#burning out fanfic

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, Alcohol consumption, devils lettuce consumption, violence, mentions of murder, panic attacks/ anxiety

Authors note: Chapter One: The Apparition - This story was a request by an anon! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the prompt (prompt is here). I am excited to see where this goes! Let me know any thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged leave a comment :3 (ps. Listen to the apparition by sleep token hehe)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <;3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, within this lifetime, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy either.

Perhaps there was a chance for me, someday or somehow within another universe.

For now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead. Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo pulled at my wrist in desperation. My arm remained still, resisting his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart raced, and I stood frozen in place.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

I’ll be even more of a fuck up if she rats on us.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leathered finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat. The woman's eyes turned away in fear as if watching her own demise would kill her. Ironic.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is this who I am? I am nothing more.

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door as forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rearview mirror. I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

+++++

Y/N

Wrapping the grey apron around my waist, I clocked into work and tightened my low bun, tucking the loose strands of my H/C bangs behind my ear. Another shift, another day that felt wasted away, confiding into the capitalist abyss. 

Overall, I enjoyed my new job working in the coffee shop. The city was busy, something I definitely wasn’t used to, but the cafe was a comforting environment filled with tasty pastries, and an unlimited amount of caffeine to fulfill any heart's desire.

I did appreciate having a solid routine, and a stable job that paid me well, however, I envied those with freedom. Those with spontaneous adventures and the ability to travel; those who got to spend their days making memories. You never know when a day is going to be your last; and at this rate, my soul was going to linger within this fucking place forever. 

I sighed as I checked on the coffee pots, organizing them before neaty lining the glass display with more cakes and croissants. Stocking up the cups and lids, I hummed to myself, letting my mind wander into my corporate daydream distractions.

Why are you never real?

Whenever you appear

You leave me with that grace

I am trembling with fear

But I know that you will disappear

“How’s it going Y/N?” My coworker asked, smiling, pulling me out of my trance.

Annika; I have grown quite fond of her, even though I’ve only known her a week.

“Good,” I smiled, pulling a sanitized cloth out of a bucket and wiping down the counters, “yourself?”

“Oh you know, same old same old.” She said, sighing with a sad smile. I matched her as we shared a moment of familiarity, before concentrating again on wiping the surface, the cold cloth running along the faux marble. 

The seating area was already busy; friends chatting, students studying, and business meetings occurring. I enjoyed watching the bustle of life that everyone brought inside. I smiled as I watched our regular elderly couple I’ve seen each morning this week wave goodbye.

“See you Lauren, bye Ray,” I gave them a nod, before wandering over to empty tables, giving them a wipe. The door dinged as more people came in, but I didn’t bother glancing up, letting myself work. 

I hummed again, singing ever so quietly as I walked back to the counter and began to daydream, thinking of things I’d love to write about, and places I’d love to go. It’s only been three weeks since I left my old life behind, and this was just the beginning of my freedom.

So let's make trouble in the dream world

Hijack heaven with another memory now

I make the most of the turning tide

It just split what's left of the burning silence

“Sleep token?” a man's voice asked, pulling me out of my trance. 

My head immediately spiralled, flushing with embarrassment as I realized Annika was off helping someone else, and I completely ignored the customer in front of me.

“Oh- sorry.” I avoided eye contact, throwing the cloth back into the bucket and scrambling my way back to the till.

“What can I get for you?” I asked as I stared at the buttons in front, preparing myself to hit stay or go, before looking up at the man in front of me. As soon as I met his deep brown eyes, I was lost in a certain intensity, the mysterious depths beckoning me towards him.

My lips parted as I stared at him, my cheeks immediately warming from infatuation. His chocolate eyes were paired with a head of long brunette hair that flowed in all the right places, just below his collarbone. A variety of coloured tattoos covered his arms and neck, and when he smiled, I just about felt weak in the knees; the crinkle of his eyes and the fold of his smile lines left me captivated. However, another story lingered behind his gaze, my mind trying to peel the layers to reveal whatever it may be.

He too watched my face, eyes trailing over every detail as a light tint of blush trailed down his ears to the top of his cheekbones.

“Uh- is it to stay? Or to go?” I stuttered as I looked away, realizing I was staring for too long. My ears felt hot and I eyed the counter intensely, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“To go please,” he said; and my god his voice, the slight Virginian accent that danced off his tongue held me in a chokehold. 

“What could I get for you today?” I asked, glancing up shyly. I've met plenty of attractive customers in my years of retail and serving, but I never had anyone caught my eye the way he did. The unknown puzzle he appeared to be was leaving me captivated.

“I'd like a coffee please, black?” he said slowly, as if it was a question.

I let out a small laugh, “Did you want cream or sugar? Or we have a variety of syrups-” I watched as he smiled, before shaking his head, eyes remaining fixated.

“No, just black is okay…” he said. Something about his October eyes tantalized me, pulling me towards him as if invisible strings were being woven between us as the seconds ticked by. His body was a magnet, and I was being tugged. 

“Sure thing,” I nodded, averting my eyes from his gaze in embarrassment, “that's everything for you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, fiddling with his wallet before pulling out cash. 

“Can I grab a name?” I asked shyly, looking back at him again, my eyes searching his entire face for answers as if his name would reveal all the mysteries he was hiding.

I extended my hand to grab his money, and he hesitated for a moment as if scared to touch me. He placed the bill gently in my palm, the tip of his tattooed fingers brushing across my skin. My hand burned as butterflies churned in my stomach.

“Noah,“ he said, giving a slight nod and tight smile.

“Noah,” I echoed, giving him his change, the cool silver coin radiating the heat off of his palm.

“I’ll have that ready for you shortly,” I smiled up at him, and he returned it, stepping back with his hands in his pockets. With shaky hands, I turned around and walked to the coffee pot, grabbing a cup and filling it with a warm drink.

Annika slithered next to me, bumping my shoulder gently, “That’s Noah, a regular. He hasn’t been here in a while, but he’s always so glum.”

I looked at her, nodding slowly, unsure what to say.

“He also always grabs cream and sugar, so I’m surprised he’s changing it up.” Annika turned around, eying the boy for a moment before leaning into me again, “must be because he’s so distracted, checking you out.”

Blush tinted my cheeks as I scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” I exhaled with doubt but took a quick glance at the brunette. Sure enough, he was watching from behind the counter, averting his eyes as soon as we made contact. 

“You should give him your number, maybe that’ll cheer him up,” Annika whispered, giving me a wink before walking away to help another customer.

I laughed lowly as I put on the lid, sliding a sleeve up the cup. Grabbing the sharpie I opened it, and my fingers hesitated- what if I did?

I shook my head gently, shaking away the thought before scribbling Noah’s name across the top of the lid.

“Noah,” I said, his name passed off my lips as if he breathed it from me. 

His inked fingers wrapped around the cup, “You were singing the apparition earlier,” He said, and I watched him curiously, “fascinating, the line about the past.”

Every word felt like it was being taken from my body as we watched each other. Both of us seemed to hesitate, waiting for the other to say something.

He spoke first, eyes gazing upon me for a moment as he turned towards the door, “I’ve never seen you before, you must be new around here.”

I wanted to respond, but I felt frozen; so I watched every step he took towards the door, the black hoodie he wore lingering in my memory. 

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Have a good day,” He nodded, before walking through the door, the bell signalling his dismissal as he left.

Well, I believe,

Somewhere in the past,

Something was between,

You and I, My dear

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Perhaps it was infatuation or complete adoration; but regardless my heart yearned, regretting the way I held myself. Thoughts churned throughout my mind as I replayed the way he looked at me. I don’t think I've ever been looked at with so much intensity. 

Fuck, why didn’t I get his number? I internally groaned, scolding myself, turning around to fix another pot of coffee. A few minutes went by as my mind raced with thoughts before I heard the door open again.

I instantly turned around, surprised to see the same long-haired brunette standing at the till once again, his locks tousled messily, but still cascading down to his collar bones elegantly.

“Hi,” He said, out of breath, as if he had been running. With parted lips and quick exhales, he smiled. 

“Hi,” I said confused, my heart picking up pace once again.

“I think, I forgot cream and sugar,” He said, holding out the cup. His fingers shook as his cheek blushed. 

My head tilted slightly as he eyed me, and I grabbed the cup from him gently, “How many of each would you like?”

“One and one.” He smiled, face flushed.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I turned around to pour the sugar and cream, mixing it in his still-hot coffee.

“One cream and one sugar,” I watched as our hands touched as we passed the beverage, fingers grazing, tingles sparking through my appendages.

Noah looked at me, our eyes searching each other for any other form of communication, but he spoke first, the question bluntly leaving his mouth, “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

I gave him a dumbfounded look, eyebrows turned inwards in shock. My lips slowly upturned into a smile of disbelief, his questions catching me completely off guard. I tilted my head to look at him as a laugh escaped me, and he too joined in, his own laugh shy and reclused.

“I- I think you should walk by again,” I watched him, coming up with a quick witty response, “But only so I can get another look as to what you’d look like walking towards me on a date.” 

I cringed at my own words, laughing, and Noah’s smile widened at the banter.

“So, I’ve gathered that we are both really terrible at flirting,” He said, taking a sip of his coffee and licking his lips once he pulled the cup away.

I hummed in agreement, “I think that can be a safe deduction from this one-minute conversation,” my eyes following his fingers that now ran through his long chestnut hair, eyes trailing over the flower on the back of his hand, “maybe, you’d like to see how bad a longer conversation could be?” 

Noah’s eyes twinkled with curiosity, giving me a look, “Do you want to risk it all right now?”

I smiled as my heart began to race, the glint in his eyes only excited me more. I grabbed the sharpie that was initially filled with regret earlier, wrote my number on top of a napkin, and handed it to him. “I’m off at 5, and I don’t work my next job till 9”

Noah licked his lips again, “I’ll see you then.”

---

I stood outside the coffee shop with my earbuds in, awaiting my bad decision. Pulling my hair out of my bun, I attempted to run my fingers through my hair to make it look even a little flattering. Would he show up? Was I delusional? Was this whole idea absolutely insane? Who does this with a complete stranger?

“Hey.”

I recognized the upbeat of his voice, and my ears immediately shifted colours. I pulled out an earphone as he strode towards me, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. The way his hair flew behind his shoulders left me watching him in complete adoration. He was beautiful. 

“Let me guess,” Noah bit the inside of his cheek as he approached me, “Same song?”

Don’t wait, ‘cause this could be the last time

You turn up in the reveries of my mind

I wake up to a suicide frenzy

Loaded dreams still leave me empty

“Possibly,” I smiled.

“I think you’d really like this song by Deftones,” He began as we started walking down the street aimlessly without a plan.

“Can I guess?” I asked, looking up at him. Noah towered over me, inches above in height. I felt so small against his frame, despite his own lanky figure, and my heart began to race at our proximity. Every step he took it felt like I had to take three, his Dior cologne radiating through my senses.

Why are you never real?

The shifting states you follow me through

Unrevealed

Just let me go or take me with you

“Is it sex tape?” I asked, and Noah gave me a toothy grin, clearly impressed.

“I don’t know how you guessed the exact song,” He said, squinting at me quizzically.

“What can I say,” I shrugged, “Good at reading pretty boys’ minds. Plus, it’s a good song, similar vibe.” 

He eyed me playfully as we stopped at the crosswalk, “So you think I’m pretty?”

I watched the other side of the street, smiling as I faced forward and hummed, “Well, I don’t think I’d spontaneously go out with just anyone.”

He turned to face me, looking down at me with amusement. “Fair enough.”

“For the record, 100 percent my type,” I said, looking at him through my lashes.

Noah’s face flushed again, “What is that type? Just so I can scope them out for you, ya know?”

I thought a moment, chewing on my lip, “Oh you know, hot long-haired brunettes, brown eyes,” my eyes trailed down his body to scope his hands, before trailing back up to see the snake poking above his hoodie collar, “with tattoos,in a variety of places.”

“Well,” Noah’s cheeks tinted deeper, “I do have tattoos all over my body if you ever feel the need to explore them all.”

I laughed, watching him. We stared at each other for a moment longer, my heart pounding, as his eyes devoured me before the beeping of the sidewalk timer pulled my attention away from him.

“This is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed and shook my head as I laughed in disbelief.

“What?” Noah asked, hands in his jeans pockets as he gazed between me and the path ahead.

“Going out with someone I know nothing about,” I began, “for all I know you could be a serial killer,” I teased.

Noah chuckled, “Fair. I suppose this was the last thing I thought I’d be doing this fine Tuesday evening- but I do find a dash of danger titillating.” 

I smiled widely, “so, you’re not a serial killer?”

“Not that I’m aware of, I can’t say it’s something I would get much from,” Noah laughed, but I noticed he looked away, eyes becoming distant.

“So who are you then?” I asked, Noah and I follow each other down the park path towards the neighbourhood. I pulled out my earbuds, shoving them back into my pocket. The wind was picking up slightly, causing me to shiver and pull my sleeves over my hands, fingers intertwining together in my hoodie pouch. We were walking along a path by the inner city river, the leaves of the birch trees swaying as they danced along to nature’s beat.

As I strolled next to Noah I felt an odd sense of comfort, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the man beside me. I watched him, his hair flying behind him, his eyes squinting through the wind.

“I don’t really know who I am,” He said, staring out at the water. The river flowed rapidly, the water washing over the memories of the city, carrying them through the ground in a prophesied path. I walked along with him quietly, waiting for Noah to continue speaking.

“I’m just a lost soul, I guess,” He spoke softly, eyes glazing over slightly as his mind pulled him inwards.

I nodded in understanding, “I suppose that I am too.”

Noah chuckled lowly, “Nah, there’s much more to your story,” he pried, pulling himself out of his trance.

“I mean, of course. Everyone has a past,” I looked at him curiously.

“What’s yours?” Noah watched me intently, pulling his hoodie over his head in an attempt to block the wind from blowing his hair into his face, “You’re not from around here.”

“How do you know?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Accent,” He said, “And I’ve never seen you around. I know these parts pretty well.”

“Hm. Fair enough.” I nodded, smiling, “I just moved here, from Canada.”

“To the shit hole city of Los Angeles?” Noah scoffed, surprised, “You had the whole world, and you chose LA?”

“City of dreams, they say,” I shrugged, my gaze falling upon the leaves again, “and I needed to get as far as I could.”

Noah was quiet for a moment, pondering. We walked in silence again, heading towards the houses.

“Running from something?” He asked, barely forming a whisper. Noah’s eyes met mine as they searched for an answer, attempting to read through me.

I sighed, tilting my head to give him a small smile, “Always.”

“Who?” Noah asked after another pause, sitting forward in interest.

“Ghosts and demons,” I laughed, lightening the mood, “Oh, and people too.”

We laughed together, our voices creating a harmony that I wanted to listen to forever.

“I left behind everything—everything I ever knew,” I began, turning to avoid Noah’s eyes.

“My parents were murdered,” I said. I expected him to immediately bombard me with apologies, as people always did when dropping a bomb like that; but he was silent, letting me continue. “I was thirteen. Lived in and out of different foster care homes- no one wants to ever take in a teenager.”

Noah hummed, prompting me to continue. We walked down the sidewalk along the street of houses; nearing my own. Staring at it as we walked by, I turned my attention forward.

“Unfortunately got in with the wrong crowd and some really bad people who only loved and wanted me when I could provide them with things.” I stifled a laugh, suddenly feeling insecure and small, “Basically I worked my ass off to get out, and I’ve finally made it and bought my own place.”

I looked over at him now, giving him a smile, “So still running, but a lot closer to my destination.” I felt an immense amount of appreciation for his ability to listen.

Noah smiled back, giving me a knowing glance; almost as if he understood. Turning his attention toward the houses he scanned them, watching each one intensely as we walked by.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just trauma-dumped on a stranger,” I gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Nah, we aren’t strangers now,” He said, “Definitely more like acquaintances.”

I smiled at his reassurance, “And you? You’re quite mysterious.”

Noah was quiet, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and thought as we enjoyed each other’s company, his eyes darting rapidly over the grass as if he were filtering through memories. I watched his lip run between his teeth before he turned to me, giving me a curt smile.

“I’m just Noah,” He said; but as I stared into his eyes, devouring his soul, I saw that he was much more than that.

+++++

NOAH

“Where the fuck were you?” Jolly yelled, “We’ve been waiting for hours.”

I slammed the motel door, the place we called home, glaring at him, “nowhere mom, it's not like you need to know.”

“You’re right,” Jolly said, stepping forward, pushing himself towards me so our chests were almost touching.

“I don’t give a fuck what you were doing, who you were doing, or whatever- But you know what time you need to be back, and you’re late.” Jolly’s finger pressed into my chest as he scolded me. We stared at each other, eye to eye, his gaze furious. I pushed against his chest, making space between us as I furrowed my brows.

“Whatever, sorry, I got carried away,” I mumbled, throwing myself onto the cot that rested on the floor I sighed, my cheek smashing into the musky-scented pillow. Staring at the 80’s retro carpet splayed on the floor, I analyzed the faint outline of the blood stain left by Ruffilo last week when he cut his knee open from a previous job.

“It’s your turn, Noah.” Nick Folio slapped the backpack onto the table as he sat back in the chair, crossing his legs on top of the wooden surface. The joint was lit between his lips as the smoke trailed through his teeth.

“I fucking hate doing this shit,” I protested, shaking my head as I rolled onto my back, letting myself close my eyes momentarily. Ruffilo tossed me my gloves and mask, the fabric hitting my chest. I groaned angrily as I sat up. I pulled the black leather gloves over my fingers to cover my tattoos. Standing up I shoved the black ski mask into my hoodie pocket, before throwing my phone into my cargo pants.

“Just this one for the week brother. Then you don’t need to worry about it till next week.” Nicholas Ruffilo said, smiling at me gently. He knew I hated this. He knew I wanted it to stop.

“How many more fucking weeks, huh? It’s been years. I’m sick of this shit.” I snapped, and Nicholas, being the glue of this group, placed his hands on my shoulders.

“I know,” he said, watching me cautiously.

A bitter laugh escaped Jolly’s lips, “What else are we going to do Noah? Magically pull a million bucks out of our asses?”

I loved Jolly, I really did. He was my oldest brother for as long as I can remember- but fuck, did I ever want to punch his face into the wall sometimes.

Jolly sat back in the wooden chair next to Folio, “You know the drill. It’s nothing new. We do what we gotta do to survive; how else are we going to pay back D?”

I shrugged Nicholas’ hand off my shoulder, muttering to myself in annoyance as I grabbed my combat boots, kicking my black vans underneath the cot. I tied up the laces, knotting together the memories of previous jobs, the back of my mind replaying years of regret.

Cracking open a beer, Jolly took a swig before mumbling, “Don’t forget you’re the whole reason we are in this mess in the first place.”

My head snapped up immediately, eyes locking onto his, ears burning a deep red as my face heated, “Yeah? Why don’t you say that again you fucking prick?”

Jolly raised his voice, sitting forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as he leered into me, “I’m sick and tired of hearing it, Noah. Do you think we enjoy doing this too? Do you think we want this? Don’t complain about the work when you fucked us over first.”

My chest heaved as I grew irritated, eyes glaring as his words stabbed me, “I was fourteen!” I shouted, spit flying from my mouth, “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t told me to in the first place!”

Nicholas reached for me again, pushing against my chest to hold me back. I aggressively hit his hand away, grabbing my backpack vigorously and throwing it over my shoulder.

“I didn’t tell you to do anything,” Jolly growled, watching me as my fists clenched, muscles tightening.

“You’re the one I’m supposed to look up to!” I yelled.

“It’s not my fault your parents died,” Jolly said, and both Nicks immediately turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment.

“Don’t you fucking bring them into this!”I screamed, seething, ready to lunge at the long-chestnut-haired man in front of me. Nicholas wrapped his arms around my chest, pulling me away. I squirmed against him, closing my eyes in anger as I fought the tears that brimmed them.

An hour ago I was sitting with one of the most beautiful humans I had ever laid my eyes on. I’ve never done anything as risky as spending time with someone I just met, especially someone like Y/N. She seemed so brave, so gentle… so worthy. How someone could captivate me within mere moments, left me baffled. I knew I was in complete infatuation, and I already felt myself craving to see her again. I have gotten a coffee from that cafe almost every day for a year; it’s the only stable part of my routine. Everything was always the same. The coffee, the customers, the servers, everything. Everything but Y/N. Seeing her threw me off, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that felt like she was placed there as if maybe she was just for me. She seemed like a breath of fresh air in my stale, grey, lifeless world. Something about the way she spoke, how she seemed so mysterious, her wit and her beautiful fucking eyes.

Now here I was, being reminded that I was unworthy of anyone.

“Do you know where you’re going to go?” Nick asked me, pulling me from my thoughts. He handed me the joint, a way to divert from the tension,

I nodded, “I walked around a neighbourhood I’ve been eying lately, the one close to the coffee shop.” Wrapping my lips around the joint I inhaled, letting the smoke fill my throat and lungs. I coughed as I handed it back to Folio.

“Don’t you think that area is a little risky?” Nicholas said, raising a brow, “we spend enough time around there.”

I shrugged, “I scoped some places earlier. Close together and tight nit. Enough places to hide. Seems like most of the owners are elderly, it's an old neighbourhood.”

Nick took a final puff of the joint, before blowing out the smoke through open lips, placing the bud in the tray beside him, “Elderly is good. Lots of nice shit; if you sort through the useless junk. Bring the gun for the scare factor.”

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” I said as Nick held out the weapon, my finger grazing across the metal. Even through the glove, I felt its cool, metallic texture, my mind jumping back to the woman held before it earlier.

What am I even doing?

Shoving the gun into my waistband I opened the motel door, “See you guys later.” I nodded to each of them, eyes lingering on Jolly for a moment longer.

“Text if you need anything,” Jolly said through gritted teeth, taking another sip of his beer, and avoiding my gaze.

I walked down the wooden stairs, passing the rundown vinyl wall that lined the entire building. As I passed the paint-peeled doors listening to various arguments, and the sounds of sex. The scent of weed and stale alcohol lingered on the cement, decades of grime living within the premises, never fully washing away. As pathetic as it was, it smelled and sounded like home. It was all I had.

I pulled my hood over my head, letting my hair cascade as a shield around my face, my legs carrying me through the neighbourhood. It was 12:30 am, the nightlife bare as only a few cars passed by me, unaware of my felonies.

I wasn’t sure which house would be my victim tonight, but I prayed, to whoever God was, that it would be quick. Get in get out.

I placed an earpod in my ear, scrolling through songs, before choosing The Apparition. Perhaps, if this is all a dream, I can go back to the time I met her. As they say, ignorance is bliss; and I was tired of consciousness.

And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

+++++

Y/N

I clocked out of work, sighing through the exhaustion of my 12-hour day. Thankfully my bar shift was only four hours, but I was tired regardless, knowing I had about 8 hours till I had to be back at the cafe, to do it all over again. I reapplied my red lipstick in an attempt to hydrate my lips, the crisp 1 am air biting at my cheeks. Thankfully home was only a ten-minute walk away, and the only motivation carrying me was that my warm, comfortable bed was waiting for me; and my cat.

I also couldn’t help but still feel giddy about meeting Noah earlier today. My heart yearned as I reminisced about his smile and mysterious aura. My stomach churned with butterflies from the exhilaration. Was this just a one-time thing? Never in a million years would I have thought I’d go on a ‘date’ with someone I just met; but It’s not like I do much other than work. My life needed that little bit of excitement.

I sang to myself, letting the incitement of possibly receiving a text from him in the morning carry me through the dread of working tomorrow. I let my thoughts wander to ridiculous daydreams as I reached the front door of my townhouse. I put the key in, twisting it; realizing I locked the door.

Shit, did I leave it unlocked this morning? I know I was tired…but I’m pretty good at remembering that.

With furrowed brows I opened the door, closing it and double checking it was locked. My orange cat, Juice, was not sitting by the door in his usual spot. Every time he heard the door he was always right there, waiting. None of the lights were on, which usually never worried me; but I knew that I kept the living room lamp on so it wouldn’t be dark when I got home. Maybe the power went out.

“Juice?” I called out, my stomach beginning to churn with a dreadful feeling. Something wasn’t right. The house was eerily silent as I walked quietly toward the kitchen.

“Juju baby? Where are you?” I yelled, turning on the kitchen light. I placed my bag on the counter, listening intensely for his meow.

The floor creaked above me in what sounded like a pattern of footsteps, and I froze in place. That was too loud to be a cat.

There was rustling above the stairs and my breath hitched in my throat as my heart raced. I felt my pulse radiate through my ears as I reached for the biggest kitchen knife from the block. The adrenaline rushed through me as I slinked towards the stairs from the kitchen.

I peered up the stairs into the darkness, the only source of light coming from the windows, illuminating the crevasses of the doors upstairs. Another creek sounded and I watched the shadow dance along the wall as the door to my bedroom opened. With shallow breaths I carried myself up the stairs, tiptoeing, barely allowing myself to exhale in fear I would be too loud.

This is how people get murdered in horror movies you dumb bitch.

As my heart pounded heavily underneath my rib cage, I made it to the top of the stairs, turning on the light to the hallway.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and I screamed, deep from my diaphram; but the only thing appearing was my cat; wide-eyed and meowing.

“Jesus Christ cat!” I yelled, falling onto my knees as I scooped him into my arms, running his orange fur through my fingers.

“You scared the absolute shit out of me,” I let out a breathy laugh, mocking myself for being so silly, before kissing the top of his head. Juice wriggled in my arms, letting out a meow to be put down. I placed him on the floor and he ran into my room. Shaking my head I placed the knife on the bannister, following Juice.

He sat on my bed, meowing towards my mirrored closet as I entered. Turning on the lamp next to my bed, I pet him, “What? Are you hungry? Your bowl is literally full.”

I pulled off my sweater, throwing it into the laundry hamper. Juice began hissing and I stared at him confused.

“What the hell is-”

A hand covered my mouth before I finished my sentence, and I immediately screamed into it, my sounds muffled into the gloved appendage. Another arm wrapped around my torso as my eyes widened with fear, and I froze in place, held tightly against the captor’s chest.

I felt the pace of their heart match my own, their chest heaving up and down heavily.

They turned our bodies towards the mirror and I stared at the reflection, tears beginning to fall from the terror I felt.

The man behind me towered over me, his grip never loosening from my body. Everything was covered except his eyes and mouth, peeking through a black ski mask.

I whimpered against his hand my stomach sinking at the sight of the gun that poked through his black cargo pants, but the most terrifying thing of all was the scent of Dior cologne.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He said, accent burning into my memory, and I watched him in the mirror. It was him. Noah. I knew his voice, this had to be his cologne.

A wave of dread filled my body and I began shaking, crying into his hand. He followed me home, I never should have gone out with a stranger. How could I be so fucking stupid?

“I’m going to leave, and you’re going to let me. Understood?” I nodded, tears drying on my cheeks as I watched his every move. He closed his eyes, as if in regret before he took a deep breath. I don’t think he knows I know who he is, but there was no way in hell I was going to get killed being a crying little bitch. I’m going to harm this motherfucker and get his ass thrown into jail.

“Please don’t scream,” He said, his grip loosening on my body, and when he fully let go I swung around, kicking him forcefully in the family jewels. Noah fell onto his knees, a deep guttural groan emanating from his throat as he held himself in agony. I scrambled into the hallway, grabbing the knife off the bannister and pointing it towards my door.

“You fucking followed me you creep!” I screamed, anger seeping through me, “You’re a fucking lowlife, get out of my house or I’m calling the cops, Noah.” His name crawled off my tongue while dripping with complete disgust, the syllables sickening. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers shaking as I typed in 9-1-1.

“I swear to god I had no idea this was your house,” He said pained as he crouched out of my bedroom, “please Y/N, don’t call the cops.”

“Why shouldn’t I call the cops!” I yelled. Noah’s eyes darted between the phone and me, following my thumb as it hovered over the green call button.

“Just don’t,” Noah said, holding himself against the door. I pressed the button, holding it up to my ear as it dialled.

Noah immediately looked frantic, before his hand reached for the gun placed in his waistline, pulling it out and pointing it at me. Immediately I froze, and the voice of the 9-1-1 operator was dampened by the drowning ringing of panic.

“Hang up,” Noah whispered, the gun shaking in his hands through his demand.

“Hello? Are you there?” The lady on the phone said.

“Y/N, hang up, please.”

Time felt frozen as I stared at the gun, memories flooding back from the murder of my parents. My bottom lip trembled, the phone falling from my hands, onto the carpeted floor. My body was stiff, completely locked in place.

“Hello?”

Noah’s other hand reached out gently, palm open and inviting; countering the symbolism of the weapon present in his other hand. He reached down towards the phone, ending the call.

He let out a sigh of relief, hanging his head in guilt. Throwing the gun to the floor, he kicked it towards the bathroom, before pulling the mask off, revealing the face I yearned for earlier.

He looked broken, and torn, as he watched me completely crumble before him, the panic attack rising in my lungs.

“I- I didn't mean to scare you I- I” Noah began to stutter frantically, moving towards me, “I can’t have the cops come- I can’t leave my brothers.”

I fell to the floor, holding my knees to my chest as I stared at the gun by the bathroom, terror taking over. My breathing became erratic as I began to hyperventilate.

“I swear to god I’m not going to hurt you,” Noah leaned down, sitting in front of me as he held my wrists.

I tried to take in breaths, I tried to pull myself away from him but I couldn’t move. I gasped for air, suffocating myself, unable to exhale.

“Breathe,” Noah’s hands now grabbed either side of my face, “please Y/N breathe!”

His eyes ran across my entire face, holding me, “Count back from 100 in 3’s with me, ok?”

“100, 97, 94, 91, 88…” Noah began, and I followed.

“85, 82, 79…” I choked out, and Noah’s grip on my face loosened, and he moved his hands to hold my own.

I wanted to run away so badly, I was terrified, but at the same time I was scared I wouldn’t be able to breathe again.

Noah counted with me, demonstrating a stable breathing pattern and my chest followed his own, mimicking him, “58, 55, 52, 49…”

Finally, we reached zero, and my breathing was normal. I retracted my hands from his own violently, pulling them into my chest as I scooted away from him as if he were the most vile thing in the world.

“I don’t know whether to say fuck off,” I said, glaring, “or thank you.”

Noah watched me with worry before he ran his gloved hand over his face. Realizing they were still on he groaned in frustration, peeling off the leather angrily and tossing them to the side, his tattooed hands now exposed.

I watched as his fingers shook, my eyes following the outline of the flower once again.

“I’m sure you don’t believe me but I swear I didn’t know this was your house.” He began, holding his hands up in surrender. His eyes looked at me, pleading.

He looked so genuine, so sincere, he had to be telling the truth; but fuck that.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I snarled, “But what the hell were you doing in someone else’s house anyway?” I wiped my mouth, the lipstick I put on earlier smudged across my skin. I probably looked like a complete mess right now. Noah watched, eyes tracing my lips.

“I- I swear If I could tell you I would,” Noah rambled again, looking at the carpeted floor, “but I-”

A loud triple-knock at the door interrupted his sentence, and he stared at me with wide eyes, the colour draining from his face.

“This is LAPD!”A loud voice boomed from the other side of the door, the doorknob turning, attempting to open.

“Shit,” Noah mumbled, looking around the hallway frantically. He stood up, searching for something before he stared down at me, an idea clicking in his mind. Noah tore his sweater off, along with his black tank top underneath, leaving him shirtless before me.

“What the hell are you doing!” I whisper-yelled, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Kiss me,” He said, kneeling in front of me again, complete distress and fear glazing over his eyes.

“Excuse me?” I now yelled, a little too loud as the door below us rattled again.

“LAPD! Open up!”

“I need you to kiss me, please,” Noah’s eyes bore into my own as he begged, “Trust me, just this once, please Y/N.”

I analyzed Noah’s features, his deep October eyes imploring.

Call me crazy, but somehow I obliged, leaning in with permission. Noah’s hands gripped the back of my head, fingers tangled through my hair as he pulled me onto him, kissing me with complete desperation.

Holy shit this was a really long chapter I am so sorry, but I hope you enjoyed it! I am excited to continue!! <3

Chapter two

#burning out fanfic #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #smut #bad omens smut

[spicywhenspeaking]

@sorrowsofsilence omg it’s giving BurningOut!Noah vibes 🔥

#noah sebastian #bad omens #fics by others #burning out fanfic #noahsebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #fic rec

[muffinlance]

I'm barely to the massacre and I can already tell I'm going to be screaming at every this-makes-no-sense decision made by the writers (your temple is under violent attack, and you evacuate the kids... to a barely enclosed corner in a prominent temple room? Instead of to the hundreds of sky bison that were highlighted as flying in earlier? Why?) (And Aang left to clear his head and think instead of to run from his duties? That's such a less compelling plot arc?) (And the show had him briefly monologue about being a goofy kid who loves pies and his friends instead of using the extended temple scene to show any of that? Didn't want to pay more child actors, did you, Netflix?)

Yeah I'm just. Going to be screaming at the screen instead of enjoying this. Different decisions aren't necessarily bad, but when those decisions seem to be in the direction of "show a man burning alive before we even get to the on-screen massacre" this is just... not the show for me.

#The original show emphasized the horror and sadness of the massacre by putting it in the context of people and culture lost #This one is going the Show People We Don't Know Burning Alive Clearly That Will Make More Of An Impression route #Gyatso's bones will always be the epitome of heart break #get out of here with your on-screen immolations just to demonstrate literally flashy cgi #Anyway someone tell me if the Omashu episode is worth watching in isolation I've seen gifs of Zuko getting brow-beat by Random Market Lady #And that DOES sound hilarious #But is the rest of the episode worth it or should I stick to gifs #This is like trying to decide if a barely-canon-divergent fanfic is worth slogging through #For its five fun new scenes #When the rest is just The Same As The Original But Worse #avatar the last airbender #atla #natla #netflix atla

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Nico Robin #THIS POST WAS AN ACCIDENT. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. WHY DID I WRITE THIS. WHAT DEMON POSSESSED ME #I'm sure someone's written this already right #Right #Surely this fanfic already exists #Please tell me it exists #I dunno what to tell you I am not immune to a Juicy AU #Anyway on a more wholesome side of things: Robin accidentally calling Crocodile ''dad'' and he just inhales and swallows his whole cigar #Nearly chockes to death. Gets burns on his throat. #Robin feeling less alienated because of her DF ability because Croc has seen weirder AND is made of sand himself #If anything if they're literally by themselves then Robin being able to literally lend a hand to Croc at any time could be extremely useful #Like. In regular life situations. 'Cause Croc only has one hand. And Robin as many as she wants. Perfect duo. #(Also if they were travelling on like a small ship then it'd probably be built for a Tall Motherfucker like Croc right) #(Robin's ability would just make the ship more accessible to her and Croc would find that independence good) #Robin still gets a codename because Croc can't have anyone realize who she is. Maybe she even wears like a mask or summin' in public #If Crocodile's openly trans and the news of him transitioning recently broke out. Like. No avoiding that convo eh #Baby Robin's like ''...I read in a book once that some reptiles can change sex but I didn't know crocodiles could do it too'' #''💦.../Humans/ can't do that normally either'' #''Hmmmm. Weird. I don't think being a girl would suit you though'' // ''...I'll take that as a compliment'' #I just. I think they could have really cute interactions if they warmed up to each other after a little while #And I'm Extremely Normal about that

[she-who-reads-fanfiction]

Hands up if you were the child that read thousands of books and as an adult you hit burn out and now only read stories about the same 2 idiots falling in love over and over as you don't have the brain power to get emotionally attached to new characters.

#Reading #Fanfic #Ao3 #Burn out #Alot of feelings for fictional characters #Fanfiction #Sterek

[demigods-posts]

all that i need is for percabeth to be in a situation where the only way they can make it out alive is if one of them can win over a group of monsters by telling a captivating and convincing love story. and it's just annabeth very dramatically and humorously reciting the first five books of the pjo series from her perspective. and the monsters are just eating it tf up. and percy's just facepalming so hard.

#annabeth: so then...i kissed him! 😤 #*monsters cheering* #annabeth: and then i had to hear him be burned alive and mourn him for two weeks 😫 #*monsters sreaming and crying* #annabeth: only for him to.crash his own funeral and reveal he was stranded on an island with a different girl😡 #*monsters boo-ing and cussing percy out* #it's almost identical to that scene in frozen 2 when olaf retells the first movie to the group of people #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo text post #pjo headcanon #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth headcanon #percabeth fluff #percabeth fanfic #percabeth textposts

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #fanfic #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fic #stranger things fic #modern au #eddie and robin #platonic stobin #robin and steve #finding safety in people through pride flags #I am SUPPOSED to be TAKING A BREAK from WRITING so I don't BURN OUT #But THIS would NOT leave me ALONE #what's the ship name for platonic eddie and robin? #is there one? #THERE IS ONE #platonic edbin #safety fic

[esbee-daisy]

When A is woken up in the middle of the night and at first they’re not sure why. They rub their eyes and look around blearily; all looks in order. But damn they’re hot. And as soon as that thought appears, they realize with a start it’s coming from next to them - and they look down in horror at B, laying curled into their side. B is absolutely radiating heat - so much so that A is sweaty just from being pressed against them, though no where near as drenched as B. B is shaking and whimpering pathetically, and looks pale even in the low light of the moon, with bright red spots high on their cheeks. A realizes they must not have been feeling well for a while and not mentioned anything, because with a fever like this there’s no way B didn’t go to bed feeling terribly unwell. And A hadn’t noticed.

A tries to wake B up gently, knowing they need to take their temperature and get them some water and meds, but after a few gentle hair strokes and rubbing of B’s arm, they realize B isn’t rousing at all. And if anything their face seems more pained and frightened than it had a minute ago. A starts getting frantic, shaking B harder and calling their name in a panic. They see B’s eyes flutter beneath the lids briefly, then stop as their head dropped even more towards the bed. A’s stomach drops when they realize their aren’t able to rouse B at all. Uh oh.

#fainting #passing out #sickfic #burning up #fever #caretaker #sickfic prompts #whump #whump prompt #unconcious #sick fic #sickie #Whumpee #sick whump #sick Whumpee #collapsed #fever fanfic

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part Four  / Part Five P 1 YOU ARE HERE / Part Five P 2 

As always I own my soul to @chalkysgarbagefire and Hayley for helpin out with this one! 

The problem with D&D games was that the drama room was only available on specific days.

As in, the days Hellfire was scheduled as a club for, much to said club’s distress. 

This led directly into the second issue Hellfire faced--finding a place to host them all when they wanted to do something as a group outside of the main campaign they played. 

(At least anything D&D related, with all of the screaming, ranting, and frantic dice rolling that came with it.) 

Gareth knew Eddie had been lying through his teeth when he'd try to pitch Steve's house as a Hellfire hangout. Accepted that they’d never get to use all the sweet, sweet space Steve was known to have as much as he’d accepted Steve himself. 

It was a lot, after all. Particularly when Eddie’s one-shots were known to last a good chunk of the day. 

Once again, Steve had proved them all wrong. 

(“We can use my house.” were five words not a single person at the table had ever expected to hear out of Harrington’s mouth, and it showed in the shocked silence that followed when he actually spoke them. 

“What?” Steve asked, as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Space is the problem right? So my house is the perfect solution.” 

“Are you sure dude?” Grant asked hesitantly. “You know this one-shot isn’t gonna be a like, two hour thing, right?” 

To their surprise Steve just gave him a flat, almost dead-eyed stare in return. “I’ve hosted the kids at my place before. Believe me, I am well aware.” 

“As long as you’re absolutely sure…” Jeff had added, and could only roll his eyes when he got a sassy response from Steve. 

Gareth of course, caught the way Steve kept seeking out Eddie’s eyes, as if hoping to make their oldest friend smile simply by offering up his house. 

He didn’t even need to look to know it was working.) 

It had taken some creative thinking (and a few wild excuses) to finangle things so that he could show up to Steve's literal castle of a home before anyone else without alerting Eddie but he'd managed it.

It was in fact, looking to be the highlight of Gareth's month. 

Possibly the year, if they managed to pull off the little plot he had cooked up. 

“I still don’t get how this is a prank.” Steve said, as Gareth prepped him before the others arrived.

"Trust me. If Eddie is anything, it's a jealous bitch." Gareth replied, seated on one of the countertops. "We dethrone him and he's gonna make an ass of himself for the next week. It'll be hilarious." 

"I fail to see how that's different than usual." Steve grumbled as he bustled about. 

Upon arrival Gareth had found him elbow deep into making cookies and what appeared to be  themed cocktails, among several other bowls full of snacks of all kinds. 

There was even little finger sandwiches, the kind that absolutely looked homemade, and Gareth would have teased him about that except he’d instantly stuffed two in his mouth.  

("I won't be able to host since I'm playing, so I just want everything done before anyone comes over." Was Steve's explanation, when Gareth did manage to get out a few teasing quips.  

With the proud lack of manners so many teenage boys possessed, Gareth talked right through his mouth of food. "God you’re a dork. How the hell did you get popular?"

"Shut up Emerson, you're wearing two jackets." Steve snipped in response, as if he didn’t look like the poster boy for Nordstrom.) 

"Don't bring logic into this." Gareth continued, as he tried to snag some cookie dough. 

 Steve smacked the back of his hand with a spoon. 

"Get a bowl and a spoon if you're going to eat the dough!" Steve grumbled at him, already bustling to get said bowl and spoon himself. “God you’re worse than Eddie. And the kids!” 

Gareth waited until Steve turned before he stuck his tongue out at him. "Whatever you say, mom." 

He got an over exaggerated eye roll in response. 

 "Anyway, the point is you're gonna witness something we'll get to tease Eddie about for years." Gareth said, as he watched Steve dole out some dough. 

"You get to watch the little hamster on the wheel that powers Eddie's brain lose its shit and cause him to do something really stupid.” He made grabby hands for the bowl and spoon, and tucking in delightfully the second Steve handed them over. 

Steve himself treated the entire exchange like he was feeding a particularly vicious and wild animal, making a show of yanking his hands back like Gareth might just go for his fingers. "I just don't understand why the thing you wanna fight about is cuddling."

"Bragging rights. The jokes we can make. The fact that your thighs look like they were made out of clouds, take your pick man.” Gareth counted off, in-between bites of dough. 

"Clouds?" Steve asked, tilting his head. 

“Big muscley clouds, Harrington. Also Grant’s here.” 

Steve blinked. “How do you-” He asked, right before the sound of a car with an engine far too loud pulled into his driveway. 

“He drives an absolute piece of crap. You ride in that thing one time and you’ll be able to hear it coming for the rest of your life.” Gareth explained, as Steve peered out the kitchen and down to his front doors. 

(Plural, because he had two.

Gareth had never felt more judged by slabs of wood in his life than he had when he’d walked through them.) 

"Last chance to bail, Stevie.” Gareth teased. “I won't hold it against you if you call it off mid-show though." 

Steve didn’t answer for a moment, too busy disrobing from his baking apron—a bright yellow and red garment that practically swallowed him whole, complete with an embroidered ‘Claudia Henderson’ over the right breast. The embroidery gave rise to a few questions but Gareth decided to save them for later. 

"No, something this fucking weird has to have a story behind it and I want to witness the fallout.” Steve finally replied, before rushing out of the kitchen. 

He ripped open his front door, right after a knock echoed loudly throughout the house. 

“Shit! What the hell man, were you just waiting to do that!?” Stewart yelped, prompting Gareth to snicker quietly and Steve to apologize. 

Like the wealthy housewife he’d been no doubt raised by, Steve went through a whole spiel as he ushered Stewart and Grant in, pointing out bathrooms, letting them know where the game was going to take place (the giant fuck off table that looked like it should be hosting some kind of high-stakes negotiation instead of a bunch of nerds) and where they could put their things (into a closet dedicated to just guests.) 

The trio of Eddie, Tiffany and Jeff arrived next, the latter two having been roped into helping Eddie haul his “D&D To Go” bags around. 

Steve started his little host speech over, much to Gareth’s amusement, fluttering about and entirely forgetting about his cookies until the oven dinged, causing him to swear and rush back into the kitchen. 

“Dude, breathe.” Gareth told him, almost done with his bowl. “It’s a D&D game, you don’t gotta go full out for us.” 

“I just want to make sure everyone has a good time.“ Steve said with a shrug. Like none of the effort he’d gone to, was a big deal. 

“Careful Harrington, say stuff like that again and we’re going to start thinking you enjoy hosting us.” 

“Shut up Gary.” Steve said, setting his cookies on a cooling rack. “And put that bowl in the sink!” 

Gareth jumped off the counter, trying his best to remove the shit eating from his face.

He failed entirely. 

xXx 

As far as pranks went, this one required quite the set up. 

They couldn’t do it in the beginning of the D&D game--too obvious, and too easy for Eddie to call bullshit. 

Doing it at the end wouldn’t work either. Eddie would know they were trying to rile him up and would no doubt find a way to ruin it. 

Years of being Munson’s best friend had afforded Gareth the knowledge that this was going to have to be split in two parts, and the first part, the setup, started now. 

Slowly. Methodically. 

In a way that wouldn't spook Steve, or trigger Eddie's sense for trouble. 

Gareth began by selecting a seat as far away from Eddie as possible, knowing his lovestruck idiot friend would be pulling out all the stops tonight in order to impress Steve (and get him to keep playing, of course.) 

Sure enough, as soon as Eddie was done setting up he crooked a finger in Steve's direction.

“Harrington you’re here, next to me.” Eddie flashed him his most award winning grin, the one that said he was up to trouble in that charming, ‘aren’t I just a charming ol’ rogue?” sort of way. 

“I made you a human fighter, just to start you off." He continued, as Steve took the seat next to him. "You can always make your own character later if you don't like playing this class, but I made this set up as straightforward as possible.” 

“Human fighter huh?” Steve said, glancing down the sheet. “Okay.” 

“You have any questions, you just ask. I promise I won’t bite. Not for your first time anyway.” Eddie winked, dipping in and out of Steve's space as he did so. 

“Dude, I am begging you to please stop saying shit like that.” Jeff said with a long suffering sigh. 

“No.” Eddie replied promptly, sticking his tongue out. 

Steve just ducked his head to hide his smile. 

A harsh clap halted any further response, as Eddie settled back into his seat and dipped into his DM narrator voice. 

"Alright my little adventurers! Are we ready to begin?"  He looked around as everyone looked towards him, the energy shifting instantly in the room. 

Eddie grinned gleefully. "Perfect. You all wake up at an Inn, with no memory of how you got there…" 

A story was quickly spun, one of mysterious memory loss and a sense that the group needed to stay together. Introductions were given once everyone came into the tavern of the inn, cut short when they were interrupted by a lone barkeep.

“Is the barkeep a human?” Steve cut in. 

Eddie paused, temporarily thrown, but nodded encouragingly. “Yes, he is actually!” 

Grant and Jeff both went to open their mouths, no doubt to tease, but Harrington beat them to it. 

“Okay, I roll to fight him, or whatever.” Steve said.

“I--what?” Eddie asked. 

“I roll to fight him.” Steve repeated. “Oh and my character screams “Death to humans!” before he attacks.” 

He sat back with a smug little grin, and watched as Eddie froze in surprise, while Grant and Stewart's jaws promptly hit the floor. 

“Harrington, you menace.” Tiff cackled, delighted. 

Eddie just threw his head back and laughed. 

It set the tone quite nicely for the rest of the one-shot. 

xXx 

“Grant, why are you looking at me through a fork?” Steve asked, about thirty minutes into the game. 

“I’m pretending you’re in jail.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Grant, whose character had to physically carry Steve's fighter out of two altercations he started,  just gave him a flat look.  “It’s spiritually healing.”

"Hey Jeff." Gareth asked quietly, as banter was traded. "I'm catching a hell of a draft over here." 

Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?" 

"Switch me seats?" 

Jeff rolled his eyes, but gave in easily enough. 

"Fine."  He said. 

Gareth did his best to keep his grin off his face. 

Step one, complete! 

xxx

"You come upon a door." Eddie said, sitting deep in his seat while steepling his fingers. "It's a normal door, unremarkable in every way except for two things." 

Groans filled the room, startling Steve. 

"Oh god, not again." Stewart moaned, raking his hands through his hair. "I can't do this again!" 

Eddie's grin merely grew. "The first odd thing you notice is that the door has been put into the wall at a tilt." 

"I'm gonna kill him." Tiff snarled, writing something frantically in her notes. "Munson is a dead man walking." 

"What is happening?" Steve asked, glancing around. 

"The second thing is that you recognize this door." Eddie's grin was Cheshire cat-esque, smug in the chaos he was causing among his friends. "It's the same door you saw at the beginning of this adventure, leading into the room the Innkeeper asked you to stay away from." 

"We're boned." Grant announced, throwing himself dramatically back against his chair. 

Gareth made his own dramatic, frustrated noise, banging his fist on the table. 

The full glass of soda next to him wobbled dangerously. 

With a cough, he made another loud "ugh!"  smacking his fist down a second time, closer to the glass. 

As intended, it spilled all over Tiffany. 

"Dude!" She exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and jumping up. 

"Oh shit Tiff, I'm so sorry!" Gareth gasped. 

It was hard to keep a straight (albeit very sorry, least Tiffany hit him with her papers) face, but he managed. 

Barely. 

"You got my shirt wet you dick!"

"Here, switch it with this."  Gareth stood, unwrapping the red and black checkered sweater from his waist. He offered it up with an apologetic face as Tiff snatched it out of his hands with a glare. 

"I'll switch you seats too!" He called as she stormed off towards the bathroom. 

Jeff and Grant both stared at him with raised eyebrows as Gareth quickly shuffled his and Tiff's stuff around, taking her now sticky chair. 

"Maybe we should take a break?" He suggested, trying to act embarrassed when he was anything but. "This whole area needs to be wiped down."

"Five minutes." Eddie conceded. "I wanted one of Stevie's delicious cookies anyway." He stood, putting his arms up in a lazy stretch. 

Steve stood with him, leaning over to examine the mess Gareth had made. “We can wipe this down but this wood’s kinda funny, it’s gonna be wet for a bit no matter how much we dry it.” 

“Well shit.” Gareth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the table man.” 

Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, the kids spill on it constantly. You are probably going to need a different chair though unless you’re fine with your ass getting wet.” 

“Do you have another chair somewhere, Stevie?” Eddie asked, making a show of looking around. “Cause I’m not seeing one. Not that I care if Gary-Berry sits on the floor.” 

Steve had several extra chairs in fact, but he and Gareth had hidden them all away before anyone else had arrived. 

“I used to, but Mike broke two.” Steve said, and Gareth found himself insanely impressed by the improv on display. 

He hadn’t thought Harrington had that level of acting in him. 

“If you’re okay with sharing though, the chair’s are big enough that we can kinda squish together.” Steve continued, completely ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes about bugged out of his head. 

“Only if you’re sure, man. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” Gareth put on his saddest, ‘I dun fucked up’ face, and shuffled his feet a little, just for dramatic effect. 

This was the performance of a lifetime and Gareth wanted his Grammy after it, because he and Steve had planned the entire thing right down to the shared chair bit. 

“You’re not, Dustin does this constantly.” Steve replied easily. 

“Or we could just put down a towel.” Jeff said, with a look on his face that said he thought everyone in the room was a fucking idiot. 

Gareth could’ve strangled him. 

“That’s probably a smarter idea.” Steve agreed, like the traitor he was. “I dunno if that’s gonna work for your papers and shit though, so you can just hedge into my space.” 

Which wasn’t what Gareth wanted, but he had to give Steve props for the quick thinking. 

At least it was just a minor setback. 

“I’ll get a towel.” Jeff continued, and at least they all got to witness the look that graced Eddie’s face upon realizing that Jeff of all people, knew where Steve kept his towels. 

xXx

"What the hell else can we do to try and open the door!?" Jeff snarled a while later, slamming his pencil down. 

They'd tried multiple different approaches and so far nothing had worked to set off whatever trap Eddie had set up. Something that made their DM absolutely delighted, while frustrating everyone else. 

"I still don't get why we can't just try to turn the knob." Steve complained, staring in confusion at the absolute riot Eddie's "completely normal" door had caused among the rest of his party. 

"Do not touch that door Harrington!" Grant bellowed, pointing at him. 

Steve raised his hands in the air placatingly. "Easy, easy, I was just making a suggestion." 

Gareth, wedged as close into Steve's space as he could get, tapped his fingers on the table twice. It was the little code he’d come up with to alert Steve that he was about to do something to piss off Eddie related to the prank (mostly, so Steve had a heads up Gareth was about to touch him, not that Gareth had spun it that way when he’d explained it) before patting Steve’s shoulder, hooking his elbow on it and leaning over. “Not gonna lie man, it’s not a bad idea. We’ve tried right about everything else.” 

He could feel Eddie's eyes burning a hole in his skull from here and he delighted in it. 

“Do not encourage him.” Grant said through gritted teeth. 

Gareth leaned his face on the arm perched on Harrington, his hair tickling Steve’s cheek as he tried to look as angelic as possible. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean, Grantman.” 

He was flipped off in response. 

xXx

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Stewart howled, and even Gareth’s jaw dropped when Steve finally gave in and tried to turn the knob--only to succeed and swing the door open. 

“Well Munson? What happens to him?” Tiff said, having refused to call Eddie anything but his last name since the door had first appeared. 

“Nothing.” Eddie practically purred. “I told you, it’s a totally normal door, and the only weird thing about it was that you recognized it and that it was put into the wall a little tilted.” 

“Fuck you dude.” Stewart practically growled, balling up the piece of paper he’d been doodling on and flinging it towards their DM. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck. You!” 

“No thank you.” Eddie replied cheekily, twirling a finger in his hair. 

“We spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to open a regular door.” Jeff said, clearly processing. “An hour.” 

Eddie just shrugged, shit eating grin plastered across his face. 

Gareth once again tapped his fingers twice against the table, waited a moment, before banging his head gently against Steve’s shoulder. “I hate him.” He groaned. 

After a long moment, Steve gently, if not a little awkwardly, patted him on the head. 

“There, there, Gary. We defeated the door in the end.” He said calmly. 

Gareth laughed, absolutely delighted. His head jerked up and a grin crossed his face as he immediately looked to see what Eddie made of that. 

Pure murder, going by the face Eddie poorly tried to cover. 

Perfect. 

xXx 

“With his last few moves, Sir Carrington-” 

"I refuse to let that be my character's name.” Steve interjected, as he had every time Eddie brought up the name they’d apparently argued over. “If I have to figure out how to change it legally in your dumb game I fucking will."  

Eddie didn’t even look in his direction. 

“--Sir Carrington leaps into the air, swinging the sword of truth. It cleaves right through the Innkeeper, revealing him to be the dastardly villain you’ve heard so much about, Tareth the Trait. He’s gained an unusual amount of power after stealing the Inn from the former Innkeeper--” 

“Really bro?” Gareth said, sending Eddie a flat look. “Tareth the Trait?” 

“--With this final blow, Tareth collapses to the ground, dead. The Inn returns to its prior form, a safe haven for adventurers, instead of a trap.” 

“Shut up guys, we did it!” Stewart said, throwing his hands up in a victory pose. 

“Not gonna Eddie, I liked the twist.” Tiff complimented, a rare thing from her. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Eddie stood up, sweeping an arm across his chest as he bowed. “Give yourselves a round of applause as well, especially for our dear Steven, who just completed his first D&D game!”

A cheer went up, causing Steve to flush red. 

Gareth pretending to drum, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s much the way he had seen Eddie do as Steve sent an embarrassed smile around the room. 

“We should celebrate.” Jeff said, as the chaos finally died down. 

“I conquer, Jeff the Chef!” Eddie hollered, putting his foot on Steve’s chair. “Stevie-boy, you gotta have some good stuff around here for those big basketball wins!” 

“Get your foot off the chair, Eds.” Steve groaned, but stood up (forcing Gareth to get up as well considering how far he’d been leaning into Steve’s space.) “And yeah we can order like pizza.” 

“Pizza and beer?” Grant suggested.

“Oh my friend. I can do better than that.” Steve replied, a flash of his old, charming self coming through. “Allow me to raid my father’s liquor cabinet.” 

“Hell yes!” Grant yelled, pumping his fist. 

Tiffany rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and neither Gareth noted, did anyone else. 

Which was exactly what he wanted, because he hadn’t managed to land the perfect ending he and Harrington had planned. 

Gareth would make it into Steve’s lap tonight, even if it killed him.  

(Or worse, even if Eddie got there first, a thing that may very well happen considering Eddie was clearly annoyed with how Gareth had been hogging Steve. 

Just as intended.) 

SOME NOTES: I don't play d&d so writing it always requires a lot of research. Several pieces here (like the human fighter bit) are based off of/stolen from memes, videos or stories I read. If I fucked it up thaaaan idk squint and pretend its right LOL. 

This one doesn’t have a bonus because I had to split Chapter Five into two parts. This is Part One, it’ll be one chapter on A03.  It just kept going.

Also Adopt a Jock is officially going up ON A03 so I will no longer be accepting tags ( Ch. One is already uploaded I’m just struggling with the summary lol. I will make a post and link it to my pinned post when it’s up.) I will still be updating here since I am only updating chapters on A03 as fast as I can edit them, which is not fast at all, so I imagine the next few chaps will be here before there but eventually shits gonna even out, so those who did not get onto the tag list can subscribe to the A03!  

Finally, Sorry this took so long, I have a prior ongoing medical issue and getting laid off fucked up my insurance. Had to cram in some procedures before it ran out. Long story short all I've done is sleep, go to a doctor or rant about one of the two lmao. Legit slept 18 hours yesterday ahaha k i l l m e 

#this is more of an intro to lap wars than lap wars itself #but Part Two turns into Drunk Movie Night Sleepover Time so you bet your ASS lap wars is coming #Gareth continues to be both a gremlin #and a g #steddie #pre steddie #slow burn #steddie LOL #gareth emerson #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #this chapter fought me #ngl I actually extended this whole fic out bc I wanted to write more hellfire shenanagins before the summer hit #and thus Robin and the S3 plot that I'll be messing up LOL

[velv-serum]

based off from halfway to normal : astraltrain <33 i won’t say this on my insta but that fic made me cry ion even know why

#it was cute #skk fic #bungo stray dogs fanart #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai #femzai #fem dazai #trans #?? #idk what to tag this #i wish i put more effort w the doodles but lowkey burning out #i love astraltrain sm #top 3 writers n they r one of them #fanfic

[kanansdume]

I've recently been watching these very interesting Star Wars video essays on YouTube (yeah I know, a rare breed) and it brings up these comments Lucas has made about how he views Star Wars as almost like a silent film in terms of how important the visuals are to him in comparison to the dialogue. But this essay also points out how important Lucas finds all of the "rhyming" moments in his trilogies and the way he utilizes them to remind you of something else for emotional or thematic reasons. And there's so many of them, both in visuals and in dialogue, and it's interesting to consider how important this is to him, the repetition for a purpose as well as the storytelling through visuals above everything else and then to look at Star Wars since the Prequels came out and realize how little has really been able to match up to those ideals since then.

The ONLY thing that's come out since the Prequels that I think really hits these two things the same way is, in fact, Andor. One of the things I noticed about the way people discussed Andor as it was airing in a way I haven't really seen for any of the other shows or films was the visual SYMBOLOGY. So many times I saw people noticing the Imperial cog everywhere, from the aerial shot of Narkina 5 as the prisoners escape to the architecture of Mon Mothma's house. There were people picking up on the use of items in Luthen's shop that are familiar from other things to give this idea that Luthen is from another time, he's attempting to preserve this world he lost, that if you're not looking closely enough you won't notice what he's really saying or doing with this shop. The color choices for the different locations and people got analyzed because the people involved spoke about how they intentionally utilized color to SEND A MESSAGE about the characters and the world. We know that the people who made the costumes and sets really worked hard to treat Star Wars almost like a period drama and study the history of the franchise as if it were a real place so that the things they came up with felt like they belonged in this world everyone knows so well even if it's completely new. And of course there were all of the myriad references to things from Rogue One, the constant repetition of "climb", the sunset on the beach, etc.

Nearly EVERY SHOT in this show was created with so much intention behind it in order to say something meaningful about the characters, the world, this specific story they're in, and the overall saga of Star Wars itself. It's insane how much greater impact this show was able to achieve through the incredibly careful usage of visual symbols and thematic repetitions, much like Lucas did before them. It feels like they didn't just study the history of the galaxy far far away, but they studied the history of STAR WARS and what Lucas was trying to do and say with this story. They peeled back his onion a bit more and were able to create something that really has that same visual feel even when it's not created for a child audience. It also is experimenting with its narrative style through its structure and through Cassian's character being allowed to be somewhat more reactive than proactive, and while that didn't work for everyone, it does feel like it's following in Lucas's footsteps of experimentation through Star Wars. Push the boundaries of what Star Wars is and can be and what you can say with it.

But this only works because they peeled the onion back enough to TRULY understand all of the messages Lucas was sending with it. They got the heart of Star Wars and despite its lack of space wizards, despite the lack of most major characters in the Saga, this was a show that honestly got the message more than just about anything else Star Wars has put out since the Prequels. The choices between selflessness and selfishness, the themes about how you always HAVE to make a choice even when it feels like you don't have any (sometimes ESPECIALLY when it feels like you don't have any), and how important it is to make sure to choose the path of compassion above everything else. The themes of connection to others, the symbiotic circle and the impact even the smallest person can have on world around them, it's RIGHT THERE and it's CENTRAL to Andor's storyline.

So yes, it experiments a little with narrative structure, but it's possibly the most Star Wars thing to exist Revenge of the Sith because it honestly truly GETS what Star Wars was about, both in its themes and in its filmmaking. A lot of people said that Andor didn't feel like Star Wars to them, usually because of the lack of space wizards and the fact that it's not a story aimed at children. But to me, Andor is EXACTLY what Star Wars is and has always been. They're stretching the boundaries of what Star Wars can be, but it's saying the exact same things Star Wars has always said, it's just saying it slightly differently. This doesn't feel like fanfiction to me, not really. Unlike things like the Mandoverse or the books, Andor isn't just taking some of the toys out of the sandbox and going to play with them somewhere else. Andor is IN that sandbox. It's building a slightly different sandcastle, but it's still within the sandbox, using the same sand that Lucas did.

#star wars #andor #star wars andor #i GET why some people feel like andor isn't star wars #but quite honestly that feels like not just a superficial reading of andor but a superficial reading of star wars as a whole #the only other show to come anywhere near andor's level was the obi-wan kenobi show #there's tons of visuals that are intended to link back to both the pt and the ot #from obi-wan and leia's costumes to things like the fire obi-wan is burned in and that flashback scene #i'm placing andor above owk still because i think andor takes it an extra level higher but owk is also in that sandbox #owk just got stuck with the fucking volume and the disadvantage of going from a movie to a miniseries #but it did far better with those disadvantages than just about anyone else and still told a VERY star wars style story #the fact that it feels like the prequels is exactly why everyone hated it #and it's exactly why i loved it and think it's the 2nd best thing to come out of star wars since rots #i'll give 3rd place to rebels since it tries once or twice to do some visual and dialogue repetition #but those kinds of things aren't something i see analyzed about rebels all that much tbh #everything else is just fanfic that made a profit #some of it is really BAD fanfic that thinks a cameo is the same as a visual motif. it's not. they suck. stop doing them.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • II

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 10k

Warnings: smut 18+ (unprotected, pls wrap b4 u tap), fem!receiving, explicit language, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, alcohol, smoking

Authors note: Chapter Two: One of Us is Broken Glass - welp this took a turn I did not plan! lol. Also sorry its so long, and if its a little messy, i tried to get it out as fast as I could! songs are One of Us by the world alive and Broken glass by unprocessed ;)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! &lt;;3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerants @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @melinacchss-blog @cncohshit

“This is LAPD!”A loud voice boomed from the other side of the door, the doorknob turning, attempting to open.

“Shit,” Noah mumbled, looking around the hallway frantically. He stood up, searching for something before he stared down at me, an idea clicking in his mind. Noah tore his sweater off, along with his black tank top underneath, leaving him shirtless before me.

“What the hell are you doing!” I whisper-yelled, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Kiss me,” He said, kneeling in front of me again, complete distress and fear glazing over his eyes.

“Excuse me?” I now yelled, a little too loud as the door below us rattled again.

“LAPD! Open up!”

“I need you to kiss me, please,” Noah’s eyes bore into my own as he begged, “Trust me, just this once, please Y/N.”

NOAH

As I walked down the sidewalk, my earbuds blaring, I scoped the houses Y/N and I walked by earlier. Some of them still had lights on despite how late it was, so I decided to keep walking further until I found a cul de sac, splayed with townhouses. I pulled the ski mask over my head, tucking the bottom of my hair into the back of my hoodie. Tightening the backpack straps around my shoulders, my eyes scanned each house, looking through the outsides until I landed on one right at the top. A lamp dimly lit the living room, and as I walked by, I could hear a cat crying at the door. Usually, I avoided houses with lights, but I felt drawn to this one. Was it the cat? I was always a fan of them.

As I approached the front door and checked for cameras, I listened to the feline crying on the other side. When I placed my hand on the knob and turned it, the cat immediately trilled in greeting.

No one is home, and the cat is waiting for their owner. Jackpot.

I sighed to myself, deciding that this was the house I’d chosen tonight. Maybe, I could squeeze in some cat-petting dopamine before the trail of guilt sets in.

Unzipping my backpack, I pulled out the metal tools and got to work on the lock. I took my phone out of my pocket and began timing myself. The only way I found I could make this enjoyable for me was by trying to see how fast I could pick a lock.

Placing the tension wrench through the keyhole, I twisted, finding the lock turned to the right. I slid the pick through, applying light pressure, listening and feeling for the springs to determine the correct combination. Switching the pick for the rake, I listened as the pins dropped, increasing the pressure on the tension wrench. Twisting, the lock clicked, and I was in.

“Twenty-eight seconds,” I hummed to myself, nodding in approval. New record.

I turned the knob, entering. The cat meowed as if he was waiting for me, immediately purring as it slithered between my legs, head rubbing along my pants, tail wrapping around my ankle. It was massive for a cat, an ashy orange with white spirals trailing its body. Kneeling I scratched its head, flipping the collar between my covered fingers.

“Juice,” I laughed to myself, what a cute name for an Orange cat. He trilled again, meowing loudly at the attention, pushing his head into my hand. At least I’m going to assume it is a him.

Standing up I quickly got to work, unsure of how much time I had. I pulled my flashlight out of my bag and walked into the living room. As I was about to turn off the lamp, just so no one could see inside, I looked at the walls, various band posters plastered across the light green paint. My eyes skimmed over the sleep token one that hung above the couch.

My thoughts immediately trailed back to Y/N, her smile lighting up my mind.

Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear

Shaking the lyrics out of my head, I took it for a coincidence, before looking through various drawers. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I decided to look around for a bathroom to search for any medications I knew would make money. Walking around the first floor I found a guest bathroom before I decided to head upstairs to search. There was one right away and I opened the medicine cabinet, almost cheering when I found various prescription bottles. Diazepam, Adderall, Zolpidem, and even cough syrup, Dextromethorphan. Jackpot for me, but I feel bad for whoever has to take these.

I threw the bottles into my bag, before walking to the nearest bedroom. Juice followed me around, meowing loudly at my presence. I tried shushing him, but he remained persistent.

I pushed open the bedroom door and was met with the sweet scent of perfume, which was extremely familiar. I couldn’t place my finger on where I recognized it from.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked around, unsure where to go first before my eyes landed on a collection of polaroids taped above the oak wooden bed. Walking towards them, I almost jumped in shock at the women smiling in each photo, my stomach falling. This is Y/N’s house.

No fucking way. Out of every single house I could have gone to I broke into hers. What the fuck kind of strings is fate trying to pull?

I needed to get out now, there was no way in hell I wanted her to catch me here. I can’t just threaten her with a gun. I wanted to get to know her, and if I scare her there’s no way I could pretend it wasn’t me.

Guiltily, I took one last look around her room, looking for anything valuable I could quickly grab before belining it out of there; I still had a job to do. As I turned I heard someone open the front door. My hand covered my mouth in shock, heart racing.

“Juice?”

It was her, I memorized the upturn of her words. Fuck.

Looking around the room frantic, I debated where I was going to hide. Closet? Bathroom? Under the bed?

“Juju baby? Where are you?”

I listened to Y/N’s footsteps as she walked back towards the kitchen, and I took this as my opportunity to walk across the room. The floor creaked under me and I swore to myself again- she heard that; there was no way I would make it to the bathroom.

Juice watched intently from the corner of the room, staring at the door with wide, curious eyes. It was way too quiet below; Y/N must be listening. Juice’s eyes snapped towards the door as soon as he heard the damp creak of Y/N walking up the stairs. I squeezed my eyes shut as Juice ran out of the room, my chest pounding with anxiety. I slid behind the closet door.

The hallway light flickered on and my breath caught in my throat, Y/N screamed before a cautious laugh escaped her lips.

“Jesus Christ cat, you scared the absolute shit out of me!”

Oh my god, what the hell am I going to do?

Juice ran into the room, causing me to jump as he landed on the bed, watching the closet with wide eyes. He meowed as Y/N entered. I needed to get out of here.

“What? Are you hungry? Your bowl is literally full,” she said, and I watched her shake her head as she began to pull her sweater over her head; now was my chance to bolt out.

I slid out of the closet door while her eyes were covered, and as I was about to walk past Y/N she threw her sweater into the hamper; she would turn around any second. Without thinking I panicked, grabbing her from behind, sliding my hand over her mouth to cover any noise.

Her screams were dampened through my glove, and before she could squirm away I wrapped my arm around her torso, holding her firmly against me. Why the fuck didn’t I just run? Why did I think this was a good idea?

With a racing heart, I turned her around to face the mirror, maybe she would see I didn’t mean any harm.

I watched as tears fell from her face, my heart aching as she whimpered when her eyes snapped between my own and the gun.

But of course, she’s going to think you’ll harm her you dumb fuck, you’re a masked vigilante with a goddamn gun.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said gently, my voice trembling. I was going to run as soon as I let go, and she would never know it was me; and all would be ok because I would delete her number and never see her again… right?

Y/N stared at me, her body shaking beneath my arms. I held her closer, squeezing instinctually as a form of comfort; but I knew she was anywhere but in solace.

“I’m going to leave, and you’re going to let me. Understood?” I said, sucking in a deep breath as I closed my eyes, preparing myself to book it down the stairs, and out of the house forever.

“Please don’t scream,” I made my last request, loosening my grip on her body. As I pulled myself apart to free her from my cage, Y/N turned around, kicking me with extreme force.

Fuck! I groaned and my hands wrapped around myself protectively as I fell over. My body clenched in pain as I hung my head. Y/N ran out of the room and it took everything in me to get out and follow her; there was no way I was getting out of here without her finding out.

“You fucking followed me you creep!” Y/N screamed, anger seething from her tongue. She held the knife towards me as I crawled out of the room, “You’re a fucking lowlife, get out of my house or I’m calling the cops-”

My eyes locked onto hers, her E/C eyes piercing me with disgust.

“Noah.”

I felt my chest clench and I closed my eyes; she said my name with complete hatred radiating off of every syllable. How did she know it was me? I wasn’t wearing any of the same clothes, and my tattoos weren’t visible.

“I swear to god I had no idea this was your house,” tears brimmed my eyes as I stood up, bracing myself on her door. Pain shot through my crotch as I folded over myself.

“Please Y/N, don’t call the cops,” I begged.

“Why shouldn’t I call the cops!” She screamed towards me, tears falling from her face. Y/N grabbed her phone, dialling who I assumed was 9-1-1, and my stomach fell once again in complete fear. She can’t call the cops- I can’t get caught.

I pleaded one more time, but Y/N pressed the button, and I listened to the faint ring.

They can’t catch me or I’ll lose everything. I’ll lose my brothers, and I won’t be able to fix what I fucked up. Jolly will be so disappointed in me if I’m caught, who else will help Ruffilo and Folio pay off our debts? Who else will stop D if I’m locked up?

Thoughts raced through my mind as I panicked, chest heaving and before I could even think, my hand reached once again for the judgement between my waistband.

Y/N’s face paled, her lips parted as she stared at the gun in terror. I have never seen anyone more afraid in my entire life. Not even the woman from yesterday compared to how Y/N stood frozen, before my threat.

“Hang up,” I whispered, my mouth completely dry from trepidation, “Y/N, hang up, please.”

Y/N spiralled into a panic attack, losing her ability to breathe. Once she calmed down we sat for a moment, before loud knocks erupted from the front door.

“This is LAPD!”

“Shit,” I mumbled, looking frantically. Usually, when you call 9-1-1 and don’t answer the call back they’ll send someone to check your location, to make sure you're okay. I didn’t think they’d come this fast.

Y/N looked between the door and me, wiping the smeared lipstick off of her face.

Do I hide? Do I surrender?

My gaze trailed between her eyes and her red lipstick. Smeared lipstick. My mind raced quickly for a solution, the pounding on the door pulsing through me.

Lipstick can smear when kissing intensely. Kissing intensely implies making out. Perhaps we were making out and she buttdialled 9-1-1. If I get her lipstick on my face it’ll be believable. Then I won’t get caught.

I removed my sweater and tank top to provide the illusion that we were ready to make our souls one. Please do this for me Y/N. Please.

+++++

Y/N

Noah pulled away, frantically, and I watched as the lipstick I wore was smeared over his lips.

“Answer the door with me- pretend we were making out.”

I stared at Noah in disbelief, scoffing. This fucker was mad.

His doe brown eyes implored into my own, “I will tell you everything if you do this for me. Everything about me, everything I can say.”

I watched as his eyes trailed over my face in hopelessness, begging for an answer. I nodded quickly, and Noah grabbed my wrist, pulling me down the stairs.

Noah wrapped his fingers in my belt loop, tugging me beside him; he then opened the door, revealing our deceit to the uniformed man who stood ahead.

“Hi officer?” Noah asked in a confused tone, panting his chest heavily, all for show.

“Evening,” the man at the door darted his eyes between the two of us quizzically.

Noah pulled me into him, wrapping his arm around me. Playing into it I gave the officer a puzzled look, placing my hand on Noah’s chest with false admiration.

“Uh- we received a phone call from this location, we wanted to check in to make sure everyone is alright.” He eyed me suspiciously. Noah must have noticed, so he held me closer. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. I fit into him like I was always meant to be there, our bodies the perfect ratio. The amenity I felt as I rested beside his body sent shivers down my spine; I shouldn’t be feeling this way when he had just broken into my house.

The officer skimmed over my lips before gazing at Noah’s face, analyzing our deception.

“Oh, you did?” Noah furrowed his brows, looking down at me now.

“I didn’t call…” I said, patting my pockets, “My phone is upstairs, one second.”

I ran up the stairs and grabbed my device, before looking at the call log.

“Oh shit,” I laughed, fabricating a smile up at Noah, pushing myself back into his side, “I must’ve butt dialled… when you uhm…”

Noah raised a brow, and I looked between him and the officer, “when you pushed me against the wall,” I whispered the lie through gritted teeth, being loud enough just for the man at the door to hear.

Noah’s lips splayed into a sly smile, before he winked at the officer, “I was away on a trip for three weeks, y’know how it is.”

The officer coughed, looking anywhere but at us now, “Alright well, stay safe you two. Have a great night.”

“Oh, we will, Right babe?” Noah laughed, slapping my ass which caused me to yelp.

“Have a great night officer, sorry again!” I said, pulling Noah’s arm away from the door before shutting it.

Noah closed his eyes as relief filled him, his tense shoulders relaxing. I took a step back, still cautious.

“Now get your shit and leave,” I said, immediately glaring at him, “I never want to see you again.” I wiped my lips, attempting to erase the memory of him from a few minutes ago. His touch branded into me.

“Let me explain,” Noah held out his hands, taking a step towards me. He watched me with so much genuine concern, that I felt my walls breaking down. I took another step back. As much as I wanted nothing more to do with him, my mind raced with innate curiosity at the same time.

“You have five minutes.” I sighed, “Grab your shirt, it’s weird that you’re standing there half-naked.”

Noah nodded, scrambling up the stairs, and pulling his clothes back over his body. I led us into the living room, flopping onto the couch, motioning for him to take a seat next to me.

Noah sat on the opposite side, as far as he could from me, before letting his body sink into the fabric as he closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. We sat in silence for a moment, the Deja Vu of events mirroring our earlier endeavour in the park. This time it was different. I know I reminisced earlier about wanting adventure in my life, but a strange variation of Stockholm syndrome was not on today’s agenda. However, something stirred inside me as I sat beside the vigilante, the man who captured my gaze earlier still pulling at the strings of my perplexed endearment.

“So,” Noah began, staring at the carpet.

“So,” I mimicked, watching him warily, “you don’t strike me as a professional criminal.”

“That’s what makes me good at it I guess.” Noah stifled a laugh. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t follow you,” Noah said, holding his face in his hands, “Like Y/N, the odds are astronomical. I genuinely don’t know the probability of choosing your house out of the rest of the neighbourhood.”

“Why was my house chosen then?” I asked, eyes quizzical.

Noah shrugged, “I don’t know, there isn’t a method. I saw the light on, I heard your cat. I don’t know.”

“Sure,” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest, “maybe one day you’ll admit you’re a fucking stalker.”

Noah shook his head, “are you even hearing me?”

He sat up, leaning over his knees, “I swear to the fucking gods, satan, whoever you want, that I did not know, this was your house. Over the bodies of my dead parents even.”

His eyes bore into mine as he said the last line and my breath hitched in my throat. The pain in his expression caused me to swallow harshly, my heart sinking.

“You have dead parents too?”

Noah licked his lips as his eyebrows furrowed. Snapping his gaze from me he hung over his knees again, staring at the floor.“My mom died from cancer. My dad couldn’t handle it and killed himself. I was only twelve, but I had my best friends who took me in. My brothers.”

My mouth felt dry as I listened to him speak. It made sense to me why he never said sorry in the park when I told him about mine. He knew that sorry’s wouldn’t change the fact they were already dead, and sympathy felt like pity; especially in this case.

“So, what are you doing in my house in the first place?”

Noah looked the other way as he avoided my eyes in shame, “Stealing. Larceny. Theivery. Whatever you’d like to call it. It’s one of the easiest ways to make money on the streets; other than drugs.”

“So you’re a burglar.” I nodded, tightening my smile, “Boy, you really know how to pick ‘em, Y/N.” I mumbled to myself, almost laughing at how comical it sounded.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to.” Noah sat back on the couch now, letting his head rest back against the furniture, the tattoo that crawled around his neck splayed for my eyes, “but we owe a lot of money to a very dangerous man, and this is the only way we can keep up with his requests.”

“Who?” I asked, this newfound information leaving me curious as I tried my best not to stare at the snake that wrapped around his nape.

Noah closed his eyes, “You shouldn’t know; for your safety.”

I gave him a dry laugh, “My safety was long gone the second I agreed to you sitting on my couch.”

“Touche,” Noah hummed, “But that is one thing I won’t tell you.”

“How long have you been… doing this?” I watched him as he turned his head.

“Long enough.”

“How long Noah?” I pried, “If that’s even your name.”

He raised a brow, “that’s my real name. Noah Sebastian if you want specifics.”

Noah Sebastian.

“The grand fuck up, as my friend Jolly likes to call it, started when I was fourteen,” Noah ran his thumb across the tops of his fingers, “Ever since then, we’ve been paying our back monthly.”

“And what’s ‘the grand fuck up’?” I watched as he outlined the letters on his knuckles; I never noticed what they said earlier.

“It was my first job, and Jolly said I needed to do it to become a man- to join the pact.” Noah said, his hazelnut eyes fixated on the letters, “I stole an expensive car, that I guess happened to have something valuable in it. The car belonged to our beloved felon if you will. He caught us and said we could either be killed or work for him. When we pay off the debt we owe, we can be free.”

“We being…” I questioned.

“Me and my three amigos.” Noah said, “I fucked us all over, and it’s been seven years. Seven years and nothing has changed.”

Noah squeezed his eyes closed again, the guilt eating him alive as he held back the tears that brimmed his eyes. My guard began letting go, the urge to wrap my arms around his body and comfort him surging through me.

“What does your tattoo say?” I asked, changing the subject.

Noah looked at his fingers again, blinking rapidly, “Bad omens.”

“Bad omens?”

He held his hands out to me, scooting closer to me. Instinctually I grabbed his hands with my own, surveying the ink that embedded these words into his skin forever.

“An omen is a sign of something to come. Everything that comes my way seems to be bad.” Noah’s eyes trailed my fingers as I began tracing over the letters myself, thinking about his words.

“Then I went to the coffee shop I go to every day and saw you. For once I thought maybe something good could happen,” His uncomfortable snicker snapped my eyes up to meet his, the deep ochre core engrossing me, “but I royally fucked that up, didn’t I?”

I pulled my hands from his, my fingers tingling from our contact.

“You can’t live in bad premonition.” I shook my head, sitting sideways on the couch so I faced the boy in front of me.

“Always have. Always will.” He shrugged, passing a small smile.

My chest ached at his words, the hopelessness reminding me of my past self. If Noah were to have talked to me a year ago, when I was stuck in my shithole of life back home, I would have said the same thing. Life was meaningless, and there was nowhere to go. I had been stuck in a loop of neverending sadness, but I had made it out now. I had worked my ass off to start fresh and begin a new life with my sorrows behind me. It was possible, but Noah was still stuck in his never-ending record, any thoughts of emboldened possibilities untouched and futile.

“At this point, I don’t even feel real; not unless I’m hurting in some way,” He said, the agony behind his voice catching me off guard, “It’s not like I enjoy being in this cycle of pain, but I’m so used to it. I don’t know what to do without it anymore.”

Noah scoffed, looking at his hands again in an attempt to distract his words, “Sometimes I think it would be better to just give up. Maybe I’ll see my dad again.”

I winced as he said that and pulled myself up onto the couch fully, holding my legs to my chest, “What keeps you going?” Tell me more, mysterious man. I’m ready to listen.

“My brothers. I need to help them and fix what I did.”

“Then what? When that’s done?” I pried, invested in his enigmatic words.

Noah’s silence didn’t surprise me as he stared at the ground, his mind capturing him. I wanted to ask him what thoughts ran through his head, but we sat in stillness again, the only sound present was the soft tick of my living room clock. Juice had crawled out of hiding, stalking into the living room. He meowed lightly, jumping onto the couch next to Noah. He sniffed him before rubbing his head along Noah’s sleeve.

“I don’t know.” He finally whispered in a sullen tone, raising his hand to gently stroke Juice’s fur. The hair on my arms raised at his dejected words as I watched Juice fold into his touch, Noah immediately loving on my cat.

“You look like you need a hug,” I surprised myself at my offer, but I stood up, holding my arms open and inviting Noah into my intimate space.

He watched me bewildered, “Huh?”

“Get over here.” I motioned for him to stand, and he hesitated for a moment before getting up.

Noah’s lanky figure approached me, and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling his body towards mine in a protective embrace. I stood on my tiptoes to place my head in the crook of his neck, squeezing his body against my chest. Noah’s breath hitched in his throat as he held himself stiffly before easing his body into our entwined limbs. His arms held me close, his head resting against my own. As his chest shook through his complacency, I breathed deeply, sighing into our hug. Noah joined me in a deep exhale, listening to our breaths as we held onto each other, exchanging memories through our hold.

I’m sorry you lost your parents. I’m sorry you’re stuck. I’m listening.

“You don’t have to carry it all yourself. Humans aren’t made to be solitary creatures.” Boldly, I held my hand against Noah’s head, capturing him and all of his wounds. As I ran my fingers through his hair, Noah’s shoulders began to shake.

Can one of us be saved?

I can't forgive you, but I can't look away I have to tell myself it's better, better this way It's killing me

Soft sobs left his lips, his body vibrating through his tears.

Don't wait for the light Just fall asleep, embrace the night

The man crumbling before me was not a terrible person. He was merely a lost soul, fastened to routine and never-ending affliction. Perhaps, I can be another step to helping him find himself. He reminded me so much of my past; I couldn’t leave him.

Even if I got hurt in the process.

+++++

NOAH

I stood in Y/N’s arms for a few minutes as she squeezed my body reassuringly, continually running her fingers through my locks, pulling pained memories through each stroke, taking pieces of me for herself.

I can’t believe that through the absolute shit storm that was an hour ago, I stood here, sobbing in this woman’s embrace. I didn’t deserve to be treated with such kindness, yet Y/N held me as if we had known each other for years; as if I didn’t just invade all of her privacy and trust.

I haven’t shared my story with someone in a long time. My only family was Ruffilo, Folio and Jolly. They were the only ones who saw me suffer, but the way Y/N held me caused me to completely break down. How someone I met not even 24 hours ago could break down my walls left me baffled; but here I was, completely vulnerable to her touch.

How could she be so kind and selfless? She listened and understood. Her parents were gone too. She knew the feelings of abandonment.

Keep telling myself that I was the victim You were the one that pulled away I've got a cold heart, this is the sad part I don't think I can change

But the difference was that I was corrupt. I was not the good guy; my presence was tainting her.

Can one of us be saved? I feel like I'm better, better in a grave Better in a grave Better in a grave

“What’s the next step from acquaintances?” she tried to lighten the mood, giving me a small laugh.

I pulled away, my body already infected with the remembrance of her touch against my limbs. I wiped my eyes, face reddening at the embarrassment. I can’t believe I just cried on some girl’s shoulder. She was no longer just some girl.

“I mean, I don’t know if we should even be considered friends. I broke into your house.” I scoffed, wiping my nose with my hoodie sleeve as I sniffed.

“What about acquaintance-squared?” Y/N said, “I think now that I know you’re not just Noah, we’ve upgraded.”

I laughed, “Level two friendly strangers?”

Y/N joined me, the sound that left her body angelic. Part of me wanted to listen to her melody forever.

I knew then that I was fucked. Her hooks snagged me this morning, but now they were embedded, scars bound to be permanent. There was no way I could just leave her as a forgotten memory as I had thought earlier.

She knew too much.

“Sit down. I’m going to make you something to eat.” Y/N said, smiling kindly. My phone began buzzing in my pocket; I knew it had to be one of the boys.

I immediately shook my head in protest, “No Y/N, I should go.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I don’t deserve your hospitality.” I pulled my phone out and checked the caller ID. It was Ruffilo. 32 missed texts.

Jolly: You alright?

Jolly: Almost done?

Jolly: It’s been almost two hours since I’ve heard anything.

Jolly: You should’ve been done within the first hour.

Jolly: Your location says you’re still there; where are you?

Jolly: Noah answer your fucking phone.

She must’ve noticed the anxiety on my face when I noticed the messages. “Where do you live? At least let me drive you home then?”

I shook my head again, “It’s ok, I’ll walk.”

Y/N looked at the clock in the living room, “It’s three am, Noah. You’re not walking alone at this time.”

I almost scoffed at her worry but refrained, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Y/N, I’ll be okay.”

She scrunched her nose, clearly frustrated at my stubbornness. The pout her lips formed, whether out of tactic or genuine, left my heart racing.

“Noah,” She marched to the front door, grabbing her keys as she slipped on a pair of slippers shaped like cows. I couldn’t help but laugh lightly.

“Let’s go pretty boy.”

“I’m walking,” I stated, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

Y/N furrowed her brows again, the way she glared stirring the butterflies in my stomach. What is going on with me? “You look cute when you’re mad.”

Y/N opened the door, pointing outside, “Oh, you think I’m cute when I’m mad? Then I’m about to be fucking gorgeous if you’re not in my car in 2 seconds.” She seethed.

I held my arms up in defence, chuckling, “Ok, ok. I’m coming.”

Y/N and I sat in her freakishly small silver Chevy Spark, my limbs cramped against the dashboard.

“Could you have gotten a smaller car?” I laughed.

She turned on the heat, before adjusting the music, “I didn’t necessarily plan on having a 6ft tall robber in my passenger seat.”

I rolled my eyes, “Valid point.” The guilt ate at my insides once again. Y/N pressed play, the song blasting through the tiny stereo.

“Address?” She asked, looking at me.

“If you know where the Marlborough Motel is, it’s there.”

Y/N’s face scrunched again, “Like, you live by there?”

I shook my head, “No, we live in the motel.”

Her face fell, and my stomach churned. No, no sympathy.

She nodded, before backing out of the driveway, heading towards our destination. One of us played through the car, the song burning my ears now.

You played the cards, you know I wanted to see Behind the curtain, always pulling the strings in my head

But now I think it's time to cut the ends I won't make the same mistake again

Once she dropped me off, I would leave her behind forever. I had to, for my sanity, and hers.

“I mean, housekeeping must be a blessing?” Y/N said gently, giving me a quaint smile.

“Yes, I enjoy the smell of cheap laundry detergent and a stranger filtering through my stuff.”

She sighed, and I watched the rows of houses and streetlights pass through the window, before closing my eyes. Jolly was going to kill me when I got home; especially now that I got someone else tangled in this mess; and I failed a job. Another screw-up on the checklist. Not to mention I didn’t bring anything back to sell.

As soon as my mind wandered to making no money, I remembered my backpack; and the gun.

The gun and backpack I left at Y/N’s. The one she’s going to see has all of her prescriptions inside of it.

My throat felt tight at the realization, but I swallowed the nerves, reminding myself that I’d never see her again after today. I’ll forget about her, and this. I won’t need to see her disappointment.

You got what you deserved And that was me You saw me at my worst You saw the worst in me

We arrived at the motel and I sighed, realizing the light was still on. No doubt the boys were still up waiting for me. Y/N and I sat quietly for a moment before she turned to look at me.

“Well, level two friendly stranger.” Y/N coughed, the awkwardness filling the tiny vehicle.

I looked at her, smiling softly. She smiled back and my heart winced, the reality sinking in that this would be goodbye. My eyes trailed all over her face, absorbing her features, burning them into my memory. There was no way I could face her again.

“Thanks for this riveting adventure,” She laughed, “This truly was an extremely confusing situation to be in, but I’m glad that you were my first criminal experience.”

Unsure what to say, I tried to joke back, “Thanks for being my favourite victim.”

My own words stung as my thoughts raced over my past felonies, but I suppose she was my favourite victim. If it was even alright to say something fucked up like that.

“I’ll see you for your regular coffee?” She asked, something seeping through her eyes. Hope.

“Yeah.” I gave a stiff laugh, “see you.”

I got out of the car, turning back to wave before I opened the motel door, and my heart yearned. Y/N pulled away. Goodbye.

Tell me that I'm wrong Tell me that I'm wrong

I was immediately pulled into a bone-crushing embrace.

“You have got to be kidding me, you had me fucking worried bro.” Ruffilo squeezed me and I sighed heavily, hugging him back.

“What the fuck? Who was that in the car?” Folio asked, watching out the window before sliding the curtain back over the glass.

“It’s a long story.” I groaned, flopping on the cot once again.

“I don’t care what the story is,” Jolly spoke, his voice filled with anger. I knew the anger was replacing his worry. “What loot did you get?”

“Nothing.” I cowered.

“What?” Folio said, disappointment radiating through him, “You were gone that long and got nothing?”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Jolly laughed, “I thought you got over your little episode from earlier.”

I sat up, looking between each of the boys, “Trust me. I had a fucking great haul. Until I got caught.”

“You didn’t,” Ruffilo said, completely deadpan.

“It’s fine, she won’t say anything,” I reassured them, pulling off my shoes.

“What? Do you suddenly trust some bitch who caught you breaking into her house? How pussy deprived are you?” Jolly snarled, “We are screwed.”

“She drove you home to? So now she knows where we fucking live? You idiot!” Folio yelled, running his fingers through his hair.

“What was the haul?” Ruffilo asked.

I held my head in my hands as I mumbled, “Almost full bottles of Diazepam, Adderall, Zolpidem, and Dextromethorphan.”

All three of them groaned, frustrated.

“Dude that’s thousands of dollars!” Folio yelled, “You should go back and get those if you’re all buddy-buddy now.”

I immediately glared, shooting daggers toward the youngest, “Fuck off. It’s not going to happen.”

“No, Nick’s right,” Jolly said, “That’s a good fucking haul. We could use the extra money right now.”

“I said,” I growled through gritted teeth, “It’s not going to happen.”

I walked towards the bathroom door, slamming it. Holding my head in my hands I groaned in frustration, conflicted and confused. This day couldn’t be real.

I turned the shower on, and stripped off my clothes, letting the water wash away my sins.

I can't forgive you, but I can't look away I walked through fire I was born in the flames

+++++

Y/N

I walked up the stairs when I got home, Juice trailing behind me. I let out an exhale of strife, confused at today’s events. I noticed a backpack sitting in front of my bedroom door, and items inside rattled. Curiously, I opened it, revealing all of my pill bottles.

I stared at the pills for a moment, my chest heaving.

Did he purposefully forget his backpack? Or would he have sold them for money anyway?

I shook the thoughts out of my head, deciding that sleep was my priority as I had to be in for work in four hours.

+++++

The next morning my mind was consumed with the thoughts of last night. Whether it was sleep deprivation, anxiety, or the titillation of Noah. Annika questioned why I was so on edge but I brushed her concern off, reassuring her it was just the lack of sleep.

My heart yearned for some reason, and I knew that despite my obvious infatuation with him, I shouldn't be so caught up on the stranger; especially after learning his criminal lifestyle. However, that just made me even more captivated. Something was different about him, he wasn’t corrupt. He couldn’t be.

I kept watching the door, waiting to see if he would come in.

But he never did.

It wasn’t until 4:30, half an hour before we closed, that the door dinged and my heart lept; turning around hoping that it was the long-haired brunette; but I was surprised to see another set of long hair and tattoos, the man’s onyx locks and silver eyes radiant.

My heart raced to thoughts of Noah; this man was so similar yet so different; but my mind kept going back to his chocolate-brown eyes.

“One large coffee please, one cream and one sugar,” He asked for the same order.

As the man handed me the change I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on his knuckles, and I almost dropped the money; Bad Omen was scrawled above the moon cycle that transpired along each finger.

We watched each other, his eyes boring into me with a sense of understanding as I gave him the cup.

Can one of us be saved? Better in a grave

+++++

NOAH

“So she knows the tattoo?” Nicholas asked as he handed me the coffee. I adjusted my sunglasses, coughing lightly.

“She asked, I answered,” I said, taking a sip. The warm liquid coated my throat as my mind wandered to her image. I wanted to go in myself, but I knew I couldn’t face her again; it was better off this way. She would go her way, I would go mine.

After my shower, I explained everything to Ruffilo. He always listened best, and he was always the most understanding. He was just as surprised at how the events played out.

“She looked so hopeful when she turned around man,” Ruffilo said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets as we walked back towards the motel, “I think she wanted me to be you.”

“I don’t understand why,” I said.

“Because you’re not a bad person. She can see you through whatever guard you’re trying to put up. You were into each other before last night,” Nicholas sighed, “And the fact she still seems interested after either means two things-”

I gave him the side eye, waiting for him to continue.

“-she’s either batshit crazy, or, she sees you past the shit you’ve been through because she gets it,” Nicholas reassured me, and I sighed. He was right. I know Y/N understood certain aspects because she just escaped her own cage; but was I ready to risk everything to see her again? For the chance she forgives me?

Ruffilo looked at his watch, “Shit we gotta get back fast. Jolly and Folio will be back in ten to pick us up before we get to meet with D to drop off the load.”

I nodded, picking up pace as I took another sip of my coffee, “Hopefully they got enough to make up for yesterday’s loss.”

Nicholas touched my shoulder, “Don’t be so hard on yourself brother. You almost got caught and evaded it.”

“I did get caught, just not by the law.” I corrected.

“Ok, but by a pretty lady instead. I’d say win-win.”

I pushed his shoulder, nudging his comment away; but he was right. She is gorgeous. And I was fucking lucky things played out the way they did.

We made it back to the motel, Jolly and Folio already outside loading the car with bags of cash.

“Good haul then boys?” Ruffilo said as he lit a cigarette. We approached them and I eyed the bags; it was almost too much money.

Folio nodded, “We made up last night’s loss, plus extra. Looks like we goin’ out and eatin’ good tonight!” He clapped his hands together before drumming on the hood of the car, the energy radiating from his body.

“How did you get all of this in a couple of hours?” I asked, cautious.

Jolly lit a cigarette as well, hopping in the front seat. We followed suit, and I rolled down the window to prevent the smoke from filling the car. Joints I could handle, cigarettes made my throat burn.

“We robbed a convenience store off of 9th Ave,” Jolly said, “It was the fastest way to get the cash.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching him in the mirror, “Aren’t you the one that says we should always avoid businesses as it is ‘too risky’”.

Jolly scoffed, “Yeah, but I do it well. So I don’t mind taking that risk considering we were thousands behind.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, looking out the window. Today’s meeting with D was the most important; it was the deciding factor of whether or not we would be out of this mess soon.

The ride was quiet until we pulled up to the abandoned warehouse along the pier. Dread filled me immediately as our car was surrounded by various men in black masks, machine guns hanging from their arms.

“Out with your hands up,” the voice of the guard rattled from outside the car, loud enough but dampened from the mask he wore.

The four of us got out with our hands raised, used to the standard procedure.

“Gentlemen!” The familiar voice boomed from down the pier, and I shivered as his shadow approached, the silver blonde hair glistening in the evening moonlight, “What have you brought me this month?”

“Roughly thirteen thousand,” Jolly said as the masked guards rummaged through our car, opening up the duffle bags.

D’s eyes were sharp as they danced between us, scanning the crowd as if he were taunting his prey. He clicked his tongue in distaste.

“I thought we agreed upon fifteen thousand this month.”

Jolly almost lunged at the man, but he clenched his fists, remaining still, “No, we agreed on twelve. You’re lucky we got the extra thousand and didn’t keep it for ourselves.”

D chuckled darkly, his teeth snarling into an evil grin, “Oh, I’m lucky, eh?”

He walked closer to us, his body fully on display, arms crossed behind his back, “I would say you should be lucky that I’m willing to let you get away with this, for a price.”

“We did what you asked,” Jolly growled, “We shook on twelve.”

D smiled, raising his brow, “and yet, you brought thirteen.”

Jolly stayed silent and the three of us watched as the man ahead marched between our bodies, encasing us in his trap once again.

“I expect twenty thousand next month. You’re clearly capable of bringing in more.”

My eyes widened, snapping towards the boys in complete shock.

“Twenty?” I exclaimed, my eyebrows raised in disbelief, “How the fuck are we supposed to get twenty? We get closer and closer to getting caught every day by you raising the price.”

D cackled, “We wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for you young Noah, so why don’t you grow a pair and come up with different ways to earn money then, huh?”

“We can’t get twenty,” Ruffilo stated, shaking his head in a plea.

“Why don’t we make it twenty-four?” D clapped his hands together, giving us a broad, sickening smile I wanted to punch off of his fucking face.

“Twenty is fine.” Jolly gritted his teeth.

“That’s my boy,” D waltzed over to Jolly, patting his back. Jolly revolted against his touch, leaning away through D’s false camaraderie, “But I do have some good news for you.”

My ears peaked at his promise.

“Next month your debt will be paid. This twenty will cover the costs.”

I had to restrain myself from audibly cheering, but my eyes met Ruffilo’s as we shared a silent celebration, my heart hammering against my chest. Is this it? Just twenty thousand more, and we will be free?

“However there is one condition,” D said in a sly, playful tone, slowly stepping towards me before eying me, chest to chest.

He stared at me intensely, and I watched back, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Noah is the only one that can pay me back. No help. Only Noah’s work.”

+++++

As soon as we got into the car, tears of anger streamed down my face. This had to be a dream. Why the fuck couldn’t I wake up.

“The four of you will wear trackers. That way I know Noah’s alone when he gets the cash, and brings it to me at the end of each week.”

The boys remained silent the whole way, Nicholas giving me sympathetic glances every so often.

“One final test to see if you’ve really learned your lesson, pretty boy.”

I punched the headrest in front of me, anger seeping through my veins. Pretty boy.

“I think we could all use a drink.” Jolly sighed, turning the car into the parking lot of a local bar. Sammy’s.

The boys got out of the car and I lingered there for a moment, squeezing my eyes shut as my chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Life was a literal bad omen.

I opened the door, slamming it forcefully as I pulled my hood over my head, following the boys into the bar. I avoided the crowd, sliding into the booth Jolly led us to, leaning into the wall.

“What do you want Noah?” Ruffilo asked.

“Tequila,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. At least that would numb the pain for a bit, “Hennesey.”

“Shouldn’t mix that but ok,” Ruffilo said, standing up to grab the drinks; as he turned he hesitated, “Uh, Noah-”

I looked up at him, removing my hood in curiosity before my gaze slipped to the woman past him, standing behind the counter.

Y/N stood there, a tight black tank top wrapped around her delicate body, short shorts riding just below her ass. The fanny pack across her waist and name tag were the cherry on top; because there was no fucking way she worked here.

Her mouth hung open slightly as we stared back at each other, my cheeks turning a faint pink as she tucked her H/C hair behind her ear, replacing her shock with a smile that lit up her gentle, imploring eyes.

I looked up at Ruffilo who just shook his head in shock, “I don’t know man but somethings telling me you’re meant to know her.”

“That’s Y/N?” Folio asked, a low whistle leaving his lips.

“How do you know about her?” I gritted my teeth, leaning over the table in a whisper before glancing at Nicholas, “You told them?”

“They needed to know,” Ruffilo said, shaking his head again before walking up to the bar.

“She’s gorgeous, I’ll give you that.” Jolly nodded in approval, eying the woman as she talked to Ruffilo, her eyes darting back towards me.

I kept looking back at her until my ears flushed and I turned away, leaving her gaze to burn holes into my skin.

“Now what?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair, twisting the ends nervously.

“Go say hi you fucking idiot,” Folio exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re both ogling at each other, so go do it over there.”

I blew out a puff of air, pulling myself out of the booth. I walked towards Ruffilo and Y/N, her face lighting up as soon as she watched me approach them.

“Why do you keep following me?” I eyed her playfully, sitting on the stool in front of the counter. Nicholas pushed the tequila shot and cup of hennesey towards me.

I downed the liquor in one go, closing my eyes as the gentle burn ran down my throat, savouring the taste of ignorance.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Y/N laughed lightly, grabbing the empty glass, “But at the same time I don’t think I am either.”

“Something keeps bringing us back together,” I snorted, downing the glass of the brown liquor now, its ember fire dancing across my tastebuds, “I have a feeling I’m supposed to get to know you.”

Nicholas left with three beers, leaving me and Y/N alone.

Y/N played with her hair again, tucking it behind her ears, “It’s quite strange.”

I nodded, “Can I get two more shots?”

Y/N lined up the glasses, pouring the liquor into them. I downed it again, sighing heavily.

“You got your friend to get your coffee this evening?” Y/N asked now, colour rising to her face as she warmed, almost like she was embarrassed at noticing my lack of presence.

“I’m surprised you’re talking to me after finding what was in my bag.” I laughed, my vision starting to blur. It’s been a while since I’ve drank, and my tolerance must have lowered.

She poured me another, as If I had asked with my eyes, and smiled gently, “You didn’t take it back with you though. You left it behind.” Not sure it was quite on purpose, but I’m glad she thinks so.

“Those guys are your gang?” She nodded her head towards Jolly, Folio, and Ruffilo. I turned, and they immediately looked away, pretending they weren’t watching our entire interaction unfold. My ears began ringing as the alcohol consumed me, the song playing above us getting louder.

I carry your heart around Like a child that has just been born I try not to let you down And I try not to show my thorns

“Those are my brothers.” I nodded, resting my head on the wooden counter, and closing my eyes in defeat.

“Noah… are you ok?” Y/N placed her hand gently on my own, and my body warmed.

You can run but cannot hide If we fail, then at least I tried To save your soul from becoming hurt and scared

“Yes,” I whispered, lying through my lips. Y/N came around the counter, reaching for me full of compassion. She hugged me again and I leaned into her touch.

I pretend that things are alright I can comfort you and hold you tight

My lies didn’t go past her, “I can go on my break now. Want to talk about it?”

I sat up, staring at her through dizzy lenses, my body vibrating from the alcohol that coursed through me.

Standing now I grabbed her wrist, tugging her with me towards the washrooms.

“Noah,” She whispered as we turned the corner, away from public eyes.

To love you feels like Walking on broken glass

I know I didn’t deserve someone like Y/N in my life. The kindness and compassion she showed me, a stranger, or as she claimed, level two acquaintance, left me baffled.

But I knew that she was meant to be somewhere in my life. The strings pulled by fate led me to her, even in this short amount of time.

The alcohol offered me courage to pull her against me, holding her in my arms. I clung to her body, breathing her in, feeling the way her warm skin felt against my merciless hands.

“Why do I feel like I can tell you anything?” I hiccuped, looking down at her. Y/N peered at me through her lashes before resting her head against my chest, “Why do I trust you?”

She laughed, holding onto me, “Why do I trust you?”

My hands ran across her back, fingernails trailing across her delicate S/C skin, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m your type.”

Y/N laughed again, smiling up at me, “Oh, ok, sure.”

“I met you for a reason,” I said as I swayed with her against me. Drunk words were sober thoughts as they said.

“Maybe,” She said.

“T-there’s no other ex-explanation,” I stuttered, closing my eyes as the liquor consumed me. All I could feel was her warmth against me as my heart raced. I let my hand trail up her arm, cupping her chin as I lifted her to face me.

Will you carry my heart around When it's old and grey? Will you stay until we fade away?

As our eyes spoke to each other, my body instinctually leaned down, pulling her towards me. Our lips brushed each other for a moment, and although I knew this was a bad decision, I couldn’t care less. Y/N stood on her tiptoes, reaching up as she pushed her lips into mine. My hands slid across her back, holding her protectively against me as my heart hammered.

I kissed her lips hungrily, my mind dancing to a thousand dirty images, unsure whether it was the alcohol, the fact I hadn’t been with a woman in ages, or that it was Y/N.

I allowed my hands to slide down to her thighs, clawing at the skin before sliding them underneath the bottom of her shorts.

“Noah-” she breathed out, pulling away, unsure.

“Bathroom,” I said lowly, pushing her towards the door. She followed, and as soon as we were inside I locked the door, lifting her up onto the counter, inviting myself between her legs.

I gnawed on her bottom lip as her fingers began running through my hair, pulling me towards her. Our tongues met, and I couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. I was unsure where this was going, but all I could think about was taking her right here, right now. Hormones taking over, my need for pleasure begging to erase the pain.

“I want to fuck you against this counter-top.” I said, running my fingers across her neck gently.

She moaned at my words and into my kiss, pulling away, “I don’t know if this is a good idea-” She began, but my fingers tugged at her belt loop, pulling her hips against mine as I bared my own into hers.

“One time,” I whispered, placing my forehead against hers as my chest heaved heavily from our kiss, “One time to forget the pain.”

It would never just be one time.

Y/N’s eyes bore into mine, before she fluttered them closed, nodding as she pulled me in for another kiss. A new warmth washed over me as I got even harder, the familiar feeling of excitement preparing my body for Y/N’s.

I pulled at her shorts, tugging them down, and exposing Y/N’s underwear. She sat on the counter and a guttural groan escaped from my throat as I watched as her legs spread, just for me.

This was so fucked up, but I don’t care.

I trailed my hands across her skin and slid into her panties, allowing my fingers to run along her already slick folds, internally begging to replace my digits with my heat that longed to be touched.

I kissed her again, sliding my fingers inside of her, causing Y/N to gasp lightly as my thumb traced her along her core, dancing along her desire.

Lust filled my senses as I pulled away, “Is this okay?” I said, tugging my jeans down to free myself. Y/N watched through hooded eyes as she nodded desperately.

“Please, fuck me, Noah.” She begged, pushing herself onto the edge of the counter.

I spit into my hand and Y/N watched attentively, following my every move as my body shivered as I rubbed along himself, before positioning against her entrance. We shared eye contact again and she nodded in approval before I pushed inside, my body immediately shuddering as Y/N moved her hips against mine.

I sighed deeply, squeezing my eyes closed briefly as Y/N’s warm body enveloped me.

I will never forget the day Our souls became one And I know there's a secret We've been Swallowing Lying so passionately

Her forehead creased as she concentrated on the sensations of my body inside of her, soft gasps leaving her throat as my hips rolled into hers. I watched her, studying her expressions as best I could through my inebriated state.

I held her thighs, digging my nails into the sides as she clenched around me, a moan escaping her. I quickly covered her mouth with my hand, memories from earlier flashing back when I held her against me in her bedroom.

“Don’t make a sound,” I said, her eyes widening before becoming hooded again, infatuation evident in her expression, “I wouldn’t want you to get fired.”

Y/N almost whined in protest, the erotic sounds begging to release from her chest. My body spun in euphoria, the sensation around her amorous and ardent. My forehead puckered as I tried my best to keep myself going, but I knew I was close. Alcohol did not give me the greatest stamina.

“Come for me Noah,” She whispered through my hand, and my body shuddered at her pleas.

I gripped her hips, pulling her roughly against me as I fucked out my depression, letting the elation keep me ignorant. Pounding into her body I let myself finally release, pulling out as I stroked myself, spilling onto her stomach.

My breathing was heavy, before I kneeled on the ground, kissing up Y/N’s thigh, and she watched me, confused.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“It’s your turn princess,” I reached her core, pulling her hips towards me as I placed my mouth onto her, sucking on the delicate skin. Y/N covered her mouth with one hand, the other tangling into my scalp as she rubbed herself along my face.

I licked through her folds, savouring the taste her body created, feasting on what I knew was meant to be mine. Even intoxicated, I knew what I was doing.

“Fuck Noah,” She whispered, panting as she threw her head back into the mirror, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“Oh my god don’t stop.” She moaned, and I obliged, giving her everything I could.

“Come Y/N,” I said between sucking, and squeezing her hips, “be a good girl for me.”

Her legs began to vibrate, her mouth open, sound unable to escape as she shook through her orgasm. I didn’t stop until she physically pushed me away, shallow breaths leaving her lips.

I grabbed her chin, pulling her lips to mine, begging her to taste herself from my tongue.

Life had broken her; just as it had broken him. But when they got together, their pieces became whole. And they started on their journey, together, mended as one. - Steve Maraboli

Chapter three

#burning out fanfic #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #noah sebastian smut #smut #bad omens smut

[hood-ex]

Cass looks like a vampire

Nightwing #106

#dick is buff as fuck in this art style #and he's teaching cass how to make pancakes after she taught him a move so hmmm hmmmmm honestly i'm not mad at it #feels kinda off. like halfway between a fanfic story and what their relationship could've progressed to in canon #tt's story today was also alright other than that dumb joke about the ambulance #i like that ric mentioned that his memory wasn't good and that he lost minutes or days #that's def a continuation from the ric arc where ric said that he'd just black out sometimes #see i appreciate continuity details like that #buuuut ric keeping the letter that the guy gave him... lol it's just kinda funny since he torched the whole nightwing bunker #like oh yeah i'll save this letter for the old me in case he comes back but at the same time i'll burn everything old me had #Dick Grayson #Cassandra Cain #tuesday spoilers

[thetomorrowshow]

Joel thinks it’s stupid, really.

Once they figure it out.

Soulmates, Grian messages them all. I think it’s soulmates.

Which makes sense, with the random pains shooting through his legs that he feels on occasion. He’s sharing a life with someone—or, three lives—and they feel each others’ pain.

Which is dumb. Because Joel doesn’t need or want a soulmate, and he doesn’t care much for the idea of having to share his life with someone and make sure they’re safe. He’s not here to be babysitting another player.

That’s what he would be doing, he’s sure. Babysitting someone. Not that everyone would be, of course—there are some players that he knows instantly will be paired up, because if such a thing as real soulmates exist, they would be them. Grian and Scar. Scott and Jimmy. Bdubs and Etho.

No one for him.

No one for Joel because he’s always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he’s been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he’s been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian’s side at the end of things, but he’s never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want another player going through his things, walking through his space, just being near him when he’s angry and needs time alone to cool off.

But there’s a morbid curiosity, he supposes. Because he can’t help but wonder who on earth the universe would think to pair him with.

So every person he sees, he socks in the arm (and if he hits a little harder than is considered friendly, he can blame it on adrenaline).

He actually witnesses a soulmate pair find each other before he finds his own.

And, strangely, it’s Bdubs and Impulse.

For a moment, he thinks that can’t be right—he can envision Bdubs with Etho, or Cleo, but not Impulse. And while Impulse is easygoing enough, Bdubs is a wildcard. Impulse’s sense of order is going to be completely upturned by Bdubs and his harebrained ideals.

Maybe. It’s not like Joel actually knows either of them very well.

And then they’re all mining together, and Etho trips.

And Joel feels his knees sting.

-

Joel doesn’t want to settle down anywhere, at all ever, but after a bunch of fooling around with Grian and Scar (soulmates, just as he’d predicted, of course), he starts. . . .

Not laying down roots. He really ought to get something started, just like everyone else, but that’s just it: everyone else has something started. Everyone else has planted crops and fenced in some animals and set out to get building blocks.

Prime opportunity for raiding some new farms, and to his surprise, Etho absolutely agrees.

For a moment, Joel can forget that they’re linked—he’s just hanging out with a group of friends, laughing at Jimmy, stealing a bit of wheat when nobody’s looking, the norm. Then Etho takes an absurd amount of damage—Joel definitely doesn’t fall back against the crafting table they’ve set up for making armor, definitely doesn’t gasp and clutch at his chest, like he can stop his heart from leaping out of it—and he’s rather rudely reminded that his life isn’t solely his own.

Oh, he hates this already.

Etho calls an apology, but Joel can’t see him through the woods—if they die here and it’s Etho’s fault, he’s never going to forgive him, soulbond or no—so he heads forward, only to find Etho panting beside an enderman in a boat.

“Tricky getting him to walk into it,” Etho says offhandedly, and this could be ender pearls for them if they play their cards right.

Ender pearls are perfect for quick escapes, and if they decide to go with Scar’s absolutely insane plan of trying to take over that outpost, he and Etho are going to need an escape.

He swings with his axe at the angry creature. Easy. Easy pearls, the thing stuck in the boat like a sitting duck.

And then he swings again.

And he hits the boat.

Within seconds, he’s dead.

It’s dark at spawn, and Joel can barely keep from crying in frustration. The enderman had been in the blummin’ boat! All he had to do was hit it a couple of times and they were set!

“I’m so sorry, Etho,” he says, and he hates it. He hates that he has to say that.

He’d been worried about having to babysit another player, keep his lives safe in their hands, but here he is, having stolen a person’s life from them.

He lost Etho their first life, smart Etho who would never mess up killing an enderman in a boat, and now he has to own up to it and live with it.

“I know I messed up first,” Etho says, his eyes crinkling a bit in a way that, combined with the flat tone of his voice, tells Joel he’s definitely frowning. “But I think you messed up way worse there.”

Joel’s familiar with anger—very familiar—but it feels foreign coming from Etho. He ducks his head, runs back through the darkness to wherever it was that they’d died. Something akin to shame is curdling in his stomach, and it’s his fault that they died and Etho’s being weird about it and not yelling, meaning he’s the type to go all cold and calm with anger.

They gather their things from Impulse and Bdubs, then mess around a bit with boats—and maybe he’s just hiding it really well, but Etho doesn’t seem angry, it’s the strangest thing and Joel almost dreads the moment they’re alone together—before joining Grian and Scar on that horribly stupid plan to take over the outpost. It fails, of course, but no one gets seriously hurt and they get to lure a bunch of Pillagers into Bdubs’s stupid little house that he’s building for Impulse.

They hop around for probably a week, never alone, just watching everyone else start on their bases, before they finally set down a couple of chests and furnaces and get to work.

And Etho . . . isn’t mad.

In fact, as Joel starts laying out the foundation for his—their base, Etho comes up beside him, silently surveying, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t blame you for us being Yellow, by the way,” he says casually, and Joel almost chokes on his own spit.

“Sorry, what?”

Etho shrugs. “It was going to happen to one of us at some point,” he says. “And in my eyes? Better you than me, ‘cuz now I get to tease you for it.”

Is that. . . .

Was that a joke?

Etho leaves, and Joel’s left alone with his thoughts and a bunch of wood planks.

He’d thought Etho was boring. He’s always been the quiet, redstone-y kind of guy that Joel can’t stand—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Joel just needs somebody fast-moving, on his level, ready to burn down a building without questions or hesitation.

It’s just one joke. Anyone can make a joke, that doesn’t mean anything about their personality or character. For instance, Joel makes jokes all the time, and he’s a total jerk.

Etho can’t be likable. Sure, he was fine to wander around with for the past couple of days, causing general chaos, but he’s a bore and likes redstone. He won’t be able to keep up with Joel.

But Etho hovers there while he works, occasionally giving little suggestions to the build, and after he wanders off for the afternoon, he comes back with his eyes crinkled over his mask and bragging about some wool farm he’d built.

He doesn’t need help to build this ship. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone to get wool. He especially doesn’t need to depend on Etho, all dry looks and gloating and frowns.

Joel works alone. He always has.

But his indifference to Etho isn’t making him leave, so Joel decides to do what he does best.

Be annoying.

-

“I’m his biggest fan,” Joel boasts to anyone who’ll listen. “You guys know I looove redstone. Just like Etho. He’s perfect.”

Grian gives Scar a look. Scar doesn’t notice.

“We’re very happy—we have a lovely ‘Relation’ship, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the best pair on the server, actually.”

Scott gives Cleo a look. Cleo does notice.

“Etho’s probably the best at everything in the world. He’s so good at . . . redstone. And . . . all the stuff you do with it. That’s why we’re practically made for each other.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, you sound kind of. . . .” Jimmy trails off, glancing over at Tango for support.

“Like you’re compensating for something? Unhappy? Inadequate?” Tango suggests helpfully.

“A-absolutely untrue!” Joel sputters, then clears his throat and turns away, nose high. “I’m going to get back to working on me and Etho’s perfect ‘Relation’ship, thank you very much.”

“You’re short!” Jimmy calls as parting words. Joel ignores him.

In total opposition to what he’s been spending the past couple of days declaring, once he finishes the bedroom space of the ship, he places his bed and Etho’s bed on opposite sides of the room.

“You stay over there, and I stay over here, all right?” Joel says that night, pointing to their respective beds. “I’m not a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space.”

“But Joel, I thought you were my biggest fan!” Etho wheedles. There’s a glint in those crinkled eyes that tells Joel he’s heard the stuff Joel’s been saying.

Which is frustrating, and immediately takes all the fun out of it. He’d wanted Etho to be mad about his obnoxiousness, to refuse to speak to him, to mock him in return until their partnership inevitably dissolved.

But Etho—his eyes are crinkling, the way they did back when they first died and when he finished the wool farm and then later, when Joel showed him around the ship’s process and he silently nodded before walking off.

“It’s okay, Joel, I know you love me even if you need space,” Etho tells him now, mirth clear in his voice, and Joel realizes that maybe that look isn’t one of anger or disapproval, as he’d first thought. Maybe Etho is . . . smiling.

That’s not good.

It’s not good at all, because if Etho likes him, then Joel. . . .

Joel has to at least try to like him back, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s the worst guy to be around, after all. He was actually a lot of fun in that first week, running around and stealing and bothering people together.

Maybe he was wrong.

-

As it turns out, when Joel decides he can like Etho, Etho becomes a whole lot more likable.

Etho’s brave—he goes out and enchants his stuff, and Impulse tells the story of them being chased by no less than three Wardens and Etho somehow surviving (Joel’s heart skips a beat in his chest at the most tense moments of the story, and Etho casually slugs his shoulder when he looks up to check his soulmate’s okay). He’s strong—not everyone can just run around the Deep Dark all day in full armor and live to tell the tale.

And he totally gets Joel’s sense of humor. He snorts at Joel’s contrived puns, mocks Martyn’s house relentlessly, finds Jimmy’s failures just as hilarious as they actually are.

Joel can’t remember, in recent memory, ever having someone like this. Someone he actually enjoys the company of, someone whom he appreciates and who appreciates him in turn. Someone to talk to, to listen to—and while Etho is a bit quiet, it’s not because he’s boring and isn’t thinking about anything. Joel thinks he just forgets to speak sometimes, and will gladly talk about anything if Joel asks him to.

Sure, he’s had friends. He’s always gotten along with Grian and Jimmy and, really, everyone on the server, when pressed. But none of them are Etho, exactly.

Which is bad. It’s bad because Joel is getting attached, he’s getting complacent, he’s getting happy—

That’s dangerous. This is a death game.

And maybe all that emotional-friend-love stuff works for the likes of Scott, but that’s just not Joel’s modus operandi. He can’t—he can’t be like that. He can’t get close.

“Redstoners and builders don’t work out together, you know,” he says to Etho early one morning. They’d both risen before the sun, for some reason (anxiety, perhaps, as more players become Yellow and fire proves to be a very useful tool) and had decided, without discussion, to sit in the crow’s nest, legs swinging in the air.

Etho hums quietly in that way that means he’s listening, the way he always does when Joel comes over to bother him. Patient, mellow, waiting to see where he’s going with it.

“Seriously, it never works,” Joel continues. “Their brains are too different. You’d think they’d work well, ‘cuz they cover different bases and all that, but it’s the opposite. They just butt heads all the time. It never works.”

“What about Bdubs and Impulse?”

Joel shrugs. “I mean, they both know a good amount of both, right? That’s different.”

There’s a smile to Etho’s voice when he speaks. “Tango and Jimmy?”

“Only if you’re calling Jimmy a builder,” Joel snorts. “In which case, you’re dead wrong.”

Etho makes a show of thinking—he props his chin up on his hand, taps his finger against his cheek. “Hm. You must be right. I can’t think of any other redstone-builder pairs.”

For some reason, something painful sinks through Joel’s stomach. He swallows it back, lets triumph color his tone. “Exactly. They’re too different.”

Etho drops his hand, lightly elbows Joel in the ribs. “Except for you and me, of course. We’re the exception.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. The pain vanishes, healed over with hope, surprise, a desperate need for attention filled—and he can’t even make himself disagree and argue, like he’d intended. Instead, all he can do is repeat it.

“We’re the exception.”

As he goes about his day, he barely even processes his actions—Etho thinks they work well together. Etho thinks they’re a match. Etho likes him, and his company, and his building skills, and his humor, and his bluntness, and everything about him.

And Joel’s really starting to think that he likes everything about Etho as well, as hard as he’d tried not to at the beginning.

They go down to the Deep Dark together the next day, and Joel’s trying very hard to ignore whatever his feelings may be on Etho. They can just—they can just be friends, right?

Friends who install proper stairs, of course. The way down takes forever.

“Creeper, behind you!”

Joel spins around, axe up, ready to defend—nothing. Etho huffs a little (again something now familiar that Joel had once taken to be a sign of disapproval), eyes crinkled almost all the way shut when Joel whips back around to him.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you cheeky devil—we need to trust each other,” Joel says, no real anger behind the way he shoves Etho lightly.

His palms seem to burn at the contact.

“I just need to make sure you’ll pay attention to me,” Etho says, and Joel has to wonder for a moment if he’ll ever have the problem of not paying attention to Etho again.

He doesn’t think he’s properly ignored his soulmate once all game, and in recent days, he can’t seem to pay attention to anything but Etho. He feels like he’s constantly thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’ll like the touches on the ship, wondering if he’s safe and who he’s with and if he’ll come home all right.

He hopes, a little enviously, perhaps, that Etho has similar worries.

“I am paying attention,” Joel says, and it’s perhaps the most honest thing he’s ever said, in all the games. “I always pay attention.”

When Etho responds, the mirth feels forced, and for a moment Joel feels almost as if he’s seeing Etho without his mask on. “You won’t ignore me in our ‘Relation’ship?”

“No, no, no. I never do.”

It’s true.

It’s so true, it hurts.

Joel—he doesn’t trust people. He can’t. And he’s sick of having to tell himself it again and again, but this just isn’t meant for him.

And then he forgets about it all, because they go into the Deep Dark and it’s bloody terrifying.

(Well, mostly forgets. Because he does walk behind Etho most of the way through the city and Etho—well. It’s a good angle for him, is all.)

That night, Joel lies in his bed on his side of the ship, and stares at the other side of the room. Etho’s sleeping—he hopes, at least—curled up on his side, a blanket pulled up over his head despite the summer heat.

Etho’s always cold, it’s practically his trademark. He’s always got that coat of his on, and gloves, and a mask.

He doesn’t wear the mask to sleep—Joel’s caught glimpses of his face while getting into bed, but he always looks away quickly—, but Joel has no clue if he wears the rest of his ensemble. Just the covers alone ought to be sweltering. Imagine a coat on top of all of that.

If they shared a bed, Etho would have to do away with that extra blanket. Joel could maybe tolerate a bedsheet, that’s it.

If they shared a—where did that thought come from?

But . . . well, Etho’s asleep. And thought isn’t a crime.

So Joel lies there, staring across the room at his soulmate, and wonders. Wonders about what it feels like to hold Etho in his arms, whether his elbows and knees are as bony as they look. Wonders if his hair is quite long enough to grasp between his fingers. Wonders if he’d still be all smooth words after Joel pulled down his mask, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him on the mouth.

Joel falls asleep a little red in the face, and the next morning when Etho does that silent crinkly-eyed laugh, he can’t help but stare and turn red all over again.

He pushes it out of his mind, and it’s through a feverish haze that he even gets through the week, even as they sneak around looking for sugarcane and messing with Scar and running from a Warden on the surface, of all places. He’s really quite occupied, but none of it quite computes when Etho’s right there, being devilishly handsome with that quirked eyebrow and white hair ruffled by the wind.

And the night after they’ve run from the Warden, Joel comes in a bit later than Etho—he’d been out gathering wheat a bit longer—to find that his soulmate has pushed their beds together.

His brain short-circuits as he blinks at the sight: Etho, one hand on the back of his neck sheepishly; the other still holding the blanket he’d been throwing across both beds.

“Is this all right?” Etho asks. Joel turns his blinking gaze toward him. “I just. I wouldn’t mind a bit of cuddling.”

There’s something in the way his eyebrows raise that tells Joel Etho knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly how Joel feels. The part of him that realizes that, that knows that Etho knows, wants to clap and holler and kiss that sexy man.

The rest of Joel, the main part of him, is trained to survive.

“Sure, whatever,” Joel shrugs, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Etho can’t know. Etho can never know—and not that Etho can’t know just because he has a crush and it’s awkward, but because liking Etho is a weakness and Joel doesn’t have weaknesses, thank you very much.

And if Etho’s shoulders slump a bit at the response, Joel pretends he doesn’t notice.

And then the problem is, Etho doesn’t stop.

Joel makes it clear that he wants his space in bed, and Etho doesn’t encroach on that. But he does steal bites of Joel’s food, and sling an arm around his shoulder when they’re visiting the others, and boop his nose playfully when Joel starts to get angry at Grian for hoarding the sugarcane, and slowly look him up and down with a wink whenever he gets up for breakfast—

It’s maddening. It’s maddening, and every single night Joel lies there stiff as a board, inches away from Etho, trying to not let his thoughts wander to where they have so many times before.

He’s right there.

Every time Joel gets away on his own, he lets out a short, frustrated scream. And then he jumps off a hill that’s maybe a bit too high, if only to try and get Etho back for his teasing.

-

The fishing rods are possibly the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.

Not surprising, seeing as Grian’s at the head of this whole thing.

But Joel’s never been one for playing things safe, so he stabs the hook through the back of his shirt (he tugs on the line a few times, just to make sure it’s secure), then waits for Grian’s signal.

The first time is thrilling. The first time he flies up into the air, lands hard and laughs from the sheer adrenaline. Then he hooks Pearl, and Pearl hooks Etho, and they go up—

And Joel knows he’s in trouble for a split second before he’s dead on the ground.

He wakes up gasping, and there’s fire in his veins, there’s fire spreading all across his body and he wants—he needs to kill Pearl, needs her blood—

He rolls out of bed, scrambling for his chest and spare stuff, and then he hears someone else roll out of bed with a groan.

Joel turns, and Etho’s there, hungry fire in his eyes, and Joel needs him.

He practically tackles Etho, yanking down his mask—his lips are pink and soft and hot against Joel’s mouth, molten and perfect and everything he needs to stoke the burning inside—

Etho pushes him off (gently, somehow), and holds up a hand. Joel, somehow, manages to hold himself back. Etho’s—Etho’s right there—

Etho takes in a deep breath, and when he looks up, his eyes are crinkled in that perfect way and he’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, and Joel lunges for him again.

-

Their next kiss is slower than that.

After they kill Pearl, and the pounding bloodlust in his head has quelled a bit, Joel leads the way back to the ship. He leans against the railing—and Etho leans next to him—and they  kiss.

It’s lazy, Joel thinks he would say. But not lazy in the way he might be with a build—skipping details and panning over mistakes—, lazy in a comfortable, staying-in-bed-late kind of way.

He kisses Etho, lazy and lovely, warm in the evening sun. And he really, really doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.

Let them watch, he thinks, with an almost vicious pleasure. Etho’s mine.

That makes something deep in his chest silently purr, almost, and when he pulls away to breathe, he clears his throat in a contented kind of way (not a growl, not a purr, but the closest he can get without outright embarrassing himself). Etho perks up at the sound.

“I forgot to tell you, I figured out what that sound you make reminds me of,” he says, and even the excited way he speaks sounds lazy and perfect.

Joel clears his throat again—and yeah, he does do it a lot, come to think of it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Etho sighs a little bit, tips his head onto Joel’s shoulder. “A tiger. Have you ever heard a tiger chuff?”

Joel laughs at that—his soulmate thinks he sounds like a tiger chuffing, and it’s the most stupidly adorable thing ever.

“Why are you laughing?” Etho asks playfully, nudging Joel. Joel doesn’t answer, just chuckles and clears his throat—or, chuffs like a tiger—and plants a kiss on Etho’s head.

“We could go threaten Scar,” Joel offers after a moment. His blood is starting to boil again, and he knows from lonely experience that only violence can scratch the itch.

Well. Probably only violence. He does notice that it’s a decent bit quieter when he’s aggressively kissing Etho.

Etho stands up straight—taller than Joel when he does that, which is blummin’ obnoxious of him—and slowly, gently, lazily kisses Joel. It’s warm and measured, his tongue teasing at Joel’s slightly parted lips, and it seems to Joel that he only pulls away when he’s memorized the feel of Joel’s lips.

“That sounds like a good date,” he murmurs.

Joel grins, and Etho grins back, his eyes all crinkled, and Joel takes off at a run to swing himself over the opposite railing and climb down the ladder.

Etho catches up moments later, mask fixed back on his face, and Joel pulls out his spyglass to check out where the residents of that giant cake-thing are.

They’re right beside it, as it turns out.

“Scar’s holding a flint n’ steel,” Joel warns, shoving his spyglass in his pocket. “He already took down the Ranch, we might want to be careful of that.”

Etho only scoffs. “If the ship burns, everything burns.”

Unsurprisingly, Joel finds he agrees with that—not that he can ever imagine disagreeing with Etho. He nods.

“If the ship burns, everything burns.”

-

And after everything burns, they burn too.

They’re dying, Joel had come through the portal to find lava and pain, and he screams for Etho to turn back but even if he had they’d still be dead—

He doesn’t even have the chance to glance back at his lover before he burns.

He drifts for a little while, the bitter disappointment of his loss somehow distant when compared to the loss of Etho. The next game will start eventually, and when it does, there’s no way of knowing that Etho will even be there. After all, it’s picked up new players and dropped others as time passed. Joel can’t even remember the original line-up, it’s shifted so much and so many times.

When he lands in the next game, he doesn’t even check his comm before punching apart a tree.

The gimmick isn’t soulmates again, he knows instantly. He’d grown so accustomed to the pull in his chest of Etho that it aches now to not feel him.

(Or maybe that’s just his heart. Same difference, really.)

So Joel tries to put Etho out of his mind and move on with his life. They were never meant to last, anyway. That’s the thing about redstoners and builders—they never work out.

He knew that. He knew they never work out, and he tried to do something with Etho, anyway.

It had been fun while it lasted, of course. It had been . . . perfect, even.

But Joel’s always been a loner, and now that he’s got that Green-life clarity, he can go back to it.

He takes down another tree and has a crafting table and some basic tools put together when someone clears their throat behind him.

Joel jumps, spins around—

Etho’s there, leaning lazily against a tree, and—his eyes are crinkled in that way—

“Miss me?” he teases, and Joel barely has time to drop his wooden pick before he’s storming over, pushing Etho against the tree, tearing his mask down—

The kiss is hard and messy, teeth clicking together and lips sliding apart, and when Joel pulls away to gasp in some air, Etho’s cheeks are flushed and lips bruised and he’s still got that blummin’ smile.

“Right,” Joel breathes.

“Wanna build us a house while I go mining?” Etho offers, and forget whatever loser thoughts Joel had been moping about with! He’s got Etho, there’s no need to be on his own anymore.

Maybe they can even win it, this time. After all, they’re together from the start here. No more acting like an idiot about wanting to be alone or whatever.

Joel watches Etho head off into a cave, stone pick hefted over his shoulder, and can’t help the way his heart skips a beat.

Etho’s his, and when everything burns, they burn together.

#double life smp #traffic smp #trafficblr #smalletho #THE SMALLETHO IS ROMANTIC!! #BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING THEY MAKE OUT A LOT! #double life fanfic #mas writes #061323 #this will be uploaded to ao3 under the title 'when everything burns' #idk why but after a dlsmp rewatch i had a bad smalletho itch #dlsmp #again this was queued in december #so while i very much appreciate comments and will love you forever #i won't see em immediately #and also i'm not back yet from my break #but lmk what you think! #love you guys

[dw-flagler]

something that always bothered me about the worm fanfic scene is that they always try to cram everyone together. There's always the scene where taylor meets lisa in a coffee shop or whatever. I get it, it's a fanfic, you can't just make up a character for her to meet.

But one of the things i always liked about worm was that it stayed away from the comic trope of making everyone connected. Like, if Worm was a comic book, Armsmaster would be her teacher, She'd end up being friends with Kid Win, Cherie would attend Winslow, Annette would end up being still alive and a secret agent for Cauldron but with amnesia or something, over-the-top soap opera shit, right?

What I always liked was that in Worm, Taylor's just some girl. She only knows one hero out of costume, and it's the girl who ruined her life. Her dad's just the head of hiring for the union. Her mom was just a college professor. If you asked the mayor about Danny Hebert, he'd say "who?" A lot of fanfics have him be like seinfeldian rivals with the mayor, but like he just writes petitions. If you asked Lustrum about Annette Hebert, she'd have no clue who you're talking about, because Annette was just like a member of her organization.

What I'm trying to stress, is that in superhero comics, everything's connected. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone's a super genius, or met at The Science Expo, or their dad was a famous crime fighter. Comics have all these sorts of big dramatic irony reveals. In comic books, there is never a character who's just some guy.

This sort of thing is great for making everything feel connected, and it's good for keeping out extraneous exposition.

But Worm doesn't do that. It's all just like. They're just regular ass people. Of course they don't know each other. They live in a city with 300 thousand people, none of them would have ever met each other if it weren't for capeshit.

And, I mean, it does remove a lot of the potential for shenanigans but it really does a lot to make everything feel more real.

There's also something there about capeshit being a metaphor for shared trauma where like these people would not know each-other were it not for shared trauma.

The undersiders, the great team, the bestest friend team, they don't meet if not for capeshit. They have no connection to eachother outside this. These are kids who would have never met, they would never have come within 20 degrees of separation were it not for the fact they have powers. This is integral to worm's worldbuilding. It's maybe the closest you ever get to a positive aspect of gaining powers, and yet for so many capes there is no undersiders, just the fighting and loneliness and eventual violent death.

#*grue*somely? hahA! please clap #also as always i should clarify it's The Undersiders: Bestest Friend Team (& also Alec & Aisha) #the whole “brought together by capeshit” is PAINFULLY obvious in breakthrough btw #literally a therapy group #like come on now #in the worm fanfic scene this is the equivalent of that coffee dog in the burning building being like “this coffee is a little bit too cold #there's bigger fish to fry here #we've got rationalist fics out the wazoo dw who cares about the (extremely minor) comic book-ification of the worm fandom #worm #wormblr #wormposting #old drafts post i didn't post until now #maybe you can see why

[lilacthebooklover]

fallen hero headcanons & theorising my beloved

#1800 words in #and there's not even any dialogue yet #eternal sugar's just too fun too write #eternal sugar cookie #eternal sugar crk #idk about you guys #but i'm an “internal monologue until the character decides to speak” sort of writer #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie #fallen heroes #crk fallen heroes #crk fanfic #burning spice cookie #burning spice crk #silent salt cookie #silent salt crk #mystic flour cookie #mystic flour crk #beast yeast #cr kingdom #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla cookie #crk theory #crk headcanons #i love giving the beasts personalities & backstories #even if this all turns out to be wildly wrong #i am having a blast #they should've hired me for the writing team smh