#guys... what if he took the radiation drug because he wanted to be with his boyfriend? 🥺

[chocmoon-latte]

Somehow only JUST discovered this today from the Fallout RPG core rulebook (via the wiki). MY HEAARRTTT 😭

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

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There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don��t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

OK OK BUT JOY, the prompt: “If you die, I die. Don’t you get that!” Between Irondad?! Either way! ASDGHJKL ANGST

AHHHH!!! Mini-fic time?? Yes. Yes, Mini-fic time.

Here it is, at 997 words. A lot of action, leading to a short panic-induced argument... and a hug. Because of course, there is a hug. :D Enjoy!! [click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Died...

Peter hadn’t meant to get in over his head. It was just- he needed to keep his neighborhood safe, and he had powers. It wasn’t like he could see a problem and just walk away. But he had been careful. He’d used his tools and his abilities to access the situation. He’d asked his AI to run facial recognition on everyone involved and had cross-referenced their information through several databases; just to make sure he knew what he was up against. 

Three regular guys, selling regular drugs inside a regular empty warehouse. That was it. Nothing about it had been alarming or ominous. So, taking them out should have been easy. And technically it was. It was the swarm of armed individuals that had flooded in after that had been the problem. He had that too for a while. Then the big guys came in. Three of them, with large shoulders and enhanced strength that matched his own. He was having a difficult time dividing his attention between the projectiles and the hands being aimed at his face. 

“Karen?” He dodged, while shooting webs that never seemed to hit their mark. When they did, they never held for long. The big guys  busted right out of them. “A little back up would be nice.”

“Of course, Peter. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

Peter ducked and slid beneath one of the large men’s legs. “Wait! Isn’t- Is Captain America available?” He spun around, sending his foot into the guy's knee cap. The impact made no difference; like a child kicking a fencepost. “Maybe Black Widow? Hawkeye?”

There was no debate. “Mr. Stark is already in route.” Three dots appeared on his HUD along with an ETA. 

Peter wanted to fret over his mentor's imminent arrival but there wasn’t time. Whenever he thought he had one of the men restrained, they broke free and he had to start over again. One down, two to go. Two down, one- no, still two to go. It was a vicious cycle.

Ten minutes later a blast came from the right. A hole appeared in the wall and Iron Man, gauntlets ablaze, flew through it. Peter looked up. The momentary distraction allowed enough time for a football sized fists to make contact with his stomach. He flew backwards, through a spray of ammunition, and landed in the wall. 

The comms crackled to life. Peter wished they hadn't. Pain was already radiating from the back of his skull down and down his spine. When Mr. Stark shouted his name, his ears began to ring. Dazedly, he looked up. Mr. Stark was swooping around the room. Metal clanked and repulsors whirred. Peter struggled to get to his feet to help. Mr. Stark’s voice was back in his ears.

“Stay down, Spider-Man! You’re done!”

Peter blinked. He took stock of his body. The blow had hurt, but he had enhanced strength and a healing factor. He shook out his limbs and demeaned himself well enough to continue. “I’m good. Just a little-” 

He didn’t get to finish. Mr. Stark flew by, lifted his faceplate and scowled. “I said you’re done!”

The tone gave Peter pause. Reluctantly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I’m really okay,” he whispered, despite his throbbing head.

“And I’m really not discussing this will you,” Mr. Stark quipped. “I’m just about done here. You stay put. Capice?”

Peter nodded and looked around. Most of the little guys had fled. And only one of the larger men remained standing. Clearly his webbing needed an upgrade. Maybe taser webs with a manual detonation. A range of fifty to ninety thousand volts would probably do it. Could the suit handle that without increasing the power? He was unable to finish the math before Mr. Stark was in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Peter allowed himself to be lifted to the top of a nearby water tower. He pulled his mask off and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Stark, I-”

“Do you have any idea who those people are, what they’re capable of?” Mr. Stark gestured wildly toward the warehouse.

Peter shifted his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. Did you even stop to ask?” Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist. “There were two dozen lacheys and three giant bruises in there! What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t- it was three normal guys when I started!” he half-shouted. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Stark didn’t look keen to listen. “The others just- showed up!”

Mr. Stark took a step forward. “You could have died in there, Peter!”

“I wasn’t going to die!” he defensively shouted. “I have super-powers and I did call for back-up!”

“Your AI said you had been going at it for over an hour before you called! Peter-” Mr. Stark looked frantic with his hands running through his hair.  “Peter, I don’t know how to explain this to you any more clearly. I-” His face dropped, all blood draining from his face. “What if you had died? Then what?”

 Frustrated, Peter gritted his teeth. “It’s on you.”

Mr. Stark blinked. “No. No, bud. That’s not- geez.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his breaths increasing as he spoke. “Pete. If you die, I die! Do you get that? If you die- I will never recover. I will-”

Peter’s brows furrowed with realization. Mr. Stark was having a panic attack. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped closer, his hand going to the back of his hair.  “My head hurts but that’s it..”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Just- promise me you won’t wait so long to call for help next time. Because- Peter? Peter, I can’t lose you.”

Eyes closed tight, Peter nestled his face into Mr. Stark's chest. “I promise, Mr. Stark. You won’t lose me.”

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #12: Fever Dream

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content: lab whump, captivity, fever, drugging, comfort, electrocution, parent death mention, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

— 

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more terrified.

The past week, he had been planning a real escape with his little snake friend. He and Sasha had been crawling through the vents every night, mentally mapping out every twist and turn, every exit and entrance, every dead end. It was hard without a flashlight, but they would make do. The two of them decided to take it slow; no use rushing something and risk being caught, having the entire plan ruined.

They weren’t in a hurry. They knew Dew’s escape plan had to be absolutely flawless, with no possible way of getting caught. So even if it took weeks, they would take it slow.

But after everything, lying to the scientist was taking a toll. Dew had accidentally constructed an intricate web of lies he had to constantly keep track of. If Anton confronted him on just one hole in his stories, Dew would be done for. He’d crumble, too scared for what would happen if he kept lying.

So Dew tried to avoid his captor growing suspicious at all costs with the only way he knew how. Dew hated talking to Anton like a friend, having friendly conversations with the scientist after experiments, talking about his life, laughing, smiling. But gaining Anton’s trust was a priority. Besides, if Dew did get caught in this web of lies, maybe his captor would go easy on him because of this.

It was about a week after he met Sasha, and Dew found himself with a terrible headache, right after waking up. The lights were off, so it must’ve been early in the morning. He rolled over and held his head in his hands, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His stomach felt like shit too. No. Was he getting sick? He supposed that made sense, considering how long he’d been here. But this certainly wouldn’t help things.

Dew laid there for hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Eventually, the lights clicked on, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. A little bit after that, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up to his room.

“...Dewey? Are you okay?” Anton asked, walking into Dew’s room and putting the tray of food on his nightstand. The truth was, Dew looked like absolute shit. He was racked with sniffles and coughs, with piles of used tissues littered around him. Oh. Anton’s lab rat must be coming down with something.

Dew only mumbled an incomprehensible response, curling into himself and moving deeper under the warm blankets, as if searching for a false sense of security. Anton walked closer, now noticing that Dew’s wings were trembling.

“Hey, Dewey? What’s wrong?” Anton’s voice came out soft, quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare the little guy more than he already was. “Are you sick?”

“What does it look like?” Dew hissed, but his voice came out groggy and strained. He sounded absolutely miserable. He looked miserable. “I’m sick, Anton, obviously. I probably have a fever or something.” The scientist tilted his head and reached out his arm to Dew’s forehead, trying to feel his temperature.

“Don’t touch me.” Dew flinched back and swatted Anton’s hand away with his wing. He turned his body to the other side and buried his face into his pillow. “Just leave me–” Alone. Dew shuddered. He didn’t want that either. His voice softened. “I mean… Can you um- j-just get me some water? Please? The stuff in the bathroom sink is gross.”

Anton stepped back, giving Dew space. “Uh, Sure.” When the scientist left, Dew had a sudden spurt of coughs and sneezes. He groaned into his pillow, wishing he didn’t feel like this.

“Here you go, Dewey.” Anton smiled and handed him the water.

“My name’s not Dewey,” Dew complained into his pillow.

Anton smirked. “What was that, Dewey? Your voice is all muffled.”

Dew immediately sat up and shot Anton a glare, then groaned in pain and held a hand to his head. Too fast. He sat up too fast and now the room was spinning and his headache was worse.

“Gimme the water,” Dew said, sniffling.

“Pfft, rude.” But Anton handed it to him anyway.

Dew flopped back down onto the bed when he was done, and rolled over. “My head hurts,” Dew said weakly. “Can you um, dim the lights a little more? It’s hurting my eyes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anton turned the lights down until he saw Dew visibly relax.

“Thanks,” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. But, Dewey. You can’t just stay in bed all day.”

Dew turned to look at him incredulously. “I… I have a fever I think. I’m sick. A-Anton, I can’t- I don’t feel good.”

“Well, yeah, but I can just–”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with Anton’s antics right now, whatever that man was planning. Dew took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking away. His eyes widened at something new. “...Wait, what is that?” He asked, surprised. He sat up and pointed to a bag that he noticed was sitting on the floor next to the wall.

“Oh,” Anton said as he picked it up. “It’s the night-light you asked for.”

Dew looked at him with a puzzled expression. “...Really?”

“Yeah, you wanted one, remember? I don’t understand all your silly fears, but whatever.” Anton tossed a strange object to Dew, and he scrambled to catch it.

The night-light in question was a little, round, white cartoonish ghost, made out of plastic with small LED lights in the middle. There were two little black dots for eyes and a small smile printed on its face. Dew turned the light on, and quickly squeezed his eyes shut at how bright it was. He turned it off, and rotated it around in his hands. It was cute, a bit silly, sure. But it was bright enough to light up the vents. It was perfect.

“Um, thanks,” Dew said. “I like it.”

“Cool. Oh! I got something else for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Anton smiled and pulled something out of the bag. Dew looked up, right as a blur of something fluffy and white was being thrown at him. He scrambled to catch it and get a look at whatever it was. Anton snickered, standing awkwardly next to his bed. “I saw it at the store and immediately thought of you.”

Dew looked down, and in his arms was a large, very fluffy and soft… chicken plushie? “What…”

“You both have wings! You’re like a giant chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken!” Dew said angrily, clutching his plushie in his arms anyway. He had to admit, it was really soft. He had a lot of plushies back home, and he missed snuggling with them. “What is this, um, for anyway?”

“I just thought you needed a friend. I suppose it gets lonely down here without me.”

“...Yeah,” Dew said quietly. “It does.”

Anton figited and walked closer, voice turning serious. “...Dew, how are you feeling?”

“Not good. I just wanna rest. …Please.”

“Hmm,” Anton hummed. Dew broke out in a burst of coughs. “I have an idea.”

“W-what kind of idea?” Dew asked miserably. “Can I just have some headache medicine or something?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” Anton waved him off while fishing something out of his pocket, seemingly not paying attention to what Dew was saying at all. The scientist pulled out a tape recorder, and clicked it on. “Alright,” Anton said. “The date is Saturday, September 21, 7:32am. Test subject seems to be sick with a fever. I’ll do some tests, and then–”

“Tests?” Dew asked miserably.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel good, Anton. Ca-can we just take a break? For one day?”

“You’ve had a lot of breaks recently, Dew. I wanna have some fun.”

“So do I.” 

Anton shrugged. “The experiments are fun.”

“They are not! They’re– They’re painful and traumatizing!” Dew wrapped his wings around himself and curled deeper into a ball.

“...What’s fun for you then?”

Dew furrowed his brows. Was Anton really asking what Dew liked to do for fun? Why did he care? “Um,” Dew began. “Playing video games, drawing, going outside, flying. Anything that, you know, doesn’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Anton sighed. He looked deep in thought, which never ended well. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“...Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Anton shrugged. “If you behave.”

“Mmm,” Dew hummed anxiously, considering his lack of options. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled wide and ruffled Dew’s hair, who in turn, tried not to shy away from it. Behaving meant accepting Anton’s kind gestures, right?

“Okay, so I guess you wanna be healed from your fever, huh?”

“What? You can…?”

Anton rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.” He pulled out a flask of glowing fluid from behind his back, and held it out to him. “Drink this. You should go back to normal. In fact, you’ll probably even feel better than you did before.”

Dew eyed the flask warrily. It was no different from the other strange fluids the scientist makes him drink, but this gave Dew a weird feeling. It was a dark purple, with rivers of red and colorful specks flowing through it. It looked thick, with bubbles popping and floating upwards. Just looking at it made Dew more nauseous, the opposite effect it was supposed to have, Dew thought.

But he reached out to grab it anyway, like Anton said. But as he was about to grab the flask, Anton pulled it out of reach.

“Dew, your hands are shaking. I don’t want you to spill it.”

Dew glared at him. “What even is it anyway?”

“Medecine.” Not helpful. “I can’t let any spill and go to waste. This stuff is hard to make.”

The “medicine” became more and more unappealing the longer Dew looked at it. But whatever, he’d rather just get this whole thing over with. “Fine.”

Anton grabbed Dew’s chin gently, and brought the flask towards his mouth. “Open.”

Dew opened his mouth and allowed Anton to bring the flask to his lips. Dew drank it; downed it all in one go, despite the disgusting taste. Anton let go of his chin and blacked away, now looking bored.

Dew felt… wrong. The second he was done drinking it, he was hit with a wave of dizziness, and leaned back against the wall for support. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to stay upright.

“What’s… happening?” Dew asked worriedly, voice breaking.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Just relax. When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal.”

Dew blinked heavily and tried sitting up, but Anton firmly pushed him back down. “What–”

“Go to sleep, Dew.”

Dew shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake. But once his head hit the soft pillow, and he was wrapped up in cozy blankets, his eyes finally fluttered shut. Everything went black, and Dew drifted off into a short, peaceful sleep.

Anton stepped back and looked around the room. “Holy shit this place is a mess.”

. . .

Dew woke up to see Anton leaning over him, with his usual smirk on his face. Dew’s face scrunched up in fear and he turned his head away. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into this warm bed forever.

“How’re you feeling?” Anton asked.

Dew glared at him, but after thinking about it, Dew realized he felt better.

“Woah,” he breathed. “I feel… great.” Great as in, Dew wasn’t tired anymore. He didn’t feel sleep deprived at all, quite the opposite really. Of course, he wasn’t sick anymore either. His headache was gone and his temperature was normal. Besides the obvious, stagnant feeling of fear and dread that came with being kept captive, Dew felt okay.

“Told you.” Anton teased.

“Thanks for… helping me. Really. I felt like complete shit earlier.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anton waved him off as if it didn’t matter. “I need to keep you healthy, remember? And it’s no fun when you’re… down in the dumps.” Anton trailed off. “Just eat your food.”

Dew looked at the tray. Waffles again, an apple, and a banana. As he ate, the scientist watched him.

“So…” Dew thought about what Anton said earlier, giving the empty tray to him when he was done. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Follow me.”

They headed out of the lab and up the stairs, Dew following closely behind. The scientist said nothing as they walked, allowing tension to rise in the air.

Dew also remained silent, but his mind wandered. Whatever Anton wanted to do involved going outside again, which Dew was always thankful for. Although this time, his captor hadn’t put any restraints on his wings yet, like he always did when they went outside to keep him from flying away.

Dew looked at the scientist incredulously. What was going on? Did he forget? Was this all some test to see if Dew wouldn’t try to fly away and escape? Why?

Dew kept walking by Anton’s side, too afraid to question anything. Maybe Anton just forgot. That’d be unlikely, but still possible.

Once they entered the cabin and Dew got sight out of the window, his wings started flapping lightly, excitedly, apprehensively. He wanted to fly– he needed to fly. His captor was taunting him with this. He had to be.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked. He didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he’d rather Anton do something about it now, rather than find out when Dew inevitably tried to escape while out there. Because Dew already knew that he couldn’t escape with Anton around, not without being so easily mind-controlled. “You um, you for-forgot something–” He hated himself for this, but Dew already had an escape plan. This could destroy it.

“I didn’t forget anything, Dew,” Anton said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dew stood, glued to his spot. “I’m not stupid, Anton,” He hissed. “The second I go outside, I-I won’t be able to resist flying away, you know this! I don’t want you to hurt me for trying to escape again! I don’t want to be mind-controlled or poked with a needle o-or never be allowed outside again, or worse, just because of a stupid mistake!” I don’t want this to interfere with the plan I already have.

“Woah, jeeze,” Anton laughed. “Relax. This isn’t a trick—”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Dew,” Anton grabbed his shoulders, making eye contact. “I can assure you, this will be fun for you. As long as you behave. You can do that right?”

“Y-yeah, I can.” But he really didn’t want to.

“I know you can.” Dew flinched when Anton patted him on the head, and then they walked outside.

When they hit the fresh, cool autumn air, Dew’s wings stretched out to feel the wind in his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air and disappear into the trees, but he had to control himself. His wings fluttered lightly in the air, basking in the sun and savoring this new sensation of a fake freedom.

This was okay. As long as Dew focused on his sensations now, he could deal with being stuck to the ground. He could gain Anton’s trust, he could stick to the plan.

Dew followed Anton a few steps away from the front door, and then off of the porch and into the grass.

“Fly.”

The word hit his ears like a truck. It was as if the entire world stopped, and all Dew could hear was his rapidly beating heart.

“W-what?”

Anton laughed, stepping away from his test subject. “You heard me, Dewey. Fly!”

“You said this– this wasn’t a trick.”

“Not a trick,” Anton snickered. “I can assure you.”

The scientist motioned with his arms, a big grin on his face. “Go ahead, fly.”

Dew glared at him, but he didn’t waste a second. He flew. He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings rapidly, never taking his eyes off Anton and the sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Dew blinked back tears, knowing freedom was right there, in his grasp. The scientist was allowing him to fly outside unrestrained, but still, Anton would never let him go. Dew didn’t know what his game was, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He knew he would lose.

Dew swallowed thickly, flying just a bit higher, expecting to be shot down by tranquilizer darts or told to stop like last time— those words flowing into his brain and controlling his movements as if he was nothing but a puppet. His heart sped up when that didn’t happen, and he flew higher. His captor wasn’t doing anything besides standing there and watching him, his figure getting smaller and smaller the higher Dew went.

Dew couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t resist freedom being closer than it had ever been before. His wings flapped into the air with a hope that was almost too much to bear. Was he really doing this? Was this it? He reached the top of the trees, and was about to fly above the forest and into the clouds when he suddenly felt a sharp pain all over his body.

A faint “It worked!” could be heard from the ground, but that hardly mattered.

Dew screamed, his voice a shattering shriek. He grabbed at his neck– his arms– his head– but the feeling of every fiber in his body being on fire wouldn’t go away. His eyes widened as he felt himself falling, trying and failing to flap his wings and catch himself. His wings had stopped working, going limp in the air while he cried. He couldn’t fly. He flailed his arms as he plummeted to the ground, down and down and down.

Dew landed roughly on a large tree branch, getting the wind knocked out of him and scraping his arms while trying to hang on. His body stinged, splinters digging into his hands and panic rising in his gut. Dew’s grip loosened and he tumbled to the ground, with no way to soften the landing.

He laid there for a few moments, his head pounding with a terrible ringing in his ears. His wings twitched as his muscles gained control over them and his body again. Dew’s hands curled into the dirt and he scrunched up in a ball, not caring that his hair was getting tangled in the autumn leaves. He didn’t move from the spot.

“Shit.” Dew heard the scientist curse as he ran towards him. Lying there would do nothing, Dew realized. He felt his blood boil, this time in anger as he turned his head to face him.

“Wh-what did you think was gonna happen?” Dew spat, still struggling on the ground, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t think you would try flying away, since I specifically told you not to,” Anton sneered.

Dew felt venom rise in his throat. “How could I resist? You told me to fly! Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to leave?!”

“Because you should have known I’m smarter than just letting you go like that. And because you should know you’re never leaving.” Anton sighed. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

“No.” Dew blinked back tears. His arm that he landed on hurt, bad. He needed help. But fuck, he was angry. Dew huffed in frustration and crawled towards Anton, letting the scientist help him stand. Dew leaned against him as they walked towards the cabin.

“W-what even happened up there?” Dew’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” Anton took out the device he used for mind-controlling him. “If you fly too far away, there’s an invisible barrier that sends a shock through your nervous system to stop you from leaving.” Anton spoke as if that wasn’t completely earth-shattering news to his little lab rat. He set Dew down on the stairs, and took out a first aid kit.

“A-Anton,” Dew began, voice wavering. “Please, p-please tell me there’s a way to turn that off.”

“There is,” Anton replied simply. “But we’ll never need to use it.” Anton started looking over Dew’s wounds. He had a lot of cuts and scrapes from falling through the trees, but nothing that couldn’t be easily patched up. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to fly outside for once, safely, without risking you escaping.”

Dew ignored what the scientist was doing and stared at him, eyes burning with hatred. He could grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the scientist’s eye and take the device that controlled his body. He could destroy it and fly away before his captor could catch him. He could be free. Right. Now.

Dew shook those thoughts away. It was the worst idea he had ever had, and he knew it would never work. He tried to calm his racing heart, and stop the fire rising in his throat. The scientist was just toying with him. He needed to calm down before he made things worse.

He hissed back a whine as his wounds were tended to. Anton didn’t seem to care about his pain, and held Dew firmly in place.

He looked at the sky, needing a distraction. But the sun was so bright and it hurt his eyes, so he looked away. He caught a glimpse of Sasha through the cabin window, and Dew tilted his head. They were watching him. Of course, Anton had allowed Sasha free reign of his house, probably even the outside too. The two of them stared at each other. Sasha knew what he was thinking, and the snake slowly shook their head “no.” Dew knew what they meant. Don't try escaping. It’s not your time. Stick to the plan.

Despite his friend only trying to help, Dew felt himself deflate, all the hope and fiery spark of adrenaline leaving him. His only option really was to comply for now, despite being so close to freedom. It would be hard; Dew would have to force himself to fly into the cool air while not going too far away. Whatever that meant.

“What now?” Dew asked begrudgingly.

“You and Sasha done with your staring contest?”

“Uh– yeah?”

“Then keep flying out here.” Anton shrugged and sat down on the porch stairs. “It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“W-well yeah, but—”

“I’m not letting you go. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dew didn’t waste his time, he jumped into the air. He hovered in front of Anton for a few seconds, before darted away into the trees. Anton smirked and leaned back against the porch railing.

Dew flew over the cabin and landed on the roof. His heart pounded through his skull and he felt like it would explode. He wanted so badly to leave, fly away and never turn back. But he knew what would happen, so he would play Anton’s game. For now.

Dew sat perched up there for a few moments, looking around him. What were the limits? Dew questioned. Despite still being trapped, he wanted to make the most of this new development. How far could he fly without his entire body being electrocuted and cause his wings to momentarily stop working? Dew shuddered even thinking about it.

He wondered what his captor was up to. Dew slowly crawled across the roof and peaked over the edge directly above the scientist. Anton looked up, Dew scurred backwards.

…There always was the possibility of Dew being able to snatch that device away from him so he couldn’t be controlled anymore. He shuddered thinking about it. The chip in his brain that allowed himself to be mind-controlled, now shocked him whenever he went too far away. It was honestly impressive how much Anton could do to him now, just to keep him his.

But Dew knew that trying to escape would be futile now. He had a plan and needed to stick to it. But… Now there was a hole in their plan. Dew couldn’t actually leave. Shit.

He would have to tell Sasha about this new development later, and fit, “stealing the device connected to Dew’s brain chip from Anton,” into their escape plan.

So for now, Dew took advantage of his free time outside. He stood on top of the roof and spread his wings out, cherishing how relaxing and satisfying it felt to finally not have them restrained outdoors. He started flying again, careful to not go too high or far and hurt himself again.

He looked down to see Anton, nothing but a fleck of dust to him at this height. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Dew had dreamed a lot about days of flying freely, finally escaping the clutches of captivity and being kept as a test subject. This felt like those dreams, this felt too good to be true, even if he was still trapped. But it also felt so real.

…Because it was. Anton simply wanted to let Dew have fun for once.

“I’m going for a walk!” Anton called from below.

Dew stared at him, and then slowly made his way to the ground. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“You can come with me, you know.”

Dew looked at Anton, then back at the cabin. “But–”

“The barrier isn't surrounding the house, it's around me. As long as you’re by me, you’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Dew walked up to him. “Same, uh, distance?” He asked.

Anton nodded. “Same distance.”

With that, Dew darted up into the trees, out of his captor’s sight. Anton walked the same trail they always had, but instead of walking, Dew was hopping from tree to tree, taking the high ground. It was oddly satisfying watching the scientist from above, like he was nothing but a bug that could be easily stomped on.

As Anton kept walking, Dew kept following from above, sometimes gliding in a circle above the scientist, like a crow surrounding a decaying carcass. Anton paid him no mind, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, letting Dew explore the woods around him.

Then Dew sat, perched on a tree branch, when a squirrel scurried up to him. He went ridgid, expecting it to run away. But it sat there with him on that tree branch, doing its own thing. Dew stared, confused, but content. He and the squirrel were both just… existing. At the same time, in the same space, doing the same thing, but in far different circumstances neither of them could try to comprehend from each other. And that was okay. Dew liked existing with this little squirrel.

Dew sat there for a while, forgetting that Anton was still walking. After a few minutes, Dew realized that he’d get shocked again if he didn’t keep following along Anton. But he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He’d never see them ever again after this.

“A-Anton,” Dew said quietly, not wanting to spook away the squirrel that had curled up against his leg. The scientist was far up ahead of him, down the trail, probably assuming Dew would be keeping up. There was no way for Anton to hear what Dew was saying. He sighed, and called out a little louder this time. “Anton!”

That got his attention. Anton turned, looking around in confusion on where Dew’s voice was coming from, until he spotted him very high up in a tree.

“What?” Anton asked.

Dew gestured to the squirrel. “I, I wanna sit here for a little bit. With, uh, with the squirrel.”

Anton stared. “You do that then!” He called.

“...Thanks!”

Dew sat up there for a long time, unable to tell if it was minutes or hours. But by the sun setting and turning the sky into bright hues of pink and orange, Dew realized that Anton had let him spend all day out there. He realized he didn’t remember the last time he watched the sunset with anyone. And now here he was, sitting on a tree branch looking over the forest, with his squirrel friend still by his side.

But he was getting hungry. Obviously, it must be around 6pm now. The days had been getting shorter as the weather got colder, but it wasn’t like that mattered in the lab.

Dew said goodbye to the squirrel once it became too dark to see it. He landed softly on the ground, and found Anton sitting in some grass under the tree.

Dew choked back a laugh. “What are those?” He asked.

“Night vision goggles?” Anton crossed his arms. “I don’t want to lose sight of you out here.”

“They look so stupid.” Dew snickered.

“Shut up,” Anton said. 

The two of them walked back towards the cabin, and Dew realized how cold it had gotten outside. Obviously, it was already autumn. Dew shivered as he walked, socks getting wet from the dewy grass.

He walked inside without a fuss, wanting to warm up. As Anton kicked his shoes off, Dew took a look around his cabin, having never actually been inside this place much before.

And before Anton could escort him to the lab, Dew spoke up. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In their room.”

“Where’s that?”

Anton pointed to a door, “Over there.”

Dew nodded awkwardly and shuffled his way towards it.

“Woah, hey!” Anton stopped him from moving. “Why are you shivering?”

“...I’m cold?”

Anton rolled his eyes and stepped around the corner. He came back with a blanket and draped it around Dew’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me you were cold. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I go see Sasha?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them spent the rest of their free day hanging out with Sasha in their enclosure. Anton had built a large enclosure, almost resembling a mini rainforest, inside one of the rooms in his cabin. It was a perfect habitat for his snake friend; their own little world to themselves. The scientist still gave Sasha free reign of the house, it was their home too, after all.

The three of them sat in a circle and talked for a bit. After a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It was peaceful, somehow. Dew felt safe.

. . .

It was getting late, and it was hard to believe that Dew had spent the entire day above the lab, without attempting any real escapes. It made Dew feel incredibly guilty, but he knew he had to wait it out. He had to gain Anton’s trust, and he had to wait for his plan.

Eventually, Anton took Dew back down the stairs. He said goodnight to Sasha, and walked down willingly. It was hard. Dew distracted himself by thinking of what’d it be like finally escaping this place, flying freely outside for real.

Soon, he thought. He’d get out of this place soon.

The lab was dark when they opened the door. As they were walking to Dew’s room, Anton spoke up.

“So, today was… fun. I suppose. I’m proud of you for not running.”

Dew’s heart sped up. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind having one day of the week as a free day. As long as you keep behaving, I don’t see why not. I prefer to just always work on my experiments, but your needs need to be met as well, since you’ll be here forever. How does every Saturday sound?”

“G-good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great.” Anton smiled. They arrived at Dew's room, and Anton opened the door for his test subject. Dew walked inside timidly, eyes downcast. He really was getting used to this routine.

“Goodnight, Dew.”

“...Night.” The lights flickered off and Anton was gone. Faint sounds of the scientist's footsteps could be heard walking through the lab and out the exit.

Dew sighed and laid down in bed. It was so quiet. Dew missed the sounds of the birds chirping, of leaves rustling in the wind. Dew missed existing in the same space with others in a way that felt safe. Dew missed flying outside. Holy shit, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite falling to the ground and getting hurt.

It was surreal, the whole day. It would almost feel like a dream. His captor had not only agreed to give him one day a week free for him to do whatever he wanted, free from experimentation and pain, but allowed him to fly outside. Sure, there was now the threat of… being electrocuted every time Dew left the area around Anton’s cabin. That was bad. But it was progress. Flying outside was something Dew had always wanted to do since he got his wings, and he did it, just like that!

The only thing that would make it better was to fly freely. He’d get there, of course, once he escapes.

Speaking of escape, Dew sat up in bed when he heard the familiar rustle of the vents above his head, signifying Sasha was there. They were a better escape artist than he was, having already found a way down here from up there. Dew supposed that made sense; snakes were escape artists in nature.

“Hey!” Sasha said, opening the latch with their tail.

“Hi,” Dew said. He grabbed his new night-light and held it up to them. “Look what Anton got me. It’s a little ghost light.”

“That’s cool. What’s a ghost?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Okay… Ghosts are spirits. Like, like the soul of a dead person, they don’t exist in the physical plane. Nobody can see or hear them, but they can haunt people. And they’re not real– obviously. I used to believe in ghosts and then… then my parents died. And uh, if ghosts were real, my parents would have probably found a way to contact me. But they’re gone. But that doesn’t matter!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hope I can get outta here before Halloween. This little ghost would be perfect for that.”

“You’ll get out in no time, Dew.”

“Yeah.” Dew turned the light on, surprising them both with the brightness of it. “And look! It’s really bright so it’ll be perfect for mapping things out up there. You might have a good sense of direction, but I don’t.”

“Good idea!”

“Let’s go, it’s kinda chilly in here.”

Dew and his escape artist friend hopped up into the vents, using his night-light to make a windy and swirly map that was somewhat beginning to make sense. Their goal was to find the quickest possible route to the surface and map out a real exit. The steps after that, well… Dew just hoped he could finally get out of this torment, mostly unscathed.

Not to mention, they now had to find a way to get that device away from Anton. Escaping the cabin is useless when Dew can’t even leave without being shocked.

But they were sure they could do it, if they kept working together. Exploring the vents had been fun with Sasha. Sometimes Dew would bring his blanket up there and they would use his night-light to tell stories. Dew was thankful to finally have someone he could trust here, to finally have a friend he could talk to.

And that filled him with more hope, knowing that he’d finally be out of here soon. He would finally talk to his friends again, and spend time with his pets. He would finally sleep in his own bed and wear his own clothes. He would do whatever he wanted. He would fly, truly free.

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more excited.

—

This is Dew’s ghost light btw

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[the-fever-dream-highs]

Hey!, can i ask for some scott bartlett writing?

where the plot is something like this: scott has a best friend who is outgoing and problematic, sometimes she gets into fights and defends scott a lot, one day she finds out about the awkward action with adrianna in the boy's room and she decides to teach him, you know

it must be counterfiet- s. bartlett

"Nights are so starry, blood moon lit. It must be counterfeit. I think there's been a glitch, ah-yeah."

ship- Scott Bartlett x fem!reader

summary- You're sitting in your room with Scott after you ended up in a fight with some guy. After, smoking some of your secret stash you guys start 'talking'. He tells you about what happened with him and Adrianna and how awkward it was. A few blatant hints come from Scott, so you offer to teach him.

content warnings- cursing / mentions of sex / drugs(weed) /mentions of violence / mentions of blood /

word count- 761 (Would Y'all like a part 2. since this is short?)

(Use of she/her pronouns and use of y/n)

Your head was throbbing, the cold rag only doing so much. The bleeding had pretty much stopped but the gash above your ear still hurt like a bitch. You laid sprawled out on your bed waiting and wanting the pain to subside. After some ill faced comments about Scott, you had lost it and started hitting the guy like usual. You just couldn't let the guy get away with it. You took it upon yourself to defend Scott.

You could feel Scott's eyes burning into you. "If you keep staring at me, I swear to god, Scotty," you said, bringing an arm to lay across your eyes. The lights were blinding and seemed to be making your head hurt more.

"You shouldn't have done that. I could've handled it..." Both of you knew that wasn't true. He began walking over to you slowly, as if you were asleep and he didn't want to scare you. Truthfully, you knew exactly where he was because of the small creeks from the floor. You also could swear you could feel the guilt and sadness radiating off of his body. "You know I hate when you do this cause you end up hurt."

Yeah, you knew. Did you care though was the real question. (No.) This was just you. You already had an ever-growing reputation around the town, but you didn't mind. To you it was fun. Let's just say you had a problem with authority but only in the way if they tried to silence and control you. Of course, there is more that has gone on to give you such a bad reputation but that's a story for another time.

"Pain is a part of life. Plus, he's a douche and he shouldn't be able to talk about people like that without consequences." You sat up, ignoring the pain that shot through your whole body. You looked up at him, guilt still covered his face. "Wanna get high?"

"I just don't understand what you see in her. She seems, I don't know, bitchy," you said. You both leaned against the headboard of your bed, smoking some blunts from your stash. The current topic was Adrianna. It wasn't like you knew personally but just from observing her from afar she just didn't seem like a girl you wanted to know. "But y'all would be cute."

Your tolerance was rather high so the blunt wasn't affecting you too much. Scott on the other hand was a different story. It wasn't like he was gone or anything, but he was just more confident and open. Not scared to speak his mind. "Did I tell you we did 'it'."

Your head whipped around to look at him, your eyes widening slightly. "Y'all had sex?! Holy shit Scotty," you exclaimed, nudging him with your shoulder.

"Only issue, it was awkward. Like more awkward than I can even," he tried to find the word, "describe. It wasn't very good honestly."

"What do you mean," you asked, taking another drag. You felt sort of bad. Sex wasn't supposed to suck or be awkward. Maybe some awkwardness after words but only if the guy was bad.

He sighed and blew some smoke out his mouth. "It was just bad. I didn't know what I was really doing. I know like the basics of it but- I don't know. I wish I had more experience, so I knew what I was doing." he turned to look at you. You couldn't even recognize the look in his eyes. Was he wanting you to show him?

“Are you?-“ You were quickly cut off.

“Yes,” he said eagerly. "But only if you want to. Sorry, this is weird. I’m sorry I should never have asked.”

“Hey,” you grabbed his face, forcing him to turn to you. The confidence from the weed was starting to wear off of him. “I will if you want. But the only thing is no invisible strings. It would have to be completely loveless, and it is to never be used against each other. Got it?” He nodded, still staring deep into your soul. “No strings?”

He thought for a moment, debating if he should pinch himself to see if this was real or not. “No strings.” He smiled at you before leaning in, placing his lips gently on yours. There was no love in the kiss. You had said no love so he would listen to you. (He had seen you how handle people not listening to you.) This would all be counterfeit. The mocking image of love. Nothing real.

a/n- Hellooooooo! Okay, firstly, would you like a part two to this? I felt really bad for leaving this in my requests, so I wanted to get something out for you. Please tell me if you want a part two because I will happily write it. Scott is so adorable and underrated and there is a minuscule amount of stuff for him. I also might come a work on fixing it cause there's parts I hate.

For this being my second one-shot ever I wanted to try writing it differently to see what I like to do!

Please leave requests of what you would like to see next!

Bye! Love you all! <3

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

... What if Walter became a vampire?

Actually, now that I think about it, that would be very bad for everyone involved. Like Mike said, the man is a time bomb and you don't want to be around for the boom.

Somehow, I can imagine Walter ends up destroying the Volturi and dooming humanity after a full season of thinking Aro is going to kill him any second.

The thing is, Walter White probably wouldn't run into the Volturi and he wouldn't really be able to conceptualize them as powerful people or people he wants to be (e.g. Gus). To him they'd be nutjobs who go around killing vampires and insist on them all being secret.

Walter agrees he shouldn't be near people as he ah tends to eat them but... well...

But to back up a bit, let's turn Walt into a vampire.

Walter White's Problems Go Sideways

We'll say that Walt has already started. He's learned he has lung cancer, he's found Jesse, he's killed Crazy Eight in his basement and had to do the cleanup, and things are not going great but meth is being made.

Then he gets eaten by a vampire.

Only, the vampire doesn't get very far because Walter and his radiated lung cancer tastes like shit (canonically, illnesses, substance abuse, etc. can seriously fuck with your taste). They scamper off, not having intended on turning cancer ridden Walter White, and Walter is left... very confused.

His skin is some strange carbon substance that under a microscope looks eeriely close to diamond. He's breaking everything he touches and uh... he ate a guy in a Walmart parking lot.

Walt desperately runs out into the desert and is terrified of going home a) looking like this b) having eaten someone. Something has gone very very very wrong with him and he doesn't think it's the cancer.

Then Walter realizes it doesn't matter.

He's dying anyway and he must provide for his family.

Walt puts on a hazmat suit he stole from a lab (as he now has no fingerprints), which helps with the um people smell that keeps driving him mad, and spends an episode bullying Jesse into helping him fake his death.

(Walter ends up eating another poor person and, not knowing what else to do, they shove the man in Walter's car then light it on fire. Walter White has now died in an awful awful car explosion.)

There's a very sad funeral that Walter attends from the shadows. Gretchen and Elliott show up, Hank gives a eulogy on how Walt was kind of a nerd, Walt hates it so much.

Jesse's asking what the fuck is going on, he's seen lung cancer and that ain't no stage he's ever heard of bitch, and Walter (who doesn't know the answer either) blows him off and tells Jesse he's stupid. They also have a lot of meth to make. Find a new Crazy Eight.

"You killed Crazy Eight," Jesse points out.

Yeah, well, let's get a new one.

So, Jesse regretfully goes to talk to Tuco. This goes poorly. Walt then has to go confront Tuco himself (which is um... bad news...) and ends up eating both Tuco and all of his people.

Walter decides not to tell Jesse this.

"I took care of Tuco" he says instead, having rescued their meth (and cash from Tuco's safe).

Jesse's impressed and a little disturbed, he has no idea how to answer this.

(Hank, meanwhile, thinks drug lords have reached a new low. Someone set their pet dog/bear/something on Tuco Salamanca and ate his entire face. Just. Wow. What a way to go. Hank is celebratory but even he's grossed out by this one.)

Well, Jesse and Walt (now always in a hazmat suit, by the way) are back to square one. They have a whole lotta meth and no one to sell it to.

Walt, slowly getting over his existential horror of being a cannibal, suggests that they sell it on the street. Jesse points out that's mad, the gangs control distribution, if they try to get in on that, massively, they are fucked.

"I can take care of it," Walter promises, having at this point tested out his new, invulnerable, ridiculously strong body.

Walter is easily able to steal them more and better supplies (moving faster than cameras can trace, leaving no prints, etc. And takes out anyone who even thinks at looking at Badger or whoever funny.

(Hank, meanwhile, is seeing a pattern of someone setting their bear loose on every one of Salamanca's men. They've got a gang war going on. Fuck.)

Gus is also noticing and keeps Gale well off the street and asks Mike to look into this.

Mike finds himself very confused. These are low level punks, local kids who dropped out of school and destroyed their lives with meth, but they're not gangsters. They clearly have no idea what they're doing and no muscle.

So who keeps killing everybody?

Unfortunately for Walter, the Volturi are also starting to take notice, as this is a lot of people dead in Albuquerque from rogue cocaine bears. Oddly focused on the human drug trade, but the signs are unmistakable. Aro sends Demetri and Felix off to deal with it.

Sure enough, they catch Walter's scent and ah...

The show's suddenly over when two cosplayers take Walter (in his hazmat suit) out in an alley.

[short-black-diamond]

Hi!! This is my first time requesting but could you please make a Wednesday x male reader angst? The reader is an outcast but also a direct descendant of his family like Goody Addams.

wait so which outcast type should I take? Oh, I know!

I ain't seein' no male witches here!!!

Okay bro, hopefully this is going to be legendary!

Wait so that I understand it. You want me to write about someone who has a connection to his greatgreatgreat-something relative, right? If yes, then I'm writing it like that! I hope I got it right. If not, I'll just write it again.

Also I think I'm trying to make this more funny than angsty but we'll see. also you are going to be russian because I said so. Also because I can speak a bit of russian. Your name is Alek Ivanovich, to keep it simple. Okay?

Here's all the foreign words:

ai = y without w, tixo = quiet, cabaka = dog, ras = on, dwa = two, tri = three, chiteri = four, pyat = five, da = yes, ya ne xatchu = I don't want to, ti krasivaya = you are beautiful (when reffering to women), dusha = soul, eto kto? = who is this?, moy drug = my friend (when referring to men), blyat = shit

again, i did not proofread

---

"I'm a witch, Addams."

"What the hell did you do to my son?!", a nameless mother shrieked. You wore a hoodie, and your hair covered your face. Your hands were in your pockets. Your parents stood behind you. You sat on a wooden, too light coloured chair and next to you sat your bully- no, your victim.

"He was simply testing my patience, sooooo....", you trailed off and did jazz hands towards the fucker who dared to approach you. The guy himself looked like a failed experiment. One eye was bigger than the other, the mouth reached form one ear to the other, hair gone, nose like Voldemort and the rest of his body...well, let's not talk about it, yeah?

Your mother surpressed a chuckle while your father only sighed deeply. The headmistress herself was also dead serious, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing any minute. You were a weak man in situations like this. situations where it felt like being at a funeral and you not being able to keep your shit together.

"Mister Ivanovich, I hope you know how serious this situation is, because of where you peop-..."

You raised your eyebrows. Ooooh, what will she sayyyy~?

"Because of your family's heritage.", the woman stated, satisfied with her answer. You snorted. Your father slapped the back of your head.

"Ai, papa!"

"Tixo!", he only hissed and you mumbled something under your breath.

"My son, Alek, might be like this because of the puberty. You know how it is, dear. Boys fight all the time and-"

"This boy is not like the others, Mrs. Ivanovich, and I hope you know it. Alek is...special in his own way.", the curly haired woman started. She took a folder with a good load of papers from a drawer and gave it to your father.

"Alek is a good student at heart. But fights like this are sadly not uncommon. And your son is always involved in this."

You could feel the steam and heat radiating from behind you to your right, where your father stood. Hopefully he won't explode today...

Your mother was also taking a look, and that's when the other woman chimed in. "But what will happen to my dear Tommy!? Who's going to turn him back?!"

You smirked. "Relax, he's going to be back to his normal self when he gets his true love's kiss. You know, like in the fairytales." The woman looked like she wanted to kill you, but before that, you couldn't hold it anymore.

"BWAHAHAHAHH, you really thought about him having to kiss somebody?! Please, it's the 21st century!", you exclaimed while you wheezed and rung for air. Sparks were already flying around your father, and your mother patted her beautifully round nose. "A-Alek, please turn this poor boy back."

You sighed. "Mama, please, I'm having fun-"

"I'LL GIVE YOU FUN! GET BACK HERE, YOU CABAKA!", your father roared and a firework errupted in the headmistress's office. You were running away from your father, the headmistress was crying for help when the office caught fire and your mother sighed tiredly.

"ras dwa tri, turn back thee. chiteri pyat shest, stop this jest!", she mumbled, and everything got back to its original place. You got dragged back to your seat, your bully was back to his own self and ran away with his mom, and the office wasn't burning anymore.

The only thing which was not alright was your dad. He was still fuming. "What I wanted to say...", the woman sat down on her chair again after she examined her precious kabinett,

"was that Alek might be better off in another school. Nevermore, to be exact. There are people like him-"

"You mean outcasts?", you frowned. You had your fun, now you were serious.

"Alek...", your mother said and squeezed your left shoulder.

The woman behind the desk coughed to hide her embarrassment before continuing. "If you put it that way...then yes. And I'm sorry for you, Alek. You are one of the best students this little itty-bitty school has ever had. It's a shame that your peers like to poke at you."

"Evermore...wasn't it where we have met the Addams?", your father spoke suddenly, and you flinched.

"Oh my, da! We have to contact them! How long has it actually been since we last saw them? At your graduation?", your mother spoke and all of a sudden, everybody's mood lifted, yours excluded.

Wait, new school? What school? I hope it's not a boarding-

"And for your information, it's a boarding school.", the woman sitting in front of you said.

Why did I jinx myself?!?!?

---

"Papa, ya ne xatchu." "I don't care. Get in the car."

And right after you sat down, your father began speaking. "Why do you always have to make a mess, son?! Wherever we go, you use your magic to curse somebody! Stop it!"

"...yes.", you answered with a grumble.

"And that boy- what did he do to you?!"

"He was making fun of me.", but it was only half the truth.

"But you're still not allowed to use your magic, Alek!"

"He was pushing me to it!"

"What could he have done to make you use your magic?", your mother's calm voice called. You could clearly hear her sadness.

Your mother was a beautiful woman, who never failed to make friends in places she's never been before. She always managed to help you whenever you struggled with something.

And now, you felt like crying. you wanted her to hold you, but she was sitting next to your father and you were sitting alone on the other side.

"He...was making fun of us witches, of all the other outcasts or monsters- he was making fun of us unhumans!"

The ride was silent and suffocating then. your mother was stroking her round nose again, which you loved, but you got your father's boring straight nose.

"there was also another thing....", you began as you recalled being in a fever-, or lucid- like dream. You somehow got in contact with a person you admired. Dima Ivanovich.

He was the greatest witch you've ever found out about, and you dedicated your life to that man. He might have been a jerk, a klutz and always in for dangerous activities, but he also risked his life for defending his family, he treated his wife with the upmost respect and he tried his best to make life easier for the next generations.

"I got in contact with Dima Ivanovich."

Your mother's breath hitched and your father glared at you. "He told me to act. I would've kept my head down, but he lifted it. He also lifted my hands. I could feel his presence, papa! You should have-"

"ENOUGH WITH THIS SHIT! I HAVE TRIED FOR YEARS AND YOU WANT TO TELL ME THAT HE JUST CAME TO YOU FOR YOU TO STAND UP TO YOUR BULLIES?! PAH!"

Was...was he for real?

"Sorry that he helped a relative in need of pretection and defense instead of money problems."

"What did you just say-"

"Seriosha, Alek, enough already!"

You hated when your mother yelled. "Dima had a good reason to step in and protect our poor son!"

He only looked out of the window.

"...Sooo, tell me about Nevermore. Or the people you met there.", you asked after a few minutes in hopes of getting at least some of the nonexistent background information you had about your parents. And to make the ride less boring and long.

Again, to your surprise, your father answered. Normally, it would have been your mother, with your dad nodding along, but oh well. "Nevermore is a magical place. Back in the days when I was your age, I was the sporty guy. We played football, exercised and sharpened our skills, and also had many events. Your mother and her best friend at the time, Morticia Addams, these two were the fencing captains."

"Oh, how I'd love to meet her again! I'm sure she'd be just as beautiful as she was when she was a teenager!", your mother gasped, and smiled.

"But mom, you are the most beautiful here!", you spoke, but she just shook her wavy locks. "No, no, son. I am not pretty. Just look at my nose, or my skin! I look like my own mother!"

"First of all, ti krasivaya. Second, baba yaga is also pretty. Otherwise, dad wouldn't have married you, would he?"

And also this time, your father said something. "I don't know why you are still so insecure. You are the most beautiful witch, the most beautiful woman and the most wonderful dusha I have ever met."

"Aww, Seriosha...that was good to hear."

"Yes papa, you should speak to her more often like that! and also teach me the art of flirting!"

For the first time this week, your father laughed. And it was saturday. You were proud of yourself.

---

"Sooo...this is it? Looks old in my opinion.", you said as soon as you stepped out of the car and stretched. Your mother was looking around and then she screamed. You and your father were ready to throw hands and cast spells left and right when all that happened was your mother running towards a woman with long dark hair in a tight black dress. The other woman was also screaming.

Why are women always yelling when they see a familiar face??

"Papa, eto kto?"

"Morticia Adda- GOMEZ, moy drug! Idi suda!", your father yelled and nearly floated towards a middle aged man who could loose some pounds.

Welp, guess it's just me then-

And there, you saw a girl step out of the -like your father's- old fashioned, black vehicle. Your dad's car was a dark wine red.

She had twin tailed, braided heir, and she was also not that thrilled to be here. She also watched the interaction, but with more disgust than curiousity. Both of your dad's were now dancing with each other, each in their traditional way.

Make a friend...

So, you strutted to her, but stayed a little more than five feet away from you. You didn't reach out your hand, for she didn't look like she'd like to even acknowledge you.

"My name is Alek Ivanovich. I guess our parents knew each other very well back in the day. what's your name?"

"My name is Wednesday Addams."

"Cool. Why are you here?"

"Attempted murder."

"what?"

"What, you don't-"

"You didn't get the job done? Tsk, tsk, tsk."

And now, the girl gave you her attention. "Excuse me? Then why are you here?"

"I was experimenting with my bullies. Say, why did you "attempt" to murder somebody?"

'Did you say 'attempt' with a special undertone just now? Are you making fun of me?', she thought and her brows furrowed a little.

"They were messing with my little brother."

"Ah yes, nothing's more important than family. but why kill? Didn't you want to make them suffer a little?"

"I put two bags, each filled with a number of piranhas into the pool they were swimming at the time. Not enough, but still good when in school."

"Nah, I would've...I dunno, maybe cursed them that they'd have constant constipation...or, uh...turn them into unsightly things, like I did with my last victim..."

As you were deep in thought, Wednesday studied you. You were not like the other kids. You didn't give her a freaked out expression.

'You...are you trying to start a competition?' With the way you were making ideas on how she could've done it better, she felt a sharp pain in her pride.

But why did she feel like this? Why did she feel like she'd have to better her antics? Just because she spoke to someone who maybe understood her?

"What are you, Ivanovich?"

"I'm a witch, Addams."

---

The get-to-know with principal Weems, a tall and very---suspiscious looking woman, you and Wednesday had to part ways.

"Wait, can I get your phone number?" "I don't use phones."

"Aw, blyat. Then what do you use for communication?"

"My cristall ball." Ah-you remembered. Her mom gave her a suitcase with it inside. No, you didn't take a peek when she opened it.

"I have one too! Although it's so small that I can fit it into my pant pockets."

You relished the moment her eye twitched when you said pant pocket. She could only hope that her blazer and skirt had pockets.

But instead, she asked another question. "How did you make it so small?", and her eyes were a little big. You huffed.

"Magic. Bet you wish you could do it as well."

"Curse you."

"I did, and now I'm here."

---

"Ivanovich."

"Hah? Oh, Addams, what's up?"

"Hide me."

"What-"

"Wednesday! Come here!", Enid, Wednesday's roommate called and you could hear her squeaking sneakers in the hallway.

And with using your magic, you turned the girl behind you invisible. Enid arrived right after Wednesday was turned transparent.

"Do you need something from her?", you asked politely. Enid gave you bombastic side eye as she looked around.

Maybe it's her first time seeing a witch?

"Uh, no. It's just, Wednesday had removed the coloured stickers from her side of the room. Which I put on!"

"When it's her side of the room, then she can do whatever she wants. And you should know by now that she doesn't really like colours."

"Still, she should've asked me first! I could use them for something else, you know?"

"Yeah, understandable."

"Anyways, have you seen her?"

"I can sense her soul near us, but I cannot see her, Sinclair."

"Why do you have to talk like that."

"Because we are not a body but a soul. We have a body. We are souls living in bodies."

"...o...kay...? I...I'll look somewhere else.", and with that, she dissappeared.

Wednesday started speaking. "How long will this spell last?"

You could see her again. "When the affacted person starts speaking."

She stared at you for a long time and you surpressed a chuckle.

"There's something I wanted to ask you, Wednesday. Did you also get the feeling that Enid doesn't really like me? For whatever reason?"

"She doesn't like witches because she got dumped by one. I wonder why."

"Welp, sucks when she hasn't even fully become a real werewolf. Also did you pull those stickers away because you really didn't like it or because you wanted to spite her?"

"Both."

"Haha."

---

(2.1k) "Weems said you'd be stopping by. So, what are you guys? Alto, soprano, or just loco?", Bianca said after you and Wednesday went to her choir group to maybe join.

The other kids giggled while you sighed out of your nose.

The person by the nearby piano which you noticed only now pressed a button and a tone was heard. Wednesday opened her mouth.

You heard nothing except some glass breaking.

"What was that?", Bianca asked.

"A tone only cabaki can hear, cool!", you complimented.

Wednesday allowed her mouth to lift 0.01 %.

"...and...and you, Ivanovich, what about you?"

At the siren's question, you started to sing Polina Gagarina's "Lullaby". Your voice fitted the song perfectly and you loved singing it.

After you were done, the students one by one started clapping, and in the end, everyone clapped. You were bashful, to say the least. Too bad Bianca was not having it.

"So you're one hell of a singer. Did you use some of your witch powers for that?"

Instead of wanting to punch her, you decided to bite back. "I could say the same to your 'Siren'-voice."

"Why, you little-"

"What happened here? I heard glass breaking, and then a beautiful singing voice!", Weems interrupted and you smirked at the short haired girl.

"Nothing,", she only hissed.

---

"Woah, these are some cool powers, Xavier!"

"Thanks man!"

"You guys are too loud."

"Oi, I'm just complimenting him-wanna be friends?"

"Sure, why not?"

Whoah, Xavier might be the second teenager in this school who actually respected you, the first one being Wednesday.

Wednesday was drawing what could be identified as a gilloutine, with Enid's head poking through the hole. The blade was halfway through and blood spurted out of Enid's neck. Enid herself had a terrifying expression.

If the real Enid saw this...

"Uh, n-nice work!" "You don't have to compliment me on everything, Ivanovich."

"Uh, okay!"

"How do you two know each other?"

"Our parents." "To be more detailed, our parents actually were friends and also attending this exact boarding school. And, well, they seemed to be pretty good friends. But I still don't understand this whole hyde thing, and one of our students being dead and then reappearing as if nothing happened."

That gave Xavier and Wednesday a little time to think, while you thought that you messed up the mood. again.

"Sorry for ruining the mood..."

"What? No, What you said was actually something to think over. Wednesday was there when the guy died, but him being there the day after? either someone's trying to mess with your head, or the person doesn't like you.", the artist said.

Wednesday only had another unreadable expression on her face.

"Um...can I take a picture?"

"What?"

"Of your painting- Oh! Y-yours as well, if you're okay with it, Xavier!"

"Sure thing man."

"But Enid's getting killed."

"I like the strong colours-"

"It's mostly red-"

"And the way you could draw her face in detail is so pretty-"

"She's literally screaming in agony while she's getting beheaded-"

"I don't care, Wednesday. I like your work. Now can I take a pic or not?"

"...are you okay?"

"Are you?"

"Heheh.", Xavier chuckled while Wednesday only looked at you again.

___

Hey, how was that love? I wanted to make this longer because...I dunno. I just thought this could be nice to start with a sweet beginning and then the story getting darker, you know?

I will for sure do a second part!

Anyways, please write how that was and pls explain it to me again, but in more detail because I'm stupid :p

Read you in the next post!

[ravennaortiz]

Chapter 14 of the Juice and OC Stormie Rayne story.

Warnings: As always this is an 18+ story. General themes of the show such as violence, drugs, swearing, smut etc. Mention of child abuse, domestic violence, sexual assault/harassment are in some chapters.

Tag List @danzer8705

*A Couple days later*

"Okay kids. " stated Half-Sack as he stood up from his chair once Stormie had returned from putting Isabella to bed. "I'm going to my room for the night. If you need me you know where to find me. I will see you both in the morning" he added before disappearing down the hall. Leaving Stormie and Juice to the living room.

"Sor-" started Stormie as she sat back next to Juice as he took her hand.

"No" stated Juice with a smile as he cut her off. "What have I told you? Do not apologize for needing to be a mom. Isabella comes first and I wouldn't have it any other way". He stated as he squeezed her hand as she watched him.

"Thank you. You're sure its not too weird for you to stay here?" questioned Stormie. Originally she had planned to stay the night at his place but Isabella had gotten super upset when she went to leave. Stormie had been near tears herself as she comforted her daughter when Half-Sack had suggested Juice stay.

"Not weird at all. I just wanted to spend time with you and I can do that anywhere" replied Juice with a shrug and a reassuring smile. "Is it weird for you?" he questioned making her laugh softly.

"A relationship in general is weird for me. I feel so silly because so many things are the first to me. Like first time holding hands, first time actually wanting to be kissed, first time wanting to stay the night with a guy." replied Stormie as she shook her head letting her hair fall around her face. "Like I have all this "experience" with guys but at the same time I feel so inadequate" she added using her fingers to make air quotes.

"Consent makes a hell of a difference Storm. As well as wanting someone to kiss you, touch you and such." replied Juice frowning at her words. "You have never and will never be inadequate to me" he added as he moved closer to her on the couch.

Stormie was silent for a few moments as she considered his words. "Can I tell you something, well two things? I think they may be deal breakers" stated Stormie quietly.

"I doubt they will be." replied Juice softly as he watched her take a deep breath.

"I have never enjoyed anything sex related. It was always something forced on me or work. A way to keep Isabella fed and a roof over her head. If I'm being honest it scares me and the idea of it does as well." confessed Stormie her body radiating tension as she waited for his response.

"That is all fair and not a deal breaker for me. We can work through it and go slow. You tell me what you want and need and I'll do it. " replied Juice as he gently lifted her face to meet his gaze. "I promise I won't force you into anything or hurt you".

Stormie nodded as she brought her hand up to hold his as he cupped her cheek carefully wiping away the tears that had started to fall.

"Other thing is...I know I'm jumping way ahead....but I don't think I want more kids. Stormie swallowed hard as she closed her eyes. "It was really traumatic...obviously.... to go through it with Isabella and I don't think I can mentally do that again." she stated keeping her eyes closed shut tightly as she tried not to linger on the memories.

"Reasonable and again not a deal breaker for me." replied Juice as he pulled her into a hug. "I hate to say it but your stuck with me for life" he joked after a few minutes smiling as he heard and felt her laugh into his chest.

"Darn. Stuck with you for life? I thought I was the one jumping ahead" teased Stormie as she moved to look up at him.

"Your such a brat" laughed Juice as she grinned at him and shrugged.

The two lay on the couch watching TV until Stormie drifted off to sleep a couple hours later.

"Storm" murmured Juice as he gently caressed her cheek where her head lay in his lap. "Hmm" replied Stormie not opening her eyes. "You fell asleep, probably should get in your bed so your neck doesn't hurt" replied Juice as he tried to lift her up into a sitting position.

"Carry me?" asked Stormie as she opened one eye and grinned at him. Juice simply laughed before wrapping his arms raound her and standing up before moving down the hall. "I feel like this is illegal " he whispered as they passed by Half-Sacks door.

"Here you go my lady" stated Juice as he sat her down on her bed before moving to go back to the living room to go to sleep himself. "Where are you going?" inquired Stormie as she slipped under the covers watching him.

"I planned on sleeping on the couch" replied Juice as he gestured back out the door.

"I want you to sleep in here" replied Stormie as she patted the space beside her and shot him a soft smile.

Juice nodded before flipping the light off and slipping under the covers next to her. "Night Juice" whispered Stormie as she snuggled into his side with her head resting on his chest. Juice smiled as he put his arm around her. "Night Storm".

Return to Chapter List

[hannahwatcheshorror]

28 DAYS LATER (2002)

💁‍♀️💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead(s)

While over 20 years old now, the effects hold up very well as does the story. I would like to find flaws and say that people wouldn’t be so stupid as to spread the virus in the first place, or that people would never be so cruel to one another in hard times, but after having gone through a pandemic… This movie does an excellent job showing what happens during a public health crisis. I’ve only just seen the film but I know it's worth watching again for details I missed the first time.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The filmmakers had no idea about COVID-19 when they made this movie in 2002 but I can’t help but compare the two events and shudder. The Rage sickness did NOT have to be spread. The science man told them pretty explicitly that if they set the chimps loose, everyone will start dying immediately, and what happened? Exactly. It only took 28 days for Rage to ravage London and for poor lil' Cillian Murphy to wake up all alone in the buff (though I appreciate some male nudity with these mostly female nudity heavy movies, thanks Cill). He finds his world very empty save for some very wild folk who really want a bite out of him (but I mean, who doesn’t). He teams up with a guy and a girl but lights a candle so he can be alone with the girl. Then he and Selena (the girl) find a Daddy-Daughter duo and the daughter’s name is Hannah so she has some big shoes to fill (but I digress). 

They pick up an emergency broadcast telling them to go to a promised land and Hannah is the deciding vote (get it, girl). They go through a tunnel and Papa Frank guns it which is scary and fun but it pops a tire. Hannah to the rescue! Everyone lifts the car while reminding Hannah to hurry (she knows) as she puts on a spare. This was very stressful because I really want Hannah to survive this movie (figures). Next, Hakuna Matata because they go apocalypse grocery shopping (and Daddy Frank is pleased to see the Granny Smiths are going strong because of radiation). Picnicking and having a campout somewhere green and with wild horses, you almost forget about the terrifying, red-eyed, infected. Almost.

They make it to the promised land but there is no one there so Father Frank kicks something out of frustration and gets a drop of virus blood in his eye and THEN the army fuckers pop up out of nowhere to kill him. I am ANGRY and sad for Hannah (and Cillian who mistook Frank for his father earlier). All those left are trucked back to the army headquarters. Things start to feel a little off, and then the head honcho tells dear Mr. Murphy that he promised his hard working soldiers women. Yeah, it’s only been a month but they were all ready to off themselves over the idea of not getting laid again, but being able to take advantage of a woman? Now that sounds like a fine idea to these freaks! Obviously, Cillian, Selena, and Hannah are NOT on board for this but they are outnumbered and so the non-dominant male is exiled.

Cillian doesn’t take well to this so becomes a super stealthy boy suddenly even though in his life before all this he was a delivery driver. He lures Best Boy out into the woods and then doubles back to the clubhouse to rescue Selena and Hannah, taking out one of the baddies on the way. At this point the girls are very scared which is fair because they’ve been made to change into different clothing in front of the men (bright red dresses specifically). Selena gives Hannah some drugs so she won’t have to endure the full effects of the evening but this sort of backfires when the young lady isn’t taking the zombie in their midst very seriously! By the time Cillian comes in and takes care of the guy grabbing up on his woman, Selena thinks he might have The Rage (TM), but he still has his big, old, baby blues. Blonde bitch boy tries to ruin things but Hannah tells him no and feeds him to his pet zombie. Finally, they are in a little house and like a little family, and they sew and make a big “HELLO” for planes overhead to see (but they are pretty sure all of Europe is in lockdown so they are gonna be stuck there a while).

The “what if” alternative ending is just the most realistic ending if Murph-dawg really got shot point blank in the torso during the apocalypse. Homeboy dies. Sorry. The “Radical Alternative Ending” was just as it said, radical. They had an idea that perhaps the cure could be a full body blood transfusion but realized that this couldn’t work in the world they created where a single drop of blood in the eye could infect you in 20 seconds. Cillian ends up dead but Frank lives in the radical scenario. It was fascinating to see them storyboarding.

[chasseurdeloup]

Fangs for the Help || Kit and Kaden

TIMING: Early May LOCATION: Driftwood Diner PARTIES: @kitwithfangs and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kit finds themself wandering into a diner and sitting next to a grumpy, tired hunter. They chat and it's totally fine and no one gets hurt. [AKA: “I know what you are.” “Say it.”] CONTENT WARNINGS: reference to past drug abuse

Look, no one tell Matty if you saw him, but Kit wasn’t having the easiest time adjusting to all that being a vampire was. It was easier when they were a spawn because it was just a freefall into bloodlust, giving over and giving in to absolute hunger. But they can’t do that now, and they don’t want to either. Their stomach still rolled over when they thought of how they ate, what they ate. And, more than anything, what it meant that they ate like that. They had killed people and that was something they were going to have to square with.

Doing normal, human things helped in some small way, though. Listening to records and learning their way around the internet and hell, man, just wearing clothes again was a riot. And after decades of mostly crypts and basements, being outside in the open air was a treasure. The house in the woods was secluded enough that Kit could go wandering without venturing near people. Probably not the best idea, Matty thought, them going around people on their own just yet. And Kit agreed, for the record.

Like, they hadn’t meant to go into town. But once they were, it was already midnight so there weren’t all that many people around anyway. So what was the harm in exploring the city a little bit? 

Heading into the 24-hour diner, though, that was all their fault. It just reminded Kit so much of the places they would stop on those first tours: run down roadside joints that had never passed a health inspection. Pushing in, they headed for the counter and took a seat, nostalgic grin loose on their face. Another great thing about places like this? No one would question why you were wearing shades at midnight.

There weren’t all that many other patrons in the place, a guy one stool down, a group of college-aged kids in a far booth, and a couple who seemed to have decided this was the place and time for a romantic dinner date. Which, you know, more power to them. When the waitress stopped at Kit, they asked for just a coffee. They were more interested in the ambiance than eating. Not like they needed to eat food anymore, anyway.

—-

Kaden didn’t know what the hell time it was other than too fucking late to be awake. If he was going to keep hunting the “rabid dog” spotted downtown, he was going to need some sustenance. Instead, he’d have to settle for diner food and what they pretended was coffee. It was better than nothing. At least, that’s what he was telling himself as he rested his head in his hands, elbows leaning against the counter. 

The squeak of the seat next to him jolted him awake. “Putain.” He hadn’t even realized he’d drifted off. He looked over to see someone had sat one stool down from him. A suggestion of a nod was all he managed before sinking back into his position against the counter. 

“What do you want?” the waitress asked, causing him to jump again. Goddamn. It was clear from her tone that she was the only one working at the moment and she didn’t have time to waste with chit chat or indecision. He appreciated it.

“Coffee,” he said with a grumble.

“Anything else?” she asked, tapping her pen on her pad of paper.

Fuck, he hadn’t thought that far. “Eggs.”

“What kind?”

Putain de merde, this was too many questions for this time of night. He was starting to appreciate her abruptness a little less now. “The egg kind,” he said, rubbing his hands down his face. He didn’t have to look at the waitress or wait for her to say anything to feel the waves of frustration radiating from her. “I don’t fucking know, surprise me.”

“Scrambled it is,” she said, whisking away to get the coffees for him and the person who sat next to him, practically throwing the mugs across the counter at them when she did. 

It took him a few seconds to pull himself upright enough to grab the coffee and a few more to piece together the fragments floating in his mind desperately trying to create a thought. “No cream and sugar, I guess,” he said, loud enough for the waitress to hear. Promptly, a few packets of sugar and small single cups of half and half were chucked at his head. “Fucking hell,” he said as he scrambled to catch them before they bounced off to the table behind him. “Thanks,” he mumbled back.

—-

It’d be a lie to say that Kit hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation of the man next to her. That’s why you came to diners at ass o’clock at night: people-watching and eavesdropping. Once he had finished putting his order in, Kit leaned a few inches toward him. “I dunno that asking for a surprise from a place like this is the best idea, yanno?” Never knew what you might end up getting and what it might end up doing to your gastrointestinal system. And this guy looked rough enough as it was, clearly not having the best night. Kit tilted their shades down so they could meet his eyes and offer a smile.

In the next minute, Kit was getting their coffee practically thrown at them and they had to stifle a laugh. They loved joints like this, servers like her. This waitress had clearly used up all her shits years ago, maybe decades, and had none left to give. And when she launched the sugar and cream at the guy next to them? Kit couldn’t hold in their laughter any longer. “Sorry, dude,” they offered, putting their grin behind the mug and taking their first sip. The coffee was terrible and perfect – even with their muted sense of taste. “That was just pretty hilarious. Maybe you oughta start drinking yours black. Less chance of, like, being blinded by a condiment projectile.”

They swiveled on their stool, facing out at the rest of the diner. Another couple wandered in, shady as all hell with trench coats and hats. Kit got distracted by the whiff of sea breeze through the open door, though. It was nothing like the ocean they remembered – more like low tide than the sparkling Pacific or their home and native Atlantic. But it was salty and sharp and hit them at the back of the throat. How long had it been since they had been swimming? They couldn’t do like they used to and spend full days on the beach anymore —which, what a fucking bummer. But maybe they could find some place suitable for a little night swimming. 

—

Kaden grumbled. “Nothing here is going to have any nutritional value so it might as well be a surprise. It’ll all be mostly grease and butter so what does it matter?” At some point, his taste buds would probably adjust to American cooking and cuisine. Maybe things would taste better than. He sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

No. He’d never adjust to any of this. Honestly, he was a little bit okay with that fact. 

He wanted to be annoyed at the laughter coming from two seats down but he couldn’t find it in himself; there was no pushing past the exhaustion. That and he couldn’t exactly argue that it was probably a fucking sight from the other side. “Glad I could be some late night entertainment,” he said as he peeled off the lid on the half and half packet, pouring it into his “coffee.” It helped the taste, at least. Not by much but it was something. “What’s got you so chipper this late at night, anyway?” he asked, finally looking over at them. Leather jacket, sunglasses at night. Yeah, seemed like this was their sort of place from the looks of it. Couldn’t say why, just the sort of impression he got. 

—

Kit laughed again at the man’s grumbling, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds about right. This is my first time at this particular establishment but. You’ve been to one, you’ve been to ‘em all, ya know?” They should have just left the man alone at that. He was clearly exhausted and in no mood for their frivolity. Probably coming off a long shift or something worse. But at the end of the day, he reminded them of Drew – except that Drew was eighty now and had arthritis. He did still complain like he always had, though, like this man seemed to be partial too.

“Hey, dinner and a show,” Kit said with a shrug. And then, amending, “Or, at least, coffee and theater.” At the question, they hummed in thought. They couldn’t very well tell him that it was because they had been living as a sort of half-beast for the past near-half-decade and this was the first time they had been out and about as something close to human so just sitting at a shitty diner like this one was a goddamn thrill. Yeah, couldn’t lay that truth out on the table. So instead they just took another long sip of their coffee and said, “Love places like this one. Just moved into town and I’m glad to see that even a weirdo seaside Maine village has something of the genre.”

Kit flipped their sunglasses up—they weren’t even the slightest bit hungry so they weren’t worried about that whole red eye business— and settled them into their curls. “So. Why are you so decidedly unchipper? End of a long shift, is my guess.”

—

“Yeah, I guess,” Kaden replied. “Can’t say I’ve been to many of these. Not really from here. I’m sure you couldn’t tell.” He was well aware that his accent wasn’t the most subtle, even if he didn’t think it was that obvious. He was questioned about it enough to know that denial wasn’t worth it. 

“You love places like this?” he repeated, raising a brow as he did. “What’s the appeal you’re seeing that I’m clearly missing?” There had to be something. Beyond the fact that it was open at the moment. That was currently the only redeeming quality in his eyes at the moment. This was hardly five star dining. Maybe, maybe there was some charm to find here but it wasn’t his first choice regardless. “Only been here a few months, too. I’m almost afraid to ask what brought you here, given the kind of town it is.” 

He looked over to his apparent dinner company at their question. Had to say, he didn’t expect to have a lot of conversation tonight. It wasn’t annoying him, though. Yet. Guess it was nice enough. Kept him awake at least. “Yeah, late night shift, I guess you could call it. I work in animal control. One of those great late night cases. Always a favorite.” He gulped down what he could of his coffee, hoping that if he just drank it fast enough, he could ignore the taste and reap the benefits sooner. 

—

“You came here by way of France? Or Montreal?” Kit would bet it was the former. Canada’s culture wasn’t all that much different from the States, or at least, not enough to make someone feel like an outsider in a diner. Kit had fond memories of France (of Canada too, really). “That’s a pretty big move.” They imagined it wasn’t too long ago, gauging by how much his accent was still lingering.

“Yeah, man! Love a divey spot.” They laughed and had to shrug. “All right, maybe it’s not so much the place itself but the nostalgia it serves. Spent a lot of time on the road and there was always some 24-hour, roadside diner like this one.” Good for a stop when it was time for any meal, or ducking in after a show for 2 AM milkshakes and disco fries. Drew half-asleep against the window, Dan and Matty stealing fries and onion rings from each other, and Kit just soaking it all up. Their head cocked at his next statement. “Yeah, funky little town, isn’t it?” So far, though, Kit found themself enjoying the place. Even if a large portion of her experiences were either through the internet or just walking the woods at night. “I…came with a friend,” they offered, uncertain of how exactly to explain it. “I was sick for a while. Figured a place like this might be good for some rest and relaxation.” Hopefully that seemed believable enough.  

Kit straightened at the mention of animal control. Did that extend to…what they had been? Late night case. That’s what they could have been, without Matty looking out. They dipped their chin as if studying their cup of coffee. “Sounds like a bummer,” they offered. “Hey, hope you get off soon, can get to bed.”

—

“France.” Kaden’s tone was almost like he was disgusted. The mere suggestion he was from Canada was offensive. Just because they wanted to be French up there in Quebec didn’t mean they were. Right. This person didn’t care. Most people didn’t. He sighed and nodded back at them. “Yeah I have family in town and moved in with them a few months ago. Otherwise Wicked’s Rest probably wouldn’t be my first pick.” Kaden hadn’t given too much thought to where he was going to go after the incident with his sister. His only plan was “away.” Andy just happened to be the first option he thought of. Had to wonder where he’d be now if he hadn’t gotten that postcard. 

Kaden gave a small, groggy nod back at them. “Guess that makes sense. Nostalgia’s probably the only thing that could win me over. If anything.” He still wasn’t sure if even that would be enough. His life had been strings of good enough and quick meals. He couldn’t say he ever longed for stops like this one. It was too fucking sad to sit and think about all the bullshit reasons why he was so familiar with this sort of crap. “What had you on the road so much, if you don’t mind me asking?” For whatever reason, Kaden always had to check and see if the other person was like him, a hunter, as soon as any small possibility was offered up. Especially in this town. 

“This town? Relaxing? Your friend might have been mistaken there.” Kaden couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, glad you’re doing better, though.” He wasn’t going to pry beyond that. It sounded like something serious and he didn’t want to get tangled up with that. Not in a fucking diner in the middle of the night.

He noticed something in their demeanor shifted when he mentioned what he did. Putain, was this one of those people who thought animal control were puppy killers or some shit like that? He hoped not. He hated trying to explain it. Maybe they didn’t like cops? He couldn’t disagree there. The fact that he was on the WRPD force was the biggest downside to his job, he had to admit. “Yeah, we’ll see. The fucking rai–” Putain, almost called the monster what it was in fucking public. He was too tired for this. “The coyote running around in town has been hard to pin down. So hopefully I ki–” He coughed to hide the second near slip. “Catch him sooner rather than later.” 

—

Wasn’t that a line. Kit was already tempted to rip it for lyrics. Nostalgia’s the only thing that could win me over. Saying that sort of thing usually came with some tragic happening in the not-so-distant past. Not the kind of thing you’d up and share with some stranger in a greasy spoon, though, so Kit let it lie. “Music,” Kit answered, a grin air-dropping onto their face. “I was in a band and in those early years when we were on the road, it was always stops like this place.” Cheap, mostly. 

A hand up through their hair, Kit laughed with their new friend. “Yeah,” they drawled. “You’re not wrong.”Of course it was exactly that weirdness of Wicked’s Rest that had pulled Matty toward it in the first place. Hoping something in the leylines or whatever made it so freaky would mean an answer to the forty-year’s question. And hey! He had been right on that. “But we’re digging it, mostly, so far.” Well, Kit was pretty sure Matty wasn’t actually but that was a problem for another party. 

Was that coyote he was after actually a coyote? There were other spawn, lurking in the cemetery their crypt had been in. (Their crypt, as if they owned it or something, as if it had been a home). A town like this, maybe someone in animal control knew the score of things. Knew how to manage against what they had been. Kit wasn’t sure how to feel about that. They didn’t want some poor human to get mauled and die but. They couldn’t wish that on their…what? Kin? Was there any kinship left between Kit and the other spawn that might be wandering around? Were they all like them, higher-mind caught up in the net of hunger and rage and instinct, desperate to come back to life if they only even knew they were missing it?

A shatter and a curse, harsh and loud, from the other side of the counter interrupted Kit’s thoughts. Their waitress swore again and then Kit didn’t really hear anything. The world narrowed to the bass-deep, copper smell of blood. Human blood too, the scent winding its way against their hard palate. Kit had more or less been daydreaming in most of their biology classes so they couldn’t tell you what exact distinct differences there were between the blood of a chicken and a pig and a human. But whatever they were now seemed to know inherently, instinctually. 

Kit whirled on the stool and there was their waitress, the remains of a shattered coffee pot on the floor and her very bloody hand, held up. They weren’t too adept at the way this whole thing went, but they could tell that their fangs were out and their eyes were as red as the blood their waitress was trying to mop up with a clump of napkins. Some kind of rumble tearing up through their chest, their hands spread on the counter like they’re about to launch themself over it. Maybe they are.

—

Music? Ah, that made it all make sense. “I’d ask if it was any good but I’ve been told by my cousin that I have terrible taste in music,” Kaden said offering a half smile. “So I wouldn’t know either way.” He didn’t listen to a whole lot on his own and when he did, he mostly stuck to the records that had been his dad’s. Mostly 70’s of varying quality which Alex didn’t let him forget.

The coffee wasn’t doing enough to keep Kaden’s lids from falling closed. He had his head propped up by his elbow on the table, but he kept finding his balance wavering. Putain, he didn’t want to take a nap on the counter of a goddamn diner, but it might happen whether he wanted it to or not.

The shattering glass sent a shock through his system, jolting him awake. The hunter glanced around to find the source of the mishap. It was easy enough to find, it was right in front of him, but that wasn’t what caught his eye. A blur or motion flashed in his peripheral vision and Kaden turned to see what was going on. 

He half expected to see his late night chat buddy jumping up to offer the waitress some sort of assistance (they seemed like the type). Instead, they were leaning over the counter, coiled and ready to pounce, like a panther stalking its prey. What the hell was going on?

He saw their eyes first: bloodshot red. Then the fangs. “Merde.” It was then he connected the dots. The blood on the waitress’s hand. The feral stance of his present companion beside him. Without another thought, Kaden threw himself at them and grappled them. He didn’t have a plan, not a real one anyway, but if he could just keep them pinned down for the time being, he was sure he could come up with something.

—

One second Kit was pinhole-focused on the waitress and her blood and the next their world was wheeling. They barely had time to register that they were falling before they slammed into the ground, someone’s full weight against them. And, oh, it was their conversation buddy. But Kit mostly just saw the pump of his pulse moving through his carotid artery. It was faster than your average sitting pulse and that just meant more blood, God, they could smell it. From the waitress across the counter and from inside of the man hauling over them and it was all so much.

They hadn’t even been hungry when they left the house. Not really. Except in the way that they were always hungry. The way that lukewarm chicken and pig never seemed to slake their thirst. The promise of fresh blood on the air, though, set them off wildly. Fresh and warm and still pumping from a living heart. Kit could remember, in their hindbrain, what it had felt like. What it had tasted like, to rip into a throat with a heart still beating. Hot viscera and marrow sliding down their throat and Matty petting their hair, telling them it was okay, they were okay, to just eat their fill. 

But they weren’t that, anymore. They weren’t that thing, that animal that they had been and Matty knew it. Matty was keeping them off the human blood, and they were going to do good. For him, if nothing else. 

Their red eyes found the other man’s over them, begging. “Don’t let me go,” they said through an aching throat, words slurring against fangs. He was strong enough to throw them to the ground, they only hoped he was strong enough to keep them there. “Please, don’t let me go.” Even as they asked that of him, something in them fought, tried to get to the meal behind the counter, instinctually. Their body calling out for the blood.

—

As their two bodies slammed onto the floor, Kaden realized how fucking stupid his plan was. He was no fucking slayer, he could still be turned, and beyond that, he could be drained dry – hunter or not, didn’t matter, he was still human which was all that would matter in the end. He was aware of how close their fangs were to his neck. He could feel his own pulse pounding in his ears now that the danger had settled in. If he were someone else, he would have run. Instead, his unshakable training kept him there on the ground, arms wrapped around them, holding them in place. 

He could feel them trying to break free, to launch themselves at the blood flowing freely behind the counter. Putain de merde, he almost forgot about the waitress, how injured she was. “Someone help behind the counter!” he shouted to whoever the fuck would listen. The sooner she got patched up the better. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold back a feral vampire from their prey. 

Kaden’s eyes darted around, trying to spot anything wooden within reach. He didn’t want to have to resort to that, but it might be the only option. Shit, everything was metal, fucking everything. Couldn't someone drop a goddamn pencil once in a while? 

Before the hunter could try to come up with another plan, any other fucking plan, the vampire spoke. His brows knit together, confusion washing over him. “What?” They… They were asking him to keep them held down? He didn’t understand. They wanted to be kept from their potential meal? But they were fighting him. The hunter could feel his grip loosening in all the questioning. Shit. He wrapped his arms around them tighter, nodding at them in confirmation. “Just don’t fucking bite me, got it?” He wasn’t sure how long he could hold them back or how long he would have to, but he had to hope that it was enough, that this wasn’t a trick.

—

There was the scuffle of movement, of people talking, or maybe shouting. Kit couldn’t be sure. Their world had narrowed to the scent of blood and the arms around them. “I won’t,” they promised. 

But it would be so easy to. Bite him.  His neck was right there, pounding with human blood. Or even his chest, the aorta, so close to his heart. It would be so warm and fast, that close. They could still remember the way that particular artery ripped under teeth and spilled blood into their mouth–

The scent mellowed. Didn’t disappear, it was still woven thick in the air, but it was getting staler. Someone had shuffled the waitress into a back room, it seemed. Without the source of that fresh blood, Kit’s manic hunger ebbed somewhat. It was just the stain of whatever spilled on the floor and that was less appetizing. Not that they couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t lap it right off the dirty linoleum, though. Some of the fight did leave their body and they relaxed against the man, sinking into his hold as if it were an embrace, not a restraint.

“Thank you,” Kit sighed out, barely audible. Their fangs were still popped, though, and their eyes were likely still red. Not safe yet. “Can you–” They nearly gagged on how persistent their hunger was. “Can you get me outside? Please.” It would be easier, if they were just further away from it. Outside. And then they could go home. To Matty. Sort their head out. But they wouldn’t be able to pull themself away. Not on their own.

—

Kaden had to trust that they weren’t lying. He had to. What other choice did he have? Alright, sure, he could get up and find some way to stake them. That was an option in front of him. He could practically feel his sister’s gaze boring into him like they had that night when he couldn’t– He could hear her calling him weak. And pathetic. Merde, he couldn’t let his thoughts drift there. He couldn’t. And he wasn’t going to let go. He had to hold on. He had to trust that this vampire didn’t want to hurt anyone as much as he didn’t want to stake them. 

He felt relief sink into his shoulders when they asked to take them outside. He nodded, releasing some of his grip around them slowly. It was then he remembered that they weren’t alone in the diner. Putain de merde, there were going to be some questions. He took a deep breath and then started to stand up, making sure to keep at least one hand around their arm. When he was up, he reached down to pull them up with him and darted to the door with his hands on their shoulders, guiding them out of the diner, ready to throw them against a wall if he had to on the way out. 

Once they were outside, Kaden navigated them into a corner on the side of the diner. It was empty and didn’t look like anyone would walk past. No one could watch them from the windows, either. Out of an abundance of caution, the hunter kept his arm braced across their chest while their back was against the wall. “Let me know,” he said, his heart rate finally slowing down. “Let me know when you’re alright.” Even though the situation felt like it was under control, the hunter was still on edge. He couldn’t help but look around for any pieces of wood in his peripheral vision. Killing someone wasn’t his first choice, not anymore, but frankly, they were already dead. And if they were a danger to everyone around them, Kaden wasn’t opposed to making tough calls. Damien’s face flashed in his mind. Putain. He really didn’t want to have to kill anyone. Please, please be alright so he didn’t have to turn them into dust. 

—

And then… And then they were outside. Kit could still smell the blood but it was easier to breathe past that. Not that they needed to breathe at all. Whatever. He kept his arm across their chest and the brick of the wall was biting into their back, but Kit felt far more level. Back in control, to some degree. Not quite like the monster, the animal, they had been before. Not so ruled by their impulse and hunger and the rage and the fear and…

“I’m okay,” they said after a long stretch. Not that they would blame him if he didn’t believe that. But whatever kind of internal rattle and shake had died down and they could hear their own thoughts. The roar of hunger was just a dim little quake beneath the rest of the world. They weren’t that monster, that animal, not anymore. 

Ha. Wasn’t it fitting their new friend was in Animal Control?

“You don’t seem surprised by the…well,” Kit gestured up, where their fangs were still poking out. (They hadn’t quite yet mastered the best way to hold their jaw, arrange their tongue. The fangs in their mouth still felt like something that didn’t belong.) He definitely had a pulse, definitely smelled human. A human who knew about vampires, it seemed. And they wanted to get home, to Matty, needed to. But they needed to make sure they were safe, both of them.

—

The longer he held them against the wall, the more Kaden worried that he would have to make this a fight, that he would have to be what he was trained to be. A weight he didn’t realize had piled onto his shoulders lifted when they said they were okay. They didn’t look quite as restless and ready to go in for the kill as they had just a minute ago. Slowly, he lifted his arm away, keeping his hands up and ready to leap back into action if he needed to. 

His stomach churned with an uneasiness that he couldn’t quite name. This wasn’t supposed to work this way. He wasn’t supposed to trust a vampire. He should pick up some sort of stick and drive it through their heart. Especially since they clearly weren’t in complete control of themselves. Kaden kept his defenses up, even if only slightly. He didn’t lean back in his stance and his hand all but hovered over the knife sheathed at his side. 

“Yeah,” was all he could say at first, his mouth pulled into a thin, straight line. This was the part he didn’t know how to handle, the type of encounter he’d never faced up until this point. “I know what you are. Not the first time I’ve seen a vampire.” But it was the first time he stood there face to face with one, their fangs out, not attempting to turn them into dust. Kaden still wasn’t sure it was the right choice. “Has that happened before?” It was the first thing he could think to ask, but he had a dozen questions swimming in his head, too many things he wanted to know before he even considered walking away. 

—

He eased off them and Kit almost panicked at it. The weight of his strength baring down was a comfort, made them certain that they wouldn’t completely lose it. But they found that they were…okay? Mostly. Didn’t feel the need to go breakneck back into the diner and after the blood, at least. They met his eyes, clearly not trusting them and who could blame him, and gave a little nod. Again, he’d be perfectly within his rights not to trust them, but they felt steady. Okay. 

Okay, so he knew about vampires but didn’t seem ready for a full Show and Tell session. Kit wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Were their other humans just wandering about, who knew about vampires? Well, shit, actually, Kit knew of at least two humans who fit that bill, but that was different. Or was it? Was it possible that they had just run into someone who had a vampire loved one? “Well, I’m grateful for it, anyway,” they said. “Would’ve been a real fucking mess if you hadn’t done that back there so… Thank you, again.”

They hummed a thoughtful note. Coughed out a wry laugh. “Not exactly, no. I’m kinda…freshly minted, so to speak. Still working through all the particulars.” Like the blood lust and the difference between being around blood from a goddamned chicken and blood from a human. Blood that was still alive, still being pumped out by a live heart… “Been trying to keep away from humans, to avoid that exact scene. I didn’t even really mean to show up here, you know, I was just walking around the woods and before I knew it…” Hadn’t meant it. They weren’t sure that he would believe them. Weren’t sure that Matty would.

—

Speaking with them, it was impossible to ignore their humanity, to tuck it away and forget about it, the way he had been trained to; the way he’d done it for years. Kaden was talking to a vampire, sure, but there was a person, too. Some part of his past slithered into his mind, trying to tell him that it was all an act, a form of self-preservation that monsters performed to try and keep hunters from doing what was right. But Alex wasn’t acting. Damien hadn’t been, either. And he was willing to bet that neither were they. 

He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement at their thanks. It was hard to accept just yet when it felt like the situation was still teetering on a tightrope. So they were new. Which probably meant they’d died recently. And then came back as a monster. A pit dropped in his stomach at the thought. 

“Guess I can see why you were trying to stay away.” It was strange, though. A vampire who wasn’t trying to kill or drink human blood. It went against everything he’d learned and thought he knew. It was still hard to believe, but the evidence was there right in front of him. If they had wanted to feed, they could have done so right then and there in the diner. And if they were trying to lure him away as a more covert meal, then what were they waiting for? Doubt swirled inside of him, but Kaden had to face what was right there, not hypotheticals and what ifs. 

“Do you have somewhere to go? That’s safe?” Kaden wasn’t sure where that would be or what that would mean in this case, but he couldn’t walk away without some sort of confirmation that the entire scene wouldn’t simply repeat itself in his absence with a much worse outcome. Inaction was still a choice. Choosing to let them walk away could mean he had more blood on his hands down the line and he’d like to at least lie to himself long enough to keep his conscience clear. 

—

Trying to stay away. Too bad they had failed. Just hadn’t tried hard enough. Like they hadn’t tried hard enough not to fall back into the drugs and the drunk after getting clean the first time. It wasn’t the same thing, that’s what they had tried to tell Matty all those years ago. Had convinced him, to some degree, because, well, he drank from them on the regular, didn’t he? But Kit wasn’t so sure, now that they were feeling it themself. Or maybe they just weren’t as strong as he was.

Kit’s eyes ticked up at the question. They were caught off-guard, somewhat, by the concern there. Not that they were catching any kind of malicious vibes from the dude, but they hadn’t expected that kind of care. “I do, yeah. I have a house, out in the woods, and–” Could he be trusted, though? Could they risk mentioning Matty if this guy was going to be a problem later? “And someone to keep me safe.” Hell, you were never going to get any trust unless you offered it yourself, right? At any rate, it helped calm them a little, to think of the house, their home, and Matty waiting back there for them.

“Sorry for interrupting your post-shift meal and all,” Kit said, offering a chagrined smile.

—

Kaden nodded again, trying to soak it all in. The weight of his decision only grew heavier with each second that passed. Deep down he knew, though, that looking back at the person he had chatted and joked with in the diner, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Because his sister was right. He was a sorry excuse for a hunter. And here he was, leaving his heart open and bleeding on the pavement behind the diner. Some part of him, the part he tried to keep tucked away, was disgusted with himself. Guess he didn’t need his family around to layer onto his shame after all. 

“Good. That’s good.” He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that himself, if that would be enough. “At least now you know to be more careful. Maybe come with a buddy or something.” Kaden wasn’t sure if the assurance was for them or if it was for himself. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. The interruption to his hunt was the last thing on his mind just then. In fact, he had no intention of going back into that diner or even continuing tracking the monster. How could he now that his focus was shot to hell? 

Unsure what to do now, he scuffed the pavement with his shoe, kicking up a small cloud of dirt around their feet. “If you need help…” He trailed off as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Putain, why had he started that? What the fuck had he even meant to say? How in the fuck was he going to help? “I don’t know. I’m around. I guess. Working a lot of late shifts.” Merde, he was fucking stupid. He should walk it back. He was already responsible for Alex, even if Andy was the one doing most of the work. He didn’t need to take on any other responsibilities. Or liabilities. But apparently he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

—

A dry scoff pressed out of Kit – Yeah, that’s what Matty had said. That he should just be there, for the first while, if there were gonna be humans around. Turned out he was right, go figure. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Or at least they’d just be more careful to stick to the woods and not get drawn into the town. 

They cocked their head at his offer, a smile starting. “That’s sweet. Thanks, dude. I’m hoping I’ll be good but… Can’t hurt to have friends around.” With that, they started to edge away from the wall, moving for the street. All that frantic frenzy had burned up inside of them like a bottle rocket and now they just felt spent. And this wasn’t even the end of it because when they got home, they would have to talk to Matty. Even with that looming, they were looking forward to just being home.

Before pitching around on their toes and showing him their back, they tick a finger up. “Oh, uh,” They don’t offer their hand, too afraid that he might not take it. What with the fangs and the eyes and the being driven to near murder in a shitty diner. But they do trail out, “I’m Kit, by the way.” It was always helpful, they figured, to put a name to the face. “Circumstances might’ve been subpar, but it was good to meet you.”

And then they do head home, turning their back to him and trusting that he won’t put a stake through it.

—

Something about their attitude was, well, calming wasn’t exactly the right word. Disarming, maybe? It was enough for Kaden’s guard to slowly fall away, his hand no longer ready to grab his knife in an instant. Were they always like this? So blase about tense situations? Guess he’d find out.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. Really, he hoped they didn’t mention it to anyone. If it got back to a hunter, it could get back to his sister and– No, he wasn’t going to go down that path. That was too fucking paranoid. “Kaden,” he added with a nod as he watched them walk off, about to turn and walk home himself. “Guess you saved me from the dinner surprise eggs.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Detention - Part Two

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

Back at it again with the second part of Anti’s IRIS visit :) Not much to say about this. Still based off “Anomaly Found.” This is the part where most of the exciting things happen hdjkfaslhjkl. Anti is not handling this well—any of it. But hey, at least there’s a bit of an explanation before things all go downhill quickly. I mean what? Anyway, have fun ;)

More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter

When the door finally opened again, Anti was about ready to lunge at the doorway and force his way past whoever walked in, finally escaping this maddeningly small room. Unfortunately his reflexes weren’t as sharp as they should have been, and he barely had time to stand up before the door closed again. The same man had walked into the room, the one with the white coat and clipboard. “Please sit down, Mr. McLoughlin,” he said.

“Oh hey, welcome back! Did you finally remember I was here?” Anti drawled. “Are you finally going to tell me why the fuck you’ve basically kidnapped me?”

The man didn’t answer, merely walked over to the table. He put something down on its surface, then bent over and picked up the camera on the tripod, righting it. And then he sat down in the same chair he had last time. “Please sit down, Mr. McLoughlin,” the man said. “That’s for you.” He gestured at the object on the table: a water bottle, made of opaque blue plastic.

“Are you guys trying to drug me or something?” Anti muttered. But he still sat down. He was really thirsty, too much so to deny a drink.

Just to be sure, he poured a little bit of the water bottle’s contents into his hand. The liquid inside was clear. He took a tentative sip—and was surprised to find it wasn’t water. It tasted somehow sugary and fruity, though he couldn’t quite place the flavor. But whatever. It probably had some sort of drink mix in it. Anti glared at the man, who merely watched him. Then he quickly started drinking, not stopping until the bottle was empty. He didn’t want to risk it being taken away again. Which, judging from his experience with these guys, they might do.

Once he’d finished, the man started talking again. “The date is February 19th, 2020, we are interviewing ‘Anti’ McLoughlin once again. Mr. McLoughlin has experienced elevated exposure levels since we last spoke. Levels in the room have also increased.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Anti blinked. “Exposure to what? Like radiation or something?” He glanced around the room, seeing nothing strange except for the cameras. “What the fuck are you guys doing?!”

“Mr. McLoughlin, there are powers in this world that would seek to harm individuals such as yourself that we are trying to protect you from,” the man said casually, barely pausing as he spoke, as if it was a line he’d practiced for hours.

“What. The fuck.” Anti laughed. “You think that locking me in a room for three days is protecting me? Is that really what you’re trying to do?”

“Believe me, Mr. McLoughlin. It is.” The man’s expression was serious. Grave. Then he looked down at the clipboard. “We’re going to carry out the Hopkins Assessment again.”

“Oh, because it worked so fucking well last time!”

“As before, please try to answer every question truthfully.” The man paused. “Do you prefer to be called ‘Anti’ McLoughlin?”

“No, I made that up,” Anti grumbled.

“Are you 32 years old?”

“I’m a really tall teenager, actually.”

“Are you taking the Dr. Hopkins Assessm—”

“What the fuck are you trying to accomplish?!” Anti demanded. “Why the fuck do you think that kidnappings and weird tests are more effective than explaining to me what’s going on?!”

The man was completely unfazed by Anti’s outbursts. In fact, he sighed a little, like a teacher dealing with a troublemaking student. “On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest and ten being the highest, how would you describe your current mental state?”

“Negative thirteen,” Anti muttered. Which, though said with hostility, wasn’t entirely wrong. He was struggling to hold onto his thoughts and—

Something flashed.

Anti quickly looked up, eyes flicking to both the cameras. “What was that? Did... did you just take a picture of me?”

The man looked up at him. “Do you feel safe?”

Do you feel safe?!

“I... no,” Anti said slowly, too taken off guard to be sarcastic. Did the man ask the question twice?

“Are you enjoying your time here?”

“Uh. Y... no.” Anti shook his head. There was another flash, and a ringing sound. He flinched back. What was that?

“How does this image make you feel?” The man <doctor> asked.

Anti shook his head again, blinking and squinting. There was an image, wasn’t there? What was it? Was it familiar? “Very... confused,” he said haltingly.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the <man> doctor asked.

“No, I keep asking you that.”

“Are you comfortable

comfortable?”

What was that?

Was there an echo in the room?

“...No.” The light in the room was brighter. Anti flinched as another flash temporarily blinded him, then leaned backwards in case of more of them. Where were they coming from?

“Do you have any experience with ALTR 53815?” The doctor asked, his tone and expression unchanging despite the changing lighting.

“No,” Anti sighed, tired. “I keep telling you, I—no.”

“When was the first time you came into contact with ALTR 53815?” The doctor persisted.

“I haven’t!” Anti reiterated.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Wait…” Anti rubbed his eyes. They were starting to ache. “Didn’t you ask me that already?”

“Have you ever lost someone close to you?”

He opened his mouth to deny the question, but what came out instead was, “Yes.” He was surprised, and his confusion only heightened. Yet, somehow, the word felt right in his mouth.

“How many pictures have you been shown?”

“I don’t know, um...” Anti took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around himself. There were pictures, weren’t there? He’d seen them, didn’t he? What were they? Were they familiar? “Four?”

“How many sounds have you heard?”

Anti paused, looking down at the table. There were sounds, weren’t there? Did they come with the pictures? “Two.”

“Do you regret your decisions?”

He took a few more deep breaths. He couldn’t stay still, moving in a slow circling motion as he sat. “Yes.”

“Do you 

mean that?”

Anti looked up at the doctor. “What?”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?” he asked.

Flash.

Then a sound, like ringing in his ears, but coming from somewhere else. “No,” Anti said quietly. But then he kept talking. “I... yes.”

“Do you believe in life after death?”

A few more deep breaths. The ringing was getting louder. Coming closer. Anti leaned onto the table and put his head in his hands, collecting himself before straightening and giving his answer. “I don’t... know.”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

Flash. Bright. Right in his eyes, no matter where he looked. “Stop,” Anti said quietly.

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significaHnatvlye you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

“Stop.” The question was echoing in Anti’s head. When he looked up at the doctor, his face was wavering, as if it was underwater. He looked away again. Why did he feel like he was being watched? Was it the cameras? Or was it the faint images he could see, superimposed on top of his vision, becoming more vivid when he closed his eyes? “Please, stop it.”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

<Have you ever experienced a>      TERRIBLE    <occurrence that>    HAS IMPACTED <YOU  significantly?!>

“Stop asking me that,” Anti said weakly, hardly hearing his own voice through the echoes in his head, the images were clearer now, faces and hands and things he still couldn’t identify;

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

Have you ever experienced a      <impacted you>  experience  terrible occurrence    <terrible occurrence> ever    TERRIBLE     that has impacted

 impacted

you     <SIGNIFICANTLY?!>    significantly?

“Stop, stop, please, stop it.” Anti closed his eyes to try and get away from the things flashing in front of him, but that only made it worse, he could see people and things and he didn’t know what they were but he could see them and maybe he did know and he could see them;

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence—”

“Stop!” Anti screamed.

And all at once, the things he was seeing disappeared. The ringing sound remained, but fading, getting farther. He took a shaky breath. His throat felt raw, and his eyes were wet. Why did he feel exhausted? Why did he feel so drained? He looked down at his hands, then wrapped his arms around himself again.

“Subject’s exposure has increased to concerning levels.” The doctor was looking at his clipboard, not writing anything. “Suggest moving to second phase, pending board permission.”

Anti blinked, clearing his eyes, and raised his head to look at the doctor again. “What is this?” he asked quietly. “What did you do to me?”

The doctor stood up. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed his clipboard and the water bottle and walked towards the door.

“What did you do to me?” Anti pleaded quietly, tears choking his voice.

The doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.

Alone, Anti leaned onto the table and rested his head on his folded arms, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

The cameras continued to stare, red lights slowly blinking.

———————

Anti tried to go to sleep after that. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Though he hated how the cameras kept watching, he couldn’t find the energy to shout at them or try to knock them down. Whatever happened in that last “assessment” left him bone tired. So he just laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come. But he couldn’t do much more.

Yet, after a while, he started to feel something was... different.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Was it just him, or was he being watched? By more than just the cameras. Could he hear a whisper?

oh?udCe l

Was that movement in the corner of his vision? When he lifted his head, he couldn’t see anything.

{ra hsesa tptihW ?aw}

“No. No no no.” Anti forced himself to sit up. “Not this again, please, just go away.”

{o?my t aY gwawoua ten o}

“...wait. No.” He pushed to his feet, staggering a bit. “This isn’t the same.” He looked around. “Hello?”

{ye.n aoCreH am? hyue}

“Yeah.” Anti nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.” It was strange hearing a voice all of a sudden. But he’d experienced stranger things. “Who are you?”

{eohmsplr.ulic  Yce ana W}

“I’m Anti.” Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give his name to a disembodied voice. But this wasn’t the same as Distorter. He could just feel it. Though... what if that was a trick? He dismissed the thought immediately. If he assumed everything was a trick, he’d be consumed by paranoia. “Wait, where are you?” He looked around the room again. “How can I hear you? Magic?”

{ummteh itdo ee nB.aImc'M.hs  lc.chnaa pIuyyt et  uoe.v'a .cpdotib .l}

“Help how?” Anti paused, then gasped. “Wait, can you get me out of here?”

{t cn,N'Ia .o}

“Then why are you talking to me?” he asked, glancing around again. “Are you trapped here, too?”

{utn.eg's. eiogu  h y.enorestt tor.T}

“No no no, don’t say that,” he hurried to say. “No. If both of us work together, we can get out of here. I’m sure of it.” 

{sBy iui fterhtieg.usor nu tdo iowroi,D ttes at}

Anti took a step back, a chill running down his spine. “Wh-what do you mean? How do you know about that?”

{l... eW.l..I}

Wait. He had an idea. It was crazy, but maybe... “You’ve seen him too?”

{sYe.}

“What are we supposed to do about him?” Anti asked in a hushed voice.

{eft'i.wlM u  ' ualieylotrtg ai adnybf,unore .sptoAku e crIooa e  cny.}

He had to process that he really heard that. “Wait... wait, I don’t understand. What do you mean, ‘special’? I’m... I’m just a guy. He doesn’t even seem to like me.”

{ohIoevtg.na .  o ..w}

“No. No no no!” Anti cried. “No, please don’t go! I need to know!” He paused. But things were different again. He couldn’t hear the voice, or feel their presence. “Whisper?” he called quietly. “Are you there?”

There was no response. The room was just as empty as it had been before. He sat down heavily in his chair. “Oh, come on.” He put his head in his hands. “I can’t be alone here. Please.”

But despite his calls, he felt nothing but the gaze of the cameras.

———————

It couldn’t be that long before the door opened again. Certainly not as long as the two days after the first assessment. Maybe just one. Or not even that. Hard to tell.

Either way, the doctor walked in and sat down at his usual spot. Anti was already sitting in the other chair, though he considered the merits of getting up and walking over to the bed, ignoring this situation completely. 

The doctor sighed, and smiled. He didn’t have his clipboard with him this time. “Hello, Anti. How are you doing today?”

Anti just glared at him, deliberately not answering the question. There weren’t any mirrors here, but he knew he looked like a mess, and that should say everything.

The doctor clasped his hands together on the table. “We know you’ve been through a lot recently, Anti. But we’re really here to help. Please, allow us to lighten the mood a little?”

And then music started playing. Some gentle corporate jingle that would’ve fit right into place in an elevator. Anti started a bit, looking around. It must’ve been coming from the camera in the corner. They had speakers this whole time? And they didn’t talk to him?

“We’re not a bad company, Anti.” The doctor spoke, still smiling. It didn’t look quite right, a little forced. Trying too hard to be friendly. “We know you hate us and think we want to hurt you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. We want to stop the bad things from happening.”

Anti blinked slowly. “You’re doing a great job of that,” he mumbled.

“We would like to share some information with you about our company and why you’re here,” the doctor said. “If you would allow us.”

A pause. Anti just stared. God, this stupid music was getting on his nerves already. “Alright. Fine.” He leaned back in the chair. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for all this time. What took you so long? Tell me what’s happening.”

The doctor nodded, and started talking. Telling not an explanation, but a story. “A few years back there was an incident in a small town in the north of England. Something was discovered that had a considerable influence over the people who lived there.”

“What the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“Please, allow me to finish.” The doctor cleared his throat. “That item was a small stone sphere. It seemed harmless from the outside, but this item was affecting the lives of everyone in this town. They had no idea, of course, but many of the residents reported migraines that wouldn’t go away, numbness in their fingers and hands, and some started hearing voices. We’re not entirely sure what these voices were saying, but they had a clear impact on those hearing them. Many lost their minds or were completely unresponsive while others, sadly, took a darker path.”

Anti nodded slowly. If this was a real story, which he wasn’t entirely sure of, then this thing sounded like a magical object. “And...the point is?”

The doctor continued. “When IRIS found out what had been happening in that village, we sent out a team to negate the problem. The CNC identified the item and took it back here for containment.”

Anti laughed a little. “Alright, SCP Foundation. So?”

“So, you see, Anti, IRIS helped the people in that village,” the doctor emphasized. “We saved them. We find things like those and we protect people from them. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to help.”

“Okay.” Anti was still pretty pissed off at these IRIS guys, but at least he understood now. “You think that something like... like these weird items... is affecting me.”

The doctor’s expression became very grave. “Unfortunately, we believe there is something far more... sinister interfering with your life.”

Well, no shit. But how did they know? “How much so?” he asked.

“What is affecting you is far more powerful than any of these items.”

“Oh, that’s really comforting to hear,” Anti laughs. “So you’re saying you knew about what was going on. You could have stopped this. But you just watched.” His voice rose. “You just watched as this happened!”

“We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this, Anti,” the doctor said gently. “We know what you’ve been through.”

“No, you don’t know shit about what I’ve been through!” Anti shouted.

“You’ve been seeing things, correct?” The doctor’s voice was forceful, and he leaned over the table, getting closer to Anti. “Hearing voices? Having thoughts that weren’t right? Maybe they started after entering a strange, impossible house?” He paused. “Have you seen a man along with these visions?”

Anti just stared. He couldn’t feel his heart beating. “How do you know about that?” he asked quietly.

“That, Anti,” the doctor stated, “is ALTR 53815. We recently discovered its existence.”

The room was silent. And yet, in the silence, Anti could’ve sworn he heard someone laughing right over his shoulder. “I…” he breathed. “I don’t... know what you’re…” He trailed off. The doctor’s dark eyes were locked intensely onto his. He could feel the camera’s mechanical eyes focused on him as well. “It’s... if... if you were right... would you know what to do? Would you know about the... the terrible things that he does?” His voice dropped low and quiet, and his head tilted down to stare at the table. “Would you know... if I’d done anything?”

The doctor’s gaze lessened. For once, he looked truly sympathetic. “We know what you’ve been through, Anti.” His tone was quiet, steady. “That it’s hurt you. That it hurt the people you know. That you used to be a father.”

“...wait.” Anti raised his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you mean ‘used to be’?” Anti repeated. He could feel his heartbeat again, pounding in his ears and throat.

The doctor paused. “Records show that your son, William McLoughlin, has been missing since early November.”

“Yeah, he was. But—but we got him back.” Anti’s voice began to rise in volume again. “We—we got him back, a-along with my—his friend.”

“Your goddaughter, Michelle Parker-Diaz, was returned, but there are no records for—”

“No no no, you—you have to be wrong!” Anti gripped the edge of the table. “I got him back! I-I’ve been talking with him every day since—since I—he was only gone two weeks. He was only gone two weeks!”

“I’m... sorry to hear that,” the doctor said slowly. “But I can reassure you, there are no records for his return.”

“What do you mean?! There should be! W-we talked with some detectives, they were—I-I remember one of them, Kikelomo. She was—she’s not been the nicest to a friend of mine, but she wouldn’t lie about that, a-and I don’t think the other one would, either! Here, Will is home right now, h-he’s got to be. Or he’s with one of my friends. I-I can give you my address, you can go see—”

“We already have your address,” the doctor said.

Anti’s mind was too consumed with panic about Will to be worried about that. “Then go look! He’ll be there! Or he’ll be with one of them, he will, I-I know he will, he—he can’t not be there!”

The doctor stood up. “We can send people to go check. Don’t worry.”

“H-how can I not worry?! You just—I was just told—Will, he—” Anti couldn’t even stammer out a response. His heart was slamming against his chest, faster and faster. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, a bit awkwardly. “We’ll tell you if we find anything unusual.” And then he turned and walked away. Anti stared at him in disbelief. The possibility of escape didn’t even cross his mind. It was too full with fear.

What happened to his son?

What had Distorter done to Will?

What had Distorter done to him?

———————

Anti couldn’t settle down. He could barely think beyond the overwhelming emotions filling his heart and veins. Terror so intense he could taste it. Worry that sat in his chest like a metal ball. Anger which blurred his vision with heat. Then, in a split second, he’d go back to terror. In five more, he’d have cycled through all feelings at once.

He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings. The room had disappeared—he’d been untethered from it. Once he looked down at his arms, uncovered by his jacket that sat limply on the floor, and saw red marks, scratches from his own nails. But he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything other than the storm in his head. On some level, he knew that this was a spiral. That he’d keep going downwards without any way to anchor himself in the increasing waves. But he couldn’t do anything against it. Though the doctor had left the rubber ball in his cell—that’s what it was, not just a room—its bouncing could no longer force him to concentrate on reality.

After a period of time he couldn’t identify—maybe just ten minutes, maybe several hours—he did what he’d resisted doing during that long period of isolation. He slammed his head into the metal bed frame.

The sound it made was somewhere between a hollow ringing and a thud. It echoed in his skull as he immediately staggered backwards, vision blurring, and fell against the wall but luckily not all the way to the floor. The whirling storm of thought finally stopped, overtaken by the sheer pain of the impact. Anti took deep breaths. And he pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to reduce the pain that just kept getting worse. There would be a bruise there. But he couldn’t feel any blood.

It was a solid minute before he thought about anything other than how much his head hurt. But, slowly, he became more aware of the room, anchored once again without the overwhelming storm. Finally, a thought crossed his mind: that wasn’t a mentally healthy thing to do.

And Anti had to laugh. Because of course it wasn’t! This isolation, this confusion, this fear that IRIS was putting him through was torture. Of course he wasn’t reacting well to it. Of course it was causing a relapse. For all Distorter had put him through, he hadn’t driven him to this point. He didn’t care if IRIS wanted to help or not—he would always hate them for this.

Then the door opened.

The doctor didn’t actually step into the cell this time, just stood in the doorway. “I’m very sorry, Mr. McLoughlin, we need to take you somewhere more secure.”

Anti stared at him. The doctor wasn’t alone. There were two black-clad others with him, wearing facemasks that covered the lower halves of their faces. He’d seen their type before. Security guards for this facility. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, Mr. McLoughlin, it’s merely a precaution,” the doctor said calmly. Too calmly.

Something was wrong. Not only was the doctor acting off, not only had he brought two guards, but Anti could now hear a faint, distant scream of an alarm. “You’re not telling me something,” he said slowly. “What happened?”

“We do this a lot, Mr. McLoughlin, we move people around to free up space.” The doctor smiled, lips closed. “You don’t want to be stuck in this tiny room forever, do you?”

Anti’s shoulders raised. That sounded like a threat if he’d ever heard one. “I’m not buying what you’re selling,” he growled. “I know something happened.”

“If you would just follow us, we would happily explain everything.” The doctor glanced at the black-clad guards and made a gesture. The two of them walked into the room and made straight for Anti.

“No!” Anti glanced to either side, then darted left, trying to make a run for it. But he was still weak and lacking energy, and the guards easily caught up. They grabbed him, each holding one of his arms in a death grip. “Let go!” Anti struggled fruitlessly. “You bastards! What happened?! What are you going to do with me?!”

“We’re moving you to a different location,” the doctor said calmly, stepping back out into the hallway. “If you cooperate, things will be easier.”

“You don’t deserve my cooperation! Hey!” The guards began walking back to the doorway, pulling him along with them. “Motherfuckers! Let me go!”

And then they were out into the hallways. Anti kept cursing at the guards and pulling against their grip, but while he did that, he looked around. He hadn’t seen anything outside that room in days. It was surprising how normal it all looked out here. Like hallways in a regular administration building for any business. Apart from, of course, the distant ringing alarm.

They walked down a couple hallways, turning a couple corners, the doctor in the lead with Anti—still fighting—and the guards behind him. Until finally, they came to a long stretch that ended in a pair of double doors. There were windows in the doors, glass squares in the upper half of the wood. Beyond them, the light was red.

“...wait.” Anti stopped struggling for a moment, processing what he was seeing. The glass in the windows was whole, yet the image through them looked somehow shattered, as if he was looking through broken glass. A fractal of the same image.

“What is it, Mr. McLoughlin?” the doctor asked.

“This... this isn’t right.” Anti looked over his shoulder. The hallway behind them was still normal. “We have to turn back.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Mr. McLoughlin,” the doctor said, sounding a bit annoyed.

“No! No, I’ve—I’ve seen this before.”

“That’s impossible, Anti.”

“You don’t fucking get it!” Anti snapped. “I’ve—I think I’ve been somewhere like this before. No, I-I have been here before.” He didn’t know how, but he remembered this place. And more importantly, he remembered the fear attached to it.

The doctor didn’t say anything, just looked at the two guards. They started walking forward again.

“No!” Anti’s struggles intensified. “Please! Let me go! Let me fucking go!” He managed to tear one arm free, and then the other. The moment he could move he broke out into a sprint down the hallway. He had to get out of here! He didn’t know why, but he had to get out!

But the guards were still much faster than him. He only had a few seconds of freedom before they grabbed him again, yanking him back by the shirt and pulling him back to the doors and their broken red light.

“Calm down, Mr. McLoughlin.” The doctor’s voice was calm, controlled. But beneath it, he thought he heard laughter. “Come along.”

“Shut the fuck up! We have to leave! No!” Anti did everything he could. He wriggled, he pulled, he tried to kick the guards’ legs, but nothing was working. They slowly dragged him backwards. “No, please! No!” The doctor was still talking, but he didn’t hear a word of it. “Let me go, please!”

The red glow was hot on the back of his neck. He put all his desperate energy into his struggles, but he couldn’t break the guards’ grip. “No! No!” he screamed. One of them reached out, and opened the do—

———————

There was an alarm going off in the distance.

Anti opened his eyes—when did he close them?—and found he was sitting on the floor, slumped against a wall at the end of a corridor. Red emergency lights shone down overhead. He slowly sat up straight and looked down the hall. People were lying on the floor.

No, not people. Bodies. There was blood pooling around their still forms. Most of them were black-clad guards, but he caught glimpses of white coat wearers lying in open doorways. He couldn’t see the doctor who had talked with him all this time. That wasn’t much of a reassurance, though. Those open doors doubtlessly led to rooms that could be hiding more bodies from view.

He felt a cold chill encompass his heart. What happened here? Why couldn’t he remember anything after opening those doors?

Movement. Anti’s eyes darted to the very end of the hall. Another guard stumbled into view, and then collapsed, going as still as one of the bodies. And behind him, Anti could still see something moving.

A man stepped into view.

He was walking, but something was off about it. A leg was bending the wrong way, an ankle was twisting too far. The arms dangled lifelessly, disconnected, and the head was tilted to the shoulder with the face turned upward. Blood poured from the side of the head, as well as the black pools that served as the eyes. White teeth were bared in a too-wide empty smile.

Anti pushed back against the wall. His eyes darted around, looking for some way out. He couldn’t see one. This was a dead-end corridor. 

The man walked closer. He should have only managed a shuffle with his limbs and body like that, but he was completely unhindered. His pace was slow and deliberate, like a tiger stalking its prey. Anti watched as the head twitched, then snapped upright. The arms and legs shifted into place, and he shuddered as the movement was accompanied by the popping of joints. He pressed further back against the wall. It wouldn’t help. He knew that. But there was no way out of the corridor without going around... him.

And then he stopped. The man stared down at Anti, who stared back up, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The alarm was still blaring.

Distorter smiled wider, opened his mouth, and spoke.

“Hello Ao͢dh̶án͞.”

[shiinavanhellsing]

Chapter One

７：３４ ｐｍ

Ｐａｒａｄｉｓｅ Ｉｓｌａｎｄ

Ｂｒｏｏｋｌｙｎ， Ｎｅｗ Ｙｏｒｋ

（ＭＩＲＲＯＲＥＤ）

"This is the place, I can definitely sense their reaitsu from here!" She confidently stated.

A loud scoff rang through the Sternritter's ears..the pink mohawked male scrunched his face in disgust and after scanning the area that they were assigned to.

"A strip club?! You're telling me that you can sense some spiritual pressure through there?!" Bazz B grimaced. "Are you sure that it's not the rancid scent of liquor and drugs getting to you Bambietta?!"

"She's right, it's so strong that it's basically radiating the building compound in the front of us..." Äs observed. "Yhwach would not send us here for no reason if this wasn't the place after all...."

"Let's make this quick and easy.....the smell of liquor and marijuana is making me nauseous..." Jugram gritted. "Not to mention the music that's playing right now is starting to give me a headache."

The Sternritters flash stepped onto the very top of the building. A drill song was booming in the background which gave them a advantage to start planning out their next attack.

"This is gonna be so fucking easy.....I honestly don't know why Yhwach is telling us to be careful with these EBK people anyways..." Bazz B scoffed.

Meanwhile Jaír, Kartier, Nico, Dotty, Reekz, Ohagi and Riina were hiding themselves behind one of the generators.

Thanks to Tareek's zanpakuto suna no ojō (sand princess), they were able to not only make themselves physically undetectable but they were also able to easily hide their reaitsu against any of their opps.

"Everybody Killer?! Tch. More like Easily Killable...." Bambietta chuckled gently placing her palms up to the sky.

"Now if I end up booming this bitch immediately on the spot then I'm a asshole right?" Ohagi thought to himself.

Multiple star shaped glowing orbs were set off in the air and started swirling around the building.

"Just set off the bombs you slut!" Liltotto snapped, "You ALWAYS have to have a corny fucking remark for everything you do."

"Oh boo hoo! Please, don't patronize me." Bambietta chided putting her hand in the younger sternritter's face.

A loud lightning strike startled the rest of them as the ground started vibrating below, making them lose focus.

Another lightning strike flashed upon the skies and then seven of the EBK members were shown facing them.

"Oh, wow. So you guys are the so called EBK people that our leader has been monologuing about for the past week?" Bazz B sarcastically asked.

He then looked at them in disgust, there's no way that these people are the almighty powerful EBK members.

Jaír cleared his throat and took off his shades and flashed his gold vampire diamond grills.

So this nigga wanted to send some goons after his ass and had the nerve to send them to his workspace? Then the audaciousness of those goddamn Sternritters to talk down on them, not knowing what's in store for them?

Oh, they're gonna learn today!

"We them big EBK niggas that be toting the knock with the beam on the glock.... When you see us you better get to running like Ricky because you gonna get a hole in the chest with the blicky....we them chain snatching, opp packing, block spinning, drill mission, booming with the sally ass niggas." Jaír introduced himself.

All of the Sternritters looked at him confused while Bazz looked like he wanted laugh at him so badly.

He had no clue who these rambunctious group of idiots think they were stepping to him like this.

All he knew was that it would give them the opportunity for a quick painless death.

"94gz no GZ like these you heard?" Jaír stated with a confident smirk on his face.

"Jack Bs we jack bigger bs drop my shit we gonna let it squeeze!!" The EBK members exclaimed in unison.

Jugram rolled his eyes and lowly snickered.

This was gonna be over in a few seconds....So he thought....

Little did he know that this fight was gonna be one for the books and the Sternritters were definitely gonna be on the losing side.

"Alright them comrades, let's get this over with..." Jugram grumbled making the rest vexed Sternritters stand their getting along with him.

Kartier and Nico jumped up and immediately started attacking Nanana and BG9 from behind throwing everybody else of guard.

Multiple cero blasts were shown lighting up the sky with ash blinding their vision, confusing and disorienting them.

Dotty threw multiple lighting bolts towards Liltotto and Riina drop kicked Bambietta while planting one of her special Rii Rii "thunder bombs" on her neck vigorously electrocuting her.

A loud sonic scream was heard thanks to Jerome who was fighting off a invisible Reekz.

Multiple gashes were seen appearing on his chest and arms with blood slowly pooling over.

"WILL YOU STAND STILL YOU INSOLENT SHINIGAMI?!" He roared.

"Suck my dick!" Reekz taunted, vaguely revealing a slight clear version of himself before quickly turning himself invisible again.

"YOU BASTARD!!!!" Jerome shrieked.

Meanwhile Ohagi was dealing with Mask who kept annoying him as they were engaged in aerial combat.

One thing he hated was when a nigga kept running his mouth in the middle of a fight.

"Little kitty....I see that you're starting to get agitated...." He mocked him.

"WORD TO MY MOTHA, IMMA BOOM YA IF YOU KEEP CALLING ME KITTY ONE MORE TIME!" Ohagi spat. "WITH YOUR BOOTLEGGED HULK HOGAN LOOKING ASS, I'M DEFINITELY GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN TURNING YOU INTO GRABBA!!!"

One thing about Ohagi, he had a temper on him. Which is crazy because everybody in EBK was known for being extremely hotheaded.

It definitely wasn't as bad as Hekka's but it was definitely up there with Nuria and Jaír.

"Such a unmannerly foul mouthed creature you are.....too bad I'm gonna have to kill you alongside the rest of the shinigami that you're aligned with...." the Sternritter tutted.

Ohagi rolled his eyes and immediately caught Mask's fist, kicking it out of his hand and slicing his back with Candace's own blade.

"I'm a espada dick head get ya facts straight, pussy." He hissed.

Truth be told, the only people in EBK who actually even considered themselves as shinigami were Tareek, Hekka and Nuria.

Nuria despite being reincarnated from the Shinto fire goddess Fuji, was also a espada just like Nico, Kartier and Ohagi but she was also a shinigami as well and had no problems experiencing her soul reaper side.

Other than that; the twins are fullbringers, Azure, Nuria, Olori and Lotus are reincarnated deities and Jaír is actually a quincy.

"Wha- What is this?! Why can't I steal your bankai?!" Äs panicked. "Why can't I expose your fears?!"

"I'm a quincy you doofy ass nigga." Jaír responded lighting a blunt and smoking it in front of him. "I'm just not like you dayroom hoity-toity bustas."

"ENOUGH! I WILL NOT BE RIDICULED BY THE LIKES OF SOME LOWLIFE STREET URCHIN WHO DARES TO EVEN CALL HIMSELF A QUINCY!!!" Jugram snapped intervening the fight.

"Ohhh, so this nigga thinks I'm capping." Jaír mumbled with a slight giggle.

He then turned to everybody else who was fighting and waved to them.

"AYO! THESE NIGGAS THINK I'M LYING ABOUT BEING A QUINCY Y'ALL!!" Jaír cried out.

Each EBK members stopped at their tracks and turned to Jaír in disbelief. All of them started laughing alongside Jaír pissing off all the Sternritters.

"Word to my abuela, these niggas is chatting. Jaír is definitely a quincy, he just more powerful than y'all." Nico commented.

He then looked at Bazz B, turned to Jugram and turned back to Bazz.

"He'll fade y'all faster than this nigga's hairline on bro...." He joked irritating Bazz.

"I told you somebody was gonna say something about that mohawk." Bambietta remarked.

"Bambietta, in all honesty can you please shut the fu-"

A big flash of lightning struck Bazz in his chest knocking him out while a ray of thunder bolts clashed against Bambietta's bombs knocking her out.

"Imma just keep it a bean wit y'all. This fight is dead getting dry. We just need to wrap this shit up..." Riina quipped looking at her older twin sister.

"SOMEBODY FINALLY SAID IT!!! I'm getting sick and tired of fighting this goofy ass nigga!" Kartier agreed. "How am I supposed to take a nigga named Nanana seriously?! Nigga named after some adlibs. The fuck!?"

"HOW DARE YOU?! YOU PEOPLE ARE SUCH CRASS INDIVIDUALS!!" Askin gasped. Gerard scoffed and shook his head at each of the EBK members.

“You impure lawless urchins are all scum of the earth, I'll have no problems killing each and every single one of you disgusting lowlifes.”

Gerard then found himself getting thrown against the pavement and repeatedly molly whopped across his face and chest.

"SHUT YOUR BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL LOOKING ASS UP ALREADY!!! GODDAMN!!! WITH YOUR DOLLAR TREE HAWKMAN LOOKING ASS SELF!!! OH MY GOD! I SWEAR TO GOD IMMA BOOM YA ASS!!!" Ohagi hollered getting his licks in.

He grew very perturbed as he continued punching him straight in his face, even managing to break his mask. A wave of shock hit the Sternritters in reality with the scene their comrade was in.

The fact that he was 8'6" and was getting tore up by a regular looking so-called espada shocked the hell out of them.

"AYO, HAGI! CHILL!" Tareek warned him. "You're gonna drain your reaitsu again like last time!"

"DOES IT LOOK I GIVE A FUCK RIGHT NOW REEK!!!!???" He spat on response kicking Gerard in the groin area.

"Good grief...." Jaír murmured. He then used the arrow tattoos on his hips to snake his way through Ohagi's body and with a quick ninjitsu like hand gesture seal him from going mad with rage.

"Goddamn! Finally! I thought his angry ass was gonna do it to himself again." Nico groaned. He then turned to Dotty with a small smirk on his face.

"Think they had enough?" Dotty asked him.

"Yeah, it was getting boring fighting them anyways. Send em back where they came from or whateva, imma go smoke myself to sleep and call it a night." Nico answered.

Dotty rubbed her hands together creating a electric force as Jaír started his incantations with his pupils turning fully white.

Both of the twins struck the sky with The Sternritters being sent back to whence they came from.

"Ugh. Word to my mutha, they drid for even doing this on the busiest night of the week." Reekz whined. "We definitely not gonna hear the end of it from Hekka."

"Actually, I'm not mad at you guys."

All of them turned their heads towards Hekka who flash stepped over where his subordinates were located.

"Damn nigga, you was here all this time and ain't said shit?!" Ohagi questioned. “Could've knuckled up with those dayroom ass niggas and finished fighting them quickly!”

"I literally just came up here, stop being dramatic." Hekka retorted waving him off. "But yeah, I have a feeling that this isn't gonna be the last time we see those cornball ass niggas."

He then directed them to come back to his office for a group meeting to discuss the tactics just in case they come back.

"Something about this bullshit is definitely gonna escalate even further, I can feel it." Riina mumbled.

Riina then looked behind her feeling another powerful reaitsu for a slight second only for them to not sense anything.

The soul reaper sighed out in relief and then flash stepped back to the soul society to explain the results of his secret special mission.

A quick soft knock was heard on the current first division captain's door.

"Come in....Shuhei" He spoke.

"Captain Kyōraku, there's something that I need to tell you. You remember Captain Chandoo right?" He asked hesitantly.

Shunsui's eyes widened as he immediately stood up and looked at the ninth division lieutenant straight in his eyes. He hadn't heard that name in eons, last time he was even in the soul society, he was casted away as a traitor and was never seen again.

"What are you saying exactly?" He asked cautiously.

Shuhei gulped and took a deep breath before trying to piece together how he was exactly going to explain this word for word back to the overall leader.

"He's still alive. He has a new name, new division and new alias...." He mustered out. "You see....This particular division he has in New York, is not like any squad division or arrancar group....they're extremely powerful."

"They managed to fight the Sternritters without taking damage at all....one of them even lifted up a 8ft Quincy and even threw him into orbit, it was INSANITY!"

Shunsui sat back down took off his hat and ran his hands through his face.

"What even is this group?!" He questioned.

"It's a group of full of deities, over powered shinigami, a couple espadas, a alchemist and two fullbringers." Shuhei explained.

"They refer to themselves as Big EBK....nothing more nothing less..." Shuhei explained, he then took out a thick cut vanilla colored manila folder and immediately handed it to the first captain.

“Urahara told me that it was best if you took a look at these files yourself....I managed to get a peek at them myself and I'll say this” He retorted with a small gulp, “These files accurately describe the EBKs... Captain you have no idea how powerful they are....”

Shunsui opened the files and his grey eyes scanned all of the files, his mouth going agape and his pupils dilating in complete shock. He was told by the lieutenant in front of him about the information that was in front of him but, reading this shit was just insane.

CHRYSANTHEMUM "EBK LOTUS" BAUMFREE

°adult dancer at Paradise Island

→•is apparently part of the big 4 with Nuria, Azure and Olori

→•Reincarnated from the vodoun goddess of sex, fertility, crystals and flowers Erzulie

°hails from Portmore, Jamaica but resides in Brooklyn, NY

→•is of Jamaican, Bajan and Nigerian descent

°Known for having chlorokinetic combative training, aromatherapy, love inducement, serene voice, scent manipulation, aphrodisiac amplification, enhanced strength, enhanced agility, crystal manipulation and slime manipulation

°reaitsu color is said to be lavender colored

°allegedly proficient with using a zanpakuto but chooses not to use it.

°apparently trained with Soi Fon & Yoruichi at the time.

AMBROSIA "EBK NURIA" MAHADEO

°Adult dancer at Paradise Island

→•is apart of the big 4 with Lotus, Azure and Olori

→•reincarnated from the Shinto fire and volcano goddess Fuji

°Is of Trinidadian and Japanese decent

→•Born and raised in Harlem, New York

°is a pyro kinetic, fire breather (her fire is rose pink in her normal form but in her shinigami form it's rainbow colored), immunity to burning, combustion combat, pyro kinetic flight, fire mimicry, flammed combatant, glowing eyes and healing fire

°also has sexual inducement and passion manipulation

°reaitsu color is surprisingly a peach color

°half espada/half shinigami (so Ichigo might have somebody else to relate to.....I think....)

°cero color is rose gold

IEKANA "EBK OLORI" DAMBUZO

°Adult dancer at Paradise Island

→•is apart of the big 4 with Lotus, Nuria and Azure

→•reincarnated from the Hawaiian trickster water, fire and animal god Maui

°Is of Nigerian, Tahitian and Grenadian descent

→•was born in the Soul Society but ended up being raised in Queens, New York

°can manipulate water, ice, blood and other liquids. She's very skilled in lunar combat, is extremely fast, can replicate herself up to 100 times, and has recently learned how to use her hair as a weapon

° uses a giant fish hook weapon made from a shark's tooth that's been passed down to her from generations

° According to Kon, she can also shape shift and can use her water abilities to create clones of her enemies

•Has actual shark teeth that she hides under her veneers and grills

°YES, she has love and sexual inducement

°reaitsu color is periwinkle

NIZHONI "EBK AZURE" CEPHUS

°Adult dancer at Paradise Island

→•is part of the big 4 with Lotus, Nuria and Azure

→•reincarnated from the Egyptian lion god of air, magic and

°Was born and raised in Mount Vernon, New York

→•grew up with her childhood best friend EBK Ohagi in the Harlem neighborhood of Sugarhill

°Is of Hispaniola (Dominican and Haitian) descent

°can manipulate air, wind, sky, sound, pressure, smoke, ash, clouds and energy.

° is a alchemist and is said to be getting stronger with her magic according to Uryu

° Can apparently warp into different places inside and outside the sereiti thanks to her "vape box"

°has sexual inducement and love manipulation

°known for her supreme voice and sonic high pitched vocal sound waves, this is very resourceful for her haido and kido releases.

°reaitsu color is said to be beige

DIONYSUS "EBK OHAGI" ETTIENÉ

°Is a deejay for Paradise Island

°Was born and raised in Sugarhill, Harlem, NY

→•grew up with his childhood best friend EBK Azure before she moved to Mount Vernon

°is of Guyanese and Brazilian descent

°is said to be a espada

°his hollow mask has leopard spots all over them

°has a seafoam green reaitsu

°he has a human form, espada form and leopard form

°his leopard form is him being black with white spots all over him.

°is known for his weapon proficiency (knows how to use a sword, gun, sais, bazooka, metal robotic gloves, bo staff, etc)

°is multilingual for every language except for Samoan

°cero is also seafoam green

°likes to use the word "boom" a lot....and I mean a whole lot.

•has enhanced speed, leopard physiology, rage inducement, fast reflexes, dusk manipulation, dawn manipulation, solar manipulation, heat immunity, lunar vision, solar vision, lunar combat, pearl manipulation and soul combat

TAREEK "EBK REEKZ" BENJAMIN

°host and party promoter for Paradise Island

°was born and raised in Highbridge, Bronx, NY

°is of Aruban and Cape Verde descent

°is the only one who has a confirmed zanpakuto

°similar to Soi Fon, he has brass knuckles with small spiky chains attached that spell EBK that he uses as his sword

°his zanpakuto is called suna no ojō(sand princess)

°his release form is said to be drip, suna no ojō

°apparently he has achieved bankai but, he has yet to name it.

°reaitsu is navy blue

°has invisibility, teleportation, death force manipulation, sand manipulation, soul absorption, multiple arms, venomous fangs and hypnosis

ENENRA "EBK NICO" CAMACHO

°is actually the original #2 espada but was replaced after being secretly killed by Aizen

°refers to himself as "Mr Jack Me or Clap Me" for some reason

°he was reformed and cloned from the original black hollow that Tousen used for his experiments

° is of Dominican descent

°was born and raised in the Bronx for many years

→•lived in River Park Towers all his life hence why he screams "RPT! 4SEV! 4SEV!" from time to time

°is a sound engineer and deejay for Paradise Island

° feeds of the dead ashes of his "opps" and smokes them to restore his energy

°cero color was originally jet black but after being stabilized by Mayuri a while back, it was changed to a ash like grey color

°his reaitsu is a charcoal greyish black color

°has ash manipulation, ash mimicry, dust manipulation, death connection, resurrection, death manipulation, smoke mimicry, smoke manipulation, preservation and darkness manipulation

KAMARI "EBK KARTIER" HERNANDEZ

°is the younger cousin of EBK Nico

→•they argue A LOT and I mean A LOT

→•not sure if he counts as a arrancar or just half hollow

°"fuck a sword my nigga, gimme the pole so I can start dumping on these niggas!"

°is of Dominican and Puerto Rican descent

°was born and raised in the Bronx neighborhood of Sevside

°is said to have sharp proficiency and excellent aiming with his gun

°is surprisingly very good at hand to hand combat despite only using his weapons

°was originally under the sexion as #6 but he got bored and asked Aizen to replace him with Grimmjow.

→• got imprisoned for calling Aizen a "bitch ass dayroom ass pussy ass nigga" and attempted to kill Luppi numerous times

°Was also experimented on by Tousen as well

°cero color is crimson red, same with his reaitsu

°"I'M BIG HEAVY ON THE DOA MY NIGGA! I'M DUMPING ON ANYBODY WHO LOOKS AT ME CRAZY YOU FEEL ME?!"

→•"GUN JAM UP HE GET BEAT THE POLE, FUCK IS YOU TALKIN ABOUT?!"

°works as a bouncer for Paradise Island

°has ox physiology, stone mimicry, laser manipulation, guardianship, geomancy, divine sight, truth detection, reflection manipulation and 360 degree vision

BARAKAH "EBK JAÍR" JACKSON

°is a bouncer for Paradise Island and the right hand man to EBK HEKKA

°is of Jamaican and Panamanian descent

°is born and raised in Brooklyn, NY

°Has two different colored magical eyes (one black and the other one is bronze)

→his black eye is for sensing reaitsu and the bronze one is to control his spiritual pressure

°is known for using tattoo sorcery, personal seals, tattoo symbols, tattoo manipulation, voodoo combat, blood magic, gesture casting, spell casting, body possession, phantasm manipulation, necromancy, death magic, death force manipulation, blood magic combat and polar combat

°is apparently the ONLY quincy on his team

°"94Gz no Gz like these ya hurd

Jack B's we jack bigger B's drop my shit we gon let it squeeze"

°is highly skilled in using haido

° is able to use body puppeteering to immediately exterminate a enemy

° reaitsu color is indigo

°is already advanced in curse markings

TEMARI "EBK DOTTY" HARRISON

SUMIRE "EBK RIINA" OSAMA

°Temari and Sumire are twin sisters that were separated at birth but reunited in their pre teen years (Temari is 10 seconds older than Sumire)

°the hostesses and emcees for Paradise Island

°Temari and Sumire are of Jamaican, Curacaoan and Bajan descent

°both of them was raised in Brooklyn with Sumire being in Flatbush at the time and Temari being in Coney Island

°both of them are fullbringers

°Temari is efficient in electro kinesiology, lightning manipulation, electric mimicry, electric immunity, detection and reflection towards lightning and spark arts manipulation

°Sumire, just like her sister is efficient in the arts of electro kinetic combat but she has thunder manipulation, thunder storm creation, vibration manipulation, concussive force, shockwave inducement and storm manipulation

° Sumire and Temari were the first EBK members to master flash step

° Sumire and Temari have gold and silver reaitsu

°both of them are known for having party inducement, siren song (both of them are rappers apparently), fun manipulation and dance combative. Not to mention dancing empowerment.

°both of them are known for using haido #31 and hado #33 like basketballs or some sort against their enemies

ZAHEER "EBK HEKKA" CHANDOO

°the leader of the EBK Shinigamis

°is the club owner of Paradise Island

°was originally 4th division captain before he was banished out of the soul society because of Gin

°he was the first ORIGINAL Kenpachi

°Is of Tobagoan and Cayman descent

°at first he was living in Atlanta but at the age of 10 years old he moved to Queens, NY

° he was originally in squad zero before he became Captain of squad 4

° super powers include: invisibility, camouflage, illusion vision, yin and yang manipulation, illusion manipulation, werehyena physiology, feral mind, enhanced strength, enhanced speed, enhanced agility, enhanced intelligence, astro kinetic combat, plasma manipulation, rage inducement, chaos inducement, fear inducement, truth manipulation, serene voice, cosmic manipulation, spirit physiology, flawless healing, potion creation, path manipulation, afterlife traveling and combat empowerment

°reaitsu color is amber orange but in his werehyena form it's a firey red orange

°"FUCK A ZANPAKUTO RESPECTIVELY MY NIGGA, IMMA PACK THIS NIGGA INTO SOME RUNTS IN LIKE 10 TEN MINUTES!"

°has a zanpakuto with two shikais and six bankais

“Six....bankais?!!? How in the hell is he even capable of this immense type of power?!” He exclaimed.

“I don't know captain but, all I know is that if I were you, I would try to contact him to get him to fight on our side before the sternritters get to us again.”

tags: @punkologist @kenpachis-woman @backwzzds @kyokutsu-sama @kenpachiislit @diorsbrando

[kithtaehyung]

minted: part two (snippet) (m) | myg

snippet: minted: part two (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au series: masterlist | part one summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! enjoy this snippet since i missed the initial part two drop! note 2: this series is for @sailoryooons, @joonary, and @minttangerines! love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma, poor reader :(((, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee…, tension, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn est. drop date: september 16th, 2024 snippet word count: 1.5k est. total word count: 9k >:))

—

—

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not because it’s the source of multiple health aspects, or the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you released your hand or if Yoongi let it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm, and the voice you hear courses through your ears, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. Nor man, for that matter.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him than you are by yourself right now. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with Yoongi, either. You don’t even know who he is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a hotel employee, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions and words you can’t name.

Yeah.

You fucked up.

Fuck.

-

-

tbc. :))

-

are we ready for the drop?! | join the taglist!

a/n: this is just the beginning!! who knowwwws what's gonna happen during the rest of the 9k+ lsdkfjdskl thank you all so much for hanging in there for me as i navigate multiple hobbies and endeavors. it means a lot to see your words of encouragement! always appreciated, and i hope you look forward to the real drop hehehe. more links: masterlist

[the-firebird69]

Trump's Viral Makeup Fail Gets Brutally Called Out By MUA

These people are dead and he's sitting there seeing it to our son i'm drinking your mom's blood. And our son said so you're dead. Theorem they started dicking with him took him down a few times and he keeps saying it and saying it and today he was saying and it started a fight and the guy's an idiot OK this man is a moron He's out there for 20 minutes and his face turns bronze. Started making fun of him in his hair is very thin he's losing his hair because he has cancer and he's undergoing treatment and the chemo is removing his hair and he's had it before no but he lost his hair by radiation exposure so he probably thinks his radiation really is he's not taking any drugs or anything for the most part he's not and he's going to die. Everyone says he does all this magical stuff and it's not magical people are just trying to get rid of him and you can see that he is having a trouble with the sun and he doesn't feel good and he is doping and he is a stupid person and the frontal lobe is having a good time with him no it's it's a fight and he is saying things that are very weird and start getting delirious and he goes how's the wall going to help you and he starts saying the wall help us by keeping out foreigners and he said under his breath he could hear it like that of yours melissa and he says she's not a daughter you idiot and it's not Camilla you moron and don't you know anything probably not. Instead of Joel Watts you know what .... Instead of Joel Watts you know what joel I was killing people in Westborough to do what you do and you're dying because we're getting you killed you're just an imbecile and you should stay out there. He says what is he talking about he's asking what what and he's telling people that while he's talking he's saying it and they're saying You're dying like every day and we can't stop you from bothering him and we think that's why you're dying this is I know that's why it's dying and the stupid son of this is I know that's why it's dying and the stupid **** **** **** **** won't stop doing it and I have to defend myself. That's because of him and Tommy F they both die every day so they said we're supposed to protect them what do we do I don't know he's not president who cares what happens to him he shouldn't be president he started this covid 19 thing he spent commonwe are everywhere and is a felon and it's going to get arrested if he's president and people are going to not stop pursuing him to the last man that's what Mac Daddy wants. Even though he's running for president that's that's what he hired him in the first place for and the Max are pushing it and had him do it and he says wow that's incredible so yeah it's like a light office thing you know at first and then the max caught up with him and they're pushing Trump to use force to get elected and Mac what is supposed to think he's not in control but he did it the first time. So they checked on it and they said what's wrong with him I said I don't know what's wrong with him the **** and he thinks he gets power by sitting near me like some sort of **** chimpanzee I have to have him move away and directors of the CIA and the president of the United States has ordered that he don't he is not near me and your Secret Service and your duty bound to follow your orders and they said we're **** here to protect him and said You're here to protect him the orders are for you to keep him away from me because if he's not near me he doesn't die and they ordered you to keep him away from me because I'm AVIP inventor and it comes out in code that a baby can understand if you don't follow those orders they're going to go after you and I'm sure they have already and they said this we're supposed to keep him away from him but this **** threatens us if we don't but he's saying that the government's going after us and they are they keep on taking their badges and saying Don't show up.  Then I'll tell you what these guys don't get it either. Says you can be buried with your gun but you're not going to be buried with your badge and you're certainly not going to get help from me if you try and kidnap me like you always do you get killed people who get to try and kidnap me die mac proper some of them go nuts and try it and they're dead. Original Ronnie James Dio is not this imbecile trump and he's dead there's a whole bunch there's a big list trump's claiming that he killed them and is involved in is a fool. I'll tell you what So they got it he said we're gonna get rid of your family and your clan and then you so he says well think it's a computer and stuff it says that's outstanding that's what **** thinking and that's gonna happen to all you stupid **** **** you're disobeying an order you are treasonous you can be shot on site your brain of people flying out and going all over the place you get a new brain and it won't be you committing the crime just be thankful someone else is going to take your place i've seen it 100 times so these guys said it's actually come down to this if we continue to mess with that guy we're all gonna be gone and they said why don't we just kidnap him and they said it'll probably kill us and we'll all die and it's starting to talk about it at least

On another note it looks like some of them get it and they joined MIB but mostly they don't and they end up gone and we're gonna have to go after them they suck so bad they're so **** stupid.

Thor Freya

We heard it too you're seeing outrageous **** I said if the guy in front of you in line has his brains blown out and you can see it what the **** are you looking at answer the question so we heard him slow down he says you know we're seeing people die who are doing it and all of them and it really seems stupid so some of them are questioning it saw if you walk away and the others are yelling at them and a few more walked away and the guy's sitting there with half his force and they're saying we don't want to work for you as president and we're not going to and it's happening he really needs this we hope it doesn't get in for Christ's sake what a tragedy and what a joke he can't stand up to the mac proper at all and he needs to be fired.

kamilla

Olympus

[magicalmysteries777]

The Shire Is Burning - Chapter 12.

Summary: Trying to navigate problems like growing up as a teen in the 80s in a new town can be tough enough without taking things like being on the run for faulty murder charges, alternate dimensions, and a psychopath with powers that's hellbent on revenge into account. Can Lilith do enough to help her new friends save everyone from Vecna? Or at the very least... just one person?

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Original Female Character.

Contents: Swearing, smoking, drug use, eventual smut, and canon typical violence mentioned throughout. Minors DNI.

Chapter: 12 of ?

Chapter Masterlist: The Shire Is Burning - Masterlist.

WC: 1567.

A/N: I am currently in the process of re-writing this abandoned wip from last year so I can move onto new projects without feeling guilty. Enjoy ❤️

March 24th, 1986.

Lilith and Eddie lay sprawled out amongst the disheveled sheets and pillows, spent. Glistening sweat covered their bare bodies and their hair was damp and bushy in places. A few moments were spent in silence, both trying to regain their breath before either one of them could muster the energy to speak.

“That was-” began Lilith.

     “Amazing.” declared Eddie.

     “Hot.” she finished.

Eddie dragged himself to the end of the bed and rummaged around looking for something, a few seconds later he re-emerged with a packet of cigarettes in hand. He laid back on the bed, lit a cigarette, and took a long, deep drag. Lilith reached over, stole one, and did the same. Eyes closed, head back, she let the reality of what just happened sink in.

“You’re staring again, creep,” she told him.

     “Your eyes are closed, how can you tell?” Eddie asked, the smirk on his face that she could not see conveying perfectly well through his tone.

     “Sixth sense, I guess,” she chuckled.

     “Spooky bitch. Anyway, I thought you quit smoking?” he interrogated.

     “There’s an exception to every rule, Munson. I thought that would be a concept you were familiar with?” she quizzed back.

     “As much as I love a loophole; it’s a lot more fun if you just set your own rules,” he answered.

Lilith placed her tab end in the ashtray a couple of minutes later and turned to face Eddie, resting her head in her hand. Eddie tucked a stray piece of hair behind Lilith’s ear and began tracing shapes gently on her skin with his fingertips. “What are your rules, then?” she asked, curiosity peaked.

     “I’ve only got one,” he answered, “there are no rules. I’m my own person and I can do or not do anything I want to.”

     “That’s a pretty good rule, but, there are things like laws and shit, you know?” she laughed.

     “Only because some random fancy-pants ancient dudes said so. Some of those laws are genuinely backwards, they’re just there to control us. Everything was put in place to benefit them,” he explained.

     “I’m no stranger to a good protest,” she smirked, “I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

     “You are a feisty one, aren’t you?” he smiled.

     “Feisty? ‘Heinous bitch’ is the term used most often; ask Steve,” she teased.

     “What’s the deal with Harrington?” he asked more seriously.

     “What do you mean?” she replied, confusion sinking in.

     “Little Henderson worships the ground he walks on, Buckley is joined to him by the hip and from what I can tell, you two are pretty close as well. I don’t get it; the guy’s an asshole. Always was at school. You should hear the shit girls say about him, he’s got a bit of a reputation,” Eddie explained.

     “Funny, he said the exact same thing about you,” she smirked, “he’s not an asshole, he’s just… got shit going on like the rest of us, you know? I’ve heard bits and pieces about what he used to be like and I can vouch that he isn’t that person anymore. He’s changed.”

     “I’ll take your word for it…” he replied, obviously not convinced.

The combination of the warm sun radiating into the room and the leg-shaking orgasms had left Lilith feeling more calm and relaxed than she had been in weeks. She let out a quiet yawn, her eyes fighting relentlessly to stay open. Eddie wrapped his arm around her and pulled her down onto his chest. “Get some sleep, Henderson. You’ve been up for hours, you must be exhausted,” Eddie instructed.

Lilith nestled in and closed her eyes, too tired to keep fighting with her eyelids. She was asleep within seconds.

-

“Stop it! Stop it, please! You can’t do this to them!” Lilith screamed at the vast emptiness, watching in horror as Chrissy’s limbs snapped over and over in front of her.

     “You still don’t remember, do you?” the voice growled. “It didn’t have to be like this, Lilith. You chose your part in this years ago. You’re weak and pathetic, just like the rest of them.”

     “Stop it! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lilith cried.

     “Oh, but you do. You were the catalyst, Lilith.”

-

When Lilith opened her eyes hours later, the bed was empty and the sun was setting. She looked around for something to wear, opting for her Hellfire t-shirt and a pair of Eddie’s denim shorts that were being held on tightly by the belt she’d found in Rick’s room and punched new holes into. Entering the living room, she looked around for Eddie, but he wasn’t there. Lilith found him in the kitchen slathering slices of bread with peanut butter.

“Good evening, sleepy-head,” he said smiling at her, “dinner will be ready soon.”

Lilith walked over and stood next to Eddie, reaching for a can of Mountain Dew out of the bags that Dustin had brought them the previous morning. Eddie scooped her up and sat her on the countertop, standing between her legs and placing an arm at either side of her.

“Eddie, I-” Lilith began. Eddie cut her off with a kiss. Lilith allowed Eddie’s lips to linger on hers for a few moments, the familiar warm feeling starting to spread over her before she quickly pulled away. “Eddie…” she said softly. Eddie’s arms dropped back down to his sides as he stepped backward.

     You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he asked, the smile from earlier no longer lingering on his face.

     “I- You- I don't know,” she eventually admitted. “There’s still things to process and nowhere near enough time right now to even begin thinking about them. I’m a little bit more concerned with how we’re going clear our names and shit, you know? It was fun, don’t get me wrong, the, uh, you know… but I think we both got a little bit caught up in the heat of the moment. Probably shouldn’t happen again,” she stated. Eddie looked deep into her eyes for a couple of seconds before smiling at her.

     “Yeah, you’re right. Caught up in the moment. Bigger fish to fry,” he told her.

     “Besides, you’re an ass,” Lilith chuckled. Eddie replied using his middle finger before turning around to finish making their sandwiches.

     “So…” Lilith began.

     “Movie or cards?” Eddie asked.

-

Forty-five minutes into Weird Science Eddie turned to her with a look of shock on his face. “Hey, I’ve just realized. That’s the same kid from ‘The Breakfast Club’. He’s in everything at the minute. Damn,” he told her.

     “Yeah, he’s ace. Have you seen him in ‘Sixteen Candles’?” she asked.

     “No, is it good?” he queried.

     “You’ll love it,” she smirked devilishly, “speaking of kids, any messages over the walkie while I was asleep?” she asked.

     “No. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Should we check in?” he asked in response.

Lilith reached for the walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “Robin, are you there? Over.”

     Silence.

     “Steve, you there? Over.”

     Silence.

     “Dustin? Anybody? Are you there? Over.”

     More silence.

Lilith placed the walkie-talkie back down on the table and continued watching the movie without saying another word, trying to distract herself from how worried she was starting to get. It had been over a day since they’d last heard anything from them. What on earth were they doing? Had something happened to them?

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asked, snapping her back to reality. Lilith found herself staring blankly at the end credit scene of the movie.

     "Yeah,” she lied, blinking a few times to readjust her eyes.

     "Want to watch another movie or play cards?” he asked. Lilith thought long and hard for a minute before landing on a decision.

     “Cards.”

-

“Stand or hit?”

     “Hit.”

     “Bust.”

“Stand or hit?”

     “Stand.”

     “You’re still shit.”

“Stand or hit?”

     “Hit”

     “Oh my god, you won!”

     “Don’t bullshit me, Henderson.”

     “I’m not, I swear to God. You finally won a game.”

     “No fucking way.”

-

Eddie let out a loud yawn as he sat with his eyes drooping shut. Lilith looked at the clock; it was pretty late and he had been up all day, unlike her. She stood up very slowly, trying her best not to disturb him, and tiptoed toward the door. She’d just placed her hand on the doorknob when Eddie spoke. “Stay.”

     “Eddie-” she began.

     “Please. You’re not the only one that’s been having nightmares recently,” he admitted.

Lilith turned around and sat back down on the sofa. Eddie sat looking at her for a few seconds with his mouth open as though he was about to speak, but he closed it again. Instead, he placed his head in Lilith’s lap and stretched out across the couch. She stroked his hair gently until he was letting out quiet snores and slipped out from beneath him before retreating to the bedroom.

She pulled a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt from the bag and changed quietly before getting into bed and picking up her book. After what she assumed was a few hours, judging from the number of pages she’d read, her eyes too began to droop from the tiredness that was starting to kick in. Lilith placed her book down on the side table and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep within minutes.

-

“I can’t help you, I’m sorry,” Lilith sobbed, voice shaking.  She heard footsteps approaching and turned round. It had finally shown itself after nights of torturous auditory hallucinations.

“It’s almost time.”

[truthorconsequencesrp]

WADE SOLOMON

CHARACTER NAME: wade solomon FACECLAIM: jake weary AGE: 31 GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis man ; he&him BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC: july 28th, 1991 ; leo OCCUPATION: part-time housekeeper at DUDE MOTEL & APARTMENTS ; part-time farm hand at MILKWEED FARM HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN T OR C: six months NEIGHBORHOOD: vista la verde SONG THAT SUITS THEM: daytona sand by orville peck

TRIGGER WARNINGS: drugs ; suicide attempt

ABOUT

wade was supposed to be perfect. an upper-middle-class family with two beautiful and talented daughters and the parents thought that three was the magic number — wade was going to be it. his mother should've known he was going to be trouble from the second she held him in her arms and he wouldn't stop screaming his head off, though. his life was mostly planned out from even before he was born with no room for error, no place for straying. his sisters followed the map and came out on top, wade was going to be next. school, college, career, marriage, kids, happy life — a foolproof plan that his folks stuck to and which wade was supposed to follow, too. none of it worked for him though. 

he had trouble at school. nothing really interested him, he always half-assed things because none of them could keep his attention for too long. science and math were too complicated, books were often too hard to read so he never took a liking to english either. art was okay and he was kind of good at it but you also had to show up to school and that was too much to ask from wade. if he showed up, he was stoned, if he decided to skip, he drove somewhere secluded to get stoned. he didn't have any friends and most of the people at school thought he was a freak so it’s not like there was a lot keeping him there. 

his senior year of high school, his father ran for governor. that, of course, brought a lot of attention to the picture-perfect family that wade didn’t fit. wade’s sisters were in their junior year at yale and harvard. wade was failing pretty much everything. they were almost engaged. wade couldn’t even remember the name of the guy that kissed him for the first time because he was so drunk. they were going to become doctors or lawyers. wade had no idea what he was going to do. his parents tried to fix him. they got him private tutors, talked the principal into giving him a chance, kept telling wade that if he doesn’t clean up his act there will be consequences. they never thought to take him to see a therapist and that only happened when wade tried to kill himself on christmas day when he was 18. he told his parents that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to hurt himself and they believed him. they put him on medication and then told him to really get it together or else. 

wade always wanted to leave anyway. his hometown always felt like it was suffocating him, more than his own faulty brain ever did. so before they could do anything, he decided to leave on his own. he graduated, barely (and probably only because his parents paid for it; a waste of money, wade always says), emptied his account, packed up his car and just drove. it was week after graduation and he didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. he sent his family a postcard from boston a month later, fuck you thick in red ink on the back of it, in handwriting that didn’t even look like his own anymore. the same day he left and drove to portland, figuring that another huge city will make him feel like he belongs somewhere.

it felt liberating, to finally be on his own. while he never really had any plans for his life, he knew he always wanted to leave — leave and go places, see things. he’s spent eighteen years in a house he hated so the idea of not having a house felt good to him, felt free to him. there’s no career called a little bit of everything but that’s exactly what he did. a small job here and there, anything and everything, from working a cash register to fixing radiators. it was a surprise to see how quick wade was able to pick up a new skill, but it made sense since he was going to be paid for it. he’d sleep in his car, at some random person’s couch, a motel room, even a homeless shelter when he had to. but he was fine. he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, spend his time and money whichever way he pleased. after having his parents do everything to control his every move, it felt good to have that.

he didn’t like staying in the same place for too long, it made him feel restless. he needed to go further, he needed to see more. portland, new york, toronto, nashville, houston, phoenix, las vegas, los angeles and every small town in between; wade would pull up a map, scribble some track on it (he still keeps it old school, none of that google maps shit) and follow. sometimes he’d stay a week, other times he’d stay for six months. vegas made him stick around for a year and a half and he almost ended up with a normal life (he had a steady job working the register at target, actually paid rent at the place he lived at and there was a guy who was getting really serious about him) but then the restlessness came back and soon enough he was on his way. it felt good to leave everything behind and it felt good to know that there were new things waiting for him again.

drugs that weren’t weed came surprisingly late for wade, considering his lifestyle. he was 25 and at some musician’s party in la when he tried cocaine first. he moved again soon after but then started running with a crowd that did drugs a lot. he graduated from weed few times a week to blow every weekend, or more. he tried other things, too, every party he went to crazier than the night before. it was the start of a dirty habit that wade can’t kick at this point. 

big towns started tiring him out, especially when he realized that small towns were just as easy to navigate as the capitals. he traded chicago for rockford and then traded that for a town with a single street. he still made sure that all the places were close enough to the big ones, just so he didn’t have to drive for hours to get high, but the five-thousand-people towns suited him best. especially if he changed them like gloves.

another thing he changed often was names. wade isn’t the name his parents gave him (he’s always hated it, sounded so grown up, so stuck up, everything that wade wasn’t), solomon isn’t his family name, and by now he’s given himself at least thirty, both first and last. sometimes, he’d pick something new the second he crossed a state line, sometimes he’d go from name to name for each town he stopped by. sometimes, he’d pick something as simple as john or jack, other times he’d become anderson or xander. he can’t write for shit but he’s good at telling stories and each name has one. he picked wade on the spot when he came to T or C six months ago and someone asked for his name for the first time, the last name came later, from the bible in the motel room bedside table.  

he was going to leave — this wasn’t meant to be a permanent location, just somewhere to stop by and so after a week in town, he packed up his car and went on his merry way. the very same day he crashed his car, cracked his skull and broke an arm just outside city limits. that itself kept him in town for few more weeks and once he actually settled in, he changed his mind and decided that yeah, maybe he can call this place home for a while now. it’s been six months since — he’s picked up a few jobs here and there, sleeps where he can, gets high when he has the money to spare, tries to actually have friends. in the back of his head, he’s planning another escape because the restlessness has never left and a part of him is dying for a change of scenery. surprisingly enough though, it’s become kinda hard to leave.  

EXTRA: pinterest ; playlist 1 & 2

(adrian, 26, gmt+2, he&him)