#or ya know. the sleeping pills that are kicking in right now and making it hard for me to so much as open my eyes

[butchdykekondraki]

i thijk centricide melted my brain like i think it Literally made me Stupider

[skeletboi]

Part 13 of the Intridimensional AU!

First /// Previous /// Next

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Ford woke with a start when he heard a clatter down the hall followed by a loud swear. He sighed and stretched, trying to work the kink out of his neck. Fiddleford was sure to give him hell about sleeping in his study again, but he had a lot to catch up on after the impromptu two day road trip, and couldn't afford to sleep now. He stood from his chair and adjusted his glasses, taking a deep breath to steel himself for whatever mess Stanley had just made.

He made his way down the hall, heading for the kitchen, when he heard Fiddleford's laugh from the parlor.

“You coulda told me it was spring loaded! Sixer is going to kick my ass out so fast!” He heard Stanley say.

Ford frowned and made his way to the parlor, where he found Fiddleford kneeling in front of Stan with a small toolbox at his side.

Fiddleford looked up at the motion in the doorway and smiled brilliantly at Ford.

“Mornin’ Stanford. Did ya actually get some sleep for once?” He asked.

“Some.” Ford said. “What are you two doing?”

“Making out, obviously.” Stan said quickly before Fiddleford could answer.

Fiddleford turned bright red and shot up.

“No! We sure as heck weren't doin’ that! I was jus’ fixin’ ta tryin’ out the new robit leg!” He said, waving his hands frantically.

Ford raised an eyebrow as he looked from Fiddleford's red face to Stan's smug smile.

“Right. How is that working out?” He asked, stepping further into the room to get a better look at Stan's leg.

“It's fucking great!” Stan said. “Although Fidds here didn't warn me about the spring loaded knife holder he put it in, so I owe you a new lamp. Put it on my tab.”

“Fidds?” Ford asked, frowning.

“Your ‘assistant’ here. Ya know, Fidds!” Stan said, smiling mischievously.

“You used to call me that all the time in college, Ford. You still call me that ‘cassionally. It don't bother me if Stan calls me that, too.” Fiddleford said, leaning down to pack up some of his tools.

“I am aware of that, yes. I just find it… interesting that Stan is calling you that.” Ford said, doing his best not to pout and surely failing.

“I got myself a long name, seems only natural. Anyways,I'm ‘bout done here and was gonna make some breakfast. You wanna join?” Fiddleford asked as he packed the last of his tools.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Ford responded, glancing away.

“Work-schmerk. Eat somethin’ will ya? I haven’t seen you consume more than a protein pill and coffee since you dragged my sorry ass out of that motel.” Stan said.

“‘Least have some toast, Stanford. I did plenty of work while you were gone. I know ya like yer schedule, but it ain't no rush- it's not like we got a real deadline.” Fiddleford added.

“Keeping to the schedule is paramount!” Ford replied.

“For who? Do you have a boss you're not telling me about?” Fiddleford asked jokingly.

“No!” Ford responded too quickly, making Stan and Fiddleford jump. “No, I don't have a ‘boss’. I just would prefer to maintain our original timeline.”

Stan stared at Ford, wondering what would cause such a guilty reaction and coming up empty.

“Well I'll meet ya in the lab with some toast in a bit then, but I ain't starvin’ myself to death for yer silly schedule.” Fiddleford said in a way that suggested this was a normal argument between them.

“Fair enough. You know where to find me.” Ford said, turning on his heel and making his way to the lab.

Fiddleford sighed as he stood then turned to Stanley, holding out a hand to help him up.

“That leg is gonna take some real gettin’ used to, so don't rush it.” He said as Stan took his offered hand and managed to get off the couch without falling.

“This definitely feels weird already.” Stan responded, taking a wobbly step forward.

“How's the pain? I know that magic goop healed it up real well, but is it hurtin’ at all?” Fiddleford asked, taking Stan's other hand to lead him another step forward.

“It's not hurting. All I feel is pressure, like my leg is asleep instead of gone.” Stan replied, taking another step and nearly falling.

Fiddleford caught him before he could take them both down and laughed.

“Didn’t I jus’ tell ya to take it slow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm not real good at that, though.”

“So impatience runs in the family, too? I ain't too shocked by that.” Fiddleford laughed.

“It didn't used to. Ford used to be way more patient than me.” Stan thought aloud.

“That don’ surprise me much, either. When I met him he was a lot more patient, ‘cept when it came to his work, but he has been actin’ a bit odd as of late. Did he ever sleep walk as a kid?”

“Sleepwalk? No. He was on the top bunk in our room, so I definitely would have noticed.”

“Int'restin’. He didn’ used ta sleep walk in college either and we shared a be- I mean I also wouda noticed. Anyways, he’s been sleep walkin’ a lot recently, but he avoids the question if I ever ask him ‘bout it.”

Stan frowned as he took another step, wondering what could cause sleepwalking in an adult. Stress, maybe? Ford did seem a bit on edge, but Stan had assumed that was because he had found his twin brother missing a leg in a shitty motel room. There was definitely something more going on here, but he had no idea what it was.

“Why you?” Stan asked, looking up at Fiddleford.

Fiddleford frowned in question.

“I mean, he's out here lookin’ for monsters or aliens or something, right? Why does he need a mechanic?” Stan clarified.

“Ah, right. Well he's workin’ on this project that was a bit more complicated mechanically than what he’s use ta doin’.” Fiddleford explained, sounding suddenly nervous.

“That is a very vague answer, Fidds.” Stan deadpanned.

“I- I don’ quite know howta ‘splain it. I don’ even know how he done came up with the idea… I-I-” Fiddleford stuttered.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Fidds. Didn't mean to stress you out, I was just making conversation. We can talk about something else.”

Fiddleford nodded, a nervous smile on his face that just made Stan more curious.

“Well then, Ford mentioned you left your wife and child behind in California to work for him, that seems a bit more than casual!” Stan said with a shit-eating grin.

Fiddleford neary tripped backwards.

“Well! I- No! I love my son, I'm goin’ back! I jus’ gotta help Stanford here a bit longer, I reckon!” Fiddleford said quickly.

“Right, right. Interesting that you mentioned your son, but not your wife.” Stan said, his smile widening.

“Stanley! I will let you fall! ‘Course I love my wife! I jus’... well I didn't expect Stanford to ever reach out ta me after college, I ‘spose.” Fiddleford responded, his voice fading as he talked.

“That's a pretty intense pickle you got yourself in, isn't it?” Stan asked.

“It ain't no pickle. Stanford has always cared about his work more than anythin’. I've known that since the first week I met ‘im. He'll do this project a his either way, and we'll go our separate ways. He'll forget ‘bout me ‘ventually.”

“But you won't forget about him?” Stan asked, and didn't miss the way Fiddleford flinched at that.

“Well yeah, I ‘spose I'll hafta forget him, too.” He responded quietly, his gaze distant.

Stan frowned, unsure how to respond after that sudden change in demeanor.

“Well, I think your wife could forget about you, too. So there's that.” Stan said after a moment.

Fiddleford made a face and dropped his hands from Stan's, causing Stan to wobble and nearly fall over. Stan huffed but took the hint. He wouldn't be getting through to these nerds easily, but at least it was entertaining.

“Less talkin’, more focusin’ on your steps.” Fiddleford said, taking Stan's hands back in his own to steady him.

“Sorry, mom. I'm focusing.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and continued to lead Stan forward. It was getting easier with each step, but Fidds was right- this would take some serious getting used to.

____________________________________________

Well, life is a distopian nightmare, but these boys are keeping me sane. (for now)

Stan is a menace, and I love that for him.

[captain-mj]

I don't know if anyone has asked yet, but I'd love a part 2 of the horangi/konig mafia AU.

I absolutely adore the characterisation and I am starving for Horangi finding out who Konig actually is!

This was a bit longer than I was expecting but here ya go (smut at the end)

Part 1

König brought Horangi slightly better food after his bath, smiling at him. He watched Horangi start to eat for a few minutes. Horangi looked up at him and swallowed. “You okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Are you feeling better?”

“Much. It felt nice. Feels nice being clean.” 

König nodded and smiled at him. “Rest now, ja?”

Horangi nodded before admitting. “Still exhausted from those pills.” He was visibly leaning over and as soon as König took the bowl, he slumped back into the bed. “Done nothing but sleep since I got here.”

“You’re injured. It does that.” König pressed his hand to Horangi’s forehead, making sure there was no fever. The paranoia that Horangi might develop an infection was still high, but he seemed to be doing well. He gently helped Horangi to lay back down and put his blanket over him. Horangi’s eyes had started to glaze over and he was light enough that König could move him around. 

König left him to sleep and stretched. He then rolled his shoulders before pulling his hood back on. 

The person who bought Horangi, his dad’s previous right hand man, had the decency to at least look sheepish when he saw him. 

“In my defense, I thought he’d be good for you!”

“I do not need… whatever he is.” 

“He’s whatever you want him to be. He has no family. Came to this country after being kicked out of his last one. No friends, just gambling debt. An easy mark.”

König sighed and shook his head. “Declan, while I appreciate you looking out for me, I am just fine.”

“Leon. You’re socially anxious and useless when talking to people on your own. Whether you want him as a translator, boytoy, bodyguard, friend, I don’t care. I just thought he’d do you some good.”

“...Bodyguard huh?” König had been considering it. He liked Horangi honestly. Very cute. Small. Even with the new scarring, he was handsome. Once it healed, König had no doubts he’d be stunning. What little conversation they had managed to have proved he was intelligent. Spoke enough German to know what König meant, even if he clearly wasn’t fluent. He’d be a good bodyguard, even if that wasn’t something König really needed. It meant they’d be close and if he didn’t want to deal with a social situation, his bodyguard could do it. 

“I’ll wait until he’s recovered.” 

Declan nodded. “Glad you’re seeing my side. I just want what’s best for you, kid.” 

König wrinkled his nose, but didn’t point out that he was 24 and Declan was only in his earlier thirties. Not the closest, but close enough for it to not make sense for Declan to try acting like his dad. 

Plus, König’s dad was dead and he wasn’t looking for a replacement. He didn’t particularly like the one he had. The man started a criminal empire and then died during a crucial part of it. And now he was stuck dealing with this. 

König sighed. “Alright, Declan.” He dealt with his normal duties, still constantly thinking of Horangi. This was going to be complicated. 

It was the fourth day now and, after making sure his hood wasn’t on, König was bringing Horangi more food. He asked the chef to make him something special for him. They provided a soup made mostly of chicken and ginseng. It smelled fragrant. König would have to try it. Probably would taste good. 

Horangi looked excited when he handed it to him. He clearly recognized it and immediately started eating. His face looked a bit red and König reached out, gently placing his fingers to his face. Warm, but not feverish. He’d keep an eye on it, but he was sure it would be fine. 

Horangi sipped the soup and glanced up at him. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Most Korean parents make this for sick children. We’re in Austria. You’re clearly Austrian.”

König shrugged. “Just asked them to make something you like.”

“You’re not the one cooking?” Horangi tilted his head and König wondered if he had any idea who he was. He sat on the bed next to him and watched him curiously. 

König realized he hadn’t responded and winced. “No. I’m not. I’m just… your caretaker.” 

“Ah. Do you know who I’ll be working for?”

“KorTac.” 

Horangi paused and looked up at him. He didn’t give much of a reaction besides that. Not even a flicker of emotion for König to interpret. “Ah. I owe them money.”

“Your debt has been cleared.”

“What could I possibly do that’s so useful they’d be willing to do this?” 

König stared at him. 

Horangi frowned. “You have to know something right?”

König must’ve reacted because Horangi was leaning forward. “Look, if they don’t give the job to me, that’s fine. But please, tell me what my job is if they give it to me.” He grabbed König’s hands. So confident. Tiger was fitting for him. 

König grabbed his hand back, comparing them. They both had calluses on their trigger finger from guns. Little cuts from handling knives. Horangi had a line across one of his fingers like it had been purposefully cut. König had a line across his palm and little pale lines across his fingers from rings. 

“The boss’s bodyguard.”

Horangi moved closer. “Why would he need a bodyguard?”

“He doesn’t. You’re just for show.” König pulled away from him and stood up. “Finish eating. You should be focused on your recovery.”

Horangi frowned and stared up at him. “Who’s your boss?”

König smiled brightly. “He’s nice. Don’t worry. Again, nothing for you to worry about.”

Horangi did not look sure but he clearly decided to accept it for now, not like he had much of a choice. He finished eating and let König rebandage him. König examined him, making sure everything looked okay. 

“You’re healing well, Horangi.”

Horangi nodded slightly and rolled his shoulder. He winced. “Still hurts but not as bad.” 

König nodded and lightly pressed his fingers to them. His fingers were cold against the cuts but Horangi didn’t move away. 

“Yes. Healing very well.” He patted Horangi’s hip, completely missing how red that made his face. “I’ll find some shirts you can wear.”

Horangi nodded. “Not many people have seen me like this. Don’t tell anyone, yeah?” He looked up at him, mostly undressed with his hair rumpled. The only real covering a pair of boxers a size too big and bandages. 

“I’d never tell a soul.”

König was pulled away on the fifth day and the sixth. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected to get to spend an entire week doting on his new toy. Even if Horangi was without a doubt the most fun thing he had had for a while. 

König kept his hood on. It was the easiest way to make himself not anxious as he talked with Horangi again. 

Someone else had been feeding him and he wondered briefly if someone else had bathed him. He hadn’t told them to, but he hadn’t told them not to. Horangi could probably do it on his own, König only did it that day because he was a little too drugged up. No better fucking have. The thought made König’s stomach churn. 

He had someone else bring Horangi to him. He tried to look intimidating or at least mafia boss like. Something better than what he felt like he was. 

Horangi knew immediately. The height gave it away and he blushed. He shrank down a bit, swallowing. “Ah…”

“I’ve decided you will be my bodyguard.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Sir?

König wasn’t sure if he liked that. He wasn’t sure if he liked that at all. “Horangi. No need to be like that. We’re friends, ja?”

Horangi nodded a little, looking more nervous than he had been when he was first at König’s mercy. 

“No need for formalities.” König didn’t understand where this nervousness was coming from. Nor did he understand where his own confidence did. It felt unnatural. 

“Why didn’t you wear the hood around me?”

“Did I need to?”

Horangi didn’t seem to understand the question, but he nodded nonetheless. “So, I really am just for show. Arm candy?”

“Something like that.” This was better. Horangi got over whatever stumble he had there and went back to his cool, confident self. König liked it. Good quality to have. “First job is tonight. Meeting at a casino. You’re not going to be playing any games, understood?”

Horangi nodded. “Can I have a mask too?”

“Yeah. Sure.” König smiled. This was going so well. 

Horangi was currently trying to fix this person, this tall and cruel looking person, with the shy caretaker he had. They were clearly the same person. The eyes gave it away and the height confirmed it. With the hood on, he looked different in a way that was hard to put into words. His posture more tense and his body held with a poise that normal König didn’t have.

König. 

Name made sense now. 

He got his mask and quickly covered up. The scarring was hideous. Still fresh. He was not looking forward to the period of time where they’d harden and turn red, but hopefully they’d fade to white soon. Maybe he’d get lucky and they wouldn’t actually scar, just heal. He doubted it with how deep they had been cut into his skin, but would could hope. 

Horangi still didn’t get why he was chosen for a bodyguard. Besides a little street fighting in Korea to make extra cash or defending himself, he didn’t actually know that much about fighting. He had considered joining the military but hadn’t at the last minute. And again, König clearly didn’t need him. There was something else here. Some purpose he served that he just wasn’t getting. 

Regardless, he accompanied König, feeling a little funny standing next to him now. Before, despite his height and build and how attractive he was, he was just a guy. Random employee. It felt different now. He shouldn’t just be standing next to him. 

It didn’t help that König was wearing a suit. It looked stunning on him and Horangi knew he’d need to get sunglasses so he could stare next time. 

König was not very good at cards. It translated to him making virtually no bets and barely paying attention to anything he did. Horangi tried not to correct him whenever he made a mistake. He was talking to someone in German and, seeing as he only knew what German he did from Duolingo, he couldn't really keep up. 

Horangi tapped König’s shoulder and made a sign that he was going to step away. He needed both a drink and to use the bathroom. 

A different man appeared as he was washing his hands. Horangi looked up at him, glad he had the mask on. Neither talked as they washed their hands. 

He said something in German and Horangi had to stare blankly before he tried English. “You here alone?”

“No.” 

“Ah, partner?”

“Nope. Boss.”

The man nodded and dried his hands. “Will business keep you busy all night?”

“Yes.” Horangi left. He followed. It made him a little irritated. “Listen, buddy. I appreciate the interest, but I can’t.” 

“Who’s your boss? I’m a pretty important person around here. I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want your attention.” Horangi said rather firmly. 

His face changed before he grabbed Horangi’s shirt collar. “Listen up, you little…” He paused and looked up. “Ah. Leon.” 

König growled. “Arthur.”

“Didn’t realize he was with you. My apologies. Though, if I’m allowed to borrow him…”

“You’re not allowed. Nor are you allowed to be touching him.” 

Arthur’s hands dropped. “No hard feelings right? He’s pretty and new. You know I like to touch other people’s things.” 

König stepped around Horangi rather politely before slamming his fist into him. Horangi expected that to be it but they were on the floor before he knew it. He just kept hitting him. Blood start to stain the ground and Horangi looked around, expecting panic or someone to grab him. Everyone just watched. Some of them looked almost amused, like König did this often. Maybe it did. Horangi put his hands on König to pull him away but as soon as he did, König stopped and got up. He yanked Horangi along. 

Horangi sat in the car, trying to process what he just saw. König’s hands were still bloody and it had gotten on his hood. There was an overbearing silence. It wasn’t the violence that caught him off guard. It hadn’t been the worst thing he had seen. More the suddenness. There hadn’t really been a reason why.

His hands flexed and Horangi’s attention narrowed down to that point and only that point. He had a hard time breathing. 

Horangi glanced at König and saw him staring back. The hood kept him from seeing anything but his eyes. Gorgeous blue that stared into him almost accusatory. A warmth twirled around his guts but he tried to ignore it. 

“I would’ve gotten the guy. You didn’t have to defend me.” Horangi hissed, deciding to beat König to the punch on being angry. 

König just continued to stare at him. 

“It’s my job to protect you.” Horangi insisted. 

König sighed. “Hong-jin.” 

Hearing his actual name was like getting punched in the gut. He didn’t even know how König would know it. 

“This is affecting you.” 

“I watched you beat a man to death. Yeah, it’s gong to rattle me.”

König tilted his head. “No. That’s not what I mean. Your pupils dilated and you’re breathing faster. If I told you to spread your legs, I have a funny feeling there’s even more signs of how turned on you are.” 

Horangi stared at him, trying to ignore that he was in fact hard. He bit his bottom lip, glad that his mask covered it up for him. Where had all of this confidence come from? Where was the anxiety riddled medic he had been dealing with?

Who the fuck was he?

König sighed softly. “Horangi. I’d never force you to do anything.”

Horangi’s breath got faster at the gentle tone and the words. 

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, sir.” Horangi answered a little too fast. 

König clicked a button and the privacy screen came down to cover the partition. It meant the chauffeur wouldn’t be able to see whatever happened. 

Horangi swallowed and wondered if he could tell König what he wanted and didn’t want. Should he tell him now? Would König care? 

The man himself had moved closer while he had been distracted. He cupped his face gently and then pulled off Horangi’s mask. König traced the little tally marks with a weird amount of reverence. He followed along Horangi’s lips next and he felt like he was going to shake out of his skin. 

Then, König moved to his throat, gently running his fingers along the column of it. His hand circled his throat and Horangi felt… small. König’s hands were rather big compared to him and he tried not to think about that too much, but they were huge. His other hand started to undo the buttons on his clothes to expose more skin to him.  

Horangi let out an embarrassingly soft noise. He couldn’t help it. König smiled at him and Horangi pushed his mask down and his hood up just enough to kiss him. They laid against the seats and König bit Horangi’s lip hard. 

His hands finally got Horangi’s clothes off and they ran down his sides, making him have goosebumps. His legs were pulled open and then König was finally touching him. He was so gentle as he stroked him but it felt… a little calculated.

Horangi didn’t care though, thrusting up into his hands and letting himself stay pinned. König twisted his hand slightly whenever he got close to the tip and he seemed to get a lot of enjoyment over watching Horangi get worked up. 

Horangi panted softly, trying his best to stay quiet as he realized that just because the driver couldn’t see them, it didn’t mean he couldn’t hear him. His toes curled and his back arched right as he ca- 

König paused his movements and pinned Horangi’s hips so he couldn’t thrust up. 

“What are you doing?? I was close.” Horangi wiggled as he tried to finish but he could barely move.

König waited a minute before spitting on his fingers. He gently pushed them into Horangi again. “There ya go, kitten.” 

Horangi groaned and spread his legs more. He managed to hike one of his knees onto König’s shoulder to give him a better grip on him. Once again, he felt himself getting close but König kept messing it up. He’d pause or slow down or pull away and Horangi had to fight himself to stay still during the prep. 

König stopped touching his cock all together, focusing on getting him stretched instead. Horangi groaned and panted softly. He was right there. Right on the fucking edge but it wasn’t quite enough. 

König pressed into his prostate and Horangi saw stars. The world blurred around the edges and he felt König pull away and the sound of a cap. He slammed into him, holding him down so Horangi could do nothing but take it. 

König was so rough. Horangi’s nails raked down his back. Pleasure sparked up his body and he arched, desperately pressing to König’s clothed chest. The feeling of his suit against his skin and pressed against his cock. 

“You want to finish don’t you?” König purred into his ear and Horangi nodded frantically. “Swear yourself to me.”

“What?” Horangi was right there. One touch and he’d finish. His arms were pinned so he couldn’t do it himself. 

“Swear to me that you’ll be mine. Forever.” 

Horangi started to tear up, unable to take anymore without finishing. His entire stomach was in knots and he couldn’t take anymore. “Please. Please.”

“Swear.” 

“I’m yours. Yours. Please, please, please.” 

König grabbed him and stroked him in time with his movements. 

White filled his vision and he relaxed before starting to squirm as overstimulation set in. König didn’t even pause, just continuing to fuck into him like a doll. 

Horangi gasped and tried to turn away. König flipped them around and pressed right back into him. He fucked him hard but the new angle let him go even deeper. It felt like he was being rearranged and broken in, made just for König now. Horangi gripped the seats and tried to focus on breathing as he felt himself start to get hard again. Tears streamed down his face from how good it felt. 

They were a perfect fit. König stretched him out perfectly and judging by how fucked out he already sounded, König agreed with him. It felt so good, pleasure clouding his thoughts. 

Horangi started to get close and he clawed at König’s arm that was around his chest. He was yanked up and one of his legs were shoved to his chest, König still taking him from behind. His nails dug deeper into his skin when he came again. He let out a sob as König’s hips stuttered but went right back to moving. 

“Fuck, I can’t… I don’t think…”

“I wasn’t asking. Either take it or tell me stop.” König growled at him. 

Horangi didn’t ask him to stop. His legs were trembling as König continued to fuck into him. It was a few minutes later when König came in his fucked out body. He went to touch him to finish him off but Horangi shook his head. He dropped Horangi back onto the cushions. 

Horangi trembled, gasping a little. Tears were still streaming down his face when König lifted his hood to kiss him. König redressed him and scooped him up. 

“Let me take you inside.” 

Horangi nodded and winced. “You don’t think they heard me did they?”

König also winced. “Uh…”

Horangi hid his face in the cushion, so embarrassed. “Oh no…”

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxix // The Midnight Talk

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A change in the light wakes Conrad up. Slowly, at first, until his tired eyes manage to focus on the texture of the painted wall. It’s a softer, warmer light than the LEDs in the ceiling. Maybe Davin turned on the little desk lamp.

He’s comfortable and warm under the duvet, but Conrad knows the sooner he can swallow the pills, the sooner he can go back to sleep. So he lets out a low groan against the haze in his body, the way his senses blend together into a blurry, washed out image. Fighting that feeling of ethereal calm takes effort, but he manages to push himself up to sitting, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand while the other keeps balance. Shudders slightly in the cold air.

When he finally looks up, he freezes in place, suppressing a sharp inhale. Because the man across from him is not Davin.

It’s Renee.

He’s sitting in the desk chair with one ankle resting across his knee, hands clamped tight over his shin, foot tapping an irregular rhythm in the air. Faint sweat stains mark the neck and chest of his t-shirt. Tiny flakes of dried blood dot the skin above his upper lip, as if he didn’t quite manage to clean up after a nosebleed. There’s something hungry in the way he takes in Conrad’s reaction to seeing him, something unnatural about the intensity of his stare. His eyes are too wide. His breathing is too quick. “I won’t lie to you,” he mutters seriously. “I am off my fucking shit right now.”

And his demeanor cracks, bleeds into a crooked smile. Traces of laughter are expelled from his nose, like he’s trying to hold it in.

Conrad lets out a bewildered string of syllables before he finally manages to stutter out an uncertain sentence. “What t-time is it?”

“Nighttime, dumbass.” Renee snickers. He leans back, kicks out his legs, resting his feet against the edge of the bed, one foot to either side of where Conrad is huddled. “What, you got places to be or something?” Laughs a little. “Where are you gonna go this time? Hm?”

Conrad’s stomach sinks. He shrinks back fully against the cold wall, like a cornered animal, as the first threads of fear start to creep up his spine. “What, what do you want?”

“I just wanna chat, dude, I’m in a talking mood. It’s been a while, no?” Hands folded across his abdomen, Renee taps his thumbs together. He makes continual little adjustments to how he’s sitting, like he’s bursting with energy, but has no real way to release it. Rocks slightly with the backrest, scratches at his arms, jaw working. “We used to have fun, you know? Where’d that go, hm?”

Conrad swallows, dumbfounded. Renee is always unpredictable, but this feels dangerous in a different way. Like a more severe loss of control, something you can’t begin to approach without the risk of tipping the scales completely. Is he supposed to say something? His eyes flicker to the door.

Renee instantly follows his gaze, then lets out a chuckle. “Mhm,” he hums. And then something happens - his eyes trail out over the black nothingness beyond the window, his expression becomes slack for a moment, maybe ten seconds, as the constant fiddling fades to a halt - before his gaze snaps right back to Conrad, and he starts rocking in his seat again. “I like when you’re scared, you know,” he says, smiling. “It suits you.” Sniffs. “Davin told me about the little lockpick you made. Bet you felt real clever about it, didn’t you? I bet you thought you were real fucking clever.”

He stands up suddenly, chair scooting across the floor, cocks his head to the side. Conrad flinches and leans further back against the wall. Something about the man’s eyes is alarming, not normal - the way he’s barely blinking, the dark voids of his pupils. His teeth glisten in the low light.

“How’s that workin’ out for you, huh? Do you still think you’re smart? You’re a fucking cripple now, aren’t ya?” And he lets out another low laugh, leaning down, hands against his knees, to look at Conrad eye to eye. “Life catches up to you, eh? Always fuckin’ does.”

In the cold rush of his building fear, hands clutched tight in the fabric of the duvet, Conrad returns Renee’s stare with wide eyes, because he’s pretty sure the man will snap if he doesn’t.

Renee lets out a snort, shaking his head slightly. “You’re such a fucking pussy, you know that? Spineless fucking… choir boy.” His smile veers off into a sneer, a crease of disgust. “I know who I am. That’s what you don’t seem to get. You can’t get it through your thick skull. I thought you were naïve at first, but you’re just goddamn stupid. I’m the guy who can do whatever the fuck he wants.” The last sentence is hissed through gritted teeth, eyes burning, breathing somewhat labored. He hammers his index finger at his own chest. “I’m the guy who fucking made you.”

Conrad grits his teeth. He silently counts to three and takes a quick, deep breath. “Dav—”

His shout is cut short as Renee’s fist connects to the side of his mouth, upper lip splitting on his own teeth, and the back of his head thunks hard off the wall. Dazed, Conrad ignores the instinct to stop and collect himself, just pushes off the wall with his hands, thigh searing in pain as he tries to gather his feet under himself and dart past Renee –

An arm wraps around his neck and pulls him back down, choking out the cry on his tongue. Conrad’s back hits the bed, soon followed by the weight of Renee’s upper body, centered Conrad’s chest, and a hand clamps so tight over his mouth, his head is pressed into the mattress. Conrad digs his heels in to try to twist his body free, pushing Renee with both hands, clawing, balling his hands into fists and hitting whatever he can as hard as he can, but none of it seems to faze Renee. He just shifts the weight pinning Conrad down incrementally, until he’s almost lying directly on top of him. The nauseating heat of his body, the weight. At one point, his knee digs into Conrad’s thigh, and the bandages there shift, and it feels like something tears. A cry, partly out of pain, partly out of panic, is muffled against a palm.

“Shut up,” Renee growls. There’s three red scratch marks on his cheekbone, another along his jaw, two of them bleeding enough for it to start rolling down his face. Once he finally manages to get in a position where he can straddle Conrad, he coils a hand around his throat, closing his airway. His other hand leaves Conrad’s mouth to join the chokehold. Wild eyes burning with contempt, excitement, teeth bared in a grin. “I’m a god to you. Do you understand that? I’m fucking divine, bitch.” And he lets out a high whistle through his teeth, leaning the full weight on his upper body onto his hands.

The pain in Conrad’s throat skyrockets as his Adam’s apple is forced down on his windpipe. His fingers claw desperately at Renee’s arms, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress, until his feet tangled in the duvet. His heart drums against the inside of his skull, he can feel the way the blood pools in his face, mouth open. The spasms of his diaphragm as his chest tries and fails to expand. Renee’s figure, looming above him, is clouded by a mess of sparks that begin to dart across his vision.

“Calm down. Do you want to breathe? Look at me, asshole. Do you want to breathe?”

Body convulsing, Conrad fumbles for Renee’s wrists, forcing his eyes to focus on the blurring silhouette of Renee’s face. He never manages to nod, but the pressure on his throat eases slightly, allowing him to draw in a fraction of a breath, before it returns, just as unforgiving as before.

“See? I can do whatever I want,” Renee says breathlessly. Laughs, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. “You can talk shit, but I can kill you if I fucking feel like it. Stupid bitch. I can do anything.”

The edges of Conrad’s vision are beginning to darken, a numbness spreading in his limbs, a prickling sensation in his face, when the pressure suddenly stops altogether.

As he gasps for air, he’s vaguely aware that Renee has grabbed both of his wrists, pinning one arm into the mattress next to his head, but raising the other toward himself. Conrad is so busy heaving for breath, trying to collect the strength to struggle again, he barely realizes what Renee is doing before the man’s teeth sink into his forearm.

Conrad lets out a wordless shout, back arching against new pain. There’s zero inhibition in the bite, he can feel the skin breaking, the relentless force as flesh is pried apart, the way sinew seems to get pushed out of the way, the sharp pinpricks of disbanding tissue. “Stop!” he screams. “Stop! Please stop, please stop—”

But his feeble attempts to pry his arm free only seem to strengthen Renee’s resolve. His jaw sort of locks on Conrad’s arm, teeth steadily sinking deeper. The pressure brings with it a blinding, piercing pain, and a fear in the part of Conrad’s mind that is still capable of thought, that Renee might actually reach the bone, that he might actually bite all the way through and tear a large chunk out.

Beneath Conrad’s cries, a loud thunk fills the room, one that finally makes Renee pause, and the piercing pain in Conrad’s arm ceases, leaving him to gasp in its aftershocks.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?!”

Renee’s grin is stained red as he straightens up, rocking slightly. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Davin blinks. His hair is down, tangled from sleep. “Are you high?”

Renee giggles, looking back at Conrad. “Hell yeah,” he says, letting go of Conrad’s arm only to firmly pat his cheek. The blood dribbling out of his mouth, staining his chin, is beginning to extend its fingers down his neck. “We’re just chattin’.”

“He bit me,” Conrad pants, voice shaking. “H-he bit me. He bit me.”

The disbelief is painted on Davin’s face. For a moment, he just stands there staring, brow furrowed.

“You look pissed,” Renee says zestfully. He’s still breathing hard, as if he just exercised.

“Get out,” Davin says.

Renee snickers. Pats Conrad’s cheek again, a little harder this time. “He’s definitely pissed.”

“Out,” Davin repeats, pointing to the door for emphasis.

Renee rolls his eyes, but he does shift his weight then. As soon as he has swung his leg over the edge of the bed, Conrad scurries up, crawling backwards on the bed until his back hits the corner between the wall and the headboard, drawing his legs up in front of him and clutching his forearm tight. His blood stains the bedsheets, drops and smears scattered in different places, absorbed by the fabric. His arm is throbbing.

Renee’s nonchalant steps circle Davin in the middle of the room, until he starts walking backwards toward the door. “You guys are so fucking boring, you know? I’m just here to have fun.”

“Leave,” Davin says firmly.

Raising a brow, Renee throws both hands up in defeat. Spins around, chuckling to himself, grabbing hold of the doorframe.

Davin turns his attention back to Conrad just a fraction of a second too soon. He doesn’t see the way Renee freezes on the threshold, stopping with one foot still in the room, the other in the hallway, hand still clutching the frame.

“Show me what he did,” Davin says gently.

Conrad swallows, eyes flickering between Davin and Renee’s back. “H-he…”

Davin follows his gaze. Sneers in frustration. “I mean it, Renee, get the fuck out.”

But Renee doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn his head. Just stands there, swaying slightly with the rhythm of his own rapid breathing.

Davin hesitates. “Renee?” he says, and the edge of his voice is gone. He slowly walks over to him, puts a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. Renee follows the movement, feet automatically dragging back to keep his balance, but although his grasp on the doorframe is broken, his hand doesn’t drop; it just hovers in the air, unmoving. His expression is empty, mouth hanging slightly open, gaze unfocused.

“You alright? Renee…?” Brows furrowed, Davin waves a hand in front of the man’s face. Renee half-blinks, but it seems more like a reflex than any real sign of life. His gaze stays blank. Davin shakes Renee’s shoulder a little, then holds the back of his hand up against Renee’s forehead. It prompts no reaction, but Conrad sees the muscles in Davin’s jaw working. Eventually, he steps back and lets out a sigh, casting his head back. “… three in the fucking morning,” he mutters at the ceiling. Looks down at the watch on his wrist, then back to Renee, as if he’s waiting, counting the seconds.

Suddenly, Renee blinks, gives a minute shake of his head. Frowns at Davin. “What?”

“I’d like you to sit down,” Davin tells him, nodding at the desk chair.

Snorting, Renee throws his hands out. “You literally just told me to leave.”

“I changed my mind. Sit down.”

Renee rolls his eyes again. Trots back to the chair, hasn’t sat down for a second before his leg starts bouncing. He looks at Davin expectantly, one brow raised.

“Sit there while I get my things. Twenty seconds, alright? You don’t fucking touch him.”

Renee snickers. “Chill, dude. I’ll be nice, I swear.”

His eyes follow Davin as he leaves, and then he shakes his head, mindlessly picking at his jeans. “Fucking weirdo,” he grumbles. “Everybody’s so pissed all the time.” He wipes at his chin, and seems surprised when his hand comes away red. Spends a few moments drying his face in his t-shirt, gaze sort of mindlessly drifting, until it reaches Conrad, still huddled in the corner of the bed. “Show me,” he says then. “I wanna see it.”

Conrad nervously clutches his arm tighter to his chest. The pain has faded by now, but his arm is pulsing, and he still feels warm blood seeping through his fingers, making his skin sticky. He has yet to even look at it himself, but the last thing he wants is to let Renee revel in whatever damage he caused.

Renee smiles a little, but it fades just as quickly. Eyes wide. “Show me.” He’s rocking in his seat again, a tiny back and forth, which along with the bouncing leg betrays how much he’s struggling to contain his energy.

Davin comes back with his shoulder bag, and Conrad suppresses a sigh of relief as Renee’s attention snaps to him instead.

Renee stuffs his hands in his pockets, almost like an attempt to stop fidgeting. “What do you want me to do? Hm?”

Davin dumps the bag on the desk, starts filtering through its contents. “Just try to relax.”

Renee grimaces. “I’m not gonna just fucking sit here, dude. I’m vibrating, I’m high. If you’re not gonna fuckin’… give me the Leave-Conrad-Alone talk or whatever, I’d rather just leave, you know?”

Pulling out a syringe and a glass vial, Davin nods. “I’ll let you go in a bit,” he says. Pops the cap off the syringe and lets it fall on the table.

“What’s that?”

Davin shoots him a look. “Rabies shot for Conrad.”

Renee bursts out laughing at that, leaning forward in the chair, until he’s almost folded over completely, head between his knees. “Good one,” he chuckles. And then the smile fades, and he just stares at the floor for a minute, jaw working. “God, everybody in this house is so fuckin’ dead,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “You guys don’t get it. It’s killing me, you know? It’s boring as hell. You’re boring. I’m just tryna make a living, you know?” He looks up at Davin, sneering. “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re here for. You don’t give a shit. You’re just…” He trails off, gaze drifting off to the side. “… y-… you…” And his eyelids begin to flutter slightly, restless movements fading to an uncanny stillness. The only thing that remains is that labored breathing, the occasional twitch of his mouth, almost like a wince.

“Right,” Davin mutters. He pauses drawing liquid into the syringe to check his watch again.

Conrad swallows. “What, what’s wrong with him?”

“Seizure,” Davin says simply. “He’s overdosing.”

Somehow, the thought hadn’t even crossed Conrad’s mind. He looks at Renee’s limp form in the chair, the way his body sways somewhat, the way his head slowly, slowly rolls back, exposing a throat still smeared with Conrad’s blood. His eyelids didn’t flutter before, but they do now, small bursts in between an empty gaze levelled at the ceiling.

Conrad watches as Davin sets the vial down, pulls up the sleeve of Renee’s t-shirt and injects something into his shoulder. Renee doesn’t seem to be aware of it whatsoever. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. He’s just absent.

Throwing the needle in a trash bin, Davin stands back and checks his watch again. “Come on, Vaughan,” he mutters under his breath.

 It takes a while longer than the last one, but Renee eventually blinks, straightening his head back up. Swallows, fishing a hand out of his pocket to scratch at his shoulder, right at the spot where Davin injected him. His knee starts bouncing again. “I forgot what I was thinking,” he says.

Davin snorts. “I bet.” He takes a deep breath before he turns to Conrad. “While that’s cooking… Come sit on the edge of the bed, yeah? You don’t have to get up, but I’d like to see it, alright?”

Conrad grits his teeth, eyes flickering to Renee. “Not when he’s in here.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not leaving for a while. C’mon, I can tell it’s bleeding. I’d like to get this over with.”

Renee snickers, resting his chin on his hand, a smug smile on his face. “Yeah, Connie. Show him.”

Davin looks on the verge of snapping something at Renee, but he composes himself. “If it’s any consolation,” he tells Conrad, “he probably won’t remember more than bits of pieces of this come tomorrow.”

Renee lets out a low chuckle. “Davin’s a liar. So there’s that.”

A knowing sort of smirk flashes over Davin’s face, just long enough for Conrad to catch it. So he takes a moment to collect himself, and then, still clutching his arm, uses his good leg to inch across the bed, wincing as the movement stirs the pain in his bad one. Maybe the pills are wearing off. Can adrenaline make that happen faster? He keeps the bad leg bent, crossed under the one he swings over the edge of the bed. Davin crouches down in front of him, and Conrad reluctantly holds out his arm, taking an anxious breath before he uncoils his hand from the wound.

He's not sure what he expected. His skin is smeared with blood, and the edges are hard to make out, but it looks like a bite mark. Two half-circles, fading before they meet. Faint indentations of molars which didn’t quite pierce the skin, but left enough of an impression to still be visible. As Davin carefully pulls the skin apart with two fingers, the wound gapes, revealing the depth of it – deep enough to need stitches, Conrad can tell already. The other side is just as bad.

Renee lets out a whistle, which breaks into laughter. “Damn. I can’t believe I did that.”

Conrad clears his throat, avoids looking in Renee’s direction. “I think something happened with, with my leg, too,” he says uncertainly. “I’m not sure, it just felt like it.”

Davin nods his understanding. “We’ll check that, too.” And he gets up to grab his supplies, throwing them on the bed next to Conrad. Pulls on a pair of disposable gloves before he crouches back down. “You know the drill by now,” he says softly.

Conrad doesn’t answer that.

He sits in pensive silence, just watching as Davin cleans his arm, feels his skin break out in goosebumps at the coldness of the saline solution. When Davin pulls apart a packet containing a syringe, he looks away. He knows where the lidocaine goes, he doesn’t want to see it.

The tight sting of the first injection makes him lock up his jaw, although he manages to keep his face neutral. The second one isn’t so bad either. But at the third one, Conrad feels the muscles in his back seize up, and he draws in a sharp breath through his nose, curling both hands into fists. Against his better judgement, he glances at Renee. But the man isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s slumped a little in the chair, staring at the ceiling, leg still bouncing a small rhythm on the floor. Even still, Conrad looks away again, turns his head. Silently thankful for the fact that although he’s in pain, at least that pain isn’t being exploited.

The lidocaine is over relatively quickly. Conrad knew it would be. When Davin starts the actual stitches themselves, there’s no pain. Just that strange, tactile feeling of the needle poking through, of the thread being pulled together. The warmth of Davin’s hands through the gloves.

Two minutes have passed, maybe three, when Renee’s low groan resonates in the room. “Hah, fuck.” He’s still slumped in the chair, but his chest has fallen a bit, hands slack over the armrests. No fidgeting, no restlessness. He just stares at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, breathing slow and even. “Fuck,” he says again, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Davin pauses what he’s doing, raises a brow. “You alright?”

Renee’s gaze slowly drifts down to meet the other’s. Even the way he blinks seems to lag somewhat. “Mh,” he lets out.

Smirking, Davin nods. “It’s late. Maybe it’s time to go to bed, hm?”

“Yeah,” Renee concedes. Doesn’t move, just keeps looking, in a way that doesn’t really suggest he’s paying much attention to anything.

“Do you need a hand getting there?” Davin asks.

Renee frowns a little. “Where?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Oh…” Renee sniffs, swallowing. “Nah, ’m good,” he says. Slowly, very slowly, he manages to pull his legs under him, pushing off the armrests with both hands. He staggers slightly for the first step, but then seems to catch himself – until he bumps his thigh into the corner of the desk, almost knocking over Davin’s shoulder bag in an attempt to steady himself. “Shit…” And then he trots along, feet dragging on the floor as he walks past the threshold.

Once Renee has left, Davin turns back to Conrad. He looks on the verge of saying something, but it falters. Instead he just lets out a long sigh.

“Just get it, get it over with,” Conrad mutters.

Davin smirks. “Exactly.”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

Here’s a short story I wrote a little while ago-

@elliot-needs-sleep I finally remembered to post this lmao

We see our cast in the car, ten or so minutes away from the amusement park. Grayson is driving and Quinn is in the passenger seat. Asher and Harper are in the middle row, and Chris is in the back. Harper pulls her bag up onto her lap, opens it, and rummages around it for a little bit.

“What’cha lookin’ for, Harp?” Asher asks, looking over her shoulder.

“The camera. We still have to record the intro of the video.” Harper responds. After a couple seconds, she throws down her bag and groans.

Asher is looking through his bag now, pulling out his binder and testosterone pills and setting them next to him. After a minute or so, the camera is being pulled out and he has a triumphant smile on his face. Asher hands the camera over, and Harper exclaims, “Oh, my lord, you’re my savior, Ash. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She leans over and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Ugh, gross. There are other people in the car, ya know?” Chris groans from behind them. Quinn and Grayson make sounds of agreement from the front.

“Sorry, but not really. I’m starting the video now!” Harper says, turning on the camera. “Hey everyone! I’m here with Asher, Chris, Quinn, and Grayson.” As she says this, Harper turns the camera to each person as their name is said. “Tonight, we’re going to stay overnight in the abandoned amusement park in Colorado!”

—

“Guys, I’m not so sure about this…” Grayson murmurs.

“We’ll be fine, dude. Don’t be such a wuss.” Chris replies, lightly punching his arm.

“Quit it, Chris. We’ll be alright, Gray. If you ever want to leave we can just stay in the car.” Quinn says. She’s pulling her mid-back length black hair into a ponytail with one hand while the other is holding Graysons.

“Jesus Christ, just kiss already!” Harper yells at them. They both blush and pull their hands away. Asher scolds Harper, and after a couple minutes the camera was turned back on to record them entering the park.

“Okay, so, we have our cameras all set up now. Each Go-Pro is strapped to our chests, so you all have a good first person view of each of us. Big thanks to our editor for using all this footage. Love you, Kimmy!” Harper says.

All of a sudden, the camera footage is seen glitching as a shadowy figure darts from behind the group. The camera is powered off after that.

—

Our characters are now seen climbing on an old, rickety roller coaster. It’s one of the smaller wooden ones in the park, but Chris and Grayson still have issues getting up.

“Guys, can we take a break?” Chris asks, out of breath.

“We’ll take a small snack break when we get to the top. We’re almost there.” Harper says, gesturing to the top of the roller coaster. Grayson groans and Chris nods his head.

When they get to the top of the coaster, everyone sits down, and Chris pulls the snacks out from his bag. Everyone gets what they bought from the dollar general across from the house.

While they’re eating, Chris stands up to stretch. Before anyone can react, a hand reaches up from behind him and grabs his ankle. Chris is yanked backwards, and screams. Harper, who was sitting next to him, grabs onto his hand and tries her best to pull him back up to safety. Then she sees it. The Night Lurker is looking up at her with its huge, gaping eyes and too-wide smile. Chris was screaming and trying to kick it with his other foot. He kept looking at her with the “please save me” look, so when the Night Lurker's other hand starts to rip his fingers off, causing him to let go, she screams in agony for him.

His screams are cut off by a weary silence.

No one moves.

No one breathes.

Asher can be heard softly sobbing.

After what feels like forever, Harper gets up and starts to walk down to look for him. He can’t be dead, right? Everyone slowly follows.

When Harper gets down to where Chris would have been, all that’s left is a cracked Go-Pro and an ominous blood puddle.

—

“We can’t just stay here!” Harper yells at Quinn.

“Well, I’m not gonna leave Chris here alone with that…that thing!” She screams back. Grayson is trying to calm Asher down as he’s choking on his own tears and Chris is nowhere to be seen.

“CHRIS IS DEAD!” Harper shouts and everything falls silent. The trees stop rustling, the birds stop chirping, and Asher stops sobbing. Everyone is looking behind Harper, who’s standing in front of one of the concession stands that were littered around the park. “What? It’s true. Why else would the blood be there?” She says defensively. No one says anything, still looking behind her.

Harper turns around, and the Night Lurker is right behind her. She screams and runs, inviting it to chase her. Grayson and Asher are long gone, but Quinn is still standing there. She’s frozen in fear, unable to move, or run, or scream. It reaches one of its huge hands around her head and starts to squeeze. It keeps squeezing until her head pops like one of those watermelons with the rubber bands around it.

—

Now it’s Grayson's turn to be crying. He’s curled up in a ball, tears running down his flushed face. Asher is rubbing his back and trying to calm him down so they can leave. Harper is pacing the employees break room that they decided to take refuge in, trying to figure out what to do.

“Asher, hun, could you come over here real quick?” Harper asks. She needs to run an idea by him.

“Huh? I mean, yeah, one sec. You gonna be okay for a minute Grayson?” Grayson just nods, and Asher gets up from the crouching position he was in and walks over to Harper. “What’s up?”

Harper grabs his hand and pulls him closer to one of the windows. “We can’t stay here.”

“Well, duh. I don’t exactly fancy staying in an amusement park where two of our friends just got murdered and we’re being hunted.” Asher responds with an eye roll.

Harper sighs, but then laughs a little bit. “Yea, same. You have Chris’ bag, right?”

Asher nods, but hesitates before grabbing it and giving it to Harper. “Why’d you need it?”

“Our phones are in here. I wanna see if we can call the cops.” Harper says while

rummaging through the bags. “Where are they…”

Suddenly, Harper pulls out a phone with a camo case. Definitely belonged to Chris. Harper let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and turned it on. There was no cell service. “Gosh darn it!” She screamed out, slamming the phone onto the floor. Grayson and Asher both looked over at her, but their attention was turned to the window when they heard the Night Lurker walking around the outside. Harper immediately dropped onto the floor, holding her breath. Asher and Grayson slowly moved to the wall, pushing their backs up against it. They all sat there for what felt like forever until the walking noises seemed to get farther. Asher got up and started to say something when the Night Lurker broke the window by sticking its arm through it. Right where Asher was standing.

It’s sharp claw like fingers pierced through Asher’s stomach, effectively gutting him. Before it could drag him out, however, Grayson jumped in front of Asher and stabbed the Night Lurker’s arm. Its screech could be heard through the walls, and it retracted its arm from Asher's stomach. Blood gushed out of his lower torso, and a couple organs poked out. Harper ran over to him and held him as he started to fall. She ripped his shirt off, revealing numerous scars from over the years, but the most prevalent thing was the giant hole gushing blood. “No, nonononono…” Harper mumbled under her breath. Grayson turned around with his arms crossed, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Asher asked with a weak smile. He coughed, and blood came up.

“You’re,” Harper sniffles, holding back tears, “You’re gonna be fine, Ash. Just stay with me, okay? We’ll get you out of here and we’ll get cell service so we can call you an ambulance.

Asher lets out a sad laugh. “We both know I won’t make it that long. Take my phone and call the cops, we don’t need service for that. You and Grayson better get out of here, you hear me? That’s my dying wish. Oh, and tell Nugget I love him.” Asher says. His wound is bleeding much heavier, and he coughs up more blood.

“You aren’t gonna die!” Harper yells at him. Tears are streaming down her face, ruining the eye make up she always lets Asher do before they leave to go anywhere.

“Harp, we both know I am. Promise me. I want you to tell Nugget I love him when you get out. Please.”

Harper sobs and buries her face in his hair. After a minute or so, she says “Okay. I’ll tell him. Watch over us, okay?” Asher nods, and after a couple more minutes of sobbing, he goes limp in Harper's arms. She screams, and Grayson starts to pull her off his corpse. Harper is now covered in blood, but still reaches her hand into his pocket to grab his phone. When she has it in her hands, she grabs Asher's wrist and takes off the matching bracelets they always wore.

—

It was 10 years later. Harper made it out, but when she told everyone what happened she was sent to an asylum for the criminally insane. That leads us to now.

“Miss Harper, it’s time to take your meds.” The nurse calls out. Harper's cell is small, but she still insists on staying under the bed.

Harper pokes her head out from under the bed and scrambles to her feet. This is the only human interaction she gets outside of meal time. “Where’s Grayson? He still hasn’t visited me. I need to talk to him.”

The nurse sighs and makes Harper take her meds before she speaks. “We’ve been over this Miss Harper, Mister Grayson is dead. He died when Mister Asher did. You walked out of that park alone.”

[wyverber]

Hey! I’m begging on my knees for anything to do with Masky/Tim. Maybe something lovey dovey please? 🥺💖

Hi! No need to beg on ur knees Dear. could ya next time make it more specific? BC now it's kinda short :( Thanks <3

Masky and Tim relaxing after a stressful day

Masky:

Rarely is he the one of the two personality's who has to deal with a lot of stress but when it happens he's really cranky

On these day's he just wants to go home, eat a freshly cooked meal and relax in his bed.

Whether it be with an S/O or alone.

he enjoys the silence he has within his four walls.

Believe it or not he's the one who takes Bubble bath's so his body can relax, with Jazz music in the Background.

Maybe a few drinks just so his body can relax better

He would even consider going to a spa but it would look wierd consider that he is a 5'9 bear of a man

Tim

Tim is every day stressed, rarely his split personality takes the stress from him. So he doesn't know how to relax, sure his Cigarettes make him a bit less stiff but it's not relaxing

He might even go mad with how stiff he is

Most of the time he just kicks his shoes of and goes to bed.

But in rare days where he has more time he will consider a 'spa' day.

A cold shower right after a tiring shift at work, cooking as an stress relief (BC who doesn't love cooking?) Country music in the background, while waiting for the food to cool down a few Cigarettes, a whiskey bottle just for good measure and he is somewhat relaxed.

Sadly he can't relax himself well enough to sleep. Sleeping pills are his go to :(

[tobiokuns]

— surprise pregnancy with haikyuu boys

summary: you hadn’t planned for this to happen. neither of you had. but it had, and now you had to tell him.

characters: kageyama tobio, miya atsumu, akaashi keiji

tags: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, some humor, brief mention of abortion, implied body image insecurities, happy ending

— kageyama tobio

you wring your hands as you lean against the doorjamb, anxiously waiting for kageyama to come home. he’d had a long week, you know, but your first appointment with your doctor is on monday, and you think he’d like to be there if possible. at least, you’d put it off long enough.

the click of the lock unlatching and the familiar turn of the knob raises your attention. you feel like you’re going to choke under the pressure, and even seeing his face doesn’t calm you down.

if anything, you’re even more nervous, seeing the sweat on his brow.

“tobio—” you call over to him when he walks through the door, before you lose your nerve, “i’m pregnant.”

there’s a terse silence, even though kageyama just looks confused. your boyfriend blinks once, twice, and scrunches his eyebrows like he always does when he’s thinking hard, and just stares. your heart pounds in your chest.

“...but i just signed onto a new team,” he says, finally.

you make a sound of affirmation. “yeah, i know,” you sigh, smiling tightly, “but we can make it work, right?”

he kinda looks like he does when he’s setting, in deep concentration, kind of unhappy. you wait for him to say something, anything, but the silence stretches on, for so long that you think you’ll have a heart attack.

“my first doctor’s appointment is on monday,” you tell him, trying to nudge him into saying something, “do you want to come with me?”

“i can’t, i have practice,” he blurts out almost automatically, and you nod. of course he does. it’s silent for a while, and then he’s speaking again. “can’t you...” he swallows, looking away, “...not have the baby?”

don’t lose your shit, you tell yourself, don’t lose your shit. you tamp down the growing anger and nod again, making another vague humming noise.

“yeah, i could,” you agree, voice eerily quiet, “but i want the baby, tobio.”

“okay,” he nods, “...do what you want, then.” 

your heart drops. you can’t see his face, not with his bangs covering his eyes, but you stare at him for a while anyway, your own eyes stinging. you silently shuffle back into the house, leaving him standing in the doorway.

it’s awkward when he slips into bed that night. you keep your back to him, but you can almost feel his gaze on the ceiling. you don’t know when he sleeps, or if he ever does. by the time you wake up, he’s wrapped around you, leg thrown over yours, his big hand rubbing over your still flat stomach under your shirt.

he jolts awake as soon as you stir, dropping his lips against your neck and nuzzling you.

“i’m sorry about last night,” he murmurs immediately, and you’re sure he’s pouting. “y-you caught me off guard. i want it. the... the baby. with you.”

you sigh, staring at the wall opposite from you. you think of having to move again, back to japan this time. you thought that would be good for you and kageyama, but his reaction last night...

“are you sure?” you ask, covering his hand with yours, missing some of the bravado you had, “we can...”

“no,” he sounds almost childish, and you smile, wondering how he’ll be as a father, “no, i’m—i’m sure.”

his arms tighten around you. it’s not often that you get to cuddle in the morning with kageyama, not when he’s always going for jogs and volleyball practice. so you lean back, telling yourself that everything will be just fine.

— miya atsumu

“y’know, y/n...” your boyfriend says to you one day, “yer gettin’ kinda... like, fat...”

you whip your head around to stare at him, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. he cowers instinctively, waiting for you to hit him like you usually do, but your arm stops midair before you let it drop. 

you wanted to hide this a little longer, because to be honest, you were scared. scared of his reaction, scared he wouldn’t want you, scared you’d be left alone. but you sigh, knowing you couldn’t anymore, and slump against the couch.

“atsumu...” you lower your voice, and instantly he cowers more.

“i‘m sorry! i didn’t mean it like that!” he yells, hands covering his face, “don’t hit me, i’m beggin—”

“no, atsumu,” you sigh, taking his hands into yours, “listen to me.”

he sees how serious your expression is and quiets down, bowing his head and leaning closer to you. the idiot still probably thinks you’re mad because he called you fat, you think. you would’ve laughed if you didn’t feel like puking at this moment.

“i’m pregnant,” you say, taking a deep breath, “we’re gonna have a baby.”

“hah?” he retorts quickly, “we’re what? no, we’re not.”

you watch as his face changes, and then he’s off again. “no, y/n, ya can’t be pregnant. i can’t be a dad. have ya met me? samu doesn’t even have a kid yet, ‘nd that’s like, the one thing i don’t wanna beat him at and— goddammit, i shoulda used condoms—”

 “atsumu,” you almost scream, the panic bubbling up in your chest, “do you not want to do this with me?”

“but, weren’t ya on the pill or somethin’? how could this happen?” he acts as if he hadn’t heard your question,” y/n, are ya sure it’s min—”

you can’t take it anymore and burst out crying. you don’t even pay attention to the fact that he just accused you of cheating. the stress from the weeks of keeping this to yourself explodes and you sob loudly, louder than atsumu’s panicked rambling.

“shit—” he curses, seeing your tears, and quickly taking your hands into his, “y/n, ’m sorry, i—it’s just—i’m gonna be a horrible dad, ya know? i don’t know if i can do this, it’s like... i’m not very reliable ‘nd ma always said—”

“but,” you sniffle through your tears, “aren’t we doing this together?”

he nods slowly, and then moves to rest his head on your chest. he tentatively puts a hand on your stomach, rubbing his index finger over it as if it were foreign to him.

“yeah,” he agrees quietly, “we’re doing this together.”

— akaashi keiji

you knew akaashi hadn’t wanted a child, not yet at least. you knew that, and yet when he said okay the night you told him you were pregnant, you were naive enough to think that it was actually okay.

he works, all the time, very hard. it only made sense, he had told you he needed to, in order to get to where he wanted to be. but it left you many nights, belly and feet swollen, joints aching, alone on the couch, wondering what you were doing.

did you eat your vitamins? he asks softly every morning without fail. but that was it.

you went to doctor’s appointments alone, you shopped for baby clothes alone, and you stared at the empty four walls of the baby’s room alone. you were too afraid to buy furniture for it: it seemed too permanent, especially when being pregnant seemed like a repressed dream every day.

"keiji, ” you call out to him early one morning, before he can leave for work again, “...let’s not have the baby.”

he doesn’t respond and for a moment you can’t even tell if he heard you. but then he’s whipping his head around, as if he had just realized what you said, and scrambles to kneel at your side.

“what’s wrong?” he places a hand on your belly, right beside yours, like he never had, “are you feeling—”

“you’re never here!” you cry, wincing at your own screech, “i don’t want to do this alone, keiji. i can’t do this alone. the baby started kicking yesterday, you know? and you weren’t there. i didn’t even know what to do. i’m not gonna know what to do. god, we need a crib and a c-changing table, and—”

you stop when he lays his head down on your lap. 

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles faintly, his hot breath seeping through your shirt. the kitchen is silent with your sniffles. you’re so tired, from the pregnancy or everything else, but you tangle your fingers in akaashi’s hair, and it brings you just an ounce of comfort. it’s soft as always, just like it was when you had started dating.

“i’m sorry,” he says again, turning his head to the side to face you, letting your fingers drift over his cheek, “i was taking on more work, to save money for... for the baby. i hadn’t— ...i didn’t realize i was neglecting you, y/n.” 

 you look down, “y-you were what?” 

 “i took on a new author,” he tells you, “and i asked around for some freelance work. i think we’re okay financially, but you never know, so i thought it’d be good to have extra—”

“keiji,” you interrupt, voice scratchy, “were you nervous?” 

“well, yes,” he admits, leaning into your palm, “but that’s no excuse for leaving you all alone. i can drop the freelance, maybe move most of my work back home—” 

you smile, the familiar sound of akaashi overthinking things a buzz in your ears. you brush your thumb over the wrinkles between his eyebrows, tracing the lines on his face, recognizing the way his eyes tighten when he’s serious. he looks up at you. 

“do you want to come to the doctor’s with me on thursday?” you sniffle softly, smiling at him. 

“...yes,” he nods, almost like a reflex, but you can see him thinking again, his stare blanking. you reach down to intertwine your fingers with his, placing them over your belly. the focus returns to his eyes and he looks reassured, finally smiling back at you. 

“yes,” he repeats, “i’ll come with you.”

[chokemeanakin]

Sick naps

Anakin Skywalker x Reader whump + fluff

I would like to formally apologize for being a whump whore, it’s all I’m in the mood for lately idk. someone needs to give me the flu so I can stop hyperfixating on it like fckn weirdo. anyway. enjoy.

(oh ya this lil fic was heavily inspired by this photo, I just wanna ram my face into this man’s tiddys so hard. I bet they’re so warm. Sheesh.)

Wc: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

You were sitting next to Anakin as he went over battle plans in a temple room; he was sitting with one ankle crossed over his knee, arms folded over his chest, robe drifting off his shoulders like a prince’s cape. His mouth was set in a little focused pout and his eyebrows were all drawn as he took in the swirling blue projections.

You thought you would just sit next to him for a while and keep him company, but he was taking longer than you expected and you were growing very tired.

He noticed you were slumping onto his shoulder a while ago, blinking slow with exhaustion. You had mentioned before that you were tired, and he liked the soft pressure of your head on his shoulder, so he let you rest there. Before long, the warmth of his shoulder pressing into your cheek and the steady rise and fall of his breathing rocked you fast asleep. He glanced over and saw your eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, and hands limp in your lap.

His face softened. It couldn’t be comfortable how you’re sleeping and he didn’t want your neck to hurt when you woke up. So he carefully maneuvered you onto his lap, hushing your small grumbles as you woke up little bit, realizing what he was doing.

His chest was a whole lot warmer than his shoulder though, and you melted into his body, protected from the chill of the room by his big arms.

He brought the edges of his robe up around you, cocooning you against his chest with your legs straddling his hips. Your hands wound themselves around his waist, hugging him close as you drifted back off to sleep.

Anakin knew it was past the usual time you went to sleep, but he still had some more work to do before he could take you back to your room. So he gently rested his chin on your shoulder and continued going over battle strategies, sacrificing one arm to type in some tweaks to the new starfighter blueprints.

It was nice like this, cuddled up in his arms, his body heat staving off the occasional chills that racked your body. His metal arm absentmindedly smoothed up and down the expanse of your back, softened by his leather glove. The security of his arms around you, his scent, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek had put you in a coma-like slumber.

But soon the cold spread, grew deeper, and it was as if your bones themselves were frozen. Not even the desert boy’s body heat could thaw you out. He noticed your trembling right away, and how you brought your hands up under your chin to conserve heat. They grasped at the material covering his chest, as if urging him even closer.

Against your wishes, he pulled back a few inches to glance at your face. It was no longer peaceful— instead there was a crease between your brows and your mouth was set in a firm pout. Quick, shuttering breaths left your parted lips, and your cheeks were flushed pink.

He brought the hand up that he was using to type, brushing the back of it against your forehead. Warm. His fingers trailed down the side of your face with the softness of a feather, using the pad of his thumb to brush your hair off your cheek and feel the heat of your blush underneath.

Definitely a fever.

How had he not noticed? You were unusually sluggish today, but wrote it off due to the rainy weather. Still, you had barely touched your dinner and complained of being cold long before the sun had set. Now, he felt awful for letting you stay up with him so late when you clearly weren’t feeling well.

Sighing inwardly, Anakin closed and locked the holo-projector. With the low hum of the machinery gone, he could clearly hear the little whimpers leaving your lips every so often. His heart ached at the sound, face morphing into one of concern and deep resentment for his neglectfulness.

Carefully, without waking you this time, he slid one arm under your thighs so that he could lift you up, keeping you secure to his chest with his other arm around your back. Instinctually, your arms wound themselves around his neck. He stood, hand rubbing soothing circles into the space between your shoulder blades as your shivers grew violent with the loss of his robe around you.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” he hushed. “You’ll be in bed soon sweetheart, just hold on.”

With a flick of his wrist, the lights in the room powered off and he strode through the sliding doors, not bothering to check if anyone was roaming the halls this late at night. The walk to his room was brisk, the breeze of him walking sliding past your back, but he got there quick and set you down in a nest of blankets and pillows right away.

You sighed in content and rolled over to bury yourself deeper into his sheets, but he stopped you with a hand to the shoulder.

“Not yet baby, I need to take your temperature.”

He was gone for a moment and back in the next, urging your mouth open with a thumb on your lip, and subsequently your eyes too. You blinked at his adorable frown through bleary vision, holding the metal stick under your tongue before he took it out. His frown deepened at the number.

“Right, well it looks like you won’t be leaving this bed anytime soon.”

You groaned, throwing your head into the nearest pillow.

“S’not that bad,” your muffled voice argued, though your aching body said otherwise. Mostly you just didn’t want him to worry.

He chose to ignore you, instead putting the thermometer away and returning again with some medicine and a glass of water. He helped you sit up and take it, holding your back with his gloved hand and tipping the rim of the cup between your lips with his other. The seriousness on his face as he watched you swallow the pills had you thinking this was life or death, rather than a simple little cold.

“Sleep now,” he urged, tone softened as he tucked your hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Copy that, General,” you replied sluggishly, already lowering yourself back into the pillows. As an afterthought, you smooshed yourself right up against the leg that was resting on the bed, snaking your arms around his waist in hopes that he would take the hint.

He hesitated for a moment, knowing it would be better to let you rest up on your own while he got his affairs in order for tomorrow. But seeing your sweetly flushed face, hands reaching out for him, fingers grasping the material of his tabards— he couldn’t resist you.

Carefully, he kicked off his boots and swung his other leg over the side of the bed, fitting an arm around your shoulders and moving you onto his chest. With the drugs in your system making you sleepy and Anakin’s protective arms around you, it wasn’t long before you were limp and dreaming.

[meds4beatlemania]

Til There was You (one-shot)

A/N: for Day 1 of McLennon week 2022, the theme was Hamburg. So, enjoy this one-shot where John is injured after a night out and Paul comes to his rescue!

John couldn’t remember the last he’d looked at the time. He hadn’t needed to - with a pop of Pep pills and the cheapest German beer the Silver Beatles could splurge on, it was like his fingers teleported from a bottle to his guitar’s fret to the tits of some hammered bird in the Star’s alleyway. With his drugged brain compressing the hours of sweating and screaming into minutes, who needs to keep track? 

She was German, that much his drunk ‘n drugged mind understood. He could not speak a word of German.  However, he did speak “horny drunk” and - how serendipitous! - she was looking for some action, too. 

It ended quick, though. They might’ve made out for almost an hour - probably not even that, and she wanted out. She shoved him off of her. 

“Oomf!” John’s lungs compressed against the back of his ribs as the bird left in tears. His head banged against the rough bricks of the neighboring bar. He groaned as his ass hit the asphalt, ruining his leather trousers. He got up and stumbled in a circle as his brain worked on over drive - getting his lungs to take in air normally again, pumping adrenaline to his ass and head; pumpong blood to keep him warm; discarding the Pep and producing the melatonin that it had prohibited; kicking his memory like a dead lawnmower - Where did the guys go? When did it get so cold? How long has it been? What the fuck happened to my watch? Where’s our room? 

Oh, he was screwed.  

Well, John concluded, better start walking. 

There was nary a thought behind John’s eyes as tried to appear sober along Hamburg’s nightlife. He braced the back of his head - a migraine starting to form. He brought his hand back, wiping the metallic sweat on his clothes. He mumbled some lyrics - vaguely reminiscent of Mama Thornton’s Hound Dog, mixed with Elvis’ version.  

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog, 

Been snoopin ‘round my door 

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog

Well, you ain’t ever got caught a rabbit,

Don’t think of comin’ ‘round here no more 

As he came around to a dry, empty alleyway, every step on loose gravel pierced the nerves of his feet. Exhausted, sweaty, aching, and crashing from his high, he gave up on finding their room.

 Better luck in the morning, perhaps.

He yawned, leaning head against the wall for support. 

So, so many footsteps echoed down the alleyway. 

“There you are!” 

Nah, he’s probably just talking to a cat. 

“Oh, you fucking moron.” John winced as the footsteps got louder - closer. Through the drowsiness, his memory lit up as a familiar face was outlined. 

“Just…wanna fucking..fuckin sleep…” 

“You can sleep when we get to the room. Or a hospital.”  Paul grunted as he tried to lift his friend from the ground. 

“Noooo..” 

“Shit, can you stand? Like, at all? Can’t do this alone, ya know!” 

“Fuchkoff!” John forced his legs to at least squat, and Paul finally had enough leverage to lift John by his shoulder. 

“That’s it..That’s it…Lean on me, now.” 

“Than..christ.” John only had to make his feet move, no matter how much they ached in his cowboy boots. 

 “So what the fuck happened?” 

“Dunno. Some bird just…” he weakly gestured a pushing movement, trying to find the words for it. 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. I must’ve hit it hard, me head’s bleedin’, I think.” Everything lifted from his shoulders-  his weight, the migraine, the sleepiness. Maybe he was beginning to feel better. Until his ears started to get blurry. 

“Yeah. Made it easy to follow you.” 

“What?” He squinted, trying to hear his friend. 

“Yeah, ye left a bit of a trail - drops of blood starting at the club, right past our room, and back to the club.” Paul chuckled. 

John sighed, preferring not to talk. 

When they finally got back the room, it was repulsive. Everything about it would’ve caused Mimi to have a heart attack - the pile of moldy vomit next to George’s bed, George sleeping half-way off of the edge, Pete -for some reason- slept on the floor with a blanket and pillow next to a stripped bed, and Klaus was on a train to Liverpool with Astrid. 

Paul assessed John’s wound.

Yer mum was a nurse, wasn't she?

No. She was a midwife.

Oh, same difference.

He grimaced as John winced at every moving strand of hair  “I..uh..I don’t think ye lost too much blood. Hard to tell. Might be better to get it checked in the morning, though.” 

“I could die by then.” John whined. 

“Oh, shove it, softie.” Paul chuckled. He lightly poked John’s wound. “No, straight up, you’ll be fine.” 

“Okay. “ John yawned, leaning back on the naked bed. He stretched, and yawned, popping his jaw a little. “Night, Macca.” 

“Night, Lenny.” 

Paul turned out the light and settled on the floor, falling asleep and silently dreading the morning back pain as much as his friend’s morning agony.

[omg-imagine]

Loopy

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is a little loopy from her anesthesia, and Johnny finds it amusing.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Requested by @thescorpionrodriguez. Hope you enjoy!

“Come on, V, wake the fuck up already.”

Silence. Johnny swears he could hear a pin drop.

V’s body remains lax on the bed; her eyes wound shut as if she were sound asleep. Slow and rhythmic, the rise and fall of her chest were calming, lulling. For once, she looks to be in peace, a rare moment for those who live and breathe in Night City.

She had been lucky. Extremely lucky. Two or three millimeters more to the right and the bullet that pierced her abdomen would have hit an organ. By some miracle, it missed anything vital and had exited out cleanly. It did fucking hurt judging by the sound of her agonizing groans, but here she was—still kicking, still alive.

And Johnny’s relieved that she was. They may not get along at times, but he genuinely cares for V. Hell, he would even consider her a good friend. She could call him a snarky asshole as often as she wants (and she does), yet he knows that deep down, she too has grown a soft spot for the rocker boy.

It’s been hours since the mission that went awry, and Johnny was getting pretty antsy. Vik had to put V down while he worked on repairing her cyberware. Nothing major, though the anesthesia should have certainly worn out by now. Much to Silverhand’s surprise, the ripperdoc wasn’t acting all too worried about it. He thinks V could use the sleep since he’s aware of how little she’s been getting.

Unfortunately, Johnny was all but a patient man. Bored out of his damn mind, he’s tired of roaming around the operating room, waiting and waiting for V to regain consciousness. Johnny’s more than ready to leave, perhaps grab a smoke afterward. He hasn’t gone this long without one lately, and he can’t enjoy one if V’s lying here, knocked out cold.

Nearly the rest of the day flies by, and the sun begins to set. That’s when he feels it; a spark—a familiar jolt of electricity emitting in the depths of V’s mind. Johnny manifests by her bedside, watching as her body finally stirs awake. That’s my girl, he silently praises, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. V’s eyes flutter open, taking a minute to survey her surroundings before her line of sight lands on him.

“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Johnny quips, leaning closer. “You doing alright, kid?”

V doesn’t respond. Rather, she bursts into a fit of giggles out of nowhere.

What the fuck?

Bewildered, Johnny glances everywhere but notices nothing amusing of the sort. “Care to share what you find so funny?”

“You’re too good looking to be my nurse,” V drawls, no doubt experiencing side effects from the anesthesia.

“I’m no nurse, princess, but thanks,” he corrects her. Then, it dawns on him. “You recognize me?”

She blinks at him blearily, the gears in her head turning as she tries to put a name to the face. “I dunno, should I?”

“It’s Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Again, V chuckles, a light-hearted tone that Johnny rarely hears, but they were sweet music to his ears when he does.

“Nope, zero bells. Are you like my husband or something?”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Husband? Oh, no, honey. We ain’t even gone on a date yet. I’d say, think of us as partners-in-crime.”

“Wait!” V blurts out, gasping. “I remember you. You’re from that band—Samurai, right? God, I used to listen to your songs a lot as a kid.”

“Huh, you told me you’d never heard of Samurai,” Johnny recalls, slightly entertained at this point. “Didn’t peg you as a fangirl, V. I’m flattered.”

“So, can I… y’know, get your autograph?”

Just before Johnny could continue playing around with a loopy V, Viktor strolls in with Misty in tow, both delighted to find the merc out of her prolonged slumber. He lingers by the foot of her bed as Vik explains to V what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be processing it. She stares at him, dazed, and Johnny wonders when she’ll be back to normal.

“The effects should go away in a few hours,” Vik informs Misty once he’s examined V. She’s healing nicely and isn’t complaining much, yet that could be because of all the painkillers she was jacked with. “I’d say watch over V until she can stand on her own two feet without tripping. Other than that, she’s good to go.”

“Where are we going?” a clueless V asks, looking back and forth between the two. “Is Johnny coming?”

Misty furrows her brow at her. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, mister sex on legs over there,” she points eagerly, and Johnny smirks at that. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

Vik shakes his head before reminding Misty of the engram residing within V’s psyche. “Oh, yeah. Silverhand. Uh, I guess he could come, too. Don’t really have much of a choice there, doll.”

The walk back to V’s apartment was a journey in itself. Lucky for her, she was pushed in a wheelchair throughout it all as Johnny stays visible for her benefit. They reached the door just before the skies turned completely dark, the warmth and comfort of the room being somewhat familiar to V.

Misty carefully moves her onto the bed, propping her up with pillows behind her back before smoothing out the blankets covering her legs. Johnny observes from a distance, quiet in his pondering. He’s never seen V this vulnerable before. She’s always been incredibly independent, not to mention stubborn as hell. She won’t accept anyone’s help unless it’s dire, and even then, she’s reluctant to do so.

“You must be starving,” Misty comments once V is settled. “How about I get you somethin’ to eat downstairs. Better food than what’s here, if there’s any. Hang tight for a bit, ’kay?”

Nodding, Misty then heads out of the room, the front door sliding shut when she’s gone, leaving V in the presence of Johnny yet once again. He glitches to sit by the edge of the mattress as V stares at him incredulously. Her eyes shone what he could best describe as innocence; she truly has no clue of what they’ve gone through together in the previous months.

“Can you sing me a song?”

Johnny narrows his gaze, a small chuckle rumbling in his throat at her deliriousness. “I don’t do concerts anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” V pouts, almost child-like in her ways. “Pleeease?”

“No,” he refuses sternly before an idea comes to mind. “How about you sing to me? Said you were a fan. Give me a performance, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

V does not hesitate. On cue, she starts to serenade Johnny with one of Samurai’s greatest hits, going as far as imitating the gruffness of his voice. Off-beat and lyrics garbled, V belts out the tune confidently and loud enough that her irritated neighbors began banging on the wall, yelling at her to quit it.

She ignores them, of course.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s having the time of his life. It was quite endearing to him, although embarrassing for V if she later finds out about this. Yet, he doesn’t stop her. He encourages her even further by singing along, not giving a fuck in the world.

At the end of the song, Johnny laughs heartily along with V, who had crawled closer to him. Their eyes meet for a moment that seems to last longer than it actually did. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

“You’re pretty cool, Silverhand,” V mumbles sleepily, touching the cold surface of his chrome arm. Sighing, Johnny guides her drowsy self back under the covers, certain that she would crash in the next minute or two. “I think you should take me on a date. We’d be a hell of a couple together.”

“I think you’re going to regret everything that’s happened just now when you wake up in the morning,” he returns, and there was a slight pang in his chest.

V only hums in response, and he doubts he had even heard what he last said. It doesn’t matter, however. Johnny was sure she wouldn’t want to bring this up again.

---

“Fuck…” V exhales groggily, her blinking eyes wincing at the bright sunlight flooding into the room. She feels pain all over, her head throbbing immensely as she tries to gather memories of the day prior. It comes back in bits and pieces until suddenly, she remembers everything.

Everything.

“Good morning, princess,” Johnny greets after materializing before her, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “How ya feelin’? Still loopy or need a little more refreshing from ‘mister sex on legs?’”

V’s reflexes are quick; Johnny doesn’t even register the pillow being hurled at him at first. He only realizes it when the empty glass bottles on the center table falls to the floor, shattering and making a mess.

“You’re lucky you’re just a hologram, right now,” V muttered as she stands up unsteadily.

Johnny holds his hands up. “You were the one who said it.”

Rolling her eyes, V reaches for the painkillers Misty left on the side. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, but at least let me tell you that you’ve got a shitty voice.”

“That’s why I don’t do karaoke,” V snorts before swallowing the pills and heading to the couch. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny questions.

“You, me, dinner?”

V waits for his reaction, smiling coyly at his confusion. When Johnny finally understands what she was referring to, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, are you fucking serious?”

She lets out a chortle. “Yeah, I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mortified about last night, and I’m never going to let Vik knock me out with that stuff again. But hey, the truth came out. Might not have remembered you, but even while high as fuck, I knew I liked you.”

Briefly, they traded a look of longing, acknowledging at last this deeper connection they’ve felt for a while. It was much more than sharing a body, a mind. Something more profound than what Johnny and V have experienced before in their lives.

And though it was all entirely new to them, they both wanted it. They both wanted each other.

“Better get to it then,” Johnny flashes a grin, mirroring V’s own. “Wanna start with breakfast? Bet you’re hungry after skipping what Misty brought you, samurai.”

“Never going to live that one down, are ya?”

Shooting her a cheeky wink, Johnny throws on his stylish pair of aviators with ease.

“You bet your ass I’m not.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental @life-is-fuucked @ataraxydreams

[mxtantrights]

past lives | epilogue

a/n: time to look forward. and back. this doesn’t feature a big time jump. I’m gonna make an ending so cheesy... I think I’ve left this story pretty open so that you can insert whatever you want / envision for yourself. Once again thank you all who kept up and read or who’s gonna binge read once this comes out! Love ya <3

You opened your front door and there they all were. Most importantly Alfred. You had to show the man you could cook and fend for yourself if need be. Even though others couldn’t say the same.

“Great you’re all here. Come in, I’ve got the table set up and everything.” you said. 

They walk in one-by-one into your home. You were up last night tossing and turning because it really wasn’t much. They didn’t all live in the manor currently but they all had lived there previously. 

You eyed Damian specifically, to see his reaction to your place. He hadn’t been inside of it yet. Only ever on the fire escape and even that needed some work. You watched as took one swift look around and nodded at you. 

“It’s quaint.” he said.

“Did you just call me cheap or something?” you said.

“It was a compliment.”

“You hesitated.”

-

You wince as Alfred wrapped up your lower stomach. It was to help the swelling he said. You were sitting up on the bed in the guest bedroom. 

“May I ask what caused such bruising.” he asks.

You look over at Bruce who’s out of his nighttime suit and is watching from across the room. 

“A really big box.” 

You see Tim leaning against the door archway, hands behind his back. Bruce was Batman and Damian was Robin. That meant the Tim shaped Red Robin was Tim. He steps further into the room and reveals his hands.

He hands you two pills, “for the pain.”

You take them out of his hands and put them into your mouth. Then he hands you an opened water bottle. You take that and gulp down the pills, you have to tilt you head back a bit. 

When you tilt it back forward you feel the hammering of the punches again. It makes you wince. Alfred had already did the best he could with your face. No stitches thankfully. But just bandages and ointments.

“So how long have you known I was his child?” you ask Tim.

He shrugs his shoulders, “After the gala before the lunch interview”

“You mean the set up to get my DNA.”

He winces when you say that. 

“Tomatoe, tomato.”

Alfred lets you know that he’s done wrapping you and that you should lay down and try to get some rest. Which you don't argue with, you get the feeling that you don’t really argue with a man like him. He helps you pull your shirt down.

So you lean back slowly into the bed. You try to hold back the sounds of pain but one slips past your lips. This makes Tim and Bruce stand over your bed.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna die from a couple beatings from Ra’s.” You say plainly.

And it hurts Bruce. Damian had told him that you were in the league years before. But he could tell the harsh treatment you suffered there stayed with you. You were able to take so many hits from Ra’s it was something he never wanted to witness in his life.

“Any normal person would.” Tim says.

Bruce looks over at him.

“Well after I came out the pit things changed.” You answer.

They both look at you then. You figured Damian told at least Bruce that you were brought back to life by the pit. Maybe he was leaving that to you to discuss. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. Get some-” Bruce begins.

Then you hear the incoming footsteps to your new room. Sure enough Damian pops into view in the doorway. He wastes no time in running over to you, stopping short of hugging you once he sees the wrappings peeking through your newly acquired pajamas.

“Alfred says you’ll live.” he says.

You nod you head lightly, as to not start another headache before the ibuprofen kicks in. 

“You got there right in time.”

“I shouldn’t have let him get to you in the first place.” 

“Wasn’t your fault, besides I can handle myself.” 

“Obviously not look at your face.”

“I was in retirement. Cut me some slack.”

Bruce interrupts the impromptu match the both of you were having. Even though a part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to see the two of you interact more, since the both of you were family after all.

“Time to rest, say goodnight Damian.”

Damian takes another look over you. 

“Goodnight.”

He walks out the door with his brother and father. And they shut the lights on their way out. You're thankful you get to shut your eyes for a bit. The homecoming Ra’s gave you was anything but sweet.

By morning time, you wake up to find Damian sleeping in a chair at the end of your bed. He has a blanket pulled over his form, from either Alfred or Bruce you take it.

-

“Thanks for offering to do the dishes with me. I know Alfred is probably losing it in there.” You said.

Bruce looked at you with a laugh, “Yeah.”

When you handed the last dish for him to dry and cut off the sink you didn’t make a move to leave the kitchen. You had some words to say to him now that everything was out in the open.

“I wanna be clear, that day when you hinted at the recorder being on and me hearing your conversation with the others, I wasn’t rejecting you.” 

Bruce stopped drying the plate for a second. You saw him falter. He tried to pick up like it didn’t happen but you saw it. Instead of letting him continue you grabbed the plate from him.

He looked at you. 

“You weren’t?”

You shake your head, “No. I think you're a great guy, from what I know at least. And you had to be or my mother wouldn’t have liked you. Nor would she had wanted me to find you.”

“About your mother-”

“We can talk about her another time. I’m talking about you Bruce Wayne. I wanted to let you know that I do wanna figure out this relationship. I couldn’t say anything before because there was things I was unsure of.”

He cleared his throat.

“Like me?”

“No I wasn't unsure of you. I was unsure of how you would react about me and my past. I was your secret child who had been murdered and brought back to life by a mercenary who trained me to kill. On top of that, I had unknowingly cared for your youngest son before either of us knew anything.” you said.

He nodded his head at your words.

“But I think I knew I was sure of you when you wanted to fake me out about the added information in your interview. When you let me walk away.” you said.

Bruce tried to hide a grin but he couldn’t do it, “I thought you rejected me that day.”

“I was trying to protect you. Before I knew who you were during the night time, that is.”

“So now that you know, how do we do this?” he asked.

You hold up on finger, “First, you will not send me money. I make enough as it is and I do not need more.”

“Maybe just a savings account then.” 

“No, Bruce, no accounts. And no secret accounts either, I’ve heard from Alfred about your little set ups and such.”

“Sneaky.”

“I like him”

- 

When you finally get to the dinning room in the morning everyone, sans Alfred, is waiting for you. You hold onto your wrapping as you take the open seat next to Damian and across from Jason.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry for flirting with you before I knew you were family.” Jason says.

He doesn’t sound that sorry, which makes you look over at Damian. He’s got a proud smirk on his face. You face forward again.

“It’ll never happen again right Todd?” he asks.

Jason mumbles something indescribable. 

Then the room is filled with a moment of silence. It’s not really awkward per say, but you think it’ because they all have so many questions they don’t know where to start.

“So you guys LARP every night?” you ask.

Tim busts out laughing along with Dick. Jason crosses his arms over his chest with a chuckle. Damian, who you can tell is looking at you like you’ve grown another head, isn’t laughing. Neither is Bruce. Like father, like son you guess.

“I think you’re gonna fit right in.” Dick says.

“Speaking of which, are you gonna live here now?” Damian asks point blank.

Bruce beings to apologize for him but you shake your head and let him know it’s alright.

“I’m going to remain at my own residence. If you wanna come over you know the way.”

Jason has a look of shock on his face and Damian stops him. 

“Shut it Todd.”

-

A knock comes from your front door. It must be one of them, maybe they forgot something? You jog over to the door and open it.

Dick Grayson is in your doorway. 

“Did you leave something here?” you asked.

“No, I just wanted to say that I’m glad you're a part of the family. Honestly I’ve never seen Damian so calm before. And not his typical calm where he’s planning out every exit, this is different. It’s like he’s a normal kid.” he said.

You are speechless for a moment. 

“Thank you for letting me know, Dick.” you smiled.

“Gotta get going, a flight to catch.” 

You nodded you head, “Jason said you were in between red-heads. Do I wanna know what that means?”

He chuckled.

“I’ll let you know when I visit again, gotta go meet Wally.” he said.

Then he left with a simple wave. You could tell he wanted to hug you but didn’t want to cross any boundaries you might’ve had. In all honesty you would’ve hugged him back. You can see a bit of him in Damian and you’re thankful. 

You closed the door and turned the lock. 

-

As the rest of the boys cleared out, Bruce slid over your phone. The new one that you thought you had dropped on the sidewalk when you were taken. You reach for it and it’s totally fine.

You look up at him.

“Thanks, how did you get this?” 

“Nyssa.” 

Her name makes you still. She was never going to contact you after that night. Whatever friendship the two of your had was over. It was going to be hard to come to terms with but you’d have to make do.

But why did Nyssa have your phone?

“But this was on the ground last time I checked.” you asks.

“We saw on cctv, she picked it up while you were being put into the van. She had it on her the whole time, she’s the reason we were able to find you. Nyssa turned it on and it pinged a tower.” he answers.

Maybe it would be the last thing she ever did for you. Saving your life. You didn’t know what to think about her actions. It all felt like a past life or something.

You turn it on and see that you have unread messages and unanswered calls. Spanning days.

“How do I have all of this on my phone?” “I might’ve asked a favor from Killer Croc. It’s just the SIM card don't worry.”

“You mean Batman asked Killer Croc to find my phone?” 

“He told me it wasn’t that far from where you dropped it, outside of your building.”

“What I’m hearing is you and Killer Croc talk one-on-one.”

-

About fifteen minutes later, after Dick returned, there was a knock you were expecting. It came from your fire escape. You hurried your way into your room and drew up the blinds. There he was.

You slid open the window.

“Hurry up and get in, it’s fuckin cold out there and I’ve got nothing on.” you said.

He climbed through the window and stood toe to toe with you. 

“I can see that. Nice tank top.” he joked.

You raised your eyebrows at him, “You know I can just kick you out of my home you horny bastard.” 

“Oh but then we couldn’t all the fun stuff.”

“That would indeed be the point Jason.”

He kissed the top of your head. Then he began to peel off his jacket. The same one that he wore to the gala when you first met. He looked just as good right now as he did that night. The cigarette smell might’ve added to that too. He placed it over the chair that sat in the corner of your room near the window.

It was a quick, like lighting really, and you saw him move his eyes away but he looked at your scar below your collarbone. It stuck out like a sore thumb when you two weren’t rolling around in the dark.

But before you can say something to him, he speaks.

“I never told you this, but I think we must’ve ran into each other before all of this.” he says.

You tilt your head, “where would I run into you, Jason Todd?”

“I’m not sure, maybe in a past life or something.” he shrugs.

You watch as he walks past you, heading to the kitchen no doubt. Out of the both of you your fridge is the better choice for actual food and not takeout. You follow behind him, only up until your room’s doorway which you lean your body against. And you think to yourself, you have a couple of past lives now.

[robinsarm]

Heya!! Can I get some sleepy Quentin headcanons? I'm on a "monster befriends human" kick, so maybe something involving that? You said you needed ideas, so here ya go?

Sleepy Quentin, huh, @chaoticlovingdreamer? I think I can scrounge up a couple >:3

I assume that a lot of people see Quentin as a pill or caffeine fiend, especially while he lived in the real world. But what I think some people forget is that he also has ADD/ADHD as stated by his movie. Do you understand what lack of medication and exhaustion does to a person with ADHD? It's not fun, I'll say that much.

When Quentin is really hitting the bottom of his energy tank he gets more and more distant from everyone else. He'll stop talking, start sitting further away from the fire, and intrusive/depressing thoughts start to riddle his mind. Since a healthy dose of sleep isn't on the menu for Quentin usually, he'll start to cope with his exhaustion in other ways; other ways that aren't healthy and can be left up to the imagination for now.

Some of the survivors that have been there the longest have learned to spot these signs from Quentin before he begins "coping". They'll immediately get up and take him for walks or bring him back to the fire and in front of 20+ other sets of eyes. Claudette, Ace, Meg, and Laurie are usually the nicest and manage to cheer him up faster than anyone else. Steve, in recent years, has also grown to notice and make sure his teammate is okay.

Have you ever seen the joke of someone getting hit in the head on a cartoon and they fall flat on their face, knocked out? Visualize that, and realize Quentin does that on a regular basis just without the hitting part. Like someone with narcolepsy, when Quentin’s brain and body are tired of being awake, he’s out like a light; heaven forbid he’s standing near anything sharp when this happens. From time to time, Quentin will just suddenly fold like a GMOD player hit their kill key. There’s no waking him up for a while after that. So far, it’s never happened in a trial; who knows why, Quentin is just grateful for that much. 

When Quentin is tired and actually decides that he’d rather sleep then Collapse™, he will pass out just about anywhere. On the logs, in the bushes, up a tree (won’t do that anymore because he’s prone to falling out of said trees), on someone. Quentin has no shame when it comes to finding a place to rest his head for a minute and the others, for the most part, are fully understanding.  

Sleepy Quentin can also be confused with what Drunk Quentin would look like, only in his movements, however. I’d compare it to those really yanking pulls that Boiled Over can do in-game that just send the killer 5 meters to the left. Yeah...Quentin will do that a lot when he’s really tired. It’s normal to see him firmly planted on the ground when he’s extra tired just so he doesn’t fall into something or someone. (He took out a game of Blackjack that Ace and Bill were playing and felt incredibly bad afterwards) If Quentin can help it, he won’t move when he’s on the very verge of passing out. 

Not so much headcanons but two scenarios I’d like to imagine have happened to Quentin:

I.

Quentin doesn’t sleep due to Freddy’s constant torment that he resumes every time the survivor falls asleep. But Quentin isn’t the only one Freddy torments. It’s been known that Freddy will hop from person to person if Quentin goes for too long without sleeping. However, the killer once made the mistake of pulling the same shit on the Legion which earned him a proper beating from the four teens afterwards. Because of this, the Legion made sure that the Nightmare can’t enter Ormond unless he’s in a trial. 

(I have a personal headcanon that killers can ask the Entity to block a different killer from entering their realm if given proper reasoning, and that’s how I’d see the Legion being able to keep Freddy out of Ormond)

Quentin, by an odd string of occurrences, ends up at Ormond and gets to talking to the killers - since they’re in a good mood. One of them brings up how shitty Quentin looks and actually offers if he’d want to sleep there for a bit. Quentin, taken slightly off guard, shrugs the invitation off, explaining Freddy would just show up and start attacking him again. The Legion, ever so boastful, counters with their story and clue him in on the fact that the Nightmare can’t enter the realm outside of a trial. Quentin’s not buying it but the killers insist just to prove themselves right, eventually having to hold the boy at knife-point to get him to stay and sleep. After a three hour, uninterrupted nap, Quentin wakes up and realizes they were telling the truth.

Regardless, Quentin doesn’t trust the Legion. However, if he’s feeling exceptionally tired and has a few 100k bloodpoints lying around, Quentin will pay the Legion to let him sleep for a few hours, undisturbed. They’re happy to take his money and he’s happy to sleep off his exhaustion.

Still, Quentin does sleep at the fire on occasion; he does only because of the fact Freddy wants him. If Freddy can’t get to Quentin, he’ll start tormenting and hurting his friends. Since Quentin doesn’t want that, he keeps his trips to Ormond few and far between. 

II.

There’s one killer Quentin never thought in his life he’d manage to “befriend” outside of trials. Slinger is a fat no; the man is still a hard-ass to everyone other than Zarina. The Yamaoka family keep to themselves and kill anything on sight. The original four are apathetic towards everyone. Michael, Freddy, Ghostface, Pinhead, Nemesis, Pyramidhead - all psychopathic monstrosities that earned their own circle in hell. I could go on.

No, of all the killers to actually show any sort of compassion (or just lack of hostility) towards Quentin was the Demogorgon. 

It started during a horribly unfortunate trial on Azarov’s. Felix and Yun-Jin were long since dead, leaving only Quentin and Feng to do the last two generators. The thing was, Feng seemed to be trying her absolute hardest to screw Quentin over every time the killer got close. She ran in front of him while they were both running from the killer, she blocked pallets, blocked windows, if the killer got close she immediately hid behind anything large enough. Sure she apologized at the beginning of the trial, but those quickly trailed off. Quentin just wasn’t in the mood for it. So, when he went down for his third and final time due to Feng’s not-so-subtle body blocking, Demo surprised both of them by not picking up the boy immediately. Instead, the killer hunted down Feng (for all of 20 seconds) and threw her onto a hook immediately, not leaving her until she was dead and gone. Quentin had the foresight to bring Unbreakable before entering the trial, so, by the time Feng had reached second stage, he was up and running. 

Even though hatch was visible before Feng died Quentin couldn’t find the damn thing to, literally, save his life. As he ran back into the territory where the killer was last, Quentin’s hope began to dwindle more and more as he heard and saw nothing. Demo, seeming to appear out of thin air, found him first and shred-tackled him into the dirt. On his back, Quentin thought he was going to be mori’d for sure, but then something...worse happened. The killer regurgitated Feng’s med kit onto his chest then stepped off and away from Quentin. Quentin didn’t know whether to thank the killer or puke himself. The amount of slime and saliva that drenched his clothing and neck had him pressing his mouth shut tight. What the hell is this killer doing? was the only thought in Quentin’s mind as he pealed the kit from his chest. 

Quentin didn’t believe that Demo could sit on his haunches like a dog before that trial, but he does now. 

The killer only watched as Quentin used the non-soaked medical supplies on himself until he was fully healed. Afterwards, the killer rose and started walking towards the killer shack. When Demo realized Quentin wasn’t following, it turned back, pathed behind the survivor, and herded him towards the decrepit building. Quentin had seen a lot when it came to weird shit, but this experience was quickly climbing the list. Rounding the far corner of the shack, Quentin found the hatch humming where it usually was. He turned and saw the Demogorgon, not trying to stop him but lying down like it was ready to take a nap. 

Quentin pointed to the hatch with his free hand. “I can have that?” The killer, not understanding human speech, looked down at the hatch then back up to Quentin. The survivor figured that was good of an answer as any, thanked the killer with a shaky voice, and hopped into the backdoor exit. 

Ever since that trial, Quentin has had this weird relationship with the Demogorgon. It’s fully based off the killer’s mood at the time, but for the most part, the pair seem to respect one another at the very least. Some trials, Demo will slaughter everyone mercilessly; others, the killer attacks everyone but Quentin. The survivor hasn’t found any rhyme or reason to the killer’s decision on how to treat him that day, but he’s grateful for the break when they come. 

[masterkief]

request: honestly we need more ryan stuff! literally anything- my favorite stories are ones where the reader & the boy are friends (with benefits maybe idk) and everyone is basically taking bets on whether or not they'll end up together ya know? But I'll take literally anything haha

hiii @cornye-west here’s your request, I really hope you enjoy it. I tried to keep it as close to what you wanted as I could! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻💕

- -

My body was hot. I could feel the sun beating down on my tightly shut eyes and I was trying to ignore the sweat dripping down the nape of my neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tighter I searched for more sleep but couldn’t find it. A headache was beginning to creep its way into my temples giving me no choice but to force open my eyes. Taking in my surroundings I noticed an arm draped over my waist, the hand attached to it gripping my hip. Moving my head to the side, my gaze met a peaceful looking Ryan; his face buried in his pillow. A small smile pulled at my lips, but not very long before an emptiness filled my gut.

I told myself to stop letting this happen...but I always ended up in the same position.

- -

We met through mutual Twitch friends and out of them all Ryan and I clicked the most. Our relationship was the type where we bullied each other to no end. Fake fighting, telling one another we hated the other when clearly we didn’t, etc. But then...things changed. There was a particular night where everyone else had fallen asleep, leaving Ryan and I alone. Not wanting to “disturb them”, Ryan suggested we finish movie night in his room with a sly expression I’ll never be able to forget. Drunk and secretly pining over him, I agreed. One thing lead to another and before I knew it Ryan was behind me telling me how good it felt to “finally” be inside me. Now here we were a year later still randomly waking up together.

Shaking the thought from my already aching head, I slowly removed Ryan’s arm so that I wouldn’t wake him up; tiptoeing from the room for Tylenol. Closing the door quietly, I made my way to the kitchen, looking around at the destruction from last nights “wine and video game” night. Jackson was knocked out half naked on the couch cowboy hat still on, but none of the other boys were where we left them last night.

“Hi Lego.” I whispered to the pup, creeping past him. One of his eyes was open and watching me but he quickly dozed back off into sleep. Lucky him.

Making it to the kitchen without disruption, I searched for the pills; my head pounding.

“Too much wine?”

The sudden voice caught me off guard and I jumped, dropping the pill bottle on the floor.

“Damnit Matt.” I groaned rubbing my head and quickly trying to clean up the scattered pills.

When I stood back up he was leaning against the island, grinning like a fool. My eyebrows pulled together with confusion.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I questioned, throwing a couple pills in my mouth. “You gotta problem Twatson?”

Matt snickered, pushing himself away from the island to go towards the fridge.

“How could I have a problem with someone who won me $10 last night!?”

My insides clenched and I was frozen in time trying to remember what happened.

“What?” I said blankly, not able to find any memory from last night.

Again Matt snickered as he started to walk past me, leaning in towards my ear.

“You and Ryan.” He whispered. “You guys are in loOoVeEe.”

Almost spitting out my water, I watched as he walked into the living room where Jackson was just now waking up. They high-fived each other and full of confusion I rushed towards them.

“Hold it right there Matthew.” I scolded. “Jackson hold him down.”

Eyes and head still foggy with sleep, all Jackson did was take Matt’s arm in his hand.

“You’re not gonna say the shit you just did in there then leave me hanging.” I growled sitting in Matt’s lap so he couldn’t leave, “Now spill.”

If Matt’s smile got any bigger his face would explode.

“Awh come on Y/N!” Matt moaned, “You really don’t remember?!”

Again I racked my brain, but couldn’t figure out what the hell he was talking about. I stared at him with an open mouth, shaking my head a silent ‘no’. Matt sighed and shoved me off of him so that I was now planted between him and Jackson.

“Jackson help this dang dip out.” Matt ordered stomping towards the kitchen.

“What Matthew’s trying to say,” he exhaled and took his hat off. “Is that we heard you and Ryan last night.”

My stomach dropped and my cheeks burned. Jackson’s eyes widened realizing what I was thinking.

“Oh no no no Y/N.” He chuckled, “Not that!”

I relaxed into the couch, sweat dripping down my neck once again.

“We heard you and Ryan tell each other ‘I love you’!” Matt called from the other room.

My cheeks turned a deeper crimson and I felt like I might puke.

“You’re...you’re joking right?” I choked on my words.

How could I forget telling Ryan I was in love with him?

“Nope.” Matt interrupted my thoughts as he plopped down next to me again, “In fact, we’ve been waiting for it to happen. Hence how I won $10, we took bets!”

Were Ryan and I really that obvious? I mean yeah the guys knew we were close, and randomly hooking up...but we never really made it seem like we were in love? Sure I had feelings for Ryan, how could I not? But for him to feel the same seemed assanine.

“Y/N the guy has it bad for you.” Jackson chimed in as if reading my thoughts.

“No one believed me.” Matt said, “But I know my buddy Ryan. That mope’s been in love with you since he first heard your voice over the mic.”

If my eyes got any wider they’d pop out of my skull.

“‘I wonder if Y/N likes this?’” Matt said trying to imitate Ryan’s voice, “‘I wonder if Y/N has seen this movie, I bet she’d love it.’”

I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to pass out.

“He talks about you the way he talks about the Iron Giant dude, fuckin crazzzy.” Matt continued. “On and on and on.”

Not able to stand it anymore, I let my legs push me up off the couch and towards Ryan’s room; ignoring the cat calls and whistling coming from Matt and Jackson. Slowing down as I approached the door, I stuck a shaky hand out, apprehensive to open it. Slowly turning the knob, I crept back into his room. Ryan inhaled sharply, I obviously woke him up. A sleepy smile formed on his lips and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Morning weeb.” He greeted groggily, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the bed.

I watched him intently, taking everything in. He was trying his hardest to stay awake, the sun coming through the window making him squint in order to see. His nose was scrunched to hold his one eye closed, his perfect teeth glistening in the light. My stomach was fluttering...could I really be in love with him? All this time we spent together and I didn’t even notice. I always had a thing for Ryan but the part of me that wanted to avoid heartbreak blocked out any...deeper feelings. Staying quiet I made my way to the bed. Instead of going to the side where I usually slept though I went to Ryan’s. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, but they followed me...unsure of what I was doing. Climbing onto him, I straddled his hips and let my eyes meet his. Instinctively his hands gripped my hips, his eyes now beginning to wonder down my body. I playfully slapped his cheek and forced him to look back up to my eyes.

“Listen perv.” I leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

As my chest rested against his I could feel his heart pounding. I pulled away and sat back into his lap, my hands resting on his shoulders.

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed and for a second I thought maybe Matt and Jackson had been fucking with me the whole time. I know he could feel my hands getting clammy, my nerves kicking in big time. Swiftly, Ryan lifted me up and backwards off of him, my back meeting the mattress while his body now hovered over me. Tucking stray hair behind my ear, he then ran his thumb across my jawline; tracing. After a moment I propped myself up on my elbows.

“Ryan?”

He stayed silent.

“Ryan, please...” I whimpered, growing impatient.

This was the most awkwardly intimate moment Ryan and I had ever shared. The sex was always rough and fueled by alcohol and pot. I began struggling beneath him, subconsciously readying myself to run when he rejected me. Ryan snickered and squeezed my hips tighter with his knees.

“I love when you struggle Y/N.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair again. “But you know what I love more?”

My head was swirling and I was sure I died and went to heaven. I shook my head “no” and searched his face for an answer. The sly grin he once was showing slowly relaxed into a soft smile. He brushed his thumb over my lips.

“You.” He said, his voice barely audible.

Tears stung at the corners of my eyes and for a second the wave of nausea from before returned. Putting his weight on his knees, Ryan leaned down towards me..his lips ready to meet mine.

“WOOHOOHOO! OWH OWH!” Screaming, followed by loud banging on the other side of the bedroom door ripped us both from our bubble.

“Oh my god they were listening this whole time?” I groaned, covering my face with my hand. “Again?”

Lego’s barking now echoed through the house as Jackson and Matt continued to cheer. I looked back at a very confused looking Ryan, trying to ignore more embarrassment. Just looking at him brought me to an ease, setting all the feelings I had for him in stone.

“I love you Ry.” I cooed, pushing up more so I could meet his lips with mine. “But man I hate your friends.”

[honey-dewey]

Wisdom Teeth Imagines

My sibling is having their wisdom teeth out tomorrow and I felt like writing wisdom teeth imagines because I dunno I was bored? This’ll focus more on Reader getting their wisdom teeth out, but who knows. Maybe I’ll do this again. 

Total Word Count: 2,988

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

Din watched as you stumbled a bit coming up the ramp into the Crest. You’d just had surgery to remove your wisdom teeth and if Din had known you’d be this high, he probably would’ve left you with Peli until the drugs wore off.

“Din,” you whined, reaching out and stumbling over your own two feet. Din caught you, carrying you to the cockpit. He’d set up a sleeping spot there, warm and cozy so he could keep an eye on you while you recovered.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Din,” you said again, putting a hand slowly against your face. “Din!”

“Yes ner ka’ra?” Din said, crouching down so he was at your level.

“Can’t feel my face!” You said, voice overly worried. The cotton in your mouth and the numbness of your face give you a lisp, and Din couldn’t help but grin.

He smiled despite the helmet, putting a hand on the top of your head. “It’s okay, that’s normal. Lay back now, my star. That’s it, it’s time to sleep.”

You didn’t fight as you sunk into sleep, eyes flickering shut. Din took a minute to admire you, cotton stuffed cheeks and all, before he stood to sit in the pilot’s seat. He wanted to find somewhere safe where you could recover for a few days, at least.

Sorgan was a day’s trip out of the way, and Din set course for the backwater planet. He turned once the coordinates were set, looking at you.

Din sighed, sitting on the floor beside you. He’d gone through this years ago, and knew that what you’d need most was comforting company.

As you shifted in your sleep, he moved so you could use him as a pillow. While you slept, Din relaxed, his helmet off. You wouldn’t remember anything if you woke up, so what did it matter?

Your eyes cracked open and you grumbled. Din, above you, smoothed down your hair and smiled. You gasped softly. “Brown eyes,” you murmured.

Din chuckled. “Brown eyes,” he agreed. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay Brown Eyes,” you said softly, rolling over and falling asleep once more.

Marcus Moreno:

(Side note! For more Marcus wisdom teeth shenanigans, go read When I’m Older and I’m Wiser.)

“Oh babe,” Marcus said, trying not to laugh as he walked into the operating room. You stared at him, wide eyed.

“Holy shit,” you slurred, still staring. “You’re hot.”

Marcus pressed his lips together and suppressed his laughter. “Thank you,” he said. “Are you ready to go home?”

You nodded, trying to stand and immediately falling into Marcus’s arms. “Are you single?” You asked as he carried you to the car.

“No, I’m not single. I’m actually engaged,” Marcus said, and you immediately started to sniffle. “What? What’s wrong? Does your mouth hurt?”

You shook your head, nearing tears. “Why aren’t you single?” You wailed as Marcus put you in the car. “This isn’t fair!”

Marcus’s worry melted away. “Oh, honey. No, hey, I’m engaged to you!”

Your eyes went wide as your tears stopped. “What?”

“Yeah,” Marcus said, showing you the ring on your hand. “I’m engaged to you.”

“Woah,” you breathed, watching his face as he buckled you in. “Damn, I hit the jackpot.”

Marcus had to turn away and take a few breaths so he didn’t start laughing. “Okay babe. Ready to go home?”

You nodded, leaning against the door. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course you can sleep,” Marcus said, getting into the car and kissing your temple. “Close your eyes, we’ll be home before you know it.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, looking down at your hand one last time and grinning. “I’m so lucky.”

Max Phillips:

“Head still hurt?”

You groaned in response.

Max chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. He’d been looking after you since you got your wisdom teeth out, and now that you weren’t high anymore, everything hurt.

“Wanna eat something?” Max asked, looking over at you. You were face down on the couch, breathing slowly through the pain. “We have ice cream.”

You nodded, mumbling something softly. Any normal person wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but Max was no normal person.

“Okay,” he said, standing and closing his book. “Vanilla it is.”

He made you a bowl of vanilla ice cream, grabbing himself a Max popsicle while he was in the freezer. Sucking on the popsicle and letting the metallic tang coat his senses, he handed you your bowl. You made a face at his blood popsicle, but didn’t say anything as you sat up and very slowly spooned ice cream into your mouth.

You’d eaten maybe five bites by the time Max had finished his popsicle.

“Oh for the love of god,” Max said softly, scooting closer and taking the ice cream from you. You whined, but he shook his head. “Open wide.”

You did so, opening your mouth as best you could. Max put the spoon in, and you swallowed the ice cream.

“Better?” He asked, spooning up another bite. “Probably faster.”

You stuck your middle finger up and Max and took the next bite of ice cream.

“Mhm,” Max hummed playfully. “If you’d let me turn you, you wouldn’t be in pain right now.”

“Fuck you Phillips.”

Max’s grin grew. “I’ll take you up on that,” he promised. “Once you get better.”

You groaned. Later, you’d punch him for that comment, but for now, you resigned yourself to being spoon fed by the world’s most annoying vampire.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

“Okay Sparks, in the truck, there you go.” Frankie held your hands as you unsteadily got into his truck. He’d been the only one available at seven AM, so he’d driven you to your wisdom tooth appointment.

You hummed slowly, watching with unfocused eyes as Frankie got into the truck with you. “Fish?”

“What’s up Sparks?”

“I-“ you stopped abruptly as the truck growled to life. “Rumbly.”

Frankie put his phone on its holder and hit the record button on the camera. “Sparks. You okay?”

“The truck is purring!” You said, patting the dashboard. “Like a cat!”

“Like a cat,” Frankie agreed, driving out of the parking lot and across the street to the nearest fast food place. “You still want that milkshake?”

You nodded. “Cookie?”

“Oreo, if they’ve got it,” Frankie said, putting a hand on your shoulder as he pulled into the drive through line. “If they don’t, we’ll do vanilla, how’s that sound?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect,” Frankie said. “And then we have to get your pills, and then we can go home and take a long nap.”

You pouted. “Wanna nap now.”

Frankie smiled. “Go ahead. You’ve slept in this truck before.”

“Oh,” you said softly, leaning your head back and zoning out.

In a blink, almost five minutes had passed, and Frankie was pressing a cold milkshake into your hands. “Oreo, just like I promised.”

You looked down at the small cup in your hands and immediately looked up at Frankie with pure love in your eyes. “I love you.”

Frankie almost crashed the truck. “I’m sorry?”

“I love you so much,” you said again, scooting closer to Frankie and leaning your head against his shoulder. “Have for a looooong time. Napping.”

Frankie floundered as you fell asleep. He had no idea what to think. You were high as hell, but not entirely unreasonable. Was his massive crush actually reciprocated?

Deciding he’d wait until you woke, Frankie put an arm around your shoulders to steady you against his side and kissing the top of your head at a red light. “Sweet dreams.”

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

“Jack?” Ginger said, poking her head into Jack’s office. “I’ve got them here.”

“Bring them in,” Jack said, standing.

Ginger wheeled a wheelchair in, you sitting in it. Your cheeks were swollen and your head was wobbly, but Jack expected that. He helped you up, kissing your forehead and scooping you into his arms to keep you off your unsteady feet.

“I got it,” he promised Ginger. “You don’t need to hover Ginge.”

Ginger left, leaving Jack to deposit you on his lap in his office chair. “Darlin’,” he said. “I got a meeting soon. Think you can behave?”

You nodded, cuddling up to Jack and promptly falling asleep.

You were awoken by the door opening. Champ walked in, looking over you curled up in Jack’s lap. Jack simply gestured to the chair opposite his. “Cosmopolitan had their wisdom teeth out today,” he explained as Champ sat down.

The meeting was boring. Boring enough for you to zone right back out, breathing Jack’s intoxicating whiskey and leather smell. You must’ve fallen asleep again, because one minute Champ was talking about the New York branch, and the next, he was standing and leaving.

“Naps?” You asked softly once the door closed.

Jack chuckled, carrying you to his couch. “Of course,” he said, kicking off his shoes and laying you down. He grabbed a blanket and lay beside you, lightly kissing your cheeks. “Love ya.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, right before falling asleep yet again.

Ezra:

“I told you not to come,” Ezra said, reading his book while you put your face on his thighs and groaned loudly. “But no, you had to be stubborn.”

“Fuck off,” you mumbled into Ezra’s pants. “Didn’t hurt yesterday.”

Ezra rolled his eyes and flipped a page in his book. “Songbird, I love you, but you should’ve stayed home with Cee.”

“And let you come alone?” You said, rolling over so you were facing the ceiling. “I think not.”

“Then stop complaining.”

A throb of pain his your face and you winced, curling towards Ezra and whining. “Distract me?”

Ezra shut his book with a sigh. No matter how much you annoyed him, he loved you unconditionally. “Okay. How shall I distract you?”

Another worse throb, and your whines grew in volume. Your eyes screwed shut, muscles tensing. “Ezra!”

“Oh songbird,” Ezra said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Songbird I’m so sorry I can’t make the pain go away.” He pressed his ice cold hand against your cheek, hoping it would help with the pain. “Do you want medicine?”

“Took it already,” you said, leaning against Ezra’s hand.

Ezra smoothed his thumb over your cheekbone. “Ah. Apologies. There is nothing else I can do.”

You eventually fell asleep, somehow. When you woke, Ezra was in the kitchen, making a smoothie. The loud whirring of the blender woke you up and spurred you to your feet, head still aching something fierce.

“Songbird!” Ezra said upon seeing you awake. “You should be laying down.”

“Nah,” you said, sitting on the kitchen counter. “Can’t sleep. Blender’s too loud.”

Ezra sighed. “I made this for you,” he said, handing you a cup full of pink sludge.

Unable to use a straw, you grabbed a spoon and began to eat, humming around the frozen drink. “Damn Ez. This is good.”

Ezra smiled, kissing your temple. “Only the best for my songbird.”

Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey:

Dio paced the waiting room, worry making his stomach twist. He was the only one here aside from the receptionist, who’d stopped giving him odd looks after the first twenty minutes. Dentist’s offices made him incredibly anxious, and the prospect of you having a full blown surgery right at this moment made him want to puke. But he had to be here. Had to be strong for you.

“Mr. Morrissey?”

Dio’s head snapped around. “Yes?”

The surgeon looked at him. “The procedure was a success and they’re waking up. Do you want to come get them?”

“Yeah,” Dio said, following the surgeon back and trying not to freak out.

“Dio!” You said happily upon seeing your goth boyfriend. You were in a wheelchair and had a very far away gleam to your eyes. “Dio!”

Dio sighed. “Hey. Feeling okay?”

You nodded. “I feel great,” you said loosely. “You don’t look okay.”

“Let’s just go,” Dio said tightly.

“Oh right,” you said, looking up at the nurse pushing your wheelchair. “He’s scared of the dentist.” You said it in a loud whisper, like you were trying to share a secret. The nurse smiled and looked at Dio.

“The anesthesia loosens the lips,” she said. “Try to keep an eye on them until it wears off.”

Dio nodded, just eager to leave.

You were high for another three hours, most of which were napped away in the safety of Dio’s apartment. He messed around in his spare room, which had been converted into a sewing room. He kept the door cracked open so he could see and hear you.

Eventually, you sat up, rubbing your eyes and poking your nose experimentally. “Huh.”

You stood, shuffling into Dio’s sewing room. “Dio?”

Dio turned, halfway through putting a new patch on his jacket. “You’re awake.”

“I am,” you agreed, holding your arms out. Dio stood and hugged you, his project abandoned on the table. “Sorry I made you go with me. I know you hate it a lot.”

“I didn’t mind,” Dio promised. “Not for you.”

You made a face, and Dio smiled. “Okay, maybe I minded a little bit.”

“That breaks your what? Ten year streak of not entering a dentist’s office?” You asked, pulling Dio into the living room and sitting on the couch. “That isn’t healthy.”

“Eleven,” Dio said, sitting next to you and pulling you close to his side. “And I know.”

You didn’t press further. Instead, you snuggled up to Dio’s side and yawned, wincing. “Ow.”

Dio pressed a kiss against your head. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly. “I’ll put on that documentary we were watching last night.”

You nodded, closing your eyes. You were asleep before the documentary even began.

Javier Peña:

Javier had seen some shit in his day, but watching you come out of surgery and go almost directly to work was one of the most ridiculous things he’d seen in a while.

“Go home!” He said for the eighth time, watching you rub your jaw. You’d napped off the drugs, but walked into work as soon as you were sober. For the past hour, you’d been suffering through work with what had to be a raging headache.

You rolled your eyes. “Javi, I’m busy.”

Javier stood, finally at the end of his rope. He scooped you up out of your chair and you squealed indignantly, thumping your fists on his back as he carried you out to his car. Steve gave you two a look as you exited the building, but didn’t try and stop Javier as he opened his car door.

“Stay,” he said firmly once he’d put you in the backseat. “I’m taking you home and you’re getting the appropriate amount of rest.”

You pouted, but your pounding head made you sit still while Javier drove you home. He watched you carefully as you set yourself up on the couch with soft foods and your phone nearby, and then you turned your eyes on him when he didn’t leave.

“You aren’t gonna go back to work?”

Javier shook his head, sitting on the couch with you. “I don’t trust you. So no, I’m gonna stay right here until you’re better.”

Your eyebrows went up. “Javi, that’ll be days!”

“I know,” Javier promised. “I’ve had my wisdom teeth out. Now, get some rest. I’ll run out later and pick up some pain meds for that headache you haven’t told me about yet.”

Another eye roll, and you were snuggling down into the safety of your blanket cocoon. Your head did really hurt.

The gentle sounds of Javier working, his typewriter balanced on his knees, lulled you into a gentle and well deserved sleep.

Maxwell Lord:

“Hey doll,” Max said, smiling as a nurse helped you out of the office. “How’re you feeling?”

You groaned, and Max laughed. “Oh really? C’mon, let’s get you home.”

You were mostly quiet on the ride home, head cradled by the car door as you napped. Max had expected this when he’d sent you into the office an hour ago to get your wisdom teeth out, and he was definitely prepared.

“Let’s get you in the house,” Max said, helping you up once you’d gotten home. Your legs were still wobbly, so Max basically carried you in and set you in the bed. Duchess looked up and meowed indignantly, but when she realized it was just you, she sniffed you over and plopped down at your side.

“Kitty,” you said softly, petting Duchess. She purred, rolling over and butting her head into your side.

Max smiled. “I’m going to grab ice for your face. Want anything else?”

You shrugged, engrossed in your actions of petting Duchess.

“Alright,” Max said, kissing your head.

When he came back, you were asleep.

Chuckling, Max put the ice bag back in the freezer and set his book on the bedside table. Duchess left, probably because you’d stopped petting her, and Max took her place, curled up at your side.

“Daddy?”

“Alistair,” Max said, looking over. “Hey.”

Alistair looked hesitantly at you. “Are they okay?”

Max nodded. “Of course. Just napping. Wanna stay with us? I was going to put on a movie.”

“Can we watch the Jungle Book?” Alistair asked eagerly, jumping up into the bed.

Max smiled. “Of course. Stay here, I’ll go get it.”

You woke up a while later to the singing monkey, blinking slowly and rolling towards Max’s warmth. “Max.”

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Max said softly, kissing your forehead. “How was your nap?”

“Good,” you said, looking around and seeing Alistair curled up in the bed with you. “Whole family’s here.”

Max chuckled. “Duchess is even here,” he said, pointing to where Duchess was laying in her bed.

You leaned against the pillows. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Max said. “Still wanna sleep?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Wake me at dinner.”

Max pressed one more kiss to your head before you fell asleep once more.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

I love you in every language of the world, but English ( Nikki x Tommy)

A/N: All of this was born from a conversation between me and @witchy-tombstone-smile​ so a big thank you to this person to be my delirious italian partner in crime!

Summary: Nikki can speak Italian, Tommy can speak Greek but they can’t do one thing: say I love you to each other in English! ( plus Vince calling Mick a bruja)

He was a fucking idiot! What was he thinking?

He was drunk! However, that was not the problem, being drunk and alone with Tommy Lee were the issue there. Look he was Nikki Sixx, he built his reputation on being drunk or high, so he wasn’t worry about being wasted per se, neither he was worried about the dumb shit he could have done because he and Tommy were Terror Twins for a reason, not doing weird shit together would have been the issue… he’s referring to the sappy shit he does whenever his defenses are down.

Such things include randomly hugging Tommy, telling him how much of a good friend he is, yanking him off girls to do crazy shits together and his “favorite” telling Tommy sappy stuff in Italian. He has lost count of how many times he used pets name in Italian without the drummer understood it.

However, now it was much worse because they were alone and Tommy looked so fucking beautiful under the stars with his ever present smile and glossy brown eyes, he wasn’t a romantic type but the other guy changed all his prospective, he didn’t even realize he could like a guy before he knew him.

“C’mon Nikki! Tell me something in Italian, pleaseeee!” Tommy slurred, giggling.

Fuck why he was so adorable when he was an absolute walking idiot?

The bassist knew Italian because his father had Italian origins and he hoped that learning it would have meant connecting to him… yeah it was before he discovered he was an asshole.  What a fucking dumbass he was when he was younger! At least he had the opportunity to meet some amazing Italian-American folks while he was a runaway, so jokes on his dad because the chicks really dig dirty talk in another language.

Tommy loved the fact that he was bilingual, well technically so was the drummer, but he thought his Greek was quire rusty, and he constantly nudged him to say something because “you sound so cool mate! I wish I could speak my Greek that smoothly too.”

He looked the drummer into the eyes, he was always so fucking excited for everything and that only made Nikki feeling even more for him, fuck if only he had the cuts to tell him how he really felt. He wasn’t a coward simply he knew he could never be with Tommy without major consequences, however that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.

“Ti amo idiota.(I love you idiot)” The words left his mouth before he could stop them… fuck, fuck, fuck!!!

“Mh… what does that mean?” Tommy asked confused but with his silly drunk smile.

Great now he was panicking because how he was supposed to tell him that he just admitted to be in love with him?

“It means you are an idiot.” It was such a lame answer but hopefully Tommy was too naïve and drunk to care.

“Oh… then ti amo idiota, too Nikki.” Tommy giggled, but Nikki felt his stomach drop. It felt like the universe was taunting him by having his wonderful Tommy saying I love you to him without even knowing it or meaning it!

He started to feel emotional and fuck was not the alcohol supposed to help with that? It was just so fucking unfair that he was in love with the drummer but they could never be together, no holding hands or kissing or any other sappy bullshit.

Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes and he knew he had to go or otherwise he would have shown his vulnerability and he fucking hated that, he needed to drink so he stood up and quickly followed him.

“Ti amo idiota.” He repeated with a laugh and Nikki wanted to fucking die.

He needed a drink. Now!

- - -

Tommy woke up in Nikki’s room. It wasn’t unusual for the Twins to fall asleep in each other’s rooms when they were too drunk to reach their own, so usually one of them would pass out on the floor and now was Tommy’s turn.

He couldn’t help but staring the bassist who was sleeping on the bed, he was head over heels for him but he would never admit it. Sure he was all love all the time but  with Nikki it was different, he meant too much to him to potentially ruin everything by confessing his crush, so instead he was rotting into this unrequited love pain that made him jealous and angry.

Why couldn’t he be just like his parents that fell in love as soon as they met each other? No he had to suffer. They didn’t even speak the same language and they manage to get married meanwhile he knew Nikki for a while now but couldn’t have found the courage to tell him the truth. Sure he wouldn’t give up but he wasn’t sure how long he could still resist.

However, something else was on his mind too, Nikki seemed acting weird all the previous night, especially after he asked to him to say something in Italian. It’s like his eyes dimmed for a moment after he said that to him, could it be because speaking in Italian reminds him of his dad? It didn’t seem like that, there must be something else going on for sure, but what?

Tommy knew a thing or two about using another language to say stuff you don’t have the guts to say in English… It’s not like he wrote silly nicknames in Greek for Nikki whenever he had to leave a note for him about buying stuff or that he went outside. Sometimes Nikki asked what it meant and Tommy would always say an insult.

“Oh, it means you are a dumbass!”

He heard someone stirring and soon enough Nikki was staring at him with his eyes half open.

“Fuck my head hurts so bad” His raspy voice was too much for the poor Tommy who quickly decided to go grabbing some painkillers for both of them, anything to prevent having a fucking boner, but when he entered back the room he saw Nikki with his eyes closed again. He looked at his relaxed face and black hair, which did not hide his eyes like it usually would be and he could not help whispering something to him.

“σ' αγαπάω Nikki” (I love you Nikki). He learned that from his mom since she constantly told his dad how much she loved him.

However, Nikki was not asleep and Tommy’s whisper was not as quiet as he thought because he saw the black haired man turning toward him.

“What did you say?”

Panic. Tommy wasn’t usually the type that gets easily scared but right now his brain decided to shut down, leaving him unable to formulate any words. Fuck what he was supposed to say now? He wasn’t even sure if he remembered English at that moment!

“You are an idiot… it means that, ya know like you said to me yesterday.”

Nikki seemed hurt but he quickly shrugged it off and took the pills.

“Fuck you T-Bone!” He scoffed, but then he let out a laugh.

There’s no way he could have held it for much longer. He was screwed, so fucking screwed.

---

Mick was sick and tired of watching the Twins being oblivious, they were obviously in love yet they seemed to be blind. It was getting frustrating because anyone could see Tommy’s love struck expression whenever Nikki wasn’t looking or how the bassist seemed to hate anyone but Tommy.

He suspected they used their languages to say stuff the other couldn’t understand and honestly he was sick of not understanding a fuck so he started to write down what they said and search it on the dictionary. What? He was sometimes bored and this situation seemed interesting, especially if it meant that the two idiots would have been finally together and that he could use this information against them.

“What are you doing Mars?” Vince looked at the older man curious, trying to understand what he was reading.

“I’m trying to translate whatever the Twins said to each other yesterday morning.” He said nonchalantly.

“Wait you know Greek and Italian? Don’t tell me you have been learning it just so you could understand them!”

“ Well I’m sick and tired to hear them saying shit and not understanding it, now they can’t fool me and I’ll know whatever they are saying how much they love the other or plotting to make the kitchen explode! However, especially I’m so over the fact that they can’t tell each other their true feelings” Mick said firmly.

“How are you going to make them confess though?” Vince looked both scared and confused.

“Well I will tell them what the other really meant!”

“You scare me man… bruja” Vince whispered the last part.

“Hey, do not call me a fucking witch!” Mick replied threatening.

“ YOU ARE DOING THE SAME WITH ME TOO?”

“No more fucking with me in Spanish, Malibu Barbie!”

---

Mick plan was simple: smacking them with the truth and making sure they wouldn’t run away, for that he instructed Vince to block the door at any cost.

“Nikki will try to escape so you must prevent that.”

“Why me Mars? Furthermore, how am I supposed to do that?” Vince asked confused.

“Well I know that you can fight and because if you do not do that I’ll tell Nikki what you say about him in Spanish when he doesn’t hear you.” The guitarist replied with a smile.

“Oh c’mon, that’s pure evil. You are the devil!”

Right at that moment, the front door opened and Nikki stepped in, soon followed by Tommy who looked like a puppy with heart eyes only for the older man.

“What are you doing Mick?” The drummer asked curious.

“Nothing much, I was reading stuff… did you know that “Ti amo” means I love you in Italian? Does not Nikki say that a lot?” Mick shot Vince’s a glare and Nikki’s eyes got huge as he understood what was going on, but before he could get out the blond quickly went to lock the door right before he could reach it.

Nikki looked like a caged animal, terrified yet ready to fight anyone, it scared him very bad because what if Tommy got angry or decided to end their friendship? What if they kicked him out of the band or they left him like anyone else in his life? Suddenly he felt so fucking angry with Vince for blocking the door because he needed to get out and escape all this situation! He couldn’t give any explanations

 He was about to charge on Vince and knock him out of the way but Tommy’s voice cut through his train of thoughts.

“ Wait you told me that yesterday. Does this mean…” Tommy looked confused as fuck but before he could do anything Mick continued, adamant into making both boys suffer in misery.

“Also I discovered that I love you in Greek is written like this “σ' αγαπάω” He showed a piece of paper “ Which isn’t very similar to what  Tommy always writes on his notes?”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to be absolutely shocked and scared as his eyes bolted anywhere but where Nikki was. It had to be a joke, right? They were playing with his feelings because they knew he loved Nikki and all of this was a big prank… unless it wasn’t. However, that would have been too good, even for a hopeless romantic like him, he needed to know the truth.

“Nikki… “ He stopped and Mick to take as the signal that they should have left the two boys alone, so he took a very interested Vince and pulled him away.

“They are right it means I love you, I couldn’t find the courage to tell you so I said it but in a way you wouldn’t understand. I love you Nikki, so much but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship…”

Tommy never felt afraid but at that moment he knew he could have lost everything from his band to his best friend, but also he knew he had to be the first one to speak otherwise Nikki would have never done it. The bassist still looked at the ground but he took a deep breath and he started talking.

“ Fuck Tommy I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, but I was so fucking terrified you would never want to see me again if I told you my real feelings! I couldn’t lose you or the band so I just didn’t say it. You have no idea how many fucking time I just wanted to pick you and make you mine!"

His eyes were still glued down, but he forced himself to look at Tommy, noticing his big smile and how his eyes were lit up for joy. He couldn’t help but smile back because he looked absolutely gorgeous like that, little did he know that Tommy felt the same way about him, a smiling Nikki was a beautiful Nikki.

They stayed like this for a couple of seconds until Nikki felt something inside him and before his brain could stop him, he cupped Tommy’s face and kissed him on the lips. It wasn’t sweet but neither super heated, it was just a passionate kiss, one that held all the longing and promises they would make to each other. It was a kiss of hope and courage, and a kiss between two people who are not afraid anymore.

Tommy was the first to pull away but only because he wanted to hear Nikki say something.

“Can you say it again, please?”

“ Ti amo, idiota.” Nikki said with a smile. Saying I love you felt still very scary but this was different in a way, even if it was the same meaning. He was sure one day he would be able to say it in English too.

“ I love you too, idiot!” Tommy replied hugging the bassist.

“Wow how did you know that it would have worked?” Vince whispered, as he was totally not spying his friends kissing.

“Call it six sense.” Mick replied shrugging his shoulders.

“Bruja”

“I heard you, little blonde bitch.”

[mcfiddlestan]

WinterFrost Single Dads AU

Hey, ya'll. Told ya I was working on this thing. I've got about six chapters done, but I'm not ready to post it to AO3 just yet. One big reason for that is I don't have a title yet. So I thought I'd post a couple of chapters, let ya'll get a feel for it, then take any suggestions you might have.

Just a small note: I tend to name fics after song titles that inspired the story or somehow fit with the plot.

Anyhoo...here's the first chapter. I *might* post the second tomorrow. We'll see how the response to this goes.

xoxo, La

Pairing: Loki x Bucky Barnes (there are others past and future, but I'm not giving them away just yet)

Rating: M

Word count: 1,775

Summary: Loki is living a great life as a Manhattan lawyer and constantly partying with Tony Stark, his best friend. Loki's life before he came to New York more than a decade ago is a mystery for those close to him. But it's all about to come to light when he gets a call from someone in his past.

Bucky is just trying to catch a break. A few hookups with a fellow soldier led to a quickie marriage and baby -- and two years later, a quick divorce. His daughter is now eight years old and the light of his life. But he can't seem to get his shit together. Struggling to find a job and keep a hold on his sobriety, it's a one-night stand that gives him the kick in the ass he needs to be the man his daughter believes he is.

Warnings: Mature language and situations, some drug use, and talk about addiction.

Chapter 1

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly, once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then he felt the pounding, incessant, pulsing around his entire head. Damn migraines. Loki let out a low groan, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Rise and shine,” a deep voice sang.

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “Close them! I’ve got a damned migraine!”

“Ooh. So sorry, Mr. Friggasson. There’s a cup of tea on the nightstand. Would you like me to get you some water and a couple of ibuprofen?”

Another groan sounded through the room as Loki forced himself to sit up. “Yes, please,” he answered as he rubbed at his face before reaching for the two pillows to prop them up behind him. In his sleepy haze, he remembered to pull the bedsheet over his lap to keep his modesty. Loki reached out for the teacup first, cupping it in his large hand as he took a gentle sip. “Mmm, perfect. Thank you, Fandral. And, for the thousandth time, please stop calling me Mr. Friggasson.” He sipped again, ignoring Fandral’s giggle as he rummaged through Loki’s closet. “What time is it?”

“A quarter to eleven.”

Loki sputtered into his tea. “Quarter to eleven? Why did you let me sleep so late? I have meetings today.” Loki hurriedly set his drink down and started to rise, gathering the sheet to wrap around him. Fandral was suddenly there, nudging Loki back into the bed, “Relax, Loki. You’re fine. Your early meeting was canceled, the board meeting at the Tower was pushed to Thursday, and Mr. Stark canceled your lunch meeting.”

“Cancelled? Why?” Loki settled back in the bed, rubbing at his neck. “He didn’t say. But he left the message for me before three am, and there was a lot of noise in the background. So, take a guess.”

Loki snorted softly. “That’s your boss, Fanny. Don’t judge.”

“You’re my boss. Mr. Stark only signs the checks,” Fandral said through a smile as he laid out a pair of pants and a shirt on a chair in the corner for Loki to wear for the day. “Once the morning meeting was canceled, I thought I’d let you rest a little longer since you didn’t have to rush into the office.”

“Thanks,” Loki muttered from behind his cup.

Fandral gave him a nod and turned to head around the corner towards the master bathroom.

“Any other messages?” Loki called as he set the teacup back on the nightstand. He sat back, his face contorting in pain, willing the migraine to ease up. He made a mental note to see an optometrist already.

“Yes, a few. Natasha called. She got a lead on the security break from a couple of months ago, I guess? She said she’d have a report for you on the improvements she’s already made with F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Fandral stepped out with a small white bottle in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Loki before popping open the bottle and dropping two white tablets in Loki’s open palm. “Also, someone’s been trying to get a hold of you all morning. He’s called four times already. No real message, just ‘need to speak to Loki urgently.’ Someone named Thor.”

Loki went still. He swallowed down the pills and water in his mouth, watching Fandral’s retreating back. A million different questions ran through Loki’s mind, but he couldn’t decide on just one to ask, nor would Fandral be able to answer any of them, judging by what he’d just said. Fandral returned from the bathroom, and Loki hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. “Someone named Thor, you say?”

Fandral, staring at his phone, made a noise of agreement. “Sounded foreign, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“Norwegian.” Loki shook his head dismissively when Fandral looked at him with a quizzical look. “Did he say how to get a hold of him?”

“Yes. At least, I have the number for you.” Fandral lowered his phone, eyed Loki, who’d gone much paler in the last thirty seconds. “Are you all right?”

Not in the slightest. “Yes. Uh, Fandral, I’m going to take a shower.” Loki rose from the bed, his migraine still there but hardly forgotten. He held the bed sheet tight at his waist and walked around Fandral. “Listen, if he calls again, tell him I will call him back as soon as I’m free. If he doesn’t, when you hear the water stop, give me twenty minutes, then put the call through.”

Fandral frowned at Loki as he followed him with his eyes. “Sure, boss. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Fandral. I’m fine. Will you order some food? Get me a sandwich, please. Something toasted, turkey.” Distracted, Loki didn’t wait for Fandral to confirm. He walked into his bathroom and started the water in the shower, then moved to the sink. He stood before the mirror for a moment, thinking, fretting, irritated. Why would Thor be calling him after all this time? What could he possibly have to say to Loki? After more than ten years of no communication, Loki felt as if they were strangers.

The steam began to fill the room, fogging up the mirror, so Loki dropped the sheet and stepped under the spray. He let the hot water wash over him, easing the ache of his muscles. He took the showerhead in hand, adjusted the setting of the water, and held it over the back of his head to let the hot water pummel the skin of his neck and his scalp, hoping to make the migraine go away. Though with the newly added stress of a phone call with someone from his long-forgotten past, Loki wasn’t sure it would go away now.

Washing his body and hair quickly, after just fifteen minutes, Loki stepped out and went through the motions of grooming then getting dressed. When he stepped out into the living room, Fandral was just taking his food from its delivery packaging.

“Did he call?”

“No. Feel any better?”

Not at all. “Much. Fandral, could you give me some privacy?”

He froze with a wrapped sandwich half out of the bag. Only his eyes moved in Loki’s direction, “Um, sure? Do you want me to come back in, what, an hour?”

Loki shook his head. “No. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Fandral dropped the sandwich on the table and faced Loki fully, crossing his arms. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing is wrong. I just don’t know how this conversation is going to go, and I’d rather not have an audience if you don’t mind.” He spotted a bag of chips and snatched it up, ripping it open to pop one into his mouth.

Fandral, still frowning, reached into the bag once again to split the napkins between the two of them. He repacked his meal, then lifted the bag from the table. “All right. Your phone is on the counter. I input the phone number since he called the office, not your cell phone. And – I’ll be available, just in case.”

“Thank you. Fandral.” Loki gave his back a quick pat as he paused beside him. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I think we both know that’s a mutual feeling.” He reached for Loki’s arm, giving his wrist a quick squeeze. “Call me later? So I know you’re all right?”

Loki nodded and didn’t move until he heard the door close behind Fandral. It was true; he didn’t know how he would function without Fandral. They were classmates in law school, and both started at equally prestigious firms upon graduation. They were good friends but fiercely competitive, too. Loki credited that manic drive to one-up each other for getting him to the top five percent of their graduating class. But after a few years, while Loki had been on the up-and-up, Fandral was drowning, barely keeping his head above water as a tax lawyer. Loki watched one of the first friends he’d made in New York crumble under pressure and struggled to help him find a way to deal. Eventually, Fandral walked away from the six-figure salary, the company car, and all the perks that came with it. Loki was impressed that Fandral

dared to do it. After a few months of getting help and finding a better mental space, Fandral moved off of Loki’s couch into a modest apartment that was a fraction the size of the loft he was in before and looked for a less-hectic job. Loki had snagged a cushy position as Stark Industries’ in-house counsel, thanks to his friendship with its C.E.O., and was still getting settled. Managing New York’s richest son’s money, company, and public image was turning out to be a full-time job. And Loki needed help. He’d already recruited Natasha Romanov, a former N.Y.P.D. Officer, he brought her on for her computer and investigative skills. So he offered Fandral a position as his assistant. Fandral took it and promised to be the best right-hand man. Loki expected he’d be bored within a month just answering phone calls and setting up meetings. But Fandral’s duties, mostly taken on of his own volition, had grown exponentially in the past five years. He acted as assistant, maid, valet, and social buffer for the notoriously introverted Loki.

Loki would be a mess without him.

Because he was starving, Loki wolfed down half his sandwich and chips, grateful that the shower, the food, and the medication had helped relieve the worst of his migraine. Taking a deep breath, Loki picked up his phone from where Fandral left it for him. His thumb hovered over the screen, over the unknown phone number. And with his heart in his throat, Loki tapped it. He listened. He waited. And, finally, after three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Thor.”