#like just watching the flashlight flicker on screen

[timetravelingtoamess]

Had a dream i finally played alan wake 2 but it was on the wii and it was played with the remote + nunchuk and it died and while i was struggling to find a replacement the darkness on screen was coming and the flashlight was dying and i was panicking and im pretty sure thats just exactly what alan was feeling too

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

“Florida?” you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: ghostface!joshwashington x gn!reader WARNINGS: it's pretty self explanatory, no use of y/n GENRE: horror? bro idk SONG INSPIRATION: static by isq [slowed] WORD COUNT: 827 REQUESTED: yes (kinda) NOTE: a very quick one in the name of halloween

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

halloween night feels like any other. outside, trick or treaters call out in muffled excitement, but inside, you’re content wrapped in a blanket on your couch, lights low, fully absorbed in your annual scream marathon. 

there’s a thrill in these movies you can’t get anywhere else. the tension, the mystery, the masked killers with their twisted games. you’d never admit it to most people, but there’s something oddly compelling about ghostface, about the mask, the danger.

as you sink into the cushions, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. glancing over, you see a message from josh.

josh: what’s up?

a small smile pulls at your lips. he’s usually the one making plans, always rounding everyone up for something, but tonight, it’s just you, the killers on screen. 

you: just watching some movies.

josh: home alone?

you: i can handle myself.

his response arrives almost instantly.

josh: sure you can.

you frown slightly, something about it caught your attention. he’s not usually so cryptic. for a second, you wonder if he’s being serious. but it’s josh, if he were pulling something, he’d probably hint at it first.

you shrug it off, getting lost in the movie again, until the lights flicker, then the whole apartment went dark. 

grabbing your phone, instinctively switching on the flashlight.

your phone buzzes with another message.

unknown: don’t feel so brave now, do you?

a chill crawls up your spine. you stare at the message, logic giving way to a nervous edge as you scan the room, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. you swallow, convincing yourself it’s just josh playing tricks on you.

then you hear a knock on your door. three steady, slow knocks that echo through your dark, empty apartment.

you freeze. it’s halloween. it’s probably just a prank. right?

your pulse thudding in your ears as you get up, each step cautious. “josh?” you call, half expecting him to reply.

silence.

you step closer to the door, hand resting on the handle. opening it, you’re met with the empty hallway. but as you turn back into the apartment, your breath catches.

a figure stands in your hallway, draped in a black robe, face obscured by the unmistakable white mask of ghostface. your blood runs cold, heart racing as you stare, unable to fully process what’s happening. you’re rooted in place, caught somewhere between fear and disbelief.

the figure doesn’t move. he just stands there, watching you, tilting his head in a way that’s almost… curious. “josh?” you whisper, voice trembling, hoping for an answer.

but they don’t respond. instead, they take a single step forward, then another, each slow movement deliberate. panic bubbles up in your chest as you back away into the kitchen, hands gripping the counter behind you as they round the corner, closing in on you fast. you try to focus, eyes darting to the nearest exit, but theyre already there, blocking your path.

with nowhere else to go, you press yourself against the wall, trapped as they approach, their gloved hand resting on the wall above your shoulder. for a moment, you’re left staring into the blank eyes of the mask. then they lift his hand, pulling the mask back slowly, revealing josh’s familiar face, his eyes glinting with amusement.

relief floods over you, but it’s quickly replaced by a flush of frustration. “you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, half out of breath.

“ugh i knew it was you.”

his grin widens, but there’s fondness in his gaze that catches you off guard. “happy halloween,” he says softly, his voice dipping lower, laced with something playful, something that makes your skin tingle. he doesn’t move away; if anything, he leans closer.

you let out an exasperated laugh, rolling your eyes. “was this your idea of fun?” you ask, more curious than angry, though your heart still pounded in your chest.

josh’s gaze drops to your lips, and he inches closer, his voice low now, barely audible. “i wanted to see how close you’d let me get,.” his thumb grazes along your jaw, a soft touch that leaves you breathless. 

"and yet here you are…"

you hold his gaze, his words hanging between you. "maybe i wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

before you could fully process it, his lips were on yours, the kiss was sweet . his hand slips around your waist, pulling you against him as he deepens the kiss, both of you caught up in the moment.

when you finally break apart, his gaze lingers on yours, his thumb going back to brushing your cheek. “guess i was right,” he whispers, his voice warm, familiar, with a softness that sends a thrill through you.

you let out a quiet laugh, still catching your breath. “maybe you should try being wrong once in a while.”

he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you close. “nah,” he says. 

“i think i like it better this way.” 

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[edsbug]

I just realized I don’t think I've ever requested a fic from you and I'm???? appalled???? Please forgib 🥺🖤 I'd love to see how Eddie x reader deal with a big storm coming into Hawkins; currently holed up bc of Hurricane Beryl at the moment. 🌀🌩

hii steph!! i hope you made it through the hurricane alright. thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write! i hope you like it<3

thunderstruck

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader.

summary: eddie and reader prepares for a storm. (wc. 1.1k)

contains: horror films, uncle wayne makes a cameo, pure fluff.

The first rumbles of thunder rolled through Hawkins as the sky darkened, heavy clouds gathering in an ominous, bruised mass. You looked out the window of Eddie's trailer, watching the branches of the old oak tree sway in the rising wind. Eddie sat at the small kitchen table, fiddling with a string on his acoustic guitar, his usual energetic demeanor subdued by the approaching storm.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping away from the window. “Need any help with that?”

Eddie looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nah, just trying to get this thing to stay in tune. But thanks baby.” He set the guitar aside and reached for your hand, pulling you gently into his lap.

As you settled against him, the first drops of rain began pounding the roof of the trailer. “Looks like we're in for a big one,” you remarked.

Eddie glanced up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Perfect night for a horror movie, don't you think?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You're impossible. But yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you spent the next hour fortifying the trailer for the incoming storm. Eddie found a stack of old towels and you helped him roll them up, pressing them against the bottoms of the doors to prevent any water from seeping in. You checked the windows, making sure they were securely latched, while Eddie double-checked the flashlights and gathered some candles and matches, just in case the power went out.

As you worked, the wind picked up, howling through the trees and rattling the metal siding of the trailer. The sky was almost black now, flashes of lightning illuminating the landscape in brief, eerie bursts.

You and Eddie settled on the worn-out couch, a stack of VHS tapes and snacks spread out on the coffee table in front of you. The opening credits of Nightmare on Elm Street had just started when the phone rang. Eddie jumped up, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his haste to answer it.

“Hello?” he said softly. “Oh, hey, Wayne.”

You could hear Wayne's voice faintly on the other end, his tone filled with concern. Eddie glanced at you, his expression softening.

“Yeah, we're okay. Just getting ready for the storm,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I've got everything under control. Don't worry about us.”

Wayne's voice rose slightly, and you could make out the words “stay safe” and “call me if you need anything.” Eddie nodded, even though his uncle couldn't see him.

“Thanks, Wayne. We'll be fine. You stay safe at work, okay? Yeah, talk to you later.”

Eddie hung up the phone and turned back to you, a sheepish smile on his face. “My uncle wanted to make sure we were alright. He's stuck at work until the storm passes.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at the concern in Wayne's voice. “That's sweet of him.”

“Yeah, he's a good guy,” Eddie said, plopping back down beside you. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Freddy Krueger.”

As the movie played, the storm raged outside, the sound of rain pounding against the thin roof and thunder cracking in the distance creating an eerie soundtrack. You and Eddie huddled together under a thick blanket, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. The flickering light from the TV cast strange shadows on the walls, adding to the spooky atmosphere.

Every now and then, the power would flicker, the screen going black for a few seconds before the backup generator kicked in. Each time, Eddie would squeeze your hand, his touch reassuring.

“I've got you, sweetheart” he'd whisper, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

As the last credits of Nightmare on Elm Street rolled off the screen, the exhaustion from the night caught up with both of you. Eddie's arm around your shoulders felt warm and comforting, and the rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful state. The flickering TV screen provided a gentle glow as you and Eddie drifted off to sleep on the couch, wrapped in the warm, thick blanket.

Outside, the storm continued to rumble, but it was a distant sound now, more soothing than threatening. The rain had lessened to a gentle drizzle, and the occasional flash of lightning was just a dim flicker on the horizon.

The first light of dawn seeped through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the drenched landscape. Wayne pulled his truck up by the trailer, the engine’s low rumble mixing with the distant sounds of birds starting their morning calls. He stepped out, stretching his tired limbs after a long shift, and glanced at the trailer. The sight of it standing unharmed brought a sense of relief.

Wayne quietly let himself in, careful not to make too much noise. He walked into the living room, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw the two of you on the couch.

Eddie's head was tilted back, mouth slightly open, one arm draped protectively around you. You were curled into his side, your head resting on his chest, the blanket cocooning you both. The TV was still on, a static-filled screen casting a dim light over the room.

Wayne shook his head fondly, moving to switch off the TV. The sudden silence was almost jarring, but neither of you stirred. He then picked up the empty snack bowls and soda cans, placing them quietly on the kitchen counter.

He stood for a moment, just watching the two of you sleep, a sense of pride and affection filling his chest. Eddie had always been a handful, but seeing him like this, so caring and protective, made Wayne’s heart swell.

When you woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and bacon. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing you were still on the couch, nestled against Eddie.

Eddie stirred next to you, his eyes fluttering open. He gave you a sleepy smile, his hair a wild mess. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, stretching. “I think your uncle's home.”

As if on cue, Wayne appeared, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. “Morning, kids,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Hope you two slept well.”

Eddie sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, we did. Thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Good. There's breakfast in the kitchen. Figured you'd be hungry after a night like that.”

You and Eddie exchanged a grateful look before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“Think it's safe to say we survived?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice.

Eddie chuckled, pulling you closer. “Survived Freddy Krueger and a thunderstorm. Not bad for a night in Hawkins.”

[bigdealsgoddog]

Dozing Duty

Observation duty au

Anomoly!Gun park x Security!reader

word count- 3k

content warnings- stalking, threats, choking, cnc, overstimulation, scratching, biting, degradation, monster(?) fucking, bondage(Kind of?)

   You cursed lowly as you could have sworn you saw something flicker against the security screens and lean back in your seat, a loud creak following as you shifted in the chair. It was an annoying reminder for how long you’d been sitting in the same position considering you couldn't remember the last time you heard the sound. It was all just the same thing hours on end, staring at the unmoving and unchanging screens.

    Sure, on occasion there was the flicker of the lights, video distorting and objects moving-the usual reports.

  But you hadn't gotten the usual reports.

    At least not the last few nights. The last few nights you could’ve sworn you kept seeing some figure-some shadow moving across the screens and even hiding in the darkest corners, making it feel like someone was there, that someone was watching you yet anytime you looked-there was nothing. No one there and no anomaly to report. So you’d move on, put your focus on other things like if that chair was always turned to the left or did it really move thirty degrees? You let out a frustrated groan as you rubbed your tired eyes and looked at the clock. ‘Three in the morning, great.’ was all you could think as your eyes slowly traveled back to the screen, locking with the eyes staring right into yours. Your breath hitched and your eyes widened as you realized there was now a figure standing in the middle of the room, staring at you. For some reason it seemed like he didn’t even have a physical form, his body moving and swaying on the video screen almost as if he was fading in and out of the video.

     You didn’t know what to do in that moment, you were frozen in fear as you felt the figures eyes piercing your soul-two little white dots that looked brighter than any flashlight ever could. It wasn’t until the figure was now stepping closer to you-to the camera that your hand flew to the report button, speedily typing in a human like anomaly and before you knew it the video screen went down as the anomaly was being ‘taken care of’.

   The screen came back to life, showing the same boring room as before and the breath you didn’t realize you were holding slowly let itself out. Maybe you should believe your boss more, what could these anomalies even do? You were in the comfort of a security office in a completely different location from the one you were surveying so there was no way any harm could come to you.

..

….

Right?

It wasn’t until you had finally put your guard down and relaxed that you felt a cold hand place itself on your shoulder. Your stomach dropped and your body tensed up, your mind racing a mile a minute wondering who the hell it could be, the door was locked nobody should have gotten in in fact there shouldn't have been anyone in the building for that matter you were told the only people around you especially at this time was the guards at the front gates to make sure no one would enter the building so you should have gotten a call that someone came in right? Maybe they forgot to call or you missed the call but you haven't left your desk and-

    “I don’t like being ignored. It was a cute stunt you tried pulling-thinking pressing that little button would do anything to me but now you’re ignoring me?” Your other shoulder became cold as you felt the persons other hand grab it. Their voice, their hands-it was so unnatural their voice came out confident and low but it almost sounded layered, like not just one person was speaking but multiple, coming in hushed tones, faster yet also slower than the original speaker and their hands-they felt like a corpse- you could almost feel bile rising up from your stomach as you refused to look at them 

    “What do you want?” You tried to sound confident and level headed but even you could hear the shakiness and fear in your voice all the while the person was chuckling at you.

  “What a stupid little thing you are-i’ll let you take one guess what I want-it’s simple really” You had to fight the chill going down your spine when the person started running his fingers through your hair, seeming to be enjoying your discomfort “although…how about this, get it right for a reward-get it wrong and i’ll tell you but you’ll have to suffer the consequences after.”

 Consequences? You didn’t even know what this thing was let alone what it would or could do to you if you happen to guess wrong. 

   “I don’t-how am I supposed to guess when I don’t even know who or what you are” You tried to bargain, your voice sounding hesitant as you tried to buy yourself a little time or at least a little more guessing room. You didn’t want to find out what those consequences might mean. You heard another chuckle-this one not sounding as layered-maybe a little…a little more genuine? They’re-his voice came out clear now-less layered and more..human more…much more gruff

   “Alright then.” As your chair spun around, you could see the shadows fall of what was the previous figure revealing a handsome young man, his eyes still carrying that pitch black darkness that pierced into your soul but his forearms were covered in tattoos, revealed by the slick black button rolled up to his elbows. He had matching inky black pants and shoes that almost seemed to blend into the floor and yeah maybe you are tired but you’re certain that even if the lights were on you’d assume he was melting into the floor. He grabbed your armrest to stop the chair, both of his arms are on either side of you and effectively caging you in. “Gun. Now guess.”

   Wait, gun? What the fuck did he mean by gun? Was that a part of a threat? “I-uh-i-i-” You stuttered, your thoughts were going a mile a minute and even though you were noting that this man was incredibly attractive it was almost being drowned out by the millions of other thoughts racing through your head. 

  “I-i-i-is not an answer” He grabbed you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him when you looked away, trying to think of something-anything really “Answer it.”

  “Um-money?” You hesitated, the only possible reason could be he was trying to rob the place? But why the hell would some shadowy figure of darkness want money? In fact what the hell would a shadowy figure of darkness even want? You were regretting your choice-especially when he started to chuckle again, shaking his head as you could see a grin starting to form on his face, scrunching up the x scar on his nose just a bit as his smile grew wider.

   “Wrong.” He cooed as you began to shake, his hand coming up in an almost comforting manner on your cheek “I wanted a new toy. So now you’ll be my new toy-as punishment of course.”

   “What do you mean by toy?” You weren’t comforted in the slightest by the action, much more concerned by what he meant. 

  “Exactly what I mean, a new toy. A new toy to play with” His hand trailed to your neck and shoulder-almost like he was petting you “To tease” His nails lightly dragged from your shoulder to the base of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his nails lightly scratched the your scalp at the base of your neck and carding through your hair “And to break” He suddenly tugged on your hair, making you gasp and let out noise that sounded close to a moan. He smirked as your face went bright red and your eyes widened but before you could say anything, he captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, nipping and biting at your lips as his other hand snuck into your shirt. You gasped, opening your mouth and letting him immediately start to explore, completely overwhelming you with him and only him. You tried to get a grip on the situation, reaching out and grabbing the man’s shirt while he completely overpowered you, only pulling away to let you get a breath of fresh air before immediately going back in. 

   It was hard to keep track, somehow you could feel his hands on the back of your head, under your shirt, creeping into your pants and even grabbing at your wrists, it was all so dizzying even when he pulled away to start biting and sucking at your neck and not sparing any mercy like he had with your lips. 

    “Wait-wait stop-” You tried to say breathlessly, just barely grabbing the mans attention as he acknowledged you with a grunt “I still don't know you-you’re name-what do you mean by-” You let out a whine as he bit down on the sweet spot on your neck, squirming in the chair and making even more hands grab at your waist, holding you in place. 

   “I already told you you stupid toy. '' He pulled away, licking at the dark mark he left behind to look up at you “My name is Gun. Now enough of the twenty questions.” He pulled off your shirt before pulling you up out of the chair, hands grabbing your wrists to hold them high above your head as he made quick work of your pants. You looked up to try to see what was holding your wrists only to see that familiar inky blackness around your wrists. It must’ve been him-that eerie feeling of being watched constantly on your back, it had to have been him. How long has he been watching you?

   Before you knew it you were completely bare in front of Gun as he stepped back to admire the frazzled and confused mess you had become already. His spit still coated your lips, swollen and a little bruised and didn’t look any better than how your neck was practically sporting a new polka dot pattern. “You’ve just looked so bored sitting in that chair, staring back at me all day. Did you even know I've been watching you all this time?” He started walking around you, getting a full view of your body. “I’ve heard you groaning and moaning for something to entertain you. Is this entertaining enough for you?” He finished his question with a sharp smack to your ass, making you yelp “You thought you’ve been all alone this whole time-poor little thing.” He grinned and smacked your ass again but harder, as you let out a cry you felt a cold pressure cover your mouth, wisps of shadow poking in your line of sight and you realized he had completely silenced you. “It really is a good thing were mostly alone here-im sure if those stupid guards were any closer they would’ve heard your pathetic whining” He moved up closer to you, his whole body enveloping you as his arm reached around you to start playing with your chest, his other hand resting on your stomach before it slowly started trailing lower and lower, making you whimper and squirm. 

    “When im done with you you wont even have a voice to scream with” His voice came out much more sinister than it had and before you knew it he had you bet over, the shadows still holding your wrists up but behind your back. He made quick work to spit on his fingers before tracing your hole, smirking as you continued to squirm more, trying to get him to push his fingers in “What a little slut you are, first you were terrified of me and now you’re whining for more? That’s pathetic really” He snickered, teasing his finger into the first knuckle before pulling right out, tracing around and around once more. “Are all humans as needy and horny as you?” He teased, leaning over you and making you feel even more trapped-not like you could do anything before this anyway. You were screwed the moment gun set his sights on you. You could feel the frustration building in your stomach as he continued to tease you, your legs shifting and moving as you tried to give yourself relief or finally convince him to give you more when suddenly he pushed three fingers down to the last knuckle inside of you, making you tense and arch your back with a whine from the stretch. “Don’t take it back now, I saw how you were practically begging me to fuck you the way you’re moving around. I felt you twitching on my finger” He said snarkily as he started to pump his fingers into you. You couldn’t remember when he took the shadows away from your mouth, all you could think about was how loud you must be with all your moaning and you were praying the guards would stay by the door and not try to check on you. 

    His hand came around to wrap around your throat, giving a firm squeeze and cutting off your sounds and air. Your stomach started to tighten up as he found your g spot, slamming into it over and over and it all became overwhelming and dizzying again. There wasn’t any point to try to keep any thoughts in your head because he was effectively cutting them all off and filling everything in with him-just him. You tried to warn, to say something but you're certain the way your walls convulsed around his fingers was enough warning you were about to cum. He let go of your throat, allowing you to suck in a big gulp of air right before you cried out, a loud moan as your orgasm slammed over you. His now free hand was cracking another hard smack on your ass before gripping it tight enough his nails were leaving marks in the skin. You tightened up around him as he did it, your hips jerking into his hand as your body was chasing the pleasure. 

   Thankfully, he pulled his hand away only to start tracing the head of his dick at your entrance and making you let out a whimper “No-no please wait I can’t handle it yet-i need-i need a minute-” 

  “No you don’t” His words came out more layered and distorted like they had before, like he was on the very edge of controlling himself before starting to push his entire length into you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan as he continued to stretch you seemingly beyond your limits. It was the most full you’d felt until he kept pushing and pushing and pushing “Too much! Too much you’re too big-can’t take anymore-” You could feel the harsh slaps on your ass once more, a choked cry escaping you as he just kept smacking until a nice red hand print was left behind “You’re gonna take all of it. It’s part of your punishment, remember? I told you you would face the consequences.” He finally pushed himself all the way in with a groan, wrapping his arms around you to hold you in place once the shadows had finally let go of your wrists. Your arms fell to your sides like limp noodles, little to no circulation left in them but it was the least of your worries when gun had pulled out and quickly slammed back in, setting a pace that was hard for you to keep up. You weakly tried lifting your arms, putting your hands against the wall in an attempt to brace yourself but it didn't matter, guns thrusts were hard enough to push your cheek into the wall, pressing you harder and harder against the wall as you tried to lift yourself up, pushing against the wall really anything. 

   You could feel his nails claw against your thighs and you spread your legs more for him despite your overstimulated body trying to tell you otherwise. You could hear him curse under his breath before reaching around to start teasing and playing with you again, bringing you closer to your next orgasm “Cum-you better fucking cum on my dick before I cum-hurry it up you’re so fucking tight” He let out a low moan that sounded like music to your ears and you tightened around him, trying to pull yourself together but instead unraveling around him like he commanded. He let out another groan before he pulled out of you, spinning you around before pressing you up against your desk, lifting you up and spreading your legs before he was already pushing back into you, his hand quickly moving to wrap around your throat once more. 

    Your body shook as he continued, proving to not have been nearly as close as you had already been. He looked up at you, making eye contact for the first time since he reappeared in front of you outside of the screen like he had. He leaned in to capture your lips in a breathless kiss as he worked himself up to his own orgasm, thrusting into you deep enough for you to practically feel him in your lungs. Tears started to well up in your eyes before they fell from your cheeks-everything being just too overwhelming and before it could get any more intense-

   Suddenly you were sitting in your chair again, fully dressed and untouched. You blinked the dazed and confused expression away, brought back to reality by the security guard that had opened the door to your ‘office’

   “You should know better than to be sleeping on the job. If you can’t handle this, go home-we need eyes on that screen at all times.”   “Right-right im sorry-sorry-” You mumbled, rubbing your face as the guard gave you an odd look before shaking his head and walking away. Shaking your head and hands out you decided it was probably just a wild dream due to your sex life not being so active as of late. Until you looked at the screen and felt your chest tighten, the heat rising to your cheeks as you read the ten words that weren’t immediately noticeable had appeared by one of the corners you had been observing earlier.

  “We’re not done, I didn’t finish playing with my toy”

[piss-pumpkin]

💫“I sort of like you”🌙

Older!dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 8, ~3.2k words, masterlist Prev

It was rather lucky for you that Aunt Susan, affectionately known as lazy Susan, had a spare room. A room that was rather empty before you started to come for the summer. But it did feel like home now, after the years. Even if you spent half your nights at the Mystery Shack.

Your room in her house was a tad bit odd, mostly filled with things she found while you were gone, collected because she thought you’d like them. She wasn’t wrong. On the bed were a few plushes, most of which you’d never seen in a normal store before. A horseshoe crab, a cat with human eyes, and a clown doll, plain and simple. 

Rather redundantly, there was a couch on the wall opposite to the bed, despite the small size of the room. You couldn’t think of a time you sat on it instead of the bed. 

It was a fine night to spend alone. You fell into the horseshoe crab as you sank into your mattress, and pulled out a laptop. You glanced outside through the window before starting the computer. The sun had set, and the dim purple of twilight was falling outside. You smiled, hearing cicadas through the glass. Small town summer night sounds were good. You could even hear the moths flutter by as they tried to find the light. 

Sighing, you started up to turn off the light. No use confusing the creatures outside any longer, and it wasn’t like you needed to see. The blue glow from the screen was enough. 

                                             …

Breaking you from the trace induced by YouTube, was a vibrating of your phone beside you. Groggily, you picked it up to read it.

Dipper: hey

You pursed your lips, trying not to smile on instinct. Squinting, you started to type back hesitantly. It wasn’t often he just say ‘hey’… he must know you’re annoyed. 

Y/n: hello

Dipper: can I come over 

You stuck out your lips, moving them around as you thought. You glanced at the window, now darker. All you could see was a firefly, and the silhouette of the tree line. Susan must be having a late night at the diner… maybe that was for the best if he was gonna come over. 

You sighed, completely unable to hold on to the angry feeling as your thumbs started to move. 

Y/n: yea 

You crossed your legs on the bed, wiggling your feet under a blanket. It wasn’t often either of you asked to see each other. On a usually day, you just showed up at each others houses. He must be off. 

Y/n: I’ll unlock the door

You threw your legs off the bed, carefully gracing the floor before using your phone flashlight to find your way to the front door. If Susan came home before Dipper arrived, you’d probably get in trouble for leaving it open. You left it open for him. 

You skimmed over his quick thanks text as you walked back, eyes readjusting to the blue light as you settling back into your bed and cradled your laptop. 

Soon enough, not even a full YouTube video later, the next text came in. 

Dipper: I’m here

You tilted your head. That was fast. 

Y/n: Lock the door behind you. 

On the other side of the house, you head the door quietly open and shut. You smiled, hearing his footsteps echo closer as he approached your room. You slouched back against the pillows and the headboard, watching the door. The light from his flashlight flickered under the frame as he paused in front of the threshold. Softly, he knocked twice against the wood. 

You rolled your eyes, not particularly wanting to shout through the walls. You started to type. 

Y/n: 👍

 You could hear the buzz of his phone across the room, in the other side. Slowly, the knob started to turn. The shadows were behind him, and you squinted to try and see better. 

“Hey,” he said softly, slipping in the door and closing it behind him. His sweater rested in his shoulders still, despite the warmth of summer.

“What’s up?” You asked. More like a statement, really. You shut your laptop, sitting up to give him your full attention. 

Dipper exhaled, smiling, if only slightly, as he sat down on your couch. Oof. He must be serious about something. On any other day, he’d flop right down in the bed beside you. Curious, and not wanting to overstep, you crawled to the edge of the bed, taking a seat leaned against the wall. 

Dipper grimaced, staring at the floor for a moment. He sighed, “Sorry about earlier today, Y/n,” he started. “I, uh- didn’t mean to be weird.”

You chuckled, folding your arms. “You’re always a little weird, my guy.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah…” he rested his head on the back of the couch, looking at you with a side glance. “I just…” he paused, closing his eyes for a second. “Can we forget about all that?”

You pursed your lips. You had no intention on forgetting that. Because it seemed like whatever you’d said in your sleep was going to haunt him, and he passed that curse into you. You nodded, a little white lie. “Uh, sure, yeah… consider it forgotten.” 

He sighed with a smile, relief, you assumed. He bounced back to sit up, crossing his legs and facing you. A few feet apart never felt so close. You didn’t speak, because there had to be more. 

He smiled, the cornered of his mouth tugging up, seemingly against his will, the way he looked down to hide it. “I just got really awkward because, just-“ he glanced up, and even in the dark you could see the red in his face. Why didn’t he turn on the light when he came in? You fought yourself to not laugh at him for it. Dipper moved his lips around, thinking. “Hear me out on something?” he asked, innocently enough.

”yeah,” you said simply, sinking into the mattress and the wall. More confused than anything. 

“I was…” he smiled, bringing his hands together. “A little weird because… you know that feeling where you want to say something, but don’t know how?” 

You nodded along with him, following. Unfortunately, you were familiar with that one. If only he knew how well. 

“-well, there’s something I do want to tell you, but it’s… difficult,” he laughed softly. He paused to look at you, elbows resting on his knees as he hunched slightly. Slowly, his head fell, and hair covered his eyes. Quietly, he muttered, “don’t laugh, yeah?”

Your eyes widened, and you nodded. Not like he could see you, with eyes trained on the floorboards like that. Quickly, you realized, nodding again as you sputtered, “yeah, yeah, of course.” And God, the single thought running through your head was clear. What’s he going to say. And even scarier, is this going where I think it’s going? The obvious answer looked you dead in the eyes. You gripped the sheet on your bed, palms sweaty. 

He looked up again, and his tired eyes met yours. He smiled a soft exhale, and clasped his hands together. “I sort of like you,” he said simply. 

Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched, and you prayed that he didn’t notice. Your muscles twitched as you thumbed over your beds blankets. A few feet away from him never felt entirely too far away until now.

But he wasn’t done. “More than sort of, actually, I don’t know why I said that,” he laughed, sitting up again. “I definitely more than sort of like you, I really like you, Y/n,” he smiled, red in the face. “In, uh- the not friend way…” he paused, pursing his lips. “Well- the friend way too, I guess… just, also in the way that I definitely want to be more then friends.”

Unfortunately, your mouth hung open just slightly, which was rather embarrassing. The moment he finished, you closed it. You swallowed, and the action was incredibly difficult. All summer. The  thing you wanted all summer. A confession. Now. Here. Were you ready? You’d have to be. 

Dippers eyes were wide, and an uneasy smile was wide on his lips. Even in the dark, you saw how pink his face was. “So, uh- thoughts? On that?” He asked sheepishly, playing with his thumbs.

Well, shit. You should probably say something. Wordlessly, you stood up. With wide and dilated eyes, you walked over to the couch. Your feet were near silent on the floor as you did. For a moment, you stood over him, and he looked up at you, mild panic on his face. But his anxiety seemed to be quelled when you smiled, and sat down across from him. 

”Uh-“ he started, almost starting to reach a hand out to you before recoiling it away. His eyes were wide and face was somehow, even redder. 

Where were the words? You had so many earlier. All the words. You smiled, leaning towards him. Leaning into him while you spoke was such a habit. So easy and natural. Like instinct, your hand slowly cut through the heavy air, and found his. 

You’d never been more unsure taking his hand. First, you touched it, more like a tap, on the palm. You smiled down at the couch, taking note on how he was sweaty. Maybe annoying to some people. More endearing than anything bad to you.  

Carefully, you slid your fingers up and found a grip on him, fingers laced together. You sighed softly, readjusting your hand to better fit his, forming a tighter lock. His hand was bigger than yours. 

“Dipper,” you finally said. Your heart pounded in your chest, and it really should have been harder to meet his eyes. Maybe you’d built up a tolerance for him, through all your flirting. I guess it worked. 

You could see he was fighting to keep eye contact, occasionally glancing at the floor or the window. “Y-yeah?” He asked sheepishly. 

You smiled, shaking your head and staring down at the cushions beneath you. “I hope there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in your mind that I feel the same way about you,” you breathed. Your face was almost starting to hurt from smiling. 

It was his turn to have his breath hitch, getting caught in his throat. He leaned back a bit, loosening grip on your hand. “Wait, really?” He sputtered quickly, looking at you with wide eyes and an even redder face.

The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile as you started to laugh, shaking your head. “The fuck do you mean, really?!” You shook your head, baffled. “I thought I had all the subtlety of getting of hit by a train, do you legitimately think there’s a chance that I don’t like you?”

Dipper flushed, and moved to cross his arms at his chest. Promptly, he realized the action was impossible, given one of his hands was taken. He grumbled slightly, and ran his free fingers through his hair. “Well, I wasn’t sure for… a while,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But uh- you half confessed to flirting with me in your sleep the other night… I think.”

You jaw could have hit the floor. “I did what?” You shot him a look if bewilderment, “God, that’s what that was about today? All that shit you were saying?”

Dipper shrunk slightly, “yeah…” he winced. 

“I can’t believe I’d snitch on myself like that,” you exclaimed. “God damn.”

Dipper chuckled, “I mean, I’m kind of glad you did.” He glanced at your interlocked hands between you. “I don’t think I could have said anything if you hadn’t.”

You smiled, “I don’t know if we’d have to worry about that, my flirting patience was growing thin.”

”Flirting patience,” Dipper asked, trying to hold back a smile and seem as unimpressed as possible. 

You shrugged, “Hey, I’ve done work trying to flirt with you, not my fault that you’re a little thick.”

He blinked a moment, sticking out his lips. Thinking face. “Wait, so, you actually flirt with me?” 

Your mouth fell open, and eyes squinted. He did not just ask that. The simple answer to that question, yes, was not a strong enough word. “Dipper, do I have to kill you?” You gasped. “what do you mean, asking that question.” You leaned in more, eyes wide. 

He grimaced, putting his free hand in the air to surrender. “I take that as a yes?” He muttered. 

You shook your head, pulling back as the wave of his obliviousness hit you like a force. “Yes, Dipper,” you stated flatly. “I’ve been flirting with you for entirely too long, and it appears my efforts have been in vain.”

Dippers lips curled, and you couldn’t read the expression. He squinted, looking anywhere but you. His eyes fell on the window, where he followed a firefly’s path. “Well, I mean- now I’m starting to see it, looking back.”

”God, I do have to kill you, Dip,” you sighed. “You’re killing me. I don’t exactly try to hide my intentions.”

He looked back at you, face somehow even more red than you’ve ever seen it. His ears too. “Well looking back, some things are… making more sense, with that in mind,” he bumbled. 

You leaned up against the back of the couch, “I spend half my nights at your house, and I don’t think I’ve slept anywhere there but your bed, Dipshit.”

He grimaced, stiffening as a terrified smile crossed his lips. “Right,” he chirped. “That’s true!” His face looked moist in the moonlight from the window. 

You smiled, shaking your head, and thumbing gently over his hand in yours. “Things clicking now, eh?”

He laughed putting his palm to his face. “God, I thought it was all jokes,” he smiled. 

You smirked, tiredly wiping your eyes. “For you? I’m serious’d up everyday,” you claimed. 

He squeezed your hand, and your heart pounded in time with it. “God, you’re the worst,” he laughed.  Carefully, he took your other hand in his, and laced your fingers the same as the other. “So, to confirm, just for… confirmation,” he stuttered, smiling wide. “We both was to be in a romantic relationship with each other.” He couldn’t look you in the eye in the word romantic, instead beaming down at the floor for a moment.

You smiled, leaning towards him. “Yes, I do want that,” you smirked. He wore a shy smile nicely illuminated by the moon. 

“G-great,” he stuttered. 

You smiled, “great.”

A heavy silence filled the air. Almost awkward. Almost. This was it, what you wanted, and the feeling of his hands in yours had never been so heavy. So grounding. The couch beneath you was soft, and in your little restless movements you felt it rub against you. 

There was still so much you wanted to say. So much. Your heart thumped in your chest, desperately wanted to air out years of pining and longing. I’ve loved you since forever, you wanted to say. But love and forever aren’t usually words people use a minute after confession. 

“Y/n?” Dipper said softly, cutting through the silence. You snapped out of your head, blinking a few times, and refocusing your eyes on his face. 

“Yes?” 

He flushed, lowering both your hands to rest them on the couch between you. “You’re one of my favourite people, and one of the reasons I love coming to gravity falls in the summer.”

Your eyes widened, breath catching in the back of your throat. Maybe he was the same as you, then. “I-“ you started, hands twitching. You scooted closer, leaving barely an inch between your knees and his. “Yeah, no. Same here.” You looked up at him, faces barely a foot apart. You pursed your lips, mustering courage. If he can confess, I can say this much. “Y-you’re really important to me, too, Dip,” you smiled. “Our little adventures are probably my favourite part of summer.”

You didn’t say everything, but you said enough. You looked down at your knees, slowly lifting up from your seat so you knelt on the couch. You sank into the cushions as your weight shifted, nearly sending you off balance. Dippers hand in your own steadied you. 

On your knees, you took careful waddle steps closer to him, and in a swift motion, collapsed into him and wrapped your arms around him. You landed sitting just barely not in his lap.

You could hear and feel a muffled laugh escape his lips as he braced himself to catch you. It was so natural the way he hugged you in turn, hands wrapping around your waist and back. Like it had been done a thousand times before, and would be done a thousand times more. 

Dipper buried his face into your shoulder, and against your skin, you felt the curl of his lips in a wide smile as his grip on you tightened. 

You nestled your face into his neck, feeling a tickle from his hair. He smelled vaguely like the forest. The lingering scent of grass was stuck in his hair. 

“You wanna stay here?” You asked, trying your head away so you weren’t right in his ear. You tapped your fingers along his back restlessly, energized and excited. 

Dipper nodded, “If I can, yeah.” 

You snickered, “Susan likes you, dude.” You glanced at the door, as if she’d walk in on cue. Still at work. Thank god. You didn’t feel like asking, nor telling her about your relationships recent development. “I’m not gonna ask, she’s cool.”

“Hrmm,” Dipper pondered in your ear disapprovingly. “She’ll be okay with that?”

You smiled, and did your best Minecraft villager noise in mockery. “Hrmmm,” you teased. “Yeah it’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s not like anyone asks when I stay over at your house.”

Dipper sighed, “yeah, no. You’re right about that one.” He pulled you forward onto his chest as he laid back on the couch. “If you say so, I suppose you’re never wrong,” he smirked. 

You froze for only a second as you landed on him, head resting on where his chest met his shoulder. Very quickly you relaxed as your hold on him loosened, and half your body fell to the cushion beside him.

Your Moment hesitation must have scared him though. “Wait, is this okay?” He sputtered quickly, glancing down at you to look for any sign of discomfort.

You laughed, “Yeah, Dip.” You could feel his thundering heartbeat on your hand as you reach an arm around him. “It’s perfectly alright.”

His chest fell with a sigh of relief.  

You stayed up a little longer, but when the adrenaline and excitement boiled down to a quiet contentment, you and Dipper ended up falling asleep on the couch. The bed was only a few feet away, but that was too far. In the summer heat, no blanket was needed when you had the warmth of his arms around you. Finally. His arms. A place where you fit perfectly. 

Next

Yippee! They did it! The confession arc still isn’t over tho, it ends when they kiss we’ve still got a bit more to go :D

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque (Lmk if you wanna be added)

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: The End

A/N: This. This series is my Mona Lisa, my Sistine Chapel, and these final brush strokes literally tore me apart. I poured my soul into this one. If you hate it, please don't tell me. But if you love it, please do because this is my everything. I hope it's enough.

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death, illness, reference to sex, I think that's all.

Word count: ~2.5k

Four and a half years. That's all you have left. It's not enough.

******

The years slip away with Elvis going back and forth every couple of months like he did before. The kids get older, you get older, and Elvis gets older too. Every time he leaves, it tears out another piece of your heart knowing it's getting closer and closer to the last time you'll see him. He's in good spirits every time he visits, but it's hard not to notice his body declining. Making a portal to send him home gets harder and harder, but he still maintains that he's fine. You both know he's not, but what is there to do about it?

And then, before you know it, it's July of 2027, or 1977 for him. John Jessie is 10, Erin Love is 7. Your babies have been replaced with kids and your youthful, vigorous husband is replaced with a man you know is past his prime. He doesn't know it, but you do. He has a little over a month left and you find yourself falling apart at the smallest things. He kisses the back of your hand while you all watch a movie together and you have to get up and go to the bathroom to weep. He sings in the shower and you lay in your bed and rock your body while the tears stream down your cheeks. You drive to dinner with him in the backseat of your minivan between the kids watching a movie on the little screen that comes down from the ceiling of the car and when he laughs you almost have to pull over to keep from crashing as you drive with teary eyes.

He stays with you for a full three weeks because you continue making excuses to keep him around. You need him to help with this or the kids have something going on that he should be there for. In reality, you can't bear the thought of saying goodbye. Because this time you know it's really going to be goodbye. And you can't tell him, so he'll treat it like any other parting. He'll kiss your cheek and say "until next time, honey" like he always does.

But you know there won't be a next time. And the knowing is eating you alive.

In early August, a summer thunderstorm rips through in the middle of the night. Elvis is still there, wrapped around you breathing softly as you lay awake trying not to cry. There's a sharp flash of lightning and not ten seconds later, a crash of thunder tears into the quiet night. You listen for opening doors and sure enough, in less than a minute Erin is in your room and on your bed.

"Daddy!" Elvis sits up and she snuggles into his warmth. He strokes her hair and shushes her gently.

"You're okay, baby girl. Daddy's got you."

John Jessie walks up to the bed cautiously.

"She okay? I just came to check on Erin-" There's another flash of lightning and John Jessie jumps. When the thunder crashes, he crawls into the bed next to you. He might be a big 10-year-old, but you're still his mama. The rain is coming down in torrential waves and you hear hail start to plunk against the windows.

You and Elvis sit with both kids in between you and the power flickers. Erin gasps and John Jessie pats her hand.

"It's okay, sister." Elvis kisses her hair.

"Your brother is right, sweetheart. Nothin' to worry about."

Just then, the power goes out fully.

"Daddy!"

"We're alright. Your mama will go get a candle to light." He looks to you in the dark and you grab your phone and turn the flashlight on. Then, you slide out of bed to find a candle and a lighter. It takes you a minute of fumbling around the house to get what you're looking for. When you make your way back down the hall to the bedroom you pause just outside the door and your heart stops.

He's singing.

In the twilight glow I see

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When we kissed goodbye and parted

I knew we'd never meet again

Love is like a dying ember

And only memories remain

And through the ages I'll remember

Blue eyes crying in the rain

Some day when we meet up yonder

We'll stroll, hand in hand again

In a land that knows no parting

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When he reaches the end of the song, you're on your knees on the floor in the hallway, tears soaking the front of your night shirt, biting your knuckle and trying not to hyperventilate.

How will you survive without him?

You won't. You can't.

The power flicks back on and you hear both kids cheer. You quickly try to pull yourself back together and as you do, you make a decision.

You're not sure how you'll pull it off, or if you even can, but your mind is made up to try.

You walk back into the room and get back in bed with a new determination.

"You okay, honey?" Elvis looks at you curiously. You smile brightly.

"Mhmm! Now, let's get these kids back in their own beds." He shakes his head.

"You're somethin' else, honey. Twenty years together and you still keep me on my toes." He leans over and kisses you softly and then you each take a kid back to their bedroom. When you come back together, you settle into his arms and relax. Tomorrow, you'll think of a plan.

******

The next day comes and goes and so does Elvis. While the kids are at school, you make love and open a portal. You give him the next rendezvous point for the fall, knowing you'll see him before then. As expected, he kisses you and says he'll see you next time. Before he leaves, though, you grab him one last time and pull him into a deep kiss. Memories of every one of your kisses over the last 20 years comes crashing into you and you shake as you hold him, not wanting to let go. You have your plan, but if it doesn't work out, you want your last kiss to be a real one.

"Honey, do you want me to stay?" The portal shimmers behind him.

"Yes. But I know you can't."

"I don't have to go right now. We can make another one later." You look into his eyes, the same eyes that met yours in fear when he first appeared in 2007.

"No. If you don't go now, I'll never let you go."

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" He doesn't want to leave you if there's something wrong.

"I'll be fine. Now go. I'll see you soon." He smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

"I love you with all of me, y/n. Always have and I always will."

"I love you too, Elvis." He squeezes you tightly one last time and then turns and walks through the portal. When it disappears, you sink to the floor. You have no more tears, so instead you pray. You pray for him, for his body and his soul. You pray for yourself and your kids. And you pray that your plan will work.

******

On August 15th, 1977, at 10:30 pm Elvis arrives at his dentist's office. It's a rather routine appointment, so he doesn't think too much of it. But when he gets back to the room and sees the shimmering portal, he's stunned.

This is not your agreed-upon meetup time or place. Somehow, he's alone in the room, but he knows he doesn't have much time before the dentist comes back. He decides there must be some urgent reason for you to show up here and a pang of worry hits him. Hopefully the kids are alright. The dentist knocks to let him know he's coming back in the room and Elvis takes a breath and walks through the portal, hoping he can get back without the dentist noticing.

"Honey, what the-" and then he sees you. Your eyes are wild and you're chewing on your thumbnail. It looks like you haven't slept in days, because you haven't, and your eyes are puffy and red with the remnants of your last crying spell. He immediately walks to you and wraps his arms around you. "What happened? Is it the kids?"

You lean against him and take in his warmth. You're afraid to move or speak in case something you do upsets him and causes what you're trying to avoid.

"No, it's not the kids. They're fine."

"Then what is-"

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?" You back up and look into his face. How will you tell him?

"You- if..." You trail off, not sure what to say.

"Honey, you're scaring me. You better tell me what's going on right now."

"I have to tell you something. And I need you to trust me. And then you have to make a choice." Your heart is pounding in your chest. You've thought of this moment so many times in the past two weeks and now it's here. The decision to give him a choice was not an easy one, but you know him. Telling him what to do is never the right option.

"Y/n. What the hell are you talking about?"

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and pray silently. Then, you open your eyes and look at him standing in front of you.

"You're going to die tomorrow." It hangs in the air between you like some tangible thing.

"What?" He almost whispers it.

"If you go back, you will die tomorrow. You have to."

"What do you mean, I have to?"

"Because you already did. Look." You hold your phone up to him and show him on Google. Elvis Presley, January 8th, 1935-August 16th, 1977.

He backs away from you and covers his mouth in shock. He shakes his head.

"No. I don't believe it."

"Elvis, why would I lie to you about this?" He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. He searches yours for evidence that this is some kind of cruel trick, but all he finds is sincerity and desperation.

"You said I have to make a choice."

"Yes. If you stay, I can take you to a hospital and we can try to save your life. But you can never go back. You'll be stuck in this timeline forever."

"I'll never see Lisa Marie again."

"No."

"I'll never perform again."

"Not as Elvis Presley, no."

"Elvis Presley is dead."

"Yes. But you could live as John Burrows." He sits down in a chair against the wall.

"That's a hell of a choice, honey."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Maybe if I'm supposed to die..." You nod and turn away from him. Your shoulders quake as your body is wracked with sobs. You don't want to impact his decision, but you can't control the anguish you feel at the thought of losing him. "But maybe you were meant to save me."

You turn back to him, your face shiny with tears. He walks to you and wraps you in his arms like he has so many times before. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

"Y/n, you've saved me a hundred times over. You've made my life worth living. Save me one last time."

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"Yes."

******

The dentist rushes out to Ginger in the waiting room.

"Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"Elvis! He's gone!" She stands up and they frantically search the office, the parking lot, and the grounds of the building, but Elvis is nowhere to be found. Ginger calls Vernon in a panic.

"He's gone?"

"Vernon, it's like he disappeared! I don't know what could've happened." Vernon is quiet for a bit.

"Come home. I'll explain everything."

Back at Graceland, Vernon holds a discreet meeting with all of the most important people in Elvis's life. The conversation that occurs has been kept secret forever.

"Elvis is dead. Or, at least, that's what we're going to tell everyone. In 1960, Elvis sat me down once and warned me that this might happen. He said that there was a distinct possibility that he might disappear and never come back. If he did, he made me promise to proceed as if he was dead."

"What if he comes back?" Ginger is hysterical.

"He won't. He assured me he would be gone for good. You know how he is. We have to do what he asked."

Vernon looks around the room carefully.

"Elvis Presley is dead." They all nod in agreement.

"May he rest in peace."

******

The hospital staff think you're crazy when you insist that your husband is going to have a heart attack. Still, they run some tests and detect a good number of things wrong with him. They admit him and are shocked when he does, in fact, have a heart attack. Luckily, because he was already in the hospital, they're able to catch it quickly and stop it from doing too much damage. Still, this begins a health journey that will last the rest of his life.

But that's the important part.

He lives.

The miracles of modern medicine keep him alive well into his 70s. He watches your kids grow up. He cheers louder than anyone at every graduation and cries like a baby when he walks Erin Love down the aisle at her wedding. He even plays with his grandchildren and watches them grow up. He never stops missing Lisa Marie, but he's so grateful for the opportunity to be the dad he always wanted to be for John Jessie and Erin.

The two of you have your fights, like any other married couple, usually about you trying to feed him a heart-healthy diet. At one point he throws a whole baking sheet of salmon into the backyard to prove a point. You want to be mad, so you put your hands on your hips, but when he turns around to face you, you both erupt into laughter. You solve a lot of your problems by laughing together.

And once he's healthier, you spend a lot of time in bed together. Your lovemaking is not nearly as athletic as it used to be, but it's satisfying and you keep things interesting in your own ways.

But one thing has changed. You notice it the first time you have sex after his heart attack. You roll onto your back next to him sweating and breathing heavily and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Shhh. Honey, listen."

"What?"

"It's gone." And then you notice. There's no buzzing sound, no shimmery air.

No portal.

He sings quietly.

At last I'm where you want me

Don't you know, that's where I want to be?

I've been round for the last time

Oh, girl, what can I do?

Oh the time the web was woven,

How I fell in love, fell in love with you...

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @deltafalax @tacozebra051

[mosaickiwi]

Soft - Light

Your attempt to cook on a date night goes from bad to worse when the lights go out. Redacted always has you covered, though. 900ish words, GN reader as per usual c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~

"I definitely did something wrong," you muttered and wrinkled your nose at your creation.

"Hmm, maybe they just look like that?" Ren unhelpfully commented from behind you, hovering just as close as always. You didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning. 

"You know what they look like." Smoke began rising from the pan, accompanied by a rather burnt smell as you desperately tried to wriggle the spatula under the lumpy, oversized pancake. All you managed to do was tear its dark brown edges to a mess and reveal the insides—somehow still raw with bits of unmixed batter. You sighed and switched off the burner, turning around to dump the hot pan in the sink and blast it under the faucet. Rather half-heartedly, you scrubbed at the surface. “Breakfast for dinner shouldn't be this hard.”

They watched you with amusement as the water immediately sizzled and steamed from the pan. Curiously, he picked up the box of pancake mix at the stove, turning it in his hands. "You know I'd love t'help, Angel, but…" he trailed off and you could easily fill in the blank.

"You'd do a lot worse, yeah." You quickly gave up on saving the cookware and moved to your boyfriend's side, peering at the box in his hand. Your eyes narrowed on a few words in the first step of instructions. Prepare a nonstick skillet or griddle. One glance back at the shiny metal mistake soaking in the sink told you right away: it was doomed from the start. "You know what? I don’t care. Let’s just order—"

A sudden crack of thunder drowned out your voice and you jumped. The evening sky was perfectly clear when Ren arrived, but the weather in Corland Bay loved to change on a dime. You could hear rain pelt harshly against the windows in the living room as another thunderous roar boomed, much louder than the first. Only a second passed before the lights flickered and died to shroud the apartment in darkness.

“Are you kidding me!?” came Violet’s muffled scream of frustration through the walls. She must’ve been in the middle of a very important gaming session.

You clung to the dark-haired hacker's arm as your eyes took their time adjusting in the dark. He didn't seem all that phased though, casually wrapping an arm around you while he pulled out his phone. The kitchen was tinted in a faint glow from the screen. You expected him to turn on the flashlight like any normal human would, but he began scrolling through a delivery app.

"Ren," you started, utterly confused by his actions. "Who do you think is going to deliver in a storm when their power is out?"

"The whole bay isn't out. Look," he said and carefully guided you into the living room with a nod towards the windows.

He took a seat while you drew back the curtain to peek. Sure enough, most of Corland was lit up like usual. In fact, it only seemed like your apartment building and a few adjacent ones were completely dark. Another point in the long list against your landlord for being cheap.

The lights from outside weren't much, but you could see a lot better once the curtain was open completely. You walked back over to the couch and Ren immediately held his arms open for you, still searching his phone. 

His hair tickled against your cheek as he pulled you into his lap and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Y'liked the place we ordered from last weekend, right? Wanna try 'em again?” 

"Yeah," you answered and settled against them. He turned his cheek to place a quick kiss on your neck before reading the options aloud. His voice was a soft whisper, blended with the now gentle patter of rain against glass. Their hand rubbed careful circles on your back to soothe you. It was more than enough to put you at ease in his embrace, the disaster in the sink long forgotten.

Quiet minutes passed as he spoke and you responded silently in turn. The barely there nods or shakes of your head you made were all you could muster as exhaustion caught up. He finished up the order and soon you were pressing yourself further against the warmth of their body.

He made no comment when you maneuvered in his lap, merely tilting his chin up to welcome the kiss you needed. The phone slipped from his hand not a moment later. You felt the shape of his smile against your lips and giggled softly at his reaction. It was sweet to know how much he always wanted you. Cool fingers came to rest at your thigh as you kissed him once more, then pulled back.

"Tired?" he asked and looked up at you with a smile, leaning into your hand that traced along the shell of his ear. The faint light filtering through the window caught on his piercings when you pushed his bangs back.

"Mhmm," you said with a lazy nod. "Still gonna kiss you 'til the food's here, though."

"Lucky me." He tugged you forward, gentle as could be, and softly kissed the corner of your mouth as he mumbled, "Yippee."

The surprised laugh you let out was only muffled by the fevered press of their lips.

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 9 Marionette

A small-scale usually wooden figure (as of a person) with jointed limbs that is moved from above by manipulation of the attached strings or wires.

(Warnings for mentioning of death. The song used is Circus Monster (English Cover) by Jubyphonic

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=aQgXq42nD8I&pp=ygUcY2lyY3VzIG1vbnN0ZXIgZW5nbGlzaCBjb3Zlcg%3D%3D 

Inspired by @whisperinghallwaysofmirrors Marionette Enmu story and the original Marionette Enmu art by @venompeach so please check them out.)

Edit: Here's a link to their story please support them and their writing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54554677

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

Perhaps you should've known better than to go urban exploring on Halloween. 

But you were bored. 

You were too old for trick or treating. Handing out candy got tiring way too fast because it just meant you kept having to get up in the middle of doing whatever you were going multiple times your feet hurt by the end of the night. No good horror movies were playing tonight. And the costume party you originally planned on going to was cancelled because your friend's dog got really sick from eating the candy he left out for the trick or treaters. 

The thought of jokingly messing around with a ouija board crossed your mind, but you've seen enough horror movies to know THAT was an absolutely stupid idea! So you were left to endlessly scroll through your phone trying to find something to entertain yourself with until you came across an urban explorer blogging himself and his partner walking through an abandoned house on the side of the road and ended up finding some antiques in good condition worth a fortune. 

And that's when it hit you.

YOU COULD DO THAT!!

It'd be just like going to one of those cheesy haunted house attractions but without the cheap tricks and people in costumes. Plus you might find some cool old stuff to keep and if nothing else, it'll satisfy your bored mind if you go. Surely the only dangers were possible mold growing on the old walls or wild animals making their home in the abandoned walls. And what luck an old theater was within walking distance of your home. Not your first choice for your first time urban exploring but let's be honest.

An abandoned theater on Halloween sounded way more exciting than sitting on your porch just handing out candy to hyper little kids. 

So you gathered up the proper equipment you'd need for this adventure. Flashlight, spare batteries, phone, a mask in case of mold, and of course a backpack to carry everything in. You made your way out into the setting sun's light. Naturally there was already people out here walking around mostly parents walking their little kids around trick or treating or teenagers out seeking  out candy or going to play tricks...You hoped your house didn't get egged while you out.

The moon rose higher and higher in the sky as the sun fully set and allowed the night to fully make the darkness creep in. As you walked the streets it slowly became less crowded and the houses covered in decorations became less and less the farther you walked. Your footsteps echoed from every step you took against the pavement, and the only lights being the street lamps and your phone's screen as you followed directions via Google to the location of the old theater. It was a bit farther from you than expected, about an hour and ten minutes of walking, but it was still the closest one to you and you craved that Halloween scare. 

The lamps shown down upon you as you continued to walk through the darkened streets and walked past businesses long closed for the day near the edge of town. An eerie flickering light casted over you as the cold wind blew send a shiver down your spine with only your shadow as company. It sure felt like a creepy Halloween night. The footsteps echoing throughout the empty streets slowly came to a slow stop alongside a tall wire fence with a very large yellow 'no trespassing' sign hung to it. 

You looked at the tall fence and turned your attention to the massive dark building behind the iron gates. The building was old and worn as you expected. After all it had been abandoned since the nineteen twenties. The sight of the building long since abandoned and worn down by time almost seemed to mock the young woman in front of it, daring you to enter at your own risk. The implication making you swallow a lump in your throat.

You've only heard rumors about what happened here but rumor was that an actor died on stage while doing a hypnosis act, however he had been a scam artist but no one could prove it. So one of his victims, a stage hand and fellow actor, decided to drop a rather heavy sand bag on his head during another one of his acts. The impact killed him instantly. In order to mock him further, a puppet was made to look exactly like the old scam artist and the killer did acts with it. After only two shows the Director put a stop to the gruesome shows and ordered the man to get rid of the puppet. However the next day when they returned to the theater-

The man was found dead with his marionette's hands around his throat- 

CRASH-!!

You let out a small shriek and whirled around towards the sounds of crashing metal. A crash can fell over from the entrance of an alley as a stray cat meowed loudly before running away into the darkness. A sigh of relief escaped your throat. Well you were looking for a good Halloween scare. Guess you got one. Shaking your head, you looked back to the large building and sucked in a breath.

Get a hold of yourself. It was only rumors and even if someone died here there was no such things as ghosts or haunted puppets. This place was probably just abandoned because radios and TV was more popular than going to see someone act during those times. With a deep breath of encouragement, you shook yourself and quickly looked up and down the empty streets before putting your phone away and grabbing onto the chain link fence. It was easy to get up and then jump down on the other side. The building was even more creepy in person as you looked up at it. Hearing it creeping lightly against the wind as you walked up to the front noticing the boarded up doors and windows that you couldn't get through. Luckily you found a hole in the side of the building probably collapsed in by old age from the building and just big enough for you to squeeze through.

You had to suck in your guts and take your backpack off for a moment but you managed to get inside on top of what felt like a scruffy rub, and switch on your flashlight. The light flashed making you blink a little bit from the sudden light filling the space but you were able to get a good look at the surroundings. Like you suspected under your feet was a shaggy dark grey-green carpet with holes and threads sticking out of the floor at all corners. At the sides of you were old walls and feeling faded beige wall paper tearing a lot of places and showing the chipping wood underneath. 

The light caught dust floating about in the air mentally thanking yourself for remembering the mask to avoid breathing it in, and a few cobwebs here and there where the old ceiling connected to the walls. The only sources of light was your strong flashlight and the hole in the wall you shifted through with minimal moonlight seeping in. With a deep breath, you took a step forward and began walking down the dark hall. The floor boards creaked under your weight and the carpet gave an uncomfortable crunchy sensation from the years of not being taken cared of. The air stale and cold from the fall weather outside. Sure was spooky in here but you were comforted by the fact that you knew there was no such thing as ghosts. 

As you walked, the light caught onto the few papers as you passed noticing that they were in fact old posters advertising the old acts that they must've used to do here. A puppeteer, dances, a play or two, and one that fell into the floor advertising a hypnosis act. Huh. The legend mentioned a hypnotist. A quick glance to it had the words 'Enmu Tamio the Amazing Hypnotist. Cures of the mind for the mind. Depression and fear gone'. You couldn't make out anything else because the pictures were long since too blurry and faded. Perhaps a part of the rumors was true.

You traveled farther up the hall until it split into two other long halls going left or right. The light shines both ways and neither looked different from each other so you went left. The floorboards still creaking under your weight. Have to admit, so far it's not really that scary. More dusty than anything else. Continuing to walk, the hallway turned right towards a longer hall than normal and you found a rather peculiar sight of doors on either side. Was this the bathroom area? A sign catching onto an old sign on the wall told you all you needed to know.

"Employees Only." Your head shines back up the hallway of doors. "This must've been the dressing rooms for the actors." You mumbled to yourself and began to walk forward.

Out of curiousity you reached out to try the first door, it opened- AND SOMETHING RUSHED OUT FROM THE DARKEST! You gasped and fumbled back as it fell to the floor with a clatter! Revealing itself to be-!...A broom..and a bucket rolling out with it. You blinked shining your light into the broom closet, before groaning, and kicking aside the cleaning supplies to walk your way up towards the other doors.

Some had names still hung up on the doors. 'Daki Shabana the Great Ballerina'. Recruitment Office.' 'Iguru Obanai the Snake Charmer.' Some didn't. But most were locked tight when you tried to get in, however you did find a few open. An old changing room with what looked like old burlesque outfits hung up on a rack. The showgirls changing room no doubt. A quick look around lead you to find a few cool trinkets like an antique watch and an old music box still in good condition shaped like a little merry-go-round. You threw them all in your bag before continuing to move on. Continuing onwards, you found one name that you thought was intriguing.

"Enmu Tamio."

That name was on the poster from before. The Hypnotist. The light moved from the sign on the door towards the knob, and was shocked to find the door cracked open already. Probably came loose when the locks rusted away or someone didn't lock it up when the place was abandoned. Despite the shiver that ran down your spine, your hand slowly reached out and pushed it. 

CRRRFREEEAAAKKK-

The loud creek echoed throughout the hallway and your light shines inside. The room...was unsurprisingly normal. A large vanity was in the far left side with a mirror that reflected your flashlight. A wardrobe against the other wall left wide open and empty. A suit case or two lining the floors, and a few old posters lined up the wall. Advertising the guy's hypnosis acts and strangely one or two trains. You looked around at the room finding nothing of value except for one of the posters etched with the art of a man.

Ah. Was that Mr. Hypnotist?

He looked like a man no taller than yourself, with short black hair falling to just above his shoulders. He posed smiling holding up one of those old timey pocket watches on a chain. Yeah. You expected that much. Deciding to leave the dressing room, you slowly made your way down the hallway and towards wherever it lead to. A couple more dressing rooms caught your eye but nothing too strange until you got to the very last one. 

"Petro Peterson the World's Greatest Puppeteer."

Ah. So there was a puppeteer amongst the performers here. So perhaps the part of the puppeteer killing the Hypnotist was true? You would've tried to open the door but there was no knobs and old chipped planks boarded up most of the door. Well that was certainly ominous. But you still moved on, walking away from the rooms and turning a corner where it was especially dark. Your flashlight could barely light up more than three yards in front of you as you continued to walk. The carpeted floor was gone now replaced by just creaky wood. You couldn't see anything no matter how much you squinted in the dark. Barely being able to see-

Until something brushed up against your face-

"AH?!"

You fumbled for the light nearly dropping the flashlight before flashing it up towards the thing still dangling from the dark above your head. The light caught onto it, swaying back and forth from you swatting it. You panted as it harmlessly hung there... before you blinked.

"A rope?"

A brownish-grey rope dangled from the dark rafters above. Your light couldn't the top but you saw other ropes dangling from the ceiling too. A quick sweep of the floor had you noticing a torn open sandbag spilling it's contents all over the floor, and to your far right was a massive of felt also dangling from the ceiling. A curtain?

"I must've wondered backstage," you mumbled to yourself. 

Great. But no worries. If that was the curtains then the stage was right in front of you and you could exit through the audience entryway. Sounded like a good plan. This place was starting to get tiring fast.  Making your way towards the big velvety curtains, you moved your hands to push away the ropes from your body and walk towards the curtains. The curtains were filled with moth holes and dust floated into the air like a cloud of smoke when you pushed Against it. Good thing you had the mask. You continued along the curtains until you managed to find a gape in the curtains and began your way through. Pushing past curtains after curtain until you felt a break through-

You helped with a stumble as you fell through the maze of curtains and finally stumbled onto stage. Taking a minute to compose yourself, you sighed and brushed the dust off  your body. Packing yourself off before shining your flashlight around and noticing the stage and the area between the stage and the rows of seats for the audience. You didn't know what that space was called but it was where musicians would play as the shows were played out on stage. By the looks of it, they abandoned the instruments too. Most of which looked damaged beyond repair. Ok. Now you could exit through the audience entrance up there. Where was the steps off stage? Your steps echoed throughout the entire room as you carefully swept your light across the floor searching and searching-

Until you bumped into something that rattled.

Your flashlight pointed up to the thing before you.

A face shined within the lights glow-

"AAAHH!!"

Your shriek despite being muffled by the mask, echoed throughout the entire stage. A flashlight clattered to the ground a d rolled a few feet away. You stumbled back falling onto your bottom and scooting away quickly looking up in horror at the person in front of you.

And silence ensued.

Your terrified form panted staring up at the shadowed figure as it continued to gently sway...Then you blinked as it continued to do nothing. Wait a minute. Crawling over to grab the flashlight, you shined it up at the massive figure, only to be astonished by what you saw.

A puppet?

No...wait..Not a puppet. Well it was. But it was a specific TYPE of puppet.

A marionette?!

A life sized marionette. 

You continued to stare at it before slowly getting back up to look at it closer. The face was still, made of wood but the paint hadn't faded by some miracle. It's eyes closed and you could see the lines by the mouth were it moved. The hair was a bit scruffy but not in bad shape, and the outfit it wore was worn out with one of two tears, and faded from a white-beige almost leotard like costume to a full grey from age and dust. You hesitated but reached out a hand to knock on it's face... before standing back to shine the lights towards the top. 

Barely Visible strings held it off the ground as it continued to sway. ..Did they seriously leave a man sized marionette hanging here when they abandoned this place? And why did they make it so big?! It was creepy! And yet- ...You noticed something about it. One of the glass blue eyes WAS open. Seemingly staring at you in the light. And it was starting to come out of place.

Reaching out, you gently reached out to the eye and pushed it back into place with a small pop, before reaching up to rub down his hair so it wasn't sticking up, and lastly straighten up his clothes. Might not make a difference since you'll just leave it here, but at least it looked better. 

"There.  Pretty as a flower. Now where's those steps?"

Your light turned away from the puppet to start combing the stage Again. You only might have taken five steps before a giant noise caused you to jump!

CLICK!

And then a massive blast of light flashed on behind you. The sudden light in the darkness had you whirling around in shock, holding up a hand to block out some of the light blinding you. Eyes blinked soon enough as they were able to fill the darkness and you froze as you realized that it was the stage lights that were on shining down and lighting up the entire stage. What the-

A loud blast of music sounded out behind you that sounded like..Sax and violin? You whirled around but was further stumped to find no one else seated in the musicians places behind you. What the- 

"What the heck is going on?!"

"Time is dead and gone.~ Show must go on.~ It's time for our our act.~ They all scream at me.~ They cannot see this curtain hides me.~ An amazing gift.~ So quick and swift.~ You are amazing.~"

A melodist voice wafted over from behind you that sent chills down your spine and goosebumps on your skin. Fear infected your veins like a virus as you stood frozen amongst the noises...and then your head slowly turned around.

"By myself I can't.~ They start to chant.~ Why are you not here?~ Grinning at me.~ I lay at my knees.~ They want to hear me.~ Why can they not see?~"

Rapid clicking sounds accompanied wood. Twirling, twirling. Round and round on one leg. Like a ballerina. Audience of not enjoying the rapid beating of it's own musical heart center stage. Breathing life to the void present.

"I want to see you.~ I have to see you.~ I need to see you.~ What happened to you?~ We go up on stage.~ They jump to enrage.~ Why are you not here?~Why is he so near?~ He wants me to sing.~ I just cannot bring. I say he's not you.~ What else can I do?~"

The marionette..Was MOVING!! Twirling around in a pirouette like a ballerina, mouth open a d singing.

HOW?! 

Your mouth was wide and eyes were wide open in shock before you shook your head and looked around. This had to be a prank! Someone here was messing with you! You accidentally hit an on switch somewhere. Someone was trying to scare you out!

SOMETHING!! But no matter where you shined your light or looked you couldn't see anyone or any machine you might've activated to move stuff around. You looked back to the moving puppet- And froze dead in your tracks as it had stopped twirling around to strike a pose. Glass blue eyes stared at you and a smile on the wooden face. A lump formed in your throat as it moved on its own accord upon tiptoes doing that tip toe walk ballerinas were know for.

"Singing it's silent of misery.~  A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~ 

It was only then with sheer horror that you realized that it was tip toe dancing over to you. Unfortunately you realized that too late.

"Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~"

It was right in front of you now. Looming over you so close that if you moved, your face would hit it's wooden head. Glass eyes blinked at you ..and with a thud sound the flashlight and back pack fell out of your hands. It seemed to find amusement in this as it smiled wider, and all of a sudden the tight feeling of a hand grabbing yours and an arm around your waist was on you.

"I lay all alone. I should've known you would've left me.~ He smiles at me.~ I cannot see why he's in your place.~ They can't tell me why you said goodbye right before our act.~ Those two lions were always fun.~ Why did they leave too?~"

You were suddenly forced into some waltz. Instinctively your other hand grabbed onto him as your terrified form was made to step in time with this thing's tune.

"Roaring at me.~ I lay on my knees. What is happening?~ I can hear you sing.~ They will not obey.~ They've been lead astray.~  Will I still see you?~ I have to see you.~ I panic and flee.~ They both pounce on me.~ I fell to ground.~ I fell to the ground.~"

You tried to pull away as this thing made you dance around with it like some puppet. Forget trying to figure out what was going on! You had to get out of this. However when you looked back up...

You paused once again.

"I look up to see you're not here with me.~  Am I all alone?~ Where could you have gone?~ Singing it's silent of misery.~ A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~ Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~"

Something like water was seeping out of the glass eyes and falling down the thing's cheeks and dripping off in time with the steps you both took. Was this thing..crying? Could this thing even be capable of crying.

The song continued on its own melody and you only watched in awe as it moved out of its own accord.

"Singing it's silent of misery.~ A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~ Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~"

Things slowly came to a stop. And there you both stood you stared at the thing before with one last big smile it's eyes closed and it just-

Fell limp.

It's arms flopped down only to be suspended by thin air by the strings. It's eyes closed. Head hung. 

CLICK!!

With a massive sound the lights once again turned off leaving you in pure darkness except for the distant sounds of your flashlight on the floor. Music gone. Silent darkness settled. Like it never even happened.

...

Footsteps slowly stumbled about towards the darkness and a second later a flashlight was picked up and the backpack was swung over your shoulders. More footsteps approached the marionette on the stage once again. Shining the light upon the face that was still limp. However the traces of tears still remained... Eventually you tapped it with your flashlight.

"Hey...A-Are you still awake?"

No response. You walked around to face it's front.

"Are you that Enmu Hypnotist guy from the posters?"

The thing moved- You flinched as the blue eyes once more snapped open and turned towards you.  Glass eyes shining in the light.

"...How did you die?"

It didn't answer. Instead in blinked before it's head turned to the far left. Curious your light shined where it was looking at. You saw nothing but the floor until it shines up on something you didn't notice before. A spiderweb like crack in the otherwise normal floorboards and the faint color of rust...Blood long since cleaned up but stained forever into the wood.

"Oh my god. ...How long have you been here?"

"A long time."

You shined your light back up to the puppet that turned it's head to you. "I thought you were talking. .. Can't you leave?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

To answer, the thing gave a few tugs of an arm and you noticed. The strings. Were they the things thing his ghost here or something? You continued to stare at him before putting the flashlight between your teeth and grabbing his arm. You completely put your weight into it and with its old age snapped easily.

Immediately you let go as the wooden appendage moved and flexed without the string to move it. Those eyes blinked before turning to you before you grabbed onto his other arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Either something really good or really crazy. Let's find out which."

[screams-in-writing]

This starts out reading as a more horror-esque story, before Mr. Puzzles is found to just be bad at personal space and that phasing into one’s home is frowned upon (I think this is even longer than the other one I posted. I am having fun).

Your roommates were at their respective family homes, which left you all alone during a raging thunderstorm.  A storm that lit the house with flashes of intermittent lightning, rain coming down like a deluge, as if threatening to flood the very streets around the home.

In addition, the power had gone out not ten minutes ago, leaving you in the dark to hold onto a flashlight one of your roommates had stored in a kitchen drawer. It wasn’t the brightest shine, either, the path of the beam flickering itself, as if the battery were close to dying out. The subsequent dark of the house following the power outage, despite the light said flashlight produced, made you become acutely away of the ambient noises around you.

The basement door was ignored; you’d seen enough horror movies and games to avoid going down there like the plague. Even if you were all alone in the house, you were not going to let your mind get away from you by going to check out the electrical panel.

There was a slight thumping sound from the dining room, like someone had tripped. 

Nope.

You went in the opposite direction of the noise, and began to carefully go up the stairs, an unnerving feeling of being watched settling in.  The flashlight died not even three steps up. Propelled by spike of alarm that there could be someone behind you now that it was dark, you blindly raced up the stairs. Panic shot through you when you could have sworn you heard steps swiftly following up after you.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

The hallway wasn’t completely dark, thanks to a window from another room nearby that was open, allowing a vague outline to your closed bedroom door. 

Telling yourself you’d checked all the doors and windows before your roommates had left for the weekend, you slam your bedroom door open. Without missing a beat, you stumble to your bed and hid under the covers of the bed like you could keep yourself hidden from whatever you thought could have followed you upstairs. 

Creaking noises. 

Someone was walking?

No, that was just the siding of the house being hit with the sheets rain.

A shuffling noise.

Just the rain pelting the windows.

A thump sounded in the brief silence.

That…had came from underneath your bed.

You peer out from beneath the blanket to warily peer over the side of the bed. You were met with a sheepish expression with a multi-colored smile on a tv screen staring up at you.

“Hello, my-“

In a panic, because how could there be a television on under your bed, you abruptly tossed the blanket over the tv screen. In a burst of frenzied terror, you dropped down onto the tv on your knees with a thump, making a garbling noise emit from beneath you. Further terror seized you when a pair of arms reached out from beneath the bed to upend you. Scrambling to get to your feet, you are halted by a hand seizing one of your arms. With a scream of fear you’re pulled backward into a solid chest, arms around your waist as someone held you. 

A voice cut through the cacophony of rain and thunder, saying your name.

Confused, you still for just a moment, noticing the glow in the room that came from behind you. It illuminated a pair of legs on either side of you, which boxed in your upright if curled up form.  A pair of familiar legs in gray pants with puzzle patterns on it, ending with black and white dress shoes. Confusion rose as you glanced down and found arms covered in a white dress shirt, gloved hands twitching when your hands settled over them.

“Mr. Puzzles?”

“The one and only!” Said with gusto, if in an out of breath way.

Right.

You’d essentially landed your knees into his face, hard.

Wait.

“Why are you in my house?” You felt Mr. Puzzles’ hands fidget under yours. 

“Would you believe it is because I have nowhere else to go, when I am not at work with you or our…co-workers?” It sounded like Mr. Puzzles still wasn’t married to the idea that he needed to work with a team to get a show up and running.  Possibly because it wasn’t the kind of show he was used to, in that it was  podcast being taped or just audio, depending on the current money situation.

“And this brings you into my house, how?”

“…I remember where it was because it was the first place I appeared? And I wasn’t sure if a hotel would…let me in? Or if I let myself in, someone might be…very, very confused.” Mr. Puzzles offered, almost sheepishly. “And so…i may be able to do an eensy-weeny little thing-”

“Which is?” You cut in, before the man could go off on a tangent.

“…I used the old box tv still plugged into the basement and replaced it with myself before the power went out?”

So there was something to fear in the basement, though Mr. Puzzles was less terrifying than an actual burglar that might cause you harm. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t weird and rather intruding for this tv-headed man to just let himself into your and your roommates’ house.

“I take it that isn’t…done as much here, as where I’m from?” Mr. Puzzles asked into the silence, amid the storm raging on.

“No, it’s not.”

“I see.” 

An awkward silence reigned briefly.

“I could go to the basement and wait for the power to turn on, if my presence is truly troubling.” That sounded like it had come through gritted teeth; impressive, for someone with a screen for a face. Like he wanted to be in the company of someone but also acknowledging, reluctantly, that being in the home of an acquaintance-almost-friend without notice or approval wasn’t the best thing to happen.

“Why did you show up to begin with. Apart from not having a place to go?” You finally clue into leaning against the man and swiftly pull away, which Mr. Puzzles quickly allowed for as he rested against a nearby wall.

“Oh, right.” Gloved fingers fidget; Mr. Puzzles suddenly looked embarrassed, screen shifting as a frown appeared, droplets of sweat shown on one upper area of the screen. “I asked for everyone’s phone numbers, to stay in touch, you see. I must admit, I was so caught up in the idea of being involved in a show again-“ In a quieter, deeper grumbling tone, “Yet not even a host of it.” 

You stare at the man, who quickly ‘cleared’ his throat and continued on.

“Not that I’m not grateful for another chance.”Mr. Puzzles’ voice became clear and upbeat once more. “Why, the very thought held me in a chokehold of inspiration and it wasn’t until the end of the work day that I realized I’d forgotten to ask for your number.”

It was such an absurd thing that you had to laugh, which made Mr. Puzzles’ face shift to one as well as a laugh track mixed with his own.

“You do know you could have waited until tomorrow.” You said. “The storm is supposed to be gone by the morning.”

“You dont know why?” Mr. Puzzles reached out to grasp one of your hands.

Personal space, much?

“I wanted to thank my dear rescuer, who not only didn’t dump my prone head into a dumpster-“ Mr. Puzzles shuddered in apparent revulsion over the very idea. “But you also found me a place I could use a rather free rein of my creative expression at while getting back on my feet!”

“Free rein, meaning putting two of my arguing co-workers into your television head land or whatever while people thought they’d gone missing?” You ask dubiously as you take your hand back, though Mr. Puzzles had let go already to wave the hand dismissively.

“Schematics. One must make sacrifices for a good television show.”

“You sent one of them to therapy.” You deadpanned.

“To be fair, that fellow appeared to already be in need of such survives.” Mr. Puzzles shrugged in apparent indifference.

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m offended.” The man placed a hand over his chest, Mr. Puzzles’ screen face switching to a picture of a sat wet cat. “No one in this world could possibly handle the amount of therapy I would require, so I’m afraid coping will just have to be enough.”

“At least you’re honest about it.”

“I do try my best.” Cheerful and insincere. This man had a screw loose somewhere in that tv head of his.

A bright flash of lightning followed by a deafening rumble that shook the house.

You practically flung yourself at the nearest object for comfort, which happened to be Mr. Puzzles, who seemed confused by the sudden death-cling you held him in versus the conversation suddenly being interrupted.

“Not a fan of storms?” Mr. Puzzles asked eventually.

“What do you think?”

“…would you like me to play something for you?” Mr. Puzzles questioned in a softer tone than before.

“Like what?” You whispered.

“Well, that depends.” Mr. Puzzles tilted his head. “Would you want to watch or listen?”

“Listen.” You decided after a brief moment of thought.

“Any requests?”

Genuine. Curious.

“Nah, surprise me.”

A mistake, that.

If you hadn’t been in need of holding something alive and breathing for reassurance (how did Mr. Puzzles manage that, with his head being what it was) you might have tried to uselessly to smother the man with a pillow.

The asshole was playing a recording of the fitness gram pacer test, apparently quite happy to return the hug, as touch-starved and friendless as Mr. Puzzles made himself appear. But Mr. Puzzles redeemed himself some time later when he eventually switched over to a channel playing orchestral music that was loud enough that it dulled the noise of the storm, but not loud enough that you missed sound of something else. 

With your head leaning against his chest, you heard the thumping of a heart. This man’s body was a confusing mess; a tv for a head, yet his body gave in the way a human’s did, but at times, you wondered if he was robotic.  And if that was the case, were you hearing an actual heartbeat, or just the sound of one to make this impromptu holding one another for comfort in the dark less unnerving?

A thought to pursue another day.

[starmatzz]

Observation duty

Seonghwa, working alone as a paranormal investigator, monitors an abandoned cabin. Everything is normal, when suddenly strange occurrences begin; the cameras cut out, and the air turns icy. As he sits in the van, he feels a chilling breath on his neck, realizing something is watching him from the cabin—or maybe closer.

author's note: um so this short ramble was inspired by the game "i am on observation duty" which i LOVE..and i actually got this idea while watching markiplier's let's play this morning lol...should i continue this? 👀 first i wanted to do it on matz but i wanted to experiment with dpr ian x seonghwa 😛

Seonghwa sat in the cramped van which he parked few minutes ago in the middle of the forest. His bag lied on the floor and he sank into the worn chair behind the control panel, fingers immediately flying across the keyboard to boot up the monitoring system.

Rows of tiny screens blinked to life one by one, each displaying a different angle of the abandoned cottage bathed in dim, gray light. The building loomed in the middle of the woods, its rotting beams and shattered windows giving it an almost sentient, hostile presence.

Seonghwa adjusted his headset, muttering to himself as he clicked through each feed. “Front hall, clear. Kitchen, clear. Basement… still creepy as hell.” He leaned back, his eyes narrowing at the flickering camera in the attic. “Of course, the attic’s acting up.”

The faint hum of static filled the van as Seonghwa ran a diagnostics check, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard. He glanced at the time—midnight, the witching hour. A part of him loved this job, the thrill of chasing the unknown. The other part wished he were in bed, far away from creaky floorboards and shadows that moved when they shouldn’t.

He reached for his thermos, taking a long sip of lukewarm coffee, and settled in for a long night of watching and waiting. 

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

Two hours had dragged by, and Seonghwa was still glued to the screens, his chin resting on his palm. He clicked lazily through the camera feeds, the dim green glow of night vision casting eerie shadows on his face.

The occasional flicker of a light or subtle shift of an object barely registered anymore. A chair sliding an inch across the attic floor? A pile of books tumbling off a shelf in the living room? Nothing out of the ordinary for a place like this.

He stifled a yawn, squinting at the basement feed as the camera stuttered. Static briefly filled the screen before the image returned—a cluster of broken furniture and damp concrete walls. “Classic,” he muttered under his breath, drumming his fingers on the desk.

The clock on the monitor blinked 2:07 a.m. Seonghwa rubbed his eyes and glanced at his thermos, debating whether another cup of coffee was worth it. He sighed, clicking back to the kitchen feed.

Then, something caught his eye.

A faint movement near the edge of the frame. The camera hadn’t glitched this time—this was deliberate. A shadow, faint but distinct, moved across the kitchen floor, stopping just shy of the doorway.

Seonghwa froze, his hand hovering over the mouse. The shadow didn’t belong to anything visible. No trees swaying, no curtains blowing. It was just… there.

He leaned closer to the monitor, his pulse quickening. “Okay,” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. “Finally, something interesting.”

Seonghwa grabbed the spirit communication device from the shelf—a sleek, compact machine with glowing dials and faint static buzzing from the speaker. He clipped it to his belt, grabbed his flashlight, and shrugged on his jacket. The chilly night air hit him the moment he stepped out of the van, but he barely noticed, his focus locked on the looming silhouette of the cabin.

The building seemed to breathe in the darkness, its warped wooden frame groaning under an unseen weight. Seonghwa’s boots crunched against the gravel as he approached, his flashlight beam slicing through the mist that clung to the ground.

He paused at the door, his hand hovering over the rusted knob. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, steadying himself. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The door creaked open with an almost theatrical protest, revealing the dim, empty interior. Seonghwa stepped inside, the stale scent of decay and damp wood washing over him. The cabin felt colder than the air outside, an unnatural chill that seeped into his bones.

He turned on the spirit box, the soft hiss of static breaking the oppressive silence. “If there’s someone here,” Seonghwa called out, his voice firm but calm, “let me know. Move something. Speak to me.”

The flashlight beam danced across the dust-covered floor as Seonghwa made his way through the front hall. His footsteps echoed faintly, blending with the hum of the machine. Nothing responded at first—just the low crackle of the spirit box.

He turned toward the kitchen, where the shadow had appeared on the camera. The moment he crossed the threshold, the flashlight flickered.

Seonghwa froze, his grip tightening. “Hello?” he said again, scanning the room. The spirit box hissed, then sputtered—brief bursts of sound crackling through the static, like words trying to form.

The static from the spirit box fizzled out, replaced by an oppressive silence that pressed down on Seonghwa like a weight. His flashlight steadied, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls, but nothing moved.

His breaths were shallow, the adrenaline coursing through him making his hands tremble. He’d come here looking for answers, for proof, but now… now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to find anything.

“Alright,” he muttered under his breath, backing toward the door. His voice sounded too loud in the stillness. “Guess you’re shy tonight.”

He turned off the spirit box and made his way out of the cabin, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots. The cold night air hit him as soon as he stepped outside, but it did little to calm the racing in his chest.

The van was in sight, a beacon of safety in the dark, but as he approached, something felt… off. The door was ajar, swaying faintly in the breeze.

Seonghwa stopped in his tracks, his flashlight beam landing on the slightly open door. He frowned, his mind racing. He was sure he’d closed it—he always did. Had he been careless, or had someone else… something else…?

“Great,” he muttered, forcing a nervous laugh. “Maybe a raccoon wanted my coffee.”

But the humor didn’t ease the knot in his stomach. He approached cautiously, every step feeling heavier than the last. He reached out, gripping the edge of the van’s door, and peered inside.

Everything was as he’d left it—almost. The control panel hummed softly, screens still displaying the empty cabin. But the thermos he’d left on the desk had been knocked over, rolling onto the floor.

Seonghwa’s heart skipped. “I definitely didn’t leave it like that,” he whispered.

The van felt colder now, the air inside heavy and still, as though something unseen lingered. He swallowed hard, glancing back toward the cabin, then at the van.

For the first time that night, Seonghwa felt truly unsure of where he was safer—outside or in.

Seonghwa locked the van door with shaking hands, his breath fogging in the cold air. The small space felt claustrophobic, but at least it was safe—or so he hoped. He sank back into the chair, the familiar hum of the monitors grounding him as he clicked through the camera feeds again.

At first, everything seemed normal. The front hall was still, the kitchen empty, the basement a motionless void of shadows. But then, like a switch had been flipped, the cabin erupted into chaos.

On the kitchen feed, a chair slammed into the wall, tipping a table onto its side. The attic camera showed dust swirling violently, as though stirred by an invisible hurricane. In the living room, bookshelves toppled, their contents scattering across the floor.

Seonghwa leaned forward, his pulse racing. “What the hell…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

One by one, the disturbances spread across the cabin. A lamp in the hallway shattered, its light winking out in a shower of sparks. In the basement, the camera jolted violently as something unseen yanked it from its mounting, the last image a blurred streak of gray.

Seonghwa’s hand hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to do, when suddenly, the screens flickered. The feeds blinked in and out, the images distorted with static. Then, all at once, they went black.

The van fell into an eerie silence, the hum of the equipment gone. The only light came from Seonghwa’s flashlight, which he hadn’t turned off earlier. Its faint beam illuminated the van’s cramped interior, casting long, twisting shadows.

For a moment, Seonghwa just sat there, frozen, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. His own breathing sounded too loud, too fast, in the stifling quiet.

Seonghwa jumped as the computer screens flickered back to life, casting the van in an eerie glow. The once-familiar interface was gone, replaced by a stark red warning flashing across every monitor:

TOO MANY ANOMALIES

TOO MANY ANOMALIES

The text repeated in rhythmic flashes, bathing the van in alternating light and shadow. Seonghwa’s throat tightened as he stared at the words, his mind racing. This wasn’t part of the system—it couldn’t be.

“What the hell is this…” he whispered, reaching for the keyboard, but before he could touch it, the screens went black again.

The silence returned, heavier this time, pressing down on him like a physical weight. His flashlight flickered once, then twice, before steadying again.

That’s when he felt it.

The air in the van grew icy, sharp enough to make him shiver despite his jacket. His breath came out in short, visible puffs, hanging in the still air. And then, just behind him, a sensation that made his blood run cold—a faint, deliberate exhale against the back of his neck.

Seonghwa froze, his heart hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. He wanted to turn, to shine his flashlight behind him, but his body wouldn’t obey. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and he could feel it—something close, too close, waiting for him to acknowledge it.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he gripped the flashlight tighter and whipped around, the beam of light cutting through the darkness.

Nothing.

The van was empty. No one there, no sign of movement. Yet the cold lingered, an oppressive chill that made his skin crawl.

Suddenly, the flashlight flickered again, and the spirit box clipped to his belt crackled to life. A distorted voice emerged, low and guttural:

“Scared?”

[paperultra]

THE FIVE NONSENSES

[ SOULMATE!AU ] Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well. read on ao3 | read on quotev

CHAPTER TWO: SOUND Word Count: 3,725 words Warnings: Mild swearing

Two months after you turn twelve, you watch your first horror movie.

“What a wimp,” Atsumu sneers, looking down from his nose at you. “Twelve and ya haven’t seen a horror movie yet? Me and ’Samu have already watched loads of ’em.”

“They’re not that scary,” Osamu adds through a full mouth. He’s already chipping away at the cheddar and caramel popcorn, fingers sticky and cheeks puffed full of salty and sweet. “You can see how fake they are.”

Fake, indeed. You glance at the TV. With all the lights shut off and all the blinds closed, the sun having set hours ago, the Miya’s old television set is your sole source of light. The DVD menu flickers before your eyes, a white, windowless room with a single mirror in the middle. Muffled static creeps out from the speakers and into your ears.

You shift discreetly in your seat, then look back at the twins. The cold light from the screen paints their faces ghostly pale.

You clench your fists and shrug impassively.

“Then let’s just watch it already.”

Osamu grunts in agreement. On his other side, Atsumu scowls.

“Don’t know why we gotta babysit ya on movie night,” Atsumu grumbles, reaching for the remote and selecting the Play Movie button. “Not like ya can’t be at home by yerself.”

Perhaps you should thank him for his rudeness this time, since it disrupts the tension enough for you to kick his ankle underneath the kotatsu.

Over the years, you’ve come to terms with the fact that Atsumu does not like you. This is compounded by the fact that Osamu does; of the few ways that you can tell the twins apart, nothing stands out more than their reactions upon seeing you, one turning towards you, the other turning away.

It’s funny how they balance each other out so completely. Osamu may be your soulmate, but Atsumu knows exactly how to get on your nerves.

“You’re the one who needs to be babysat!”

“Says the one who –”

“Can ya both shut up? It’s starting.”

You stop short at the dull prickle of annoyance from Osamu. From the way Atsumu screws up his face, halting his preparation to rear back and slam his feet into yours, he feels it too. The two of you glare poisonously at each other before settling in and letting the title sequence play without interruption.

I won’t get scared, you tell yourself as you reach out to grab a handful of popcorn. You toss a few into your mouth and the crunch of them between your teeth softens the uneasy sound of rolling waves coming from the TV. It’s all fake. Osamu said it’s not that bad, so it’ll be okay.

—

You should’ve known better.

Your room is completely silent as you look up into the void where the ceiling should be, muscles stiff and eyes wide and unblinking. The blankets are pulled up to your nose. It had taken a long time for the bed to warm up to your body, the only thing providing you with some semblance of safety, but it had taken only a matter of minutes before you found yourself agonizingly uncomfortable and sweaty.

You wish you’d kept the door open, but leaving isn’t an option. If you expose so much as a toe, the long-haired woman from the movie might crawl out of the darkness in the corner, stare down at you with a demonic eye and kill you on the spot.

(Telling yourself it’s not real doesn’t work. Because what if – what if –)

In the midst of trying to keep your breaths as quiet as possible, thoughts thundering around behind your eyes, the doorknob turns with a soft click.

“Oi.”

You jolt as if electrocuted.

The yellow beam of a flashlight shines upon your bed. It takes a moment to process everything, but once you do, relief floods your lungs.

“What?” you whisper back, peeking over the covers and squinting through the light.

Osamu and Atsumu crowd your doorway, shoulder to shoulder. Their bodies are nothing but shadowy figures until Osamu turns the flashlight to shine it at his hand, which is raised to show you a deck of cards.

“Wanna play Babanuki?” Osamu asks.

Your mouth parts.

Yes, is what you yell in your head. Anything is better than being all alone in the dark.

“Okay,” is what you say out loud, and the boys shuffle into your room.

You crawl out of bed. Atsumu closes the door behind him, and it is then that you notice the blanket underneath his arm. The three of you settle on the floor in a circle and he tosses the blanket over your heads.

Ah. It’s so the light doesn’t shine underneath the door and get you all in trouble for still being up.

“How’d ya know I was awake?” you ask while Osamu shuffles the cards on your right.

Osamu pauses to glance at his brother, and they seem to communicate something before he shrugs and answers you.

“Just knew.”

“Knew you’d be too scared to go to sleep,” Atsumu taunts quietly.

Your face heats up. “I wasn’t! ’S … ’s just too hot.”

“Liar,” both drone simultaneously.

You wither, lips protruding in a pout.

Osamu begins to pass the cards out. He’s steady and unhurried, three messy piles of cards building up as he goes around and around.

“… How come you guys are still up, then?” you finally mutter, drawing your knees up to your chest.

“Didn’t feel like sleepin’.” Atsumu picks up his pile and sorts through it. “’S too boring after watching a movie.”

Liar. The thought pops into your head unbidden, and you’re surprised at the certainty of it. The twins had jumped and screamed a few times during the movie, sure, but they get over things quick enough as a general rule and had seemed fine by the time the end credits rolled by. The image of them lying awake, terrified in their bunk beds like you had been in your own, is quite the odd thing.

But you do not voice that aloud.

(Babanuki doesn’t need three players.)

Osamu’s knee nudges your own. You look up to meet his eyes, and he holds his cards out towards you, face down.

“Choose one,” he says, and you do.

—

“[L/n]-chan, I have a question.”

“Mmhm,” you acknowledge distractedly, scribbling in the answers for today’s English homework. It’s less than ten minutes before lunch ends, and you had completely missed the other side of the worksheet. (Panicked, barely legible answers are better than none at all.)

Miki watches you carefully, fidgeting in her seat. “Is it true that you and Osamu-san aren’t really soulmates?”

You don’t even pause to think.

Even four years later, you’re faced with this same question from your peers. You fault Atsumu for this, who, despite having stopped outright denying the red string connecting you and Osamu, does nothing to clear the confusion except to say that he’ll always know his brother better than anybody else. Osamu doesn’t seem to give much of a crap, either. You’re the one left explaining things over and over again for some reason, and it gets tiring.

“No, we are.”

“Are ya sure? Even though Osamu-san has Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah,” you say. “We don’t really talk about it.”

More people are trailing into the classroom, including the twins, who had gone off earlier to intrude on Ojiro-senpai’s lunchtime. Despite your efforts to signal that it’s not the best time, Miki scoots closer to you. She’s silent for a few moments and then speaks once more, whispering now.

“Do … do you and Osamu-san actually like each other, [L/n]-chan?” she asks.

This time, you do stop.

It’s easy to feel sorry for Miki. Her name often comes up when your classmates are discussing soulmates – she had met hers during the first week of school, a popular senpai on the baseball team. Their timers went off at the same time in the cafeteria line during lunch.

According to the rumors, Matsuda-senpai told her off. He was graduating this year and didn’t have time for a soulmate two years below him, or something like that. Miki had cried in front of the whole cafeteria.

You do feel bad for her in that regard. Osamu and you may not be best friends, but at least you are on good terms. And despite Atsumu’s antagonizing behavior, he really is just a pest at worst.

“I like him,” you reply. “He’s easy to get along with.”

“But he’s already soulmates with Atsumu-san, and they’re twins. A-And ya don’t eat lunch together every day, even though ya always walk together n’ all,” she presses. “Are ya really okay with that?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly.

Miki doesn’t seem to like your answer. But it is the one you have, and you have to finish this stupid worksheet before the bell rings, so you turn away slightly and scratch at your paper. You hear her finally retreat back to her own desk.

When you glance up towards the front of the classroom, you catch Osamu shooting a rubber band at Atsumu. Atsumu yelps and scrambles to retaliate, and you hear a snap as his attack backfires and hits him in the face.

You cross your ankles underneath your desk and fill out the last blank on your worksheet. There aren’t any mistakes when it comes to soulmates. But each time someone comes up to you and asks that question, you wonder anyways.

—

On the walk home from school, Osamu and Atsumu talk about volleyball.

This is nothing new. There are many things that the twins enjoy, but volleyball is usually at the top of the list, and they always have something to say about it – about drills, their teammates, upcoming games. Most of the time, though, it is about themselves.

You don’t know how the conversation came to it, but they are arguing within a matter of minutes, which is also nothing new. No two siblings are more competitive than the Miya twins. It’s both entertaining and annoying, and you take Osamu’s side every time.

“I’m just sayin’ that you’re sloppier, ’Tsumu.”

“Sloppier?! Yer sets were off, like, half the time today!”

“No, they weren’t.”

“Yuh-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“See ya tomorrow, [Y/n]-chan,” Kokomi tells you as you arrive at her house, and you nod, stopping just briefly to wave goodbye. She doesn’t bother bidding goodbye to the twins, who are too engrossed in their bickering to even notice. “Our packet for math is double-sided, so don’t forget.”

“… I won’t,” you mumble sheepishly.

She waves once more, then saunters down the pathway to her front door.

Turning to see that Osamu and Atsumu are now further away, having left you behind, you frown and jog slightly to catch up.

“If ya really are the better setter,” Atsumu is saying once you’re within earshot, his voice rising, “then prove it! Vertical sets, last man standing wins.”

“We only got one volleyball at home, moron,” Osamu retorts. Then he tilts his head, and you nearly miss a step, surprised, when he suddenly turns around to look at you. “You have one, don’t you, [Y/n]?”

Even after four years, you’re not quite used to him using your first name without an honorific. “Yeah,” you reply, attempting to keep your tone from sounding too flustered.

Your dad had gotten you one after the twins mentioned their interest in volleyball during an awkward joint family dinner not long after you’d met them. It’s important to support your soulmate’s hobbies, he’d told you, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to be a bit more athletic, anyway.

You like volleyball just fine. It’s one the more enjoyable sports to play during gym, but it hasn’t got a hold of you quite like it has on Osamu and Atsumu. Still, the volleyball remains in your room, pumped up and ready to be played around with when you feel like it.

“We’ll just borrow it for a bit,” Osamu says. “Wanna judge?”

“Aw, c’mon, ’Samu,” Atsumu complains. “We don’t need a judge. Why’s she gotta be there?”

The sharp reply in your throat is cut off by Osamu.

“’Cause we’re using her volleyball, and I want her there.”

You blink.

A bitter expression crosses Atsumu’s face. Then he knocks his head back and groans. “Ugh,” he says loudly, but for some reason, he does not push it further.

The three of you part ways when you reach your house. You head inside, text your mom to tell her that you’re going to the Miyas’ for a little while, drop your school things off in your room and grab your volleyball, and head back out.

Miya-san tells you that the boys are already in the backyard when she lets you in. Sure enough, when you walk out into the small strip of land behind their house, Osamu and Atsumu are waiting there, already disputing their previous setting records.

“Here,” you announce, tossing your volleyball to Osamu.

He catches it easily and meets Atsumu’s eyes, narrowing his own.

“Standing vertical sets, no stopping,” Atsumu says as the two of them move further apart.

“Loser gets first dibs on the PlayStation for the next two months,” Osamu adds.

“Deal.”

Your eyes track your volleyball as Osamu raises it over his head, perching it onto his fingers with a kind of firm delicacy that makes the ball look perfectly at home.

And without words, without even looking at each other, the two boys begin at the exact same time.

You sit on the chair next to the potted plant and watch them idly.

They really are mirror images of each other. The same concentration wrinkles their brows, their jaws set. You’ve heard from members of both the girls’ and boys’ volleyball teams that Osamu is the better player by a slim margin, but here, with them facing each other and the volleyballs’ soft tap tap taps hitting your ears in a syncopated rhythm, you admit that it’s very hard to tell.

Really, you do not need to be here – Atsumu’s right for once, because the twins have a scary awareness of their surroundings when it comes to volleyball, and one will certainly catch the other if he fumbles.

The competition goes on for a long, long time.

“Gettin’ tired, ’Samu?” After what seems to be hours, Atsumu breaks the silence, shaking you out of your daze.

Osamu scoffs. “You wish, ’Tsumu.” Though his voice is steady, you notice that he’s breathing a little harder, and his sets are getting higher.

Your own wrists are starting to cramp. How long have they been doing this now?

A few more minutes plod by.

Then – finally – the volleyball lands off-kilter on Atsumu’s fingers. You sit up, eyes widening as it bounces off to the side.

A curse flies out of Atsumu’s mouth as he dives after it, but to no avail. It lands on the grass and quickly rolls to a stop. He’s lost.

“You lose,” you say, because you feel like being petty.

“Shaddup!”

“Guess I’m still the better setter.” On your left, Osamu continues setting the ball. There’s a grin on his face now, and you know that he’s doing this purely to tick Atsumu off. “Bet I can break my record.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu gripes, picking up their volleyball and standing up. “Stop showin’ off!”

Osamu ignores him.

What happens next would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so horrible.

Fuming, Atsumu tosses the volleyball up. It ascends in a perfectly straight line, and as it falls back down, he winds his other arm back and spikes the ball straight at Osamu.

Instead of hitting Osamu, however, it slams straight into your volleyball right as it’s descending. Thud.

All of you watch, frozen, as your volleyball flies up and over the wall into the neighbor’s yard.

None of you say a word for a good five seconds.

You leap at Atsumu, fully intending to throttle him. “Ya idiot!”

“I didn’t mean to!” he shouts back, struggling to escape your grip. His hand presses flat against your face and you have half a mind to bite it off. “Let go!”

“Stupid ‘Tsumu,” Osamu hisses. “That’s Akiyama-san’s yard!”

Upon hearing the name, the two of you still.

Everyone on your street knows Akiyama-san. He’s old and crochety, and he walks with a cane that he lifts high above his head whenever he’s shouting at any of you because he hates kids. Everything your parents have hammered into your head about greeting your elders sails right out whenever you spot him walking down the street. Nobody says it, but you’re all afraid of him. Even the Miya twins.

The worst thing about Akiyama-san, at least at this very moment, is that he has a dog – a big, mean one, even meaner than its owner. A dog who, as you, Atsumu, and Osamu find when you peek over the wall, is thankfully nowhere in sight at the moment.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Do we ask Akiyama-san to get it for us?” you whisper, eyes glued on your volleyball nestled in one of the bushes.

“Are ya dumb? If he doesn’t kill us, he’ll just feed the ball to his dog,” Atsumu shoots back.

“Atsumu,” Osamu says, and you look over to see him staring ahead with his chin resting on top of the wall. There’s a serious tilt to his mouth. “Go get it.”

“… Hah?!”

“It’s yer fault,” you argue.

“Well – well”—Atsumu glares at you, then at his brother—“’Samu’s the one who was settin’ it!”

“Still yer fault,” mutters Osamu. “I ain’t riskin’ my life.”

“So you’re riskin’ mine?!”

You shift uncomfortably, their quarreling fading away as you consider the options. Your volleyball is a nice one. Not cheap at all. Your dad would be quite upset if he found out you sacrificed it to Akiyama-san’s yard, and he’d probably make you go apologize and ask for it by yourself.

Swallowing, you hoist yourself up.

“I’ll get it.”

The noise the twins make is nothing short of a hushed squawk as you clamber over the wall.

Your shoes land softly on the grass. Scanning the yard, you nod to assure yourself that it’s empty, then glance at the dog door built into the back door. It doesn’t budge. You look up at the windows. All the blinds are shut.

Further emboldened, you move your gaze to your volleyball, tiptoeing towards it and picking it up gently.

Success.

Smiling, you face the twins.

Their faces have gone pale.

Your smile fades as a soft growl pierces the evening air. Looking over your shoulder, you lock eyes with Akiyama-san’s monster dog.

Drool drips from its jowls, teeth large and sharp and yellow, eyes beady and black. You’ve no idea what breed it is. All you know is that it is there, and it is huge and angry.

It probably dreams of eating kids, you think, blood draining from your face. You’d be a full course meal with the volleyball as dessert.

Osamu whispers your name.

You turn again, sweat dripping down your forehead, and see him perched on top of the wall, knees bent and arms outstretched towards you as if he were in a volleyball match. The red string on his pinkie drifts in the breeze.

Throw it, he mouths.

You inhale. Tighten your hold on your volleyball. Then you launch it towards Osamu and sprint towards him.

The dog lets out a thundering bark, running after you. You can hear the tags on its collar clanking against each other. Its giant paws flatten the grass beneath it.

Osamu catches the volleyball and tosses it at Atsumu.

You jump, and you swear you feel jaws snap at your heels.

“Osamu!”

He grabs you by your wrists and throws his weight backwards. Your legs scrape against the concrete wall as the boy hauls you up and over it, sending both of you tumbling headlong into their yard.

When you come to, your mind feels fuzzy, body shaking with adrenaline. Beneath you, Osamu groans. You hastily roll off him to lie on the grass.

“Thank you,” you pant.

Osamu gulps for breath. “’S nothin’.”

Behind the wall, the dog continues barking.

“What the hell!” Atsumu cries, and you crack your eyes open to see his face pop into your field of vision. “Do ya have a death wish or somethin’?”

For the first time, Miya Atsumu actually looks concerned for you.

“No.” You prop yourself up onto your elbows, wincing at the ache in your shoulder and the stinging on your knees. You glance at them. Yikes. They’re all scraped up. But despite all of it, you feel a grin spreading across your face. “I just ain’t a wimp like you.”

He gawks, then sputters.

“Nice receive, ’Tsumu,” Osamu says. He gets up with a grunt, then helps you up. His arm slides underneath yours and across your shoulders. “You can walk fine, right?” he asks you plainly.

“Yeah. Kinda.” You’re still a bit trembly.

He nods. His hand remains steady on your shoulder.

As the two of you start ambling towards the house, Atsumu says your name.

Guilt twists his features in an unfamiliar way when you look at him. He lowers his head slightly, eyes averted.

“… Sorry,” he mumbles, looking for all the world like he’d rather wrestle Akiyama-san’s dog right now.

You regard him. “’S fine,” you say, slowly.

(In the back of your mind, you realize that it really is. All your anger must’ve fizzled out with the run.)

The boy’s expression doesn’t change, but his shoulders slump a little, as if relieved.

“Let’s get the bandages from bathroom,” Osamu mutters while Atsumu slides the door open. “But we gotta be quick, ’cause if Ma –”

“If I what?”

For the third time that day, you all freeze in place. It’s an interesting sight – you and Osamu with your arms around each other’s shoulders, Atsumu with both volleyballs in his arms. The shadow of the twins’ mother, falling over the three of you.

Ah, crap.

Miya-san’s gaze flickers downward at your scratched-up legs. Her face goes through more emotions than you can count, and then it stills.

She takes a deep breath, but the twins beat her to it.

“It wasn’t me!”

—

prev | next

[yourlocalmerchgirl]

Is it ok if I call you mine? Part Two

Soft!Joel Miller x Neurodivergent/ anxious F!reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: Joel is falling for you, and he wastes no time coming to your aid when you call him in the middle of the night because you needed to hear his voice

Soft! Joel miller x neurodivergent reader AU (outbreak never happens)

Warnings: soft Joel, concerned Joel, protective Joel, neurodivergent, audio overstimulation, anxiety, self inflicted angst. Best friend Tommy, falling in love. Acceptance, low self esteem.

A/N: I hope you guys are loving this story as much as I’ve loved working on it! I’ve been so touched hearing from people have been relating to the story so far and I’m thankful for you all!

There’s not a lot of descriptors about reader other than eye color but they can easily be changed.

The wind howls as it slams rain against the windows, shaking the screens as it pulls the rain back and forth with each gust.

It’s late, your inability to sleep renders you curled up in your bed doing some light reading as you try to tire your mind. Sleep doesn’t come easy for you often. Nighttime is when your thoughts are the loudest, often analyzing and reanalyzing conversations you’ve had and situations you’ve been in, thinking about all the different ways they could of gone or thinking about every possible angle to a situation that hasn’t happened yet, just so you’re prepared if it does. The one time recently you actually slept without issue and slept well was the night you fell asleep at Joel’s. There was just something about Joel, something about his presence, his voice that was soothing to you. His ability to ease your overbearing mind allowing you to be in the moment when he was around was nothing you’ve ever experienced before and that scared you. The mystery of these uncharted waters scared you, the unknown of not having a situation in your past to lean back on for reference made you feel anxious. But the way he made you feel out weighed the anxiety for once in your life.

You start to doze off when you’re awoken by the sound of booming thunder filling the room. You sink under the covers the more the thunder rolls through the room. You can’t explain it, there’s just something about thunder that’s been anxiety inducing since you were a kid. At this point you’re curled up in the tightest ball when a loud BANG is heard and all the lights in the house go out. The bright flickers of lighting light up the room from the sides of the shades as more thunder crashes, sounding like giants falling through the atmosphere. You’re terrified at this point, trembling in a tight ball under your covers.

—————————————————————-

Joel’s Pov

Joel’s up, he’s always up late. Sleep often alluding him. He didn’t rest well, always feeling that he hasn’t done enough, that he’s failed someone. He’s just laying there half watching the tv when his phone rings, he knows Tommy’s home because he can hear him down stairs and it’s too late to be any of the guys from work. Panic washes over him when he sees your name on the screen.

“H-hello..”

“J-Joel?” Your tone sounds strained

“Sweetheart, is everything ok?”

“I-I just needed to hear your voice” he can tell by your tone that you’ve been crying, that your stressed out.

You let out a strangled whimper as another boom of thunder rolls through the sky.

“I-I’m just having a hard time a-and just needed to hear your voice.”

Joel melts at the notion that he comforts you, that your comfortable with him and that you would turn to him for comfort. Because truth be told Joel was crazy for you, you’d pretty much stolen his heart since the day he met you. All he wanted to do was show you how much he cared, how much you meant to him.

“Is it the storm sweetheart?

“Y-yes, the thunder makes me anxious and we lost power.”

“Where are you? Y’at home?”

“Yes”

“Ok darlin’ listen to me. Put some music on on your phone to focus on, use t’he flashlight on your phone t’pack a back for a couple days and I’ll come get ya.”

“No Joel…I-I couldn’t ask you to do that”

“I gotta make sure your alright darlin’, I care bout ya k’now that right? You didn’t ask me do anything, I’m doin it cause I want too, I-l I want t’see you”

“ I-I want to see you too Joel”

Joel swears he can her the smile in your voice. He means every word of it. He’ll take every chance he has to protect you, to make you feel loved and cared for.

“TOMMY” Joel yells down the stairs.

“Already got the truck runnin’, I heard you on the the phone, I’m comin’ with you.”

“Tommy no, thunder is one of your triggers I can’t ask you t’do that.”

“Y’two are the two most important people in my life, it’ll be rough but I’m not having y’two out there alone.”

When Joel and Tommy get to your street they find it blocked off. It appears the cause of the power outage was a big tree going down on the power lines further down the road.

Joel pulls up to the barricade rolling down his window.

“Evening officer, w’ould it be possible to get to that second house there?”

“Sorry roads closed”

“ I understand that sir I just need to get to my girlfriend, she’s without power and having a panic attack about all the commotion. Just need to pick her up and we will be on our away.”

“Alright, but make it quick!”

The officer moved the barricade so they can get through.

“You called her your girlfriend?”

“Fuck I dunno Tommy it just came out, I didn’t want the cop to say no.” Joel says as they pull into your drive way.

“You do like her though, you want her to be your girlfriend don’t you?”

“More than anything Tommy, I’d do anything of that girl, hell I’d take her hand and marry her tomorrow if she take me, but she probably doesn’t feel the same, what’s a girl like her want with a guy like me?”

“Stay in the truck I’ll be right back”

You swing the door open before he even reaches the top step of the porch, like you’d been waiting by the window for him, because truthfully you had been.

Joel catches a glimpse of you in the moonlight of the open window, he reaches out to caress your face when he sees how distraught you look, how puffy your eyes are when you just fall into his embrace. He’s taken a back by this for a moment, realizing you really do find safeness and comfort in him.

“Let’s get you outta here sweetheart, you’ll be nice and safe at the house with me and Tommy”

Joel grabs your bags and swiftly leads you outside into rain to the truck. Joel’s helps you into the back when he realizes Tommy’s in the drivers seat.

“Tommy? W’hatya doing?”

“Figured I’d drive back so you can be in the back with her.”

“Tommy! The thunder, you didn’t have to do this” you exclaim as you lean over the seat to give him a big hug.

Tommy didn’t have to say anything, you already knew it was hard for him to be out in the storm surrounded by the thunder too. You and Tommy where similar in those ways. Joel admired the care you showed Tommy, that even in a time of distress for you you’re making sure Tommy is alright too.

You settle back into the seat as Tommy starts backing out if the driveway. You let out a ragged breath and instinctually grab Joel’s hand as another rumble of thunder rips through the sky. He wastes no time lacing his fingers in yours, smoothing his callused thumb over the side of your hand.

You scoot closer to him as you lay your head on his shoulder, breathing out a relaxed sigh.

“Im so happy to see you Joel” you whisper as you tilt your head up to look at him.

“I’m so happy to see you to sweetheart, I’m glad you called”

Joel can tell your tired by your eyes, but you’re still, even in this moment, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Let’s get you settled so you can get some sleep, I’ll set you up in my room and I’ll sleep on the couch”

Joel grabs your bags and chuckles “Christ it looks like your moving in” he jokes as he walks you up the stairs.

“Well I had to bring my pillow too, I can’t sleep anywhere without it” you laugh shaking your head at how ridiculous you sound.

“Let’s get you out of these soaked clothes, you must be cold”

“I am a little bit” you say bearly above a whisper as you take your pillow out of one bag and dig through the other for pajamas

You go down the hall to change. Washing your face in the sink you pause just looking at yourself in the mirror.

You look like shit. But you have to tell him how you feel.

Joel’s down stairs setting up the couch when you get back from the bathroom so you lay down and curl up in the bed leaving the room dimly lit with a small lamp. Joel comes upstairs to check on you, when he gets to the doorway he sees you curled up in his bed. He finds the sight of you precious, how cozy and relaxed you look it’s a sight he could get used too. You look up to see him standing in the doorway looking at you and you give him the most genuine smile.

“Sorry, I kind of made myself at home” you say nervously.

“Oh sweetheart don’t be sorry. I want you to feel at home here. I was just coming to check on you, make sure you were comfortable.” Joel says sitting on the end of the bed.

“You must be tired, try to rest and get some sleep. I’ll be on the couch if ya need anything.” Joel says reaching for the lamp.

“J-Joel… you can..um will you stay with me?”

Joel is taken by surprise that you’d actually want to share the bed with him, that he just stares at you for a moment. When he says nothing you become anxious, fearing you misread things.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Forget I said anything.”

You reach to shut the lamp off but he rests his hand on your leg to stop you.

“No, no sweetheart it’s not like that, I’m honestly just surprised. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say that.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured either. I don’t feel pressured at all, Im being genuine.”

“If you’re truly ok with it I would like to stay in here with you” Joel says as he searches your eyes for any hesitance. But when you meet his gaze with the kindest genuine smile he knows your serious.

“I usually sleep without a shirt, i-is that ok?”

“Of course, how ever your comfortable, I don’t want you to change your routine because I’m here.”

“Sweet dreams sweetheart” Joel says before clicking off the lamp.

“Thanks Joel you too.” You flash him a smile even though it’s dark, thinking he won’t see it but he does.

Another boom of thunder rolls across the sky as you let out a pained sigh. rolling over and resting your head against Joel’s arm, just like in the truck.

“It’s ok, come here baby girl, I got you.” Joel says as he opened his arms, hoping he didn’t freak you out by calling you baby girl, it just came out.

As you scoot closer, he wraps you up in his arms. It’s dizzying how good you feel there, the way you nestle you head into his broad chest until you’ve found the perfect spot. The way you contently hum as you wrap you’re arm around his mid section holding him just as closely as he is you that really makes him melt. The way you start sleepily drawing little circles on the skin over his ribs as you lay there. He could die in this moment and be ok with it, being happier than he has been in years. It’s in that moment that all he wants to do for the rest of his life is love and care for you, to protect you and be there for your every up or down.

“Thank you Joel” you mumble sleepily as the sound of his heartbeat starts lulling you to sleep.

“Anything for you sweet girl” Joel whispers as he kisses the crown of your head.

��————————————————————-

As your eyes flutter open the next morning your head is still nestled on Joel’s chest. The two of you slept like that all night, which makes your smile tug at the corner of your lips. This is what happiness and acceptance feels like. You gingerly and quietly slip out from under Joel’s arm and sit up on the bed. You sit there for a moment and take in the true beauty of Joel, the way the morning sun highlights his strong nose and jaw. How his sun kissed olive skin glistens with every rise and fall of his chest.

You slowly get up off the bed as to not wake him and quietly pad down the stairs to get a drink of water.

You sneak back up the stairs and crawl back into bed. Joel had rolled over while you were down stairs, so you just curled up on your side and settle back in.

There was just something about Joel you couldn’t put your finger on. You wanted him to be the first thing you saw in the morning and the last thing you saw at night. You wanted to be there for the ups and downs, showering him with love every chance you got. Something about Joel just felt like home. You are pulled from your thoughts by Joel as he wraps his arm around you pulling you back flush against his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. A giggle bubbles up when his scruff tickles the soft skin of your neck.

Here’s your chance…

“Hey J-joel” your voice is barely above a whisper

“Hmm” he sleepily hums in response

“I-I like you, like a lot” I say nervously, regretting the words as soon as you say them, preparing for the rejection.

Joel’s eyes snap open, he feels like he’s in a dream, he couldn’t of heard you right?

“Say that again sweetheart”

You roll over so your facing him, though you’re barley able to look him in the eye.

“I like you Joel… I like you a lot.” You nervously say as you reach out smoothing your fingers along his cheek bone.

Joel feels his heart beat quicken. “I like you a lot too baby girl…god I’ve been dying to tell you.

“Is it ok if I call you mine?”

Tag list:

@kalllistos @justasadlittlebean @bcon24 @its-dee-lovely @fishingforpike @macaroni-artist @gengar-neutral @morgaussy @sailorsophiee @samarav @dionysusinparis @arlovesper @fandomsohmyohmy @lovelyladiess @lovebandrry @joelmillersblog @pinkbowsandcoffeestains @pascal-is-punk @thatgirlpeaches @alyhull @fandomwhored @hiddenbabynyc @goldenhxurs @frecklefacelm @amyispxnk

[frostyscript]

˚˖౨ৎ~𓍢ִ໋ Investigating Outer Banks most haunted lighthouse

"Investigating Outer Banks most haunted lighthouse"

part: 2, exploring

warnings!; I'm not american so correct me if sth is wrong; english is not my first language!!

notes; this is supposed to read like you're watching a video

previous part | masterlist | next part

The video resumed with Colby holding the camera, the rustle of his jacket audible as he panned across the faintly lit room. “Still nothing,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. They had been there for about half an hour now.

Sam crouched next to the flashlight they’d set up, glancing over his shoulder at the staircase behind him. “Yeah, but it’s weird, right? Like… it doesn’t feel empty in here.”

The camera swung back to Sam, zooming in slightly. “You think she’s just watching us?” the tattooed man asked.

“Maybe,” Sam replied, fiddling with the flashlight. “I mean, her aunt did say she’s more curious than anything else. But—” He paused, looking up abruptly as the faint sound of nails clicking against the wooden floor echoed through the room. “Wait. The dog.”

Colby turned the camera quickly toward the spiral staircase, catching the tail end of the white dog as it padded silently up the steps, its ears alert and posture calm but purposeful.

“Dude,” Sam whispered, standing up. “Is it going to—”

“Should we follow it?” Colby asked, cutting him off, his voice tense but tinged with excitement.

The blonde hesitated, glancing between the staircase and the equipment they’d left behind. “I mean, dogs usually know stuff, right? Like, what if it’s leading us to her?”

“Or what if it’s leading us to a really bad idea?” Colby countered, zooming in on the staircase as the dog disappeared around the curve of the steps.

They stood in silence for a moment, sharing a look, the faint creak of the dog’s steps fading above them. Then Sam grabbed the flashlight and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The camera jostled slightly as Colby followed him toward the staircase. “I hate when you get all brave, man,” he muttered, trying to keep his tone light, though the nervous energy was clear in his voice.

As they ascended the spiral stairs, the air seemed to grow colder. Colby’s breathing was audible over the camera mic, and Sam glanced back at him once or twice, whispering, “You good?” before continuing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Colby murmured, the camera focusing briefly on the worn metal railing. “Just feels… off, you know?”

They reached the halfway point when the dog, now sitting a few steps ahead, turned its head toward something above them. It didn’t bark or growl—just stared, unblinking.

Colby caught the moment on camera, zooming in slightly. “What’s it looking at?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know, but—” Sam started, but his words were cut off as a sudden rush of cold air swept past them. The flashlight flickered in Sam’s hand, and before either of them could react, a shadow fell past them, just outside the railing.

The camera jerked as Colby instinctively backed up, capturing a fleeting, indistinct figure. It was like looking through frosted glass—a human-like silhouette, wearing what might’ve been a flowing dress, arms outstretched as though reaching for something—or someone. The figure fell in eerie silence, and just as it disappeared from view, a faint splash echoed up from the depths below.

“Holy—” Colby gasped, his voice breaking. “Did you see that?”

Sam froze, staring down through the gap in the railing. “Yeah. I saw it. That was—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “Did you get that on camera?” Sam asked, his voice urgent. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Colby replied quickly, his voice shaking just a little.

The dog stood, shaking itself briefly before trotting further up the stairs without hesitation.

“No way,” Colby muttered, still holding the camera steady despite his shaking hands. “That just happened. That just—what time is it?”

Sam fumbled with his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dim stairwell. “Eleven eleven,” he said quietly, his voice filled with an uneasy awe. “Double digits. Her aunt said—”

“I know what her aunt said,” Colby interrupted, panning the camera down the spiral stairwell. “We just saw her. Like, actually saw her.”

The two stood there in stunned silence for a few seconds before the sound of the dog’s nails clicking on the floor above broke through.

“He’s leading us somewhere,” Sam said, gripping the flashlight tighter. “Come on.”

“Dude…” Colby hesitated, but the camera followed Sam up the steps anyway.

[sketchiefoxie]

A Rottmnt Horror Au. Proceed with caution…

(Optional Soundtrack/Ambience)

April groaned softly, shifting out of the curled up position she held, briefly wondering where she was. The ground was hard, cold, slightly damp, and smelled of gutter scum. Her body ached, feeling as if she had been kicked repeatedly. Or almost like as if she had fallen from a high drop…

With a jolt, her eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself up. It was dark, like really dark, making it practically impossible to see. As she widened her eyes in an attempt to see better, she picked up a flicker of movement, shifting deep within the darkness. It was brief, and there was no sound to accompany it, but it scared her regardless. Like the skittering of a monster.

Her heart began to hammer, eyes straining to see if she could catch the movement again. She couldn't tell if she was just seeing things, or if something was actually there. She knew watching creepy documentaries before bed had been a bad idea, but now she really regretted it!

April reached up to turn on her headlight, then froze, feeling nothing but her curly, grimy hair, sticky from whatever gunk was on the floor. Forcing herself to stay calm, she began to pat about, feeling the ground for where it might be, eyes never leaving the black space where she had seen the brief flicker.

Her fingertips brushed up against something, and she flinched momentarily before realizing that it was her phone. Scrambling to grab it, April pulled it close, turning it on to let her home screen illuminate the darkness.

The brightness of her Lock Screen (which happened to be a picture of her and her parents) shining from her cracked phone was just enough to illuminate the space she was in, giving light to her surroundings. Ok, so she was in what looked like a tunnel like structure. There was a wall behind her, so she assumed she was at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel itself was narrow, and built of concrete, the wall behind her angling upwards as if it led up and out. It probably did…

In front of her, was more darkness, leading presumably further into the tunnel. She glanced up, hoping to see where the space above her led. While her light illuminated a hint of her surroundings, she only saw darkness above herself. Like a yawning bottomless pit, only she was on the other side, looking up into the void, rather than deep down into it. April frowned, not exactly comforted by the sight, yet forcing her heartbeat to slow, calming herself down with deep steady breaths. Panicking wouldn’t help her puzzle out how she had wound up here.

A few days prior, April had heard mysterious rumors that the local sewer tunnels beneath NYC were haunted, along with a rumor that someone may have died in the tunnels. April being a journalist, and truth seeker extraordinaire with a huge following on her socials, just couldn't leave this mystery unsolved. Plus, being an urbex enthusiast, the idea of exploring such a place sounded thrilling, and had given her the chills. Though, now that she was here alone, she was beginning to regret it.

Judging based off what she could guess, she had somehow fallen down the top part of the tunnel, and had landed here at the bottom. Briefly she recalled a ladder rung breaking beneath her feet, and her chin slamming up against something hard and metallic. Oof... She had fallen off the ladder, hadn’t she? Well, that would explain the soreness.

April winced, and felt her chin with one hand. Yup, the skin was split. Not badly, but enough that it had certainly bled for a while. That wasn't good. She could get an infection like this…

April lit the flashlight on her phone, setting it down on the ground to keep the entirety of the space lit up. She needed to make sure she still had her supplies, and that they hadn’t gotten lost. Ok, backpack, check. Pulling her pack open, she rummaged around, finding her snacks, first aid kit, water, and emergency sleeping bag. Luckily, she still had her face kerchief tied round her neck, just incase she needed to keep her face covered due to unsafe air, or cameras… She wasn’t really keen on getting caught by the police. However, her handgun, and her headlamp were nowhere to be seen, and neither was her portable flashlight she had brought. Man, she wished she had gone with somebody!!

Looked like her only light source for now, was going to be her phone, so she better conserve the battery. Shoot, that was another thing missing from her pack. She had lost her portable charger!! April really hoped she’d find that one. Or she’d be screwed unless she could find her headlamp. It could have skidded away, or gotten caught on one of the ladder rungs.

April heaved a sigh, gathering her items up and placing them back in her backpack. She took another glance around at the dark space she was supposedly stuck in, chewing on her lip indecisively. So far, it seemed like she only had a few options she could pick…

Next ->

Masterpost

Original Post

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 7

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. As always, I hope you enjoy reading! :)

Just like everything else, the elevators are all dead.

After we rummage around for the flashlight, we have to climb the emergency stair-well to make it back up to the lobby. As the door creaks open, we find only more darkness and empty space waiting for us, but at least we have the moonlight, now. We step out. It streams in through the gargantuan windows, glittering across the polished tiles. I find it calming to know that despite everything that we people are going through tonight, the night still knows how to be beautiful all the same. I watch the round belly of the moon glow behind a thin cloud.

Beside it, a bright star winks.

I imagine it's my Momma winking down at me.

I use the sight to steady myself.

I have to be brave.

"The doors are all locked, right?" I whisper, thinking of all those dead soldiers outside, standing to attention. "Nothin's gettin' in?"

"Nothin's gettin' in." Shane promises. "Doors are all electric. Couldn't let anythin' in even if they wanted to, ain't that right?"

Dad side-eyes Shane. "Yeah."

"See? Nothin' to worry about."

Shane's doin' that thing again — lying to hide the truth.

As subtle as I can, I scoot a little closer to him, away from my Dad.

We watch as the light crawls over the reception desk, the scattered papers, and the muddy boot-prints we left behind earlier today. I hold my breath, waiting for a type of creature to lunge out, teeth bared. I must shudder, 'cause I feel my Dad give my hand a squeeze, and pull me back into his side. I wish he didn't. The light continues over the tiles, and then it slowly climbs the furthest wall from us. Dad levels it with the entrance to a corridor so dark that it seems to just be a black hole at the end of a long tunnel.

There's just one detail out of place.

"What's—?"

It's so bizarre that my Dad can't even put it into words.

There — Red light, projected from somewhere inside the corridor, flashing on the tiles. The corridor must make a turn, and the light must be around the corner, blinking on and off. On, off. On, off — As if the building isn't completely out of power.

For some reason, this light gets to stay on.

"What is that?" Dad mutters to Shane. "That corridor— What's it lead to?"

On, off. On, off.

The flashlight flickers for a moment.

"The control room."

We've been in the control room before. During the tour, it was one of the stops. It's essentially head-quarters for the CDC, and it was lined with computer engines and monitoring equipment that looked like it belonged in a move about aliens. All around us, after he booted the system up, we saw bobbing green wave-lengths and confusing scientist languages typed in pixelated text. None of us knew what any of it meant. On the main screen, the scientist played us a video of an infected woman's brain. Together, we watched her die. It felt like attending a belated funeral service, and it was everyone's least favorite part of the tour, 'cause we were all forced to re-live our days on the road, watching what we thought was me dying; attending my funeral.

It could have been me on that video.

Glenn was picking at his nails the whole time, and Rick looked like he was hating every frame of the video. Carol was so distressed that Lori started rubbing her back, reminding us kids that it was just a video. When I glanced at Andrea, she was staring at her shoes again, thinking of Amy. My Dad was the one to eventually bully the scientist into turning the video off.

Just before it cut out, a bullet pierced the woman's skull.

I hate the control room.

Everybody hates the control room.

Now, just a few hours later, we're faced with the same room again.

"Makes sense, right?" Shane mutters. "Kill the place; conserve power for the main hub?"

On, off. On, off.

"We should check it out." Dad says.

On, off. On, off.

"Are they in there?" I ask. "Is Glenn in there?"

On, off. On, off.

"I don't know, baby."

On, off. On, off.

On.

The light does not disappear again. It seems to grow brighter by the second, until it looks like the floor's been painted red.

We hear a noise from deeper inside the CDC.

Muffle, muffle.

"What was that?" Shane asks, drawing his pistol, now, as if he can kill a sound.

Geh, Ow, Now.

My Dad draws his gun too, glancing at Shane.

Geh-Ow, Goh.

"That's someone shoutin'." I exclaim.

Shane looks at my Dad. "Jenner?"

Goh-Oh-Oh.

We start jogging toward the corridor as a small unit.

Goh-Goh-Goh.

We start running.

The red light starts to flash. A wailing alarm takes over, pulsing loudly from all directions.

NEH—NEH—NEH.

Now we're sprinting.

The cluster of noise and voices and shouting reaches a concerning volume, and we're all racing down the corridor, tryna reach it; see what it is. It has to be the group. We have to help them, if they're in trouble. When we turn the corner, we see that the light was coming from this area, above a metal door. For a moment, I can see everyone standing on the other side, inside the control room.

I begin to smile.

Wait, something's wrong.

They're all rushing to the exit.

The voice becomes clear to us, at this very last moment; just one moment too late.

I think that's—

It's Rick.

"Get out, now! " 

The last thing we see is Rick waving his hands above his head, and then the little red light blinks out once and for all, and the metal door hisses right before it slides shut. There's nothing we can do as it traps the group on one side and us on the other. 

My Dad's momentum slams him right into the door, and he uses his shoulder to brace impact, but the door just doesn't budge. Without hesitation, he shoots three bullets — Bang, Bang, Bang — Into the crevice of the doorframe, but even they get absorbed into the metal, like it's just a big silver sponge for violence; like we could beat on it forever and it still wouldn't open. I skid to a stop just behind him.

"Did he just lock us in?" I hear Glenn screeching from inside.

The siren continues.

NEH—NEH—NEH.

It's like being inside an alarm clock.

Wait, did—? Did Glenn just say that someone locked them in there? Why would they do that?

It must have been the scientist, I think. Maybe he's upset with us for wanting to leave so soon after dinner ended, so he decided to try force us all to stay, instead of just asking. I don't want to stay, and I don't wanna be friends with him, neither. He said all those things about suicide — about my Momma — and he speaks like he's a robot with only one battery in him. He gave us soap and potato salad, but he's not actually any good at making friends. He's an evil scientist. He locked my friends, plus Rick, inside.

Shane arrives one second after, and gives the door a big, hard kick, but again, it stands strong.

He was right.

Nothin's getting in. 

Nothing's getting out, neither.

It's sealed tight.

How are we gonna help 'em?

"Come on!" My Dad grunts, hitting the door.

My head thrums with the alarm.

Glenn cries again, "He just locked us in!"

Shane crouches; gets his face as close he can to the bullet holes, like it's an intercom. "Rick!" He shouts, over the noise of the voices inside — Open those doors, Jenner, Why'd you lock us in, What's going on, Mom — and crying; that's crying, I think. It sounds like Sophia, and if I were in there with them, I would want to give her a hug. Jenner's not my friend, but I think Sophia might be; maybe Carl, too. I can hear a computer lady's voice, too, but she sounds like she's cool as a cucumber, nonchalantly counting, Twenty Nine Minutes and Forty-three seconds remaining, Forty-two, Forty-one. Shane smacks the door, wanting to know what's happening. "Rick! We're here, man!"

We wait for someone to answer.

"Are we—?" I nibble on the ends of my pyjama sleeves, worried, "We're gonna get 'em out, right?"

I remember the mouse that got stuck in the walls of our old house. It struggled and struggled until eventually, it just died.

"Yes, we are." Shane nods to me, panicked but confident.

We hear approaching foot-steps from inside.

"Shane!"

It's Morales.

I think Rick must be busy talking to Jenner. He's the best with words, after all. If anyone can convince Jenner to let 'em go, he can.

"Man, what's goin' on in there?" Shane demands. "What happened?"

"Generators," Morales pants, "Jenner said they're all on their last legs. After they're gone, CDC's got nothing. No water, no lights. That's why Rick was hollering for us to leave, and why everything 'cept this room's gone kaput. Where were you? Did you notice?"

"Oh, we noticed alright." Shane rubs at his forehead, stressed. "We were in the lower levels with our thumbs up our asses."

That's a weird phrase.

Twenty-Five, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Three.

There's more arguing on the other side of the door — What happens in twenty-eight minutes, Jenner, My children are in here, Please open the doors, Answer me right now — and the sounds of chairs and computers being thrown to the floor. I think there's another fight going on, but at least I'm not in it, this time. Morales tries translating the kerfuffle to us — Somethin' about the timer; somethin' about Jenner. He says that when the timer reaches zero, something called decontamination will begin. Does that mean, like, cleaning? It's impossible to keep up, so I just keep my distance, fiddling with my pyjama shirt. I try to ignore the missing button. My Dad uses the butt of his pistol to smash open a panel by the door, but it's for a keycard. We don't got keycards, or regular keys, or nothin'.

Nothing can open these doors except Jenner.

"Do you know what this place is?"

That's him.

His voice comes booming so loud from inside the control room that even me, Shane, my Dad are startled, and we're behind the door. Everybody goes quiet. It's like when a teacher at school suddenly decides that they've had enough, and explode.

"We protected the public from very nasty stuff!"

Dad glances at me; yanks me closer, looking tense. I guess I was startin' to drift away again.

"Weaponized smallpox!"

I try my best not to flinch.

"Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country!"

I remember hearing about Ebola. It's famous for killin' people.

"Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!"

There's a long, long pause.

It almost seems like the CDC was built to trap things inside it. The smallpox, and the— the Ebola? Those might've been things that they didn't want gettin' out, ever, but we do. We want out. If Jenner doesn't give us our friends back, I'll be very sad. I'll even be sad about officer Rick. He got my Uncle Merle killed, but Shane needs him. They're like brothers. I wouldn't want Shane to lose his brother.

Carol, Jacqui, Andrea. Glenn.

I'll be very sad.

Even if we never get to eat potato salad ever again, I still want everybody to be able to leave the CDC.

Suddenly, the computer lady speaks up again but she's not countin', no more.

"H.I.T.s—" She explains to us, and if she was a person, she'd be smiling pleasantly, "High-impulse thermo-baric fuel-air explosives consisting of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between five thousand degrees and six thousand degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

Greatest—?

Greatest loss of life?

I freeze.

My Dad freezes.

Shane freezes, too.

He glances back at us; At me. He looks like his heart's stopped.

I think everyone on the other side must look the same way.

"It sets the air on fire." The scientist gives it to us in its simplest terms. "No pain."

Twenty Six minutes and Nineteen secon—

"An end to sorrow; Grief." The scientist continues, and I imagine him smiling pleasantly, too, like he's smelling a sweet flower. "No more regrets."

I realize in this moment, as the weeping on the other side starts up again, that Jenner is like my Momma. He wants to kill himself. He thinks that when the computer lady sets the air on fire, everything is going to be better for him that way. That's why he sounds so happy. I think back to dinner — His wrong-smile, his empty gaze, his dull voice — and I wonder how I didn't realize this sooner. People who are suicidal stop living a while before they actually die. I know that. I didn't notice with my Momma, neither, not until it was too late. It's too late now, too. Uncle Merle would say Jenner's taking the pussy way out, 'cause that's what he used to say my Momma did, but there's nothing easy about it. Nothin' at all.

My Momma wanted to jump off a bridge and Jenner wants to be set on fire.

Six thousand degrees, the computer lady said.

That's a lot of degrees.

I try picturing those windows to the outside again to calm myself; that star, winking.

"Everything."

The fire might kill us, too, if we don't get out.

I hear glass breaking, voices crying out, and thumping from inside.

The men must've broken the fire axes outta their cases, and are trying to chop the other three doors down with 'em.

My Dad shoots the keycard scanner.

Shane shoot, shoot, shoots the door frame.

All I can do is fiddle with my buttons and try not to cry — I've cried far too much tonight. Crying is for pussies. I ain't a pussy.

"Shane and Daryl are out there?" I hear someone shout.

"Yeah! That door, there!"

A few moments later, someone else is talking through the door.

"Harley?"

That's Glenn's voice. He's using the bullet holes as an intercom just like Shane was. I drop to my knees in front of them, pressing my hands on the freezing cold metal on either side. I wish I could peer through and see his face, but bullet holes ain't work like that. Glenn doesn't sound like he's hurt or nothin'. That's good. I smile.

Twenty Four Minutes and Fifty Sev—

"Glenn?"

"Are you okay?" He asks, voice cracking. "Your Dad? Shane?"

Glenn must be tryna peek through the bullet holes to see my face, too.

"Uh-huh." I shout back. "We're okay. We—"

Just as I'm about to say more, my Dad sneers at the door, screaming, "Somebody drag that Einstein-Motherfucker up 'ere so's I can shoot him through the fuckin' door! My kid's out here!" He punches the metal. "Come here, ya coward! You wanna die? Lemme do ya a favor!"

"You drive that axe through his skull, Rick!" Shane shouts into the door. "You do it now!"

"W-We—" I choke on my words.

My Dad is all angry again.

If the main doors weren't sealed, he would've already dragged me outta here.

"What is it?" Glenn asks me.

I try to clear my head. Through all the chaos, me and Glenn are just knelt by the door, having a conversation. Instead of thinking about my Momma, or Jenner, or all the locked doors, or the computer lady, or my angry Dad, I try to pretend that we're on the roof of the RV again, watching the sun rise, munching on old cherries without a care in the world. Bullets and axe heads and fists are banging and cutting and thumping all around us, but I just focus on Glenn, and he just focuses on me. What would I say to him, if everything was normal?

"Glenn, my favorite color's yellow."

It's the strangest thing I could've told him right now, but it's true. I love yellow. What a lovely, simple thing to think about.

"Wh—? What?"

"Y-Yeah, like um— Like the sun." I take a deep breath. "And bananas."

I'm not scared. I'm brave. I'm someone who likes the color yellow, and I'm not going to die today.

"You like bananas?" I ask.

"Wh—?"

Glenn takes a minute to adjust to the sudden change in subject — Bananas are very different from mega-explosions, after all — but then he replies, and his voice is a little calmer, this time, and a little closer, too. "Yeah," He tells me, punctuated by another gunshot. "I like bananas. Every fruit, really. My Mom used to make me and my sisters a bowl of mango and banana every day after school. We—" Somebody swings an axe into the door. I think we both jump. He continues, "We ate it all together, in— in our backyard."

"What were their names?" I ask, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Lisa," Glenn tells me, prolly imagining sunny afternoons and fingers covered in sticky fruit juice. "Naomi, and Jenny."

Lisa, Naomi, and Jenny.

Those are pretty names.

"My Momma's name was Lindsey." I find myself admitting to Glenn. This is worse than admitting my favorite color to him — This is a secret. This is something only me and my Dad know; Something I'm never allowed to talk about. Now that Merle's gone, he won't ever be able to speak my Momma's name again, which means that it died with him. That's what I'm supposed to do. After this, I swear I will. "And she was the best Momma ever."

My Dad wishes my Momma was gone forever, 'cause that's what happens when people die, like with Merle. He doesn't wanna talk about him, and he definitely doesn't wanna talk about her. But she's not gone. I know 'cause half of my cells belong to her — Lindsey Hunt's — which means that inside of me, my Momma's still alive. She made my blood, and she made my heart.

She lives in my memories.

She lives in the stars.

My Dad just don't see it.

"I bet." Glenn says. I wonder if Glenn lost his Momma, too. "What was her favorite color?"

"Blue."

Blue, like the fake sapphire gem that hung from her necklace. Blue, like her skinny jeans. Blue, like my Daddy's eyes.

"And she liked to write." I tell Glenn, 'cause maybe if I pass all these gems of information over to Glenn, my Momma can live on with him, instead, 'cause I know that as soon as we make it out of the CDC, I'm never, ever gonna be allowed to talk about my Momma again — Not to Dad, not to myself, not to anybody. If I do, I'm gonna get belted again. I don't want my Momma to die for a second time. I don't want her to be forgotten.

I think of everything I ever knew about my Momma.

"She used to write on napkins at the diner, while we waited for our pancakes. She wrote all over her hands if she ain't had any paper. She wrote a bed-time story for me too, once, for my— my fifth birthday. It was called My Little Fairy, Here's all my Kisses. 'Cause I got fairy kisses. My moles. That's what she called 'em. It was my favorite book ever. And— She called me her little fairy-girl. She always said if she could do anythin', she'd be an author."

"Open the doors!" Shane shouts. "Open them, now!"

I block it out. I block it all out.

I need Glenn to know about my Momma.

"She loved playing guitar. Daddy taught her how. She liked the Spice Girls. It's all she listened to."

Glenn lets me speak as much as I need to.

"She always kept her hair short, 'cause she hated the feeling of it touching her shoulders."

My Dad shoots the door again.

I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.

"And she wasn't sick in the head." I quickly tell Glenn, 'cause this part is really, really important. "She wasn't. People said she was, but it ain't true. She took her medicine. She weren't sick."

I think Glenn puts his hand on the door, probably right over mine, 'cause I hear a hollow thunk. I wish there was no door.

"Harley—"

"She weren't sick. She was just sad! Okay?"

He needs to get this part.

Twenty Three Minutes and Fifty-nine seconds, Fifty-eight—

My Momma used to write, and sing, and dance, but she used to cry, too. One day she came home, and she just cried all night. After that, she cried all night, every night. I never understood why. Every time I asked, she'd just cry some more. I think my Dad understood, but all he ever told me was, It's not for little girl ears to hear, chicken, so ask me somethin' different. After a while, he stopped tryna make my Momma feel better. He gave up. That's how I know he hated her, 'cause I never gave up, and I loved my Momma. She was a sad woman, but she weren't sick.

Glenn pauses, and he sounds sincere when he says, "Okay, Harley."

The others think Glenn's a bit of an idiot, but he's as every bit caring as any one of 'em.

"She was like Jenner." I say. "She was sad, and then she died, and then she weren't sad no more."

"Harley, I'm sorry." Glenn sounds out of breath. "I'm—"

"Don't be sorry." I shake my head, remembering what I told Sophia. I suck in a deep breath. "Sorry is only for when it's your fault."

Momma dyin'— That was Dad's fault. He ain't never said sorry.

I don't think he ever will.

That's okay, though, 'cause this is the last time I'm ever gonna think about my Momma. After this, never again.

"What about your Momma and Daddy?"

Glenn listened to me, so now I want to do the same for him.

"I don't know." He sighs. "I'm not sure what happened to mine. They could be gone. They could be out there somewhere, still alive."

"I think they're still alive." I say. I'm actually smiling. "If they're anythin' like you, they're alive."

Glenn is fast like a cheetah and strong like a house cat, and he's not as big as my Dad, but I'm just as sure that he's gonna live forever. Sure, he sucks at cooking, but he learnt his lesson. He's friendly. He's determined. He's resourceful. And he's real good at finding old packets of freeze-dried cherries. If they're anything like him, Glenn's Momma and Daddy are alive, and so are his sisters, Lisa, Naomi, and Jenny. All of them.

I hear Glenn laugh.

There are bombs in the walls and everybody's panicking, but me and Glenn are laughing.

"Thank— Thank you." He tells me. "And if they're not, I hope they're with your Mom, and everybody else you've lost."

Maybe everyone who's died so far are all eating fruit together, somewhere.

I hope my Uncle's not bein' too much of an asshole to 'em.

"I hope so, too," I laugh.

What a lovely, simple thing to think about.

It's as I'm sittin' there, smiling and thinking about happy things with Glenn, that the door opens. It slides into the floor, revealing Glenn on the other side, kneeling just a couple inches away from me. We stare at each other, caught off guard.

Not for long, though, 'cause my Dad grabs my shirt and forces me to stand. I stumble after him.

Glenn snaps out of it, too, and scrambles to his feet.

Then, it's just running.

Running, running, running.

Jenner let us out?

Jenner let us out!

Rick! He did it!

We run down the corridor, and then we run through the lobby, and then we run through a side corridor, and then another one, and another one, and another one, and then we're running back into the garage-lookin' space we first arrived in, and these doors are all opening, too. My Dad is running so fast that I almost can't keep up. The roller doors open inch, by inch, by inch, and we run even faster.

The night is revealed.

We run into it.

My bare feet smack against the cement, and then they sink into grass, which is so, so soft, and we hear crickets chirping, and the breeze.

"Go, go, go!" Rick shouts, leading us all through the field the other way, this time, under the moon.

"Get down!" Shane hollers.

The explosion. The explosion is still coming.

"Everybody, behind the sand bags!" Rick cries.

We run, run, run past half-dead soldiers and full-dead soldiers, and the tank, and the barricades. We reach the edge of the field, where big, brown blobs are stacked on top of each other to make a long, lumpy wall. Ahead of us, Rick vaults it, and then he pulls Lori and Carl over. Me and my Dad are next, and he gets me by the armpits and just about throws me to Rick, who just about dumps me on the ground. Dad jumps over; muscles my head down until my nose is grazing the pavement, tucked safely under his chest. There's more rushing; more people throwing themselves behind the wall.

The ground shudder-udder-udders beneath us.

Then the air is set on fire.

Everybody bunkers down as the sky bursts like a balloon. A wave of scorching hot air thrusts over our heads, carrying smoke and debris with it as it sails through the sky. I listen to empty helmets and broken pieces of metal land sporadically all over the street. The CDC crumbles in the background. Windows shatter. Rooves cave in. Walls topple over into the field like broken Legos. It's the loudest thing I've ever heard.

Eventually, it ends.

We slowly untangle, and gaze out over the sand bags together.

The CDC is a pile of rubble and ash. It sits there, smoking gracefully, like somebody's stomped-in sandcastle. It looks like it was never a building at all — just a black husk. I think of Jenner, willingly sat at his computers, burned to a crisp. I wonder if it made him happy. Weirdly enough, I hope it did. I hope he ended up wherever he wanted to be. We watch as the moon rises behind the destroyed utopia, 'cause despite everything that us people have gone through tonight, the night knows how to be beautiful all the same.

Orange burns bright against the black of night.

We admire it like a nice view.

"Is everybody okay?" Rick gulps, hands on his hips.

Everybody murmurs a general yes.

When I glance at my Dad, he's already looking at me. Already, I know that nothing is going to be the same after this. We're not coming out the same way we went in. Next to us, Rick pants beside his family. He wraps them in a hug. Carol holds Sophia's hand to her mouth as they both cry softly. Morales and Miranda hold Louis and Eliza. Glenn takes off his cap; almost drops it. When he meets my eye, I feel a little embarrassed about all the things I told him when we were talking through the door. Shane runs his hands through his hair. Jacqui and T-Dog smile.

Andrea— Wait.

Andrea and Dale. They're not here.

That's when I see Jacqui point to the other side of the field.

"Guys, I think that's them."

I follow her finger with my eyes.

Everybody does.

Like two little dots in the distance, we watch as Dale and Andrea poke their heads up from behind some more sand bags. They dust themselves off, hesitantly look around, and then they spot us, and some of us wave to them.

Only Dale waves back.

I think back to what happened with Glenn, and I pretend that the part of me that was still holdin' onto my Momma died in the CDC. I pretend that it's a little burnt chunk turning to ash, right next to Jenner. I am never going to talk about her again. I'm never even gonna think about her. I forget every memory I ever had of her, and that's it — She's really gone, now. She died with me. I hope she would forgive me. If I could talk to her one last time, I'd tell her that I just don't want Daddy to beat on me, anymore, and that I'm sorry.

One last brick falls from the CDC.

It's time to leave another home again.

When I climb into Dad's truck, I can see Shane standing in the shadow of the RV, sneering.

Dad loads his pistol and places it on the dash, staring him down.

Shane scoffs.

Everything else might be over, but not this.

They are going to kill each other.

I'm sure of it.

As rural Georgia rolls past the windows, I stare at the pistol on the dash, thinking of Shane. I stare at Dad's bouncing leg and his knuckles as he cracks them, and I think about what might be going on in his head. I stare at my feet, thinking about how we have no home again.

When my Dad reaches for the gear stick, my body does that thing again where it flinches all on its own. I regret it immediately.

He gives me the weirdest look.

I go back to staring at the loaded pistol just so I don't have to look at him.

This is how the entire car ride goes.

Everybody is exhausted come morning.

By the time the sky turns pale blue, we're pulled over in the parking lot of a small strip mall. We all climb out, revealing ourselves to each other in the sunlight. Everybody is covered in soot and sweat, still dressed in their sleep clothes. Most of us don't even have any shoes, I realize. Rick's walking around in his socks. Everything we owned got blown up. There are no more water bottles, no more food, no more hair brushes, books, pillows, blankets, tooth brushes, or even any toilet paper. We took everything we owned, down to our very last protein bar, into the CDC.

'Cause thought we were safe.

We were wrong.

We might as well be holding a banner that says, We have lost everything. Don't bother robbing us.

Some of the men break off to search for supplies without really telling anyone. Nobody's really talking. Shane and Rick search the convenience store. Glenn and Morales take the office supply shop and the pet shop. My Dad takes the book shop all on his own, lugging his crossbow over his shoulder, glaring at Shane. Supplies used to mean gas and bullets, but now it means anything. 

All I have is my dinosaur pyjama shirt, some purple pants, and a hair lackey, now.

And my Dad. I think.

I watch him disappear through the little blue door.

"Hi, Harley." A sweet voice says.

I look up from my bare feet to see Sophia walking over to me. She's just like me. All she has is a blue shirt with a rainbow on it, some spotty pyjama pants, her shoes, and the headband in her hair. Oh, and her dolly. Still, she smiles. I'm glad she's okay.

When she reaches me, I scoot over.

She sits next to me on the abandoned coffee-table I'm sitting on.

Neither of us say anythin' for a minute, and it's like that day on the picnic blanket again. Neither of us know what to say, so we say nothing. We watch Glenn and Morales go literal dumpster diving outside the office supply shop, and we both laugh when Glenn leans so far over the edge that he sorta just falls in. Morales has to pull him out by the back of his jeans. We hear him complain, Pinche idiota, as he tries very hard not to grab anywhere near Glenn's ass. He fishes Glenn out, who's splattered with dumpster-gunk and random bits of trash.

He holds up an object to Morales, grinning.

"Wonder what he found." Sophia giggles. "He must've really wanted it. I bet it was a new cap."

I find myself giggling, too. "I bet it was a giant bar of chocolate."

"I bet it was a neck pillow."

"I bet it was batteries for his Walkman."

"I bet it was a comic."

"I bet it was headphones to block out the sound of Dale's stories."

Sophia turns to look at me, a glint in her sleepy eyes and a smile between her cheeks. I think this is what friends do. When we hear Dale pulling out that poetry book again from nearby, ready to form another story circle while everybody waits, we burst into laughter.

I cover my mouth. "S'like he heard me."

"He's way too old for that." Sophia claims. "Old people have bad ears."

"Dale's not that old."

"Yeah, he is. He's got grey hair and glasses and everything!"

"Your Momma's got grey hair!" I remind her.

"Oh, yeah." She covers her mouth now, giggling and going pink. "Oopsie."

"Don't worry, I won't tell 'er you said that."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

That's also somethin' friends do. They keep secrets.

"Pinkie promise?" Sophia offers.

I link my pinkie with hers, and we shake 'em.

"Pinkie promise." I say officially. "I won't ever tell your Momma that you called her super, super old."

"Hey!" She grins. "I didn't say that!"

"Okay." I shake our pinkies again. "I promise I won't ever tell your Momma you accidently called her a lil' bit old."

"Better." Sophia smiles. "Thanks."

We go back to watching Glenn and Morales together, 'cause it's a bit like watching an episode of Tom and Jerry. By now, they've cleaned out the office supply store and are checking out the pet shop. The door's all boarded up, but they ain't got tools to pry it open, so they just kinda tug at it for a while. I think Glenn asks Morales to try use a rock, 'cause he picks one up off the ground and pounds it against the nails in the wood, but he ends up dropping it onto his bare toes. He bends to soothe them, frowning. Glenn laughs. Me and Sophia laugh, too.

Glenn and Morales really are stumped, though. The door won't open, and the windows are all boarded up, too.

That's when my Dad emerges from the book shop. He's holding a plastic bag full of stuff, minding his own business. He's about to walk back when he spots Glenn and Morales acting like idiots. We watch as my Dad debates going over to 'em. Eventually, he does. He must actually call them idiots, 'cause the two men roll their eyes, but my Dad just unsheathes his knife and starts whittling the boards off the door.

When it's flimsy enough, he uses his shoulder to force it open. After three crack, crack, cracks, the door bursts open.

Glenn and Morales nod, thanking him.

My Dad walks away.

"Woah. Your Dad's nice?" Sophia whispers to herself. "I always thought he was scary."

A little, I almost tell her.

"Not really." I shrug, instead. "You know, everybody always says that."

"That's 'cause everybody's always gettin' glared at." She snickers. "He's got such a mean face. So did Merle. Not you, though."

I give her a confused look.

"Okay, maybe you do."

I push her lightly. "Whatever."

She snickers some more, which makes me smile.

"Really, though. It's nice he helped them."

I always knew my Dad wasn't a bad person. Someone can't be a bad person when they sing me to sleep every night, and keep my baby photos, and make sure I always eat 'fore they do, and go cold when there's only one blanket. They can't be bad when they make sure animals never suffer when we hunt 'em, and feed birds the bread from their lunches while they're on break, and recommend brands of diapers to other people in the baby aisle. My Dad's done all of those things.

But I never knew 'bout nice. Nice is for Disney princesses.

I think I see it, though. I wonder what changed. The only thing I can think of is Uncle Merle not bein' here no more. 'Cause I know that if he was here, my Dad wouldn't have helped Glenn and Morales get that door open. He also wouldn't be handing out books and magazines to the women, like he is right now. I watch as he gives Jacqui a fashion magazine, and then a small assortment of bookmarks he found to Dale, who's been dog-earing his poetry book up until now. Dale's face lights up. When they all start thanking him for the small gifts, my Dad quickly walks away.

Merle wanted to rob these people. I heard him talking about it one night.

You're not fuckin' serious. My Dad had scoffed to my Uncle, They got kids here. What if that was Harley?

My Uncle Merle used to beat me, too.

He was the first person to ever beat me.

When my Dad came home from his shift and found me shirtless on the sofa, covered in bruises with my hair all knotted, he went straight for the pistol they used to keep under the sink, cocked it, and barged into the spare bedroom, where Uncle Merle was knocked out in his bed. He'd been sniffing powder all day, which always made him crazy right before it made him sleepy. I remember hearing him fall to the floor. My Dad almost shot his brother in the face that night. They argued for a long, long time.

When my Dad came out, he was bruised, too.

He silently sat next to me and held me for so long that we both fell asleep there, watching cartoons on mute.

After that, my Dad started beating me, too.

Maybe like how my Momma used to be a part of me, Merle's still a part of my Dad.

I'm not sure if I miss that side of Merle.

I don't think I miss him.

That's what Sophia said about her dead Dad.

It's what I almost think about my Uncle Merle.

Almost.

But I don't, 'cause Merle's blood.

He's a part of me, too.

Glenn and Morales enter the pet shop, disappearing behind all the boarded windows. Since we can't watch them anymore, which makes Sophia pout, Aw, that was fun, we decide to pass the time by letting her do my hair instead. I bask in the sun while she takes her time weaving a bunch of braids into my hair — Big ones, lil' ones, wonky ones. She even braids my bangs, which we both think is really funny. She tells me I look like one of her old Barbie dolls, 'cause she used to always experiment on their hair. We talk about all the toys we used to have, like Littlest Pet Shop and Nerf guns. My first ever toy was a Nerf gun. When I tell Sophia, she tells me her first ever toy was a pink teddy bear.

It's not long before we notice Glenn walking up to us. He's holding something behind his back.

"Hey, guys." He calls out, grinning. "Nice hair."

"She looks pretty, doesn't she?" Sophia smiles. "You want me to do yours?"

He laughs. "Uh... maybe later. Thanks."

"What's behind your back?" I ask him, trying to take a peek.

"Oh, yeah. You have to close your eyes." He says, and then he realizes that Sophia might feel left out, so he tacks on, "A-And you, too, Sophia."

"No, it's okay." She shrugs. "It's for Harley, right?"

"What? How'd you know?" He frowns. "It could just be something cool I'm showing you guys. You don't know."

"When have you ever shown us something cool?" Sophia teases.

"I found that lizard, that one time."

"It was dead!"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "Glenn, just show it to us!"

"Okay, okay. Close your eyes first."

"Do I have to?"

"Uh, duh." Glenn tells me. "It's what's-behind-my-back protocol. So, close your eyes."

Me and Sophia glance at each other, and then I do as he says.

"They're closed." I promise him.

"Awesome." And just three seconds later, after some rustling, he says, "Now open them again."

I open my eyes. I expect to see an interesting rock, or maybe a leaf with a weird pattern. I would love that. But that's not at all what Glenn's holding out to me. He's holding a small pair of yellow rain boots. My jaw drops open. These boots are more than banana-yellow, or sunshine-yellow. They're offensively yellow. They're possibly the brightest, most shocking, most blinding color yellow, ever. They've got little cartoon lady-bugs printed all over them, and one super big lady-bug on each ankle. This must be what he found in the dumpster.

They must've been easy to spot. You can prolly spot these things from a mile away. It must be like wearing the sun.

"Happy late birthday." Glenn smiles, a little awkward, like he's not sure if I like 'em.

I reach out for the boots, and he lets me take 'em.

Yellow — My favorite color.

"Oh my God," Sophia gasps. "They're so cute."

I can't believe my eyes.

"They're perfect," I gape. "It's the best birthday gift ever, Glenn."

"Sorry I couldn't find any socks," He says. "This place was all pretty much picked clean."

I pull the boots onto my feet, and it turns out that not only are they the perfect color — They're also the perfect fit. They're not too tight, not too loose. I kick my legs up and down, feeling them out. They've got a little dumpster-sludge smeared on them, and there's a hole in the toe, but they're perfect. These are my favorite boots ever.

"Thank you, Glenn." I grin down at my new boots, tapping my toes together. "I love 'em."

He looks proud of himself.

I'm already feeling a little bit better about everything that happened at the CDC.

"You're welcome." He sticks his hands in his pockets, awkward as ever. He says goodbye to each of us and walks off toward everyone else.

"Glenn's nice, too." Sophia smiles.

I think back to the CDC, and that morning on the RV. "Yeah," I smile back, admiring my boots. "He is."

"Harley! Come on, it's time to go!"

When my Dad calls for me from the truck, I feel my smile fade almost all at once. I'm not looking forward to another silent car ride with him. It's like we can almost hear what each other wants to say, but I'm too scared to speak up, and he's too stubborn. He'd rather pretend there's nothing we need to talk about in the first place. I'm not looking forward to watching his every move, worried he'll reach out for me every time he reaches for the gear stick. I'm not looking forward to the weird look he gives me after, neither. It's like drowning without the water. 

I'm not looking forward to it at all.

I almost wish I was allowed to ride in the RV, with Glenn, instead. We could talk more about happy things.

Dad calls out for me again, louder this time. "You gonna make me repeat myself?"

Sophia gives me a little smile, but it's way too sad-looking.

"Bye, Harley."

"Bye, Sophia."

At least I have some cool boots, now.

When I climb into the passenger side, my Dad scoffs, frowning. "Fuck happened to your hair?"

"Nothin'."

I spend the whole car ride undoing Sophia's braids.

Author's Note.

We are finally done with the CDC 😭

I decided to keep Jacqui alive because Jim doesn't really die per se, in this fic, which I think is her main reason for wanting to stay at the CDC in the show. Morales' family is still here, too, but we'll get back to canon pretty soon since we're entering season two.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Sending love! :)