#Let him out of the basement Square

[hazelgatoya]

Paywall Prome

Free him

#champions of the continent #octopath traveler #Prome #Let him out of the basement Square #Bad business

[lovebugism]

I positively adore steeb and shy!reader 🥹 can I please request steve comforting shy!reader after her first experience with the upside down? he just vows to take care of her?

ty for requesting!! — steve takes care of you when you won't let anyone touch you after fighting vecna (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, friends in love, cw for mentions of bruises/injuries, 0.9k)

Hawkins Memorial Hospital smells overwhelmingly of bleach and very faintly of copper. You think the last bit might just be you, though. The scent of metallic blood and alternate-dimension muck hasn’t quite left you — even though you’ve scrubbed yourself raw in the shower, three times over.

You sit in Max’s vacant room while she’s out for surgery. Everyone else is either sleeping off the grief or getting themselves checked out. You can’t do either — too plagued by nightmares and too frightened at what the doctors might find if they look at you too close.

Steve finds you in the dim room, lit only by natural sunlight, standing in front of the small square mirror against the wall. You get lost in the splotchy bruises on your face until he knocks gently on the cracked open door. 

“Hey…” he greets, gently to keep from startling you.

You swallow down the fleeting panic. “Oh. Hi.”

“I, uh, I brought you some ice,” he tells you and steps further into the room, waving a plastic bag of chipped ice in his hand. “I saw you flinch when you wrapped up Dustin’s ankle. I figured your shoulder was bothering you…”

He’s visibly shy, but you’re impossibly shier. The deafening quiet and the proximity of your bodies are equally suffocating. You cower beneath the weight of it, wringing your clammy, cut-up hands together. “I’m— I’m fine. Thanks…”

Steve flashes you a wavering smile, lopsided and perfectly pink. He forces a laugh through an aching chest because you haven’t talked about what happened since you got back. He figured it was normal at first — that you were still grappling with the whole fighting monsters thing, but you haven’t let anyone touch you in days. The doctors have been begging to look you over since you got here.

“I just… I wanna help,” he confesses.

A pleading look swims in the deep honey of his eyes. It becomes impossible to turn him down. You’d have an easier time fighting Vecna, you think.

You swallow hard. “It’s… It’s my back,” you shrug, then grimace when the movement makes you ache.

You’d fallen through the decrepit floor of the Creel house and landed hard in the basement. The vines slithering there broke your fall. For the most part, anyway. The damn things would have swallowed you whole if Steve hadn’t been brave enough to jump in after you. 

“Can I see?” he wonders.

You hesitate for a moment. “I haven’t really— looked at it yet,” you murmur with a pained look twisting your features. You turn around when Steve approaches you. You feel his warm fingers along your back, knuckles skimming over your skin as he lifts your shirt with a slow and gentle touch — giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted.

When you don’t, he raises the fabric to the middle of your spine. The entire canvas of your back is darkened with a hardly healing bruise. The sight of it makes him grimace. “Jeez…” he mumbles before he means to.

Your brows pinch. “Is it bad?”

“We’re gonna need a lot more ice,” he answers with a forced laugh.

You giggle at his half-joke. The pretty sound makes him smile.

“You should probably see a doctor—”

“No,” you interject with a firm shake of your head, sterner than he’s ever seen you.

“But it’s— It’s kinda gnarly—”

“I’m fine,” you insist, despite the bruises darkening your skin. You turn back around to face him and avert your gaze at the pitiful look he gives you. You cross your arms over your chest and bite back a wince. “I’m okay, Steve. There’s other people to worry about right now.”

Max, for one. And all the rest of the kids for another. And the rest of the town who lost something in the earthquakes. You got off pretty lucky, all things considered — just a couple of bruises. And a cut or two. And some pretty gnarly nightmares. But that’s it.

Steve’s lip quirks in a sympathetic smile. “Here. C’mon. Sit down.”

He urges you to the made-up hospital bed with a hand hovering over your lower back. Your perch on the side of it, one leg curled beneath you, as Steve slides in behind you. He raises the hem of your shirt and presses the icepack against your shoulder blade, where the bruises seem darkest. His touch is gentle and feather-light, almost comically so. The bag of ice just barely grazes you.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah… Thanks.”

His hand grows heavier when his touch becomes more confident. The stinging of the cold soothes the deep ache in your shoulder.

“No problem,” he says before swallowing down the nerves crawling up his throat. “I’m always here, you know? If you ever need anything.”

You exhale a sharp laugh through your nose. “I feel like you have better things to do than take care of me,” you murmur, wringing your hands into a knot in your lap.

“Well, I don’t.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What?” he scoffs. “That I’d rather dote on you than do anything else?”

“Yeah,” you laugh and shoot him a playful look over your shoulder. You smile when you find him already grinning at you.

“Well, believe it, alright? ‘Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Am I?”

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p.

“We fought monsters together, and now we’re bonded for life?”

“Exactly.”

You flash him another glance, eyes glittering as you bite back a beaming grin. “Sounds miserable,” you tease.

Steve nods with a crooked smile. “Absolutely horrible.” 

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[ultralightpoe]

Chaos - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: terribly written but I'm clearing out my drafts

Warning: mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2340

Part One Here

Enjoy!

“What the hell happened?” Cho snaps, moving to the gurney being pushed in and surveying the amount of blood that was spilling. “Back up! I need room, someone page Stark immediately!”

The lights of the tower flicker under the storm, and Steve watches as Cho’s team wheels the gurney away quickly, his hand shaking heavily. Panic claws at his throat as the scene from earlier unfolds in his mind once more, turning slowly to the redhead beside him. 

“Steve-” She starts before he shakes his head. 

“Nat, this is not a conversation you want to have with me right now.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose before he realizes it’s coated in blood and pulls it back sharply. “I need to shower.”

He storms off, shoulders squared as he thinks about all the reports he is about to fill out. 

- 

“We won’t have much time, in and out as fast as we can. Everyone has their tasks?” Steve asks, making sure everyone nods back to him before making eye contact with you. “Y/n, I know this will be your first mission-”

“We should go before the storm gets any worse.” You interrupt, fixing your headset and moving to the bay of the quinjet, grabbing your bag before being the first to leave the ship and rushing to leave them behind. 

“Slow down Y/n.” You hear Bucky warn in your earpiece, and normally you would turn around to wait for him. But he wasn’t your partner on the mission today, so you didn’t turn and kept the same pace. They could catch up if they wanted. 

Bucky stops in his tracks when he sees you march off, not bothering to turn to him, his heart thundering in his chest. Normally you would slow down for him, normally he would have your back during missions. 

It was a slow realization that you would be alone. 

“Maybe we should-” He starts, feeling like a fool as Sam turns to look. 

“We gotta go, come on man.” He mumbles, watching as Nat takes lead. 

It was going to be a simple mission, in and out, Bucky reminds himself. Taking a deep breath before following the rest. 

- 

“We need a report,” Tony sighs, tracing through the footage of the mission, eyes widening at the fight. “I’ve never….”

“Tony, I’ve never seen it before. And it’s my fault.” Nat sighs, rubbing her hand across her face. “I got involved.”

“How?”

“I got in Bucky’s head a bit. I was just worried-”

“Worried about what?”  

“About Bucky and- I just remember coming out of the red room and being so attached to Clint. I had no family, no story, no morals. I was just pain. I was in pain myself and I inflicted pain onto others.”

“You went through something terrible-”

“THEY WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TERRIBLE! Bucky went through 70 years of it and the experiments they ran on Y/n….. I just wanted them to safe. I didn’t want them to get hurt.” She sighs, picking at her hair. “I love them both and I just wanted them to take a break. Maybe they would see how much they needed each other, and they would finally admit it to each other.”

“You should know by now that Barnes never thinks the way we do.”

“He thinks he is going to ruin everything he touches.”

“I know someone like that.” Clint interrupts from the door, giving Nat a small smirk. “Let’s just take a night to rest, Cho will update us if need be.”

- 

It had turned into a mess too fast, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The rain covered most of your vision as the walls of the compound seemed to be closing in quickly, the others screaming over the intercoms as they had been ambushed. 

You had been tasked to get the files from the lower levels of the compound, and you had planned to get it done quickly. You had not planned, however, to be locked in the basement as it began flooding. 

“GUYS!” You should, tears springing from your eyes as you cling to the door, the water reaching your ankles at the top of the stairs. 

“They blew up the dam-” Sams voice cuts through, half static half radio. “Steve, to your right-”

Gunshots could be heard in the background, Natasha cursing and you truly did not think they could hear you at all anymore. “Shit.” 

Instead of clinging to the door you turn to survey another way out of the room, eyes scanning over every inch of space to find your exit. The intercom in your hear rumbles with static before your name breaks through, Bucky’s voice sounding panicked. The next thing you know the intercoms have a sharp ringing through them that makes you gasp out and tear it from your ear quickly, dropping it in the water and diving in to find a way out. 

- 

Bucky curses as he tears the intercom from his ear, dodging a bullet quickly and diving behind a wall as Nat stays covered by her own, making eye contact for a second as she tears her own comns out.

First the heavy explosion that shook them down, the dam breaking and water beginning to flood, Hydra soldiers attacking them and now their comns were down. Worst of all Bucky could not find you. 

Heart thundering through his ribs as he bites at his tongue to keep from grunting in pain when he realizes he had been shot, but right now that doesn't matter. He had to find you. 

“I have to find Y/n!” He shouts, watching Nat nod before he dashes to the exit that you were supposed to use. Just as he reaches the metal door something loosens in his chest, knowing you would were near and he could find you. He would never let you go he swore to god. 

He pulls the door, desperate to get to you, only to find it sealed shut. So his metal hand takes charge, bending into the metal as he grunts out, doing his best to get it off. A shout of pain fills the air as Sam comes into view, moving to help Bucky tear the door off. 

They make eye contact for a moment, the rain beating down on them before a blast of light blows them to the side, heat covering their bodies as they ram into the wall. 

Bucky’s head slams into brick, he hears Steve shout and Sam scream out in pain before it all goes blank. 

He would never see the chaos erupt. 

- 

Steve is up the second the sun filters through the curtains, happy to finally get to leave his room and check on his friends' health. 

Nat is already waiting for him in the front hall of the med bay, a nervous look on her face as Steve walks past her to speak with Cho.”Any update?”

“He’s breathing.” She sighs. “And he was so lucky Y/n was there.”

- 

You could hear the explosion from under the water, and in a panic you swam back up, only to find that the water had flooded to the roof and your face was pressed to the ceiling to catch your breath. 

Taking a moment to breathe as you hear Sam scream in pain, there was a pain in yoru chest that you couldn’t explain. It felt like a panic attack but worse, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t stop crying. 

“PLEASE!” You scream, hands pressing to the ceiling as the water gets worse. 

“Stop crying!” A voice breaks out, and you whip your head to find your old boss, the man that had thrown you into your first cell. The man that had ruined you. 

He was standing in the center of the room, and you had to blink for a moment to realize that there was no water, and you were completely dry.

“W-what?”

“Stand up!” You listen to him immediately, just as you used to, the tears still streaming down your face as you look around the room. It was different now, when you had come in it had looked like a simple office, now it was your cell. 

Or had it always been your cell?

Who was screaming?

“I SAID STAND UP!” Doctor Cornell shouts, stomping forward to drag you up himself, a slap tearing across your face as you cry out. 

“Where’s Bucky?” You gasp, the pain in your cheek fading away quickly. “I want to find Bucky.”

“You think he wants you?” Cornell laughs bitterly. “No one wants you, I’ve made you a fucking freak.”

“I want b-” Before you can finish your sentence you remember Bucky ignoring you, avoiding you….. And then you realize why. Cornell was right, he had made you a freak. You were a monster. 

A sob racks through your chest, and the painful feeling explodes. 

You try to scream out, only for your lungs to fill with water and more panic to take place. 

- 

Steve could not believe his eyes, holding Sam's abdomen tightly in an attempt to stop the blood, watching as vines burst from the basement and travel across every surface faster then he ever thought possible. 

“Is that……” Steve starts, looking to where Nat was trying to get Bucky up.

“Y/n.”

Sam gasps out as the vines wrap around him, tightening around his wound and glowing a deep golden color as some of the blood stops, the vines traveling further and wrapping around the Hydra soldiers tightly to stop them all. 

Now that Sam's wound is being taken care of, Steve dashes to dive in the water, swimming down to try and find where you were. Only you were nowhere to be found, whatsoever. 

By the time he comes back up he is panting for air, watching as Bucky kneels by the water with blood leaking down his face and panicked eyes looking at his friend. “Where is she?”

“She’s not down there.” Steve gasps. 

“STEVE WHERE IS SHE?!” Bucky snaps, the water reaching his waist as Nat moves to snatch him back. 

“The vines are dying, Y/n can’t hold them off forever. We gotta go.” She rushes out, snatching the back of Buckys vest. 

“NOT WITHOUT Y/N-”

“Bucky. Y/n is holding them off but we have to get Sam out of here. Please.”

- 

“Any word on Y/n?” Bruce asks, coming into the surveillance room where Clint is deep diving into the footage. 

“I can’t find her.” He admits, eyes never leaving the screen. “I would love some help.”

“You got it.”

“Lock the door before Barnes comes in and bothers me again.” He sighs, watching Bruce lock it. It was a joke, but he knew that Barnes was hurting. He could understand that. 

- 

Bucky woke up in a startled panic, reaching to your side of the bed quickly, sitting up to find you when he doesn’t feel you. “Y/n?”

His voice is scratchy, a mix of all the screaming from yesterday, and he slowly realizes you aren’t there as the memories resurface.You weren’t here, you were gone. They weren’t able to find you yesterday. 

A knock sounds at the door and Bucky jumps up, excitement filling him as he rushes to answer, hoping to see your face on the other side of the door, only to find Steve on the other side. His heart plummets to his stomach as his friend looks at him softly. 

“You found your way to her apartments then?”

“I think I came here immediately yesterday.” He answers truthfully, letting Steve in before looking around the room, seeing all the dead plants. “How did her plants die in a day?”

“Buck…..” Steve starts, and Bucky tenses, fists clenched as he turns to his friend. “It’s been…. It’s been a week.”

“What?” Bucky laughs, flinching as Steve turns on the light. 

“It’s been a week. You came here the night we brought you back and you passed out, I think because of the head injury-”

“If it’s been a week then where is my doll?”

“We…. we can’t find her Buck.” Steve sighs, rubbing between his eyes. “I think it’s time you and I talked about some things-”

“Talk about things? I can’t talk I have to go find her Steve-” He moves to pass his friend but Steve shoots his hand out to catch him. 

“I think it’s time to admit you love her.”

- 

Freak freak freak freak freak. 

Your mouth was dry and your feet hurt, this was the only thing you could comprehend. 

The lady in the market was staring at you wildly, looking terrified as she reached a hand towards you, concern flashing through her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

She had a heavy accent, one that reminded you of someone, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. What was it…..russian?

“Do you want me to call someone?” She asks, rubbing your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

“I…..I’m….” Who were you? You blinked slowly, trying to remember who you were. All you saw was a flash of someone with a metal arm before you were met with a bald man in a lab coat. “I… don’t…. Who am I?”

- 

Bucky finds himself in the med bay the next morning after a long lecture from Steve, staring at Sam as his friend runs on the treadmill. 

“I… I am so confused. Steve said you were in critical condition?” 

“He was.” Cho answers in amazement, reading the stats that Sam is sending through the tech pad in her hands. “But he is completely healed.”

“How?”

“Y/n, there were traces of her vines left in the wound. It’s completely healed now.”

“Her…. she’s never done that before.” Bucky mumbles, a tight feeling in his chest. “What do you think it means?”

“I think we need to find Y/n, as fast as we can. That was way too much energy used.” Cho answers, a grim expression on her face.

Bucky could do that, he would tear apart the world to find you.

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[after-witch]

To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Title: To the Top [Yandere Chuuya x Reader]

Synopsis: Over the past few months of your pregnancy, you’ve never been sweeter to Chuuya. Little does he know that for every smile you’ve given him, you’ve stashed away something for your escape. 

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader is pregnant, abusive behavior  (chains, restrictions, food control, etc)

Life in this shut-up penthouse was never exactly invigorating--but over the past few months it has become unbearable. And that unbearable, stifling heaviness weighing you down every single day has taken its toll in more ways than one. 

It’s made you feel like you’re going to lose it at any moment. It’s made you feel like you’d rather be anywhere than here.

You want to get out.

Chuuya had rules for you, of course, when he first started keeping you here. They came slow--a leash that tightened before you realized it--and sure. 

But now, with your belly swollen and growing bigger by the day, he’s completely taken control. 

You’re not allowed to go outside, even with Chuuya, even surrounded by bodyguards ready to take a bullet or unload them into any would-be assassins. Those brief bouts of fresh air were one of the few bright spots in your life, now blotted out from Chuuya’s paranoia of losing you. 

You’re not allowed to use your exercise bike or take a swim in the heated indoor pool tucked in the basement. It doesn’t matter how much you argue that you should be exercising for the sake of your health, because Chuuya says he does let you exercise. According to him, anyway.

He only lets you do the mildest--and you do mean mildest--of aerobic exercises in the pool. Only under supervision, and the moment you look like you want to start leaning into the water and getting in a nice backstroke, Chuuya orders you out and you’d best comply if you ever want to see the pool again for the next 2 years.

You’re not allowed to eat whatever you want, even when your cravings feel like they’re going to eat you from the inside out. He doesn’t starve you, no, no, no. But you can’t have a big juicy cheeseburger topped with bacon and a side of onion rings, a heavenly concoction that makes you drool just to think of it. 

If you must have a burger, and it’s a big if--Chuuya allows you to eat a made-from-scratch ground turkey burger with low fat cheese and a side of mashed sweet potato (no butter, no extra salt!) all courtesy of the well-trained personal chef Chuuya hired to live in the building. 

They’re the reason you are eating three square meals and two snacks a day, and the reason each and every meal is perfectly designed to eat every nutrition goal. Everything you eat is always nutritious and sure, the food isn’t disgusting… but it’s not fucking fair, is it, that you can’t just eat what you want when you want. 

Chuuya insists you eat only the best of foods. He makes sure every meal comes with a little cup of medicine--prenatal vitamins and anything else the doctor thinks will help keep you safe during your pregnancy. 

He doesn’t let you run around or fret or clean or do much of anything at all. He doesn’t want you to exert yourself, he says. You can’t eat what you want or do what you want or go where you want. 

It’s all too much.

You fought at first. You argued. You pleaded. But it didn’t do anything but make Chuuya tighten his hold on you.

And that’s why you accept his rules now with the utmost of patience and sweetness that you can muster. Oh, you haven’t given in. You aren’t meekly submitting to Chuuya and agreeing that he surely knows what’s best for you.

You’re just biding your time for the day when you can get the hell out of here.

Besides, you needed a little bit of freedom if you were going to escape. And a little bit of freedom was all you were going to get.

Early on in the pregnancy, Chuuya kept you locked in the bedroom when he was away because you fought him too much. A chain around your ankle kept you from even trying to get out the bedroom door.

Yes, you were given food by a stoic bodyguard throughout the day and it wasn’t like you were left to fend for yourself, but still. It would be impossible to leave if you were stuck in the bedroom all day.

Now, though, Chuuya lets you walk around the penthouse when he’s gone. He allows the chef to premake some of your meals so that you can microwave them if he’s not here to feed you; you can watch a movie in the living room or take a nap on your shared bed or whatever you’d like, as long as it’s quiet and calming. 

Because you’re good, and you’ve behaved, and you let him do what’s best for you. 

It’s not a lot of freedom. But it’s enough to give you the chance to start stashing away supplies for your escape; it’s enough to give you the perfect moment to pretend to fall asleep on the sofa before Chuuya leaves one day, so you can look just in time to see the passcode he enters on the electronic lock attached to the front door.

It’s enough to put you on the path towards freedom. 

--

Chuuya paces back and forth so rapidly that you’re starting to feel a bit dizzy. There’s a framed picture of flowers--your favorite--on the wall behind him, and you focus on that to keep yourself steady. Chuuya… flowers… Chuuya… flowers. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. I could send someone else for this.”

“Chuuya.” 

“Or I can send one of my guards to stay in the apartment while I’m gone. Just to be safe? Shit, I don’t know.” 

“Chuuya.”

“Fuck it, I’ll call it in, I’m not going--”

“Chuuya.”

He stops, and you take the opportunity to step forward and grasp both of his hands in yours. You pull them against your chest and watch as his expression goes from agitated and fretful to sweet, almost puppy-love. Every time you touch him without being told, it’s like you can see a sweet light spark in his eyes. Too bad you lost your spark a while ago. 

“Go,” you say, soft and sweet and so fake you wonder that he can’t see through it. “I’ll be fine. The building’s being guarded, and the door will be locked.” The tension begins to melt from his shoulders, and you continue. “Just come home safe, all right?”

His frown holds for only a moment more, then it splits into a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah… You’re right.” He lifts his hands, taking yours with them, so that he can press a short kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be back in the early morning--don’t wait up for me, you two need your sleep. Got it?”

We won’t be here when you get back, you think. “I know. We’ll go to bed early,” you say. 

And then you lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, your stomach brushing against him as you do. 

He expects a kiss whenever he leaves and you’re almost happy to give it, tonight, because you know it will be the last one he ever gets from you. 

--

You don’t act right away. You’re not stupid. It’s about 2 hours after he leaves that the plan is ready to set into motion. In the meantime, you’ve read and reread the same page of your book a thousand times; sweat has begun to cling to your back as your eyes dart from the page to the clock. 

The sensation of your stomach in knots is equaled only by the frenzy of activity inside your belly--you swear they can sense what’s going on. Can they feel how your heart has begun to race? Can they tell that your muscles are tense? That your ears are strained, listening for the sound of his footsteps, in case he changed his mind?

You’re thankful that you’re not alone when you finally retrieve your bag from its hiding spot. You’ve got supplies. Some cash, food, a few water bottles. Underwear, clothes--yours and the babies--and some of the baby things Chuuya has already picked up. A blanket, a package of bottles, in case he doesn’t take to the breast.

It’s not a lot. But it will be enough to get you through to safety and freedom, and that’s all that really matters.

The bag shifts on your shoulders as you stand at the door, heart pounding, breath coming in short puffs. The guards outside the door are doing their rounds--back and forth, stopping in front of the front door of the penthouse and again at the door of the elevator just a few steps away, then going round the corner to complete a circle. 

It takes them 15 seconds to walk down the hallway once they walk away from the elevator. And you have about 60 seconds to get from the front door into the elevator before they come back. Maybe 90 seconds, maybe 2 minutes, if they stop to chat. They don’t do that with any regularity, so it’s impossible to plan for it. So you don’t. 

Instead, you count, one hand on your belly, one hand poised above the numbers on the electronic lock. It makes a noise so you have to wait to just… the right… time…

Now.

Despite all of the careful planning that went into this, as soon as your fingers press the code in, all thinking seems to cease. You are running on pure instinct. The door opens and you don’t even look to make sure the guards aren’t there, instead you fly right to the elevator door and push down.

It could all go wrong here. If someone is in the elevator, if someone is coming up from the floors, if the elevator didn’t return to the top after Chuuya left.

But the door has mercy and opens right away, and you rush into it, almost tripping over the threshold. Your finger trembles onto the close door button and it shuts. You don’t hear shouts. You don’t hear panic.

They didn’t see you.

Timing, again, is everything. You press the fifth floor so that the elevator will stop there long enough for the guards at the bottom to--you hope, you hope, you hope, if you timed it right--be around the corner as well. But there’s no telling if your timing is correct here. Maybe they don’t leave the doors at all, on the bottom floor. Maybe there are more guards, maybe they take shifts. All these maybes ball up in your stomach and take the air out of you as the elevator reaches the ground floor and opens.

You rush out without looking, but no one is there. You’re at the private back entrance and you don’t waste time thinking about how lucky you are or what to do next; you simply push yourself out the door and begin to run down the street.

It doesn’t take long for your feet to hurt. The house slippers Chuuya gives you are not meant for concrete, not meant for uneven sidewalks where people occasionally drop glass bottles and cigarette butts. 

You don’t let the pain stop you. You never have before. 

As you run, solid thoughts finally begin to return to your mind, which feels less fuzzy and more aware of the danger that you might be in. You did it. You’re out. You’re gone. You’re free. 

But not just yet, right? You need to stay hidden. You need to be safe.  You need, above all, to get off the highly visible streets. 

A sign for a bus stop catches your eye. Yes--a bus. You could let it take you as far as it will, and then go from there. But the sign says the bus stops on the hour, and there’s still 30 minutes to go--you can’t stay out on the street that long.

Instead, you slip into an alley just a little bit away from the sign. It’s close enough that you could press yourself against a wall and still keep an eye out for when the bus arrives. Will it be comfortable? No. Will it be smelly? Probably. Will you be out of public view? Yes--so that’s what you do.

You slip into the alley and immediately every nerve on your body raises because there is someone here with you.

No. Scratch that.

Two someones.

There is a man standing that you can only see from behind. He is shrouded in the shadows of the alleyway’s end, which isn’t lit by anything but the hint of light from the street. 

And there is a man on the ground, pressed against the farthest end of the alley, begging for his life. You only catch some of the words that tumble out of his desperate lips: I didn’t betray you, I swear, I swear, I can tell you everything you need to know, it wasn’t me, oh please, fuck, I swear--

And then he doesn’t speak anymore because the first man shoots him in the head. He falls backward and something hits the wall and you can't help the noise of startled horror that slips out of your mouth.

The man turns around, gun drawn, and you have just enough time to think--this is it--before he steps forward. 

And… says your name?

The man is Chuuya.

The man is Chuuya, who holsters his gun and, mouth gaping, has his hands on you before you can even think about running. He’s checking you over--for bruises or cuts or who knows what else--and his grip on your forearm is relentlessly strong. 

“What the fuck? What the fuck?” He says, not believing the sight of you, even as he touches you. “Babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Where’s--”

And then he sees the bag slung over your shoulder. Sees how full it looks. He glances down at your stomach. Then back  up at your face.

“You were trying to leave?”

The hurt on his face might induce pity, if you weren’t currently dealing with the most horrific adrenaline rush in the world. 

“No,” you sputter. “Yes. No. I--” 

And it’s then that your body and mind crash together, and the realization that you’ve been caught catches up with you. You should run. You will run. 

And you try, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t even have enough leverage to take a step back with how tightly he’s holding you. Your mind knows this, but your body doesn’t accept it quite yet, and you squirm fruitlessly against him.

He only needs one hand to keep you by his side as he takes out his phone and barks out an order at someone to come take care of the body of the poor dead man in the alley.

Then he looks back at you and hurt, fear, anger, play out on his face in a series of moments. 

“We’re going,” he tells you. He’s back on his phone, another order. A car to pick you up. 

His voice promises locked doors and lost privileges, yes, but there’s something else simmering in there that has you yanking back feebly as he drags you out of the alley and into an unmarked car.

--

Every guard Chuuya crosses stammers out apologies, swears they don’t know how this happened. Chuuya deals with them in clipped tones that make you wonder if they’ll survive the night. Reassigned, if they’re lucky.

The penthouse is just as you left it. Quiet. Clean. A now runny smoothie, fortified with vitamins and calculated with the perfect natal nutrients, sits on the counter; you didn’t drink it tonight.

Chuuya drags you through to the bedroom. All this time, he hasn’t let go of your hand. There will be finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.

You expect him to scream at you. Maybe even hurt you. A physical slap might hurt less than this all-consuming fear as he pulls you into the bedroom and gently guides you to sit down on the bed. What will he do? What will he say?

Your hand grasps your belly--please don’t hurt me.

Chuuya growls out bubbling anger, turns, and punches the wall so hard that his fist goes through the drywall. His knuckles have freckles of blood on them.

The sound, the sight of the blood, the anger pressing down on your shoulders--it’s all too much and hot tears spill over your lower eyelids and down your cheeks, salty, burning. 

He’s on his knees, immediately, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks.

“Babe, I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hushes your hiccuping sobs, wiping and kissing your tears in alternate measures. “I was just so fucking mad.” 

At me? You think. 

“Those guards,” he continues, frowning. “They weren’t watching you like they should.”

“But I…” You don’t finish: But I’m the one who ran away.

Your confusion must show on your face, because he presses a kiss to your cheek, to your lips. 

“Hush. I know you’re prone to fits like this. I don’t mind. It’s why I do so much to watch over you, y’know?” He rubs at your cheeks with this thumb and cracks a smile. From the corner of your eye,  you can see the blood on his knuckles. “It was either the wall or one of those guys’ heads, right?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he kisses you, more lingering this time.

“You make me crazy,” he whispers against your lips. “You know that?”

“Chuuya,” you whisper, breath mingling with this. “Please, I want to… I want to…” Leave. Be free. All words you could say, that never make their way past your lips.

He sits up taller on his knees and rests his head against your stomach. There’s a flurry of movement inside you--does the baby know he’s there? What does the baby, in all its primordial growth, think of any of today’s events?

“I know it’s scary,” Chuuya murmurs. “You don’t have to tell me. We’re about to be parents. Anyone would be worried.” 

That’s not what you wanted to say. It’s hard to say if Chuuya knows it and pretends otherwise or simply doesn’t acknowledge your resistance at all. 

He sighs through his nose and closes his eyes.

“I’ll have to bring the chain back out for a while. Maybe until the baby comes.” He opens his eyes just a little and glances up at you with a smile. “But I can make it long enough for you to walk around. Doctor said you needed to stretch your legs every day, babe.”

He closes his eyes again and you don’t know what else you can do but reach out and rest your palm against his head. He leans into your touch.

“I know,” you croak out. There’s a few beats--of your heart?--and your fingers curl against his hair. “I’m sorry I went outside.” What else can you do, but lean into Chuuya, but apologize for doing what he insists you never do. Leave him, be free, live your own life.

He sighs and nuzzles himself against your stomach. He presses a soft kiss to it before pulling himself off the floor, leaning down, and kissing you on the head.

“I know, babe. Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

You wonder what Chuuya might have done if he had gotten angry at you.

Perhaps it’s better not to know.

#yandere chuuya #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere #afterwitch writes

[lovelytsunoda]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus // alex albon

summary: alex has to keep up the illusion that santa claus is real, and every year gets more extreme than the last. he's got footprints to put on the living room floor and cookies to eat and stocking to fill . . . and at this rate, he's going to wake up the whole house.

pairing: alex albon x wife! reader

warnings: set in the future, so alex is about 30, children ( their names are gabriel and isabella ), gabriel sees his mommy kissing santa claus (who's really just alex in a festive hat), honestly it's just fluff guys (aside from one joke about having george shove alex off a cliff if she left him to go out with santa claus)

it was the night before christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even alex albon's five cats. his wife was asleep in their bed upstairs, and the kids were down for the count, wrapped in layers of blankets as alexander tiptoes down to the living room, where the christmas tree was set up in the bay window.

he turned on the tree lights, slipping a santa hat over his dark heair and opening the walk-in closet to find the large canvas bag that he and his wife had filled with christmas presents.

above the fireplace hung four stockings. stockings that his wife had painstakingly bedazzeld for each member of the family: alex, y/n, gabriel and isabella.

he rubbed his palms together, looking at the pilsbury cookies on the coffee table.

he had some work to do.

meanwhile, y/n albon was stirring in bed, panic setting in as she groggily opened her eyes, finding her husband's side of the bed empty.

"alex?" she mumbled, slowly sitting up. a zit on her back had popped during the night, a small spattering of blood hardening on the back of her cotton nightdress.

she heard a crash coming from the basement, and she sprung out of the bed, her mama bear instincts kicking in and telling her to go and check on the kids.

first she checked on isabella, her youngest. she three-year-old had just migrated form crib to toddler bed, the small piece of ikea furniture made from stunning white wrought iron. the little girl was peacefully asleep, nestled under her snoopy blanket with a build a bear in her arms, three large stuffed animals watching over her from the foot of the bed.

she backed out of the room, closing the door before she moved further down the hall, past the sim room, to the white door decorated in glow-in-the-dark stars. gabriel was curled up in his twin bed, his head barely poking out from over his Spider-Man duvet, a stuffed reindeer clutches in his arms. a karting trophy sat on his dresser, next to a picture of him and his dad when he won his first race.

satisfied that both her kids were still soundly asleep, she set out to find her husband.

“alex?” she called out, pulling her bathrobe tight around her body as she made her way to the main floor. “alexander, what the hell are you doing?”

alex knelt in front of the couch, shaking flour over a card stock cutout of a boot print. “baby? what are you doing awake?”

“honey, you knocked the lamp over.” she chuckled, picking the ikea lamp up off the floor and setting back in the side table. “what are you doing?”

“setting the scene for Santa’s visit, obviously.” Alex chirped, yanking away the card stock. “see, snowy footprints!”

y/n laughed, fingertips against her temple. “you know that once isabella sees those presents she’s going to run right through all of the work you just put in to those footprints.”

“it’s all about the fun, love” one of the cats mewled, nuzzling against alex’s thigh as he leaned towards the coffee table, holding up the square plate. “cookie?”

"darling, it's four in the morning." she laughed, picking up a reindeer cookie from the plate. "you know that you'll eventually have to tell the kids that santa claus isn't real, right?"

"or i could let them figure it out for themselves." alex reasoned, getting to his feet and pulling his wife close. "isabella is smart, she'll figure it out before her brother does. she takes after you."

"and gabriel takes after his father. some days, it's like having three children in this house."

"hey!" alex feigned hurt. "give me a hand putting the presents under the tree? i've got springsteen."

she laughed, kissing him softly. "if you put the springsteen on, you're going to wake the kids."

"not if we use my airpods." he winked, tossing her the bluetooth case.

she let the airpods connect, putting one in her right ear before passing the case back to alexander. bruce springsteen's 'merry christmas baby' began to play as they started to empty out the canvas sack, stacking the beautifully wrapped presents underneath the white christmas tree. alex was dancing, shuffling around on the hardwood in his socks and messing up a few of the flour footprints, causing his wife to laugh.

"alex, you're going to wake the kids." she reminded, giggling as she reached for his hands, allowing him to pull her in for a dance.

she rested her head against his chest, allowing her husband to sway side to side with her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"i'm so glad i met you. i love you, and i love our kids, and i love the life that i have created with you." alex whispered, still holding her close.

"i love you too." she hummed, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"mommy!"

alex and y/n startled, jumping and slipping apart, turning to face the stairs. gabriel stood in the middle of the staircase, white as a sheet as he clutched his stuffed reindeer.

"gabriel, honey, what are you doing awake?" y/n cooed, concerned as she walked over to her son.

"mommy, why were you kissing santa claus?"

she shot a glance at alex before taking her son's hand, walking up the stairs with gabriel as she tried to calm him down.

"sweetie, that wasn't santa claus. that was just your dad, he was tidying the living room for when santa comes to visit. we don't want santa claus tripping on any cat toys, do we?"

after she tucked gabriel back into bed, with his dinosaur nightlight switched on, she left the door open slightly, holding her robe tightly around her body as she watched him fall asleep through the crack in the door.

"who taught him that santa claus was a thirty year old thai man?" alex scoffed. "has he learned nothing from his aunties? do i look like i could eat eight billion plates of cookies in one night?"

y/n laughed, allowing her husband to hug her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "didn't your brother try and teach him that santa claus was an alien?"

"yeah, he did, didn't he." alex chuckled. "what did you tell him?"

"that you were just moving gucci's cat toys out of the way so that santa wouldn't trip. he thought i was cheating on you with saint nick."

"baby, if you left me for an aging, overweight white man and went to go live in the arctic and bake cookies all day, i'd have george shove me off a cliff."

she tilted her head up to face alex, thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. "we're doing a damn good job with these kids, aren't we?"

"yeah babe, we are. but soon they'll grow up, and then we'll be grandparents-"

"stop talking. you're going to make me feel old!"

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @thatsdemko @twinkodium

#alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #alex albon x y/n #the christmas collection 2023 #mini fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Inspired by this

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I'm always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment 💕

Group assignments are your worst nightmare. You’ve never been a fan of doing all the work while your classmates sit around and waste time. It’s one of the many reasons you opted for an online program over in-class learning. At least, you’d thought it would solve that problem.

How wrong you are. The second assignment and your task is to write a book review with a partner. Wonderful.

Worse than being the work horse, you’re just as much a pushover. How many times did you let the others speak over you and end up researching a topic you didn’t even care about? And all so they can coast off your efforts.

You sigh and look at your phone. You're nervous. It’s after three, they’re late. Or maybe not coming at all.

You frown and put your cell face down. You offered an online meeting with your assigned partner. You even made suggestions; Zoom, Whatsapp, Teams… They said they preferred to meet face-to-face, you were too reluctant to counter that you don’t. Again, rolled right over.

What was their name again?

You snatch up your phone again and check the short conversation. Terse responses to your overly quizzical messages. Walter. Your mind builds a stringy character with square glasses and a World of Warcraft tee shirt.

You stare at your last message. You told him you were there in the library, down in the basement where it’s not as busy. You think you included enough description of where; just between reference and biographies.

You minimize the chat and tap the learner portal shortcut pinned to your homescreen. It redirects to a browser and you sign in. No new announcements or notification. You scroll through the homescreen aimlessly.

You hear the heavy door to the stairs open and close and you flinch. You look up and see a man in an unzipped jacket with a messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. He’s tall and broad and his curls are slightly mussed with his expedience. He peers around and you sink into your seat.

Not him. He’s too old. Definitely not the ‘Walter’ sort.

You bring the chat back up, ready to text; ‘you on your way?’ Not anything accusatory, just checking in. Before you can hit send, someone clears their throat. You look up as that man stands across the table from you.

He says your name and you lower your phone, frowning as you straighten in your seat. Really?

“Oh, hi, Walter?” You utter.

“Mm, yeah,” his voice is more of a growl as he pulls out a chair and drops into it.

He puts his bag on the table as you lock your phone and set it aside. You swallow and grip the edges of your closed laptop. You watch him shrug out of his jacket. He lets it drop back over the chair which seems too small for him.

He’s not what you expected. At all. Not the sort you thought to meet in a creative writing program.

He inhales and rubs his forehead, “shoulda grabbed a coffee,” he grumbles. “Sorry I’m late, got held up.”

“It’s okay,” you eke out, running your fingers up and down the sides of your laptop. His eyes fall to the movement and you stop, opening the lid instead, “well, I was looking through the shared Doc, going through the suggestions…”

He hums and nods, an elbow on the table as he leans in, listening to you intently. Your voice wobbles as you speak only to keep yourself distracted, “I like the list but I’m not sure if they fit the parameters of the assignment.”

“How so?” He challenges.

“Oh, well, I… I don’t know, I was just reviewing the guidelines– if you think they do, I’m open to discussion–”

“And your suggestions? Girls’ books. I don’t wanna read those.”

You wince and bring your eyes up to meet his. You can’t tell if he’s glaring or that’s just the way he looks. You notice the few strands of silver woven through one of his curls. How old is he?

“Right, I’m not ruling anything out,” you sniff, “I did like this one. In The Woods? It sounded interesting, my only concern is it’s the first in a series.”

“So?”

“So nothing,” you wilt again, “sorry, well, how about that one? We can see if they have any copies we can take out here–”

“I have one,” he grits out. You don’t understand why you met in-person. He hardly seems to like chatting and you’re not better at it.

“Sure, okay, well, I’ll take care of getting a copy for myself,” you say, “we should set a date to read it by… I guess you already have… but we can make notes in the Doc. I’ll add a new section here.”

He huffs, a stormy gale that makes you shiver. What luck. You always did get the best partners for these things. You wonder if it’s too late to reach out to the instructor. No, that’s too much. It’s only your first meeting, you’re still strangers.

“Are you really taking this course so you can write those love stories?” He asks.

Your eyes flick up and your blanch, “what?”

“I wouldn’t let my daughter read those books. They set a bad example for girls,” he snarls.

“Oh, I didn’t… I… I want to write fantasy but er…” you stammer, his judgment scalding. “Let me just finish here.”

You turn your attention back to the screen. You go up to the list of book titles and erase the ones you put in. Your cheeks are on fire.

“You don’t have to delete them.”

“No, we don’t need them. We made our choice,” you insist with a tremor.

“Hm, shoulda figured.” You stop and once more peer over your laptop screen, “don’t have to be so sensitive. Can’t be a good writer if you can’t take criticism.”

“I wasn’t…” you begin and shrug off the argument. “Thanks, you’re right.”

He squints and tilts his head, “you also need life experience. No one wants to read a story about nothing.”

You gulp and bat your lashes at him. Wow, he’s mean.

“You don’t know me,” you quaver.

“Can guess a lot from someone’s bookshelf,” he says. “It’s my job to read people.”

“You’re job…” you wrinkle your nose, “well, then why are you taking a writing course?”

He pushes his shoulders back and inhales, “some people have something to say.”

The inference of his statement stings. You won’t debate him. You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. Apparently, he doesn’t want to get to know you either. You’re not even sure why he came.

“Well, I think we have our next steps,” you push out your brittle voice.

“Sure do,” he checks his watch, “let me know if you need me to explain anything.”

He stands and grabs his coat and bag. You just sit there, watching him dumbly, “thanks, I will,” you murmur.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #study buddy #drabble #series

[moremousewrites]

Disarm

Request link

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (GN)

Prompt: Astarion and Tav have a secret relationship and are discovered

Tags: suggestive language, light fluff, caught in the act, grinding

A/N: thank you for the prompt! I kept it relatively spoiler free and gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Another dingy basement full of traps; terrific. Astarion had been hunched over for at least an hour trying to disarm each square foot. “Whatever's in here better be worth this many traps” Astarion lifted a tripwire from the floor and removed the explosive attached to it. 

You sat on a barrel, ready to extinguish the flames with a spell at a moment's notice. Perhaps you were a bit distracted by Astarion's focused expression as well but you weren't too concerned about a trap going off. As you'd learned in your time together, Astarion was very dexterous. 

“We could always just set them off and pick through the ashes” you joked, watching him roll his eyes at the suggestion. 

“Are you volunteering to be the one to trigger the traps?” he asked, turning toward you. His face looked exhausted but you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You shook your head. “I was thinking about sending Karlach in. She could handle it” you shrugged. 

Astarion walked over to you, resting his hands on your makeshift seat, cornering you. “And where are our dear companions now?” He asked, his signature purr lacing every word.

You parted your legs, instinctively, letting him stand between them. Your little situation with Astarion was hard to explain so you never really tried. Of course there was the sex but neither of you really left it at that despite both of your best efforts. You'd hand him the best loot first, letting him greedily hoard it from the rest of the camp until someone would intervene because he didn't really need a channeling staff. In battle, you noticed he'd defend you more than you thought was necessary. Some patterns were just being slipped into. Like how every morning you'd ask how his hunting went the night before. And every night he'd find some clandestine way to touch your hand before you turned in for sleep. 

“They went outside. I think they were bored” your eyes flitted to his lips which were moving closer to your own. You stayed still, waiting for him to make the first move.

With a quick turn of his face, Astarion leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Then it seems we're all alone” his voice dripping with desire. You couldn't help but try to squeeze your legs together at the sound of his voice, forgetting he stood between them still. Your thighs pressed against his and Astarion let out a light scoff at your expense. “Eager, are we?” he teased. You felt his lips press into your jaw, traveling across your neck. You nodded your head, a flush blooming across your face. 

You let out a small sigh, grinding yourself into him further. As Astarion moved to the waistband of your trousers, a heartstopping voice pulled you from your reverie. 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Karlach's voice boomed throughout the basement. Astarion straightened himself immediately, trying to act casual but thoroughly shaken from the intrusion. You were not nearly as composed. You scrambled to jump off the barrel and fell off of it, bruising your ego more than anything else but that was irreparable now. 

From behind Karlach you saw Shadowheart, a sly grin across her features. “Well isn’t this a cozy scene. Wyll owes me 15 gold pieces” Shadowheart walked back upstairs, a sway in her step. 

You stood up from the ground, irritated. “Aw Tav, you're blushing” Karlach said in a sing-songy voice a school child might. 

Astarion put on his most flirtatious drawl and pointed at you, “You're welcome to watch, Karlach but you wouldn't believe how deep that blush goes” he gave her a pointed look through his impenetrable grin. You sent a glare his way.

Karlach raised her hands in surrender and began walking up the stairs. “If you're still looking for loot, keep it. I don't wanna touch it after you” she disappeared behind the door and Astarion looked at you.

“Well, now that the cat's out of the bag,” he held your waist and pulled you close. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and shook your head. “Just disarm the fucking traps, please” you were in no mood to continue what you had started. Astarion chuckled at your frustration and got back to work. You sat on the barrel again, feeling a bit happier than before. 

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #fic request #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction

[toxicanonymity]

The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close.  It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You want the truth.  You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck.  “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate.  He thinks in silence for a moment. 

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding.  “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in.  What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app.  “You’re in the pool house,” he decides.  He turns on a dim light in the pool house.  

“What does he want?” you ask.  

“Hell if I know.  Go through the basement.” 

“No way.” 

“Come on, Trouble.” 

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.” 

He seems endeared by your fear.  “Do it for us,”  he says with a wink that makes your heart jump.  Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink. 

“Wait,” you say. 

He freezes. 

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say.  “I’m mad anyway,” you say. 

“Figured.  It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.  

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.” 

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.  

-

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.” 

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”  

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon.  Didn’t want her to drive.” 

There’s a long pause and your heart races. 

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.” 

Damn, Joel is smooth.  He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .” 

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear.  You creep down the stairs quietly.  You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners.  It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house.  The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.  

-

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist.  You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen.  If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out.  It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this.  Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser. 

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands,  “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out!  I’m not in charge, you know that.”  Glasses clink with ice. 

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day. 

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want.  I want out.”

“You’ll be out.” 

“I want it in writing.” 

Your dad scoffs.  “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?” 

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?” 

“It was supposed to be a six month contract.  Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.”  You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.  

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says. 

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone.  “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK”  A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-” 

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel.  Call it what it is.  I’m an asset.  Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.” 

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,”  Joel calms down a little.  “And what about you?  You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”  

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues. 

“We’re on the same team, buddy.  I want this over as bad as you do.  C’mon, let’s look at the intel.” 

You’re sick to your stomach.  Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.  

-

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard.  So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head.  The one about your stepmother and  . . . gross.  Something doesn’t sit right about it.  You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex. 

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity.  Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it.  And once you got there, game over?  Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question.  If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened?  It’s an easy no.  

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off,  you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now.  You want to hear it from Joel.  You want to know what his real job is.  The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him.  And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter. 

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day.  There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy.  It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator.  You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you.  There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed.  You stay on the couch.  It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off. 

-

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table.  You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.   

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”  

You shake your head no.  

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly.  You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.  

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head.  You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck. 

. . . 

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it.  He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad.  He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse.  Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face. 

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes.  He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch.  His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.  

He whispers, “Are you on-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off.  Then he covers your mouth with his lips again.  Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you.  It’s so close.  It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now.  His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly.  He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You really, really want the truth.  It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it. 

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.  

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him. 

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”  

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.  

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer. 

 “Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations.  You need the truth, but you’re aching.  Your body needs to be filled by his. 

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask. 

“When I’m back,” he sighs.  

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer.  He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.  

-

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place.   He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth.  He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad.  He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back.  He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically.  He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours.  Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket. 

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach.  You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it.  He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock.  It sends a  bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask. 

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.  

You want his lips on yours forever.  You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him.  You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back.  You shrug off the blanket.  He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in  your hand.  You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.”  Right.  Of course.  

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit.  You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction. 

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.  

-

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself.  You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans.  Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.  

He moans and breathes heavily.  “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.  

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.  

He groans.  “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.  

He takes a deep breath.  “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right.  You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs.  You bend at the hip and hover over his cock. 

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.  

“Still own the business.”  He adjusts his hips under you.  

“But that’s not all you do.”  You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need. 

“No,” he quietly admits. 

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with.  You throw caution to the wind and ask,  “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip.  No immediate answer.  Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans.  You take it out.

He sighs.  “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.” 

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before.  You hook your top leg over him.  You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead.  His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.  

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.”  Your heart skips a beat.  You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake.  You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.  

-

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.  

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe.  He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan.  You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.  

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low.  He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard.  His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest.  When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips.  Tension swells and tightens deep within you. 

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face.   You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows.  You bite your lip and inhale through your nose.  You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right.  He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more.  He pauses and you just barely nod. 

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him.  Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you.  He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.  

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.  

“Yes ma’am,” he growls.  He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely.  Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.  

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt.  He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last.  Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo.  You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels.  He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth.  He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out.  Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.  

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head.  He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.  

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.  

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue.  His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm.  His hair is messy and perfect.  The silver bits of his beard glisten. 

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.  

“About to come?” he asks.  You nod and take a deep breath.  He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit.  The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you.  Then another.  You clench around him and your body jerks erratically.  Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.  

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock.  You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him.  When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath.  He strokes your face and says, “god damn.” 

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.  

-

He looks so peaceful.  At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on.  You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately.  All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not.  You start to worry about him going to do this job. 

After a long silence, you say,  “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?” 

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face.  He sighs.  “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.”  He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.  

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says. 

“That’s messed up,” you say.  “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass.  Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse.  Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.” 

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.” 

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.” 

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud.  You playfully pinch his cheek. 

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.  

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing.  You don’t need to spell it out.

-

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight.  “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “   His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck.  He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant.  He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.  

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he says.  “Neither could you.”  Well, that’s true.  “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me.  That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.  

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says.  “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?” 

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips.  “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?”  You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away. 

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do.  Not that you’ll do anything with it.  Too dangerous. 

“Yeah,” you say.  

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you.  “This right here,” he says.  “If you want.”  

You fall asleep in his arms again. 

-

When you wake up, he’s gone.  It’s light outside.  Birds are chirping.  You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.”   You don’t stay there.  It’s too creepy without him.  You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly.  A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.  

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck.  He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.   

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.  

“All done?” you ask.   

“Let’s celebrate,” he says.  “Got that same suite on the river.  Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”  

-

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

-

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro @ausamocee @skythighs @jasminedragon @leeeesahhh @blushynini @momia2910 

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #content label

[cheegu3]

𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 - 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍

prompt; here genre; yandere, one-shot warnings; yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, delusional!bf, sexual undertones / themes, nausea, anger, some violence, sympathizing w abuser, a little sad wc; 1.2k

'' You did this for me? ''

The first thing you saw while being led up the stairs was the extravagant cake. It looked like an exact copy of the one you'd had with your family and friends a year before, back when Hyunjin didn't know you. It sent chills down your spine.

He nodded, a proud smile on his lips. '' Do you like it? ''

Your eyes shifted to the other things he had done. Ballons were hung up in the background next to a happy birthday banner. Overall it looked very inviting and it was a sweet gesture. But you would've appreciated it more if he let you see your loved ones instead.

The living room looked so lonely with all its context. You always looked forward to your birthdays. However, ever since being kidnapped and kept in the basement you had no concept of the passing of time.

You glanced at the calendar on the wall. Sure enough, it was your birthday. You weren't even going to question how he knew that, he had revealed throughout your time here that he had stalked you for a long time and knew more than you thought.

Something stirred inside you, June, you had already been here for three months?

Hyunjin moved in your peripheral vision, causing you to be brought back to reality and become aware of his darkened stare at you.

'' It's perfect, thank you. ''

'' What were you thinking about? ''

You swallowed hard and tried your best to put on a fake, beaming smile. '' Just that it's already been three months since I came here. ''

He lit up. '' I know right! ''

Hyunjin didn't pick up on your tone because he refused to see things as they actually were. He was convinced you loved him as much as he loved you. So in moments like these when you showed obvious signs of contempt, all he heard was what he wanted to hear ' I saved her from her old life, she's so happy that we're together now '

Silence fell over you when you weren't sure what to say or do except give an awkward and very uncomfortable laugh. Exhausted from being drained by him, you tried to create some distance. Walking over to the cake, the threat of tears blurred your vision for a second before you pushed them back.

'' I have a gift for you. ''

'' A gift? '' you said, a hint of caution in your surprised voice.

A cheeky smile tugged at the corners of his lips. '' Stay here. ''

You watched him as he went into where he slept. What he'd called ' your bedroom ' once you'd upgraded and no longer resisted his advances, that is. Your eyes began to show longing while staring at the half-open door, you didn't know how much longer you could take staying in the basement. Maybe you should just give in to him, even if it's all an act, so you could sleep like a normal person above ground.

Once again, you were snapped back and blinked to focus on Hyunjin as he emerged from the bedroom. He was holding a big wrapped square box in his hands, with a colored bow on top.

Coming over to where you were, he sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. You felt uncomfortable being so close to him. Fear struck you out of nowhere as a thought crept into your mind ' what if he expects something back for this? '.

You took it from his hands when he extended it to you. His eyes had a playful glint in them. With your shaky hands, you carefully unwrapped it little by little, like it was the most delicate thing ever.

Maybe you were trying to delay seeing what it was, but unfortunately, that time came not long after since you could tell Hyunjin was getting impatient so you had to speed up.

You prepared to fake glee when you lifted the lid off, instead what you saw caught you by surprise so much so that you let a small gasp slip out.

Hyunjin threw an arm around you, a sly smirk on his face as he pulled you towards him. You stared down at the box again, making sure you weren't mistaken. Unfortunately for you, you hadn't been; the hint of lace told you everything you needed to know. That foreboding feeling you had felt before was real, your worst nightmare was here. He had given you lingerie.

'' I love you...so, so much, '' he murmured into your ear.

You felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over you. You didn't even think it was possible to get closer than you'd already been in that small claustrophobic couch, but now when you could feel yourself being in contact with him all over, it felt even more suffocating; like you were physically glued to him.

You squirmed a bit and noticed his smile falling. '' You don't like it? ''

'' Hyunjin, it's- '' but no matter how hard you tried to smile, it twisted and ended up looking more like a grimace of pain, there was no hiding your true feelings now, and for the first time he had picked up on them.

'' Why? '' he snapped, causing you to flinch.

In the past, his eyes would've softened at what he called his mistakes, which was when he lost his temper. Now though, the rose-colored glasses were slowly sliding off and he couldn't do anything about it.

He looked around at everything he had done for you and suddenly it all started losing color. The candles on the cake blurred, the balloons looked droopy and the confetti looked bleak. The look on his face when his attention returned to you, was something you wouldn't forget for a long time.

'' How could you do this to me? ''

You stood up and tried getting away. He closed in on you, caging you between the kitchen island and him. You whimpered when you felt the sharp edge press into the low of your back.

'' Hyunjin, please, baby, '' you tried desperately.

'' You never loved me, did you? How could you use me like this! '' he screamed with so much passion that you shuddered.

You didn't know what to say or do. Desperately pinned by him, you felt there was little you could say to help your situation.

He tried to control his breathing while staring at you. Your own was very shaky as you tried deciphering whether he wanted you to speak or not.

'' Say something! '' he answered your thoughts.

His voice broke and tears started overflowing in his eyes. You felt bad for him even though you probably shouldn't have. He must've been so lonely to become so sick; telling himself whatever he wished was real, and now the illusion was shattered.

You felt your heart ache painfully at the sight of him losing control and sobbing uncontrollably. It made your own eyes fill up.

All it took was one comforting hand on his shoulder before he fell apart completely. He let himself lean on you and cried into your hair.

'' I'm sorry. ''

You rubbed his back.

'' Me too, '' he sniffled and pulled away.

Then you both laughed unexpectedly at the awkward atmosphere.

'' I just- '' he sighed, '' I just love you so much. ''

You scrunched your nose as you cringed, but you could still feel it in your heart to be true, so a small smile shot to your lips through all the tears.

'' I know, '' you mumbled. '' I know you do. ''

Too much, and that was the problem.

#yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere hyunjin #yandere skz #skz x y/n

[heartfullofleeches]

Rubik Dice

Yandere Entity (Entities?) Blurb

An: In a vent of frustration with a rubix cube - I present this. [Brief mentions of death]

-

Six people to a room.

It's too many.

Between damped sobs and their own; and the feud in their head, they couldn't think let alone say their piece. How did this happen? How could they make such a careless mistake? It was just supposed to be an evening stroll. It had been a week since they'd been out. The longest they'd ever been put away. Being cramped under so long they had to get some fresh air or risk clawing out their throat for a clean breath. It's so cramped in their head, in this room. Six people is far too many to be alone with unless the last person is....

"Nice job, idiot. We're in enough trouble as it is - now what are we going to do?."

It was an accident.

"Don't be so mean! We all have our lapses in judgement sometimes.... Even if they are kidnapping not-so-random strangers off the street."

Didn't you tell me to do it?

"Haha- You really fucked up tonight, didn't you?.. He saw your face. No choice, but to kill him less you never want to be seen in public again? All I'm sayin' is my blades should still be in the bag."

We can't kill any more people. Why are you always like this? Please, can't we just -

"Leave this to a roll of the dice?"

Indecisive on topics ranging from daily meals to torture methods; the trio concluded their shared consciousness to one, unified:

"No."

"Take out that dice and I'm breaking your fingers. Why do we always have to be responsible for your fuck ups?"

"Such a coward. You can crack a brick over someone's skull to shut them up, but you can't stab a knife through their neck to silence them?"

"You know, someone has been reeeeeally quiet since we got back home. We all know what that means."

Ragged breathing stills in the face of its captor. The rambling maniac themselves has quieted to nothing more than a stagnant shell. They both know what's to happen next. There's only one way out of this now. He can beg all he wants, but he'll tell. Even if they believe him the others won't. Neighbors. The police. You. Everything always came back to you. Mistakes, failures, hopes. You'd hate them - all of them - if you knew what took place in this basement. You'd never want to see any of them again.

"Maybe we should let him go... They're pretty hot when they're mad. I'm sure they'd forgive us eventually."

"Quiet."

It's quiet now. How soon the commotion ends when that side of them says their part. Their voice doesn't like nails on a chalkboard. So sweet it makes teeth rot. It isn't authoritative enough to make those who heard Trimble in their wake nor is it meek and pathetic enough for a second listen. It was the amalgam of those voices - the best pairs.

"Now, Blu. You know we can't do things alone that we haven't discussed with everyone else before hand. Would you please let me out so I can take care of our little problem?"

"...ok."

Trembling hands retrieve the fist-sized cube from its pocket; chipped nails slid into the crevice separating the second and third row of squares. Why were they the one that had to solve it? These puzzles were always so hard despite the countless times they've done it - teary eyes aiding little to their cause. It becomes easier once they slide the third white cube into row. Their eyesight and mental slate become clear, cheeks dry and devoid of the faded acne scars that plagued them. They step towards their captive who was busy squirming away from the figure now five inches taller and missing the hunch in their posture that left them wondering how they had managed to drag them here in the beginning. Gaze piercing and laser focus as opposed to cowering from each sniffle. With those pure white eyes it's impossible to tell where they're looking, but the threat of being the target of their glance was petrifying alone. They were blue not even a minute ago. It was like they were a different person entirely - body and soul.

A dice falls to their victim's feet.

"Six.... You were fortune this time."

Another object grabbed from their robes. A single line drawn across their neck - and it's back to five.

"I knew you had that on you...."

"Awww, what the hell - over already? Should've made them beg or at least give us their address."

"May they have a peace rest.... Is what I would say if it were someone else, haha!"

"I think I'm gonna be sick..."

The figure pockets their weapon and stands with a stretch, stepping away from the growing pool of blood. "That was messier than expected. What should we do now?"

"Clean up this mess."

"Check Y/n's page."

"Send them flowers!"

"And this guy's heart in a chocolate box."

"All good ideas. Why don't we do them all?... Besides that last one."

Five people to a room.

As it always should be - until you come home.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere god #tw yandere #yandere x darling

[undercoveravenger]

Hearts Aflame

Pairing: Peeta x Fire spirit!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Peeta bakes and meets a fire spirit who falls for him”

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here’s part 1 of your Halloween surprise, though there’s more to come. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Peeta had always been afraid of the basement in his parents’ house- dark and dingy and always a bit cold despite the fire raging away in the bulky furnace in the corner. Mostly though, he was afraid of whatever lurked within the flames in the furnace. He’d seen it once when he was a kid, glowing golden eyes watching him through the swirls of fire, only just able to make out the edges of the figure as it stepped forward, holding out a hand like it was going to get him. He’d turned and ran then, running away up the stairs and bolting the door behind him. Ever since then, he had done everything he could to avoid going back into the basement- offering to do his brothers’ chores in exchange to get one of them to go down there instead of him, hiding and enduring his parents’ punishments when he was found to get out of it. 

Now though, with District 12 in ruins and little but the foundations left of many of the homes of the village, he’s left waist deep in rubble and debris trying to take stock of what was salvageable and what would need to be completely rebuilt. He’s faced worse in the last year and a half of his life than what he thought he saw when he was little, so as much as unease is beginning to build in his stomach, he presses on, hefting charred beams out of the way as he tries to unearth what’s left of his family’s home.

His heart lurches in his chest as he moves a couple of splintered beams out of the way and reveals that same old furnace, the big glass window in the door spiderwebbed with cracks but otherwise unchanged. The fire inside had long gone out, but even still Peeta could see a faint glow from a couple of lightly burning embers. 

Almost without conscious thought, his fingers drift to the handle of the furnace. The cold metal bites into his hand just enough to get him to hesitate, but the promise of confronting his old fear has him pressing on, twisting the heavy metal handle and wrenching the door open. The gust of fresh air rushes over the coals, sending sparks skittering throughout the furnace and the few coals that had a bit of heat left flare up, shooting from the dim red they’d been glowing to a brighter gold and he can feel a bit of heat coming off of them now. 

As Peeta watches, something shifts within the waves of heat emanating off of the coals, shifting and rising from the pile of ashes to coalesce into something more tangible. It starts to take shape as it’s exposed to the air, smoke and sparks and flame cooling and hardening over into skin and hair and admittedly handsome features, completed by those glowing golden eyes that Peeta had remembered from all those years ago. 

The spirit steps forward, emerging from the furnace for the first time that Peeta knows about, standing tall before him with squared shoulders and a bright grin, and looking very nearly human for all that Peeta knows that he isn’t.

“Thank you,” the spirit says, voice low and warm like a fire crackling lowly in the hearth on a cold day. Comforting in a way you wouldn’t really think about but can’t help recognizing. “For freeing me.”

Peeta blinks then, startled by the calmness of the creature he’d feared all these years. “You were… trapped in there?”

He nods slowly, the glow in his eyes dimming to a soft (e/c) and Peeta really can’t find it in himself to be intimidated any longer, despite the creature’s power. “I was. I made a deal decades ago to help your father’s father succeed and he double-crossed me. I’d been there ever since, until you let me out.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peeta says because he can’t really think of anything else that he can say. “I’m sorry that I didn’t help you sooner.”

The spirit shrugs, bright grin sparking back to life and the spark in his eyes reigniting, “You didn’t know, I can’t hold it against you.” He takes a look around then, seemingly fascinated by all the changes from the last time he’d seen the outside world. He turns back to look at Peeta then, grinning softly as he takes Peeta’s hand in his, “There’s things that need taken care of now that I’m free, but I can assure you, this won’t be the last you see of me Peeta,” he presses a soft kiss to the back of Peeta’s knuckles and seems to spark along the edges of his figure, the firm outline of him breaking apart into little wisps and sparks of fire before Peeta’s eyes as he starts to dissipate, flaking away until all that’s left of the spirit are those glowing eyes, and then even those extinguish.

Feeling a little foolish for being afraid of the fire spirit all this time, Peeta finds himself hoping that he’ll keep his promise as he returns to his work.

#peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x male!reader #male reader x peeta #male!reader x peeta #hunger games x male reader #reader x hunger games #hunger games reader insert #hunger games masterlist #hunger games x reader #male reader insert #male!reader #male reader #male!reader insert #x male reader #x male!reader #x reader #hunger games au #hunger games x male!reader

[mrclownery]

some Oswald doodles from the other day!

I’ll have to collect my thoughts on how I want to go about the s2 Arkham plotline another time. But it’s pretty much same idea, with Strange conditioning Oswald to have an aversion to violence. HOWEVER. It is not using that stupid machine. I’m just gonna lean into the Clockwork Orange angle, which I’m fairly sure is what this plotline was always meant to reference. Being sat and forced and watch violent imagery and films, but unlike how they go about it in Clockwork Orange I think I’m gonna stick with shocks rather than drug induced nausea. That could be subject to change though, I need to do more research on the effectiveness of specific aversion therapies.

ALSO another detail that is changed with this arc is that Galavan is very much still around and involved! Oswald was admitted on ATTEMPTED charges. This entire program of “rehabilitation” with prisoners is going to be apart of Galavan’s mayoral campaign, something about being able to eradicate crime in Gotham. This gives reason for the entire experiment to take place, because the shit with Strange like,,, making monsters in the basement? Gone. That plotline is gone, sorry! To me that whole plotline is when the show started to go downhill. He is still very unethical and does MENTAL experiments and such purely for fun, but this version is just a littleeee more grounded than the show and other iterations. Oswald is essentially the face of the program, being paraded and such by Galavan for his campaign once she’s “cured”, and then subsequently tossed away with no aid. From that point it’s fairly similar to the show when she was in that weird state. Still a tad different though since the entire step family arc is also cut. I’ll have to get into that another time.

One last detail! The drawing at the bottom of her being nauseous is from her post-Arkham era before the breakdown. In this version, Ed does end up letting him actually stay for a bit rather than immediately kick her out (he DOES kick her out later on for being distracting to his work. That whole thing is something I’ll also get into another time). Little thing about her design I find neat there is that of course his hair is more tamed and whatnot, trying to be less crazy. But it’s also more masculine. I NEVER really draw Oswald with squared sideburns, when I think of her hair I think of triangles and such. But I’m leaning into the idea that Gotham is about 20 years stuck in the past, and asylums weren’t all that great for trans people. It’s fucked up but it is a part of the whole “treatment” and reintroduction to society as a functioning, “NORMAL” member of it. That means she’s got to look the part! No more pesky makeup and crazy hair (this does in fact make her mental breakdown haircut when he does eventually snap sooo important).

#gotham #nygmobblepot #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #gothambutnotreally #plot #au #gotham au #hugo strange #edward nygma #writing #the riddler

[mydeerfellow]

The Rubber Ball Of Uncontrollable Honesty

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

---

“Fuck you especially.”

The room was overwhelmingly, awkwardly silent as everyone collectively looked up from the bags of Lucifer’s old shit they’d come across in one of the storage rooms in the basement. Alastor was the last to look up, and seemed shocked that he had even said anything.

“Uh… thanks?” Angel blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility.

Alastor laughed nervously. “What? No! No, I just think you’re very strange and you make me incredibly uncomfortable! AHA! What the fuck?” He flailed and dropped the small rubber ball he had been messing with.

“Wow, that was… really, really honest, Alastor!” Charlie applauded awkwardly. “Um… I mean, maybe a little… abrupt…” She looked at Angel, who seemed torn between amusement and genuine surprise. “But! But, at least you were open, and… and you—”

“An’ he didn’t mean to say any of that shit. What the hell’s this thing, anyway?” Husk cut her off and stalked forward, eyeing the rubber ball on the floor. “You still feelin’ honest there, boss?” He looked at Alastor, who immediately pivoted to look away, but not before speaking: “Yooouuu— have enormous eyebrows!”

“You wanna fork it over now, or are we gonna wait for you to drop a bombshell?” Husk held out a hand, one brow raised, and for a moment it looked like Alastor might haul back and punch him. Then, he picked up the ball and put it squarely into Husk’s palm. “Ha ha! Now the curse is passed to you!”

“What kinda bullshit Curse Of The Mummy bullshit are you on right now? You can’t just pass it along to the next poor schmuck who tries to help! You know what? Fuck you. Figure it out your own fucking— ah well, shit.” Husk threw the ball at Angel, who caught it with a bit of a fumble.

“I honestly wouldn’t fuck anyone in the room besides you! And maybe him!” Angel pointed at Husk, then Alastor.

“Really?” Both of them said at the same time, looking speculative and mortified in turn.

“And Vaggie but only if she had a strap—”

“Gimme that, you dick.” Vaggie used a broom handle to knock the ball out of Angel’s hands and it rolled over to Niffty’s feet, who immediately held it above her head with a screech.

“Yes, dear?” Alastor patted her head as she wheezed excitedly.

“I would marry a bug if I could, just so I could stab him to death in his sleep and steal his money!”

The silence was overwhelming, and even Alastor looked somewhat put off by her… honesty. “Okay. That’s very disturbing and I think you could use some professional help.” He said at last. “Oh dear, it’s still working.”

“I got committment issues, so I’m never gonna actually fuck you.” Husk let Angel know, who nodded sagely. “That guy really fucked up my whole everything, honestly.” He pointed at Alastor, who raised his hands innocently.

“That’s okay, sex is more of a job anyway, let’s be real.”

“I wish I could stab a bad boy right now.” Niffty yelled.

“You know what, Niff? We’re gonna just… put a pin in that, okay?” Charlie laughed nervously and snatched the ball before anyone else could accidentally pick it up. “Sooo, anyway… I thought my mom got rid of this a long time ago. See, I had this kinda little lying issue when I was really little, so Dad made this!” She held it up and squinted at it. “It just makes you kinda wanna tell the truth. Or it used to, anyway. I think the spell got a little wonky, ‘cause I never… did what you guys are doing.” She looked over at Alastor and Husk, who were giving detailed descriptions of everything they didn’t like about each other while Angel offered background commentary on their personality flaws.

“If I had my time back I’d have drowned you in a washing machine when I had the chance!” Alastor said sweetly. “In fact, the only reason I don’t do that is because the dear, sweet child who runs this hotel would almost certainly be upset if I redecorated her foyer with—”

“That’s a fucking riot comin’ from a man who bends over backwards every time his floozy fuckin’ friend barks up your tree wantin’ a favor for dick-all!”

“At least I have a friend~”

“I got plenty of those, pal!”

Alastor pursed his lips, giving Angel a window of opportunity to jump in. “Aw, come on, maybe now’s not the time, huh? What’s the fun of a bitch fight when everybody’s gotta be stone-cold honest?” He held up his hands and smiled nervously, sidling between Alastor and Husk. “Nobody’s gonna come out on top, amirite? Come on, Charlie.” He waved at her behind his back and she jumped in valiantly.

“I think… we’re all probably going to say things we don’t really mean.”

“It’s a truth… ball… thing! Ain’t the point to be honest?” Husk spat, even as he backed off.

Charlie himmed and hawwed for a second. “Not really. Honesty’s kind of… hard. I don’t think it’s wrong to have a little bit of a… a… Vaggie, help. What am I saying?”

“Honesty’s got a lot of shades of gray. This shit just tries to make it black and white. I’m glad your Mom tossed it in here.” Vaggie covered Charlie’s hands, and the ball, with her own. “I think it’s probably better to just destroy it for good, though. Don’t you?”

The full body relaxation that Vaggie caused in Charlie was probably something that could be marketed and sold for a small fortune, just based on the broad smile on her face. Between their hands, the ball crumbled into dust.

“Well, I, for one, would fuck you any day of the week, and twice on Sunday!” Alastor exclaimed loudly, gesturing at Angel with both hands, who looked like he was seeing the sunrise for the first time. “Oh good, it worked!” He added after a pause, laughing uproariously at his own joke as he walked up the stairs. “I’ve got to go wash my brain with bleach, thank you all for this horrible experience!”

“What about once on Sunday?!” Angel yelled up after him, cackling when he was flipped off with both hands as the door slammed shut. “Ah, I’m wearing ‘em down. Just you wait.”

Husk shuddered and mock-gagged. “Maybe you should just stay down here an’ think about why you’re the way you are.” He patted Angel on the shoulder as he brushed past, following Alastor upstairs. “Niffty, don’t lick the dirt. You don’t know where’s it’s been.” He added, as Niffty was currently attempting to suction the truth ball dust off the unfinished floor.

“Cool, that’s my cue to skedaddle. C’mon, basket case, let’s go wash yer tongue before it falls off.” Angel picked up Niffty by the back of the shirt and tossed her up the stairs and into Husk’s arms like a football. “You two comin’ or what? Lezbehonest, this ain’t the most romantic setting, but you do you, babes.”

“Did you just— we’re holding hands, Angel!”

“Hey, whatever tickles yer pickle.” He swung the door shut behind him, and turned off the light for good measure, plunging them into darkness while they both yelled after him and scrambled blindly for the stairs.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #hazbin crack #This makes no sense #I'm just here for a good time #Hazbin Charlie #Hazbin Vaggie #Hazbin Niffty #Hazbin Husk #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #chaggie

[adaptacy]

You mind writing a little Johnny Slaughter thing where the reader is southern, too? Not from Texas, but maybe from a whole nother state like Louisiana or Mississippi. Like, *really* southern- thick drawl, sassy attitude n everything. If it's not too much to ask, could the reader first start out as a victim? But the thing is, they're not really one to mess with. They're witty, quick, and honestly a bit of an asshole. They're worried about themselves- going as far as to sacrifice the other survivors to ensure their own survival. Maybe even off one themselves, quickly realizing that they like killing just as much as the rest of the family. Love ur work! (Also, have you heard about the new Nancy leaks? I'm so excited to see her, you have no idea.)

OMG OFC WAIT THIS IS GONNA BE SO FUN!!

i love requests ongogngrij

also YES!! I love her so much!! i saw someone (i think it was creepling's post) about what Nancy would think about johnny getting a soft spot for someone and oh god the brain juice started flowing with that. i think her and johnny will def be my mains bcs ive been dying for another female family member that isnt sissy (no hate to sissy, but i tried her and she just wasnt as fun as johnny)

anyways anyways anyways, here you go! this is gonna be fluff, but if you want an nsfw part lmk and i can make that work ;) <333 hope you enjoy!!

this is gonna be kinda cheesy and cute aside from the death (whoops) but if i do an nsfw it'll be more serious. i just thought this would be a good opportunity to write a jaw-dropped johnny who's like "oh shit i think im in love"

"The hell you wantin' now?!" You snarled, cracking your neck as you squared off with a man nearly twice your size. He was used to this kind of fighting back, but there was something about your volume, your genuine anger that was new to him. It was intriguing. He almost wanted to study your brain before he ate it.

"All that, and you still got caught, sweetpea. Ain't that quite the case of karma?" Johnny chuckled, casually spinning his blade in his hand. Beneath his feet was a brunette boy, far too bloodied to be anywhere near alive. You didn't know him, didn't care about him, and you were far more concerned with your own well-being than the safety of some stranger.

"Don't tell me yer gettin' cocky now, pretty boy?" You laughed. You'd wrestled unruly gators twice his size, you could manage this egotistical megalomaniac. Hell, you didn't win a championship in bull-riding for sweet talking it.

"Ain't you a little too pretty to be talkin' so much?" Johnny pouted, sulking closer with his head tilted.

"Ain't you a little too muscular to be flirtin' with yer food?" You rolled your eyes, gripping the kitchen knife tighter in your hand. He'd been so preoccupied with the random teenagers to keep an eye on you, exactly as you'd planned. While they were playing duck duck goose in the rickety basement, you'd been granted easy access to the family house. And with it, the kitchen. And with that, the knives.

Your knife was much larger than his, and it made up for the size difference between your bodies. You knew for a fact he was underestimating you, most people did. They thought you were all bark and no bite, but your bark was only really half your bite.

"I've made pie with apples mer fearsome than you," you teased. The man furrowed his eyebrows, seeming a little stung by your remark.

"The hell you from, anyways?" He shook his head, still not letting his guard down, but he seemed to be a little less on the offense.

"Louisiana, born 'n raised. Ain't you able to tell? Or you too dumb for that?"

"Drop the damn knife," Johnny demanded, and you couldn't help but laugh. Literally laugh. Not just giggle, not just chuckle, not just scoff- full-on laugh at his attempt.

"Or what? You gon' stab me with that there lil butterfly blade?" You mused, waving a hand in the air. "I'd like to see you try," you added, your tone a little lower.

Johnny opened his mouth to reply, but there was a voice from behind him, instead. "You-- You killed them! You killed all of them!" A female yelled, sounding hurt and angry. Both of you paused your bickering to turn towards an angry girl, a small pointy bone in her hand. "You killed my sister!"

Johnny scoffed, looking the girl up and down. You eased up as well, watching the interaction. "Ain't you see we was talkin'? Could'a waited your darn turn, missy," you grumbled, finding the interruption rather rude. The girl turned to you, her eyes wide.

"You-- You're that bitch at the bar! You gave my friend a concussion!" She accused, and you scoffed.

"Now, I would neva-- Oh, oh, she's yer friend? Well ain't that right rich! Small world, ain't it?" You laughed, reminiscing on the bar fight you'd gotten into after some city boy claimed he could take more rye whiskey than you. You were practically raised- hell, made out of whiskey. You had to show him up, obviously. It wasn't your fault his little girlfriend couldn't handle him losing.

It seemed as if the girl couldn't choose between who to attack, but when she finally did make up her mind, you found yourself in the hot seat. You assumed it was because she was more confident taking down you than she was taking down the man, but it was merely another case of underestimation. She swung the bone shiv towards you, and although Johnny stepped forward to do something, you had it handled.

You were the last woman who needed a man to rescue her. 'Specially against a pipsqueak like this chick was. As she rushed forward, you drove the kitchen knife directly into the girls gut. You weren't sure what possessed her to make such a foolish move as to charge at a woman with a knife, but it made for an easy means of defense. The brunette gurgled as blood splattered onto your mouth, hitting your cheek as she fell over your arm, eventually collapsing.

You twisted the knife out of the girls gut, reaching up and wiping the blood off of your cheek-- or, trying to, anyways, but you only really managed to smear it on your face. You scoffed in irritation, wiping the blood off on your shirt, and doing the same with the knife. After all, you didn't want to risk damaging the blade from the blood. It seemed like a good quality vegetable slicer.

With a simple clearing of your throat, you shook the girl off of your leg, looking back at your opponent. He was frozen in place, his eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Now, where was we at? Them city girls just ain't got no manners. Momma neva raised 'em right," you complained, giving the kitchen knife a once-over before looking back at Johnny.

He blinked, remaining silent.

"You still home, or you gone out to get groceries?" You frowned, confused as to why he wasn't responding. You snapped your fingers and swung your weight onto one leg, placing your free hand on your hip. "Mister muscles? You missin' yer brain?"

"Who are you?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I was merely defendin' myself. Ain't nuthin' special 'bout it. Now, where's we at? You still wanna go, pretty boy?"

Johnny licked his lips, pulling his head back. He tucked his knife into his pocket, and a small smile spread over his face. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"Kidnappin' and threatenin' a woman ain't no way to get 'em in yer bed," you scolded, tilting your head. "I know yer mama's taught you better'n that. Ain't she?"

"You like rye whiskey?"

You smirked. "That's more like it. Count me in."

#johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter fluff #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter headcanons #tcm #tcm game #johnny slaughter x southern reader #reader is a girlboss #reader dont need no man #shes still gon get one tho #thank you anon #this was so fun to write #adapting to johnny slaughter

[omgkatherine01]

Between Your Wings - Chapter 2: Walk Like Them

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female reader x Rick Grimes (slow burn)

Please comment, like and share

After a little while, Merle was now calm, but Rick didn't release him from the handcuffs. After making sure T-Dog was okay and helped him sit on the ground and lean against the wall, you went to look down at the streets, there were walkers all around. Andrea joined you and she frowned lightly as she spoke, "My God, it's like Times Square down there."

"Yeah," you muttered and turned to your group.

Morales looked at T-Dog, who was holding the CB walkie, "How's that signal?"

"Like Dixon's brain--Weak," T-Dog said, making the older Dixon show him the middle finger. 

Morales sighed, "Keep trying."

"Why?" Andrea asked, turning to them, "There's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing."

Andrea walked past them and bend down to unzip your backpack. 

Morales looked at Rick, "Got some people outside the city is all. There's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream."

"Then she's right," Rick said as you sat down next to T-Dog, "We're on our own. It's up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that," Merle spoke up, "These streets ain't safe in this part of town from what I hear." He looked at Andrea, "Ain't that right, sugar tits?" You raised an eyebrow and rolled your eyes as he continued, "Hey, honeybunch, what say you get me out of these cuffs, we go off somewhere and bump some uglies? Gonna die anyway."

"I'd rather," Andrea told him, standing up and walking to your side.

"Rub muncher," Merle said, "I figured as much."

"'The streets ain't safe,'" Morales said, "Now there's an understatement."

"What about under the streets?" Rick asked and you frowned as you thought back. "The sewers?"

Morales frowned and looked at Glenn, "Hey, Glenn, check the alley. You see any manhole covers?"

Glenn walked to the other side of the roof, looking down the alley. He turned and walked back closer, "No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are."

"Maybe not," you said, making everyone look at you. You got up and continued, "Old building like this built in the '20s. Big structures often had, uh, drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down in the subbasements."

Rick raised his eyebrows, impressed, "How do you know?"

You shrugged lightly, "I've read about those structures one time... I have a photographic memory... I remember I've seen one in this building when I scoped this place up with Glenn."

Rick nodded lightly and looked at Morales before he looked back at you, "All right, then, lead the way."

You glanced at Glenn and then walked past him to the door. Rick, Glenn, Andrea and Morales followed you into the building. You walked all the way below to the basement, and you led everyone to the sewer entrance you memorized.

"This is it," you said as you peered inside with everyone, "It's the only thing in the building that goes down. But I've never gone down it. Who'd want to, right?"

When you met with silent, you glanced up and around to see they all were looking at you. Glenn glanced from everyone's faces to yours. You looked from them to the entrance, nervously, "Oh..."

"We'll be right behind you," Andrea assured you.

"No, you won't," you said as you looked at her, "Not you, I--"

"Why not me?" Andrea asked, cutting you off with a frown, "Think I can't?"

You hesitated to speak, but tried, "No. It just..."

Rick nodded to you in encouragement, "Speak your mind."

You let out a soft breath and looked around at everyone, "Look, until now I always came here by myself, or with only Glenn, in and out, grab a few things, no problem. The first time we bring a group, everything goes to hell."

Glenn nodded and you looked back at the rest, "No offense... If you want me to go down this hole, fine, but only if we do it my way." 

Rick nodded, "All right."

"It's tight down there," you said as you glanced back inside, "If I run into something and have to get out quick, I don't want everyone all in there get stuck. I'll take one person." You looked at Rick, "Rick, I've seen how you shot, and I'd feel better if you were out in that store watching those doors, covering our ass." You looked at Andrea. "And you've got the other gun, so you should go with him." You looked at Glenn, "Glenn, you be my wingman, sounds okay?" Glenn nodded, and you looked at Morales, "Morales, you stay here, something happens, yell down to us, get us back up here in a hurry."

"Okay," Morales agreed with a nod.

"Okay, everybody knows their jobs," Rick said.

You looked at Glenn, who nodded. "All right," you said and put your flashlight in your mouth before climbing into the ladder and started to climb down.

Glenn copied you and followed you down the ladder.

You reached to the bottom and looked up to see Andrea and Rick walking away. "Careful down there, guys," Morales said as he peered down at you and Glenn.

"Yeah," you muttered as you and Glenn peered into the dark sewers. You glanced behind you at Glenn who shrugged lightly, and you turned back to the darkness as you shined your flashlights.

"Come on," you said softly and took a couple of steps forward before you lighted your flashlights down at a rat, who squealed and walked away. 

You and Glenn followed it for a few minutes all the way to a grate. "Hey, can you cut through it?" Glenn asked.

"If we had a blowtorch," you answered with a soft sigh, and rubbed the back of your head. "I, uh, I don't have the items to make one like I did one time."

"What about Dale's hacksaw?"

"It won't do," you answered. You heard noises from the other side of the grate and shined your flashlight forward. A walker turned around to look at you and Glenn, eating a rat. It growled and reached forward, making you and Glenn jump back even if the walker couldn't get to you.

"Come on, come on," Glenn said as he grabbed a hold of your arm. He tugged you back and you both ran back all the way to the ladder. "Up, up."

Glenn moved so you climbed up first, while he glanced back to check the dark tunnel. "What happened?" Morales asked when you got up. Glenn got out after you a moment after.

"We can't get through," you said and walked past him to get to Rick and Andrea. You heard them following you and you rushed into the clothing store, just in time to see walkers had gotten through the outside doors and hitting the double doors.

"What did you find down there?" Rick asked.

"Not a way out," Morales told them.

"We need to find a way..." Andrea trailed off. "Soon."

"Come on," you said as you grabbed into Rick's arm and tugged him to the backdoor. You all ran up to the staircase and back to the roof where Merle and T-Dog were still there. Rick peered around the streets and then turned to you when you stepped over, "Got binoculars, by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah," you answered as you walked toward T-Dog who had your backpack near him. You opened it and diged inside. You pulled the black binoculars and walked back to Rick. "Here." You held it out and he took it. 

"Thanks," he said and looked through them for a moment before he pointed to the side, "That construction site, those trucks." He held the binoculars to Morales, who then looked through them, "They always keep keys on hand."

Morales looked down the streets with a frown, "You'll never make it past the Walkers."

Rick looked over him at you, "You got me out of that tank."

"Yeah, but they were feeding," you reminded him, "They were distracted."

"Can we distract them again?" Rick asked.

"Right," Merle spoke up, and you all looked over at him. "Listen to him. He's onto something. A diversion, like on 'Hogan's Heroes'."

"They're drawn by sound, right?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, like dogs," you said, "They hear a sound, they come."

"What else?"

"Aside from they hear you?" Morales asked, "They see you, smell you and if they catch you, they eat you."

"They can tell us by smell?" Rick asked.

"Can't you?" Glenn asked.

"They smell dead, we don't," Andrea said as Rick thought of a plan, "It's pretty distinct."

You studied Rick's expression and you frowned, "You have something on your mind, don't you?" He looked over at you and you pointed at his face, "That face right there, my dad had the same expression when he was up to no good."

That comment made him smile a little and he patted you on the back, "Come on." He walked back to the door, and you glanced at everyone before you all followed.

"Hey! Wha' about me?!"

You turned to Merle and shrugged, "Just... stay here." He sent you a glare and you quickly followed everyone to the door, you looked at T-Dog who smirked at you for the comment you gave the older Dixon. You let out a chuckle as you closed the door, and you shook your head as you both walked down the stairs.

Your smile disappeared when you got to the clothing store again and saw the walkers still trying to get into the store. You tensed and turned to Rick, watching as he grabbed coats and gloves. "What are we doing?" you asked.

"You and I--were going to go out there, and get that van, covered in Walkers' blood," Rick said as he handed you a coat and a pair of gloves.

You froze as you held the items to your chest. "What?" you asked softly, hoping you heard wrong.

Rick didn't answer and simply handed the rest of the coats and gloves to Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, and Morales, all four of them were staring at him like he just made the most stupid and dangerous plan ever... which for you it was.

"If bad ideas were an Olympic event, this would take the gold," Glenn said, glancing at you nervously.

"He's right," Morales said and took a step to Rick, "Just stop, okay? Take some time to think this through."

"How much time?" Rick asked. "They already got through one set of doors, that glass won't hold forever."

Morales looked at you and then quickly at Rick, taking a deep breath, then he spoke, "I'll go with you then instead of Audery."

"No," you said quickly, making them all look at you. You nodded, "I'll go, I'll do it."

Rick nodded but the others were worried, which you appreciated their concern. "You don't have to," Andrea told you.

"I'm faster. I'll go with him." You looked at Glenn and nodded. "I got this." You looked at Rick, "But... I kinda of regretting saving your ass back there."

Rick didn't seem to take offend by that and just gave you a small smile and walked past you to the back door. You all put on the coats and gloves as you took a deep breath and you all followed.

Glenn opened the back door, and Rick and Morales ran out, and grabbed one of the Walkers that Morales and T-Dog killed, drugging the body inside.

Glenn closed the door, and you walked to the side. "Here, honey," Andrea told you as she stood behind you and lifted your braid hair up to the top of your head, and placed Glenn's hat on your head.

"Thank you," you said softly, and she rubbed your back before stepping away.

You all looked down at the body while Rick put on a face shield, smashing a fire axe box with a crowbar. He grabbed the fire axe and walked back to your side.

Rick held the fire axe up, about to chop the dead Walker but he stopped. He put down the axe and went through the body's pockets. You watched as he pulled out a wallet and looked through. "Wayne Dunlap," he read, "Georgia license. Born in 1979." He handed a card to Glenn, who stood next to you, "He had $28 in his pocket when he died... And a picture of a pretty girl. 'With love, from Rachel.' He used to be like us--Worrying about bills or the rent or the Super Bowl. If I ever find my family, I'm gonna tell them about Wayne."

Rick put the wallet back into Wayne's pocket, standing up, putting on his face shield. "One more thing..." Glenn trailed off, "He was an organ donor."

There was a moment of silence, before Rick started to hack away at the Walker, making you all look away in disgust.

"Madre de Dios," Morales muttered.

"Oh God," Glenn said, looking away.

You looked away again when Rick chopped again. You closed your eyes and listened to him chopping. 

"Keep chopping," you heard Rick's voice and opened one eye to see him handing the face shield and the axe to Morales.

Glenn groaned in disgust, "I am so gonna hurl."

"Later," Rick told him, as Morales started to chop the Walker a few times. "Everybody got gloves? Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes."

You froze when everyone started to dig into the body. "Oh, God," you groaned in disgust and tried not to move when you saw Andrea and Glenn approaching you with the guts. "Oh, God."

You closed your eyes and felt them rubbing them on your coat. You lifted your head up and opened your eyes and glanced down at Rick; Morales and T-Dog were rubbing guts on him as well, and you quickly looked up.

"Oh, God," Glenn said.

"This is really bad," you said and lowered your head down to see him and Andrea still putting more guts around you, "Oh, this is really bad!"

"Think about something else--Puppies and kittens," Rick said to you.

"Dead puppies and kittens," T-Dog muttered quietly yet you heard him. You tried to think only about Max, but you couldn't, all you could think about is the walker's guts rubbing on your body, and the smell.

"God!" you said and quickly turned around and vomited.

"That is just evil. What is wrong with you?" you heard Andrea snapping.

"I'm sorry," you muttered and cleaned your lips with your cleaned gloves.

"It's okay, honey," Andrea said as she rubbed your back. "You alright?"

You hummed as you nodded and turned back. "Sorry," you muttered again. 

"You suck," Glenn said, looking at Rick.

"Do we smell like them?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Andrea answered. "Audrey." You looked at her, and saw she pulled off one of her gloves and had her gun in her hand. "Just in case." She lifted the side of your coat and tucked the gun in your pants.

You nodded in thanks as Rick spoke, "If we make it back, be ready."

"What about Merle Dixon?" T-Dog asked.

Rick pulled off one of his gloves, digging into his pocket. He pulled out the handcuffs key and tossed it to T-Dog. T-Dog looked at it and walked away. Rick looked at Morales as he put back his gloves, "Give me the axe." Morales handed him the axe. "We nee--we need more guts."

Rick started to chop again, and you quickly looked away.

"Oh, man."

****

"Oh, I hate you, I really really hate you," you said softly as Rick put the walker's hands around your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said as Glenn handed you a crowbar and him the fire axe, "Now, come on."

"I can't believe I agreed to it in the end," you muttered as you and him walked to the door.

Morales opened the door and you and Rick walked out slowly. You saw two walkers walking around the area and you and Rick exchanged a quick look before you both mimicked the walkers. The Walkers briefly looked at you but then turned away.

You closed your eyes briefly in relief but opened them quickly. You dragged yourself underneath a bus before coping with how they walk with Rick. You glanced around at the many, many walkers wandering around, as you walked along side with Rick.

"I can't believe it's working," you whispered.

"Don't draw attention," Rick whispered. A Walker walked between the two of you, looking back and forth from you to Rick before walking past.

You heard above you the thunders, and a moment after you felt water drops. You glanced up and saw the sun had disappeared behind thick, dark clouds. Oh no, oh no! you thought as you glanced around nervously as the rain started pouring down.

The rain will wash away the scent from your blood-soaking coats! You realized that as you noticed a few walkers staring at you and Rick.

You glanced at Rick nervously, "The smell is washing off. Isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Rick assured you, but you knew he was just saying it to try and keep you calm, which wasn't working when you both noticed a walker's stare lingering on him. "Well, maybe."

As more guts washed off, you knew the walkers realized that you and Rick were alive when one of them charged at you.

You jumped back and Rick crushed its head with the axe. "Run!" he said as he grabbed your arm and you both ran down the street with the walkers chasing after you. Rick killed a few of them before you reached to the fence blocking off the parking lot from the rest of the street. The two of you made it into a large van just as the fence collapsed and the walkers broke through.

"Go, go!" you said, and Rick drove back out from the parking lot and away from the walkers. "Oh, God. Oh, God. They're all over that place."

"You need to draw them away," Rick said, "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store--That area? That's what I need cleared. Raise your friends. Tell them to get down there and be ready."

You looked at him with a frown, "And I'm drawing the geeks away how? I--I missed that part."

"Noise."

You looked around the empty street and spotted a sport car. "Oh..." You looked at Rick, "Can I have your part of this plan?"

Rick raised his eyebrow, slightly amused. "You got this."

You leaned back and looked around the area and out of your window. You quickly got out and ran to the red sport car. You smushed the window of the driver side with the crowbar, tripping the alarm, and swiftly reached inside and unlock the door before getting in and hot wiring it.

"Yes," you said and closed the door. You leaned out the window and signaled Rick. He nodded and you leaned back and speeded out of the street, distracting walkers around the area.

You lifted your walkie-talkie and spoke to the others on the roof, "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store facing the street, meet us there and be ready!"

You drove near the store, and stopped, "Come on. Come on. Get closer. Get closer. Come on. Come on."

Most of the Walkers came to the car and you quickly drove backward. The walkers followed you and you continued to drive. You drove off and away from the street and glanced to the mirrors before holding up the walkie-talkie, "Everyone safe?!"

There was a moment of silent before you heard Glenn's voice, "Yeah! We all good! Except... Merle is still trap on the roof."

You looked forward in sadness, you didn't like Merle one bit, but his brother on the other hand...

Daryl will not like this.

You drove out of the city and into the highway but stopping. You quickly got out and popped the hood of the car. You opened it and quickly looked around to stop the alarm. You found the part and took it out, stopping the annoying alarm.

You through the part to the side and moved back into the car. You drove without stopping all the way to your camp. You saw everyone rushing forward as you stopped the car in the middle of the camp.

You leaned over the door and smiled teasingly at Lori who was the closest, "Hey, my sexy girlfriend!"

Lori laughed and shook her head as you got out of the car. "Nice car," she complimented as she stepped closer, and you both embraced.

"Thanks, I stole it," you said, chuckling as you broke the hug, and she laughed.

"Audrey!" You looked over to Shane and watched Carl running toward you with Max, who barked in excitement to see you.

"Hey, bud!" you said, kneeling down and holding out your arms. Carl jumped into your arms and hugged you tightly while Max jumped to your knee and barked in your face, making you laugh.

"Where's Andrea? Why is she not with you?"

You let go after a moment of Carl and stood up before looking at Amy, Andrea's sister. "She's okay. Everyone's okay. Except Merle."

"Then why is she not with you?" she asked about her sister before looking over your shoulder. You turned and watched the van approaching and parking at the entrance. Andrea was the first one who jumped from the back of the van, and you watched the sisters reunited.

You watched everyone reuniting before glancing at Lori to see her taking her son to the RV. Carl told you the day you met that his father was shot before the outbreak and was in a coma, but now he was told he was dead.

You looked down at Max and picked him up into your arms. Max was a huge help with the kids; playing with him was a good distraction for them, especially to Carl.

"Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello," you head Morales calling out, and you looked to the van. Rick got out of the driver side, and you saw his expression turn to shock and disbelief. You followed his gaze to Shane, who stared at him in shock.

"Dad!"

You looked toward Carl and saw him running toward Rick with a huge smile, and Lori followed. Rick took a few steps forward before he bend down and pulled Carl into his arms. You stared in shock as you realized Rick was the father Carl spoke about.

"You're kidding me," you said softly, and couldn't help but smile softly with the rest of the group as Rick embraced Lori and Carl.

#the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd imagine #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfiction #twd rick #rick grimes icons #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #andrew lincoln #norman reedus

[miheartsedthings]

Song: Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

Billy x Shy (slightly) Nyctohobic Reader SFW (Minors DNI)

Summary: You and Billy only met a week ago (the day you started community service) and you never talk to him, that is until the night you're cleaning the community center and the power goes out. 

My submission to @corroded-hellfire Valentine's event! ;)

Words: 3,365

“It's your own fault, but 500 hours for parking tickets is fucking bullshit.” 

Carmen takes a generous pull from her cigarette, a bright red cherry glowing in the dark. She draws the smoke in deep and lets it billow from her nostrils like some great dragon. As if it were purer than the air around you. The baseball field is dark, an orange lamp post on the little street beyond the fences. You sit on the ice-cold bleachers, chill biting right through your thin sweatpants and pullovers, numbing you to the bone. 

“I can't believe you're going.” 

You say to the dark. You reach for the bottle of crown between your sneakered feet and take another swig. 

“Yeah well, no one told you to get community service right after graduation. Otherwise, you could start with the rest of us.” 

“Who knew Hawkins took parking so seriously.”

She chuckled, her face obscured by smoke and darkness. She chuckled and didn't even cough.

“Talk to Hargrove yet?”

You took another long drink and cringed a little. 

“Nope.” 

She chuckled again, but louder, blossoming into a full-hearted laugh. 

“Seriously? You lost that bet fair and square. If you don’t tell him, it’s friendship treason.”

“I swear, I’ll tell him.”

“How?” 

“I’ll figure it out.”

She shook her head, then put out her spent cigarette and grabbed your hand. You walked that way; hands clasped, joints stiff with cold, the way you had every night since graduation a few months back. Be it from parties or hours on the bleachers talking about any and everything. Carmen had been your best friend since moving there from Chicago mid-semester. In the morning, she'd be going off to college and you already missed her so much it made your throat ache.

You stopped on her darkened lawn and she turned to you. 

“Do me a favor,” she said, fishing her crumpled pack of lucky strikes from her front pocket and slapping them into your hand. “Keep my last lucky.” 

You look at the white and red pack, it's plastic crinkled, the integrity of the carton broken down into a soft, malleable thing. 

“For luck?” The question isn't a question and you smile when you look at her, pocketing the pack. A slow grin spreads across her face. 

“Hell yeah. Good fuckin luck.”

 

. . .

The clouds are dark and low, threatening rain at any minute. 

“It’s child endangerment having us out here in a storm.” Ricky, one of the other ‘volunteers’ sneers this at the probation officer, interrupting his speech about your assignment. 

The officer cuts his eyes at him. 

“A, you’re working inside the community center. B, you’re 23. All of you are old enough to know better.”

You're messing with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your orange jumper. The sky does look sinister, and you’re here much closer to sunset than normal. The community center wouldn’t reschedule their afterschool program, leaving the group to wait until dinnertime. 

“You’ll work in teams of two. Two on the second floor, two on the main, two in the basement.” 

The girl beside you raises her hand, her pink manicure glittering in the sun. 

“My doctor says I can’t be in dark, dusty places. I have a note.” 

The officer regards her with annoyance. 

“Jess and Thomas, take main,” he says, “David and Ricky you two have the attic, and.” 

It’s then that he looks around, realizing you're the last person there. He rolls his eyes. “Anybody seen Hargrove today?”  

Of the fourteen days of service, Billy has only shown up about 8, and only half of those was he on time. When you’d first moved to Hawkins, Billy stood out immediately. The California transplant who took over the school. It’s a shame he insisted on acting like a dickhead because he was a serious hottie, and there was a lack of eye candy around here. In any case, your paths never crossed. However, that didn’t stop you from admiring him from afar and developing a strong, embarrassing crush. Then, there’s the thing only Carmen knows about. The it you're required to confess to him. Somehow.  

The probation officer goes inside to make a phone call and the rest of you relax. You and Jess hop up to sit on the railing along the wheelchair slope. 

“You think he’s coming today?” You ask her. She’s adjusting her jumpsuit, trying to make it look more flattering somehow. 

“If he does can we switch partners? All Tommy talks about is friggin Dukes a Hazard.” 

You laugh. 

“Be my guest, his energy is a bit much for me, anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah.” her eyes twinkle mischievously “It’s a lot, right? But in a good way. Like a mouth full of hot pizza.” 

“You like that feeling?”

“You don’t? It’s nice to be a little overwhelmed sometimes.” 

Just as she’s saying this, you get a whiff of smoke, and then she yelps, scrambling away from the rail and grabbing her buttcheek. Billy stands on the other side, grinning, a mostly-gone cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“What?” he asks “Too much?” 

His jumpsuit is hanging down, bunched around his waist. His white tee shirt is taut across his chest. Jess giggles and goes back to lean against the bar, she and Billy getting close. 

“You like sneaking up behind girls and pinching their asses?” 

“Only the cute ones.” 

“Mr. Hargrove,” The probation officer is making his way over and you hop down from the railing “Nice of you to join us. You’re in the basement.” 

“Um, actually, mister," Jess says "Y/N said she doesn’t mind switching partners.”

“Well, actually, I mind. Hargrove and L/N, in the basement.” 

. . .

Billy is whistling while he lazily pushes a skinny vacuum across the short blue carpet. It had started raining the moment we got inside and it raged against the little storm windows near the ceiling. The basement is a small space with a chunky green couch in front of an old TV. Shelves of board games line one wall while on the other is a shelf of movies and an old stereo. You're dusting off the shelf and then move to the stereo, its buttons are all dirty and gross. 

“God, this thing is old.” You say, not expecting Billy to hear you, but he does. He switches off the vacuum and comes over, leaning down over your shoulder to look at it. He's close enough to feel his body heat. You smell his cologne and the familiar cigarette smoke. 

He glances at you, and even though you look away quick you know he caught you staring.

“Let's see what we got.” 

He flicks on the stereo and navigates to a station blaring metal.  

“Fuck yes,”

He cranks the music up and starts bopping his head and swirling his hips. You can't help but laugh, and when he sees you looking pleased he smirks and hams it up even more. 

“This is not a party!” The parole officer yells down the steps as he comes down. He rounds the corner but Billy doesn't bother to stop dancing, in fact he turns and aims his rolling hips at the officer. 

“What's wrong with a little party?” He asks.

You turn the radio off and Billy looks at you like he's surprised you're obeying. You look away. 

“Thank you, Ms. L/N. Now, I'm gonna step away for a little while, I'm needed at the courthouse. Can I trust you two to stay down here until the job is done?” 

“When exactly is that?” You ask. “I mean, are we supposed to be dusting everything? Cuz that's gonna take all night.” 

He sighs. 

“Look, just straighten up, clean the windows, make it look nice.” 

“Do we have glass cleaner?”

“Are you gonna sass me all night?” 

The officer’s tone clips, suddenly, stinging. It makes you look down. 

“We got it covered, why don't you run along?” Billy says, already turning his back on the officer, who stares angrily after him for a moment before leaving. 

You get back to dusting, embarrassed into silence. Billy wasn't even pretending to work anymore. He rifled through the board games and then sauntered over to the movies and did the same. 

“What’d you do, anyway?” He asked, coming up beside you. You looked up at him, and he smirked down at you like he expected something bad. 

“Parking tickets.” 

His face fell. 

“Fuckin tickets? Damn, and here I thought you were interesting.”

Your stomach dropped. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” You moved over to the TV and started brushing it off with a paper towel. “What'd you do? Fight somebody?” 

“Is that what I look like, to you?” He teased, following you, “You think I'm some jerk who goes around lookin for fights?” He circled in front of you, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling. 

“Ya know,” He leaned against the TV, looking up at you with those ocean-blue eyes. “I remember you.” 

You stare at him in disbelief for a moment, flustered by his undivided attention. 

“Yeah?” You got back to dusting, nervous about the way your blood was rushing. “Well, I was around, and you were around,” you rambled. He closed the distance between you again and snatched the paper towel from your hand. Balling it up, he tossed it around his back and caught it over his shoulder like it was a tiny basketball. 

“You gave a speech at that assembly.” 

“You remember that?” 

You try to hide how pleased you are.  

“What, among all the other thrilling shit going on at Hawkins High?”

“I thought you were more of a ‘parties and babes’ kinda guy.”

“Yeah, well. That shit gets boring, too.” 

He takes a step closer, trailing his gaze up to your eyes and lingering there with intention. He can tell that his presence makes you nervous, and in the quiet moment that settles, he smirks a little. Thunder claps, making you yelp and jolt, you’re so close to Billy that you can’t help bumping into his chest. He catches you, his hands on your arms. 

“Whoa,” he says with a chuckle “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little storm?” 

You push away from his touch. 

“Of course not.”

You went to the little bucket of cleaning supplies near the vacuum to look for glass cleaner you already knew wasn’t there. It was dark out, and you were trying not to make it obvious that you were worried about getting home. The bucket offers paper towels, wet wipes, and a couple of sponges. What exactly are you expected to do with this?

“I thought you’d be back in Chicago by now.” 

Billy was settling onto the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Wind howled against the building and you looked to the storm window just in time to see a flash of lightning. Good, this time when the thunder comes you won’t jump like an idiot. 

“Yeah, me too. But we’re residents now, and there’s no way my parents can afford out-of-state tuition.” You sigh and look back to the bucket, eager for something to keep you busy. “Not like I miss it, anyway.” 

“Not a big city girl?” 

“The weather sucked half the year, and people were weird. Maybe it was just my school but it seemed like everyone wanted to take advantage whenever they could. Just trying to use you and get to the next best thing.” 

“Sounds like LA. Buncha wannabes.” 

“I thought you came from the OC?”

A slow smile drew across his lips. 

“Torrence,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “What else do you think you know about me?” 

Your secret flashed through your mind. 

“I’m sure you know what kind of reputation you have.”

“Fuck,”  He grumbled, half a broken cigarette between his fingers. 

“Your last?” 

“Wouldn’t be my life if it wasn’t my fuckin last.” 

Your hand went to your pocket. Thank you, Carmen. 

“Here.” You went to him and offered the pack. He looked up at you, the split cigarette hanging from his perfect lips. He smirked and accepted the cigarette.

“Look at you, bein unpredictable.”

You gave up on cleaning and sat next to him. Just as he was lighting the cigarette, the room went dark. You jolted, letting loose a little yelp. Upstairs, Jess shrieks. The room is so dark for a moment you can’t see anything, then Billy flicks his lighter and you can see a little of his face. 

“Knew it. You’re scared.” 

“We should check on Jess.” 

You stood, but there was barely any light coming in from the two storm windows and you could barely see in front of yourself. Billy’s hand came to your waist and you jolted again. 

“It’s just me,” he said calmly, wrapping his arm around your waist, which you allowed. Let’s face it, you're creeped out and his body feels solid and warm. The two of you make your way to the stairs, only to reach the top and find the door locked. 

“Jess?” 

You knocked hard, hoping she could hear you. 

“Y/n?” Her voice came to the door. You heard her try the handle. “I can’t open it!” she yelled, on the verge of panic. 

“All the doors up here are locked,” Tommy added. “Dave and Rick are stuck in the attic, too.” 

“Dammit! I can’t be under this pressure!” Jess cried. 

“Do you have to yell?”

“Shut up Tommy!” 

 The two went on bickering on the other side of the door. 

“Why don’t you two freaks break a window or somethin?” Billy yelled, shutting them up. 

“We-we’ll give it a shot,” Tommy called back “Give us a sec.” 

Their voices receded, Billy groaned and the cherry end of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag. you were close in the narrow stairway, his arm still around you, as if it belonged there. 

“Since when d’you smoke?” He asked. 

“I don’t. That’s courtesy of Carmen Bailey.” 

“Ah, yeah. I remember her. Her mom’s at the pool every day in the summer.” 

The thought makes your stomach fall.

“Did you ever…?”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smirking. 

“Just another rumor.” 

You wonder what would happen if you told him right now. It could go well. If what the woman said so long ago had been true, then it had to go well. But what if she was lying? A shiver ran through you. 

“You cold?”

“Hm? No. I’m fine.”

He pulled you closer, your shoulder against his chest. God, he’s so warm. A loud bang made you jolt again and Billy stroked his thumb against your side, filling the stairwell with lucky strike smoke. What a thing when cigarette smoke becomes comforting. Another loud bang. No shattering glass. 

“It didn’t work!” Jess cried with desperation in her voice. 

“Fuck,” Billy mumbled. 

“What do we do?” Tommy asked. 

“Just wait for the officer to come back.” You said. 

“Have you seen what it looks like out there? He’s not coming back. Fucker just left us.” Jess might’ve been crying real tears. 

“At least you’re not in the basement,” You added with a little laugh. 

“As if I wouldn’t kill to trade places with you.” She said. 

You and Billy went back down to the couch and settled in. Officially stuck. He kept his hand on you in some way, on your hip and then on your thigh when you sat down. You sat together in silence, and you watched the glow of his cigarette wind down to his lips until it was gone. You don’t know where he put it out. Then there was just the sound of the storm. The rain and an occasional flash of lightning. The thunder which made you tense for just a moment each time. Billy could feel that tension, you knew because every time he would message your thigh, reminding you he was there.  

“I’m really glad you never hooked up with Carmen’s mom. She’s my best friend and it’d be really awkward.” 

He laughed. 

“Best friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Since day one. You weren’t here the first couple of days I started but it was weird. This town treats new people like aliens.” 

“Think I don’t know? Weirdass cornfield fucks.” 

You belly-laughed and he chuckled a bit, too. 

“Well, to be fair they didn’t stand a chance against you. Nothing could’ve prepared them for hurricane Hargrove.” 

“Hurricane Hargrove,” he said, testing the nickname “I like it. You came up with that?”

“It was here when I arrived. You’re the best thing about this place.” 

You hadn’t meant for it to sound so intimate, but suddenly there was just the sound of the rain and something fluttered in your chest. Billy’s hand moved a little higher on your thigh, kneading the muscle. 

“Anyway, Carmen’s great. That’s why I hate not starting classes with her. We’re supposed to share a dorm.” He doesn’t answer, his hand is still feeling your thigh and your face is getting hot. “Are you excited for school?”

“Did you hear the question you just asked?”

You laughed nervously. 

“I just mean, aren’t you looking forward to getting out of Hawkins? Starting your life somewhere else? I mean, what do you wanna be?”

He sighed. 

“Uh, fuck, I don’t know. I wanna…not be a prick.” 

“Decent goal.” 

He scoffed. 

“Should be easy, right?” He was quiet for a moment, and in the quiet, your hand came down over his. Your eyes were adjusting and you could make out his outline. That curly hair. “I’m here ‘cause of my dad. We got in a fight…that asshole started it but the second I fought back he said ‘You’re a man now, you’re gonna face real consequences for your actions’...called the cops. Charged me with assault.” 

You stroked your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Sounds like a piece of shit.” 

“Biggest I’ve ever met.” he said, “So, I don’t know where I’ll go, what I’ll do. I’m just not stayin here. And he’ll be lucky if he sees me on his deathbed.”   

You're filled with the urge to lift his hand to your lips, to kiss the length of his arm, and find his mouth in the dark. Would you get that far? Would he stop you? 

“There’s something I should tell you.”

The words popped out on their own, setting in motion this confession you couldn’t hold in. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, “Tell me.”

You took a breath. 

“Promise not to laugh.”

“That bad?”

“Please. Promise.”

“I swear.”

He squeezed your hand with a reassuring firmness.

“My parents took me to Navy Pier when I turned eleven and I saw a psychic there. She told me,” A rush of nerves made you cringe “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Just spill it.”

You groaned, dying of embarrassment.

“The psychic told me I’d meet my soulmate one day and until that day I’d suffer nightmares every single night. And she was right. I had nightmares that night and every night since then…until I found my soulmate…” quiet stretched out between you as you found the courage to finish, “Until I found you.”  

The lights flicked back on, making you squint and cover your eyes from the sudden flare. Then you saw him. He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, recognizing someone. 

“How d’you know it's me?”

After a moment’s silent embarrassment, you swallowed spit. 

“You're in my dreams now. All the time.” 

He looked down, and you're so nervous you wanted to chew off your lip. You stood, only to have Billy stand with you. He kissed you, and his tongue was smoke and spearmint. His lips were soft, and he took you around the waist, pulling you into a distant, smoky cologne while your arms were slung around his neck. Nothing had ever felt so perfect. He pulled back, though not far, and there was so much tenderness in his cool eyes. 

“D’you think it’s stupid?” you asked. 

“Y’know…all kinds of crazy shit happens around here. Someday I’ll tell you about it.”

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