#I have to go to the goddamn sheriff's office to beg them for a fucking copy of the report that NO ONE CAN FIND

[kittlyns]

Yet another day of getting home from work @ 9pm (we usually close at 6... haha) with the fun little bonus of getting a text from my insurance adjuster telling me that while they do not consider me at fault for the accident, the other two insurance companies do, so I have to contact them with my "evidence" to plead my case. Also no one knows where the fucking police report is.

Yippee!! 👍

#I have to go to the goddamn sheriff's office to beg them for a fucking copy of the report that NO ONE CAN FIND #and send that to all 3 insurance companies........ call the other two insurance companies and... idk. tell them to kill themselves or smth #we're at the point where I'm like. should I just get a lawyer. would it be worth it to hire a lawyer. could a lawyer handle half this for me #cuz it seems like my adjuster is washing her hands of the situation #I'm so goddamn tired haha. like I could cry and it's not really about this situation. I'm just so tired and it never seems to end #I spend 5 hours with a single client. everything hurts. I skip 2 meals bc I don't have time to eat and by the time I get home I don't care #I lie down and the whole day sits on top of my chest and I have to just close my eyes and let sleep take me #and then I wake up and have to do it all again. #the exhaustion is in my bones and nobody can help me

[cosmiccandydreamer]

Stability Chapter 6

Otis Driftwood x Reader

( I don't own these gifs)

Phones were ringing off the hook at the sheriff department. News of the house of horror being overthrown was the talk of the town. Mama was being held in custody while the rest of the Sherrifs station brainstormed a plan to capture the rest of the family. Little did they know that meant you too. Otis tried hard to keep you away from any kind of evidence linking you to the family. One of the many reasons he didn't take you to the court house when you got married was so you wouldn't be legally tied to them.Sheriff Wydell threw his pen onto his desk. He rubbed his eyes, tired and annoyed he looked to his deputy.

"All right, Dobson. It's about time we came here to do what the good lord says in the good book as "a cleansing of the wicked".

"Sir, you think we're gonna die here today?" Ray Dobson's voice shaken with fear looking toward the Firefly house

Sheriff John Wydell scoffed looking toward him "Dying's not an option. Now, you stick that back in that gray matter of yours and you make that stick. 'Cause any other thought is gonna get you cold slabbed, toe tagged, and mailed home to your mamma in a plastic bag. Are we crystal?"

Officer Ray Dobson looked at him taking a deep breath "Crystal, Sir."

Sheriff Wydell adjusted his hat,"Gentlemen, let's do what God made us to do".

"I'm sorry what did you say Ray? I didn't hear a goddamn thing you said I'm so fucking tired ask that new kid what's his name to grab me a cup of joe woulda ya?". "Um I was saying sir we aren't getting much information out of the mother, she's just spouting nonsense and well very vulgar things. Did you wanna try again in the morning or?"" Naw... naw I'll go have a chat with er' see what I can get out of it you know there's a way to talk to these backward sideways hillbillies". Wydell stood up putting his hat on the table and passed Ray " don't forget about my coffee".

"Well well well if it isn't the matriarch in the flesh" Wydell said loudly walking into the cell. Mama looked up at him, a sly smile creeping across her face. " Evening Sheriff".. Wydell grabbed a chair sitting across from her " well you are something

I'll bet them old farm boys love you."

"Everyone loves me. Don't you pretend you don't fancy me." Mama firefly said sitting up in her chair. "Oh why, yes Ma'am. I find you quite irresistible." He stood up and walked over to her setting a small scrapbook in front of her. " Now would you be ever so kind to tell me what you know about this?" He lightly tapped the book a few times encouraging her to reach for it. She eventually did gingerly reach for the book. opening the pages she scanned through and ran your finger over the faces of her family.

She stopped at a picture of Baby in particular, She recalled her as a child "she was such an angel my little angel baby". " Oh yes, yes she is now … can you tell me about this girl?" Wydell stood above her nas pointed to a picture of Baby and you from high school. " Oh that was her little friend back in the day, nice girl didn't stick around though I think she had kin out of state." Mama replied not looking at Wydell but fondly at the pictures. " So let's make this easier on everyone Mama and tell me where Otis, your angel Baby and this cute lil thing right here went". He tapped the picture again. "I don't know where my angel and Otis went and I already told you this girl ain't been around since Baby was a child". " Yeah I know you said that but…" Wydell takes the book back and flips to another section of the book, with pictures of you and Otis this time. It was you sitting on the hood of your car with his arms around your waist, this was taken last summer, your shorts riding dangerously high as he stood between your legs. He was smiling at you and you had your head thrown back in a laugh.

"You've been watching my house ?!" Mama angrily asked looking up from the book and at Wydell. " You've been spying on my family?!". " you do know her…" he turns and walks slowly around the room. "Now I think it's time we start being honest with each other any information that you know will be helpful and I promise not to take it out too hard on them but if you don't help me so help me God.." " I'm not telling you shit" mama snapped at him. He walked closer to her about to say something else when she spit in his face. "I ain't scared of you". Suddenly Wydell grabs her and pushes her up against the wall. "You listen to me, and you listen well! I am gonna kill every member of your family! I'm gonna hunt them down like the animals they are, and I'm gonna skin em' alive! They are going to feel the pain and suffering of every last victim! I am done playing with you and your fucked up family. You killed my brother, you killed those innocent cheerleaders and You've killed more people than we can count. I can only imagine the bodies that lay under your home there must be a thousand. You've been a plague on this town no longer".

Mama didn't flinch, she smiled at him. " Oh you think this is funny? It's not going to be funny when I catch up with your merry band of freaks. They're gonna crawl on their hands and knees, and they're gonna beg me for mercy! But all I'm gonna have for them is pain! Pain and death!" He roughly dropped as she exploded in laughter.

" TICK TOCK SHERIFF TICK TOCK

HAHAHAAHAH!!!!. "

"Ray! Call up those two idiots and tell them we got a job for them" he angrily shouted to his deputy as he passes and grabs his coffee.

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #otis driftwood x reader #otis firefly #thedevilsrejects #the devils rejects

[deans-baby-momma]

Seeking Mercy-Chapter 4

Once they were done confirming that the Fgovalen’s corpse was well hidden from view in the woodland behind the derelict and run down house that it had housed it’s victims in, Dean, Sam and Mary climbed into the Impala to head back to the motel.

“I’ll let Don’ know that it’s been taken care of,” Dean says as he pulls into the empty spot in front of room 23. He watches Sam and Mary get out of the car and waits until he can see that they are safely inside the room before he reverses and heads for the police station.

Although the station is empty when he walks in he knows Donna is still on the premises because her truck is parked in her assigned spot. He knocks on the closed door to her office and waits for permission to enter.

“Come in.”

Dean turns the knob and enters the room to see Donna sitting at her desk, a half-empty bottle of bourbon in her hand. Donna’s eyes widen as she sees who walks in. Flashbacks of her walking into this very room, clad in lingerie, plays in her mind’s eye.

“Taken care of,” is all Dean says.

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Donna answers him, purposely not making eye contact with her friend and colleague.

“It was a Fgovalen,” Dean tells her, unprompted. “Kind of like a djinn. They take their victims and consume their blood while the victim is living in a dreamworld. Except unlike djinn, Fgovalens don’t kill their victims,” Dean continues to explain, shifting from one foot to the other. “They feed off humans for about a week and then they let them go.”

It is quiet in the office as Dean watches Donna and allows her to absorb the information. “Don’, did you-” Dean clears his throat as he steps toward the chair across from her. “-were you taken?”

“I think so,” Donna’s voice is low and hushed. “I went out to check out that place on 54. The old Henderson place. No one has lived there in years. I remember walking in, with my gun in my hand then the next thing I remember is waking up in my cruiser about a mile down the road. I didn’t realize so much time had passed until I got back to work.”

“How did you explain your absence?” Dean asks.

“Another health retreat,” Donna chuckles before bringing the bottle of bourbon up to her lips. “I must really be out of shape if these people think I go off on health retreats so often.”

“Nah, you’re not out of shape,” Dean honestly says, without thinking. “You’re-”

“Don’t. Just don’t,” Donna’s voice is full of tears as she takes another gulp of the amber liquid. 

“Donna, I have to ask. What was your dream about?”

She throws her head back and laughs at his question. “As if you don’t know. I’m pretty sure that asinine show I gave you earlier is proof of what I dreamed about.”

Dean looks at Donna, taken aback. ‘So that is where all that came from!’ he thinks to himself. ‘Wait, does that mean Donna is into me?’ 

He takes a good look at the sheriff in front of him. ‘Donna is one hell of a woman; pretty in her own way. A little wacky and eccentric but any man would be lucky to land a woman like Sheriff Donna Hanscum.’

“Listen, Donna-” Dean begins but is cut off before he can continue.

“No, it’s alright. I just want you to know, I would never, ever do something like that. Make you cheat on Y/N? Nuh-uh. That ain’t how I roll. I know you love Y/N, you only have eyes for Y/N. I was witness to the big Dean and Y/N romance, remember? Just forget it. Forget what you heard, what you saw. Please?”

“I can do that,” Dean says with a nod and then smiles. “Now are you going to hog all the booze?”

Adam looks up from the newspaper he had been reading.

"Sure. What's up?"

"Uh….well, you know how I was sick this morning?"

"Yea."

"And Dean asked you to stay back to keep a check on me."

Adam smirks as he says, "To make sure you don't drink your weight in whiskey, yea."

"It wasn't a hangover. I've been sick every morning for about a week and a half now."

"You think you got the flu? Are you running a temperature?" Adam stands up out of his chair and approaches her. 

"No. I don't have the flu."

"Well then what's wrong? Oh god, you're not sick sick are you? You're not dying right? Dear god don't tell me you are dying!"

Y/N shakes her head as she wrenches the stick in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she unfurls her fists and produces the test on her palm.

Adam looks confused for a second until it sinks in. He grabs the test out of her hand and studies it.

"Oh my god! Oh my fucking god! We did it, baby! We made a baby! I'm gonna be a father!"

In her anxiety-riddled mind Y/N doesn't comprehend his reaction at first. She doesn't realize that in his mind that he thinks she has only been with him for the past 8 months; that it was a certainty that Adam Milligan-Winchester fathered the baby growing inside her.

That is, until he picks her up and swings her around, laughing and smiling. 

"God, I can't wait to see you get big and round with my kid! Fuck, you have made me so goddamn happy Y/N. I love you so fucking much!"

When he leans in to kiss her is when Y/N realizes her mistake. She made Adam believe that she was announcing to him that he was the father. And that was not what she meant, at all.

"No, Adam. You don't understand."

"What is there to understand? You and I made a life. Our love created a tiny person who is growing in your belly. My baby is in you. Fuck, I'm so happy I could shout it from the mountaintops. Y/N WINCHESTER IS HAVING MY KID!"

"ADAM! SHUT UP! LISTEN TO ME!"

Her raised voice broke through her brother-in-law's celebration and he stopped to look at her.

"Are you not happy baby? I thought this was what you wanted. You begged me to fuck a baby in to you."

"Adam," Y/N calmly says. "I'm pregnant but….I don't know who the father is."

Adam visibly balks at her revelation. His face contorts and he looks like he'd been punched in the stomach; he looks like he is about to lose his dinner.

"Who else could it be? I'm the only one you've been with." Adam says and then looks her straight in the eyes. "Right?"

Shaking her head, Y/N glances around the room, looking at anything other than the youngest Winchester.

"Who?"

"Dean."

"Wait. I thought his dick was like a limp noodle. Didn't think he could get it up, like an old man or something." Adam chuckled. He fucking laughed at Dean's previous situation.

Rage and fury bubbled through her veins at his nonchalance toward his brother's prior predicament.

"Yea and then Cas healed him," she says, a bite in her tone. "He healed all of him, including his ED. And yes,  I've made love with my husband since."

"Oh."

"'Oh.' That is all you can say is 'Oh'? Fuck you Adam! Even if this kid is yours, I'm not telling anyone. And if you appreciate what all we've done for you,  taking you in like a stray and the guys teaching you the family business, you best not utter a word."

Y/N stalks out of the kitchen, leaving Adam standing there dumbfounded and confused. But as he thinks about the possibility that Y/N's baby is his, he gets a smile on his face and a plan begins to take form in his head.

Turning back to the table, Adam begins putting that plan into motion. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @sandlee44​​  @internationalmusicteacher​​ @kricketc29​ @natura1phenomenon​​ @blacktithe7​​ @spnbaby-67​​ @travelingriversideblues-x​​  @keymology​​ @tftumblin​​ @markofdean79​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @winchester-fantasies​ @akshi8278​ @michellethetvaddict​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @hoboal87​ @atc74​ @maddiepants​ @delightfullykrispypeach​

#seeking mercy #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #adam milligan #reader insert #unplanned pregnancy #dean x reader #adam x reader #cheating #Smut #donna hanscum #mary winchester #i wrote a case #made up monster

[rankdisasster]

obstacle 1

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“24 & 41 w some soft billy 🤧” requested by anonymous.

#24: “You’re trembling.”

#41: “I feel like I can’t breathe.” from dialogue prompts

warning(s): slurs, violence, panic attacks

a/n: angst but it gets better I promise!! title of the fic comes from a fucking phenomenal Interpol song. also beware if you send me a number from a prompt list there’s no way I know how to make it short like a drabble, I only know how to draw it out pretty much haha.

—

“What the fuck is the matter with you? Huh?”

Billy’s back had been shoved up against the wall, his lip trembling and eyes red rimmed with unshed tears. His father’s fingers are tightly clutched around his jacket, ugly nostrils widely flared, looking down at his own son as if he were a mistake; as if he were the scum of the fucking earth. And Billy knows that that’s true, too.

“I had to get a call from the sheriff, at—” his father breaks eye contact for a split second to eye the clock that hangs on his son’s bedroom wall, “three-thirty in the goddamn morning, only to be told that my gracious son has been caught stealing chocolate bars from the drugstore, like some fucking delinquent. How do you think this makes me feel, William? As your own flesh and blood,” his father sighs and pats his own chest, pretending like he’s hurt because Billy made a fool of himself and embarrassed his family. Of course, only his father would be making all this about himself yet again and not seeing with his blind dumb eyes that it’s a cry for attention and help.

It was impulsive and stupid, Billy can admit that at least.

He was hungry, he felt like acting out, and there just so happened to be a drugstore nearby and thought it’d be kinda funny. Billy assumed that the security would be shit, and he also assumed he’d be smooth enough to not get caught. He played the part pretty well, at least what he considered to be convincing. Whistling and peeking at his surroundings as he casually stuffed around twelve, maybe even more chocolate bars down his pants and coat pockets and then sprinting like a bat out of hell to the parking lot.

He swore he was in the clear, and would eventually get to enjoy the candy bars and have a funny story to tell you later. Have a happy ending to one of his shenanigans for once, instead of ending in tears and blood. That is until the way-too-beefy-for-this-job clerk behind the counter saw him and called him out before chasing him down, slamming his entire front into the concrete. Holding him there until the boys in blue show up and handcuff his hands behind his back before shoving him in the backseat. The bruises from the comfy cement came out nice and big, Billy already checked them out in the bathroom mirror at the station. Seriously, he’d never seen a guy get that protective over Kit-Kat bars since he was in grade school.

After fucking begging the officers to just let him off the hook and promising it’ll never happen again, that it was just a silly fluke; they had betrayed him, and unsurprisingly at that. Like all authoritative figures have done to him his entire eighteen years of living. The pricks really did it, they really called his dad on him, and now here we are.

“Answer me this instant!”

Billy flinched at the deafening tone his father used to screamed right into his face. Their noses are practically touching. He can even smell his father’s alcohol consumption through his breath, and it’s so fucking grotesque that Billy wants to throw everything he ate that day up.

“I got popped for stealing chocolate, s’not the worst thing I’ve done,” he weakly murmurs, cursing himself internally because he felt a tear bust out of his left eye. He can’t cry in front of this monster, he fucking can’t.

Why can’t this be over with already? Why not just a slap on the wrist, one and done? This shouldn’t be as bad as the time he got caught tripping on acid in the woods that his weird ass classmate Mike gave to him. Yet he’s still here, spitting on Billy’s face and gripping him tighter, voice thundering louder. Susan doesn’t ever give a fuck about what’s happening to her step son, so why would Billy be foolishly praying that she would save the day this time? The helpless boy even imagines a scenario ending with his little step sibling Max stepping in and calling the cops. But all that’s just wishful thinking. Those things only happen to people who are cared about, and nobody gives a rats ass for Billy’s well-being in this household. Not even the cops would throw his nutcase of a father in jail and swallow the key.

The cops only care about petty misdemeanors, such as teenagers stealing candy bars from drugstores. They wouldn’t bat an eye at seeing a troublemaker like Billy with bruises and scabs scattered all over his face. They don’t care. None of them do, and none of them listen either.

“Yeah yeah, sure. It’s just a couple candy bars, right? But here’s how thieves work,” Neil starts his lesson, looking down his nose and pointing a finger at Billy’s face accusingly. “First, it’s just a candy bar. No big deal, right? You’re just having a little fun. Then, it gets bigger. You get away with that, then one day, you think you can get away with stealing a car,” he takes Billy’s jaw in one hand to keep him in place before giving his cheek a quick sharp slap, leaving it stinging and flushing red. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The first punch is always a shock, and has the teen holding his breath waiting for what the next one will feel like.

“You are a fucking disgrace, a worthless juvenile with nothing better to do,” his father winds up for round two, even grinning like a sadistic bastard. He grins even wider when he sees his son’s face leak with more tears, and hissing when he wipes his own face too hard from brushing the evidence of the blow with his finger. More insults are thrown at him, like “faggot” or “disappointment”. He’s heard it all before, but it’s seeping further into his skull now, right along with his dear old dad’s fist. Cutting deep, deeper than it ever has, and not just in his face.

And Billy, paralyzed and hopless while lying on the ground, realizes that his father had to have been right all along.

Throughout his teens he consciously wondered if he actually was the reason Mom left, or if that’s just his dad fucking with his head. Which usually happens to be the case. But now, Billy is petrified that he’s telling the truth, and he’s giving it to him raw, like a sick reminder of his utter worthlessness. Maybe he will grow up to be no good, just another bum and a thief, getting caught doing more stupid shit. Billy wonders if this is really a sign that he should wise up before it’s too late.

His dad has finally stopped knocking his head into the wall and sucker punching his nose and cheeks, now seemingly satisfied with the work of art done to the boy’s face. With blood pouring from the boy’s nose like a faucet, he scrambles to plug it up and hug himself while bracing for a potential next hit. To Billy’s relief, his dad up and leaves at that, slamming the door behind him with a scoff and more damaging insults murmured under his breath. As soon as the door is shut, the boy fumbles to shove open his window, rushing to crawl the fuck out and nicking his injuries on the way out. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

By the time he’s out in his driveway, tears are still flooding out of his fucked up purple eyes and he rips open his Camaro door. While starting up the engine, he shakes his head before speeding to the only safe place he knows.

Your room.

—

When Billy makes it to your house, still just as hot of a mess as he was when he was being beaten and screamed at, the way up to your room was no picnic. He skinned his knee on the way down, falling three or four times before finally making it. His strength isn’t at it’s best at the moment. He carelessly shoves your window open and stumbles as he climbs through, landing directly on the floor. His back is to your door, and he adjusts himself to sitting with his legs crossed as he waits for your return. You’re probably downstairs, or in the bathroom. He doesn’t fucking know, but he wouldn’t doubt that you’d leave him too, like everyone else had when they discovered how much of a burden all his issues really are. History often repeats itself, and maybe it’s a mistake unveiling his mask and shitting all over you with his fucked up problems, but he doesn’t know where else to go.

Yours and Billy’s relationship strictly consisted of fun. Just joking around without any drama, maybe once in a while getting up to no good together. When you two would drink heavily in your room on weekends, sometimes he’d kiss you but you wouldn’t talk about it in the morning. Because that’d be just too much to deal with, and the packaged guarentee he got with you was that you weren’t anything to deal with. You were the most laid back, good time he’d had in this town. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d snuck up to your window and crawled in, however, it will be the first time he ever showed up this vulnerable and seeking comfort. Your comfort, specifically.

Billy’s back is still facing the door when you finally arrive, and you let out a squeal in fear before recognizing it’s him. You’d know that mullet, that jacket, and those tight blue jeans absolutely anywhere. It was your good friend Billy sitting on your floor.

“Holy shit man, you scared the Jesus outta me. Gimme a warning next time, ay?” you laugh, holding your chest to slow your quick heart down. It’s pretty late, and it’s a typical Saturday. You’re in your pajamas with a rejuvenating green face mask smothered all over your skin, as well as a bowl of cookie dough icecream in your grasp. It almost went flying when Billy had frightened you, and that would’ve been a bitch to clean off the carpet.

“I have some cookie dough icecream here. I could get you your own bowl too, if you want,” you offer, not yet hearing a peep from the boy seated on the ground. He’s eerily quiet, but you’re still oblivious to it all. “I heard this gossip around town, and oh my god, it totally reminded me of you. Some dipshit got caught stealing a bunch of Kit-Kat bars from the store right by your place,” you chuckle, then worry a bit as he remains unresponsive.

“Billy?” you tread lightly as you tip toe closer to him, then observe his shoulders shaking, and then his entire body too as if it were freezing in here or something.

“You’re trembling,” you notice, now terrified of knowing what happened to this boy to make him this freakishly twitchy. You hastily put your hand on Billy’s shoulder before the ice finally breaks. He turns his head to you , finally exposing the dried blood that’s still down his nose, as well as the black and blue all over his face. His tears were falling silently at first until he steadily starts to sob violently, letting you cradle him in your arms and shush him soothingly.

“I’m— I, I didn’t mean to, it was just s’pposted to be a joke, but I messed up so bad, he got so mad at me this time, and—“

“Who? Who got mad at you?”

Billy’s vision is blurring rapidly, to the point of barely seeing any shapes or colors. His chest is heaving up and down way too fast to be normal, and he thinks he’s about to have a fucking heart attack. His dad would probably throw a parade if his son moved into a hospital instead.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” he panics, whole body still trembling while holding you tight enough to hurt as his salty tears land on your shirt. You could give a fuck about your mask that’s still on your face and getting slightly ruined. Little bits of it is now smothering Billy’s hair, and that makes you want to smile, but this is no time to be smiling.

“Do you want some water? Fuck, I think I have a water bottle in my bag—“

“Please don’t leave me,” he implored, halting you from getting up by burying his beaten face into your chest.

“You got it! I’m staying right here, I swear. Um, I might remember the steps to doing mouth-to-mouth, if you need that?” your eyes are wide and apprehensive, praying to whatever God in the sky that Billy doesn’t die in your arms tonight. That seemed to get him to crack a smile, a weak one, but small progress is still progress. “I’m serious! I might be wishing I payed more attention in class when they talked about this stuff, but I’m here for you. I’m practically PhD certified,” you assure him, sounding less than convincing. Your ignorance is working it’s magic though, humoring Billy and making him finally take deep breaths at a normal rate, instead of the hyperventilating he’d been doing a second ago.

“Pfft. Sure, yeah, I can tell I’m in real good hands here. You got any a’ that cookie dough left, Doc?” he sniffles and licks his lips, staring at the bowl that still has a decent amount of scoops of the dessert left unmelted.

“Hell yeah, and there’s more where that came from. In fact, when you leave tonight, or tomorrow— whatever, you can stay as long as you want— I expect you to gain at least five pounds from this,” you hand the bowl over to his grabby hands, smiling sweetly as he scarfs it down. He suddenly stops for a moment and shrieks when he eats too much too fast, giving himself brain freeze. “You eat faster than my dog.”

“I’ll take the win on that challenge, actually,” he grins, inhaling more of the creamy dessert, letting out occasional hums when he gets an especially good bite of the sugary cookie dough.

After a beat of silence, you decide to get up and put a record on your record player, sticking with a classic Tom Petty album, setting it on low so that there’s some background. You know Billy favors it too, remembering all the drives you’d go on together with Petty playing through his speakers. You head to the bathroom which is only a small distance of five steps away, you grab a washcloth and wet it with warm water to clean Billy’s gross bloody face. You’ve never seen a guy look as fucked up as he did right now in real life. Only in the movies had you seen blood oozing from somebody’s face, or splotchy bruises like polka dots sitting on somebody’s face. Basically, you had no idea how to help him, but you were gonna try. He came to you after all, he trusted you enough to let you see this side of him.

“Is this the part where you give me that line, shit, what is it? Oh yeah, ‘you should have seen the other guy’?” you ask as you go up to him, making sure you’re as gentle as a feather while dabbing the damp lukewarm cloth on his battered cheekbones as he continues to eat.

“Nah, the other guy is just fine if you ask him,” Billy scoffs, finishing the bowl and putting it down next to him. He zips up his jacket further up his neck, then shoves his hands in his pockets as you tend to his wounds.

“You cold?”

“Eh, kinda. Not really though,” he answers, but you’re able to read between the lines at his body language then reach behind you to your bed, dragging a blanket over. Ignoring his protests about not needing to be babied this hard, you wrap it around him. He just shuts up and nods his thanks, holding it tighter by proving you right about how chilly he felt.

“I’m sorry about all this, by the way. I probably freaked you out, and I’m kinda wishing I hadn’t done that,” he sighs, in hindsight realizing how humiliating his meltdown was.

“Don’t apologize for showing emotion. That’s a fucked up male habit,” you scold, the boy nodding vigorously.

“It was me, you know,” he says , resulting in you raising your brows at the questionable ambiguity. He rolls his eyes at having to explain himself then goes on. “I did it. I uh, stole all those Kit-Kats from the store.”

You pause your cleansing his face then can’t hold in your giggles anymore at the fact that you were fucking right, of course Billy would be the one to do a thing like that.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up Y/N,” he claps his hands, sarcastically urging you on.

“C’mon, that’s some priceless shit!”

“At least someone found it funny,” he grumbles, staring down at his hands and the soft blanket keeping him warm.

“What’s the matter with you?” you ask playfully, covering your mouth muffle your boisterous laughter.

That stiffens the boy up, thinking back to his father’s words, “What the fuck is the matter with you, huh?”

“Holy shit, you should’ve called me! I so would’ve been there to like, cause a distraction, maybe flirt with the cashier so that you could take a pack of those expensive cigarettes you’ve always wanted to try,” you laugh, then take his silence into account and find him shutting down again. You don’t know what you said, but you had to make it right.

“Hey, hey now. Don’t get all emo on me again, we were just starting to have some fun,” you peek his undamaged chin up, looking at him in the eyes and trying to stay positive, or better yet keep him distracted from his demons that won’t quit.

“Do, um. You don’t think I’m gonna grow up a low life asshole, do you?” he asks, wanting to hear it from somebody that he’s doing a good job. Making somebody on this earth proud, because pleasing his dad is a lost cause, and getting back his mom is about as likely.

“No. Why? Is it that you think you will?”

“Kinda, yeah. That’s what everyone drills into my head anyways,” he laughs, but you refuse to because that isn’t funny.

“Well if you give me all their names, I’ll go to wherever they’re at and sock them in the face. I don’t care if they’re bigger than me, I’m fucking doing it. Let’s go, come on. What are their names?” you assert without an ounce of humor. Billy’s lips curl into a smile, huddling further into the soft blanket you had given him. He isn’t at all in control of how fucking wide his lips get when he grins, all from the fact that his short stack best friend would do all that just for him. He suddenly wants to rub it in his sad sack of a father’s face that somebody really cares about him.

And he wants to really kiss that somebody right now.

“Think it’s time you wash that uh, whatever that is,” he gestures to the face mask that’s since dried when he came, “Off your face. I could come with you, if you want.”

Your blush is hidden under the green goo, and you nod your head in confirmation before grabbing his hand to lead you two to the bathroom.

“What is it even for, anyway?”

“Oh. For like, exfoliating, and... honestly, I don’t know. It could be complete bullshit, I just threw it on hoping something might happen,” you give up trying to explain your attempt at keeping up with personal hygiene, then Billy just shushes you and points to the sink to hurry you on washing it off.

With a good three minutes of Billy staring intently at you splashing your face with water, you self consciously look away and grab a towel to dry off. He looks you down once more, shakes his head, then leans in and caresses your cheeks with both his hands. His kiss is long and makes you feel so warm and tingly everywhere, but you’re mostly worried about fucking up his face doing this. As if on cue, your nose bonks his, making him moan.

“I’m so so sorry, did that— that hurt you, didn’t it?” you ask with dread, before he shuts you up with another kiss, not letting what his dad had done to him stop him from enjoying you. After making out by the sink for as long as he could hold out for, the two of you pull back and take a breather, still panting and smiling so happily. He pets your perfect cheeks that rest in his palms, and he hums in thought before speaking.

“Your skin’s real soft,” he observes.

“Yeah? Thanks, I um. Guess the face mask isn’t total bull after all,” you laugh, most of it coming from the nerves.

“Huh. I could try it sometime, yunno, only if you keep your mouth shut about it,” he playfully threats, poking you in your stomach as you continue laughing from how it tickled you.

Billy decides to stay the night at yours, playing the little spoon in your arms tonight. Tom Petty is still quietly singing from your record player, the empty bowl that was once filled with cookie dough icecream still sitting on the floor. The boy’s face hasn’t gotten much better, and he knows he’ll have to deal with his dad again tomorrow. It’s inevitable, really. But he knows now that you’re by his side, ready and willing to even whoop his dad’s ass if he gets him hurt again. And that’s more than enough for Billy to feel like he can really pull through.

—

happier about how this one turned out:) thank you all so much for being so kind and patient and everything. the people who write on here are wonderful, the people who read on here are wonderful, everybody is so amazing and I can’t express how grateful I am!!

I really wanted to write the reader as being kinda clueless about what to do with taking care of him, cause I’ll be honest, I have no idea what I’d do if a guy like him ever came to me looking super fucked up😂

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

(I Just) Died In Your Arms (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 4.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn’t have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

A/N: We are slowly finally getting to the real story!

Warnings: x

Tagging: @charmed-asylum​

Word count: 1.1 K

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

Your car stopped at Wheeler's household exactly at eight o'clock. You took fresh clothes and a long shower, so you were clean as a lily. You bought Karen some chocolate in the town's supermarket and now you hopped off your car to walk to their door. Before you could even knock, the door opened for you.

It was Mike, smiling at you a bit, theatrically showing you the way to their kitchen.

"Mom says that you can leave your stuff under the jackets, the dinner is ready." - Mike pointed at the table. Ted, Karen's husband, and Mike's dad were already sitting there with the youngest Wheeler, a blonde girl whose name you couldn't remember for shit. Nancy was also there, smiling at you. She almost immediately got up to hug you tightly. It was still kind of nice to see a face that was familiar to you in this goddamn town.

The dinner was really nice. Karen asked you a lot of questions about the academy, she was curious and you were glad; even if she wasn't the type of mom Joyce Byers was, she loved her children more than anything in this world. To be honest, Karen was glad that she saw you and that you were actually doing good. Yeah, you were still mourning for Hopper, but everything was just fine for you.

After dinner, you and Nancy took off to her room. You both relaxed on the bed, listening to some music and she was telling you all about that college life and how her relationship with Jonathan is going. It was nice to listen about her dream life come true, step by step.

"Okay. Really. Why did you want to have a sleepover?" - Nancy asked seriously at one moment. You turned your head to look at her, but then you stood up, going to find the Byers file in your bag.

"I need to ask you about something. Because..." - You showed her the file. - "Documents are talking about the disappearance of Will Byers in the woods, there are papers stamped by the CIA or who... But here, in red, small writing..." - You put your finger down on the paper, looking her in the eyes. It said Do NOT trust them. It is a lie. in Hooper's handwriting. - "I thought that I could ask Joyce, but it happened to Will, so she would be... Joyce wasn't an option. Jonathan didn't even tell me what happened to Hopper. So... The only remaining options were you and Harrington."

Nancy took the file our of your palms carefully and looked from on paper directly to your face. Hopper had to be sure that no-one will ever search through he files so much in detail what they would've found this. He didn't count on his niece finding it basically instantly, because she knew her father.

"Do you really want me to tell you?" - Nance asked carefully and looked at Will's old photo.

"I'm fucking curious since this file says that they found and buried Will's body. Nancy, something's not adding up." - You laughed quietly and showed her the photo of Will's dead body. How could that boy be alive in your very arms just a few weeks ago when this file was telling otherwise?

"Damn Hopper." - Nancy chuckled. - "He never trusted that they would leave him just be after everything that happened. He was a bit paranoid."

And so she started from the whole begging - November of 84'. She told you where Will truly got lost and the truth about El. She told you about the Upside Down and the Demogorgons. Then she proceeded to 85' and what happened that year. She ended up her story with that very summer and you just sat there, listening tightly. It took her three hours to get the right timeline and everything.

When she finished, you just sat there and watched her face in the low light coming from the lamp. You needed to breathe in and breathe out because it was a lot to take in, so you just curled into a small ball and caught your knees. What she told you was completely and utterly crazy. But you couldn't just look into her face and ask her with a serious face if she isn’t just shitting you. For three hours, she was telling you about some alien from a parallel dimension - but you couldn't tell that you believed what she had told you. 

You were silent for a long time as you tried to understand what is happening at the moment.

“Do you have any questions? I know that it is a lot to take in... Just... Ask me.” - She gave you the closed file back. You took another deep breath in and took the folder into your palms, so you could shove it back into your bag. 

“No. Nance, thank you for telling me. Can we go to sleep now? I am tired as hell.” - You scratched the back of your neck, looking at her. She just nodded and turned the light off. 

You could feel as her body relaxed when she fell asleep. But you were still up, thinking about all the things Nancy told, listening to songs on your walkman, so it wouldn't wake Nancy up as you got more and more lost in your mind. It appeared to you that she was serious about everything - about the Demogorgon, the Upside Down, about the Mindflayer. Something was telling you that those names... They are from a child’s book or game. 

Everything you had heard was that the local U.S. Department of Energy was releasing some chemicals into the local environment and that it killed some girl. But the news told anything about some supernatural causes or anything. But then you thought about the folder that Hopper left at his office. 

So clearly, something was going on with either the CIA or the Government, but you didn't believe that it was exactly a monster who can open its head to bite off yours. Around one a.m., you got out of the bed to sit on the pillow Nancy had on the wood under the window. 

Something was wrong there, in Hawkins. You could feel it in your bones. But what? You rose your index finger to your lips, so you could bite on it lightly. It helped you think most of the time. 

Nancy told you her side of the story. Yeah, she did tell you her truth. You needed to ask Steve the other day. 

#Stranger Things #stranger things netflix #will byers #the upside down #the demogorgon #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #jim hopper #karen wheeler #tim wheeler #after season 3

[mdelpin]

AO3 | FF.Net Prompt: Arrow

This began as a 5 Sentence Meme for the prompt Arrow. 5 Sentences, that's it. How hard can it be? When my mind starts to go off, pretty damn hard apparently. I think I’ve mentioned I never do anything half-assed, even failing!

@grayserigala even though I botched the attempt I hope you still enjoy this madness. It was kinda fun to write. I’ve gifted it to you :)

The title was picked by my daughter and although I don't love it, it amused me because this is a rather long one shot ;)

Long Shot

Summary: Sting is scheduled to be executed in two days, and it's up to the dragon slayers and their friends to try to rescue him without getting caught themselves. Also Gray is a dumbass

Natsu Dragneel was the leader of a group of outlaws who had made their camp deep in the East Forest of Magnolia. The group consisted of seven teens who had been orphaned as a result of the current King of Fiore’s unfair laws and extreme taxation. They called themselves the Dragon Slayers.

The Dragon Slayers were determined to fight against the cruel injustice of the monarchy, and to this end, they stole riches from the wealthy and gave them to the poor so they might stand a chance of paying their taxes and avoiding incarceration. Any carriage that passed through the East forest was deemed fair game to their advances, and so far they’d managed to remain relatively unscathed.

All seven were mighty fighters, but Natsu was the best with a bow and arrow, being able to hit targets his friends could barely make out, which was why more often than not he was tasked with being the lookout. It was a tedious job most of the time, but not today.

Natsu heard the rustling first, alerting him to the presence of an intruder. He quickly grabbed an arrow from his quiver and placing it on his bow pointed it towards the noise, half expecting to see a forest animal come sauntering out. He waited patiently for whatever it was to get closer, only to smile widely when he saw someone he was well acquainted with.

“Ah, Good Sheriff of Magnolia, how kind of you to visit,” Natsu eyed the man who was walking up to him with an amused grin, “and wearing my favorite outfit no less.”

The Sherriff looked down at himself and was annoyed to find his shirt had disappeared, “Damn it, every fucking time! Couldn’t you live somewhere easier to get to?”

“That would rather defeat the purpose of being an outlaw, Sherriff,” Natsu reminded him, adopting a playful tone and giving the man’s chest an admiring glance before adding, “Plus I rather enjoy the view.”

Gray Fullbuster, the Sherriff of Magnolia, rolled his eyes at Natsu’s blatant flirting and pointed at his bow, “Put that thing away, you’re going to put someone’s eye out one of these days,” he grumbled.

“That depends on what brings you here,” Natsu responded, the carefree smile never leaving his lips but his eyes had hardened in wariness.

Gray sighed, “I already told you I was sorry about what happened with Sting, I have to keep appearances too, you know. If my father knew I was still involved with you, I might as well live here.”

“Why don’t you? I’ve certainly asked enough times,” Natsu slowly brought his bow down and set it aside, placing the arrow back in his quiver and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Natsu, don’t start that again,” Gray groaned not wanting to get into their usual argument already,” you know it’s not that simple. I can’t betray my father like that.”

“Why not? He betrayed you long before by forcing you to live a life you don’t want. Or is this really what you want to do with your life? Arresting people for not being able to pay their taxes when you know damn well there’s no way they could ever raise the number of jewels the King is demanding of them,” Natsu protested heatedly before adding much more quietly, “Or forcing you to live with her just to keep you from me.”

“Natsu--.” Gray began, but there were no words to explain his inner conflict, so he settled for grabbing the outlaw by his vest and pulling him into an embrace.

Natsu resisted at first, but when he felt the first brush of Gray’s lips against his own, he couldn’t help but yield to him. It had been too long since their last joining.

“You are the one I want, but I’m not like you, I can’t just leave everything behind to fight for a cause, no matter how noble.”

“Leave everything behind?” Natsu blinked at him in disbelief, “You act as if this was a choice! Tell me, what would you have had us do? You know damn well if we’d stayed we’d be behind bars now, even Wendy. This was the only way.”

“Damn it, Natsu, it’s not a game anymore!” Gray took a paper out of his pants pocket and held it out for the other to see, “Look at what came into my office this morning! The King has put a price on all your heads and with things being the way they are every marksman in Magnolia will be out for your heads for the reward. Please just go somewhere else, this isn’t a fight worth dying for.”

“It was never a game, Gray,” Natsu grabbed the paper and crumpled it before tossing it on the ground behind him, “I knew this would happen eventually, it changes nothing.”

“What’s he doing here?” An angry voice startled them as it approached.

“Stand down Rogue, he only came to warn us that a bounty has been placed on us.”

“How’s Sting?” Rogue asked, the lack of sleep and constant worry reflected in his features.

“I had a doctor tend to his wounds, he’s pissed at me but otherwise fine,” Gray reported, but he refused to look Rogue in the eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Natsu immediately asked.

“The bounty wasn’t the only reason I came today,” Gray finally said with a resounding sigh, “Sting is scheduled to be executed in two days.”

“Executed, but why?” Natsu tuned out Rogue’s ranting and focused his attention on his lover, “We’ve never killed anyone!”

“Because you guys hit the Heartfillia family and Jude Heartfillia is demanding justice,” Gray muttered unhappily.

“Sting wasn’t even on that job!” Natsu protested.

“You think they care about that? You Dragon Slayers have gotten too popular for your own good, especially you, Natsu. Word of your deeds has stretched far and wide sparking the imagination of many, and now the King wants to take you out before you can grow to become an actual threat.”

Gray could almost see the gears turning in Natsu’s head, and he began to panic, knowing whatever his boyfriend came up with was bound to be dangerous and ill-planned, “No, whatever is going through that pretty head of yours the answer is no. You need to stay as far away from the castle grounds as you can. Promise me, Natsu.”

Natsu refused to meet his eyes and Gray tried to get him to see reason, “Natsu, look at me,” Gray waited patiently for Natsu to comply, “They’re trying to draw you out so they can kill you, please don’t hand yourself over to them on a silver platter.”

“So this is your dad’s plan, huh? Kill the boyfriend so you can live happily ever after with the Lockser princess?”

Gray nodded miserably, “Please don’t try to rescue Sting, I can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“You know that prison better than anyone, with your help we could get Sting out,” Natsu pleaded, “For once in your goddamn life, pick me!”

“What are you talking about? I’ve always picked you, you idiot, why do you think you’re still alive?” Gray huffed, squeezing his hands into fists even as he growled, “Do you really think if anyone else had my job, you wouldn’t be caught by now?”

“Then pick me one last time, once we get Sting back, we can run away, somewhere so far they’ll never find us,” Natsu begged, “We could have the life we’ve always dreamed about.”

“I’m all he has left, Natsu,” Gray looked away, not wanting to see the hurt he knew would be in Natsu’s eyes, “It would kill him, I can’t be responsible for that.”

“For God’s sake, just let him go, he’s never going to love you the way you want and you know it, “ Rogue interrupted, tired of all their back and forth, “But know this Fullbuster, you’re the one who got Sting into this mess, and you are going to help us get him back, you owe us that much.”

“No, we don’t need his help,” Natsu assured Rogue with a smile, “we’ll go in on our own as we’ve always done.”

He studied Gray carefully for some time, thinking about Rogue’s words and feeling the truth in them as he never had before.

“Go back to your comfortable life and forget you ever loved me,” Natsu’s words were like arrows piercing straight through his heart, but Gray couldn’t deny the wisdom in them. “Goodbye, Gray. I thank you for the warning, but don’t ever come back here again.”

Natsu turned around and walked away from him, not once looking back. But Gray could see the slight shaking of his shoulders which he knew from experience meant Natsu was crying and he instantly regretted his words.

“No, Natsu wait!” Gray yelled, but he knew it was too little too late, Natsu had asked him to run away with him, and like a fool, he’d turned him down.

He started to move towards where he knew from previous experience Natsu’s tent was located only to be stopped by Rogue.

“You heard him, he’s through with you,” Rogue’s red eyes were practically glowing, his katana already trained on him, and Gray knew he was barely holding himself back, his hatred bursting out of his glare as he’d been given yet another reason to dislike him.

“Please tell him I love him?” Gray requested before turning away sadly and starting the long trek home. He knew it was unlikely Rogue would do as he’d asked. Things had not gone at all the way he’d hoped, but maybe it was for the best.

If he wasn’t willing to leave his life, what right did he have to keep Natsu waiting? Natsu deserved better than that, better than him, he thought glumly. Gray did love him, always had from the moment he’d realized what love was.

He was disgusted with himself, Natsu might be an outlaw living in the forest, but he’d never had any trouble following his beliefs, regardless of personal consequences. He had no problem showing his love for Gray in front of others, or going after the monarchy if that was what he felt was the right thing to do. Natsu’s life might be more primitive, but it was genuine.

Gray’s entire life was a farce. He had never wanted to be Sheriff, had only taken the job once he’d realized it would allow him to keep Natsu safe from harm. He didn’t want to marry Juvia Lockser either, she was pleasant enough, but she was just some girl his father had picked for him, someone to divert what he called Gray’s unnatural obsession with Natsu towards someone he deemed acceptable.

Juvia was a beautiful girl, but she’d never stood a chance. It was Natsu he’d always wanted. His brilliant smile and expressive eyes, his hands that brought Gray so much comfort, his lips that Gray loved to kiss, his body that gave Gray so much pleasure. But more than all those things it was Natu’s unwavering love that Gray counted on and wanted to be worthy of. And he had tossed it away because he was too afraid to let go of what he was used to.

He entered his office and sat down at his desk, glancing over at Sting every now and again before focusing his attention back on his desk. He’d had him moved to the holding cell days earlier, with the excuse it would be easier to keep an eye on him before the execution.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sting groused from his cell, “You’re making me dizzy.”

Gray looked around to make sure there was no one else that could hear him, “I saw Rogue and Natsu today, I told them about your execution.”

“I figured, “ Sting smirked at Gray’s bare chest knowingly, before narrowing his eyes, “Wait! Why would you do that? Are you trying to get them killed too?”

“Of course not! We both know they were going to find out about it anyway, I planned to try to talk them out of coming for you, but if that didn’t work, I figured they’d at least have longer to plan something, instead of coming in half-assed like you guys always do.”

“You should have kept your mouth shut, they might not have found out about it at all.”

They remained quiet for a few minutes before Sting couldn’t hold his question any longer, “How did Rogue look?”

“He looked,” Gray thought about it for a moment, “tired and worried. I’m sorry, if that one guard hadn’t shown up I could have let you go.”

Sting waved away his apology, “Nah, you’ve let us go plenty of times, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“What if I let you go now?” Gray wondered out loud, “At night while most of the guards are sleeping, you’ve healed enough to make it back to camp. I can alert people in the morning that you escaped.”

He could hear Sting chuckling knowingly, “Have another fight with Natsu?”

“He told me to forget I ever loved him,” Gray whispered glumly, his face reflecting his misery.

“Seriously, dude, you need to grow a pair and get the hell out of this place,” Sting advised, placing his hands behind his head as he lay on his cot, “I haven’t seen you crack a smile once since I’ve been enjoying your hospitality. You used to laugh all the time, we all did.”

“I don’t want him to get killed trying to rescue you,” Gray fretted, “If I let you go, he’d never be in danger.”

“If you let me go and stay behind, you’ll either be executed in my stead or remain locked in some cold tower like a princess for the rest of your life. What do you think Natsu will do then?” Sting looked up at the ceiling of his cell stoically, “We either both get out of here, or we wait for them to come for me.”

He thought about Sting’s words knowing he was right. Was his father’s happiness really more important than his own? He’d spent his entire life trying to please the man, but no matter what he did, he always managed to fall short of expectations. Why shouldn’t he go with Natsu? They could run away together as Natsu had suggested, start over somewhere. Hell, it’s not like he even agreed with what the King was doing, he’d rather fight against him than continue to whittle away at his soul by working for him.

The more he thought about it, the more determined he became to put their happiness first.

“We’ll leave tonight before they can come up with a plan,” Gray informed Sting before leaving the prison and heading for his home to get some things together.

“About fucking time,” Sting muttered, looking forward to seeing Natsu’s face when he glimpsed the two of them arriving together. He’d been waiting for Gray for a long time.

O-o

“We need to go tonight,” Natsu insisted, “They’ll be expecting us to do something on the day of the execution.”

“Well yeah, it makes more sense, they’ll have to take him out of his cell, it would be easier.” Laxus pointed out.

“I agree with Natsu, the sooner we get Sting out of there, the happier I’ll be,” Rogue chimed in.

“You’re not coming, no arguments,” Natsu declared much to Rogue’s dismay, “You’re way too tired to be of any use, Wendy stays too.”

“We need to take a small group that can get in and out quickly without being detected,” Natsu explained, “Gajeel, do you think you can pick the lock on Sting’s cell quickly if we can’t find a key?”

“Should be a piece of cake, “ Gajeel assured him with a grin.

“Cobra can be the lookout, with those ears of his he should be able to hear anyone coming,” Natsu continued, “You in, Cobra?”

“Sure, why not? It’s been boring around here anyway,” Cobra shrugged disinterestedly, “What about Laxus?”

“I need him to stay here and watch Rogue and Wendy, make sure they don’t do anything stupid like try to follow us,” Natsu glanced at Laxus hopefully, knowing he wasn’t going to be pleased with a babysitting role.

“Fine, I’ll make sure those two behave but don’t turn this into a thing, Natsu,” Laxus grunted.

“I won’t,” Natsu agreed, grateful that the older man wasn’t giving him a hard time. He looked at the others and said, “Get your stuff ready, we’ll leave as soon as it gets dark.”

Rogue walked up to him as he was getting his supplies together. “Listen Natsu, I wanted to say I was sorry for earlier, I shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of your argument.”

“It’s fine,” Natsu waved him away, “You were right.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Rogue avoided Natsu’s gaze, “he tried to go after you, but I didn’t let him. He asked me to tell you that he loves you.”

Natsu felt the words go through him, to the place in his heart that hurt whenever he thought of what could have been, and he sighed, “Thanks for telling me, but it doesn’t change anything, he’ll never leave, and I can’t wait for him forever. As soon as we get Sting back, we’re going to leave Magnolia and find someplace safer to continue what we’re doing.”

Natsu grabbed the rest of his supplies and went to say goodbye to Wendy and Laxus. Wendy hug tackled him and held on for as long as Natsu allowed it. He ruffled her hair gently before pulling away.

“Be careful,” Laxus warned them, “if anything feels off just come back, we can try again tomorrow.”

Natsu, Gajeel, and Cobra nodded and took off, moving silently from tree to tree.

O-o

“You’re really doing this?” Sting peered at Gray from his cell, noting with surprise the travel bag he was carrying, “I’m proud of you, man.”

Gray didn’t answer, too terrified to come up with anything suitably flippant. He knew the moment he opened that cell he would be labeled a traitor by the Crown. There would be no going back, the life he was used to would be closed to him forever, and he would be running for the rest of his life.

But you will be running with Natsu, he reminded himself, and at that thought, he began to breathe a little easier. If he could be with Natsu, then everything would be worth it.

Gray managed to smile at Sting as he shoved his bag under his desk. “I’m going to go get your dinner, the guards have already begun their rounds.”

Sting nodded absently, too nervous to really be hungry but happy for the distraction nonetheless. He’d been surprised to learn some guards were sympathetic to their cause. They had apologized to him for not being able to help, telling him about how the Dragon Slayers had helped out some of their relatives. They had a job to do, and Sting respected that. They weren’t the enemy, the King was.

Ever since he had come to power five years earlier, he had doubled and in some cases tripled the amount of taxes they were expected to pay, leaving everyone but the incredibly rich to live in a kind of indentured servitude.

The older subjects had tried to keep up as best they could, but it had proved too much for their feeble bodies. Many of them died. That had happened to all their caretakers, leaving the Dragon Slayers to fend for themselves as best they could at a reasonably young age. It had been Natsu who had decided they had to go while they still could, and the six of them had followed, ending up deep in the woods, a place Natsu knew well.

Sting couldn’t wait to get back there, already looking forward to surprising Rogue and showing him that he was alright. He was thinking about his boyfriend when Gray returned with two trays filled with food. He passed one to Sting and sat at his desk, ignoring his food in favor of wringing his hands back and forth.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sting reminded him, sounding concerned.

“Yeah I do,” Gray disagreed, knowing if he didn’t, he would regret it for the rest of his life, “It just feels like everyone’s staring at me like they know what I’m going to do.”

“Oh that,” Sting smiled, “It goes away, we all felt it when we went after our first carriage. When are we going to go?”

“Right after the change of the guard, at that point, they should be the farthest away from here, it should buy us some time.”

“Sounds good,” Sting started picking at the food on the tray, “We might as well eat, it doesn’t taste any better cold.”

Gray grunted in agreement and began to eat. He was almost done when his father walked in.

“What is this about you going on a trip?”

“Wh-what?” Gray stuttered, his fork clattering to the floor as he startled from the unexpected visit.

“Your girl came to see me in tears,” Silver Fullbuster stared his son down looking displeased, “said she had seen you pack your belongings in a bag.”

“She’s not my girl, and she has a name,” Gray snapped, but inwardly he was freaking out at his father’s presence. He stole a glimpse at the clock, cursing his luck and Juvia’s habit of watching everything he did. “Considering how determined you are for me to marry her, I’d think you’d remember it.”

“I’m a busy man, Gray, I don’t have time for your wit,” Silver chastised, “Are you going somewhere or not?”

“Of course not Father, I have an execution to plan,” Gray fought the childish urge to roll his eyes, somehow managing to keep his gaze level with his father’s as he shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea what she thought she saw, she lives in a fantasy world. Perhaps you should have picked someone better to force me to marry.”

Silver raised his arm in a striking motion when he was interrupted by Sting.

“Hello, Lord Silver,” Sting greeted from his jail cell with a mock bow, almost laughing at the disgust on Silver’s face when he realized who was addressing him.

“Don’t presume to act so familiar with me criminal,” Silver spat, he looked into the cell and when he was sure he had Sting’s attention his lips curled into a cruel smile as he casually added, “the world will be a better place once you have left it.”

Sting chuckled and waved at Silver cheerfully not letting his words affect him in the slightest.

Gray, however, could only gawk at his father, Sting’s father had been Silver’s friend for many years. Hell, his father had watched Sting grow up over the years as he’d played at their house along with all the other dragon slayers throughout his childhood.

This was the man he’d held in such high regard? Gray found himself thanking God for letting him see this side of his father. It helped remove any doubt he had left. He had to get out of this place, he had no desire to risk ending up like him.

He watched his father leave in a huff and turned to Sting, “Thanks for the save.”

Sting just shrugged it off, “No offense, dude, but you’re already a better man than your father.”

Gray could only hope that Sting was right. He looked up at the clock again, only one more hour to go. They settled down to wait and reminisced about their past.

O-o

Natsu, Gajeel, and Cobra crept up to the large castle as quietly as they could manage with the tools they were carrying. They marked guard placements to see how they had changed in their absence. They’d never attempted to infiltrate the castle before, and they were nervous, but it was the only way they could rescue Sting.

They had a relatively good idea of where things were having spent much time inside its walls as children, but they’d never needed to visit the prison, although they had a general idea of where it was located.

“We have to wait until the change of the guard, Gray’s mentioned that’s the best time to sneak in,” Natsu whispered.

Cobra started to laugh, “Is that what you guys talk about while you’re getting each other off? And here I thought you’d both found religion.”

“Shuuuut up,” Natsu hissed even as his face changed colors from Cobra’s teasing, “You’re an asshole.”

Cobra smirked, amused by Natsu’s response as well as Gajeel’s ridiculous gihis, but he saw both their shoulders had lost some of the tension they’d exhibited just minutes earlier. Good. He strained to hear anything he could. He frowned at one particular piece of information.

“I don’t know if this is good or bad but it sounds like Sting isn’t at the prison anymore he’s in,” but before he could finish his thought Natsu completed it.

“Gray’s office. Oh man, this is gonna suck,” Natsu groaned.

“What are you talking about?” Gajeel looked puzzled, “Why would it be a bad thing? I mean he’s on our side.” He scratched his head, not getting what was so bad about it, but when he received no answer, he added, “Isn’t he?” The way he looked at it that should make everything simpler.

“Yeah, he is, but think about it,” Cobra explained quietly, “If we take Sing out from under him he’s going to lose even more credibility than he already has. He might find himself in jail. So he’ll have no choice but to go against us.”

Natsu took a deep breath hating himself for what he was about to say, “We go in as planned, Sting is one of us, and we’re not going to let him be executed. Gray made his bed, now he’ll have to lay in it.”

“Are you sure?” Cobra pressed, knowing this was likely to go badly.

Natsu nodded curtly, and when he noticed the guards had left their positions, he ordered, “Let’s go.” They immediately threw up their grappling hooks and began to climb the castle wall.

O-o

“Here, put this on,” Gray threw a guard outfit at Sting that he had packed in his bag.

Sting hastily put it on over his own clothes, exiting the cell as soon as Gray unlocked the door and declaring “Let’s go home.”

Gray could only peer at Sting anxiously as he contemplated the enormity of what he was about to do.

Sting came over and patted him on the shoulder, “Relax, dude. You’re gonna pass out if you don’t breathe. Everything will either be fine, or we’ll die. Either way, we’ll be out of here.”

“That’s meant to be comforting?” Gray complained, taking some slow breaths to steady himself as Sting laughed at him.

“To know me is to love me,” Sting shrugged even as he grinned excitedly, “You good?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Gray muttered, grabbing his bag and draping it over his shoulder. “When we get out there, make sure to walk slightly behind me, you’re a guard, not an equal. And look around for intruders or something, but don’t look anyone in the eye, and don’t talk to anyone.”

“Got it.”

They walked out of his office and headed for one of the lesser used entrances of the castle, Sting walking a few feet behind him.

They had been incredibly lucky, only bumping into a few other guards. Gray nodded at them curtly and continued on his way. They had just made it outside when they heard the first cries.

“Intruders!”

Sting and Gray looked at each other, both facepalming as they grumbled, “Natsu!”

Gray started walking back when Sting grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, “What are you doing?

“What does it look like? I’m going back to get Natsu,” Gray shook Sting off and continued on his way.

“You can’t do that idiot, he’s here to get me out. He’ll see I’m not there anymore and head back to camp.”

“No Sting, he won’t, because he’ll get himself captured or killed. There’s a bounty on all your heads now, Dead or Alive. The only reason we got out so easily is that I was with you and no one thought to give us a second look. I never thought he’d be bold enough to try something tonight.”

“You can go home if you want, but I have to go get him, or all this is for nothing.”

Sting looked towards the woods with longing, but he knew Gray was right, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Natsu died and he could’ve done something to prevent it. Besides if Natsu was here odds were Rogue was also.

“Fuuuuuck!” Sting cursed, knowing he might be walking back to his execution, “Fine, what’s the plan?”

“We go back in and act normal until we get found out, “Gray shrugged while trying to ignore his growing apprehension, “What else can we do?”

He grabbed a sword and a bow and a quiver of arrows out of his bag. He kept the sword as was his custom and handed the rest to Sting. “I hope you’re as good with that as I remember.”

“Second only to Natsu,” Sting assured him, and together they made their way back in.

Gray stopped one of his guards who was running in the direction of his office, “Where are the intruders, how many are there?”

“Three, Sir, They were seen heading towards your office, we believe they’re attempting to rescue the prisoner. What are your orders?”

Three of them, but which three? Natsu for sure, this screamed of his terrible planning, Rogue probably, but who else? If it was Laxus, they were fucked. “Can you tell me anything else?” Gray asked before sending the guard as far away from his office as he could by asking him to fetch the outlier guards.

Sting and Gray shared a glance before rushing back to Gray’s office.

O-o

“What do you mean it’s empty?” Cobra hissed from his spot by the door.

“Just what I said, there’s no one here,” Natsu replied crossly. What the hell were they supposed to do now?

“Well, we’re fucked,” Gajeel pointed out as the first cries of intruders rang out, “Anyone got any ideas?”

“I say we just run out of here as fast as we can and hope for the best,” Natsu suggested.

“Really? That’s the best you’ve got?! How the fuck did you end up being our leader?” Gajeel sputtered, hands going to the hilt of his weapon.

“What the fuck else are we supposed to do? We can’t stay here,” Cobra pointed out, “Someone’s coming. Forget that, everyone’s coming!”

All three men gave frantic looks to their surroundings, looking for another way out or anything that might help them.

All of a sudden they heard cries of “They went that way, hurry. They’re getting away!” that sounded very much like Sting.

The hell? They all thought at the same time.

Steps were still heard coming closer, but it sounded like only two people now. They hid as best they could so they wouldn’t be visible from the door and waited with weapons drawn. The door opened and closed quietly.

“You fucking morons,” Sting launched into a rant, “We had gotten out! We were headed home until you dumbasses got yourselves seen and we had to come back to get your sorry asses.”

“Sting!” Cobra, Gajeel, and Natsu converged around their friend and examined him, making sure his wounds had healed before attacking him with effusive hugs.

Natsu was the first to respond, “Wait, we? We who?”

Gray stepped out from where he’d been studying Natsu, suddenly feeling shy after their last conversation. “Hey.”

“You broke him out?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be here anymore, I wanna be wherever you are,” Gray smiled tentatively as he waited for Natsu’s response.

“Are you sure? Once you do this, there’s no going back,” Even though he sounded muted, Natsu was thrumming with excitement at the possibility.

“I’m sure,” Gray opened his arms and Natsu rushed into them and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, I should have gone with you from the very beginning, I was a stubborn idiot.”

“Damn, I never thought I’d see the day he actually admitted it,” Gajeel muttered while Sting only smiled at his two friends.

“This is all wonderfully romantic and all but let’s not forget we still have to get the fuck out of here,” Cobra was once again acting as a lookout, “Anyone got a plan?”

Natsu went to open his mouth when Cobra amended, “Anyone who isn’t Natsu.”

Natsu was about to protest but looking at where they were decided, maybe Cobra was on to something.

‘You could pretend to take me as a hostage?” Gray suggested still holding on to Natsu.

“That might work,” Sting agreed although he didn’t like it, that would make anyone not holding on to Gray an easy target. “Anyone else?”

“Are there any other ways out?” Cobra asked, “We can’t stay in here much longer.”

“Not that we could get to easily or quickly,” Gray said after some thought, “What about if we split up? It might confuse them. I can see if there are more guard outfits in here.” He rummaged quickly and found only one other, it looked like it might fit Cobra, so he threw it over.

They all studied Natsu and Gajeel, neither one would be easy to disguise when much to their surprise Sting took off his guard uniform and handed it to Gajeel.

“Let’s see how this looks on you,” Sting muttered, and they soon realized it should be good enough to pass for as long as they would need to get out. “Okay, so the way I see it Natsu and I are the most recognizable targets out of the four of us so Cobra and Gajeel will be guards escorting me to the prison on the Sherrif’s order. No one should question it, and we’ll try to go out the same entrance Gray and I did.”

Gray nodded in agreement, seeing the value in Sting’s plan. “That just leaves Natsu and me, he’ll pretend to take me hostage in exchange for getting out safely. It could work, remember not to talk to anyone unless forced to, and say as little as possible.”

He grabbed a pair of handcuffs and tossed them at Gajeel, who turned and grabbed Sting’s hands roughly, looking almost giddy as he put the cuffs on and announced, “You’re under arrest!”

Sting groaned, “Great, I forgot how he gets when he gets any authority.”

He could hear Natsu and Cobra snorting at Gajeel’s antics and muttered, “Idiots, all of them are idiots.”

“Alright go, we’ll follow in a few minutes,” Gray urged, hoping against all hope that they all managed to get out of this unscathed, “When you get out don’t wait for us just head back to camp. We’ll do the same. Good luck.”

The three men nodded, and Sting told them the general direction they would be going, two minutes later they were gone.

“I love you,” Natsu said suddenly, “you know, in case I don’t get to repeat it. And I’m sorry for screwing everything up.”

“It’s okay, you had no way of knowing, I only made up my mind a few hours ago,” Gray grabbed Natsu’s hand and laced their fingers together squeezing them tightly, “Here, for luck.” Gray pulled Natsu closer to him, using his free hand to caress Natsu’s cheek before leaning in and pressing his lips against his boyfriend’s, eager to make up after their fight.

Once they separated, Gray smiled, “I love you, too.”

Natsu was too scared to be happy, for the first time since he’d taken this path he really did have something to lose, and he didn’t want that to happen.

“Hey,” Gray encouraged, noting his distress, “Everything’s going to be fine. We just have to get through the next few minutes, and then we can forget all about this place.”

Natsu nodded, grabbing the sword Gray offered him before taking a deep breath and saying. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Gray smiled at him one last time before opening the door and stepping out. They managed to get halfway through the first courtyard before being challenged. Gray had been holding his breath the whole time, terrified that someone would attempt to take a shot at Natsu from behind for the reward money.

“Sherrif?” A guard approached them, and Gray quickly held his hands up in front of him.

“Don’t do anything hasty, he’s promised to let me go once he gets out of the castle,” Gray lied, trying to sound as convincing as he could manage considering his heart was halfway up his throat.

“Show them the sword, Natsu, you’ve got to sell this,” Gray muttered under his breath.

Natsu held the short sword up for the guard to see and placed it against Gray’s neck. “Let us be on our way, or I swear I’ll cut him!” He couldn’t bring himself to say kill.

The guard looked from Natsu to Gray nervously, not knowing what to do. He let them go, but as soon as they had gotten past him, he screamed out, “The Sherrif has been taken captive by one of the intruders.”

“Shit!” Gray cursed, “We need to hurry, there’s an exit not too far from here.”

They heard a multitude of steps running in their direction and decided to forego the farce and just run as fast as they could towards the exit. Gray would never know what possessed him to look back.

At the front of the ever-growing group of guards chasing after them was his father, looking angrier than Gray had ever seen him. He held a bow in one hand while the other reached for an arrow from the quiver that hung on his back. His face was contorted into a mask of hatred directed at Natsu who was still running, unaware of the danger that lurked just behind him.

Time seemed to slow down as Gray saw his father stop running, loading the newly acquired arrow into his bow and aiming it at Natsu. Gray stopped running as well, he turned and flung himself in front of where Natsu was standing just in time to feel a sharp pain in his chest as the arrow pierced his flesh.

Gray felt himself falling, heard Natsu’s screams and the twang of his bow as arrow after arrow left it, dispersing the crowd of guards. He heard other people screaming, maybe even his father, but he had stopped caring. All he wanted was to look at Natsu for as long as he could, but his vision was starting to blackout.

“Natsu?” Gray called out urgently, not knowing what was happening.

“Shh, don’t talk, I’m here,” Gray could feel hands gently touching around his wound, his body arched in pain as Natsu tugged the arrow that was lodged in his chest.”

“Tell me what it would have been like if we had run away together,” Gray pleaded.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Natsu insisted.

“Please?”

Natsu talked trying to distract Gray from what he was about to do, “We’ll play pranks on the others during the day, but never on Wendy. We’ll go hunting and swimming, and at night we’ll find a field where we can look at the stars, and we’ll make love every night. Neither one of us will ever be alone again.”

He took off his shirt and waited until Gray looked relaxed before pulling the arrow out and shoving his shirt over the wound, putting as much pressure as he could on Gray’s chest to stop the bleeding.

“I love you, Natsu,” Gray managed to say before closing his eyes, his expression peaceful.

“I love you too, dumbass,” Natsu replied lovingly. He looked up and saw that a guard was heading his way. He thought about getting his bow out, but he didn’t want to remove pressure on the wound just yet.

“Is he going to be okay?” The guard asked him, his expression sad.

“I think so, he’s just fainted from the blood loss, “ Natsu explained with a reassuring smile.

“That was his father that shot him, I can’t believe it,” the guard looked shell-shocked.

“Yeah, he never did like me much,” Natsu explained, “Although I wish Gray hadn’t gotten himself hurt over it.”

“I’m going to take him now, are you going to try and stop me?”

The guard shook his head, “No reason to, it was pretty obvious he wanted to go with you, There are a few of us who would like to come with you too if you allow it. We want to help you fight against the King.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Lyon,” the guard smiled at him hopefully.

“I’m Natsu, welcome to the Dragon Slayers, you can go get your friends, we’ll be leaving shortly. Also, can you check on Silver for me? Gray will want to know when he wakes.”

Lyon nodded eagerly and scampered off, returning ten minutes later with about twenty others, all eager to leave the castle behind.

“Silver will live,” Lyon reported.

Natsu closed his eyes, thankful he had once again succeeded in not killing anyone with his arrows. He knew he wouldn’t be able to manage that forever, but he wasn’t ready to cross that line yet. He hoped the others had been able to escape without a problem.

Now that the bleeding had stopped he picked Gray up carefully and carried him in his arms, and began the long walk to their camp followed by a group of boys and men that seemed to get bigger every time he looked back. When they reached the edge of the forest, they found Gajeel, Sting, and Cobra waiting for them and they all walked home together as Natsu explained what had happened.

Maybe they’d be able to pull this off after all. Natsu looked down at Gray and smiled, hardly daring to believe that from that day forward, they would no longer be separated. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but with Gray by his side, Natsu knew it would be worth it.

A/N: Hope you liked it, this was insanely fun to write. I really enjoy writing the dragon slayers being friends. They're a bunch of dumbasses, but I love them all. I also loved Gray and Sting in this!

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #ftfanfics #humor #angst #stingue #dragon slayers #prison break #my edits

[unholymattressmoney]

Authority, Pt. 2

Alright, I have to mention this is incredibly noncon, but if you read pt. 1 (no link until tumblr fixes its shit: find my reed-(umm)-writes tag), you'd know we were goin' in that direction, anyway. Also, pregnancy scare warning.

Whoops! *drops this, winks, and skedaddles*

Your head spun as Gus lifted you up from the floor. When did he get so fucking strong? You could only struggle in his grip as he hauled you onto his desk.

“Look at me. Look at me,” he growled out, gripping your chin. You cried out, trying to lurch away from him. But you looked, all right. His eyes were wild, hair mussed after you tried and failed to fight him off.

“Please, Gus, you can’t-”

He swallowed up your pleas with a kiss. It was engulfing. Like he was trying to consume you. He gripped your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck. You let out another strangled cry, the tears spilling over as he pressed his lips to your skin.

“Nobody’s gonna bother us. As far as they know, I’m at lunch. And they’re not wrong about that, are they?”

He bit down, as if to make a point. Not enough to break skin, but hard enough for you to know there would be a mark later.

“I could eat you right up.”

He dragged his tongue up the side of your neck, and then you heard him say, “You call for help, you make a single goddamn sound that’s not a pretty little moan, and you’re dead. Understand?”

Though a sob was lodged in your throat, you nodded. Gus let you go, stepping back to look at you. Walking back and forth, into and just out of your peripheral. You stared down at your hands, clenched tight in your lap.

“Now, I said if you cleaned my shoes, I’d let you get off. You wanna get off, don’t you?”

You knew that you wanted to get the hell out of his office.

“Take your pants off for me.”

Your heart leaped, and you looked up at him pleadingly.

“Gus, please...why are you doing this to me?”

He came closer, and you hated how he towered over you. “I’m just doing my job, sweetheart. Now take them off, or I can do it for you.”

You sniffled, face hot. You were quivering in your spot on the desk, but you swallowed the lump, finally able to squeak out a feeble “No.”

He didn’t even react, the smirk on his face barely changing. Your shoulders nearly relaxed: maybe this was a joke? He simply wanted to scare some sense in you, right?

He seized you by your throat, squeezing none too gently. You gasped like a fish on land, clutching at his thick forearm. You saw his free hand dip down toward your thighs, and you thrashed wildly. The movement only helped your pants settle around your ankles.

He forced himself between your legs so you couldn’t kick at him. You saw your vision darkening; the lack of air had you slumping back weakly, the fight draining out of you.

“That’s right, go ahead and relax while I get you ready.”

You balanced on the edge of consciousness, trying to get your breath back. You saw Gus yank his tie off, felt him wrap it around your wrists. You wanted so badly to get up, to fight, but nothing was happening.

“Gus...” you tried once more as the man pushed you down onto the desk. You saw him unclasp his thick belt with one hand while the other rubbed at your stomach.

“Remember what I said about being quiet. Mm, I’m gonna take my time with you.”

That was about the worst thing he could have said. You moaned as he freed himself from his slacks. Gus smiled, thinking the sound was directed at him.

You hoped, nearly prayed that he’d at least use a condom, but he threw that to the wind, as well.

“Don’t hold your breath, it’ll only make it hurt more.”

It felt like forever and a day passed until he finally pushed himself into you. Fuck, he was right. It hurt, burned like hell. You thought you might faint before it was over. If only.

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know. I know you like the way my cock fills you up.”

You didn’t, you really didn’t, but you couldn’t stop the spark of pleasure that licked up your spine for anything. He had finally eased himself in all the way, hips flush with the back of your thighs. He pushed your legs upward, toward your chest, and that only contributed to the tight, breathless feeling you were experiencing.

He gave you no time to adjust, sliding out painfully slow and burying himself back in you in one thrust, over and over. You were seeing white.

From there, it was just a matter of waiting, of trying to keep yourself from clenching around him. No matter how much you tried to stop it, however, you could feel that familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach. You realized, with a passive sort of dread, it was no use. You were already tensing, the feeling coiling tighter.

“Come on, I know you’re close, fuck, you feel so good-”

You let out a hoarse moan as Gus’ near-frantic pace sent you over the edge. Your back arched up off the desk, and the last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered closed was the satisfied grin on the sheriff’s face.

Gus kept fucking you through your orgasm, though you were unbearably sensitive and writhing under him.

“Oh, oh, fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna pump you so goddamn full you’ll be leaking my cum for days,” he growled.

That set you off in another panic; no condom.

“Please, Gus, not inside! Gus, please, I’m begging you, don’t fucking do this! You can’t!” you babbled, kicking and crying.

Gus’ twisted smile made your stomach sink.

“Why- why not?” he panted, watching how his cock slid in and out of you. “You’d look beautiful, all swollen with my baby.”

The man’s breath hitched, and you prepared for the worst, but he pulled out right before you saw his cum splatter your torso. Relieved, your body collapsed on the desk, well and truly exhausted. Between the gaping emptiness you suddenly felt and the close call, you could barely move, shuddering like you’d been dunked in ice water.

Gus called your name a few times before yanking you up by your shirt collar, untying your wrists and lightly smacking your cheek, bringing you back down to Earth.

“Told you I’d get you off,” he said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, almost fondly. You didn’t even have the strength to lean away. He tucked himself back into his pants, cleaned you up, and it was like it never happened.

A clock went off in the office somewhere, and Gus checked his wristwatch.

“Well, would you look at that. Time to clock out.”

You slid off the desk, not trusting your legs, flinching as he pulled your pants back up.

“You won’t be stealing anymore, right? Would hate to have to bring you back here.”

You swallowed, zipping them up. “N-no, Gus.”

“I could give you a ride home, if you want,” he said. Not trusting that smile of his, you politely declined.

Gus whipped out a key, unlocking the office door, and you stumbled through, yelping as he gave your ass a playful smack.

“Don’t get into any trouble, now!” he called out as you headed towards home. He watched you go, chuckling as he closed the door. All in a day’s work.

#ta-dah! *collapses* #gus gilbert x reader #no but this has been settin' up shop in the drafts for awhile #reed (umm) writes #sorry i made reader a bit of a crier: i figured more is /more/

[czarcarcosa-blog]

God Abandoned My Town

My grandmother used to take me to church every Sunday, and I grew up a devout God-fearing Christian. Now I find the stuff they used to teach me a load of bullshit. If God was real, he hightailed it far away from his creations when he realized how fucked it was. I felt more that way the closer we got to the two-year anniversary of the murder of Harris Briggs. A good kid, who was always polite when I ran into him with his Mama Mabel at the store. She and I went way back when we became friends in fifth-period chemistry back in high school. It was a damn shame how this town treated Mabel back then, and how they ignored her now. I don’t care what you think of a person. I believe Mothers shouldn’t bury their children.

How the boy named Harris Briggs died shocked the town of Cullman. His ten-year-old body spotted alongside a dirt road three miles outside of town by a farmer working a field. His legs broken, and there had been markings along his throat from where it looked as if someone strangled him. The coroner remarked that an unknown object had sodomized him before they ran him over with a large truck and then strangled the boy to end his life. It showed savagery that made the residents uncomfortable, but that passed. The police investigated and came up empty-handed with no suspects, many of us speculated that they did not give it the best effort because of Harris’s skin pigment.

Mabel visited the sheriff’s office every day for a year and a half. It did not matter how many hours she worked Mabel always took the time to stop in the office. She always asked for an update of her son’s case, which the deputies promised they were working on it. Mabel never believed the dense good old boys that Sherriff Watts always picked for deputies. She was right in her distrust for the boys in blue. I could often hear them complain to each other and talking of Mabel. They often said rude things in my earshot while drinking at the local bar.

“That stupid black bitch came in again today,” the deputies often said.

Even Sheriff Watts who I had the pleasure of being neighbors with tried to urge me to talk to Mabel. He asked me to get her to cool her heels and let his office do its job. That was until two weeks ago when his office announced that they were adding the Harris Briggs’ file to the unsolved case files. Mabel was furious, and it disgusted even me that Sheriff Watts announced it. Two weeks before the anniversary of her son’s murder they were giving up solving it. Placing his file where they stored the investigations of unknown cow tippers and vandals who defaced the local high school.

It was outright cruel in my book.

My grandmother taught me one thing though when someone you care for is in pain bring them something to eat. That way they don’t have to fret on cooking food themselves. I’m not much of a chef, but I prepared a nice casserole and re-heatable pork chops for Mabel because tomorrow will mark the day that Harris died. I packed the food in my car and prepared to drive into town towards Mabel’s house. As I entered my truck, I looked across the road to see Sheriff Watts raking the dead leaves from his yard. We waved at one another and I left.

I drove into town, the town residents were out and around preparing for the upcoming holidays, not a single one could give a shit for Mabel and Harris Briggs.

When I pulled into Mabel’s gravel driveway, I noticed a man I had never seen before walk out of her front door. He was an average-looking man, with thin lips and black pupils in his almond-shaped eyes. The thing that struck my attention was how neatly dressed he was, the man wore a dark gray suit with a black tie. His hair slicked back with lots of what I assumed to be pomade. He passed by my truck and gave a nod before walking on foot towards the street. I looked back to Mabel’s porch where she stood with a look of worry on her face when I exited the truck.

“I will assume he ain’t from a round here,” I joked. “no one in Cullman has a suit that nice except the shady lawyers.”

“Don’t pay him any mind, Car,” Mabel remarked. “we had a business arrangement to settle.”

“Well, I will mind my business,” I responded. “just dropping by to bring food to you.”

“Is it that god awful casserole you always make,” Mabel joked as she stepped off from her porch and gave me a hug. I couldn’t help it when I grinned at her calling me out for my grandmother’s shitty recipe. Which I ignore the instructions when I make it. She shook her head when I pulled the pan out of the truck to hand her.

“I promise you it’s better this time,” I laughed.

“You want to come in the house?”

“Sure,”

Mabel always kept a tight and clean house even though she was now living alone. I sat in her living room and looked to towards the wall to see the last picture of her son before his murder. He looked happy with a wide smile across his face. Mabel brought a can of beer and set it on the coffee table, I’m never a man to turn away a good drink, even before 3PM. I popped the can. It was when I noticed that Mabel had a gauze wrapped around her hand and there appeared to be fresh blood dripping from it.

“What happen to your hand?” I asked.

“Just an accident in the kitchen before you got here,” Mabel replied. “wasn’t paying attention while cutting tomatoes.”

“Looks nasty,” I said.

“It’s fine just needs to heal.”

We visited for a while as we finished our beers, the two of us caught up with each other keeping the topics light. I wanted to show Mabel that somebody in this town gave a shit for her, and that I was there if she ever needed someone. Mabel still looked worried, but covered it well with her chatting. When I headed out the door, she gave me a stern stare. “Car, you were always a decent man,” Mabel called out.

“Thanks,”

Mabel walked down her porch closer. “I need you to promise me something,”

“What’s that?”

“When you go home tonight, don’t leave your house when it turns dark,” Mabel replied. “just stay inside no matter what happens.”

“What is going on, Mabel?”

“Just promise me, Car.” Mabel begged.

I stopped and looked at Mabel; she had a concerned look. “Fine, I will not leave my house,”

I started my truck while looking at Mabel to nod farewell and head back home.

The sunset on Cullman around five as I sat back in my recliner watching college basketball. Mabel asking for me to stay inside after dark remains in my head as I sip my beer. I drink two more beers before the game finishes with the goddamn Wildcats winning. I’ve always loathed the state of Kentucky, my grandmother always said the only thing that came from Kentucky worth a damn was bourbon, and even then no one below their state line should drink it.

My stomach grumbles to the realization I had not had food today, even when preparing my casserole and pork chops for Mabel I had cooked nothing for myself. It limits my supper choices; I have little in the kitchen and my culinary skills are lacking. My phone rings in the living room as I walked back to answer it. The other end is Deputy Shelby, the most thick of the bunch that Sherriff Watts hired. “Car, can you go fetch the Sherriff for me?” Shelby asks.

“Come fetch him yourself,” I snarled. “or call his house because he is eating supper.”

Shelby breathed “We’ve been trying Car, he ain’t answering, and it’s an emergency.”

“Let me guess,” I snorted. “Otis escaped the Mayberry P. D now he’s running amok on the town square.”

“Becky found Jim dead in his shed,” Shelby yelled over the phone. That explains the emergency, a deputy lying dead in his shed. I did not care much for Jim, he was the rudest of the boys in blue. Jim was a well-known racist and off duty he drove his lifted pickup truck around the town with the stars and bars flying. The people of Cullman would not blink an eye of a deputy flying a confederate flag on his personal time.

“What happened to Jim?” I inquired.

“Someone snuck in when he was welding and took a flame to his face.”

“Jesus..”

Three loud shots interrupted my thought, it echoed across the road and field that separated my house from the residence of Sheriff Watts. The sound of a shotgun blasting.

Three loud shots interrupted my thought while blasts echoed across the road and field that separated my house from his residence. The sound of a shotgun blasting. “Shelby, send someone over to the Sherriff’s house there is gunfire!”

I rushed out of my house and went to my truck to retrieve my rifle and the two bullets I could muster. My ears picked up a few more blasts of the shotgun from my yard. When I ran to the house, I noticed from the windows that someone had ransacked his living room. His television was still on showing highlights of the scores from various games of the day. The door to the front of his house held meaning it was locked. My stomach was in knots, and I ran to the back door seeing the remnants of wood pieces on the floor. I stepped in the house; the walls riddled with holes and shotgun shells lying on the light blue carpet meant that Sherriff Watts put up a fight. The large dark red stains on the carpet further proved that point.

“Sherriff, you in here?” I yelled.

The only sound in the house was his television replaying the highlights of the Kentucky game, and my soft footsteps walking around the den. I looked around to see no sign of the sheriff when I glanced toward the hallway. The hallway had a streak of blood along the walls that lead to the back bedroom. My legs shook and my hands trembled when I grasped my rifle. “Watts, it’s me Car,” I yelled again.

The trail of blood ended outside the bedroom door. Someone left it cracked open as I took a deep breath before I stepped in. The amount of blood staining the bottom of the carpet outside of it was unsettling. I rested my finger the trigger of the rifle and stepped inside.

It was sickening.

The head of Sheriff Watts laid bare on top of a mountain of ripped flesh in a corner. His intestines circled around the room, with severed limbs lying around a bed covered in a pond of blood. The walls stained with splatters of his blood meant that this was personal for whoever had dismembered the town’s sheriff. I could feel the vomit rise in the back of my throat as I exited the room adding another stain to the light blue carpet. The sirens in the distance meant that moron Shelby had contacted someone to tell them something horrible was happening on my road.

The sound of breaking branches came from somewhere outside, someone else was still here and close by. The siren was approaching and getting closer as I walked to the backyard. There was a dim motion light pointing at the woods as I raised my rifle. The sound of branches cracking as heavy footsteps approached. My arms went limp from terror because the footsteps didn’t sound like anything I have ever listened to. That is when it showed itself.

The glow of its red eyes and the texture of its skin, a deep gray color covered in loose skin approached me. It stood up straight dwarfing me in height. It breathed heavily from the slits where a nose should be. Its mouth covered in yellow sharp teeth with little drops of blood pouring from its lips. It had antlers that reminded me of a grown buck, with jagged edges also covered in blood. It stared at me as it approached and stood in front of me, any last bit of bravery I had coming outside as an idiot had left. It left me helpless staring at it.

“Car, get down!” I heard a familiar voice scream.

My eardrums felt as if they would burst from the shots of Shelby’s pistol.

The bullets pierced the creature’s skin, and it did not even flinch. Shelby stood frozen as it walked towards him grabbing him by the throat to lift him in the air. The poor deputy kicked his legs and screamed in pain as I picked up my gun to help. I felt a hand grab my shoulder startling me as I swung the rifle behind me. It was a man standing behind casually; he wagged his fingers in displeasure. The man in the gray suit pushed my rifle down to the ground and pointed back to the creature and Shelby.

“I made a deal,” he said. “and I plan to honor it.”

“That thing will kill him!” I screamed.

“Do you want to join him?” he taunted.

The creature let out a thunderous roar and plunged its hands into Deputy Shelby. The sound of his tearing flesh made me vomit again. It tore his insides out scooping them out by the handful. The creature dropped the mutilated body to the ground and turned to the two of us. It froze me in place watching the creature. The man walked towards Shelby’s corpse studying it and picking up some of his dismembered body. “Our business is complete,” he muttered.

The creature looked at me one last time as I tried to hold my bladder. It doesn’t seem threatening as it gazes at me with its red demonic eyes. The black tie man walks to the woods and waves his hand for the creature to join him. It turns and follows him. That is when I noticed it and realized what the hell it was.

I spotted a stretched blood stained gauze wrapped around one of the creature’s hands. It was the same as Mabel. My weak legs finally gave out as I was on the cold ground on my knees. I could do nothing but helplessly watch as the man and Mabel disappeared into the darkness of the woods. That is when I knew it for sure.

If God existed he abandoned the town of Cullman.

#nosleep #horror #fiction #southerngothic #shortstory #gothic #creepy #creepypasta

[coledemort]

Broken Things (Bughead Fanfiction)

Notes: I would like to thank a number of people who have helped me along while I struggled to complete this fic: @strix - my wonderful beta; thank you Mila for sparing me some of your time and for editing this. Thank you for correcting misplaced punctuation, awkwardly placed words, and my grammatical errors. I cannot thank you enough! ❤️ I know I had a lot of mistakes, and thanks for putting up with me. You’re a gem! 💎; @elegantmoonchild - you were the one that pushed me to complete this when I was honestly so daunted by it, and I wanted to drop it entirely. You have the kindest and most encouraging words. I needed them at the time. Thank you! @paperlesscrown - Liz, thank you for pre-reading this, and for being so supportive of it! @livelovebughead for the aesthetic. 

SUMMARY:

When Jughead Jones was imprisoned in the juvenile detention center, he was bent on pushing Betty Cooper out of his life. This was the last draw that pushed Betty over the edge, and it took a toll on her mental state.

Disclaimer: I do not have rights over the characters, they belong to Riverdale and Archie Comics.

Trigger Warning: Depression, signs of PTSD, heavy angst ahead

Read story under the cut, or read on AO3 HERE.

Here is a place for broken things, and for things to be broken, where shards of glasses tickle on bleeding feet, wound after wound refusing to heal with every fresh insult to the little patches that are yet to break.

Betty Cooper stared directly at the ocean-blue eyes of the boy she was in love with through the thick, seemingly unbreakable glass. Slowly, she raised her hand flat against the surface of the glass, quietly urging it to break or disappear for she desperately wanted to touch his forlorn face as he sat on the other side of the god-forsaken barrier. She felt her heart break a million different ways in the split second that a tear escaped to his beautiful, dejected face. A permanent shadow cast on his profile, dark-rims encircled his perpetually tired eyes.

A moment passed where they just sat opposite each other, quiet; a thousand unspoken words pouring out of each other’s eyes. Both pleading with two very different reasons.

“Betty—” he croaked through the intercom, barely above whisper. “Please, don’t let me hold you back. You don’t have to keep coming here. Live your life, and be happy. You can even forget about me if—”

“Stop it, Jughead! Stop making these decisions for me. This is my life, and I’d decide whatever the hell I want with it,” Betty hadn’t meant to sound angry, but she was tired of this endless cycle: Jughead pushing her away — assuming that he knew what’s best for her — and she stubbornly clinging to the love they have for each other.

“Please, Jug. How many times are we going to keep pushing each other away?” she tried again, voice soft.

He averted his eyes, and Betty knew Jughead was struggling to keep up the stoic façade. He raised his eyes to bore a stare into her, and with a cold, steady voice, he said, “Until it sticks.”

“No,” she heard herself whisper to the intercom. And again, with more resolve: “No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, Jughead. I need you,” Betty whispered, feeling the tears escape from her eyes; stream after stream and she had no wish to stop them. She saw the effect they had on him, she saw the hesitation — she saw love and despair rolled into one.

“Betty, I want you to look at me and tell me that you are going to be okay. Because I can’t see you like this. I look at you, and see you crumbling to pieces right before my eyes. And I want to hold you, hold you tight until your broken pieces are all in the right places. But I can’t, Betty. I can’t. I am a goddamn mess, and I’m afraid that the more I hold on to you, you’ll just break apart and fall right through my fingers.”

Betty felt like she was drowning in the sea of despair, and she couldn’t tell him enough of her woes. She just looked at Jughead hard, and willed him to understand: “save me, save me. I beg of you, save me.”

She saw a shadow darken his eyes; he understood. Of course, he did, much like in the other times when nobody but him understood her.

“I wish I could give you more of me. I do. But I am not whole, Betty. I am a crumbling piece of shit who’s probably going to rot in this hellhole. I can’t put you through this,” he said while raising an arm gesturing to himself and then the tiny box of room that served as his confinement. “You’ve been through so much on your own, and I can’t add any more on your plate. You deserve better. You deserve so much more.”

Betty thought that the way this conversation had been going, he might as well have just impaled daggers to her heart, and that would still have been better.

She opened her mouth to say something, but a middle-aged man in pale-olive police uniform came out of the door from the far end of the sidewall, signaling them that the visiting hour is over. Jughead made an attempt to nod at the officer before he looked back at her again.

Betty felt panic rise from the pit of her stomach all the way to her throat, and she stood up quite suddenly, knocking down her chair as she frantically tapped the glass; weeping as she called out his name. But he couldn’t hear her. He stood up, eyes cast down as he turned his back to her. A silent shaking of his shoulders indicated that he, too, may be weeping. But she couldn’t confirm. Because from that moment, he didn’t cast a second glance back at her.

. . .

It was a particularly cold day in January when Betty climbed down the steps of the dilapidated one story building of the town’s juvenile detention center office. She looked at the high walls of the community, separating her from the inmates inside (minors that have committed some sort of illegal activity); high walls that separated her from Jughead Jones — quite literally and figuratively. She felt that familiar clenching in her chest, and the rush of air out of her lungs. She took a couple of deep, deliberate breaths, closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself.

She felt suffocated, almost like she was drowning; like being surrounded by water as she stood in the dark, deep waters and not moving at all. Betty has never known loneliness as profound and as encompassing.

It has already been a week since she last saw him. He told her to let him go then, but she found it hard to do as he had asked. The day after their last confrontation, Betty came back, only half-expecting him to meet her. It turned out that Jughead Jones remained true to his words. He refused to see her then, and the day after, and the day after that. Day after day, she came back, hoping that Jughead changed his mind, and that he would let her see him, but he never did.

His rejection the first time had shattered her heart. Betty went home and went directly to her room, not even hearing her mother, Alice, as she called after her. She curled on her knees, and let the steady stream of hot, anguished tears fall from her eyes, all the while convincing herself that it was going to be alright. That she and Jughead can walk their relationship back together. That night, she cried herself to sleep.

The second time, it left her a little bit hollow; and the void inside her had deepened each time, turning the sting of rejection a little more dull with every passing refusal.

So, today — on the seventh day, in the chilly twilight of the afternoon, just as she was about to set out on her now regular walk to the juvie, she caught a glance of herself in her vanity mirror. Betty stopped on her tracks, and looked hard at herself in the mirror. She found that she was faceless. She searched inside and found… an absence — a vast void of nothingness, a black hole devouring everything that fell within its orbit, until Betty herself became nothing. A hollow, hardened lump of nothingness.

Still, she trudged on. She was not about to give up. After all, she was Betty Cooper. Maybe, for Jughead Jones, the seventh time would be the charm.

At the end of the day, it was not.

Betty heaved another deep breath, as she reached the landing of the steps, snow tickling on the soles of her fleece-lined boots. She was always cold; and she found that she could not be covered enough to get warm, no matter how many layers of clothing she adds on. She started her walk home, and once in a while she noticed the barren trees lining the streets as she went. Everything was bare, empty, and covered in snow. She almost laughed wistfully at how similar she thought she felt.

. . .

It was that familiar feeling of free-falling; it went on and on until she thought she might not reach the bottom of it. But suddenly, without overture she was back on her feet and everywhere she looked there was fire. No one else was there, until she felt another presence. She turned, and she was looking at a pair of hauntingly menacing green eyes. His face was hooded, so Betty didn’t recognize who he was. He was pointing a gun at someone; not her, though — he was pointing at someone beside her. Slowly, she turned her head towards the direction to which the gun was pointing, and a gasp escaped her mouth as recognition finally settled in her. The hooded man was pointing a gun at Jughead Jones—

She woke up screaming, gathering the edge of her duvet to her chest, and she wailed and wailed uncontrollably. It was the same fucking nightmare everyday, for weeks now.

She thought she was done having these nightmares when the case about the Black Hood was put to rest. She was having them a few months ago, when the Black Hood was still on the loose, and she was constantly on the edge of jumping out of her skin because of the horrendous mental torture that he put her through. When the Black Hood was shot by Sheriff Keller, she thought that finally — she can have a peace of mind; that the world will be back to its pastel colors, and she can have late night shenanigans again with her friends at Pop’s.

The world did not go back to the way it was, however, and she did not go back to the way she used to be.

When Jughead refused to see her, she felt unmoored, untethered… she felt as though she was aimlessly drifting through a vast ocean and she didn’t know how or where to dock. He had become her anchor in the few months that they have been together. Maybe it was wrong of her to put that much dependence on another person, but it was such a natural thing to do, and so she did. It was fine at first, even when both of them were walking on different paths, she always had him to fall back to. Their relationship might not have always been smooth and happy — no, far from that; it went through countless of rough patches, it was marred with fractured communication and sheer fundamental differences — yet, they would always find a way to make things work. But now, he completely pushed her out of his life, and he refused to be part of her life. His love was the only thing keeping her together. Now, even that was taken away from her.

She was still clutching at her chest, rocking herself back and forth when she heard a familiar scuffling of feet coming from her parents’ bedroom. Any minute now, her mother would bang her door, run towards her, wrap her arms around her, and will start comforting her, whispering words like: it’s alright, baby, I got you. Sshhh… you’re fine, you’re alright. Everything’s okay. This is how it always goes down each night. It was like a routine, the same scene played round the clock like a broken record, always on the dot.

Her mother would continue to rock her, the effort is there — and Betty was thankful for it — but it didn’t help. After a few minutes, she would will herself to be reduced to quiet sobs, let her mother believe that she was calm until she would be tucked in bed. She would close her eyes, slow her breathing, and wait until her mother assume that she was asleep and leave her room. Except that Betty would not fall back into sleep. Falling back to sleep always terrified her, if it meant seeing the same nightmare. So, she would lay down awake, staring blankly at her ceiling until the early light of day becomes visible through the blinds of her window.

Her waking hours were no different. Her reality not better than her nightmares, really. Constantly, her thoughts were flooded with voices that clashed to drown each other out. It was never quiet.

That’s all she ever wanted really — quiet. But it never came to her.

Everyday, she would walk down their neighborhood and stop at the age-old playground, and sit by the swings. She would just sit there, staring at nothing in particular with her big, glassy eyes.

She would think of the snow, but the cold nipped at her resolve, she would dream of summer, but the heat consumed her now non-existent zeal. So, Betty would dream of the cold, dark ocean and imagine it swallowing her as she sinks underneath. In the arms of the ocean, she would find deliverance.

Betty had started avoiding her friends recently. She found that it took too much effort from her to even muster a smile for them. She hated seeing the looks on their faces: the infuriating pity and worry that never seem to leave their expressions whenever they see her. She hated when she sees them and everything seemed normal in their lives. It was as if nothing changed. She, on the other hand, she felt like she jumped on the other side of something she has yet to put her finger on.

It takes a lot of effort from her to even get dressed in the morning and follow the usual course of her day. It was just too tiring, and she was always, always exhausted. Living was getting too fucking exhausting.

And then it clicked — the realization finally collapsing on her like a tidal wave, and it terrified her.

She scrambled for her phone, and texted her mother, “Mom, can you pick me up? I think I need help.”

. . .

You are still and I am still, a mile and a lifetime away Fly to me where the ocean is real. I am no stranger to tragedy, but I know how good you are, I know how good you are.

Sometimes, it felt as if Jughead was talking to her through her memories; telling her to take care of herself, and to let go — to say goodbye.

She missed him. But more than anything, she realized that she missed herself. She desperately wanted things to be alright again. She wanted to feel. She wanted to be alive.

It was as if she has been asleep for so long, and she wanted to wake up — really wake up. She thought: each morning people get up, probably even before their alarm clocks start ringing, but life never truly begins until you yourself start to wake up consciously.

At last, she recognized that fact that something was wrong with (and in) her, and that she needed help. For weeks, her mother was suggesting she sought professional help. She was sick. She knew that now. Perhaps, even longer than she cared to admit.

She agreed at the suggestion of her parents that she be sent to a psychiatric institution in New York City — away from Riverdale, the town that held the ghosts that are haunting her. Far from the painful memories, far from the people she loved.

“Don’t worry, darling. Your dad and I will visit you every weekend,” her mother was telling her, cupping her face, as she folded some of her clothes in a medium-sized travel bag.

“Yeah…” she replied simply, for she could not think of anything else to say. She gave her mother a small smile, indicating that she appreciated it.

“You’ll be back here in no time. You just have to concentrate on getting better. I don’t wanna lose you, Betty” Alice said, ache in her voice evident.

Betty looked at her mother, and saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and her heart broke. She had been too lost in her own misery that she forgot that the people who loved her probably are hurting too.

She had to start her journey towards healing. She realized that she had to start walking the path where she falls back into her own self, independent of anyone else. She had to start living for herself. She had been too wound up with the idea of saving her town, protecting the people she loved — and it ultimately cost her her mind.

“Mom, can I go visit Jughead tomorrow? Before we leave for New York?” she saw how her mother hesitated, but there must be something in the way Betty uttered it that her mother only nodded in agreement.

She had to see him again, even for the last time. It had already been over a month since she last saw him.

They started the following day early. They were busy packing all her stuff to the family minivan, getting ready for the trip towards the city. Betty heaved a sigh as she took a long hard look at her house, a typical all-american house.

Everyone was gathered and huddled around her. Veronica, her best friend, was wrapped around the arms of Archie (her oldest, and other best friend), tears freely rolling down her face. She was telling her that she’d come running to her in New York to bug her, and that she will be awaiting her return. Betty almost laughed when she saw that Archie was softly sobbing too, her bulky log of a friend, was crying for her, and her heart melted at the affection these people have for her. She was loved. Kevin was also there giving her his biggest, and warmest bear hug, whispering, “I’ll keep tabs on all the gossip in town, and update you as soon as possible.” She almost rolled her eyes; instead she laughed and returned his bear hug.

Every single person she loved was there, everyone, except one. She tried to cast away the familiar ache in her chest at the thought of him.

Few minutes later, she was ascending the steps toward the juvie office, hoping that she be able to see Jughead.

He was already sitting on the other side of the great barrier as she slowly stepped into the visiting room. Something told her that he knew she was going away. Someone must have tipped him already, Archie most likely. She walked towards the intercom as if in a trance, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him.

She missed him. She missed him a lot.

He looked different — bones jutted out sharply on his face giving him a gaunt look that was not there as she remembered. The shadows under his eyes were more prominent than they used to (and they were already bad to begin with). He was more pallid and he looked thinner than he used to be. Still, he was the most beautiful human being she has ever beheld.

“Hey,” she muttered.

“Hey,” he replied.

For what seemed like an eternity, they just sat there looking at each other, drinking each other as if it was the last time that they will ever see each other. She wanted to hold him, be held in his arms… she wanted to press her lips to his, and feel warmth course through her veins the way his kisses used to make her feel; she wanted his touch all over her skin, and feel it burn alive the way it used to.

But she can’t — she can’t.

Instead, she said, “So, I am going away to New York, Jug.” I miss you

He took a moment before he replied, “Yeah, Archie told me,” she heard the pain in his voice, and she summoned every ounce of strength she had to not break down. After all, she was on her way to healing, she told herself.

As she allayed the forces inside her that seemed to be waging some sort of war in her chest, Jughead said, “I am so sorry, Betty” he said it with so much regret and tenderness, she totally lost it.

She let her tears tumble freely through her cheeks, and she sobbed uncontrollably. She saw him raise his hand flat against the surface of the glass separating them, as if he wanted to touch her — hold her.

“I’m sorry I am such a loser, a goddamn shipwreck. I was on a spiral, and I thought of how unfair life has been to me, and decided to just fuck it, and take the cards that life dealt me with. I was a fool, Betty. I know that now. I hope one day you can forgive me for all the hurt I put you through,” he said it tearfully, and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

She started to stand, but Jughead was quick to add, “I’ve been thinking — we could possibly live a hundred lives, but I wouldn’t know what to do with them. I realized, I’d rather have this one life, and make the best of it,” he paused to take a deep breath, and added, “I promise I am going to get better, be a better man. I have demons inside of me that I have allowed to roam freely for a time. But I know better now. When I get out of here, I’ll cut all my ties from the Serpents, and start over. If by then, you’ll still be willing to look at me, I’ll come for you, Betty. I’ll do everything to win you back.”

She searched his eyes and heard what he was not telling her. He loved her, that much was not changed. But everything else has changed.

“I am not the same person, Jug. I am broken. I still love you. But I have to start loving myself again. I have given so much of myself to you that I forgot to leave some for myself. When you pushed me away, you took a huge part of me with you, leaving me feeling like this hollow flesh, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never want to feel that way again.”

He said nothing, so she added, “Maybe we should learn to live separately this time, you know. It could be good for both of us. Maybe we should learn how to become our own selves again, independent of each other. One day, if we really are meant to be together, we will find each other again. Hopefully, next time, as better persons than we are now. Because at this point, God knows we might just destroy each other.”

She heard a noise behind her, and saw her mother standing by the door behind signalling that it was time for her to go.

She touched the glass one last time, and said, “Goodbye, Juggie.”

Jughead gave her a small smile, tears streaming down his face, and with strained voice, he replied, “Goodbye, Betts.”

. . .

Betty spent two months in the psychiatric wards. She had been on a couple of medications, and had gone through various therapy sessions. It wasn’t always easy; there were times when she would close back in on herself, and be back to square one. But she went on. After two months of therapy, her doctors decided that she can continue her therapy on an outpatient basis, and just come for monthly consults, while taking her medications.

Two months in, and she’s feeling a lot better, a lot lighter, and more… herself.

If there was one thing she learned about healing, it was that it does not happen overnight, it was not a sudden retraction of curtains and pouring of light inside. It is a gradual, painstaking process. She has been keeping a journal since the start of her therapy to monitor her progression or regression.

On one entry she said: healing is gradual; a painstaking process that requires you to remain true to your goal. You have to want to heal. Otherwise, you will never get to it. And you have to want to do it for yourself, not for anyone else. One day, when you are not even thinking of it, you will realize that without fanfare, all the weight and darkness you’ve held inside are long out of your doors. You wouldn’t even know when it happened, you just feel light inside, and the world is not such a bad place to be after all.

She came back to Riverdale, feeling like a renewed person. The dark clouds that have been hovering over her a few months ago vanished, and she was feeling a lot chipper and upbeat, and actually look it.

The first place she visited when she arrived was Pop’s. She was greeted by the jovial owner of the diner, devoid of any judgment and she started to proceed to her usual booth.

However, she stopped on her tracks when she realized that someone was already sitting in the booth: a boy wearing a basquiat-crown beanie on his head, one stray forelock perpetually hanging over his eyes. He was wearing his old gray shirt, and a faded jean sherpa jacket over it. He looked the same, but somehow still different. He was looking up at her, mouth agape, as if he could not believe his eyes. She saw his laptop before him, and assumed he probably picked up on his writing again.

She approached the booth, and said with the brightest beam she could muster, “Hey!”

“Hey,” he muttered after a moment, his eyes sparkling.

We were there, as so many of our lives before us had been. We found each other, again and again. Two soul shards that would not let the other go. From when we were first life-forged and into our next billion lives, I knew. I knew it. We will always find each other.

Fin.

#my writing #bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #jughead jones #betty cooper #writing #my-writing #broken things #bughead aesthetic