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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

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PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 3

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Peter always unapologetically stealing all the uwus. It’s the MCU law, sorry, didn’t make it. Tony Stark can ✨rail me✨. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves THE WORLD! I’m not kidding. Please visit her and show her some love, my homegirl is stressed 💖✨

I didn’t see Bruce nor Tony for a week. The doctor was away on some science conference (he sent me one dorky selfie next to a whiteboard full of barely intelligible equations as proof), Tony was in California, having some sort of a board meeting. How do I know? Peter, out of lack of better things to do, constantly texted me updates on his science patron’s whereabouts and what-abouts.

In times like these, it took me for a loop - I was on a first name basis with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. In the beginning, I was intimidated - I avoided them both like the plague and tinkered in the lab with headphones on whenever I could, until Tony made a comment so snarky I couldn’t resist joking back. That’s not to say Bruce was a social butterfly, but even he gave into my tomfoolery after seeing me stand calmly throughout several of Tony’s hissy fits.

What amazed me even more so was that despite Tony being literally an insufferable little brat, I still longed after him. Sure, the man was hot as hell - but his physical traits were much less significant when it came to my feelings towards him than the amount of sheer drive and willpower he possessed. He was stubborn - that’s another trait we shared - and unapologetically himself in every damn situation.

I could write poetry about the million expressions in his face, about the shine in his eyes.

But I won’t. He’s a technical guru. Ever since I started hanging around the tower, I became much more conscious about what I posted online. Not to say I had a Stark fan blog or anything, but I’d stopped scrolling through the tag, even if I didn’t actually click on any articles. I dutifully reblogged pictures of Tom Ellis instead - while he was a very fine, distinguished man, he wasn’t Tony Stark. I enjoyed looking at the first and enjoyed being around the other. And even though my feed still had the occasional “I love arm” shitpost, I focused on aesthetic pictures and quotes instead - things I had an active internet presence for.

My personal life wasn’t very interesting. I didn’t have any close friends and any and all sex I’ve had was just a bunch of one night stands, fueled by alcohol, selfish lust and the occasional joint. Despite having a fair share of kind, generous lovers, the morning after left me feeling a little bit emptier every time. I thought about getting a boyfriend or something… But quickly became totally clueless as to where I could find one. Men under twenty-five could barely hold my interest long enough to have a casual chat and I wasn’t naive enough to think there were a lot of honest, well-intentioned thirty-somethings that wanted to date my high school ass.

Peter had a crush on me, I knew that. The boy developed one or another kind of feelings for anybody who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness and it alarmed me. In any other case I would have bailed on him, gently, of course, to spare him the disappointment but my selfishness got in the way. I regretted it every day. A wave of desperation rose in me every time I thought about moving on without seeing Tony or Bruce, without Peter shyly smiling at me as he explained how the things he created worked. A faint hope that one day, his schoolboy puppy love will grow into a brotherly kind of regard was the only thing that kept me afloat in my sea of guilt.

As the Fall rolled around, so did my gloomy mood. It was hard to be sad when the sun was shining and the birds were chirping outside, but with clouds hanging over the city like a lead curtain, the bottled up negativity rose to the surface uninvited. Mother had returned from her business trip, adding an uncomfortable, hollow sort of chill to the house wherever she stood. I don’t know what was worse - the hours we spent in one room ignoring each other or the immaculately structured questions she asked me about my studies and extra-curriculars. Mother didn’t ask me about my friends, or my feelings or any of the other things a mother was supposed to give a damn about.

I was an asset to her company and that was that. If you would have asked her, she would tell you I’m old enough for her to mind her own business - which was technically true. Yet according to her, I’ve been old enough since seventh grade. My dad answered his messages sporadically, sometimes with a two-word answer and sometimes with a cocaine and booze fueled rant eleven texts long. I felt sorry for him. I really did.

My phone was blowing up. Party invitations, likes from people I saw once or twice (“oh my god, you’re, like, so hot, what’s your Insta”), DMs from guys looking to score an easy piece of ass. I never answered. If I wanted to party, I just sort of showed up and everybody went along with it. I took care of my appearance and it showed - never once was I turned away from a party. Everyone wanted to dance, to share their drinks, to light up and get faded together and fade into the city, into the cold air and grey sky.

Skirt swaying and top clinging to my chest, I danced. The sweaty, heated bodies around me did the same. Not one of us cared, it was a Tuesday night and the place packed way too many people. An arm snaked around my waist, startling me. I had to begrudgingly crack open an eye to see the bastard in the dimly lit room.

“I saw you at the bar, you looked bored. Maybe you need something to cheer you up?”

So not a creepy rapist. Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer. At house parties like these, there was always The Guy. He never danced, he sipped on the same drink all night yet always looked like he was having the time of his life. I was no stranger to the occasional joint, or even something more stimulating…

“I got the good stuff, sweetums, you’ll be fine and dandy in no time.”

Eh, what the hell. I inconspicuously danced with the guy to the middle of the crowd, exchanging a few crumpled dollar notes for a baggie of two pills. In no time, I chased one down with a hastily poured Jack.

The world did become better, as the drug dealer promised. People were nicer, friendlier and I almost didn’t believe mother was a useless, stone cold bitch. I almost didn’t care that I was deeply, madly in love with a man as unreachable as Olympus. If I squinted, the guy sitting at the bar looked kind of like Tony, tan, dark hair, worn jeans and a band tee.

So I danced. I danced and I stared right at him and then we danced some more. I closed my eyes, letting his arms grab me and pull me, I let his beard scratch my neck where he sucked a mark on me, I let his rough palms choke me against a wall in one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the house. It felt good to be wanted. It felt great to be needed as he rutted inside of me, hitting that sweet spot with every twitch of his hips.

It felt lonely when he left, pressing a kiss to my forehead and saying something dumb like “Be good, kid.”. I don’t remember what exactly it was, only that I had to turn my face away from his breath that reeked like weed and vodka.

To shake off the void that made home inside of my chest, I went to the roof to get some fresh air. The house had a nice patio on it - I actually knew the owner - that hosted more plants than I’d care to count. There was an ashtray and an abandoned pack of cigarettes. I greeted the faintly blooming sunrise surrounded by a cloud of smoke, shivering in the autumn mist.

Sounds of the party became less prominent with every passing minute as people geared up to go home and get a few winks of sleep before going to work. New Yorkers weren’t really thoughtful partying on a Tuesday, but then again, neither was I. The city always was busy - even then, at the crack of dawn, the dull throb of a bassline was rudely interrupted by a blaring car alarm followed by dogs barking in aggravation.

The more I sat there, the bleaker everything became. I had enough common sense to know I was just coming off the drug but for once, I had been happy and content for several hours without a care in the world. It had been too long since I felt that way and what’s a little low after a good high?

Mother left for her early conference at five AM sharp, I entered my house at five-thirty, making a beeline in the shower and immediately dumping my alcohol and cigarette soaked clothes into the wash with the smelliest detergent I could find. I gave similar treatment to my body and my hair, using the chemically-smelling products on my body and on my hair, brushing my teeth multiple times.

By the time I was leaving for school, only a faint smell lingered in the air where I’d previously entered, so I set the air freshener to automatically spray the obnoxious mist every ten minutes. Mother gets home at twelve for lunch, that should be more than enough time for any remnants of my partying to disappear into the lilac and lavender fumes.

The Valium I’d popped to deal with the aftermath of Molly made my brain sluggish. One look in the mirror and I hastily put my sunglasses on - the ashen colour of my face and the slightly crazed look wasn’t very complimentary to my complexion. The teacher didn’t give a damn. I stared blankly ahead of me for most part of first period.

“What happened to you? You look like hell!” Peter’s exclamation, while usually would’ve alarmed me, barely made a dent in my stupor.

“I feel like shit, too,” Admit what you can’t deny. Deny what you can’t admit. “I didn’t get any sleep. Like, at all.”

Peter frowned, the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second. I flinched when his hand tentatively touched my forehead - the pounding in my temples slowed to a dull throbbing but it was still unpleasant when someone was all up in my space.

“Jesus, you’re as cold as a corpse. Maybe you should go see the nurse,” His worry bled into me too. Like hell I was going to the school nurse! They were specifically trained to recognize the signs of substance abuse.

“I’ll head home straight after school, I think we’ll have to skip our sciencing,” No way also I’d be letting Tony and Bruce see me like this. Oh my God, I was a mess. “Mother’s home.” I added. Even the emotional frostbite I’d get from being around her was more tolerable than being a downer for Peter and Tony.

Peter’s face immediately softened in sympathy. He knew almost everything about my relationship with my family, including him actually seeing my mother that one time. He told me she gave him the creeps and I don’t blame him at all. The stoicism that was required for her work made my mother an unbearable person to exist around outside of her fancy office on the top floor of a glass high-rise building.

“Okay, but promise to text me if it gets worse. You might have caught the autumn bug that’s been going around,” He obviously said the last part to calm himself down. Sweet little Peter, naïve child. I solemnly nodded nonetheless.

When I got home, I went straight to bed. Tony was being Tony, as usual, but in a strangely kind way. I suppose it should’ve made me feel better and it kind of did, but then it went downhill from there. I couldn’t explain why I started crying. I bawled my eyes out at how unfair this god-damned world was and when the doorbell rang… Let’s say, the delivery boy hightailed it out of there once the bag of takeout was deposited into my arms. I looked and felt ghastly.

I ate as much as I could and dropped into a restless nap, drifting in and out of sleep with exhausted exasperation. There had not been a time where I felt so low after popping a pill and I was equal parts alarmed and satisfied. For one, the drug dealer didn’t lie like they usually do - the stuff was good and I still had the other pill hidden away in a bottle of painkillers, inconspicuously mixed with other white pills but shape distinctive enough for me to recognize should I have need in taking it again.

The thought of well, taking it again, was fleeting. I had school tomorrow and a missed science bender to make up for. A few buzzes of my phone later, I felt happier. Better. Not so down anymore. I meant every word that I said - Bruce was very precious, kind and gentle. And so, warm and soft. And totally kissable.

Well, fuck. What do I do now?

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #I've already got a room in Hell y'all welcome to book one nearby

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itsboketto · 3 years

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output - gojou x f!reader

genre: angsty

warnings: cussing , mentions of sex , death , Utahime mentions

disclaimer: please excuse my terrible writing state, i haven’t written in awhile so I’m just getting back into writing :) also this is in no way to shit on gojou, we all love him 🏹 and yes, i’m aware i used a different anime AMV but the song & arrangement was too good to pass off. thanks for understanding!

WC: 3231

proofreaders/editors: Amanda , Aldu , Zero , & Flora | Thank you so much for fixing my dumb mistakes 👉👈 appreciate you 4 very much!

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to stay with you forever, he was supposed to go down on one knee and wrap your finger with a diamond ring, he was supposed to have a family with you and have the happiest lifetime with you.

He was too late

A week ago

“Y/n-channn“ Gojou whined while throwing a fit on the bed you both shared. You gave a soft hum, rubbing your eyes with your hand, the flat side of your elbow slightly brushing against his soft fluffy white hair. “I want to eat breakfasttt!” he huffed, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest kissing you on the top your head. “If you hold me like this I won’t be able to cook for you. Make up your mind babe,” you yawned, digging your face into his warm embrace. “What if I want both?” “You don’t get both.” “I’ll get both anyways!” “No you won’t.”. That’s how your everyday went.

He’d wrapped his arms around your waist as you cooked breakfast for him, propping his chin on your shoulder and humming a familiar tune. The way he always ends up making your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you with his breath-taking eyes. How he always was your first priority and always will be. He was your one and only, and you both knew that.

Nothing really concerned you when it came to Gojou. You knew he was always out trying to save others or train his municipals so you never worried about what he was doing.

Today however, he seemed a bit off. He woke up on his own, cooked his own breakfast (and yours), didn’t even try giving you the slightest attention, and just went out to work after he finished getting dressed. The only thing you got was a quick head pat and a “Have a nice day”. You knew things were getting troublesome at work and he was working really hard to train your younger brother, Itadori-kun, but it still hurt that he was giving you the cold shoulder. You ate the sandwich he left on the kitchen counter, thinking about what could've happened that made him so stressed out . You decided to wait until he got home so you can talk it out with him.

He didn’t come back home.

It started getting pitch black as you watched as the clouds flowed with the silent night. You already tried text him, call him, you even called your younger brother Itadori-kun but he seemed to be busy. You were worried sick, not because he wasn’t home, no, but about him acting strange this morning. The last person you called was someone whom you’ve been close to since childhood, Utahime.

“Hello?” she answered, picking up faster than you thought

“Utahime, I know it’s quite late to be calling but I need some comforting” you sighed, hoping she’ll agree to listen

“It’s okay, tell me what’s wrong”

You ended up staying on the call until the sun rose. You apologized to her for taking up her time and suggested to buy her a cup of coffee the next time they meet and she agreed happily. You fell asleep as soon as you hung up, exhausted from the overwhelming emotion you spilled onto your best friend.

The afternoon

The sun ray peaked through the window blinds, flushing into your living room, landing right straight onto your face. You rolled over to the side to avoid the sun light but in the process you nearly fell off the couch side. “Ah!! That scared me..” you grumbled while raising yourself up, yawning and extending your arms up to stretch out the sore bones. “What time is it?” you asked, twisting your head to check the clock; 12:09pm “SHIT I’M LATE” you cussed in a panic and zoomed to your room to get your prepacked bag and went to the kitchen to grab a slice of bread. You slipped out of your slippers and grabbed the keys hanging on the right side of the door. Assuming Gojou was back, you yelled back “Okay babe, I’m leav-” the front door unlocked. It pushed wide open revealing an image you’d like to be forgotten.

Another woman was clinging onto Gojou’s arm

Not only that, but he also reeked of alcohol as well. His face was terribly red and he couldn’t stay put. “Gojou~ I thought you said no one was going to be home” the woman hummed, looking at you with a smile. “Ah? I was sureee Y/n would beee at workkk nowww~” your boyfriend whined while using the girl as support for his heavy head. What the fuck was happening? Who is this woman? Why is he bringing her to our house? Is he serious right now? Too many questions flooded your head but there was one thing clear to you: get him away from that woman. “Um Miss, would you mind letting go of him? I can handle him from here” you gave the woman a genuine smile and stood in-between them, trying your best to drive her away. “Why should I let go when he brought me here, hm?” she didn’t try letting go, her grip tightened. “I appreciate your help, Miss. But he is seeing someone right now so it’d be best to leave” you tried to emphasize your lack of patience, not waiting for her to respond you yanked his arm away from her grip and immediately shut the door after the action. You could hear the woman cuss under her breath while dragging herself away from your unit.

You heaped Gojou onto the living room couch and removed his mask. “Gojou, what happened?” you asked, trying to sound as calm as you could. “Y-y/n? Why are you hereeee?” he asked, adverting his gaze as if he were hiding something. “Who was that woman?” you asked again but firmly this time. “W-who are you talkinggg abouttt?”. He wasn’t in the right state to answer any questions no matter how much you push him. You let out a heavy sigh and walked towards the kettle where the already boiled water was sitting. Pouring the water into his mug, you walked back to him and handed it to him. “Get some rest, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Gojou left.

You woke up to a cold atmosphere. The sun was up and you’re alone on the couch. It took you a few seconds to remember what happened last time. “Gojou!” you said in an instant. You panicked, hoping he didn’t leave already. The bedroom, bathroom, laundry room, closet. He was gone. You groaned in frustration as you kneaded your fingers with your hair. Why does he keep leaving? What’s going on? Is he avoiding me? The questions just won’t stop coming and it began to impact you and your mood. You knew this wasn’t good since you had shift that night. “Fuck you Gojou...” letting out one last sigh before getting dressed.

“Itadori-kun, could you do me a favour?“

After the call with your brother, you grabbed your house keys and slipped into your sneakers. If he’s going to avoid you, then you’ll just have to go find him. Itadori sent you the address of the club he was at. You weren’t the least concerned about why he was there, all you wanted to know was what was happening. You stepped on the petal and drove to the destination.

At the club

You parked your car in the parking lot at the club. The sign read Sight Eight in bright neon lights. You were unfamiliar with the place, nonetheless the surroundings. Everyone seemed to be drunk off of whatever it is they are on, your heart paced faster the more you walked into the hell hole. It was crowded, too many people made you claustrophobic and stuffy, uncomfortable to the point you wanted to throw up. That didn’t stop you though, your mission was to find Gojou and leave immediately.

“Hey sexy, would you mind dancing with me?” “Damn, your body looks beautiful!” “Come sit beside me, you little slut.”

You couldn’t help but to feel terribly uncomfortable, the way the men stared at you, the way you were out in the open for any of them to prance on you. It was horrible. You didn’t understand why the fuck Gojou would even come close to this place, he never mentioned liking clubs at all and he knew too well that you hated clubs.

You looked everywhere, yet you didn’t spot him anywhere. He would’ve been easily seen because of his tall figure and white hair but he was no where to be seen. You cursed multiple times under your breath, why did you even come here in the first place? To suffocate yourself? You lost thought of your motive, knowing you’d need some fresh air, you walked to the back door and stepped outside.

And there he was.

There he was, devouring another woman. Not just any woman though. He was passionately kissing your best friend, Utahime.

“W-what the fuck are you doing Gojou..”

He snapped out of his actions, whipping his head to the side to see the person he hoped he wouldn’t get caught by. He saw as you also looked at Utahime with an expression he couldn’t figure out. You were tearing apart, the two most important people in your life decided to go behind your back even after all the lies they’ve told you.

“I-it’s not what you think, Y/n!” he panicked, Utahime sparing him regretful looks. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Was this a nightmare? Are you hallucinating? No. No you weren’t, in fact this is at real as it gets and that took your a few moments to take it in.

Gojou told Utahime to leave and apologize next time as he wanted to talk to you privately. “Y/n, I can explain-” he started once again. He tried to approach you, but you flinched at his step, you took a cautious step back, terrified of him as he would somehow hurt you just by walking closer to you. “I don’t want to hear your bullshit anymore, Gojou” you said quietly and ran for it. You pushed the back doors open, heart pumping from the adrenaline. You couldn’t care less about the judging eyes and nasty remarks, all you wanted to do was to get as far away from the man you used to call your one and only.

Your eyes burned from the tears, your sight got blurry to the point you couldn’t see properly, the sounds outside were practically silent. You looked down to your phone when it gave a notification sound. It was Gojou. Your blood boiled from the sight of his name on your phone screen that you stepped on the pedal forgetting you were on a red light.

The driver in front of you tried to stop you with the sound of his car horn. Beep beep beep! You couldn’t hear anymore. Ha! You were practically hysterical at this point. You didn’t even think twice as you slammed on the pedal, your hands moved on it’s own on the hand wheel and your head not thinking straight. You drove right into the traffic pole, almost barely missing the opposite car. The last moments you remembered were hearing an annoying ringing sound in your ear and blurry figures yelling at your motionless body.

GOJOU (song link : loop it!)

He didn’t have any particular reason for doing what he did. He was terribly exhausted from work and he needed an output to excite him before going back to the draining place. He’s already slept with many different women behind your back, always feeling disgusted towards himself before and after the many times he’s had sex with others. However, he easily loses his mind once he starts. This distraction was effective for him, which made him feel that the idea wasn’t so bad after all.

All he had to do was keep it a secret from you and hope that he never gets caught, right?

That was a horrible bet. Even more, he made himself defenseless to many others. He’s been used too many times to count yet he didn’t mind it because he knew it was going to make him feel better.

That one day he drank, he didn’t intend to get drunk. Someone must’ve put a drug in his drink when he wasn’t watching. He passed out on the 3rd shot. The person whom took him to a spare room at the party most likely fucked him while he was asleep. The next morning, he knew he fucked up. Walking up to a person that isn’t you. He wanted to go back to you as soon as possible but the woman was too hard to resist as she seduced him. He ended up drinking before going back home, the woman apparently found him drinking by her door.

He knew he was indeed suspicious at that point. Trust was something very important to you yet he broke it so easily. He didn’t end there, even though he already at the questioning stage, he didn’t stop. He continued to hook up with random women, sleeping with them, and then not going home back to you.

He knew this would hurt you. He knew his actions were more than unacceptable. But his addiction was too hard to handle.

“W-what the fuck are you doing Gojou..”

That voice, that setting, and that person were all enough to make Gojou’s world go upside down. He hoped it wasn’t the person he was thinking of as he whipped his head towards the voice’s direction.

It was you.

On instinct, he tried to cover the woman he was kissing right there an then. The person you were the closest to, the person you trusted the most, the person you called a best friend was the person that was pushed behind his back in attempt to hide her from you.

He was caught. And caught by the last person he’d like to be caught by.

He couldn’t think of any words, the only sentence that came out was “I-it’s not what you think, Y/n!” and “Y/n I can explain-”. Really Gojou? Was that the only thing you could mutter out? That sentence obviously did no better than what she just witnessed. He tried to approach you but of course you dashed the opposite direction. He ran behind you, trying to catch up to you but you were already in your car by the time he reached the cashier counter. He exited the club and yelled your name as if it would do anything to stop you. “Y/N!”

He reached into his pocket and called you, texted you, tried anything to contact you but you didn’t answer them. He groaned in frustration, sliding his back on the glass door then sitting himself down on the ground. Look at what he’s done. What was he supposed to do now? You probably won’t even let him in the house even if he begged. It was all over now. He made the biggest mistake of his life.

He dragged himself to the street and called for a taxi home. He stared out the window, wondering what will happen now. His eyes blurred from the burning tears. Just thinking of every outcome made him realize that you were never going to forgive him.

Bringg! Bringg!

His ringtone ringed! He excitedly flipped his phone on, only to face an unknown number. His expression immediately changed, was he too hopeful? Either way, he needed to pick up that call incase it was inportant.

“Hello? Is this Mr.Satoru?“

What? “Yes, that is indeed me”

“Hello Mister, this is the JLK hospital. Miss L/n had you saved as an emergency contact, I am here to inform you that she’s in our hospital.”

What? “What do you mean in the hospital-”

“She got into a car accident, Mist-”

He hung up the phone. He couldn’t believe his ears. Y/n? In a car accident? He yelled at the driver “JLK HOSPITAL. NOW!”. He was worried enough to the point he wanted to break the land under him.

At JLK

He threw the cab whatever he had in his wallet, not caring about the amount. All he was focused on was you. He pushed the front doors open, patients looking at him as if he were a mad man. He ran straight to the reception counter, panting in every word he spoke.

“Y-y/n! W-where is s-she!?”

The receptionist, frightened, tried to calm him down as he breathed in and out deeply.

“She’s in the emergency room-“

He didn’t blink for a minute, he dashed towards the emergency arrows, running through the quiet halls, only reaching the locked door at the end of the hall. He banged the doors, praying that you were fine.

“LET ME IN! LET ME SEE Y/N!” was what he yelled continuously.

Nurses had to hold him back from disturbing the doctors and nurses trying to save your cold and still body.

He sat on the chairs right by the doors, waiting for some kind of reassurance, some kind of comfort to tell him you were still with him.

The large metal doors open from the emergency room. He beamed up, looking for a relieved or happy expression from the doctor but there was...

Nothing.

“I’m very sorry Mr.Satoru” the doctor said, pained to even look at you straight. “She was found with a glass barely missing her right lung, she also suffered from a major head injury caused from the accident..” they said but judging by his expression they decided to stop talking.

“C-can I go s-see her?“ he stuttered

There you were. Lifelessly lying on the hospital bed, covered up with a white cold sheet. He took a few steps into the room, only then stopping mid-way. He had no right to go near you, he had no right to mourn for you, he had no right to associate with you. He knew that, but he needed to see you one last time. Approaching you, seeing how your face paler than snow and your body just as cold as ice.

He squeezed your hand, crying his lungs out. Screaming at you to come back to him as if that would help. He prayed for a miracle, somehow thinking you would open your eyes and wrap your arms around his broad back. Your head resting on his chest and how you nuzzled into his embrace. How you had small arguments with him and letting him win because you just loved him that much.

But that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

He didn’t even get the chance to say sorry. To tell you how much you meant to him, how much he loved you, and how much he wished he had spent more time with you. He kept regretting every decision he made, hoping you could somehow hear him begging for you to come back.

It took him hours to take in the reality. The doctors told him he had 5 more minutes before they had to take you away to the morgue. He shook your hand one last time, finally accepting the news. You were gone and he couldn’t bring you back.

“I love you, Y/n..”

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ssvgawara · 4 years

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Haikyuu boys and some oddly specific crime they’d commit

a/n: I come back and the first thing I write is a shitpost!! enjoy </3 tw for drugs, murder, alcohol and general crime committing xoxo

Karasuno

Daichi- he’s a cop sorry that’s all there is to it man

Suga- Suga has multiple charges of 1st-degree murder against him but they can’t seem to find his identity so he continues committing murder and will continue until he gets caught or ends up murdering enough people to be put in a position of power

Asahi- everyone is probably like “Oh Asahi is innocent” NO. He has learned that his slightly scary face will let him get away with a lot, he is buying alcohol illegally because he looks old enough to, and he’s buying so much other shit and just getting away with it

Nishinoya- This man gives fucking pimp vibes I can just see him in the big leopard print fur coat with a pretty girl in his lap and he calls himself big poppa but no one else will

Tanaka- Drug dealer vibes, probably runs an entire fucking drug ring with his sister and not just a Lil weed these mfkas have the hard shit too like you could probably buy meth from them, he’s not using it but it’s good business

Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita- They literally rob a bank they have an entire scheme and get away with multiple bank robberies and this goes on for MONTHS

Kageyama- We know he’s volleyball smart but otherwise he’s so mfing stupid and I love him for it but he is a chronic shoplifter. Just picks something up and takes it, has walked out of a store without paying for an entire bed set once and got away with it somehow so idk props to him

Hinata- He is the little guy in any heist situation, he fits anywhere so he can sneak in and out the best, he gave himself the stupid ass code name tiny giant but everyone goes with it because somehow he is the best

Tsukishima- armed robbery, but he doesn’t have a gun just a knife like he’s tall and as an attitude, a knife will get him whatever he needs he doesn’t need the gun

Yamaguchi- He runs a catfishing scheme where he pretends to be a naive girl, scams old men out of their money, and then ghosts them and I think it’s what he deserves let him carry on especially because no one would believe it’s him. Also not really like a crime crime but still a crime in a way

Kiyoko- She kills men and I know it, Queen Kiyoko ending the patriarchy one shitty man at a time like she only kills men who deserve it bc some have rights.

Yachi- She’s too anxious to commit an in-person crime so she does a lot of cybercrime, hacking government databases and releasing info to the people, truly the anonymous we deserve

Saeko- She’s running that drug ring with Tanaka, and she loves it because there’s a thrill to it even though yknow she’s dealing literal meth but like its fine plus she loves rocking people’s shit when they get too handsy, which bring me to my next point underground MMA Saeko, like the illegal one with no rules yeah <3

Ukai- this man probably sells all kinda shit to minors that he shouldn’t he is so unbothered a 7-year-old could probably walk in ask for a pack of camels and get them and leave before he noticed what was going on.

Takeda- Did y’all see how scared Hinata was when Takeda gave him that lecture? This dude could kidnap someone and scare them into giving all the information he needed, a legend truly

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa- took steroids one time. And of course in sports, that’s not allowed. But he only did it once and regretted it for months afterward. Never told anyone and was just relieved he didn’t have to piss in a cup and have someone find out.

Matsukawa- Without hesitation, I know this man takes dead people’s bones and sells them on the internet. Has dubbed himself the bone man and he feels so much power when someone buys a femur or sumn. It’s kinda funny honestly he has a hoard of bones to sell, his fave is the pelvis.

Hanamaki- He’s in between jobs because he stole money from his last job, like he said he was sorry he just needed a little extra for gas but was sad to find out that’s a literal crime and he was laundering money.

Iwaizumi- he’s a street racer, like the fast and furious style and it’s so sexy of him like late-night races ugh to be in an expensive fast car with him where he has one hand on my thigh okay that’s enough of that.

Kunimi- Look me in the eye and tell me he does not do drugs. He does and if you don’t believe me you are wrong and I will fight you on this one.

Kyotani- If there is a crime he will commit it for fun. Like he will do it with no hesitation. He has a record longer than twilight and I’m not sure how he is not in prison actually nvm he escaped and is a wanted criminal lol

Shiritorizawa

Ushijima- Assault, he just reeks of getting into bar fights when he’s absolutely wasted. Like he most likely didn’t start it but he will be finishing it

Tendou- grave robbing, he just goes into the cemetery picked the oldest plots, and gets to digging. Has made thousands on dead people jewelry and probably won’t get caught, like besides the groundskeeper there’s no security he will never stop.

Semi- he breaks copyright laws on the daily. He’s sampling music in his all the time but he’s doing it so sneakily it’s fine its what deserves stream his band on Spotify right now,

Shirabu- His bangs are criminal enough. No, but he has stolen drugs from the hospital before he just wanted to try the Xanax, and yeah he could just write himself a prescription for it nut like it’s so easy to just go get some and no report it so that’s what he did.

Goshiki- y’all want me to say arson don’t you?? Fine. He commits arson multiple times and kills 7 people with fire before getting arrested and he doesn’t even feel bad so in prison he probably fucking runs a gang he is crazy.

Nekoma

Kuroo- he is a capitalist and class traitor and that’s crime enough I don’t care is he’s attractive or rich, He commits crimes daily by just existing but I still love him anyway.

Kai- Could not commit a crime he just wants to garden and live his life. Jk there’s at minimum one body in that garden let him kill a man he deserves it just let him have one dead body

Yaku- he keyed someone’s car once just because they pissed him off. Was it kuroo? Yes. But that’s fine because he also keyed Lev’s car but blamed lev for keying kuroo’s and Kuroo for keying Lev’s. He just wants to watch the world burn.

Kenma- cyberbullying but man he is mean. Like no bars held we will dig into every insecurity he can and that shit hurts and he doesn’t even feel bad about it he will just be as mean as he can if you’re not careful

Lev- his crime is being tall and dumb also doesn’t understand the economy and prints counterfeit money because why can’t we print more money? The government should get on that.

Inuoka- He released all the animals from a zoo, like snuck in one night and just let them all free, I’m surprised the tiger didn’t eat him but hey the animals are free, there’s still some missing uh oh he’s very proud of himself for it. After the rush, he starts sneaking into shelters and freeing all the dogs and cats

Yamamoto and Fukunaga- Have egged a house before, it was Kuroo’s he deserves all this bullying and you can’t stop me.

Date Tech

Aone- Criminal Conspiracy, sure he had an entire foolproof plan to get away with the perfect crime but someone found out, and now his plans are ruined, damn </3 and no one ever suspects the quiet guy either.

Futakuchi- Having a prostitute, he just wanted some company like mans is lonely so he paid a girl to just spend a Lil time with him it’s all good.

Fukurodani

Bokuto- I know we all haha funny laugh at tax evader bokuto and sure maybe he evades his taxes but he’s also committed vehicular manslaughter, he cannot drive and has killed someone with his car maybe even multiple someones but he always drives off in a panic because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Akaashi- Hasn’t actively committed a crime but has been an accomplice in every vehicular manslaughter Bokuto has committed why the fuck does he keep letting bokuto drive? He really needs to stop that.

Konoha- A master scammer he is so convincing everyone gives him money even if they’re a little sus because he’s just that good each scheme is so convincing.

Inarizaki

Kita- He grows weed, you can’t tell me those rice fields are just for rice he’s got all this space he is growing marijuana and selling it, let him do it I want him to be my plug.

Atsumu- "What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No, I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier."

Osamu- resisting arrest. He just said no and ran. Granted he shouldn’t have punched the cop in the first place to have to be arrested but like that’s not the point here.

Aran- accidental child abandonment, like he just forgot he was babysitting and left the kid alone for like a day. He felt terrible but he still forgot the kid and now is fearful of parenthood

Suna- owns an illegal weapon, like he just never registered it and keeps it around and would use it if needed Suna please just point the weapon at me maybe

Others

Terushima- Graffiti, he loves painting on the walls of buildings and tagging them, has so much spraypaint and his day isn’t complete if he doesn’t tag at least one building or train car.

Daishou- Public intoxication- he got a little too fucked up and stripped on the street he will forever have to live with everyone knowing he has an ass tattoo like damn bruh

Sakusa- Perjury he simply wanted to get out of court so he said some shit so he could leave granted he lied under oath but whatever, did they ever find out? No, so he’s fine and he’d do it again if it meant he could leave faster. Like sure he was a witness to a murder but bruh he pretends he does not see.

Hoshihumi- driving without a license he simply thought you didn’t need one because why do you need a piece of plastic to say you can drive a car like??? Just know how to drive it.

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 4 years

Text

I’m Fine. Just a Little Tired.

Summary: Catching wind of a hunt, Sam, Dean, and Y/N, head toward a small town where residents are attacking each other. What they find could be dangerous for them all.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence

1746 words.

Supernatural/horror fusion

The Crazies (2010)/Supernatural fusion

Spoilers for The Crazies (2010) below

Sam had gotten wind of a case before you all had even fully showered and slept after taking out a nest of vamps. The rundown motel that you had stopped at for a few hours reeked of mold and shame and you were sitting on the bed closest to the bathroom reading a novel when Sam barged into the room, laptop in hand.

“Dude!” Dean yelled, pulling his pants all the way up, having just emerged from the bathroom moments earlier. Sam completely ignored him, flopping down next to you prompting you to set aside your novel and give him your attention, Dean grumbling not so quietly in the corner.

“So get this,” Sam began, typing furiously against the keys of his laptop, the click clack almost drowning out Dean’s next complaints.

“Dude.” He said again, this time running a hand down his face and shaking a few water droplets from his shower wet hair. “We are exhausted. I have to get at least four hours before I dive back in. You can’t have already found a hunt in the six minutes we’ve been here.”

Sam ignored him again, scrolling through the report he hacked his way to. “You were the one who said we should take on as many cases as possible.” Sam didn’t look up from his computer, but you saw the eye roll Dean threw toward his brother and you stifled a giggle.

“Besides, this is right up our alley. It’s a small town in Pierce county. Some guy walked onto a baseball field with a shotgun and was gunned down by the sheriff after refusing to lower the gun.”

“So?” Dean responded, throwing a few flannels into his duffel as his brother spoke, clearly giving in to another hunt.

“So,” Sam continued finally looking up at Dean and closing his laptop. “Toxicology report came back negative, and another guy in the same town burned his house down with his wife and seven-year-old son trapped inside. Sounds like our kind of thing.”

“Oh my God…” You responded placing a hand over your mouth, unable to imagine what kind of monster would do such a thing. Sam rubbed a hand down your back comfortingly as he continued to fill Dean in on where they were headed and what their plan was once they got there. Dean let out a few more complaints before grabbing his and your duffel and stomping out to the car. As the hotel door slammed behind his brother, Sam smiled at you gently, and you picked up your novel and followed quietly behind him out the door.

You all loaded up the car quickly and hit the road, Dean’s mood leveling out as soon as he got behind the wheel. Sam continued to type away on his phone researching as much as possible, and you placed your ear pods in succumbing to your calming music playlist and settling into the worn leather, watching corn fields whip past the back window. You realized you had fallen asleep when you pulled into the sleepy town in the middle of the night, the slowing of the vehicle waking you up. The town was eerily dark and quiet, the only sound the rumble of the Impala’s engine and you sat up turning off your music to look through the windshield at the main street of town. The town looked like it emerged straight from a Western, but there were a few modern buildings, a coffee shop right next to the sheriffs’ station. The only thing that seemed out of place were the lack of streetlights. And people.

“This doesn’t feel right.” Sam started glancing from left to right down the deserted street. Dean grunted lowly in response maneuvering the Impala around a car parked in the middle of the road, doors thrown open, seemingly abandoned. Dean turned the car off of main street and you stepped into a completely different scene.

Through the windshield were hundreds of people, running and screaming, their faces tilted toward the sky as they were rounded up by men in camouflage military outfits with gas masks strapped tightly to their faces. The men continued to gather all of the stray people who were begging for answers and stuff them into vehicles up ahead.

“What the hell?” Dean huffed out in shock, putting the car in park, headlights shining on the scene in front of them. A woman turned toward us abruptly and screamed for help before she was tackled by a soldier and taken back to the group. Before any of us could react, we were being pulled roughly from the Impala, multiple men restraining Sam and Dean while another pulled you by the arm from the backseat.

“Dean!” You screamed out in shock as the man wrapped your arms tightly behind your back and shoved you forward toward the other people being ushered into what looked to be a school bus. You flailed around as much as you could, kicking your legs back behind you hoping to find the man’s shins or if you were lucky his groin. Three other men had Sam face-down in the ground and Dean was putting up a good fight against five others who were slowly circling him like he was a wild animal. He broke free from the circle of camo-clad men and ran to you, pulling you roughly from the man’s arms, who stumbled forward onto the pavement.

“Y/N,” Dean started, gripping you by the shoulders, green eyes wild and scared. “Run!”

You took off running forward into the darkness, knowing you couldn’t go back toward the soldiers. You weaved in and out of people hoping to find cover in an abandoned building, when you were pushed from behind and dove spread eagle onto the pavement, a knee coming down onto the middle of your back, successfully halting you.

“Get your hands off her!” You heard Dean shout from behind you, a few of the soldiers getting control of his arms and placing him face-down in the dirt as well. From your position you could see Sam, who had relaxed a bit under the men’s hold.

“Dean just relax. Let’s get on the bus and figure out what is happening.” Sam’s hazel eyes met yours and you nodded as best you could, and he offered you a reassuring smile in response. The soldier with his knee to your back lifted you up by the hands and ushered you toward the bus once again. Once aboard you took a seat toward the middle, Sam and Dean following, Dean hurrying to your side to sit next to you, and Sam sitting in the seat in front of you both.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?” Dean asked gruffly, taking your face in his hand and gently moving it left and right trying to find a beam of light to see. You had some marks from the pavement on your cheek, but what hurt the most were your hands and you offered them up to Dean lightly, who swiped at the gravel stuck in the cuts and scrapes. You hissed, glancing up at Sam who watched attentively, keeping one eye on you two while glancing at the slew of passengers coming aboard.

“What do you think is going on?” You whispered so only the brothers could hear you, as the bus began to move, swaying the bodies who hadn’t found a seat yet back and forth. Sam shook his head in response and stared out the window. You mirrored him as Dean continued to pick the gravel from your palms.

It wasn’t long before your bus pulled up alongside at least 20 others parked behind a large building just outside of town, a sign on the wall reading “Welcome to Ogden Marsh H.S. home of the Tigers!” You looked out the window at all of the people being packed behind chain-link fences, the harsh light illuminating their tired and terrified faces. You leaned further into Dean as you watched, a voice on an intercom instructing everyone to exit the bus and keep moving. Dean gripped your shoulders keeping you in-between him and Sam, Sam holding your hand tightly as you walked single file up the walkway and stepped off into the cold night air. You were all pushed rapidly into a white emergency tent where men in full hazmat suits were waving glowing wands at everyone.

“Hey!” Dean yelled at the closest soldier as we were continually pushed forward. “What’s going on?” Sam’s hand continued to grip yours and Dean walked protectively close to you as the men ignored his shouts and we continued on. Suddenly, a loud beeping erupted from the tent and men scattered toward the sound, shouting about a temperature spike. A mother and child were standing in the corner when the little girl was ripped from the mother’s arms and passed off to a soldier while the girl cried out for her mom, kicking and screaming. The mother was being held back by a few soldiers while she reached out desperately for her child.

“Stop!” You yelled ripping your hand from Sam’s and running toward the little girl, trying to pry the man’s hands off of her, as the girl cried for you to help her. “What are you people doing?!” You shouted in the man’s face. Another soldier held you back from throwing any punches when the beeping began again, and you realized a man with one of the wands was holding it toward you.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, grabbing your hand as you were flanked by soldiers who picked you up roughly off the ground and dragged you toward another tent.

“Dean…. Sam!” You yelled, throwing your head back like a child having a tantrum, desperately grabbing onto Dean’s hand to keep the men from taking you from them. Sam shoved a few of the soldiers roughly to the ground as Dean continued to hang on, keeping them away from him, when one threw a lucky punch and Sam crumbled to the ground.

“Sam!” You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks, as a few of the men grabbed roughly onto Dean forcing him to let go of your hand.

“Get off me!” He screamed, fighting toward you.

“Dean!” You continued to shout desperately as the men brought you closer and closer to the unmarked tent. The last thing you saw, before the tent flap closed behind you, was Dean’s green eyes wild and his hand reaching out toward you desperately.

Read part II here!

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Request 06 : Winwin + “I kind of got too drunk at this New Year’s party and I need you to pick me up.” (60) + “Fuck it, a new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you - I love you.” (72)

(Mildly Suggestive + Swearing)

The room felt like it was trembling with every steady pound of the music. Your head was pulsing as the swarm of sweaty, adrenaline-high people surrounded you. They reeked of sweat, cheap beer and cigarette smoke, and you fought down the urge to heave. Your vision was blurry and your mind fogged. You made out the faint outline of Yukhei, shoving his way past the crowd to get to you.

“Yo!” He slung a heavy arm around you. His breath was heavy with the smell of alcohol. He’d been lingering by, dominating the competition in beer pong. He had spectacular aim when drunk – perhaps even more so than when he was sober. “You enjoying the party?”

You subconsciously leaned into his touch, the numerous glasses of vodka you’d consumed already beginning to kick in. It was Yukhei and Ten who had coerced you into going to Yuta’s infamous New Year’s party. It was their first time being invited, and they had been giddy with joy. Apparently, you were deemed superior if you managed to obtain a personal invitation from Yuta himself. You supposed the invitation was a major ego boost for both of the boys. You were only there as Yukhei’s “girlfriend”. Frankly, you weren’t sure how anybody believed that – Yukhei slept around regularly. You weren’t shaming him, it was just the truth.

“I’m bored, Yuk,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his torso for support. “Where’s Ten? I want to go home.”

“I’m right here.” Ten clung to your arm. “And I’m too high to drive right now.”

You slapped Ten’s arm. “What the fuck, Ten? You’re high? What are you on?”

“Chill, it’s just weed.” Ten waved a hand disparagingly. “And I don’t want to go home yet. The party’s just started!”

You grimaced. In your opinion, the party had been going on for too long already – four hours to be exact. Sure, you were wasted, but even all that vodka couldn’t make up for the sheer monotony of the party. It was just an excuse for everyone to get drunk and have sex. And while you had already surpassed the first condition, you were in no mood for bland, hammered, passionless sex.

“How about you, Yuk?” You tightened your grip on Yukhei’s waist, staring up at him with a pleading look. “Please don’t fucking tell me you’re high too.”

“Hey, of course not! I’m just thrashed.” Yukhei flicked your nose. “So, I can’t drive you home.”

Ten snickered. “Yeah, and he also really wants to get into Yuta’s sister’s pants.”

You shoved Yukhei’s forehead with your palm, but he barely moved an inch. “You stupid bitch! You’re supposed to be here as my boyfriend. I didn’t think I’d have to tell you this, but if you’re my boyfriend you’re not supposed to fall into bed with some other chick.”

“Come on, she’s so hot!” Yukhei whined. “Why don’t you just hail a ride?”

“No fucking way, Yuk.” You shuddered. “Didn’t you see what happened in the news? I’m not going anywhere near a cab without one of you guys in there with me.”

Ten‘s posture sprang up. “Oh wait, wait, wait. I have a solution.” You turned to see a gleaming Ten, his eyes darting left and right unsteadily. Fuck, he really was high. “Call Sicheng to pick you up! It’s fucking New Year’s and I bet he’ll be stoked to pick the girl of his dreams up!”

The rate of which your face began to be overtaken with a red tint was alarming. “I’m not the girl of his dreams, Ten. You know that.” You and Sicheng’s relationship was . . . complicated. The two of you had met on Valentine’s, where once again you were out with Yukhei and Ten, but this time at a local bar. Sicheng had been dressed nicely, and your mouth had watered at the sight of him. When Yukhei had disappeared to the bathroom with some random girl and Ten had hurried home on the brink of passing out, Sicheng had approached an already drunk you with a smile.

He had bought you a drink, smooth talked his way into bed with you and the rest was history. You had thought that it was a one-time thing, but were pleasantly surprised to see he had snuck his phone number into your contacts on your way out.

You had met multiple times after that. The first few times played out the same way the first had, but you soon found Sicheng calling you out to the funfair, picnics, dinners, movies.

Soon enough, he had your heart in his grasp. You were infatuated with him. He treated you with respect, putting your own needs before his, acknowledging the boundaries you had set and never rushing anything with you.

Yukhei groaned. “You’re still seeing him? He’s no fun.”

“He’s plenty of fun, Yukhei! You’re only saying that because you’re obnoxiously loud,” you said, slurring over your words slightly. “He’s just not outgoing and prefers to go under the radar, but he’s really caring and affectionate.”

“You could’ve just said he fucks you well and be done with it.” Yukhei rolled his eyes. You flushed, pinching his bicep.

“Fuck you, Yukhei!”

“God, shut up, the both of you! I’m high but you guys still manage to make my head throb with your useless arguing.” Ten clasped his hands together. “But please just call Sicheng. I know you won’t regret it.”

You contemplated for a moment, but your brain was too fuzzy to come up with a reason not to do it. Sicheng always called you out on spontaneous dates, so why couldn’t you do it? “Ah, fuck. Fine. New year, new me.”

Ten whooped for you and even Yukhei gave you an encouraging pat on the back. Although he had good intentions, the gesture made you cough from how harshly he did it. You fished your phone out of your pocket, your gut clenching with fret as your thumb tapped Sicheng’s name.

His ringtone hummed and you felt your breath catch in your throat. You signalled for both Yukhei and Ten to keep their voices down, despite the fact that Sicheng wouldn’t even be able to hear them over both the cacophonous crowd and music.

The other end clicked. “Hello?”

“Hi, Sicheng. It’s me.” Ten tossed you an over-enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Sicheng’s tone lightened. “I know. I’m not complaining but, why’d you call? It’s late.”

“It’s New Year’s, Sicheng! What are you talking about? This isn’t late!” You giggled. “But . . . I kind of got too drunk at this New Year’s party and I need you to pick me up.”

“What? Are you alone?” There was faint rustling on the other end.

“No, I’m with— Ouch, fuck! Yukhei, you just elbowed me!” You pushed Yukhei - whose knees had buckled – away from you. He sent you an apologetic wince. “I’m with Ten and Yukhei. You met them. But one of them is wasted and one of them is high. High! Can you fucking believe that?”

Sicheng chortled. “Okay, okay, where are you? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up.”

You giggled. “Ooh, so bossy. Don’t worry, I will. See you later, Sicheng.”

Ten was quick to pester you. “So, what did he say?”

You had to physically stop yourself from grinning like a lunatic. “He’s coming over. I just have to send the address.”

“Hah! A bitch is getting dicked down tonight!” hollered Yukhei.

***

You hugged your jacket tighter around yourself. The breeze bit at your skin, pricking your fingertips. You flexed your toes in your shoes. They were numb, cold as ice. You shivered.

Where was he?

You’d been standing outside on Yuta’s solo cup strewn porch, patiently awaiting Sicheng’s arrival. He had said his place was a considerable distance from Yuta’s, but you hadn’t expected for him to take so long. Just the temperature alone was beginning to sober you up a little.

Just as you were about to return inside and welcome the overwhelming heat from the crowd, a familiar car honked at you. You grinned, sauntering to Sicheng’s passenger seat.

His car wasn’t fancy or new, not by a long shot. In fact, it had been handed down by his cousin. As a university student, Sicheng was understably, a little strapped for cash.

You giggled as you sat, tugging the seatbelt over yourself. “Hi, Winwin.”

Sicheng chuckled. “I told you not to call me that. You must be really drunk, huh?” He had been bestowed that nickname when he kept acing all the games in the funfair. He said it was dumb luck, you said a deity was blessing him because he had been a war hero in his past life.

“You bet, baby!” You pumped your fist in the air. “So, where are we going?”

“Your place, obviously,” said Sicheng pointedly. The car cruised down the dimly lit road, past houses and drunk groups of people staggering through the dark.

“What? But I don’t want to spend New Year’s alone at home!” You crossed your arms. You scrambled to find an excuse to haul Sicheng along. “And my roommate will kill me if I come home drunk again. I told her I wouldn’t and I intend on keeping that promise. Why don’t we just hang around town? Go sit by the beach? I want to spend New Year’s with you, Winwin-ie.”

Sicheng spared you a glance before returning his attention to the road. You didn’t miss the pleased glint in his eyes. “Fine, but only because it’s you.”

***

“Oh my God, everything’s so pretty!”

You spun in the sand, toes buried. It was freezing cold, but it went by unnoticed because you were too enraptured by your surroundings.

The soft almost powdery sand, the luminous moon casting its reflection onto the clear surface of the sea water, the leaves dancing in the breeze. You inhaled the fresh – albeit cold – air. The ripples of the sea were slight. You tread carefully along the tide, the foaming water lapping up at your toes.

Sicheng stood motionless beside you, admiring your wonder. He sat on the sand, a goofy smile evident on his lips. You smiled at him, following suit and letting your head fall to his shoulder. “I can’t believe the year’s coming to an end.”

He coiled the ends of your hair around his index finger absentmindedly. You continued, “It feels so surreal, like it’s not happening.”

“But it’s nice,” said Sicheng. “It’s like a fresh start. Like all the mistakes I’ve made in the past year don’t count anymore, and God knows I made a lot of mistakes this year.” Sicheng stared up at the moon, smiling wistfully, his feautures glowing beneath its light.

You gulped. You kept your gaze on the sand below you, tracing shapes and squiggles. “Was I – Was I one of those mistakes?” You mustered the courage to look him in the eye.

“What?” Sicheng cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing the side of your face soothingly. You gnawed on your lip. “Are you joking? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me all year.”

Heat began to crawl up your neck and pool in your cheeks. “You’re just being cheesy, Sicheng.”

He shook his head. “I’m serious. I like you so damn much. You’ve brought so many smiles to my face and you’ve taught me to love and appreciate everything around me. To stop and praise the little things; the things I’d normally walk past. I—” Sicheng gulps. “Fuck it, a new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you.” The waves were calm, like they had been lulled to sleep by the moon’s song. “I love you.”

Everything around you hushed. The sound of the waves and the whistling breeze were moulded into a static as you stared into the genuine eyes of Dong Sicheng. You smiled, fresh tears beginning to form. Where your vision was blurry, your mind was now as clear as the seawater before you. You knew how you felt about Dong Sicheng. The boy you’d met in the bar. The boy you thought you’d never see again. The boy with a heart of ice that melted into a puddle at the touch of just your pinkie.

Dong Sicheng - the boy you loved.

want to request? go here!

requested by @constantpursuits

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pretend-writer · 5 years

Text

Sober: Part 2 (Supernatural x Teen Wolf)

Crossover

Summary: Y/N goes through a rough patch with her brothers and also with her boyfriend, Stiles.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader, Winchester x sister!reader

Word Count: 968 words

Warning: swearing, angst, alcohol

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

Two nights have passed; I was laying in the dirty old motel bed next to a really drunk man that I didn’t remember from last night. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know if two days have even passed.

A light groan escaped my mouth as I slowly got out of bed. While I wore back my clothes on, I felt a touch on my back.

‘Why are you leaving so early?’

‘It’s almost three in the afternoon.’ I said as I put on my shoes.

‘Well, are you in a rush to go somewhere?’

My hands automatically stopped as my brothers crossed my mind. It’s been multiple nights since I have been gone and I haven’t gotten a single call from them.

They weren’t even looking for me

‘That’s what I thought.’ I heard the guy chuckle under his breath. ‘Come on, give me ten minutes.’

He grabbed onto my wrist and pulled me in closer. I gave him a smirk, ‘Just ten minutes.’

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

Parking the Impala right outside, I stared at the house. I didn’t know what to expect from my brothers. I was baffled that I even came back. I wish I knew why I made this decision to show my face to the people that hated me but there was no turning back.

It felt odd walking into my own house. The atmosphere was already different, as if it was my first time coming into the building.

Footsteps echoed through the house as Sam peeked down. ‘Y/N, you’re home.’

‘Is it even my home?’ I hissed as Sam approached me.

‘Don’t speak to your brother like that.’ Dean roared as he barged in. ‘He was actually worried about you.’

‘My phone says otherwise.’ I sassed, glaring at both of my brothers. ‘Sure, just give me a lame excuse of why you never called if you were “so worried”.’

Sam let out a small laugh before he continued, ‘I should hate you for shooting me in my damn arm.’

It felt as though a dagger went through my heart. I was used to Dean yelling at me all the time because he was always the angry one. An insult coming from Sam was agonizing; it hurt as much as the time when Stiles broke my heart.

‘How dare you just march in here like you own the place after stealing my car.’ Dean bellowed, stepping in closer to me.

‘You’re lucky I brought it back.’ I joked, trying to hide my pain.

Rolling his eyes, Sam butted in. ‘So where’s Stiles?’

‘Why would he be here?’

‘I thought you were with him.’

‘It’s none of your business.’

Dean shook his head, ‘Typical. You know you reek of alcohol right?’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘You fucking cheated on him.’ Dean accused, fuming.

As I cocked my head, I was confused to why Dean was highly upset about something that wasn’t true. At this point, I didn’t even care to try to defend myself. ‘Yeah, I did. Why do you care?’

‘Woah Y/N, don’t lie to us. I know you’re just saying that because you’re angry, you don’t mean that.’ Sam said as he tried to put his hand on my shoulder before I shrugged it off.

‘Why would I have a reason to lie?’ I said with a straight face. ‘And don’t try to put up a front, Sam. I’m not stupid.’

My two brothers stood there and stared at me with a blank face. ‘You guys have anything else to insult me about?’

'How about an apology?’ Dean suggested.

'I’m sorry that I came back.’ I looked at both before I shouldered them out of the way and walked into my room.

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

Dean hid the keys to the Impala, possibly in his room but I was always two steps ahead of him. With the spare key that I had from a while back, I went downstairs. Luckily, my two brothers were still in my room, I was able to leave the house without any lecture about some other bullshit.

Swiftly, I walked to the car and drove away. Leaving the house and keeping away from Sam and Dean was the best for all of us. I had enough of this life, I was tired of this mess.

I was tired of being a Winchester.

Everything had to be perfect between us. We all had to fight demons and monsters, make sure that we do everything perfectly to keep everyone safe. It was bad enough that we have to be this “hero” but what made it worse was that no matter how much I tried, I was never enough.

The unexpected noise rang from my phone which startled me a little; it was a call from Stiles. Hesitant to pick up the phone, I grabbed it and answered it anyway.

'Y/N.’ He said in a soft, worried voice. 'You never called.’

'Last time I checked you broke up with me.’

I heard a sigh coming from another end, 'I-I know but I ju-’

'What do you want?’ I tried holding back my tears.

'Uh. Just wanted to make sure if you’re okay.’

Gripping on the wheel tightly with one hand, I mumbled. 'I’m not.’

Before Stiles can reply, I hung up the phone and threw it on the passenger seat. First Sam wanted to play nice and tried to manipulate me back into the house. I wasn’t going to let Stiles do the same to me too.

Reaching under the seat, I grabbed onto a bottle of Vodka that I hid before I left the motel. Without a care for life, I searched for the next place to stay for the night.

#winchester sister #winchester sister fic #winchester sister x reader #winsister #winsister fic #dean x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #supernatural fic #supernatural angst #winchester sibling #stiles stilinski x reader #supernatural x teen wolf #teen wolf x supernatural #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf fic

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shut-it-tinman · 5 years

Text

green light

character: bucky barnes

inspo: songfic of lorde’s first track on her sophomore album, melodrama

warnings: break-ups, mentions of drinking, some swearing, past mentions of death, past mentions of cheating, mentions of lying, gossip

word count: +1.6k

a/n: wow it’s been ages, sorry about that, but I am working on multiple things so hopefully more to come. also never got to post this on here, though I did on ao3 and wattpad. this was written a while ago. but yeah, hope you enjoy!

The car ride was shaky, and both Y/N and Jemma dreaded that they had let Natasha drive them. Wanda was fine, constantly saying that she’s dealt with worse with her brother trying for the fourth time for his driver’s license.

“Romanoff! Can you slow down? I’m trying to put my eyeliner on,” Y/N whined, as the car jerked violently into one direction, causing her to have a long wing on her left eyelid.

“Why what’s wro- oh my god that’s fucking hilarious,” Daisy giggled. Y/N groaned as she tried to look into her phone screen using it as a mirror.

“You would have finished your makeup if you didn’t insist on taking a nap before we would leave for the party,” Jemma said, snickering at her eyeliner wings.

“Is it all gone?” Y/N said, facing Daisy. She nodded.

“Yep, just a little bit right there,” she said, reaching her arm out to wipe the smudged eyeliner in the corner of her eye.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, “and now I’m done.”

“Finally,” Wanda grumbled, “because we’re here.”

The club that the gals had gone to, the one that they all frequented after their college lives, was dark, crowded, and loud with music.

“Hey, isn’t that Bucky?” Daisy whispered to Y/N as they walked into the club. Wanda gave Daisy a look and elbowed her.

“Ouch! What? I thought that their relationship was over.” Jemma rolled her eyes at the brown-haired girl.

“Their relationship is never really over, not when she’s still in the picture.” Y/N looked over to where Daisy had mentioned, and there he was, nursing a drink, probably something hard, like whiskey or bourbon, but he also seemed to be brooding over something.

“I’m gonna go say hi,” she decided, sauntering over to him.

“Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea since-” Jemma said, floundering to try and grab her arm before she left.

“Well there she goes, and she’s gonna have her heart broken again,” Natasha muttered.

“C’mon, let’s go take a seat and watch for her,” Daisy said, ushering them to a booth in almost line of sight from where Bucky was.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming,” Y/N said, taking a seat next to him.

“I was surprised that you called me,” Bucky replied, taking a sip of his drink. A bartender came to her attention as soon as she sat down, so she ordered a random cocktail that she could think of off the top of her head.

“I’m surprised that you’re now a cocktail kinda gal,” he said, downing his glass.

“Well, you seem to be into new things lately as well,” she said as the bartender set down her drink. She reached over to her purse, looking for her wallet.

“Let me get that since you’ve paid for mine last time.” She mumbled her thanks and took a long sip of her cocktail. “Brian, you can just put her drink on my tab, thanks,” he said with a smirk and a wink. Brian nodded and walked away.

“So how have you been?” she said. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“How have I been? Well great, Georgie and I have been great, fantastic, if that’s what’s you’re asking,” he with a smirk that he what was coming. He always did. Every Friday night, Y/N and her gal pals would plan to go out, and she would secretly invite Bucky to each gathering. And he would bring Georgiana just in spite of her. And she would yell, curse and even slap (only twice, unfortunately) him for bringing her along, especially since their relationship is technically not over.

“We’ve actually been thinking in buying a house on the beachfront,” he blabbed on and on.

“Wait, I thought you hated the beach,” she said, interrupting him.

“No I don’t. You hate the beach.” She looked incredulous, annoyed at him.

“I LOVE the beach, and you would always make a fuss whenever I would drag you along to the beachfront parties.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders, effortless and uninterested.

“I don’t what you’re saying, I loved going to the beach, and you were the one who would always make a bi-” And one slender arm wrapped around Bucky stopped him from talking any further.

“Hey Y/N, nice dress, though I heard it was from last season,” Georgiana said, all smiling with glistening teeth, but snarky as usual. Y/N rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm.

“Georg, you’re here,” Bucky said, his eyes softening at her appearance. He softly kissed her on the cheek, while Georgiana fluttered in utter joy. Y/N forced herself to withstand it, gripping her hands together from slapping the both of them but also rolling her eyes at their attempts of affection.

“Like I was saying Y/N, you may need to head into that charity shop that Bucky’s been tellin’ me that you love to find something that doesn't reek of desperation and yesterday’s mistakes.” Those words burned at Y/N, the urge to provoke her was rushing to the edge, closer and closer. He had told her. And she went there to donate the clothes that she felt she didn't need, to give to those less fortunate. He told Georgia and twisted the story. Not that shopping at thrift stores was a bad thing. They have the best Christmas sweaters for the cheapest price. She refocused herself, baring down any bad choices surfacing that she would regret later.

“Thanks Georgia, I really appreciate your fashion sense, and fuck you Bucky,” she said, sauntering away with her drink, back to her friends.

It seems as if Georgiana wanted to comment back, but Bucky tried to calm her down, like there was some sense of guilt and genuinity left for Y/N.

Eighteen Months Ago

“What are you doing?” she giggled, as he awkwardly bounced around to the techno music that thumped in the club.

“Y/N, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing,” he said with a goofy grin.

“Oh my god, you’re insane.” He shrugged, leaning in closer to her. Bucky wrapped his arms around her neck, and they stared into each other’s eyes. “This feels like a thing that people used to do in high school dances, not techno clubs,” she whispered, smiling softly. He stared into her warm eyes, and his lips curved into a wry smile.

“I love you.” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Wha-what did say?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiled, her heart growing by the minute at his confession.

“I love you too.” Bucky leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

This was the first time that he said the L-word.

Bucky had always believed that the word was reserved for “the person.” The person that he would say “I love you” to, would be his forever and always. Those words were the steady nod that he was in this for real, that this was real. And it was. Until something traumatic happened.

“He’s a dick. Like a super, dough-bag dick.” Daisy declared once Y/N settled back to their table. Y/N half chuckled in response, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Y/N, that sad picture of a man doesn’t deserve all the attention that you’re giving him,” Wanda said, rubbing Y/N’s shoulders in comfort.

“How does he seem to be at all the clubs that we go to?” Jemma said, thinking outloud. Everyone shrugged, some curious while others didn’t care for the reasoning why Bucky Barnes and his bitchy girlfriend seemed to ruin their nights for the past two months.

“That’s odd. Unless he and his crazy, bitchy girlfriend are stalking us, someone is telling him, because there is no way that it’s mere coincidence,” Natasha reasoned, taking a few sips of her Russian Vodka cocktail. All the girls looked at each other with steely eyes. Then, something clicked in all of their heads; they all turned to Y/N.

“Y/N,” Daisy said, touching the woman’s shoulder gently, “have you been telling Bucky where to meet up with us?” Y/N looked up at her friends, nervous.

“Maybe?” she squeaked.

“Oh Y/N,” Jemma sighed. They all looked at her in sympathy.

“Babe, you have to get over him. Move on. Break the ties,” Natasha said.

“Okay,” Y/N said, nodding. “I’ll do it. Just not tonight. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” The other girls nodded, and they all stood up from their booth.

“Well that was a night,” Daisy said.

“Sure was,” Jemma said, as they were walking out the door.

Y/N trailed behind them, watching them ask the valet for their communal car.

“Y/N, aren’t you coming?” Wanda said, turning back. The other girl nodded.

“You go ahead, I just need a minute.” Wanda gave her a smile, before darting off.

The club was still loud and full of energy as the night was winding down. Y/N could spot Bucky and Georgiana still sitting at the bar. A small part of her was waiting for him to look at her, but he didn’t. And then, she was okay with it.

She smiled to herself as she walked out, glad that she wasn’t gonna fall back down that hole again.

Bucky looked up, having the sense that someone was watching him. And he saw her, leaving, with no regrets. His heart panged, regretting all the pain that he had put her through. And he realized that it was the last time that he’ll ever see her again.

To: Bucky Dickbag Barnes

Since you didn’t have the courage to dump me yet, guess I’ll jump ahead. Also, since you’re such a dickbag, I’m breaking up with you over the phone.

And fuck you Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #content creation

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queenslasharchive · 5 years

Text

Under the pale moonlight

For @ronniesshoes, hope you like it!

[—]

1972

Brian walks down the street swaying slightly under the waxing crescent moon. Once in a while the constant dizziness in his head it’s too strong for him and he has to stop and lean on something solid to stop himself from falling directly to the floor. After a couple of seconds, when he thinks it’s safe enough, he keeps walking. He feels how the warm wind caress his sweaty face, but sadly it’s not enough to fresh him up a little in this summer heated night. Even if he has all his black shirt opened except for the last two buttons, he still feels how his body could combust in any moment. He hates summer. The heat is too sweltering even it is five in the morning, his shorter curls sticking at the base of his head because of the sweat.

The night was supposed to consist in just a couple of pints with Tim, and it was. At first. Then, those couple of pints mysteriously transformed into more bottles of beer and then it ended with them going to a stranger’s party. Generally Brian it’s not a heavy drinker, sure, he enjoys some alcohol just like the guy next door, but when they reached that party he was constantly offered more alcohol and it was like his body answered for him and he just kept drinking until he saw the bottom of the glasses. It’s Saturday night so he doesn’t have to worry about going to work tomorrow, the only thing he should be worrying about it’s about the huge hangover he is going to have tomorrow, but he is too relaxed to care about that. He had felt like he deserved to go out this night and have some fun. When he looked the hour on the clock at the party it was already for in the morning and just then he he considered it was a good time to call it a night. Tim, who was just as drunk as him, or even worst, asked Brian if he could managed to go home by himself, to which the guitarist just made a vague gesture with his hand and left the house. He doesn’t have money for a taxi because he already spent all of it on the bar. It’s not like he needs one, he is lucky enough that his simple and small house it’s not that far away from the city. But being this dizzy, and with the poor motor skills his body has now, it’s taking more time that it would normally do. He keeps walking clumsily, watching the familiar houses with small gardens on its sides of his neighborhood. There’s not a single person on the street now -of course there isn’t because everyone is sleeping inside their houses- and he doesn’t hear the sound of any car passing by. The night is quiet, the only sounds he can hear are the yellow lights of the street lights that flashing continuously. Feeling that there is too much silence, he starts singing softly ‘Nights in White Satin’ by The Moody Blues, shaking rhythmically his head just a little, not enough to make the dizziness worst.

Still walking and singing he closes his eyes trying to absorb the tranquility of the night. It’s not even after five minutes that he collides into something big and soft, the hard impact of the crush making him wobble and land on the floor on his back. He blinks stupidly at the dark sky a couple of times, trying to understand what just happened because he can’t imagine with what he just collided. He doesn’t remember seeing any type of construction in progress on this sidewalk when he left his house to meet Tim. After many tries, and with the help of a street lamp, he gets on his feet again. When he opens his eyes and look forward, his eyes widen considerably. In front of him, just a few centimeters away, there’s a dog. But this dog is so tall Brian actually has to look a little up to make eye contact and not looking down like he would always do. Its body is huge, too big for a normal dog and its fur is a light brown tone, almost gold but Brian can’t really tell with the yellow lights above them. Brian drags his eyes all over the animal’s face and studies meticulously the features of its face. He is so close to it that he can feel the warm puffs of air coming from its snout crashing constantly against his face. The first thing that calls his attention is its big bright blue eyes, studying him intensely too. If he weren’t that drunk he could perfectly see his own reflection on those big eyes, as it they are mere mirrors. He notices how its body it’s tense and it looks ready to jump at any moment, waiting for Brian to do something. He can’t help but ask himself if the roles shouldn’t be the other way. He looks at its big ears and its large snout and its long whiskers, which remind him of the string of his beloved guitar.

He looks at those sharp eyes again that are still studying him and now they even looked a little narrowed, and his own body reacts without his permission. “Pretty.” he murmurs as he carefully pets the enormous head of the animal, his long fingers caressing the soft fur. His eyes, clouded by the alcohol in his system, widen in pure awe. “Oh, so soft…” he cooes. He keeps petting tenderly while the animal blinks a couple of times, clearly taken by surprise. His tense body slowly relaxing under the ministration of Brian’s fingers. “So pretty.” he giggles stupidly while petting it for the last time and that’s the last thing Brian May does that night before everything turns to black and he faints. [—] He greets the Sunday morning laying on the floor of his house, his body near the front door. He is laying face down and his head twisted in a painful way. It hurts, everything hurts and Brian doesn’t see the point of living suffering so much pain. It takes him five minutes since he woke up to try and make a move. He raises his head from the floor and feels how his neck protests after hours of being twisted like this, making him moan in pain and that makes his headache ten times worst. He carefully lays his forehead against the carpet and takes a deep breath.

Now he remembers why he is always so careful with the amount of alcohol he consumes. Fifteen minutes and multiple pauses later, he finally manages to get up and he shakily reclines against the front door, trying to calm down the sharp pain in his head. He curses himself internally because the bloody couch it’s less than half meter away from the door, has it been really hard for him last night that he couldn’t at least crawl a couple of steps more and faint on the couch? He feels his throat like sandpaper and marches towards the kitchen with slow steps, looking for water. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes, the last one all thanks to the people present at that party. He really is in need of a shower but he needs some painkillers first. During his journey to the kitchen he doesn’t even turn around to look himself at the mirror hanged on the wall because the last thing he needs is a confirmation of his regrettable state he is now. After taking some painkillers to calm down the pain, Brian spends half of the day throwing up and the other half laying on his bed, trying to remember how he actually got home last night. The last thing he remembers clearly it’s had it call it a night, but after that he only has some sporadic moments that if you put them together they don’t make any sense. When the headache disappears a little, he picks up the phone from the bedside table and rings Tim, looking for some answers. With sadistic satisfaction, he notices his friend it’s not in better shape, he might be even worst than him. The only thing he gets from him it’s that Brian left the party by himself, insisting he could make it home by his own.

“And you believed me?” Brian mutters irritated, his deep voice coming out a bit raspy.

“I don’t know why are you complaining mate, at least you made it home. I woke up in a park without my pants and my wallet!” Tim grunts and Brian can’t help but snicker softly to such picture. After that awful weekend, his life goes back to normal. He makes the same routine every day like always, walks from his home to his job on the city. As usual, the streets are full with people coming and going, some of them bumping rudely with him. During those days he can’t help feeling a tingling at the base of his head and he feels like he is being watched, but he convince himself that it is due to be in an area full of people.

[—]

It been two weeks from that night and Brian allows himself to assist to a friend’s birthday party. Of course he doesn’t touch a single drop of alcohol this time, the memories of that night flashing through his head every time he sees a bottle making him feel already sick again. He stays completely sober the whole night, catching up with some people who think he recognizes until it’s one in the morning and he decides to leave the party. While he walks back home he feels the autumn making its presence in the now cooler winds. He raises his head up and sees the clear sky, looking how the few stars light his path with the help of the old street lights. He takes his keys out of his pocket and he is about to put it on the lock of his house when he hears something at his right. When he turns to find the source of that sound, the keys slide from his hand and they graceless land on the cold ground. Brian’s eyes widen considerably, terror and surprise are present in his hazel-colored orbs and he feels his mouth drops as well. He feels as hi lost control over his body and he can’t move a single muscle, an unpleasant feeling expanding through his whole body. His heart goes from suddenly stopping to beating way to fast. “Bloody hell…” Brian whispers to himself in disbelief. In the narrow space between his house and the fence, that leads to his small backyard, there is a, what at least he think it is, 6’5 tall wolf, big enough to make just a single jump and tear Brian apart with his huge jaw. He is not stupid, he knows better than turning his back and running away from a predator, even if said predator is impossibly bigger and taller than him. The beast, because that what it is, is illuminated but the old street lamps, the gold light giving its fur a warm look to his brown tone, its big blue brights eyes contrasting against the dark night behind it. Those hypnotics eyes are looking at him steadily. Brian doesn’t know how much time has passed, it feels like maybe it has been hours or just a few minutes. No one moves. Finally, the animals makes an uncertain step towards him, his paw big enough to scratch his whole face with just one strike. Instinctively, Brian steps backwards. Seeing this, it steps backwards too to its original place. While he brains desperately shouts no, Brian crouches, moving the most slowly possible and picks his keys from the floor, never breaking the eye contact with those big orbs. It follows him with its eyes but it doesn’t look like it has any intention of jumping over him, still, the guitarist doesn’t let his guard down. Still with slow movements, he puts the key inside the lock and gets to open the door. He practically throws himself inside his house, kicking the door from the floor to close it and locking it. Without even bothering looking through the window to make sure if the beast is still outside his house, he runs to his bedroom and he buries himself under the sheets, closing his eyes tightly. He feels like he is seven years old again, running away from his neighbor’s scary dog, all over again. His brains runs a mile per hour trying to find a rational explanation for what just happened but there is not a single possible theory for this.

It takes takes two hours before Brian finally falls asleep that night. [—] It’s like being a kid all over again, being scared of the unknown lurking in the shadows. Except that now he is a grown man and the unknown has been standing less than a meter away in front of him and on his own house. He tries to get home before the sun sets, which is getting harder everyday now that the winter is around the corner. He doesn’t go out to have a drink with friends or goes to see a if a new band gets lucky in a bar because those things always happen during the night. Not to even mention that now he has even more trouble sleeping at night that before, asking himself every night if that thing is prowling around his house. The feeling of being watched it’s still constant, but Brian blames his new paranoia, so he doesn’t focus too much on that. He doesn’t get to see the beast for a few days and he begins to think that maybe, somehow, it was a product of his imagination or maybe the stress of work he has over his shoulders. It doesn’t matter how real that night felt, it must be that. Everything goes back to normal. After dinner, Brian finds himself scattered on his couch, looking at some NASA documentary program on his TV. His eyelids begin to feel heavy and he knows he will fall asleep at any moment now but he doesn’t have the strength to crawl up to his bed. The soothing voice of the narrator on the TV isn’t helping at all on Brian trying to stay awake. He frowns slightly and ever so slowly he raises up his head when he hears a muffled sound coming from the kitchen. Still laying on the couch, he looks at the backdoor of the kitchen that leads to the backyard. He can hear soft scratches against the wooden door.

He remains still for a few seconds, hearing how they keep scratching the door. He prays internally for the sounds to be anything but exactly what he thinks it is. Quietly, he picks up the remote control from the floor and without taking off his eyes from the old door, he turns off the TV. “Stop it.” he pleads with a lump in his throat and blinks surprised when the noise actually stops. Something inside of him makes him keep talking. “Please, leave.” He swiftly sits up when after a few seconds of silence he can hear heavy thumps getting away from the door. Even with the walls separating him from the outside, he can follow the hollow sounds that go around his house to the front yard and finally disappearing. “This is not happening…” Sadly, that’s not the only time it happens. The scratches come back again a few days later and with more regularity, maybe three or four times a week. It always happens during the night and every time Brian asks it to stop and leave, the beast does listen to him and leaves his property with Brian left confused and surprised. Until one night it doesn’t obey him. Brian asks him with trembling voice, as usual, to stop ruining his door and to leave his house. When he hears the scratching stop he tries to get ready to bed when he hears pitiful wailing. His eyes widen completely and looks at the door in shock.

It almost sounds like a bloody hurt animal and Brian wants to die. It pains him physically hearing an animal whimpering in pain without being able to do something about it. He covers his ears trying to block the sound but he can’t because the sound is loud enough that can be listened in any place of his house and he briefly wonders if the neighbors can hear it too. His body betrays him and he almost ran to the door, opening it with a little more force than necessary.

“Please, just stop.” this time he orders with a stronger tone in his voice. To his surprise, the wolf is sitting on his hind legs, waiting for him. He stops wailing the moment he looks at Brian and he steps backwards a little, giving him space enough for him to get out of the house completely. The guitarist looks down at his door and sighs when he see it’s practically destroyed because of so many scratches. Gently he closes what it’s left of his door and walks towards the beast, standing away from it in a rational distance. If the wolf would want to hurt him it would have already done it without a problem the first time he saw it when he was back from the birthday party. He trembles slightly and he doesn’t know if it because of the cold of the night that goes through his thin long sleeve shirt or because of the intense gaze of the creature on him. It’s almost completely dark around him except for the light coming from the first quarter of moon and the stars above them, it’s enough natural light for him to be able to see the shape and the features of the animal.

“Hello…” he says because he honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t expect to be answered but the awkward silence is killing him a little. The beast looks at him steadily and he decides that there are too much intelligence in those orbs for it to be a normal animal, even though that has been clear since the first night he saw it. It makes a tentative step towards Brian and then looks at him, waiting for him to go backwards like the last time, but Brian forces to stay still. It gives another step closer to him and when it sees that Brian doesn’t move back he tiptoes slowly towards him until they are face to face. He takes a deep breath in when he has it just a few centimeters away from his face and Brian can’t help but to study its features. It’s incredible, he thinks. He raises a shaky without breaking the eye contact and places it on the side of its gigantic skull, waiting with his heart on his throat. He feels like he is having a déjà vu when the wolf rubs its head gently against the palm of his hand. Feeling he has some kind of permission and feeling spontaneously brave, he moves his hand a little more. His fingertips travel all over its face, its snout and its ears that are almost as big as his palms, the fur soft to the touch. When his fingers touch its whiskers, he picks one with his thumb and index finger and can’t help but to tug slightly, getting a small annoyed grunt. “Sorry.” he whispers and laughs softly when it snorts a little, the warm air crashing against his face. Brian keeps with his inspection for a few seconds more, he doesn’t dare to go pass its face though. But he is more than happy with what just got to experimented. How many people could tell that they had the chance to even witness such creature, let alone touch it? A warm feeling washes him when he thinks he could be one of the group of the very few people, or even the only one. After a couple of minutes of petting the animal he lowers his hand, satisfied for now. “Thank you.” he feels the obligation to say it. Those big blue eyes that show too much intelligence shine with mirth, then it moves its head in what it looks like an attempted nod. It steps back a few centimeters from him and starts jogging out of the back yard, probably leaving his property too. He stands still on the same spot looking at the grass on the floor, trying to comprehend what just happened. After a couple of minutes he goes back into his house a smile on his face because that has been extraordinary.

[—] The wolf comes to visit a few times during the week, always at night. Brian knows its waiting at his back door when he hears the scratches in the wooden door, so he goes out and and greets it. They spent every visit studying each other and Brian takes advantage of these visits to pet him. Sometimes just to fill the silence of the night, he talks to it about his day at work or something about him. Another times he sits on his old reclining chair that he has on the backyard and starts talking to it about the starts that are lighting up the sky above them, pointing at them as he speaks. The beast lies down beside him on the grass and listens carefully, sometimes putting his massive head on Brian’s stretched out legs. “I know you can understand me…” Brian starts one night he is sitting on the grass cross-legged and the animal is laying down with his head on its long legs in front of him. “There are so many questions I want to ask you… Why can you understand me? Why do you keep coming back to my house? Why do you spend the night with me? Do you have a name? What are you?” It blinks a couple of times and huffs heavily. It rolls to lay on its side and Brian doesn’t know what impulse him but he lays beside it. He trembles when the cold of the night brushes him and the wolf comes closer to him. Being that close of its body it’s like being wrapped in five blankets and stand right next to an stove at the same time, the warm impossible inhuman. Without even realizing he closes his eyes for a few seconds enjoying the nice warm that the wolf irradiates, relaxing every muscle of his body and finally, he gives up and falls asleep. [—] When he wakes up he discovers that instead of waking up in his backyard he is laying on his bed, wrapped in the familiar sheets. The blinding light of the new morning coming through the window bathing the whole room and making him blink a couple of times to adjust his eyes.

He really has to stop falling asleep in some place and waking up in other. He freezes when he sees another body lying next to him on his small bed. If he has to guess he would say that this guy is the same age as him, sleeping face down and facing him. He has long light brown hair that goes a little down his shoulders and framing his delicate, almost feminine, face. His closed eyelids have long and think eyelashes that they contrast with his tanned and immaculate skin. He also has a pair of full and pink lips that are a slightly opened. His body is covered by his sheet only from his waist down and he briefly wonders if the guy laying next to him is actually naked. He barely gets to reach his hand out a few centimeters when the stranger suddenly open his eyes. And it’s just in that moment that everything makes sense. He slowly lowers his hand while looking directly to those blue eyes he has been seeing during the the last months. To his surprise, the silence in the room it’s not awkward. “Hello?” Brian whispers without moving a single muscle. The blond settles until he is lying on his side just like him. “Roger.” his voice is deep and raspy, Brian doesn’t know if it’s because he just woke up or if that’s how his voice normally sounds. “Uh?” he says clumsily and his eyes betray him when they go to one of the corner of his mouth that raises slightly.

“You wanted to know my name… My name is Roger.” he clarifies, eyes filled with mischief. “Roger Taylor.” “Oh.” his eyebrows raise and he can’t help but smile a little. “Hello Roger, my name is Brian, Brian May.” Roger fully smiles now and that smile it’s almost as blinding as the light in the room, Brian thinks. “I know.” he answers cheekily and he snickers when Brian playfully glares at him, The peaceful moment is ruined when the blond’s stomach growls a little, his cheeks blushing a little. “Sorry.” he murmurs but Brian keeps smiling. “Would you like something to eat?” he asks and starts leaving the bed when Roger nods lightly, sitting up in the bed with the sheets pooling around him. “Can you borrow me some clothes? I didn’t expect to spend the night here so I didn’t exactly bring a spare set of clothes with me.” he smirks and that confirms Brian’s theory that he’s naked under the sheets. “Sure.” he babbles and trows him a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. They are obviously a little big for his thin frame but it’s better than nothing. “I will start making breakfast.” he tells him before he leaves his bedroom. Once Roger has changed into his clothes and sat on at the kitchen table, Brian serves him his breakfast. The blond practically devours it, clearly hungry. “It’s good?” he asks amused and smiles a little when the blond nods eagerly. “It’s amazing.” he promises happily. He swallows before he speaks again. “So… you want me to answers you some questions?” “Yeah…” he answers while taking a sip of his tea. “Well, first of all, the most important thing I guess. When I met you, you were drunk as hell.” he laughs, completely amused. “Seriously, who the fuck walks alone, and drunk, in the middle of the night? You don’t know how dangerous that is?” there is a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Brian rubs his eyes hard with his hands. “It was only that night, I don’t usually drink that much or I’m that reckless…” he starts but Roger cuts him. “You called me pretty…” he bites his bottom lip, maybe to stop himself from smiling. “What?” Brian blinks, owlishly. “You pet my head and called me pretty.” he is fully smiling now, clearly enjoying Brian’s embarrassment. “I like all animals in general, I think they are all pretty.” he defends himself in a flat tone. “Uh-huh.” Roger says amused, obviously not believing any of his words. “S-Shut up. Besides, what were you doing there, uh? Don’t you think someone would have noticed a giant wolf in the middle of the bloody street?” he asks. “Mind you, I was well hidden before you saw me and I didn’t hear anyone near by besides us… But then I heard you sang and I had to follow your voice…” the intensity in his gaze tells him that there is something more in those simple words, but he doesn’t dare to ask about that yet. “You have a nice voice mate, do you sing?” “Sometimes.” he shrugs casually. “You play the guitar and sing. Nice…” he nods absently a couple of times, his mind clearly in other place. “I play the drums, you know? Me and my mates, we kind of want to start a band but we are missing a guitarist. If you are interested…” “Are your friends…?” he is not sure how to complete the sentence, but he doesn’t need to because the blond understands. “Yeah, they are. Oh, actually, they want to meet you.” he almost sounds like he suddenly remembers something important. “Uh? You told them about me?” he blinks, taken by surprise. “No, actually… they figured it out for themselves…” he admits looking down at his now empty plate. “How?” Brian frowns, confused. “They smell you on me…” he murmurs. “At first they suspected something but they were polite enough to not comment anything. I liked it that way, it was like my little secret… But after a couple of days they start asking what was that constant smell on me or where I was going out all the time in the middle of the night. You think hiding something from your roommates can be hard? You go and try to hide something from someone who has all their senses heightened and they can practically read you like a book!” he glares at him accusingly. “Woah, woah, it’s okay!” he raises his palms up, shocked by the sudden change of attitude. “And what do I smell like?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him “Old books, and wet earth, and that tea…” he confesses, nodding with his head to his half empty tea cup. He smiles lightly, eyes looking down again. “It’s quite nice.”

“About the band…" Brian starts suddenly. “I would like to give it a try.” he admits. “But first I would like to get to know you better.” “You already know me.” he frowns, clearly confused. “And I know almost everything about you by now.” “No, I know the wolf that likes to come to my back yard and listen to me talk. I don’t know anything about you.” he explains and the blond blinks a couple of times. “Oh well, I guess we should fix that, don’t you think?” he smiles. “I would have like if we did this the other way, you know? I meet you first like this,” he says, making a casual gesture between them with his hands. “and then, if I feel like I can trust you enough, I would have tell you my secret. But we did it the complicated way first, didn’t we…?” “I believe so.” he agrees, amused. “Are you busy today?” “No, not really.” he admits and he has never been more grateful for Sundays. “Let’s go for a walk and then you can ask my anything you want.” he stands up and blinks. “Oh, if you could borrow me a pair of shoes too that would be great.” he laughs. Brian scoffs. [—] He feels a little weird going out with Roger in plain day light and he feels even weirder having a conversation with him when Brian is not the only one participating in the conversation. But that’s just at first, then the weird feeling fades the more he talks with the blond. Its clear that Roger Taylor is someone who likes to be listened, Brian decides while he listens to him speak about his hometown. Brian can’t help but wonder how frustrated it would have been for Roger being in a conversation where the only thing he could do was listening and couldn’t talk back. He notices by the corner of his eye how the people around them throw weird look at both of them and he can’t blame them. The blond is only wearing a T-shirt -his T-shirt- a pair of sweats and a pair of shoes, while the rest of the people, including Brian, are wrapped up till their noses, trying to protect themselves from the cold winter. “Aren’t you cold?” he can’t help to touch Roger’s skin and is shocked to feel that his skin is boiling, as if he has fever. “Nah, the perks of being whatever the hell I am now, you are a human furnace all the time.” he shrugs casually. ”You should remember, you fall sleep almost sprawled on me last night.“ he smirks softly. “Well yes, but I didn’t think it would still be like that when your… you.” They spent the rest of the day walking without actually going anywhere in particular. Brian listens to the blond talk and can’t help but notice that his voice is softer now and not raspy and deep like the first time he heard it that same morning. “I would like to hang out with you again, Brian.” Roger tells him when the sky is getting darker. “I mean, like this, where I can talk with you.” he laughs. “And I really would like for you to meet my friends. We live in a small department around here.” “Sure, I would like that.” he smiles honestly. Although the blond knows where to find him, they exchange phone numbers so they can arrange their next meeting. They say goodbye to each other and Brian starts walking back home while the blond walks the other way. [—] They go out a couple of times after their first time. They almost consist in Roger picking up Brian from his job and walking him to his house and chatting. Finally, after a couple of weeks they set a day so Brian can come to his flat and have dinner with his friends. “Ready?” Roger asks while they are going up the stairs to the third floor. When Brian nods, the blond adds a little unsure. “I just want you to know, they can be a little… intense, sometimes. But they are good people.” he promises quietly, almost in a whisper. When they are a few steps away from the door he opens his mouth to answer the blond but a shout from the inside of the flat stops him. “Darling, Roger and his boyfriend are already here!” a man’s voice shouts and Brian slightly blushes. “Oh for fuck’s sake…” Roger grunts, opening the door and stepping inside the apartment. “Could you yell any louder? I don’t think the old woman downstairs heard you… And he’s not my boyfriend, he is my friend.” he clarifies closing the door. When Brian enters he is received by other two guys. One of them has long brown hair, almost a little longer than Roger and a shy smile on his face. The other one has deep brown eyes and long jet black hair shorter than the other two and looks amused beyond believe. “I don’t know you, dear, but the other day you came back home wearing only his clothes.” snickers softly and then he turns around and concentrates completely on May. “Hello Brian.” he smiles politely, shaking his hand. “I’m Freddie, and this is John.” he points to the younger lad. “Hi.” the smaller brunette man greets, imitating his friend. “Nice to meet you both.” he smiles. “The dinner is almost ready… I think.” John says shrugging a little unsure. “We are not really good cooks, we usually prefer takes out… I honestly don’t know how we are still alive.” he admits with a little smile and Brian can’t decide if he is joking or if he’s actually serious. “I can give you a hand with that.” Brian offers shyly. “If you don’t mind.” “Handsome, sings, knows how to play the guitar and can cook… Roger, if you are stupid enough not to catch him, I will.” Freddie jokes and laughs amused when Roger actually growls at him. “Shut up, Fred.” he warns. It’s only then that Brian remembers about his clothes and that Roger never returned to him. Somehow finds himself not caring about that, picturing the blond wearing his clothes around the house. With the help of a extra pair of hands, John manages to finish the dinner and they decide to eat the dinner in the living room, sitting on the couches. “So, Brian,” Freddie starts eagerly and Roger tenses up. “how did you and Roger meet? He didn’t want to tell us about that and I think we were lucky enough to know your name and a few other little things about you…” “Uhm…” he looks at the blond, who merely shrugs. “I was coming back home from a party one night and I was pretty drunk and I… ran into him while he was a wolf…” he tells lamely because honestly, how do you tell this kind of story? There is a sudden silence in the room and when Brian looks up he only receives an unimpressed look from Freddie. “Just like in any romance movie.” John jokes with a little smile and the blond huffs. The conversation flows more naturally from there. They talk mostly about the basic things about them and Brian returns the favor, telling him about his work and little details of his life. He can not help but notice how John practically leans slightly against Freddie’s shoulder while Roger, sitting on the floor, rests his head on John’s leg that is stretched out behind him in the free space of the couch. He compares the image in front of him with the picture of a pack of real wolves, one on top of the other. He findes the scene a little cute. “Roger mentioned that you play the guitar and that you are pretty good.” John brings back to reality, looking directly to his eyes and he notice how green they are from his own seat on the single armchair. “He did?” Brian can’t help but feeling something funny on his stomach. “You have no idea, dear…” Freddie snorts softly and he effortless ducks to avoid getting hit by a pillow that Roger throws aggressively at him. “I’m sure Roger already told you but, if you are interested, we could meet and give it a try. What do you think?” “That would be lovely.” he agrees. When the nights ends, Brian decides he likes John and Freddie and he easily sees himself spending more time with them. “It was nice meeting you two.” Brian says, getting ready to head home. “But I should get going, it’s pretty late for me.” “Sure.” John says and Brian is surprised when the shorter man gives him a quick hug, resting his forehead on his shoulder for just a second. “It was nice meeting you too.” “It was, darling.” Freddie gives him a hug too. “I’m looking forward to our first rehearsal together.” he winks when he lets him go. “Can I walk you home?” the blond asks. “You don’t have to.” he frowns lightly, putting on his coat. “I know, but I want to.” he shrugs like it the most natural thing and maybe it is after all the times they had done this. “Oh, okay.” “If you decide to spend the night at his place again can you at least call us this time?” Freddie asks slightly exasperated. “Sure thing mum!” he says in a fake cheerful tone. “I hope Dad gives it to you good tonight so you don’t have to worry about me.” he adds still using that tone while pushing Brian to the door. “You little-” he starts but it’s cut by John’s stern voice. “Don’t speak to your mother like that, young man.” he warns just to add more gasoline to the fire and Brian laughs when the blond sticks his tongue out at him. Oh yeah, he definitely likes them. [—] They are walking slowly, taking their time. The dark sky covered with multiple stars and the waxing gibbous moon above them, the streets of his neighborhood almost empty except for some people and a few cars that are going and coming. When he had looked at Roger’s big cream fur coat with suspicion the blond only shrugged and answered that he likes the way he looks with it on, even if he doesn’t need it. It does look good on him, Brian has to admit it. “I liked your friends Rog.” Brian feels like he needs to tell him and the blond lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad to hear that. They are like my brothers, you know?” he murmurs looking at him, his blue shining under the pale moon light. “They are a big part of my life.” Brian hums, thinking he understand. The wind blows hard, the cold getting inside his clothes and caressing his whole body making him shiver noticeably. Without asking, Roger presses himself closer to his tall frame and he can’t help but sigh in relieve because the blond really is like a human oven. With the only intention on getting warmer he wraps one of his long arms around the blond and presses him even closer to him. “Roger?” he starts a little unsure because this is the question he has wanted to ask for a long time but he felt that there was still not enough trust between the two of them to do it. “What happened to you? How did you ended up being… like this?” He feels him fidgeting under his arm and getting even closer to him. “It didn’t happen so long ago, I think it was almost… only two years ago? I was having fun and drinking with a couple of friends around a bonfire in the middle of a forest, near my house back at my hometown. We were just talking and laughing when a bloody wolf came out of nowhere. Of course we didn’t think it twice and everyone started run to different directions and I had the bad luck that the fucking thing decided to follow me…” he shivers and Brian knows it isn’t because of the cold. “Everything happened too fast, it didn’t took it too long to catch me and bit me in the leg. I remember I kicked it in the face hard enough to make it let me go. It just stood there, watching me and growling at me for a couple of seconds and when I thought he was going to bite me again and for good, he just ran into the woods again.” he shrugs. “When I met Freddie and told him my story, he explained to me that because I was bitten during a night with full moon the fucking bastard give me this shit to me… if this would have happen any other night it would have been another nasty regular scar… I still don’t know why it didn’t just kill me…” “What is… what is the difference between any regular night and a night with a full moon?” he asks softly. “On nights with full moons we stop being ourselves and we become into animals outside and inside, as if your rational side just shut down… The closer the full moon approaches, the less humans we are… When that happens we travel a day before to a farm outside the city and then we come back when it’s all over.” Roger smiles a little, looking at him. "That’s why I never came to visit you during the nights with full moon, I didn’t want anything bad happening to you.”

After a few seconds the blond tilts his head up and whispers into his ear.

“Though I have no doubts that you would be a big beautiful black poodle.” he giggles and Brian pinches his cheek with his thumb and index finger. “Hilarious.” he says flatly, but internally enjoying the sound of the blond’s laugh. After a couple of minutes they arrived Brian’s house. The blond, still under Brian’s arm, turns to look directly at the guitarist’s eyes. His usually sky blue eyes are now an almost dark navy blue and May doesn’t find the willpower to look away from them. “Brian, I don’t think you understand the effect you have in me.” he cups his face in his warm hand and Brian finds himself shivering again even though this time he doesn’t know the exact reason. “Roger…” he whispers in awe and a little scared of how powerless he feels right now. His hazel eyes travel to those full lips and unconsciously he licks his own. “Can I kiss you?” The blond presses his lips against his brusquely and Brian feels an electric current running through his entire body, from their locked lips to the sole of his feet, making him groan a little. His long arms wrap themselves around the thin waist bringing him closer to his body almost as if he wants their bodies to become one. The sensation of his soft lips makes his whole body vibrate a little and small sparks of pleasure pop in every cell on his body. He moans softly when the blond slightly pulls his dark curls and he moans louder when the blond growls against his lips, obviously taking pleasure in the sounds he is stealing from him.

Brian feels like there’s not enough air coming to his lungs and he starts to feel a little dizzy. He pushes the blond gently by the hips so he can breath again but Roger doesn’t let him go and actually growls against his lips again, this time as a warning.

He doesn’t have other choice but to bite down on the blond’s bottom lip a little harder than it would be considered pleasurable, just enough to make Roger let go of him a little. When he gets to free his lips he is trying to get some air back on his lungs while Roger, still with his eyes closed, licks his own lips obscenely, his hands still buried deep in the mess of curls that Brian’s hair consist in. “Oh yes, I’m definitely going to keep you.” the blond decides in a deep voice. He opens his big eyes, pupils blown with a thin dark blue ring around them and Brian can’t help but moan. “Let’s go inside.” Brian almost pleas, touching his forehead with his own, and the blond smiles, pleased. “Yeah, let’s go inside.” he agrees. He takes Brian’s hand and starts marching towards the house, the guitarist following him eagerly, both leaving behind their only witness, the big moon hanging up in the sky.

#maylor #fic #submission #relationship: get together #fluff #roger: werewolf #magic au #au #secret santa gifts #pre fame #brian: drunk #brian: hungover

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just-jordie-things · 7 years

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Drinking Confessions (and a miracle too) - Richie Tozier

word count: 6939 warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking (lots of it), mentions of possible sexual harassment, pent up derpession and anxiety, aaaaand Henry Bowers a/n: for @i-heart-movies bc y’all were ready for some Richie Tozier and I am servin it up on a silver bronzeish platter lmao enjoy

Becoming friends was just about the easiest thing you’ve ever done. In fact, you couldn’t quite remember how it had happened. Sometime in elementary school you were paired up together for some science project, and one thing led to another and now you were best friends. And Richie Tozier did not look like the kind of crowd y/n l/n would waste her time with.

He was loud, and vulgar. He wore ripped jeans and band shirts. His language was about as foul (if not fouler) than a sailor’s. While he was smart for his age, he put no effort into his studies. He smoked on campus, spent fridays drowning in liquor at one of the more popular kid’s parties. So drunk he’d barely keep his eyes open. He got into fights with the Bowers gang, whether he started it or not, he always finished it. He’d spend days away from home, crashing at a friend’s place, once so out of it on a park bench in November.

You weren’t a quiet girl, and you weren’t shy. But you didn’t quite meet Richie’s extremities. You wore jeans, a sweater, something comfortable and soft. You swore, sure what teenager didn’t, but not to the extent of your friend’s obscenities. You drank with him occasionally, even sharing a smoke every once in awhile. But your clothes didn’t reek of cigarettes the same way his did. You stayed clear of any sort of drama, no matter what disgusting thing Henry and his goons would slur at you, you’d turn the other way and pretend to not have heard it. You followed your parents’ curfew, even though you knew deep down they didn’t give a shit if you ever came home. And most of all, you studied your ass off for your grades, for at least two hours a day.

But oh, the time wasted with Richie was time cherished.

You were sitting on your desk chair, feet up on the edge of your bed and knees bent to properly keep your Bio textbook in place. Flipping through pages and highlighting anything you felt needed reviewing. Richie, who was sprawled on your bed and feeding you nonsense about some stupid thing Henry did, was not so eager to spend his Saturday studying in your room.

“y/n, this is boring” He complained for the umpteenth time.

“You said that” You replied, words awkward as the highlighter cap was between your teeth. “I told you that you didn’t have to keep me company” You chided. Also not particularly fond of him distracting you.

“Why can’t we just go to Jess’s? It’s supposed to be fun” He prompted, hoping you’d cave and go to the party with him.

“We went last weekend, what’s more special about this one? They’re all the same” You said, capping your marker. Richie groaned and rolled his eyes, sitting up to face you.

“First of all, parties are for fun, and it’s the fucking weekend, so we should have fun” He argued. You let him go on with hi persuading. “Second, they’re not completely the same. Bill said he’d go” This earned a chuckle from you.

“Really? Bill?” You stated sarcastically. “He wants to go to party with a bunch of drunks, that always just ends with me trying to get you home before you puke on yourself?” Richie stared blankly at you.

“I’ve never puked on myself y/n” He stated matter of factly.

“Even if you had, you wouldn’t remember it” You said with a bark of a laugh. “Face it Rich, you just go to get shit faced and why can’t you do that here where I can take care of you before you kill yourself?”

“Oh please, I’d never-”

“Two weeks ago you didn’t make it home, and you spent the night on a fucking park bench” You said, trying to not sound angry as you reminded him of the incident.

When he’d told you that he was that wasted, you had completely blown up on him. About how irresponsible he was and that it was forty degrees outside and all he’d worn was a tee shirt and jeans last night. You yelled about all the terrible scenarios that could have happened if Stan hadn’t found him on a early morning bird watching walk. That he could’ve gotten kidnapped or molested or killed. Your anger only bubbled more when Richie had told you to chill because he was fine. He didn’t know your anger had come from a place of absolute concern.

“Right, and if you’re there, it won’t happen again” He promised. You chewed on your lip, still not sure it was a good idea.

“I don’t know Rich it just doesn’t seem healthy”

“Like you’ve got a clean ledger” He retorted sarcastically.

“Alright so I’m not a virgin pure but I am not as insane as you” You said, and both of you began to laugh. Richie shrugging, nodding his head knowing that compared to him, you were God’s favorite angel.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one” He said, liking the way you smiled as you tried to stop your laughing. “But still, you and I never have fun together”

“What’re you talking about we hang out all the time” You said, scrunching up your eyebrows at such an accusation.

“Sure, but we don’t go out anymore” He said, looking down to fiddle with your sheets and avoid eye contact. “We used to all the time, especially with the whole gang but…” You sighed, reaching your hand out to his, halting his fidgeting.

After the clown incident in ‘84, you and the Losers had made a literal blood promise to stick together, to come together if something this horrific ever happened again. But after Bev left town a few months later, everyone began to break apart. Ben was next to go, thn Mike, followed by Stan, and then Eddie. Bill still talked to you and Richie here and there. A brief hello in the halls, small discussion about your weekends in class. But other than that, it was just you and Richie. Which you’d grown to be very grateful for.

“I know” You finally breathed out. Keeping your emotions under control. It’s been a year of managing them and so far you hadn’t broken once, which you prided yourself for. It was much better to handle it internally instead of breaking down like a weak girl in front of him. Richie sighed as well, and shook his head to rid his own feelings.

“Anyways. We should go. In like… an hour” He decided. You nodded, half smiling as he grinned with excitement. “Really? We can?” He asked eagerly and you laughed quietly, looking back to your textbook.

“One hour. And no more than three beers!” You ordered, and he nodded, crossing an x over his chest with his finger.

“Promise!” He exclaimed, and you shook your head with laughter at his antics before getting back to your studying.

Now you could use those three beers.

“WHOOO!” All you could hear was booming music and screaming as you got out of your car, stuffing your keys into the pocket of your jeans.

“I can’t believe this is your scene” You sighed, but Richie grinned at you, pushing his glasses up his nose and slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Come on babe lighten up” He said, taking an unopened beer right out of some guy’s hand. The guy tried to chastise him, but was too drunk already to get the proper words out.

“Jesus it’s not even ten o’clock” You said, staring wide eyed at the drunken stumbling guy. Richie didn’t even cast a glance over his shoulder, just yanked off the metal cap and threw back a long drink of the beer. You cringed. “Beer is ghastly” You muttered.

“Beer is ghastly” He repeated in a posh accent he often used to mock you. Usually when you studied and would whisper things out loud to better remember them. You laughed, nudging his rib with your elbow but he just tugged you closer, opening the door and letting you inside first.

The house was just raging. With everything you expected to be at a high school party. Drunks, stoners, sluts, sweaty dancing bodies, hormones off the charts. You stuck close to Richie, like you did at every party you were dragged into.

“Come on hot stuff let’s go have some fuckin’ fun” He said, and you managed the best smile towards him you could as he pulled you with him towards the kitchen.

“No more than three” You reminded him, and he nodded, repeating the cross of his heart as he finished off the bottle he’d been holding. You ogled at how quickly he’d drowned the liquid, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Number two doll!” He hollered, releasing you and maneuvering his way to the cooler that was sitting next to the counter. He fished out a bottle, and you peeked down into the large tub of ice. Multiple things in there, and you were certain none of them were a cherry cola.

You sighed, shrugged a shoulder, and bent over to grab a bottle similar to Richie’s. He watched you out of surprise. Sure, you were no virgin to alcohol, but you certainly weren’t… well… experienced. Really just a sip when passing around a bottle, one drink from the spiked Prom night punch.

“Drinking for any reason?” He pondered, and you stared at him as you popped the cap off by wedging it on the edge of the counter. It flung somewhere you didn’t see, but you heard the metal clatter on the floor.

“Yeah” You said, throwing it back like it was normal for you. “To get drunk” You said. You swallowed thickly, ignoring the disgusting taste and the way it made your mouth and throat feel sticky.

Richie just stared at you, still holding his unopened beer. He didn’t know what to say, you’d never been like this before. But he felt some sort of relief that he was there, that if you ended up sick that he could take you home.

“Alright just… take it easy babe” He said, copying your actions to remove the cap, and taking a tentative drink.

“Mhm” You mumbled, finally stopping for a breath and wiping your mouth with your sleeve. His eyes flickered to your bottle to see half it’s contents were still there. He looked around anxiously, leg bouncing as his thoughts wandered off. “I know what I’m doing, I took Health last year” You told him, waving a dismissive hand before drinking again.

“Uh huh, stay here for a moment I gotta… I’m gonna use the bathroom I’ll be right back okay?” You nodded, beginning to bounce to the music booming throughout the house. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back” He said sternly. You grinned, setting the empty bottle on the counter and proudly looking at it.

“And mama says I never accomplished anything” You laughed at yourself and reached for another bottle.

Richie rushed out to the living room, pushing through the bodies in search of a phone, anywhere.

“Move, move, out of the way, move” He kept muttering, trying to keep his chill around the more… begrudging… bodies. “Move, fucking move!” He started yelling louder, being more forceful and plowing past the crowd, towards the staircase. He climbed the quickly, opening every door he passed, and jesus there were a lot of doors.

“Get out pervert!” A girl screamed, throwing what he through was a bra towards him before closing the door as quickly as he opened it. Snickering and wincing at once. Just as he was about to open another one, it swung open on it’s own. Nearly hitting him and knocking his glasses off of his face. But he stumbled back and adjusted them, seeing it hadn’t hauntingly opened. The person exiting the room being Henry Bowers.

“Damn Tozier… the fuck you doing up here?” he asked, raising a flask to his lips and throwing back a quick gulp.

“Looking for a phone, now get out of my fucking way” Richie groaned, pushing the older boy, (only by a year, but Henry was repeating senior year because he didn’t have the credits to graduate) out of the way and searching through the room.

“The fuck did you just say to me Trashmouth?” Henry taunted. Richie groaned out of frustration, not feeling the need to throw a punch and argue with Bowers, so he stomped back to the doorway, shut it, and locked the door so he wouldn’t give him any more trouble. “Pussy!” Henry yelled, then made his way back downstairs.

“Mullet wearing pig fucking asshole” Richie grumbled, punching in one of the few numbers he still knew by heart and listening to the line ring.

He could’ve sworn it had been five minutes, tops. Just five minutes of being apart from you. It had to have been, how much time could have possibly passed? All he did was go upstairs, and make a call.

But when he came back down to see you on the dining room table, swinging your hips around seductively to a song he knew you couldn’t have known, time seemed to have been shorter upstairs.

(Another explanation, he thought, was that all time had stopped, and it was the end of the world. Because this was never something he would’ve guessed to see)

And as he came back down to reality, that this was actually happening, he took in his surroundings. There was a crowd around the table, around you, cheering you on, waving drinks and offering you more. Richie’s mouth opened, and for a split second he lost all sense of how talking even worked.

“Dance! Dance!”

“Come on baby don’t stop those hips from moving!”

Everyone’s yelling and cheering and all the remarks- Richie was about ready to throw you over his shoulder and drag you all the way home, never to party again, never to drink again.

“Hey- hey everybody out of the fucking way!” He finally found his voice, shoving through a group of the more… vulgar commenting… boys. And that was saying something from Richie’s perspective. “Move! That means you asshole!” His voice grew more rigid, pissed that anybody other than him would dare speak of you in such ways.

“Richie?” You mumbled. “Rich what’re… you’re… why’re you ‘ere?” You slurred, your movements stopping as he reached out for you.

“Come on y/n, we gotta get you home” He said in his gentlest voice. You pouted, but took his hands and let him help you off the table.

“But I don’t wanna” You complained, and he wrapped when of your arms around his neck, seeing as even in flat bottomed shoes you couldn’t walk properly. His other arm was around your waist, guiding you quickly away from all these freaks.

“Your mom will be pissed if I bring you back shit faced” He told you simply. You stomped a foot, but it was a weak movement and didn’t even slow him down.

“But ‘m nnnot” You slurred.

“Yes, y/n, you are-”

“You heard the girl”

In seconds you were pulled out of Richie’s arms, and he spun around instantly to see Henry holding you upright, awkwardly. Richie could’ve socked him across the face right there.

“What, the fuck, do you think you’re doing?” Richie gritted through his teeth. Henry smirked back at him.

“Giving this girl the time of her life” He said. “It is a party, isn’t it?” Henry asked, looking to you. But your head was beginning to fall.

“No no y/n don’t fall aslee-”

“Fuck off Mama Tozier” Henry pushed Richie away, making the curly haired boy scowl and leap back towards him, taking you out of his arms swiftly and into his, embracing you against his chest carefully while glaring daggers at Henry over your shoulder.

“If you ever, fucking touch her again, I’ll shove that rusty fucking flask so far up your ass you’ll choke on it. It’d be kinda hard for you to suck dick then wouldn’t it?” He threatened angrily. Henry moved to swing, but some guy behind him grabbed his wrist and pushed him to the ground. The bully toppled with ease from his intoxication, and Richie thanked the stranger before rushing you outside.

“Rich?” You mumbled, and almost fell over, bringing him with you, if he hadn’t secured his hold on you tighter.

“It’s okay princess, almost to the car” Richie said softly, rubbing your arms to warm you up in the bitter night air of Derry. “I had a friend pick us up, okay? We can come back for your car in the morning” He knew that everything he was telling you was going in one ear and out the other, but he hoped that the gentle talking would calm you down.

“M’kie dokie” You mumbled, head falling on his shoulder as he guided you the rest of the way to the street.

“Fuck Richie” A familiar voice said, but you couldn’t quite place it. And you couldn’t keep your eyes open long enough to see more than a blurry, but… short figure? “Can she even fuckin’ stand?”

“Nope” Richie replied, opening the back car door, and hoisting you inside. You mentally thanked him, not realizing you didn’t even say the words out loud.

“Jesus” The voice sighed. “I’ve never seen her so fuckin’... out of it”

“Yeah. Me either Eds” Richie breathed. It was quiet for a moment, before Richie climbed in behind you, and the other boy went to the driver’s seat.

“Eddie Spaghetti?” You called, Richie’s slip of a name tipping you off on who your driver was. Eddie smiled to himself, glancing at the both of you through his rearview mirror. Richie was placing his hoodie around your shoulders like a blanket, and the thing was already too big for him so it looked like you were swimming in the material.

“Yeah it’s me n/n” He responded in a quiet voice. His mind filling with the sad but strong feeling of nostalgia.

“Yay” You whispered, fingers rubbing the insides of Richie’s jacket. Sometime between then and Eddie starting the car, you curled against the boy sitting with you, finding his body warmth much more pleasing than a nice smelling sweater. “Mm you haven’t been smoking” You whispered, and Richie looked down at you as you got comfortable against his chest.

“No babe, I’ve been trying to stop” He told you honestly.

“ ‘m glad, you smell so good when you aren’t” You mused happily. Eddie looked at the mirror again, both him and Richie sharing a wide eyed look. Eddie’s more of shock, but Richie’s filled with… well the germaphobe could’ve sworn he saw hearts in Richie’s irises.

“Thanks babe” He finally responded, and you smiled in response. A few minutes passed before he realized your breathing had slowed down. “Hey, hey try not to fall asleep yet okay?” He leaned down towards you more to tuck your hair back out of your face, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“Okay beautiful” You murmured, and worked harder to keep your eyes open.

Eddie snorted.

“The fuck you laughing at?” Richie asked, still caressing your back.

“Okay, beautiful” He gushed mockingly. Though it didn’t embarrass Richie the way that he thought it would. Just made his cheeks slightly pink as he looked down at your resting form, smiling softly down at you.

“Just a few more minutes” He promised you, and you nodded against him.

The rest of the ride was quiet, more back rubs and little noises you’d make when Eddie went over a bump or you passed a light too bright.

When he pulled into the driveway, you were just a few more minutes away from passing out. Richie slid out of the car, took you in his arms. Surprising you, as you’d tried to stand but he just lifted you up completely. If you were in your right mind, you would’ve insisted on walking yourself. But you weren’t sober enough, or awake enough, to care. So you wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled into him best you could.

“Thank you, Eddie” Richie said through the window Eddie had rolled down.

“Anytime. Really” He replied quietly. A sad smile on his face. “I’m always here for you guys… even if things have gotten weird and we’ve… well we’ve grown apart but… Loser’s club forever” Richie smiled back at him. “Give me a call in the morning and tell me if she needs any aspirin, I’ve got every kind known to man stocked up in my cabinet” Both boys laughed quietly.

“Alright Eds I will. Goodnight”

“Night you two” He responded, then rolled up the window, and drove back off towards his neighborhood. You looked up from his chest as he opened the door and went inside.

“Hey! Kidnapper!” You called out while he locked the door behind you. “This isn’t my house!”

“No babe, it’s my place. My parents are out on business… I think… and there’s no way in hell that I’m taking you home this fucking wasted. Your mom would beat the shit out of both of us” He told you. You pursed your lips and nodded, looking around like it was the first time you’d been there.

He carried you up the steps, not even turning on the lights so that your eyes wouldn’t hurt. The hall was short, he thanked God it wasn’t a maze like party-house’s had been. He walked into his room, carefully setting you in bed and wrapping you up with blankets. Your arms were outstretched, like you were waiting for him to lift you up again.

“No no babe, you’re in bed now, you can go to sleep” He assured you, rubbing your head with a smile.

“Oh” Was all you said, your features saddened. You shut your eyes and rolled over, and Richie took your turned away body to change into some sweatpants and a tee shirt for bed.

“What’s on your mind babe?” He asked you, adjusting his clothes as he walked around to sit on the side you were facing.

“I’m so tired of pretending” You huffed. Richie rose an eyebrow as he began to rub a hand up and down your arm.

“What’re you pretending about?”

“Oh… just that everything’s okay, that Pennywise never happened and I don’t have night terrors, that my parents aren’t assholes, that Henry doesn’t make his comments and that I’m not in love with you. Just tired of keeping up this whole perfect girl act in general” You were staring off at the wall, while RIchie was staring hard at you, his lips parted in surprise at what you’d said. His hand stopped moving, his body completely frozen.

“What?” He whispered. You yawned, covering a hand over your mouth before flicking your eyes up to his. “Princess, did you just… did you say that…”

“Hm?” You hummed nonchalantly. “I trust you, who’re you gonna tell?” You shrugged. “Just don’t tell Richie!” You said, hand grabbing is arm and looking up at him nervously. “He’d just-! He’d… well he wouldn’t be happy”

“Why not?” He asked, hand rubbing your arm again.

“Well he… he doesn’t like girls like me. And we’ve been friends for years so… well it just wouldn’t work” Richie smiled to himself.

“I think you’d be surprised, princess” He hummed. You stared up at him with round eyes, and he gave you a smile. “Okay, it’s getting late now and I don’t want to keep you up. You should go to sleep”

“Okay” You whispered, getting comfortable in the blankets and Richie fixed up your pillow for you. “Goodnight” Your voice came out in a mere breath as your body began to shut down.

“Goodnight beautiful” The trashmouth said softly, and reluctantly got off the bed. Just to sit in the old, and heavily worn down recliner chair. “Sleep well” He said, before his own eyelids fell heavily.

He woke up when he heard rustling and groaning, mostly noticing the quiet, “Oh fuck… damnit… ah shit… goddamnit” He peeked his eyes open to see the room was blurry. He squinted but when he moved to search for his glasses, they were already on his lap. They must’ve fallen off when he passed out last night.

“n/n?” He called.

“Shit Richie my head hurts” You cried painfully. Richie put his glasses on and rushed out of the room. He came back just a few minutes later, a glass of water and a handful of aspirins in his hands. You smiled as he handed you two of the pills, then the water.

“Drink that whole thing, every drop” He ordered, but kept his voice quiet so he wouldn’t disturb your head further. A whine left your throat but you tried not to complain.

You didn’t want to annoy Richie any more than you probably already have. You were certain that last night you were not a pleasant friend to have around. Besides the fact he had to take you back to his place, probably while you were disgusting and doing god knows what. And he was stuck sleeping on a chair all night.

“Rich I’m sorry about last night, I hope I wasn’t awful” You said, eyes narrowing as the sunlight hurt to keep them open.

“No not at all. The opposite of awful” He told you.

“Did I puke?” You asked, quietly, like you were ashamed of it. RIchie chuckled and shook his head.

“No babe, really, it was fine” He assured you, adjusting his own jacket on your shoulders. “I felt bad anyways, I knew you’d hurt this morning and,” He sighed, gesturing to yourself instead of finishing his sentence. “Anyways, I’m going to go make breakfast, you hungry? Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you” You told him with a weak smile, and finished off the glass of water.

“You sure? I could go pick something up too if you’d rather, but I don’t mind making anything if you’re in the mood for anything specific” He went on, and you smiled to yourself as you put the glass on the bedside table, only for Richie to grab it.

“I’m really alright, Rich. Thank you” You said, squeezing your hand around his wrist. “You’re going soft” You mused, raising an eyebrow.

“Psh” RIchie scoffed and shook his head. “I think not” He said, heading towards the door. You shifted awkwardly as he was about to leave the room, then followed after him.

“I think you are” You said, stumbling on your own feet but catching yourself.

“Did you just fall?” RIchie asked, turning and putting a hand on your arm to steady your balance. You would’ve swooned if you didn’t laugh quietly.

“You’re going soft, Tozier” You told him, before descending the stairs. Stuffing your hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

Richie huffed, throwing his head back as you went off somewhere on the first floor. “Only for you sweetheart” He sighed, and followed down after you.

You both had a bowl of cereal, Richie being nervous that you wouldn’t keep anything else down very well. You rolling your eyes at him as you tipped the bowl back to drink the leftover milk. Refraining from making another comment about his softness.

Not that you were complaining, you were loving this from him. The tenderness he now seemed to have with you. And you noticed, it was just you.

Through the rest of the weekend he babied you like crazy, wrapping blankets around you making sure you finished your work and showered and took your medicine, everything from a to z. He did it, and he did it well.

You found yourself falling more in love with him than you already were.

Monday morning rolled around all to quickly though, and when you dragged your feet out the door to where Richie was waiting, in your car, you scrunched up your face.

“Are you driving my car?” You asked, mind totally jumbled as to how he’d even gotten your keys.

“Yeah, you left it at Jess’s, so I got your keys Saturday night and got it back last night” You nodded, recalling now that you hadn’t driven since Saturday.

“Oh yeah” You said, buckling in and getting adjusted. Still wondering what had happened after you’d walked into the party that night. “I guess I’m glad it wasn’t stolen or anything. And doesn’t have some obscene carving from Henry Bowers” You added with a chuckle. Richie made a sound of disgust as he backed out of your drive and headed towards the school. “What?”

“Nothing, we just got in another dispute Saturday” He shrugged it off, but you looked at him with worry.

“Did you get into a fight?” You asked him, not having seen any bruises like he usually wore after a few rounds with the older kid.

“Fuck no, he was holding onto you and I don’t fucking know what he would’ve done if I started swinging so I just yanked you back and got the fuck our of there” He said. Your lips pursed, not having remembered Henry taking possession of you.

“He didn’t… he didn’t like… do anything… right?” You whispered, afraid to know the answer.

“Hell no he didn’t!” Richie called, suddenly turning sharply onto another road. Aggression coursing through his veins. “His ass would be grass, he’d be fucking rotting in a ditch somewhere right now if he had” He began grumbling angrily, and you reaching a hand out to his shoulder to stop him.

“Richie, stop, I believe you. If nothing happened, then nothing happened. I’m fine” You assured softly. He sighed, glancing over at you before his hands eased on the steering wheel. No longer gripping it so tightly.

“I’m calm” He said after a minute. “It’s just a lot happened that night. I was worried about you for a while there” He said.

“What happened?” You pondered.

“After we got you home, you just seemed really depressed. I don’t think you realized I was the one with you”

You rubbed your eyes with your fists, under the illusion it’d help you remember better. All you could come up with was a warm sweatshirt, and the smell of liquor on your own breath.

“We?” You asked him, having caught the nonsingular word slip.

“Yeah… I called Eddie to come pick us up. I didn’t trust myself to drive, I’d had a drink too, and you’d had… I don’t even know how much you had” He said. You shrugged, not having known that answer either.

“Eddie picked us up?” You smiled, and Richie nodded. “Was he… how was he?” RIchie thought for a moment on how to respond, knowing you cared more about that than he had. Richie had only cared about getting you home.

“He was happy that you were safe” He finally told you, which was the truth. “And he wanted you to know he’s always there for you too” You nodded, content with his response.

“Thank you” You told him suddenly. “I don’t think I told you that yet” You eyes wandered out the window, sighing as Richie pulled into the school’s parking lot. Nerves settled in your stomach at the thought that you probably did something stupid and now everyone would know.

“You don’t have to thank me. What was I going to do? Leave you there? Fuck no” You chuckled, smiling over at him.

“Alright, I won’t thank you then” You chuckled softly and gathered up your things as he parked.

“I appreciate that babe” He said, shooting you a wink, and tossing you your keys. You caught them with an awkward fumble before stuffing them into a pocket of your backpack.

The both of you walked into school together, both feeling uneasy about the day ahead of them. Richie more so than you, but you didn’t know what had happened the way he did. He noticed instantaneously the whispers, the odd looks and side glances. You didn’t seem to pick up on it, so he just directed you towards your locker as quickly as he could manage.

“So uh you have US History first period right?” He asked as you twisted in your combination.

“Yep, but I’ll see you second for Calc” You replied with a short smile towards him. Richie returned it, but it was nervous and shaky.

“Oh my God I can’t believe she even came to school”

“I know right? I figure she’d still be hungover or something”

Richie turned sharply to the two girls strutting past, having heard their whispers, he pushed his glasses up and glared them down.

“You have something you want to fucking say Miss I-had-a-baby-last-summer?” He sneered. You jerked your head up in surprise as to why he suddenly yelled out to Sofia Hasen, who had only been walking by. The girl scoffed, pushing her long curly hair behind her sassily and turning to him in her heel.

“Ya betta’ watch ya’self Toziah” She said, in that voice that made you cringe on the inside. The girl snapped her gum and glared at him. “I’m only sayin’ what I thought was ta’ be true”

“Uh huh, fucking walk on you leftover pile of AIDs” Richie retorted, stepping towards her threateningly. You knew Richie, and you knew that while he had his rough edges when it comes to fighting, he would never hit a girl. But right now, the fire in his eyes sure made it seem to you that he was ready to rip out those fake extensions.

“Rich” You murmured, putting a hand on his arm and staring at him with worry creasing your forehead. He looked at you for a moment, then back at Sofia.

“Just go fuck with somebody else if I hear your voice again, I might fucking kill myself” She scoffed, but walked off without another word. “Thank fucking God” He mumbled, feeling full of relief right up until you slapped his arm with your once gentle hand.

“What the hell Richie are you looking to pick a fight?” You scolded him, grabbing your history textbook and slamming your locker.

“She was talking shit I wasn’t gonna just fucking let her!” He replied, leaning over you. His curls bouncing as his body moved erratically.

“Richie what for fuck’s sake are you talking about?” You sighed, crossing your arms as you shook your head. He was making absolutely no sense, acting out strangely, and it threw you off. Not two days ago he was warming you up when you were already content, speaking gently and being an all around sweetheart. Now he was being an aggressive asshole.

“You… I’m talking about you y/n” He said weakly. Your lips parted slightly, brows drawn together with shock, and confusion. Richie hung his head.

“No, not you” You whispered. “They. They were talking about me” You said, expression void of any emotion. “What the hell happened on Saturday Richie?” You asked blankly.

“Nothing crazy… nothing crazy bad” He said. “You just danced around… on a table” Your jaw fell completely open now, eyes full of shame but also anger.

“Are you shitting me?” You said, and for a moment he thought you were angry with him. But when you ran your hands through your hair and your eyes filled with tears, he realized you’d directed that anger on yourself.

“No, no y/n hey” He whispered, holding your small wrists in his hands and trying to meet your eyes. “Listen, it’s alright, everyone gets drunk and does and says things they don’t mean…” He trailed off, remembering what you had said to him in private later that night.

“Said? What��d I say?” You asked, anxiety bubbling up and you could almost physically feel it spreading from your chest all through your body.

Richie opened his mouth to speak, not even knowing what he was going to tell you, but was cut off by the bell ringing.

“We’ll talk later, I promise, okay?” He said, rubbing his palm over your arm. “Let’s just get through the day and later we can chill out and talk” You sighed, but nodded. Richie gave you a small smile before pulling you into a hug.

Hugs weren’t new, but it’d been a while, and for the few seconds you were wrapped in his arms, all of the crippling anxiety seemed miles away from you. But as soon as he let go, you felt it creep back in.

“I’ll see you later babe” He said, earning a small nod from you, then walked off.

For the rest of your day, you noticed every whisper, and every look. And for most of it, you were completely alone.

“I think I’ll never drink again” You sighed out to Richie, dropping your backpack on the floor by your bed and flopping face first into the covers.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep” He chuckled, sitting on the edge of your mattress while you whined into your blankets. “This is all going to blow over, and something else interesting will take over the gossip in the halls. Who gives a shit about a drunk girl? There’s tons of drunk girls” He shrugged his shoulders but you didn’t move. “n/n, really, you barely even talked until it was just us. And I thought it was hilarious”

“I’m a laughing stock!” You wailed, rolling onto your back and waving your arms in the air.

“No, you’re really not” He said, though he chuckled at your movements. “Really, you’re a sweet drunk. A sad one too, but you were sweet”

“I’ve never even heard of a sweet drunk” You grumbled.

“Well if anyone would be, it’s you. You were all cuddly and very… kind”

“Kind?”

“Yeah, you called me beautiful and would not stop snuggling on me on the way home” Richie recalled with a good laugh.

“Oh my god” You covered your face with your hands.

“Oh it was great” Richie said between his small bursts of laughter. “Drunk you was in love with me, she told me so too. Then she passed out” He shook his head, eyes getting wet as he laughed and smiled so hard his face hurt. A true, genuine smile at hearing that slipped confession.

You sat up, sitting next to him now and staring at him seriously.

“What?” You murmured.

“What?” He repeated, unsure of what you were questioning.

“I told you that I loved you?” You asked, and he nodded and shrugged, not seeing the huge deal. You were drunk, and of course you loved him, he was your best friend.

“Yeah, why?” Richie asked, shaking his head in confusion. “It’s no big deal n/n, I love you too, you know that” He shrugged. “We’re best friends” It was quiet, with you still looking at him but much more saddened.

After years, you’d confessed unconsciously, and he didn’t even take it seriously.

“Richie, drunk me isn’t the only time I’m in love with you” You told him, nerves causing butterflies to flutter in your heart. The boy chuckled, but you shook your head, covering his hand that was keeping him steady on the bed in yours. “Rich I’m serious” You whispered, scared that he didn’t return the same kind of love you held for him. His expression straightened, staring at you with shock, eyes scanning every part of your expression, like maybe you were playing some awful joke. “I’m not talking about friendship-love of anything else I’m talking about actual, real-”

Richie leaned forward, holding your cheek in his palm and captured your lips with his. You almost sighed but kept it inside, leaning into him and wrapping both of your arms around his neck. Just as you broke for a quick breath of air your lips crashed together again. Like they were magnets to close to not meet. He was soft, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his other hand on your waist and drawing you impossibly closer. Your eyes screwed shut, giving him one last little kiss, and drawing back slowly. Reluctantly.

Neither of you let go of each other, just sat there for a moment and stared.

“You haven’t smoked in a while” You whispered, and a small smile tugged on Richie’s lips as he looked down at you.

“Yeah, you told me you hate the smell” He replied. Your own lips mimicked his as you shook your head just slightly. Your fingers moving to brush the long curls that hung over his face away from his eyes. “I love you too y/n… and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you a long time ago” He told you, and you hugged him tightly. Richie’s arms completely encircled your waist as he held you. “I should’ve told you a long time ago” He added.

“Yeah well… I should have too, ya softie” He chuckled, pressing his nose against your temple as he whispered in your ear.

“If you tell anyone I’ve got a soft spot for you, I’ll smoke in your room, in your car, and everywhere you go” You giggled at the empty threat.

“Oh yeah?” You mused,and he planted a kiss on your pinkening cheek. “Good job getting out a whole sentence without a single cuss by the way” You told him. Richie’s face gaped, surprised himself.

“Wow” He whispered to himself. “You my dear, are a Christmas miracle!” You laughed and shook your head.

“Richie, it’s June”

“Alright then you’re just a miracle” He said, and you laughed again.

“As are you Richard Tozier”

ok but finn sorta lookin like a grown ass man in that gif up there ??? he just gorgeous

xoxo ~ jordie

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wellhellotragic · 6 years

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If Looks Could Kill 23/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises. Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down. Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch up here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Present:

Three weeks. Probably the worst three weeks of her life, and that was saying something. Between Walsh’s adultery, Leo Swan’s murder, and Neal’s betrayal Emma had had her fair share of crap dumped in her lap. But for the first time, this was a crap of her own making - metaphorically speaking of course.

She was running on no sleep and way more coffee than the human body should be able to ever handle, chasing down one dead end lead after another. Frustration was coursing through her veins, only tempered by the guilt she felt and the knowledge that she had single-handedly fucked up the best thing that had ever happened to her.

She should have told him. She’d wanted to, planned to even. But then he was there, and they had shared their horrible pasts, raw from the emotion and in that moment, she had just needed him. She needed to feel like she was worth a damn, and when he whispered to her that he loved her, she should have told him – about everything – but everything felt perfect and she didn’t want to ruin it, so she pretended to sleep. Then they woke up late, and they needed to get back to the house. She thought she had more time, that she could tell him later that night.

God, why had she been such a coward? He hated her, and that was probably too light of a description. They way his eyes burned into her soul, the way his jaw clenched, the pure fury as he shouted at her.

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to let herself dwell on what was past. She needed to focus on the present, and staying alive.

3 Weeks earlier:

The first call she made when she left was to August. Ruby’s suspicions of their romantic entanglement aside, her friend’s gut feeling had been correct. August Booth wasn’t a clean-cut writer who made a name for himself by keeping his nose clean and obeying the laws. No, August was the guy that lurked in the shadows, bonding with the seedy underbelly of mankind.

He had a knack for getting himself into trouble from time to time, and Emma had always found it easier to turn a blind eye. But now, what Emma needed most wasn’t FBI files and surveillance videos. She needed to work outside of the system if she had any chance of keeping Killian alive. She needed August, his contacts, his connections. She needed to be a shadow.

They agreed to meet at a bar in South Boston. Not exactly the type of place that Emma would usually frequent, but they had alcohol, and no one would think to look for her there. Ruby had already texted her a few times asking her what she was planning. Emma had ignored all of them though. The less Ruby or the others knew, the better. For everyone. She resolutely ignored that it was that very line of thought that got her into this situation as she pushed open the door of The Red Queen Pub. It smelled of sin, not surprising considering who had picked it.

She’d scanned the room. There were plenty of dark hair men scattered around, but not the one she was looking for. As she approached the bar, she heard the conversations die down and could feel multiple pairs of eyes focused on her, and not in the lingering lusty way she was used to. The tension was palpable, and her fingers were itching for the gun tucked into the back of her pants.

She sat herself down at the bar, ordering a double of rum, straight up. The woman behind the bar was older, but looked like she could handle herself if need be. She would have to, given her place of employment. As the woman stepped off to the side to grab a glass and a bottle, her eyes lingered on Emma.

“We don’t get many of your type here.”

The accent was distinctly American, not what she’d expected from a room full of Irish lilts.

“And what, praytell, doesn’t that mean?”

Emma was trying to stay calm, but she felt like she was in the lion’s den, surrounded by hungry predators waiting for the first sign of weakness to pounce and devour her.

“Cops. You reek of it, dear.”

“Well thanks to recent events, that’s no longer the case.”

“So you’re undercover.”

The woman set the drink down in front of her and Emma heard a man from the other end of the bar call out to her. Cora.

She sipped her drink as she waited for her companion to arrive. Cora remained at the other end of the bar, but Emma watched as both she and the man across from her talked and stole glances at her. She’d heard about Southie bars. Most of them were innocent enough, tourist traps on the holiday and reputable businesses on the other days of the year. But some were run by Southie gangs, and she was fairly sure that The Red Queen fell into the latter category.

Emma was about three sips away from the bottom of the glass when the door chimed as August finally made his way in. Emma held her glass up, signally to Cora that she was ready for another. August told her he was going to find them a booth in the back where they could talk in private. He had left just as Cora arrived to refill the tumbler.

Emma stood and grabbed some cash from her pocket, throwing it down on the bar to pay for the drinks. Before she could reach for her drink, the older woman’s hands shot across the bar and latched onto Emma’s arm, pulling her closer.

Cora leaned forward.

“Look, I know it’s none of my business what you and that boy are up to, but I promise you that your pretty face won’t get you any favors around here. You make one wrong move, and I swear, you won’t get a chance to make another.”

The woman’s fingers relaxed and Emma ripped her arm back, already finding the tell-tale signs of bruises. Her eye’s fluttered up to Cora’s before taking in the room again. Every single person was watching her. She simply nodded at Cora, as a thanks for the warning, or a fuck off if it was meant to be a threat, as she grabbed her rum and found her friend in the back. August was in deep conversation with another man as she approached. The low muttering voices did very little to give away the nature of the conversation, and where August was involved, reading body language was nearly impossible.

Before Emma could sit down across from him, the man abruptly left out of what Emma could only guess was a back door.

“Friend of yours?”

She already knew the answer.

“Something like that. But I don’t think he has anything to do with why you called me.”

She took a long pull from her rum, letting herself focus on the way it burned in her throat and chest. August didn’t wait for her to say anything else. Instead he extended his hand across the table and grabbed one of hers. She could feel the bulk of a thumb drive between their joined palms.

“Admittedly, I though I’d have a bit more time before you called.”

“So did I, but things changed.”

She pulled her hand away from his, and tucked the drive away safely in her pocket. She felt the weight of his eyes on her as she finished off the drink.

“Emma, I know that you feel connected to this one, but I’m asking you, as your friend, as the closest thing to family you have to walk away. It’s bigger than you know and I -”

“Stop. I’m not walking away, so just tell me what you found.”

August’s eyes darted to the table, and she could tell he was frustrated with her. He hadn’t exaggerated in saying that he was like family to her. He’d always been a big brother to her, watching out and making sure the bigger kids didn’t pick on her, finding information for her when she was on assignment, and in return she made sure to keep his secret.

To the world, August Booth was a best selling author, a favorite for thought seeking crime fight books. It was only Emma that knew of ‘The Author,’ August’s alter ego. The journalist who always seemed to have an inside track on breaking stories. Emma was always there to feed him as much information as she was allowed to once a case was over, and he made sure that there were no connections to be made between her and his stories, which ranged from political corruption to social injustice as a whole.

She’d called him weeks before, while Killian was on one of his dates, desperate to end the case as soon as possible. That had been before she had allowed herself to become emotionally compromised, when she was still unaware of how quickly Killian Jones would be able to thaw her iced over heart. August had informed her that he was actually already in town working on a case that he couldn’t discuss yet, but he’d see what he could do.

Finding him in the distillery had been a complete shock, and she was pretty sure that the surprise he’d felt at her presence was equal. He’d tried to warn her of something that night, but he’d disappeared before she’d been able to get any information from him. The cryptic nature of his words had told her that he knew way more than he was letting on though.

“Emma, what’s going on?”

“Not here.”

Present:

“Emma, are you sure about this. Once we do it, there’s no going back.”

Emma nodded her head, letting herself out of August’s car. The house in front of them was little more than a shack. Wooden boards laid in place of window panes. The screen in the front door was ripped and all of the paint was badly peeling. Of course, she hadn’t expected much from a guy known by the moniker ‘Peter Pan’.

She tiptoed up the steps to the front of the house. All of the lights were off, and there was no sound coming from inside, but she still choose to err on the side of caution. With August playing lookout, it didn’t take Emma much time to pick the lock on the front door.

It wasn’t a hard task, given the age of the house, and subsequently the lock. It was a single tumbler and there was no deadbolt, unsurprising for the rundown neighborhood. This house was by far the most derelict on the street and no one would ever dream of trying to rob it, not unless they were looking for a waste of time.

When the lock clicked, Emma gave the door a slight push to test it, and was immediately overcome with an odor that nearly left her needing to empty her stomach contents. It was somewhat of a mix between sewage stink and rotting food. She turned back and gave August warning before throwing the door open wide enough for both of them to tuck through the doorway, relocking it behind her.

It didn’t take long to determine the source of the malodor. There were take-out boxes littering the floor of the living room, in various stages of mold growth. Something that she only prayed was mouse droppings scattered the entryway, if one could even call it that.

August made gagging noises behind her and swiftly pulled out the gloves Emma had given him before they stepped out of his car. She followed suit, not wanting to touch a single thing either.

They both knew that time was a limited factor so Emma got straight to work surveying the remaining rooms, trying to decide the best place to set up. The only bedroom was located on the second floor, which meant there was only one exit, the best option for her purposes.

The room was bare bones, with only a mattress on the floor and an old wooden chair. It wasn’t the best option, but she’d make do. As August grabbed the chair and moved it into the middle of the room, Emma started to unpack the small bag she had brought with her, setting it’s contents on the mattress: ducktape, a bundle of rope, a taser, and a small bundle of fabric.

2 Weeks Earlier:

Once they had left the pub, Emma and August headed back to his apartment, taking care to make sure that they weren’t followed. August went first, filling her in on a story he’d picked up on murder for hire. He wasn’t sure who the target was when he’d started the investigation, but as he followed the breadcrumbs his informant had left him, he came to the conclusion that it was Killian, which was only confirmed when he saw Emma with Killian that night.. Whoever had placed the hit was a man of great power and wealth, and everyone that he talked to was terrified. There were whispers that he’d ordered other hits before, but never one with such a high bounty.

Emma went next and explained the situation to him, omitting the more personal information, leaving August to believe that Killian was simply a case to her. A career making case, but nothing more.

She also left out the part about Milah. Even if August had promised to keep things off the record, it wasn’t her story to tell, and selfishly, she wanted to keep has much of him for herself as she could. Then again, it could have also been that she didn’t want to explain to August that he’d already had the love of his life and lost her, or confront the fact that despite the way he looked at her sometimes, she was scared that she would be nothing more than second best to him.

Between the two of them, they’d collected roughly the same information,

Hoping for some new leads, she called Ruby using a burner phone supplied by August, who in turn slipped her copies of the photographs and files from the investigation. She and Ruby had had the foresight to hide a burner phone in the broiler room as an emergency contingency. They’d been in enough tight scrapes to know that things went wrong more often than the went right.

Ruby promised not to tell the others that they were in contact, as long as Emma promised to come to her when she needed help. The information had been left in a manila envelope under a seat at a dinner down the street from the bureau. Emma and August had sat in his car watching and waiting for Ruby and Killian to leave. The camera crews were following them since the two of them were going on an all day ‘date’ starting with breakfast and ending with a movie in the park that night.

Killian and Ruby were sat next to each other in a booth, making eyes and sharing bites of the cinnamon roll on Ruby’s plate. A thought that flared the jealously inside her.

Real or not, hers or not, she couldn’t stomach the idea of the man flirting with another woman, of his lips touching anyone else's.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked good, considering. She worried that he’d dive back into a bottle of rum, or into the crotch of the next woman that threw herself at him. She almost couldn’t blame him. She’d hurt him after all, but she’d also seen a peek at the man that hid behind his walls. Her heart ached at the way his jaw ticked while the cameras were off, the bags under his eyes. He deserved better, better than alcohol, better than one-night stands. Better than her.

The admission nearly knocked the air from her. Her whole life, people had left her, abandoned her, and she had always felt as though she had gotten the short end of the stick. That life was unfair. But for the first time, she knew that she deserved it. For the first time, she wanted someone else’s happiness over her own.

She loved him.

She loved him. She’d known that she had strong feelings for Killian, but everything had happened so fast, and after Neal, and even Walsh, she didn’t think she was capable of feeling such a thing.

She waited until they were in the car and immediately ran into the dinner, making sure to claim the seat that Killian had just vacated, trying to feel his warmth left behind. August joined her, sitting on the opposite bench. They had coffee and conversed about his newest book idea for a while to avoid bringing attention to themselves before slinking out of the diner, back to August’s car.

Once they were back to the apartment, where Emma had taken up residence in the spare room, they spread the files out and both spent the rest of the week pouring over them. It was all stuff that Emma had seen a hundred times already, but August insisted that she look at it again. He rearranged the documents over and over hoping that seeing it in a new sequence would jingle something loose.

The files themselves hadn’t revealed anything new, but there was something about the surveillance photographs of Tamara and the mystery man that August couldn’t let go of. He felt the same familiarity that Emma had, but just couldn’t quite place him. Gathering five photographs, he told Emma that he would be back in just a little over an hour but, as always, he was vague about where he was going.

Emma took the break as an opportunity to research Killian’s background more. His file was full of incidences since he had moved to Boston, and contained some barebones background of his life in England. Nothing compared, though, to the sheer volume of social media accounts dedicated to him.

Most of them were fansites dedicated to worshipping everything about him, from his wardrobe choices to his elf shaped ears. One was even dedicated solely to getting peeks of his chest hair. That one made her smile, remembering the way it had felt when she had threaded her fingers through it while his teeth nipped at her lower lip. Pictures of him had been uploaded his time as school, concert venues, even dinners through restaurant windows. She couldn’t help but notice how he was never lacking for female company in the more recent photographs.

The ones that caught her eye though were from his time with the band. He looked happy in them, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. There were no demons haunting him yet, and she wondered what he was like back then. Before his life fell apart. In a handful of photographs, she saw a striking woman with raven curls and glacier blue eyes, and in all of them, Killian was watching her. It wasn’t just the way his gaze lingered on her, but the sparkle in his eyes. One she’d never seen for herself.

When August came back in, she quickly exited out of the windows she had open in the screen in front of her, but she wasn’t quick enough to wipe away the tears falling down her cheeks.

“Emma?”

She sniffled and tried to tell him that she was just exhausted and need the case to be over, but August knew her better than anyone. Well, almost anyone. Years of growing up together in the system had taught them how to read each other, the learn the other’s tells.

“And how about the truth this time?”

“It’s nothing.”

His brow tensed and she knew he wasn’t going to let up until he had an answer.

“Please, August. Please. Just let this one go.”

“You fell for him. Didn’t you?”

Her head fell and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt ashamed. Not for Killian. That much she was sure of. Despite the rumors and accusations thrown out about him, she knew that he was a good, honorable man, and couldn’t care less what anyone else thought, much less August. If she had to guess, it was something to do with the fact that she had fallen in love again.

August had seen her in the wake of Neal. He knew how long it had taken to pull herself back together, and how tightly she had shut herself away, keep her heart protected. It had become a source of pride for her, the immunity she felt. And somehow, in less than a month, she’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with someone.

“I thought- Emma, look, I thought this was just about getting your job back. If this is personal to you, on some higher level, then you need to walk away. Emotions are a dangerous thing.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Her voice came out more harsh than she had intended but she was unable to control her anger at being chastised by him. “I never meant to fall in love with him, but I did, and he’s in danger. I can’t walk away, so you’re either with me, or I’ll do the rest on my own!”

There was a long pause. Neither of them moved, neither wanted to be the first to back down. Emma had practice though, and a stubborn streak a mile long. She knew she could wait him out, and he knew it too.

Finally, he walked over to the desk she was still sitting at and placed a photograph in front of her. She knew it was the closest thing to a peace offering he was going to give her.

“How?”

Sitting in front of her was a photograph.

“I’ve got a guy, and let’s just say the less you know the better. I showed him the pictures, and he was able to capture enough of his face from each photograph to piece something together. Look like anyone you know?”

His hair was longer than she’d seen it before, but the receding hairline was just as it should have been. The eyes were wrong, but she was fairly certain that it was a best guess fill in from August’s guy. The rest though, the nose, the jaw, his thin cheeks, those were all right.

“Greg Mendell.”

Present:

After checking all of the remaining rooms, Emma had decided that there were two most likely places that the man would go into first. The living room was off limits. The area was too open, and if he discovered her or August, he’d likely flee and she’d lose her only chance at catching him.

Instead, she had instructed August to hide behind the door in the master bedroom. There were no other ways to escape, and between the two of them, incapacitating him wouldn’t be an issue. Emma herself chose to hide in the bathroom, behind a shower curtain. The bathtub was disgusting, but her desperation kept her focused on why she was there. Killian’s time was running low. In two days, he be finished filming the show, and she knew that at that point, he’d refuse further protection. He’d be a sitting duck.

This was her last chance, the closest they’d come to discovering who was after Killian, so dead cockroaches and suspect brown stains be damned. They weren’t going to be enough to deter her.

She heard the door downstairs open and close. Only one set of footsteps could be heard from the front of the house. The television came to life and the footsteps stopped. The pause was long; almost too long. She could only pray that he’d stopped to watch some random program. She’d been careful not to disturb anything, not to leave any hints of her presence there.

After about thirty minutes of standing in the man’s filthy bathtub, the footsteps started up again. She couldn’t see August from her hiding spot, but she hoped that he was ready. A shadow flickered across the bathroom, continuing into the bedroom. There was a loud thud, and then grunting.

She ran from the bathroom down the hall, hearing both men struggling. August should have been at a tactical advantage, but he wasn’t used to fighting or defending himself and she worried that letting him take the lead had been a mistake. She wanted to call out to him and make sure he was okay, but it would give away the fact that she was there.

Emma crept up the last few feet, trying to get a feel for what was happening, for who was where. When she saw August pinned to the ground underneath the weight of the man they were trying to capture, saw his hands choking the life out of August, she lunged, hitting him in the back of the head with the but of her gun.

The man fell over, trapping August under his weight, but August gasped, and Emma was able to relax slightly knowing that he was alive. She helped roll the man over onto his back, and August stood up, panting and gripping at his throat.

“Come on, let’s get him in the chair.”

It took longer than expected. The man wasn’t overly large, but he was surprisingly heavy, and August was weak and clearly in shock from their fight. They got the man set up in the chair eventually, and Emma grabbed both of the man’s arms, pulling them back so that they were behind the chair. She signalled for August to hand her the rope and she tied his arms together, much tighter than necessary, but it was her only chance and she wouldn’t risk him escaping.

For good measure, she tied each of his legs to the chair as well. Once she felt satisfied that he wasn’t going anywhere, she grabbed a random sock off of the floor and balled it up, shoving it into the man’s mouth. August ripped a strip of duct tape off of the roll and placed it over his mouth, ensuring that he couldn’t scream or alert anyone to his predicament.

“And what do we do now?” August asked, still rubbing and the newly formed purple marks on his neck.

“We wait.”

1 Week Earlier:

Greg Mendell. He was a low-level drug pusher on the south side. She’d seen his name and picture pop up in multiple investigations before, but he was so low ranking that he hardly made it onto anyone’s radar. Bringing him up on charges wouldn’t have done anything on a grand scale level, so most agents left him alone, only tailing him to find larger targets.

He’d been brought in twice by the local police department trying to sell a new designer drug similar to speed on crack. Its street name was ‘Neverland’, and from what Emma had heard, it made the user feel like time itself had stopped around them. Some people had reported hallucinations of shadows following them.

August knew him as well, but as an easily bought informant. Something that wasn’t surprising; he had the look of a weasel. August put a call out, setting up a meeting with Greg at a small shop in Chinatown. It was a place she’d never heard of, but August insisted that he’d met the man there before and it would provide a certain amount of privacy.

Two days later, they made the trek to downtown Boston. Emma had never been to that part of town, and everything about it overwhelmed her. The music, the colors, the smells, the sheer number of people milling about.

“Don’t worry. Soon everyone will be out on the street for the Lantern Festival and no one will pay us any attention.”

Emma nodded as she passed a set of of men beginning to don a large paper dragon. August pulled open the door to a small shop. Emma looked up, seeing a sign for ‘Dragon’s Herbs’ just above the entrance. Inside behind the counter was a man in long red robes. He and August exchanged a glance and nodded to each other.

“Stay out here and act like you’re looking around. If he see’s you with me, he’ll run.”

Emma relented, but not without putting up a fight first. It wasn’t until August reminded her that he was their best chance that she was able to check her pride. She watched from the entrance-way as he headed to a room in the back. Restless and eager for news, she milled around the store for a while, picking up packages and reading the backs before putting them back. The man behind the counter watched her, causing the hair on the back of neck to raise.

She was about to approach him, but the chime sounded above the door and a moment later she saw Mendell walk in. Any fears of being spotted were quelled immediately as he shuffled by, paying no attention to her or the man in red, and walking straight into the back as well. Emma moved to follow, but the man in red was faster than her, blocking her way.

“I know what you seek, Emma Swan.”

Emma frowned, unamused.

“How the hell do you know my name?”

“You need not waste your energy on me. Emma Swan, you are on a path to darkness, and if you continue this way, I fear you will not like where it leads.”

The man’s voice remained calm, further frustrating her.

“I don’t have time for this.” She tapped her foot wondering how bad it would be if she throttled the old man.

“There is a battle being fought. One between light and dark, and you are at the center.”

He stepped closer and her eyes looked away from him, focusing on the doorway to the room August and Greg were in.

“Death follows you. This will not end to way you want it to.”

She was about to snap at him, but just as quickly as he had appeared in front of her, he had disappeared. She looked around the room, but he was nowhere to be found. Emma tried to shake herself out of it, but there was something about what he said that lingered.

Death follows you.

It had been true throughout her childhood. Leo Swan. His wife, Ruth. Even Ingrid, one of her childhood foster mothers, who lasted all of seventeen days before she dropped dead of a heart condition. Her thoughts went to Killian, laying on the bed in his ship. She was so certain that he was dead too. Death had followed her for as long as she could remember, and if she didn’t hurry, it would again.

She ran into the back room to find Greg and August having a tense conversation. She tried to enter the room quietly, but her boot kicked a box on the ground and Greg turned.

“You brought a cop in here?” Greg shouted and tried to leave, but Emma fisted his shirt and pushed him back into the center of the room.

“Luckily for you, Mr. Mendell, I’m not a cop anymore.”

She walked up to him like a predator, eying it’s next meal. She new it wouldn’t take much to intimidate him based on his former dealings with August.

He tried to run again, but this time August held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t keep me here. You said it yourself. You’re not a cop.”

“Exactly.”

Before she could even think about what she was doing, or the consequences of her actions, the back of her hand made contact with his face. He cried out and when he looked back up at her she said blood dripping from his bottom lip.

“You crazy bitch!”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Who put out the hit on Killian Jones?”

He spit more blood from his mouth.

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Don’t test me.”

“I’m serious-”

“I’d listen to the lady. She has a personal stake in this and you know the saying. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Especially one who knows how to torture people.”

August raised his brow and smiled at her, elicited a small grin from her.

“Greg. I know you work with Tamara, and I know she’s accepted a contract on Killian’s life. Now, who put the hit out?”

She saw something flicker in his eyes. Something close to fear.

“I can’t say. They’ll kill me.”

“And what makes you think I won’t?”

The words had flown from her mouth before she even realized she was speaking, and part of her feared the truth behind them, because in that moment, the fear and rage had edged in, taking over, and she wasn’t sure that he was safe from her.

“Oh, please...” It wasn’t a plea, but a sarcastic bite.

Without another thought, her knee made contact with his stomach and he doubled over, yelling out in pain. Emma looked up to see the shock written in August’s face. She’d gone too far, and yet not far enough.

“Who put the hit out on him?”

“Emma-”

She felt August try to pull her away from Greg, but she wasn’t done. She didn’t have the answers she needed. Emma bent over and grabbed Greg’s shirt, pulling him up to his knees.

“I can’t tell you!”

Emma brought her hand back, ready to strike him again when he continued.

“I don’t know! I can’t tell you because I don’t know.”

Emma released his shirt and pushed him back down to the ground. She began pacing around the room. Despite his conniving nature, and the fact that he’d say anything to save himself, Emma could tell that he was telling her the truth.

“Shit.”

She starting ringing her hands together, not sure what to do with all of the frustrated energy built up inside of her.

“Greg, you said they’d kill you.” August’s voice was much calmer than hers. “Obviously you know something, so start talking.”

Greg looked up and gave Emma a quick glance before returning his attention to August.

“I’m serious. I don’t know who ordered it. We just got the contract from this guy. I don’t even know his real name. On the surface he’s a nobody, a middle man with a list of enemies a mile long.”

“You said on the surface?” Emma could feel it, he was holding back.

“He’s protected. And before you ask, no, I don’t know by who. I just know that the guy has more money and power than God. The dude’s racked up debts from every power hitter in town but he’s off limits. He’s untouchable.”

“And how do I find him?”

“I don’t know. He always found us. All I know is that he goes by the name ‘Peter Pan’. That should tell you something.”

“You mean that he’s a man-child?”

Emma snickered at August’s snark.

“No,” Greg rolled his eyes causing Emma’s hand to ball into a fist, “he’s unstable.”

Present:

After securing her prisoner, Emma and August set out to searching the remnants of the man’s room. Their initial search had been quick and less than thorough as they checked for weapons and escape routes.

She knew that he’d be out for another twenty minutes at least, so she started combing through his closet while August looked in his dresser drawers. It took about ten minutes of rummaging before August called out to her, holding a playboy magazine in his hands.

“Seriously? I don’t have time for you to rub one out.”

“Ha-Ha. But no.”

He handed her the magazine and when she started flipping through it she found surveillance pictures of Killian. They were dated over the last year, and Emma was stunned at how much planning had gone into researching Killian. There were notes on his favorite places to eat, to drink. Photographs of him on his boat were scattered throughout.

She was certain that she was radiating fear. A good portion of the photographs had been taken from a close proximity. They could have killed him hundreds of times already. The only thing saving him was the fact that he was a high profile celebrity in public places. Her stomach lurched. Whoever was trying to murder Killian was a man of patience, and that was even more dangerous.

One Day Earlier:

She slammed the phone down. Perhaps using her free time to do more research, or to even nap while August was out fishing for information would have been time better spent than torturing herself over Killian. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped to hear when she called Ruby, but her partner telling her that Killian was getting closer to Elsa certainly wasn’t it. She couldn’t blame him, she knew that, but it still pissed her off.

And then Ruby had confirmed what she feared most; Killian was adamant that he wanted nothing more to do with the FBI, or the protection it offered. They could still drive by his apartment, Will and Robin could try to pop by on occasion, but it wouldn’t be the same level of twenty-four hour protection he was under now.

He would be a sitting duck, and if she didn’t find the man responsible for contracting the hit on Killian in the next few days, Kilian would likely be dead within the week. She wasn’t sure which was worse; the fact that Killian might die, or that he was over her. No. That wasn’t completely true. Killian no longer existing was worse, but not by much.

Things with August had been tense too. Ever since she’d revealed to him her feelings for Killian, he’d been pulling away from her. Then after her actions with Greg Mendell, August had almost backed out completely, telling her that she was emotionally compromised.

It took days of reassurances and promises to get him back on board, and after her conversation with Ruby, she was worried that her mood would sour things between them again. When August came back to the apartment, it was to her slamming the kitchen cupboards shut.

“My hospitality doesn’t extend to my security deposit.”

It was probably meant as a joke to cut the tension, but it only further irritated her. She glared at him, but kept her mouth shut. She’d said enough horrible things to him in the last week. She didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

“Okay. What’s got you in a mood this time?”

She sighed, trying to rein in her anger.

“Everything?”

He chuckled and walked past her into his bedroom, only to emerge a minute later with a small gift bag. He set it in front of her and took a seat as the island. When she didn’t immediately reach for it, he leaned forward and pushed it closer to her.

“I told you I had a surprise for you. Now seems like as good a time as any.”

She was skeptical, but things couldn’t get any worse. Carefully, she pulled out the top level of tissue paper, and when she saw what was inside she laughed. A genuine belly shaking laugh. Her first one since leaving Killian almost a month before.

“I’ve made sure to grab a pack from every country I’ve visited. I figured it was the closest thing to international cuisine I’d ever get you to try.”

Sure enough, she pulled out the boxes one by one, inspecting all of the different languages and flavors. Eight countries worth of pop tarts.

“Thank you, August.”

She walked up and hugged him. It was the first time in weeks that she felt like she might just be able to hold herself together. The first time she’d felt hope.

“Oh, that? That’s nothing. I have something else for you.”

“What? Because unless it’s a bottle of booze from every country you’ve visited I’m not sure if you can top it.”

“Not even if I found out Peter Pan’s real name?”

Present:

The man’s eyes opened, clearly stunned and disoriented. It took a few minutes few him to gain his bearings, leaving Emma to question how hard she’d hit him. His eyes narrowed on her face and he started trying to scream, but it was muffled by the gag Emma had placed on him.

“Malcolm Gold. You know, for as many enemies as you’ve made, you may want to look into investing in a better lock for the front door.”

Malcolm looked over to August and he just shrugged in agreement.

“Now, I have a problem, and I think we can all agree that it would be in your best interest to help me.”

Even with the gag on, Emma could tell that he was stringing together a litany of curses towards her.

“Now, now. Is that anyway to behave in front of a lady?”

August pushed himself off of the dresser and stood in front of Malcolm, peeling the tape off of his face slowly as to cause the most pain. Something that surprised Emma given his reaction to her hitting Mendell.

“Well I don’t see any ladies here,” Malcolm spat.

Emma turned up the corners of her lip, smirking at him, tossing the pictures of Killian on the floor as she did so.

“Why do you have these?”

“Well isn’t that obvious? He’s a famous man and I’m a fan of his.”

“Ah, well I guess you had to hock all of his merchandise and music to pay the electric bill this month. I mean, if you’re such a huge fan, how else can you explain the lack of memorabilia?”

“Something like that.”

Malcolm tilted his head and grinned at her. He wasn’t going to to make it easy, and she was actually a little glad for it. She was raring for a fight, had been for months now, and he was finally going to give it to her.

Without warning, Emma grabbed the taser off the bed and shoved into his side.

“What do you know about the contract out on Killian Jones?”

“Contract? What contract?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Emma backed away and hit the button, watching as his body convulsed before her. It took him a few minutes before he was able to recompose himself.

“You bitch!”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Stepping back to the bed, she picked up one of the knives. Emma’s eyes moved to August, worried that he would hit his limit at any moment and would leave. He was clearly uncomfortable, but instead only turned his back, not wanting to watch what was next.

She tilted the knife back and forth, letting the light catch the blade. Malcolm’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.

“Now, I know that you are the one that offered out the contract. But what I don’t know, is who ordered it. Now, we can do this the easy way, and you can just tell me, or I can make you.”

Malcolm looked at her and sneered.

“You have ‘cop’ written all over you. Even you have your limits.”

“You know, I’ve been hearing that a lot recently. Want to know what I said to the other guy?”

Malcolm growled at her, and it was all the answer she needed. Her fist hit his cheek with such force that his chair fell over. August had to help her sit him back up and she asked again.

“Who put the hit out?” This time she was the one growling.

“Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.”

Emma’s blade slid shallowly across his forearm, with just enough force to break the skin and cause immense pain.

After the pain subsided, he started laughing at her.

“I get it. You and he have a ‘thing’ going, don’t you? I’m sorry to tell you this sweetheart, but he’s got a thing going with every woman in Boston, and then some. You’re just another one of his whores!”

His laughter rose and became almost maniacal. Worried about the sound, August rushed over and shoved the sock back onto his mouth and placed a new piece of tape over it.

2 Hours Earlier:

August had come through in a huge way. Malcolm Gold was exactly as Greg Mendell had described him. A mid-level southie with a penchant for trouble. The gambling debts were just the tip of the iceberg. He’d also found himself in trouble for money laundering, embezzlement, and a number of other smaller crimes, but somehow he’d always managed to escape any jail time or any serious indictments.

And he’d also managed to escape any repercussions from the other southies that he’d pissed off. He didn’t hold enough power to call off any of debt collectors on his own. None of it made sense.

August had managed to track him down, to get an address for him in a run down neighborhood. They’d spent the last few days following him. August followed him around town. He’d been seen hanging around in the area enough before as to not raise suspicions. Emma for her part, staked out his house, making sure that no one else came or went from the house. They needed to be prepared for any eventualities.

Once they were confident that they knew his daily routine, they formulated a plan. August had objected, but Emma convinced him that it was the only way. Time was running out, and she needed answers fast. She also reminded him that having a ringside seat for all of the action would make for one hell of a story later on.

Every night, without fail, Malcolm left his house for a pint down at the pub three blocks away.

They rented a car with a fake ID that August used on occasion and sat down the street. Once the saw Malcolm leave, they headed for the house.

Present:

Emma was seconds away from plunging the knife into his thigh when she heard a loud noise. The front door had been kicked in, and she heard what sounded like two heavy set men moving through the house. She looked to August, who had come to the same conclusion as her. Their whole plan had hinged on the one exit, the same exit they could no longer use.

She tossed the knife to August and turned, grabbing her gun off the dresser. Both of them bolted for the closet. If nothing else, they could use the element of surprise.

Emma had completely shut the closet door behind her, so she could only hear what was happening, they couldn’t see anything. August was breathing heavily next to her, too heavily, so he slapped her hand over his mouth in an effort to quiet him down.

The heavy footsteps came closer and she was certain they were both now in the bedroom.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

She didn’t recognize the voice.

“Looks like someone already did our dirty work for us.”

She didn’t recognize that voice either, but if the increased heart rate she felt thrumming in August chest was any indication, he did, and he wasn’t happy about it.

Malcolm was almost squealing; pure terror on his part.

“My employer has been kind and understanding up to this point, but his patience has grown thin, and your connections have tired of protecting you. You’ve created many enemies, Malcolm, and even more debts. I’m sorry to say it’s time to pay the piper.”

She heard Malcolm’s cries grow louder and more frantic. Then a loud bang, and nothing but silence.

#If Looks Could Kill #ILCK #wellhellotragic #hellotragic #cs ff

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kingofthenorth49 · 3 years

Text

New Year, Old Me

The smell of breakfast cooking is filling the house, my dogs is at my feet chewing on his indestructible dollar store ball as happy as a clam (ed note. – how do we know clams are actually happy?) and 2021 has begun with sunshine streaming in every window filling the day with the promise of a bright and prosperous future. Even Gloria is in the kitchen singing to the music playing on the radio.

Then there’s the 30 centimeters of snow forecast for tomorrow. Fack.

I love my Christmas vacations. We took a cruise for Christmas two years ago, I’ll never do that again. Not just the competition with 1300 little off spring for wifi when we were trying to sell a house Christmas eve, there’s just something about doing a whole lot of nothing for 10 days that really appeals to the inner child in me.

I’ve played countless hours of Minecraft. I’ve watched hours of videos. I’ve read, I’ve cooked. We’ve talked about whatr’s next, what’s been, and who. We’ve played with the dog, a lot.

The only thing missing was the kids. I miss them dear

Christmas was awesome for it just being the three of us. We did that on purpose.

2020 was a challenging year in many respects. We lost Ozzy in June, that was a major life event for us both that neither of us saw coming. Then there’s the plandemic, yes, tin foil hat in fully bloom, the politicians of the world are wrecking society over a bad flu. Even politicians in the 1918 pandemic weren’t as incompetent. As someone who has managed risk my entire career I can unequivocally say they fucked this up, likely on purpose. I say on purpose because there’s no way the stupid could be this collective. The costs to society based on the actions of our elected officials over the past year have damaged mankind (not peoplekind moron) and will have lingering effects for decades.

I just can’t grasp the level of incompetence I’ve witnessed in our governments, but I’m not surprised.

2020 professionally was one of my best years ever, mind you I worked a lot, but I’ve never been afraid of that. From mid-March until July I worked every single day from Moncton, dealing with bad decisions made by governments every single day trying to keep the country going. Imagine dealing with hundreds of governments, none who talk to each other and correlate activities. It’s an epic shitshow every day, but it’s honest work.

I’ve met some amazing new friends this year, and we’ve developed some new relationships. I’ve watched some of my team members grow exponentially, as well as watched some of my peers hit their stride. It’s awesome to see people at their best, and knowing you had a hand in helping them get to that place. That’s what I live for now.

Living back home has been a major challenge for me, not some much for Gloria. We came back for her, she wanted to be home and now she is. Life is good here, don’t get me wrong, but I hate living in the fishbowl. People talk too much and invest themselves in others’ business way too often, it’s that part of living here I don’t like. Everywhere else we’ve lived no one cared what kind of car you drove or where you went on vacation, but down east it’s blood sport. The difference for me this time round is I just don’t care what they think or say, their opinion means nothing. Unless I’m paying you for advice, I’ll give it the due consideration it deserves. The day I learned that was likely the day my life changed for the better, and I remember it well.

I’m starting to enjoy living home again, but not for the reasons you’d think.

I’m enjoying the familiarity of people again, the people who interact with us at our favorite restaurants, stopping and chatting with people at Superstore, knowing what is really going on in our community. Those are the kind of things you miss living the lifestyle we did for 20 years bouncing all over the globe. We missed that connection with community.

We are enjoying making our current house our home and putting our touches on it. It’s been a labor of love because as my realtor Cathy said the day we were doing the home inspection and I had a parade of contractors lined up on the street, there’s no way I’ll ever get my money back out of this place. Nope, I won’t. But I’m ok with that. I grew up watching this house and wanting it, now that I own it it’s fun to bring it back to it’s original beauty and improving it’s functionality. Plus we have awesome neighbors and everyone looks out for one another.

I like my job. I like my boss. I still enjoy what I do, and that’s a positive. I’ve been very fortunate to have worked with amazing people throughout my career, but over the last year dealing with a pandemic, 18,000 employees across dozens of companies and multiple jurisdictions who move the goal posts daily, I’m very thankful for the team I work with are all A players. We accomplished more this year than I would have ever thought possible given the circumstances.

Then there’s politics. Relax, you knew it was coming, I’ve not ranted very often about anything that doesn’t at least brush up against politics.

2020 was a political shitshow of epic proportions. In Canada we have a buffoon as Prime Minister who is selling out this country to communist China. He’s not even hiding it anymore. The WE scandal should have affronted every single Canadian and we should have marched on Ottawa to demand his resignation and incarceration.

But we didn’t. So we get what we deserve.

In the USA Trump lost a crooked election, and no, you cannot convince me otherwise. It was a surgical strike in key swing states carried out with militaristic effort. I watched hearings in Wisconsin, Illinois and Georgia. There was enough fraud to cost Trump the election. But am I upset? Yes, a bit. Will I get over it? Of course. The democratic party has no morals, the ends justify the means and they had no qualms about using deception and fraud to elect a senile career politician who has accomplished nothing in a 47 year career on capitol hill, one who is racist (not an opinion, there’s his words in video and print) and can’t remember what state he is in most of the time.

And they elected him with more votes than Obama? Seriously?

The entire election reeks. Thousands of consecutive ballots, all votes for Joe, with no down ticket selections. Consecutive. Let me say it again for the kids in the back. Thousands of consecutive ballots for Joe with no down ticketing. (Down ticketing is voting for a set of party candidates, so President, Judges, etc on the ballot). Can you even begin to grasp the statistical probability of that? Let’s just say the odds of having that many consecutive ballots all for just Joe are astronomical, kind of like getting hit by lightening in your basement on your birthday while having a heart attack during a solar eclipse.

Even that’s more statistically likely.

But at the end of the day, if congress accepts the electors then Biden will be my president. I’m not that stupid or arrogant to say otherwise, although I know in my heart of hearts he stole it. But that’s irrelevant, and he has to look at himself in the mirror every morning just like I do.

What I have learned in the past year is local politics are more important than national politics, and we need to move towards more local control of our resources versus Provincial or Federal control. I’m excited for our new town council and have great hope they will energize this town, as we are poised on the precipice of opportunity. People are relocating here from all over, buying homes sight unseen. Why? Because its small and safe. That’s my theory anyway. With the gig economy, many workers can work from anywhere (I did it for years) and why live in a congested city with all the issues and expense that come with it when you can live like a king in small town Nova Scotia. For the first time in my life people WANT to move here, not away. That’s a huge opportunity that we need to build on.

Anyway, I guess I’m trying to say that while 2020 had it’s challenges, for us there is a lining in the cloud that we shouldn’t overlook. We ended the year on a high note with the perfect New Years eve for the three of us, a few drinks, a cigar by the fire, and McDonalds. Yep, 2020 didn’t deserve anything more than a McChicken and fires.

So those are my final thoughts for 2020, the year has now passed and 2021 has arrived, full of promise, hope, and excitement. What you will make of 2021 lies within you, and you alone. You can choose to climb a mountain or read a book, but all I ask of you is you help us maintain the ability to have the freedom to choose. That is my only fear going into the new year is that we are allowing our freedoms to be taken away at an alarming pace, with no sign of resistance. That’s not a good thing. Once your freedoms are gone, you won’t easily get them back.

Happy New Year folks, its going to be amazing. Either that or the murder hornets show up and then it’s over.

Jim Out.

#itsover

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vizhi0n · 7 years

Text

Sawney - Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

So we’re getting into the fucked up shit, so pls read the warnings From here on out its gonna be bad. So yeah. In honor TWD night heres the next chapter.

Warnings: Torture, violence, rape. (I’m going to start tagging these with trigger warnings as well.)

Homies: @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @lucifers-trash-stash @genevievedarcygranger @superprincesspea @i-am-negan-trash @crzcorgi @kellyn1604 @mypapawinchester @my-achilles--heel @jasoncrouse @jeffreydeanneganstrash @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @kijilinn @gremlinfuck @melodicdolls @embracetheapocalypsewithme @lovingzombiechaos @heartfulloffandoms @strangersangel9 @hannibalssweaters @backseat-negan @manawhaat @mcnegan @darkangel66a @wolfhart18 @negans-network

“We’re heading back up in twenty. Everyone grab your things.”

Mason was giving the orders. The huddled group of survivors — just under thirty of them — obeyed. They moved past Desa and Jack in waves, keeping their voices down as they headed down the tunnels and towards the Estate.

Go with them.

The people were indifferent to Negan’s screams. They kept their heads down, covering the ears of the children.

“Jack,” Desa gripped her brothers hand. The smaller boy stared up at her in confusion, looking anxious. “Go find your friends, alright? Stay close to them.”

“I want to come with you—”

“No, you don’t. Trust me. I’m going to see if I can help Father,” Desa said firmly. “That man was my catch, so he’s my responsibility.”

Jack’s lower lip quivered, but he didn’t object. Desa ruffled his hair, watching him dart after the group. The sewer had filtered out, the sound of multiple footsteps getting softer and softer. Desa knelt over, hands on her knees as she attempted to steady her breathing before making her way towards the storage room, heart pounding. Negan’s screams had tinkered away into whimpers, and she had to mentally prepare herself before opening the door.

The room reeked of urine. She immediately saw the wet patch on the front of Negan’s pants — he’d peed himself. The blackened, oozing marks on his bare torso were clear evidence of what had happened. The pliers were in Father’s hand and Desa could see the blood and the strips of flesh, shriveled from the heat of the blowtorch. Negan was still strung up, and he was twitching, thrashing was a wild animal against his restraints.

While Father just watched.

“Father?” Desa croaked. She stood at attention, trying not to give anything away. As calmly and evenly as possible she said, “Would like me to assist you in moving him?”

“No. He’s staying down here,” Father replied. “The cellar is almost full, and he hasn’t…he hasn’t transformed yet. He’s not ready.”

“Father—”

He was ignoring her. Clicking those bloody pliers together while contemplating his next trick. Desa steeled herself, speaking louder.

“Father, I know that you and Mother both are against any sort of negotiation with outside groups but…we have leverage, here. But only if he remains alive.”

The pliers stopped clicking.

Negan lifted his head. Desa saw him glare daggers at the man before him, teeth bared in a silent, pained growl.

Leave, Desa, leave. You stupid, stupid fool.

“What do you suggest?”

“Keep him here, just as you suggested. But keep him stable. His community — the Saviors — they know where the Estate is. But they don’t know about this place.”

“If you wish to keep your toy alive, you will have to tend to him. He is your catch,” Father rolled his eyes, backing away. “I will speak to Mother regarding…negotiations.”

Desa let out a small sigh. Father placed the pliers back in he cabinet, grabbing a dirty hand towel and wiping himself off.

Negan’s belt was on the floor, his fly open. He was still hanging there, bleeding, body in a state of suspended shock. Desa moved slowly, adjusting his restraints to that he could sit on his knees, arms spread. He said nothing to her, just stared at the wall, jaw slack.

“Did Mother invite you to our bedroom?”

“Yes,” Desa replied softly, tightening Negan’s bonds. Father came to a stop behind her, arms crossed over his chest.

“And are you joining us?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Exactly. Mother and I provide for you,” he knelt. Desa felt his hand glide across his shoulder. “And we provide for everyone here. Everyone has basic needs. Copulation is one of them.”

Desa’s eyes shifted towards Negan’s pants. She felt the urge to snap at Father.

Did you fuck Negan before or after he pissed himself?

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight.”

He left, wiping off whatever blood remained on his pants. The iron door swung shut and Desa dipped her head, gnawing furiously on her lower lip as she knelt before Negan’s battered frame.

“Fuck you,” Negan spat.

“I just bought you time. He would have killed you or put you in the cellar. And if you were in the cellar, I would have killed you. Put you out of your misery.”

“So fucking generous,” Negan’s tongue looked swollen, and he was having trouble even speaking. “We have very different fucking ideas of what that word means.”

“I’m not supposed to be generous. I’m not allowed,” Desa cringed. “If I could give you more, I would.”

“Why?”

“Why would I give you more? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just in a giving mood lately. Maybe…I feel bad for you. I feel bad for them all. But I don’t do anything. All the death and torture, it’s on me. Because I didn’t do anything. But I am now — I’m going to try.”

“You can start by putting a bullet through that sick fucks head,” Negan spat. “Kill him, problem solved.”

“If I kill him, my little brother will be next. Listen, Negan, I’ll do what I can for you. I will. I swear. But not on my brothers life. I can’t.”

“How old is he? Your brother?”

“Eleven. He’ll be twelve next week. We think.”

“Is he your only sibling?”

Desa ducked her head, glancing around. The silence hung heavy, a palpable blanket spread across the entire room. Finally, Desa said softly, “No. It was…me, him, and my older sister. Sister went first. Dad put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger because he was a coward. Mom…she kept us together for a while. But things happen. People have agendas. She’s a corpse somewhere.”

“Shit. Sounds rough,” Negan let out a breath. “I don’t want to even fucking know how you stumbled across this group.”

“I didn’t. They found me.”

Negan shrugged, rattling his restraints. Desa did her best to end the conversation, standing. She stared at him, gnawing on her lower lip.

“I’ll get water. And something for you to eat.”

“You’re on duty, now?”

“You’re my catch. I found you, so I have to deal with you. It’s supposed to be a good thing,” Desa shrugged. “Rules of the house.”

“You ever thought about packing up and leaving the fucking house?”

“Plenty. But I am my fathers daughter — a coward.”

The moment everyone was settled, it was back to work.

Nothing had been damaged — the reinforced fences were still standing. The toy train set Jack had been working on had been left untouched, right where it had been left. Everything was the same. Or, at least, they were pretending it was.

The uneasy feeling in Desa’s stomach had yet to leave. It would stay, she reckoned, until Negan was out of her life for good.

The Saviors had scattered, displaced by the sudden ambush of biters. Desa had overheard Amy state that she and some others had confiscated the few cars that had been left behind. It would take a while for the surviving Saviors to get their bearings and come back with even more firepower than before. And it would take even longer, Desa suspected, without Negan.

We have time.

The day droned on, and Desa found herself getting into the same routine as always, with a few alterations. She’d patrol the fence, awaiting a scavenging order while, in her spare time, she’d go and check on Negan. She make sure his wounds remained uninfected, and she’d dump the waste bucket placed between his legs. A majority of the time he wasn’t awake, or he just refused to speak and instead stared her down.

“I won’t be back until later tonight,” Desa informed him. She was dressed in the proper attire, the clothes hidden beneath the heavy jacket she wore. One always had to get dolled up and pretty when presenting themselves in Mother and Father’s bedroom. It was more of a custom than a requirement.

“You got a hot fucking date?”

“No,” Desa replied quickly, surprised that he’d even answered her. His hair was slick with sweat, rivulets rolling down his bare chest. Each word he spoke was laced with pain.

“I’ll really fucking miss your company. Shit keeps me sane,” Negan licked his lips. “Why don’t you skip out on whatever dumb shit you have to do—”

“I can’t. I have to go please Mother and Father,” Desa shivered, looking away. “I wish I could. You’re better company than both of them.”

“What do you mean ‘please’ them?”

“What do you think I mean?”

“Are you talking about fucking? Because you better not be talking about fucking,” Negan tugged at his restraints, baring his teeth.

“I am. I don’t want it, but…I have an obligation. I can’t disobey them or else Jack’s head will end up on a pike, or worse, in the cellar.”

“What’s so fucking bad about the cellar?” Negan leaned forward. “Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“It’s where the bad people go. They don’t die, they just…change. They stay down there until they’re needed again.”

“Is that where I was going to fucking go?”

“Yeah. Probably. If Father doesn’t accidentally kill you, first.”

Negan let out a sigh, murmuring a few curses to himself. “I’m going to kill that fucker when I get out of here. Hey — is Lucille somewhere safe?”

“The bat? Yeah. Father put it somewhere. Probably in storage.”

“If you see her tonight, use her. Take her and bash that fuckers skull in.”

“Tempting. But I already told you why I won’t,” Desa stood, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself.

“Fine. Fucking fine. If you won’t, I fucking will. And I mean that shit. When I get out of here I’m going to kill every single one of them. I might just kill you, too. I’m not fucking dying in here. I’m fucking not.”

#vizhi0nw #negans thirst squad #tw: rape #tw: torture

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