#she also quickly left behind the idea of being a small town nobody and accepted she was destined for more

[lantsovsupremacist]

I was wondering if you could do a Nikolai fic w a Tidemaker reader who works for him on the Volkvony ?

whenever i read nikolai stuff, i imagine his girl to be a tide maker. so, of course it’s my honor to make this happen 🙏🙏 also i got carried away and there will most certainly be a part 2 🤪🤪

mijn dochter: my daughter (i went with dutch because that’s what kerch is supposedly influenced by)!

nikolai lantsov: mirror ball

it all began out of desperation, as most things in your life often did.

born into a family of ten living on the farmlands of kerch, there were always too many mouths to feed. despite the nature of your family’s occupation, whatever could be harvested or slain for food often ended up sent to the markets to try and keep up with the land payments. it was this necessity to help your family (an expectation of yourself as the middle child as much as your younger siblings) that kept you from attending school the day testing occurred. considered the bottom of the lowest class, nobody deemed you important enough to reschedule a test or even find you a spot for the next year’s round.

you believed the position of the testers. it was not because you felt particularly unimportant, just that there was no history of grisha in your family or few you had ever come into contact with. in fact, watching the older kids get tested was your only example of grisha power. a lack of suitable education did not help your case. so, you disregarded the event or lack thereof quickly after it passed.

however, when you pulled the tide in to help the withering crops survive one summer—out of sheer desperation—you could no longer ignore the possibility. the land only needed to close in to the sound by a few feet in order for the water to saturate the fields properly. it could have been a trick of a weary mind. you might not have even realized what had happened if not for your father’s startled gasp.

he muttered a single word, grisha. anything else was unintelligible under his breath—likely a slew of curses. he had even less of an education than you and your siblings. for months, you pleaded for your parents to pretend as if nothing had changed. your oldest brother knew the word for it: tidemaker. one of his best friend’s at school, their older sister had been one. but, she had been taken away. you could not imagine leaving your fields and the sun that hung above them.

you did not want to be a danger to your family, what with the way in which discovered grisha were treated in kerch’s cities. you could only hide for so long. in addition to this worry, you believed by using this resource, you could find better pay to send home. it was not the second army you desired to join but perhaps, some freelance work.

the volkvony was much larger than the scattered fishing boats dotting the coast. even those you saw rarely, the docks being miles outside your town. the pirateer’s vessel and those occupying it radiated power. the reminder of your own ability did little to ease your anxiety.

you mother’s final parting words rang in your head, and you held onto the echo for as long as you could.

“you are a fierce force to be reckoned with, mijn dochter.”

right now with your knees knocking and shoulders shaking, you hardly felt it. your mother often remarked you showed courage in different ways. you might have paled at standing up to the bully that had broken your sister’s arm as a child and allowed your eldest brother to physically retaliate, but your calm nature quieted her cries as you held her gently, waiting for help. you knew that even when he did not verbally express it, your father still appreciated how you took it upon yourself to care for the little ones, handle the crises at home. you made life work for everybody.

your littlest brother, espen, would think you were strong despite the obvious nerves riddling your form. before you left, he hugged you goodbye with all of the strength his two-year-old body could muster, imbuing you with it. his childlike magic satiated any apprehension that came your way on the voyage to the boat’s docking in ketterdam—a city’s whose reputation limited your visits to three occasions in eighteen years. and when it faded, because it always did, you held tight to baby noa’s fairly like giggles, each one of her accompanied smiles locked carefully away in your heart.

even with living a life largely locked on land, the water brought a unique sense of calm to your restless spirit. to any onlooker, your closed eyes and deep breaths by the banks could be attributed to the anticipation of adventure. however, anyone who truly knew your heart would understand the greater impact of the tides. they might even notice the slight curl of your lip or scrunch of your nose, the actions of concentration supporting the delicate ripples of waves on the edge of the sound.

a voice from behind you nearly caused you to jump right off of the dock. one might think that growing up in a household of ten, you would be painfully aware of your surroundings. that could not be father from the case. you did not intend to walk through life stuck in your own head, but it was a habit.

“we’re boarding now,” the same person spoke again, “you’re our new tidemaker, right?”

“that’s right,” you annunciated softly with a nod of your head.

now having stepped forward, you identified the figure to be a girl a few years your elder. with short cropped hair and a glint in her eyes, she intimidated you. however, her tone was kind and seemed welcoming.

“i’m tamar and that,” she extended a hand to point, “is my brother toyla. heartrenders.”

you nodded again, rolling your lips into your mouth. following behind her, you strung your bag over your shoulder and avoided the more worn planks on the dock. the wood was speckled with age.

“how long have you been in the harbor?” you questioned, genuine curiosity in your words.

“only a few days,” she replied without turning her head, opting to keep her gaze ahead as she weaved through the crowd, “ketterdam intrigues sturmhond, but he never keeps us here for too long.”

recognizing the captain’s name who had graciously offered you a position onboard the volkvolny only two days prior, you continued after tamar. you remembered his crooked jaw and nose that had obviously been broken before. however, the ease of his smile and light in his eyes gave you the push to accept. he had approached you in the spot which you had stood only this morning and caught you in a similar position. he had been uniquely attentive.

the way he revealed that he had caught onto your ability with the ripples in the shallow water still caught you by surprise and perhaps, amusement. he had asked you to help him skip a rock. you smiled at the memory now, a small but authentic one only for yourself.

“are all of the hands grisha?” you asked another question, careful to lower your voice.

home to various brothels, pleasure houses, and gambling dens, as well as gangs, ketterdam could trap grisha in servitude if they were not vigilant. this and the general boisterous nature of the city were largely your reasons for avoiding it. you preferred the tranquility and predictability of the countryside, where all that stood out among the plains were the occasional rolling hill and far away slopes of mountain.

your older brother coen studied in the most acceptable part of the city on a scholarship, the only one of your siblings (including yourself) that showed enough intellectual promise to merit pursuing an education over farm work. the only other member of your family to dare encounter the barrel was lotte. given she was now estranged and likely involved in gang work, her possible presence did little to soothe you.

“oh, no,” tamar answered, “in fact, most aren’t. we try and keep it quiet.”

humming in response, you used the handrail to board the ship. you took a deep breath to quell any remaining anxiety. once your feet touched the hull, there would be no room for fear or at least, any expression of it. you were used to keeping to yourself, your head down and hands working.

the salt air filled your lungs easily, and you were greedy for more. it left a pleasant enough taste in your mouth. you realized you were content here and wondered if you might even find happiness on the ship.

after showing you to the quarters you would share with two other girls, you straightened your cot and placed your bag underneath it. you made quick work of braiding your hair back, pacing the room as you did so. there was work to be done, and you would be sure to see to it.

grounding yourself to steady the spinning of the room, you faced your things one more time and headed out to the deck above. for once, you were surrounded by people like you. while this did not quite give you confidence, there was a semblance of reassurance flickering in your heart.

you no longer needed to be perfect for everyone else. though your family was still largely your responsibility as they would receive a portion of your wages, you no longer had to pace your interactions with each member. if you wanted to, you could be as loud and lively as the rest of the crew surely was. scrunching your nose at the thought, you stepped by an empty crate and up the stairs. you liked being quiet. it gave you the headspace to observe others.

a long life of making the lives of your younger siblings and parents easier gave you little time to think for yourself or about yourself. maybe this adventure was all a farce to finally please yourself, to learn to believe in yourself, but you had forced it to be about the others. always placing the focus away. that was an easier story to believe rather than accepting that maybe, you were doing something for yourself and maybe, that was okay.

perhaps it should have made you nervous, but you were a shy version of excited at the idea of testing out each variant of yourself to see which one you believed in most. you had shown everyone else what they wanted or needed to see for many years. you needed to live for yourself now.

you had a right to the sea and you were determined to take advantage of it.

[daddyissuesingreen]

Dominance (Derek Morgan x GN! Reader)

Gif creds: @idiosyncratique​

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your friend goes missing and you end up in the presence of Derek Morgan

Warnings: 18+,SMUT, NSFW, Edging, swear words, masturbation (male and female), kidnapping

Word Count: 2,306

A/N: Here’s an original concept for Derek Morgan, it is very smutty, so read at your own risk. i tried to make the smut as general neutral as possible, i did make a few errors by including female pronouns, I tried editing them out, so if i missed any just let me know and I will fix it!

Y/F/N= Your friend’s name Y/L/N= Your last name

You live in the city of St. Louis, one of the unsafest cities in America. 

Here in St. Louis there are a ton of robberies, shootings, and death, it seems as if nobody is safe at times, but you never thought it would end up being you or somebody that you cared about who would be somebody’s next target.

Y/F/N was supposed to come to your apartment last night, but they never showed, instantly you grew worried so you called 911.

“Hi, I would like to report a missing person, they are…” You started to speak, but were instantly interrupted.

“Let me transfer you over to Agent Morgan.” The dispatcher said.

Agent Morgan, the FBI is in town?

“Supervisory Special Agent Morgan.” A man spoke over the phone.

“My friend, Y/F/N, was supposed to come over last night, but they never showed up, I think they are missing.” You spoke, your voice cracking.

“Alright, I am going to need you to come into the station so we can ask you some questions, is that alright?”

“Yeah, I can be there in an hour.” You spoke quickly before you hung up the phone.

You quickly put your shoes on and were out the door, driving to the St. Louis Police Department, a place you hoped you would never have to be.

You walked into the building and were greeted by a blonde woman, “I am looking for Agent Morgan.” You say looking around the room.

“You must be here about your friend, I’m Agent Jareau, I will take you to Agent Morgan. Can I get your name?” The lady asked you while she placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the interview rooms.

“ I am Y/N /Y/L/N.” You spoke softly as you entered the room and sat down.

“Alright, I will send Agent Morgan in a few minutes, is there anything I can get you?” She asked while she headed to the door.

“Uhm, no, I am good. Thank you, though.” You smiled smally and she walked out of the room.

After what felt an eternity later, Agent Morgan walked in and sat in front of you, “So, tell me about your friend.” 

“Uhm. They are the quiet type, they don’t go out of their way to talk to someone they don’t know unless they have to, they only talk to a few people, they stay home a lot, they aren’t in a relationship. They would never just run off either.” You spoke quickly, trying to make sure you gave him all of the important information and then told the agent what your friend looks like.

“Thank you so much, this helps a lot. What about you? Tell me about yourself.” He looked at you and then in a folder.

“What? Why? How is that important to the investigation? You are looking for my friend, not me.” You looked at him and then the folder.

“Our technical analyst did some digging and you fit our profile. You are in your early 20s, live a secluded life, not a lot of friends, you were average in school, you didn’t party a lot, and we had a piece that wasn’t fitting, and every time we tried to think of something it wouldn’t make sense, that piece? We think our unsub is female. You.” He spoke calmly, but when he said, “you,” he pointed his finger.

Your jaw dropped open, “first, Agent, don’t point at me. That is incredibly rude. And if I kidnapped my friend, why would I be here? I have watched all of those stupid cop shows, I know that would be inserting myself into the investigation and that is what you guys look for.”

The man smiled, “Not this time. And your knowledge of how this all works makes you look even guiltier, so why don’t you just tell me what you did to your friend and the others that were abducted and I will see about cutting you a deal.”

“I don’t need a deal because I didn’t do it.” You crossed your arms and leant back in your chair.

“Okay then.” He smiled again and walked out.

If that man didn’t seem like such a douche, you might have thought his smile was pretty.

You watched the mirror, wondering what man was doing on the other side of it.

“They are refusing a deal? That is when they will break and panic about what prison they will be sent to if they don’t accept.” Reid spoke to Morgan and Rossi.

“Either they are really confident they won’t get caught or they are innocent. Maybe we should explore some other possibilities.” Rossi said to Morgan.

“No need.” Hotchner said as he walked into the space where the other agents were.

“Their friend was just spotted on the outskirts of the city, they said a man took them from their driveway when she was getting ready to leave.” He looked through the window at you.

“So, are we searching for the man?” Morgan asked Hotch.

“No need. They used a log she found while running and when he thought he caught up to them, she hit him in his head and knocked him out and when the officers went to go look for him he was still there. They are bringing them in now.” Hotch said and walked out of the space.

“I guess I better go let them know.” Morgan said and walked into the room you were in. 

“Your friend was found and they will be okay, they are in the hospital.” Morgan spoke.

“Did they get the guy?” You asked and stood up.

“Yeah, they are bringing him in now.” He said and opened the door for you to leave.

You look at the man, profiling him like he did to you not long ago, “You need to stop being so confident that you’re right when you aren’t, I know it might be an interrogation tactic but it makes you look stupid, you also have to stop puffing your chest out to prove your dominance, because if we weren’t in a police station, I would dominate you. I’m not a little thing you can just boss around, that is where you were mistaken and that is why the piece fit. You assumed that I could convince people to come with me because I am not intimidating. I think you need to re attend your profiling class.” You said calmly and kept eye contact the whole time, further proving your dominance, what broke your eye contact was an older man laughing.

You turned and faced an older Italian man, “Keep laughing and you’re next.” You smirked and walked away from the agents.

After your experience with the agents you went and checked on your friend at the hospital.

They had obvious injuries and were going to need to see someone for a while after all of this, but other than that they seemed to be okay.

Your phone rang, it was an unknown number, you stepped outside of their room and answered it, “hello?” you asked.

“Hi, this is Derek Morgan I just want-” The agent spoke, but you rolled your eyes and hung up.

“Men.” You scoffed and walked back into your friends room.

“I am going to head home for the night, I have to feed my dog, but I will be back in the morning.” You smiled and gave them a small hug before walking out of the room and going home.

On your way home you notice a car following, “this day just keeps getting worse and worse.” You muttered before pulling into your driveway, pepper spray in hand, you got out of your car and walked to your door as the car pulled in behind your car.

A man emerged from your car and you immediately recognized him, “So the FBI makes house calls to annoy people they accused of being a murderer?” you laughed and put the pepper spray in your purse and opened your door.

The man also laughed, “No, I just wanted to apologize and say you were right about what you said earlier.” he scratched the back of his head.

“Hm. Which part?” You smirked.

“I was hoping all of it...if you’re up to it.” He also smirked and walked up to you at your door.

“This isn’t very professional, Agent,” you placed a hand on his chest, “do you do this after every case.”

“Not usually, but there’s just something about you that makes me want to.” He placed his hand on top of yours.

“And that is?”

“Dominance.” He said and kissed you while pushing you inside the door, kicking it shut.

“Oh. I see,” you pull away from the kiss, “my bedroom is down the hall, first room on the left, be naked when I get in there.”

The man just nodded, any alpha male dominance he tried to act like he had was instantly gone.

After a few short moments you walked into the room, stripping as you walked, and saw the man laying on your bed, already hard, waiting for you.

You smirked at the sight and walked to him slowly.

Once you got to the man, you sat on the bed beside him, looking at his cock and then his face. You grabbed his cock in your hand, spat on it and began to pump it. Derek became a moaning mess within seconds.

“Damn, baby.” He flexed his abs.

“Hm?” You hummed looking at him. 

Humming. It gave you an idea. 

You removed your hand from his length and bent over his cock and kissed the tip.

He looked at you wide eyed, but then nodded for you to do it.

You first licked all around the tip and massaged his balls.

You then began to suck just the tip, teasing the man who was very rude to you earlier, this is the perfect time to exact your revenge.

“More.” Derek moaned.

“I’ll do as I please.” You smirked and then licked his shaft, keeping your hand on his balls.

You then began to bob your head up and down on his cock, pumping whatever you cannot fit into your mouth.

You increase your speed when you can tell he is close to cumming.

“I’m gonna cu-” You cut him off by removing your mouth from his cock, causing him to lose the feeling of pleasure just before he came.

“What was that for?!” He chuckled and went to put his hand on his cock, but you smack it away.

“You don’t get to cum until I let you, and I don’t want to yet.” You smirked and then placed your hand back on his cock and started to pump it again.

The agent was once again a moaning mess, you watched him as he closed his eyes and began to breathe heavily.

You removed your hand and he looked at you, “Again?” he asked.

“I want you to get yourself off.” You smirked, grabbing his hand and placing it on his cock.

You watched as he began to jerk himself off. You felt yourself getting more and more turned on by the sight. 

While you watched the man you could tell he was close again, this time you let him cum.

He let out a loud moan as he released.

You crawled over him backwards and began to ride him. 

He went to grab your hips, but you smacked them away. “No touching.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, once again, but he obeyed you.

You bounced up and down on his cock, moaning like there was no tomorrow.

The agent just watched as you bounced, he thrusted up into roughly, earning a moan from the both at you.

While thrusting, Derek reaches your spot easily, something you were not receiving while it was just you bouncing.

“Fuck, Derek.” You moaned loudly.

“You’re so good at this.” 

You grabbed his throat, squeezing light, earning a smirk from him, “Shut up, Derek.” You continued to bounce with your hand on his neck.

You felt him twitch while in you, you pulled off of him and laid next to him.

“Watch me.” you reached and began to play with yourself.

You played with it vigorously and moaned loudly.

Derek watched as you got yourself and grabbed his cock, but you told him not to and to just watch.

You let out a loud moan and came while Derek just watched.

“I want you to give me some head.” You said in a chilled toan and Derek just nodded.

Derek put his head in between your legs and licked your sex, you put your hand on the back of his head, pushing him closer. 

The feeling of his tongue all of your sex was overwhelming and you quickly came again.

He pulled away and kissed you roughly before pulling abruptly.

Derek flipped you over and quickly pushed himself into you, thrusting quickly.

He slapped your ass and you moaned.

“Do I feel good?” You breathed.

“So good, I might just have to subscribe.” He moaned.

You both hear a ringing come from Derek’s pants.

Derek groaned and pulled out, “that must be my boss. I gotta go. Sorry, sexy.”

Derek got off the bed, as well as you, and you both got dressed.

“You know where I live if you ever want to do this again.” You chuckled as you walked him out.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He kissed your cheek as he opened the door.

“Travel safe.” You smiled out and he left your apartment.

What a night that was, part of you hoped you would hear from him again, but were also happy if it was just a one night stand with the man made of Chocolate Thunder.

[zafirosreverie]

Hi, I was wondering if possible you could do an agatha/agnes x reader where the reader is transmasc and is having a bout of dysphoria? and agnes reaffirms their gender and soothes them? i've read all of your agnes fics and they're great, i'm sure you've received many requests so i understand if you can't do this one.

Sure thing dear! Actually, this was my only request, so thank you! ^ - ^

I'm not transmasc nor have anyone close to me that is it, but i did my homework and made a little research about this. I got the basics but I'm far from fully understanding it, so if i got anything wrong, or something offends you, please let me know so i can fix it!

I hope you enjoy it and remember that you're all beautiful, that you matter, that you're amazing and i love you! ❤

My little star (Agatha x Transmasc!Reader)

You slid through the wall until you sat on the floor and hugged your knees close to your chest. Tears were already forming on your eyes, making them burn. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to feel like this, but you couldn’t help it. It was just too much for you and you felt so tired.

Being you has never been easy. Everyone has to grow up with other people's expectations, you were sure. But it was different in your case, because you were forced to grow up as something you never were, not really. 

When you were born, someone declared you a female based on your genitals, and your family always treated you as one. They would make you wear dresses, play with dolls, they wanted you to be sweet and charming. Even your aunt taught you how to do your make up. 

“To be beautiful for the boys” she said.

But that wasn’t you. 

You enjoyed some things, of course, like the make up (as long as you keep it subtle and not too often) or even some clothes, but that was it. You just weren’t what they wanted you to be. You tried to talk with them, and even if some members of the family accepted you, the rest just didn’t, and it hurted so much when they would call you with femenine pronouns. You were sure they did it on purpose, trying to make you “regain sense”.

You didn’t want to go to school, because of the pressure of having to wear what “girls had to wear”. You stopped eating healthy and even had trouble sleeping. They thought you were throwing a tantrum. When you were old enough, you left your house. It was just too much and you had to leave that life behind. It wasn’t yours after all, it was a life made for a little girl. Not for you.

You really couldn’t remember how you ended up in Westview, but it wasn’t important. You felt safe there and everything was fine. Except that it was a lie too. 

Sometimes, you would feel someone’s eyes in your back, or would hear someone whispering (not so subtle) about your hair, your clothes, etc. It was the same thing you were running away from, but it seemed like it followed you. But, you couldn’t leave. Not this time.

“Y/N? dear, are you there?” Agatha’s voice came from the other side of the door and you sighed.

She was the only thing keeping you here. Agatha was your everything. She was the first  person you met when you arrived at the town. At that time, you believed her name was Agnes. She complimented you, saying how beautiful of a woman you were. It hurted you, yes, but it was your fault. You were the one who decided to wear makeup that day, after all.

You did want to make a good impression, so you just let it pass, and shyly agreed to have dinner with her that night, not that you really had a choice. Agnes made clear that she would come to your house that night if you didn’t go to hers. You would have been offended, but she was cute, so, the hell with it. 

And that was the start of your relationship. Dinner turned into a morning walk, that turned into lunch, that turned into tea and gossip in your house, that turned into movies night. And then it suddenly became your Friday routine. Accidental brushes turned into hand holding. Then came the first date, the first kiss and you two walked slowly to the point of no return.

After the third date, you decided it was enough and couldn’t pretend anymore. So, when she was holding you on the couch, you cleared your throat and made her pause the movie to look at you. 

It was a hard talk for you, because you didn’t want to lose her, but you also wanted her to know you. The real you. 

It was a surprise when Agnes frowned before she took your face in her hands and stared at you. She scolded you for not telling her before and quickly apologized for having called you the wrong pronouns all this time. You blinked, not expecting that reaction. It was a relief, not having to pretend with her like you did with your family.

But you weren’t the only one having to pretend. After your reveal, she took you to her house and showed you her basement.  

“A secret for a secret, hon” she had said before she told you her real name was Agatha Harkness and that she was a witch. At first, you were confused, then you were angry that she was joking like this just after you got the courage to tell her about you, then you just wanted to laugh, and finally, when she showed you her beautiful purple magic, you blinked. You felt fear, but it was just for a second. Then, you remembered all the words she said to you, how she wanted to be there for you, by your side. And you knew, you wanted that too. You wanted to be with her, no matter what.

Agatha became more protective of you after that. She would do anything to make sure you felt comfortable, she never questioned you for your likings and would always encourage you to be yourself. She was always by your side and you were so happy for that. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel insecure.

“Y/N” she knocked again, interrupting your thoughts “Love, please open up” she begged you and the amount of love and concern you heard in her voice was enough to finally let the tears run through your face. 

Agatha frowned when she heard you crying and decided it was enough. Using her magic, she opened the door and quickly kneeled in front of you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, pulling you into her arms. 

You hid your face in her chest and tried to explain it, but it came out in parts. Just a few words. So she asked for your permission to look at your mind. It took you some minutes but you finally nodded and she did it.

She saw it all like you lived it. She felt the same eyes on her back as you did, heard the same whispers, saw the same judging look you got. Some were eyes from people of Westview, but others were from people outside, your family, ex friends, etc. She felt the same anxiety you had, the need to run, to scream. To be free. 

She saw the world like you did, and it broke her heart. Because you were watching the world with broken eyes. 

Agatha felt her own tears coming to her eyes, as she saw you looking at yourself through the mirror, you had half of your face with make up, but you doubted doing the other side. She saw how you wanted to pick flowers, but kept walking when people looked at you. 

She felt your insecurity. 

“I don’t know who i am anymore” you whispered when she came back to reality. Agatha kissed your temple and gently rocked you, her holding tightening around you. 

“You’re Y/N” she said “my little star”

“But i don’t know what i am” you cried “I always fought against the idea of being a woman, but i keep doing things that women do”

“No” she said “you do things that people do”

“This is not how transmasc people are supposed to be” 

“Y/N, there’s not right way to be transmasc” she whispered, running her finger through your hair “or anything else, for the record. People don’t have to look or act a certain way for their gender to be valid. You want to wear makeup sometimes? Then we’ll do each other’s make up! You want to pick flowers? Then you go to that garden and bring back a bouquet for our kitchen table. You can do anything you want because just you are you. Love, nobody can tell you how to be you.”

You cried harder on her chest, not understanding how someone that was supposedly evil could love this much. Agatha pressed another kiss on your temple before she grabbed you by the chin, making your e/c eyes meet her blue ones. 

“I love you, Y/N. Y-O-U.It’s up to you to decide what you’re comfortable with, but whatever you decide it is, i’ll be by your side” 

A small smile appeared on your face and you silently swore you would give this woman the world. You would fight Wanda, her magic and everything else for her. She wiped your tears before she lovingly kissed you, making you feel like, no matter what, you  were her little star, and you will be safe.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//i wish it wasn't so damn hard to leave

Request: Hi! Big fan of your work! Would you be able to write a Serpent fic based off of the Senorita video? I’m obsessed with it

hey! I hope you like this!!! and i’m sorry its so late. but hey, its hopefully a nice surprise! have a great day!!

The hot summer air hits you as soon as you walk through the out the front doors of Pop’s. You sigh and rearrange the bag on your shoulder, silently dreading the long walk home. 

You moved to Riverdale three weeks ago, and they’ve been the weirdest three weeks of your life. They’ve also been the hardest three weeks of you life. Moving to a small town is like trying to infiltrate Area 51, and not in the fun way. 

Everybody knows each other, everybody talks and everybody gossips. Plus to make matters worse, you’re still not entirely sure where everything is. 

Street names change, certain houses end up being some place other than you thought they were, and old buildings make weird noises in the night...old buildings that you have to walk past after your shift. Based on the stories you’ve heard though, you wouldn’t be surprised if they did. 

A few good things have come out of moving here though. You’re finally able to live alone, the rent here is surprisingly cheap (being the murder town and all), although the more you think of it the more you think it might not be a good idea to live by yourself. You’ve made a ton of new friends, one of which gave you a job in her diner (go veronica!). And lastly and most recently, you met him. 

Sweet Pea

Even the thought of him makes you smile. 

You’d met him last night at Veronica’s club (it’s crazy how many business’ under 20 year olds can own here) last night. She had invited you to come out and celebrate making it to three weeks, and you’d very happily accepted, needing an excuse to get dressed up and get out. It felt like you’d done nothing but live in either your waitressing uniform or your pajama’s for three weeks straight and so it was nice to feel normal. 

Once you’d got there, Veronica introduced you to a few people you had yet to meet, before you all started drinking. Betty had gone to the bar to get drinks for everyone, when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You’d turned around, expecting her to be stood with a tray full of drinks balanced in her hands, but instead you were met with a chest, taking you very much by surprise. 

Your eyes travelled upwards, fighting against the darkness of the club until you met his gaze. He was already look at you, his lips parted and eyes hooded and a small gasp left your lips. 

All night, the two of you had been stealing small glances at each other. He was sat with who you assumed were his friends, a couple of them playing guitar despite the loud music playing through the speakers while the rest talked. 

As soon as you saw him you felt your pulse quicken and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

And so when he was stood in front of you, you felt all of those things and more. A small shiver ran up your spine as he held his hand out towards you. No words were exchanged, he just stood and waited. You quickly glanced at your friends, all of which were smiling knowingly at you, before you carefully placed your hand in his. 

He pulled you into him, your back against his chest and the motion made you breathless. Your faces inches apart, the faintest hint of alcohol on his breath that made you feel dizzy. You swayed together, completely caught up in the moment before he twirled you back out. The bass from the song playing and the heavy beating of your heart swirled together until you could feel both of them pounding in your chest. 

Pulling you back towards him, your hands lay flat against his chest while he held you close, the two of you getting lost in your own world. The rest of the club fell away behind you, it was just you and him and the slow beat of the music. 

But then you started to panic.

Not because of who he was. 

You knew he was a serpent, heard the stories from your friends about the war between the Northside and Southside. But maybe it should have been. The leather jacket with the gang sign proudly stitched onto the back, the fading bruise framing his eye and the spilt lip should have all been warning signs. 

But the thing that made you panic was yourself. You don’t even know why you felt it.

You’d been waiting all night for him to talk to you, but now that it what happening you felt the anxiety rise in your chest, and before you knew it you were running out of the front doors of Pop’s and into the warm summer night. 

You’d been quietly hating yourself ever since that night. 

You didn’t even know his name until Veronica had teased you about the interaction the next day at work. However when she saw how upset you were about it, she’d told you not to worry and that she was sure he’d come back and you’d get another chance. 

You didn’t believe her, not at all. Nobody in their right mind would come back for a girl who ran away from them. 

But the universe is full of surprises. 

And so is he apparently. 

“Are you stalking me?” You stop in the middle of the parking lot, your eyebrows raised as you wait for a response. 

Your question hangs in the air for a few seconds, and you worry that you were just seeing things. That the person you thought you saw stood outside was just in your imagination, that you were just seeing what you wanted to. 

But then you hear the crunch of gravel followed by quick footsteps and you thank the universe for the second chance. 

“Wha-no. Why would you think that?” He stutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. You turn around to face him and a shy smile takes over your features as you make eye contact with him.  

“Because you’re loitering outside the place I work.” You shrug. “And Veronica told me that she say you hanging around inside for a few hours.” 

“Okay, that I am doing. But I’m not stalking you.” He says, a bashful smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“So what are you doing then?” 

“I just wanted to know why you ran away yesterday.” He replies and your face falls. You gaze drops to the dusty ground beneath you and you kick a few stones around to try and distract yourself. “Sorry.” He mumbles. “I was just worried if it was something I did.” 

“What, no.” You reply and look at him quickly. 

He looks sad and a frown takes over your face at the sight. 

“Are you sure. Because I’m sorry if I did do something. The last thing I wanted you to do was run away.” 

“I didn’t run.” You mumble and he raises an eyebrow at you. “It was more of a quick walk.” 

“Okay.” He chuckles. “Why did you quickly walk away from me then?” 

“I needed to pee.” You shrug, not even trying to make your lie believable.

“You pee outside?” 

“...yes.” You say, deciding to stick by what you said. 

“Okayyy.” He replies, not really sure of what to say and you mentally curse yourself. “You’re cute you know, even if you do go to the bathroom in weird places.” 

“Thanks.” You giggle, and brush a piece of hair out of your face. 

“Would you like to go for a ride?” 

“Excuse me?” You blink and his eyes widen. 

“Not like that, I meant, I-er. I have a bike.” He says, pointing to the black bike parked right in the corner of the parking lot. “Would you like to go for a ride.” 

“Should I really be going off with a stranger thats been stalking me?” You ask. 

“I wasn’t stalking you.” He rolls his eyes. “Plus, everybody knows it’s almost impossible to kidnap someone with a motorbike. There’s no boot and it’s very easy to jump off a moving bike. I wouldn’t recommend it though.” He rambles making you laugh. 

He looks away embarrassed once he’s finished talking, but it makes your chest feel fuzzy and warm and you desperately want him to continue talking, even if it is about kidnapping. 

“Okay.” You agree and he looks at you surprised. “Where are we going?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, the two of you falling into step with each other as you make the short walk to his bike. “Where do you want to do?” 

“I honestly don’t know. Where are the best places in Riverdale?” 

“Greendale.” He replies making you snort. 

The sound makes your cheeks heat up and you quickly look away, but you feel him smiling at you making you relax a little. 

“You’re new here right?” He asks and you nod. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the town. Hopefully I can make it seem exciting.”

“I’m sure you will.” You reply and put the helmet he’s given you on. He reaches over and helps you fasten it, tapping your head a few times once he’s finished and the two of you look away awkwardly. 

“...sorry.” He mumbles. “Can we forget I did that?” 

“Of course.” 

“Can we forget that I ran away?” 

“I thought you quickly walked.” He replies making you huff. 

“Shut up.” You mumble. “Can we?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Now get on. The sun’s gonna come up soon if you keep standing there.” 

What started as bike ride around the town, ended in the two of you getting a hotel room together and not leaving until early afternoon. 

You lean against the wardrobe doors, memories of the previous nights and the moments leading up to it flicker in your mind. 

The wind in your hair as you drove around the sleepy streets, the feeling of your arms around his chest when he sped up. Dancing in small bit of sand by Sweetwater River and promising yourself never to run away from him ever again. To be honest, you don’t even think you could. 

He’s staring at you through hooded eyes, his lips swollen and red and you feel your knees buckle. Slowly you make your towards him and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him. He flips you around as you fall, your back landing on the soft bedding and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you and kissing him deeply. 

You can feel yourself falling for him with each kiss. The feeling of his hands running through your hair, how his fingers graze your skin lightly and the softness of his kisses. 

You’re hooked and there’s no turning back. 

You didn’t even know Riverdale had motels. But they do, and they’re the definition of Riverdale. They look inviting from the outside but once you step through the doors, they’re dim and dingy. The only plus point are the people inside, and you’re very happy to be locked in with Sweet Pea. 

You spend practically the whole day tangled up in bed sheets, and before you know it, it’s time for your late shift at Pop’s. 

So with a heavy heart and a promise of spending another night together, you part ways.  

“Thanks for dropping me off.” You smile and smooth your hair down. 

You didn’t have time to go back home to change, and so suddenly you feel self conscious, your uniform has the same grease stain on it from your last shift and you know for a fact Veronica is going to notice and not let it go. 

“No worries.” He laughs. “You look great.” He catches your hands, stopping you from messing with your hair again and presses light kisses to them. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” You roll your eyes, letting him tug you forward. “Will you be stalking me again?” You wonder, a soft smile tugging at your lips and he rolls his eyes at you playfully. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that makes your heart race. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I really hope you do.” He whispers, his lips grazing your ear and a shiver travels down your spine. 

----

“Maybe, my ass!” You huff, throwing your hands up in frustration. 

It’s been a week since you saw him, and he’s definitely been avoiding you. 

“It’s only been a week.” Veronica asks. 

The two of you are on the late shift tonight, along with a few other servers and Veronica made sure your break was together so you could hang out, although now, you’re pretty sure she’s regretting that because it’s been ten minutes and the only thing you’ve talked about is him. 

“But nobodies seen him. Not you, not his friends, not anybody. And the other day I heard Toni and Fangs talking about his skipping town. They were trying to figure out why he’d done it.” 

“Oh.” 

“You know, there’s a reason we didn’t go back to his place. It’s so I didn’t find out his address so I couldn’t hunt him down. That bastard.” You curse, and flop back in the seat. 

“You never know.” She says, placing a comforting hand on your leg. “He might surprise you.” 

“I very much doubt it.” You sigh. “Why are all men the same. They get they want and then as soon as they do they go.” 

“I dunno.” 

“Or maybe he isn’t avoiding me.” 

“What?” 

“Maybe he’s hurt somewhere. He does go really fast on that bike. Oh, god. I’ve called a dead man a bastard. I’m the worst. Why did you let me do that?” 

“Wha- You know what, never mind.” She shakes her head. “He’s not dead Y/n. And I’m sure he’s got a good reason for doing whatever he’s doing.” 

“Like?” You sigh and look at her. 

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “Why don’t you ask him yourself.” She says and nods behind you. 

You frown and follow her gaze, before your eyes meet his. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” She says and stands up, quickly making her way back into the diner. 

“Hi.” He’s the first to talk as he cautiously sits beside you.  

“Hey.” You reply, not bothering to look at him. 

It’s silent for a while. 

There’s quiet chatter from the diner that travels through the air, but apart from that its just an awkward silence. 

“Sorry I ran away.” He breaks it, daring a glance at you. “I guess it’s something we’re both quite good at.” He adds, and you send him a look.

“I don’t run. I quickly walk.” You remind him and he lets out a shaky laugh. “I am glad you’re back though.” You add. 

“Do you wanna go for a ride? And I’ll explain everything at the hotel.” 

“I’m at work.” You laugh and he frowns. “And I’m definitely not that easy.” 

“You were the other night.” He mumbles and you let out an offended gasp, slapping his arm lightly. 

“Ass.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Y/n? I hate to be this person, but I kinda need you in here.” Veronica interrupts, sending you an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry.” You shrug, smiling sadly at Sweet Pea. 

“Don’t worry.” He smiles, shifting against on the wooden seat. “I’ll wait for you.” 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Like I’m Gonna Lose You

Pairings: Arthur Shelby x Gender Neutral!Reader 

Request:  Hi!! Sorry to bother, but I had a silly idea and i would like to read it but i suck at writing 💀💀💀💀 i don't know if you can/want to do it, but maybe for the future... Arthur is married (new character) and a bad guy tries to take and hut her. Tommy (Arthur too of course, but my idea was more of a in-law relationship) does anything to get her back because he likes her for his brother and when he does gets her back she understands that Tommy will always be there for her and vice versa. 

Warning: Violence and cussing but what’s new?

Word Count: 3900

____________________________________________

Tommy had actually always liked you, which was odd for the Shelby, who never really seemed to like anyone that wasn’t blood (and even they were questionable sometimes). When you’d come to Tommy, desperate for a job, he was hesitant to accept. If it weren’t for the fact that he was desperate for someone that wasn’t a known Blinder to help him trick someone for a job, he wouldn’t have hired you. As luck would have it, though, he did need that special someone and you were hired. 

Nobody had ever expected you to work out as well as you did. You were helpful, kind, and uncharacteristically positive for a Peaky Blinder but you were also tough and scrappy, a fighter, who was just bad enough to fit in. You (usually) stayed out of the cocaine and you didn’t cause unnecessary trouble around town. 

You had caught Arthur’s eye immediately. Unrecognized beauty glowed when you walked into the room. When you weren’t out on jobs with Tommy, you were at the shop running the books. Arthur had made it a point to stop by and talk to you several times a day, adorably nervous instead of his stern facade. 

When you started dating, there was an immediate noticeable change in Arthur. He was happier, drinking a lot less, and much less violent. All of these were issues you were well aware of prior to accepting his offer for a night out, but that was just it. You knew. It was no surprise if he showed up at your home slobbering drunk or with a busted eyebrow from a brawl (that he most likely started). It wasn’t that you condoned the behavior but you knew what you were getting into and how to handle him, whereas other potential partners weren’t. What surprised everyone though, was when his drinking became more moderate and social instead of throwing pint after pint back for the sake of numbness. He snuck cocaine much less often (though there were a few nights where you did it together…). Arthur’s violent tendencies became subdued and his rage seemed to dissipate drastically. 

Arthur Shelby was a happy man for the first time in his life.

Tommy was hesitant about your relationship at first, only seeing it as causing issues for the company. You’d proved yourself to be quite the valuable asset to Shelby Company Ltd. and he was convinced that a fall-out between you and Arthur would mean the loss of your aid. But he quickly realized that you were just what his brother needed- just crazy enough to have a good time and not be too naggy or uptight but still pushing him to improve himself for his own well-being. He actually couldn’t have pictured a better person for his older brother to wed. 

So when Tommy picked up the phone to hear Arthur seething with rage, he was already ready to end someone’s life. 

“They got ‘em, Tommy. They fucking got them!” Arthur was furious and Tommy could almost see his face, red with anger. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Who got who, Arthur?” The Blinders weren’t at war with anyone at the moment so he felt oblivious as to what was going on but tense for a possible new enemy. 

Arthur gripped the letter that he found nailed into the front door of your home and ripped it from the thick nail, “Some bastards callin’ themselves the Green Snakes took Y/N. I came home and found the ‘ouse trashed and a letter nailed to the door. I’m gonna fucking kill them, Tommy.” 

“Wait at the house. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Tommy slammed the phone down before rushing to his car, pocketing two guns on the way. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, he was letting himself into yours and Arthur’s home. Arthur spun around and pointed a gun at the door as it opened, paranoid that the Green Snakes had returned but lowered the firearm when he saw it was Tommy. 

Like Arthur had described, the house was pretty trashed. The thin, long table off to the left right by the front door in the foyer was toppled over and the glass bowl that was on it was shattered in pieces across the ground. In the living room, a few wooden chairs were strewn around the room and the curtains had been torn down, now draped over the couch. But most notably, there was a blood stained knife on the ground as well as a trail of drops of blood leading out the door, and several smeared crimson handprints staining the cream-colored walls. It looked as if someone had been trying to hold onto the corners of the walls as someone dragged them away. 

Tommy turned to look at Arthur who was standing by the door. There was a moderate crack in dark green painted wood, split in the middle by an iron nail, at least three inches long. “Where’s the note?” Tommy asked, getting straight to the point. 

Arthur handed over the parchment to his brother. The paper was crinkled and torn at the top, most likely from Arthur crumbling it as it ripped it off the door. In somewhat sloppy black ink, the message was scrawled: We are rising to Snake your empire out from under you, Shelbys. It’s time someone brought you to your knees. You want them, come get them. 209 Milligan Ave.

“What the fuck is this, Tommy?” Arthur’s first thought had been that his brother had been conducting business with whoever these Green Snakes were behind everyone’s back. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten the whole family in trouble for the sake of his ego remaining intact. 

Tommy lowered the paper and did another scan of the room, “I don’t know. Arthur. I’ve never heard of the Green Snakes before but whoever they are, they’re messing with the wrong family.” 

Arthur watched his brother inspect the blood stains and ran his fingers through his messy hair, “Do you think it’s Y/N’s blood?” 

Tommy got close to the wall and squinted at one of the handprints, “I can’t say for sure but I have a feeling it’s not.” 

“Well I’m not gonna stand around speculating. I’m going to 209 Milligan Ave and I’m gonna fuckin’ slaughter every one of them.” Arthur threw his hat back on, palm just barely missing the concealed blade. He slid his gun into the holster beneath his coat and reached for the doorknob before Tommy stopped him. 

“Wait, brother.” 

Arthur paused and looked back, “‘m not wasting any time. Who knows what these Green Snakes are doing to ‘em?” 

“The last thing we need is a war, Arthur. We need to get in and get out as quietly as possible.” Tommy reached out for his brother’s arm but he pulled away. 

“A war?!” Arthur asked incredulously, “A fucking war? The love of my life is gone and you’re worried about some fucking turf war with a bunch of amateurs! I’m gonna go get them myself.” 

Arthur turned to go out the door, expecting Tommy to hold him back or tell him it was a trap, anything to keep him from leaving, but no protest ever came. Tommy only pulled out his car keys,  “I’ll drive.” 

** 

The day had been relatively quiet. You had business to do at home this particular morning so you’d arranged with Tommy that you’d just come in a few hours later than normal, which he was completely fine with. Arthur was… well he was supposed to be at the shop but knowing him, he was probably getting into trouble. 

It was nice to have the house to yourself. You loved Arthur but one of the things that had initially made you nervous about marrying him was that you’d never really have any private space again. Right now, though, you had a few hours to yourself so your favorite record was playing on the phonograph while you swept the floor, something that hadn’t been done in much longer than you’d like to admit. 

At first, you weren’t sure if you heard the knock on the front door over the music playing but when there was a second, louder knock, you knew for sure. You turned down the music and sighed, having a feeling it was probably John looking for his brother or something. Without any hesitation, you opened the door only to be shocked when three men you didn’t recognize stood there, “Oh, hello. Can I help you?” 

“You’re married to Arthur Shelby?” The one in the front, the leader of this pack, asked, twirling a toothpick between his teeth. 

Immediately, your guard went up and you moved the hand that was still concealed from view by the door over to grab the first hard thing you could find - a glass bowl on the small table by the door - and gripped it tightly. These men wouldn’t be here unless they were up to something suspicious or Arthur was dead, and you had a feeling from the way they sounded that it wasn’t the ladder. “Yeah.” You answered simply but firmly, showing you weren’t afraid of them. 

With a side glance to both of his men, the main guy nodded his head and, before you knew it, you were being rushed. You swung the glass bowl into the nearest one’s head, flinching away as the glass shattered in every direction. He fell with a grunt but the other one was already lunging towards you. You ducked and ran towards the main living area when you were grabbed around the waist. You thrashed and yelled, driving your elbow as hard as you could into his face. He dropped you, blood flowing down his face. 

Your feet hit the ground sloppily, your knees buckling a little from the sudden impact, but you made it to the kitchen nonetheless, frantically reaching for the first weapon-like object you could get your hands on, which just so happened to be a knife. When you turned around, the two men that had attacked you were already on their feet and coming towards you, blood running down both of their faces. The third one was nailing something to your door that you couldn’t make out. 

One of the men came at you from the front, tackling you to the ground when you overestimated just how much their weight you could support. Both of you landed with a thud but he was on his feet before you, dragging you towards him by the ankle. You kicked him harshly in the face with your free foot until he let go and you tried to crawl away, the knife still tight in your fist.

The other man tried to grab you by the hair but you sliced backwards blindly, slicing across his cheek in a fairly deep gash. He howled out in pain and let you go but not before his hands were back on you. You reached up and dug your nails into his freshly wounded flesh. He screamed out, kicking you to the side. Blood covered your hands and body and you were sure it looked like you must have just murdered someone. 

“Alright boys, quit playing games and just take ‘em already.” The leader demanded gruffly from the door, checking his watch. 

A bag was wrestled over your head from behind and when you reached up to try and tear it off, your hands were gripped and roughly tied up with rope in front of you. “Let me go!” You screamed as you were hoisted over one of the men’s shoulders, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

There was a wordless chuckle from the direction of the door as you thrashed about, trying to free yourself from the grip to no avail. You reached your bound hands out, blindly and desperately trying to cling to whatever leverage you could find. Your hands gripped one of the walls but no matter how hard you held onto it, the blood that covered your hands made your grip slip free. 

In a voice that imitated Arthur’s but was far from the original, the leader said, “By order of the Green fookin’ Snakes, the Peaky Blinders are no longer the kings of Birmingham.” 

** 

209 Milligan Ave was on the other end of Small Heath. The building didn’t look like much, just a single stand-alone brick building at the end of a foggy street. There weren’t any signs out front that established it as a place of business but it was definitely not a house either. There were a few other businesses around but this part of town was very clearly less populated than most other parts of the city. 

“This is probably a trap so stay ready. Stay alert.” Tommy warned his brother, though he knew he really didn’t have to. Arthur had been through worse than this. 

Arthur’s eyes were steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t fuckin’ care if it’s a trap. I just need Y/N back.” 

Tommy gave his older brother an insistent nod, “‘Ey, we’re going to get them back.” Arthur didn’t respond but he didn’t need to. 

Tommy walked up to the door and pushed it open without hesitation. Arthur followed close behind but it took everything in his power to not just pull the trigger on the first thing that moved but Tommy had insisted on a diplomatic approach first, mostly for the sake of them not killing you if they hadn’t already. 

The first room they walked into was large and open. Two doorways led to the back of the house but they couldn’t see anything back there. Tommy and Arthur didn’t need to look any further though. You were sitting in the middle of the room, arms tied behind the backrest of a wooden chair. Your legs too were bound to the wood legs of the seat and a cloth that looked none too clean was tied around your mouth as a gag. Hair stuck up messily around your head and blood coated your arms and face. 

Four men covered each corner of the room, leaning back casually but trying to be intimidating, like a cowboy leaning against the wall of a saloon. One more man, the one who had led your kidnapping, stood next to your chair. He looked to be about a rough thirty-five with sandy blonde hair and a work-worn face. 

Tommy could sense Arthur about to pop off and shoot everyone before saying a word so he spoke up before his brother could behave rashly. “You wanted us. You have us. What do you want?” Tommy demanded. 

“Eh, not ‘us.’ Just you, Thomas Shelby.” The blonde man said with a gruff cockney accent. 

Tommy shrugged his hands up in a vaguely exasperated motion, “Well here I am. Now let them go.” He nodded his head over to you, locking eyes with you. Everything will be okay, they seemed to tell you. He was relieved to see that your eyes weren’t broken but still fired up with rage and fear, just enough to fight your way out.

“C’mon, Tommy,” The man’s chest shook as he snorted, “Surely, as such a man of enterprise, you know that’s not how negotiations work.” 

“I don’t know who you think you are but this is no negotiation. I’ll ask one more time. Let. Y/N/. Go.” Tommy’s eyes were narrowed at the man. 

The signature toothpick that was between the blonde man’s teeth was plucked by his fingers tips and used to gesture, “The name’s Finnegan Bay and these are the Green Snakes.” He motioned to the four men around the room, “And we’re comin’ for the throat of the Peaky fookin’ Blinders.” He made his voice deeper as he jested about your gang and the way Arthur said it. 

Tommy’s cold, stern gaze was relentless and unyielding, the way it always was. It was predatory and threatening in a scarily unpredictable way. The man had no tells. He wore the same face when he was listening to a pleasant anecdote as he did when he was on the brink of killing someone.

“You really think you could take us down, eh? What? Some men from the factories wantin’ to feel like they’re somethin’ bigger than they are? Well, y’know what? You’re just that. Just some small men from the factories. Nothing more. You think cause you got some guns and a name that it means you’re something but you’re not.” He paused for just a moment for effect, “See, you’ve messed with my family. I’m gonna give you one chance to let them go before I kill each and every one of you. You can’t even imagine the things I’m capable of doing to you. I’ll make sure they never find your bodies. Now, this is last time I’m gonna tell you: let them go.” 

Finnegan reached down into his coat and pulled out a long knife. Your eyes widened as you watched him inspect the wide blade for just a moment before pointing it lazily at Tommy, “Y’see, it’s that right there. That attitude. The entitlement. The superiority complex. I think it’s time someone reminded Thomas Shelby of his place.” In a flash, he gripped your head from behind, palm smushing your face as he roughly pulled it back to expose your neck, holding the blade to your skin. 

You let out a muffled yell of shock and fear. Your heart raced in your chest and your stomach felt like it had butterflies, but more aggressive. Dragons? The sharp edge of the blade dug into the top few layers of skin, almost drawing blood but not quite. This wasn’t the first time you’d had a knife (or gun, for that matter) to your head but it never stopped being terrifying. 

Tommy sent a quick look over to his brother who had been standing there silently, seething with anger but obeying Thomas nonetheless. Arthur could almost predict not only the look but the succeeding actions as well after so many years of being in situations like this. 

Without even a pause after the blade made contact with your skin, Finnegan hit the ground dead. The loud bang from Tommy’s gun startled you and you flinched, the knife slicing just barely into your skin, finally drawing those drops of blood, but not nearly deep enough to cause actual life-risking damage. Blood splattered all over you as it flew from your captor’s chest, right where the first bullet landed. The knife slipped from the man’s limp hands and bounced off your leg before crashing on the floor. 

Just as soon as the first shot was fired, Tommy aimed his gun and shot the man in the far corner with the precision of a sniper before the other man could even process that Finnegan had been shot. Arthur turned and fired at the man behind him, hitting him in the side of the head. A few shots were fired from the men in the far left side and the back right side, both at Arthur and Tommy. 

You flinched, trying to make your body as small a target as you could to avoid the flying bullets but couldn’t get far with the rope holding you in place. Then you remembered the knife on the ground. The only way you could reach that would be to topple the chair and hope to goodness that your tied up hands could manage to grip the blade. The way your arms were tied around the back, though, would result in an arm breaking crash no matter which way you fell. 

Just as you were about to sike yourself up to deal with the pain and topple the chair, the gunfire ceased. At first, you were scared to look around and see who had fallen. A ceasefire either meant one team had one or everyone was dead and you weren’t sure you wanted to know either way. 

“Are you alright?” Tommy’s voice suddenly asked and you opened your eyes to see your husband and brother-in-law coming towards you quickly. 

You nodded, wishing you could speak if it weren’t for the damn gag. Arthur rushed to you and reached behind your head, untying the dirty cloth. The fabric fell from your mouth and you licked your lips a few times, your mouth agonizingly dry from being forced open for so long. 

Arthur inspected the areas on you that had blood, “Did you get shot? Did they hurt you?” 

You shook your head, arms coming to touch his face when Tommy cut your hands free, “No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m okay.” You almost were saying it to convince yourself more than anything. With the exception of the thin slice across your throat, you really were fine. Shaken up but alive. 

He helped you up and you shook out your arms, seeing the red burn around your wrists from the rope. Your biceps ached from where they’d been pressed against the wood so tightly and you were sure there were bruises on them beneath your shirt. 

Arthur’s arms wrapped around you like he’d never let you go. It was one of those “love you like I’m gonna lose you” moments where you both dropped any reserve or tough image that you usually held up and were just grateful for being blessed with each other. 

Tommy watched the two of you and almost smiled at the sight of seeing his brother so happy. Arthur really did deserve happiness; Tommy had always thought all of his brothers did.

You pulled away from Arthur and hugged Tommy. He was taken off guard for a moment, not usually one for physical affection, but wrapped his arms around your body in an awkward but sincere attempt at comforting you and acknowledging your appreciation. “Thank you.” He nodded, retracting his arms to regain his composure. Arthur came up to stand just beside you, his arm around your back, like he was scared to let you go again, though, of course, his face didn’t show it. 

“Yeah,” He acknowledged in his own laconic way, “Maybe we should get going before the cops show up. I’m sure the gunshots had a few people reaching for the phones.” Tommy adjusted his coat before heading out the door. 

You and Arthur followed closely behind and Tommy opened the door for you to get in, something he didn’t do for anyone except maybe a girl he was trying to coax under the sheets. Arthur helped you in and sat in the backseat with you, still not wanting to be away after the day’s events. 

There was a strange air in the car as Tommy drove you back to your home so you could clean up. Arthur kept his hand placed on your leg protectively, like you were his lifeline. Tommy’s silence wasn’t uncharacteristic but when you glanced up towards him, the two of you made eye contact in the rear view mirror. 

It lasted no more than a few seconds but the unspoken sentiment was clear and mutual. You were a true Shelby now and that meant that Tommy would do whatever it took to keep you alive. It was clear that you’d do the same for him as well, outside of what was expected as a member of the gang. 

Finding people to truly trust and love unconditionally in this life was difficult, whether it was family, friends, or spouses -  but you were finally that person. Arthur had found that love and security in you as a spouse and Tommy had found the same in you as your brother-in-law. For once, he felt that a small part of him could be happy because when he looked back and saw the way the deep, worrisome crinkles around Arthur’s eyes softened when he held you close, he knew that his brother had found something to live for. 

[spnsisterimagines]

Homecoming?

Summary - Y/N brings her first boyfriend home and has to face the terrifying wrath of her older brothers and single father.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader , Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader , John Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Word Count - 2,891 words

It was her very first homecoming. When she was a freshman, she didn't get to go. For one thing, she and Sam were set on research for Dean and their father. For another, nobody asked her to go because she was the weird new girl that had a throwing knife in her book bag after that nasty cheerleader Henrietta Marycomb thumbed through it in the girls' locker room after gym. Y/N easily took care of that situation, however, when she took one of the spiders near her motel room and slyly slipped it onto her lunch tray the next day.

But everything was going to be different for her sophomore year. It was a new school, so she wasn't known as the scary new kid with knives and spiders. She actually had a handful of friends, and she knew they would stay there until Christmas since her father had a lead that would keep him busy for a good few months. She also finally had someone ask her. James Cleese was her friend from Geometry. He was a junior, only one year older than her, and he was probably the cutest boy she'd ever met. He was tall and lean, his legs muscled from being on the varsity soccer team. He had messy brown hair that fell over his forehead, constantly tempting Y/N at running her fingers through it. He had the biggest brown eyes she had ever seen, which he often used on her at lunch when he wanted her milk carton. He constantly talked about soccer games and Harry Potter. Overall, he was a great guy, and he had asked her in the sweetest yet corniest way possible.

Their friend group consisted of four people, including himself and Y/N. The other two were Jane Collins and Elyse Porter. He had convinced them to wear custom t-shirts that had the question stitched on the front and answer choices on the back. After handing her a check mark with a slip of tape across the top, she had put it on the shirt that read yes before squealing in delight as he pulled her into his arms and spun her around. It was what almost every high school kid wanted from a date. It was sickeningly romantic, and Y/N couldn't wait to go with him. 

Unfortunately, the step after accepting his invitation was notifying her brothers and father, which she forgot to do until the day James was supposed to retrieve her. Sam and Dean had to have known homecoming was coming up. At least Sam should have known since Dean had graduated that year prior, but he was always excited for the big dances and football games, even if they rarely got to attend due to their shabby attendance record. 

As for Sam, he was keen on spending his senior year with his nose behind a book; Y/N was sure he wasn't even aware that it was October. Either way, neither her brothers nor her busy father knew that she'd be attending the Homecoming dance with a boy they'd never met. And she truly intended to tell them, but every time she tried they were either busy with a case her father was stuck on or arguing about some stupid football team. Besides, Y/N had no idea how they would react. 

Dean and Sam were always relatively protective over their baby sister, but that was with hunts and monsters. The thought of boys(or girls) never really crossed their mind because they figured Y/N was never interested in dating. It never bothered to occur to them that, perhaps, Y/N would be open to seeing other people that weren't her brothers teasing her or her father playfully ruffling her hair as he wandered to the fridge to get another drink. This would be a rather dramatic wake up call. No warning. No foreshadowing. Just a boy appearing at their door in a cheap outfit with a flower in his tightly clutched hand. 

James didn't question the fact Y/N lived in a motel. He didn't really care where she lived, and for that she was grateful. Most people would make fun of her, and they have. 

Anyway, the night approached for the dance. Y/N had managed to use up all her allowance for a cheap purple gown that fell down to her knees. A pair of nice sandals would suffice for her shoes for the night. She wouldn't be caught dead in heels. She'd fall right on her face, she was sure. She had spent over two hours in the bathroom getting ready, putting on little make up to make her eyes pop along with a little lip gloss that Jane let her borrow. Her father was asleep on the arm chair, so he didn't notice. Dean was watching television and Sam was content on one of the beds with a book pulled open on his lap. They didn't bother to check in on their sister, figuring she was just taking a shower. But Dean really had to use the restroom, so now he was pounding annoyingly on the thin wood. 

"Y/N! C'mon! I ain't goin' outside!" he called for the fifth time, not taking no for an answer again. Y/N was attempting to curl her hair, but the cheap iron didn't want to work with her. Eventually she just decided to pin it back, smoothing out any bumps and checking her face for any blemishes or stray marks from the mascara she had used. She looked very pretty. Swelling with confidence, she unlocked the bathroom door and opened it wide, scowling up at her brother. 

"You're so whiny," she insulted, stepping around him toward her duffel bag that contained the small purse she wanted to take to the dance. 

"Woah, woah, woah," Dean said, forgetting all about his need for the bathroom. "Why are you so dolled up?"

From the bed, Sam looked up. He eyed his sister in surprise. She normally wore flannel and skinny jeans; basically anything that had her ready to fight was her sense of style. He rarely saw her in anything remotely feminine. His eyebrows creased, closing the book and inching his way out of bed as though he was going to inspect Y/N closer. 

"Is that make-up?" he asked.

"Yes," Y/N said hesitantly. This was going to come out sooner or later. "I'm going to the homecoming dance tonight."

"You've practically got nothing on. The hell do you think you're doing wearing something so short?" Dean snorted. "Wait a minute, since when were dances your thing?"

"Since I was asked?" Y/N replied sarcastically. "And you can't even see my thighs. I'm not exactly dressed like a flapper." 

"Wait, you were asked to the dance?" Sam asked, looking thoroughly surprised. How could he not know about this? They attended the same school! Granted, she stuck with the sophomores and juniors while he was perfectly fine by himself in the library, but that kind of news normally spread like wildfire, especially in a small town school like theirs. "By who?"

"James Cleese. You don't know him. He's a friend from my math class," Y/N shrugged it off, hoping if she played it off as though it weren't a big deal, they'd do the same. Clearly she didn't know her brothers as well as she thought because now they were rounding on her like two mother hens. Sam was fussing over the amount of mascara she was wearing and Dean was adamant that she not go out at all unless she had something to cover her shoulders with. Their father snoozed on, completely unaware of what was happening with his three children. They were only interrupted by a knock at the door. Their father stirred, opening his eyes groggily and looking over the top of his chair. 

"Who's there?" he grunted, suddenly alert. "Who the hell knows we're here?"

"Daddy, it's my friend," Y/N supplied with ease, sending him a calm smile. That didn't work since he was now a third witness to her appearance. He shot out of his chair, suddenly clutching his right hip where his trusty gun sat. "Dad, no! It's just James. He's here to pick me up. He's a really nice boy, you'd like him! You'd all like him! Let me just get the do-"

Her father didn't listen, instead marching right over to the door and unlocking it aggressively and yanking it open. James stood there awkwardly, for once not wearing his cheesy grin he used on Y/N constantly. He had on a nice button up with a navy blue tie neatly laid over his chest. He held onto a lily in his right hand, his left held up as though he were going to knock again. 

"Uh, hi," he greeted. "You must be Y/N's father. I'm James, sir. James Cleese." He thrust out a hand for John to shake, but he just stared down at it before slamming the door in his face. 

"Dad!" Y/N hissed, pushing past her brothers and getting to the door, quickly pulling it back open. "James, you just wait here!"

"O-Okay. Is everything alr-" She slammed the door back in his face and whipped around to face the three men, all of which had completely forgotten what they were previously doing, instead shocked over what Y/N was now putting them through. She wasn't supposed to be interested in boys yet. That was supposed to be a foreign concept to her. She still needed to think they had cooties, but here she was dressed really nice with her hair pinned back and make-up really bringing out the beautiful details in her now hostile face as she looked at them. 

"Alright, so I didn't say anything. But it's because I knew this was exactly what was going to happen!" she snarled, pointing an accusing finger in their direction.

"I'm sorry, can someone clue me in on what the hell is going on? Why are you dressed like that? Why the hell is there a boy with a flower on my doorstep?" John demanded. 

"Y/N got asked to the homecoming, Dad," Sam explained hastily. 

"And she's not going," Dean added.

"Excuse me?" Y/N scoffed, completely offended. 

"We don't even know this kid. For all we know, he could be some dick wanting to lose his V-card to the nice girl that blew into town unexpectedly." Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. 

"Right, because he really seemed like the type! Dean, he's my friend. I know him. Really, I do. I know it's hard to believe I have a life outside of the three of you, but I do!" Y/N said. "Daddy, I promise you. He is so nice. He likes me. He really does. He plays soccer, he's okay at math, and he's really funny! He likes all those stupid old sitcoms that you like!"

John shook his head. "I dunno. This is the first I'm even hearing of this. Why the hell would you wait for the day of?"

"Like I said, I knew you guys would react like this."

"What, like reasonable family? Look, I know you're living in that little fantasy in your head. You want to believe this guy is good through and through, but let me give you a tour behind the curtain. All men are assholes. All of us." Sam looked slightly offended at that, but he didn't say anything. But that seemed to be the last straw for their sister.

Y/N grit her teeth, fighting off the urge to kick off her sandals and beat the living hell out of her elder brother. "Actually, he's a nice boy that's my friend that wanted to go to the dance with me, alright? You know, that's so unfair! None of us bat an eye when you go home with a girl or when Sammy talks to a girl when he's not nose-banging whatever law book he's managed to find! And I'm not even being inappropriate; it's a school dance that's supervised by staff members! Jane and Elyse are tagging along! He's not gonna pull me down in the middle of the dance floor and hoist up my dress!"

They grimaced, feeling even angrier at just the thought of a boy violating Y/N, but they couldn't find much of an argument. She just wanted to go out and have fun. Who were they to stop that from happening? It was selfish. And...maybe she had grown up from that little girl that didn't give boys a second glance. Plus, she was also a Winchester. She was perfectly capable of defending herself against anyone that put their hands on her, including a stupid boy from class that wanted to take her out for the night. 

Sam was the first to speak. "She's right. It's just a dance, Dean. C'mon. She never really asks to go anywhere." 

Dean didn't answer right away. He stared at Y/N, his arms still crossed stubbornly. She was giving him her best puppy dog eyes, clutching her hands to her chest as she looked him in the eyes. He hated when she did that. That was the face she often pulled on dad when Dean and her were arguing so he'd take Y/N's side. Dean could understand finally why it always worked. It was very difficult to say no to that face. He finally looked up to his Dad, who also had his arms crossed. The two of them would be the hardest to crack, and they didn't seem to want to make a move until the other did. 

"Okay, he's still waiting outside, and I don't think he'll be there much longer. Someone say something," Y/N said, throwing her hands out in exasperation.

"Fine," John said at last, lifting a hand to rub at his temples. Dean looked up at him in surprise. Y/N elicited an excited squeal, throwing her arms around her father in a tight hug. He gingerly patted her head, not used to the physical affection. He loved his daughter to the moon  and back, but they weren't necessarily a family that constantly hugged and exclaimed 'I love yous'. Dean still looked hesitant, but he couldn't stop her now that their father gave her the green light. 

While she went to hug Sammy, John opened the door back up to James, who was standing there bouncing on the tips of his toes. He froze once he saw him again, his eyes flying toward the gun that was very obvious in the streetlights. He gave him a nervous smile, holding the lily a little tighter in his fist. 

"James...I'm John Winchester, Y/N's father," John said, as though he hadn't previously slammed the door in his face. This time he held a hand out for James to shake, to which he did so eagerly. Although John seemed to be holding his hand a little too tight, making James wince. When the handshake finished, he let James step in and see Y/N separate from her hug with Sam. His mouth slightly dropped and his eyes brightened considerably. 

"Wow...you look amazing," he complimented. "I only saw a glimpse of you earlier before you..."

"Yeah, let's not talk about it," Y/N smiled, walking over to him and taking the lily and pinning it into her hair. "You look really nice, too. A little sad you didn't go commando like I wanted." Dean physically growled. "I'm kidding, Dean! Let me just get my purse, James, and we can go." She pecked his cheek and, once more, went to dig through her duffel bag. This left James with her two big brothers. Some would say they're an even bigger threat compared to John. 

"Hey, James, I'm Sam," Sam introduced himself, also thrusting out a hand for him to shake. James obliged, wishing he chose a different hand since it was still slightly sore from John's handshake. "Not to be that guy...but we do expect her home at ten. And if there's any sign that anything happened...we're proud gun owners."

"Okay," James squeaked. Dean came up behind Sam, not holding a hand out. 

"We mean it. Even if it's just a hair out of place or the tiniest hint at a hickey...I will personally find you myself." 

"Nothing will happen, I promise," James declared shakily, grateful when Y/N returned to his side with her purse slung over her shoulder. 

"They're just joking with you, don't take them so seriously. Dean can't even aim at the toilet," Y/N smirked, ignoring her brother's disgusted pleas for her to shut up. "You ready to go? Jane and Elyse are probably wondering where we are."

"Yes, yes I am," James eagerly nodded his head. "It was nice to meet all of you. I promise to have Y/N back at ten safe and sound."

"That'll give us enough time in the back of your truck," Y/N smirked, slamming the door shut behind them. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouted as a warning.

Both brothers watched through the only window their motel room offered as James' truck pulled out of the parking lot and down the road. 

"Don't you worry, boys. Nothin's gonna happen to your sister," John assured, going through the fridge and grabbing a beer. 

"How are you so sure?" Dean asked. 

"Because I slipped a knife into her purse before she left," John answered coolly, popping open the can and slipping back into the armchair.

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part Four (1/2) [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

Two days after Rudy got home you had left for your fishing trip with your Dad. It had been a typical trip for the time of year, sketchy weather at best that made for some interesting maneuvering of waves and necessary local knowledge of how the channels and tides worked. It hardly phased you, you had become something of an expert in navigating rough waters lately.

The fishing had been scant and after the first day the youngest member of the crew had gotten so bored with the older gentlemen he was accompanying that he took to flirting with you for the next two days, which was both a blessing and a curse. It gave you a distraction from your incessant thoughts about Rudy being home, but served as a reminder that even in the face of an (arguably very attractive) tourist who was clearly making an effort, you couldn’t think about anyone else but Rudy. The one hour of peace you got every afternoon when the boat was anchored so the crew could fish the shoreline gave you time to concoct the idea of a welcome home party for Rudy. 

After some collaboration with Lizzy and a few people you had graduated with, it ended up becoming a pallet party with a keg in the bush near the Viewpoint (the popular make out spot when you were 15, but also the best clearing/parking lot for more than 5 cars). Half the town had shown up - it was a roaring success, so much so that you had seen Rudy for a total of 10 minutes since the party started.

Lizzy had invited Junior in spite of your numerous attempts to dissuade her (Junior was obnoxious when he was drunk), but she had persisted, noting that she thought they had had a ‘moment’ when she had hopped in his rental truck that day at the beach, and she wanted to investigate further. Naturally this had led to Junior giving her the cold shoulder, her binge drinking and making out with one of the contract fisherman, and Junior following you around for the next hour while you tried to keep him at arms length. He had spotted you on your way to your car and was tripping down the pathway after you now.

“Forget it Junior...just leave me alone” you waved your hand behind you, shooing him away as you walked down the path towards the cars.

“Ah, don’t be like that Y/N” he slurred, stumbling over a root and steadying himself with your shoulder. “I just wanna talk”

“Tough luck” You walked straight ahead and kept your eyes forward, no step faltering, no patience. “Get outta here before I whack you with a stick.”

“Whack me. With a stick.” He repeated, snorting. “Yeah rig- OUCH!”

You threw the stick back down on the ground and continued walking, not looking behind you but knowing he was still following you, albeit now clutching his arm in pain.

“You know, you got really aggressive after we broke up and part of me feels like I could help you fix that” Junior was slurring so disgustingly that a dribble of spit had built up on the side of his lip. You had stopped walking and turned to face him, putting your hand out to stop him from coming closer.

“If anything makes me aggressive Junior, its the fact you STILL follow me around like a lost puppy when you’re drinking. We broke up 5 years ago. Move on man.” You said flatly, pointing back towards the party. You didn’t bother lowering your voice or speaking quietly, the party was so loud that nobody would hear you anyways. “Now fuck off and leave me alone.”

Junior stood his ground resiliently and locked his (dilated) pupils on you, setting his jaw. He tried to cross his arms but he lost balance and had to side step to stop from falling over. 

“Hey man, you good?” Rudy appeared behind him down the path, a can in his hand, walking with distinct purpose directly towards you. Junior looked behind him and groaned, his face souring.

“Dude you really gotta mind your own.” He said with an ego-soaked tone, staring at Rudy for a few seconds before Rudy’s significantly stronger and more sober grip dug into Junior’s shoulder and Junior stiffened.

“I think you should walk away and go back to the party.” Rudy nodded, guiding Junior around him and back down the trail. He stood his ground until Junior looked at you and shook his head.

‘Whatever’ he mumbled before shoving Rudy’s hand off and tripping a few steps backwards. 

“You know, this is so typical. Even after you bailed on her and disappeared, she STILL picks you.” He said, swinging his arm out and frowning directly at you know. “When he puts you in the hospital this time, don’t come running to me.”

With that, he turned and started back down the path towards the fire. Rudy watched him for a few seconds before turning back and looking at you, his face dark with shadows. The moonlight streaming through the trees illuminated your face, showing him your eyes wet with tears. You shook your head and ran a hand over your face, throwing your hands in the air defeatedly.

“What was he talking about?” Rudy took a step towards you but you turned away from him and put your hands on your head, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing. Drunk rambling. He’s an idiot.” You said quietly, breathing steadily and calming yourself.

“Well, no disputing that.” Rudy said quickly, then walked around to see you. “What did he mean about the hospital?” 

You put your arms down and put your hands in your sweater pockets, shrugging.

“Like I said, drunk rambling.”

Rudy held your eyes for a few seconds then reached in his pocket and grabbed a beer, passing it to you slowly. You smiled apologetically and accepted it, cracking it open loudly. He spun to look down the path towards the cars, shoulder to shoulder with you, and fell in step when you started walking again.

“You never mentioned you were in the hospital.” He spoke after a few quiet moments.

“It was a long time ago.” You shrugged, taking a swig of the beer he had given you. Your head was starting to get fuzzy. You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or like...ever, actually. “I told you about the specialists...I thought I mentioned it.” You lied.

“You for sure did not mention being in the hospital, Y/N.” He spoke intently, clearly, you could feel him looking at you. “Why?” 

You bit your tongue and groaned internally, knowing there was nothing for it now.

“I don’t know” Lie. You knew perfectly well. “I guess it just seemed selfish to burden you with it...you were busy, you had just moved to LA.” A half lie, you knew if he knew you were in the hospital he would want to come back and you didn’t want to interfere with his shot. “Besides, it wasn’t anything major.” A big lie.

Rudy cleared his throat and stopped walking, putting his arm out to stop you as well. Confused, you looked at him and waited, the darkness from the tree cover making it hard to see anything but the outline of his features.

“Just...will you please be honest with me for a few minutes.” He started shaking his empty beer can against his leg nervously. 

You nodded, acutely aware of how close you were standing to him. You were dreading this conversation but it felt inevitable now.

“How bad was it. Actually.”

You crinkled your nose and looked around, wanting desperately to lie to him again but knowing that you couldn’t. You took a long swig and swallowed slowly, biding your time. Finally, you looked at him as you spoke.

“Pretty bad.” You chose your words carefully. “I was in there for a few weeks...I had some heart complications due to malnutrition and it took a bit to get it stable again. When they discharged me I had to see some specialists, monitor everything to make sure there was no permanent damage.”

Rudy watched you intently, breathing but not moving.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I was embarrassed.” You said finally, looking directly back at him now. He didn’t speak, he just held your gaze silently. You turned, take a few small steps forward slowly. He followed.

“I mean it didn’t even make sense at the time, to me anyways. I had never been that person, I was healthy. Then suddenly...I don't know. Something changed. I just...I didn’t want to eat. Food wasn’t appealing. It wasn’t like I chose not to or was counting calories or anything...it wasn’t like that.” You looked over at him to reinforce the importance of your point. He nodded and kept close to you as you kept walked. “It just...I felt like I lost interest. Not just in food...in a lot of things. I sorta just lost my purpose...shit.” You laughed humourlessly and sniffed your nose, which was cold from the wet air. “I guess I kinda lost myself.”

It felt peculiar to speak this openly about it, especially with Rudy, when you hadn’t talked to anyone aside from your therapist about it since it happened.

“Thank you” Rudy said quietly, after a few moments of silence. You had reached the end of the path that led to the viewpoint clearing, both illuminated fully in the moonlight. Now that you could see him properly you could see that his face was covered in a pained expression, his shoulders slightly sagging. 

“For what” You questioned, slowing down and turning more towards him as you walked.

“For telling me all that.” He smiled at you, a small, sad smile. “Its not easy to open up like that.”

Something passed over his face and his eyes glazed momentarily, drifting somewhere else. You felt yourself take a step closer to him, tipping your head to catch his eye. He smiled down at you and blinked back into the present, sighing lightly.

“I almost called you...a hundred times over.” He said finally, looking over your head at the trees and then back to you. “I never did. Then so much time passed I felt like I couldn’t and...” He closed his mouth and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “and now I wish I had just picked up the phone” He choked out, struggling to form the words.

You felt a weight on your shoulders and a tightness in your chest as he spoke, he looked distraught. You didn’t know what to say, or if there was anything to say, so you stood still, keeping hold of his gaze and praying he would say something else. He didn’t. 

Instead, he put his arm over your shoulders and pulled you in beside him, walking you both forward into the clearing towards the viewpoint fence. He leaned his head down and pressed a kiss into your hair firmly, you closed your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of the wet earth and cedar trees. You felt lightheaded and calm, more calm than you had felt in months. When you reached the fence, he removed his arm and leaned both forearms on the top of the fence, rocking on his feet and looking out across the valley and down at the mudflats. 

“Why didn’t you call?” You asked out of curiosity, matching his posture and leaning over the fence.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He said mindlessly, as if the answer was just under the surface. “After I left you on the beach I was pretty certain you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I didn’t” You breathed, looking at the side of his face, he winced when you spoke. “I wasted a lot of time being angry at you that year.” 

He met your eyes and his face relaxed when he saw your expression. You smiled and bumped his shoulder with yours.

“I’m happy you’re here now,” You said gently, picking at a piece of the metal. “For the record.”

“Me too.” He placed his chin on his fist, watching you again.

“My turn” You raised your eyebrows and smiled at him, watching his eyes roll and a small laugh escape.

“Fair enough. Fire away captain.”

“Tell me about Anna.”

He looked over at you with a confused expression at first, which slowly shifted to a straight face, then his shoulders sagged and he leaned into the fence, grunting.

“She is my agent. That’s it.” He said firmly, staring at a tree top on the hillside down the embankment below you.

You waited, when he didn’t continue you closed your mouth and took a step back, turning towards the pathway back to the party.

“Alright” You said airily, gesturing to the path when he looked up at you. “Fine.”

“What” He watched you backing away from him. You inhaled sharply and shook your head, smiling.

“We can have that conversation a different time then, but...you cannot lie to me, Rudy Pankow. You are terrible at it. Truly.”

You made the comment lightheartedly but you both recognized the truth in it. Rudy looked around and up at the clear night sky for a moment before looking back at you and smiling knowingly.

“Just give me a couple days to enjoy you before I ruin it with my E! True Hollywood Story, alright?” He said sarcastically, walking towards you and stopping a breath from your face. “Now, lets go get drunk.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat and you replayed him saying give me a couple days to enjoy you until the imprint of his voice faded from your brain. You followed him in a daze back to the party, making easy conversation about how the fishing trip had been, stopping when you reached the keg and grabbing cups. You took it gratefully and raised it to your lips, taking a few large gulps quickly. When you lowered the cup and raised your arm to wipe your mouth, you noticed Rudy was watching you, laughing lightly, his cup still full.

“What - do I have ...is there something on my face?” You wiped your sleeve around your mouth, suddenly self conscious. Someone behind you bumped you and you fell forward, Rudy steadying you with his hands. 

“Easy there, Little Fern” He laughed, helping you stand straight again.

You cringed, wiping the beer that had spilled on your hand.

“Sorry” You looked around for the culprit, but it was impossible to tell who had bumped you. Rudy’s eyes focussed on you and he lifted his full cup, nodding.

“To you.” He tipped his cup when you lifted yours to cheers him. “To us. To...making up for lost time.” His expression was hard to read, but you thought you understood it, it was recognition and happiness and gratefulness and hopefulness all wrapped up in one. 

“Cheers” You said almost inaudibly, lost in his gaze. The fire cracked behind you, breaking your concentration on him.

“A-and-” You stuttered, blinking hazily. “-Cheers to you. Being here. With Me.”

Rudy grinned at you, winking, before clinking his cup to yours and then proceeding to down the entire thing in one go. He chucked the empty cup into the fire and let out a loud yelp, several people around you raising their cups in the air and shouting encouragements. When he looked at you again you swore you saw the breath leave his lungs. He was looking at you with a hazy yet intense expression, his smile rising and falling but his eyes firm, making you feel like the only person he could see.

“What...” You smiled, chuckling lightly. Rudy blinked at you a few times before taking a step forward and swallowing, dipping his head closer to yours so you could hear over the roar of the fire and conversation. 

“Let’s go” He spoke clearly, keeping his face near yours.

“What? Where? We can’t leave YOUR welcome home party” You clamoured for words, your stomach fluttering. 

“Yes, we can. Come on, they’re not here for me, they’re here for the beer and the fire. Lets go.”

“Where?” You turned your face to look at him, your nose brushing his cheek. You felt blood rushing to your face.

“Anywhere” He said in a low voice, hot breath that smelled of beer wafting over you.

You didn’t answer, you simply leaned your head back a bit to see his eyes clearly, and smiled, nodding once. He grabbed your hand firmly and led you away from the keg towards the cars. 

Continued in Part 4.2

____________________________________________

Tag List: @bluebirdsbluebells​, @sunshinemadds​, @lovelymaybankk​, @poguestyleskye​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @k-k0129​, @kimyeon-tae​, @ellystone​, @faded-blue​, @thebeautifulbookworm

[lifeofroos]

Bonus chapter! (Or part 21, if you want).  ‘Bonus chapters’ will be chapters that don’t follow the story of Nico’s recovery, but still tell something interesting about the characters or the world.

In short: Usually, this story is about Nico getting Therapy from Dionysus, but this is a bonus chapter told in Dionysus Point-of-view. It is not about Nico. The rest of the (and the actual) story is on AO3 and FanFiction.net! (And it can also be found in a few of my tags on Tumblr, like writing, fanfiction and Nico di Angelo).

This might be Crazy: Bonus Chapter: Diluted Wine

It was late. Most people in the town were already sleeping while I ran through the streets, to the ever-lit hearth in the centre. I slowed my pace when I saw it. With a sigh, I sat down in front of the fireplace. The soft crackeling soothed my nerves a little. 

I took a deep, shaky breath. Just a little while before, the events of the last few days had all come crashing down on me, as if I had just now realised what was going on. Even after a small walk, it was still all spinning in my head. I felt guilt, sadness, happiness, pain, anger, pride and euphoria, all at the same time.

I took another deep breath and got out my flask with diluted wine. I let some of it seep into the fireplace. ‘Honoured Hestia,’ I muttered, ‘please accept my offering. If you have any advice to share, can you do it now?’ A few tears ran down my face, while I stared into the flames, not expecting anything to happen. Most gods had done nothing but ignore me for the past sixteen years. I did not think Hestia would be an exception. 

I turned my head away from the hearth. The houses looked quiet and peaceful. I wished that I was in one of those houses, sleeping, like a normal sixteen year old, without mountain-high expectations on my shoulders.

‘Nyssa, it is late, shouldn’t you be trying to get some sleep?’

With a little start, I turned back to the fire. A woman with brown hair and a simple tunic was tending to the flames. When she looked at me, I got the calming sensation that everything was okay, everything would be where it should be. 

‘My name is Hestia.’ 

I bowed my head. ‘Your majesty…’

‘It’s okay.’ She moved her hand through the fire and took out a freshly baked flatbread. ‘Here. You have eaten very little the past few days. You can’t live on wine alone.’ I took the bread from her, but did not take a bite. I had not been very hungry the past few days. 

‘So. What brings you here, so far away from home?’

‘The nature spirits took me here. After they tasted… wait, you have already heard of wine?’ It made me stop talking for a second. I had never thought news would travel so fast. 

‘Yes, of course I have. Go on, dear.’

‘Eh... Well, the nature spirits are crazy about it.’ I hid my mouth behind my hand for a moment. ‘Literally. They were literally crazy about it.’ I tried to push the thoughts of fights, dances and shouting away. ‘And, anyway, they thought we should share it with the rest of the world. So we went to this town that is the closest town with. Tomorrow… they are planning on bringing me to the king. And…’ I shrugged. 

Hestia nodded. ‘Firstly, take a bite. You need to eat.’ I looked at the bread and tore off a small bit. I stuck it in my mouth. ‘It’s delicious.’ 

Hestia smiled and nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She slowly pushed a strand of hair out of her face, while I ate another small chunk of bread. I slowly grabbed my flask and took a sip. 

‘Yet, about your problem. I noticed you are nervous.’

‘Yes.’ 

‘Do you, you yourself, want to go to the king?’

I looked at the bread. I tore off another crust, before pushing it away. ‘I… yes. I want to go to the king. If anything, I do feel like other people might want to know about wine. But I am still nervous. The nature spirits all seem to think so highly of it, and of me, it… it just seems impossible.’

‘You offered some of the wine to me.’ I put my hand on my flask. ‘It is diluted, right?’

‘Yes, it is more water than wine. I noticed that people don’t get sick if they drink water with some wine mixed through.’

‘So it cleans up the water. That indeed sounds like something other people want to know about. Something that can make the water better and more accessible, you can certainly help a few people with that.’

‘A few?’

‘At least.’

‘Just a few. That’s fine.’ I smiled, and took another sip. ‘I’ll… I’ll just have to go there tomorrow, no matter how nervous I am.’ The towns’ people never needed to drink it undiluted. They would never have to go crazy. The thoughts did not calm me at all, but Hestia’s presence did make me almost believe them. The goddess pushed the bread towards me again, but I did not immediately touch it. 

We sat in silence for some time. I had another question and I guess Hestia sensed it. What I wanted to say might be considered rude. On the other hand, I now had a chance to ask it. Who knew when such a chance would present itself again? 

‘What is it like to be a god?’

Hestia smiled at me, like she knew I would ask it. ‘What is it like to be human?’ 

I even let out a little laugh when she answered with that. ‘Difficult to explain. I get it.’ 

‘But I don’t think that is all you meant with that question.’

My smile faded away. ‘...no.’ 

She quietly stared at the fire. If I wanted to say what I wanted to say, I had to do it now. ‘It is just so weird, eh…’

‘Aunt Hestia.’

‘Aunt... Hestia. I mean, many of the gods took a lot of risks to keep me alive when I was a baby. But then I grew from toddler to child, and they were just… gone. They all left and never came back. People told me I was Zeus’s son, made it clear that they had high expectations of me, and then never asked if I wanted any help. Right now, it feels like I  am about to fulfill some of those expectations, and there is… almost nobody. Hermes sent me some weird herbs, but I heard nothing from anybody else. The only one who properly talked to me, are you. And… why? Just why? I… I don’t get it. I just don’t get it, Hestia.’

Hestia stayed quiet for a second. ‘Gods are selfish creatures,’ she said slowly. I looked up. ‘When the gods get attached to their kids, and something happens to that child, it will ache for years to come, if not forever. Being hurt for the rest of your life when that life does not come to an end is…’ She shook her head, with a sad look on her face. I wondered if she had to miss someone, and who that person had been. ‘So most gods choose to let their kids live without them. They try to give them a happy life, but they know they can’t be in it.’ She swallowed. 

I looked at the bread and tore off a bigger chunk. ‘I… sorry, Hestia.’ I wanted to say I understood, and perhaps I did, but it hurt more than I wanted to admit. It still felt so unfair. Why did the gods have demigod children in the first place, if they knew they could not take care of them? 

‘It’s okay, Nyssa. I understand why you asked.’ 

‘I… I need to thank you for being here for me. That you want to do that, even though...’ I stared at the bread in my hand.

Hestia smiled a sad little smile. ‘The fates weave a strange life for some people, Dionyssa. From what they have shown me, I think you need someone to help you right now. With that I also mean that I need to tell you to eat.’ 

I put the chunk of bread in my mouth, a little confused that she called me Dionyssa instead of just Nyssa. ‘Yes.’ 

Hestia looked at me. ‘I’ll see you again some day.’

‘Thanks. Thanks… for everything. The bread, your advice, and the truth.’ She gave me one last smile, before she disappeared. 

I stared into the flames. Dionyssa. Dio meant god, Nyssa was the mountain I lived on and which the people quickly began to name me after. So god of mount Nyssa - the implication of that sentence almost made me nauseous. I remembered what the nature spirits had said after tasting wine for the first time. That only a god could make something like this. I flinched. Slowly, I took another swig of water, which was sweet from the wine. The fates weave a strange life for some people. It felt like I would soon find out what they had woven for me. 

A/N: while writing this, I thought I could maybe do another bonus chapter in the future, which shows Dionysus perspective on the therapy sessions,  or a bonus chapter where he talks to someone else about his experience as a therapist. Good idea? 

I think I announced this bonus chapter a while back. Well, here it finally is. 

Happy and healthy new year to all of you! Next year, I’ll be back with more Nico! (Obviously I have not forgotten around favorite  death child :). A bonus chapter felt like a nice way to close off 2020  ;).

[themangledsans0508]

Grasping at Control

Allie can suck my wee if she’s reading this you bitch.

TW: Self-Harm

Tweek Tweak considered himself the most fucked-up person in the entirety of South Park, which was quite an achievement considering he went to school with actual sociopaths, murderers, and drug dealers.

Yet here he was, a cocktail of addiction, anxiety, ADHD, and depression. He felt pretty alone, despite all the years he had to make friends and come to terms with himself. One of two kids out as gay, and very few adults in their town understanding, much less out themselves; he had no one to talk to. 

Just thinking about it made him want to curl up into a ball and suffocate.

And he tried.

He wrapped himself up in blankets and cried.

He cried for what felt like ages before he got sick of feeling miserable from the stale air that had just enough oxygen in it to keep him alive. 

He crawled out and sat, shaking violently. Why did he want this to happen? Why didn’t he want to be alive?

Mr Mackey had lectured them many, many times on what to do if you or someone you knew felt like they wanted to kill themselves, and Tweek wouldn’t hesitate to act if someone else felt the same way he did.

So why didn’t he care about himself?

He thought back to fourth grade when Kim Jong Un marked him as a possible target if war were to break out and Craig brought him to an amusement park.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m actually in control of my goddamn emotions, you baby!”

That exchange had only been a minute long, but Tweek had never forgotten it. Craig was right, he wasn’t in control of his emotions. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even in control of his movements.

He wasn’t in control of anything. He snapped back to the present from the pain of his hair being torn out by himself, and he tried to stop himself.

His movements were involuntary, even when putting his force against them he couldn’t stop himself.

He screamed in frustration. He didn’t care if anyone heard him, because he knew from experience that nobody would do anything even if he was being murdered. His own parents didn’t care for him. The only reason his dad kept him was because having a kid helped his coffee shop.  As he got older, his dad also got free labour out of him as the form of “chores.”

His hands flew from his hair to his arms, tearing up his skin to the point he bled. He looked down to see the mess and rushed to the bathroom to prevent his room from turning into a crime scene.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Small patches of hair missing from his scalp, large bags under his eyes that served to highlight the tears running down his face. There were scratches down his cheeks from his nails dragging down his face and when he raised his hand to feel them, his arms showed a nightmare of red lines intersecting so much that they looked like a terrible map. 

He reached for the bandages under the counter and felt a flash of pain from a tear dropping onto an open wound on his arm. He bit back a yelp of pain and a horrible idea came to him. He reached for a razor in the cabinet.

Maybe there was something he could control.

~

Craig Tucker liked to call himself a “good boyfriend.”

Sure, he wasn’t perfect, nobody was. He still had spats with his lover just as everyone else did. However, as they aged and matured, those spats stopped being physical very quickly as they aged and by eleven they were purely verbal. 

They didn’t have them frequently either, and they didn’t last very long. 

So, as a good boyfriend would be, he was concerned when Tweek didn’t come to school. He tried texting him, then calling him to no avail. He didn’t like that, Tweek would usually tell him if he was sick, or pick up the phone when Craig called. 

“Craig, dude,” Token said, “maybe he’s asleep or something.” 

“He doesn’t sleep Token. He breathes coffee,” Craig sighed.

“Okay, maybe he left his phone somewhere,” Clyde offered. Craig nodded.

“Probably.” Craig could hear the static noise of his friends talking about girls, football, or other things he would usually be amused by.

Concerned was not something that people would normally think Craig Tucker was capable of being. Once upon a time, they were probably right. Tweek taught him how to comprehend emotions instead of pretending they didn’t exist, even if he still preferred not to express them.

Tweek brought out the best in him. Craig helped him find his center. They balanced each other out pretty well. 

Craig would be lying, however, if he said he didn’t keep secrets from Tweek. His secrets weren’t anything terrible like he murdered someone or he was cheating on Tweek, but that he had anxiety himself.

He never told Tweek because he decided early on he could deal with it himself. He was constantly worried that something would happen to Tweek or any of his other friends. With the town that they lived in and the fact that he had actually been kidnapped and dragged to Peru once, he felt those fears were justified.  

While he would never claim his anxiety was as bad or even worse than Tweek’s, it had given him his fair share of sleepless nights and long days.

Situations like this had happened a few times before and never failed to set off his anxiety.

Perhaps his friends were onto his lies, or maybe they could simply tell that this was bothering him more than he would let on, but they gave him some space.

He appreciated that.

~

Tweek sat on his bed, staring at his arm. His room was littered with lego bricks, empty coffee cups, and bandage wrappers.

While he was in general rather prone to accidentally hurting himself,  the sheer amount of fresh wounds dancing down his arms exposed what actually occurred.

He couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it, especially Craig. 

He loved Craig too much for him to have the burden of this on his shoulders. He couldn’t imagine what he would say when he found out.

If he found out.

Tweek had no intention of telling him, and he wouldn’t let him see either. 

But he couldn’t skip school forever. 

He sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger, sadness, frustration, regret, or maybe a mix of it all.

He felt lost

~

Craig inserted his copy of Tweek’s house key into the lock.

They both had a key to each other’s house, and they had for a long time. Since they began dating to be exact. They respected each other’s privacy though, and if Tweek told him to leave, he would. 

He opened the door and poked his head in. The house was dark, which didn’t really surprise him since both the matriarch and the patriarch of the family were working in the coffee shop.

“Tweek? Are you in here?” he called

The house was still, yet Craig went in anyways. He shut the door behind him and flicked on the light. There was no one downstairs, so he swiftly moved to the second floor and approached Tweek’s room. He knocked on the door gently.

“Tweek?” Craig listened for a response. He heard nothing but quiet breathing on the other side. “Tweek, is it alright if I come in?”

The boy on the other side remained silent.

“Tweek?” 

“Go away, Craig.” His voice was sad and quiet, and the promise Craig had made got lost in the wind.

“What’s wrong Tweek?” Craig couldn’t stop the worry from flowing out in his voice, even though he tried.

“I’m sick Craig. Just go away. I don’t want to see you right now.” Tweek’s voice shook as he spoke, along with small jitters and whimpers. Craig could sense something was wrong and turned the doorknob.

He gently pushed against the door and to his surprise, it didn’t open. There was a weight against the door. It wasn’t heavy, well he wasn’t heavy. Craig knew exactly who was against the door. Tweek was never heavy, not even when they were little. He had gotten scrawnier and scrawnier as they aged since sometimes his anxiety made him just not be hungry, or even scared to eat. He would also forget, or be full from drinking so much coffee even though he drank far less than he used to. 

Craig stopped pushing and heard the door quickly snap back into its place with a click. He wasn’t going to force the door open and possibly hurt Tweek, he wouldn’t risk that.

“Craig, please. Just-” he heard his voice break, “Please.” His voice broke, along with Craig’s last straw. 

He silently went back down the stairs and out the house, turning to look up at Tweek’s window. The shades were drawn and the room behind them was dark. 

Craig turned to look at the twin pines that grew next to the house. They had been there for longer than either boy had been alive, and had grown past the height of the window.

He walked over to the lush green plant and grabbed a hold of it’s lower branches, hoisting himself up. He repeated the movement multiple times until he was at the tip of the tree. The entire tip shuddered with his every breath and threatened to snap with his every movement. 

The tree leaned over slightly, allowing Craig to reach over and tap the window. It flew open and Tweek pulled open that shade.

“Craig! What the hell are you doing?”

“Hanging out. Can I come in?”

Tweek cursed under his breath and reached his hands out. Craig accepted them and jumped into the window, cutting his legs on the branches of the tree. He tumbled through the window, landing on top of Tweek with an “oof.” He felt the stinging in his leg and light wetness and realised trying to climb into a window from a pine tree was a terrible idea.

“Tweek-”

“Craig, what the fuck?” Tweek panted. “Why did you fucking do that?”

Craig looked at the blonde boy underneath him. He was skin and bones, the bags under his eyes were huge. His face was tear-stained and scratched. 

“Tweek, I know something’s wrong.” Craig pushed himself off Tweek and offered to help him up. Tweek simply stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You’re an idiot, Craig. Why don’t you ever just listen to me?”

Tweek let out a quiet sob and looked up at Craig. 

“Craig, I’m a mess. What the hell do you want from me?” Craig lowered himself down to the floor and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Tweek, I want to know what’s wrong. We have to work together through these things, remember? Beat them together, expectations, resentment, all of it.” Tweek pushed Craig’s hand off him and jumped up.

“You want to know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is the fact that no matter what I do, I have no control over my life! Something that only I should control! Me and me alone! Everyone else controls it! I never became a knight or a queen, I’m still just a pawn in someone else’s fucking game! And guess what, pawns are expendable! I’m expendable. I’m not needed. That’s what’s wrong! I’m only a fucking tool for the entire world to use.” 

Tweek waved his hands, exasperated. His voice shuddered with every word he said, tears ran down his cheeks. He twitched and whimpered every few seconds. His hands tore across his body, flying from his arms to his shirt to his hair.

Craig stepped forward and embraced him. He pulled him tight against his body and felt him tense up and wince slightly. Tweek pushed against him slightly in a poor attempt to break free of his grip, before he simply caved in and buried his face into Craig’s shoulder. 

“I-I’m just replaceable Craig. My parents didn’t have to sell me into slavery because I’m already a slave to them. They control me, Craig.” 

“What can we do about that, Tweek? There has to be something.” Craig tangled one of his hands in Tweek’s hair and had the other one rub circles into his back. His voice was not sarcastic or mocking, but gentle and genuine.

“I don’t know Craig. I’ve tried so many things, so many things. Nothing works, Craig. Nothing.”

“Let’s try something else then. Something together. You don’t have to do this alone, Tweek.” Craig lowered them down to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and Tweek in his lap. “We can run away together. Get our own house.”

“We can’t do that. Your sister needs you. She’s only thirteen.” 

“Fine. I’ll take you home with me then. You can live in my room.” Tweek shook his head.

“No, no. All these things put stress on you too. I want to deal with it myself,” he scolded. Craig sighed.

“I won’t let you do that. The whole point of a relationship is to deal with things together. If I can’t help you directly, then I want to be able to at least support you.”

“Where were you when I needed you? Why aren’t you ever here when I need you?” Tweek pushed himself out of Craig’s grip and stood up. “Why the fuck does everything go the shit when I’m not with you?” He shouted.

“What do you mean Tweek?” Craig slowly stood up and put his hands into his pockets.

“I mean why am I even more of a fucking mess without you?” Tweek’s hands flew up to his hair, causing his sleeves to slip down. 

Craig didn’t miss the small movement, he had become very perceptive since they had started dating. He noticed the red lines and scabs weaving down his arms. He reached his hand over to intertwine their fingers and grab his attention.

“Tweek, what happened to your arms?”

“Huh?” Tweek looked down to the subject of Craig’s curiosity. When he realised what it was he attempted to pull himself out of Craig’s grip. “It’s nothing! I just fell!” 

Craig’s grip strengthened just enough to keep a hold on Tweek but not enough to hurt him.

“Tweek, those weren’t from a fall.” Craig locked his own green eyes with Tweek’s blue ones. “Tell me the truth, Tweek. What are they from.” 

“What the fuck do you think they are from? You aren’t dumb,” he snapped. Craig lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Tweek. He pressed his full weight into him. For the first time in perhaps ever, he had no control over himself.

They toppled backwards onto Tweek’s bed. Craig manoeuvred them so they weren’t at risk of falling off the bed and rested his head so his ear was directly above Tweek’s heart.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What were you thinking?” Craig’s voice was different. It wasn’t monotone or bland, it was raw and emotional and occasionally breaking. “Why would you do that?”

“I was in control. I knew what I was doing. Nobody was in charge of me.”

“Yeah, well, you could have fucking died! Those could have gotten infected. They could have gone too deep and cut a vein! Is a brief relief really worth that risk?” Craig let out a quiet sob and gripped Tweek’s shirt.

Everything hit Tweek suddenly. He wiggled out from under Craig to lay beside him instead. He placed his hands on his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Hey, hey, I know it was stupid, okay? I’m not going to do it again.” Tweek whispered.

“You better not,” Craig muttered.

“And if I’m feeling like shit,” Tweek continued, “I’ll call you or text you to come over.”

“Or you can come over to my place,” Craig countered.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Craig rolled Tweek over and pulled him against his body. He moved his arms from his shirt to his waist and pulled him down so he could rest his chin on his head.

“Well, I’m tired,” he yawned. “Text my mom and tell her I’m staying here tonight.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Tweek asked.

“Well, because I’m about to take a nap.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yep.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tweek said, “I have stuff I need to do.”

“Not anymore you don’t” Craig grumbled. “All you need to do is stay right here. I’m not moving until it’s time for school.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Well, we’ll have a terrible marriage then.”

There's gonna be a part two the angst isn't over my dears

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Place To Rest

[Broadway Kids]

NOTE: Everything between Carrie and Tommy and Carrie and Sue is strictly platonic!! 

Word count: 6397

Prompt: “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

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

She is shaking.

At least she thinks she's shaking. What difference will shaking make? It won't change anything.

It doesn't matter that her knees are wobbling, it doesn't matter that she is losing her ground, it doesn't matter that she is on the floor holding her head in her hands, now, entire body shaking as she struggles to see through blurry eyes and breathe through rapidly closing lungs. None of it does, did, or ever will matter.

She doesn't even know what’s going on around her now. She can't tell, everything is blurring together and she feels like she's dying, she's finally dying and she's going to accept it, she wants to accept it, she wants to die, there's nothing else left for her here and there never will be, but She won't let her die-- She made her and She’s going to keep her in this godforsaken world as long as She wants because it’s a blessing she’s a blessing even though She hates her even though she’s cursed and cancerous and a devil’s child--

The bile itching in her throat causes her to make a disgusting sound and she continues to lose herself despite it. She is sobbing and shaking violently and she does not know where or who she is anymore and it burns, her skin burns, Mama stop it BURNS--

Tommy is standing near, watching the scene unfold, and does not understand, he cannot understand. He does not and cannot and will not ever understand, but that will not stop him and it never has before. He hasn’t seen this happen before, not like this, not so suddenly and out of nowhere, but he knew what he had to do.

He races over to her and wraps himself around her frail body, feeling her try to curl into herself, feeling her try to push herself away to writhe on the tile alone, but he does not let her, he will not let her. He's new to this whole “big brother” thing, like how she’s new to the “little sister” thing (and being cared for) but he will not allow Carrie to go through this by herself. He does not understand, but he continues on with what he feels is right, and he does not want her to push him away.

She stops struggling and cries into him. His chin resting at the top of her head as he holds her into his chest. Whispers to her to breathe with him, one...two...three-- come on, you're doing great, Carrie-- just like we’ve been practicing-- one...two..three…

Her brain stops and blanks out, and she’s scared--Are people watching? Where are they in the school? Are they still in school?--so scared, but Tommy is a sunny island in a raging sea of dark thoughts and she clung to him as she was drowning in the pitch black tide.

She tries to go along with the breathing pattern he had set for her with wet eyes and sweaty hands and slowly tries to wrap her weak arms around him as well.

She desperately wants to say thank you, so she does so in a quiet, shaking whisper (her hands are too sweaty and she can’t seem to remember how to even sign at the moment). He tells her that it's alright in a voice matching hers.

------

She is shaking.

Was shaking.

Tommy watched her shake, felt her shake, and held her while she shaked. He held her like his arms were the only things holding her together, and he’s starting to believe they very well may have been because this has happened more than once before.

Carrie was broken in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine, and he was determined to piece her back together.

He met her outside her final period class, a mythology elective (because she was a gosh dang nerd), and she looked surprised to see him standing there, smiling (she had begged Principal Morton to not call her mom and be sent home after her little episode in the hallway). She blinked at him, then looked back into the empty classroom like she was expecting one of his friends to materialize inside. Tommy laughed.

  “I’m here for you, silly.” He said. “Come on.”

Carrie hesitated, wry for his sake. She took a tiny step backwards, white-knuckling the black straps of her plain red backpack, like she thought she could disappear into the painted mural of a parthenon on the back wall of the classroom (she had once told him that’s one of the reasons why she enjoyed the class so much- she liked to sometimes doze off and pretend she was in Greece, amongst powerful gods and mythical creatures. she had said she wanted a pet griffon.)

  “Carrie,” Tommy scolded her patiently. “Come on. It’s okay, I promise.”

She hesitated again, then nodded and stepped out. She walked down the hall beside him with her shoulders hunched in, eyes to the ground. She was so on edge, so Tommy just decided to drop the bomb on the plans he had for the two of them before she could possibly get any worse (because he doubted she would get better).

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re getting such a grand escort,” Tommy said. Carrie glanced up at him with a small nod. “Well, you see, since you agreed to be my partner in that project for Mr. Stephens’s class, I thought it would be a good idea to work on it at my house!”

Carrie froze mid-step.

  “Tommy--” 

A smile twitched onto Tommy’s lips. He always grinned like a dopey idiot when Carrie used his sign name. It was a descriptive name instead of an arbitrary one; the letter T at the right side of the face to give his initial and show that he had dimples, a characteristic that Carrie thought fit him the most (although she had REALLY wanted to do a sign name that would include his trademark letterman jacket, but though that making a jacket motion with the letter T would look silly). And those dimples quickly became a noteworthy feature on him because they always appeared when the sign name was used. But then they started to fade when Carrie continued to sign to him.

  “--you know I can’t. My mother--”

  “Tell her it’s for school.” Tommy said hurriedly, cutting her off. “It’s not a lie!”

  “But she’ll get mad if she finds out I’m with a boy…”

  “Then don’t tell her. Say it was mandatory or something. Say I’m a girl! Named...uhh...what’s the female version of Tommy? Oh! Tonia!”

That got a tiny smile out of Carrie. “I think that’s the girl version of T-O-N-Y.”

  “Eh, close enough,” Tommy said. “So. Will you?”

Carrie looked up at him, fingers twitching with half-formed signs, then replied, “Okay.”

  “Yes!!” Tommy cheered. A kid staying for after-school tutoring in a nearby classroom looked up from his desk and blinked at them from the open door. “Awesome! You’re the best, Caz!”

Carrie smiled wryly. “I try.”

The two of them walk out to the furthest parking lot, down near the Ag building and barns, which was named “Africa” by the students and teachers alike because it was so far away (nobody really knew who started calling it such a thing, it’s had that name before Tommy even got into high school, but it just stuck). It was quite the trek, which was particularly rough when raining or cold out, but it beat the front parking lot, which was creatively named “Suicide” because it was “hell to get out of” (there were seven parking lots in total: Suicide, the front one for everyone to use and is always packed; Africa, student and sports parking; Madagascar, a long stretch of lot on the side of the pig barn; Turkey, Ag barn parking; Senior Hill, senior only parking; The Den, teacher parking; and No-Man’s Land, a small, overgrown parking lot near the abandoned campus portables, which nobody really parked in because it was all gravel and pretty creepy). They climbed into Tommy’s black Jeep he had named Bessie when he got it. Carrie always thought it was weird that he named it.

  “Sue named her car, too!” He had argued.

  “What’s its name?” She had asked.

  “Guinevere.” He had answered.

  “That’s a girl's name.”

  “You usually give cars girl names, Caz.”

  “Oh.”

Tommy started the engine and began to pull out. Carrie was fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, eyes locked on an Ag student walking a fat white goat with a red-brown head and floppy ears around a carousel-like contraption. She worried her hands in her sleeves, then in the straps of her overalls, and then in the hem of her shirt. She looked as though she would explode if Tommy were to so much as jokingly brake check the car.

  “Not even Sue was this nervous to meet my folks,” Tommy tried to joke, noticing her anxiety and hoping to help her relax a little.

  “Were you nervous?” Carrie asked instead of commenting on the statement about her being nervous.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Tommy admitted openly. “So don’t be embarrassed if you’re shy, okay? My parents won’t give you the ‘hurt my child and I’ll kill you’ talk like I got from Sue’s dad.”

Carrie nodded and rested her hands into her lap, watching the town flash by through the windshield. She usually didn’t sign when Tommy was driving so as to not distract him, which he appreciated, but he also sort of wished she would talk to him so there wouldn’t just be these awkward gaps of silence. But at least this gave him some time to quietly observe her--which, in a way, distracted him as much as Carrie signing to him would because he kept glancing over at her.

What made her break earlier today? What happened? What was wrong?

She was looking out the window, now, so her thick brown curls were facing him. Even in the dark, stringy abyss that was her hair, he could still make out knots and tangles and a slight sheen of oil that stated she hasn’t washed it in a day or so. Then, she cocked her head slightly and a few locks shifted, revealing her tanned shoulder and neck underneath. There, he could see patches of skin much redder than the rest. There were four in total, two on her shoulder, one on the side of her neck, and one right behind her left ear, and were about the size of a dime. They were edged with ignited crimson flesh that had maws like a frozen lake of murky grease. Crags of crusted brown flesh encircled a few of the marks and-- had they been there yesterday?

Carrie turned her head and Tommy didn't look away fast enough- his gaze lingered for just a bit too long and she noticed him staring. But she didn’t say anything. Just nonchalantly swept her hair back over her shoulders until it covered up the marks again and stole a piece of mint gum from the packet in the cup holder.

Tommy doesn’t look at her for the remainder of the drive.

--

Cheery yellow marigolds and pink daffodils and purple geraniums are sprouted around the side of the grey house with healthy, well-watered grass blanketed out across the front yards. Three large oak trees, encaged in a circle of wood chips cast large shadows over the ground. Stones in various shades of brown are set into the edges of the sidewalk and stoop, and they clink against each other when Carrie’s foot accidentally slipped into the rockbed. She leapt back and looked as though they were actually the last eggs of an extinct species of bird and she had just squashed them, ruining any chance of resurgence in the population. But they weren’t eggs, they were just rocks, and Tommy reminded her of this gently, also mentioning that he stepped on them all the time. It doesn’t really make her feel any better because “he lived there” so he was “allowed to stomp on whatever he wanted”, while she was “a guest” and shouldn’t “go around ruining everything”. Tommy realized that he wasn’t going to win this particular argument, so he let it go and stepped inside.

  “I’m home!” He called into the house. 

He walked through the front room and into the living room. His mother turned from where she was preparing dinner in the kitchen and smiled at both him and Carrie.

  “Hello, sweetie,” She called back. “How was school?” She stepped away from the stove, washed her hands, then walked over to formally greet her son and the new guest.

  “It was good.” Tommy said, putting his backpack on the back of one of the dining table chairs, then motioned for Carrie to do the same. “Mom, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is my mom.”

  “Hello, dear,” His mother said kindly.

Carrie gave a polite smile and wave. Her hands were still fidgeting with her sleeve and Tommy couldn’t tell if she was still chewing the piece of gum she had taken from his car or if she had swallowed it. Her eyes were darting around everywhere, and not just to examine his house. She was looking for something very specific.

  “Oh!” Tommy’s mother raised her hands and began to form gestures with them. “How are you?”

Carrie’s eyes went wide- like, so-wide-Tommy-worried-they-may-just-pop-out-of-her-sockets kind of wide. Her head whipped from the woman before her, then to Tommy, and then back to the woman, and she began to jitter happily. She soon got the most wonderful expression of bliss, anxiety, and triumph that Tommy had ever seen.

  “You can SIGN?” She exclaimed.

Tommy’s mother laughed. “I took classes in college. Who do you think taught Tommy outside of school?”

  “Tommy you didn’t tell me your mom could SIGN!!” Carrie exclaimed again, but this time to Tommy. She had a broad smile absolutely glowing on her face and was shaking Tommy’s arm, as if this was the most delightful thing that has ever happened to her (which was a little RUDE because meeting Tommy should have been in that spot!!).

  “Surprise!” Tommy beamed at her.

  “Tommy!!!!” Carrie released one hand from shaking Tommy to sign his sign name. “This is so cool!!!!”

  “More comfortable, I hope?” Tommy said.

  “A little,” Carrie said. She let go of Tommy and smiled up at him bashfully. 

  “Good.” Tommy said, this time audibly. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and start to work!”

They excused themselves and walked up the staircase to Tommy’s room, which was decked out in as much sport’s decorations as Carrie was expecting by the big teasing grin on her face.

  “Not a peep.” Tommy warned.

  “Good thing I’m mute.” Carrie replied. She looked around the room. “This is the first time I’ve been to a friend’s house. I don’t know why I expected it to be like mine.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised with that first comment. “What’s your room like?” He asked.

  “Dull,” Carrie signed, and stuck her tongue out a little in distaste to enunciate the horribleness of her own bedroom. “Empty. Boring. I don’t even have pillows anymore.”

Tommy did a double take. “Wait- are you serious?”

  “I’m not allowed to lie,” Carrie said, then sighed. “Completely serious.”

  “Are pillows, like, against Christianity or something?” Tommy said. “I don’t remember that in the Bible. Although I’ve never read it, so…”

Carrie giggled. “You goof.” She said. “But no, it has nothing to do with religion. My mom just doesn’t trust me very much.”

  “What does she think you’ll hide under there? Some playboys?” Tommy laughed.

Carrie blinked at him in innocent curiosity. “What are those?”

Tommy stopped laughing. He cleared his throat a bit too awkwardly. “Nothing, Caz, don’t worry about it,” He ruffled the top of her hair and then glided past her over to his desk. He pulled out a dark blue pen and a mostly-blank notebook from one of the drawers. “So, what do you think our story should be about?”

  “Why does everyone think they can keep hiding things from me?” Carrie pressed on instead of giving him any ideas. “What is it? P-L-A-Y-B-O-Y-S.” She had to fingerspell it, which meant she didn’t know the sign for it, if it even had one, and that meant she really didn’t know what it was. 

  “You’re too little.” Tommy said.

  “I’m not little!!” Carrie cried, and the rapid, furious formations of her hands practically equated to her yelling with her voice. As if to prove her point, she stood up straight, puffed out her chest, lifted her head regally, and looked about as grown up as a newborn sugar glider.

  “See? Little.” Tommy grinned at her and she pouted. He patted her head again, then sat down on his bed. “Now, back to the project.”

  “I’ll find out what it is later myself…” Carrie signed grumpily to herself.

  “Caz, honey? I can see you signing.” Tommy said. “Maybe don’t sign-mumble around someone who knows ASL.”

Carrie stuck her tongue out at him, then plopped herself down beside him on the bed. She peered down at the notebook he was holding and then up at him. “What do YOU think it should be about?”

  “I asked you first,” Tommy said, poking her in the stomach with his pen. She squirmed away with a giggle.

  “Well--” Carrie fumbled, clearly shy. “I don’t know--”

  “Spit it out.” Tommy encouraged.

  “I’m mute.” Carrie signed again, like earlier, but this time it was her turn to poke him with a finger that had its nail chewed down to the painful quick.

  “Sign it out.” Tommy corrected. “Come on. I know you got some good ideas in that head of yours.”

She really did. Tommy remembered how Mr. Stephens once had them draw three cards with emojis on them out of a bucket and write a story with aspects of each one. Sue had gotten a file, a girl, and a heart with an arrow through it, so she threw together a cheesy, but cute story about Cupid putting the main character’s love letter into a file that belonged to the love interest, which ended up getting them together. Chris got a globe, nails being painted, and a van, and her story ended up being Gordon Ramsy travelling around the world brutally judging and shaming nail salons on how they paint nails. He, personally, had gotten a rain cloud, a hand, and a blue heart, and after fumbling for a short while, he managed to put together a story about two star-crossed lovers coming together at a heart-shaped pond during a rainstorm, which definitely had hand holding somewhere in there. Not his best work in his opinion. But Carrie had gotten a sound effect symbol, a key, and a chair, and the outcome was a story about a man being held hostage in a room filled with high frequency, ear-splitting noises that would eventually cause all his organs to implode unless he unlocked himself and hit the off button...but the key was surgically embedded in one of his ears, which he had to scratch out and yank on to get out. It was chillingly well-written and had so much detail that Tommy and Mr. Stephens alike momentarily worried that she had gone through some type of ear trauma to the same degree. But she had merely laughed when this concern was brought up.

  “Well?”

  “What if we did horror?”

  “Horror?”

  “Yeah!” Carrie was unraveling from her shell a little bit more, letting her ideas fall from her fingers as she formed the story in her hands. “Like-- what if it was about this person who usually works a shift that has them away from home a lot of the time when everyone else is. The night shift, I think? Sorry, I don’t know jobs. Anyway, their shift gets changed to the day shift and they stop being nocturnal. The next morning after this change, they see their neighbor smiling at them from the front porch when they step out to get the mail. They think nothing of it, but then it keeps happening. The neighbor is always smiling from the porch. And then it’s revealed that the actual neighbor is a woman and she was murdered and her body is rotting in the house and the smiling guy was the killer and the protagonist didn’t know that because they were always working the night shift and never met their neighbors!!” She finished with a radiant smile and expectant eyes. Her expression practically screamed, Praise me! Praise me! Tell me how smart I am! How creative I am! How good I am! Please, please do it!

  “Aren’t you a little Edgar Allen Poe in training?” Tommy teased, ruffling her hair. “That’s an awesome idea!”

Carrie blushed, shy again. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if we did it?”

  “Not at all!” Tommy said. “Let’s do it!”

And so, they began to storyboard and then draft, bouncing dialogue options off of each other and taking turns writing, their drastically different penmanship (Tommy’s was surprisingly more curved and pristine, while Carrie’s was blocky and had sharp edges like ancient text in a prehistoric scroll) a glistening, inky contrast on the pages.

It was currently Carrie’s turn to write and she was fervently scrawling intense detail about the false-neighbor’s impossibly wide smile on the page. Tommy studied her, watching her wordlessly murmur back the things she wrote to herself before continuing on quickly like she thought she had a time limit on what she was allowed to write in one day. She was very focused, but at least calmer than she was earlier. Still, the curiosity was eating away at Tommy- he desperately wanted to know what had set her off at school.

  “Can I brush your hair?”

Carrie looked up in an instant and instinctively touched her hair. The natural brown curls were coiled awkwardly at the tips, individual strands sticking out in places, and it had lost its softness, suggesting that it was in desperate need of a good washing and brushing. She blushed slightly, thinking that Tommy must have thought it was gross or messy.

  “I do it all the time for Sue, believe it or not,” Tommy went on, trying to seem harmless in his request, which he was, but Carrie had more walls up than anyone he had ever met before. He just wanted to help her relax a little more, and maybe even open up to him because Sue liked to share things when she got her hair brushed. Carrie may, too.

Carrie hesitated longer. Truthfully, she trusted Tommy, she really did, perhaps more than she ever trusted anyone, aside from Miss Gardener- not that there was much competition in that regard, granted. Tommy, she knew, she /hoped/, was a good guy. Even before they became friends, he had never done anything to hurt her or betray her trust, instead just staying out of the bullying or even sometimes dispersing it and unknowingly saving her in some cases. That trustworthiness and safety he provided, constantly, was undeniable and reassuring. She appreciated it greatly.

But on the other hand, she had never felt comfortable letting people touch her. Okay, well, that was a lie. She was extremely touch starved. She was more wary of new touch, because, in her experience, it could only bring pain in the long run. Letting people get close, generally, was something she avoided on an instinctual level, not that anyone ever really tried to get close to her before freshman year. Pushing everyone away had become her brand. Only recently did she start breaking that habit, letting Tommy work her out of her shell, but it was still a long, slow process. Becoming friends with him, despite everyone he’s close to at school, was not a choice that came easily, and perhaps, in hindsight, it was made too quickly for her comfort. There was no going back now, though. Maybe in an odd way, that was what she needed. An environment that made getting close to someone a must.

Glancing at Tommy with a thoughtful look, she fiddled with one of her curls, which felt stringy and rough when she wrapped it around her finger. If there was a person she could trust with it, it would surely have to be Tommy. The choice was obvious.

  “Sure,” She signed to him. She wrinkled her nose at his goofy smile. “You jellyfish.”

  “Ow! I’m hurt!” Tommy cried dramatically. “Me? A jellyfish? How could you say such a thing?!”

Carrie giggled. 

  “I’m going to go grab a brush.”

Tommy whisked out of the bedroom, but returned moments later with a blue brush in his hands. It was worlds away from Carrie’s wooden, black-bristled one.

Tommy sat back down on the bed and Carrie turned her back to him, letting him have full view of her dark brown mane. Closing her eyes, Carrie took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't anything she should have been nervous over and yet...it felt almost like a test of trust for them. A trust fall that could make or break all her progress with Tommy.

  “I’m going to start now, okay?” Tommy told her. She appreciated the hesitation and patience more than she’d ever like to admit.

  “Go ahead,” She signed, straightening her back. “Be gentle, please? I know my hair may be a bit knotty right now, but try not to pull…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” Tommy assured her. After a moment, he started running his fingers through Carrie’s hair, slowly and gently. It was smart, he congratulated himself for. It was going to be easier to find and get rid of any knots this way.

Carrie was starting to relax; he could feel the muscles in her upper back lose some tension and her shoulder blades stopped being stiff, featherless wings poised beneath her skin. So far, she wasn't getting hurt, and the touch was surprisingly pleasant. Tommy really did know what he was doing.

  “You do this with Sue?”

Tommy had to peek over her shoulder to see the signs, but managed to make out what she said without asking her to repeat herself. “Yup!” He confirmed proudly. “I’m really good at it too, huh? I am an expert at all the styles! The cheerleaders and dance team should higher me to french braid their hair.”

Carrie giggled at that mental image. And then--

  “Ow!!”

Tommy froze. He had accidentally pulled on a knot too hard and Carrie shouted, verbally shouted, and recoiled in pain. He pulled his hands back instantly as she leaned forward, breathing heavily in a way that suggested that the hair pulling had given her more than just a shock of discomfort. Her eyes wide open from astonishment, her hands shaking.

It’s been a while since anybody pulled her hair, but she remembered the pain and humiliation clearly. After all, it was a constant for most of her life, and was far from the worst thing she had experienced, but even so, it was not pleasant to be reminded of that.

  “Caz? Carrie? Are you okay?” Tommy asked, worry thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

Carrie took a deep breath and leaned back slowly. She nodded. 

  “Yes,” She signed with hands that were still shaking slightly. “I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tommy said guilty.

  “It’s okay,” She signed. “It happens sometimes.” She wasn’t as relaxed as she was at the start, but pulled herself together pretty well regardless. After a short moment of hesitation, she felt the brush on her hair again, gently stroking down. Slowly and carefully at first, growing more steady overtime as her hair was getting smoother.

  “Caz?”

  “Hmm?” Carrie hummed. Her eyes were closed in contentment. Wonderful tingles and sparks were crackling through her scalp with every stroke of the brush. She had forgotten how nice it felt to get her hair played with. She could fall asleep to this feeling…

  “What happened earlier today? At school?” There’s worry in Tommy’s voice. The topic alarmed Carrie, and she tried to shake herself back into awareness, but her hair being brushed just felt so nice…

  “Nothing,” She signed with lazy flicks of her hands. “Just something dumb that happened with my mom. It was on my mind for a while. And then I heard something that reminded me of it and I just kind--snapped--I guess.”

Tommy frowned. At the same moment as she said that, he swept her hair to the side and saw those marks again. Up close, he could make out that they were definitely scabs of some sorts. He thought they may be burns by the pale, pus-like glaze over the expanse of each blemish. Burns from a cooking class at school, maybe? The grease they use did sometimes fly. But the marks looked way too big to be grease burns and Carrie didn’t have any cooking electives. So what were they? What had happened to her?

Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask. Ask. Don’t ask.

This replayed in Tommy’s head over and over again as he combed Carrie’s hair into one big mass in his left hand. He set the brush aside and began to part the hair into three portions, feeling Carrie lurch slightly.

  “Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.” Tommy shushed her gently.

Carrie relaxed again. He even felt her lean her head back into his hands and breathe out the softest sign of contentment.

With a wrench of his heart, he wondered when the last time she was ever treated with such gentleness was.

  “Do you…” Tommy exhales, unsure if his next words are going to be the right ones. The curiosity is killing him. “Do you, I don’t know, wanna talk about it? It’s cool if you don’t, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.” He dragged his fingers through one of the three groups of hair. “I know it helps for some people, getting everything out. Sue will, like, make these bracelets with beads that have letters on them and she’ll spell out what’s bothering her. Then she will cut it up or burn it or do something and that’s how she’ll get over, or at least cope, with something. If that makes sense.”

  “No, no, it does.” Carrie signed. “That’s really cool, actually. Good for her.” Pause. She fumbled with her hands. “I just-- I don’t think talking is gonna help right now. I’m already thinking about things too much. Don’t really want to fuel the fire.” Another pause. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay!” Tommy said hurriedly. “I understand!”

There’s a beat of silence. Carrie is leaning into his hands again and making tiny cooing noises.

  “You’re enjoying this, huh?” He chuckled.

  “Mhm…” Carrie nodded sleepily. He wondered how well she slept at night, especially without a pillow.

  “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep,” Tommy said.

That seemed to jar Carrie slightly.

  “Mmm--” She tried to sit up and shake herself awake, but it was obvious she was quite tired. Her breakdown at school probably took a lot out of her, and then to continue school activities afterward-- Tommy would be exhausted if he were her. And it seemed that she really was.

  “No, hey--” Tommy grabbed her shoulder, but let go instantly when she flinched. “It’s okay, Caz. You can take a nap if you want.”

Carrie blushed. “N-no, that’s-- That’ll be weird. I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No.”

  “When did you last sleep?” 

It took Carrie by surprise. Tommy finished the loose braid and she turned to him quickly after, blinking tired eyes at him. She definitely didn’t get a good rest last night, if she got any at all.

He wondered if it was from the strange marks on her neck and shoulder.

  “A day ago?” Carrie admitted.

  “Carrie…” Tommy sighed. “That’s not good for you, you know. You need sleep.”

  “I know,” Carrie ruffled. “I just--” Her fluttering hands snapped into tightly clenched fists when the sound of the doorbell resonated through the house. Tommy looked up and could faintly hear his mom greeting someone, then footsteps ascending the staircase.

  “This conversation isn’t over.” He told Carrie sternly, then got up to go into the hallway and see who it was coming up. “Oh! Sue!”

After the initial greetings and a kiss hello, the couple walked back into Tommy’s bedroom. Sue seemed surprised to see Carrie sitting on the bed.

  “Oh, Carrie,” She said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Hi, Sue,” Carrie signed. Her eyes are half lidded, now, and even the simple signing of a greeting is sloppy.

  “We were working on the project for Mr. Stephens,” Tommy informed his girlfriend.

  “Ah,” Sue nodded. She peered at Carrie, who had her head slouched ever so slightly. “You look tired.”

  “She hasn’t slept for a day,” Tommy told her worriedly.

  “I don’t need sleep.” Carrie declared stubbornly. She has her head lifted and eyes open completely, but it seemed uncomfortable for her to do so.

  “I can’t understand you,” Sue said, “but from that look you have I’m assuming you think you could stay awake forever if you wanted to.” She tilted her head at Carrie with a warm smile. “It doesn’t work like that, you know. You need sleep, sweetie.”

That made Carrie falter. Her jaw fell open and she blinked at Sue’s soft expression, then closed her mouth and blushed faintly. She glared grumpily at Tommy.

  “Why is she so nice?” She signed angrily.

Tommy laughed and wrapped an arm around Sue’s shoulder. “Because she’s amazing!”

  “What?” Sue asked, looking up at him. “What did she say?”

  “She asked why you’re so nice,” Tommy told her. “Which is very true. Also you REALLY need to take ASL!”

  “I already have my language credits,” Sue said.

  “Well, so do I, but I’m still taking the class!”

  “I have no room in my schedule.”

  “Then get rid of something! You don’t need that medical class, right? You’re already smart!”

Sue laughed. “Yes, but probably not smart enough to-- Oh! Carrie!”

The little freshman was nodding off, tipping off of the bed, and would have smacked her face against the hardwood floor if Sue hadn’t cried out. She jolted backwards, eyes wide with fright, and Tommy immediately went over to her side, quickly followed by Sue.

  “Carrie,” Tommy said, “you need to rest. You’re /tired/.”

  “No.” Carrie signed stubbornly, although her eyes were barely open. Just a day without sleeping seemed to wring her dry, but, then again, she didn’t exactly have a great metabolism, or much energy to burn with how small she was. It’s no surprise that she got tired so easily, but added with the weight of her breakdown and not being able to properly recover from that because of classes--she must have felt like she’s been awake for weeks.

But there was something else, too. Her avoidance towards rest seemed to be more long-running than her just thinking it was impolite to do so at someone else’s house because she looked up at Tommy, her dull eyes glazed with fatigue and fear, and signed, “Please, Tommy. Don’t make me sleep.”

It was heartbreaking. The way she looked at him dug barbed claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out. He couldn’t possibly force her to do something she didn’t want to now, but…

  “I’m sorry, Carrie.” He said. “You need to rest.”

He swore he saw betrayal flicker in Carrie’s eyes and the barbed claws tore back into the open wound in his chest. He bit his tongue to keep himself from revoking his statement, which was a struggle because he really, REALLY wanted to now.

Carrie turned her head to Sue, her gaze helpless as she began to sway slightly. Her hands were clenching open and close as if she thought she could claw herself back to wakefulness.

  “Sue,” She signed clumsily, desperately. “Don’t let me sleep. My Mama-- I have to-- prayers-- have to go home-- gonna die-- nightmares--”

Sue steadied Carrie. The younger girl whimpered, desperation shining in her dark eyes. Sue looked at her with great care.

  “It’s going to be okay, Carrie.” She murmured to her. “Just rest. You’re exhausted, sweetie. You deserve to relax. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.”

The pet name seemed to hit Carrie like a rag of chloroform to her face because she slouched over into her arms a mere second later, asleep--or unconscious. Her chest rose and fell in long, peaceful movements, and her face was as still as the couple had ever seen it. The tortured expression that seemed to be permanently etched into her features since she was a child was gone for now.

  “She’s cuddly,” Sue commented with an endeared chuckle. Even in unconsciousness, Carrie still curled into her like a kitten seeking warmth. She stroked her head, running her fingers down the laces of the braid. “Cute, too. Did you ask your mom if you could keep her?” She looked at Tommy with a teasing grin, but it fell when she saw his guilty expression. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

  “Did you see the way she looked at me?” Tommy said. He clenched his hands against his jeans. “She looked like I had stabbed her.” He swallowed thickly. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

  “Oh, darling,” Sue cooed. “You big sweetheart.” She moved one arm that was holding Carrie to take Tommy’s hand. “She’ll forgive you. I know she will. She looks up to you a lot. I don’t think she would want to lose you.”

Tommy smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

  “I learn from the best,” Sue winked at him. She looked down when Carrie stirred slightly against her, making a tiny noise before settling. “I never thought i’d be holding my boyfriend’s sleeping pet fish.”

  “Hsst.” Tommy jabbed her side. “She’s not my ‘pet fish’.”

  “If you say so!” Sue laughed. Her laughter died off, however, when she noticed the marks on Carrie’s neck and shoulder, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Oh my…”

  “Do you know what those are?” Tommy asked. “I was wondering about that but didn’t want to ask her. I thought that maybe they’re grease stains? I’ve seen that stuff fly before when cooking so they might--”

  “Tommy,” Sue breathed out in horror. “These are cigarette burns.”

[bubbleweirdo]

Alegría

Chapter: 4/?

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Summary: Javier takes Joy on a mission and they end up alone in a cabin. Words: 1455

Main relationship: Javier Escuella/OC

Other relationships: Charles Smith/OC, Arthur Morgan/OC

Characters: Van der Linde gang

The months followed one another and Joy and Tommy had found their place in the gang, just as they had learned to know their members. Tommy would help Jian to collect plants and also helped look after Jack and played with him. Sometimes he accompanied Javier to fish, after he realized the boy's interest in an old fishing rod he had found in a cart.

Joy apart from working with the horses also stood guard at the camp. She occasionally went hunting but what she really did more frequently was go with the girls to the nearest town to find information or for some pickpocketing. The only girl who never went with them was Jian, she seemed to dislike the idea too much and was content to stay sewing at camp. Mary-Beth accompanied her in her first thefts and advised her. Once she helped Joy put rouge on her lips to seduce a man and she almost fell back from how nervous she was at the feel of her gaze on her mouth.

She had just finished brushing and braiding Berry's tail -she thought it gave her a touch that went well with the mare's personality- when Javier approached her.

"I have already given you what I owe you." She said suspecting, to which he replied with a laugh. It had become a habit between them to bet five dollars for anything and they had reached a point where they were passing the same bill all the time.

“I'm not here for that. I wanted to suggest you come with Sean, Bill and me to steal a stagecoach. Jenny is busy and we need a damsel in distress.”

“Okay, sounds good. What’s the plan?”

“You pretend to be hurt along the way and when they stop to help you we show up and threaten them to give us the money.”

“Consider it done. I’ll get dressed.” She walked away to her tent and prepared the clothes to change.

 The four rode together to the point where the stagecoach was to pass. Joy moved to the side of the road and the boys went into hiding, taking Berry with them.

“Good luck Joy. If any of those men try to seduce you, tell them that your heart already belongs to Sean MacGuire.” said the above winking at her before leaving. Joy rolled her eyes although the comment amused her. Sean was like that, he tried to flirt with all the girls but in the end he was more harmless than anything else. The first few times he did that she felt awkward but soon realized that he wasn't really serious about it. Although she had a suspicion that if the case arose, he wouldn’t refuse either.

The stagecoach appeared as planned and she stepped out on the road for help. As soon as she saw the boys appear from behind to surround them, she discreetly pulled out her revolver.

“Please! Could you… give me all your money?” she said aiming at them. Bill got into the stagecoach and started searching. Everything was going well until suddenly several riders appeared from behind and started shooting at them.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Sean shooting them back. Bill kept what he could get in his satchel and Javier whistled calling the horses. They all quickly mounted theirs and fled.

“Let’s split up!” Shouted Bill when a bullet threw his hat away. They all agreed and Joy soon lost sight of him and Sean. Although they had gained ground and many of their pursuers had gone after their companions, she and Javier still had a couple of them behind. Luckily they lost them for a moment and found an abandoned cabin, after shooing their horses away they went inside.

It was late. The sun was setting and it was better not to tempt luck by going out.

“We should spend the night here. When it’s dawn we will return to the camp but in the meantime we should take turns to stand guard by the window.” Javier said. Joy tugged on her skirt to position it better, uncomfortable. She had become too used to wearing pants.

“Okay. But you start.” She smiled and got up. Javier huffed and moved to the side of the window as she began to inspect the cabin. It seemed like it had been abandoned for a long time, the dust covered everything. It wasn’t very large, but  consisted of a small room in which the bedroom was located. She went in and opened the drawer of the nightstand and what she discovered filled her with joy. She took the objects and ran to the door of the room.

“Looks like they left behind some jewelry!” She looked up at him, wiggling her eyebrows as she showed him a necklace and a pair of earrings that seemed quite expensive.

“I'm glad. At least that will fix the stagecoach mess.”

“It wasn't that disastrous, we got money just the same.”

“Yeah, but we almost died for, what? A hundred dollars? My intel said there would be at least five hundred.” He sighed.

“…You’re right then.” She admitted. She put the jewelry in her satchel and continued to examine the house. Javier's stomach growled and Joy gave him an amused look. “Are you hungry?”

He shifted somewhat embarrassed in his seat before nodding. She pulled two cans of peaches out of her bag and handed him one. He accepted it and lifted it up a bit in thanks. Joy replied with a smile and watched as he opened the can with one of his knives. His hands had small scars and some recent scratches, but still retained elegance.

“I’m curious, how long have you been in the gang and how did you end up in it?” She asked before shoving a slice into her mouth.

“About three years. Dutch and I ran into each other trying to steal some chickens. We laughed and he gave me a place in the gang. The chickens we have? We brought them.”

“Can’t be. Really?” Joy laughed. “What were you doing stealing chickens?”

“When I got here I didn't know any English. I was starving and nobody cared. So I ended up trying to steal to survive.”

“If you were so bad here, why did you leave Mexico?” She pointed out curiously. He snorted.

“I killed a man. An important one. If I had stayed they would have killed everyone I love.”

Joy was speechless and Javier returned his attention to the landscape behind the window.

“Why did you do something like that…?” She whispered, overwhelmed. He gave her a bitter smile.

“Because of a woman.” She opened her mouth, surprised, but said nothing. “The reason wasn’t only that, but yes, she played an important part.” He paused, but it lengthened into an uncomfortable silence. Joy could see how he searched for the words trying to add something.

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable...”

“No… I think I should let it out…” He sighed. “We were lovers and I was crazy for her. But in the end she chose. And she chose him. I thought she loved me but I was wrong, and I got angry. She chose a military man from the government, un bastardo corrupto. But what hurt the most is that he hit her. He treated her like garbage. I didn’t understand why. I still don’t understand why…” He tightened his hand around the can and swallowed hard. It was then that Joy realized he was holding back the urge to cry. Gingerly she got up and sat next to him, clumsily putting her hand over his. “I guess I’m not done getting over it. I have spent nights with other girls but... Sometimes I think that I will never love anyone like her.”

She sighed. She felt a little identified with what he felt.

“I may not understand half of what you feel but... I do am afraid of being with a person. It’s not the same, I have never been in love... But I have been hopeful. And I understand the fear of being used, of not being enough. And I want to believe that everything will come. But first you have to heal.” She gave him a soft smile and he swallowed again. He snorted and smiled back.

“Thanks Joy. I’m sorry I let go of all this.”

She laughed.

“I was the one who asked.”

At dawn they returned to camp as planned. Joy was happy, she felt closer to Javier after this and she liked having a new friend. Not that they weren't friends before, but for her, such an intimate conversation had been the confirmation she needed.

[slaughtergutz]

I NEED to know more abt the dear Vigo boi and spiky goth Aquarius. May or may mot have a crush on both of them ; w ;

TIME FOR SOME PARAGRAPHS [tw: child abuse, cult mention, death; ask to tag for other things that i might miss]

ALRIGHT SO Virgo boy is Judas Punch. He usually just goes by Jude.

Born in 1970 to a well-off family in Los Angeles, Jude’s older sister, Michelle, was secretly a huge Manson groupie. After a particularly intense LSD trip while listening to The White Album,  the song Hey Jude came up and she took it as a sign. As he began to grow older, she started grooming him for her vision of Helter Skelter, to carry on Manson’s work. 

November 16, 1978 was scheduled for Manson’s parole hearing, and that, she believed, would be the perfect time to send a message. 

Jude, in the meantime, has been a worry for his family. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t like eye contact. He moves very strangely--born with hypermobility, he bends very easily and comfortably, and this worries his mother. He’s had three exorcisms, none of which seemed to have helped any. That doesn’t even cover what sort of things his sister has been having him do. His twin brother doesn’t seem to have half of the problems he does and is much more well adjusted.

But he’s smart, and learns quickly. What Michelle does, it makes him feel bad, and he doesn’t want to do what she’s making him do. For tomorrow, she explains, when she tells him to, he needs to give this knife to their neighbors, right in their belly as hard as he can. But he knows that won’t feel good, because his back and forehead still hurt where it kissed him. He doesn’t like being bossed around, and he doesn’t like her. 

So the night before the hearing, Jude kills his sister. It seemed to be the right thing to do, why didn’t anybody else understand that? 

Jude spends the next five years in a mental institution, receiving no real help and no support from his family. Eventually he is shipped off to the east coast, to a small town called Pockmark. Unsuspecting though it may look, they boast one of the best institutions in the country, specializing in music therapy. 

There, Jude is finally able to open up and takes up various instruments quickly. They help him organize his thoughts and keep his hands busy.  And eventually, there, he meets an obnoxious punk rocker named Sisco who won’t stop asking him to join his band. Jude’s therapist says it might help his social skills. Whatever. Jude doesn’t really care, but relents as it gives him a chance to challenge himself musically.  He still can’t stand listening to the Beatles.  Other tidbits: He’s in the closet because he’s seen the sort of trauma Sisco has gone through and he doesn’t want to go through that himself. He’s also clairvoyant and sees white crows nearby people who are about to die, and can otherwise speak to the dead. Nobody ever believed him, of course, so he doesn’t talk about it. Corinne’s the only one that really believes him. He can seem airheaded sometimes because he often experiences missing time.  --------------------------------------------- AND AQUARIUS, that would be Xenon. Born 1952 as Adam [Redacted], he had medical complications from early on. Albinism was the most apparent but due to developing alopecia, he was completely hairless by the age of 10, which also affected his immune system. Xen was in and out of hospitals from various illnesses through most of his life, in addition to be very serious and introverted, left him with few friends. He bonded closest with other black sheep, his best friends being beatniks and those in the freak scene. 

He was only in the sixth grade for a week before falling horribly sick once again, and was stuck in the hospital for the rest of the year. Two of his classmates, however, would visit him daily. They were outcasts too. Dmitri, Beatrice, and Adam were inseparable. 

They didn’t bother to wait for graduation to pack up and run away to New York City. It may not have been any more accepting of them than other places, but they had ways of getting work, and it was much more exciting than a small town. And more dangerous. Especially for three young queer kids. 

On June 28th, 1969, a police raid on Stonewall Inn turned into a riot. All three of them spent the night in jail. 

After that, Adam and Dmitri became less hidden about their relationship. Beat got in the most trouble usually for being both an outspoken Black Panther supporter and an outspoken feminist lesbian. But the two men stood behind her every step of the way. 

Dmitri eventually founded a wildly successful underground zine called Fantasy Planet, which showcased queer models (like Adam) and queer art and literature (with many contributions made by Beat.) In their off-time, Adam and Beat were apprenticing as a piercer and tattoo artist respectively. 

With a supportive network and community, Adam was finally able to explore parts of himself he ignored before. His gender. His sexuality. His humanity. Morals, worldviews, politics, ideas, purpose. Around this time, he began to go by Xenon, taken from the noble gas. On occasion he would publish articles and stories under this new name before using it in public. Many of the characters in his stories were alien, and used new and ungendered pronouns. It was safe to do so, in fiction. And it was safe to do so, at home, when it was just the three of them. 

Hard drugs weren’t uncommon in the scenes they frequented. They didn’t have a name for what killed Dmitri. It was pneumonia, they were told. 

Xen completely shut himself away and became solely focused on his own work. The remaining two left NYC and opened up a shop in a small town called Pockmark in PA. Dmitri’s grandmother lived there and she needed to be taken care of. She raised him. It was the least he could do. And, despite how bigoted the townsfolk could be, there was a growing market for body modification.  Their most frequent visitor was a man named Billy, and his entourage. He often visited from Crater City. There were rumors he had mob ties. Nothing Xen wasn’t familiar with. His only concern was the boy who followed him around. A young orphan they called Francis who couldn’t have been older then thirteen.  Not stepping in sooner ended up being one of his greatest regrets.  (But don’t worry, he sort of made up for it by being the only person to visit him in the hospital after the fire. He’s basically his dad now.) Other tidbits: One of Xen’s most hardcore body modifications was the removal of his nipples and genitals. He also has the majority of his body tattooed and, being a huge fan of the movie Alien, has a heavy biomechanical theme. He considers himself to exist outside of gender and being human. After Dmitri’s death, Xen and Beat became legally married--in case either died, the other would be able to get their assets. They love each other deeply but platonically. Beat frequently dates other women (though not as much in the small town), while Xen does not. If he had the words we have today he would call himself asexual and aromantic. (He was in love with Dmitri and found no reason to continue romantic exploits after his death.) While he is a father figure to Sisco especially, he also very much plays a mentor role for Jude as the two are rather similar (introverted, serious, and both contenders for being the King of Deadpan Humor.)

[brittle-bone-gabe]

Name: Zayden Sawyer March(Tozier) Face claim: Hayden Christensen

Nicknames: Zay (Losers Club), Zee (only Richie is allowed to call him that) 

Sexual Orientation: Gay

Age: 38

Height: 5′6″

Backstory: Zayden was moved into Derry, Maine when he was eleven after his parents got a divorce, so his mom packed him and their things and moved to the cheapest house Derry had to offer. He moved in after the events with Georgie, being told by his mother that he shouldn’t stay out too late until the town knew exactly what happened - but that never happened. He first meets Richie in class, instantly catching feelings for that fuckin’ trashmouth. Zayden was introduced to the Losers Club by Richie after they’ve been hanging out for awhile. He lowkey thought that Richie and Eddie were together, it made Zayden  bummed out but didn’t want to interfere so he distanced himself from Richie a bit. After the Losers Club defeated Pennywise for that first time, Zayden’s mom refused to allow him to hang out with the Losers again, saying that he’s staying out too late with no idea where he’s at. Zayden is angry about it at first, but then he bursts into tears; of course his mother is concerned, asking him what was wrong. “I just really like him,” he says through his sobs. His mom is confused: “Don’t you mean ‘her’?” He admits to his mom, the first person he ever came out to that he was gay, but didn’t get the response that he was hoping for. Instead, she refuses to let him hang out with anyone, taking him to and from school. He could only hang out with the Losers during school or when he sneaked out of the house to meet up with them. The Losers thought that Zayden didn’t want to hang out with them anymore, so they distanced themselves from him in case he wanted spaced, so that’s what started that fear of being left behind from his only group of friends. At age fourteen Zayden’s mom forced him to go to conversion therapy that he had to stay in until he was eighteen, during this time he began self harming. Of course, it didn’t work so he faked being heterosexual; bringing home girls to make his mom happy but they never worked out since he was so awkward and uncomfortable. 

Zayden started work at a up and coming computer company that was quickly rising; he works as IT, fixing and building computers along with software at home. He moved to Palo Alto, CA for work. Two years later he gets a call saying that his mom passed away from cancer. Of course he went back to Derry for the funeral, bringing back some foggy memories but he moved on.  All his family was at the funeral. Zayden brought a flask, drinking it the entire time.  A family member came up to him afterwards: “I’m sorry for your loss.” After a sip from the flask, Zayden looks them in the eyes and says: “Oh. I’m not.” After that he went back home to Palo Alto, CA, not leaving until Mike called him 27 years later about Pennywise coming back. 

                                                         -----------

After all these years Zayden still faintly remembers Richie and how much he liked him. 

Zayden was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, social anxiety, and depression at age 20.

His phone is an black iPhone 7 that’s cracked beyond repair but refuses to get a new one. 

When inherited all of his moms money after the funeral he donated it all to a charity for a LGTBQ+ cause. 

He struggles with self harm and eventually heroin and was in rehab for three months. 

When meeting up with the Losers again, Bev asked him why he stopped hanging out with them as kids. Zayden was silent, trying to think of what to say, instead he panics and blurts out: “because my mom didn’t like that I was gay and kept me from everyone.” They were silent, but then said they were sorry, that they still loved him anyways and Zayden started crying since this was the first time he was accepted. 

His hallucination was when he walked back into the town house and he thought he saw the Losers sitting around talking; when they turned to look at him they all had black eyes, stood up and left, leaving only Richie behind. Richie told him that he didn’t belong there, that nobody would love him. 

Richie in real life was the only one in the town house at the time Zayden was having the hallucinations, he goes downstairs to see him cutting himself while screaming and crying and Richie had to snap him out of it. 

Zayden’s token was a small heart locket that he had bought for Richie in the 8th grade that he had buried in the backyard of his moms house.

He was caught in the deadlights, making him act like a zombie trying to attack the Losers when they met with Pennywise the final time. 

He was devastated when Eddie died as that was one of his best friends.

Since he knew that Richie was also torn up about it and they only lived five hours apart they would often hang out a lot, to the point where Zayden basically lived with him, helping him through the grief he was going through.  

Eventually they got super drunk one night and Richie got down on one knee, holding Zayden’s hands asking if he’d move in with him. Of course he said yes. 

When he moved in lets just say that alcohol and gay feelings don’t mix well. They slept together.

When Richie finally asked Zayden out, the anxious twink kept stammering, making Richie think that he was trying to make excuses to say no but eventually he said yes. 

After three years of dating Richie decided that he wanted to propose 

Richie brought Zayden to one of his bigger shows, having him stand off the stage so he could watch him. 

“I’ve been dating the love of my life for three years...It probably feels like fifty to him since he’s dating me.” He then brings Zayden out on the stage and of course he’s panicking because people are scary. He forgets they’re there when he sees Richie drop to one knee, pulling out a ring box and asks if he would marry him. 

Zayden says yes as he cries

After the show Zayden playfully beats up Richie for making him go out on stage, but Richie’s excuse was: “it’s on live recording, baby.” 

Their wedding was surprisingly small and of course the Losers were there and they were so happy for them. 

They had two empty chairs with pictures of Stan and Eddie on them

Their honeymoon was an extended road trip state-to-state

Yes, of course Richie’s Instagram of selfies between them and candid pictures of Zayden. 

They got a lot of matching tattoos while on their honeymoon.

They live happily ever after because that’s all I want. 

[taeddybearkim]

The Hidden World // Part Seven

cr.

Genre: Hogwarts!AU, occasional angst & comedy, fluff

Pairing: Jongdae x Female Reader, ft. EXO

A/N: Well hello there, it’s been a while. I started this series with really good ideas but now I’m kind of stuck. Oh well. The end is near.

Warning: character death

Series Masterlist

***

Y/N’s Point of View

The speed at which I dashed out of the library was truly incredible. Not only did I give neither of the twins a chance to speak, but I myself barely had time to take a deep breath before I ran out of the double doors, probably pissing off multiple library users that were present at that time. I decided to stop running once I was at the bridge that separated the main grounds from the outer grounds.

Trying to catch my breath, I looked down on the river and the countless trees that were surrounding it, all tinted with the slightest touch of the morning fog.

Well, there you have it Y/N, Jongdae is your soulmate.

For the first time in my life, I was mad at my inner voice for being right. 

I don’t feel ready for this.

My grip tightened on the railing as I closed my eyes, still trying to breathe at a normal pace, and gather my scattered thoughts. Even the blackness of my closed eyes was suffocating.

I was so zoned out that I didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching. “Bad day already? It’s only 8 in the morning.”

Professor Lupin landed on my line of sight, with his neatly combed hair and charismatic coat. He looked like one of those sad characters mentioned in books had come to life, but in reality, he didn’t look that sad at all. Just melancholic.

Book character or not, Professor Lupin was someone I knew that I could trust without doubt. Despite his past and his other self being exposed to the entirety of the school, the other teachers and the students had chosen to accept him, because all the good he had done outweighed whatever trouble he had gotten himself into.

“Just... a lot on my mind, Professor.” I tried to form a smile that would mirror his, but failed miserably.

“Oh dear, I know the feeling.” He nodded with a solemn expression. “Take a walk with me, won’t you? What time does your class start?”

“I still have some time.”

“Wonderful.” He cracked another small smile, before trudging up next to me so we could walk together.

“So tell me, what is going on inside that incredibly smart brain of yours?” he spoke after we had finished crossing the bridge towards the light areas of the forest.

“I think I may have found a way to reach out to my parents, to know what they were like,” I said, without giving much detail, but it wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

“Ah yes, I think Professor Trelawney mentioned that the other day while she was looking for Professor Slughorn. I am happy for you, dear Y/N.” Another smile, before he answered the question that had formed in my mind. “I overheard her in the Teacher’s Lounge. I think she may have your ingredients ready, so I would suggest you pay her a visit later today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” I was finally able to smile again.

“That can’t be all of it now, can it? The Y/N I know wouldn’t fuss over this.” He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

“There’s... also other parts of my past that I have recently remembered. And that past includes someone that I was really close with.”

“An old relationship, I see. Is this person someone you care about?”

“A lot. In fact, he’s even my--” 

I stopped, realizing what I was about to say, and praying that Professor Lupin hadn’t caught on. To my dismay, the grin on his face told me he had.

“This person is your special someone, huh?” He winked, causing me to shift my gaze in embarrassment. I wasn’t ready for this at all.

“I see that you do not feel ready to bear this burden. But let me tell you, love is not a burden, dear Y/N.” He motioned with his arms for me to walk next to him again, as he led us down a path donned with vivid flowers and sweet trees.

“It may feel like a weird obligation at first, but nobody is telling you to jump into something that you don’t feel ready for. You have all the time in the world to make up your mind. But at the end of the day, if you and this person were truly meant for each other, you will regret not being there for them sooner.”

His gaze fell on one of the cluster of flowers as we came to a slow stop. I could tell that he was heartbroken before, too.

“I’m... so sorry, Professor, for whatever happened in your past.”

“How did you know?” His head shot back up at me, slightly surprised.

“You sounded like you were speaking from experience. I’m sorry. And also, thank you for sharing this beautiful insight. I will definitely consider it.” It was my turn to smile.

“I know you will, Y/N.” The smile on his face was back too, as we finally made it back to the bridge and started crossing it once more to the main grounds.

***

[Later that day]

Professor Trelawney was waiting for me when I walked into her class at the end of my schedule. My whole day was spent dodging any interaction with Jongdae and the rest of the boys, so I was pretty tired as I slouched onto one of her puff seats.

“There you are, Miss Y/N. Catch your breath for a bit, the potion is almost ready.” She looked up at me through her giant spectacles as she continued to mix a cauldron in front of her. I did as I was told, resting my back and my eyes before she announced that it was ready.

“Are you ready, my dear?” she asked, as she held a vial full of the potion in front of me.

No. Not at all.

“Yes. I am ready.”

***

The potion blurred my vision and shifted it into a haze. My mind raced at a million thoughts per second, before I focused on what I was specifically trying to remember.

“My parents,” I whispered to myself, and soon after, the blur faded into a clear view of a room with gray and blue walls, centered around a baby’s crib in the middle. On another bed nearby, a pale-looking woman lay on her side as she watched the baby in the crib with endless adoration and affection in her eyes. Her eyes were the same color as mine, down to the tone. She still had the small bump of having carried her baby inside for 9 months, so she must have recently given birth.

“Vera, we have to leave, quickly!”

A man burst in through the plain door, looking frantic. He had the same nose shape and hair color that I did; even his movements seemed similar to mine.

“What is it?” The woman stood up slowly, waiting for an answer.

“The town, they’ve gone wild. They’re hunting down every witch and wizard to execute them in the town square! We have to get out of here as quickly as possible!”

The woman barely had time to place her baby in a traveling basket before there were the sounds of knocks and shouting coming from another door nearby. The man and the woman shared a quick look and then, without even thinking, both of them jumped out of the open window, the woman clutching the basket close to her chest as the door to their room burst open upon the rowdiness of the mob behind it.

Both the man and the woman looked badly injured from the fall, while the baby simply watched without a single sound. It had no idea what was going on.

The couple began running at full speed, assisted by their magic, to get out of the town as quickly as possible. They managed to zoom through the mobs and entered the next town, then the next, then the one after that.

Nowhere seemed safe. All of the towns that they had passed seemed to house the same anger of the mob that they had escaped back in their temporary home. Temporary, because it seemed like they were moving around a lot, given that they had so little to pack and carry with them.

“We can’t keep running like this forever,” the man spoke, when they had finally come to rest on top of a hill. “They are catching up to us, I can feel it. We aren’t safe, no matter where we go.”

The couple shared a gaze before both of their eyes fell onto their baby, who was asleep in the basket.

“Our baby. We need to keep her out of this.” The woman choked back a sob, but her eyes were already filled with tears to the brim.

“We can take her somewhere nobody knows her, away from growing up with us and all the magic folk in town. Somewhere like...” His wandering gaze finally landed upon the building that was also located at the top of that hill. “... an orphanage.”

“But she’s not an orphan, Atticus!” The woman finally burst. “She’s our baby! She’s our daughter, Y/N!”

“I know, Vera, and she always will be. But this is for her safety.” The couple shared a sad hug and a short kiss, before they both stood up after the woman gave a small nod.

“For her future,” she whispered, and the man whispered it back.

They set the baby’s basket in front of a building that read Madam Rosemary’s Orphanage, giving her lots of kisses and hugs before the sound of a mob grew louder in the distance.

“Together?” Atticus asked, as they slowed their pace to a casual walk, still walking away from the mob but with a sense of surrender.

“Forever.” Vera replied, as they both held hands with the mob growing ever louder, closing the distance between them and the couple.

***

When my vision shifted back to normal, I was crying.

I was crying so much that my eyes felt like there were no more tears left inside, and instead I was crying out blood.

“Oh, my sweet Y/N!” I barely noticed Professor Trelawney wrapping me in a tight hug, but I returned it nonetheless, the tears showing no sign of stopping.

“Are you alright, dear? Do you need me to escort you back to the dorms?” Professor asked as she drew back a little bit.

Composing myself, at least in the slightest, I shook my head to say no.

“What did you see, dear? Would you like to talk about it?”

“They died,” was all I could mutter repeatedly. “They died to save me. They died because people were hunting them down.”

“They died to give you a better future,” Professor Trelawney held me by my arms. “And look at you now. The top student in all of her classes. A marvel of the magical world at such a young age.”

Her praises snapped me out of my endless repeat of the phrase “They died” and caused me to crack a small smile. “Thank you, Professor. You overpraise me.”

“Nonsense,” she waved. “Now get back to your dorm, and take a nice, long nap. It will help you process things. Drink a cup of tea, if that helps. Or do anything that you do to relax your mind.”

“Thanks again, Professor,” I said as I got up shakily. “I will.”

“Off you go, then. Take care of yourself, will you?”

I nodded before leaving her class with a final wave.

***

The Gryffindor Common Room was not that crowded when I arrived, not that I cared anyway, because my mind was too preoccupied with what I had learned about my parents today. I didn’t even notice bumping into someone that was standing on my route towards the Girls Dormitories.

“Y/N?”

That sweet voice, the one that I had heard a click! with just this morning.

Oh, this is absolutely fantastic.

“I’m sorry, Jongdae, I really don’t have time for this right now.” I tried to push past him but the other guys had already surrounded us, looking equally concerned.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Junmyeon tried to reach out and touch my arm, but I quickly yanked it back and pushed past Kyungsoo and Sehun to reach the stairs.

“I’m sorry. I just want to be alone,” I muttered, before climbing up the stairs without a second glance. My tears had betrayed me once again.

“Y/N, wait!” I heard Jongdae shouting out, as well as his footsteps, before they were stopped.

“Let her go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol’s deep voice filled my ears before I finally reached my room. “She said she wanted to be alone.”

None of my roommates were back yet, so I took the liberty to kneel down on the ground as my sobs finally took over. I was crying again, so much that I was shaking against the floor. I managed to pull myself up and jumped right into my bed, hoping that suffocating under my blanket would distract me from the pain in my heart.

***

A few days had passed before I finally had the courage to speak with Jongdae and the other boys. I only spoke to Jongdae first, forgetting about the fact that we had felt the click of being each other’s soulmates, and thankfully, he didn’t bring it up either. I knew I would talk with him about that later, I wasn’t planning on completely overlooking it. But for now, it had to be pushed aside.

One night, I came down to the Common Room because I was cold and wanted to sit in front of the fire. I didn’t expect Jongdae to be there, sitting on the window sill all by himself. That was when I decided to talk to him again, and I told him the story of my parents. I teared up again, but Jongdae was there to wipe them and embrace me with all of his warmth. There was something exceedingly familiar about his embrace, yet distant at the same time. His arms felt like home, even though I didn’t know what that was, but they also felt like a completely foreign yet sweet sensation. We stayed like that for a while, the heat from the fire matching the warmness we shared between each other’s arms.

“I’m sure that your parents are looking down on us and smiling from Heaven right now,” Jongdae spoke, his voice softer than the feathers of a pillow.

“You really think so?” I asked, it was a childish question really, but I was too emotional to care.

“I know for a fact that they are. They sound like they were beautiful people, Y/N, and it reflects onto their beautiful daughter.”

Jongdae’s cheeks flushed red after realizing what he had said, but he seemed too locked into my embrace to run away and hide in embarrassment.

“On the inside or the outside?” I asked, slightly wiggling my eyebrows.

“You must already be fine if you’re in the mood to be cracking these kind of jokes,” Jongdae laughed. I was definitely feeling better, now that he was beside me. “I’ll say both.”

I smiled, before speaking again. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

He looked confused. “What reason would I have to be mad at you?”

“I completely ignored you and the guys for a couple days,” I looked down in guilt. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Y/N, I’m not mad.” He tightened his arms around me. “And you don’t need to feel sorry. I’ll admit that I felt like a useless piece of garbage without you around, or being able to help you, but I know that it was because you needed to recover on your own. And here you are.” His smile shone brighter than the fire beside us. “Besides, with people like Baekhyun and Chanyeol around, it’s so easy to get caught up in completely unrelated things.” We both laughed.

“I have so many things I want to tell you,” I told him, after finally catching his gaze.

“Take all the time you need.” He smiled, glancing at one eye, then the other. “I would love to hear every single word you have to say.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than before. Jongdae was such an understanding person.

“Even if I say ‘useless piece of garbage’? That’s solid, I might use that to insult somebody.” I grinned to myself.

Jongdae caught on as well, grinning along with me. “Oh yeah? I’ll have to find something in response then.”

“I’m sure you will.” A tiny yawn came out of me as I rested my head against Jongdae’s shoulder. We stood like that for a while, feeling each other’s body heat become one.

“Go back to bed. It’s getting late.”

“What about you?” I asked, looking up to his face.

“I have a little bit of studying to do.” He nodded towards the notebooks piled near the window sill, which I hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

“You better.” Another yawn. Jongdae ruffled my hair as he helped me get back up.

“Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.” We exchanged a final wave before I started climbing up the stairs, Jongdae’s eyes on me until I was out of his sight.

***

A/N: Greetings, my dear friends. I know this chapter was shorter than the other ones but the series is truly coming to an end. Be on the lookout for the finale soon!

***

Masterlist

Asks/requests are open!

-  ~.~

[konan720]

Sgt. Frog/AHiT AU: Stranded

Description: A young recon squad of three crash land on earth after shortly arriving to the planet. Separated and lost; they look for a place to stay until they can find a way home.

(Chapter one: Mayday!)

‘Mayday! mayday! This is Recon ship Zeta! Engine failure! Requesting rescue!’

A voice played on, over and over throughout the vast void of space; the voice came from a downed ship, small for a normal sized ship of their kind. The beings that dwelled within it long since gone. The wreckage was now in the side of a large mountainous region of an island far from a major city.

In this island, stayed a quiet little town. The world they crashed on is referred to them as pekopon- living there are pekoponians;

But to the natives?

They know themselves as humans, who live on the planet earth.

Small ‘plap’ sounded off in a steady pattern, as a small being wondered though the empty streets of a neighborhood; it was raining heavily that day- Sky dark and unrelenting; though the small being didn’t seem to mind all that much.

She was more worried about being lost- and alone; scared she was, as she looked for her squad. Entering the planet was not in the plan, some unseen and unfortunate events occurred. They were only to study and give information back to the ones in charge, waiting back home-

They were to young to see any major battles yet; but they had special privileges. Asking enough times can also get you pretty far.

Finally coming to the conclusion that this small being wasn’t going to find her friends here, she sat down and started sniffling; stifled little sobs barely heard over the rain.

————

Earlier this morning, two young adults clambered around their neat two story house; they were both getting ready for today. “Moon! Get moving! We’re going to be late!” One could hear shouting from inside the house if they stand close enough “and bring an umbrella, it’s going to rain today!”

“Oh relax, bother- I’m always prepared!” A more calm tone follows after a loud one “Snatcher, what’s gotten into you today? You seem more agitated the usual.”

Identical twins stood at the entrance of their modern style doorstep. William, and Mathews- but to everyone else they grew up with;

MoonJumper and Snatcher.

“Mid terms.” Snatcher deadpanned

A simple ‘Ah’ followed after as the two walked onward to school. They had to keep moving as thy talked, it wasn’t going to wait for no one. Especially when it's college.

“And then there’s Vanessa!” He emphasized, raising his hands to the sky “she won’t stop bothering me! Even after I’ve broken up with her, she thinks we’re still dating!”

“You broken up with her; when did this happen?” MoonJumper asked

“A week ago- and boy; that wasn’t pretty..” Snatcher put a hand to his face; slightly traumatized by the display of displeasure she showed.

“I would imagine, she seems to be missing a few screws..” moon said, earning a nod from his brother.

being identical mostly twins, they had looked the same from birth, besides their eye colors, all the way to Middle school; during High school is when their styles changed-

Snatcher, bored of his brown hair, died it a dark shade of purple- a shade that looks indefinitely black at first if not looking at it with a bright light source.

MoonJumper still kept his natural brown color, but upon his face he wore glasses, his vision not as bad, but from time to time he'll use them. Mostly when he goes to school, because his seat was positioned in the far back.

The only thing that was still identical, was the fact they still have their hair at shoulder length. Fluffy, one would say, And smooth to boot.

As they left the neighborhood, and into the streets of town, they passed by many kinds of people. A sweet lady in her mid thirties waved them hello, she was a chef at- and quiet possibly, the best restaurant on the island. Owned and ran it with a few relatives.

Then there were the two men who always yelled at each other- well, one did, the other sauntered around and made sassy comeback. Apparently they were directors visiting the island for potential movie ideas- to bad they can't cooperate with each other. They could really make a good movie if one just puts their differences aside.

Then there's the mayor, the boss with his goons; there's something shady about them- but surprisingly they run the town just fine. Nobody really complains, everyone knows each other in some way. These are perks of living in a small town, on an island, far from any major excitement-

"God, this place is boring!" Snatcher suddenly yelled to himself. Earning a small chuckle from his brother.

Up ahead, you could see the college building, sitting just at the borders of the forest the led to the mountains. The mountain sat in the middle of the island, and branched off quite some ways to the northeast, creating a spiky peninsula dubbed- ship wreck isle. Their entire island, from above, comically looked like a frying pan!

"Let's hurry and get to class before Vanessa finds me.." The dark purple haired man said, a whisper as if she was already here.

"I honestly don't see what you saw in her." Moonjumper shook his head, "didn't the others say, 'stay away from her'?"

"Tell me; since when do I listen to other people's opinions?" He snapped back

"And now look where that's gotten you?" Moon raised an unimpressed brow "a crazy ex girlfriend- who by the way, has an unhealthy obsession over you. And is currently stalking you right now." He mumbled something hat last part, noticing movement out of the corner of his eye.

"What, where?!" Without needing an answer or a position, Snatcher took off; Leaving his brother behind. Shortly after, moon hears shuffling, and clapping of slippers chasing after twin. He only shook his head "we might need to call a restraining order.."

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

To some of the students class was boring, however, to Snatcher- it was going to help him with his dream of becoming lawyer. Unlike some of the students who doodle in their book, and stare out the window, he was one of the students to actually pay attention.

Him and his brother were both trying to achieve their dreams.

What a duo; a lawyer and an astronomer.

With Snatcher's noise in law, Moonjumper aimed for the skies. Hence why he'd gotten the name Moonjumper. Snatcher had received his because at any good opportunity he'd take it and take advantage of it.

As the bell rang for lunch, Snatcher took the chance to stretch out his arms as he watched every one else pack up and leave for their hangout spots. Today, he’ll be coming home alone; for some reason- Rachael; the School’s head of the florist club, has asked for his brother’s help.

Snatcher thinks there’s something going on between the two, because at how fast he had accepted the invitation- thinking back on it, he only chuckled more. Quickly looking out the window before taking his leave, he saw how fast the storm was approaching; it was looking nasty out there.

So nasty, at a point he could have sworn he saw something Strike the mountain side.

It was probably lightning.

“Time to hide for lunch again..” he mumbled to himself. It’s always hard to find a nice spot where Vanessa isn’t watching him- or breathing down his neck.

—————

Once school was over, Snatcher found himself walking down the streets as the rain pelted down on his umbrella... it was nice; peaceful.

Tap tap tap, the steps he took could be heard as he walked- but what was that-? Was that crying..? No, couldn’t have been, who would be out in this weather- at this time of evening? Snatcher paused, just to see if he was just hearing things..

But there it was, almost silent sobs; of what sounded like a child! Turning his head towards a dead end ally, he took action- hurrying over a few trash bags, and making sure he didn’t trip into old sludge, he found himself near and opening- a lamppost shined down on a slumped over figure.

It was so small.. and.. definitely not human. What.. what was it? It was purple, white, and wearing what looked like a tan top hat with flaps. It hadn’t noticed him yet, thankfully-

Should he leave? Before it sees him? It could be dangerous; it could have rabies-

As he stepped back, Snatcher accidentally stepped in a puddle, the splash makes the small head rise, and he got a more clear picture of its face. The bottom half was white, while the top part seemed to be purple. Big strange teal eyes looked back at him- and they were filed with tears. It looked like a small half tadpole that could walk like a human..

And then it spoke-

“I’m lost..” it.. she sniffed, rubbing her eyes “I don’t know where I am..”

it’s speaks English.

“You.. can talk..”

She nodded “can you help me..?” She approached him, and he backed up out of caution. “Don’t be scared pekoponian! I don’t mean any harm!..” she trailed off “I mean.. I as a single being.. the rest of my race is kinda..”

She was just rambling now, he couldn’t take his eyes off or her; Snatcher had to admit, she was cute- but what was that he was just called.. pekoponian..?

“Are you an alien..?” There’s no way something like this is native to earth, and hasn’t been discovered yet.

“I’m not supposed to answer question from a pekoponian-“ but she looked back and forth, making sure no one else was around “but.. yeah- I am!” She smiled.

The two stood there in the rain, after confirming this claim, it took awhile for the collage student to wrap his head around this. Should he just go for it? Just run? Or help her out? By the sound of it- she was the equivalent of a child; but she’s from space and alone- and let’s not forget soaking wet from the rain.

But she was an amphibious life form.. did the rain even bother her?

Snatcher closed his eyes, clinching his umbrella with his back to the alien; he could hear it start to cry again- as if feeling he was thinking about leaving.

“Please.. I’m all by myself right now- I don’t know what this planet will do to me!” She pleaded.

And that triggered thoughts to flood his head- she was an alien; is the government found out about her.. only bad things came to mind. Or what if she got road killed because she couldn’t understand crossing the road?

She probably doesn’t know much about this planet..

Taking a huge sigh, he finally caved in. Looking to the small little being, he extended his free hand. “Come on, kiddo..”

She smiled widely at the tall man, and he started walking off- keeping with his pace; the little frog followed.

“I’m Hakiki!” She smiled, “what’s your name?”

“You can call me.. Snatcher for now..” giving the small being a neutral look.

—————————-

This will be posted to Wattpad for now; Fanfiction.net, and Ao3 Soon!

[lady-celeste25]

The Immortal Detective

Chapter one:

The rough sunlight beams into my eyes like an alien beaming a cow up in one of those old Science Fiction films. One of the Good ones. I try to drag the cap on my head down, but it's no help. I did it again, dammit... I slept in my uniform. I really need to get into some sort of pajamas. The same uniform I had been requested to wear all day and night from the moment I had gotten it yesterday. 'To make sure they got the measurements correct,' or whatever. Except for the cap, that was normally placed on the head of the person sleeping in the next room.

When the alarm to get up finally rings, I don't jump. Not anymore. It's practically routine by now. I quickly sit up, push back the heavy comforter, and stumble off the bed to the mirror, kicking away some shorts and fast food containers. Sure, the thing in the mirror may be a mess, but I assure you, it's me. What you see may be a tired, tall, messy-haired child wearing a baggy police uniform. In reality, I'm a tired, tall, messy-haired child who is now a detective in training.

After 3 long years of training and practicing, I had finally graduated from being a normal police officer to being a detective. Through countless mental and physical tests, and learning how to use a gun (which I didn't want to). And it's all for the little girl in the silver picture frame on my dresser.

The little girl in the picture had small dimples, grossly cut hair, and held tightly in her hand was a book. That's my little sister, Jaiden. She's the person next door. The one that I should probably go wake up and make sure she'll be fed and ready for school. I don't bother doing anything else with myself, there's still 2 hours left before I report to the chief.

I slowly creep over to the door next to mine. The one that now had a quote and Hufflepuff decal on it. I jiggle the broken doorknob and let myself in. After stepping over a stack of books and a mound of crumpled up papers left over from what seemed like one of her late-night idea sessions. Once I find myself In front of a small steel bed,  I notice that the small lump that's normally there is no longer there. Jaiden isn't in her bed. She isn't in her bed. Panic fills my eyes and wracks through my brain.

"Jade?" I call out. "Jade? Where are you?" My eyes switch around the room. A tightening feeling goes around my lungs and practically steals the breath from them. I should've never let her sleep with the window open. What if someone took her?! Nobody would want her! "JADE!"

Calm yourself, Bevel! I say to myself. You're going to become a detective! You have the brains to find your own sister! Where would she go? Does she really not wanna live here? Or did someone take her? Gotta look for evidence. I start overturning books, tearing apart her bed, and even knocking over her lamp. This is a crime scene now! She's probably at one of her friend's houses. But, which friend?! Mya? Courtney? Myrtle? Stephanie-?

"Dakota!" A voice said from behind me. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

I jump up a little and turn to see Jaiden in her white school uniform and her hair neatly brushed out. She held two ribbons in one hand and a brush in her other. I sigh in relief.

"I didn't know where you were," I say. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Waiting for you to get up," she answers. "Also cooking breakfast. If you didn't know where I was, how are you going to be a detective?"

"What?" I grab the brush from her hand as she sits down on the ground and I sit on the bed. "But, I normally make breakfast." I also decide to completely ignore her rude question about me being a detective.

I start to brush out her hair as she makes a face that I can see from the mirror on her wall, "you don't make anything right. Somehow you even make cereal taste bad. I was perfectly fine popping in some Eggo waffles and putting syrup on them. Which, by the way, do not need any altercations like you said they needed."

"Hey, dad used to infuse all those berries and stuff," I point out as I gather half of her hair into one hand and the other half in the other hand. "Plus, even though I'm no good at cooking..." I take my hands away to reveal two perfect buns on her head, tied up with the ribbons. "I'm pretty great at doing hair."

She smiles, "Yeah, yeah... whatever." She stands up, takes the brush, and hugs me. "I gotta go. There are waffles for you in the microwave. Don't forget to take your allergy pill and make sure you don't stutter too much while talking to this new Detective."

I roll my eyes, "whatever you say, ma'am."

Jaiden beams brighter as she grabs her bulging backpack from the floor and leaves. Out her open window, I watch the yellow bus pull up and her run out to get onboard. A sigh escapes my lips.

Jaiden is eight years younger than me. She's still in Middle School as I try to work at getting a good paying job. Yet, somehow, even though I'm older she acts like I'm a three year old. True, I kind of am... but she doesn't need to point it out.

I stalk off to the dully colored, unlit kitchen. The one window had its curtains closed making it almost completely dark. I open said curtains and stare out at the view: a red brick building with graffiti on it. Great. Gotta love city life. On the small TV in the living room, the news was blaring. The woman on TV was talking all about Stock prices rising, or something. It doesn't much bother me. I grab out my waffles, sit down on the wobbly chair I'll have to fix later, and drown my waffles in syrup. Then, I take out my phone and start scrolling through some random pictures.

Over the sound of the TV, I could hear the neighbor's dog barking. A little way out, the thumping of machines fixing something in the road was barely audible but I could still hear it. I could hear lots of things I probably shouldn't. Arguments, secrets, plans. That's why I thought I would make a good detective. But, something about working in the city really deterred me from doing it. See, my family is from Indiana. Like, a really small country town in Indiana. Everyone knew each other and things were spectacular. Except when... things happened. Things that I don't like talking about... So, to make sure I made a living and Jade would be able to afford being sent to school, I moved to Cincinnati. The land of plenty mistakes and accidents.

About half-way through my waffles, I see a crumpled piece of paper across the table filled with pen marks. So, she actually finished one in the morning? I grab it and read it.

The great perhaps is that there may be life lasting beyond from where we stand now. In the idea that I'm writing about currently, I propose that maybe someone could live past their own expiration date. Maybe, someone could have seen the whole world go by but never change. Would they be sick of this? Or, maybe they would-

I snort and start laughing. Ever since... the incident... I had been encouraging Jade to write out her ideas and feelings. They were normally wild and outrageous. But, that's what you can expect from a kid with a wild imagination. She is only nine. I grab the paper, take one last bite of my waffles, and go back to my room.

I set my phone on the dresser and kneel down by my bed. From under my bed, I pull out a beaten up brown box with tape on the top. On the tape in permanent marker were the scribbles, 'words and stuff.' It was filled to the brim with small writings, all dated and signed by Jade herself. I add the new paper in. I keep telling her she should pursue a career in some sort of literature, but she's convinced herself that it will make her no money. Every time she says something like that, I bring up J.K. Rowling or Rick Riordan. She still doesn't think it's her speed. Whatever.

I throw the cap to the other side of the room and start to go through my locks of greasy hair, trying to make them stay in some sort of better position. Sure, I'm going to take a shower but I need to at least look a little decent to do that. Maybe even just  My body slowly picks itself off the floor and I put my hand on the doorknob to go into my bathroom, but a ringing sound cuts me off. 

Quickly, I grab my phone from off the desk and check the profile picture. A gruff looking man in the same police outfit (except with more medals) with his cap pulled over his eyes is shining back up at me. The contact name was 'The Chief,' and this was surely my chief. I gulp and press the accept answer. 

"Hello?" My voice cracks. Jesus... does it always have to be like this when I talk to him. 

"BEVEL!" The voice of my chief screams. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YA?! YOU'RE LATE!"

"But, chief," I say, "it's only eight."

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE BY 7:30!" The phone crackles over the power of his voice. "BE HERE IN 15, OR YOU'RE NOT GETTING THE JOB!"

I try to explain myself but the phone fuzzes off. I shove the phone in my pocket, grab my cap, and bolt out the door. My hair will just have to be greasy and my teeth grimy with waffles. Things will be fine. They'll be fine.

I get into the car and fumble around with the keys to start it. Damn, how did I get it that wrong? Hopefully, this goes right, or else it's my head... and my future...