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katehuntington · 3 years

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Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result. Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.” They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly.

“Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work. “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?” Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.” Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.” “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either.

As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake.

Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so.

Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her.

The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock.

At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough.

“We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time. “Me first,” Dean demands, childish. “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.” “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him.

“That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?” “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.” “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly. “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

“And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again. “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal. “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

“You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone. “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns. “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years, and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at? “How?” he questions, suspicion rising. “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states. Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.” “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers. “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke. “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant. But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.”

Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

“Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone. “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him. “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

“You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

“You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!” he continues cynically. “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.” “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

“I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's. “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two. “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride.

Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father. Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again. “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white. “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him.

Take care of Sammy.

He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

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northcarolinanative · 4 years

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𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 / 𝙲𝚑 𝟷𝟷

Chapter 11: Surprise

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I posted a chapter. My bad. I also am trying to figure out my take on the season’s loose ends, which is hard because I have a lot of ideas, but have no idea how to execute them haha. Thank you all for the large amount of support, it means the world <3. As always Requests/ asks/ and DMs are open:)

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. Her and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Full Collision Masterlist // (I just made it so please let me know if there are Issues:))

Pope quickly hurried JJ outside and down to the dock to cool off. I heard a small part of their conversation as they left. Pope told JJ that Rafe couldn't “Rot in a jail cell if he was dead.” That’s what I wanted. Rafe looked bad, and it served him right. He was a terrible person. He ran off my brother, and even his own sister to get away with his crimes.

“So you were going to the Country Club to look for a job?” Kie questioned. She began to pack up the first aid kit. Still standing beside me, but she didn’t look up in my direction.

“Yea” I swallowed, “Umm, I mean I’m gonna need money to keep things running over at the Chateau. I’d rather be here than back on the mainland. Mom has trips planned all summer, so it’s either on my own there or on my own here.” I finished with a sarcastic laugh.

I saw Kie’s expression soften. She walked around the desk that I was still sitting on. When she opened the drawer it screeched so loud that I felt my eyebrows scrunch together. “Sorry,” Kie said. She walked over and leaned against the wall in front of me facing the desk. “One of the Waitresses, Vannessa, quit this morning, so there’s an opening.” She paused and looked at me for a reaction. “And If you can handle those jerks at the Country Club summer after summer I’m pretty sure you can handle a few tourons.” She joked, causing both of us to laugh. “I know it doesn’t begin to make up for what I said the other day at the Chateau, but I am really sorry.”

I smiled in her direction, opening my arms. She made the short stride to the desk and we wrapped each other in our arms. We pulled away shortly after. “So what do you say? Wanna work at the infamous Wreck?” She smiled and winked in my direction.

“Yes, I’d love to.” I smiled. I knew her father wasn’t too fond of her friends, so I was hoping that he would be just as on board with this as Kie was.

“Okay, so I hate to do this to you but you’ll have to start pretty soon, the business has picked up since the ferry started running again. Follow me.” She said, leading us into a back room. “Here are two shirts, if you need more just let me know, and an apron and a book, you can leave those in the back room if you need to though.” We walked out into the dining room where Pope and JJ were standing by the door. “Got it?” Kie said with a smile.

“I think so,” I said looking at JJ who was poking at Pope, annoying him. I was glad Pope was able to calm JJ down from his short temper. I saw Kie look between JJ, who was now smiling like an idiot at me, and me, but she didn’t say anything. “So you’ll call when I get my first shift?” I questioned.

“Yes ma’am.” She faked a professional tone, causing both of us to laugh. “Should be in the next few days.”

“Alright. I’m gonna head home, today has been long enough, and its barley even the afternoon” I said rolling my eyes. “I just wanna relax now.” I gave Kie a sheepish smile and waved, walking over to the boys.

Pope seemed to get the memo as he waved to me. “Hope that cheek gets better, fighter.” He laughed before going to join Kie.

“JJ make sure she ices that” Kie yelled to the two if you. JJ just held up two fingers and jokingly saluted her as we walked out the door.

The short walk through the parking lot to my car was silent. Heavy, like everything, seemed to be these days. I tried to put my key in the door, but it was proving difficult. I had not realized how bad I was shaking until now. JJ noticed my hesitation before walking over to my side. I held my hand out in front of me, extending my fingers to see just how bad my hands were shaking. JJ reached up and grabbed my shaking hand in his. I looked up at him, scrunching my eyebrows together.

“Why don’t you let me drive? You’re still quite shaken up Y/N.” I just nodded and placed the keys in his open hand. A smile formed on his face as he handed me the white paper bag in his hand.

“What is this?” I asked. I didn’t see him holding it earlier.

“I may have snuck some food when Mr.C wasn’t looking.” He smiled, sending me a wink before nodding at the car. I walked around to the side and got in. I sat the warm food on my lap. The engine sputtered as it finally turned over and started up. JJ and I both laughed a little, relieved that it started.

Soft Reggae music filled the car, playing off the local radio station. The windows were rolled down, letting the salty air blow through the air. I looked over at JJ and the sun was hitting his face in a way that, not to be dramatic, looked angelic. At this moment things felt almost normal. It felt as if Rafe and Ward Cameron didn’t exist like John B would be waiting for us at the Chateau like Dad would be there with him. JJ pulled me from my quickly spiraling daydream, “I got you chicken tenders because I know you have the taste of a five year old.” He laughed.

“I prefer the term ‘sophisticated palette,’” I spoke in a fake posh accent, instantly regretting it. “I’m never doing that again,” I said as we both laughed. JJ and I crossed the bridge taking us back over to the cut. “Kie gave me a job at The Wreck,” I said.

JJ looked my way quickly before turning his eyes back toward the road. “So y’all made up or?” JJ trailed off. His limited knowledge of girls and their arguments showing.

I laughed softly before continuing. “Yes,” I paused. “Don’t get me wrong I am still upset that she wasn’t supportive from the beginning, but she did apologize.”

“I’m glad she did. Honestly, you bring out a soft side in her. I think I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve heard of Kie apologize to anyone” JJ laughed.

“Did you tell Pope about last night?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn’t think that they would take it well.” He said a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Okay good. I was talking with Pope about how he was feeling, and I just don't want to give them a false sense of hope, ya know?” I looked out the window at the trees that lined the road.

“Give them a false sense of hope?” JJ questioned, but quickly laughed. “Right, you were talking about the map and John B.” His face turned bright red.

“Yes JJ,” I said smiling, realizing that he thought I was talking about the new dynamic forming between the two of us. . “I hope that you aren't running around kissing and telling JJ,” I said playfully pushing his shoulder.

“Oh don’t you worry princess. Your secret’s safe with me.” He said, causing us both to laugh again. His hand reached over to grab mine, which had managed to stop shaking significantly and giving it a reassuring squeeze. JJ had managed to help relax my mind by being his usual joking self. The rest of the short ride back to the Chateau returned to the soft music playing from the radio. JJ’s hand at some point had left mine and was now resting on my leg just above my knee, not that I was complaining.

When we arrived at the house JJ helped me carry in the food as we sat on the couch on the back porch, overlooking the water, while we ate. On the table in front of us sat our meals and the map from the night before. JJ and I were looking over it just to see if we could find any other potentials as promising as the cargo ship. We didn’t.

JJ finished his meal by pushing the last fry into his already full mouth. He chewed while tapping the line repeatedly. “This ship” He paused to swallow, “is it.”

I followed the line down the ship onto the edge of the page where it stopped, just as it moved across to the South Carolina Border. I grabbed the ship log. “It says here that the ship was making one stop in Nassau.” I looked over at JJ, who had leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the table. “So what’s next?” I questioned, leaning back into the worn couch.

“Me?” JJ pointed to his face, a shocked look on his face. “This is all on you Nancy Drew, I’m like scooby doo, here for comedic relief and treats.” His voice coated with sarcasm as he sent a wink in my direction.

“Well Scooby, you need to do something to earn your treats, don’t you? You don’t get rewarded for sitting there and being pretty.” I rolled my eyes.

JJ shifted closer to me on the couch. “So you think I’m pretty?” He laughed.

My face turned bright red. “Maybe? Don’t push it.”

“You look tired,” JJ said softly. He laid into me, resting against my chest, looking up at my face.

“Wow, I call you pretty and you call me tired. I don’t know if this is going to work buddy.” I let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You know what I mean Y/N.” He reached up with his hand, running the back of his fingers across the bruise and cut on my face, his eyes intense on the mark. He then moved to trace the now darkened bruise on my neck. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he did. His eyes moved quickly to meet mine. We seemed locked in that position, looking into each other’s eyes. I felt like I was searching for something. I was always seeming to be searching for something. I saw his eye flick down to my mouth, where I subconsciously, licked my lips.

JJ took that as a cue to move forward. He pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, but quickly became more heated. He moved from his position. He used his legs to crawl on top of me, situating himself between my legs. One of his arms holding himself up, the other found its way to my waist. The intimacy of the moment only making things hotter. The kiss was becoming sloppier, as my hands found my way into JJ’s hair, messing it up. JJ’s mouth started to move. He started my chin and up my jaw towards my ear, opposite of the bruises. His other hand came up to cradle my face. His fingers hit right at the cut on my cheek. I pulled away with a faint ‘ouch’.

That was enough of JJ to stop completely and pull away. He moved to sit up, pulling me with him. “That was”

“Hot.” I finished for him, with a smile. I could feel that my face was hot and probably the color of a tomato.

He smiled at me, biting his now red and swollen lips. “You know, I’m really liking getting used to this.” He chuckled pointing between the two of us. “I’ll be right back.” He stated, before standing up and walking back into the chateau. I looked out over the water. The wind was a bit heavier today, causing the sound to be rougher than usual. The small waves were lapping against the shore, mixed with the soft rustle of the leaves, making a rather calming noise. I laid back down, feeling a wave of exhaustion run over me. I closed my eyes and let the feeling of relaxation take over.

I heard the porch door swing open, signaling that JJ had returned, but I kept my eyes closed. My eyes shot open, causing me to sit up when something cold landed on my face. I reach to grab it, finding JJ smiling and holding a bag of frozen peas. I gave him a questioning look.

“What Kie said that you need to ice your face?” He said, shrugging. JJ crawled back to my side. His head resting on my chest once again. He put the peas over my injured eye. “I also didn’t want to bother you too much. You should sleep” He said with a faint smile.

I nodded, letting my eyes close, one hand holding the peas to my eyes, the other mindlessly in JJ’s hair. I focused back on the sound of the waves, and the rustling leaves, or the way that JJ had pulled his arm around me bringing me closer, or the way that his hand was drawing small patterns on my back through my shirt. I felt myself beginning to drift off into sleep.

I was woken up to a loud banging noise. I jumped but felt JJ’s weight still on top of me. “JJ, Wha–.” My words quickly interrupted as JJ quickly put his hand over my mouth. I saw his eyes wide as he sunk further into the couch.

“We need to get out of here,” He said, in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “Follow me.” He slid off the couch, grabbing the keys off the table, staying low. He grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. I followed his actions.

A loud booming voice made me jump once again. “Surprise Maybank.” I heard a crash of something breaking inside. ”Payback time you little Bitch.”

I looked at JJ, with wide eyes and he cursed, trying to pull us off the porch. I heard doors opening and closing doors loudly in the house while banging on the wall. JJ was slowly pushing open the screen door so that it wouldn’t screech. He held it so it wouldn’t slam as we continued down the steps.

The loud male voice boomed again. “Went to see your old man Maybank.” I looked at JJ as his head snapped up to look at the house. JJ pushed me up against the house as the male figure exited through the back porch door. I looked at JJ, I could feel how wide my eyes were, but what scared me the most was the fear in JJ’s eyes. “Said you hadn’t been around in a few days. Thought you’d be here, I’d hate to go rough up your girl Kiara, or your boy Pope who tried to choke out Country Club.” I saw the man standing on the steps of the porch. I shot JJ a questioning glance at what the man had just said. He was short, but fairly muscular. He wore a bandana covering his lower half of his face, black curly hair falling around it. In his hand was a short barrel shotgun, one he obviously wasn’t afraid to use. JJ quickly pulled us around the corner of the house before the man could see us.

“JJ what the hell is going on?” I whisper. JJ just holds up a hand to silence me. He’s still standing in front of me, my back to the outside wall of the house. He moved to look over around the corner. I heard the door to the house shut again and I was being pulled toward the trees surrounding the house. I looked to the driveway catching a glimpse of the blue charger parked there before I was pulled by my hand to the woods by JJ.

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azozzoni · 4 years

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restless & wreckless | VDS | 8/8

This is the last chapter, guys! Thanks for reading along.

“Hey! You escaped imprisonment!”

Lucas smiled as Kes’ face popped up on the laptop screen, eyeliner smudged and dark hair falling in his eyes, jostled around as Jayden shoved his face next to Kes’.

“Oh my God, Luc! We thought you were dead.”

Shifting on his stomach, Lucas rolled his eyes at his friends, shoving the laptop a little further away on the bed, glancing up at the pitter-pat of rain on his window.

“If anyone asks, I’m doing homework,” he said as Kes and Jayden laughed and Jayden peered through the screen.

“Wait? Is that a nose ring? Bro! I can’t believe you did it without us.”

“Well, you weren’t here.” Lucas didn’t mean for it to come out quite so harshly, and he knew it had when Kes frowned. “I don’t wanna talk about what’s happening here. How’ve you been surviving without me?”

Lucas turned at a noise at his door, but his dad didn’t barge in, so he must be safe for now. He still didn’t have his phone, and Lucas was half-tempted to just get a cheap burner phone so at least he could text Kes and Jayden. Without them, he didn’t have anyone to talk to. Especially since he’d effectively shoved Jens out of his life.

“We’ve been suffering,” Jayden said, clearly sarcastic, grinning when Kes shoved him and the screen shook. They were outside somewhere, but Lucas couldn’t see much beyond their faces.

“It sucks without you,” Kes said seriously, pouting through the screen. “Are you at least doing fun things there? Hanging out with anyone?”

Scowling, Lucas shook his head. “There’s no one worth hanging out with here.”

Except Jens.

Shaking away the thought, Lucas focused on the way Kes paused.

“I’m glad you’re not in a rush to replace us,” he said slowly. “But you’ve gotta talk to somebody or you’ll go crazy.”

Frowning, Lucas didn’t answer. There was Jens, but he’d pretty much screwed that up. Even if he wanted to fix it, he was pretty sure Jens wouldn’t want to talk to him again.

“What about guys?” Jayden butted in when Lucas didn’t reply. “We know how you go through ‘em. There’s gotta be some hot guy you want to bang.”

Lucas didn’t even sigh at Jayden’s total lack of tact.

“No,” he said finally, and Kes eyed him through the screen as Jayden’s eyebrows rose as high as they could go.

“That was a suspicious no,” Kes said, and Lucas scoffed.

“It was just a word.”

“Luc,” Kes said, and Lucas was reminded why he didn’t video chat with people. Kes could always read him, even through a screen.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Lucas ran a hand through his hair as he glanced out the window. The sky had been grey all day, alternating between rain and a persistent mist.

“There was someone,” he admitted begrudgingly as Kes and Jayden stared at him. “But it was nothing. Just a hook up.”

“And you’re being all cryptic because…”

“I’m not.” Lucas scowled. “I don’t tell you about everyone I hook up with.”

“Since when?” Kes demanded, laughing. “You even told us about that guy who came on to you at a fry stand.”

Jens wasn’t any different than any of those guys. Except that he actually liked Lucas, had told him so, had been willing to come out to his friends so they could be more than just a hook-up.

“Luc?” Kes asked when Lucas didn’t reply, biting his lip. As much as he hated admitting it, he had to tell someone. And who better than his best friends?

“I panicked,” he muttered after a long pause, staring at his comforter instead of Kes and Jayden on the screen. “He told me he liked me and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Kes said quietly, and Lucas chanced a glanced up. “We’ve all been there.” He paused. “Well, maybe not Jayden.”

“Hey!” Jayden objected.

“But if he likes you, you can still fix it.”

Lucas wouldn’t even know where to start, if he wanted to start. If he fixed things with Jens, where would that leave him? With a boyfriend? He’d never thought of himself as the type, had never had anyone who wanted to try, wouldn’t know what to do, how to act.

“Lucas! Are you done with your homework?” His dad’s voice grew louder as it came down the hall and Lucas grimaced.

“I gotta go,” he said quickly, ending the call and cutting off Kes and Jayden’s shouted goodbyes.

Not a second too soon as his door opened without a knock and his dad frowned at the internet window open on his laptop.

“If you’re not going to use it for homework, I’m taking it back.”

Lucas merely glared as he dad turned and left the room. He was sick of being cooped up here with only his mistakes to think about. At least with Jens, he’d had something to look forward to. Something he could count on. Maybe that was what it would be. Maybe it didn’t have to be movies and sharing straws at cafes. Maybe it wouldn’t be any of those things Lucas had come to assume came with relationships, those things he didn’t know how to do, if he’d be any good at it. The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d fucked up with Jens.

Sliding off his bed, Lucas pulled open his bedroom door, listening. The television was on in the living room, and when he reached the end of the hall, he could see his dad and Katelijn watching some nature documentary. There was a clear path to the front door, and his eyes fell on his dad’s keys hung up beside it.

Careful, Lucas sneaked behind the couch, moving quietly to the front hall where he slid the key from its hook and edged out the front door, shutting it slowly.

Down the stairs and out the front door, he took a deep breath, cold air chilling his lungs. Smirking to himself, he swung the keys in his fingers. He figured his dad owed him for keeping his phone so long.

The car sat on the pavement and Lucas slid in without even checking over his shoulder for his dad. As he pulled away, turned the corner, Lucas felt the unease growing, the second-thoughts creeping in. He had to do it, though. He had to at least clear the air or he’d never get over it.

At Jens’ house, Lucas sat in the car for a minute, debating whether or not this was actually a good idea. But he’d never been one to take his own advice, so he got out of the car and climbed up the tree to Jens’ window without letting himself rethink.

Jens’ curtains were parted, and Lucas could see him lying on his bed, typing something on his phone, and for a second, he hesitated. This could be a terrible idea.

Shaking himself, he knocked on the window, drawing Jens’ attention from his phone, seeing the crease in his brow as he slid off the bed and moved over to the window.

“What are you doing?” Jens asked as he got it open, and Lucas didn’t crawl inside, lingering on the roof.

“I stole my dad’s car,” he said, nodding his head at the green little car on the street. “Let’s go.”

Jens didn’t move, staring at him as though he’d lost it. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”

“Jens,” Lucas said instead, watching him, hoping he could understand without him having to say it, without him having to explain. It was going to be hard enough to get the rest out.

For a second, Jens didn’t react except to frown, eyes moving from Lucas to the car on the street and back.

“Fine. But I’m not climbing out my own window. I’ll be down in a minute.”

It was unexpected relief as Jens shut the window and Lucas took a second to take a breath before shimmying down the tree. One thing done.

Countryside rolled past the windows, grey sky making everything dark, green grass and cows. Lucas didn’t really know where they were, just that they weren’t in the city anymore.

“We are gonna stop before we get to France, right?” Jens asked, half a joke, watching him from the passenger seat.

Lucas didn’t reply, watching the streaks left behind by the windshield wipers. He hadn’t exactly had a plan, dragging Jens out here, wherever <i>here</i> was. He’d half expected Jens to say no to coming at all, but apparently Jens was just as reckless as he was.

He heard Jens’ sigh beside him, saw how he turned in his seat from the corner of his eye.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked finally, eyebrows furrowed when Lucas glanced his way. Shaking his head, he bit his lip. “You show up at my house with your dad’s stolen car and ask me to come with you. And what? Now we’re just not gonna talk?”

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Lucas frowned.

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good at explaining himself, talking about how he felt, even figuring out what he felt. He’d hoped they could just magically move on, move forward? He wasn’t really sure.

At another of Jens’ sighs, Lucas pulled the car off the side of the road, facing a pasture where a cow watched them for a moment before ambling on. Raindrops dotted the windshield as they sat there and Lucas took a breath.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he said finally, avoiding Jens’ gaze. Long green grass rippled in the wind outside the car, and Lucas wished he could just get out and pretend he’d never thought this was a good idea.

“You could say you didn’t mean to freak out on me,” Jens offered, and Lucas frowned.

“But I did mean to. I mean—” Grimacing, he sighed at the steering wheel. It was frustrating, the feelings swelling inside him, what he knew he was supposed to say, how he was supposed to fix this, his inability to put any of it into words even as they sat there, completely alone with no one around to hear them. “I don’t know.”

“You know,” Jens said after a second, running a hand through his hair as he gazed out the window. “You have a hard exterior, but underneath, you’re soft and gooey like the rest of us.”

Lucas frowned instead of answering. What the hell did that mean?

Jens glanced at him. “I’m not expecting a declaration of love or something. I already told you I like you. You’re the one who broke it off. So if we’re out here for just a hook-up, I’d rather go home.”

Chewing on his cheek, Lucas paused. That wasn’t why they’d come out here. Why was it so hard to just tell Jens? Because everything would change. Everything would be different. He would be different. And he wasn’t sure he wanted that.

“Fuck you, I didn’t bring you out here for a hook-up,” he muttered finally, and maybe it came off too harsh as Jens’ eyebrows went up.

“Then why are we here?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas said, jerking his shoulders, more annoyed at himself than anything. “I thought maybe—” He huffed out a breath, knowing Jens was watching him. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

He glanced over as Jens sat back, licking his lip slowly, thoughtfully. Why couldn’t Jens just know? Why did Lucas have to say it?

“You want to know why I had to move here?” he asked finally, watching a light blink on the dash. He knew Jens was watching him, waiting for some kind of explanation. “I didn’t set anything on fire or get in a fight with a bunch of homophobes.” He hadn’t done any of those things, those rumors, that had floated around school about him. He swallowed, staring out the front window at the rain gathering on the glass. “My mom had a breakdown, and they had to send her to a clinic. I tried to… break in, see her, but I got caught. My dad was so pissed and since he was moving here anyway, he forced me to come with him, forced me to leave her.”

Lucas hadn’t talked about it, about his mom, not even really with Kes. It had been months and he hadn’t even gotten to see her. Visiting hours were so short and his dad didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it at all.

For a long minute, Jens didn’t say anything as Lucas sighed. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone the real reason, had planned on letting them make up their own increasingly wild theories about what had happened so they’d leave him alone. But Jens had come with him, jumped in the car with barely a second glance, deserved something to explain why Lucas did the things he did.

“Shit,” Jens said finally, and Lucas almost laughed. So succinct. So simple. Shit. “Is she okay? You know, Robbe’s mom was in a clinic for a while. She got out and she’s doing a lot better.”

Lucas didn’t care about Robbe’s mom. He didn’t care about whatever advice Jens might have on the subject. That wasn’t why he’d driven them all the way out there, to the middle of nowhere.

“I didn’t want to come here,” Lucas said instead. “I didn’t want to move here, make friends, try to fit in. I just want to get this year over with.”

Jens nodded slowly. “So then why the hell are we out here?”

Sighing, Lucas set his hands on the steering wheel, the windshield obscured by water droplets, reflecting the green field beyond the car. Jens wasn’t going to make this easy, and he didn’t deserve it to be easy.

“Because I like you,” Lucas said, blunt, feeling his heart crawling into his throat, an unbidden thud against his Adam’s apple, as though he was actually nervous. He didn’t think he’d ever said that to anyone before.

Jens didn’t react to that, chewing on his lip, tilting his head to the side, and Lucas cursed to himself as his blood pounded in his veins. “You like me,” he repeated after a second. “And do you want to be with me?”

Lucas frowned. He wasn’t sure how things like this were supposed to go. Most of the time, he didn’t have to say anything. People just understood. “Yes,” he said finally, “but—”

“No buts,” Jens interrupted, a smile growing on his face, and Lucas shot him a look.

“But,” he pushed on, “I don’t know what that means. I don’t know how to…” He shook his head. “I hate those gross couples who make everything about them. What exactly does together mean?”

Jens looked surprised at Lucas’ response. He didn’t see how it was so surprising. His only relationship role models were either his parents, who had lasted all of fifteen unhappy years together before imploding, or his friends, who went through girlfriends at a surprising speed.

“It’s different for everyone,” Jens said finally. “My last girlfriend, we spent most of our time making out or fighting. We don’t have to do what other couples do, or we can do all of it. There are no rules on how to be together.” He paused, watching Lucas. “Is that what freaks you out? Having to be like everyone else?”

“No.” Lucas scowled, although the thought had occurred to him.

Jens smiled, though, as if he knew Lucas wasn’t telling the truth. “Okay. Well, we’ve established that you like me, and you want to be with me, so I have a question for you.”

Unimpressed, Lucas looked back at Jens, the rain-streaked window behind him obscuring the field. How many more questions could he have? How much longer was he going to drag this out for? Lucas had admitted how he felt, what he wanted. Maybe he hadn’t acknowledged that he’d screwed up, but he thought it was pretty obvious.

“Are you gonna kiss me or do I have to do it?”

Rolling his eyes, Lucas didn’t hesitate this time, leaning over and pulling Jens to his mouth. It felt like nothing had changed as Jens smiled against his lips and dragged him closer, exhaling gently as their lips parted and met again. Warmth blossomed in his chest, an unusually good feeling accompanying the way he kissed Jens slowly.

“Is that a smile?” Jens teased when they parted, and Lucas shoved his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

Jens paused for a second, licking his lips, hand still on the back of Lucas’ neck, eyes sincere as he caught Lucas’. “I get this is not going to be anything resembling normal, but I’m okay with that.”

Lucas couldn’t stop the small smile at his lips as he let out a breath. This wasn’t how he’d expected moving here to go, that he’d ever meet someone like Jens—someone he actually liked, someone who wasn’t terrible in this stupid place, someone who rightfully called him out on his bullshit.

Lucas kissed Jens against instead of answering, hoping that might be enough to convey everything he was feeling, all the words he couldn’t say, and he felt Jens’ arms slide around his shoulders, warm and safe.

“So,” Jens said finally when their lips were sore, hands heavy, smiles easy. “Where are we going?”

“I have no idea,” Lucas replied. “And I still don’t have my phone, so we’ll have to find the way back ourselves.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jens assured him as Lucas started the car back up.

As they pulled onto the road, Lucas couldn’t help sighing, content. They would be fine.

“Do you even have a license?” Jens asked as they zoomed down the road, and Lucas smirked as he glanced over, placing an easy hand on Jens’ thigh.

“No.”

FIN.

#wtfock #skam nl #van der stoffels #my fic

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call-me-rei · 3 years

Text

Chapter 32

“I’m scared to get close, and I hate being alone.”

---

Vic didn’t go to music appreciation on Tuesday after our...talk. I couldn’t blame him; I wouldn’t want to be around me either.

That’s why I avoided him on Wednesday. If I noticed him down the hall I went in a different direction. I was glad we didn’t have any classes together on B days because I probably would have skipped them.

But today was Thursday and Vic and I had two periods together. Two periods that I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to. I wanted to call in sick or just hang out somewhere else until lunch, but my anxiety kept telling me that I’d missed a week of school and I couldn’t afford to miss any more. So I convinced myself to sit in my government class and ignore the obsessive thoughts in my head.

Lucky for me Vic didn’t show up to government.

By the time lunch rolled around I was getting the slightest bit worried. I hadn’t seen Vic all day. His brother was at school with Jaime and Tony, but Vic was nowhere to be found. Part of me wanted to talk to them and ask where he was, but they were still intimidating even after all this time.

I walked with my friends to the back courtyard for lunch. We figured a change of scenery was needed for all of us after all of the events of the week, even if that change was going outside to eat cafeteria food.

We sat down at a table and discussed weekend plans. None of us had any so Ashley suggested following her along to a concert. She wanted to get the chance to photograph bands and this was a way to start.

We were talking logistics and money when I saw Kortney’s eyes widen. She scooted away from Savannah and made room at the circular table we were sitting at. She tapped on Sav’s shoulder and pointed behind her. Sav turned to look and scooted down as well.

I looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Before I could turn to look at what had gotten Kortney’s attention, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at the culprit, my breath hitching slightly. He smiled widely at me before asking if he could join us. None of us knew what to say so we didn’t say anything. He took that as a cue to sit right next to me in the space that Sav had left. His two friends followed suit, sitting next to Lynn who was on my right and in between Kortney and Ashley.

“So, what are we talking about?” We all looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“Um,” Lynn started. I could tell she was trying to ask a question and not come off as rude.

Savannah didn’t have that problem, so she spoke. “What gives? Why are you sitting with us?”

“Can’t we sit with our friends?”

“I didn’t think we were friends,” Sav answered.

“Vic asked us to.” Mike shot daggers at Tony who only shrugged. “What? It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell them that,” Mike chastised.

“So what should I have said?” Tony asked with attitude.

“Not that,” Mike answered.

I cleared my throat which brought the two boys’ attention away from each other. “Why’d he ask you to sit with us?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Mike sighed. “My brother may have heard some shit about Jacob wanting revenge for Monday, and since he’s been MIA today, he texted saying we should hang around you guys.”

“To protect us?” Jaime nodded. “So we need bodyguards?” Did Jacob really want to hurt me that badly?

“Kinda,” Tony said, answering my spoken and unspoken questions.

“Fuck,” I groaned. This meant that I theoretically couldn’t go anywhere without Vic or one of his friends around. And here I thought that it was intimidating just to ask them where Vic was.

“Aw, c’mon Kellin, we’re not that bad,” Jaime said. I involuntarily rolled my eyes. I noticed that Mike, Jaime, and Tony shared a look. I didn’t ask them about it, but it was weird.

“Speaking of, where is the little man?” Savannah asked. I stared at her with big eyes as I almost choked on my water. She just winked at me with a smirk on her lips.

Mike answered. “Don’t know, but that doesn’t matter.” He reached over and took a fry from my tray. “I heard something about a concert?”

***

Music appreciation was after that weird lunch. We were sitting in class waiting for Ms. Pope to give us instructions for the lesson. We were able to work independently on our projects on Tuesday so many of us were hoping that we could do the same today.

“Remember class, we have our checkpoints next Wednesday and Friday. Today and Monday are your last days to work on this next section with your teammates.”

Ms. Pope gave us permission to work. I looked over and sighed. Vic wasn’t in class again. Maybe I could get out of looking stupid if I went to the nurse and complained about my arm hurting from surgery. I already had the cast so that wouldn’t be an unbelievable statement. I thought about it and decided that would be the best course of action. That was until Ms. Pope gave us the chance to use the practice rooms if we needed a quiet space. I didn’t think twice about it and got up and left the classroom.

I went down the hall with my things. I passed by the taken rooms with kids who were either practicing for band or orchestra or were in my class and had gotten there before me. I continued to walk until I reached the room that I always seemed to find myself in whenever I needed space. There was something, or someone rather, that caught my attention.

I looked through the window of the door and saw him sitting on the piano bench with his guitar against his body. He was staring down at his hands, seemingly frustrated that he couldn’t get the chords right. He bit his lip before writing something down on the page in front of him, then went back to strumming the strings.

You should go in, my mind told me.

No, that’s a dumb idea.

Is it?

Yes! He’s mad at me.

But do you want him to be?

No…

I kept looking at him through the window. He was sighing a lot in between playing chords and writing. What was he writing? What was making him so upset? I didn’t want to make him more upset by going in there, but I also didn’t want to keep staring at him through the window like a creeper.

So I sucked it up and opened the door.

Vic turned around when he heard the click of the doorknob. He didn’t say anything to me, just stared, something he’d been doing a lot more of these days. I couldn’t tell if he was still upset with me or was waiting for me to speak first. I went with the latter.

“What’re you working on?” I asked.

“Nothing much, just had some ideas and I wanted to try them out.” I nodded. “Why are you here?”

I bit my lip out of nervousness. “Ms. Pope is letting us work on our projects. The checkpoint is next week.”

“Right.”

We continued to look at each for a minute or two. I still wasn’t sure if he wanted me there or not. His actions made him seem indifferent, so I kept talking to avoid it being awkward.

“So, uh, how long have you been in here? I thought you weren’t at school today.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going to government, so I didn’t. I’ve been in here since lunch.”

“Oh.” I nervously scratched the back of my neck. “Listen-”

“Close the door,” he cut me off. I looked at him questionably. Did he want me to leave? “Come in and close the door,” he answered my unasked question with a small sigh. I followed his instructions and stood against the wall when I was done.

We looked at each other again. I didn’t know how to start the conversation I knew we needed to have, but I knew this was the time to do it. The last time we were in this room I said things out of anger and frustration. Now that that feeling was gone and replaced with guilt, I didn’t know if he’d listen like he had the other day.

“Kellin,” Vic started. I was taken away from my thoughts and focused my attention on him. I watched as he bit his lower lip and sighed before he continued. “I’m sorry.”

I tilted my head to the side. “You’re sorry?”

He sighed again. “Yeah. I owe you an explanation for what happened last week.” I nodded.

“Yeah, you do.” He put his guitar down on its stand and turned his body so he was completely facing me.

“I just…I don’t know where to start,” he said hesitantly.

I looked him dead in the eye as I asked, “Why’d you leave that day?”

I knew he knew what day I was referring to. Vic rubbed his hand over his face before speaking. “I like you Kells, I do. It’s just that I don’t know what to do about liking you.”

“What do you mean?”

He breathed out heavily from his nose. “Before you woke up a doctor had come in and said that there was a chance that you weren’t going to. You’d been out for at least forty-eight hours and they were monitoring your vitals and brain activity after your first surgery. You were stable but they didn’t know why you weren’t waking up. Then another twelve hours goes by and there’s still nothing.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I was scared. I didn’t want to watch you die. I didn’t want to have to go down the hall and tell your mom that her son…” He stopped his sentence short to take a shaky breath.

I took some steps closer to him and sat beside him on the piano bench. I put my hand on top of the one he was resting on his lap. Vic looked at our hands for a second, seeming to calm down before he continued.

“Obviously you woke up and everything was okay, but for two and a half days I didn’t know if I’d ever talk to you again.”

“Then why did you stop talking to me?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m conflicted with things and I needed time to figure it all out.”

“Things?” He nodded. I bit my lip, not knowing if I wanted to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Vic?” He hummed. “Are you out?”

He licked his lips. “No.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Mike knows because he’s my brother and all, but I haven’t told him explicitly. My mom may know because mother’s intuition and shit. I know my dad doesn’t know. Not sure if I ever wanna tell him. Tony’s really astute so he may know or at least have a suspicion. Jaime’s kinda all over the place so who knows what he knows. Other than that, you’re the only person who really knows.”

I hummed in response. There wasn’t anything I could say to that. If he was still in the closet then I could only support him until he was ready to come out.

Vic’s confession did raise a question. “So you ignored me for days because you’re not out?”

He sighed. “It’s not that.” He looked down at our hands; mine was still on top of his. He flipped his hand over so our palms were touching, then he locked our fingers.

“After thinking you were dying and watching you wake up, I just wanted to kiss you. Then the doctor walked in and I realized that I didn’t know how I could do that in public without outing myself. I’m not ready for that yet, but I wanna be for you. I wanna be with you.”

I blushed a little. “That’s sweet, but you don’t need to come out for me.”

“It’s just...I just like that you’re you and you’re not hiding who you are. I wish I could do that. I wanna be able to walk down the hall holding your hand and not care about what anyone would say. I wanna kiss you before class and take you out on public dates. I don’t wanna hide.”

Vic started playing with my fingers with his other hand. I could tell it was a nervous reaction. I’d be nervous too if I’d just spilled my guts like that to my crush.

“So you stopped talking to me because you’re in the closet?” I asked. He looked up at me and shook his head.

“I stopped talking to you because I thought you deserved better. You’re unapologetically you and I’m too ashamed to admit who I am. You made this great group of friends here on your first day. Hell, you stood up to me on your first day without caring about the consequences. And as much as I would like to try to deny it, I have to admit that I kinda found it hot.” I blushed and so did he. I had to clear my throat and regain my composure before I spoke.

“That’s sweet, but you don’t get to decide what I deserve. I like you too. Even though you’re an asshole I think you have some adhering qualities.” He chuckled. “But you ignoring me didn’t add to those.”

He sighed. “I know. That’s kinda why I made the playlist. I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and even if you never went on Spotify and listened to it, I at least knew it was out there.”

I nodded. I knew where he was coming from and I couldn’t blame him for trying.

“Are we good?” he asked after we had sat in a comfortable silence.

I nodded with a smile. “Yeah, we’re good. But the next time something like this happens please be honest with me. You can’t say you like me then push me away.”

“I know, and I will. Promise.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day.”

He shook his head to stop me. “You don’t need to apologize. I deserved it for how I treated you.”

“Let’s just say we won’t be stupid again.”

“I can’t promise that, but I can say that I’ll try.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand that was still holding mine. “So, you think I’m hot?” I asked with a cocky grin.

“So hot,” he answered.

We didn’t have much to say after that so we worked on our project. We were supposed to have a minute of the song recorded so Ms. Pope could grade it but recording in the practice room was terrible.

“The acoustics in here suck,” I complained.

“Yeah, they do,” Vic responded. “Wanna go back to my place and make out?”

I blushed. “W-What?” I stuttered. That came out of nowhere.

“I mean, we can go back to my place and record then make out, but as long as making out is part of it.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Sure we can. Class is almost over. We can leave right now. Or we could make out in the back of my car.”

I rolled my eyes. “But it’s December. It’s cold.”

“It’s December in San Diego.”

“You’re also wearing a hoodie and long pants. That’s how I know it’s cold,” I pointed out.

Vic chuckled. “Fair point, but my offer still stands.”

I shook my head and turned back to my notebook that was in front of me. “Keep it in your pants, Fuentes.”

“Are you sure that’s where you want me to put it?”

My eyes widened. “Shut up!”

“Make me,” he challenged.

I bit my lip to keep from saying anything stupid. Although maybe I wanted to take him up on that…

“You know, you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he said, taking my mind off of the dirty things I was thinking.

“And you’re a jerk,” I argued.

“Sorry, but you’re so easy to mess with.”

I rolled my eyes again. “Can we just work on this project before we fail the checkpoint?”

He chuckled. “Sure, but I’m serious about what I said. My dad soundproofed the basement so Mike and I could practice our instruments. Come over today and we can get the recording done.”

“That sounds good,” I said with a nod.

He had a devilish look in his eyes before he spoke again. “But best believe we’re gonna have some fun when we’re done.” The husky tone of his voice made me blush again which caused him to laugh. “It’s so easy!” he exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. “Fuck you,” I said with a deep scowl on my face.

He still had a smile playing on his lips. “You wanna?”

I scoffed. “Please, I doubt you could handle me.” I didn’t intend for that to sound suggestive, but I saw lust take over Vic’s eyes after that sentence left my lips.

He looked me up and down while biting his lip. My heart began to beat heavily as I held his gaze. He put his hand on my thigh and moved it up before he spoke. “Challenge accepted.”

#Bring Me The Horizon - Can You Feel My Heart #Pierce The Veil fanfiction #Pierce The Veil fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Kellic #Vic Fuentes #Kellin Quinn #Kellic fanfiction #Kellic fanfic #Playlist Love

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thundercuntvirgin · 4 years

Text

One Call Away From A Bad Decision

Read on AO3

Steve is hosting a sleepover for the kids but it comes with a catch-Billy Hargrove has to stay the night. However, the boys find themselves bonding over red wine and childhood disappointment. It may even lead them into a new relationship.

Trigger Warning: homophobia, internalized homophobia, referenced child abuse, karen having a ‘crush’ on billy

*post season 2*

So it turned out Hargrove wasn’t that bad when he didn’t act like an entitled asshole. The party was having a New Years sleepover at Steve’s house, and the whole night was lined up.

Steve had rented a few VHS tapes, gotten a few pints of ice cream, and washed the guest room sheets so they weren’t musty. Then the doorbell rang a half hour ahead of schedule. Steve moved around the kitchen, silent save for the sound of plates and silverware as he set them out on the counter when he heard the doorbell. A grin split Steve’s face. He figured Dustin must be early which meant Mrs. Henderson would stay for a while to ‘keep Steve company’ until the other kids showed up. Dustin would beg her to leave, but Steve just lived for all of her questions, ‘How’s school?’ ‘Have you been eating breakfast?’ ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come over for dinner sometime this week?’

But opening the door wiped the grin off his face. Billy Hargrove leaned against the door frame casually watching Max dig through the trunk of the Camaro, piling her arms with a comforter, pillow, and her stuffed backpack.

“Umn, hey, Max.” Steve said as she bolted up to door, pushing past him to dump her stuff on the dining table. “You really didn’t have to bring all that,”

“You stay there,” she said to Billy, “you come with me,” she said as she took Steve’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. She looked around; making sure no one else was going to hear. “Mom said Billy had to come if I was gonna be able to stay over tonight, it’s a whole thing with you being and teen boy or something, but he has to stay.”

“Oh, well, why can’t he hang out with his friends?” Steve asked, trying to rationalize it all in his mind. Max huffed as if to say ‘I wish.’

“She’s gonna call and wanna talk to him, only problem is that I don’t know when so he can’t leave or else she’ll know we duped her. So are we cool?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess?” Steve said slowly. Max nodded, walking back towards the front door where Billy still stood.

“Am I cleared for entry?” Billy asked, stubbing out a cigarette with the toe of his boot. He seemed tame compared to the last time Steve had seen him outside of school related necessity. At least Steve wouldn’t have broken nose this time, unlike the night at the Byers’ house.

“Yes, but you don’t get to antagonize anyone.” Max bit back.

“There’s an ashtray out back if you wanna smoke some more,” Steve said, not really to Billy, mostly just out into the room since he figured it would go ignored. Billy nodded when Steve pointed a finger through the kitchen.

Steve barely had time to think before another car was pulling up the driveway. Mrs. Wheeler’s station wagon pulled up behind the Camaro, Mike and Will pouring out of the backseat.

“Dustin and Lucas here yet?” Will called as they swung their backpacks over a shoulder.

“Not yet, just Max.” Steve said just as Mrs. Wheeler spoke up.

“Behave, Michael!” she said.

“You never tell Will to behave!” Mike bit back. Steve could see Will softly laughing beside Mike.

“Because I know he will, Mike.” Mrs. Wheeler said, edged with frustration. Mike huffed, turning away from his mother, dragging a grinning Will into the living room. “Oh, Steve, is,” Mrs. Wheeler looked around suspiciously, feigning some sort of innocence. “Is Billy here tonight?”

“Umn, yeah, Max’s mom wanted him to stay.” Steve said. It was so strange how Mrs. Wheeler acted about it. Like she had some high school crush.

*~*

Steve knew Dustin had shown up when the door opened without a knock.

“What the fuck is Hargrove doing here, man?” Dustin said, flinging his bag to the side and dropping to sit on the floor between Steve and Lucas. Will shot him a look as he shuffled cards on the opposite side of the coffee table. “This was supposed to be Party only, we even got El in on it!”

“Yeah, well you’re late, so you don’t get a vote,” Steve shot back playfully.

“Also, of course this is ‘party only’ none of us have any other friends.” Max bit back. Dustin moved to flip her off but Steve smacked his hand down.

“Hey, how about dinner!” Steve said, getting a round of ‘yes’ from around the coffee table. Lucas and Will raced to the kitchen, everyone else following.

“Figured in honor of El’s first sleepover, we should have breakfast for dinner.” Steve said, pulling a few boxes of eggos from the freezer. El’s eyes lit up at the sight of the yellow boxes. “I’ll leave these up to the professional,” he said handing the boxes to El, “And for Will to be in charge of eggs. Everyone else set the table and do as they say!”

The kitchen became a flurry of action, more than it had ever seen before, with Lucas whisking eggs from Will to fry , El showing Mike and Max the perfect way to cook an eggo, and Lucas and Dustin sword fighting with dull butter knives.

*~*

Just as the kids finished eating Steve realized he’d forgotten to offer a plate to Hargrove. Steve searched his mind to see if he could even remember seeing Hargrove eat, even at school. As far as Steve knew Hargrove spent his lunch period outside smoking.

“Okay, you guys start dishes, I’m gonna take a plate out back.” Steve said, Dustin rolling his eyes. Getting another clean plate from the cabinet, Steve loaded the last of the eggs and two leftover eggos onto it, grabbing a fork. He heard them bickering over who had to wash the silverware as he slid open the door to the back patio.

Of all the things Steve expected, what he saw wasn’t one of them. Hargrove had his leather jacket zipped all the way up, a worn looking flannel peeking out the bottom, laid out sleeping on a lounge chair. He looked like he had been scrunched up but fell asleep, spread out like a napping child.

Steve realized he didn’t know how to wake Hargrove without risking death. Steve shifted the plate and fork to his other hand to knock on the side of the house. Hargrove sat up suddenly, head whipping around to stare at Steve. His eyes were big and round, the surprise making him seem less scary, more human.

“I’ve got dinner for you, if you want.” Steve felt a tiny bit more confidant from how off guard Hargrove seemed. He held out the plate and fork for the other boy to grab. Hargrove scrambled out of the chair, walking over to Steve without any swagger, his eyes still a little sleepy looking.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly accepting the plate.

“You can leave it in the sink when you’re done.” Steve said, turning to go back into the house.

*~*

The girls were upstairs getting into bed, the boys fighting over who got to sleep on which part of the couches. Steve wasn’t going to get involved in their scuffle until Lucas smacked Dustin with a pillow and an all-out war was about to start.

Steve could hear the girls laughing from their perch on the stair as he grabbed the pillows and declaring Will king over who got to sleep where. While they bribed Will to let them have a better spot, Steve wandered into the kitchen to wipe the counters down and finish any dishes. The only problem was there was no last plate in the sink to wash. Hargrove hadn’t fucking brought his plate in. If Steve thought about it the plate was probably at the bottom of the pool.

He rolled his eyes, turning to go back outside. When Steve barged outside Hargrove’s head whipped around. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket, knees pulled up towards to chest, cigarette caught between his lips, the cherry red end nearly about to fall off. He was still perched on the lounge chair.

“Where’s the plate?” Steve asked sharply. “I need to wash it.” he added when Hargrove’s shoulders went rigid.

“I already washed your fucking plate and fork so you can stop shoving lemon slices up your ass or whatever you do that makes you a bitch.” Hargrove bit back, dragging his right hand out of his jacket to knock the ash off his cigarette. He ended up stubbing it out in the ashtray on the ground next to the chair.

Steve didn’t bother replying. He felt stupid even though there was no reason to think Hargrove would’ve washed the plate. He turned back inside, sliding the door closed behind him and headed for his dad’s office. The living room had gotten quiet, so Steve was done with the kids for the night.

His Dad always had hard, expensive liquor in his office, but his Mom made sure there was nice wine for guests. Steve grabbed a bottle of wine. It didn’t matter which one cause his Mom and Dad didn’t matter, not tonight.

Walking back through the kitchen, switching lights off as he went, Steve grabbed two mugs and a nutcracker to open the bottle with. On second thought, he went to the living room, quietly grabbing two fluffy blankets before heading outside.

Hargrove side eyes him suspiciously as he walks around him to sit in the lounge chair to the left. Steve passed over a blanket, half expecting it to be thrown in his face. Hargrove just wrapped it around his shoulders, hunching in on himself to cover his knees.

“I don’t know why anyone chooses to live in Mr. Snow Miser’s asshole,” Hargrove said moodily.

“If I give you wine will you shut up about how shitty Hawkins is?” Steve halfheartedly snapped back, pulling the cork out with the nutcracker.

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe its misery,” Hargrove retorted reaching for a mug. He held it as Steve filled it halfway with dark red wine.

Steve filled his own, gently tapping it against Hargrove’s as a shitty toast. They both sat back watching the steam rise off the pool. They sat and drank in silence until Billy sat up, reaching for the bottle.

“You gonna have any more?” he asked, raising the bottle.

“Yeah, just top me off.” Steve said, holding up his mug as Hargrove more in. He was feeling warm, mind buzzing already with strong wine.

Hargrove regarded the three quarters empty bottle for a minute before softly saying “fuck it” and taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Do you ever just wish you could scream?” Hargrove said suddenly. “And it didn’t matter who heard you or saw you. You just got to scream.”

“You’re crazy, Hargrove, but yeah.” Steve said, laughing a little at the absurdity of it.

“Don’t call me Hargrove. If we drink we’re using first names,” he retorted, pulling from the bottle again.

“Yeah, sure man,” Steve brushed off.

“Steve,” Billy said. Steve’s head rolled over to glare at Hargrove. “If you can admit that you wanna scream, I think you can manage to say my name. I’ll even accept legal first names if that butters your fancy disposition,”

“Legal? What the fuck is the difference, man?” Billy side eyed him for a second before sitting up properly.

“What do you think my name is?” he asked.

“Billy, duh, I’m not stupid.” Steve bitched back, a little sleepy from the wine. Billy started laughing a little, then a lot, until he fell over onto Steve’s outstretched legs. Steve just pushed his face away as if it was no big deal to be hanging out with Billy Hargrove.

“My first name is William you asshole!” Billy cackled, taking another swig. Steve’s eyes got wide and he leaned forwards.

“No! You’re fucking with me! That’s not how that works, if your name is William then people would call you Will, that’s how it works!” Steve said, voice pitching upwards.

“William turns into Billy, how have you never heard that!” Billy laughed out, still lying on Steve’s legs.

“I’ gonna call you Billiam!” Steve cackled. Billy’s eyes went wide.

“No you do not! Fuck you!” Billy gasped. He smacked Steve’s thigh, falling off his lounge chair.

“So Billiam, what brings you here tonight?” Steve asked in a fake posh voice.

“Insurmountable toil and grief,” Billy said dramatically. “And you good sir?”

Steve sobered a bit, falling back on his chair. “All the shit I can’t talk about. The shit that makes me wanna scream.” he said softly. Billy turned his head to look at Steve, cheek resting on Steve knee.

“I fucking hate that shit.” Billy said sadly, eyes staring at someplace far away.

“Well since I can’t talk about my shit,” Steve started, downing the last of his mug. “You wanna talk about yours?”

“Sure, I’m feeling lucky” Billy climbed back up in his lounge chair. “My dad has to know every fucking thing I do and nothing is ever good enough for him. Perfect isn’t perfect enough.” He punctuation by taking another swig of wine.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed out, grabbing the bottle from Billy and drinking.

“Welcome to my shitshow of a life, Steve Harrington.” Billy said, flipping off the sky. “He’d lose his shit if he knew I was hanging out with you,”

Steve’s eyebrows pinched together. He glanced at Billy. “Why the hell would he go off about me?”

Everything was silent for a while, the night sounds seeming increasingly loud.

“Because I have the habit of making bad decisions with pretty boys,” Billy whispered.

“I can’t imagine what counts as a ‘bad decision’ for you,” Steve giggled out. He could feel Billy’s eyes boring into him. He turned his head, their eyes meeting, Billy looking stricken.

“Why don’t you tell me if this is a bad decision,” Billy whispered, moving closer to Steve, hand braced next to Steve’s hip. Steve felt slow and sleepy but Billy’s face moving in closer to his was a crystal clear image.

Steve was actually surprised by how soft Billy’s lips were. And how gently he kissed. And how… how delicately he kissed. Billy pulled back first, eyes wide and vulnerable. Immediately his face changed. His eyes shined in a way Steve had never seen before.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Billy whispered frantically. He pulled back, sitting in his chair again, chest heaving. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Steve wasn’t sure why but it scared him how honest and raw Billy seemed. Steve watched as Billy picked the wine bottle up and drained what was left, falling back when he finished.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Steve, I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” he said, rubbing his eyes like he could bring himself to look as Steve.

“Why are you sorry?” Steve asked quietly, not daring to move.

“I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done that.” Billy whispered back. His voice sounded clogged and thick. Like he could barely force the words out.

“What if I didn’t hate it?” Steve asked softly. “What if I maybe wanted to do it again?”

“Your drunk, and not thinking right.” Billy said, voice still wavering.

“I’m tipsy, not stupid. But I would be stupid to lie and say I hated it, to say that I hate you.” Steve sat up to really look at Billy. His eyes were watery and tiny tears were stuck in his lashes. He was biting his lip so hard it was turning white, hands shaking as he wiped at his face.

“No,” Billy whispered. “No, you’re going to regret everything you’re saying in the morning.” it was strange, but Steve couldn’t stand seeing Billy so frantic. He reached out, taking one of Billy’s hands, and leaned forwards. Pressing his lips to Billy’s.

He felt Billy’s breathe stutter, but despite it all he leaned into Steve. All of a sudden Billy surged forwards pushing one hand deep into Steve’s hair and the other clutching at Steve’s shirt. They drug each other closer, lips moving together. Somewhere in the back of his mind Steve knew this was strange—was beyond strange to be making out with the guy who beat your face in. But oddly enough Steve craved it. And it seemed like Billy did too.

They weren’t even doing much, just kissing like middle schooler in a movie theater. Billy’s hand gently tracing through Steve’s hair. The kiss was soft like before, but persistent like they both needed it.

Steve heard the echo of the phone ringing in the kitchen. Billy pulled back. He scrambled off the chair, franticly slid open the door, running inside to answer. Steve followed. He slid the door closed as Billy answered the phone.

“Susan?” Billy asked softly. The person on the phone said something that made Billy flinch a tiny bit. “Yes sir, Max and the other girl are upstairs asleep, all the boys are in the living room.” a long pause filled with Billy staring at the floor, eyes shining again. “Yes sir.” he says again.

The commotion must have woken Dustin up because he sleepily walks into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, glancing between Steve and Billy. Steve just makes a motion for Dustin to go back to bed.

“Of course, no I’m not-I wouldn’t lie-” Billy is cut off by the person on the phone again. Dustin shrugs and turns back towards the living room. “I-yeah, yes sir.”

Billy seems to stare at the floor for a long time after the call is finished. He’s still holding the phone to his ear, the dial tone buzzing loud enough for Steve to hear. Billy’s hands shake as he puts the phone back on the wall, wiping his face. That’s when Steve sees how red his eyes are, tears threatening to leak out.

“Was that you’re dad?” Steve asks, stepping closer.

“Can we just go back outside?” Billy whispers.

“Wanna go to the den? It’ll be warm,” Steve says. Billy softly nods, wiping his face again. Steve takes his hand gently and leads him through dining room and down the hall to the den.

They fall onto the overstuffed couch. Steve’s mother hated the couch but couldn’t be bothered to get rid of it. They sat next to each other just holding hands.

“Are you going to be okay when you and Max go home?” Steve asks quietly.

“It’ll be fine,” is all Billy says. Steve really wants hug him like he would Nancy, but it doesn’t feel like Billy wants that.

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks, half expecting Billy to say he wants to drink or smoke.

“I wanna sit here and not be alone,” he says so quietly Steve thinks he miss heard him. “I just don’t want to be alone.”

Steve grips his hand harder, Billy glancing up to look at Steve.

“I’m almost always alone,” he says like it’s a secret. “There’s always people, but I’m still alone. People want me but they don’t want me, they want this person that they’ve made in their mind.” Steve felt a strange type of comradery bloom in his chest at Billy’s statement

“I kinda get that.” Steve says quietly. They meet eyes. Billy grips his hand back just as hard, intertwining their fingers. Billy glanced away, swallowing thickly, adam’s apple bobbing. He seemed to steady himself before speaking.

“I promise not to be an ass to you, no matter where we are.” he said so softly that Steve thought he imagined it. “I haven’t been fair to you. I was,” he stopped himself to think. “I am angry and mean and I hurt people.”

“I used to be an asshole. It just takes the right incentive sometimes, like people you care about. And I think you care more than you’d like to admit.” Steve said gently. He gently pushed Billy over so he was laying down on the couch. Billy laughed a little. “Now get some sleep, Billiam.”

“Nooo!” Billy whined at the shitty nickname. Steve just fell back onto the arm of the couch, snickering softly.

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jinxthequeergirl · 5 years

Text

After you're gone

Ben hargeeves x reader

Summary: as one of the other 43 kids born that day you where unaware of your abilitys until they took the thing you loved the most ruining your life until you run into a strange group

Warning: swearing

~~~~~

17 years ago:

You slammed the bag on to the table.

"That enough?" the man behind the counter looked up at you and guestured for you to spill it's contents.

You huffed grabbing the bottom of the bag and yanking it to let everything fall on to the table. He leaned forward examining everything.

"Looks like you're a few bucks short kid."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean what I said!"

You narrowed your eyes at him and began to scoop everything into the bag again. "Hold up!" he placed a hand over top of your's stopping you. You froze staring at his hand before yanking it free.

"I'll cut you in on a deal."

"Oh Yea?" you fixed the gloves on your hands and looked at him annoyed. "Sure! You need it and I'm a good guy kid so listen up!" he kicked his legs back up onto the table. "I heard a few guys who owe me money are robbing a bank in town...I feel it's safe to say they aren't bringing me that money....so maybe.."

You huffed. "You have all these men all these residents struggling to make a living yet you send a 13 year old girl to do your dirty work!"

He smirked and shrugged. "We don't call you Robin Hood for nothing."

"You don't call me that." you turned to walk out as he called after you. "Tomorrow afternoon twelve sharp my dear thief!"

You climbed up the stairs to your small room of an apartment.

It wasn't always like this. You thought back to it as you jumped over the two missing steps in the stair.

You where Ten. No.

Nine. You where nine when your mom died and left you to this dump.

"Hey Lindsay." You knelt down and pet the cat outside your door and looked at the older girl. "What the boss say short stack?"

She got you in to this place she was only six years older than you at this point but with the way she acted you would have guessed she was a 60 year old woman trapped in her body.

"I was a few bucks short..."

"Oh?"

"And I have to Rob a bank to pay the rest off."

"Oh! That'll be fun yet again you're his lovely little eran girl ready to swoop in and save the day!"

You rolled your eyes and stepped inside of the apartment. Lindsay may have been the one to take you under her wind in this place but you quickly took her place as favioret and she despised that "Goodnight linds."

"Night brat."

The door slammed shut causing the wall's to shake and flakes of dry wall to crumble to the floor.

You floped onto the matters on the floor and stared up at the ceiling run through your plan for tomorrow.

The plan? There was no plan. You learned pretty easie that there where never plans. If there where they didn't help they just set a guid line of what SHOULD happen and how it SHOULD go but it's not how it works.

You turned over on your side settling on the fact that you would just have to wing it and hope you got what you needed. And enough of it without being caught by the police or the criminals.

"You have exactly two hours to get down there and decide on what it is you plan on doing."

You peered up at Lindsay from your bed sneering. "I know what I'm doing go away!"

"Then you better get going small fry."

You groaned and sat up. "Fine!"

She looked at you with a smirk as you tied your hair up, threw your coat on over your hoodie and grab you bag before sliding the window open.

"Good luck!" you flipped her off before sliding out the window.

The street outside of the bank showed no sighn that a robbery was to take place. You examined it before stepping inside examining the people inside. Nothing. Just normal people not a single one looked out of place or unusual. You sighed and made your way over to a bench waiting for something to happen. You pulled at the fingers on your gloves pulling them halfway off until you stopped and slid them back on. You repetad that process for for a while until something finally happened.

"EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!" your head shot up and you spotted several men with large bags and guns. Finally.

You noticed A few of the men slid into the vault. You stood up and sprinted over to it but some one caught your hood and pulled you down. "What the he-" a boy around your age in a school boy uniform and domino mask sat infront of you and covered your mouth.

You furrowed your brows at him as he peered past the counter. The gun shots from behind you caused you to jump. "Stay here!" he got up and crawled past you. "Wait!" you turned to follow after him but stoped when another kid crashed through the glass ceiling and took two guys out.

The one who tackled you was gone you. looked across the way to see a girl whispering in one of the guys ears. And another not even paying attention as a guy snuck up behind him. "Shit! Hey kid!" you got up and ran to him and sweept his legs out from under him before pulling your glove off and grabbing the guys writst to disarm him.

The man winced in pain as you held his wrist as green started to spread through his veins all the way from there you held his wrist all the way up his arm. He pulled away in fear holding his arm screaming as it continued to travel through his body like a plague eventually leaving him to collapse to the floor.

You stepped back quickly putting your glove back on before turning to the kid. "You alright?"

He stared at you in awe. "You did that?"

You offered a hand as more gun shots ring out and another man fell to the floor beside you. "Yea...no big deal." He was a smaller boy but looked like he was the same age like the other with same outfit and dark neat hair. "Than-"

He was cut off.

"Ben!" you both turned to the rest of the kids. He stepped forward. "Do I have too?" he stepped forward giving you the chance to get out. You ran and hid behind one of the counters.

The boy turned to where you stood but saw you where gone and sighed walking over to the other kids. "I didn't sign up for this..."

You peered over the counter and stared in shock at the monster that demolished all the men left in the vault. "Holy fuck..." the boy named Ben came out of the vault covered in blood. "Can we go home?"

After the gang of kids let all the hostigas go you stuck behind hoping to slip into the vault then out the back. You got up once you though the other kids where gone and headed over. "How old are you?"

You froze and turned to Ben and one of the kids. "Old enough why?"

"Really how old are you? Because If your as old as I think you are that means your like us...that means dad might wanna meet you."

The other kid said. "I'm 13..."

The boys exchanged a look. "I'm Ben this is my brother klaus...he saw what you did too..."

Now:

You sighed to yourself as you climbed up the step to the large house.

"Why am I even doing this?.." you bit your lip And knocked on the door waiting for an answer.

When the door opened both you and the girl on the other side exchanged a surprised look.

"Y/n!"

"Vanya!... Hi!"

"Hi uh its...it's Good to see you...come in!"

"Sorry about your father..." she waved you off as she shut the door. "Its not a big deal..."

Even as a kid you couldn't talk to vanya. You never knew how or what to say. "Oh well I uh read your book!"

"Oh really?"

"Yea I really liked it actually" she gave a heartless chuckle. "At least someone did..."

"I'm taking it they didn't take it well?"

"They hate me." You looked at her. "I...im Sure that's not-"

"It's fine Y/n, What are you doing here?"

"I heard the news about Reginald obviously so I though I would check in on...on klaus...is he here yet?"

She looked at you as you looked around your eyes landing in the window that lead to the yard. You stared at the copper figure that sat outside.

"I haven't see him yet...but feel free to stay I'll let him know your here if I see him." you continued to state and nodded at her. "Ok...ok thanks..."

17 years ago:

"Absolutely not!"

You jumped at the old man's sudden telling at the boys in front of you.

"Dad c'mon she's just like us! You shod have seen what she did to that guy back at the bank!" klaus held your shoulders presenting you to his and bens father.

"She also dosent have a home." Ben steped in front of you trying to persuade Him even more.

"Number 6! Number 4! I do not appreciate you brining this young lady into our home! And attempting to make her one of us which she is not! And will not be!"

You could see three of the other kids looking at you with looks of what you could only read as disgust from behind him.

You shook yourself free from klaus. "You know what it dosent matter I don't wanna be part of your silly little super hero cult anyways!"

"Y/n!" Ben called after you as you hurried to the front door. "No I'm sorry thank for your efforts ben...and klaus but I've been on my own plenty I'll get over it."

You shut the door behind you and hurried down the street to head back home.

"Hey! Hey wait up!" you glanced behind you and found Ben and klaus running after you.

"What are you two doing?"

"Listen kiddo we feel bad for the situation your in and well everything back there so-"

"We're hoping to be friends." Ben cut klaus off again. "Yea!" klaus wrapped his arm around you as the three of you continued to walk.

You smiled and nodded. "Alright..."

"C'mon lets get something to eat!" Ben grabbed your hand and lead you down the street

#umbrella academy x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader

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honeylikewords · 5 years

Note

Santi proposing? And how involved would he be with the wedding planning?

Aw, that’s so sweet! I already wrote one iteration of a possible Santi proposal before (viewable here), but I think it’s good to have options, so let’s consider what a different proposal from that darling man might look like!

Santi is the kind of guy who believes in lifelong commitments. He is fully willing to invest his entire life in something he believes in, whether that’s the service of his country, the protection of his mother’s homeland, his friends or, in more recent years, his beloved.

Now a man in a deeply committed relationship, Santi knows he wants to get married, and knows he wants to spend the rest of his life working with, for, and alongside his sweetheart in all that he does. But what he struggles with is how to ask her to marry him, since he wants to ask her in a special, loving, one-of-a-kind way that will show her just how much he loves her.

He agonizes over how to ask, running through hundreds of different scenarios in his head like the tactician he is. He worries himself over rings, over locations, over phrasing of the actual proposal itself; sometimes, instead of coming home after work, he’ll drive to the park and sit on a bench reading his WIP of the proposal from his phone aloud to himself so he can hear what it sounds like, often making changes or altogether scrapping the WIP and starting over.

Eventually, he’s able to narrow down a few details, knowing that he doesn’t want to do the proposal in a too-public location because he absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, hates and despises people who make big public debacles of their proposals and engagements. There’ll be no skywriting for this man, no sir. Plus, he wants his sweetheart to have the dignity of a “no” option; public proposals essentially force the proposed-to into saying “yes” even if they don’t want to in order to avoid embarrassment and harassment, and Santi wouldn’t dream of putting his beloved in a position like that. Instead, he plans on doing the proposal in a private spot, but somewhere that, if she felt she had to leave, she’d be able to safely go on her own and take time away from him, should the answer be “no”.

He also narrows down what kind of ring he wants to propose with; it’s a small, thin-banded gold ring that he picked specifically for its vintage charm, its jewel not ostentatious or gaudy but rather more a tasteful accent set into the classy, filigreed band. It’s almost floral in its shaping and the details carved into the metal, reminding him of something one might see in a museum. But it’s his to give to her, and he keeps it in a neat little black box, sometimes fidgeting with the box as he paces and thinks about how he’s going to propose.

Finally, Santi sits down and makes his decisions. He decides to forgo having a written-out proposal; he already knows in his heart what he wants to say, and he doesn’t need a practiced, stilted, word-for-word reading of a pre-written piece that may not match the mood of the moment. He wants to be honest and present with her, so he stops himself from going overboard and just decides to do it. He’s going to go home, tell her how he feels, and allow her to make the choice she feels is best.

As he drives home from work the day he intends to do it, he finds himself both panicked beyond belief and strangely calm, as if standing in the eye of the hurricane. Santi is both entirely unprepared and ready as he’ll ever be, and he’s tired of waiting. Passing the parks of kids playing with their families, Santi smiles to himself; if she agrees to marry him, they’ll be making the beginnings of their own families, and maybe, one day, he’d be one of those dads standing in the park, watching their kid playing junior league soccer.

Before he knows it, Santi arrives at the apartment they share, hovering in the hallway. He stops before the front door, taking in deep, steady breaths, slow and assuring.

“You can do this,” he says softly to himself. “You can do this.”

He knows he won’t be going too far out on a limb; after all, in the years they’d been dating, growing more intimate and more entwined into one another’s lives, they’ve, of course, talked about marriage. It’s come up often; she wants to get married, and so does he. She wants kids and so does he. They’re on the same page. She’s even told him “I’d be happy to marry you, when you’re ready”, so he knows, somewhere inside himself, that this is all going to be okay.

But another, more anxious part of himself, gnaws on its own bones with fear that she’ll say no and leave him. Some panicky inner voice frets that she’ll reject him so wholly and so entirely that he’ll break on the molecular level and dissolve into particles, unable to ever be repaired again. Still, he has to try. The worst case scenario is a no: the best case scenario is all his dreams come true. It’s a gamble well worth the taking.

He unlocks the door and steps inside quietly, trying not to cause a stir, but he hears the TV turned on to some home improvement show and some sizzling in the kitchen, the familiar smell of cooking vegetables wafting through the air. He smiles when he hears his beloved humming to herself, drumming her fingers on the counter as she stirs the popping, snapping food in the pan on the stove.

“Hm hmm hm hmmm, I wanna cut to the feeling--”

“Hey,” Santi says, leaning against the doorway that separates the kitchen from the main living room. She turns around and smiles at him, nudging her hip towards the stove.

“Stir fry night. Thought we could do veggies and rice since the chicken from the other night left a bit of a metaphorical and literal sour taste in my mouth.”

“I still can’t figure out how you burned it like that,” laughs Santi, coming to join her as he puts his hands on her hips and rests his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve seen you do chicken a hundred times, and it never comes out so... burnt and gooey at the same time.”

“I have two running theories,” she suggests. “One is that I accidentally deglazed with vinegar instead of wine, which made the pan start to congeal weirdly and thus burn in that really, really gross way. The other is that I’ve been hexed, but only hexed in a way that damages my cooking. Thoughts?”

“Much as a hex story would be a great one to tell at your next campfire,” Santi murmurs, kissing her neck, “I’m assuming you just mixed up the red wine vinegar and the actual red wine.”

“Darn. I was really hoping we could sell the movie rights to my hex story and be rich off the royalties from what would clearly be a very successful kitchen-horror film franchise.”

Santi chuckles as he rubs the ball of his nose against the column of her neck, delighting himself when he feels her shiver under his attentions. He kisses her lightly, almost teasingly, the way he knows drives her mad, and suddenly the silly atmosphere of the kitchen starts to heat into a much more romantic one.

He glides his hands up and down her waist, all the way down to her hips, smoothing down her clothes and just taking in the solid warmth of her. Placing small pecks against her skin, he sighs.

“I love you,” says Santi, his eyes closed as he takes in the moment and savors it, holds it in his heart as a talisman to give him strength. “You know that, right?”

Her hand comes up and gently scratches his hair as she continues stirring the vegetables, an acknowledging hum leaving her chest while she pets him. Santi always melts when she works her fingers through his thick, curly hair; nothing makes him so pliant and soothed as the sensation of her touch on his scalp.

“I know, baby. I love you, too.”

“I just... want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says gently. “All my years. Would you... want that, too?”

She takes a moment, turning off the burner and pushing the skillet of vegetables back a few inches. Then, she turns around and links her arms around Santi’s waist, hooking her hands on the small of his back and smiling up at him, her eyes soft, sincere, loving. She nods and presses up to kiss his chin, then lowers her head and rests her forehead on his shoulder, swaying with him for a few seconds.

“Of course I do,” she replies. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with every day.”

“Maybe our kids?”

At that she puts one hand on his chest and rubs affectionately, and he looks down to see her shy, excited smile. She seems both present and distant, and he knows that look; it’s the same one he gets when he daydreams about what their kids would be like.

“Yeah. I’d like to spend every day with our kids, too. You and the kids.”

Her voice is sincere, setting a fire in Santi’s belly that can’t be put out. He presses on, invigorated, needing to know what will come next.

“So... then, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?,” she hums, tapping her fingers along his chest dreamily.

“Do you like the last name Garcia?”

She pauses, looking up from his chest, broken from her reverie by his strange question. She blinks at him a few times, then seems to realize there’s something about to happen. Santi smiles at her, even though his brows set together in an anxious knot, and he reaches into his pocket to pull out the ring box.

As she gasps, Santi lowers himself into a kneeling position (not without some grunting and sharp pains; he should have known better than to think he, of all people, would have an easy time getting onto his knees) and takes her hand, opening the ring box with his free one. The ring sparkles under the kitchen lights and he gazes up at her with reverence, devotion, and pure, unmitigated love.

“Because, well, if you do... we can share it.”

For a heartbeat, she stares at the ring, flabberghasted and speechless. Then she turns and stares at him before her expression shifts from blank shock to brilliant excitement, and she drops to her knees and kisses him, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Santi, that was so cheesy!,” she giggles, hiccups of tears beginning to bubble up into her words. “B-but I love it, and I love you, and I want to be a Garcia, I want to be your Garcia, let’s be Garcias-es together, oh, Santi--”

Her words run together, sentences bleeding into one another as she intersperses her words with fervent kisses, and Santi half forgets the ring as he clings to her and kisses her, his joy so abundant and all-consuming that he can hardly feel anything else except joy, joy, joy.

They stay like that on the kitchen floor for a good, long while, wrapped up in each other with kisses and breathed words of love and gratitude, an unbreakable bond forming between them as they lay in one another’s arms. When Santi finally manages to compose himself enough to slide the ring onto her finger, they’re sitting on the linoleum floors, backs pressed to the cabinets, holding onto one another like passengers in a lifeboat, as if they’re the only two people in the world.

And, for a moment, they are the only two people in the world; at least, to one another.

As for Santi’s involvement in the wedding, he’s both very specific and not at all picky about what happens. That sounds paradoxical, but it’ll make a little more sense when contextualized and explained.

The first and foremost thing is that Santi, without a doubt in his mind, does not want a big wedding. He does not want hundreds of guests, he does not want a big, splashy affair, he does not want exorbitant and expensive locales, he does not want any of it. He wants it to be a small, private event for him, his wife, and their families (and closest friends). That’s all he asks.

He’s somewhat religious and would prefer to have a few of the Catholic rites of marriage involved, but understands that if his wife is of a differing religious background that they can have an interfaith wedding with presence from both their faiths. He just wants it to be the kind of wedding that his mother would have been proud of, for her memory and for his own comfort.

Aside from that, he’ll be as involved as his bride-to-be wants. He doesn’t want to do any big stuff and thinks they can have a meaningful wedding without throwing money at things like cake or dresses or whatever, but he also understands that, for a bride, it can be a very special time, so he wants to be respectful of that. Plus, he’s got money enough to make her comfortable on her wedding day, so he doesn’t mind spending a little here and there to help her feel special on her big day.

Still, he’d like to keep it low-key and simple, so the wedding probably ends up being a tasteful, rather rustic affair more centered around the togetherness of the event than the idea of it being the Party Of The Century(TM). I mean, it’s not like it won’t be fun, but it’ll be more about the community of the experience, the showing of their love and dedication, than about the money or the expense or the showmanship.

So Santi and his bride end up doing just some very basic shopping, but they make sure that everything they buy is meaningful to them. Her bouquet will be special to her, her dress will be special to her, her veil special to her. They’ll be keepsakes, not just trinkets, for the two of them to preserve in their memories and to pass down as heirlooms.

Heck, Santi would love it if, in fact, most of the wedding stuff was traditional heirlooms from their families. If her wedding dress was handed down to her by someone she loved, that’d make him really happy. If her veil was from someone who was important to her, that’d be fantastic! If these aspects of their wedding could show the importance of their families, communities, and cultural heritages, he’d be overjoyed, because that’s all he wants from his wedding. To show the world that he is hers and she is his, and that, together, they are now part of their respective communities as one, and that they’re here because of the people they love and who have loved them.

It’s not that he’s a cheapskate, it’s that he’s a sentimentalist; he wants their wedding to be about the meaning, the symbolic and internal value of what they’re doing, not just the flash and panache of it. For him, it’s not about having the most stylish wedding, but the most meaningful one. That’s all.

That all sounds really round-a-bout and corny, but it’s how he feels, and how he wants to go about structuring his wedding.

Oh, and he’s going to be wearing his best dress uniform from the service when he gets married. No question.

#long post #gif warning #santiago garcia #messages #anonymous #holy matrimony #i just HAD to finish this tonight i couldn't let it sit in my inbox a moment longer #im also now tempted to just Go Off about various wedding hcs for santi but that's a different post for a different day

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inkabelledesigns · 5 years

Text

When we were younger roleplayers

So a friend of mine recently uploaded an older comic she did detailing an experience from her youth involving her first time roleplaying. This story really speaks to me, so I’ll link it here for you to see.

https://twitter.com/WolfenWingsShop/status/1135553476526821377

You know, this makes me wanna tell some of my own roleplaying stories, because boy do I have a few. ^^’’’ My nutcracker friends Freckle and Pepper hear be joke about ‘The Night of Angst Mountain’ far too much, but that’s only been within the past year. The story I’d like to tell you today come from when I first came online, back when my only account was on YouTube and we roleplayed in the comments sections of our channels.

Let me tell you the story of dreamerofchaos1 and her first time working as one of the Freedom Fighters.

Let’s set the stage. I was 14 years old, the year was 2011, and I had finally been deemed old enough to get a YouTube account. I’d asked my folks if I could have it for my birthday that year, which is March 29th. On April 2nd, my dad made a YouTube account for himself and then helped me to make mine, just so he could keep an eye on me should I ever need his help, but for the most part he wasn’t watching what I was doing. I had made this account intending to post tribute videos, you know, those fan art slideshows set to a popular song, and that is what I started out doing, but during that summer, I ended up hanging out with a bunch of roleplayers, and sometimes it was hard to distinguish fiction from reality. I’m still not sure how that started or how I ended up meeting these people, but we were an interesting bunch. A lot of this is really fuzzy for me

To start, even though we called ourselves the Freedom Fighters, it wasn’t at all the Freedom Fighters from the Sonic SatAM or Archie comics. We had a Sally, Tails, and Sonic who were barely present, otherwise, it was a lot of fan characters (most of which were recolors of Sonic, Tails, and Amy), along with an emo version of Kirby, Stitch and Angel from the Lilo and Stitch TV series, and a few others that referenced other franchises. We had a lot of fun on fictitious scenarios together, having picnics, fighting the Suppression Squad, it was a good time.

I didn’t stand out a ton among the good guys, but I definitely had my stuff together a little better. I didn’t have a character when I started interacting with everyone, but I developed one around the theme of my username named Dreamer. They were a tanooki that was an imaginary friend abandoned by their creator, a little girl named Ruth, that needed belief from other people in order to exist. Note that I refer to them as a ‘they.’ At that point in time, nobody online knew what my gender was, they all just kind of assumed I was a guy, and I didn’t say anything about it. I specified that my character was genderless, since why would an imaginary friend need to have a gender? But because you basically WERE your character unless you were in YouTube’s Inbox system, everyone thought I was a dude. To be honest...at the point in time, all of my friends outside of the web were dudes with the occasional girl that was super tomboyish. I was the girly one, I could never be “one of the guys,” and more than anything, that’s what I wanted. I’ve grown out of that now as an adult, I’m much happier just being me and not worrying what other people think about my body parts. I never directly lied about my gender, it was more that nobody ever asked, but eventually I did come clean about it. Unfortunately, the minute people found out I was a girl, my PMs (private messages, which are the same as DMs, but there was some amount of respect in actually keeping it private back then) got flooded with boys that wanted cybersex out of me, which was disgusting and utterly embarrassing, but that’s a story for another day.

The Suppression Squad was the main group of enemies, hell, the character you saw causing trouble the most was Miles, aka the Anti-Tails from Moebius/Anti-Mobius. That’s where I found two of my closer friends, Venice and Violet. Venice was the Anti-Silver, a fanmade concept as Silver never officially had an Anti version in the comics, using the concept art of Silver from Sonic 06 back when he was Venice the Mink. Violet was a fan character who was his girlfriend. Venice played a lot of different characters though, including a villain named No-Heart that had some Kingdom Hearts inspired elements. Sadly Venice, or rather Wyatt, dropped off the face of the earth, I never saw him again after YouTube changed its channel layout and everyone gave up our games there, but I do hope he’s doing well wherever he is. Same with Violet, or rather Whitney, I saw her a few times on deviantART, but not much.

There are a few roleplays that stick out to me from that time. No Heart stealing Dreamer’s heart and having them fight for the villains temporarily is one of the finer memories, hell, when I had her betray everyone and join the bad guys for real later on was quite fun. Duking it out with an evil clown and Anti-Guy from Paper Mario was kind of cool too. But the one that really sticks out to me is the one with Albert Wesker. Now, Albert Wesker is a Resident Evil character to my understanding, but I have no idea what his story is, and I wasn’t smart enough to look it up as a kid when this was going down. This guy came out of hecking nowhere, I never did learn who played him in the end. I remember he was going after everyone with needles, and once pricked, they’d be under his control. Dreamer of course had ended up kidnapped and trapped in wherever his domain was. Being the rebellious and narrow-minded child that I was, I had Dreamer go off on a long speech about how Wesker would never win, and good would always prevail over evil, blah blah blah, it had to have sounded so stupid and naive to him.

And then he killed my character. That had never happened before. Another player ended up godmodding them back to life with a “revival seed,” but like? It was so garbage. I felt so bad about it after the fact, like yeah, we beat the bad guy, but I felt like a dirty cheater, and I was! But it dawned on me why it happened later on in time. There was no formal system to how any of this worked, just a set of unspoken boundaries that were never crossed, and therefore a lot of godmodding happened, where people would be defeated who shouldn’t have been, powers were unfair, etc. But the thing is, I was one of the few who ever bothered to get creative with my attacks and have some sort of strategy, which in turn meant that I was often the one doing most of the fighting. During the Wesker stuff, I was the only one online that actually had any of that going on, the rest were content to play damsels in distress, that’s why my character got revived. I think Wesker showed up one more time after that and there was a fair fight before they disappeared, but dang. It was an interesting experience. I think it was the fact that I was the only one doing anything in battle that I opted to join the bad guys for a while, not to mention the good guys weren’t all that great to me. There was a lot of hugging and saying “you’re one of my best friends” all the time, but no one meant it, it was just fluff.

I wasn’t there for fluff, I was there for action, to do something, to challenge myself. Yeah, I wanted to make friends, friends with respectable people who were interested in actual plotlines. But I didn’t find that there, I didn’t find that anywhere in an RP community up until recently. Things have changed with my style over the past eight years. I’m a lot slower to jump to combat nowadays, in fact fighting hardly ever comes up, which is nice, even though I do have times where I miss it. I think I’ve realized that I’m happier being in a smaller group, about three people, where we ask each other about the plot and figure out where its going with a mix of improv and planning. One day though, I’d love to run an RP blog where I invite a bunch of people to participate in the chaos, one where I get to run the story and challenge them to survive. That was the idea behind OATS, maybe one day I’ll be able to run it. For now though, I’ve got some bigger fish to fry than roleplays. ^^’’’ Still, it was fun to reminisce on this, I hadn’t thought about this for a while.

#rambling #roleplay history #life when I was 14

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 6 years

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unlonely [michael m. x reader] pt.3

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

i looked at the ending of this fic and i told meg “someones gonna request that.”

also sorry if this is kinda long sfkhsdf i couldnt rly split it into another part without feeling choppy

warnings: uhhh i guess slight nsfw shit at the very end but its a joke

Monday seemed a lot more dreary than anything else. Michael begrudgingly went to school due to both of his moms making him, despite the fact that Jeremy was the only person who still hadn’t woken up. The two of you kept debating going during lunch to check on him, but considering how long it’d take to get to the hospital - you settled on waiting until after school, and take lunch to get some actually decent food after eating mostly hospital food that entire weekend. The rest of class was spent figuring out where to go, before settling on a McDonald’s not far from the school - considering it shouldn’t take too long to get food and get back in time for your next class. So the two of you end up in a booth, a large fry split between the two of you, the smell of coffee strong as you watched Michael stir in a packet of sugar, and the topic of Jeremy Heere nonexistent as you talked about anything and everything else.

After the next coffee that Michael bought, you debated asking him about something that hadn’t left your mind since Friday. You traced your thumb along the cup of your strawberry shake, letting the cold distract you for a moment, before you finally looked back up to Michael, idly stirring his coffee almost completely robotic at this point. You extended your leg, nudging your foot against his ankle to get his attention, and his attention finally flickered back to you, the coffee stirrer slipping from his fingers and left spinning on its own before finally slowing to a stop.

He stared at you, hand hovering above his coffee, as if he was still holding the little stick. “What?”

You bit back the flood of questions, finally managing to come up with a single sentence. “I think we need to talk about something.” He tensed. You immediately cleared it up: “we need to talk about that kiss, Michael.”

Michael slowly exhaled, his shoulders falling after a moment. Did he forget? You weren’t sure - but he slowly nodded, before realization struck. “Shit. Shit. Fuck, [y/n], I forgot that like... actually happened, and I didn’t even ask you or anything- shit-”

You reached out, placing your hand on his own, as you’d done so many times before in an attempt to calm him. “Michael,” you started, “... it’s okay.” He froze underneath you, staring at you. “I mean it. It’s fine.” You lowered your voice slightly, before speaking once more, “I kind of liked it.”

He looked down to his coffee. “You did?” He finally asked, not looking back to you as he started growing slightly flustered. “You don’t have to like... lie or anything-”

“I’m not, Michael.” You ran your thumb around the rim of your shake again, “look... I don’t want to start dating or anything right now.”

“That’s okay-”

“I want to like... spend more time with you. Trying that stuff,” you said, face becoming warm, “like. I wanna do couple-y stuff before we like... officially date, I guess. I mean, if we do-”

“Like... go on dates?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Go on dates. Maybe... hold hands?” You shrugged.

There was a little mischievous glint in his eye. “Damn...” Michael smiled, “that’s pretty fucking kinky, [y/n].”

You fought back a smile, stealing a couple fries. “Don’t kinkshame me in my own home, Michael.”

“We’re in McDonald’s-”

“I know what I said.”

“Okay,” Michael started, “there’s uh... a froyo place we can go to? Tomorrow after school?” He drummed his fingers against the table, “I think you’d like it - plus like... it’d be nice. Or we can just... go to the mall? If you want?”

“I’ve been wanting pretzels lately,” you sort of smiled, “so... I’m down for the mall?”

He nodded slowly, before his smile fell slightly. “But-” He started, and you sort of instinctively knew what had come to mind.

“If something happens, his dad will contact you or your moms, okay?” You said, voice soft, “it’ll be okay. We’re still gonna see how he’s doing later,” you gave him a small smile, trying to calm any fear he had concerning Jeremy, “it’ll be okay, Michael.”

He took in your words, before finally nodding. “Yeah. It’ll be okay.” He repeated, more to reassure himself than anything else.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, Michael’s music playing at a low volume in the background while neither of you really spoke. And really, what would you have talked about with Jeremy on your minds? You never asked what happened backstage, and truly you never wanted to. Whatever had happened had terrified Michael, and you didn’t want to bring up bad memories to him. If he wanted to tell you, then that was his decision to make - until then, you gave him the time he needed to recover from that trauma. Something told you that he’d do the same for you.

His hand dropped from the steering wheel, offered to you. You glanced back up to his face, his attention never leaving the road, and slowly, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers closed around your hand, squeezing it tightly as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. He only let go long enough for the two of you to get out of the car: the moment you were back at his side, his hand slipped into yours, intertwining fingers. He stole a glance to you, making sure that this is okay, right? before you gave him a little smile and a single nod, squeezing his hand a little. The two of you made your way up to the floor where Jeremy’s room was, knowledge courtesy of his father - only to find the man missing, and you assumed he must have gone to work or maybe gone to get food. Michael squeezed your hand at the name Goranski, Rich written alongside the same room at Jeremy’s. You pulled Michael away, heading towards the room, under the excuse that there was no use avoiding it.

A nearby nurse that was standing outside of Jeremy’s room, who’d been toying with an empty cup of water he’d been drinking, glanced over to the two of you as you approached. “You two were with, uh,” he nodded his head in the direction of Jeremy’s door, “him, right?” Michael nodded, and the man continued on, “there hasn’t been any updates. Sorry, kids.”

“Oh.” Michael frowned, taking a step away to leave.

“But,” he said, lowering his voice, “I think he’s recovering.” He took a step over to you and Michael, “look - I can’t tell you what’s going on, mainly because I don’t know, but...” He glanced around, the hallway nearly empty, “the other kids that showed up Friday reported something about ‘missing’ something.” He pressed his lips together, “I’m assuming your friend is just... recovering from that.”

.And then he stepped away, excusing himself, only for Michael to stop him. “Is Rich awake?” A quick nod was all the two of you were given.

You looked to Michael, biting at your bottom lip. “Should we go talk to him?” You asked, lowering your voice to a whisper.

He nodded, focus still down the hallway where that nurse had exited. “Yeah - yeah, I think we should - or, maybe you can-” He stopped, “yeah. Let’s go see Rich.”

Opening the door to the hospital room felt like a violation, the sound of the door clicking open feeling too loud, too strong, too forceful. But the two of you walked into the room, the lights off and only the window illuminating the scene inside. You saw Jeremy first, eyes shut and chest slowly rising and falling, an IV attached to his arm. Michael tensed beside you, taking in the sight of Jeremy as well, and you looked back only to be met with a look that lied, saying he was fine and this was fine when you could tell he was barely holding himself together. He hadn’t seen Jeremy since Friday - neither of you had, but then again... Michael was the last person to see Jeremy. With a single step further into the room, you were caught, sort of tugged back by Michael who stood there, statuesque.

“Michael?” You whispered, and he slipped his hand out of yours.

“I’m gonna wait outside. Just...” Michael lowered his voice even more, barely above a whisper, “ask Rich about the SQUIP.” He gazed past you the entire time, and he turned, leaving the room. You didn’t move until the door clicked shut behind him, before turning and taking another step into the room, another bed now fully visible to you. Your attention didn’t leave Jeremy.

“You Jeremy’s friend?” A voice greeted you, and you turned to see a tired looking Rich Goranski in a body cast, a burn scar that was barely visible in the dimly lit room creeping up his neck.

You shook your head, turning your attention from unconscious, hurt, Jeremy to Rich Goranski. You stood at the foot of his bed, unsure of what to say. “Can I sit?” You finally asked, “sorry - I know that like... you don’t know me or anything-”

“It’s fine.” He nodded at the foot of his bed, “sit. I could, uh... use some company that’s not a nurse.” He watched you sit, before finally speaking again, “you’re headphones-kid’s friend, then.”

“Yeah.” You said, before finally realizing you’d never spoken to Rich Goranski before. “[y/n].”

“Rich.” He simply stated, “but, uh,” he sort of smiled, “you probably know that.” He paused. “We have math together.”

Did you? You paused, thinking back. This far into the school year and you couldn’t remember if Rich Goranski, the boy with the red streak in his hair who tends to be trouble, was in your damn math class. But after a moment, you remembered: back of the room, towards the teacher’s desk, because Rich was trouble and that was the only place to keep an eye on him. You didn’t pay that much attention to the back of the room. “Oh.”

“You didn’t know that, did you?”

You shook your head slowly. He chuckled softly at that, and you sort of crack a forced smile. “So, uh...” You licked your lips, trying to find a good way to move from one topic to the next, before giving up. “I wanna know about the SQUIP.”

He stared at you, before sighing. “Shit. So, uh... I guess Heere said shit - look, it’s not that bad, it helped-” And then he stopped, “fuck, no, it didn’t. The SQUIP is this... pill that has a supercomputer inside of it. ‘sposed to like... make you cool, smart, hot - shit like that. I, uh, had one and it said that Jeremy could benefit from one too, and I thought that, sure, get some fucking money to work on my truck, let’s do it.” He paused, “aaand then mine wanted to like... I don’t know, take over the school or some shit.”

“... What about the fire?”

He licked his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. “That was, uh... really, really stupid. It started malfunctioning or something since, uh, I learned a while back that Mountain Dew Red was supposed to get rid of that shit and I was gonna find some and take care of it - and... then I was here.” He frowned, "and it fucking hurt. Like. I woke up, and it was gone. I don’t fucking know how or why - but I don’t really give a shit, [y/n].”

You looked over to Jeremy. “What about him?”

“What about him? Look, uh... I dealt with that shit for over a year and when I woke up after - I dunno, a week? - Jeremy was carted a few days later.” Rich looked over, “so, uh... he should wake up soon.”

“Everyone else was back in school today.” You said, “so... they didn’t have it as long, then?”

He nodded quickly, “yeah, basically.” He stared at you for a moment, before finally deciding to speak again, “what’s up with you and headphones-kid?”

“Michael.” You shrugged, “we’re close. We’ve been friends for a while I guess-”

“Yeah, but are you two just... touchy friends or are you dating touchy? Does he have a boyfriend? Or-”

“We’re just friends, Rich,” you lied, finally standing, “thank you. Get well soon, okay?” You smiled a little, “Middleborough misses you.”

The last thing you heard before you left was Rich chuckling, making some minor comment under his breath.

The Menlo Park Mall was usually busy after school, due to the crowd of teenagers and children dragging along friends or parents being finally able to do so, but you didn’t mind it. Michael held your hand the entire time, keeping himself anchored to you with the excuse of not losing you in any crowds. With a nod and a smirk, you listened to the lie as he refused to let go of your hand any other time - not that you were complaining. You liked holding Michael’s hand. It was a simple gesture but it was enough. Upon his insistence, the two of you split the price for pretzels and found an empty table in order to share treats and a nice little chat. It was nice - even if you were sort of unsure whether this was a date date or just the two of you hanging out as more-than-friends (although a part of you wondered if there’s a difference there). You noticed how pretty Michael’s eyes are. You noticed how flustered he got when you told him he has pretty eyes, all smiles and red dusting his cheeks as he looked down for a moment in an attempt to regain his composure.

And then his phone, sitting on the table next to his soda, finally buzzed. As much as you hated to admit it - you’d hoped that maybe it would have come later, but the moment the words popped up, Michael stood. He went to apologize when you stopped him.

“I get it, Mikey.” You forced a smile, forced the nickname, trying to convince him and yourself that this was okay, “let’s go see him.”

Half of the drive to the hospital was filled with Michael’s mumbling about what he’d say to Jeremy, before he finally lit up and started babbling on about what happened with the SQUIPs - something he’d been piecing together over the past few days. That’s when he finally opened up to you about everything - how everyone had been “squipped” and how they’d all been connected, communicating with one another, how the Mountain Dew Red apparently fucked with the signal they’d all been sharing and destroying one of them was enough to destroy the rest. It was nice to see Michael get excited about something science-y, but a pit rested in your stomach as you mulled over the thought that your date has sort of been ruined, and then guilt intermingled with that because it was Jeremy and Jeremy was also important to Michael.

The question that’d been gnawing at the back of your mind finally made it’s way into the air. “Are you going to tell Jeremy about us?”

He pressed his lips together, staring at the road ahead. “I mean... do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, leaning back, “I mean - we’re not... official yet, right?” You paused, mulling the thought over. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Not yet, I mean.”

“Okay.”

You blinked in awe of his casual acceptance - no questioning at all. “Okay?”

“Yeah! I mean - look, uh... Jer and I should probably, like... talk, right?” You nodded, and he continued onward, “so... maybe saying “by the way, I’m dating [y/n], they’re pretty baller,” isn’t like... great since he just woke up?”

“Yeah,” you smiled a little, “yeah - we’ll wait. And then we’ll tell Jeremy together.” He extended a hand to you. You smiled widely, taking it and squeezing his hand. “Dork.” He smiled at that. Your dork.

When the two of you reached Jeremy’s hospital room about ten minutes later, you slipped your hand out of Michael’s and said that you were gonna hang back for a bit. Give them some privacy, let them talk - and maybe you’ll go get a cup of coffee or something. Michael lingered in front of you for a moment, before smiling and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and thanking you - for being there, you assumed - before heading into the room. Wandering through the hallways, you managed to get pointed in the direction of a coffee machine by a passing nurse. You purposefully took a while, standing and trying to make your decision before settling on something that sounded half-decent. The hallway was quiet when you returned, leaning against the wall and waiting for your coffee to cool off a bit before you burned your tongue badly.

Twenty minutes and one sorta shitty coffee later, Mr.Heere arrived, looking tired but put together enough for the moment. You couldn’t really blame him - his son’s been in the hospital for a few days, and now he’s finally woken up after who knows what happened between them. He looked you over for a moment, and you realized that you probably looked tired as fuck too. High school did that to a person. But he smiled at you, the guilt pooling in your stomach because you were only there for Michael, Jeremy wasn’t your friend and he wasn’t going to be and looked towards the hospital room door before finally addressing you.

“Michael’s in there, isn’t he?” Right on the nose.

You slowly nodded, “yeah - I told him I’d give him and Jeremy some space.”

“Oh.” He then beamed at that, “thank you.” Something about Jeremy’s dad’s presence radiated warmth. Maybe it was because he sort of reminded you of your own dad - hardworking, but trying. Placing one hand on the doorknob, he turned to address you. “Do you want to see him?” He asked, and you slowly nodded because the small, concerned glances from nurses were starting to get to you.

The last time you were there, the lights had been off and the room had been dead silent, the air tense. This time, you could still feel tension - albeit less than before, and the lights had been flickered on and you could hear Jeremy and Michael chatting happily across the room - a curtain pulled shut between the hospital beds. Something about how alive Michael sounded plucked at a heart string, but you dismissed it quickly. Jeremy just woke up, you told yourself, of course he’s happy.

You realized how long it’d been since you heard Jeremy’s voice - and now there was a slight strain hidden behind it, lacing underneath his tone. “I don’t get it. after everything I did... you were still there for me. Why?” You honestly wondered the same thing. Because Michael’s a good person, you mustered up in the back of your mind, because Michael cares about people and you two were best friends and Michael’s not the kind of dick who just abandons his best friend.

“I can’t take all the credit,” Michael said, amusement in his voice. “Your dad can be surprisingly persuasive.”

As if on cue, you watched Jeremy’s dad cross the room to finally go greet his son. You stopped at the foot of Rich’s bed, looking over and giving him a little wave and a smile - and you honestly liked how Rich sort of lit up at that, nodding his head in the direction of where Jeremy is with a look that purely said I told you so. And then he mouthed a single word - go.

So you did. You took cautious steps over, peering around the curtain to the reunion between father and son, between best friends. It took another step to have Jeremy notice your presence.

“I- uh, I’m sorry,” he started, “I don’t - I think you have the wrong room-”

Michael spoke up first, walking over to your side, hand grazing against your own for a slight second. “It’s cool, Jer. They’re my friend.”

The look that Jeremy gave you caused another pit to weigh down in your stomach, watching him look from Michael to you in fucking disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe that Michael made another friend, that Michael moved on after Jeremy abandoned him. But you only forced a smile, forced polite conversation, all while remembering why you exactly were so angry with Jeremy in the beginning.

Three months later, it’s early February. To be exact, it was February thirteenth, and you’d been sitting in this little Mexican restaurant downtown with Michael on an actual, proper date (Michael’s words, not yours) for what should have been Valentines Day, if it weren’t for the fact that you and Michael had been keeping your relationship under wraps from pretty much everyone. When Michael asked you if you wanted to go out on the thirteenth, you’d been initially confused - before he said that he and Jeremy had the tradition of getting together for Valentines Day and making fun of those really shitty rom-coms while gorging out on chocolates. You understood. Another secret totally platonic not-date between you and Michael, just as complete pals who sometimes make out in the back of Michael’s car, y’know, as pals.

The two of you had been eating chips and salsa that’d been replaced in the middle of the two of you enjoying your entrees, waiting for the check and just sort of idly chatting. Part of you felt bad for all the times that Michael basically lied to Jeremy in order to get out of either playing video games or smoking weed or doing normal best friend stuff like they probably should have been doing.

“Sorry I couldn’t treat you to a better Valentines Day,” he blurted out, halfway through the meal.

“Babe.” You started, and you smiled at how damn smiley he got whenever you called him ‘babe,’ and continued on, “I get it. Just tell me how tomorrow goes, okay?”

He nodded, still slightly starry-eyed at the pet name. About a month before, you’d reached that level of comfort with Michael that you ended up calling him “babe” without saying anything beforehand, and the starry-eyed look he had then had made you decide that, when given the chance, you’d never call him anything else. And there he sat, across from you with a chip in hand, starry-eyed and smiling like the big dork that he was, when you finally nudged his leg with your foot.

“Stooop,” you whined, “you’re being too cute.”

He laughed. You fucking loved his laugh. Almost as much as you loved stealing and wearing his jacket, like you’d managed to do when the two of you left - leaving poor Mello Yello in the cold. When you asked if he wanted it back, he sort of shrugged and said that you looked cuter in it anyway - besides, it was warmer than your coat, he’s a toasty boy all the time, he’ll be fine. He liked seeing you in his clothes, after all.

The two of you approached his car, fingers intertwined and conversation slowly dying down. You barely had a second to step forward before your back met his car, Michael’s lips pressed firmly against your own while his hands found their way to your hips. You slipped a hand into his hair, pulling him closer as smiling against his lips as he pressed himself against you. The moment he pulled away, you whined softly.

“Michael,” you said, dragging his name out, “what if someone sees?”

He only chuckled and pressed another kiss to your lips, soft and gentle, before pulling away and just gazing into your eyes for a minute, smiling like the big, dumb, dork that he is. He turned away from you, about to walk around his car and drive you home when he stopped.

And that’s when you saw Christine Canigula standing a few feet away, awkwardly staring in disbelief at the two of you. A thousand words came to mind, almost all the same, before you stepped away, face burning as you realized you didn’t know how long Christine had been standing there.

And almost immediately, she set out to apologize. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry-” she said, “I just - I thought I saw you two when I was inside - and I didn’t mean to stare but I wasn’t sure if it was you two and the curiosity was going to kill me if I didn’t know for sure, but-” She paused, catching her breath, “I didn’t want to like... bring it up at school, since you two haven’t said anything to anyone and I figured “oh, well, maybe they just aren’t telling anyone” so-”

You and Michael exchanged glances to one another, before you finally spoke up. “Hey, Christine - it’s fine. We, uh - we weren’t gonna tell anyone, but-”

“I can keep a secret!” She beamed, “I mean, I already suspected something was going on since you two seemed reaaaally close.”

Well. Fuck. Time to tone shit down between you two.

“Hey - uh, can we talk?”

Jeremy fell into step beside you, slowing his pace alongside yours as you stopped to face him, other students dodging around the two of you as they made their way out of the school. To be honest - you nearly lied and said you had important shit to do, but something about how completely unnerved he looked, slouching ever so slightly (and then, out of nowhere, straightening up immediately, flinching as he did so). He motioned for you to follow, and thought uncertain, you did. The picnic tables outside of the auditorium were empty and quiet, and you threw your bag down onto one of them as you turned to face Jeremy - a bit glad to not have the heavy weight of textbooks fucking up your spine for the moment.

You took the initiative, leaning across the table and folding your arms across your chest. “So. What’s up?”

“Okay - uh, look... I know that you and Michael are... really close.”

Panic flooded into your senses immediately. Oh no. Oh no. Jeremy knew. Jeremy knew and he was definitely upset because you and Michael didn’t tell him. Did Christine tell him? Or did Jeremy figure it out - or did someone else see you and Michael and told Jeremy? Fuck - you weren’t sure, and you bit back the desire to grab your bag and book it and leave this conversation to be something between you and Jeremy and Michael, the way that it should be.

“But...” He started, before finally letting out a heavy sigh. “You weren’t trying to, like... steal Michael from me, right?”

Panic disappeared. Anger took it’s place. “Steal?” You stared at him, the word echoing through your mind - did he seriously think that you’d been plotting this?

“Yeah!” He said, “I mean - okay, not the best word, but... I don’t know how to say it. Y’know, he and I are best friends-”

“And you abandoned him, Jeremy.” You didn’t hold back. “Did you just - do you ignore that?”

He shook his head quickly, - “no! I mean, that was shitty, but I just - I know that-”

You curled your fingers into your palm, trying to find some way to stabilize yourself. “I don’t think you do.” You took a deep breath, anger building, “look - fuck, Jeremy, I don’t know all the details but I don’t give a shit that some stupid fucking pill told you to do that. You don’t get to be jealous that Michael has another friend.”

“What?!” He stared at you, “I’m not jealous-”

“Then why did you ask?” You breathed out, slow and hard, letting the fire die down as your fingers uncurled. “Look. Jeremy. You seem nice,” you started, “awkward, dorky, but nice and I know you mean a lot to Michael. But... I think you two need to talk. Actually talk - not the shit you did last time.”

“Wait... did he tell you about that?”

You slipped your arms through the straps of your bag, giving him a single nod. “Michael and I talk a lot, Jeremy. We’re friends. Friends talk. I know it’s not... twelve years worth of friendship, but... it’s still something.” You shifted the bag onto your back, already biting back a scowl at the returned weight. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, hey, uh, [y/n]-”

“Sorry I yelled at you.”

Jeremy caught you by the wrist. “Did... he tell you about the play?” He asked, and when you shook his head. “You... I don’t want to like... start anything but-” He shut his eyes, breathing, “I just- I think about it a lot and he just- he wouldn’t give me the Mountain Dew Red.”

Your arm dropped back down to your side as his cold fingers left your wrist. “Wait - Jeremy-”

“I just - I wanted to tell you that? Just so, uh... maybe you can - I dunno - say something to him? Look, I know I did a lot of shitty things,” he said, “but... I think that was shitty too.”

“It was.” You nodded, “I’ll talk to him about it.” You pressed your lips together, shifting your bag once again, “I’ll see you later, Jeremy.”

For the rest of that day, you didn’t really talk to anyone. You locked yourself in your room under the excuse you had a lot of work, told Michael you’d be busy but you’d try to text him later, and curled up in bed and replayed that conversation over and over. Every other option that you had - all stemming from a single refusal that you stole Michael, because you didn’t - came to mind. Being kinder to Jeremy, getting angrier, throwing bitter sarcasm: all the ways you saw that conversation turning started flooding into your mind, scenarios of maybe even befriending Jeremy in the end floating in.

You had to wonder if you made the right choice in calling Jeremy out on his shit.

A few weekends later, you found yourself in Michael’s basement, curled up against his side with a controller in your hands as the two of you kept trying to playfully sabotage the other’s game. It started with your lingering touches, going from bumping against his hand to sliding along his thigh, to Michael making little comments that he knew would make you laugh or squirm or break away from the game long enough to slap at his arm playfully. You started fighting him in that, talk turning dirty at one point until Michael turned and kissed you forcefully enough to make you drop the controller, and the moment he was right at the finish line, he lost his as well. He shoved you against the couch, the cheers of him winner playing behind him as he pushed you, your arms finding their way around his neck right as he broke for air. He moved, pressing kisses down your jaw, your neck, biting at the exposed skin while pulling your hips hard against himself. He loved the groan you let out, his name coming out at the end while you tangled your fingers into his hair-

And then a door slammed shut.

Immediately, the two of you drew apart, leaning up to look over the back of the couch.

“Shit - sorry, you two were-” A sharp breath. “Your mom - uh, Maureen- said that you two would be down here playing video games and I just-” Michael was dating someone Michael was dating you Michael was dating you you were dating Michael-

“Shit, Jeremy-” Michael said, watching Jeremy lay a hand on the doorknob behind him.

“I should go-”

“No.” You called out, pushing Michael back a bit more, “Sorry Jeremy, we’re talking about this now.”

Slowly, he crossed the room and sat down in a nearby chair, fighting his instincts to just run and deal with this later. You composed yourself, adjusting your clothing, and you breathed. This was going to come sooner or later, you told yourself. He was going to find out.

“You... probably have questions.” You shrugged, leaning back, “shoot.”

“Okay, fuck, uh - how long?”

Michael pressed his lips together, thinking back over the past few months. “Well, uh... technically sort of since the play.” He paused, “but - not... officially.”

“About three or four months.” You watched Jeremy nod slowly. Okay - well, at least it wasn’t longer, right? You forced a smile.

After a pause of silence, he finally asked another question, “were... you gonna tell anyone?”

“It was my idea to not say anything.” You frowned, “like... with you in the hospital and everything going on - I didn’t... we didn’t want to like... make things harder.” And then you paused. “I didn’t need to make things worse between you two.”

He nodded. Sorta fair. “What... uh... started this?”

So the both of you told him that story. How you were friends back in late August after he took the stupid pill, how you hung out a ton and got to know each other, how Halloween went, how Michael had apparently been worried something would happen so he kissed you before he ran off to make his entrance backstage. Questions kept coming, answers being found before finally you decided you’d take your leave and let them work things out. Michael walked you to your car, leaving Jeremy in the basement, and you only gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He needed this time, right?

The last thing you saw before falling asleep was a ‘i love you so much’ text from Mello Yellow, the red heart emoji next to the name making you smile.

The following Monday, you and Michael announced your relationship to his (well, Jeremy’s) friend circle. The yes, the two of you are dating; yes, you’ve been dating for a while; yes, you two were gonna wait longer but Jeremy kind of caught you two making out; and no, someone knew, thank you Christine for keeping a secret (to which she smiled, and you were honestly grateful for her). Questions followed, support coming after, and the entire time you stood there, squeezing Michael’s hand while noticing how distant Jeremy looked. You couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible.

Michael asked if the two of you could chill at his house that Saturday, instead of going over to your place - and although a little perplexed, you were glad to agree, since your room needed to be cleaned and you weren’t quite up to the task. When you arrived, Michael told you he’d be downstairs in a minute - he’s gonna get those good, good snacks. When you made your way downstairs, you stopped in the doorway, seeing only Jeremy Heere sitting at one end of the couch. He turned, freezing for a moment before he saw you take the smallest step back.

“Hey,” he greeted, “I, uh... wanted to talk to you.”

You slowly came closer, seating yourself at the opposite end of the couch. “About?”

He nudged something back behind the side of the couch, turning to face you. “I haven’t really been a good friend to Michael lately.” He paused, “and, uh - I... noticed I’ve been kind of shitty to you. But... we talked last week and I apologized for everything and Michael apologized for refusing to help me-” He paused, “thank you for that-” before he returned back to whatever speech he had planned, “but... he seems... really, really happy with you. Like... both as a, uh, friend and a date.” He licked his lips, reaching down beside the couch, “so we talked about it and... Michael and I never really needed another one before since it was just the two of us but-” He picked up a box, plastic gleaming in the light, “I bought this for you, and... if you’re okay with it... maybe we can - I don’t know - make this a, uh... three player game?” He extended the box to you, a shiny new controller encased within the plastic.

You took the box from his hands, staring down at the black controller. You ran your thumb along the side of the box, stomach twisting as you fought back tears. “Jeremy...” You paused, looking up at him, eyes glossy, “I’ve been shitty to you this whole time-”

“I know. And... I deserved that-”

“No,” you interrupted him, “no - you didn’t. Not all of it,” you bit your bottom lip.

“You were just... angry for Michael, I guess?” He said, “he’s never really been the kind of person to get really pissed-”

“I know. But... I’m sorry. For most of that.”

He watched as your gaze fell back to the controller. “I know it’s not much but - hey, now we can play video games and I can beat you at them!”

A tear escaped your eye, and you wiped it away. Not here, not now. “Really, Heere?” You cracked a smile, “Michael always tells me how you suck at video games-”

“I don’t suck!” He said, voice cracking.

“We’ll just have to see about that, Jeremy.” You looked back down to the controller again, tears finally winning against you as they started running down your cheeks. You shut your eyes, wiping away with them with your sleeve, “shit - sorry-” You looked up, “I’m being kind of a baby, aren’t I?” When you were met with silence, you put the controller aside. “C’mere, asshole.”

He stared at you before he did, and you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his shirt for a moment. “Shit - are you okay?” Jeremy asked, tentatively moving his arms. You nodded. “Are you sure?” You nodded again.

“What really changed your mind about me?” You finally asked, still somewhat crying into Jeremy’s stupid shirt.

“Well - uh, I realized that... Michael really loves you. And when we talked, he said that I was his best friend, and that he “couldn’t replace me” so - I... guess I realized that I should, y’know... try to get along with you...?”

“Fuck, Jeremy,” Michael called out, “I said talk to them, not steal them from me.” He sort of laughed as you pulled away, before realizing you’d been crying, “wait - shit, are you two okay?”

“Yeah, dork,” you shot Michael a grin, “just had to ruin Jeremy’s shirt. Nothin’ big.” You shifted, sitting at the other end of the couch, sniffling as you ran a hand through your hair.

Michael threw himself in between the two of you, changing the subject to the controller and how he’d have to set that up before the three of you could play anything. And then Jeremy went ahead and ruined that, saying that you could play Mario Kart or something and steal the controller that Michael’s brother used to use, it should be around there somewhere apparently - which, while it sorta hit a little hard that you wouldn’t be able to use your gift, Michael was glad to not have to sync shit up quite yet and find a game for the three of you.

And then made Jeremy regret that decision, because every time it was Michael’s turn to choose the tracks, he immediately chose Rainbow Road in order to fuck you and Jeremy over. The moment Michael left for a bathroom break, Jeremy and you decided okay, fuck everything else, we’re sharing the next victory even if Jeremy was the one to win. You’d distract Michael, Jeremy would fuck him over and win for the both of you - and maybe Michael would stop being a dick to you two losers who just happened to suck at Mario Kart for a while.

So the two of you waited. About halfway through the last lap, you started sliding your hand from Michael’s knee to up his thigh. He paid no mind, focused on retaining first place until you honestly nearly fucking grabbed his crotch - which had been enough to make him fumble with his controller. The moment you abandoned your controller, turning and pressing a kiss against his neck, you watched him fumble again.

“Baaabe,” he whined, “c’mon - I’m in the lea-” And then he caught on, looking over to you long enough to say, “betrayal.”

You laughed a little, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Michael, baby, babe, honey, sugarplum, my dear sweet Mello Yello,” you brushed a curl from his face, “stop picking fucking Rainbow Road, Jeremy and I suck at video games.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry Jeremy. I know it’s easy for you, Mikey,” you said, lowering your voice a little, “but seven times in a row is a crime. It can’t just go unpunished.”

Michael finally looked at you, smirking a little. Oh, really? You nodded a little, and you notice Jeremy finally passing him in-game.

Mhm. You smirked.

Jeremy finally looked over after crossing the finish line. “Oh, god - please don’t start fucking.”

“You’re the one who wanted the distraction, Jeremiah.”

“I’m right here!”

“You certainly are, Heere.”

“I’m taking the controller back, please don’t fuck Michael.”

You pressed a soft kiss against Michael’s cheek, turning and reaching for your soda. “Alright. No promises for next time, though.”

Michael bumped his knee against yours, shooting you a smirk as you spotted Jeremy finally taking a sip of his soda. Ah yes. “It’s not like we’d kick you out, Jer.”

You heard him choke on his drink, coughing slightly. “MICHAEL-”

“You could watch,” you smirked a little, “we don’t mind. Right, Michael?”

“Not what I had in mind, babe.”

Jeremy’s face turned red. You kept up the act, “oh, Michael - I thought we were keeping that one a fantasy.”

“I hate both of you.”

“Love you too, Jeremy.”

#percy's writing corner #be more chill #bmc #bmc reader insert #be more chill reader insert #bmc x reader #be more chill x reader #be more chill imagine #bmc imagine #michael mell #michael mell x reader #michael mell imagine

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deadsy-doodle-blog · 6 years

Photo

PUNK ROCK RUINED MY LIFE

SECTION NINETEEN

The bell rang for class, Oasis sat looking for Grim. He was usually on time for biology since they shared it and sat next to each other. After about ten minutes Grim ambled in, red eyes and toting a drink and a brown paper bag. He reached into the fast food bag and handed a medium fry to their biology teacher who took it wordlessly and sat it aside at his desk. Grim slumped over to his desk and sat down, shoving the bag and his drink into his backpack. Oasis leaned to him and told him what page number they were on, smelling the reeking skunky stench of marijuana on him. He blinked his eyes hard and stared at her for a moment.

“...what?” he asked in a long pause. She rolled her eyes at him and dug his textbook out of his backpack for him. She flipped to the page they were on. Grim stifled his laughter as best he could.

“There is going to be a quiz at the end of class, so I suggest you take ten minutes to study.” The teacher said slowly returning to his desk and starting to eat the fries that Grim had brought him. Oasis returned to her reading, noticing Grim spinning a pen between his fingers, staring into space out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at him.

“Grim.” She whispered sternly. He looked over at her with the pen rested on his upper lip. It fell when he grinned at her, her face stern and unamused. “If you fail one more class you can’t graduate, numb nuts.” She said in a glare at him as he continued to play with his pen, balancing it on the bridge of his muzzle and attempting to spin it. He let out of huff of air and a laugh. She grabbed the pen from him and broke it in half, Grim smiled, stifling a burst of laughter, shaking his head. He finally turned his eyes to his text book.

After a few minutes, she noticed him seeming to be intent and dissolved in the reading. She watched his eyebrows scowl down, his eyes moving with the words.

“Oasis. This book is in English right?” he whispered. She looked up at him in confusion. “I’m so high I can’t read.” He added, looking closer at the sentences, trying to make out what they said. He looked at the pictures in the text book, trying to figure out what he was trying to read about. He blinked his red eyes a few times trying to focus. Their teacher’s voice announced for them to put their textbooks away. “Fuck.” Grim muttered under his breath. He slid his book off the desk into his hand and letting it hit the floor with a loud thud.

The young mare infront of him passed back a sheet of paper with quiz questions. He looked at Oasis.

“Can I have a new pen?” he asked. She dug into her bag and gave him a pink pen. He smiled at it then back at her.

“Grim. Eyes on your page. The quiz starts now. You have twenty minutes.” the teacher’s voice boomed over him. He turned his head back to his own page, staring at the words that kind of fuzzed out of his focus. He could see the word but just couldn’t comprehend what it said. He managed to scrawl his name at the top and the date. He sat for a while staring at the words on the page. Finally able to make out a few of his words and give some kind of answer.

After class, the quizzes were passed in. Oasis kept her hand on Grim’s shoulder as they walked out. Guiding him with frustration.

“How did you do?” she asked in the hall as they headed for the lunch room. He dug into his backpack and pushed the fast food bag to her. He opened his drink and took a chug.

“Oh shitty, so shitty.” He laughed. “I was finally able to figure out what I was doing around the end, but most of the time I was drawing, and I think one of my answers was ‘sexy cells’.” He said looking at her.

“You’re going to be in deep shit if you pull that again before class. You were a mess.” She said to him, she dug into the fast food bag and pulled out two burritos, handing him one and leaving their shared fry in the bag for the time being as they walked to the cafeteria.

“It’s fine. It was one quiz.” He said unwrapping his burrito.

“They make up 60% of our grade.” Oasis said as he reached into the bag for hot sauce. He ripped the packet open and squirted a little into his mouth.

“I’m failing math too, so I don’t really know why you’re telling me percentages.” He shrugged.

“More than half!” she exclaimed as they sat down at the table with her little brother. He waved to his older sister as he was taking sips from his drink.

“It’s fine.” Grim said rolling his eyes. “how’s it hanging, Shoal?” he asked the palomino. He shrugged his shoulders. “The next time we go out for lunch do you wanna come? So you’re not stuck with this shit?” Grim asked eyeing his tray. The cafeteria lunch was unappealing as usual. Shoal nodded his head.

“Do we just meet by your car?” he asked Oasis. She nodded her head. “Oh, can I ride home with you today too?” he asked. She looked at Grim for a moment.

“Me and Grimmy were going to hang out for a little while. He has some band practice after school. You could come with?” she asked. Shoal’s eyes fell for a minute.

“Come on, you need a life.” Grim said pushing on his skinny shoulders.

“I guess I can.” He said feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Awww, baby brother is going to hang out with us!” Oasis smiled at him.

After school let out Grim and Shoal waited for Oasis by her car. She finally showed up and unlocked the doors to let them in. Shoal sprawled out in the backseat, holding onto Grim’s guitar as the car moved through town. Oasis changed Grim’s music to the radio, playing a mainstream music station. Grim groaned and banged the back of his head into the headrest. He started growling the lyrics over the music, grunting them out gruffly and off pitch.

“Stop!” Oasis laughed, pushing him in the seat as he mocked her music. “Grim!” she laughed again, turning her music up over him.

“ Keep spending most our lives livin' in a gangsta's paradise!! ” he screeched, Shoal covered his ears in the back. Grim turned the radio off and laughed at their expressions. “I only know that shitty song because you listen to it.” Grim laughed as Oasis held in her giggles as they drove to the venue the band was going to be practicing at tonight. Grim opened the door of the bug once it was parked and got out, he pushed the seat forward and took his guitar from Shoal before standing aside to let him out of the car. Oasis and her little brother followed Grim into the sticker and poster plastered building. Morty held the door open for them as he was on his way out to bring in more band supplies from his van.

Grim plugged his guitar into the amp waiting for him on the small stage platform. He started talking into the mic to the soundcheck guy who owned the venue.

“Copper, how are you?” Grim asked into the mic as he tuned and strummed his guitar a few times. He listened for Copper’s reply, yelled over the sound check. Copper ran up to the stage platform and shook Grim’s hand.

“Let’s make sure you guys are good and ready for Saturday night.” He said up to Grim as he placed his guitar back down. He hopped off the stage.

“This is my girlfriend and her little brother.” Grim said introducing Copper to Oasis and Shoal.

“Little brother?” he laughed, seeing how much taller Shoal was than Grim. Oasis laughed, looking up at her brother who stood nearly 6’3” by now. “Is your whole band here yet?” Copper asked.

“We’re still waiting for Orion.” Grim said looking at the clock on the wall. “he should be off work and on his way.” He said looking to him.

“He plays a back up guitar, right?” Copper said looking at the stage as Crue tuned her bass. Grim nodded his head. “Lets have you plug in and play a little bit, we can adjust more when Orion gets here with his guitar.” Copper said directing Grim back to the stage. Grim hopped up and grabbed his teal guitar from its stand. He plugged in to the other amp and started to play a little bit, looking to Copper as he headed over to his sound booth. Grim listened to the levels and told Copper where to adjust. Copper sat making notes of his adjustments to help himself be more prepared for the coming weekend show.

Orion stepped through the door a few minutes later and unplugged Grim from his amp. He shoved the chord into his own guitar and started to play a little.

“Sorry, I’m a little drunk, needed to bum a ride from my roommate.” He said to Grim as they both listened to the guitar’s sound.

“It’s fine, don’t be late on Saturday though.” He said taking his guitar back to the front of the stage. Oasis and Shoal watched the band do a run down of their songs. Oasis handed Grim a bottle of water as their run down closed up and their soundcheck guy came up to them to give them a few notes on how they sounded. He gulped the water, soothing his rasping voice and then screwing the lid back on. He shoved the notes into his pocket and walked out to the door with Copper, starting to light a cigarette and talking about percentage cuts and rates with him as usual. Oasis followed slowly and SHoal timidly tagged along, feeling uncomfortable.

When Oasis met Grim outside he distractedly handed his cigarette to her and she puffed on it a little bit. Her little brother’s neck and brows twisted with surprise as she puffed out smoke and handed the cigarette back to Grim. She turned her head to him, she whispered “If you tell mom or dad I will kill you.” quietly.

As Copper and Grim finished their conversation and cigarettes Orion came out, stumbling a little. He looked at Oasis with a grin. “How are you? Who is this?” he asked looking to her brother.

“Shoal. He’s a dork.” Oasis giggled, hugging Orion in a friendly embrace. Orion shook Shoal’s hand with a toothy grin. Shoal’s ears pinned to the sides as Crue came out of the venue with a loud band of the door. Grim turned his head to her as she started singing one of their songs.

After about an hour more of practicing Grim helped the band pack up their equipment. Oasis handed Grim some of the lighter things as he packed them into the van as her little brother toted pieces of the drunk kit.

“Oh, hey, Shoal…” Grim said as the Palomino turned away to stand off to the side. Grim sat on the floor of the van, looking up to his blue eyes behind his glasses. “I have a job for you.” He said reaching into his pocket and rifling around for a minute. He pulled out lighters, wads of crinkled money and papers. He thumbed through his torn notebook papers, chewing his lip. “Dammit.” He sighed before checking his other pocket.

“If you flip me off like last time it won’t be as funny because this is taking too long.” Shoal said growing impatient, waiting for what was likely to be a prank and a waste of his time. Grim’s fingers searched the breast pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a small bag of weed. He tossed it at Shoal and he fumbled to volley it back, wanting nothing to do with it. Grim beamed a jagged smile up at him as he pulled out more papers and a pen. He distractedly grabbed the pen and pulled it apart with his thumb and forefinger in one hand, the top fell off and a tightly rolled joint fell from the inner walls of the pen. He put the joint in his lips and grabbed a lighter as he tossed some folded papers aside, looking for the one he wanted. He took a slow drag, finally picking up a lined sheet of paper that was tattered and burned on one edge.

“I’m no artist.” He said in a stifled breath as he held the joint in his lip, trying to talk. He unfolded the paper and handed it to Oasis’s little brother. “But, we need a band logo, we want to start making stickers and bullshit like that, maybe making a little dicky album at some point. Those are just kind of some of our ideas.” He watched Shoal’s blue eyes search the drawings.

“I could rework some of these and see what I can do.” He said softly.

“I can pay you however.” Grim said pinching the joint in his fingers. “weed, acid, booze, sex, cash…” Shoal’s eyes drifted up with a scowl, meeting Grim’s smile. “$75?” Grim asked with a wince.

Shoal bit his lip, looking a little unsure. Oasis looked at Grim, standing behind Shoal, she gestured her thumb up a little.

“$100, and one of these?” Grim said bouncing his brows, giving Shoal a joint. He passed it back to him, having no interest.

“$100 is fine.” Shoal said meekly, looking into Grim’s reddening eyes, glossy as he puffed out a little more smoke. Grim nodded his head.

“Suit yourself.” He said taking his lit joint from his lip and handing it to Shoal. “Hang on to that will ya…” he said with a snicker, getting kicks out of his discomfort. Grim turned to his pile of pocket contents and plucked ten and twenty dollar bills, unfolding and straightening them out. “Orion!” Grim shouted, looking down at his wad of cash. He reached for his joint, plucking it from the minor’s fingers and returning it to his lip as the drunken backup guitarist ambled over, chains and straps clinking together as he stepped closer. “Do you have $30?” he asked taking a drag. He watched as Orion searched his wallet and pockets. He flopped a twenty onto Grim’s pile and some loose change, which scattered into Morty’s van. Grim watched as it rolled to the backseat and the sounds of it clinking against the bars, sounding like a game of pinball. Grim belted out laughter and lumped the money together. “I owe you $10.” He said placing the stack in Shoal’s hands. “Unless you’re sure you don’t want a...” Grim said before making a stroking gesture with a whistle and his brows raised, letting a smile crinkle across his face as Oasis shook her head in a chuckle at her little brother’s reaction.

#anthro horse #anthro #furry #horse furry #fursona #punk anthro #punk horse

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writingwithadinosaur · 7 years

Text

“Fireproof” - Part 6

( Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 )

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,280

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Injuries, Feels Galore

Summary: After a genetic mutation showed itself about 5 years ago, you became a Kingsman and worked alongside some of the best agents: Your father, Merlin, Roxy, and Eggsy. When you are assigned a mission with Eggsy, things flare up.

Author’s Note: This part was okay to write until halfway through, then it was a struggle for me. But I finally finished it and then had @the-witching-hours12-3 work her beta-reading magic and helped me figure out how to make this part good. <3

There will be a 2 part epilogue after this (because I can) and I am excited for those!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

The plane landed safely back at headquarters. You were relieved to be home, but using your mutation as much as you had and being as beaten as you were, you had little in the way of energy. Eggsy was under your right arm, letting you use him as a crutch. Merlin and Roxy were waiting on the ground to welcome you home and congratulate you on the mission.

There were only six steps from the plane to the ground. You made it down the first one but then had to stop; you felt another wave of lightheadedness start to wash over you. Eggsy felt you stop and switched from feeling grateful to be back, to being protective and ready to help. As soon as you began to reach for his arm, Eggsy was ready to catch you.

“Eggsy, I don’t think I can…” was all that you were able to get out before your legs gave out and the tunnel vision took over. Merlin and Roxy’s smiles fell as they saw you reach for Eggsy and collapse.

“Shit! Alright, I got you, luv.” Eggsy easily caught you and carried you bridal style rushed to the infirmary with Merlin and Roxy not far behind.

~~~~~~~~

After you were taken back by a professional, Eggsy and Merlin discussed what happened during the mission. Merlin then sent Eggsy to go get cleaned up and have something to eat. While Eggsy took care of himself, Merlin stayed with you. The doctors moved you into a private room after they cleared you and Merlin sat by your bed.

It was about an hour later when Eggsy knocked on the door. Merlin got up from his chair near your bed and opened the door. Eggsy walked in and saw you hooked up to an IV, with a cannula in your nose, and a few monitors surrounding your bed. He took a deep breath in and shakily let it out, fearing that the doctors had found something worse or that using your powers to the extent that you had may have left internal damage. Merlin quietly shut the door and then put a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder.

“She’s going to be fine. She’s asleep; she’ll have to take it easy for a week or so. The IVs are to make sure she is hydrated and won’t accidentally set anything on fire. The cannula is to help her oxygen intake. Her mutation uses up a lot of her oxygen and then slowly eases up after she stops actively using it and then she can function normally; that’s why she fainted. But she’ll recover.” Merlin watched as Eggsy let out a sigh of relief. He then saw that Eggsy had a bag in his hand. From what he could tell, there were a few flowers, your favorite movie, and some snacks in the bag. Merlin smiled and patted Eggsy’s shoulder before moving in front of him.

“Thank you for being there for her. I know this isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.”

“No it will not. I don’t plan on leavin’ her anytime soon.”

“I can tell how much you mean to each other. That being said I don’t think I need to warn you what will happen if you decide to mess with my daughter. Just keep in mind that while I know she can fry you like chips, I can also take you out and make sure your body is never found. Understood?” Eggsy eyes went wide as he absorbed Merlin’s threat, then he nodded in response.

“Good. She should wake up soon. Good job on the mission. Have a good night.” Merlin said as he exited the room.

Eggsy let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and started to quietly set up the things he brought. He wasn’t able to get much set up except the flowers, since everything else was a bit noisy, so he elected to just sit next to you and try to finally take a breather until you woke up.

He softly took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles then he began to rub small, smooth circles across the back of your hand using his thumb. Even though his touch was featherlight, it was enough to cause you to stir. You slowly opened your eyes and see his heart stopping green ones. Giving his hand a light squeeze, you knew he was really there and that you were safe. Smiling, you spoke.

“So when do you wanna have that talk and that dinner date, bruv?” Eggsy broke out into a smile and breathed out a chuckle.

“You’re layin’ in a hospital bed and that’s what comes to your mind?” You let out a strained laugh, your entire torso in pain but you tried to push through it. Eggsy kissed your hand, and you could feel him smiling against your skin.

“What’s in the bag?” You looked next to him and saw one of your canvas bags full of stuff. Eggsy looked down and then brought it into his lap. Smiling, he pulled out more things than you thought could possibly have fit in there together. Your laptop, charger, favorite movies, crisps, water, and even your comfy clothes and favorite blanket.

“Figured you’d want to be as comfy as you could be if you are stuck here for a couple days.”

“Aw, Eggsy!” You pulled on his hand a bit, signaling him to lean over. Somehow, you were able to maneuver around the IV chord and cannula and wrap your good arm around his neck in an embrace. “Thank you.”

“Of course, luv!”

It was a quick hug because you felt the soreness and pain hitting you. When you did pull away, Eggsy was quick to plant a kiss on your lips before sitting back down in his seat. He began to boot up your laptop so the two of you could watch a movie and relax.

“Alright, which movie will it be then?” He held out two of your top movies and waited for you to choose before continuing to set up. You watched him for a moment, really thinking about how thankful you were to have him in your life and how much your next topic of conversation would impact the two of you.

“So, I was talking with my dad earlier…” You trailed off, trying to really figure out how you wanted to phrase the next part.

“Yeah? What about?”

Eggsy was still getting everything from his bag of goodies out and ready, not really looking at you. He didn’t catch the small anxious look you had on your face until you reached for his hand. He instantly stopped what he was doing and firmly held your hand in his.

If its anythin’ about me treatin’ you right, I had that conversation with him too and you don’t have to worry about anythin’. I promise I--” You couldn’t help but laugh at his initial reaction.

“No! No, Eggsy! It’s not that.” You watched him let out a sigh of relief before getting that confused puppy dog look on his face.

“What do you think about me giving Charles a call?”

“Charles who?”

You pointed to a folder that was on the bedside table. Eggsy looked at you warily before reaching over and lifting the folder. As soon as he picked it up, he realized what this folder was for. Opening it up, he remembered looking through it after your nightmare the other night and read the cover letter:

Charles Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.

1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center

Westchester County, New York

Tags - @the-witching-hours12-3 @theeactress @undersoilxnddirt @juggernaut-jones @eggsyunwinftw @boundtomyfate @grippleback-galaxy @sarahp879 @breakfastatswarovski @fandomsandwriting @thomasstanleyhoelland @thebookisbtr @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof

#kingsman fandom #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman fic #kingsman imagine #eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfiction #DreaREX #dreasaurusrex #writingwithadinosaur #WritingWithADino #Fireproof

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kulaykape · 4 years

Text

Chap. 2 of CONTRACT KILLER: OC x Natasha Romanoff

Chap. 2 of this mess. Ofc I didn’t proof read.

Word Count: 2852

Summary: One week after Jean returns home from assassinating James Wagner. Nothing particularly important happens in this chapter, only serving to slowly build the dynamic of her household.

---Holiday Household---

INDIGO STRIKES AGAIN. JAMES WAGNER ASSASSINATED.

"Quite the headline, anak," Grandma Harper said as she watched the reporter on the national news detail the events.

"Eh," I called from the kitchen, more concerned with how the hell I was supposed to tell if the spam was cooked well enough or not, "Nothing special."

"If it was nothing special, you wouldn't have come back with so many bruises," Grandma replied as she walked into the kitchen and tapped the stitches on my brow. "Black Widow?"

I nodded and pursed my lips. "Black Widow." Somehow, the SHIELD Agent had become a household name in a household of people who worked against her.

Grandma clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "When you're not using deadly force, you're far too less efficient. You need to figure that out," she said.

I scoffed. "I was about to use deadly force," I replied.

"Why?"

"She almost had me," I said as I checked the underside of one of the spam slices. "Is that cooked, mama?" I asked dumbly, doing a double take between grandma and the food.

Grandma Harper rolled her eyes. "World's Greatest Mercenary can't tell when spam is cooked," she echoed.

"World's Greatest Mercenary is the reason you're living large, grandma," I said with a grin. Grandma Harper threw her head back and laughed. She'd been a horse breeder (among other things) back in her day. It might've been a lucrative business in 1910, but I don't know how well she'd fare now.

Of course, she’d had other means of attracting income. Not too unlike my own.

"It's only a matter of time before they send their big guns after you, Jean."

"Yeahhh…" I drawled, "Nothing that I can't handle. I'm surprised they haven't gotten the message by now, though. I don't kill good people."

Wagner had been a rapist. My target preceding Wagner was a genocidal terrorist. And the man before that had been one of my worst targets yet. A popular singer and actor. I'd found child pornography in his living room, and a ten year-old boy in his bed.

And somehow, the deaths of all those monsters had turned me into public enemy number one.

Grandma Harper sighed as she took a seat at the dinner table. She looked more tired than usual, her eyes looking 123 years old even if the rest of her only looked about forty.

"My day was simpler. The law was more lenient, more understanding," she said, "But at the same time, ruthless. I think you would've done better in my time, anak."

I laughed mirthlessly as I stacked the spam up on a plate next to the eggs. Grandma Harper was actually my great grandma, a woman who was born and thrived as an outlaw near the turn of the century. I hadn't seen her in a real fight during my insignificant life span, but the look in her eye hadn't seemed to dull.

"Kids! AJ! Isiah! Food's ready!" I called, picking up the pan and hitting a metal spoon against its underside. Grandma Harper sent me a sour look, and I put it down.

Like the stampede from Lion King, AJ and Isiah’s three kids came crashing into the kitchen. They came in with so much heat that they would've slid to their doom and hit their heads on the corner of the table if Grandma didn't stop them.

"Careful, you three," she said sternly.

Reggie, the oldest at seven years, apologized sheepishly. "Sorry, grandma," he said, and with a kiss on her cheek was back in her good graces. His little siblings followed his lead to sit at the table, where I had to help four year-old Jenny sit down properly, and quickly stopped five year-old Katie from stabbing herself with a butter knife.

AJ and Ian streamed in after them, talking quietly and critically.

"You guys alright?" I asked, turning one of the table seats backwards and settling into it.

AJ looked at me with a tired smile, not even bothering to hide her conflictions. "Yeah. It’s just been a rough week, what with all that,” she replied, gesturing to the tv screen. Katie extended her stubby hands towards the tv remote. I pointed towards the window to distract her, and then hid the remote.

“Auntie J, that’s you!” Reggie exclaimed, pointing at the screen as the name of my dual identity and my masked figure crossed over the screen.

I shot Reggie a crooked smile. “Dang right it is.”

“Language,” Grandma shook a fork at me.

“I said dang!”

“Language.”

I conceded, raising my hands in defeat and then looked at the couple still standing in the doorway. “Would you two sit down?” I said with slight exasperation, “I didn’t cook for you to just look at the food.”

“I wouldn’t call frying spam cooking, J,” Isiah said as he took a seat and started piling up his plate. AJ rolled her eyes as she followed suit. To her, this little bickering feud between Isiah and me was about ten years too old.

“But you’re eating it, aren’t you, you walnut?” I retorted. Isiah shot me the “touche” nod, and went about chowing down.

“You just cashed in a million dollar check, and we’re eating spam,” AJ said with a grin.

“Broke people act rich, rich people act broke,” I said waving my own fork at her, “I swear, you two are just gonna eat the grease off the pan next time.” A ripple of laughter sounded through the table. Jenny and Katie laughed along for the hell of it.

“A million dollars, auntie?” Reggie said wistfully, looking at me with his mouth wide open and showing off his munched up spam and rice. Isiah shook his head, and pushed up the boy’s chin with the end of his fork.

“Yeah,” I replied. Grandma Harper sent me a look, and I nodded. “Uh... You know how much doctors make, though?”

“How much?” Reggie asked.

Way less, I thought. “Three million,” I said. AJ hit her head against the table as she watched me resort to lying to cover my ass. Isiah looked at me, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with his food, and just stared at me blankly. Grandma Harper sighed, and got up to find her pills.

Reggie shrugged. “But your job’s cooler. And you’re still making, like, a million dollars!” He exclaimed.

I sputtered for a moment, and would’ve been done for because of it if Reggie was a little older. “Yeah, but don’t you wanna save lives like a doctor?”

“You save lives,” he fired back.

“Eh…” I cringed a bit at that, “I don’t exactly-”

“And you get to have guns!”

“Hold on-”

“And you didn’t have to go to college.”

“Kid-”

“But daddy told me you ‘officially started when you were twelve’. Is that true?”

I kicked Reggie’s mother in the shins, jolting her from her stupor as her son's questions evolved horribly. Help, I mouthed.

AJ cleared her throat, and put her best mom’s voice on. “Junior, finish your food, okay?” She said, “Then you and dad can play Street Fighter until nine.”

Reggie gawked, forgetting all about his blossoming ambitions to be a mercenary. “Until nine?”

“Finish your food first.” “Yes ma’am.” I don’t know why he emphasized “ma’am” like that, but I thought it was funny as hell and guffawed loudly, while simultaneously slumping over at dodging a (metaphorical) bullet.

---

“I can’t believe you told the kid about how I first killed somebody,” I growled in a hushed tone at Isiah, just barely kept from ripping his head off by the grace of god and AJ’s occasional tentative hand on my shoulder.

“It flew right over his head, don’t worry,” Isiah said flippantly, more focused on trying to get Ken to do a Hadouken without it being on accident.

“That’s not the point, you perpetual loser,” I said quietly. The kids were still gathered around on the carpet, which I laid haphazardly on as I stared up at Isiah with vengeance in my eyes. I would save the more colorful insults for when they all went to bed.

“Dad, stop cheating!” Reggie yelled as Isiah moved to casually stand in front of Reggie and obscure his view of the screen as they played against each other.

“Your children will grow up to hate you, Isiah Bradley,” I called from the carpet. Isiah raised his foot up, threatening to step on me. I scoffed. “I wish you would, Isiah. I wish you would.”

“So,” AJ said, sitting down next to me on the carpet as she attempted to avert my murderous gaze from her husband, “You went toe-to-toe with Agent Romanoff again?” I heard Grandma let out a faraway snort from the kitchen.

I sat up and subconsciously put a hand to the stitches on my brow. “Yeah. It dragged on a little longer than I originally planned,” I said. Then again, it was hard to plan ahead when faced with the Black Widow.

“You need to get control over all your powers,” AJ advised, and I nodded, “You’d be Iron Man-level with them.” I scoffed. “What, am I not Iron Man-level without all the pyromania?” I asked. Sure, Black Widow might’ve nearly executed me by way of thigh, but I’d still won.

“Don’t know. I mean, are you completely confident you can take a guy like that down when it comes to it?” She replied, “Because it will. Once SHIELD gets tired of this game of cat and mouse.”

And I was honestly surprised they hadn’t played one of their enigmatic little trump cards yet, seeing as we were three years into this little “game”. They could call upon Iron Man, War Machine, Black Widow, and even throw in Hawkeye, just for shits, if they wanted to. And I’d be a long since resolved problem.

I gazed down at my own hands. They were slender and heavily scarred, but I’d covered up the flaws with tattoos. And within them was a power kept locked away in slumber, a power that, to be blunt, would turn me from a pesky mercenary to a worldwide threat. But it’d been sleeping in my family’s blood since Grandma Harper, so it was something even she couldn’t explain to me.

“I mean, you remember that time you activated your powers on accident though, right?” AJ asked, recalling that one spar almost five years ago.

Isiah had said something that pissed me off- big surprise there- during a spar, and I’d gone in for perhaps the angriest and most uncoordinated punch of my life. Flames had been born from my knuckles, licking at the back of my hand and then shooting forward at Isiah like something out of Avatar. The flames looked as if they were truly alive, and as angry as me at Isiah as they tried to consume him. But they died the moment I panicked at their birth, fearing what permanent damage they’d do to Isiah. And, unfortunately, he lived on.

“I doubt it’ll ever happen again,” I said. Since then, I hadn’t felt that dangerous heat rising in my palms. And I’d never tell any of my friends or even Grandma Harper, but it was the greatest feeling in the world. That power was beautiful. So beautiful, so enticing, in fact, that I couldn’t help but fear it. Just a little.

Isiah chuckled. “Can’t wait to watch your kids figure it out, then,” he quipped, as Ryu- controlled by Reggie- Ultra Hadkouken’d his Ken into oblivion.

“I thought we already went over this,” I replied with a chuckle, “I’m not popping any babies out.”

“Good. Imagine the power of those little devils,” he said with a snicker.

AJ gave him a warning look. “Isiah.”

“Honey, you don’t understand,” Isiah insisted, shaking his head, “The power that was radiating off of this kid for that split second?” He shivered dramatically, “If I’m being honest, it might be that kind of thing that’s better left never discovered.”

“Even though I would’ve done us all a huge favor if I’d just made you a crispy chicken nugget,” I muttered under my breath. Isiah rolled his eyes, while AJ shook her head with a smile.

“...”

“...Back to the popping babies thing, though,” AJ said.

“Oh, heck no.” I started to stand up.

“You’re young! A young bachelor! With money!” AJ made sure to emphasize the money factor heavily, making an emphatic ‘make it rain’ gesture.

“No,” I said, marching up the stairs to the guest room that I stayed in whenever I was here, while Isiah yelled something about me having to play against him. To my chagrin, AJ followed me. “Go to your family, heathen,” I spat over my shoulder.

“But you are family, kid,” she replied, throwing an arm over my shoulder as she rapidly switched into her Isiah-like persona, which only came out when we started to talk about relationships. Her reply would’ve warmed my heart if the conversation topic itself wasn’t revolting.

“No.” I rushed into the guest room and tried to close it behind me before AJ could slip in, but slip in she did.

“But yes,” she replied as she sat down at my desk, “C’mon Jean, you’re twenty-two! At least try and have a little fun more often.” I cringed, as I knew exactly what AJ’s idea of ‘fun’ was. Clubbing, house parties, and (before Isiah) plenty of unadulterated sex. She’d settled down from all of that since marrying that walnut, but she’d take some time to herself every now and then, and her ventures usually involved dragging me with her.

“I have plenty of fun,” I replied sourly as I collapsed on my bed, ruining the perfect lines of Grandma Harper’s work to keep it tidy.

“You haven’t changed one bit since you were a kid, you know that?” She said, “You still find pianos and books more attractive than actual people.”

“I find people attractive, Aliyah Jackman,” I retorted, sitting up, “I just don’t act on it. Leave me alone.”

There was a beat of silence. And I knew it was coming.

“...I know for a fact that you were hitting on Black Widow while you guys fought.” I tried to keep a smirk down. “So what if I was?”

AJ let out a howl of laughter. “Be careful with that one, Jean Holiday.”

“Nothing about our lives involves the word ‘careful’,” I replied.

“True. But I gotta tell you, if I liked women, I’d like Black Widow too,” she quipped.

“...You know, I can’t help but be a little jealous of her.”

“How so?”

I let out a sigh, rubbing my forehead. I was too young to constantly be feeling this old. “Remember those corrupted SHIELD files you and Isiah found?” I asked.

“Yeah… You found some dirt on her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t much better than us at one point. If not worse,” I replied, “How come she gets a second chance? And we continue to be prey?”

“It’s not like any of us are seeking redemption.” And I couldn’t disagree with that.

I let out a sigh. “From what that file said, it seemed like Clint Barton took a chance on her. Likely that she wasn’t looking for redemption either. It just fell in her lap.”

“Look, you’ve got no reason to be jealous of her, kid,” AJ said. I looked up at her, furrowing my brow curiously. “It’s not like you don’t have your own chance. If you want to leave this behind, nobody’s gonna stop you.”

That weight settled back in my stomach. That weight that should’ve been carried by someone much older, much sadder. “It’s not that simple,” I muttered.

AJ scoffed, and I heard the chair creak as she stood up. “Look, you don’t need me to tell you that we’re not exactly good people. The only one making it ‘not that simple’ is you, Jean,” she said, “You have a choice. Don’t act like you don’t.” And with that, she left. I flopped down on my bed.

It was an odd relationship I had with AJ, Isiah, and Grandma Harper. They willingly conditioned me to take on this life, and yet it seemed like they always wanted me to follow the other path at the crossroad.

But Grandma Harper had been an outlaw, an idea I’d never romanticized. I knew she did nasty things, probably killed good people (although I’d never ask). Then after her, Grandpa Josiah had gone on an angry tirade for reasons I still didn’t know, rebelling against the law until it killed him. And after him, my mom… Emery Holiday. I think she might’ve tried to be good. She joined the military, flew in the name of the US. But somewhere along the way, I guess the curse of our family’s selfishness and corruption caught up to her. Again, I didn’t really know, too cowardly to ask.

If that was all they ever were, how could I be any different? What right did I have to be any different?

And if we put that all aside, what hope did I have to be any different?

#natasha romanoff x oc #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel #fanfic #marvel x oc

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thefanfichotspot · 7 years

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one

I was ecstatic to be a father. Not an ounce of me regretted anything that happened, and not a fiber in my body was nervous. I chose to embrace fatherhood with my all the second Cameron told me she was pregnant. While the conception of our daughter isn’t ideal, it didn’t matter to either of us. What mattered was we were expecting a beautiful little girl. Her room at my house was almost done and likewise for her mom’s house. She had two parents that loved her more than anything in this world and would do anything to keep her safe. She and I agreed that we wouldn’t become a statistic - having a child out of wedlock with parents that only argued about child support and things of that nature. Cam and I already agreed to the terms of how we would split custody and I was more than happy to give her two grand a month - and more if she needed it.

The crackling of the hot oil as it cooked the chicken dragged me from my thoughts, and I reached over to turn the dial down to lower the heat. I tossed a still-hot French fry in my mouth as I waited and dusted the flour off my hands. I hadn’t even swallowed yet, but the doorbell pulled me away from my current task at hand. I crossed the foyer and swung the door open, my grin mirroring the woman’s on the other side. “Baby moms!”

She couldn’t help but cut her eyes at me playfully, a small giggle eliciting from her lips as she kicked her shoes off and discarded them by the door. “That name is going to be the death of me, Trey. Am I early?”

I shrugged, and she followed me into the kitchen. I watched her slide into a chair at the kitchen table, her palm on her protruding belly protectively. “Lil bit, but it’s cool. The first batch is almost done anyway.” I dumped a handful of fries onto a plate and set it in front of her, sprinkling some seasoned salt on top.

“First batch of what? Trey, what are you feeding us?” Nevertheless, she helped herself.

“I told you I was gonna cook for you when you came over to talk, Cam,” I tittered, stealing a fry for myself. “But if you must know, it’s fried chicken and as you can see, French fries. I can make you something else if you want, I got some -”

“No no!” She stopped me with a laugh. “Trey this is fine, really. We’re hungry anyway. Isn’t that right, princess?” She tipped her chin downwards as she spoke to our unborn and I chuckled. “She said yes.”

“I heard her,” I teased. I got a pitcher of fresh lemonade from the fridge and poured her a glass with some ice cubes. “Big ass mouth like her dad.” When the chicken strips were nice and crispy, I removed them from the cooking oil to dry a little and to cool off, then I loaded up some plates for the both of us. “Careful, they’re still hot.”

She helped herself to some ketchup from the fridge and returned to her spot, squirting a puddle of it in the corner of her plate. “You know you never really told me where you learned to cook.”

“Shit, I thought I did,” I shrugged. “Learned from my mumma and grumma.”

She frowned, mouthing the words to herself. “Your who?”

I found myself laughing at her confusion. “My mom and grandma. That’s what I’ve always called them. Forrest and I both do.” It was true. I don’t remember how I got those names but they just stuck and when my brother grew up he wanted to do everything I did so of course he stole those names as well. Maybe it’s a southern thing, or maybe we’re just weird as hell. It was just me, my brother, and my mom in Richmond, Virginia. With the help of her mom, we grew into respectful young men and I was proud of the both of us. Forrest and I had different dads who weren’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter. We didn’t need them. “Anyway, I didn’t have a dad growing up, so I spent the majority of my time in the kitchen with my mom and grandma. Watching and learning.”

She nodded with her mouth full. “So you're still not in contact with your dad at all? Even now? You ever meet him?”

I shook my head as I swallowed. “He didn't care so I stopped waiting for my phone to ring. When I was younger, I always asked my mom if he was coming for my birthday or Christmas or something and she always said no. So I put two and two together and I stopped giving a fuck altogether.” I've only seen pictures of my dad when I worked up enough guts to look him up on Facebook. When I found what I was looking for, I deleted my account and never looked back. My mom doesn't even know I did it. Since Forrest and I have different dads, I briefly wondered if they left because of her - as if they were utterly repulsed by her or something. That thought didn't last long. They were ain't shit niggas and that's the end of that. “I ain't gonna do that to our kid.”

Cameron didn't have all those mood swings throughout her pregnancy. She wasn't over emotional all the time like people claim - if anything, she became overjoyed at the smallest things. Like now, she had tears in her eyes at my promise to her and our child. It gave me a good feeling. “That's sweet, Trey.” She finished off her fries and I unloaded another round of chicken to set aside in case she wanted more. “So I came over to talk to you about her, actually. We kinda discussed this but I wanted your opinion again.”

“Yeah, anything. What's up?”

She drummed her perfectly manicured nails against the hard surface and gnawed at her bottom lip. “I hope this isn't a weird question, but would you consider being there when she's born?”

I never even thought about that possibility. I felt weird since we weren't in a relationship. Yes I know I'm the biological father of the baby, but still. It felt...awkward. “Uh, in the delivery room? Like, as you're pushing? Hell, I never thought about it. I figured you would want your mom or someone else.”

Her lips twisted to the side as if she had something to hide, and the wheels were turning in her mind. “That's something else I wanted to talk to you about, Trey. I don't want to have her in a hospital.”

“You wanna have her in the back of a car or somethin’?”

She giggled with a shake of her head. “What? No, nothing like that. I want to have her at home.”

Oh...oh! “You can do that?” I've never heard of anybody giving birth at home - honestly I didn't know much about the concept to begin with so this was news to me. Intriguing, yes, but also...unnerving.

She nodded slowly, watching and waiting for my reaction. “With a midwife, yes. I can choose to do it in a tub of water too.”

Giving birth. In water. What a concept.

I rubbed the hairs on my chin as I thought. “You want to do it at your house and get blood everywhere? How is that gonna work, Cam?”

She was blushing in embarrassment - I must have sounded crazy. “I, uh, no...shoot, it's not messy like that. It's just more intimate and...never mind. I can do it in a hospital.”

“You're leaving it up to me to decide?” I questioned, chewing on my own lip. “Cam I can't make that decision for you. You're the one with the vagina so I support whatever you wanna do. It sounds interesting, not gonna lie. I'll read up on it so I don't go into it blindly, cool?”

She sipped on her beverage and dragged her eyes to me, her cheeks rosy with nervousness. A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips. “So that's a yes?”

The hopefulness in her pupils sparked a grin and I nodded. “That's a yes. I'm down for whatever you wanna do.”

She threw her arms around me as much as she could around her belly and I held her back, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, Trey! It'll be great, I promise!”

“Speaking of, lemme go get something before I forget.”

Nights were chilly, borderline freezing. I shoved my feet into a pair of timberlands, tossed on a snapback to conceal most of my face and flipped my hood over that as I slipped from the house and locked the door behind me. My breath created thin clouds of fog underneath the full moon, and I shivered at the thoughts of the make-believe monsters that roamed the night hours in search for their next victim.

After all, the freaks come out at night. Do they not?

Don't get it twisted; I'm not a mythical creature such as a vampire or werewolf but I can be seen as a predator that only comes out a night, but I wasn't hungry for flesh or blood. I was hungry for money and power. I craved it, fed on it. Power was in my blood, rushing through my veins.

The usual setting for our meet ups was surrounded by the familiar cars, but I knew better than to park with them; I parked a mile down the road. If shit went left, I didn't want the cops to have any evidence that I was there. Sure they could get my fingerprints, but I wasn't in the system because I didn't have a record - I made sure of that.

I tipped my chin downward with a nod as I slipped through the large metal door, brushing past the usual lookout. He returned my gesture with only a brief glance.

The rumble of voices welcomed me like any other night, only this time I could hear bits and pieces of what they were talking about and it didn't sound like it was good news. Usually we all discussed business and what wagers we were interested in regarding sports, but not tonight. The head of the establishment, Spyder, waved me over upon seeing me. “Trigga, I'm surprised you showed up tonight.”

I had an uneasy feeling, but I held my poker face. Always. “Why wouldn't I? What's goin’ on?”

He laughed out loud, “You haven't heard? One of these niggas tipped off the cops.” He narrowed his eyes at me accusingly, his graying eyebrows knitting together in the middle of his forehead.

“You don't think I told anybody, do you?” I barked back. I noticed a glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling it around tauntingly. “Spyder you know I wouldn't do that.”

“Do I?”

“I've been here since the beginning! How would I benefit from exposin’ this place?”

With alcohol in one hand, the other held a Cuban cigar. This really was a scene out of a movie or some shit. I briefly wanted to look around for a camera or something. The thin cloud of smoke left his lips slowly, mockingly. He resembled a lion stalking its prey. “You tell me.”

“Fuck this,” I grumbled under my breath. I didn't tell anything to anybody. Why would I? I would go down with all these niggas so why would I risk shit like that? I wouldn't. This was pretty much the highlight of my day, so I didn't see the need to take that away from myself. Spyder was fucking around with me and I did not have the time tonight.

“Yo Trig, you check the score tonight fam?” I didn't remember his name, or meeting him for that matter, but he glanced up from his iPhone screen with a Cheshire Cat smile. “Yo’ ass won! Warriors wiped the floor with the Rockets.”

That's thirty grand in my pocket. I checked the score just to make sure, as everyone was doing, and sure enough. My boys took home another win, even without Steph Curry. It was an easy win, but the punk who bet me didn't know any better; he was new around here. Everyone knows not to bet against the Warriors this season. They lost, what, nine games total in the season? Shit was a no brainer.

I honestly forgot they were playing tonight.

Axel dragged his feet over to me with a duffel bag full of money and he was almost pouting. “Damn man, I knew I shoulda listened to my gut.” He chuckled uneasily as if I was gonna hurt him - which I wasn't. “I figured since Curry was out, they wouldn't stand a chance.”

For this to be his first bet, I did kinda feel bad for him. “My nigga, one guy doesn't make a team. Don't give him that Lebron treatment. He thought he was the best player in the world, even admitted that in an interview, and what happened? He lost to the Warriors. Curry has enough common sense to remain humble.” I scratched at my beard and sighed. “I'll tell you what, keep ten grand for yourself. Just give me twenty.”

His eyes traveled from the bag to myself and back again before he unzipped it and took his cut. He handed the bag over to me and backed away before I changed my mind. With no need to stay any longer, I showed myself out and headed home.

I never accepted alcohol or drugs when I came here. I didn't want anything to sway my thinking, like them other niggas. They made it so easy to manipulate them into betting stupid shit. I used that to my advantage and no one has caught onto my games yet. They were too intoxicated to care that I was blowing through their retirement funds. Might as well just give me their entire life savings.

When I was safely in my car, I discarded my pair of gloves and removed my hat. I'm sure I looked crazy as hell wearing gloves but again, I didn't want to get caught up.

Since I was pretty much right up under Spyder on this food chain, that meant I had a lot of power. People knew not to mess with me when it came to money. I would never threaten physical harm like some of the other guys, but I knew how to get my point across with words; I didn't need to resort to violence. All this power meant I had more to lose, which made it more likely someone would try and jeopardize that for us all.

These guys also knew the risks of getting the authorities involved: making good on these threats. Their families, gone. Their homes, gone. Their lives, gone. It just wasn't worth it.

As long as I knew it wasn't me spilling the beans, I didn't give two fucks about who it was. I wouldn't go down with the rest of these niggas - it was impossible.

Right?

#my work;#trey songz fanfic #j. cole fanfic

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