#curb stomp me already jesus fucking christ

[bedforddanes75]

its so embarrassing to me to tag my posts properly like hi....... look at what im posting........ look......m fucking embarrassing

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 3

Steve takes off towards the other side of the cemetery, not looking back to see whether Eddie’s following. 

“Wait,” Eddie stumbles after him, crunching loudly through the leaves, trying to catch up, “are you taking me to your lair to kill me?” 

“Lair?” Steve looks over his shoulder incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that. Jesus H. Christ, you have fucking light balls coming out of your hands.” He wiggles his fingers in the air in a poor imitation. “I don’t know anything about this shit. Do you need potions or spells or is that all just coming out of you naturally?” He nods towards Steve’s hands, now striding along through the woods at his side. 

“There’s no lair.” Steve doesn’t answer any of the other questions, but he does say, “I’m not going to kill you unless you don’t shut up. If you’re not more careful, they’ll find us and do the job for me.” 

“Who the fuck are you even talking about, man?” 

“The coven.” 

“There are more of you?” 

“Did you think I was just out here by myself figuring this all out?” He scoffs. “Of course there are more witches.”

“Aren’t witches normally chicks?” 

“You’re really testing the whole will this guy murder me thing, you know?” Steve comes to a stop, holding out his arm to stop Eddie in his tracks. He flicks his hand in a complicated gesture and a car blinks into existence in front of them. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Eddie reaches out and touches the hood of the car, testing whether it’s real. “Was that a cloaking spell or like did you shrink it down?” He spins around and gestures wildly with his hands. “Wait, was it teleportation? No, no. You probably would’ve teleported out of here if you could do that. Unless you can do it with objects, but not people.” He looks at Steve expectantly. 

All he gets is a blank stare.

“Cloaking,” he finally answers. “Get in.” 

“My uncle taught me to never get in the car with strangers.” Eddie says, but he’s already pulling the passenger door open and climbing in. Wayne’s going to murder him if this guy doesn’t. 

“You’re not a stranger, anymore,” Steve reminds him as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You’re Eddie and I’m Steve. Not strangers. You’re about to learn a hell of a lot more than you bargained for. I’m sure your uncle’s really proud of you right now.” 

“Bullshit, man,” Eddie huffs and tugs on his seat belt as they go careening around a curb. “Knowing someone is about more than a name. And leave Wayne out of this.” 

“You want to know more than my name?” Steve questions, speeding out of the graveyard and onto the deserted highway. 

“I just risked losing my job to follow a known necromancer to an unknown location to potentially get answers about whatever the fuck I just witnessed. So, yeah man, I want to know more.” 

He really hopes this guy doesn’t murder him. This is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to him and he’s seen some shit, burying dead bodies and all.

“You have no survival instincts.” Steve sounds disappointed, like Eddie is somehow letting him down with his inability to shut up.

“Duh,” Eddie laughs, a harsh sarcastic thing, “I’m the cat.” 

“The way you were stomping through the graveyard you’d think you were an elephant,” Steve mutters.

“Sorry some of us can’t be stealthy assholes that dig up graves in the middle of the night,” he brings up again, just to be a little shit. 

“I’m sorry about that, but I had to find the right one.” 

“The right one?” Eddie gapes at him. “You mean the right corpse?” 

“The right witness.” 

“Witness to what?” 

“The murder.” 

It takes Eddie a minute to put the pieces together, to recall the conversation he had with Wayne. To remember the ghost stories passed around Hawkins about the girl that disappeared.

“Is this about Barbara Holland?” Steve’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “You know who killed her?” Steve nods. “What are you going to do with that information?” 

“Hide,” Steve says.

“What do you mean hide?” 

“They’re going to come after me now.” 

“Who?” Eddie’s having trouble following. 

“The coven.” Like that’s supposed to make any sense to Eddie. “They knew we were looking for answers, but not how. If they find out I know what those people knew, I’m as good as dead.”

Steve turns into a nice neighborhood, one with the kind of houses Eddie’s never even seen the inside of, one’s that would have kids playing outside in the streets if it weren’t for it being the middle of the night. There’s a mansion, tucked into the trees that you could almost miss if not for its size, directly on the other side of the woods lining the graveyard. They pull into the driveway, but it doesn’t look like anyone is home. 

“Come on,” he says, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. 

“I’m not sure I understood anything you just said,” Eddie clamors after him, almost tripping over a hose left in the driveway by a well kept garden. “Are we robbing this place?” 

Eddie gets another incredulous look thrown at him as Steve says, “I live here.” 

Fuck. This witch is fucking rich. Of course the wealthy have time to dabble in the dark arts. Eddie’s out here working a shit job and this bitch is learning how to make zombies. Life really isn’t fair. 

Once they’re inside, Eddie whistles as he takes it all in. The pristine, cleanliness that feels foreign to Eddie, who grew up in a cluttered, but warm home. It’s almost clinically clean. Off white walls and spotless furniture. No knick-knacks or clothes strewn about.

“Guess your maid didn’t have the day off,” Eddie wonders out loud before he can stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes and heads upstairs, Eddie trailing after him so he’s not left standing in the foyer like an idiot. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to be left alone, like Steve might just disappear out of thin air if Eddie takes his eyes off him. 

What must be Steve’s room is infinitely worse than the rest of the house. The walls are an atrocious plaid pattern. Eddie’s eyes cross just glancing at it, but there are at least some personal touches in this room, even if Eddie wants to turn his nose up at them. 

But that all fades away when Steve pulls a bag out of his closet and starts going through the items like he’s taking an inventory. Pulling out potion bottles and little leather bound notebooks. There’s a larger book that looks ancient, which must be a spellbook. 

Eddie’s fingers itch to go over and riffle through the contents himself. His curiosity might actually get him killed one day, but he knows better than to pick up a random witch’s spellbook. It’s probably cursed. There are likely numerous unspeakable ways in which Steve could kill him, it would be a shame to die from his own stupidity. 

“What’s the plan here?” Eddie leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and legs, watching as Steve carefully repacks the bag and starts haphazardly throwing clothing into a second bag. 

“I told you,” he sounds frustrated, and a little panicked, “Hide.”

“And then what?”

Steve pauses, glancing up guiltily, “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I didn’t expect to find answers. Nancy and I didn’t prepare for this. We both lost hope a while ago, but we just kept trying anyway.” 

“Who the fuck is Nancy?”

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

[rozcdust]

Murder on my mind

Pairing: Petshop trio x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, Soulmate AU

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, violence, bodily harm, suggestive, profanity

Synopsis: Your soulmate is a fucking asshole and you’re absolutely tired.

pt. 1 | pt. 2

Now, you weren’t a particularly violent, or even mean person, in fact, you were an epiphany of an angel compared next to Ran and Rindou.

You did, however, promise yourself you’ll curb stomp your soulmate and make the fucker eat concrete as soon as you meet them, because Jesus fucking Christ.

They’re a fucking douchebag.

Some people have cute soulmate connections, like first words written on their skin, or a timer, or a birthdate, or one of their eyes matched those of their soulmates, or a mark where your soulmate will first touch you, but no.

Of course you couldn’t get that, of course it couldn’t be sweet and simple.

You got the worst fucking option possible.

You get your soulmate’s injuries.

And your soulmate was some fucking asshole that either did some sort of martial arts, got their shit rocked as a profession, or just got injured for fun because you’ve been black and blue since you were goddamn 11.

Sure, you got some minor bruises or cuts before that, but everything got worse at 12, but by the oh-so-old age of 15, you got so familiar with the ER staff that they gave you an affectionate nickname of ‘Aw poor baby’ and let you wrap up the cuts yourself, only occasionally jumping in to help if you got a broken bone or something that needed a scan.

All the radiation probably caused some brain damage, but you chose to not think about that, because you were absolutely focused on plotting your soulmate’s demise.

You were honestly tired of your face, ribs, legs and stomach being constantly bruised, the skin knuckles of your knuckles perpetually torn and bruised, the inside of your mouth bleeding randomly and at worst time possible.

Thank whatever prankster of a God there is that you didn’t get the pain from the injuries, because that would have actually made you go insane and probably send on a hunt to murder your soulmate, or get them locked away somewhere where they couldn’t fucking do whatever the fuck their dumbass thought they were doing.

Your parents were absolutely not pleased to find out tattoos also counted as injuries when a tiger tattoo appeared on your fucking neck at the tender age of 13.

Needless to say, your soulmate deserved to get their shit rocked only for the amount of makeup their dumbassery forced you to buy to look at least somewhat presentable.

And let’s not even mention the number of times you had to explain to a concerned passerby that no, you weren’t being abused at home, you just had the worst soulmate connection possible.

You got slightly worried for your soulmate when randomly got a stab wound in the middle of a school day, but you got it treated fast and now you just had a scar to remind you of that one terrifying evening of your mother sobbing and cursing out your soulmate, no one certain if you’d make it, but you did, thankfully.

Your annoyance only grew when at 15, another tattoo appeared on your ankle, a message from Satan himself apparently.

‘Lmfao pls get me a matching neck tattoo bestie <3’

Whoever the son of a bitch was, you were going to make them regret the day they were fucking born.

You did get them their stupid tiger tattoo, just asking the tattoo artist to trace over the one you already had, which hurt like a bitch, thank you very much, but you did add a small message, getting it tattooed on your hip.

‘Go fuck yourself, I hope you choke on air’

The injuries stopped for the most part by the time you hit 24, getting replaced by cat scratched and an occasional bruise.

Then hickeys and scratch marks on your back, because apparently your soulmate was a freak and made you suffer for it.

You were even more annoyed.

You’ll meet your soulmate and fucking kill them.

Baji realised he had two soulmates pretty fast, knowing the date on his ribs was Tora, and the timer on his wrist was for none other but Chifuyu, and honestly, he was pleased with that arrangement, even if Kazutora did almost kill him and even if shit did get messy when the two realised they were soulmates as well.

It took the three of them really getting into some bullshit to realise there was a third person, however, and honestly, Baji did feel just a bit bad for the poor bastard who had to get all of their injuries, while their own skin stayed flawless and pristine, clear of any bruising and scars that should have littered their skin.

He was also confused as fuck why is there a tattoo on his hip and neck, but Tora sheepishly explained to both Baji and Chifuyu that was kind of his fault, before proudly showing them the tiger tattoo he finally managed to get on his neck.

The issue was they all had the fucking tattoo now, peeving Baji just a bit because his poor mother almost had a heart attack, but Chifuyu helped him cover it with makeup most days, so Baji almost forgot he had it.

He was sure their soulmate was a bit happier now that they stopped getting into fights practically every day, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling just a bit smug every time he made a hickey on Tora or Chifuyu, watching the mark vanish with the same fascination each time as if it were the first.

He only hoped their third soulmate was a calm person, because he knew that if it were him getting all of their injuries, he would have lost his shit a while ago.

Ran snickered as he stared at your neck, half-heartedly trying to hide it by burying his face into Kakucho’s neck.

“What the fuck is it?” You grumbled, annoyed, trying to enjoy a peaceful lunch, but failing miserably due to two factors.

One, Kakucho and Ran were an absolutely disgusting couple, seemingly never getting tired of PDA, even if Kakucho was more reserved, Ran had no issues being all over his boyfriend every chance he had.

You really fucked up by agreeing to third wheel.

And two, which sorta linked into one, Ran was a fucking menace.

“Your neck- It’s- YOUR FUCKING-“ Ran tried to get his words out, but due to his annoying and absolutely awful wheezing, it was not possible.

Kakucho only rolled his eyes, silently pointing to your neck as he chewed his food.

Getting out the small compact mirror from your bag, you flipped it open to stare at the hickeys and bite marks forming all over your neck and collar bones, each looking angry and painful.

You shoved the mirror into your bag, sighing in annoyance, and thanking God your work for the day was done, because you couldn’t have dealt with the stern looks your boss would have given you if he saw the shitshow currently happening on your skin.

“Fuck you too Ran.” You muttered, shoving the last bit of food into your mouth.

“What are your plans for the day, y/n?” Kakucho tried to change the topic, ignoring Ran who was at this point crying from his manic laughter.

“Gotta drop by a pet shop to buy more food for Yuki.” You wiped your mouth, sighing as you pulled your blouse up higher, buttoning up the last button in an attempt to cover your soulmate’s current bullshit.

“The one by the station where you usually go to closed already.” Kakucho shrugged, now pushing the still wheezing Ran off of himself.

You groaned, burying your face in your palms.

“There is one on our way to work, we can give you a ride?” Kakucho suggested, pulling his wallet out to pay, and apparently momentarily going deaf because he fully ignored your complaints that it is your treat.

“I’ll fucking pay.” You tried to wrestle the bill out of his hands, but he only stared at you, unimpressed, “Fuck you and your fucking muscles, you fucking manwhore. And sure, a ride would be lovely.”

Kakucho nodded, finally growing bored of your weak attempts as he swatted your hands away, pulling Ran up as he left a few yen bills on the table.

The ride was filled with Ran bullying you, and you strangling him in a chokehold from the backseat as Kakucho weakly tried to make you stop without crashing.

They bid you a goodbye as you jumped out of the car, flipping Ran off and thanking Kakucho.

You glanced at the working time displayed on the shop doors, and thankfully, you still had half an hour before they closed.

You felt just a smidge bad, but you couldn’t let your dog starve, so you opened the door, the chiming of a bell notifying the three men of your presence.

One jumped up from behind the counter, approaching you with a smile.

“Welcome! My name is Chifuyu, how may I help you?”

“Hello, sorry to come in so close to closing time but I need food for my dog?”

“Of course, do you know what brand?”

“Uh, hold on, I have a photo of it somewhere on my phone, give me a second.”

The man nodded, patiently waiting for you to find the photo.

The other two were preparing for closing, the black-haired man cleaning the counter as the man with a turtleneck and his blonde and black hair put up in a ponytail put away the few cats who were playing in a pen into their cages.

“This one?” You showed Chifuyu the picture, allowing him to take your phone and zoom into the brand name.

“We do have it in the back, wait here please!”

You patiently waited, observing the turtleneck dude putting away the cats as he cooed at them, allowing them to hop out of his arms into their cages.

One cat however, was being a fussy bitch, clawing to get out of his arms.

“Hey, Maru, be nice, I have to- Maru- OUCH!” He hissed, letting go of the cat to observe the scratch on his arm.

“Are you o-“ To your horror, before you could even finish your sentence, the scratch marks disappeared off of his hand.

You almost dropped your bag when you went to pull up the sleeve of your jacket, observing as a few beads of blood formed, staining the edge of the sleeve of your blouse.

You looked at the man.

The man looked at you.

And you decided to do the rational thing.

Without a second thought, you flipped open the small pocket knife Ridou forced you to carry everywhere (“You’re a fucking wimp y/n, you need some protection”) and lunged at the man, making a gash on his cheek.

“What the fuck-“

The black haired man was on you in a blink, pinning you to the ground.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE-“ His yelling got cut off by you throwing him off yourself, your hand shooting up to touch your own cheek, and when your hands came off stained with blood, you knew.

This is the day you get arrested for murder.

“YOU ASSHOLE!” You pounced on the man with the ponytail, causing you both to crash to the ground as you rained punches on any surface of his skin you could get to.

Did you know you were only adding injuries to yourself? Yes.

Did you care?

Fuck no.

“YOU MADE ME BLACK AND BLUE FOR 13 FUCKING YEARS, YOU KNOW HOW ANNOYING THAT WAS? I SPENT MORE HOURS IN THE ER THAN AT HOME-“

“Hey, get the fuck off him-“

The black-haired man tried, but you punched him in the nose, making him stumble back, and in utter horror, you stared at him as blood started dripping out of your own nose.

Huh.

God really said fuck yourself, didn’t he?

“YOU TOO?” You jumped off the ponytail bitch to grab the black-haired man’s collar, getting into his face as you raised a fist, “DID YOU TOO DO DUMB SHIT SO I HAD TO GET YOUR GODDAMN INJURIES AND BRUISES-“

“Here is the food- What the fuck is happening here?”

Chifuyu stared at the scene, Tora on the floor, Baji’s collar in your death grip, your fist still hovering mid-air.

“I think that’s our third soulmate?” Tora muttered, rubbing his face, “That really hurt, ya know?”

You let go of Baji, kicking Tora in the ribs.

“DO YOU FUCKERS KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY I SPENT ON- Wait, third?” You looked up at Chifuyu, your glare darkening, “Did you do dumb shit too?”

Chifuyu sheepishly scratched his neck, a bashful smile on his lips.

“Maybe?”

“I will kill you. Oh my god, I’ll fucking kill all of you.”

🔖Taglist:

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @lagrimasdeglitter @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookydraken @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-stuff @hana-patata @hxked

a/n: woke up in cold sweat and had to write this, ik i have 5 other things to write but bro I HAD TO 😩

[neko-naruto]

New years eve!

"Bitch wake the fuck up!" The ginger shouted at his partner who groaned and buried himself in the sheets and pillows.

"No... Let me sleep..." The singer whined.

"I let you sleep until three in the afternoon so wake the fuck up! it's new years eve!" The ginger shouted pulling the singer back to the waking world with a snap.

"It's already new years? 2021 didn't even happen though?" The singer groaned as he reached for his baseball cap.

"Your wrong! 2021 is ending! Betty white died this morning! The second sonic movie was announced! Covid 19! Stuff happened!" The ginger exclaimed as he tossed the cap to the singer who put it on.

"Betty died? Damn, and she was this close to hundredth birthday." The singer said with a sigh as he made his way over to the kitchen finding pancakes on the counter still warm and coated in maple syrup, strawberries, yogurt, nutella, you name it, it was on the pancakes.

"Yeah, it's a shame she died, but you know what that means?" the ginger asked as he sat down on the other side of the counter.

"What? What could it possibly mean, Pico?" The singer asked as he took a singular bite of his pancakes being bombarded with flavors.

"We have over seventy years worth of movies and tv shows to binge watch in her memory." Pico explained with a smirk as he pulled on his green sweater and grabbed the gun on the table.

"Where did Cassandra and Gf go?" the singer asked.

"Already at the party held by Gfs parents." Pico explained before grabbing a pancake with only butter and taking a bite out of it.

"Why didn't you just head out without me?" The singer asked with a light sigh at the realization he was dragging Pico down again.

"I know by now that you have panic attacks when your alone, Boyfriend." Pico said as he slid on his battle boots he got recently, they may have been feminine, but no one stands in the way of boots made for curb stomping a bitch.

"Thanks, just give me a minute to get on my shoes and we can go." Boyfriend said as he finished off his pancakes with a satisfied sigh.

"Not even gonna take a single sip of the orange juice?" Pico asked, knowing by now that eating that much random stuff without liquid would make it much more painful on the way up.

"Fine." Boyfriend said before taking a swig of the juice and putting on his signature red sneakers, it may have been winter, but style comes first although Pico did force him to put on a jacket, a white sleeveless hoodie that didn't cover much more than a t shirt but would still help with insulation.

"Come on, let's go already!" Pico whined as he started up the van, waiting impatiently for Boyfriend to hop onto the bench seat in the back like he always did.

"Alright, alright, I'm still half asleep." Boyfriend claimed in his defense as he laid down on the leather seating.

"Please hold onto your hats, secure yourself on something and buckle the fuck up, cause here we go!" Pico exclaimed before kicking into gear and drifting across the icy, snow coated roads taking as many wide turn as possible to fling the passenger from side to side like he always did as a reminder to make sure they where following safety precautions.

"Jesus fucking christ, Pico! Can't you slow this bitch down for one second?!" Boyfriend shouted over the van hitting a few bumps, scraping against a fire hydrant or two, and most importantly drifting over top of the snow keeping no traction at all.

"I would if I this puppy had any traction on the roads!" Pico shouted back as he spun the wheel spinning out causing both to erupt in shouts of fear as the car spun out on the road, regaining control of the van taking a swerve as it almost drove them both through a window.

"Please, never do that again." Boyfriend said shakily as he tried to regain his balance.

"I'll try, but look on the bright side! We've arrived at our destination with only a few scratches!" Pico said with a grin as he kicked open the door and opened Boyfriends helping him out as his balance was throw off from the car simply gliding across the snow and kicking up drifts of it.

"You almost killed us! Idiot..." Boyfriend utter the last part under his breath, he loved Pico but he was a dumbass somedays, and vice versa.

"Were still standing here, aren't we?" Pico asked.

"Yes." Boyfriend answered with a sigh.

"Exactly, now let's go find our Girlfriends." Pico said with a cocky smirk as he walked into the building with Boyfriend following suite.

[lyrilan]

sometimes the amount of love i have for pegoryu frightens the shit out of me, but then i remember the reasons WHY i love them and my passion is flamed ever brighter i swear to god

like, everyone knows how MC comes to his current situation: he’s walking home, hears a literal assault situation happening, and instead of minding his own business like any apparent indifferent bystander, steps in to defend the person unable to defend themselves. he doesn’t truly think, doesn’t calculate the pros and cons of what his actions may cause-- MC just does, because it’s the right thing to do, the moral thing to do, this is what justice should be. this moral goodness costs MC; he gets charged with assault, has a criminal record now, and gets sent to an extremely different environment as punishment under the guise of ‘reintegrating back into society as a civil human being’

and it’s fucking horrible. the game starts off meeting sojiro, who is jaded and basically wary of MC, everyone and their mother has heard rumors of MC’s ‘actions’ and is downright antagonizing of him, if not scared shitless by his reputation. even his parents are mysteriously silent, only sending his belongings to tokyo, no messages, no phone calls, nothing-- as if MC’s actions were truly shameful on their image

MC is alone, truly alone, in an environment that is already set up against him. no friends or family back in his old town to support him and have his back.

how do you, as MC, NOT feel resentful? Upset? disillusioned? we have been taught to do the right thing, to help people, because that’s just right, that’s what society should be like. that there is a clear distinction of what is evil, and what is good, and you should strive to be good. but instead, the one time MC does something that is right and just, it backfires horribly and under human law he is condemned, morality be damned. 

like, how do you as MC not feel bitter and fucked up, knowing that people now don’t want to help you because of your reputation, knowing that the one time you did try to help, you get curb stomped instead. how do you not lose your faith in society? like i don’t know about you guys, but if i was MC, that would’ve been my supervillain origin story i swear to god

MC starts his new life, and tries to find his new school-- and meets Ryuji Sakamoto. and boy, is that meeting what really sets up the theme of the whole damn game.

Ryuji comes off vulgar, loud, a delinquent. his hair is bright ass blonde, he’s eye-catching, and not in the best of ways. everything about him screams trouble and annoying. the thing is, Ryuji knows it too. he knows he’s seen as a delinquent, that not a lot of people likes him and thinks him cumbersome. he knows. and doesn’t give two shits. you meet him, and think, oh my god this guy is going to make my reputation worse (which, Ryuji fucking acknowledges sheepishly later)

and despite all of those preconceptions, this vulgar boy becomes the catalyst, the reason WHY the game runs the way it does-- all because of his kindness, his inherent goodness.

you two accidentally wander into the metaverse, face a distortion of Kamoshida, and it’s a fucking terrifying situation-- and Ryuji is the one to tell you to run. MC is essentially a complete stranger, a person that could have already heard about Ryuji’s reputation and could have had preconceived notions-- and it just doesn’t matter. Ryuji is terrified, and still screams for MC to book it, even when the sword is pointed at Ryuji’s throat. he just does what he feels and thinks is right

is it any wonder that MC awakens his persona at that moment, to jump in to defend and fight?

even after that harrowing experience, even after Morgana appears, strikes an antagonizing relationship with Ryuji, and confirm thus far that only MC and Morgana have personas that could be utilized, Ryuji was still intent on helping.

even if he couldn’t fight, he could memorize the distorted students’ faces, could supply some health items and weapons, could find that will to want to help those that couldn’t help themselves. you later learn that this situation is even more personal-- Ryuji had been physically abused and later crippled by Kamoshida himself, and his reputation went downhill after trying to stand up for himself. and you think, jesus, out of everyone, ryuji should have the biggest red flags of “maybe i shouldn’t interfere anymore because last time it cost me my leg, scholarship, and reputation in the school.” but he doesn’t give a SHIT, he’s doing what’s RIGHT. he’s seeking justice for the students that needed it. 

and even when we learn more, meeting Ann, finding out about Shiho, have more stakes to be motivated into defeating Kamoshida-- you cannot deny that Ryuji is the one to help set up the foundation of the phantom thieves.

Help those who cannot help themselves. 

Something that MC holds close to heart, cost him dearly, and is now the running goal for the whole game. 

how can you NOT love Ryuji?

and god, sure, after that first dungeon, his character arc is twisted so bad in favor of the other plot and other characters-- but god, look, it’s that first dungeon that is so important, that establishes who he is as a person, and later his confidant in helping his old team, nothing about himself.

he’s kind, he’s protective. he’s the first one to reach a hand out to MC as a person. he’s the first one to get defensive and stay angry for MC’s situation and sake. he’s the only confidant that doesn’t require plot progression or skill advancements -- he’s ready af to hang with you and be by your side. even when MC gets popular, there is no jealousy, just pure contentment. Ryuji holds MC in high regard, but still looks at him like a human being-- a fellow delinquent. he really doesn’t expect much, except friendship out of MC. to a lot of the other confidants, i feel like MC stands for so many different things: hero, potential change, leader, guide, etc. And sure, Ryuji sees all of that in MC, but he still saw him a person first, someone enough to protect and hell, die for, even when that was not the best nor wanted option.

and it’s also just, the two work so well together and off one another. MC’s whole theme, whole situation, is about being imprisoned. Hell, even the room in his heart was a damn prison (of course, not of his own machinations or whatever). and ryuji is all about freedom, either in saying MC makes him feel free, or his Arcana stating that he’s all about the power to “freedom”, like idk bout you, but that is literally some poetry shit right there. ryuji looks at MC and thinks freedom and belonging, and i’m just. how tf does MC not love him, how is ryuji not romanceable option (or even, just treated better as a character, jesus christ). how does no one look at Ryuji and realize that he literally help lead the way through the game, as befitting of the chariot arcana, that his will and actions reignited something back in MC to awaken his own persona, to want to do good and damn the consequences, as he once did before the criminal record

literally the pegoryu ship is

[astarryon]

Better Off Chapter Two

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Warnings: language, mention of addiction, gunfire

Word count: 6k

A/N: This one feels sooo long lmfao. A lot of stuff goes down in this one, and you get to see what Diego thinks of all this! Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to send them my way!

Chapter One

It wasn’t something he’d been prepared for.

Seeing you again... it came with a lot of complicated feelings. Anger was first, as well as most prominent, but that could only be expected, all things considered. It would probably be more concerning if he wasn’t at least a little bit pissed. Probably the most fucked up thing was that he felt hurt more than anything else. He didn’t much care that you had done what you had, it just bothered him that he hadn’t been enough of what you wanted for you to not.

Was that pathetic? Maybe. And it certainly didn’t change anything, either.

But then there was the other part of him — bigger than he thought it should be and surprisingly eager given the circumstances — absolutely buzzing with delight at the sight of you, if only because he could see it all. In your eyes, he found the warmth and kindness you used to wrap around him like a blanket. In your smile, there was that mischievous little quirk to your mouth as you told him not to worry so much about things he couldn’t control as he expressed concern over whether his father would catch the two of you together. In the way your hips unintentionally swayed as you walked toward him, he could see the first time you’d ever allowed him to run his hands over your bare skin, sweet and clumsy and shy.

As much as Klaus had tried to forget, it had been in vain. The sheepish beginning, the heartbreaking end, all of it was just... there.

That was why it hurt so bad, he was pretty sure. You’d been his first taste of desire — or, rather, wanting to be desired. Klaus had never known what it was to be wanted before you came along and insisted he allow you to be his best friend. He meant little to his siblings, even less to his father, and he had few delusions about those facts. And then you just appeared one day, far too happy to spend your nights in a mausoleum or use your power to walk up to his bedroom window if it meant you got to claim him. Why you had wanted a silly thing like that, Klaus was never sure, but he’d gotten used to it all too quickly.

“You’re staring.”

The words snapped him out of his reverie, and Klaus blinked hard. As his focus cleared and his sight came back, memories rushing away like some awful breeze, he found that his gaze had been trained on the bare patch of skin at the center of your collarbone. That had certainly thrown him for a loop back at the nightclub; years might have passed, but your image was still so clearly ingrained in his mind. The absence of that familiar silver shimmer had left an odd sort of ache in his chest.

But then, that ache had nothing on what it felt like to finally be able to touch you again.

“You look different,” he muttered by way of explanation. The last word came out wrong — like it was some kind of insult to be thrown at you. Klaus hadn’t meant it that way, but between the adrenaline from seeing you and his ecstasy high beginning to fade, he could hardly be held responsible. “I don’t... I don’t know. You just changed.”

He had to physically stop himself from adding without me to the end of that one. Between making you think he was hallucinating you and tricking you into that kiss, Klaus was pretty sure he’d used up his allotted guilt trips for the evening. Or, morning. Hard to keep track with his head spinning like it was.

Your eyes flicked over to his, momentarily holding his gaze before flashing back to the road. That distraction wouldn’t last long; there were only a few streets left until the two of you hit Diego’s.

“I didn’t change, Klaus,” you sighed. He liked the shape your mouth gave to his name, the slight annoyance overshadowed by hesitant fondness. That, at least, was the same as when you were children — one of the few things he could take comfort in. “I’m still the same, I just... I just grew up.”

And this time, against his better judgement, he didn’t bother to put himself in check.

“Yes, you most certainly did, bird.” Klaus reached over to run the pad of his index finger along the bare strip of your wrist; he didn’t miss the shiver you gave in response, or the little hitch in your breath at his touch. “You grew up and lived your life and you did it all without me. Just like you wanted, right?”

The GPS chimed to alert that the two of you had made it to your destination, but with as much tension as was filling the car, it may as well have stayed silent.

Klaus watched you open your mouth, then close it again. Words were at the tip of your tongue, just begging to tumble out of you like he remembered them doing before you’d gotten so careful, but after a moment you seemed to swallow them and move on. In spite of all that, Klaus noticed the whitening of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel tighter. Was it terrible that he could find delight in the fact you still had your temper.

Klaus watched you swing a hard left, neatly parking the car just off the curb. There was something there, in the set of your jaw, something that told him he was lucky you had been driving when he’d chosen to pick this fight. The initial shock of your reunion had gotten him out of the consequences for lying about the hallucination, and it was probably guilt that won him leniency with that earlier kiss. Distantly, he wondered how much more it would take to get you to slap him.

You leaned closer to him, jaw clenched and anger just barely contained. A shadow of your former self — volatile, defensive, and all too certain — was suddenly making an appearance. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you snapped, unflinchingly looking him in the eye. “You know fuck all about what I want.”

And then you were out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you as you stomped your way toward the entrance to the gym, not even giving Klaus so much as a chance to respond before you were gone.

Funny how some things never seemed to change.

—

It took you three tries to pick the lock before you successfully gained access to the boxing gym. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate to own up to that — it wasn’t your best skill, and never had been, but tonight? Oh, no. Tonight you had about as good an excuse as you ever came across.

Christ, Klaus was aggravating. More than, actually; that didn’t quite do it justice. The guy was mind numbingly infuriating. Did you feel bad for what had happened in the past? Obviously. Would you do anything you could to make that up to him? Of course. Did that mean you were willing to just lie down and freely take his abuse?

Fuck. No.

Klaus leaned down, chin just a few centimeters shy of resting on your shoulder. Part of you jumped at the sudden proximity, yearning for the familiar warmth of his skin. The other part was resisting the urge to elbow him in the stomach to get him to back off. Touch was fine, something he had needed since he was young, but he’d been abusing it tonight and had lost his privileges with you. “Want me to do that?” he slurred, hot breath fanning over your ear.

You grit your teeth, working the lock pick harder. “I want you to back up,” you muttered, trying to lean away. It was no use; your options were to press up against the door or lean back into Klaus. Son of a bitch had you trapped. “Do you mind?”

“You’re angling that wrong. It’s never gonna work that way.”

“Klaus,” you warned.

“Well, I’m just saying—“

The lock sprung, and you were on your feet and moving in, not bothering to wait for Klaus as he trailed in behind you. Tears of frustration were threatening to spring to your eyes, but you forced yourself to push them down. There wasn’t any time for weakness, especially not if you were about to throw yourself in front of Diego Hargreeves and simultaneously beg for mercy and assistance.

Besides... did you really have a right to be upset with Klaus? He was only speaking the truth, horrible as it was to hear. 

“Where’s your necklace?”

You kept walking, falling back to let Klaus guide you in the right direction; you could see a lot of well used equipment and a boxing ring, but no sign of the knife wielding terror you were meant to seek out. Briefly, you wondered if Klaus was lying about his brother staying here, but you put that out of your mind quickly. This was Klaus, your Klaus. Even pissed out of his mind and bitter beyond belief, he would never steer you wrong.

“I don’t think now’s the time,” you mumbled, crossing your arms to fight your impulse. All you really wanted to do was hold his face in your hands and cry, but his behavior told you that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Not that you blamed him. “Why don’t we talk about that later?”

“No offense,” he drawled, pausing to whirl around to you. The sheer weight of his gaze was crushing, and you found yourself unable to step away. “But how can I be sure there’s even going to be a later?”

Fair enough.

“Klaus,” you sighed, staring up at him. It was all you could do not to reach out and grab his face, just to really drive home how serious you were. You would probably get away with it — Klaus himself had done much more than cradle your cheeks in the last hour. But, then, it was better not to tempt yourself. Wouldn’t have been fair to either of you anyway. “I’m not... you’ve gotta know I’m not abandoning you again, right?”

But he was already turning away, averting his gaze and closing himself off again. Jesus; with how quickly Klaus switched between hot and cold, whiplash seemed almost inevitable. “Well, you know what they say,” he called back to you, disappearing down a narrow hallway. “Fool me once and all of that.”

You followed in his direction, clenching your fists down at your sides. Was it wrong of you to be angry right now? It was hard to blame him for being skeptic; you knew that you were being sincere, but Klaus had no reason to think so. What was it, five years of good will that you’d thrown down the drain? Four years of friendship, one of love, and all for what? Because his father—?

A loud banging startled you clear out of your train of thought, causing you to jump three feet in the air; you thrust your arms out in front of you reflexively, choking on the swear caught in your throat. By the time you realized your power had been triggered, Klaus was held down by the force of it, slammed against the door he’d just been knocking on with his arms pinned above his head.

The expression he wore was downright miffed. “Alright, this shit was cool back in the day when we were kinky little shits, but I’m mad at you right now. Let me go.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, flipping the mental switch and releasing him. “You scared the shit out of me, okay, I just— just, sorry.” You paused a moment, just now registering what he’d said to you, and retorted, “For the record, you were the kinky one.”

“Oh, please,” Klaus shot back, absentmindedly eyeing you up and down. “I seem to remember someone getting a little too excited about the idea of fooling around in a cemetery.”

Jesus, you could not believe what you were hearing right now. “Okay, first of all, I was sixteen! I’d say that’s some pretty standard shit, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, not when you can see all the ghosts watching you and your girlfriend try to—“

The end of his sentence was cut off by the sudden twisting of the doorknob. That was probably for the better; you definitely didn’t need a reminder of the stupid shit you and Klaus had gotten up to as teenagers, and especially not when you’d used those memories to torment yourself every night since you’d left. But, now? Now you had a whole other issue from when you were teenagers to deal with.

The wooden door opened, prompting you and Klaus to fall silent. Out popped Diego Hargreeves, half asleep and out of focus, but still just as imposing as he’d always been. Funny; where Klaus looked different from how you remembered him — too skinny for his frame, visibly exhausted beneath the heavy eye makeup, the gleam in his eyes you had always loved to see now missing — Diego looked oddly the same. Still well muscled, though not uncomfortably so, still poised like he was ready to start a fight in an instant, still handsome enough to get whatever he wanted.

It was pretty fucking annoying, truth be told.

He blinked against the harsh light of the hall, shielding his eyes with a hand that — notably — clutched a sleek, silver knife. He hadn’t noticed you yet, tucked behind Klaus as you were, and for that you said a prayer of thanks to whichever higher power had granted this small mercy. You could only imagine what his knee jerk reaction might have been if you’d greeted him instead of Klaus.

“You have any idea what fucking time it is, Klaus?” Diego grumbled, a powerful yawn possessing him suddenly. Distantly, you felt bad for dragging him out of bed at two in the morning; you weren’t sure what Diego had going on, but if he was anything like his brother, he definitely couldn’t have been getting enough rest. On the flip side, you were relieved, albeit for selfish reasons. Diego’s presence meant that you wouldn’t have to remain with Klaus in solitude, ensuring that there would be no more stunts that involved kissing, emotional turmoil, or backhanded guilt. “What are you doing here?”

Before you could even truly process what was happening, Klaus simply stepped back and to the side, wordlessly lifting a finger to point at you. He glanced between you and his brother, an awful smirk adorning his mouth as he watched the shift in Diego’s expression, realization dawning on his face as he worked out just who you were. A moment later, Klaus moved forward to step around his brother, entering the room and leaving you to Diego’s scrutiny.

Fucking traitor.

The flip in Diego’s demeanor was near instant, though you supposed you should expect nothing less from someone who spent their teen years training insistently. It wasn’t like you spent much time around Diego when you were younger — your days had always been explicitly dedicated to your relationship with Klaus — but you remembered enough to know that the way he was looking at you now was especially malicious. It was predatory and dark, fiercely protective and terrifyingly accusatory.

Everything Klaus deserved out of someone who cared about him, and unfortunately nothing you were able to give him yourself.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Diego muttered lowly, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head to the side. Jesus; twelve years hadn’t made him any less of a self righteous bastard, apparently. “Where do you get off, showing up here like nothing happened?” You didn’t much care for the way the silver point of the knife was twirling idly between his fingers.

“No offense, D,” you sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. Diego immediately bristled at the use of your old nickname for him; it was hard to blame him. Nicknames were familiar, for people who could be trusted, and you had done nothing to be worthy of Diego’s good graces in the last decade. Quite the opposite, actually, considering you’d torn his brother’s heart out of his chest and spat on it. Brushing past him and ducking into the tiny little room, you continued, “But I really don’t think I can do witty rat bastard tonight. There’s too much going on, and the sooner I catch you up, the sooner I can leave.”

“Oh, so you’re leaving again,” Diego spat, following in your steps. There wasn’t much space for that, but then, this was Diego you were dealing with. Dude would take any opportunity to be as dramatic as the situation would allow for. “Okay, well. Good to know you’re consistent, at least.”

You didn’t like what Diego’s tone implied. You understood why he was upset; really, you did. But you’d already gotten a massive load of shit from Klaus — who had taken it upon himself to not only pretend to hallucinate you, but had also kissed you in an effort to make you feel even shittier and insult your integrity further on the car ride here. In perfect honesty, you weren’t sure how much more shit from a Hargreeves sibling you could take; your quota was just about maxed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, biting your tongue. The old you, the one that hadn’t been swimming in guilt for the past twelve years, the one who had been just about to make an appearance while fighting with Klaus over picking the fucking gym lock, would have lit into Diego with little caution or remorse. He had been kind enough when you were younger, and had never said a word to anyone else on the nights he caught you sneaking in through Klaus’ window, but he was also a bit too judgmental for your liking. Would’ve been easy to knock him down a peg, but... well. Your heart just wasn’t in it these days.

“Something you wanna say to me?” you prompted when Diego simply continued staring you down. The words came out defensively, and you hated how guilty you sounded.

“Depends,” he shot back, matching your intensity. “You planning to fuck my brother again?”

“Well, if she is, it’s definitely not in the fun way,” Klaus called from the other side of the room where he was rifling through Diego’s things. It was easy enough to imagine the shit eating grin that would be present in his face.

You immediately winced, the dirty joke catching you by surprise, and you saw Diego grimace as he realized the misstep in his words. The two of you shared a mutual look of discomfort, and then the moment was gone like smoke in the wind.

“You know,” you whispered, glancing back at Klaus and frowning in worry. Not for the first time, you noted how worn out he looked. His words and actions spoke of eccentricity, but his face told another story entirely; that only solidified what you were about to do next. “Maybe we should talk abut this... outside?” Diego opened his mouth to protest, but you stopped him before he could. “Look, Klaus is really high, okay? And he... we had some issues on the way here. I just think we should wait to explain this to him until he’s a little more... you know, sober.”

Diego looked like he wanted to protest, but ultimately thought better of it. “Klaus,” he prompted, turning over his shoulder to eye his brother. You looked over as well, finding him propped against the wall, busting himself by absently and clumsily twirling a slim silver dagger between his fingers.

Oh, for fuck’s sake; with how high he was and whatever he was on, it was only a matter of time before he accidentally cut himself. Part of you instinctively wanted to chastise Diego for leaving the damn thing out, but you resisted. That shit wouldn’t fly, especially not in Diego’s own home.

“Maybe you wanna lay down?” Diego continued. You had to note the shift in tone, how much softer he’d made himself as he turned his attention to Klaus. That had to be new. You didn’t remember Diego being the biggest asshole in your youth, but he’d definitely never bothered to sugarcoat anything.

This, of course, begged the question — what the fuck had happened while you were gone?

“No,” Klaus responded, throwing the dagger up in the air and narrowly avoiding the blade biting into his palm. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Klaus,” you added before you could stop yourself. “I really think you should try and get some sleep.”

The resulting grin that split his face was both disingenuous and without humor. “No offense, sweetness, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t take advice from you.”

Diego shot you a dirty look, one that clearly told you to back off. He took another step toward his brother, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Klaus, really. It’s late, and you should get some sleep. Y/n and I are just gonna step outside and talk about a few things. It really won’t take long.”

Klaus hesitated this time, and for a moment — just one moment, fleeting and breathless and earth shatteringly something — his eyes flicked over to you, and you saw everything. Hints of old affection that still managed to cling to his mind, fondness that was no doubt wilted but was still there. The look present in his eyes that split second, full of fear and wonder and childlike hope, it was... it was the same look in his eyes from the night you’d met. Not even on your worst nights, when all you could do was cradle yourself and sob as you imagined a better outcome for you and Klaus, not even then had you imagined Klaus could still look at you like that.

He didn’t hate you — he just needed time. It was a long shot, but maybe... maybe you could get it all back. Maybe you didn’t have to return to isolation.

Down at his side, Klaus’ fingers stopped fiddling with the dagger. When he looked at you this time, it was full on, and the emotion in his gaze had shifted to something you couldn’t quite name. “If I go to sleep, am I gonna wake up to you being gone again?”

Despite the fact that his question was a fair one, it seemed to cut you deeper than that knife in his hand ever could.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you murmured. You tried to communicate your sincerity with your gaze, but it was doubtful that held much weight. Hard to imagine that Klaus could out any trust in you at this point. “I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Diego shot your way. You opened your mouth to tell him to mind his business, but he was already turning back to Klaus. “Look, I’m not letting her leave without explaining herself, okay? But please, Klaus, you don’t look like you’re doing so great. Please just rest.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but also understood this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. This was something Diego and you happened to be united on. With as rare as the two of you agreeing on something was, Klaus didn’t have a chance in hell.

Klaus rolled his eyes, letting the dagger in his hand clatter to the floor. “Great, yeah, cool,” he muttered. He didn’t spare either of you a second glance as he moved over to the cot in the corner, flopping down and rolling over. “You two have a nice time fist fighting, or... whatever it is you plan on doing.”

He looked small, curled up as he was now, and you were once again reminded of that night in the mausoleum, as well as the many spent in his bedroom, the two of you twisted together until you couldn’t make out where your limbs ended and his began. Part of you wanted to go to him now and relive those memories, but you fought the urge. Klaus had to set the pace; he’d be nothing but defensive if you got too familiar faster than he was comfortable with.

Diego grabbed your arm, jolting you out of your thoughts with his touch. You tried to protest, batting at his shoulder with what little resistance you could manage, but it was no use. He was too big and well muscled, and before you knew it, he had you shuffling out the door of his room and was leading you over to the boxing ring in the center of the gym — a safe enough distance that Klaus wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation. Once he was satisfied, he released his grip on you and crossed his arms over his chest, staring expectantly.

“Talk,” he said simply.

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. What could you say? How did you justify your showing up unannounced? What would make him believe this was all worth while? You couldn’t beat around the bush, not with something like this. You had to tell the truth — it was what Klaus deserved. No sugarcoating, no bullshit, nothing. That, at least, you owed to him.

Taking a breath, you swallowed once before leveling Diego’s gaze with your own. “Klaus is in danger,” you muttered, pouring as much concern into your words as possible. Absently, you hoped you weren’t coming off as desperate. “There are people out there trying to kill him. I came as soon as I could to warn you.”

For having just told him that his brother was in danger of the lethal variety, Diego appeared to be surprisingly nonplussed. “Okay,” he allowed, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll bite. Who’s trying to kill him?”

“I’m not fucking joking, Diego, this is serious,” you insisted. You should have known he wasn’t going to put much stock into your words. “A few days ago, someone left a note on my front door. Said something called The Commission was after Klaus and that they needed him dead. Something about him being a liability to their plans? I dropped everything to come here and warn you.”

Diego blinked, clearly caught off guard. Yeah; that was what you thought. “Klaus is harmless,” he told you, lowering his voice to a mutter. “They wouldn’t be worried enough to come after him.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Jesus, Diego, we’re not kids anymore and he’s your brother. Can’t you put away your shitty superiority complex for one second and worry about him?”

“I’m not—“ He cut himself off, clenching his fist and swallowing his words, voice becoming dangerously low. “I’m not doubting you. Not that you’d know, but Klaus... he’s powerful, yeah. Apparently always has been. But he’s no more use to anyone dead than he is alive, because his powers...”

The realization hit you like a sack of bricks.

“The drugs,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Of course. He’d said as much in the car, had implied that he’d been using with how often he hallucinated you; he’d even branded himself a junkie, not that you had fully understood at the time. “How long has he...?”

“Since you left,” Diego muttered. There was something in the way he looked at you, the way his lip curled like he was sucking on something bitter. It was the same way you’d looked at yourself in the mirror every day for the last twelve years. Diego was... not angry, no; that wasn’t severe enough a word. Diego was downright livid. “You really did a number on him.”

Like you needed to be reminded of the pain you’d inflicted. Obviously you hadn’t been around to witness the aftermath, but Klaus’ emotional state couldn’t have been too far off from your own. Everything was the same; same pain, same depression, same burning hole in the middle of your chest. But for Diego to accuse you of being the reason that Klaus turned to drugs? That wasn’t a blame you were willing to let him lay on you.

“Okay, I said this to Klaus, and I’ll say it to you. I’m not responsible for anything he’s chosen to do since I left.” Funny; the words had been heavy on your tongue when you’d screamed them at Klaus in the car, but weren’t quite so weighted now. Maybe you were getting used to saying them. Or, maybe it was because you hadn’t actually done anything wrong to Diego. Either way. “There was nothing I could have done.”

“You could have stayed,” Diego shot back. “Honestly, what did you think would happen? Was he supposed to just forget you? You should have known he wasn’t stable enough to handle that kind of loss, especially not after Ben!”

Oh, he was dangerously close to provoking a fight. It wouldn’t do you any good — would probably only make things worse. But Diego had no idea what he was saying, couldn’t have known that he was giving a voice to the darker thoughts living in your head.

“Diego,” you sighed, trying to figure out how to word it all. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t have stayed if I was able? If I knew what was going to happen to him? I’m not a psychic, okay? I can’t see the future. He and I liked to get drunk sometimes, and yeah, we smoked pot like three times. There weren’t any signs that he was... I didn’t know he had the addict gene. I did my best to stay, and it wasn’t enough, but I never would’ve abandoned him to become a junkie if I had known.”

The humorless laugh Diego barked out was so similar to Klaus’ that the sound was jarring. They may not have been related by blood, but they were certainly brothers.

“You know something?” he prompted, leveling you with an unforgiving glare. It didn’t match your mental image of him, wasn’t quite on par with how Diego looked in your memories. Between the number that adulthood had clearly done on Diego and Klaus, it was hard not to wonder how the rest of the Hargreeves had turned out. “You were it for my brother. The way he talked about you, the way he started looking forward to spending every night in the mausoleum because you would be there? I used to think he was making you up because there was no way that any of my siblings or I could have something that good. Klaus got dealt a shit hand in life, but you were the thing that made it all just a little more worth it. You wouldn’t know — mostly because I never bothered to say it — but I was grateful to you. You kept him grounded.”

For a moment, Diego’s cold mask cracked, and you saw beyond the tough guy vigilante facade he was always careful to maintain. Beneath that mask was an attentive older brother, one who cared deeply for his troubled sibling and would chase after anything to make that sibling happy. Gone was the illusion of a rough, jagged exterior, of the implication that he wished you harm. He was just a concerned brother, pure and genuine. That was all this was.

“Klaus,” you began, swallowing hard and looking away, “was probably the only thing I ever looked forward to. Mom died when I was seven, so I got chucked into foster care and bounced around a lot. I couldn’t use my powers unless I wanted people to think I was a freak, so I didn’t tell anyone about them. Jesus, I mean, I literally had to trespass in a cemetery and break into a mausoleum just to make a friend. But after that...” You raised your gaze, showing Diego a genuine, wistful smile. “After that he was the entire reason I bothered to do anything. Klaus was the only person who actually cared how I ended up. My foster parents were fucking terrible, and the social workers were shit at their jobs. My teachers never said much to me when I stopped showing up to school half the time. Klaus just kept checking in, and eventually I got so used to it that the idea of him stopping was... fucking terrible.” Your tone became wistful, mind beginning to whirl with memories from your youth. “He was the only good thing I had. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy, and you realized you’d led Diego down a path that could only end in him asking one question.

“If that’s true,” he murmured, sympathy seeping into his words, “then why did you leave?”

The words sprang to your lips before dying just as quickly. Twelve years; twelve years you spent training yourself not think about what Diego was asking. Mostly just because living with what you’d lost was easier if you could put the details out of your mind, but also because there was some fear attached to what might happen if you decided to tell anyone the truth. But then, this was Diego, wasn’t it? If there was anyone who could figure out away around the repercussions, it was definitely him.

And, besides; you and Klaus were no longer children. There was no way the consequences could hold the same weight as they would have ten years ago. That, at least, was the one good thing about adulthood.

“I left,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and searching for any spare scrap of courage you could muster. “I left because of your father.”

Diego blinked, stunned to silence. When he finally managed to speak, it was with confusion and disbelief. “My father?” he repeated. “What does my father have to do with—?”

The plaster of the wall you were standing in front of suddenly exploded, bits of paint and wood splintering with a loud crack and covering you in a cloud of debris. It wasn’t until Diego had tackled you to the floor a moment later, seconds before another explosion of plaster, that you realized what was happening — or that, had you been standing an inch closer to him, the first bullet would have struck you directly in the throat.

“You okay?” Diego shouted, shifting to shield you from the barrage of buckets shooting into the wall above your heads. “Are you hit?”

“I’m fine!” you called back, hoping he could hear you. This wasn’t the time for panic, but fighting it off proved difficult. “What do we do?”

Diego opened his mouth, but cut himself off at the telltale sound of a heart stopping click. For a split second, you made eye contact, exchanging unspoken words. Surely this was just some dual hallucination brought on by stress or lack of sleep. Surely you hadn’t actually heard that noise.

But then the sinister sound of metal rolling against the floor followed, and before you could really register what was going on, you and Diego were scrambling to evade the grenade, tripping over each other as you attempted to right yourselves.

He was screaming — you could hardly blame him. It was clear you wouldn’t be getting away in time, and though you’d managed to become tolerable to each other in the last few minutes, there were certainly other people you would prefer to die with. But you couldn’t worry about that right now — you didn’t have the luxury. Your fight or flight response was kicking into high gear, and if you didn’t focus, things would be ending very shortly for you and Diego Hargreeves.

For a moment, you couldn’t feel it, and you were genuinely worried your ability had faded from disuse. Thankfully, though, the familiar tug of your power began cinching your sternum, and you managed to solidify a large patch of air to use as a shield just as the grenade blew.

The force of the explosion added to the effort required to maintain your shield was enough to physically pain you. Preventing your deaths was easy enough, thank god, but the effort was too great and your skill level was lacking; at the tail end of the impact, you lost your hold and the shield dropped. The explosion itself was over and done with, but the stinging fire suddenly shooting through your leg meant you hadn’t managed to avoid the shrapnel.

“Fuck!” you screamed, pained tears springing to your eyes. You could already feel blood beginning to bloom over the fabric of your jeans.

This wasn’t right; this had to be them. Whoever was coming for Klaus, whoever wanted him dead, they’d finally managed to track him down.

They’d come to kill him.

“Diego, we have to—“

“Can you walk?” he demanded, cutting you off. The bullets had stopped for the moment, but that wouldn’t last; you could hear a gun being conspicuously reloaded off in the distance. “You need to find Klaus, you hear me? Both of you get somewhere safe and stay there. Meet me at the academy in the morning — do not try and go until daylight hits.”

You blinked hard, trying to comprehend Diego’s words, shove down your panic, and ignore the searing pain trailing up your leg. “What? What about you?”

“I’m gonna go get the son of a bitch shooting up my fucking gym,” he answered. He grabbed your shoulders and met your gaze. It only lasted a second, but his meaning was clear. “Find my brother. Tell him what our dad did.”

And then Diego was gone, slipping down the hall in the direction the bullets had been shot from. You called out to him, but your voice was again stolen by the pain in your leg as you made to stand.

There was only one thing left to do now.

—

Better Off Tag List:

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[originaldetectivesheep]

Tales of the Missing 23 - A Sausage Party

It's a well-known fact of life that the best of intentions can sometimes have the worst of consequences; what is somewhat less obvious is that the reverse is sometimes true as well, and the best outcomes can come from the worst and strangest sources.

A Sausage Party

The starless sky was as black as the bottom of a thirty-foot well, but the high old bricks piled up in and over the narrow streets, and the maze of the North End back of Hanover Street still burned like a baking pizza oven.  It was past one, maybe past two, for all the flaring blaze of lights out of Rico's 24-Hour Pastry cared, and Jeff was in absolute pieces sitting down under the A/C drip, feet way down off the old high corner curbstones, leaning near as putting his head through the caution-cone marked pickup full of vinyl siding and old furniture parked illegally down the alley.  The heat.  The late.  Beers and craft beers and canned Gansetts watching the game and more beers and old Scotch and cigars down under Breccia's and the heat that didn't quit, no water, and way in back of that was what got them out here in the first place – what all that beer and whiskey and bros bros bros was trying to forget.

Lionel chewed on his lip.  This was bad.  Dude had to rally.  You go out with the guys, try to forget and shed that off and make a new start, you take some damage, naturally, but there was damage and there was damage and this was real bad.  You didn't get a fresh start poured into an Uber off a North End curb where you busted so bad you didn't eat your cannoli.  He had to keep this going – Matt and Yang and Pete were all out, Will like batmanned while they were in the pastry shop, and Sam and Jhon'd ducked out after the game, handshakes and daps and keep-your-chin-ups before the night even really began.  It was only him and Jeff left – him and Jeff and Will but where the hell was Will even dude wasn't answering his texts – so as far as fixing this got, it was really only him.

Lionel sat down next to Jeff, sliding his cannoli box on over next to him.  "Hey," he said.  "Hey, man; Jeff, let's pick it up.  Let's go back over Breccia's; we can sit upstairs and not choke on cigars, take another glass of that Aberlour and finish tonight off good, aight?  We had a good time, right, man?  This isn't the kind of night that ends with a pastry box getting dripped off the roof."  Something splashed down on the plastic as if to make a point, but Jeff still shook his head.

"No – it's no good.  I – I can't stop thinking about her – all these girls we seen and you and Matt talked up, I kept seeing her face.  No good – ashes, ashes in my mouth.  I'm not going to be right again." This was worse than drunk, and this wasn't something that was going to get fixed by just eating the damn cannoli.

Lionel took a deep breath, in and out, lips pursed like he was blowing a ring of smoke into the still, baking air.  De profundis.  Preach it – might as well.  "Jeff, it is not about her, and it is not about any her; it is about you, and getting you to where you can get your head up out of the gutter and see again.  Jeff right now you are down, like we are down, in this maze of brick-oven streets and deep-cut cobbles and we cannot see the moon and stars up above our heads, but that ain't mean we cannot get up onnatoppa these buildings and make ourselves a new vista, cannot do the work and make the climb and reach the mountaintop.  But worse than that right now Jeff you are not looking up; your eyes are down in the street-grate mulch of depression and self-pity and you think, just because you washed down here with cigarette butts and people's Dunkin Donuts cups, that you belong there, that you got to fill your eyes with the world around you because it is the world around you, right now, like that's permanent.

"But Jeff I'm telling you that you are meant for more than this!  You been to the mountaintop, and you can get there again!  Roll up, man, roll over – just because you down in the gutter don't mean you don't got the right to look up at the stars!  Look up, and if you ain't see them, you know they're there – you can get yourself up, up where you can!  This place right now ain't all of it!  How you're feeling now, you ain't gonna feel forever!  Look up!  Maybe not right up under here right now, yeah, because I ain't positive it's water dripping out of that A/C thing, but inside!  Stand up!  Look up! You're free, now, man – you're free to pick out your own way!

"There's no such thing as love at first sight – we're grown, you know that the same as I do.  Don't worry about that – don't worry that you don't find some crazy meet-cute out of the movies.  Alls you got to do is get it right, do it right: one step at a time, take care of yourself, keep swiping right, start small, be smart, stay real.  You can do this, man.  I know you can.  Ain't I known you forever?  Come on, Jeff – how're you gonna not believe in yourself when everyone else is believing?" Jeff had his head  up, half up, now, bleary-eyed but like he was getting it, half getting it, and Lionel stared deep into his eyes until he nodded back, deep breath catching in his throat that wasn't a sob, and wavered himself up to his feet, one hand on the truck fender.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Lionel said, standing up and trying to flick the liquid off the top of the cannoli box without burning his hand.  "You're all right – we're gonna be all right.  Now just eat your cannoli and we can –" – and someone screamed from over the other side of the light-spilling pastry-shop door.

"Ginks! Keergs!  Weirdos!  Fuck off and take your smiley whale with you, you Vines hobos!"  She was an angel, a vision with honey-browned legs going all the way up to jeans shorts cut off right short of where they wouldn't be legal outside a Miami rap video, a killer angel with her blonde ponytail floating over a military-green DuckTours crew shirt, brandishing what looked like shit for real man a hot dog at a bunch of scared golf-visor preps.  "You fart-huffing tonsil burps!  That's it, fuck off!  But you ain't gonna not get what's coming to you, meatlords!  Take that!"  She threw the hot dog, and from the face of the guy it hit, limpid meat water splattering his immaculate pink polo, you'd think he was about to aneurysm and volcano blood out his ears like a burst water main.

Jeff was past Lionel with the slightest push of his hand even though shit, the first thing you know living in the city is do not get involved when someone flips out and starts throwing meat at people, and hands up in front, pacifying, unarmed, he took a wavering step towards the girl.  "Take that!  And that!  Eat flaming pork asshole death, chowderboys!"  She had, shit, she had a whole pack of hot dogs who the hell carries around hot dogs in case they need to throw them at people, Jesus, and slurpy meat sticks were flying out of her hands, shedding water like firework rounds in a bullet hell, and whoever the fuck those people were, whatever the fuck they'd done to her, they were running in confusion, sobbing threats and fevered screams and the angry howls of car horns as they fell through blind corners into traffic, desperately trying to get away.  "Yaaah! Yaah!  That's right, failpogos!  Get the FUCK out!"

"Hey," Jeff said, hands up, only now getting her attention, "are you all right?  What's wrong – what did –"

Her green eyes blazed a broadside, and it looked like all Jeff's white-knighting was getting him was a target swap.  "WHAT? Since when is this your beeswax, fuckhorse?  Get tubed!"  She wound up, plastic crunched together in a spinning sidearm softball fist, and she was out of hot dogs but not out of hot dog package, and it blew and expanded and flaffed, the last nitrate dregs spreading as the wet plastic blew out before it made contact, a soft, stinking plotch dead into the middle of Jeff's shirt.  She gave him the finger with both hands as he stood there, brain completely pranged, then spun on her heel and stomped off up the cobbled streets and into the night.

Mechanically, Jeff started unbuttoning his shirt to throw it in the gutter where he'd been sitting; it'd been full of cigar smoke anyway and now it was covered in hot dog water and this late shirtless dudes walking out of the North End attracted zero comment.  "Yeah, I guess that's me learned," he said, pulling it off, careful to not get any more crap on his hands than there already was.  "I thought I could do something, maybe make something out of it, but when a chick – or really, shit, anybody – is chucking hot dogs at people, you got to leave well enough alone, right?  Right?  Lionel?" He looked up, and Lionel was staring past him, up the road where she'd gone, barely conscious of the cannoli box still in his hands. "Lionel?"

Lionel shook his head.  "Oh.  Shit.  Sorry, my bad.  I was just thinking – thinking about her."

"What? The girl who was throwing hot dogs?  Why?  Do you know her?"

He shook his head again.  "No.  But – I got to.  I think I'm in love."

"What."

Lionel shook his head again.  "You know I said it doesn't happen, but I think I got that thunderbolt the old guys talk about round here.  One look and bam, man, that's it.  I want to know her.  I want to help her – that lady needs love, and the love of Jesus Christ.  And better sausages.  And I wanna be the one who gives her all of that." He was still looking up the street, damn near on misty-eyes, and for the first time that night, Jeff smiled, smiled for real smiled, and his laughter banked and bounced and echoed up off the bricks and out into the wide dark sky.

further Tales of the Missing ...

[theindifferentdroid]

Bad Moon Rising: Part 2 [Modern!Kylo x Reader]

BMR Masterlist // AO3

A/N: So grateful for the awesome response to BMR part one! Thank yall so much. I hope this is up to par with the first part. I’ve enjoyed writing this, and hope to continue it for a bit. 

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 2,500+

Kylo sat on the steps his porch, about twenty feet away from you and your car. You made him leave you alone and wouldn't let him sit with you, still apprehensive about the man. You really wanted him to just go inside, but he had insisted he at least stay on the porch to keep an eye on you.  You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You sat in silence, the feeling of the cold concrete seeping through your jeans, your back against the door of your car. There were too many problems to solve and it made you just want to lie down and sleep it off. You were eerily calm. Cars hummed by, passing on the interstate just above the street. You mind was scattered. Every time you began to formulate a plan, you’d lose your train of thought.

After ten minutes of brooding silence, Kylo couldn't take it anymore. He spoke up. "Let me drive you home."

You looked up at him, squinting through the darkness to try to see his face. You scoffed instantly. "You can't be serious." You still couldn't read his expression.

He returned the scoff, almost sarcastically. "Dead serious."

You stared him right in the eyes, or what you could see of them, briefly stealing glances of his forearms propped up on his thighs. Seconds passed. You hated how good he looked, and you hated that you were even thinking of that right now. Attributing your thoughts to your exhaustion, you sighed. "Not a chance."

Kylo didn't move. His features twisted slightly; you could tell from the way the shadows played on his face. It was silent again for a brief moment. He was deep in thought. You held your breath, anticipating his next move.

"I can walk you home," he said suddenly.

A loud, brief cackle slipped from your lips and echoed in the empty street. "Oh, yes. That's much better!" you exclaimed sarcastically.

At that, Kylo stood up quickly, gently stomping his foot on the wooden step. In two strides, his long legs had him back to his front door before you could even react.

You had become surprisingly comfortable on the ground, so you stayed seated, but still called out to him. "Hey!" You paused, trying to remember his name. "Kylo? Kylo!" The second time, you said his name a little louder, more confident in its pronunciation. It made him stop, having opened his front door, one foot past the threshold already. He didn't turn around.

You reluctantly retreated from your spot against the car and gently walked up to the house, just below the porch steps, unsure if he was going to continue going inside. It was almost as if you were afraid to scare him away, like an animal, if you moved too quickly.

"I - Where are you going?" You remained at the bottom of the stairs, now wondering if you had provoked him. Maybe he didn't want you to come after him. You were a huge disturbance in his night, after all. He had no obligation to you.

He kept his hand on the doorknob but slightly turned to face you.  Now that he was under the porch lights, you could see the peppering of moles on his face. "I'm going home. As should you."

Taken aback, you stepped away slightly, shivering as you crossed your arms against your chest.  Opening your mouth to speak, nothing came out. It was useless and ridiculous, what you were doing. About to argue with a stranger, about to beg him to not leave you out on the street alone, as if you’d be any safer with him. The exhaustion was  affecting your common sense at this point.

A siren wailed in the distance, getting closer, and shook you out of your internal dialogue. You turned on your heel to leave.

You walked slowly. You didn’t want to leave, not really. Deep down there was something that wanted to keep you there, near Kylo. But you had a theory.

The porch creaked under Kylo’s weight as he moved. “Where are – “

“I’m walking home,” you interrupted.

“By yourself? I don’t fucking think so.” His voice was stern and stopped you in your tracks.

You took a deep breath before you turned around, crossing your arms, prepared to defend your actions.

But there he stood at the top of the steps, now completely towering over you, as if he wasn’t tall enough before. His chest stuck out, and his arms were pushed back at their broad shoulders, fists balled up. Even if he hadn’t been on the porch, you were sure he’d have grown a foot, at least, just because of his posture. He exuded confidence.

You could tell where this was going, but you asked anyway. “Excuse me?”

“I said –.”

Raising a hand, you cut him off. “I know what you said. I’m just trying to figure out why you give a shit. About me. Walking home. Or at all.”

You watched his face as his features hardened and his eyes grew wide just briefly. His face flushed beneath the cover of darkness. He started down the steps towards you, and you immediately took a step back as he reached the ground beneath the last step.

The motion made him throw his hands up to have them fall at his sides as he rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. I’m not going to hurt you. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

You remained silent, unsure of how to react. The man was obviously easy to set off, and you didn’t want to do it again.

He began again, after taking a deep breath. “I – I’m sorry. I – I’m just trying to help you. There’s just bad shit, bad people out there. And I’m just trying to help you, and you’re being incredibly… stubborn.”

You felt the lie coming to the front of your mind, ready to spill out of your lips. You said it before you could even think to stop yourself. “I don’t need your help.”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Kylo seemed to have had enough. In a swift motion, he turned on his heel and scaled the steps in one jump, crossing the porch and closing the door behind him. You’d really done it this time.

You didn’t bother going after him. Besides, you had, in fact, said you didn’t need his help. You were getting déjà vu. Only you hoped he’d ignore your refusal for help just as he had earlier tonight.

The steps were uncomfortable, but they weren’t as cold as the concrete, so you sat there. You entertained returning to your car, where there would at least be a heater, but you didn’t want to waste gas, and quite frankly you were too emotionally and physically drained to move much further at this point. The least Kylo could do was let you sit on his stoop for now.

Though it was just a ruse earlier, you were now seriously considering walking home. If you hadn’t sat around earlier wondering what to do and would have just taken off, you could have been home by now. It wasn’t like your car was going to get fixed tonight, anyway. You had no reason to be here anymore. This strange man was right. You were being stubborn.

Sitting there, you decided to call your friend, Rey, thinking maybe at least having someone to talk to would make your walk go by faster, and be a little safer. If you weren’t going to call your parents earlier, you definitely weren’t going to call them now.  Rey was the only one you could think of that wouldn’t kill you for both waking her up and being such an idiot.

Before you could dial her number, a passing car slowed to a stop, pulling up to the curb just in front of yours. You froze, hoping if you didn’t move, no one would see you. You began to realize there weren’t any other houses on this part of the block, just a warehouse on one side and a body shop on the other. Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for the driver to make a move. You started going through scenarios in your head. If he got out, you’d just smile, say hi, be cordial. But what would he be doing? Did he see you sitting out here – alone? Your stubbornness was going to get you killed.

The driver stayed in the vehicle, while the inside of the car was illuminated by the blue light coming from his cell phone. You could just barely make out his facial features, but you were trying to get a good look in case you needed to know what he looked like later.

The driver’s head turned sharply in your direction, craning around his passenger seat to look towards the house. You panicked, standing up and walking back to the front door. Just act natural.

You thought you should act like you belonged here, but you couldn’t just barge into a stranger’s house just to get away from a possibly unreal danger. But you went through the motions anyway. You reached for the doorknob, with no intention of opening the door. You turned around to see if the driver was following you. Just then, the door swung open and you turned back around with you hand on your chest, obviously startled.

There was Kylo, less than a foot away from you.

The warm air poured out of the house like a blanket, and you were sure some of the heat was coming off of Kylo himself. Realizing he had scared you, he reached out a hand to place on your shoulder. You didn’t back away this time.

“I’m… sorry. About, um…. I called a cab for you.” He pointed over your other shoulder to the street where the new car sat idling.

You sighed, your heart still beating out of your chest, but slowing down now. The last few minutes were slowly starting to make sense. You turned to look at the car, then back at Kylo’s hand on your shoulder. Once he realized what he had done, he quickly removed his hand, running it through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Realizing the awkwardness of the situation – and the night as a whole – you didn’t even look back at Kylo before turning to leave. Once you reached the bottom of the steps, you stopped, and only then did you slightly turn to utter a very humble, “Thanks.”

You weren’t even sure if he heard you, but you honestly couldn’t look the man in the eye.

And he couldn’t stop looking at you.

The back seat of the cab felt like the most comfortable place in the world after the night you had just had. The seats were warmed, the heater was running on high. You settled into the back seat and gave the driver your address.

To ward off falling asleep in the back of the cab, you decided to follow through with calling Rey. Whether she was awake or not, you needed to fill someone in on the night you had.

As you assumed, you got her voicemail. You were almost relieved. You just needed to vent, and not be judged, and the recorder wasn’t going to talk back.

“Okay. I’m just going to leave you a message because this is way too long to text you about.”

You paused, finally fully reflecting on the last few hours. Your head hurt.

You detailed your terribly eventful day at work, building up for dramatic effect before delving into the story about your flat tire.

“So, I’m an idiot. I get off the interstate early, and… and I get a flat tire. At midnight. Downtown. I completely forget everything I’ve ever been taught about changing a tire.”

You thought you heard the driver chuckle, but you ignored him. You were too tired to deal with anyone else’s shit today.

“And I’ve apparently crash landed in this asshole’s front yard, and he’s just casually walking me through what to do from the darkness, as if it’s not creepy. Of course, I get rid of him, but then I can’t get any of the lug nuts off. So I figure, hell, this guy can help. Rey. He was… so built.”

The driver chuckled again, you were sure this time.

“Anyway, we… well, he gets the tire off. And guess whose goddamn spare tire is missing from their trunk?” You groaned and yawned. “So now I’m in a cab. And I’m exhausted. And I’m rambling. Just remind me to tell you more about this guy tomorrow. He was…” You paused. “Hell, I’m just going to say it, he was hot.” You make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. Both of you quickly look away. You faked another yawn. “Hotheaded. He was hotheaded. Guy was an absolute ass. Bye.”  Abruptly hanging up, you slumped down in the back seat, sighing.

It had become too quiet in the cab. You could just barely hear the cool jazz music whispering through the speakers. Deciding against starting a conversation with the driver, you tried to catch glances of him each time the car passed under a streetlight. You weren’t at the right angle to see his face. But his hair you could see, and his orange locks shone like the sun each chance they got.

You were nearly about to doze off when you felt the car come to a stop. The driver turned around in his seat. “Is this it?”

Groggily stirring in your seat, you nodded. ”Yes. Thank you. How much -?”

“Nothing. Your friend took care if it earlier.”

You started at him intently. Of course he did. You grabbed your things and exited the car, saying one last “thank you” before closing the car door.

Even in your tired state, you were sure you saw the car still in front of your house when you looked out the window after looking your front door.

Kylo’s phone rang. He simply answered it and said nothing.

“She’s home. I even made sure she got inside before I drove off.”

A small smile tickled the corner of Kylo’s lips. He nervously wiped it away with his hand, as if someone would see him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. You know I’m good for it.”

“I just really couldn’t let –“

“You totally fell for her, didn’t you, Kylo?”

There was silence for a moment. Kylo froze. Was it that obvious?

The other man chuckled. “Listen, I’m going to tell you this because I’m your friend.”

Kylo remained silent.

“I think she likes you. But she also thinks you’re an asshole.”

Both men laughed. “Well,” Kylo began, sighing. “I’ve been called worse. At least I still have a chance.”

“A chance? How are you going to see her again? If you think I’m telling you where she lives…”

“Hux, no. She’ll be back.” Kylo leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair as he smiled. “She can’t leave her car here forever.”

Part 3

[ecotone99]

[RF] Old Friends

I crawled out from underneath the wreckage of my past and emerged into a world redefined by strength. I understood going forward is going to be hard, really fucking hard. But I won’t be daunted. Since the divorce and having to give the bitch of an ex-wife the house and mostly everything in it, I have built up a little resilience. Earlier tonight and slightly drunk I was laying upon my back, hands clasped behind my head, staring at the cracked motel ceiling, and I contemplated the distorted irony of existence.

------------------

As a boy I had this close friend, Ryan, in whom together we did shit that neither of us ever dared talk about. When we were seven years-old we were discovering the concept of pleasure through touch. At daycare there was an enclosed play area set up underneath a set of stairs, what ordinarily would have been a closet. There was no door. Another friend, Chris, would act as a lookout. Ryan and I would alternate turns dry humping each other’s buttocks reveling in the feeling of something stirring in our loins. We never removed our clothes. I remember the feel of Ryan’s pencil sized penis growing hard and pushing into the crack of my ass. It got me fucking hard too. I turned him around and began to experimentally move my hips, rubbing my own pencil sized penis in the crack of his ass. We didn’t know anything about ejaculation. We were just high on the sensation

“Chris, do you want to try it,” I asked?

“Yeah,” he replied, “who’s going to watch out though?”

“Ryan, you cool with looking out?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

Chris came over and pressed himself up against me and after only a few motions he was hard. He worked it faster than Ryan and his dick felt bigger. The thing bulged underneath his pants and I wanted to see it. I asked him. He unzipped his jeans and pulled it out. It was huge. I turned back around and told him to hump me with it. I could feel its warmth through my jeans. Some new sensation coursed underneath my skin and my body began to hum, sending a small electrical current down my spine and making my knees quiver.

We did this almost daily and no one ever found out. One day I was at Ryan’s house. His parents had lakefront property. We went swimming that day. Once we came in his parents wanted us to shower. Being only seven years-old they didn’t see a problem with us showering together. It would be the first time we would see each other completely naked.

I was standing behind Ryan watching the water run down his smooth buttocks. I had my penis in my hand and began to press it against him. He didn’t resist. So, I took it one step further. I put it up to his hole and began to attempt pushing the head in. The heat emanating from his orifice was maddening, drawing all the blood to my penis until it was fully engorged and hard as I ever felt it grow. But it would not go in. I tried a little force, but I did not know what I was doing. Ryan winced and with an audible gasp, he straightened his back forcing me to frustratingly withdraw. He turned around and grabbed my dick, and I grabbed his, and we jacked each other off for a few minutes. I never felt a penis in my hand before other than my own. It was amazing how different someone else’s feels. Almost like rubber.

His parents knocked on the door. “Are you boys almost done?”

“Yes, mom. Be right out,” Said Ryan.

We shut the water off, towel dried our lithe little bodies, and buried what we just did in a very deep cave of unmentionable secrets.

On the playground at school there were 46” tractor tires buried standing up halfway out of the ground. Kids would convene in them to play. Ryan and I would utilize them for more illicit purposes. It was where the game of “if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine” played out.

“Ryan, go ask Beth if she wants to come in here,” I asked. Beth was girl I long had an obsessive crush on. I even obtained her address and phone number from the school roster. Some nights I would call her just to hear her voice. When she answered I would not say anything. I would just hang up. In the mornings, if I left a little earlier on my walk to school, I would take a detour and walk past her house imagining what she was doing inside. We passed notes in class and played footsie underneath our desks. If I had known anything then about sex, I would have fucked her.

Ryan came running back. “Beth said she would come over,” he huffed excitedly. Peeking out from inside our shelter I saw her walking towards us. Her blonde hair flowing in the subtle breeze. She wore an ankle length dress and looked magnificent.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I replied. “Come on in.”

For a minute there was an awkward silence between the three of us. Ryan and I knew why we called her in here. She didn’t. And we struggled to find the words to explain our intents. Finally, I just came out and said it.

“We want to play a game with you. Do you want to play?”

“What game,” she asked.

“I want to show you my private parts but first I want to see yours.”

At first, she was a little hesitant and concerned. “We’re not going to get caught, are we?”

“No, the teachers are on the other side of the playground.”

She mulled it over for a few seconds and to my utter amazement she reached up underneath her dress and pulled her white cotton panties down to her ankles. This was it. My first-time seeing girl parts. Then she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it above her waist completely exposing herself to me. I just stared dumbfounded.

“Can I touch it,” I asked?

She nodded her head in approval and I slowly extended my hand, gently placing the tips of my fingers against it. The heat of her vagina soaked into my skin. HOLY SHIT! This was real. I reluctantly pulled my hand back and proceeded to keep up my end of the deal. I unzipped my pants and extracted my little erect penis. She looked stunned and I asked if she wanted to touch mine. She didn’t. It seemed to scare her.

Ryan was outside the tire watching for teachers. We concealed our privates and walked out. Something changed in me that day. The Earth’s mysteries peeled slightly back, and I saw a little bit of the universe reveal itself like light coming in from underneath a door.

Ryan and I remained close friends throughout elementary school. We continued to dry hump at daycare and play showing games in tires at school. I would spend nights at his house and after his parents were asleep, I would sneak into his bed and we would masturbate one another without ever ejaculating.

By middle school unfortuitous events unraveled in my personal life that affected our friendship and we stopped talking. Over the years I had no idea what happened to him. We lost contact. It has been twenty-five years now since I heard from him.

----------------------

Last week I got off work several hours earlier than what I was supposed to. I didn’t call home and tell my wife. I wanted to surprise her and devote the extra time to doing something special. Maybe a movie, or dinner, or just some couch time snuggling underneath the Afghan.

I pulled into the driveway and did not take notice of the car parked alongside our curb. I inserted my key into the front lock and quietly opened the door hoping to catch her off guard. And did I ever. She wasn’t in the living room, so I moved into the kitchen. No wife. Hmm… Maybe she is napping. I placed my hand gently upon the doorknob of our bedroom and turned it very slowly, not to awaken her. Pushing the door open just a crack I peered in and saw only the bareness of her back as she sat astride someone in our fucking bed.

“What the fuck,” I bellowed?

She instantly rolled over on her side and pulled the sheet around her body to hide not her nakedness, but her shame. I turned fucking red and charged the bed grabbing the motherfucker laying there by his ankles and dragging him off. His head hit the floor with a resounding thud as I stomped a boot clad foot upon his chest, dropped to my knees and put my hands around his sweat slick throat.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch! Tell me who the fuck you are before you die.”

He tried to talk but my grip on his neck was to tight and all he could vociferate was weak grumbling. His eyes bulged and his skin was discoloring. I was going to kill him. My capacity for reason had entirely vacated from me.

“Let him go,” my wife pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s your fucking fault, you whore,” I spat. “You did this to him by bringing him into our bed. Now shut-up!”

She continued crying and pleading but never got off the bed. I looked down at the stranger as he reached up and wrapped his hands over mine trying feebly to break my hold. I saw the terror in his eyes. But behind the fear there was a familiarity. A sharp striking resemblance to someone I used to know. And then it hit me.

I released my hold and he rolled over gasping for breath.

“I fucking know you,” I said. “What’s your god-damn name?”

For a minute there was only the sound of his gasping as he regained his breath.

“Ryan,” he choked out. “My fucking name is Ryan. Jesus Christ, you tried to kill me.”

“Yeah, you were fucking this cunt that is my wife. You’re lucky if I still don’t decide to kill you anyhow. Wait, you said Ryan? I knew you looked familiar. It’s Sam.”

“Oh shit. This is bad. What the fuck? How the hell? I don’t get it. How? Sam from childhood?”

“Yes,” I said. We both became silent and tried to comprehend the improbability of this circumstance. I reasoned that I could not be angry at him for my wife’s infidelity. It wasn’t his fault. He had no idea. He is just a man and when an attractive woman offers a single man her pussy, he would be queer if he didn’t accept. He was only acting on his basic animal drives. But it was her that lied and purposefully dishonored a commitment. He could only be mad at her.

“Come on man, get up off the floor already,” I said while at the same time offering my hand to help him up. He took it and the blanket fell away. I couldn’t resist stealing a glimpse at his dick. It was still slick and glistening with the secretions of my wife’s cum and it had definitely grown since he was a boy. My wife could not have had any complaints. I wondered how long they had been fucking. Better I don’t know.

Ryan got dressed and I invited him out to grab something to eat.

“We’re cool, Sam,” he asked looking for assurance and safety?

“Yeah. And I’m sorry about putting a boot in your chest and choking you.”

“It’s fine. I would have done the same thing if I had a wife and walked in on someone fucking her too.”

I took Ryan to a bar instead. We ordered a couple of cheeseburgers and told the barkeep to keep the beers coming. We spent hours reminiscing over the past and filling in the gaps of our lives since we fell out of touch. But we never brought up any of the perverted shit we did. We kept it secret even to ourselves. An uncomfortable denial born from an uncomfortable shame.

Before we parted Ryan said to me, “I promise I will never go back to her. That’s your wife man. And even if you leave her, I still won’t. Just knowing she was your wife makes it wrong. Again, I am sorry man.”

“Not your fault. Apparently, something was dead in our marriage. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. Kind of glad it was you though. It made it easier to deal with and gave us a chance to catch up on some old memories. You have a good one Ryan. Call me sometime. You got my cell now.”

I walked several blocks down the road to a motel I knew had cheap rates. I wasn’t going home. That was three months ago. I filed for divorce, didn’t contest anything. She got an attorney and I told her it was a waste of money. I said I didn’t want anything except to be rid of her. I just wanted to wash my hands and move on. Start over. A new life. Something different. Nothing to remind me of her. A total purge. The divorce was finalized and until I figure out what I would like to do, this motel is home for now. It’s kind of nice to be alone again. I missed the solitude.

submitted by /u/trevorwaller [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/37SUuqX

[kayfabejake]

WWE Survivor Series 2018 PPV Review

I mean, I’m not expecting it to top TakeOver of course, but I am pretty excited for this PPV. Let’s go ahead and get started.

Date: 11.18.18 / Arena: Staples Center - Los Angeles, CA / Attendance: 16320 / Tagline: N/A

Women’s Survivor Series Match Nia Jax, Tamina, Mickie James, Sasha Banks, & Bayley “Team Raw” def. Naomi, Asuka, Mandy Rose, Sonya Deville, Carmella “Team Smackdown” Sole Survivor: Nia Jax in (20:09)

Bayley and Sasha inserted last second? Okay, I like it

Crowd is hot at first but seems to have cooled down unfortunately

Wonderful Thesz Press off the top rope by Mickie James. What a pro

Dissent between Deville and Rose

GOD THE MARKETING OF THIS SHOW IS SO ANNOYING WE ALL KNOW SMACKDOWN IS THE BETTER BRAND

“Well Cole, you’re an idiot.” GO OFF GRAVES

Backstabber into Banks Statement is a dope sequence

Asuka looking mildly vicious? What’s this?

Nia Jax’s heat is absolutely nuclear. I’m honestly starting to suspect the whole thing with Becky is a work like Jericho says.

Jax & Banks vs Asuka is a sick matchup

Lol yeah Jax throws Banks off the top rope. Imagine not thinking you’re being worked here

Becky Lynch run in?

No! Jax is the Sole Survivor. The fuck?

My Rating [2*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [2.75*]

Seth Rollins pins Shinsuke Nakamura in (21:26).

Fuck, what a cool matchup. Yet another moment where I just sigh and remember how much I love wrestling

Shinsuke rocking the blue, not an awful look! The deep V is hawt

COME ONNNNNNN yess Shinsuke get in this man’s head

The feeling out phase is going on too long here

“Nakamura is also an American hero” yes, Graves, he is. I agree

Absolutely brutal punishment on the outside between both guys

They keep putting over Rollins’ head not being in the match but its not really showing in the match itself

So many fucking rest holds OMG. Both these guys are so dynamic, why is the match so slow?

Rollins dumps Nak off the side aaaaaand the suicide dive! The double suicide dive! The crowd calls for a triple and ROLLINS OBLIGES! 

Flying springboard clothesline from Rollins!

A badass spinning kick from Nak

High impact superkick from Rollins...wow, that was brutal

Rollins reverses the triangle hold into a bucklebomb on Shinsuke!

Rollins does the superplex roll-through into Falcon Arrow is super cool but...he does it constantly. always impressive but i knew exactly what was coming when he went up there

Reverse exploder from Nakamura sets up Kinshasa, misses, Rollins counters into a two count

Curb stomp and Rollins beats Nakamura. Cooooooool, man. Not boring or uninteresting at all considering the lack of interference or anything.

My Rating [3.5*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [3.75*]

Sheamus & Cesaro “The Bar” w/ The Big Show def. Akam & Rezar “AoP” w/ Drake Maverick in (09:04).

What the fuck is this match lol. Insane skill on display with the Big Show just standing around.

If they’re putting over Maverick’s ability to make AoP tag champs...are they technically burying Ellering?

Punch, Cesaro, punch away! Again and again!

a pretty sweet double hot tag spot and Sheamus goes ham

Drake Maverick fucking pisses himself, but that’s a distraction and AoP roll up Sheamus after a double team hit. Jesus christ this is so cringey. You could also see Drake grabbing at his crotch to get the gimmick going. Boring with an incredibly bad finish

My Rating [1*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [1.75*]

Cruiserweight Championship Match Buddy Murphy [c] pins Mustafa Ali in (12:19)

Right out of the gates they’re going hard, insane flip by Ali off the top rope and onto the side

And a massive fucking push into the barricade from Murphy to Ali jesus

These guys are insanely good but they probably need two TakeOver type events a year in order to make me feel invested in the stories at all

Some fucking comically complicated and impressive spinning DDT from Ali, holy shit

Ridiculous Spanish Fly by Ali off the table

Vicious powerbomb into sit down powerbomb by Murphy

“This is awesome” chants kick in, and it’s seeming like they’re turning down crowd noise here--I can’t imagine why to be honest

Dope match but Itami / Murphy the other week was better tbh

My Rating [3.75*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [4*]

Men’s Survivor Series Match Bobby Lashley, Finn Balor, Dolph ZIggler, Drew McIntyre, & Braun Strownman “Team Raw” def. The Miz, Jeff Hardy, Samoa Joe, Rey Mysterio, and Shane McMahon “Team SmackDown” in (23:58)

Already pissed because Balor has to wear a fucking shirt

CHA CHING CHA CHING HERE COMES SHANE O FUCKING MAC

Claymore Kick from McIntyre to Joe and IMMEDIATELY pins Joe. Fuck that. The crowd agrees and chants bullshit.

Shane O’Mac throwing them potatoes at Ziggler lmao

I understand he’s not a great wrestler, but I will never ever understand the vitriol of some of the Shane hate. He’s so fun and so willing to put his body on the line

a pretty great story being told here with SmackDown being able to cooperate and mack up for the difference in size and skill while Raw has insane amounts of power but can’t work together

SHANE MCMAHON OFF THE TOP TURNBUCKLE ONTO THE ANNOUNCE TABLE YES KING

Such a stiff stomp from Balor he would up falling on top of Miz omg

BALOR JUST POPPING THE FUCK OFF WHAT CHAOS

Mysterio pins Balor, damn

Lashley just fucking up Mysterio

OH MY GOD SHANE ISNT GONNA GO COAST TO COAST ON ZIGGLER BUT HE DOES AND HE PINS DOLPH

SHANE IS NOT GOING TO GO COAST TO COAST A SECOND TIME ON LASHLEY WHAT THE FUCK BUT HE TRIES AND GETS DECKED BY BRAUN ON THE SIDE

Shane is the last one left for SmackDown. Get ready for some bullshit that will make the internet mad lmao

Or...not. Raw just fucking wins. Ok. What the hell. This is dumber than Shane shenanigans.

My Rating [3*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [3.75*]

Ronda Rousey def. Charlotte Flair by DQ in (14:11)

Not smooth or technically sound, really, but absolutely brutal and believable

SPEAR FROM CHARLOTTE ON A FIRED UP ROUSEY GODDAMN

Ronda is really good at selling that leg, I was genuinely concerned at multiple points

RONDA HITS THE PIPER’S PIT THAT LOOKS VICIOUS

Charlotte viciously attacks with the Kendo stick is this a HEEL TURN? A DQ finish but goddamn do i love this

CHARLOTTE WITH THE CHAIR

NATURAL SELECTION ONTO THE CHAIR ROUSEY IS SO FUCKING BLOODIED

THE CHAIR AROUND RONDA’S NECK HOLY FUCK

where were you when Ronda was kill

such props to Ronda for taking this beating

All of a sudden Rousey looks very mortal and I love it

My Rating [4.25*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [4.25*]

Brock Lesnar pins Daniel Bryan in (18:43)

So...is Bryan gonna win via Heyman screwjob? Because the commentators keep putting over how Lesnar is absolutely guaranteed to win

Bryan just fucking around with Lesnar lmao

“I’m...legit concerned for Daniel Bryan” -Renee Young

Lesnar just fucking ragdolling Bryan

Bryan is “out”

yeesh...just what the fuck

REVERSAL WHAT THE FUCK

THE YES LOCK

THE YES LOCK

Lesnar wins. I can’t believe I let my hopes get up. Fuck.

My Rating [4*] / Daddy Meltzer’s Rating [4.5*]

Overall PPV Grade: B

One of the better main roster PPVs of 2018, Survivor Series had an incredibly strong card despite the loss of Becky Lynch. The SS matches themselves were a mixed bag but overall enjoyable, and Bryan vs. Lesnar as well as Flair vs. Rousey tore the fucking house down. Really solid stuff.

-11/20/18