#that megan kept getting drunk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heartbreakgrill · 1 year ago

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stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 7, “i’m drunk in the back of the car and i cried like a baby coming home from the bar. said, ‘I'm fine,’ but it wasn't true.”

a/n: sad, but gets hopeful! one more part after this, i think :)

“i’m glad i never ended up having a party at my house.”

danny fell into step beside y/n, their shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. they had to park all the way down the street from jack’s house because there were so many other people here. because it was so late at night, the air in beacon hills was cool. y/n hugged her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t worn a tank top beneath her jacket. her breath came out like a fog as she spoke.

danny made a face at the thought, “too much work. imagine the clean up.”

“yeah, no thanks,” she shivered.

the music coming from the house ahead of them got louder as they neared it. some popular radio song reverberated in their ears. y/n felt her heart beat in her throat, thumping along to the bass. danny lit up once they reached the door, excited to drink, dance.

he always was the party type. he had so much fun moving to the music, losing himself in the crowd.

on the other hand, there was y/n, who didn’t normally drink at parties. she was a go-to for being the designated driver, choosing to watch out for her friends and play with whatever animal the owner of the house had sniffing around.

tonight, however, she wanted to let loose. needed to, more so.there was nothing better after a heartbreak than getting messy-drunk at a high school party.

it had been a week. a whole week since her and stiles’ fall out. a week since she’d seen his face. sure, she saw his figure in the hallways sometimes, but she would run the other way. he’d start to chase her down, but danny was usually close by and he’d shoot stiles a glaring look. it turned him away. he’d texted her nonstop, called her about a million times. but, after the fourth day, when he realized she just wouldn’t be responding, he stopped. all lines of communication fell out. any hope of fixing what was broken was squashed out.

when y/n thought about it too much, she felt sick. nausea tumbled through her stomach. her head became fuzzy. stupid, naive girl, she’d think to herself. it’s all your fault. so, every single time her mind started to wander, she’d shove her nose into her homework, pick up a shift at work, get so high out of her mind that reality felt like a television show.

tonight, her choice of thought erasure was getting wasted at a high school party.

y/n squeezed her hand around danny’s bicep once they walked in. in response, he kept her close to his side as they wormed through jack’s house, in search of their friend group. eventually, they found leo, megan, jack, and a few others. they were in the kitchen, standing around the island counter. glasses were scattered around the house already, though the party had just started barely an hour or so ago. the group cheered when y/n and danny came through the door, holding up some of the red solo cups.

megan came to y/n’s side, her tipsy stature morphing her usually quiet attitude into something more sentimental. she clutched onto y/n’s arm. she touched y/n’s cheek and gushed over the curls swinging over her shoulders. “i loooove the hair, girl. you look so pretty with it like that. you’re always pretty, though. oh, my god, you know we haven’t hung out in forever and it makes me so sad. please, please say we’ll hang out soon.”

y/n giggled at megan’s state, wrapping a securely protective arm around megan’s waist. “i promise, okay?”

y/n was the first to admit that she’d been so caught up with boys over the last few months. she hadn’t exactly pushed away her friends, but she hadn’t prioritized them, either. she was in her head with her own issues, and didn’t make the time others. it made her feel a little guilty. but, before that feeling could snowball into the depressive heartbreak she’d been plagued with, megan continued.

“what’s new with you? what have you been up to? i hope you’re not still sad about sam. you should know you’re so much fucking better than him. you deserve so much fucking better than him. he’s such a whore. fuck him.”

“no, i’m over that,” y/n said, confidently waving megan off through a giggle. and she was telling the truth. “i’ve just been…hanging out. ya know. working.” her gaze became distant, words slow as stiles’ face flashes through her memories. y/n didn’t say what she had been really doing. it was embarrassing to admit that she’d gotten herself into another shitty situation with a guy.

though, megan squinted her eyes, analyzing her friend’s words. she knew, “oh, no. oh, no, no, no. fucking stilinksi. i fucking knew once danny told us- okay. listen- you don’t even have to say anything, kay? tonight, we’re just gonna have fun. here, jack, pour us some shots!”

y/n couldn’t help but grin in response. there wasn’t time to imagine stiles- to envision his lips ghosting the curve of her skin, to try to remember what it felt like when he’d draw out movement from her body. because, next thing she knew, megan was shoving two to three red solo shot cups into y/n’s hand- all in a row. and y/n didn’t let herself hesitate. she swallowed them easily, ignoring the burn in her throat, her heart, her chest, and head.

jack cracked a smirnoff open for her. danny caught y/n’s eyes as she took a sip and gave her a thumbs up. when she waved him off, he winked, then wandered his way into the living room, where people were dancing. he’d mentioned something about ethan being there. y/n looped her arm through megan’s, pointed in that direction. megan nodded excitedly and pulled them to the makeshift dance floor.

they danced for what felt like hours but, really, was only maybe forty five minutes. jack and leo, avid partiers, continued shoving shots into their friend’s hands, traveling between the bar in the kitchen and the dance floor. y/n losing track of time turned into her losing track of how much she was drinking. one smirnoff turned into numerous empty glasses that she’d abandon on the coffee table beside her.

she had to take her jacket off after a while, sweating too much in the jean material. y/n tossed it, absentmindedly, on the couch. she probably wouldn’t remember it there later. she’d probably have jack in a frenzy, texting everyone tomorrow about random articles of clothing in his living room. she’d probably lose the 20 stuffed into the pocket to some wandering hands. but it didn’t matter.

nothing really mattered. not when her favorite song played, not when megan spun her around, when danny would yell lyrics into her face and ruffle her hair. y/n just kept throwing her head back, giggling like a mad woman.

it didn’t matter. it did not matter to her. the entire, fucked up situation with stiles. it didn’t matter that he had used her, that he had been seeing lydia the whole time. it did not matter that he had kept so many secrets from her. it did not matter that she broke her own rules, that she let him get beneath her skin, that she fell in love with hi

it did not really matter if she loved him.

y/n turned on her heel, dancing around in circles with megan, both girls holding each other’s hands like they were schoolgirls. her hair whipped over her shoulders, in waves behind her back. her eyes couldn’t focus on the blurred, bright lights passing her vision as they spun. the bodies surrounding them turned into smudges against her vision. she couldn’t tell who was who.

but she thought she saw stiles standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clear as day.

y/n stalled in her tracks. she nearly fell over from how quickly she stopped. megan bumped into her shoulder, grabbed y/n’s arm to steady herself.

y/n couldn’t breathe. she squinted her eyes, rubbed at them, smudging her mascara.

her sight cleared and there was nobody there.

megan laughed loudly in y/n’s ear, tugging on her arm, “why’d you stop?! keep going! spin, spin!”

y/n took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the spot where she had pictured stiles. “i need air,” she mumbled.

megan yelled, “what are you saying?”

y/n pulled her arm out of megan’s, “i’m going outside,” she barely looked at her friend. this is why she didn’t like to drink.

y/n stumbled through the house, being shoved left and right by the sweaty, dancing teenagers suffocating her. she didn’t know when she’d started crying, but her face was slick was tears. she wiped her hands across her cheeks, smearing more mascara and eyeliner, blackening her palms. she couldn’t focus her thoughts, nor did she feel like herself. this is why she didn’t like to drink. because she wasn’t logical, she was out of control.

y/n found the side door, the one that led to jack’s garage, and slammed it shut behind her. once she reached the garage floor, she slowly lowered herself to the bottom step, hugged her knees to her chest. she didn’t know if she was having a panic attack or a full mental breakdown. but she couldn’t breathe. and she just wanted to be sober so she could figure out her shit.

y/n pressed a hand to her chest, hoping the pressure would do something: ground her, snap her back to reality. all she could do was sob, rock back and forth like a baby. as she did so, her phone fell out of her back pocket. somehow, her camera roll was open on the screen. staring up at her. a picture of stiles and winnie was there, taunting her.

y/n didn’t have any inhibitions, too far gone to know what crossed the line of boundaries she’d made when she was sober. so, she picked up her phone, her hands shaking.

and she hit the little telephone next to his contact. she stared at the picture as it rung.

she needed him. she needed him to hold her, bare-naked under his bedsheets, warm against his chest. needed him to rake his fingers through her hair and to kiss her forehead, call her baby again. even just say her name. she’d even pretend, like she did a dozen times, just for him, that she didn’t notice his lips linger there. she’d pretend it never happened.

anything for him. if he wanted her and lydia- that was fine. he could have her. she was his, completely, fully. all of his. every inch of her skin that he had laid eyes, that he had touched his with fingertips, every inch of skin that he had nipped at with his teeth- it was his.

he picked up immediately.

“y/n? oh, my god, i’m so fucking- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what i did-“

“stiles,” she cut him off, voice barely above a whisper.

his tone instantly softened. a soothing one replaced his usually hectic vocal demeanor, “oh, baby.” he knew, from just the smallest whimper barely uttered between her lips, he knew that she didn’t want to fight. she didn’t call to argue. she didn’t call to make up, either. she just called to hear him, to talk to him. she needed him.

she’d never know how much he needed her, too.

his voice, breathy in her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. y/n sniffled, knuckles white on the hand which held her phone. her head lolled down, chin hiding into her chest.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

y/n chewed on her lip for a moment, willing it to stop wobbling, “i mis-“ she stopped herself, jamming a different word onto what she was saying to cover it up, “i mistake. i-um, didn’t mean to call you.

it took him a second to reply, “oh. ok.” he knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t know what else to say. he didn’t want to press her into a conversation she didn’t want to have. but he didn’t want to end the call. he wanted to be whatever she needed in this moment.

they sat there in silence for a good two minutes, not even the sound of their own ragged, anticipatory breaths making any noise in the other’s ear. y/n’s hand was shaking. she loosened her tight grip on her knees and stretched her legs out in front of her. the shift in position helped her breath a little bit better.

she sniffled again, tilted her head back. as she stared at the ceiling, she suddenly laughed. “i didn’t make a fucking mistake, stiles. god, i meant to call you.”

“oh, good,” his tone remained still and flat. he was focused on reading her words. there was meaning between the lines that he couldn’t read. and she was acting strange. he was decoding everything.

“i mean to call you because every single second that i’m not with you, i feel like i’m going to die!” she exclaimed, tossing her other hand in the air.

stiles rubbed his lips together, brows furrowed, “i’m glad that you called.” he, also, felt like he was going to die without her. but, he didn’t know if he should tell.

if only stiles knew that if he would have just told her, honestly, how he felt, as soon as he felt it, months ago, this entire situation could have been avoided. alas, it was a lesson he was still learning.

“good,” y/n huffed. hearing him calmed her down. knowing he was there coaxed her off the edge of anxiety. now, her drunken self took back over her body. and drunk y/n wanted to dance, “okay. i’m going back to the party-“

“party?” stiles interrupted her, his concerned tone back. she was annoyed that he cared where she was at. he didn’t have any right to that feeling- though, also, it made her feel good, that jealousy, that toxicity.

drunk y/n was feeling a lot.

she nodded, though he couldn’t see her, stating matter of factly, “party. i’m at a party, stiles. i’m drunk, and i’m having a blast. well, i was having a blast until you popped into my mind. god, do you know how badly i want to punch you in the face? i just wanna give you, like, a knuckle sandwich, ya know? maybe being hit will make you figure your shit out. okay, whatever. like i was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, i’m going back to the party. i’m going to go dance with my friends-“

stiles had just left the animal clinic, where he, lydia, allison, and scott had met to discuss plans to combat the killer still in beacon hills. chills were lingering on his skin, thinking about all of the photographs stolen from the station, picturing dead students cut at the throat. every time they’d pull another out of the beige manila folder, y/n’s face would appear in his head, attached to a battered, beaten corpse. he’d been worried sick about her the last week, especially since the murderous rampages had slowly spread, closer to home. and, they were more vicious as every day passed. he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t stay outside her house every night, parked in his jeep down the road, barely able to sleep.

her, drunk at a party, was the last situation stiles needed her to be in. it was dangerous. he didn’t want to show up to a crime scene with her corpse lying within a body bag. he couldn’t lose her.

of course, she didn’t know that that was a possible ending to her night. everyone knew about the serial killer, but average citizens of beacon hills didn’t really seem concern themselves with something that seemed so out of reach. teenagers, especially, were naive and vulnerable to things like that.

“who’s with you?” he interceded her words, again. y/n groaned in response and went to complain about how he always did shit like that. but, he spoke again, more firmly this time, “y/n, who’s with you?”

“my friends, just danny, megan, jack, leo. a bunch of other people i don’t know,” she listed off, staring into space. “why do you care?”

“where is it?” stiles demanded. sure, he didn’t have claws, fangs, or anything that would stop a literal supernatural serial killer besides a beat-up baseball ball and his annoying attitude which would eventually drive the creature even more insane. but, he needed to be there. heather had died at a party. the ending scene of a slasher film always happened at a party. parties were breeding grounds for death, as if they were the tenth circle of dante’s inferno or something.

y/n, danny, leo, megan- they were all sitting ducks. targets for something really bad yet to happen.

so, he needed to be there. convince her to leave, if he could. if she wouldn’t leave, he’d stay. he’d stay for her.

anything for her.

y/n hung up on the phone once he said he was on the way. she’d scoffed and said, “yeah, fucking right. danny will beat the shit out of you.”

the beeping tone of a hung up line hit stiles like a truck. he still didn’t quite understand what he had done. if he did, he’d had fixed it by now. he was always good at fixing things. maybe he didn’t have glowing red eyes, or the ability to predict death, but he always was able to fix the jeep. he pulled his dad out of his alcoholic pit after his mom’s death. he was a problem solver. he was good at it.

but, he didn’t what was broken.

tonight, he intended to find out. he didn’t care if danny beat the shit out of him, or if y/n wouldn’t listen. he’d wait for her to open her ears to his incessant bickering, holding an ice pack to whatever bruises danny had left. he knew she’d break eventually.

if she really was done with him, if she really didn’t want to hear him out, why else had she called him?

–

stiles broke about a billion traffic laws. but he managed to get there, quickly, in one piece.

he couldn’t locate y/n anywhere inside the house, but did find all of her friends dancing in the living room. had they been there the whole time? did they even know y/n was on her own? probably not. you’d think, with a serial killer on the loose, they’d care more about each other’s safety.

his jaw dropped at the sight of them, carelessly floating through the crowd while one of their friends was drunk and alone, in some dark corner of this house. it pissed him off, as did all of the people pushing against him, alcohol sloshing over the rims of their cups and onto his shoes, the smell of sweat, and the sight of teenagers making out against walls, doors, other couples.

he had always hated people, but parties reminded him just how much of that hatred existed within his chest.

stiles checked the upstairs bedrooms, bathrooms, called her name out, down the basement steps, peeked into the empty garage, and even looked inside a pantry in case she’d stuffed herself somewhere like that.

stiles was grateful to, eventually, find her, outside, on the edge of the pool. her sneakers and socks were flung into the yard behind her. she swung her bare feet in the chlorinated water, completely soaking the bottoms of her jeans. y/n’s palms were planted on the concrete beside her thighs, her head thrown back, eyes closed as she swayed to the music. she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

stiles huffed when he saw her, the deep, worried breath rattling in his chest. “y/n,” he said, hoping to garner her attention. his hands flung about him, as they normally did when he spoke.

she didn’t seem to care that he was there, but she definitely heard him. he knew she had because he watched y/n’s shoulders flinch, ever so slightly, at the sound of her own name.

stiles squatted down beside her, curling a soft hand around her bicep, “y/n, hey-“

she pulled her arm away, as if his hand was made of lava. “go away, stiles.” his hand stilled in the air where she’d pushed it, fingers flexing at the rejection.

stiles then pressed the hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut with frustration, impatience. “y/n, please-“

she looked up at him, jaw slack from her drunken state. her eyes looked darkened, the deadly stare enhanced by her ruined makeup. “what the fuck do you want?”

stiles met her eyes. his face softened, concern overwhelmingly her features. just seeing her face, though it was a wreck- it sent goosebumps across his skin. she was so fucking pretty, even though she’d been crying. why had she been crying?

“i want to talk to you-“

“go away,” she waved him off. y/n then pulled her legs from the pool, dripping water all over the concrete. stiles’ eyes moved down her body, ensuring she was in one piece. he noticed the goosebumps all over her bare arms. she was freezing cold.

he stood with her, following her quick feet. “where’s your jacket?” stiles began to pull off his zip up jacket while she grabbed her shoes. he reached out for her arm again. his fingertips on her shoulder felt like a zap of electricity.

y/n flinched away again. she whipped her head back towards him, a deep frown enlisted on her features, “fuck off, stiles! don’t even try pretend like you care about that shit right now! seriously, go the fuck home! i told you not to come!”

stiles took a step away from her. he wished he knew what he had done so fucking badly. he wanted to kiss her eyelids. he wanted to clean off her makeup, wrap her up in his bedsheets, rub circles into her back until she fell asleep, soundly in his hood.

but, all of that couldn’t really be at the forefront of his mind right now. it couldn’t matter. he was here to protect, whether she wanted him there or not. and, she very obviously did not want him at this party. well, too damn bad. he pushed the thoughts aside.

“i’m not going anywhere,” stiles threw his hands up, as if to challenge her. if she wanted him gone, she’d have to drag him out of there. he continued to follow her. she found a chair and sat down in order to put her shoes on. he continued, “look, i don’t know what i did, but you don’t even understand what’s happening in this town. i have to protect-“

“bro, get the fuck away from her!”

stiles felt a pressure against his chest as someone’s abnormally strong had pushed him away from y/n’s presence. she looked up from her shoe laces that she was struggling to tie, brows furrowing at the sound of stiles’ grunt. she watched as stiles stumbled over his feet. he straightened up, quick, and met the eye of his assailant.

“oh, fuck off, dude,” stiles tilted his head to the side, slowly shaking it in annoyance. his jaw clenched, fists flexed at his sides. he took an intimidating step forward.

y/n glanced between stiles and sam owens, taking a deep, shuddering breath. sam puffed out his chest, towering over stiles by a couple of inches. although he was buffer, taller, a couple years older, he didn’t seem nearly as threatening as stiles did. the devilish qualities to his features seemed to heighten themselves in defiance to sam’s presence.

the black haired boy glared his eyes at sam, pupils blown out out with a stormy darkness. she knew it was wrong, but seeing him so angry at sam- y/n couldn’t help but admit that it made her stomach twirl.

they’d never really had the sam talk, at least she hadn’t told him every single thing. she’d mentioned sam, once, when she and stiles were talking about something else. it was offhanded, when she brought him up. danny, however, had spilled his guts to stiles about the short situationship y/n and that “douchebag” had been in all summer.

and stiles was pissed the fuck off. he knew about sam’s girlfriend at college. he knew sam had used y/n for sex over the summer. he knew that sam had told her he loved her right before breaking up with her.

oh, was stiles angry.

that was, after all, his girl now. and nobody was gonna fuck with stiles’ girl. nobody was gonna fuck with stiles.

he stepped forward, now nearly chest to chest with sam, who replied, “who the fuck are you? y/n told you to leave! want me to show you the door, kid?”

“who the fuck am i? watch your mouth, dickhead. you have no fucking business here-“

y/n quickly stood, wary hands before herself, “stiles, it’s not worth it, i promise.” she stalled his words, but stiles wouldn’t even look over at her. his dark eyes bore a hole through sam, and she knew he was probably going to hit him.

y/n, who was now feeling quite sobered up, glanced to the house. she knew that if they started fighting, stiles would get his ass handed to him. sam was a wrestler in college, the best in his weight class. he was a fucking state champion.

so, she needed to get to danny, who was definitely stronger than stiles, at least. he’d probably be able to keep them apart long enough for her to calm stiles down.

but, she didn’t have any time, because sam was mouthing stiles off again. and stiles really was the best at banter. so, he was getting himself into a lot of trouble.

“you put your fucking hands on her, and she told you to stop. makes it my goddamn business-“

“oh, my god, shut the fuck up!” stiles rolled his eyes at sam. he opened his mouth to shoot off some other sarcastic remark when sam reared back a fist and clipped the side of stiles’ face. stiles nearly fall back on the concrete alongside the pool, but he caught himself. having a werewolf as a best friend had taught him a thing or two. so, he was ready to fight.

stiles hit sam in return, most likely breaking his hand- definitely breaking his hand, he knew it. but the punch tossed sam onto the lounge chair behind him. it surprised both stiles and y/n, who had to jump out of the way. she nearly getting taken out by sam’s thrown body.

stiles met her eye and the sight of her, standing there, scared, softened him. he reached for her, closing the distance between then within two long strides. he set his hands on her biceps, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left one. blood dripped from his cracked knuckles, bleeding onto her skin. she clutched onto his elbows in response, any anger for him washed away by fear and worry.

“shit, are you okay? i’m so-“

before he could continue, y/n was shoved to the ground. she scraped her palms, cut her elbow open, and busted her tailbone, hard, on the concrete. she thought she hit her chin, too, but she couldn’t really tell, because y/n’s vision blurred from the fall.

sam tackled stiles to the ground with another punch. they landed in the grass, and went at each other. it took y/n a second to clear her pained head, but she managed to push herself up on her feet. some of their classmates continued partying around them, most just ignoring the fight. but a small crowd gathered to watch it, like it was something exciting, something fun to do. the bystanders made y/n feel sick. nobody was doing anything.

she didn’t even take a second to look at stiles, knowing that seeing him like that would stall her in her tracks. instead, she turned towards jack’s house, danny’s name screeching out of her throat.

she ran inside, feeling like she was pushing through thick, slow jello. she continued to yell out his name. luckily, she found him, on the dance floor still. ethan was there, too. good- he could help.

ethan was already meeting her, setting a kind hand on her arm. “what’s wrong?” his eyes glazed over, and he looked to the side, as though he could hear the fight. he ran outside.

danny shoved through the crowd, towards her. he caught her chin in his hand examining her wounds, “what the fuck happened? what’s going on?”

y/n, breathing heavily, sobbing again, stumbled out, “sam and stiles!”

danny pushed aside as he fell into a run. y/n followed, though the burning of her cuts and scrapes became more intense on her nerves. she seethed a breath between her teeth, stumbling over her feet, but pushed on.

ethan had shoved sam to the grass, though he was getting back up, again. danny immediately lunged in between them before sam could get to stiles. danny sent a harsh punch to sam’s gut, forcing him backwards again. danny then grabbed stiles by the shirt, helped him become balanced on his feet, before danny pushed him away, too. ethan came back in, grabbing stiles around the chest to hold him back, though stiles fought against the tight hold. sam somehow got up, again, clutching his stomach, and jumped towards stiles. danny punched him again and shook out his fist after. the look on his face was annoyed, but also, somehow, vengeful. he had been waiting all summer, all of fall, to punch this motherfucker.

“fuck you guys!” sam spat at danny and stiles from his knees, more blood trailing down his already slick chin.

stiles grunted, fighting against ethan’s hold. “you’re a piece of fucking shit! pussy ass bitch-“

“shut the fuck up-“ sam cut him off, then added, “i don’t even give a fuck about that bitch!“

danny shook his head at the words spitting from sam’s mouth. stiles looked angrier, if at all possible. ethan’s hold loosened on him, shocked by the insults sam threw at y/n. ethan did care for her, too, even if he barely knew her. she was everything to danny.

all three boys were seething with anger. sam had called her a bitch, and they did not like that.

sam simply smirked up at them, his words and expression challenging them. he went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but he didn’t get a chance to even take another breath because danny had lunged after him again.

ethan let go of stiles, purposefully, and the boy followed suit. ethan, a little more controlled- even though the situation pissed him off, too- grabbed danny, but not before allowing him to get a few punches in.

y/n ran forward and tried to grab stiles’ arm. she failed, and instead tripped over his shoe. she tumbled into the grass. she quickly pulled herself up, again. when she looked for stiles, she saw him being restricted again, this time by scott’s arm. she didn’t know when he had arrived, but she was glad for the extra help.

it made her heart swell that all of these men cared about her so much to fight sam like they were, but it really needed to end already. it shouldn’t have even gotten out of hand in the first place. she was nauseous, hurting in all of the places she’d been wounded, and extremely tired from the alcohol still coursing through her system.

y/n stood up. scott was rushing out words to his friend, “hey! stiles! stiles, cmon, dude! calm down! stiles!”

“stiles!” y/n called. she crouched down in front of him, reaching for his face.

stiles finally met her eyes and a steady rhythm graciously caught his breath. she cupped his jaw in her delicate fingers. his blood smeared across his face, all over her hands.

a few tears ran down his face, falling into her palms. she didn’t know why he was crying, if it was because of his injuries or his anger. but she wiped them away with her thumbs.

“it’s okay, baby,” she whispered, for only him to hear. “i’m okay, it’s okay. please, just calm down.”

scott, who had let go of stiles, turned to sam, who was standing up from the ground. scott was charismatic, and could usually easily demand people. he put out a cautious hand towards sam, “leave it, buddy. just leave it, trust me,” scott warned him.

stiles slumped forward, on his knees. y/n squatted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. she used all of her strength to stand them up, brushing the sweaty, bloody hair from his face. sam watched her tenderness as she cared for stiles, feeling a surge of jealousy. sam knew he didn’t want her. he knew he had willingly given her up. but, that didn’t mean he wanted anybody else to get to have her.

so, just when it seemed like it was over, sam scoffed, “yeah, you’re right. i’ll leave it. she’s not worth it. she’s just an easy fuck and a cheap ass date-“

now, scott was angry. he roared, and y/n thought she saw his eyes flash a bright red. he went after sam, just to shut his stupid fucking mouth. he swept past y/n and stiles, who clutched onto her waistline protectively. he tried to duck them out of the way, but his foot skidded over the concrete, and they tripped towards the water.

she yelped, clutching onto his neck, as they fell into the pool. the water enveloped them, but tore them from one another. y/n kicked her feet sporadically, shocked by the cold, by the alarming fall they’d taken. she grabbed for stiles’ shirt and gratefully felt his hands fluttering for her hips.

she blew out a lot of bubbles, struggling to hold her breath from all of the shock. stiles tugged her tightly against him, again, and swam them to the surface. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched onto his shoulders. she was shaking, with fear, with pain, from the cold water nipping at her skin. it was all so much all at once that she just laughed.

stiles stared at her as she tossed her head back, giggling like a maniac. he furrowed hit brows, jutted his chin out, “what are you laughing about?”

y/n barely met his eye, continuing to laugh at the fucked up situation. “this is just so stupid!”

he remembered she was drunk and tapped her hip, “okay, let’s get you out of here-“

“it’s stupid, stiles!” she slapped a hand down onto his shoulder. “you’re stupid! that fight was fucking stupid! sam’s stupid! this night is stupid! i’m stupid!”

“why am i- why are you stupid?” he didn’t want to make it all about him. she was clearly grappling with something, something she needed to talk out.

she couldn’t continue to push everything away, including him. “i’m stupid! i let you and that stupid boy fuck up everything! i let it happen not once, but twice! what is it- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? i’m a fool! you and sam are, like- oh, my god, im just stupid. and that was so fucking stupid- you and sam fighting over me! you guys fought over me, but both of you are the reason im so fucked up in the first place! it’s your guys’ fault and you just had some stupid pissing contest-!”

“me and sam?” stiles sounded out his words carefully, working through her rambles in his fuzzy head.

the night she’d ran out of his house, in a craze, a mess because of his phone blowing up- what had triggered that?

who had called stiles that night? who had been blowing up his phone? was it-

it was lydia.

lydia, the girl everyone at beacon hills high knew he’d had a major crush on for, like basically, ever.

y/n must have looked at his phone. she must have put together, based off of the texts he’d been sent, based off all of the context clues laying right in front of him, that he and lydia were together.

meanwhile, am had had a girlfriend the entire time he and y/n had gone out. every day, he’d see his girlfriend. then, usually on the weekends, when it was dark, he’d bring y/n out like a toy.

y/n thought stiles was just like sam. y/n thought stiles was using her.

she had no clue that she was everything and the sun to him. she had no clue that he needed her like water, that he craved her like wine. she didn’t know that he spent every night rereading their texts, analyzing their conversations, going over their interactions, decoding everything to find a way for her to love him despite her hurt, despite what they agreed on.

she was used to being broken by people who claimed to love her, and stiles was just another part of that system.

so, he needed to tell. right now.

stiles gripped onto her hips, shaking her body just once so she’d meet his eyes. “listen-“

“no, just- get me out-“

“y/n, you beautiful, gorgeous, sweet woman- just listen to me! okay? just listen!” stiles demanded, “i’m not with lydia, alright? i’ve never been with her. i don’t want her- i’m in-“

“stiles!” scott called his name from above, standing at the edge of the pool. his eyes still glowed red, his face was still morphed into that of a wolf. scott’s chest puffed out, in, heavily, with deep, ragged breaths.

stiles knew something was wrong based off of his friend’s demeanor.

“we have to get to the school. lydia’s in trouble.”

stiles looked to y/n, who’s face had lit up from the possibility of stiles’ words. her expression morphed into confusion. he wanted to say something, to say sorry. but, he couldn’t. he couldn’t focus.

so, y/n took her turn to speak, graciously replying with, “stiles, i know there’s so much that you’re still hiding from me-“ she glanced up at scott, who tilted his head with shame, “so, i’m coming with you. if you want me to trust you, i have to come with you. i have to know.”

stiles knew she was right.

so he drug her, head first, into the world of the supernatural.

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

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jj-maybanks-daughter · 3 months ago

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reason to stay

she doesn't want to leave, she needs a reason to stay.

not proofread, I enjoy writing these bit they are not very good lol

i asked Jesus for a sign, and I today I haven't cried. its only two pm, but that beats yesterday, so i guess that's a reason to stay.

rafe always got into little arguments with her, making her sob like a baby. when he doesnt, it's great! its more often than not, however. he has treated her like a princess for the whole day so far, beating the record time of holding off till he blows he top off to 2 pm. we will have to see how long that's lasts

if I go find someone new, I lose your mom and your sister, too. you know how much i hate change, so i guess that's a reason to stay.

she loved rose and sarah, even if rose wasn't even rafes real mom, she still loved her as if she was. rose loved her right back, making her little deserts to take home over she came over to the house. she has a great relationship with sarah. they go shopping or out to dinner every week. she didnt want to lose Sarah and rose for breaking up with rafe.

and I ain't perfect either, we all make mistakes

she wasn't exactly the back away from a fight girl, so technically it could be fifty percent her fault, even if he started the arguments. she kept that in mind.

you don't try like you used to

rafe would bring her favorite flowers to her house during the talking stage. her house smelt like a garden with every bouquet. now she nearly gets a welcome at his front door. he acted like she was a given.

you don't look at me the same

he used to look deep into her eyes, hypnotize by her into his love. and it was genuine, not some act her put on to get the girl. now there's not a day gone by without eyerolls or eyebrow scrunches.

you used to say your sorry, now whiskeys what you blame

rafe had always made mistakes. but he would genuinally mean it when he apologized, showing up with a handwritten card and a box of choclates . now he blames it on the amount of work he had to get done. the "you know I was drunk" card was not unheard of in their relationship.

im a giver, but I've given all I can

she always had wanted to please rafe, giving him everything she had for him to give everything he had back. the love and care wasn't working safe anymore, she had given him anything, but not willing to give up everything for him.

we both know I ain't one to walk away, but I'm running out of reasons to stay.

she had never given up on past relationships, scared she wouldn't be able to find something better and she was just being dramatic. all of her exes she had were from them moving on from her. her reasons to stay were plummeting everyday, making her wonder how much more she could take.

song- reason to stay by Megan moroney

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader x jj #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Safe Haven [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.8k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Reader learns some things about the Kinsellas in this one, and then some drama ensues and you get a Mikey POV at the end. Warning about some depicitons of violence/blood in this one--it's a smidgen darker. Also for those who've seen the show, I'm making up the explanations for some things since Kin didn't answer some things in the two seasons we do have. I always appreciate feedback if you enjoyed (or just want to scream about Mikey with me!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @norestfortheshelbywicked @shiorimakibawrites @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky

Shortly after you'd left Michael’s this morning, you'd been bombarded with questions from Megan almost the moment you’d walked in the door. And it came as no surprise to you that most of her questions were of a sexual nature. But admittedly after she had hounded you about fucking him over and over, you had gone up to your room to try to write and distract yourself from the thoughts swirling around in your head. Though you’d quickly found you couldn't focus on your writing because your mind kept wandering back to the mental image of Michael in his boxers from the other day. And that image in conjunction with how solid and safe he felt beneath you this morning, mixed with the memory of his comforting scent you could recall a little too easily, had stirred something inside of you, something that was beginning to become difficult to ignore.

You'd actually been in the middle of contemplating how wrong it would be if you'd just closed your curtains and done something about your increasing arousal when your phone had interrupted your thoughts. Angela had called, checking in on your progress and giving you updates about your social media. Needless to say, her call had killed whatever mood you'd found yourself in and thus ended your internal debate on the morality of masturbating to thoughts of Michael after what had just happened to him the night before.

It wasn't until the early evening that you had a moment to finally sit down in the kitchen with your laptop set up before you on Megan's kitchen table, readying yourself to dig into the Kinsellas now that your sister had gone in to work. You'd even poured yourself a large glass of wine for the task, though you knew drinking on an empty stomach before dinner wouldn't end well. You were bound to get a little tipsy–maybe even drunk. Though depending on what you uncovered, you figured you might be grateful for that. Because you were about to take a deep dive into the Kinsella family.

If things had just gone a little differently this morning, if Birdy had not made comments that hit too close to home and shaken you up, you probably wouldn’t have found yourself here. And you’d have sat down to do this earlier, too, but you had been waiting for Megan to leave for her shift at the hospital. You hadn’t wanted her around while you poked a little too closely at the neighbors’ secrets.

But as you took a sip from your glass of wine, your eyes gazing out of the kitchen window as you waited for your laptop to start up, you wondered just what you were going to find on his family. Particularly Michael. You found yourself wondering how you'd end up feeling about him after you dug into every dark corner you could find.

Setting your glass back down on the table, you opened your search browser first. You figured the easiest place to begin was Google–though that wasn’t the only place you were about to go looking. A simple search for the name ‘Kinsella’ specifically in Dublin brought up a plethora of links, most of them to articles about gangland activity. You skimmed through the titles–shootings, hospitalizations, drug dealing, murder investigations. Everything you’d pretty much already anticipated you’d find and nothing truly surprising. Though the multiple murder allegations tied to Michael had been a little curious, considering your current interactions with him. He’d seemed far too gentle for a killer, at least in your experience.

One article further down caught your attention–something on a Brendan Kinsella. You opened the article, reading through it quickly. He’d apparently been incarcerated for murder charges. A quick check of the math had you figuring his release was fast approaching–probably within a year. Your eyes slid back over to the photo of the gruff man in handcuffs; he would certainly be a lot older than that by now. Eyes narrowing, you studied the image curiously.

“Who are you?” you mused aloud.

Reaching your hand out, you picked up the glass of wine beside you again, taking another deep drink as you thought. You’d need to connect a few more dots first, you realized. You needed a genealogy of this family, something to map them all out. Birth records, marriage certificates, death records. Whatever you could get your hands on–and thankfully everything in Ireland was all public record and easily accessible. Though it wasn’t like you didn’t have a few tricks up your own sleeves you were saving once you breached the local garda’s database in a bit.

Pulling up the General Register Office and selecting the local county, you began to do a search, starting with this Brendan Kinsella. Right away you easily found a marriage certificate linked to him–to a woman by the name of Julie.

“If you were married, you probably had kids,” you said to yourself, eyeing the marriage certificate. “So…are Michael and Jimmy yours?”

Choosing Michael’s name, you searched for him in the database, soon finding his birth certificate–but your eyes were instantly drawn to the marriage certificate that had also popped up. Your heart felt like it skipped a beat in your chest at the sight of it just staring back at you on the screen.

“You’re… married ?”

With a heavy sigh you sat back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose. Michael was married? There was no way, though. Not with how he’d asked you on a date the other day. Not with how he’d curled up with you on his couch–even if it was while you’d both been asleep–and then asked you to stay for coffee.

Not with the way he’d often been looking at you. Flirting with you.

…right?

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You leaned forward, picking up your glass of wine and taking two deep drinks. “I might need another fucking bottle tonight,” you muttered to yourself as you lowered the glass to the table.

Opening the marriage certificate, you realized it was from a few years back–almost seventeen years ago. A sinking feeling hit you in the gut shortly afterwards. If he was married for that long, he was bound to have a legitimate child or two.

“Alright, so who’s Allison Kinsella��my neighbor’s wife? Or his ex-wife?” you muttered.

Pulling up a new search, you typed in her name–and were once again shocked. Your mouth fell open as you eyed the link to her death certificate.

“Okay, so ex-wife,” you breathed out. “Fucking hell.”

Taking a moment, you opened the death certificate and examined it. She had passed just over eight years ago from a fatal gunshot wound. Which would place her death right before Michael's imprisonment. Had he gone to prison because he'd sought revenge on her murderer?

No wonder Michael always looked so torn and broken, he was a man who had clearly lost a lot. And he was continuing to experience loss if Jaime's recent passing told you anything. You felt for him–not in a sense of pity but in commiseration of a sort. Your life certainly hadn't been sunshine and rainbows, either.

Chewing a thumbnail, you closed out of the death certificate and began to focus on mapping out what you could of the family. The entire process had taken you another half hour before you finally had a picture of everything you could get your hands on. Brendan Kinsella was indeed Michael and Jimmy’s father, but their mother’s whereabouts appeared to be a mystery even to you. There was no death certificate for her to be found, so you assumed she was still alive and had probably disappeared on her husband. Your mind instantly went to domestic abuse, but you wondered why she’d leave behind her boys if that was the case.

You’d also come to find that Bridget and Frank were the siblings of Brendan. Both of them had deceased spouses themselves, but besides that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. In your earlier searching of articles you’d come across the name of an Eric Kinsella, and you’d come to learn he was Frank’s son. But besides the surprise marriage of Michael and the death of his wife, along with Michael and Jimmy’s missing mother, nothing shocking and out of the ordinary really stood out to you.

After piecing together a family tree of sorts, you’d taken to digging into properties owned by the Kinsellas’. If the drug trafficking allegations from the vast news stories were to hold weight, you knew from personal experience they’d have their hand in a couple of different businesses. They’d need somewhere to clean their revenue selling drugs, after all. And it hadn’t taken you long to find a handful of businesses owned by them either; two of the most glaringly obvious to you were the tanning salon and car dealership. And after a quick look into both businesses, you’d easily come to find the dealership was being run by Amanda Kinsella–the woman married to Jimmy. Admittedly you’d stared at the professional headshot of her on the website for far too long, your eyes boring into the pretty face smiling back at you. Something sharp twisted in your gut at the knowledge that she had meant enough to Michael for him to sleep with her despite being married to his brother. Was there still something there between them even after those eight years he had spent in prison?

Movement outside of the kitchen window broke through your thoughts, catching your attention as your eyes slid up from your laptop screen. A teenage girl had come to a stop just past the driveway, but her eyes were focused next door. On Michael’s house. You couldn’t make out her face with the hood of her camouflage sherpa jacket pulled up, but you could see a few dark curls peeking out from underneath it. She was wearing what looked like a private school uniform, her red skirt reaching her calves. And she had a backpack on–blue with what looked like white stars all over it.

Curiously you watched her, eyes narrowing as she just stood there staring at Michael’s house. After what seemed to be a minute, she ducked her head and briskly walked off down the street past your drive and past Michael’s house.

That had been odd.

…or had it?

If Michael had been married for quite a few years to Allison before she’d passed and he’d gone to prison, it was entirely possible to believe the two of them had children. Would it be so farfetched to think that was Michael’s daughter? Maybe she’d been drawn here after discovering her father was out of prison. Why else would a teenage girl appear and just stare at his house before disappearing so abruptly?

Continuing to chew your thumbnail, your focus still outside of the kitchen window on the now vacant driveway, questions slowly started to arise in your mind. Why would his daughter show up at his place but just leave without a word? Why wouldn’t she have wanted to see her father who’d just gotten out of prison after eight years?

The bullet holes in Michael’s sitting room resurfaced in your mind next as your eyes gradually made their way back to your laptop screen. Something had happened in Michael’s house, that much was obvious. And judging by the bullet holes and the comments about him possibly not wanting to stay there, you had a good feeling it had something to do with Allison’s death.

Fingers quickly flying across the keyboard, you searched her name in a simple Google search. But after you had hit enter, the results that had appeared immediately had you pushing your chair away from the table, your heart thundering wildly in your chest.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, that can’t be right. There’s no way.”

On the screen before you, the first article that had appeared read ‘Michael Kinsella convicted in death of wife Allison Kinsella.’ You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your eyes re-reading that headline over and over. There was no way that sweet and considerate man next door killed his own wife. Doesn’t matter if he’d killed others in protection of his family and their business; he wouldn’t even kill a goddamn spider this morning. He’d stepped in front of you when you’d screamed over the thing as if he’d been ready to shield you from a bullet.

“Wait,” you said, your mind reeling backwards.

He had stepped in front of you like he’d been ready to shield you from a bullet this morning. You hadn’t imagined that.

“There’s more to this,” you muttered to yourself, exiting out of the internet search and pulling up a particular program on your laptop. “There has to be.”

After fifteen minutes of some skilled hacking–something you’d learned from a unique member of the Serpents–you’d managed to breach the Dublin garda’s database. You were practically hunched over your laptop, gnawing on your bottom lip as you meticulously read every detailed note made from that night Allison had died.

What you’d discovered was that Allison had in fact been shot and killed in the house next door and Michael had in fact pleaded guilty to the charges over her death. You’d also discovered he’d been very drunk and high on cocaine–so clearly he’d been fucked out of his mind that night. But the notes had mentioned how distraught Michael had been over her death. And it also appeared there’d been a report of multiple gunshots, which made sense considering the many bullet holes in that house that you had seen firsthand. And it was involuntary manslaughter that Michael had been charged with, hence the lesser sentence in prison. Which was an important detail–murder would have constituted the situation as premeditated to some extent, involuntary manslaughter pointed at an accident.

From what you could piece together, it seemed like Michael had not intentionally killed his wife. Her death had either been an error, possibly someone shooting her by mistake when the bullet was meant for Michael, or it had been further accidental in the sense that maybe Michael had been trying to protect her, but having been so out of his mind that evening, his aim may have been off or his reflexes slowed and he’d shot Allison instead of their attacker. Because you refused to believe that man intentionally killed his own wife.

Picking up your glass of wine, you held it in both of your hands for a minute. Your eyes were glued to the handful of JPEG image links attached to the document. No doubt they were crime scene images of Allison’s dead body in Michael’s sitting room. Jaw tightening, you were unsure if you wanted to dig that far into this. It already felt wrong that you’d pushed your way into such a personal piece of Michael’s life without his knowledge, but with Birdy looking so closely at you, you needed to know who was living on the same street as you. Tipping your head back, you downed the last half of your glass of wine, slamming the glass roughly onto the tabletop before you opened up the series of images.

They were exactly of what you’d thought they’d be. Allison’s lifeless body lay sprawled on Michael’s sitting room floor, just before the brick fireplace. Her dark, curly hair looked similar to the young girl you'd just spotted outside. Your eyes were drawn to the single bullet hole marring the brick of the fireplace next, the very same bullet hole you’d noticed last night. There had been so much blood in the images though–too much. You felt yourself getting dizzy, memories trying to resurface as you looked through the images of the crime scene. Soon, other images started to replace the ones on your screen, even when your eyes snapped shut.

Blood-stained white latex gloves. A lit cigarette in the dark. That smooth, deep voice.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Go back inside.”

Back stiffening in the chair, you felt your body begin to panic at the clear memory of Victor’s voice. Almost reflexively your eyes flew open and you began exiting out of every tab open on your laptop, turning it off and slamming it shut. You’d dug too far into the Kinsellas’ shit and drudged up some of your own in the process. How did you not see that coming?

Leaving the empty wine glass on the table, you made your way to the counter and picked up the bottle, chugging down the rest of its contents. Gunshots rang out in your mind, your hands shaking around the wine bottle. You slammed back the rest of the wine before shakily placing the bottle onto the counter.

But it wasn’t enough. You could still feel the memories scratching at your mind, trying to spill forth. And you didn’t need that.

Making your way over to the cabinet you knew contained Megan’s liquor, you opened it and pulled down the half-full bottle of whiskey. Unscrewing the cap, you drank straight from the bottle, trying your best to burn away the traces of Victor.

Michael was stretched across his sofa, his focus once again on his book. He'd had a long day today after the strange encounter between you and Birdy which had resulted in your curiously abrupt departure from his place. When he'd tried to push Birdy for answers, she merely shrugged and played dumb. But of course Michael knew better than to believe she hadn't been up to something.

Though he hadn't had much time to worry about it. He'd met with Jimmy for drinks later this morning, trying his best to console his grieving brother. Something he had only managed to fuck up, though that wasn't surprising considering the circumstances. But his meeting with Jimmy earlier today had made Michael quite uneasy. It was clear that Jimmy was thinking along the lines of revenge for Jamie's death. Wanting to put things right. Not that he could blame him, but he'd felt his brother's anger when he'd drawn a clear line about wanting to stay out of it, reminding Jimmy he needed to steer clear of trouble in order to have any chance of getting Anna back. He even had an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow afternoon to discuss his next steps, he certainly couldn't be conspiring to commit murder with his brother.

And of course afterwards he and Jimmy had been summoned to Birdy’s house and that had only made things worse. Frank was pushing Jimmy to sit still and wait for Eamon to deal with his men, encouraging Jimmy to accept the bag of cash Eamon had offered in consolation for the unfortunate death of his son. Michael couldn't exactly blame Jimmy for getting angry and pissing on the cash instead. But of course that had only led to Frank stopping by his place a little later to try and corner Michael, reminding him how Jaime wasn't truly his child but Anna was. How he needed to keep his head down and stay out of things, especially since he was trying to go straight in order to get Anna back in his life. It had been a shitty low blow from Frank just to make sure Michael kept Jimmy from starting a war with his need to avenge Jaime. Deep down it had pissed Michael off, hurt him even, but he'd shoved those feelings away like he did everything else.

He'd been so tired of everything with his family after the past couple of days that he'd locked himself up in his house by the time evening rolled around. He'd been grateful that no one else had decided to bother him tonight, just wanting to be left out of things so he could focus on his appointment tomorrow. Though he'd admittedly been disheartened when he hadn't spotted you in the back garden at all today. He had been hoping to talk to you, even if it was just for a moment. You often seemed to be a bright spot in his days. Instead he'd focused on reading, hoping to distract himself until maybe he could manage something like sleep later.

Michael had been so drawn into his book this evening, finger poised to turn the page, that the loud scream from next door startled him straight from the story. His eyes darted up and towards your sister’s back garden, a frown pulling at his lips. It sounded like it had come from your half-sister’s house. He waited with bated breath, wondering if he had somehow imagined the sound. Almost a minute later he heard a second muffled scream coming from next door.

Without even thinking, Michael threw his book onto the coffee table and flew from the sofa. He didn't hesitate as he sprinted down the hall towards his kitchen. He went straight for the refrigerator, roughly yanking it away from the wall and ripping the taped gun from off the back of it. He always kept it there for emergencies.

Shoulders squared and heart beating a little quicker, Michael didn't even bother to slip on shoes before pushing his way out of his front door. Jogging down his drive, he rounded the stone fence and turned up the drive to your half-sister’s. His pulse quickened further when he saw the front door half ajar. Had someone broken in?

He took the safety off the gun, his finger resting along the barrel beside the trigger as he raised it. Moving quietly on bare feet, Michael made his way inside the house, pushing the door open further with his shoulder. His heart sank when he saw the scene in the kitchen–a broken bottle of wine shattered on the floor, blood staining some of the glass. And that blood led a trail down the hallway.

He began to follow the trail of blood that appeared to have been a steady flow leading down the hall and up the stairs. As he stepped onto the first step, he heard the muffled voice of who he presumed was your half-sister Megan. Lowering the gun, he began to ascend the stairs two at a time. When he’d reached the top, he saw a light on in the middle room, the door partially closed. There was a smear of blood on what appeared to be a bathroom counter, the bright red causing Michael’s chest to tighten with fear.

Against his better judgment he crossed the landing and carefully pushed the door open. A woman in nurse’s scrubs turned at the appearance of someone in the doorway, immediately screaming at the sight.

“Whoa, hey,” he said quickly.

He held his hands up to show he meant no harm, but of course her eyes had darted to the gun in his hand. Her eyes grew wide as she froze from her place on the floor in front of the bathtub.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m your neighbor,” he spoke in a rush. “Megan, yeah? Grace’s sister? I heard screamin’ so I–I came to check if everythin’ was alrigh’. I’m not goin’ to hurt ya.”

She relaxed a little, taking a deep breath. But her eyes remained on the gun. Very slowly Michael lowered the weapon.

“I’m goin’ to put the safety back on,” he said gently. “And put it down. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes suddenly becoming more curious as he stepped further into the bathroom, turning the safety back on and setting the gun on the counter. He stood back up, sending her a weak smile as he held his hands back up.

“Michael, right?” Megan asked. “The one my sister has been spending time with?”

He nodded, his eyes shifting towards the smear of bright red over the side of the bathtub. It suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if someone had punched him really hard right in the chest and knocked every ounce of breath from his lungs.

“Is she–”

“She’s okay,” Megan answered swiftly, cutting him off.

She drew the shower curtain back, revealing the sight of you passed out in the bathtub, your hands covered in bandages. Michael’s heart sank at the sight. What the hell had happened?

“I got a text a bit ago and just got here,” Megan said, her voice sounding close to tears. “Had to duck out on my shift for a bit. Told them it was an emergency. Guess she was drinking–a lot–and cut her hand on some broken glass she’d been trying to clean up. But all she’d texted me with was that she needed help. I uh, I thought something else was going on when I saw the kitchen. Looked like a damn crime scene.” She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes as she looked back at you in the tub. “Then I thought something worse had happened when I found her like this.” Her eyes slowly shifted back to Michael, a sad smile on her lips. “Sorry for putting you on alert.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said, finding his voice oddly thick with emotion. “But ya, ya said ya were worried somethin’ else had happened to her?” he asked curiously, forcing his eyes away from your very still form in the tub and back on your sister. “Like what?”

Megan laughed bitterly, shaking her head as she gestured a hand to the gun. “The kind of something else that makes you a good neighbor to have if your first instinct is to come barreling in here ready to kill someone for her,” she replied.

Michael’s eyes instantly narrowed. “She in trouble?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Megan answered.

“What kind of trouble?” he pressed.

Megan sighed, her eyes slowly returning back to you. You stirred in the tub, your head rolling to the side as your mouth pulled into a frown.

“That’s not for me to tell you,” Megan said softly. “But I will say you seem like the kind of man I think she needs, from what I’ve seen and heard.”

Michael gaped at her, his mouth dropping open in surprise. He didn’t know how to react or feel about that comment.

“I know you asked her on a date the other day,” she explained, shooting Michael a small grin. “And I know she told you no. But I also happen to know her really well and I’m not an idiot. She likes you.”

Michael couldn’t control the flutter of excited nerves in his stomach at Megan’s words. You liked him? He’d wondered how true that was from some of your interactions with him. They’d been confusing; it felt as if you were interested but since you had refused the thought of going on a date–or to just grab drinks–the other night, he’d wondered if he’d just been that far removed from human interaction after his time in prison that he was reading you wrong. But here your sister sat saying that you liked him.

“Ya–ya do realize I just got outta prison, yeah?” Michael said awkwardly. “And showed up with a gun just now?”

Megan’s smile only grew a little wider, one of her shoulders rising and falling in an indifferent shrug. “Doesn’t matter to either of us. And like I said already, she could use the kind of man who’ll show up with a gun ready to protect her without a thought. So that actually checks another mark in the pro column for you, Michael.”

Michael’s eyebrows shot high up onto his forehead at her words. Who the hell were you and your sister to not care about his time in prison or the casual way in which he had just barged into Megan’s house wielding a gun ready to shoot?

“And I can assure you she’s not normally like this,” Megan continued after a moment, gesturing to you passed out in the bathtub. “She’s–she’s going through some shit. It’s been hard and she–she doesn’t really have anyone to help her. I’m doing my best but there’s only so much I can do. So…hopefully this doesn’t make you think of her as like–”

“I don’t,” Michael cut in firmly.

Megan’s head tilted curiously to the side as she eyed him. He shook his head swiftly at your sister.

“I don’t think any differently about her,” he stated. “She–she hasn’t treated me any less than with…everythin’ I have goin’ on. I wouldn’ do the same to her.”

“Hmm,” Megan hummed out, eyeing him closely for a moment. “I like you, Michael.”

He felt heat rise to his cheeks, his eyes dropping to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Megan slowly begin rising up to her feet, shoving the shower curtain further out of the way.

“Could I ask a favor before you leave?” Megan asked.

Michael looked back up at her, nodding quietly.

“She’s a bit much for me to carry to her bed, you think…maybe you could get her into her bed?” she asked. “Her room is the one just to the left.” She sighed, glancing down at the mess of blood and bloody bandages on the floor. “I’ll need to call off work before I clean all of this up. I just can’t leave her here alone. And I’d rather her in her bed than this tub.”

“I can stay with her,” he said, surprising even himself with the offer.

Megan’s head snapped back over her shoulder at him, one brow rising curiously up onto her forehead. Michael swallowed hard, a nervous smile on his mouth.

“I mean if–if ya’d like,” he added. “It’s no bother. She probably shouldn’ be left alone.”

“I…suppose you two have already shared a night together,” Megan mused aloud, Michael’s cheeks further heating at her blunt comment. “I imagine she wouldn’t mind. But if anything happens to her,” she said, tone firm as her eyes narrowed at Michael, “you’re going to need that gun to protect yourself. Don’t fuck with my sister, Michael Kinsella, or I will come after you.”

He couldn’t help but to chuckle softly at her tenacity, nodding his head as he did. “I assure ya I wouldn’t hurt her, but the threat is duly noted.”

“Good,” she said. “I guess I’ll just clean the blood up in here and–”

“I can get the kitchen sorted for ya,” Michael assured her. “After I get her to her bed.”

As Michael stepped around her, Megan thanked him profusely for his help. But his attention was focused on you as he bent down towards the tub, scooping you up in his arms. You groaned when he lifted you from the tub, your head rolling forward until your face fell against his chest. He felt an ache in his own chest at the sight of you like this. What had happened to put you in such a state of distress? What demons of your own were lurking under the surface and behind your pretty smile?

Megan called out a goodnight which Michael returned as he carried you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom she’d said was yours. He flipped on the light with his shoulder, closing the door just a bit with his foot, and then he carried you over towards the bed. Very carefully he shifted your weight in his arms, twisting his wrist so he could pull back the sheets on your bed while he held you. And then he lowered you gently down onto the mattress, resting your head along the pillow. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment along your cheek. Your expression looked more peaceful now, at least.

He turned, about to reach down and pull the sheets up and over you, but your shirt had ridden up your stomach a bit. He paused at the sight of three long lines visible along your skin. Scars. With how perfect the marks were it looked like they’d been done by a very sharp knife–probably something one used for hunting. Michael’s teeth ground together, anger boiling in his blood. Someone had done that to you, sliced you open like an animal. And that thought had brought forth a fury he didn’t know he possessed for you.

If he ever found out who did that, they were certainly going to hurt.

A sharp exhale blowing out of his nose, he tried to calm that rage inside of himself. Now wasn’t the time. He reached his hands out, gingerly pulling your shirt down to cover yourself and in turn hiding your scars. Grabbing the sheets in a tight grip, he began to pull them up and draw them over your chest–but he paused at the sound of your voice.

“Michael?”

The tension in his shoulders instantly dissipated, his grip even loosening on the blankets. His eyes found their way to your face, though you didn’t look quite fully there. The alcohol was clearly still very much in your system.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, smiling down at you. “‘S’me.”

He continued what he’d been doing, gently tucking the blanket around your shoulders. Your brows drew together in confusion as you lay there watching him.

“What–what happened?” you slurred.

“Ya drank a bit too much, Grace,” he answered. “Ya must’ve broken a bottle. Cut yourself on the glass. Your sister is cleanin’ up some of the mess but she needs to get back to work so I–I offered to keep an eye on ya. Clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

He didn’t know what had compelled his hand to slide up from the sheets, coming to affectionately cup your cheek as you gazed up at him. And he didn’t quite know why his thumb had so gently stroked your cheek when you’d pressed back into his palm.

“I’ll let ya rest,” he whispered. “Check on ya in a bit.”

His hand slid from your face and he turned to go, but he’d felt your fingers fumbling to grasp at his wrist. Stopping, he glanced back over his shoulder at you. His heart broke at the sight of fear so plainly written on your face.

“Please stay,” you begged, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m–I’m scared. And I don’t want to be alone.”

Michael turned on the spot instantly, his hand twisting in your weak grip until he’d caught your wrist. Slowly he lowered himself to sit at the edge of your bed, his hand drawing your bandaged one up towards himself. He lightly pressed his lips against your knuckles, the kiss lingering for a moment before he finally pulled away. His thumb tenderly stroked over the bandages on your hand, a comforting smile on Michael’s face as he gazed down at you.

“I’ll stay with ya, pet,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about anythin’. I got ya now.”

#michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella #kin fanficiton #kin amc

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funkyyusername · 2 months ago

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okay i've decided to make a more organized review on the flipside with my own personal reviews on each ending cuz ik tumblr loves the opinions of some random girl. spoilers for flipside ofc, if u care idc

the fucking slave ending: this was the one ending that i like passionately hate. because like, what?? first the story felt NOTHING like a class of 09 game, it felt like this weird episodic story with a twist end that was only there for the shock and emo factor. like i actually prefer if they had killed jecka instead of SELLING HER TO GODDAMN SLAVERY. literally this entire route is just, girls want paycheck, girls go to porn store, old school counselor gives them fuck up riddle completely occ for class of 09, girls find porn warehouse, counselor kills one girl, fbi sells the other. literally what?? that is some weird fucked up excuse of a story that was lowkey boring until the porn warehouse shit. felt like a goddamn scoobydoo episode with a poorly written edgy twist. also kelly was just boring as shit sorry kelly fans i snored. 0/10

drunk driving ending: this also felt not like a class of 09 ending but it was like slightly better bc black hair jecka was cool. i didn't know what to expect with this ending but i didn't think goddamn ARI would die. i kept forgetting about ari during this run. like yeah they make fun of her once and then bring her up again when jecka tries to get a job but like, that's it. maybe i'm remembering wrong but when another character is involved with an ending they usually include that character more. in the reup the suicide pact ending was like emily heaven. both ari endings had ari show up a bunch and have her gay awaken be like important to the story and constantly brought up. this one just, eh. it's not bad but like, eh. seeing ari's dead body was more of a jumpscare. like "ah! i forgot about her. wait why is she here again? oh right dominos." just felt off. 3/10

feet ending: okay first why feet? and why so many goddamn cut scenes with jecka stepping on people. like i get it move on. anyway so nicole's betrayal was..something. it's weird cuz it does feel like something nicole would do...to like someone she hates. the megan ending in the reup happened bc nicole was tired of megan being like a bitchy stuck up bossy bitch. but also like nicole never even liked megan. and like i get that nicole got pissed cuz jecka wouldn't let her join her feet empire but like, that's so minor. i feel like what would make more sense is nicole being like "fuck u i don't need u" and building her own feet empire, one up-ing jecka and making her lose her place, kinda like the OD ending. but nicole only doing it do jecka's dad? i mean i dunno. i get nicoles evil and whatever but also nicole likes jecka. or at least liked her enough to get the counselor off her back in the reup, liked her enough to buy tickets for the two of them to go to a concert, liked her enough to like, not tell her to fuck off and die. nicoles evil but she still LIKED jecka. for something like that i feel like nicole and jecka would have needed a much more dramatic falling out, not just, being mad for getting feet fomo. 4/10

OD ending: okay so admittedly what nicole did to jefferfy felt in character for both nicole and the game. how nicole treated jecka when she threaten her if she called the police felt in character to nicole. it was overall not that bad of an ending, but i found myself being more interested in nicoles pov than jeckas, which is upsetting bc this is literally jecka's game. nicole was the highlight of jeckas own game. ironic. 6/10

nicole suicide ending: the one ending i actually liked. this felt like an actually class of 09 ending, it gave insight to wtf jecka was going through before during and after nicoles nice girl turned suicide ending. jecka suffering just as much as nicole, almost mirroring nicole was really interesting. the scene where jecka is begging to hang out with nicole. where she tells nicole she "doesn't have to do anything," in which nicole responds back with "you don't have to date your teacher." jecka finding nicole fucking dead body. and even after nicoles death jeckas still suffering, bc she really was the only one who cared for nicole. it actually felt real and actually made sense. all the suffering jecka goes through here made sense for the plot and didn't just feel like it was making jecka suffer for the sake of suffering. it was just a very interesting take on nicoles suicide ending. not really funny, but still was an appealing story. 8/10

#class of 09 game #class of 09 flipside #review/rant/idk man #local tumblr girl talks about her opinions

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thebaddesbit · 22 days ago

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You’re my grotesquerie

Chapter 1 - Reminiscing

(Dr Charlie x Lois) 2,072 words

Peeking into one of the rooms, the woman in the bed slept peacefully. Charlie approached her, caressing her face. "Hey Lois, I see your flowers are a little dehydrated" he spoke as if she could hear him.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room was the beeping noise of the heart monitor, a good sign that Lois was still with them.

cracking open the water bottle, he poured half of it into the vase. "I have got to get you some new ones. I know how much you hate peonies. It's sad how much your own husband doesn't know about you"

There were countless amount of times Lois had stumbled into the hospital, drunk and in the worst conditions. She told him that she worked the best drunk, he rolled his eyes upon hearing that. Charlie made sure that he treated every cut, bruise, and gouge on her body as delicately as he could manage.

He also always made sure to give her a little lolipop for her cooperation once they were done, knowing how much she disliked being treated like a child by her doctors. Charlie loved seeing her roll her eyes once he pulled a sucker out of the little jar that he kept on his desk for the little kids, it puts a smile on his face.

"You know you don't have too, im not a child" She still took the candy with a 'thank you', giving him a side hug. He inhaled her sweet scent. A cold, empty feeling, consumed him as she walked out of his office.

(Lois smells like into the night from b&bw btw)

During those times Lois was seeing him, they developed a small bond of some sort, with her telling him a lot of stuff about her self and her personal life.

For one he knows that Lois's favorite flowers were carnations, she hated peonies because they brought back bad memories. He looked at those sad, withering peonies sitting in its vase. He should toss those in the trash, it's not like she would really want them anyway.

She told him about how she truly felt about her husband. she couldn't really stand him all that much after her daughter, Merritt was born.

"His true colors showed after that, he met this chick at one of his lectures ~ name was Redd, Did I tell you he was a professor?" Charlie shook his head no. "He taught Psychology, philosophy, something like that."

"Well shit, the only thing he ever taught me was to never let my guard down too easily. All he had to do was take me out once or twice after we met and that was it, I was in 'love'." Lois made air quotes using her fingers.

"We spent 20 years together, had a beautiful baby girl, and bought a house. Now the only thing that goes on inside that house is arguing and keeping secrets in places where love and comfort used to be".

Charlie grabbed a cloth and some rubbing alcohol, pouring some on the cloth. "now this might hurt, but I need to disinfect it" he warned her before pressing it on the bad cut Lois had on her side, she hissed at the burning sensation. "Can you tell me how you got this?" He asked, applying pressure to it.

"The perp got me while I was investigating a scene, the motherfucker came out of nowhere ~ Shit!" Lois's voice was strained, She gripped his free hand, he rubbed circles on her palm with his thumb to calm her down, Like he did with other patients might he add!

"And you wanna know the worst part about it!?"

"Yea amuse me"

"my coworker, Megan, you met her Im pretty sure, the girl with the straight honey blonde hair? Anyways, she saw him cut me and just stood there, in shock. How are you supposed to call yourself a detective when you can't even properly react in a situation like that. That's something you're supposed to be prepared for before you even get the job!" She started panicking, the pain went from a 0 to an 100 real fast,

"Oh my gosh! I gotta sit down Charlie, I feel like I'm gonna pass out" He stopped what he was doing and helped her onto the-

( mat bed thingy? Idk what those things are called yall get it tho😭😭)

"There you go Lois, you're doing great" she gave him a really? Look

"You make me feel like a child, you know that?" She replied, holding the cloth on her side while Charlie went over to his desk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way" Charlie opened a pack of clean needles, and grabbed some thread from out one of the drawers "Gonna stitch you up real quick. Now this part is really gonna hurt, but im certain you can handle it"

Lois chuckled "I barely handled the last part"

"you did way better than anyone else that came in here to get stitches, I remember getting bit really bad the last time"

"Really now?"

"Yea I contemplated handing in my badge and walking out right then and there" he put the thread in the needle

"I know that child got their ass whooped when they got home, I know I would've"

"Oh no, it was a grown woman. Now I usually like getting bit, but not that hard, I almost had to get stitches myself"

"You like getting biiiitt? Can I bite you?" Lois said flirtatiously.

"Maybe"

"Ok don't move, Im gonna try to do this as quick as possible" he added, getting on his knees so he could access the cut a little better.

He pierced her with the needle which made her jump, he almost fucked up and ripped her skin. "Lois you gotta stay still, umm tell me something else about yourself"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, I usually rely on you to start the conversation, you're very intriguing"

"You mean Im very strange and dramatic" she corrected him.

"Strange in a good way."

"Well thank you. I don't know what to talk about...

She paused to think and take a sip of her drink, he tried to get her to put it down numerous of times, telling her that she couldn't have alcohol in here and reminding her that alcohol was the reason she was in here in the first place. Alcohol made her clumsy and she knew it, but instead of putting the flask down, she took another sip.

"If alcohol's a one way ticket to see you again, so be it" She tilted the flask towards him him when she said that. Charlie rasied his eyebrows in shock, almost "A-are you flirting with me?" He paused mid stitching.

"Nah Im just playing with you. You're a little too young for me, sweetie." He hummed in acknowledgment, a little disappointed.

"Oh did I tell you about my daughter, Merritt?" Her voice strained again, he rubbed those little circles onto her other thigh which got her to settle down a bit.

"Probably"

"So her husband, Ed and I, One night- and I still feel terrible about it to this day, one night we were up drinking, and got a bit carried away. A-and we screwed to say the least.

Oh....

"Did she ever find out?"

"Yea she came home to me, you know.... giving it to him, and thats when I found out they were together. She resents me for that and another thing. Merritt wants to gain weight, right?, there's nothing wrong with that. But 170 something pounds in just 3 months was very concerning, it disgusted me at first, and I told her how I felt."

"Well-

"Now before you get to judging, I didn't know Ed and her were dating until after that night, and I also want to say that what I said about her weight gain is eating me alive to this day, both of those things are, really"

"you know, Im not the one you need to convince, right?"

"I know, I know. Im just asking you not to judge me for that, I've apologized countless times and Im giving her space." She said. He nodded, making the last stitch, softly so it wouldn't cause her as much pain.

Charlie couldn't bring himself to judge Lois for something like that, after all, he wasn't exactly a goody two shoes himself. Yea what Lois did was bad. but frankly he did worse. He was a murderer and in some instances a cannibal, which was much more terrible than something as simple as adultry.

"I could never judge you, Lois" He said, finally closing the cut.

"alright all done" Charlie helped her up, carefully so she didn't pop her stitches. She held onto his shoulder for dear life, her leg was killing her and she was just ready to go to bed. She walked.. well waddled towards the door.

"Oh wait" he stopped her before she could get to the door. Reaching in the candy jar. She rolled her eyes, a smirk formed on her face as she took the green Sucker from his hand, her favorite flavor. "Almost forgot" he smiled.

"Thanks Charlie" she gave him another side hug, him taking in her sweet scent once again, her hugs made him feel warm inside. "You're welcome, see you later Lois". It was always a later, no matter how careful Lois was when at these crime scenes, or really anywhere. She would always end up back in Dr Charlie's office with something wrong with her.. something he needed to fix.

"Alright now, you take care" Lois said before she walked out, grabbing her purse off the counter before she left, the familiar empty feeling returned. and he longed for her, even if she was just a few steps away...

Sad that was the last time he would be able to see her, the last time she spoke to him for a while.

(The patient waiting for Charlie to stop fucking reminiscing:💀)

"Sleep tight Lois" Charlie turned off the lights in the room, waking out to find his patient that he ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT!

he opened the door to room 104, a Young blonde girl laid in the bed, also in a coma. A small red spot could be spotted on the covers, he pulled it back to reveal a large puddle of blood coming from the girls... regions.

Fuckkk just another thing to deal with. He groaned, going to grab some clean bedding, gloves, wipes, and a diaper...

whilst he was searching for those items, he saw the light to Lois's room on. Someone was obviously in there.. part of him wanted to take a quick peek, but he shook that urge off and grabbed the stuff he needed. He'll check on her later.

Charlie was in a rush today so he immediately got to work cleaning the girl up after changing her sheets. He saw what looked like a small tear in her regional area. "Damm, what happened there" He opened her up a little bit more so he could see better, "it's just a small one, should heal in a couple days" Charlie thought as he reached into the drawer next to the bed, feeling around until he found what he needed, a small tube of ointment that should help the healing process.

After slathering that all over the tear, he put a diaper on her, and tossed the bloodied gloves into the nearby trash. Turning the lights out before he left the room.

He needed to go into his office and get some stuff done before his new patient arrived for their appointment.

"What the hell!?" Charlie heard some commotion going on in Lois's room and rushed to her door. Two people were arguing about something he couldn't pick up on.

"NO YOU'RE NOT, STOP!" her daughter, Merritt yelled at her father. Tears starting to bubble at the corner of her eyes.

"Is everything alright in here!?" He interrupted, Lois's husband, Marshall turned to him, a furious look on his face.

"I WANT TO SIGN THE PAPER WORK TO HAVE HER UNPLUGGED!" he pointed to Lois...

WHAT!?.....

#charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #niecy nash #lois tryon #grotesquerie #ao3 fanfic #writters on tumblr #fanfic #hulu #fx

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cr33pz-mck3nna · 9 days ago

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About my..Toby!

My Toby has so far kept his original name, Tobias Erin Rogers, but things are different. Tobias was born the middle child of 3 and was the favorite of his mother, something his younger sister Bethany resented him for, as for his father well he only considered Lyra to be one of his children as he felt more than one was "unnecessary". Mr Rogers, or better known as Clint Rogers, was the police chief and a known drinker and nasty drunk, as for his wife, Elaine Rogers, she was mainly a stay at home mother having given up on her personal dreams the moment she met Clint. Toby wasn't the only one of his siblings born with a mental or physical disability, Lyra has been Schizophrenic practically since she was fresh out the oven though she is medicated and Bethany was born half blind(her glasses be thicker than megan thee stallion-), with the worst immune system known to human kind and was mute for the first five years of her life. Clint only pays for Lyra's medication so Elaine winds up using most of her monthly allowance to pay for Toby's medication and psychiatrist along with Beth's medical bills aka why she is rarely seen with new things unless it's after Christmas or her birthday. Toby had many pets growing up as one thing Clint was a sucker for was animals, Lyra also pulled her "I'm his favorite" card alot to get her siblings the things they wanted. Lyra started working at 14 years old to get Toby and Beth the stuff their father never would and their mother never could. Toby's favorite pet was his cat Butch(named after the one from Tom and Jerry bc he looked like him), after he became a killer he adopted two cats in memory of Butch, Toodles and Tom. Toby is NOT a proxy and finds anyone calling him that a borderline insult, he just crashes with the dude, get it right. Toby = Daddy issues so as much as he claims to HATE Slenderman he has cried(in private ofc bc his sexist father passed down the "men don't cry" bullshit) before over the fact that he's Slenders favorite and how Slender practically gives him the fucking world- Toby is closest to Kate, Jane and Clockwork as each one, for different reasons, reminds him of his mom. Toby is low-key scared of Tim because he reminds him of his father, especially when he drinks, leading to many a fight, Tim sees Toby alot like Jay though and honestly cares for the kid(that being his nickname for him). This boy is self concious and self destructive AS FU- His tourettes aren't as bad as in the original, mainly being stress and trauma triggered, happy Toby means he will be running his mouth off stutter free for HOURS, just don't point it out to him or they'll start up again. Kinda same with his tics, they usually only happen now if he's stressed, upset or angry. Toby's tics and tourettes were much worse before he met Slender. Toby may have CIPA which makes him unable to feel physical pain or the temperature but he can still feel things he touches and no it doesn't effect his personality and emotions like in canon, in fact Toby is an empath and as much as he cannot physically feel the universe made up for it by making him able to practically feel the emotions of everyone around him, aka why his room is further away from anyone else's at Slenders place and why he usually prefers to live in his cabin or his truck. Toby doesn't consider himself a serial killer, he hates them in fact, he rathers the title "assasin" or "hired hitman". Toby works with Jane and Nina alot, having their own little hitman alliance.

Yo I'm getting tired y'all but this can be a part one if y'all want more, also I would be up to doing a relationship version of this telling what it would be like to date him. Gn my lovely little Gremlins -Creepz

(side note: this was not properly proofread as it's about 1am and I can't see clear for shit without my glasses-)

#ticci toby #my version #creepypasta #creepypasta au #fanfic #headcanon #my au #don't like don't read #don't like don't interact

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cyarskj1899 · 4 days ago

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and you know what I don’t blame her

I haven’t forgiven him ever since he did this and I’m so glad that Kendrick Lamar not only beat him but also humiliated him and songs like “not like us “ exist in this timeline (heck i wouldn’t be surprised if it ends up on this year’s edition of my #spotifywrapped, coming in mid late November, check your postings)

Aubrey Drake Graham, how freaking dare you call somebody who’s been abused and proving to be abused a liar and a B word and also calling undeserved freedom for her abuser? Does this beige bastard know that his prison boyfriend has a history of violence against others?

Like I heard through the grapevine that during his adolescence, he used to steal from people and be a menace to others not just in his home country of Canada, but also in Florida(yes he was technically a typical Florida man, I mean, he grew up in Florida, but still) and that’s the man you want free, I mean, he nearly killed somebody, and you want a guy like him back to society? For real?

a guy like Tory should not be ever released into society, until he deported back to Canada, where he belongs.

Not to mention, well, he’s advocating for the freedom of his little boyfriend, he should have known that midget was even worse than I thought, at least according to the documentary he was preying on her vulnerability and her grief from the start, she going through a horrible time, and he took advantage of her . That is absolutely disgusting and just flat out wicked

Basically Drake was defending someone who took advantage of someone who was going through the darkest time of her life with the loss of her mother and her grandmother.

that’s why megan kept getting drunk , for her turning to alcohol was form of a coping mechanism, that was her way to forget her mom's passing and that midget manipulated and used HER , its giving predatory and it’s giving rape.

Most rapists would wait until their potential victim is at her most vulnerable and they strike, and when a victim is drunk, especially too drunk to partake in any form of sexual consent, that’s a victim is definitely vulnerable because the predator can use a manipulate him or her into having relations, knowing that the victim is too drunk to consent.

Megan was drunk, depressed, and grieving because she’s going through the loss of her parents and grandmother . she was orphaned He’s a fucking predator, and his supporters were playing the harlot for him. Like you were supporting a freaking attempted murderer and a Rapist?!??!!!!!!!

and Drake was like: free my boy he didn’t do anything wrong. yes he did, even if he didn’t shot Megan he was on probation he should’ve never had a gun in the first place, talk about a preventable bad situation, turning into a preventable and even worse situation.

anyone who takes advantage of someone who is vulnerable especially when they are currently in grief over a loss of loved one, is no different than a sadist. And the fact that people like Tory exist pisses me off.

and here’s the real kick in the bollocks for me: The fact she became friends with him because he brought up he also lost his mother he targeted her and uses his mothers death as a way to manipulate a trauma bond and then he ended up harming, abusing and tormenting her for nearly 5 freaking years, really got me very angry, I am outraged that live in society where people can take advantage of people, especially when they’re at the lowest and vulnerable moments and not give a flying crap about that.

But that’s Aubrey’s Man though. That’s his boyfriend , who is the prisoner girlfriend for the next 10 years(well actually eight years, but who’s really counting), because no prisoner likes a man who will harm a woman.

GOD I FEEL SICK with a blistering rage.

I honestly hate both of them drake and Tory. I’m glad Drake had the worst 2024 ever, and I hope 2025 is not even better for him. I hope they both get deported

Thanks Megan for not just surviving but thriving and thank Kendrick for making an iconic diss track that makes a predator and colonizer uncomfortable

#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#This whole case had me changing my opinions and views(at least for the moment)#celebrating the police and the system #being xenophobic towards Canadian people #posting stories with reader plus white celebrities with fluffy or smutty material #nearly being racist towards black men #saying that some of them nigcels deserved to be another hashtag #and backing the death penalty.#megan thee stallion #i’m not sad for her #i’m outraged #i’m just glad she’s in a better place now #those people can speak for themselves they know who they are #and they can go straight to hell #they will pay for their crimes #for sucking that abusers meat #Instagram #As always a loud and sincere fuck you to everyone who has doubted her and supported that Canadian cuntery who must not be named #She went through unnecessary trauma for two years #That’s unforgivable #Next level fuckery #That that type of ish that would lead to an episode of snapped or deadly women #once again #🖕🏿daystar Peterson #annnnn boom #just like that #may all who come against black women rot #Don’t fuck with black women #If you can’t love them then at least don’t harm them #can’t wait to see that sociopath locked up on August 7th.

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bellysoupset · 2 years ago

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Ok so absolutely no pressure but I’d literally die to see Bella freaking/spiralling about the breakup as well. Like. Working too hard and getting sick or showing up at someone’s house in the middle of the night with a fever? Love your writing :)

I am very purposefully keeping Bella out of the main focus, but this was too tempting to pass!

---------

"What do you think?" Wendy asked loudly so Vince could hear her, even though her phone was sitting on her dresser. She twirled so her sequined skirt flared out.

"I think you look good enough to eat," Vince answered and she opened a large smile, walking back to the phone.

"Thanks," she fixed her bra strap, "see you tomorrow for lunch?"

"If you're not hungover to hell," he snorted, "have fun, honey."

"I will, thank you," she sent him a lipstick kiss and Vince smiled, sending her a kiss back, but not before yelling.

"But not too much fun!"

Wendy rolled her eyes as she hung up the call and put on her heels. It had been a while since she had been out with her friends, an even longer while since they had gone dancing. She was beyond excited.

She met her friends outside the club, in the queue. Barbie and Megan were both clad in equally sparkly clothes and make up and they squealed and waved as Wendy turned the corner, in order for her to spot them.

"I'm so happy you came!"

"Finally, after holing up in that hospital all day" Megan hugged her tightly, "let's get fucked up."

She had met them in college, but clicked immediately, much like Jonah. Barbie was an engineering student and Megan a gastronomy one. Wendy had met Babs first, only meeting Megan via her, but never did the other two make her feel like a third wheel.

They kept small talk flowing non stop during the queue, updating each other on their lives. Barbie could drown out any noise with how loud her giggling was, much to the other two's amusement.

Then finally it was their turn and they handed in the tickets, alongside their IDs, before getting colorful bracelets with QR codes on them, "have fun girls."

Like anyone who had ever been to an EDM club, they knew they had to pick drinking first. Three shots in and Wendy found herself sandwiched between her two friends, dancing to a remix of Dancing Queen by ABBA.

Barbie twirled her around, giggling when Wendy twerked and slapping her ass with a obnoxious, "work it girl!"

They went in for another round of drinks and then back to the dancing floor, Megan already considering removing her heels, while Barbie had a girl be all over her. Wendy raised her arms to the beat, swaying from side to side, when she opened her eyes and saw a familiar face.

A mane of red curly hair that she'd recognize anywhere, even though they didn't see each other all that much.

"Is that Bella?"

"Who!?" Megan yelled back and Barbie was too enthralled with the girl who was flirting with her to hear.

"I'll be right back!" Wendy yelled, squeezing Megan's hand and pushing through the crowd.

It was Bella.

Bella, clad in a deep red dress that left very little to imagination, back pressed to some guy's chest who could not keep his hands to himself and was tugging on the hem of her dress as he pressed her ass to his crotch.

Wendy raised both her eyebrows. Wow.

"Bella?" she yelled, despite common sense telling her that the ginger was busy and she should give her space.

Bella opened her eyes, painted in black makeup, and then they twinkled as she smiled, "Wendy!" and moved away from the guy in order to tackle Wendy in an overly affectious hug that was nothing like the girl, "Hi!"

"Hi, how... How are you?" Wendy tried to peel her back, but Bella was taller and stronger.

"Uhm, you smell so nice... Is Vince here?" then Bella did pull back, her drunk happy smile vanishing and giving space to a panicked frown, "Oh no, is Vince here?"

"No," Wendy shook her head, cringing as she realized Bella was nervous over being caught, even though she wasn't doing anything wrong, "who's your friend?"

"Uh, he-" Bella frowned at the guy. He was handsome, Wendy had to give her that, in the most sleazy fuckboy fashion, but handsome nonetheless. He also reminded her a fucking lot of Lucas, with the mop of brown hair and green eyes, "what's your name again?"

"It's Jack," the guy smiled, grabbing Bella by the waist, "let's get out of here?"

Wendy shook her head, alarm bells ringing as she noticed Bella stumbling into his arms, "sorry, pal, she's not going anywhere. C'mon, Bell, I wanna introduce you my friends."

"What are you? Her mother?" Jack rolled his eyes, tugging on Bella's wrist, "let's go."

"I don't think-" Bella slurred, seeming more than a little confused by the fight, "you can stayyy, let's meet Wen's friends."

Wendy opened a victorious smile, "yes, let's-"

"No, let's have some alone time-" Jack grabbed Bella's face in his hands, planting a kiss over lips, "uHm? You were having fun..."

"But Wendy is here now," Bella mumbled, shoving his chest, or trying to, "I don't think- Don't think it's a good idea..."

"Don't be dumb-"

"Let go of her," Wendy scoffed, shoving his arm with all her force. It was a little ridiculous, considering Jack was very tall and built, while Wendy herself was chubby and short as hell, even in heels, but he wasn't expecting her to practically body tackle him.

He let go of Bella, glaring at Wendy and then at her, "you're such a bitch."

"Yeah yeah, go stick your dick in a waste disposal," Wendy raised her middle finger, before grabbing Bella's hand in hers and tugging the ginger back to where her friends were.

Megan had moved from the middle of the dancing floor, with Barbie right next to her, except Babs was pressed against the counter kissing the blonde girl who had been flirting with her.

"What the fuck was that?" Megan asked, clearly referring to the scene she had watched from afar, "and who the fuck is this?"

"This is Bella," Wendy shoved Bella sitting down at a bar stool and the ginger groaned at being manhandled, but was drunk enough to go easily, "she's sticking with us tonight."

"Okay," Megan raised her eyebrows in a judgmental manner, before looking sweetly at Bella, "hi Bells, I'm Meg. This is-" she poked Barbie's ribs to force her apart from the blonde, "is Barbie."

"Hii..." Bella smiled, waving, "hi Barbie."

"Hi!" Barbie grinned, "where do I know you from?"

"No idea," Bella frowned, hugging her stomach, "Is Vince here?" she asked again to Wendy, fanning herself and Wendy shook her head.

"He's not here, none of the guys are," she reassured her, noticing that under the makeup Bella was actually quite pale. She sighed, "Bells, are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," she punctuated it with a hiccup, "I'm fine... I- It's twirling."

"She's definitely gonna blow," Megan said and Wendy scoffed.

"You think? Help me get her to the bathroom- Barbie you're coming with, stop sucking face!" Wendy bossed and together all four women stumbled into the bathroom, Bella sandwiched between Megan and Wendy.

They lowered her in front of the toilet and Wendy pulled on her long red curls, stopping them from getting covered in the mess, "there you go, get it up."

"I'm not-" Bella belched wetly over the water, "I'm not sick..."

"No, of course not," Megan said sarcastically, while Babs squinted at Bella, clearly still trying to place her.

"I'm not," Bella insisted and then gagged, "Ugh- It's just...twirling-"

"Oh! You're the captain's girlfriend, aren't you!?" Barbie exclaimed, "Luke's!"

"Aw fuck-" Bella answered her and then her shoulders hitched with a violent heave and she threw up a large stream of nothing but liquid. Wendy cringed at the strong smell of alcohol.

"Geez, Bell, how much did you drink?" she groaned, flushing the toilet, while Megan patted her back in a friendly manner, ushering the rest up.

"It burns..." Bella groaned, hanging over the bowl, struggling to breathe, "hurts..."

"I know, get it up, you'll be fine soon..." Megan said and Wendy bit down a smile. Of all three of them, Megan was the one who held her liquor the best, so it wasn't like she'd actually know.

Barbie cringed, gagging softly in her hand, big blue eyes wide, "should we call someone...? Her boyfriend?"

"He's not-" Bella gagged again, "he's not my fucking boyfriend!"

"Oh you and Luke brok-

"Babs," Wendy interrupted, widening her eyes, "get Bella a bottle of water?"

"Sure," Barbie made a sympathetic face, "feel better, Bella..."

As if answering her Bell groaned loudly and heaved again, this time bringing up more than just pure liquid and coughing. The music outside drowned most of the noise, but Wendy could swear she heard the next gurgle before Bella was once again shuddering forward, bringing up even more.

"How do you have so much inside of you?!" Megan groaned, turning her face, "you're skinny!"

Wendy couldn't help but chuckle, rubbing Bella's naked back, "you're almost done."

"He fucking-" Bella pulled back and Wendy reached for the toilet paper, which Megan passed her a bunch of towels of. She cleaned Bella's mouth and chin, while her friend flushed the toilet again, "fucking gave me this awful ring."

"Awful?" Wendy humored her, although she already knew about the proposal. Over Bell's shoulder, Megan leaned in, actually interested.

"Horrid," Bella leaned back against Megan, hugging her stomach, "with this-" she burped sickly against her hand, before trying to describe the ring, "big diamond and a bunch of pink rocks around it-"

Oh Lucas had fucked up bad, Wendy thought, while Megan frowned, moving her arms to hold Bella in them in a less awkward manner.

"Your guy proposed? That seems like a perfectly good ring-"

"Not to me!" Bella groaned, shaking her head, "I hate pink, he knows that- He-"

"He proposed out of nowhere in public and then broke up with her when she said no," Wendy cleared up quickly, all in one breath in hopes that Bella didn't quite catch that.

Megan whistled, letting out a scoff, "what a piece of work."

"Found the water!" Barbie beamed, walking back into the bathroom. She too crouched down in the bathroom floor, no thoughts to the fact it was a public bathroom floor and unscrewed the cap, "what did I miss?"

"Bella's ex is a jerk," Megan said and Bella agreed, chugging down the water.

"The worst."

"He cheated?" Barbie's eyes widened and Wendy groaned, but thankfully didn't have to answer that, as Bella immediately regretted drinking the cold water so fast, lurching over the toilet again.

"No, he dumped her because he's a manbaby" Meg explained and Bella groaned loudly, head buried in the bowl.

"Don't call him that..." she belched again, bringing up a smaller wave of vomit and straightening up. This time it was Wendy who caught her, struggling to hold the girl.

"Fuck, you're heavy-" Wendy struggled not to fall on her ass on the disgusting ground, "girls? A hand?!"

Together they helped Bella up and away from the toilet, holding her over the sink while Barbie washed her face.

"There you go!" Barbie smiled brightly, the sunshine person that she was, even though all she had managed to do was melt Bell's mascara down her cheeks, "do you feel better?"

"A little," Bella nodded, taking a small, cautious sip of the water, "sorry-"

"Noo, don't be sorry," Barbie pouted, while Megan agreed, Wendy smiling at her.

"Yeah, it's fine. You're ready to go?"

Bella nodded, while Megan made a face, "Wen, I don't think you can handle her on your own, she's really tall-"

"It's fine, I'm not that drunk..." Bella rubbed a hand over her face, "puking helped."

"See," Wendy grinned, victorious, "I'll see you two tomorrow at the mall, don't forget it."

"Okay..." Barbie threw an arm around Bella, hugging her, "feel better, Bella."

The ginger seemed completely taken back by the kindness display, blue eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, "thanks..."

"You could come tomorrow" Megan said, hugging her too, "we're going to watch a movie and shop."

"I... I will think about it..."

"Let's go," Wendy waved her friends goodbye, taking Bella's hand in hers and guiding her out of the bathroom and through the crowd.

Once she grabbed her purse at the front desk and they paid for the drinks, Wendy leaned against a street lamp, waiting for their Uber.

Bella seemed to be coming back to herself, the aloof personality, the shame hitting her full force. She wiped the black marks down her cheek and groaned, "that was... That was a mess."

Wendy shrugged, "I've seen worse. Hell, I've done worse."

"Really?" Bella hugged herself, pouting, "because that seemed like rock bottom to me."

"No, rock bottom would be if you had gone home with that asshole and then promptly puked all over him and still had to fuck the guy despite wanting to die."

Bella raised her eyebrows, mouth hanging open, "did you... Did you-"

"I didn't fuck the guy in my case, but he heavily implied it, yes," Wendy rolled her eyes, "you're fine."

"Thanks..." Bella shivered, it was a really cold night and her teeny tiny dress wasn't made for it, "I feel like an asshole."

"What for?"

"Barbie is on the cheer team, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Wendy chuckled, "so that's where she knows you from."

"I hated the cheer team," Bella scoffed, cheeks flushed, "I was so jealous of him around them. All beautiful and girly and bubbly- Sounds pretty fucking pathetic now."

"A little," Wendy admitted, "lucky you Babs doesn't hold grudges."

"Lucky me," Bella nodded, not sounding like she felt even the least bit lucky, "How... How is he?"

"We're not doing this," Wendy shook her head, "fuck Lucas."

The ginger let out a surprised chuckle, nodding, "I guess..." she stared ahead, "I really fucking miss him, Wendy..."

"Oh honey," Wendy sighed and pulled her for a hug, only for Bella to crumble against her. She wondered if anyone had bothered to check on Bella since. Had anyone hugged her?

"I keep- I keep thinking that if I had said yes-"

"No," Wendy interrupted, tiptoeing to kiss her temple, a difficult task with Bella wearing heels, "don't go there. You did the right thing, you're twenty three. You have no intentions of marrying right now-"

"It's not that I don't love him, I just- He knew I never wanted any of this and then he went and did it anyway and he-" she choked up, "and I still love him!"

Wendy squeezed her harder, rubbing Bella's arm, "I know, I'm sorry..."

"Can this... Stay between us? Could you not tell Vince?"

"I'm not," Wendy agreed, hugging her harder, "it's just between us girls."

"Thanks Wen-"

"And you should totally come tomorrow. I'm sure you could use getting out of the dorms," she looked at Bella sternly, "this is not a friendly suggestion."

Bella chuckled, nodding, "yeah, alright..."

#jo march meme: WOMEN!!!#drunk #alcohol #sickfic #emetophilia #emeto #isabella martinez #mywriting

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