#like just watching the flashlight flicker on screen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigdealsgoddog · 5 months

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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”

#lookism #lookism hc #lookism smut #lookism gun #gun smut #gun x reader #gun park #lookism gun park

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piss-pumpkin · 8 months

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💫“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 day in 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.

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)

#x reader #dipper pines x reader #douce amere #gravity falls x reader #my writing #dipper pines #dipper x reader #gravity falls

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sissylittlefeather · 6 months

Text

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

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis fluff #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x you #how the web was woven #Spotify

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screams-in-writing · 5 months

Text

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.

#I typed this up on my lunch break so again phone typing mistakes possible #smg4 mr puzzles x reader #would take place earlier in the fic idea in toying with #punches the wall #this man’s got me in a creative chokehold have more writings

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jo-harrington · 7 months

Text

Unsolved (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Pairing: Kas(?)Eddie MunsonxSupernatural!Reader

Summary: It’s their job to meddle with the unknown, and it’s your job to fix it.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/Themes: Supernatural experiences, unseen demonic entity, angst, fluff towards the end possible? Hurt/Comfort, Open-Ended Ending (ask me if I’ll come back to this in a year)

Note: OK this idea has been in my head for a while, but I had no motivation or vehicle to write it so thank you @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for your Stranger Prompts event. Because I got to fuck around with this idea. No intention to make it longer than this but maybe someday; it was fun regardless.

So for your enjoyment, please enjoy my take on Prompt #13: You're switching stations on your radio when you pick up the signal of someone on a Walkie Talkie. They say they're in trouble and give their location.

You can find more on my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Nighttime. Darkness.

"There is it, you ready?"

The spirit box oscillates through channels.

"Can you hear us? Kas?"

Garbled speech, the sound of wings, and then the shrill crescendo of a guitar.

"Of course they're up to no good, they're cultists."

The flashlights flicker, then die, and someone screams.

"Join us on the next part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?"

Hawkins, Indiana - October 2018

Your boots crunch on gravel and dead leaves as you step out of your car and take in your surroundings.

You’re in the middle of a country road, surrounded by a forest; you passed a vast cornfield just a few minutes ago, and you know instinctually that there’s another farm ahead. It's as unassuming as most of the midwest is.

You know better though.

You've been called here.

Not by phone or letter, but in the way dark calls to dark. Now that you’re here though, you yearn for a chance to taste it. To possess it.

You spend most of your days alone and in silence, as bleak of an existence as you'd ever heard, but it's safe and it's yours. Painfully lonely, hermit by chance, not necessarily by choice, but you know it’s for the best. Better lay low until something greater than you rips through the fabric of reality to demand your action, as it did the other day.

Your television had turned on of its own volition and you watched two idiotic and painfully mortal boys fuck with something beyond their understanding, as they disturbed something that was better left alone.

Hawkins.

You'd knew of it, heard of it. Knew to leave it alone.

Something had happened here, something forgotten. Forbidden. There were phantom scars in the earth itself, but the wounds that left those scars didn't exist. They never existed. It was almost like nothing ever happened, like someone turned back the clock to prevent said nothing from ever happening in the first place.

Idiots.

There were rules to those kinds of things. Even you didn’t know them all and you were most likely to die long before you could.

Fucking with time was a delicate practice, and if one wasn't careful, some things would inevitably get left behind. Like a child's chalk that got left between cracks in the sidewalk after an afternoon of play. Little remnants of times forgotten—times abandoned—meals left uneaten on tables, houses built on the graves of people who'd never even existed.

Vans left abandoned on the sides of roads by someone that seemingly never owned a van, and plates that had never been registered with the state of Indiana.

You'd watched the boys play with their little instruments, fuck with powers they didn't understand, and wake something that was meant to be dormant. As the episode ended with them leaving their broken toys behind and your television screen went dark, you felt the call to action.

The need to go and fix what had been disturbed.

The need to pull whatever darkness that bled through the curtain of reality into this world fully.

Just like you’d been pulled through once upon a time.

You’d been chosen for this for a reason.

What would await you this time?

"Alright," you mutter to your master, its presence simmering beneath the frequency of this reality to ensure you didn’t fail. "I'm here. Let's get this over with."

You don't have far to walk before you see the van, but suddenly your surroundings transition from the bright peak of afternoon to the hazy darkness of dusk.

It’s disturbing but these things happen the easiest under cover of night. So you’re grateful for whatever wicked curse hangs over these woods.

The mortal boys on the television arrived to their destination at night, so you'd only seen the vague idea of a van through their green glowing infrared recording, but in person it is much more unsettling.

It sits forgotten amongst a thicket of trees and aside from the places where Ryan and Shane disturbed it, nature has decided the hunkering beast of a vehicle belongs to it. Rust eats away at vulnerable corners, moss and leaves and a thick coating of pollen layer the body, and overgrown roots wind around the wind around the tires, rendering it inert.

A thick branch has pierced the windshield, and as you pace the perimeter of the van, you see it's impaled the drivers seat too.

You're about to reach out to touch it, almost compelled to, when your boot crunches on something.

Your eyes slide in their sockets languidly, down, until they hone in on the object of intrusion.

A radio.

"Spirit box," you whisper into the dead air.

You don't deny yourself the morbid curiosity; that's why you're there, right? To put an end to this so the disturbance is eliminated for good? So no one fucks with it again and makes it worse? You'd have to start in one way or another; it might as well be this way.

The plastic case is cracked from the boys desperate getaway, but as you fiddle with buttons and knobs, the LED screen turns on, and there is a startling crackle of static that shaves a year off your life.

“Shit,” you curse. You’re usually not this jumpy. But there is a heavy anticipation hanging around you.

Another button is pressed and the device begins its rapid-paced oscillation through one radio frequency to the next. You catch faint snippets of commercials and shock jocks and jingles, but nothing discernible.

"Is there anyone there?" you say aloud, parroting what you'd heard on the television, and you waited.

"Hey," comes the warped speech over the din of the channels flipping. You flinch and curse once more. You resolve not to show such weakness again. "Didn't...t'scare...you."

"You didn't scare me." It's true. Just startled. "There are far scarier things out there."

Your master is one of them.

"Monsters…here too.”

“I’m sure,” you mutter. "And where is that?"

No answer.

"Where are you?" you clarify.

"Upside." There's a pause and the spirit box warbles and crackles. "Down."

You think back to the Unsolved episode, the interviews, flashes of images as they explored around Hawkins, the spray painted side of a church: Cult of Kas. Lord of the uʍop ǝpᴉsd∩.

There is a brief triumphant feeling inside of you that you'd found the right spirit, the right moment. This will be over soon. There is a reason your master prefers you over the others.

"Are you Kas?" you continue, fueled by your hubris. "Kas? Do you know who that is?"

There's no answer, and that confidence disappears.

A name. Your master hisses right below your conscious thought. It's in a name.

You feel a sense of brief annoyance thrum through you now, either your master's annoyance with you, or yours with it. It's cloying, and you can feel it permeate from you like a death rattle as you continue your task.

"What's your name?"

There's a beat.

You wait.

It needs to work this time, otherwise you'll--

"Eddie."

Eddie?

"Eddie...Munson."

Just like the supposed owner of the van? The man that Ryan and Shane interviewed before their excursion to this cursed place. Surely not the 50-something tow truck driver that said vans weren’t his thing in the 80’s, that he only ever wanted a motorcycle.

There's an instinctual hitch in your brow as you contemplate the implications of an Eddie Munson here...and an Eddie Munson there.

Then again, you were someone somewhere at some point. Now you were here and you were somewhere else. And the you that you had been and the you that you were now coexisted beautifully.

That was your master's vision after all and, you assume, is the reason you've been led to Hawkins. History repeats itself. Like calls to like.

Suddenly there's a crackling, roaring crash that transcends every oscillating channel. It is the only broadcast now.

"Help, please help me." Eddie's plea is steady and clear. "It's here. It found me."

And you don't hesitate. Because those same words came from your mouth once, before you were saved.

The spirit box is forgotten but still clenched in your hand as you reach out and touch the branch that broke through the windshield, and from there, the cold metal of the van itself.

And you see.

A man and a monster, a rift, a creature. A bat, a bat, and a bite.

You see everything that never happened, happen. Everything done, then undone. You see the rift being created and this remnant—man and van alike—left over in a nether space that tied the two worlds together.

There’s a screech of a guitar over the spirit box now, different than the choppy messages or the fearful pleas that have come through already. It's a broadcast that steadily increases in speed and volume.

A rapid crescendo of fingers pounding on frets and plucking at strings. You can feel an ache in your teeth as if you were gritting yours together, and maybe you are as you try to hold on to an entire world that both existed in its own right and never existed at all.

Hold onto it. Open a door to it.

The van begins to burn.

The cold metal starts to glow--orange and hot like the flame of a candle--beneath your touch and slowly the glow spreads until the entire van is engulfed.

You hold on until you simply no longer can; where your control ends, your master's begins, and your visceral need to save this poor soul now becomes curiosity. What does this Eddie Munson that's about to emerge from the void look like? His name might not have been Kas...but was he a monster?

If he wasn't already, he'd be one soon enough.

The form of the van breaks and embers begin to flake off; the shape of this portal changes from a hulking thing to something much more refined. Legs and arms and wings.

Your heart stops in your chest with anticipation for a moment.

Would you have some glorious nightmare to ferry through a brave new world after all?

But soon the wings seem to burn away leaving nothing but the glowing form of a man and you try to stifle your disappointment.

Nothing fun ever happens to you.

This is the moment, you feel it linger and simmer just beneath the surface of reality. Your master and Eddie coming to a decision together, whether they realize it or not. It is a sight to behold and one you can barely remember when it happened to you, when you were given the choice to accept this fate or die.

You feel your hand instinctually crush the spirit box as the burning glow dissipates, the final connection to this displaced realm severed as a decision is made. As this being finally comes into being once again, as his hands continue to move up and down the strings of a guitar that is no longer strapped to him and would never be ever again.

He falls to his knees once the final bit of fire burn out, and once he realizes that he's alive, he pats his hands down his arms and legs and torso. He lifts his shirt and inspects swaths of skin, fingers scratching at, what you're sure are, phantom wounds.

"You're alright," you tell him and he startles as he notices you. "You're alright."

"What happened?" he asks rapidly. "O-one second I was, and then...Henderson..."

He frantically observes your surroundings, the trees, the leaves. It doesn’t seem like he knows what’s happened to him.

Interesting, you'd never seen that happen before. Even you had been painfully aware of your…departure. Arrival. Whatever it had been.

"Henderson! Dustin!" he yells as he tries to get to his feet, but his body is weak from being stuck in that perpetual time loop--an eternity that he's had to experience in the span of possibly a few minutes--and he falls to his knees again.

You hold your hands out to show that you mean him no harm and you close the distance. He is grateful to accept the help from you as he rests his weary form against yours, but he continues to asks questions.

"Where'd they go? Where are my friends? The bats? Vecna? Where are they? Where am I?"

"You're safe," you assure him. "For now, that's all that matters."

You try to keep him calm, try to answer his questions.

Fuck, but is he chatty though. This is the most you’ve interacted with another living being in a long time, the most you’d spoken in years.

You briefly consider killing him if he doesn't stop with his frantic whining and explanation of a Chrissy and a Hellfire and a Henderson. But then his hand clutches yours and there's a pause to your fragile patience and his frantic worry; there's a warmth that singes the lifelines as your palm rests against his.

No, he belongs here. With you? Possibly. For what, purpose? You cant be sure quite yet. All will be revealed in time.

The disturbance is resolved. But something still lingers, unsolved. Your master looms for reasons unknown, and the anticipation is unsettling.

You feel the shuddering breath shake through his form as he panics, finally feeling the external presence, but you calm him.

You school your face into the gentlest expression you can and he clutches your hand tightly, clinging to the comforting warmth.

"Eddie Munson." You try to smile and his eyes soften. "Welcome to the future."

Tagging @deathbecomesthem because this definitely falls in line with their Estate Sale fic, so if you enjoyed this, please go check that out as well.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie Munson angst #strangerprompts #Stranger things fic

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mosaickiwi · 11 months

Text

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.

#14 days with you #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #14dwy #momo writing #apologies for i am incapable of not making them be gross and silly #but SOFT! what LIGHT through yonder window breaks?#it is the east and [REDACTED] is the sun that shines upon my one braincell #also violet is me hitting enrage on FFXIV savage weeklies before my wifi yeets itself out of existence #also does a cut AFTER a few lines of the fic work or do some ppl prefer being entirely surprised??

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paperultra · 8 months

Text

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!”

—

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#haikyuu #hq #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #i watched ringu for this chapter only for me to barely reference it at all rip. it's rlly good though and not as scary as i thought #shoutout to fanfics for making me try new things #babanuki is old maid #the five nonsenses

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yourlocalmerchgirl · 10 months

Text

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:

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#tommy miller #fanfic #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #soft!joel miller #neurodivergent #joel miller x f!reader

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inkblot-inc · 2 years

Text

Call Me Anything But Human

Summary: There's aways something that lurks in the dark, but often what's scarier is what lies out in the open.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!Reader

Warning(s): 18+ as per usual, so hey MINORS DNI. there's also smut near the end; we got cnc, strap on use (wanda recieving), and edging (R recieving). Dark Themes; R literally eats someone alive, so like blood and gore + cannibalism(?), pretty sure there's language as well, I dunno about you, but that's probably the least of your concerns reading the previous warnings-

Note(s): What’s more self-indulgent than sharing a new universe earlier than planned? Hahaha someone please humor me here, I have so many goddamn WIPS. It's a lil intro for everything else to come as usual. I hope you enjoy :3

Word Count: floating around 2.2k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

You watched from afar as the frail old lady hobbled her way back into her tiny cabin. The closest house was miles away, let alone a market.

You watched a dim light flicker on from inside with a static noise following soon after; she cut the TV on. You licked your chops in anticipation, creeping out from the tree line to make your way closer to the residence.

Silently coming up to the front window, you peer inside to see the older woman settle into a recliner with a steaming bowl of food ready to watch the tube. You don’t know how senile this lady is, but it’s definitely to your advantage that she’s not more aware. Looking around through the window still, you notice a slightly larger window cracked open over what looks like the kitchen sink.

It’s ballsy. A straight shot view from the main room.

Walking around the side of the cabin, you make your way to the kitchen window and slip your hand under the crack to lift the screen up slowly. There’s an audible *clack* when it goes all the way up.

There’s a cough and some shuffling as you stay stock still…

Nothing else happens.

You hoist yourself through the window, landing with a dull thud, The click of your claws on the rickety wood flooring was hardly noticeable. The TV droning on helped cover up a lot of noise no doubt.

From there, there was no real need to be discreet as you surged forward to maul the drowsy elderly woman. You were on her before she could even think to get up. Her half-eaten bowl of chicken and rice tumbled to the floor in a heap as you tore her neck open. Your other clawed hand ripped open the old lady’s stomach exposing its contents as she choked on her own blood. Her attempts to yell or even call for help were useless out here; her eyes were wide and mortified as she was essentially eaten alive. Bones and all.

The old woman’s head was the last to be devoured and you couldn’t even look at it as you shoved it down your gullet.

It helps that you don't know this lady personally at least.

Crunching on a bony hand that was left, you eyed the spilled food that remained lukewarm with the oily sauce trying to stain the unvarnished floorboards.

It could never compare to the full course meal you just had…

The scene had next to no sign of struggle, with all but a small collecting pool of blood and a smattering of torn and bloody clothes on the pleather lazy boy.

Before you could get to tidying up any evidence you could have left behind, your ears pricked up.

Footsteps and a light jangle of keys.

Your eyes widened as you made your way back to the kitchen sink to clean your newly shifted face and neck of blood, along with your hands. Finding a hallway closet, you tore off your crewneck before balling it up and chucking it inside. You were left in a black t-shirt and jeans as everything in the closet was either too small or too identifiable.

You pulled the flashlight from the top shelf along with your phone as you heard the front door open.

Turning around the corner, you call out to the person that's just entered the cabin, flashing the light in their direction. "Westview county sheriff's department! Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Whoa wait! What's going on?" The person was revealed to be a brunette woman, probably in her mid to late 20s.

"I was called to check out a new missing person's case we got at the station. One Agnes Black. The trail led me to discover the scene here. I'm going to need to ask for your name and ID, miss."

You made sure to keep the interest on her for a bit as you tried to get yourself together to form a plan. "Oh! Um, Wanda Maximoff. Agnes is a family friend, she's the only one that's still around. Or she was… I tried to stop in every so often to make sure she's doing okay out here on her own."

You bury your nerves at the situation as you watch the young woman go to scramble through her bag to get her identification. She pulls it out to show you clearest day: 'Wanda Maximoff, twenty seven, NJ driver's license'. Designation: human.

Not a threat.

You look back up at her, " Right, well, this was the scene when I got here. No sign of forced entry, but quite a bit of blood."

Wanda raised a brow, " You came out to an unknown residence, in the middle of the woods miles from town, alone?"

You felt your face burn with embarrassment at her tone.

It did sound stupid as hell.

You cleared your throat, " I'm new. I guess I just… wanted a chance to prove myself I guess." In a sense this was true. You had just landed a job in the sheriff's department, but You didn't care to impress any of your peers in the slightest. You'd rather the woman think you an overzealous idiot, than have her build suspicion.

Wanda looked up slightly to squint at your face before a look of recognition took over her features. " You're Bigby, right? I know I've heard that name mentioned around town. The hot new deputy sheriff that came down from New York -"

Wanda's hand came to cover her mouth a bit too late, " or so I've heard, you know,"

You flash a bit of a pointy smile at the brunette before you scratch the back of your neck. " Well, for the record, Bigby is my uncle, my name is Y/n." If only he could see his "Lil Bean" now…

Wanda's answering smile with sheepish, but there was a subtle shift in her green eyes that you couldn't exactly place. " I wonder if he'd be proud or disappointed to see you follow in your family's footsteps."

You gave a brief laugh through your nose, taken a bit of back before Wanda spoke up again. " At least he never shat where he ate though, right?"

"What?-"

All you saw was a red mist passed over your eyes before you were knocked out cold, Wanda standing over your unconscious body.

—-------------

Waking up, you found yourself in what you could only assume was a basement or some other underground room. The cement floor and persistent draft lending to this as well. While trying to move around, you found your hands and feet bound together with chains. Your attempts to break free with your supernatural strength proved to be pointless against whatever this metal was.

The sound of a door creaking open had you halting all movement. " I still have to get things insulated down here, but my guess is that it's not even cold enough for you to feel little more than a breeze right now."

You can only stare straight ahead as you heard the subtle clop of footsteps coming down cobbled stairs from behind you. Wanda came around to stand in front of you with a subtle smirk and a tilt of her head.

Her diffident posture was long gone.

" Well, Natasha wasn't lying. You are pretty cute." Wanda firmly grasped your chin between her thumb and four finger as she moved your head this way and that. " Human meat must work wonders for a mutt's skin."

To be quite frank: you were terrified. All creatures that brought undue terrors or committed crimes onto others, especially if it involved the harm of humans, were promptly and harshly dealt with. The most efficient way being torture for intentions before death. Government authorities often worked hand in hand with the Purifiers in that way.

Wanda briefly rolled her eyes as she sensed your heart rate spike, most likely from fear. " I'm not with the human puritans, if that's your worry, Wolfie. More like an interested third party."

You took a small breath of relief as you could cross the worst case scenario off of your list of possibilities. " Then- what do you want with me? Did you even know that lady?-"

" You mean your dinner? Yes, but Agatha has served her purpose. She owed it to me after all," You turned slightly as Wanda went on. "And I want you, officer, to be my inside person while I conduct my dealings."

Your eyes narrowed at her assured voice, " and I would just agree to that right? Be for real, woman."

Wanda’s smirk simply stayed in place. " Well, I could just drop off all the photographic evidence I have of you scouting and devouring your last four victims, all of whom are on the missing persons listings." Plenty of photos fluttered to the ground, fanned out for you to see yourself at your most vulnerable. Wanda tutted her tongue almost mockingly, " such a sloppy puppy, they'd have a field day with you I'm sure."

Your eyes were frozen on the high-definition pictures of you hastily leaving a woman's penthouse, clothes still bloody; one of the few cases that you've filed after spending the night with them. Gwen-something. Jesus, wasn't this in New York? Her father was still looking for her when you moved away...

You vaguely knew that Wanda was still speaking. " And, if that's not enough, you ingested Agatha's whole body. One of my own reanimated corpses bound with a fealty clause. One could assume it had passed on to you. I'd hate for you to have to find out what happens when that clause is broken firsthand." Your mouth could only open and close like a fish as you thought through the whole thing.

You don't have an option. You really don't.

Wanda sauntered closer to your restrained form as her fingers ran across your shoulders. She leaned over till her lips we next to your ear. "Way to be thorough, huh, Y/n?" Her hands lightly smoothed down your arm.

You tried to keep your face as stoic as you could. "Fine. What do you want me to do?" Wanda patted the your cheek rough enough for it to be considered patronizing instead of soothing. "We'll hash that out in time, don't you worry your fuzzy little head about it."

"But details, details…" Wanda's voice trailed off as she proceeded to straddle your waist, your breath caught. " You must be relieved to finally have some familiarity, huh?" As Wanda continues to shift on top of you to make yourself comfortable, you feel an odd amount of pressure that causes you to gasp.

Wanda's mouth lifts into a sly smirk, " there we are. This will end different then you're used to, I'm certain. There is one other thing you'll have to get acquainted with." One of Wanda's hands runs down your shirt over your stomach before lifting up the hem halfway for you to see.

A new wave of panicked confusion would have had you jolting around again if Wanda wasn't holding you steady.

From your pelvis and spreading outward, we're visible black and dimly glowing veins under your skin. Staring hard enough, you could see them pulse occasionally before the anomaly seemed to fade into your skin.

And it was all connected to the strap on between your legs.

Still struggling to comprehend, you just about lost your ever-loving mind when Wanda gripped it in her hand.

You could feel it.

The new feeling of sensitivity you basically had you like putting in Wanda's hands. "Hah- how…" You catch Wanda's eyes glow again, and it was almost impossible to string two thoughts together with the constant pump of her hand.

" It's more than you probably deserve, but I'm going to enjoy bringing you to your knees this way." You whine involuntarily as Wanda takes her hand off to untie her robe.

Wanda's breasts were now exposed, nipples hard with a rise of goose flesh being out in the cool air. She lifts herself up and lines your cock up at her entrance, and you watch as she fully sinks herself down on it, and she doesn't move. For a good minute. The haziness goes away as you fully connect with Wanda. The pleasure you feel is immediate and you feel a familiar tightening sensation in your stomach.

Wanda leans forward, her mouth latching onto the side of your neck. God, she felt so full. Her hands come to rest over your shoulders before her nails dig in. She feels the muscles there a bunch up a bit before slowly relaxing. The moment Wanda starts moving, she gets a low grunt from you as the toy slides in and out of her pussy. Every stroke, every flutter from inside does something to you, and it's the most tantalizing thing for Wanda to watch and feel.

Your hands keep trying to break through their bonds as you feel your high coming up. You can't help but whimper from under the brunette as she keeps abruptly stopping right at the edge. " Please," Wanda's watched you struggle this whole time, but she all but stops writing you and she's plays coy. "Hmm? What do you want now, baby?" Her rhythm is slower, teasing.

"I'm so fuckin close, can I please just cum?" Your hands clench open and closed behind you in desperation.

Wanda hums before she purses her lips, making her look far more innocent than her actions would dictate. " I don't know, I still feel like you haven't learned your place, honey. You might even use those claws for something you shouldn't…"

"I-" she can see your cheeks bloom with a blush at the situation You found yourself in. You were supposed to be angry, fight back, hold your ground even! But Wanda held all the cards and you knew it. You both knew.

And it didn't take her much to get here.

" Please, Wanda. I just wanna make you feel good, I just wanna cum!- I... I won't try anything. Just please…"

Wanda, continue to look down at you before her smirk returns. " You say please really pretty, puppy…"

You sounded pitiful to yourself. Practically groveling to fuck Wanda properly and cum, but at this point? Pride be damned. The red was all consuming.

But there are worse things to give in to.

#marvel #marvel one shots #call me anything but human #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #succuwitch!wanda #werewolf!reader #succuwitch!wanda x werewolf!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

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sketchiefoxie · 1 month

Text

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

#rottmnt #rottmnt horror #Deja vu #deja vu au #rottmnt april #choose the outcome

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dc418writes · 2 years

Text

Before It’s Too Late

✨Pairing: Andy Barberxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Andy gets a special visitor to help remind him what’s important

⚠️: a good amount of angst in this one, allusion to divorce, couple bad language words, ends in fluff tho (bcus I’m soft and it’s the holidays☺️)

A/N🎙️: hey guys! Hope you like this idea I had based on a Christmas Carol. Also this is an au where Laurie and Jacob don’t exist

*Disclaimer!: although collage was made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found on Pinterest

Looking down at his watch, the ticking face reads 11:01 pm as Andy locks the door behind him and the security system later beeps from its activation. The bottoms of his dress shoes tap along the wooden floor stepping further into the dimly lit home unsurprised to find it quiet and seemingly empty.

It’s a greeting he’d grown accustomed to these last few months having worked constant late nights that sometimes ran into early mornings.

“Left a plate for you in the fridge if you’re hungry. Hope you had a good day ~Love, Y/N” The note read resting in front of his usual seat at the head of the table; sending a pang of guilt to his heart. If he had a choice of course he’d want to be home with his family being able to eat and laugh together.

But as the District Attorney, his work was never really done until the case was closed, which could take months to years. Plus this job made it possible to provide for his family, the most important thing to him.

Slowly climbing the stairs to avoid its loud creaks, he first stops at his daughter’s door gently pushing it open to check on her as he always did when arriving home late. Finding her bed made and untouched only means she’s next to you in their bedroom; more than likely on his side to “protect” you from any monsters hiding in the closet or under the bed.

“Daddy don’t worry, I watch over mama,” Marlow would state confidently whenever he’d call saying how he wouldn’t be home until late that night. Each time his lips would curl into a soft smile at how thoughtful she was already before thanking her for taking such good care of you.

The light from the tv flickers along the room with the screen still playing some animated movie. Both you and Marlow fast asleep as you snuggled close with arms wrapped around each other. Her little Starry Night flashlight on the bedside table making him quietly chuckle as he steps closer to place a kiss on her curly head then yours.

“You’re home,” you tiredly whisper beginning to stir with barely open lids.

“Yea, I see you two had a sleepover.”

You turn to gaze at your baby with a sleepy giggle, “She tried waiting up for you, but didn’t make it 30 minutes. Let me put her to bed-,”

“No you two stay. I still have work to do.”

“Andy it’s nearly-,” you carefully shift to look at your phone, “one in the morning and you’re still doing work? Just save it for later and come to bed.”

“Honey this is a big case. The more I work the sooner we’ll get done.”

That was a lie. If that did happen, you knew he’d only find something else that needed to be done. Or more evidence would somehow be found that either added to, or discredited, his argument thus leading to more work.

“Andy, you’ve been working on this case non-stop for over a year. If that really were the case, I’m sure you’d be done by now,” you sigh.

“Y/N-,”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Unless you leave before we get up. Again.” He doesn’t get the chance to say anything more as you turn your back to him; choosing instead to face your still baby girl peacefully resting all this time.

Sighing, he places a final kiss to the back of your head with a quiet, “Goodnight,” before he’s quietly leaving again to return downstairs to his office. And you’re left alone for yet another night, silently crying yourself to sleep worried about the future for you and your husband.

With a low groan, Andy lifts his head from the desk combing his fingers through his unruly hair. A yawn slipping past his lips as he tries to stretch the kinks and cramps from his back. He had every intention of coming to bed, but he’d found a hole in the plaintiff’s argument that’d surely help them come one step closer to a possible close.

That hot streak led to three more hours of typing before he finally crashed while reading over his work. Uncomfortably so as he rubs at the knot sitting at the base of his neck.

There’s a giggle outside his door followed by little Marlow popping her head of wild curls in with a wide smile on her lips. The room brightening with her cheery entrance as usual. “Hi daddy!”

“Morning busy bee,” he smiles opening his arms so she’d join him in his chair. Her small arms linking around his neck to kiss his cheek as he holds her close. “Good job looking after everything last night.”

“Monsters stayed away. I had my flashlight.”

“Morning Andy,” you softly smile entering with his favorite mug. “Marlie made you coffee.”

“Thank you sweetheart. Daddy really needed this after the night he had.”

“Later, we make cookies for my play. Right daddy?”

“Wait, tonight? I thought that was this weekend?”

“Nope, tonight. I reminded you yesterday on your lunch,” you sigh sitting on the edge of his desk with arms crossed in front of you. You already knew where this conversation was going from the remorse in his cerulean eyes.

“Sweetheart I’m so sorry, but I’m not gonna be able to make it. I’ll be downtown.”

“But…you promised.”

“I know I did-,”

“You never break promises daddy!,” she pouts with big brown eyes glossy from incoming tears.

“Well sometimes-,”

“You lied!”

“Marlow enough, alright?! I have to work, there’s nothing I can do to change that. Mama will be there to record it and I’ll watch it with you later,” he sternly replies further upsetting the five-year-old. She quickly wiggles out of his grasp and down to the floor now reaching out for you and your comfort.

“Y/N don’t. I’m not in the mood for I told you so.”

“You can’t even give us one day Andy? One?!” For the sake of your daughter, you try to keep your voice calm when everything in you was currently ready to erupt.

“Whadaya want me to do honey, hm? Quit?,” he asks tossing aside some folder filled with papers. “Fine. I’ll quit and everything I’ve worked for; this house, our comfortable life where neither of you want for anything, that’ll disappear too.”

“We want you! Your daughter wants her father as more than a glimpse she’s lucky to see everyday, and I want my husband back.” Frustrated tears burn your eyes before rolling down your cheeks as you gently rock your daughter hiding her face in your neck. “If all we really cared about was the material stuff, we wouldn’t be having this conversation for the millionth time.”

Guilt eats away at him once more silently watching the both of you leave his office. He desperately missed his girls too. Coming home to his energetic baby girl excited to tell him about her day or play dress up. Your vanilla and caramel scent latching to his nostrils anytime he’d steal a kiss from your soft lips. Lying next to you with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if you’d easily vanish if he let go.

But this job required a lot of his time. It was something he and you knew from the beginning, even when he was still just a practicing lawyer in that small law firm. What could he really do about it?

“Honey,” he calls rising from his chair to follow your trail. “Honey wai-,”

Stepping in the hall, the once warm and furnished home is now dark and somber. The walls bare of the framed pictures you’d taken over the years and air cool from the draft circulating through the empty abode. His thick brows furrow as he hurries through the house once his, opening all doors in a frenzy trying to find his family. “Y/N?! Marlie?!”

“They’re gone Andrew,” a voice booms from overhead causing the attorney to twist about while looking towards the ceiling.

“W-Who said that? Where’s my family?!”

“Relax they’re fine. Honestly much better now you’re not there.”

“I’m only givin’ you one more chance. Show yourself and bring my girls back now!”

“Well, I can’t really do either of those seeing as I’m a ghost and need to teach you a lesson before I send you back.”

“A ghost..,” Andy repeats full of amusement with hands on his hips. “Mhm right. Marlow Anais Barber no more games alright? You got me, now come out with mama.”

“Andy I’m telling you, they’re not here. You’re about to lose your family and I’m here to help.”

“How when I can’t even see you? And what are you? My guardian angel or something?”

“No, and with that attitude I’m glad I’m not,” the voice replies making him glare at the ceiling. “They’re only called for life or death situations. I’m just your standard spirit guide.”

“This is clearly a stress dream,” he mumbles to himself beginning to pace the floor. “I haven’t slept well for pretty much the whole year and now it’s getting to me. Yea that’s it.”

“Alright I see you’re just set on being difficult, so let’s begin.” Mouth set with his reply, the words immediately escape him being whisked through what felt like a tornado. Wind taking his breath as he tried to scream until his feet were back on the ground.

“What..t-the hell..was that?!,” he asks clutching his chest trying to regain his normal breathing and heart rate.

“Us traveling through time. Now hush and pay attention.” It finally registers that he’s outside his home partially decorated with Christmas lights and figurines. The ladder securely placed against the house as past him stapled the string of lights just above the gutters.

“This was years ago. Our first time decorating the house,” Andy softly smiles watching his former self carefully climb the ladder to stand on the roof instead. “Y/N said I was overdoing it, but I wanted everything to be perfect for-,”

“Let’s go check on daddy yea?,” he hears past you say to a then one-year-old Marlow tightly bundled in your arms as you walk out the front door. “Andrew Stephen Barber? Please tell me you’re still alive.”

“I am honey,” he chuckles pausing to look down at you. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“Accidents happen. Did you know the holidays are the busiest time of year for hospitals?”

“I did not.”

“Well they are. So please be careful and refrain from making me a widowed, single mother anytime soon.”

“I promise you I’ll make it back inside, just like I promised my busy bee she’d have her own, personal Christmas Wonderland. Yes I did,” he coos down at the giggling, wide eyed little girl. “And daddy always keeps his promises.”

“Aww,” the spirit states from overhead. “What happened to you Andrew?”

“What do you mean? I’m still that guy.”

“Rigghhtt. And who was on the roof this year? And last year?”

“Alright, I’ve been busy,” he admits scratching the back of his neck. “This is a huge case that’s taken longer than expected so I haven’t had time like back then. That Christmas was during a…kinda dead period. Before my DA campaign. Then my ultimate acceptance. Things won’t always be like they are now though.”

“Yea, long as you get your priorities straight.”

He scoffs, “My priorities are straight.”

The winds of the tornado gather and build again, causing Andy to tense and brace for how his body would be tossed from here to there. It’s much smoother this time though, and he feels like he’s simply floating in the clouds before being gently placed on a carpeted floor.

“Hey, I uh think I’m getting used to-wait…could you have done that the first time?!”

“…you really need to relax before you give yourself an aneurysm Andrew.”

Rolling his eyes, he turns recognizing some pieces of furniture in the condo. His infamous chair he’s had since before he was married. That floor lamp he bought thinking it added sophistication to his place, but really didn’t look right with anything he had.

This wasn’t his old apartment though. He could tell from the pictures of Marlow on the bookcase and the impressive flatscreen mounted on his wall.

“Where are we?”

“The future. Since your priorities are so straight.”

A knock on the front door nearly has him moving to answer, if not for the startling shout of “coming!,” from the older man making his way down the hall.

Disheveled gray hair on his head and throughout his beard, he had to be in his mid to late 50s. Maybe early 60s even. He looked good for his age though, still able to move around well with arms and legs that still showed some of the strength from his youth. But the energy around him conveyed sadness. Flickers of loneliness and pain in the dull neutrals and silence throughout the modern residence.

“It..it’s me,” he whispers in shock sitting in the nearby barstool as he watches his older self finally open the door with you waiting on the other side. You still looked the same, just as beautiful as the day you first met and seeming to have only aged a couple years compared to him. Your eyes weren’t as bright though. No longer filled with that happiness usually there whenever you’d look at him.

“Andy,” you politely nod. “I um honestly didn’t expect you to be home.”

“Thought I’d take Christmas off for once.”

“I’ve been working Christmas all those years?,” he wonders to himself.

“Maybe even spend some time with busy bee,” he lightly chortles ushering you in before locking the door.

“She’s actually staying with her friends in LA this year. Last time we talked, she mentioned possibly making it for New Years, but knowing her she’ll probably just hang out there. Get some more work done with her internship.”

“Oh..r-right. Good for her,” he painfully smiles moving towards the kitchen.

“Plus you know holidays haven’t really been her thing since we-,”

“Yea I know. Not like I made things any better after either, always missing pick ups or our scheduled days together.”

“Yep..A1 priorities.” The spirit’s sarcastic tone doesn’t phase Andy, being more focused on the conversation in front of him.

“What’s that?,” he asks taking a break from making his PB&J to point the butterknife towards the bag in your hands.

“Oh, your Christmas present from me, Marlow, and Curtis.”

“Curtis? Who’s Curtis?”

“Dreamy blue eyes. Body of an Adonis. Bit rough around the edges but so incredibly sweet and caring-,”

“That’s not answering my question alleged spirit guide.”

“How’s he doing? Well both of you..y-you guys I mean,” he stutters going back to his sandwich.

“Good. He surprised me with a fire pit in the backyard and tickets to Fiji,” you softly smile.

“Hm,” he nods thoughtfully taking a bite.

“She always talked about wanting a fire pit in the back. Right off to the side far enough back that Marlie would have enough room to play without the risk of her getting hurt.”

“If only you were the one to get it for her,” the spirit tsk’s.

“Sure those tickets are to Fiji and not Fuji?”

“Andy don’t.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” he replies briefly holding up his hands. “Didn’t know a handyman’s salary allowed for exotic trips.”

“It does when he has his own business, and has had said business for a few years now. I swear it’s like you’re always trying to find something on him.”

“Because I barely know him! One minute it’s just you and Marlow, next thing I know you’re getting married and he’s moving in!”

“I tried to get you to meet him multiple times! But it was always the same, ‘I’m working.’ ‘Can’t I’m in a meeting.’ ‘Out of town with a witness.’ You just never wanted to meet him and, don’t pretend like it’s anything else.”

“Excuse me for not trusting some random guy to play father with my child!”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have to if you stepped up!,” you shout surely loud enough his neighbors would hear.

Andy himself felt that hit to his gut. Or maybe it was some joint reaction between him and his future self.

Sighing, you quickly wipe under your eyes catching any tears before they had a chance to fall. “Andy I didn’t come here to argue. It’s the holidays and-,”

“No I’m sorry. You’re right..I was a shit husband and turned into a shit father who only thought about the next case,” he humorlessly chuckles. “No wonder Marlow buries herself in work. Seems to not want anything to do with her family. She learned from her old man.”

“Why are you showing me this?,” Andy asks with a quick sniff; wiping away his own set of tears. He didn’t know when he started crying, but it seemed as if they’d never stop falling. “I’d never do that to them.”

“You’re already doing it Andrew. The late nights at the office and broken promises. If you continue down that path, this is your future.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Good, then fix it.”

Opening his eyes, he’s surrounded by the darkness of his home office making him breathe a sigh of relief as he sits upright on his couch. Your voice instructing Marlow to be careful when removing the cookies only causes his smile to widen, nearly slipping as he rushes towards the kitchen to see his favorite girls.

“Daddy!,” Marlow waves with her free hand. Her giggles and shrieks filling the two-story home as he picks her up to cover her face in kisses. “Beard tickles daddy!”

“I thought you were at work? You’ve been in the office this whole time?”

His only answer is to press his lips to yours with all the passion and love he’s neglected from you. Gently nipping at your bottom lip before going in for round two, you have to clutch his shirt to keep from buckling.

Marlow silently giggles occasionally peeking through her fingers covering her eyes.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sniffs pressing his forehead to yours. “For putting my job before our family. For treating both of you the way I did. I swear I’ll be better just please don’t give up on me.”

“I appreciate that Andy, but are you okay? You sound kinda mad baby.” His eyes sparkling and skin having a joyous glow, you hadn’t seen your husband like this in a long while.

“I’m good honey. So good,” he smiles pecking your lips once more. “And I’m home the rest of the month. No more case or late nights, it’s only you two.”

“You’re coming to the play daddy?!,” his daughter excitedly bounces in his arm.

“Yep! And tomorrow we gotta go pick out mama’s Christmas present,” he winks at you.

“Andy wait, can you do that? I mean of course we want you home, but-,”

“I’ll email Phillips and the rest of the team to let them know I need a break. They’ll be fine, plus the interns are there.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then tough. It’s almost Christmas and I need to be with my family.”

You can only lovingly gaze at Andy as he talks more to Marlow about what all they can do during his break. The little girl growing more excited with every idea he suggests and you silently thankful for your Christmas miracle.

“What’s got you like this?,” you ask tightening your hold around his waist. Your chin propped on his firm chest with a giddy smile on your lips.

“A very needed wake up call,” he smiles pecking your nose before moving to the top of his baby girl’s head.

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#andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x woc!reader #andy barber #andy barber au #defending jacob #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

207 notes · View notes

boygiwrites · 1 year

Text

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! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon #daddy issues #daryl dixon fanfiction #angst #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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msdarkwoodsworld · 1 month

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Horror Story Shorts

Some more easily digestible horror story shorts.

Story 1: The Ouija Board

"Are you seriously gonna bring that thing out?" Claire asked, looking apprehensively at the Ouija board Emily placed on the table.

"Why not?" Emily shrugged. "It's just a game."

Jake, always the skeptic, laughed. "You guys actually believe in this stuff?"

Emily put her fingers on the planchette, followed by Claire despite her hesitation. Jake rolled his eyes and joined in last.

"Is anyone there?" Emily asked, her voice barely a whisper.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the planchette moved. Claire gasped. "That wasn't me!"

"Me neither," Jake muttered, suddenly not so skeptical.

"Who are you?" Emily asked.

The planchette spelled out: D-A-R-K.

"That's not creepy at all," Jake tried to joke, but his voice quivered.

"What's your intention?" Claire asked, the words sticking in her throat.

The planchette moved quickly: K-I-L-L.

"No way. Someone's messing with us!" Jake yelled and pulled his hands back, but the planchette continued moving on its own.

"RUN," it spelled out before Jake flipped the board.

The lights flickered, and a chilling wind blew through the room. The door slammed shut.

"We need to get out of here!" Emily screamed, and they bolted towards the door. It wouldn't open.

A sinister laugh filled the room, echoing from the shadows. "You invited me," a voice whispered. "Now you're mine."

Story 2: Under Her Skin

Linh had always dealt with mild skin irritations, but this was different. It started as a small, itchy bump on her arm.

"It's nothing," she told herself, trying to ignore the odd sensation. But over the days, the bump grew, spreading into patches that pulsated with an eerie rhythm.

Visiting the doctor, she explained, "I feel like something is moving under my skin."

The doctor merely prescribed a topical cream. "Come back if it doesn't improve."

A week later, Linh couldn't take it anymore. The itching turned into sharp, biting pain. Her skin bulged and writhed as if there were creatures trapped inside, trying to escape.

In a desperate move, she grabbed a pair of tweezers and made a small cut. As soon as the skin broke, a thin, black tendril wiggled out, followed by another. Horrified, she watched as dozens of tiny, dark creatures emerged, squirming across her skin.

She screamed, trying to brush them off, but they burrowed back in, disappearing beneath the surface.

"Help!" she cried into the phone, calling her friend Leah. "Something's inside me! Please hurry!"

By the time Leah arrived, the room was eerily silent. She found Linh sitting on the floor, eyes glazed over, skin smooth and clean.

"Linh?" Leah called softly.

Linh turned to look at her, a calm, unnerving smile spreading across her face. "They're inside all of us now."

Story 3: The Waxworks Museum

Dan had only taken the job as a night security guard at the old waxworks museum to make some extra cash. His rounds were typically uneventful, just dusty figures and silent halls.

One night, as he walked past the wax figures, he heard a faint whisper. He turned, shining his flashlight around. Nothing but still faces and lifeless eyes.

"Imagination," he muttered, continuing his rounds.

Near midnight, he heard it again—this time more distinct. "Help me..."

He followed the sound to a figure whose eyes seemed almost too lifelike. Frowning, he leaned in closer.

"Did you say something?" he asked, half-joking.

The wax figure's mouth moved. "Set us free," it whispered.

Dan stumbled back, heart racing. He pulled out his phone to call his supervisor but found the screen covered in a sticky, waxy substance.

Panicking, he turned to leave. The figures now seemed to shift in the dark, their eyes following him. One by one, they began to step off their pedestals, their movements stiff but purposeful.

"Don't leave," a female figure said, her hand reaching out and gripping Dan's arm with surprising strength.

"You're one of us now," another figure added, its fingers digging into his shoulders.

Dan tried to scream, but the wax figures covered his mouth. The last thing he saw was the lifelike glint in their eyes as the wax began to engulf him, turning his flesh into their own.

By morning, a new figure stood in the museum—a wide-eyed man in a security uniform, terror forever etched into his waxen face.

#ouiji board #horror story #paranormal #ghosts #creepy #urban legend #supernatural #thriller #spooky vibes #haunted #body horror #psychological horror #skin crawling #disturbing #hp lovecraft #wax museum #night shift #errie atmosphere #museum of horrors

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southerndragontamer · 11 months

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Happy Halloween 2: Tricks and Treats

Halloween was known for being the time of year for costumes, for pranks and candy, for scary stories and for those who practiced magic to find a zenith of power from the veil between worlds being at its thinnest.

Of course for you, this meant you were at home for the night, porch lit for trick or treaters with a big bowl of candy and baked goods nearby and while you waited for anyone to show up you were watching scary videos. More specifically you were watching Mark’s and Jack’s older Darkiplier and Antisepticeye videos. What could you say, you loved the pair of dark sides and their stories even if Dark’s was more fleshed out at the moment, Anti’s was catching up with the lore from Anomaly.

As you switched from Raspy Hill to the start of Sister Location, you shivered as it suddenly felt like it got colder, as you heard the hum of your lights increase. You pulled the blankets more around yourself in response and tried to tell yourself you were being silly, you’d done this before and there hadn’t been anything like this. It was just the excitement of the holiday getting to you.

But for a split second you could’ve sworn there was an extra giggle in the video from the glitch.

When you switched again, this time to Dark’s part in ADWM, there was definitely an electronic almost static hiss and the lights dimmed a bit more than usual…you felt chills down your spine. You could’ve sworn for a second there was a smugness to Dark’s smile when he appeared. You had the urge to go check the breaker and out of worry for the wiring, you paused things and did so. Your flashlight scanned over the breaker box, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and when you touched any outlets they were room temperature so you didn’t think anything was in danger of catching fire, which relieved you as you went back to the living room.

You blinked, the video you’d had your phone on had changed to the PAX video for Anti. You hadn’t changed it before you left, had you? You must’ve though there wasn’t any other way for it to have switched, you shook your head and told yourself you were getting caught up again. But while it was there you clicked play.

When Anti said that you’d found someone to replace him, there was this sneer to his face that hadn’t been there last time…he spoke with more of a snarl. You swallowed down the instinctive rebuttal as there wasn’t any way for him to hear you anyway and this was an old video it shouldn’t be changing…Then Anti suddenly laughed, a feral grin stretched across his face and you felt your stomach drop as his voice whispered in your headphones.

“Are ye so sure o’ tha’ puppet~?”

You threw your headphones off, paling as the realization that you were in the middle of something you really should not be and yelped as a clawed hand broke through the screen of your phone like it was little more than water. You threw your phone as the lights flickered and started to flare green and then red like an alarm.

Anti glitched his way out of your device in a way that looked painful considering how small the screen was, his form flickered between the more animalistic and more calm fury he’d shown recently, scar dripped with almost black blood as his eyes either green eyeshine or a manic green and blue or black, locked onto you.

You bolted and he cackled, the sound piercing and made your head ache to the point you almost collapsed, you were half blind in panic as you ran through your own home to try to get to the backdoor. It felt strange all of a sudden, the wood creaked and groaned and seemed to warp under your feet, the static and white noise was right behind you. Lights popped and glass shattered from the overload of power that was forced through them with a near hungry hissing growl.

“Ye can run but ye can’t hide from me puppet~”

You felt your lungs begin to burn, your blood roared in your ears and you couldn’t speak from the terror that constricted your throat, the static felt like it was right at your back. Anti was closing in on you, you had to get away you didn’t want to be caught, you sprinted and leapt for the doorway.

The ground suddenly fell away underneath your feet as if it had never been there, a furious, brain scrambling sound that was almost a roar almost made your ears bleed as clawed hands swiped against the ends of your hair in an attempt to grab you as you fell into cold black that surrounded your home.

The air was stolen out of your lungs, you didn’t have any time to scream as wind whipped around you and you subconsciously flailed blindly in an attempt to try to catch yourself. But of course in the void there was nothing to grab onto, instead a hand clamped around your wrist and almost wrenched your shoulder out of its socket. Your head snapped up, wide eyed as you began to pant now that you weren’t in an endless free-fall into oblivion…to meet Dark’s gaze.

The shadow smirked at you as he lifted you to the patch of land that appeared underneath him. It looked like glass…or maybe a frozen lake, it shined like a black mirror…and let you go. You panted hard, trembling as your body tried to leave the adrenaline fueled survival state you’d just been in. There was a soft tsk, and your chin was being tilted up just so to make eye contact with Dark as he softly rumbled.

“You poor thing, so terrified…Anti’s always been a brute on these nights. You’re fortunate that you weren’t solely in his camp hmm darling?”

You shivered softly and swallowed, you didn’t really know how to react to any of this even as on reflex your cheeks tinted with heat. You felt calmer now, the last of the panic left you as he talked like a hypnotic charm. Dark stroked your chin just once before he stepped back, his touch lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and stood up as you refound your wits, about to answer him when there was a cascade of static and green flared into black as Anti manifested on the other side and prowled over to reach Dark.

“Oh no ye don’t ye icy bastard! They’re mine!”

Dark chuckled and smirked, hands behind his back in his usual position as he responded back with a twitch of his lip.

“Your name isn’t on them Anti, and they quite literally fell into my hands. Am I supposed to just ignore that?”

Anti bared his teeth in a feral manner, crackling with energy as his body flickered and glitched and you couldn’t really look at him for long or your eyes almost crossed.

“Fockin yes! Ye know what my strings feel like and they’re covered in em!”

You looked down at yourself confused and partly in shock and concern and gasped a little as you saw green strings coiled around your wrists and body, you felt them tight around your throat like a choker. Dark’s scoff made you look up to the arguing Egos.

“And you know what my shadows feel like, and they’re also covered in them.”

Your eyes widened more as you saw them as well now, wispy smoke-like shadows curled around your body just like Anti’s strings, the two forces were mixed around, the static sparked against the frost that the shadows created. Clearly, neither of them liked ti share, which was proven when Dark sighed and let out a growl at the same time.

“It appears we’re at an impasse, they’re equally claimed.”

Anti didn’t speak in words but the visceral sound of fury he made in response made you clamp your hands over your ears to try to stop the pain that erupted in your mind. Your vision swam in and out of focus after it stopped and you whimpered a little, unsure if it was the aftermath of whatever pulse had been through your body or if it was the fact that you were in the Void but Dark and Anti didn’t..look normal.

Anti was a mess of static, glitches, multiple eyes of different shades of green, black or blue even brown, and too long limbs with knife like claws, too wide grin with too many teeth, for a few moments his neck looked like a second maw, as his body contorted and twisted you felt nauseated.

Dark was almost the same shade as the abyss around you all, outlined in red and blue that was cracked and fractured and held together like broken glass, three pairs of eyes, one blue, one red, one outlined in a faint silver, his body looked too big, too much in the space and you felt squished.

You couldn’t really…focus, it felt like too much for your human mind, the next second the two of them flickered back to ‘normal’ human bodies again. Masks back in place. They looked at you, then each other and then they both smirked.

“Looks like you have to make a choice darling.”

“We do not share puppet, yer lucky I’m even entertainin t’is shite”

You looked between them and your heart sank slowly in your chest and you swallowed hard. You didn’t know who you should pick…what would happen if you made the wrong choice…but you had to. The clock was ticking, unless time didn’t exist here? Time was broken for the both of them after all.

There was a soft hum and it was both of static and shadow as they waited for you to speak up, to make a choice between them. Between Dark’s cold nature that spoke of blunt truth, that you’d be treated like a bird in a gilded cage who would hardly notice when something happened. Or Anti’s unpredictable nature that was hard to tell whether he lied or told the truth, that you’d be treated like a plaything who would need to pay attention.

This was a twisted Trick or Treat….and you had no way to know which would be which until you picked it.

#Darkiplier #Man with No Shadow #Markiplier Ego #Markiplier Fandom #Antisepticeye #Glitch Demon #Jacksepticeye Ego #Jacksepticeye Fandom #Fanfic #South Writes #I literally had a burst of inspiration this morning that led me to write this #So you guys get two fics today!#Over 13

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