#And ending up in like a holding cell at a real police station

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 38

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If it weren’t for the fact that he and Riko had stumbled across a truly traumatizing video of his birth that they had watched secretly in Tetsuji’s office when he was away on a business trip one weekend Kevin would believe that he was born with an Exy racquet in his hand. But the image that is seared into his retinas to this day has proven that he came into this world empty handed.

That doesn’t change the fact that Kevin has spent the majority of his life utterly and completely submersed in Exy. He was trained as a Raven, he was court, he was a champion as both a Raven as a Fox and if he had his way he’d leave college with more Championships under the orange and white than the black and red.

Exy was everything in the world to him.

He could overlook many personality defects if someone brought something to the Court.

Apathetic five foot nothing who was more likely to stab him than shake his hand? Well, he’s the best goalie that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life (and that was saying something).

Tight ass who has anger management issues and will not shut the fuck up about his girlfriend now that he’s not even allowed to have? Well, he is a very solid backliner who has excellent ball handling skills (even if Aaron keeps telling him to stop saying it like that or why he keeps yelling that he’s straight).

Overly touchy, too emotional, will not shut the fuck up about his fiancé in Germany? Well, he is a very solid backliner who is great at rebounds (Kevin doesn’t get why Nicky gets mad when he says that or why he brings up Erik).

Guy who actively dislikes him and is dying for any chance to punch him and also being overly attached to his friends? He’s a great enforcer on the court and had the stamina to play far longer than the other two backliners (Why Dan always said “yeah he does” whenever Kevin commented on Matt’s stamina he will never understand, and he also doesn’t want to.)

Suspicious kid from Millport with a mouth that could strip paint and a past so shrouded in mystery that it even had Andrew perking up in interest? Well, he’s the fastest Striker in the game and the only person that has ever kept up with Kevin’s obsession with the sport. (There was the minor downside that he was the son of the Butcher and almost died before the championships, but Neil pulled through.)

He tolerated all of them and now they’re his best friends.

There are some who he does find personally objectionable but so long as Jack and Sheena manage to continue to be good on the court he doesn’t care about the many many faults in their personalities. They’re his teammates, they aren’t his friends.

He accepted that he might not like any of the others that came onto the team. For the most part he had never given a shit about before the Foxes, content with his brotherhood with Riko even if it wasn’t…perfect. Then he became friends with FF and FF had done him a truly large favor and Kevin wanted to pay that back the best way he knew how. Through his truly infallible health advice and through perfectly crafted smoothies.

Then Daniel appeared with the truth that FF truly met all requirements to be a Fox and Kevin tasted his own smoothie for the first time.

He considered both revelations to be equally upsetting.

Still…

FF was one of the best dealers Kevin had ever had the pleasure to be on Court with. The man knew his position well and interrupted offensives with an enviable ease that made Kevin wish to possibly strap some sort of device onto him and figure out how he did certain things.

It wasn’t that far off to believe that a man raised in the same environment as FF could possibly have similar talents and since Lisa fucked off back to some small town cult they really did need a good sub. Sheena was a good offensive dealer but they had games coming up where defense would be imperative and FF did not have the stamina for a full game and likely would not for quite some time considering he’d be recovering from being stabbed.

So, he’d defended Daniel’s right to try out.

At first, he had felt vindicated. Daniel kept up quite well during the initial warm-ups. Kept pace with Jack, Sheena, Aaron, Andrew, and Nicky. Kevin had been bringing up the rear mostly to make sure that Andrew didn’t stab the guy during warm-ups.

Then it was time for the first precision drill.

The other thing about how Kevin was raised is that he was raised surrounded only by the best of the best. The Ravens were at the top of the Collegiate hierarchy. The National Court used their stadium for practice.

The worst Exy that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life up until the moment that Daniel took hold of an Exy racquet was still only the worst team in Collegiate Division 1 Exy.

Then Kevin watched the ball go so wide that the entire court went silent.

All of the drills that followed were as bad, if not worse.

Kevin felt himself start to vibrate with anger the longer it went on. He started to shout corrections at Daniel but the younger man merely rolled his eyes, “I think I know what I’m doing.” He would say before pointedly proving that he did not.

Kevin only realized nearly an hour in that he had wasted his entire practice shouting himself hoarse at the actual waste of human life that was Daniel Stanton.

Kevin could accept being bad at Exy and having an inoffensive personality. Kevin could accept being good at Exy and having a bad personality.

Kevin could not accept being bad at Exy and having a bad personality.

Coach Wymack called the practice to an end and Kevin thought that he’d manage to keep his anger mostly inside (he is ignoring the near hour of practice he spent screaming directions) when Daniel decided to deliver the Coup de Grace.

Sweat soaking his bangs, panting, and without a single thing done correctly (even the way he was currently holding his borrowed Exy racquet set Kevin’s teeth on edge) the man had the gall, the gumption, and the absolute AUDACITY to come up to the coach.

“So, where do I sign?” he asks.

Kevin sees red and unleashes hell.

***

This was the most fun Andrew has had at a practice since he started having to come to them.

The look of embarrassment on Daniel’s face as Kevin accurately tore into everything he did wrong on the Court and every personal failing that Kevin could home in on. His attention shifted away to FF sitting in the stands near the University official who was shaking her head at the obvious poor showing. The University may have wanted Daniel around to spruce up the Fox’s marketability but even they couldn’t let someone so obviously awful onto one of their few Division 1 teams.

FF was sat sipping one of Kevin’s god awful smoothies looking completely unshocked by Daniel’s showing.

Kevin turned his attention to FF, “You said he was good!” Kevin points at the freshman as he continues to sip the drink.

Andrew interrupts, “He never said he was good.” He remembers the conversation so exactly and there are few things he loves more than having the opportunity to rub it in Kevin’s face when the man is wrong, “He said ‘Daniel has always been athletic’ never anything about him being good.” Andrew reminds.

Kevin whips back around to Daniel, “Have you ever even played Exy?” Kevin demands.

“I didn’t think it’d be hard to pick up.” Daniel argues crossing his arms defensively.

It sets Kevin off on another furious rant.

Andrew had thought that FF didn’t have a mean bone in his body and he’s quite pleased to have been proven wrong. The thought that FF had let Daniel get all the way into embarrassing himself in such a way?

Andrew had to give him props.

“How does it feel getting to watch this idiot crash and burn?” he asks coming to the glass.

“Really thought he could manage it if I could.” FF says with a shrug that has Aaron bark out a laugh.

“You really figured?” Aaron asks coming to stand next to Andrew.

FF just shrugs again, “I mean I also started not knowing how to play and now I’m on a pretty good team.” He says as if FF starting as a child not knowing how to play is the same as someone walking in demanding a spot on a college team.

Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Oh, Smithy I could kiss you.” Nicky laughs and makes his way towards the Court entrance to likely do exactly that moving past a Daniel who was so red in the face with embarrassment and anger that he looked as if he was about to turn purple.

Andrew tuned in.

“…small pond. The only reason you ever felt like you were worth anything is that Smiths was too nice to put you in your place before now!” Kevin was probably talking about medium-sized fish in a small pond but Andrew didn’t really care to know.

“Are you going to let him talk to me like this?!” Daniel finally turned to Wymack.

“Kevin, you shouldn’t talk to the public like that.” Wymack says without a hint of chastisement in his voice.

Kevin still straightened at the reminder, “You’re right. Sorry coach.” Kevin sneered at Daniel, “Get off the court before you taint it.” He hisses.

“You’re really not going to sign me?!” Daniel demands.

“Why would I?” Wymack asks with a raised brow.

“You took a chance on John!” Daniel points towards FF.

Andrew watches as Wymack’s face does something he’d rarely seen it do, it goes utterly and completely cold. “I don’t take chances with my kids.” He spat, “I give my kids a second chance. Get the hell off of my court.” He hisses.

Daniel’s face purples further before he stomped off of the Court.

“Don’t you dare walk off with that racquet! It’s worth more than you!” Kevin shouts after him and Andrew in that moment realizes that Daniel is going to do something stupid.

And FF is on the other side of the Plexiglass with only Nicky at his side.

It’s like watching a train crash.

Daniel might say something, but Andrew doesn’t know. He sees Neil rushing as well, his sense of danger always well-honed but Neil had been in Captain mode in the moments before walking some of the sophomore and freshmen through what they had done wrong.

Neither of them will make it in time.

Daniel throws his racquet, and he throws it right at FF barely 5 feet away in the stands.

The Racquet blows past FF’s head and Andrew lets out a breath.

Then before it could crash into the seats behind him and break FF’s hand wrapped around the shaft of the stick and stopped it’s trajectory.

“Your aim really isn’t getting any better by not listening to Kevin’s advice.” Smith says as he twirls the racquet in his hand so that the net was on the ground. “Also, don’t break the equipment, like Kevin said it’s pretty expensive.” He says.

Daniel let out a primal scream but where Andrew had stalled out to watch the miraculous catch Matt Boyd had not. Daniel was tackled to the ground by the backliner, “Absolutely not.” Matt said with a scowl.

“Smithy are you okay?” Andrew hears Nicky ask.

“Yeah, why?” FF asks as if he hadn’t just been attacked but considering everything that Andrew had seen it wouldn’t shock him if Daniel’s attacks were just par for the course back home for FF. “The racquet looks okay too.” He adds.

“Coach Wymack,” The University representative made their way down looking flustered at the outburst of violence.

Obviously not someone who regularly watched Exy or paid attention to their team.

“This is why I wanted absolute control over who does and who doesn’t get a shot here.” Wymack hisses pointing at Daniel as he struggled under Matt.

“You have our sincere apologies for this.” She says looking at Daniel, “He didn’t… we thought he’d be good for the team’s culture but it seems like we may have misjudged-“

“That guy just tried to take Smithy out!” Nicky interrupts.

“I told you he was dangerous.” Neil adds.

“Can someone call campus security?” Matt asks from the ground, “This jackass keeps aiming for kidney punches and I would like to not be pissing blood during winter break.” Matt requests.

“O-of course!” the University representative says fumbling for her cell phone.

Andrew looked at Matt and figured that the backliner had a handle on that particular mess at the moment.

He made his way over to FF and Nicky who was checking over the freshman.

“Nice catch.” He says.

FF shrugs, “It’s my racquet he was borrowing.” He says, “I didn’t want to get a new one.” He adds.

***

FF watches as campus security took custody of Daniel as he continued to spit and scream. There are talks about pressing charges, but FF just wants Daniel off of the campus and away from him. It’s Jack of all people who says that getting a restraining order is a great way to make sure Daniel stays the hell away from him and FF nods consideringly.

Honestly, he’s still mostly in shock he managed to catch his racquet the way he had. His reflexes weren’t quite up to snuff since he’d been trying to catch the netting, but his hand only closed around the shaft.

Embarrassing.

He really hopes no one teases him about his slower reflexes.

“He needs to be charged for assault at least.” Kevin hisses as they watch the security officers take Daniel away.

“It’d be attempted assault.” Aaron corrects.

“He assaulted my eyes with his Exy.” Kevin insists.

“If that counted as assault, don’t you think I would have pressed charges for all the times I have had to see you dance at Eden’s?” Neil asks. “Also, you’re the one that insisted he try-out.” He reminds.

“Smiths told me he was good!” Kevin screeches.

“No, we’ve been over this Day. Smithy said he was athletic.” Nicky reminds. “Are you going to do what Jack suggested?” he asks turning to FF.

“I’d like to see significantly less of Daniel.” FF admits.

“You know he did actually commit assault, if I pee blood I’m making Kevin go buy me pads.” Matt says.

“Whatever.” Kevin says as they continued to make their way back to the dorm to get ready for the day.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

#Fluent Freshman AU #Up next is the Winter banquet and Winter break #looking forward to that as well #I'd like to thank Snow for their help with some decisions made in this chap #and declunkifying some of my phrasing #I would also like to thank the new Jujutsu Kaisen OP for being a banger #also Unfathomed Force from Trails to Azure OST for continuing to be a banger #Grandma Smith is heading home in the next part which makes me sad even if she hasn't featured a lot in the drafts since the hospital #Daniel absolutely ends up punching a security guard #And ending up in like a holding cell at a real police station #He has one call #And he calls Smith's number demanding he come and help him get out #too bad the only number he has is a phone sitting in Wymack's desk #Guess someone else is gonna have to come and pay bail and help Daniel outta there #also my apologies for putting Daniel on u Elle Woods but it's for the meme #Also also I would like to give a shoutout to Matt Boyd who made the 'save of the day' #Its an award usually for goalies but u da real MVP today #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #FF - 38

[myobmaya]

Heart In Hawkins

Verse 3 | Eddie Munson

premise: After being arrested Hopper, takes you and Eddie to the local Hawkins jail where you two finally are able to hold a conversation without fighting.

TW: none for this part

Introduction/Masterlist | Verse 2

Eddie stares at the peeling wall in front of him. It has five cracks on the left side and a small nail hole on the right. It’s from where the window pane has been replaced since the building was built. Or at least that’s what Eddie has concluded after studying the wall for the past twenty minutes.

The tapping of your shoes against the concrete echoes through the jail cell. The only sound that comes from you.

As much as he tries not to, his eyes cast over to where you sit on the mental bench. You stare down at the floor, arms folded into yourself with a blank look on your face. Your back is straight, refusing to touch the wall behind you. Eddie looks away just as you eyes glance up to look at your estranged husband sitting across from you.

Eddie sits on the floor, knees crossed, back against the wall. His eyes are getting heavy but you see how he fights the exhaustion by squeezing his eyes shut only to force them open.

The lack of sleep he got last night combined with dodging your kicks are starting to catch up to him and he’s never wanted to sleep in a motel bed so badly before. Even the ones he’s used to sleeping on while touring sound like a dream despite the fact the sheets hardly get changed.

Hopper sits behind a desk watching you both. He takes note of the way Eddie’s eyes shift over to you every couple of minutes before landing on his shoes. He catches the way you look at Eddie every time he shifts his legs or changes sitting position. The two of you are stealing glances at each other but never capturing the longing look in your eyes. The chief of police rolls his eyes. He thought hearing you two shut up would be better than the bickering, but the silence has never been so loud. The tension in the room runs thick and Hopper finds himself reaching inside of his pocket for a cigarette.

Hopper’s bored and he has no one there to watch you and Eddie for the night. He sent El home shortly after arriving at the station and he’s already regretting that decision. The paperwork on his desk remains untouched. A job duty he should probably be working on but will probably end up in the trash as he sees no real reason to keep you and Eddie. The crime was committed years ago and clearly has since been forgiven given the way El convinced him not to take it seriously.

The intention behind locking you both up was never serious. Just a way to get you both a reality check. But the cat and mouse game between you and Eddie peaked Hopper’s interest. Drama. It was a trait Hopper always denied, but everyone knew he secretly thrived off of. One that clearly wasn’t giving him any sense of entertainment at the moment.

A yawn is heard from Eddie as he stretches his arms up. Hopper watches as you look at Eddie. Eddie doesn’t close his mouth causing the ripple effect to take place on you. You soon follow his lead and let out a yawn to which Hopper tries to fight his own. The three of you are fighting the tiredness in your bodies as more time passes by.

Eddie and you exchange a glance at each other. His cheeks tint red and your eyebrows raise. Both of you have finally caught each other.

Now it’s getting good, Hopper thinks. He’s ready for the silence to end. He leans forward, arms against the top of the desk ready for some action.

You turn your head and find interest in the wall. Eddie goes back to looking at his hands. Hopper rolls his eyes. It’s all it takes for him to decide that having you both locked up isn’t beneficial to anyone including himself.

He places the unlit cigarette between his lips. The clock on the wall behind him ticks on signaling him to get this show wrapped up. His hands press down against the desk and with enough force he pushes himself back. The screeching sound of the wooden chair sliding against the concrete causes you and Eddie to meet Hopper’s unphased look.

“Try not to kill each other while I’m gone,” He’s grumpy, already making his way to the door. A thought pops up in his head and he looks over his shoulder. “I’m gonna step out and make a few calls.”

Calls.

Eddie’s heart drops hearing the word. His mind goes back to his phone that he had at the bar. He didn’t think to grab it while he was being arrested. The look of fury on your face was too good for him to think about grabbing the device. Nothing is funny anymore as dread takes over.

He wonders if she’s called. If anyone had taken his brick of a phone and answered it. Would she have called again? Would she say anything if a stranger picked up and asked questions? Scenarios run through Eddie’s mind. Nerves run through his body and his hand unconsciously raises to his lips. The side of his thumb nail meets his mouth and he begins to bite on it as his mind runs wild.

You watch as Hopper makes his way to the door. Feeling the daggers in the back of his head he turns around and catches your eyes. You want to narrow your eyes at him for putting you in the same cell as your husband. Throw in a jab. But you remember your age and know everything Hopper does, he does it with purpose.

Despite giving him trouble in your teenage years, the police man always looked out for you even when he expressed his distaste in your activities. So instead of sticking your tongue out at him, you give him a half hearted smile. Hopper grabs his coat from the rack next to the door and slips it through his arms. He looks between you and Eddie. The two of you being a mystery he wants to solve. He nods at you and steps into the hallway leaving you alone with Eddie.

You wait until Hopper’s figure disappears from the window of the door before you allow yourself to look at Eddie. He’s lost in his thoughts as he bites his nail. The complete opposite of his fatigued figure moments ago.

Does Eddie really think he’s going to stay in jail? The thought is odd considering the care free spirit he always had. Jail was something you expected at least once for Eddie, especially considering his career choice. The thought seems silly but when his eyebrows furrow together that’s the only reasonable explanation for his panicked behavior.

You frown remembering he only bites his fingernails when he’s nervous. A habit you would instantly break by taking his hands and soothing them with yours. Rubbing the back of his hands as a distraction while you got him to tell you what was on his mind.

You want to do just that, but you stop yourself. It’s been five years. He probably has someone new to rub his hands. Someone new to throw him a rope into the dark sea that is his mind and pull him back to the safe shores of his heart.

The thought alone causes a lump in the back of your throat.

You wonder if the next person he loves would know how to calm him down. You wonder if he’s had someone calm him down the way you used to. Like the way you would wake him from his nightmares and soothe him. Does he still have nightmares? Does he still see your face in his agony and pain?

His breathing picks up snapping you out of your own head as he dives deeper into his.

Even if he has found someone new, they’re not here. You are. And as much as your brain tells you to let him deal with his anxiety, it also causes you to look down at the finger where he once placed a ring.

Until you sign the papers he is still your husband. One that left. But still your damn husband.

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Eddie.”

Your voice is quiet, but strong enough for him to snap his head up and look at you.

“Hopper’s going to let us out.” You see the way his jaw stops moving. It’s a statement you figured he would have figured out by now, but he has been gone. Things in California are different than here in this small town. Reminding him of the only logical fact that the town has very few officers you merely give him a deadpanned explanation.

“If we stay overnight, he stays.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide for a moment as he processes your words. You think he’s concerned about being in jail? Being arrested was nothing new. Being arrested with his spouse while his fiancé calls every five minutes was his concern.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Because as much as having his fiancé mad at him was bad, being stuck in a small confinement with a pissed off spouse was a death wish.

His throat clears as he quickly takes your concern and runs with it. He looks around and notes that Hopper was the only one here after he sent El home. He removes his hand from his mouth and lets out a dry chuckle.

“Damn,” Eddie wipes his hand on the front of black denim pants. The wet fingernail feeling raw against the cool air. “That son of a bitch really knows how to fuck with people.” If that’s what you thought he was concerned about, he’ll confirm the suspension. Anything to make sure you don’t find out the reason why he dodged his phone calls. The reason why he needs to divorce you.

You shake your head watching him let out a shaky breath through his mouth. “The man has been out to arrest you for years, Eddie. Of course he’s going to take the first opportunity to put you in cuffs.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders back before bringing one fist up against the palm of his other hand. The sound of air escaping the joints in his fingers creates a nice cracking sound in the silence as he begins to relax. His phone dilemma still stands in the back of his mind but knowing he won’t have to spend the night in a jail cell gives him one less thing to worry about. Even without trying, you found a way to calm him of one of his many concerns. His eyes trail over to you.

You’re still sitting on the bench with crossed arms, but your ankles are linked together now. You sit with your back against the wall. The complete opposite from when you first arrived. Despite the hard bench you’re sitting on, Eddie notes that you’re comfortable now.

Your eyes focus on his hands for a second before they meet his. He thinks you’ll break the contact but when you only blink at him he feels his cheeks begin to burn.

“That’s true. The old man has always wanted me in cuffs,” Eddie agrees, going back to your previous statement. He’s the first to break the stare, looking down at his wrists. The faint red lines from the metal bracelets mock him. They take him back to a memory that you two shared as teenagers. A night of truth or dare that resulted in you being dared to steal a pair of handcuffs.

He thinks of the pair of cuffs that hung in the trailer of his room as a teenager. The ones you gifted to him as a token of your victory to one of his truth or dare games. The smile on his face isn’t hidden at all as he looks up at you through his lashes. “At least you didn’t take off with this pair this time around.”

His sentence catches you off guard. Your jaw drops, surprised he remembers that, even more shocked he brought it up. Eddie’s laugh echoes through the cell as you shake your head at him.

The memory of you distracting Hopper before snagging the cuffs plays vividly in your head. Laughter bubbles up in the back of your throat and you allow it to spill out. Eddie recalls the look on the police officer’s face when you were confronted the next day and both of you share the laughter. The sound of both of your laughters can be heard outside of the door Hopper stands behind. He looks through the window with a small smile on his face.

For a moment the two of you are wrapped up in nostalgia, the happy past warming you from the cold bittersweet present.

Hopper turns his attention back to his cigarette. It’s almost out but the urge to taste coffee with the tobacco craves his taste buds. It always gives you and Eddie a few more moments to live in the past.

A cough escapes you, your body telling you it needs air. Eddie soon follows suit and you both settle down. It’s weird to sit here in a cell with him. It’s crazy you managed to share a laugh with him. But something in the back of your head tells you that it feels right.

You sigh with a faint smile on your face. Eddie watches as you drop your gaze down to the floor.

“I can’t believe you remember that night.”

Your confession is genuine. It had been years since that night even crossed your mind. Eddie shrugs his shoulders before rolling them back to find some comfort in his form. “Of course I remember that night. That was the night I told you I was—,” Eddie stops himself.

Your eyes find him. You know exactly what he was about to say.

That was the night I told you I was in love with you.

You want him to say it out loud. Admit that at one point in time he did love you just as much as you love him.

Eddie prays you don’t fill in the blanks. He hopes you’ve forgotten that night. The two of you are so far from those teenagers you once were. Neither of you can afford to go back.

When he licks his lips and averts his eyes to the door you know he won’t finish his sentence. You clear your throat. Maybe it’s better not to bring up that that night was the first time you gave yourself to Eddie Munson.

Eddie runs a hand through his messy hair. His bangs stick up from the sweat and dirt. The humidity combined with the quick movements of dodging your kicks earlier resulted in the sweat that caused his curls to be more coiled at the roots. The rest of his hair frames his face as it stops just above his shoulders.

As much as he looks like a mess, he still looks good. Part of that fact annoys you. The urge to reach over and ruffle your hand through his bangs so they can lay flat again makes your hand twitch.

He looks around the cell. Anywhere where your eyes can’t read him. Hopper’s loud voice can be heard from the hallway indicating he’s close by. Eddie gets a feeling that as soon as Hopper’s back the tension between you two will return. Just as soon as Hopper’s mumbled voice gets close, it fades out as if he’s walking down the hall again.

Eddie takes the opportunity and starts up a conversation hoping the civilness can stay, “How much longer do you think we’ll be here?”

Your mind takes over your heart and you’re no longer fond of the memories of your past. Something about Eddie wanting to leave the cell causes an ache to replace the warmth that was just felt in your chest.

Of course he wants to know how much longer. He just can’t wait to get out of the same room as you. Your thoughts take over your heart. Deciding to put up a front, you feel yourself adding more bricks to the walls of your emotions.

You smile sarcastically at Eddie. “Why? Do you have a meet and greet to get too?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. The way you used to support his career now use it as an opportunity to hold it against him doesn’t sit right with him. “No. But, I’d like to get out of here before word gets out to the press.”

You stare at Eddie with both eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You saw how packed out the bar was. Someone’s probably already spreading news that I got arrested! ” Eddie stands up from the ground and begins pacing. “Fuck, words already going around. I just know it. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You want to laugh at him for having such a big ego. For thinking that the town that raised him would sell him out. But the moment you see his hand reach for his mouth you know his concerns are valid.

“Hopper’s most likely trying to get ahold of El so she can take you back to whatever cave you flew out of.”

Eddie stops in his tracks with an unamused look on his face. You only nod your head to the arm covered in bats before shrugging your shoulders. He can be mad at your remark all he wants, at least he won’t be biting his nails.

“I’m serious. I don’t need anyone talking to anyone about how I was arrested.” Eddie thinks about the many things that his manager would hold back if he found out he was causing trouble.

The metal bench you’ve been sitting on since you got here starts to feel like it’s becoming a part of your body. You stand up, arms pulled up towards the ceiling as you lean back. A satisfied sigh leaves your mouth as you stretch. Eddie watches the way your shirt rises above your hips giving him a glimpse of the skin he used to kiss every morning.

Just as quickly as your shirt rises, you pull it back down taking a few steps to get the blood rushing through your legs.

“Eddie, do I need to remind you that this town is too busy talking about itself to even focus on you?” You stand in front of the window. Metal bars are placed in front of it ensuring no one can escape. You can make out the darkening skin just outside the wall in between the bars.

Eddie’s head tilts to his shoulder staring at your back, “Everyone talks, sugar. You and I both know we’re going to be on tomorrow’s front page by the time we’re let out.”

Sugar.

The nickname comes with ease. A name he often called you by in endearment. One that you only wonder who else has the title now. An unsettling feeling crosses your heart as you think of him calling anyone else that. You want to tell him to never call you that again. But you don’t. Instead you pick up on his concern and use it to turn the tables on him.

“That might be true, but the only one taking the Hawkin’s newspaper out of town is,” you spin on your heel and turn around to face him, “You.”

His face hardens and you can’t help but to challenge him. You take a step towards him and he takes a step back. His adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

“Besides, getting arrested for possession and dealing?” You take another step towards him. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty metal to me, baby,” A wink is thrown his way followed by your small grin. The nickname falls from your mouth with ease. The intention behind it is to match the smile on your face, but it sounds so natural as if it were his name instead of Eddie.

Baby.

Eddie fights to hide the smile hearing you call him that. It always sounded so smooth tumbling out of your mouth. Now it only serves him as a reminder of the past that he tried desperately to forget. He blows out an exaggerated sigh to cover his smile but you catch it.

You ignore the way your heart beats against your chest. Eddie tells himself to get a grip.

He doesn’t say another word when he moves past you. He takes a seat on the floor despite the bench being available. You stand leaning against the bar cell.

A comfortable silence sits over you. Eddie sits with his knees in front of him, his hands resting in between them. He takes his pointer finger and slides his ring off only to push it back down. You watch as he repeats the actions. He’s bored.

His ring finger is the only one that remains bare. Not even a tattoo sits there unlike the rest that are scattered throughout his body. It’s almost as if it mocks you letting you know that not even your statement of him can take that spot on his hand like it used to.

You remember wishing for this moment for so long. Not exactly in jail. But talking to him again. To have him back even if you know it’s only for a moment.

The question’s been heavy on your mind the moment he showed up on the front porch step. It won’t go away until you get your answer. You need to know if he blames you for that night.

His name is whispered from your mouth before you realize what you’re about to ask. You find yourself meeting his gaze as he snaps his head up to look at you. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. Preparing yourself for what he has to say.

“Why are you here?”

“You snitched to Hopper that I sold drugs to his kid.” He smirks. You only stare at him. He knows what you’re asking. He can’t charm his way out of it like he’s done many times in the past. “I told you. To get you to sign the divorce papers.”

You swallow and look down. Divorce.

“What? Didn’t think I’d ever come back?”

“No, I knew you would someday. For Wayne’s funeral at least,” your smile is anything filled with happiness but you still have the courage to look up at Eddie once more. He sees the sadness in your eyes. Confusion crosses his mind.

Didn’t you want a divorce? To be free of him? You hadn’t reached out to him during his absence. The silence on your end only told him you weren’t bothered enough to go after him. Eddie thinks about how Steve Harrington opened the door that he once carried you through. Eddie remembers the child on your hip when you walked up to see him standing there in the rain.

Why couldn’t you have just reached out to him and started the process yourself? Eddie’s mind gets ahead of him and now it’s his turn to ask you the burning question.

“Does Harrington know we’re still married?”

Your head leans forward as you look around the cell before landing your eyes on him, “Of course he does.”

Eddie scoffs. His arms cross and he’s shaking his head. “What a real fuckin’ man. He’s got some balls on him. Though I’m surprised you walk around with his child wearing my wedding ring.” The audacity of Steve Harrington to start a family with someone who's already married.

You feel your jaw drop open. Was that jealousy coming from Eddie? Over Steve? You remember the look on Eddie’s face yesterday when he saw you with Harry. The missing puzzle pieces of Eddie’s assumption are found. You want to laugh at him.

“Wait,” you hold a hand out in front of you. “You think I’m with Steve? Steve Harrington? The guy who was a witness at our wedding?”

Eddie nods his head as if you were the one in question. You’re in too much of disbelief to physically react. What kind of person does he take you for? Does he really think that lowly of you to assume you would cheat on him?

You shake your head, “I’m not with Steve.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and throws a hand in your direction. “Even better. The dude can’t even do the right thing and be with you for the sake of the kid!”

Confusion crosses your mind taking in Eddie’s words. Wait, he thinks Harry is yours? The child is a splitting image of Steve. He clings to you so you can see where Eddie has the idea after yesterday’s interactions.

You can’t help but to laugh at how Eddie must perceive you. Eddie shakes his head not believing you can find humor in your situation.

“Listen, I admire that you can laugh but, darling, this doesn’t look—“

You cut him off before he can finish the sentence. “Harry isn’t mine either, you idiot.”

All forms of anger leave only for embarrassment to replace it in Eddie’s body. He scratches the back of his head. “Oh, well. That’s good.”

The flush of his cheeks leave you with an upper hand. You take the opportunity and take a step towards the bench. Eddie’s eyes go wide in surprise when you stand in front of him.

“I mean,” you pause, taking the seat right next to him, “You would have known that if you were here.”

Eddie folds his hands into his lap. He doesn’t back down from your challenge. He knows he’s not the only one at fault. “Well if you had followed me I wouldn’t be questioning if you were with another man or not, sweetheart.”

You’re quick to defend yourself, “I did! You were—” his widening eyes shut you up making you realize what you just said. The secret you’ve held onto for years slips away in a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s question is full of genuine shock. You went to California?

Your mouth opens, ready to gas light him into thinking he misheard you. Instead, the wooden door is swung open hitting the wall causing you and Eddie to jump at the unexpected noise.

Hopper’s loud voice echoes from the cell, “Alright, jail birds. I think I’ve proved my point.”

From behind Hopper, Steve follows inside the room. A disappointing look on his face as he sees you. You just wave at him with a guilty smile on your face.

Hopper takes a key from his back pocket, “As much as I’ve been waiting years to get the Munson’s behind bars, quite frankly, my bed is far more desirable.” He twists it into the lock and swings it open.

You and Eddie share a look at the mention of your shared last name. Neither of you recovered from the conversation that was just interrupted. Yet, you both know it’s one you’ll have to come back too.

Eddie holds a hand out to you gesturing for you to walk out first. You gladly accept his manner and immediately greet Steve in a thankful hug. He smells like coffee and his hair is a mess telling you he was probably in the middle of working from home when he got the call to get you. You make a mental note to make him dinner for having to stop work to get you from jail.

Steve wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace. Steve sees Eddie over your shoulder and gives him a tight lined smile. Eddie catches it and his face sours at Steve.

Steve ignores the look knowing that Eddie has nothing to be jealous of. The countless nights you’ve spent crying on Steve’s shoulder was enough for him to realize Eddie Munson will always have your heart. He pulls back from you only to land a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie shrugs it off.

You give Eddie a pointed look at his rudeness towards Steve to which he dusts his jacket off from where he touched him.

Steve ignores Eddie choosing to take the friendly route for your sake. “Well, I should be shocked but given you two were known as double trouble I can’t say I’m surprised to find you both here.”

Eddie looks at you. You feel his gaze on you but you refuse to meet it knowing he’s not going to let go of the confession you made before Hopper came back. Steve sees the urgency in your eyes and follows your lead.

“Well, I hate to leave so abruptly, at this fine establishment,” Steve places a hand on the back of his hip waving his other hand around, “but I have paperwork to finish and you need rest before tomorrow’s carnival.”

You give Steve a subtle thank you turning to Hopper, “I’m good to go? No bail needed?”

Hopper picks up his hat from the desk, “Have those white lillie’s Joyce loves so much for her booth and we’ll forget tonight happened.” You smile at Hopper’s deal knowing you already had his wife’s favorite flowers in your arrangement.

Eddie watches as you turn your attention back to him once more. You’re about to tell him to meet you at the house so you two can talk but stop when you see a familiar face walk up to the doorway.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite father in law!” You push past Eddie and run straight to Wayne. You engulf him in a hug to which he pats your back. The man wasn’t one for affection, but you know you know he loves you like his own. Despite Eddie leaving, you still kept Wayne close. A relationship you both were glad to keep in the heartache of your husband leaving without notice.

Wayne’s lips press together knowing your familiar phase is about to be greeted with the same remark he’s given you the day you married Eddie.

“I’m your only father in law, sweetheart.” His voice is filled with anything but amusement. You only scrunch your nose up with a genuine smile knowing he loves the greeting despite his lack of enthusiasm.

“I know, but I figured I’d try to say it one last time before I can’t,” you turn your attention to Eddie with a cocky smile on your face. Wayne, prepared for Eddie’s appearance thanks to Hopper’s call, looks over at Eddie. His expression is unreadable as he stares at his nephew.

Eddie watches the exchange between you and his uncle. Guilt automatically running through his veins knowing he hasn’t kept his uncle in his life.

Wayne is unreadable. You know he’s happy to see Eddie, it’s been five years. But the hurt he felt when he found out Eddie left overnight still remains.

“What do you mean?” Wayne asks, looking between you and Eddie. You know Eddie hasn’t spoken to Wayne in years. Having him come back and not even saying hi to the man that raised him will only cause Eddie’s quick stop in Hawkins to last longer.

You contemplate if you should reveal the reason why he came back. Part of you says not too. To let Eddie say it himself. But the other part of you, the petty part that looks around the jail cell and remembers Eddie dragged you here, is sounding a lot more fun. You look at Steve for the confidence to rat Eddie out.

Steve glances at Wayne, Eddie then you. He shakes his head. Not like this.

Wayne asks again what you do you mean and you know what Steve was hinting at. Wayne doesn’t need to know he’s losing another family member. Not like this at least. Out of respect for Wayne you swallow back your pride and choose your words carefully.

“I think you and Eddie have some things to catch up on.”

With that you give Wayne a goodbye hug. You look back at Eddie me last time for the night. Both of you silently reeling each other the conversation isn’t over. Steve shakes Wayne’s hand and follows you out to drive you back to get your car from The Hideout.

Wayne waits until the door is shut before he nods his head at Eddie signaling him that it’s time to leave the jail cell.

The two Munson men don’t say a word until they’re inside of Wayne’s truck. Eddie is the first to break the silence when Wayne pulls out of the parking lot.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Eddie’s genuine when he says it. Wayne was the last person he was expecting to see. For him to not only come to his nephew, but pick him up from jail reminds Eddie of how good his heart is. The guilt only adds on when Wayne just gives him a small nod.

“Where are you staying?” Wayne’s already on the highway. There’s only a few motels in town all within a five mile radius of each other. He doesn’t have a long shot to guess which one his nephew is crashing at.

Eddie looks out the window in front of him. No one else is on the road. A sight he hasn’t seen since going to California where the traffic is never ending.

“The motel off of The Sixth.”

Wayne grunts. Eddie feels the need to add in the fact that he’s paying for the night. Something to add so Wayne doesn’t feel like Eddie came into town for a long stay with zero plans to see him. But, Wayne just turns on the radio allowing Eddie to cut himself off the opportunity.

The two drive listening to the radio for another five minutes. The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go Now begins to play. Wayne sees Eddie’s body freeze from the corner of his eye and he can’t help but smile at the irony of the song.

Wayne reaches over and turns the knob to mess with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t allow himself to sing the lyrics despite how much he enjoys the music. Instead he hums along to the song beating his fingers against his thighs. Wayne shakes his head once more, turning his attention to the road.

The song ends without either of them saying a word. Neither one of them knows how to break the silence.

Eddie’s too stuck in his head thinking how he should start explaining to his uncle why he left. Wayne’s trying to find the right words to say to his nephew. He’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and losing Eddie right when he just got him back.

Wayne is a mile away from the motel when he finally coughs. The question burning in the back of his head. Eddie immediately turns his attention to him.

“How long are you here for?”

Eddie winces. The guilt sinking in his core with a simple question that holds a deeper meaning. He knows what Wayne is really asking. How long until you leave again?

“I was planning on being out of here by today but some things are being held up,” Eddie answers truthfully. Had you just signed the divorce papers yesterday like he planned he wouldn’t be here. Eddie wishes he were on a plane. His hatred for this town grows with every minute he’s here.

The vehicle comes to a brief pause when Wayne pulls up to a stop sign. The motel is only minutes away now.

“You thought staying at a dirty motel was better than staying at your own place?” Wayne throws Eddie a raised look before pressing his boot on the gas pedal.

Eddie has no explanation for that. Of course, Wayne would question why he’s not staying with you. The man is one of very few words, but he does observe. Eddie wonders how much he’s seen over the years of his absence.

Wayne sees the wheels turning in Eddie’s head. He pulls up to the parking lot and puts the vehicle in park. He sees his nephew struggle to come up with an excuse.

The sweat he has working up is enough for Wayne to know Eddie’s trying to find the right words to say. Wayne doesn’t need the right words. He just needs the truth.

“Your appearance in town,” Wayne begins as he unbuckles his seat. He reaches down under the seat to retrieve the item he’s been hanging onto, “It couldn’t possibly be due to the fact that your fiancé doesn’t know you’re married, could it?” He pulls Eddie’s phone from its hidden spot. Wayne throws it onto Eddie’s lap not caring to be gentle with it. The phone bounces onto Eddie’s lap as he stares down at it in shock.

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. He’s a grown man, yet he feels like a child that just got caught stealing out of the cookie jar. How did Wayne get his phone? Did she call while he was sitting in the jail cell? Did Wayne talk to her? What did she say to his uncle?

Wayne leans back in his chair, leaning an arm against the window of the car. Without a second glance to Eddie he turns up the radio just enough for Johnny Cash’s voice fills the truck.

“Get your bags and check out. We have a lot to discuss.”

Eddie doesn’t argue with Wayne. He knows Wayne caught him red handed and he can’t run. He opens the door without another word and goes up to his room to get his backpack.

Wayne watches Eddie disappear into the room. He sees the light switch on and sees the silhouette of his nephew gathering his items. It only takes Eddie three minutes before he’s outside the motel door and making his way to the front of the building with the keycard in hand.

The older Munson man was prepared for more of a fight, but as soon as he saw the way Eddie held himself back, he knew his nephew wasn’t going to go against him. Wayne was never one to get into other’s business.

A firm believer that the less you know, the better.

But, the way Eddie’s eyes have lost their shine is enough for Wayne to know something is going on. Eddie isn’t the same man he raised. Wayne makes up his mind that he’s going to get answers from the boy he raised.

Starting with the night Eddie left town.

A/N: First off, I owe you all the biggest thank you for sticking with this story. All of the kind messages and support means more than you all will ever know. Second, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. Life hit me very hard and reminded me how short life is. I saw two people that reminded of the innocent and good we have in the world leave this one, two weeks apart from each other. I didn’t know how to pick up anything without crying. Without feeling guilty. Writing has always been an escape but it turned into my worst enemy as I could only see the tragedy play out in front of me every time I tried to escape. Every time I wrote something I just ended up deleting it. But I’m so lucky to have such an amazing support system not only in person and also online. To my writing crew, y’all know who you are, thank you for keeping me sane. You all mean so much to mean. Biggest thank you to @loveshotzz for not only being my biggest supporter but a genuine light for me during such a dark time. This part wouldn’t even be written without her.

I’m sorry for abandoning this story when you all never left me in the first place. You all mean so much and I can happily say I’m back:)

Part 4

taglist: @the-iridescent-phoenix @littlesubbyflower @sidthedollface2 @ghost-berri @maystecc @munsonzzgf @hauntingbastille @zvcdvm @aedicn @haylaansmi @erisdogwood @marisurmommy @tlclick73 @secretdryrose @k4g3hika @bibieddiesgf @sweetsweetjellybean @foreveranexpatsposts @brittanyyydamnit @emiluvmybf @ghostfroggi @tayhar811 @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @lokiofasgard616 @madiisixx @omgvirtualcupcakecollection-blog @micheledawn1975 @alyisdead @prestinalove @mxciscastleintheair @harrys-tittie @mopeymopeymouse @kirakirakill @edsforehead @jazzycurls @sammararaven @eddiesbabe95 @z0mbie-blah @massiveduckkidcookie @nightless @mxcheese @fouf2424 @vulcrum332 @thcorvi @mirrorsstuff @screaming-blue-bagel @briasnow-blog @trixyvixx @browneyes528

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #it’s always been ​queue you bb

[ohbo-ohno]

Okay so BO!!! I have two brain worms lately that I wish to share but I’m only gonna tell you the one now because I’m lazy. Police Officers!Ghoap stopping your friend for speeding and seeing Reader in the backseat, drunk and to yourself, waving at them excitedly when they look in your direction. It gets Johnny all excited and before Ghost can even say anything he’s telling your friend and you to get out of the car, giving you both field sobriety tests. You fail and your friend passes but they both lie and say that they failed and that they have to take you both into custody. Taking you to the station and frisking you, Soap reassuring you when you ask if it’s normal to need two officers for a search. Ghost holding you still when Soap starts to remove your clothes, ignoring your whimpers and whines when he gropes at the flesh of your ass, resisting the urge to bite into it. And then Ghost says they have to do a cavity search on you to be certain you don’t have anything dangerous to hide :((( 🧡🧡🧡 - 🕸

ooh you should maybe check out No One Has To Know by Carin Hart! tbh i wasn't a huuuge fan, but it's got a stalker police officer who kidnaps the fmc and uses his position as an officer to threaten her

anyways! i very rarely write it bc i've actually never been drunk (looong history of addiction in my family) and i feel like if i tried i'd sound like kid guessing at what drunkenness is lmao but! i fucking loooove noncon (dubcon?) with a drunk victim who wouldn't consent if they weren't drunk, and the abuser takes complete advantage of that. hot as fucking hell. and the talking them down the next morning, gaslighting them into thinking they did consent? ohhh i eat it up

anyways 2x. im obsessed with what you've sent me, may i offer some variations?

rookie cop soap & experienced (and jaded) cop ghost who's stuck as his partner. they take both you and your friend in and soap takes you into a private room for your search but ghost can just tell that soap is gonna get himself in trouble, so he finishes his search real quick and goes into the private room to find johnny humping your back while you grind on his leg :( soap freezes in fear because he is actively assaulting you, but ghost just sighs and closes the door, grunts "hurry up, then. need to get her in a holding cell. can spend some more time with her then." and johnny moans, making you moan, and the two of you are just a soaked and desperate mess of limbs

ghost and johnny pulling you over alone on the side of the road in the middle of the night. they handcuff you and you're too scared to fight back, and they insist on doing a search, and then a cavity search before they take you in their car :( you're squirmy and scared and trying so hard to be good, and ghost and soap play good cop/bad cop with you. except, surprising you, ghost is the good cop and soap is the bad cop. mostly because ghost is near silent and soap is rough, kinda mean, while ghost is just ordering you around. anyway the interaction ends with ghost fucking you with his gun :/ you're trying so hard to be good but it's scary and soap keeps threatening to gag you if you get any louder :(

ghost and soap sneaking into the holding cell, making you stay silent in less you want your friend to wake up and see you taking their cocks so well :/ age-old trope but reader getting interrogated by ghost and soap and totally abused and violated as an interrogation method :/ ghost getting mean mean and telling you he'll either fuck you with his baton or beat you with it :/ soap making you shine his badge with your tongue while he's railing you :/

#🕸 anon #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #bo writes

[chronicbeans]

Wally Darling and a Restoration Project Reader (part 9)

YIPPEE

TW: Cults, Religious Imagery, Mentions of Possible Murder, Death

🗞️ You immediately text your friends, Amy and Finn, telling them to come over. You also tell them to introduce themselves as your friends, in the hopes that they make it through the gates without much trouble.

🗞️ They say they will arrive within an hour, allowing you to start your part of the investigation early. Looking around the room, you focus on the posters of Barnaby. The eyes are scratched out on every one, almost like someone took a knife or pin and scraped the pointed end against the poster. You can even see the scratch marks in the wood. Your wonder increases, causing you to search a few of the drawers.

🗞️ You find old clothing, such as suits, ties, pants and the likes. On a desk by the bedside, you see a small jewelery box. You open it, finding a collection of sun shaped pins, cufflinks, and even a few sets of sun and moon earrings in small plastic bags. You pick a set of earrings up, looking at them closely. They seem to be made with real gems. There are notes on each bag, every one saying "To the One". If you had to guess, this man might've been a hopeless romantic! How cute!

🗞️ You hear the door open, seeing both Amy and Finn run in, out of breath. Finn seems to be holding a paper, showing it to you "I... I found the guy that wrote the messy writing! Apparently, he is related to Caesar Jones, the voice actor and creator of Wally! I-" he cuts himself off, looking around "Holy... what is this place?" You grin "This is the room of William Dorelaine! He is the brother of the original creator, Ronald Dorelaine!"

🗞️ Amy looks around, her eyes settling on something by the door. She walks over, before there is a heavy clunking, then a small huff comes out of her mouth. She turns, holding a hatchet in her arms. "This man must be very obsessed with suns and moons. Even his hatchets match that theme. Kind of like Wally with apples..." "What's that? ... Why would he have this?"

🗞️ Both you and Amy look over to Finn, seeing him holding a newspaper. "I found this under his mattress. Here, let me read it out..."

"CULT LEADER FOUND DEAD IN POLICE STATION! The leader of the mysterious cult tormenting town has been found dead in the local police station this afternoon, after being arrested at the parking lot of Playfellow Workshop. It is currently suspected that the sheriff, Sheriff Dekker, killed him after being provoked by the leader, Father Simon "Luna" Johnson. There was a note found in his cell, mentioning how he has been "crucified by the public" and how he shall be a "martyr for the truth". He also wrote down how he shall be resurrected, returning to earth in a body that his followers will recognize instantly by their actions."

🗞️ You all look around at each other. Finn pauses, before saying "There are a few scribbles on the page. Little notes. It is in the same handwriting as William. "Look for the values" and "I must find it", with the last one saying "Sunshine, Sunshine, I love Sunshine", almost like a name instead of just the word." You look over to the jewelry box, remembering the earrings. "I... I feel like we should go..."

🗞️"Come on, (Y/N), a little creepy newspaper article doesn't mean anything. I mean, from what we heard from Mr. Jones' relative, he was really into investigating cults. Maybe William was the same?" Finn nods, explaining "Yeah. He just liked looking into them. How about this? I'll take this book I found. The lock on it should be easy to crack open with my pliers, at home, and we can all look into it, tomorrow. If we find nothing of concern, we will come back to investigate more." Amy then takes the jewelry box, adding on a quick "I just think these are pretty neat!"

🗞️ You look at the book, the unnerving symbol giving you a sense of dread. The symbol seems to be a sun and moon crammed together, with a hourglass in the center. There are a few stains of red on the edges of the hardcover, with a few more on the pages. You swallow, nodding. "Sure. I'm going to go outside, now. Let the Dorelaines know what you took, okay?"

🗞️ As you begin your walk home, you get a call from your mother. Answering, you hear her speak in the harsh tone she uses when upset or annoyed "(Y/N), what have you done know?" "What do you mean, mom? I did nothing! I just went around town, and-!" "There's a man here! He says he is a Dorelaine! Says he wants to talk to you! You better be here quickly, or else I'll lose my temper with him! Keeps talking about Sunshine, like a madman!"

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home au #wally darling #wally darling x reader

[oneofstarkskids]

fresh out the slammer

pairings: steve randle x reader

summary: steve's gotten himself into trouble... again. but it's alright, cause he knows who his first call will be to.

a/n: not my usual fandom, but you can hardly blame me.

*not my gif*

you had planned for a quiet evening full of studying for an upcoming test, but when you're dating steve randle there is no such thing as a quiet evening. your rotary phone rang loudly from it's place on your desk, scaring you half to death.

you jumped up from your bed and reached for the device. breathlessly, you held it up to your face, "hello?"

on the other end was that charming voice, smooth as butter, "hey darlin'." you couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at your lips, and thank god he couldn't see it.

"steve randle! do you know what time it is?"

steve chuckled on the other end, "yeah. sorry to bother you, sweets, but i need your help."

worry suddenly washed over you and your brain went through every possible scenario, "are you okay?"

steve thought it was cute how concerned you sounded, "i'm alright. i just need you to come pick me up."

you frowned. pick him up? steve had his own car, so why would he need to be picked up? "from where?" you asked curiously.

"me, dally and two-bit are kinda in the slammer..."

you were furious. why would this man think it would be a good idea to call you? he knew exactly what you thought of his talent to get himself in trouble.

nonetheless, you loved him. sometimes you wondered why. so, you made your way over to the curtis' place to tell sodapop what happened.

he wasn't all that surprised. he just grabbed his coat and you caught a ride with him over to the station.

soda filled out some paperwork as you talked to an officer. "no chargers were pressed so bail's not an issue, but this will go on their records."

you gave him a tight lipped smile, "thank you, officer." he led you down the hall towards the holding cells.

dallas was sitting on the floor with one of his legs propped up, looking bruised and pissed off as ever.

two-bit, who hardly had a scratch, was standing against the wall with his arms crossed.

and then there was yours, standing the closest to the bars with an apologetic smile on his face as soon he saw you.

the officer unlocked the cell and the boys slowly walked out one by one. you didn't say anything, just gave them all a stern look and walked back the way you'd come.

they followed a bit behind, but steve hurried to catch up to you, "baby, i'm real sorry."

you tried to ignore him, but he was persistent, "not here, steve." by the time you guys had gotten back, soda had finished all the paperwork and you were free to go.

soda, two, and dally went straight to the car but you paused, "stevie and i are gonna walk home. thanks for the ride."

steve pouted, "but i'm tired." you shot him a glare. you were not going to put up with his whining right now.

soda nodded in acknowledgment and drove off with the others.

the two of you walked for a bit until you felt like you were far enough from the police station to kick his ass.

"what did you do this time?" you asked in annoyance. steve placed his hands on your arms, "it wasn't my fault, darlin'! those soc's were fixin' for a fight."

you scoffed, "then that's something you have in common."

steve shook his head, "wasn't like that. we were smoking outside the dingo and they roll up in their fancy mustangs with some kinda grudge."

steve wouldn't lie to you and you knew that, so it didn't take long for your anger to fizzle.

"i really wish you wouldn't get yourself in these situations," you sighed as you eyed his scrapes and bruises.

"you don't gotta worry about me. i can handle my own," he smirks and pulls you closer by your waist.

you rolled your eyes lovingly, "i know you can. sometimes i just wish you wouldn't."

steve shook his head, trying to understand what you meant, "and run away? no way. those stuck up soc's get what's comin' to them. i'm never gonna stop fighting, baby. i can't. not after everything they done."

and for a moment his macho exterior fades and you see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"stevie, you know i love you, right?" you ask with a soft smile on your face.

he smiles back, but it quickly turns into a smirk, "does that mean i get a kiss?"

your laughter fills the night air, "not with that busted lip."

you turn to continue walking but steve, who now has a taste for revenge, comes running up behind you and swings you off your feet.

you helplessly protest so he puts you down, but he doesn't let you walk away just yet.

swiftly, he grabs your hand and spins you to face him before planting his lips on yours.

despite the fuss you had made, you kiss him back with just as much fervor.

as soon as the kiss is over his expression turns very serious, "i still can't believe you had soda leave us here to walk home."

he curses from the sting of your playful slap.

#fanfiction #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders fanfiction #fluff #so fucking cute #hes my babygirl #steve randle #tom cruise #steve randle x reader #steve randle x you #fresh out the slammer #ttpd #taylor swift inspired

[latelyanobsession]

Jailbird

summary in the wrong place at the wrong time. caught holding the bag. what rotten luck you have! hauled in on a 24-hour hold, how are you going to survive? will your boyfriend bail you out or leave you high and dry?

warnings cursing, illegal drug sales, mentions of underage drug use

word count 1,403

note based on a request: "Could I request something with eddie munson where his sweet innocent type girlfriend gets arrested because of something someone else did? Like shes being framed and didnt actually do anything and he has to figure out how to get her out of jail because he knows her fragile self wont last in there."

ok, but this is just genius! and quite frankly i think it's great. i've only made a few changes

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Bouncing his leg, he looked at his watch as he sat on the edge of his bed.

1:47am. Where were you?

The phone rang. Eddie flying up and rushing to the phone, practically ripping it from the wall.

"Baby? That you?" he asked tensely.

"E-Eddie?" you voice quivered from the other end of the line.

He let out a huge exaggerated sigh, knees bending and threatening to give out under him.

"Baby!" he groaned in relief, a hand pressed flat to the wall above the phone. "Where the hell are you?"

"You were supposed to be back, remember?" He prompted, pressure in his voice.

"I... I'm in jail...." you practically whispered.

"What?!" Eddie shouted through the phone.

You winced holding the phone away from your ear.

"What happened?!" He yelled, not lowering his tone one bit.

There was a pause as you inhaled.

"Um... there was a wrinkle at Rick's house..." you spoke slowly.

Not good.

Grimacing, pulling his hand into a tight fist Eddie seethed, pounding the wall.

"What was that?" you jumped.

"Nothing..." he grumbled, "You ok?"

"Y-yah..." you looked around the station, "Uh.... I'm ok. But uh, Eds. I can't exactly call my parents about this."

Resting his forehead against the wall he sighed, "yeah I get it."

"Can you bail me out?" you asked hopefully.

"Lemme see what I can do ok?" Eddie replied.

"Ok. I uh... gotta go." You parted, hanging up.

Eddie stared at the receiver shoulders slumping.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed, throwing several frustrated punches at the air.

You were at the Hawkins Police Station for what felt like ages.

Scared stiff. Trying to remain as calm as possible in your little corner of the cell they walked you into.

You were doing pretty well considering this was the first time that you had been jailed.

... That was until Officer Callahan brought in a pair of cellmates for you around quarter after 2am.

These two women were drunk and angry at one another. One sitting near you. The other sitting at the opposite end of the cell.

Their voices raised and echoing off the painted cinderblock walls as their dispute resumed from where it had been paused earlier.

You covered your ears and tucked up your knees, trying to be as small and unimposing as possible. Maybe they'd just eat each other whole and they wouldn't even notice you?

Suddenly a hand was on your shoulder. Sharp acrylics digging into your skin.

"Darla would you shut the fuck up?! Look! You're scaring the poor kid!" the ashy blonde rasped with a hefty cough.

"Like hell, Fran!" the younger woman with curly black hair retorted, "Kid's just a wimp! Do her some good to hear a real argument!"

Fran's nails raked up and down your spine, making you shiver with discomfort.

"Darla don't be such a bitch... look at her! She looks like a kicked pup!"

Their argument began to shift, becoming about you and your wellbeing without ever directly addressing you.

You had no idea how long their arguing went on for before Callahan finally came back, a cruller in hand.

"Ey!" he chewed thickly, "Ock it off... please?"

The women eyed each other hotly, and sat down. Fran sitting next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Things finally settled as time continued to tick by. The women growing drowsy.

Fran falling asleep across your lap, stretched comfortably across the bench you shared. You didn't dare move for fear of waking her. Your back growing stiff and your tailbone beginning to ache.

What time was it? The night had to be nearly over... Your parents were going to blow a gasket if you weren't at the breakfast table.

Your father ran a tight ship. Your parents didn't even know you were seeing Eddie... as you conveniently slipped away on nights when your mother had book club or your father was at the VFW.

Speaking of... Had Eddie forgotten about you?

Was it that bad?

Of course it was.

You had seen things on the news... Heard the sound bites that President Reagan and your local politicians pushed.

Drugs were a menace. They needed to be wiped out. That there would be no sympathy. For anyone.

The earliest twinges of sunlight were rising on the horizon.

He wasn't coming.

You were marked. Another bad seed. Into the system.

You tilted your head back, sniveling. Trying to stave off the tears. But it wasn't working.

Your life was in shambles.

BAM BAM BAM

"Y/N?" a voice bellowed, followed by the distinct but rude wrapping of metal rings on a laminated countertop.

BAM BAM BAM

"YYYYYY/NNNNNNN?!?!" the voice yelled again, singing it out desperately. "Baby you back there?!"

"Hey you can't just come back here! — Wait a sec...!" Callahan shouted from down the hall, falling out of his chair. His feet sliding off the top of his desk in a frenzy to catch up. Tripping over himself.

You perked up, wiping at your eyes. "Eddie?"

He popped his head around the corner, caramel eyes softening as they washed over you.

"Hey babes."

"Eddie!" you hiccuped pathetically, shoulders trembling.

A hand grasped Eddie by the shoulder.

"Hey!" Officer Callahan wheezed, "You can't be back here..."

"But officer..." Eddie pled, "My girl has no business being behind those bars. It's cruel really..."

Your lower lip wobbled pitifully with hope as Eddie poured on the charm.

"It's just a case of wrong place wrong time... innit that right baby?" he cooed over his shoulder. You nodded furiously in response.

Callahan stretched his back, a creak in his spine pulling a wince on his face.

"Now I know you may think your girlfriend is an angel but we found marijuana on her..." he stated, "federal weight..."

Eddie paused, chewing his tongue as if this information were entirely foreign to his ears.

Nodding his head side to side, Eddie waved the officer to lean in closer.

"So you're telling me... that in your youth... you never once got stopped for weed?" Eddie charged, clasping a hand under his chin in thought.

Callahan paused, his eyes flitting from Eddie's face to yours and then back.

"Well I... " he began.

Eddie held up a hand. "So you're going to let this child..." he motioned to you. "This pristine example of Hawkins' future be ruined... for having weed?" he emphasized, eyes narrowing in feigned disappointment.

Callahan looked at you. You tried to muster up as much of a pitiable face as you could. Sniffing and letting a stray tear run down your cheek.

The officer groaned, pinching his nose, his glasses sliding up his face.

"Alright..." Callahan whined in exasperation, relenting. "But you better not tell a soul I let her out of here..."

He stared at Eddie. Then pointing two fingers at his eyes and reflecting them at you.

You nodded gratefully as he went to get the keys.

Stepping up to the bars Eddie grinned devilishly, arms crossed in triumph.

"You didn't think I was coming... did you?" he accused, tipping his head down, looking at you over the bridge of his nose.

Your face flushed as you quickly darted your eyes away.

"Eds... 'm sorry..." you mumbled tapping the toes of your shoes together.

He leaned against the bars, "S'ok baby... one lil mishap ain't gonna set me back too far. I got ways to make it up."

"And you can make it up too..." he hummed, biting at the pad of his thumb, eyes batting at you.

"Not the time..." you whined half-heartedly.

He smiled shyly.

"So aren't you gonna introduce me to your new friend?" Eddie pointed at the still dozing woman, who's head was in your lap.

You blushed, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Uh... this is Fran... it's a long story." you giggled.

Callahan returned with the keys, and fetched you from the cell.

After a few signatures and some light finger waggling you hopped into Eddie's van to get you home before your alarm clock would go off.

Parking around the block, you stole a handful of kisses before slinking back in through your window and under the covers.

"Did you have sweet dreams?" your mother asked, at the breakfast table.

"Y'know... at first it seemed like a nightmare... but yeah... they were pretty sweet." you replied thoughtfully, scooping a piece of melon from the rind before taking a bite.

#stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson fanfiction

[smartycvnt]

Jail Break

Pairing: Tiffany Valentine x Reader Prompt: "Good morning gorgeous."

"Careful with this one, she's a real psycho," the police officer who had arrested you warned. You saw the already terrified look on the rookie's face and decided to fuck with him a little. You growled and snapped your teeth at him. The poor guy jumped back, making you laugh. "Just take her back. She gets her own cell, for the safety of the others in holding."

"What, no search?" you asked as the rookie brought you back to your holding cell. It would only be a matter of time before Tiffany came to your rescue. She'd realize that you weren't in the hotel room anymore and come searching for you. You doubted that you'd be here for more than a day. The two of you had real work to do, important stuff that these stupid cops weren't getting in the way of. Hopefully they wouldn't figure out exactly who you were before Tiffany could come to save you. "Where's my phone call handsome?"

"Those are for our cooperative jailbirds," the cop said. You scoffed as you sat back on the bench. It was pretty late, so you decided that there was nothing better to do than try and take a little nap. Whenever Tiffany got you out of here, you'd be the one driving across the country trying to find a nice place to settle down for a little while. It was always the same thing with the two of you: find a place, stay for a couple months, get into a squabble that somehow ends in murder with someone else, go on a spree together, and move. It had sort of been like that for both of you all your lives, but now you got to do that together.

"It'll be your funeral Peppa," you muttered under your breath as you pulled the thin blanket over your body. Sleep didn't come very easy for you without Tiffany there, but it was easier when you dreamt of her. You could still sort of hear the cops stopping by your cell throughout the night, but most of them were too afraid to stay very long. Staying partially awake started to feel useless until you heard the familiar click of stilettos on the cheap tile flooring. "Good morning gorgeous."

"Oh, stop it. I think we've got about 5 minutes to get out of here before the reinforcements get here," Tiffany said as she unlocked your cell. You hopped up to your feet and led her out of the police station. The two of you ran over to her car and drove off, keeping watch for anybody who might have been following you. "Alright, I think the coast is clear."

"Thanks for the rescue," you said as you slowed the car down a little. Tiffany brushed it off, as if it was nothing to her. You didn't think so, especially since she could have easily just left you in town to rot in a cell for the rest of your life. "I mean it Tiff, I know I'm not him."

"You're so much better to me than he ever was," Tiffany told you. She turned your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. You glanced at your reflection in the rearview mirror and smirked when you saw the smeared lipstick on your lips. You didn't know where the hell the two of you could go now, but you knew that you'd be fine as long as you were together.

#chucky x reader #chucky imagine #chucky imagines #chucky #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #slasher #tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader #tiffany valentine imagine #tiffany valentine imagines

[xaeyrnofnbe]

here’s the general plot i have in mind for my ZTHAB (Zeros To Heroes And Beyond) au. (so far. think of this as a first draft)

because i’ve been meaning to get around to it. i’m organizing it by arcs bc that’s the best word i can think of off the top of my head for this. you could also think of them as chapters. or episodes. yeah 👍. also i do not intend to write this as an actual fanfic because every time i try to do something like that i lose so much steam and excitement for my idea.

characters will be prefixed with mana! or prime! at the beginning of a paragraph, so assume i am talking about that version until i explicitly mention the alternate version of them.

oh and important detail: albatrio are basically platonic soulmates. so keep that in mind.

this au is based on a single just roll what-if. i have had too much fun with this. well, me and @theblacktiecacti who has suggested SO many good ideas that i have since incorporated.

(also, even though this is an alternate universe where things play out wildly different, there are still a LOT of spoilers for the riptide campaign, so i wouldn’t recommend getting into this idea if you aren’t caught up. not really any spoilers for prime defenders though.)

anyway

ARC ONE

mana!gillion, after attacking mr. ferin, is hauled off by guards. but instead of being banished from the undersea no forced to swim to the surface, (like in canon riptide,) he is brought to a room with a portal, which activates, and he is pulled through. he then falls from the sky in the world of prime.

previously on the prime side of things, prime!chip and prime!jay meet for the first time. this happens in a police station in a very tall building. flying cars are present. chip has been arrested, jay works at the station but isn’t officially an officer yet. she just kinda gets to hang around and do the jobs bc of who her dad is. she questions chip, who is having none of it and highly suspects her of having powers, much like himself. she denies this. but when he teleports out of the building while she isn’t looking, to sit on a narrow ledge, jay impulsively flies out the window to go grab him, blah blah, “so you DO have powers,” he invites her to join his new team of superheroes. she accepts begrudgingly. it’s basically like their first meeting oneshot, just in a different context.

back on mana again, mana!chip and mana!jay are blowing up the navy tower on zero, but things don’t go exactly to plan. they barely make it to the big chipper before they’re captured by marshal john, and taken to a holding cell until jay’s dad arrives, and takes her away. this solidifies in her mind that her undercover pirate thing never would have worked out anyway. she decides her best option is to climb navy ranks until she can find and kill her sister’s murderer herself. and chip? he’s left for days, stewing in irritation and building up a heavy grudge in response to jay’s betrayal, and he escapes before he can be taken anywhere worse, and sets off on a stolen ship looking for some real pirates.

ARC TWO

mana!gillion wakes up on a kitchen counter in prime!chip’s little apartment. prime!jay is also there. gillion, at first, is disoriented and lashes out, but he’s quickly calmed down by his new companions, who are incredibly curious about whatever the hell this fish guy’s got going on. the two wannabe heroes catch their new friend up on where he is and what’s happening, (at least, as far as what they’re aware of; they won’t find out about his banishment for a long time.) at some point, it turns out chip’s been training some kid who also has powers, (ollie,) and thus, the oneshot what-if this is based off of, occurs. nothing comes of that, they still aren’t prime defenders.

mana!jay is, indeed, rising in the ranks. she’s becoming a formidable soldier. and mana!chip finds mana!lizzie, and joins her crew, the grandberry pirates, with the end goal of getting back at the navy and by extension, jay.

ARC THREE

in both dimensions, something isn’t right.

mana!gillion finds himself at home and at peace with his hero friends, but something isn’t quiet right. he’s like a puzzle piece that fits perfectly, and yet is from the wrong set entirely. additionally, there’s an individual, labeled a supervillain by the news, that’s been stirring up trouble in the very city the three friends live in, and gillion can’t help but find the mechsuit of this villain incredibly familiar. gill also gets some new clothes, and some more futuristic armor. pretzel keeps her hero mask.

mana!chip is falling into old patterns from his time with reuben price, and is becoming nearly as ruthless as his captain.

mana!jay talks to her friend, kira, who voices some concerns. jay brushes these off and continues training and barking orders at the people around her. but when she is faced with a portrait of her sister, she starts to wonder if this is worth it. she spends a lot of her time alone crying.

ARC FOUR

mana!chip and mana!jay meet for the first time since zero in a tavern on neutral soil. jay doesn’t think of her leaving chip as a betrayal, but he does. she talks to him like an old friend, even tries to invite him to join her in her cause. but chip is angry. his hurt bubbles and boils under his skin, manifesting in an off putting display of lava cracking between his skin around the edges of his face, and he attacks her. the two fight, and when jay inevitably beats chip, she spares him, but leaves knowing exactly what they have become*, and exactly what she needs to do about it**. (*arch enemies) (**kill or throw every single pirate in the deepest darkest prisons, including chip.)

mana!gillion and prime!chip and prime!jay attempt to stop the new villain that has finally become enough of a threat for heroes to be an adequate force of retaliation. the robotic figure is about fifteen feet tall, and greatly resembles gillion, with black, turquoise, and pink plates and pieces, like a full suit of armor. it is called The T1d3str1d3r, or The Tidstrider, or just The Strider. the names it is given are varied. it also has a pink, octopus-like robot that breaks free of it’s surface in order to join in on the fight.

at a certain point during the fight, the heroes are split up, and mana!gillion goes searching for his enemy in an alley, only to be met with a single glowing blue eye in the darkness, and a voice not unlike his own. this is where he properly meets the prime version of himself. when his foe steps out of the shadows, prime!gillian introduces himself. he’s working with a group of vigilantes, with the goal of doing good for the city, even if they have to do bad things to get there. but that’s not the whole of it, as prime!gillian is onto him. he knows that mana!gill isn’t meant to be on prime, he knows he’s from another world. and he’s barely able to finish his monologue before mana!gillion slams into him and they fight, now with prime!gill at much more of a disadvantage, having sent his mech off to fight prime!chip and jay.

ARC FIVE

after a few more, uh, incidents, the two gills come to a truce of sorts. they’re both the same person, kind of, so they’re kind of the only ones who Get It. and eventually, mana!gill takes prime!gill to meet with his friends properly, who much to his surprise, (and kind of disappointingly,) they really hit it off. mana!gillion isn’t sure why exactly he’s upset at this, but he suddenly feels like a fourth wheel to a friendship he had helped happen. and it doesn’t feel good.

eventually, though, prime!gillian takes his new allies to his secret base. (i have not decided what the secret base is yet.) they meet the prime versions of lizzie, (who keeps everyone on task,) caspian, (lizzie’s #1 supporter and enabler,) marshal john, (the muscle,) edyn, (here called eden, she’s an inventor and mechanic,) and finn, (resident weird old guy who’s really into biology, zoology, writing romance novels, helping his granddaughter with her tech, and, finally, the multiverse.) chip is incredibly excited to see lizzie, since they were really good childhood friends, and he hadn’t seen her since the black rose heroes all split up and retired. mana!gillion talks to prime!gillian and finn, and learns about what they’ve been doing (studying the multiverse and trying to steal the tech they need to travel between dimensions, without success,) why he shouldn’t be here, and why his home dimension needs him.

over on mana, mana!chip and mana!jay have gotten to the point where they command great numbers of their respective people, and have been sending letters back and forth in an attempt to negotiate territory and resources, to no avail. they’ve also both had some pretty wild makeovers.

ARC SIX

tensions are rising.

mana!gillion is feeling more and more distanced from his prime friends. he realizes just how alone he truly is. at the same time, prime!chip and prime!gillian are having a fight on a high rooftop, (mirroring riptide episode #15 but with a more angry-looking gill,) but they do work things out eventually, and the two have a tender moment looking out over the city lights. mana!gillion starts helping prime!finn seek out facilities to rob that might have the stuff they need to send gillion home. gillion doesn’t know where his morals and beliefs lie in a world so alien to him.

mana!chip and mana!jay are at war. at this point, they’ve had some sailing scuffles. but now they’re planning the big thing, a huge battle. jay is an admiral of the navy, and chip has command over all the pirates lizzie, his captain, has recruited to their cause. both have had family and friends feeding into their drives of vengeance, both, at this point, want the other dead. the location for the final battle between pirates and navy is set: a large island that used to be home to a bustling civilization, now mostly abandoned and overgrown. all that’s to be done now is to prepare the armies for the fight.

ARC SEVEN

prime!finn has warned mana!gillion of how dangerous it is to be away from who should have been his friends. neither have any idea of what’s actually happening on mana, but they have clues that it can’t be good. all gillion knows is that the people he’s SUPPOSED to be with, are in grave danger. and his friends on prime? they have their own gillian. they don’t need him. he feels unwanted. so he, accompanied by the grandberries as well as prime!chip and prime!jay, break into the place with the parts, beat up some guards or something, steal the things, and return to base so eden and finn can begin building the portal to mana.

unfortunately, the battle is beginning. pirate and navy ships gather on opposite sides of the island, countless people waiting for their leaders to send them out onto the soon-to-be battlefield.

ARC EIGHT

with the portal built and tested, (tested at least according to finn, when a lot of water came out,) mana!gillion steps through, and falls from the sky once more, this time into his homeworld.

it takes him a great deal of time, but eventually he finds out what’s happening, and realizes he has to move quick, or else he’d lose the two people he’s never met, and yet matter more to him than either of his whole worlds.

don’t ask how he gets there, idk, but when he arrives to the battlefield, the fight has gone on all day. the sun is setting, blood is seeping through the grass and dirt, and he lunges forth into the fray, parrying some blows and dodging others, in search of HIS chip and jay.

he finds them and uhhhh. stops them from killing eachother? yeah the ending is something i’m still very much unsure about. group healing arc is required though. yeah

again, this is a very rough first draft. in a more realized version of the story, there would be a villain, some actual subplots, a big conflict that is actually properly resolved on prime, and more stuff going on on mana. yeah 👍

#zeros to heroes and beyond #ZTHAB au #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #things i said

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Always Not Far Behind

Ship: Anton Chigurh x Salem Nickle Newman

Word Count: 1249

Summary: Salem has been sentenced to prison time, but before he even gets to his cell, Anton appears to save the day. CWs for criminal activity, cops, murder.

Tag List: @futurewife @canongf

Sweat trickled down Salem’s back as he stood outside of a county police station, waiting for a bus as the sun beat down on his fair skin, an officer on either side of him and his wrists cuffed together behind him.

“Sheriff’s gonna be tickled pink that we finally caught that hitman’s accomplice.” One sneered around a toothpick. Salem spat on the orange dirt at his feet, turning it brown.

“You boys’ve got no idea of the Hell that’s coming your way,” they countered.

“Let him come. Kill two birds with one stone, usin’ you as bait.”

As Salem glared, a grey bus pulled up to the curb and they were forced onto it, facing a handful of other criminals and more cops. They heavily took up one of the empty seats and turned their head toward the dusty, tinted window as the bus took off. Salem had never been to a real prison before, though he could count on his fingers the nights he had spent in holding cells throughout his time as a wanted criminal. It was never a long time behind bars when Anton was nearby, but this was different. The authorities had caught Salem off his guard, in the few seconds where he and Anton were separated on the road, and sealed his fate in less than three days.

He was surprisingly going to a men’s prison, but in his mind he supposed the authorities thought that was a suitable punishment for his misdeeds, even if they didn’t really think of him as a man at all. Still, he believed Anton would find him. Still, he believed a violent storm was brewing on the horizon. The mental image of cops falling like dominos made Salem smirk to himself, only to earn a firm strike on the back of the head.

“Think you’re clever, quit your smilin’. Ain’t nothin’ good waitin’ for you at the end of this ride.”

Without Anton to remind him to bite his tongue at the best of times, Salem turned and retorted with a sneer. “Y’all can beat me ‘til my teeth fall out and my skin’s purple, I’ll still keep laughing in your face, Officer Pigdick.”

“Why I oughta--”

“Don’t waste your energy,” his accomplice butt in. “That’s what he wants, after all.”

There was a beat of tense silence before Salem was smacked again, making him wince. Then he was ultimately left alone. The sun was creeping toward the horizon by the time the bus reached the penitentiary, hissing to a stop. Slowly, it unloaded, and the small band of criminals lined up to enter the large, white brick building, surrounded by a tall, barbed-wire fence. While the building itself looked relatively clean from the outside, the fence was rusting and seemed to creak, despite a lack of wind.

“This a new one?” Salem asked the man in front of him in line, eying the building. He didn’t get a response, so he kept talking. “Looks like they damn near powerwashed the thing. Who are they trying to upkeep appearances for, us?? Bet it’s not that nice on the inside.”

“Shut up.” The fellow prisoner finally snapped.

“Gee, didn’t know cleaning was such a touchy subject for ya, guy.”

The man glared over his shoulder while Salem stood his ground.

“Who do you think you are?”

Salem smiled brightly. “I’m the number one business partner of Texas’ most-wanted hitman. Nothin’ can touch me,” he laughed lightly, squeezing his shoulders up to his ears in a cutesy manner.

“And where might this hitman be?”

Their eyelids flickered slightly, faltering as their shoulders came back down. “I don’t know, truth be told. But he’s gonna find me. Just wait and see.”

“So he deserted you, then.”

Colour rose in Salem’s cheeks. “No! Never. We got separated, is all. I went into a convenience store and he went across the street to look at guns... just my dumb luck that I’d bump into a damn uniformed sausage while I was there. ‘Cept he wasn’t in uniform, he was off duty, but he knocked me out cold and next thing I knew I was in the back of a wagon.”

“How far behind do you think he is?”

They chewed their lip for a moment before their brow furrowed. “I’m tired of talkin’ to you, if I weren’t cuffed up I’d swing you one right now. Why the hell’s this line takin’ so long?”

Just as it was uttered, the line began to shuffle forward as the prisoners entered the building. As Salem crossed the threshold, he felt an odd sensation on the back of his neck, as if a feather or a breeze had briefly whipped by his skin. He strode forward but paused to glance over his shoulder, eyes widening as the door was suddenly opening at a higher speed than expected. In a split second, Salem forced himself against the wall to avoid whatever was barreling his way. He recognized the blurry black and brown mass immediately as near-silent bullets whizzed across the room, hitting prisoners and police officers indiscriminately.

When things settled back into focus, Anton was staring intensely at Salem, his weapon slung over his shoulders as if it had never been in his deadly hands in the first place. Just as suddenly as everything had happened, Anton’s lips crashed upon Salem’s, a large, warm hand cupping their round cheek. It was sweet but firm, laced with the thousand “I missed you”s that he couldn’t put into words.

“You mind gettin’ me out of these cuffs so I can greet you properly?” Salem asked in a light and quiet tone as Anton’s full lips inched toward the corner of his mouth. The hitman nodded, fully pulling away as Salem turned around. It took no effort for Anton to snap the cuffs in half, releasing Salem from their grip. They flexed their hands and rolled their shoulders, rejoicing in the returned freedom before turning around and leaping into their partner’s arms, returning the initial kiss with distinct vigour. He held them in a close, almost suffocating embrace as lips and tongues and teeth were reunited under the hazy glow of fluorescent lights. The fusion was only interrupted by a siren, prompting the two to book it for Anton’s newest vehicle.

“Would you...?” Anton began in that molasses-deep voice of his, but Salem had already taken the shotgun off of his hands, rolled down the window, and began aiming at the guard towers.

“Right behind ya, honey.~”

A tight squeeze on Salem’s knee- Lord, I love you, boy -and the two were off like a flash as Anton backed toward the road, with Salem taking care of anyone who bothered to follow.

“Don’t scare me like this ever again,” Anton rumbled hours later, when the oppressive sun had finally disappeared, encapsulating the desert in cool, velvety darkness once more.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Salem scoffed as he applied chapstick in the side mirror, but his tone held no anger. “Like I was tellin’ the guy in front of me, just dumb luck.”

Anton grabbed his free hand. “It was too close.”

“Then we’ll lay low for a while. We’ve got cash.” A pause. “If anything I might even say you were worried about me.”

Without another word, Anton took their chin in his fingers and brought their face toward his, kissing them roughly and making them titter at the action. “Thanks for savin’ me, Foghorn.~ You’re my he-ro, hehehe.”

#self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #gay self ship #trans self ship #circus scripts #🐮Sugar Bully🐮 #🥤🌵.s/i

[shayewrites]

A Case For Daichi

pairing: officer!daichi x detective!reader

content warnings: please read as this story is heavy with them. mentions of suicide, homicide, murder, death, grief, extreme guilt, and mature language. read at your own discretion.

a/n: finals are kicking my ass, and likely yours to, so let’s just escape to a world where we don’t have to worry about them. right? right.

series masterlist.  next part.  mdni statement.

THE ATHLETIC TRAINER:

While the burning questions of which timestamp was the correct one and the identity of the individual who tampered with the evidence were still at large, it was decided that the both of you had no choice but to confront the Argentine setter. The only problem was that he was leaving for the early flight out of Japan in 1 hour. 

Both you and Daichi scrambled to get the paperwork in line so that should you have to bring in Oikawa to that station, the bureaucratic chaos that would undoubtedly follow would be easier to manage. First, they had to catch him before he left the country. Once he stepped foot onto that plane, Oikawa Tooru was as good as gone. 

You were on the line with the airport while Daichi was calling someone on his cell. You had Oikawa’s boarding pass flagged so that he would be barred from leaving the country without speaking to the Tokyo Police Department first. The airport wasn’t too far, given there was little traffic at the ungodly hour of 2 am, nearing 3, but if you wanted to intercept the setter before he reached the terminals, you would need to get a head start.

You pulled on your coat, grabbing his similar, dark trench coat and holding it out to him, “Come on Daichi, we need to get going.”

Held up a finger as he continued to talk, ““I know how this sounds. He isn’t in trouble just yet, but if he leaves the country, we could have a much bigger issue on our hands. We’re on our way, just try to stall until we get there. Thank you, Iwaizumi.”

Daichi ended the call while grabbing the coat from you, “Alright, let’s get going then.”

You were curious as to who Daichi may have been calling. Was it Oikawa? No, he had said the name Iwaizumi. That sounded familiar, but as you reached for the file to look, the patrol officer was pulling your arm towards the door, leaving the file open on your desk. You’d clean it up when you got back, you reasoned. Who was going to come lurking around your desk at this hour?

                                        …

Once again, Daichi insisted on driving, claiming that it was, “his car, his rules.” You had started to point out it was officially the Tokyo Police Department’s, but he had sent you a pointed glare the moment you had opened your mouth, silencing the thought before it reached your tongue. Instead, you sunk down into the seat, crossing your arms as you grumbled a reply. He didn’t have to be such a tyrant. He could at least let you try to speak every now and then. 

After two wrong turns for the airport, you finally chimed in, “Hey, I know you’re all brawn and no brain, but every moron in Tokyo knows that the airport is the other way.”

He grinned, almost as if he had been waiting on you to call him out, “I know.”

You waited expectantly for his defense, but it never came, instead, he pulled into a parking spot and stepped out of the vehicle, “Wait here, I need to pick something up from the apartment real quick.”

He left without giving you the chance to interject like you undoubtedly would. Was this something to do with the call he had made back at the station? Should you tail him to make sure he wasn’t doing anything shady? 

You could have kicked yourself. Here you were still doubting Daichi after hours together on a case. You were ashamed, but you couldn’t deny the overwhelming fear that Daichi might be doing more in that apartment than he was letting on. With a sigh, you opened the door and began to trail after your partner. 

You lost him on the stairwell, leaving you to guess which of the various floors he could have possibly entered. Guilt ate away at you, but you persisted, needing to confirm your suspicious nature was wrong to automatically discredit Daichi. After checking a few halls, you saw Daichi on the fourth floor hallway, chatting with someone you recognized from the case file you had left open on your desk. Iwaizumi Hajime, athletic trainer for Japan’s National Volleyball Team. He had provided the department with a statement confirming that Hinata had in fact been at the scheduled practice and was in perfect physical health prior to that fateful night.

Your heart sank within your chest as your suspicions were confirmed. Daichi Sawamura had lied to you. You weren’t sure why it hurt you this much, but you weren’t going to deny that it felt as if you had taken a punch straight to the gut. Why did he feel the need to lie to you? You had shared every detail of the case with him. Hell he had been there for each step of the way, so why was he going behind your back like this? Your mind dwelled on each question that swirled within your mind, all pointing back to the same conclusion. You never should have left the car. 

                                       …

When Daichi finally returned to the car, you were silent, uncharacteristically so. In the year you had spent at the precinct, you could always be counted on to be either humming to yourself while working on a case, or catching up with your co-workers. Your voice filled any room with a sense of ease, ease that was now turned to uncomfortable silence as you stared straight ahead, not once acknowledging his presence. Once Daichi turned the key, starting the engine, you finally spoke up, “Find what you were looking for?”

He narrowed his eyes, analyzing your strange mood swing. At first, he attempted to blame your evident fatigue, which was written across your facial features, but after a closer look, he realized the real reason for your distance. You had followed him. He sighed, knowing how the situation would appear to your small mind, as he would call it. Still, Iwaizumi could have been a crucial to the next step of this plan, something you wouldn’t have understood if he had explained it to you. You two simply thought too differently to work together, so what had he been thinking when he volunteered to work at your side? 

“Yeah,” he held out a pair of communication devices that would fit into your ears with ease, “an acquaintance of mine tends to tinker with technology in his free time and had asked me to test them out some time. I thought this would be the opportune time.”

You huffed, “I would have thought he was an gym guru. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the tinkering type.”

So you had followed him. He should have known better than to assume you’d actually do as he had asked. Stubborn detective, he thought. 

“You’re right there, but he remains close with a one of his high school friends, who just so happens to have more free time than he can dream of as a freelancer of sorts. He’s picked up all sorts of trades that way.” He gave you an accusing glance as he drove towards the airport, “Besides, I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

In that moment, you decided that he had a rather annoying face that was ready to set you off on any point. Were you really supposed to buy his bullshit like this? You didn’t really have an answer as you took one of the devices and placed it in your ear. You had more than a few questions for the officer seated next to you, but at least for now, you had a suspect to catch before he left the country on the earliest flight out to Argentina. 

shayewrites tumblr 2022

a/n: we’ve added another character! :))

case for daichi taglist: 

#shayewrites #anime #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! #shayewriteshq #shayewriteshaikyuu #hq daichi #sawamura daichi #daichi x fem reader #daichi x you #daichi x reader #haikyuu daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi x y/n #casefordaichi #hinata shoyo #hq hinata #hinata shouyou #oikawa tooru #oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa tōru #hinata natsu #natsu hinata #iwaizumi hajime #hq iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi

[thepenguinclub]

a cautionary tale

read the first installment of the teacher virgil series here, and the next one here. masterpost here.

virgil and oc, part of a series, read the first one for more sanders sides content but this is a stand alone, the oc is my baby boy respect him

Summary:

“What I don’t think you know, or what you don’t understand, is that there are consequences to your actions. This stuff you’ve been getting away with for who knows how long? You’re going to stop getting away with it, and when that happens, it isn’t going to end well. This shit you’re messing around with, it has real world consequences.”

“I don’t care,” Kane bit out sharply, meeting Mr. Sanders’ gaze. His teacher raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t care?” he repeated.

“I don’t care.” Kane shifted in his seat, tightening his still crossed arms. Mr. Sanders nodded slowly, and leaned back again, spinning slightly in his fancier chair.

“Alright,” he said after a second. “You don’t care.” He gestured to the door. “You’re free to leave, then.”

---

Kane is what people call a delinquent. A mischief maker. A bad kid and a worse influence.

Kane is, at heart, a kid who needs a helping hand.

————

hello! yeah so this is something i turned in for my creative writing assignment to write a cautionary tale. and of course my brain immediately went 'hmmm.... how can i sneak fanfiction into this' so here we are.

i know this is not the sequel people were expecting but give it a chance! i think you'll like it.

thanks to @sunbrightshadows for betaing, and for the very nice person in my cw class who gave me a wonderful peer review, as well as wrote a very nice story.

the junior lit. and lang. class of mr. sanders and what happens in it takes place in november. this takes place in april of the same school year, so after tjllcmswhit. why is that name so long honestly who named it that. oh right.

(virgil is a genius and graduates college early, which means he's 19 when he starts teaching (also 19 in this fic) for those reading as a standalone.)

enjoy!!

WARNINGS: swearing (lots), smoking, police, police stations/holding cells, descriptions of school fights (not very graphic), allusions to child abuse, mentions of parental deaths and unhealthy coping mechanisms for grief (i.e. overworking and fighting)

if i missed anything let me know!!

————

Kane ducked as Jackson’s fist sailed over his head, right where his nose had been. He reached up and grabbed Jackson’s forearm, twisting it to his left as he stood back up to his full height. Jackson grimaced, grunting as he used his other hand to try and get his arm free. Kane just smirked, using the opening to knee Jackson in the gut, causing him to double over with a pained wheeze.

“Finish him off, dude!” Dylan yelled from a few feet to his right, snacking on a bag of potato chips noisily. Kane spared him a roll of his eyes before following his advice, clasping his hands together and raising them above his head. Before he could bring them down on Jackson, though, the telltale clicking of heels reached his ears. He and Dylan locked eyes.

“Teacher,” Kane mouthed, and then they were off, leaving Jackson to catch his breath just as the teacher rounded the corner. They ran around the building, through the underpass, and all the way until the bleachers of the stadium field, where the junior army kids were practicing. 

“Shit, that was close,” Dylan panted next to him, pushing his hair off his forehead. Kane just nodded, taking deep breaths as he fluffed his own hair. “What was she even doing out there anyway?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Kane replied, shaking the leftover adrenaline out of his limbs. “All that matters is that Jackson is gonna snitch because he’s a little bitch, and we’re gonna take the fallout.”

Dylan swore under his breath. 

“We could spin it that you were just defending yourself,” he suggested half-heartedly, both of them knowing that there was no way out of it.

“Eh,” Kane shrugged. “What’s one more black mark, right?”

Dylan let out a little “amen,” before nodding in the direction of one of the school’s back doors.

“First period starts soon,” he said, and Kane grunted in response. They both walked through the doors and blended into the crowd of other students, following the flow to the fourth floor until they reached their destination, slipping through the doorway as the bell was ringing. 

“So close,” Mr. Sanders sighed. “One day you two’ll be late and I’ll finally feel vindicated.”

“I feel like you’re conforming to a stereotype because of our appearances,” Dylan replied breezily, sliding into the desk closest to the bookshelf against the wall as Kane flopped into the one next to it, both of them dropping their bags heavily next to them.

“Those were some big words for you, Dylan,” Danny quipped from behind Kane, who turned around in his seat to scowl at him. Danny just flashed an overly wide smile, batting his eyelashes. Danni, his partner, looked at him unimpressed from behind Dylan.

“Do you need me to dumb it down for you?” Dylan replied, smiling innocently back. 

“Boys,” Mr. Sanders called from the front of the classroom, tone sounding bored. “We do this testosterone competition every class and it never gets more entertaining, so, unless one of you has magically come up with some new material, shut up.”

Kane huffed, but turned back to look towards the front, Dylan following suit.

“Wonderful,” Mr. Sanders deadpanned, before pulling out the attendance clipboard. “Alright class, today we are going to do your favorite hot drink.”

Kane zoned out, only answering with a flat “coffee” when Mr. Sanders called his name. He liked Mr. Sanders, really. He was the youngest teacher in the school, having graduated much earlier than average people, and wasn’t much older than Kane himself. He and Dylan purposefully tried not to skip first period because of how much they liked him, actually. When there was a class you liked, it was smarter to go, that way you could get away with skipping others. That’s what they had learned freshman year, and they’d both been operating fine under that rule since.

Still, it was Lit. and Lang. Not exactly the most interesting class in the world. So, when Mr. Sanders opened with, “Alright, kiddies, today we are continuing with Dante’s Inferno,” Kane felt completely justified letting his head fall to the desk with a thud in disappointment.

“Mr. Barns is exceedingly excited about this news,” Mr. Sanders continued, amused, and Kane flipped him off without lifting his head up. “Oh, look, a bird. I wonder how that got in here.”

The class erupted into giggles, and Kane lifted his head up only to glare at his teacher, who just smiled cheekily back. Dylan patted him consolingly on the shoulder, and Kane glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It was pretty funny, dude,” Dylan explained unabashedly, shrugging. Kane grumbled nonsense to himself.

Mr. Sanders continued the lesson, discussing the latest chapter of Dante’s Inferno that Kane had spent three minutes skimming on SparkNotes. It was a pretty average English class, which meant Kane was staring aggressively at the clock the whole time, willing it to move faster. The only thing he really paid attention to was when, about halfway through, Mr. Sanders got a call on the school landline, which wasn’t very common. All he said, though, was “yes… okay… okay, thank you,” so it was only a little more interesting than the material.

Finally, after an eternity, the bell rang, and Kane swung his bag onto his shoulder as he stood up. Freedom was in sight.

“Kane, Dylan, stay back for a second, please.”

Freedom was lost, never to be attained.

The rest of the class filed out of the door, Kane watching wistfully, before he slowly slumped up to Mr. Sanders’ desk, Dylan a few steps behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked rudely. Mr. Sanders leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Kane swore internally.

“Dylan, what’s your next period?” he asked. Dylan didn’t reply for a second, probably trying to remember. He usually skipped the next period.

“Latin,” he answered slowly. “Shit, I have a test, I think.” 

Mr. Sanders just stared at him.

“Go to class and do me the favor of, at the very least, cramming before the test instead of just trying to bullshit the whole thing,” he finally said. Dylan smiled a bit as he nodded, and Kane had the lingering thought of ‘take me with you’ as he walked out the door.

Mr. Sanders turned to look at him, and he cringed.

“I know for a fact you have art next period, which you skip, even though you’re a good artist, so you aren’t getting out of this, Kane.” He gestured to the desk in front of his own desk, where the deaf girl usually sat. “Sit down.”

Kane sat, letting his bag drop again. He rested his head on his hand morosely.

“I got a call from Mrs. Meyer,” Mr. Sanders stated. “She said she caught you beating up another student while Dylan observed.”

“She’s so wrong, I would never-” Kane went to protest, but Mr. Sanders held up a hand and he stopped talking.

“Now, I don’t particularly like Mrs. Meyer,” he continued. “And I don’t believe you were kicking around a kid without any reason. So,” he leaned forward, “what was your reason?”

Kane contemplated sticking with the lie that he didn’t do anything, but the look Mr. Sanders was giving him was screaming ‘don’t fucking try me,’ so Kane just scoffed.

“He was being a dick.” He crossed his arms to match Mr. Sanders, hunching in on himself. “He was starting something he couldn’t finish, and I told him that, but he didn’t listen. So I finished it. Simple.”

“Right,” Mr. Sanders agreed amicably. “Simple.”

Kane nodded stiffly, and Mr. Sanders sighed. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.

“Look, Kane.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re a smart kid. When you apply yourself, you do well in this class. You’re a great artist, and if you actually attended those classes, you would be even better. I want to help you be a better student, and with anything you need help with.”

Kane had been shrinking into himself during Mr. Sanders' whole speech. In his entire life, he had never had someone reply to one of his fuck ups with compliments. ‘I want to help you’ was pretty common, but never with the sincerity that Mr. Sanders was giving him now. It all had a quality that made Kane feel worse, like he had a wad of chewing gum lodged in his stomach.

“What you’re doing right now,” Mr. Sanders continued, shaking his head, “isn’t working. You aren’t doing well in your other classes, are getting marks on your records, and beating kids up? That’s assault, if they want it to be.”

“I know all that,” Kane replied quietly. 

“I know you do,” Mr. Sanders replied even faster, speaking calmly. “What I don’t think you know, or what you don’t understand, is that there are consequences to your actions. This stuff you’ve been getting away with for who knows how long? You’re going to stop getting away with it, and when that happens, it isn’t going to end well. This shit you’re messing around with, it has real world consequences.”

“I don’t care,” Kane bit out sharply, meeting Mr. Sanders’ gaze. His teacher raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t care?” he repeated.

“I don’t care.” Kane shifted in his seat, tightening his still crossed arms. Mr. Sanders nodded slowly, and leaned back again, spinning slightly in his fancier chair.

“Alright,” he said after a second. “You don’t care.” He gestured to the door. “You’re free to leave, then.”

Kane narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glancing between Mr. Sanders and the door. After a full minute, he decided it wasn’t a trick, and he slowly stood up, swinging his backpack onto his back. When Mr. Sanders just watched him, he gained more confidence, striding over to the door. He was halfway through the doorway before he was stopped.

“Mr. Barns,” Mr. Sanders' voice called from behind him, mention tone here. Kane didn’t turn around. “Think about what I said. Even though you don’t care.”

Kane paused for a second, but that was the end of it, so he walked out the door and into the empty hallway. 

He ignored the gum in his stomach when he turned in the opposite direction of his art class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian Xander was the biggest kid at Westburrow High School.

He was a senior, so the grade above Kane. He’d been held back three years running, and the rumor was he was shooting for a fourth, which also made him the oldest kid in the school, by a long shot. He was muscled, with tattoos stretching over his skin and studs on his clothes. He smoked outside instead of attending class, he and his revolving door of friends claiming the best spot to smoke, under the bleachers. This meant Kane, Dylan and the rest of their friends were banished to the cut-out in the back of the school, where the dumpsters were.

But Xander (not Brian. Some people said that not even his parents called him by his first name) and his gang were suspended a few days ago, which meant that, considering Kane and his friends were the next in line, they had taken the luxury of the bleachers during the last period of the day.

Which was good, because it was an uncharacteristically hot April day, the kind that teased the summer that was approaching, and the dumpsters would have smelled horrible in the thick, warm air. 

Instead of suffering, though, they were in the blessed shade of the bleachers, a paradise in comparison.

“This is nice,” Dylan said next to him where they were both leaning against the wall. Smoke filtered out of his mouth when he talked, wafting upwards gracefully. Kane nodded his agreement, removing the cigarette from his lips and breathing out through his nose, tendrils of his own smoke floating to join Dylan’s. Mr. Sander’s warning was long pushed into the back of his mind, something he had committed to ignoring. All in all, it was pretty nice.

Of course, that was when things went wrong.

“Yo, freaks,” a voice called out, and Kane furrowed his eyebrows, turning towards the voice curiously. There weren’t a lot of people who would be confident enough to antagonize their little group.

Unfortunately, one of the only people that was exempt to that statement was indeed standing at the mouth of the bleachers, looking pissed.

Kane tried not to obviously scramble to his feet in front of Brian Xander, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Next to him, Dylan stayed sitting, watching with a hesitant expression.

Kane should have said something like, “Do you want to join us?” Or maybe, “What’s up?” Or a simple, “Yo.”

Instead what came out was, “I thought you were suspended.”

Kane cringed, because that was definitely not the right thing to say. Xander seemed to agree, because he sneered.

“So, what, I’m gone and you fuckers think you can just waltz in and take our spot?” He glared at Kane, who looked at Dylan for help. He just parroted Kane’s own wide-eyed stare back at him.

“We weren’t trying to-”

“You know what?” Xander asked mockingly, stepping forward. “I really don’t care.”

Kane ducked as Xander’s fist sailed over his head, breathing in so quickly he choked on the air, causing him to stumble away from Xander, coughing and sputtering. The bigger man didn’t care, and it didn’t take long for him to go after Kane.

His other friends, the absolute dicks, ran as soon as it was clear this was going to be a real fight. Dylan, the only one that Kane actually trusted, caught his eye, turned around, and started running. Kane didn’t have time to think about that before he was being pushed back against a wall, his head hitting it painfully, causing sparks to dance around his vision. It cleared just in time for him to dive out of the way of a punch that would have broken his nose, instead causing Xander to slam his knuckles into the brick and swear loudly. 

“I’m gonna kill you for that,” he growled, shaking his hand out and wincing. Kane just stood up. 

He knew how to fight. He knew how to fight, he’d been doing it since he was thirteen. This was just another jerk, one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. There was nothing different.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He wasn’t sure if he believed his own lies, but they tasted sweet in his mouth, so when Xander came at him again, he faked a hit to the other boy’s face and instead punched his gut, kicking the side of his knee when he paused to grunt and regain his breath.

Kane backed up quickly, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Xander stood up straight, and caught Kane off guard by just charging him instead of making some comment. 

That was what decided the tone of what was about to happen. Kane got some good hits in, enough to know Xander would be feeling like shit for the next few weeks, but for every hit Kane landed, Xander landed three. Kane was wiping blood from his nose and wheezing when he breathed, scrambling away from the looming figure that was backing him against a wall, when Dylan showed up, three security guards, a teacher, and the principal in tow.

“Mister Xander!” the principal yelled, causing Xander to pause, looking at their new audience and sighing aggressively at what he saw.

He looked back at Kane consideringly, trying to figure out if he could land a few more in, but two of the security guards came up behind him, one clapping him on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, kid,” he said. “Police are on their way, and it wouldn’t do much.”

“Besides,” the other one added, looking down at Kane, “he’s getting the same wrap as you. I mean, you are trespassing on school property, technically, but he’s not coming off clean, if that makes you feel any better.”

Xander smirked down at him, as if Kane’s stomach hadn’t just dropped straight out of him, then turned in the guards hold to walk back over to the group, letting the third guard handcuff him.

The first guard came up to him and offered a hand up, which he took, grunting when the action of standing up caused his ribs to scream in protest.

“Come on, kid,” the guard said, leading him out to everyone else. Police cars were pulling into the parking lot. Dylan gave him an apologetic look, which he nodded at in acknowledgement. It was the best thing he could have done, and Kane recognized that. The guard pressed something metal against his wrist, which Kane realized were handcuffs. He swallowed.

“Here to pick up some delinquents?” a police officer called from the front seat of his car. The guard led Kane over, opening the door and sliding him in. Kane watched numbly as the guard leant down to peer at him from outside the car.

“Have a fun ride,” he said. Kane just breathed in heavily.

The car door slamming startled him enough that he hit his head on the roof of the car. The officer in the front seat just chuckled lightly and started to drive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kane was in a holding cell.

He was sitting on the bench, hunched over, with his elbows resting on his legs and his head in his hands. The position was hell on his ribs, but he was tired, and that was the way he felt most comfortable, so that was the way he sat.

They had given him a few bandages and bruise cream, as well as checked him over for a concussion (he didn’t have one, just a lump on the back of his head), so nothing was as bad as it was when he first got to the station. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel a bit like a giant bruise, though.

The officers had told him that they were keeping him until someone came to get him and had paid what needed to be paid. Which, normally, meant for a few hours.

Unfortunately, Kane was not normal, which meant that his mom was out of state for work and he had no other family. And also, even if his mom was fifteen minutes away, he wasn’t totally sure they could afford bail anyway. For all he knew, this cell would only be the first. Kane blinked back tears, not for the first time since he had arrived at the station. What had he been thinking?

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to mess around a little, pass his classes with Cs and Ds and work right out of high school.

Instead, he was sitting hunched over in a holding cell for the foreseeable future. He dimly wondered if they’d give him a pillow for the next few nights.

He sighed, and immediately regretted the action when his body berated him for it.

A door opened, a few heavy footsteps entering the room around the cell. Kane didn’t look up. Just officers passing through.

At least, that’s what he thought until a familiar voice was telling someone to “let me inside.”

Kane’s head snapped up to watch Mr. Sanders raise a patronizingly calm eyebrow at the sputtering police officer.

“We can’t do that, sir,” the officer said, crossing his arms almost self-consciously.

“He’s a seventeen year old child,” Mr. Sanders replied drily. “I think I’ll be safe. I promise I’ll scream if he’s about to murder me, though,” he tacked on, sarcasm thick in his tone. The officer sputtered again, but unlocked the holding cell door like he said, allowing Mr. Sanders to stride into the cell confidently. The door closed behind him.

He came over to sit next to Kane, who had been watching him with a look he was sure was entirely surprise and shock.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked when it became clear Mr. Sanders wasn’t going to start the conversation, having just leaned against the wall behind them casually. 

It was then that Kane noticed his attire. He choked on his own spit.

Mr. Sanders (his teacher!) was dressed like a drugstore emo, complete with ripped black skinny jeans and platform Docs that must have been an inch thick at least, and a purple band shirt that was almost completely obscured by the leather bomber jacket that hung loose of his frame. His hair was still the same, a purple-black ombre that fell into his eyes, but not enough to obscure the fact that he was wearing eyeliner.

Mr. Sanders watched in amusement as Kane tried to recover his breathing, only frowning when Kane winced at the spasm of his chest that caused his ribs to twinge painfully.

“Are your ribs injured?” he asked.

“What are you wearing?” Kane asked in reply, not even purposefully sidestepping the question, just overwhelmed by the level of flabbergasted-ness he was experiencing. Mr. Sanders’ lips twitched upwards.

“I do have a life outside of being a teacher, Kane,” he reminded him, crossing his legs with an indifferent air.

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize that involved… whatever this is!” he exclaimed, gesturing broadly.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was being insulted,” Mr. Sanders said, and Kane backtracked.

“No, no, I mean- I didn’t-”

“Relax, Kane,” Mr. Sanders put his hands up in a calming gesture. “I was joking. I know you aren’t insulting me.”

Kane nodded, then furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again.

“I’m here for you,” Mr. Sanders answered easily, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. “Dylan emailed me about what happened, and I called your mom, who won’t be back in town for a few days. She gave me full permission to pick you up and drop you off at your house, or my apartment if you want to stay with me.”

Kane stared at him as if he was speaking another language. 

“What?”

Mr. Sanders smiled slightly.

“I’m here to pick you up, and either bring you back to your house or mine, whichever you prefer,” he simplified. Kane still didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand.” 

Mr. Sanders sighed through his nose, and Kane immediately felt like he had done something wrong.

“Kane,” Mr. Sanders started softly, “you very obviously didn’t listen to my warning. Why was that?”

Kane shrunk in on himself a bit, ignoring the way it made his ribs throb. He didn’t say anything.

“Okay, you don’t have to answer.” Mr. Sanders was quiet for a moment. Kane glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He was leaning against the wall with his legs crossed still, his eyes closed, looking like he could be taking a quick rest in the park, or maybe napping in a café. The dreary interior of the holding cell didn’t match the picture.

“My dad died when I was eleven,” Mr. Sanders finally said. Kane startled, hissing a breath out through his teeth in pain, but Mr. Sanders didn’t react. He just kept talking. “He was my best friend, and then one day he was just gone. It was really hard for us, especially since my mom was pregnant with my little brother. I worked as hard as I could to take care of them, and the way I did that was by going as fast as possible. I graduated as soon as I could, sped through college, and took the first job I could.” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but being a teacher was never my grand plan. My dad had those.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “I was going to cure cancer, or feed millions of hungry kids, or be the first person on Mars. He liked to believe that because I was smarter than anyone my age, I could do anything. Despite the fact that I haven’t done any of that stuff, I think he’d be proud of me. I hope he is,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Mr. Sanders opened his eyes, and turned his head slightly to look at Kane, making eye contact. Kane didn’t know if he could look away. He didn’t know if he wanted to.

“Your dad wasn’t like that, was he.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and suddenly Kane, despite being bigger than almost any other person in the Junior class, despite being seventeen and roughed up after a fight, suddenly felt very small.

Still, he managed to shake his head.

“I’m sorry he was the way he was,” Mr. Sanders said. “I know that hurt you. I understand what it’s like, to have so many feelings and not know what to do with them. I put them into work, to the point that it was unhealthy. You put them into…” he trailed off, not breaking eye contact. Kane was filling in the blanks without even realizing he had started talking.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything that he would hate. Anything that made me seem cool, that made sure people wouldn’t pick on me.”

“Pick on you like he did,” Mr. Sanders elaborated, and Kane felt himself nodding. Mr. Sander’s eyes were green. He’d never noticed that before. “Your mom’s worried about you.”

That was what finally let Kane break away from the eye contact, the statement causing his head to duck ashamedly, almost involuntarily.

“I know,” he muttered. He didn’t mean to worry her, but he just couldn’t help it. He almost didn’t know how to do anything other than smoke and skip and fight, even though he knew she hated it.

“I told her you didn’t mean to,” Mr. Sanders said, and Kane was starting to wonder if he was psychic or something. He told him as much, which made Mr. Sanders laugh loudly. Kane felt himself smiling too, despite the fact that it pulled on the bruises on his cheek uncomfortably.

“It’s my special teacher powers.” Mr. Sanders winked, and Kane huffed out a laugh. Mr. Sanders smiled at him, then started to get up. Kane followed his lead. 

Mr. Sanders called for an officer to let them out, and soon Kane was being led by his Lit. and Lang. teacher to the front desk at the police station. On the way there, an officer handed him a bag of all his belongings, and he gratefully slipped his phone into his pocket, strapping his watch on as he walked.

“I’m picking up Kane Barns, “ he said smoothly, professionally. “His legal guardian, Bella Barns, should have called earlier giving permission.”

The receptionist nodded amicably, typing away on her computer.

“Yes, Ms. Barns called. Are you paying the bail or is she?” 

“I am,” Mr. Sanders answered, pulling his wallet out and handing over his credit card, as well as his license. The receptionist took both with another nod, both of them acting as if Kane wasn’t having a heart attack right next to them.

“Um, what,” Kane croaked out, feeling as if he was dreaming. Mr. Sanders just spared him a careful glance.

“I’ve already discussed it with your mother,” he said. “She was very thankful, and gave me full permission.”

“I can’t- you shouldn’t- but-” Kane stuttered, trying to find the right words to say ‘what the fuck is happening, I can’t let you do that, you’re so nice what’s wrong with you???’

“Kane,” Mr. Sanders interrupted, giving him a smile as the receptionist handed him back his card and license. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t be doing this if I couldn’t afford it, or if I didn’t want to.”

Kane opened his mouth with a rebuttal on his tongue, but Mr. Sanders just gave him a look, and before he knew it he was closing his mouth and following Mr. Sanders quietly out of the station and up to a plain black car parked close to the doors. Mr. Sanders unlocked it, then slid into the driver's side as Kane awkwardly dropped into the passenger seat.

Kane stared at the little black bat plushie hanging from the rearview mirror as Mr. Sanders pulled out of the parking lot, watching it swing back and forth.

“I’m assuming you know how to get to your house,” Mr. Sanders said after a moment, breaking the silence. Kane jumped a little before he comprehended the words, then nodded. 

“Turn left in two streets,” he replied quietly. That was how they passed the fifteen minute drive, in silence that was only broken by Kane’s muttered directions. Kane let his mind wander throughout the ride, keeping his gaze on the world outside. It was dark, the clock on the radio reading ‘8:45pm’ already. Kane sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to his empty house.

Eventually, Kane was telling Mr. Sanders to stop in front of a plain looking townhouse. It was on the smaller side, even for a townhouse, and it wasn’t as nice looking as the others around it, but not so much that it stood out as an outlier. 

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sanders,” Kane said truthfully, hoping Mr. Sanders would understand the hidden meaning behind the words. ‘Thank you for everything, thank you for not being disappointed in me, thank you for paying the bail, thank you for still caring.’

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Sanders replied with a smile. He glanced back at the townhouse. “Do you want to stay here tonight or stay at mine?”

Kane paused on his way to opening the door, turning back to his teacher in surprise. 

“What?”

“Your mom was worried about you staying home alone,” Mr. Sanders explained. “She gave permission for you to stay with me until she gets back in a few days. You can call her, if you’d like,” he added. 

Kane nodded slowly, pulling out his phone. He dialed her number.

She was worried about him, which he wasn’t surprised about. She seemed understanding, though, and confirmed everything that Mr. Sanders had told him. She encouraged him to stay with him while she was gone. 

“I don’t want you alone right now,” she said, concern evident in her voice. “I want you to stay with someone, and Virgil seems like he’s a very sweet man. I trust him with you.”

Kane glanced over at Mr. Sanders, who was on his phone, turned away from him. Obviously trying to give him the semblance of privacy.

“Okay,” Kane finally conceded quietly. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

“It will,” his mom replied quickly. “I’ll let you get settled there, but call me before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Kane said again. 

“I love you, honey,” his mom finished softly, and Kane muttered a quick ‘love you too’ in return. He hung up, and turned to Mr. Sanders.

“Guess I’m staying with you.” He tried to put as much levity into his voice as possible, and could here himself fail. Mr. Sanders didn’t comment, just gave him another smile. He pocketed his phone and gestured to Kane’s house.

“You can run in and pack a bag with clothes and toiletries, I’ll sit out here.”

Kane nodded, opening his door and stumbling out of the car. Before he was able to close it, though, Mr. Sanders called his name. Kane bent down so he could make eye contact.

“You do realize that this means you aren’t going to be allowed to do any of that shit anymore, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Kane nodded.

“I know,” he replied, because he did.

“Are you okay with that?” Mr. Sanders pressed. Kane paused, then dipped his chin in a slow nod.

“I am,” he said, realizing only after the words left his mouth that they were true. He really was fine with changing everything around.

“Good.” Mr. Sanders leaned back in his seat. “Don’t take too long, we’ve got a rave waiting for us back at my apartment.”

Kane let out a surprised laugh, barely even noticing the ache in his ribs. Mr. Sanders smiled at the sound. 

“Sounds exciting,” Kane quipped, smiling back happily. He slammed the door shut, and started up towards his house, grinning the whole way.

————

hopefully you liked it! honestly expect a lot more sneaky fanfictions that i wrote for creative writing in the future.

reblogs and notes are my life blood so i appreciate them all. i also have an ao3 (thepenguinclub) if that's your thing, i'd love to hang over there.

remember that you are loved, and appreciated, and if you've been online for a while maybe take a little break, yeah? i hope you have an amazing rest of your day!!! <33

previous part, next part, masterpost

#sanders sides fanfiction #ts virgil #original character #penguin writes

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 47

*Warning Adult Content*

Mind Made Up

Everett can do nothing but watch.

He watches in frustration and full-blown alarm as one of the policemen moves Knox's truck off to the side and away from the pump.

He then climbs back into the cruiser with his partner, Knox trapped like a wild animal in its steel embrace and they drive away.

The crowd disperses, the drama over and Everett makes a dash toward Knox's truck.

"They're gone."

He clenches the cell-phone in his hand, having given Gavin a play-by-play.

"But they left the key to the truck behind. What do you want me to do?"

"Alright, listen," Gavin replies, his voice steady.

"If they had a warrant to search it, they wouldn't have left the truck behind, so they probably took Knox in on some bullshit. It's all scare tactics. I'm texting the club lawyer as we speak."

"What kind of bullshit?" Everett asks before thinking.

By now, he should know better than to ask questions that won't be answered.

"Club business. I can't tell you, kid. I'm sorry," Gavin says.

"Do you want me to send Finn out to pick up the truck or are you comfortable driving it back? I'll make sure Mason scrubs the cameras out there. Your involvement won't be documented."

Everett takes a deep breath.

Driving the truck back is a risk but he feels a sense of responsibility to Knox.

"I can drive it back," he replies.

"I can do it."

"I'm sending Finn out anyway. Don't want you to be alone right now," Gavin assures him before ending the call.

Everett pockets his cell-phone and climbs into the driver's seat, the keys dangling from the ignition.

He closes his eyes and takes a moment to inhale deeply, the scent of Knox's cologne lingering in the air like a distant memory.

He starts the engine seconds later, both hands trembling as he grips the steering wheel and navigates the truck out of the gas station.

He tries to ignore the regret swirling in his stomach.

He's been acting like a total dick since their long-distance conversation.

His concerns are valid but had he known Knox would get snatched up by the police today, perhaps he would've handled his emotions a little better.

No matter, his nerves are officially shot now.

The tension in his body makes every bump and pothole on the road feel amplified.

He can't stop looking in the rear view mirror, thinking that he's being followed during the whole drive back to the clubhouse.

He doesn't truly calm down until he spots Finn on his motorcycle halfway into the drive.

They ride back together, Everett leading the way while Finn takes on the job of scanning the road for any of their enemies.

As they eventually pass through the gate of the clubhouse, Everett brings the truck to a stop and hops out, his legs feeling slightly unsteady.

He turns to Finn.

"Be real with me for five seconds," he says.

"Fuck club business. How much trouble is Knox really in?"

"Look, the pigs love fucking with us, kid."

Finn's expression is guarded, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"But we're careful in everything that we do, so there's really no need to worry..."

"Oh. My. God. Do I have to be initiated in or whatever the fuck for you people to just tell me a little bit of what's really going on here?" Everett snaps.

"Everett. Chill."

Finn places a hand on his shoulder and much to his surprise, Everett doesn't shrug it off.

"Without any hard evidence for... whatever it is that they think Knox did, the longest they can hold him is 48 hours. We just have to wait it out, man," his words amount to a whole lot of nothing but arguing with Finn isn't going to bring Knox back, so Everett has no choice but to drop it.

He nods, lips pressed into a tight line and he grabs the grocery bags from the backseat.

With Finn by his side, they head into the busy clubhouse.

Bear greets Everett in the kitchen.

The dog's presence is a brief distraction from his turbulent thoughts.

He kneels to accept the affectionate nuzzles and licks.

"I missed you too."

Burying his face in Bear's soft fur, Everett apologizes for his absence.

"You're probably wondering where your other Daddy is, aren't you?"

As if to answer his question, the dog whines in response.

But the moment is quickly ruined by the ping of his cell-phone, signaling a new text.

Everett pulls it out, his brow furrowing as he sees its from an unknown number.

His heart nearly stops as he reads the message: You have 24 hrs to deliver the USB. Come alone to the attached address. If you don't, there's gonna be more dead bodies.

Everett's stomach churns, bile rising in his throat.

Before he can shout for Gavin, two more pings signal the arrival of picture messages.

With trembling fingers, he opens the first image, eyes widening in horror as he sees his father's house.

The blinds are open on the living room windows, revealing his father eating in the kitchen alone, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby.

The next picture message is even more chilling.

The lifeless bodies of the two Fallen Angels members who were keeping guard at his parents' house stare back at him from the inside of someone's trunk, their eyes vacant and faces battered.

Everett's vision blurs, the room spinning around him as he rushes to the kitchen trash can and retches violently, his body shaking with each burning heave.

Bear whines beside him repeatedly and the chattering in the room stops abruptly.

He can feel all eyes on him as Finn walks over to place his hand on his lower back, his voice a low whisper when he speaks.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Stupid fucking question, isn't it?"

Everett straightens and wipes his mouth with the hem of his shirt, his mind racing with thoughts that don't feel right.

Without another word, he rushes out of the kitchen, Bear's loyal footsteps trailing behind him.

They head upstairs and enter Knox's bedroom, Everett shutting the door behind them.

His heart is heavy and throbbing as he paces the floor.

The thought of betraying The Fallen Angels, of stealing the USB drive after everything they've done for him, makes it feel like a million explosions are going off in his head.

In truth, however, the choice he needs to make is quite simple.

The Jackals are already at his house and will presumably stay until he hands over the USB.

Even if he tells Gavin about the threats, The Fallen Angels won't be able to reach his father in time.

The Jackals will definitely shoot to kill before anyone can sneak up for the rescue.

'Don't leave the clubhouse. Stay where you are, kitten. Let my brothers handle this. You trust us, right?' he can almost hear Knox's voice, firm and protective, telling him to stay put.

Too bad Knox isn't physically here right now.

The tables have turned drastically and it's up to Everett to take action, to make a move that may cost him everything... even his own life... for the sake of his father.

Even as his emotions threaten to overwhelm him, he knows exactly what he must do.

So he takes another look around the bedroom, committing every detail to memory before finding a notepad and pen to scribble down a short message for Knox.

His mind is made up.

Everett is going to steal back the USB.

[companionwolf]

Bad End #1

Summary: After being brought to the police station post investigating the crime scene of the death of Dr. Moulin, after the explosion set off in the adjacent holding cell by the other two J Cell members that were in the cave, Delta Green agents Jay and Jacob fail to escape.

TW/CWs: Character death

A/N: Not actually what happened in game by a long shot (*gestures at my very much alive and out of jail blorbos*) but I liked this enough to write it out as a sort of alternate ending thing. This one is more focused on Jacob; I might write a different bad end piece that's more about Jay later on, not sure yet. Also Jacob has OSDD (or something adjacent to it) for additional context.

The shots ring out louder than the cacophony of the officers around them.

Three to the back as Jay tries desperately to go for the door on the end of the hall. They fall hard to the concrete floor. They do not get up. They do not move.

Jacob wants to scream--

He can't.

He's frozen, far past fight or flight now; dropped into freeze and submit. The only evidence he's still even present and aware are the tears streaming down his face and the wails he cannot get out of his throat.

There's blood pooling beneath Jay now. The smell of it hangs in the air - metallic, fresh.

Jacob can't see much anymore through his crying and the blood that trickles down his face, from where one of the officers bashed something against it. Something in him is almost grateful. Almost, though. Only almost.

Because he can still see, past the officers around him. He can still see Jay's silent, bloodied, crumpled form on the ground.

They left me.

Another wail among all the ones he can't get out. They left me. Or they were going to. In the action of it. Confusion and -- is that anger? They rip through him like a electrical current, but fizzle out as quickly as they came, dampened by fear.

He wants Jordan, Jack, Joy, Jean. Whitney? The handler? Anyone. Someone. But no one is here.

No one except--

Jacob feels bile in his throat. He can't swallow.

Hs is 34 and 11 and 7 and 4 and everything at once and nothing at all. His insides are swirling, his brain can't pick any singular one of him, because he is not just him, never has been, so it tries to pick them all. This fails.

It throws just him back into the forward of his body. This fails too-- he's somewhere in between and somewhere beyond and it feels unreal. This feels unreal. Is he sure this is real? It hurts like it is but...

Jacob tries to focus. This fails as well.

It's all failing.

And it's all his fault.

If he had just been better, smarter, faster, this wouldn't be happening. Or at least maybe he'd have gotten away, or maybe they'd not have ended up at the station, or or or --

His vision darkens. He thinks he's trembling.

And then Jacob feels a hand outstretch to him, himself to himself. From somewhere inside someone calls.

It'll be alright, a voice says. You don't need to be here, Jacob. You don't need to be anywhere. Not right now.

Not anymore.

He strains through the black spots in his eyes, through the pain and blood and tears. One last look at Jay, guilt burning like the brusies--

Do you want to be there? When you die? A different voice. Meaner, colder. Do you want to be there, Ari Katz?

Jacob feels cold and slow and small, and he doesn't know that name. Am I going to die? Answering a question with a question-- typical of him.

Yes, you are. Despite its dark tone, the voice sounds about as scared as he is.

Yes, it repeats again, as if to reassure them both. Yes. Yes, you're going to die.

Jacob peels away from his body, tucks himself somewhere inside his skull amongst the stock still terrified others that reside there too. Away from this-- anywhere else now, anyone else now.

In the end, when it's over, he's already long gone.

#wolf barking #delta green #tailstrokes #ok i can post this now #'wolf i understand nothing' [shrug] #this is very much not what occurred in game but it does read kinda nice so #aliens & landsharks #runs on gay and horror

[college-girl199328]

As soon as she picked up the phone, Jane knew. Her grandson was on the other end, saying he'd been in a car accident and had been arrested. He sounded panicked.

The police found drugs in the car. Someone was seriously injured. He used his one phone call to contact the one person he knew would help him without judgment.

Jane — not her real name — was stunned but promised to help without telling his parents. The phone was handed over to a police officer, who gave her instructions on post-bail. Her unconditional love for her grandson cost her $58,350 by the end of the next day.

"I really believed it was him," she said. The Royal Newfoundland Constabulary says at least eight senior citizens lost $200,000 to similar scams over three days. Police say one man, 23-year-old Charles Gillen, came to St. John's from Toronto to collect the money in person.

Gillen was arrested on the tarmac at St. John's International Airport on the evening of March 2. He was on a flight leaving the province. If the goal was to get in and get out, the man police say responsible almost got away.

"That's about as close as you get," said Const. James Cadigan. "That's the goal of these sophisticated operations. It's a large sum of money, the short period."

CBC News has spoken to four of the eight victims listed in court documents but isn't naming them due to privacy and security concerns.

Each of them said their grandchild had called and had an accident. They said drugs found in the car pay for bail or legal fees. In all four cases, the imposter knew some personal details about the actual grandchildren — like where they live and work and the names of other family members.

All four believed it was their grandchild's voice on the phone. "I swear on my mom's grave," said one man we're calling John. "It was so convincing. I know my granddaughter's voice, and it was her."

The imposter put him over to a man who said he was a lawyer and needed money for a retainer and a fine. The next day, a man came to John's home and collected an envelope of cash. John lost $24,200.

Cadigan said the RNC has recovered some money, but they suspect Gillen packages before attempting to leave the province. There have been reports of similar scams across Canada, with police believing a criminal network is responsible for targeting seniors from coast to coast.

But how are the actual voices of Memorial University associate professor and computer security expert Jonathan Anderson? "You can clone someone's voice, and given the ability to do that, it's not surprising that somebody would do that for nefarious purposes," Anderson said. "It's going to be more effective, especially while people get used to the fact that deep fake voices are a thing, and they are easily obtainable and easily accessible."

Anderson compared it to photo-altering technology. "It's a little bit like Adobe produces Photoshop, and Photoshop can be used for purposes. And some are purposes we would be happy about."

Gillen remains in custody after a bail hearing on Wednesday. He's facing 30 charges of fraud, extortion, and conspiracy to commit an offense.

Police in Newfoundland and Labrador have formed a case management team and are working within other provinces to the full extent of the scam. Similar cases have been reported across the country, with police in Windsor, Ont., arresting a 19-year-old and a 22-year-old for very similar offenses the day before Gillen's arrest in St. John's.

Anderson has a tip for anyone who might fall victim to the scam: "Always try to put yourself back in the driver's seat," he said they say they're calling from a police station, ask which one so you can hang up and call back.

John said he realized that lesson when it was too late. He called his granddaughter's cell phone, and she picked up. She was in school, not in a holding cell.

He's devastated. "She was in trouble and needed my help," he said. "She said, 'Poppy, please don't tell Mom and Dad.' I would do anything to keep her name clean."

Jane also said the scam pulled at her heartstrings emotion clouded her judgment. "You'd do anything for your grandchildren," she said. "And they took advantage of that."

[wjforever]

Shatter me again. Chapter 69

Home.

Home…

What does he mean?

It sounds too unrealistic, too wonderful.

I want to ask him, I part my lips to ask the question, but I see such a sneaky smile on his face that I don't say a word. It's a surprise. I'm embarrassed and excited and anxious and eager. And I'm also a little scared of the unknown. It beckons, but at the same time it's disturbing.

All the changes in my life weren't walk in the park: I used to end up in hospitals, police stations, asylum, captivity. And the chance to finally get the desired peace seems incredible. But Adam is always with me now. He makes unreal things real.

With every step I take, I get further and further away from Warner. From the necessity to be a toy in someone's hands, from a predestination, from a framework. I'm free. Absolutely. No one and nothing holds me back anymore and I want to swim in this freedom, drink it, scooping it up in large portions. I want to choke and drown. With Adam by my side. Because for the first time in my life, I do what I want, and not what is required or expected of me. Hope, love, opportunity. I feel all this because I want to know what it's like to live independently of others. Adam gives me this absolute liberty.

I can feel the wings behind my back again. Adam cut them off once, with one sloppy word. But now he's given them back to me, even bigger, even stronger than before.

I know that everything will be fine now. Only good things are waiting for us. Something is bound to happen, and my life will change for the better, now I believe in it. We already do things over and over again that I didn't believe was possible.

We're going to some abandoned shed on the outskirts of this wild field. Its wooden walls are difficult to see because of the  rogue dry vegetation and crazed bushlike tentacles, scratchy and hideous that tightly clung to it from all sides. There's something familiar to me about these tentacles, suffocating, and I think maybe they're poisonous. I need to be careful not to touch them.

I wonder if this is the home? It doesn't look attractive from the outside, but that doesn't matter. If this is our chance to hide, I won't mind. I lived in a cell for eight months. I can handle anything now.

We step into the dark space, the strong smell of humidity and mold hits my nose. I squint, hoping to see at least something and suddenly I notice an outline.

A car.

I blink.

An armored car. One of those that was at the HQ. At Warner's.

Adam turns to me, seemingly waiting for a reaction. The rays of the setting sun make their way through the chinks of the shed, allowing my eyes, that are getting used to the darkness, to see his expression. He's almost can't control his own eagerness. And I can see that he is pleased with my astonishment. It's so nice to know that a person can enjoy something like this. Rejoice in my reaction.

When Adam begins to speak, his voice is animated, excited.

"I told Warner that the electronic parts had failed due to electromagnetic radiation. It really was. The next time I came here in a car that runs on gasoline. I managed to pull this baby away from the active zone. Due to the fact that I periodically worked in the mechanical compartment, I managed to get new parts and install them on the car. They're still messing up, but the car is in working order, and the further it goes from this place, the better it functions."

"But didn't Warner want to return the car and fix it at the HQ?"

"My visits here were unofficial. Warner didn't want his father to find out about it, so I got here in his private car, unregistered in official documents. I think he was afraid that the more people knew about its existence, the more likely it would become known to his father. You've already seen yourself, the guy is a real paranoid."

"Yeah, that's true." I breathe out.

"Anyway, several times I had to get to the place on foot before he got another car that was able to work in this area."

"But couldn't someone else have come up, seen the car here and realize that it's still functional?"

"No, it's impossible. Both civilians and soldiers are are prohibited from being in the former residential areas under threat of death. From time to time they send a punitive squad to make sure that no one has found shelter here. But the soldiers are afraid of radiation, although no one really knows how it affects a person. We have already made sure that it's safe for people, but the army, as well as civilians, doesn't know about it. It's beneficial that everyone afraid. Fear reduces the number of attempts to get into this zone."

"But what about you? Weren't you afraid when you didn't know it was safe?"

"I followed orders. And Warner liked it that I was willing to die for my duty. Maybe that's one of the reasons why he entrusted you to me."

"He never thought you'd step out of line." I mutter, understandingly.

Adam nods. "Exactly. I managed to earn his trust. And after what happened with the tracking serum, he had no reason to doubt my story about the car." 

"But what if he decided to check? He might have wanted to take his car and then he would have found out that you lied to him."

"I've discharged the electrical unit. And then I hid the battery so that it could be charged at any time. I could always say that it happens periodically, and I don't really know what's going on exactly and when. The electronics are working really bad in this area, so he could have seen for himself and he wouldn't have had any questions." He nods at the car. "I always knew it might come in handy one day. It's always good to have extra possible alternatives."

Now I clearly understand that Adam was carefully planning all this. And for a very long time. He was always ready to run away, to escape. He prepared answers to all possible questions and suspicions. It's not just me. It's not about me at all. He wanted to do it before. Just like he told me on our first trip. It's true that he was really just waiting for the right moment. I don't know why, but it makes me a little sad.

"Come here," Adam says to me in a soft voice and holds out his hands to me. He deftly helps me get into the car. My dress is more like tattered rags, and Adam's hands touch my bare legs. I sit down and turn to look at him. We're not in a hurry right now, and he looks back at me. His eyes are full of emotion, and I pretend not to notice it.

He moves closer to me, touches my thighs and everything inside me shrinks with excitement. 

"I need to take care of your legs." His voice is hoarse, low, deep.

I don't understand what he means, but I don't really care. I'm only looking at his hands touching my skin. For some reason, every time it feels like the first time. I should be getting used to his touch by now. There, on that bed, we were much closer to each other. But now I'm feeling as if none of this happened, and he touches me for the first time. And I cringe inwardly, because this is an instinct that has been developed over the years. It's impossible to get rid of it in an instant.

"It's not that bad." The tips of his fingers running across my calves and I can't breathe. I see Adam licking his lips. "But we'll have to clean the cuts up, just in case. Sometimes it’s safer being cut by a butcher knife than being scratched by a random scrap of metal. You don't want it to get infected."

His hand moves to my knee, lifts his eyes and looks at me.

It seems to me that I'm shivering not only from the cold. And I hope Adam doesn't figure out anything. I don't want him to think I'm avoiding him. I nod so he doesn't think I'm not listening to him. But there's so noisy in my head that it's hard for me to catch the meaning of his words. "Yeah, sure." I whisper to him.

I expect him to smile, but he's looking at me intensely, takes a deep breath and then shakes his head, as if trying to wipe out some thought.

"We need to go. The more time we buy, the better. It's only in our best interest to get as far away from here as possible."

With that Adam turns around and jumps into the driver's side. There's no key, just a button. He presses it and the car roars to life resonating with my own breathing.

We drive out of the shed as the sun sinks below the horizon. 

"But once we leave this place, won't the tracker start back up again?" I ask anxiously.

"No. Warner had to renew the serum every time I got back from here. I'm not on his leash anymore."

"But they will chase after us, right? He… could he have declared some new level of danger?"

Adam doesn't look at me.

"He doesn't need to do that."

"Why?"

"The alarm is turned on automatically, the system works autonomously from him and perfectly properly. As soon as the soldiers violate the permissible radius of location or someone violates the security of the headquarters, one of the standard procedures is launched. So Warner didn't have to call for backup or assess the situation. Our escape is too minor an incident for that. Their world is a captivity, in which everything is set up so that their slaves are under strict control."

"Oh… Adam… where are we going?" I finally ask the question that interests me especially strongly.

"My house."

I don't know how to react to this because he doesn't explain anything and I'm lost in guesses.

"Your house?"

Adam doesn't answer right away. He presses some buttons, stares intently at the road ahead, then smirks. It reminds me so much of our first trip again. That's just the mood is now the opposite.

"Something like that. You'll see everything soon."

I'm silent for a few seconds before I decide to continue the interrogation.

"And your parents…?" My voice is an indecisive whisper. Because this topic is painful for me. And I remember that his childhood was also harsh. I'm sure his father was cruel to him. And I don't know where this person is now.

"Dead. For a very long time." He answers a little too quickly, a little too sharply.

It seems to me that his face is getting gloomy, darker, and I'm afraid I've brought up the topic that shouldn't have been brought up.

"Oh…" I exhale and remain silent.

I have a heap of questions. I wonder why he wanted to run away, how long he had been planning all this, and how he ever got into the army if he talks so contemptuously about it. I'm also curious why their cars are now electric, not gas. Is it because they are quieter, or because there is an acute shortage of raw materials in the world. And I want to know more about his parents, what happened to them, how long has he been alone. I want to know more about his house, what it is, where it is and how he managed to keep this place. I have so many questions, but I don't ask any of them.

Adam doesn't seem in the mood to talk. He's absorbed in his thoughts. I think he was upset by my question about his parents. But even without that, I feel that he likes to save the intrigue, wants to keep the surprise, and I don't dare to interfere in his plans. He's wanted to run away for a long time, and I'm just a guest. I should be glad that I was given such a chance at all. And I'm extremely grateful to him for everything he does. I don't like to talk myself. I'll see and knew everything very soon. In the meantime, I like to mentally give the supposed answers to my own questions.

I don't need to bombard Adam with questions. I don't want to annoy him or tire him out. Communication with me has always been a difficult ordeal for people. So I just press my cheek against the cold glass and enthusiastically watch the nature outside, illuminated by the dying sun.

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[100yearoldcomics]

May 21, 1922 The Katzenjammer Kids by Harold Knerr

TOP PANEL [ID: Der Captain and his four sailor friends sit grumpily staring out of individual cell windows in the wall of a stone prison. On the barrier wall outside, a guard walks with a shouldered bayonet. /end] Captain: Dod-gast... Sailor #1: ...the... Sailor #2: ...bloomin'... Sailor #3: ...blinkin'... John Silver: ...luck!

MAIN COMIC [ID: Der Captain walks happily into the Seaman's Rest, the bar where his sailor friends are still sitting at the same table. /end] Captain: Vell, mates, I'm ge-finished mit dot Katzenjammer bunch forefer! Sailor #1: Hip! Sailor #2: Hip! Sailor #3: Hippopotamus! Silver: Them's grand words, Cap!

[ID: John Silver sits at the table opposite the captain and whispers to him like he's letting him in on a big secret. The three young sailors stand behind him, impishly shushing each other. The Kids stand in an open window behind them, listening in. /end] Sailor #1: Sh! Sailor #2: Sh! Sailor #3: Sh! Silver: Bohunkus won't give the chart to no one but you, 'coz he wants $100! He's disguised as a lady! You say, "Kabootch," he says, "Kabim." Them's the words! [INFLATION GUIDE: In 2022 dollars, the treasure map is worth about $1740. /end]

[ID: Der Captain sneaks up to a veiled woman on the sidewalk, impishly tiptoeing while he points at his winking left eye. The woman holds a leather gladstone bag and takes the hundred-dollar bill from der Captain. /end] Captain: Kabootch! Veiled Lady: Kabim! Here iss der chart in der bag!

[ID: Der Captain walks off with the bag while the veiled lady turns to greet yet another veiled lady coming up the street from the other direction, carrying a bag. /end] Veiled Lady: Kabootch! Bohunkus: Kabim! Hans [peeking out from over the skirt]: Chiminetty! Hear iss der real guy! Captain: Now for der ship, und yo-ho! For a million bucks!

[ID: The Kids, in their veiled lady costume, take Bohunkus by the arm and walk down the street with him, following behind der Captain. /end] Fritz: Ve ain't a real lady! Ve iss Bill Bones, der pirate! Come along mit und a fat duffer gifs you der money! Bohunkus: I gotta see the coin!

[ID: Der Captain returns to the Seaman's Rest, happily placing the bag on the table where John Silver and his shipmates sit. /end] Captain: Boys, here iss der treasure chart! Der woild iss us'ns! Sailor #1: Oh! Sailor #2: By... Sailor #3: ...gosh! Silver: Seein's believen'!

[ID: Der Captain opens the bag and Rosie the bulldog pops out angrily. Der Captain slaps his forehead, throwing his hat off his head in surprise. The other sailors stand there, shocked. /end] Captain: Dod-gast! It iss ker-flummoxed! Silver: Hashed again!

[ID: The men knock the model ship and candle stuck in a wine bottle off the mantle above the fireplace in the bar and all sit upon it, too high for the puppy to reach. /end] Captain: VELL? VOT ABOUT IT?

[ID: The Kids walk in with Bohunkus in arm. Rosie turns curiously to meet them. /end] Fritz: Rosie, vill you chust see if diss boy got a vooden leg? Captain: Vot's der dum-goozled now? Hans: Sic 'im, Rosie!

[ID: Rosie clamps her jaws down on Bohunkus' leg, spinning him upside down as the Kids gingerly walk off. /end] Fritz: Aw rewar! Chust hold 'em ten minutes, Rosie! Bohunkus: Ouch!

[ID: The Kids go to a nearby police station, no longer standing on one another's shoulders. The bailiff leans over his front desk excitedly as a cop beside him hands the boys a five-dollar bill. /end] Hans: Ve got a bunch uf pirates in der Seaman's Rest! Fritz: Der fat geezer mit der foolish vitskers iss innocent! He iss only looney! Bailiff: Gee! We want that crowd! Cop: Here's $5.00 reward, boys! [INFLATION GUIDE: The Kids' reward from the cops is the equivalent of $87 today. /end]

[ID: The Kids happily sit at a fancy restaurant. Fritz sits with his legs crossed, casually giving his order to the waiter. Hans points at him, taken aback. Rosie sits between them. /end] Fritz: Vaiter, bring us $100 vorth uf pie, ice-cream, pastry und candy! Hans: Say! Make dot $105 woith! Iss you holding out dot last $5?

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #the katzenjammer kids #harold knerr #transcript available #1920s #pirates