#instead of whatever she's got goin on now

[dollydeparted]

god i wish i could find this emilie autumn shirt anywhere i really really like it :( and i dont even mean by anyone selling it (would love that too tho) but it's genuinely so hard to find a pic of it. legit these have been the only ones i could find augh

[todayisafridaynight]

ik a mention rgg nerfing ttm's features when modelin sawashiro every five minutes but they really had to cause aint no way in hell would a been intimated by this bruv if they didnt

[aphrvdisiac]

TO LIE AND LOVE LIKE YOU DO.

ellie williams & abby anderson x fem!reader.

part two of off to the races.

summary — it’s been months since you ran away from the loves of your life. you think you have escaped them forever — only for them to return, with a sick game of cat and mouse coming into play as they remind you just how much you belong to them.

warning tags — adult language. extremely dark content; m*rder, stalking, possessive and obsessive behavior, threats of kidnapping, lowkey blackmail (?), threats made with a weapon. strong adult content; slapping, spitting, double penetration, edging, mommy and daddy kink(s), gun play, bondage, threesomes.

author’s message — let me know if i forgot any important missing tags for this. please proceed with caution as this part is extremely heavier than the first part; ellie and abby are so not nice in here, and it gets dark pretty quickly.

“Where the fuck could she have gone?” Abby asked, her and Ellie frantically searching the penthouse. “She knows better than to turn off her location, or leave unannounced.”

“She was just here, sleeping and resting,” Ellie stated, and their panic was overcomed with frustration and anger instead. You knew that if you went anywhere without them, that you had to tell them exactly where and your location could never go off.

They would chip you if they could. They have thought about it numerous times.

Ellie’s phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her back pocket, noticing Joel’s contact. “Hello?” She answered, irritation playing into her tone. “What’s goin’ on, Joel?”

“The police are heading to your place,” Joel said, and Ellie put the call on speaker. “I don’t know what you two have done this time, but it is bad and I am not helpin’ out with any clean ups.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked.

“I’m not some moron, Ellie!” He yelled, and she rolled her eyes. “They know you killed someone. They know your girlfriend was with you, too. I called her, and asked questions.”

“You did what?” Abby shouted. “Joel, what the fuck!”

That’s how they knew you had run away from them. You were a timid and easily frightened individual, and now that you were aware of what they had done, you scurried away and were going to hide. The pair knew they had some time to track you down to your home.

“Fuck off, Joel,” Ellie cursed, ending the call. “We have time to get her, to make up a story or whatever. We can avoid the police for the night?”

They agreed to find you and explain everything, to lure you back to them as they assured that there was nothing to worry about.

Abby’s eyes go wide. “The shirt.”

Ellie cursed under her breath, running to the closet and into the hamper — only to find the shirt completely gone. You had taken it, and now many possibilities surged through their heads.

“It’s gone!” Ellie yelled, and before the two could leave the penthouse to go to you, two detectives walked in.

The amusing yet realistic part of everything is that even though they knew that you thought you had gotten away for good, they were preparing on how to get you back, and never be able to escape again.

You had a particular interest in Philosophy during high school.

You loved to read the knowledge these scholar men would try to pass on, what they had to say about life, beauty, or death. You wanted to understand their wisdom, their perspective of all things, of everything around them, and how they got to a certain point about it.

You remembered a certain quote from Plato, of how Zeus feared the power of two humans mending together as one, leaving them with four arms, four legs, a head with two faces on it. However, he was so threatened by this that he split them into two, and left them to wander Earth to find each other again.

You had believed in that quote when Ellie and Abby entered your life. These two girls, the most threatening pair, would put a grand shift on your life, and how you perceived it as. They utterly shifted your world, they took you in, and prioritized your needs.

You were worshiped by them.

You couldn’t see beyond the horizon of the world without them there, and in your isolation, you still didn’t know how to.

More than sixty-five days since your departure, leaving them behind, and not hearing a single word from them.

When you came to your parent’s villa, your mother opened the door, and you sobbed into her arms, clutching onto her. She hugged you, stroked your hair, and didn’t know if she should’ve spoken or not.

Your tears soaked into her shirt, and she had to nearly drag you inside, afraid of what was happening with you.

“My dear, what’s going on?” She asked, clear to see the exhausted look on your face, your eyes bloodshot as she sat you both down on the couch. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“I just… Abby and Ellie,” you sobbed, heavily breathing, and shook your head, still in denial of what they did. “I just need to be here for a while. I’m going to transfer to Oxford.”

“You already decided on Columbia,” your mother stated, and you continued to cry, earning a sigh out of her. “You can’t just drop it now.”

You wanted to scream, “they might kill me if I return. They may never let me go after that.” You knew that they were combing through New York, probably already onto their next target — you knew the lengths they would go to just to have you back.

That was something you couldn’t fucking stomach.

“Mom, please,” you whispered, your voice jagged and shaky. “I just can’t go back to the city.” You stared up at her, and she cradled your face in her hands for a moment before nodding, and let you rest your head on her lap.

“Okay, love. You can stay here,” she assured, rubbing your back, and let you sob until you finally calmed down and fell asleep.

The next morning, your father was telling you about Abby and Ellie, wondering if you had any idea about it.

“They’re in deep shit,” he said, glaring at you. “What are you not telling us?”

“I don’t know anything, dad!” You denied, and your mother stood aside, arms folded. “Joel already asked me the same things that you are! I don’t remember shit from that night!”

“So you were there?” Your dad asked, and you fell quiet. He took your silence as an answer, sighing heavily and rubbed his temple in frustration. “You weren’t with any one of them? At all?”

“I… Ellie gave me some coke,” you confessed, guilt reeling into you as you were partially lying, and throwing her under the rug. “I was having a tough night after this guy was harassing me, and after she gave it to me, I was left with Dina and Jesse.”

An exasperated sigh came from your mother, simply frustrated that you had been doing drugs. You were never going to be her perfect daughter, and you didn’t know how long it was going to take until she accepted that fact.

Your dad took a minute to process this information before grabbing your shoulders, and forcing you to look at him. “From here on out, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, and he brought you into a hug, coddling the back of your head. Your father’s affection was never this tender or earnest, and you knew he was only being protective for the family image, but you didn’t care for that — your father was holding you for the first time since you were eleven.

You had to change your phone number, deactivate any social media you had, and new butlers, maids, and chauffeurs were put into place. Your parents allowed you to move to London a month later, staying in a comfortable flat, but were patrolled by bodyguards in answer to your paranoia.

After your readjustment to life, you prevented yourself from hearing anything Abby or Ellie, or if they were at trial. You needed to focus on yourself, get your shit together, and focus on your classes at Oxford.

A few months into the new school, you kept your head low and isolated — something you were used to doing when at Faye Academy, before they made themselves stuck in your existence.

You considered taking your courses online, but knew you’d only lose your mind being stuck in your flat for days on end.

All in four months, your life was granted something that you’d forgotten — freedom.

Not that Abby and Ellie were extremely possessive, but you haven't known anyone besides them in a while. You were able to make friends at Oxford, go out to bars and diners, without the fear they may kill someone who even breathed in your general direction.

It was a relief. And you felt human again.

Your parents constantly checked in on you, and often tried to visit. It was the first time in a while since they hovered over you, and were concerned for your well being.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine,” you assured over the phone, the device stuck between your shoulder and ear as you were returning your textbooks. “I finished classes early, so I was thinking of going back to Milan for semester break.”

“Well, honey, you see,” your mother started off, clearing her throat. “Your father and I were going to attend a gala tomorrow; Joel is throwing it.”

“I thought you guys cut him off,” you said, rushing out of the library, and to your car. “Especially after everything.”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“Ellie and Abby were found not guilty,” she said, and your heart sank to your stomach. “The trial concluded yesterday— we didn’t want to say anything.”

You froze in your tracks. “What?”

“They didn’t kill that boy. I guess he had enemies all along,” she continued, and your head spun. “If you come with us, they won’t be there. Joel assured us of it.”

“So everything is just fine now because they’re innocent?” You questioned.

“Honey, you’re acting as if you know something,” she stated, and you exasperatingly sighed, continuing your walk to your vehicle. “But Jerry and Joel did say they were going to get the girls in contact with a psychiatrist.”

“Huh, and why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, and you hopped into your car, locking the doors. “Would you like to come? And maybe we can then spend a few days in the city. Shop around Fifth.”

“I’ll think about it, momma. Still unsure about the city,” you said, and she sighed, visibly exasperated with your nerves. “I just don’t want an accidental run in with the girls.”

“You guys were so close,” she remembered. “I don’t know what happened, but I hope you all make up soon; they were the best part of your life.”

“Bye, mom,” is all you said, hanging up the call, and tossed your phone into the passenger seat, along with your book bag. You heavily sighed, staring blankly out into the parking lot.

They were the best part of your life.

They were the tragedy of you. They were Hell masked as Heaven, where their lure was nothing more than a ticket to damnation.

Yet, all of them were bestowed to you. You were their alter, their religion, the only reason as to why they believed in life, as you did with them.

But in your time of being free from their grasp, you could breathe, and find a newer light where nothing could dim it.

Your phone dinged, and your eyes snapped over to it, hands fiddling for the device. You opened up the lock screen to see a message from a random number.

Unknown: Image Attached.

You swallowed thickly, your hands numbing as you unlocked your phone and went to the conversation.

It was a picture of you from last night, hanging out with your friend, Delilah. She was someone you had been fond of since attending Oxford, and you had gotten close to her.

Unknown: Cute girl.

R: Who the fuck is this???

Unknown: Didn’t know running made you so dumb.

Nausea washed over you, and fear rattled in your bones.

Unknown: Hi, little lamb. You miss us?

R: I’ll call the police.

Unknown: I’ll tell them you tampered with evidence. We wouldn’t want that, right? Pretty baby like you isn’t suitable for jail time.

R: You would go down with me.

Unknown: You betrayed us. What makes you think we wouldn’t betray you?

You wanted to break your phone on your steering wheel, and you searched the outside of your car, checking your surroundings. There were only a few students, and it was still light outside.

But you knew they were watching you.

Unknown: You run again, and we will find you.

R: Why now?

Unknown: Had some troubles along the way, baby. But we took our time keeping tabs on you. Oxford treating you nice? How’s every bitch who fucks you?

R: You’re stalking me?

Unknown: You really are fucking stupid.

R: Don’t think I won’t get a restraining order against you.

Unknown: Why would you want that, little lamb? After everything we have done for you? Didn’t take you for an ungrateful brat, you know. We have been there when you needed us, taken care of you, dealt with people for you.

R: You mean murder people.

Unknown: Mhm.

Unknown: Be careful, honey. Scary world we live in.

You tried to send another message, but it wouldn’t go through. “What the fuck, what the fuck!” You screamed, going to your phone contacts, and bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Miss, are you alright?” Carson asked. He had been your personal bodyguard since you moved to London, and was respectful of when you wanted to be alone. “Are you in danger?”

“I need my house and the surrounding area to be checked out,” you said, reviving your car engine, and pressed on the gas. “Check for any sort of security cameras, too. Tell Rosaline to pack a suitcase for me as well, I’m heading to Los Angeles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carson answered, the call dropping, and you put your phone in your lap. You were trying not to get into a car accident on your way back to your flat, but you needed to leave the city immediately. You were just happy you finished your courses on time, and you didn’t need to worry about your education for a while.

About to reach home, your phone started to buzz in your lap. You pulled over to the side to look at the contact, only for it to be unknown again.

You hesitated on answering, just wanting to let it ring through, but a part of you wanted to know what sick agenda they had planned out for you. You knew they weren’t going to stop, that they needed you vulnerable and scared in order for them to pounce at you at the perfect moment; just like a prey and predator situation.

A game of cat and mouse.

You accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, bunny,” you heard Abby’s voice, and your head spun. It had been so long since you heard either girl's voice, that you frowned at the sound of it, and almost how comforting it could be. “Missed you.”

“Abby…” you whispered out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I… You both need to stop this.”

“Why, bun? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“You and Ellie killed Brandon, and probably many others,” you told her, sniffling as tears carelessly dropped out of your eyes. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but murder is wrong.”

“You have the shirt, bunny,” Abby stated, and you went quiet. “Why would you do that, hm? If you really wanted to dispose and run from us, you would��ve left it behind, or turned it over to the police.”

You couldn’t tell her your logic or reasoning behind taking the shirt. It even sounded unreal to you, unbelievable, given the circumstances, and how you ran off.

“I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if you both went to prison,” you admitted, hot water running down your cheeks. “I… You and Ellie protected me, and I thought it was only fair I returned the favor. But that didn’t mean I wanted you in my life again.”

Abby hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’m free,” you muttered, inhaling sharply. “You and her wanted to keep me in a cage, keep me locked up forever. You have done it ever since you stepped into my life, and I couldn’t see it until that evening.”

“You make it sound so horrible, bunny,” she breathily chuckled, able to hear Ellie’s own laughter roughly in the background. “Let me ask you again; who’s going to put up with you? Who was fucking there when Miranda Rhodes was fucking spilling rumors about you having eating disorders? Who the fuck handled Timothy Yales after he said he had sex with you after Winter formal?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!” You shouted, millions of emotions flooding over you, and taking you at once, drowning “I never once fucking told you or Ellie to go out of your way to do that shit! I can fucking handle myself, and being away from you both has proved that.”

“Oh, bunny. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Abby stated, sharp and clear with you. She talked as if you were dumb, that you were about out of your mind.

You could nearly burst apart, everything of you filled with terror and rage. You weren’t sure if they expected you to bow at their feet for all their maniacal endeavors they willingly decided to partake in, but you weren’t going to.

You had come this far without them, you had managed to escape them for a good time, and you weren’t planning on stopping everything now. You weren’t going to surrender your freedom and life all for them, all because you knew what they were, and what they could do.

“If I have to turn in that shirt to make sure I never see either of you ever again, I will,” you said, and hung up the call, dropping your phone back into your lap, and continued to drive back home.

The moment your car was parked, you rushed up the stairs of the building, and bursted through your front door. Your guards were all there, Rosaline getting finished up with your second suitcase as Carson approached you from the side.

“Miss, we have searched the area,” he stated, following you while you walked into your bedroom. “We found no sort of threat, especially here. I have called your family’s plane to be prepped and ready for take off to Los Angeles.”

“Carson, please close the door,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your naked bed. He listened, shutting it, leaving you and him in your bedroom as you looked up at him. “I need to ask a question, and this stays between us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, ma’am. I am under your and your parents serving,” he reassured, keeping himself near the door, a secure radius between the both of you.

“Is it possible for me to avoid the law? Few months ago, I may or may have not tampered with evidence,” you blurted, and he inhaled heavily, but nodded, tuned in with you. “My reason is so stupid, but I’m regretting keeping it in my possession, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well, what is it?” He wondered.

“A shirt,” you began, and he cocked his head to the side. “With blood on it. Someone’s blood who isn’t mine, because my ex-girlfriends in New York beat this dude who was harassing me.”

“And you want to turn this in now?” Carson asked, and you nodded. “Okay, miss. I’m going to see what I can do, and once I do, you can hand it over to me.”

“Thank you so much, Carson,” you smiled, standing up. “Now, let’s head to the city of angels.”

You had your own bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It was cozy and spacious, everything to your liking, but only stayed at it when you wanted to escape home. You had once brought Abby and Ellie, and to that, you had to undergo a whole alias, and a different room.

You didn’t have much anxiety about being at Chateau, you were packed with protection, and knew the pair wouldn’t make so much time or risks since their trial had concluded, also sure that Abby understood your threat about the shirt.

You had flown late into the night, it was about three in the morning of the next day, and you were drained with exhaustion. Sleep was becoming you, yet you were on high alert, and couldn’t help but to keep checking your phone.

You worried that there would be another call, or a text; that they weren’t quite finished with their game. In your isolation, you had much time to mull over Abby and Ellie, the things they were capable of, or the people they were.

You knew blood and carnage were them. Their beauty and charm was a simple mask that only you were able to see past as violence and cruelty rotted in their souls. Maybe they couldn’t help how callous and aggressive they could be, but they lived off of it; it was all they were. There was nothing to stop them, nothing that could change them.

In a sense, you assumed your presence and soul balanced them out well — you were a complete polar opposite to them, and that’s what stood out to people at Faye Academy.

They were terrorizing, vicious females, standing with you — a loving, and free-spirited person who didn’t do much, and just kept to herself. Nobody understood or could comprehend it, but that didn't matter to them — you were the solace in their life.

You knew that they were still rough with people — mostly men — in high school, but you didn’t know you were the cause behind each act of violence that they performed. But it made sense, even as you built a timeline.

There was Teresa Doles; she had nitpicked at your appearance for weeks. When you had finally gone to Ellie and Abby about it, pictures of her partying, doing drugs, and medical records of her being in rehab had been leaked everywhere. Her family came from a prestigious lineage, and her reckless behavior put a great indent to it. She had to move to England.

Jonathan White had to be admitted to the hospital after an event for the school. Doctors said they found traces of drugs and poison in his system — which made you laugh because he said he would murder you for rejecting him for Junior prom. You recall him shouting at you, calling you a series of derogatory names, but paid no mind. Ellie and Abby weren’t happy when he told you such a thing.

Kayla Lynn was sent to the ER after her body had been found beaten and bloody in the bathroom. She was barely conscious, unrecognizable to those who found her — the doctors had to pull a tooth and fingerprints from her just to get an ID. You remembered how she bullied you for liking girls, calling you derogatory names, and even said she hoped you would be killed for it.

And you knew there just had to be more than those people. So many of your bullies either switched schools, dropped off the face of Earth, or were in physical therapy after you had told Abby and Ellie about what each of those people did to you.

You were too gullible and head over heels in love with the duo to know they were doing so much behind your back. You had been completely tuned in with love and the relationship, all you saw was them as your blessing.

They meant it when they said they would do anything for you.

“We handled it,” Ellie’s voice would play in your head from that morning. It would repeat itself like a broken record, never shutting up.

We handled it.

We handled it.

We murdered someone.

You didn’t know exactly why the murder scared you, or what provoked you to exactly take the shirt.

You were about to close your eyes until a knock tapped at your door. “Ma’am, it’s Carson,” he said, and you welcomed him in, sitting up on your bed.

You turned on the nightstand's lamp, and he gave you a small smile. “I found a way to submit the evidence without it being traced to you,” Carson said, and your heartbeat went still. “If only you’re wanting to give up the shirt, of course.”

“Well, that was quick,” you nervously laughed, staring down at your lap. “What’s the plan to turn it in?”

“I have trusted connections to the NYPD. Some officers work as guards like I do,” Carson reassured, and you hummed, chewing on your lower lip. “We can send the shirt to them as anonymous, and you won’t have to worry about the shipping coming back to you; it’ll be under my name.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said, and your body trembled, mind hazy. You knew it would be the moral thing to do; the guy harassed you, but Ellie and Abby could’ve done anything else besides murder.

The only murder you were aware of, of course.

These girls protected and defended you and your name. They would put the world on fire, yet never let a flame brush on your skin; they were the poisonous paradise you couldn’t see as Heaven or Hell.

You had to release them, though. You needed to grow up without them by your side, because you were more than them, and they were more than you.

And if the shirt didn’t get them anywhere, at least it was out of your grasp.

You got up from your bed, padding over to your suitcase and opened it up. You grabbed a brown paper bag, and held it close to your chest. “Please make sure I don’t get in trouble for this,” you said, pleading eyes looking into Carson’s soft ones.

He could tell you were beyond frightened. That you were just someone who didn’t mean to do this, that your kind heart thought you were doing something right.

You had absolutely nothing to do with this crime, but somehow, you looked ashamed and guilty as if you did. In a sense, you were — you called Abby about the guy, you knew very well what she was capable of. It was no secret how violent and cruel Abby and Ellie could be — physically or emotionally.

“You’re safe with me,” Carson promised, and you smiled small, hesitantly handing him the bag. “Are you sure about this?”

The bag was out of your hold, Carson grasping onto it. “They need to learn their lesson,” you said, all your logic and thoughts mixed up in your head, utterly brainless at this given rate. “And I just want them to stay out of my life for good.”

He just nodded, taking the bag with him as he exited the room, leaving you alone again.

You couldn’t sleep after that. You couldn’t even try to rest knowing you were going to ruin their lives, putting into consideration all they did for you.

But, you had just regained your freedom, discovered who you were without them. You were able to make friends without their eyes boring into your soul, you could live in peace.

You couldn’t accept anymore threats or violence, just so you could remain theirs forever. Because you knew if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t put you in harm's way.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in your mind when your phone had a sudden ring to it. Your heart stopped, and you froze, your body wanting to sink into the mattress.

You let your phone ring through, letting silence fall pass after the noise stopped.

Not even a minute ticked by as the phone rang again.

You reached for your device, answering the call and brought it up to your ear. “What?”

“So much attitude, little lamb. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” Ellie's voice came through, and you sighed, sitting up. “I’m starting to like this game. Because I know you’re fucking scared.”

You scoffed. “No I’m not. I’m just wanting you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t deal with the idea of what might happen if we catch you,” she began, and shivers cascaded on your body, holding in your breath. “You want to keep running, baby? I don’t mind the chase— it’s exhilarating.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“You knew that, bunny,” Abby joined in, taking over the call. “Why are you acting so surprised? You fucking got off on how insane we got about you, don’t act clueless now.”

“I was naive,” you retorted. “I was manipulated and blinded by you two.”

“Manipulated? Big idea for you to get at,” she continued, and you heard Ellie’s cruel laugh in the background of the call. “You knew what you were doing when coming to us about your bullies. You knew what we all would get out of it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered.

“You liked us hurting you too, bunny,” she stated, and your breaths were becoming uneven. “Always in skimpy outfits, flirting with others to get our attention. We fucking saw through you. You’re just as sick as us.”

“Shut the fuck up, Abigail!”

“Using my full name? I’m so frightened,” Abby chuckled, amused and lightened by your poor intimidation act. “Got me shaking in my boots here, sweetheart.”

“I hope you die— both of you.”

“God forbid, right? Then who’ll take care of you?” Ellie returned into the conversation. “Not even that Delilah bitch could do it. Or Holly, Nicole, Emily, Zaya— no one.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know them?”

“Baby, we told you this,” Ellie reminded you, sighing. “If you were to leave us, we would get you again.”

You zipped your mouth, anxiety surging through you.

“Having fun at the Marmont?” Ellie asked, and you shot up from your bed. “Nice name you got— Emily Dickinson. Really… that name?”

“You’re fucking here?” You asked.

Ellie snickered. “Always in your corner.”

“I have people here, patrolling—“

“Oh, we get it, you fucking princess!” She yelled. “We know you have men, we aren’t idiots. For a valedictorian, you are sure fucking dense. You think you’re always one step ahead, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, Williams,” you sneered.

“See you real soon, lamb,” she said, and the call ended. You knew there was no point in trying to reach the number again, it was unknown and a useless line.

Ellie and Abby stood at the top of the hotel, Delilah beaten as cable ties strapped her wrists behind her back. “Alright, you bitch,” Abby picked up Delilah from the ground, adjusting the feeble girl on her feet.

“She’s…. she’ll hate you for this,” Delilah croaked out. “And no one will believe I’ve jumped to my death.” Her head was spinning, barely conscious enough to process what these two random, strange women wanted with her, or why they cared so much. She swore a second ago she was in her flat, sound asleep and relaxed, and now she was on top of the roof of the Chateau Marmont.

None of this made sense.

“We are going to share this little secret with you since you will be dying,” Ellie said, taking out a cigarette from her pocket. “You’re not the first person who has pleaded for their life, or thought their death wouldn’t be convincing. We do this all for her, and unfortunately, she does enjoy it.”

Delilah shook her head. “No, no. You don’t know her whatsoever.”

“She brought you here to your death, sweet Delilah,” Ellie continued on, puffing out a blow. “She knows that whoever tries to steal or touch her, will be either beaten or killed by us.”

“She wanted you dead,” Abby added, and Delilah broke into hysterical sobs. “And we do give our girl whatever she wants.”

Ellie cut off the cable ties, and Abby maneuvered the frail girl over to the ledge. “Anything else you need to say, honey?” Abby asked, and Delilah’s lips parted, prepared to speak. “I don’t give a shit,” the blonde said, pushing her off as her and Ellie watched attentively, grinning to themselves as Delilah’s body splat on the concrete, blood making a river around herself.

It wasn’t long until your guards were shouting, and there were sirens in the distance.

“Ma’am, there’s been an incident on the grounds,” Carson bursted into your room, and you swallowed thickly, your phone grasped in your hands.

You threw on a robe and your slippers, pushing your way through the men. “Let me go!” You shouted, Carson being the one to shove them off. “I need to see what happened outside!”

“It’s for your safety that you don’t!” One of the men, Jackson, protested, but Carson seized your arm, and tugged you outside by your bicep.

“We listen to her,” he reminded the group as they all followed you outside. You could hear a wave of voices and distress, police officers talking to one another. In your gut, you knew something wasn’t right, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

The noise drew you closer to the entrance of the hotel, where a symphony of shouts were clattering, and police lights mixed into the moon’s gleam. A part of you told yourself to get back into your abode, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your feet tugged your forward, curiosity tingling in your body.

You shoved yourself through a heavy crowd, officers trying to get everyone to back away or stop filming what was happening.

“Excuse me!” You yelled, and pulled yourself further in.

You regretted listening to yourself for another time. Fiery and stressed voices shifted into echoes, banging off the earth’s walls, your eyes struck open by a corpse splashed on the pavement.

Your heart beated in your throat, vomit coating it, and knots twisted in your stomach.

Delilah.

Delilah was on the ground. In front of you.

Your brain didn’t dare register any part of the gory, morbid scene that was plastered in front of you. Blood pooled around her head, her scalp visibly cracked open and her eyes open. You swore she was staring at you, everything in you shaking and trembling with great fear.

“Ma’am, get back!” An officer shouted at you, taking you out of your trance. “Please, this is a crime scene!”

“I… I know her,” you stated, and Carson approached your side. “That’s my friend— her name is Delilah Morse.”

“Please sir, let us get through,” Carson chimed in, and the officer sighed, shaking his head. “This is someone she knows. Only she’ll give you details.”

The officer went to discuss with another official, and your hand buzzed. You flinched to it, not realizing you kept your phone in your hold.

You received a message from Unknown.

Unknown: Want to keep playing, baby?

Unknown: Look at you, so scared and sick. It’ll stop once you give up.

A tear from you covered the screen, and Carson had to push you out of your stare. “Ma’am, let’s go,” he said, and you had not realized the officer was holding up the caution tape to let you through.

You heard a female’s voice come to the side of you. “I’m Detective Anna Blake. What’s your name, and relationship to the victim, miss?”

You stated your name, your voice hush and shaky as you couldn’t look away from Delilah’s body.

“And your relationship?” Anna asked.

“We… I was her friend,” you answered. “What… what did she do?”

“It looks like an apparent suicide,” she responded, and that was enough for her to gain your full attention, a confused expression plastered on your face. “She dropped from the rooftop, and ate it right here.”

“That can’t be,” you shook your head. “Delilah wasn’t at all suicidal, or had any ideations. She was the most positive person I knew.”

“Yeah, but people have personas,” Anna stated, and you furrowed your brows. “She could’ve been acting for you, and everyone else.”

“She’s from London, Detective,” you said, and she stared at you appalled, but intrigued. “She wouldn’t kill herself here.”

Anna was quiet for a sparse second. “Huh… do you know something we don’t?”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up?

There was an open entrance for the vehicles to come through, and for a moment, you swore you saw Ellie and Abby standing across the street.

You knew their silhouettes. And they were watching you, witnessing their crime.

You stared at them back, because now you accepted the truth that no matter where you ran off, that would be there. They would create mess and murder back to back until you gave up the running, and realized you only belonged to them.

Fear was a disease in you, and the only way to kill it was to face them.

Your mother wanted you back in New York. She gave you no choice but to attend the Gala with her and your father.

You tried your best to talk your way out of it, explaining that you had just witnessed your best friend’s corpse the previous evening.

Your mother said the Gala would be a great distraction. You tried to make any point or excuse to stay home, until your father had himself step into the argument. He tended to never insert himself into fights with you and your mom, but this time he felt the need to, and that’s when you were left with no choice.

Of course, your main concern was that Ellie and Abby were going to be there, and confronting them was going to be an inevitable situation. You had to prepare yourself the most as to what to say or do if they were to be in your eye radius.

“This dress is killing me,” you muttered, patting down the bottom part of the simple, yet elegant dress you wore. “And the corset of this is smashing my boobs.”

“Your dress is lovely, dear,” your mother assured, and you scowled. “You have always loved long dresses like this; so long at the bottom, we can’t even see your heels. And you always adored sleeveless corset tops on them, too!”

“You look perfect, honey. You wore this exact dress for junior prom,” your dad reminded, and you shivered to the memory of it. Abby and Ellie were your escort — of course — and everyone adored your dress, even making it into a page in Vogue because it was Vivienne Westwood.

“I just… I don’t want to see them,” you muttered, and the limousine came to a halt. “And it just doesn’t feel right being here, having fun and socializing, when my friend just fucking died.”

“Cherie, Delilah’s death was not your fault or anything,” your mother said, and you glared at her. “It is unfortunate it took place at the same time you were there, but she was just an unhappy girl.”

You didn’t want to converse with her anymore, only getting out of the car before any of them, and were immediately blinded by flashing lights. Your parents stood behind you, and you fixed up a promising smile, making your way into the gala.

The second cameras and screaming men were out of your way, you hunted down a busboy for a glass of champagne. “I will take that!” You grabbed the drink from the silver tray, thanking the man, and earned a groan from your parents.

“Can you at least greet people before you get wasted?” Your father asked, and you shrugged, letting him drag you over to the familiar faces of Jerry Anderson and Joel Miller. You hadn’t seen them since the few days before the murder.

“Ah, there she is!” Jerry exclaimed, and you exchanged a cheek kiss with him, and Joel. “We heard you moved to London. Oxford, right?”

“Yes. It’s been quite delightful,” you shortly shared. “I finished exams early, so I came back into town for the meantime.”

“And do you plan to catch up with the girls?” Joel asked.

You knew at that moment that no one quite understood what really took place that night, and you would never confess to it. They all blindly assumed that there was a great falling out in response to the murder of Brandon James, that you simply didn’t tolerate that behavior, and in some parts of that, it was true.

You had no place or reason to tell the whole truth, or to be honest, when there was an exact, appropriate place to share such a thing. Yet however, if you did, no one would believe you — there was no evidential proof or key to say that Ellie and Abby killed him.

They thought the girls were saints, who were being wronged by another higher power.

The actual case would have them dropping to the ground, and you couldn’t exactly say, “Abby and Ellie are sadistic killers who get off to the pain and torture.”

God fucking forbid, though.

“I’m not so sure,” you answered, taking a light sip of your champagne. “I want to keep to myself for the meantime, and make more goals for my future.”

“Well, if they came tonight, I’m sure it would’ve been lovely,” Jerry said, and you dryly laughed with them.

Champagne wasn’t enough to fill the hollow in you. You needed the strongest shit to exist at the bar.

You had a clear cue to let yourself leave their conversation, leaving you alone in the event. You went to the bar, and sat there, requesting a martini. You put your clutch purse in front of you, and sighed heavily, a migraine coming to your head.

You weren’t used to going to these high class functions by yourself — hell, you didn’t even go until the girls became a part of your life, and would be by your side at each and every one of them. It made your parents happy that they were there to tug you out of your shell, make you more extroverted.

A figure sat at the chair next to you, yet you didn’t pay any mind to it.

Until they said your name, and the voice was familiar.

Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw Dina. Your eyes widened, your body directing toward her, and she smiled. “How have you been!” She cheered, pulling you into a hug, and you could only hug back. “You fell off the face of planet Earth!”

“Oh, yeah,” you broke the hug, facing her. “I… I decided to do school at Oxford. I just needed to get out of the city.”

“Oxford is nice,” she said, smiling small. “Jesse and I were worried about you. The girls said you had broken up with them.”

You gawked at her in disbelief as she went on to order herself a drink.

Who else was fucking clueless?

“Well, I guess,” you mumbled, your martini set down in front of you. “We just had issues we couldn’t resolve from the night before.”

“Oh shit, that sucks,” she sighed, shaking her head. “The breakup must have been terrible to have you move to London.”

Her glass of tequila on rocks came to her as she took a refreshing sip of it, and you were about to claw out your eyes. Either she had brain damage, was lying, or truly wasn’t aware of what occurred that night, but must have since it happened at Jesse’s club.

“Dina Woodward, be fucking serious with me,” you said, and she raised a brow. “You know what happened. That night.”

She blankly stared at you.

“That night… at your boyfriend’s club…”

Dina shrugged, and you were taken aback. “Jesse must know, then.”

“Ellie and Abby were accused of a serious crime,” she began, and you bitterly scoffed, “which they were found innocent to. They had to go through that trial alone, they went through Hell without you.”

“They killed him, Dina,” you told her, yet lowered your voice due to the gossip crowd that circulated. “You cannot seriously be defending them.”

“I’m not defending them,” Dina stated, and you rolled your eyes, downing your martini. “They have plenty of enemies, and you know that, too. Everyone wants to see them at their absolute worst, and do their own dirty work to make it happen.”

You got up from your seat, grabbing your purse. “It was nice seeing you, Dina.”

You shoved your way through the bustling crowd, and were stuck in the middle as soon as your phone began to buzz.

“Not this shit again,” you mumbled to yourself, and pulled out your phone, putting it up to your ear. “What the fuck can I do for you?”

“You look pretty, sweetheart,” Ellie said. “Don’t you worry, we aren’t in your vicinity.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking pleased to hear that,” you exasperated, rubbing your temple in frustration. “Then how do you know I’m here?”

“You’re right, my apologies,” Ellie laughed, and you heard rustling over the line.

“Bunny, we are going to play a game,” Abby came to the line, and your heart jumped rapidly. “We can see you, but we’ve made sure you can’t catch a glimpse of us.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You still don’t get it, darling. But that’s okay,” she took a hast pause, collecting her thoughts. “We told you many times that if you were to run, we would catch you, because you are ours. You can hide, change your name, go to different universities, but we will always be there.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing you were getting stares to your frightened look on your face.

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you, they only kept you away so their image wouldn’t be ruined,” she said, and you knew that was more than true; your parents would do anything to remain prestigious and clean, and you were the taint in their life. “You said you kept that shirt to return the favor, but there’s more than that.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Anderson,” you scoffed, and she hummed. “I gave that shirt away; you and Ellie are going to prison for good.”

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” she said, and the line went flat. You rushed yourself to the ladies room, nausea building in you as the room spun, and your nerves weakened your muscles. Laughter and shouts from strangers rang in your ears as you dragged yourself further to the bathroom, and the sickening gut feeling came back to you.

You couldn’t pull apart if you were truly just sick to your stomach, or your intuition was stronger than ever.

You pushed the door open to the ladies room, and to your luck, it was completely empty. You lunged yourself into a stall, and collapsed down on your knees, yucking it up into the toilet. Your anxiety and worry got the best of you, making you a mess so easily, and you were embarrassed by it.

You stood up after a few minutes, taking in slow, steady breaths, and gathered yourself, standing back up. You moved over to the sink, and settled your purse down, opening it up to grab your lipstick. You rinsed out your mouth with the faucet water, and sighed heavily, turning off the sink.

You reapplied your scarlet red lipstick, and put the item back into your purse, along with your phone.

Then a click was made from the side of you, gaining your attention.

The nausea came back, but not in a wave, yet in a violent crash. You swore your heart stopped for a moment, but could hear it violently beat in your eardrums while bile stung inside your throat, threatening to come out again.

Your body trembled, knees about to bring you down, and all you wanted to do was die at this very moment.

“Hey, little lamb,” Ellie said, grinning in pride. Your body pressed back against the sink’s counter, and tears approached over your eyes as you stared at her. “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“No… no,” you said, able to take yourself to the bathroom’s entrance. You opened it, only to be met with Abby instead, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You are both not here.”

“Oh, but we are,” Abby said, moving forward in sync to your steps going backwards. She maintained a fairly safe distance, but one close enough to grab you if you tried to run. “Why so surprised, bunny? We promised this.”

Something about them was gravely different this time. There was a darker energy to them, a sense of evil and anger heating off of them as they stared at you down in the way the predator does when they have finally cornered their prey.

Yes, they got you, and you had no way out anymore — what a fucking terrifying and cruel revalation.

The cat got their little mouse, right by the tail.

You had fallen right into their trap perfectly, in all the ways they wanted you to. It took great cunning patience and practice to get you in this position, to have you trapped.

You were beyond scared; this was the reoccurring nightmare you dreamt of since the night you left. You always tried to consider or plan out what you would do if they were to approach you in any way, but you never paid mind to how methodical and intelligent they were.

You doubted their skills and abilities, and you were dumb to think they wouldn’t get you any time soon, that you would be free from them for a few more months, maybe a year or two – maybe even a lifetime — you wished and prayed upon it.

You were stuck now. The cat and mouse game came to their precise ending.

“Are you going to kill me now?” You asked, and they hummed, shrugging to themselves.

“Well, if we wanted that, we would have done it back in LA,” Abby said, and your eyes averted back and forth between them, trying to see if there was a possible way out. “Or back in London, who knows. We had so many open opportunities to kidnap you, but we liked this little game.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do now? Kidnap me?” You asked, snickering dryly. “Keep me hostage forever? Wouldn’t be anything new to me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Ellie told you, tilting her head to the side. “You liked this claim we have on you. You will never admit it and that’s okay, because we know it, baby.”

“Now let’s not be so rude,” Abby said, and you glanced at her. “Let’s say bye to our guests, and go back home, little bunny.”

Ellie and Abby had seemed to have enough time to decorate the penthouse. To your last memory of it, only the shared bedroom was furnished, and now, they had everything perfectly perched in precise spots.

You sat in the living room, on the black velvet couch as you stared out the window with a mindfulness of thoughts. The city was bustling, sirens louder than ever, and traffic stacked up. You tried to concentrate on the noise outside because it would be last time you would hear it.

The pair had finished fixing themselves up a drink, returning to the room, and sat across from you. You didn’t pay attention to them, fits of rage and terror consuming you inside. You don’t know why you thought you would actually escape them, and you had only dug yourself in a deep grave.

The familiar silence moved through the home, and you could feel their eyes spiking into you, waiting for you to say something. You had more than to say and ask, but you didn’t know where exactly to start, or if you were allowed to question certain things.

“You killed Delilah,” you blurted out, your eyes averting from the window. “You killed Brandon James, and many others, I assume.”

“We have,” Ellie answered, drinking her bourbon.

“I don’t get why. Why do you kill people? How do you even get away with it?” You asked, and Abby glanced over at Ellie, communicating to each other through their eyes. “Are you in like a fucking cartel or some shit?”

“Joel didn’t have an easy time getting to where he is,” Ellie began, setting her glass down, and slouched back on the couch. “He has some connections, and so does Jerry. It’s hard to get into it all, but they were doing illegal shit on the side to get money, build their legacies.”

“We didn’t kill until you,” Abby said, and you raised a brow, positioning your body in their direction. They could tell you were now intrigued, and you were; you were more than curious. “It was two months into knowing you, and you told us about Rachel Wayne. Remember her?”

“Of course I do. That bitch bullied me like it was her life’s purpose,” you lightly joked, and she sighed. “Why?”

“It was the day when she beat you in the girl’s bathroom, ramming your face into the blow dryer all because you got a higher score on your SAT,” Abby said, and you hissed at the memory. You were a good fighter, but Rachel’s envy possessed her strength that day, and she kicked you around like an animal in the bathroom.

She locked the door, keeping her friends, you, and herself locked in, while they recorded the whole moment. You went home with a concussion, a busted face, and cried to the girls about it.

“We were so fucking pissed,” Ellie said, scoffing to herself. “We knew Rachel well. We invited her over to my place, and made small talk, getting the information out of her about what occurred. We got names, and everything.”

You remained quiet, but stayed tuned in and fully focused.

“We got her high off cocaine, and once she was zoned out, we beat the fuck out of her,” she explained, and your heart thumped against your chest, about to pop out. “She was crying, and screaming; but it made us think of how that was you previously because of her. Our anger overrode us to the edge, and we started cracking her body in. We didn’t know we had killed her until she was completely fucking limp.”

“Those who had the video were dealt with too,” Abby assured. “If they refused to delete it, we made sure their lives would be ruined, their parents would be left with nothing. We knew how to obliterate these spoiled fucks.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. It was rumored that Rachel ran away to her boyfriend in Spain, and refused to come back because her parents were assholes to her, and just a straight disappointment to them. “How did you clean up your tracks?”

“Well, I called Joel in a panic, and told him everything,” Ellie answered, finishing her drink. “Joel told Abby and I to get ourselves cleaned up, and these men came over like an hour later, picking up after us.”

“They wiped our phones and tracks completely,” Abby said, and slid you forward her glass of whiskey. “And then we did it again, and Joel quickly realized we were doing it for you. He saw that you were our purpose, so he let us use his connections, and everything.”

“He was worried everything was going to collapse the second the cops came about Brandon,” Ellie recalled, and took out a fresh cigarette. “That was a mess we had to fix, of course. Like, I’d never seen Joel so pissed off before, it was insane.”

“How did you get away with the murder?” You questioned.

“Easy shit,” Abby laughed, shrugging. “He had himself in rough, bad business. We basically found someone who he owed money to, planted all the evidence and shit on that dude.”

“Now that motherfucker is serving life,” Ellie lit up the stick, inhaling sharply. “We made sure it wouldn’t come back to us.”

“But the shirt,” you reminded them, and they stared at you for a moment before aweing at your little tactic. “The shirt is with the cops.”

“Is it, though?” Abby teased, and a faint ding of the penthouse elevator chimed, footsteps approaching into the living room. “Right on time, too! God, I fucking love dramatics.”

Your eyes shifted to the noise, a broad and muscular figure walking to everyone; and you swore it was the night you were going to go into shock, or have an aneurysm.

Carson stood before you with the shirt in a clear zipped bag, and Abby stood up. “Thank you so much,” she grinned, and Ellie shook his head. “Your money has been transferred to your offshore account.”

“What the fuck?” You blurted, Carson directing his eyes towards you. “You knew?”

“I’m the one who’s been cleaning up their messes,” he admitted, and Abby opened up the bag, taking out the shirt. “It didn’t take much to convince your parents to hire me. I just needed a believable resume.”

You shot up from the couch, staring him down. “You told them where I was at, and everything! You are a fucking narc!”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Carson dryly chuckled, amused by your terrified expression. “They were able to do that all on their own; I just gave them the starting point, and left it at that.”

You smacked him, the skin contact echoing in the home. He only laughed, finding you childish and weak, and shrugged. “I’ll have you fucking killed!”

“Loved to see you try,” he said, and took his exit, waving to the pair. You stared at where he was in utter shock, widely appalled with slight betrayal hitting your heart. You had trusted Carson wholeheartedly, felt secure and safe with him, and it all was a blinding lie.

Ellie started up the fireplace, and your eyes flickered to the ghostly fire. “No, no!” You shouted, trying to seize the shirt from Abby, but the auburn haired girl entrapped you in her hold, forcing you to watch the shirt to be burned.

“You know, I hope you start to learn tonight,” Abby tossed the shirt into the fire, and you wailed, thrashing in Ellie’s arms, yet it was pointless; in every way, they would always be stronger, you being a weakling.

The shirt crinkled and disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Ellie let go of you, and you glared at her. “We aren’t done talking,” she settled you back on the couch, and Abby brought a glass of chardonnay to you. “Now we want our answers.”

“I’ll fuck you up!” You spat, and they tried not to laugh. “What else shit do you have to say?”

“What did you expect to happen when you came to us about your bullies?” Abby asked, genuine and engrossed. “Did you think we would just have chit chats?”

You took a second to yourself, and you stared down at your lap, fidgeting at your dress. Before Abby and Ellie came into your life for good, they were notorious at the academy, and held that title with such pride. You knew what they were capable of, what they could do, and you saw them as your defenders from everything.

Did a part of you know what you were doing? Yes, but not that it would lead them to murder. You never understood or knew why they were so fixated on you, even before they decided to lure you into their lives. They had been riveted by you, and there was not a clear indication as to why, but you used it to your full advantage.

Your parents didn’t care about you, and they knew that. All three of you played a dangerous, deadly role in the relationship; it was volatile and brutal, but it was all you had, and they were all you wanted.

You spent so much time running and hiding from them, you never took a particular moment to realize your role in everything. You took that shirt because it was a part of you; you had Brandon killed, he was a deadman the second you called Abby about him.

You were just as guilty as them, you were just as part of their games and murder.

No one else was going to do this for you, nobody would burn and tear apart the Earth just to have you in their grasp again.

“There’s our girl,” Abby cooed, and you looked up at them, tears in your eyes. “You finally understand. After these years, now it has come to you.”

“You gave us the cards, we just played them the way you liked,” Ellie said, and you downed the chardonnay, exhaling shakily as you set it down. “We knew you were too much like us, we couldn’t deny you anymore. We had to have you.”

“Every time you said we handled it,” you sucked in a hard, jagged breath, “was that code for ‘we killed someone”?”

“What else would it mean, princess?” She mused, burning her cigarette out alas in the ashtray on the coffee table.

A silence slowly creeped into the room, crinkling of the fire and outside traffic filling it as it lasted what felt like moments.

“You know the first time we say you — God, we just knew we had to have you,” Abby spoke, and your eyes trained focused on them. “You hypnotized us by simply existing, by being in our vicinity. It was like we were blessed to come across one of God’s angels.”

You were always sure that they were attracted to you because you simply co-existed within their class status, and because they knew you were the only girl at Faye Academy that wasn’t corrupted or tainted. You were like this fresh breath for them to use — and you still thought like that after everything they had done for you, and even prove that they did love you beyond your body.

“Why me?” You asked.

“We don’t know what you did to simply draw us in, but we couldn’t resist. Every time I saw you in class, in your nicely ironed pleated skirt, in your dark blue polo sweater… your makeup done so pretty…” Ellie reminisced, a crude grin playing onto her lips as she recalled the first moment she laid eyes on you. “You were so pure, so perfect for us. It was no longer about wanting you, it was about needing you — we had to; everyday that passed by where you weren’t in our grasp, we could almost die from it.”

“You will never truly know how much you have us at our knees for you, sweetheart, and that’s okay,” Abby said, and you sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing you had been barely breathing the entire time they spoke about you. “But understand the risks we would go through for you; we live and breathe you. We crave and yearn for you, despite the fact you are already ours. What is our purpose if you simply don’t exist in our lives?”

There was not much you could say to that, only able to break down. They sat up from the couch, and Ellie reached her hand out for yours, softly looking at you.

“Let’s go upstairs, baby,” she gently spoke to you, and peered up, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with hers. She walked you with her, Abby trailing close behind as an easy quietude settled in place, though your sniffles were the only thing to be heard.

Walking into the bedroom, you were momentarily paralyzed by the memory of your last moment in it. You were on that same bed when you put all the pieces together, and had left them with no letter or anything; you took your absence, and that was that.

Ellie guided you over to the wall mirror, her and Abby brushing up close on your back, the two attentively admiring you. “We would do anything for you, sweet girl,” Abby said, and your sobs slowly came to a halt. “We’ll always happily be your executioner, for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re our girl,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I think you need a fresh reminder of what you put us through.” Her hand hid behind her for a moment, grabbing something from the back of her jeans. A gun came into your vision, and your breath hitched, but she kept it by her side.

Your neck was met with Abby’s soft lips, her warm breath fanning against your skin, and her fingers loosened the strings of the corset. You softly moaned, Ellie fixated on the sight of you easily falling apart to Abby’s kissing, and grinned to herself. “Doesn’t take much to have you under us,” she said, and you eyed her, nodding.

The dress was undone, and easily dropped off your body, the duo getting the view they had longed for all this time. You were bare and exposed, only in underwear, and a primal urge had shadowed over them, wanting to ruin you without any thought.

“Oh, bunny,” Abby whispered. “Just as perfect as we remembered.”

Her lips separated from your marked neck, and you whimpered as Ellie pressed her gun to your abdomen. “What a sweet sight that I will never get tired of,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Seeing you fucking petrified as if we will kill you at any moment.”

“But you won’t,” you retorted. “Right?”

“No,” she promised as the gun was slowly dragged to your temple, and she clicked the trigger, only for the barrel to be empty. You flinched to the trigger, your heart racing. “But we will hurt you, I can assure you that, little lamb.”

She used the gun to steer you to the foot of the bed. “On your fucking knees,” Abby demanded, and you collapsed to them, your knees thudding against the cold, hard granite tiles. “Anytime you stop, we use this gun, and you can find out yourself if the barrel is cleaned out.”

“Yes, mommy,” you muttered, and they amusingly hummed. Ellie kept the gun in position, using one hand to unbuckle her belt, and strip off her jeans as Abby did the same. It was a rare thing for them to have their straps under their pants, only if they knew they would have to handle you at any given moment, and this was one of them. You were going to come crawling back, and they were prepared for it, to claim and destroy you all in one.

“Mama gets to have you first,” Ellie said, and you parted your mouth open, Abby’s stuffing your mouth full with her cock, careless to your gagging. She had her way with you, her hand holding the top of your head as she thrusted herself into your mouth, trying your best to not pull back and gasp for air. The gun was there to keep you place, and you couldn’t ignore how it pressed deeply into the side of your head.

“That’s right, baby. Fuckin��� whore,” Abby said, and you tried to best out of your nose, desperate for more air. You used whatever strength you had, forcing your head back, and engulfed amounts of oxygen into your lungs. “What the fuck did we say?”

The trigger was pressed, and your ears rang with it. Empty, again.

“You’ve been away too long, princess,” Ellie said, and Abby retrieved your head, your mouth filled with the silicone object again. “Was too busy fucking other girls, huh? I bet they couldn’t make you like this; I can see you fucking dripping through your panties.”

Your arousal was a wildfire in you, spreading through your stomach, and down into your thighs. You could feel the mess you were making, seemingly ashamed and embarrassed how you got wet from their threats, with a gun pointed to you that was possibly clipped.

“There she is, now you are being good,” Abby praised, her thumb pressing away the tears that fell on your apple cheeks. “Always doing your best for us, hm? Knew you missed us too, baby.”

Ellie crouched down to your level, the gun lined up under your head as her grin turned into a twisted smirk. “All that we did for you, little one,” she mocked a frown, sighing. “And you just ran away like that? Coming home to find you gone, and betraying us?”

You were lightheaded and dizzy, your mind hazy, yet tried to stay focused. Your moans and whimpers gargled in your throat, drool running out of the corners of your mouth, and falling down onto your breasts.

“You belong to us, and you better start getting that through your fucking skull,” Ellie seethed, her bitter fury coating her mind. “You are only hurting yourself by doing the shit you do. A fucking brat you are.”

Abby decided to give up on you, your mouth hollow and free. She grabbed you by your throat, a sinister shade lingering in her eyes, and air whistled through her teeth. “Little bunny, you have no clue what you’ve done to yourself.”

You were put in the middle of the bed, and Ellie looked at her gun. “Let’s see if she can still take us,” she said, and Abby hummed, nodding. Ellie adjusted herself in between your legs, shoving them open, and stripped off your underwear, moaning at the sight of your cunt. “Fucking hell. She’s fucking soaking, babe.”

Abby had bunched ropes in her hand, kneeling into the bed, and stared at your cunt. “What a sick bitch you are, bunny,” she teased, running a finger down your slick folds, and you whined. “All of this from a gun, Ellie. She fucking loves it.”

Nothing else was said as Abby grasped onto your legs, and pushed your legs up against your chest. Her hands gripped on your wrists, having you hug the underneath of your legs, and made sure you kept yourself locked in the placement.

Ellie tied your wrists together, tight enough to not cut off any blood supply, and then went on to your ankles, knotting them in one. She used another string of rope to connect your ankles to your wrists, making your position trapped and stuck.

“We don’t want to hear you enjoying this,” Ellie said, and gave the gun over to Abby as the blonde sat herself in front of you. Ellie took off her strap, letting it drop to the ground, and took off her underwear, only to move herself over your face. She carefully lowered herself down on, and her aching cunt met your mouth as you obediently sucked and ran your tongue on it.

Abby slowly slipped the gun into you, yet you were soaked enough to let it easily be fucked into you. She pressed down onto your stomach as she rammed the cold weapon into your pussy, and you tried to muzzle your needy noises, tending to Ellie’s needs.

The auburn girl rutted herself against your mouth, eliciting shaky moans and cursed under her breath. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” she muttered, looking over at Abby while she continued to fist the gun into you.

You lathered Ellie’s slick on your tongue, pleased how it dripped over your lips as you moaned to the sweet taste of her. If your wrists weren’t restrained, you would keep your arms around her thighs just to eat her out for hours on end.

Abby and Ellie were intensely dominant, it was unwonted when you gave them pleasure. They were refusing about it, saying that you were the one who needed to be desired and tended to whenever you wanted to be.

You couldn’t tell if you were immensely desperate or if the gun was fucking you so well, that you were already at the peak of your climax. You denied your orgasm, needing to get Ellie to hers, and harshly ate her out, fucking her hole with your tongue, sending her into a moaning, pleading mess for you.

“Oh shit, sweetheart— yeah, keep going,” she softly moaned. “Being such a good girl for daddy, gonna make sure to cum in your pretty mouth.”

“She’s making a mess on your gun and sheets,” Abby said, and for a moment, your cunt was not filled until she pushed her cock into you. “There we fuckin’ go, this is exactly what she needs.”

Ellie craned her body near Abby, the two kissing each other in a sloppy manner as the blonde roughly fucked into you. Abby kept her close as Ellie’s jagged moans and whines breathed into her mouth, doing all she could to keep herself up and close.

“You going to cum, baby, hm?” Abby asked, and Ellie moaned against her lips, nodding. “Go on, cum for us. You can do it.”

Ellie’s orgasm came crashing down as she squirmed and cried out, twitching on your mouth. Ellie pushed herself up, kneeling beside your head and leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning at the taste of her. You sucked on each other’s tongues, Ellie slipping her hand down your stomach, and made way in between your thighs, rubbing your cunt.

She broke apart the kiss, her free hand gripping onto your jaw to make forced eye contact, and spat into your mouth. “Make us proud, baby. Want you to give daddy a good one,” she whispered, and you kept your eyes trained into hers as Abby pounded herself deeper into you, the squelching noises of your slick mixing in with your whimpers and throaty moans.

“So fucking tight, never gonna get enough of this perfect pussy,” Abby breathed, her hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Made just for us, sweet girl. Everything about you was made for us to worship and ruin.”

“No one fucked you like this back in London, huh?” Ellie asked, and you shook your head. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. Probably had to get off all by yourself while you thought of us, too.”

“Just… just thought of you two the entire time,” you confessed, brows knitted together. “I need you so bad, ‘m sorry.”

“We’re here, baby,” she said, kissing the side of your head. “Next time you try to escape, you’ll absolutely fucking regret it. Got that?”

You nodded, and a warm sensation kindled in the pits of your stomach, knowing the familiar feeling. You squirmed, and Abby glanced over at Ellie. “If she doesn’t understand, we’ll just beat it into her,” she said, making it a sincere promise, and a chaste kiss was made to your forehead. “I would hate to do that, but it might just happen.”

Your approaching orgasm made it too troubling to know if they would harm you in such a way, but you were at the point that you couldn’t put it past them.

“Cum for mommy,” Abby insisted, and you moaned, your hips jittering as your climax broke out of you, broken moans escaping from you. “That was fucking nothing, you crybaby.”

The cum from her strap leaked with yours, dripping out of your hole, and making a puddle in the bedsheets. She unknotted the ropes, tossing them to the ground shortly after, and massaged your wrists.

You laid there for a second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, the two confused by it.

“What?” Ellie bluntly asked.

“Surprised you even let me cum,” you said, laughing a little more. “Usually you have me work for it.”

Abby and Ellie looked at each other before their eyes went back to you as they puckered their lips in thought nodding to themselves. Ellie picked you up from the bed, and brought a violent backhand slap to your cheek, halting your laughter altogether.

“You want to keep fucking laughing!” She yelled, giving you another one. “You are even fucking lucky we are touching you. We could have had you strapped to a vibrator for hours, and hit you every time you tried to cum.” Your lightness turned into sobs, and you stared at her through glossy vision, your pout shaking on your lips. They had simply run over their limit and patience with you, and you no longer doubted the sadism they would lay on you.

Abby just stood by, soaking in your tears and how easy it was to crack you. It was enough for the both of them to get off. She took you from Ellie, putting your arms behind your back as her chest brushed up against it, and Ellie took off her shirt, harnessing back on her strap.

God, I know you hate me, you thought to yourself. But please, have mercy on me.

Abby spat down your ass, using the saliva as lubrication, and dipped you down onto her strap, your ass hole brutally being stretched open. She kept you steady and positioned right for Ellie, who was not far behind as she shoved her cock into you.

“Ride us, bitch,” Abby said, and you obliged, hissing under your breath. The pain lasted longer than you thought, tears flooding into your ears while their size brutalized your cunt. “Such a sensitive cry baby. So easy for us to break you.”

Your head fell back on her shoulder, looking up at her. “Please, mama. ‘M sorry, I’ll be so good for you.”

Ellie grabbed your jaw, a violent smack struck against your cheek. “You enjoy lying to us, all the fuckin’ time. We should’ve disposed of you a while ago, see how you would’ve done without us.”

“What a pity that would be,” Abby taunted, laughing breathily in your laugh. As they found humor at the thought of you being a lost lamb without them, you were ripping at the seams as you went on to ride them at a gentle pace for you, the discomfort shifting into grand pleasure. “I would like to see that. Maybe next time we will leave, have you feel what we did.”

“No no!” You cried, shaking your head, and broke into hysterical sobs. “Didn’t mean to go, swear I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ellie jested, that eerie smirk of hers resting on her lips. “Because who will put up with you? Make you feel like this? Give into your fucking sick desires?”

“That’s why you’re perfect for us,” Abby noted, her hand creeping up to your neck, and viciously gripped on your throat. “Just as twisted and fucked in the head as us, more than you’d care to admit. No one will want or need you the way we do.”

You refused to deny them that. They were what you craved, they were the epitome of your lust and dreams, everything you yearned for, and were the helping hand to expose who you were to yourself. You would’ve done the same as them if they tried to leave; you would fucking slaughter those who they cared for just to have them again.

A match made in the ninth circle of Hell.

Your next high came to you, making it easily known as your noises got high pitched, making it an indicator. “Let me cum, please,” you pleaded, sobbing. “Want to cum, I need to— I’ll do anything you want.”

“We like you this way, stupid whore,” Abby said, and made the gun useful again, pointing it to your ribcage. “You cum, I pull the trigger.”

You body tensed, and you nodded, trying to ignore your unbearable high as it was becoming raw ecstasy to you. Your thighs trembled, about to give up on you, and you looked at Ellie through wettened eyelashes, your face drenched with tears and sweat.

The bedroom was rare filth, you could smell sin and vices burning through it. Your life was in their hands in every literal sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you would rather die than not have them, and if that meant they would have to kill you themselves, you would let them. You were utterly nothing without them, and they knew it, too.

You had all the fucking wealth and privilege in the world to be someone, but you couldn’t be if they weren’t there on your side. You were them, and they were you. Your souls were eternally intertwined, and no matter where you went, you would always come back to them because they were it. They were all you sought out for.

Despite their desecration and souls being planted from Hell, they were Heaven and all things bliss.

You needed them. You would always need them.

You were winded out of your head as your orgasm stung inside of you, crying to be freed. You sobbed with it, shaking your head, but had to consider the gun that was indented into your skin. You had not known how much was passing when holding in your cum, but you couldn’t take it, and it was easily making you fall apart.

“Mommy, please!” You cried, blubbering in your tears. “I have to— ahh, please! I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, and you will, you fucking whore,” Ellie argued. “Unless you want to find out if the next shot has a bullet in it.”

You shook your head, and continued to break into sobs, your orgasm threatening to be released at the edge of you. It was becoming too much, your vision was blurring, and your heart was overwhelmed, almost frightened you would have a heart attack of some sort.

Ellie and Abby gave in, violently and recklessly pounding into you, putting your riding to a complete stop. You placed your hands on Ellie’s shoulders for support, Abby’s nails clawing into your throat as she continued to hold onto it for leverage while she maintained to hold you at gunpoint.

Utter euphoria rode over you, your eyes rolling to the inside of your head, and your back perfectly arched, crying out for the both of them. Your nails scratched at Ellie’s skin, your eyes getting a hast look at her fucking your cunt. Your noises and voice grated like rust at the back of your throat, breaths shuddering in your ribcage.

“You want to fucking cum, bunny?” Abby breathily asked. “Cry for it more if you really want it, sweetheart.”

“Mama, please!” You sobbed loudly, your mewls and cries faltering in your cries. “Want to be full of you, need to be bred by you two, please. Make me a pretty mommy for you, keep me trapped with you.”

They fucking lost it on you, ferociously driving themselves deeper into your wet, abused holes, and were coming to their own high. “Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” Ellie cooed, a faux pout dangling on her lips. “Then you wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

You nodded, on the brink of being braindead. “Yes, yes! I wanna be leaking of you. Wan’ mama and daddy to breed me so badly, please!”

You were an incoherent babbling mess, your voice raw and rough as you cried with your noises of gratification. They easily had you at the tip, and were ready to push you all the way down, keep you sobbing.

“Fucking cum for us, fuck!” Abby demanded, dropping the gun, and let go of your throat. She laid her hands on your torso, her nails scraping against your skin, and you hissed to it. Wanton moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, and a second hadn’t passed when your climax ran out of you, riding it out as the girls went on to fuck you.

You let them use you like a fucktoy until they had come to their own orgasm, stuffing their cum into you as a symphony of curses sputtered from their lips. All movements came to a stop, bodies trembling and sticky.

You had to internally keep yourself conscious, but it was seeming impossible. You collapsed onto the bed the moment you were unfilled with their cocks, letting them handle themselves before you.

You could feel a warm, wet rag running over your legs, and you stared up at the ceiling, your eyes lazily blinking. “We need to clean you up, sweetheart. C’mon,” Ellie said, and picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

The three of you shared a warm bath, sitting in the middle of them as they cleaned you up nice and well, being sure to be gentle to touch you. You had missed the sweet scent of them, or how their violent hands could be so kind to your body, chaste kisses being pressed on your spine and forehead here and there.

It took you a few years for you to figure out your purpose with them, and all that they did for you. It was more than enough. To many, it would seem insane of your justifications and reasonings to why they did what they did for you, but no one else's opinion mattered in the fact. They worshiped you, they devoted every inch and breath of themselves to your protection and well being.

This is all you wanted. You and them forever the rest of your life. If carnage and bloodshed had to present, then so be it; because as long as you had them there by you, it was okay.

It was going to be okay forever.

[angelicblondie]

luke x princess!reader

cw: alcohol consumption, tipsy kissing

ok, fine, you could admit it.

you were jealous.

and you knew there was so reason to be. you and luke were friends, best friends, but still just friends.

so why did it bother you so much to see him talking to another girl?

the weird part is that this wasn't even the first time. you had seen luke flirt with tons of the girls here at camp, it wasn't new.

but for some reason, this time it made your blood boil.

luke was sitting by the campfire next to grace mcormick from athena cabin. stupid grace, you thought, except you knew she wasn't stupid. in fact, she was really smart, and pretty, and good with a sword. and shes annabeths sister, which already gave her a one up on you. because as much as you and annabeth were close, you weren't her actual sister, not like grace was.

and its not like you were insecure. not to brag, but you didn't really have much to be insecure about. you were a daughter of aphrodite (which guaranteed beauty and grace), you were pretty popular, and you were well trained with your own dagger. and it also wasn't like you got no male attention, you definitely got some.

so why did it bother you so much?

grace threw her stupid head back as she laughed at one of his stupid jokes, and you felt anger boil inside your chest. so what, hes making other girls laugh now?

you knew you were being irrational, and it was probably due to the red cup with some sort of alcoholic beverage in it, but you couldn't help it.

you knew luke was allowed to flirt, to kiss, to do whatever with whoever. but it didn't stop what you were all the sudden feeling.

jealously. red, hot, angry jealously.

"you good?" the voice of a child of ares, aaron, snaps you out of your envious trance as you sigh, taking another drink.

"fine," you mumble, turning to him. he has a confident smile on his face, his eyes flickering from the scene at the campfire back to your face.

he chuckles, "really? then why are you staring at them like you want to kill 'em?"

you sigh and cover your face with your free hand in embarrassment. "you saw that?"

he laughs again. "yeah, i saw that. but dont worry, dont think anyone else saw," you sigh in relief, "but, i mean, i only really noticed 'cause i was looking at you, so..."

oh. hes flirting.

you tilt your head at him, as if considering him. you could admit that he was attractive. he had brown hair and brown eyes, and he had a muscular build (which is expected of children of ares). from what you had seen, he was pretty funny, and confident - all of which you were attracted to.

but, you truly couldn't help it as a little voice nagged in the back of your mind - he isn't luke.

sensing you weren't going to say anything, aaron nodded his head towards the campfire. "so, whats goin' on with that? you n'luke".

you take a sip of your drink, shrugging, looking in that direction for a moment. "we're friends, i guess," you reply distractedly.

aaron hums. "so, he wouldn't mind that m'talkin' to you, right?"

you let out a giggle, though it feels forced. "no, of course not."

you don't let yourself look back at luke again, and instead try and focus on adrian - or was it aaron? you couldn't exactly remember, but you were conversing with him, and it wasn't unpleasant.

he was pretty nice, and easy to talk to you. he even made you laugh a few times. so when he suggested that the two of you get out of there, you decided to accept his offer.

he led you to a tree away from the gathering, and before you knew it, the two of you were kissing. alex-sorry, aaron, was going all in, tongue and all, and whilst you tried to get into it - you just couldn't. you remember luke at the campfire with grace, and you wondered if they had snuck away to do the same thing you were, and instead of your previous anger, you felt your heart ache with sadness. you didn't want luke to be kissing other girls, you wanted to be the only one. with that realization your eyelashes fluttered open and your eyes became glassy, so you pushed aaron off.

he looked at you confused, and maybe a bit annoyed. "what? what happened."

you felt guilt stir in your stomach. "i-im so sorry, i just cant." you begin running away, feeling not only sad, but embarrassed and confused.

eventually, you run into someone, and you look up to see luke.

"hey, i was just look- why are you crying?" he asks, interrupting himself.

you cover you face as a sob wracks your body. "im fine."

his hands grab your shoulders. "ok, your obviously not fine. just tell me."

you shake your head and remove your hands from your eyes. "nothing, i just feel stupid." you say quietly, wiping mascara stained tears off your cheeks.

luke sighs and looks around, realizing that there are other people around, so he takes you away from the crowd and into one of the empty cabins.

he closes the door behind him and looks are you expectantly. "does this have something to do with that ares kid you walked off with?"

you snap your head towards him with a confused expression. "what? no - well, kinda but, no," you groan and sit on a bed, "no, anthony - i mean, aaron, he was nice."

luke raised his brows at you. "you dont even know this kids name?" he asks, sounding critical. "and nice isn't really a characteristic of an ares kid, princess. besides, i know the kid, and hes a dick." he explains, crossing his arms.

you narrow your brows as you look up at him. "well, he was nice to me." you didnt know why you were acting like that. you had barely talked to the guy, and you trusted what luke was saying. maybe you wanted to make him jealous, the way he did.

he scoffs. "yeah, and that explains why your crying." he purses his lips, and takes a deep breath. you could tell he felt a little bad for being direct with you, so his expression softened up. "you should just stay away from him."

you let out a huff of indignation, standing up. "i wasnt crying because of him, ok, i was just frustrated," you explain, crossing your own arms, "and since when do you tell me what to do? i can make my own choices, y'know."

he sighs, running his hands down his face. "look, im sorry it came off like that, im just trying to protect you. your my best friend, obviously i care about you."

you scoff. "oh really? didnt look that way when you were basically drooling at grace all night."

luke steps back and raises his brows at you, his expression of mild frustration relaxing.

as if realizing how your words came across, you fold your lips inwards and look away.

"you're jealous," luke states. it wasnt a question, and he wasnt leaving room for debate. it was a fact. you were jealous.

"no," you splutter, backtracking. "of course not."

a smug smile makes its way to his features. "yes, you are. you're jealous."

more tears come into your eyes. he thinks its funny? "get over yourself luke, gods," you cross your arms and turn your head. "im glad its amusing to you," you sniff, before walking towards the door.

he grabs your wrist to pull you back. "no, no, thats not how i meant it. i-," he laughs a little, "gods, im sorry, princess, its not funny. its just...the whole reason i was even talking to grace was because i wanted to make you jealous." your eyes widen in realization, and you're left speechless.

"a-and i know how stupid that is, and i didnt think it would go this far but...i dont know, im sorry, princess, really."

its silent for a moment before you look up at him. hes looking down at you with so much affection, and admiration, that you cant help yourself but raise on your tippy toes and place a gentle kiss on his lips.

lukes hands immediately grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, and yours cupped his sharp jaw. your lips moved harmoniously against each other, and something about it felt just so right. after a few long seconds, you pull away and look up at him, your lashes fluttering.

you giggle then bite your lip. "gods, im a idiot." you mumble.

he chuckles. "no your not. i am. i should've just...i dont know, not tried to make you jealous."

you giggle. "well, now you know."

and without a single complaint, you and luke spent the rest of the night kissing in the empty cabin, whispering new promises to each other - including to never make the other jealous ever again.

[hawkinsquarry]

don’t think twice, it’s alright

part 1/6 of wraith pinned to the mist

summary: you’re hellbent on keeping steve safe, but he’s just as hellbent on the same with you. [post s4, some canon divergence]

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; hurt/comfort with steve receiving; unrealized feelings; descriptions of blood/wounds and stitches; alive eddie we can’t do this without him gang

author’s note: idk. idk guys i just love him

He’s groggy. Waking up slowly and gently. Disoriented and so tired he’d might as well give up, but the voices he hears pulls him awake. His heavy lidded eyes slowly force their way open, revealing nothing but a very dark blur.

“Hey,” he hears. He can suddenly feel hands on his forehead, something hard pressed into his thigh. His brows furrow and a bit of panic kicks in. The last thing he remembers is an ungodly creature swinging at him, and now he’s here.

“Hey,” he hears again, and it’s a little clearer now. He relaxes, blinks a couple of times until his vision focuses in on you. “Steve.”

“Oh,” he sighs, relaxing. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smile. Your hands are on his forehead and it’s then that he notices the dull ache there. He winces and tries to move a hand up, but yours gently pushes it back down. His stomach flips but he doesn’t have his bearings enough to understand why. If he’d been a little less dizzy, he would have noticed the blood on your fingers. “Easy, Steve. It’s okay.”

“‘s goin’ on?” he slurs.

“Nothin’ really,” you say. Something touches right above his eyebrow. “You got a little scratch, that’s all. You remember waking up a few minutes ago?”

He thinks about it hard for a minute before shaking his head. He feels like he would have remembered if you were there. “Uh-uh.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice is warm and soothing. Steve leans into it, relaxing a little further, letting you do whatever. “I’m just patching it up, okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

He scrunches his nose and thinks about it again. “Feel kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly. “Eddie gave me a Vicodin for you, probably feeling that.”

“Mmm.”’

“You ever have it before?”

He focuses on your voice. “Party once.”

“Really? Who’d’ve thought, huh?”

He smiles lazily, one eye falling shut as the other stays open. His vision is clearing now. Your face is inches from his as you examine the scratch on his forehead, your brows furrowed and your lips downturned. He frowns then, too. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say again. “Trying to figure out if you have highlights.”

He sighs. With your face so close to his, all he can really feel is a longing that tugs deep in his chest and makes his stomach flip. The pads of your fingers work easy on him, and he can see you biting your cheek in concentration. If he had the energy, he’d lean up to kiss you; instead, he lays and watches, melting at your attention.

“Where are we?”

“Nancy’s.” You pull away with a cotton gauze pad and his eyes widen at the blood. “No, it’s okay, Steve, it’s not bad. Promise. Robin says she’s seen you look worse.”

“Robin,” he repeats. “Where’s Robin?”

“She’s safe, she’s here,” you soothe. Something wet touches his forehead and he correctly assumes it’s rubbing alcohol. He can’t feel the sting, but the smell makes him shiver, albeit quells his nausea. “She’s upstairs with everyone. Everyone’s safe.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales shakily. He jumps a little when you take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. He feels warm at the attention.

“You did good,” you whisper. “But if you ever jump out in front of something again, I’m gonna kill you.”

He laughs bluntly and forces his eyes open again. You’re away from him now. He deflates, searching for you, finding you again in front of him packing up a first aid kit. He sees some floss unraveled and his brows knit together again.

“What’s the floss for?”

“Don’t move your eyebrows, okay? You’ll make it bleed again.”

He gives up on the floss, watching you roll it back up. You grab something small and press it into your palm, which he now realizes is covered in blood. He gasps and tries to sit up, but you quickly shush him and push him back down onto the blankets and pillows below him.

“It’s okay -“

“Why are you bleeding?” he asks, his voice cracking, that panic coming back even though he’s almost delusional with sedation. “What happened?”

You blink. “It’s old blood, I’m not bleeding. I promise.”

“Did something hurt you?” he’s trying to push up again, and you lay him back down, holding him there gently with your hands. “What did I do?”

“You did nothing!” You’re almost admonishing him for it, eyes wild with something Steve can’t decipher. “You - Steve, Christ, you make me so mad sometimes.”

“Why?” he asks stupidly.

Your jaw sets and tears pool in your lash line. “Because - I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can you please just lay here for me?”

He’ll find out later that the blood on your hands is his, but he’s quick to follow your instructions, especially after seeing you so upset. You tuck him in with a blanket, your blood caked hands pushing his hair away from his face. “I’m just going to clean up, okay? Gonna let everyone know you’re alright, and we’ll be back. Do you feel okay?”

Steve can only stare at you. You’re so pretty when you’re upset, and he knows he shouldn’t think that, but wow. Your eyes really sparkle when they’re wet. You’re an angel above him in the dim light of the Wheeler’s basement, a lamp on behind you acting as a halo. He licks his lips and tastes metal, but he doesn’t quite notice. “You’ll come back?”

You sigh and cup his cheek. “Yeah, Steve, I’ll be back, okay?”

He reaches up to put his hand over yours. “Okay.”

It’s not that he’s never really noticed you before, or how his chest gets tight when you’re around, or how he feels like he’d rather go mad and get hurt than ever see you bleed. But it’s like he’s gotten some sense knocked into him. As he watches you descend upstairs, a harsh tug pulls between his nose and throat. He has to focus to not cry, not wanting his brows to furrow and make him bleed like you warned. A shaking, painful exhale escapes his lips. He wants to be good for you and listen to you and never make you mad at him again.

But, that all said, he’ll jump in front of a thousand Demogorgons if it kept you safe.

You could hear everyone pacing upstairs while you stitched Steve up, and as you push the door open with your hip, holding your hands up and away from you, everyone sprints over. They look at you expectantly, a little too intensely, and you have to laugh a little. “He’s okay.”

Robin sighs, eyes avoiding your hands. “He’s an idiot,” she says, for the millionth time. “He’s such an idiot.”

Eddie’s got his head in his hands at the kitchen island. He’s been offering everyone Ativan, but he’s the only one who’s taken any. When he looks up at you he fake gags at the blood on your hands. You roll your eyes and head for the sink, grateful when Jonathan turns it on for you.

“So, he’s okay?” Nancy asks, stepping towards you. “No, like, lasting damage?”

“Uh.” You think about an answer as you lather up your hands. For the first time, your stomach twists at it. You’d been so focused on being a caretaker that you hadn’t had time to think about everything, but now you feel squeamish. “He might have a scar, and I’m pretty sure he’s on concussion twenty-three, but he’s alert.”

You can’t bring him to the hospital because you’d have to admit you were, in fact, monster hunting, which was a punishable offense. You’re thankful Nancy owned a needle and thread - Steve may have bled out otherwise. One wrong move for any of you could be fatal, even if it could typically be cured with medical attention. You force yourself to not think about that now, about the words he said downstairs, about the way his soft brown eyes were looking at you.

“Can we go see him?” Robin asks, halfway through the door.

“Is he still all - like -“ Eddie says, gesturing to his face and making a blech! noise.

“It’s mostly cleaned up,” you say, scrubbing your nails against the palm of your hand, Karen Wheeler’s pristine sink turning crimson. “He’s still handsome, Eddie, don’t worry. Just - don’t say anything to scare him, alright? He doesn’t know he’s stitched up.”

You’re left alone at the sink, illuminated with red and orange from the outside, a thin curtain blocking your view. You try to be as precise as possible with cleaning yourself up so Steve doesn’t worry again. You’re going to rip him a new one when he’s better, lambast him for ever asking what he did wrong when the only thing he’s ever done was care too much and think too little about himself.

You hear their words downstairs - Robin’s thick voice, Eddie’s exclamations - you looked so badass, dude, you busted that thing up! You think of Dustin and the kids, how mad they were that they weren’t allowed to come with you all tonight, but you all decided to not take any chances with them. You know Dustin’s going to lose his shit the moment he sees the criss-cross pattern on Steve’s forehead and you wonder momentarily if you should give him a call to prepare him.

Just as you’re turning off the sink, Jonathan comes bounding up the stairs, looking a little disheveled.

“Don’t like blood?” you ask, wiping your hands with a paper towel.

“Ha,” he deadpans. “He asked for you.”

Your lips pull into a tight line because you know he’s high on painkillers and he’s fixating on you because you’re the first person he saw when he woke up. Probably has questions about what’s happening, or what the hell you did to him. But when you make it downstairs and kneel beside him, he just frowns. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to clean my hands,” you say, holding them up for him. “All better, see?”

He looks past them and at your face. “You said you’d be back.”

“I am now, aren’t I?”

“Good,” he says, laying back and closing his eyes. “Don’t leave again.”

You swallow, chest aching. “Okay.”

“These guys can go.” He waves his hand lazily. “So goddamn loud.”

Eddie proves his point by bursting into laughter, making Steve wince.

“Okay,” you repeat. “How about we all try to rest a little? It’s almost morning, anyway.”

As everyone disperses, finding their own places among blanket forts and pillows, Steve stares at you very seriously.

You reach forward to ruffle his hair. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

He continues to stare, and just when it’s starting to worry you, he finally blinks like he snapped out of a trance. “Will you stay close to me?”

You laugh softly. “You want your nurse nearby, huh?”

“Huh? No, just you.”

Robin makes a noise off to the side - she’s still close enough to monitor him but far enough away that he can’t kick at her. When you look, she’s fighting back a smile, and the idea that she’s seeing this too makes your chest hot. You look back at him, his eyes already closed, gorgeous and miserable.

“Okay,” you whisper, grabbing a pillow and laying it next to him. His arm searches for you, finding your forearm, and he grips it.

“Don’t leave,” he says again, his voice quaking a little.

“I won’t,” you swear, glancing at the wound on his forehead, an anger swelling inside of you unbearably. “I’m right here.”

[aestheticaltcow]

No Phone Policy 6.0

The final part of No Phone Policy: I had a lot of different ending ideas for this, but low-key. The seasonal depression is hitting pretty hard, so we get an okay ending instead of a fire ending. There may be an epilogue, but don't quote me on that.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N? You’re scaring me…” Mars begged as she kneeled beside you, brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. After what had happened with Carmy, you’d come to her downtown apartment. You didn’t answer her question. You closed your eyes and tried to take a breath, only for it to get caught in your throat.

Mars sighed and let you be in her guest room. 

Your Dad, on the other hand, had none of this. When Mars had updated him on what was happening, he was mentally preparing to go to prison for the rest of his life. He was going to kill Carmen Berzatto and happily admit to doing it. No one hurt one of his little girls and got away with it. 

He pulled up to you and Carmy’s house early that afternoon. He parked next to Carmy’s car and calmly approached the door. He remembered where the two of you hid your spare key and let himself in. 

“Carmen,” he called as he began walking upstairs, clenching and unclenching his fists as he vaguely remembered the layout of your home. He saw an open door and confidently walked in to see Carmy holding his granddaughter. Her eyes were wide as she furious sucked on a tie-dye pacifier, “Oh hey Marty. Y/N isn’t here..” Carmy trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how much you’d told your dad. 

“That’s Mr. Y/L/N to you, Carmen. Now, give me my granddaughter and start explaining what you did to my buggy,” he said authoritatively. Carmy sighed and handed Wolf off to him.

“Hi, gorgeous girl. You look just like your mommy- why is your mommy not here? Did your daddy do something stupid?” 

Carmy swallowed as he stood before Marty awkwardly, “We’ve been fighting… she has some fuckin’ postpartum thing. I don’t know- I wanted things to go back to the way they were, and I guess I pushed her too far. I didn’t hurt her- at least this time… she was ignoring me, and I grabbed her wrists, but this time, she fell down the stairs and ran off. She isn’t answering my calls, so I don’t know where she is.” 

Marty didn’t believe him for a dam second. “Be so happy I’m holding my granddaughter right now, or I’d beat the crap out of you, Carmen.”

Carmy nodded, knowing it was true, “Look, Mar- Mr. Y/L/N, I love Y/N more than I could ever. I’ve been killin’ myself over missing Wolf’s birth since she came out. I fuckin’ failed as a father and as a husband. I- I don’t deserve your daughter; I never have, and I never will. I just wanna talk to her. If she wants to leave, I’ll sign whatever- I just wanna see my daughter.” Carmy swallowed softly, suppressing the urge to cry.

~

Carmy dug through his closet that morning as Natalie sat on his bed, holding Wolf on her lap. “So, how do you want today to go?” she asked, wiping Wolf’s mouth with a tissue. Carmy huffed and pulled out a blue button-up shirt from the back of his closet. He was unsure if it would fit, but it was the ‘most court-appropriate,’ as Pete would say. 

“I dunno. Guess what were doin’ now?” he chuckled as he threw the shirt to the bottom of the closet still on the hanger. “Fuck it- I haven’t seen my wife in fuckin’ weeks. I’m fuckn’ tired of this shit. I want her to come home. I don’t wanna get divorced and fuckin’ share custody. I want her here, with Wolf, with me- as a fuckin’ family.” he scoffed as he moved to sit next to Natalie. “It took a year and a half to even get pregnant, and then I went and fucked everything up.” 

Natalie put her free hand on his shoulder and smiled sympathetically, “I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now, Carmen, but I think if you stand there and speak from the heart, everything will work out.” 

Carmy shrugged and took Wolf from her lap. She laughed at the feeling of Carmy’s hands wrapping around her waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound, “You’re gonna have so much fun with Auntie Sugar… be a good girl, okay?” 

Carmy’s question was met with happy gurgling and a gummy smile. He smiled and kissed her before handing her back to Natalie, “Well, which me luck.” Carmy grinned as he excused himself.

~

When you entered the courtroom, Carmy felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t realize how long it had been since he’d last seen you. You’d changed your hairstyle from what it had been to a shoulder-length bob; you also dyed it darker. Carmy swallowed when you took your jacket off. He hadn’t seen you in person for weeks, and as much as he tried, he could tear his eyes away from your chest. 

The judge called the hearing to start and began asking questions concerning the nature of the divorce. The words went through Carmy’s head, but he didn’t hear them. He was preoccupied with you. He noticed how you picked at your cuticles and kept crossing and uncrossing your legs and the glossy look in your eyes. You were on the verge of tears throughout the hearing, this was the last thing you’d wanted to do. Having your marriage dissolve. 

“Mrs. Berzatto, do you agree to the laid out terms?” you were brought back to reality when the judge had asked you the question. You looked at your lawyer who urged you to answer, you swallowed and finally looked at Carmy. When your eyes met his, everything flooded back. Meeting him at some bar all those years ago, your first date when he spilled both his and your wine glasses on you. His horribly awkward apologizes led him to info dump of how to get red wine stains out of cotton which led to the deeper conversation of how he’d been collecting denim with his brother since he was a teenager. Memories of laughing together, him attempting to help you with your homework, cooking dinner together at 3 in the morning, and just loving and being loved by him flood your mind. Being with Carmy was like being in a rom-com from the early 2000s.

“Y/N?” your lawyer asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to say something, but no words could come out. “I-uh.” You stammered, “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out before quickly walking out of the courtroom, ignoring your lawyer's call after you. 

Carmy watched you hurry out of the room and then turned his attention to the judge. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the door. “Be my guest, Mr. Berzatto.” The judge exasperated. Carmy nodded and quickly walked out of the courtroom to find you.

You were sitting on a bench just outside the courthouse with your face in your hands. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly walked to the bench. As he sat next to you, he heard you sigh. “Hi, Carm,” you said softly. 

“How’s you know it was me?” he asked playfully. He heard you scoff and watched you push your hands through your hair. 

“You always smell like smoke, spearmint, and old spice,” you answered, looking up at him. He chuckled, and you watched him adjust into a more comfortable position.

“You look good. How have you been?” Carmy asked as he turned to face you. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “Biting the inside of your cheek… am I making you nervous?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Really shitty… I’ve been absolutely dreading this day all week.” you laughed as you finally looked up at him. “Who schedules a divorce hearing on a Friday afternoon? Sorta a weekend killer, isn’t it?” 

Carmy laughed at the sentiment, “A bit. For what it counts… I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been thinking a lot and…” you took another breath as you pushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear. I don’t know what I want to do.” 

Carmy’s eyebrows knit together as he shot you a confused look, “Do for what?” 

“Obviously, I don’t know what I want for dinner.” You sarcastically joked, “I don’t know if I want to get divorced.”

“What brought that on?” Carmy asked shifting in his seat moving closer to you. You copied the movement and thought for a moment before explaining. 

“Wolf, in all honesty. I look at her and I see you.” you laughed, “I don’t know if you know but Natalie sends me at least three pictures of the two of you together everyday.” Carmy chuckled at that, he hadn’t asked Natalie to do that but he appreciated it in the moment. “I don’t want her to have divorced parents and I-” you paused for a second “I don’t want to get divorced.” 

“You don’t want to get divorced?” Carmy repeated, making sure he’d heard you correctly.

“I don’t want to get divorced.” You said again. The comment left Carmy dumbfounded, “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I guess I realized you are sorry for all the shit you did. I said some really mean shit to you, and while it was somewhat deserved, I’ve been reflecting a lot, and- I don’t wanna get divorced. Do you?”

Carmy laughed at the obscurity of the question: “You initiated this baby. When I asked you to marry me, I meant it till death.” You sniffled at Carmy’s words and reached out for him. Carmy grinned and moved to hug you. Having you in his arms felt foreign, not in a bad way, but in an unfamiliar way. 

It wasn’t an overnight ‘get back together’. It took work, and the two of you were ready to do it.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Bleacher Creatures

Jane sips a beer, looking out the giant garage window of The Bleacher Bar toward center field. She’d never have paid the 13.99 this Sam Adams tall cost, not with her own money, and would never have picked this venue for a back door deal, but the amiable young man next to her has covered both of their tabs.

Cash of course. He picked the place, when she made the call on the burner phone she said she’d turned over to evidence. Jane was shocked not to hear Paddy Doyle’s voice establishing their rendezvous, but instead Jimmy Ryan’s, telling her in his twenty-eight year old timber, heard the Dodgers might be an interesting team to check out this season. You been to that new place yet? The one they converted the old batting cages into? Gets real packed on a Friday night. Got all kinds of people comin’ and goin’.

Jane had hung up without a word. A grunt, maybe. No phonemes for sure. She doesn’t get the whole gimmick bar thing, and she sure as shit doesn’t get interleague play, either. The National League is the Senior Circuit no more and at 41-28 on the season, the Sox playing the boys in blue is like swatting an obnoxious fly in the muggy summer heat. But, she saves her thoughts about new wave gangsters and new wave baseball fans going soft.

Because this isn’t a social call. And as much as she enjoyed watching the Sox hang up a crooked seven in the fifth, it isn’t a baseball call, either. She sets her glass on the bar in front of them, licks hoppy foam off her upper lip, and crosses her arms. Two drunk kids to her right bump into her, apologizing on their way to the bartender, that’s how crowded it is. They press her into her acquaintance, though no one would know he and Jane are here to see each other with the way they stare out at the game and say almost nothing to each other. 

It’s Jimmy that speaks next. “What a game, huh?”

“I’ll say,” is all Jane says in reply. 

A couple minutes pass, a routine grounder off the bat of Kevin Youkilis, and then Jimmy mirrors Jane’s stance. “Workin’ hard lately?”

“As always,” says Jane. His question rings in her head the same way her grandfather’s voice would when he’d bring up bisinis, in that glorious, affected accent - they are now speaking of things she is not really supposed to understand. But she does. “You know, it’s the weirdest thing. I got a brother named Tommy.”

He stiffens. He nods. He polishes off his drink, and leaves the glass on the bar. “Enjoy ya night,” he gruffs, and then he’s off.

How can Jane possibly enjoy her night when she’s just told Paddy Doyle’s goon who killed Colin Doyle? She just served Tommy O’Rourke up to Irish Boston’s bogeyman on a silver platter, and the worst part is she could give a fuck about the consequences, professional, legal, moral, whatever. Maura’s safer for it.

It’s just… The Dodgers? 

What a shitty, shitty state of affairs.

___

A few hours later, and Jane nurses Irish whiskey while she tries to melt into her couch. She’d thought it fitting when she pulled the bottle down from the cupboard next to her microwave.

NESN postgame coverage drones on in the background; she hadn’t bothered to stay for the rest of the game - came straight home. She twirls the glass, watches amber waves slosh against it in between fiery gulps, pulls her lips tight against her teeth when it strips her throat of all the tears she thinks she might want to cry.

She doesn’t, of course; her drink wipes them clean, just like she wanted it to. She’s being a bitch about it - she’s got her badge on the coffee table in front of her and she frowns at it when it catches the light of the overhead fan. It’s right next to that damn phone. 

How many badges throughout BPD history have sat next to phones like this, metaphorically speaking? Not only is she dirty, she’s not even special. The part that angers her the most, though, is that despite the liquor and the moping, the choice is the same. She runs the gambit in her head over and over, and she picks the same thing each time. She tells Paddy when she leans forward, elbows on knees, forcing herself into dizziness. She tells Paddy when she closes her eyes and knocks her head against the back of the sofa. She even tells Paddy when she huffs, stands up, and stomps on the phone with the heel of her boot, crushing it and all it signifies.

The night before, when she’d told Maura that at least Paddy got off his ass and did something for his kids, she was talking to herself. She subsequently got off her ass, stopped waiting for brass to swoop in and save the day, and did something. For Maura. So why does she feel like this?

Fuck it.

Fuck it all. She needs to sober up and exit this pity party.

She slams the glass on the counter, goes into her room to change into some shorts and a sports bra. It’s hot as hell out, even at midnight, but she needs to run.

___

Jane avoids the Dirty Robber the next evening because she refuses to tempt herself with more alcohol. Instead she’s at Johnny’s on Main, an old diner close to her place, close enough that she can walk. And she did, despite the humidity and bone weariness of the day’s work.

She doesn’t look up from her coffee, fingers wrapped around the mug, when the bell over the door rings again, too focused on the stinging punishment of heat against her hands.

That is, until an unmistakable pair of knees makes its way into her line of vision. 

Maura. 

Jane’s head shoots up; Maura’s been crying. And now, Jane knows why her chest has ached.

She’d actually known somewhere deep down, somewhere unconscious, from the time she let her brother’s name slip into the Fenway air, though she’d hoped that, when Maura wondered aloud at Tommy O’Rourke’s body dump, Korsak’s non-answer as to who alerted Doyle would satisfy.

Clearly it didn’t.

Jane tosses a nod in the direction of the other side of her booth, flattens a hand on the Formica tabletop to ground herself in reality again.

Maura almost doesn’t take the offer, but then she drops into the bench with such uncharacteristic force that the vinyl lets out a heavy whoosh. “I’ve been looking for you,” she finally says.

Jane rouses herself, looks at her phone. Four missed calls, a couple texts. Shit. “Well, you found me.” Her voice is extra rough, firm. 

Maura rubs her lips together; Jane knows she’s trying not to cry. And even then Jane acts defensive, because she’s damaged and, hell. She knows what Maura’s going to say. Going to do.

Maura waits for more, but when Jane doesn’t give it, she sighs. “Only with the help of your brother. I didn’t want to believe you could do something like this,” she whispers, but so conspicuously she might as well have just stated it.

“Like what?” Jane looks into watery green eyes. Dares.

Maura, still dressed in her skirt and jacket from today, straightens her posture. Despite her upbringing, she’s a scrapper. Never backs down from a challenge. Jane has always liked this about her. “Helping… my father,” she spits out, the word itself apparently acrid on her pretty little tongue. Everything about Maura is pretty. Deserves to be protected. 

Jane tells her so. “I was helpin’ you.”

Maura balks. “So… so that’s it? You just admit it?”

“Clearly you know,” Jane says, “why keep lyin’?”

“I…” Maura huffs. “You and Korsak are not as convincing as you think.” She fidgets with the ring on her finger, the newest thing she hates about herself. Jane hates that Maura hates anything about herself. And Jane has been so bummed because Maura likely now also hates her. 

The price is almost too high to have paid. But at least this way, Maura is still alive, and even if she never speaks to Jane again, Jane gets to look at her every day. Safe and sound.

All thanks to that Irish gangster of a father Maura’s got.

“You don’t have to understand it,” Jane begins, “I don’t expect you to -“

“This isn’t you,” Maura cuts her off. “You’ve never wanted to… to hurt people.”

Jane sniffs. How is she going to put this? She wants to say that she admired the touch of Maura’s baby picture under the ice pick, that it pleased her, but she doesn’t. “You and I have been friends for awhile now, yes?” 

“Yes,” answers Maura. 

“You know a lot about me. But clearly you don’t know everything,” Jane counters. It sounds a little mean. 

Maura’s brow furrows like she felt it. “What are you-“

“I want to hurt anyone who’s ever even come close to harming a hair on your head. That’s what I’m saying. I wanted to kill O’Rourke myself for thinking he could hurt you. I wanted to kill Doyle for allowing you to become collateral like that. And not in any kinda rhetorical sense, either,” Jane declares. She holds onto Maura’s stare with her own and refuses to let go. Refuses to let Maura look away from what Jane has just placed between them.

“Did I ever even know the real you?” Maura asks, and it’s so fucking clinical. Jane thinks maybe that’s worse than sounding wounded. Jane thinks maybe Maura knows that.

“You remember when you called, right after Doyle let you go?” Jane asks. 

“Anything you want, I can get it,” Maura finally.

“That was the real me. Did it surprise you then?”

Maura takes time to think on it, and Jane allows it. Takes a long swig from her coffee. “Not at all,” says Maura.

“Then this shouldn’t either,” Jane replies. 

After Maura nods in assent, a long, tense silence passes. Jane watches her wave off the waitress. 

Jane’s next question, or rather the answer to it, may kill her. So, she gazes into the black expanse in her mug and hopes for the best. “So, you gonna turn me in?” She asks because Maura’s the most principled person she knows. Integrity for days and days. All Jane has is feral loyalty.

 But, Maura surprises Jane. “I would never do that,” she says. Jane snaps to attention again. Maura is frowning; Maura is livid, but Maura is here. And then, Maura is reaching out her hand. Of course Jane takes it. “But don’t make me have to consider it again.”

Jane nods. She will have to get much, much better at lying, because Paddy Doyle and the men who hate him are going nowhere. And in that moment, she resolves to watch a thousand interleague games, to break Maura’s heart a thousand more times, if it means Maura stays alive. 

If Maura holds her hand like this. 

[schemmentis]

Like I Can - Pt. 2

Pt. 1 / Pt. 3

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k

Mel…what are you doing here?” You ask, despite your phone still held to your ear. Barb hastily telling you to call her if you need her before she hangs up underneath your own speaking.

“What am I doin’ here? What the hell d'ya think? You don't answer your phone, Barb said you went home with somebody last night and she couldn't get a hold of ya. I thought I told you ‘bout not makin’ me think ya went and got yourself murdered, huh?”

You lower your phone from your ear. Your arms cross to match Melissa's own stance as she glares at you. “As you can see I'm perfectly fine; not that me goin’ home with somebody is your business anyway.”

“You had me and Barb worried sick!”

Your mouth opens to retort the redhead once more but you're cut off before you can speak. “Uh…hi.” Your date from last night is shyly speaking, her head peeking out from the doorway of your bedroom.

You watch Melissa's eyebrows raise as she realizes your date is still here.

“Shit.” You sigh again. The hand not holding your phone rubbing your forehead. When you'd been gearing up to argue with Melissa you'd momentarily forgot the brutal hangover you're fighting. Until now. This is too much to deal with at once.

Your manners override your hangover and annoyance with Melissa. Your hand drops away from your forehead, your focus turning to the woman of last night as she steps out of your bedroom. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I know we had a late night.”

With a smile she's waving your apology away. She looks ten times more put together than you feel. You guess she'd gotten dressed when she first heard Melissa, more than likely. “Don't worry about it. You know how to get a hold of me.” She says easily. She drops a kiss to your cheek before letting herself out.

You see the glare Melissa gives her silently as she passes her to leave. It makes you send her one of your own. Though it takes until the door is shut behind your guest before the redhead looks back to you.

“Don't look at me like that!” She says as soon as she notices.

You roll your eyes. “I'm not a teenager, Melissa. I don't have a curfew nor do I owe you notices of where I am or who I'm with.”

“You do when you got yourself with a stranger!” She counters, her hands briefly waving in front of her in her disbelief at your arguing.

“Whatever.” You grumble as your head pounds. You don't want to deal with a hangover and an upset Melissa and the sudden burning that old knife wound in your chest is suddenly doing. “As you can see; I'm fine. We can argue about the rest of the details another time.”

You expect her to leave after that. You're both far from calmed down or happy about the situation. Plus, you'd really like to go back to bed for a while until you hopefully feel a modicum like a regular human again. Instead, Melissa is stepping past you into your kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Melissa sends you another glare over her shoulder as she blindly begins pulling out some of your cookware. You ignore the reminder that she knows your kitchen as well as her own without even looking. Even though you don't really remember the last time she was here.

“Sit down.” She says, like you're in her house. “I'll make breakfast.”

“I'm really not—”

“If you don't eat, the hangover is just gonna get worse. Sit down.”

Reluctantly, you sit at your small kitchen table. Normally, you’d be watching Melissa as she cooked. You usually did. Yes, because you were attracted to her. You could admit that much to yourself now. Though that was merely a bonus. Watching Melissa cook was as fun as watching her teach. Her passion couldn't be hidden when she did either. Plus, the way she could move with ease through every step of any recipe was always worth watching. It was her own kind of dance. Especially her knife work.

Today, you're pressing your head onto your arms on the table. Even without your kitchen light on, lit only by the natural light from your window, it's too bright. You jump after a few minutes when something cold pressed to the back of your neck. Your hand reaches for what is there, freezing when your fingers find the warmth of Melissa’s knuckles.

“Cold washcloth.” Her voice murmurs in explanation. “Might take the edge off before the food does the rest.”

She stood next to you for another moment or two. Your fingertips at her knuckles. Her hand holding the cloth in place. You hold your breath without meaning to, waiting for her to speak again. You don't let yourself look up at her. The knife in your chest feels like it's on fire. You don't think you could handle it turning if you looked at her now.

After a drawn out moment, her hand pulls away from beneath yours. She leaves you to hold the cool cloth to your neck as she steps back to your stove to finish cooking. You stay in your place, head buried to your arms, hand holding a cloth to your neck. You stay there until you feel your breathing even out again. Only then do you brace yourself and sit up, blinking at the light again. At least, the smell of bacon and eggs isn't making you nauseous now. It's only a minute later Melissa is setting a full plate in front of you, along with a glass of water and ibuprofen.

“Thank you.” You murmur as she takes the seat across from you. She hasn't made any for herself. You assume she's had breakfast already. You know better than to hesitate in eating even if she doesn't have food. You know she'd gladly stare you down until you ate anyway.

She reaches across the table, taking the now room temperature cloth that you had set down on the table in order to eat. She holds it between both of her hands, idly moving it around in her fingers. It's unusual to see Melissa fidget. You don't have a better word for what she's doing now. Fidgeting. Like she's nervous. You don't think you've ever seen Melissa Schemmenti nervous.

“How was she?”

You cough around a bite of toast, taking a sip of water. “What?” you'd heard her fine. You just aren't certain why she's asking at all.

“The girl.” Her head nods backwards toward your front door. “The woman.” She corrects a moment later, like she's heard herself and didn't like how it sounded. “How was she?”

You blink from over your fork of eggs at Melissa across the table. You'd made sure whenever you were her wing woman she thought you'd gone home with someone. Both to keep her from abandoning her own plans if she felt bad leaving you alone and to keep from letting her know you were alone. Partly afraid she'd think you lame or boring when you had first met. Partly to avoid her asking why once you knew each other better. Melissa had never asked you. Not one time how any of your dates were. Until now.

“Why?” You can't help blurting out. “I mean, you've never asked me about any of the others before.”

Melissa scoffs, briefly looking away from you before looking back again. “C’mon, Hon, I ain't stupid. You never went home with anybody else before.”

You stutter for a moment, a few different answers started and not getting past a syllable or two before you start again. “Yes, I did.” You finally say.

Melissa only raises an eyebrow at you. Silently daring you to lie to her again.

“What was all that don't get murdered lecture for then if you knew I didn't?”

She shrugs. Her fingers are still picking at the washcloth. “You didn't wanna talk about it. So I didn't ask. I played along. I figured if you ever felt like it you'd tell me.”

Her head tilts slightly toward her shoulder. “And I meant it when I told you to always tell me you got home safe. You don't have to go on a date with a stranger to get murdered, y’know.”

Your eyes roll to your ceiling, biting the eggs from your fork in lieu of answering.

Melissa sighs, her hands planting onto the kitchen table with fingers still grasping the cloth. “You didn't answer the question, though. How was she?”

“Mel, I don't want to get into it.”

“So she was either really good or really bad.”

“Stop,” you groan. “You know I hate getting into the details. I never wanted to hear about yours and I don't want to talk about mine.”

“I never got why.”

“Why what?”

“Why the details of my dates and all bothered you so much. You ain't a prude. I've definitely made you laugh with a dirty joke or two before. You didn't mind hearing about Barb and Gerald.”

“Barb did not get into details and you know it.”

“She told you plenty for ya to fill in the lines!” She retorts. “I could barely say a guy's name and you'd practically plug ya ears.”

“I just don't need to know that!”

“You don't gotta tell me details. But was she good?”

“Melissa! Why does it matter?”

“It just does! If you're gonna finally have some dates then they better be treating you right and to a damn good time!”

“Or what,” You start as you get up to put your dishes into the sink. “You're gonna get your bat?”

“Maybe I would. I'd have to set straight whatever woman isn't pleasing you right.”

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, rinsing your plate to buy yourself time before you have to face her again. When you begin to turn you slow in your movements. Melissa is standing behind you.

Her eyes quickly find your own as your back presses into the edge of the sink counter. Her hands rest on the counter at either side of you, trapping you to the spot though there remains a bit of space between you.

“She did take care of you, didn't she?”

It takes you a long beat to be able to answer. Melissa’s eyes are locked onto yours. Her seriousness etched into her features. Her perfume lightly hitting your senses when you inhale through your nose. If she took a step forward she'd be pressed against you, a step and a half she'd be pushing you back into the sink.

Your fingers itch to release the sink and grip her forearms. Your chest aches for you to admit the truth, consequences of the confession be damned. Your lungs burn as your breath shortens.

“She was fine.” You finally manage to answer.

“Fine.” Melissa echoes. She shakes her head. “You deserve better than just fine, Y/N.”

Daring her to be better than just fine is on the tip of your tongue. You manage to hold it back. “Maybe next time.” You mutter.

As quickly as you ended up so close, Melissa steps back again. “Next time I'm your wingwoman and not Barb. Unless you're really looking for somebody to go to church with.”

“Maybe.” You repeat. “I'm really not looking for a bunch of dates or one night stands.’

Melissa raises a brow but smirks at you. “Oh, so I gotta really play cupid, huh? Find you somebody to stick around?”

“No, no. Really. I'm fine with how things are now.” You lie quickly. You're not. The feeling of your chest constricting the longer Melissa teases you about this is proof enough. Still, you're more fine with how things are than if Melissa made good on what she's saying she'll do. Or worse, if she knew.

“Alright, alright. I'll stop messing with ya.” Melissa says, taking pity. “You still look a little like death warmed over so I won't push too much. Today, anyhow.”

“Thank you. For having mercy and for breakfast.”

She waves your thanks away. “It's what I'm here for. Did you record housewives? We can watch that. I know it puts you to sleep and I can catch up.”

You don't have the energy to keep dodging or arguing, so you gladly agree. You end up leaning heavily into Melissa's side on your couch. You drift even as Melissa loudly criticizes someone on screen, her hand waving at the television before her arm lands around your shoulders to keep you at her side.

“You didn't scare the poor girl, did you?” Barb asks softly as Melissa settles into her seat next to her in the break room. She saw her friend in the morning but decided to wait until lunch to ask her about checking in on you. A Monday Morning wasn't the best time to ask Melissa much of anything.

Melissa scoffs as she takes the lid off her container. “Please. I couldn't scare Y/N if I tried.”

“I meant her date.”

“Who cares if I scared her?” The redhead says as she stabs a fork full of pasta. She rolls her eyes at the look Barb gives her. “No. I didn't scare her but Y/N said she ain't lookin’ for anythin’ anyhow.”

Barbara blinks a moment. “Well. It sure seemed she was last weekend.”

“She scratched the itch. Must be fine for a while now.” Melissa says.

Barbara does her the courtesy of not pointing out how frustrated she sounds. Melissa ensures the courtesy is bypassed though as she continues.

“I asked how she was and Y/N just said it was fine.” Melissa says after swallowing her bite, the irritation slowly spreads across her features and creeps into her voice. Her fork stabs a little harder. “Just fine, you believe that? I dunno why she'd settle. She could snag any bimbo in any bar any day of the week.”

“Y/N is hardly interested in bimbos.” Barbara says evenly. Calmly piercing her salad with her own fork as she watches Melissa from the corner or her eye.

“Well that chick from last weekend didn't look Ivy League.”

“Melissa, please.”

“What? You and I both know she could do better.”

“Better as in with you?” Barbara says as casually as anything else.

“Yes!” Melissa answers instantly. A moment later what Barbara said catches up to her. Her hand freezes mid fork stab, the prongs pressing into the plastic of her container.

“I mean, no!” The hand not gripping her fork lightly slaps Barb on the shoulder. “Why would you even say that?”

“Because it's what you meant to say.” Barbara answers matter of factly.

“It is not!”

“No? Then why are you suddenly so concerned with who Y/N takes home? You were ready to storm over there with your bat when I told you.”

“You said she didn't answer!”

“And you didn't know that when you told me if her date was still there you'd chase them out with your bat and a promise if they did anything to hurt Y/N you'd call one of your guys.”

“I—” Melissa stutters, suddenly tossing her fork into her container. She shoves the lid on and all but throws it back into the fridge. “You don't know what youre talkin’ ‘bout, Babs.” She grumbles as she storms out of the break room and back toward her classroom.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Okay I think I’ve finally come up with a plot for that jervis story I was telling you about. This is pretty long- I’m sorry 😭

Basically could follow the same plots as the ‘come on Eileen’ story with an age gap but obv themed for Jervis’s character. For the sake of everything, since this could be already dark-ish, instead of Alice being his sister, she’s his coworker. Very similar story tied with the btas version. Anyways continuing that, let’s say reader is Jim and Barbara’s kid all the way from episode 1 when they were still in there couple era (I miss it 😔). Jim had custody over reader when Barbara was sent to Arkham but once she’s out and running the sirens club, her and Jim come to an agreement for the sake of the reader to co-parent. Reader is about 10-13 during that time and then jumping to like season 3 with jervis being introduced, reader is around 17-19 (I’m not sure if this is the realistic time jump but whatever). During the first episode with how Barbara introduces tabby to jervis, imagine that same scenario but with reader also present. Jervis realizes how much reader reminds him of the book version of Alice with their curiosity, ambition, etc. I’d like to imagine Barbara finds it cute in a way similar with that one fix you did when jervis was leaving stuff for the reader while tabby is like “Stay away from the baby 😡”.

Now when Alice gets killed, we know jervis makes him go through all these games of killing and stuff and then he has to choose the one he loves. Instead of Val, it’s reader. As much as Jervis doesn’t want to hurt his current crush, he tries to be nicer about it and shoots them where the bullet won’t damage them as bad?? Idk where else I’m goin with this lol. I’ll let you come up with whatever else you wanna do. Be creative if you’d like.

I’d say basically it follows the plot of season 3 but without Alice and reader is present.

Thank you Cupid 🙏🖤

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART ONE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Everything's always the same in Gotham. Hard to imagine things changing.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Readers got trauma. Reader's also a cynic and dissociating. She fell first, he fell harder. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jervis and reader are soulmates, not just in his head but in real life! More about reader is revealed as the story goes on. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - ‘PART THREE, - ‘PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

Special thanks to @adalwolfgang for giving me the idea for this fic <3 really really excited to make this multichapter !!

♫ “Echoes of your name inside my mind / Halo, hiding my obsession.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

You feel like your ten again, staring into space, watching the passerby's from inside a Gala. You're mother used to take you there, when you're dad wasn't available.

You sometimes miss it, even though you used to complain. You hated just sitting there, hours on end, seeing rich people dance; like there weren't people being murdered on the street two blocks down. Maybe you took after your father in that aspect. It was a curse.

Your mom used to do your hair. You remember the way she finger-twirled your curls, gasping as she looked in the mirror. Eyes wide, she always said the same thing.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous!" You'd laugh and hit her on the shoulder, young and innocent. Sometimes, you'd make a mess of her lipsticks and bronzer. You'd try on her dresses which were far too tall for your young stature.

The sound of yelling rips you away from your thoughts.

This place isn't a gala. It's a club. And you didn't get ready with your mom, you got ready in the morning, waking up alone in your dads house.

You watch the two men argue from across the bar. You're cradling a drink; unsure what to do with it. Selina had stole it for you, somehow. You didn't ask questions anymore. You'd known her since you were eleven and she was eight. You didn't really like to drink. She knew that. You don't know where she ran off too.

Mindlessly stirring your glass in your palm, you can't help but squint under the bright blue lights. This place...it's not your first choice of where you'd like to be right now. Never is.

You hear a feminine voice calling you to the front of the club, and you can already guess who it is. You haven't seen her in a little over a week, not that it matters.

You decide to down your drink anyway. Who cares.

Pushing your way through the crowds of Gothamites, you notice the stage light up. Your mother and Tabitha stand in grand dresses. Tabitha's resting, one arm on the bar, looking effectively bored out of her mind. Your mother, on the contrary, looks utterly pleased. You fight the urge to snort.

There's a man on the stage. Long hair, cat-like smile. Your eyes follow the contours of his cheek bones. He's spouting something about waking up from an animal-identity. You're frankly lost, staring into his dark eyes. They look pitch black.

Sounds of clapping arise from the back. You simply suck your teeth. Someone new comes into the club everyday with a different act. This guy certainly wasn't any different.

"A magician? Really?" Tabitha asks, interrupting your thoughts. She sounds displeased and confounded, unsure what to make of Barbara's smile.

"Hypnotist." Your mom answers, correcting her. Ah, so thats what he is. You think. Couldn't hypnotize himself to have a better act? You almost make yourself laugh. Barbara mistakes it for agreeance.

"See! I like him! Y/N likes him!" Barbara chimes, smile lighting up to be a bit more genuine at your laugh. "Like mother like daughter. Plus, the place is packed. Be happy." She waves her drink around. Tabitha still looks peeved.

You want to correct her, but the words 'like mother like daughter' make bile rise in your throat. You don't speak.

"Just a taste, ladies and gentlemen." The man purrs, pulling your attention to him. That dark stare of his never once leaves the crowd. "But now...let us venture into something more arcane."

His eyes drift to you in the crowd, and it feels like a jolt of electricity. You wonder if he feels it too. He must have, since he cocks his head, pausing in his words for a little too long. His brows furrow, until the crowd begins to murmur. It's awfully intense.

You tear your gaze away to look at your mom, wondering if she was who he was looking at instead. It would certainly make more sense, given they must've been around the same age. But as soon as your gaze leaves his, the man clears his throat, and goes right back to speaking.

"The hell was that?" Tabitha whispers to me, and my mind goes blank.

"...No clue."

We watch the rest of the act, intrigued. He makes a man stand on the back of a chair, which definitely does not obey the laws of physics whatsoever. I can see why some people might find this amusing.

Your mom does bring up a good question though.

"So you could get him to do anything you wanted?" She asks, abet too excitedly. You want to roll your eyes. When you were younger, she would've made fun of this guy with you.

The man looks between the two of us, and you squint your eyes.

"Did you have something in mind, Ms. Kean?" He asks, and her gaze darkens. You feel a little sick.

As the act finishes, the man takes one too many bows, but the crowd eats it up. That blinding blue light still bounces off his face. Something about it is...unsettling. You notice it more as he stalks towards the three of you.

"Very impressive, Mr. Tetch." Your mom compliments. Mr. Tetch, huh. Well, you finally have a name for the man. "You have quite the gift. But you didn't answer my question. Can you make people do anything you tell them to do?" She speaks, slowly. Mr. Tetch looks flattered at the praise.

He clicks his tongue. "Only things they secretly wish to do," he remarks, eyes falling on me once more. "It's surprising what people will wish for," His eye contact remains on you, voice getting quieter. "Secretly. Deep down." He repeats.

Your mother makes a sound akin to a pleased hum. Tabitha looks between the man and you, and she looks less than amused.

"True," Tabitha speaks, pushing you to the side a bit. You watch as his gaze leaves yours, and snaps up to her. There's a ghost of a scowl on both of their faces that suddenly makes you confused. "You must be a very popular man."

She takes a swig out of her drink as she says the words, a bit sarcastically. Mr. Tetch, or whatever his name is, doesn't falter in his resolve. He instead offers a polite chuckle.

"Oh, I wish. Parties like this help pave my way, so, thank you."

"And you're new to Gotham?" Your mom asks.

"Yes...just arrived from up north."

"You have a place to stay?" Tabitha asks, head cocked. You begin to feel a bit embarrassed, heat rising in your clothes. They're asking the guy way too many questions. And he's a new comer. Poor man probably doesn't know a thing.

Before the man can answer, you butt in.

"Let the man breathe." You huff, and all three of them look at you in unison. Eyes-narrowed on you, the man blinks. Barbara looks at you, surprised, and Tabitha glares daggers.

Silence surrounds the four of you, and you shiver uncomfortably.

"Just saying." You mumble. Barbara raises an eyebrow.

"You'll have to excuse her. This is my daughter, Y/N."

Jervis's face lights up in realization.

"Ah, I see." He remarks, taking your hand. Tabitha instinctively steps close, watching the way he takes it. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/N."

"Thank you," You say, softly, looking into his eyes. It really does feel like time stops. You can understand why people are hypnotized by him.

Tabitha finally steps in between you two, as Barbara watches the interaction with vague intrigue. He drops your hand with some reluctance. You don't blame him.

"I think you should get going." Tabitha says, firm. The man simply nods.

"Very well. Enjoy your night." He speaks. "Ms. Kean, Ms. Y/N." He bids one last nod of goodbye, before turning on his heel.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 26

A trip outside the QZ turns dangerous. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Injuries from canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.2k

Tuesday, June 6, 2023 - Two Years Later

“I’m not doing this with you again, Joel,” Tess snapped, staring him down from across the table. “I’m not letting your obsession…” 

“It’s not fucking safe, Tess,” he cut her off. “When was the last time we went out and didn’t run into raiders? Last two months have been especially bad…” 

“You think it’s safe for you and me but not safe for her?” She demanded.

“No, it’s not safe for anyone,” he snapped back. “But you I trust to actually kill someone, you can take care of yourself. Who knows what the fuck she would do if she gets picked up by fuckin’ raiders…” 

“Who knows what you would do if she gets picked up by fucking raiders, that’s what you mean,” she knocked back the rest of her drink. “I’m done with this shit, I’m done with your paranoia around Doc dictating our goddamn operation…” 

“When have I ever dictated a damn thing about our operation?” His jaw clenched. 

“How about when you told your brother, our partner, to leave town without consulting me because she got hurt?” She said. “Or when you killed not one but fucking two FEDRA guards in the QZ because you saw them as a threat…” 

“They were a fucking threat!” 

“Not to mention the time you made the call to leave me in the QZ when you took her outside the first time,” she snapped. “Even though you knew you’re a goddamn liability where she’s concerned! You need to get over this woman who you’ve had nothing to do with in damn near 15 years, Joel! She’s done with you, you need to be done with her. Fucking leave it.”

She went to leave but he followed her. 

“You take her out there and I’m not goin’,” he said. “End of story.” 

“Tell me what the fuck it is you want, Joel!” She yelled. “Because it sure seems like you don’t want to be anything to anyone. You didn’t want anything with me! It sure seemed like you could have had whatever you wanted with her and you didn’t take it and now you’re doing this and I don’t fucking understand you! Do you really think she’s just going to accept us not bringing her out anymore? That she’ll just listen to whatever the hell it is you tell her? Because you’ve got a funny taste in women if that’s what you’re after…” 

“She isn’t one of us, she doesn’t have to know when we go out!” He yelled. “No one says we have to involve her in shit, Tess…” 

“And when she asks?” She demanded. “When we need more medical gear?” 

“We bring Andrew out,” he said. Tess stood there for a moment, just blinking at him. “He talked to me few weeks back. Wanted me to consider bringing him instead of her, he’s worried too. He’s heard shit from other smugglers and guards about what it’s like out there. He’ll go, she’ll still get what she’s after and he will actually fucking look out for himself. Besides, the chances of raiders trying to grab him are a whole hell of a lot lower than with her.” 

“His wife know about this plan?” Tess asked, a bit calmer now. 

Joel shrugged. 

“Not my business.” 

She looked at him, shaking her head. 

“You better pray nothing happens to him,” she said. “Because if it does and she finds out it was your doing…” 

Joel shrugged again. 

“Long as she’s alive to hate me?” He said. “I don’t give a shit.” 

Tess sighed. 

“Fine,” she said, resigned. “Talk to Andrew. Tell Doc, don’t tell Doc, whatever. I’m done trying to make sense of your shit with her.” 

She stalked toward the door. 

“Going to the Speakeasy,” she said. “Appreciate it if you didn’t join.” 

Joel sighed. He could hardly blame Tess, not when she was right. He poured himself more whiskey. He’d never been able to find a balance he felt like he could survive with you. There was so close that it felt like he was on the edge of a cliff and gravity was winning. The feeling that he was inches from destruction. But then there was so far that felt like he was stretching and reaching, part of him always trying to get to you. It didn’t matter what else it strained, what else it hurt, there was the constant pull toward you. There was no middle ground. There was either too close or not close enough. 

He went to the clinic when he knew you’d be at school but Andrew still greeted him with a “She’s not here.” 

“That’s the point,” Joel said. “Here for you. Rather she not know. Have a minute?” 

Andrew flagged down a woman to watch the desk and led Joel outside the clinic. 

“Next run, I’m not takin’ her,” he said. “Still interested?” 

“Why the change?” Andrew frowned. “You weren’t going for that before.” 

“Raiders are getting bad,” he replied. “You and me they’d just kill. Her…” 

Andrew nodded. 

“Can’t tell her,” Joel said. “Not until we’re back, she’ll try to stop you going.” 

“Trust me, I know,” Andrew said. “Luckily, Doc is Doc and she keeps a thorough log of what meds she’s after and what’s she’s used. I won’t need to ask her for shit.” 

“We’re heading out this weekend,” Joel said. “It’ll be a few days. Make sure your wife’s on board.” 

He just nodded and Joel was thankful, once again, that you had a friend like Andrew. 

***

“Doc,” Ellie sighed dramatically, drawing the word out as she trudged into your classroom and flopped into a desk, putting her head down. “I’m so freakin’ bored.” 

“Hi, Ellie, I’m doing well, thank you for asking,” you smiled. “How are you?” 

She raised her head enough to glare at you before putting it back down. 

“If all I’m going to do is go shoot infected for FEDRA why do I have to know about verbs?” She asked. 

“Because everyone needs to know about verbs,” you replied. “Can’t read or speak without them.” 

“Can they make them less boring at least?” She lifted her head again. “Because right now they feel stupid as fu… something stupid.” 

“Want something not boring?” You asked. Her head shot up. You smiled conspiratorially. “I got you stuff.” 

“Oh fuck yes!” She winced. “Sorry. Heck yes?” 

You just laughed and went into your school bag, pulling out photo copies of books that were in libraries of other schools that Derek got you into when he’d go teach his photography course. Ellie came and stood in front of your desk, leaning over to see what you were grabbing. 

“Got this whole thing on black holes,” you said, handing her a packet. “This one on a probe that is still probably flying through space and should be past Pluto by now.” You gave her another packet. “And then this on roller coasters.” You gave her a magazine. 

“Hell yeah!” 

You gave her a look.

“What? I said hell,” she said. “That one doesn’t even count.” 

“Go sit in your corner you gremlin,” you rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. 

“Gladly,” she smiled, chin tilted up, and took her bundle of pages over to the beanbags. She started with the roller coasters as you put on a tape and started grading tests. 

“Hey Doc?” She said after a few minutes. 

“Hm?” 

“Did you ride roller coasters?” She asked. “Was that like… a thing everyone did or was it kind of special?” 

“Well,” you shrugged. “It kind of depended. Most people did at least once but it was still kind of special. There weren’t roller coasters near where I lived as a kid and my grandma didn’t have much money but I went to a theme park with a friend once when I was about your age. And a few times with a friend and his daughter when I was in college. I rode some roller coasters then. They were pretty fun but most of the time when you went to theme parks, you spent a lot of time waiting in line.” 

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and went back to reading. 

“Hey Doc,” Riley trudged in. 

“Hi Riley,” you said, holding out the book she’d been reading when she came to sit with Ellie. She took it and went and plopped on the other beanbag chair. “Rough day?” 

She just grunted. 

“I’m here if you want to talk,” you said, going back to grading. 

You weren’t surprised when she didn’t take you up on it. Ellie was far more likely to talk to you than her older counterpart. She’d come to your classroom almost every weekday for the past two years. For a while, she was pretty quiet. She’d bring in her reading or take from the shelf and go sit in the corner. You didn’t press her. A few months in, she’d do more than ask you questions about her reading. She talked about her classmates, the issues with FEDRA teachers and administration, about the comic books she liked. You’d started looking for the series she mentioned when you went to the underground markets or were outside the QZ as well as books about space. She’d quickly become a bright spot in your day. 

Riley, on the other hand, had become more withdrawn the last few months. She’d never opened up to you the way Ellie had, but she seemed to like you better than her other teachers and she always put in an effort in class. But lately, she’d been tired, preoccupied. You’d tried talking to her but hadn’t gotten very far - something made all the more frustrating by the fact that you were pretty sure there was no one else at the school checking in with her. She was at risk of falling through the cracks of the system and you weren’t sure you were enough of a net to catch her. 

Derek was always trying to tell you that you couldn’t save everyone and, consciously, you knew he was right. But that didn’t stop you from trying. 

It’s part of why you’d pressed so hard working on your cordyceps treatment theory. It took years - literal years - of working with samples and trying different formulations but, earlier in the year you’d found something that actually seemed to work. The right chemical combination delivered in the right way and the samples didn’t grow. They stayed in the tissue where they’d been implanted, not stretching beyond it. 

“Do you know what this means?” You asked Elias, all but shoving your notes into his hands. “We could make it so a bite isn’t a death sentence. It’s not going to cure anybody but it can make it so people can leave the QZ, go near infected to wipe them out without needing to worry as much… I mean it still needs trials but…” 

“It’s a great idea,” he said, sounding exhausted. “But do you really think we’ll be able to get the powers that be to divert manufacturing to synthesize it? Let alone the process it will take to make the factories to produce the stuff?” 

“Elias, we’re talking about something that can start getting the world back,” you looked at him, baffled. 

“I know,” he clapped a hand on your shoulder. “And I’m telling you that I don’t know that there is a world to get back.” 

You just stared at him for a moment in disbelief. 

“I’ll run it up the chain,” he said. “But… I’m not optimistic.” 

He walked away, leaving you alone with your notes in your hands. 

So you did the next best thing you could think of. You found Marlene. 

“This is…” she looked through your pages. “I mean, I don’t know shit about the science of it but your tests…” 

“They’re not tests on living subjects,” you hedged. “I mean, in the before times we’d be years out from human trials but give that the bitten are pretty much dead men walking, if we can equip people going outside the walls with this stuff we can always just see if it works when the inevitable happens… It’s not a cure and it’s by no means a sure thing but it’s a start.” 

“I’ll take a start.” 

You weren’t able to get anything more out of Riley before the weekend and Andrew was out at work on Saturday, which made you oddly nervous. Marta said Jess said he was sick but something felt off. He’d been fine on Friday… 

Derek was convinced you were being paranoid but you still woke up feeling uneasy on Monday. 

Riley missed class entirely that day. Ellie looked particularly downtrodden at lunch but didn’t say much. When you asked if something was wrong, she just shrugged, looking distracted. 

Andrew was still missing when you got to work. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Derek said when he came to meet you that evening. “He probably just has the flu or something. I’m sure Jess would have gotten you if it were anything serious…” 

“You’re right,” you sighed. “I know you’re right. I just… something doesn’t feel right.” 

It set your teeth on edge. You couldn’t sit still, tapping your pen on charts when you had a patient, the front desk when you didn’t. 

“Can you not hover?” Marta asked. “I’m not Andrew, for me it’s just weird.” 

“Sorry,” you sighed when the front door of the clinic flew open and Tess and Joel came running in, all but dragging Andrew between them. 

Your eyes went wide. Andrew was covered in blood, his head hanging limp. You screamed for help as you ran for him. 

“What happened?” You frantically pulled at his clothes, trying to get to his skin. His face was pale and his eyes were closed. You looked back over your shoulder. No one else was coming yet. “Help me!” 

“We were almost back,” Tess said quickly. “Raiders came out of fucking nowhere, Andrew was in back…” 

You got the bloody shirt raised enough to see the bullet holes. You scrambled to stem the bleeding as Kristen and Lee came up from the back. You kept your hands on Andrew’s stomach, your skin turning red with his blood, trying desperately to hold him together. They started trying to move him and you moved with them, hands still on him, until someone held you back. 

“You can’t help him,” Marta’s voice was thick, wet. “You can’t do it, it has to be someone else…” 

“I can…” you reached for the doors but she held you in place. 

“You can’t,” she said. “You’re too close, you can’t.” 

You weren’t sure when you’d started sobbing but your face was wet and your vision was blurry and you were too covered in blood to do anything about it. You turned to Joel and Tess. 

“Why was he out there?” You asked. Tess looked at Joel. You raised your voice. “Why was he out there!” 

Tess looked at Joel again. He just stared at the ground. 

It was like something in you snapped. Everything you’d tied up in him for decades, everything you’d felt, everything you’d longed for, everything you’d imagined existed for yourself in another time and place and world with Joel at core of it. It broke open, spilling out of you in a rush. 

You shoved him. He didn’t move to stop you. 

“It’s you, it’s always fucking you!” You pushed him again. “Decided you were done seeing me so you dragged him into it!” You threw your entire body weight at him. He caught you and held onto you until you forced him back. “I can count on one FUCKING HAND the number of people on this planet who are happy I exist and you had to take him? You hate me that fucking much?” 

Joel’s eyes finally left the ground and met yours. He was was in so much pain you could almost feel it. You stopped pushing him. His shirt was covered in your bloody handprints. 

“He has a wife! He has kids! He fucking matters to people and you dragged him into this?” You were panting for breath, still crying. You didn’t think you could stop crying if you tried. “I’ve spent half my life in love with you, Joel, half my fucking life begging to matter to you and instead you just…” A sob choked you for a moment. “I wish I’d never fucking met you. I wish you never touched me. I wish you never called me that night I wish you never came to fucking Boston I wish you just got the fuck out of my life and left me alone!” 

You went to shove him again but arms appeared behind you and Derek pulled you back into his chest, holding you in place. 

“I hate you!” You snarled it at him. “I wish it had been you, it should have been fucking you!” 

He just stood there, staring at you for a moment as Derek held you tightly to him, before Joel turned and left. After a moment, Derek’s grip on you loosened. Your head spun. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tess was staring at you. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about…” 

“Fuck off, Tess,” you snapped. “You could have put a stop to it, you could have just not let him come…” 

“Not Andrew,” she shook her head, stepping close to you. “Joel. How dare you. The shit he’s done for you, the shit he’s gone through for you…” 

“For me?” You snapped. “No, it had nothing to do with me! It’s always been about him, Tess, and you’re a fucking idiot if you don’t see that.” 

“You could have walked away at anytime,” she all but snarled at you. “You could have actually stayed away from him, told him no when he fucking caved and you never did, you never fucking did…” 

“You think it’s my fault?” You snapped. “All his shit…” 

“You could have left him with me!” She yelled. She took a second to calm down. “You could have left him with me and you fucking didn’t. You just hung on…” 

“Of course I did,” you said, quieter now, too. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

She looked at you, the side of her shirt wet with Andrew’s blood. 

“I’ll go tell his wife,” she said. “I hope he makes it.” 

You felt unsteady on your feet and Derek’s arms went around you guiding you to a seat in the empty waiting room. You looked down at your hands, splotched with drying blood. Andrew’s blood. You stared at the wall. 

Jess came in. You weren’t sure how much time had passed but she was frantic. You stood up and she grabbed you, choking on her tears. You held her loosely, still in a daze, and she sat beside you, holding your bloody hand. Derek’s hand was on your back. You stared at the wall. You weren’t sure if you were really blinking. You weren’t sure time was passing. You weren’t sure how long you sat there. The blood on your shirt hardened as it dried. Jess’ hand stayed firmly in your own. 

Lee came out from the back and you and Jess jumped to your feet, hands still clasped tight. 

“It was close,” he said. “But he pulled through.” 

You didn’t really hear anything else Lee said after that. He let you back to see him and he was just coming around when you did, his eyes heavy and voice groggy. 

“What happened?” He managed after Jess had fawned over him for a minute.

“You were a dumbass who went outside the QZ,” you tried to sound upset about it but you were too happy to see him alive. “What were you thinking?” 

“Wanted to be the cool one for a change,” he smiled a little at you. You just rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll give you two a minute,” you leaned over and kissed his forehead. “But I swear to God Andrew you pull that shit on me again…” 

“I know, I know,” he said. “You’re the cool one and you’ll kill me to keep the title.” 

You went back to the waiting room. The clinic was closed but it was shortly before curfew and Derek was standing near the door. 

“Hey,” you sighed, coming over and pressing your forehead into his chest, expecting his arms to go around you. They didn’t. 

“He looking OK?” He asked. His voice was distant. You frowned. 

“Yeah,” you pulled back from him. “Everything OK?” 

He laughed darkly. 

“No, no I can’t say everything’s OK,” he shook his head. Your frown deepened. “Is Joel the reason you wouldn’t move in with me?” 

You froze. You had been so mad at Joel you’d forgotten that Derek was even there. Derek, who you’d never told about Joel. 

He pressed on. 

“Is Joel the reason that, when I asked if you thought about children, you said no?” He asked. “Jesus Christ, we’ve been together for almost seven years and you never thought to tell me you were in love with another man? A man you were regularly leaving the QZ with?” 

“Derek…” 

“Did you ever love me at all?” He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Fuck, I tried to build a life with you!” 

“Of course I love you…” You were crying again. You weren’t quite sure when you started. “I just… It’s different and… Nothing happened with him, it’s been years, it’s been so long and…” 

“But you still loved him,” he said. “Right? You were still in love with him the whole time you were with me, right?” 

You didn’t say anything. You just tried to keep from sobbing. 

“That’s what I thought,” he ran a hand through his hair, turning away from you. “Fuck!” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you I just…” 

“You just what?” He asked turning back to you. “You just thought you’d lie to me forever?” 

“I just thought I could love you,” you said. “I do love you, it’s just not the same as him but I thought… I thought it could be. That if I ever could with anyone it would be with you because I do love you, I want to love you that way, I want a life with you…” 

“Wanting it just isn’t enough,” he shook his head, a look of sad disbelief still on his face. “Especially not after you lied to me for half a goddamn decade. It’s just not enough.” 

“Derek…” 

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I can’t do this, not with you. I hope you get what you want someday, I really do. But I can’t do this.” 

He left and you stared out the front door, into the darkness, for a while. You weren’t sure how long. Eventually, you walked in a daze to Andrew’s room. Jessica had her head down on one side of his bed, his hand on her head. You pulled up a chair to the other side of him. 

“Hey,” he whispered. 

“Hey,” you managed a smile. 

“20 years later and we’re still the codependency crew,” he smiled back. 

“Yeah,” you sat down and put your head down beside him. “We are.” 

Tuesday, August 15, 2023 

“You know you don’t need to keep coming over, right?” Andrew asked, smiling down at you from the couch, his head propped on his fist. “Don’t need as much help now…” 

“Who said I was coming over for your benefit?” You scoffed. You were lying on your back, baby Jonah - named for Andrew’s father - on your chest. He was big enough that he was just starting to run and it seemed like he wanted to do that and nothing else. You swooped the toddler toward your face and blew a raspberry on both cheeks before lifting him straight up overhead, making whooshing sounds. He giggled and clapped his chubby little hands. “I’m clearly just hanging out with my best friends.” 

Elizabeth came over and hung her head over your own, her curls bobbing as she cocked her head at you. 

“Auntie Doc,” she said, her voice very serious. “Did you know your teeth are bones?” “Are they really?” You said. “Thank you so much for telling me, that is very big news…” 

“We’re reading a book about the body,” Jess flopped on the couch beside her husband. “We learned about the skeleton today.” 

“OK sweetie, Auntie Doc’s arms are getting tired so you have to move so I can bring your brother in for a landing,” you said. Elizabeth scrunched her nose but obeyed, stepping to the side so you could bring Jonah back down to your chest. 

“Who needs the gym when you have tiny humans to lift, hm?” You kept a hand on Jonah while reaching out to tickle Elizabeth, who shrieked and giddily fled toward the other side of the coffee table. 

“Alright tiny ones,” Andrew clapped his hands on his legs. “Bed time, let’s go.” 

He got up - slowly - off the couch and you lifted Jonah so he wouldn’t need to bend all the way down to reach him. Elizabeth whined all the way down the hall. You smiled. 

“I know a lot of it didn’t work out but damn,” Jess sighed. “You’d be such an amazing mom.” 

Your heart clenched at that. 

“Thanks,” you said quietly. 

“Are you planning to stay here again?” She asked. You lifted your head to look at her. 

“I feel like you’re asking me not to,” you smiled a little. 

“Not exactly,” she crinkled her nose. “But Andrew had his follow up today with Lee and…” she glanced down the hallway before lowering her voice. “I really want to f-u-c-k my husband now that he’s cleared for it which is a little tricky with you there.” You laughed. 

“I mean I guess if you want to have THAT kind of relationship with the guy,” you said dryly. 

She laughed, too. 

“Look, I’m definitely not kicking you out,” she said. “Lord knows he probably cock blocked you enough through the years when I was outside the QZ for work. If you won’t be OK at home, stay here with us…” 

“No,” you sighed. “I need to get used to it.” 

You’d hardly been to your apartment since Andrew got hurt. You’d only slept there twice since outside a few naps here and there. Otherwise, you’d been at Andrew and Jess’ place. At first, it was to help with the kids. Or that was the excuse you told yourself, anyway. Andrew had barely even made it into the apartment after being released. He needed help doing everything for weeks and you wrangling the kids gave Jess the space she needed to take care of him. The clinic had all but removed you from the schedule while Andrew recovered, you coming by for a while on Saturday and Sunday but otherwise just teaching and helping them. You’d started going back for a few hours most days but you were still at Andrew and Jess’ place all the time otherwise. 

You knew your apartment was going to feel lonely. Not just because Derek was gone but because you’d smothered the loss with Elizabeth and Jonah and the feeling of being needed. It was time to get back to real life. 

“You’re sure?” She said. “Because I mean it, you can just move in if you want…” 

You laughed at that. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll go home. It’ll be good for me, I need to start adjusting.” 

“Hey,” she said, making you look at her. “You know we love you right? Me, him, the kids? Because we do.” 

You smiled. 

“Love you too.” 

You were right, your apartment was lonely. The air was stale and everything had a fine layer of dust. You made a mental note to try to set aside time to clean the place the next day, it desperately needed some TLC. As you went to bed you sighed and opened the bedside table drawer. Below a few notebooks was the picture of you, Joel and Sarah. 

It hadn’t sat by your bedside in years now. You took it out sometimes to look at when you were home alone but it always went back in the drawer when you were done, tucked away. Your fingers traced the contours of their faces. You wondered what Sarah would look like now. She’d have been the same age Joel was when you first got together - a little older, actually. That was difficult to picture. 

It was hard to think of her in that way. She’d gotten stuck in time, forever nothing but potential. She hadn’t figured out what she wanted to be yet, so you had a hard time picturing her having a career - just images of her looking happy and successful. But you could picture her in a wedding dress, Joel walking her down the aisle with a proud smile on his face. Her cradling a tiny baby with his mother’s springy curls and his grandfather’s nose. Her giving advice to her little sister - now a teenager with long dark hair and her dad’s warm brown eyes - about how to survive college. 

It didn’t seem to matter how much Joel seemed to hate you, how much you desperately wished you could hate him, he’d been built into you somehow. You couldn’t shake him, no matter how hard you tried. 

You put the picture back in its spot beside your bed and tried to sleep, feeling more alone than you had since Joel left you before the outbreak. 

It wasn’t a deep sleep. When there was a quick, quiet knock at your door, you woke with a start. You frowned, glancing at the time. It was well after curfew. You got up and looked through the peephole and saw Ellie, huddled against your door. 

You fumbled with the locks, rushing to get the door open. She hadn’t been in class in a week, you’d asked several administrators where she was and no one would give you a straight answer. You’d gone by her room to check on her and she was nowhere to be found but she hadn’t taken much with her if she’d left. You were about to go to Elias and try to leverage what little FEDRA connections you had to see what records they had about where she’d gone, see if you could get to her. Riley had vanished, too, and you just prayed Ellie hadn't gone after her.

Instead, she’d shown up at your door. You’d given her your address and schedule months ago when she showed up in class with a black eye. 

“You ever feel unsafe,” you said. “Come to me. I will help you, I will drop whatever I’m doing and I will handle it, OK?” 

“OK,” she said. 

She hadn’t shown up with a black eye since. You hadn’t pressed. 

“Ellie,” you pulled her into your chest the second the door was open. Her eyes were teary. She looked exhausted. “Where have you been, what’s been going on? I’ve been asking administration where they sent you but…” 

“Doc,” she sniffed as she pulled back from you and held out her right arm. You gasped, your hand going to your mouth. There was a vicious bite there, the teethmarks deep in her flesh. “I’m in trouble.” 

A/N: AND WE'VE REACHED THE SHOW TIMELINE BUCKLE UP FOLKS!

Yes, everyone got super blown apart this chapter. That's the goal, they're at their most emotionally vulnerable just at the start of this big trip, it's going to be great and angsty and they're going to be forced to reckon with their shit because it's right at the surface heading into these extreme situations GET READY!

I have a taglist that I do my best to keep current, so if you'd like to be added please comment below!

Thank you so much for reading and interacting and getting into this story I decided to write one day. It means so much to me that you're invested in it and I love you all!

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[xxnomadsxx]

Look I got to know how each brother got kidnapped by the village. Did they just pick up Bruce in the middle of his restaurant and walk out with him? Was it a similar case with Floyd?

Did the putt putt trolls get fascinated when seeing new kinds of trolls, only to be met with growls and snarky replies from the grey trolls they met? Would Viva try stopping the trolls from taking Clay? How confused is he after they storm his office and just took him from his chair?

How did JD get captured? Did they take Rhonda with them? Did she try getting her dad back?

Oh boy!!! I’ve been waiting for this one. I’ll go in order of how each of the brothers got kidnapped from oldest to youngest. (Btw the trolls all split up into four groups to find the brothers)

John was driving Rhonda down some forest trails or in the neverglades or something. But then all of a sudden Rhonda just stops? When he got out to check what was going on he found Rhonda had been distracted by a weirdly placed pile of berries. He was about to start shoveling the berries out of the way so he could get Rhonda moving again. To which he was immediately stopped by like three dozen trolls and a good handful of feral trolls. (since John is a survivor) He was able to hold them off for a good 10 minutes (which is pretty good all things considered) Rhonda did try to help him out but immediately got tied up. Eventually the feral troll decided to stop playing around and moved outta the way to let Thing aggressively tackle John to the ground (after dragging Thing off of John kicking and screaming) they quickly tied John up, picked him and Rhonda up and started their journey to leave. John was now confused by everything and even more confused why that…. thing kept glaring at him and hissing. The only reason Thing only tackled John is because he knew he couldn’t actually bring harm to the brothers or else Branch would be mad at him (also he had 30 different trolls drag him off John before he could do actual damage)

Bruce was minding his own business in the restaurant getting some orders done. When all of a sudden three trolls asked him “are you Spruce” (the scene was similar to the one in the movie of Bruces introduction) but instead of saying “hey were your brothers” the three trolls immediately picked Bruce up, tied him up and quickly ran for it. Then we cut to Thing popping out of some nacho bowl in the background and immediately jumping over to the counter, and leaving a classic looking ransom note that said “sorre wif I m goin too bee riht back <3” (spelling mistakes and all) Brandy saw it all, and was about to chase after Bruce. Until one of the gray trolls came up to actually explain the situation instead of just straight up kidnapping Bruce. Brandy decided to let it play out because she knew this was a serious situation. (She does wish they took a different approach to getting her husband though.)

Clay was a little harder to track down for the gray trolls, but they found him!!!….. and other trolls? They decided not to just quickly rush in and grab the troll this time (mostly because they were being surrounded by a bunch of putt putt trolls) Who surprisingly have a very similar lifestyle to theirs. Basically the putt putt trolls were really excited to see people who were actually like them(in a way). Viva was excited to see other trolls (a little put off by the feral trolls, but hey ✨friends!!!✨) Instead of replying back with the same friendship given to them, the gray trolls answer the putt putt trolls with snarky remarks and growling (lots of growling) not really wanting to get to know the golf trolls since they had a kidnapping to get too. Thing finally caught the scent of Clay, and Thing immediately started running on all fours and broke through the admin office. Clay was shocked by the whatever that just broke through his office door, and was now being dragged away from his office by the ankle by the same thing. Once the other grey trolls and feral trolls realize they finally got Clay. They immediately start hightailing it out of there. Once Viva realizes what’s happening, she tries chasing after the group of trolls, and so does the rest of the putt putt trolls. The chase goes on until they get to the gate, once they get their Viva freezes up and everyone stops. After a few hours minutes of contemplating Viva exits the golf course (shes not afraid of them just what they might do) Just so she can chase Clay down (I mean her best friend was in a life or death situation. She had to do something Viva basically chases the group back to the village. Somewhere during the chase Thing gives Clay off to one of the other trolls and immediately goes too try to catch up with the group who is on their way to get Floyd. (also yes, Thing has been running around just to join each group and kidnapping the brothers.)

(Floyd has his solo career actually going pretty good before he got kidnapped.) So basically they kidnap Floyd after a concert, Floyd would go backstage to finally take his make up off, pat himself on the back for another good concert. To which he immediately sees this very strange looking troll (he wasn’t sure what that thing was) The Thing quickly told him “they were fan”. Floyd could never turn down a fan and immediately asked what he wanted and how he’s doing and blah blah blah. Thing replied by tackling Floyd quickly tying him up, then putting Floyd on their back and scampering out a window. Once he gets to the ground he is immediately met with the group who was originally assigned to kidnap Floyd (they are surprised to see Thing, but honestly in reality they’re not too shocked they are here)

All the groups meet up at the same time (somehow) at some strange halfway point, they all begin trudging back to the village. The brothers have a quick reunion that’s basically “Oh, it’s you guys” and after a few minutes of arguing, they start panicking (and are still very confused on what’s happening) BUT don’t worry in a couple hours, they’re going to see Branch in a diamond prison they will be forced to break him out of.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 2: In the Beginning

Word Count: 621/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: mentioned parental neglect, insecurities related to parenthood/Tags: Eddie Munson, Elizabeth Munson, Al Munson, baby Eddie

Divider credit to @silkholland

Elizabeth Munson was tired. 

Correction: Elizabeth Munson was exhausted. 

Night after sleepless night left her with hazy, droopy-lidded eyes, deep brown irises startlingly contrasted against the gray bags beneath them. Her curls matted in the back after days left unwashed; each time she tried placing her newborn son in his bassinet, his wail left her too heartbroken to take a proper shower. 

She held Eddie to her breast now, hoping and praying he would latch, if only for a moment without his cries. But the two-week-old only continued thrashing, his tiny hands curled into fists that left no real ache besides the reminder of her shortcomings as a mother. Starting with the man she’d chosen as Eddie’s father. 

Al Munson was nowhere to be found despite his promises to settle down once the baby arrived, to find a job that kept him on the right side of the law. 

He hadn’t even shown up for the birth. 

Elizabeth fixed her shirt and stood up from the old rocking chair, its creak buried under the sounds of Eddie’s screams. He was as red as a tomato. Could babies’ lungs burst from crying too long and too loudly? Terror flashed through her at the thought. 

“C’mon,” she murmured, gently bouncing the boy. “Please calm down, sweet boy. Mommy’s got you. Mommy’s here.”

A tear of her own slipped down her cheek. Failure. You can’t even get your own baby to stop crying. What kind of mother are you?

Maybe a change of scenery would help, though their cramped house didn’t offer much in terms of different views. Still, she padded out of the bedroom to the living room, clutching her son tightly. There had to be something, anything, that would comfort him. 

Her eyes landed on the record player in the corner of the room, a present from Al after he’d drunkenly smashed the one she’d brought from Tennessee. He was good at that: showering her with gifts to mask his snake-in-the-grass nature. No doubt he was out drinking and smoking and snorting whatever he could get his hands on while Elizabeth tended to Eddie, all alone. 

She shook off the thought as she grabbed a record with one hand, Eddie snugly tucked in the crook of her other arm. The Kinks’ debut album—not quite Rock-a-Bye Baby, but it was worth a try. Shaking the vinyl from its case, she placed it on the player and dropped the needle to a random track. 

Round and round it spun until the familiar opening guitar riff rang through the tinny speakers. 

All at once, Eddie’s cries stilled. Though his eyes still didn’t focus well, Elizabeth could have sworn that his gaze shifted over to the record player as if trying to track down the sound’s origin. 

With utmost trepidation, she quietly sang along with Ray Davies, the gentle vibration from her chest soothing Eddie. 

Girl, you really got me goin’

You got me so I don’t know what I’m doin’

Eddie’s mouth stretched in a yawn as his fingers unfurled and his eyelids fluttered shut. His breathing evened out, a steady rise and fall of his chest instead of frantic heaving. 

Yeah, you really got me now

You got me so I can’t sleep at night

The irony wasn’t lost on Elizabeth, though she was certain the lyrics hadn’t been referencing two A.M. feedings and hourly diaper changes. 

She watched her baby boy drift off to sleep, finally at ease wrapped in her arms and in the music. 

“You like rock ‘n roll, sweet boy?” She pressed a tender kiss to the wispy curls atop his scalp, inhaling his powdery scent. “It sure looks like it, huh? Maybe you’ll even be a rockstar someday.”

--

[pumpkinsy0]

Ok this might seem stupid but hear me out, perhaps we could get some headcanons of papercut in the events of the book but instead of Johnny it was Curly who stabbed the soc and him and Pony had to run away together? It would also be cool to see what the Curtis AND Shepard gangs reactions are

this aint stupid,,,,ur onto something here,,,,

•ok look, not REALLY related but curly woulda loved that white trash w mustangs and madras line, this white on white violence gotta STOP💔💯

•ANYWAYS, i think he’d put up more of a fight, he’d try to get to pony but they were outnumbered so he gets cornered, HOWEVER, he always carries some weapon on him, or maybe he picked up a coke bottle, POINT IS, bob still died lmao

•i dont think curly and pony would stay around that area as long as johnny and pony did, curly would want to leave as soon as he could so nobody could see them, so ponys forced to just get it together in under like 2mins so they could leave, so ponys disassociating badly

•theyd go to tim, curly doesnt like dally and tim IS his older brother, then tim would tell dally, and they still end up at the dirty ass church</3

•now curlys shaken up too, like hes not trying to show it to look tough, but hes never done THAT before, never flat out hurt someone that badly before, but he still doesnt regret it bc it was to defend pony, however considering hes black in the 60s in TULSA, hes so certain a judge will not gaf that it was outta self defense, so actually hes disassociatin too, they both a lil fucked up rn

•back at home, dally didnt tell darry or soda where they were but tim sure as hell did, he gets what darrys goin through cause theyre both older bros worryin over their younger bros, darry doesnt know HOW to react at all to it, he doesnt tell soda nor johnny, or anyone really, when two bit says he’ll go to texas (i think it was,,,) to look for him, darry says not to bother, so they all feel like darry knows where pony is and they dint know wether to be happy or terrified bc why isnt he tellin em or getting him??

•when it comes to the shepard gang, tim did tell some of em whats going on, only his trusted guys tho, theres basically nothing they CAN do to stop word from spreading about it bc the socs who were there already went to the cops, so they all have to lay low for a while, stay in line cause tim quite honestly cant handle anything more rn

•angela’s pretty much losing it too, shes drinking more, way more irritable, if one of the shepards is gone, ALL of em r losing it dawg

•in the church, curlys trying to act like his normal self but u can tell that he’s damn near close to losing it cause this could mean prison or the death penalty, hes so sure hes done for and pony wants to reassure him but holy fuck it aint lookin too good, they do their normal banger but u can feel this somber tension between the two as if this is gonna b their last moments together

•curly is NOT talking about turning himself in at all, he’d rather kill someone else to NOT go actually, on top of that tims telling him to stay hidden, dallys tellin him to stay hidden, so thats how he knows hes GOTTA stay there

•NOW THE FIRE, just like dally, curly dont care that much bout those kids im ngl, but bc ponys running in there, now HE has to help, boooooo👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽

•curly aint like johnny, hes grabbing those kids and pushing them out, whatever injuries they get outta that they gonna have to deal w later, its better than them being dead id think, when the church falls, honestly??? i think my main man curly gettin outta there in time, he lowkey DID push pony out the window cause he was taking too long and then jumped out bit aye, hes livin

•its either that or he risks it and takes the longer way out if like, the wood fell where the window was

•he aint livin without some injuries and scars tho, he did definitely break SOMETHING and got some burns on his hands and wherever else, but hes relatively fine, a part of the reason y is bc he wears a leather jacket, unlike johnny who wears a jean jacket, and jean jackets r more flammable, and as seen w pony, the leather jacket did help him a bit in that fire, he still is banged up tho

[starker-raving-mads]

For you: Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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"It's easier if we come up to see you," Bucky had said, Steve murmuring his agreement in the background of the phone call. "We're gonna be in the city anyway and besides, ain't it better to do it where you can do all the scans and stuff?"

The plan was sound, and made sense to Peter at the time. But here and now, with Captain America and the Winter Soldier making their way up to the penthouse labs in Stark Tower, the vigilante was questioning his judgement.

"Fri do we - "

"Yes, Mother, we have the schematics loaded and ready for display in both holographic and flat form."

"Okay, okay but do you think - "

"You've practiced attaching and detaching the device enough times that your fluidity of movement has increased by 313%."

"Sure but - "

"Peter," the AI cut off the teen's frantic questions. He fell silent, chagrined; she rarely called him Peter anymore and when she did, he knew it was because he was being too much.

He let out a deep sigh.

"Okay, I get it," he gave up. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be I guess."

"You are," the super intelligence agreed. "I'm glad you've come to see reason. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers will arrive on the elevator in ETA 10 seconds."

They were coming by so that Peter, 18-year-old, clumsy Peter, could attach Bucky's new prosthetic based on Mr. Stark's assemblage instructions. He was, for lack of any better words, fucking terrified.

It wasn't so much that Bucky and Cap scared him, at least not any more. He had a healthy respect for the pair after everything they'd gone through, but the few meet ups he'd had with the group as a whole had made him appreciate the less-obvious qualities that each hero had in turn. Sure, Bucky was scary as heck in a fight, but outside of that he was quiet and kind of contemplative. Steve was the driving force for optimism and doing the right thing - and also an absolute mother hen.

Instead it was the fact that he was basically going to be attaching this thing, that he did not create, that cost Mr. Stark probably at least a million dollars? Onto the body of a super soldier while his - best friend or boyfriend or whatever they were, Peter really never got clarification - watched over his shoulder. He was having performance anxiety, big time.

He concentrated on those better qualities of theirs as the elevator door opened.

An hour later, he wasn't sure why he'd be so scared in the first place.

"You're really a natural at all this, huh?" Steve asked, peering over all the holodisplays Friday had helpfully pulled up for Peter as he went along attaching circuitry, wires, and faceplates. The blonde's eyes were wide trying to take everything in while Peter, finally confident in the face of the older man's perplexity, worked slowly but surely on finishing the attachment of Bucky's new arm.

"Sort of," the teen chuckled. "Mostly it's just that I spent so long growing up without any of the bells and whistles - oops, sorry," he grimaced after a slight spark made Bucky flinch. They were bound to happen, given that the battery that was Bucky's natural electrical system couldn't be turned off like one could a computer they were changing the parts in. " - that now that I've got all this stuff to make it so much easier, it's more understandable than it probably would've been otherwise, if that makes sense."

Bucky hummed in agreement. "Kinda like training with weights then goin' into the fight without 'em on." His Brooklyn accent was stronger than it had been before. Maybe it meant more of his old self was returning. The thought made Peter happy for the other man.

"Yeah, yeah exactly!"

"You know, I always thought Tony was one of a kind with how smart he was," Steve admitted after a few more moments of silence scattered with the light clinks of metals and wires being maneuvered in Peter's sure hands. "And he is, I'm not saying he wasn't, but you really do him justice here, Pete."

Peter ducked his head, flush blossoming in a great pink wave across his cheeks and the back of his neck.

"Nah," he disagreed quietly. "I'm nothing special. I bet there's thousands more people who would be able to put all this to better use." He sighed.

"No they wouldn't," Bucky said in a sure, firm tone. Peter looked up at him, his curls - getting too long, needing a cut - falling slightly across his eyes. "I've seen a lot of people, kid, and trust me, you are one in a billion."

Peter's breath caught and he stared at the assassin in shocked silence. He was brought out of it when Steve laid one of his large hands over Peter's slight shoulder, engulfing him in warmth.

"Buck's right, son," Steve agreed. A warmth Peter hadn't known since before Uncle Ben passed away washed over him. Something that felt like acceptance and family all rolled into one.

"Thanks," he replied quietly to the both of them. Steve kept his hand there for just long enough that Peter could pull on that warm memory with ease later.

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"Shoulda seen him, Pete," Bucky said, tossing a foam football to Steve, who tossed it to the teen, who tossed it back to Bucky in a smooth triangle stretching across the lab. "Stevie used to be a beanpole - short and tiny and yet had the bite of a gator wrapped up in all that acne and asthma," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, live it up, wise guy," Steve replied, smile taking any bite that might've been there right back out of it.

They were, ostensibly, calibrating Bucky's arm. Peter had finished with the installation a while ago and had gone back a few times to make some minor adjustments. They'd been tossing the toy ball that was he and Mr. Stark's 'thinking ball' between themselves to test the arm's dexterity, reliability, and maneuverability, but the spider was pretty sure it was as good as it could be at this point without a real endurance test. Still though. He was having fun, relaxing with his new friends. He could unwind with them in a way that Ned and MJ just couldn't do for him. He tried not to feel bad for spending so much time away from his friends but his life was just so - different, now. He'd make it up to them.

"I used to have asthma too," the teen admitted, tossing the ball to Bucky again. "And glasses, and all sorts of problems." He shrugged, catching the ball from Steve. "The bite kind of cleared all of that up, though I still have problems with the cold."

"Oh yeah?" Bucky asked, thoughtful.

"Never really knew why, just seemed to stick around, honestly feels a little worse but I don't know if it's just like that in comparison to like having none of the other stuff to distract my senses from it."

"You know," Bucky drawled, pausing as he caught the ball, holding it cocked against his hip. "Spiders can't thermoregulate. It's why you never see 'em in winter." Peter and Steve both blinked at him. In an act of absolute insanity, the winter soldier blushed. "What?" he asked, defensive, throwing the ball more firmly than necessary at Steve. "I read!"

"I never really thought of that," the younger man admitted. "That might actually bear looking into. Hey, Fri?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Can you make a note to research that?"

"Of course, Mother. Also, this is your reminder that it is 2pm and you have not yet eaten."

"Thanks, Friday," he grinned. He caught the older men looking at him. "What?"

"Mother?" Steve and Bucky asked in unison, smirks firmly in place. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Peter had lunch delivered from his and May's favorite Thai place, leaving a hefty tip. It was still weird to him to just…having access to money now. He hadn't really used it except to pay for things like food and help May with bills and pay for his enrollment to Columbia. He was relieved, honestly, that the sudden influx of cash and power hadn't gone to his head. He liked to think it wouldn't but he was as human as everyone else and he'd seen good people do terrible things for cash.

Lunch with Steve and Bucky was good. It felt just like a continuation of the last few hours they'd spent together, like hanging out and just being friends. Refreshing, after everything. He'd answered embarrassing questions - like why Friday called him Mother (and then teased Steve for not getting the reference, even though Bucky somehow did), establishing a promise to have some kind of movie night so that he and Bucky could show Steve the legendary Alien films, and of course answering even more awkward questions.

"So no girlfriend?"

"Uh, nope, no not right now."

"Boyfriend?"

"Uh - "

"It's okay if you have a boyfriend, you know - "

"Or even a nonbinary partner! I hear that's a thing now, too, though I guess it always was and we just never really talked about it - "

"What Steve means, Pete, is no judgement from us. What's judgin' ever got anybody anyway?"

"Thanks guys, but no, no partners of any kind right now."

"Hmmm."

"What's that look for?"

"Still hung up on Tony, huh?"

"W-what??"

"It's okay, I get it, Stark was a handsome man. Don't look at me like that, Stevie, I know you ain't blind."

So yeah, awkward. Though, kind of sweet too? It was really kind of Bucky and Steve to just get it when it came to him and his feelings for Mr. Stark, as unrequited as they would always be. Felt a little easier to breath after that conversation, honestly. Ned and MJ had teased him constantly about his crush on Mr. Stark. May had too, for a while, though she'd stopped after - well after everything.

Apparently the billionaire and his aunt had done a lot to support each other while he was Blipped. Aunt May talked about Tony a lot differently, more supportive and less teasingly, than she ever had before.

He sighed, exhausted, spinning on his stool in the lab. Steve and Bucky had left a little while ago and he was still lost in his thoughts. He needed to stop thinking about this. About Tony Stark. He looked around.

"Guess it's kind of hard to not think about him when literally everything looks like he's about to walk right back in," he said to himself. He didn't want to get rid of any of it, but - "Fri, baby?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Put on the Stark-Parker Playlist #3. I've got some cleaning to do."

He spent the next two hours decluttering everything he could. Pens and pencils back where they belonged, rinsing out the coffee machine, papers getting filed away, tools and loose screws and wires being organized. In the end, the lab looked cleaner than he could ever remember it being. And it still felt like Tony, for sure, but it also felt like a breath of fresh air.

He slid his stool across the room to the last filing cabinet. He knew this was where all the experimental files got stored, just random notes on thought experiments and the like. All the real experiments - the weapons and suit projects - were all stored in Friday's cloud, but bits and pieces of physical hardware were inevitably tossed here.

As he pulled things out and arranged them on the floor to get some sense of what exactly was in the cabinet, he slowly realized that the things he was pulling out weren't exactly random. His piles were forming a pattern on the floor, piles of notes about holographic improvements next to auditory transcription, and weirdly a pile about how birds can mimic sound with their vocal patterns.

He stepped back from the landscape he created, scratching his head.

"Friday?" he called, tilting his head back and forth as though he were looking at a picture that was just slightly out of order.

"Yes, Mother?"

"What the hell am I looking at?" he asked. He was slightly frustrated. He could tell all this went together but - but not how. Like a puzzle missing one too many pieces.

"On the floor in front of you are assorted piles of - "

"No, no," he shook his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "Sorry, I should've been more clear."

"It is okay, Mother. I am still learning. What is it you would like to know?"

"It looks like all of this - stuff - the notes and the research and things - like they all go together. Was Mr. Stark working on something?"

Friday was quiet for a moment before saying, "Yes, though I am not sure he ever meant for the research to be conclusive or be shared." Her voice was hesitant.

"So, he stopped researching?" Peter asked, mind turning over what the man could've possibly been working on.

"Yes."

"Was it because he hit a dead end?" The thought of being able to finish something that Mr. Stark couldn't was invigorating.

"Yes and no." Peter narrowed his eyes, looking up - even though, technically, Friday was everywhere in this lab.

"Fri, what are you holding back from me? It's not - " he paused, " - it's not dangerous is it?"

"Not in the manner a weapon might be." He groaned.

"Friday," he said in the same tone Aunt May used on him when he was edging around a subject.

He figured he might've gotten it down right when she answered, "Boss had been investigating the best and most accurate methods of recreating natural intelligence."

"So, a new form of AI," Peter clarified.

"No," she replied, more softly. "I believe, based on the results of some of his testing, that he was attempting to recreate a previously known organic intelligence." A pause, and Peter's spidey-sense tingled, ever so slightly. "He was attempting to recreate your intelligence, Mother."

It felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him, his stomach doing a wicked somersault. He had the vaguest sense of vertigo, like he'd missed grabbing a web when slinging high between two buildings in downtown.

"Why - " his voice clicked, throat dry from shock. "Why would he - ?"

"If I were to posit," Friday said in that same slightly gentle tone. "I have watched you and Boss both, together and on an individual basis. From some of the similar actions you both have taken, I can extrapolate that, in the best way I am currently able to describe," she paused, like she did not like the uncertain nature of the information she was about to unveil, "he was attempting to create such an intelligence because he missed you, Mother."

[bonitanightmxres]

Us Again || JOEL MILLER

PAIRING: Joel Miller x ex!girlfriend reader

SYNOPSIS: The journey to salt lake city puts an unexpected strain on your relationship with joel, but after a forced encounter, he realizes how much he misses you.

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, language, some smut toward the end, 18+ mdni, piv sexual content, unprotected sex, hinted age gap

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

Joel had been lying down on the couch, resting his eyes in his home in Jackson when Ellie stormed in–so much for trying to relax. He hadn’t even bothered taking his boots off when he came home, and instead threw his legs up on the couch with his arm resting behind his head and the other draped across his stomach.

Ellie slammed the door behind her, stomping her feet as she sat down in the recliner across from him. Joel opened one eye, and she stared at him with a frown on her face. 

“Your face is gonna stay like that.” Joel remarked smartly before closing his eye again.

“What. The. Fuck.” It came out more like a statement than a question from Ellie, but it was just as venomous as she spit the words out. “You said you were gonna go, and I gotta find out from Tommy that you’re not going?”

Tommy and Maria had a thing in Jackson where they gathered the town in celebration for their own made-up event. It wasn’t necessarily because of any holiday, but rather because the couple insisted that it helped preserve the tight-knit feeling of the community and made the townsfolk feel normal. It gave them something to look forward to every now and again, and what was the harm in taking a day and having fun? Ever since she settled in, Ellie thought about what it would be like to take part in the town’s tradition and walk the streets of Jackson with you and Joel, and how she’d play different games with other teens she’d met–but that all changed when you moved into your own, smaller house only weeks after arriving. 

“I’ve got things to do. I don’t have time to sit around and hold hands with the whole town.” Joel told her.

“C’mon, dude,” Ellie begged, “You don’t even have to stay the whole time, I just–”

“I said no.” Joel’s voice was stern. He sat up, reaching for the mug of coffee that sat on the small table and took a sip. It tasted cold and bitter, but it was something. 

“Fine, whatever.” Ellie huffed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Well.. how are you doing?” 

Joel raised an eyebrow, sighing loudly, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

“Okay, great.” Ellie rolled her eyes as she walked past him and toward the door.

“Where’re you goin’? You just got here.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I came to see how you were, now I’m gonna go and tell her that you’re doing fine, and that you’re not coming tonight.”

“Tell who?” 

“You know.” Ellie noticed the change in Joel’s demeanor as he put two and two together, though she’s surprised it took him that long to realize it. He became more tense and sat up a little straighter, and she swore she could see fire dancing behind his eyes. But whether that fire was from rage or some remnants of passion for you, Ellie wasn’t sure.  

Joel furrowed his brows in confusion as he tossed the contents of the mug down the sink, “Since when does she ask about me?” 

“She always does.” Ellie’s voice is soft as her gaze focuses on her fingertips and the sudden transition from her fiery behavior just moments ago catches Joel off-guard. She feels a little like a snitch, like she’d just revealed something personal about you, but your breakup was no secret– and neither was the fact that you still cared about Joel’s wellbeing. But Joel’s confusion about that fact angers her, “Y’know, Joel, just because you stopped loving her, doesn’t mean she stopped giving a shit about you.” 

“I-I didn’t—,” Joel hung his head low, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I never stopped loving her, I—”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” Ellie pressed her lips together, shaking her head as she began to walk towards the door to leave. “I just don’t understand why you guys separated. If she cares about you, and you obviously still love her, why can’t things just be the way they were?” 

Joel’s heart aches, to say the least. He wants nothing more than to just run over to your house and tell you how sorry he is for being an ass for all these months–but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know where the fuck to start. Hell, he doesn’t even know if you’d take him back, so instead, he stays here, thinking of what to do. 

“I-It’s not that simple,” he says as she stands on the porch of the house. “I don’t expect you to understand, it’s just sometimes things don’t work out the way you think.” 

Ellie sighs, not satisfied with his answer. “Okay, okay. Whatever, I guess.” 

“E-Ellie,” Joel called out as she hopped down the porch. She turns to face him, and he knows that what he’s about to say is probably a bad idea–the worst idea he’s had in a long time, but he still can’t stop himself from saying it, “I’ll be there… in town.. for whatever it is...” 

Ellie grins and disappears into the streets, excited. “Meet me at the dining hall at 7:30!”

“Why so specific? Why can’t you just stay and we’ll go together?”

Grumbling loudly and dramatically, Ellie’s eyes widen at the fact that Joel can’t just follow simple directions. “Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, just do it!” 

She doesn’t give him any room to respond or ruin her plan before she’s running down the streets of Jackson.

••• 

You’re in a rush to get ready, trying to look at least somewhat put together after looking disheveled from all the late night patrols. Nobody forced you to take as many shifts as you did, nor did they force you to do them all late at night into the early morning. It didn’t help either that after a shift, sleeping problems plagued you, making it hard to get any kind of rest. Normally you wouldn’t care about how you looked, but today was different. Everyone would be in town, having a good time, and even if you weren’t enjoying yourself, you could at least fake it. 

Ellie is already at the dining hall, sitting at a nearby counter by the time you’re running to get there on time. After relieving the volunteer before you, you begin your shift. There wasn’t much to it–simply serving drinks to the families and townsfolk in line, while they got their food in another one. It was a mundane two and a half hours of pouring, passing drinks, and cleaning spills, but it beat having to do another patrol shift. 

“Hi, what can I get for y–” as you look up from wiping down your area, Joel is standing in front of you. He’s freshly showered, you can tell. His hair is still kind of wet, and brushed back–clearly ditching the unkempt look he’d always donned. It’d been a while since you’d seen him; sure you’d pass him by during shift rotations, but other than that, it seemed that you both subconsciously avoided places the other would be at. His eyes looked tired, and somehow within a year, he seemed to have grown grayer–not that you minded. “Sorry, hi Joel, what can I get you?” 

“Oh, uh, nothin’, I-Ellie..” Joel mentally cursed himself for tripping over his words like an idiot, as if he’s never talked to you before. He’d practiced a million times what to say to you in the mirror, in the event that he had to talk to you. Not once did he take into consideration the feeling of his heart being tugged out of his chest. In all honesty, he was fine—until you looked up at him, and your big, bright eyes ended him right then and there, rendering him unable to form a coherent sentence. “I-I can’t find her.. she told me to meet her here at 7:30.”

“Funny… she said she’d wait for me ‘til after my shift ended at 7:30 too…” You crossed your arms, suspicions rising about Ellie’s plans. What she got out of meeting you and Joel at the same time, you had no idea. 

Another volunteer relieved you, taking your place. As you walked outside, Joel followed and you looked around Jackson for Ellie, who was still nowhere in sight. You’d even checked the stables, which was where she liked to spend time alone, but all you found was Shimmer—her favorite horse. 

Deciding that it was clearly Ellie’s intention to remain gone, you felt satisfied with your searching efforts. “She’ll come find us later, watch.” Then an awkward silence filled the air between you and Joel as you made your way around town.

“Do you, maybe, uh..” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, trying to fill the silence and thinking of something to say. “…wanna have a drink or somethin’? I know how you feel about crowds, so.. maybe we could go back home and just.. talk?” 

Home?

You sighed, trying to play it off cool. “I-I don’t know..”

And that was the truth–you didn’t know. You didn’t know if accepting his offer would cause further damage to you, or actually heal what had been broken. It’d been nearly a year already, surely two adults–practically co-parents– could handle a night of friendly drinks and conversation right?

“Please.” Joel’s eyes pleaded with you, softening as they met yours, and suddenly you couldn’t walk away. As much as you wanted to say no and go home, you don’t do that— you do the opposite. 

Before you can even process what’s going on, you’re sitting nervously on the couch, across from Joel, beer in hand. Nothing has changed since you left, all of the paintings and photos still hung and placed perfectly in the same spots as before–except one. It was a small, Polaroid photo that stood against a lamp, one you’d never seen before. Joel was clearly the photographer, as his arm stretched out as he tried to get you and Ellie in the frame as you both slept. A small, devilish grin evident on Joel’s lips, while you and Ellie snored and slept as if you hadn’t slept in weeks–a moment that was forever etched into the ink of the photo. You couldn’t make out where the picture had been taken, but it brought a wide smile to your face, nonetheless. 

Joel sat there, watching you closely as you examined the Polaroid. He hadn’t realized how much he missed your smile until he saw yours in person tonight. When your attention turned to Joel again, he quickly averted his gaze, suddenly interested in the shape and color of his beer bottle. One conversation led to another, which led to another, and before he knew it, you both were on your fourth beers of the night. He’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to you, how much you both laughed when you were together, talking about the stupidest things, dreaming up dreams. For a moment, Joel felt normal, like everything was okay. And if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t remembered the last time he felt like that.  

As the conversation died down, Joel spoke. “I think we’ve been set up.” 

“What gave it away? The fact Ellie said she’d meet us both at the same time or that the moon’s high in the sky and she’s still not here?” You laughed lightly.

“If I’m being honest, I saw it coming,” he admitted. “She’d been reminiscing, asking why things couldn’t go back to the way they were.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” you agree. “She asks me the same thing all the time.”

“And what do you tell her?”

“The truth,” you shrug as if it’s a no-brainer. “Sometimes things just don’t work out between people and they fall out of love. I mean, I didn’t, but–” Your eyes widen at the confession that just slipped out of your mouth, blaming it on the alcohol, but you’re just looking for an excuse to get you out of the mess. You meant exactly what you said, but just hadn’t meant for it to slip out. You sighed deeply, before getting up and thanking Joel for the company. “It’s getting late, I should go now.”

“Wait!” Joel all but jumped toward the door as you turned the knob to leave. He had you cornered now, with nowhere to go. With one arm above you, keeping the door shut, he looked down at your soft eyes, “Do you really think I fell out of love with you?”

Your eyes met the ground, voice getting stuck in your throat as the emotions from the last year washed through your head and prevented you from speaking. Maybe it was the combination of intense feelings and alcohol that did it, but you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. Joel lifted your chin slightly, so that your eyes met his once more, and it pained him to see the hurt in them. “I miss you.” Your words are barely above a whisper as you choke them out.

He uses both thumbs to wipe your tears away, cupping your face, “You’re so beautiful.” Joel leans down slowly, waiting for any sign of opposition, and when he finds none, he takes the opportunity to place a warm kiss on your lips–the first one in a year. It’s all familiar, the way his lips are soft, but his kiss is rough, taking you in like he needs you to stay hydrated. The way that your hands move to his neck and pull him down further into the kiss is all the confirmation he needs to keep going. 

You pull away first, desperate for more, but even more desperate for comfort, “Bedroom.”

Joel nods his head ferociously, leading you quickly down the hall, slamming the door closed with his foot, and laying you down softly. He’s painfully slow at taking his clothes off, and even slower at slipping off yours, unbuttoning your shirt and unclasping your bra. It’s like Joel has every weak spot of your body down to memory when he kisses you. His mouth moves teasingly slow, beginning at your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin to leave a mark or two. God, how he loved seeing you around Jackson with a hickey peeking out of your shirt. He worked his way down your chest, circling his tongue around your nipples and blowing air on them to make you more sensitive. That, combined with the sensation of the rough pads of his thumbs over your nipples send waves throughout your body. Joel smirked as he watched you shiver with pleasure from that alone, because he knew that would happen–he had the beautiful noises you made from the last time he did it etched into his memory. 

You calm down as he kisses every part of your abdomen, even the ticklish spots. But as soon as you think you’re capable of handling whatever Joel throws at you, you let out a loud, whiny moan as he rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties. “God, Joel, please.” 

His touch on your clit is unwavering, and he can feel your wetness begin to grow. “‘Please’ what?” He says, “C’mon, baby, tell me what you want and it's yours.” 

“I-fuck-I… I need you…inside…” You breathe heavily, your brain barely able to function that it’s almost pathetic–he’s barely touched you, and you’re a fucking mess. 

Joel chuckles, giving you a quick and sloppy kiss on the lips, “Not yet, baby, I’m not done with you yet.” 

You’re about to whine, but he pulls your panties off, spreading your thighs forcefully and gripping onto them tightly. His head disappears between your legs and your back automatically arches off the bed as soon as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. Joel groans at the taste of you, totally intoxicated by it–he made a mental note of never wanting to go this long without your taste on his tongue ever again. You grip the sheets with one hand, and grab a fistful of his hair with the other, eliciting a guttural noise from deep within Joel’s throat, and it only spurs him on more. 

He can tell that you’re holding back as you squirm while he’s facedown into you, his tongue exploring every inch of you. “Be loud for me, baby, it’s okay, I know you’ve got it in you. I wanna hear all those pretty noises.” 

It’d been a long time–too long, actually–since the last time you were in this position with Joel, and even then, you’d felt a little embarrassed about being loud, but Joel’s words of encouragement, that he wanted to hear you, gave you the extra push you needed. Becoming more comfortable, you’re able to let loose, free of thinking, and moan, and whine, and whimper as much and as loud as you need to. Joel could feel you relax more, and he was glad you were able to do so… But fuck… he just about came all over the place from all the pretty noises that came out of you. The idea of recording them for later crossed his mind, and he made sure to remember to bring it up to you later. 

The sudden pressure of two of his thick fingers pushing into you while he sucked on your clit makes you gasp loudly, and he shudders pleasantly from the reverberation. 

“O-oh my god, Joel-fuck-I-” You can’t even form a proper sentence, only a string of words manages to come out of your mouth.

“It’s okay, baby, go ahead, let go,” he says softly. “Cum on my fingers for me.” He watches as the pleasure snaps in you, feeling you paint his fingers with your sweet release. He groans at the sight before him–your chest heaving up and down as you try and catch your breath, and your cum dripping out of your pussy and glistening on his fingers is enough to send him into overload. If only he still had that fucking Polaroid camera… 

But he uses your cum as lube, coating his painfully hard cock in it as he lines himself up at your entrance. Joel barely has the tip in when your toes curl and the most erotic moan he’s ever heard escapes your lips. God, how did you ever go this long without him? As much as you knew that Joel was a fucking god in bed, it was like your body had forgotten what it felt like to be completely at his mercy. He slides in slowly, letting you adjust to his size again, knowing that it had been just as long for you as it had been for him, but his cock is so thick and big that he’s only halfway in and you already feel so full. “‘So, so big, Joel… I-”

Joel chuckled as he pushed deeper, “You’ve fit all of me before, and I know you can do it again… Can’t you?”

You nod eagerly, though you weren’t really sure. Before your separation, you and Joel would fuck like there was no tomorrow, meaning that you’d grown used to him filling you up… Now, it’s been a year without him and suddenly it feels like the very first time.  

“There ya go, see,” Joel says as he bottoms out. “Doin’ such a good job.” 

His thrusts are slow at first as he finds the right rhythm, letting the feeling of him settle into you. Then he gradually picks up the pace, and you move your hips in motion, meeting his thrusts and feeling him deeper inside you. He has a monster grip on you that will no doubt leave sore bruises tomorrow, but right now, all you can think about is how fucking good it feels every time his cock slams all the way into you. You pull him down closer to you for a messy, open-mouthed kiss. You’re completely lost, completely owned by Joel at this point. You can feel yourself clench around him as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. He lets out a deep groan as it happens, “F-fuck… not… not gonna last… y-you can’t…fuck.” 

Joel starts to pull himself out, but you lock your hips around him, pulling him in all the way again. He gives you a worried, confused look, “But?”

“I-it’s–it’s okay… Inside… please.” 

He kisses you passionately once more, as his thrusts become more erratic, his head buried in your neck as you feel him twitch and with a final thrust, he cums inside you, filling you beyond capacity with a shaky breath. You pull him against you, skin against skin, as you both come down from your high. Your legs wrap around him, and he never pulls out as you lay in bed together, feeling every inch of each other as close as you possibly can. 

He brushes your face gently with his hand, peppering your face with soft kisses, “I never stopped loving you.” 

You draped your arm around his neck, softly running your fingers through his hair as his eyes rolled and his skin shivered from the sweet, innocent touch. “And never stop, please.” You whispered. 

Joel looked lovingly into your eyes, and he couldn’t remember how he ever got through the year without you, but it was then he vowed to not spend another day like that again. “Never.” 

---

SORRY this took me like 2?3? months to write but i hope it makes up for my time away :P also its almost 4am and im dead so spare me of any errors! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[houjicha]

This is my little contribution to Baccanovember, for the prompt Isolation/Family. This is actually a WIP of the first chapter for a much longer fic that I've been working on for a while, but it also works as a short story~

December 1920

The Gandors' apartment

Firo was lying in a tiny bed, holding his hands over his mouth and struggling to keep his breath steady.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His eyes were starting to burn, and he found a crack in the wall to focus on. The shadow of it seemed to reach across the wall like an ugly, misshapen finger. The wall was ugly, too.

Everything was ugly. Home was even uglier, but at least it was home.

Except he might not be going home anymore.

Breathe in—  There was a hitch. Not a big one, but in the quiet room it was agonizingly loud.

Claire and Berga were arguing, and it didn’t sound like one of their silly fights that ended in a bonk on their heads and unrepentant laughter. They were angry, and it had sent a spike of fear through him. 

I’m old enough to take care of myself, Claire had said.

No kid brother of mine is gonna run away with a buncha clowns, Berga had retorted.

They said I’m good at it, Claire had said, and Pa Gandor ain’t around no more.

Goddammit, Claire, I’m just lookin’ out for ya!

Yeah, but you ain’t my dad, and you can’t tell me what to do! You’re only fifteen. I just turned ten, and that’s more’n old enough to have a job!

Firo was going to be nine. He’d never had a job. He didn’t work because Ma had said to stay in school, stay out of trouble, and let her work, and he did until he got too stupid to concentrate and too angry to keep from fighting with other boys. And now she couldn’t work anyway, and she was probably going to die, and it was like everything had become impossible overnight, and his world just continued to break and break and break.

Claire was leaving, and he was leaving because he was old enough to take care of himself, which meant Firo was going to be too but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to because he was the youngest and the weakest and he needed to grow up like everybody else but instead all he wanted to do was lie here and cry like a little girl. 

“Doesn’t mean you gotta run off!” Berga was saying now. “Don’t you care at all about this family?”

“Yeah, stupid, that’s why I’m leavin’!”

“Who’re you callin’ stupid? C’mere, you little—!” Berga’s yell was cut off by a grunt of pain.

Firo listened for the fight to begin in earnest, but there was only silence.

A few moments later, Berga yelled, “Hey, we’re not finished!” just as the bedroom door suddenly banged open.

“Keith says to go pack so I’m goin’!!” Claire yelled before slamming the door shut again.

Firo waited for Berga to come barging in next, but instead he just heard the distinctive low notes of Keith’s voice rumbling through the walls, and then Berga’s heavy footsteps heading out the front door and down the stairs. Whatever he’d broken his silence to say, the fight was over for now.

Meanwhile, there was a scrape of a drawer and the rustle of Claire’s shirts and trousers hitting the floor. Firo squeezed his eyes shut, and a couple of drops slid down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them off with the back of his hand without making the motion too obvious, but his chest betrayed him with a sudden hiccup.

"Firo?" Claire’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

Firo tried to stay very still. If he had to cry, he at least didn’t want to do it in front of Claire.

"Heeeey." There was a poke in his back. "You okay?"

Firo tried to will his throat to relax before he spoke. "...Yeah." It still came out raspy.

"Nuh-uh." Another poke. "Are you crying?"

"N—" The word cut off as he sensed another hitch in his breath coming. "No." 

"Liar." The mattress shook as Claire climbed onto it, and then there was a weight on his side. He could feel Claire's breath near his face. This time, there was another poke, this time on his cheek.

"Get off!" Firo almost yelled, flinging his arm up hard enough to roll the rest of his body over onto his back. 

As Claire stared back at him, Firo immediately felt his face heating up, and he rolled back over to face the wall again. "Just leave me alone."

Silence.

"Is it your ma?"

"I said leave me alone."

"This is my bed."

Firo crossed his arms, still lying on his side. "Well, maybe I'll sleep on the floor, then."

"Nuh-uh. It's my bed which means my rules which means—" A much heavier weight on his shoulder again, and then Claire's face, upside down. "You gotta feel better."

Firo didn't want to feel better; he wanted his mom to feel better and everyone to come home. He wanted everything to be better. And if the world had to be horrible, then he at least wanted to be sad about it where no one could see.

He rolled until Claire's face disappeared and the other boy's weight was across his back like a heavy blanket. "No," he mumbled into the mattress.

"Why don't you wanna feel better?" 

"...'Cause it won't fix anything." 

"Huh? Why?" 

"'Cause shut up and leave me alone!"

Firo regretted it the instant he said it, and the weight left his back. 

“...Sorry,” he mumbled. He turned his face to the side and looked up from the mattress guiltily.

Firo didn’t want to snap at Claire so much. But he kinda did, too, and he didn’t know why. Because he was stupid, probably. 

Claire sat back with his legs criss-cross and shoved his hands into the open space in the middle. “Nah.”

“No, you were being nice.” Firo sat up and crossed his ankles, too, mirroring Claire’s posture in a hunched sort of way. “...They said she’s gonna die. My ma. I dunno if I’m gonna see her again.”

It was the first time Firo had said that part out loud.

He knew the word “quarantine,” which was a fancy way of saying someone was going to die all alone, as far as he could tell. It made adults scared, and as soon as he said it to Keith, he’d been ushered inside for dinner. But Firo couldn’t eat, so he’d just tried to sleep instead, only to learn he was losing Claire, too. It was more than he could take.

"And Pa Gandor died last year and now you’re g-gonna leave—"

As the words spilled out, there was no stopping it now. His breath was shaky, his nose was all stuffy and gross, and he was making a big mess of everything. 

"And I'm just a crybaby—"

"No, you're not." Claire said, tilting his head. “You’re my friend.”

Firo raised his head slightly. “Wh-what’s that gotta do with it?” he protested, but he already knew he was going to lose this battle. Claire’s pale-brown eyes had that look in them they sometimes got. Like all he had to do was say something, and that made it true.

“You’re my friend,” Claire repeated, “so you're part of my world. That’s not gonna change.”

One time, when Firo was five, he had gone out to play in the snow, and one of the older, bigger kids in the neighborhood had stolen his scarf. Firo had played outside anyway, even taking off his gloves to make better snowballs. When he came home, his mother had taken one look at his bright red face and hands and rushed to heat some water. She’d kept the bath warm and not too hot, but on his frostbitten skin, it had burned.

Sometimes, the things Claire said made him feel like that.

“I am a crybaby, though.” Firo shook his head. “...I’m scared.”

“That means you’re brave,” Claire said. “I heard Pa Gandor say bein’ scared makes you brave, or somethin’.” He pouted a little and crossed his arms. “Then I asked him what if you’re never scared, and he said nobody’s never scared and I said well I am and then he said maybe I should be and then I’d stop jumping off the damn roof.”

Firo laughed a little, and a smile rose to his lips and then fell. “...I don't want you to leave,” he said quietly.

Claire pouted. “C’mon, you too? I told ya, I'm good at it—”

“I know you are,” Firo said with a hiccup. “You’re gonna be the best one in the whole circus. I bet you'll be so good at it you’ll n-never come back.”

Claire paused then. “Nah, I’m comin’ back. I’m gonna go lots of places, but I’m comin’ back.”

“How do you know—”

Claire grabbed his shoulders. “You think I don’t wanna see you again or somethin’? You’re my family.”

Firo swiped at his eyes. Just cause Claire wanted to come back didn’t mean he would. Ma wanted to come back. Pa Gandor probably would if he could, so—

"Argh, listen up!" Claire got to his feet on the mattress and pointed at Firo. "You know what I think? I think you're gonna be fine. You got me and Keith and Berga and Luck and me, and—"

"—You said 'me' twice—" 

"—and I say we’ll always be here for ya!"

With that, Claire crossed his arms and plopped back down onto the bed with enough finality to make the frame screech and scrape loudly across the floor. There was a muffled yell and a couple of loud thumps from below. 

A moment passed in silence.

"Well…what about when you die. You gotta die someday," Firo muttered, a bit petulantly. 

"Aw, c’mon! That’s not gonna be for a hundred years at least.” Claire tilted his head. “But then what happens to everybody else? Does my world just disappear?"

Firo almost started to argue—Claire had been talking a lot lately about dreams or something—but he didn’t want to, really. Right now, he couldn’t imagine the world without Claire, either.

So as Claire swayed from side to side like a wind-up toy in a shop window, Firo just twisted his fingers together in his lap. "You promise?”

Claire snapped out of his reverie. “Yeah! I wanna see all the flying cars and stuff.”

“What if you had a flying car, too?” Firo wondered. “Then you could go all over and come back, easy.”

“All the way to California! Or Italy! Or, um…the North Pole!”

Firo wrinkled his nose. “Santa’s not even real.”

”C’mon, what about the reindeer?”

“There’s no reindeer, either,” Firo retorted with authority. “’Cause the polar bears would eat ’em.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re makin’ that up!”

“No, I’m not! I heard it!”

“Yeah, well, you know what I heard?” Claire said, and hit him with a pillow.

Firo was stunned for a moment, but instead of grabbing a pillow of his own, he viciously yanked Claire’s out of his hands and tried to whack him on the head as hard as he could. It felt good. He wanted to hit him over and over. 

But of course, Claire wasn’t about to take that lying down—figuratively speaking. He leaned back and caught Firo’s hit with his foot, then rolled over to Luck’s bed and snatched up the pillow, and then the fight began in earnest.

With each hit dealt and received, Firo felt his emotions calming a little. Being mad at Claire felt better than being sad, but once he was done being mad, it felt like any other pillow fight with his best friend, and pillow fights were fun.

Finally, he pulled both hands back to just throw his weapon at Claire and call an end to it—but of course, Claire batted it out of the air just in time for the door to open.

And that was how Luck Gandor took a pillow to the face. 

Claire giggled, while Firo pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Sorry, Luck.”

Luck glared at Claire, then snatched the pillow off the floor and hurled it back at him. To Firo, he said, “Keith’s heating the soup again, Firo. He thinks if you’re gonna be awake, you should eat something.”

Firo met Luck’s eyes, and wondered how he felt about all this. He seemed to be okay, but Firo could never quite tell with Luck.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” was all Luck said, and Firo realized that he was feeling better, just a little. And Keith was right; he was getting hungry.

As Firo climbed out of bed, Claire did, too. “You think I can have more, too?”

“You have to ask him,” Luck said, “but probably.”

“Wait, Claire, don’t you gotta get ready?” Firo asked, just as Claire’s arm fell across his shoulders.

“Eh, later,” Claire said, already dragging Firo towards the door.

“Wait—”

Firo barely kept from tripping over the half-packed pile of clothes spilling out of Claire’s drawer, and the ghost of tomorrow brushed against the back of his mind. The knot in his stomach wasn’t gone, and neither was the ache in his chest.

But the weight of the arm around his shoulders was here, too, and Firo let it stay.