the way it perfectly aligned onto the divot of his arm. 

Tord moved to the wardrobes around the room, piecing together his uniform one by one. Piecing together his armor for the day. Until he turned back around to you, catching sight of the wide look.

“What?” He asked, shifting as he fit his boots on. The high collar of his jacket feathered over his cheekbone before he moved back to look at you.

“Just you.” You breathed. The Red Leader was standing in your room. “Tord Larsson.” You hummed. 

“Just to you.” He responded back, moving to your side on the bed. You leaned back, tracing over all of him. He seemed so powerful. “Stay out of trouble.” He murmured, leaning down to give you one more kiss before he was leaving the room.

You watched as he left before your head hit the pillows again. What a morning.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

How greatly do the characters from the original show differ from the comic? I've noticed that Rose is a lot less jovial in the comics compared her appearances in the show. Canon rose also carries this air of naivety even in tense situations, whereas comic rose is a bit more level headed

They're definitely different, but in a way that I hope would... make sense? For the difference in their lives as it diverges from canon.

Actually, people are always quick to tell me that I seem to characterize Rose differently from the canon show. And I don't deny that! But I think the reasoning behind that is solid, or at least I hope it is.

1. The First Divergence

First - this Rose didn't just fall in love with Greg and then evolved from there. She met Greg once, lost track of him when he left on his way to stardom, and then their paths aligned again when he came back to Beach City a much more broken individual.

They still connected heavily, like the first time, but their love wasn't merely a whirlwind of feelings and misunderstandings. This time, it was more tenuous - Rose had to struggle to understand Greg not only as a human being, but as someone who was recovering from a disillusionment, having fallen through the atmosphere and burned up... like a comet.

Their mutual understanding stemmed not only from a past they wanted to forget, but also from a past that hurt them deeply. It wasn't better or worse... but it was a different facet of it.

2. What You Don't Know Can't Change Ya

When Steven FIRST met Rose, before she knew who he was... she was arguably MUCH sillier and 'naive'. (I would argue that Rose is not really naive so much as she is aggressively positive.)

The change in her overall characterization came about after Steven poofed her (a bit of a reality check) and when he began to question the gems about the colonization of earth, which made her a bit more morose. I feel like that's not entirely uncharacteristic, given how much it still weighs heavily on her mind.

3. Knowledge is a Curse

The REAL pivot in Rose's personality came at a specific plot turn.

When Steven brought Earl back to the Temple for the first time, and Rose recognized her, and subsequently connected the dots on who HE was..... she kind of lost it.

All the safety, anonymity, all the work the Crystal Gems have put in before this point, all became pointless in the blink of an eye. Her power was barely enough to protect her friends the first time. Now, she was reliving her worst nightmare, but in high definition.

I don't think it's clear in this shot, but Rose isn't looking at Steven. She's looking at Earl, who picks Steven up and pulls him away after her.

All at once, the past which she has been avoiding for so long has come back full-force, and for all she knows, she has no gems with her, and she isn't even sure if White is about to reveal everything she has worked so hard to hide, right before wiping the planet she loves clean off the maps - successfully and totally this time.

She had a bit of a crisis during the time Steven was sleeping, is what I'm saying.

It is at this point that Rose's personality changes significantly in the AU, and it is THIS personality that is most often sited as being 'different' from the canon show (the 2 minutes we got of Rose being Rose on tape - the video she made specifically for Steven.)

Rose becomes quieter. She stops smiling.

She observes more than she speaks. And when she does speak, she's usually confused and upset, especially at first, when she expects a White-level evil villain revenge/punishment plot around every corner.

And even after, when she calms down........ she realizes that the situation is even more complex.

But she can't even do that, because Steven doesn't know ANYTHING.

That puts the onus of protecting the secret on HER. She realizes that for the first time, she has power over White Diamond. The power to hurt... or the power to be kind.

In the end, we know which one she choses. And that's not out of character either, I'd hope. If we watched the same show, it won't be.

4. Little Diamond to Big Diamond

And it isn't as simple as 'Rose is more mature now'. But that's definitely a part of it.

The other part is that she really DOES have things continue to... happen.... that threaten the safety of the earth and the gems over and over again, and Steven is consistently not as powerful nor willing to take a strong stand as she expects him to be.

And even when she DOES show her earlier, sillier side, it's usually very promptly followed by a reality check.

She can't really take a break! She is constantly reminded that her worry-free time on planet earth is no longer for contemplating growth and plants and spending time with the Crystal Gems. The war is back on her doorstep. Again.

...and she is NOT any better prepared to deal with it than she was 5000 years ago.

So yes, this AU's Rose is a bit more... serious? But I don't think it's that far of a deviation, considering the pressure she's under. And I don't think it's unreasonable to say that she's still well within the realms of canon.

Then again, I get the feeling that the people who think I mischaracterize Rose severely expect her to be 1) stupid 2) selfish and 3) annoying.

People may have forgotten that the first time we see Rose... was the final version of her. And she has come a long way since the flashbacks we get at the end of the series.

And now that she's here... she still has further to go. 👀

[allzelemonz]

Caught: Javier Esquella X Micah Bell X Male Reader X Sean MacGuire

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and some Spanish things that might be masculine-ish Primary Sex: AMAB Secondary Sex: Omega Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Alpha Micah Bell, Alpha Javier Esquella, Beta Sean MacGuire, a/a/o, threesome, b/o, mating cycles/in heat, scenting, slurs, kissing, anal sex, hand jobs, mentions of breeding, Spanish pet names, Alphas fighting over an Omega, possessive behavior, admission of feelings, open poly ending Summary: Your heat sets in during a job, causing the Alphas to act aggressive to the point of being unable to control themselves. Sean does his best to help out as a Beta, but it’s not quite enough.

It didn’t occur to you until Arthur started acting strange. He of all people usually has some kind of self control, very unlikely to lose his head. But he shot the train passenger all the same. He had only grabbed your arm, trying to get your gun away from you. It wouldn’t have taken much to wrestle away and hit him hard enough to knock him out, but Arthur shot him. And then when Javier got a little close, acting in his usual flirty way, Arthur snapped at him.

“Leave the Omega alone.” He had said.

Arthur also wasn’t the kind of man to bring that sort of thing up, especially on a job. It’s the sort of thing outlaws don’t care about. Only time it matters is during heats and ruts and such, separation being necessary for everyone’s sanity.

“Ya feelin’ alright there, Arthur?” Sean had asked.

But Javier had already gotten defensive. “He’s not yours, cabrón.”

That was about when it clicked.

“Sean.” You had pulled him a little closer and the Beta caught the scent then.

“Oh, we’re right fucked, we are.”

He was right, of course. A bunch of Alphas on the job with an Omega in heat, only one Beta to try and stop them from killing each other on instinct. Fucked only began to describe it. And it only got worse when Micah and Bill got to the meeting spot where you were only supposed to be splitting takes before running back to camp.

Now you find yourself caught. Sean watches the Alpha’s closely as you stand behind him. No one’s tried to kill anyone yet.

“Maybe we can get ya away?” Sean offers. “Out to a cabin an’ ya can deal with things?”

“They’ll kill each other, Sean.” You sigh. “They need a Beat around to help them keep their heads.”

“An’ you need a Beta ta keep ‘em away.”

“I see you’re smarter than you look, Sean.”

“Ah, shove it.”

Micah’s voice cuts in, louder than the rest. “Hold on, cowpokes… the Beta’s gettin’ friendly.”

Sean looks between the Alphas and the harsh looks that form on their faces. “I ain’t doing anything, boys.” He laughs. “Honest.”

“Ain’t yer place.” Bill mutters.

Arthur’s the closest, his scent hits you first and you grit your teeth not to whine. The noise you can stop, but not the slick. No, the slick seeps out and you know what that does to Alphas when they smell it fresh.

“Sean, we need to run.”

It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy spending a heat with one of them, it’s the situation that scares you. No nest, no real privacy, no contraceptive herbs, four Alphas.

“I hear ya, big man.” Sean says shakily, his arm situated in front of you as you both back away to the horses.

But the Alphas follow with their aggressive scents in full force and the horses are more than spooked. They bolt into the trees, leaving you and Sean with significantly less options.

“What now, cowpokes?” Micah grins.

Sean panics, every bit of his instincts in this moment are to protect and he can’t find a way to do it. “You, uh, you lads can’t all have ‘em… can ya?”

He’s unsure of the tactic, trying to pit them against each other again, but Bill is easily fooled. The large man lunges at Micah, Arthur follows suit with Javier. Sean takes careful steps back, guiding you with him, until you’re far enough away to turn and run. It feels terrible and it hurts, moving so much during heat and an early heat at that.

“Okay…Okay…” Sean stalls, catching his breath. “Hope the lads don’t… kill each other…”

“Probably helps if I’m not there.” You groan, feeling the pain in your balls as the slick sitting there fills much more than it should. “Shit…”

“Ya alright?” Sean guides you to sit against a tree.

“Their fucking scents made everything come faster.”

Sean nods. “Right, right, cabin… ya need a cabin er somethin’.”

“I don’t… shit, Sean, help me.”

“Help ya?”

You nod, the pain making needles shoot everywhere. “It won’t hurt so much… if the fucking slick gets released.”

“Right.” Sean nods. “How’s tha’ work?”

You put your head back against the tree, wishing you had one of the older Betas around that actually knew what they’re doing. “Sex, Sean.”

He smiles for a moment before he registers it fully. “Ah… right.”

“J-Just a handjob.” Your hands fumble at your pants. “I… fuck, I just need to get rid of the slick.”

He watches as you get your dick out of its confines, hardened from the heat and the scents. You grab his wrist and guide his hand to it, groaning at the feeling of his fingers as they wrap around you.

“It’s not gonna take much.” You breathe. “Do it… do it fast, they’ll smell it.”

“Right… Right…” Sean nods, swallowing thickly as he moves his hand.

You try to hold things back for Sean’s sake. His face is so red and Beta’s don’t have the same reactions and instincts Alphas do. He has no idea what this kind of thing feels like and he’s probably never helped anyone through it given his age. Still, he knows how to give a handjob and he has you over the edge in minutes. The slick spurts out heavily and the pain in your balls subsides. It’ll come back when they fill again, repeatedly until you can’t make any more and your body’s had its fill of pleasure.

You take heavy breaths as Sean pulls his bandana off, wiping his hand. He moves to wipe the slick from you but you stop him.

“No point, pants are already ruined.” You groan as you stand, putting yourself away in your pants. “We gotta go.”

“You’re not going anywhere, chiquitito.”

You turn to see Javier with his gun pointed at Sean. He gestures to the side and Sean puts his hands up, following the command and stepping away from you.

He keeps his gun on Sean, turning his head to you. “Come ‘ere, sweet Omega.”

You already have his scent in your nose and your instincts drive you forward. Javier’s not a bad guy, you might’ve asked for his help anyway. One Alpha you can handle.

“Ya okay, big man?” Seans asks you.

You take a shaky breath, pulling your mind to answer. “It’s alright, Sean. Just-Just watch out for the others.”

Javier lowers his gun as you reach him, holstering it to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a kiss. His lips are soft despite the desperation he puts into it. He pulls you against him, hardly a part of your bodies not touching.

“You want me, Omega?” He grunts as you grind your dick into his.

“Help me, Javier.” You say, still holding some of your sense.

He chuckles. “You want me…” A groan as you grind into him just right. “Even when you’re not in heat, don’t you?”

“Shit, Javi…” You gasp as his hands grip tight to your ass. “I do, I really fucking do.”

“I’ll remember that, amor.” He presses kisses along your jaw, trailing until he can take in your scent from the patch. “You smell so damn sweet.”

“Bet he does, greaser.” Micah’s voice, followed by the click of a hammer.

You both freeze, but you can feel the pain coming back in your balls as the slick starts filling again. Having the scents of two Alphas isn’t helping either.

“Micah…” You whine, reaching out for him.

He takes your arm in his hand, pulling you away from Javier and into his chest. Javier turns, hands in the air as he fixes a glare on Micah. You’re not opposed to Micah helping you either, it’s them fighting about it that has you worried.

“S-Share.” You manage to get out before you groan from the pain. “It’ll help more if you…” You wince as slick forces its way out of your dick, what’s dripping from your ass not leaving fast enough. “Both of you, fuck me, please…”

Javier grins. “I can share, bello, since you asked so nicely.”

Micah’s fingers flex over his gun as he looks between you and Javier. Your hands grip at his jacket, your scent patch so close to his face. He holsters his revolver.

“Fine.” He snaps, turning to you and scenting deeply. “I’m goin’ first.”

Hands fly fast and you’re not fully sure who pulls whose pants down. Micah turns you around and Javier gets in front of you. Javier’s hands are gentle as they hold your hips still for Micah to push inside. You can feel the slick gushing out as he does, more leaving your balls to compensate and it gives you enough relief to feel the pleasure and let your instincts take over.

“Alphas…” You say in a moan.

“I think he likes your cock, Bell.” Javier mocks as his hands run under your shirt. “You want ‘em to knot you, mi amor?”

Micah’s lips press along your neck, his hips fucking into so much that you feel Javier’s clothes rub against your dick. If you weren’t in the middle of the woods, if you had a nest, you’d say yes.

“I-I… need…” You shutter from Javier’s hands on your chest. “n-nest…”

“We’ll find a place.” Micah whispers against your ear. “Nice spot ta breed ya, darlin’.”

Javier’s hand drops to your dick, squeezing as Micah thrusts. “You want us to fill you up, amor?”

His other hand goes to your stomach, fingers pressing against it just in time to feel Micah’s seed flood inside and make you swell for a moment before it leaks out without his knot to hold it in. Javier’s hand is what makes you cum, slick shooting out over his clothes.

“That’s it, corazoncito.” Javier soothes. “Let it out.”

“Cabin then?” Micah muses, his hand running over your scent patch. “Give ya a proper fuck, cowpoke?”

You nod, your voice not quite coming to you. Your scent dies down as the lull sets in and slick dries, giving the Alphas a bit of clarity as they find a good spot. Javier gets your pants, your gun belt, everything Micah had shed, and carries them in one hand as he helps you walk with the other. Micah walks in front, guns drawn in case of danger, as he searches for a cabin.

Sean is probably so occupied with the two bigger Alphas that he doesn’t have time to think about where Micah got off to. You can’t imagine having to rein in Bill and Arthur, Micah and Javier are much easier even without the scent of heat.

Micah spots a place, an old cabin in the trees. A little dilapidated, but enough to work. Javier gets you inside, lowering you to the floor carefully as Micah looks around. He comes back with some old blankets as Javier sets your belongings down.

“Ain’t much.” Micah sighs, shrugging off his jacket. “Here, cowpoke. Ya like the smell, right?”

You take it from him, too focused on putting the nest together to thank him much but the gesture does warm your heart.

“Can’t see why, you smell like shit.” Javier mutters.

“Least I ain’t covered in lady’s perfume, ya-“

“Stop.” You say plainly, still mostly focused on the nest. “Don’t like it when you fight.”

You can still smell their hostility but you can’t get the stupid blankets to sit right so you ignore it. Micah’s jacket makes a good pillow despite the leather, it’s cold so it’ll be nice when you’re overheating from all the intimacy. Most of the blankets are ratty but it’s all you have so you make it work. You’ve never had a heat so unprepared before but it seems to be turning out fine.

The ache returns and you look up at the Alphas to get out some final words while you’re all still thinking clearly. “I do actually like you both, it’s not just the heat.”

Micah shuffles on his feet before settling his hands on his gunbelt. “Coulda said somethin’ sooner, cowpoke.”

“Can’t speak for the asshole, but I would’ve been sweet if you asked, mi amor.”

Micah’s scent picks up again and you stand between them. “Stop. We figure that out when I’m over this.”

“Fine by me.” Javier shrugs. “You’re starting to smell sweet again, chiquitito.”

“I know.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you feel the slick threaten to drip from your ass. “Whatever you don’t want stuck smelling, keep away from the nest.”

You settle yourself back down onto the blankets as Micah and Javier shed their clothes and weapons. The heat starts to settle in again with the added excitement of seeing the men more and more nude. You take off your own clothes, tossing them away from the nest. You kind of like the shirts and you’ve managed to not get slick on them yet, you don’t plan to now. Javier is skinny, still built, but he has a certain slim frame for an Alpha. Micah is very different, still having not shed his shirt, he has a wider frame with enough extra skin to make you want to feel it. Which is why you’re disappointed when he doesn’t take off his shirt at all.

“Micah?” You can feel your mind clouding again, his probably is too. “Why the shirt?”

Javier pays no mind, settling down next to you and trailing a hand along your leg. His scent travels to you and Micah is right now that you think about it, it’s mixed with a lot of cologne.

“Ain’t nothing ta worry about, darlin’.” He says, laying down on the other side of you.

“It is if I wanna see you.” You turn to him, his scent hitting you now as well and it’s much stronger than Javier’s.

Micah distracts you, pulling you in for a kiss, before you can bring it up again. The heat really hits now, with Micah’s attention and Javier pressing himself close to you from behind. Micah lets his hands wander over your body as yours hold his face, Javier presses kisses over your neck as his hand gently feels around your hole for the slick to gather properly. You grind against it, the instincts coming over you and wanting nothing more than to be full. And Javier isn’t one to keep you waiting. He grips your hip, his knee nudging your legs apart a bit as he pushes inside. You moan against Micah’s lips and have to pull away as Javier starts to fuck into you.

“Alpha…” Your hands drop to cling onto Micah’s shirt.

His eyes flick away from you for a moment, looking behind you at the other Alpha.

“You can have him when I’m done, amor.” Javier whispers in your ear. “My Omega.”

His thrusts push you solidly against Micah and he holds in place for Javier. The feeling of Micah’s dick grinding against yours sends you over the edge, but Javier doesn’t stop. You shutter with his movements, the slick rebuilding fast but you can feel more of him now.

“Javi…” You whine. “K-Knot me, Alpha.”

He smirks against your skin, pausing the kisses along your neck. “I will, mi pequeño tesoro. Anything for you.”

Micah pulls you back into a kiss, hungry and possessive. Likely annoyed Javier’s knotting you first. His hand grabs your dick, pumping it fast. Your nose clogs with nothing with his scent as he gets angry.

“Greaser don’t feel as good as me, do he, Omega?” He growls and it makes your head spin. “Yer mine.”

“Cum for me, Omega.” Javier whispers, his hips faltering as his knot starts to build.

You do, covering Micah’s shirt in slick again, coating his hand too. Javier knots, burying himself and pumping you full with nothing able to drip out. With Javier filling you, another lull sets in and in a few seconds you all have a bit of your minds again.

Javier settles his head to rest on your shoulder. “You know, amor, good chance of, uh…”

“I know.” You sigh, your head resting against Micah’s forehead as you get a chance to admire his eyes between surprisingly soft kisses. “Hosea’ll have something to stop it.”

“Good.” Javier chuckles. “No one wants another Micah around camp.”

“Shut it, greaser.”

Javier picks his head up to look at Micah over your shoulder. “That’s starting to become a little endearing when you say it, estúpido.”

“Sounds like you wanna fuck him more than me half the time.” You mumble, agreeing.

“If I didn’t want my turn, I’d shoot ya both.”

“Your turn with him or me?” Javier laughs.

Micah growls and it makes you duck your head on instinct.

“Don’t make shit start until Javier’s relaxed, asshole.” You hiss.

He presses a kiss to your head and mumbles a hardly present apology.

Javier tightens his grip around you as he settles again. “What happened with Arthur an’ Bill anyway?”

“Hell if I know.” Micah mutters. “Don’t righty care, s’long ‘s they stay ‘way from here.”

You feel Javier trail his lips along your ear. “Omega’s choice, Micah.”

“Don’t start.” You sigh.

“I’m close enough, mi amor, might as well get started.” His hands drop a bit to softly palm your balls. “You would have fucked them too, right? Needy little Omega, just needed an Alpha ta fuck him.”

You groan at the attention from his hand. “Don’t just wanna fuck you idiots.”

“But you wouldn’t say no to them, would you?” Javier teases. “We’re sweet but you’d let them fuck you rough.”

“He ain’t a whore, Esquella.”

“Never said he was, just that he probably wouldn’t mind letting Bill and Arthur fuck him ‘til he couldn’t talk.”

“Our job.” Micah growls, pressing himself against you.

“Ooh, now you wanna share, puta.”

“Shut up…” You breathe shakily, their teasing and Alpha scents making the heat start up again in a rush. “Just… both of you fuck me, it might make things end sooner.”

“Why would we want it to end, chiquitito?” Javier muses. “You smell so sweet when you’re in heat.”

“I’m serious, Javi. It’s not safe out here, this needs to end soon.”

“‘s all right, Omega.” Micah hums. “We’ll take care ‘a ya.”

[britcision]

Can I inflict a thought on you?

Apiary dynamics dungeon meshi party. It's an affliction that's technically non-human in origin. It makes all of their specific tendencies even worse. They can only separate so far. Everyone can only deal with some of the consequences.

-Faer

👀

I mean I’m chewing my way slowly through the omegaverse version so it’s not out of my way

(The elves have weaponized their omegas’ “if the fight gets to us it’s to the death IMMEDIATELY” lack of chill to form the Canaries)

I gotta do a rerun through the levels but off the top of my head I am gonna start unconventional

Chilchuck’s the queen

It’s his dad energy. He doesn’t necessarily accept anyone he works with into the hive, but all the half-foots are his and hooboy does it make him cranky to be away from the guild HQ

But he couldn’t let any of his people go down to the dungeon as deep as Laios and Falin were planning, so he dusted off his gear and assumed it’d be quick

Except

Falin caught Apiary

And Chilchuck has not yet worked out how to get her into his hive-union cuz she’s definitely not a half-foot, but the adoption process already started

(Godiva’s tempting for Falin with her healing to have the nurse/caretaker role, but she’s just so bonk happy I’m going with Arcadia. She likes to go and collect things and gather up the bugs and bring people snacks, she basically did not notice any change

She’s just. Slightly more insistent that people eat the things she brings them. And more likely to run off after shiny things)

None of them know Chilchuck’s a queen, and at first it was only Falin so he was just Suffering but making do

But Falin died

And that’s his goddamn hivemate he’s not going anywhere like it or not - maybe being estranged from his bio kids (they did not agree to move and join the union and he’s. Not up to trying to persuade them.) makes him overly aggressive, or just overly protective and unusually likely to risk himself rather than his hivemates

(He’s still not goddamn fighting and you can’t make him this is what he has hivemates for!)

Senshi is sitting on the Arcadia/Godiva line too, because he is a hive of one but did not question why he fell so easily in with Laios (Chilchuck’s) group

(Chilchuck is not sure how he keeps acquiring all these other definitely-not-half-foots as hivemates (it’s because you keep leaving the hive and miss your kids sir you’re pack bonding with rocks) but dammit he’s got another one)

Marcille and Laios don’t catch apiary until they get hit with the dryad spores in the dungeon’s depths, but they’re both Ivanhoes so there are no immediate consequences if you don’t count them both suddenly getting way more protective of the others

Izutsumi is Izutsumi

Both Flokes are Godiva, Tansu’s the queen and yes this is why they acquire new grandbabies so readily

And because I’m Basic™️, the Canaries!

Cithis is not apiary but she can and will steal every single fucking hive she sees, immaculate queen vibes

Lycion’s a Godiva, natural caretaker who is the tank pretty much by default so he gets antsy when he has to do combat chores rather than tending to his hive

Fleki isn’t apiary but she’s godiva-sexual because godDAMN she needs someone competent to take care of her and she likes belonging

Otta has had shots to prevent catching apiary but they make her read like a Libertine (drone) to the other bees. She is very okay with this

Pattadol has only just got her anti-apiary shots but it might be too late for her tbh

Flamela’s a Quixote, she caught it from her twin after they got a visit from the capital (mmmmmm high rates of apiary among noble elves? Maybe?), her twin was being raised to be the next queen but Flamela’s just waaaaaaay too aggressive and wants to stab everything

This makes it significantly harder for her to work with Mithrun, who was a Quixote before he got broken by the demon and is now a deeply fucked up little Godiva

(because he really does try and save every single dungeon lord. All of them. He wants to help them, get them away and let them recover too. And if they won’t he’ll kill them)

This leads to them butting heads all the harder because Flamela’s instincts insist Mithrun should be the one sticking behind her and letting her go do the dangerous shit, but all of their orders INSIST Mithrun go running face first into danger and she has to hang back

And neither of them are gonna disobey the queen but Mithrun’s just not particularly connected to his gender for anything except the dungeon lords, so he doesn’t act like a Godiva except when he’s around a dungeon, and then he’s full Mama Bear and you stay the fuck outta his way until he determines if this dungeon lord is Baby (to be saved) or Toast

(He still doesn’t feel any of his apiary needs either, but the squad try and feed those for him by eating in front of him and taking care of him alongside their own care routines, so they can make sure he’s alright and he can see they are too

Most of that falls on Lycion as their other Godiva but it feeds his gender needs too so it all works out)

Milsiril’s actually secretly winning the record for Most Broken Godiva though (she hoards children, easy) because she constantly craves a caregiving role, but her own special brand of dungeon PTSD and asocial personality disorder make it extremely hard for her to actually form the interpersonal bonds that would make it satisfying for her

So her serial-parenting of shorter lived folks gets drastically worse, she’s the most helicopter of helicopter parents, and occasionally (regularly) leaves any trip to town with more kids than she started with

Milsiril is no longer allowed to go into town

She also absolutely did try and kidnap Mithrun into her hive rather than letting him go to fight the demon, it was 1000% a trap but because she can’t form bonds well and Mithrun can’t form bonds at all he basically wandered off one day while the kids were being noisy and they both forgot about the whole thing

Milsiril doesn’t remember it until Kabru mentions meeting Mithrun after everything’s over so she does make another vague ploy to kidnap him but Mithrun’s busy making noodles with Senshi and doesn’t notice

Kabru has had every apiary shot and takes his meds every day he is NOT catching what Milsiril got… but he’s real good at spotting it in others and playing it up

Edit: for anyone wondering about apiary:

@faeriekit I dunno if you expected this much but if not you should have by now 😅

[captain-mj]

Graves obsessed with Price killing Shepherd VS. Price obsessed with Graves in that suit FIGHT

No but seriously, I'm loving this, thank you for always being the fucking boss when it comes to PriceGraves

I like to think when Graves does find out Price has been jerkin it to him in the suit, he gets offended because that's not even his best suit! So he just casually puts on his best one and takes some definitely not work appropriate photos in it and leaves them on Price's desk as a thank you for killing Shepherd :3

I'm combining like... so many people's asks into this because I got a ton of asks along this idea! I hope everyone likes it <3

Graves knew that Price had killed Shepherd. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Nor did it come as a shock that he found it attractive. Murder was always a good turn on for him.

No, the true surprise of the night was that Price found him attractive in a suit. And that none of his friends (coworkers? Family?? Graves was unsure) were unhappy about this.

Right now, they were trying to do an... intervention? Of some kind? They were currently going over a list of his crimes to date, most of which were stuff they had also done, just framed in a significantly worse light..

Graves was wearing a suit at the moment, having been wearing one for a meeting that he was going to have with Farah and a few higher ups in the Russian government. It was supposed to be just a few things to smooth over everything and she thought his presence might be helpful. Alex would also be there and he was also in a suit. Apparently Gaz had been particularly excited about it. Not excited enough to overlook Price's... interest though.

He was listening to them talk to Price about all of the bad things. They tried to get Alex to pitch in but he just vouched that Graves was a pretty nice guy, just goal oriented. When he had a mission, he didn't stop.

Graves appreciated the comments. He looked at himself, thinking about his much more expensive, much more fitted suit. They had only gotten through Ghost, the least talkative one, in the time that Graves was listening, so he took this as an opportunity.

Graves went back to his room and got redressed. He put on some cufflinks, even added a few rings. This was his chance to maybe get Price as obsessed with him as he was.

They had moved on to Soap who was ranting at length about the fact that Graves shot Soap in the shoulder, which wasn't even correct because technically it was one of his Shadows.

Graves waltzed in, pretending to be fixing his sleeves. "Alex, I think the time zones got me a bit messed up. How long until our meeting?" He glanced at them and he made sure to look... unimpressed.

Price grabbed his jacket and immediately put it in his lap. Graves almost smirked, but instead, he just glanced around at them.

Soap and Gaz looked defeated. Graves wasn't good enough at reading Ghost to figure out his expression. He thought it was acceptance honestly. Ghost had known Price the longest according to what he had heard and he must know what Price looked for.

Graves talked to Alex for another moment, hearing Gaz whisper shout at Price "Really?? You're bricked up right now??"

Alex answered, clearly trying not to smile. "Actually, we should probably go now. We'll be back in two hours, guys."

Graves waved at them and if he made sure to make eye contact with Price, fluttering his eyelashes before leaving, Alex close behind.

Alex waited until they were out of earshot of the two of them. "He's down bad."

Graves smiled. "Yeah... Might have to take him on a date. Think if I treat him somewhere fancy, he'll let me take him home?"

"On the first date?? Probably if you wore a suit."

-

Graves groaned as he came home. The meeting ran late but he was excited to be home to take a shower. He went to take off his jacket before Price cleared his throat.

Graves glanced at him, in the dark, beanie on and in civvies. "Was this what Shepherd saw in his last moments?" He motioned to him.

Price nodded and took a puff of his cigar. "Yeah, it was. Different shirt though."

"Ah..." Graves felt his mouth go dry. He was so hot it made his head dizzy.

"Am I making you nervous, Commander?"

"Not at all, Captain. I'm actually glad I'm talking to you."

Price leaned back and spreading his legs a little more, as if getting comfy. "Really?"

"Interested in dinner with me?"

Price's expression didn't change as he slowly took another drag. He was luckily Graves didn't mind cigar smoke. "I wouldn't mind it."

"There a particular reason you covering your lap right now?"

Price didn't look away. "You're sexy in those suits. You changed on purpose."

"Knew you'd see right through me, even if your team can't." Graves slid his jacket off, not missing the way his eyes lingered. "Be nice to me and I'll wear a suit on our date."

Price laughed softly. "Right..." He stood up and walked closer, clearly looking Graves up and down. They were both too confident. Headstrong. Ambitious.

The sex was going to be mindblowing.

"I look forward to our date, Commander."

"I said dinner. Not a date."

Price's eyes widened a little, reminding Graves of the puppies in commercials. Quickly, he corrected himself. "Of course it's a date, Captain. I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Price nodded but he took a moment to admire the view before leaving.

[screamforyani]

r u mine?

pairing ↠ jj maybank x (f) reader x ethan landry

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, angst, unprotected sex, best friend!jj, panty thief!jj, violence, murder, mentions of blood, character death

summary ↠ jj doesn’t like your old best friend and it shows. it’s not like he even tries to hide it. you don’t know if it’s possible to keep him both happy and safe in the fight for survival.

wc ↠ 5.7k

author’s note ↠ pt. 2/4 of the still friends, not lovers series. feedback is appreciated!

“He had you hurt.”

Nothing but silence filled the patio. Matter of fact, apart from the hisses you smothered with a lip bite, it had been off-puttingly silent until now. Whether or not you preferred it over the fussing was a good question. 

Your parents (obviously) weren’t home. Given the news of the recent attacks, they were locking up the shop before the newly implemented curfew arrived. No sooner had you made sure Ethan was alive and okay than you drove back home and called JJ over. 

Naturally, calling your best friend was your first move. Save for the burden of feelings flush against your chest, you never kept anything from him. 

“We were both caught off guard. There was nothing he could do,” you mumbled under your breath, feeble. 

He hadn’t been there to see the things that you saw or hear the things that you heard. Ethan told you that he loved you. He sacrificed his life to protect you from a literal killer. He was willing to have something way worse than a slice to the shoulder happen to him for your own survival. 

JJ shook his head, declaring, “I would have never let anything happen to you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” JJ insisted, wrapping a sterile bandage around your arm. 

You sighed. “Why do you hate him? He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Hate is a strong word,” he replied distractedly, wiping your blood off. “I don’t know. I just hate the guy.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. This boy was impossible. But you loved him and that was why you were trying to hear him out. “So, you hate him for no reason?”

“No, no - there’s a reason for everything. I just don’t know what it is yet,” JJ said, sounding like his typical self. “I just have a gut feeling.”

Sitting up on the lounge chair, you cocked him a look. “Let me get this straight. You hate him because you got a vibe.”

“Not a vibe. A gut feeling,” JJ corrected. Like there was a discernible difference. 

Your two best friends’ dislike of each other made you feel cornered. Ethan was significantly less obvious and unabashed about his feelings, but you noticed the way he’d stiffen a little at the mention of your current best friend. Maybe if they tried to like each other, things would be easier on your end, but you knew that would never happen. 

You really needed a new plan.

For whatever reason, JJ felt the need to continue, “I’m just saying what are the odds that as soon as those guys show up, bodies start dropping like flies.”

“It’s summertime and we live on an island. I’m sure they’re not our only visitors,” you reminded monotonously, as if you were bored of this conversation. 

You were.

Like none of that mattered, JJ suggested, “Or B, he’s a serial killer.”

Irritated, you shot, “Jesus fucking Christ, Jayj. When are you going to be honest with yourself and admit you’re just jealous?”

If you wanted to go the whole mile, JJ was willing to race you there. “Me - jealous? You think I care that much?”

“Obviously, you do,” you hissed. 

JJ’s first instinct was to run. He couldn’t let you be right. “You know what, if you wanna run all over the island with him, cool. Just don’t call me when shit hits the fan.”

“JJ,” you shouted after him. 

There was no point. JJ was already hopping over your back fence, coming out the way he had come in. His motorbike was parked behind your house just in case he needed to make a quick escape. Your mother would have a heart attack if they found out he was in their house alone with you and your father would kill him. 

JJ mounted his bike and started to leave. You gawked. Leave it to him to disappear. Any sudden moves and you would scare him away. 

Shaking your head in reproach, you turned to sit back on the lounge chair. Unbelievable, you wanted to scoff under your breath. Given your nature, you’d gotten into your fair share of arguments with JJ throughout the years, but this felt like the stupidest. And there were many, many stupid fights. 

Accusing Ethan of being a serial killer was the last straw for you. You were sick of him making assumptions about somebody he knew nothing about. That was JJ, though. He acted like he knew everything. 

Still, you weren’t really mad at him. Just frustrated. There was so much happening. Way too soon. And when he blew up like that you got scared to tell him how you felt. 

You decided that you would be keeping your feelings to yourself. Not telling him things didn’t feel right, but it was for his own good. What good would it do to tell him that you slept with your old best friend but you thought you still liked him?

None whatsoever. He would rage. 

You heaved a breath. Just when you thought that you had it all figured out, shit got complicated all over again. Before Ethan came, you were certain about your feelings. You planned to confess to JJ sometime this summer. 

Now, you were torn. Was it possible to be in love with two people at once? Not to mention your best friend was totally off-limits. 

Your phone pinged. Your heart raced at the thought that it was JJ, or maybe even Ethan, but you were slightly disappointed when you saw that it was Sarah. 

sarah: i know you’re in the middle of boy drama but don’t forget that there’s a party tomorrow night 

you: me? boy drama? pfft

sarah: right haha so funny 

sarah: bring a date?

you: you’re my date duh

sarah: not sure if john b will like that 

you: i’ll fight him

sarah: i’ll be holding the camera 

You giggled. Fuck, you definitely needed it. 

A party with all of your good friends to take your mind off your boy drama (as she had aptly named) didn’t sound like the worst thing ever. There was just one thing. A literal killer was on the loose. Granted, it was before curfew, but that wouldn’t prevent a strike. 

The police couldn’t have the event canceled, but you heard that they would be supervising the event. As far as you were concerned, Shoupe was still convinced your friends were behind the attacks and was probably hoping to use a gathering to bait you out. 

Nonetheless, when five o’clock the following came, you were at Topper’s clad in a turtleneck and your favorite mini skirt. To be honest, you were a little antsy about partying on the kooks’ turf. Specifically because whenever kooks or pogues were on the wrong side of the island everything took a wild turn.

Every time without fail. 

“I don’t want no trouble from you tonight, young lady,” Shoupe said when you made the misfortunate mistake of passing his car. 

You pivoted on your heels, forcing the sweetest smile. “I’ll be on my best behavior, sir, but I really hope you’re giving them a similar speech.”

You cocked your head at Topper, Rafe, and Kelce, who were currently huddled together cracking jokes by the drink bar. 

Shoupe had some jokes to get off of his own and asked, “Ain’t that your boyfriend?”

Wrong former kook, you thought irritably. “I believe you’re thinking of Sarah. No, either way,” you said sharply. You left out the part that you’d hooked up with Topper some years back. Though that was before he decided that Sarah was the love of his life. 

“If you say so, kid. Have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you muttered, darting away from him quickly. 

You decided to hide by the snack stand which, in hindsight, wasn’t a favorable hiding spot. Heaving a relieved breath, you reached for a fruit. Finally free.

Not. 

“Hey, princess,” came a familiar voice behind you. 

Ever so slowly, you turned around, forcing a smile when you locked eyes with Rafe. God fucking dammit. “Hi, Rafe,” you greeted. “Still on a mission to fuck all of your sister’s friends?”

“If you’ll let me,” Rafe said, more than a little flirty. 

Straight to the point. You almost respected it. This, unfortunately, was a recurring series of events that you had learned to deal with. Apparently Rafe, Kelce, and Topper were trying to pass you around, because though Topper was all eyes for Sarah, Kelce had directed more than a couple of flirty comments towards you.  

You, on the other hand, were highly disinterested. Rafe was the same dude who hated your friends and made your lives a living hell every spare chance he got. You just happened to be a pretty girl with kook money that Rafe made it a point to remind that she was too good for hanging out with pogues. 

“I’m kind of dating someone,” you lied through your teeth. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. You didn’t know what to make out of what happened with Ethan yesterday. 

Rafe obviously didn’t believe you, leaning onto the table. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“Me,” came another voice beside you. 

Your knight in shining armor was no other than JJ, the last person you wanted to see right now, but you decided that being with him was a whole lot better than having to tell Rafe to fuck off. 

Rafe shook his head, laughing. “You can do better than that.”

JJ was visibly upset, but rather than bite back, he grabbed your arm and said sternly, “Let’s go.”

There was no arguing with that tone. You let JJ drag you through Topper’s house as if he knew his way around and you ultimately found yourselves in a bathroom instead of a closet or something. Thank god. At least there was distance between your bodies and breathing room.

For a second, the two of you stood there in silence, sizing each other up for whatever reason. It was silent for at least thirty seconds before JJ had enough. 

JJ looked frantic, as if he had been searching his brain for what to say and had come short of adequate answers. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” you repeated, looking at him with folded arms and complete disinterest. It was only a facade, of course. 

JJ ran a hand through his hair. He had been beating himself over this for a whole day. When you two weren’t speaking, all his hours felt longer. “Look, I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to fix things. I just make shit worse.”

You held back a snort. To say the least. 

“You were right,” JJ confessed quietly. 

Playing clueless, you chirped, “About?”

JJ exhaled a breath before admitting, “I was jealous. I don’t wanna lose you to some guy.”

“I don’t wanna lose you to a killer,” you whispered, approaching him a little. “That’s what’s important to me right now. I want you to see that.”

JJ purchased his hands on your shoulders and replied, “I do see that. But I’m trying to tell you that I love you. That’s what’s important to me right now.”

“Oh.”

Your reaction made JJ recoil in regret. He backed away, getting cold feet, and said, “You know what, forget it.”

Before he could run like he always tried to, you rose on your toes and kissed him until you couldn’t think straight. JJ didn’t hesitate to pounce, smothering you with kisses as he returned your energy tenfold. 

His distracted hands were out of his hair and in your own for a second, just before slipping downwards. He couldn’t decide where to put them. Touching your bare skin, his fingertips found purchase at your very exposed waist, cursing at how beautiful you looked in this damn mini skirt.

You gasped into his mouth when he had the strange idea to hoist you into the air like you weighed sheets of paper and set you on the sink. Your fingers wildly got lost in his mane, legs locking around his hips, and the kiss deepened.  

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the first time that you’d kissed your best friend, much less in a bathroom. You had made out more than a few times growing up and hooked up once. Maybe twice.

None of it was supposed to mean anything. You were just trying to figure yourselves out while experimenting on each other. After a while, though, JJ told you it had to be the last time. You figured it was because he didn’t need you to experiment on anymore, because that was when he started to make his way around the island. 

That was the day you realized you had feelings for the one person you were forbidden from having feelings for. When it was too late. You tried undoing the damage, but you were past the point of no return. 

And you had been ever since. 

Warmth made itself known in your chest, your heart skipping a beat. She was singing a tune and calling out his name. You were so dizzy with love. 

“I love you, too,” you told him with a wild grin, breaking away. 

JJ playfully groaned, “What took you so long?”

In your head, you were wondering the same thing. “I’ve loved you for so many years,” you sighed. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

You retaliated sharply, “Why didn’t you?”

JJ threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Good point. Great point, even.”

You giggled, pecking his lips.

JJ nipped behind your ear, grinning slyly when you sighed contentedly. If memory served, that was always the spot for you. He purred into your ear, “I want you more than anything right now.”

Your eyes flickered. “You want to hook up in Topper Thorton’s bathroom?”

JJ chuckled at the mere thought. “Sounds like perfect revenge, huh?”

You mulled it over. The asshole probably did deserve it, but that wasn’t what you were worried about right now. You were thinking about that day when JJ called it quits. 

Hands bracing the counter, you mentioned, “I thought you said we weren’t doing this anymore?”

“I say a lot of shit,” JJ responded, his body so close to yours that you could feel his heart racing. “And I only said that because I was scared. I felt myself getting attached to you in the wrong way and I just… fuck, I panicked.”

You appreciated the vulnerability that was being put into this conversation. Everything was on the table right now. His cards were flat. You were smiling like an idiot when you said, “You, JJ Maybank, are the biggest coward ever.”

JJ imitated your smile. “Only when it comes to you.”

For the longest time, you two just stared at each other’s lips. Then, JJ smashed his lips against yours again and you could feel the butterflies hyperactive in your gut. 

Well, you could always feel them when you were around him. But now they were being extra drama queens. 

The bathroom started to feel hotter, heat clouding the air. You were wholeheartedly expecting the mirror to get foggy and the windows too, had they (thankfully) not been covered by curtains. JJ’s hands were gripping your thighs and all you could think about was how you wanted to feel them everywhere. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered seductively. 

JJ had every intention of doing exactly that. “Whatever my girl wants, she’s gonna get.”

Your thighs tensed at those words. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Given the lack of space, it wasn’t much of a leap to make that he’d heard you. His breathy chuckle only confirmed your suspicions. 

Your heart was louder than ever when JJ peeled off your damp underwear and you didn’t even notice him adroitly stuffing them into his back pockets when they slipped by your ankles. If needed, he would follow you like a lost puppy the whole night just to make sure any creeps didn’t peek. 

Not to mention they were his favorite color. JJ almost growled. You were absolutely never getting those back. 

His hand slipped under your turtleneck, pinching your nipples none too roughly. You cried out in shock, finding his eyes, but all he did was chuckle. He always did do stupid shit like that. 

Then, JJ slipped two fingers into your pussy all while his other hand was still on your boob, and you moaned. You were internally thanking god that you’d decided to wear that turtleneck. JJ always had a thing for sucking marks onto your throat and you knew he would go ballistic if he saw those bruises. 

His fingers were so long and nimble, way too easy to fall apart on. The two times in a row that you’d had sex, he made you unravel either on his tongue or on his fingers. 

One day, you were hoping for both. 

You braced your hands on the counter, shifting left to right. Your whole body was unstill and it did things to JJ that had his cock twitching in his pants. His fingers attacked your sensitive bundle of nerves, knowing the perfect way to make you lose control. 

“Jay,” you said weakly, choking out your words. 

JJ audaciously invited a third finger to join the original pair and stroked them between your slick walls, simultaneously thumbing your clit. You tensed with sensitivity and braced your fingers on his shoulders, sighing while he taunted your sweet spot. JJ swore to himself, wishing he could mark up your throat, but seeing it was covered, settled for your thighs. 

Fire consumed your whole body. You couldn’t even think right now. His fingers were merciless, fucking you with a vengeance. Like they had something to prove. 

Much to your chagrin, your phone started to vibrate in your purse that you had hooked on the doorknob halfway through the first kiss.

Since he was the closest, JJ grabbed your phone from your purse and told you, “Answer it.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“Hurry up before it ends,” he said, just before immediately returning to fingering you. 

You glanced at the caller ID then pressed the phone to your ear, chirping, “Hello?”

Sarah said your name and exhaled a sigh of relief before huffing, “I’ve texted you like twenty times! I’ve been looking for you everywhere and Kie said the last time she saw you was with Rafe. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

With JJ coaxing those dreadfully long fingers in and out of you over and over again, you were salivating, mouth too dry to speak. “Um, I’m okay. I went to, uh, clear my head,” you quickly lied through your teeth. 

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I promise everything is peachy. I was just running all over Topper’s house looking for the bathroom a minute ago,” you said shakily, narrowing your eyes at JJ from above.

Your best friend was sporting the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen in your life. Fuck, you were tight and gushing around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to get his cock in you. 

“Good one,” JJ said none too quietly. 

Sarah asked, “Is that JJ?”

Apparently the bathroom was quiet enough for JJ to overhear her, because instead of shutting up when you shot him a icy glare, he raised his voice a couple of pitches and said, “Um, no, it’s actually not JJ. I’m… Jayla.”

“Jayla,” Sarah repeated skeptically. 

You were burning in a lethal combination of arousal and embarrassment. “Okay, so I might’ve fibbed. JJ and I are reconciling.”

JJ scoffed. That was one way to put it. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Sarah said, evidently more than a little confused. “Have fun with that, I guess.”

Your toes were clenching in your knee-high boots and your features tensed with mind-numbing pleasure, your phone nearly slipping onto the floor tiles. You stifled your moan with the back of your palm and squeezed your fingers around your phone, losing your mind a little. You bit your bottom lip, somehow managing a, “Bye,” in the midst of your muffled cries. 

You were quick to hang up the phone, sliding it to the very back of the counter, and finally let out a noise.

Now you could focus on what was important. Your impending orgasm prepared to sweep you under its current. JJ was intent on getting you there like he knew he could, strumming you to climax. 

You took a deep breath, which did absolutely nothing to stabilize you, and whimpered, “JJ.”

“I know, baby. You’re close,” he said, thinking back on the memories of you falling apart at his mercy. He knew what you at your peak looked like and this sight was familiar. 

He remembered being dumb and young with you, doing things you shouldn’t’ve but nothing that he regretted. He remembered drawing your body to the edge of the bed by dragging your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders, fucking you for hours while your parents were away. 

Every day he wished he would’ve never given that up. But he was a self-sabotager and he ruined things before shit could go wrong on its own. 

Your heart was beating frantically and your legs were starting to go numb. Merely seconds later you were climaxing with a loud cry of his name, and you only hoped the music reverberating outside the door muffled your sounds. 

“Atta girl,” JJ growled, watching your entire body go slack as your orgasm ripped through you. “Keep cumming for me. Just like that.”

His words made the whole room spin. It was a minute before you finally stilled, panting and breathing heavy and hard. 

JJ withdrew his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. You were practically salivating. “You still cum hard?”

“When the person making me cum knows how to get me off,” you mumbled through ragged breath. 

“Now I can put my dick in you,” JJ said wryly, grinning at your words.

You barely got the chance to catch your breath before JJ yanked you off the countertop and forcefully bent you over the sink, making you cry out in surprise. He knew that you liked it a little rough. Adrenaline pumped brutally through your veins when you heard him shuffling from behind you in an endeavor to slide down his pants.

Your core tightened with impatience. Every fiber in your being wanted his dick in you like yesterday. “Hurry,” you whined desperately. 

“Patience is key, baby,” JJ teased, though you could tell he was in a hurry just from the sound of him rushing to sink his underwear around his ankles. 

At least you thought he was in a rush, though you were getting the vibe that he was attempting to draw things out when he started to rub his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your throbbing didn’t stop there; it got worse. JJ let out a less than quiet curse-like grunt or two and felt the heat rush to his cock. 

It felt as if he was toying with you, tantalizing you with the thought of fucking your brains out. Which was all that you could think about. You had the memories of him stuffing you full of his dick on repeat in your head and they were like a nonstop spinning cycle. 

Those same memories were on his mind, too.  Muffling your moans with his palm when he heard your parents pulling into their driveway and escaping out your window after making sure you were alright. JJ threw his head back and cursed, “Fuck, you always get so wet.”

Thinking about what it felt like to be inside you shattered the last of his self-restraint and you cried out when he started to finally - fucking finally - push himself inside of your cunt. Your legs were spread apart, giving him all the room needed to fuck you like he meant it. 

JJ was slow and steady in his approach, never wanting to hurt you more than you asked for, crooning, “That’s right, baby. Take my cock.”

In that moment, you decided you would do anything for him. There was nothing you wouldn’t give for your best friend’s sake, though after this, you were hoping he’d be a little more than that. 

Not too long afterwards, every inch of him was buried deep inside of you. Though you knew you could take him, you were glad that he had stretched you out with your fingers. JJ was far from small and he was elated that you’d taken his size like a champ. “That’s my good girl,” he said proudly. “It don’t hurt, do it?”

“No, baby. Never,” you whispered distantly. Like you were already half gone. 

Only when JJ grabbed your hips like you were going to try to run away from him did he set a rhythm and that was the exact second you started to lose what was left of your mind a little. He just felt so criminally good. 

Sometimes after a couple of drinks when you were really horny (and buzzed) you would touch yourself in bed, imagining his perfect cock was stroking you to climax. Your pussy gripped him, remembering every vein. It killed you to wonder if he got off to the memories and the thought of what could have been. 

Little did you know, JJ could count on both hands how many times he’d been there on the other side of the island, fisting his cock in his hands while your cries played out in his brain. He missed the way you would choke out his name when his hand was wrapped around your throat too tight. 

Just the thought of it got you wet. Like you were back in that moment again. “Jay, fuck. Like that. Don’t stop,” you said with half of your voice.

“Shit,” JJ hissed, slapping his hips into you even harder. You gasped when he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your own reflection none too gently. “Look at yourself. Wanna make you watch.”

You did as told without a second thought. Sure, it was a little awkward to watch yourself getting fucked, but you immediately simpered when you saw how JJ’s face tensed with ecstasy and caught a glimpse of the hazy look in his stare. 

Your knees were knocking into the cabinet under the sink while you anchored your fingers at the edges of the counter, desperately attempting to seek purchase. The air was stuffy and the bathroom was too hot to breathe inside of. Your lips were parted, inhaling in between soft moans. 

JJ wasn’t exactly sparing in the way that he was fucking you and you loved every second of it. His pace was hard but it wasn’t too much, just at your limits. He kept watching you, almost like he was trying to breathe you in. Something about the sight of you making a mess on his cock tickled his brain the right way. 

As if you weren’t already struggling to breathe, JJ had the bright idea to grip your throat and cut off your exhale. The way you instantly tightened around his dick was very telling and he could no longer think. “Look at you, baby. My girl,” he whispered darkly. “Mine.”

Every time he called you his girl, you wanted to melt onto the floor or possibly down the sink drain. You loved being full of him and nothing but him. You loved feeling like you belonged to him. For a moment, it was that simple. Your whole body was owned by him and submitted to his touch. 

“Yours,” you choked out, not like you would have been able to say much even if his fingers weren’t around your neck. 

That riled JJ up a little too much. You shuddered when he landed a loud, resounding smack to your ass. The noise you made never left your throat. 

To say that JJ was a little obsessed would be an understatement. The wet squelch that filled the room with every thrust drove him mad with lust and there was no coming back down from that. You were squirming in his hold and the sight was to die for. 

The pleasure was killing you softly. For lack of a better word, everything just felt so right. He fitted inside of you perfectly, almost as if he was meant to fuck you. To say nothing of how he felt pressed against you. 

Sweat layered at your skin and you didn’t even notice, courtesy of the thick turtleneck keeping your upper half concealed, though you could definitely feel the moisture gathering at your back and between your boobs. He relaxed his grip and your neck and you promptly sucked in a breath, the feeling of his hand lingering at the base of your throat. 

The heat took you in and when your body could take no more you orgasmed again, weakly hissing out your best friend’s name as all of your strength died. You shuddered and shook, trying to get away from the stimulation, but JJ was having none of it and tightened his hold on you. 

For the longest time, you couldn’t even say a word. Tears fogged your eyes and blurred your vision, making everything around you a haze. You heard JJ’s euphoric sounds from behind, still wallowing in your heat. 

You were more than willing to let him use you to get off but you could tell just from the pitch of his voice that he was nearing finish and you were craving it with an overwhelming sense of need. “Jay, cum inside of me.”

JJ’s hooded eyes snapped open, as if he had been dreaming. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“I’m serious,” you said to him, smiling at his disbelief. “I want you to fuck me full.”

Now that you had said that, he was even closer than before, dangling over the edge and falling into you. JJ groaned. You knew exactly how to make him weak. 

His pace quickened, the urge to fuck you full of cum like you wanted turning him into something that resembled a beast rather than a mere man. You whimpered, sensitive, fiending for the afterhighs of sex. 

He was more than happy to give them to you, filling you with his load with a couple more quick thrusts and a guttural sound that shook you to your core. You moaned at the feeling of him stuffing you. 

For a minute or two, neither of you moved. You just wanted to stay like that forever. Then, JJ started to smother you with kisses and said, “You’re fucking perfect.”

You grinned, kissing him back. You felt so alive. 

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” JJ said with a shocking amount of enthusiasm. 

Approximately fifteen minutes later you were stammering out of the bathroom with JJ in tow, his arm wrapped possessively around your waist as he led you back outside.

The sky was a lot darker when you stepped onto Topper’s front porch, the sun being closer to setting. Thankfully, given that it was summer, you had longer nights and every intention to milk the daylight for all that it was worth. 

That was until you heard a scream. 

Naturally JJ’s first instinct was to cage you into his arms until he knew if there was a threat. Your heart fluttered at the gesture, but the very next second, you laid eyes on that familiar cloaked figure that had first taken out the flock of cops gathered outfront.  

“Not good,” JJ said, running a hand through his hair. “This is, like, really bad.”

Flinching in horror, you snapped, “No shit.”

Blood pooled around the array of police cars and you caught a glimpse of Shoupe’s brutally slaughtered body, left there for dead like an animal. The bodies of his co-workers were posed similarly and also very dead, sprawled across the asphalt. 

Rather than get his hands dirty, JJ decided to reopen Topper’s doors and grab your wrist, shuffling inside with you behind. Feet slapping against shimmering floor tiles, you tried to match his hurried steps. 

When you neared the steps, you cried out, “Jay, what about everyone else?”

“They’ll figure it out,” he shouted, almost as if he didn’t care. 

That was jarring to you. You stopped halfway up the stairway, unimpressed. “This is very unlike you!”

JJ whipped around, braced his hands on your shoulders, and said darkly, “Look, we get stabbed, we can’t do nothing for them. So come on.”

You guessed he was at least sort of right and let him lead you upstairs, checking out no less than three rooms before you finally found a bedroom and locked the door behind yourselves. Both of you scurried to the windows, watching the disaster unfold from afar. 

Fight or flight got the better of most people. Topper was playing hero and walked up to the masked maniac without a care in the world, and whether it was a brave or foolish decision was debatable. You dumbass, you chided in your brain, already seeing how this was about to play out. 

He was daring, you would give him that much. You saw him say something that you couldn’t exactly hear, but from his lips it looked like, “Hit me with your best shot, motherfucker.” 

It all happened in a blink. You winced your eyes shut when you saw the masked figure cold-heartedly stab Topper in the gut, only to withdraw the knife and stab back a number of times you weren’t willing to count. You glanced away for a second, the last thing you saw being Sarah panickedly rushing over to Topper’s body. 

Then, a second one emerged, and it was like nothing you had ever seen before. Not even in the movies. They both cornered Rafe, whose aggression quickly earned him a sawing through the arteries. 

You gasped in terror, hiding yourself in your best friend’s chest. Though you weren’t their biggest fans, that made it no less difficult to watch. There was blood spilled everywhere almost as if it was pouring down from the sky. 

“Shh, it’s gonna be fine. Don’t look,” JJ consoled, rubbing your back. “Don’t look.”

You didn’t look. Matter of fact, you kept your eyes anywhere but near that window, choosing to stare at JJ’s face instead. His features were grim, and you could tell just from looking at him that everything wasn’t going to be fine. 

But for your own sake, you filtered those dark thoughts out. It’s gonna be fine, you repeated to yourself. Whatever JJ told you, you were inclined to believe. It’s gonna be fine. 

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[ogize]

ねえ、百ちゃん、このタイプの銃は予想以上に強かったね....でも、君に落ちても気にしなかった...

I've had experience using firearms. Mainly for hunting simple small game back in my country with my father. But also for self defence since I would be going to a new country alone. Especially since there would be no way I would be able to compete using hand to hand combat against soldiers. Even if I preferred myself to have some muscle mass, it would be difficult. So handguns and short blades were my choice throughout our travel across Hokkaido. Efficient for both close combat and long distance.

One day, on my day off from working in the hospital, I found Ogata cleaning his rifle. I went up to him to talk to him and watch him. Since I had experience with guns, I was fascinated by them. When Ogata found out I had experience with firearms, he was taken aback initially. Women using firearms in Japan was almost unheard of. Ogata respects and admires my ability to do so. In the world and situation we live in, it's a beneficial skill. This was during the begining of our relationship, so this was one of the first times I've seen Ogata talk a lot. I had told him that I didn't have experience using an Arisaka rifle, he offered to teach me. I was ecstatic, I had feelings for him at this point so I yearned for any and every opportunity to get closer to Ogata.

In the early morning of the next day, me and Ogata went to a spot he frequently went to practice his shot. As he instructed me regarding the weapon, it took everything in me to concentrate on his words and not get distracted by how knowledgable he was. It got worse. The closeness between us as he adjusted my stance.... his smell, his warmth...Ahem...As much as I prepared for the recoil, I lost my balance and Ogata caught me. His hand holding me strong and grounding. I could have sworn I saw a slight red tinge in his ears, but in my flustered state wasn't sure. The next few rounds of shots were significantly better. And as days passed these lessons became more frequent. Eventually, Ogata taught me how to be his spotter. Which is a story for another day.

Commission: Akevikun