#when the cops were done talking to him over there him and his family came to the farm

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

The amount of times I have had a thought to send to my sister and remembered she will never get it 😭

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

You sit in your manager’s office, facing the bay window that overlooks the vast golf course. Your fingers are interlaced in an effort to hide the way your hands are trembling.

When Detective Brading asked for the space as you meekly followed him into the office, your boss shot you an unsettled glance, then agreed and left the room.

It throws you into a chilling realization. Everyone will give you that same condemning look when they find out the truth. You can’t imagine why else a cop unexpectedly came to your workplace and dragged you away – he must know what you’ve done.

The confidence you had last night that you’d get away with this crumbles when the door slams shut, making you flinch. Detective Brading expels a deep sigh. Why doesn’t he just arrest you and get it over with?

“Every second in a missing person’s case is precious,” the detective tells you. He sits on the edge of the desk instead of in the chair behind it, staring down at you. If he’s trying to scare you, it’s working.

Missing. At least that means they haven’t found Porter’s body.

“I hate to disrupt you like this at work.” His words mismatch his tone. “But I think you can help us.”

“How?” you ask.

“You said you were with Rafe for a couple hours the night Porter went missing,” he says. “Do you know where he went after he dropped you off?”

“Home,” you answer quickly.

“And you’re sure about that?”

“I’m…” You can’t be too defensive. It’ll raise red flags. “Pretty sure.”

The detective sighs again, as if you’re disappointing him with every word you say.

You glance at the framed photos of your boss and his family on the wall. He lives such a comfortable, normal life. You lost your chance at normalcy the second you told Rafe to pull the trigger.

“I’m sure it’s hard to hear this about a friend of yours, but we think he played a role in Porter’s disappearance,” he says. “And we need to ask you to talk to him about that night.”

“Me?”

“Yes. We’d have you wearing a wire.”

“What?” you say, floored. “Why me? We haven’t been hanging out that long. I don’t think he’d trust me enough to tell me anything.”

You hope you didn’t just discredit yourself or Rafe. But if they try to get one of Rafe’s other friends to trick him into a confession, you know for a fact that he wouldn't admit a thing. But you? You’re the only person he’d openly talk to about what really happened.

Your body is tight with anxiety. Maybe that’s why they’re asking you to do it. They think you know something and Rafe slipping up in a conversation with you is their meticulous way of proving it.

“I shouldn’t share this, but his other friends don’t believe that he’s entirely innocent,” Brading says. “You’re the only one we spoke to who does. And I think Rafe knows that you’re in his corner. I can tell you’re a good kid. Do the right thing and help us find Porter.”

You don’t buy it. You can’t ignore the instinct telling you that Brading is suspicious of you, too. He’s manipulating you. And for once, it feels good to be underestimated.

If you refuse to help, it could work against you. But if you agree, and you find a way to warn Rafe that you’re being listened to, that’d help your case. And his.

“I’d have eyes on you the entire time,” the detective explains. “He’s out on the golf course now. He came alone. Act like it’s just another day at work. Strike up conversation. See if he can open up about what he did after he dropped you off that night.”

“You want me to do this now?” you stutter.

“Like I said, every second is precious,” he says. “I know you’re caught off guard, but he’ll be, too. It’ll work to our advantage. I’d be in your ear, telling you what to say. You can handle this.”

This is a trick. It has to be. He cornered you because he suspects you, and now, he’s trying to outsmart you.

You mentally run through the possibilities. You can’t contact Rafe to warn him. But you could type a note out on your phone and find a way to flash it to him inconspicuously.

You’ll figure it out. And if you can’t, you’ll back out and say you couldn’t handle the pressure.

“Okay,” you agree. “I can do it.”

“Good.”

“I just need a second. Can I go to the restroom?”

“Yes. I have to ask you to leave your phone. We can’t take any risks.”

He assumes you’ll give Rafe a head’s up. Now you’re sure you’re a suspect, too. You try to look understanding as you hand him your phone.

·········

You’re seconds away from a panic attack as you pace around the private restroom, trying to figure out how the hell you can tip Rafe off. Maybe you should just back out.

Then, it comes to you.

The logbook tucked in your backpocket. The one Rafe teased you about and called your diary just last week. It’s your way out.

You uncap the pen hooked onto the book, open to an empty page, and write: wearing a wire. act innocent.

·········

Rafe lines up his club behind the white ball, his shoulders tight. He can’t shake off what happened last night.

You’re afraid of him. You pulled him in and pressed your lips against his, but then you shoved him away when he tried to hold you. And after you promised you wouldn’t screw him over, you left abruptly and took away the warmth he’s spent his whole life craving.

You’re supposed to have each other’s backs. He owes you and he wants to protect you, but you act like he’s a wild animal you can’t trust won’t bite you. He doesn’t know how to prove that you don’t need to be scared of him.

And it’s not just you expecting the worst of him. The way his own friends have been acting around him, shifty and tense, is pissing him off. He is guilty, but the fact that they have no faith in him digs a hole into his already overwhelming loneliness.

He’s out here on his own because he desperately needs to clear his head. He desperately needs to see you.

You drive the cart over the paved pathway to where Brading told you Rafe is. Your heart is racing, terrified this will go terribly wrong.

“You can still hear me clearly?” Brading says in your ear.

“Yes,” you say quietly. The earpiece he gave you is tiny and unnoticeable. The logbook you placed beside you after you drove off is the only chance you have of warning Rafe.

“Remember, act natural. Bring up Porter when it feels right,” Brading says. “Looks like he spotted you.”

You pull up to Rafe as he places a club in the bag hanging off the back of his cart. You remind yourself over and over that you have to speak about Porter in the present tense.

You can’t believe you’re here. Life twisted and turned and things you never imagined possible are your reality now.

There’s a genuinity in Rafe’s smile when your eyes meet his, the complete opposite of the pompous smirk you’ve seen over the years you’ve known him. If your heart wasn’t already pounding from adrenaline, it would be from the way he’s looking at you.

“Finally,” he says. “I was getting thirsty.”

“Don’t tell me you want a beer this early in the morning,” you sigh tensely, staying seated as you look over your shoulder to the cooler packed in the back. Brading is yards away, parked in a cart and posing as a golfer taking a break. Your breath is shaky.

“I’m kidding,” Rafe says, a little softer. He steps forward, hand on the roof of your cart, leaning closer to you. His eyes search your face. You’ve been aching to see him again. You wonder if he feels the same. “You mad at me or something?”

“Ask him why he’s alone,” the detective instructs you, jerking you out of your small moment of joy.

“I’m always mad at you,” you joke. “How come you’re alone out here? You’re always with your friends.”

“They’ve been pissing me off lately,” he mutters.

“Why?” Brading says. You plead with your eyes that Rafe just look down at your note, but he speaks before you can repeat the detective’s word.

“Why’d you run out last night?” His gaze trails down to your lips, his voice low. “Thought we were having a good time.”

It’s embarrassing to know you’re being listened to. And nerve-wracking that now the detective knows you’re more than just friends. Anyone could tell from Rafe’s suggestive tone that something happened.

You did suddenly leave the closet you’d led him to last night. Kissing him got to be overwhelming. But you can see in his gaze that it wasn’t just an impulsive, passion-filled makeout at a party. It meant something to him. And it’s a relief, because it meant something to you, too.

The chemistry you felt with him was always returned. It was just contained. Watered down. And now, whatever this is could end before it even begins. He could say one thing and get you both into trouble.

You regret agreeing to this. You need to get Rafe’s attention on the open book beside you before it’s too late.

“We were. I had to get back to my friends,” you say. “Why are yours pissing you off?”

“You know,” he says, glancing to the side. “They’re always lookin’ at me like I’m guilty.”

You can hear your pulse. You keep your eyes on Rafe, discreetly tapping on the page. He doesn’t notice. He doesn't follow your silent instructions.

“Are you?” Brading says. You repeat the two words, your throat dry.

Rafe’s brows furrow in confusion. He looks at you again. A tense silence blankets you.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” you say. “Not even my diary.”

Your heart lifts in all-consuming relief when Rafe catches your meaning. He looks down at the logbook and realization washes over his face.

You’re safe. The man in your ear isn’t going to discover a thing.

“What, you agree with them?” Rafe asks. His tone is casual, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow. Your eyes are locked knowingly, enveloped in the comfort that he knows to play along now.

“Tell him no,” Brading says.

“No,” you half-laugh. “I’m just saying, if there is something about that night that you didn’t tell me, you can trust that it’ll stay between us.”

“I was with you.”

“Ask him what he did after,” Brading instructs.

“Not all night,” you reply, cocking your head. “Where’d you go after you dropped me off?”

“Home. You know that,” he replies. “Even you’re doubting me now? Come on.”

“No,” you repeat. You reach for his hand, eyes trained on him. “I’m sorry. I just meant to say… if something happened, I wouldn’t judge you for it. You trust me, right?”

Rafe’s body buzzes at your touch. He does. He completely trusts you and it’s such a new, comforting feeling and he wishes you felt it for him, too.

“I do,” he says.

“You’d tell me?”

“I would.”

You nod reassuringly.

“I don’t know where Porter is,” Rafe says. “And I wish people would stop looking at me like I did something to him. I’m so sick of everyone expecting the worst of me.”

You’re not sure where his lie ends and the truth begins, but his fixed gaze is heavy with sincerity.

“We’re not getting anywhere with him,” Brading mutters. “End the conversation and meet me back at the office.”

“I don’t expect the worst of you,” you tell him.

His shoulders relax and you can tell your words did something to him. You nod again, a small, relieved smile pulling on your lips.

“I should get back to work,” you say. “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

“You’re just fishing for a tip now,” Rafe replies, smirking.

“Guilty.”

You both share a soft chuckle, the twisted joke behind your word choice not lost on either of you.

·········

The detective is tense when you see him again, a minor crack in his confident demeanor. It’s clear he thought he was going to catch you – both of you – today.

You thought you’d clear your and Rafe’s name through the monitored conversation, but Brading just looks angry now.

“You didn’t mention your relationship is more than friendly,” he says, arms crossed as he stands across from you in your boss’s office. He didn’t even care to sit down this time.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you needed to know that.”

“I need to know everything. You were withholding information,” he tells you. “And there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

The facade he was putting on has faded. He’s on edge and direct about the fact that he doesn’t trust a word out of your mouth.

“There isn’t,” you reply.

“Listen,” Brading says, his voice heavy and terse. “Porter’s family brought me into this because I’ve had a long, successful career of putting away scumbags like your boyfriend. I know your type. I know you’re covering for him. And you’re just making it worse for yourself by not telling me what you know.”

You don’t respond, staring at him blankly, your heart drumming in fear.

“I could make things easier for you if you just admit it,” he says. “A judge is likely to be lenient when someone helps with an investigation. I’d vouch for you.”

He’s intimidating. But you won’t give in. You never will.

“I don’t know anything,” you state.

His lips close into a firm line as he steps past you.

“I’ll see you soon,” Brading threatens before he opens the door.

·········

The lip of the sun still clings onto the ocean horizon as Rafe drives south. He was relieved when you texted him to come over tonight. He needs to see you. And he needs to talk about what happened this morning.

You answer your front door and Rafe takes in your gentle gaze and he swears that the pull he always felt towards you is a thousand times stronger because for once, you actually seem glad to see him.

“We can go to my room,” you say. You’ve been anxious to meet with him. You can’t control your impulse and you don’t see any reason to.

You press your cheek against his chest and wrap your arms around him the moment your bedroom door shuts behind you. His heart is thudding against your ear, his body hard and warm.

Rafe hesitantly cups your arms, not sure if you’ll push him away like you did last night.

“He just showed up at my work,” you say in a nervous rush, “and I thought if he heard you say you didn’t do anything, he’d back off, but then he said he knows I’m hiding something. He’s onto us. I don’t think we should talk to him without a lawyer. I can’t afford one. You have to help me pay for one.”

Rafe realizes you’re trembling beneath him. He doesn’t give a fuck that the man who scared you like this is a cop; if he was in front of him right now, he’d punch him.

“I will,” he says. “That was smart. The note.”

“I was so worried you wouldn’t see it.” You pull back, craning your neck to meet his eyes. “I know it was risky. You did a good job.”

He nods, gazing down at you. He’s not used to people telling him he did something right.

It’s unreal to be here, standing in your bedroom, past the guard you’ve forced him to stay behind for so long. It’s intimate seeing where you live, where you sleep, where you exist.

“He told me a judge would go easy on me if I helped with the case,” you admit, “but I have your back. And I don’t expect the worst of you, okay? I know you have my back, too.”

“You trust me?” Rafe asks, a hint of surprise in his deep voice. His hands drag down your arms, stopping at your wrists.

You wriggle against him, a subconscious test that you’re not trapped. He immediately releases you.

It makes his chest ache to know you expect him to harm you.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says.

Your body betrays you. Tears surface, hot and fast. The fresh wound lodges against your heart.

“It’s not…” You step back, knees wobbling. Your legs are suddenly desperate to rest and can’t hold you up any longer. “It’s not personal.”

You step away, sitting at the edge of your bed, head in your hands. You’ve barely been keeping it together, trying to outrun the shadow of pain that’s been haunting you. There’s no limit to what you’d give to forget what happened.

You brush your hands off your face when you hear the floorboards creak. Rafe leans in front of you, crouched at your feet. You watch his hands ghost over your calves.

It throws you for a loop, seeing him on your floor like this. For so long, all you assumed about him was that he thought he was above you. Now, he’s on his knees for you.

“Hey.” He says it in the same way he did after the gun went off. He doesn’t have to tell you to look at him. You know that’s what he wants.

You meet his eyes, and when you see the genuine concern swimming in the deep blue, all the strings hardly keeping you together unravel.

“It wasn’t about money,” you utter tearfully.

“What?”

“It wasn’t ever about money. He didn’t rip me off.” Your sobs start to come out as gasps. “He hurt me.”

Rafe’s veins turn to ice. He frantically searches your face for an explanation because no, it can’t be what he’s thinking.

“I passed out while he…” You shake your head, tears rolling over your cheeks as you shut your eyes. “It’s like my mind couldn’t take what he was doing to my body and I passed out. And then you came in…”

His breaths grow shallow. That’s why you were as angry as you were. Why you cried as hard as you did. Why you tense up and shove him away when he holds you.

When Rafe pushed Porter in that room, he never would have expected you’d be there, bearing the pain of something that fractured you. He’s furious, disgusted, in disbelief.

He sees now that you meant when you said you don’t regret killing him. The empty look on your face was never guilt. It was fear. Trauma.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone upstairs alone,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “I didn’t think–”

“Stop,” he says softly. His hands rest on your face, palms gently cupping your wet cheeks. Of all the things you thought you knew about him, you would’ve never expected him to be so tender. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It settles your coiled heart hearing him dismiss the nauseating, intrusive thoughts you’ve had blaming yourself for what happened. You finally open your eyes to look at him again.

His eyes are glossy. He knows now and he’s looking at you with so much sympathy that your chest stutters with your gasps, stomach somehow twisting in both pain and relief.

For once, Rafe doesn’t say the first thing that pops into his head – that if he knew what Porter had done, he would have made him suffer, he would have tortured him, instead of shooting a single, life-ending bullet. Because there’s no point. You saved his life that night and he wishes he could’ve saved yours, but all he can do right now is tell you what he will do instead of what he would have done.

“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” he murmurs. “I swear on my life. You’ll always be safe with me.”

He’s hesitant to startle you with his touch, but thankfully, you lean over and wrap your arms atop his shoulders and it’s so gratifying to know you’re using him to ground yourself.

Rafe holds you like he can’t get close enough. Because he can’t. Nothing he does now can take back what happened to you but everything he does moving forward will be to make sure you never experience a horror like that again.

His life is no longer a cycle of numbing thrills. He has a real reason to keep going now.

You inhale the comforting smell of his neck, your cheek pressed against his. You curl into him as you shake through your sobs.

“Nobody else knows,” you admit, voice muffled against his skin. “I didn’t think I’d tell.”

Even after what you’d done together, a bond that didn’t exist between you before digs its roots into you both. He’s holding you with softness you didn’t know he was capable of, after making a promise so sincere that you felt it in your core.

“You’re safe,” he whispers. And for the first time since that terrifying night, you feel it.

·········

It’s been five days since Brading accosted you at work. Even though he hasn’t bothered you since, and there haven’t been any public updates on the investigation, you’re on edge knowing that you and Rafe are suspects.

Since then, when you’re not working or hanging out with your friends, you’re with Rafe.

You still haven’t told the guys. You don’t know how you could possibly prove to them how good of a man Rafe actually is when you can’t tell them a single detail of what’s happened between you. You’d rather not have to explain yourself to them. Not yet.

Rafe doesn’t pester you about being your secret. As long as he’s something to you.

It’s dusk and you’re sitting on the quiet beach with him, cocooned in comfort and curled up on the sand, the setting sun playing across his handsome face.

Since your conversation in your bedroom, you haven’t spoken about the night that tied you two together.

But you have been speaking to each other like never before, holding onto the playfulness that always existed beneath your banter, allowing yourselves to talk and joke and kiss with no inhibitions. Except he doesn’t dare hold you without asking if he can first.

Tonight, as you sit side-by-side in the clouded orange and pink glow, Rafe feels a smile on his face, a real one, after not smiling for so many years. Being with you is the first time in a long time that he feels vaguely normal.

“It’s too bad,” you say, gazing at his dimples.

“What is?” Rafe rasps.

“That you’ve been keeping this smile from me for so long,” you say with a glint in your eyes. “Why were you so dedicated to hating me?”

“You hated me,” he scoffs with a smirk.

“You started it. All that Pogue/Kook crap.” You meant it as a joke, but Rafe’s smile fades. He looks ahead at the crashing waves. You hit a nerve.

“What?” you ask softly.

Rafe is consumed by his own emotions. He’s a victim to how demanding and overwhelming they can be. He’s been like that for most of his life.

Being with you has cleared some of the fog in his head. He knows now that he was desperate for some form of connection and that’s why he bought into the idea that being part of a group meant something.

If he had nothing of substance to him, nothing lovable, at least he had wealth in common with a social circle he always felt disjointed from. It was a ridiculous substitute for a sense of belonging.

“I was jealous,” he finally admits.

“Jealous?” you echo.

His jaw tenses. He can’t look at you.

“You’ve seen it yourself,” Rafe mutters. “When shit hit the fan, nobody backed me up. Nobody checks up on me. Nobody gives a damn. I don’t have any real friends. And you called your friends family. I don’t have that. I don’t have anybody. It’s why I sell coke. It’s pathetic, but at least I have something worth…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. The man who you thought had everything never did. He was in pain, lonely, selling drugs because at least it gave people something to like about him.

“Rafe,” you say quietly. He meets your gaze. You wish you could unsee the hurt in his eyes. “You have me. I care about you so much.”

You look at him in all the ways he��d always secretly hoped you would. The years of longing for you – the girl who always has a retort, who always keeps him on his toes, who always looks so frustratingly beautiful – all those daydreams don’t come close to how it actually feels to have you like this.

He wonders if you have any idea of all the ways you can break him.

“Yeah?” is all he can mumble, his throat tight.

You nod, finding his hand and pulling it to your chest. He’s not sure if you meant to press him up against where he can feel your pulse, but he feels the rhythmic thudding coming from beneath your skin, and God, is it insane that he feels like he lives for your heartbeat?

He thought he was fine living an empty life. But he’s gotten a taste of being wrapped up in you and he doesn’t want to lose it. Ever.

“You keep me safe,” you say softly. “Let me do the same for you in my own way, alright?”

He nods, blinking away tears. Your heart breaks and you lean forward, losing yourself in his kiss. His lips are soft and gentle, pushing against yours with a soft fragility.

“Are you okay?” you whisper against his cheek. He hasn’t been okay in so long. But this is the closest to it he’s ever gotten. He doesn’t want to hide you. He wants everyone to see you chose him.

“Do you want to go to that bonfire tonight?” he asks.

There’s a party at the beach you spoke at a couple of weeks ago, back when Rafe stopped you after you bought a joint from Porter.

“Together?” you ask. He nods, uncertainty pinching his face. You can tell he’s expecting you to say no. As if you’re ashamed of him.

You’re almost sure your friends won’t be there. They asked you to hang out at Pope’s tonight and you declined and said you’d stay home. They probably won’t be at the bonfire.

Either way, you’re willing to take the risk. Rafe is worth it.

·········

Gossip spreads like weeds. You can tell by how people stare at you when you arrive with Rafe that his name has been in everyone’s mouths, whispering conspiracies about what he did to Porter. You know your name will start to come up in those conversations, too.

“So, it’s true,” one of his buddies says when he sees you cupping Rafe’s bicep as you join the group, the bonfire crackling. “You’re really messing with a Pogue.”

“That’ll be the last time you call her that, got it?” Rafe says sharply. His friend scoffs a laugh, putting his hands up in feigned surrender, his beer bottle sloshing.

Rafe leans to mumble in your ear, “Do you want a drink?”

“Yeah,” you say, eager to take the edge off.

You swallow the bitterness of the drink Rafe picks up for you, staring ahead at the ocean, thinking about how somewhere in the vast expanse, Porter’s body is lying at the bottom.

“Man, it’s weird just… continuing to live life, isn’t it?”

You look up to see a man standing beside you. He’s a friend of the person you killed. You recognize him from the day at the club when Porter called you over. You still get shivers remembering his smile.

“What do you mean?” you mumble.

“Porter. He’s just gone,” he continues. There’s a slur in his words. He’s drunk. “He’s gotta be… you know. There’s no other explanation.”

You tighten your grip on Rafe’s arm, but he doesn’t notice, lost in conversation with one of his buddies.

“Yeah,” you offer. “It’s sad.”

“He told me he liked you,” he says with a raised brow. “He had a huge crush on you.”

You can taste bile on your tongue. You look up at Rafe, whose attention is on your conversation now. His stare is hard, his nostrils flared in anger.

“I didn’t know,” you say simply.

“Really?” he laughs. “He said you were playing hard to get.”

His vile words make your breath hitch.

The flame in Rafe rises so fast that within two seconds, he swings a punch. And suddenly, he’s leaning over, knuckles ramming into the idiot’s face as he lies on the sand, unleashing the rage of what happened to you and the urge to take your pain away.

He could kill him.

Rafe feels hands at the crooks of his shoulders pulling him back. He struggles to get on his feet, his friends’ words overlapping as they try to calm him down. He’s breathless, looking up to meet your eyes, taking in how completely lost and anguished you look.

He roughly pushes his friends off as he stumbles towards you, his shaking hands resting on your shoulders.

“Let’s go,” he says to you, looking at you like you’re the only one here.

“You’re such an asshole!” the guy on the ground shouts.

Rafe ignores him, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you away from the crowd. You’re trembling, thrown back to that night, thrown back to being called a tease, thrown back to being held down.

You reach the parking lot, not nearly far enough from the loud crowd, still hearing the crackling of the fire, when your knees buckle.

Your heart is pounding so hard that you’re afraid it’s going to give out. But Rafe holds you up as you stand between parked cars, looking at you with desperation.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”

You find strength as you pull your arms up around his shoulders. He holds you tightly, firm and still against your shaking body.

You’re slowly finding peace.

Then you hear JJ’s voice mutter, “What the hell?”

You pull back, spotting him a few feet away with Pope and John B getting out of the car, looking at you with an expression you can only describe as appalled. You don’t have words. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Blistering sirens reverberate through you. They get so loud so fast that you don’t realize you’ve lost contact with Rafe until a police car jolts to a stop a few feet away from you.

This has to be a nightmare.

Detective Brading swings open the door, followed by another cop, rushing towards you and Rafe. He’s carrying handcuffs. You might lose consciousness.

“Knew this day was coming, didn’t you?” Brading says before he grips Rafe’s wrist, pushing him up against the nearest car.

Rafe struggles, but Brading slams him against the hood of the car so hard that you hear the thud of his skull against the metal.

“Stop! You can’t hurt him like that!” you cry. The other police officer steps in front of you, pushing you back. You expect him to handcuff you, too. He doesn’t.

You look around you in terrified desperation as if someone can help. The crowd has quickly come closer, watching in awe, as if you and Rafe’s lives aren’t being pulled apart for everyone to see.

You meet Rafe’s frightened gaze as the side of his face presses against the car. Brading flatly recites his rights, handcuffing him, ignoring you as you beg that he tell you why he’s being arrested, that he stop hurting him.

Rafe doesn’t say a word until you whimper in pain and plead to the officer keeping you back to stop holding so tight. He tries to charge forward, demanding he take his hands off of you, earning him another rough push against the car.

Brading hauls him away and you try to follow, but the other officer keeps you back, gripping you so hard that it reminds you of Porter all over again.

“You want to get arrested, too?” he mutters. Your muscles give in, losing tension. You still don’t understand why Rafe’s being arrested and you’re not.

“No. Sorry. I’ll stop,” you say weakly. “Where’s he being taken?”

The officer doesn’t believe you at first, but eventually, he loosens his grip.

“The county jail,” he says, looking past your shoulder as the car door shuts.

Then, they leave, and you’re in front of the crowd, in front of your friends, frozen and speechless.

·········

Your mouth is dry as you wait in the lobby of the quiet jail. They won’t give you any information. Nothing about what the charge is, how long Rafe will be here, if he’ll be given bail. It’s been an hour.

You hold JJ’s car keys in your shaking hands. You were frantic when you begged him to lend you his car, promising you’d take care of it.

He confusedly agreed and you left immediately, not exchanging any other words, following the police car just in case the officer lied to you about where they were going.

Your phone is dead and your connection to the outside world is dead with it.

Your stomach drops when you spot Brading exit through a door behind the processing desk.

“What’s happening?” you ask. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

He stiffly cuts through the lobby, pushing open the front door, letting it swing behind him. You grunt as the door hits your palms.

“I suggest you go home,” Brading mutters as you trail him into the dark parking lot. “I can charge you for assault against a police officer if you don’t stop harassing me.”

“Please. I just want to know,” you plead. “Nobody will tell me anything.”

You’re sure he’s getting a power trip out of this. You didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. Now, he won’t tell you.

“Please,” you repeat, feeling utterly powerless. The detective stops abruptly, facing you, his face in a scowl.

“I’m ordering you to go home,” he says sharply.

“Brading?” someone calls behind him.

Within a matter of seconds, you hear something you never thought you’d hear again. The single and unmistakable blow of a gunshot.

·········

You’re in disbelief, staring ahead at the stranger sitting in your living room as her gaze travels between you and your parents. The woman introduced herself as an agent, flashing a shiny badge before she came inside.

Last night, you gave the cops a statement about what had happened in the parking lot. A man was out there, agitated and waiting for Brading. He shot him and looked you dead in the eyes before another man shouted for him to get down on the ground.

He drove away, tires screeching, as the officer who’d rushed out of the jail shot at the car. You remember dropping to the cold concrete, being interrogated by a detective, and eventually being ordered to go home and not tell a soul what you’d seen.

You’re still terrified, unable to accept what your life has become and how the domino effect you’ve been thrust into could be so vicious.

“Detective Brading is in critical condition,” the woman says, “but he was able to identify the man who shot him.”

“What about Rafe?” you ask. “Is he okay?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is.”

You sniffle your tears, shaking your head in disbelief. You still haven’t been given any updates on him.

“I’m here because the man from last night,” she continues, “is part of a family that has dangerous affiliations. Brading has a history of putting away high-profile criminals, and he arrested the shooter’s brother. His brother recently passed away in prison and… he tracked Brading down to make him pay. He’s still at large. According to your statement, he saw you, is that right?”

You nod anxiously, waiting for her to get to her point. By now, you have enough trauma to last you ten lifetimes.

Then, she tells you that for you and your parents’ safety, you’ll need to be put into witness protection and that you’ll be relocated and given new identities immediately.

When you ask what you’re supposed to say to the people you’re leaving behind, she’s eerily calm as she tells you, “Nothing. I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can contact anyone you know. Everyone will be under the impression that you’ve died.”

·········

You consumed Rafe’s thoughts as he sat in the county jail cell. He didn’t focus on how suffocating the room was, or how badly his wrists burned from the handcuffs, or what his future was going to look like.

He thought about you, how completely and deliberately you were in his corner, how all the embarrassment of being arrested in front of all those people was erased when you yelled in his defense.

The only voice in the crowd standing up for him, while everyone else watched, was yours. He has never cared about someone more than himself. You changed that.

That’s why when he receives the news that you passed away in an accident, he snaps.

next >

note sorry for the drama… now i can finally share that this inspired this part of the story 🤭

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[mydarlingclaudia]

where my whole heart stays

note : this is really really not planned out and kinda sucky dw about it I had a vision and this is the result also there is like no dialogue

wc : 1.9k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis

desc : funerals and drunk confessions. friends to lovers (??), angst, major character death, not proofread, ID!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader

Some of the first memories that Leon has of you have been the memories that have given him the most comfort over the years.

He met you back in the first grade, the two of you had assigned seats next to each other, you traded crayons, lunch, toys, you even traded shoes one time. An excited handshake was what solidified your friendship, he’d always be over at your house, you’d beg your mom to let him stay for another hour when he should’ve already been back home thirty minutes ago.

You were there for his families funeral in the third grade, the officer that saved him sat up in the front row of the church with him while he sobbed into the man’s side. Leon can’t remember how many people were at the funeral, he knows it was a few of his parents friends and some neighbors, but he remembers that you were there.

Your parents dressed you up in this black dress, not really funeral fitting, more like what you’d wear to a school concert, you had these shiny black shoes to match and switched out the tiny hoop earrings you wore everyday for small, white studs. You sat in the back of the church, you didn’t fallow along with any of the prayers or hymns sung, but the few times that Leon looked over his shoulder, you were always looking at him.

Leon still doesn’t remember the day of the funeral all that well, not that he thinks about it a lot, the only thing he can really remember that doesn’t make his chest squeeze up is how you ran up to him once everything was over and hugged him.

Leon hid away with you under one of the tables, sharing cookies and slices of salami off of a paper plate, you spilled your root beer and almost got it all over your dress. He doesn’t remember the song that was playing at dinner, but he taps his foot to the little bits that dug their way into his brain. He remembers that you hugged him once more before your parents decided it was time to go and he cried into the nape of your neck, you told him you’d see him at school on Monday.

Life carried on, Leon didn’t talk to you a lot about the funeral. You always have him a look in quiet moments, like if he wanted to talk, you wouldn’t stop him. You thought it was cool that he wanted to be a cop, you told him it was fitting, that was back when you were ten.

When the two of you were in your freshman year of high school, your parents split and you only hung out with Leon every other weekend. Sometimes Leon would come to see you on weekends when you were away, or at the very least he’d call.

He still had sleep-overs with you, you’d sleep in your bed and he’d be on your bedroom floor, the door would be wide open and you’d whisper to him at night about what you’d do after high school.

One time after a school dance he came back to your house and you stole your moms whiskey after she went to bed, you said you’d done it before, Leon lied and said that it wasn’t his first time drinking. Leon’s not quite sure, but he thinks he fell for you that night. He’d known he liked you before that night, boys do that when they spend years around a pretty girl, but that night when the two of you got drunk you told him you loved him.

Leon forgets a lot of things, like what the context for your “I love you” was, but it stuck with him. He pretended to forget it the next morning even though you didn’t bring it up, he also can’t remember if you kissed him or not.

School dances, sleep-overs, breakfasts with your mom, the passenger seat of your car, it all became a memory for Leon after the two of you graduated. You kept in touch after high school, you’d always talk about how badly you wanted to see him when you came home for the summer since you moved a few states away for college.

The last time he saw you was the summer of 1998, before Raccoon City. After that the calls lessened, he wasn’t really allowed to talk to you, but he’d call you every once in a while as he choked back tears.

But he’s back now, just not for a reason either of you really wanted.

Leon followed the local news of your town even as he was being carted around the world to fight unimaginable things, when he saw that your mom had passed he knew it was time to come home.

You look so different than you did when he last saw you, not seeing someone for eight years tends to lead to changes. You don’t look the same as you did when you came to his families funeral when you were eight, either.

The way you’re dressed makes you look more mature, it’s more professional than school concert-y. And it’s pretty, too.

You made Leon go sit up in the front row with you during the funeral, you held onto his hand so tightly when you asked him if he’d sit with you that he couldn’t even stomach turning you down. He held you just as tight when you finally sat down, his right arm was wrapped around your shoulder and he held your left hand in his lap with his own.

You didn’t go up to speak, you handed the speech you had prepared to your dad and curled back into Leon’s side.

You stayed curled into him for the rest of the night, even when people began leaving the bar or coming up to you to offer their condolences, you didn’t let go of Leon.

Even as he’s leaving, you’re still chasing him.

“Where are you going?” You’re trailing behind him, hanging onto the sleeve of his suit as he heads to the bars exit.

“I told you, I gotta go, it’s urgent.” He couldn’t get time off of work to save his life, the agency is always finding something for him to take care of. You’re tipsy, and you’re clingy, he’d call himself clingy too, but he doesn’t have the option to stay.

“But where?”

“It’s work,”

“Leon, please.” You grip Leon’s shoulders and he stops, standing just beside the door. He puts a hand on your waist and you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Thank you for coming today.” You whisper, he moves his hand from your waist to rest both on your back.

“Yeah, of course.” Leon mumbled against your hair, running one of his hands up and down your spine.

“I missed you,” The way your breath fans over his neck makes him shiver. He whispers the same thing back to you, you giggle. “When’re you gonna be back in town?”

“I’m not sure, work keeps me busy.” You sigh when he tells you that, you nuzzle into his shoulder.

“Just… Just call me when you’re around, okay?”

“Okay,” He squeezes your waist and pulls back a tiny bit to look at you. “I gotta go now.”

“Please don’t.”

“I…” Leon opens his mouth and closes it again for a second or two before speaking. “I have to, I’m sorry.” You sniffle, his hands come up to cup your face and wipe your teary eyes. “I’ll call you, I will.”

“Okay,” You let go of him for only a second before you lean back in to kiss his cheek, then a few more before you kiss the corner of his mouth, he would've kissed you back if he had had a second longer to think. “I- I’ll see you later, love you.”

You pull back fully, turning away to let him leave.

“… Yeah.”

—

When it was finally your turn to have a funeral of your own, Leon sat in the back of the church, your dad had offered him a seat in the front row, but he turned it down. He wasn't family, wasn't your husband.

All he could think back to was your mom's funeral, with him holding you tightly as you sobbed into his chest, the way you clung to him the whole night. Leon has nothing to hold onto now except the wrinkled tissue in his hand, he's not sure how to handle this. He's lost plenty of people in his life, but this is worse. You were supposed to outlive him because you lived a normal life that he so badly wanted to share with you, at least you had kept in touch, that's the only thing that was normal for him.

Over the ten years that passed he made seeing you and calling you a need-to. He'd call once or twice a month and fly out to visit you maybe once or twice a year, it doesn't seem like a lot, but it was enough.

You always seemed so happy to see him, whether it was over the phone or in person, you clung onto every word. His time with you gave him glimpses into the life he could've had, you'd make him breakfast on the first morning of his visits, then he'd cook for you for the rest of the week, you'd stay up late watching movies together like you were back in high school.

Leon couldn't quite describe what kind of drunk you were, clingy, maybe. But he'd grown to repeat your "I love you"'s back to you when the two of you were drinking.

The last time he had seen you was three months ago, he never told you too much about his job, and if he did it was a lie, but he really just wanted to hear you talk about your life. You told him about your promotion and how you were going to renovate your house or something, Leon just told you his work had been the same as always.

You seemed so happy, even when you reached out for his hand and held onto it while you sat at the table eating dinner together, it made Leon feel like he was supposed to be there.

Your funeral had been lovely, Leon just wishes he was back home under different circumstances.

And even when it's over, and he's sitting at the bar nursing a whiskey and not speaking unless spoken to, all he can think about is you. He always thought you were too good for him, what he never wanted to think about was you at his own funeral. There were things he never told you and things you never told him, at least when you were sober, maybe he'll find some old yearbook with a confession written in it when he goes to clean out your house with your dad.

Then there's that song. That song that played during dinner after his parents funeral, where you and him sat under the table and hid from the other guests. He hasn't heard it in years, he certainly doesn't remember the name of the words, he remembers how you bopped your head to it, though.

Leon figures it's time to go once the song is over, he downs the last of his whiskey and turns the glass cup upside down as he stands, at least he knows you loved him when drunk.

[obxsummer]

messy // john b routledge

request: Would love to do a request if your taking? You know the bonfire scene where John b and Sarah were broken up and she came with topper and saw John b with another girl and a fight ended up happening where the girl pushed Sarah and John b was yelling crying for her name can we do that with y/n and John b but instead of the fight with him and topper we do a fight with y/n and the girl John b was with and the girl ends up pushing y/n which has John b going crazy and in protective mode and y/n got really hurt by that push from that small clif

pairing: john b routledge x cameron!reader (she/her)

warnings: the usual obx angst and violence, ooc rafe cameron (BRING ME PROTECTIVE RAFE WOOO), injuries

navigation 

--

Boneyard Bonfires are well known in the OBX but not for the reasons they should be. More often than not (a couple years in a row now), fights and arguments broke out between the two halves of the island which usually caused the hangout to end early.

You definitely weren’t planning on attending considering things between you and John B were rough right now. Still reeling from the previous events of the week, you just wanted some space to comprehend the loss your family was facing right now. You didn’t mean to make him upset or to put a wrench in your relationship, but John B was less than happy when you told him you were heading back to Tannyhill to find comfort in your brother and sisters.  

The news of Ward’s death traveled fast, but it felt like everything had stood still for your family. Despite being adopted before you could even remember, Ward and Rose had raised you, and your heart was still broken even after all of the horrible things he’d done to you and your friends. It wasn’t fair to have so many mixed emotions and still push yourself to be around John B when he was busy celebrating a loss that hit you hard.

“You okay?” The soft tone of concern in Rafe’s voice was surprising as you glanced over your shoulder where he was approaching. You were standing out by the dock, eyes on the slow-moving water. The same dock that had been full of cops and your friends only a few days ago.

“Fine,” You mumbled. He pulled you close, arms warm as he held you to his chest like it would protect you from the cruel reality. Rafe completely shut down when the yacht exploded, like all anger had left his body and was replaced with sorrow and fear of the unknown. For so long, Ward had fixed everything for him, and Rafe had been hit with the hard truth that it would no longer happen. Like a flipped switch, he went from an irresponsible party kid to a protective older brother. The one you remembered most growing up, the version you’d missed for so long.

“Did you talk to John B?”

You shook your head slightly. “No, not since yesterday.”

Rafe had tried to stop you from going to find John B yesterday, begging you not to leave him. You hadn’t seen raw emotion out of your brother like that in so long that it scared you, so you let Rafe drive you to your boyfriend’s house to have the honest conversation that needed to happen.

“Hey,” You whispered quietly as you walked down the dock to where John B was sitting.

“Hey.” John B looked up and stood from his seat to join you on the floor of the dock closer to the water.

You sniffled, tugging your knees to your chest as you wrapped your arms around them. Every nerve of your body screamed to run and hide from this nightmare, wishing it would just disappear from view and spare the pain.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” John B’s fingers were warm as the rested on your knee, his other hand gently grabbing your cheek to brush away tears, a small gasp leaving your lips at the action. You’d cried so, so much in these past few hours that it was surprising to have tears left. 

“Were you happy?” You asked quietly, watching his face to tell a reaction. “Because you looked happy.”

John B hesitated in his response, “Babe, he killed my dad.”

You licked your lips and tucked them in, giving a small nod of understanding. It was hard to come to terms that John B felt this was an even trade-off, a life for a life. But he wasn’t wrong, and that made it worse.

“I just think too much has happened,” You admitted honestly, sniffling against your sleeve. “I just thought of all people…you would understand what it was like losing a dad. And I needed you, John B. A-and maybe everyone was right, maybe this is too complicated.”

The two of you received so much backlash when you got together, from friends and family, that it almost broke you. John B reassured you more than once that he didn’t care what they had to say, that the two of you cared about each other and that was the most important thing. But sitting here, with him, you began to wonder if it would be enough.

“It’s not, it’s not too complicated,” He tried to reason, the puzzle fitting into place as he realized what you might be implying. “Please don’t leave. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You shook your head and faced him with teary eyes, letting yourself be so vulnerable with the boy you’d trusted your life and heart to. “I love you, JB. But I think I need some time to… to figure this out. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Standing up, you pressed your palms into your eyes to stop the flood of tears in order to see your footsteps as you walked away.

“Hey, hey. Wait,” John B was quickly behind you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly as he held you. Your breath was shaky as you grabbed onto him and tucked your cheek against his skin, soaking up every second of it that you could. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just talk to me.”

“Just… just give me some time, okay?” You asked quietly, tucking your hand into his like it was your lifeline. “I’ll be back, promise. I just… I gotta figure this out.”

John B pressed a kiss to your head, turning your form so he could hug you properly as you sobbed. He never meant to cause so much harm, despite the fact that he was glad Ward was gone after all he had done. John B almost forgot you lost a dad in the mix, so caught up in the idea of revenge.

The sound of your name being called broke your moment with John B, both of you turning to see Rafe standing in the grass at the end of the dock. You could feel the muscles in John B’s back tense at the sight, but you knew your brother wasn’t here to fight. Rafe wasn’t here to play Kook King, he was in older brother mode. He was here for you.

“I’ve gotta go,” You whispered to John B, pulling yourself from his embrace to press a kiss to his cheek. You turned away and began the walk toward your brother, each step creating a crack in the foundation of your relationship. It felt like the worst thing to do at the moment, but you had to take time to fix this. For you, for John B. For everyone. 

--

After three days of hiding in your room with Sarah, you gave up on the idea of rotting away. It was more harmful than good, anyway. It had taken some convincing from your friends and each other, but you, Rafe, and Sarah decided to go to the bonfire, hoping it would bring some normalcy and energy back to the three of you. Today had been better than the others, too, so it wouldn’t hurt to venture out for a little bit. 

The scene was already busy when you got there, cheers and music coming from every area while people mingled and partied away. You walked in with Sarah, having already lost Rafe to Topper and his usual group of rowdy friends. 

“Here,” Your sister handed over a seltzer she’d brought along, the two of you pregaming a bit to take the edge off and help shake the anxiety. 

You thanked her, popping the tab and taking a sip as you unconsciously scanned the crowd for the familiar faces you’d come to love. Kiara and Pope were found first, the duo sitting by the fire and conversing with drinks in hand. JJ came next, the blond busying himself with a shotgun alongside some girl you recognized from previous parties. 

And then, there was John B. Your John B who begged you not to leave, promising to fix things, was up close and personal with a girl. A girl who wasn’t you.

“Oh, I’ll fucking kill him.”

You barely had enough time to grab Rafe’s shirt sleeve, your older brother seemingly catching sight of the issue as you did. You weren’t sure when he had ditched Topper and whatever blonde hookup he wanted tonight, but he had, and now he was pissed.

“It’s fine,” You reassured and took a sip of your drink, not yet letting go of his flannel as you tried to act like you were unbothered. “Leave it. For now.”

“He’s still a Pogue,” Rafe reminded you, eyes flaring with the need to teach John B a lesson. 

You nodded and let your grip fall. “Rafe, I’ve got it. I’ll handle it, and if things go south, then you can punch him.”

Rafe sent the sharpest glare toward John B, which went unnoticed before he returned to his friends with a handful of beers. Sarah rolled her eyes at his aggressive change but didn’t say anything, the two of you clinking your cans together before taking another sip.

One drink turned into too many, but you were so carefree and light that you didn’t care. Kie and Pope had come to join you at one point, the four of you a little too buzzed or high to acknowledge the tension with other members of the group. Sarah was leaning on your shoulder, looking the happiest she had since everything went down and you were glad to see it. Your siblings meant the world to you and now, they were all you had left.

“I’m getting another drink,” You announced louder than needed as you stood up from your friends and made your way toward the drink area without another word. To your luck (or unconscious movement), you managed to find John B near the bonfire, his attention still on the dark-haired girl you’d noticed earlier.  The alcohol-based confidence pushed you to approach him, despite the warning in your head telling you it wouldn’t end well.

“John B, hi.” You gave him a sickly-sweet smile and titled your head toward the girl, who you recognized as Jasmine from the coffee shop up the road. “Wanna introduce me to your friend?”

No introduction was needed but John B definitely did not anticipate seeing you here, and his eyes went wide at your presence. Sarah was suddenly next to you as the boy attempted to find a response, “Look it’s not-”

“We should go,” Sarah tried to reason with you, knowing damn well you weren’t in the right headspace to have this conversation right now.

Jasmine nodded in agreement. “Good idea, you should listen to your sister.”

“Did I ask you?” You smiled at her, letting the heavy anger seep into your tone as you addressed her. 

“You don’t own everything, princess. Why don’t you go run on home and-“

“Why are you still talking?”

Sarah began mouthing off with the girl, giving you a chance to turn your attention to a very quiet John B. “She’s a real gem. Glad to know you’re working real hard on figuring us out.”

John B’s face hardened at your words as a crowd starting to gather around you. “You’re the one who said you needed time. Guess three days was enough?”

You shook your head, begging your eyes to stop burning with tears that threatened to form. “Did I mean anything to you, John B?”

The question seemed to strike him hard but he didn’t have time to react before Rafe was in between the two of you, eyes looking to kill. “Back the fuck up, John B. You’ve done enough damage to our family this week, maybe try to take a break.”

The first punch was thrown fast, but the following ones came even faster. JJ and Pope were suddenly in the mix, Topper and Kelce coming to back up your brother as the typical Kook vs Pogue war started again.

“Are you happy now?” Jasmine hissed at you, a snarky smile on her face as she watched you yell for the boys to stop.

You glared at her, tears of frustration filling your eyes. “Shut the fuck up, you bitch. Maybe keep your hands to yourself and off my boyfriend next time.”

She pounced instantly, her hands shoving your shoulders and throwing you backward off the brick wall you’d been hiding on. The pain was instantaneous, a sharp twinge up your back from landing on your tailbone and scraped skin beginning to bleed, but the heat on your arm told you the push had been a little more than aggressive.

You screamed out, rolling away from where you had connected with the bonfire. You could hear John B yelling out for you, your name was being shouted in different directions and there were suddenly so many hands reaching for you. You pushed yourself off the ground, crying in pain at the movement, but you weren’t concerned about yourself. The rage in Rafe’s eyes told you that someone needed to intervene, and it needed to happen now.

“Stop, stop!” Your voice was weak as you reached out for your brother, trying to catch his fist before he landed another punch to John B’s already bruised face. “Rafe, please!”

The pain in your voice stopped him short, both boys instantly turning to you with concern and worry. It took them only a few seconds to clock the burn on your arm, and even though you hadn’t noticed the sway to your stance, they surely did. 

Rafe dropped his grip on John B’s shirt instantly, his hands reaching out to try and assess the wound on your arm before he forced himself to focus. “Hospital, now. We’re going.”

“We don’t have the car,” Sarah pointed out as she pulled off her lightweight coverup and pressed it against your head where the pain was starting to pulse. A small whimper left your mouth, and suddenly, you were against someone’s chest within seconds.

“Move!” John B’s voice was unmistakable even though your hearing was slowly becoming a dull ring. Everything passed in a blur from there. The chaos of the fight faded away and the orange tint from the fire disappeared as the group moved away. You could barely make out Sarah and Rafe’s voices, your siblings arguing over what to do and where to go.

“I’m not getting in a car with them!”

Worn leather could be felt under your legs, the familiar stickered ceiling of the Twinkie coming into view. You groaned at the movement, your head feeling heavier with each second. You blinked, barely having the energy to look over to see John B staring back at you, his bruised face filled with concern as he held you tightly against him. 

“No no, stay with me.” John B’s fingers lightly tapped your cheeks to call your attention as you blinked slowly up at him. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Sarah, drive!”

You could hear your sister shout back that she was trying. 

“I’ve got it,” Rafe’s voice followed her frustration before the car started moving beneath you and everything slowly turned to black.

--

You hated the smell of hospitals, but you hated waking up in them even more. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and when it did, you made out Sarah’s figure curled up on the spare bed in the room, her hair haphazardly strewn across her face. To your surprise, Rafe was slumped on the couch, his long legs barely hanging on as he lay across the piece of furniture, snoring softly. Which left one option as the person curled up in your side, the unruly dark curls giving away the answer.

“Hi,” John B’s voice was quiet in an attempt to allow your siblings to sleep. His green eyes met yours, sleep evident in the glassy haze they held. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” You whispered back, shifting carefully with the IV in your arm to cuddle into his side.

“Couldn’t sleep,” He admitted as his fingers dipped into the waistband of your jean shorts to brush against your hipbone. “Feel okay?”

You hummed in response. “What’d they say?”

“Concussion, second-degree on your arm, and a superficial blow to the head, my crazy girl.”

You chuckled, gripping his t-shirt between your fingers to pull him into you, “Gotta keep you on your toes, yeah?”

John B huffed a laugh and pulled your hand from his shirt to hold within his own. A few moments of peaceful quiet filled the room as you listened to his heartbeat in your ears, letting the steady sound calm your racing thoughts.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked quietly, fearing the answer he had to give. Your anxiety had gotten the best of you over the last few days and you’d been questioning whether a break from John B was actually the right thing to do.

“God, baby, how could you even think that?” John B shifted to lean on his elbow and look at you. There was a pretty gnarly bandage on your head where you’d hit the concrete on your way down. All John B could think about was how this was all his fault. He’d let you get hurt, let you down in every way possible, and here you were, scared he was mad at you. “All of this is my fault. If anything, you should be pissed at me.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him but stopped short. Yeah, your feelings had been hurt, but you knew if the roles were reversed and your actions landed John B in the hospital, you would never forgive yourself. 

“I’m sorry, about everything. You’re right, I was so caught up in revenge that I missed out on being there for you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. You needed me, and I wasn’t there, and I’m so sorry.”

You moved your uninjured arm to hold the back of his neck, pulling him in slowly for a kiss. John B hummed in content, his fingers wrapping around your waist as he leaned in again, pinning you against the mattress to kiss you again and again and again. 

“I forgive you,” You said softly when he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. “I’ll always forgive you.”

“This is cute and all, but can you guys shut up and quit making out?” You looked over to see Sarah glare tiredly before she flipped you off and rolled over on her other side to face away from you.

You and John B shared a quiet laugh and a handful of kisses before cuddling up on the tiny hospital bed in each other’s arms, preparing to face Rafe’s anger in the morning but moving forward together, one step at a time.

--

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[holylulusworld]

Unworthy (2)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Catch up here: Unworthy (1)

Unworthy masterlist

“Stop her then, son. If she told you the truth, we should find out more about what happened,” Odin feels like he just threw his daughter out of his house. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Why did I not double-check your information.”

“Husband, not now,” Frigga places her hand on Odin’s shoulder. “Do not make another mistake. Maybe she is innocent, but we need to investigate further first. Thor, follow her. She’s the best source of information.”

“Right,” Thor huffs but turns to follow you. “I’m not sure she told me the truth. Some people have the ability to sell you any lie.”

Thor walks away to follow you. He easily catches up on you with his long legs and determined steps. “Wait—” He calls your name. It’s more an order than a request.

You move toward the exit, ignoring Thor walks next to you. “I said wait.”

“What else do you want to accuse me of?” You stop for a moment to glare up at Thor. “Maybe I sold drugs to Loki, huh? Maybe I was the one getting him addicted. Just leave me alone, Odinson.”

“If the guy spiked your drink there should be a police report…right?” He cocks a brow. Thor is not as good as his father at reading people, but he can see the fear in your eyes when the memories of that night come back.

“My friend called the cops after bringing me to the hospital. I gave a statement, and they promised me that he wouldn’t get away with what he did to me. I believed them,” you laugh bitterly.

“What happened?” He steps closer to tower over you. Thor is intimidating, with his sheer size and figure dwarfing you, but you won’t cower in front of him.

“What always happens,” you shrug and try to balance the box in your hands at the same time. “He came from a good family with old money. My words against his. I was the outsider allowed to walk their holy halls because of a scholarship.”

“That’s awful,” Thor sucks in a breath. If what you’re telling him is true, he understands that you always despised him, the golden son having it all. He never had to work for anything.

“It didn’t matter that my friend, the doctor, and the nurse gave a statement too. They tried to pressure me into taking my statement back, but I refused,” you sniff, and look away. “I didn’t matter, though. He got away with it because his parents knew the right people. Suddenly my test results were gone, and the guests at the party didn’t remember shit. I was lucky to not lose my scholarship. If we are done here, I’d love to leave this shitty place.”

Thor doesn’t stop you when you walk away from him. He has a lot of information to stomach. Thor hopes you’re just a good liar, and he was right about you. But he has a hunch that every word you said was true.

“That’s all, huh?” Hela looks up from her laptop to glare at Thor. He thumbs through the papers and pictures on Hela’s desk. “You didn’t find more?” He asks.

“Stop nagging,” she snaps at him. “You should thank me instead of moping. I got the statement from her friend and the doctor. The nurse withdrew her statement right after she bought a brand-new car.”

“Sounds fishy,” Hogun grumbles. It wasn’t in his plans to sneak around your apartment and follow you around town. “I don’t think the sweet girl is a criminal mastermind. All she did was to buy groceries and look for a new job.”

“Hey, it’s still my turn,” Hela glares at Hogun. “We wanted to talk about her past before we get to the present and future. A shame I didn’t get the chance to interrogate her.” She smirks at her brother. “I bet the sweet girl would’ve been putty in my hands.”

Thor curls his upper lip. “What did you find out?”

Hela leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. She takes her time to inform her brother.

“I found more questions than answers. But I can tell you that the guy spiking Y/N’s drink is a piece of shit. Over the years his parents tried to cover all the shit he pulled. Luckily, they did not succeed. He crossed one too many lines and they turned their back on him.”

“Interesting,” Thor grabs one of the pictures taken at the hospital. You look scared and his heart hurts seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “Anything else?”

“No well done from you?” She huffs. “Always the same with you and father.” Hela snaps at her brother. “I tried to talk to his parents, but they refused to talk about the incident with Y/N. If you ask me, their son did exactly what Y/N said.”

“Says who…?” Thor questions. He’s still not convinced that you told him the truth and that you are innocent. If so, he’d be the worst person ever for ruining your career and friendship with his brother.

“How is he? Where is he?” You pant heavily as you try to find Loki. “Duke, where is he?” You ask Loki’s sponsor. “Duke!”

“He’s in a bad condition,” Duke’s features soften at your worried look. You’re out of your mind because Loki’s AA sponsor called you in the middle of the night. What if Loki is relapsed or is injured?

“Did he have a relapse?” You clasp your hands together to silently pray Loki didn’t do anything stupid because of what happened. “Duke?”

“No,” Duke shakes his head. “He needs you. Loki asked for you the whole time. I didn’t want to call you, but he wouldn’t stop. He’s vulnerable, Y/N.”

“I need to see him.”

“Loki’s inside my office,” Duke gently pats your shoulder. “Take all your time, Y/N. If you need a ride home, I’ll drive you.”

“Loki?” You walk inside the office, heart lurching in your chest. Loki sits on the ground. His long legs stretched out, and his head hanging. “Darling?”

“Y/N,” he murmurs but doesn’t look at you. Loki believed you gave up on him. Thor, his father, and Frigga didn’t tell him the whole truth. When one of your co-workers told him that you got fired and showed him the pictures Loki knew, Thor did this to you to get you out of his life.

“Hey, beautiful,” you sit down next to Loki and wrap one arm around his shoulders. “How’s my pretty boy tonight?”

“Not good,” he leans his head against your shoulder and sighs. “I almost fucked up again, Y/N. I was bad tonight. I…I…” he sniffles and wrings his hands. “I almost bought the poison.”

“Did you buy it?”

“No.”

“Good. See, you’re stronger than you thought,” you peck his hair. “I knew you could do it, Loki.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your job and my brother?” He murmurs. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Your brother is an asshole, you know that” you try to cheer Loki up while your world still lies in ruins. “He tried to find something to hold against me and succeed. It’s not the end of the world to lose a job, darling. I’ll find something soon.”

“Hmmm…” Loki thoughtfully hums. “Maybe I can lend you some money.”

“I got spared money, Loki. I’m not your friend because of your money, darling.”

“You are my friend because of my good looks, right?” Relieved that you are not angry at him for the things his family did, Loki sighs.

“I’m your friend because I love you, darling,” you pat his thigh. For a moment you are both silent. “So, you came here for a meeting?”

“Three,” he says. “I’m sorry Duke had to call you.”

“I told you a long time ago that you can always call me, Loki. Day or night,” you softly say. “Did you eat today, darling?”

His growling stomach answers your question. “Not much,” Loki admits. “I wasn’t in the mood for food.”

“That was the most awful rhyme I ever heard,” you laugh. “Come on, darling. I’ll take you home and we can eat my leftovers.”

“You want to take me home?” He purrs. “You can’t wait to get your hands on me, huh? I bet you waited for me to call.”

“You’re a little bitch, Loki Laufeyson.”

“I love you too, Y/N…”

You watch Loki’s chest rise and fall. Still worried about your friend you didn’t leave his side.

Finally at peace after hours of suffering and self-hatred, he sleeps peacefully on your bed.

He greedily stuffed your leftovers into his mouth and even burped because you wanted him to eat dessert too.   

You talked for half the night, assuring him that his father and brother can do whatever they want to. You will stand by Loki’s side. Whether they like it or not.

“If you don’t stop yelling at me I’ll hang up,” you snarl into the phone. “I only called to tell you that Loki is safe and didn’t have a relapse. He’s asleep and I’ll drive him home after he had breakfast.”

Thor yells into the phone. He throws profanities at you while his sister watches him with amusement. She chuckles and listens to your explanation. “Thor, calm down. She took good care of him.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” Thor grunts. “She gets fired and then…” He growls and grunts while you listen to his rant.

“Are you done?” You ask. “I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to wake Loki. He needs his sleep after everything he’s gone through last night. If you need to know more, ask his sponsor who called me, knowing I’ll be the one getting Loki out of the hole he fell into once again.”

You hang up, already regretting that you called Loki’s family. All you wanted to do was make sure they won't worry all night because he didn’t come home.

You harrumph and walk back inside your living room to switch through the channels. Sleep is out of the question after the call. Thor once again made you furious, and you hate the feeling.

Next time he dares to show his face, you’ll knee his balls and give him a piece of your mind…

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training IV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, mentions of forced pregnancy, mentions of forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

Jane was the one to greet you this time.

“You’ve been eating!”

She looked happy at that, smiling at you as she came to take the empty plate. You didn’t return it, mind wandering to Peter. He’d left days ago, and as thankful as you were for the solitude, you couldn’t help but worry. Once you’d started actually eating, it was like you couldn’t stop. Your body started craving food again, and it was then that you worried you might’ve been…tricked.

Peter said he was going to check on your mom, but how could you know that was true? After all, he was the reason you were even here, and he hadn’t done a single thing to show that you could trust him. In fact, all he’d shown you was the complete opposite. Everything that had happened showed you that you shouldn’t trust him…ever.

“Steve will be happy,” she continued, moving to unlock the bathroom. “You have a big day ahead of you, so you’ll want to scrub good.”

You frowned at that, following her into the bathroom.

“What do you mean?”

Were you leaving this room?

“You’ll be leaving this room today,” she answered your silent question. “You’ll be helping out in the garden with me and Sharon.”

Another woman, another name.

You repeated it to yourself, trying to keep count, and including yourself, that was five women. Which meant five men…at least, but then you thought about the day Peter had shown you Margaret, and there were men there you hadn’t even seen, so there was definitely more than five. The thought overwhelmed you, and you struggled to swallow.

Jane told you about what you’d be doing as you bathed, and when you were done, she had a dress laid out for you on the counter. You eyed it, hesitantly putting it on, confusion flowing through you. When you looked at Jane, it was the first time you noticed she was wearing a dress too. That’s all she’d been wearing, you realized, and so you didn’t question it.

Jane took your arm as she unlocked the door, and it hit you then that you were finally leaving this room. The thought had you shaking, and Jane rubbed your hand in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. As you glanced over your shoulder at the bedroom, she closed it, speaking.

“Normally, you’ll make sure the bed is made when you first wake up…”

Your eyes met hers as she continued.

“…then you’ll come downstairs and get started on breakfast, but seeing as it’s your first day, and you’re still adjusting, things will be a little different.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at her words, wracking your brain at all of this. You didn’t understand anything, and you looked around as she guided you down the hall. It didn’t take long to realize the house was large, and if you had to guess, this was more of a wing than a simple hallway. The thought was overwhelming, and again, you thought about what an escape attempt would even look like in a place like this.

Jane was talking to you as you walked down the stairs, your eyes roaming over pictures that lined the wall. Some were faces you recognized, like Steve and Margaret with a baby in her arms, and some you didn’t recognize, like a brunette man and woman with strawberry blonde hair. Still, it was all pictures of seemingly happy couples posing for the camera, and considering the reality behind the pictures, the sight made your stomach churn.

“We’re going to get you something in your stomach first, and then we’ll go to the greenhouse.”

She was leading you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“I would’ve brought you food in bed, but…”

She trailed off, looking…worried.

“Steve feels like you’ve been adjusting long enough, and he wants to see you contributing right away, so…”

Steve.

He was clearly the mastermind behind whatever this was, and it only made you more wary of him. You looked around again, taking in the house, and you were surprised at how…nice it was. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you were expecting some rundown house in the backwoods of this town. Considering how nice the room you’d been staying in was, you didn’t know why it didn’t occur to you that the house would be even more impressive.

The amount of money that went into this place hinted at the amount of money they had…and that terrified you.

The kitchen wasn’t empty when Jane guided you to it, and you blinked at the sight of two women, one of them familiar. You tried not to stare at Margaret, but it was hard. The first time you’d seen her, she’d been naked and was being brutally raped by her so called husband. You swallowed as her eyes met yours, a warm smile on her lips.

“This must be Y/N,” she said, and you were surprised by how…calm she sounded. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

She pulled you into a hug before you could react, and you didn’t exactly hug her back, but she didn’t seem to care. The other woman in the room barely acknowledged you outside of a tight smile, more preoccupied with whatever she was cooking.

“I’m Margaret, but sometimes I’m referred to as Peggy,” she continued, and you nodded.

She glanced at the other woman, and seeming to get the hint, she turned to face you. You noted how pretty she was, but it was a cold kind of beautiful, the kind that made her seem equally terrifying. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders in pretty curls, and her green gaze was unwavering.

“Natasha,” she introduced herself.

You realized that this was Nat…Bucky’s wife. The same woman who had been down in that basement for almost four months, and you looked at her with a gaze that bordered along awe. You hadn’t even lasted a week, and you found yourself feeling incredibly…inferior at the moment.

“Y/N and I are going to be helping Sharon in the garden,” Jane told them as she started to fix you a plate of food. “Something small to get her into the swing of things until Peter comes back.”

Natasha snorted at that, but otherwise said nothing, and you curiously eyed her.

“He’s just off taking care of something for Steve, but he’ll be back in no time,” she told you, turning to you with a smile.

You wondered if that was what Peter told Steve, or if that was simply the message Steve conveyed. Again, you found yourself wondering who Peter was lying to. You or them? You gave her a tight smile in return, and she urged you to go in the hall, promising that she’d be right out. You hesitated at first, but eventually did, and you slowed when her hushed voice carried.

“We’re meant to be welcoming, Nat,” Jane told her.

“Welcoming,” the redhead scoffed. “Right.”

There was a brief silence before she continued.

“Steve wants her out and helping out because he likes being in control, but she’s not okay,” you heard her say. “She’s not ready.”

You heard her roughly put something into the oven just as Margaret spoke.

“Keep your voice down,” she quietly told her.

“He’s not here.”

“…but Tony and Stephen are,” Jane said. “Thor too. If Steve thinks she’s ready then she’s ready, and that’s that.”

Jane joined you moments later, a soft smile on her lips.

You didn’t mention the conversation you’d heard, and neither did she. After eating, Jane took you through the house, giving a brief tour along the way, and you were finding it hard to remember the layout. When Jane guided you through a side door, you were surprised to find it attached to what was obviously the greenhouse. You remembered seeing a few gardens in the backyard, and you frowned.

As if reading your mind, Jane spoke.

“You’ll be outside helping in the other gardens one day, but, for now…”

She didn’t need to finish the thought. They were afraid you’d make a run for it, and honestly, if you were outside, right now, you probably would. The thought of getting caught and thrown back down into the basement made you shudder though, and you winced.

“I know this is a lot,” she finally said after some time, looking at you with an honest expression for the first time since you woke up. “…but you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t know why, but those words made your eyes water, and you looked away.

“Hey, hey,” she softly shushed, reaching for you. “It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over, and Jane tried to quiet you.

Your chest grew tight, and the greenhouse felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in. The idea that you would get used to this, that this nightmare wouldn’t even be that one day but instead something you saw as your normal life, it was too much. You thought about that picture of Margaret and Steve and their baby, and you wanted to be sick.

Jane was calling your name.

“Y/N, look at me,” she softly demanded. “You have to stop crying. You have to-.”

“What’s going on?”

You jumped at the new voice, and you froze, pressing your hand to your mouth just as Jane looked up. The fear in her eyes waned some, and you didn’t miss the way her entire demeanor softened. She swallowed, briefly glancing at you and rubbing your shoulder before lifting her gaze again.

“She’s still adjusting, Thor,” she slowly told him, gaze almost pleading. “She-she just needs a moment.”

She turned you around so you both were facing him, and she wrapped her arm around you, holding you close.

“Right?” she asked you.

You looked at her before looking at…Thor.

He was huge, and it wasn’t in an insulting way, but more so an observation about his build in comparison to Jane’s. His blond hair brushed his shoulder, and it was partially pulled back out of his face. He didn’t look real, blue eyes standing out so much, and you pressed your lips together as he eyed you. You didn’t know how to take him, but considering he was here with the rest and doing what everyone else was, you decided not to trust him.

You remembered that Jane had asked you a question, and you nodded.

“Use your words,” she whispered, squeezing your arm.

“Yes,” you quickly said. “I just got overwhelmed.”

Thor didn’t respond right away, and you were terrified of what he might do or say. It wasn’t lost on you though that Jane didn’t seem as scared as you. She was very much relaxed against you, and when Thor leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, you surmised that this was her husband.

“It’s a lot, young Y/N, but with my beautiful Jane here, you’ll catch onto the flow of things quickly.”

You didn’t miss the way Jane smiled at him, and it left a bad taste in your mouth. When he looked at you, you froze under the weight of his gaze. His demeanor was friendly, and you definitely weren’t as nervous around him as you were with Steve, but outside of the obvious, there was something about him that unnerved you.

He tapped Jane’s chin before turning away, and it was only then did she exhale. She rubbed your arm again, assuring you that you were okay, before turning you back towards the plants.

You’d been helping out around the house for two days when Peter finally came back.

You didn’t know he was back, of course, in the kitchen with some of the other women and getting breakfast started. You were with Sharon, Natasha, and Pepper. You’d met Sharon in the greenhouse the other day, the blonde woman welcoming you with a small smile. You didn’t know how to take her, and she seemed to think the same of you.

Pepper seemed stern, like Natasha, but kinder. You’d messed up quite a few times over the morning, and as annoying as you knew it had to be, she hadn’t said a single negative word. It took you longer than you wanted to admit that you recognized her from the pictures on the wall, cuddled up next to a brunette man with a goatee. You eyed her strawberry blonde hair.

“Here,” she told you, handing you some cut potatoes. “Toss these into the pan.”

It wasn’t lost on you that they were giving you tasks that didn’t require some sort of sharp object, and it was almost flattering to think they thought you had that in you. You weren’t so sure. Sharon was chopping some more as you did as Pepper instructed, and it wasn’t long after that that you heard her exclaim. You looked over as she hissed, and you stilled at the sight of the blood on the counter.

The blonde was holding her hand under the sink with Natasha’s help, and you faintly recognized that Pepper was saying something to you.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the blood, gaze roaming over it as crawled along the surface…the same way it had crawled away from Pietro’s body. You shakily reached out, grasping the counter, and you couldn’t make out anything in the room. All you could see was Pietro’s limp body sprawled along the pavement, and you sharply inhaled.

You blinked, eyes stinging, and you felt a hand on your arm.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head, but instead of darkness, you saw Wanda collapsing after Bucky had shot her. You saw how easily and quickly she’d died, and it was like you weren’t even in the kitchen anymore. You were running through the trees with MJ, her hand tightly clasped with yours���until it wasn’t.

Someone was calling your name, and you didn’t register why your knees were hurting until you opened your eyes to see that you were on the floor. You tried to stand, but you couldn’t, collapsing every time, and it took you way too long to realize what that loud wailing noise was.

It was you.

Your chest was hurting so much, and Pepper and Natasha were trying to shush you, but you couldn’t stop. Your vision was blurry from your tears, and you held your head in your hands. You were shaking so bad, and you slid down to the floor, forehead grazing the tile, and Pepper’s voice was in your ear.

“Y/N, you have to calm down,” she shakily told you. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you.”

“She needs to be quiet,” you heard Natasha say, her own voice sounding off. “…before…”

“What’s going on in here?”

You recognized that voice, and it only made you cry harder. None of them answered right away, too stumped by Steve’s presence, and the only sound for a few moments was that of your sobbing.

“She… We don’t know,” Pepper finally said, her hand on your back. “Sharon cut herself, and then she just… It triggered something, I guess.”

You could hear his heavy footsteps nearing you, and he sternly told Pepper to move. She did, and when Steve’s hand made contact with your arm, you screamed. You hadn’t meant to, the sharp sound escaping before you could stop yourself. You pushed yourself away from him, but with nowhere to go, you only pushed yourself against the cabinet. Your nails dug into Steve’s arms as he tried to grab you, and you were crying so hard you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Maybe you should get Peter,” you heard Natasha hesitantly suggest. “He just got back, didn’t he?”

You could only assume Steve took her suggestion because you didn’t feel him anymore. You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to quiet yourself, but you couldn’t stop. You kept seeing their bodies over and over again, MJ’s face as she pushed you away. The blood on your hands…

You felt yourself tilting again, about to sink back down to the floor, when someone stopped you.

Hands were on your face, wiping your tears away, and a familiar voice was shushing you. Peter’s lips brushed your ear as he leaned in, and one of his hands slid to the back of your neck. He softly said your name, once, then twice, before telling you that you were okay. When he pulled away, he wiped your face again, and you peeled your eyes open.

Your gaze met his, and Peter tilted his head at you.

“You’re okay,” he gently told you, a small smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re dead,” you choked out. “They’re dead-they’re gone!”

“I know,” Peter said, pulling you against him. “I know.”

You could feel his hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing circles into your back. He shushed you, standing and forcing you to stand with him. He held your face in the crook of his neck, and you could faintly hear Steve’s voice as he said something. Peter said something back, but you couldn’t make it out.

You tripped over your own feet as he kept you against him, guiding you out of the kitchen. You almost collapsed again going up the stairs, but Peter kept you from falling. His fingers dug into your waist, and the other hand wrapped around your arm. You were too consumed by the memory of your friends’ murders to care about the close proximity, legs trembling and heart racing.

When he finally got you inside of your room, he didn’t stop you this time when you sank to the floor. Your forehead was pressed to your knees as you brought them up, and you wrapped your arms around your legs. You cried so much your head was starting to ache, and it was only when your sobs died down into soft sniffles did Peter speak again.

“I have something for you…something I think you’ll want to see…”

You slowly looked up at his words, remembering why he’d left to begin with. Peter was standing over the bed, reaching into a duffle bag, and you watched him pull out some pictures. Your lips parted as he neared you, and he knelt before you, handing you the pictures. With one look at them, your eyes watered again, but for an entirely different reason.

It was pictures of your mom checking her mailbox. She had a phone pressed to her ear, and you couldn’t stop flipping through them. You felt Peter wipe your face again as you did, your hands shaky, and more tears spilled over as you studied her face.

“She looks so sad,” you tearfully mumbled. “So worried.”

It was true. You could see it on her face, in her eyes, and it made your heart clench. You couldn’t imagine what she was going through, and you started crying again. It was interesting, because by anyone’s standards, you were in a far worse situation, but all you could think about was what it was doing to your mom.

Peter sat with you as you repeatedly flipped through the pictures, and you wiped your face.

“I’m never leaving…am I?” you asked after some time.

The words came out choppy, shaky, and you looked at him. You held his gaze as Peter reached out to brush away a stray tear, and he moved closer.

“No, pretty girl,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No.”

The pictures fell into your lap, and you dropped your face into our hands. Peter let you cry, and you didn’t know how to feel. You hated him, and how could you not? He was the reason you were even here. He’d wanted you, and so he took you, but then you’d think about Steve and how he punished Margaret, and just how mean he was…and you found yourself wanting to be grateful to be stuck with Peter.

…but you didn’t want to be stuck here, at all.

You felt Peter take the pictures, and you lifted your gaze.

“I didn’t tell Steve what I was really doing…”

You frowned at that, and you realized that Peter had lied to him. Not you.

“So…” he reached out, gently taking your chin as he held your gaze. “This will be our little secret, right?”

You faltered at that, frown deepening.

“If Steve finds out, I won’t be able to go and see her again.”

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered.

It was just as painful as it was exciting to see her and see how she was doing. You weren’t there, and you never would be again, and the thought made you so sad. It felt like you were just torturing yourself, and you shook your head.

“I can’t…” you trailed off, more tears spilling over. “She has no idea if I’m even alive, and I can’t see that.”

Your head drooped.

“I can’t watch her mourn me.”

Especially when you weren’t even dead, and that only made you think about MJ’s parents, Pietro and Wanda’s. They were in the same boat, you assumed, only their children were dead. You wondered what they did with their bodies, wondered if they at least let them be found so they could be buried or if they just… You looked away, more tears spilling over, and Peter pulled you against him when you started shaking.

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Peter pressed his face into your hair.

Sleep was hard to find.

You were on the floor again now that Peter was back, slipping out of the bed the second his breathing grew light. You’d been staring up at the ceiling for hours, thinking about your mom and your friends. It was too painful, but you couldn’t stop, replaying the memories in your head and thinking about how much your mom had seemed to age in such a short time.

It made you want to cry again, and you pushed back the tears, sitting up.

You felt almost…pitiful. All you’d done was cry and mope and lose your mind at the sight of blood. You thought about Natasha, finally putting a face to the name of the woman who’d lasted almost four months down in that basement, and you hadn’t even lasted a week.

You peered over the bed, looking at Peter as he slept.

Yes, he’d done a nice thing, and no, he wasn’t Steve, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Peter could let you go, and he wouldn’t, because no matter how he may have felt about Steve’s methods, he wanted you here. You were here because he wanted you here, and you slowly stood. You knew the door would be locked, but you tried anyway, and you weren’t proven wrong.

You tried to think of where Peter kept the key, and you bit your lip.

Searching for it without turning on a light was nearly impossible. You didn’t think Peter would be stupid enough to just leave it in either of the nightstand drawers, but you were shocked to find them locked anyway. A few tears escaped, and you pressed your lips together. The closet door was always locked at night too, and you pressed your hands to your eyes, swallowing down a sob.

You were just about to try the door again when Peter’s voice startled you.

“What are you looking for?”

You jumped, hand tightening on the knob as you pressed yourself closer to the door. You didn’t say anything, and light soon flooded the room as Peter turned on the lamp. You kept your gaze on the wood, afraid to look at him, and you shuddered when you heard him push himself to his feet. You pressed our forehead against the door, and you flinched when Peter touched your arm.

“Do you want to be sent to the basement?”

Peter’s voice was low, but you heard home, nonetheless, shaking your head.

“Do you want…do you want Steve to tell me to drag you outside, tie you up to a tree and-.”

“No, no,” you choked out, shaking your head. “No.”

“Well, that’s what’s going to happen if he catches you trying to escape…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“That’s what would happen if I weren’t a better man, and I told him that I caught you trying-.”

“I’m sorry!”

Tears spilled over.

“Do you know how much I had to convince Steve to let you stay up here after what happened yesterday? He wanted to make an example out of you,” Peter whispered, his fingers grazing your arm. “He wanted to throw you down in that basement for a month.”

Your stomach turned at the thought, and you couldn’t stop crying. You felt Peter take your arm, slowly pulling you to him, and he backed up until he was sitting on the bed, taking you with him. Your head drooped, eyes on your lap, and Peter wiped your cheek.

“Things could be so much worse for you,” he whispered, leaning in, lips grazing your cheek. “I’m trying to help, but you have to help me.”

You sniffed, and Peter straightened the sleeve of your nightgown.

“Help me help you.”

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs, and Peter stroked your face, playing with your hair.

“Okay…?”

You sniffed again, briefly closing your eyes, and you gave him a hesitant nod. Peter sighed, and you felt his hand drift, tracing circles into your back.

“How about this…”

He moved closer.

“You sleep up here, tonight, because now I feel like I can’t trust you.”

“No, I-.”

“Sleep up here with me…and I won’t tell Steve about what you tried to do.”

You froze at his words, blinking, and you looked away. The thought of sleeping next to Peter made you want to be sick, but at the same time, the thought of Steve finding out that you’d tried to escape made you want to die. It made your blood run cold, heart dropping to your stomach, and you slowly looked at Peter.

His brown eyes were warm, no hint of anger in them, and he reached up, gently grazing your jaw with his fingers.

“What do you say, pretty girl…?”

You looked down, heart threatening to leap from your chest, and against what you wanted, you gave him a shaky nod. Peter softly urged you to your feed, gently taking your hand. You couldn’t stop crying, silent as tears spilled over, and Peter shushed you, tucking you in. He sat on the edge, hovering over you with one hand pressed into the bed on either side of you.

His dark brown hair kissed his forehead, and the smile he gave you was meant to be reassuring you guessed.

“This will be our little secret, okay?”

You held Peter’s gaze for a while, playing with the comforter. You wanted to trust that he wouldn’t tell Steve, and even though you didn’t, at least not fully, you also didn’t have a choice. Sleeping next to Peter for one night was nothing in comparison to however Steve would want to make an example out of you.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed.

His smile widened at that, and you remained still as he stood. Peter walked to his side of the bed, the room bathing in darkness before he joined you. He didn’t move closer nor even reach out for you. He stayed on his side as he sought sleep once again, and against what you wanted, your body started to do the same.

[shira-cosmic-star]

Hi 😎

Last time I got struck by nostalgia and re-listened to the zombie song and (of course) it reminded me of Ren (the brain rot is strong) bc of the whole zombie/horror movie thing

So i thought I could ask u for some hc with either zombie!mc x Ren, Leo and Ritsu or the opposite with them being zombies 🫠🫠 thank u in advance 🫡

You’re a Zombie!? 

Tags: Comedy, GN!Reader, and Fluff. Inspiration from the song and an anime called “Zombie Saga” 

Warning: Small gore, nothing too graphic, gun violence, body parts removed or fallen off, 1,854 words

Before Darkwick: 

When Mc first came to Darkwick, they decided to keep one thing a secret. It's a huge secret too. They’re a zombie, Mc died a while back but doesn’t remember how they died. All they know is when and how they had found out. Mc met a strange man. This man has quite a loud voice too. This man is a scientist who brought them back to life. Though, they aren’t the only ones either. He had done this several times. Successfully too, before they joined the ghouls. They lived with the other Zombies. Mc would consider them family since they can’t go back to their original family. The scientist known as, “Father” now. Has made sure that if Mc and their siblings goes outside. They have to wear makeup and pretend to be, “normal.”

Father had forbidden any of them from leaving the house without makeup to cover their rotten flesh. Then again, makeup all over their body wasn’t all that comfortable. Yet, each of them has grown costume to it all. Father was also extremely protective of them. He’s extra when it comes to his personality, but he cares for each and every one of them. He also has rules set in place for them. No going out at night, avoid all types of water or anything that takes of the makeups, don’t talk to cops or strangers without him present, and if you are going somewhere, he needs to know where and when. If the outside world knows about zombies' roaming around. All hell will break through and each of them will be taken. 

This was extremely hard on Mc and the others when the news was broken to them. It was hard to fathom that they were dead. None of them remembers how they died. Well, now some of them knows but Mc doesn’t remember how they died. Father has told them that one day they will remember. He didn’t tell them himself because he simply couldn’t. When they do remember, he tells them that his and their siblings will be there for them. 

So, as time goes on. Mc lives their life the best they can. Now they were on campus, at Darkwick. Things moves so fast that sometimes Mc wishes that time would freeze. First, they were going home on a train, then they were attacked, now they are at Darkwick assisting the ghouls. Mc first debated if they wanted to tell the ghouls that they are a zombie, but they were afraid of what the school would do. They were also scared of their friends' reactions too. So, to keep themselves safe. They kept it too themselves.

----------------Σ(っ °Д °;)っ-------------

Ren: 

The first time Mc’s secret came out, it was when they were helping Ren with the water anomalies. They knew better, they totally knew better. It was one of Father’s rules, stay away from anything that can wash up the makeups. Yet, they really wanted to see the aquatic anomalies. Ren needed to feed them. So, as he went to get the foods. They stayed put near the water. One of the anomalies wanted to play. It started to make little bubbles as Mc watches. They laughed while watching the cute thing. Mc wanted to pet the little dolphin’s head. Yet, they knew better. They were tempted, while biting their lower lip and hugging their knees. They ended up giving up and reached out to pet the dolphin. However, they ended up slipping and fell into the water. They panicked as the makeup on their body washes up. Now their dark grayish blue skin was visible. They pulled themselves out of water.  

As they crawl on the dry ground. Ren had come back with a bucket of food. Ren had come back with the grubs for the aquatic anomalies. In shock, he drops the bucket as he stares at Mc. Since the makeup has been washed off, a huge stitched up scar on their face was now visible. The scar starts from the top of their forehead on the left side of their face. Then it runs down over their nose to the right of their cheek. Ren sees how different their skin looks too. Its darker, like a light gray with a tiny tint of blue. But that's not all that freaks him out. It was the fact, your foot with the shoe had come off. Mc hasn’t seen Ren yet, nor hears him. They reached out to pick up their foot that was floating in water. Then they popped in right back on like it was nothing new to them. 

“A-AHHHHHH!” Mc jumps from the scream and quickly turns around. They see Ren and tries to get him to calm down. 

“Ren, I can explain! Please stop screaming!” They desperately, begs him to calm down. Once he calms down, he demanded answers. So, they sighed and took a deep breathe. They patted the spot next to them. He sits down and Mc tells him everything.  

“So, that’s that, you’re not going to tell the school, are you?” They asked, fearful that he would tell the school. But he shakes his head no and rubs the back of his neck. 

“No, I won’t say anything. This will be our secret. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.” He reassures them, causing them to smile and laugh softly. 

“Thanks Ren, I owe you one.” 

“Just don’t pull a limb off in front of me. At least try not too...” He tells them, he’s cool with seeing it in movies. Though in real life, it’s different. The real-life sounds, the sight of it. Yeah no, he isn't a fan of it. 

“You mean I can’t lend a hand?” They spoke jokingly as they take off their right hand. 

“ARGGGHHH!” He screams again, Mc pops their right hand back on. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I won’t do that again!” 

-------------------(⊙ˍ⊙)------------------

Leo: 

Once again, Leo needed Mc to help him listen to Alan’s and Tohma conversation. So, there they were. Sitting on the couch, right next to Leo. Completely bored out of their mind. Leo has been holding their hand for nearly an hour. Mc was starting to grow bored by the minute. They tried scrolling through their phone to keep them busy. Yet, nothing grabbed their attention. Mc needed two hands if they wanted to play their games. They tried watching TikTok or YouTube, but they forgot their earbuds. 

They sighed heavily as they rolled their eyes. 

“Quit moving, you’re distracting me.” 

“Leo, I’m bored...” Mc whines impatiently as they pout. He ignores them and continue what he is doing. After a few more minutes. Mc starts to think about what to do to keep them occupied. Then, it hits them. Why not freak him out? He’s only holding one of their hands. Mc can easily slip away. So, slowly they start to remove their arm that Leo was holding. Leo wasn’t paying attention to Mc much. He was scrolling on TikTok as he listens to Alan’s and Tohma conversation. 

Slowly, Mc was able to slip away and slide of the couch. All without Leo knowing. They have always wonder if the ring would still enhance the ghoul's stigma with their arm being detached. Some of the ghouls already knew that Mc was a zombie. So, they shouldn’t be surprised if a limb or so, pops off. Right? 

Well, after they slip away from Leo. They head down to the kitchen where Sho is. They have told Sho what they did, and they shared a laugh. Sho have asked them to take Leo’s lunch to him. And so, they did. Upon arriving back in the room where Leo was. They stand beside him and tells him, they brought lunch. 

Leo looks up from his phone, see Mc, and then looks at his hand; holding theirs. He sees their hand in his, but that can’t be? He does a doubletake and realized by their grin. That they have removed their arm to sneak away. 

“Very funny NPC.” He rolls his eyes as Mc laughs little by his reaction. They sat back down next to him and still doesn’t place their arm back on. 

“Well. you did ask me to lend a hand” They joked, and Leo glared at them for their lame joke. Secretly finding it cringy in a funny way.  ----------------(o゜▽゜)o☆-------------

Ritsu: 

Ritsu and Mc needed his captain to sign papers again. Unfortunately, Taiga was in a mood. Not a good mood, a terribly bad mood. Mc and Ritsu had tried to reason with him. Yet, all has failed. Taiga ended up pulling out his gun and points it at Ritsu and Mc. 

“Get lost, you’re pissing me off.” He spoke in an indignant voice. Taiga’s eyebrows lowered and knit together, his jaw tightens and his lips curls into a frown. Whatever happened, has really set Taiga off. Once again, he tells them to leave. Ritsu, takes a step closer to him and tries to negotiate. Then, a gunshot was heard. Ritsu, didn’t have enough time to activate his stigma, though. He doesn’t feel any pain? Ritsu had open his eyes, only to see Mc. Shielding him from the bullets that were fired. 

In shock, he sees that Mc had a gun wound on their left arm and upper chest. He thinks that Mc was going to die or bleed to death. Yet, they didn’t collapse. Mc was still stand, they turned to Ritsu and ask if he's okay. 

“I’m alright, but what about you? What were you think?” He turns the questions to Mc. He was filled with worry and questions. How are they not bleeding? Aren’t they in pain? Why would they jump in front of him like that? Are they stupid and reckless? So many questions came across his own mind. Mc quickly grabs his hand, and they dash out of the room before Taiga strikes again. 

“Mc, tell me what is going on?” Ritsu demands answer, he feels confused. Not a feeling he likes to feel. He always finds an answer, otherwise it’ll bother him until he gets an answer. Mc nervously shuffled their feet on the floor as the thwittled their thumbs. 

“Well...” And so, they explain what is happening to him. About them being a zombie, on why there isn’t any blood, why they aren’t in pain, and any other questions he has. He was fascinated by what Mc is telling him. 

“A zombie, that would explain things. So can you remove any parts of your body?” He asked Mc. His eyes hold a shinning bright look, he even wrote down a few details of the answers to his questions. Mc smiled and nodded their head. They reached for their head and pops it off of their body. His eyes widen from the scene. 

“I can still talk if I lose my head” Once again, they joked with a cheeky grin. Maybe being a zombie wasn’t so bad after all. 

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

(Unedited)

I hope you all enjoyed this one. It was fun to make. Ritsu's part was a little hard for me to make. So, it might not be the best, but I do hope you all enjoyed. Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog. Reblogging help putting my work out there. If you want request, you can request on my page. Just click the, "Ask me anything" box. You can also request more than once!

Ѕтay dazzlιng мy Ѕтarlngѕ☆

[luvhockey111]

accidentally in love

Based off of Accidentally in love by counting crows!!

warnings: drinking, swearing a little bit

my first piece!!! It’s not that great, just wanted something to put out and was bored this morning so decided to write this. Let me know what you guys think and if you have any requests!

Summary: Luke and y/n have known each other for as long as they can remember. What happens one summer night when y/n finds Luke awfully close to a girl? I mean they are only just friends… right?

Overview of Luke and y/n relationship

Luke and y/n have been friends since they were born; as Ellen and Julie (y/n mom) were roommates in college. By some weird coincidence Jim and Allan (y/n dad) had been childhood best friends. This has caused them to grow up across the street from each other. If you think about it, it’s destiny really. Anyways, Luke and y/n always say they are “platonic soulmates” but who are they trying to fool with the use of the word platonic? It’s definitely not any of their family members so themselves and eachother must be the ones they are trying to convince their feelings are strictly platonic..

It was a perfect boat day, the sun was warm and shining and the water was a perfect mix between cold and warm, but refreshing nonetheless. Y/n was sitting next to Luke with her legs stretched out in his lap, his hands atop them, Quinn driving, with jack, Trevor, cole and Alex fighting over who gets to wakeboard next and who gets aux. Jack happened to win both of those arguments somehow. Jack had been saying he was going to be throwing a little party tonight since it was the first week everyone was officially back at the lake. “Jack your parties always end with something bad happening” Y/n mentioned. Jack shot her a look of disbelief. “Ummm last time I checked nothing bad has ever happened to me at one of them, only the rest of you idiots”. In reality jack was right, at his first party Quinn’s girlfriend broke up with him over text. The next, Trevor broke the glass sliding door. The one last summer, the cops showed up and kicked everyone out because it was too loud but jack wasn’t around at that moment so Luke said he was in charge and ended up getting a fine. “I’m gonna bring the boat back we should start getting stuff for tonight and getting ready” Quinn told the group. A string of okays came from everyone. Y/n pov:

Right when the boat docks everyone runs off to go get ready for tonight. Luke and I go to our room- yup we share a room but I mean all best friends do… right? Our room has two full size beds but last summer we pushed them together to make a mega bed. Now it’s really no secret that I’ve been hopelessly in love with Luke for as long as I can remember. Everyone knows it. Sometimes if Luke talks about another girl or if he is talking to one and myself or anyone sees it they shoot me a look of pity. I mean it’s pathetic really, being in love with your best friend since you were legit born and not even being able to tell him. I mean we’ve done everything together our whole lives, I even went to umich for him. There’s times that I think that maybe just maybe we could be something more but every time, wannabe frat boy Luke screws it up and flirts with a girl in front of me or talks about a girl in front of me. I mean it’s not his fault- he has no idea. I was listening to some music before the door swung open and in came Luke “kit, you wanna take a shower first or should I? Or we could save water and shower together” Luke shot me a wink while wiggling his eyebrows. Kit is a nickname the three boys gave me when we were 5 because I loved cats and anytime I saw one whether it be a picture or in person I would shout kit as loud as I could. I may act like I hate it but I love it, I think of it as some form of love. “shut up Luke, you shower first get away from me.” I say while giggling and hoping my face doesn’t betray my words by getting red and hot from the blush I so desperately am trying to hide. “Whatever you say kit” he says as he comes closer to me to give me a hug. The second we hug our song starts to play. So she said, "What's the problem, baby?" What's the problem? I don't know Well, maybe I'm in love (love) Think about it every time I think about it Can't stop thinking 'bout it

The second the song starts to play Luke starts twirling me around, spinning me in his arms. Little does he know this song is literally describing my life. Ugh how I hate Luke hughes for making me feel this way. ~time skip to later that night when jacks party is in full swing~

so far jack has made me take 3 shots of some nasty tequila he’s only drinking to look cool in front of girls and other guys. I’ve had 2 seltzer’s also so far so I’m starting to feel tipsy, keep in mind I’m not much of a drinker I prefer to smoke if I’m being honest. I haven’t seen much of Luke for the past hour, which if I wasn’t tipsy I would probably be freaking out but right now I’m having a good time. Until I look over to the backyard and see some girl with her chest pressed against Luke and his arm around luke… my Luke. I could A.) go outside and cause a scene or B.) just go find some guy to flirt with. Both options aren’t great because the first one I would definitely embarrass myself and have Luke be mad at me and the second, well I’m not the best at talking to guys. Now I’m no Virgin Mary but definitely not experienced enough to be confident in talking to or hooking up with a guy. Except for one guy, Trevor. Trevor has flirted with me since the day I met him. I always flirted back to the best of my ability but in reality he knows how I feel about Luke and I know that he will never compare to Luke, but what’s the harm in trying to make Luke jealous? “heyy trev” I say while going into his side forcing his arm to go around me. “What’s up kit? You having fun? Sure sounds like it” he says with a low laugh. “I am but I need your help with something” “Anything for you kit” as those words leave his lips I feel heat rush to my face. Must be the alcohol. “Can you help me try and make Luke jealous, he’s talking to a girl outside right now and I can’t stand to watch it” I say as I can feel tears brimming my eyes. “Of course I can, you know I love to get on all of the hughes’ nerves.” He definitely has a point there. Trevor and I take two more shots for “good luck” as we go outside. I see the girl talking to Luke and she’s beautiful, beautiful like she just stepped out of vouge. My body starts to feel hot with jealousy, I turn to Trevor and he’s sitting down in an Adirondack chair by the fire so I take a seat on his lap, facing him. Trevor’s hands rest on my hips, again I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or not but Trevor is looking really good right now. Until I hear the sound of accidentally in love playing from the speakers and hear Luke come up to Trevor “Hey have you seen y/n our songs on” I turn around and all of a sudden Luke’s body tenses, fists clenched and eyes flash an emotion I’ve only seen a few times, something like anger or jealousy even, there’s no way he’s jelaous I thought.

“Oh hey Lu” I say innocently while in the background all that can be heard is

“Well, baby, I surrender To the strawberry ice cream Never ever end of all this love Well, I didn't mean to do it But there's no escaping your love, oh”

Luke grabs my arm and leads me up the stairs to our room. “What the hell do you think your doing y/n” Luke says, face red with anger. “Luke what is your problem” now I’m getting angry. Why is it okay for him to be all over other girls but I’m with one guy WHO WE KNOW and it’s a problem? “Why were you all up on Trevor’s lap like some kind of —“ he stops himself. “Some kind of what Luke? Tell me” He shoots me a look as if I am the one who just implied he was a slut. I go to try and walk out of the door when Lukes arm reaches out and grabs me. “why were you sitting on his lap you only ever sit on mine” Luke says looking defeated. Why am I starting to feel bad? “I just was talking to him and that’s how we were sitting, I don’t know Lu” “we’re you going to hook up with him?” The question lingers in the air. Was I? I mean Trevor’s hot and all but I only really have eyes for Luke but like I said Luke is never gonna happen he doesn’t even have feelings for me. “I don’t know, I mean if something happened I wasn’t gonna stop it.” Luke just dead stares at me. “You can’t hook up with Trevor, you just can’t.” “I can hook up with whoever I want to Luke”

He takes a step closer to me so now we’re only an inch apart. My body feels like it’s on fire, looking up at him with the soft glow of the moon outside he looks like an angel. Ugh What am I saying I’m supposed to be pissed at him right now. “Luke I” Within a second Luke’s lips are on mine. For a moment everything seems right, our lips fit perfectly together like a missing puzzle piece to the old puzzle you’ve had for years and you’re only missing that one piece, when finally you find it in the most blatant of spots. We pull apart and when I open my eyes Luke is smiling at me. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long kit.” He says as this thumbs are rubbing across my cheeks. “Lu can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “I think I accidentally fell in love with you a long time ago.” I say and Luke’s smile gets even bigger if that was even possible. “I think I accidentally fell in love with you a long time ago too.”

“I'm in love, I'm in love I'm in love, I'm in love I'm in love, I'm in love Accidentally

Come on, come on Spin a little tighter Come on, come on And the world's a little brighter Come on, come on Just get yourself inside her love I'm in love”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Outfoxed: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Man usually avoids attributing cleverness to somebody else unless it's an enemy." - Albert Einstein

It's been another month of working hard, trying and failing to see you in prison, and trying to get through days without crying. Spencer so desperately wants to see you that he goes to prison almost every day to see if he can't get you to talk to him. He understands why you don't want to see him but you're supposed to be his other half. You're supposed to push that fear away and face him. He's not going to think less of you because you're in prison for something you didn't do.

He'd be at the prison right now if it weren't for the immediate case he's needed on. An entire family was killed except for the husband who was serving in the Army out of the country. He flew back as soon as he was informed that something had happened. He wasn't given any details so that will be a fun conversation when he touches down.

"How was your weekend?" Emily asks when Spencer arrives at the crime scene.

"Lonely." He hates sleeping alone. "Was the whole family killed?"

"Yeah."

"Hudson, this is Dr. Spencer Reid," Rossi says.

"Hi, I'm field agent Anne Hudson. The father is serving in Iraq. Three nights ago, the cops found his family buried over there."

"Buried?"

"The neighbors heard the dog barking, came over, and found him scratching at the grave. Lucy, their oldest child, was still in her swimsuit," Emily sighs.

"What does the father know?"

"Some of it. He was on patrol. It took his unit a couple of days to reach him. He arrives today."

"Last year, the Williams family was killed and found exactly the same way. They lived in Newport. The father, Dan Williams, was also serving overseas. Now, the police are overwhelmed and getting serious heat from the military. We need some answers fast."

"As do the media," JJ says. "They're already calling this the work of a serial killer."

"They're right. It is."

"Why hurt them, though? It can't be to hide the bodies."

"It's a sign of remorse and when they're done being remorseful, this will happen again."

Hotch and Rossi walk inside while the rest of the team stays outside to discuss the case. Hotch looks over the physical evidence to gather the facts.

"There's no sign of a struggle," Hotch sighs.

"So, the unsub holds a gun to one of her kids' heads. What can she do at that point? I see footprints that belong to Paul. Somehow he managed to get away. Mom gets it first and then the youngest."

"He hides in the master bedroom, the unsub finds him, and shoots him. He carries him out to the backyard, but not the mother. She's dragged out. It's quick and proficient."

"For the mother and the boys, maybe," Hotch responds, "but Lucy's drowned and not shot. Why the change in MO?"

Hotch and Rossi hear planes flying overhead so they rejoin the group outside.

"F-22 Raptors," Derek says to them.

"Yeah, it's about to get way louder and much busier. Tomorrow is Langley's 50th-anniversary air show," Anne informs.

"Where is Dan now? The father of the first family killed."

"He put in for another tour of Iraq. An IED killed him two months ago.

"Whoever did this knew both fathers were serving overseas."

"Laura Downey's wedding rings are missing. Any other valuables that were taken?" Emily asks.

"We'll have to ask the husband. From the Williams' home, only jewelry and watches were missing."

"The unsub only took what he can carry, which means he's most likely on foot," Spencer says.

"There's no sign of sexual assault in the Williams case. What about Lucy?" Rossi asks the field agent.

"Nothing is on the coroner's report. Could there be multiple suspects?"

"The mother was dragged out of the house. If there had been multiple suspects, They probably would have carried her. He knew the father was absent, therefore the dominant threat was absent. So, we could be looking for a single suspect."

"There wasn't any sign of forced entry."

"No need for one. Lucy was in the pool so the back door was opened. The unsub walked right in. Lucy probably died first."

"In both cases, the girls were suffocated and not shot. I don't think it's a coincidence."

Penelope calls JJ and she places her on speakerphone.

"Hey, Garcia. You're on speaker."

"We just got a call from Virginia Supermax Prison. One of the inmates there has received two envelopes in the last two days. The first envelope had clippings of the Newport killings. The second envelope had media clippings of the Downey family. In the second envelope was a note saying, 'Look at what I've done,' and both pieces of mail have been signed by 'an admirer.'"

"Who's the inmate?"

"Karl Arnold."

"The Fox?"

"Yeah."

"It makes sense. Family annihilator, absent father, and wedding rings. It's similar to Karl's killings of eight families four years ago. Just like in this case, he took wedding rings only he took them as trophies. He'd hide in the bushes outside the homes."

"Are we working with a copycat?" Anne asks.

"It's too early to assume anything. It could bias the profile. Not to mention the police, the media, and the military would jump all over it."

"Until we're positive, none of this information leaves the seven of us." Derek looks at Spencer who is staring at the ground. He has a heartbroken look on his face, and Derek decides that enough is enough. "Can I talk to my team alone, Anne?"

"Sure."

"Okay, this is how it's gonna go. We all agree that we need Y/N back. Virginia PD ain't doing shit because they believe they got their suspect behind bars. Her trial is coming up in the next couple of days so if we have any hope of getting her released, we need to work on it." He looks at Hotch's look and shakes his head. "I don't care if Strauss breathes fire up my ass. Hotch, you're going to go to the prison with Prentiss and speak with Karl. You know him better than any of us. Have Garcia check on all of Karl's prison correspondence and visitors for the last four years. JJ and Rossi will work with the media and Virginia PD for this case while the rest of us will work on Y/N's case. We only have a few days but I think we can pull this off. Agreed?"

"Okay, Captain Joseph Downey has arrived back at the station," JJ says.

"We can do this guys. Let's bring her home."

JJ and Rossi split up and head back to the police station while Emily and Hotch get into one of the cars so they can head to the prison where Karl is located. JJ and Rossi meet the Captain in one of the empty conference rooms. He is standing stiffly with his hands behind his back, head held high.

"Captain Downey, please, sit," JJ says.

"Thank you, but I'm fine. Tell me everything."

"Three nights ago around nine-thirty, your neighbors called the police when... Your family..." There is no easy way to put it so Rossi rips the band-aid off. "Captain Downey, your family was murdered. All of them."

The man gasps in pain and falls to the ground in tears.

"Is there someone you'd like us to call?" JJ asks.

"Um, no. No, I, uh, I'd like to go home now."

"Captain Downey. Captain Downey." Rossi tries to help the soldier up but he jerks away from Rossi's touch. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

All he can do is sob for his family and feel guilt that he wasn't there to protect them. He is given time to process and grieve while Rossi and JJ work together since they're the only ones available for this case.

"If this unsub's copying The Fox, then we profile him like The Fox. Karl Arnold worked as a psychologist's assistant, right?"

"Yeah, which made it easy for him to watch, target, and learn about the victims from a distance."

"It also made him hard to find. Like The Fox, our man here found a way to hide in plain sight."

"He's pulling from two completely different units. Williams is a medic and Downey is an army Captain. Someone knew of that military connection."

"Both families were attacked within a month of the fathers being deployed. It gave them time to settle in and get comfortable that the fathers weren't there. Once inside the home, The Fox would live with the families and then become the father. Not this unsub. He just walked in and dispensed with the family. Living with them wasn't part of the fantasy," Rossi explains.

"Agent Rossi," Anne says. "Here is the picture you requested." Rossi saw a place inside the Downey home that housed a picture that he wanted to analyze, and Anne has it. "Thanks to you, we pulled some prints off it. The prints match that of the Newport killings. It's the same killer."

"Family annihilators like The Fox start with one victim. Once they feel capable, they move on to a second victim. They don't start with entire families. There are more victims. We just haven't found them yet."

Penelope calls JJ and she steps off to the side to answer the call.

"Hey, Garcia. Got anything for us?"

"Yeah, Karl had a smattering of visits, a couple of whack jobs contact him, but nothing as direct as this admirer person."

"How are we doing on the prints on the picture?"

"I'm still running them. How are you holding up?"

"Military families always fear the worst. They know their men may not return, but this? To see a father lose so much? It's heartbreaking."

"I wish I had something for you. I truly cannot find a damn thing that connects these families."

"Geographically, both of them are thousands of miles away from their family. Communication's all they had through emails, phone calls, and letters."

"That's military communication for you. Even between families, it requires a kind of juice I'm not allowed to use."

"Come on, you hacked into the FBI database," JJ chuckles.

"And they gave me a job. I like my job. I like my life."

"Alright, I'll make some inquiries."

"Yeah, do that. Take care."

JJ hangs up and walks back to the group which is still talking about the current case.

"So, Lucy dies last and alone. This by itself doesn't really mean anything, but when we look again at the Williams file, we notice that the majority of the foreign fingerprints came from Karen Williams' room, which means the unsub spent most of his time in there with her."

"He must have separated her from the rest of the family," Anne concludes.

"Lucy was already in the pool. That much was done for the unsub. Then, this unsub is driven by some other kind of compulsion, some other need. Hotch was right. This isn't a coincidence. It's a possible signature," Rossi says to JJ. "We need to look at each of the victims as a hub with lives outside of their own families."

"Well, each one of them has their own connections outside the family like school, friends, tutors, and business colleagues. Each one of these people is considered access points back to the family."

"That could take weeks," Anne sighs.

"You have time. From remorse to the desire to kill again, the unsub will go through a gamut of emotions. It could be another year before the unsub feels the desire to kill again."

"As horrific as these crimes are, this city doesn't have the resources to commit that amount of time."

"We have full access to all military records for the fathers," JJ says.

"At least we have access to the main hub between families, the dads."

"Let's find out what connects them."

"I'll let Hotch and Prentiss know," JJ says and walks off.

x

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[renjunniex]

Thank You, For Being You

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader Series

Omega Part 2

Omega Part 1 | Shape Shifted | Ice Pick | Abomination | Venomous | Frenemy | Restraint | Raving | Party Guessed | Fury

A/n: hey guys! I hope part one was good, honestly i feel like I could’ve written more but idk i guess as i continue this series I’ll learn what’s a good length for each chapter. ALSO I’m trying to think of a name for this series so if anyone has any ideas, let me know!! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Prompt: After leaving Isaac and the cemetery, you made it to the hospital and you, Stiles, and Scott are ready to look for Lydia.

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“Is this the one she was just wearing,” Scott questioned. At the moment you three were packed into Stiles’ Jeep trying to figure out your next step in the plan. Stiles glanced at you in the back seat with a look of desperation, you nodded back to try and reassure him the best you can but in a situation like this, is it really possible? He let his eyes meet Scott’s once more before giving a slight nod.

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again,” Scott reassured, but to you it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than the worried boy in front of him and you couldn’t blame him. Lydia really had gone through the most horrific incident and knowing the fact that Peter, the alpha, had done it to her only means this was the least of her problems going forward.

You shifted in your seat, catching the boys attentions, “We’ll figure this out, we always do, okay?” You gave their shoulders both a squeeze, before they turned from you back to one another. “Alright, well shove the thing in your face and let’s find her,” Stiles sighed while starting up Roscoe, the lights reveal Allison making you three jump in surprise.

“Wow!”

“What are you doing here? Someone’s gonna see us,” Scott stressed.

Allison shook her head before responding, “I don’t care, she’s my best friend, and we need to find her before they do.” You furrowed your eyebrows at that statement. It didn’t make sense, who was ‘they’? You noticed Scott also wearing a slightly confused face, “I can find her before the cops can.”

“How about before my father does?”

“He knows?” You and Stiles synced.

“Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs.”

You three quickly glanced at each other, “Search party,” you voiced.

“It’s more like a hunting party.” Allison glanced over at you. You moved from the middle of the seating to behind Stiles’ seat while Scott opened his door to let her in, “Get in.” With that, you were on the road and the long lists of questions started.

“Alright, but if she’s turning, would they actually kill her?” Stiles drove down the road as fast as he could. You turned towards Allison and she shook her head, “I don’t know they wont’t tell me anything. All they say is we’ll talk after Kate’s funeral when the others get here.” You grabbed her arm, “Others?”

“What others?” Stiles questioned.

“I don’t… they won’t tell me that either.”

“Okay, your family’s got some serious communication issues to work on. Scott, are we going the right way?” Scott had his head out the window trying to find Lydia’s scent, if this wasn’t such a stressful situation you might have actually laughed at how amusing the sight was. You called out to him the best you could with the wind in his ears, “Please tell me you picked up on something.” Scott sniffed the air, “Take the next right!”

Stiles turned fast making you and Allison slide into each other, once you had settled back into your seats you glanced at the window when you felt your thoughts become all fuzzy. It was like everything around you blurred and your senses lowered as well, but you felt something. Something so fainted it was hard to focus on but as you try your hardest to listen to it, you realized it felt more like a wave of energy. Suddenly your mind became clear again, everything around you came back from being almost rendered useless to completely heightened.

Lydia.

It was almost like you could feel, see, and touch her but she was no where near you. Almost like some kind of supernatural energy is allowing you to locate her by using some kind of connection. To what, you couldn’t possibly know, this hasn’t happened before. You knew some kind of strange phenomenon happened to you when Scott got bitten. You couldn’t even for sure say when it started but the first time something major happened was when you made your locker close by itself out of anger. After that it just felt like every situation brought on more strange occurrences.

However, you couldn’t think about all that right now. Whatever it was that was happening to you, it was allowing you to possibly find Lydia. You could handle the confusing feelings about everything after she was found and safe.

You finally made it to where Scott was picking up a scent but it didn’t feel right. You decided to keep that part of you quiet since you know to base it on just your ‘gut feeling’ is crazy and there’s no way they would go off that and you wouldn’t blame them. You had no time for uncertainty, you had to find Lydia… before they do.

“She came here? You’re sure?” You picked up your head to see Stiles turning around to look at Scott and Allison, considering they had been trailing behind you and Stiles the whole time, you figured they were discussing something important. Scott nodded his head, “Yeah, this is where the scent leads.” You both looked at each other before Stiles sighed lightly while you two kept up your lead. After barely taking two steps, Stiles turned around again.

“Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?”

“Not with me,” Allison replied.

“It’s possible, it’s not even in her control. If she is in fact turning that is,” you said.

Your suggestion seemed to peaked Allison attention as she turned to Scott, where you could barely hear them discussing about the idea of how packs work. “Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?” You finally heard her question. “Yeah, we’re stronger in packs.”

“Like strength in numbers?”

“No like literally stronger, faster, better in every way.”

“Same for an Alpha?”

You glanced over to see Scott hesitate, “Yeah, it’ll make Derek stronger too. It’s why Peter wanted Scott so bad, not to mention his insane ego problem with that sprinkle of absolute crazy he had,” you turned to them as they looked up ahead at you. “But to be honest, I don’t think she’s here, in fact something tells me, she barely had passed through.” Scott’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?” You shook your head, “I can’t explain it but something feels off, like I don’t think Lydia is anywhere near here anymore but I couldn’t tell you how I know that though.”

“Hey look at this. I think it’s a trip wire,” Stiles said messing with the wire line.

“Don’t touch it, you idiot,” You rushed over to smack his shoulder but it was already too late.

He had tripped the wire and had got his best friend got in it. “Stiles.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Stiles turned to see Scott hanging upside down and you with your hands covering your face. “Next time you see a trip wire, don’t trip it.” Stiles pointed to him, “Yeah, noted.”

Stiles walked over to start to try and release Scott, not before earning a smack on the head from you, which in turn earned you a giggle from Allison.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Scott said in a rush. You three froze almost simultaneously. He continued, “Someone’s coming, hide.”

No one moved causing Scott to wave his arms chaotically.

“Go!”

Allison and Stiles scattered while you slipped behind a tree nearby in case anything happened. While you technically speaking, had no control over whatever power you gained you knew well enough that emotion triggered it. When it came to Allison’s father, anger was easy to feel. You finally heard his voice once he got close enough.

“Scott.”

“Mr. Argent.”

“How are you doing,” Argent inquired.

Barely in your eye line, you could see Scott shrug his shoulders, “Good just hanging out, is this one of yours? It’s good. Nice design, very constricting.” You chuckled slightly, Scott always had a thing for being so socially awkward it almost physically hurt you.

Argent sighed, “What are you doing out here, Scott?”

“Looking for my friend.”

“Ah, that’s right. Lydia’s in your group now, isn’t she? Part of the clique, is that the word you use or is there another way to put, part of your pack?”

You could already feel your body start to shake from anger, he was so infuriating! You understood that his family had a way of doing things and that it had been like that for centuries but Lydia is just kid.. Scott is just a kid! Both were put into the situations they’re in now, so you couldn't even fathom how this grown man, this father, could just so blindly follow his so called ‘code.’

“Actually, clique sounds about right to me,” Scott rebutted.

“I hope so, cause I know she’s a friend of Allison’s, and one special circumstance, such as yourself… One I can handle. Not two.”

There was a moment of pause before he kept with his point. “Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?”

Scott’s breath shook slightly, “I have a feeling I don’t want to.”

“A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half, takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that. Let’s hope a demonstration never becomes necessary.”

All you could see was red, he was threatening Scott? What was this guy’s deal? You were glad that Allison and Stiles were out of ear shot because before you even could think you came out from behind the tree. “Really? Because I’m willing to bet that a certain someone would love to know about this conversation.” Argent glanced at your position next to the tree with a slightly surprised look.

“So unless you would like me to inform said person of this conversation,” you continued, “I suggest you walk away now and go about your night.”

Argent took one more moment to glanced at Scott before standing and turning around to go on his way. Before he could get too far away though you let your voice be heard once more, “And Mr. Argent?” He stopped and his head turned to look over his shoulder, acknowledging your presence again. “We will find Lydia and you will keep you and your men away from her, because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you end up that demonstration… and I won’t need claws and fangs to do it.”

You smiled once his eyes met yours, “Enjoy your night, Mr. Argent. Drive home safe, I’m sure Mrs. Argent is worried about you.”

With that, he left.

A few seconds went by and when they were finally out of sight, Allison and Stiles rushed back towards you, asking Scott if he was okay. To which Scott replied back, “Just another life threatening conversation with your dad.” Allison went to try and get Scott down from the wire asking you and Stiles for help as well. Only for Scott to take his claws and cut himself free when we weren’t paying attention. “Thanks, but I think I got it.” You three glanced at each other with sounds of amusement and agreement before you join Scott back towards the Hale house and back on your search until finally you had to all go home, especially since Allison definitely couldn’t get caught out and about with you guys.

~

The next morning, you decided you would just walk to school for some fresh air, you knew the route would take you passed the cemetery but what you didn’t know was that there would be a crowd occupying the space as well. Among them happened to be none other than Mr. Lahey, Isaac, and Sheriff Stilinski. You checked your watch and decided being even more late to a lacrosse practice wasn’t too awful, considering you were just the team manager and not a player.

“Sheriff, hi!” Sheriff turned to see your smile and wave, returning the gesture before his expression took on a confused front. “Shouldn’t you already be at school, for practice?” You glanced at the other members in the party as you reached the huddle, while one pair of eyes made you feel a soft and floaty feeling instantly, the other was so cold it made any content emotion you had dissipate. You had also taken notice to a black eye on said soft and floaty eyes, you gained your composure back as fast as you could and shrugged in response to the Sheriff’s question. “Well you know me sir, sleeping in is my middle name.” Sheriff huffed a small chuckle and nodded along.

“Plus, I saw Isaac here and figured he could use a second person to voice to Coach on why he’s running late for practice, he’s on the team, you know?” You gave a nod in Isaac’s direction, Sheriff turned back to the father and son, “You play for Beacon Hills? My son plays for the team. Well, I mean, he’s on the team, he doesn’t technically play. Not yet, anyways It’s-”

“We’re working on getting him to play now.. hasn’t been all that successful, as you know,” You responded, which earned you a raised eyebrow from Sheriff and a soft smile from Isaac. You raised your hands up, “What? It’s true!” Isaac’s glance was no longer on you but behind you, which both of you noticed and turned to see nothing but empty forest.

“Something wrong, Isaac?”

Isaac’s gaze snapped back to Sheriff and he quickly shook his head, “No. Oh, no, sorry. It’s just Y/N’s right, I have a morning practice to get to.”

“Just one more question.”

You readjusted your bag on your shoulder, “I’ll wait for you over there, while you finish up. Mr. Lahey, nice to see you again. See you later, Sheriff.” You received a stiff nod from one man and a slight pat on the shoulder from the other. You made your way back to the entrance of the cemetery and Isaac joined you a few minutes later.

You walked in silence for a while but you just couldn’t handle it anymore, “Where did you get the black eye?” You could feel his panic as he tried to glance at you nonchalantly, “Lacrosse”

“Lies,” You shook your head, “He did it, didn’t he?”

“Isaac please, why won’t you let me tell someone, Sheriff could help and I know he would listen.” He instantly rejected the idea, “It was nothing, just an accident, that’s all.”

“Okay, fine, even if I did believe what you’re telling me. I know for a fact he’s done something and probably stuff a lot worse than I could ever imagine.” You stopped and placed yourself in front of him, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, grabbing his hands, “Look, I know we’re not close, really we hardly know each other outside of chemistry and lacrosse but I do care about you and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You felt his whole body freeze for a split second and he took a jagged breath, “I know and I appreciate it, but I’m okay.” You couldn’t have hidden the slight look of disappointment even if you tried but you nodded anyways. The two of you continued your walk in silence until you reached the locker room.

By the time you both made it to the locker room, it seems that you ended up not really being late after all. Coach had started giving a speech that had to do with Lydia. To be honest, you zoned out so all you caught from the whole thing was to contact an adult about anything.. and something about losing a testicle to exposure..

Everyone scattered to head to the field, while you looked for Stiles and Scott, only to find them huddled in the corner with the one person who makes you wish your head would explode.

“If Lydia wants to take a naked hike in the woods, why should I care?”

You walked up to the trio, putting your arms around your boys’ shoulders, “Because, being an apathetic jackass is far from cute, and you’re low on the scale when it comes to that rating already.” You felt both Scott’s and Stiles’ arms wrap around your waist to support your position. “Because we think she might be.. you know, turning,” Scott redirected the conversation.

Jackson sent you a narrowed glance, which you gladly returned, “Into..?”

You three met each others eyes as if you had just been given the most ridiculous logic problem known to man. “A unicorn, what do you think, dumbass?” Stiles snarked. You let your head rest on Stiles’ shoulder before scoffing, “I can’t believe we share oxygen with this guy,” You remarked.

Stiles and Scott gave a slight breath of amusement, while Jackson continued to shoot daggers at your head. Jackson readjusted his feet before looking back at the boys, “Well if Lydia’s turning, I don’t think she’s the one that’s gonna need help.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Scott.

“When I was with Lydia, you should of seen the scratches she left on me,” smirked Jackson.

You huffed, “Yeah, probably out of desperation to escape.” Jackson’s head snapped towards you and you gave him the most sickly sweet/sarcastic smile you could muster. You felt both boys tighten their arms around your waist and squeeze your sides, to let you know to chill out. You just couldn’t help yourself around Jackson, his face alone made you want to give him a right hook to his jaw.

“What do you think she’s gonna do with a set of real claws,” Jackson pushed in between you and Stiles, making you lose your balance and start to fall, luckily Scott’s reflexes allowed him to balance you back on your feet. You scoffed, “God, I really hate that guy.”

~

Later on, you were at your locker still seething about Jackson from earlier this morning. You banged your fist on the closed locker next to yours and let out a slight yell of frustration while slamming your own locker shut. You turned to find the hallway no longer empty, now housing Isaac, who stood frozen probably due to your outburst.

“You okay?” You felt your face get hot from the embarrassment of your slight tantrum being caught. You let your back lean against the lockers and you shook your head keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Jackson’s such a dick.” Isaac let out a laugh and nod in agreement.

You felt pressure on your shoulder and looked to the side to see Isaac now standing side by side to you, leaning his head down to try and meet your eyes.

“Yeah I think the whole county could attest to that. What did he do?”

“Exist.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before you took a breath and slid your back down the lockers, Isaac joining you moments later.

“He just pushes my buttons, this morning the boys were trying to talk to him and he was just being an arrogant ass like always. Just frustrating.”

“I thought you three hated him.”

“Oh trust me, we do.”

“Then why were they even talking to him.” You looked at him for a moment debating on what you should say and deciding on something close to but just not quite the truth was good enough. “They wanted to know if he had known anything about where Lydia could be.” Isaac nodded in understanding. He put his hand on yours, “Hey can I ask you something?”

Your hand turned so that way he was now holding it, “Of course.”

“How did you three become so close?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Me, Scott, and Stiles?” He nodded, you gave a breathy laugh.

“Honestly? We’ve known each other our whole lives basically, I guess our parents all knew each other some how but my parents ended up dying in an accident when I was little, I don’t remember it. Melissa and the Sheriff took me in after that, eventually Melissa took me in full time and I’ve been there ever since. Those two empty headed boys are truly like my brothers, we grew up together and they’ve always been pretty protective of me, I guess it was only natural for us to be so close.”

You let your eyes meet Isaac’s and what you were met with made your heart flutter. He just had the softest look in his eyes, a look that made your whole world seem like it was just you two. You couldn’t even explain it fully if you tried. “Why do you ask?”

Isaac shook his head with a slight smile, never breaking eye contact. “You’re always together so I figured talking about them would help relax you.” Your eyes widened and then as if out of a manic episode you started giggling. “You’re right, it did.”

“Okay then, tell me something else.”

You hummed in response. “Why are you always in the middle?” You chuckled, “You noticed?”

“Yeah, those two will always switch which side of you they stand on but you’re always in the middle, why?”

You adjusted your position on the floor to your shoulder being the part of you that's leaning on the lockers, “Well do you remember that one kid in the third grade, he almost always wore plaid and his parents were both realtors? They moved later on, when we reached middle school,” Isaac nodded, “Okay, well for some reason, that kid was obsessed with me, and I’m talking OBSESSED, but not in like a cute way. He would be nice to me some days and then others it was like his mission to make it the worse day of my life.”

“I went home crying almost every day that first semester, Melissa and Sheriff didn’t know what to do, the school didn’t know what to do either. Eventually, Scott and Stiles came up with this plan, since we were in the same home room, they would stay by my side all day, everyday. 24/7. When we were in the school, there wasn’t a moment they weren’t on either side of me. After that, the boy wouldn’t come near me anymore, I guess there always being an audience to his acts was enough to get him to leave me alone.”

Isaac chuckled, “I guess that’s one way to deter a stalker.”

“Yeah, and then it just became second nature to us, I guess.”

Ding!

Your world was broken back into reality by a text tone. Stiles. Again.

Why was Stiles always the reason these moments of yours were broken up?

You opened the text to see something about a funeral, the Sheriff and a car disturbance in the woods. “I’m sorry, it’s Stiles, he wants me to meet them somewhere, I should go.” Isaac smiled at you, “Of course, not a big deal.” You didn’t even give yourself time to think, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug and his arms secured themselves around your waist

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.”

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A/n: AND THATS ALL FOLKS! I wanted to leave the first episode on a sweet note, especially since Isaac really doesn’t appear too much in the first few episodes. I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think! Btw this isnt edited so please forgive me for any mistakes lol

Taglist: @somiaw @pecxiebu

[bcolfanfic]

If this is too dark you can ignore it I completely understand but I was rereading east side of sorrow (A++++ fic FWIW) and thought about how it would’ve gone if Bucky,,,went through with the attempt,,,

putting this under a read more bc it’s dark but. i have thought about it too.

***there is no canon or b side of young vets au where he does go through with it, this is just a ‘what if’ thing

i do ultimately think he wouldn’t have been able to go through with shooting himself in the living room. he almost did in esos yeah, but even right before gale came out he was already second guessing that aspect of it bc he- even in worst moments- didn’t want to burden gale like that.

so if he did i think he’d pull a side b croz and go into the woods to do it. gale wakes up one morning and he isn’t there and. feels a very distinct sinking feeling that feels a lot scarier than just normal worry that john isn’t in the house.

then he finds his note ):

feels like the world is crashing down on him but he also. disassociates. tries to call him a few times and after 3-5 times with no answer calls the cops and very flat toned tells them his husband went off somewhere to kill himself and he’d like if it they figured out where, thanks. then he hangs up and just. feels like all his strings were cut. is sitting at the kitchen table in complete dead silence, unmoving, staring at the wall for nearly an hour until the police officer calls him back and says they found a body, does he need someone to drive him to the morgue he can send an officer. very gentle and patient officer at least.

but gale says no it’s fine he can get there, thanks. doesn’t remember a second of putting his shoes on or getting in the car or driving. feels like he blinked and then he was staring at his dead husband with a bullet wound in his head. gets the 1000 yard stare look on his face and feels like he can’t move till something in him snaps and he just. shatters ): can’t stand upright anymore and is completely hysterical crying so hard he feels like he’s gagging but not saying any words. what use would it be anyways when he can’t hear him because he’s dead. he stays in there for a while which the staff don’t mind, and when he is ready to be done someone walks him out to his car and just plops herself in the passenger seat with him. not gonna let him drive home till she feels like he’s safe to do that. all gentle and soft asking if there’s anyone he needs to call, she can help,

and the first person that pops into his head is curt

god. poor curt <\3. the second his name crosses gale’s mind he feels like he’s about to shatter all over again because he knows this is going to be the worst day of curt’s life too. the staff woman sitting with him calls the number and tells gale she can talk to him but he puts his foot down about that, knows curt needs to hear this from gale himself.

curt gets on the first plane out there and as terribly devastatingly heartbroken as he is he finds the strength to muscle through and take care of as much as he can for gale. handles the majority of the funeral stuff, calls john’s family, is just about feeding gale by hand so he eats anything at all. then when kenny flies out a week later that’s when curt’s strings finally snap. nearly collapses in the driveway the second he’s close enough to have him in his arms and gale can see the two of them sitting out there crying for a while.

i think gale puts down the idea of arlington funeral. can’t stomach a military funeral when the military is why john went and shot himself. and i think since curt, ever perspective, has a feeling gale isn’t going to stay in wyoming for much longer now he convinces him on cremating him after the funeral.

gale just. mhm. sure curt.

my poor loves ):

[meenawrites]

So.. I finished Alchemy of Souls

Guys, the amount of tears I just shed in front of my entire family in the last episode of part 2 is crazy.

They were just sitting there like, you good? It's fiction as I'm sobbing my eyes out.

Anyway.

I have many thoughts. So many. And I lowkey want to make a separate post for each of them.

But for now I do want to leave some of my impressions about the finale: (spoilers ahead obviously)

I thought it was pretty well done. I expected to be a bit more shocked about the whole Jin Buyeon is Jin Seol-ran plotline but it honestly made sense to me and I feel like it was actually foreshadowed pretty well for the most part, even in season 1.

Also they definitely got me good with the deaths of Park Jin, Maidservant Kim, and Jin Hogyeong (if that's how you spell her name). Like that's when I started crying tbh. (I could care less about Mama Jin tbh, she sucks, but that deserves its own post). And I'm glad that them actually being alive didn't feel like a cop out to me. They established early on that Jin Seol-ran knew what would happen and used that to their advantage so it was believable and didn't feel like a Deus Ex Machina move for them to be saved. Well, maybe one of them should have died (cough–Mama Jin–cough). But it's fine.

I do feel like the last two episodes were kind of rushed though. I don't know if they had budgeting constraints or if Netflix didn't give them more than ten episodes, but I think that they should have had at least 12. Two more episodes would have allowed for more expansion on the climax and allowed them to up the drama more, which I think would have done well for the series over all, and would have been a better payoff.

I think the time could have been used well to flesh out some of the side characters arcs more. I feel like Danggu and Jin Choyeon were kind of pushed off to the side this season, and especially in the latter half, but I would have liked to see more of them and their relationships not only with each other but with Jang Uk and Naksu/Jin Buyeon.

For all intents and purposes, Naksu/Jin Buyeon lived as Jin Choyeon's sister for three years, and we can see that despite everything that happened three years prior, Choyeon did treat her as her sister even knowing the soul was Naksu's and cared about her. I think that could've and should've been expanded upon, her choosing to care about Naksu/Jin Buyeon or how that came to be. Also, after Naksu regained her memory AND found out Jin Mu had been for sure controlling her at the end of Part 1, I would have loved to see the conversation between her and Choyeon about what she did, an apology and an explanation that she would never have done that if she were sane of mind. What I said about Choyeon applies to Naksu as well because she lived three years as Choyeon's sister, and we can tell she cares about her, so I would have loved to see more of her feelings towards her, especially upon remembering all that had transpired in part 1.

When it comes to Danggu, I mean, he's one of Uk's best friends, and he was left out of the loop a lot when it came to anything Naksu-related. I would have liked him to find out or for Uk to tell him at some point and see how he makes peace with that. Because Danggu and Mudeok were friends in part 1 and he supported her (erroneously) in her supposed romance with Seo Yul. But then she killed his fiance's father and tried to attack him. I can't imagine the sense of betrayal he felt, but also finding out that it wasn't her fault and how he could come to terms with that would have been great to see. I also think his whole experience/trauma from part 1 was kind of glossed over. Like his main thing this season was his broken heart after Choyeon didn't end up marrying him, and I think that was making his feelings a bit too one-dimensional there. They do talk about how he feels slightly uncomfortable/doesn't know what to do with Jang Uk at the beginning of the show, but once Seo Yul comes back, that's kind of forgotten about and the three of them just start hanging out again no problem. I would've like to see a bit more about him struggling with becoming Leader of Songrim as well and how he adapted to that amidst his heartbreak for both his love and his friend who he doesn't even know how to act around anymore, and even towards Naksu/Mudeok who kind of ruined his future and that of his best friend but also being intuitive enough (because he is and he has one of the best hearts we've seen in the show) to realize that there's more to the story than her just going on a murder spree.

I've seen some talk about people saying they didn't like the actress for season 2 as much as season 1 (forgive me, I forgot their names), but I think both brought something good to the table.

Season 1 actress for Mudeok was really good. Her facial expressions were spot on and her chemistry with Lee Jaewook and the other cast members was really good. I think she definitely had great stage presence and made the show popular in the first place. I just don't agree that season 2 actress was worse.

I think season 2 actress definitely put in the work and embodied who Naksu/Jin Buyeon was for the majority of the series. There were times where she made expressions that perfectly resembled/echoed Naksu/Mudeok's that really got me like yes they are the same person even if she doesn't remember. She may have been cuter than we were used to with out sharp-tongued and emotion-resistant Mudeok, but I think Naksu needed that. As Mudeok and before then she didn't have the luxury to be more emotional and girly, it's only now in this body that she does, and I'm glad she had the opportunity to express that side of herself that had never seen the light of day.

We did get a glimpse of that side of her at the end of part 1 where she's playing around with makeup and what might make her look pretty, and it really spoke to all that she had missed out on and had to give up in order to survive. So yeah despite all the angst, I'm glad Naksu/Jin Buyeon had that opportunity through season 2 actress who played it really well while keeping in line with the essence of Naksu/Mudeok.

This whole thing about Naksu being the shadow to Jang Uk's light and if light exists then it needs a shadow broke my heart you guys, it was so perfect. And the fact that they were each other's light and shadow at different points but were also wholly necessary to each other in that was beautiful. I want to talk more about this in a separate post, so I'll table this metaphor for now.

Shout out to Crown Prince Go Won, a great character this whole season in terms of both comedic relief and massive character growth. So good.

Uk's arc was fantastic too but again want to save that for a full post.

Those are my out of order first thoughts about part 2, but I have SO MUCH MORE to discuss, so I will come back for sure. I just needed to scream to the world for a bit (virtually of course).

Question though for all of you more knowledgeable in the k-drama world: is there going to be a season 3?

[2012aura]

under your mattress

summary : everyone had their secrets, yours just happen to be contained in a box under your bed.

warnings : snooping

pairing : spencer reid x black!reader

you and spencer had been dating for around a year now, and you felt as close as you humanly could. but every human has its secrets, every single last one of them, including you.

that smile plastered on your face every day when you stepped into the office fell just as fast when you stepped out those walls. those very crowded walls that you called your workplace, and sure work made you happy, the bau family made you the happiest and so did spencer. but you didn't understand happiness, before this monumental change in your daily routine. as a kid, you lived in las vegas, in one of the poorest and crime-filled neighborhoods, compared to your boyfriend. he was a child prodigy, he knew nothing other than being so, but you, oh jesus you knew. you have lived as a naive girl, an antisocial teenager, and a once-running-from-cops sort of girl. you have lived many lifetimes in this small one that you own now, you were currently twenty-one years old.

you have gone completely sober, with no alcohol, no parties, and only the occasional smoking here and there. for these unspeakable things you have done, you had a journal that you hid under your bed, it was an old shoe box from one of your childhood pairs of shoes. sure it seems weird in your mind when you pull out the now faded sparkly box of some light-up shoe you forgot the name of, but the piles of letters and notes in there explained your every thought from every living moment of your life. surprisingly this wasn't a problem, you've had roommates, and partners who never really questioned the late hours of the night when they could see that iconic box being pulled out and you sitting on the floor with a pair of soundproof headphones. it was your safe haven, and you honestly didn't want anyone to disturb that, that was until you met spencer.

he was nosy, and everyone knew it, which wasn't a bad thing, in fact in some cases it was good. but not in this one, never would it be good in this one, the things you had in that box were sacred. you thought of it like the bible, writing every waking moment you could remember, and with that came good and the bad. it was an early saturday morning, spencer decided to stay over after the movie marathon you both had last night, and you not knowing any better sat your sorry ass on the floor and began to write. you wrote how you enjoyed spencers company, how you adored him and his words and his being in general. it was different with him, it really was, no one has ever treated you with so much respect, love, and care. not even your own father could come to this point, and your absolutely adored spence for that, you worshiped the ground he walked on like he was some god. so you wrote and wrote, and even as your fingers grew cramped and numb you didn't put the mechanical pencil in your hand down.

you didn't take notice of spencers not so sleeping eyes for staring daggers into the back of your head. this night has opened my eyes by the smiths was blaring in your ears and you had no plan on stopping the sweet melodies that studied your ears at this moment until you felt the bed shift, spencer was trying to catch a peak. he knew about your journaling habit but he had never seen it up close and personal, and he had never dreamed of it, he knew this was something close and personal to you. but what person doesn't wanna get an insight into their partners' life before they were together? when you felt the bed shift you swiftly closed the journal, with the long drawstring that kept it closed, carefully placed it inside the box, and slid it under your bed, into the darkness once again. you knew nearly everything about spencer, but he knew only so much about you. you didn't talk about your family, not much anyways, you always said things like, “oh yeah my childhood was fine, had my mom and dad, and i grew up alright.” but as a profiler spencer knew there were wounds deep below the surface.

you removed your headphones from your ears and before you could speak spencer beat you to it, “easy there tiger, i'm not gonna look at your journal.” he said in a rather silly way. it made you giggle, “yeah i know spence, just didn't expect you to be up so early!” you brightly said as your climbed back onto the bed, forgetting all about the music playing on your phone. you cuddled next to him, his slim form molding into yours. you like mornings like this, the silence of the birds outside and the sun shining hitting spencers eyes just right, letting them melt into a pool that you could drown in. “want some breakfast spence, it's on the house” on the house was a joke you'd both usually make, he initially met you when you were a waitress, waiting to get into the law field but things didn't take off yet. you worked at the infamous waffle house, yup a fucking waffle house. still, you two didn't start dating until you moved your work to the bau. “sure thing baby, i bet it's gonna be delicious,” and with that you were out of his arms and making your way to your little apartment kitchen, waiting for him to follow behind.

you wanted to trust him, trust that he was just soaking in the sunlight but your mind begged you to think otherwise. so after a few seconds, you came back and peeked your head in, and he seemed to be in deep thought. “hey spence, you coming?” he snapped out of it, and just nodded his head full of curls as he got up from the bed. you spent most of the morning fooling around and eating breakfast, knowing soon enough you had to clock in while spence got to stay back. the hours before that dreadful call at twelve were spent watching your favorite movie, midsommar. spencer found it weird but jesus you couldn't deny it was your favorite. eventually, that dreadful phone call came ringing in, and you knew your lazy morning with spencer was coming to an end. you hurried and got ready, not trying to spend any more time fooling around, more than you already had been. within thirty-five minutes you were ready, your hair in its naturally curly state and you made sure to make yourself look presentable. you were grabbing your bag on your way to the door when spencer stopped you, his tall figure now standing against yours, “you sure you don't want me to drive you?” he asked. you would've said yes if it wasn't for the fact that you had to work late, “no thank you spence, gotta work a little later today! but don't wait up for me, you deserve your rest!” and with a couple of couple kisses to his lips and cheek you were out the door with your cross body bookbag and a light coat.

spencer was left all alone in your apartment, not that he minded by any means, but jesus curiosity was eating him from the inside out. he wandered to your room a couple of times, sitting in the same position as you a couple of times. every time he decided to get up and walk right back to the couch, he couldn't disrespect you like that, he just couldn't. but one look wouldn't hurt, right? how much can a book really contain if he was thinking realistically, many people only write minor things in these sorts of things. so once again he was on the same floor, now facing the bedroom door. he knew what he was doing was wrong, but he needed to know. so he started reading, and at first, there wasn't anything major. it was dated all the way from when you were fifteen and there were multiple journals and letters in this box so this could take a while. almost every passage had an opinion about one of the letters which were all numbered. he feared that maybe they were suicide notes, but as he flipped each one over they had addresses on them, mostly the same one, but some changed depending on the year. he opened number one, reading it before reading the passage about it, these were all from your father. you had told spencer your father was very much in your life and that he always had been. but these letters date back years, years before these journals were even made.

he kept reading and reading and didn't stop, his eyes reading every page rapidly because you wrote a lot with those delicate hands of yours. once he reached letter ten he stopped, it was around eight-thirty now, and he knew that you'd be arriving in a little. so he put the letters and first journal back into the box. sliding it back under the bed just as you did hours before, he let himself sit on the bed. letting everything he read sink in, and there was a lot to let sink in. a part of him felt like he didn't know you, he didn't know any of this before he decided to snoop and maybe it was a good thing he snooped. he learned a lot, about your father being in prison for all of your life, your mother's abusive tendencies, the fucked up things about your siblings and even the worst parts of yourself. he let his head fall into his hands, dragging them down his face and sighing in a stressful manner.

he didn't know you at all, he knew this idealized version of yourself that you created, this fake person. he laid himself on the bed and turned off the bedside light, nothing but the moon letting light into the room, and he soon drifted to sleep. around three-thirty in the morning he felt the bed dip, he wondered if you had just gotten in or if you had been writing for hours. he cuddled against you, no matter what he still loved you, even if what he knew was fake. maybe one day you’d feel comfortable enough to share these secrets with him but for now, these secrets would be held within his mind, until they were bought to light one day.

[martyfive]

16/12/23

it’s not like i stopped having dreams at all. i was going to bed after 3AM for months waking up after six or seven hours of sleep and still dreaming every night, but i never remembered anything. some blurry pictures haunted me, but i was lucky enough to forget them in the morning. that’s why when i found myself in my old family house with blood on the walls and the floor i knew it was a dream, but a dream so vivid i was actually more bothered by the fact that it was the first story-like dream i had in months than that there was blood all over the place.

yeah, the blood. that house has seen enough of it, but never that much. even when the nose was broken. or when the whole set of red festive dishes was scattered around the kitchen. or after the accident. but we don’t talk about the accident. we don’t.

in a dream there was so much blood i couldn’t tell if it really was the house i grew up in. everything seemed to be the same, but things changed. maybe it was because of the renovation they did after i moved out. i’ve seen the photos. the room i used to sleep in looked horrible, like a piece of a hospital environment that for some reason also had my old stuff and an ugly grey carpet in it. it was now the room my mother used to go to read my embarrassing old diaries and cry in when she missed me most or when the threat of a broken nose was possible again. at least that didn’t change. the threat of a broken nose.

the presence of blood in a dream was somehow connected to the person who used to break noses and not take responsibility for the accidents we don’t have to talk about. and i didn’t know where he was. for some reason i wasn’t scared of him or to find him inside the house for the first time in my life. looking at the blood, i should have been. but i wasn’t.

i also knew what i had to do. the blood needed to be mopped.

someone else was there with me. i couldn’t see their face, but they felt like a friend. it could have been the devil himself, but i knew i had a problem more serious than the devil at that point.

i was walking around the house like it was just another day of my life mentally preparing for the massive cleaning session incoming when my phone rang. it was my mother.

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “he killed seven people.”

i said, “okay.”

she said, “you don’t know the horrible things he did to them. i’ve seen it all. his mother was there. you don’t even need to know about her teeth or her neck. i’ve seen it all.”

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “i’ll be home soon.”

home. i had to clean the tons of blood in a house i grew up in. my mother has called it “home”. i had another name for it. she wouldn’t like it. he was also here. i had to find him.

there was no power and all i had was the flashlight on my phone. i still had an unknown friend with me. the walls and the floor with blood on them, some cleaning stuff, a flashlight and a nameless friend. i took the phone and left to go deeper into the house in a search for a man in the centre of it. he wasn’t even a minotaur in a labyrinth. that was too much of a job title.

i found him right where he was expected to be. in a corner of the library, not easy to be spotted, right where he stored all his expensive tobacco assortment i used to steal from him when he wasn’t around. he looked calm. affectionate, almost gentle. like he was glad to see me. like he was sorry. like it was another quiet morning after the-broken-nose incident. forgive and forget. it’s gonna help you heal. no fucking way.

he was covered in blood.

i said, “what have you done?”

he said, “i deserve all your anger.”

but i had none. i was tired. i had a house to clean up.

i said, “i’m calling the cops.”

he said, “i’m a disappointment.”

i said, “we’ll see.”

the cops came. there were two of them, two young ladies, almost too cheerful for a situation. almost like it was all a stupid dream.

“the house is yours now,” he said before the cops took him away after i declined the laughable offer to put the handcuffs on him myself. “it’s all over. the house is yours. it’s always been.”

they left. i shut the door. it was dark. my faceless friend was waiting for me with the cleaning stuff.

“we should hire the cleaning company,” i said as i put the rubber yellow gloves on. “there’s no way i can do this on my own.”

“no,” the friend said. “you can. and you will. it’s your house now, haven’t you heard? you can sell it, get the money and everything. that’s gonna be awesome, right?”

maybe it was the devil himself after all. the blood was seeping through the cracks of the wooden floor.

“yeah,” i said.

then i woke up. the night was coming to an end. for a couple breath stealing minutes i was stuck in a house with blood on the walls. it was still there. i was still there. cleaning the blood. mopping the floor. waiting for my mother. wondering if she’s gonna lock herself in my old room turned into a hospital ward to cry over a man that broke her nose once or twice and a kid that used to have to calm her down while she was crying.

i suddenly heard the watch on my wrist ticking. it was a quarter to six. i was home.

25/12/23

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 19/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

CW: more explicit references to the last chapter (but just references)

Sorry updates are coming slower, y’all, real life work that pays money and stuff has been picking up lately and I need to buy hot pockets

Also featured in this chapter: more examples of soul marks sucking for people. I’m glad y’all seem to like my take on Arackniss tho.

•••

In 1932, Anthony disappeared.

That was, Arackniss supposed, not exactly the right way to put it. ‘He ran away from home’ might have been more accurate, but he was an adult at the time, and the phrase was so… juvenile. But, while none of the family knew where Anthony had gone, Arackniss himself had one leg up on the others: he was the one who saw Anthony off, gave him some money for the trip, and hoped (for his brother’s sake) that he never ended up in New York City again.

In 1933, Anthony returned, and their father threw him in a sanitarium for being queer. That was, after all, what people did in their day. Hell, it was the reason Anthony had run off in the first place, trying to save himself from their father’s old-world homophobic, Sicilian rage. And after Anthony got out, everyone talked about how much he had changed. How different he was. How much colder he had gotten.

Arackniss, however, knew different. Whatever turned Anthony icy and cruel didn’t just happen in the institution. It started wherever it was he had gone, when he tried to leave the family behind forever. Something he saw out there broke him, and Arackniss never learned what it was; they didn’t get the chance to talk before he was institutionalized, and when he tried asking Anthony about it after his release, his little brother didn’t remember.

It was the lobotomy, probably.

Arackniss figured that was the start of his protectiveness over Anthony, an aspect of brotherhood that had never existed between them before. Something had wounded his brother, something Anthony might never remember and Arackniss—Bernardino, in those days—would likely never understand, and he thought that since he couldn’t protect Anthony from the pain, he could at least shelter him better from new wounds. It wasn’t easy, since they still didn’t like each other, but Arackniss was able to do most of it behind Anthony’s back, particularly once their father kicked it and Arackniss inherited the family business. Besides, it made Maria happy, and both of them would have done anything for their sister, in their own ways.

Wherever she is now.

It’s funny. She could be worse than either of us on her bad days, but I’ve never found her here.

Anthony died before either of them, a gruesome and painful death that could as easily have been an accident as suicide, though the cops called it the latter. Arackniss had heard the name Angel Dust several times after arriving in Hell before he ever realized that was referring to his brother, and their reunion had been brief and awkward. Even though they never spoke, he knew how often Anthony came to that one restaurant he managed. And, even though Anthony pissed him off… they were family. They were brothers.

Arackniss wasn’t going to let anybody use his little brother as a pawn in their political game, no matter how firmly he had promised to stay out of things where the Vees were concerned.

VoxTek tower was huge and gaudy, in Arackniss’s opinion; it was too tall, it was too sleek, and it was too ostentatious to be anything but a status symbol three overlords were holding over the citizens of Pentagram City. There had been a time that it hadn’t existed, and after that, a time the tower had seemed so out of place. But the Vees were powerful, moreso than any coalition of overlords should have been, and soon the aesthetic of Pentagram City’s center had fallen in line with Vox’s penchant for sharp lines and curves and unholy marriage of Brutalist and Googie architecture.

Arackniss had wielded power in life, sure—after he’d taken over the family, he’d run it from the forties all the way into the sixties before he got shot nine fucking times—but he’d never been a bragging asshole about it. People who wore their wealth like a badge of honor were just asking to get shot.

The security system was thorough, but with the paths Arackniss planned to take, they were nothing he hadn’t seen before. The loading dock was open, sinners and Hellborn busy moving something off the back of a truck and into the bay, and with Arackniss’s size and coloring nobody even glanced his way as he skirted around a couple of security guards and into the shadows of the back warehouse. He jumped from the floor up into the rafters, running along the metal until he reached the wall, where he hopped down to land on an air duct. He made short work of the screws on the vent, then dipped in, pulling the vent into place behind him.

Usually, air vents weren’t actually something you could navigate buildings in like they did in movies, but sinners tended to plan things as though their own size was normal, and most sinners were an average of four feet taller than Arackniss was himself. Plus… well, he was a fucking spider, he could crawl almost better than he could run.

After that came the most tedious part of any infiltration. He knew the rough layout of the building, but keeping everything in mind while scaling up ventilation shafts was a bitch, and he had to find air vents near enough the floor directories for him to make out what the fuck floor he was even on.

Of course, the Vees kept their personal shit near the top of the building, probably in part because of people like him. The further up he got, the fewer people he heard in the hallways, until the building seemed as cold and deserted as it looked. It was eerie in a way very much unlike the environment he liked to foster; while both were detached and impersonal, this place was worse, because it was so… fake.

The sounds of voices drew his attention, and Arackniss slowed so he made no noise as he finished his approach. He stopped out of line of sight of the vent, not wanting to risk anyone glancing up his way, and stilled himself to listen.

“—what with his little fanclub fucking converging on our lobby and still no official statement from your boytoy, the parasocialites are going to start being a real pain in the arse quite quickly.”

Velvette.

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Vox. “He’s happy enough now that he’s got the little whore functionally incapacitated. He’s never been smart enough to consider long-term consequences.” Arackniss heard them shifting around, but he couldn’t tell what they were doing.

“…you think he’s gonna end up dead, don’t you?”

“…I’ve considered the possibility.” Vox’s voice was neutral in a way that Arackniss could only call ‘politic’, concealing everything under a layer of pragmatism. “When Alastor kills Angel, Val will lose his shit, and he doesn’t stand a chance against the Radio Demon.”

“So why are you doing this?” There was a pause, and when Velvette didn’t get an answer, she continued, “You have to see how fucking insane this is. There’s no way you don’t. It’s unnecessary. If the mark is such a big deal, cut him from his contract. VoxTek made him and we can make someone else just as easily.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Vox hesitated, and it sounded like he reconsidered whatever he was going to say. “It’s a little late to change tack now.”

“You boys and your fucking dick measuring contests.”

Arackniss smirked a little, but only a little. Vox seemed so positive that Alastor was going to destroy his little brother, but after that evening…

When he found Valentino’s office, it was empty. Carefully, he let himself out, refastening the vent covering and soundlessly dropping to the ground. It smelled terrible, probably residue of the smoke from those cigarettes Valentino was never seen without, but otherwise it seemed like the office of any other sleazelord. Arackniss knew where he would keep copies of soul contracts (if he had any), but from what he had gathered, the porn overlord was a fucking moron.

The desk, then.

It wasn’t even locked, but the interior of the drawers were so disorganized it was almost a built-in security measure all its own. He found a disturbing number of pictures of his brother, as well as several other performers over a spectrum of different gender presentations, loose receipts that probably meant his books were a disaster, pens that probably didn’t work, toys that he did not touch, and a wide variety of odds and ends, most of which didn’t belong in an office desk.

The top middle drawer, usually reserved for writing implements, was full of loose papers… and a false bottom. Arackniss shifted the papers back and slipped his fingers under the latch, carefully lifting it and retrieving two objects: a photograph, and a contract.

The photograph was much different from all of the others he had found. This one was old, gritty and washed out the way photography had been in the late 70s, and the only two people in it were a far less garishly dressed Valentino and Vox back when his head was a far bulkier shape. Neither of them looked particularly well-off, and the photograph was a selfie that Valentino had clearly taken with his longer arms. It must have been before they were overlords, Arackniss thought, because he didn’t actually hear Vox’s name as anything but a sinner pushing television in Hell until the early 80s.

They both looked happy.

Arackniss slipped the photograph back in place and unfolded the contract, fairly certain he knew what it would be, and he was… half right. It was actually two contracts folded up together, both copies of different transactions.

One, his mission target, was signed by Anthony and authorized to Valentino.

The other was signed by Valentino and authorized to the name ‘Vincent’.

Arackniss frowned, staring at it—did someone actually own Valentino’s soul? And was Vincent…?—but this wasn’t his problem right now, and he fucking hoped it never would be. He folded the second contract back up and slipped it into place, just as the door clicked.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, immediately ducking underneath the desk and slipping the drawer closed from below. The door swung open with a violent bang, and Arackniss heard a storm of manic muttering that sounded like it might have been Spanish as black velvet boots stomped over to the desk.

Valentino rounded the desk and stood in front of it, cursing quietly as he opened his desk drawers and began rooting through them in a way that sounded aimless. Arackniss held his breath, listening for any words he could recognize, but Spanish wasn’t as close to Italian as people who spoke neither one believed, and so he was only able to parse enough to determine that Valentino wasn’t feeling angry. Not exactly, anyway. Bitter? Or… maybe petty would be a better word.

“Perfecto,” Valentino muttered as he found whatever he was looking for. “Let’s see the Radio Demon ignore this.”

He sounded triumphant in his pettiness. That was not good. Arackniss didn’t know what kind of man Alastor was, but he didn’t have to in order to recognize that Alastor had a very short leash that had been frayed over what was likely a lifetime of building insanity and neuroses and was currently even more volatile than his past reputation would suggest. The moment Valentino left the office again, Arackniss slipped the contract into his jacket and jumped back up to the vent, opening it and slipping back in.

He just hoped that, if Valentino was intending to antagonize Alastor somehow, he could get to the hotel first.

•••

“Look, you really don’t need to do this, we’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay, really. Please, just stay here for now, until all of this blows over.”

Blitzø sighed, rubbing his forehead, before he looked back at Millie, Moxxie, and Loona. “What do you think?” he asked them, trying very hard to ignore the pleading look Charlie was giving to all of them.

“I actually think it might be a good idea, sir,” Moxxie said. “If the Vees are actually determined to get rid of us, we shouldn’t make it easy for them to find us.”

“It’ll only be for a bit, right?” Millie added. “Me an’ Moxxie’ll take you up on it at least, Princess.”

Loona shifted. “…I don’t want to go back through Pentagram City right now,” she muttered.

Blitzø held up his hand. “Okay. Okay, fine.” He turned back to Charlie. “Guess we’ll be hanging out for a while. Don’t worry, we’ll do our best not to break anything.”

Charlie shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. Besides, uh, you might have noticed… we aren’t exactly bursting at the seams with guests!” Her voice was bright, but Blitzø knew an emotional coverup when he heard one.

“Well, we’re irredeemable, but we’ll do our best to look like a crowd.”

Charlie took them up to the floor where, apparently, everyone had their rooms. She showed Millie and Moxxie to one (“You’ll be right across the hall from Husk, but I’m not positive he ever spends much time in there, so don’t worry about bothering him.”), Loona to a second (“Niffty is right next to you if you need anything, and just ignore— yeah, that noise right there, it’s apparently nothing to worry about!”), and finally, Blitzø to a third. It was nice enough for a fairly standard room, and Blitzø couldn’t help thinking that even unmodified it was almost as big as his and Loona’s apartment. He took a couple of steps in, looking around as he did so.

He could feel Charlie watching him with eager apprehension. “Well?” she asked finally.

Blitzø turned his head, raising an eyebrow at her. “Well?” he repeated back at her.

“What do you think?”

Tilting his head, Blitzø turned to face her, his hand on his cocked hip. “Why do you care so much what we think?”

Charlie looked like she was at a loss for a moment. “…because… I… why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we’re not your target demographic,” Blitzø said, frowning. “Because you’re letting us crash for free. Because we don’t write for some fucking travel magazine or something. Take your pick.”

“Oh.” Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “…well… to tell you the truth, you’re the first people from any other Ring who’s seen the hotel,” she said. “I know news circulated about it, and I know it was…”

She seemed to be struggling with phrasing, so Blitzø supplied, “A laughingstock?”

“…yeah,” Charlie said on a sigh. “And you— I mean, you know, you own a business, and you’re…”

“…the lowest form of Hell society?” Blitzø asked with a sarcastic smile.

Charlie frowned at him. “I didn’t say that, stop finishing my sentences in the rudest way possible.”

Blitzø shrugged at her. “No, you’re right. An imp owning a business of any kind is… weird, I guess. But I figured, fuck it, if my old man could run a circus, I could run a tiny assassination agency.”

She nodded. “Did people tell you it was… a dumb idea?”

“Among other things.” Blitzø tilted his head at her, just a little. “I’m not sure what, exactly, it is you wanna hear out of me.”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, sounding exasperated with the universe as a whole. “That it… that it’s a nice hotel, I guess. That it’s not a waste of time. That it’s not… stupid.”

Blitzø smirked. “But it is,” he said. Charlie blinked, clearly surprised that he would say that to her face, so he took advantage of her silence to continue. “Of course it’s stupid. You looked at a long-standing murder ritual that the angels clearly fucking love, and decided that the answer was to build a voluntary rehab center for the worst parts of humanity to do the work on their souls that they couldn’t be bothered to do while alive on the off chance that maybe, somehow, that would get them into Heaven.”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged slightly. “It sounds awful when you put it that way.”

“But that’s what it is,” Blitzø countered. “And you knew it was stupid when you first started. I know you did, you’re not an idiot. But you did it anyway. Why?”

“Because…” Charlie threw her hands out. “I don’t know, because it was important to me?”

“Right.” Blitzø smiled at her, just a little, and Charlie lowered her hands to look at him again. “Everybody does stupid shit because the reasons are important to them. You just happened to have the drive to do something huge and stupid for a cause that you don’t even have any proof works. And y’know, good for you, most people would look at this plan of yours, laugh at it, and give it up. But you didn’t, and because you didn’t, you stopped an extermination, which has never happened before.”

Charlie’s expression had been softening as he spoke, and at that, she smiled. “…yeah. Yeah, we did, didn’t we?”

He snorted under his breath, smirking. “So, there you go. So what if it’s stupid. So what if the rest of Hell thinks you’re… I dunno, naive or childish or out of touch for doing it. Why should you give a fuck what they think? Even if redemption isn’t a thing, at least part of your hotel works. You wanted to bring people together, and you did. You wanted to protect people from the extermination, and you did. What the fuck have your naysayers done except bitch about other people’s ideas? Mammon’s never had a single idea that wasn’t utter fucking trash, and he’s had success with almost every single one of them.”

Charlie actually giggled, folding her arms. “I didn’t know you were a motivational speaker.”

“What? Oh, fuck that,” Blitzø said with a laugh. “I’m the absolute picture of demotivation. But you’re pretty okay, comparatively, and I’d rather watch them fume at your success than contribute to your failure because the first one is funnier.”

He didn’t like the way her lip quirked into an amused smirk. “Uh-huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you were being nice to me.”

“Stop that,” Blitzø said, pointing at her. “Or I will start being rude to you again.”

She shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back. “I live in a building with the Radio Demon, I’m not worried about you.”

He narrowed his eyes, dropping his hand to hang at his side. “…if I wasn’t pretty sure your girlfriend is faster than me, I’d call you a bitch.” Her laugh was startled and maybe a little scandalized, but it was a laugh. He sighed. “Well, at least you’re getting into the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ groove easily enough.”

“Oi! Blitzø!” a voice called from somewhere else in the hotel. That Cherri Bomb chick, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Get your ass down here!”

Blitzø groaned, letting his head fall backwards “I should ask Millie if this is what being married feels like,” he muttered before waving his hand at Charlie a little as he passed her. “It’s probably the nicest hotel I’ve seen in Hell, and I grew up in Greed. Do with that what you will.”

Charlie didn’t follow immediately, and Blitzø didn’t wait for her, heading back down the hallway and vaulting over the balcony railing down to the ground floor. “You bellowed?” he asked as he approached Cherri Bomb, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, bitch, I got something for you,” she answered with a sharp grin. It was only then that he realized she wasn’t alone; there was a very small sinner with her, a guy who seemed to be some kinda gray spider-like… something. He was crouching on the arm of the couch, which barely put him at Blitzø’s eye level, and he was giving him a look that was obviously daring him to be sarcastic.

Blitzø immediately had six comments he could make. Five of them were funny and one of them wouldn’t end with him getting shot, so he went with that one, because it was the middle of the night and his reflexes weren’t quite up to ‘avoiding death at the hands of an unknown sinner’ at the moment. “Your contact?” he asked Cherri Bomb.

“Arackniss,” she said. “And this is Blitzø.”

“Here,” the sinner said in lieu of any greeting, offering a folded contract out to Blitzø. “Don’t fuckin’ lose it, just get him outta this and do it fast.”

His accent sounds a lot like— “Ohhh,” Blitzø said as he took the contract, his eyes wide with understanding. “Yeah, I got you.”

Arackniss didn’t ask what his revelation was, and it really looked like he didn’t care. “Is Alastor here?”

Blitzø and Cherri Bomb exchanged looks. “…uh, maybe?” Blitzø asked.

“Don’t look at me,” Cherri Bomb said immediately, holding her hands up. “Bitch made me walk back on my own, I don’t have a clue where he went.”

“Keep an eye on him, as much as you can,” Arackniss said. “That Valentino bastard’s apparently planning something. He ain’t smart, but you don’t gotta be smart to be effective.”

Cherri Bomb sighed. “I’ll tell Niffty—”

“Tell me what?”

The explosive sinner jumped a little. “Shit, Niffty, where did you come from?!”

“Japan,” Niffty said with a wide grin, staring up at Cherri Bomb. “You’ll tell me what?”

“Arackniss here says someone needs to keep an eye on Alastor,” Cherri Bomb said.

Niffty tilted her head, then looked up at where Arackniss was still crouched on the arm of the couch. Her eye went incredibly wide, and Blitzø could have sworn it started glittering. “Ohhhh, you’re a bad boy…!”

Arackniss frowned at her, leaning back just a little. “…the fuck…?”

“Noooo,” Cherri Bomb said, reaching down to take Niffty by the shoulders and start ushering her out of the room. “No bad boys for you tonight. You go keep an eye on Radiohead and make sure he stays put, okay?”

“Okay~” Niffty said in a somewhat dreamy voice, still looking back at Arackniss as she was pushed several feet. She then giggled, scampering off to go find Alastor.

“Right,” Blitzø said. “Before this gets weirder, I’m gonna get going with this. He… might still be awake,” he said to himself, before shrugging. “Welp, he’s about to be.”

He was halfway to the door when he heard a voice. “Blitzø. Hold on.” He stopped and turned just as Vaggie approached him. “I’m coming with you.”

Blitzø frowned at her. “What— why? I can handle this, I’ve been there like a thousand times at this point.”

“You’re still a target for the Vees,” Vaggie said, crossing her arms as she stared down at him. “And, besides, I want to make sure you get there with the contract and get back with the info.”

Blitzø smirked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“I’d say not as far as I can throw you, but you’re small.” As Blitzø’s expression turned into a frown, it was Vaggie’s turn to smirk. “You don’t get a choice, pendejo. Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Oh, no you are not.” Blitzø glared at her before huffing. “Fine. But I’m doing the talking when we get there.”

“Fine with me. So, you said you’re going to talk to Prince Stolas?”

“Yep,” Blitzø said, turning towards the doors. “This is gonna be awkward. So just remember that you decided to tag along,” he added, heading outside before she could respond.

•••

Normally, Alastor was excruciatingly patient. He almost never slept, he enjoyed watching plans unfold slowly over a long period of time, many of his pastimes were things that couldn’t be done quickly… even in life, Alastor had never really been one to be impatient.

That, he had decided, was one of the effects of having Angel Dust so present in his life now: he had only been back in the hotel for a few hours, and he was already getting agitated at the lack of news from Arackniss. He had fixed his desk and picked up its scattered contents—he certainly was throwing things quite a bit recently! How uncharacteristic of him!—in a matter of half an hour, which had left him with nothing else to do but wait. Normally, he would read, or listen to music, or even go out and eviscerate some unfortunate who decided to aggravate him in one way or another, but all he was doing was just… sitting.

Upon deep reflection of the past few days, Alastor supposed he felt responsible for what had happened. It wasn’t that he believed the Vees were holding Angel hostage now because he had neglected to break the bond; no, he was certain Vox had something else up his precisely starched and pressed little sleeve, and so too was he certain that Angel would be in a similar predicament to his current situation regardless of Alastor’s own actions. But perhaps, had he not left Rosie’s so rashly…

Alastor sighed and rubbed his forehead, his smile straining at the corners. There was little point in dwelling, and he knew that, but he couldn’t help the alien feeling that was broiling up in his gut and gnawing at him with a hot ferocity so unlike the hunger that perpetually clawed at his insides.

Am I feeling guilty?

But that was ludicrous. Alastor had felt regret in his time, certainly, but guilt? No. Guilt implied shame. Guilt implied his actions had been such grievous mistakes that he felt it necessary to assume fault for someone else’s misfortune. Alastor didn’t feel guilt, so why would this be different?

“Do you love him?”

The memory of the question made him twitch. In truth—and this was something he hadn’t wanted to divulge to anyone, let alone Arackniss—he wasn’t at all certain what he felt about Angel Dust. Over the past month, he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on anything except the fact that they needed to bond, and the fact that he had been granted the opportunity to satisfy a number of intellectual curiosities that, it turned out, hadn’t been wholly unpleasant.

Don’t talk yourself in circles. You liked it.

The thought of touching anyone else still stirred even less than disinterest in him, but Angel’s presence was oddly soothing, in many ways. It was surprising, because Angel himself was so fucking grating when he wanted to be, and while he hadn’t had any interest in repeating their intercourse as yet, he found it pleasant when Angel touched his hand or leaned on his arm.

So what did he feel, when it came to Angel Dust? He liked him, certainly, which had come as quite the surprise. Upon their first meeting, Alastor had written Angel off; a porn star (boring) who worked for VoxTek (irritating) and kept propositioning him (absolutely not) was definitely not his sort of person, he thought, and he had resolved to be cordial and little else. He couldn’t even put his finger on when it was that he started liking the little spider, mostly because he couldn’t remember a time he had ever actually found his attitude that off-putting. Familiar, perhaps, but… well, he couldn’t begin to imagine why.

He found Angel Dust to be more than just likeable, of course. For example, he was infinitely aggravating: while he did understand a firm ‘no’ when he heard one, anything less than that seemed to be more of a challenge than an instruction or a warning to be heeded. He was also supremely confounding, and Alastor still couldn’t understand why Angel did half of the things that he did. He didn’t think Angel understood why he did them.

Alastor wasn’t a stranger to impulse, of course, and he had been known to act rashly at times. Angel, however, seemed predisposed to simply follow whatever whim made its way into his fluffy little head, which made him unpredictable and entirely illogical. He had never met anyone who answered the question ‘why are you doing that’ with ‘I dunno’ with such frequency, and never seemed bothered that he rarely knew why he did the things he did. Even Niffty tended to give a reason, even if that reason was out of left field.

But all of that just made Alastor wonder why he had even bothered. Normally, someone frustrating and confounding would be someone he would strive to avoid whenever possible, but Angel… Alastor laughed under his breath, putting his face in one hand. His first thought had been the mark again, but that didn’t explain why he had been speaking to Angel with increased frequency for several weeks before the damn kitchen incident. The mark, completely dormant at the time, had no hand in that, and Alastor wouldn’t allow fate to be the reason for his change of perspective.

No. That had been his own doing… and, in all likelihood, Angel Dust’s. What the spider had done, Alastor couldn’t begin to guess, but he did know that it wasn’t intentional. If it was, it never would have worked.

A soft tap against the glass of his only window startled him, and Alastor got to his feet, crossing to it and unlocking it. He wasn’t sure if he expected Arackniss or not, but when he opened it, there was no one there, simply a cassette lying on his windowsill. Raising an eyebrow, Alastor delicately lifted it between two claws, turning it back and forth curiously; it was unlabeled, but it didn’t appear to be… cursed, or anything of the sort. Just an audio cassette.

Shutting his window again, Alastor went to his desk and conjured up a cassette player, which landed on the wood with a hollow plastic clatter. Magnetic tape wasn’t the worst evolution in audio technology, he supposed, and it was absolutely easier to record on than wax cylinders, so it certainly had its place in the oeuvre of music as a whole.

Alastor slipped the cassette into the player and snapped it shut. It was already rewound, so he hit play, thumbing the volume control as it started up.

“Alright, baby, now come show me how much you missed me.”

Instantly, Alastor’s lip curled in distaste. Valentino? Why the fuck did he have a cassette recording of Valentino? He had half a mind to stop it immediately, but the next voice stilled him.

“Anythin’ for you, Daddy.”

“Angel,” Alastor muttered, his eyes now locked on the player in his hand. He could hear sounds that he wasn’t able to parse, shifting fabric and soft thumps, but it was followed by a sound he was growing to know alarmingly well: the wet, soft noise that two pairs of lips made when they met and then separated.

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Angel,” Valentino purred.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I wanna be a good boy. I’ll do anythin’ to make it up to you.”

“Anything?”

“Anythin’ at all.”

Alastor clenched his fist around the player as he heard sounds that he knew from the films of Angel’s he had seen, wet smacking and open-mouthed exhaling and the occasional choked gag, all underscored by Valentino’s satisfied, low groaning. Alastor hesitated, then pressed fast forward. When he hit play again, he heard the repetitive smack of skin colliding with skin, the occasional shift of furniture against a tile floor, and Angel’s voice, panting and crying out in that horrifically fake performance voice that sounded nothing, nothing, like Angel did when he was actually enjoying himself.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, Val, come on, Daddy, do it, harder, please Val, god, please, fuck m—!”

The cassette player cut off with a high screech as Alastor crushed it in his fist, and the tape along with it. The plastic and metal mechanisms fell to the floor, where they began smoldering, then burst into flickering green flame.

Perhaps he was overdue for a little bout of rash behavior.

•••

“Make me a drink.”

“You’re pleasant today.”

“Fuck you,” Cherri said, turning away on the bar stool and looking out over the lobby. She could practically hear Husk roll his eyes behind her, but the clatter of bottles and ice followed as he obliged her demand anyway. Cherri bit down on the side of her tongue, resisting the urge to turn around.

“How long d’you think it’ll take?” Husk asked.

Cherri couldn’t tell if he was actually interested. “Blitzø?” she asked. “Who fuckin’ knows. I don’t know anything about the Goetia or how long they take to do anything.”

“Can’t believe we’re dragging Hellborn nobility into this.”

“Hmn.” Husk set a glass down at her elbow, and Cherri turned just enough to see that he had his hand over it, preventing her from taking it. She narrowed her eye and turned further, glaring at him. “What?”

“Everyone is already on edge,” Husk said. “You don’t have to make things worse.”

“Oh, fuck off, Husk,” Cherri snapped, turning around fully and slamming one fist on the bar top. He didn’t even flinch. “You were the one who called me six fucking times in a half hour to get dirt on Angie months after basically telling me you never wanted to see me again.”

Husk’s expression shifted, just a little. “That wasn’t what I said.”

“It was clearly what you meant.”

He narrowed his own eyes at her. “Don’t tell me what my own goddamn words meant, Cherri. You’re not a mind reader. And you were the one who decided to leave the hotel.”

“You expected me to stay after that?” Cherri asked, incredulous. “After we— after it was— you were the one who said to act like it didn’t happen!”

Husk actually rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again,” he muttered.

Cherri tapped the countertop. “You brought it up, buddy,” she said. “You said that you wanted to just ignore it. You said you didn’t want it. You said you had absolutely zero interest in me and you never would.”

“Do you have to be so fucking unreasonable about everything?” Husk asked. “You were the one who was furious when it happened. And then you were furious when it didn’t lead to anything. Is there anything in this goddamn miserable existence that doesn’t make you mad?”

“You didn’t!” Cherri said, gesturing at him. “At least, not until you became such an asshole about… it! I can handle rejection and I don’t give a shit about soul marks or what the fuck ever, but there’s a big difference between you not being interested and you acting like I’m beneath you!”

Husk blinked. “…what?”

“I get it, I’m not good enough for you,” Cherri snapped. “You made that very clear. But you don’t get to dictate how I react.”

“…the fuck are you talking about?” Husk asked, his eyes narrowing again. “You didn’t want to be, what was the phrase, stuck with a drunken, washed-up, failed children’s entertainer?”

“You called me a bitch!”

“You are a bitch!”

“You’re a bitch!”

“Um…”

Cherri realized that she was on her feet, and both she and Husk were leaning forward on the bar top as they shouted at each other (or as close to shouting as Husk ever got). They both snapped their heads to the side and saw Niffty looking up at them, blinking her single wide and curious eye.

Cherri threw herself back onto her stool with a huff while Husk turned away. “What is it, Niff?” he asked, his voice infuriatingly controlled again.

“It, um. Cherri told me to look after Alastor.”

Cherri frowned at her. “Yeah. So why are you here?”

Niffty gestured helplessly. “Well… I can’t,” she said. “Alastor’s gone.”

•••

[holylulusworld]

Entitled rich people

Summary: Your boyfriend and his family are the worst.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warning: snobbish rich people, cocky Bucky, running away with a stranger trope, a break-up

Your boyfriend and his family are the worst. Entitled rich people at their best. 

One moment they greet you sweetly, and the next they ask about your father’s business, and if the rumors are true.

To hell with rumors. Your father’s business was in trouble for a while, but he’s a smart and eloquent man.

He mastered the challenge and saved his company. But this doesn’t matter to people like Linda Drysdale.

If she finds a weak spot, she’ll hit you hard, and without mercy. 

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to visit us with Ransom while your father’s business is in trouble. I thought you’d prefer helping your father,” Linda coos, her eyes set on you next to your boyfriend. 

“Business is fine,” you are your mother’s daughter, and never back down. Especially not in front of Linda Drysdale. “Sometimes the sea gets a little rougher, you know.” You flash her a perfect faked smile. “Luckily my father is a very good sailor and knows how to run his business. Unlike other people.” 

You dip your head to glance at Joni and her daughter. Two perfect examples of people who know how to live off the money of someone else. In their case, Harlan Thrombey. The only bearable member of this fucked up family.

“Sure, sure,” she waves your words off as if you are only an insect to her she can squish with her boot. “Your father knows best.” Linda sneers. “I hope he can save his business.”

“I think he already did.” You dip your head to look the man’s way. “Or so I heard. It was all over the news. Something about a fusion, and Miracle Inc. doing better than before.”

“Who asked you?” Linda’s nostrils flare, and she glares at the man daring to talk without her allowance. “I hired you for the garden, not to interrupt my conversation. People these days.”

“Right, people these days,” the cocky man mirrors her attitude. You chuckle. This guy doesn’t bow in front of Linda Drysdale, and it’s refreshing. “And you didn’t hire me for the garden.”

He steps closer, giving you a once-over while passing you by. He’s wearing black jeans, a matching black leather jacket and black boots. He looks like a bad boy, but his soft blue eyes tell you there is so much you don’t know about him…yet.

You glance in his way, waiting for him to say more. His voice is deep and rough. Something you like about a man.

“What? Of course, I hired you to take care of the garden. I remember our conversation,” she argues, but the stranger won’t have it.

“Lady, you didn’t hire me,” he points his index finger at her. “Your son,” the stranger now jerks his head toward Ransom standing next to you. Your boyfriend stiffens, and he shifts from one foot to the other, “came to my store, bought a bike, and never paid for it. I’m here to get either my money or the bike back.”

“You bought a bike like some vulture?” A gasp escapes Linda’s mouth. She stares at her son, shell-shocked at the news. “Y/N! Why didn’t you stop him? I knew you were trouble when Ransom brought you here for the first time. Before he met you, Ransom would’ve never done such a thing.”

“I’m not his mommy,” you huff, frustrated. “I have better things to do than watching your son’s every step. Unlike him, I got a job.”

“Because your daddy is bankrupt,” Ransom huffs, and pouts. He glares down at you, making sure you know your relationship just ended.

“No. Because my parents raised me right. They gave me roots, but freedom. I work because I want to make my own money, and not live off my trust fund. Which,” you grit your teeth, “by the way is way bigger than yours.”

“Back to the bike,” the stranger interrupts your break-up scene with Ransom. “Money, or my bike. Now!”

“I’ll call the cops. This is a home invasion,” Linda points at the stranger. “You better leave my house.”

“You better teach your son how to pay for the shit he buys,” the man grins. “Don’t you worry. I know where he parked my bike. The pretty boy fell off the bike the first time he tried to get on it.” The man chuckles now. 

“I want you to leave. Now.” Linda repeats. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Do it,” the man says. “We will see if you get away with stealing my bike.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow. “I bet all your nice little friends would love to hear that your son is a thief.”

“No one will believe the likes of you,” she sneers and looks him up and down. “I’ll call my lawyer.”

“How about you call your lawyer, and I'll call mine,” he smirks. “If you want the public to know the Thrombey’s cannot pay their bills any longer.” 

You sigh deeply. “As much as I enjoyed this get-together, I’ll go home now. Ransom, lose my number.” The stranger looks at you when you throw Ransom an angry look. “Never call me again. I’m tired of being your arm candy, and to bear your family.”

“If you need a ride, I can help you out.” The man jerks his head toward the door. “It’d be my pleasure to offer my help to a lady in need.”

“Y/N,” you take his offered hand.

“James,” he says, eyes dropping to your hand in his. “You can call me Bucky, though.”

Bucky promised to drive you home, but he had to stop at this bike shop first. One of his partners called him on his way out of Harlan’s house.

“Y/N, this is Steve,” Bucky points at his friend. “He’s my partner and best friend.”

“Hey, what about me? I got the bike back!” Another man holds out his hand. “Name’s Brock, sweetness.”

“I hope you got it back in one piece,” Bucky jokes. “And no flirting with the lady.” He suddenly wraps his arm around your shoulders. “This one is mine…”

Tags in reblog.