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lostandfoundbook · 4 months

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Chapter 10

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Oliver had taken Alex to one of the few restaurants in the hotel that stayed open this late. Because he was the owner, he got to get a lot of free food. Usually whatever he wanted, off the menu. When they were placed to sit down they were sat in a booth near the side of the place they were in. It was a large area, and she admired it.

She sat with her legs tucked underneath her, looking over the menu. There was an assortment of options and she couldn't decide between the chicken alfredo or the safe option of tenders. Nobody could go wrong with a chicken tender. Oliver had no need to look over the meal already knowing what he was going to order.

"Mr. Haven! Glad to see you hear again" The waiter spoke. A smile gleamed across Oliver's face. Showmanship, she thought to herself. The smile was as fake as the atmosphere in this restaurant was. It wasn't a bad thing. She understood why people had to play a façade in life.

She often had to, herself. Hell, She'd just done that tonight. Playing fake with people was all a big ploy in an attempt to appear as normal as possible, as appealing a possible, to the general public. The two of them ordered their meals before returning to their previous conversation.

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About writing a new chapter. I was thinking, maybe, I could start writing music again, and start to further my career outside of my ex boyfriends." She avoided saying his name. She had mentioned Everette too much tonight.

"I think that's a great idea. We have a recording studio here with multiple producers. You could keep releasing under your own name, if you'd like." His sentences trailed off, as if there was more to it. "But?" Alex asked.

"I would be willing to sign you to my own label. Your performance tonight was really incredible, I mean, really. And it's not the first time you've performed at one of my events."

The way he ended his sentence was with confidence. As if he'd really nailed the points home. Instead, for Alex, they just fell flat. "Yeah, and you rejected me."

Oliver set his head down for a moment, staring at the table, trying to gather his words. "It's so much bigger than that. I wish you'd be able to realize that. If I could show you that, it'd made more sense."

Alex scratched her forehead as she raised her eyebrows, looking down at the table. "No, I think I do get it. I just don't like it. There were people who were better than me. That's that."

"Alex.."

His voice sounded like he was pleaded with her to understand. She picked her eyes up and met him in the middle of eye contact. A space where every situation together is shared, a situation where every conversation they've had resides, a location in which her deepest desires was tucked away.

It's why she constantly avoided it. It was too much emotion to confront, but currently, she confronted it head on. "Oliver. I really really get it. It sucks, but it's lead me to the opportunities I have now, for better or for worse. I wouldn't be here at the hotel if you had rejected me then. And I likely wouldn't have released my EP that was practically written about you."

A half-smile rose across his face. "You're slowly starting to remember"

"Yes" Alex replied, nodding as she did so. "I remember a lot of the small things. After my first couple of weeks here, I quickly learned that a lot about myself. Talking with Everette did help, too. I don't remember a lot, but I remember the tiny details. I remember the feelings."

Oliver seemed to take in what she said. The two continued to talk until their food arrived, steaming hot and fresh and deliciously waiting in front of them. It didn't take long for Alex to begin inhaling her food, Oliver following in suit behind her.

"Hey so." He eventually spoke out in between bites. "There's some press event coming up for the hotel. I was thinking, you're talking about furthering your career, it'd be really cool if you went."

Alex pondered the question while she chewed her noodles. Oliver had ordered a carbonara so the two of them were fine dining away on pasta. "Yeah, that sounds really interesting. Are you gonna help me pick out a dress?" He quickly shook his head 'no'.

"Avery can get a dress custom made for you. She has your measurements. And it'd be really cool to be wearing Oliver Haven original." he gave her a look before resuming to eat his food. Alex studied his face for any signs of give or release, and saw none. She had no choice in the matter.

"That sounds like you want to use me as a mannequin" she eventually said, earning another look from him. "Not at all. It's an event for the hotel. Why not wear something given to you by the hotel? It just seems fitting."

"Right. And not a way for you to get into the fashion industry?"

Oliver looked at her with a look of indignation. "Of course not. If I wanted you to be a model for me I'd say, 'Hey Alex, be a model for me'. I don't hide my questions behind veiled lenses. I simply think you should let me find a dress for you."

Alex's smile grew bigger across her face as she picked up her cup of water. "I thought Avery was going to help me with the dress?" She sipped her drink and looked the other direction.

"Oh, this is exactly why I used to hate you, you know."

Her smile only intensified. "That's not true. I don't think you ever hated me, truly. I think you just didn't like me that much." Her eyes glistened in the low light of the restaurant as she said it. She had meant it, too.

"That's actually really nice. I agree. It was just the wrong timing." There was a small moment of quiet between the two. "I want you to come. And I want to sign you to the label. And I want you to be able to further your career."

Alex bit at the inside of her cheek. She shoved another forkful of food into her mouth. Why did he care so much? The only other person who'd been this nice to her was her crew back home at Benji's theatre. She hadn't talked to them in forever. She'd need to send them a text.

Oliver broke the silence. "What are you thinking about?"

What was she supposed to say? The safer answer was to say that she was thinking about her career, and her life up to this point, and anything other than what she actually had said.

"Why do you care about me?"

It slipped out of her lips before she could even think about it, and when she did, she realized how it had come off. It didn't seem to affect Oliver, however. "It's a really really long story. I don't know if I'll ever have the time to get into it." He said, and fiddled with his ring finger.

Had there been more the public hadn't known? Maybe she had learned about it at one point, but she didn't know now. "I'm always here to listen" She said with a yawn. "You seem really tired."

"You're evading. You keep talking about my chapter and continuing my book, but I have to ask you. What is your story?"

He pushed his bangs out of his eyes. He was wearing a button up shirt with a tie, and black slacks. Alex couldn't help but notice how dashing it looked on him. Business casual, but still professional.

"My story? You've practically heard my story. I think I'd need a couple drinks before I told the rest." He looked down at his half eaten plate as if he seriously considered the thought. Getting drinks out wouldn't be the worst thing, though Alex did like her sober conversations she's been able to have with Oliver.

"Why don't you get a bottle? You own the place."

His eyes twinkled a deep icy blue as he stared back into her emerald green orbs. "You really want to hear my story?" he softly asked.

She nodded. She really did want to get to know him. Whatever she used to hate about him over the years must have subsided, because there was nothing here that made her feel resentment towards the man in front of her. It made her wonder if she could truly trust her judgement if she had been this wrong up until this point.

"Yes, I do. I want to know what made you, you."

He looked over towards the waiter who was busy talking to his co-worker, one who idly saw him gazing their direction. She dashed over, instantly taking his order of a bottle of Appleton Estate and waiting as she hurried off into the back kitchen.

"I was never good at sharing my emotions." He eventually said. "But I did, once. It's the reason I don't anymore."

Alex sat forward respectfully, putting her head in her hands as she listened to him. She wanted to give him her full attention. She felt like he deserved it. "Go on."

"I had a previous relationship that ended badly before this one" He spoke as the waitress finally arrived with two glasses and a bottle of rum. He nodded towards her as he poured himself a glass and took a drink.

"It was when I went back to school for business" he eventually began again. "My dad had died years ago and my mom had just died. I was supposed to take on the hotel, but I was so busy switching majors to nursing to take up my practitioners license to help my mom out." He took another drink out of his glass and poured more in.

Alex took the bottle from him and poured her own glass. There were two, after all. She took a sip and instantly regretted it. It was like drinking germ-x out of the bottle, with a hint of vanilla. "Disgusting! How do you drink this stuff?" She blurted out, swishing it around in her glass.

"It's good. Better than that fruity wine you drink."

She rolled her eyes playfully at him and nodded. "Right, like alcohol and vanilla is better than apple or grapes."

He smirked and took another drink. "It is. Truthfully, I took it up because it was my fathers favorite drink."

"That's sweet."

He scratched his cheek and took another drink of his rum. "But then, in college, I met this girl."

The corners of his mouth tilted in a way that almost resembled a smile. There was something sad about it. Alex took another sip of her drink, cringing in the process. "Her name was Waverly, and she was one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid my eyes on."

Alex felt herself wondering what this woman looked like. Was she blonde? Brunette? Thin? Curvy? She was most likely pretty going off of Oliver's descriptions. But looks weren't everything, and this was something both she and Oliver knew too well.

"She was insanely smart, too. She was going for a liberal arts degree and her parents hated it. They said it had no application in the real world, but she knew it did. I knew it did, too. I told her she always had a place in my theatre. It became a special place for us."

Acknowledgment hit Alex like nothing had before in her life. THIS was why Oliver was so guarded about his theatre. Every time she had broken in, every time she had hosted secret parties there without him knowing...

The guilt ate away at her as she listened further. Oliver finished off his glass of rum and began pouring himself another drink. "She was my reason for getting out of bed in the morning after I was orphaned."

Orphaned. The words danced across her head like sugar plum fairies in a ballet. It was something she hadn't considered before. Oliver Haven, orphaned at such a young age. Something Alex literally wished upon her parents at multiple points in her life. A second wave of guilt washed over her.

She could feel it bubble up in the pit of her stomach as she picked up her glass and took another drink. "We were together until we graduated, when she moved in with me. We quickly got engaged."

His conversation seemed to trail off, but she knew this wasn't where the story ended. She looked in his eyes and saw how sad they looked. He took another drink of his rum. "We found out we were expecting"

An emotion washed over Alex's face that she couldn't recognize. Astonishment? Complete shock? Fear for how the story ended? By this point she already knew. There was no Mrs. Haven around the hotel. There was no child.

"By the end, there was just me, and an empty nursery."

He looked between his glass and the bottle before eventually picking it up and taking a long swig straight from the glass rim.

"I'm sorry" Alex eventually whispered. It made sense. This was what Avery was talking about when she said there was a reason he was so shut off from the world. She didn't have to imagine what that pain was like. "When I was 17 I had a still-born with my abusive ex. It's no where near the same, but I feel your pain."

She had said it as if it wasn't a piece of her, as if she had unclaimed that era of her life a very long time ago, and she was just a visitor passing by for a check in.

Oliver looked up to meet her gaze as he set the bottle down. She could see that his eyes looked glossy, as if he had already been crying before this point. She knew he hadn't. She wasn't good with emotional situations, but she figured this was the one way she could connect with him here.

"I'm sorry, too." He replied.

"You would've been a great father."

* * *

The words replayed over and over again in her head as she sat in her bed.

'You would've made a great mother, too.'

Her life had gone careening down such a different path back in those days, and she really didn't expect to fall pregnant at such a young age. Nobody did, really. Nobody expected her to want to keep it, either. She felt like it was the one good thing that had come of her abusive situation.

She hid it for as long as she could. From Mason, from her parents, from her friends. But eventually she got too big, and couldn't hide the swollen stomach beneath a school uniform any longer.

People found out, and she was ridiculed and bullied. Harassed around the hallways at school, and mocked throughout the town. That was the first time Alex had learned of people knowing about her randomly on the streets.

It took a long time for people to forget that Alex was pregnant. She didn't have notoriety, but home-town rumors seemed to stick harder than any glue you could buy at the store. When she didn't have a baby show up in her life, however, people slowly forgot.

Alex graduated from high school with a 3.0 GPA and made her way into college before inevitably dropping out. She tried to apply herself, but in the end, she couldn't even figure out which degree she walked to settle on. She'd realized she was just using it as another tool to escape.

It didn't benefit her to stay at school. There wasn't any degree that could get her what she wanted in life. If there was a degree to become famous, Alex would've gotten a doctorate in it by now, but it didn't exist. She was left to her own devises.

She rolled over in her bed where she was laying. The pillows underneath her were plush and soft, and her head sunk into them like memory foam usually does. The covers overtop of her felt soft and fluffy. She was exuberantly aware of her surroundings. The way she could see the light peaking from underneath the door in the far distance.

She could turn and see the moonlight seeping in from the glass door attached to the balcony. She could imagine the night sky was twinkling brightly with millions of stars, each one telling their own story before exploding into pristine nothingness.

She wondered what her siblings were doing back home. She had a twin sister, which she didn't like to talk about much, and she had a younger brother. He was turning 12 soon, she remembered. It had been years since she had been back home, and she imagined the way he must have grown into his face by now. He was only 8 when she left.

It was horrible having to leave them behind, but Alex knew it's what she needed to do to provide them a safe space to go if they needed it. She hoped her siblings knew they could reach out to her at any time. A piece of her wondered if they thought the same about her. She never reached out, either.

It was hard for her to stay in contact. Most of her friends understood, but she didn't know if a twelve year old boy would understand why she didn't ever call or text. She couldn't imagine what abuse he must be facing, considering he's likely the only one left in the house.

Alex's twin sister was named Evelyn. No matter how similar they were in looks, they were completely different in attitude. Evelyn put her all into studying and getting into a better college. Alex didn't have the same passion or drive. The two constantly fought, and once Evelyn found out about Alex's drug use, she considered her no different than her parents.

She didn't know if they had ever reconnected. She was the reason Alex initially applied for college, but there was nothing there for her, just like there was nothing there for her at home. She'd always been one to leave things behind without thinking twice about it.

It was partially why she picked up a million different hobbies, and always had a million different things to quit. She'd wanted to do cheerleading as a kid, but she barely had any gymnastic ability. There were a thousand things she wanted to work on.

She wanted to be like Barbie, pursuing every creative avenue that life presented her way. She wanted to write something one day. Maybe poetry, or an autobiography of some kind. She wanted to keep ice skating, and see if there was a rink nearby. She wanted to paint, and take dance classes, and go wherever her heart led her.

And she knew she wanted to keep producing music, maybe under Oliver.

Oliver.

She remembered his words again. It was hard for her to run from this. How do you escape your own memory? Wasn't that something she was supposed to have experience in? It was all very bizarre to her. The way it made her feel inside when she thought about it. 'You would've made a great mother, too.'

She turned back over to lay on her back. It was going to be a very long night.

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brandycranby · 2 years

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in his name: the heroes

a brief exploration of CE character names and how they match their stories/personalities... or don’t 😗💕

the heroes ❥ the villains ❥ the lovers

a/n: finally putting my linguistics degree to good use my frens 😚 i really enjoy sociolinguistics, if i continued w grad ling, i would’ve focused on that i think. i’ve been meaning to make more bulletpoint posts and headcanons bc sometimes!! you're too tired for coherent fic!!

Andy Barber

ANDY is a diminutive of ANDREW, a given name with Greek roots, Andreia.

Meaning “brave”, “manly”, or “valorous”, fitting for Andy who, in canon, is said to be particularly aggressive and masculine as a result of the warrior gene or a MAO-A variant i mean largely played up for the ✨️drama✨️ but u kno

ironic if you consider how he’s often one step away from being soft dark or full dark bc of his aggressiveness but that's also what's attractive 😬

BARBER is what’s known as an occupational surname, very common English last names. some others are miller, baker, and smith. it’s likely that one of his patrilineal grandfathers was actually a barber

Ari Levinson

ARI is a Jewish name and is a variant of Arieh. Both mean lion in Hebrew. (Ari is also a given name in Faroese and Icelandic but since he’s canonically Jewish, we’ll skip those explanations)

LEVINSON is a Jewish patronymic last name where it’s a word made up of a personal name + son/daughter of, so Levin + “son”. Jewish surnames have historically used the Hebrew prefix ben (son of) or bat (daughter of-) and then the father’s name. but bc of decrees in the 18th c. german empire, these traditional surnames were changed to be more “european”

given that in canon, he and his mum tried to escape the continent bc of nazi perscution, we can assume that he’s Ashkenazi Jewish by birth and is able to speak Yiddish alongside Hebrew and English. depending on whether his adoptive family was also Jewish or not and whether he was encouraged to keep speaking Yiddish or assimilate would have had effects on his language skills tho 😕 for more angst, apply forced americanization

Curtis Everett

CURTIS is an English translation of Corteis (Old French) which may sound very similar to “courteous” to you!! hehe that’s bc tho english is a germanic language, it uses dozens of loan words from other languages. so Curtis means “well-bred” or “courteous” stemming from the idea of courtly behavior or etiquette.

the idea of etiquette began snowballing in popularity during the enlightenment when the bourgeoisie adopted upper class manners, aka “polite society” in order to move up in the world. kinda parallel to Curtis' movement from the tail end to the engine

EVERETT is also interesting; originally Everard (Old English), it means “strong/hard as a boar”. boars are notoriously hard to kill and were called "desperate fighters" by the brits that hunted them. special spears had to be made for hunting them whereby the animal would charge and impale itself. i hope bong joonho knows what an apt name it is for our rebellion leader Curtis 💕💕

Frank Adler

We have some options with FRANK. It could be a name in itself, or a shortened form of Francis and Franklin. histotically, Francis is a shortened version of Franciscus and Francesco which mean “Frenchman” or “free man” in reference to St. Francis of Assisi. Franklin is an English name with roots in Middle English, meaning “landowner of free origin”

ADLER is Middle German, stemming from the term “edler Aar” or “noble eagle” which distinguished eagles from falcons and hawks for hunting.

frankie's just a plain ol boy but he is rather noble like an eagle 🥺

Steve Rogers

STEVE is diminutive of Steven or Stephen, stemming from Stéphanos (Ancient Greek) meaning “wreath, crown, honor” as well as “to wreathe around”, which in Steve’s case could imply protection 🥺

but this name is also significant bc of its common attribution to Saint Stephen, a disciple of Jesus that was stoned to death and named the first martyr. slightly prophetic of Sarah Rogers ngl 🥲

Sarah may have also called him Stíofán or Steabhán at home (not on the streets bc that’s how you let racist/nationalist ppl know you’re not from here uwu) but she may have also been a part of the generation in Ireland that didnt get to learn or use Irish bc of British control 🤷🏻‍♀️

ROGERS is… complicated in that it could be an English/Norman surname or an Anglicized Irish surname. Rogers in the Norman sense means “son of Roger”. The Normans (aka early French) invaded England in the 11th century and eventually conquered Ireland in the 12th century bringing the name Rogers.

Alternatively, it could be the English version of Mac Ruaidhrí. We don’t know enough about his dad (besides that he was abusive in the og comics) to decide but since the more common Anglicization of Mac Ruaidhrí is McCreary or McCrory, one of Steve’s ancestors might have just taken the English surname.

---

genuinely if you finished this, ty bc this is so niche of an interest 😖💕💕 ily and i'll get the villains out soon 👀

tag list: @punemy-spotted, @thornsnvultures, @sweetascanbee

#andy barber #ari levinson #curtis everett #frank adler #steve rogers #this was like baby level etymology so if you have anything to add pls do #nobody fight me on any of this tho i'm not claiming it's accurate #series: in his name #ce characters

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knives-and-lint · 3 years

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corrupts absolutely

(2x16 preview)

Nancy's heels echo off the pavement, arms pulled tight against her midsection, as she had run from the event without thinking about the chilly evening weather. The crash of waves against the shore await, as she makes way toward the sea, stopping only when the sidewalk meets the sand. Goosebumps dot her skin, as the night breeze comes in off the water, and she curses under breath in regret for not getting her coat first.

The Hudson's have always been a source of scourge in Horseshoe Bay. The upper echelon forever turning down their noses at the common folk. It's particularly vexing for Nancy to discover, that simply because she shares their blood, the ideals that go along with such silver spoons is instantly expected of her. That the fact she was raised in a more than comfortable, upper middle class environment, was rendered moot the second her parentage became known.

She's been playing along for just a few hours, but it leaves an uncomfortable itch along her skin, the swaths of money attached to the Hudson name akin to poison ivy. Oh, that she would shed it if she could. The option not currently viable with the game set in motion. To get someone like Everett to actually pay for what he's done where monetary methods need not apply.

Footsteps behind her, Nancy doesn't have to turn to look, to know it's Ace approaching. Already thinking of a way to defend her plan to him, though she really shouldn't have to, the thoughts are derailed when she feels a jacket draped over shoulders. Head turning to meet his, 'thanks' comes out so softly, she's not quite sure he hears her over the waves. He probably read her lips regardless, a skill they share, but has never come up on his end.

“Let me guess,” she begins, turning back to the ocean, black as the sky above. “You hate this party. You hate my family. And you hate-”

“Not as much as you do,” he interrupts, eyes focused on her.

Nancy scratches at her arms, the poison ivy itch doubling from his observation.

“I'm doing what needs to be done.”

Ace sighs, looking out toward the water then back to her.

“And if you lose yourself in the process?”

Nails embedded into her skin, god she hopes he doesn't notice.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, tone clipped.

“You're not the issue.”

Finally, she turns to him.

“Is that right? Then why do you keep treating me like I'm already lost? That they've sucked me into their greedy, selfish word, just because I'm their granddau-” she cuts herself off. Not wanting to say the word.

Ace is quiet a moment, dress shoe shuffling against some sand spread along the sidewalk.

“Because people like that will change you,” he answers evenly. “It doesn't work the other way around.”

It would be so easy to dismiss the comment. Because really, what does he know about people like them? He dated Laura Tandy for all of one summer. Hardly enough to ingrain himself into the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

“Do you know why Laura liked me so much?” he inquires, as if reading her mind. “Because I was the opposite of everyone she'd ever known.”

Nancy blinks at him.

“I didn't think about what she really meant when she said it. I was just a regular person. We're all just people, right? Only difference being monetary status.”

He looks at her again.

“When you have what they have, the smallest pebble in the way, it treated like a threat and dealt with. A boat full of people. Lady Chatterly's lover. Gone just because he wants them to be. Because they had the audacity to take what he thinks is his.”

“I know that,” Nancy interjects, studying him closely. “But that's not what really bothers you about tonight, is it?”

Ace doesn't flinch at the accusation, but she knows him better than that.

“No.”

“Tell me.”

For a moment it looks like he isn't going to. That he's just going to turn around and walk away, when she notices his eyes dip to where she keeps scratching.

“I don't know Nancy Hudson,” he states softly. “I don't think I'd want to. I don't think she'd want to know me.”

Nancy eyes widen just a little. It's certainly not a scenario she's thought about. Going all in with the Hudson's. Making questionable decisions at their behest until one by one, her real friends slowly fell to the wayside. She wants to tell him that won't happen. That it's just a character reveal in the third act of this passion play. That she'll come out the other side the same Nancy he's always known. Wants to but can't. Lies never being her forte.

He knows this, because he knows her.

“She would,” is what comes out instead. “Because even though you can't see it, she's still me, and I can't imagine not knowing you.”

Ace manages to crack a smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the worry still prevalent in them.

“I know you don't trust them,” she goes on. “But you trust me.”

“Yes.”

“Then please,” she implores, reaching out for his hand, glad that he lets her take it. “Trust me.”

Ace squeezes that hand tight.

“Okay.”

#Nace #drabble

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the-al-chemist · 3 years

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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 4

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

Katriona Cassiopeia belongs to the ineffably talented @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, reference to smoking (cigarettes)

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @lifeofkaze

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea

Honorary mention: @official-weasley, whose wonderful fic TICW can be found here.

Can’t start a fire

Can’t start a fire without a spark

This gun’s for hire

Even if we’re just dancing in the dark

~ Dancing in the Dark - Bruce Springsteen ~

When it came to London, and particularly London public transport, there was nothing that sparked as much joy as the small victory of getting the front seat of the Docklands Light Railway.

Surely, this had to be a good omen, thought Artemis Hexley, as she placed her feet up onto the windowsill in front of her, and watched the city fly by her as the robotic train navigated its way through the maze of multi-storey glass buildings. Or at least, that’s what she thought until she realised that in watching the driver’s seat view of Canary Wharf, she had completely missed her stop.

“Shit,” she said to herself, much louder than she had intended to, thanks to the volume of the music playing through her headphones. She apologised to the tourist family in the seats behind her, and walked back towards the doors of the train.

One stop back on the DLR, and another on the Jubilee Line, and she was almost back on track. As she stepped off the tube onto the platform at North Greenwich Station, she checked the time on her phone. There was no time for a cigarette. She was only going to make it on time at all if she ran.

Luckily, Artemis had always been a fast runner, and was easily able to dodge her way through the crowds loitering outside the arena. She reached the front desk, barely breaking out a sweat, and took a deep breath before introducing herself.

“My name’s Artemis Hexley,” she told the first member of staff she saw, a balding man suffering from middle-aged spread. “I’m here to interview with Aurora Tourealis.”

“I think you’ve come to the wrong place,” said the man behind the desk. “There’s no drag acts on at the moment.”

“What? No, I mean the company running the stage for this week’s shows.”

“Pull the other one, love,” said the man, looking her up and down. “You must know how many little fangirls we get trying to sneak in there to catch a glimpse of their heroes, maybe get an autograph.”

“I’m not -”

“Sure. Come on, which one are you after? Everett or Amari?”

Artemis glared at the man and sighed angrily.

“I’m not after anyone but the production company,” she said, trying to keep the harshness out of her voice. “I’m meant to be interviewing with the owners, Katriona Cassiopeia and Murphy McNully. Could you just -”

“You’re here for the interview?” a voice said from somewhere above Artemis’ head.

From behind her, a tall and muscular woman with blonde hair and black leathers stepped towards the desk, looking down at Artemis with an odd expression on her handsome face. She was at least a head taller than Artemis, who found herself looking up as she nodded at the woman.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Artemis Hexley. I’m a bit late, thanks to this arsehole.”

The man behind the counter tutted, and the blonde woman smirked. She pulled out a black radio from her pocket.

“KC, it’s Erika,” she said, speaking into the radio. “Got your new pyrotech here. You want us to come on through?”

On the other end of the line, Artemis could just about make out the crackly voice of another woman. Erika started to walk through the main entrance hall, jerking her head as an indication that Artemis was meant to follow her.

“Yeah, yeah. Send Murphy out, then,” Erika said into the radio. She cast a glance at Artemis, and added, “and tell him there’s a bit of a surprise.”

Erika opened a heavy door, and gestured to Artemis to walk through it, which she did, finding herself on the ground level of the arena. The stage was being prepared by crew members in black, and the stadium seating extended back as far as she could see.

From a room nearby, a blond man in a wheelchair and black clothes wheeled over to her, not even bothering to hide the surprise on his face at the sight of her.

“You’re here for the pyrotechnics job?” he said, looking her up and down.

“Yes,” replied Artemis, indignantly.

“I assumed that you would be a male Artemis.”

“You assumed wrong.”

“I can see that now,” said the man in the wheelchair, holding his hand out for Artemis to shake. “I’m Murphy. Sound manager. We’ve emailed.”

“I’m Artemis. Pyrotechnist. As we’ve already established.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Murphy said. “Honest mistake, and an understandable one. You know, less than fifteen percent of pyrotechnicians are female.”

Artemis tried her hardest to keep her face passive as she nodded her head.

“So, where are we interviewing?”

“In the green room,” Murphy started to wheel over towards a room just to the right of them. “Katriona is already in there. You’re fourteen minutes late, you know.”

“Had a bit of trouble getting past the front desk.”

“I thought Charlie had told them to expect you. Never mind.”

In the green room, a smartly dressed woman with long, strawberry-blonde curls extended her hand for Artemis to shake.

“I’m Katriona, the stage manager,” she told her. “You can call me KC, everyone does. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, two sugars.”

KC nodded, and started to play with a coffee machine in the corner of the room, still holding the conversation.

“We’re a bit disorganised this morning, first show back last night. You know how it is,” she said, as the coffee machine grumbled into life. “I saw on your CV that this isn’t your first gig.”

“No. I’ve been on tech crews for seven tours now,” Artemis said, taking both a seat and the piping hot coffee that KC offered to her. “Five years, four months in total.”

“You don’t look old enough to have been on seven tours.”

“If you’ve seen my CV, you’ll know that I’m older than I look.”

KC and Murphy exchanged glances, and Artemis immediately regretted her words.

“You must tell me about your skincare routine,” said KC, after a short but awkward pause. “I spoke to the person you’d be replacing. He said that five years’ experience would make you a level three, but we checked your credentials, and you’re only certified for level two.”

Artemis sighed.

“Yeah, I am,” she replied. “I just haven’t been signed off on my last two months of industry, that’s all. I know the ad said for a certified level three tech, but I’ve seen you put up the same advert pretty much every couple of weeks since Equinox started touring, so I figured you might just take me on anyway.”

“Well,” KC glanced at Murphy again, “we’re considering it.”

“I’m not surprised. The rate you’re getting through pyrotechnicians, you can’t really afford to be fussy.”

Artemis’ sentence was met with another silence, which was broken by the sound of a low chuckle, as a stocky man with red hair and a face so freckled he almost looked tanned walked across the green room.

“Oh, believe me, they’re not fussy,” he said, giving Murphy a meaningful look, “I am, though.”

The red-headed man leant against the wall of the green room. Suddenly, the interview had become three against one. Artemis sat up straight in her seat, trying to look more professional.

“This is our assistant sound manager, and temporary pyrotechnician. Until we find someone to fill the position, of course,” Murphy informed her, after letting out a small sigh.

“Wait, how can you be a temporary pyrotechnician?” asked Artemis. “Surely you need a proper pyrotech for a tour, even if it is -”

“I am a proper pyrotech,” the red-haired man shrugged. He extended a hand to Artemis, as if he expected her to shake it. “I don’t think Murphy introduced us very well. I’m Charlie. Charlie Weasley.”

Artemis frowned, ever so slightly. She knew Charlie Weasley by reputation, though they had never met. The world of pyrotechnics was a small one, and Charles Weasley was one of the big names in the circuit. Whatever was he doing taking on a sound technician role? Was he giving up pyrotechnics altogether?

KC must have noticed the expression on Artemis’ face, because she explained, “Charlie has been our pyrotechnician for a few years now, but he’s in the process of moving over to sound.”

“Just need to find someone to take over my old role, first,” Charlie added, with a strained sort of smile.

“So, you’re the one being replaced.”

“No, I’m irreplaceable.”

Before she could stop herself, Artemis made a noise of disbelief, and Charlie looked at her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Murphy cleared his throat.

“Well, maybe you could show Artemis around backstage,” he said. Charlie looked like he was about to protest, but before he could say anything, Murphy continued, “I’d do it myself if it weren’t for all the stairs. Besides, you’re the one who is irreplaceable.”

KC smirked into her coffee, and Artemis tried and failed not to do the same. Charlie threw Murphy a dark look, but he shrugged again.

“Alright,” he said, standing up straight. He nodded at Artemis’ coffee mug. “Probably shouldn’t bring that with you.”

“I know,” said Artemis, and she downed the coffee that remained in her mug before she, too, stood up. “Come on, then. I’m ready.”

She followed the temporary pyrotechnician out of the green room and out into the stadium. Neither of them spoke. He showed her through a heavy black metal door to the side of the stage, and held it open.

“Ladies first,” he said.

Artemis rolled her eyes as she walked through the door, and up a flight of stairs that led to the wings of the stage. As they got to the top of the stairs, Charlie started to talk her through the different pyros they were using for the tour. Artemis nodded along. She had seen a video on YouTube of Equinox’s performance in Berlin, and had recognised each effect on sight, even though the quality of the recording was poor. It was all simple enough, and she pointed this out to him.

“Well,” he replied, “sometimes the simple stuff is effective. Besides, we can’t really risk going too complicated, not with the rate at which we’re going through techs, as you so delicately put it.”

He raised his eyebrows at Artemis, who folded her arms across her chest and stared back at him unwaveringly.

“If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say that maybe someone on the crew is difficult to work with.”

“Maybe, but you’re still applying anyway. Pretty ballsy move, if you ask me. Especially since you don’t even have the right qualifications for the job.”

Artemis narrowed her eyes at him. Despite his harsh words, he had a good-natured demeanour, and she couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately obstinate or just stating facts.

“That’s a technicality. I have the required level of experience,” she told him. “I just don’t have the accompanying paperwork.”

“How come?”

“I left the last tour I was on a few weeks early. I had the last two months of supervision I needed for my level three at the start of the tour, and they refused to sign me off for it if I broke my contract. Which I did, as you already know.”

“Hang on. You didn’t get your level three certified for the sake of a few more weeks on the job?” Charlie frowned. “Why give up?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“You could. But I’m not the one being interviewed here.”

“Aren’t you?” Artemis asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

Charlie exhaled through his nose and shook his head, before turning away to continue the tour. The backstage area was not as busy as Artemis had expected for the scale of the tour, especially with it being the second day back after a break. Still, she was officially introduced to Erika Rath, the head of security, who had taken her through to meet Murphy and KC at the start of her interview, and a black man in a stunning purple suit, who, instead of shaking her hand, kissed her on both cheeks.

“This is Andre,” Charlie told her. “He’s in charge of wardrobe.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, darling,” he said. Artemis noticed that his eyelids were lined with gold eyeliner as he quickly scanned the length of her with his brown eyes. “I must say, I was expecting someone -”

“Older? Taller? With a Y chromosome?”

Andre chuckled, and his eyes flicked towards Charlie, who looked less impressed.

“Ooh, she’s feisty,” said Andre. “I love that.”

The two men started to talk about the previous night’s show, and how they had both spent the four week interval between the legs of the tour.

Artemis felt her attention slip away, and her eyes drifted towards an igniter that was slightly off its marker at the front of the stage. She walked away from Andre and Charlie, and repositioned the igniter. As she did so, she examined the wiring. The wires had been placed in a way that was technically correct, but she had realised through trial and error during her second tour that adjusting the positions of the wires could make all the difference when it came to the grandness of the effect.

Before she even realised she was doing it, she rewired the igniter in the way she would have done it. Once she’d finished, she made her way along the front of the stage, and rewired all the others. By the time she finished, Charlie had finished his conversation.

“Did you just rewire that?” he asked her, frowning at the igniter.

“Yeah.”

“Have you rewired all of them?”

“Yeah.”

Charlie frowned even deeper, and bent down to take a look at Artemis’ handiwork. He stood up straight and blinked, hard.

“Let’s go back to the green room,” he muttered, and they walked back in complete silence.

When they returned, KC and Murphy had obviously been deep in conversation, and Artemis assumed they had been talking about her, from the way they too quickly fell silent.

“Artemis, you’re back,” said KC. “I hope he was nice to you.”

“I’m always nice, KC.”

“So, what did you think?”

Artemis nodded.

“It was good.”

“Good enough that you’d be interested in the job?”

“Sure,” said Artemis. “When do you want me to start?”

“Well, we were thinking about doing a trial period of two weeks. That will see us through here and Birmingham, and give us plenty of time to see whether -”

“No,” said Charlie, shaking his head. His red eyebrows had furrowed even deeper. “Fuck that.”

Artemis scowled at him, and in the corner of her eye, she saw KC and Murphy share an apprehensive look.

“Charlie, mate,” Murphy said, in a diplomatic sort of voice. “We need -”

“We need a new pyrotech, I know. And she needs someone to supervise her and sign her off for another two months of industry,” Charlie shrugged.

“She’s sitting right here, you know,” muttered Artemis, rolling her eyes.

KC, Murphy, and Charlie all stared at her. In the end, Charlie was the one who spoke first.

“Yeah, fuck the trial period. The job’s yours if you want it.”

#when stars ignite #hphm rockstar au #rockstar au #hphm #hogwarts mystery #artemis hexley #charlie weasley #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #erika rath #andre egwu

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Preordained Position

Summary- 5.8k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Brutal Killing, Drug Use, Non Con/Dub Con, Swears. Read at your own risk.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃 🌹

Chapter 2 / Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve Masterlist

“Why the fuck we keeping her?” Edgar sneered at you. You swallowed and looked away feeling a little more exposed now it was just the five of you left. Edgar, Grey, Nam, Curtis and of course you. Somehow you've made it this far.

Curtis searched through the room, but found little of much use, his boot pushing aside children's bodies while he went through desks and bins. Straightening, he responded finally to Edgar’s question.

“Because she's useful, Wilford’s pet. Even if he sent her to the tail end, he hasn't lost track of her. If we kill the bitch now, what leverage do we have? Besides, she gave us information. Before we came in this car, she told me to watch out.”

You looked down and shrugged a bit. “I didn't know it was going to be like this.”

“Well, we could have come out of it a lot worse. I should have listened.” Curtis paused for a moment at Tonya and reached down to close the woman's eyes, sighing at the lost members of their group once more. Moving to a stand and grabbing a hold of the handle of his ax, he nodded to Nam. “We move forward.”

This time when Curtis jerked you to his side, it wasn't as rough, checking your shoulder with prods of his fingers. “This needs to be sealed off or else you are going to get weak and pass out. I'm not dragging you along.”

You could already feel the pain and blood loss starting to tire you out. “Next car, it’s medical, dentistry… other stuff.” You try to remember, but it's getting hazier now, doubting yourself after all the differences you’d already encountered compared to what you’d expected.

“Medic. Good. We can get them to patch us up.” Curtis nodded as he gave you a gentle push forward. Nam opened the next door and you stepped through wondering what hell you were all going to find this time.

Thankfully, it was nice, much nicer than any of the other carriages you have been in. Wide open rooms lined the sides of a red carpet, and Curtis peeked in each one in turn as you walked down the middle. Edgar and Grey remained at the rear, clearly on guard should anything pop out. But nothing happened, in fact the people filling this cart seemed to ignore each of you completely, which suited you fine. Curtis paused at a room which contained what looked like a doctor treating a patient, and steered you in there. For the first time since you’d entered this cart someone seemed to notice you two.

“I’m with a patient.” The doctor remarked, pulling away with a needle he had been injecting the man's face with. You couldn't help the wince you gave at the man's now unnatural looking face, much like those grinning kids that would haunt you probably for the rest of your life.

Curtis obviously didn't give a shit, using his axe to point at the door. “Get out before I carve your heart out.” The simple threat from this menacing man left the patient scrambling to get past everyone, scoffing when he brushed against Edgar and wiping the invisible dirt from his shirt. Edgar made like he was going to throw his own weapon, lining him up. “Be so easy ya know’ Just one fling.”

“Edgar get your ass in here and let's get you fixed up.” Curtis grunted as he eased his coat off, and then you could see where his shirt had been shredded, unaware of just how much damage he had taken.

At first concern bloomed through your chest, worried at what you were seeing. The doctor tutted as he started to patch up Curtis’s back, muttering under his breath. Then you started to remember this man kept you alive just cause you were useful, raped you because he thought you were nothing more then Wilford’s whore and your concern melted away as fast as it had appeared.

“Get over here Little Bird and let him look at your shoulder.” Curtis snapped when you were glaring at him, as he pushed off the seat. Just as he was moving to a stand, the doctor's hand whipped out from his jacket pocket and stabbed a needle into Curtis’s neck, pushing whatever was in the vial into his system.

With a yell Curtis whipped around and grabbed at the doctor's neck, his fingers digging into the column of his throat, but he started to collapse. Behind you the same thing was happening to Grey, Edgar and Nam, all caught unaware by guards who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, each man crumbling down into a heap on the floor. The doctor wrenched Curtis’s hand off him, and stepped away, tossing the used needle aside. You backed into a corner as the militia men came to collect each one of your captors, dragging them away. You tried to follow as they took Curtis, but the doctor stopped you sharply. “Oh I don't think so Y/N.”

“How do you know my name?” You snapped, trying to wrench away from him. This frail but surprisingly strong man smirked.

“Wilford already filled us in.” He stretched your arm out and used a prepared needle to stab you, even while you tried struggling.

“Where is he? He put me in this place” You tried to get answers, wriggling to get him to release you, but whatever he injected immediately hit you. This time when you started to go under, it wasn't nearly as painful as last time and the last thing you heard was the doctor's calming voice.

“If you survive this next couple of cars, you will meet with him.”

And then it was nothing but darkness, blessed darkness and you hoped to stay there for the rest of the time.

You woke to hands pawing at you, hot lips on your neck and your body being tossed back and forth as parts of your clothing got pulled off. When your eyes sprang open, you seemed to be in a pit, loud people standing above you looking down at you, laughing at your expense as they stared at you like you were an animal in a zoo. They started pouring bottles of cheap champagne over you till you were spluttering from being unable to breath without inhaling the alcohol, and they sprinkled you with something foul smelling, Even blowing the powder down at your face forcing you to inhale it. What the fuck? You try rubbing your face when everything starts fading in and out of focus, a slurred giggle bubbling from your chest. “W-what?”

Suddenly Edgar pushed you back, joined by Grey while they both jerked your pants down and you squealed in shock at the two men, each one wild eyed and giving that unnatural grin that scared you. You tried twisting away from them, desperately attempting to claw your way away. “No, no not again.” you sobbed. Just as you had almost pulled yourself free from the pit, a laughing front ender shoved their foot against your forehead and pushed you back into Grey and Edgar’s arms where they started grinding their aching bodies into your ass, hip, wherever they could while they hotly panted against your face. Whatever they gave you was making you lose your will to fight slowly, and Edgar rubbed a handful back under your nose so you breathed it in once more. Your eyes swept down to see that it was kronole and you suddenly realized that was the reason your mind was so foggy. As that thought broke through the mist in your brain you tried pulling away but to no avail.

Grey’s hands pulled you down to lay in the pit all the time the circle of people above remained jeering at your impeded state while he rutted through his clothing against you.

You were about to be raped again and couldn't stop it. In fact you were getting to the point you didn't care, the more the kronole messed with your senses. You went limp, the two men manipulating you back and forth between them, bites to your neck and shoulders, hands grabbing your breasts through your bra…

And then, your addled mind registered a roar of rage which came from somewhere above, and a dark shadow loomed over the group standing around your pit. You shrunk back in fear, as Grey and Edgar looked up in surprise.

Curtis dropped into the pit, clearly out of his mind too from kronole, but he was far more intimidating. “She's mine.” he snarled, and slammed both men away from you. He grabbed your hips, and jerked you against him, and his hand moved into your hair, ripping your head back viciously enough to make you scream. “Just proving my point, you’re Wilford’s whore rubbing against these boys.” He bit against your lips and pushed you back to sprawl against the ground. Grey was the first to recover, going for Curtis in a rage for being interrupted when Curtis whipped around, grabbing Grey’s head and giving a vicious wrench, twisting it till it jerked at an unnatural angle before he tossed his body out of the pit. Edgar came next, eyeing Curtis as he circled him, looking to attack. You tried to pull yourself up the wall when Curtis wrenched you back into him.

“You couldn't get away last time, you're not getting away this time.” Above the drugged onlookers cheered, breaking more kronole and sprinkling it down over the three of you. Curtis inhaled the powder deeply once more as it settled all over his face like a dusting of ash, and his pupils blew almost black suddenly. Dropping you, he twisted and attacked Edgar, the two men unevenly matched and equally out of their minds. Curtis had the upper hand being bigger and he ended up crashing Edgar's head over and over into the steel side of the pit, once his head was completely crushed in, he let him go and turned towards you.

Curtis was nothing but a kronole crazed demon now his face covered in the green dust of the drug. The lighting above continued shifting back and forth as more people packed in to watch, but your depraved audience faded out as the man came stalking towards you…

And then that fog descended on your brain once more and you realized you didn’t want to stop him. You were a slave to the heat rising in your chest and the clenching of your core at wanting this man to fuck you, needing him to fuck you. You scrambled over to him and leaped to wrap your arms and legs around him, grinding yourself into his tented pants, your nails digging into his jacket. You knew that if you didn’t fuck him right now, you would have to someone else. He slammed you into the wall, crushing your chest against his hard one, clearly experiencing the same madness you were, that driving need to pound into you. Edgar and Grey had done half the work before you were drugged, but now Curtis and his dirty clothes crushing the air from you was making you hotter, wetness coating the front of his pants as you gave a grind.

“Fuck me.” You finally hoarse out while trying to open the front of his pants.

Curtis grasped your wrist and easily pinned them back, spitting in your face. “Mine, that pussy belongs to me. Fuck those boys, and Fuck Wilford.”

You nodded and arched to give him room to get his cock out, causing you to look up, temporarily blinded once more as the partying people started to pour and throw random stuff down at you, garbage, more kronole dust, pouring that cheap champagne. But you didn't feel the stuff bouncing off you, nor did you hear the jeers at how nasty the tail enders were. No, all you could feel was Curtis as he slammed into you. So fast and hard, that you locked your legs harder around his hip, his grunts at how you were so tight around him were nothing but whooshing air right out of his lungs. Setting a brutal pace, fucking you into the wall, he used your body harshly, bruising you and you didn’t care. You didn't care that he was fisting his hand in your hair, or that his teeth were sinking into your neck and shoulders while his grunts matched each slamming slap on your body against the wall.

For you it was satisfaction at the burn, the hard rage he was forcing into your body. Your eyes rolled back while he arched himself to bite and kiss on your breasts, marking them with broken skin and lapping the blood that started to seep down your cleavage. It felt good, all so good that you couldn't hold yourself back and started cumming on his cock with no warning.

“Curtis- fuck I cant.” you started as he angled your hips, dragging his cock through clenching muscles and bottoming out. Those grinds against your clit, started you right back up again.

“Mine.” was all he said, his pupils still black soulless orbs, a grin that scared the shit out of you and you could do nothing but hang on once more as he used your body, marking you every which way, forcing you open around his cock over and over till you were ragdoll limp between him and the wall until he brought you off again, crying cause it was too much.

Then he finally jerked into you, his cum bringing you back aware at the soreness of your body, the sweaty ache and rawness where you were rubbed against him, between your thighs, sticky with a sharp ache. Your mind cleared, suddenly aware of where you were an what had happened and you took a shaky breath, your head sagging back against the wall as you fought back tears of despair. Curtis slowed, panting against your shoulder, and when he lifted away, those blue eyes you were familiar with were back, confusion as to what had happened was creased in every single line of his face, and he let your hands go, numb as they fell. You swiped your trembling hand over his kronole covered face quickly to wipe it away and you jerked his shirt over his nose. “Don't inhale anymore!” You pleaded and he pulled away, his hands falling to your hips to hold you standing as your legs were shaking.

“We have to get out of here. What's the next car?” He yanked his jacket off and swept it around you, covering your mouth and nose with the collar as you tried to figure out how you two were supposed to get out and through the people, who you now realized were also out of there fucking minds from the kronole. Curtis didn't seem to hesitate though, approaching the edge, he grabbed someone's legs and yanked, sending them sprawling and laughing, pulling them over the edge and kicking at their heads. “They are so fucking out of it from kronole and alcohol that they won’t put up to much of a fight.” He kept going, smashing people down till he could crawl out, shouldering others out of the way and reaching with his hand to grasp you. You tried not to step on anyone and held onto his hand as your legs were grabbed, one of the first people recovered enough to make a snatch at you. You screamed, kicking out your legs while Curtis pulled you up. People started to crowd against him, jostling him and also grabbing at you as he managed to get you over the edge and as you straightened up you realized they were trying to push you both back in.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” they started chanting while Curtis kept you against his chest, pushing you away from the pit.

Now you two were alone, weaponless, and being crowded in a mob of frontenders yelling obscenities. “Come on fuckers, we want a show.” Someone grasped at your coat and yanked you into the mob of people, you tried screaming Curtis' name but you were jostled too quickly, shifting from person to person, and you could see Curtis pushing through, trying to keep an eye on you as he split the crowd apart.

One thing that the frontenders were not was fighters. Curtis was easily able to shove and punch his way through. You ended up getting slammed into a giant steel door with a W on it, your head colliding painfully making you see stars and you were just coming around as someone was trying to pry open your coat. You slapped at him, and kicked him away, pulling it back closed. Curtis soon joined you, roaring for people to get back which for whatever reason they did, shrinking away enough so he couldn't hit them, making threatening moves to come forward again though hoping to intimidate him. The door behind you creaked, and you grabbed the back of Curtis’s jacket to pull him through, sure that you two would be safe.

The next room was nothing more than computers. You remembered this part of the movie, realizing that you were near the front and hopefully the end of this nightmare. Once Curtis was through, you slammed the door shut, pressing your forehead against it with a sob of fear while the crowd rushed forward, feeling the steel door shake with the force.

“Were safe, for now.” you said as you moved to straighten, and someone other than Curtis spoke.

“Yes, finally I’ve been waiting for a few days now for you two.”

A shiver racked your body as ice dread filled your veins and you looked over your shoulder to see Curtis shaking too. But not in the same way you were, instead he was trembling in adrenaline and rage at the man sitting so calmly before you. Wilford smiled at the two of you as he brought a fragile cup of steaming tea to his lips and slurped it loudly, smacking his lips. “I will say though, it's been a hell of a show. Sit sit! Coffee, tea? How about a night cap?”

You tug on Curtis’s sleeve to try to get his attention, but he's hyper fixated on Wilford, shaking you off. He storms forward to get his hands on him when Wilford pulls a gun out of his robe, aiming it for Curtis.

“Another step Everett, and I will not hesitate. SIT.”

With a look of absolute hatred on his face, begrudgingly Curtis did as told, whilst you remained still pressed against the door, feeling the slams of bodies pound on the door. “Come Y/N my dear, you have nothing to be worried about.” Wilford said in a manner so happy you wanted to scream at him.

Curtis's accusing and hurt eyes turned towards you after Wilford said that, and you shook your head at him.

“I swear Curtis, it isn't like that.” although why you were apologizing to your rapist captor you had no idea.

“I fucking know what it was like” Curtis spat “This was all a set up wasn't it?”

Wilford gave a chuckle as he poured liquor into fancy glasses, bringing them to the table.

“Well yes, it was a setup Curtis. But I assure you Y/N didn't know.” He pushed the glass to Curtis, and his icy blue eyes twinkled in joy. “But this is the first time you've gotten this far in a while.”

His head whipped back to Wilford. “Gotten this far?”

“Oh yes, you don't seem to like staying in your preordained position Curtis.” Wilford sighs as he finishes his drink. You listened intently, this too wasn't right. “But such is life… or death? More like this is our death. So, time for you to return.” Wilford gave a snap of his fingers, and Curtis stiffened, moving to a stand almost robotically.

“Curtis?” you whimpered out a bit seeing him stride back towards you, everything you knew about him was missing as you gazed up at him. He brushed past you, his hand cupped your face, thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheek before whispering. “I'm sorry…” he whispered in such a broken way, your mouth just dropped, gaping at him. Gone was the rage and fight, leaving just sorrow on his face and he slipped out the door back into the crowd. You spun around to watch him disappear into the mob, Wilford watching your reaction curiously. The door slammed shut suddenly, making you jump and spin around to face the only person left with you in the room. “Why is he sorry? I don't understand what is going on, any of this. Why is he just leaving me here with you?!” your voice breaks as you're saying this, so close to just melting down at the stress and fear that was taking a toll on your body.

“He’s sorry because he knows exactly what this place is and that he caused it. You see, before Curtis was this tailend leader, He was head of a construction crew for Rose Red, back in 1903.” Wilford seemed to struggle with remembering the date. “1904? Anyways, he was laying the foundation of Rose Red, while I was honeymooning with Ellen. I didn't want her to see any of this half finished, so we were touring across the world. Curtis had one major deadline, to finish our house in two years. I received telegraph after telegraph of nothing but issues from him. Working conditions were subpar, men were getting injured or killed in accidents of construction. The demands were unfair, pay not enough.” Wilford rolled his eyes listing the complaints, you were just listening in silence still in shock at what happened. “Finally I had enough, sent back that he was to be removed from the ground by authorities and another hired to take his place. Simple, correct?” He asked as if you were to answer. After a few seconds of those icy blue eyes staring at you he went back to the story. “Curtis thought he had all this ‘responsibility' to his men.’ Something in him snapped, and that bastard tried to stop the train I had bringing supplies in from the harbor. Curtis didn't just stop the train…” Wilford gave a chuckle of disbelief. “No, his attempts derailed the train where it sits now. Screeching metal coming to a stop, and killing hundreds of men onboard, himself included. That day is when Rose Red came to life, all that death, all at once stains the earth, the blood soaking into the dirt while they perished in the smoke and flames, trapped in steel boxes. When something that tragic happens, it stains the earth, trapped energy that allows hell on earth.”

You shook your head in disbelief, snapping out. “Impossible, whatever this is… why didn't Curtis just end you, we made it. This sick game you're playing with us. That's all this can be. I paid for an interactive experience, but not this.”

“Whatever this is, it’s your fate little girl, accept it.” Wilford cut you off with a snap, smoothing his hands over the fine silk of his robe. “And don't worry about Curtis Y/N, he will return safely to the tail end, and start all over again, that is the way it has to be, that is what fate Rose Red wants for him.”

You could feel bile threatening to burn its way up your throat, you couldn't let yourself believe what he was saying, as it was simply impossible. These things didn't exist, they were books and movies, tales told to tell children to scare them into behaving. Ghosts? Haunted Houses. Your mind echoed Bryce’s words earlier that night ‘You know that shit isn't real’. So what was Wilford playing at? You finally snapped, giggling, turning into laughter. Wilford ignored you, till you started screaming at him.

“YOU GO GET STACEY, CAUSE I WANT THE FUCK OFF THIS TRAIN, NOW.” your voice kept getting shriller with each word. “WHEN BRYCE HEARS ABOUT THIS, YOU CAN BET HIS GRANDFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHARITY FUNCTION.”

Wilford arched one brow and chuckled, moving to a stand, and wrapping his fingers around the second untouched glass. “Stacey? Y/n, you know what you saw. Wasn't Stacy’s face smashed in?” You closed your eyes, pushing down the image, chanting in your mind, not real, not real, all pretend. “Matter of factually Y/N, you have Bryce to thank for your active participation in Snowpiercer.”

Your eyes snap open at this, narrowing on Wilford “Bryce? What does Bryce have to do with whatever this all is?” you’re confused at why your boyfriend would be mentioned and you slide along the wall to keep away from Wilford as he comes closer to you till you bump into the table and fall into Curtis’s seat.

“Why everything Y/N. You see, Rose Red Manor is indeed haunted. My wife Ellen, that is her domain. Your boyfriend happened to break in looking for some artifacts I came back with when we were on our honeymoon in Africa. They would be considered valuable now, but my grandson didn't care to have my collection so they remained in the manor. Bryce though, well he admired the pieces, wanted to study them.” Wilford gave a shake of his head with a sigh. “Bryce was of course killed by Ellen. Her rage towards me, makes her banish men's souls to the ground.”

And then your mind recalled the story, Rimbauer infected his wife with some unknown disease while they were on their exotic honeymoon, that was why the rumors went that men who entered Rose Red were gruesomely killed, where women simply disappeared to never be seen again…

“Bryce isn't dead, I saw him. I talked to him tonight.” You shook your head

“Yes, he's very much alive now Dear, but he wasn’t for a time. His body was stuck in the house, ready to rot right where Ellen killed him. But she banished his soul from the house, and left Bryce's soul wandering the grounds, he happened to stumble upon my part of Rose Red, what luck.” Wilford sipped from the glass, swirling it a bit. “You know I miss the real stuff?” shrugging he set it down. “Bryce happened to find me, begging to be brought back, and would give anything to return to the living. I had no interest, all that matters is Rose Red has fresh souls to feed off of. But your boyfriend made a proposition that I was intrigued with. An innocent soul in his place. Do you know how valuable an innocent soul is? So much more to give, cruel I know, the unfairness of using something so pure and innocent to keep his parasite of a house alive. But I must do what can to keep my Ellen happy in life or death. It is my fault she has to live eternity like this.” His cold fingers traced your face, you wrenching back out of his touch.

“No… he wouldn't do that, he wouldn’t sacrifice me…” you whispered, your throat closing and your heart slamming in your chest. And then the wave of realization crashed over you. of course he would. Bryce was the most selfish man you've ever met.

Wilford tsked a bit. “Well one innocent soul isn't enough to feed Rose Red, to give the house enough energy to keep building like Ellen wants. The house must keep growing, Ellen’s soul would die and fade away if she couldn't keep adding more to her collection. I told Bryce two innocent souls, delivered by tonight, and he could leave alive and free. But don't worry, Bryce will pay eventually, you can't make a deal with a devil and expect to walk away untainted.”

Not Stacey too. You screamed internally. No wonder Bryce insisted you take her as well.

“I must be asleep, a nightmare.” You spit out, your hands shaking as you rubbed at them, trying to wipe off the dried blood, hoping it would wake you up, that all this was some kind of crazy your mind made up. Wilford almost looked sympathetic when he spoke again.

“I’m afraid not Dear. Bryce told me about how you loved this Snowpiercer story, so I figured if you're going to be condemned to this, might as well be enjoyable.”

“I don't want to be condemned! Please how can I get out of this?” You started to figure out ways to bargain, like Bryce apparently did. But Wilford responded with a mere shake of the head.

“Ahh, that won't be happening. Innocent souls are much stronger. Rose Red can keep building now… many years on you alone. Ellen will be much pleased. Curtis also likes you as well, he was always one of my favorite victims of Rose Red.” Wilford leaned back in his chair. “Since he's banished to an eternity of hell, he deserves someone to make it easier. His own little songbird singing him hope. Any other girl I’ve sent him, he always ends up murdering her before he gets cut down.”

You were whipping your head back and forth, pushing to a stand to start looking for a way out, anyway to get off the train, and Wilford just watched you for a moment processing all that he was saying.

“If it's any help, you will be joined with Stacey again. Maybe your next trip to the front, you will manage to keep her alive.” Wilford moved to a stand as you tried to open the door, yanking on it to open, when he twisted you to face him, your bottom lip trembling as you looked up at him.

“Please… I don't deserve this.” you whimpered.

“You don’t Dear, but you're going to endure it as we all must. Very few victims of Rose Red actually deserve the fate that has befallen them.” He plucked the Rose from his breast pocket from earlier and laced it through your hair while you trembled, tears rolling down your face as you started to accept the truth of it all.

“You're not going to let me off this train, are you?” your voice trembled with defeat, and Wilford shook his head.

“No, you now belong to Curtis Dear. His one reward for his life of hell. Although I will leave you with a parting gift. Your memory will remain so you can help him make his way through the Cars to the end. Save you from some of the pain of being brutally killed.” fear washed over your face and Wilford smiled gently to reassure you, although there was no way it was going to make you feel any better, be less afraid. “I will be seeing you again soon Dear.” Wilford said softly before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, your eyes closing in defeat.

You opened to darkness, gasping as you tried to understand where you were. It was intensely cold again, and a dim light came into your view, a tiny fire from a match. A familiar face loomed from the darkness to rake cerulean eyes over you, his head tilting as he looked you up and down.

“Wilford sent us a present.”

No, not again. You think as you're dropping to your knees to beg Curtis not to hurt you. “Please, have mercy on me.”

“Mercy? Were we ever shown any mercy? I don't know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

And then he gave a shake of his wrist, killing the match and plunging you both back into the darkness.

Your hell started all over again.

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer #snowpiercer fanfic #rose red's all hallows eve #amber writes #sweater writes

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avidreider · 4 years

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Journals Part 1 ~ flatline (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Journals Series

Based on the song, “Flatline” by Justin Bieber.

Summary: Spencer is physically and emotionally distant and Reader decides that she won’t tolerate it anymore.

Pairing: (Pre-Prison) Spencer Reid x Reader.

CW: angst, cursing.

Key: Y/N = your name, italicized = unspoken thoughts, bold = texts/emails/notes, bold + italicized = song lyrics.

-- I do not own rights to the gif nor the song. --

When you and Spencer first started dating, you couldn’t have been happier if you tried. He was always so attentive and caring and all of your previous relationship trauma and insecurities melted away. He had been rather transparent about the fact that he came with a past of traumatic experiences of his own, but he refused to weigh you down with the details of all that baggage. His friends vaguely explained that he suffered from addiction and lost a past girlfriend at the hands of an unsub. However, you never discussed any of this with Spencer. Regardless, you assured him that you would stand by him no matter what.

Your relationship progressed somewhat quickly, but it was because the feelings you had for each other ran so deep. You didn’t get to spend much time with him - you were a medical resident and the nature of Spencer’s job significantly limited your time together. You dedicated large chunks of time to your own job, though, so you never complained about how much time he spent with the BAU.

You did begin to complain, however, when he would leave in the middle of the night for ‘work,’ but then you’d get a call from Penelope or Emily asking you two what you were up to on an evening off. The first time it happened, you assumed that he just needed a break after a long case. But the second, third, and fourth time you became quite insecure. And this night, the fifth time, you felt the anger before anything else.

“Sorry, baby, but I have to head into work. They need me,” Spencer had said to you, as he walked into the bathroom to get ready. You were immediately suspicious, so you called Emily to confirm your suspicions.

“Hello? You okay, Y/N?” she said when she answered on the second ring.

“Yes, Em, I’m fine! How are you?”

“I’m okay. I think Morgan, Garcia, and I are gonna go out for some drinks if you and Reid would like to come!”

You felt your eyebrows shoot up, even though you weren’t necessarily surprised. “I’ll discuss it with him. Thanks for the invite!” and with that, you hung up.

“So Spence, what’s the case that has you rushing off at 11pm?”

“Oh, we won’t know until we get there,” he responded.

“That’s so unfair that they’re making you work, especially when half the team is out clubbing,” you spat, daring him to deny the truth that you already knew.

When he said nothing, you inquired, “This isn’t the first time that you have said you had to go work when you didn’t. So what is going on? Did you fall off the wagon? Is there another woman? Did you lose the feelings you had for me?”

“No, Y/N, God -- how can you think that I’ve been doing drugs?”

“That wasn’t the only thing that I asked you, Spence.”

“I have been going into the office to help JJ with the backlog of paperwork that she has to deal with. I also go there just to clear my head. I don’t want to just sit around here with you when I can’t focus on you. I don’t want to bring my work or other problems home with me -- I want to keep this apartment a happy place.”

“Oh Spence, it’s our apartment. Of course it’s a happy place. I don’t want you to feel like you have to face your demons alone. If there is anything you want to talk about, I am here for you. I love you, babe, and your problems are my problems,” you assured, as your rubbed soothing circles onto his back.

He hugged you back, and a few moments passed before he spoke again. “I don’t want my problems to end up being your problems, Y/N. You are so incredible, and-and I’m sorry, don’t take this the wrong way, but I just need some space.”

Your mouth was wide with shock. Space? How could you take that in the ‘right’ way? How could he ask you for space when you only spent a few short hours with him in the span of a week? Your residency takes up between 40-80 of those hours, and his job usually takes up more than that. You also make a conscious effort to spend time with his friends and your friends, as well as designate time for yourselves. You practice self-care or go to the gym, while he sits at his desk and reads, or writes letters to his mother. When you do spend time together, you rarely argue. You snuggle as he reads to you, or talks about his cases (and you talk about your day at the hospital), you watch your favorite television shows, or you’re asleep. You thought that you had the perfect relationship. But apparently Spencer didn’t agree.

“I’m just gonna go out and get drinks with Emily, Derek, and Penelope. You can come if you want, but otherwise, just enjoy your ‘space,’“ you said, with a snarky emphasis on the last word. And with that, you got dressed and walked out the door.

You stumble back into your apartment early the next morning, and end up passing out on the couch. When you wake up, Spencer is sitting in the chair next to you with almost a guilty look on his face. “Good morning,” he said once he saw your eyes open.

“Good morning,” you mumble.

“So, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I’ve agreed to be a volunteer teacher at a local high school. They’re incredibly short-staffed, and they want me to step in when I can for physics, biology, and psychology. I-I also agreed to be a mentor for the school’s chess club,” he said.

“Okay, Spence. That sounds like a great opportunity,” you replied with feigned optimism. Great. Even less time I get to spend with him. But whatever. If he needs this much space from me, I’ll give it to him.

The next couple weeks passed slowly; Spencer was only home early in the mornings (while you had to get ready for your shift at the hospital), and late at night (when you were already asleep). You loved that he was so passionate about his job, but you were beginning to feel resentful that he chose to take on all these other commitments when it was clear he was neglecting your relationship.

Lately you've been busy, Wonderin' if you miss me, Why did you go against me? I just wanna know... How come you act so different? Talk to me, I'll listen, All the love I'm givin', don't act like you don't know...

You hadn’t been intimate in nearly 3 weeks; the last time being a few days before you went out for drinks with Emily, and you hadn’t felt like he truly loved you since even before that night. And quite frankly, those feelings were justified because he hadn’t said it since then, either. He still called you periodically, and texted you when calling you wasn’t an option, but those conversations were incredibly dry and only made you feel worse. In a desperate attempt to try to feel connected to Spencer, you logged onto his laptop on his desk and, if you were being honest with yourself, started snooping. You found that he had been emailing a teacher at the high school that he volunteers at. You wanted so badly to trust him, but the feeling your gut told you to read them.

To: Ms. Everett

From: Spencer Reid

Re: Biology

Ms. Everett

Thank you so much for letting me lead the lecture on genetics. You sure know your stuff! Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t believe that you teach high school! You are a brilliant woman, I can’t believe you aren’t out there finding the cure for cancer or something. If there is anything else that I can do for you or your class, please don’t hesitate to email or call me!

With Regards,

Spencer Reid

Call him? Does that mean she already has his phone number? I don’t think that Spencer has ever called me brilliant before, either. She’s so brilliant, but his girlfriend who is actually a doctor isn’t?

You knew that your thoughts were relatively petty, but you didn’t care. Your feelings were hurt. You kept reading anyway.

To: Spencer Reid

From: Ms. Everett

Re: Biology

Dr. Reid,

Oh please, call me Lila! And I thoroughly enjoyed your lecture! You are one captivating man! And thank you, but you don’t have to stroke my ego! I considered medical school as well as graduate research positions but my true calling is teaching children! Maybe one day I can teach your sweet Godson! I will give you a call! If you don’t have any plans this weekend, perhaps we can grab a coffee?

Love, Lila

LOVE? Is that a stab at me? I took the ‘easy way out’ by going to medical school? Who is this bitch?

To: Ms. Everett

From: Spencer Reid

Oh, you don’t have to use my honorific! Spencer or Spence is fine. And that is incredible. I love teaching children as well, obviously. I have a feeling Henry would love you! And yes, coffee would be great.

Spencer

Hmm. Is it considered cheating to get a coffee with some strange woman who you flirt with virtually (and do not tell your live-in girlfriend about)? Something is telling me ‘yes.’ Also, he’s letting her call him “Spence”?

You read a few more of his emails along those same lines, until you felt sick. After the nausea passed, the rage came. You pulled out your phone to send Spencer a text message.

At first, you just wanted to see if he’d lie.

You sent a text that said: Hey babe! How’s work going? If you don’t have a case this weekend I’d like to go out on a date or something. I miss you!

Hi baby. I might have plans, it depends on the day... he responded.

What plans? You asked innocently.

Just professional plans. That’s kinda vague, Spence.

Coffee plans, with super brilliant people?

Yeah, boring stuff. But I’m sure that you and I can still do something.

The rage began to build as you realized that he was actively keeping Lila a secret from you.

Oh SPENCE. When were you going to tell me that you want space from me just so you can spend more time with some slutty biology teacher?!

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

What are you talking about?

Don’t play dumb with me Spencer. “You’re a brilliant woman”?! Are you kidding me? How long were you planning on keeping Lila a secret from me?

This time the buzzing was more persistent. He was calling you.

“What, Spencer?”

“How do you know about Lila? Did you go through my computer?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “Yeah, obviously. And I don’t regret it, because apparently you were never gonna tell me about her. Which isn’t even surprising, you don’t talk to me at all anymore. But if you were gonna cheat on me, maybe you should’ve just broke up with me instead!”

“She’s just a friend, Y/N, and I never cheated on you! I never would. I-” but he didn’t get to finish, because you hung up. You have been so close to your breaking point these past couple weeks, and Lila was that little push it took to send you over the edge. You packed as many clothes your suitcase could fit and took off to your best friend’s house. She would let you stay, no questions asked. And that was a good thing, because you didn’t wanna talk about it just yet. She let you in her home with open arms, prepared to be that beacon of emotional support you’d been lacking from Spencer.

---Spencer’s POV---

COME ON, Y/N, ANSWER THE PHONE! Ugh, why did you have to go through my computer? Are you that insecure?

The phone kept ringing, but to no surprise, she didn’t answer.

I’ll call Derek. Everyone knows he’s had his fair share of relationship issues.

“Hey pretty boy, what’s up?” He answered.

“Derek, Y/N won’t answer her phone.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“Why do you assume that it was me who did something wrong?”

He just laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Pretty boy, for a genius you can be so dumb sometimes. I assume that it was you who made a mistake for two reasons. For one, you called me for what I can only assume is advice on how to fix it. And for two, you’re the man. It’s usually the men who mess up in relationships. So what’s going on?”

He had me there. “Okay so for the past couple weeks things between us have been... off. I’m not sure what I was feeling, but I told her that I needed space. I think I got scared because we established a routine. It made me nervous. So I picked up some hobbies.”

“What kind of hobbies?” His suspicious tone made me feel guilty.

“I volunteered at the high school to help with some classes and to mentor the school’s chess club. But while I was there, I met this biology teacher -”

“A female biology teacher, I assume.”

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“Reid, I know where this is going.”

Where was this going?

“She’s a pretty woman, huh?”

“Well, yes, Lila is pretty and smart, but so what? I’m allowed to have friends. But anyways, her and I began emailing and we planned on getting coffee and Y/N got on my laptop and read those emails and -”

“You can’t be that stupid, Reid. First of all, you don’t actually want space from Y/N. You are always beaming after spending time with her. You love her more than you love yourself, and everyone knows that. Everyone but her, and probably Lila now - and that is probably one of the worst things you can do. You can’t let your woman feel like she has to compete with other women, and you can’t let other women feel like they have the chance to steal you away. That’s how you lose a good woman. You were emailing this woman, and you set up a date with her? After reducing the already limited time that you have to spend with your girlfriend, who is also incredibly pretty and smart too, I might add.”

“Oh...” OH! She’s not insecure, I’m just an idiot. I didn’t even want space at all, I was just scared. I just didn’t want to get complacent. When my parents got complacent in their relationship, it ended. Same with Hotch and Hailey. And Penelope and Kevin. Oh my God. What did I do?

“Exactly, pretty boy. You better show up at home with some flowers and chocolates and be prepared to kiss her feet. And I’d take a break from lecturing at that school, too.”

“Yeah, no doubt. Thanks Morgan.”

“Go get her, tiger.”

After hanging up, I opened the messaging app on my phone to send her a text just to let her know that I am willing and ready to fix my mistake.

Hey baby. I just want you to know that I won’t volunteer at the school anymore, if you don’t want me to. I will also take you out this weekend, wherever you want. I love you, and I’m on the way home.

I was out there on the road, life out of control, She became a victim to my busy schedule, And I know that it's not fair, that don't mean that I don't care - This one's dedicated to the girl out there...

She probably won’t respond, but that’s fine, we will talk when I get home. I asked the florist for a sunflower and rose combination, and bought food from her favorite Mexican restaurant downtown. I also stopped at the grocery to get a tub of ice cream along with chocolate, caramel, and strawberry syrup, with candy and sprinkles to make sundaes. I one-upped Derek’s recommendation, and I couldn’t wait to tell him about it.

“Baby, I’m home! We need to talk. I am so, so, sorry sweetheart... Y/N?” I shout, even though it’s pretty clear she’s not here.

Setting my bag on the end table, I notice a note on the refrigerator.

Spencer,

I am really sorry that I didn’t end up being good enough for you. I hope you don’t mind but I’ll be back for the rest of my things eventually, but if you still need space from me, it can wait. Thank you for the best year of my life. You were amazing, and I hope that Lila makes you feel the way that you made me feel. I will always love you, and I know that you will continue to do amazing things in life. Tell your mom that I love her, too.

Love, Y/N

It was actually 15 months, 6 days, and 43 minutes, approximately.

I dialed her number without even thinking about it. Still no answer.

I can’t believe that she left. It feels like I’m drowning - my breath is caught in my chest. BREATHE SPENCER!

She took most of her clothes. She took her computer and books too. She’s gone. She left me. Oh no. What have I done?

Girl you always catch me at the bad time, When I know you probably think it's a lie... And I know I told you last time was the last time, How could you pull the plug and leave me flatline?

Not breathin', what is it that I'm not seein'? Said she's leavin', damn I can't believe it... It's like my heart's bleedin' - Knowin' that you don't need me. Shut my heart down, now I don't know what Imma do now...

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer #dr. reid #dr. spencer reid #doctor reid #reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x you #spencer x y/n

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nightmarewritings · 3 years

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I posted 3,301 times in 2021

1228 posts created (37%)

2073 posts reblogged (63%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.7 posts.

I added 4,369 tags in 2021

#others stuff - 2030 posts

#anonymous - 480 posts

#my stuff - 473 posts

#not worksafe - 426 posts

#headcanons - 224 posts

#alder darling - 219 posts

#memes - 156 posts

#julian sallow - 136 posts

#everett byrd - 116 posts

#horror - 109 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#julian hates the idea of having a kid out there and would never acknowledge any potential offspring unless court ordered lol

My Top Posts in 2021

Hi! May I please request Jason, Bo, Brahms, Vincent and Thomas for what made them realize their s/o was THE ONE?

Prepare for some fluff!

Realizing Their S/O is The One

Jason Voorhees-

Jason realizes it very early on, before you even meet actually, when he sees how kindly you treat the animals of the forest and the respect you show for nature. You seem so much like the kind of person his mother would approve of.

He couldn't bring himself to kill you, instead doing his best to show he had fallen for you, and your reciprocation of his affection sealed the deal for him.

He does everything he can to show you how much he loves you, and how happy he is with you. You two may not be able to get married (him being an undead serial murderer and all), but the bond you grow over time and share is unbreakable.

Bo Sinclair-

It takes Bo a very, very long time to realize you're the one. Even after you've been allowed in the house and start sleeping in his bed. He's just not a very trusting person, and it takes you almost dying to realize how he feels.

You jumped in front of the knife swung by a would-be victim, getting a deep gash across your chest and fainting from shock. Bo saw red and jumped them, turning the knife on your attacker and ending their life.

While you're getting stitched up by Vincent, Bo realizes he never felt more scared before in his life than when he thought you died. When you wake up, its the first time he tells you he loves you.

Vincent Sinclair-

Vincent realizes you're the one when he wakes up in the middle of the night. You're snuggled up to him, your face against his own and sleeping happily. The events of the past year with you have been the happiest moments of his life.

He looks over at you, his muse, his companion, his best friend, his confidant, and he can't imagine life without you by his side. You're always there for him, you inspire his art, and you've never once shown even the slightest hint of disgust or fear about his face.

Vincent slides out of bed, careful to not wake you up, and gets to work trying to make a painting to express how deeply he feels about you.

Brahms Heelshire-

When you had to choose between saving yourself or saving the doll from a dangerous intruder, and you chose to risk your life to save his doll, Brahms knew you were a keeper, but it was only after he revealed himself to you, saving your life, and you were so grateful and not terrified of him at all, that he realized he had feelings for you.

As the two of you settle in together, it's still slow for him to break from seeing you as just the one caring for him that he also has dirty thoughts about. But then one night he watches you through the walls as you sleep, and hears you say his name.

It happens suddenly, like a gun shot. Brahms realizes then and there that he doesn't want to ever be without you, even if you make a mistake or slip up he wouldn't want to punish you, he just wants to be with you no matter what. He comes out of the wall and climbs in bed beside you, going to sleep.

Thomas Hewitt-

Takes Thomas a while, but he's had feelings for you for a long time, and even after being together for several months it still doesn't seem real to him. He keeps expecting to wake up and you're gone, never having existed in the first place. But there you are, every morning when he opens his eyes.

It happens one day outside of Luda Mae's store. The two of you were helping her clean up after a storm, when some customers got rowdy, shouting abuse at Thomas. It wasn't anything new or anything he hadn't heard at least a dozen times before in his life, but you didn't stand for it. You marched right up to them and told them off.

Thomas had to step in and save you, but seeing you stand up for him made him realize just how much you loved him and how much he realized you. He might even start thinking about marriage.

210 notes • Posted 2021-01-16 10:30:39 GMT

Which slasher would be surprisingly good at being a dad?

It's hard to determine who would be the best dad, since even if they're well meaning they can still fuck up pretty bad, but I've got a decent idea of rough categories I could fit them into:

Slashers As Dad Types

Fun Dad, Bad At Disciplining- Bubba Sawyer, Freddy Krueger, Josef , Brahms Heelshire

Strict Dad- Asa Emory

Balanced Dad- Jason Voorhees, Leslie Vernon, Thomas Hewitt, Jesse Cromeans, Bo Sinclair

Distant Father- Billy Lenz (2006), Michael Myers, Vincent Sinclair, Patrick Bateman

DO NOT LET HIM HAVE CHILDREN-

Billy Lenz (1974)

217 notes • Posted 2021-03-29 20:23:20 GMT

I've started off the year in a slasher obsession and I'm loving it! Can I please have hcs of Bo, Vincent, and Thomas of their child calling them daddy/dada for the first time?

I'm biased as hell but I think that's the best way to start the year! This was so heartwarming to write.

Their Child Calls Them Daddy For The First Time

Bo Sinclair-

Really stresses to you how much he does not want his kid calling him daddy. Call him Pops, call him Bo, call him old man, call him mud, he just doesn't want his kid to call him daddy.

So the two of you avoid even saying the word around the little tyke for as long as possible. Then Lester slips up and calls Bo the kid's daddy.

The kid looks up at him with those big ol' eyes of theirs, the same color as his own, and calls him “Da...da?” so sweetly, that Bo just can't do anything but get the biggest smile on his face.

Okay so maybe it's not too bad after all, and when the kid is older he can steer them more in a “pops” or even just a “dad” direction.

Vincent Sinclair-

Vincent was worried from the moment the child was born that they wouldn't bond with him. That they'd want to see his face and then be scarred for life and hate him. He's thought about it a LOT and just winds up stressing himself out more.

That all changed one day when he was holding his small offspring while painting, his main way of bonding, and was so in the zone that the tiny hand touching his mask didn't even register until he felt it disconnect and fall off. He tries to turn and hide his face, but it's too late. He prepares himself for the screaming and tears he knows will come.

The baby giggles and reaches up for him “Daddy!”

Vincent freezes, then turns back to look at his child again. There's no crying, no terror, only love in that child's eyes. He cries tears of joy and holds them close, as happy as the day they were born. He'll be maskless around his baby a lot more afterwards.

Thomas Hewitt-

Thomas is almost always with his child, spending every moment of free time he has holding, carrying, feeding, playing with, and cuddling them. He doesn't even care that Monty talks shit about him for being so nurturing (Hoyt, suprisingly, doesn't care just as long as he still does his duties around the house), Thomas just loves his baby with every fiber of his being.

While he's reluctant at first, he does realize his kid is more likely to bond positively with him if they see him without his mask. So, very reluctantly, he lets the baby see his face. The big smile he got back told him all he needed to know.

Not long after that, the baby reaches up to him and calls him “Da!”, its first word. Thomas almost died of happiness right then and there.

Soon the kid is toddling around after him, yelling “Da!” and eventually “Daddy!” all day long. Thomas never gets tired of hearing it.

221 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 11:00:47 GMT

what's your top three slasher three some pairings that will lead to you needing a wheelchair and top three three slasher threesome parings for soft, sweet sex?

Trying to get back into writing, and this was perfectly short, thank you! Not worksafe!

Top 3 Roughest and Softest Threesomes

You’re Gonna Be Sore:

Asa/Reader/Jesse- Two brutal as hell guys shipped because they’re brutal as hell. Might need a wheelchair, might need a body bag. There's just no way in hell you're getting out of this without a lot of bruises and some bloodshed.

Bo/Reader/Vincent- Both of these boys are massive sadists and I think that would extend to their partner. Even if they love you, you’re gonna have a rough time. Also I hope you like being recorded, because these fellas like to immortalize.

RZ!Michael/Reader/78!Michael- Or anyone with them. They could both fuck you up bad, and would have to hold back so they can fuck you up good instead. There's still a good chance they'll break you, and have no remorse.

Kinda Sweet Ships:

Jason/Reader/Thomas- I think they’d be decently kind to a partner, still rough as hell but like, in a kinder way. Lonely mama's boys with a slightly gentle side, and dicks big as your forearm.

Martin/Reader/Brahms- Weird ship, I know, but they’re both kinda trapped in life and lonely boys. Would balance each other out I think. Martin is a bit more subdued than Brahms, and Brahms would make sure Martin doesn't uh... take a sip.

Leslie/Reader/Josef- Another weird ship, but I think they would also balance each other out. Leslie would calm Josef's more feral side, and Josef would add some surprise. Neither would be dull at all. They'd have fun!

251 notes • Posted 2021-09-08 18:01:23 GMT

I Made a Quiz

Find out who your slasher boyfriend is! 15 different results!

https://uquiz.com/UVkGyk

576 notes • Posted 2021-02-24 17:19:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #not worksafe

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startwithbrooklyn · 3 years

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THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 10, 2019 // the seancé

watched this while drinking and working my second job after my full time job (hence the drinking) when my supe called to tell me i didnt do enough work for them and could i start doing more because being tired after working an 8 hour day was just. unacceptable. (while i'm drinking during this ENTIRE call) anyway 🍸 i use nance/nancy interchangeably like luce/lucy

-"denial: smalltown USA's favorite pastime" 👌🏻👀

-the begrudging kiss + george w the coffee = lmfaooooooo awkss nance

-wonder who this FBI agent friend of owen's is since they never get to meet 😕

-"we just opened!" / "work ethic" how nancy views the claw/work is manifested in her constant lateness and skipping out. like she says "i never thought i'd be wearing this" its clear she has some of that upper middle class/white suburban bias against restaurant working that only becomes okay in the pretext of saving up for college. this is made ironic by ryan who jokes in s2 about having no money and working at a coffee shop, sharing nancy's opinion. also ironic is how a group of her coworkers "not my friends" at this same place she puts little appreciation into turn out to be her biggest support group

-carson & family dinners: seeing john sanders' texts w nancy and trying to keep up with what shes doing / makes you wonder how ryan would approach as a dad. judging by s2 he's less subtle than carson but possibly more effective for it (i have so many nancy&ryanthoughts but i'll wait till the reveal ep)

-steaks lmaooooooo what a white suburban dad thing to say

-"we are on the same side" / "why does it feel like we're on different teams" : laura/ace and nancy/nick mirrors (almost like some kinda men vs women showdown but these women do NOT trust these men...)

-why is the precinct "the least haunted building in horseshoe bay"? does lucy not haunt the police bc she knew karen was trying to get revenge/"justice" for her? or bc she doesnt want to haunt karen at all? and what of other ghosts? a police station seems like prime ghost material for officers of unsolved cases. is it chief mcginnis with his link to the supernatural keeping everything under control? if so, what happens when he leaves and tamura shows up? (based on the dress ep i cant remember if hes woke to the supernatural or not)

-"you would need an object lucy touched the night she died" nancy like -->😌it me

-okay. anybody who hugged lucy would HAVE to know she was pregnant?? like wtf

-LAURAAAA lmfaoooo

-UNPOPULAR OPINION: laura/nick - hatefuck - hes strong enough to top her with words AND hands - bringing out something tougher created by prison (like it rough/lose control) nick is presented to be so kind and almost always on top of his emotions but laura is def a canvas that can take a few hits. i can definitely see her being attracted to how much he doesnt really like her and wants to stop her from always getting her way. her pretentious ass motormouth is practically begging you to grab her by the arms and shake her to shut her up (and she would be begging you to shut her up too)(ik s2 nick/race talks/his mom ep would never ever do this to anyone but its a choice "what if" to me)

-this casting for teen candace to adult is on point

-so two days after lucy's death they pay him 50 grand from a shell company? he says it's for services rendered but then for what services? does everett know or suspect that the drews took lucys baby and pay them for taking care of an impertinence, including lucy, not really caring what really happened to her as long as shes no longer a threat to him? honestly could see a cover up. nance only does the reveal in her balmain tazer glory and we dont really get an honest reaction out of him iirc (the new actor they switched to shows wayyyyy less emotion than s1 guy) and he could easily fake surprise. obvs celia doesnt know bc s2 but whos surprised at that. i wonder what tipped her off that nancy could be ryans baby and prompted her to test. hmm. and payroll vs shell account. why would it have been paid differently. sus. 🤔🤔

-the irony of nancy picking at nick's story at the inn for karens deal + nancy straight up ignoring nicks proof w this transfer... like ep 1 "i'll tell you about my past if you tell me about yours" except...no, actually. "i'm just trying to solve this / it feels more like you're trying to solve me" its so true. and nancy really badgered nick into telling about his conviction but it was kinda payback for showing up at the claw and making her admit their "relationship" -like when george says "you need to be just as relentless", it was equal but nasty. like. nick never asked george for details about ryan that way. he even admits he doesnt wanna push her to ace after learning what not to do with nancy.

-this seance has nick so irritated w nancy lmfaooooo

-"half sister" so josh and patrices' last name is dodd- his grandpa must be a dodd also for the name of the shop. wonder why lucy's last name is sable, and where her dad is, and where josh's dad is as well- there's no mention of dads or stepdads anywhere for these two

-mcginnis knows theyre innocent / "work together" he knows they arent really suspects but he just wants to fuck with nancy. could be playful or just nancy's naivete. maybe he actually kinda missed her fucking around in his work and is trying to make up for the lost time when she withdrew from mysteries d/t her depression after kate

-nancy + knowing everybody else's secrets - nick's conviction, bess's family, george's affair, ace's deal w mcginnis and confronts them all in turn like nick and the secret phone, george from the meeting in the woods, bess from the passport/ring and acs's phone calls (they all somehow end up knowing all each other's secrets after a bit anyway)

-fuckin love Ted 😌🙏🏻💙

-when lucy grabs nancys hand i was just like "MOM!"

-if nancy had asked lucy if carson did it, she would have been spared the trial 👀🙃

-"even if you did, nothing was gonna stop you" true truuuuueeeee like. nick needs to be needed. nancy doesnt need him starting in episode 1. nick thinks that sex = relationship but nancy never saw it that way until she realized thats what nick wanted her to admit. "i wanna be with you / im trying" she is literally forcing herself to try and date him normally when thats honestly never what she wanted. and its nicks own fault here bc she never even wanted to be "official" but he forced that out of her too in front of coworkers no less. he set himself up to be disappointed

and lastly

-so carson stole the evidence, but what did he do with it? burn it like the dress?

#brooklyn's ND primer #nancy drew cw #the Great Rewatch of 2021 #you best start believing in ghost stories miss drew - you're in one

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captainmarkone · 4 years

Photo

Things Are Changing

Chapter One. Characters: Curtis Everett x Reader. Warning(s): Uhm, none... for now. Authors Note: I’ve been reading too much fanfic about this beautiful, damaged man that I had a specific idea on writing my own piece of work about him. I love this movie, I love this character. I hope you all enjoy my work. I’ve been out of the fanfic writing game and I hope... it’s good. SUMMARY: A few days before the revolt, Curtis meets the reader. Wondering why he hasn’t met her before in the tail section. All his plans seem to shift when he now has someone else to think about.

Sitting in your bunk, you were reading the last known book to ever exist. Tanya was kind enough to hand it to you; thinking you’d be the right person to keep it safe. She said it was a classic. Having the bottom bunk on the floor, your “mattress” was getting thinned out. Too thinned out to where you could practically feel the cold metal of the train floor beneath you.

Your legs were sticking out from the curtain and someone had tripped over your legs. Frustrated that it was the third time it had happened, you were fed up. Tired of being bothered by people that didn't know how to watch their step.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, pulling the curtain back some and looking out. The figure in a woven beanie looked down at you; his piercing blue eyes were darkened by thoughts. He stared at you, not changing his expressed.

You shivered from his stare. Christ.

“S-sorry, Curtis,” you muttered, slowly pulling your legs back from under the curtain and watched as he made his way down the way. Edgar, his second in command, following suit. Sighing heavily, you closed the curtain and took a deep breath. You didn’t know much about the male, but you knew he kept mostly to himself with the exception of Tanya, Gilliam, and Edgar.

“Way to go,” a voice said, opening the curtain and taking a seat beside you. It was Vincent, your childhood friend that boarded the train with you when you were both young ones.

“Yeah... tell me about it,” you said, breathing softly as you closed the book. You rested against the train wall, closing your eyes. Thinking of how he looked at you. Curtis never stared that long at someone.

“He was staring awfully long at you. Wonder what he was thinking,” Vincent said, smirking as he picked up the book. You immediately snatched it back. “Tanya gave it to me. No touching,” you warned, setting it under the pillow.

“Almost time for dinner... lets start heading out?” Vincent asked, and you nodded. Crawling from under your space, people were talking amongst themselves. Passing by Gilliam’s section of the train, you turned to catch the eyes of Curtis once more. He stared again, but you didn’t wanna hold eye contact too long.

Breaking the eye contact, you looked ahead and gripped Vincent’s shoulders when you walked toward the front of the tail section with him leading the way.

“Did he stare at you again?” Vincent asked, you didn’t answer. Instead, you sat down in the third row with him, Curtis would be in the fifth row. He always was. Hell, why were you even thinking about him? Wow, made eye contact once, twice, and all of sudden you think you’re getting married. Feeling the nudge Vince gave you, you returned back to earth from your thoughts and smirked.

“Yeah... I’m pretty sure it didn’t mean anything though. He stares at a lot of people, V,” you retorted. That was when Vincent scoffed and he nudged you again when someone sat next to you. Seeing it was Edgar, you brushed it off but felt him scoot away from you and another body replaced him. Turning, Curtis had made Edgar move so he could sit beside you.

Odd.

You smiled softly, and turned your head toward the doors. The guards came in, told you to stand and then sit as they counted. Getting in line for dinner, you got your protein bar, eating it without a grimace. At this point, nothing tasted bad anymore. Biting into the middle, you groaned and felt the metal graze against your teeth. Smirking, you pulled it out and felt a hand take it from you. Edgar had nodded at you and you let him have it. He disappeared with Curtis and you shook your head, returning to eat.

// CURTIS.

She had the bar. Obviously she had the bar. When she made a face and pulled out the silver capsule from her mouth, he smirked and nodded at Edgar to retrieve the metal. She didn’t question it, just let him take it. She shrugged it off and returned to her meal. She was with someone else. Someone he did notice every now and then.

“She didn’t even care. Now stop making googley eyes at her. We have business to tend to,” Edgar scolded, patting Curtis’ shoulder. Walking to the back, to Gilliam’s section, they began talking about the capsule. It was a name. Someone they had to break out. Someone that was of value. Hearing the rustling of the curtain, he saw it was the girl.

“Yes my dear?” Gilliam asked, his tone full of curiosity.

“I... I wanted to say sorry to Curtis. Sorry for tripping you... I-I didn’t mean to,” she continued. Curtis watched her, rubbing his beard and staring at her.

“When... when were you on this train? When did you come on?” Curtis asked the female, smirking. She gave a soft shrug.

“I was about... nine,” she answered, and she smiled softly. “Again... sorry,” she continued, and walked out, the curtain closing behind her.

“She’s pretty,” Gilliam commented, looking at Curtis who was back in his head. “Hm. I have other things on my mind,” Curtis said, looking down at the protein blocks in line. A girl was the last thing on his mind. Even if she was on his mind all damn night.

He laid awake in bed, talking to Edgar about what he remembered. Turning his head, he saw the boy she was with earlier pull open her curtain. Somehow... he was getting... upset over it.

// READER.

You could hear them. Talking about life before the train. You sighed softly. You barely remembered. It was tough, hard to think about that far back. Your parents were long gone. Having died but a little over two years ago. It was an infection for your dad that claimed him, while heartbreak took your mom not long after. You were alone. No one else in the world.

Feeling the light breeze move over you, your eyes opened. Tears had clouded your vision but you could tell it was Vincent. It wasn’t long when voices fully woke the tail section up. Health inspection. Children only.

Standing there behind the children, your eyes wandered down to see Timmy hiding underneath Tanya’s skirt. Your eyes immediately shot away and looked at the person across the way. Not wanting to bring attention to it. But it was too late. Hell broke loose and they found Timmy.

“Leave him alone!” you shouted, feeling a punch land on your jaw and felt everything fade out. But you immediately came back, seeing Vincent hovering over you. “Come on... you’re okay. You’ve had worse,” he said, helping you stand. They had Timmy. They were gone.

How long were you really out? you wondered.

“How is she?” the deep voice said, Curtis standing to the side and moving toward you. “She’s fine... nothing she can’t handle. Have a good night, Curtis,” Vincent answered and ended the conversation there.

You laid in your bed, breathing deeply as the pain in your jaw was powerful. Making finding peace to sleep hard.

Curtis cared... why did he care?

#curtis x reader #curtis everett #snowpiercer #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #snowpiercer fanfic #chris evans #reader

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poptod · 4 years

Text

Brought To Your Knees (Kenny x Reader)

Description: 7-Elevens are a lot more versatile than one might originally think. AKA, sometimes you can get locked in them with your long-time crush and, following that, things can happen.

Notes: Freshman means you’re around 14-15 years old, Sophomore is 15-16 I think, Junior is 16-17, Senior is 17-18. Idk the American schooling system too well. Completely male reader.

Warning: Smut :) not sure why its there but hey everyone needs a gratuitous blow job every now and then

Word Count: 6.1k

You were expecting rain. You even brought an umbrella along, tucked away in the side pocket of your backpack, but an umbrella clearly wouldn’t work very well. Snow fell harsh upon the earth, cold and freezing near instantly, making a very thick layer of snow trap you inside the 7-Eleven, the doors frozen shut despite the fact that the heating was still on.

How exactly one gets trapped inside a 7-Eleven with the only person they’ve ever really loved probably needs some explaining, so let’s go back to the beginning; seven years ago. Seven years ago you transferred schools due to an unfortunate accident with a classmate, at least that’s what’s on your record. Half of you is grateful no one knows what really happened, but the other half wishes people knew you punched someone in the face hard enough to dislocate their nose. Though, looking at you, most people probably wouldn’t believe you, considering you haven’t got the strongest body structure. Your (at the time) new school was better than the last one in several ways, but the most important to you was the fact that it was a public school. There were horror stories about public schools, of unruly students and horrible teachers, and by god did you want to experience that - private school was far too clean, far too organized for your mind, and you were going slowly insane.

If there’s a term to describe you, it’d probably be ‘thrill seeker,’ if asshole can’t be said out loud. For the first couple of years you were a nuisance to classrooms, the well known class clown and always up for distracting the teacher (the history teachers were the easiest to distract, math teachers the hardest), and always ready to fight back for what you believed was right. Then came your first year of high school and you found the greatest thrill of all - boys.

Previously you hadn’t taken much of a romantic interest in either gender, and most people said it’d kickstart sometime in high school, which was about right - freshman year you had a crush on a boy named Everett. It wasn’t a particularly strong crush, not compared to your more recent crushes, but it was your first, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do. You wanted him to fall in love with you, hopelessly and endlessly, you wanted him to hang on your every word and dream of your affections... but you didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. No, you just wanted his adoration, and nothing more - only to lead him on and drop his heart to break it. When this didn’t happen and he didn’t fall in love with you, you realized that most boys are not attracted to other boys, and you became deathly silent when it came to crushes.

Several other boys (and maybe a girl) caught your fancy in the remainder of freshman year, but there was one boy you hadn’t yet met that would become the greatest thrill of all. Junior year you had a class with him, and on the first day of school when you walked into English class your bag fell from your hands, clattering to the floor with a loud thump.

He is perfect, in every conceivable way he’s everything you’ve ever imagined, shy and kind, sincere and genuinely interesting - just the sight of him from that day on and your heart speeds up tenfold. You’re a horror story that teachers talk about, so Mr. Davis is clearly flabbergasted at your silence, and for the most part he leaves you alone even though you’re barely paying attention to the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Instead your attention is focused on the boy sitting two seats in front of you and a row to the right. It’s almost surprising he hasn’t noticed your staring, but clearly Mr. Davis notices because about two months into the school year he pulls you aside to talk about it.

“I wanted to talk to you about your attention,” he says quietly, sitting behind his desk as you stand at the other side. You’re playing absentmindedly with your fingers, barely listening to him, only staying where you are to avoid another hour of detention today. “I know you’re usually very loud in class, word gets around easily here, but you’re staring at your classmate a lot.”

“And?” You ask, not really seeing the point. In your mind, he should be thankful you’re not a disruption.

“Is… is there anything you want to tell me? About Kenny?”

“Who’s Kenny?”

“… that’s the boy you keep staring at,” he says slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Ah, you think to yourself. That’s his name.

“Listen, (Y/N), I want you to know you’re always welcome in my classroom. This is a safe space for you, okay?” His voice goes to a whisper as he says, “I have a boyfriend, so we aren’t so different after all.”

“I’m not gay,” you spit out quickly, the venomous tone of your voice not deterring him.

“I know it can be hard to admit at first, and at your age I understand the confusion within yourself. Just know you can talk to me, okay? And try to pay more attention in class? I know you’ve got it in you.”

Without word you pick your backpack up from the floor, slinging it onto your shoulders and leaving. Just as you exit the main doors, noting the dark clouds low in the sky, you’re called back by one of the vice principals, ordering you to your detention.

“C’mon, it’s Friday,” you groan, walking backwards to stare at the teacher as you walk away.

“I’ll call your parents!” She threatens, whipping her flip phone out of her pocket.

“Oh yeah? What are they gonna do? Fuck off,” you laugh, throwing double middle-fingers at her, which lands you in three hours of detention.

At five thirty you’re released, an absolutely sour look on your face as you walk down the pavement. There’s a seedy part of the city that has a 7-Eleven you’ve been to so often you know the workers’ shifts. All of them are pretty nice, though all very tired of life and if you had to hazard a guess, mildly suicidal. At least that’s the look in their eyes, and you don’t blame them - customer service is one of the most horrid jobs in history. Friday evenings Alan has shift, and he’s rather nice, but upon opening the freezing door to the inside, you don’t see him. The door shuts behind you and you wander the aisles for a little while - you don’t have much change, you note as your fingers fiddle with the coins and bills in your coat pocket.

Several minutes later your attention is brought to the weather - it’s snowing, bad, and you groan internally at the wind force practically blowing down the stop sign out front. The few trees that survive in the city are barely hanging on now, flimsy limbs and branches ripping away from the main trunk. Again you groan, a grimace on your face when you think about having to go home in that. With a calming sigh you turn back to the hotdogs, spinning slow and peaceful in the warm light.

Heaven is one big 7-Eleven, you think to yourself. One of the very few things that calms you down is rotating hot dogs that probably aren’t real meat.

From the corner of your eye you can see someone else enter, but the wind blasting through the doors is enough for you to turn your head.

It’s Kenny.

Of course it’s him.

Gulping you turn back to the hot dogs, hoping beyond belief that Alan will get back soon. Kenny is the only person that’s ever rendered you speechless, the only one that’s ever made your cheeks blush without a word. Even in fluorescent light he seems to glow, peaceful and careful as his fingers drag a feather touch across a row of snacks. He hasn’t noticed you, not yet, so you have time to plan out how to hide from him. Instantly you turn to the cash register, wondering if you’d get kicked out of Alan found you hiding behind the counter.

Too late - you can feel his eyes turn to you, burning into the back of your neck as you hold a viselike grip on the edge of the plastic red counter.

“Um, do you, uh, work here?” He asks, now standing directly behind you. Trying to smile, you turn to face him, feeling your heart burn with the speed it beats at.

“No, I - I just know the guys who work here, I don’t know where they are now, though,” you say, oversharing a little bit and praying he doesn’t notice. He’s right in front of you, half confused as his lips part just barely, brows furrowing above grey eyes. You can practically feel your legs giving out beneath you, but he turns to the door before you fall in front of him. Practically gasping for air as he leaves your personal space, you watch as he goes to open the door.

“Is... is this supposed to be locked?” He asks.

“No, it shouldn’t be,” you breathe out, making your way over to the door to try and open it. It’s stuck, hard - you even back up to kick it and it doesn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re… you’re (Y/N), aren’t you?”

“You know me?” You ask incredulously, even though it’s not that farfetched that he would know your name.

“Of course I do, you’re like a legend at school,” he says, getting quieter as his sentence ends. As he fiddles with his fingers, awkwardly trying to look somewhere else, you can’t help but stare as you nearly always do.

“I’m flattered,” is what you manage to say, just as choked and embarrassed as him.

“I’ll stay out of your way, just - just don’t beat me up?” He requests, holding his hands up defensively as he backs away towards the corner of the small store.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I don’t do that,” you say, taken aback by his words. You know your reputation isn’t great, but you didn’t think it was that awful - you’d never beat up an innocent person and you didn’t plan on starting. “What are you doing here anyway? I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Um, my friend… he told me to meet him at the library, but the weather got bad and I needed to get inside,” he explains, still not meeting your eye.

God you’re perfect, you think to yourself in reaction to nothing in particular - he’s just so beautiful, so supple you can’t help but wonder what he’d feel like with his bare skin against yours. More than anything you want to belong to him, which you realize is strange for you; generally you enjoy others belonging to you, but… Kenny is different for no reason, but he’s so incredibly special you can’t understand your infatuation beyond the fact that it’s insurmountable and achingly enduring.

“I might be able to make a flamethrower,” you say, trying to think of ways to not be suffocated by nearness to the object of your unending affections.

“Wait, a flamethrower? What -“ he follows you frantically as you begin to search for flammable sprays - “what for!?”

“The door is frozen shut, we might be able to get out if I melt the ice away,” you say quickly, but he’s pulling at your arms to stop you from digging through the shelves. At the force you whirl around, face to face with him as your chest practically touches his, and in an instant you can’t breathe for fear of losing the moment. You both pause, frozen into shock before he steps back like you’re poison.

“I don’t think that’s, uh, necessary,” he says slowly, and just as slow you agree, nodding as you put the lighter away.

“Sure. You have a phone?”

“No, you?”

“I keep mine at home,” you mumble, untensing as the adrenaline of the moment fades away.

“Well this sucks,” he huffs, crossing his arms and turning awkwardly to the shelves as though he didn’t want you to see his face. “At least it could be worse.”

“No, don’t say that, the power’s gonna go -“

Darkness falls over the store and the heating system goes quiet, the dull background hum going out. A loud sigh comes out of you, letting your eyes accustom to the dark before thinking of what to do next.

“I think we might be stuck here till morning,” you grumble, the dim light of streetlamps casting a gold glow over the various rows and, of course, putting Kenny in a perfectly beautiful light. You can practically feel the blood rushing into your cheeks, and you quickly look away with crossed arms.

“I’m… sorry,” he says rather suddenly, just barely making his way closer to you.

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. “A beautiful coincidence.”

“… beautiful?” He asks, confused by your wording - it can’t possibly be a good thing to him.

“Yeah, I -“ you look over at him, fiddling anxiously with his fingers as he looks up at you - “Never mind. You tired?”

“No, don’t think i will be for a while,” he says, sitting with his back against the refrigerated drinks, the back of his head clunking against the cold glass.

“I’ll get a flashlight and a boardgame,” you tell him, the only idea in your head that didn’t sound stupid; the entire time you’re looking through the back for games, you’re kicking the thought of cuddling him out of your mind. The situation is perfect, far too perfect for it to work out well. Besides, these types of things generally don’t work out for you - as previously said, you’re a bit of an asshole, and that trait has a tendency to screw you over.

He just sits and waits, and when you come back a good five or ten minutes later, he’s still sitting in the same position. It strikes you as odd how he hasn’t even fidgeted considering how much he was doing it earlier, but you just shine the light in his face and cackle when he winces away from the brightness.

“All they had is chess. I guess Marie took back her game, which is fair,” you add as you sit yourself down across from him, putting the box in the middle of you two. “She got fired a while back and didn’t get her game when she left. I helped get her a key for the backroom,” you recall, chuckling, but Kenny looks partially terrified, so you stop.

“You know how to play?” He asks, rubbing his hands together as he starts setting it up.

“A bit. My brother tried to teach me when we were little, I never caught on much though,” you say, thinking distantly of how your brother was doing in university. “He’s a big math guy, loves strategy games like this.”

“So you don’t like strategy…?” He asks slowly, as though worried he’d offend you - you just shrug.

“It’s not that. I’m… just more of a romantic guy.”

For a good three seconds he doesn’t breathe, but when you raise your eyebrows questioningly, he picks up again with an absent nod. Once the last pieces are set into place, he does a quick run-through of the rules, and by the end of it you’re fully aware you’re going to lose at least the first few rounds. Neither of you have a grasp on time as you go through the first round, then the second, and onto the third - you lose very fast, that’s all you’re aware of. He’s sweet about it, for which you’re confused if not thankful. If you were to play chess with some of the people you hang with, they’d be mean about winning and they’d cheat on you, which is fair; you’d do the same to them. Now you’re being nice, trying to actually understand the game, and he’s being a complete sweetheart about teaching you the rules.

It isn’t something you’re used to, but it’s something you could be used to, and something you want to be used to - this sort of kindness. Despite all the thoughts running rampant in your head you manage to stay concentrated on the game - well, him more so than the game - and it almost feels like he might like you. That’s an improvement, you think to yourself, recalling his initial fear of you.

“Could I ask you something? If you don’t mind,” he requests after you both come down from a laughing high, and you agree easily. It’s only far too easy to be open with him. “There’s lots of stories that go around about you - there’s this one, this one’s my favorite, mostly because I don’t think it really happened, but it is really funny.”

“Really? Well, rumors are half right sometimes. What horrid thing did I do this time?” You ask, using the bottle opener on your swiss knife to pop open a beer bottle.

“It’s mostly just… inappropriate, not that it was a particularly ‘bad’ thing. I heard you… slept with Isla and Gianna like, at the same time, like every high school boys’ dream. The guy I heard tell it said you snuck into a sleepover or something?” He says slept like it’s disgusting, so that paired with absolutely everything else about him you assume he’s very unexperienced.

“That’s an interesting story, which I - I don’t usually tell the truth about,” you confess, waiting for him to make his next move in the game, but the moment never comes. He’s far too engrossed in your conversation, and as wonderful as it feels to be having a real conversation with your crush, you can’t help but hate the subject.

“Will you tell the truth this time?” He asks, quiet and sincere in a way that you don’t fully expect. It pushes you to trust him just a little bit more, and it’s all you need for the truth to come out for the first time about that story.

“I went to sell them some weed because they called me up n’ said they’d pay the price for bothering me so late at night, so y’know, I said ‘fuck it,’ you only live once right? I climbed into Gianna’s window for this too, and then they offered for me to share it with them. To be fair to myself I wasn’t feeling… too great about myself,” you grow quiet, “so I said yes. And then they started bringing up sex, and they kept trying to get me to make a move on them, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I didn’t want to do it, but it.. sort of happened anyway?”

He’s quiet, sort of nodding his head but he’s too far in thought to commit to the motion fully.

“Why haven’t you told anyone the truth before?” Is what he asks at first, and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s one of the easier questions.

“Didn’t want to seem like a pussy, that’s why,” you scoff, taking a smooth swig from your bottle. “It’s not a big deal anyway.”

“Kind of sounds like it,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a virgin,” you say, that asshole part of yourself that you were so worried about earlier rearing it’s ugly head. Right on time too, right when you could’ve opened your heart.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. You know what they say,” he says defensively, leaning back against he glass.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“The safest sex is no sex at all.”

“Yeah, and abstinence won’t get you pregnant 99.99% of the time,” you laugh. When he just looks confused, you explain, “Virgin Mary, dude.”

He opens his mouth to let out a tiny ‘oh,’ and at last the game is resumed. Throughout the next several rounds he asks more questions, but those times he doesn’t ever lose track of the game turns. By the end of the night, when you’re both finally yawning with dewey eyes, you’ve only won one round, which you’re very proud of.

“At least I beat you once,” you remark as you help him look for blankets to stay warm with. “I won a round against Mr. Chess Master.”

“And I won fourteen rounds against Mr. Sex,” he says, his eyes bulging out of his head as his hand slaps over his mouth once he realizes exactly what he’s said. You turn to him, shocked yet pleasantly surprised to find him so flustered. Dreadful is how you’d describe him, dreading your full reaction.

“Those aren’t the rounds that matter if I’m Mr. Sex,” you respond, trying to remain as smooth and deep as possible when you wink to punctuate your sentence. His mouth falls open when his hand drops back to his side, and you walk out of the storage room with a small smile.

You heave a massive sigh, gathering yourself back together once the door shuts behind you. It only takes a few seconds before he’s following you, but it’s all that’s necessary for you to gain your chill again.

“It’ll probably be easier to sleep back here,” you say, gesturing vaguely to the entirety of the backroom - it’s a tad warmer and carpeted, which is a plus for comfort. The one office chair is cheap and heavily scratched by god knows what, so you roll it into the corner and lay out a blanket on the floor. It’s not an especially nice blanket, which is what you expected. The only real source of warmth you have access to is the leftover coats from employees who didn’t care to take theirs home.

As you lay down on the blanket, covering yourself in a too-large trench coat, you wonder of the different ways the evening could progress. In fact it’s all you can think about, all your brain can stress about when Kenny lies down right beside you. He has his coat as a pillow, and without word you offer your coat to help cover him - he declines, mumbling something about how he’s already warm.

I could kiss him right now, you think, the thought sending shivers of anxious excitement and fear through your veins. He’s staring at the ceiling, and though your body is facing the same direction you’re looking at him, watching the slow movement of his chest and the tired blinking of his eyes. Or we could leave and never talk again.

You don’t know what you’re doing, hardly aware of your own movements as the back of your fingers caress the side of his face, pushing unruly hair away from his eyes. His breath catches in his chest for a moment before he turns to you, eyes wide but curious despite the obvious fear.

“You’re really handsome,” he barely gets out, a whisper that he stumbles over. Judging by his uncertainty in himself you’re confident in saying he’s being sincere - that and the fact that nothing about him insinuates he’d lead you on like that. There’s so many silent words shared between you, a bond that one hold tights while the other wonders how it’s possible.

One wrong move, you think, one wrong move and I fuck this up, just like everything else. The urge to hold him close, to grab his hands and keep them intertwined in your own runs strong through your cold fingertips, but you wait. You wait for him to make the first move, but he doesn’t even blink; he’s far too enraptured in the way your lips part just slightly, the way your eyelashes flutter when you glance nervously up and down.

“I really like you,” you say, though the words don’t fully come from your conscious self. Something grabs you, ties away your thoughts and says what you mean - exactly what you mean, something you hardly ever do. He reaches up towards your hand lying dormant beside his cheek, trailing over your skin till he tangles his fingers in yours, holding your hand tight in his as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. The entire time you stare, watching his eyes flit downwards as a blush you can barely see in the dark crawls up into his face.

In a swift movement the old coat is off of you, crumpled in some corner as you rest your forearms on either side of his head, supporting your body held above him. His breathing picks up and at last he finally looks into your eyes again, careful to watch for any sign of what comes next, but even you aren’t sure as to what you’re doing. Still you move down, inching closer till your lips press against his.

He’s clearly startled, even though he immediately moves against you, kissing up into you even if his hands don’t know where to go. In your position you can do very little, but you manage to thread your hand into his hair, tugging on it lightly as you move deeper, pulling a tiny, broken hum from him. When his hands wrap around your wrists it’s painfully obvious he’s never done this before, so you break away, letting the both of you breathe and smile when it’s finally, fully, consciously realized what just happened. It’s so starkly different than any other romantic encounter you’ve had, so openly loving and yielding you wonder if you’ll ever be able to kiss anyone but him again.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” you murmur, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. He almost laughs, breathy and unsure as he runs his fingers down your spine.

“You could’ve done it sooner,” he tells you, whispering the words into your ear, his lips tickling the edge of it as he speaks. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.”

“Really?” You ask, pulling away to look at him fully. He stammers when you rest your weight on his hips, the heat of your thrill burning through the layers of clothes to intoxicate him. “I haven’t ever seen you look at me once in class.”

“We have class together?”

“I sit behind you, Kenny. English class,” you chuckle, watching his lips purse together in embarrassment.

“I mostly watch you during lunch. I - I never said anything because… well, you know why,” he mumbles, once more unsure of where his hands are supposed to go, so he crosses them on his chest.

“I know,” you say, quiet as you think over your words. “You still could’ve come up to me, but… this works too.”

He breaks into a grin, giggling when you join him till you’re both coming down from a high - as the wide grins dissolve into contented smiles, you kiss again, moving slow and soft, softer than the girls you’d been with, sweeter and more innocent than any love you’ve known.

“It’s strange you know,” you mumble against his lips, interrupting yourself by kissing him again. “I usually go for degenerates, you know, people like me?” You kiss him again, deep and needy - “but God, I’ve never adored someone as much as I adore you.”

“Really?” He manages to get out amidst your attack, trying to get ahold of a rhythm you could kiss him to but you’re chaotic, switching from his lips to his jawline and pressing kisses up his neck.

“Yeah,” you rasp out, the beginnings of a hickey blooming red on his neck.

“Oh, I - oh, don’t leave a mark,” he says, but by the way he tugs at your hair and pulls you closer, you’re sure he really wants you to.

“Let me guess, strict parents?” You ask, pulling away to look at your work. He nods as though it’s something to be ashamed of, but you just sigh and smile, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “This is probably the only time we’ll be able to make lots of noise, though.”

“You mean this’ll happen more times?”

“If you want it to. I want it to,” you say, watching as he nods furiously.

“Yes, please,” he practically whimpers, pulling you in for another searing kiss, his new ferocity biting at your lips and making you moan. You’re grinding on him, hardly realizing your actions before you’re both far too worked up from the friction.

“Fuck, I need you,” you say, your hands going up his shirt to scratch at the soft skin there.

“I haven’t ever done this before,” he tells you, almost glaring at you when you mumble, ‘I knew it,’ but the glare is quickly cut short when you palm at him through his jeans.

“Do you want this? We don’t have to, you deserve better,” you stop for a moment, letting your hand grip at his hip while the other strokes soothingly through his hair.

“Better than a quick fuck in the back room of a 7-Eleven? Probably,” he says, a smile breaking across your face at his humorous tone. There’s a delight that runs through you when you hear him swear, but you try not to think about it. “But I don’t think either of us are gonna be able to sleep well with… this.”

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug, pulling him back into a kiss.

With fumbling hands he works at your pants, managing to unbutton the ragged material and push them partially down your hips. You do the same for him before pulling his shirt off, kissing down what you find to be a surprisingly toned chest. For as much as he’s bullied he’s incredibly attractive and rather fit, and for a second you wonder why he’s bullied so much, before remembering a lot of people are pretty racist, and the whole ‘being gay’ thing was pretty obvious to everyone.

A long, saccharine moan is pulled from his lips, forcing you to think only of him. At the sound you practically gape, a sudden virility going straight to your cock, which is now straining painfully against your boxers. You can’t remember what it was you did that made him moan like that, so you do everything you think could work - it proves a lot for him to handle. Tiny gasps leave him as you trace your fingernails over his chest, biting tiny love marks into his ribs as your own chest occasionally rubs against his crotch.

“(Y/N), please, just friggin’ touch me,” he whines, his head thrown back and staring blankly at the ceiling, too focused on the sensations to care. You almost laugh at his desperation, but when he grabs your hair and practically grinds his dick into your face, you don’t. As demanding as it is you can’t help but acquiesce. You mouth at him through the fabric, and by the time he’s begging you again there’s a prominent wet spot on his underwear from where you sucked. When at last you begin to pull them down he looks at you, watching intently with flushed cheeks as he’s fully exposed to you.

Standing, you undress yourself, making a little show of it when you notice him staring. The moment you finish you’re back on him, just as needy as he is when your bare cock brushes up against his; his shoulders shake at the contact, and he falls back onto the floor, his eyes shut tight. To soothe the ache you kiss him, as tender as it was when you first kissed, and he finally lets out an anxious breath when you part.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmur, running your hand slowly down his chest till you reach his waist, your fingers just barely curling around him and pumping slower than what he deems should be possible.

“I just need you, anything, please,” he replies, breathy and still as wanting as ever.

“God, you really like begging for me, don’t you?” You tease, smirking when he just whines as you speed up your pace. With a kiss to his neck you whisper in his ear, “I love hearing you moan, though.”

“Then make me moan,” he says thoughtlessly, regretting his words when you smirk and move down his body. Regret is the last thing on his mind however, once you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, sucking and practically drooling as you pump him.

“You taste wonderful,” you hum, attempting to take him deeper.

As experienced as you are it’s chiefly with girls (even if you aren’t as attracted to them, it’s just easier to pretend like you are), and this would technically be the first time you’ve sucked dick. It’s a lot harder than girls make it seem, you note to yourself, but try to take him deeper anyway. A long whine tumbles from his lips when you both realize you don’t have a very strong gag reflex and take him to the hilt, sucking and still roaming the expanse of his thin waist with your hands. He’s close, you can feel him twitch in your mouth, paired with the precum dripping off him and into you, but he yanks you away by your hair and pulls you up for another passionate kiss.

“What about you?” He asks, panting, and you almost laugh again - it’s so odd for someone to ask about you first.

“The sight of you like this is enough for me,” you assure him, laying wet kisses that have his eyes fluttering into the back of his head down his neck and onto his shoulder.

As you continue pumping him, focusing the majority of your energy on sucking a hickey into his skin, you hardly notice yourself grinding against him. In fact you only realize you’re doing it when his legs wrap around your hips, pulling you in till your cocks are slotted next to each other, both achingly hard. The intensity of it has both of you coming soon after, the imprint of your nails a semi-permanent fixture on Kenny’s hips, paired well with the blossoming hickey on his clavicle. He’s not the only one marked up by the end, though - angry red streaks line your back from his scratching, and you only notice when you collapse on your back beside him.

“Would you happen to have a rag?” He asks, both of you breaking into giggles soon after.

“I’ll go get paper towels,” you offer, reaching for your underwear before realizing you need to clean up before putting on clothes. Instead you peck his forehead, leaving him smiling as you leave the room.

Eventually you’re both cleaned up, clothes on, and the trench coat is covering the both of you, cuddled tight in the back room of 7-Eleven. When the story gets out, as all stories do at some point, there’s a lot of varying accounts on what happened in the night. The most popular, and probably your least favorite, was that you terrorized him the entire night, and though most people don’t believe it considering how close you and Kenny act, it’s still the most popular. Another theory was that you introduced him to drinking and you stayed up with him all night, drunk out of your minds; you don’t mind that story as much, but he does, so you try to tell people that isn’t what happened.

He does ask at one point if he’s allowed to talk about your relationship, and your answer is an ardent yes, which surprises him. You adore every part of him, and you find no shame in that, even if he thinks you should. Sure, you do get bullied a lot more, but it’s nothing brass knuckles don’t sort out quickly.

It’s an odd pairing, you acknowledge that. Punk doesn’t usually go well with sweetheart nerd, but it works surprisingly well, and for that you’re endlessly grateful. In-between classes you run by his locker even though you’re on separate sides of the school, always kissing him before each class. Your little expeditions leave you late to every class but English, and by the end of the year all your teachers hate you as usual with the exception of Mr. Davis.

“You concentrate a lot better these days. Did my talk help you out any?” He asks after class one summer day. Kenny is waiting outside the class, so you try to find a quick answer.

“Well… a little. I talked to Kenny at least,” you answer with a smile, bidding him a kinder good-bye than you usually give your teachers, saluting him as you close the door.

“Everything alright?” Kenny asks, walking shoulder to shoulder with you down the empty halls of the school.

“Everything’s perfect, sugar,” you answer, your arm hanging around his shoulders.

#kenny al bahir x reader #kenny al bahir #war at home #rami malek x reader #rami malek #male reader

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lucidescuella · 4 years

Text

mellifluous ; javier escuella

first time writing with an OC and i’m really happy with this!! i want to make this an ongoing thing too ☺ i might of made this a little self-indulgent lmao

word count: 1,778

Aurora had always enjoyed the outdoors. There was something so soothing about the smell of fresh grass and the harmony of wildlife around her. She blames her mother for her love of nature due to the fact that their cabin was so small, so all she could do was play outside, but she truthfully didn’t mind. She remembers how she and her older sisters, Amélie and Violet, would run around the grassy fields until they collapsed from exhaustion, usually followed by a fit of giggles.

Oh, how she missed that old cabin. It was practically falling apart, but her mother had tried her utmost to make it into a home. That old vase that had been in their family for generations was filled with a new set of flowers every week, resting on the middle of the table. Her mother had a consummate hobby of embroidery that she constantly used to decorate. They didn’t have much, but they had each other. At least, for the time being.

Presently, she’s surrounded by a group of people who Aurora is unfamiliar with, a mix of gazes full of pity and hushed whispers behind her back. She had taken a liking to Mary-Beth and Tilly, who reminded her of her sisters. Karen was a lot to deal with, but not particularly unkind. The men in the camp seemed to avoid her, as she did to them, though she was sure for different reasons. They appeared to be the type to steer clear of comforting someone, most likely because of the awkwardness, while Aurora avoided them because she never really had experiences with men in her life. Though, Hosea was an exception, a warmth in the swarm of cold that she experienced in the past few weeks.

When a group of men displayed in black hats rode into her line of sight, Aurora had already had a feeling of dread aching through her entire body. She remembered wondering who the hell could these guys be? No one had ever come onto their hidden land of property before. Calling for her mother and immediately grabbing Violet’s hand, everything after that was a cloudy blur of yelling and gunshots that led up to desperately grasping her limp mother close to her chest, witnessing the light draining from her eyes. She remembered the heavy guilt on her shoulders as she watched her sisters get thrown on the back of a horse, riding off in the distance. She knew what those kinds of men did to girls.

She was an absolute mess when a man named Arthur found her on a trail on the outskirts of Valentine, covered in blood and dried tears.

Now, she feels weight on her as she runs her fingers through the grass of Horseshoe Overlook, though a part of her is content with the memories playing through her head. The sunrise had just ended, the mix of pinks and oranges fading out to a faint blue. The sound of people starting to wake up and beginning their day overwhelmed Aurora, but she sat still on her spot on the edge of the cliff, shuffling random rocks beneath her. After a while, Tilly had come down to the shore and began to wash clothes, “Hi there, Aurora. Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not, Tilly.”

Tilly sat on the ground next to her and sighed softly, “It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I don’t think we’ve ever been worked this hard by Miss Grimshaw. She starts to yell when I just sit down.”

“Yeah, she seems very...intense.” In all honesty, Aurora was terrified of her and tried to avoid her at all costs. It seemed like anything could and would set her off, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Tilly.

“That’s one word to describe her.”

Footsteps sounded behind the girls, both turning their heads in slight fear thinking that Miss Grimshaw had overheard and was coming to confront them about it, but they were relieved to see Javier Escuella with a mug of coffee in his hand and a soft smile on his face, “Miss Jackson, Miss Everett. How are you ladies doing today?”

Tilly returned the smile, “We’re just fine, Mister Escuella. Got any plans for today?”

“Oh, you know, rob a stagecoach, get some leads. Try to keep busy.”

“Same old, same old.”

Javier chuckled and nodded, turning his head to Aurora who was interested in the ground all of a sudden. She felt like she was intruding on a conversation between two obvious friends, and frankly she just felt that she wasn’t wanted there by most. Little did she know that Javier was intrigued in the mystery that was Aurora Everett. As soon as he caught sight of her striking red, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes that held a substantial amount of pain, he knew that he had to get to know her more. The whole gang had known what had happened to her and had taken some sort of pity on her, though that didn’t get in the way of them making it clear that if she wanted to stay, she would need to do some type of work to earn her keep.

She had understood, but that didn’t stop her from dreading it.

Javier could see that the girl was feeling closed off from the group and decided to take action. After all, when he first joined the group, Dutch did everything he could do to make him feel welcome. “Miss Everett? Since Sean has been rescued, we’re throwing a little party tonight in celebration. Maybe you’d want to join us.”

Aurora felt a little scared of the spotlight put on her, but she pushed it down as best to her abilities, “Uh, what do you do at these kinds of parties?”

“We drink a little, sing songs. It’s not a huge thing, but it’s a lot of fun.”

“I-...sure. I’ll join...”

“Great! Can’t wait. I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Tilly waved a goodbye at the man before smiling at Aurora, “I can’t wait for tonight! Maybe you’ll even feel up to singing a song of your own.”

Though she knew that Tilly was teasing her, her heartbeat picked up, “O-oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m ready for all of that.”

“Oh, of course. We can just lie low, if you want. I would avoid Karen if you want to do that, though.”

By the time night rolled around, Aurora was done with the list of chores given to her by Mary-Beth. She was exhausted and really didn’t feel up to a party anyway, but she figured that she was going to be around these people for a while, and needed to make good trust with them. Maybe that trust will start with this party. Dutch’s gramophone was blasting through the camp just before the party started, and while she enjoyed the reminded memory of her very own gramophone back home, she didn’t favor the choice of opera that Dutch seemed to like.

Finally people started to gather, and she sat with a woman named Sadie Adler who was also rescued by the gang. As horrible as it sounds, she was almost relieved to have someone who could relate to her, to not feel alone. She really couldn’t tell if Sadie appreciated her there or not, but she didn’t say anything, so she assumed it was alright. Aurora had heard from Abigail that her husband died at the hands of a group called the O'Driscolls, known for their violent actions against, well, everyone. Part of her suspected that this was the group who was responsible for the death of her mother and the taking of her sisters, but she refrained from asking questions, more so because she didn’t know if she could get through the story without breaking down completely.

Javier had seen her sit away from the group, clearly wanting to keep a distance. He wasn’t going to force her to join everyone, who was a little more rowdy tonight due to the fact that this was their first celebration in awhile, but he did want to try to get her to open up more. He bid a goodbye to the men gathered around the campfire and grabbed his guitar, searching for the girl he was, for some reason, interested in. He thinks it’s something about the way she appeared almost like a ghost. Where Sadie Adler slowly mourned the loss of her husband, Aurora efficiently worked the day along and kept to herself, usually with a blank look on her face. Almost like she wasn’t there.

He took a seat next to her on the outer part of camp. She jumped a bit when she was abruptly knocked out of her train of thought, Javier holding out a hand to try to calm her down, “Lo siento, querida. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The redhead sighed in alleviation, “No, it’s fine. My fault.”

Javier jerked his head to the side, displaying confusion, “How is that your fault?”

“I don’t know. I zone out a lot.”

“Well, that’s hardly your fault, querida. I noticed you weren’t at the party, any reason why?”

Oh, god. Aurora thought. They’re going to think that I’m distant and untrustworthy, if they don’t think that already.

“Um, yeah. Sorry, I just really didn’t feel up to it, I guess.”

Javier nodded, and brought up his guitar to rest in his lap. He glanced at her and found her already looking at him, quickly breaking the gaze, settling it on the sight of her fidgeting with her hands. A warmth crept into his chest, a soft smile visible on his face, “If it’s alright, I would like to play here. I could do without the drunk payasos around.”

“Yeah, that’s alright.”

And with the sound of a mix of people slurring drunkenly and some heading off to bed, it all faded with the soft strumming of Javier’s guitar. An unknown melody had flooded her ears and she hesitantly snuck a look at him, contentment seeming into her veins. She hadn’t felt that in what seemed like an eternity. He had felt the stare of the girl and glanced up, meeting her gaze, and throwing a small smirk at her.

While Aurora had a long way to go to feel okay again, she couldn’t deny the comfort she felt with the man next to her.

lo siento, querida: i’m sorry, darling

querida: darling

payasos: clowns (male)

i used google translate like an idiot, so please tell me if you notice anything inaccurate!!

#rdr2 #rdr x reader #rdr2 edit #rdr2 fanart #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x oc #rdr x oc #rdr #javier escuella #javier escuella imagine #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x oc #red dead redemption 2 #rdredit #red dead online #red dead redemption

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glovesaved · 4 years

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( jack gilinsky , cis male , he / him, 22 ) no way ! i swear i saw 𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 walking down danforth avenue ! i just saw a post about them on 6secrets ! i think it said something like “ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ”. isn’t that wild ? i guess that makes sense since they’re apparently 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 and 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆. fans will claim that they’re 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 and 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓. i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄 . whenever i think of them, i think of 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆, & 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 . i wish i would have asked for an autograph ! ( ollie, they / them, 22, est ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

— nolan’s childhood is fairly normal. born to middle class parents in calgary, skating and playing hockey from a young age. he never had to struggle much in his life, save for his parents’ separation when he was twelve, but even that ended well enough. he was always good at reading people, and though it stung at first, he understood.

— he started his hockey career as a forward, until one of his youth teams lacked a goalie when one of his teammates moved away and nolan volunteered himself to fill the spot. ever since that moment he was in love with the position.

— and the truth was though he was a good forward, he was an even better goalie. with reflexes like a cat, observational skills off the charts, he soon settled into net like he belonged there ( and soon, people were saying nothing else ).

— he was drafted to the everette silvertips in the whl when he was 16 where he continued to blossom and grow, setting franchise and league records including a shutout in his first career start and being named chl goalie of the year. and when his draft year in 2016 came, he was taken in the second round by the toronto maple leafs.

— he returned to everette for two more seasons. in 2017-18 collecting the accolades of whl player of the year, whl goalie of the year, and chl goalie of the year ( for the second time, being the first in chl to do so ). he finished with a 116-46-19 record, 2.01 GAA, 0.927 sv%, and 26 shutouts ( tied for most in chl history ).

— he started the next season with the toronto marlies, his next step in development. however, he was unexpectedly called up in december after one of the leafs goalies was placed on injured reserved. to his surprised, they decided to play him in the very next game which he won, becoming the youngest goaltender in over a decade to win his debut and the youngest in leafs history. he proceeded to record four straight wins before the age of 21, the first goalie to do so in over a decade. he was never sent back down to the marlies.

— the next season ( this past one ), saw him become the youngest in leafs history to record a shutout and slowly begin to claim his place as starter by march. he was pivotal in the leafs playoff run, though they were ultimately eliminated in the first round by boston to the surprise of no one.

— he spent much of the off-season in calgary with his family and doing off-season training there, though he recently returned in mid-august to prepare of the upcoming season.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂:

— his role on the ice is incredibly high pressure no doubt, but he finds facing the toronto media far more intimidating. toronto is a city that cares very deeply for its team and though that is a good thing, it’s easy to feel stifled and under a microscope under all the scrutiny.

— has two gold ( 2015 18u, 2018 world juniors ) and two silver medals ( 2017 world juniors, 2019 worlds ), all for team canada

— “they see him, get lost in his beautiful eyes and forget how to play hockey.” since nolan has carter’s career claim, i’m claiming this conspiracy for him too ( basically, carter faced two fluke shoot out attempts : one where the player completely missed picking up that puck at center ice and another that lost it halfway to the net — both very very rare things to happen at the nhl level )

— jewish

— 6′2″. dark brown hair, light brown eyes. doesn’t smile an awful lot, but when he does and does genuinely you get the sense akin to the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

— i should put more here but honestly i’m figuring him out as i go

— oh that “mystery girl” in his headline is probs like a cousin or something aha

— should also mention he is bi on dl

— considered a bit of an enigma considering how little people know about him

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘:

— on the ice, nolan is the picture perfect image of focus, dark eyes and a look that could murder if anyone gets too close to him. and for a long time, who he was on the ice and who he was off it weren’t the same thing, but over time those lines began to blur and more and more he was dragging who he was on the ice off it too. the result was an increasingly withdrawn boy which only became worse when his prospect rankings began to rise and his looks only got more handsome. he retreated into the most familiar emotional armor he knew : the one he wore on the ice.

— he’s deeply private, hating to share much of his personal life though he does maintain an instagram on which he occasionally takes pleasure in posting cryptic photos just to confuse people.

— nolan is someone who requires a lot to get to him. he can keep a calm demeanor for an incredibly long time before he cracks, not surprising for someone who holds a position as stressful as his.

— despite his more withdrawn and quiet tendencies, he’s not exactly an asshole. he interacts with his fans courteously enough and doesn’t go out of his way to make anyone else’s life tougher. that being said, a lifetime in goal and as of late plenty of time off it has perfected a damn good death glare that he will use to keep people from talking to him if he has to.

— a man of few words, it’s rare to really get nolan chatty. only his closest friends and teammates succeed at this, otherwise small talk and frivolity often will result in silence. but nolan speaks plenty in actions, certainly someone who places a lot more value in a smile or kind gesture than any verbal expression.

— he’s not nearly as tough as his cagey eyes and stoic exterior would suggest, at heart perhaps a lonely boy who’s thrown up so many walls that he finds it difficult to truly connect with anyone.

𝐎𝐎𝐂:

hello friends... anyone remember noah from six 1.0 ?? well, i basically just made another goalie with carter ha/rt’s career claim 😔😔😔. anyway, i still hate the leafs and i hope six-verse leafs have a better defense than irl leafs, if not then my boy truly has the patience of a saint.

#sixhqintro #this is so bad i'm sorry #the best thing abt this intro #is definitely the header #and that's only bc jack is looking real softe in that photo #and if i called him jason at any point in thsi intro....#pls looke the other way thanks

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dspacefear · 4 years

Text

Meeting at Ris, Chapter 1

You can also read this on Wattpad. There’s also a prologue there, if you’re into that kind of thing. You can also hit up my inbox and tell me what other places I can post this kind of thing.

Ideally, writing more of this will take me less time than it took to write this chapter.

----

Captain Amelia Everett sat in her quarters on the UNRS Cordell, in orbit around the planet Ris. The first planet named by aliens. The Cordell was a unique ship, designed to stay in orbit around a single planet, monitoring transmissions and taking images of the planet below. It could even dispatch drones into the upper atmosphere for taking more detailed photos, though the use of the drones had only been approved recently.

The report, from communications officer Francine Berger, was on responses to the second aerial drone mission. The news was good, in that there was no news. Nothing they'd been monitoring mentioned the craft at all. It was still possible that it had been seen, of course, but hopefully a small number of people sighting a UFO would be taken the same way it was on Earth during the twentieth century. It wouldn't be a problem when they eventually made contact. Which they'd get to do. That's what Everett told herself.

The flight itself had been quite fruitful, in terms of photography and video. The data would be useful to the xenobiologist, Pavel Kuznetsov, and when the next supply ship arrived, a copy could be sent back to Earth. The supply ship would be arriving in a few days, carrying letters and orders from home, supplies for the ship and crew, and reports and letters from the crew back to Earth and the colonies. The life on Ris would probably still require a whole new set of classifications. Every world had its own ecosystems, unique from any other's.

Everett's thoughts were then interrupted by a trio of sharp bangs.

She immediately called Engineering. "Engineering, this is the captain. What was that sound?"

A short wait. No response. She asked again. "Engineering, report. What's happened to the ship?"

Finally, the voice of the chief engineer, Maria Tran, came back over the intercom. "Something hit us, Cap. Small, but moving fast, ripped through the ship. Engineering strut got hit, possibly others. Sally's been hit in the leg. I called Doctor Brecher, he's on the way."

"Make sure she'll be okay first. Figure out what kind of damage we've taken. Call me at the bridge then. Everett out." Everett switched the intercom off, grabbed her tablet, and rushed out of her room.

----

In the Engineering strut, Tran turned back to her two engineers. Henry Micallef was kneeling over Sally Parker, pressing a cloth into the wound on her leg. She said to them, "Captain called. She knows we're holed, once we're sorted here she'll probably call me up to the bridge."

Micallef didn't even look up, and Tran didn't bother to see if he did, already grabbing the hull patch kit off the wall. Finding the hole and applying the temporary patch was short work with the kit. A pressure difference of one atmosphere through such a small hole wasn't nearly enough to cause any serious risk beyond slowly losing air, fortunately, and she had managed to seal the hull before too much was lost.

Checking her tablet, there were a few other issues on the ship - loss of pressure in a storage room, the same in Central Engineering, and loss of power to the warp drive. Whatever they'd had the misfortune to pass through did a real number on the ship. As Tran rushed out to check on the other rooms that had been hit, she passed by Doctor Brecher and Nurse Oyana, rushing in.

----

Everett arrived on the bridge to questions from all three people there, the astrogator, pilot, and comms officer.

"What was that noise?"

"Is the ship damaged?"

"Are we in trouble here?"

Everett answered all of them at once, "We got hit by something. Micrometeor, probably. Maria's assessing the damage, but Sally's hurt. We'll figure out how bad everything is, and worst case... we're right above a habitable world, and the ship's designed to splash down there if we need it to."

"Captain." It was Tulsidas Kamath, the astrogator. "I have to tell you that we're not supposed to make contact."

"I know that. We're preparing for the worst and hoping we won't need it. Emergency prep. I'd rather we make contact than all of us die. Speaking of which, talk to Horne and Boral, figure out a good place for a water landing. Near someone who's likely to be friendly."

"I'll get right on it, Captain." Kamath immediately turned back to his boards, paging for the xenosociologists.

----

The research strut was already in the middle of emergency prep when Kamath's call came through. One of the xenolinguists, Dr. Susanto, picked up. "Xenoscience. We're already in prep, Bridge."

"That's fine. Captain wants the xenosocs up here to help find a place to land if we need to," Kamath replied.

"Are you sure? I don't know if Fan will like the idea of making contact."

"Then he can come up here and argue with the Captain himself. Just make sure he brings Horne and Boral with him."

"Fine." Susanto turned around in her seat. "Dr. Fan? Kamath called from the bridge, he says Everett wants Boral and Horne up there to talk about landing sites."

Dr. Fan Shuren, Head of Research on the Cordell, rushed over. "What the hell is she thinking? We can't make contact."

"I think it's more of an emergency thing than a contact thing."

Fan rubbed his temples. "Tell the bridge that what we need is to have an actual, in-person meeting once we know the state of the ship. Her, Tran, myself, Horne, and Boral."

Susanto turned back to the console. "Alright, Bridge, Fan says-"

"Yeah, I heard," Kamath interrupted. "If Fan wants to wait until Engineering has a report to start working on any plans, then that's his call, but the Captain won't be happy."

----

Half an hour later, Tran walked onto the bridge, significantly more exhausted than before the impacts, and sat down at what was a long table by the cramped standards of spaceships. The full bridge crew was there, along with Fan and the two xenosociologists. She looked around the room at everyone. "Alright, here's how it is," she said. "We're hurt bad. Engineering was the only strut to take a hit, but the central section took a few bad ones. The warp drive is out, so we're stuck here. Atmospherics got hit, and the central scrubbers are shot. Central storage also got hit, so we don't have any replacements for the scrubbers, and a lot of other equipment got lost, too."

The room was quiet. This was about as bad as things could get without the ship just being torn apart. For a few seconds, everyone sat still as the news sunk in. Everett was the first to speak up. "How long have we got, and what can we do in that timeframe?"

"Quick guesstimate? Ten hours. Ten and a half, maybe. Then however long our supply of internals and EVA gear would last. That'd give us maybe three more hours if the whole crew was on them," Tran answered. "As for what we can do... for repairs, there's not much that would let us stay up here. We can make an emergency landing, after we finish properly patching the external hull and shut down the reactor. Henry and I can manage that job. I don't know how we'd do on the planet, but it's probably better than choking to death up here."

"You understand that actually making contact with the reneten would mean incredible trouble for us when we're rescued, if the others even decide to rescue us," Fan said. "And that's if we live. If we don't, then we've dropped an alien spaceship on their planet and any cultural contamination from that is for nothing."

Everett held a hand out to stop him. "It's my responsibility, and the trouble will be for me. If the only way to keep everyone alive is to land, then that's what we're going to do. If we make it through the landing, we're going to need help if we want to live. I can't order you or any of the other researchers to do anything, but the operations crew is going to be doing our best to keep everyone alive, and I'd appreciate it if you cooperated."

Fan sighed. "I'm not seriously suggesting that we die up here. I guess. I just want to make sure everyone knows what we're getting into."

Tran slammed the table. "You guess? You guess that it's a good idea not to suffocate?"

Fan stood up. "Look. I have reservations about opening up contact. The spacefaring nations are going to pounce on this planet if they think they can get away with it, and if we crash and they send a rescue mission it ends the contact debate."

Tran stood up to match him. "I didn't come out here to die because it would make Earth face some inconvenient questions if I didn't. It won't make any difference if they make contact now or in a year, it'll be the same people doing the same thing."

"Both of you, sit down." Everett was calm, but firm. "We have emergency protocols. The ship is too badly damaged to stay in orbit safely, so Engineering will do what they can so we can make a water landing. We call for help and we try to make sure the people who find us are friendly. It's hardly an ideal way to make planetfall or first contact, but we either make it work or we die.

Tran, if that's the full damage report, then we're short on time. Can you make sure the ship is capable of atmospheric entry quickly enough?"

When it came to the ship, Tran was much calmer. "The final hull fix won't be any trouble, even with only two of us. We don't have any major structural issues, so it'll only be a couple hours at most to make sure we're ready to hit atmo."

Everett nodded. "Good. You should start now. We'll work out where we're going to put down and what we're going to send as an SOS in the meantime."

Tran stood. "Alright. I'll report back as soon as we're ready." With that, she left the bridge.

"So," said Everett. "We've got an entire planet to choose from, but I think it's best if we start with language. The most common language in broadcasts we've picked up has been Sitan, and that's what the operations crew is most familiar with from the programs that we've been viewing. What's the situation with understanding other languages on your end?"

Fan signaled to Horne, who pressed a couple buttons on the side of the table, bringing up a map of the planet below. "Sitan is the most understood language, but we're still a long way off from even a remotely complete dictionary. I doubt we'd qualify as fluent, but we should be able to communicate well enough to tell them we're peaceful and ask for help," Fan said.

Everett nodded. "Alright then, who do we ask for help that speaks that language? I know that our maps of their countries aren't exactly complete, but we have some idea, right?"

Horne pressed a couple other buttons, and the map changed, overlaying borders. "We've got a decent idea from news broadcasts we've analyzed, but it's not perfect, especially in a few parts of the world," he said, indicating a couple areas where there were either no borders or ones marked as unclear. "We're not entirely clear on the political systems in some areas, but they're definitely not all the same as human states, anyways."

"So what's that actually mean for our choice of a landing site?" Everett asked.

"Well, uh, the parts we don't have clear maps on aren't that important, I guess," Horne replied sheepishly. "In terms of who we should get picked up by, most of the northwest continent there, called Utsim, mostly speaks Sitan or a closely related language, and they all use the same alphabetical writing system as far as we can tell. The channel along the southern side there, which they call the Belt" as Horne pointed to a feature on the map, " has Sitan as the most common language on both sides, though there's a lot of others on the southern side."

"Alright then, what about political concerns?" Everett asked. "I don't expect an encyclopedic knowledge of the situation down there, but I'd rather make first contact with someone who's likely to be friendly to us."

The scientists exchanged looks briefly. "I'm afraid we don't have much that we can rely on to be objective," Fan replied. "Our best bet is the large nation along the northern end of the Belt, Sita. They speak the right language, obviously. They seem close enough to our idea of a democracy, but we have precious little information about the details. If you want someone palatable, they're a good choice. We can probably land in the Belt near one of their cities and get picked up."

Everett leaned back in her chair slightly, considering. "Well, it doesn't guarantee they won't black-bag us and take us to a lab. But if they're smart, they'll probably understand that's a bad look for when someone comes looking for us. Culturally, do you think they'd take us well?"

Boral spoke up. "We're shooting in the dark here, and honestly, trying to make cultural judgements like that is an iffy thing with human cultures where we actually have complete information. I'm not going to guess at it based on kids' shows and the five o'clock news, and neither should any of us."

"Fine," Everett sighed. "It's just a lot of uncertainty. Too much that we don't know, too many guesses and hopefullys. Going with Sita for the people we're aiming for, what's our actual landing site? There's a few big cities along the northern shore of the Belt, I've seen this planet enough at night to know that. It's close enough to the equator for us to get there even at a limp. Which one of those is best for us to aim to splash down near?"

"I'm not sure we should come down too close to any of them," Fan said. "We don't know how closely they watch the skies, and the last thing we want is to cause panic if they pick us up on radar and think we're headed for the city itself."

Kamath, the astrogator, interrupted at that. "I wouldn't dare put us that close to any of them anyways. This ship might technically be capable of an emergency landing in water, but it won't be an easy flight, so wherever we choose I'm giving us enough room for a lot of error."

"I'm not sure if you need to be that cautious about my flying, Ryan," said Kim Park, the ship's pilot, "but I'll give you that it's not exactly going to be a smooth trip through the atmosphere. Better safe than sorry."

"Alright, all of you." Everett switched the map to a view of the planet at night, then circled three particularly bright clusters of light along the Sitan shore of the Belt. "Let's take these three areas. I'm pretty sure all of them have more than one city in the area, but which one we end up in might be down to luck even if we do make contact on friendly terms. Does it particularly matter which one we head for? Coming down near the capital might be nice, if their capital is on that shore, if only so we can hopefully get out ahead of some of the political issues."

"The capital is inland, but the largest city is Seo Tist, a port along the coast here," Boral said, pointing to the largest of the clusters of light. "There's other cities in the area, of course, so there's no guarantee we'll be towed into Seo Tist itself, but if you want to go big, that's where to go."

Everett nodded. "Alright. Kamath, Park, plot the descent. One person will have to check with them to make sure that there's nothing that will make us look like a threat on the way down. Someone else is going to have to work with Berger and I and figure out the distress broadcast and what we'll say when we finally get picked up. We'll start the broadcast when we're in the atmosphere. Unless anyone has any questions, I think we're ready to break up and get to work."

"I do, actually." It was Fan again. "How do we deal with them once we land? What do we tell them? What do we try to hide?" Everett paused for a moment. "I think our best policy is to just be honest with them. Tell them what we know if they ask, tell them anything we think would be helpful. There's no point in lying. We won't be able to keep all our stories straight, so it'll just destroy any trust." "Are you worried about cultural contamination?" Fan asked.

"Or giving away anything important?" added Boral.

Everett made a dismissive sound. "Contamination is done damage just by landing. And as for anything important, what are they going to do? They don't even have anything in orbit, let alone the ability to get out of their system. Besides, they need every bit of information they can get. If this goes well, then we won't regret telling them anything. If it goes badly, they'll need to know as much as they can if they don't want to get flattened."

Fan raised an eyebrow.

"Believe it or not, I actually don't want them to get flattened," Everett said. "I'd like to think we're better than that. But I want them as prepared as possible if we're not. So, every reason I can think of tells me to just be honest with them."

"Reasonable. We'll go with telling them what they want, within reason, then. I'll tell Research, you tell Ops. If that's all..." Fan glanced around. Nobody said anything. "If that's all, then I think we're ready?"

"Let's go, then." Everett stood up, followed by everyone else.

----

During preparations, Tran made time to call the medical bay.

"Brecher here. I'm guessing you're calling about Sally, Engineering?"

"Yeah, it's Maria calling from over here. How is she, doc?" "She's unconscious, but she's stable. Her leg is broken, and there's not a whole lot we can do except let her rest and heal."

"You think she'll be okay when we land?"

"If the landing isn't too rough, she'll be fine. I don't know what kind of hospitals they'll have down there, but there's not a whole lot that she needs right now except time."

"Alright. Thanks. I'll get back to work over here." Tran hung up, taking a moment before she went back to preparation. Since the ship got hit, things had been moving quickly enough that she hadn't really had time to think about much beyond how they were going to survive. Ordinarily, getting to make first contact would be exciting. But throwing themselves onto the mercy of the reneten, with no way of knowing if anyone would even come for them, no way of knowing when or even if they'd get home? It was terrifying. Tran took a deep breath. The only thing left to do was work. If she was working, she wasn't worrying.

----

Four and a half hours later, the crew of the Cordell was as ready as they could ever be for an emergency landing on a planet inhabited by strange, intelligent life. While the remaining engineers patched the hull, the bridge and research crew planned their flight path and broadcasts. The crew prepared the ship for atmospheric entry, securing loose objects and double-checking safety measures.

On the bridge, everyone was buckled into their seats. Captain Everett switched on the com on her seat, calling the other sections of the ship one by one. "Research, status?"

"Secured for maneuver," Fan replied.

"Engineering, status?"

"Ready for entry," Tran's voice came back.

"Medical, status?"

"Strapped in over here. Try not to be too rough." Brecher said.

"We're beginning maneuvers, then. Helm, stop rotation and bring the struts in. Bring us down when you're ready."

Park adjusted the controls, and the ship's rotation slowed. Once it reached a stop, she threw a lever and the struts' position was unlocked, allowing a small rocket on each strut to fire for a brief moment, slowly swinging them and everyone in them inwards to the core of the ship. Once they hit the center, with an audible thump, locks along the ship activated and shields extended over vulnerable mechanical components. With the three arms secured to the body, the ship could maneuver.

Another adjustment of the controls, and the ship slowly aligned itself properly. Park waited for a few moments, until the ship was at the point that Kamath's calculations marked for her. She fired the engines, and the ship lost velocity quickly, putting it on a path to land on Ris.

As the ship hit the atmosphere, a low rumbling sounded throughout the vessel. While a slightly more controlled entry than some were in the days of old, it was still rough on the ship and the crew. The forces on the ship were incredible during its descent. The ship held together, but even if she made it to the planet and stayed afloat on the sea, the Cordell certainly could not handle this kind of stress again.

The crew fared better, but not by much. Though the ship was technically capable of making the emergency landing, it was not a smooth ride by any means, not helped by the damage sustained. Even strapped in, a fair number of the crew was going to walk away with a couple bruises.

Brecher called the bridge, asking, "How much longer are we going to have to sit here? I don't want to leave Sally for too long after getting shaken around like this."

Park switched her mic on, answering him, "Fourteen minutes to splashdown. Broadcasts start in two. I'm doing my best."

"I know." Brecher closed the channel. Glancing at Parker's vitals, they were holding steady, and there was no sign of injury, external or internal. This was far riskier than he'd like, but so far, she wasn't in any serious danger.

Once the ship had slowed enough that transmissions could get through, Berger started the distress signal. It was a simple, repeating message on a radio band commonly used for emergencies on Ris. The message was, "We are a small craft making an emergency water landing, expected position approximately 80 atsoor south-southwest of Seo Tist. We have injured onboard and need immediate assistance."

The turbulence only got worse as the ship descended. The ship shook terribly, slowly losing speed to friction. Park kept his eyes on the plotted trajectory, keeping the ship on the proper path, and Kamath kept his on the altitude, waiting to tell Park when to deploy chutes and brakes. A few tense minutes passed before Kamath said "Hit the brakes." The ship jerked as Park deployed the drogue chute and airbrakes, pressing the occupants against their restraints.

Everett stared into the middle distance as they got closer to splashdown, running things over in her head. She was excited about finally making contact, but guilty about that excitement; it wasn't exactly an ideal situation, and there were some in the crew, like Tran, who were going to have a very hard time. Not to mention that Parker was injured, and there was no guarantee that they would even get a response out of the rest of humanity. Still, Everett put that to the side for the moment. She needed a plan for those first moments of first contact.

Hopefully they would be picked up quickly. Assuming they were, if it was some kind of reneten equivalent of a coast guard, they would have a good chance of being taken directly to some authority. A civilian vessel might take a bit longer, but there was no way that the planet's authorities, all of them, wouldn't take interest in actual space aliens in a starship. A real risk was getting picked up by someone who wasn't either Sitan or friendly enough. A small risk, with where they were coming down, but still a risk.

The moments of first contact would start simple and rapidly become much more complicated. Get their attention, tell them we're not here to invade, and get a ride to shore. It sounded simple, but there would definitely be a lot of talking to do to convince whoever found them that the whole thing was actually what it looked like. Once they got there... if they could get the ship towed in quickly, assuming it stayed afloat, it would make their lives a lot easier. If not, then contacting their supply ship became more complicated. That was a matter for the engineers to figure out, at least.

Any talking beyond that would just have to be figured out once they knew what they were even dealing with.

Park switched an intercom on, broadcasting to the whole ship. "Splashdown in one minute. All hands brace." Across the ship, everyone took a deep breath, waiting out the last few moments before landing. The ship hit the water with a mighty roar, the deceleration pressing everyone into their restraints again. The force was far harsher than the earlier braking in the atmosphere.

Once the ship had slowed, Everett unfastened herself, taking a couple experimental steps under Risian gravity before calling the rest of the ship. The crew set up watches outside, keeping an eye out for any ships nearby, and changed the distress signal to indicate that they were on the water.

After a couple hours, a ship appeared on the horizon, coming towards them. It was quickly flagged down, and Everett, Fan, and Susanto stood outside the airlock to meet the incoming rescue. The ship looked like it might have been some kind of cutter or corvette, a smallish craft flying the Sitan flag. As the ship got closer, the deck got more and more crowded, word spreading through the reneten crew that something very, very strange was happening. By the time it arrived, nearly the entire crew was staring at the three humans and the strange vessel they'd apparently arrived in.

Everett shouted to the reneten, in her best Sitan,

"Hello! We come in peace."

#scifi #original story #science fiction #first contact #meeting at ris #honestly this shit has been in the works for so long I genuinely don't remember some of the plans and will have to dig through my notebooks #I am a fool who cannot manage time

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dukemassetti · 4 years

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@evcravens said: u know... Wildcard babey just remember you did this to yourself...................

Orion is 25 years old and thinks he’s a golden fucking god. Maybe he is. He hasn’t slept a night alone since he moved to Paris, and the most work he has to do is a few meetings and lessons before setting up somewhere and drawing, painting, hell, even sculpting. In a city like this, none of it seems odd; even the chain smoking fits. He’s enjoying that now, window open to the breeze and two people having shuffled out not five minutes previous, when a knock sounds so loudly on the door that it could be la police.

He stamps the cigarette out in the ashtray on the sill and moves, not with any urgency despite the pounding starting again. Robe, robe, where is — ah, yes, he pulls the blue silk over his shoulders and knots it well enough to be decent. Running a hand through his hair, still wet from the shower, he sighs and considers that’s the best the stronzo outside will get. Split level penthouses just can’t offer the same security as one level and your own security key in the elevator.

He takes a moment to roll his eyes at the lack of a peephole on the door before he opens it, wide enough to stand there, blinking, at the confusion before him. He opens his mouth to say something, because what, but Everett Craven, young CEO extraordinaire and 30 under 30 media darling, beats him to the punch. ❝ Would you please — ❞ he starts in frustrated Italian before remembering where he is and course correcting. Should Orion tell him he is Italian? Maybe, but it’s funnier to watch him struggle through nascent French. ❝ You stop. ❞ He finally manages to get out. Orion raises a brow.

❝ That’s the best you’ve got ? ❞ he asks in rapid French, shaking his head. ❝ Abysmal, ❞ he continues in Italian. ❝ Seriously, if I were Parisian I’d have you thrown out for that. Of the country, I mean. ❞

Craven stands befuddled for a moment, as if the thought of another man in Paris speaking Italian was simply unheard of. Orion takes the moment to study him. He’s remarkably dull, upon first glance, apart from his tie being slightly eschew. It’s largely not even visible beneath the tan sweater-vest, and the crisp white shirt rolled up to the elbows is the only other indication that he ever unwinds at all. Finally he gets his voice back in working order.

❝ Well, ❞ he says, like the word is too common for his mouth, or perhaps it’s been poisoned, ❝ Well. This should be easy, then. ❞ Craven clears his throat at the exact time that Orion’s robe falls a little off his shoulder. He doesn’t straighten it; he can feel it’s covering everything else fairly well, and he enjoys watching this new toy squirm a little. ❝ I need you to keep it down. You’ve interrupted three conference calls, and I only got in two days ago. ❞

Orion waits for a follow-up, but none come. ❝ You’re the neighbor, ❞ he states, not a hint of a question in his voice.

❝ Yes, and I’d appreciate a quiet night. ❞

That gets a smirk. ❝ You would ? You see, I’ve been appreciating — ❞

Everett holds up a hand, but his eyes say he’s uncomfortable, not demanding. Orion grins. ❝ I don’t want to hear it. Just, once ? I’m about to take a call from America tomorrow. Surely you can wait it out one night. ❞

Now he’s leaning against the door-frame, amused. Can he make this uptight ridiculous man say stop fucking so loudly every night? Unclear, but he’s certainly going to try. ❝ Wait out what ? ❞ he asks, tilting his head. ❝ I’m certain I can deduce your meaning, but you really haven’t been clear... ❞ He waits, watching the muscles in Craven’s jaw tighten. He looks better in person. There’s a magnetism that just isn’t there in the photo shoots he’s had done since his father stepped down as CEO. He watches him swallow hard, clearly not sure what to do with someone so comfortably outside Craven’s boundaries.

❝ Whatever... dalliances you have lined up, just stop them for a night. I assume I can’t bribe you into it, considering your living situation, but — ❞

❝ You can bribe me, Craven. ❞ He almost jumps at the sound of his own name, which makes Orion laugh outright. ❝ My name’s Orion. Obviously, I know yours, with all the magazines and that. Now... for the bribe. ❞ He rakes his eyes over Craven’s lanky frame one more time. It has promise. He can’t really tell what’s going on with this many layers, though. ❝ Take off the vest. ❞

❝ What ? ❞ The outright offense in his tone makes Orion smile harder.

❝ Lose the sweater and I won’t have any ‘dalliances’ tomorrow night, ❞ he promises, using air quotes to really seal the deal. Craven has lost that boss-man presence rather quickly, and now looks quite intimidated, though he tries to recover.

Spluttering, he stands up a little too straight, narrowing his eyes at Orion. ❝ That’s it ? Just take it off, here, in the middle of the hall ? ❞

He’s reacting like Orion asked him to bare his ankles in Victorian England. One brow raised, he opens the door a little further. ❝ Unless you’d like to come inside and do so, which is on the table. ❞

Everett Craven whips the sweater vest over his head like he’s about to use it to put out a house-fire. Orion well and truly cackles, watching the flush spread down his cheeks and under the collar of his shirt. ❝ You are a lunatic, ❞ he hisses, arms still partially in the vest. A for effort, though.

He takes a moment to evaluate Craven’s shoulders — broader than he would’ve guessed, narrower than his own — before relenting. ❝ Alright, alright, ❞ he says, shaking with laughter against the doorframe, ❝ Go, I swear, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. ❞ He mimes turning a key in his mouth, and he’s still laughing when Craven shuts the door to his own half of the penthouse, nearly half a minute before Orion remembers to go back inside.

Everett really should know better by now, Orion thinks to himself as a familiar knock sounds. They’ve played this game for weeks, and over the course of those, he’s managed to learn a thing or thirty about his snobbish neighbor. He always wears matching socks, for one; Orion made him take off his shoes the second time he came to request his silence, and the vest. They’ve established a pattern of sorts. Everett probably is trying to figure out whether or not it’s extortion, but Orion knows he’s in the clear. Everett doesn’t have to keep showing up barefoot, asking for silence. He could simply deal with the embarrassment of listening to Orion bringing someone to orgasm, or hearing the dull thud of the headboard in the background.

He’s repressed, that much is clear. Otherwise he’d simply tell his fellow cronies, half of whom probably have some teenager sucking their cock under the desk, that he had an annoying neighbor. As it stands, Everett would rather die, it seems. When did he start calling him by his first name?

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. His fellowship is ending soon, just as Everett’s business trip. It’s strange, how close their schedules align. All of this runs through his head as he makes his way to the door, lackadaisical now because this time, he’s just fucking with Everett. He opens the door with safety glasses on, and he swears that Everett’s eyes bug cartoonishly out of his skull.

❝ What on earth could you possibly be doing at an hour like this ? ❞ It’s 3 in the morning. Orion debates on telling Everett that 3 in the morning is an acceptable time to have sex before deciding to pick his battles.

Instead, he opens the door wide, and Everett seems to realize he’s fully dressed for the first time. He follows a little warily, but Orion doesn’t pay it any mind, barefoot in jeans and a henley that are now covered in dust. ❝ Wasn’t sleeping, ❞ he says, which isn’t the same as being unable to sleep, but Craven doesn’t have to know that if his assumptions suggest otherwise. ❝ Thought I’d try my hand at this one more time. ❞ He’s got a hammer and a chisel laid out on the work bench, the overhead light illuminating a statue in the center of the open room. It’s a fawn, half-emerging from the stone, wide-eyed and with a hint of wisdom in its eyes.

Everett slides his hands into his pockets. Orion knows he’s kept weird hours due to all his calls, so he’s not surprised to note that he’s fully dressed, not a hint of pajama pants in sight. He sighs, but Everett isn’t paying him attention any longer. He’s walking around the sculpture with something like awe in his eyes.

That’s not good. It’s actually bad for him, and Orion takes it in decadently, relishing in every tiny detail of his expression. ❝ You did all of this ? ❞ Everett asks. He’s mentioned he was an artist before, but someone who views Orion as he does probably thought he made a bunch of nude portraits or something. Orion shrugs.

❝ Sculpture isn’t my thing, but it kind of reminds me of you. ❞ He’s unabashed in his compliments, uncaring of whether he comes across as weird or overly invested. Orion’s feelings are always right there for you to see, if you’re looking hard enough. Right now, it feels like Everett’s looking.

They stand there, staring at each other, Orion waiting for Everett to respond. It takes a minute or so, looking from Orion back to the sculpture again and moving around it. ❝ I’d at least consider myself a stag, ❞ he says, that dry, acerbic humor of his coming out with a faint bite. Orion laughs.

❝ If anyone’s the stag, it’s me, ❞ he argues, ❝ But that probably gets a little Electra complex. Try not to think about it so hard. ❞

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Everett Craven laughs. It’s astonishing in that he hasn’t ever heard it before, and he feels a bit proud, to have earned it after so long waiting. He shakes his head, and looks at Orion with cheeks stained red again. Orion himself hasn’t blushed in years. It’s more charming than it aught to be.

❝ Were you really... having sex, every night I came ? ❞ It seems like he’s been working up to the question for a while.

Orion shrugs. ❝ Yeah. That bother you ? ❞

Now it’s Everett’s turn to gesture noncommittally. ❝ Not as much as it did. Do you ever lie ? You can be so... ❞

❝ Nope. ❞ Orion pops the ‘p’ and grins. ❝ You gonna admit my art is impressive yet ? ❞

❝ Working on it, ❞ Everett says, falling right back into that dryness now that the hint of sincerity has passed. ❝ Maybe not now that you’ve said it for me. ❞

❝ I’ll make you a deal, ❞ Orion offers, stepping closer. The statue casts weird shadows on the room, and on Everett’s face. It’s only up close that he sees it properly. They’re the exact same height, which makes eye contact uncomfortably intimate somehow, but he keeps it.

❝ Alright. What’s the deal ? ❞

❝ Either you dissect my work in detail... ❞ Orion reaches out, thumb tracing that impossible cheekbone he’s been staring at for almost a month. ❝ Either that, or you give me a kiss. ❞

In spite of how far he’s come, the offer still gets a rise out of Everett. ❝ A — a what ? ❞

❝ A kiss. You know, you and another person, you push your lips together, sounds a lot less appealing than it feels — ❞

❝ I’ve been kissed before, ❞ Everett snaps, and Orion can’t help laughing, because it sounds so much like it’s been inflicted upon him.

He shakes his head, noting that Everett hasn’t pushed his hand away from his face, though now he’s only gently holding onto him. ❝ Well it’s either a kiss or an in-depth art critique in the next ten minutes, ❞ he says, grinning. ❝ What’s it going to be ? ❞

Everett looks at him as though he’s insane. Then he looks irritated, before it crosses into fond, and then again into a blend of the two. ❝ You’re ridiculous. You aren’t even a real human being, I’m convinced — ❞

❝ Choose, Craven. ❞

❝ — some villain. You’re kind of insufferable, a menace to society, really — ❞

❝ And ? ❞

They stand looking at each other for a moment before Everett grasps Orion’s wrist, still near his face. Even his ears are red, now. ❝ And I — I will take a kiss. ❞

Orion is moving before he finishes the sentence, shutting him up as quickly and efficiently as possible. Everett misses three calls the next morning, but a strange man claiming to be his assistant calls each to apologize personally. Something in the tone of his voice suggests neither him nor his employer are all that sorry.

#{.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ EDGAR | the closest thing to comfort.#ask meme #ITS SO LONG

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