#and then the cops came and i was just running around like crazy trying to fix everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abbyromanoff · 10 months

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YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE

PAIRINGS: GF!Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 5,142

WARNINGS: Nat is ghost face, smut, killing, blood, dark!Nat, Nat has a dick, cnc, dubcon, daddy kink, begging, praise, degrading, fingering, facials, dry-humping, knives, carving, pain kink, hair pulling, manipulation, size kink, tummy bulges, blowjobs, breeding, unprotected sex, kinda dark!R, very dark descriptions of death, kinda depressed!r, mentions of cheating (no cheating actually happens tho), think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Your eerie apartment was filled with complete silence. You could hear the clock on the wall slowly ticking away at your life, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You couldn’t find it in you to care if your entire existence would vanish in the spot, there was nothing left for you to live for anyways.

You clicked through the channels mindlessly, hoping to find something that could entertain you. The pizza box left on the table had three pieces left - all cold. Your girlfriend had been out for god knows how long. Your phone was next to you, taking Nat’s spot on the couch. It was nearly dead, but that didn’t matter, you didn’t get any notifications anyways.

Suddenly, after minutes of surfing through the tv, the blasting sounds of a breaking emergency filled your ears. The news reporter, a blonde woman most likely in her late thirties, stared dead into your eyes without knowledge of it. She read the words from the telegraph, a small shake in her voice as the man next to her hid a fearful gulp.

It started a few months ago, people reported dead all around the city. The only problem was that it was New York, there were small and large crimes daily; no cop, no matter how good, would ever be able to figure out who was the masked killer.

There had already been over ten found bodies, there was a small part of you who wished you were one of them. Blood would smear the walls of the victim's houses, a new letter to create a large sentence being designed ever so slowly. You wondered what they’d do if they got to each letter, would they stop? Would they be caught beforehand? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to know.

Every video you found online was all about the same topic, who is this new Ghostface, as they called him. When would he strike again? Is it even a he? You didn’t bother, they were just a bunch of conspiracy theorists who had such little to do in their lives that they became so invested in others. So what if they were crazy? Isn’t everyone at least a little bit?

You could hear the sound of keys dangling outside of your door and rolled your eyes, she was back.

“Hey, beautiful.” She muttered when she got near you, planting a kiss on top of your head and climbing onto the couch. She took the spot next to you, accidentally sitting on your drained phone.

“Look who’s home.” She tried placing her arm around your neck, only to feel you shuffle away. You wouldn’t even look at her, only going to stand up and grab the recycling left on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, are you really mad at me?” She attempted to pull you back down, make you sit with her so she can finally hold you; but you shrugged her off. She sighed, rolling her head back and trying to find comfort in the cheap sofa that did nothing for her.

“Why would I be mad? Because you were out all night and didn’t bother to text me or call me back? Or maybe because you smell like that bitches perfume?” You asked, sarcasm evident in your voice. She groaned and stood back up, yawning as she walked into the kitchen where you stood, back facing her as you scrubbed the dishes.

She watched you for a moment, her side leaning on the fridge as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. She waited for anything else, any other comment, but none came. Instead, she grabbed a warm beer from the six-pack box that was resting on the floor next to the counter. She easily popped open the cap and flicked it in the direction of the trash, hoping it made it in.

Your gaze traveled to the side when you noticed the glass bottle being placed next to you and let out a deep and frustrated sigh as you felt her hands rubbing your arms.

“You really think I’d fuck someone else when I have you right here?” She smirked with pure cockiness, it nearly made you want to puke. When you still did not indicate forgiveness or submitting, her smirk dropped.

“Why don’t you believe me, doll? I give you everything you ask and you still don’t trust me?” You felt her crotch poking your backside and tried to hide the goosebumps that arose to the surface. Her hands were gentle as they moved your hair to one side, letting your neck be displayed as you subconsciously leaned into her pecks. She kissed from your exposed shoulder up to your jawline, stopping there as you felt her hot breath against your cold skin.

“Nat-”

“Shh, isn’t this what you wanted?” You showed no evidence to prove her right. You wanted her to feel bad, it’s what she deserved. Who was she to think she can just take off whenever she wants, fuck who she wants, and have the audacity to get annoyed at your worries.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad, makes me just wanna- take you right here.” You felt her hands slide down your pants and dip into your panties. She audibly gasped when feeling your wetness gushing on her fingers.

“You want this, hm? You want daddy’s fingers?” Your palms gripped the ends of your countertop as her middle finger rubbed your clit slowly.

“More.” You choked out, your hips involuntarily grinding into her, chasing the pleasure. She chuckled, shaking her head and tsking.

“No, no, you need to tell me you want it, baby girl.” Your mouth opened, only to release a silent scream as she eased a finger into you. You fucking hated her, despised her, but she knew you perfectly, she knew exactly how to make you tell her how much you love her.

“I want it.” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. You groaned in annoyance, your hand traveling to your chest where you palmed your tits.

“I want it…daddy. I want you, please.” You struggled to get out through gritted teeth, hating how the words sounded coming from your mouth. This was the last time she’d get away with something through fucking you, you’d tell yourself, yet you seemed to repeat those words in your mind every single time. And every single time you ended up back in this situation, orgasms rushing through you while you acted like a desperate whore for any sort of attention she’d offer.

You wondered if her other woman felt the same as you, who couldn’t despise her every move?

“That’s a good girl, you’re daddy’s good little girl, right?” You nodded, your head falling on her shoulder as you tried to find hold of something. Her cock rubbed against your skin as she fucked herself to your pleasured state.

“Cum with me. Make a fucking mess, you slut.”

Your sleeping body laid with the blanket covering only your chest to the tops of your thighs. Nat was next to you, brushing the hair out of your face and smiling at your state. You look beautiful, you always did, but you looked even better when you were shut up for once. She wished she could just fuck that attitude right out of you.

Of course, she wasn’t cheating, no idiot would do such a thing to someone like you. You were a feisty little thing, if you ever found out she was cheating you’d beat her ass into her own grave and plead insanity - she taught you well.

“I’ll be back soon, pretty girl.” She whispered even when knowing you couldn’t hear such words. You shuffled in your sleep and she gave your forehead one last kiss before standing, finding a new pair of boxers and a bra before grabbing her clothing. She had everything she needed in her bag - her mask, outfit, and most importantly, her knife. The best part about it all was that the knife was a custom design you ordered for her for your first Christmas as a pair. It had her initials on it with a heart next to it, reminding her of your love. Your past love for her at least, everything was different now. She didn’t want to hurt you, but you couldn’t figure her out just yet. She’d tell you eventually, she wanted to, she loved nothing more than bragging about her killings, and with you, she’d finally have someone to do so with.

There was still that fear that you wouldn’t accept it though, it wasn’t exactly an easy topic to be brought up. But she couldn’t wait to prove to you that she was in fact loyal, just maybe not clean of her sins.

With one last glance, she left, closing the door behind her and walking down the stairs of the cheap building, shuffling the bag from shoulder to shoulder. She threw it in the car once she found her keys, settling herself in the driver's seat and preparing herself before driving off, her main destination in mind.

“Alright, Mar, let’s see just how well you handle it.” She mumbled to herself, her elbow slamming into the glass of the woman’s back window. She was in, the easiest part was done, and now it was just her time to have fun.

When you woke in the middle of the night, 2:43 AM reading on the clock, you searched for your lover, only to come up empty-handed. You bit back the bile in your throat and threw the blanket over you angrily, grabbing the suitcase you kept under your bed. It was meant for trips, now it was being used to kick out your girlfriend; if she even was that anymore. You didn’t know what changed her, who changed her, but you were done. If she wanted someone else then she could have them, she already used up all the chances you offered her.

Then, there was the sound of the keys rattling, she was back for the last time. You stood up with the luggage in hand, throwing the door open as you were planning to be greeted by a hickey-stained Nat with more excuses pooling out of her, but there was no one to be seen.

“Get the fuck out here, Nat.” You waited for something, but there was no sign of her. You noticed her keys resting on the ground in front of the door, covered in blood. You gulped, taking a step back from nothing.

“Nat? Babe, where- where are you?” You yelled out, your head turning in all directions to look for her. You still found no one, it was pitch black, and nearly impossible to find any sighting of anything besides the luggage by your feet. Your hands were sweaty as your body was stuck in place, you couldn’t move.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Nat, get out here right now.” Hands landed on your shoulders, a low whisper coming to your ear.

“Boo.” You jumped, turning around only to find a person dressed in all black besides their mask. The face covering looked like the design of a ghost, one that a child would draw as their mother praised them for what a good job they did, even if they knew it was horrible.

The man twirled the knife in his hands, watching your fear grow in your eyes and motions.

“Aww, did I scare you, baby girl?” You were able to really listen in on their voice this time, it sounded familiar. You suddenly regretted everything you had said earlier on, you weren’t ready to die just yet.

“No need to be scared, it’s just me.” The man went down on one knee in front of you, knife still in hand near their leg as his hand ventured to his mask, removing the plastic only to see,

“Nat?” She chuckled darkly, reaching up to switch on the light that was sitting on a small table next to you.

“What the fuck was that?” She tried to reach out for your face, only to be pushed away; she wasn’t having that. She gripped your arm tightly, your wrist starting to ache the more she squeezed. She took pleasure in seeing such pain and fear in your features, it somehow made you all the more beautiful.

“Nat- stop it, you’re hurting me.” She smiled darkly as you spoke.

“Perfect.” You thought this was the end, she was going to kill you, your girlfriend was going to kill you. But there seemed to be no move made to do so.

“If you’re going to kill me just get it over with already.” She let go of your arm and you noticed the tensity in her jaw increasing, her head turning just enough for her darkened glare to look all the more dangerous.

“Oh, baby, you really think I’d kill you? There’s no point, it’s not like anyone would miss you.” The words hurt even more than your wrist in the moment, you bit back a remark, choosing to play your cards right and not argue with the woman now pointing a knife at you.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, we’re just gonna have a bit of fun together, alright?” The cold metal pressed against your neck, the sharp tip nearly causing you to leak blood. You whimpered the further she went, your skin barrier breaking as a red substance slowly dripped down your neck.

“Fuck, you don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting this, I’ve been just dying to see you dripping in blood all at the hands of my knife.” You didn’t move, didn’t speak, the fear of what she’d do to you if so indulging you.

“You know, I was planning to come home to my gorgeous little girl laying in bed, ready to take me whenever I want. But instead, I came home to a suitcase of my clothes ready for me, you were gonna kick me out, huh?” You slowly nodded, wetness pooling in your eyes and your shorts. You squeezed your eyes shut in shame, it was so wrong to be needy after such things, she was holding a deadly object to your body and you were still turned on, were you just as crazy as her?

“But seeing that look in your eyes I- fuck, I just wanted you so much more. I was going to tell you, but I- I didn’t know how you’d react, you know?” She was practically manic as she spewed jumbled-up words, her eyes wide and her laugh being as haunted as her soul.

“I mean, just watching Maria on the floor, begging for her life to be saved- it just made me want to shove this knife so deep inside of her and watch as her life slowly drained from her eyes until there was nothing left.” Your own eyes widened at her words, trying to scramble as far away from her as you could. There was no escape though, you were pressed against the wall and she was surrounding every part of you, including your mind.

“Don’t run from me, baby.” She started. “All of this- all of it would’ve been prevented if it wasn’t for you. God, you’re just such a fucking slut, whoring yourself out to practically everyone. Do I not do enough for you? I fucking killed for you and that’s not enough?” You knew this was all the manipulation tactics that she noticed seemed to work with you, and it was working. You were ready to spit out apology after apology, praying for forgiveness, just like all of her victims.

She quickly reached for her bag, and you wanted nothing less than to know what was in there. She grabbed a small book, opening it to show the multiple photos of bloodied victims fallen at her hands. She looked proud, excited, all to show you her work.

“Maybe these people would’ve still been alive if it wasn’t for you.” You tore your eyes away quickly, you couldn’t stand seeing such brutality. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t the one who hurt them, you told yourself. But there was that nagging thought, what if she did kill them because of you? Sure, you flirted, you had old flings but they weren’t contacted since you started your long relationship with Nat.

“Maria didn’t deserve this, none of them did.” You sobbed out, flinching when you felt her hand on your cheek. It was a soothing matter, one meant to calm you, but it did everything but. Suddenly, the same hand connected harshly with the skin, causing it to instantly redden in pain.

“They wanted you, baby, you should’ve known that. You think I didn’t pick up on Maria’s glances at your ass or these, perfect breasts of yours?” She groped your body with desire, shuddering out a breath while doing so.

“Of course, you didn’t notice, you thought she was just being ‘nice’, so fucking stupid.”

“And Wanda? She had a husband, Nat, a family.” Instead of giving you the response you wanted, an explanation to it all, she just continued to tease your nipples with the pad of her thumb through the fabric.

“You know I’d never kill you, right?” It took you a moment before you could get out a hesitant nod, struggling to fully believe her. You always trusted her, but times changed, and so did she.

“I like hurting people, it excites me. But you, I could never do such a thing, I never want to see you in pain, pretty girl.” She murmurs, moving her free hand to her crotch where she rubbed herself thoroughly.

“I just- you ever get so angry, so sick of someone, you just wish you could, like, kill them? Sometimes when we get into those heated arguments, I just wonder how much you’d be willing to beg me not to hurt you.” You watched as she slowly slid the black suit over her head, revealing her black sweatpants. She lowered them to her knees, and let her boxers make way to your vision.

“I’d never act on it, but with others, you don’t need to care about how much they mean to you, because their life costs me nothing but annoyance. I’d kill every last soul on this planet just for you, all you’d have to do is ask.” She grasped your hand, leading it to her confined cock as you palmed her length. Your breathing was ragged, shaky as you refused to look her in the eyes. You knew if you stared too deep into that emerald glaze, there would be no stopping. You wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if you saw the care hidden deep inside of her.

“If I let you touch me, will you stop?” The killings are what you meant, but there was a hidden meaning in the words.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be able to, love.” There was a small whimper escaping her lips as you dipped your hand inside her underwear, grasping her cock in your hands as you stroked with a back-and-forth motion.

“That’s it, don’t stop.” You couldn’t believe yourself, you were sick, insane. Was this normal? No, it couldn’t be. But it felt so good, there was no stopping it. You wanted to see her face contort into pleasure, you wanted to see what she’d do to you. Would she treat you the same as Maria? Would she kill you when you were done? Did she mean it when she sputtered those words? You didn’t want to die just yet, you used to think you did, but that was until you faced death with open arms. How could a criminal, a serial murderer, a psychopath look so perfect? She still looked the same, but there was blood covering her hands and her red hair was messy, her forehead covered in trails of sweat.

“I’m- God, you’re such a good little girl, so fucking perfect.” She noticed the way your thighs clenched, rubbing together as your hips jutted into the air.

“Does someone like when daddy compliments them? Tells them how good they’re doing?” You nodded quickly, your mouth aching to land on her crotch.

“Yeah? You like being a good girl? Or do you like being a good little slut for me?” Both. The answer was both. You wanted nothing more than to prove your worth to her, but you wanted her to treat you like you had none.

“I’m cumming, baby, I’m fucking cumming.” She clenched her jaw tightly and groaned deeply as continuous spurts of cum coated your face. She looked down, grasping your hair in her hands to create a ponytail before forcing herself into your mouth. She could feel the salty tears that had traveled down to your lips spreading amongst her dick, making her grin.

“Swallow daddy’s cum, little girl.” She whispered, dragging you up and down as you gagged around her. Some dribbled down your chin, but she didn’t mind, and neither did you. It had been so long since she felt the warmth that was your mouth, you had been refusing to have sex with her until earlier today. When she finally got her hands on you, it felt magical, like a long-awaiting finale to a show.

“Your throat is so fucking tight,” She said. “I know you must be so wet, you like it when I’m rough, don’t ya’?” She extracted her length from your mouth, causing you to let out a multiple of deep breaths. She tossed your loose shorts to the side after ripping them in half, her biceps flexing in the short moment it took to do so.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, Y/N.” She rarely ever used your name, it was almost odd to hear such a thing. She got ahold of your thighs, pulling you forward and, if it wasn’t for her your hand massaging the part of your scalp she tugged, your head would’ve roughly slammed against the wooden floor.

Your thighs were then lifted to meet your stomach, her cock standing tall as she guided herself to prod at your hole. She rubbed up and down your folds, moaning lowly at the wetness coating you. She pressed herself teasingly against your clit, watching as your lips twitched upward.

“Nat- condom.”

“Oh, no, baby, I have a little something planned for tonight.” She eyed you with a soft smile as if it was the most obvious thing, you wished it didn’t turn you on as much as it did.

“You giving me that look isn’t going to help your case, it only makes me want to fuck you even more.” She stated when you gulped, giving her a nervous and feared look. This wasn’t your Nat, this was someone else, but you loved her just as much.

“F-fuck, you’re so warm and- tight!” She mumbled as her tip slowly opened you up. It was difficult to fit close to half of her inside of you, you didn’t know how you’d manage all of her. She held girth to her, and she was proud to point it out. She loved noticing how tiny you were compared to her, how her cock seemed to stretch you out more so than anything ever has before. No toy had come close; you became dependent on her length to fulfill your needs.

Your shirt soon joined your shorts as she tore it off you, roughly grasping your breast and squeezing as if it were a stress ball.

“Don’t do that. You’re a big girl, you can take it.” You whined pitifully, but her gaze was only filled with lust as her skin managed to press against yours. You had never once been able to take every last inch of her, but you were so wet, more than you’ve ever been. This side of her brought out something inside of you, something so shameful, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But Nat did. She could sense how badly you had been wanting to spice things up for months, it was almost starting to turn out to be boring between you two, and she never expected you to act so compliant.

“Daddy, you’re so big.” She rested both arms at either side of your head, staring down at you with an intensity you longed for. You could see how badly she was trying to hold back from hurting you, but she wanted to so much. The thought of you covered in your blood only made her cock throb and pulse. She leaned down, letting her mouth ghost against yours, causing you to pull her forward to connect yourself with her. Her tongue poked at your lips, begging to get a taste of you. You didn’t let her, only pulling back with your eyes slowly trailing from her parted lips to her forest-green eyes.

“Fuck me, Nat.” She never liked her name all that much, she thought it was basic. But hearing it come from your mouth with your voice, it did things to her.

She pulled her hips back, her length sliding out of you, only to fuck itself back into you. Your tits jumped with your body as the thrust, her gaze couldn’t leave them.

She was in a deep state of arousal, even worse than you. And her knife was right there, it would’ve been so easy to repeat her actions onto her own body, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t care if she was a killer, you still loved her, you were as sick and gross as her. If anything, the thought fascinated you. You always enjoyed gore movies, and she was more than ecstatic when she found someone who shared her deep love for such acts, and you thought it was normal at first. That was until she asked you if you ever thought about doing the same things they did. You instantly said no, a little too quickly. Nat knew you were far from innocent, but she loved this part of you more than anything. You accepted her, even if she was insane.

“That feel good?” She asked, her voice coming out in stutters and cracked moans. You had released a loud whimper when she hit that spot deep inside of you, your nails clawing at her skin. She liked the pain, it sent a thrill through her body.

You felt a sharp poke against the skin of your thigh, looking down only to find her weapon covered in the blood of a previous fool, and now you were just the same.

“Nat-”

“Shh, just- shut up and take what I give you, alright?” She let the knife cut into you, leaving red liquid behind as it trailed down your body. It was warm, yet it still sent chills down your spine.

“You look so beautiful with my design, sweetheart.” She had carved an ‘N’, waiting and hoping for the end result where it’d scar your body forever. She didn’t know why she loved it so much, maybe if she hadn’t lied to the psychiatrists, she’d know.

“You think I should do the same thing…here?” Your skin lied a red trail that followed up until your neck, stopping short as she noticed your breathing patterns change.

“I could easily kill you, and no one would know.” She chuckled, bringing her face to rest on your shoulder, her nose against your neck as she inhaled your sweet scent. The knife pressed down a little harder, letting the skin break as a droplet fell.

“I know you won’t.” You whispered, goosebumps erupting over your skin. You were close, so close. You needed her, anything from her.

“Smart girl you are, hm?” Her hips were starting to lose rhythm the longer she went, it was growing more difficult to keep the same pace. The coil in her stomach had been begging to be let free, to finally relax as she came.

“You gonna cum, baby?” You nodded, moans consuming you making it impossible to speak. She finally leaned back, placing her palms on your stomach where a bulge appeared. She gasped, drawing in your attention as you hesitantly followed her vision. You bit your lip in hunger when noticing what caught your girlfriend’s attention, you had found her loving the way she could overpower you at any moment; taking you however she wanted because you couldn’t deny it. She adored being larger than you, it fueled that pride hidden inside of her.

“Oh, daddy must be stretching you out so, so much, huh? You’re just a cute little slut, so small compared to me.”

“Please-”

“Please, what?” She felt her peak rising further, she needed to release.

“Please cum inside me.” She was already planning to whether you wanted it or not, but seeing your dislike to the thought of children or pregnancy, she thought you’d never let her do so. She grinned, throwing her head back as she tried to muster out a response.

“I am, baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you. Cum with me.” She felt your juices coating her length as your legs shook violently. Pumps of her release shot into you, a deep groan caving its way out of her.

“You’ll look so sexy carrying my babies.” She had the image planted deep in her mind, she wanted to make it a reality.

“Yes! Please- God, fuck!” She didn’t stop after your first orgasm, causing your sensitivity to grow until you couldn’t take such abuse anymore. The blood on your skin had dried, and red hand marks that would soon bruise made way to your vision.

“You’re okay, just relax.” You couldn’t believe it, the murderer you had spent nights praising for their impressive kill count and multiple days fearing was your girlfriend, and you didn’t even hate her for it.

“I told you, I’ll kill anyone for you. I want us to get away from the city, find someplace to lie low for a little bit, at least until they cross me out as a suspect. We can be happy, we can have everything you’ve always wanted, together.” She kissed the back of your hand, letting them leave a pattern up your arm until she reached your face, leaving a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even have money. And there were so many things that could go wrong, but wasn’t it worse in a place like this? There, you’d have a knowing of where Nat would be, she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. But would she ever really stop? Or was she just saying that to ease your worries? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. You’d always have Nat, in any way possible.

“Okay.”

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scarsrealm · 6 months

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questionable actions. | re2 inaccurate, yandere, leon scott kennedy

<<<blurb>>>

“STAY behind me.” Leon’s voice dripped with protection and care for you. You simply nodded at his orders, in fact, you were glad he was protecting you; especially in these conditions. But at the same time, his “protection” became odd. He would make sure you’re 100% safe by holding you close, a little too close. You understood he was just making sure you were okay but it came to a point where you felt a bit uncomfortable.

You were running through the police station, following Leon as he guided you both through the halls. The zombies were almost everywhere, you thought you had no chance of winning. You just wanted to be free and get the hell out of here. The zombies would lunge at you, you could hear their growls and groans. Of course, Leon would do what he always does. Protect you.

He would hold you close to him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. The way he held you made your body feel tense, not being used to this sort of thing. His behavior was off-putting. You could feel his breath against your skin. His hands would touch your skin, making you flinch a bit. His lips were right next to your ear, whispering that he'll protect you. You were grateful for his kindness and help but you thought there had to be some sort of limit.

It was when things got worse that his protective nature became more... possessive?

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Leon said. “Leon, it’s fine, I’m a grown woman, I can handle a little—“

“No.” And that was it. The word was simple yet the way he said it made it clear that he wasn't budging on this. He didn’t want you going anywhere without him. He wanted you right by his side. He didn’t care if it was a small, harmless task. He didn’t want you leaving his side, no matter what.

Leon was a cop, so of course, his first priority was to keep you safe, but you thought he would've loosened up a bit when you tried telling him it's alright. But it was like he was stuck in this mindset.

There were times where you would go to get supplies, such as medkits, herbs, or any handgun ammo, and you would be fine on your own. That is, until Leon caught wind of you being away from him and he would come to you, scolding you for being alone.

"Y/n, I told you not to leave my side."

“Y/n, come on before you get hurt."

"You can’t keep just disappearing on me..."

He would constantly be on your tail, always looking for you. When you were with him, it was great! But whenever he wasn't near, or if he didn't know where you were, his behavior would become frantic and panicked.

And it was the worst when you tried defending yourself.

"Y/N!" He yelled, coming back to you after killing off a few zombies. "What are you doing!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

You rolled your eyes, wiping off the sweat that was on your forehead. “Leon, im not completely helpless! I can handle myself!" You explained sternly. You didn't mean to get mad at him, but he needed to stop babying you.

"What? Are you serious?" He scoffed. "I don't want you risking your life like that. You could’ve gotten bit.”

You groaned. You didn’t want to argue, you were tired of it all. "Just stay behind me and let me take care of everything." He said, holding his gun in front of him. "Leon, im not a child, I can—"

"Just let me protect you."

"Why are you acting like this?" You questioned. You were getting a bit annoyed with his constant need to look after you.

"Because I'm the only one that can keep you safe.”

That sentence confirmed that something was wrong. You had no idea why he would say such a thing. You two just met, he doesn’t even know you that well, and yet he acts as if he had known you for years.

"Wha—?"

"Nothing. Just stay behind me and be quiet." He commanded.

This was crazy. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. What was his problem? You didn’t know. But there was a feeling deep down inside you, something that screamed to you that something was definitely not right with Leon.

But it was too late to ask questions. You were forced to be at his side.

Leon was so serious about you that he didn't even hesitate to kill. No matter what. Even if they looked like a normal human, he would pull the trigger. Anything that went towards you, he would take it down.

He was ruthless.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #yandere #yandere leon kennedy #yandere Leon Scott Kennedy #re2r #resident evil 2 #re2 leon #yandere re2 Leon #mature #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy blurb #leon kennedy drabble

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httplilyyy · 1 year

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𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 | 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you’re in a franchise now

warnings: descriptions of violence, swearing, scream vi spoilers, bad writing

word count: 4.6k

a/n: i didn’t really know how to end this but i tried my best. i also added a few references to the older scream movies, so see if you can spot them :)

scream masterlist | prev. part | next part

002. he’s back (man behind the mask) - alice cooper

‘he’s back, the man behind the mask.’

You stood in shock. Eyes focused on the backdoor of the store, swinging backwards and forwards. Not quite believing ghostface was in there with you, Tara and Sam.

“It’s happening again.” Tara trembled against your side.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you repeated, turning to face the younger Carpenter, “you're okay.”

“But-”

“Don't do that. You're okay.” You said softly, rubbing your hands up and down her arms.

You kept your gaze on Tara, watching as she processed what just happened. Pulling her against you, she rested her head on your chest.

You placed your chin on the top of her head, looking over at Sam, a tint of worry and fear glistening in your eyes.

The three of you were quickly ushered into a cop car, each of you sitting in the back with Tara in the middle, trying to get as close to you as she could.

The journey to the police station was quiet, the dull noise of the radio breaking the silence. You had your head resting against the window, a million thoughts running around in your mind.

You couldn't help it but your mind kept going back to the call you had gotten from ghostface. What did they mean by they wanted to see you suffer? Was it you they wanted to kill? Or was it someone else?

And most important of all. How did they know your secret?

All whilst those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind, Tara leaned her head on your shoulder. Your fingers gently brushed over her knuckles before tracing the scar on her hand, only stopping when the car came to a halt at the station.

The three of you were let out of the back of the cop car and led into a room where pictures of the crime scene littered over the table. You sat to Tara’s left whilst Sam sat to her right, each of you tired after the events in the store.

You were just about to start a conversation when Detective Bailey walked in the room. He sat on the chair in front of you three and looked at you intently.

“This was found next to the body at the apartment crime scene.” Bailey said, throwing a ghostface mask on the table. “The dna said it belonged to someone called Richie Kirsch.”

Sam snapped her head up at the name, a look of confusion written on her face.

“Does that ring a bell?” Bailey asked, making you look between Tara and Sam, the both of them shocked at the name drop.

“We’re familiar with him.” Sam replied, her face not showing any emotion.

“The one that attacked us had a different mask on.” Tara said, turning to look at Bailey. “It's kinda more beat up, like it's older.”

“I gotta ask, do you have alibis from earlier tonight?” Bailey questioned, nodding to what Tara had said.

“I was at a party with my friends.” Tara said, leaning back in her chair.

“And you, y/n?” Bailey asked, looking at you with a smile, one that was far from friendly.

“I was at the party too.” You shrugged, looking straight into his eyes.

“I was at my therapists,” Sam cut in, “I can give you his information. You can call and check if you want. Then I met Tara and y/n at that party. Where I tased someone… Unrelated.”

“Was that before or after this?” Bailey wondered, sounding a little irritated as he moved his gaze off you and onto the older Carpenter showing a video on his phone of Sam pushing the woman from earlier.

“Before.” Sam said.

“The point is, we were with someone the whole night.” You said, becoming very tired of the questioning.

“So, our roommate's dad just happened to pull our case.” Sam stated, not believing that was entirely true.

“That would be a crazy coincidence right?” Bailey replied.

“Yeah.”

“The detective who had the case, he offered it to me because it involves Quinn. But I can totally give it back if you're uncomfortable. It’s up to you.”

Sam looked at Tara, the younger girl didn't seem to mind so Sam took her judgement and replied.

“It’s fine.”

“So if the man who attacked you did steal your licence and planted it next to the body. Then it will probably be somebody close to you.” Bailey said, causing Sam to look a little dejected. “How long have you known your friends?”

“Well we moved here with Mindy, Chad and y/n for summer semester like six months ago.” Tara said, looking at you. “So Quinn, Ethan, Anika all since then.”

“I think I can vouch for Quinn so that's one less we have to worry about.” Bailey said. “Do the three of you have anyone that might wanna target you?”

You let out a huffed laugh as you saw Sam roll her eyes with an exasperated look on her face.

“Not anyone who’s still alive.” Tara said, shaking her head.

“Yikes.” Bailey commented with raised eyebrows.

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled, running a hand down your face.

Suddenly the door opened behind Bailey and an officer came in.

“The fbi is here, they need jurisdiction.” The man said.

“Where are they?” Bailey questioned, shooting up from his seat to follow the police officer.

“Jesus christ.” You muttered, leaning back on your chair, head tilting up to look at the ceiling.

“I’ve never known you to be so quiet.” Tara teased, smacking you on the stomach.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, holding onto your stomach.

“Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard.” Tara chuckled.

“You did, I think you broke something.” You joked, continuing your dramatics.

“Come on, you two. We’re leaving.” Sam said abruptly, getting up from her chair.

“Wait what?” You said, very confused as Tara dragged you out of your chair by your arm. “Where are we going?”

“I don't know, just follow my sister.” Tara answered, pulling you along beside her.

As you walked side by side with Tara and Sam, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Slowly pulling out your phone, you made sure to check the number this time.

Stopping in your tracks, you immediately knew who was calling you. Due to your abrupt halt, Sam and Tara were looking at you with confused glances.

“You okay, y/n?” Tara questioned, eyes scanning your face for any signs of emotion however it was completely blank.

“Uh, yeah.” You said, clearing your throat with a small cough. You looked up from your phone and at the younger Carpenter. “I’ve just got to take this call.”

“We’ll wait here for you.” Sam smiled.

“It’s no problem, you go on, I'll catch up.”

With reluctant nods, Sam and Tara walked away from you. Your finger hovered over the answer button and just as it was about to go to voicemail you picked it up.

“Hello again, y/n.”

“You know, you are starting to really piss me off.” You answered, kicking the ground by your feet.

“Now, now, that’s not a nice way to greet someone, is it?” They replied, causing you to practically hear their smirk.

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Let me try that again. Hey, ghostface, how’s it going?”

“That’s better.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit. What do you want?” You snapped, moving to lean your back against a nearby wall.

“How about a little trip down memory lane?”

“And what could you possibly know about my past?”

“Everything.”

“Huh, funny.” You scoffed, looking around you, making sure no one could hear your conversation.

“You don't believe me, do you?”

“Why should I?”

“One of your old friends is right around the corner.” They said, ignoring your question.

“One of my old friends?”

“Yes. Now I'm sure you remember the night.”

“What night?”

“Two-thousand and eleven was a wonderful year, wasn't it?” They asked rhetorically, ignoring you once again.

“For some.” You shrugged.

“Not for you though, was it?”

“Depends.”

“Poor nine year old y/n.”

“Okay, I am sick of your shit. Stop fucking around and tell me what you know.” You said loudly, pushing yourself off the wall and into the middle of the hallway.

“You miss her don’t you? I mean she was your sister after all. Even if she did turn out to be a murderer.”

“Fuck you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, so vulgar.” They exclaimed.

“Keep my sister’s name out of your mouth.”

“Well, I haven't even said her name yet, have I? What was it again? I can't seem to remember it.” They teased, sending shivers up your spine. “Was it Jamie? No, that doesn't seem right. Jenny, still no. Oh I know.”

“Oh do you now?” You asked sarcastically.

“Jill.”

All of a sudden everything in your body went cold. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your breath got caught in your throat.

You couldn't think of a reply, your brain replaying that night in your head.

“Ooh, I know everything about you y/n.”

Before you could think of a response the line went dead and you were left standing in an empty police station hallway, your thoughts running over a million miles an hour.

You let out a shaky breath, placing your phone back in your pocket before making your way to where Sam and Tara walked off to.

As you rounded a corner, you saw Sam and Tara talking with Bailey as well as someone you thought you wouldn't see ever again.

“Kirby?” You muttered, stepping into view.

“Y/n?” She replied, shock evident on her face.

“You guys know each other?” Sam questioned, looking between you two.

“Yeah, we…” Kirby trailed off, still in a little shock.

“It's a long story.” You said, sending Kirby a smile.

Kirby let out a small chuckle before walking towards you and engulfing you in a hug.

As you caught up with Kirby, a police officer came up to the five of you and handed Bailey some paperwork along with a second ghostface mask.

“He left this mask at the bodega, dna traces of two individuals; Charlie Walker, Jill Roberts. Both deceased.”

As Jill’s name was mentioned, Kirby felt your body go stiff in her arms. She rubbed a soothing hand along your arm before detaching herself from you.

“Ghostface killers of two-thousand and eleven. Charlie Walker gave me this.” Kirby said as she lifted up her shirt to show a scar of where she had been stabbed in the abdomen. “Is this the mask he was wearing when he attacked you?”

“No.” Tara replied, as she and her sister shook their heads together, you however were still stuck in a trance.

“So he’s leaving them on purpose.” Bailey stated.

“Which means whoever is doing this is a student of the killers who came before.” Kirby added. “Maybe he believes Sam’s the latest in the long line.”

Once Kirby finished her sentence, she moved her gaze back onto you. Although Sam and Tara didn’t know you were related to Jill, Kirby did.

If ghostface was going after Sam, then that meant they were also going to come for you.

Oh how you wished what Kirby said was wrong.

“Yeah, goodluck with that.” Sam said, sarcasm present in her tone. “We’re getting out of town.”

Sam walked past Bailey and Kirby, Tara following behind. The younger Carpenter grabbed onto your hand and she pulled you along too.

“I’m sorry but that’s not possible.” Bailey said, causing the three of you to turn back around.

“And why is that?” You questioned, feeling your temper rise and your patience completely dissipate from your body.

“The three of you are each persons of interest to a double homicide so you’re not allowed to leave town, sorry.”

“Are you serious?” Tara asked, not believing what he said.

“How am I involved?” You wondered.

“He’s right.” Kirby nodded. “But, if we work together-”

“We’re going.” Sam cut her off pulling you and Tara along with her. With one last look at Kirby, you were pulled away from her and towards the exit of the station.

Sam led the three of you out of the police station with purpose and slammed open the doors to the outside. You were met with a hoard of news reporters bombarding you all with questions.

Sam walked ahead of you and Tara, pushing her way through the reporters while you wrapped a protective arm around Tara’s shoulders, pulling her into you as the two of you stayed close behind Sam.

Each question, name drop and sentence thrown at the three of you were ignored apart from one voice that stuck out.

“Gale Weathers, Channel Four.”

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.” You muttered, turning around to face the woman.

“Do you three think you’re the reason that the ghostface killer has come to the big apple?” Gale questioned, her gaze focusing on you for a moment longer, softening slightly.

Sam scoffed, pretending to turn around only for her to throw a punch at Gale. The older woman dodged the attempt as everyone gasped at what they just saw.

“Nice try sweety but I've done this dance before.” Gale said smugly but her last word was cut off as another hand came swinging towards her face. This time she didn’t have time to dodge and a right hook was sent to her cheek.

You looked at Tara in pure shock, a smile taking over your features.

“Stay away from us.” Tara threatened as she walked away, you and Sam following her with proud glances.

“Are you really still mad at me?” Gale questioned, following after the three of you.

“You said you wouldn't write a book about what happened.” Sam said, turning to face the woman with anger. “And then you wrote a book about what happened!”

“Oh come on.” Gale sighed. “Somebody was gonna write about it. It’s what I do.”

“I heard you couldn't sell the movie rights.” Tara cut in, a deadly look on her face.

“It's all about true crime limited series these days.” Gale responded with an eye roll.

“After everything we went through together.” Sam shook her head. “What would Dewey think?”

“That's a low blow.” Gale said, and you let out a small whistle of agreement.

“Your book was a low blow.” Sam rebutted. “You called me unstable and a born killer.”

“That’s taken out of context.”

“That's literally a quote.” You pointed out, sending a smile to Gale which turned out more like a grimace.

“You don't think what you wrote has something to do with what's happening to us?” Tara exclaimed.

“Come on.” You said, pulling both Carpenters to a parked up taxi.

“I talked to Sidney.” Gale said, causing the three of you to stop in your tracks once again.

You sighed to yourself, looking up at the sky, wondering what else this woman could possibly say.

“She’s not coming here is she?” Tara asked, worry laced in her tone.

“No.” Gale shook her head. “She sends her love but she’s taking the kids and Mark someplace safe. She deserves to have her happy ending.”

“And that much we agree.” Sam said before opening the back door to the taxi and getting in.

You held the door open for Tara waiting for her to get in but Gale spoke up again.

“Hey I want to catch this fucker as much as you do.” Gale said, raising her voice a little.

“Maybe.” Tara shrugged. “Or maybe you're just afraid that without Ghostface in your life, you're gonna fade away.”

Tara gave the woman one last look before getting into the taxi.

“Did you get all that on film?” You smirked, pointing to the multiple cameras behind Gale.

Gale looked at you with an irritated glint to her eye causing you to chuckle. Just as you were about to get in the taxi, Gale called out your name.

“Y/n, can I talk to you for a second?” She pleaded.

You let out a small sigh, looking back at Tara. She gave you a small nod and you promised to only be a few minutes.

“What’s going on, Gale?” You questioned, a hand rubbing your forehead.

“H-how are you feeling?” Gale wondered.

“How am I feeling?” You repeated, sarcasm laced in your voice. “Since when did you care?”

“Sidney has been asking about you.”

“Then why couldn’t she just contact me?” You scoffed.

“She's trying to keep a low profile and-”

“And texting me will blow her cover? Bullshit, she’s my cousin.”

“Look, y/n. you’ve been through this twice-”

“So what? I was nine the first time! Nine!” You said, raising your voice. “That doesn’t mean I'm used to it by now!”

“I know I just-”

“My own sister stabbed me! That will do something to a person. Especially a child.”

“I want to be there for you, y/n.” Gale said softly.

“Look, Gale.” You started, a long sigh spilled from your lips. “I don’t think I can go through this again.”

“I know, this is my sixth time and it feels like the first.”

“I’m scared, Gale. I’m so scared.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering.

“I’d think you were a psycho if you weren’t.” Gale said, letting out a wet chuckle as tears fell from her own eyes.

“They know.” You said, wiping your eyes. “They know about Jill.”

“Maybe it’s time to tell your friends. Before Ghostface does.”

“Maybe, I’ll think about it. Just not yet.”

“Okay.”

“I uh- I have to go.” You mumbled, looking back at Tara and Sam in the taxi, the younger girl giving you a worried glance as she spotted the tear marks on your face.

“Yeah, okay. You have my number so call me. I’ll always pick up.”

“Will do.” You smiled, moving your hand to squeeze hers before backing away and into the taxi.

You closed the car door with one last look at Gale, the taxi driver drove off.

“Nice punch by the way.” You teased Tara, using your elbow to nudge her side.

“Shut up.” Tara mumbled, locking her arm with yours as she rested her head against your shoulder, her fingers intertwined with yours.

“Where are we going?” You questioned, looking down at the smaller girl leaning against your side.

“We’re going to the park to meet up with everyone.” Tara replied.

“No doubt it will entail one of Mindy’s rants.” You said, causing Tara and Sam to chuckle.

“Probably.”

“Actually, I'll put a bet on that. Five dollars Mindy brings up us being in a sequel or something.”

“No chance, I'd like to keep my money.” Tara said, patting a hand on your thigh.

“You're no fun.” You sighed.

The rest of the ride to the park was filled with jokes and laughter, despite what had happened the night before. Before you knew it, the taxi driver had stopped and the three of you were getting out.

It didn't take long for you to find your friends and after you greeted everybody, you sat down beside Tara, in between her and Ethan. The only person who wasn’t sitting down was Mindy, who stood in front of you all.

“Okay nerds, listen up.” Mindy said, clapping her hands above her head to gain everyone's attention. “As terrifying as this all is, I'm actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time… it's fine, okay.”

“Here we go.” You muttered under your breath earning an elbow to the ribs from tara.

“The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.” Mindy continued.

“Called it.” You whispered in Tara's ear, the girl trying to keep the corners of her mouth from turning into a smile.

“Um- what's a requel?” Anika questioned, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked up at her girlfriend.

“You're beautiful sweetie.” Mindy said, pointing to the girl with her hands. “Let’s hold questions till the end.”

“Stab took place in Woodsboro, Stab Two took place in college.” Sam spoke up.

“So do you think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara asked, looking up at Mindy.

“That is one possibility.” Mindy nodded. “Heroes now in college, check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or the body count. Check, check and check.”

“I don't like this.” Ethan said, shaking his head before looking away.

“But it can't just be about Stab Two.” Mindy said, ignoring Ethan as she continued to explain her point.

“Why not?” Tara wondered, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked up to Mindy once again.

“It makes sense if this were just a sequel.” Mindy explained. “But we're not in a sequel because nobody just makes sequels anymore. We’re in a franchise! And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.”

“I had a feeling.” Sam sighed, looking to the ground.

“Is this making sense to you?” You questioned, leaning towards Ethan who shook his head. “Okay at least it's not just me.”

“Rule one!” Mindy said loudly as she started to pace around. “Everything is bigger than last time! Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shootouts, beheadings. You gotta top what happened before to keep people coming back.”

“Beheadings?” Chad asked, looking up from his notebook and at his sister.

“Beheadings.” Mindy confirmed, nodding her head. “Rule two, whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations, if the killers last time were whiny, snowflake, film nerds with letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.”

“Has she breathed yet?” You mumbled to the two next to you, Ethan letting out a quiet snort of laughter whilst Tara shook her head with a small smile gracing her lips.

“And rule three, no one is safe.” Mindy said, calming down a little. “Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bit for nostalgia. It’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby, oh and that isn’t even the worst part!”

“This is the part where she tells us the worst part.” Chad said, looking up from his notebook only for a second.

"The worst part is, franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an ip. Which means, main characters are completely expendable now too, Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Sally Hardesty, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, I mean even Luke Skywalker, all die so that their franchises can live on." Mindy ranted. "That means it's just not the friend group, any of us can go at any time. Especially Sam and Tara.”

“Well that’s just brilliant then, isn’t it.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, glancing over to Tara who was already looking at you.

"W-wait, any of us?" Ethan asked as he looked up at Mindy who nodded. "Does- am I in the friend group?"

"Yeah".

"Am I like one of the targets of-”

“Mhm.”

“Am I gonna die a virgin?”

You almost choked on your own spit, leaning forward as Tara patted your back, looking at the boy with a laugh.

Mindy looked away for a moment, a grimace on her face. "That was...a weird overshare. But it brings us to our current suspects, Ethan, the shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky.”

Ethan shook his head as Mindy took a step up to him. "Okay, wait, why am I on the suspect list? Because I'm randomly Chad's roommate?"

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could've fixed it to get in next to us.” Mindy stated and Ethan just rolled his eyes before slumping back while Mindy turned to look at Quinn.

"Quinn, the slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”

"Sex positive, but thank you?" Quinn said, tilting her head.

Mindy just hummed before turning back to look at Tara and Sam. "How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?"

"I answered their ad online?"

"Okay! Say no more! You've already implicated yourself enough!" Mindy yelled.

"It was an anonymous ad, Mindy. And you know we vetted her plus her dad's a cop-" Tara said, looking at Mindy as she defended her roommate.

"And that makes it more likely that she's the killer because having a cop dad is a great cover, do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?"

"Is she always like this?" Quinn asked, leaning forward as she spoke to Sam, the older Carpenter shrugging as her response.

"Anika.” Mindy smiled, walking over to her girlfriend who blew her a kiss, Mindy doing the same to her before looking at her more seriously. "Never trust the love interest.”

“Okay, so...we have our rules. And we have our suspects.” Sam said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Wait, wait.” Ethan interrupted, looking up at Mindy. "What about you guys?"

"I mean, I think it's pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro.” Mindy said, crossing her arms as she looked at the boy.

"Agreed.” Chad smiled, pointing his pencil at Mindy.

"Um, not agreed. What if the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?" Quinn remarked, shaking her head.

Ethan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean, or the thing you got from the killings made you thirsty for more? I mean, to be honest here, some of the theories online about Sam are-"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Tara snapped at the boy.

“Let’s not go there, buddy.” You said, patting him on the shoulder, a little too harshly making Ethan let out a small wince at the action.

"Okay.” Anika nodded, sitting up straighter. "She's right, though. I mean, face facts, if we're all suspects, you're all suspects.”

Mindy just crossed her arms as she thought about those words for a moment not knowing how to reply.

“Okay, I'm leaving now.” You said, slapping your hands to your knees before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Tara questioned, looking up at you.

“Probably to kill someone.” Ethan muttered under his breath.

“Funny.” You replied sarcastically, staring the boy down. “I was going to get some food for later.”

“I’ll come with you.” Tara said, standing up quickly.

“Yeah, okay.” You smiled. “Anyone else want to come?”

“Might as well.” Mindy shrugged.

“Anika, do you want to come?” You asked, looking at the girl still sitting down.

“No, it’s all good, I'll meet you later.” She replied with a smile.

“Anyone else?” You asked once more but everyone shook their heads and you gave them a nod of acknowledgement. “Guess it’s just us three.”

“Cool, we’ll see you in a bit.” Mindy said, giving her girlfriend a kiss before walking off with you and Tara.

“Be careful.” The three of you heard Sam’s voice come from behind you and you saw how Tara rolled her eyes at her sister.

“She’s just looking out for you because she loves you, y’know.” You chuckled, nudging Tara with your elbow.

“Clearly Chad doesn't care about me.” Mindy said, seeing as Chad didn’t say anything to her before she left.

“Alright, enough about siblings, last one to the store is a rotten egg.” You said quickly before you ran off ahead of your two friends.

“Child. They are a literal child.” Tara mumbled, shaking her head.

“You’re still going to run though, aren’t you.” Mindy said, speeding up a little.

“Of course.” Tara chuckled.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter imagines #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega imagines #jenna ortega x reader #scream vi #scream #scream 6

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deltaharrington · 1 year

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NOT CRAZY PT 2.

PAIRING: Now JJ Maybank x Female!Reader

WARNINGS: Intimate moments, high stress, possessiveness.

SUMMARY: After you see Rafe’s true colors, you realize you’ve been with the wrong boy after all.

PART 1

“JJ? Where are we going?” You asked, now in the back of Kie’s car that was lugging a boat.

“We don’t have time, I promise I’ll explain later” He said as you guys arrived at a small dock. You had just been through a lot but that wasn’t going to stop you from helping in any way that you could.

You helped JJ lug food and supplies onto the boat. You knew who this was for.

“It’s for John B” You whispered and JJ nodded his head. You knew their was a manhunt for him, and you had thought he was the one who killed the sheriff, not Rafe.

Ward was really good at convincing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you” You said to him and he stopped what he was doing, shocked at the apology.

“He seemed almost too good to be true” You said softly “When the allegations about him and Peterkin came out, I turned a blind eye because he made himself seem so innocent” You said and JJ looked at you sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Y/n” JJ said and you nodded your head.

JJ was now fully turned towards you. The sun setting behind you illuminated his features perfectly.

“I knew he wasn’t right for you” He whispered and you quirked a brow, unsure of what he meant.

“I was- I am” He mumbled and you were shocked at his confession. He began to lean in a bit and you found yourself doing the same.

Just before your lips could connect, John B rolled up in a cop car.

JJ hadn’t realized how distracted he had become. He snapped out of it and you got off the boat, seeing the confusion on John B’s face.

“I’ll wait over here” You said and JJ nodded his head, speaking to John B about what he needed to do, while saying his goodbyes.

They were helping John B get away.

Your heart swelled. You wished you had friends like the Pogues.

After John B left, you approached the group, JJ welcoming you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You could tell they were upset, but they were glad their best friend would be safe.

“I should be getting-“ You started but police cars pulled up behind you guys. JJ pulled you close as they stepped out of the cars.

“Hands up!” One said and pointed guns at you guys. When you saw Shoupe he looked shocked to see you with the Pogues. He knew about you and Rafe, so he was confused.

“Shit!” Shoupe yelled as you all put your hands up. “Tell your men to stand down!” He added and looked at the group.

“Where is he? Where the hell is he?!” Shoupe yelled in frustration, causing you to jump.

“JJ, great to see you’re living up to your name” Ahoupe remarked and your eyes went wide. We’re the Pogues really treated this way?

“Shoupe, stop it” You said through gritted teeth and he shot you a glare.

“Pope, how about you?” Shoupe added and Pope didn’t say anything. No one did.

“This isn’t a fucking game! You guys can do the right thing” Shoupe said “Where did he go?” He added and you could hear the SBI agent speak into his walkie.

“Get in the car, all of you!” Shoupe said and you nodded “Y/n front seat, I’m calling the Cameron’s to escort you away” He said and you looked to JJ wkth worry.

You didn’t want Rafe to come get you, there was no desire from you to see him.

Once you made it to the police tents, Shoupe got you and the Pogues out, walking you to the tent.

“You three sit, we have a lot to talk about” He said to the Pogues before turning to look behind you.

“She’s here” He said and you were met with Rafe when you turned around.

“No! Please don’t make me go with him!” You called as Rafe approached, practically dragging you away.

“JJ!” You called and the blonde was on his feet trying to get to you. The officer stopped him before he could.

“Please Shoupe! He’s gonna hurt her!” JJ said and Shoupe didn’t want to condone fighting, but he knew how off the rails Rafe was.

“Let him go” Shoupe said and JJ came running. At the sight of him, Rafe moved faster to drag you to the truck.

“Rafe! Let go!” You struggled against him “Please!” You added and he hesitated, stopping his movements.

JJ swung when he got close enough, his fist cracking against Rafe’s face.

The Kook fell backwards and let you go in the process.

JJ backed away and you scrambled into his arms, taking his hand and making your way as far away from him as possible.

The rain from the storm began to pour on the two of you as you found shelter in between tents.

JJ gave you a once over, making sure you were okay.

“Did he hurt you?” JJ asked and you shook your head “Good because if he did I-“ He started but was cut off.

“JJ, shut up” You said before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Even in the midst of everything that had happened, you still wanted to show JJ how you felt.

The two of you continued until an officer stopped you, wanting to escort you back to the tent.

“We need to make sure JB is safe” JJ said and you agreed, willing to put your romantic relations on hold.

It was going to be a long night.

TO BE CONTINUED??

#outer banks #x y/n #obx netflix #outer banks x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #rafe cameron

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venerawrites · 20 days

Note

Aww I love that you write for Kiba! He really doesn't get enough love so thank you! Can I please request headcannons for married and family life with Kiba, Kakashi, Gaara and Neji (with female reader)? Like being married and having children with them? They're my favourites and you write them so, so well. I hope that request is alright, please don't feel pressured to write it if you don't want to. I hope your week is amazing 🫶🏻

author's note: Kiba was one of my first fictional crushes and I totally agree he doesn't get enough love! Thank you so much for this beautiful request! I really hope you enjoy and that so far your week has been good! <3

➤ Kiba

Kiba as a husband is everything but boring!

During the first year or two, marriage would feel just like your relationship before that - laid back, chill and maybe a bit immature.

He is an amazing partner - he is very affectionate, never fails to make you smile and loves to surprise you.

However, when it comes to taking care of himself, he is like a big baby - I don't really see him doing any chores in the beginning of your relationship and even when he tries, more often than not he either burn or flood the kitchen.

Maybe it was fate or karma of some sorts, but I totally see you with twins or triplets!

If you thought life was crazy, wait till your house is full with hyperactive, unpredictable and loud Inuzukas.

Surprisingly, Kiba actually enjoy his role as a dad - probably because they all take after his personality, and tries to spend as much time with you and the children as possible.

Every time he has a free day, he organises a "family fun day" - more often than not, it is not that fun for you, as you have to run or yell after them to be careful while running/swimming/climbing etc.

While he would never get too much into housework, he will try to help around the house as much as he can, especially once you get back to work. (also, wouldn't do a good job and you would have to clean after his cleaning all the time, but it is the enthusiasm that counts!)

His attitude towards you would remain the same - he is just as in love with you as he was as a teenager, constantly trying to flirt with you with cheesy pick-up lines and smack your bum when you least expect it.

With multiple children, you probably won't have a lot of opportunities for spend time alone or go on dates, but you are both quite comfortable with your chaotic life.

He is definitely the laid-back and fun parent. Sorry, but you are going to have to be the "bad cop" - he can just bring himself to scold or punish your children.

He would often team up with them in order to prank you or his mother. Also, every bad word they learn by the age of six, is definitely his fault. (But hey, is it his fault they can remember every slip up?)

Kiba absolutely wants more children, so you better brace yourself, because I totally see you with another set of twins/triplets... it's these Inuzuka genes, what can I say!

➤ Kakashi

Surprisingly (or not so much since we are talking about Kakashi) your two children came before you got married.

You have been together for years and it worked perfectly, so what would a ring and a signature on a paper change? In the beginning, both of you were of the opinion "why fix something if it isn't broken?" and none of you see the point in marriage.

More or less, you were already acting as spouses - you tried to equally divide the household chores, but since he was working most of the time, you naturally took the role of the carer of the house, while he was the provider.

Once your first child was born, however, Kakashi started to seriously think of a change.

Since being a child, his life has been filled with battles, blood and loss - and he surely did not want for these things to be present in your baby's life.

However, change was hard and while he tortured his mind with ideas about how much happier you are going to be if both of you give up the shinobi life and move somewhere far, far away, he never voiced his thoughts out loud to you.

Kakashi is a very calm and loving dad - it almost come naturally to him, but you would notice something was bothering him, since as a partner he acted a bit more withdrawn.

When your second child was born, this is when he knew for sure he has to step down as a Hokage and retire from the ninja lifestyle once and for all. I imagine at this point, with two kids at home, you were retired as a shinobi.

When he brought the idea of moving in the outskirts of the village, he didn't expect for you to agree so quickly. You knew Kakashi for years, even before you got together, so you knew he really needed this break and detachment in the name of your family.

Once he left the position as a leader of the village, he focused 100% of his attention on you and your children - your oldest was a toddler by that time and while he felt sad because he felt like he missed the first two years of their life, he tried to enjoy every moment and stay grounded in the present.

He also finally decide it is time to propose and make you officially Mrs. Hatake - everything in your life was slowly falling into place and this felt like the only thing missing. (I imagine a small ceremony with both of your children as flower girls/page boys.)

Kakashi as a husband is the same as he was before that - loving, gentle, romantic, sometimes lazy, yet always attentive. The only difference is that he is even more relaxed and probably would pick up a random hobby such as gardening or maybe even writing?

Your have a very idyllic and peaceful life with him, and you wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

➤ Gaara

Married life with Gaara is hard in the beginning.

His work has been his whole life since he was a teenager, so when you finally tied the knot and, a few months later, welcomed your first child, he didn't know how to handle it.

He tried to juggle his job and his new role as a husband and father without any help for the first six months, but failed miserably.

The long hours he spend in the office definitely affected your relationship, especially since you are the one who had to give up your career in order to stay at home and take care of the baby.

There will be a rough period of time during you will be either ignoring each other or fighting with each other. Each of you will be upset, frustrated and annoyed with the other, but will not know how to fix things.

Don't get it wrong - this man loves you to death, but this is all new to him too! And it is especially stressful, since he never had a proper functioning family anyway.

Eventually, one night after another fight, you will sit down on the floor and share (or more likely scream at him) all the pent up frustration and worries you had been keeping inside.

From that moment everything changes.

Gaara would realise he needs to spend more time with his family, so he will probably promote Kankuro to a "shadow Kazekage" or any other title, under which he can replace him in the office some days of the week.

You start communicating more and soon fall in a natural rhythm - he is definitely a man that likes to do everything 50-50 with you, including care of the baby and household chores.

A very gentle and attentive husband - he always listen to your advice and tries his best to keep the spark between you by organising surprise getaway weekends for both of you every so often or by bringing you flowers/gifts when he comes home from work.

I would imagine given his position, he would try to influence to remain at home - he has always been worried about your safety and the potential risk of his enemies targeting you, but since you were now also the mother of his child, his worry slowly turned into a paranoia.

He will respect your decision no matter what, but if you decide to go back to work at some point - he will forget his morals and will abuse his role as a Kazekage in order to arrange some extra security to be around you at all times.

I feel like he will be a very calm dad in the beginning, but the more his children grew, the more nervous he became - babies are easy to manage, but toddlers? Pre-teens? Oh, Kami!

Naturally, he is very anxious about his performance as a parent, so please provide him reassurance every now and then, just so you can ease his mind!

Nevertheless, he is great with your child and they absolutely adore him. If you had a girl, she will totally be daddy's girl. If you had a boy, he would dream one day to grow up like Gaara.

I totally see you guys adopting some family traditions like Sunday dinner, "come-with-dad-to-work" Thursdays or book Fridays.

Gaara is going to be satisfied with one child, two at most (only if they have at least five years difference).

➤ Neji

Neji was made to be a father and a husband!

Raised in a very traditional family, he has been dreaming about becoming a husband and father pretty much from the moment you got together.

I think you would be married for about a year, before your first child is born, during which you will get you own house in the Hyuga compound, arrange its interior and enjoy your life as newlywed couple.

He will never command you or restrict your freedom in any way, but he will definitely influence a lot of your decisions.

For starters, it is expected that you will stop working and become a housewife, as any other woman married into the clan has done before.

I feel Neji loves you enough to respect your wishes if you decide not to do it, but he will still insist being the main provider for your family. (Do not resist him on this one, it is quite important for him!)

That doesn't mean he won't help around the household, especially after your child is born - he is actually very, very good cook and will take care of your dinners at least a few times per week.

As a father, I imagine he is very caring and loving, but will become more strict as they start to grow older. He values fairness and order a lot, so it will for sure reflect in his parenting style.

Your child absolutely adores him though - Neji is definitely their role model and the best teacher. You, on the other hand, will be the more laid-back parent, using any chance to spoil them or treat them with some extra sweets/toys behind Neji's back.

Neji is very confident as a parent, so he won't really have any worries about how you are raising your little one. What worries him, however, is how much less time you are both spending together.

I think once your child reach toddler age, he would start declining more and more missions, so he can stay at home. I also imagine that seeing his growth and commitment to the family, Hiashi would involve him in the leadership of the clan.

He will still find time to organise little dates just for both of you or late midnight walks, when you can enjoy only each other's company.

He would grow more serious and less fun with time, but given how much responsibilities he how stressful his life is, you would try and support him in every decision he makes (even when you are not fully convinced by his reasoning).

Your love would blossom from fun and carefree to mature and responsible. (& tbh I think that is absolutely beautiful!)

Both of you want at least one more child, so I imagine you would get pregnant a two or three years after you gave birth to your first born.

cc artwork: Daniel Clarke

#kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #sabaku no gaara #gaara x reader #neji hyuga #neji x reader #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons

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imtooscaredforthis · 4 months

Text

Antagonist

Chapter Twenty Four: Alone Together

Mentions of: NSFW/Sexual Content, P in V, Oral sex, and slight drug use

A/N: Trying to post this for the fifth time today bcs tumblr fucking sucks. Enjoy!!

Tags: @vandeaad @prettycutebunny @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya

You watched as your handsome companion paced around your room nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I came here. I just- I can’t stop thinking and I can’t sleep and-”

“Leon, it’s fine. Here, sit down and relax.” You told him. You would offer him another form of relaxation, but it’s the illegal kind and he kind of was a cop…so you’re not sure if he’d approve. You stuck to words of reassurance instead. “You know you can tell me anything right? We’re friends.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking…about you. I can’t get you off my mind, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was saying. oh. Oh.

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s been killing me. I just had to tell you. I want you, _______.” You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something. All you knew was that you wanted this too, more than anything.

So, you leaned in and kissed him. You kissed him hard, feeling the lust and want thrumming through your body, your heart racing. He kissed you back, slightly surprised by your actions, but reciprocating nonetheless. His lips were so soft against yours, keeping up with your quick pace.

You hadn’t done anything like this in a long time…even before you wound up here. You were far too busy with taking care of your sister, working constantly to make it by. Most of your sexual experiences had been average at best, but you had a good feeling about this one. Especially with how you could feel the butterflies and fireworks going off in your stomach as the kiss deepened.

You straddled him, pushing him back against the bed. You began to kiss down his neck, sucking hickeys into it, and nibbling occasionally. He groaned when you sucked on a sensitive spot, making him buck his hips against your lower back. You smirked as you felt his hardness pressing against you, repeating the action a couple of times.

“Wait, y-you’re sure you want this? You’re sure that I’m- that we’re not moving too fast?” He asked, slightly apprehensive as you began to unbuckle his belt.

“Yeah, You want this and I want it too. Nothing wrong with that. We’re just two adults who want to have a good time.” You pulled his pants down slightly, eyeing the bulge in his boxers. You stroked him through the material, before running your thumb over a damp patch where some precum started to leak through.

“Don’t you want to feel good?” You cooed, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

“Yes- yes. I do. Please just- touch me.” His head fell to the side as he begged. You smirked at him, reaching inside and stroking his cock, making him moan.

You pulled away from him, moving down and positioning yourself between his legs. You wiggled his pants and boxers further down, smirking up at him. His cheeks went bright pink. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I want to, so I’m doing it.” You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his tip. He had a pretty cock, larger than average, not too thick and not too long, with a throbbing pink tip. You opened your mouth and loosened your jaw, slowly working yourself down him.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned as you began to bob your head on him. You moved his free hand to the back of your head, letting him run his fingers through your hair and guide you.

Despite his hand in your hair, you went at your own pace, going a little faster just to watch him struggle. He gripped your hair hard, but not hard enough to be painful, his eyes rolling while he moaned. “God, You’re so good.”

He was a pretty sight, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his face all flushed and sweaty, and pink lips parted. His chest heaved and his were thighs spread wide open, jerking in sensitivity.

“W-wait-” He moaned as you went faster, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth. You made sure to keep eye contact as you watched him finish, committing the sight to memory.

You swallowed around him, letting him finish down your throat. Then, you pulled away with a parting kiss to his tip, making him jolt with overstimulation. “Jesus- that was- that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Smirking, you leaned up and kissed him, brushing the hair out of his face, and letting him taste himself on your tongue. You pulled away. “Trust me, we’re just getting started.”

You removed your clothes and helped get rid of the rest of his. He kissed you, reaching down to caress your cunt. He ran two fingers over your slit, groaning at how soaked you were.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your lips, before kissing your neck gently. He rubbed slow gentle circles on your clit, and you couldn’t help but melt in his grip.

He pressed one finger in, and then two, slowly working you open. You gasped when he rubbed against that spongy spot inside, your eyes fluttering. This was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You whined when he pulled his fingers out, your cunt clenching around nothing, needing to be filled. “I’m sorry- I just- I have to be inside.”

You nodded rapidly and straddled him, letting him slowly push his hips up and inside. The stretch burned just a little, before it became nothing but bliss. Once you were fully adjusted, you moved first, planting your hands on his chest and slowly rocking yourself.

Your nose brushed against his as you kissed him again, gazing down at him and watching his body. It looked like something carved out of a statue. His lean and muscular body and abs tensing with every roll of your hips.

He pushed his hips against yours, letting his cock brush against your G-spot, hitting it every single time. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders. It had been so long since you felt this good. Since the euphoria took over your senses and left you to just think about this.

“Fuck, Leon. Just like that.” You moaned breathlessly. He held your waist, his hips moving in unison with yours.

You were bouncing even faster against him now, and you let him lean in and wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You arched your back, letting your eyes flutter as you moaned louder.

You had forgotten how good this felt. How good it could be. You should’ve done this a long time ago.

He rubbed at your clit and pushed into you harder, managing to get you to come first. He whined at the feeling of you pulsing around him before he finished quickly after, pulling out and climaxing on your stomach.

The two of you lay there in an exhausted heap, panting softly. You smiled over at him. “You feel better now?”

“Yeah..I do..”

It wasn’t long until he left, he had to go to a trial. You didn’t mind him going. To be honest, you weren’t sure how you felt about having him stay the night. He got dressed and walked over to you, kissing you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.” Once he left, you lit a cigarette. You took a few deep drags, slipping under the blankets and melting into the mattress, satisfied, exhausted, and alone…or so you thought.

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 6 months

Text

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Eddie's POV

Eddie was cursing himself every way under the sun. This was so stupid. This wasn't going to work, but he'd rather be in custody than be dead, and even these idiots wouldn't try to kill him around a bunch of cops. Hopefully. His stomach churned at the thought of Fred's body twisted up like that. . .that it could have happened to Chrissy. . .that it still could happen to her. It could happen to Steve, too, and to Max. They needed to find a way to stop Vecna, and in order to do that, they needed these goons out of their way.

Eddie was driving faster than he had ever done in his life, and he was always pretty risky with his driving. They were getting close to him now, almost catching up with him. Now he was cursing his stupid piece of crap van. They were going to catch up to him, and they were going to kill him. It was like a punch to the gut. The image of his uncle crying over his body and that once again, he had let him down. He had disappointed him just like his father had done so many times. No, he wasn't going to be like his fucking father. Eddie screamed as he pressed his foot so hard against the gas petal, tears falling down his cheeks as he let out a furious sob. He pulled into the parking lot of the police station and spilled out onto the pavement as he climbed out of the van, his legs shaking. It was Officer Moore who found him.

"Munson?"

"They're going to kill me," Eddie cried.

Jason's car screeched into the parking lot, and the jocks stepped out. It seems as though they were stupid enough to still be carrying their weapons.

"Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to put your weapons down," Officer Moore said as he put his hand on his gun.

"You don't understand, officer. Munson is a monster! He killed Fred, and he broke Chrissy's arm with the power of his mind," Jason said.

"Isn't he a third time senior?" Officer Moore asked.

"Yeah," Jason said.

"So you're telling me that he killed someone with the power of his mind?" Officer Moore asked. "His mind?"

"Man's got a point. I am a little dense," Eddie said.

"I know what I saw, Officer!" Jason screeched.

"I think what happened here is that your girlfriend left you for Munson, and some poor innocent kid got caught in your crossfire!" Officer Moore yelled. "Put. Your. Weapons. Down. NOW!"

"He's a killer!" Jason screamed.

Moore pulled out his gun and pointed it at Jason, as he radioed for backup.

"Munson is a lot of things, but he's no killer. I know because despite everything, when I got shot, he could have left me to bleed to death, but instead, he let his father place the blame on his shoulders and walk away while doing everything he could do to save my life," Officer Moore said. "Put your weapons down now!'

Chief Powell and the other police officers came running out of the station. They pointed their guns at the jocks who had no choice but to put their weapons down. They were quickly put in handcuffs.

"Man, Patrick was right in saying no to you," Connor growled as they handcuffed him. "You're fucking crazy, Carver."

Officer Moore waited until they were all inside and helped Eddie up.

"You're not under arrest, kid, but you're going to have to come inside for questioning," Officer Moore said.

The questioning didn't last as long as he thought it would, especially because most of the jocks threw Jason under the bus. The only who remained loyal to Jason was Andy, but Eddie figured that it was because Andy was crazy himself. Eddie was walking out of the station just as Wayne was about to walk in.

"Boy, you weren't at the trailer this morning, and I was about to send out a search party when they called me to come down here," Wayne said.

Phil Callahan and Chief Powell, along with another squad car, pulled out of the station's driveway. Their sirens wailed. Eddie figured they were probably headed to the driveway. He turned away from them and looked back at his uncle.

"Shit, everything happened so fast. I meant to call you this morning. Chrissy's arm got broken last night, and then I was at the hospital with her, and then I went with her to her uncle's house. Steve was there, too, as well as her cousin, Vickie, and Steve's friend, Robin. Jason thought that I had broken Chrissy's arm, but I did not! He gave me a black eye and tore off part of my eyebrow," Eddie rambled on.

"Hold up, slow down, son," Wayne said. "Is this Chrissy girl your fiancee?"

"Oh God, you heard about that?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, sure did," Wayne said.

"That's just a misunderstanding. We're just dating. . .me, Chrissy, and Steve Harrington," Eddie said.

"You happy about that?" Wayne asked.

"We haven't even gone on a first date yet, but yeah, pretty happy," Eddie said.

"Good," he said softly. "Tell me about the dead kid."

"I don't think you're gonna believe me," Eddie said.

"Try me," Wayne said.

"Okay, well, not here. Let's get in the van," Eddie said.

Eddie knew he probably shouldn't be telling Wayne this, but after the incident with Al, he didn't want to keep anything from him again. So, he crawled into the van while Wayne got into the passenger's side and told Wayne everything. When he finished, Wayne was silent and staring straight ahead.

"Things have always been weird in this town, even since Victor Creel," Wayne said, after a long silence.

"Victor Creel?" Eddie asked.

"He's the one who killed his family and gouged out their eyes in 1959. Eventually, he tried to do the same thing to himself, cut out his eyes, that is. He's still up in Pennhurst," Wayne said.

"Fred's eyes. . .they were. . .," Eddie trailed off. "Do you think Victor escaped?"

"Don't know. I figured we would have heard something if we had," Wayne frowned. "You kids are dealing with this stuff without any adults?"

"Well, they did have Hopper before, but he died, and Joyce Byers moved to California. Technically, Steve, Chrissy, Nancy, Robin, and I are adults," Eddie said.

"Only legally," he said with a snort. "Jesus."

"Oh, and there's this weird reporter dude who lives in Illinois who lives in like a bunker," Eddie said.

Wayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'd rip out my hair, but I want to keep what's left of it," he said. "Probably going to fall out anyway. What's the plan here?"

"Well, we find out where this guy's projecting from, and then we kill him," Eddie said.

"This guy is using his mind to kill people, and you think a bunch of kids are going to take him down?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I really didn't want to be the one to question it," Eddie winced. "Besides, our plan so far involved finding his other victims, and we did that. Unfortunately, we were unable to save Fred, so we need to stop this guy as soon as possible before it gets to Steve, Chrissy, and Max."

"That girl's been through enough," Wayne said sighing. "How did Chrissy snap out of it?"

"She heard me and Vickie scream," he frowned.

"So, maybe it's her connection to you both combined that did it. Is Vickie this cousin you mentioned?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, they grew up together," Eddie replied.

"You knew Chrissy since that talent show. I remember you couldn't stop talking about her," Wayne said. "Eddie, what's always been something you've been able to connect with?"

"D&D?" Eddie asked.

"Well, you can't do a whole campaign, son," he said. "It has to be quick, right?"

"Oh, music!" Eddie exclaimed and looked thoughtfully at him. "So, maybe if we find out what their favorite song is. . . "

"When you were a baby, that was always what used to get through to you when you were upset about something," Wayne said.

"I guess this means you're involved now, too?" Eddie asked.

"Like hell I'm letting you kids do this on your own," Wayne scowled.

A knocking on the window startled the both of them, but only Eddie screamed. Dustin's excited face pressed up against the glass.

Chapter Nine

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wtfwhy · 5 months

Text

HOW I WOULD REWRITE THE TEEN WOLF MOVIE

First of all its a slice of life comedy

No villain just normal problems, but maybe background Monroe issues

Each character has a running gag or a funny arc

Scott:

Runs his own veterinary business but accidentally placed his building in a place with primary cat people. He can not treat cats because they go crazy around him (he tells the humans he's allergic to cats). So the whole movie is him talking to real estate agents about buying a new building and selling his current one. The process is painfully slow. (but the new place is in beacon hills were this all takes place)

Kira:

Is still not in the movie but a bit after 6b she came back from the skinwalkers and she and scott get married. During the movie she's actually having a girls weekend with the skinwalkers because they became good friends

Lydia:

She and Stiles have twins (like 10 years old or something) and a newborn baby. Stiles convinces Lydia to take a break cause she's so stressed and to go visit their friends (so thats why shes in bh) during the movie she'll be having a conversation interrupts by taking a phone call. Its the twins' school. She is the leader of the PTA. This happens multiple times throughout the movie. (minor detail of her being super successful, getting that feilds medal, and being like the second Stephen Hawkins basically)

Stiles:

Is at home taking care of the newborn, we cant hear his voice but Lydia talks to him on the phone.

Jackson:

Is just constantly hanging out with lydia the entire movie, her sidekick, her goon

Malia:

Life way more put together than in the real movie. She works as like a camp ranger nature person or whatever, has weekly dinner with Mr. Tate, and is overall living her best life. Shes currently single but like every guy her age in beacon hills is trying to get with her. Shes also internet famous. She has simps. She lives in beacon hills but has traveled to a few different countries, including france

Parish:

Is no longer a cop because he found his true calling in modeling

Sheriff:

Retired and tired. Lydia is staying with him during her visit. He's just really happy about being a grandfather

Derek:

Same basically, a cool dad, so similar to tyler heclens (idk sp) portrayal of clark kent that a joke about that is made

The scene where he talks to coach is there so that coach can not recognize him and then derek is like "oh sorry, how about now?" (he walked into the corner of the room, clenched his fists at his side, and started glaring like he was about to kill someone) and coach is like omg yeah i remember you, hows it been?

Also he is married to braeden and she is elis step mom

ALSO he has 11 kids including eli, he is tom baker cheaper by the dozen.

Eli:

Stiles' biggest fan, just like that one post✊ (i saw a post about that being why hes like stiles and it annoying derek and its one of the funniest things ever, i dont remeber the poster sorry) calls all of the original pack uncle or aunt. He and Malia besties. His arc is he has a boyfriend or girlfriend and is trying desperately for no one to find out because they all babysitted him and are notorious for telling embarassing baby stories to his friends and previous partners. He's the oldest sibling.

Chris:

Literally just chilling, planning a tropical vacation, is married to Melissa

Melissa:

Still works at hospital, overly mushy with chris, especially in front of peter

Peter:

Same as usual but 10x more dramatic. Lives on Melissa's coach. Theres a few random times in the movie hes being interviewed like hes in the office. He's the only one that this happens with.

Issac:

Only speaks in french, but there are subtitles for the audience. Only speaks English to Chris even though Chris knows french. Malia and him are friends from when she visited france.

Liam:

Professional lacrosse player, is in the lacrosse nfl (i have no idea if thats a thing) hangs out with mason and on his off time he leads an anger management class

Mason:

Politician, the only thing stopping him from being president is his age. Corey uses his powers to steal incriminating evidence against masons evil political opponents. They are married.

Theo:

He's a trailer life vlogger, very successful online. Regularly hits up scott and liam for no particular reason (its because hes lonely) its never mentioned but there's a brief shot of his trailer and on one of the walls there's a picture of the pack with a picture of theo tapped to it. And/or just a picture of stiles* Bonus points for hearts.

He goes to liams class as a demonstration on how not to beat someone up when you're angry (liam and theo usually end up fighting anyway)

Allison:

Either not in it or inexplicably alive. No mention as of how or why or when she came back. At one point there is a very clear reference to her death so the audience knows it wasn't reconned or something

OR ( my sister's idea) Chris Ouija boards her every friday night and they chat

Deaton:

Just doing completely unrelated shady shit, which all ends up being something super anti-climatic

This is my vision

*to clarify, i dont ship them, its just that how obsessed theo was with void stiles lives rent free in my head

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rosemary-morgan · 1 year

Text

Connor(RK800) X F.Reader - Safe heaven (Part 1)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself. OC Steven belongs to me.)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Warning: mention of domestic violance! hurt and comfort, angst, reader is very affraid!

Summary: Connor always made you feel safe and protected. Oh, but if only Connor had seen the signs earlier, he could have gotten you out of your hell faster...

👉Read part 2

Connor(RK800) X F.Reader - Safe heaven (Part 1)

Detroit Police Department

19 May 2040 - 22:45

Michigan, Detroit

"How does that feel, you piece of shit?"

Hank looked at the young man in front of him, his nose already smeared with blood. Handcuffed, he sat in the interrogation room and Hank was more than determined to make this bastards life miserable.

"Well, talk!"

But Hank was only met with a hateful glare and Hank was losing his patience!

"You picked the wrong girl, asshole! Sucks when she's got cop in the family, huh? Son of a bitch!"

Hank wasn't shy about getting physical. Who was going to do anything about it? For Hank, there were no rules at the moment. Besides, rules were made to be broken. Especially since he had already given Steven a bloody nose even before he brought him to the police station.

"I don't know what that crazy bitch told you! I didn't do anything..."

Without warning, Hank punched him right in the face and this time the man groaned loudly.

"FUCK!"

"You're not getting out of here alive, Steven. I know for a fact that you did this to her. You fucking scumbag!"

"The whore has started! She provoked me!"

And another punch in the face! Hank could go on like this all night long. Steven had just confessed that he had attacked Y/N.

"Just give me one reason, and I'll blow your fucking brain out!"

And when Hank Anderson was pissed, he was capable of anything! Especially when it came to protecting his loved ones and Y/N was very important to him.

"ANDERSON!"

And just as it was starting to get fun for Hank, his boss interrupted him. Unlike Hank, Fowler kept strictly to the rules. However, this one didn't know anything about this particular case yet...

Anderons looked at Y/N tormentor with hatred, leaning out towards him.

"You won’t escape me," he whispered threateningly, making Steven visibly nervous.

At the same time in Hank's apartment...

"Y/N?"

The young woman was completely beside herself, not even hearing Connor at first. The android had been very careful not to startle her, making his voice sound melancholic, so that she knew she was safe here. Here, with him. Connor looked at the young woman with concern as she sat huddled on the sofa, staring off into space. She was chewing on her fingers; her gaze seeming so blank, but at the same time you could see the countless tears running down her cheeks. Probably everything was playing out in her mind's eye at the moment. Her body was trembling and Connor feared that Y/N would not forget so easily. Inwardly, the android sighed, wondering over and over why people hurt each other. The android approached her carefully, kneeling on the ground in front of her, so as not to startle her.

"Y/N?"

This time she responded. Her gaze sought his. His warm, loving gaze that she had always liked.

"You don't have to be afraid. He can't hurt you anymore."

Not as long as Connor was with her. And Hank would never let anything happen to the young woman either. Y/N let out a sob, but nodded before her face turned back to sadness and finally burst into tears. She let herself fall forward, right into Connor's shoulder, seeking comfort from him. Carefully, Connor wrapped his arms around her delicate body, trying to soothe her by stroking her back and letting her cry on his shoulder, until she would calm down.

Here they sat now, in Hank's apartment, while the lieutenant at the station was giving hell to the man that had hurt Y/N.

"You were very brave today, Y/N," Connor whispered to her as he gently stroke through her hair. She moved a bit away from him, to look at him. Into his brown doe eyes that radiated so much warmth.

"I-I'm so glad you guys are here!"

She sobbed softly, wiping tears from her cheeks as she clung to Connor's gray jacket with her other hand. The android smiled warmly at her, nodding. Hank and he would always be there for her.

Connor stayed seated with her until she calmed down a bit.

"Would you like some tea, Y/N? Or would you like something to eat? Do you want me to order something to eat?"

But the young woman wasn't hungry. She just shook her head, smiling weakly. It was sweet how much Connor cared about her.

"No, thanks. I don't want anything right now."

Suddenly Sumo, Hank's big dog, came over, sniffing at Y/N first before nudging her with his nose and eventually resting his head on her lap. Loving as the young woman was, she stroked his thick, soft fur and sighed contentedly. Connor stroked him as well, and the dog couldn't be more comfortable at the moment. However, Sumo felt her pain and that made him sad too.

"When is Hank coming?" the young woman asked. Hank was like family to her. He had known her father well, always remembering Hank's countless visits when she was a child. After all, she was almost like a daughter to him.

"Hank's still at the office. I don't think he'll be back so soon."

Connor knew what Hank would do to Y/N's tormentor, and honestly, Connor would love to keep him company and beat some manners into Steven. Is that how you treat a woman? When Connor had found her an hour ago, her face had been streaked with tears and her nose had been smeared with blood, her top completely torn... Clearly she had been abused by her boyfriend and Connor was very glad that Y/N had asked Hank for help. She was very lucky they were both nearby. Worse things could have happened.

"Is he going to jail, Connor?"

The desperate look on her face nearly killed Connor. She was terrified of Steven and he could understand that. The android sensed an increased heart rate from her. Her body temperature changed, and when Connor reached for her hands, her fingers were so cold.

"Hey... It's going to be okay. You're safe with me."

Carefully, he lifted her chin, searching the look in her eyes that held so much fear and pain. What had this man done to her? How many days and months had she gone through this now? Connor wished he had realized all of this sooner.

"Hank and I will make sure he stays locked up!"

Hank and Connor had arrested Steven while still on the scene. Steven had been carrying a knife, had been yelling like a madman, threatening Y/N. This was clear evidence that would lead to Steven's arrest.

"I'm so scared. What if..."

Connor knew exactly what she was about to say and he interrupted her immediately.

"No, Y/N. He won't dare come near you and he will be condemned. However, you must agree to testify against him."

Connor could imagine how difficult this would be for the young woman.

"I-I... oh God, Connor..."

How was she going to do this? All she wanted was to forget and live a normal life! To have her old life back, before she had met Steven. Why had this demon come into her life? Why hadn't she noticed the red flags right away?

Y/N's whole body started to shake and Connor sat down with her on the sofa, gently pulling her into his arms, something Y/N appreciated at the moment. While burying her face deep into his chest, she could sense the fragrance of his aftershave. Aftershave? Certainly unusual for an android, but a lot had changed in the last two years. Especially after the revolution of the machines. Connor was no longer a programmed android who only took orders. No, he was an individual person who could feel emotions like sadness and love. Fears and worries; and right now, all his worry was on Y/N.

Connor was a little surprised when Y/N laid her head on his lap while stretching the rest of her body on the sofa. Connor's eyes were completely on her as he gently stroked through her soft hair, silently being there for her. It wasn't long before Y/N fell asleep from exhaustion. Finally, after so many months, she could sleep again. Without having to fear that she would be harmed in her sleep. She knew Connor was with her, and on top of that, she was in Hank's home. Her safe place was right here. Connor watched over her and he imagined all she had been through with Steven. She was so exhausted, completely broken down, and in the last few weeks she had laughed less and less. Connor hadn't known her like this. When he had first met her two years ago, she had been full of life. Her beautiful smile, her friendly nature was special in this cold world. And then Steven had taken this from her piece by piece. He was so infinitely sorry to see her in this condition.

"Don't be afraid. I will always be with you."

He was her angel who would protect her...

Careful not to wake her, Connor disengaged from her, only to gently pick her up in his arms, taking her to the guest room. She was fast asleep, the android could tell by her breathing. He laid her down in bed, covering her so she wouldn't get cold.

"Good night, Y/N..."

He bent down to her, gently kissed her forehead and stayed with her for quite a while...

As the first rays of sunlight fell through the window and warmed Y/N's skin, the young woman gently sighed as she slowly awoke from her sleep. At first, she didn't know where she was and her eyes searched the room, yet she was deeply wrapped in the sheets and she wouldn't dare get out of bed so quickly before she understood where she actually was. But when the memories came up so slowly, she understood immediately. She was more than relieved to be at Hank place.

"Thank God," she whispered as she threw herself on her back and stroked her hair. "Dear Lord, thank you..."

Instantly, Steven crept into her thoughts and fear overcame her again. What if he sought her out? What if Hank had to let him go again after all? She felt sick, her stomach tightening painfully at the thought. She pulled the blanket over her again and hid under the sheets, seeking shelter and protection as she began to cry.

"Connor..."

Was he still here?

"Connor? Connor!"

A few seconds later, the android was standing at the door, looking anxiously at the young woman who was looking at him for help. His LED glowed a deep yellow. Had she had a nightmare? Usually, after traumatic experiences, people tend to relive many things in their sleep.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

The android sat down with her and the young woman instantly snuggled against his chest, sighing in relief as she felt Connor's strong arms around her.

"It's all right now", she whispered. Connor smiled at her words, his LED glowing a bright blue again.

"Did you have a bad dream, Y/N?"

"No", she whispered as Connor gently stroked through her hair. "I was just afraid you wouldn't be around..."

"I'll always be there," he replied softly, hugging her a little tighter to give his words even more expression. The young woman felt very comfortable around the android and she didn't feel any fear at the moment either.

"Are you hungry, Y/N?" Connor asked her after a while, but the young woman just shook her head. She had no appetite. Connor didn't think this was a good idea, but he couldn't force her to eat anything. Still, he tried to reason with her, because eventually a hot meal certainly wouldn't go amiss.

"I know you don't have any appetite. But maybe try some fruit and yogurt first? Or maybe even some pancakes?"

The young woman seemed to think about it before sighing deeply and finally agreeing to his suggestion.

"Okay, Connor."

Satisfied with her answer, the android smiled.

"Okay, then I'll prepare some for you quickly!"

The young woman ran a few recipes through her head, because pancakes with fruit and fresh yogurt sounded really good! Fluffy and delicious! Just comfort food! Wait, Connor would make them? She had to smile at the thought, because the fact that he was going to the effort to do this for her was sweet.

Then Connor rose to leave before Y/N gently grabbed his hand and looked up at him.

"Thank you, Connor. For caring so much."

And in his eyes she suddenly saw that gleam, that look of affection, which made her heart beat faster for a moment.

"No need to mention it, Y/N."

Because she was incredibly important to him, and he wanted her to be okay. Most of all, that she felt safe and secure around him. Connor would really do anything to see her smile again.

"Connor! Y/N?"

Hank brought the android out of his thoughts. The lieutenant must have been done with the interrogation and was certainly tired. After all, he had been out all night.

"Over here, Hank!" called Connor to the man. Y/N rose from her spot and met Hank halfway. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and he held her close.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?"

Hank sounded tired and exhausted.

"Connor's with me. I'm fine with him," she whispered, and those were the exact words Hank had wanted to hear.

"Good. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet. But Connor's about to make some pancakes."

At that, the lieutenant raised a brow.

"'Him? Pancakes? Are you sure, Y/N?"

"You want some, too, Lieutenant?"

"Sure, Connor! There's nothing like having to spend all day in the shithouse, after eating your pancakes!"

It was meant as a joke, and it didn't miss its mark, as the young woman laughed. Hank really couldn't imagine Connor cooking up something like that. But what could he say? He trusted the android as he had surprised him so many times in many ways. Probably this would be the best pancakes Hank would ever have.

But for Y/N now, of course, was interested to know what would happen to Steven now.

"Hank?"

Her serious and, at the same time, worried expression, made the smile on Hank's face slowly but surely disappear.

"Come. Let's sit down, Y/N."

Hank gently took her by the hand and led the young woman to the sofa, where he sat down with her. She looked at him with curiosity and her heart hammered madly, her hands getting cold all over again as she got all nervous. Hopefully Hank would have some good news for her.

"Y/N, we need your report."

"B-But... I don't have to see him, do I?"

The lieutenant shook her head. She wouldn't cross his path, he had made sure of that.

"No. But you have to tell us... everything," he said softly, before running a hand through his hair. He didn't like the idea of the young woman being pressured into telling the police everything in detail either. He was afraid to hear what had happened. What that bastard had done to her. But Hank knew that it could help to put Steven in jail for several years.

Connor listened to the conversation while he took care of breakfast. Sumo was not far from his feet, dozing off. Connor's LED lit up yellow again when he thought of Steven. This guy had been suspicious to him from the beginning and he cursed himself for not noticing sooner what an asshole this guy was. But he was all the more proud of Y/N for being such a brave woman.

"Okay, Hank. But I'm only going to talk to you and Connor..."

Hank nodded as he put his hand on her shoulder. Just Connor and him.

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madwheelerz · 1 year

Text

Today I’ll go over my favorite proofs regarding the manifestation theory and also a rant that I had said I would do ages ago, but never got around to. I’ll be doing these in order of season so it should be easy enough to follow along.

Season 1

In the very first episode we are introduced to the boys playing DnD and witness Will make a failed roll. We get this dialogue between Lucas and Will-

Which essentially warns us against Mike knowing things. Of course, this doesn’t work out because Will does tell Mike about the failed roll.

Then he gets kidnapped by the Demogorgon, essentially continuing the game in real life. It’s also interesting to note that the events seem to follow a continuation of the first DnD game that the boys play because the monsters are week to fire, but it won’t kill them completely most likely due to the initial failure in the game.

Season 2->3

I’d also like to point out that Mike knowing things is weird. He shouldn’t know them. Hopper calls him out on it when he says that they can’t just kill the monsters with guns.

The next thing is a combination and barely involves season two, but remember that super angry terminator dude who just hated Hopper’s guts for no reason and seemed to want to hunt him down in season 3? He looked like he came right out of a movie, but he also didn’t seem to have any motive to hunt down Hopper the way that he did. He was on Hopper’s case even before the entire ordeal with Alexei. Here’s what Hopper says before running into this guy.

Surely, that’s the only time he’s said something like that-

Live terminator reaction lmao

In conclusion, this man has no reason to distaste Hopper except for the fact that a drunk Hopper bumped into him. This guy proceeds to probe around looking for Hopper and not Alexei while referring to him as a “psycho”. Aside from seeming like he got plucked straight out of a movie to be some avenger because a kid found him cool, he’s more clearly targeting an American cop as opposed to the traitor.

The only person who currently has beef with Hopper, thinks he’s “crazy”, and would absolutely prefer some distance between them (cough*ill-annoy*cough) is Mike.

Also, El’s powers notably don’t become targeted by the Flayed in season 3 until after the big argument that has every ganging up against Mike to let her use her powers.

There’s also the entire thing with Suzie and the Russian code. It’s mainly weird because of how they have Suzie point out that Dustin should know the code because it’s a constant. There is no way that the writers are actually trying to convince us that a bunch very intelligent scientist came up with the idea to use Planck’s constant as a code, but a kid particularly dedicated to physics might have.

Season 4

Jason’s speech is like insane to me so I’m going to transcribe the bites of it that are important to me and give a manifestation theory overview of it because I think about it a lot.

“And I’ve come to accept an awful truth.

These murders are ritualistic sacrifices.

This isn’t incorrect Vecna is lowkey sacrificing people in order to open the gates.

And Eddie Munson is the leader of one of these cults.

Mike too lol.

The mall fire. All those unexplained deaths over the years.

The leader is the one that’s being blamed for everything but given that Eddie wasn’t introduced until this season so it’s impossible to say that he caused all of this to happen from the get-go. Mike on the other hand has been around since season one and given that episode one frames the events that occur to be continuation of the game, he was the Dm for it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch to apply this to him. Particulary when Mike is attributed as a leader for the first time this season while we have the chaotic mess of the leader supposedly being responsible for the events that are unfolding. Also the episode two summary goes ‘A plane brings Mike to California – and a dead body brings Hawkins to a halt.’ This sort of pairs the two events and we go from the cops looking into the events to Mike arriving in California from a visual standpoint.

A lie designed to conceal the truth.

Hiding him.

The frames of the Wheeler parents absolutely means that this has to be about Mike in my opinion. Mike is the only him who both Ted and Karen could be trying to hide and protect. It’s also not like Mike is not in danger. We see Nancy shut down Jason’s attempts at finding out Mike’s whereabouts later on.

Allowing him to… to continue his rampage.

This ironically reminds me of the Wheeler parents not getting involved with Mike lashing out in season two at the dinner table. They let him lash out and do whatever until it become inconvenient for them and by the time that had happened they still went about it in a way that was pretty bad

…”

#manifestation theory #i could talk about the terminator for days bc it's just so funny to me #these are just like my favorite things to think about regarding the manifestation theory #some things are cut but hey

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hells-wells · 1 year

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Don't Blame The Movies 9

You receive a phone call from Billy in Jail, and everything is becoming more blurred. Is Billy behind the Ghostface attacks?

Pairings///// Billy X Reader, Billy X Stu X Reader----//////--------Warnings----- more Gaslighting, Ghostface shenanigans

“Ha ha, real funny.”

“I’m not joking!” Billy growled through the phone “I need you to go and tell my dad, he’s not picking up for me or sheriff Burke.”

You walked over to the window, peeling back the curtain “What the fuck did you even do?”

You could hear his groan through the phone “I didn’t do it, they think I attacked Sid…”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, taking a deep breath “That’s crazy!” Just then you spotted Mr Loomis’s car coming down the street and pulling into their driveway “I’ve got to run.”

Billy chuckled “Are you fucking serious?”

“Your dad just pulled up, stay strong and don’t say shit until your dad gets there.”

“Anything else captain obvious?”

You laughed, saying your goodbyes you ran out the front door, running across the street at full speed, yelling out for Mr Loomis once you saw him getting out of his car. He looked up at you with worry.

“Y/n? Are you alright?!” His eyes darted behind you to the other side of the street “You shouldn’t be outside running around”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think! No, I’m ok but Billy’s been trying to call you”

He looked taken aback “Isn’t he inside doing homework?”

You shook your head “They’ve arrested him! You’ve gotta get down there fast!”

You’ve never seen Mr Loomis move so fast, he threw his briefcase back into the car quickly thanking you before speeding off. Walking back towards the house your mother came storming out to the front

porch “What in the world do you think you’re doing?! There’s some psycho roaming about and you’ve run outside at this time of night?!”

Letting out a loud groan “Mom, I’m fine. I had to run a message over to Mr Loomis.”

Two hours had passed and you still hadn’t heard any news, pacing back and forth you hear the cab pull up. Grabbing your bag and running out the door. It felt like a long drive, arriving at the police station you noticed the news vans had gone. Making your way in you couldn’t see Sidney anywhere.

They must have followed her…

“You should be at home.” Mr Loomis came out from behind a side door, making you jump.

Jump scares run in the family.

“Mr Loomis! I-I came to check in on Billy.”

He stood there in thought for a moment before caving in “That should be alright, I still have some stuff to talk over with Burke. Hey, can you can Y/n here down to see Billy?”

The officer groaned but motioned for you to follow.

“Thanks.” You smiled at Mr Loomis before walking down the back, Billy came into sight. He was laying on a bench staring up at the ceiling.

“Billy!” You ran over to the bars, holding them tightly.

He looked surprised to see you, he was next to you before you could blink.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“I had to check on you.”

He sighed “How did you even get here?”

“Cab.”

“Wha- are you insane?” His voice sounded worried but he couldn’t stop a smile from forming.

Smiling back “Only a little. Nilly, what the fuck happened?”

Billy looked away and spoke in a low voice “I didn’t do it… Cops said I scared him away but sid freaked out.”

Seeing the hurt in his eyes you felt horrible for him, you grabbed his hand through the bars “Do you have to stay here tonight?” He gripped you hand back, not letting go.

“I don’t know yet… Y/n, you believe me don’t you?”

“You need to ask? Of course I do.”

“It’s time to go” Mr Loomis cut in, you both turned to look at him “You’ll have to stay tonight, they won’t release you until they have the phone records but I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” Billy simply nodded in reply “Y/n, do you need a ride?”

You nodd “I’ll see you tomorrow ok?”

The drive was slow and silent, pulling into the Loomis driveway, Mr Loomis turned to you before getting out “He’s lucky to have you.”

You smiled back “Do you think he did this?” you could hear the heartache in his voice.

“No, Mr Loomis. I trust Billy with my life.”

—-------------

The morning had finally come, and you waiting for Billy outside school. You breathed a sigh of relief when you Spotted him getting dropped off by his dad, he spotted you and made his way over to you. You jumped into a hug “I was so worried!” you breathed in his scent and felt his nose on your ear “Are you ok? Both of you started slowly walking into the building, it was mostly empty, and everyone was already in class.

“I’m fine.”

“So, want to tell me what exactly happened?”

“Not really.”

You exhale “You are exhausting, it’s like pulling teeth getting anything out of you.”

This earned you a slight smile “Hmm, maybe I like making you work for it” he teased you.

You gave a small laugh “Luckily for you, I don’t mind being worked hard” lightly smacking his arm.

His smile grew, looking between you and the road “Oh, I know.”

You rolled your eyes “You wish”

Billy chuckled, you noticed a light blush appeared “Shut up” elbowing you lightly, he looked off to the side for a moment “I’ll catch up with you after class, alright?”

You nodded.

Next Chapter

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theknightmarket · 1 year

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"What can I say? I'm a badass.”

In which Yancy and a new prisoner find each other behind locked doors.

TW: swearing, angst, crime, childhood trauma, drug mentions

Pages: 26 - Words: 10,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Yancy had only ever been in solitary a handful of times. Six to be exact, but the most recent had landed him in hot water with the Warden, so security was bumped up to the max in Happy Trails Penitentiary. They reached a new record with two police dogs and ten guards on patrol at any one time – which, to many other prisons, didn’t seem much, but it was a big deal for this lot. Hell, it had been a while since they had gotten any new prisoners, save for that infamous pair who actually wanted to leave, and they had succeeded. Or people assumed they did because nobody ever heard from them again after their second night. There was a rumor that one managed to escape through the sewer system, while the other just plain disappeared, though neither was ever proven, and the gossip trailed off into the change in routine or exercise equipment.

While most prisoners forgot about the pair, Yancy never quite did. There was always something in the back of his mind that reminded him of them, to the point that it got kinda weird. He would hear a helicopter overhead and think of them, and then the kid shuffling down the hallway definitely said their name, and that glowing box they brought in with them was sitting in the Warden’s office as if he had never taken it out. It was getting on his nerves, and, when he swaggered into the mess hall on a bright, sunny morning, it all got too much.

Yancy made his way over to his usual table, upon which Bam-Bam, Tiny and Sparkless McGee were sprinkled around the plastic benches. Somebody’s meal tray was in the centre, but it was quickly tugged away to make room for him to sit down.

“Mornin’, Yance,” another prisoner called out, but the guy wasn’t in the mood to respond more than a nod in their vague direction. The others immediately picked up on it – living in the same buildings for ten years would do that to you – and pounced to comfort him. Yancy appreciated his friends, he really did, but it wasn’t what he needed now.

There were questions as to his health, the condition of his cell, whether his mood was soured by the bright light. All of these were wrong, but it wasn’t until Sparkles stepped up to the plate that he opened up.

“Visitation day, innit?” Like a sledgehammer to a glass window, Yancy broke the second the ‘v’ came out of his mouth. He wasn’t crying, though! He’d learned that it got him nowhere quick. But he couldn’t help the way his lips shivered, and water pooled in his eyes. That didn’t mean anything, it was just allergies in the barren, completely clear of debris, prison.

“You wanna talk ‘bout it?” And then Yancy started bawling.

“I-I just dunno what I did wrong,” he whispered, trying and failing to keep it together.

The group each chimed in with their ideas, “Maybe they got intimidated by you.” - “Maybe they never got out.” - “Maybe they’re still running from the cops!” but none of them helped him. Yancy loved his clique, they were the closest thing to family he had in the bricks, but he hadn’t told them what really happened to the runaways. None of them even knew they made it past the sewer grate. He wasn’t sure what stopped him from telling them, but something did, and it wasn’t anything he could overcome with some false ideas or promises to visit. They might’ve thought he was crazy, waiting for someone they’d never seen to arrive at the phone, but it was nice they supported him regardless.

“Ay, ay, whatever it is,” Sparkles slapped a hand onto Yancy’s back, a confusing but strangely effective way of calming him down, “ya did nothing wrong. If they don’ wanna see ya, then it’s their loss.”

Yancy nodded to himself slowly, then again with more vigor. Sparkles was right; he had a good life on the inside, just not good enough to keep someone new with him. Who cared? Not him, that’s for sure, and he would rest easy knowing that he had everything he needed right there.

The topic shifted onto something else, and the visitation day was forgotten easily. While, from time to time, Yancy still thought about the escapees, they were generally shoved to the back of his mind, and he focused, instead, on the echo of the bell throughout the prison. After breakfast was an hour of exercise so the inhabitants moved in a messy clump to the backdoor.

In the midst of prisoners and guards, Yancy felt a tap on one of his shoulders. He had never been good at his left and right, but, when he looked in the direction of that tap, nothing was there. Then, a poke on his… other shoulder, but nobody was there either. His eyebrows tightened and he bristled; he didn’t like being tricked, and there he was, looking like an idiot who didn’t know his left and rights. Never mind the fact that he didn’t, somebody was making fun of him, and he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

Yet, however mad he might have been getting, it all disappeared at the sight of Sparkles dashing off through the backdoors, a mischievous grin plastered on his face in a look towards Yancy. A smile appeared on his own face as he chased after his friend, grabbing Tiny’s elbow on the way. A chase Sparkles wanted, and a chase he would get. The two followed in between elbows and batons, avoided the edges of tables, and maneuvered more than a few stationary prisoners. Despite the heightened security, the guards couldn’t care less about their little game; if it kept them out of trouble, who were they to stop it?

So, for the majority of the exercise block, Yancy, Sparkless McGee, Tiny, and whomever they could bring along with them, played a raucous game of tag. Yancy would clamber over dumbbells to get at Bam-Bam, Bam-Bam would sprint through the long-jump sand to catch Tiny, and so on and so forth. He was pretty sure even an officer jumped in to help out Sparkles when he was chasing after another inmate.

Skidding to a stop at the chain-link fence, Yancy looked around. This was the life, huh? Nobody angry, nobody sad, nobody telling him to do stuff that he didn’t wanna do. Sure, he couldn’t leave the walls of the prison, but he had never wanted to. There was nothing that the outside could give him that he didn’t already have within Happy Trails, and, with his hands firm on his hips, he thought that it would provide less. Could you imagine Yancy with a 9-5 job, buying groceries every three days, and picking the kids up after school? He couldn’t, and he didn’t care to try.

He could do without the enraged yelling of the Warden from the backdoors, though.

In quick succession, everyone turned to look at the approaching man, who stampeded against the dirt path like a bull. An ominous hush fell over the yard, but nobody moved a muscle to break it. Instead, they watched intently as the Warden stomped directly to Yancy.

Now, in public, Mr. Murder-Slaughter might not have looked all that intimidating. He was on the shorter side, balding but well-groomed, and easily imagined with a kind smile. However, if you were to meet the guy inside Happy Trails Penitentiary, you would know he could be the meanest son-of-a-bitch you’d ever encounter. He commanded the prison with an iron fist and used them effectively to scare the inmates into submission. He was only made worse by how quickly he could switch from caring to, as his name would imply, murderous. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been incarcerated himself yet.

The prisoners counted their lucky stars when he passed by them and wished all the best for Yancy when the Warden’s glare landed on him.

“Boy, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Yancy snapped out of his paralyzing fear to lower his eyebrows slightly; he didn’t have any idea, and he wasn’t being given a lot to go off of. So, after risking a glance over his shoulder to Sparkles, he shrugged and replied, “Nuh-no, Warden.”

That response only seemed to push his buttons further, leading to him grasping Yancy’s shoulders as if he would run away if he didn’t hold him there. He was pretty sure he’d be leaving marks in the dirt when he moved again.

“Well, then, lemme show ya—” The Warden pulled the boy ahead of him and shoved him in the direction of the cafeteria again. It was hard for Yancy to hide his disappointment, he always had been terrible at covering up emotion, but it didn’t take much for the other inmates to worry for him, before they were cut off by a yell of, “—and get back to your regularly scheduled exercise!”

That sent them into a frenzy, people grasping for handles and throwing each other into the air to seem like they were working out. Yancy didn’t take notice of any of it, too worried about what he was being brought to the Warden’s office for. While he had never spent too long in a school setting, likening it to the principal’s office was the best he could do, and he didn’t like either scenario.

“Go on, sit,” Mr. Murder-Slaughter ordered, faking serenity in the face of pure wrath. He landed himself in his own chair, pulled it close to the desk and held his fingertips together overtop the mat. Altogether, he was scary.

Yancy gulped as he followed suit in the seat opposite.

“Why d’ya think you’re here, boy?” The stinging kindness was cracking by the second, especially with the venom unleashed at the end.

Yancy spluttered for a second. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong recently, but it was anyone’s guess as to what would set the Warden off if he’d had a bad day. Weakly, he muttered, “I dunno.”

“Well, I’ll let ya what ya did!” he exploded, slamming a fist onto the wood of the desk. There was an audible crack as one of the legs dented the stones underneath, and, for the first time in a while, Yancy found himself actually fearing the Warden. It brought up some all-too-familiar experiences, memories that he’d rather keep buried.

His eyes looked down, his hands clasped together, his lips quivered. He didn’t like this at all, but he couldn’t just leave. That’d get him in even bigger trouble.

The Warden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he continued just as strict as he was before, “Not only did you let two high-class prisoners escape, but you also helped them!” He shot up from his seat, the back of it slamming against the wall and shaking the furniture. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he sighed, “We needed them to stay here, but you just had to get them out. Do you want that, too?”

“No, Warden—”

“Do you want to leave, too, huh? ‘Cause we can make that happen, just say the word.”

Yancy was on the verge of shaking, and he could feel the tremors starting to make their way through his spine. He kept his cool, though, bit his lip, and shook his head. “No, Warden, I don’t wanna leave.”

This seemed to calm him down, as his voice dropped to an acceptable volume. Still, he leaned in close over the desk and stared intently into Yancy’s eyes. Really, it was creepy, but he didn’t know what else to do than to stare right back. If he was trying to tell if he was lying, or he just liked putting his inmates on edge, Yancy would never find out; the Warden withdrew as if nothing had happened, and he collapsed again into his chair.

“Look, kid, I get it.” He didn’t believe him. “You see a fresh face, here, and they actually wanna get out so ya help them, ‘cause they’re interesting and new. But that can’t happen no more, or we’ll lose our budget and we’ll, eh, we’ll have to let some of ya go.”

The suggestive look on the Warden’s face scared Yancy. His eyes widened involuntarily, and he, regrettably, started to think once more about life on the outside. What a horrible fate! He’d sooner get transferred than be integrated back into normal society.

“So,” he coughed, “we’re gonna have to give you a punishment. Nothing too serious, but it won’t be fun for ya.”

Yancy understood that he did a bad thing and he needed to have some repercussions for his actions. Personally, he would’ve considered being abandoned by those people he helped to get out punishment enough, but the Warden didn’t need to know about that; if they ever did come, he didn’t want them to get re-arrested just for his spite.

“Now, we’ve had some time to think over a suitable punishment for ya, and we’re all pretty certain this will work out perfectly. It’s light, but you better learn your lesson from it.”

Hey, he would’ve assumed the worst had it not been for his comforting tone, but it seemed like Yancy was getting off relatively scot-free.

“Two weeks in solitary!”

Damn it.

Not ten minutes later, Yancy was stuffed in a barren cell, cold as the grave and the smell of one, too. If he looked hard enough, he would probably interrupt the funeral service for plenty of insects and vermin, but he did little more than take a deep breath, regret it, and flop down on the makeshift slab of a bed. The concrete provided no comfort, and minimal streams of light that trickled in from the small window just teased him. Was it a mistake to help those two escape? Was it worth it?

Any thoughts of doubt were wiped as he recalled the hopeful look on one of their faces and the warm, glow-y feeling that filled up his stomach. Yancy didn’t have many opportunities to do good in the penitentiary, but the times that he made the better choice were ones he cherished.

He focused on those memories for a while, trying to keep out the silence and ignoring the steady fall of the sun and rise of the moon. It wasn’t like he could do anything else to keep busy; solitary wasn’t a physical punishment, but it worked wonders because it was mental. Everything was boring after just a few minutes, and the people who came out the other side were more forgiving, more docile than the ones who had gone in. It acted like a factory machine that pressed inmates into the same shape, just for them to be dumped into an incinerator at the end of it all.

Not Yancy, though – he prided himself on being one of the only prisoners to get out just the same as ever. That’s why he was able to go in six times without cracking. Overtime, he just built up a tolerance to it, like a disease or the chef’s bad cooking. Never once did his happy-go-lucky aura dim.

As the times before this had gone, Yancy was humming to himself by the first half hour. It wasn’t like anyone could tell him to shut it – it was solitary, after all, he was alone – and the quiet was the hardest thing to get along with in the cells. It was some little tune he had heard over the guard’s radio, sweet and slow and easy. He hadn’t much time to practice, but he thought he was pretty good so far. Instruments had been banned after one of the kids smashed a guitar over an officer’s head, and thus whistling lessons had been introduced, and were quickly discontinued when they realized the prisoners were terrible at it. He hadn’t heard anyone whistle for months since then, meaning he was his personal jukebox for the time being.

“You’re actually pretty good.”

Yancy nearly screamed.

He scrambled like a cat doused in water to the other side of his cell, falling off the concrete slab and pressing himself next to the tiny desk. He wasn’t alone, after all, but that thought played second to the panicked thoughts that rushed through his mind unnoticed and unpicked upon. Breaths came in and out of his lungs at much the same speed, until he coughed and stood tall. It was instinct, and he felt stupid enough to sit back down when he fully realized he was trying to size up against the brick wall.

Finally catching his breath, Yancy asked shakily, “Wh- who’re youse?”

Figuring that this guy would be your only company in this dingy cell, you gladly gave him your name. He repeated it in an accent you weren’t overly familiar with.

“Who are you?” you asked in turn when silence had settled once more.

His tone was overly defensive. “Who wants ta know?”

You looked with a confused glare at the brick wall his voice was coming from. He looked back.

“Yancy,” he eventually answered.

Immediately, a wave of realization overcame you; as you were being transported to Happy Trails Penitentiary, your drivers had been holding a very spirited conversation about this one lad. Hyperactive, the ringleader of these prisoners, but pure in a weird sort of way. He knew how to fight, sure, but show him an R-rated movie and you’d want to shove your hands over his ears at the first curse word. There wasn’t much more information than that, but it was enough to get the gist of what the guy was like. The only thing that interested you more was the mention of his name and his place of origin – Yancy, either from Ohio or Brooklyn, and the stark combination was apparently possible given who they were talking about. Now that you were actually hearing it, although it was muffled slightly by the walls, you understood.

“You don’t say…” You chuckled to yourself, unheard by Yancy.

You left the introductions at that. You weren’t sure how you’d pass the time yet, so you focused on your surroundings. It wasn’t much, but you’d seen worse solitaries before. Briefly, you wondered if this could even be considered solitary confinement, considering that it wasn’t, y’know, solitary, but you learned a long time ago to never look a gift horse in the mouth, so you brushed off the thought and kept looking around. The slab you currently sat on was no different to the floor, down to the conspicuous stains splashed around the place. It was a vast change to the weirdly welcoming exterior of the prison.

With how quickly you had succumbed to the quiet, you almost flinched when Yancy began to speak again. It was notably more collected than before, but not aggressive. “So, what’re youse in for?”

Your head tilted involuntarily at his choice of words, but you answered him nonetheless, “Well, I’ve committed arson, assault and property damage, but I got done in for trespassing on this old guy’s farm.”

The laughter came quick and hard, like a tidal wave crashing over a beach, and it almost made you forget that you were in prison at all. Yancy’s voice was sweet, and it extended to the chortled that weaved through the cracks in the brick. You soon joined him with a few chuckles of your own, and, when you had both calmed down, finished with, “What can I say? I’m a badass.”

That got another giggle out of him, but he went silent for the next seconds. What you couldn’t see was Yancy rearranging himself to sit comfortably back on his slab, back against the wall between you and his legs crossed in front of him. It was better than the ground, and he was filled with a strange sense of comradery; he’d never had someone else with him in solitary, so it was a nice change of pace to have someone new to talk to.

“What about you?” you asked, mindlessly gazing out of the window.

“I killed my mum.”

Despite you not being that much better, the sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, coming out as a strangled ‘euf’. Most prisoners you’d come across were guarded about that kind of stuff, especially if it was someone they were related to, but you supposed it was different around here. You’d have to get used to that if you were planning to stay your sentence this time.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips momentarily parted. “Did she deserve it?”

Again, silence flooded back in. Someone lifted the trap, let water pool around your legs, and then Yancy slammed it shut as he replied, “Nah, but it had ta’ be done.”

You could accept that, and he wasn’t going to talk more about it, so you had no other choice. Besides, it wasn’t your place to comment on the morality of his actions, especially when you had no idea why it ‘had ta’ be done’.

Yancy didn’t seem affected by his admission, though, and he continued to speak. “Been here most of my life, so it didn’t really matter that I got caught so fast.”

“How’d you get by?”

“Ah, well, I had my friends, ‘course. They really helped me out in the tighter spots, y’know? Like, when Sparkles landed here and helped me fight off these thugs. Only eighteen, too, so we kinda stuck together after that.”

You unknowingly shuffled forward on your bed, easily enticed by Yancy’s stories with nothing else to do in the cell. His voice was pleasant to listen to, you’d admit that, and the childish joy that painted it was a lifeline in the bleakness.

“He’s the guy with the jangly stuff, right?”

“Yeah! Sparkles McGee‘s his full name. I dunno if he’s Irish or not, he don’t have an accent, but he can be as intimidating as one when someone gets on his bad side.”

There was a menagerie of characters in Happy Trails, meaning that the ones who stood out were either widely outrageous or completely normal; Sparkles was one of the former, and you had remembered hearing clinking from the hallway you were being tugged down before a brunet man emerged from around the corner. You were surprised that he was allowed to keep the things on him, but you weren’t one to waste a perfect opportunity when the guard was yelling at him to slow down.

No point in dwelling on that, now, and you prompted Yancy, “Who else are you close with?”

“There’s Jimmy the Pickle, and Shithole Hank – Bam-Bam, and Tiny, and, yeah, Sparkles McGee…” Technically, Yancy could a majority of the prisoners, and even some guards. He’d been in there long enough to have made a rag-tag family for himself, gotten close to the people living out life-sentences and wished the shorter ones on their merry way.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of sway in this place,” you commented, not mischievous but more surprised that the officers let him get so much power.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it sway, but… yeah, I guess I do.”

And then you asked the dreaded question. It had been on your mind since you’d first heard him whistling, but you kept it under wraps for the sake of conversation. Now, with a lull and suitable point, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, how’d you end up in solitary?”

The water level rose to the point that it felt like you were drowning, your mind fuzzing over with concern when Yancy dropped into utter stillness. Hell, you might’ve thought he’d keeled over dead with how quiet he was being, but you heard him rise off of his slab and walk around his cell. He was searching for an answer to your question, not that you could see, that wouldn’t bring him to tears. Without his group to help him through it, he didn’t want to break down, and in front of a newbie, no less.

Regret fogging your thoughts, you jumped to say, “Y-ya don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

The pacing stopped and those chains that held up his bed clinked against the wall. “Nah, it’s fine—” You feared he was lying, and, by the crack in his voice, you were probably correct, “—I, uh, helped some people escape, and the Warden found out ‘bout it, chucked me in here and probl’y threw away the key.” He tried to joke about it, to bring back the light atmosphere, but it didn’t work. The corners of your mouth deepened, and you instinctively pushed your back against the wall, as if being closer would give him some kind of comfort.

Yancy only felt the frigid embrace of the stone, though. The happiness leaked out of his voice, leaving only the numbed, plain words to give you context. “It was these two newbies, got caught trynna hijack a helicopter after stealing some box. Never found out what it was all about, but I took it from the Warden’s office and helped ‘em get out through the sewer.” He could feel the tears building up in his throat. “They said they’d visit me, but they haven’t yet.” Bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to keep it tight, he tried to block out the sting in his chest from the first visitation day that had rolled around. When he had woken up bright and early, made himself all neat for them to come through the doors, but, well, he remembered how it went.

“Damn,” was all that you muttered. You weren’t equipped to deal with this kind of situation, especially since all that you were able to offer were kind words and a soft tone. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Hey, ain’t that just life, though?” he muttered. Trying to convince himself of that fact was harder than saying it but pretending like he truly believed it was easiest. Ignoring the problem came second, so Yancy whispered something about getting a good night’s rest and rolled onto his side on his slab. It wasn’t comfortable, and he quickly began to miss the comforting stiffness of his cot.

You, however, would remain awake for the next hour or so, contemplating how you had gotten to this point. You wouldn’t call it rock-bottom, but it was definitely deeper than you were comfortable with. The agency you worked for gave you five strikes in the slammer before they left you to rot, and this was lucky number six for you. Spite tapped at your mind; those suits in upper management hadn’t seen a hard day’s work in their life, and they had the gall to blame you for your imprisonment after a job they ordered you do! Grinding your teeth together, you imagined their faces, prime and ready for a beating, when you got out – in ten to twelve years.

They should have been hoping you’d mellow out over time. Not likely, given your history, but it was their fault for keeping you there.

Although vastly unsupported by the prison’s psychologist, you and Yancy both fell asleep with troubled thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, you woke up with an aching back and growling stomach. Getting processed early in the day was a bad move, since it meant you’d miss both of the meals offered in the prison. You regretted getting caught at all, but fate could have been a bit kinder with the times. It was a good thing, then, that only half an hour or so after you’d regained thought, a tray of bland-looking food was shoved underneath your door. The metal slat closed behind it, leaving you the mismatched leftovers of the other prisoners’ breakfast.

The apple had rolled onto the stained floor and the dent containing what might have been porridge did not have any utensils. The milk looked alright, though, so you juggled it into your hands and leaned back on the wall. It reminded you of those movies you’d watched as a kid, the middle-school ones that you’d only ever seen a carton of milk in. You would have laughed at your first encounter being in a prison, but you were interrupted by Yancy.

“Morning.” He sounded almost unsure, as if he were afraid of getting nothing but silence back. Momentarily, he was proven correct when you were stunned by the ineffectual bout of morning voice the guy had. All of your limbs ceased movement, your eyes went wide, and you had to take a second to come to your senses. Suddenly, you were thankful for the wall separating the two of you.

Coughing lightly, you called back, “Morning to you, too.”

A grimace overcame your mouth when you realized that the carton was now completely dry, and you threw it to a corner of your cell. It landed with a muted thump into a pit of mold growing there. Your grimace deepened.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked. You assumed not great, but the silence was worse than an awkward conversation.

Yancy grunted, barely audible through the bricks, and then spoke, “’Bout as good as I do normally in here.”

“You’ve been in solitary before?”

“Ya sound surprised.” The small chuckle was appreciated, and you found yourself smiling alongside him.

“Yeah, I guess,” you responded, “you just give off this golden-retriever persona.”

Yancy was almost shocked. He hadn’t thought about how he came off to strangers, but that was mainly because he hadn’t interacted with one for years. Well, except…

He shook his head, manually removing the thoughts from his brain like cleaning out a junk drawer. “Is that a compliment?” It didn’t work, and, although he continued the conversation, his mind was far from it.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been here long enough to gauge the people here. Hence, asking you about your friends.”

That made sense, and you could have moved onto a different topic entirely, but Yancy kept being dragged back to the escapees. Despite only having known of you for a day, he liked talking to you. It kept his mind off of being in solitary, and he wanted to get one more thing off of his chest to rest his weary heart.

“D’ya wanna leave?”

It came out faster and clumsily blunter than he would’ve wanted, but it got the point across. If you said that you did, then he could just cut all contact and go quiet; he didn’t want to get attached to someone he was going to lose, though the worry that he already had definitely tapped at the edge of his mind.

You leaned back against the wall, further into the bricks as if you were able to phase through them with enough focus. You remained in the cell, where Yancy was still waiting for an answer. Did you want to leave? Well, of course, you did, there wasn’t anything better here than there was on the outside, and escaping wasn’t that hard of a feat given the shamefully low security.

But, then again, was there anything waiting for you back home? Prison meant keeping you trapped in one place, but the agency you worked for already did that. You were stuck in this city until they signed sixty forms to send you somewhere else, upon which you’d commit a crime, probably get arrested again, and then shoved in another cell again! It was a worse loss for them than it was for you, and, here, you had been having some nice conversation. Nice enough to stay for a little while, anyway, and, who knows, maybe you’ll be convinced to wait out your sentence for once.

Sighing, somewhat relieved that you had made the decision to stay, you replied, “Nah.”

And if you were relieved, Yancy was ecstatic. He resisted getting up and doing some kind of frenzied tap-dance out of excitement, and, instead, stayed rooted to his slab. He didn’t know exactly why he was so happy, but he was, and he was fine with that. He would deal with those unknown feelings later, when he had Sparkles and Bam-Bam and Tiny to help him through. Maybe you’d join them, and he could introduce you to everyone and—

He was getting ahead of himself. In the confines in his room, it didn’t matter that he blushed a deep crimson or that he had to bite his lip to keep his grin from spreading any further. He busied himself with scrambling to the floor and dragging his finger along the soot-covered bricks.

“You alright there, Yancy?”

You received no answer, save for the scraping and tapping that had made you curious in the first place. You watched where the sounds were coming from until they focused on one place in particular. Tap, tap, tap. They slowly became more forceful, a few seconds worth of securing one point on a brick, and then the thing was punched out altogether. The chipped rectangle tumbled into the wall opposite, revealing a tanned hand in its place.

It waved.

A laugh broke out of you, to the point where you nearly fell off your bed altogether. “How’d you figure that out?” you asked, in awe of the guy.

“One of the first times I was in here, I brought contraband with me, so I needed a place ta’ keep it while they did searches,” Yancy answered, “Nobody was ever in youse’s cell, so I shoved all my stuff in there.”

“Smart.”

He practically started glowing at that compliment, as if a switch had been flipped in his head. His smile slightly dipped, though, when he saw your abandoned tray on the ground in front of the hole.

“Ya not eating?”

You shrugged. “Not too into stuff that can’t decide whether it’s a solid or liquid. Plus, I’m not gonna use my hands to eat gruel.”

“Oh, the guards do that to newbies – somein’ like hazing, but it ain’t good for youse’s health.”

“So, frat hazing?”

Your comment went unanswered as Yancy slid back on his stomach to prop himself upright. It was only a couple seconds before another object came rolling through the gap. It bumped against the wall, knocking off some dust, but looked fine, otherwise. You picked it up.

“You sure?” you questioned tentatively, inspecting the rose-red apple.

“Youse gots to eat something, right?”

This time, it was you who blushed as deep as a sea trench. You weren’t sure whether it was his nature, or you were a special case, or you were just the only option, but Yancy was being nice to you. Genuinely sweet, and it was a weird experience for you. You barely knew anything about him, held one conversation with him, and yet you thought he was the best part of this prison. It wasn’t a high bar, but it was something, and you could feel yourself growing more and more fond of him as the seconds ticked on.

But that didn’t mean you would go without clarification.

Now resting on the floor, which didn’t feel as bad as you had presumed, you guided your tray into Yancy’s cell. There was a pleasant gasp exchanged for it, while you pointed out, “We just met.”

Another more confused noise was sent your way.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Talking to me, telling me about you, all that stuff. Why?”

Yancy knew this could go one of two ways; he could lie and say that he just liked your attitude, maybe that he didn’t want this awkward silence between you – or he could tell you the truth. The cold, hard, honest truth.

His shoulders dropped and the lights in his eyes dimmed as he realized that his fears were not mistaken.

“Guess I just got attached.”

You stopped short of responding for the better half of the next minute. While that may have seemed infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, it mattered to you, and it mattered to Yancy. You were given some time to consider the facts, apply the idea to his actions, while Yancy got scared. His fears surrounded him in the cold cell, and he wondered if he had blown his chances barely a day into knowing you. He tried to assure himself that it wouldn’t matter if you went completely silent, but both that and the bigger part of him knew that was a lie.

Going quiet when given a fact was a bad habit of yours, something that the prison boy would have to get used to if you were to stay talking. It happened a lot and normally didn’t mean anything bad at all, so he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when you answered back, “That makes sense.”

This time, Yancy was only confused. “Whad’ya mean?”

“Well—” you shuffled back against the wall again. You noticed it was a very cramped room, “—you told me about those people you helped escape. You must’ve cared about them if you risked getting solitary for them, and they haven’t come back. That’s gotta be rough on you.”

You weren’t a therapist by any means, but you’d sat in a psychology lecture back when you were in college. That, and it was pretty obvious what was going on.

“Yancy, you have abandonment issues.”

His head hit the bricks. His one visit with the prison’s psychologist had told him that much, but he’d never taken it to heart. Everyone had something wrong with them! His was just… more intense than other people’s. Or, he used to think that, but getting so attached to someone he had just met made it only more clear to him.

Not hearing a response, and unable to hear the thoughts slowly settling in Yancy’s mind, you prompted, “We can talk about it, if you want?”

“Yeah- yeah, I’d like that.”

The hours passed slowly, but they were full to the brim of venting, comforting and a few jokes sprinkled in here and there. It was a period of no holds barred, and everything was let out like opening a dam. The water swept up whatever was there already, the preconceived notions, the awkwardness, the discontentment – and it left behind warmth. Arguments were avoided and topic were reassessed. By the end of the second day in solitary, Yancy could confidently say that a lot of his issues were worked thoroughly. He would only phrase it like that because that was what you likened it to: if you don’t work dough, the bread that comes out will be floppy and weak, but if you knead it all equally, it’ll be able to hold its shape on its own.

He liked that analogy, he liked most of what you said, but a particularly touchy subject came up while you both talked over your dinner.

Yancy was almost knocked off of his feet when the words left your mouth, and he had to take a second to centre himself. After all, he wasn’t feeling overly emotional, and this certain thing only came out when he was overwhelmed. Whether it was anger or sadness, he was exclusive to the bad times.

“We don’t have to talk about him right now, but parents are normally behind a lot of issues,” you offered, facing the hole in the wall. Your tray of food had been discarded when you realized you still didn’t have any utensils. Of course, Yancy was kind enough to trade with you again, leaving you with three apple cores in the corner of your room.

He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.

“So, it’s normal, then?” His vision was downcast, a stark change in tone showing hope and doubt.

You shrugged slightly. “Normally doesn’t end with murder, but yeah.”

Yancy sighed, breathed in, and continued to exchange breaths until he felt he was ready. When he had fully quietened, he whispered just barely loud enough to hear, “I’m ready.”

“Then start from the beginning.”

Yancy’s upbringing could be described, as many others could, as rough. The only problem with that would be it wouldn’t do it justice on its own. Add in depressing, dramatic and downright traumatic, and you would get a better picture. To CPS, this was not what they saw; an employee once ended up at their front door, and what they saw was something entirely different. Baked cookies cooling on the table, washed clothes hanging on the line outside and smiling faces everywhere you looked. It was a front designed perfectly for that person to not report anything but joy back to the top.

But on days when visits were not scheduled, it was a nightmare. Yancy was born an only child, but to scrape up extra cash, his parents gathered a gaggle of children to babysit on weekdays. Tom was his favorite, Jane was adorable, and a pair of twins who lived a block down were trouble. It was all fine, except none of them got more attention than a pleading smile from Yancy’s mother, and a venomous, snide look from the man of the house.

His father hated kids. God knows why he had one of his own in the first place, and not even he knew why he stuck around. They would have been better off without him, Yancy would have been better off without him. He wouldn’t have been spending his early mornings biking down alleyways and trading bricks for cash. It was no secret that Yancy’s father was the town’s dealer, half of them were too scared to report him and the other half were his clients. The time he should have been spending learning the Pythagoras theorem or what a noun was, he was busy evading the cops’ daily routes and dishing out little, transparent baggies. His grammar never got better, that’s for sure, and, on one sunny Thursday afternoon, he ended up a couple streets away from Brooklyn.

And when he returned home with a new accent and interesting dialect, home-life went from a nightmare to pure hell.

He could remember that day like it was yesterday, as clear in his mind as the last shower he took. Shame it wasn’t as warm, or as comforting or homely. It was the complete opposite, in fact, because that was the day that everything twisted.

Freshly sixteen at the time, Yancy wandered through the overgrown grass, followed the stone path like the back of his hand. The rocks were cracked in two from being picked up and thrown, and dirt was visible around each piece. The front door creaked when he pushed against it, not even fully closer, and paint chips rained down on his shoes. It wasn’t a nice house, but it was one of the bigger ones that could fit as many people as they wanted it to. He couldn’t say it was in good condition, though.

Jane was quick to race up to him the second he stepped inside. He was flooded with cold, but her little smile sure made up for it. She was so excited to show him her schoolwork. The crayon drawing surely a picture for the fridge – he wondered how she ended up here.

There was some yelling from upstairs, but he ignored it in favor of heading to the kitchen. He knew his father would be in there, counting bills or sorting out pills. He had been such a scumbag, doing the same thing no matter who was around.

Keeping as quiet as possible, Yancy tried to be subtle in opening the cupboard. A cough from his left. It hadn’t worked, and even though he was sure the man despised every breath he took, he liked keeping tabs on the people around him.

“Did everything go well today?”

Really, he should’ve just said yes, and left it at that. He should’ve been in and out of the room like a flash. He should’ve been quiet.

But he was tired of being quiet. This guy that lived in the same house as him had no power over him. He had his bike, he could leave whenever he wanted, and his mother? Those times together, when it was just the two of them, were times he would treasure until the end of his life, but they were too few and too far between. His father shadowed every little interaction, as if a single word misplaced would mean the gallows. The one important thing that his father taught him was that consequences only mattered if you had a plan to get far.

So, he opened his mouth and replied, “Nah, dad, and I’d think youse’d know that.”

A strange accent, especially coming from someone you barely conversed with, should not have been that hard-hitting, but it set something off in the man. The bag of whatever-the-hell drug he was pushing now slammed to the table and bootsteps replaced the distant hum of a faulty boiler.

“What’d you say to me, boy?”

Yancy wasn’t a tall 16-year-old, but he made up for it with confidence, real or not. He broadened his shoulders and stuck out his chin.

“Youse heard me.”

“Youse? Where’d that come from?”

His tone was annoyingly plain, his words not worth staining with anything but deadpan. Yancy wasn’t worth it, apparently, and it only worked to fuel his anger.

“Don’t talk like that,” he ordered, “We’re from Ohio.”

In a fit of something more than rage, Yancy pushed against his chest and sent himself stumbling backwards. “Youse is from Ohio! We ain’t a family!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me.”

This would have been a good time to calm down, but he was on a roll with no sign of stopping. “I’ll do whatever I want! You don’t got nothin’ over me.”

Yancy twisted on his heel, ready to storm out to his bike and never come back into that hellhole, but a rough hand on his shoulder rooted his feet into the ground.

“Look,” he huffed, “I didn’t send you to school for you to end up speaking like this—”

If Yancy’s blood wasn’t boiling by now, then that surely did it. “Youse didn’t send me to school at all!” he yelled, tears billowing into his eyes, “I ain’t been to school in years, and youse’d know if you paid any goddamn attention to your kid, but youse don’t, so I ain’t gonna pay any attention to youse.”

The man’s tone shifted from enraged to a chilling calmness. He spoke as if he were explaining the alphabet to a child, “And why do you think I don’t pay any attention to you?”

He spluttered for an answer, eventually landing on a shaky, “Th-this ain’t a therapy session, youse just don’t like me.”

Now, he seemed almost shocked, and Yancy was almost going to punch him in the gut. “And why would you think I didn’t like you?”

“’Cause you—” His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was trying to find an answer to this question, but even though it had years of evidence building up, nothing concrete came to mind, “— ‘cause you don’t! Don’t try to trick me, I know what you’re doing!”

“See,” a smile broke out onto his face, “there you go, back to normal.”

And, with that cheerful proclamation, he began to stalk back to his seat, where mismatched pills and baggies lay. Yancy felt his own feet move before he had the conscious thought to.

“Not back to normal!” he shouted back, a painful voice crack diminishing his confidence.

It was then that his mother peaked her head through the doorway, toting a frowning Tom behind her. Her clothes were torn in places, and a subtle, red splatter marred the bottom of her skirt. Yancy would have been concerned about this new feature if his mind weren’t clouded by anger towards the guy who made it happen.

Nevertheless, she asked meekly, “Is everything alright in here?”

His father was fast to answer, “Yes, everything is fine.”

Yancy wasn’t having it and, instead, jumped to cover up, “No, it’s not, dad—”

Like a sibling reprimanding the tattletale, the fully-grown man rolled his eyes and hissed, “Oh, be quiet for once in your life, Yancy.”

The lady was on the verge of saying his name, just a small word to get him to calm down, but he saw right through her and snapped, “Back off, woman.”

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!”

In the corner of his eye, Yancy saw Tom slowly creep back to the staircase. His mother was too shocked to stop him, and his father, oh, his father tilted his head to look back to his only son. The careless smirk he once sported dropped into a vile scowl.

“So, you’re the man of the house, now, eh?” he mocked.

His skin turned cold, and shivers threatened to move him like an earthquake. Still, he replied, “Damn right I am, youse ain’t good enough.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” came another reprimand. Thinking back on it, he wasn’t sure if it was his dad or mum, but he was sure that it happened, and it pissed him off.

“Youse ain’t—”

Two hands secured tightly on his shoulders held him in place. Any thoughts of running or even taking a step back were banished from his mind. Out of fear of inability, he wasn’t sure, but he was forced to listen as his father ordered, “Either you stop that dumbass dialect of yours, or you can get out.”

His face got so close that he could see the wrinkles and off-set tan lines that ran laps around his eyes. The malicious glint the brown contained, the worst-kept secret of his family. His father was the devil himself, and he was sure that if he wanted to do anything to help them, he’d have to figure out what God did to get him out of heaven.

“So, what’s it gonna be, huh, son?”

Just six hours later, Yancy got out alright – it just wasn’t in the way his father had expected.

Blood on his hands, dripping a candy-trail for the four other children towards the police van, Yancy was barely conscious of him sitting down inside. He didn’t notice the revving of the engine, the moving of the scenery, the pat-down, the induction, any of it. It all passed in a blur, but he knew one thing for sure.

He didn’t want to be free – ever again.

You sat wide-eyed against the wall. You had expected a simple fight, teenage rebellion, and a bad attitude to the law. Yancy’s story was not that, in fact, but it, surprisingly, made more sense. Yancy was kind and generous and he understood the value of good relationships. That normally only happened after something bad.

And that was definitely something bad.

A sigh escaped your lungs as you processed the new information. It didn’t hurt any pre-conceived notions, it added to the ones you had been working on, actually. The whole abandonment thing, the protective golden retriever persona, it all made sense even with this new development.

A few moments after his final words, you nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Now that everything had settled, you were fine with it. It wasn’t surprising, considering where you were – the solitary wing of a penitentiary – and you actually commended Yancy for getting busted for something he believed in. It was a lot better than you; you were just doing your job for some capitalist pig.

Yancy was more shocked than you were. You had accepted this side of him faster than anyone had before. Maybe that was just your personality – or maybe you were in denial. Right now, though, he didn’t care, and that was a great feeling.

“So, do you want to start with the kids?” you asked, stretching out your back after so long lost in his story.

Confusion struck him faster than his consciousness could keep up with. Why would you want to talk about them? Then, of course, he remembered why he had told you about his whole deal in the first place, and a blush crept like a snake up his neck.

He laughed awkwardly, “Yeah.” And he was more than happy to talk about his little group of troublemakers.

Speaking of which, his current group of troublemakers had been rioting outside of the warden’s office for the past two days. They still adhered to their schedule, going to their cells before lights out and eating when told to, but you best believe that every other minute was spent blocking Mr. Murder-Slaughter’s door. That was, in total, an hour and six minutes per day, but that was enough to get on his nerves.

Coming back to the prison after a night out with his family, he was both amazed and annoyed to find Yancy’s clique sitting with make-shift signs, blocking his way back to his room. He pinched the bridge of his nose, heaved the largest huff he could muster and gathered all of the officers in the penitentiary.

When everyone was all in one place, he called out, “Does anyone know what is going on with our prisoners?”

Nobody answered for a second, but soon, a young newbie was shoved into the pit in front of the Warden.

“W-well, they’re protesting… sir.”

“Protesting what?”

“That guy, their friend, they don’t like that he’s in solitary.”

He had expected them to be mad, but he didn’t think it’d get to this point – but, that begged the question, why were they still there!?

“And why is no one doing anything about it?”

More silence, until the first guy took it upon himself to just be the spokesperson in general. Lightly, he coughed into his hand and answered, “They’re not doing anything wrong. They have a right to be there.”

The Warden looked dumbly at the kid. He was barely over 20, it was a wonder as to how he landed this job, but he had, and he also had the unfortunate job of breaking any news to the boss there. Murder-Slaughter pitied him.

“You’re guards, for Christ’s sake, you have weapons!”

“Y-yeah, but it’s… it’s illegal, sir.” He was getting more confidence the more they talked, and he was even beginning to be backed up by his colleagues. A few prisoners looked around the corner and went to tell Yancy’s group of the events.

“Who cares?”

“The law, and we do, too, sir.”

He spluttered, spit out some half-assed remark about their power – the kid retaliated with morality, he hissed another order, he battled it back, and this whole circle went on for another ten minutes before the Warden had reached his limit.

“I don’t care what you do, just get them away from my door!”

He stormed away, to who knows where because his office was inaccessible, but that left the officers with all the power to do whatever they wanted.

And, surprisingly, that fully aligned with the rules, because rhythmic steps broke through the faint chatter of solitary. A distant drip of water had the newbie grimacing, but he made his way down the hallway, nonetheless, swinging a chain of keys all the while. It was only when he came to an occupied cell did he stop.

“Hey?” he called out awkwardly.

Equally as awkward, Yancy yelled back, “Hey…?”

“Your friends have, um, mutinied, I guess?”

If you were able to see each other, you and Yancy would have shared a confused but entertained look.

“So?” Yancy asked.

“You’re free to leave.”

The metal door swung into the brick wall, luckily covering up the hole, and prompting the prisoner to stand up. His back cracked from how long he had spent on the floor, and, although this clearly meant he was able to go back to the comfort of his own cell, it was overshadowed by a guilty, sad feeling. Had he gotten used to the confinement? It’d barely been a week, and he hadn’t succumbed to it that easily before, so it was unlikely. Then, it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten used to you. The person who got him through a lot of his problems and comforted him, even though they had seen little more than a tattooed hand. His cell mate.

A near attempt to call out to you was shut down by a pair of cold, calculated cuffs snapping against his wrists. He had nearly forgotten this was a prison, and he was considered dangerous. Your reaction had made that strange reality to him.

Back through the rooms, back through the corridors, back through, back, back, back – further away from you. He began to feel guilty, disappointed; he missed you already, and he noticed that his attachment issues hadn’t been solved just quite yet. He frowned.

His cell wasn’t as comforting as when he had left it. The bed was comfortable, it flattened under his weight, and yet, the material was mocking him. He drew his legs to his chest and stared at the wall across from him. It was concrete. It was sturdy and complete.

His eyes and heart fell.

It took Yancy a week to feel better. His friends, when he had approached them that evening for dinner, were welcoming and helpful. They cheered and talked and joked just as they had before he had gone into solitary. Sparkles threw mashed potatoes at Tiny, Bam-Bam fought back with churned milk – but nothing was the same for Yancy. It didn’t bring him the same joy to see his friends as it had before. He couldn’t resist the thought that something was missing, and he knew exactly what that something was. He was almost ashamed to admit that he missed you after barely a day of talking to you, but he reminded himself of what you’d said to him. He didn’t have to be ashamed, so he wasn’t. It was his decision.

That didn’t stop him from missing you in the first place, though.

And all throughout the next seven days, going through the schedule, he thought about what he’d show to you when you got out. Maybe the exercise equipment, or the food that you’d actually get utensils with, or his cell! You’d probably appreciate a good place to sleep for a while, you weren’t exactly likely to get much sleep on a concrete slab.

With those ideas in mind, he started to get excited for your release. Sitting on the table with his friends, he glanced around. They had been given the general idea of who you were, but your physical appearance was something he couldn’t pinpoint, and he kept some of the topics of conversation close to the chest. He’d blush furiously when they talked about it, and even more so when it turned into teasing. Stuff about his getting a crush, like a schoolboy, made him grow redder and redder, to the point he wasn’t sure if his blood was on the inside or out.

All of that was nothing compared to when you emerged, handcuffed, and dressed in the prison garb, from the solitary wing.

He might’ve passed out had he not been sitting on the table, but he couldn’t help his eyes swimming along your figure. He had expected gorgeousness but Jesus… Now, for completely new reasons, his feet moved quicker than his brain, and Yancy gripped your hand – rough, calloused, amazing – and tugged you into any random hallway. Lucky for him, the guards seemed to understand what was happening and didn’t follow.

He found it difficult to communicate his feelings at first. His mouth widened and shut, his eyes squinted and then dilated again. He was confused and shocked and excited all at once.

Finally, he sighed and whispered, “Hey.”

You smiled back. “Hey.”

He was so giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He had half the mind to pick you up and twirl you around – it was such an unfamiliar feeling that he actually got as far as securing his hands on your waist before he realized what he was doing. However, they stayed planted when you wrapped your own around his back.

“Hey, Yancy,” you muttered.

He was freaking out. He hadn’t learned what to do in this kind of situation, let alone talking face to face with you! If you could even call what you were doing ‘talking’, it was like you were doing tap dance around acting normally. Did he hate it or love it, he had no clue, but he knew that it was happening.

And, at that rate, only one thing could stop it.

Yancy had always been bad with relationships, dating and any kind of personal rapport, so you can only imagine how bad he is with kissing.

Fireworks overloaded his mind, clearing out fog and replacing it with bright lights and flashing bulbs and his own heartbeat in his ears. Your lips felt exactly how they looked, tasted like the apple you had probably just eaten for dinner. He wondered, briefly, if they had given you utensils this time, but it was overcome by you pushing further into his lips. Your hands darted against his spine, and he squeezed his own out of instinct.

The air you breathed mingled in one space when you leaned back just an inch. It was far enough that you could speak, but you weren’t given the chance to as Yancy connected your lips once more. After spending practically all of his life without this kind of thing, there was no way in hell that he would let you go so easily.

“Yancy, chill out,” you chuckled, securing him further away. It wasn’t even a full ten inches, but it worked to get him to pay attention to you.

“Sorry,” he whispered, slowly edging forward, “youse just too sweet.”

Your smile widened.

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait a bit, you’ve gotta introduce me to your friends, first.”

A determined look fell over Yancy’s face, a curtain drawing to a close the romantic gestures, and bringing you by the hand towards his table.

Now, looking out over Happy Trails Penitentiary, you were certain that, fuck those suits, you never wanted to be free.

#iswm yancy #yancy the prisoner #yancy #markiplier egos #a heist with markiplier #writing #markiplier #markiplier egos x reader #yancy x reader #trauma #x reader #fanficiton #the knight market #no editing #we die like real men #fanfiction #one shots

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peejsocks · 2 years

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bam rq!! (smut 👉👈)

i came across these and i think they go well together

bam - “i am not driving home with you, are you crazy”

reader - “fine, continue to act like you hate me”

a/n: bammy brain rot all day! since you didn’t specify pronouns i made it female reader and i know to some that doesn’t make sense but i just struggle with gn smut, i hope it’s okay! and thank you for requesting <3

ps: i’ve been finding the fan base pretty dead so if you read this, feedback is much appreciated :)

disclaimers/tags: nsfw. nsfk. minors dni. general don’t be stupid advice.

Like many in the town of West Chester, you knew Bam Margera. Like some, you were currently not on his list of favorite people.

As fate would have it, you were now trying to convince him to get in your car as you fled a party doomed by police sirens approaching.

Since your break-up, the two of you had been at the same parties a couple of times. Inevitable when you have friend groups that intersect. Usually, someone told you he was there in hopes of stirring some drama and exploiting the CKY guys for some lame irrelevant news.

A couple of girls who pretended to be your friend during your brief fling with the famous kid even came up to you to say Bam had come onto them, falsely offended. "I would never! Unless, you were okay with it...?"

A shrug and a swig was enough answer for them.

Whether or not he was actually making out with all of your so-called friends was not a question you looked for the answer.

Fights broke out at crowded houses constantly. A few guys were infamous for starting them, and only stopping when cops pull them off of an unconscious body. You were let in on this when you were with Bam. If one of these dudes were spotted in a brawl, everyone should meet at whoever's car was closest and get the hell out of there.

Most of you were still twenty. It was not worth getting caught underage drinking over some dickhead seeking attention.

Tonight, the neighbours weren't fucking around and called the cops as soons as the first chanting of "fight!" was yelled out. Now half the party is swarming the streets trying to figure out where to go.

That's when you catch Bam standing unfamiliarly alone on the pavement and yelling at his phone.

"I can't go that way! How did you even get past them? Turn the fuck back and come get me."

Seeing red and blue lights flicker in the distance, without much thought, your hand wraps around his and pulls his body forward. For now, the warm electric shock that bolts through you just from the small contact of his skin with yours will be ignored.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

"Kidnapping you. Isn't it obvious? Get in, we have to go."

Stubborn as always, his hand pulls away from your grip in defiance. Quickly, you're getting annoyed.

"I'm on the phone."

He looks so much like a child saying this, eyes angry and resenting. Like he knows he has no good arguments, playing dumb to spite you will have to do.

"Do you want to finish your conversation from the inside of my car on the way home or when they give you your one phone call in jail?"

"I'm not driving home with you, are you crazy?"

Huffing, you turn your back to him and walk around to the drivers side, unlocking the door. His phone is hanging loosely beside his ear, but the grip of his fingers seems strong. He is staring at you, hesitant but considering.

"Fine, continue to act like you hate me. After I give you a ride. But in the meantime, can you give yourself a break and think rationally? You know, so you don't get busted?"

Seconds feel like minutes before he mumbles to whoever has not hung up on him yet that he'll meet them at his place.

As soons as Bam opens the passenger door, you're climbing in and speeding out of there.

You smirk when he clings to the ceiling handle and fumbles with the seatbelt.

"I don't think this piece of shit can handle your driving."

"I think you're managing just fine." Extending the joke, you change gears rapidly and the tires screech, running a yellow light. He glares your way. "Performs better than your overpriced Ferrari."

Defeated blue eyes averted ahead give away hurt feelings. "It's the streets in this town's fault, they're not made for supercars."

You laugh at his posture. "Sure."

For the next few minutes you are both sitting in surprising comfortable silence, until Bam spots a 24-hour grocery store.

"Oh, stop here. I need to get some stuff."

A glimpse of his rings when he points at the neon sign almost makes you choke, feeling trapped inside a slow motion sequence as your eyes trail up his neck. Snap out of it.

"I'm not your fucking driver, fuck off."

"You fucking volunteered to drive me home, don't be a bitch. C'mon, I'll be quick."

It was a mistake to look into his big doey eyes, but you did it anyway, aware of the outcome.

Ineffective but self-serving, you park the furthest from the store so he has to walk the distance. Away from any other cars, lamp posts or people. As you're waiting, you turn on the radio.

However long he was gone was the time you spent trying to convince yourself you didn't miss his smell. Or his voice, his smile, his tattoos. His rough hands bruising your hips.

The light inside turning on when the door opens again brings you back to reality.

The tips of your fingers massage your forehead, stressed when you can't help but stare at his spread legs when Bam takes his seat next to you, bulge just noticeable enough.

He rattles the plastic bag, taking out a small packet of Twizzlers and handing it to you.

"As a thank you. I got you a water bottle too."

Smiling cautiously, you avoid his gaze, taking the water first and gulping it down. Maybe it was a hotter night than you noticed.

As you're ripping open the candy, a Deftones song comes on. Immediately, the two of you look at each other, red sugary tube in between your teeth.

Bam laughs first, looking away and bringing his fingers to his lips, shy. It's contagious enough that you copy him, eyebrows shooting up.

"What are the chances?"

For the two months you were together, Bam hated your appreciation of the band. As an experiment, you tried having sex to their discography a couple of times. It never turned him off, but it's unclear whether it ever turned him on more.

"Did it ever work?"

"What, like, do I have an urgency to fuck something whenever I hear that fucking rythmic guitar? No, not really." His head turns to you, eyes widening with something not entirely negative. "But I do think of you when it comes on. So, I guess it worked in that sense, I don't know."

You meet his shrug with a bitter apology. "Sorry about that. At least you have an unpretentious reason to never listen to them again."

"Yeah." A small chuckle. The skin around his eyes creases when he squints. "Or to give them another chance. Been doing it a lot, actually."

With a pause, you ask him something you might come to regret later. "Did you change your mind?"

His answer comes in the movement of ring-clad fingers rolling the volume button up.

The louder vibrations don't help the fast beating of your heart when Bam drops the bag of alcohol under the seat, calmly turning his body your way and placing a hand on your bare leg.

He doesn't meet your eyes, focused on tracing your skin lightly with his thumb.

It's so small but the rush of his touch, which you have missed terribly, is such that the back of your neck is hot and you feel like puking.

"I thought you hated me."

Those were, to be fair, his last words to you.

Sure, it was said in the middle of a drunken fight over jealousy, but he never called to take it back. A month went by with no contact, seeing each other at parties and pretending to be strangers.

Being this close to him, alone, was bittersweet.

It was a clash of the memories of your last moment together with the excitement of being touched by him again. The potential of being his again.

"I do." Your eyes shoot up at his admittance, betrayed and on edge. "I hate that you left. I hate that you didn't come back the next day yelling and breaking shit at my house. I hate that you never said you hated me back. You just left me."

His hand is still on you, light, testing. It burns, but you don't dare move it, afraid the absence would hurt far more.

"I didn't know you wanted me to do that. But what did you expect, Bam? You yelled it to my face. I gave you time to apologize, but you never did."

"I'm sorry." Blue eyes finally meet yours. And to your horror, they feel genuine in their longing. "I'm sorry I got mad over something stupid, and yelled and said dumb shit I didn't mean. You didn't deserve that."

There's no air in your lungs. You feel like sinking into the car seat. "You're putting me in a very difficult position here, you know?"

The blink of his eyes is slow, and you want to believe it's his way of showing vulnerability.

"Did you miss me?"

The presence on your leg moves and scorches its way. With gritted teeth, you breathe out. Try to, anyway.

“Do you miss how I touch you? My fingers in you? Riding me?"

Your chin is pointed down, following his movement closely and imagining the reward you'd get for being truthful.

His hand wraps around your thigh, thumb pressing on the excessive skin and turning it red. Your skirt is rising and you lick your lips, probably not as discreetly as you planned.

"Because I miss all of it. I want to grab around your throat as I pound into you, and you cry, so beautiful. I want to hear you moan my name again. I need to, because in my dreams that's when you go quiet. It kills me every time I wake up sweating and hard, thinking of your pretty lips trembling."

"Bam." You whisper and his hand freezes in place. Looking into his eyes, you confess. "I'm scared you're gonna hurt me again."

His free hand comes up to your cheek, and you shiver when cold metal meets your burning skin. "I know better now. Let me show you I can treat you right."

The deep bass still playing in the background registers in your brain, and you are hit with flashbacks to so many good moments with the man holding you.

With his shirt balled into your fist, you meet his lips.

It's just that for a few seconds, lips touching, reminiscing on each other. Until his hand squeezes the inside of your thigh and it triggers your muscle memory, moving to take more of his mouth.

Bam has always, and continues to be, the best kisser you have ever had. He leads slow and patient, but loves when you take initiative, matching your pace perfectly.

If this were any other guy you weren't familiar with on a first date, you might spend more time enjoying a nice kiss. But it isn't, your head is pounding and your insides are pulsing.

To get what you want, you push Bam back and move to straddle him, hand never leaving the nape of his neck.

You take a second to look down at him, briefly submissive and needy, eyes glossy as he waits for you to go back to him just as he had been dreaming of.

You let him grab you by the waist and guide you to sit on his lap in the passenger seat of your car, something you had done many times before in his.

Back to making out, you start with wet lips on his neck, then jaw, the sharp ends of his smile that you love so much. Your tongue pokes out and he sucks on it without questioning.

Suddenly, you hear a loud crack and the backrest moves. Not all the way, but enough that you jump back to the driver’s side. Honestly, you can't afford to fix a broken seat, or explain how it broke.

Out of air, you're laughing when Bam turns his head back to you with a glint in his eyes. "I have an idea."

Leaping to the back, he extends a hand to you. He's breathless, flushed pale skin, his hair is out of place and there's a wicked smile on his face. It’s impossible not to mirror it.

You let him pull you onto his lap again.

Bam is quick, sneakily lifting your tank top and exposing your breasts to his busy lips. It was so hot that his spit around your nipples was alleviating, and you whimpered shamelessly, tugging on his dark hair.

Everything was overwhelming, so you don't put too much thought into it before grinding down on the hardness pushing against his black pants. As a response, Bam groans and bites your breast, definitely leaving teeth marks. The pain pulls the first whiny moan out of you tonight.

"I can see why you missed this."

You're teasing because you know where it gets you.

From his hunched position, Bam’s head shoots up, eyes bright in the dark of the deserted street. His tongue licks up the crevice in between your tits.

"You can pretend you didn't miss it too, but I won't believe you."

Smiling, you shoot back, feigning innocence. "Why not?"

"I'll show you."

Cold fingers reach your covered slit under your military green skirt and you suck in a breath. It's beyond your control at this point, and you rub against his hand just as you had done a few moments before on his dick.

Thinking of the swollen member and the fact that you could have it again, not just in your imagination, was thrilling. You feel him lightly press on your clit, and the begging begins.

"Bam, please." Your eyes are closed, but you know he is watching you. "Please, I know the rules, I'm begging."

His thumb teases along the fine line of your underwear. Teeth bite into your skin again. "Such a good girl. I would've done it even if you didn't follow. I really don't deserve you."

Bam's tongue is sucking on your neck when he slips under your panties, just two fingers running along your wet entrance.

Your grip on his locks grows stronger and you practically growl his name. He laughs, satisfied, but it's okay. His hard-on poking your thigh keeps you going.

"Can you pull my skirt up, please? I want you to see how wet I am." It's surprising even to you, that you said this. It's so earnest, when he hasn't earned it.

A glimpse of shock followed by adoration crosses the look he gives you, and so you decide he’ll make your sincerity worthwhile.

As you ordered, your skirt is pulled up to your waist, and Bam gets a good view of your lace white panties. Soaked.

You watch as he lays you down carefully, eyes stuck on your still covered cunt, and removes his shirt. You take in his chest moving up and down, a sign of his nerves, and search for the Heartagram tattoo that was a lot more gratifying than a simple happy trail.

Distracted, you barely feel Bam's teeth graze against your hips when he pulls your underwear down with them. It's hot enough to make you chuckle in disbelief, which earns you a look.

Nice Bam is off for now, because he's never been nice when eating you out. It's always fast, hungry and unrelenting. This time is no different.

He is lapping up your folds, tongue darting in and out as his thumb circles your nub. It's actually too much.

"Bam, I love you, but please. I can't take this. Just get your pants off, now."

You force him to look up by pulling on his hair, drool making his chin shine. He wipes it off with his hands. God, the tattoos and the rings.

He doesn't take his eyes off of you as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his cock free. It's better than you had been hoping, redder and dripping more than you had seen before.

You pull on his necklaces to beckon him on top of you. His dick is on top of your stomach, and you shiver.

Reaching down, you envelop his shaft and give soft slow pumps, feeling the tip of his head carefully. His jaw slacks, and brows furrow, a full moan coming out from pink lips.

Before you can continue, he stops your hand and takes a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm not gonna last through that."

"It's okay."

Bam readjust so he's aligned with your entrance. His face screams focus and anticipation, it's endearing.

You're actually scared of how this is going to feel.

When the tip brushes your clit, the both of you jump slightly, so you wrap your arms across his back to keep him close and encourage him to continue.

He pushes, agonizingly slow. And when he is finally inside, you can see stars.

It feels like everything around you is on fire.

"You okay?"

Nodding, you give him a reassuring smile and a pat on the back, which earns a laugh from him.

"Tell me if you need a break."

Pushing more, Bam is all the way in you. All the good memories rush back to you and you gasp, holding onto him tight.

"Baby, you feel so good. I missed this so bad." Your voice is strained.

You open your eyes to see Bam smiling, smug, pointy incisors standing out to you.

"I know you did.”

"Don't be scared to move, please, I can take it."

"Of course, princess."

So he moves, patiently sliding out halfway and then moving back in. He's being careful because you look like you're struggling, but it's just pent up need.

"Bam, what was I like in your dreams?"

He's still pumping slowly.

"You were wonderful, gorgeous."

"Yeah? I bet I can take more than her." He looks at you quizzically, but amused. "Try me."

Bam's hand closes around your neck. He moves back all the way to the head, just to mercilessly thrust into you until his balls hit your skin.

"That's it, go on."

He's carefully holding you in place so you can take him comfortably as he thrusts faster, his tempo getting more ragged.

You can feel the veins in his cock as you tighten around him, proud of how good he's giving it to you and you are taking it.

You adjust on the seat so he can move both hands to your hips and help you roll them in synch with his.

You're fucking each other as rough as possible, and maybe it's in your head but the windows in your car are fogging up.

Bam is so loud, you’re swallowing your own whimpers just so you can hear him moan freely.

Somehow, while you two are going at it, Bam finds a way to get close to your ear and whisper. "I love you too."

Shock runs through you as your words from moments ago hit you. Fuck, you didn't even know that you loved him. Hearing him say it back was ecstatic, and now he was hitting you right in that perfect spot.

"Bam, please, I'm close."

You're scratching his back when you orgasm, Bam spilling inside you right after.

He's not even moving anymore, and you're still riding your high. The weight of his body and the dark curls covering your eyes, his shoulders slumped against your chest. Of course you love him.

Your car is very tidy, so he uses his shirt to clean you up and you fake a gag, telling him you never want to see him wear it again.

Dressed, you're still laying on the seat. Bam is glowing in all his post sex glory, stomach muscles glistening with sweat. He pulls you roughly under his legs so he is the one straddling you now.

Giggling, under your own bliss, you try your best to fix your hair.

He's kissing your chest again, whispering. "Does this mean we're back together?"

"Do you want to be?”

“I have to say, I perform a lot better in your car than mine."

"I agree." You deadpan and he laughs. "You have to sell that stupid car, it's so cursed."

#jackass fanfic #bam margera x reader #debated whether or not to leave the pic in bc jokes

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rosey100 · 2 months

Text

Just thought I'd draw some roses 💐

Some Rose inspired by @kazzykatt 's aus

Wanted

Brair

🩶💣🐈‍⬛🌒

I closely based on Loona from Helluva Boss and Batgirl/Barbara but with a black market father who sold her and her parakeet for "a check up" and has never been adopted once growing up. By the time she runs away at 17, Bair survives whatever is needed to steal, sells scams, everything for money to even get some fries or a small place to stay till she makeshift a shed from an abandoned train. She adapted skills and knowledge to make it where if it were making distractions or trying not to get caught by anybody, whether they were a dog fighter or police she can a brothel paunch the light bulbs out of them easy and also has some special effects from the check up let just say no one can't make this up but nobody will believe it.

Her personality is mostly cold, and she can be a bit stubborn and harsh, but she is understanding, bold, outgoing, convincent, and sociable. She is a very smart (street smart) and calculated too. Brair mainly cut off, showing her emotions or physical even her weakness in life are off limits and her feelings are merely closed off to everyone who meets her but she might well threatening people if they give off her the wrong way.

Can things get more crazy for her life(the answer is yes) on her regular " business" routes to a factory to give someone "a simple pack", but things got too fresh with that and she had to go in the place to get the money she was going for leaving the client outside while going in with his lab coat. Managin to get caught by fixing her looks and going through the vents to get to the locker. After getting the money, she stumbled into an explosive sound of glass breaking and birds chirping? Not wanting to be nosey she kept walking towards the exit and go home but curiosity had other plans, peeping in the lab she started to see two dudes trashed the whole room beyond prepare and Brair was mostly known the situation too well on why. The site of motion of the two men usually motive that she heard about and her knowledge of the is entire area suspected of starting animal testing for their products it was no surprise why two people wanted for their crimes to come in the factory to make damage and let out some animals that were almost ready to be tested on. As fate had it she was caught by the two men and she didn't have any cover up leaving her expose to a whole, got even more worse when someone caught all of them ran out to call cops but got " knocked out ".Let's just say no one knew what to do except run the fu#k out of there as fast as possible (but now without a few animals or more), and before that, a security guard came in front of her asking why she was doing in the factory hall realized she had no disguise she was about to going to the head office while the bros were almost free til the guard grab her wrist, turned around and saw them mid of escape. When he was about to alert the cops, the guy lost consciousness as Brair's teeth slowly vemon enough to tranquilize him, as all three of them ran out while throw another ball of dynamic on the roof for a distraction.

Apocalipsis

Rosa

18 ?

🦴🧫⚔️🐦‍🔥

She is the first child who came to the chew somehow at 3 y/o alive of terror and chaos. The group was not in the most likely position to even be able to look after themselves, let alone an three year old nearly covered in bl00d that is not her own( Mero almost thought of dangled her off the roof but decided to not go with it calling her Edge for awhile before changing her name 🫣) but kept her knowing the Threats outside the Tortuga so far she was kept in a room for safety measures. Rosa may have been grateful for the hospitality spake that she would leave if she had anywhere to go anyway, and that when everyone else knew things definitely changed.

Life may not be sunshine and rainbows, but she can picture a good glimpse of the life that could be. Some may think she is a defenseless wallflower jokes on them she's a beast and a wild and dangerous one at moments of disaster comes at the door, one time in particular when she was playing with some rocks and a hyena came in the room seamlessly fear wasn't coming into mind was is gruesome, by the time Mero come in to see a red splatter room and a little girl holding out a detach head in front of them bl00d covered mouth.. chewing whatever face it had (no amount was wasted that day).

Ro is pretty smart and observative even at a young age but mostly less humanly emotionally than the chew suspected that she would be growing up, though it could be the isolation and the small notion of the chew (besides Collin)tolerance of just keeping her alive. Maybe she's a small bit they had to deal with or was a bitter reminder of the past either way she knows all too well about faces, meaning that knowledge every single feature is clear to her without even a word and she can prevent any attacks from any animal even without falls through it took a lot of practice and scratches.

Xverse

Aose

👩🏽‍🎨⛓️‍💥🪆🪢

She was a new art school sophomore student who was bubbly, full of ambition ( I got inspired by Harley Quinn and characters like her)and who mightily have known she'd been followed by who came in her dorm that night. She had calls last at night, random creepy notes on her desk, dead flower buds at her door, and by then, it had gotten worse as she'd grown a bit more paranoid before the day happened

She has burd and badly missing memories about the night she was kidnapped. She's kind of has half of memories of her fighting off someone to the ground, but something hit her head, and nowadays, it was just a rain cloud painting, a broken bottle, and yellow eyes? Her mind is still in a blur due to that night and nothing else. In one incident, a test was performed in where she was injected with something, and she was in room full with endless supplies of medications. She was more concerned with what the results of the injection than whatever medicinal effects it could cause. It didn't really help when her body (she was unconscious) laying on the floor shaking when she came to half of her facial and physical form was unrecognizable and that,she looked down at her hands now in chains and hread a voice say "it was for her own good". Enraged with everything that happened, she started at whaling and screaming in on the top of her lungs. Asking what happened to deserve this? She started hitting the walls even if her hands were blooded, but they didn't, then someone came in-and-in a fit of rage. Sheet, you didn't know what happened. But for everyone else, all they saw was the dead body. At least her hands were somewhat free, but her mental state cracked, and since then, she always had a smile on her face.

The effects of the medicines mix in her did much more to a physical form, but a somewhat form, she started to become more aggressive and feisty when five stronger people have to force her to the task room, become more faster on her own two feet even if she ran on broken glass or lava, annihilated a whole steel table in minutes using one hand and her hearing is Is almost third percent of naturally hearing in a more normal human way and because of the incident she grew more tolerant any pain since.

Trottamundoss

Rosita

25?

🪷🎀❤️‍🔥🩰

For what I can say about her: she's mixed with Pinkie pie's personality, golden retriever vides, and a dash of calm blanket of 60's flower power in a large bowl and I throw it in a garden bed ( but sprinkling some thorns in the mix so) and the rest is sun baked for a while. Mostly sweet, bubbly, fun-loving, graceful, cheerful, and smiling girl with a heart of gold 💛

What I think she likes is that it's basically enjoying sunny days, music, friendly company, walks in parks, blowing bubbles, playing with the critters, dancing in the field, etc. ( Gosh, bless her, I made a fu#king deer). I also think that since she likes a big pile of wholesome, Rosita is very good at 🥁 air flying (yes believe it) where she can find a high place dropped herself off and she can just float in the air kinda like a dandelion but without the process of dying just float for long time till she finds a place to lands on

Defenseless as she is for a lot of would take their chances for the kill, but don't think she's knows her opponents will do, that why this little ray of sunshine can burn you when she exposes her bristles that gives a temporarily painful experience for anyone who came to harm her or anyone who seems to be in danger. There's something else she can bo where if she's surrounded , she could spin round liking one of those ballet moves and could just throw up thorns from all of her hair and body and we strike people down like a russian ballet dan throw loose throwing stars at the same time dancing, Also turns into a pack of flowers. FYI

Space

Rosaclipse

🪐🌠🩷🤓

Something happened... something weird happened the day she was born, a long solar eclipse happened and let just say no one survived except her a small, crying, defenseless slime baby who was just hungry and had no idea what happened(or at least that what was said), No one know what happened, whether it was a monster that came in or at a sessionation assassination or anything if for some reason, they left her alone and alive for what . Basically, with bodies who they might believe were her parents. But no one knows since no one couldn't tell since everything was covering like some weird acid. But did not come from her as a baby.. Luckily, she would be in good hands after a long time looking for a good home and have no knowledge of her past, but figured that good for her.

She has been a working experience for almost anyone who's currently knows her, at most shy, fearful, very docile, but is smart,kindhearted, and free spirit. It was between trust and people in general for her. Basically, just being nervous about strangers and having to talk about her to caretakers was hard before she warmed up to them, but that aside is just a sweet, loving star hiding behind the clouds. Ro is also really smart, like her IQ sore would be higher for even university professors to quit and let her take their jobs saying fu#k it.

Ro could do more than just floating all over the place, and being a smart cookie, she actually runs super fast though not much light speed fast but it's hardly anything can catch her so that good right. Also she gives off electricity her can subtract thousands of debris and other times where if you shake her a bit she glow 100% natural light from her own body just like that nobody knew till they found her upside down on the floor just shining bright 🌟. She has been doing well at teleconesis she a little shy about showing that, but she is good at it

Wild school

Rosalie

🐺🎆🕵🏽‍♀️🏍

She's Jade from Victorious, but softer and "secretly" a sweet pea holding a "Don't try me B!cth til I have my coffee " coffee mug with a small breeze of Belle from Beauty and the Beast (but not in the whole stockholm syndrome thing ) so she can be a bookworm as well.

It is no surprise that her background is a mystery. Besides, she was just transferred to the principal's understandings, but there are times when rumors may progress in the mix is almost a theory, and Ro could never care less than a ferrell cat in the middle of fu*king traffic😑. Besides, it's not like she's there for "something else" or something magical, just some good ol' learning is all

Rosalie isn't really social, it can be on for mostly any type of gathering or parties, that she would be forced to go to but as long as you don't underestimate her or judge her for anything( She checked a whole gallop mix of Spite and cocktail mix while filling knives for darts all in the center at the same time for being call a whimp of a female and no one can't say sh!t to her without being out did 🎯 no joke ) you think on the top of your head. Her own willpower can be quite terrifying, especially when her really knows what the situation she could be in, whether it's deadly round house kick a door down closed by some bratty girls or kicking some jeck's ego down on a flirting attempt while Tempting her for a few drinks plus she can read body language real good and surprisingly excellent fighting skills.

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