#trust me i could have gone off the fucking rails but i contained myself

[excusemewhileiplaykh]

tell me about recoded

I can talk a lot about re:coded but in the interest of my time and yours I’ll try my best to give you a short but concise explanation of everything that I find important from re:coded and why I think re:coded is one of the most important kh games to understand.

1. Kairi is not in the game. She appears in promo art for re:coded and yet she is mentioned only once in the game all the way at the end (more on the scene where she is mentioned later)

2. Data Sora learns about hurt in re:coded and it is very important for his development as a “real” person. It is then stressed by Data Namine at the end of re:coded that while Data Sora has learned what hurt is, the “real” Sora must learn what hurt is before he can save everyone (i.e., Roxas, Xion, Ventus, Aqua, Terra, etc.). Keep in mind that re:coded happens immediately after 2 and before DDD. DDD takes place at maximum in like... a week. When in this timeline does Sora learn about hurt or examines this concept? We never see it and there is no reasonable time within this period that he would have properly explored that concept (more on this later)

3. There are two Rikus in re:coded. No, really. It’s weird. There’s Data Riku and a hooded Riku whose face we never see.

4. Speaking of the other hooded Riku, he speaks to Data Sora at the end of re:coded and speaks to him in... a weird tense. To see more of what I mean, refer to this post.

5. So if you clicked on the post, you would have seen that the hooded Riku mentions Data Sora saving Kairi and himself. This is the only time Kairi is mentioned like I said in my first point. Why does this hooded Riku say Data Sora “will” (as in, in the future) save him and Kairi?

6. Considering the point 4 and 5, I invite you to consider the strangeness around Dark Riku in KH 3 and how he can summon dark cubes (like the ones in re:coded) in San Fransokyo. Moreover, pay attention to what he tells Sora in this scene. Does the way he explains Baymax’s death remind you of how someone else died in KH 3? Also, why does Dark Riku say this:

Does this wording remind you of anything? If it seems familiar, it’s because Riku-Ansem says almost the exact same thing to Sora when he finds Kairi in Hollow Bastion.

Now think back to my first point. Is this all related? I cannot say for sure, but it seems... strange. There’s more I can say about this, but again, I’m trying to be concise.

7. Now, let’s think about my second point. It was said Sora needed to learn hurt to save everyone. We see Data Sora learn hurt but not the “real” Sora. At the beginning of 3, we see a KH 1 Sora go through a mirror and seemingly switch places with the “present” Sora. Data Sora looks like KH 1 Sora. Did Data Sora switch with the “real” Sora because Data Sora knew hurt and not Sora?

8. This point is not directly related to re:coded, but I believe re:coded adds context to this situation in Re;MIND. Sora is in a computer at the end of Re:MIND. We are told that it’s not the real Sora and just data. I would be suspicious of how Sora’s presence in the data is very simply brushed off.

[opalesense]

oh my god Your 'a sight to behold' work was mhmfmmsmamzx, i love it. im sosososoossosoo curious as to what graphic details you have in mind 😏

lose control

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW)

3.5k words • ~22 min. read

summary: a part two to this where the boys are unable to fight their urges when they see you helplessly stuck in a wall.

warnings: slight dubcon, choking, cunnilingus, facefucking, a bit of zhongli favoritism oops!

notes: omg hehehe thank youu i’m so glad you liked it <3 i wrote it at 2AM and was so surprised it turned out decently well for my fuzzy brain HAHA anyway as for the graphic details... i only left them out originally because i wasn’t sure if anon wanted straight up full nsfw or not >////< but since you asked you shall receive... <3

zhongli

 Zhongli effortlessly took the rocks off of you, waiting and watching your slight movements for a few moments before your eyes finally fluttered open. A throbbing pain in your temple sent one of your hands to gently massage it, making you wince quietly in pain. “Zhongli...”

 “This is the result of carelessness and insufficient planning,” he crossed his arms and studied your curves as he calmly scolded you. “Next time, let me take the lead.”

 As you laid there massaging your head, his eyes traced up and down your body, fixating on the way your legs were helplessly spread in front of him, parted in such a way that he knew he would fit perfectly if he sat between them. Following that train of thought, he uncrossed his arms and slowly climbed on the bed of rocks, letting his body hover over you and supporting his weight with a hand planted above your head.

 His free hand crept up your shirt, pulling it up in the process. The way he suddenly exposed your torso made you gasp and simultaneously wince again from the sudden movements. You weakly placed a hand on his forearm, initially in instinctual protest but then relaxing as you knew this was not just some stranger from the outside, but a man you trusted. “Z-Zhongli, what are you-“

 “Checking for injuries, of course,” he lied with a coy smile which made you softly giggle. His hand slowly caressed your bare hips and waist, noticing the way your skin formed goosebumps at his touch. You watched as his gloved fingers hovered over your bruises and scrapes, making their way up your torso then finally pulling your bra up to reveal your breasts. You swore you could hear the hunger in his low growl as his eyes were desperately fixated on your half naked body.

 “Zhongli, at least take me home first–“ you attempted to speak up but he interrupted you by wrapping his hand around your throat, applying pressure while his knee wedged itself in the empty spot between your legs. As you choked, you finally got a good look at his face. The amicable yet stoic expression Zhongli usually had was replaced with something more sinister, more lustful. With heavily breaths and shaky hands, you could sense he was getting needier by the second.

 “Right now?” you managed to whisper as you stared into his glowing amber eyes. Unable to form coherent words now, all he could do was press his forehead against yours and let his lips quiver as he fought the thoughts that flooded his mind. He knew he shouldn’t do this. He knew he should help you get home and ensure that your wellbeing is secured. A war raged on inside his head, the logical side of him trying to fight his urges, but he knew he couldn’t uphold this for long. His body couldn’t help but latch onto yours, grinding against you in desperation. You two didn’t need to say much to each other to know when Zhongli was craving you like this. Looking down at his knee slowly rubbing against you, you already knew what was going to happen. From the sight of you so vulnerable under him, your legs spread out in a perfect position for him to take you, all he wanted to do in this moment was chase his release. And yes, he needed to do it now.

 You tilted your chin up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, slightly catching him off guard. He let go of your throat as he gave you another short kiss back, letting out what sounded like a whimper once he pulled his face away. You sighed contently as you glanced down at his growing bulge. “Well, make it quick, okay? Then we can continue this at home–“

 Immediately after hearing your approval, Zhongli wasted no time to lean down and wrap his lips on one of your nipples, immediately biting and sucking, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the sensation. He simultaneously freed his already hardened cock from his pants, slowly pumping it with his hand and letting out a low groan, sending vibrations to your nipple. You whimpered in pleasure, instinctively trying to pin your knees together in an attempt at modesty which only squeezed him closer to you.

 He let go of your nipple and lifted himself up, now standing in front of you and slowly pumping his cock as he looked down at the sight of your lewd position. “Please tell me if this is too much,” he managed to tell you before he lifted one hand towards a boulder and crushed it into a peculiar shape with one swift movement.

 Before you could process why he was now hovering the large rock over your body, you felt the earth rumble below you and push you upwards, straightening your spine as if you were laying on a table. Your legs began to dangle off the edge of the newly made platform as he locked you in place with the boulder he had shaped, which you noticed had a space carved into it only large enough for your waist to be pinned down. It was all adding up now as he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you closer to him, ensuring that you couldn’t escape his cleverly built trap.

 Lifting your knees over his shoulders and pulling your underwear to the side, you felt his erection prod your slick entrance before he slowly pushed himself inside of your cunt, groaning in pleasure as he grabbed ahold of your thighs for stability. He began to rock his hips back and forth immediately, leaving you breathlessly moaning at the little time you had to adjust to his size.

 “Only you make me feel this way,” he muttered as his grip on your thighs tightened. He leaned forward to pound into you at a better angle, his hips slamming into yours with each powerful thrust. “Only you can make me lose control of myself so easily...”

childe

 “...I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead.”

Childe’s words echoed in your head as he yanked your underwear down and firmly gripped your ass, spreading your folds apart and making you shiver at the sudden exposure. You tried to wiggle your way out of the pile of rocks in protest, but that only pushed you further into his grasp, making him laugh at your pathetic attempt to escape. You didn’t want to admit that this was slowly turning you on, but looking down at the damp stain in your underwear, Childe knew regardless.

 “You make it so easy for me,” he traced a finger over your already wet folds, eliciting a whimper from your throat. “You make it so easy for me to conquer you and remind you that you’re mine to play with.”

 Even though you weren’t eager to get toyed around with, given the current circumstances of being completely locked in with nowhere to go, you weren’t completely opposed either. You couldn’t help but mewl at the feeling of Childe suddenly pushing one gloved finger inside of your trembling cunt, slowly curling his digit to massage your walls. “At least... take me home first...” you whined cutely, he thought.

 “Why should I when you’re already enjoying yourself here?” he pulled his finger out momentarily only to push back in with two fingers, “Look how wet you are when we’ve only just begun...”

 Childe could hardly contain himself either, but he didn’t want to verbally admit it. If only you could see how hard he was getting by the second just by staring at your vulnerable holes and the way your underwear hung around your knees, or the tiny squirming of your legs when he pushed the right spots inside you. If only you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together, breath stuttering as he fantasized about railing you into next year in this position, fucking you into the wall for hours until you cried for him to stop.

 But for now, he decided he’d show you some mercy and make it quick. As he used his free hand to unbuckle his pants and unsheath his cock, he was determined to hear your screams echo around the walls of the cavern first before letting you go. “Hold still for me, okay? It’s not like you can go anywhere, anyway,” he chuckled then pulled his fingers out to grip your ass and position himself behind you, “I’ll make you feel so good...”

 “Childe, wait–!” was all you could say before moaning in ecstacy as he began to drive his cock into your aching hole, each inch pushing apart your walls so deliciously that he couldn’t help but moan too. He stayed still for a moment, bottomed out inside of you, head pressed up against the rocks as he relished in the feeling of you clamping around his cock. But before you could relax and bask in the delightful feeling of being stuffed full, he squeezed your ass with both hands and began pounding into you with no second thought.

 Whatever pain you might have had before was surely gone by his penetration alone. He knew how good he was screwing you by the way you whimpered out his name in between moans, or the way you subtly pressed up against him with the limited movement you had, matching his rhythm. “You better pray that I don’t lose control and fuck you here until the sun rises,” he said with a dubious smirk that you wish you could’ve seen, “But I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

diluc

 To say Diluc was nervous as his eyes were pinned on your thighs rubbing together was an understatement. He could feel himself getting more aroused by the second, staring at your underwear and noticing a subtle wet stain that had developed beforehand. Your words were completely drowned out in his mind. All he could focus on was resisting his urges and maintaining his composure like a true gentleman.

 But surely a gentleman could be a little self indulgent now and then, right? Especially since you were tempting him so badly wiggling around like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing this to him on purpose.

 He took a few steps closer to the wall and adjusted his gloves before reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie. “Could you repeat that again for me, dear?” he tilted his head as he gathered his long strands into a ponytail, never taking his eyes off of your glistening skin.

 You happily obliged, listening to him kneel down behind you, assuming he was just picking up another rock. “I was just saying how – Diluc?”

 Your assumption couldn’t possibly be more wrong. He interrupted you by pulling your underwear down to your thighs, licking his lips as his hungry gaze traced your wet folds, imagining what your face must look like by how he took you by surprise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he fantasized about you, the straps of your underwear still wrapped around his fingers to keep his hands on you no matter how much you squirmed underneath him.

 He leaned down to press a sweet kiss on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you in response. Smirking, he stuck out his tongue and began slowly tracing the wet muscle around your folds, savoring your taste and savoring the sweet moans you gave him at the same time. “Keep making those pretty sounds, my love,” he whispered, his hot breath against your cunt driving you crazy.

 His slow and sensual kisses on your cunt was only the start of his feast. Each kiss was accompanied with small circles he rubbed into your thighs with his thumbs and low periodic groans that sent vibrations through his tongue, making you whimper in ecstacy. But as much as he loved taking things slow and steady, he wanted to hear you cry out his name. He wanted to see how far he could take you to the edge by his control alone. He wanted to make those pretty legs tremble violently under his touch.

 In one swift motion, he began to prod his tongue against your entrance, stretching your folds by drawing circles with his eager muscle. If only the rocks weren’t holding you down along with his hands pressing your thighs into place, you surely would have been thrashing around at the way he teased you with his tongue alone. Slowly, he began to extend his tongue into you more, inching his face closer to your aching hole and stopping once his nose met your skin. The sensation of his tongue gently quivering inside you made you melt, even more so when he started to fuck you at a steady pace with his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in your taste.

 Soon, his movements started to reflect how hungry he really was for you. He bobbed his head steadily, stifling his moans so he could listen to yours. He took one hand off of your thigh to gently rub your clit with his thumb, still fucking you with his tongue and making you subtly rock your hips back and forth to match his rhythm. It hadn’t even been very long since he laid his hands on you, but your body couldn’t help but react to how worked up he was making you.

 And of course, he would notice these reactions. Your shaky rhythm against his was an indicator to hold you down firmly and quicken his pace, and surely enough, the heat in your core was starting to build up. You buried your head in the rocks, flustered and blushing more than you ever had before. “D-Diluc...! More... more, please!”

 When he pulled his tongue out, you figured he was just going to be mean to you and deny your orgasm but you were pleasantly mistaken. To your surprise, after a moment of rustling as he took one of his gloves off, he pushed two fingers inside of your needy hole and began to hit your sweet spot immediately as he fingered you, almost as if he had memorized what makes you cry out in pleasure. His eager lips began to suck on your clit as well, his heart set on making you cum on his fingers.

 Soon enough, you couldn’t contain it anymore. Your legs quivered as you reached your peak, your mewling and whining sadly muffled by the rocks but loud enough for him to hear you clearly enough. The sound of his name being echoed throughout the cavern as your orgasm exploded on his bare fingers was enough to make his cock throb. With heavy, warm breaths, he pulled his face and fingers away from you to let you calm down from your climax, his face flushed red and nose shining from your wetness. “So beautiful... I can never get enough of you, [Y/N].”

 You whined as he slowly let go of your thigh after giving you one last kiss on your sensitive clit. He licked his lips once more, lapping up all your wetness and wiping the excess that had dribbled down on his chin with his sleeve. With a chuckle, he stood up and placed his hands back on your ass, squeezing your curves and pressing his hips against yours. His clothed bulge fit so perfectly between your cheeks, snuggling comfortably in your wetness to leave a stain on his pants. He grinded himself into you even more at the sight of this, teasing you just for the fun of it. “Don’t worry love, we’re not going anywhere just yet...”

kaeya

 “Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

 Kaeya’s hands travelled from massaging your scalp to scaling up your jaw, one thumb tracing your bottom lip gently asking to let him in. You pouted stubbornly, losing your patience – you had been stuck here for a while and wanted to get out, after all. “Quit running–“

 But alas, he used this moment to stick his thumb inside your mouth, letting the pad of his finger massage your tongue. He let out a hum of satisfaction as your eyes softened, slowly submitting to his touch. “You’re being awfully defiant to the one person who can get you out of here. I ought to teach that naughty mouth of yours a lesson while I claim my prize, hm?”

 This man never knows when to shut up, a voice in your head complained. But admittedly, the way he stared at your mouth so longingly had your core light up a tiny bit. You whined in response at first, looking down (or up?) at his thumb disappearing inside your mouth then deciding it would be best to comply. With a small hum you opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue stick out as your eyes darted to meet his. He grinned contently, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to pull his cock out of his pants. No matter how many times you’ve seen his length, you never understood how he managed to fit himself inside you.

 “Good girl,” he tucked his hand under your neck to offer support as he pressed his tip against your awaiting tongue. He started rocking his hips slightly just to tease you, grinning evilly as he stared down at your eyes. “You’re so cute like this. So vulnerable and eager to please whenever I want you...”

 He began to slowly push himself into your mouth, letting out a groan of relief as he buried himself inch by inch. You sputtered a bit at first, not completely used to his length just yet, but secretly he loved whenever you choked on his cock. He let you ride out your choking a bit more as he nearly bottomed out, watching as your throat slowly relaxed around his bulge.

 His other free hand found its way on your cheek, caressing it as he started to rock his hips back and forth very slowly, basking in the feeling of your throat clamped around his cock. “Such a good girl, making me feel so good whenever I want... You’re doing very well, sweetheart,” he quietly praised, opting to listen to your muffled whimpering whenever he pushed in.

 A bit of restlessness started to kick in after awhile of fucking your mouth so slowly, and with a naughty smirk, Kaeya took both hands to grip both sides of your head. He started to thrust into your mouth at a quicker pace, occasionally pulling out to give you a breath of air only to bury himself in your throat again. He found himself unable to contain his moans at this point, letting his sweet, raspy praises for you ring through your ears. Your legs started to twitch in excitement the more he praised you for being so obedient and good for him that despite your initial defiance, you hoped he would take care of your needs later.

 Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers running across your scalp then suddenly taking a tight grip on your head as he fucked your brains out quite literally. He began to get lost in the feeling, ignoring your pleas for air as you tapped his thigh repeatedly through tears. Even when he snapped back to his senses for a moment to pull out, he whined desperately as he quickly pushed himself back in, wanting to chase his orgasm so badly using your mouth.

 “S-So good for me... I’m gonna...! F-Fuck, no..!” Kaeya quickly and quite nervously pulled himself out of you, leaving you immediately coughing and gagging in your own spit and his precum. He grunted in frustration, leaving you confused and concerned as you continued to choke for air. He suddenly tucked his cock back into his pants haphazardly and went straight back to work on getting the rocks off of you.

 “W-What was that all about? Are you waiting until we get home or something?” your voice was clearly defeated as you watched him work. He only glanced back at you for a moment before chuckling and pulling one specific rock out of the pile to send the rest tumbling down, finally revealing your trembling body, exposed in all of its glory. You gasped in a mixture of relief and excitement as he hungrily climbed on top of you and pulled you towards him so your head wouldn’t hang off the edge anymore. You giggled at how disheveled and horny he evidently was, his movements ragged and needy. Who could blame him for looking so desperate when he was staring up and down your vulnerable body, waiting to devour you like a hungry beast?

 His hands worked with urgency as he ripped your underwear off and unsheathed his cock again, manhandling your hips to meet his. You gasped as he quickly pushed himself inside of your cunt and began pounding into you mercilessly, not letting you adjust to his size since you were already so aroused for him anyway. Your cute whimpers and gasps made him even more feral, and it was at this point that he decided to lean down and whisper the answer to your question earlier.

 “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t just wait until we get home, I need to be inside you right now...”

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[sparkkeyper]

A Matter of Trust

My take on the “night at Crowley’s flat” fic. 

Swapping faces requires complete trust. Unfortunately, Aziraphale has not been particularly honest leading up to Armageddon and it's hard to overcome that doubt.

Words: 2295

Warnings: None

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

"You really think she meant switching our actual faces?"

"I've been over it a dozen times and I'm quite sure. I've had the last 72 hours to become familiar with Agnes' peculiar brand of predictions."

Crowley blew out a long breath and took another sip of his coffee. It was the deepest hour of the night. Darkness pressed around the outside of his flat, threatening at the edges of the LED lighting. "Put a lot of stock in this prophecy, do you?"

Aziraphale nodded from where he sat nearby on the couch, the torn slip of prophecy on the cushion between them. "Absolutely. Every prediction in her book came to pass exactly as she saw it. If this is the scenario we're up against, then 'choosing our faces wisely' is our best shot at surviving it."

"Suppose that's settled, then. Once Above and Below start after us, they won't stop unless we really give them a good reason."

"I agree. Now, this will require complete trust and extraordinary focus in order to work. It isn't like lending someone a scarf."

"That's the point, I thought. Something neither side will see coming."

"Exactly. All right then." Aziraphale wriggled a bit on the couch, bracing himself. "Are you ready?"

Crowley set down his coffee and flexed his fingers. "Ready."

Aziraphale held out his hand and the demon took it. Swap with him.

Nothing happened.

"Er..."

"Ngk. Hang on." Crowley gave himself a shake. "Been a long day and all that. Lemme just refocus. Right, let's do it." He took the angel's hand again. Swap. With. Him.

Again, nothing happened.

There were several long, awkward seconds.

Get it together, you stupid snake. This is important. This could be the most important thing you've ever done. This is Aziraphale. Best friend for centuries. You know what to expect from him.

He did know what to expect. That was the problem.

The moment was stretching on far too long. He dropped the angel's hand like it had burned him and scrubbed his palms over his soot-stained face.

"Crowley?"

"It's fine! I'll make it work, give me a blessed break."

He stood and paced the room for a moment while Aziraphale sat stiffly on the couch, watching him. "Is there anything I can do to...to facilitate things? I'm not sure what the problem is."

"There's no problem, it's fine," Crowley snapped. "I've got this. Just worry about your end of it and I'll worry about mine. Right!" He spun on his heel with his hand out and Aziraphale stood to match him. "Swap, then!"

He clasped the angel's hand and tried. He could feel the miracle simmering somewhere in the ether, attempted but not complete. He reached for it, he reached with all his might.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this," he insisted, a pit forming in his stomach. He'd just held his car together for 40 miles, he could believe one little idea for 5 seconds.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this!"

"Oh for goodness' sake-"

The angel was frustrated. He had every right to be but that was beside the point. A frustrated Aziraphale got indignant. A frustrated Aziraphale stormed off.

A frustrated Aziraphale pulled away when they needed most to stick together.

Crowley blessed savagely and spun, stomping for the balcony.

"Where are-"

"I just...I need to get some air." He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond.

The night breeze from so many stories up was like a slap in the face. Crowley welcomed it, leaning heavily on the balcony railing and burying his face in his hands. He couldn't do the miracle. Not that he didn't want to - he'd rarely wanted anything so much in his life. But he couldn't get his heart into it the way it needed to be.

We're not friends!

It wasn't true, of course. But it was something Aziraphale had wanted to be true. Because it would make the angel's life so much less complicated. Crowley was a friend...until he wasn't. Crowley occupied a place of esteem...until he didn't. Aziraphale worked so very hard to view a messy world in a manageable way and sometimes cuts had to be made.

His coffee sat suddenly on the railing because it knew what was good for it, and when he raised it to his lips it obligingly added a considerable amount of whiskey.

If they couldn't do the swap, they had no future. The Earth had a new lease on life tonight, but if they couldn't swap it would be at the price of their own. He knew Hell would show no mercy and he couldn't fool himself into thinking Heaven would. But Aziraphale... When it came to Heaven, Aziraphale could fool himself into thinking a lot of things.

I don't even like you!

Even if I did I wouldn't tell you! We're on opposite sides!

Aziraphale, who always had excuses to fall back on.

Aziraphale, who had a book with the Antichrist's address and hadn't told him.

Aziraphale who, when the world was on the brink of destruction, had kept calling out to Heaven.

If it came down to their partnership or Heaven, Heaven was the first to be appeased, no contest. Crowley understood his reasons. Aziraphale was, at his core, an angel. He treasured that identity even if he disagreed with his superiors and assignments. He held out hope in goodness, in Her, in a way Crowley never could. He wanted so badly for everything to turn out nice and good in the end, and Crowley could not take that from him.

When Heaven couldn't provide, Crowley was there to be his safety net. But Heaven was always, always first.

The balcony door clicked behind him and hesitant footsteps stepped out into the night. "If there's anything I can do to help you focus, you need only ask."

Crowley couldn't bring himself to look at him. "Focus isn't the problem."

Aziraphale was quiet for a very long moment. "Oh," he said softly.

There was no shock in his voice. No condemnation either. Crowley wondered if it would take some time to sink it, given everything that had already happened to them tonight, but as Aziraphale joined him at the balcony railing he knew that the angel understood what this meant.

Dull blue eyes followed Crowley's gaze out over London and Aziraphale took a slow sip of his tea. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't," Crowley told him tiredly. "What's done is done."

"But the consequences are ongoing. And will be for a long time, I expect." Aziraphale sighed heavily. "I am responsible, I won't pretend otherwise."

"I tried," Crowley confessed, the words barely audible over the background hum of the city. "I truly did."

"I don't doubt it."

A breeze wandered in. Tousled through red and blonde hair. Wandered somewhere else.

"I suppose I ought to at least ask...was it slow over time or was it because of this past week?"

Crowley didn't answer for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee. "Bit of both."

"Mmm." Aziraphale nodded, not particularly surprised by this. "I should have seen this coming, really. I should have seen a good many things coming."

"Stop it," the demon muttered. "You can't see everything coming. Something something ineffability."

"Is just one of the excuses I've been hiding behind for a very long time. And now it's caught up with me. With us." He sighed. "I suppose it's not just evil that contains the seeds of its own destruction."

Crowley didn't have the energy to come up with a biting response. He just looked exhausted. "I don't regret a minute of it, you know," he murmured. "The Arrangement. You and I. Wouldn't trade it for anything." There were dark circles under his eyes. "But I can't trust you the way I'd need to for this to work. I wish I could. I've tried. I just can't do it."

Aziraphale grimaced to hear the words out loud, but did not dispute it. How could he? "I don't blame you. You're right - it's not fair to ask you to trust me when I've squandered your trust so thoroughly."

We're not friends, hung thick in the air between them.

"Not that I think you don't care," Crowley clarified. "I know you do. You're terrible at hiding it, really. And you came to find me today before it all ended. That's not nothing." He took another sip of coffee. "But you also lied to my face. Repeatedly."

"I did," the angel acknowledged quietly.

"While the world was ending."

"Yes."

"That hurt, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale bit his lip hard. "I know. I'd take it back if I could. But I suppose it's too late to make a difference now."

They stood in silence for a time. Then Crowley sighed and turned back to the flat. "Come on. It's been a long day. There's wine in the kitchen, we may as well enjoy it while we can before they come for us."

The angel followed him inside and watched as he pulled glasses from a cabinet. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay the night. You didn't have to, after everything."

"Stay as long as you like," the demon uncorked the wine bottle. "Your shop's gone. Fuck's sake, I'm not a monster."

"No." Aziraphale's expression was very, very soft. "You're not."

Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked up at him at last: this demon whose heart had been broken too many times. "I want you to be all right, Aziraphale. I need you safe. I need you alive. I want to see you happy. But I don't know how far I can meet you."

"I can't say I'm surprised, after all I've put you through," the angel admitted ruefully. "Denying we were ever friends, or insinuating that you were somehow less than I. I've been a rather dreadful friend to you over the centuries."

Crowley hung his head, wine forgotten. "I know why you keep us at a distance and I know why you lied about the boy. You were doing what you thought was best at the time. I can't blame you for that. But to do what that prophecy wants, when push comes to shove I need to believe with all my heart that you won't leave me hanging. And I...I can't bring myself to believe that." He scrubbed his hands across his face. "Given time I might, but we don't have time. I can't do it. And I hate it. Because that's going to get you killed. I need you alive but once they come for us, I won't be able to save you. Not this time."

"You talk as though you're not in danger yourself," Aziraphale's face crumpled. "Crowley, if Below gets their hands on you they will destroy you utterly. I will not let that happen. I can't take back what I've said but you are the dearest thing in this world to me and I'm not going to stand back and let them take you."

Crowley looked like he was trying so very hard to hope but just couldn't get there. "I want to believe that, I really do. But I can't do blind faith like you can. I don't have it in me anymore."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the demon's. "I'm not asking you to forgive what I've done. And I'm not asking for blind faith. Goodness knows how much trouble that's caused." His voice cracked at that but he plunged onward. "I'm only asking you to believe me when I say that I will not let Hell have you. If we cannot switch our faces, we will find another way."

"But your prophecy. Agnes-"

"Agnes be damned." That shut Crowley up. Tears glistened on the angel's cheeks. "If I have to march Down There after you. If I have to take up a sword. If I have to stand between you and God Herself. I swear to you on everything that I am, I will not let Hell have you."

And in that brief moment, for just that one promise in a sea of other broken ones, Crowley believed he was telling the truth.

His hand scrabbled for Aziraphale's and he pushed for all he was worth before he could lose this moment, he pushed every atom of his soul into the heart of his best friend, gave him everything that he was and ever could be, and in that instant he trusted Aziraphale to keep him safe.

And then Aziraphale was pouring into him and Crowley opened himself up and let it happen, let him seep into every muscle, every bone, every molecule of his being -

-and suddenly there was no difference between them, there was no angel, no demon, just a tumult of soul and hope and pain and fear and resolve and-

Crowley tumbled out the other side like falling out of bed. He gasped in a strangled breath, stumbling backwards into the kitchen counter and staring suddenly into his own face. He stared down at his clothes - beige - and his hands - manicured - and back up, feeling the warmth of his best friend's corporation surrounding him like a blanket. Aziraphale, in Crowley's, did much the same.

There was stunned silence in the flat as they let this sink in. Then one of them snapped, or maybe both, and suddenly Crowley's face was buried in the collar of a stinking, burnt leather jacket and Aziraphale was crushing him close, and both were squeezing so hard the other could scarcely breathe.

"Thank you," Aziraphale managed at last. "For trusting me enough to let me save you."

"Not if I save you first," Crowley choked out, and broken giggles filled the flat.

(Also on AO3!)

[lennonknowsmysins]

safety.

beatle: john

summary: you and john have been in a relationship since you started working for the band a few months ago. six months ago, you were raped by your former boss. on one fateful night, you have to tell john the truth. 

tw: THIS FIC CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF RAPE, panic attack-ish

an: this fic is more intense than any of the others that i’ve written but it’s important to me for personal reasons that i won’t go into. writing this has been comforting to me and i hope that reading it will be so for you all. 

It was the feeling of his hands. 

Running down your back, gripping your hips, forcing your legs apart. Leaving bruises in his wake. Pushing your shoulders onto the bed as he climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists down. He was touching you, hurting you- 

"Stop! Please, no!"

His hands were gone. The weight on top of you was gone. 

With a whimper, you scampered off the bed, searching for a way out of the room. The soft flutter of a curtain caught the corner of your eye, alerting you of the balcony. You made a beeline for it, racing out the door only to stop in your tracks when you were met with the metal railing. You were enclosed, trapped, no way out. Frantically, you skittered around the balcony, desperate for a way out.

Then his voice came. 

Not the voice that had tormented you for the past six months but the ones that had been a source of comfort for the past four. You'd heard it first on the radio, then when he'd hired you and now as he coaxed you off the balcony. 

"(yn)" He called, his voice gentle. 

You looked up from your cornered position. 

John. You were in Paris with John Lennon. You trusted him, he wouldn't hurt you. 

Shakily, you got to your feet, unsure of when you had sat down. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Your memory steadily came back. John had invited you to come to Paris with him. He was here for a television interview tomorrow. There had been a social event thrown by the network hosting the interview and you and John had attended. It was the first time since the attack that you had allowed yourself to drink alcohol. Only one glass of champagne and only under the protect of John's arm lazily draped across your shoulders. Then the both of you had retreated back to your hotel room.

You had thought that you'd be fine with having sex again. For God's sake, you were in Paris with John fucking Lennon, you should be fine with having sex. But as soon as you felt his hand on your bare skin, moving up to unclasp your bra, you had been thrown back into your terror. 

Now John was stepping towards you slowly, trying to inch you away from the ledge. He stretched his arms out, unsure of what to do, just desperate for you to step away from the railing. Hesitantly, you took a step towards him. 

"That's it, birdie. It's okay, let's just go inside. It's cold out here, you must be freezing."

It was cold. You were shivering in just your bra and underwear. John's arms were warm and safe. You rushed into his hold, melting into him as he pulled you to his chest.

"John," You sobbed, letting him cradle you. You were vaguely aware of your knees buckling from under you but John was quick to catch you, carrying you back inside. He placed you on the bed as though he thought you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. 

He murmured every comfort he could think of as he rummaged for his tee shirt, pulling it over you. Fingers, calloused from years of mastering the guitar, began to card through your hair. The feeling was nice, it almost made you sleepy. However, you forced your eyes to stay open, to stay trained John so that you knew that it was John touching you. His warm, brown eyes were filled with worry as he took you in, shaking like a leaf beneath him, your eyes filled with tears. 

"'m sorry." You croaked, scratching at your knees. 

John shook his head, thumb stroking your cheek, "'s alright, love, you don't need to apologize to me."

"No, no, I do. I thought I could do this but...but..." You trailed off, your words catching in your throat. 

It was silent for a moment. Then John spoke, his voice steady but uneven. 

"(yn), did something happen?"

Six months. It had been six months of pain, of trying to forget what happened. Six months and no one had asked you that. 

You were tempted to say no. You didn't want to burden John with this. He was the most popular rock star in the world, he had his music, reputation, band to worry about. This was your beast to take on. But you'd been holding it in for so long, hoping to just forget about it. It had been so lonely, keeping it secret - keeping your hurt secret. And now John was asking you about it. From the meltdown you had just had, maybe you owed him an explanation. So you nodded. 

"I was raped."

It was barely a whisper but John had understood. His stomach did a massive flip as his heart took a dive. Subconsciously, he could have seen it coming, not even just from your freak out. There had been smaller signs; sometimes you would flinch when someone touched you, rest a hand on your back or you'd stiffen when being hugged. Whenever unfamiliar male guests showed up at the studio, you were plastered to his side or nowhere in sight. You didn't like to be physically close to men, even the other lads. It had taken John a solid month to be able to hold your hand. You never wanted to stay out late, preferring to just make dinner yourself. The way you'd gripped onto him at George's birthday party when Paul had gotten completely wasted and mistaken you for Jane. To John, it had been funny but when he thought about it, you had been terrified. Close to tears even. 

At first, he'd just assumed that you were a little shy and overwhelmed. You were just adjusting to living in London, working for the Beatles. It was an intense world to be in, especially when you were working closely with four boys who had no sense of boundaries. 

Now he wondered how he could have been so blind. 

How could he have just dismissed those signs, your little ticks and tremors? John Lennon wasn't normally one to admit when he was wrong but right now, sitting in front of you, watching as you made yourself as small as possible, he had no excuse for his ignorance. 

When John stayed silent, you continued with a deep breath, 

"I-It was six months ago. Just before I started working for you guys. I was interning for him, waiting for him to offer me a real job. He invited me to the opening of his friend's restaurant and I thought that maybe he was planning on finally officially hiring me, so, like an idiot, I went. Got all dressed up and everything." You let out a humor less snort, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt, 

"There was bottomless champagne. Made me feel fancy and I drank a lot. I think he made sure of that. Then when I was too drunk to make my way home by myself, he took me back to his apartment and... he raped me."

You shivered thinking back on that night, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. Despite the fact that John's shirt practically went down to your knees, you felt as though you were naked and on display in front of John. You couldn't look at him, you couldn't meet those sad brown eyes. They'd be full of pity, horror, disgust, questioning why you hadn't told him. You were asking yourself that. It was out of you now, no longer sitting at the bottom of your belly and filling you with constant dread. 

"Who was it. Who did this to you."

John wasn't giving you a question, he was giving you an order.

"Donny Groves. I haven't seen him since I ran out of his apartment."

He tried to make his fist clenching conspicuous, not wanting to frighten you anymore. He'd heard that name, Groves was growing more prominent as a producer. On top of being a rapist, of course.

"(yn), I'm so sorry." He murmured, not sure of what else to say. 

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling, "It's not your fault. You've helped a lot, actually. You make me feel safe."

"You are safe. You're safe with me. He'll never- no one, will ever hurt you again." His voice broke, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. His touch was light as a feather as he placed his hands on your shoulders, "And if that bastard so much as looks in your direction again, I'll beat him, I swear I'll-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry for ruining your night." You said softly, placing your hands on his face. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaning his forehead against your's, his rage dissipating.

"You didn't ruin anything, love, it's alright."

“Except that I did,” You groaned, leaning back against the headboard and dropping your head in your hands, “I knew that you’d want to have sex tonight and I thought I could do this - I wanted to do this, I’ve been working up towards it - but I-I-I don’t know, I ruined it.”

John blinked, watching you retreat back into yourself for a moment. He crawled over to you and settled beside you on the bed, close enough for your shoulders to touch. He reached over and took your hand in his, looping his fingers around your’s. 

“There’s more to relationships - to our relationship - than sex. It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable with having sex yet, we don’t have to do that yet.” He reassured you gently, “I feel better being able to help you than making you feel uncomfortable. Alright?”

You locked eyes with him, allowing the feeling of warmth to wash over you when his soft brown eyes met your’s. His expression was meaningful and you could tell that he wasn’t giving you moot. 

“Alright. It honestly just feels a little better finally telling someone.” You whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. John hummed, sending a buzz through your body. 

“Anytime you need to talk about anything. I know I’m a bit of a dud but I’m all ears. And I’ll say it again, no one is going to lay a finger on you so long as I can help it.”

For the first time since you were attacked, you were able to relax. John was safe, he was your safety and your comfort. You could trust him not to hurt you or let anyone else hurt you, even when the two of you were constantly in the spotlight. 

“I love you, John.”

It was going to be a long and difficult road to recovering from what happened, if you ever did actually recover. You had been badly hurt and scarred. But so long as you had John by your side, then you would be okay. 

“I love you too, (yn). More than anything.”

It will be okay. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Five

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Dudes, real talk. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Your support on this particular endeavor is just mindblowing and I love you guys so much (no this isn’t the end or anything I’m just in my feels right now). This installment has a monologue in it that I'm really, really stupid proud of. I hope you guys like it. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vague depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

You thought you heard someone running, heavy boots pounding hard on the ground. Who even has the energy for that, you wondered idly.

Oxygen abruptly flooded back into your helmet and you inhaled on instinct, hacking and wheezing. The bayonet twitched roughly, making you sob out before some of the pressure on the blade was relieved. 

"There. Detached it from the fucking thrower. You still with me, gentle soul?" Ezra, it was Ezra, talking loudly, tapping your helmet and seeming relieved when you barely opened your eyes once more. "I'm goin' to stabilize the bayonet, you understand me? We can't remove it or we'll do more damage. Have to stabilize with the patcher cream."

"Told y...you to...leave--" you gasped, grabbing desperately at his shoulder. "Miss the--sling...back…"

"Kevva was a martyr, you know." Ezra said suddenly. "A little bit Prometheus, a little bit Jesus. Shot himself into space so others wouldn't fear to follow in his footsteps, to give countless souls the chance to be reforged in booster fire. Always found martyrdom more trouble than it was worth, myself. Living on struck me as the more attractive option." He murmured, struggling with your suit.

The only reply you could manage was more of a wet gurgle of confusion. What was he even talking about?

"Now, we as human beings are taught that self-sacrifice is the loftiest of moral pedestals to stand upon. We are taught that puttin' the needs of others above ourselves is the pinnacle, the quintessential desirous trait." He carried on in a pleasant tone, like this was a normal conversation the two of you were having as he poured the antiseptic liquid over your abdomen. 

It burned and stung. You wanted to scream but you couldn't draw the breath, settling for a pitiful whimper.

"I cannot tell you how many times I roundly railed against the purported divine will of that miserable martyr when I found myself trapped on this forsaken moon. The last thing I wanted was to be slain before I finally got to revel in my spoils, reduced to no more than a cautionary tale of avarice and loss in the annals of time. Lo and behold though, despite all my tribulations, it appears I was not the one in danger of being a sacrificial lamb."

The clear dome of his helmet thudded against your own, and he tried to time your breathing for a moment before he gave up and just clicked the trigger on the patcher gun. You cried out hoarsely in pain and he echoed you with a groan, shaking his head.

"Instead, that malevolent bearded bastard sent me a precious gentle soul, one more gracious and generous than any harvest, to shield my worthless body from the slings and arrows of this hostile moon. But I do not accept the debt of another's life so free and easy, especially not when it's counted against all my sins." He continued relentlessly, tossing the foam gun aside. "You can urge me until your holy heart stops, yet I refuse to indulge you in your blasted martyrdom." The word was furious, hissed out between his teeth. "You will live. If I have to drag you back from Kevva's greedy, graspin' hand myself, I damn well will. You have suffered Purgatory long enough, gentle soul." 

With that emphatic declaration he heaved you upright, draping your arm over his shoulder and beginning the slow, tortuous walk back to the mercenary rock jumper. "Ez--ra…" you choked, your legs barely supporting you. "C-an't--"

"Hush, gentle soul." He said firmly, struggling to distribute more of your weight onto his shoulders. "I would carry you if I trusted my arm, but regrettably I am not at full-test. All the same, I'm putting you into that fuckin' pod even if I have to drag you every accursed step of the way." 

Your fingers dug into his suit and you straightened up marginally. Just enough for him to get a better grip on your body. "M' gonna'-" you coughed, red droplets hitting the dome of your helmet.

"Keep your free hand on that blade, gentle soul. The less damage we do to your internal machinations, the better." 

You obediently curled your glove around the foam-crusted bayonet, stabilizing the protruding weapon with what little strength you had left. You stared down at his leg, trying to get your own steps to match up with his so he didn't trip over the tether tube. You weren't sure whether either of you would be able to get back up if that occurred.

"Almost there." Ezra announced, making your head jerk up. You had been wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, just focusing on keeping your feet moving. 

He dropped your hand onto one of the railings for the pod ladder and you obligingly tried to pull yourself into it after he gave you a boost, ending up essentially throwing your body forward and to the side on the floor of the pod.

Ezra staggered up behind you, fumbling to shift you from your fetal position. "In the seat, gentle soul, we need to strap you in. Can't have loose cargo when we take off." He muttered. 

Your head felt too heavy. You let it loll against your chest while he essentially manhandled you into the passenger seat and snapped the harness around you as best as he could. "M'sorry…" Your voice was barely audible through your helmet. "Can't..."

"You manage those lungs of yours, don't worry about me." He replied tersely, yanking off his helmet and then tearing at the latches on your own. "You just keep breathin'. We'll be out of this in no time, gentle soul, no time at all." 

You nodded dazedly after he pulled the helmet off over your head. "Thank…"

"Hush, damn it." Ezra rasped, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Hush. Save your energy and keep that bayonet steady. We'll be on that freighter in a tick. Get you to a proper med bay." His voice trembled.

You were vaguely aware that he had strapped in beside you. There was the soft rustle of manual pages, then the deafening rattle of the pod boosters, the thrum of the engines as it broke the atmosphere. Light from Bakhroma's sun poured in through the triangular windows overhead, all but blinding you. 

Ezra weakly stripped your glove and then clasped your fingers across the center console as the freighter appeared, spindly arms of pods hanging suspended in the brilliant green and navy halo of the surrounding cosmos. "We have at last been delivered from our toilsome strife." He sighed. "Better days beckon us onward, gentle soul." He raised your hand to his lips, and you felt the brush of his facial hair when he kissed your open palm.

...

You were unsure of how much time had passed. You thought you were being removed from the pod, something about getting rushed through the triage protocols. 

An oxygen mask was snapped down over your face, the whirr of an intraosseous needle reaching your ears. Conversations around you faded in and out, random voices discussing your condition. 

Where was Ezra?

"If that bayonet had gone half an inch deeper-"

"I suggest you apply the brakes on that particular intellectual locomotive." You felt your fears ebb at the familiar sound of his drawl. "We are running on precious little sleep and I must confess to an unhealthy inclination towards impatience when I am deprived of my slumber. Now, my individual trauma can wait until you have available staff, but their wound will fester if it is left much longer." A large hand rested on your forehead, shielding your half-open eyes from the fluorescent lighting. "Take care of their potential pneumothorax, doctor, and I will be as docile as a lamb."

"Ez…" you whispered.

"Still tryin' to palaver? Gentle soul, now is not the time for idle conversation." His hand stroked your forehead as he soothed, "Rest now. We did it. You did it." 

With his assurance, you closed your eyes.

...

You were confined to a rehabiter chamber for what felt like a short eternity as the freighter made its laborious way back to Central, Puggart Bench and the overcrowded wards that dotted the outskirts.

All you had left physically to remind you of your ordeal was a slow-healing wound on your abdomen and muscles that felt like they would never stop aching. You had one hundred percent overdone it and, if the resident freighter physician had anything to say regarding the matter, you were incredibly lucky to be alive.

The freighter's lung scrubber wasn't exactly on par with the level of sanitation either you or Ezra needed, so you were kept on it at all times until you could be transferred to the Puggart Bench medicog. You were grateful to be weathering the travel in the freighter's dingy med bay, as strange as that was to say. You weren't sure how long it would be before you could travel in a pod without feeling deeply apprehensive.

Once dropped at Puggart, you barely even got to wave at Ezra (he waved back with a drowsy grin from beneath the oxygen tent) before you were whisked away to a different room and hooked up to something a little more high-test. 

Fully purging the dust took literal days of treatment. The preliminary scans of your lungs revealed what looked like thick, puffy cotton balls in the place of usual bronchioles. You could only imagine how bad Ezra's lungs must be if that was what yours were like.

The rest of your body continued to arduously heal. You spent the hours of solitary treatment quietly drawing on your memo pad. Once that ran out of pages, you began to save the napkins that came with your Pastors slurry. A kind orderly found you an abandoned clipboard and you would balance it on your knees to draw for as long as you were able before your stomach began to protest.

You did your best to not think about the Bakhroma Green moon. It was difficult, but you tried. The lushly poisonous foliage, the Queen's Lair, Damon-

Your sleep was fitfully restless, either due to the lingering pain of your wound or the nightmares that hounded you. You were unsure of the last time you had truly enjoyed a good night's sleep.

Once you had been off the scrubber for a full week, Ezra came to visit. You almost didn't recognize him sans the bulk of his suit and helmet, but the brilliant blond Mallen streak that jutted mischievously out from his right temple removed all doubt. He looked much better, which was to be expected. Clean food and fresh air had done him wonders.

"Gentle soul!" He exclaimed warmly upon entering your cubicle, his voice rasping slightly, "all those days of good behavior paid off. Your jealous warden has finally deemed me worthy of entry into your domain." 

"Good to see you too, Ezra." You replied with a smile, raising an eyebrow at the flowers he carried. "I won't take up much of your time, obviously you've got places to be." What was that weird pang in your chest? Were you jealous? Why would you be jealous? 

"Your modesty, while one of your finest qualities, wounds me deeply. These are for you, gentle soul." Ezra placed a hand over his heart, bowing grandly as he presented you with the bouquet. 

"F-For me? Oh." You felt a little ashamed of your strange jealousy now, fumbling to take the flowers from him. "These are so beautiful, you...you didn't have to, you know." You murmured, burying your nose in the soft petals. 

"What better way to celebrate you bein' on the mend?" He inquired incredulously, pulling up the chair beside your bed. 

"I'm kind of surprised you're still here, honestly." You confessed. 

"Whyever for?"

"Well I just...I assumed you would have set back out in search of the next big thing." You twiddled your fingers, keeping your eyes on the flowers. 

"I am full of surprises, I suppose. Oh! And in that vein." Ezra tugged free a long, flat box from inside the (obviously very new) blazer he wore. "Another surprise."

The box was wrapped simply in plain paper and twine, a bit like all your sketchpads had been. "Ezra-" you began to protest. 

He waved off your words though, gesturing impatiently for you to rip off the paper. "I have been burstin' at the seams to give this to you, gentle soul. Do not make me wait one iota longer, I implore you."

Laughing a little at his enthusiasm, you obliged. Your laughter caught in your throat as you turned the brightly-colored box over, the graphics on the front proudly announcing the contents. "This...Th-This is…" You stammered, swallowing hard. "I...Ezra-"

"It's the draw-pad! Y'know, the one we discussed. Brand new, hot off the line." Ezra looked insanely pleased with himself, fidgeting in the seat. "I saw it and I knew you needed it."

"Ezra, this is too much." You tried to sound like you disapproved, but you were relatively certain your fingers reverently tracing the brilliant logo gave you away. Just the box alone looked so crisp, the edges still sharp instead of crushed in and rounded with age.

"Now, this gift does come with a request." He drawled from his spot beside your bed. You glanced up, that old wariness creeping back in. "I want you to familiarize yourself with this tool. Not sure how long it'll take. I have faith in your tenacity and ability to adapt, however. Once you're confident in your skill, I would be most obliged if you would consider a solicitation of partnership. " 

"Part...nership?" You repeated, thoroughly confused.

Ezra nodded. "Yes, gentle soul. I am penning a semi-fictitious memoir and it would add a certain...gravitas if your sketches graced the pages as well, you understand."

You fairly erupted with excitement, "I would love to!" Your enthusiasm jerked to a sudden stop as you remembered just where you were, and how much debt you were probably in. "But I...I can't." You finished sadly, stroking the brightly-colored illustrations on the front of the draw-pad box one last wistful time before you pressed it back into his hands. "I'm sorry Ezra, I need to hurry up and heal so I can hurry up and find another job, work through paying off this treatment bill--"

"Gentle soul, I don't think you have a full grasp of your situation." Ezra interjected. "You are an incredibly rich individual." You stared at him, not entirely registering his words. "Have you truly forgotten just how much of the Queen your deft little hands plundered?"

"That's not mine, that's y-"

"Kevva above, gentle soul. If not for your steady skinnin' and de-blisterin', we wouldn't have secured a damn thing." Ezra leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers. "I turned a handsome profit as well, mind you. I am quite comfortably off with my harvest as it is. But you, gentle soul, you…" He cleared his throat. "I took the liberty of arrangin' an account for you while you were indisposed."

"There was enough for an account?" You squeaked. 

Ezra's laugh sounded raw. "The wonder in your eyes! I wish you could see yourself. Give me a moment, I'll pull up the numbers." He had apparently gotten one of those new, touchscreen Servs. He didn't even need a cable! You watched apprehensively as he tapped away at the tablet, swiping through a few menus. 

When he tilted the screen to show you your account, you were relatively certain you had gone into shock. You knew your mouth was opening and closing, but you couldn't seem to form any words.

"I daresay you may be able to afford your hospital bill." The man said dryly after watching you gawk for several long minutes. "And perhaps a few meager indulgences on top of that."

"That's...that can't be right." You whispered, reaching out to touch the numbers. Ezra chuckled when your clumsy fingers accidentally brought up another menu, the older man easily dismissing it. 

"It is indeed correct, gentle soul. The exchange was the cleanest I've ever done, and sported the highest rates I've ever encountered. It seems we returned from the Bakhroma Green in the nick of time, in more ways than one." 

"Ezra, that's...I-I've never even dreamed of having so many points. I…" you trailed off, biting your lip. Tears welled up in your eyes and, for the first time since Damon had been killed, you started to cry in earnest.

Ezra's hand rested on your arm after a moment and you let yourself be eased into his embrace, sobbing against his shoulder. "Steady now, gentle soul. You just let it all out. It's over, you understand?" He soothed, cupping the back of your head. "Over and done with. Your perdition is at its end. You are free from those terrible burdens." 

"I just...this doesn't even feel real." You hiccupped. "I feel like I'm g-gonna' wake up in that pod all over ag-gain."

"I know that sensation all too well. My sleep is poor, my dreams fraught with dark recollections." Ezra admitted quietly. "Safety and stability are luxuries I have not been able to afford for many years. Now that I have them, I am...unsure of what to do with them." He sighed, his chin resting on the top of your head. "We have endured so much worse than having a little good fortune, yet upon bein' confronted with it, we do not feel worthy."

You nodded into his shoulder. It was no surprise that he would know exactly how to put into words what you had been feeling. You jolted abruptly when you realized which shoulder you were molesting. "Oh! Your arm, I'm so-"

"Don't you fret, gentle soul." He released you and carefully slid his arm out of his blazer, the barest wince betraying him as he flexed the limb freely. "I'm on the mend, with a...zeal I did not realize I possessed. The matron in charge of my circulatory rehabilitation seems hell-bent on gettin' me to break a sweat." Ezra sounded rueful. "I'm just glad I can breathe unaided once more. I'll never take my lungs for granted ever again."

...

You doused the eggs with the brilliant orange sauce, shoveling a forkful into your mouth and groaning in appreciative delight. 

"Now normally, condiments are a compliment to the dish." Ezra delicately gestured at your orange-stained plate with his fork. "With you however, condiments appear to be the main course." He teased. Ezra had offered to take you out for breakfast on the morning of your release, he called it a daring escape from the confines of modern medicine. Hence your current locale. You had, however, insisted that the two of you split the bill.

"After so long eating Pastors Calori-pouches and bits bars, I...I need the color just as much as I need the flavor, y'know?" You mumbled around your mouthful. "My tastebuds are all brand new again."

"I meant no disrespect, gentle soul." Ezra reached across the table with a paper napkin and you jerked back on reflex, laughing awkwardly as you tried to play off your sharp reaction. He cocked his head, eyebrows drawn quizzically tight. "I said I would not ask, and I will not break that promise." He murmured, tucking the napkin into your limp hand instead. "If ever there is anything I can do though, anything I can say to...to ease these burdens you carry on your body, all you need do is ask."

This was far too serious of a topic to be discussing in a greasy diner with bright orange hot sauce dripping off your chin. 

Ezra skewered a bite of flapjack with his fork, dipped it in the vibrant condiment that smeared your dish and then popped it into his mouth. You gawked at him as he chewed, his eyes idly roaming the diner. You could take the man out of the communal mining canteen, but you couldn't take the communal mining canteen out of the man, you supposed. You remembered all too well the stands worth of others pilfering off your own tray.

"I know you are no doubt eager twice over to get your mitts on my draft and begin your creative process, but I must insist we allow you the time to reacclimate to city livin'." He changed the subject deftly, his fingers drumming on the scarred diner table as he spoke. "Elsewise you may just end up sealin' yourself into a studio like a cask of Amontillado and drawin' the day away." His eyes wandered back to your face. "Have you given any more consideration to which ward you might prefer to hang your hat in?" 

You gulped down a bite of toast before shaking your head. "I...I looked through the listings two days ago but I don't...I mean, I know I can afford to, but…" you trailed off. 

"Livin' alone holds no allure." Ezra's tone was sympathetic. He steepled his hands on the tabletop. "Permit me to suggest an alternative, gentle soul." You inclined your head. "We are two wandering drifters that, through sheer grit and a healthy sprinkling of providence, have managed to slog through hell together and survive without growing to loathe each other's company." 

You stared at him blankly, sponging the sauce off your chin. Ezra settled back in the booth, his body language enviably relaxed. 

"I am more than willin' to open my humble abode to you. For a few stands or simply until you find yourself despising my lugubrious company." He held up a hand as you opened your mouth. "I offer without any malice or intent of predation, gentle soul. I know that the return to non-floater spaces is not often an easy one, and I strongly suspect that you have been preyed upon in the past."

"I know you're not like that." You blurted out, flushing immediately afterwards.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "I am grateful you don't lump my gregarious self in with the refuse, gentle soul."

"I just...I mean you've done so much for me already." You continued helplessly. "I'm in your debt, Ezra. By a lot."

"Nonsense." He scoffed. "Without you, we never would have escaped the Green! If we are to speak of debts and debtors, I must reason that I am still in yours. Shooting me would have been a ludicrously simple task, as I pointed out when we were still in that Kevva-forsaken place. Never mind the steady-handed salvage of my arm, your heroic duel with Inumon-"

"Oh yes, nothing more heroic than getting three-quarters killed by a grungy Krebine bayonet." You interrupted him dryly. "While hopped up on Brism."

Ezra chuckled. "Modest as ever!" He quickly sobered, his eyes serious. "My lodgings are more than adequate to house another individual, should you decide to grace me with your presence."

...

You didn't really have any possessions, which made your move relatively straightforward. All you had was your helmet, your suit, your underclothes and the contents of the pockets of said suit. Mercifully, everything had been decontaminated, so you didn't have anything to fear from throwing your familiar kit back on.

"I will offer you a change of clothes, but! We must venture out and acquire you new attire at your earliest convenience." Ezra insisted, already rummaging through his laughably barren closet even as you protested. "I doubt you wish to eternally linger in my dubious, threadbare garb." He suddenly stopped, snapping his fingers. "Wait. No. Kevva, we can order on the Serv. Unless you prefer the torment of physical fitting rooms?" He queried with a grimace, making you laugh.

You found yourself curled up on the couch several hours later, clad in one out of his two 'casual' shirts and your thermal leggings. You held the Serv tablet carefully in your hands as Ezra swiped through page after page of various clothing, the precocious man enthusiastically supporting any item you expressed interest in. 

"This will at least tide you over until you feel more comfortable wanderin' the streets of the Pug again. We should also find you some underthings and socks." He mused, tapping the appropriate area on the screen to bring up the search option. "I'll leave you to that, gentle soul." You hesitantly took over from him and he rose from the couch, stretching with a quiet groan. "Tea? I feel inordinately cozy right now." He offered cordially. 

"Mmhm." You nodded, a little distracted by the waves of choices available to you. Granted, at this stage all you needed were a few essentials. Undergarments that would hold up in the wash, good socks to ward off the chill. "Should I get shoes too, or wait until I go out for that?" You called.

"I feel it would be prudent to dally on that particular front." Ezra drawled from the kitchen. "It's best to ensure a proper fit in person if at all possible. Though, I hardly need to tell you that." He stuck his head back out through the doorway after a moment. "Toiletries tab should be the second to last on the right."

"I mean, I took the toothbrush from the hospital so I'm probably fine for-" His raucous laughter interrupted your reasoning and you scowled at him, uncertain of what could be so funny. 

"You've got more funds than most people would see in six lifetimes, and yet you purloined the toothbrush from your hospital room." Ezra managed to say after a few moments. "Floater habits die hard, eh gentle soul?"

Against your will, you felt giggles bubbling in your chest and you huffed out a breath, trying to ward them off. "Shush, you...you!" You retorted lamely, losing your battle with your own laughter. "Stop judging me, your moral high ground is subterranean."

"Subterranean, I like that!" Ezra exclaimed, his eyes shining with good humor as he passed you a plain white mug full to the brim with tea. "I'll have to pilfer that for my illustrious tale. Give you full credit, naturally."

You smiled at him over your mug. "You'd better."

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "I am a man of subterranean high ground, true enough. But I am a man of my word!"

Part Six

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 12

Amor condusse noi ad una morte.

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself back where she started.

Notes: Well, this chapter gets a bit dark; a bit intense, but we get a little peek into Steve’s delusions and more of his fragile temperament. I hope you all enjoy this. And please, brace yourself for this chapter. I don’t wanna spoil it but it’s creeping up on the dark.

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

- 

Cuffed. Caged. Caught by Steve Rogers. The room seemed to shrink as he he entered. You looked to the officers on either side of him. Why were you the one in custody? Interrogated? Your heart raced as you realized your dire mistake. You should have known. Had trusting the man before you not taught you anything? There was nothing, no one in this world you could depend on.

"I apologize for my fiance's behaviour." He turned and shook Gowon's hand, then the other officer's. Her badge read Dawson. You scowled and pressed yourself against the table. "With your permission, I'd like a moment alone…" He lowered his voice but you could hear him still. He wanted you to. "She's stressed. She just needs some comfort, you know?"

"Of course, Mr. Rogers," Dawson was more than happy to agree and Golon gave a sympathetic look. 

The former saviour of New York and defender of humanity still wore his mantle of charity. Why look at him; he loved a madwoman. Tore himself away from his work just to bail her out. You were speechless. What could you say? What was your word against his?

You chewed the inside of your lip as the officers left you alone with your personal villain. Delivered you into the hands of the man you had sought refuge from. The door closed, a loud click sealed your fate. His smile slowly faded. His jaw squared and he rolled his shoulders. His cheek twitched and he stepped toward you. You flinched and he put on a show of softening his movements. You stared up at him defiantly as your teeth gnashed. You couldn't let him know how afraid you truly were.

"It's okay, honey, come on and sit." He turned you back to the metal chair and pushed you down by your shoulder. He took the chair across from you and pulled it around to sit next to you. He draped his arm over your shoulder. From the window, he would seem doting; protective even. "You know people are real worried about you."

He fumbled around in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a familiar item. Your phone still wore its holographic shell. He unlocked it and held it before you face. Your Facebook was open; your timeline active despite your forced disconnection. He slowly began to scroll through the well wishes. Talia, several friends you hadn't talked to since college, your mother even. Mixed in were a dozen congratulations until finally he paused at a photo you had never seen. A photo you had never taken and yet there you were, smiling happily beside Steve Rogers; a perfectly blissful couple. Below was a message written in your voice but not by you.

‘To all my friends and family, I must apologize. For the last year I have been distant; standoffish. I could blame it on work or other everyday obligations but I think it better that I come clean. 

One year ago, I met Steve and the connection was instant. We fell in love entirely and were selfish as we dove head deep into each other. It's gone fast but we can't wait any longer to announce it. We're engaged!

To you all, I thank you for standing by me. It had been a very big secret to keep and I have found planning the whole affair very stressful. That being said, I will be stepping back from my work and online to focus on keeping myself healthy as Steve and I put this all together. 

We will announce the date soon and invitations will follow!’

"What did you do?" You recoiled in disgust; disbelief. With your arms bound, you nearly fell right of his grasp. "You're insane!"

He visibly bristled. He blinked and raised the phone once more. He opened up your texts and thumbed through them. "You're mother sends her regards. She was rather upset that you didn't tell her sooner but I cleared all that up."

Your eyes widened as his veneer of calm barely withheld the anger beneath. "Do it," You challenged in a hiss. "I can tell you want to. You want to spank me again, don't you? Hmm? You can't control yourself can you." 

You sneered at him, waiting for him to snap. Hoping. If he bent you over and smacked your right here, surely the police would never let him take you. The tic in his jaw flared and his arm tightened around you. He leaned in so that his lips were right beside your ear.

"You're in big fucking trouble." His whisper made you shiver. He leaned back and reached up to touch your hair as he raised his voice. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let's just get you home and safe. We can push the wedding back."

He rubbed your back as he stood and crossed to the door. He knocked and Dawson reappeared. 

"I hope she didn't trouble you guys too much. I know you work hard out there. I'm real sorry, she's stressed… she's sick. If it's permissible, I'd like to just take her home. I don't think another trip to the hospital is necessary."

He was lying through his teeth and he was oh so good at it. You hung your head in defeat as you listened to his elaborate fabrication. He had imagined a whole life with you and even printed receipts. You were fucked. 

"Of course, Mr. Rogers. You've done this city an amazing service," Dawson preened, "We only wish you were still out there with us."

"When the time comes you just know. Can't be an Avenger and a husband." He said humbly, "Not a good one at least."

"You can take her." Dawson said softly. "Really, we understand. No harm, no foul."

You felt a tug at your wrists and the cuffs were freed with a twist of the key. Steve was once more at your side as he helped you to your feet. You shot him vilest look you could muster.

"Take care of yourself, dear," Her tone was laced with sickly honey. You kept your jaw set and ignored her as Steve ushered you past.

His arm went around your back as he marched you through the station. You felt as if every eye was watching you. Each person a witness to your betrayal. You were tense against him as you stepped out into the sunlight. If not for the situation, you would've basked in it. 

How long had it been since you had felt natural warmth? Why had you not enjoyed it earlier? Why had you been such an idiot?

He led you to a car in the enclosed garage attached to the station and opened the door. You drew away from him and he caught your wrist. "Get in." He growled. You twisted your wrist and he tightened his grip. "I won't hesitate to put you in the trunk. So get in. Now!"

"I hate you." You snarled. "I hate you." You brought your fist up and it bounced of the bottom of his jaw. "Let me go!" 

His winced just slightly and grabbed your other wrist. He raised them over your head and released them. He bent and scooped you up. He draped you over his shoulder. He held you with one arm and reached into his pocket, the doors and trunk clicked. He rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk. He dropped you inside, your head barely missing the metal. 

He snapped closed the lid and you beat against it desperately. You heard his footsteps and the door; you felt his strength as he slammed it shut. The engine kick-started and you clawed at the interior until your hands stilled in futility.

You dropped your head, squished into the tight box. You grunted in frustration and your eyes burned. This couldn't be happening. You had gotten out. You'd gone to the police. You had felt freedom on your lungs. All this and you were to be dragged back to where your started.

-

When the trunk opened, you kicked out only to have your foot caught. You were torn from the car as Steve seethed. His hot breath surrounded you as he forced you across the tarmac. You struggled, heels scraped on the pavement as you neared the knobless door. You tried to keep yourself from within as you kicked your legs out but missed the doorframe. He shoved you through and you barely caught yourself from falling down the stairs as he released you. 

As the door closed with a deafening clang, you were snatched off your feet. Steve had you over his shoulder once more. Your stomach leaned heavily against his shoulder as he descended. You reached for the railing, the walls, but your fingers slid over them helplessly. The door at the bottom was open still, the knob on the floor. He had not yet been home.

He carried you through the hall and into the dining room. He grumbled as he passed through the kitchen and saw the disjointed window. He entered the bedroom and slammed the door with only his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you bounced so violently you bit your tongue. Before you could rise, he was on top of you. You batted at him with your hands but he seemed not to notice your struggles.

He grabbed the front of your dress and tore it open, the buttons flying across the room in all directions. “Get off!” You grunted as you tried to stop his hands. His eyes were dark; endless. He straddled you so that you couldn’t move, his breath hot and heavy as he pulled your dress down your arms. When it was at your waist, your hands were trapped in the fabric as his began to explore your bare stomach. “Steve! Stop!”

His hands settled on your breasts and he kneaded them roughly. He tweaked your nipples through the seamed brassiere and ground his pelvis against you. He groaned, a shiver rose through him as the bulge in his pants grew. You whimpered as helplessness weighed you down and lifted your head. You dropped it heavily with a sigh. His hands stilled just beneath your neck and he stared down at you with seething breaths.

“Stay!” He pointed at you, his finger almost touching your nose. His other hand pressed against your throat and threatened to squeeze. “Don’t move, honey.”

As he climbed off, you realized how terribly you were shaking. Your entire body trembled and you couldn’t have moved if you tried. You had never been so entirely terrified. The door opened and he wasn’t gone more than a minute. You looked up just as he returned and he held a large black chest. He set it down on the plush love seat and opened it. He pulled straps from within and your blood surged.

You sat up and untangled your hands from the dress. As he neared, you  rolled across the bed. You knew exactly what he meant to do. You didn’t make it to the door as he blocked you from it with his broad figure. He reached behind him and slammed it again. He walked towards you wordlessly until you were forced to retreat and the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell onto it once more and he grabbed your ankles.

He flipped you easily, your body twisting painfully as you tried to resist. He wrapped a strap around your left ankle and secured it to the bedpost. Next he tied your right, then your wrists. He reached under you and ripped open the rest of your dress. He bunch it up and let it fall to the floor as he stepped back, admiring your form spread-eagle and face down on the bed.

You turned your head as he returned to the chest and reached within once more. He revealed a leather whip and you cursed. He slapped it across his palm as he faced you. 

“I told you, there will be punishment for misbehaviour,” He growled. He rolled your panties down around your thighs as far as they would go. He rested the leather against your ass. “Now, you will take it and learn to be a good wife. And after, you can think on your lesson.”

He lifted the whip and it came down with a poisonous bite. You yelped and the tears rose instantaneously. He repeated the action, again and again. You couldn’t have kept count if you had tried. You sobbed into the bedspread as you gripped the straps that restrained you. He stopped as your ass and thighs were raw. You were certain there was blood too.

You heard the whip fall to the floor. You opened your eyes and watched as he unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock and began to stroke. You closed your eyes, the sounds of his self-pleasure rising in groans. The bed slouched beneath him as he knelt on the mattress beside you, his cum spilled onto your ass and you turned your face to the bed.

His large hand rubbed his cum into your tortured flesh and he purred. He pulled your panties up over your damp skin and patted your ass. He untied you, your limbs falling limp against the bed. He moved your body for you. He dragged you across the bed and stood you up. You swayed as a sear went through your ass and legs. He supported you with one arm as he angled you around the room.

He grabbed the back of the sofa and pushed it aside so that it faced the bathroom door. He kicked the rug away with his foot and bent to lift the concealed hatch in the wooden floorboards. You began to panic as he guided you down the stairs ahead of him. A small room was hidden beneath with shadowy forms; a narrow bed, a sink, a small toilet. A cell worse than that at the station.

“Go, or I’ll let you fall,” He snapped. You looked at him in shock. “Go on, dear.” All his false affection, his delusional love, had gone.

You peered back down into the secret room and he let you go. You barely kept yourself from slipping down the stairs. You descended a step at a time and looked back up at him as you reached the bottom. He frowned and shook his head.

“You did this to yourself,” He said as he closed the hatch and all went black around you. 

The locked clicked and you heard his footsteps as he walked away. You held onto the steps and slowly sank to your knees. You screamed until it caught in your throat and hung your head. You wept until your head pounded and your chest knotted. 

What had you done?

+

tags:  @areubeingserved @primordialhandmaidan @brigidwolf @heyiamthatbitch @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @infernalbarnes @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @lilithhellfire @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @spaghettirogers @buckycaptspideypool @bethanyzed @biasedtitties @bbyspiiice @thoughtlesstales @glitterypinkkitty @selinbaskaya @vitamingrant @dil-emmuh @metalarmlover @queenoftheunderdark @lilly-evans-and-the-kpop @captainfreecandyvan @collette04 @yagurlrosie @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @secretlyactivated @roses-and-absinthe @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @celestiial-angel @alphabloodfur @xdatbitch @quant-um-fizzx @peaceloveyesh @bodhi-black @captainarp @booklover240 @kawaiiloverofanimu @everything-is-awesomesauce @holylulusworld @lemonnggrab @kiwihoee @aekr @twizzziee @karabear0091 @marvelmaree @amelia-acero @marveltookovermylife @praziameia @steadypetty @spn-marvel-nerd @kissedbythedarkness @broadway-or-noway @marvel-fan23 @hannahxem @noteyebox @bemyvalentineforeverandever @amazonian-strap-queen @britishpopsicle @breezy1415  @beautiful-and-strange  @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @kxllyxnnx @calspixie @imdiegohargreeves @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-damn-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @nerdypinupcrystal @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @stuckybarton @heartbeats-wildly @tea-with-seb @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel  @heartislubbingdubbing @couldntbedamned @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @wintersoldier1017 @fandomkolors @supernaturaldean67 @biba3434 @brokensunflowersworld @basementcafe @imkloeyjarvis @periodtcevans @praziameia @givemoimyuwusback @thethortoisein221b @averyrogers83 @sagechanoafterdark @roseplusess @hollandhours

[jjmichie]

The Day I Touched Eddie Vedder’s Ankle

March 25, 1992

It was cold, as March in Minnesota tends to be.  

But this March was colder than usual.  Brian was gone.  And I had a horrible case of mono that I had succumbed to immediately after he dumped me, which led me to drop the majority of classes I was taking that semester.  My financial aid situation was now a mess but I was too sick to go to work and my money supply was dwindling.  I had pushed my friends away.  I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone or go anywhere or do anything.   

It had been this way for over a month.  I spent long days in bed, with barely the energy to eat or even sit up.  My muscles and my head and my whole body hurt whenever I tried to move or even think.  I couldn’t distinguish whether it was from the sickness or loneliness or aching for Brian but it didn’t matter.  I just knew everything hurt and everything felt dark, cold, empty, dead . . . hopeless.    

But sitting on the nightstand next to my bed were two tickets to an all ages show at First Avenue.  Pearl Jam.  It was coming up soon.  I really didn’t want to go.  I was supposed to be going with Brian.  We were supposed to go together.  We were supposed to BE together.  But the tickets continued to sit there, mocking me, reminding me of what my world had been just a short month ago, but now of what was gone, what was lost, and reminding me of how badly I had fucked it all up.  

But I also hated to let the tickets go to waste.  I had paid for them.  So, as a reluctant Plan B, I convinced my sister to join me.  She was older, but always seemed younger.  The kind of sister you end up scooping up off the floor of a closet at the end of the night when you bring her to a party, or who takes off on a motorcycle with a random guy she doesn’t know. or disappears for so long in a shopping mall that you end up freaking out and contacting mall security . . . but anyway.   

Night of the event.  I made myself pull out my standard rock concert clothes, which consisted of knee high black suede boots and a long black velvet jacket thing, which was tapered at the waist then flared out into a skirt in the most lovely feminine way.   It was adorned with brass buttons down the front, and two in the back. I loved that jacket.  It usually cheered me up every time I put it on.  But this time it didn’t.  This time I was just going through the motions.  

When we got inside the already-packed venue, I could immediately feel Brian.  I swear I could smell him.  I knew he was there.  There was no way he would miss this.   But he was upstairs, in the balcony where 21-year-olds were allowed, not corralled on the main floor, in the kiddie pen, where I was humiliatingly sequestered.  I let my head turn towards the balcony, let my gaze drift up there, as if I might see him.  As if he might see me and actually come down.  

Scrunching ourselves as best we could onto the main floor, my sister and I tried to push our way towards the stage, but didn’t get very far.   In fact, not very close at all.  In my weakened state I just didn’t have the energy.  We ended up in the back of the room, near the sound board, more Mike-side than Stone-side, although at the time I didn’t know the difference between the sides.  I didn’t know their names yet.  

“Oh weird,” I commented to my sister, as I looked around us.  “Every single guy here is wearing a flannel shirt.”  

She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course they are,” she said in her big-sister voice. “That’s what they wear now.”  

I hadn’t realized the extent to which Pacific Northwest attire had already permeated the burgeoning grunge crowd in the midwest.  For some reason I thought me and the Record Store Boys were the only ones who knew about this.  But it was literally Every. Single. Guy.  in the room was wearing plaid flannel.  When had this happened?  I felt kind of stupid, as I realized I was looking WAY out of place in my velvet finery.  

And it was interesting to note the ratio of males to females.  Easily over 80 percent male.  And most of the females appeared to be tag-along girlfriends.  Me and my sister were definitely the minority.  Which is weird when you think about it.  Given how handsome everyone in the band was, why weren’t there more girls?  

But then they started to play.  

We stood still, as did everyone around us on the floor, completely captivated by the unbelievable power that was suddenly filling the room and pelting us like someone had fired off a flurry of rockets.  We watched the surreal energy on the stage, bouncing, whipping their hair, growling out song after song.  All I could think was  . . .  WHUT!!!??!!! 

Mostly my eyes were glued to the lead singer.  It was hard not to stare at him.  He just completely broke the mold of what your typical rock star guy was at the time.  But I also remember the rest of the band, that Jeff was wearing a cool hat and looked so solid and muscular, although I didn’t know at the time that his name was Jeff.  (The advantage of being Mike-side is that you get Jeff too!)  And I remember the guitarist on the other side smiling.  Smiling.  And the way the guitarist on my side was belting out solos!  My god!  

I recognized most of the songs, because Brian had given me a homemade cassette tape (I couldn’t afford a CD player), which had Ten on one side and Nevermind on the other and I played it endlessly.  At first I had gravitated towards Nirvana, and only listened to the other side because it was too much of a pain in the ass to hit rewind and wait wait wait for it to get back to the beginning.  Might as well let the other side play.  But then something happened.  Something changed.  And the more I listened the more I liked it.  The more Brian played it, whenever we were together, alone in his room, the more it became my favorite.  Our favorite. 

But then Pearl Jam began playing the opening chords of Black.  

Shit. 

No.  

Don’t do this to me.  

I was instantly back in his bedroom, the CD player going.  Brian and I had come to agree at some point that Black was the best song on the album.  It was our song.  The song we made love to.  We didn’t realize everyone else felt that way too.  But from the cheer rising from the sea of flannel, it was obvious that this was a favorite of everyone at First Avenue.  Brian.  Brian.  I screamed for him with my mind, begging for him to hear me in his mind, and then I couldn’t see the band or the flannel or anything any more because my eyes were blurred and tears were gushing down my face blinding me and I missed him so much and I knew he was right above me hearing this too, hearing this right now.  All the love gone bad . . . Was he thinking about me too?  Why wasn’t he coming down the stairs?  I couldn’t go up, but he could come down if he wanted to.  He must have known I was there.  Why was he letting me cry alone?  Why did he leave me?  Why did I let him?  Didn’t any of it even matter to him?  . . . in somebody else’s sky . . . 

And my stupid sister didn’t even notice, and neither did all the flannel-clad minions who were trying inappropriately to mosh to this song, unable to contain their passion, unconcerned and not deterred by the slow melodicness that clashed ridiculously with their movements. 

End.  Please let this end.  

It did.  When Black finally ended I stood there, hearing the next song and the next, but still feeling sort of numb, not bothering to wipe away the mascara that now dirtied my cheeks.  

But a short time later my attention abruptly shifted from my own sorrow back to the lead singer, who, to everyone’s surprise, was leaving the stage.  Making his way toward the railing of the stairs, he began climbing.  He was climbing up the railing, up towards the balcony.  And all the flannel-clads turned their backwards-baseball-capped heads upward in unison to follow his progress.  

Meanwhile the First Avenue security guys looked at each other and then began  inching closer, inching their way over to the railing, looking serious, looking concerned.  What was this guy doing?  

He was now up on the balcony, but he was OUTSIDE the railing, on the tiny piece of floor that extended beyond it, barely enough room for his boot.  He must have been, I don’t know, 30 or 40 feet above us all.  His arm was wrapped around the railing to hold himself in place, and he turned around and looked down at us.  

This is my most vivid memory of the show.  The look on Eddie’s face.  The unbelievably intense look of concentration he gave the crowd while he looked down from that perch. He looked only mildly scared.  But you could tell he was assessing us, visualizing what he was about to do, and judging exactly where to jump and seeking out those he could trust, literally making eye contact with some key dudes, the bigger, taller dudes, with their hands raised, communicating silently with only his eyes, making sure it felt right. 

Once assured of that, once assured he could trust them, he turned back around, facing the balcony and the railing  . . . 

 . . . and he let go . . .  

I know logically that Eddie’s body must have followed the laws of physics and fallen at the normal speed that humans fall when they fall, but it didn’t seem that way.  He seemed to float.  The fall seemed to take forever.  He drifted down, arms outstretched, eyes closed (although I couldn’t see his eyes, somehow I knew they were closed), so elegantly, so delicately, like a snowflake.  

. . . and landed softly and securely on the hands of the big dudes he had just vetted.  From there a swarm of hands seemed to rise up out of nowhere and wave like seaweed in an ocean and before I knew it the graceful ragdoll was floating towards us.  My sister and I both stretched as far as humanly possible to reach out and touch touch touch!  I felt my hand on his skin, right above the line where his white sock met his bare flesh. Wet  Hot.  Solid muscle.  Coursing with life.  Wow . . . But I could only touch him for a few seconds before he floated on, was passed on, passed back towards the stage.  

My sister and I both gasped at our hands, staring at them, and holding them out in front of us, giggling with glee, feeling so ridiculously groupie, and realizing we were acting as dumb as the Beatles fans we used to make fun of on TV.  But the guys around us seemed to be having the same reaction too. They were thrilled to have participated.  Many of them were high-fiving each other with the hand that just seconds earlier had been connected to their new hero.  

I didn’t realize it until later, but at some point during the crowd-surfing ceremony, all of my thoughts of the guy upstairs were forgotten.  I no longer felt lonely.  I no longer felt sick.  I no longer worried about my missed classes or my dwindling bank account.  I no longer cared that my outfit was out of place.  There was no where in the world I would rather be than right there. Right then. On the main floor.  Participating.  Hearing this mind blowing shit kicking fucking awesome too good to be real music.  And reliving the feel of the delightfully sweaty ankle that I had just helped to push along.  

The ankle was now safely back where it belonged, up on stage with the smiling guitarist and the cool hat and the power power power that the whole band was thundering out, filling the small venue with ungodly energy and life.  

And as I listened to it . . . I let go too.  

I let go of the memories, of the loss, the despair, the darkness, the hopelessness, and let the flannel forest envelop me.  The group moved as one, and I was part of it, leaning on them, letting them lean on me, swaying with them, riding wave after wave of bliss and feeling every word and note and chord and drum pedal kick.  I let go and trusted them to support me and lift me . . . just like Eddie had done on the balcony. 

When it was over and we finally had to leave, we carried the energy and the high with us.  Totally happy.  Totally alive.  

Things turned around after that.  

The snow melted.  The sky was less dark.  I resumed classes and doubled up during spring semester in order to graduate on time.  I was so inspired by McCready that I ramped up my own electric guitar playing abilities and joined a band.  We actually played at First Avenue ourselves about six months later.  Granted it was just “new band night,” and granted, we were pretty shitty, but still.  I stood exactly where Mike had been standing.  Before long I fell in love with the singer/songwriter in my band and we are still living happily ever after, together after all these years. 

So . . . thank you Pearl Jam.  Really.  Thank you.  That night gave me the jolt I needed to pull myself out of a horrible place and find the strength to take control of my life and build a happy future for myself.  And my life has turned out pretty fucking good.  Thank you.  You made a huge difference.   

[devilgirl101]

My Dirty Angel–reader x Yourboyfriend fanfic by devilgirl101

Author:Your boyfriend belong to @invertedmindinc/@yOurb0yfriend Also

Warning:this fanfic contains graphic Themes as suicide,stalking and sexual content noncon/con if you are tiggered by the following or you're underage do not read viewer Discretion is advised!

Chapter 1: my hell is a virtual novel nightmare/follow the light of...the tv?/hhhhuuuuhhh!?

Part:1

Hey i'm (y/n) (y/l/n) and i'm pretty sure i'm in hell well or is it limbo i can's fuckin' tell anymore i slouch at the counter resting my elbow on it as i wait for someone to either order a coffee with a complicated name or complain 'i didn't order this' 'you call this coffee' and i throw a sugar packet at 'em blah blah whatfuckingever and fuck this box stop copying what i'm thinking it dibbled out my exact thought as if to say 'fuck you you can't stop me' i give a heavy sigh of aggravation at my predicament did i fail to mention i'm dead, i'll explain exactly three mouths ago i was in a very bad place in my mind i guess you could say in life i was 'rather' depressed , disconnected , alone i felt as though i had no reason to live i was sure no one would miss me i know my brother wouldn't, my body was like it was on autopilot when i reach for my sleeping pills from the bathroom cabinet, unfortunately i wouldn't have the chance to off myself cause someone ultimately beat me to it, the only warning i got was a masked face in the mirror, it happened so fast i didn't even feel a thing, i may have been a 'tiny' bit distracted

when i awoke i was in a room i didn't recognize i gasped and scanned the bedroom in alarm, the wallpaper was white littered with little pink hearts, the closet had double doors that were a dark wood color, a midsized tv , a desk with a laptop that was also covered in hearts that definitely wasn't mine and the bed i was laying in wasn't familiar either it was purple with light purple to match the blanket i was wrapped in was a hot pink with dare i say it even more hearts i didn't have time to ponder where hell i was for the bedroom door swung open, revealing a woman i definitely definitely didn't recognize she had short dark hair a heart shaped face brown eyes a turned up nose plump lips and her body had a curvy shape to it and wearing some kind of waitress uniform that was red with white accents on the edges she had a sweet friendly smile on her face "good morning sleepy head "

"w-who are you!?"

she cast me an astonished look "are you kidding me roomie, it's me sally your roommate." putting her hands on her hips "are you feeling okay?" she asked her eyebrow rised "i-i'm not sure" i shakely answered then i noticed the oddist thing a large transparent rectanglar floating box that spelled out exactly what i said "hey what's this thing?" pointing at it as it copied me again "uh what thing?"

i pointed at it again "That thing" she look at me like i was losing my marbles i was starting to think i was , "i don't see anything, are you feeling okay?" she sounded concerned, i scratched my head unsure, what the hell was going on she took my hand pulled me to my feet

"com'on i made breakfest, you'll feel better after you eat something" as she guided me to what looked to be a living room where there was a couch a tv and a round dining table that a steaming pile of pancakes still hot the sight made my stomach growled "your welcome" she said condescendingly as she sat down fixing herself a plate i sat and proceeded to do the same may as well eat something, after the 4th or 6th pancake "i gotta get to work, you probably should too" checking her watch "huh work?" i blinked in confusion "uh yeah ? The coffee shop remember." looking very credulous at me i can only imagine how dumbfoundead my face was

"what's with you today and do not tell me you don't remember the way there either." she crossed her arms "no?" drewing invisible circles on the table with my finger "but just for fun where would i find it ?" her palm met her forehead and groaned and irritatingly explaned to me the location of said coffee shop and other places i asked as annoyed as she was explaining i was just as annoyed for asking her but each place she told me didn't sound familiar, the coffee shop was under the name 'woke up cafe'

"You all that?" she asked "i think so" pileing the new info in my head "good if you do get lost for 'fun' check your phone on map app" my phone ? I start searching my pockets for it "*sigh* it's on your nightstand" rolling her eyes "oh heh heh" scratching my head " sigh i gotta go now or i'll be late, your keys are in the bowel and remember to lock the door"

'blem' she was gone leaveing me with questions then answers, well i may as well go to this 'coffee shop' maybe i'll find someone i know there, maybe get some answers to why i'm living with this 'sally' and how am i working at this 'woke up cafe' cause i don't recall, am i suffering from amnesia is that why?

I only hoped someone anyone could tell me what's going on "sigh" oh whatever i went to retrieve 'my phone' from the nightstand the seemed to be free of any hearts till i saw a small baby one in the corner of the wood, the phone case was a light pink with black dots, well at least they're not hearts, maybe i got into one of my drunk stupors that thought 'hearts' that would explain the interior design

i shook my head questions for later i guess, sliding the phone in my pocket i felt around the other pocket for my thermos and took a sip i put it back walk back to the front door, now where did she say the keys were, oh right a bowl there near the door was a stand with a glass blue bowl it was seethough in middle laid a small set of keys after picking them up i noticed a large tag with my name and there were three keys in total the one that looked like a house key had a pink heart with the word 'home' etched in the metal

oh goody another heart i sighed again and slipped out the door

however i would not be prepared for what i would encountered outside.

The first thing i noticed as i grabbed the railing was the sky it looked off like it didn't even look like sky it was like a painter's impression of sky like a oilpainting i shook my head , did i hit my head or something, then i made the mistake of looking down, and was suddenly aware of how high i was and how low the ground looked below, how fuckin' high in the air am i ?! i turned to the door i came out of '3' followed by a dark smudge i placed my hand on the three lonely and filthy just like me ,i looked back to the ground below, maybe this just the third i hoped, i grimaced and slowly and carefully climbed down the stairs and counted from point A to point B, i took some more calming breaths and counted seven floors, oh christ on a stick why, why the 7th floors, i hate heights, am i being punished ? my feet finally met the sweet ground i gave a great sigh of relief

"ok no more fuckin' around" i pulled out 'my phone' for the directions sally told me about, hey has the grass alaways been this bright green? In fact everything else looked off as well, the colors were too vibrant, the sidwalk too perfect, the scenery too nice it was down right unnatural, maybe i'll see my doctor after this cause i think i'm loseing it more then usual as i looked at the box that won't dissipate i thought, i took a fast walking pace the walk on the sidewalk was too smooth as i took my steps, the sidewalk i remembered was jagged cracked and uneven this isn't righ- then i stumbled on one part of the concrete that wasn't quite leveled, okay that's a little better, i steadied myself, something caught my eye someone slumped against a building their back flushed the concrete wall his head and face were obscured by a dark hoodie head down giveing the impression off the air of depression his legs were sprawled out in front of him, is he alright i shook my head doesn't matter not my problem as i tried to continue walking my guilt came to bite me

(you're just gonna leave just like that he could be dying) i don't even know him or her, i was still unsure of their gender (that Should't matter ya know why don't you run into incoming traffic ya piece of shi-) i turned back not sure what i could do but i was gonna try anyway, i crouched down in front of him "hey are you alright?" his head was bobbing so i wasn't sure heard me i was about to ask again till came very shaky "i-i'm.....f-f-fine" he stuttered out his voice was so scratchy and hoarse like he hadn't spoken in years, i pulled out my thermos and held it out in front of him

"here drink this, don't worry it's just water" i waited for him to take it he shook his head "n-n-no t-thank y-y-you i-i'm f-f-fin-"

"you're not fine you sound like you were eating chalk just drink it you'll feel better, trust me" i wagged the container makeing the liquid slosh his head finally turned up at me i saw one dark blue eye widen at me "it's....you.." and something else i could't quite hear

"hmmm?" makeina a confused sound was about to ask what he said but then he took the water and chugs down every last drop wow shit he must've been more thirstier then i thought i proceeded to stand

" listen sorry to cut this short but i gotta get going"

i started turn "Wait!" he grabbed my wrist stopping me in my tracks "yes? What is it?" riseing my eyebrow at him

"w-what about y-y-your thing?" holding up the thermos and keeping his head down avoiding my gaze

"nah you keep it i got other ones" at least i hoped i did, and he looked like he needed it more then me

"y-you s-sure?"

"yeah" i tried walking away but i was being hindered

"could you um..let go now Please." he looked at his hand still clasped around my wrist "oh S—shit s-sorry" finally letting go i sighed and gave him a polite smile and i wave him goodbye

i made my way to a crosswalk where there a bus stop and i heard the wonderful sound of civilization i saw a man his back turned to me and he had a phone to his ear i absentmindedly bumped into him not paying attention he snapped around almost violently "WATCH WHERE You're going" he screeched "sorry i mean to-" i gasped and clasped my hands over my mouth at what i saw the man had no eyes, no nose, and no mouth to speak of, he didn't have a face in fact none of the people in the crowed walking ,talking and sitting at the bus stop also were faceless i started to hyperventilate "hey are you alright?" and in my panic i ran not sure where to i was so frighten that my barin just turned off i think one of 'em tried to touch my shoulder but i flinched away, oh god oh fuck i've lost it for real this time, what the hell is- "HEY LOOK OUT !!!" one of them screamed at me as i saw and heard a large bus it's lights flashing, oh god this is it, i shut my eyes and held my hands up anticipating the blow, but after a couple of minutes it never came i could't even hear the bus anymore actually i could't hear anything, not the bus,not the even the faceless people, just dead silence and my heavry breathing, i was still afraid so i slowly opened my eyes one at a time "what the hell?!" it was completely dark the bus, the street , the scenery , and the people were gone it was like somebody took all them away and left nothing but dark nothingness oh god was i haveing a episode?

"Hello is anyone there please...answer me" i called out but i was met with only more unsettling silence till i heard a very soft "Over here" I almost missed it sounded just like a child

i ran towards the direction it came from then i saw a soft glowing light that slowly got brighter the closter i got to it, was is that? When i got toe to toe to it, it took the shape of a small little girl she glowed as bright as a nightlight her eyes glowed green while the rest of her glowed a light yellow

"w-who are you?" i asked shakingly she made a sad sound and softly and sadly "you poor soul, you are trapped in a cage that's not your making, a prisoner of fate"

"what?" my voice came ghostly as she continued

"they must've caught you when you were just drifting, This truly is a unjust retribution that has been placed on your shoulders, your chances are almost none, but if i am able to reach you, there may be a possibility open to you"

yep it's official it was a long time coming but i've finally lost it

"You seem to not understand what i'm saying do you, please look upon this" with a wave of her hand a great big tv emerged from the ground

i stared at the screen not sure why all i could see was static at first but the picture slowly become clearer and clearer till i finally saw myself in my bathroom reaching inside the cabinet, oh yeah i remembered i was going to kill myself wasn't i? I watch myself take the bottle out and stared at it then the screen charged to two masked men rummaging though my stuff, are you kidding me i was being robbed "psst i think i hear someone's in there" one whispered pointing at the bathroom door, the other nodded "i got this" holding a baseball bat then quietly open the and to my horror i watched helplessly as the bat came domn on my head and (y/n) on the screen fall to the tiled floor with a thud and blood poured out of my head like a fountain

"dude i didn't tell you to kill 'em" masked man A yelled "aw shit man, let's get outta here" the screen turned back to static

all the air i had left me and my knees hit the dark ground losing the strength to stand, "i'm...am i..." as i found i had difficuly speaking as though my tongue was made of clay

"'dead' yes, i'm sorry (y/n)"

great killed in a 'breaking and entering' gone wrong and not only that on the day i planed to kill myself how ironic i can hear my mother's disappointment from here i bet my brother's just haveing a ball with this

the worst part is i had a suicide note prepared sigh what a waste of time

"am i ... is this hell?" looking back at her

"no purgatory"

"this is purgatory" i gestured around the emptiness

"no, this place is a in between of existiong and nothingness almost a dream space if you will i pulled you in so we could talk" said matter a factly

"i see...but the place i was before you pulled me in, that was purgatory?" i slowly stood up

"yes and no"

"huh?"

"There isn't just one purgatory there are infinite think of them as levels each one significantly different then the last each housing millions of souls you had the bad fortune by them"

souls? Then i remembered the faceless people and sally why did she have her's and they didn't "those people ..... is that gonna happen to me?!" oh god i felt another panic attack coming on

"no, Souls that lose their conviction their individuality become faceless they're lost themselves , so please listen to me" she took my hands into her's "they love playing sick twisted mind games they will use your pain against you so no matter how painful no matter how tragic don't forget yourself, in your pain holds your truth, it is what will keep you so no matter what don't look away,"

my mind was in a shamble of questions " who's 'they'?" i demanded

before she could answer me a ominous sound filled the nothingness like a siren then the ground shook violently like a earthquake then the whole area glowed a horrifying red

"oh no they found me!" she shook her head in dismay

"who's they, and what's happening?!" i screamed trying to keep myself steady

"there's no time, you must find the angel of death that they have enthralled in their game of torture, he is the key, you'll know him by this symbol" oh good more convoluted bullshit she waved her again and in the middle of the static of the screen appeared a misshapened heart that had a jagged line in the middle on one side black the other white and in red was the word 'yours' right in the middle as it flickered in and out on the tv

"key? key to what goddamnit, how am i supposed to find him with that !?" as i shook her but she was like a mannequin her eyes were like static they were there one sec and gone the next

"S---so-rry -----ere's n--- -ime you mu-t fin-d him" her voice came in and out like a out of tuned radio

Side note: sorry have break it into two parts

Yourboyfriend belongs to @invertedmindinc cheack her other @y0urb0yfriend

[abyssmal-writings]

The Thing Near the Tracks

I work a part time job for the city of Houston as a porter. My work schedule starts in the evening and ends in the early hours of the morning. I'm picked up by my boss and crew from home. In the truck it's usually four of us going out to work, sometimes three if someone calls out or quits. We drive through out Houston and clean up centers owned by the individual or company that has hired us for our services. The job consists of picking up litter, sweeping stair cases, and using a leaf blower to blow, well, leaves and pine needles into piles to pick up. The job's pay is shit and the work is unbearably boring. But what can you do when you have no vehicle to help you have that better paying job? I'm not here to complain about my situation though. You see, last week something very strange happened. I'm still coming to grips with the whole thing. It feels like, a really bad dream except there's no waking up from it. No matter how badly I want to I can not deny what I saw. I'm hoping that doing this, posting what I've experienced will help me cope with the insanity that is slowly taking over my mind. Alright, here goes nothing.

It was a Tuesday night, and we arrived at our third center in Greenspoint area off 45. I believe the company was Tellepsen, or perhaps it was near their facility. Without getting into the boring details, we did our job. Picked the place clean of litter and checked the parameter for anything else to toss away or clean. On the opposite side of the building there was an abandon train track. All that was left of the tracks were the rails, it's tiles removed or some cracked from age. One thing I forgot to mention, I'm the only male on my crew, so for anyone who is aware of greenspoint area and what it is like, you'd understand when I say that I was usually the one to go off into the darker areas to clean or check to make sure we didn't miss anything. So I was the one to cross those tracks to the back of the building to go clean and make sure nothing else was amiss. Now, I'm not exactly a brave individual but I do this to help speed up the process for us to quickly leave the center so we can move on to the next one and hopefully end the nights shift early. I don't let the area I work in bother me at all and I tend to be ignorant of the danger I put myself in by being alone while I work. Stupid, I know. As I was strolling down the tracks pointing my flash light this way and that way to be sure all was done, I noticed what seemed to be a fresh puddle next to a big container. Seeing this both confused me and intrigued my curiosity because it did not rain the previous day or the day before either. I looked behind me and saw my co-workers at a distance finishing up their little area of the center, just to be sure I was in their sight in case anything happened. I approached the puddle and turned off my flash light as I got closer since there was a source of light on a building adjacent to the container. As I got closer I saw that it was no puddle of water but what looked like a fresh spill of black paint or tar in a perfect circle. I don't know why I was drawn to it, but as I looked closer the black spill shimmered in the light that was available. I pulled out my pocket knife and used it like a shovel to scoop up some of it up. Surprisingly, the black substance didn't slowly drip or slide off the blade. Its touch as well felt sort of gooey, it reminded me of blood when it clots up from an open cut. I heard the work trucks engine come to life in the distance, queuing me that we're heading out to our next center. As I'm getting up I immidiately smell something so fucking putrid it made me gag. I have a weak stomach to bad smells, so it took me a moment to regain my composure.

"H-help me. It hurts.. It huurts." Said a voice behind me. I quickly turned and saw an aged man dressed in ragged clothes. His face was twisted in a state of agonizing pain, the same black substance that was on the ground was stained below his lips and on his chin. He was gripping at his stomach and using his other hand that was covered with blood and more of that black shit to reach out to me.

"Help, help me! I'm in so much pain. My insides, they're t-tearing apart!", the man cried out.

Now at this point, I was frozen in place. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was chilled to the bone by the man before me. So many red flags were popping up in my vision. A voice in my head shouted "Run you idiot!" But instead I stood there dumbfounded and unsure of what to do. My boss pulled up behind me in the truck, its headlights putting us in a spotlight. I noticed the man's eyes were bloodshot red and tears were streaming down his face.

"Martha!" I called out to my boss. "Call 911, get a paramedic!" I meant to say this with courage in my tone, but it came out more hesitant and cracked like a young school child. I was frightened. Something didn't feel right and there were plenty of signs showing that none of what was happening was in anyway normal.

"Holy shit.. Quick, Jessica is on the other side of the building. Go and get her now as I help this man." Martha said. Martha's an older woman, but she doesn't let that stop her from defending herself from anything or anyone and is capable to flee if need be. I trusted she'd be alright, so I ran off to go and get my co-worker. I didn't have to go far. As soon as I crossed the tracks she was already coming around the corner of the building to us.

"Woah hey, what's the rush? Is everything okay?" She asked me. I just shook my head and motioned for her to come to the truck. When I turned back around I saw that the man and Martha were no longer in sight. Before I could even think of anything else, I heard her let out a blood curdling scream that made my heart stop. Jessica and I ran in the direction of the scream that was just on the other side of the truck. We went around the front end of it and saw Martha and the man. Martha was on the ground, hands keeping herself up and widespread panic on her face. The man was between her and us, his back facing me. He was groaning in pain, but.. His voice.. The sound of it seemed as if there were two voices in one. I can't explain it, but it wasn't his normal voice. He must have sensed our presence behind him, cause he began to slowly turn around and face us.

Fuck man.. His stomach was torn open and these.. These appendages were wriggling out of him. Instead of blood it was the same black shit I saw on the ground earlier that oozed out of his stomach. I saw his face.. My god his face. Twisted in pain, terror, confusion. As if to say with his expression "Why is this happening?" He let out one last groan. And I say this not because he then died, but more appendages came out of his mouth. Opening it beyond human possibility. All the while, the man moaned and groaned, still alive through it all. His eyes now widened to the monstrosity he has become.

"Get away from it! Run!" Martha screamed. The man, the.. The thing turned to her and slowly began to make its way towards her. His movements like that of someone carrying something heavy or.. In excruciating pain. One foot lifting, the other dragging behind with each step. Jessica took this moment and ran to the truck, jumping into the driver seat and putting it in reverse. She backed it up close enough for Martha to get up and jump in the passenger seat. She then cut the wheel to the left and reversed, turning the truck around towards me. All the while my gaze was upon the thing that just a few minutes ago was a poor homeless man. During the daring escape and saving our necks, the thing turned its attention to me and just looked at me. I could hear it breathing, no, wheezing. Though I'm not certain how given that the appendages were wriggling out of it's mouth. Before anything else could happen Jessica backed the truck up between us and without hesitation I jumped into the bed of it and she hauled ass put of the center. I looked back as we drove away and saw the thing look at us as we escaped. An ungodly scream came from it. Sound of both monster and what once was a man. I kept looking at it as we drove further away until we turned a corner and the thing was no longer in site. I still didn't feel safe. My heart was racing, eyes wide in fear. At that moment and even now I could not believe what just took place. That eerie scream still haunts me. We never went back to that center. Martha checks it off on our list as if we did it each time a day comes for our scheduled route towards greenspoint. I haven't gone back to work in three days. I still feel its presence, as if it knows where I am. Martha called me yesterday to check on me. I could tell she was still shocked by the event. She told me she's taking a vacation. Her and her husband are going out of town. I hope that helps her. I wish I could do the same, escape from my home and never look back. You see, the thing is that yesterday I walked the dog in my apartment complex. As we passed up a dumpster he began to whimper and growl at something on the other side of it. As I said, I'm not brave, but I do the things I do cause they must be done. That, and curiosity always gets the better of me. I went to the other side of the dumpster to see what bothered my dog. My heart sank as I saw it and dread filled my mind. On the concrete next to the dumpster, was a puddle of that black substance. Now.. Now I don't feel safe at my own home.

[collateralfiction]

22

Bailey

He didn’t even survive pass the next day.

He didn’t even wake up.

Yet, the doctors told us something else while his body was slowly deteriorating.

Ms. Chalmers and I had waited near Riley’s bedside until Ryan showed up or if he even would. It was up in the air with him right about now since I haven’t heard anything from him since seeing him last night. Every other relative of Riley seemed to drop what they were doing and make a beeline towards the designated Hospital. There wasn’t a moment when someone wasn’t in the hospital room; whether that be a nurse or a guest and it was only 3 in the afternoon. Not once had I seen Riley open his eyes or talk but move? Yes. It was very subtle like and it gave me hope but that bit of hope didn’t last long every time a doctor arrived with furrowed eyebrows, talking in hushed whispers. They didn’t suspect that I had noticed their body language but as I sat in the corner, I had a great view of everything that was happening around me.

Ms. Chalmers and I slept on the couches and occasionally would wake up in the middle of the night to check if there was any progress. But, to no avail. I could see it all over her face that she was losing hope quickly and although it was a sad thing to do, it was the reality of the situation which is exactly why we were all waiting for Ryan to make his appearance. A part of me wasn’t sure if he would show but I was really trusting that he would; not only for his brother but for his weak mother as well. There was only so much I could do and what I could offer to Ryan’s mother would always be less than what he could give his own mother.

He was just being a great disappointment lately.

Things just seemed to get progressively worse as time went on. No matter what, I always tried to be understanding and talk to him throughout our issues, but I wasn’t stupid. His actions lately and in the past haven’t been the best and it has made me raise a few eyebrows and connect the dots on my own terms, but it has led me nowhere. I don’t want to say I’ve given up but I’m on the brink of it. I shouldn’t have to worry about what my boyfriend is doing behind my back and I’m not. I’m just not sure how long this situation between us will last. I don’t want to give up on something that started off so well but it’s like Ryan leaves me no choice. And to think my father cosigned him. Maybe it was the sole fact that he could keep a keen eye on Ryan that he did? Perhaps.

“In an hour exactly he’ll be taken off of life support,” Ms. Chalmers said, walking next to me and taking a seat beside me on the tan colored couch. My eyes blinked repeatedly, and I felt a brink of tears about to escape my ducts. I had the smallest circle and only surrounded myself with people that were either family or friends related. It was those that actually mattered to me and the fact that I was going to be losing Riley gave me great anxiety. How could I lose someone as special as him in my life? Ms. Chalmers pulled me in for a hug before tears could slip past my eyes, rubbing my back reassuringly. “I know, baby,” she whispered. “It’s going to be hard on everyone, the two of us especially,”

It was no doubt that Riley and I shared a connection that was out of this world and some could closely relate it to being on a level of soulmates, but it was never something we could take there. It was just something about Riley’s mind that instantly made me gravitate towards him. You know how when people talk about fucking each other’s mind? Well, that’s what he did. Ryan might not have liked it but that was out of my control. What did he expect to happen while being near Riley while he went out to do his dirty work? Did he not expect us to talk? After all, I was with Riley more than Ryan to begin with anyhow.

“Yeah,” I mumbled lightly. “I, uh, just hope Ryan makes it on time. He hasn’t returned any of my calls,” I said, looking down at my nails. The doctors had suggested placing Riley in a new room, so we wouldn’t have to bear witness to any of the unexpected changes. After sleeping by Riley’s bedside, for the first time all night, I agreed with them.

“Really?” Ms. Chalmers said. “That’s oddly strange. I just got off the phone with him,” My eyebrows knitted together in confusion and I leaned back. So, his phone wasn’t dead, he had enough time to call his mother, but he couldn’t reply to a few of my messages? Out of everyone he chooses to ignore, he’s going to ignore the one that’s always been there for him and his family regardless? Fine. This is just another reason why our relationship is deteriorating. A wave of emotions showed on her face for me and the sign of sympathy was the clearest one of them all. I peeled her hands from off of my hands and stood to walk outside.

My feet carried me towards the cafeteria where I bought a small cup of coffee and sat down, reevaluating everything that happened in the past twelve hours. I could definitely go for a well needed rest because nothing was making sense. Riley wasn’t even involved in what Ryan did and had no ties to it whatsoever. For it to happen in front of his building automatically told me that someone must have been following him to at least know where he lives. Ryan on the other hand, might have a few enemies on his hand and depending on the circumstance, things could have ended up on bad terms, leaving the possibility up for revenge there.

I racked my brain for any reason as to why someone would target Ryan but came up fruitless. He’s been behaving lately, and we’ve actually been spending a lot of time together to make up for lost time, although looking collectively at the last few months, it hasn’t been the best. However, the only thing that actually entered my mind was what Ryan was doing two, three months ago and how he disappeared for about a week. When he came back, he was jittery as fuck and his nerves were shot. I couldn’t seem to understand it, nor did I question it because I didn’t want to hear what wrong he was doing. A hand was placed on my shoulder, bringing me out of my thoughts quickly. I turned around and stared up at Ryan, a soft sigh emitting from my lips. “Where’d you go last night?” I questioned instantly, standing up.

He towered over my frame tremendously and for once, didn’t seem too defensive around me. “Not now,” he pleaded. “I can’t watch someone I love die in front of me,” I cut my eyes at him and shook my head. He was full of it but that was nothing new. Something had to give.

“Why weren’t you attempting to reach out to me after all my calls and messages?!” I said smugly.

“Can we talk about this later?! I’m here now!”

“Exactly,” I mumbled, brushing pass him. I trekked back towards the room I knew Riley was in by memorization and looked in the little window, seeing Ms. Chalmers over the railing, talking to her dying son. He was alive, but he was dead. He was in a serious coma. But with the way the EKG was going, it was safe to say that he wouldn’t make it. Ryan stepped by me and looked into the room. His hand grasped the doorknob and he took a step in, looking back at me.

“Are you coming in?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” I said.

“A’ight,”

I watched from afar as Ryan and Ms. Chalmers talked to Riley’s body. I couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying but I know it was meant to be private and for them to have their last few minutes together. Despite everything, I’m glad that Ryan did show up when he did because he needed to be there. He needed to gain some sort of closure with his only brother and I couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter what. A part of me couldn’t help but feel guilty only because of how it seemed as if I was catering more to Riley than Ryan and even Ryan picked up on that himself. It seemed so bad now that I was thinking about it but most of that was harmless until a line had been crossed not even two months ago. It was the same time around when Ryan had a ‘mission’ and he was gone for that full week, I spent the week with Riley and Rayne went to stay with our mother.

Usually, there was always a source of entertainment while I crashed at his place and this time was no different as he set up game night with me, him and a few of his friends. It seemed like a frat party every night, so it wasn’t just us two. However, as the days went by, I seemed to notice something strange with Riley, so I easily confronted him about it. Long story short, what I thought would be a simple conversation turned into something deeper. Within a thirty-minute time frame, Riley had spilled the unimaginable; he confessed to liking me. I questioned where that came from and he honestly didn’t have an explanation from me like I thought he would.

He seemed vulnerable and even a little emotionally unstable. I was flabbergasted at his confession and taken aback that I was slow to react to anything that was occurring around me. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine and I found myself putting in the same amount of passion as him. It seemed like things were escalating quickly and I had to put my hand to his chest in order to stop him. Usually, Riley was the first person to show his emotions on his face, regardless if he done something right or wrong but at this point, he didn’t care… well, at least that’s what his face showed. That night, I really couldn’t stay around him as much as I usually do. One thing for sure, I was more confused than ever that night and the line between friends and lovers were blurred.

“Happy birthday, Bailey!” was yelled loudly across the private beach we were all residing in.

I chuckled, shaking my head slightly. “How many times are you guys going to randomly shout that?” I grinned.

“Every time you think we forgot,” Adrian smirked.

“Well thank you,” I chuckled, plopping down on the peach colored beach towel. I woke up this morning in a room filled with colorful balloons and a bag that contained all my birthday gifts. I didn’t get a chance to look at them individually and I probably won’t until tomorrow or so. Due to the fact that I overheard Justine plans for my birthday, I knew exactly what was happening but decided to act as if I didn’t just to make her feel like all her hard work was fulfilled and panned out in the way that she wanted. Regardless, I wasn’t going to complain about it and just enjoy my special day that I know is simply reserved for me and myself only. Turning twenty-two felt good; number one reason why was for the fact that I was still alive and healthy despite every worse case scenario thrown my way.

My birthday would have been complete if my family was around but they’re not and I just have to accept it. It’s not like I won’t see them soon. However, that was one thing I did not want to think about. It comes with too much worrying. Shaking my head slowly, I took a sip of my Pina Colada concoction while using my left hand to fan myself. Since Austin was a participant in this trip, I wanted to make sure that he was included in everything possible, so he would feel comfortable. The beach was a perfect way for that to happen with us being only a few minutes away. “Alright, we ‘bout to play some football!” Justin yelled. “Volunteers?” he questioned. A scattered response from the guys all saying the same thing, yes, ensued. “Girls?”

“Wouldn’t it be uneven?” I thought out loud.

“Naw, four and four. Austin is playing,” Justin said.

“If that’s the case, we’re the captains,” Justine explained. The guys looked at her with a raised eyebrow before they all eventually nodded, seeing as that we were the only two females with them to begin with. “I will be one captain and Bailey will be the other,” she smirked. We all nodded simultaneously, and I quickly finished my drink before standing up. I tossed on my cover up to my blue bikini. I knew nothing concerning football, but I was willing to give it a try. I would watch Sunday football with my father at one point, so this should be slightly easy. Right? “Birthday girl gets to choose first!” she yelled.

“Alright, my first choice has to be Austin. He looked out for me this whole morning,” I smiled, opening my arms out for him to run into them. He literally woke me up with his squeals of Happy Birthday before anybody else could. He made sure I had some breakfast and talked to me the whole morning about how I felt about turning one year older. The only thing he didn’t do is give me my gift that he so kindly seemed to talk around.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and smiled at his uncle with a mischievous grin. “That was foul, B. But okay, I’m going to play nice. I’ll choose Caiden,” Justine said.

“Of course!” I said through a fit of fake coughs. She cut her eyes at me before subtly placing her finger over her mouth, shushing me.

“I’ll take Adrian and August then,”

“Alright, come on Justin and Brian. No slacking off!” she said seriously. We split apart and headed in opposite directions to discuss game plan. While Justine was taking this completely seriously and I just wanted my team to have as much fun as possible. Besides, it was my birthday; I should win by default.

“Why you pick me second?” Adrian questioned, looking down at me since I was much shorter than him. I wrapped my arms around his torso, looking up at him with my chin resting on his bare chest. Although he didn’t really work out, he was still slim and could pull off without wearing a shirt. This morning, he told me: no sits up for me, long as my dick still get up for me. It earned a few chuckles out of me but I knew he was dead serious. Lucky for him, he had a high metabolism so that shit wasn’t catching up to him.

“I told you where my heart lies,” I chuckled. “Austin is my main,”

“You shady as fuck for that,” he grumbled.

“Keep it cute, boo,” I said. “We got a game to win,”

“And why should I help you win?” he asked, slipping his hand under my cover up and palming my ass. “What do I get in return?” That action meant he only had one thing in mind and by the lustful stares he was giving me, I could tell but played like I didn’t notice them at all.

“A few bottles…. All on me though!” I smiled.

“That’s it? You know what I’m talking ‘bout,” he grumbled, nuzzling his face in the crevice of my neck.

“What you want?” I said lowly near his ear. “We can do it right now,”

Pulling back at me for second, he stared at me through thin slits. “See! Stop playing games with me, Bailey before I fuck you up,” he stated but started to chuckle after, noticing how I wasn’t being exactly truthful. I pulled him down his goatee, kissing his supple lips multiple times.

“I should have been asking you that, truth be told,” I said. “It’s my birthday after all. I deserve strippers and shit,”

“That’s what you want?” he asked, giving me a raised eyebrow.

“Only if they ass is fat,”

“Then that’s what we gonna do,” he grinned, smacking my ass. I yelped and quickly pushed his hands away.

“That is not funny,” I muttered, deciding to walk away.

“It’s not. That ass you got is something serious,” he cackled behind me and although I wanted to play like what he said wasn’t funny, I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit and crack a smile. So far, so good. I’m just waiting to see how long it stays like this.

__

“So, as we can see, I am the next Eli Manning. I am as fast as a Cheetah and if you didn’t know, I’m unstoppable,” I boasted for the fourth time during our lunch break, taking a bite out my burger shortly after. We played two games out of three and whoever won two games first was crowned the winner. Naturally, anybody is competitive, without a doubt and this was no different. The fact that Austin is so small and can move quite the distance and swerve past people like it’s nothing had us at a huge advantage. Justine talked all through the game, claiming that we were cheating but truth be told, she just wasn’t the best athlete on her team. Adrian and August made this shit look easy, so I stuck to being the one who caught the ball and ran past everyone…. Too bad I don’t know what that’s called. Wide receiver? Quarterback? Doesn’t matter to me, I still destroyed everyone.

“Now see, if we weren’t playing in sand, you wouldn’t have won shit,” Caiden retorted.  

“Dead ass, bruh,” Justin muttered with a sour facial expression. It honestly amused me how they got so bent out of shape over something like this. It was always a bruise to their ego when a girl could do something better than them, sports especially.

“Might I add, Austin had no problems through the sand,” I said, wishing Austin was near to hear that. He had previously went inside the villa to get something for me, presumably my birthday gift, which left the table with everyone else but him and Justine.

“He’s small though,” Brian countered.

“You are too, and I saw you slipping quite much,” I giggled, leaning back into the crème colored booth, crossing my arm over my chest tightly. There were chairs on the outskirts as well. The weather seemed to be amazing today. I would have expected it to be hot as fuck out here, but it really wasn’t. It was a nice temperature with cool breezes to help people like me accommodate to the sudden changes. With New York and its’ ever changing weather temperatures and condition, the weather here was much better. I loved it. Brian stuck his middle finger up at me and I waved it off as all the guys began to jump on the bandwagon and crack jokes on one another. Only person that wasn’t doing any of that was Adrian. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing… nothing. I’m just thinking of all the ways I can fuck you since we missed out on hella days,” he said lowly, dropping his hands on my thigh. “I plan to fuck you at least twice every day before we go back home,”

I dropped my hand over his large ones and gripped it tightly. “Are you keeping that promise?”

“Of course,” he smirked, taking a sip of his Hennessey. No matter what time of day it is, he always has his drink made, by him of course. Austin and Justine made their way from around the corner and towards our private table. Instead of sitting down, Austin came around to my side, asking if Justin could slide out of the booth so he could sit next to me. He pushed away everything that was in front of me to place a Burberry bag in front of me with a cheesy grin.

“My mommy and uncle A told me that you made me a cake when I came home, and I wanted to be nice back and get you something because it’s your birthday,” he expressed. “You can open it,”

“Before I do, did you buy this with your money?” I chuckled, eyeing the expensive name brand.

“Um, see, the way my Captain America wallet is set up…” he said causing us all to start laughing.

“It’s okay, boo. It’s the thought that counts,” I said, removing the brown paper bag that was stuffed inside. I felt around for two boxes and pulled out the smallest one first.

“Uncle A said females like shoes like niggas,”

“Austin!” Justine yelled. “Watch your mouth,”

Austin’s face was priceless as he slapped his hand on his mouth. “Aw, baby. It’s okay,” I said, draping my arm over his small shoulder. I proceeded to open the box and my eyes glazed over the neutral colored Canvas Check and Leather sandals. They were adorable and would definitely fit into my growing collection of clothes. I smiled at Austin and pinched his cheek before he encouraged me to look at my next box which was much bigger. The next box contained a hand painted Leather Ankle bootthat was absolutely to die for, or maybe I was just exaggerating because of how unique looking it was. “These are so beautiful, Austin. You picked these out all by yourself?”

“Yep!” he stated proudly. I gave him a tight hug and proclaimed that he was the MVP of the day for his over the top gifts, although I haven’t seen the others just yet.

“Where’s my gift, Adrian?” I said, turning to face him.

“In my pants,” he muttered nonchalantly, finishing off his plate.

“Ugh, can’t stand you,”  

Third Person Perspective

“Make sure you clean up this room, Austin. We’re not home and there should be no reason why you start to become lazy all of a sudden,” Justine stated seriously, watching as her son picked up his sneakers from around the room. Although this was a vacation and a place where he could be as free as he wanted to be, he still had to be neat and tidy. It was something Justine felt the need to teach her son early on so by the time he’s sixteen, Austin shouldn’t expect his mother to clean his bed because he’ll already have done it. She’s going to raise Austin to be like Austin and not the males in his life. Although Justine loves her brother dearly, she doesn’t love what he does and the consequences of half the shit he gets into but what is her voicing her opinion really going to do? Not a damn thing so all Justine can do is prevent it from happening with her son. She surely doesn’t want Austin growing up to be like his father, but she does wish, and still do, that one day they’ll have a father son relationship.

That would be the dream but knowing how overprotective her older brother is, it doesn’t really seem reachable. Austin rarely talks about his father but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wonder where his old man is at. At one point, things were smooth sailing and Austin wasn’t affected by any of this but things happened, people changed and mistakes were made and now this is the result of everything; Austin getting caught in the middle of all this madness. “It’s clean, ma!” Austin complained, wanting to go back outside.

The guys had finished eating lunch a little over thirty minutes ago and Austin was craving to go outside or at least be with everyone else. He didn’t want to be stuffed inside a room when everyone else was outside having fun. “Lower your voice,” Justine stated sternly. “You’ve been speaking out of turn lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” she said. Maybe it was the fact that Austin is around grown men who don’t have a filter or maybe it’s because Justine isn’t as strict as she could be when the time calls for it. Regardless, it has to be nipped in the bud.

“Sorry,” Austin apologized truthfully.

With a sigh, Justine excused it and allowed him to leave his room when she felt like it was time. Plopping down on the small bed, Justine reached over to her ringing phone and sighed again upon realizing that it was her mother trying to reach in contact with her. Mrs. Andrews had been calling quite frequently for the past two days and like any time before, Justine had ignored her calls. Justine doesn’t have it in her to hate anyone but there is a strong dislike she has for her mother ever since finding out that she was pregnant at such a tender age. There was a time when Adrian and Justine’s mother was amazing as hell and did any and everything for them; essentially bending over backwards. But that was when there were three young children. Not just Adrian and Justine but, Adrian, Justine and Austin Jr. Adrian wasn’t always the oldest but up until a couple of years ago, he was. Austin Jr. was the eldest out of the three kids and when Mrs. Andrews had all her three kids together in good health, she was at her happiest and most nurturing.

However, that didn’t last long when Austin Jr, who was named after his father, died suddenly and abruptly out of nowhere. It caught everyone off guard and most importantly hit Mrs. Andrews like a ton of bricks. Austin Jr was a healthy kid, teen and adult so she couldn’t seem to grasp why on God’s green earth that her son had to be the one to suffer and die unexpectedly. It tore up her world and although she couldn’t have done much, she still felt like this was all her fault and to this day, probably feels the same way.

Justine was only 15 when her older brother passed away and even though she and Adrian have always been close, Austin Jr was always someone she would go to before Adrian just because they were very different and had different outlooks on life. That’s why she named her son after him. Adrian on the hand just became numb to the whole situation and buried it away with his older brother. He had witnessed too many people slip from his life to really feel moved. Although it seemed like he was apathetic to his own brother, he just couldn’t come to grips with the sudden event. It was just something he didn’t want to deal with and instead, just made sure his sister was good since their mother seemed to check out mentally.

After that, things haven’t been the same and no one seems to be making effort to fix things once and for all. Or maybe Mrs. Andrew actually is and her efforts are being ignored. Justine ignored the call once again and contemplated blocking her mother. It would be something very harsh to do but maybe she would catch the hint and finally leave her alone. She wouldn’t have a problem with her growing a bond with Austin but with her? No. Just as soon as she was about to lock her phone, an unfamiliar number popped up. Justine was sure that it was probably her mother calling from another line, but it would be weird for her to all of a sudden do that when she hasn’t before. With much hesitance, she accepted the call and placed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

A few seconds had pass and Justine thought about hanging up till she heard a familiar voice flow through the phone. “Justine, how nice to hear from you,”

“Lonnie,” she mumbled, feeling her chest tighten.

“Yeah, it’s me. How you been?” Lonnie asked calmly as if everything was peachy.

Justine hadn’t had a conversation with Lonnie in over… two weeks, perhaps three? As far as Adrian knew, his sister and Lonnie weren’t speaking at all. All contact was dissolved but apparently, there had been a few conversations here and there and a few meet ups as well. In Justine’s mind, it was all to appease Lonnie and maybe help pacify the situation to the point where her son can be with his father and Adrian can tolerate the situation. If not, Justine was treading on dangerous water. “F-fine,” she stuttered. “Why? Is there something wrong?” she said, her face reading distressed.

“Actually, there is,” he stated after clearing his throat. Lonnie was about to make Justine sweat for a bit. Despite what Lonnie is perceived as, he’s smart in his own way. While some might go the easier route to figure out a simple math problem, he’ll probably look in another direction to find the correct answer, even if it would take him much more time. Justine sat up, stood from the bed and made her way outside so no one would be able to eavesdrop into the conversation. Before leaving completely, she slid into her Nike slides. There was no telling what Lonnie just might say. Their past conversations have been relatively good but by the condescending tone Lonnie was using on Justine, her guard was definitely up, and she was frightful.

“How’s your brother doing?” he asked instead of cutting straight to the chase.

“Please, don’t start,” she said weakly, closing her eyes tightly.

“Well, in that case, I’ll tell you how he’s doing. Don’t have your brother lurking around my crib and confronting me on some shit that don’t involve him at all, alright?” Justine was utterly confused by his statement. For one, she doesn’t know what Adrian does in his spare time which scares her, but she can’t do much about. However, Justine knows that Adrian can’t stand Lonnie, so she was a bit taken aback that he would be anywhere near him. Then it started to hit her; what did her brother know?! “Then it clicked with me, who’s this Kennedy chick your brother has fake dating me?!”

“You’re dating?” she found herself asking. So many things were being thrown at her, she didn’t quite know how to respond or where to start.

“Don’t have your brother coming to me on some bullshit and trying to fight. I left him alone a long ass time ago for your sake,” Although Lonnie wasn’t being as blunt as Justine would have liked, she picked up on his threat easily. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’s done it. “Check that nigga. Fuck he bothering me for?”

“Lonnie, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Justine said, her neat eyebrows meshing together.

“Better get a clue, bitch,” And then there was a dial tone.

__

“Three months and then probation? How is that possible? I mean, it’s wonderful but this is legit, right?” Mrs. Banks questions, looking at their family lawyer, Mr. Moore, suspiciously. Mr. Moore had been their lawyer for over fifteen years and had been there during any of their legal problems. He graduated at the top of his class at Harvard. He was a force and one not to be taken lightly. Instead of serving 5 years for his federal offense, Mr. Banks only has to do a minimum of three due to Mr. Moore and his savvy words. He knew every crack and bend in this job and he would use them to his advantage. Now, he was reporting to Mrs. Banks that instead of spending a year and half, half of three years Mr. Banks has left, he would only have threemonths left. Twelve weeks left. It seemed odd and abrupt, but Mrs. Banks didn’t want to question it too much either. Mr. Moore was very certified, so he obviously should know what he’s talking about.

“Of course, it is. I recently got a copy of the documentation of his sentencing and noticed a glitch. I did a little more research on it and this is the result I got from that. In three months, he’ll be released. Probation is a must and that’ll probably include house arrest. For how long? That’s still in question,” he confessed. “Everything is being worked out slowly,”

Mrs. Banks couldn’t believe her ears. Although she was excited, it didn’t register on her face. What did register was every scenario that would soon happen and what Mr. Banks’ reactions would be. That was something she wasn’t ready for, but it was necessary at this point. It would make things a lot easier with him around. She was just hopeful that Bailey would be back before then. This day was exceptionally hard on everyone because it was Bailey’s birthday and they couldn’t even be there to celebrate with her. They all wondered what she was doing or if she was fine. A phone call at this point would suffice so badly. If only they knew.

“Are you sure of this? I don’t want to get my child’s hopes up for nothing to happen,” Mr. Moore began to elaborate on the glitch he witnessed and how the outcome would in fact affect Mr. Banks for the better. Even with a thorough explanation, she was still on the fence about all of this. It was one thing to think about him finally coming home and it was also another thing for her to run and tell Rayne and for it not to happen. Mr. Banks being back home would be a major adjustment and not having Bailey around to fill that missing gap would be an even bigger thing to deal with than dealing with jail.

“Three months, I wouldn’t lie. But for precaution, don’t tell Mr. Banks any of this just yet. We’ll know what’s set in stone two to three weeks from now. For right now, start making arrangements,” He was referring to Bailey and pressing charges whenever the time called for it. It was something a rational Mrs. Banks wanted to do but typically, Mr. Banks had other plans in mind. The only thing that he was focusing on in that moment was getting his daughter back and he knew that it would happen in due time.

“Three months,” she mumbled lowly.

Bailey

“Are you sure you can’t come tonight? Austin will be supervised thoroughly,” I whined, unable to really understand the sudden distance Justine was putting in between the crew and herself. Everything seemed fine until over an hour ago when I actually saw her after she disappeared from the unit. Before, Justine had promised that she would make it out tonight just for me and would have someone responsible to watch out for Austin, but it looks like things have changed and her mind being number one. She sighed, placing her Chanel sunglasses over her eyes. I don’t know exactly why she was wearing glasses at this time of day, but I didn’t question it; but I did have a theory on it.

“I’m sure, Bailey. I would feel rather safe if I was here with him anyway. Have fun though, boo. Take a shot of Vodka for me, okay?” she said weakly, giving me a soft smile.

“What’s wrong?” I questioned. “Just tell me. You’re always there for me. At least let me do the same,” I said, glancing at the clock quickly. I had an hour to get ready, according to Adrian, and I hadn’t even gotten dressed. I was sitting down in a white robe, not really feeling motivated to get up and do something truth be told. But everyone was getting ready to go out and celebrate my birthday so the least I could do was be appreciative. However, Justine didn’t look and sound the greatest and it had me curious to her sudden change of heart and what happened that has her acting strange. She wouldn’t budge though, no matter how inquisitive I became. Had this been Adrian, there was no way she would have been able to walk away without spilling some sort of details. I had half the mind to go to Adrian about this, but I didn’t want her to feel like this was an ambush.

“Later,” she said. “Uh, you want me to help you get ready?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.

“You can do my make up,” I said. My hair had been in its natural state of loose curls and I didn’t feel like going through the struggle to straighten it. With a simple head nod, Justine began to pull out a small bag containing her makeup and sat them in my lap.

“Your makeup will be done in thirty minutes flat. That’s how good I am,” she smirked, raising her sunglasses to the top of her head. In all actuality, it took her thirty-five minutes to finish my makeup, only because I wasn’t feeling the plum lipstick and instead opted for a subtle lip gloss that complemented my complexion and the color scheme of the rest of my makeup. She applied some mousse to my hair to spruce up my curls and allowed for it to set for a few minutes. “You look so great, B!” she gushed, returning with my black dress and the boots Austin ‘purchased’ for me earlier.

“You sure? You think Adrian will like it?” I found myself asking, lightly biting down on my bottom lip.

“He won’t even be concerned with your makeup, truth be told. He’ll be looking at you in this dress of yours!” she squealed. “Side boob on deck,”

“For real,” I mumbled. Justine once again helped me slip into my short black dress, zipping me up right after.

“You look like a Sports Illustrated Model, goodness,” Justine chuckled.

“Thank you, you’re too kind,” I said, smoothing down the dress completely and turning around so I could look at myself from the back.

“Okay, your ass looks great. No need to stare,” Justine chuckled, cleaning up the mess we had made in the master bathroom. With a content sigh leaving my lips, I left the bathroom and the room altogether. The hour time I was given wasn’t enough as I went over it by a few but for good reasoning of course. When I made it towards the living room, everyone either sat on the couch with Styrofoam cups in their hands or at the bar creating some sort of concoction of a drink. I caught Adrian’s eyes first and for a second, he looked up and looked back down but when he realized it was me, his eyes landed back on me in a flash.

“Com’ere,” he called out. Pursing my lips slightly, I walked towards him and stood between his open legs. His right hand went to the back of my thigh, rubbing it slowly. “You look good,” he said huskily, pulling me to sit on top of his lap. He was wearing a black t shirt with a Cardinal’s jersey on. He wore denim jeans and a pair of crisp white Olympics. To say the least, he looked good… too good in my opinion. I was ready to throw it at him right now. I wrapped my arms around his neck, smirking.

“Thank you, baby,” I smiled, kissing his lips.

“Shots, niggas,” Justin loud ass yelled, breaking up our moment. I tore my eyes away from Adrian and towards the two drinks Justin held in his hands. “Bacardi! The finest Rum you’ll ever have,” he said, practically shoving it in our hands. “You have to drink this too, Bailey. No punkin’ out,” he cackled while walking away. My face immediately scrunched up by the smell and I could only picture the taste being something worst off. Taking it like a champ, I swallowed the bitter taste as fast as I could, although it burned my throat the entire way down. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply as soon as the aftertaste hit my taste bud.

“You a lightweight,” he teased.

“Not even,” I proclaimed. “I can handle myself quite fine while intoxicated,” I said, watching him knock back his drink like it’s nothing. In order to get him drunk seemed like too much work if his face wasn’t twisting up at the taste of any of this hard liquor.

“Leggo!”

__

The car ride towards the furthest strip club was nothing short of amusement. If it wasn’t Justin cracking jokes while knocking back drinks, it was Brian and Caiden singing songs along with the radio. They were really doing everything in their power to make sure that my birthday was nothing short of amazing and I think they pretty much succeeded. Not one negative thought surfaced my mind and it was because of the great distractors I had around me and the continuous amounts of activities they had laid out. With Adrian leading the way, we entered into the large strip club that seemed to be the talk of the town and was a must see tourist attraction. Adrian’s hand gripped onto mine as we maneuvered through the vicinity with my eyes bouncing off everything in sight. Everything from the strobe lighting, the fast pace music and the flexible girls on silver poles giving off the ultimate show for every man that stood around to watch and drown them in money.

Adrian continued to lead us towards a section that was reserved just for us with two burly bodyguards on either side. Adrian spoke to the one on the left first before we were given access into the exclusive spot. It seemed like another world as we entered in further to the establishment where everything seemed to dim down more and the lighting was placed majority on the well trained dancers. Before the group split up, we all took another round of shots before separating. “You wanna tip or get a dance?” Adrian said loud enough for me to hear over the loud music that was playing; Ty$ - Paranoid Remix.

“Both,” I murmured. I have only been to a strip club once in my life and that was only to appease Ryan since he so badly wanted to go to one and I rather be there to supervise his ass than he goes, and I have no recollection of it. Placing a glass of whatever he was drinking in my hand and holding the actual bottle in his, he wrapped his arms around my waist as he led the way towards what he calledthe best dancer in the club.

No one was on stage yet so until then I backed him into a wall and began to dance on him slowly, matching the tempo of the songs that would play. It was like we were in our own world as I continued to grind on him slowly. He had finished his bottle a while ago, so his hands were firmly placed around my waist with his face buried in my neck whispering lustful comments. A yelped passed my lips suddenly as soon as Adrian’s teeth sunk into my skin and he soothed it by licking it slowly. “Stoppp,” I whined playfully, turning around in his grasp and wrapping my arms’ around his neck. I brought his face closer to mine, kissing his lips passionately, feeling the taste of Hennessey on it very blatantly.

“Shit, if anything you should stop. Trying to get a nigga hard in public. You play dirty, baby girl,”

“Not even, baby boy,” I teased with a smirk. His mouth opened to say something but closed as soon as the DJ announced that the main show of the night would be stepping out on the stage. That seemed to capture everyone’s attention, even mine. Adrian dropped his hand in mine and led the way towards the circular stage. From the other side of the platform, I easily spotted Justin and Caiden with racks of money in their hands. A part of me wanted to blow up Caiden’s spot and question exactly what he thought he was doing but I rather not. I was just more so curious as to where Brian and August were. From the corner of my eye, I spotted what I assumed a waitress approaching Adrian in what looked like lingerie, handing him a black duffel bag.

“Here you go, Mr. Peters,” she said formally. “Is there anything else I can get you?” There was a hint of seduction in her voice but being that Adrian was too focused on counting the amount of stacks in the duffel bag to realize what was being said, she was ignored and walked away furiously; looking at me as if I was the source for her being indirectly curved.

“She mad, huh?” he chuckled, handing me four stacks of two hundred five dollar bills.

“I think so,” I giggled as another girl placed a few shot glasses in front of us. I removed the band from off of the first stack and opened it up some. Adrian kicked the bag full of money below him and under the open space. The music switched to something fast pace and a little blunt to YG’s Left, Right. It seemed like with the new pace in music, the lights began to flicker accordingly. From far away, all I could see was ass and titties till the stripper got to the main stage, flashing a smirk at all the thirsty niggas that stood around her, waiting for her to do something amazing. Now that I think about it, I was probably the only female around this stage and her eyes immediately caught that, sending me a small wink.

“You like girls?” Adrian questioned.

I twisted my head to the side, so I could see him. “Hell no!”

“Tonight, you will,” he chuckled, slowly licking his lips.

Third Person Perspective

Without a doubt, both Bailey and Adrian were enjoying themselves at the strip club. Dollar bills from both of their hands were thrown on the curvaceous stripper as she danced around topless, showing off exactly what every man wanted to see. The stripper had begun to tease the crowd, dancing around the edge of the circular stage. The stripper, who went by the stage name Diamond Tryst, flirted with most of the men in the room but made sure to flirt with Bailey periodically. Diamond Tryst had noticed Bailey to be the only girl around and was going to use that as her advantage. It was rare seeing a female have the audacity to step foot into this club like it was nothing, but Bailey had and Bailey was going to receive a show just because she showed up. Bailey didn’t quite know how to think with the flirtatious nature of the dancer, but she masked it well. It was a show and a show that was well done. It seemed like Adrian had this whole night planned for Bailey because next thing Bailey knew, the duo were in the process of getting lap dances side by side. This was like some wild dream Adrian would think of and of course it would happen. But the fact that Bailey was cool with it made it so much better. It seemed like Bailey was enjoying it more than the guys, if anything.

One minute Bailey was the one receiving a lap dance and the next minute she was put on spot and invited to come dance on stage because the club was notified that it was her birthday. “What?!” she yelped, louder than intended to due to the alcohol circulating her bloodstream. She grabbed Adrian’s hand along with hers, not wanting to do whatever they had in mind. Bailey didn’t mind attention, but unintentional attention was a different story. Finally arriving towards the main stage, Adrian was given the microphone and Bailey clutched onto the side of Adrian tightly: mainly due to the fact that she was drinking more than what she should have and that she was kind of anxious to be up here in the first place.

“I want y’all to make extra noise for the birthday woman tonight. It’s a special day for her and she deserves all the love she can get. So, on the count of three, let’s all say happy birthday,” Adrian explained into the microphone. What Bailey didn’t know was that this was all planned as August was slowly dragging out a huge cake with multiple layers with a beautiful design on it. “One… two… three… happy birthday, beautiful!” Although everyone said it at the same time, the only one Bailey heard loud and clear enough was Adrian’s. Bailey smiled wide at him, going to kiss his lips quickly before the sound of the loud and vibrant sparklers went off and the cake caught her attention.

“Adrian,” she blushed, covering her smile.

“No need to thank me,” he chuckled, bringing her closer to her cake. When Bailey was blinded with everything else, she hadn’t noticed the piece of cake that Adrian was holding behind his back. It wouldn’t be a true birthday if Adrian didn’t fuck something up along the way. Turning her head to the side just a bit, Bailey wasn’t quick enough to catch the vanilla icing and cake that was being slammed into the side of her face. She went completely stoic as that mischievous smirk on Adrian’s face appeared before she snapped out of it. Bailey was shocked as hell that he would pull something like that on her birthday but took it in stride.

Grabbing the champagne bottle out of August hand, Bailey opened the cap of it and allowed the carbonated drink to pour all over Adrian’s attire. His smile quickly turned into a frown. Bailey knew better but for the simple fact that she had ‘bout an hour left of her birthday, he was going to let her rock. Bailey wiped away the cake from her face with a napkin and went to make sure it was all gone in the bathroom’s mirror before she made her appearance back outside. Back outside, she continued to dance among everyone in good spirits till the club had no choice but to close down.

“This that Bachata music,” Caiden blurted, immediately pulling Bailey to dance with him. He was a little drunk. They had stopped at a convenient store that was open 24/7 to get Bailey some snacks to munch on since she wouldn’t stop complaining about wanting to eat.

“Ayeee, wepaaa!” she slurred dramatically before letting off unnecessary giggles.

[someonestole15]

Pushing it

I can feel the blade inside me…

The sound of boiling was coming from the next room. As I looked around for a way to open it, I could hear the radio come to life once more.

“Right the keypad should be to the left of the door. Once you find it, enter the code: 7127, which should allow you to enter.”

“Understood. 7127”

Short messages, but still enough to keep them on the track on what I was doing. I located the keypad and entered the code. The locks on the door disengaged and the door started to open up. My sensors lit up red with multiple alerts about the air toxicity rising through the roof, this was the source. I drew my pistol and stepped inside. Before I had a chance to look around, the door slammed shut behind me. I turned around to face it, trying to get in contact with the scientists. No response, and the locks on the door clanked shut again. The lights inside the room activated as the intercom system tried to announce something, but wasn’t able to produce anything other than static. Several catwalks above vats similar to the ones I had seen on Earth, filled with a bright green fluid, bubbling away as fumes got absorbed into the ventilation. I kneeled down, keeping the pistol ready as I scanned the room.

>Scanning… Biological signature acquired and added to database. >Scanning for life signs…

“Great, that is the data we need, send it over and we’ll start our tests on it.”

I uploaded parts of the data, keeping some of the important bits to myself.

“The signal seems choppy, could you locate one of our old terminals and get everything from there? Then upload that to us. Those things should still be connected, but without a user on one end, we can’t get to it.”

I’ll cut out the understood and okay messages from this text, but trust me, my voice box is still active. I breached into a terminal with my own protocols and started scanning through the system. Every file I sent, I copied over to my own system. My ace in the hole, the one card I could drew if needed.

The data transfer was moved over to the internal systems of the facility, leaving me free from the task. I had a look around the area. The vats took most of the room, but there were several other secure canisters around, loaded seemingly to be transported to other test sites. Moon, Site white. Earth, Site Yellow. The last one was blacked out, only stating “CLASSIFIED” with large red lettering. The canister model was made to include a set of sensors and an automatic mechanism for neutralizing the content if it ever got out of the set limits. If only I had a tracker on me…

The radio had been silent for a good while now, and the camera had been disabled. I checked my suit, the filters still had around 2 hours in them, but any longer would cause damage. I returned back to the door and entered the code into the keypad. A loud error beep echoed inside the vat room, the code had changed.

There was no way I could break my way through the door. It had been designed to stand against a small nuke, and I didn’t have anything that could burn through, the breaching charge I had found was gone, likely taken by the scientists. I pulled my pistol and thought about just ending it here, but with people relying on me, the androids on the surface, Ella, and Valkyrie. I am not giving up here.

I need a way out, but putting a 9mm through my CPU wasn’t it. This room is quite secure, but there are exits that might not seem obvious… The vents would lead out of here, but I couldn’t fit in them with the suit on. I scanned the room several times, before I located a mechanic loader unit, deep underneath the vats. This sounds promising.

I grabbed a spool of rope and attached it around the catwalk railing. 200 meters down, but this time that creature wasn’t here to cut my line. I placed my hands around the rope and started sliding down.

>Heat buildup detected, slow down.

With steady pace, I lowered myself to the floor below. The air down here is cleaner, but the amount of dust is still worrying. None of the vats are leaking, this makes no sense… the ventilation above was on full power, pumping… outwards… This containment breach wasn’t an accident. The filters inside the ventilation and the amount of sensors in the vents would have shut off the systems in case of a chemical leak. I am not sure about the feeling I had, but it was a mix between anger and genuine hatred for I had met. I had trusted them… and now I was stuck here, at least until I could make my way out.

Playing with fire is a sure way to get burned, and I’m not talking about a small flame.

>Phoenix protocol ready. Heat building up…

This is only going to end one way. That loader is somewhere around here, but my sensors couldn’t get an accurate reading on where it was. Left or right?

If I had a coin, I would flip it, but seeing as I went left upon my first entry here, I’ll take right for now. A small booth with a corpse of man in a hazmat suit sat at a terminal, his final words marked on the screen.

“To my wife, I will miss you. To my daughter, I won’t be home to help you with your homework. This is all a cleaver trick, blame it all on the man who is meant to keep this place under control, but release the virus without warning. Fuck the corporation, and all those who work with them.” I pulled the slumped corpse up to see his mask still mounted with filters. A keycard hanging from his neck, Oscar. Do not worry Oscar, I plan on taking some of them with me, even if it means burning up the final charge on my battery.

I grabbed the filters and apologized for my attitude.

>Calming down, releasing heat.

Keep calm, they want you to lose. Rage will only lead you to lose even more than you currently are. Trapped, low on filters and battery, almost no ammo… the list could go on. I placed the pistol back on my holster and opened the zipper on my coat. The chemical down here was only traces, so just the mask was enough to filter it. The coat, with its armor, will still provide protection for my limbs, so I will keep it on, but now I must vent this heat.

>Deploying heatsinks… Fly like the wind…

It has never told me that, but I can see why it would. Fully extended, my heatsinks share some similarities to wings, but flight would be impossible, my chassis is too heavy for that.

>Heat levels normalizing…Internal temperature lowered.

The heatsinks returned back inside and I got the jacket back on. This day had taken a turn for much worse, but I am sure I can bounce back from this. This area is filled with construction equipment, but no loader in sight.

I have to carry on.

[darth-dre]

Ransom

Warnings: Mad Kylo. Angry Kylo. Killer Kylo. Fluffy Kylo... and some violence towards the reader.

Word Count: 2278

A/N: Requested by Anon: 

I have another idea what if the reader is Kylo's wife who he takes out one day but she gets kidnapped, not by the Rebellion but rather by random people who want ransom money to give her back, sending videos of them harming her as proof and etc the whole cheesy kidnapping game and he goes on a mad hunt to find her and rescues her? 

Enjoy guys! At least; I hope you do! <3

Reader

“Why are you staring at me?” Y/N asked Kylo, as she handed a cake to a small child.

“Because,” he simply stated, smirking.

Y/N blushed and felt shy again, like she did when they first met. They’ve been married for a few years now, and he still had that effect on her.

Kylo stared at her as she kneeled down to speak to the children, handing them sweets and toys. This was what he loved about her; her open heart.

And although he tried to keep his feelings secret, everyone knew it.

“Sir,” a stormtrooper approached him, “General Hux wishes to speak with you.”

He nodded and turned to Y/N, “I’ll be fine, Kylo, go on.”

Kylo hesitated, not wanting to leave her alone, but she insisted, and he turned to the two troopers behind them, speaking softly so only they could her, “Guard her with your life. If anybody tries to harm her, shoot them down.”

The troopers nodded, and he turned back to Y/N, “I’ll be back soon.”

She planted a soft kiss on his lips. He smiled at her, and she turned her attention back to the children. Kylo walked off, still hesitant, and still wanting to bring her with him.

It was when he was gone, and out of range, that they moved in on her.

It was quick, it was sudden; they stunned the troopers, and Y/N was confused when the children ran off, screaming. As she was about to turn, she felt a strong hand pull her back.

She gasped, “What—”

And then a cloth was pressed harshly against her face; the smell was disgusting and she tried not to breathe it in, but within seconds of the cloth coming into contact with her skin, she felt dizzy. She felt tired. And she tried to yell, her voice was not working, though, and she felt herself being lifted up off her feet, and being carried away… away from Kylo, away from everything.

Kylo

Kylo lit his saber, smacking the computers in front of him. His temper was off the rails right now, he was on edge, and he was feeling rather vengeful. He got the news about Y/N’s abduction shortly after he reached the ship. And in his anger, he ran back towards the lower district of the city, hoping to catch the culprits.

But they were long gone, and if the children hadn’t seen him kissing Y/N, they wouldn’t have explained what happened to her.

“They were big,” was all the children said about the men that took her. He sighed in frustration, children are the worst witnesses.

He tried to calm himself, remembering how Y/N would calm him, deep breaths, deep breaths.

After destroying a variety of the technology in front of him, he shut off his lightsaber and he slowly turned to Phasma, who stood in her place, unfazed by her commander’s tantrum. He pushed his hair back out of his face, straightening himself up, “You said you got the security footage?”

“I reviewed it myself, sir,” she answered, “It looked like they had her routine down; the market district, then the lower districts to deliver her daily charity.”

Kylo smiled to himself, as much as you were his other half, your heart was kind, his was full of turmoil. It was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place.

“Did you find out who it was?”

“A small raider gang that was formed on Jakku, however, they don’t stay on one planet for too long.”

Kylo snarled, softly, “Of course not.”

“Sir, you should know, her kidnappers, they made contact,” Phasma informed.

“When?”

“Shortly after you boarded; I should warn you though, the way they made contact—it’s not pleasant, and you would not like it,” she said, a little softly.

“Show me,” he ordered, his voice low, almost desperate.

“As you wish,” Phasma quickly brought up the video on her holo.

Kylo turned to look at it and he held his breath at the sight in front of him; his rage spilled over when he saw a masked man punching Y/N in the face, the person making the video zoomed in on her face, bloody and swollen.

He clenched his fist as he heard the voice of the man that was beating his wife, “This is for the infamous Kylo Ren; we have your wife. If you want her back, alive, and in one piece, you will pay the ransom we ask for. Once we receive the amount required, we will drop her off at the nearest city, on the nearest planet and be on our way. If it is not paid in the next solar day, we will cut and send you a body part, and the ransom will rise.”

Kylo could sense Phasma eyeing him, but he stared at the holo, the man walked forward, adding one last thing, “I suggest you make it fast, Master Knight of Ren, she really is a pretty girl, and I would hate to have to cut her up to make a point to you.”

The holo cut off and Kylo, trying to contain his anger, asked Phasma, “Were you able to track it?”

“I have the First Order’s finest working on it; I took the liberty of making it top priority,” she responded.

“And the troopers that were to be guarding her?”

“Awaiting your command on what we should do with them.”

Kylo brushed his lightsaber softly, “Bring them to me.”

Phasma nodded, and abruptly left the room. Kylo stood in his spot; his anger was overwhelming to the point where all he felt was numb. He rubbed his face, trying to get the image of her being beaten out of his mind.

They will pay for harming her.

They will suffer.

Phasma showed up moments later with the troopers that guarded Y/N. Kylo held his hands behind his back as he walked towards them. He stared at each one for a few moments, “You were to be guarding her; you were supposed to protect her when I wasn’t around.”

He rolled his eyes, a gesture he normally didn’t do, unless he was fed up, “But, I suppose that’s what happens when I place my trust in someone else.”

“We apologize, sir, it will never happen again,” one of the troopers said.

Kylo smirked, “You’re right, it won’t.”

He lit his saber and quickly swiped it across both of them, tearing through their armor. Their bodies fell instantly. Shutting off his saber, he looked at Phasma, “Tell the trackers to pick up their pace; I want results within the next three hours. No more.”

She nodded, “Right away Commander, but if I may ask; what do propose to do once you find her location? Should I ready a squad?”

“Do it, and make sure they’re your best,” he said, walking out of the room.

He needed to get his mind off of the situation at hand, he needed to prepare himself; three hours was enough time to do so. And he made a promise to himself, and silently, to her, that he would kill them all.

Reader

Y/N’s head throbbed, all she could do was endure what they were doing to her. She tasted the iron taste of blood in her mouth and winced as she tried to shut her eyes, she had a feeling there were swelled beyond belief.

She could hear the sound of the men speaking, talking about what they were going to do once the First Order paid up.

“What makes you so sure they’ll pay?”

Another man sighed, “That girl, is Kylo Ren’s wife; they’ll pay.”

“He’s a fucking Jedi Killer,” the first man said, a shiver in his voice, “Imagine what he’ll do to us when—”

“They won’t find us, kid, our tech is top of the line, the salesman said so; nobody can track us, besides, when they pay, we’ll drop her ass off on Jakku and be far gone by the time they get to her. It’ll work.”

Y/N chuckled inside, were these men stupid?

What the hell makes them think Kylo will let them get away?

They could go to another galaxy and Kylo would not stop hunting them.

She knew she didn’t have to worry about anything, all she had to do was endure the pain. Kylo would be there for her; she trusted in him.

Kylo

Kylo did not wait. As soon as he got the news that they tracked them to an abandoned outpost in Tatooine, he quickly boarded the ship with Phasma and the troopers trailing behind him. He was angry, beyond angry.

He wore his helmet, and his hood over his face to hide his disturbed emotions. The last thing he needed, was anyone to tell him he was off his rockers, which he was, but still.

He sat silently, in the co-pilots chair. Once they approached the planet, he commanded to Phasma, “Open fire as soon as we arrive at their base; no prisoners.”

“Understood.”

It was a few moments later, that they landed at the base, and the raiders opened fire. Kylo opened fire from the co-pilot station, shooting relentlessly. He could hear Phasma shout for the stormtroopers to follow her, they marched out and returned fire on them on the raiders.

Kylo quickly left the co-pilots chair, and as he descended the ramp, he switched his lightsaber on, deflecting oncoming shots.

“They’re here!”

“Fall back, fall back!”

He stalked forwards, towards the voices and cut down everyone and everything in his path. He sensed someone try to shoot him from behind, he used to force to paralyze him and bring him forwards; Kylo quickly wrapped his hands around his throat. He breathed heavily through his helmet, “Where is she?”

“In the lower levels, with the boss,” the raider answered, trying to catch his breath. Kylo squeezed tightly, crushing his windpipe, and swiftly snapped his neck.

He turned, towards the entrance of the base as the remaining raiders scurrying into the underground building. Phasma and her troops followed behind him as he stuck he stuck his arm out and pushed. The large metal door was sent flying backwards into the building, crushing the raiders that hid behind the door.

As he entered the building, blasters were being fired and he deflected each and every hit, allowing Phasma and the Stormtroopers to fire back at them without worrying about receiving fire. Kylo’s frustration was building, he could feel her here.

He could feel her excitement, and he smiled inside of his helmet. He allowed the feeling to overtake him, slicing anyone that got in his way.

He walked down the stone steps at the end of the hall. She was near, very near.

Kylo zoned in on her thoughts, and he could hear her, He’s got a blaster pointed at my temple.

He slowly descended the steps, how many are there?

Three.

He reached the bottom of the steps, eyeing the one that held Y/N, holding her like a human shield, pointing a blaster to her head, and quickly glancing at the other two that stood on either side of him, nervously pointing their blasters at him.

“Release her,” he demanded, holding his lightsaber steady in front of him, tilting it.

The one that held Y/N answered, “Where’s our ransom money?”

“You’re worried about ransom money? He could kill us!”

Kylo nodded, “I could.”

The boss, he assumed, shifted his eyes nervously, “Alright—alright, we’ll let her go... after we board our ship.”

Kylo tilted his head. His eyes fell on Y/N as she stared at him. He reached out to her, her eyes were angry as he probed her thoughts, don’t you dare.

He nodded, “Very well.”

The raiders sighed in relief, “Oh thank the—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kylo said, darkly.

By the time they realized what he meant, he used the force to knock all three of them backwards. Y/N ran towards him, and he quickly shoved her up the stairs as the men started shooting their blasters at him; he deflected them and rapidly moved forward, slicing one of the raiders in half, and cutting on from his navel to his chest.

He twirled his lightsaber and petrified the boss, who was staring at him in horror. Kylo slowly walked towards him, squatting down in front of him, “You put your hands on my wife,” he grabbed the man’s face, tightly, “For that, you will die very slowly.”

As he kept the man paralyzed, he used his lightsaber to cut bits and pieces off of him, making sure he didn’t pass out from shock, so he could watch what was being done to him; just as he had to watch his beloved Y/N get beaten.

Kylo ascended the steps a while later. His eyes fell on Y/N, as she tiredly sat with her back against the wall. He kneeled down in front of her, pulling his helmet off and tossing it on the floor, next to the dead bodies.

He gently touched her bloody, bruised and swollen face, leaning his forehead against hers, careful not to harm her, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

She chuckled, “It’s fine; you came for me, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m never letting you out of my sight, again,” Kylo said. She smiled softly at him, and he felt his anger diminish; he felt whole and alive. He pulled her into his arms and gently scooped her up, carrying her out of the bunker. He held back the tears that were pooling in his eyes as she nuzzled against his chest, and whispered, “I knew you’d come.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead, “Always, sweetheart.”

I hope you guys liked it! <3 I got a few more that I’m working and should be up by tomorrow. XD

@inumorph

Also, if you wanna be tagged in any of my stories, please let me know so I can start a tag list. XD

[seashellwriter]

A Charming Obsession Ch. 2

Tap, tap, tap.

Nimble fingers flash across keyboard keys, dull, blue eyes glued onto a brightly lit screen. One of Waylon's legs bounces up and down in a nervous tick, his laptop lighting up his face in the inky blackness of his study. His eyes dart across the screen, rereading his email to the detective assigned to his case, before sending it with a tap on the enter key. In the back of his mind, he's unsure if he even should contact him, not knowing if the police will let him help out on finding the murderer of his wife, or his kids. But, he can't just... Sit here and do nothing... He can't... Not when...

Not when the ones who killed his wife and kids are out there, free.

Why did Lisa have to die? Why did his boys have to die?

Was it because... He went out to a bar when he should've apologized to Lisa instead? Was it because he should've watched the boys more carefully, instead of going to the restroom and leaving them out as perfect pickings for a deranged lunatic?

A lump is forming in his throat as he grits his teeth, slapping his face into the palms of his hands before scrubbing at his sore eyes.

If he came home sooner... If he only watched the kids and ensured their safety... They'd still be alive, wouldn't they?  

He chokes out a sob, shuddering breaths escaping him as tears spill out from his eyes and wet his hands. Each cry that escapes him wracks his form, a deep gloom pressing against his ribcage almost painfully.

Lisa and his kids didn’t deserve to die… to be murdered… To be carelessly printed across headlines depicting their gruesome deaths.  

God he swore... If he ever found the murderer of his wife, or the murderer of his kids... He'd... He'd-  

Do what?

Could he really hurt someone?

Loud, clear knocks on his front door startle him out of his grief, making him whip his head around to look over his shoulder into the dark. He's hesitantly standing up from his computer chair, wiping at his red, puffy eyes, and wondering who in their right mind would be visiting him at... A glance at the digital clock on his laptop tells him it's midnight. His bare feet slap against the cool, wooden floor as he walks warily to the front door, grateful that the owner of the apartment complex let him move into a new room, otherwise he'd be walking by where he found... He's taking a deep breath, fumbling with the lock on the knob.

'What if it's Lisa's murderer?'

The sudden thought has his hands freezing in midair, before he shakes his head roughly to knock some sense back into himself.

'I need to stop scaring myself like that... It's probably just the police wanting to question me again, or even a harmless late-night doorbell ditcher. I'm just being paranoid.'

'I'm just being fucking paranoid.'

Despite these reassuring thoughts, it takes him a moment to gather up enough courage to crack open the door, tensing up and swallowing thickly. He's puzzled to find not a single soul outside, swinging the door open fully before turning his head left and right, only to see the empty, gray walkway, lined with railing and lit up by a row of dim lights, casting menacing shadows over numbered doors. When he boldly takes a step forward out and is about to confirm that yes, his theory about a late-night doorbell ditcher is correct, his foot crunches against something smooth. His gaze turns down and lands onto a white envelope, along with a bouquet of vibrant, red roses.  

"Huh?" His eyes widen in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Is this some kind of joke? Maybe someone got the wrong apartment.

He plucks the envelope off of the door mat, smoothing it out with his fingertips before turning it over to see if there's any sign to who it's really for. 'To my darling Waylon' is written neatly on the back in black ink, written in a familiar cursive that he's sworn he's seen before.  

It... Really is for him.

Eyes.... It suddenly feels as if there's eyes on him, sharp and watching his every move, pinning him like a helpless bug. A chill runs up his spine, goosebumps prickling up his arms and legs. He quickly snatches the flowers up before turning on his heel and slamming the door closed behind him, locking everything back up in a flash.

'Fuck, fuck calm down...'

He's taking in shaky breaths, his hands trembling more from fear than from the cold outside.

This is ridiculous, there's no reason to be scared... He's acting like a child...

But, why would someone leave roses and a letter on his doorstep in the middle of the night?

It's probably someone fucking with him, maybe they thought it'd be funny to scare him, they're probably laughing their ass off from how easily he got spooked and rushed back inside.  

But... How do they know his name?

He gingerly sets the roses down onto the island in the kitchen, before his blunt nails dig into the sealed crease of the envelope, ripping it open. Dread is curling around in his gut as he lifts out the nicely folded up piece of paper contained within the envelope. Curiosity has him pressing onward as conflicting thoughts threaten to stop him, unfolding the paper carefully before narrowing his eyes at the neat cursive covering the page.

'Dear Waylon,

I hope you’re doing alright, darling. It pains me to see you suffering without me, your face twisting with a sorrow I've never seen from you before. You aren’t alone, I promise my dear. Trust me. You don’t need them.  

Not when I’m always here for you.’

He’s frozen in shock, blue eyes sliding across the words again, before he lets out a startled yelp from the sudden loud blaring of his phone. The letter leaves his hands, in favor of taking out the noisy device from his jeans and answering the phone in a blind panic.

"H-Hello?"

"Hey... Is this Waylon Park?" The voice on the other line belongs to a man, his tone unsure and hesitant.

"Um... Yes..."

"Oh good!" The man perks up, obviously relieved, "Sorry to be all allusive and everything, I just wanted to make sure that I have the right number. I'm detective Miles Upshur, I just got your email."

Relief floods through Waylon, his stiff shoulders relaxing, "Heh, it's fine. I didn’t expect you to contact me so soon.”

“Well, I guess you can say that I’m married to my work,” Mr. Upshur jokes, before his tone takes a more serious turn, “Anyways… You said you wanted to discuss your wife’s case?”

“Y-Yeah...” Waylon murmurs out, scratching the back his neck with his free hand.

Now that he’s actually talking to him, he… Can’t seem to find the right words.

“I… I want to help out… With the case,” He blurts out.

There’s a pause, moments ticking by, before Mr. Upshur speaks again, “You know... You actually might be of some use actually.”

“Wha- really?” He hardly believes it.

That was easier than he thought.

“Yes...” Mr. Upshur states slowly,  papers rustling in the background from the phone. “How about we meet up at my office and discuss this… It isn’t good to do it on the phone. Wouldn’t want this to somehow get out.”

“I… Yes. Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet, I said you might be of some use. Anyways… Does tomorrow sound good to you?”  

Waylon goes quiet at that, before letting out a quiet sigh, “Oh… I can’t tomorrow… I’m going to my wife’s funeral…. But, the day after tomorrow I can.”

Dread pools at the bottom of his stomach, he doesn’t want to go to her funeral… It’s one of the reasons he can’t sleep, besides not being able to get the image of his wife, butchered up and bloody, strewn across the floor, lifeless… not moving… out of his mind.

“Ah… I’m sorry…. Yeah, Wednesday will work,” There’s sympathy in Mr. Upshur’s tone, but Waylon doesn’t react to it.

He’s soon scrambling to grab a pen and a sticky note when Mr. Upshur starts giving him the address and time to meet up at. They then exchange their goodbyes, before hanging up the phone.

Waylon sighs again, setting his phone beside the beautiful roses sitting on the counter top. He glances down at the fallen paper on the floor, bending over and picking it back up before smoothing it out. Now that he’s thinking a bit more clearly… He realizes that this note... It's a lot like the note he found after he got wasted... It would explain why the handwriting and diction is so eerily familiar.

He swallows at the realization, a jolt of terror running up his spine.

‘I’ll be seeing you again soon.’  

His face pales into a few shades of white, his stomach dropping, before crumpling up the note with firm, trembling hands.

How the hell is he supposed to get any sleep tonight?

…

It's hard to look at Lisa's polished, wooden coffin, when it’s easy to imagine what lies beyond the closed lid.

Lifeless green eyes.

That metallic stench searing onto his nostrils like a branding iron.

Blood....  

So much blood.

'Fuck, fuck, breathe.'

He's numb, cold, the chatter and mourning of relatives nothing but background noise, almost static to Waylon’s ears, as his glazed, blue eyes gaze down on her coffin. His sons' two headstones aren't too far away, right by the area where his wife is about to rest for eternity.

'They're gone.'  

The thought hits him like a bucket of shards stabbing into him.

'I'll never see them again.'

His breathing has gone ragged, his dress shoes skidding against frost coated grass as he distances himself from the crowd, from Lisa's disappearing coffin, from his two buried boys with skittish steps. His right-hand clenches down onto his arm in an iron grip, nails digging into the fabric of his black suit, as he can only watch as Lisa's slowly lowered into the ground.

"How could you?!"

He’s jostled out of his agonized reverie when a man violently grabs him by the collar, his eyes meeting an intense, hate filled gaze.

It's... Lisa's father.

"Why weren't you with Lisa?! Why?" The old man's grasp is shaky with anger, his teeth bared as his voice cracks from how loud he's screaming, "Why?!"

Why wasn't he with Lisa?

Why did he go out to a bar instead?

Why, why, why?  

If only he knew how much he fucking asked himself that same exact question. How if only he tried to coax Lisa into letting him back in, perhaps things would’ve ended up differently, perhaps he could've protected her, perhaps Lisa would still be alive.

"Let him go, Charles! Leave the poor man alone! Don't do this here... Not at her funeral... Please..." Lisa's mother steps in, hands squeezing onto the old man's shoulder and arm in desperation, until finally, he unhands Waylon.

Waylon immediately takes a couple of steps back, but Lisa's father only stands there, wearing a defeated, worn out expression that makes him look older and frailer.  

"You're such a coward for leaving her alone like that."

The blond’s eyes are cast down, tracing the individual specks of ice decorating the ground, as shame swirls within his gut. It's true, he was a god damn coward for running away from his wife like that, for trying to escape his personal struggles with alcohol. He can’t even deny it. He lets out a sigh before turning on his heel, walking away from the gloom ridden area.

“What, don’t tell me you’re running away again, boy,” Lisa’s father jabs, voice cool and rough on the winter air.

He almost makes a sarcastic quip in response, but instead holds his tongue, not wanting to deal with another confrontation. He doesn’t even turn back or stop on the short path to his worn down, grey car, effectively ignoring the old man.

‘I’m sorry Lisa, I hope you can forgive me for leaving early.’

...

Snow pelts against the tiny car’s frame, windshield wipers frantically wiping away at white spots of snow obscuring Waylon’s line of sight. Great, tall mountain peaks stretch high into the sky before him, white, glittering puffs of snow lining the icy road. The road is barren, with the exception of a red pickup truck about a car length behind him. He's bored out of his mind, forgoing the radio to instead sit in utter silence, Lisa could pop up anytime on the news after all.  

'Lisa...'

He's sighing, loosening the black tie around his neck in order to distract himself temporarily, when suddenly, a blur of brown and black darts out in front of him from the corner of his eye. He's slamming on the brakes, his tires releasing a shrill screech, as he narrowly avoids the lone deer deciding to cross the road. His car goes into a spin from his sudden move on the ice caked pavement, a terrified, shocked cry ripping from him as he tries to regain control of his car. His car is flying off the road and heading right smack into a pine tree before he can even blink.

SMASH!

He's panting after the impact, his fingernails biting into the leather of the steering wheel as his heart threatens to leap out of his ribcage. Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he recovers, slowly letting go of the steering wheel from his tight grasp. A loud, brisk knock on the driver's window has him turning his head in a daze, the sight of a tall, well-built man greeting him with concerned blue eyes.

"Are you ok?!"

Waylon blinks hard a few times, everything coming at him so fast.

"W-What?"

The man presses a gloved hand against the window, his other trying to yank open the door in a worried, frantic manner. Waylon however made sure to lock it before even starting the drive home, so it doesn't budge.  

"Please, tell me you're ok! Are you injured?" The man's talking again, but this time Waylon's able to decipher his words.

Waylon's eyes swipe over his own sitting form, searching for any injuries and spotting none, before glancing around at the warped, pressed in interior of his car.

"I... I don't think so," He murmurs out slowly, before moving his hand over to unlock the door and open it.  

He shivers at the sudden blast of cold air washing over him, and the man's immediately on him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and helping him out of the car. His legs are shaky and unstable due to how shell shocked he still is, causing one of his hands to grab onto the stranger's thick, black coat in order to keep himself upright. He manages to glance back at the smashed up, grey wreckage of his car, wincing at the sight of it.

'Fuck.'

"Come, darling, we'll be safer away from the wreckage."

Waylon's led by a strong hand curled around his arm, towards a red pickup truck parked on the side of the road. He recognizes the car as the one that was behind him earlier. The man's taking out a flip phone as soon as they reach it, wrapping an arm around Waylon in order to support him. He barely catches the man calling 911, before he manages to untangle himself from the man's arm when he has his bearings gathered, taking a few steps back to a breathable distance. He finds himself glancing back again at what's left of his poor car.

The universe must really have it out for him...

The man eventually hangs up the phone with a charming goodbye, before snapping the phone closed with a single flick of his wrist. He turns his gaze down at the shaken up blond, worry filling those big blue orbs.

"Are you alright?" His voice is deep and soft, speaking to Waylon as if he's about to break into a million pieces.

"Y-Yeah... Just... My car..." He lets out a defeated huff at his own statement, before crossing his arms tightly over his chest from the chilly temperature outside.

'Why do I even try?'

A light, warm weight is suddenly draped over Waylon's shoulders, causing the blond to snap up from his slouched posture out of surprise.  

"Wha-" Is all that comes out of his mouth, as he looks over the large coat now covering his form.

His pale blue eyes finally rise up to meet the man's tender gaze, his brows knitting in confusion at his generous act.

"Please, take it, darling... You were shivering."

"Um... Alright. Thank you," He murmurs out, his face reddening as he tugs the coat over himself a little more.

The man dashingly smiles at him in reply, white pearly teeth showing from his peeled back lips.  

Waylon's eyes trace over the man's sharp jaw line, and prominent cheek bones, before eyeing the smoothed out black hair topping his head. The stranger's surprisingly tall, and Waylon's always considered himself as a tall guy, having the proud height of 6'1. But, this man towers over him, having to have another foot over him. This, added with his broad shoulders and hulking chest, has Waylon on edge, even though it shouldn't... He seems nice enough.

“The police will be here within an hour... In the meantime, I suggest we wait and warm up in my car, in order for you to not catch a cold, Waylon.”

The simple statement has Waylon snapping his attention over to the man’s eyes with his shocked own.

“How… How do you know my name?” A disconcerting twist in his gut has his voice cracking nervously, causing him to take a small step back.

“I’ve seen you on the news,” The man replies, his face a calm mask of indifference, “I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you…”

“No, it’s fine… I should’ve known,” The blond sighs out, relief flooding over him, as tension leaves his rigid form, “I… Haven’t been watching the news… I suppose you can guess why.”

He lets out a hushed, humorless laugh, pain flickering across his face, “I was actually just at… Never mind.”

The man’s staring down at him worriedly now- and ah fuck, he really did it this time with his self-pitying bullshit.

He puts on a fake smile in order to assure the kind stranger, “I’m fine... really!”

What a blatant lie.

“I can’t imagine what you must be going through, darling,” The stranger takes a step closer towards Waylon and is reaching out a hand in order to comfort him.

The movement has Waylon tensing up, the large hand resting on his shoulder causing his whole body to freeze up as he attempts to smooth out his expression to feign indifference.

'It's ok... This guy is ok... He's not going to hurt you... He was just leading you to his fucking car a moment ago for Christ sake!'

"Y-You know... That was a pretty big deer that I-I almost... H-Hit..." Waylon stutters out loudly, putting on a sheepish grin.

The man’s hand falls, an almost hurt expression passing over his face, but it’s gone before Waylon can really even process it.

“Yes… That was a rather brave feat you did, skidding and avoiding that ignorant creature.”

“Heh… Y-Yeah… I j-just… I don’t know if I’d be able to stand myself if I hurt another living creature like that… Even if it was accidental…” Waylon pictures the mashed-up deer, what could've easily been, and shivers with how much the mental image reminds him of his dead wife.

“I know…”  

“Huh?”

“You just seem like the kind of person to be… exceptionally heroic,” The man states, his deep blue eyes distant and glazed as if he’s remembering something.

“Oh… I do? Uh… Well thanks I guess,” Waylon says, before letting out a nervous chuckle.

The two of them stand there for some time, the conversation eventually tampering out, until they're surrounded in a peaceful, comfortable silence. Waylon never does take up the stranger’s offer to sit in the pickup truck, too paranoid, too unsafe in his mind, and luckily the man never comments on it. Eventually a cop car arrives through the falling snowflakes and obscuring gray fog, and Waylon's immediately on his feet, running towards the car in a rush. As he's turning back around and explaining the car accident, he notices the stranger is gone.

He’s left confused by the man simply up and leaving, the only reminder of him is the black coat still draped over his shoulders.  

He didn’t even get his name.

He decides to push the… unique… encounter out of his head forcefully, before dealing with the police with as clear of a mind as he can manage.

…

Waylon arrives home tired and weary, his legs heavy as he drags himself up the stairs to his second floor apartment. He’s wringing his tie out of its neat knot, his other hand unlocking the door. He’s almost expecting to greet Lisa with his two sons, but the little living space is empty, completely devoid of anyone. It wretches at his heart painfully, but he manages to bottle his emotions up, to keep everything in. That’s when he catches something out of place-

The roses that he left lying out on the kitchen counter last night, are now sitting upright in a vase of water.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Avec Nocturne Epilogue Pt. 1

Plot: We work at the same club and share a lot in common. Because we got off on the wrong foot, I’ve been trying to make it up to you. While walking you to the subway station, I see you hugging another guy. We’re just co-workers but it kind of bothers me. Why is that?

Rating: PG-13 (Language, Flirting, Implied voyeurism/sexual content, etc.)

Characters: DJ!Chanyeol x Kit OC, feat. OT12 and guest appearance by Exchange Student!Kim Namjoon/RM and Bi-curious Fan!Jimin

Notes: This is a spin-off (no pun intended!) series of Unwind written by @xiubaek13 and @oh-beyond. (Written with their blessing – thank you!) I own nothing except for my own OC and the content written here. (I recommend reading Unwind first to get a better understanding of the story’s universe.) I do not claim to be an expert in DJ-ing. Banner created by me. Absolutely no reposting anywhere else as your own! This is set months after the original spin-off series.

Ch. 7 | Epilogue Part 2 NSFW

“How’d it go with that VIP experience?” Chanyeol asked as Kit heaved her messenger bag onto her shoulder.

Kit scrunched her nose up and made an amused face as she pointed to the doorway. Chanyeol took the hint and both headed outside of the club, walking a few steps away before talking again.

“Honestly kind of awkward,” Kit admitted as she wrapped her fingers around her bag. “Granted, I was outside the door spinning for Luhan and his lady friend but I felt really weird having to listen to them. Girl’s a loud moaner and I almost thought they were going to break something in there. Not sure I’ll ever get used to that.”

Chanyeol smirked as he nudged her playfully. “Aw noona’s all shy.”

“Please, I don’t give a damn about people having sex but I don’t wanna be present in a way,” she defended. “Too many bad memories of inconsiderate roommates hooking up in our shared room without giving me a heads up. Very awkward for everyone.”

“It happened a lot?”

“College man,” she sighed rolling her eyes. “God I don’t miss that! Classes were fine, professors were decent, but the dorm experience – hell no.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Listen you don’t have to keep walking me to the station.”

Chanyeol shrugged as he stuck his hands into his pockets. “Well it’s late and I’d feel better knowing you got on safely. Trust me, okay?”

“I appreciate it, but I’m good – my brother had me learn self defense and he insisted I sport steel-toed Docs. No one wants to mess with me if I mention them,” Kit replied with a smirk. She dug around for her subway pass and checked her watch as she approached the station. “Well it should be here any minute. Thanks again.”

Chanyeol nodded and allowed a smile to cross his lips. He watched as the train breezed into the station, stopping before Kit. The doors slid open and Kit stepped through them, glancing over her shoulder at him. She raised a hand while gripping a nearby rail for support, nodding at Chanyeol with a smile.

“Wait!” a male voice yelled.

Chanyeol blinked as a tall young man zipped past him at neck-breaking speed, barely making it through the doors before they closed.

The guy hunched over, clutching his side and Kit tore her gaze from her co-worker to focus on the young man who just entered. The young man straightened up, one hand shakily pushing his dark framed glasses up on his nose. The eyes behind them trailed up to hers and blinked.

“Kit? Kit Adler?” the guy murmured as he gripped the rail near hers.

“Nam?” she asked, staring back in disbelief.

The male smiled widely as he wrapped her in a tight hug, almost losing his balance as the subway lurched forward.

“Careful Captain Chaos,” she joked as she hugged him back, trying to keep both of them steady.

Chanyeol froze as he caught the brief exchange before the subway zoomed out of the station. What just happened? Who was that guy?

“You’re finally on my home turf! Oh man I can’t believe it’s you!” Namjoon blurted out as they exited the subway. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had to get a new phone for this trip and it didn’t save my old contacts list on my SIM,” Kit admitted as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How’s the work on your masters going?”

“Awesome. Well, it’s fucking stressful and I’m this close to tearing my hair out, but yeah I love it! The professors have been dope and I’m actually gonna graduate early!” Namjoon crowed, eyes shining. “You studying abroad or working?”

“Uh kinda working,” Kit replied as she jogged up the steps. “My brother’s friend is doing his service and needed a temporary tenant so he said I ought to do some family hunting too while I’m here. Didn’t find much though – just the nurse who delivered me and a basic description of what happened that day. Work-wise, I’m doing DJ-ing at a club.”

“Oh? Which club?” Namjoon asked as he hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulders.

Kit bit her lip as she sucked in a deep breath. “Er...it’s called EXO? I swear I’m just mixing tracks – nothing’s coming off!”

“Was gonna say,” Namjoon replied with an amused look. “But they actually hire women there? I thought that was kind of a ladies club.”

“Um...I’m the only girl on staff,” she replied with a wince. “They didn’t have a backup DJ so I got hired temporarily then permanently after a weekend shift. I switch off with their main one every other day. It’s...interesting. Um the group’s decent but the customers are crazy – they pay well so it’s something.”

Namjoon nodded as he pressed the crosswalk button, crossing his arms over his chest. He was silent for a few moments and turned to face Kit with a thoughtful look.

“Hey, is that the place where some guy named Kai dances?” he asked.

“You know him?”

“Uh not me, but I have a friend who won’t shut up about him,” Namjoon replied with a shake of his head. “He talked about going to watch Kai but none of our mutual friends wanna go to the club. But now that you’ve mentioned that you work there, maybe I’ll have to volunteer myself as his wingman so I can see you in action.”

“You don’t have to,” Kit said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Hey, I wanna support you,” he said, looking her in the eye. “What days do you work?”

Kit chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to recall her schedule off the top of her head. “Tomorrow and Friday I’m in the booth. Saturday I’m on standby for a private VIP spinning session. Sunday I’m probably handling another VIP or off – need to double check that.”

The crosswalk changed and Namjoon pointed to the opposite side as he walked across, Kit following behind a few steps.

“I’ll check with my friend but I’m thinking it’s gonna be Friday. My last final is tomorrow but not sure about his schedule,” Namjoon replied.

“Noona I missed you!” Sehun whined when Kit passed the bar. He put his dishcloth down and walked over to hug her.

“I was gone for two days,” she laughed as she hugged him back. “A day off and then awkwardly playing musical third wheel to Luhan. I’m sure Chan took fine care of the music here while I was away.”

“Chanyeol-ah did fine but Tao was Tao – he took two nice ladies away from the bar when I was chatting with them,” he complained. “One of them said she wanted to buy another drink from me if I gave her a kiss and then Tao came up and whispered in her ear. She left without buying another drink!”

“Sehunnie, there are other women out there,” Kit sighed as she patted his shoulder. “As for Tao, what else is new? He’ll probably avoid us knowing I’m here for two days then probably handling VIP again.” She checked her watch before excusing herself to set up for tonight’s session.

“Oh um hello gentlemen, how can I help you tonight?” Chen asked as the pair walked up to the desk.

The younger boy fished out his ID and allowed a cheeky grin to cross his lips. “I’m here to watch Kai dance – he is here tonight, right?”

“Oh um yes! Yes he is,” Chen replied as he cross-checked the young man’s ID. He glanced over at Namjoon who produced his, passing it over to Chen.

The taller boy shot Chen a sheepish grin as he pointed to the younger boy. “I’m his wingman tonight. Slash I’m here to support my friend Kit.”

Chen’s eyes lit up as he passed back the IDs to the respective parties. “Oh Kit-noona? Yes she’s one of our DJ’s here – how do you know her?”

“University,” Namjoon replied with a wistful smile. “Met at a party – here I am this clueless transfer student who almost downed one of the worst drinks ever that would probably put me in bed for days and she warned me before I took a sip. Turns out both of us were dragged there by friends, so we ditched and she introduced me to the addictive chain called In-N-Out. It’s a burger place where she’s from by the way.”

Chen nodded as he gestured to the main dance and stage area. “Through those doors. Kai will be performing tonight but not sure if he’ll be first or a little later in the evening. We do have a bar and Kit will be in the DJ booth spinning. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Should I just get water? Or I don’t know maybe I could stand to loosen up a little?” Jimin worried.

“Ji breathe man!” Namjoon said with a shake of his head. “He’s just a dancer – you don’t have to go home with the guy! Tell you what, I’ll buy the first round of drinks, okay? We earned it after this hell week we’ve been through.”

Jimin relaxed his shoulders and nodded as they headed for the bar, grabbing stools to sit on. Sehun looked over his shoulder from restocking the liquors and told them he’d be with them in a minute. Namjoon yanked his wallet out of his pocket before sitting on the neighboring stool, arms straight ahead on the table.

Once Sehun confirmed that he had a full bar, he turned around and addressed the young men seated at his counter. “Good evening, what can I get for you?”

Namjoon turned to Jimin and prompted him for his drink order. Jimin hummed as he craned his neck, trying to see what was available. While the younger male was deciding, Namjoon pointed to a bottle of Hite and Sehun cracked open the container, pouring the contents into a cold glass.

“Soju,” Jimin announced as the beer was passed over to Namjoon. “Three shots of it.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement and slipped a few won from his wallet to pay the tab. Sehun filled three shot glasses with soju and placed them before Jimin, accepting the won from Namjoon with a polite bow.

“Change?”

“Nah man keep it, thanks,” Namjoon replied as he raised his glass. “Cheers Ji – another hellish semester behind us! And also to you getting to ogle over your heartthrob dancer’s ass tonight.”

“Oh come on Nam, shut up!!” Jimin groaned as he quickly downed a shot. His face flushed and he looked around to see who overheard.

Sehun snickered at the exchange and tilted his head. “You guys are here for someone?”

Namjoon jabbed a thumb at Jimin and revealed that the younger boy was here for Kai. “This guy’s got a crush on him and won’t stop going on about his body rolls or how smooth his transitions –”

“I hate you!” Jimin growled as he wiped his mouth after finishing the second shot. His cheeks were slowly starting to flush pink and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re here for someone too?” Sehun prompted Namjoon as he wiped the counter.

“The master of the mixes over there!” Namjoon replied with a grin as he pointed his glass over at the DJ booth. “I’m proud of her – she used to play around with song combos all the time when no one was looking but she’d never share them! I tricked her into posting a few on SoundCloud and boom! Now she’s spinning for real!” He shook his head and smiled fondly before taking a long sip from his glass.

Jimin nearly stumbled off his seat when he saw the lights change on the stage and he blinked as a single light focused on Kai, who was standing in the center. He fumbled with the third shot and swallowed the contents before hastily ditching his stool at the bar to sit closer. Namjoon snickered as he watched his friend shyly move closer to the stage, eyes never leaving Kai.

“Well Kit-noona is in there,” Sehun mused as he pointed to the booth. “You can probably say hi after Kai’s dance. Can I get you or your friend anything else?”

Namjoon shook his head and thanked Sehun before drinking more beer, watching Jimin drool over the older male slipping off his blouse on stage. He rose from his stool and wandered over to the booth, lingering outside the door.

Kit spotted him from the corner of her eye and smiled warmly as she used a free hand to open the door, motioning for Namjoon to join her.

“Is that your friend?” she asked as she glanced over at the flushed faced Jimin.

“Yup, that loser has been eying Kai ever since someone showed him a video of the guy dancing,” Namjoon sighed as he shook his head. “Surprised how calm you are compared to the clients who are throwing their Won left and right.”

“You forget that looks aren’t everything in my book,” Kit reminded him with an amused look. “They’re a perk but I’d prefer chemistry first. Albeit I’ve had my fair share of my co-workers hitting on me.”

Namjoon tilted his head and gestured to Kai with his glass. Kit shook her head no and Namjoon jabbed a thumb at the bar. He received a slight side-to-side nod and he hummed with a knowing grin.

“There’s a few more dancers,” she replied. “Lay, he’ll be on in a bit and two of the private dancers Baekhyun and Suho. Unless your friend’s into them too, you’ll probably miss them tonight.”

“What about the guy at the front?”

“Who Chen? Nah, we’re just friends,” Kit replied. “Oh you thought he was into me because of the whole ‘noona’ deal, didn’t you?”

“He sure perked up when I mentioned your name,” Namjoon remarked. “You can’t blame me for asking – it’s not uncommon for co-workers to find potential mates through working together.”

“Very funny Namjoon,” Kit deadpanned with a pointed look. “Look, just because I spin in a strip club doesn’t mean one of my co-workers wants to bang me.”

“Chanyeol, you’re off today,” Chen informed the tall DJ when the latter approached the desk.

Chanyeol waved it away and murmured he wanted to check for the start of next week. “Luhan-hyung never made it clear who was playing for Tuesday’s gig versus the club so I wanted to...?”

Chen shrugged as he looked through the calendar, clicking on Chanyeol’s name in the scheduling program. “Ah you’re doing the VIP and Kit’s here per her normal schedule. Any other days you want me to double check?”

Chanyeol shook his head and murmured that he wanted to stop by to say hi quick. The schedule questions were just an excuse for him to stop in – he actually was hoping to ask Kit if she knew the young man who almost missed the subway last night.

It was late last night and I’d feel better knowing that she wasn’t harassed by a drunk, he told himself. He stepped through the doors and frowned when he saw another person standing beside Kit in the box.

“Ah hyung, I thought you were off today,” Sehun remarked when he spotted Chanyeol.

“Who’s that?” Chanyeol asked as he nodded over at the blonde next to Kit, who was pushing his glasses up.

“Oh he’s noona’s friend,” Sehun murmured. “Or well, I think they’re friends – he’s known her for a while. He’s responsible for getting her to do DJ-ing for real.”

Chanyeol tilted his head, brows knit as he watched the blonde point to a guy in the front, who was staring up at Kai with a dazed look. Kai had winked in the young man‘s direction and Kit seemed to be holding back a laugh when her blonde companion made a joke about it. The blonde had his hair styled in an uppercut and was pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Noona’s boyfriend? he thought as he watched them.

“Oh Ji looks like he’s died and gone to heaven!” Namjoon hooted as he doubled over laughing. His glass tipped forward and suddenly Hite beer had spilled over the front of Kit’s shirt and shorts.

“Shit! I’m so sorry Kit!” Namjoon blurted out when he realized what happened. He scanned the turn tables and machinery to make sure he hadn’t spilled anything on them and Kit followed suit before confirming that everything else in the booth was fine.

“I’ll get a towel, okay?” Namjoon said as he headed back toward the bar, trying to move quickly without spilling his beer again. While he was making his way over, Chanyeol made a beeline for the booth, pulling his jacket and flannel shirt off as he approached.

Kit removed her headphones and jumped slightly when she saw Chanyeol in the doorway. “Hey Slim Shady, thought you were off today.”

Chanyeol placed his flannel shirt in her hand and pointed with the other in the direction of the bathrooms. “Had to check my schedule for next week. Go change into that okay?”

“Chan it’s fine.”

Chanyeol shook his head and leaned closer, lips grazing her ear. “You shouldn’t be playing in wet clothes, not in this weather. Please go change?”

Kit sighed as she quickly checked her playlist, confirming that she had enough playing before slipping out of the booth with Chanyeol’s flannel in hand. Namjoon rushed to her side with the towel and bowed, offering several apologies. Sehun busied himself with drying Namjoon’s empty glass, watching as the scene unfolded before his eyes: Kit trying to reassure Namjoon that it was fine while dabbing excess beer with the towel, the latter saying sorry repeatedly with a flushed face, and Chanyeol watching the pair with a slightly bitter glint in his eyes.

“Nam it’s fine! It happens okay? Oh, I think your friend’s recovered – you might wanna go talk to him,” Kit said before excusing herself.

“Hyung, are you jealous?” Sehun asked Chanyeol.

Chanyeol blinked at the question and snorted. “Sehun it’s not a K-Drama – you’re being ridiculous! I just thought noona should change out of those clothes.”

Sehun nodded with an amused look as he placed the glass with the others. “Sure, you know best.” He bit back a smile as he replaced the soju with the other liquors. “Not sure why you’re still hanging around,” he murmured to himself with a shake of his head.

Namjoon and Jimin had headed up to the front after the incident, while Chanyeol lingered between the booth and the bar to ensure music was still playing.

After minute, Kit emerged sporting Chanyeol’s flannel as a shirt dress and her clothes folded in her hand. Because Chanyeol had longer arms, she was forced to roll up the sleeves a few times to uncover her hands. She tossed back the towel to Sehun and thanked him as she headed to the booth, Chanyeol following behind.

“Thanks Chan,” Kit said as she stuffed her clothes into her bag. “Looks like I’ll be doing laundry when I get home.”

Chanyeol nodded as he placed a hand on her shoulder, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

“You’re almost done, right?” he asked.

“Yes, in 15 minutes,” she sighed as she put her headphones around her neck.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Chan, it’s fine – I’ll take the subway and you can walk me to the station like you’ve done before,” she replied.

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want you riding it this late at night, not while wearing just my shirt. Plus it’s getting colder out.” He watched as Kit tried to protest but he softened his stance and tilted his head. “Please noona?”

Kit sighed as she played with her headphones for a few moments. “Fine.”

“I’ll change quick when we get there so you can take your shirt home,” Kit promised as Chanyeol neared her apartment.

“It’s fine noona,” he said with a shrug.

“I might as well hand it back now – I might not see you until next week, you know ‘cause of scheduling,” she said. She pointed out the visitor lot and Chan picked a spot to park in.

Her keys were in hand as she took the stairs and Chanyeol kept his eyes averted so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse. Kit unlocked the door and pushed it open, holding the door for Chan. He thanked her before stepping through it and glanced around curiously.

“I didn’t decorate or do much – it’s mostly stuff my brother’s friend did to the place,” Kit explained as she hung the keys on the hook by the door. She began untying her boots and kicked them off at the front entrance, Chanyeol following suit by removing his sneakers.

Kit fished her beer-soaked clothes out of her bag and made a beeline for the washer and dryer stacked on top of each other, which was set into the wall. She turned things inside out and tossed in stain remover plus a laundry pod, before shutting the door and programing it for the wash cycle. Chanyeol stood behind her, watching as she did this.

“I’ll change quick – hey, you okay?” Kit froze when she felt the taller boy wrap his arms around her, pulling her close to his body.

“I don’t want this shirt back,” he murmured. “I...like it on you. You look...ah...um, cute in it.”

“Th-thanks?” she said her face feeling warm. “What’s with the compliments and the rides and...?”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Huh? Who – Namjoon? Oh Chan he’s an old friend from college!,” Kit laughed with a shake of her head. “We’re like brother and sister – he is such a klutz and I usually have to be there to save his ass. Trust me, first time we met, he almost drank the spiked punch and would have been sick for a couple of days!”

Chanyeol lifted his head and leaned it on Kit’s shoulder, eyes wide. “What? You mean he’s –”

“What, did someone say we were dating?” Kit shook her head and laughed lightly.

Chanyeol reddened and mumbled that it looked like the other man had been interested. “I misread it – ah I’m sorry noona!”

“Chan, no need to be jealous,” Kit murmured as she patted his head. “No boyfriend right now. ...So does that mean you like me?”

Chanyeol swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, the blush coloring his cheeks.

“Ah um,” he stammered, “ah...I found your SoundCloud page. But, but this was before the VIP event. Chen said I should listen and give you a chance.”

“Did Suho make you jealous too?”

“Noona I like Suho-hyung, he’s talented but very, very flirty,” Chanyeol admitted. “I can’t...explain it, but when he met you that day...”

Kit turned her head and allowed a faint smile to cross her lips. She twisted her body and hugged him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Pinch me...it has to be a dream,” Chan mumbled as he shook his head.

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and tugged him down for a real kiss. His eyes flew open in surprise but soon closed as he twisted his body to hold her in his arms.

“Noona, after we put our differences aside, I thought we were just going to be friends,” Chanyeol admitted as he slowly broke off the kiss. “But it was...hard to see Suho flirt with you, your friend standing so close in the booth-”

“So I grew on you?” she teased. “I’ll be honest, first time we met before you started yelling in my face, I thought ‘Damn he’s tall and hey, that hair’s cool’. Never thought we’d be here now.” She smiled as she released his face and quickly checked her watch. “Did you already eat dinner? ‘Cause if not, I was gonna order takeout somewhere and eat while waiting for my stuff to finish.”

Chanyeol perked up at the mention of food and shook his head, murmuring that he only ate a light snack before coming over to the club. Kit beckoned for him to follow her to the kitchen and dug around in a drawer for some menus. She passed over a few and prompted him to pick one to order from.

“I’ll pay noona,” he said once he selected what he wanted.

“Aww Chan, it’s cool - I’m the one inviting you to stay so -”

Chanyeol shook his head and smiled widely, flashing his teeth. “Ah but noona, a guy should pay on the first date. Also it’s my way of saying I’m sorry for being so jealous earlier.”

“Tchik! Tchik!”

“You should take it,” Chanyeol replied as he met her eyes.

“No you got there first Chan, it’s yours,” Kit insisted as she withdrew her chopsticks.

Chanyeol studied the remaining piece of fried chicken and plucked off half of the meat with his chopsticks. He pushed the rest of the piece toward Kit with a smug grin. “We’ll split it.”

“Oh fine,” she sighed with a small smile, pulling it towards her. “I probably shouldn’t be eating it.”

“Hey, no talking about your figure – I like it,” Chanyeol warned. “Besides, I like that your body...” He put his chopsticks down and gestured his hands in swishing motions to mimic an hourglass shape.

Kit looked up from eating the final piece and smiled faintly. “So you were checking me out,” she teased.

“Uh um, well...I guess I was,” he sighed with a guilty grin. He took a sip from his can and wiped his mouth with a napkin, before checking his watch. “Wae, how is it so late?!”

Kit put her chopsticks down and wiped her mouth. “You shouldn’t be driving this late, especially after a beer,” she warned. “Look, this might seem a bit forward, but you um...I have an extra futon here and you are welcome to use it.”

“You’re sure?” Chanyeol asked.

“Positive,” Kit confirmed before excusing herself to move her clothes to the dryer.

“You can crash now Chan – I’ll be up for a few more minutes waiting for the dryer,” Kit said after she laid out the spare futon and blankets.

Chanyeol blinked and shook his head as he sat down on the futon. “No I’ll stay up – it’s no trouble. Besides, I don’t have to go in early tomorrow.” He pulled out his phone and scowled when he saw the battery was low. “Aish, do you um –”

“Here,” Kit said as she passed over her charger. She pointed to a nearby outlet and Chan thanked her as he plugged it in before connecting his phone to the other end. The screen flashed that he had missed messages on KakaoTalk from Sehun and Baekhyun.

viviismylife: You took noona home?

energizerbyun: What’s this about noona going home with you? energizerbyun: Sehun said something about an old friend showing up? Is that noona’s secret boyfriend we don’t know about?

Chanyeol rolled his eyes at the messages and snorted. Honestly these two needed to stop meddling and acting like this was a real life K-Drama.

“Sehunnie message you too?” Kit called out.

“Wha?” Chanyeol jumped, staring in the direction of the washer and dryer.

“Just got a message from him asking if I got home safely or if he needs to talk to you afterwards,” Kit continued. “Don’t worry, I’ll answer him.”

Chanyeol grumbled under his breath about Sehun as he typed back to Baekhyun.

dj_pcy: Her friend spilled beer on her so I gave her my shirt and took her home. It’s getting cold out and she shouldn’t ride the subway at night in just my shirt. dj_pcy: That guy’s not her boyfriend.

Shortly after Chanyeol sent his replies, Sehun sent over two more messages.

viviismylife: Ok, you’re off the hook. viviismylife: noona said you got her home safely. Sorry hyung.

“All right, dryer’s finally done – you can crash now,” Kit announced as she closed the door. She folded her clothes and carried them to the dresser, placing them in their respective piles before closing the drawer. She undid the top few buttons on Chanyeol’s shirt and unhooked her bra, slipping the straps off and placing the garment in a top drawer. She refastened the buttons and yawned as she made her way to the living room to bid Chanyeol good night.

“Sleep well Chan,” she said with a small wave before heading for her bedroom.

Chanyeol sat up and put his phone face down on the ground. “He-hey noona?”

Kit shuffled back to the living room and looked back at him. “Yes?”

“Ah...um, well this is hard to um, ask, but um,” Chanyeol stammered. “May I um, move the futon to your room? Maybe, hold your hand?”

“Afraid of the dark?” Kit teased.

Chanyeol raised a brow and shook his head. “Ah no, I want to be closer to noona, because I like her.”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. She held a hand out for his pillow and he passed it over. He picked up the futon and blankets, following Kit to the bedroom and placing them to the right of her bed.

Kit placed his pillow at the top of the futon and scrambled onto her bed, one hand pulling back the covers. She burrowed underneath them and leaned over, hand lingering by the lamp as she waited for Chanyeol to get settled. Chan made himself comfortable and extended his hand out, waiting for her to take it.

Her smaller hand slipped into his and he smiled, admiring the size difference. He closed his fingers around it and pressed his lips to the top of her hand.

“You’re a little cheesy Chan,” she laughed before flicking the lights off.

“Call me a hopeless romantic.”

“It’s endearing and, I like that about you.”

[kootenaygoon]

So,

The dancers didn’t realize it, but they were on fire.

I gazed silently across the grass from my fold-out camping chair, watching the kids dance barefoot in the purple glow, and found myself transitioning between the music being played onstage at Kamp in 2017 and the worship concerts I used to sit through back at Camp Qwanoes. How long ago was that now, 17 years? I could see the filthy sandals on my feet, the ethereal glow of the projector, the band calling out for holy fire to descend on the chanting congregation. Becca was nowhere to be seen, so I was slowly submerging into this mushroom-induced reverie, flashing through all the different times I’d ever opened my voice up to God. 

Refiner’s fire, my heart’s one desire is to be holy. Set apart for you, Lord. 

When I was in high school I spent years writing and re-writing a novel that was supposed to be my testimony. It was called The Way Things Are. The main character Jethro ran away with his girlfriend Charity to rob gas stations, fleeing her abusive father, then ended up coming to Christianity after a bunch of criminal hijinks. It was more interesting than my real testimony, which was that I’d become the pseudo-son of our youth pastor Trent and devoted my life to becoming his disciple. Of all the kids in the Powerhouse youth group, I was his favourite. Trent had a special connection with God, a calling, and that’s what I wanted for my life. I didn’t want to be some boring suburban kid without a purpose. I wanted someone to hand me a light sabre.

I took a sip of my drink and felt my mental circus shift, dislodging me back into the moment. My feet felt like they were kissing the dew, making out with the slick blades of grass, and I sighed with satisfaction. The last time I got this high off mushrooms I ended up swimming in the Gulf of Thailand, talking to the moon as if it was my mother. I always learned things from these trips, even if it was something dark.

It was during one mushroom trip that I named my blog Literary Goon.

“Do you remember you used to promise that you would give me your first born child? As payment for all those Chinese lunches, those trips to the mall? Do you remember we made that deal?” Trent asked, sitting down in Becca’s spot. 

“You thought we were kidding around, but I was dead serious.”

I sat up straight, pulling my knees to my chest. I was a teenager again and Trent looked exactly like I remembered him, though he was haggard from being in prison for 11 years. “I was a kid myself, man. I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t even think I was going to get married.”

“You wanted to be my Padawan apprentice.”

I took another sip of my drink, trying to man-handle my mind. Maybe I could get somewhere a little less dark, a little bit less fucked up. “You know they found child pornography on your computer? The Delta Police. They found it on your computer in the youth trailer.”

He frowned. “I know.”

“And Vick told me about that picture he found, of a naked boy, in your leather jacket. He said you talked your way out of it. Said it wasn’t yours. But who has pictures of naked boys in their pockets?”

He looked up at the Kamp performers. This guy Frase was performing while his girlfriend Emily break-danced. Becca was in the thick of it. She seemed to know everybody here. “But you know me, Will. You know I would never hurt anybody.”

“Maybe not. You were definitely gay, and all repressed about it, and you definitely crossed some lines. Maybe not in Canada, but in Mexico? In Mexico, I think you’re guilty. I think you did something you can’t even admit to yourself. You fucked those kids, Trent.”

He hung his head. “There’s no such thing as perfect people.”

There was no turning back now. I was emotionally invested in this conversation, and I’d been yearning to have it for over a decade now. “I built my whole worldview around you, do you understand that? My whole Christian belief system was based on the things that you taught me. So when they arrested you, I lost it all. I lost all my faith, Trent. What do I have left now? I’m just this fucking loser shit-head who doesn’t understand the goddamn universe.”

Tears trickled down his face, making him look Christ-like. “I told you: don’t let my situation be an excuse for you to turn your back on God. I can suffer through lots of things, but I can’t know that I was the reason you lost your faith in God.”

I stood up. “You know what? Fuck God. Tell Him I said that.”

Right at this moment Becca appeared, her face glistening from dancing. Purple fire danced in her eyes. Frase’ soundscape surrounded us like a giant bubble, a glistening planet-like orb that contained us in this forest. I didn’t want to do any more time traveling, didn’t near to scour my emotional landscape right now. I just wanted to have fun. But sometimes I felt like I didn’t know how to have fun anymore, didn’t know how to interact with real people. 

Refiner’s fire, my heart’s one desire is to be holy. 

“You’re being so lame, you should come dance,” Becca said. “It looks like you’re sitting back here talking to yourself like a crazy person.”

I shook my head. “I can’t deal with movement right now. The mushrooms are kicking in and I just need to hang tight, okay? I need to stay in control of this.”

She laughed, then spun away into the darkness. Had she even really been there? I turned and Vick was beside me, jostling, as we stood in line to approach the front of the St. David’s sanctuary. There had been an altar call, and Trent was calling believers to the front railing to experience the Holy Spirit. The kids who went sprawling backwards when he touched their foreheads were considered “slain in the spirit” and volunteers jumped up to lay pink blankets over them as they seized in holy bliss.

“Do you think it feels like getting high?” Vick whispered, vibrating with excitement. “They say it’s like electricity going all through your body.”

“It’s never worked for me. I didn’t feel it.”

“This time will be different. This time you’ll feel it. Trust me.”

But now we weren’t in line for salvation, we were in line for mushroom milkshakes in Thailand. They tasted like chocolate milk that had gone bad. My soul sluiced through the realities of all these different Will Johnsons, bringing me from one insane mind orgasm to the next. These were the sorts of revelations you couldn’t put into words, the kind of experiences that thunder out their meaning for years after they’ve died. All this time I’d been hunting rapists with Andrew Stevenson and the truth was staring me blunt in the face: Trent. I wanted to forgive him.

He was the key to everything. When they’d first arrested him in Tijuana, as we raced through those labyrinthine streets in our gleaming white van, I prayed to God like I’d never prayed before. The Devil had surfaced, had revealed his skeletal face, had swept Trent out of our lives. There was some special purpose he had for my pseudo-father, down there in Hell, preaching to the heroin-addicted denizens of a gulag I would never see. Back then I prayed for a machine gun, for a helicopter and a SWAT team with the fire power necessary to break him out of prison. We were Eminem and Dr. Dre. He’d saved my life, now it was time to save his. 

“So you think he’s guilty?” Vick asked, watching the purple fire consume the Kamp dancers. He took a long drag of a joint, then passed it to me.

I was annoyed. “Everyone says ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire’. And there’s so much fucking smoke, Vick. Anybody with eyes can see it. I think back to our relationship and I’m pretty sure I was being groomed, right? Like I was probably inches away from getting molested by this guy.”

Vick squinted. “But he never touched you?”

“He put his arm around me when we watched movies sometimes. He tickled me. I mean, we were affectionate. And I knew he was weird, but I’m weird too.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a pedophile. You’re not a goof.”

I sat back down in my chair and rubbed my eyes until I was back in the Thai ocean, the water lapping around my face as I monologued to the sky. I felt like everything was worth it so I could experience this moment. This was the reason I was born, this was what all those years were leading up to. My mother had beckoned me down to Earth and now she was shimmering benevolent in the heavens.

“I understand it now, Mom,” I said, beginning to laugh. “I understand everything.”

The Kootenay Goon