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mushroomkwan · 1 year

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to lie under [m]

sequel to rite of sin

SYN: You've become adjusted to the life of a concubus, fucking and eating the essence of the living until you've had your fill. Life proceeds as such, until you find yourself summoned, like Donghyuck had been, to the service of a human.

TAGS/WARNINGS: I did way more research and story building here so it has some facts that were different in rite of sin, demonic activity, demonic imagery, biting and bleeding, incubi, succubi, concubi, m/m/f threesome, anal fingering and ass eating (m receiving), oral (f and m receiving), squirting, unprotected sex (f receiving and m receiving), anal penetration and sex (m receiving), hickeys, polyamory, markxdonghyuck (I don't ship them together, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION)

word count: 4.4k

A loud wail escapes into the room around you, and you'd have half a mind to slap your hands over your ears and drown it out, if it wasn't feeding you with such a delicious feeling. This woman keens under you, this poor human who found herself victim to your charms, and she cums like a tornado siren, sudden and almost alarming. You take in her essence, every drop she spills, and lick your fingers clean, standing from the bed and stretching your wings behind you.

"Wait, don't go! We....we could keep going." She pleas when she sees your wings spreading, and you feel pity towards her. She's weakened, clutching her chest and taking heavy breaths and yet she still yearns for the pleasure you'd just given her.

Poor baby.

"Shhh, rest now. I've gotten all I need from you. Now, forget this." You use your honed ability of manipulation to wipe her memory of the event, feeling indifferent when you watch her eyes close and her body fall back limply. You look back at the wings she so adored, and smirk to yourself. When you'd first woken in hell as a Concubus, a versatile sex demon, they were the first thing you noticed before the colour of your skin, the tail, eyes and fangs, all of it. You'd grown wings, bat-like that stretched behind you, it was amazing. Now they were just your mode of transport, and your sexiest physical trait.

"I would argue your sexiest trait is your eyes, but that would be too romantic."

Turning around, you see your husband, leaning against the bedpost in such a way your desire is lit up once again, curling your tail around his thigh as you come closer to him.

"Too romantic? For me? Donghyuck, you know I live for romance. I died for it." You give him a hungry kiss, dragging your tongue and fangs against the skin of his jaw and neck, and he pulls at the back of your hair, eliciting a whine from you.

"Ah ah ah, you've already fucked this woman silly, I'm not going to be your sloppy seconds. At least…I'm not going to be here." He teases you and you feel your skin heat under his gaze. It always went like this, and you loved it. You fucked and from the humans, but with Donghyuck you made love. You made love so passionate you'd think you'd travelled to heaven every time. He was your eternal flame, your bond transcended time. It took almost a decade of earning your wings to get to this point, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

"A human has summons for you, Concubus Y/D/N. And for you as well, Incubus Azonach." Hearing Lubell the Imp's voice you turn to see him flapping his pathetic little wings while looking at a clipboard with his telltale bored expression. Donghyuck cringes at the use of his demonic name.

"For the both of us? How?" You ask and Donghyuck slides over to your side, looking at Lubell with indifference.

"Does it matter, my love? Someone wishes for us both. What do you say to an extra meal?" He asks and Lubell rolls his eyes when Donghyuck nibbles at your ears with his fangs as you mull it over. A summons is a summons, you must respond if it was done correctly. However, how did they summon you both? Your candle formation was mostly new, and similar to Dongyuck's, could they have meant just him? It didn't matter, you had to answer the call.

"Let's go, my sun and moon."

The room is boring, yet surprisingly homey. As you phase through the ring of flames, moulded into Donghyuck's side with a leg wrapped around him, you look at the room before the poor soul who'd summoned you. The bed was a California king, so large and open. The windows were shut tight, with something sealing it, lest the wind ruin the candles and the entire summoning process. And finally, the owner of the room is kneeling before you, looking up at the two of you with such awe his eyes tear up, and his heart races. He's beautiful, and he's perfect.

"Look, love, he did summon us both. How sweet of him." As you and Donghyuck set down onto the hardwood floor softly, you notice that in fact, he'd somehow combined your candle formations together with an extra candle.

"I didn't mean to. I only meant to summon Sastronar." The man whimpers, and you bark out a laugh at his admission, wiping tears from your eyes.

"Sastronar? Oh, she'd get a kick out of this. Is the page ripped, sugar, how did you manage this?" As you ask, you curl your body around his shoulder and look down at the summoning book he'd used. It's crudely made, the leather slipping off its spine and the pages smelling moldy, but the words are clear. It is yours and Donghyuck's formations, only it's labelled Sastronar, and not your own namesake. The man closes the book and backs away from your touch, like you'd burned him with the simple graze of your chin. Donghyuck notices immediately.

"Well, you've summoned us both, so you get two for the price of one. What is your name, baby?" Donghyuck leans down and helps the man to his feet, and the man swallows down some fear, and tries to even his breathing, to answer.

"Mark. Mark Lee." He finishes and you rub at his shoulders, softly and gently as you use your concubus abilities to alleviate some of his fear. You can't take it all away, you'd be taking him away from himself, but you can help him.

"Mark...Mark. I like that. It's straight to the point. Well, you may call me Y/N, and you can call my husband Donghyuck. Do not be so afraid, we are here to please you. It is why you summoned Sastronar, is it not?" You ask, slowly inching your hands from his shoulders to his waist, and he doesn't fight it off. You notice it quickly, how his skin itches for your hands to hold his hips, and you inhale the amount of want coming from him. Donghyuck licks his lips at the taste.

"Yes…I know that Incubi is derived from the Latin word inccubare…."to lie on". I wanted..." He trails off with a dusting of crimson against his cheeks, looking at you for help. He's almost ashamed to say it aloud.

"Oh, sweet baby, you can say it. There is nothing wrong with submitting yourself as a man. Do you want to submit yourself to us?" You already know that answer, and so does Donghyuck, and because you know this, you also know that Mark is aroused by being cared for. Of being reassured that he's in control, despite the obvious fact that he isn't.

"Yes I want that. I've never done it before, but everytime I watch porn, I find myself watching pegging videos and gay porn. Does that make me weird, or gay?" He asks in sudden confession and Donghyuck takes the lead in answering this.

"Well, what do you think it means? Are you attracted to her? Do you want to fuck her?" He asks and Mark looks you over. Your body has grown some curve since you'd formed as a Concubus, but you'd mostly retained your human body. Carapace armor clings to your shoulders and your tits in a way that frames them, and lets the light catch them. Your succubus mark is proudly displayed on your naval, where you wear nothing underneath. Yes, he's attracted to you. Very much so. And yes, he would like to fuck you.

"Yes, you are. And now, are you attracted to me? Do you want to fuck me?" Donghyuck continues, standing up and showing himself off to the human. He's shirtless, as are most Incubi, with a low hanging armor plate and sharp carapace pieces on his shoulders, just like you. His body is lean, with fit abs and strong legs, and a proud cock on display. Mark swallows, and you can feel his own cock harden as he does, looking Donghyuck up and down. He wants to fuck you both, but he wants to fuck Donghyuck most of all.

"Well, there's the answer to that question. Have you considered that you're bicurious? Perhaps my wife and I could settle that curiosity." Donghyuck sits Mark onto the bed with ease, and you slide onto his other side, placing your hands on his hip and the other on his shoulder. He blushes deeply, and nods, removing his shirt. Donghyuck makes the first move, pressing a light kiss to Mark's cheek, and then another, another, and another as it slowly trails to his neck, his shoulders. Small whines pant from his mouth as he leans back to give Donghyuck access.

"So beautiful." You praise him as you take the other side of his neck, soft and gentle, but it rages into something more as the time passes, and Donghyuck still travels down Mark's body, leaving red skin and bruised hickeys in his wake.

"How far do you want to go, sugar?" You pull back from him and he thinks, looking at Donghyuck, who has made his way to kneeling in front of Mark.

"All the way. You only live once, right?" Mark speaks after a moment of sensual silence, and you give Donghyuck a knowing look.

"Sure. Now, I've seen it in your eyes. The way you look at him. Donghyuck lay back, I think our pet wants to suck you off. You've practised, haven't you? You look at him with a strange confidence." You look at Marks eyes, now staring at Donghyuck's armour piece with a glint in his eye and Donghyuck smirks, laying back and gesturing to himself. Mark couldn't have gone to him faster, the lust over fueling his shyness. Well, mostly.

"Do I just…suck you off or what?" He asks and Donghyuck takes the lead, guiding Mark's head to his own, kissing the man's neck again while you watch, retracting your claws and rubbing slowly at your clit. Mark goes farther and farther down, finally reaching Donghyuck's cock and licking a stripe against it. The incubus sings his praise as Mark gets on all fours to fully put his body into sucking Donghyuck's cock. The room is full of wanton noises of Mark humming and slurping against your husband's dick, who in turn is groaning and biting his lip.

"Yes, you're so good at this baby. Doing so well. Donghyuck, I think I should prepare him for you." You fly to the space behind him, sliding his pants down to his knees, and then off his legs completely. And the sight you see is such a welcome one.

"He prepared for us love. Shaved, and cleaned. You're such a good boy." You press a kiss to his ass, and slide your forked tongue against the rim of his entrance, your hand clutching the fat of his ass cheeks. He whimpers and moans onto Donghyuck's dick, and you revel in the taste of his pleasure. He'd probably prepped himself, and you can't help but moan at the image of him laying on his bed, ass up stretching himself out for you. In his stress, he'd tensed, but you'd relaxed him. And now you stretch his hole with your tongue, and your hand pumps his cock agonisingly slowly.

"Fuck, mhmm." He groans in pleasure, backing into your face for more and sucking Donghyuck down so hungrily, like a lifeline. The incubus has a hand gripped into Mark's fluffy hair, clutching at it and guiding Mark into a rhythm that has his hip stuttering in their movements.

"I want…I want Donghyuck to fuck me. And I want to eat your pussy." Mark backs away to look back at you with a flushed face and half-lidded eyes. You massage your tits as Donghyuck speaks to him.

"You know just what you want. Come on darling, your turn. I'll go at your pace, Mark." Donghyuck speaks and you slide into the space under Mark, his arms surrounding your body. Seeing him look at you, while Donghyuck stands behind him, makes your insides burn.

"Thank you." Mark suddenly confesses praise, and you can't stop him as he gives you a small, soft peck. Your arms holding him at a large distance immediately, eyes blown wide. He looks at you with hurt, and Donghyuck looks at you in concern.

"He's kissed me….oh darling, he kissed me." You feel everything at once. Heartbreak, hope, confusion, lust, it all mixes in your head and you find yourself tearing up. Donghyuck pulls way from him and sits him down, and you feel the scene has become too familiar, holding your wings around your body.

"What?! What? What's happening? You're scaring me." Mark whines, crying out in shock as the mark of Asmodeus glows, etches itself into the skin above his cock and you look at Donghyuck from between your wings as he takes the initiative, calming Mark down, who stares a the mark in fearful awe.

"When you fuck sex demons such as ourselves, it's just sex. However, kissing our lips is seen as loving, romantic, as commitment, before God. You have damned yourself to a different eternity in hell. You'd become one of us when you die." You see it in Mark's eyes then, something so fearful he goes quiet with widened eyes. He would not react the same as you did all those years ago.

"What…? I-I just wanted to kiss you I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He's not crying, at least not yet, but he is running at the mouth, panting and biting his lip in worry. However, you and Donghyuck can taste in the air, in his words.

He's still turned on by it. He's afraid, shit, he's terrified, but he's turned on by it.

"Sweetheart, what scares you about it? You aren't going to die now, if that is what you think." You speak, wrapping a wing around his shoulder to comfort him.

"I don't want to fuck everyone. I barely got the courage to summon you, most of all to fuck you. I…I don't want to become a whore." Mark speaks after a moment and Donghyuck looks at you with a look. You question it, wondering where this might lead.

"You will not be a whore. When you become one of us, the instincts will come to you like a fly to honey. It's how to live as one of us. And don't worry, you will have Y/N and I. We'll be with you." Donghyuck rests his hand on Mark's thigh, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He takes several moments to think, and you prepare yourself to go back to Hell on a hungry stomach. You have enough to last, but it wouldn't be a meal.

"I think I've made my peace with it…I wasn't exactly going to Heaven anyways, y'know? And if I were to go to hell, I'd be tortured for all eternity. I don't think sex is torture, so it's better to have sex forever then to be in agony." He was surprisingly educated about how one dies, despite humans not truly knowing. You're proud of him for making peace with it. You went out a bit different than he did. He wouldn't spend his time in jail, rotting away until finally someone took him out. He was a peaceful sinner. The kind with his humanity intact.

"That's good. Do you still want us to have sex with you?" You ask, even though you know the answer.

"Yes, please? Can I still kiss you now? Would that be rude to you? I also want to kiss you." He asks you, before turning to Donghyuck too. Your husband licks his lips.

"You can kiss us all you want." Mark latches himself onto him when he gets the go ahead, kissing him feverishly. Their mouths clash together while you slide your hands around his hips, sliding upwards and down, admiring his body.

"Mm I still want to eat you out Y/N." Mark breaks away from Donghyuck with his lips swollen and you nod, bringing him to you in a flush kiss, tasting his tongue for yourself. He brings his mouth to your tits, sucking and bubbling onto the hardened nipples of your left breast, his other hand kneading the flesh of your hip.

"You're so pretty." He pants the words breathlessly and you burn, looking away and into Donghyuck's eyes as Mark mouths and teeth against your chest, across your ribs, lower.

"I'm going to fuck you now, baby, you ready for me?" Donghyuck asks, groping at Mark's hips and he breaks away from your navel to nod rapidly, arching his back and returning to your pussy with a starved tenacity. His tongue flicks and sucks at your folds, and you move against his ministrations. Donghyuck spits a generous amount of lubricant into his hand and into the space between Mark's ass. As the human eats your pussy, Donghyuck lines himself with his entrance and rests the tip of his cock against it.

"Are you ready for me? I need words this time, Mark." Donghyuck speaks again and Mark whimpers, upset to stop but happy to start.

"Yes, please fuck me. Use me. Both of you, use me." Mark groans and licks against your folds once again, making his way to your clit and sucking tenaciously. You grab ahold of his hair and grind against his face, biting your lip. You know when Donghyuck has entered him, because a low grain escapes him, and Mark moans loudly against your pussy, the reverberations feeling delicious. His entire body moves, slowly, back and forth as Donghyuck creates a pace, adjusting for the both of them and groaning in pleasure.

"Nngh, fuck!" Mark moans, shrill and breathy, biting his lip and panting as Donghyuck increases the pace. To see him like this is a blessing, watching his fucked out expression looking at yours, his lips swollen and his chin glossy with your juices. And his eyebrows twist with pleasure as he cries out, grabbing hold of your hips and continuing to eat your pussy again. He moans and groans, sucks and licks, moving his head up and down, he does it all and you feel an orgasm approaching like wildfire, coming towards you, fast and intense. You grip his hair, and clench, before letting go of it all.

"Oh Asmodeus!" You praise your patron and cum against Mark's tongue, feeling cum spray against his face and soak the fabric underneath your bodies. Recovering from your orgasm, you slide yourself under him, bringing him into a kiss as his body moves forward with every thrust. You taste yourself on his tongue, and feel yourself smear onto your own face. He's whimpering and whining into your mouth and you bring his ear to your lips, whispering.

"Fuck me while he fucks you. I know you can do it." You extend your legs to wrap around him, looking at Donghyuck from Mark's shoulder, and he nods, changing your angles slightly. Mark lines himself with you, and kisses you again, and with the first thrust, he fucks into you.

"Mmnf!" It's your turn to moan into his mouth as Donghyuck essentially fucks you both, every sharp thrust of his hips drives Mark's into yours, and you clung onto him as you close your eyes, arching back almost far enough for your horns to hit the bed above you.

"So good for us. So good for me." Donghyuck growls, fangs bared, and he does something so sexy you moan at the mere sight of it. He bites Mark, on his shoulder, and the human screams in ecstasy, as blood drips down his skin and drops hit your body. You feel your second orgasm sneak its way through, building, and when Mark cries out and cums into your pussy, you let it crash against you, the two of you groaning and writhing in orgasmic bliss.

"Did that feel good, pet? Cumming inside me?" You ask and Mark nods, resting on your chest and panting as Donghyuck continues. Whereas your stamina was long, and you could cum many times, Donghyuck's stamina was longer, but he can only cum once. Twice on occasion.

"I love you." You let Mark say it in his lust-filled state, but give a glance to Donghyuck. He doesn't look upset at the notion. Not at all.

"I'm gonna cum inside you. Fill you up, nice and pretty." Donghyuck falters in his thrusts and falls rigid, relaxing and groaning as Mark jumps, moaning and whining as the incubi pumps cum into him. And once it's done Donghyuck pulls out, slowly and gently, before falling beside you. Mark finds his place, cradled between the two of you, and you move the hair that sticks to his face. There's no point in cleaning yourselves up. Once you go back to hell, any trace of you will be gone, except for the memories in his mind and the brand on his underbelly.

"What do you do for fun? What makes you happy?" You start the conversation first, as your arm drapes over his side and your hand holds your husband's. He goes red as he thinks about it.

"I'm in an idol group. It's me and twenty one others. We're called NCT. I rap." He laughs awkwardly and you smile. Donghyuck presses a kiss to Mark's forehead, bringing his arm to rest under the other's head.

"That does sound fun. How can you make music with twenty other people, though? That sounds difficult. And rap? Our baby does rap? I'd love to hear this." You look at him in alarm. What was he doing? However, hearing the pet name for Mark doesn't upset you. It delights you.

"Oh, really? Well, I could play you my song Golden Hour. I made it without the others." He excitedly stands and grabs his phone, nestling into the space between you like a puzzle piece. The piece he plays is funky, fresh, it's artistic and it makes your ears happy. You tap against his hip with the rhythm and your tail flicks to the beat. Donghyuck bops his head and looks at Mark teasingly as the lyrics boast of his prowess.

"That's amazing. And absolutely a diss track to Gordon Ramsay, what's your beef with him?" You ask and Mark laughs, opening a tweet after a couple searches to show Gordon Ramsay commenting on his eggs.

"You did fuck them up pretty badly. What happened?" Donghyuck laughs and Mark scowls, swatting a hand at his thigh. You could feel the pull back to hell in the base of your wings, and the tip of your horns. You wanted to stay with Mark a little longer though, so youinched closer and rested against him.

"It was years ago, and I have mastered eggs. Hence the song? What do you guys do for fun?" Mark asks and you laugh, looking him in the eye.

"Oh, duh, but surely outside of sex, something matters to you?" He asks, and you bite your lip, thinking about it.

"I sing, and she reads and writes. There are several levels of hell, just where the demons reside. One level has this stage I perform on when I'm not feeding, and a library I almost lose her in. Listen, we do not have much time, but we will be there that day, okay? Whenever it happens, we'll be there." Donghyuck's legs are the first thing to start fading away, and you see your arm start to go too. Mark nods, smiling tearfully.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you again...for everything. I can't wait to see you again." Mark presses a final kiss upon each of your lips, and you both hold him, closing your eyes. When they open, you're greeted by Donghyuck in the fourth plane of hell, Asmodeus's plane, and a sad look crosses both your faces.

"Is it strange I…I miss him. Like, one fuck session with a stranger and I miss him?" You look at him with a yearning glance and Donghyuck nods solemnly.

"It is what happens when you damn a human. Once they've kissed you, you know they're dying for you. You can't help but feel you'd die for them too. I felt it with you." He speaks and you sit beside him. You think about Mark, who lays in his bed with a small smile on his face. His time of death is ten years from now. He'll be on stage with his members, singing and dancing to their newest single. And a sign above is going to fall on him, mangle his face, blood and gore will traumatize his members, and kill him. It's not a way that he deserves, but one he's going to go through anyways. His death will be instant though, and that's all you can hope for.

It's 2033, and you feel it in your heart first, that it's Mark's death day. You hold Donghyuck's hand and look at the gates, feeling a sense of anxiousness in you. Would Mark remember? And would he come through okay?

"Calm down, love, you came in fine and so will he." Donghyuck chides and you nod, looking back at the gate. Demons stream in succession, each getting taken by imps for review, but you'd already told them you'd handle getting Mark situated. You see him then, his fluffy mop of hair as he steps through being the first thing you see. He's a succubus, to lie under, with crimson red skin and smaller wings to match, and he looks for you in earnest. When he sees you, he runs, flying into both your arms and holding you so tightly his new claws dig into your skin.

"You waited." He sighs in relief and you scoff, gripping him tighter to your body and wrapping your tail with his. He marvels at his new body as you speak.

"Of course! We couldn't go back on a promise, especially one to you. Come, we'll show you the ropes." You pull him along and he holds your hands. This was all you needed. Donghyuck and Mark, your flames, your sun, and your moon.

Someone summons you again, but you don't care. You had eternity with them.

You couldn't be happier.

AHGHGH the ending feels rushed again and it was kind of rushed I mean I wrote this all in the span of two days, but that's the ADHD hyperfixation doing it's thing anyways it was going to be just a threesome but then my brain did this thing where it was romance or die so 😭

#kpop imagines #nct x reader #haechan x reader #mark x reader #mark lee #haechan #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #donghyuck au #mark au

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t0jisd0ll · 1 year

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red wine and midnight skies

genre: angst (no comfort)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn! reader

warnings: slight ooc miguel, mentions of stalking, one use of [name]

word count: 0.7k

At this point the disappointment had become natural to you.

Getting stood up at a date started to become a common occurrence for the past few months. It was a routine, really. You would spend hours trying to get the perfect outfit, only to sit alone until midnight in some restaurant or cafe, the years threatening to spill from your eyes.

Every single time, your boyfriend Miguel would come up with some pathetic excuse or reason for why he couldn't show up.

Most of the time he couldn't even look you in the eyes as he said it.

You find yourself frequently thinking about how things used to be when you first started dating-when he actually showed up to things, when he was actually there when you needed him.

This is most of what was going through your head as you sat alone at a fancy restaurant, not even remembering how many times you had asked for a refill for your glass of wine. The waiter, along with the other diners had given you looks of pity, you could sense it.

Maybe they could tell that it wasn't your first time getting stood up like this.

Your gaze stood transfixed on your red wine, slowly twirling the glass in your hand to create a mini tornado. It usually helped you overcome the boredom of being alone.

To be honest, you quite liked being alone sometimes, that wasn't particularly new to you. Feeling alone, however, hurt the most.

The alarm on your watch rang. 11:12 pm, it read. You sighed to yourself and called for the bill. Another night wasted in the same way.

You honestly don't know why you bother anymore.

At about this time, the television in the restaurant blared with the alarm for breaking news.

"The attack on Nueva York by mutant lizard forces has been thwarted by Spiderman-"

Ignoring the blaring noises of the police sirens and the loud new, you paid the bill and left the restaurant.

As opposed to most people using their hover-vehicles and such, you actually preferred walking home. There was a decent amount of breeze during the night, and you found it quite refreshing.

Nearing your apartment, you saw a tall figure leaning on the main front door.

You rolled your eyes and slowed your pace as much as possible.

"Cariño, I was just going to come!" Miguel exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. You scoffed; he was acting like he did nothing wrong.

"Save it, Miguel. I don't want to hear another one of your petty excuses." You scowled, getting even more annoyed by the second.

"I'm so sorry mi vada, I got caught up in some-"

"[name], please, let me just-"

"No Miguel! You can't keep justifying yourself to me like this forever! You should have never accepted my proposal if you're never going to show up to anything in the first place." You half-screamed. aware that it was literally midnight and people would be asleep.

You would probably think about it later on and say that it was the alcohol talking, but whatever comes out of your mouth the first time is usually the truth.

He frowned, "If you feel so much about this, why are we still together then?" Miguel asked, breathing deeply.

"Your right, maybe we shouldn't be together after all." You blankly stated and you stormed inside your apartment building, leaving him standing alone at your doorstep.

Perhaps this was for the best after all...

The city of Nueva York was beautiful at midnight. Miguel O'Hara, however, could not bring himself to admire the scenic view. Not with his current state of mind.

Your words kept replaying in his head. The again, there was nothing he could have done. This was better than a canon event occurring after all.

If you and him had stayed together and lived a happy life and something had happened to you because of his secret identity? No, he couldn't bear to think of it.

This is fine, he said to himself. It's not like he couldn't keep an eye on you for safety. He was Spiderman for fucks sake, he could swing from here to there and make sure you were safe.

Yes, everything would be fine.

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thelastspeecher · 4 months

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eregyrn-falls replied to your post: “I've been watching a lot of tornado related...”

tornadoes are something that terrified me as a little kid, no doubt due to television. (i can remember a nightmare from early childhood about a tornado.) i grew up in eastern PA, where at the time we didn't have any. so it was the IDEA of them that terrified me. honestly, it still does. i would very very VERY much prefer never to live in a place that gets them with any regularity.

i realize they're old hat for you, and that's true for anyone who lives with a natural phenomenon. you come to respect it, rather than be terrified of it. but for me, i can't get past the suddenness of them. the fact that they can strike in the middle of the night when you might have almost no warning at all. while they aren't completely unpredictable (obviously there are observable weather fronts and stuff), to me, they feel that way.

the natural disasters that i can deal with are hurricanes, and blizzards. both of those are things you see coming for DAYS. you can get out ahead of them. you can take steps to protect your house and your pets and yourself. (i mean, both of those in theory, assuming you have the means and the financial situation.) earthquakes and tornadoes are too sudden for me and that's why they scare me.

oh you're not the only one who's had a tornado nightmare! one of the worst nightmares I've had in my entire life was a tornado nightmare!

I think that what allows me to continue living in a tornado-prone area despite my general anxiety over like, idk, life, is two things: 1) tornado predictions give a crazy amount of warning nowadays, and 2) I live in a tornado-prone area, I've had a few close calls, but it's not like I live in Moore, Oklahoma lmao.

most tornado warnings aren't even that a tornado has been spotted by someone or confirmed by radar. most of them are "radar indicated rotation", meaning that a thunderstorm with a rotating cloud has been detected on radar. which doesn't mean tornado. it does mean a storm capable of a tornado and more likely to produce one, but it doesn't mean a tornado. or even a funnel cloud!

very VERY rarely are people caught off guard by a tornado anymore. FEMA says the average amount of time between a tornado warning being issued and the tornado or storm striking the area is 10 to 15 minutes. plenty of time to grab your emergency kit and go to your safe place. we have tornado watches if the weather is favorable and often know days in advance whether we'll be hit by weather conducive for tornadogenesis.

and even when we don't know in advance, like I said, we still have plenty of warning! about a week ago, I woke up to sirens, then ten minutes later, heard them again. which I knew likely meant a tornado warning had been issued (the first time, I checked my phone and saw it was severe thunderstorm and just rolled over to sleep some more lol). and before I could check, my phone went off, blaring the same alarm as an Amber Alert. which I knew 100% meant tornado warning. and it was. my roommate and I had time to use the bathroom, grab the dogs and emergency bag, and even take the dogs outside really quick to pee before the storm hit us! and we didn't have a tornado watch in effect. there weren't supposed to be conditions for tornadoes that morning.

and like I said, I don't live in Moore. if I did, I wouldn't even DREAM of living somewhere without a basement. as it is, I fucking hate that my best option is a hallway on the first floor. we've gotten tornadoes before. some have gotten close to me. one literally lifted over a building I was in. but thankfully, we're not as prone as other locations in my state; the storms tend to lose some steam by the time they reach here. and the tornadoes that do spawn tend to be lower level, again, because of the storms losing steam by the time they get here.

I know a lot about the science of tornadoes and grew up in Tornado Alley (or adjacent, depending on what graphic you use), so I know that our current methods are so flipping good at protecting us. we DO have warning. not as much as for a hurricane, but generally speaking, enough to, like I said, use the bathroom and grab the pets. earthquakes...yeah those don't typically give much warning, but that's something scientists are working on. buildings in earthquake-prone areas are built to withstand them (much like many buildings in tornado-prone areas are built to withstand severe storms), and people grow up learning what to do in an earthquake. (which is find a table to hide under, essentially, btw.)

no, what scares ME the most are wildfires.

you're flat-out fucked over by those.

#eregyrn-falls #I recognize that I wrote out a long thing and likely didn't change your mind #tornadoes ARE scary. I get scared when I know there's a confirmed tornado near me.#last year what wound up being an EF4 was headed for the town I live in #I was watching its track and hearing the sirens go off and seeing reports of it being bad #I was on my phone with my parents the entire time trying not to completely freak out and failing #luckily the tornado didn't make it to us #and even more luckily no one was killed #but like. straddling the line of awareness and fear is really difficult and I don't always succeed #even after a lifetime of tornadoes!#BUT SERIOUSLY WILDFIRES ARE SO MUCH WORSE HOLY SHIT #I can handle ''shelter in place'' WAY better than ''YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES TO LEAVE OR YOU WILL DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH''#response

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ganondorf · 7 months

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nothing quite like being woken up to blaring alarms and sirens at 5 am for a tornado warning in FEBRUARY

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sincerelyjxyy · 1 year

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Gold Rush - Seven

Invisible String - Gold Rush

Chapter Seven - The Last Time

Song Of The Chapter- Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

✧ all I ever wanted to know was what to do. — dave eggers, you shall know our velocity ✧

Summary: Max and Josie go on their breakfast date, and Josie goes with the boys to the Grubbs' household. What happens when they find out that the same people who'd almost killed them the day before is now reigning terror looking for that compass?

Warnings: Very very little brief spicy scene between Max and Josie.

If anyone's curious about what dress Josie was wearing this chapter, it's the Erdem Floral Yesenia Dress. It's so old lady-ish and i feel like that's so Jo's dress style.

Word Count: 13.3k

Gold Rush Masterlist

MORNINGS IN THE SHOUPE-GREY HOUSEHOLD WERE WHAT ANYONE COULD EXPECT FROM A FAMILY MADE UP OF A WORKAHOLIC MOTHER AND HER TWO INTROVERTED DAUGHTERS: EXTREMELY QUIET. Petunia Shoupe was regularly out of the house by seven thirty, and the girls usually chose to stay holed up in their own rooms. So, it was rare to spot someone wandering the house before ten.

It was even rarer to hear someone.

Of course, the stillness of the morning would offer no difference to Josie's intake of sleep. The Grey girl had never experienced problems staying asleep. As soon as she was pulled into slumber, it was nearly impossible to wake her until she was ready.

Because of Josie's well-known habit of oversleeping, she almost never woke to an alarm. Meaning that, most of the time, someone else had to come in and turn the clock off. They would then wake her for whatever she had to do, before angrily stomping out of her room and back to their own sanctuary.

So, it was unsurprising that, as her alarm blared the morning after the compass recovery, Josie sleepily curled into her pillow, completely careless. It was a daily ritual.

But what was noticeably different that time was that it was seven in the morning, during summer.

This fact had Naomi Grey fuming as she stomped through their shared bathroom, eye practically twitching as she pressed her palms to her ears. The loud screech of the alarm was agonizing, and Naomi was sure she would go insane just listening to it.

She marched around Josie's bed to the clock, slamming her palm down on the snooze button and relishing in the silence. She turned to glare at the peacefully sleeping seventeen-year-old, who had not a care in the world as her apocalyptic tornado siren blared through the second floor. She huffed, grabbing one of Josie's spare pillows, and gave a strong thwack to her sister.

But she was only met with a light snore. Naomi hit her once again, and she became even more frustrated when she gained no new reaction.

Rolling her eyes, she threw the pillow back on the bed and glanced around her sister's room to find inspiration for waking her sister. The idea easily came to her, and a smirk curled its way onto her lips. She quickly raced back to her own room, grabbing exactly what she needed.

Expertly, she held the two giant, hissing cockroaches in her hands. She hurriedly made her way back to Josie's room, a bounce in her step, as she quietly cooed at the insects. Naomi knew from experience that the easiest way to wake her sister was to tickle her feet.

Her plan was the perfect extreme.

She set her beloved pets down on the bed, lifting the end of her sister's blanket. She placed one of the bugs right on Josie's foot, then sat the other on top of the duvet near her stomach. She snickered, double-checking that their cat wasn't in the room, and walked back to the side of her sister's bed.

Naomi pulled at the tip of Josie's ear and leaned down to yell in it. "Hibernation's over! Wake the fuck up!"

Josie barely stirred, but she reached up to gently slap at her sister's face. A tickle came from the sole of her foot and she giggled, pinching her sister's nose. "I'm up. Stop tickling me."

Naomi let out an evil chuckle, shaking her head and staring down at her sister in delight. "That's not me; that's Henrietta. Oh, look, Bobby wants to say hi too!" Naomi pointed down to the bug crawling up the duvet, and Josie immediately sat up in fright.

"You ass! Get these things off of me!" Josie's skin crawled up her spine as her sister maniacally laughed. She glared at the girl, trying her best not to startle or hurt the bugs as they wandered around her bed.

"Naomi, I'm serious. I will kick Henrietta off my foot if you don't get them out."

Naomi huffed and mumbled something about never being able to have any fun, before grabbing both of her beloved pets. She cooed at them assuredly and promised that their aunt was only grumpy because she didn't have any animals of her own to unconditionally love.

Josie rolled her eyes, watching her sister move to leave the room. The thirteen-year-old got halfway into the bathroom and shouted back a "you're welcome!"

Josie loudly scoffed. "Fuck you!"

She glanced at her bedside clock to discern that she only had a little less than an hour before Max arrived. Immediately, she jumped out of bed to get to work. She had to shower, style her hair, do her makeup, and get dressed all within the span of fifty-six minutes.

She could probably make it work.

Josie sped through her shower, definitely nicking herself a few times while shaving. She used it to bask in the cold water, considering the air conditioner was still down from the hurricane. She spent fifteen minutes curling her hair, a new record that she patted herself on the back for. She did her makeup, with a quick intermission for an eyeliner meltdown, and finished in about thirty minutes.

By the time she was tying the dress's straps over her shoulders, she'd heard the honk of her boyfriend's truck outside.

She checked herself out in the mirror that hung from her closet door and tried not to laugh at how housewifely she looked. The soft blue-toned, V-neck, midi-dress fell just around her calves and was decorated with a mute beige and white floral print. She'd struggled with getting the fastening tied around the waist to look pretty, but she felt proud of what she'd accomplished.

Honestly, she felt like she'd jumped out of an old movie—not that she was complaining. She looked great.

She grabbed her leather backpack, shoving in the different essentials and makeup that she might need. With one last wink and finger guns in the mirror, she raced out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She turned to move into the foyer but slowed once she found Max in the living room, sharing a hearty laugh with her mother.

She casually approached the threshold of the main room, watching with amusement as he ardently spoke with Petunia. Josie gently made her way through the entrance, fidgeting with the top handle of her bag.

She smiled when she caught her boyfriend's eyes, and he returned it as he peered over her mother's shoulder.

Excusing himself, he moved to meet Josie and rest his hands on the outer part of her shoulders as he ogled her. "Wow." He shrugged his shoulders in disbelief. "You look beautiful."

Josie felt heat rush through her body and to her face, suddenly feeling flushed as she gazed up at him. He wore a white button-up and soft blue polo shorts that matched her dress. He looked so pleasantly put together that Josie had to stop herself from swooning. She couldn't believe he was her boyfriend.

He was incredibly beautiful.

"You're so handsome, honey." She reached up to swipe a stray lash from his cheek, holding her finger out for him to make a wish on.

Lightly gripping her finger, he cheesily closed his eyes and waited a moment, before blowing the lash off her finger. He opened his eyes to beam down at her and then kissed her finger. He pulled her hand down to place another kiss to her hairline.

Once they parted, he turned to her mother and breathed out in awe. "How lucky am I?"

Her mother chuckled and nodded at her daughter adorningly. Josie reveled in the adulation she received from them, and her mother's silent approval filled her with utmost pride.

It was like finally succumbing to a craving—the sense of achievement Josie felt from the way her mother winked at her.

"Lucky beyond compare, Max."

He shook his head in astonishment and turned back to her, taking her hand and spinning her under his arm. Josie obliged, giggling as he let out noises of approval and admiration. He stared down at her as if stunned by her, his glassy brown eyes entrancing her own. "You're like the sun shining out from the clouds, Josephine."

Josie scoffed at the very cliché expression, trying to hide her rosy complexion as he paid her compliments. She ignored the weird feeling in her stomach as he used the comparison of the sun, which she chalked up to just being unfamiliar with the showered appraisal.

He shook his head once again and grabbed her bag, resting his other hand in the crook of her neck and shoulder. He leaned down to kiss her, but Josie placed a hand to his chest as more of the scarlet color rushed to her face. She glanced behind her boyfriend at her heavily amused mother, while he looked at her in confusion.

Josie giggled and playfully tilted her head. "My mother's right there."

He turned to look at the woman over his shoulder, a boyish grin painted on his face. "My apologies, Ms. Shoupe."

She waved a dismissive hand and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, moving to the kitchen for what Josie assumed was coffee. "You two kids have fun. I have to leave for work soon."

Josie smiled and winked at her boyfriend, who returned the gesture teasingly. She grabbed his hand from her shoulder and entwined their fingers, practically dragging him toward the door. "Bye mom!"

"Bye, Ms. Shoupe!"

The couple made their way out the front door and down the stairs of the porch. Josie laughed as he pulled her toward his truck in the rounded driveway, and she had to all-but-jog to keep up with his fast pace. Once they rounded the truck to the passenger side, Max took the opportunity to, for lack of a better term, jump her bones.

He dropped her bag and lifted his hands to cup her jaw, pushing her back flush against the vehicle. He quickly leaned in to connect their lips in a deep and passionate kiss. Josie was impressed their noses hadn't collided by the sheer force of his lips pressed to hers, hungrily moving hers to follow wherever his went.

The boy smiled as he pressed her further to the side of his truck, bodies pushed together as he slightly removed one hand to raise her right leg and make room for him. Josie ran her hands up his forearms, stopping when they slid down the front of her. His fingertips brushed her covered chest, and she bit her lips to hide the gargle from her throat. His hands moved to sit at her waist, while hers moved to pull him closer by the neck.

It was like she needed to share his air. She wanted every single sense of hers to be filled with him. His taste of peppermint, his expensive woodsy smell, and his warmly firm touch. She wanted every part of him to engulf her and swallow her whole. Maybe then their forever would be solidified.

He was the first to break apart from the kiss, which immediately offered air that Josie hadn't realized she needed. But she wasn't given enough time to enjoy it, before he'd quickly started a path of open-mouthed kisses down her jaw.

There was a distant throbbing that filled her body, and she briefly felt embarrassed that he may be able to feel it with how close they were. Heat surrounded her body, swallowing her whole as she ran her palms over his shoulders and down his clothed chest.

She leaned her head back, a breathy laugh leaving her newly swollen lips, and glanced back at the front door. She willed herself to only let out a single whimper as his teeth scraped against a sensitive spot along her jaw, closing her eyes from the pleasure that consumed her. She was completely lost in the way his mouth moved along her skin.

"Max, someone could walk out and see."

"You heard your mom," he mumbled against her neck as his tongue skillfully slid across her skin. She tried to keep herself steady as a shiver ran up her spine, afraid that her legs might turn to jelly. She rubbed at the back of his neck, pulling him even closer despite the space between them being nonexistent. He kissed a trail up to her earlobe, nibbling at it and whispering.

"She said to have fun."

Josie inhaled, throwing her head back again as he trailed wet kisses back down her jaw. Eventually, he found the one spot that had her gasping out his name. She moved the hand from his neck to slap over her mouth, stunned at her display, but she could feel his smirk as he sucked the skin between his lips. His teeth scraped her skin as he sucked and bit a bruise into her jaw, soothing it with the warmth of his tongue.

"We're gonna miss breakfast," Josie breathlessly released. Finally, Max leaned back to look down at her.

His lips were flush and plump. He sported a wide smile as he admired the work he'd done on her neck. He tilted her jaw a bit, and he proudly pursed his lips and nodded when he'd fully inspected the already-forming bruise. The satisfaction in his eyes had Josie rolling her eyes humoredly, letting him chastely kiss her lips. He then picked up her bag and rounded the truck to his side.

Josie admiringly giggled as he winked at her across the hood. Climbing into the truck, she smiled when he placed her bag in the backseat for her. He then sat his arm on the center console and affectionately stared at her while she pulled on her seatbelt.

She realized he was staring once she'd finished and sent him a confused smile. He leaned over the center, pecking her lips again before moving back into his seat. "Did I mention how great you look today?"

"You did; thank you very much. But it is cute to hear you say it." She laughed through her blush as she played with the tie around her waist.

She wasn't sure if it was because he was serious about wanting to make an effort or if he'd just thought she looked really pretty that day. Either way, she'd take the positive attention.

She had a feeling that dress was going to quickly become her favorite.

"Well, then, I'll say it again." He grabbed her hand from her lap. "You look gorgeous." He gave her a cheeky smile and let their clasped hands rest in her lap, starting the truck and moving out of the driveway.

They made their way through the roads of Figure Eight, with one of Max's favorite bands playing lowly on the radio. They'd made an agreement early on in their relationship that the driver picked what played when driving; otherwise, the two of them would forever argue over it. Josie always wanted to play the playlist she'd made for car jams, but Max was much more of an emo-punk casual listener. Hence the need for a common ground on music decisions.

After a couple of minutes of driving down the main road, Josie turned to face her boyfriend with a large grin. "So, where are we eating breakfast?"

"We are going to none other than...Estelle's."

Josie's eyes winded at his words, and she squeezed his hand in elation. She beamed at him, happily jumping up and down in her seat and letting out squeals of joy. "Stop, that's my favorite breakfast place on the island!"

"Really? I had no idea!" The sarcasm in his voice was well-humored with a toothy smile. He laughed as Josie danced around in her seat with their attached hands. As she glanced back over at him, a pure sense of content flooded through her veins.

That—them—it'd been the exact thing she'd wanted. It felt so similar to when they'd first started dating, only better because they'd grown to know each other. Ease, laughter, and gentleness. It was what had made her fall for him.

The word love set off all types of alarms in her brain as she gazed at him from her seat, and she had to bite her tongue to keep it from spilling out. She wanted it to be the right time—the perfect time.

So, instead, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The drive was full of smiles and gentle talks about their plans for the rest of the summer. Josie told him about her theories that Taylor was releasing another album soon. Max happily listened and gave his own theories on a hypothetical new Taylor sound that he'd like to hear from her. The air was light as they drove toward town.

It truly felt like when they'd first started hanging out months prior. Their love for music, for life, and for the concept of love itself was brought back to life through their enthusiastic conversations. Josie wasn't sure when the last time she'd seen Max smile that much was, but she knew she didn't want it to stop. It was even better that she was the one to make him grin.

Her cheeks had begun to hurt from how wide her smile had grown.

Max pulled into the closest street parking available on the small road, kissing their joined hands before they separated. But just as he was going to exit the truck, Josie quickly grabbed his arm. "Wait, wait, wait!"

She reached behind them to grab her bag, digging out the Polaroid camera with a grin. Max playfully groaned, but Josie pouted out her lower lip to beg. She tugged on his arm, which silently commanded him to lean closer, and he easily relented.

Max leaned in to kiss her cheek as she snapped the photo, which made Josie eager to see it. It took only a few moments to print, and she immediately began to shake the photo and sing out shake it like a Polaroid picture.

She admired the photo as it developed, turning her hand to proudly show her boyfriend. He smiled, humming out in delight, before he hopped out of the truck. Josie stuffed the camera and photo back into her bag, climbing out to follow him.

She glanced around downtown Kildare, observing most of the businesses that were still cleaning up hurricane damage. She moved up on the curb and the brick sidewalk, scanning around to see if anyone she knew was out and about.

She laughed as her boyfriend approach her. "I feel like it's my birthday or something."

He winced through clenched teeth, snapping and tilting his head as if he were guilty. "Oh, shoot, you figured it out! Okay, this is actually your birthday party three months late." He dramatically sighed. "Now what am I gonna do with five thousand balloons that say 'surprise, you had no idea'?"

Josie giggled and shrugged in faux sympathy. "Give them to a clown who specifically passes out balloons to people after he jumpscares them?"

The brunette belly-laughed at her statement, and he grabbed her left hand to pull her closer to his side. Josie led them only a few yards forward until they arrived at the door of the small business nudged between an optometrist and a nail salon.

Their smiles were wide as they entered, and the ding of the doorbell was music to Josie's ears. She let her eyes scan the small tables that were spread around the breakfast nook. Once she registered that her favorite corner booth to the right of them was empty, she shot her boyfriend a large grin and pulled him toward it.

They settled into the light pink booth together, the leather cold against Josie's exposed shoulders. Max threw his right arm around the back of the booth to rest behind her and offer a semblance of warmth. His fingers absentmindedly skimmed the bare skin as she hummed to the pop song quietly playing over the speakers.

She pushed away the standard menu that sat on the table, already confident in what she wanted. Within moments, a friendly blonde woman had approached their table with a wide smile on her face. "Hi, what can I get for you guys today?"

Max motioned for Josie to order first, and she smiled politely at the woman. "Could I just get the Heyward with a cappuccino, please?"

One of the reasons why Josie loved Estelle's so much, aside from its incredible coffee, was the fact that Estelle had named the dishes after people around the island. Everything from the Deputy Shoupe and the Sheriff to the Heyward and the Ward Cameron. If you were significant on Kildare, Estelle was bound to name a dish in your honor.

The Heyward was her usual, coined by none other than the father of one of her favorite people on earth. A hearty meal of a fully-fried egg sandwich with tomato and cheese, a side of hashbrowns, bacon, and a cup of blueberries.

She'd gotten it so many times that she could taste it just from just the thought.

The woman nodded, jotting down the order on her butterfly notepad, before she set her gaze on Max. He smiled and folded the menu he'd skimmed while Josie was talking. He flashed a grin toward his girlfriend and turned back to the waitress.

"I'll have the Petunia Shoupe. Water is fine."

Josie scoffed out a laugh and hit his shoulder. He playfully chuckled and leaned away as he tried to catch her hands. Their waitress, whose name Josie caught was Hallie, walked away with an amused smile. Josie turned to smack Max's chest once again as he continued to laugh at her.

"You know what? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were only with me to get with my mother."

Snickering, he moved his hand to gently fiddle with one of the dress straps tied on her shoulders. He shrugged as if to admit guilt. "What can I say? She's a total milf."

Josie gaped at him, her eyes narrowing and her brows scrunching as he leaned his forehead against hers. He was laughing freely, obviously teasing her as she glared at him with no real malice.

She raised a finger, pushing his nose to separate their faces. "God no. First John B and JJ, and now you. When does the torture end?"

She could feel the hand that had rubbed patterns on her shoulder freeze. Max obviously tensed at the mention of her friends, and Josie waited to see his response. She dreaded him pulling realism back into their perfect morning, or pointing out something to remind her of the dramatic faction differences on Kildare.

She prepared for the worst, but he closed his eyes and shook his head. He inhaled, opened his eyes, and, after a few beats, smiled at her. His hand ran along the back of her shoulder and moved to hold the other side of her head. Pulling her close, he placed a kiss to the side of her head. When he pulled away, he smiled down at her. "At least your friends have good taste."

She hoped he was talking about their choice in her as a friend, too.

After getting their food, the couple spent two and a half hours eating and conversing about anything and everything. From how Max felt like he was getting so much better at golf to the book Josie had just finished on the history of showering. They talked about Max's excitement for senior year and Josie's excitement about taking AP Literature. Max reminded Josie that they had to narrow down the color they were going with for Midsummer's, and Josie mentioned that they also had to look for prom outfits. They talked about how his dad's construction company was going and how Josie's mom had recently been busy with a tax-evading client.

They were just getting into how Naomi had developed the habit of barking at tourists on the street for looking at her, when Max's phone rang out from his pants. He fiddled to pull it out of his pocket, head cocking when he read the caller ID.

Josie couldn't see it from where she sat, but she waited as he immediately answered it. "Yeah?"

He listened intently to whoever was on the other line, and Josie tried to make out who the voice belonged to. It wasn't that she didn't trust him—nothing like that. She just couldn't help but wonder who was important enough to interrupt their date with no explanation from Max. But the only thing she could decipher was the fast and muffled exclamations of whoever was speaking.

Max's eyes widened, darting down to the watch around his left wrist. He surveyed outside the window behind them and barely glanced back at Josie. He offered out a quick, "Yeah, give me like five minutes tops."

Without explanation, he slid out of the booth and sat a fifty down on the table.

Josie scrambled after him, grabbing her bag as she quickly shimmied out of the booth. He was already out of the glass door by the time she stood from the booth. She threw their waitress a brisk wave and moved to follow him out the door.

She huffed as he hung up the phone and made his way toward the driver's side door. "Hello? Very confused girlfriend here!"

He turned to look back at her, cursing and speed-walking back to her. He pecked her cheek and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "Josephine, I really have to go."

She shook her head in confusion and furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought we were spending all morning together?" Vividly, his promise of sharing the day together stained her memory.

He clicked the side of his mouth and shrugged indifferently, as if to say it is what it is. "I know, but that was before Rafe got back from Fiji. Top said that they've got a round scheduled in ten minutes. You know I can't miss a tee time."

Josie shook her head, completely baffled. She absolutely did not know how that was worth skipping out on their time together. Rafael fucking Cameron? Not only was she now dreading the fact that the Kook Prince had returned from his graduation trip early, but she also had to deal with her boyfriend ditching her for him?

Bane of her entire existence.

She gaped up at Max in disbelief, while he impatiently sighed and glanced back down at his watch. Her tongue swiped over her teeth in anger, but she stoically nodded and pursed her lips. Fine.

She was not going to be the girlfriend who got angry when her boyfriend wanted to be with his friends. Even if he had to fucking ditch her to do it.

"Can you at least drop me back off at home then?"

When he grimaced and avoided eye contact with her, her eyes grew to saucers. She slapped his arm harder than earlier as her annoyance grew. His eyebrows rose as he tried to reason with her. "Babe, I need to be there now. It's out of the way to go to the other side of Figure Eight. I'll make it up to you, promise."

Max cradled her jaw as he kissed her head again, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. He pulled away hastily and made his way back toward the truck, practically sprinting off the sidewalk. He pointed back at her as he opened the door. "Call Kiara or someone to come get you, okay? You'll be fine! Love you; I'll text you later!"

Josie stared, dumbfounded and shellshocked, as he waved. She was frozen in her spot, too scared to move or do anything else in that moment. It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over her entire body, the chill sending shockwaves through her veins. And Max simply pulled the truck from the parking spot and went off on his day, without another look back at her.

Love you, he'd said. Like it was nothing. As if it weren't the first time anyone had ever romantically said those words to her.

She wasn't sure what to do with herself.

She stared down at her white chucks, scuffing them against the ground as she tried to organize her muddled thoughts. Her gaze then moved to her dress, huffing as she ran her hand over the material. So much for dressing up for their day together.

Josie knew she couldn't call Kiara; she was working the morning shift at the Wreck. Josie had taken the entire day off under the impression she'd spend it with her boyfriend—another bust. She could call John B, but she really didn't feel like succumbing herself to his teasing at her outfit. She especially didn't want to hear the speech she was sure to get if he found out Max had ditched her.

So, with a sharp exhale and a roll of her shoulders, Josie marched her way down the sidewalk to begin her journey home. The walk across the main island and Figure Eight would take her a while, and she made it about a hundred yards before a tear slipped from her eye.

As she walked down the side of the main road, she dug in her bag with the hope that she'd packed her air pods. No such luck was granted, and she quickly realized that she was sans a distraction as she made the trek home. Meaning, she'd have to entertain herself.

She moved the backpack to sit fully on her shoulders. She opted to scroll through her phone as she walked. The cell towers on the lower side of the island were still iffy from the storm, so the best she could do was scroll through the photos on her phone and reminisce.

☆

"I'm just saying, like, I don't understand why you don't at least try with Kiara. She clearly likes you," JJ pointed out as he and John B drove through town. "She's like, 'Oh, John B'."

His awful impression of moaning out the brunette's name did nothing to impress said friend, who stared at him annoyedly. "Is that what she does?"

"She's sketch about you diving, and then she kissed you, bro!" JJ emphasized the boat incident, while actively trying to avoid the memory of Josie's similar action.

"She kissed me on the cheek." John B pointed out, uninterested in fulfilling whatever ideas JJ had concocted. "Jose did the same thing a second later. Is she in love with me, too? I mean, it's not like we were making out or somethin'."

"Okay, first, that was really cold, and I didn't appreciate that, alright?" JJ pointed at John B, lightly shoving his shoulder for the Josie comment. "Second, that's low-hanging fruit, bro."

John B tried to voice his disagreement with JJ's claim, but the blond was having none of it. "Don't pretend that you don't notice. I see it in your eyes. You're like, 'I kinda like that,' and you start blushing and shit."

"I blush?" John B asked, not at all convinced.

JJ nodded, like it was the most obvious thing known to man. "Yeah."

John B rolled his eyes. "Right, right. Y'know what I see in your eyes? How pissed you were when RJ got up there."

JJ sighed and shook his head, tilting it back against the headrest. "No, bro, don't even go there, okay? You know that's forbidden territory. It was just weird that you pretty much popped a chub when she did."

John B grimaced, shoving his friend's head. "Dude, she's like my sister." He couldn't even begin to think of Josie that way; it felt wrong on so many levels. Not to mention the fact that he knew, confidently, of the untapped feelings his friends shared for each other.

"Still, dude, not cool. Cause, like, if you two get together-" JJ paused and faked a gag at the thought. "If you made a move on her and then hurt her or some shit, I'd have to beat the crap outta you. Do I wanna do that? Not really."

"Sure, sure. It's not because you're, like, stupidly in love with her or anything." John B sarcastically nodded, and JJ scoffed as he fidgeted with one of the rings on his fingers.

Neither of them could find any other words that needed to be shared. There had always been an unspoken understanding between them, something that both of them knew but one of them refused to admit.

For a moment, John B thought that he'd backed JJ into a corner of silence, but then the blond grabbed the compass on the dash. And just like that, JJ's mouth was babbling once again.

☆

Josie had walked for around thirty minutes when the sound of an approaching vehicle came from behind her. It wasn't the first of her journey, but it was the first to slow down beside her as she walked.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" The familiar voice of her favorite blond sung through the air and caused her to look up to her left.

Just like she'd assumed, there JJ was, leaned out of the passenger window of the Twinkie as he called out to her. John B, of course, sat in the driver's seat and grinned at her through the window. He pretended to tip a hat at her. "Howdy ma'am."

"You look like you're headin' to a ladies who hate their husbands meeting," JJ joked.

Josie laughed as she glanced back down at her outfit. She shrugged and smacked her lips in defeat. "Actually, I just came back from it." She pointed back toward the direction she'd left, putting on a dramatized southern accent like she was in an old film.

"Right now, I'm on my way to cheat on him with a fella I met at the county fair. He's the real love of my life." She fanned herself and pretended to swoon, earning a laugh from both boys in the van.

She motioned down the road in front of her. "Why the hell are you guys heading to Kook-land?"

John B smiled and shook his head, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "We aren't, but we saw you back there and figured you might wanna come along."

She smiled cheekily at them and crossed her arms over her torso. Her eyes narrowed, staring at the grinning blond, who'd been unabashedly admiring her outfit. "And what exactly am I joining?"

"We're gonna go pay a visit to Scooter Grubb's wife; now get your cute ass in the car." JJ climbed out of the open window of the van, and Josie mirthfully laughed at her friend's antics. He opened the sliding back door, bowing and motioning inside with a hand. "M'lady."

Josie rolled her eyes and, without much thought, approached the open door. She gave an exaggerated curtsy, holding out the bottom of her dress as she lowered. "Why thank you, kind gentleman."

JJ's laugh was boisterous as he gently pushed her into the van, closing the door behind her with a wink.

Josie leaned over John B's shoulder. "Quick question." He hummed in acknowledgement as they both amusedly watched JJ try to climb back in through the window. His struggle was clear, which made the action even funnier to observe. "Are those gym shorts Kie had still back here?"

"Should be, unless she took them out."

Thanking him, she crawled back to look through the random articles of clothing the pogues had stored in the seats of the Twinkie. Different swimsuits, tops, shorts, and socks from every closet were stuffed into storage. She celebrated when she found the shorts, also pulling out a random shirt she was sure was JJ's.

As JJ settled back into his seat, she leaned forward between the two of them with a faux-serious expression, forehead sternly scrunched. "Either of you peak back here; I'll gouge your eyes out like Justinian did to Belisarius."

Neither boy had any idea what Josie meant by that, but they still nodded and turned to set their sights on the road ahead. John B pulled the Twinkie back into drive, opting for a distraction as he and JJ unwaveringly stared out the windshield.

John B smirked as he recalled something he'd observed when they found her. "By the way, did a vacuum cleaner get a hold of your neck or what?"

Josie scoffed at his jest, and she muttered a small "shut up" as she pulled on the gym shorts under her dress, shimmying around the back to get them up her legs. She rose to her knees and hit her head on the roof, letting out an oof. She bent down in pain and rubbed at the injury, double-checking that she hadn't made herself bleed.

She caught the snort of laughter that escaped John B, so she reached out and smacked the back of his head. Once the shorts were finally on, she began untying the thick straps of her dress. "Oh, you guys wanna hear something insane?"

"Hm?" The noise that left JJ sounded choked, as if it were a struggle to talk from his seat at the front. Josie glanced at the back of his head in confusion and noticed that he'd leaned forward to rest his head on the dashboard.

He weirdly looked like he was in pain.

She shook it off. "Max told me he loved me earlier. Didn't even think about it, just said it."

JJ's head whipped back toward her, and she gasped and scrambled to cover her half-naked chest. "JJ!" The boy immediately went scarlet, letting out a cough as he hastily turned to break his briefly lingering stare.

John B found the incident quite entertaining. He watched his usually smooth friend turn into a mumbling, awkward mess of apologies and coughs. The blond squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to deal with the thought of Josie casually undressing behind them.

John B suspected that JJ's face wasn't the only place his blood had rushed to after seeing Josie in that state.

Josie pulled the dress over her head and fixed her bra straps, before tugging JJ's brown Brixton shirt over her torso. She pulled her hair out of the collar and brought it into a ponytail with a hair tie fished from her bag. She shoved her dress into the chair behind John B, mentally reminding herself to grab it later.

Once she felt comfortable, she sighed and moved toward the front. Her elbows rested on the shoulders of both seats, and she curiously peered at both abnormally silent boys. "Did you not hear what I said? Where's the snide comment? Where's the pouting?"

She dramatically coughed, making her voice lower in a clear mockery of John B. "He's a fucking dickhead, Jose. What else can I say? You should dump his ass."

John B chuckled and shrugged sarcastically. "That about covers it. Did you tell him you love him?"

"No, it was really quick. He just blurted it out, and I was in too much shock to even process it." Josie tried her best to avoid making either boy aware of Max's hasty exit, as an unwarranted lecture was sure to come of it. But honestly, both boys seemed to be preoccupied with their own thoughts.

She narrowed her eyes at their suspicious silence, lightly weirded out by the lack of jokes at Max's expense. Her eyes darted back and forth between John B and JJ, resting on JJ in confusion.

JJ, however, thought of nothing but how to will the problem in his lap away. He summoned every thought he usually used to stop himself from arriving early, but none of it worked. All he could picture was the smooth, pale skin of Josie's collarbone. And how, if the dress had gone even an inch lower, he would've forever known what Josie's boobs looked like.

He wanted to die.

JJ's dilemma went otherwise unnoticed by Josie, who welcomed the lack of teasing on her boyfriend's behalf. She figured it'd be best to just take the win, so she shook her head. With a shrug, she sat back on the seat behind John B and silently watched the trees pass as they headed back to The Cut.

They passed a sign that read, Welcome To Tree Spirit, Your Reiki Head-Quarters, and Josie had to refrain from giggling. In a funny, comforting way, it reminded her of Kiara.

John B pulled into the driveway of the rundown home, and the three of them took in the view of the small pink building. It wasn't much different from most houses on that side of the island; small and overgrown, with years of haphazard maintenance to wear it down.

JJ shot a quick look back at Josie as the boys exited the car, and she rolled her eyes in response. Before she could argue, he pulled the sliding door open, and she crawled out to join them. The flush of his cheeks had started to simmer, but he still actively evaded eye contact.

As he shut the door behind her, she couldn't help but chuckle at his embarrassment. "Better to embrace it, JayJ, because that was the only time you'll ever see me like that."

She reached up and patted his cheek, before making her way toward John B. Said boy watched them with raised brows, sending Josie a knowing look. She shook her head in response, slapping his shoulder at the insinuation that what'd happened was anything other than a slip-up.

JJ brushed past toward the house, without looking back at the duo. John B and Josie followed, gazes dragging over the serene property. Josie could faintly make out the seabirds cawing from the marsh behind the house.

"You know what this house looks like?"

"Whoever lives here smokes too much weed," JJ concurred as he turned to John B. The duo behind JJ reenacted inhaling from a blunt, emphasizing that it did look like a druggie haven. Josie mimicked putting the blunt out on JJ's shoulder, and she giggled when he pretended to wipe it off.

The sound of loud clattering and smashing glass slowed their approach, and a sinking feeling settled in Josie's stomach. It could've just been Lana Grubbs; she knew that. But the gut feeling clawing its way through Josie's skin had her seriously considering every negative option her brain could come up with.

John B extended his hand to stop them, and JJ hesitantly looked at them both. "Maybe we should come back. It's a little too soon-"

"No, no, shut up. Shut up, JJ."

Josie stayed silent as she intently listened to ensure that it was just Lana Grubbs throwing things around. Maybe she'd been built up in her grief and needed to let it out by breaking stuff. Josie could sympathize with that.

That was quickly shut down the second a muffled voice yelled out from inside the house. "Tell me where it is, or I'll fuck you up! I'll sink you in the fucking-"

The woman inside let out a terrified gasp that had Josie bolting for the house, but both boys grabbed ahold of her as they pulled back. She could hear Lana yell out to whoever was in there that they were hurting her, and the redhead listened on in horror.

JJ stammered behind her as he considered turning and making an exit from the house. Josie could feel the discomfort radiating off of him. He'd never been good with arguments, especially physical ones.

But John B shot him down and faintly instructed them to follow him closer to the building. The shouts from inside were vulgar and extreme, drifting through the old, opened windows as the man terrorized the poor widow.

Josie followed close behind John B as he moved along the wall and under the windows. He went to peek in the window but was frantically pulled down by JJ. The two of them briefly bickered as they all slid up against the wall, listening to the woman inside sob uncontrollably.

"You still think we should stay?" JJ sardonically directed at John B.

Josie felt completely terrible, and her heart broke at the desperate sobs that filled the air. But what was she, as a seventeen-year-old girl with almost no fighting bone in her body, actually supposed to do?

She had to refrain from smacking John B upside the head. Why must he always drag them into something?

"The compass wasn't in the boat!" The guy inside repeatedly exclaimed as he slammed Lana against the wall. As he did so, the force caused the paint from the old shack walls to fall onto the teens' heads.

Josie's head gently fell back against the wall in anguish. Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured what they were doing to the poor lady—about what they might do to the three of them. She took a deep inhale, trying to calm her racing heart, but Lana's cries of despair only aided in the girl's overwhelming sadness. It was terrifying to consider that they might kill Lana Grubbs right behind her.

"Don't listen," JJ muttered from across John B, but how could she not?

More paint fell onto their heads. Josie quickly tried to wipe it off her hair, hands trembling in fear. The boys grimaced as they shook the pieces from their heads, and JJ's eyes drifted back up to the window. "Is that paint?"

"Yes, it's paint," John B scoffed in a whisper.

Josie picked at some of the remnants in her ponytail to distract herself from the cries inside the house. She watched John B rise to a stand beside her, her eyes wide as he peered in through the corner of the open window. She tugged at the back of his shirt to pull him down, but he swatted her hand away.

The man inside declared that they should leave, alerting Josie that there had, in fact, been multiple men in there. That only made her heart ache more for the wailing woman inside.

John B moved past JJ to peek around the side of the house. JJ stayed pressed against the wall as he did so. "We should go. He's got smuggler-"

Josie shushed him, gently pushing him to go ahead of her and follow John B to the corner he peeked from. JJ frantically glanced back and forth between them as he continued, "Smuggler written all over him."

John B quickly jumped back from the corner, and the three of them pressed against the wall in fear that he'd been seen. JJ grabbed Josie's arm beside him in panic, and John B commanded him to be quiet as the men made their leave just around the corner. In an effort to comfort her friend. Josie grabbed the hand on her arm and slid it down to grasp her hand instead.

The boys leaned forward to peer around the house again, eerily silent as their eyes never left the retreating men. Josie peeked over JJ's shoulder, and they all watched as the guys climbed into a boat parked at the dock.

Josie's breath hitched once she realized that she'd seen the boat before. Those were the same men who had chased them less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Guys, those are definitely the guys from the boat yesterday." Josie nodded her head toward the boat cranking up for emphasis. Alarm settled in her chest as she did so, subconsciously squeezing JJ's hand at the thought of them getting shot at.

After her confirmation, John B repeated for Josie to move, and he nudged JJ toward her as they scooted back under the window. They watched the boat peel away from the dock, and, once they were just far away enough, John B turned the corner toward the house's back porch.

JJ and Josie steadily followed right behind him. And as they stepped up onto the porch, Josie let her eyes wander past the open door inside the Grubbs' house. "Oh my god," she dreadfully let out.

The building had been ransacked. Torn apart in the search for the very compass John B was in possession of. She couldn't believe the state of the poor woman's house. As if dealing with her grief wasn't enough, she now had to deal with the destruction of her home. Furniture was flipped and knocked over, precious knickknacks and decorations were smashed all over the floor, and various fabrics were ripped up and thrown around.

"Ms. Lana?" John B called out cautiously as they entered the home.

They followed the soft sobs of pain toward the bedroom of the small building. As they walked through, Josie could see that they'd destroyed that room too.

Sitting on the floor of the adjoining bathroom was Lana Grubbs, holding her arms across her body protectively and heaving out rugged breaths. The bathroom was demolished similarly to the rest of the house, with the sink at a tilt that had Josie's stomach churning. What force had they used to do that?

"Ms. Lana." John B raced toward her and knelt down, gently grazing her shoulder as he checked on her. As soon as he did so, Lana jumped in surprise, despite the fact that he'd just called out to her. Her harsh breathing was labored as she stared at the boy who tried to reassure her.

JJ grabbed his shoulder. "Dude, she's tweakin', c'mon."

Josie hadn't noticed it until her best friend's statement, but she figured he knew more about what someone on drugs looked like than she did. She'd only ever seen her dad high a few times, whereas JJ had seen it at least once a week since he was eight.

However, she couldn't help but also consider that Lana was just distraught after being beaten and questioned for something she didn't have.

"Do you need a doctor?"

Josie moved around JJ to slowly kneel beside John B in the threshold of the bathroom. She reached out to gently grasp the sobbing woman's arm she'd crossed over her chest. "JJ, let's call the sheriff's department." She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, but he uncertainly stared down at her.

Lana was quick to refute her, grabbing the hand that held her arm as she pleaded. "No, no, no, no cops. Please."

"Mmm, that's not good. C'mon guys. Let's just go." JJ leaned down to remove Lana Grubb's hold on Josie's hand, but the redhead gently brushed him away.

She turned back to the widow and leaned closer to softly mutter her words. "Okay, okay. We won't call them."

"You shouldn't be here," she declared through sobs as she shook her head. Josie's brows furrowed in confusion but, nevertheless, she continued to try and comfort the woman. She used her free hand to rub soothing patterns on the hand Lana used to grasp her other one.

"That's enough for me. Jose, let go of her arm." JJ went to turn away, but John B grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Hold on. Wait, wait." He turned back toward the woman, whose tears dripped onto Josie's hands. "What do you know about these guys?" He gently asked.

"They were looking for something," she explained, her voice weak as she shook her head.

Josie squeezed her hand reassuringly and gave a gentle nod. Her own tears threatened to make their way past her waterline, and she had to turn and rub them off on the shoulder of her shirt. Guilt weighed heavily in her heart, given that they were the indirect reason Lana was injured and her house was ruined.

John B dug around in his pocket and pulled out the compass as he spoke to her. "Does it have anything to do with this?"

The woman's cries ceased as her gaze caught the item in John B's hand. She stared down at the compass, shocked at the discovery of its actual whereabouts.

"Do you know anything about this?"

The woman slowly shook her head, and Josie watched the fear build in her eyes. She figured the questions were overwhelming, but Josie couldn't fault John B's refusal to give up. "This is my father's, and Scooter had it."

She shook her head again, but it was ignored by John B. "Why?"

Lana quickly glanced back over to Josie, who once again offered a reassuring nod and gentle smile as she squeezed her arm and hand. Lana continued to shake her head and look back and forth between the two of them. "Scooter didn't have it, okay? Don't tell anyone that you have that," she sternly demanded.

Her grip on Josie's hand grew tight. Lana's nails clawing into her skin stung, and Josie let out a small hiss of pain. JJ instantly noticed and quickly decided to put his foot down.

As John B questioned Lana's adamance toward their secrecy, JJ pulled at his friends' shoulders. "Guys, come on."

Lana continued to cry out that they couldn't know about the compass, and her grip further tightened on Josie's hand.

"We gotta go." JJ bent down over Josie to roughly tear away Lana's grip. He all-but-dragged Josie to her feet, as the woman wailed that they had to leave while John B continued to question her. JJ then grasped at John B and pulled him away from Lana. "C'mon, we gotta go. Let's go. Let's go."

Lana continued shouting at them that they had to get out as John B finally made his way to his feet. Once he'd stood, the three of them briskly made their way out of the home.

Josie continuously looked back at the house as she walked, eyes heavy with pity as the woman's cries continued. But JJ's hand insistently stayed on her back as he guided her off the porch and back around toward the Twinkie. She rubbed the marks on her hand, slightly wincing at the very faint amount of blood that broke through the skin.

Once they were at the side of the van, JJ pulled her hand away from her own grasp. His jaw clenched as he examined the crescent marks and traced them with his thumb. "You okay? She got you pretty good."

Josie rubbed his wrist with her uninjured hand. "It's fine, JayJ, just a little blood." His eyes were firm as they took in the intrusions, and Josie could easily pick his mind. Her pain had always made him uncomfortable, given his history. It was in his nature to be protective.

To take his mind away from it, she poked his nose with her free hand and nodded toward the van. "C'mon, I think it's time we round up the other two."

JJ nodded, although it seemed like there was more he wanted to say. They both knew how hard it was for her to witness someone in Lana's state, but she was grateful that he wouldn't push if she didn't want to talk about it.

Eventually, he let out a breath and opened the back door for her, intensely watching her climb in as if she were a precious piece of glass. Once he was sure she was settled, he shut the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

Still, he didn't miss the way she held her hand to her chest, deep in thought.

☼

The pogues gathered around on the screen porch of the Chateau a short while later, all five of them in attendance, as they discussed what happened at Lana's house. The trio who'd witnessed it barely had the time to digest and decide how to cope with what they'd seen.

John B had not stopped thinking about why Lana was so adamant on keeping the compass a secret. Josie had spent most of the time grateful that they were fine and trying to assure herself they'd done the right thing. And JJ had sent himself into a frenzied state of exhausted panic.

Safe to say, they were all a bit rattled by what had happened.

They all listened as JJ animatedly paced around the porch and told Kie and Pope everything he could remember, breathing heavily as if he were back at the house.

"And we were right outside like this-" He pushed up against the brick chimney to mime how they'd hidden under the window. "And all we hear is just, Bam! Bam! Bam! Knockin' paint off the wall, G! From the inside, alright? And I'm just looking at them, like-" He cut himself off.

"Wait, first off, look at this shit." He marched toward them and bent down to run his fingers through his hair. Paint chips fell from the golden strands. "From the house."

Kie looked at him, repulsed, as he shook out his hair. "That's dandruff, disgusting."

"Okay, thank you," Pope retorted sarcastically, getting the brunt of it on his lap as JJ brushed his head. He pushed the blond away from him.

"Look at all that, alright? That's paint," he heavily emphasized, matter-of-factly. "At that point, I was just like...I'm waiting for death." He pointed at Josie, who sat on the arm of the couch next to Pope, and John B, who stood behind Kiara.

Pope leaned into his hands, trying to make sense of his obviously panic-stricken friend's explanation. "O-okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right?"

"Yeah," JJ breathlessly confirmed as he paced in his spot.

"Uh, did you get a good description of them? What'd they look like?"

"Yeah, anything. Anything's helpful," Kie chimed. Josie clicked from the side of her mouth as she struggled to recall specific details. She couldn't remember what they'd looked like to save her life.

If only she hadn't dropped her camera in the marsh.

"Anything we can bring to, like, a police report, maybe?" The duo turned to address all three of their friends, and Pope motioned toward Josie. "Jose, you saw them through the camera, right? You remember?"

Josie scrunched her face in shame, shaking her head to admit that she hadn't retained anything of significance. To be fair, it's been an incredibly hectic twenty-four hours. They'd almost died quite a bit, so she figured her memory might be a little fuzzy.

JJ shook his head as he tried to remember. "Burly," he weakly offered as he pointed to Pope.

The genius stared at him in disbelief. "Burly?"

"Yeah. Y'know like-" He puffed his chest and bent his arms to make his shoulders look wider. Josie snickered at the fact that he'd also puffed out his cheeks.

"That's not very helpful," Kie sighed. She leaned her face into her hands, bewildered at her friends' lack of observational skills.

"Okay, well, no, like the type of guys at my dad's garage. I mean, you guys know, he made cargo hides for drug smugglers."

Josie bristled at the mention of Luke.

"Yeah. Yes. No, we know," Kiara reasoned, assuring him like he was a child defending himself to his parents.

"Alright! So, then, I can tell you with full confidence, guys." He leaned against his chimney and pulled his weed pen from his shirt pocket, heavily breathing as he tried to come down from his distress. "These boys, these killers..." He took a deep hit and blew the smoke from his nose and mouth. "They're square groupers." He nodded in finality, and Josie and John B followed in their agreement.

"They're square-groupers, like narco square-groupers?" Pope skeptically glanced up at Josie and distastefully sighed when he saw the concurrent look on her face. He turned back to JJ. "Like Pablo Escobar square-grouper?"

JJ nodded as he took another hit. "Yeah, man."

"You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie." Kiara's statement caused JJ to stare at her in disbelief. He looked away, clearly frustrated that neither of the absent duo believed him.

"Okay, so what does a square-grouper look like, specifically?" Pope continued to argue, sarcasm evident as he implied that JJ was out of his mind.

"You weren't there, bro!" JJ interrupted as he turned to directly address Pope.

Pope promptly ignored him. "Because apparently, you don't know what to look for!"

"Dude! I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the entire time, man, I was under duress! Okay?" JJ backed away, releasing small voice cracks as he exclaimed that he'd practically been forced to follow his friends.

Josie pursed her lips and sympathetically gazed at him, watching her best friend defend himself in his frenzy. Pope, on the other hand, incredulously stared as he leaned back against the side of Josie's thigh.

"But I can tell you-" JJ paused and tried to calm his irregulated breathing and gather his thoughts. "I can tell you by the way that Ms. Lana was screaming..." Josie's eyes shut at the memory of the wailing woman. She felt Kiara's hand reach out to rest on her thigh. "That these guys are serious, serious hombres, man."

John B removed the compass from his pocket and opened it, a silent understanding that it was the very thing a woman had gotten beaten over.

"It's a heavy vibe right now, okay? Jose is all shaken up, and I'm not liking this very much."

"Okay, why would they want the compass?" Kiara questioned, poking holes in the claim that someone would destroy the Grubbs' home over some antique. John B moved beside Josie as JJ returned to his spot at the chimney and took another puff of his pen.

"That thing is a piece of shit. You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to." Pope paused, eyes hesitantly drifting up to John B. "No offense, John B. I know it's like, in your family-"

"The office," John B interrupted. He looked around them as the compass sat open in his palm. They stared back at him, confused, unsure if he was talking to them or just thinking out loud.

"What?"

"My dad. My dad's office." He made his way past the group and to the side door. They shared puzzled looks, before standing to follow him into the house as he spoke. "He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. I mean, we used to laugh at him all the time about it like he was actually gonna find it. But now that he's gone, I've just kinda..."

They approached the one door that had always stayed firmly shut. Josie was certain she'd almost never seen the door open.

"I just left it, as he kept it."

"Yeah, for when he gets back," Kie affirmed.

John B agreed as he took out his keychain to unlock the door's padlock. The girls glared at the boys when they shook their heads at the sentiment, forcing them to bite their tongues from making a smart remark about his father being lost at sea.

As John B opened the door and they all moved into the room, Josie could've sworn the pearly gates opened up and angels sang from above. She wasn't religious, but she couldn't help the belief that the sight in front of her was what heaven would look like if she ever made it. She'd never been in the office, and she silently cursed Big John for never letting her see it.

The room was a historical gold mine. Specifically, a pirate history gold mine.

Josie gasped and raced to every corner of the room as she took in the pictures, knickknacks, drawings, and books full of pirate history. She tried to be respectful of Big John's things, really, but she couldn't help it as her fingers traced over the spines of books with varying familiar and unfamiliar titles. Enemy of All Mankind, Black Flags Blue Waters, The Republic of Pirates, Captain Kidd—the list was endless.

Treasure maps were splayed out, folded and unfolded, on every surface. Some detailed the Royal Merchant; others displayed theories of other treasures. Josie subconsciously semi-blocked out her friends' discussion as her eyes combed through the writings and scribbles that decorated the papers. Thoughts on Sir Francis Drake's death, Billy the Kidd's Caribbean treasure, and many other famed legends. But there was one, of course, that particularly stood out to her.

Captain Henry Avery and his missing treasure.

The Life and Legacy of Henry Avery sat on the desk, an anchor of Josie's attention. It was a book she'd read maybe a hundred times, cover-to-cover, since she was eight years old. The source of all her dreams of sword fighting and gold finding. The reason she'd spent her childhood forcing her friends to walk the plank, was lying haphazardly on that desk. And there under it, a map of the St. Dismas Cathedral campus was sprawled out with notes jotted along the edges. And clear as day, she saw the words scribbled in the ocean of the map.

Riches of Paradise.

Once again, it was like angels singing. There was a chorus in the back of her mind, gorgeous melodies filling her senses as she stared at the words. A faint glow of golden light seemed to shine at her from the letters on the page. Did John B's dad know about the rumors of Libertalia? Had he been searching for the treasure in the hopes of finding the lost city?

They'd spoken about the treasure many times in passing, so why wasn't she made aware of his research?

Slowly, her hand reached for the map. The light from the letters seemingly grew to touch the tips of her fingers, a warm sensation flooding through her skin and heating all the way to the depths of her soul. She yearned to trace her fingers along the scrambled letters and feel the connection to her lifelong dream.

Then, came the clearing of someone's throat.

She flinched and glanced up to see John B staring at her strangely. Fully turning, she saw that everyone had taken to staring at her.

She cleared her throat as well and reeled back from the paper, scratching the back of her neck. "Right...so, Pope said something about a death compass?"

Pope rolled his eyes at her obvious redirect, but John B nodded and grabbed a piece of paper from the desk. He laid it on the center surface in front of Pope.

JJ smirked at Josie, raising his brows as he motioned toward the paper she'd been entranced with. She shook her head and turned her back on it, acting as if she hadn't just felt like she'd almost been pulled through the parchment. She tried to shake the doubts and questions from her mind, ignoring the hum in the back of her head.

JJ looked at her doubtfully, informing her that he didn't buy her nonchalant act for a second. He was well aware that she was in heaven surrounded by Big John's things.

"How can you concentrate with that thing constantly crowing at you?" Pope complained about the continuous noises from John B's chicken coop, jotting down Redfield to see if he could decipher the anagram. JJ moved to lean over his shoulder and chime in if need be.

"JJ and Jose love the rooster."

"I named him Tewey, after Thomas Tew." Josie smiled at Pope, who rolled his eyes at her predictability.

JJ shot a smile at her over his shoulder and nodded his head. He'd been delighted with the name she'd come up with, and he'd immediately informed John B that the animal had been renamed and that he couldn't argue.

"Okay, let me think..."

Pope began spewing down different combinations of the name, the pogues chiming in with their support or ideas. "Dedfiel. Colors—no, that's stupid."

"What about, like, Ritalin?" JJ's offer made Josie smile, the irony of him mentioning attention deficit medicine not lost on her.

"Dreidel? Fiddler?"

Josie curiously looked over at Kiara. "Like fiddler on the roof?" The youngest pogue shrugged in response.

"Defile. Does that mean anything to anyone?" Pope directed at them, and Josie shook her head.

Nothing other than its literal definition.

"I think you're missing a few letters." Pope narrowed his eyes at Josie's smart remark, opening his mouth to retort, when he was interrupted.

"Guys! Somebody's here!" John B snapped.

Their attention abruptly moved to the window as an unfamiliar truck pulled into the driveway. Everyone gathered around it and watched as the two guys exited the vehicle, approaching the Chateau. Immediately, the air in the room shifted.

Kie tapped Josie's arm. "Guys, guys, is that them?"

Josie's heart sank once she realized it was, in fact, the men from the boat and the house. JJ voiced her thoughts in his pleas for it to be untrue. "No, no."

"Is that them?" Kie repeated her question and looked to Josie for confirmation.

The redhead brought her hand to her forehead and rubbed her temples, panic setting in as they disappeared from the window's view. She could hear Pope and JJ behind her, but their voices were muffled by the sudden ringing in her ears that built from her anxiety.

Were they really about to die again?

"John B, I told you, man. Why does it always-"

John B paced after JJ. "Hey, hey, look at me." He firmly turned the blond to face him and shoved him into the wall as he placed a finger to his mouth. "Where's the gun?"

JJ played like he didn't understand what John B was asking. Not out of sarcasm or malice, but out of the fact that he didn't want to admit that he actually didn't have the weapon. "Gun? I, uh, I can't-"

"Now you don't have the gun, the one time we need the gun?" Kie asked with a quiver in her voice, fear building at the confirmation that they were all about to die.

Josie could feel her breathing grow heavy with panic, and she tried to look around for something they could defend themselves with. They could rip off the leg of the chair, like people did in vampire shows when they made wooden stakes. But realistically, they'd probably be shot before they could make it close enough to stab the guys.

JJ closed his eyes and thought out loud. "It was in my backpack."

John B hit his chest and nodded in agreement. "Your backpack."

"And then I..."

"On the porch," John B concluded.

"It's on the porch," JJ confirmed, already making his way toward the door to go out for the bag.

Josie immediately lunged in his direction, letting out a "no" and reaching her hand out to grab at his shirt. But John B held her back as JJ raced out of the door. "Let him go, let him go."

"He's gonna get fucking shot at, John B," Josie hissed. She glared up at her friend as he moved to stand in front of her, his back toward the door. He returned the glare to demand she refrain from following, and she reluctantly relented.

She pulled herself from his grasp and backed away. Huffing, she brought her index finger to her mouth and chewed down on her fingernail as she waited for her best friend's fate.

It was only moments before she heard the shout of John B's name. JJ stumbled to swiftly turn around and bolt straight back into the office, closing the door behind him. She immediately went to reach for him again when Kie tugged Josie to her side, intertwining their hands and leading her further away from the door.

Josie kept her eyes trained on JJ as the boys crowded around the door and listened to the shout from outside. "They're on the front porch, guys."

The taunts moved from the outer part of the house to the inside, meaning that they'd crossed the threshold and were close to finding them. Josie exhaled in terror and glanced around again to concoct any ideas to escape, when a sudden crash of glass came from outside the room.

"Guys, window. Window," Kie pointed the boys toward the window on the other side of the room. She dragged Josie with her, while Pope and JJ ran to pull it open.

As they shuffled near them, Josie noticed the tears that built up in her waterline and blurred her vision. She blinked them away, concern building at the struggle and the amount of time it was taking the boys to jimmy the window open.

"What-What's happening? Why's it taking so long?" Josie worriedly inquired, and JJ turned to glance at the tears streaming down her face.

"It's painted shut, okay?" JJ's frustrated hiss didn't offend her, understanding that he was under quite a bit of pressure.

Kie let go of Josie to maneuver toward Big John's desk. Josie subconsciously moved behind JJ and faced the door, afraid but prepared to take the brunt of an attack should she need to. She made eye contact with John B's terrified gaze as he stood against the door, and he tried to give her the best reassuring look he could muster.

They both knew it was forced.

"Okay, guys. Guys. Here, I got it." Kie made her way back over to them, leaning in between the boys to slice the envelope-opener across the paint on the window. Josie continued to bite her nail and stare, her heartbeat jumping every time she heard something break outside the room or a taunt was called out.

"C'mon. C'mon," JJ repeatedly rushed Kiara. His shoulder brushed Josie's as they watched Kie cut the window.

"I'm going as fast as I can," she hissed. Both John B and Pope, who'd moved to join him at the door, desperately hushed her as they noticed the slow approach of footsteps outside the door.

Josie gasped when the door suddenly jolted forward with force, and both boys pushed back against it as a voice called out from the other side. Large tears ran down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth as she tried to steady her shaking hands. The taste of salt made her stomach churn.

Kie rushed away from the window once she was done, hitting JJ on the shoulder, and he was quick to move forward and lift the glass to immediately crawl out. He turned back and motioned toward himself with both hands. "Okay, okay. Jose, you first, c'mon."

She scrambled through the window with JJ's guidance, his grip on her arms firm as he pulled her out. Once she was on the ground, he joined her fingers with his and pulled her along with him. She turned to make sure all of the other pogues clambered out and followed the duo as the men pounded against the door.

As he led the group, JJ herded them toward the chicken coop.

Josie didn't even have time to think or process the gunshot from the house as she followed him. She could only feel the fat, wet tears cascading down her rosy cheeks. And JJ, ever her saint, rubbed his thumb soothingly over her hand as he practically shoved her into the coop in front of him.

As soon as they were inside, Josie crammed herself against the wall, with JJ moving to press closely into her right side. Almost like he'd known that she didn't want to be left on the end. Kie and John B squeezed in right behind them, sitting against the wall adjacent to her left. Pope squeezed his way to sit across from Josie.

Josie tried to control her frantic breaths as John B peeked through the patch of chicken wire in between the wood. He silently watched as the smugglers carried everything from Big John's office into their truck. Josie grew nauseous at the thought of what they'd do to the teens if they found them. She helplessly hid her cries in her and JJ's conjoined hands, the coolness of his rings pressed against her lips. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned into them.

The smugglers' eyes shifted to the chicken coop every few seconds at the loud crowing from Tewey, and Josie softly begged the rooster to quiet down through her tears.

"Do something, Pope," JJ hissed as he shot concerned glances at Josie. "Shut that thing up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pet him or something. I don't know," Kie quietly offered through tears as she motioned toward the animal.

"Talk to him, anything," Josie whisper-cried as her fingers twisted in the hem of JJ's shirt that she wore. She knew she couldn't move toward the rooster; it would cause too much commotion. But Pope's hesitant and fearful coos toward the rooster were less-than-reassuring as the animal continued to make noise.

The sound of a tailgate loudly slamming echoed through the coop, and Josie immediately flinched to lean in between her lifted knees. She reached out to her left and blindly grabbed for Kiara. The brunette clasped their hands together, squeezing tightly for comfort as they both let out quiet, wet, throaty sounds of fear.

"I love you guys," Josie lowly mumbled, unsure if they could hear her over the rooster. She tightened the grip she had on her friend, begging whatever God there might be to spare them. She also couldn't help but think about all the things she would miss out on.

"Jose, don't look up," JJ hissed out.

She only had a second to follow through and keep her eyes closed as JJ released her hand, leaned forward, and grabbed at the animal's throat. She shoved her head further into her knees, squeezing her eyes tightly to avoid the sight of JJ snapping Tewey's neck.

JJ's jaw clenched as he finished and leaned away. He settled back against Josie's right side, sliding one arm around her shoulder and another around her knees. She moved to bury her face in his neck and muffle her sob, mourning the loss of the innocent pet. As she tucked her face further into him, he leaned his head down to rest on hers. She could make out the small apologies falling from his lips, so soft that she was convinced they were inaudible to others.

He pressed a kiss to her head; all he could do to comfort her in that moment. Her right hand's nails dug into his thigh, and her other was still grasped in a crying Kiara's. In any other circumstance, she would've been severely uncomfortable in the way she was positioned. But there was no time to care about that when all she sought was the comfort of her loved ones.

She hated death. She'd been terrified for all of her friends, and she was petrified of the men who'd threatened their lives. And there was nothing she could've done to make it better. All she could do was listen as the men got into their truck and drifted further away down the dirt driveway.

She pulled her favorite person close, even after John B had confirmed that the men had gone. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to face the reality of what was happening to them.

⋄ ⋟⋆ june 20, 2020

swallowed in fear as I grasped at what semblance of loyalty and nurture I could. I thought about the fact that I had now faced death with terror thrice in my life. once in childhood, once on the boat, and once sitting in the company of clucks and tears. as my mind wept for those around me, I also couldn't help but think about all the things I'd done for the last time. there was a last time my mother rubbed the skin along my arm, and there was a last time I heard my sister laugh. there was a last time I saw the form of my father, and there was a last time I felt nurture's soothing touch. there was a last time I heard someone tell me they loved me. there was a last time the sound of love graced my ears. but then, it wasn't the last time. we survived. I am grateful it was not yet the last time.

- josephine grey ⋄ ⋟⋆

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cloudselkie · 2 years

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Fuck, today was weird. So, I woke up at 4am because my weather radio went off for a tornado watch. Okay, whatever, so I tried to go back to sleep. Except I WASN'T actually expecting a tornado watch, so I was reasonably freaked out and only dozed. Until 6:30 AM when my boyfriend's "wake up bitch!" alarm went off. Which I normally just roll over and go back to sleep for, BUT. Knowing there was a fucking TORNADO WATCH in effect, I rolled over and checked my phone and saw there were already two goddamned tornado warnings west of us. Okay, so I'm regretting praying to Jupiter to make today's weather interesting. But no biggie. I don't know anyone in north Parker county or Wise county. So I open the NBC5 DFW app and let live coverage play while I attempt to go back to sleep until my 7:50 alarm (because what person who works from home doesn't roll out of bed ten minutes before it's time to clock in). BUT. AT exactly 6:57 AM, a storm in Palo Pinto county decideds "Okay bitch, time to drop a motherfuckin' tornado." And proceeds to do so. Like a cunt. So as NBC 5 covers this, I hear that a new tornado warning has been issued for where my parents live. I immediately call my mom and make sure they are sheltering. Then I call my little brother and little sister to make sure they know our parents could be in danger. Also, my brother would have been driving into the storm to go to work, but he decides not to. Which is great, because this storm dies down for a bit, but then pulses back two miles from his place. The same warning that is places for him also covers us, and we get a fucking TORNADO WARNING, and the sirens start going off, all

It's about 8:15 and I am thoroughly freaked out. I tell my work team I have to shelter in place, get my boyfriend and the cats ready and hunker down.

Luckily, the rotation cuts through far north Tarrant county and leaves use on the middle east side in the clear, with just a lot of lightning and thunder.

The storms keep going and threaten other team members and friends in northeast DFW, but everyone ends up okay. I'm not really able to focus the rest of the day, but that's okay, right?

So after work, I go and grab some wine because who wouldn't want to relax after a day like this?

Except after I get back, my boyfriend wants to play Pokemon SV with a good friend of his.

I get drunk on wine, go to the bathroom, only to find out there is a building wide issue with flushing the toilet. I proceed to flood the bathroom while I watch in drunken shock as my boyfriend tries to clean it up with towels. We call the complex emergency line and tell them to come fix their shit. Which the do, and I am saved from having to pee in the shower.

Finally, by 10 pm, it's resolved and I am able to go to work bed.

But for real. Fuck Dec. 13th.

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geek-fashionista · 1 year

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Weather got a bit crazy over here yesterday. A tornado touched down ~20 minutes south of where I live. At work, we all got phone alerts screeching about baseball sized hail (but didn’t actually experience baseball sized hail). Everyone came by our cubicles to gawk out the windows at the torrential rainfall and much more agreeable pea-sized hail.

And then the tornado sirens went off in town so we were ushered into the vague “building interior” which quickly revealed that nobody here knows what to do in a tornado because we were all standing around glass.

Being a weather nerd, I checked the doppler radar and confirmed there was no rotation in our area (the tornado alarms were set off to warn people about the destructive hail). Someone else had just returned from driving through the storm and showed a video of the hail cracking her windshield.

We all continued to cluster around the second least safe part of campus until I checked the radar again, looked out at the clearing weather, and went back to my desk. And then we got an alert from the school about the weather. Twenty minutes after it was relevant.

All that to say if the tornado had touched down here and been stronger than what looks like EF1 damage, a bunch of people would have gotten hurt. The other side of campus has a basement level. But to get to the other side of campus, one needs to cross a glass bridge. If anything, we all should have been sheltering in the nearby bathrooms, which are centralized and free of windows.

I wasn’t worried because I knew we weren’t in danger. But I am worried that the rarity of tornadoes in this area has made people lax about weather safety, and someday that’s going to come back and bite them in the rear end.

Take weather seriously, guys. Know what to do in the event of a natural disaster. Make an evacuation plan. Run drills with your family. Choose meeting places and emergency contacts. Stock up on supplies.

Just because it happens rarely doesn’t mean it won’t happen ever.

#life #text #I was texting my husband and friends in town for details #my friend sent a pic of the green sky #What a wild hour that was #then the sun came out and everything looked Howl’s Moving Castle picturesque #the audacity

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doveghost · 5 months

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Hi sorry I was scrolling the tags and saw ur post and I FINALLY found someone else who also hallucinates tornado/air raid sirens!!! They're my most common one lol.

I also worry abt the 'what if it was a real tornado and i just won't know' (although in my case I worry more about nukes bc I've always lived closer to nuclear plants than in tornado alley lol)

Glad to know I'm not the only one! I started hearing them after one summer where we got tornado warnings like two or three times.

There are a couple ways I can tell it's just a hallucination, though. If other people don't hear it or react to it, and if your phone doesn't go off (because during real tornado warnings, my phone had an alarm like an amber alert).

And it's less scary when the last real tornado in your area was more than 50 years ago

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angryisokay · 7 months

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HMMMMMM.

Storm has moved passed the house, and that makes it a lot easier to hear the tornado sirens [and all the outdoor dogs in the area]. BUT the phones haven't gone off, and there's no report of a tornado, it's just a county wide warning.

Warning it active for another 35 minutes.

Do I wake husband up several hours earlier than his usual wake up time for what is very likely a false alarm?

#i think i will wait until a tornado has been detected....

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breakerwhiskey · 9 months

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124 - ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Okay, laying everything out for myself, part two. I got so distracted the other day with all the Birdie bullshit that I didn’t even think about the stuff I do know because I’ve experienced it. Once again, seeing my world through the lens of someone else instead of just fucking trusting my own instincts.

I’m going to try to go through anything and everything that’s felt slightly off or unusual, no matter how small or inconsequential.

So, let’s start small. The dog in Kansas. Stray dogs are one thing, but that one looked so well loved. So clean. But Kansas was so empty—felt like one of the emptier states I’ve been to—and I looked. I tried to find the dog, to see where it lived, to see if anyone was there taking care of it and came up with nothing.

Speaking of Kansas, the tornado. The tornado isn’t weird in of itself—Kansas gets tornadoes—but the alarm…there wasn’t very much power in Kansas. And I’m not sure how those sirens work, but presumably they’re on some kind of grid, which would suggest that I would’ve seen some kind of power on somewhere, but there wasn’t. So another case of phantom power? A grid for just the warning system that didn’t power anything visible? I have too many questions about it.

Vegas had a lot of power, so the fire alarm going off makes a little bit more sense to me, especially since a fire alarm system is contained within one building. But was there even any fire? That’s the question—did the alarm just get tripped somehow, with a power surge or by something else…by someone else.

Power in general! It doesn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason why sometimes it’s on and sometimes it’s not. A jukebox playing music, but no power on the electric stovetop. Like someone bothered to fix the wiring just to play music but not eat.

Maybe I’m putting personification where there is none but it’s…weird. It’s all weird.

Then there’s all the lack of evidence—the lack of damage, the fact that stores are still well stocked instead of picked over…all the cars just left abandoned even though they’re all full of gas and perfectly fine as far as I can tell, beyond the wear and tear that happens when a car is left to the elements for years on end.

Harry trying to contact me. That’s maybe not evidence of anything important but, um, it still feels…noteworthy.

And finally, the big one—the Stanley Hotel. There were so many weird things. No power but my radio turned on. That feeling of dread. Seeing that…vision.

A man. An ordinary man. Who could he have been? What could he have been? Was he really seeing me?

I’ve been thinking about nuclear shadows. Apparently, when you drop a nuclear bomb, the blast bleaches everything, that’s how strong the light from the explosion is. So when something—or someone—is in the way of that light, their shadow doesn’t get lightened. The shape of them is left behind, so they say.

Sometimes I feel like that. Like I’m a blast shadow of my former self. Maybe that’s what he was too. Some kind of…remnant. Echo. Of some time before the blast.

[click, static]

I don’t know, none of it makes sense. I can write it all down in ink and still can’t read what any of the words mean put together.

[click, static]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

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prayedtoyou · 3 years

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the weather, hmm……. something something demonic omens

#i live in one of the cities with a tornado warning and ooh boy am i having fun #the siren is like a mile away from my apartment so it’s super loud #not to mention the tornado warning alarms going off on my phone #anyway five tornados are heading my way ✌🏻#this weather is out to get something #personal

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netheritenugget · 3 years

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I headcanon that Pandora's Vault's prisoner escape alarm sounds like those creepy-ass tornado warning sirens.

youtube

If this shit isn't the alarm that tells the server that the world's most dangerous person has escaped prison, IDK what the point of having an alarm is.

#Youtube

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

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hear those bells ring: chapter 2 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Reader has to deal with the aftermath of Dynamight exploding through her window and trying to bleed out on her floor.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Here’s chapter two, hope you enjoy! ~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

AO3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Chaos. You intellectually knew the word, in several languages in fact, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the reality of it.

Information assaulted your senses in a deluge. The gust of cold air whistling through the broken window, raking icy fingers down your exposed arms. The bright flare of flames, even behind your clenched eyelids. The dissonant, haunting wails of several car alarms, each one just a second out of sync with the next, barely audible over the loud ringing in your ears. The taste of ash, gritty on your tongue as you sucked in heaving, panting breaths. The sharp smell of smoke and something… sweeter. Like caramelizing sugar.

The sweet scent, incongruous with every other heinous detail, seemed to snap you fully back into your body, and your eyes flew open with a gasp.

You were curled up in a tight ball below your now broken window, and you gaped at your ruined apartment. The lights were out, so the only illumination you had to see by were the flames behind you on the street, but it was enough.

It looked like a tornado had torn through your home. The remnants of your window and wall—broken bits of glass, wood, and plaster—covered everything in sight in a fine layer of white dust. Your sewing desk/kitchen table was in splinters, and even with the dancing shadows, you had the distant thought that the dress you’d just finished mending was most definitely ruined.

Then someone shouted outside on the street, and you felt it like a sledgehammer to the skull.

Oh, god. The villain. The heroes.

You scrambled up onto your knees, hissing when shards of glass tore through your sweatpants and bit into your skin. You’d worry about that later. For now, you focused on getting to your feet…

And not falling out of the gaping hole in your apartment wall.

You stumbled back a few steps from the edge, stabilizing yourself on one of your kitchen chairs that seemed to have survived the blast. The smoke was thicker now that you were off the floor, and you coughed and squinted against the hot, irritating air.

The street in front of you was a warzone.

The windows in the building across from you were all blown out, the empty frames like black gaping voids. The building housed a café/tea shop owned by Mr. and Mrs. Yamato, and you felt a small modicum of relief at the knowledge that they didn’t live above the shop like you did with yours. They lived in a neighborhood not too far away, and they wouldn’t be happy when they came to open in the morning, but at least they were safe.

Safe…

“Mr. Takeyoshi!” you gasped as you remembered your neighbor. He’d been standing on the street and nearly attacked by the villain, but a blond hero had pushed the middle-aged man out of the way.

Your eyes scoured the street as you leaned forward as much as you dared, and just as your heart was beginning to clench, you spotted him. Mr. Takeyoshi was sitting on the curb across the street and about four storefronts down, hunched over with his head in his hands. Two heroes stood above him and seemed to be tending to him, and all three of the men looked whole for the most part.

“God.” You exhaled shakily, your heart still stuttering in your chest, and then movement in your peripherals caught your attention.

One hero seemed to possess a water quirk, and she was quickly working to spray down the numerous small fires still flickering up and down the road. As you watched her work, you realized the street wasn’t as badly demolished as you first assumed. It was still pretty wrecked—all of the asphalt was cracked and even just missing in some places—but aside from broken windows, the rest of the shops seemed mostly intact. The worst of the damage was centered just in front of your apartment, and as your gaze flickered over the large crater in front of you, you saw another two heroes dragging a third body out of the pit.

The villain.

The hero with the water quirk paused in spraying down the smoking remains of a car and turned to shout something at the other heroes. You couldn’t hear what she said over the persistent ringing in your hears, and you frowned as you focused your own quirk toward your ears.

In your hopped-up-on-adrenaline state, you didn’t even notice the energy dip, and a moment later, your hearing returned with a loud pop. Thankfully, all of the car alarms seemed to have been cut, so you could hear the heroes pretty well.

“—still alive,” a tall hero in a red and purple suit said. You didn’t recognize him. “He’s pretty beat up, but he’ll make it.”

“Great,” the water quirk hero sighed. “Let him be the cops’ problem now.”

As if on cue, you could hear a siren start up in the distant, slowly moving closer.

The threat was over. The villain was neutralized, the fires put out, and the authorities were on the way.

So… why did you feel so on edge, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop?

“—fuckin’ Dynamight,” one of the heroes suddenly spat and drew you out of your thoughts.

You frowned in confusion as the words registered. Dynamight… why did that sound familiar?

Then your eyes widened as you remembered the blond hero, literally exploding onto the scene. His face—snarling and illuminated by the white-hot flare of his quirk—flashed in your mind’s eye, and you dropped your gaze back down to the street below.

Dynamight, Japan’s Number Two Hero. You couldn’t believe he had been the one to turn up and save you.

Well, not you specifically. Your neighborhood.

You’d seen the ash-blond on television before. Usually, the media just liked to harp on his crude language or brash attitude, but you’d seen this one story of how he had saved every single person from a collapsed building. A teary blonde gushing about Dynamight rescuing her had gone briefly viral, but the clip that stuck with you was when a reporter asked the pro hero why he decided to go into the unstable building without any reinforcements.

The blond had scowled into the camera, sweat and dirt still streaked across his pale face, his scarlet eyes flashing from beneath his black mask.

“What was I supposed to do?” he scoffed. “Leave them in there and sit with my thumbs up my ass while the fire department takes their sweet fuckin’ time? Don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Of course, the media had another field day with that response, but… something about it struck you as incredibly genuine. Yeah, the pro hero could have phrased it better, but the core of what he was saying was he couldn’t sit back when people were in trouble, no matter the risks.

You had thought that very brave.

And now you’d witnessed his bravery first hand. You weren’t confident—or really self-centered enough—to go down and thank him for what he’d done, but you thought you would just be satisfied with seeing him from afar now that things weren’t so dire.

But, the longer you looked, the more the pit grew in your stomach.

You couldn’t see the blond hero anywhere. He wasn’t with Mr. Takeyoshi, still hunched over on the curb. He wasn’t with the two heroes who were trying to establish a perimeter and keep out the arriving crowd of spectators. And he wasn’t with the other heroes standing watch over the unconscious villain laid out on the sidewalk.

The rest of the heroes seemed to be arriving at the same conclusions as you. You could hear Dynamight’s name being thrown about, and then the heroes were splitting up, taking different sides of the street, peeking into broken windows.

You wrung your hands as you watched them search from your apartment. No one had noticed you standing there yet, and you were just contemplating going downstairs to try and help in some way when a noise caught your attention.

In the grand scheme of things, the noise wasn’t very loud, especially given the shouting on the street and the loud sirens now that the police were arriving on scene.

But since you lived alone, someone coughing in your apartment, someone who wasn’t you, was cause for a little alarm.

You inhaled sharply as you glanced back over your shoulder, every atom of your being standing at attention. The apartment behind you was a study in contrasts, dark shadows and the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles outside. Your eyes fell on the empty spot where your couch used to be located, and then your gaze followed the drag marks that had been carved into your wood floor.

The couch was half embedded in the wall beside your front door, with one of the armrests denting into the plaster and the other pointing toward your gaping window/wall. The sofa’s legs had been broken, so it slumped to the floor at an angle, and some kind of stuffing spilled out of several rips in the cushions.

But your eyes were glued to the leg sticking out over the armrest and the arm thrown over the back of the couch, which was blocking the rest of the… person from view.

Oh, fuck. That was a person.

Your legs reacted before your brain could even process what you should do, but you were at least cognizant enough to pick your way over the worst of the debris. Your thin, rubber-soled slippers would protect you from the small pieces of glass and rubble, but you really didn’t want to step on a nail if you could help it.

Since your apartment was so small, and there weren’t any full pieces of furniture in the way anymore, you crossed the distance in a handful of strides, but you jerked to a stop when you reached the back of the couch.

Your lungs seized up so suddenly they hurt. The smell of caramelized sugar was stronger now, almost overwhelming, and you actually had to grip the back of the sofa for support, your hand right next to Dynamight’s leg.

Because it was Dynamight half-strewn across your broken couch. Even when you first saw the leg, you hadn’t imagined it could be…

But there he was. And he looked surprisingly… human.

His face was lax with unconsciousness, lacking the perpetual scowl or snarl he wore in pictures or on TV. His hair, which looked paler and somehow softer in person, was tinged red along his brow line, where a cut was still trickling sluggishly. He wore a non-descript black hoodie over dark jeans and darker combat boots, but a glint of color and light around his midsection caught your eye.

You frowned and leaned down without thinking, your fingers reaching out to brush… something wet.

“Oh, shit,” you breathed when you lifted your hand to your face and saw, even in the darkness, that the pads of your fingers were red and glistening.

He was bleeding.

You moved a step closer, but then your foot lost purchase, sliding, and when you glanced down, you saw your once white slippers were dark, more wetness seeping in around your toes.

Oh, god. He was bleeding a lot.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You fumbled for the phone in your pants pocket as you scurried around the opposite end of the couch and dropped to the ground. Glass bit into your knees again, this time deeper, a sharp, brilliant pain, but you ignored it as you tried to turn your phone’s flashlight on. The touch-screen wouldn’t register your finger at first, your blood-slicked skin skimming across the glass, and you could feel a scream building in your throat just before the light flashed on.

If you thought things were bad in the dark, being able to see made it a thousand times worse.

Blood had already pooled around Dynamight, dark and glinting like an oil spill. The sleeve on his left arm had been burned off, and the skin below was pink and raw. It smelled like cooked meat, and the curry you ate what felt like a lifetime ago churned hotly in your gut.

But the burn wasn’t even the worst of it.

A wooden stake, about as wide as three of your fingers, protruded out of the pro hero’s gut by several inches. You thought part of it might have looked like your window frame, but the thought came and went when you noticed the tip of the wooden splinter was dyed red, which meant it must have come through his body.

That had to be where all this blood came from. Was still coming from. God, there was so much of it.

Your eyes shot to the gaping hole in your wall, your voice rising in your throat as you prepared to scream for help, but a sudden gasp nearly made you jump out of your skin.

You whipped back around to find wide, hazy red eyes trained on your face, and the hero’s mouth gaped open as he dragged in a ragged breath.

“Wh—hnng!” he groaned as his body seized, his right hand coming up to clutch at his stomach.

“Don’t!” Your phone clattered to the floor, throwing light, as you lunged forward, and you caught his hand before he could jar the piece of wood lodged inside him. “D-Don’t move, a-and try not to speak.”

The hero panted as he cracked open his eyes and looked at you. Or maybe through you. His gaze wasn’t very focused, and blood from the cut on his brow was still dripping into his right eye.

But the scarlet color of his irises was still striking, even in the dimness of your apartment.

“You’ve… been hurt,” you said as you met his eyes as best you could. You weren’t a doctor or an EMT, but you knew the best way to keep people calm in emergency situations was to let them know what’s happened and reassure them. “There’s a piece of wood inside you, so you can’t move or you might hurt yourself worse. But y-you’ll be okay. I’ll go get—”

“Villain,” Dynamight suddenly spat out, cutting you off and spattering you with a fine mist of blood.

“What?” His voice was rough and guttural, so it took your brain a moment to translate the slurred Japanese. Did he think you were another villain?

The blond hero winced and groaned again, and it wasn’t until he squeezed down on your hand that you realized you were still holding his. His palm was rough and calloused against yours—and warm, so inexplicably warm—but then he dug his nails into your skin, and you gasped.

“Vil… lain?” he rasped again, and you realized it was a question.

“Oh! The villain’s been arrested. You… you beat him.”

Dynamight scowled at you, brow knitting in confusion, and he grunted what sounded like a questioning noise at you.

Then he shifted his head, and you saw the dark stain of blood coming out of his ear.

He must have ruptured his eardrums in the explosion.

You didn’t want to shout and damage his hearing even more, so you squeezed his hand back and smiled in what you hoped was reassurance.

“You won,” you mouthed as clearly as you could. “You won, Dynamight.”

His narrowed eyes widened a little bit with recognition, and you could have sworn the beginnings of a smirk twitched across his lips before his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head. The tension fled his body as he went limp, like a marionette with its strings cut, and your heart lurched up into your throat.

“Dynamight?” you asked, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you with his ears the way they were. “Dynamight?”

You squeezed his fingers, shaking him a little, but his face remained slack.

Dropping his hand, you reached up to flatten one of yours across his chest, the other going up to feel at the underside of his neck. A moment ticked by, two, but you found his pulse, weak and thready beneath your fingertips. His breathing was shallow beneath your other hand, and the knees of your pants were warm and soaked with his blood.

“F-Fuck,” you breathed shakily as you sat back for a moment, your hands limp in your lap.

He was dying. Dynamight… was dying. This was too much blood, and even if you called out to the heroes right now, and they got here in seconds, it was still ten minutes to the nearest hospital.

He didn’t have ten minutes. You didn’t think he had five.

You stared down at the pro hero’s blood-streaked face for half a beat before you made a decision.

Then you were moving. Consequences be damned.

Your hands went to the hem of his hoodie, and you flinched as you pulled it away from his belly with a wet sound. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you also didn’t think he was feeling much of anything now, so you worked the hoodie up and over the stake as best you could before you shoved the fabric the rest of the way up his chest.

The flashing lights from outside played across the dips and valleys of Dynamight’s abs, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the wooden stake. It jutted out between the hero’s belly button and his right hip bone, and every splinter was coated in tacky, crimson blood. More of the viscous liquid bubbled up around the torn skin at the stake’s base, and it trickled across his pale, alabaster abdomen like spilled paint.

You bit your lip as you considered your next move, but then Dynamight’s breath hitched with a wet sound, and you knew you didn’t have time for doubts.

“Okay, steady,” you muttered to yourself as you knelt over the hero’s prone body. Your knees burned, glass digging deeper into the skin by the second, but you shoved away your own pain as you reached out and wrapped both hands around the stake. Splinters tore into your palms, and your heart hammered out a staccato rhythm beneath your sternum.

Then panic started to creep up your spine like a million little spider legs. What if removing the stake only made him worse, killed him faster? What if you killed Japan’s Number Two Hero?

Just as you were about to let go of the stake, Dynamight hacked out a gurgling cough, blood bubbling out of his dry, cracked lips, and you felt the warm spray of it against your collarbone and arms.

The sound rattled something deep inside you, and before you could second guess yourself again, you tightened your grip on the stake and tugged it up and out in one single motion.

Dynamight wheezed once more, but you were already dropping the stake, hands slapping down against his abdomen. Warm blood pulsed through your fingers like pliable clay, and bile rose in the back of your throat before you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and called upon your quirk.

An instant later, agony like you’ve never experienced slammed into you, ripping a gasp from your lungs. It felt like someone had stuck a white-hot poker through your gut, ignited your insides, and twisted. The pain was so intense, your ears started ringing again, and when you cracked open your eyes, your vision quickly began to tunnel until the only thing you could see was the bare outline of your hands, lined with green, against the hero’s stomach. You gritted your teeth as unconsciousness threatened to pull you under, and you groaned as you shoved as much energy as you could spare into the dying hero.

As your quirk flooded into the blond’s body, you received vague impressions of his injuries healing. It was hard to describe, but it was kind of like you could see flashes of the tissue in your mind as it was stitched back together. First, the jagged hole on his back sealed over, and then your power wormed its way through the hero’s insides, patching up nicked arteries and punctured organs. The pain was still intense, so intense that your already limited vision was blurred by tears, but once you reached the top layers of his abs, you ripped your hands away with a gasp.

You fell back on your ass, more glass and debris digging into your cheeks and the palms of your hands, and you sucked in ragged breaths as you tried to keep from passing out. The hero swam unsteadily before you, both from the tears in your eyes and because the entire apartment was swaying. Saliva pooled in your mouth as nausea clamped down on your stomach, but you focused on the burning in your palms to center yourself. Then you started counting deep breaths, and when you got to thirty, the darkness had receded from the corners of your vision, and the apartment more or less steadied out around you.

You still felt like shit warmed over, like you’d been run over by a car and then dragged for several miles, but the bone-deep exhaustion could be cured with a good night’s sleep. The rest of the nicks and cuts on your body still burned like a million paper cuts, too, but your quirk was down to embers and was of no more use to you.

But was it worth it?

The two feet of distance between you and Dynamight felt like a canyon that stretched for miles, but somehow you found one last burst of strength to drag yourself forward a few inches. Then you held your breath and leaned over the hero’s abdomen, wiping away most of the pooling blood with the hem of his hoodie.

There was still a significant gash carved into his skin, but when you shakily picked up your discarded phone from the floor and directed the light at him, you saw the wound was much shallower, maybe a few centimeters deep. The first few layers of skin were flayed back, but the muscles beneath were intact and healthy looking. A small trickle of blood continued to drip into the valley of the hero’s abs, but instead of a broken fire hydrant, it was just a leaky faucet.

You dragged your tired eyes up Dynamight’s body, and you very quickly realized his breathing was deeper and not as wet sounding. Just to be doubly sure, you reached out and tentatively wrapped your fingers around his left wrist, only absently noticing that the once raw, flayed skin had been partially healed from third degree burns to first.

You had poured more energy into him than you meant to, but it was hard to regret anything when you felt his pulse against your fingertips, strong, steady, and sure.

“Oh, thank you,” you choked out as you closed your eyes, tears stinging in the corners. You didn’t know who you were thanking. You didn’t know if you believed in a “god” in the colloquial sense, but you felt as if the universe had given you a gift just now, and you could be nothing but grateful for it.

You sighed as you slumped a little, and it was like weights were strapped to your eyelids as you struggled to open them and keep them open. You might have actually gone under, succumb to the exhaustion…

If you didn’t catch sight of two crimson eyes staring back at you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as a zap of adrenaline shocked you upright, and your phone clattered to the ground once again.

Dynamight squinted, irises still a little glassy, but unlike last time, his gaze was very much focused on you.

And the weight of it, the intensity, pinned you to the floor.

“Y-You’re awake.” The words tripped off your tongue, chased out by the panic running circles in your brain. Damn it, you hadn’t even had time to come up with a plausible backstory for the pool of blood he was lying in.

The blond hero’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at you for an immeasurably long moment, and then you remembered with a start that he hadn’t been able to hear you before. This could work in your favor, though. You opened your mouth, ready to pantomime an elaborate story, but his voice—deep and rough, like crunching gravel or an expensive engine turning over—cut you off at the knees.

“And you have eyes,” he said in clipped Japanese, a note of snide derision in his tone.

You blinked in shock—at his attitude, the steadiness of his voice, and the fact he could hear you just fine all the sudden—but he just barreled onward like he had barreled through your window.

“What happened?” he asked. No, demanded. “Who are you?”

“I—”

“And where’s that fuckin’ villain?” he cut you off as his split upper lip curled into a snarl, and his red eyes jumped to the gaping window over your shoulder.

You frowned at him, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are you going to let me answer?”

A part of your brain was screaming at you, distantly: Are you giving Japan’s Number Two Hero attitude after he saved your life?! You normally weren’t like this. Every inch the people pleaser, you were usually deferential to the point of your own detriment.

But you were still so tired, every inch of you aching, blood still dripping and slick along your exposed skin, and he was the one who decided to be rude first.

Plus, you saved his life, too, thankyouverymuch.

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by your response because his gaze stopped its frantic search of your darkened apartment and settled on you. Those scarlet eyes raked over you quickly, a flick from head to toe, before they met your own.

A beat of silence passed between you, and then his face pulled into a sharp frown.

“Well?” he grunted. “Are you actually going to answer me?”

The nerve of this man. Maybe the media had been right.

“What happened was you decided to practically drop a bomb outside on the street, and then you crashed straight through my window and destroyed my apartment,” you said in a short, clipped tone. “But don’t worry. My couch managed to break your fall, so you’re mostly in one piece. Oh, and you beat the villain, the other heroes are outside handing him off to authorities. Satisfied with my answers?”

You sucked in a deep breath after your little tirade, the blood roaring in your ears. Absently, you patted yourself on the back for the impromptu white lie you’d fed him. The couch did in fact break his fall… and shoved a stake through his gut, but he didn’t need to know that. Fortunately, you had dropped said impaling object behind you in your haste to keep some blood in his body, and you shifted a little now to insure it was blocked from his view. You had healed his life-threatening injury—and his hearing, apparently, though you hadn’t intended that—but he was still covered in scrapes, cuts, and minor burns along his left arm. It was a… plausible amount of wounds, so hopefully your little quirk indiscretion would go unnoticed.

Dynamight was still staring at you in silence, and you began to fidget, on the edge of saying you were going to go flag down another hero, when he finally spoke up again.

“No, I’m not satisfied. You didn’t answer all my damn questions. Who the hell are you?”

A flush of heat infused your cheeks—part anger, part embarrassment for being put on the spot again and being the subject of his intense glare—and you averted your eyes as you mumbled out your name.

“Hah?” he practically shouted as he leaned forward, bringing with him that bewildering scent of burned sugar, but he suddenly stopped with a wince that he quickly turned into a scowl. “Speak up, I hate when people mutter. Just like goddamn Deku.”

The last sentence wasn’t directed at you, but you found his mention of Japan’s Number One Hero intriguing.

You sighed and repeated your name for him, a little louder this time, and he grunted in what seemed like acknowledgment before he started to struggle upright again in the ruins of your couch.

“Don’t move too fast, you’ll start bleeding again,” you chided and scooted closer to stop him from aggravating the injury on his abdomen. You’d healed the worst of it, but it was still an open wound, and he was bound to be sore as hell after smashing through a window/wall.

“M’ fine,” he grumbled as he settled into a slightly more seated position. Then he looked down and noticed his hoodie was still partially rucked up around his arm pits, and his red eyes shot back to you. He studied you for a long moment, but his face was unreadable. “Undressing me while I was unconscious? You’re not one of those damn obsessed fangirls, are ya?”

Your cheeks flared red-hot, but you scowled at the ash-blond hero. “N-No! I—You were bleeding, so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too b-bad. But, uh, the gash isn’t that deep.”

It was a little harder to make more articulate, detailed lies, especially when his blood was still drying on your hands and you could remember the exact feel of his pulse slowing beneath your fingertips.

Dynamight narrowed his scarlet eyes at you, and you knew you weren’t being convincing. Panic started to claw up the back of your throat again. His burning gaze was charring away at your weaknesses, your resolve. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, confessing. You’d saved his life after all. That wasn’t a bad thing.

Then you remembered all the articles you’d looked up one anxiety-filled night, soon after moving here. All the stories about people using their quirks and causing damage. Of people with healing quirks trying to help and only doing more harm. The fines, the charges, and in rare cases, imprisonment.

You didn’t think you’d be locked up, but you couldn’t afford any fines now, and as an immigrant, any mark on your record could get you immediately deported.

Your mouth dried up. You couldn’t be deported, sent back to your parents as a failure again. What’s more, you had people who relied on you here, like Mrs. Kojima. You weren’t a hero, not important by any means, but… you had just found something to give your life a little purpose. A little stability.

No, you couldn’t be discovered. You just couldn’t.

Your newfound resolve stiffened your spine a little, but when you lifted your chin and met those piercing crimson eyes again, your courage—along with your tongue—shriveled inside you.

Fuck, how were you going to lie your way out of this?

Unfortunately, Dynamight didn’t give you any more time to get your story straight.

“Your hands are all fucked up.”

You startled at his rough voice, instinctively flipping your hands palm-side down and tucking them between your legs. Then, when your brain caught up to your body, you cursed yourself.

Could you be any more obvious, any more guilty?

“I, uh, i-it’s nothing,” you stammered, clearing your throat before you continued. “I cut myself on the broken glass from the window, but it’s not serious. Nothing a few bandaids won’t fix, anyway. Maybe some gauze and antiseptic, but definitely not a hospital visit or anything.”

You knew you were babbling but somehow couldn’t stop it, your anxiety just seizing control of your tongue, and you clenched your torn-up hands into fists until the stinging pain centered you a little bit.

Once again, Dynamight studied you in silence, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Did you nick your damn wrist, too?” he finally asked as his neutral mask twisted into his signature scowl. “Looks like a lot of blood. Don’t be an idiot and bleed out on me. I don’t wanna deal with the fuckin’ paperwork.”

Well, maybe not that carefully.

“I-I’m not bleeding out,” you protested with a frown. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?

The hero stuck out his right hand, palm up, his scowl only deepening. “Let me see your hands.”

Fuck. A drop of icy cold fear slid down your spine. Your hands were indeed “fucked up” like the blond said, but the cuts were all shallow and minor. They would in no way explain how you were coated in blood up past your wrists. None of your injuries would account for that.

And none of his current ones would, either.

“I—” You opened and closed your mouth several times like a gasping fish, and Dynamight’s eyes narrowed on you with what you were sure was suspicion.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, a small but bright beam of light suddenly flooded your apartment from over your shoulder.

“Dynamight?” a male voice shouted.

The blond hero clenched his eyes shut and turned away from the light, and you. “I’m here! Turn that damn light out.”

Said light cut out an instant later, and you seized the opportunity that had just been presented to you.

Quick as a whip, you leaned over and snatched a large swath of dark fabric that you’d seen in the brief moment of illumination, and you reeled it into your lap quickly. The fabric had been a personal project of yours, a gown you’d started on a whim, but that didn’t matter now. Dynamight was still rubbing at his eyes, grumbling about being blinded, so you kicked half of the unfinished garment under and around the base of the ruined couch, effectively covering up the large pool of blood that had congealed under the splintered furniture. Then you reached behind you, grabbed the bloody stake, and shoved it between the folds of fabric.

There. Now, most of the evidence was hidden.

And not a moment too soon, because in the next breath you heard the crunch of glass as the unnamed hero stepped into the apartment behind you.

“Hello?”

“We’re over here,” you called back, struggling to your feet so the hero could see you over the back of the couch.

The hero was silhouetted against your ruined window and the flashing police lights outside, so you couldn’t see much of his face, but you could tell he was tall and broad-shouldered, wrapped in a red and purple suit you didn’t recognize.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the hero asked in very formal Japanese.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Dynamight cut you off. It seemed to be a habit of his.

“We’re fine,” he grunted, and you turned to see the blond shoving himself to his feet. A gasp caught in your throat, and you made a half-aborted motion to stop him, but his red eyes snapped up and glared at you, freezing you in your tracks. “Aren’t we?”

It took a moment for you to realize the last question was directed at you, and when Dynamight’s lip curled up into a sneer as he accusingly dropped his gaze to your hands, you realized none of your lies had convinced him after all.

“Y-Yes.” The word stumbled out of your mouth without your permission, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off the blond as you felt your world falling in around you for the second time tonight. “We’re fine.”

The hero behind you said something, but it was lost in the static suddenly filling your head.

He knows. He knows. Dynamight knows.

The words cycled through your brain again and again, a broken record. What would he do? Would he tell the other hero? Or take you down to the authorities himself? And what then? Would they arrest you? Give you a few days to pack up and say your goodbyes before your deportation?

Just as you were beginning to spiral, movement caught your attention, and you watched as if from a distance as Dynamight suddenly stepped past you, the scent of burnt sugar stinging your nose as he went. He was talking, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated through your body since he was so close, barely a hair’s breadth away, but he seemed to be talking to the other hero.

Was he confessing your secret already?

You couldn’t seem to turn around, your slippered feet rooted to your debris strewn floor. Even in the dark, you could see the black stain of Dynamight’s blood on your ruined couch cushions, and without thinking, you leaned down, picked up another torn and dirty piece of fabric, and threw it over the stain, blocking it from view.

You didn’t know why you did that. It didn’t matter now. Dynamight knew, and—

“Ma’am?” A hand touched your elbow, and you jumped, whirling around. “Whoa, careful there.”

It was the tall hero in the red and purple suit. He was wearing a partial mask over his eyes, so only the lower half of his face was visible, framed by two pieces of dark hair. He smiled at you, a pleasant, reassuring gesture, but you could only gape at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked you again, a frown replacing his smile. His eyes started to look you over, but you shoved your hands into the pockets of your sweats before he could see them.

It doesn’t matter, you idiot, your brain screamed, but your body was still going through the motions of keeping your secret, twisting your hands in your pockets, trying to rub out the blood.

“I’m fine,” you said again and then realized repeating the same trite phrase probably wasn’t convincing. So, you smiled at the hero, or at least you thought you did. Your face felt strangely stiff and numb, but you flashed your teeth and crinkled your eyes just the same. “Really. I’m just a little… shaken up is all. I have a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. The apartment took the worst of the damage, obviously.”

You laughed, a hint of hysteria in your voice, as you gestured to the gaping hole in your wall behind the hero, hoping to get him away from your blood-soaked couch. And, blessedly, he did turn, so you took a few steps past him until you were both facing the broken window.

Then you noticed Dynamight was standing near the hole, very cautiously leaning against the last remaining, exposed stud in the wall, with his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. His body was facing out into the street, but his eyes were still locked on you, the red of them only intensified by the police lights still flashing on the street.

His eyes seemed to say, I know what you did, and all the saliva dried up in your mouth.

“Well, as bad as the damage is to your home, I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured, ma’am,” the hero at your side suddenly said, and you jolted when you realized he was responding to your inane babble from what already felt like hours ago.

“O-Oh, yes.” You smiled again, just as forced and twice as shaky. “I was… very lucky. A-And thank you! For doing your part to s-stop that villain before he hurt anyone or caused even more damage.”

“Yes, well, there was still more damage than I would have preferred,” the hero replied, and you didn’t miss the dirty look he shot Dynamight, who just deepened his scowl because he was still looking at you. “But let’s get you down to the street. The paramedics will look you over, and the authorities will want to take a statement. But don’t worry, they’ll also put you up in a hotel for the night since you obviously can’t stay here.”

He threw the last part of the sentence at Dynamight like a dagger, and the blond finally tore his eyes off you to glare at the other hero.

You waited for the explosive hero to… well, explode, but he only stared down the tall man beside you before he rolled his eyes, glanced at you one last time, and then jumped out the hole in your wall.

“No—” you gasped, stumbling forward like you could stop him, but an instant later, you heard a mini-boom out on the street, followed by Dynamight barking orders at someone.

Oh, yeah. You remembered how the blond had burst through the air while fighting the villain and realized he didn’t just ruin all your hard, illegal healing work by face-planting onto the concrete.

You sighed and suddenly swayed, like the blond leaving had finally cut all of your tense strings. The adrenaline was fading at last, exhaustion leeching through your veins in its place, and you listed into the hero beside you.

“Ma’am?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled sleepily, trying and failing to find your balance. “I think… the shock is wearing off. Just… tired.”

“Would it be alright if I carried you down to the street?”

You wanted to protest, say you could take the stairs down to your shop, but your tongue felt sluggish in your mouth, and all you managed was a vaguely affirmative sounding hum.

“Okay, hold on.”

You felt one hand wrap around your shoulders while the other scooped you up around the knees, and usually, you would protest, insecure about your weight, but the hero settled you against his chest with ease. The instant you were off your feet, every muscle in your body went limp, and you were too tired to even be embarrassed when your head flopped against the hero’s collarbone.

You had the vague thought that he didn’t smell like warm sugar, followed by a flash of disappointment, but then the hero was moving, jumping, and you were falling through the air.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get the luxury of passing out.

Once you hit the street, it was all sirens and shouting, flashing lights and flashes of people, so many people.

True to his word, the hero in the red and purple suit carried you over to an ambulance and two waiting paramedics. The American in you panicked, instinctively trying to refuse care because your shop and home were just destroyed, you didn’t have money for an ambulance ride, too.

But as the medics peppered you with rapid fire Japanese questions, you were reminded of where you were, and the bright flashlight shining into your eyes sure woke you up a little.

The next half an hour was a blur. The paramedics tended to the wounds on your palms, knees, and, embarrassingly, ass, but all of the cuts were shallow, and none of them even required stitches. You knew they wouldn’t require stitches anyway, because once you rested up, your quirk would heal you, but you kept your mouth shut and let the medics wrap you in gauze and bandages. You seemed to have rubbed away enough of the blood on your hands that they weren’t suspicious, but it brought you no relief.

While they worked, you watched the heroes and police out of your peripherals. They were still working to seal off the scene and tend to your neighbors, who were gathered further down the block behind some yellow tape. It didn’t look like anyone else had been injured beside you, and for that you were grateful.

But your stomach was still in knots.

More than once, you heard Dynamight’s brash voice bark over the sirens and other voices, and as the paramedics were finishing up the bandages on your hands, a head of ash-blond hair jutted out over the police car closest to you. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes zeroed in on that distinctive hair color, and you saw the explosive hero was speaking—well, yelling—at two police officers.

Your mouth felt suddenly dry despite the multiple cups of water the medics had fed to you. What was Dynamight saying?

As if he could hear your thoughts, red eyes snapped to the side and locked onto yours, and the breath hitched in your chest. That crimson gaze held you trapped, unable to look away, so when the two officers he’d been speaking to suddenly stepped into your field of vision, you gasped.

“Apologies, didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am,” one of the officers said. He was a middle-aged man, balding, with a serious face and a no-nonsense expression. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it.”

You swallowed, your throat clicking, and your heart stuttered into a breakneck pace beneath your sternum.

“O-Of course,” you replied, only stumbling a little over your Japanese. You smiled at the officers, but the expression felt stilted, and fear seized you by the throat and squeezed until your breaths were shallow and grating in your ears.

“Thank you.” The balding officer nodded. “My name is Detective Nakahara. I’ve been told you witnessed and were injured in tonight’s attack.”

You thought the injury part was obvious, given your myriad of bandages and the fact you were sitting in the back of an ambulance, but you nodded to confirm anyway since your voice had abandoned you.

This was it. He was going to ask you the damning question, and you were going to tell the truth. Lying to a hero in the heat of the moment had been one thing, but lying to a police officer during an official statement was another thing entirely. It would take one database search for them to confirm your quirk and Dynamight’s story, and then you really would be in trouble. Maybe imprisoned instead of deported. You cursed yourself for not knowing more about the laws that were going to quickly ruin your life.

But… then Nakahara started asking you about the villain and what you saw, and you stuttered out an answer to the best of your ability. You thought this might have been a disarming tactic, to lull you into a false sense of security, but when you got to the part of the story where Dynamight burst through your window, the officer sighed.

“I take it that’s your apartment there?” Detective Nakahara asked as he gestured to the gaping hole.

“Y-Yes.” You nodded. “And I own the shop below.”

Which you now realized looked no better than your apartment. The windows were all blown out, black scorch marks along the door frame, and you didn’t want to even think about the shape of the interior.

“What kind of shop is it?” he followed up, but he sounded more curious than interrogatory.

“Clothing alterations,” you said. “M-My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited the shop about a year ago, after they passed.”

“My condolences,” Nakahara murmured with a small dip of his head, and he seemed genuine. “For your grandparents, and your home and business.”

You blinked in surprise at the turn in conversation. “O-Oh, thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Do you have anywhere to go for the night, or were you on the way to the hospital?” he asked as he looked you over.

“No,” you said quickly and then blushed. “I-I mean, my injuries aren’t serious enough for a hospital visit. Just some cuts and scrapes.”

“Alright.” Nakahara nodded. “Is there any family we can call for you? Or take you to?”

“N-No,” you repeated, a little more timidly this time. “My parents… don’t live around here, and I don’t really have any other family.”

“Any friends?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

Your face was red-hot now, and you dropped your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your bandaged fingers. What were you going to say? That you were an introvert, and the only “friends” you had were the old ladies who frequented your shop?

“None that I would want to bother in the middle of the night,” you muttered before you suddenly remembered something. “But, um, one of the heroes said you could maybe take me to a hotel?”

“Of course, we can take you right now, and we’ll also pay for the night,” the detective said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you started to protest as you snapped your head up, but the officer held up a hand.

“The city has funds to aid those displaced by villain attacks,” he explained. “The next forty-eight hours are guaranteed, so if I were you, I would use the opportunity to rest.”

Detective Nakahara glanced down at your bandages, and you bit your lips as you nodded.

“Okay, thank you for your help then, sir.” It was all you could think to say.

“You’re welcome.” Nakahara nodded back at you and then reached out to help you out of the ambulance. “If you’ll come this way, we can have an officer collect some things from your apartment, and then we’ll head to the hotel and get you settled.”

The finality in his tone and the idea of a hotel drew you up short. What… was happening? You had thought the detective was going to interrogate you about your quirk, not… chauffeur you to a nice hotel.

The practical part of your brain was screaming for you to let it go, but the words were high-diving off your tongue before you could stop them.

“I-Is that all?”

Detective Nakahara paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is what all?”

“I—” Shut up, shut up, shut up! “You didn’t have any more questions for me?”

“No,” the detective said simply. “We have your statement, and it matches the others we’ve obtained.” Here, he frowned and seemed to study you for a moment. “Did you have any other questions for me?”

“I… was just wondering what the next steps are for my apartment and shop,” you blurted out the first thing you could think of. “Will the… city pay for repairs? Do I have to fill out some forms?”

It was an honest question, a real one you had, but your mind was still reeling. He wasn’t going to ask about your quirk? Had… Had Dynamight not said anything?

Nakahara sighed but held a hand out for you to take, and you absently let him help you down from the ambulance. Then he slowly began walking toward one of the police cars, and you had no choice but to follow since you were still holding onto his arm for balance.

“Unfortunately,” the detective started, “the city will not be able to repair your home or business.”

“Why?” you asked with a frown. “I thought you said there were funds.”

“There are,” he said, and when you looked up at him, you noticed his lips were pursed into a thin line. “And, if the villain himself had thrown debris through your window, then the city would compensate you. But, in this situation, Dynamight caused the damaged.”

The detective practically spat the blond hero’s name, and your surprise must have shown on your face because Nakahara quickly cleared his throat and schooled his expression.

“Because of this, his agency will be responsible for repairs, so you will have to contact them,” the officer finished.

Contact them? You had to contact Dynamight’s agency, which meant… fuck. You felt the blood drain from your face, and your expression must have shown your dismay because Nakahara patted your hand that was still looped through his arm

“But you can worry about that tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s get your things and get you to the hotel so you can rest.”

You nodded blankly and let the detective lead you to the open backseat of a police car. Nakahara called another officer over, and the woman asked you questions about where things were in your apartment. You answered numbly, listing out different clothing items and how to get to your bedroom. Then she was gone, and Nakahara stepped away to do something else, so you were suddenly left all alone.

Unbidden, you looked up and searched for that pair of scarlet eyes, that head of ash-blond hair, but the explosive hero was suddenly nowhere to be found.

The crime scene continued to bustle around you, but all the while, two thoughts circled each other in your head, like binary stars stuck in each other’s orbit:

Dynamight didn’t reveal my secret.

But I’m going to have to face him again.

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