#the sound that the bag full of bags would make when you opened the pantry door too far and how my neighbor always used to sing when

[totheblood]

superposition. (one)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: you've never been on a date, hell, you've never even kissed anyone. ellie decides to be a good best friend and teach you how! wow.. so kind of her..

warnings: 18+, nearly every chapter will have a somewhat sexual element to it (this one is probably the tamest?), cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint

a/n: i want bff!ellie and that's all... friends to lovers??? fav trope. i hope i do this justice and i hope you guys like it... ai audios at the end as usual

"in every universe, you are my dark star."

You felt like a fucking loser.

Well, you usually felt like a loser, but as you sat on Dina’s couch researching what to wear on a first date you felt absolutely lame. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been asked out on a date before, it’s just that no one you liked had asked you out on a date before. A girl had never asked you out on a date before. But since the cute girl from your chemistry lab had asked you if you wanted to go to dinner with her, you happily agreed.

You were just… inexperienced and although it never bothered you before as you approached the time for your date you were becoming increasingly more nervous. What to wear, what to order, and what to talk about were all things you were not familiar with and you wanted to be, if anything, overly prepared. So you did the only thing you knew how to: Google it. 

Your feet were tucked under your legs as you sat crisscrossed on the couch. From the living room, you could hear Dina and Jesse laughing in the kitchen as they snacked on whatever they had available in their pantry. Ellie was sat at the dining room table with a scale in front of her, measuring and sorting loose flowers into dime bags. This was what a regular Friday night looked like for your friends. It usually ended in Ellie passing around one of her pre-rolls as you watched a shitty movie Jesse had suggested, but tonight you planned to leave early for your date.

As if Ellie could sense the tension rolling off of you from her place at the table, she plopped herself next to you on the couch, startling you from your anxious state. 

“Jesus, fuck-” You looked at Ellie with wide eyes, her green ones staring back and searching your face as if she was analyzing you. “We need to put a bell on you. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I practically stomped over here, it’s not my fault that whatever-” She gestured back and forth between you and your phone. “Is going on with that stopped you from hearing me.” 

You rolled your eyes at her fully knowing she was right but not wanting to give her that satisfaction. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Soooo,” She began, drawing out the sound as she placed her arm behind you on the couch and leaned into you. “What’s got you all nervous today? I swear whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous.”

You groaned, leaning your head back and into Ellie’s arm. You tilted your head slightly to look at her. She looked comfortable in her grey hoodie, her other hand tucked into the pocket. Her eyes were locked on yours and her eyebrows knit together. She was concerned about you. If the reason you were freaking out wasn’t so juvenile you would be eating this up, but instead you just felt guilty. It annoyed you how well she knew you sometimes.

“It’s so stupid, El.” Your voice came out in a whisper almost as if you were telling her a secret. “You’re gonna laugh at me” Her face softened as she offered you a small smile.

“How much do you wanna bet it’s not stupid?” She leaned her head back on the couch, trying to match your posture. “And if I laugh you have full permission to punch me.” 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a second. You knew that she would never make fun of you for freaking out over a date, but that didn’t stop you from being reluctant to say it out loud. 

“I have a date tonight.” When you opened your eyes you scanned her face looking for a hint of a smile, something that would tell you not to stress. Instead, you saw a different emotion flicker over her face, something you couldn’t quite place. Shock? No. Sadness? No. Disappointment? Close enough. It didn’t make much sense to you but as quick as it was there, it was gone.

“And?” She didn’t sound annoyed, but she didn’t sound happy for you. For the first time in your life, you were having a difficult time reading her.

“And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been on a date before.” With your admission, you squinted your eyes causing your nose to scrunch. The reaction you were getting from Ellie was hard to read and you were already beginning to feel extremely embarrassed. When you finally did adjust your vision to look at her she just looked confused.

“Why did I not know you’ve never been on a date?” 

“Cause I never told you.” You laughed, a downturned smile on your face. “Not really the best talking point.” You were trying to lighten the mood but Ellie’s expression never changed.

“I mean, it makes sense.” She casually said. If you were anyone else you may have laughed it off, but the sentence cause a sharp pain in your chest. Your mouth fell open as you gasped and playfully pushed her shoulder.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Her eyes widened as she realized how you took her sentence.

“No, no- fuck. I just mean like you spend all your time with me. You never really talk about anyone, I’m not saying no one would date you cause obviously I know that’s not true, I just mean… I didn’t mean it like that.” She rambled out, a frantic look on her face.

“Damn, Ellie. Tell me how you really felt.” The smile crept back up on her face as she realized you were teasing her.

“So you’ve never been on a date? So what?” She shrugged, trying to steer the conversation back in it’s original direction.

“So I don’t know what to wear, or what to talk about, or howtokiss.” You mumbled the last part of your sentence together hoping she wouldn’t notice, but she was Ellie and she noticed almost everything.

“Wear that pink floral dress you have, the one that makes your boobs look amazing. Talk about yourself, it’s a date, the whole point is to get to know each other. And what was that last thing you said?” When she spoke to you everything she said seemed so casual, but you weren’t like her. You couldn’t brush over the fact that she just told you not only does she know your wardrobe without thinking too much about it, but also makes a note of how you look in them. How your tits look in them. 

“Uhm-” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know how to kiss. I’ve never done it before.” You reluctantly admitted. Again you expected Ellie to laugh at you, but she just stared at you, then your lips. 

“Well, I can show you.” She shrugged, eyes trained on you. Your mouth hung open, unsure of what to do. On one hand, kissing your best friend never seems like a good idea, on the other hand, you could use the practice.

“I mean… now?” You asked, your body heating up in anticipation. She looked completely serious, her lips were a straight line and her body seemed completely calm. She was the complete opposite of you. She slightly got up and leaned over you as she peered into the kitchen, presumably checking for Dina and Jesse. As she sat back down she took another quick glance at your lips. 

“Yeah, now. Just a quick lesson before your date.” She said it matter-of-factly almost as if this would just be a case of a friend helping another friend. Like she was offering to help you move or something. A part of you assumed you were overthinking it. If she was so nonchalant about it, then it must not be a big deal. Right? 

“Yeah, okay. It couldn’t hurt, right?” 

“Don’t think so.” She agreed.

“So, what do I do? Do I just-” You placed your phone on the couch between you before cupping her cheek. Ellie placed her hand that was previously in her pocket over yours and moved your hand down to her thigh before leaning in close to you.

“Just relax, I’ll show you how.” Her voice came out in a whisper that you could feel ghost your lips. You were unsure of when she got so close but you could smell her, feel her short and rapid breaths coming from her nose. If you moved an inch your lips would be on hers, but you decided to let her take control.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as she closed the small gap between your faces and pressed her chapped lips against yours. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you froze, unsure of what to do next. Her hand that was still resting on yours tapped the back of your hand. Almost instinctively you parted your lips and hummed when her tongue tentatively brushed against yours. It almost felt natural, her tongue in your mouth and your hand on your thigh, but as she slowly pulled her face back from you, you suddenly wanted more. 

Your free hand grabbed the back of her head, your lips capturing hers once again. You were fighting to feel her tongue in your mouth again but understood what she wanted when her lips parted. Her hand which had been resting behind your head for a better part of your conversation had made its way down to your waist and gently pulled you into her. Your chests were impossibly close together and every little noise you made caused her to get more and more aggressive. Your whole body was burning and you were attempting to ignore the wetness that was growing at your center, but Ellie just kept going. She guided your hand further up her thigh, humming into your mouth as you brushed your thumb over her inner thigh.

With the hand that was previously trapped in your hair, you steadied yourself with a hand on her shoulder as you pushed her back in an attempt to straddle her. Both your hands had moved. Her hands found their place at the base of your hips and yours were gripping the back of her neck. Her lips felt like fucking magic as she began to suck on your bottom lip. You could feel a tightness in your core, something you were all too familiar with. Your clothed hips ground down on hers, causing her to gasp and break away from you instantly.

“Fuck, fuck. Okay.” She sighed, leaning away from you and gently pushing you away from her. When you got a good look at her her lips were swollen and eyes red and glossy. You wanted to kiss her again, you wanted to relieve the pain you were beginning to feel, but the situation was beginning to set in for you. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before.” She blinked up at you, her hands rubbing at your sides distracting you. Your mind was practically empty. 

“Was I okay?” You asked bashfully, causing her to snort. All she did was lean up and press a kiss to the side of your lips, before pushing you off of her and back onto the couch. 

“You were more than okay, that was-” She stopped herself as she looked at you. Her eyes scanned your face, staying too long on your lips. “I think your date will go great.” Something in her tone seemed solemn, but she had a gentle smile on her face, and her hand was still hoovering the side of your body.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, eyes never leaving her. 

“I should get back to work, and you should go get ready.” She pushed herself off the couch and made her way back to the dining room table, leaving you sitting there licking your lips just for the taste of her. A second after her you got up too, grabbing your bag from the coffee table in front of you. Ellie turned back around to look at you from the table. 

“Wear the dress, and uh-” She stopped to look you up and down. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

ai audios:

[sage-green-matcha]

NEIGHBOR - ETHAN LANDRY 🏙️

When Ethan can’t get enough of the girl next door!

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: SMUT! oral receiving !Fem, Ethan catching you! Switch Ethan kinda? A bit of praise!

A/n: wanted this to be longer but honestly had no energy to finish it :( but I rlly wanted to publish it anyways so here u go!

<3

<3

<3

You sighed at the sound of loud music playing. It was just loud enough to be heard through the wall. Even if the song that was playing was from one of your favorite artists, you just wanted to sleep. You had a big Econ test that you couldn't afford to fail.

You picked yourself up lazily, blanket wrapped around you as you slipped on your loafers. You felt the cold touch your legs, shivering as you walked next door.

You knocked a couple of times, looking up to be met with a familiar face. "Oh uh, Y/n...what are you doing here?" Ethan Landry? You knew him from your Econ class, and also Chad's best friend. You two had been partners for projects a couple times, so to say he was a stranger would be a lie. "Oh uh, hey Ethan. I was wondering if you could turn down your music a bit? I'm trying to sleep" He gulped, feeling immediate guilt for disturbing your sleep.

"Oh, yea..yea! I'm sorry" "Thanks" you smiled. You walked back to your apartment, you didn't know he was your neighbor. You had been living in the small, New York apartment complex for about 6 months. And you hadn't seen him till now. 

It was the same thing for the next couple of days, waking up at night to tell him he was being too loud or his music was making the wall shake. He always apologized, yet he never cared to change his volume before you went over to ask.

Ethan started doing it on purpose. He loved the way you looked when you had just rolled out of bed. It drove him crazy. Tired eyes with the prettiest sleepy voice. You would always wear a baggy teeshirt, no shorts underneath and just a blanket wrapped around you, bare legs.

You struggled to fall asleep, confused at the disappearance of the loud music you had been hearing for the past week. It felt strange but you shook it off, finally able to enjoy a full night's rest without any disruptions.

Or so you'd thought.

You groaned into your pillow as you heard a couple knocks on the door. It was a Friday, and you weren't expecting anyone to come over, especially not at 1 am. You dragged yourself out of bed, not caring about your slippers. You slipped out a yawn as you opened the door, this time Ethan at yours.

"Ethan...hey, what are you doing here?" You rubbed your eyes, the light from the hallway hurting them. "I got locked out of my apartment...I left my keys in class.." you frowned. "Oh no, did you call the landlord?" "He's in New Jersey?" his hands were in his sweats, small and worried frown on his face.

"Uhm, I guess you could stay with me for the night" his heart pumped out of his chest. That's exactly what he hoped you'd say. "Are you sure...? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything" You nodded. "Yea It's fine" you smiled, letting him inside. "Sorry to wake you up again" you shrugged. "Felt weird without your music anyways, I'm kinda getting used to it"

He put down his bag by the couch, watching you walk Into your bedroom to get blankets. He was more than excited. His plan had worked. He had his keys in his bag and had dressed in comfy clothes so he had no problem with having to change.

You plopped down the pile of blankets on the couch, tossing a pillow over to him. He watched as you laid out the blankets for him, placing the other pillow at the end of the couch. "Thanks" He smiled up at you. "No problem, if you want any snacks you can go in my pantry, Tara makes me stack up. And uh, there are drinks in the fridge"

"Thanks, for everything" "Stop thanking me, I'd want you to let me sleep over if I was locked out" you shrugged, turning around to go back to bed. "Night, Ethan" "Goodnight..."

But you weren't having a good night. Tossing in turning in your bed as you felt an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. Warmth gathered in your core and you rubbed your thighs against each other. You knew you couldn't do anything about it, especially not with a guest in the house.

But your pussy was hungry for touch, a pain filled you up. A pain that could only be relieved by touching yourself. You sighed with guilt as you stuck your hand into your panties, rubbing small circles against your sensitive bud. You bit your lip, holding back any small whimpers. You'd die before you'd let Ethan see you like this, yet again you probably wouldn't mind if he walked in on you.

Your movements got faster, a small sloppy moan coming from your mouth. You heard the couch creak, making you pause. "Y/n...you okay in there?" "I'm fine" you answered, melting into the mattress as you pulled out your hand. You were frustrated, almost close to your small orgasm. "You sure?" "I'm Good, Ethan" You heard his footsteps go back to where he originally was, putting your hand back into your panties.

This time you were careful not to make a noise. Only the sound of your wetness was barely heard under the sheets. Your mouth was deep into your pillow, shoving two of your fingers deep into your hole. Your walls tightened around your hand, dripping wet as you thrust your fingers into yourself.

Your mind was clouded, the feeling of your hand on your clit while the other was thrusting hard made you roll your eyes back. You were careful not to make any noise, a tie in your stomach forming. You were so so close, the possibility of getting caught turned you on even more.

What would Ethan think of you? That you're a slut? That you're gross? Or would he rip your legs open and help you out? You felt your legs shake as you pushed towards your orgasm. Frustrating and embarrassment filled you as you heard the door open. You couldn't care less though, you continued to fuck yourself as Ethan walked over.

"Y/n...what are you doing?" Ethan rubbed his eyes, staring at your position. "Oh..." he walked closer to the bed, your head still fucked out as you rubbed small circles against your clit. "You're so dirty..." a small scoff fell from his lips as he peeled the cover off of you, your hands covered in your juices.

"You're not very quiet Y/n" Every time he said your name you wanted to melt. It sounded so good rolling off his tongue. You continued to pump your fingers into yourself, biting your lip with your eyes closed as he watched. You felt so dirty, just like he said.

Your body heated up at his touch, his warm hand gripping your thigh. A whimper escaped your mouth as your movements slowed down, the tie in your stomach seconds away from snapping. "Don't stop, you can do it" his hands held onto your inner thigh, thumb gently rubbing on your skin.

"You look so pretty fucked out" his words shot straight to your core, legs shaking as you felt yourself release onto your fingers. "Wasn't that hard, was it?" Your chest raised with every breath you took, Ethan taking your cum covered fingers into his mouth.

Your breath hitched Ethan, staring into your eyes as he sucked your fingers, letting them out with a "pop" coming from his lips. You didn't think twice before you were on top of him, lips sucking with desperation as his hands ran up your shirt.

You knew this was wrong, but damn it felt so right. The way his hands perfectly grabbed your waist, lips fitting together like a puzzle. He let out a small groan as your knee slipped in between his legs. Feeling his hard boner on your skin.

You deepened the kiss, lowering yourself on top of him as you rubbed against his dick. He let out a small moan, your hands now pulling on the strings of his grey sweats.

"You're such a slut" You pulled away from the kiss, Ethan's lips on your neck. "Yet you're the one that was watching me" "And you're the one that kept going" you melted into him as he pressed down on your clit, still sensitive from earlier.

Your small, whiney sounds turned him on. Thrusting himself against your clit. "Don't be so desperate" you mumbled, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as he made friction. "I could say the same about you" he flipped the two of you over, pushing you up closer against the headboard.

He hovered over top of you, biting down on your lip as you looked up at him with eyes full of desire. You'd never looked as good as you did right there. "Can I go down on you?" You were slightly taken aback but nodded anyways. You had never had a guy ask you, you always had to ask them first. And they always insisted for something in return.

Ethan wasn't like that, he just wanted to pleasure you. Just getting to see your eyes roll back and your cum on his fingers would be enough for him.

He pampered small kisses against your jaw. They got sloppier as he moved down, marking you with his lips all the way to your waist. Ethan looked up at you with sweet eyes. He pulled down your panties, pulling apart your legs. You felt the cold air on your pussy, wetness covering your glistening core. You felt nervousness gather in your stomach, taking a deep breath.

He ran his fingers through your folds, jolting at the feel. You felt so vulnerable with him. He honestly had no idea what he was doing. He had seen it done once. Accidentally walking in on Chad and Tara one night. But besides that, absolutely clueless.

You sensed his confidence start to go down, taking small breaths. "You okay...?" "I uhm, yea...just not too sure how to do this" You just shook your head, smiling before sitting up. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to do anything" his face was soft, running your hand through his hair as he stared with his lips agape.

"No...no it's okay. I want to learn" "yea?" "Mhm," he chewed on his lip, staring back at you with doughy brown eyes. "Just do what feels right. And I'll tell you what feels good, alright?" He nodded, watching as you spread your legs open once again. He swore you were the prettiest person he'd ever seen. And to see you like this got him so flustered.

He ran his finger through your folds once again, collecting the extra cum from your hole. Your body shivered, craving more of his fingers on you. Your breath hitched as you felt his tongue flatten on your clit, biting back your lip as he stared at you.

"Keep going, good" he felt better as you praised him, doing tricks with his mouth on your pussy. His nails dug into the skin of your thighs, the pain proving you with more pleasure. Small whimpers and heavy breaths escaped from your mouth, Ethan lapping and sucking all over your core.

Your mind was cloudy, your back arching as you grabbed onto the bedsheets. "Please please please" Your hands dug into his hair, pushing his mouth closer to your pussy. His nose rubbed against your clit, his tongue deep in your hole. Your stomach pulsed, feeling hot all over your body.

"Fuck, E... I'm gonna cum" you hummed, feeling his fingers quicken on your sensitive clit. He hadn't even pushed his fingers into you and you were about to cum. The way he looked up at you made you moan, staring back through barely open eyes. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, basically suffocating him with your thighs.

He pried your legs apart, shaking and weak as he continued to taste you. You tasted so sweet, the feeling of you on his tongue was addicting. He tried to rub himself against the bed, feeling the pain of his ignored boner get to him.

"Shit…shit" you bit back your bottom lip, body shaking as you felt cum drip from your pussy. Ethan's mouth was wide open, licking all of the cum up like your pussy was an ice cream cone. "Taste so good" You pushed his head away while he licked, too sensitive to continue.

He admired your sweaty face, watching as your chest rose with each heavy breath. "You okay...?" He asked, concerned. "Mhm," you hid your face in the pillow, Ethan coming back up to kiss you. "Was I okay?" You held back a smile, nodding at him.

Your lips connected once again, tasting yourself in his mouth. You got why he wanted more, pushing yourself closer to him. Heavy breaths filled the room, Ethan grabbing your waist before whispering something in your ear. “I didn’t actually…leave my keys” he chewed on his lip, watching as your eyebrows furrowed. “Really? Why’d you lie?” “For this”

You rolled your eyes before kissing him again, his cheeks a light pink as you pulled back. “Fucking creep” your lips formed into a smile, teasing him. “I’m not a creep” “You are, but you know what? It’s kinda hot”

[vxm1tcxre]

“what does it look like”

It looks like garbage bags painted with the muted, slimy, unappealing colors of the food in your pantry. It looks like the silvery sheen left on the water even after you’ve flushed. It looks like shaking fingers with the cuticles chewed off. It looks red. The red of your knuckles, the red of the vessels in your teary eyes, the red of bl00d crusted under your fingernails, the little red steaks that come out of your throat when you’ve abus3d it just a little too much. It looks like piles of dirty dishes and empty wrappers in your room that you move around and stack together to try and make it seem like there’s less than there really is. It looks like hands smeared with snot and tears. It looks like ruined makeup. It looks like half-eaten food that just barely missed the coffee grounds or milk or applesauce next to it in the garbage can.

“What does it sound like”

Gagging. Sobbing. Chewing. Crunching. Boiling. Sizzling. The crinkle of wrappers. The hum of the microwave, the opening of the fridge door or the creak of the pantry that lets you know you’re back here again. Screaming but only inside your head, screams no one can hear, screams you lock behind your slowly-r0tting teeth. Silence. The silence after you’re done with the b1ng3 or you’re done with the pvrg3 where you just sit and think about what you’ve done, taking a second before you finish what you’ve started, delaying the inevitable. The music you put on to cover it up and the music you put on to comfort yourself through each repetitive day, the music that understands in a way you can’t imagine anyone would. Lies. Those words you utter to everyone around with the guilty tinge of dishonesty that only you recognize.

“What does it taste like”

Everything. It tastes like everything. It tastes rotten and dirty and bitter and repugnant. It tastes nostalgic and beautiful and relieving and delicious. It tastes like eating something and knowing what it tastes like when it comes back up. It tastes like coffee in the morning and carefully-measured meals as you tell yourself you’ll get back on track. It tastes like disappointment. It tastes like failure. It tastes bland on your burnt, acid-ruined tongue. It tastes like the water and baking soda you swish around to try and minimize the harm. It tastes perfect like nothing you’ve ever had and you don’t want the taste to leave even if you know it’s festering inside of you and turning you into a monster.

“What does it smell like”

It smells old. Pungent. Sickly-sweet. Dairy that’s curdled with st0mach acid. It doesn’t smell like much because you’re blind to it now, and it barely spends enough time in your st0mach to take on the sour tinge of real pvk3. It smells like the candles you light and the perfume you use to cover it up and try and feel normal, to make your bedroom stink less like the corpse you’re becoming. It smells like sm0ke swirling around and breathed out your window. It smells expired but you still eat it because it doesn’t matter anymore.

“What does it feel like”

It is pain. Pain even when you aren’t feeling pain because the emotional pain of just being this way is a pain that fills you. It’s the twist in your gut when you h3ave on an empty stomach, not quite believing it to be so, wanting to be sure. It feels like the weak ache in your head and chest like TV static when you stand on unsteady legs, the dread that comes knowing you’ll have to eat something again in order to feel normal enough to burn whatever c4l0ries you left behind. It’s the feeling of a horrendously bl0ated stomach whenever you even try to eat normally because you’ve ruined your digestive system and you have to cope with how disgusting it is to be full. It’s a pain in your throat like it’s swelling closed, acid flooding your chest and esophagus, sores on your lips and acne on your chin and an ache in your head that just won’t go away. It’s guilt for everything that’s so horrendous you can’t imagine ever forgiving yourself

[izvmimi]

“Have you ever thought of becoming a teacher?” 

Clack goes the knife loudly as it hits the cutting board, and in the subsequent quiet, the sound seems to elevate the importance of the question. And now when you really think about it, maybe it is more of a serious question than you had initially considered.

Yuuji hasn’t yet answered. You put down your knife, and turn, wondering if he’s even in the room with you still. He isn’t, and you resolve to not ask again, but in a second, he reappears again in the kitchen doorway, this time with another paper bag full of groceries which he sets on the counter.

“Oh, did we forget those?” You pivot. You’d gotten so excited with the prospect of making sure dinner was ready in time for your friends to come over that you’d started preparing the side dishes immediately, the produce quickly washed and thrown onto a cooking surface.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice has softened, and you can tell he’s thinking. He draws closer to you to get to the sink, washes his hands, then smiles to himself for a moment. For a reason you don’t understand (well, really you do), your heart flutters as he softly huffs through his nose before turning off the faucet.

“You know, I really did not plan to live this long,” he says finally, his hands drying on a towel. You take that in, and he moves to stand beside you, grabbing the knife gently out of your hands.

“I’m not done yet,” you whine.

“Let me take over,” he says back, mirroring your voice in a singsongy tune. You acquiesce, but lean back, wondering if he’ll say more. There are things to put away, and you move to do so, watching his back carefully as he works. You’ve watched him for so many years now, since you first met, but as clear as he speaks his mind, and as pure his intentions are, you always worry about his heart. 

Sometimes when things are too obvious, they become suspicious, and you feel like it’s always been this with Yuuji. The fact that he liked you so earnestly since high school gave you pause, that he’s always been there for you made you fear abandonment. Right now you wish he would offer you anything more than the truth, which is that he really wasn’t meant to escape his fate as a sacrificial lamb.

“I could,” he muses. He turns, and his smile is brighter than the sun. “Do you think I could be like Gojo-sensei… or Nanamin?” 

It’s such a simple question, childlike and innocent. Not something you’d expect for someone who has lived horrors, has been a horror himself.

“Probably better than Gojo. Catching up to Nanami might take some work,” you joke. His eyes crinkle. You put away the last few things in the pantry and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on the space between his shoulder blades.

“There are a million other things you could do, you know, if you really haven’t thought about it,” you offer.

He sighs but it’s light, and you waddle with him, still holding on tightly as he moves through the kitchen to the fridge to grab himself a soft drink. He opens it and offers you the first sip, twisting in your loosened hold to face you properly; you shake your head no and he takes a sip before responding. He’s leaning against the counter now, and you look up at him tentatively. He basks in your interest, making an exaggerated contemplative gesture.

“Being your boyfriend isn’t enough, huh?” He teases.

You roll your eyes.

“Please.”

“Mmmm…” he leans in, eyes sparkling. “How about househusband?”

Your cheeks warm.

“Are you proposing to me, Yuuji?” You break away, taking a step back, your arms crossed as you quiet your flustered emotions.

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not yet.”

You blink, but he’s already returned to his task, and you find some other way to busy your hands before you ask another question for which answer you may not be prepared.

[blu3-j]

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! GN! Reader X Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 1

TW: none

The beginning of a grand new friendship, and a bunch of new adventures yet to come. It appears as though our main character has yet to see just what they're about to go through. Such a busy bee!

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

You slowly trudged up the steps of your porch, completely exhausted. Work has been awfully busy lately, with customers constantly coming in and out and being...."fun", as your boss put it. Not only that, but the workload your college classes have been putting on you lately has been overbearing! You've barely had any time to yourself. You haven't had time to indulge in your favorite hobbies, talk to any of your friends, or even look much at social media. It was a constant race to get things done and keep that money you so desperately needed rolling in.

You slid the key in the keyhole and turned. The door clicked open and a dark, dusty house welcomed you. An exasperated sigh sounded from you. Unfortunately, with your busy schedule, you also haven't had much time to clean your house.

You had been passed down your house from your great grandparents, who had both passed away a few years back. It was completely paid off, and even had some forest property to go along with it! Unfortunately, it was also pretty far in the forest, so you had to get up a bit extra early to make it anywhere on time. It also took up quite a bit of gas to get anywhere from there. You would move in with somebody to make it easier on yourself, but you didn't have many friends that lived in town anymore. None of the ones that did wanted or needed a roommate. Additionally, being a skeptic and cautious person led to not trusting many people on the internet. There was always a chance they would screw you over or possibly even murder you. You never knew.

Thud!

You dropped your heavy bag on the floor and your stomach, quick to catch the cue, growled. There was barely a thing in the fridge for ready-made food, and all of your dishes were dirty and disgusting. Even the thought of taking the time to wash them all made you feel more exhausted than you already were. The pantry didn't have much, either, but there was one thing that you could make in a few minutes without any extra work needed. Instant noodle cups.

"I really do play into the broke, tired college kid stereotype, huh?" You grumbled as you grabbed a cup from the pantry. It only took a few minutes, but you decided upon waiting for it to finish cooking to turn to the living room. The tv was dusty and rarely used, but you figured with the little free time you had you would watch something. "Anything to get my mind off of those Susans and Karens I have to face at work." The remote sat lonely in its spot on the tv stand as you walked over and picked it up. The screen was full of static for a moment, then to a news broadcast station. Humming, you flicked through the various stations, eventually settling on the most colorful one of them all.

A children's cartoon had just ended, and the colorful characters were saying their final goodbyes to the viewers.

"Maybe something simple will let me veg out for a bit. I don't need anything complicated right now." A small ding from the kitchen caught your attention. "Sounds like the noodles are done." One last mumble came from you as you turned your back to the tv and walked away. "My brain is already fried enough as is." When you got back and plopped down on your couch, a new cartoon had popped up. You figured it was a cartoon, anyway, from the extremely colorful title card. "Welcome Home" it read. "Must be a new show."

The colorful title card faded away and the camera panned down to a live set. The colorful scene caught your attention in full, and you felt yourself almost entranced. A house in the middle of a small neighborhood with eyes stared the viewer down with a supposedly friendly gaze. It waved with a window shutter before opening the door to the viewer as the camera wandered in. Inside, sitting at a canvas and easel was a small yellow puppet. He was humming away the show's friendly tune, slowly squeezing paint onto his palette. Finally, he noticed the viewer.

"Oh, hello, neighbor!" He waved to the viewer. His voice was gentle and slightly monotone. Strange, as he seems to be the main character. "Don't they usually have the main character of children's shows as more extraverted and full of energy and emotion?" "I was just about to start painting a lovely new painting for my friend Barnaby." He hummed and grabbed a brush, but hesitated upon moving to dip it in the paints. His gaze went back to the viewer, and he laughed. It was just as monotone as his usual voice, but what was even more off-putting was it being almost robotic in nature. "Oh, no. Thinking about it, I actually don't know what to paint." The handle tip of the brush was put against his cheek as the small puppet thought. "Say, neighbor," He looked back at the viewer. The small puppet's gaze distracted you from your food.

"That's weird...why does it feel...?" "As though he's looking directly at me?"

"Do you have any ideas? I'm sure there's some great ones in that head of yours!" His grin widened. Is that even possible for a puppet? You decided to remain quiet and stare back at him, completely entranced by the dark pools of his eyes. One minute went by. Then two. It wasn't until a third went by when you realized he hadn't gone back to painting. He was still staring, quiet and patient. "Neighbor?" The monotone voice caught you off gaurd, and you jumped in your seat. The puppet laughed and his gaze fell away from you for a moment. Just one. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" You felt your blood run cold as he spoke once again, his voice even more gentle and ominous than before. Are you just that tired? Are you dreaming? You must be! "I can see you, you know." There it was again. That same, monotone laugh. His voice went back to normal. "That's okay if you don't want to answer me! It must be so strange for you. That I can see you. That I'm talking to you. But you don't have to worry! I won't hurt you!" The yellow puppet's eyes went wide. "Oh! I have an idea, now! You gave me the perfect idea, neighbor! I'll paint you!"

A breath left your lungs as you watched him turn his attention back to his canvas and start painting. One you hadn't realized you'd been holding. He hummed the show's tune once more as he went to painting on his canvas. It would be comforting, if it wasn't for the fact he was indeed painting your unlit living room.

"It's nice to have a new neighbor." He mumbled out just loud enough for you to hear. "Not many come to visit anymore." He glanced back at you for a moment before he went back to painting. "Oh, silly me, I forgot to introduce myself! I was too excited...I'm Wally. Wally Darling." The puppet, as you now knew as Wally, went silent. Not even a theme song played in the background. Just the silence of his livingroom...and his occasional humming.

Time rolled by. After a while, it almost felt like normal. Like you two had known each other for a while and were just on some sort of quiet camera call. Your tense shoulders eventually relaxed, and although you were still too cautious to speak to the puppet, your eyelids slowly, ever so slowly, shut. Overworking yourself had gotten to you, and no longer could your body continue to stay awake. A small, gentle, monotone voice called to you. So small, you barely noticed. So gentle, it sealed the final nail in you falling into the deep depths of dreams.

"Goodnight, neighbor."

[storiesofsvu]

Girl Dinner

Casey Novak x Rita Calhoun Warnings: language, sass, bantering, smut. Welp, at least this is finally done. I can't tell ya if it's any good or if I even like it, but I finally actually managed to write after a solid two weeks of nothing. Hoping that the creativity will continue to bless me and I can get some more of it done as the month goes on. At least I managed to finagle my way into getting Thursday off so hopefully that will help! Manifest more writing to come from me soon! lol, apologies for things taking so long. Especially to those of you who have bought me ko-fi's for specific requests! Also this is my first time writing a full blown smut piece for a ship and not a reader insert, so it's not gonna be perfect lol

Working through dinner in the Calhoun/Novak household was a very usual thing, especially during the week. Weeknights were for ordering take out to the office while slaving over files or opening arguments and witness lists. They were for going out with the firm, bartering, rubbing elbows and climbing the social chains, making connections that would no doubt come to help you out later down the road. Nights spent sharing bottles of wine with prospective clients at the finest steakhouses in Manhattan for hours while you started to piece together people’s character and integrity. They were for hours spent at Forlini’s, shooting the shit and attempting to make plea deals with the prosecutor on the case, sometimes multiple at once. It was very rare that both of them actually made it home in time for dinner at all.

Not that Casey minded, she was used to eating alone in her office at Hogan place, putting blood sweat and tears into cases that she might not even end up winning. Besides, it certainly wasn’t like Rita was going to cook for her, the best she was getting was pricey take out (which Rita sometimes would send to the apartment when she knew the other woman was home). Most nights Casey got home first she’d toss together something delicious and semi healthy, setting aside a plate for Rita whenever she did get home, if she’d already eaten, it would be tomorrow’s lunch.

Tonight was the rare occasion where they were both home by dinner time, but that didn’t mean either of them were done working. Rita was in the home office; door open just a crack and Casey could hear her on the phone. By the sound of things, she was talking deals, and the sassy and somewhat playful tone in her voice told her it was Barba on the other side of the line. So she chose to stay at the kitchen island and finish up her own closing argument, leave her girlfriend squabbling with her best friend for a little longer.

It was almost an hour later when Casey’s stomach began to rumble, but the office conversation had since changed to speaker phone, meaning it was nowhere near over so she treated it like any other night they were apart. She closed her file folders, stashing them in her work bag and padded through the kitchen to the fridge, staring into it, the pantry and the freezer until she found something suitable to throw in the oven for herself. When it was finished, she took it into the living room with a glass of wine, throwing a mindless show on the television to keep her occupied while she waited for Rita to wrap up whatever she was working on.

She was done a second glass of wine by the time she realized how late it was, letting out a soft sigh as she pushed off the couch. Stopping in the kitchen she poured out another glass of wine for Rita before wandering down the hallway and knocked gently on the door. Rita’s soft ‘come in’ echoed through the space and Casey smiled, stepping into the office.

“Are you that deep into it tonight?”

“I was.” She laughed lightly, “then Raf got me all distracted.”

“Well,” Casey perched on the edge of her desk, placing down one of the wine glasses, “if you’ve still got work to do, start with this, I’ll get you some dinner going.”

“I have dinner.” The older woman replied, gesturing to the snack box she had made to take to work, a handful of trail mix, half a bag of salt and vinegar Boom Chicka Pop, some now very brown apple slices, and cubes of cheese.

“That is not dinner.” Casey practically snorted, “that barely constitutes a snack.”

“It counts.” She protested with a laugh, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth with a shrug, “I had a big lunch, went out with Liz. It’s fine darling.”

“Is this how you eat when I’m not around?”

“It’s food, isn’t it?” She shrugged, munching on some more of it while continuing to scribble on a legal pad.

“Did you survive on Lunchables at Harvard?” She asked with a laugh, the look Rita gave her making her realize she probably didn’t even know what a Lunchable was.

“Rafael cooked. Or we went down to the dining hall. You’ve seen it, that constitutes real food.”

Casey let out a small huff, “I was about to make a comment about how expensive that must’ve gotten but then I remembered who I’m talking to.”

Rita chuckled, her pen stilling in her hand as she looked up at the redhead, “I know you enjoy cooking for me, but I am being perfectly nutritious.”

“Okay, but lunch with Liz, that,” she gestured to the snack box, “plus the half an egg you ate on your way out the door doesn’t count as three balanced meals.”

“Oh,” She grinned, “and I’m so sure your dinner of… what was it? Let me guess, dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and tater tots, does?”

“Hey!” Casey pouted, “at least I actually cooked them! It counts as dinner. Rita, c’mon.” she tugged at her hand, “I’ll even order expensive take out, you need something hot and delicious to eat.”

Rita let out a low laugh, her lips curving up into a devilish smirk as she looked up at the other woman, “you know… if you wanted me to eat you out all you had to do was ask.”

“Rita!” Casey felt her cheeks heat, her eyes widening at the other woman’s words.

“What?” She shrugged, her eyes dragging up and down her body, lingering on the swell of her chest peeking out from under her shirt, “you said something hot and delicious. And something hot and delicious happens to be standing right in front of me…”

“Rita…” She warned, letting out a huff.

“Are you telling me you don’t want me to eat you out?” She asked, picking up her pen again, flipping it through her fingers, “fine, I’ll keep working. But I thought I had you trained better, you should know every good dinner needs an even tastier appetizer.” She glanced up at Casey, her brow raised and a hungry fire in her eyes, “and I am particularly fond of how you taste.” Casey gulped, shifting awkwardly on the edge of Rita’s desk, pulling a dark chuckle from the other woman, “that’s what I thought.” She swatted at her hip, “bedroom. I’m not risking you ruining any of this paperwork.”

The heat from Casey’s cheeks started to tingle through her body, her mind already beginning to cloud at the thought of Rita’s mouth on her. The woman knew exactly just how to drive her wild, she could have her turned on in the flash of a second with just a lingering look or her extensive vocabulary, made even spicier the moment she started dirty talking.

And that was before she even laid a hand on her.

By the time Casey was in the bedroom her shirt was tugged over her head and she was ducking to kiss Rita, accepting the other woman’s tongue into her mouth as she let out a soft moan. Rita’s hands were on the waistband of her pants, pulling them and her underwear down over her hips so Casey could kick them off. The brunette nudged her to sit on the edge of the bed, softly pulling away from the kiss and Casey’s hands flew to her waist, untucking her blouse, fingers sneaking underneath the fabric to tickle across her heated skin. Rita caught her wrists, pressing a kiss to the palm of one of her hands,

“Uh-uh.”

“But.” She began to protest before Rita cocked a brow at her.

“This is about getting you off, and then getting me dinner. I can have my fun later.”

“Promise?” She practically pouted and Rita laughed softly, cupping her face, thumb stroking over her cheek before she leant down, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Promise.” She nodded, “now lie back darling.”

Casey shifted on the bed until her head hit the pillows, her skin prickling as Rita climbed over her, catching her lips in a kiss while her hands began to trace patterns on porcelain skin. She couldn’t help but moan when Rita’s tongue slipped back into her mouth, dancing with her own as their lips moved with a familiar grace. The tingle between her legs grew at the feeling of hands softly groping at her chest, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb and she broke the kiss to moan gently, her head falling back into the pillows.

Rita took advantage, her lips trailing down her neck, teeth nipping gently at her skin in an attempt to not leave any marks in the morning. She licked across her collarbone, pausing to press a gentle kiss in the middle before her lips continue to trace across Casey’s skin. The other woman wound her fingers gently into her hair, holding her to her as she worked her way across her body, little whimpers escaping her lips as her pussy began to flutter. Rita’s lips wrapped around a nipple, sucking it into her mouth as Casey moaned softly, her nails scratching at the brunette’s scalp, her hips rocking up off the bed begging for more contact. Her lips curved up into a grin on Casey’s skin before her teeth nipped at her nipple and she let out a gasp, back arching off the bed. Satisfied with the reaction she repeated the motions on the other side, leaving Casey whining beneath her, body shivering against the bed, her pussy practically dripping. Wrapping a sturdy arm around her waist, Rita rolled onto her back, a small shriek leaving the other woman’s lips as she did so.

“What’re y—”

“Come sit on my face.” She muttered; her breath hot on Casey’s lips as she surged up to steal another kiss.

“But…”

“My appetizer,” Rita squeezed at her hips as she stole another heated kiss, “my choice of how it’s presented, right?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Casey shook her head, kissing her once more before she crawled up the bed, settling her legs on either side of her head and Rita’s hands slid up her legs, softly grasping her waist.

Casey let out a gasp when Rita yanked her down onto her face, her tongue lapping at the other woman’s pussy. Her lips moved with expertise, tongue slipping in just enough to tantalize her, pulling waves of pleasure from deeper within her body with each pass of her tongue. Juices began to smear across her lips as Casey whined above her, her hands shooting out to clutch at the headboard. Rita groaned against her skin, her fingers tightening into her hips, rocking her body ever so gently, encouraging Casey to grind down onto her, to chase her release as needily as she wanted to.

“Oh fu-uck.” Her body trembled when Rita’s nose nudged against her throbbing clit, a whimper escaping her lips.

She could feel Rita’s lips curving up into a smirk against her skin before her mouth shifted upwards so she could suck her clit into her mouth. Casey moaned louder at the sensation, her head falling back as she continued to grind down onto Rita. Her heart was thundering in her chest, heat prickling under her skin as the pleasure soared through her, pussy fluttering around nothing, dripping down her thighs. Rita’s tongue danced patterns against her clit, flicking with the tip exactly how Casey desired, her noises getting louder with each movement from the other woman. She was so close and Rita could sense it, sucking harder on her clit, moaning into her pussy, the vibrations driving Casey wild, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“Please…” she whined, pulling a chuckle from Rita whose hand snuck between the redhead’s thighs, playing with her folds before two fingers sunk into her heat, “fuck.”

Rita groaned again, feeling Casey’s pussy pulse around her fingers as she fucked her, her lips sucking harder around her clit. Juices dribbled down her wrist, her fingers curling, quickly finding the sensitive spot inside her cunt, Casey let out a gasp, her head dropping forward as pleasure shot through her body.

“Oh god…” she moaned, “d-don’t stop.” Her body jolted, thighs threatening to suffocate Rita as she continued her motions, “s’close.”

Rita moaned in response, her tongue flicking faster, working in tandem with her fingers, the tips pressing into Casey’s g-spot with each thrust. She rubbed harder, lingering against the sensitive spot and Casey cried out, her entire body shaking as the coil burst and her orgasm hit her, coursing through her body, the fire bursting from under her skin. Rita’s tongue lazily licked at her clit, smirking at the way it made the other woman shudder before she pulled her fingers from her pussy, her mouth sinking back down to gently clean up the mess she’d made between her legs.

Casey could feel her body aching to go limp and in an attempt to actually not suffocate her girlfriend she mustered up the strength to swing her leg off her, dropping down onto the bed as she panted. Rita chuckled beside her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she reached out, pulling Casey into her embrace. With a soft sigh the redhead relaxed into her, curling into her side as her head found home on her chest. Rita’s nails softly scratched at her scalp, gliding through her hair as she pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Feeling better?” She asked, her free hand gliding up and down Casey’s back.

“Much.” She mumbled in reply, finally able to catch her breath. It was only after a minute that her brow furrowed and she pulled her head up, looking up at Rita, “wait… this wasn’t about me, this was about you eating.”

“Did I not just eat?” Rita cocked a brow, a grin on her lips and Casey rolled her eyes.

“An actual meal, consisting of physical food that was better than some Lunchable.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” She smiled, leaning down to place a kiss onto Casey’s lips. As much as she would claim she was fine, her body was about to betray her, a loud growl echoing through the room from her stomach. Casey barked out a laugh as Rita huffed, dropping back onto the pillows.

“No denying it now.” Grinning, the redhead stole a kiss, “what do you feel like? Something fancy or something comforting.”

“If that’s your way of asking if pizza is acceptable, my answer is yes.” She pinched at Casey’s waist, “just keep the pineapple on your side please.”

“Of course.” Casey kissed her cheek before rolling over to grab her phone from the nightstand, quickly punching in the order before tossing the device to the side.

“How long.” Rita asked, shifting the blankets around the two of them.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.” Her arms wound around the other woman, “that’s plenty of time for another round.”

“You are insufferable.” Casey laughed as she accepted the kiss.

“And you love it.”

“Mmhmm.”

________________

@svulife-rl @mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @clarawatson @yesterdaysgone @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @summergeezb @rainbowelshrhian @daddy-heather-dunbar @alcabots @ladysc @daffodil-heart @thisisraes @happenstnces @kmc1989 @valentinesfrog @noahrex @prentiss-theorem

[zepp-l1n]

Pretty

Pairing: George Karim x Fem!reader (with sight), some subtle locklyle

summary: The 4 times (Y/N) called George pretty, and the one time he said she was. fic type - fluff, mutual pinning warning - reader calls George "pretty boy" word count - 3,053 a/n: I'm so upset Lockwood & CO isn't getting a second season :(

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#1. Morning Tea

The muffled noise of a tea kettle woke (Y/N) up from her sleep. The teenager drowsily looked around, taking in their surroundings. From her spot on the bed, (Y/N) noticed the low light coming through the window and into her room.

Lucy, who was sleeping across the room, hadn't seemed to be disturbed by the noise, and continued her peaceful rest. (Y/N) pushed herself up and leaned against her headboard. The tea kettle still hadn't stopped, and (Y/N) was quickly getting annoyed. "Ugh..." she sighed as she moved out from under their dark bedsheets. (Y/N) silently moved across the room, down the stairs, and outside of the attic.

As (Y/N) made her way to the kitchen the high pitched ringing stopped. This didn't make (Y/N) any less aggravated at being woken up early. When she had reached the kitchen she quietly opened the door, and stumbled inside.

George was sat at the kitchen table, cup of tea in hand. He glanced up, taking in (Y/N)'s sleepy form before asking, "What are you doing up?"

"The tea kettle woke me." she responded. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at George's morning attire. He was in a long NASA t-shirt, and had his glasses low on his nose. As usual he wasn't wearing any trousers, which (Y/N) and the other Lockwood & Co members had strangely gotten used to. The thing that caught (Y/N)'s attention the most was George's hair; his curls looked fluffy and were all over the place, an unusual sight for such a put together boy. Although it was a new sight, it wasn't a unappreciated one.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't think the sound would reach all the way up there." he softly muttered.

'It's fine - as long as you left me some water for my own tea." (Y/N) joked.

George smiled up at them. "It's by the stove. I also washed your mug, so it should be at the front of the drying rack." He then turned back to his tea, taking a long sip.

"You, George Karim, are a delight." (Y/N) made their way over to the drying rack, retrieved her mug, and placed it next to the half-full kettle. She then moved over to the pantry and fridge, grabbing her respective honey, sugar, and milk. She made her tea the same way she always did: place an English Breakfast tea bag in the cup, pour a bit of honey and a spoonful of sugar on top of the tea bag, and pour in the water. Once the tea bag had steeped long enough for their choosing, (Y/N) then added a bit more honey, and then poured in a splash of milk.

After making her tea, (Y/N) took the seat next to George. "So, what are you doing up this early?" she asked.

"Couldn't sleep. The case Lockwood asked me to look into, somethings off about it. I don't know what, but……" George had a tendency to trail off when he was speaking. Sometimes he thought he was still relaying information to his friends, but was simply sitting in silence.

(Y/N) took a long sip of her tea. "Did- uh, did you get any sleep at all?" she asked after swallowing. George didn't answer. "George…." she started.

"I know, I know." he responded sharply.

(Y/N) took one hand off of her cup, and placed it over George's. The concerned look on her face caused George to avert his gaze back to his tea. As he did (Y/N) got a clear sight of the early morning light gliding over his face. It was a nice scene. He looked....pretty.

"Look, I'm not gonna berate you with comments about your heath like a mother, but you do need sleep, Georgie." she sighed. "I don't wanna see my pretty boy get sick because he wont take his own health seriously."

George's head shot up, eyes wide. "Pretty boy?"

"Yeah, pretty boy." (Y/N) smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go get dressed, and wake up the others." She stood up, mug in hand, and walked back towards the kitchen door, leaving George flushed and slack-jawed.

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#2. During A Mission

The members of Lockwood & Co were split up in groups of twos, and were rushing through a house. George and (Y/N) were attempting to find the source of the Type Two the team was trying to get rid of, while Lucy and Lockwood held it off.

"Georgie, what are we looking for, exactly?" (Y/N) whispered to the curly haired boy across the room.

"Something wedding related. Possibly a veil, garter belt, or piece of......wedding jewelry?" George whispered back.

The duo went quiet for a moment, continuing to search the room for anything that may be keeping the ghost of Christine, a young bride who was slaughtered in her home close to 14 years ago.

A loud bang rang through the floor tiles, followed by the angry and worried yells of Lockwood and Lucy. "Shit! For gods sake, hurry up guys!" Lucy's voice echoed from downstairs. George and (Y/N) glanced up at each other, both exchanging a worried look.

"We're trying Luce!" (Y/N) yelled back. "Shit. Okay. I'll take the left side of the room, you take the right." George frantically nodded and the two got to work.

They hurriedly made their ways around their respective portions of the room. The noises from downstairs got progressively louder, and then unexpectedly stopped. "(Y/N)? Are you not hearing, what I'm not hearing?" George asked.

(Y/N) nodded. "Oh god, you don't think...." she couldn't finish her sentence.

"No. No, I'm sure they're fine..." he mumbled.

(Y/N) stood up, her black boots scuffing against the floor as she did, and cautiously moved towards the door. "Lucy? Lockwood?" she yelled into the hallway. When she was a step away from the door, it unexpectedly slammed shut. "Holy shit!"

George jumped up, a quickly made his way over to her. His hands grasped onto the doorknob, frantically trying to pry the door open. "Guys! Lucy! Lockwood!" he yelled out. No response was heard.

As he focused on the door, (Y/N) looked around in a panic. At the other end of the room a figure started to appear. The young bride. "George...." (Y/N) patted his hand with her shoulder, still facing the ghost. He didn't answer her, and continued trying to open the door. (Y/N) stepped away from him, and gently pulled out her rapier. "George!" she yelped once again.

"What?" he turned around, expecting her to be behind him. Instead she was guarding him from the Type Two in the room. "Oh shit."

He moved to take out his rapier, but (Y/N) stopped him. "Wait. Go find the source. I'll hold her off." George nodded. He ran out from behind her, and made his way through the room and continued his attempt to find the source.

(Y/N) moved as he did, making sure to not leave open the space between him and the ghost. She did the regular rapier moves every agent was taught, and kept the ghost at bay. "Georgie, hurry it up." she exclaimed as the ghost moved closer to her.

"I'm trying!" Items flew behind him as he rummaged through the dust covered room.

Realizing that the rapier wasn't helping as much as she would like it to, (Y/N) reached into her jacket, and pulled out a salt bomb. She swiftly tossed it at the ghost, causing it to disappear as the salt bomb hit it.

"A wedding ring!" George gasped out. "That's what was missing in the police report, so it must be around here. That has to be the source."

"Good job, George. Now find it!" (Y/N) yelled back. She was so caught up in talking to him, that she didn't notice the ghost reappear behind her. Her body was pushed forward, into the nearest wall.

The crash pulled George's attention towards her. "(Y/N)!"

"Get the source!" she grunted out. "I'm fine!"

She leaned against the wall, and pulled out another salt bomb. As she threw it, she tried to ignore the ache in her left shoulder and head.

George had started going through the jewelry boxes on top of a nearby table, in an attempt to find the wedding ring. (Y/N)'s grunts and yelps caused George to speed up his search. At the back of his third jewelry box, he finally found a smaller box that was wrapped in a silk handkerchief. "I think I found it!"

"Then secure the fucking thing!" (Y/N) cried out. At this point, the ghost had hurt her a few more times. The ache in her shoulder was far more prominent, she had a cut leading from her temple to her cheekbone which was spirting blood rapidly, and her right knee had gave out around 5 times.

George unwrapped the box and opened it. Just as he had suspected, the wedding ring was inside. He gripped it with shaky fingers and ran back towards the door, where their kit was safely stored. He reached inside, found the silver chains, and wrapped the ring in them.

A relived gasp left (Y/N) as the ghost in front of her disappeared. George made his way over to her, and grabbed onto her outreached arms. "Are you okay?" George wiped some the blood on her face off using the edge of his sleeve.

"I'm fine. A bit sore, but that'll go away soon." she grinned. "Good job with the source, pretty boy." It was the first time she had referred to him with the nickname since the morning they had been up before Lucy and Lockwood. His face flushed just the same as it had then.

Lucy and Lockwood burst through the door, both visibly concerned for their friends. "What the bloody hell happened? Are you all okay?" Lucy yelled.

"We did your job." (Y/N) joked, using her good arm to lightly smack George, only to receive an embarrassed smirk back.

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#3. At The Archives

When taking a trip to the archives, George usually went by himself. It was almost like his form of a safe space. He liked the calm he found in studying and researching silently by himself. Today, however, (Y/N) had come with him.

The two sat across from each other at George's regular table. Both had a hearty stack of newspapers and journals to go through during the next few hours - each important to the upcoming job Lockwood had gotten them.

George had read almost half of his stack in the time that (Y/N) had gotten through the first third. This was due to a mixture of George's unnatural reading speed, and the fact that (Y/N) kept getting distracted by George. After every paragraph of information, (Y/N)'s gaze drifted up to the boy in front of her. He was in his element, and able to be his true self. The look on his face was once of content and happiness - something that (Y/N) would pay however much needed to see at all times. The only other time that (Y/N) got to see him this in his element was in the evenings when he would read by himself, unaware of her eyes on him.

"Why are you looking at me" George asked without removing his eyes from the newspaper in his hands.

"Is it a crime for me to take a break to look at the prettiest thing in the room?" she giggled.

George's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but look away from the information he was reading. "You.....I...." his gaze returned to the page.

(Y/N) grinned at his embarrassment. She loved being able to say one word and make his entire demeanor change. It was cute. He was cute. Before she got back into her paper, (Y/N) mumbled one last thing to the flustered boy. "It's true though. You are the prettiest thing in here."

As she continued reading she missed the small smile that crept onto George's face from behind his newspaper.

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#4. Cleaning 35 Portland Row

George woke up early on Sundays to clean. He had done this since he had moved into 35 Portland Row.

George had put on his gloves and apron, and was cleaning the floor under the table when (Y/N) entered the kitchen. She was already dressed, and ready for the day she had planned with Lucy. The two were going to get lunch at a nearby diner, and have a "girls day".

"Morning Georgie." she spoke as she passed the boy. He was on his knees for a better angle.

One arm was scrubbing the tiles, while the other waved at his housemate. "Morning."

(Y/N) opened up the bread box and got out the wheat bread. George assumed she was going to make herself some toast to hold herself off till lunch.

The friends sat in a calm silence while cleaning and waiting on the toaster to finish. "Are you just gonna clean today, or are you planning to do anything fun?" (Y/N) asked.

"Just cleaning, I guess." responded his tired voice.

A ding sounded from the toaster, and (Y/N)'s snack popped out. George heard the noise of a cabinet opening and closing, then the clanking of a plate hitting the thinking cloth. "Have fun with that. When you feel like having a break, there's a slice of toast and some jam out for you to snack on." she spoke from beside him.

George jolted slightly at her closeness as he hadn't realized she had moved down to him. "Thank you." he stuttered out.

"No problem." she grinned. "By the way, you should wear the whole cleaning get-up more often. Really brings out your inner 'pretty, housewife'." George once again jolted at her words. This time far higher than the last, resulting in his head lightly hit the edge of the table. "Oh shit, pretty boy, are you okay?" (Y/N)'s hands made their way to his head, caressing the space he had hit.

"I'm good!" George's voice came out dazed due to their closeness.

"You sure?" she concerningly continued to ask.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." His eyes didn't leave hers. Her hands didn't leave his face. They sat there for a minute, basking in their new proximity.

(Y/N) seemed to come back to her senses, and removed her hands. "If you say so." She stood back up, and patted the table. "Remember, you've, uh, you've got toast." Pink dusted her cheeks. "Lucy's probably waiting for me, so I should go."

(Y/N) smiled at the boy, grabbed her slice of toast from the plate, and left him, once again, in a stunned state in the kitchen.

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#5. Leaving For The Fittes Ball

Like the past few years, the members of Lockwood & Co had been invited to the annual Fittes Ball. Their invitations included a plus one, the date, place, and this years theme - Celestial. Both Lucy and (Y/N) had instantly loved the theme, finding it to be very cute and a spectacular idea. Lockwood was simply intrigued by the idea, and found how excited the girls were to be amazing.

George didn't share their excitement. The thought of fantastical attire and decorations didn't fit into his usual idea of "fun". "I don't know. You guys could just go without me, y'know?" he sighed from across the library. He was in a simple suit, with a borrowed pair of dress shoes Lockwood had gave him. The only celestial item was the small stars on the black shirt underneath his suit jacket.

"And leave me to talk to all the fancy, official people alone, while the girls party? Absolutely not." Lockwood groaned. "Look, you're going with us. Lucy and I are going together, which means you and (Y/N) are going together. Stop complaining." The head of the agency was in similar attire to his friend, but had a white shirt, and small, golden embroidered stars on the lapel of his jacket.

George threw his head back in exhaustion. "I'll just sit there the entire evening, bored. That won't change if (Y/N)'s there or not."

"If I'm where?" a voice startled the boys out of their conversation. In the doorframe of the library stood Lucy and (Y/N), both fully dressed, and ready to go.

Lucy was in a short and sparkly white dress, which reached her knees. A small series of gold constellations ran along the neckline of her dress, and stopped where the shoulders met the sleeves. Small sun earrings dangled from her ears, matching the sun necklace and bracelets she wore. The click of her small black heels echoed through the room as she walked towards Lockwood, taking his arm in hers. A smile grew on her pale, pink lips as she glanced over at her date and her George.

The entire time, George was focused on (Y/N). She was in a longer, black dress, that had silver stars intricately placed all over the bodice, and the waist. Her hair was half pinned back, reveling the moon and star ear set adorning her ears. Even while being dolled up, she still wore her usual black boots - something that seemed to fluster George even more. She wore a star necklace, which was similar to Lucy's, but instead of bracelets, she chose silver rings - three to four on each hand.

"Well, the cab should be outside soon, so I say we wait out there for a minuet. Get some fresh air." Lockwood commented. He and Lucy made their way out of the room, leaving George and (Y/N) to themselves.

"You tidy up well, Georgie." (Y/N) joked. She brought her hand up to his collar, straitening it slightly, before bringing her hand back down.

"Uh.. thank you." he awkwardly mumbled.

"C'mon, we better go outside with the others so we won't be late." she smiled up at him. (Y/N) reached for his arm, taking it just as Lucy had Lockwood's.

Without thinking, George spoke to the girl, almost inaudibly. "You look pretty."

"What was that?"

George straightened up, and turned his head away from (Y/N). "You...look pretty."

As he spoke, (Y/N)'s grin brightened. "Thanks, pretty boy." She pulled George forward, leading him towards the door. As the two exited their home, arm in arm, a aura of giddiness surrounded them - something Lucy and Lockwood noticed, but for their sake, didn't comment on.

[tainted-liquor]

'Pick Up The Phone.⋆♱☠︎︎

GhostFace!Hobie Brown / BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Lemon Zest, salt and tears, and low sugar. (Suggestive, angsty, v little fluff.) TWs: Swearing, YOU LITERALLY DIE!! HOBIE KILLS YOU!, biting kink, murder W/C: 1k! A/N: You get manhandled by Hobie. That's it bae there's no love

It was a freezing cold night, the wind whistling as the rain pattered against your window. You hummed to yourself as you walked back and forth between your kitchen and bedroom, placing more snacks on your nightstand with each trip. You decided to cancel your plans with your friends tonight due to the weather and stay warm and happy under your blanket. After dragging half of your pantry into your bedroom, you threw your phone down on the top of the blanket and made yourself comfortable. You surfed through Netflix to find something entertaining to watch before your phone rang loudly next to you.

There wasn't a caller ID, so you let it ring as you continued to surf through the various shows and movies on all your streaming platforms until your phone rang again...somehow louder? You sighed as you declined the call, adamant about not taking calls from unfamiliar numbers. It was likely your psycho ex, so you brushed it away, turning on a random movie. The soft ambiance of 'My Girl' filled your bedroom, stuffing your hand into a bag of hot fries as you pulled your blankets up slightly. All was well for about 5 minutes until you got the same call again.

You groaned loudly, holding yourself back from throwing the remote halfway across the room as you paused your movie to answer the call with an extremely irritated "WHAT!?" There was no noise only the other end for a brief moment, followed by a low chuckle as you could almost hear the strangers grin. "Don't be like that...Why don't you wanna chat with me, lovey?" The strange voice asked. It was unfamiliar, and laced with a thick and heavy Londoner accent. It would have been hot, but due to the circumstance, you felt nothing but confusion. "Who is this?" You replied, fight-or-flight senses telling you immediately that something was wrong.

"C'mon, Dove, you tell me your name n I'll tell you mines." He spoke, that voice ringing in your ears like the most seductive lullaby you had ever heard. "Sorry, Mr. Mysterious...that's not how we get down around here." You enunciated, being extremely mindful that this was a stranger on the other line. He chuckled coldly as his once charming and flirtatious giggle turned slightly crazed and deranged before muttering a small "Thas' alright...cute outfit you're wearin'. See you soon." Your eyes shot open as he hung up the phone, giving you no time to process anything of what he said before you ran to make sure all doors and windows were locked. Sure, it could've just been some sort of sick prank call. But down here? Oh no baby we don't take chances.

The next 10 minutes were hell as you turned off the TV, quickly locking yourself in your room with a kitchen knife. You hushed your breathing, allowing yourself the full advantage of pure silence to scope out any threats or unusual noises. You fumbled with your phone as you went to dial 911 with your shakey hands. "Yes, hello?" You whispered. "I need the police here immediately, there was a call...I think someones gonna attempt to break into my house."

"Okay, stay on the line we'll-" The call dropped. "FUCK!" You shouted as you attempted to recharge your dead phone. There was a loud crash that sounded that breaking wood, biting back tears as you slipped into the closet as silently as possible. There was a series of thuds that sounded like heavy boots before your doorknob began to jiggle. Whoever was on the other end wanted in, and they wanted in BAD.

There was silence as you let go of a breath you were holding, relaxing slightly as you leaned back on a coat in your closet in relief. All of that serenity left your body when you heard the loudest bangs and cracks of your life, watching through the crack of the closet as your door came flying off its hinges. Tears flooded your vision as you attempted to stay calm, biting down on your finger to prevent yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs.

"Oh, you...what you think I'm stupid?" The man spoke as he waltzed into your room. He was tall...REALLY tall. He wore a rather scratched ghost face mask and all-black clothing, a crop top that had the arms ripped off, and a multitude of belts that held up his low-rise tight jeans. "You think I'm some sort of joke, dove?" He chuckled before pausing in front of the closet, facing the direction of the window before plunging his fist straight through the wood, grabbing you by your hair, and ripping you out with a feverish smile. "See, there you are pretty girl..." He cooed as he watched you scream and squirm, attempting to shank him repeatedly with the knife.

He quickly used his free hand to grab your wrist, pulling you up on your feet by a fistful of your hair as he quickly threw the knife away from your grasp. "C'mon, don't fight me dove, I only wanna talk to you..." he continued to coo as he held you painfully tight, fearing he'd break your spine as he held you flush against his chest. You sobbed into his chest, biting and scratching as he only groaned lowly at the sensation. "Hmm...'s not gonna 'urt me. It'd do the opposite actually" he laughed, cold and heartless. You utilized the fact that your legs were left to dangle, delivering a sharp knee to his groin and slipping away from him.

You didn't even wait to see his reaction as you grabbed your phone and ran out of your apartment. You screamed as loud as you could, chest heaving and throat burning from your rapid and strained breathing. It hurt, every single time you breathed it felt like fire. You rounded the corner, practically flying down the stairs as you dialed up 911 on your phone. Tears silently coursed down your face as you relaxed, attempting to catch your breath.

There was a sharp pain and a seemingly innocent giggle. You looked down to see a knife plunged straight into your stomach, painting your beautiful pajama set in a shade of ruby. You turned to look behind you, seeing another ghost face mask, only this one's hair was fully visible. Long, silky, brown hair flowed from the top of his mask as he muttered a low "There's always two, new guy."

The tall, 'emo' one descended the stairs slowly, looking you straight through your soul through his mask, lifting it up so you could see his unfortunately gorgeous features. "G'nite, love." He spat, delivering a kiss to your forehead, cupping both sides of your face in his hands oh so gentle hands.

*crack!*

[lostgracestories]

Distant Sparks Part 6 (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

Okay so I totally did not want to wait to write this until I got home so I wrote this in the middle of my algebra class LMAO I COULDN'T HELP IT. So, I totally got huge motivation out of nowhere and ngl I think this part is my favorite and I think it will be your favorite too, I hope you enjoy!

TW: SO MUCH FLUFF

wc: 1.2k (NOT PROOFREAD)

sidenote: there's mention of a food named chilaquiles. It is a traditional Mexican breakfast that I just got to try recently (mama cooked em) and I 100% recommend them even for people who don't like spice <3 alright I'll be quiet now, enjoy pookies <3

You arrived at Miguel’s place around midnight and looked through his kitchen for a snack. The pantries were full of Mexican spices, snack foods, and a couple boxes of cereal. As for the fridge? There was a bag of apples, a case of beer, some Jarritos and the freezer was no better. You placed your hands on your hips and sighed. You knew he didn’t come home very often but this was still a sad sight. 

You gathered any ingredients you could find to make something for Miguel to heat up as leftovers. You worked for about an hour in the kitchen as the aroma of spices swirled through the air. You felt so calm and relaxed in his home and couldn’t remember the last time you had the chance to cook something. As you finished up the food you carefully transferred it into a tupperware container and used a sharpie to label it, “Miguel’s chilaquiles” you wrote the date underneath and also the date when it should be finished by or thrown out.

After putting the chilaquiles into the fridge to store, you went and cleaned yourself up in the bathroom. You spent the rest of the night cleaning up and finally sleeping. This had been the most peaceful you had ever felt.

—————

Miguel stood in front of his monitors, the soft yellow glow just barely illuminating his face. Miguel had lost track of what he was doing at least 3 times now and that frustrated him. No matter how hard he tried to focus his mind kept wandering to the thought of you, intrusive thoughts slipping into his mind imagining how peaceful you might look while sleeping. 

Miguel grunted in annoyance at the intrusive thought and shook it from his mind as he sighed and looked into a screen on his far right. A video of his daughter played on the screen, no audio to accompany the bright smile on the little girl’s face. Miguel felt his heart sink at the thought of his late daughter and found his mind wandering to you again.

Maybe just tonight he would go home. Just to see how you were doing.

—————

You were snuggled comfortably under the covers of Miguel’s king sized bed as you slowly felt yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep. Just as you were about to pass out a click sounded and a quiet squeak echoed through the halls and you jolted awake, sitting straight up in bed. Someone had come in through the front door, surely no one would have the guts to break into Miguel’s house, he would rip them to pieces if he found out.

You subconsciously leaned closer to the bedroom door as the creaking of the floorboards echoed closer to the room. He sat stiff in bed until a shadow cast under the door across the floor and the door handle rustled quietly. You quickly laid back down and closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Whoever it was, maybe they would leave you alone if they thought you were asleep.

–––––——

As Miguel opened the bedroom door he saw you sprawled out on his bed and caught a smile forming on his lips. He quietly walked closer to you, kneeling by the side of the bed your face was facing toward. He whispered softly and you felt yourself hold your breath as you realized who it was.

“Hey… I’m home. Are you sleeping?”

Miguel questioned to see if you would answer. 

You pretended to just be waking up out of a deep sleep, rubbing your eyes and blinking them slowly open, looking across the sheets at Miguel. This interaction felt… different. Yes, on one hand you were laying in his bed but Miguel had actually come home. And he had told you that he was home too. It almost made your heart skip a beat.

“I am now…”

You mumbled and he pursed his lips.

“Sorry if I woke you up… I was worried…”

His sentence catches you off guard. He was worried about you? That wasn’t like him.

“Worried? Are you sure you’re Miguel?” You carefully sit up and he watches you closely with his eyes and nods to you.

“I was watching videos of Gabriela and it made me think of you… I think… you remind me of her and my wife…”

The room is filled with silence after he shares that information with you. Is that why he had begun to spend more time around you at work? Moreover, you weren’t sure how to feel but it seemed like your body had already decided that for you as you felt your cheeks and ears heat up and your heart practically thumping out of your chest. Miguel could hear it through the silence. He’d always had great hearing since he had become spider-man.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

You quickly intervene.

“No! I’m not uncomfortable! I just didn’t expect you to say that… it caught me off guard, that was really sweet of you…”

Miguel studies your face a while longer before looking down to the floor.

“There’s something about you that has been keeping you on my mind… no matter what I’m doing I can’t stay focused… I don’t know what it is…”

It takes you a moment to process what he said before realizing what those feelings typically mean.

Miguel O’Hara was falling for you.

Before thinking you blurted out your thoughts.

“Love-”

You quickly pause and his eyes shoot up to meet yours as he understands what you’re getting at. He thinks about it for a moment before nodding slowly, processing the things he’s been feeling and deciding that made the most sense.

“Yeah… I think you’re right…”

You gaze into his eyes, noting the mixture of red and brown swirling in them. Had you noticed that before? You notice that both of you seem to only have inches of distance between eachother as you continue to study his face.

Miguel knows he’s moving closer to you but he can’t seem to stop himself as he brings a hand carefully to hold your cheek. His hand is so big compared to you and it intrigues him. Before he knew it his face was just centimeters away from yours. He seemed to be looking deep into your eyes for so much as a hint of permission to go further. You give him a small nod and he locks his lips into yours, his hand wandering to the back of your head, your hair loosely tangled around his fingers.

Miguel shifts himself, keeping his lips locked onto yours as he carefully makes room to get in bed next to you. As he lays next to you, you pull your lips away to breathe and you give him a dazed expression. He smiles at how boggled you look.

“Is that a confession…?”

You breathe the words out almost inaudibly and he places a gentle kiss on your lips in response.

“Yeah… I suppose so…”

Miguel pushed his face into the crook of your neck and breathes in your scent, his body visibly relaxing as he does so, his eyes closed and his breathing slowing. You realize that he’s falling asleep and gently pet his head with a small smile, placing a gentle kiss to his head and closing your eyes aswell, falling asleep with your arms wrapped around him.

It couldn’t get better than this.

[redheadspark]

17. Renting out a cottage together by a small town, and taking new identities for the summer. hmm, It would be interesting to see reader & Barry do this :P

A/N - I love this. This will be nice and short. Thanks for requesting this, Stella.

Summary - Official

Warnings - Just fluff.

“I didn’t think that was going to work!”

“Aye, well you don’t me well enough, don’t ya?”

“Not really since you were giggling like a school boy when you gave them your name….or your apparent stage name,” 

Your boyfriend, actor Barry Keoghan, gave you a roll of the eyes as you two were unpacking your little car with your suitcases and a bag filled with snacks and groceries.  The soft sounds of the highway were behind the pair of you since the small little road that lead to your rental.

A small quaint cottage that was out in the countryside, built from stone with a lavender garden in the back and a great view of the rolling hills to the left that had a herd of sheep already grazing the field.  Barry found the rental, thinking it would be a great idea for you two to have the summer to spend together.  He had no upcoming projects until the fall, and your job was going slow enough for some of the employees to take time off.  You were saving up your time off and taking some vacation days, so now you had the entire summer to look forward to. 

Barry whisked you away a few days after booking the cottage, you having no idea what was going on or how long you two were going to be gone.  But it was a thrill to pack your bag, knowing full well that Barry knew how to plan real well when it came to you.  Although he was rising up as an actor and was getting some recognition wherever you two went as a couple, he didn’t want to have anyone to know that he was renting a small cottage with his girlfriend for the summer.  You two really had some run ins with the papparazii in the past, so the last thing he wanted was cameras pointing at the two of your trying to relax and enjoy the summer. 

Of course Barry was ballsy to begin with, more of the daredevil than you ever were.  But using a fake name?  That was new.  

It worked in his favor though, the sweet old lady who owned the cottage had no idea who he was or that he was an actor.  She made you two a plateful of cookies, which was perched on the countertop as soon as Barry opened the door into the small cottage. It had no much character to it, from the wooden stairs and old rugs to the pictures that were tainted in history and age and the wooden burning fireplace. You thought of it as charming, thinking of the plenty of viistiors that came and stayed in those walls that had happy holidays.

“Good choice, Barry,” You hummed as Barry placed the suitcases on the bottom step of the stairs.

“You had little faith in me,” Barry countered back at you, you trying to smack his arm but he dodged it and laughed, “I thought you would like a place like this.  The photos don’t do justice,”

“I can’t believe you said your name was Reggie Fairchild,” You joked with him as he was unloading the snacks into the pantry, “That’s such an actor name,”

“Which means they won’t suspect me being…..me,” Barry said, placing the last of the snacks in the pantry and then looking around the room, “So, what should we do first?”

You were looking around the living room when he asked you, seeing the loveseat couch next to the fireplace and the two massive windows that were showing the rolling green hills.  You never heard such quietness in some time, even back at your apartment or in your work cubicle.  This kind of quiet would seem daunting to others, but not with you.  It filled you up and wrapped around your bones, already making you ready for a peaceful summer with Barry.

Although he was used to living the life of an actor, going to parties and premiers to be seen and be hired, he was more of a homebody.  Apart from boxing, Barry had no real need to being out and about public most of the time, he would rather be at home with you.  You were thinking that he was simply wanting to top out from being at a party or at a sponsor event, but hr truly told you he love being at home. 

Later on he confessed he would rather just be with you.

You were no fan of bring in the spotlight, he knew that when you two first got together.  You thought that would be a deal breaker with him, but he still stayed.  You never cared for going to premiers on his arm or to parties as his plus one, but you did to the more important ones that you knew would help his career in the end.  But the rest of the parties, you stayed behind and let him have fun.  He was a goos boyfriend to you, you never once loosing your trust in him or having doubts about him being faithful. 

When it came to going on holiday, he would let you pick.  Of course he had the means of gong anywhere in the world, connections left and right being able to take him to distant lands and paradise if he wanted.  But he would let you decide since, giving you a bit too much pressure.  This cottage was merely an idea you had months before when you two were snuggling in bed, thinking of the next holiday you both wanted to take together.

“Let’s go to a cottage together,” You said to him as you were about to drift asleep, “A little cottage, with on one else around.”

He remembered, and now you were about to have the best summer ever.

“I know precisely what I want to do,” You said to him, seeing him walk over to you from his spot in the kitchen.  Taking his hand in yours, you both walked to the main bedroom on the first floor, the bedroom you two would use during your time there.  The quilt on the bed was already turned down, massive goose feathered pillows were fluffed and ready at the head of the bed, and the two little windows were already perched open to let in the breeze.  It was such a simple looking room, but you grinned widely as you looked from the bed to Barry.

“Of first official nap on holiday,” You said to him, seeing him break into a massive smile.

“Good thinkin’, darlin’.” He said in agreement.  

So you both stripped off your sweatshirts, down to your loose pants and shirts.  Slipping under the quilt with your head on his chest, his arms around your shoulders with his fingers running up and down your spine , you both were closing your eyes.  Letting your summer together finally sink in and begin. You had no idea what you were going to have for dinner that night, nor for breakfast the follow morning.  You had no idea what you two were going to go to pass the time.  

In fact, there were no real plans for your entire summer, but that was what you loved.  

The End

[zillobeastbait]

Till the End - Ch. 1 - Pt. 3

Chapter 1

Endings and Beginnings

photos from Pinterest, moodboard by me

“Why are you in my house?” Comes a voice from behind him. Daryl spins around and aims towards where the voice came from. He sees a sharp movement from lower towards the ground and aims his bow lower till her can see. “P-please don’t hurt m-me.” A small girl has tears running down her face and is hugging a stuffed cow close to her. “Your ‘ight. I ain’t gon hurt ya.” Daryl lowers his aim off of the girl and looks her over for a minute. “Where's your parents kid?” Daryl looks around the corner to see if someone is about to come in after her. “They left a couple of days ago and haven't come back.” The girl sniffles as she talks, making it take longer for her to respond. “Sorry kid but they're probably gone.” Daryl decides to talk to the kid since he doesn’t think she’s going anywhere else, at least not for a while. “You mean they're not coming back?” The little girl looks like she’s about to start crying all over again and Daryl is too busy taking cans and jars out of the girl’s pantry to realize it. “Nah kid, they’re-” Daryl stops when he hears the girl start crying again, this time harder. “Ah, shit. Look I’m sorry. I’m not used to kids.” Daryl kneels on the ground in front of her in hopes that he can calm her down. He doesn’t know what else to do, yet before he can come up with anything the girl leans her body onto his. Daryl’s body tenses and freezes on the touch. He sits like that for a moment before he cautiously moves his arms around her. “What's your name kid?” Daryl speaks as softly as he can, realizing that his voice may scare her. “Crimson.” She says through her sniffles. “Daryl Dixon.” he simply says back to her. “Oh, Crimson Mills. That's my full name.” She pulls out of the weird hug slowly, just enough to see his face. Daryl keeps his hands on her shoulders, as if she may run away. “Alright Crimson Mills, would you like to come back to where I’m staying? I hate to break it to you, but your parents probably aren’t coming back. But I’ll tell you what, we can leave them a note so they can find you if they do come back?” Daryl tries to sound as nice as he can, and he tries to read her face but he can’t tell if she's going to start crying again or not. Instead of replying, Crimson just nods her head. “Alright, do you want to write the note?” Again, Crimson just nods in response before she runs off. Daryl sits for a moment, lost in thought. What the heck were they going to do with a kid? He only wastes a second more before packing up the rest of the kid’s food. By the time he’s brought the bag out to his bike, he sees that the girl has left the note on the counter. She had come down a little earlier to ask where to put that her parents could pick her up. He told her to just write the prison, and they would know where it was. She came out the door with the backpack on, full of the things that Daryl had helped her pack. Some clothes, her coloring book, her string that she used to make bracelets, and she held her stuffed cow, who he has learned is named Moo Moo, in her arms. “Ready? I ain’t wain all day.” She only nods yes in return and shuts the door to her house behind her. When she sees that none of the monsters are close, she walks to the gate. She glances up at Daryl, sending him a worried look. “ ‘Ts alright, they won’t get ya” He opens the gate for her and lets her through before closing it behind her. He lifts her up and sets her on the motorcycle seat, in front of where he will sit. He shows her where to lean forward slightly and hold onto the handlebars. “Ready?” Daryl looks down and expects her to only nod, but to his surprise, she responds. “Yes, I love motorcycles.” He sees the giant grin on her face and almost smirks himself. As they take off towards the prison Crimson doesn’t even realize that her parents are with all the other monsters watching as they drive by. Her thoughts stuck to the fact that she was riding on a motorcycle. She is only six.

-----

Part 1

Part 2

I promise it gets better, this is kinda just the sucky intro chapter

Thanks for reading though and as always support your artists by liking, commenting, and re-blogging!

[reborrowing]

siblings and secrets (Stranger Swap)

For GT July - Secret

I live on the west coast! I have 15 minutes left of day three!!

Hollow secretly checks in on his outcast younger sibling when he has the chance and finds out Val has been keeping a much more dangerous, exotic secret from the local borrower colony. Word Count: ~1800 content warning for fear and hand stabbing, I guess. Stranger Swap main post

Hollow snuck along the attic rafters to the far east end of the apartment complex. Whenever he was supposed to go out and meet with traders, he got up early to run this errand first. He didn’t think anyone had ever noticed. Val certainly hadn’t, even though it was Val that he was checking on.

He dropped down and followed a pipe to the cavity overhanging the kitchen. It was a comfortably cramped space, kept at a good temperature by an overhead duct and had easy access to both a water pipe and the most important space in the inner apartment. Some day he or Chai or someone was going to have to talk to Val about installing real security, but for today he just took advantage of how easy it was to get into the loft.

He slowed as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Val had left an electric tea light flickering on the table. A cap full of crushed mint gave a pleasant smell to an otherwise musty space. The pantry shelves were satisfactory, though the contents were bland. No perishables, nothing too fresh, and not particularly balanced, but Hollow wasn’t concerned with any of that. He wasn’t trying to ensure his sibling was living in luxury, he just wanted to make sure the runt was keeping themself alive.

In the next room over, Hollow had expected to find his sibling curled up in the corner, given the early evening hour but the bed was empty. His hackles rose as he swept through the loft more carefully, checking every nook a nervous borrower might choose to curl up in. He found Val’s  bag slung over a cork stool and a knotted harness hanging on the wall, but no Val.

He tried to convince himself that it was nothing to worry about. Val didn’t need to be home, they were free to live life on their own weird, daytime schedule if they wanted. But Hollow had a gut feeling that he couldn’t ignore, that something was wrong. It had been just a few months since Val had said they’d been discovered, hadn’t it? Those tenants had left, but what if it had happened again? Or worse.

Hollow followed a stapled ladder down into the apartment and squeezed through a hole carved into the back of the cupboard. The sounds of the apartment grew less muffled and he paused. Someone was home, he could hear them chattering and moving around. They weren’t close, but they were here. It would be smart to simply come back later once the lights were off. But he was already here on the wrong side of the complex, and he had other plans for the night that he couldn’t put off without someone asking what he was up to. And he’d gone dumber places to do dumber things, really.

He picked a careful path through the cupboard. It was such a tightly-packed mess that it was difficult to maneuver through, even at Hollow’s size. He wove around haphazardly balanced packages towards the door panel and forcefully shoved his shoulder against it to get the latch to disengage.

He froze as the conversation in the apartment picked up again. The voices were still distorted, but they were much louder. A large shadow passed over the thin line of light where he’d cracked the cupboard open and Hollow drew back. How had he missed the footsteps drawing so close?

“Seriously, it’s not that hard, I promise. Kids do it, you’ll be fine” a woman said.

“You bought a fire extinguisher after last time.”

Hollow’s stomach sank. That was Val. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but that was Val’s voice. They didn’t sound afraid or hurt, at least, but that only mattered so much. Too much of anything was dangerous. And humans were too much of everything. Even their kindness could smother and crush.

Not to mention that the colony would probably kick them out of the complex if they found out Val was breaking the main rules again.

The woman with Val laughed.

“I should’ve had one before! But besides, this is basically just boiling water, you can’t mess it up. It’s barely even cooking,” the woman said.

“You said that about the eggs.”

“And now I’ve had second thoughts about how much you’ve never had to know, and came up with something easier.”

A set of fingers dug behind the door just below and Hollow staggered back into the mess of the cupboard. He dove into an empty space as light flooded into the compartment. In his rush, he tripped over a bag of chocolate chips, sending a box overhead teetering and crashing into the newly opened space where the human stood.

Val grunted and Hollow automatically leaned forward with concern. It wasn’t enough to get himself seen, but thought he could steal a look at the tenant and what the human might be doing with his sister. At first, all he saw was a downturned head of curls.

“Sorry! I keep meaning to clean that out, especially since…well, you,” the woman said.

“It’s fine,” Val sighed.

The face tilted back up to scan the cupboard and Hollow jerked backwards in horror. It wasn’t just the idea of being discovered, he was still sure that he hadn’t been seen. It was…His thoughts kept shattering before they could finish the very impossible thought.

He knew that face. He recognized it. Or, flashes of it, because it refused to add it up to a whole. The dark curls, the angle of their jaw, the tawny skin, the unusual golden eyes. Their mothers’ nose, the same shape as Hollow’s own. 

As he edged further into the shadows, his elbow rubbed against the same bag he’d tripped over a few seconds ago. The rustling sound was soft, barely noticeable. Those golden eyes flicked right towards it. Right towards Hollow. His heart skipped a beat as they focused on him and flashed with recognition, then shock. The two stared at each other without moving for several long seconds.

“Hollow?” whispered the thing that looked like Val.

This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t possible.

This wasn’t worth getting caught over.

Whatever had actually happened to Val, whatever this thing was, Hollow would deal with it at another time. He bolted and if something wasn’t between him and his escape, he didn’t care to think about it. He went much quicker now that he didn’t care about knocking things over or making noise.

“Wait!”

Humans’ speed was always surprising, given their size, and Hollow could swear that this thing was even faster. They hopped onto the counter for better reach. Massive shadows danced overhead as they tore apart the contents of the cupboard.

“Woah, hey! What’s hollow? What are you doing?” asked the woman he’d heard earlier.

“There’s someone in there,” they answered as they dragged away a plastic bin that had been just in front of Hollow.

Hollow stopped suddenly, his stomach twisting with dread. They weren’t ripping away pieces of cover at random. They knew where Hollow was going. They knew more about how to get back into the walls of this unit better than Hollow did and they had a good headstart getting to them.

“Hollow, I won’t hurt you. It’s just me,” Val said softly.

They could hardly be just anything if they had figured out how to turn themself into a human, let alone just Val. He didn’t want to know what someone would have to do to become such a monster.

“You know them?” the woman asked.

“We’re siblings,” Val said.

There was a pause.

“They live here too?” the woman asked, sounding guarded.

“Not here-here, no, but closeby. I don’t know what he’s doing here,” Val said. “Hollow, could you please at least answer me? Can we talk?”

Several seconds passed. Hollow felt his throat drying out and swelling shut, he couldn’t imagine what he was supposed to say. The two weren’t close anymore. He didn’t know how he was supposed to reconcile his memory and mental image of timid, fawning Val with the giant standing in the apartment. He grit his teeth and tensed to try and keep himself from trembling.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Val said.

Too late, Hollow realized that it was a warning.

His stomach lurched as Val’s fingers wrapped around the box behind him. He panicked at the idea of being exposed, at being grabbed again, and rammed the blade of his prosthetic into the nearest finger.

“Ow! I’m not grabbing you, shithead, just the—you don’t have to stab me!” they snapped.

They flinched backwards, yanking Hollow off the stable floor of the shelf before he could manage to free his blade. He smacked against the side of the box as Val knocked it over. He landed against a paper bag that showered him in a cloud of sugar for a few dazed seconds. Val—it wasn’t fair—runty Val had just flung them across a cupboard. Reflexively. His chest tightened as he pushed himself back up to run while they were dealing with their hand.

“He stabbed you? Are you okay? Is he okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

“No kidding!” they hissed.

Hollow risked a glance back. Val pressed on the wound with their other hand, graciously giving him the space he needed to make it to the hole in the wall and escape. Val took a breath and squeezed their eyes shut for a moment to keep their temper down.

“I’m fine,” they said. “And he’s…shit, stop! Hollow!”

There was a long, defenseless moment when Val could’ve easily grabbed him. That crack in the wall was narrow and it took time to squirm through. His heart hammered in anticipation as he fully expected to feel something clamp down around his legs and pull him back into the light. He flopped safely onto unfinished wood. His heart kept racing as half-expected those massive fingers to try to pry their way into the walls.

He didn’t sit around to wait for that to happen and got up to sprint for the ladder. He stopped to catch his breath once he reached the loft and ended up sinking to the floor in tears as he tried to make sense of what just happened. He had just wanted to make sure Val was safe. He wasn't sure how to answer that now.

The wall of the loft shuddered as something on the other side tapped against the drywall. Hollow slithered in the opposite direction.

Of course.

Of course Val knew where their own damn loft was.

“Look, I don’t know what you're doing here, if you're spying on me or... I get it if you don't want to talk with me like this. Just, don’t tell anyone about this. Please,” Val said.

As if anyone would believe me.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 104: Evolving and Adapting

TWs in the tags

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Before leaving, Puppy reluctantly puts her stuffed animals into her bag, along with everything nonperishable from the pantry that you and Leo didn't pack for yourselves. You think that's a good sign. She also grabs all the medical supplies in the house, which makes you feel really stupid for not thinking of that earlier. Before closing the bag up, she takes out two water bottles and passes them to you and Leo.

"If we're going to need water for the walk you will too," Leo says.

Puppy takes out one more water bottle mechanically and closes the garbage bag, then heads out the front door. You and Leo follow.

"Leo, make sure to let us know if you need a break, or help carrying your stuff." You say.

"I will. I'm not feeling too bad, though."

You believe them. It's been a long time since they were even a little okay, and the difference is very noticeable.

"We should ask the day and year as soon as we get to town." Leo jokes. "Like time travelers."

"Fuck, it'll be so nice to know what day it is again, and what time it is. I've definitely missed that."

"There are so many small things we'll finally get back." 

After a bit of silence, Puppy starts humming a lighthearted song. You feel like your heart could burst from happiness. So many small things…

Unfortunately, you're quickly distracted from that feeling by the annoyance of carrying full garbage bags through the woods. Your bag quickly collects several tiny tears, but luckily none are big enough for anything to fall out. It just means you have to hold the bag very carefully so that extra weight isn't put on the tears, causing them to get wider.

"We really should've double or triple bagged this stuff… or brought the box of garbage bags." You grumble.

Leo laughs. "We haven't gotten that far, we can go back if you want."

"Oh, no, I'm never going back. I'm just annoyed that we planned so much and didn't even think about what carrying this stuff through the woods would be like."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you have a group of three people where one is severely sleep deprived and probably still starving, one is experiencing withdrawal, and one is…"

"Brain damaged." You finish for them. Stupid Bunny.

"Right. Um… I'm really sorry I called you stupid, back in the basement. I don't think you're stupid."

"I am stupid. It's okay."

"B– Li– Austin. You're the one that found a way to kill Jane. You're so smart, and even if you weren't, you're so brave and compassionate. You're amazing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, even me."

Are you… tearing up? "Thank you. You're… both of you are amazing too."

Leo smiles. "Of course we are. Just a little group of amazing people."

The rest of the walk is quiet. Trying to avoid your bag ripping open takes a lot of mental and physical energy. That'll be the first thing you buy when you get into town– new bags. And something for Puppy to drink to prevent her dying from malnutrition.

You take plenty of breaks, initiated by Amanda more often than not. She always opens her bag during breaks too, without ever taking anything out. When you asked her why, she took a stuffed animal out of her bag and showed it to you, which… didn't answer your question. Leo told you not to worry about it for now.

You feel… tense, stepping into the town. The last time you were in any kind of human civilization, Jane killed a lot of people to punish you.

It's pretty dark. You clear your throat. "Puppy, do you think the grocery store will still be open?"

Puppy shakes her head.

"Okay. Let's find a hotel. In the morning we can go get new bags and something for you to drink, and then… if there's a library we can use the computers to look at all the hotels nearby and see what's cheapest. Sound good?"

Puppy nods.

"So… do we just wander around until we find a hotel?" Leo asks.

You look over the three of you. "That'd be a good way to get the cops called on us."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?"

"That's… a good question. Maybe we should've waited until morning to leave…"

"I'd rather spend all night in the woods than spend more time in that house than necessary. I… guess those are our options. Wander around trying to find a hotel, stay in the woods all night, or head back to the house. Should we… do a vote or something?"

None of those options sound particularly good. "I don't even know which one I want."

"Yeah… I guess we could split up, too."

You immediately shake your head. "Whatever we do, it should be together."

"But one person wandering around a town at night is a lot less suspicious than three people. Especially if said person leaves their bag of stuff here to be watched by the others."

Puppy stares at her open bag for a moment and then sighs. You guess she didn't bring anything to write with. "I think I'd be the best for that. I look the most pitiful." She lets her hair fall so that her missing ear is uncovered and touches the bandages on her face. "And I'm a scrawny white woman. It'd be harder to interpret me as a threat. Even if the police were called, I'd probably be fine. I've also been here before. I'll have an easier time navigating, even if I don't know exactly where to find a hotel."

These are all great points. "But… what if you get hurt?"

"I know people here. Including a lot of criminals, most of whom probably think Jane is still alive. People are less likely to mess with me than with either of you."

"But… I mean, if we're bringing race and gender into this, isn't it less safe for a woman to walk around alone at night? There are threats besides career criminals, people you probably never would've met."

"I'm not saying there are no risks. It's just the least risky option. Unless you think it's safer to wander through the woods at night, or sleep in the woods without shelter?"

Leo nods. "It does sound the least risky… though, to be fair, even if it does work, we'll have to walk to the hotel as a group with our garbage bags of stuff anyway. I mean, I'm the one that suggested it, but I don't think it makes much of a difference whether one of us finds the hotel, comes back, and guides the others or we just look around as a group for a while."

Leo's the best. "Right! Let's just go together. You should definitely lead, still. Like you said, you know this town the best. We'll look suspicious no matter what we do, let's just stick together."

Puppy hesitates, then nods.

"Perfect! Let's go."

Puppy walks quickly through the streets until you get to an area with fewer homes and more businesses, then starts moving more slowly, inspecting each building. Fairly soon after you've started searching, you stop in front of a building very clearly labeled as a hotel.

"I… think we spent more time arguing than it actually took to find this place." You say.

"Eh. Better safe than sorry." Leo pulls open the door. "After you."

It takes a bit of effort to get everyone's garbage bags through the door without ripping them, but you all manage it. The hotel clerk stares at the three of you the whole time, which you guess is fair. 

Leo sets their bag down and goes up to the front desk. "Are there any vacancies?"

The clerk puts on a customer service smile. "We do. What are you looking for?"

…you never discussed if you were going to share a room, or how many beds you'd want. Luckily Leo seems undeterred.

"The cheapest room available, please."

"How many nights?"

"One."

The clerk types something into a computer and gives the price. Puppy starts taking out some of the cash and counting it. 

"...do you take cash?" You ask. Probably should've asked that sooner.

"We can, but you would still need a card on file."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"...Do you know of anywhere that doesn't need a card on file?" Leo asks.

"Nope."

The three of you look at each other. What are you supposed to do now?

Puppy goes up to the desk and places down the cash she just counted out. "I have a card."

There's no way that's true, but she reaches into her pocket anyway. She pulls something out, holding it in a way that covers most of it, but you notice a flash of green and realize it's just more money. She passes it to the clerk.

"Are you… trying to bribe me?"

Puppy nods.

The clerk looks at the money, then types something into the computer. They hand Puppy a key. "You'll be in room 104. Check-out is at 11 AM tomorrow.”

Puppy smiles at the clerk and heads down the hall, looking for the room. Leo grabs their bag, and the two of you follow Puppy.

"We don't have to hide," Leo says. "We can go try and get cards tomorrow."

Puppy unlocks the door labeled '104' and leads you inside. It's a pretty small room, and it only has one bed.

"Uh–"

"Puppy and you will share the bed. I know both of you would be fine with all three of us sharing the bed, so since I'm the one with the problem, I'll sleep on the ground."

They already did that sometimes at the house, when they wanted to be close to you but not sharing a bed close, so you aren’t as concerned as you might’ve been otherwise. If they chose to sleep on the ground when they had access to a bed, obviously it’s not that uncomfortable to them. They’re the one that asked for the cheapest possible room, anyway, they must’ve expected this.

"Yeah, let's make you a nest." You find extra blankets in a closet, take most of the pillows from the bed, and start the nest-making process. Leo tries to help as much as they can, but it really is just a one-person job. Puppy sets her stuffed animals on the bed.

“We should all get showered and change,” Leo suggests. “We’re dirty from walking through the woods.”

“Great idea!” You finish up the nest. “Puppy and I should replace our bandages, too.”

“You do that while I shower,” Leo says, pulling a clean outfit out of their bag.

“Perfect.” You bring Puppy to the bathroom and remove the bandages on her face and neck while Leo gets in the shower.

You wet a towel and start to clean her wounds. “I’ve been thinking. It’s okay if you don’t want to sleep tonight, I’m not as worried about that as you not eating. No one’s going to shock you when you start to drift off or anything, so you’ll fall asleep eventually no matter what. If you want to try and stay up tonight, though, I want to keep you company.”

You replace the old bandages with clean ones. Puppy doesn’t say anything. She takes your hand and takes off the bandage.

“Oh, I can do that myself.”

Puppy raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I guess… you could’ve done your face and neck yourself…” It honestly didn’t even occur to you. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask.”

She waves dismissively and starts to clean the cut on your hand. 

“So!” You say loud enough that Leo can hear you over the shower. “Tomorrow, we’re going shopping and getting ourselves cards. Not necessarily in that order. Then we’ll use library computers to find the cheapest hotel nearby, and… go there. We’ll also research the buses around here.”

Puppy rebandages your hand. “We… need IDs. To get cards.”

“…shit. I lost track of mine after I came to the house, Jane probably took it. Leo, do you have access to any of your IDs?”

“I didn’t even have mine before Jane took me. I assume yours are lost too, Puppy?”

Puppy nods.

“She said yes. And we don’t even remember our names…” You frown. This is going to be a problem.

The shower turns off and Leo grabs a towel to dry themself. That was fast. “You remember your last name, don’t you? There’s that. And me and Puppy know your first name. Do you remember your social security number?”

You try to remember. There’s a shape to it, a rhythm you followed whenever you had to share it… but you can’t remember what actually went inside the rhythm. You don’t know if that’s because of the brain damage or just regular forgetting. “I don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t know mine either. We’ll just… maybe you can get your hands on your school records? Or maybe someone you knew before could vouch for you? I mean, there are people who don’t even get a birth certificate when they’re born and they can still get IDs as an adult, so there’s got to be something we can do.” They get into their clean clothes. “We can worry about it tomorrow. I’m going to bed. We’ll want to get up pretty early tomorrow so that we can leave our stuff in here while we shop.” They exit the bathroom, leaving just you and Puppy.

“Hmm… maybe we should’ve replaced the bandages after showering…” stupid Bunny. “I guess we’ll just do our best not to get the bandages wet? And it’s not that big of a deal if we have to replace them again. Do you want to shower first?”

Puppy nods and leaves the bathroom to get clean clothes from her bag. She was allowed to shower when she wanted unless she was in the basement, so you don't think she'll need a lot of support in this. Having no reason to hang around in the bathroom, you go to hang out with Leo in the main room while Puppy showers.

Leo is playing with the clock on the nightstand. "I'm trying to set an alarm… if we get up at 7, we should have time to shop and stuff, right? Mostly I just want to be able to get back here and re-bag our stuff before we check out. It would be especially nice if we could do the shopping and the library research before we check out, so we don't have to worry about if we'll be allowed into the library with garbage bags full of stuff."

"Will stores even be open that early?"

"...I don't know. We'll have to ask Puppy. I'll leave the alarm at 7 for now, though." They set down the clock. "I really missed knowing the time. This is awesome."

You look over the small room. It's unremarkable in most ways, but… it has a clock. And you can leave whenever you want to. "It really is."

Leo yawns and goes to dig through their bag. "We should all eat something before bed. Or at least drink some water." They pull out a box of raisins and pour the contents into their mouth. "I'll try to convince Puppy to drink some water while you shower. Think you can handle convincing her to sleep? I heard you talking about it, but I didn't catch everything."

"I should be able to. I said I'd stay up and keep her company if she doesn't want to sleep– which I will do if she refuses to sleep– but I think if I just asked her to lie down with me she'd fall asleep quickly whether she wants to or not. It helps that this room is so small, she won't be able to keep herself awake pacing."

Leo nods. "Perfect. I, uh… I wish we didn't have to constantly push her, but we can't just let her hurt herself without trying to help… It's not fair that we get to adjust before working on any heavy-duty deconditioning while she has to be working on it constantly… But putting ourselves through that by taking off our collars or something wouldn't make things any easier for her."

"It sucks." You agree. "It wasn't fair for you to have to deal with withdrawal, either."

"...Yeah. I guess… we take care of each other. We have for a long time. And if we take turns, that's even better, because it means the person who's struggling can get the full undivided attention of the others."

"Exactly." You dig through your bag for some granola bars and have those and some water for dinner. Not the best meal ever, but far from the worst. 

Puppy emerges from the bathroom, her bandages still dry. She couldn't have been in there for longer than five minutes…

"Have you guys always showered that fast?" You ask.

"The water's cold," Leo says. "I… guess we could've waited… but in a place this big it would've taken forever. Better to just get it over with." 

Puppy nods in agreement.

"Okay…" You grab some clean clothes from your bag and head to the bathroom. "I'm gonna have a nice, warm shower, if possible, so… goodnight. Love you."

–

Puppy wishes she had waited, or spent longer in the shower. All she does when she's around is worry the others.

Kitty hasn't started pestering her to sleep or eat or drink yet, though. They look deep in thought.

She's so tired, and the white noise of the shower certainly isn't helping her stay awake. She forces herself to walk in place.

"It's weird, right?"

Puppy has no idea what they're talking about specifically, but she nods. Everything's weird right now.

"I mean… it didn't even occur to me to wait. I just… I guess the pathway in my brain between 'uncomfortable stimuli' and 'endure it' is so well-trodden other solutions didn't occur to me. Did it occur to you?"

Puppy shakes her head.

"Exactly. It's like… those guys that tortured those poor dogs… what's the word… Learned helplessness! That's what they call it. When you can't do anything to protect yourself for so long that you start to assume there's no escape without even checking."

Puppy remembers Master teaching them about that experiment… it's not a pleasant memory, but it could've been worse.

"It's good to be aware, though. I'm glad she taught us so much about psychology, at least. It was to hurt us and taunt us, but now it can be really helpful." They smile. "We'll have to look out for that. Times where we could make ourselves more comfortable easily but aren't."

Puppy is so, so tired. She misses just having to endure. Having all these choices… it's so hard. Things weren't easy before, but they were… simple. She misses that, even if she doesn't miss the torture.

"It'll be hard because we still have to endure a lot of things. We don't know when we'll next get money, so we'll have to settle for a lot of uncomfortable things to make it last as long as possible. So I guess… we just need to think of the reason we're uncomfortable. Make sure it's something we're consciously choosing and not just falling into because we're used to it."

Puppy nods along, but she doesn't really want to be comfortable. Comfort is for when Master chooses to give it, otherwise… it makes her sloppy. Like, if she was comfortable right now, she would fall asleep without permission.

Master is dead. Master is dead. Master is dead so she's never going to get to feel comfortable again– stop that!

"-uppy?" Her thoughts are interrupted. "Would you please sit down? Or… stop marching in place?"

She reluctantly stops moving.

"Thank you. I need you to drink some water, alright? You didn't drink any on our way here."

She feels… guilty. Like a kid getting caught not eating their vegetables. All she does is make people worry!

She grabs the water bottle she was supposed to drink during the walk and chugs it until there's none left. She wordlessly begs Kitty to stop worrying, to be satisfied.

"Thank you." They sound so relieved that she can almost ignore the waves of terror crashing over her. "Let's do something to keep your mind off it. Um…" They look around the fairly barren room. "Wanna play twenty questions?"

Puppy nods. A distraction would be nice.

"Okay, think of a person, place, or thing. You got one in mind?"

Puppy, not feeling very creative, decides on 'hotel.' She nods.

"Okay, is it a person?"

The two of them play a few rounds before Bunny finishes with his shower. Puppy feels a bit better about drinking water without permission again, as long as she doesn't think about it.

"Alright, I'm really tired, are you two going to be okay if I go to sleep?"

Puppy nods.

"Get some sleep." Bunny says. 

"Oh, wait– I set the alarm for 7 AM, do you think anything will be open then, Puppy?

Puppy nods. She remembers checking the hours the grocery store was open to try and figure out what time it was. It's open from 7 AM to 10 PM. 

"Sweet! See you in the morning, goodnight." Kitty gets curled up in their nest. 

Bunny turns his attention to Puppy. "Do you want to try going to sleep?"

She slowly shakes her head. She doesn't want to, but she knows she'll have to eventually.

Bunny sits on the bed, legs under the covers. "That's okay. I'll keep you company, like I said. You must be cold, though, after your cold shower. Wanna get under the blankets?"

She knows what he's doing. It's not subtle. But… being warm does sound nice, and she doesn't want to worry Bunny, and he was right that she'd fall asleep eventually anyway, so… it might as well be now, right? Better than passing out when she's needed.

She carefully sets each of her stuffed animals next to the bed before climbing into bed with Bunny and oh– he's warm. That makes sense, but she wasn't expecting it. She cuddles up close to him.

"Thank you." Bunny says, and that's all. He doesn't try to convince her to lie down or rest her eyes. He just holds her, and runs fingers through her hair, and breathes deeply and evenly.

She didn't stand a chance. She falls asleep within the first minute of sitting down.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Let me know if you want a summary of any of these logistics-heavy chapters, I know they're a lot longer than normal and that not everyone finds the logistics of escape and recovery as interesting as I do.

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole @whumplr-reader

[rocksaltandmountainash]

Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 25

* Summary: The Nogitsune is gone. But so is Allison. Even away from Beacon Hills, Kara can't move forward. Set after Teen Wolf season 3, episode 24.

* Previous parts: can be found here.

* Warnings: grief after a major character death, swearing, drinking, violence.

* Gifs: not mine, credit to the owners/creators linked here:  One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

* Word count: 3.9k

When you get anxious, you talk too much. Your mouth runs ahead of your brain, and you babble on and on towards a point, but more often, not. You think it’s your worst habit and envy people whose sentences are clear, people who can keep their shit together. People like Derek Hale.

“Thought you might need these.”

Derek hands you the bag you’d left at his place and a large coffee and sits in the sunny courtyard of the Argent’s apartment building with you, doesn’t ask stupid questions. 

The Nogitsune is dead, or at least gone. You should all be celebrating. Would have liked to share a drink with Derek, maybe a meal. You can’t. 

Derek clears his throat.

“I’m so-”

He decides against telling you he’s sorry, decides he’ll ask his questions another time.

“It’s important to take the full course.” he pushes the antibiotics towards you, then leaves.

*****

“Should eat something,” you say to dead air.

Chris and Isaac both nod absentmindedly.

You open the app for the pizza joint, input the usual order. 

One with all the toppings for Isaac, two if he hadn’t been around for breakfast, or you didn’t hear them poking through the pantry for snacks. One sausage & mushroom, extra mushrooms on half, for her. 

But figuring out the portions feels like quantum math - it doesn’t work for three. You get burgers delivered instead. 

Chris watches Isaac chewing fries like they’re cardboard and tells him about his plans.

Asks gently, “Would you want to come with me?”

When you get sad, you go silent, inward. Lock yourself up and speak only when spoken to, sometimes not.

It’s quiet now. You move around the apartment with barely a sound, check on Isaac - passed out and snoring softly in her room, brush your teeth, splash water on your face. Go to Chris. Slip into his bed, pull him toward you, close your eyes and rub his back while he cries before you both fall into fits of sleep.

But your mind is so loud. Crammed full of thoughts you do your best to push away. This isn’t what you had meant, what you hoped for, when you’d been wishing to wake up in his bed.

Not now.

There are practicalities to deal with, a list of things to check off. Paperwork to be collected from the Medical Examiner, delivered to the bank and the school. Attached to an online form and sent to the private aviation company that will take her to France. Calls to make. Splitting your time between the Argent apartment and the Stilinski home, especially if Noah is working late. You go through all the motions. You try to help.

*****

“Should I go?” Isaac is watching you closely.

You tell him. Some. Enough. About what happened to you, how you never once told, kept your mother’s secret. Later, when it all came out anyway, you couldn’t look people in the eye, always wondering, do they know? Did they know then? How you’d gotten sick of the gossip at school, the furtive looks across supermarket aisles, ‘that’s her. The sister, Lily’s sister’

Tell him how you eventually left, how you’ve never gone back. 

“Maybe it will help? Some distance?”

How are you so good at this? Argent wonders, days later, when you come to bed, update him on the progress of all the different plates you’re spinning. Taking care of things, only burdening him with small bits at a time, drip feeding him information he can manage. Shielding him from the world outside the front door.

“So, Stilinski called. The coroner is done.”

No. Not how. He is familiar with the mechanics of how people survive when they have to. When loss leaves it as your only option.

“Why are you so good at this?”

You look at him blankly.

“At what?”

“All this…” he gestures to the evidence. The bed you had made neat this morning, the water you’ve left on his nightstand, next to the bottle of Advil and a now half-eaten sandwich, the papers you’re holding that he needs to sign.

“I don’t know.”

Don’t tell him it’s because of him, that you’ve mentally decided only one of you can break at a time. After that first night, you curled into yourself. It’s not your turn.

“Argent, when do you want to leave? I need to book the flights.”

*****

A late night trip with Isaac to Walmart for photos. Affidavits written and applications for guardianship stamped, and a rush order on a passport.

Not yet. 

Stiles and Scott text you and Isaac comes in to show you, too. They’re all going to the woods to hang out, to say goodbye to her. 

You reply, tell them you’ll drop Isaac off.

Making sure they’re fed, helping them pack their bags, watching stupid TV but not laughing along like you used to. 

No one sits in her spot.

*****

Not in front of him.

Gather up the piles and go down to the laundry room with Chris. Half way through sorting, you look up, see his frozen, bloodshot eyes staring at the t-shirt Isaac had been wearing. Slashed and stained red brown.

You take it from his hands, stuff it in the trash, tie the strings and take the bag to the dumpster. 

Back to Walmart, the boy doesn’t have enough clothes. 

*****

The three of you don’t stray too far from each other, make sure you’re always aware of where the others are. Chris is coping. Cries, but only at night, so Isaac won’t hear. It seems to happen less and less. You think it’s a good thing, as you leave to run errands and visit Stiles.

It isn’t.

You take Isaac to the Preserve to meet the others, remind him to text if Scott or Stiles can’t give him a lift back. 

When you arrive home, Chris appears agitated and is frantically searching through the office.

“What are you doing?”

He walks straight by, like you don’t exist. Unseeing, unhearing, into the bedroom and upends your duffel onto the covers.

“Hey!”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

He rounds on you, grabs your elbows and backs you up against the dresser. You see now that he’s been searching for solace at the bottom of a bottle.

“You said the Winchesters... They’ve brought people back.”

He steps closer, crowding you, his breath sour sweet from whiskey, his fingers digging into your flesh. You stare past him with your insides flipping,

He’s scaring you. 

“It’s not in any book.”

He grunts, scanning your face for lies. Your entire nervous system kicks into high gear - fight or flight - and you wait for it, the slap or the punch you think is coming. 

“I wouldn’t tell you how, even if I knew.” you lift your chin defiantly. Even with your heartbeat thumping like an earthquake your brain works - calculating that he’s drunk and if needed, you could take him.

“Please.” His anger evaporates into tears.

He looks down, frowning when he sees his own hands tight around your arms. Releases his vice like grip and drops onto the bed.

“No, Chris.”

“I need it.”

“You wanna make a deal? Bring her back, make her live without you? Huh? You’d make her carry that?”

He hangs his head, collapsing under the weight of it.

“I can’t do this.”

“I know,” you exhale, let him reach his hands out, pull you to him, press his head against your stomach, “but you have to.”

You wait till his breathing evens out, but your guard is up when you tell him to go have a shower. Isaac’s dad was a drunken asshole. You won’t let that around him. 

*****

Sneak up to the rooftop with a pack of cigarettes. Smoke too many to calm yourself and pray again to Samandriel. Think you did it wrong. He doesn’t come.

Isaac texts to say he’s spending the night at Scott’s.

*****

The apartment is empty when Chris finishes in the bathroom, scrubbed clean and freshly shaved. He expects you’ve gone and knows he deserves it.

So it’s hopeful, disbelieving eyes that track your return to scoop your things back into your bag. He braces for your departure, but you drop the duffel on the floor and crawl into bed. He’s scared to move, scared you’ll leave. Barely breathing.

“Don’t…don’t ever put your hands on me like that again.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t.”

You scratch through his still damp hair and he moves closer.

“Never.”

“Promise.”

In the morning, while you’re making breakfast, Chris drains the bottles down the sink.

You visit Stiles, watch as he dismantles his crime board, and agree it’s a very good idea when he says he wants to clear his head. 

Let him talk it all out, the Nogitsune, the memories, how close he’d been to letting the illusion take over. 

Hold his hand and take a nap together until the Sheriff nudges you awake. Try not to kick Stiles in the face as you get up to join Noah for a drink. Promise him you’ll stay in touch, and mostly mean it.

*****

Text Stiles, text Scott, text the Sheriff, text Derek. Say goodbye.

Take Isaac and Chris to the airport, get their luggage out of the back seat and slip Isaac a preloaded visa. Remind him, if distance doesn’t work, he can always come home. Hug him tight.

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“She’s got work to do.” Chris says, you’ve let him think you have a plan. 

He hugs you too, kisses you. You miss them before they’re through security.

Just a little longer.

Drive for 5 hours ‘till it feels like far enough, until your thigh feels like it’s on fire. 

Find the shittiest motel you can and pay less than you were expecting for a week.

Lock the door and climb into bed. Lay down into your pain.

Now.

You crack. It’s your turn.

Allison.

*****

The parking lot of the Truckee Olympic Park Motel 6 has been your view for the last seven days. 

Chris and Isaac are in France, all traces of jet lag probably long gone.

You get all of your meals from the diner next to the motel, leaving only long enough for the maids to service the room. Scurry back to your door, to squirrel away and eat with the curtains drawn. 

Or across to the gas station on the other side of the street, middle of the night, to buy cups of gritty coffee that’s only marginally better than what you could brew from the foil packets in the safety of your room, if only you had the energy.

You avoid the curious glances from the other guests and staff and when the kind waitress begins to recognise you, calling your order out to the cook without you having to speak, you realize you need to leave.

But not yet. You’re waiting.

Crawl back into bed, clutching a small leather glove.

*****

Nothing is happening, and you are livid. 

What was the point?  Of all of it - hunters and Void spirits and werewolves and dark-haired girls who get run through by swords. 

Of any of it? If you couldn’t bring her here, manifest something. The jacket slung on the back of a chair moves slightly. You take it as a sign. Cave and call for help.

*****

N.W.A. streams from car speakers, and you race to the window to see Garth pulling up.

He greets you with his usual bear hug, but you cut the chit chat short, leaving him frowning.

“You brought it, right?”

“Yeah,” he produces an EMF meter from his pocket, “You should probably get one.”

“I know.”

You’re tetchy and impatient as Garth configures the machine and wanders around the room.

“So what’s the deal?”

He sweeps it over the bed, where Allison’s glove sits. 

“Think you’re being haunted?”

You peek over at the screen, pray the needle moves, will it to jump, just shift even a tiny bit. It doesn’t, and the fact brings a flood of tears.

“No,” you sob, “I’m not haunted.”

Garth guides you to sit at the rickety table, hands you a fistful of napkins he finds littered about and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

When your crying has slowed to hiccups and sniffs, he moves to sit across from you. Begins asking questions, trying to drag the truth out. You’re not meaning to be secretive, you just can’t make yourself say the words.

Garth speaks slowly, keeps his tone gentle and calm. You figure out why when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror - you’re a mess.

Had forgotten to shower. Your hair is somehow greasy and dry at the same time, sitting flat in lank strands. Usually, you collapse into bed without bothering to change, so your clothes have become creased. You think about it and realize they might be the same ones you arrived in. 

You haven’t seen proper sunlight in a while, and only manage to sleep for a handful of hours at a time, then read old messages from Allison until your phone’s light makes your eyes hurt. So you stare out with haggard eyes, rimmed with dark circles. 

He asks about cold spots.

“I’m not a case, Garth.” you snap, meaner than he deserves.

“Well…what then?”

“I’m...”

Waiting.

Grieving.

Running.

“…just having a bad day.”

*****

Garth leaves, after you’ve showered, and treated him to pancakes as an apology for dragging him all this way just to bitch him out. It still takes a lot of convincing.

You thank Carol, the waitress, leave a fifty under your plate and linger in your room a few more hours, till you know the office is closed and you can drop the keys in the box without conversation.

Gas up the car, head east.

*****

Life passes you by in a series of useless numbers. Counting how many miles to the next motel, the gap between getting a text from Stiles and replying, the time ticking on until you go to bed. 

Try to keep to a reasonable schedule so you don’t feel so lost. Fake a smile at people you encounter and mask yourself with politeness. 

You know how to do this, to pretend. To be good. Like there’s someone watching, keeping score, who will decide you’re worthy of a break in the pain and the guilt and the shame. Some days you want to spit it all out onto strangers. It’s bullshit. It’s all you’ve got. So you just stay quiet.

Somewhere after Salt Lake, but before Omaha, you’ve stopped crying, given up your begging. You feel nothing, but it doesn’t scare you. Nice to be empty. Too easy to sink into it, the familiar way of shrinking yourself. Raise no red flags, pique no one’s interest. Move around undetected, untethered.

*****

You think it’s days later, but it’s been weeks. Garth calls, asks if you will lend a hunter a hand in a town just outside of Minneapolis. Check the map, zoom in on the roads you’ll take and calculate. 

“I’ll be there by 9.”

It’s a nothing job, one wraith against four people. Just something to do, split up the days. 

You shake their hands and decline their invitations of a drink. Jump back in your car and keep heading east, no destination in mind.

*****

Arrive in Illinois and remember, you’d always wanted to visit the places Mohammed Ali had lived and trained. You don’t manage it. 

Lay on a lumpy mattress in another musty motel and let your thoughts swirl. All time ever does is pass, and all you can do is think. Puzzle over your memories to find the turning point, as if it matters, as if you can go back. 

*****

Maybe it was your 16th birthday, when it all went wrong?

Vibrating with excitement all day at school, laughing with your friends, thanking them for the cards they’d made you. Bashful inquiries to the boys, checking they’re coming to the party on Saturday. And Luke? He’s still coming? 

Walking home in the rain, bundled up and glad to enter the house where the fire is on. Mum is in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on your cake. There’s a family dinner planned, just the three of you, like always.

But Lily doesn’t show. No phone call, no answer on her landline. So you wait, and wait. She has to catch a train from the city and then a bus over the hill, after all. 

You check the website for train cancellations while Mum is ringing Lily's flat over and over. They haven’t seen her. She’s most likely on the way. Calling her friends from high school, maybe she got distracted, waylaid at the station. 

Finally, Mum dials 111 with shaking hands and a mouth full of apologies. She’s sure it’s all a misunderstanding, but you never know. Right? Better safe than sorry. 

You didn’t ever really feel safe again after that.

*****

No, not then. Surely, it was later, when you’ve put it behind you (mostly), don’t flinch as much at her name or loud noises.

Years spent building a life for yourself where you’re no longer defined by the loss of your sister, not stained with everything that happened after. Your boss calls you into her office and tells you there is a Police Officer in the lobby who needs to speak with you, and couldn’t get in touch any other way. 

A face you pinpoint from your hometown, plumb your memory for his name and feel the hope rising.

“Sergeant Nelson? Did you find her?”

“No, sorry. I’m not here about Lily.”

“Oh.”

You take him to the break room, make tea and let him speak. Hear him say your Mum is sick, explains how she asked him to track you down. 

He keeps in touch with the families of the cold cases. Any other time, any other person, you’d think he was kind. 

“I don’t want to see her.” 

Feel all your protective layers coming off you, pulling you backwards to that ashamed, defenseless little girl sitting in a police station begging them to leave you alone. You don’t want to lay charges, they’re just making it worse. Nelson, the other officers, and the social worker all tell you it’s not up to you.  

“I understand,” he nods. “Only said I’d try.” 

Try to bring at least one of her daughters home; a small favor for a dying woman. 

*****

Not even that had done it, all the mess she’d left you to deal with. Knotted up on the inside with strings of missing her and hating her. The burden of funeral arrangements, and lawyers, and coroner’s reports. You accept your boss’s offer of a week of bereavement leave, though you tell her you’d only need a few days, so optimistic. 

But you barely made it halfway up the driveway before your breath turned to dust in your lungs. You grabbed your best friend’s arm.

“Can’t do it. Reuben, I can’t go in there.”

“All good.” 

He’s not thrown by the hysteria on your face, takes you back to your flat where you eat mince and cheese pies for dinner and he texts his girlfriend, Priya, to join you after work. 

She brings wine, and you both get buzzed while she helps you make a list. They take over, and you love them for it.

They sort everything - send emails, make calls, arrange between them who will accompany you to all the appointments, and by the end of the week it’s like your mother’s death had never ripped through your meticulously curated life.

The house is paid off, you could sell it if you wanted, the solicitor advises, but you direct him to keep it. Divide the inheritance in thirds, one for you, one in an account for maintaining the property and the last in a trust. 

Just in case. For Lily, if she ever comes back. Illogical, the lawyer thinks but draws up the papers, regardless.

Reuben calls some of his boys, quickly finds someone who will do the lawns and occasionally check the gutters for cheap, says it’s just until you decide what you’ll do with the place. 

They empty the fridge, collect the mail, leave the urn on the sideboard and lock the doors after them. 

You go to a party on the beach, sit with your back to the wind and try to forget about it all. Forget about her. Push aside the memories of her sneering face, spitting cruel words that hurt you more than her fists, and keep a taut grip on all your broken pieces.

On a quiet Friday night weeks later, you eyeball the stack of mail from your Mum’s. Sitting on your desk where it’s been since Reuben brought it over. 

Glance at it every day, think “Gotta sort that”, as you rush off to work or the gym.

Might as well get it over with. Reuben and Priya are having a date night, and it’s too cold to go to the pub. 

You watch crime documentaries as you tear at the letters. Trashing the junk and putting aside anything related to the house or the estate to send onto the lawyers. You find a handwritten envelope addressed to you in the pile and frown at the cursive writing you don’t recognise. Skim the first paragraph with one eye still on your show. Then pause the TV to re-read the first page more closely. Flip the pages and think the paper should be heavier, or scented, gold edged, for the news it contains. You pick up a tiny slip of paper that falls out from the sheets. 

*****

That might have been it. The moment that your life pivoted from being kind of sad but relatively normal to whatever it is now. An impulsive choice to grab your laptop and research how to get to Sioux Falls. Note how you’ll need to fly from Wellington to Auckland, cross to the International terminal and board a plane bound for Houston. Catch another flight from there to Bismarck, connecting through Dallas. Places you know nothing about. Then you’ll need a car. 

It seems possible, do-able. Stupid, but achievable. A plan to latch onto. You could resign from work, and get paid out six years’ worth of unused annual leave. Could tell them you’re off on your OE, a well-deserved holiday. The owners of your place want to sell the building anyway, something about land values and townhouses.

Money won’t be a problem, you think, looking at the eye-watering cost of flights, there’s the barely touched savings stashed away in sensible term deposits and stocks. There’s your portion of the inheritance.

You have a passport - had to get it as a form of ID so you could get your security clearance at work. But it has no stamps - you’ve been nowhere. Never really done anything. You could. Other people do it, travel, explore. Nothing here for you any longer, nothing to stop you, keep you in this town, no family left. 

Dig out your credit card while you consider it and hedge your bets. Decide that even if you don’t get to South Dakota, you can still cross some things off your bucket list. 

It took less than half an hour to book everything. Insane, really, that just a handful of keystrokes changed the entire momentum of your life.

[bobateaboo]

oh boy oh boy guess who crawled out of my animation hole to give y'all a creepypasta! tw for paranoia, POV character worrying about going insane, character death, the works. it's also here on ao3

When you start waking up to less croissants than you set out to rise, pies vacant from where they had been cooling on the window sill, and blank spots on making sheets where cookies were missing from after an hour of nursing them in and out of the large, brick oven so they didn’t burn, you set bells on your windows and tell the neighbors to watch for thieves.

Henry was NOT sure what he was supposed to do when baked goods started appearing, though.

He paced through the kitchen, heading to check the pantry, his gaze focused on his feet as he muttered to himself. What in the world was this about? Had he somehow forgotten? No, he never forgot. Not one of his lovingly topped tarts, or gently rolled croissants, or perfectly baked scones slipped his mind. He had had every recipe in his shop memorized by the first 10 years of running it, and was yet to forget a single ingredient.

Was his memory finally slipping?

He cursed, the sound drowned out by a metallic Clang as he stumbled back. The oven door. Right. He always left it hinged open overnight, so the warmth could flow into the wide room and avoid the oven getting smokey. And every morning, he only remembered when he ran into it. Drat. He rubbed his head, closing it as he stalked into the pantry.

The appropriate supplies were missing, so the goods hadn’t simply materialized out of thin air. So in theory, it was possible that he’d just been… sleep baking. And then going back to bed. After changing his clothes, given how both his bed and his sleepwear were notably flour-free.

Honestly, that might’ve been a more disturbing concept than the idea of odd, reverse-robbers breaking into his home to bake lovingly crafted blueberry scones.

Henry looked disapprovingly down at the baking sheets, keeping an eye on them like they might get up and walk away as he prepared the remaining bakery items. Predictably, at no point in his morning routine did even one tart get up and make a break for it.

Maybe he was just having a forgetful spell.

The next morning, after a day of smiling at customers and packing muffins into to-go boxes and making his grandsons their favorite cookies for when they stopped by after school, he emerged again to a full kitchen, and considered pulling his own hair out for a good, long while.

The old man stared disapprovingly down at the neat pan of peach cobbler.

It did not volunteer any explanations. 

Henry sighed, stalking over to the pantry - cursing, when he hit his head on the oven door - and retrieved the flour, going about the remaining prep work.

There was less to do than yesterday morning.

That day, Henry made an effort to write everything he made down. Every scone, cobbler, pie and pastry was painstakingly catalogued, marked with a little tic for each one that had been sold, each one that was set to rise, and each one that had gone stale, and had been thrown out.

He went to bed with 72 baked goods in his shop, whether they be finished, rising, or cooling.

And woke up with 96.

Were Henry a younger man, he would have picked up the nearest sack of flour and screamed into it. As it was, he hunched over the counter to have his face on top of it, and proceeded as necessary. 

It wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

He spent the rest of the morning pacing, grabbing the notebook he’d used yesterday. He wasn’t making a simple chart of rising to baked to sold today, no, he would be writing down everything. Every step he took, every cup of butter, all of it.

The one solace he was left with was the depletion of the pantry matching the appearance of goods in his bakery, meaning whatever was doing this wasn’t entirely self sufficient.

A solace that disappeared the following morning.

Henry fell to his knees in the pantry, clawing through every bag of flour, each jar of sugar and coffee and salt, breath quickening as he checked every note in his goddamn book. There was too much here, why did he write so much? His vision was trembling, he could barely make out the lines. He yanked the string from the binding, the pages falling out and sweeping across the floor as he finally caught sight of his store list, lunging for it before the damn paper could get away.

Two pounds of sugar, four of flour, ten ounces of coffee, two boxes of tea bags, seven boxes of butter - it was all fucking here. All of it. And yet out in the kitchen say neat rows of two dozen cookies, nine croissants, one batch of scones- there was more than he had left with, how could there be more?

He stumbled to his feet, heart beating much too fast for a man of his age. If he were to disappear tonight, would the bakery keep running without him? Was that the goal of whatever was doing this, to keep his livelihood running on this damn witchcraft so no one would notice when it ate him?

He had to get out of here, he had to get out of here- throwing open the pantry door, he ran into the cold light of sunrise leaking through his bakery windows, heart beating too fast, much too fast, he ran like he was being chased, feet stumbling over each other and sending him-

Right into the oven door, its iron hinges left open so lovingly, to send a crack through the old man's skull by the force of his own momentum. The force sent him back, his head hitting the tile of the bakery with another savage crack, the heavy wooden door of the bakery muffling the sound from kind Miss Evelyn and the cobbler’s son, as they chattered theories about why the bakery was not open on time for the first event in well over 20 years, and reasoned that the poor old man must be ill.

That night, when the baker's grandsons snuck in to lighten the poor man's work load, wearing the aprons he’d made them last year for their 13th birthday, they found him sprawled across the floor, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. The oven door was left open, splattered with the baker's blood. They screamed for the neighbors. Their grandfather did not wake up in the morning.

[askingkyborg]

HERE WE GO MOTHER FUCKERS! I was too lazy to draw so you get some writing instead.

okay, so , context for this thought is that in the kydron timeline, mudd and kyborg were at the library together when a squadrone exploded and killed kyborg, with mudd right there by his side- and meld manor watching, and i thought this would be a fun little idea. This is set in like, a hypothetical break space between bart and mudds arc- before they get on the jebediah.

Mudd has never been one for mornings. You'd think for someone who loves coffee and bird songs, id be his safe space, but alas, no. Kyborg was the unexpected early bird (yet somehow also a night owl- never sleeping until he was sure everyone else was. Mudd cant count the amount of times hes seen the wood elf crack open his door to see if hed fallen asleep.)of the group, and mudd was just about the textbook definition of an afternoon duck.

And concurrently, he tumbled out of bed, a scowl already itching to rest in his face. He gently went to pad across his room, scratching gumbos head before pulling his favourite cape- one of thick wooly moss- out of the dresser. With a gentle click he snapped it on, and let the comfortable weight sit over him. Then, he grabbed his dirt pouch, not bothering to tie it onto his belt loop because his next stop was to see duncan. He swung his door into a full arch, trudging his way through the concrete hallways and startling himself on the ramps down to the main level (they must not have spent enough time in HQ since Dr.ahems renovations- he can only really remember the stairs). Mudd distantly gazes over at gumgum and barts room, smiling at the kid like glow in the dark stickers over the spruce door. After a moment he reaches the main floor, and he's over come with the sent of warm coffee. Duncans chipper voice bleeds after. "Morning mudd! What'll it be?"

"Oh, the usual is fine." He gently nods, gazing to the kitchen. His stomach longed for a proper home cooked meal, but with the loom of travel dawning soon, his brain takes the helm and orders him to instead make something simple thats left overs can be formed into ration packs. A quick root around the pantry reveals a bag of freeze dried fruit leather, and he reaches for it.

"morning mudd."

A shriek almost bleats out of mudds mouth as he turns on his heel to be met with meld. Hugh manors daughter, friend of the infinights. "Oh, my.. you startled me, meld." He shifts from foot to foot- not ever one for small talk. "I don't think we've met"

"i'm sorry?" He cocks a brow at meld. The half elf flushes a bit, running her fingers through her thick black hair. "S-sorry. Allow me to.. rephrase. I never met you- like this- in my timeline at all. Your spirits seem higher here."

"is that so?" Mudds voice comes out a bit critical, but it cant be helped. He can hardly tell how he'd seem "higher in spirits" between his half dawned attire and a piece of fruit leather dangling from his mouth. Meld laughs. "I must sound nuts, don't i?"

"a little, if im honest with you?" He tries to give a friendly smirk as he drops some dirt into his coffee, seeing the dark brown powder over come by a gentle flood of warm coffee. It reminded him of some old flood he'd learned about in his royal studies. Some guy called noah with a boat after ande flooded faza..

"I guess i was just used to my mudd being a mopey sad sack"

"And why exactly was i like that?"

Meld purses her lips, brown eyes thoughtful and swirling, as if debating on what to say. She gently takes a seat at the dining room table, and mudd notices duncan listening in keenly. "well, i mean, you probably took the kydron situation the worst."

Mudd racks his brain, and remembers the conversation they'd all had before going into kyborgs mind. "Kyborg turning into a crazy lunatic android thing? Was i scared of him?"

"no, just.. you missed him." Mudd laughs a little. "Well, i know id miss him but, wouldn't gumgum-"

She shakes her head. "You missed him the most by a land slide- no competition."

mudd swallows, and his mouth tastes bitter, and not from the dirt. "Was it because-"

"you were there? In part." She takes a gentle drink of what looks to be tea. "You were in denial for a while. Tried to pry him away from the squadrone taking his body, and swore up and down he didnt die- that he looked like he was breathing but-"

"i was lyin' through mah' teeth?"

Meld nods sadly. Mudd gazes down into his cup of coffee, and sees his swirling brown reflection. Kyborg was his- their dumbass, but he didn't know how attached he was. He rubs his finger over the lip of his mug.

"did i cry?" He looks up to meet melds eyes. "When i saw him- ..saw kydron?"

meld gives a sad smile.

"I don't remember when you quit."

//nonask

AUAGH. REALLY ANGSTY MUDDBORG THOUGHTS SOON. YALL ARE SO UNSAFE.