#I just think he gets sick of living on that knifes edge… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

punkshort · 8 days

Text

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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sundrop-writes · 1 month

Text

She Keeps Me Up

Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader

I'd fall to pieces if I went anywhere without her

Summary:

JJ is protective of you. When you offer yourself up as 'bait' to lure in an UnSub who is killing women of your type, she protests endlessly about it - but ultimately she can't stop you.

She can, however, possessively lay her claim on you when you get back from the ordeal with nothing more than a tiny scratch.

Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 3,100

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is pretty much pure smut (with very little plot); this is older/milf JJ and younger reader - the specific age difference is not stated, but the reader is mentioned to be the youngest person on the team; JJ is dominant and the reader is submissive; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; in the very minimal plot, the reader volunteers herself as 'bait' to lure an UnSub (that UnSub is hunting women with similar looks to the reader, but the reader's looks are not described in any way); (passing mention of rape - the UnSub rapes his victims); the reader ends up with a very small cut on her neck from the UnSub but doesn't get any other injuries from the incident; JJ is very protective of the reader; JJ is very possessive of the reader; lots of praise kink - JJ calls the reader 'good girl'; JJ calls the reader 'baby', and 'babygirl'; thigh riding (the reader rides JJ's thigh); JJ is fully clothed and the reader is naked; Mommy kink - the reader refers to JJ as Mommy; very slight manhandling (nothing beyond JJ's realistic strength/nothing to suggest the reader can't be plus sized); oral sex - reader receiving; edging (once - because JJ likes to play with her food); slight spit kink; undertones of humiliation kink; fingering - reader receiving; a lot of begging; implications toward overstimulation; and I think that's it?

A/N: I feel like I have to give credit to this amazing edit - this inspired the general vibe of this fic and inspired the song choice for the title. Dom Milf JJ got stuck in my head and I needed to write about her, and when someone requested thigh riding with Dom JJ, it all came together perfectly in my brain. This could be viewed as a version of JJ who never married Will, or this could be viewed as a situation where Will and JJ are poly and Will is totally okay with JJ and the reader's relationship (which is what's happening in my head, even though I didn't mention Will in the fic). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!!

...

“You did so good. Hey, shh. It’s okay. You did so good. You’re okay.”

It was still echoing in your mind - JJ’s firm, soothing voice speaking the words, along with the way she held you tight as you collapsed into her arms after the long, hectic night.

You had been the perfect bait to a killer that the BAU had been struggling to catch - a young, pretty face, exactly like all the other girls he had killed thus far. You were the youngest member of the team, a fresh face that perfectly matched the man’s type in a string of young girls that he had murdered and dismembered after brutally raping them.

Even though you had volunteered to help lure the killer out, JJ had been stiff-jawed and glaring at the mere suggestion of you in the presence of such a sick man. You saw it as a way to help, but all she saw was horrible flashes in her mind, images of you merging with the crime scene photos on the board, turning into one of the dead girls who had been killed so brutally. It kept flashing through her mind on a loop, taunting her. She was deeply against it, and spent the better part of the day trying to talk Emily out of it, trying to convince the team that there was some other way.

But you wouldn’t risk the lives of any more women. You trusted the team to have your back.

And even when the horrible man had held the knife to your throat, just barely cutting into your skin with it while the team rushed to capture him, you still didn’t regret it. So many more people would be safe because of what you had done. JJ had been there for you - holding onto you tight, and assuring you that you had done well while your chest racked with sobs and you struggled for breath.

There was a lot of paperwork to be done and technically they wanted you to visit the hospital to be fully medically cleared, but all you wanted was JJ. You needed some time alone in a quiet room instead of all the flashing lights, people bustling around, asking you questions, crowding into your personal space. She stayed tight by your side, her hand never leaving yours.

She barked at them in her authoritative voice when you gave her a sad-eyed look that told her you didn’t want to go to the hospital. The small cut on the side of your neck that had been inflicted by the man’s large knife was bandaged up with you sitting on the back of the ambulance and then JJ whisked you away from it all.

With you still shaking lightly, your muscles quivering with anxiety and your chest threatening more sobs - she knew that you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with your mind replaying it all, over and over again.

She knew exactly what you needed. (She always did.)

It wasn’t long before she had you alone in her hotel room, stripped completely naked while she was still fully clothed. She guided you to sit on her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed, the roughness of her clothes so perfect against your sensitive skin.

The lights were dim - only the lamp of the side table turned on, creating the perfect quiet atmosphere, making it feel like the two of you were the only people in the world. She had a firm, commanding grip on your hips with both hands, guiding you to sit with your thighs bracketed around her leg. You were soon sitting with the firmness of her athletic, muscled thigh stiff between your legs; nestled up against your hot, needy pussy as she firmly pulled you to sit on the fabric of her gray slacks.

You let out a loud whimper as she pulled you to fully sit and forced her thigh fully between your legs. She forced the muscled firmness right up against the naked, swollen lips of your cunt. You weren’t completely wet (yet), but you found yourself clenching down hard at the pure rawness of the fabric rubbing against you, the feeling of her nails digging into the flesh of your hips.

Upon instinct, your hands moved to sit on her shoulders, tangling into the mess of blonde curls there. You whimpered even harder at the feeling of her lips skimming along your cheek as she gently hushed you.

“Shh, shh.” She said, entirely confident and firm. “Good girl. You’re so good for me.”

Her nose brushed down toward your neck and her thigh flexed - you unconsciously bucked forward, scraping your pussy against her leg, creating a raw, perfect burning friction. A needy heat easily grew within you at a very fast rate, easily pushing out any fear or anxiety that you had about being attacked by that man, about coming so close to having your jugular sliced. All of it melted away from you with her grounding touch on you, with her breath fanning across your skin, with her familiar scent in your lungs.

“We’re gonna take it slow, okay baby?” JJ said, her soothing voice petting across you - like being wrapped in velvet.

Slow.

That word was usually your enemy.

But you knew that JJ set the pace, no matter what. She was the one in charge. If she ripped your pants down and demanded that you cum within a minute - then you were just a puppet for her pleasure. If she laid you out on the bed naked and played with you, teased you for hours and only let you cum for the first time when the sun was starting to rise - then all you could do was lay there, a sweaty mess, and let her have her way with you.

She was the commander, and you were nothing but her humble follower.

You felt hollow without her - always waiting for her command, waiting for her touch. And you could do nothing but accept what she had to give you.

“Yes, Mommy.” You squeaked out, sliding your palms from her shoulders, deeper into the softness of her hair, seeking more of that touch - more comfort.

“Good girl.”

It was that firm praise coming from the velvet of her voice that had wetness truly leaking from you now. You didn’t think that she could feel it through the fabric of her pants, not yet. But she knew you well enough, and she could see the tense of your thighs, the way your stomach quivered. She knew how to play you like a fiddle. And she was good.

So it was then that JJ dug her fingers into your hips once again, and began rocking you across her thigh - forcing you to move. She wanted you to begin riding her thigh in order to get off.

“Come on, baby.” She encouraged you, lifting her face from your neck to look you in the eyes - sharp, icy blue piercing through the dim lighting of the room at you, instantly making your gut twist. “Move your hips. Be a good girl for me. Come on.”

You couldn’t help but to follow the instructions, encouraged by her words. You moved your hips along as she guided you - already feeling pleasant warmth and tingling creeping up your spine, pooling in your stomach and between your thighs. With your swollen pussy rubbing against the fabric of her pants, it was creating a hot friction that was already driving you crazy. Your legs unconsciously widened, your body grinding downward, trying to get more attention on your throbbing clit.

“Patience, needy girl.” JJ growled, digging her thumbs firmly into your hips, making you moan out in pain at the sharp touch.

She guided you along in wide, languid strokes. She was forcing your hips to stroke back toward her knee, forcing your back to arch harshly before she brought you back to sit more upright, bringing your body closer to hers once again. It was a motion that put tingling heat through you - but it was a slow burn, rather than the fast, mindless pounding that your body was begging for. She was keeping you on a low simmer, forcing your body to warm up so slowly.

It was just like she wanted - slow.

You whined out with impatience, your hand grasping at her shirt while you bit your lip harshly. You were deeply resisting the urge to fight against her grasp in order to fuck yourself against her.

“Please.” You begged quietly. “Please, Mommy. I need it.”

“I know what you need, babygirl.” JJ told you, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You let out another pathetic whine, but conceded to her whims.

You closed your eyes to simply feel it, wondering how you would be able to cum like this. (Thinking that you wouldn’t.)

JJ continued to guide you across her thigh with determination and force.

You were getting wetter with each stroke, your body boiling in that slow burn, your thighs shaking every single time you were guided back enough for the stiffness of her muscles to graze your swollen clit. You continued on, your hips pushing deeper - knowing she wouldn’t let you break pace, pushing yourself down harder. You were simply enjoying the presence of her hands on you and the pure burn of her thigh between your legs as you bucked across her in those long, deep strokes.

“Please.” You started begging again. “Please, Mommy, please-”

“Such a needy girl.” JJ sighed - the tone of her voice almost bored - so light and airy, with none of her own lust showing through at all.

Though if you could have pried your eyes open for a second, you would have seen her icy irises almost completely chased out by her lust-blown pupils. You would have seen her looking at you with nothing but pure hunger - absolutely loving the show you were putting on for her as you became more desperate, as you stained her pants wetter and wetter as you went on.

“Mommy’s precious girl.” She hummed to herself.

You would have instantly seen through her calm facade. But you were far too distracted for that.

You were too caught up in your own head, too busy keeping up the long strokes of your hips for some friction on your cunt. You didn’t catch the wistful tone of her voice; you were too distracted to truly feel the way her thumb just barely brushed against the bandage sitting on your neck. You missed the way her eyes lingered on it - half glaring at the bandage, half glossy with unshed tears.

She was still burning with deep anger at the thought that anyone would be allowed to bring even the smallest amount of harm to something that belonged to her and still live. But she was also thankful to the high heavens that you had come out of the incident safe. So thankful that you were back in her arms.

“Mommy-” You croaked out again, your voice cracking with pure need, pulling JJ from her thoughts.

She shouldn’t be thinking of the filthy man who had almost hurt you. She should be thinking of ways she could bring you pleasure now - ways she could be thankful that you were still here, unharmed.

“Where do you need it, huh? Right here?” JJ replied, moving one of her hands to slot between your legs, just barely brushing her fingers against your clit.

This made your hips stutter, pushing toward her touch even more.

“Yes!” You breathed out desperately. “Yes, there! Please!”

JJ let out a gentle laugh, and this made you downright dizzy.

Before you could even comprehend it, you had been flipped onto your back - JJ taking advantage of the fact that your body was limp, lust-weakened and distracted. You were breathless as you looked up at her, now towering over you, so damn powerful with her hair billowing around her in a beautiful golden curtain. Her hands slid up your sides firmly while she leaned into you, pressing her knee into the naked rawness of your cunt - something that made you moan and clench your thighs tighter around her leg.

“Gonna give you just what you need, pretty girl.”

JJ rocked her knee against you a few times, enough to make you moan out brokenly. Before you could get any real friction from it, she moved away completely, leaving you breathless and even more needy.

And then, leaving your stomach flipping with anticipation - she descended downward, using a hair tie that she had around her wrist to put her hair into a messy bun before she positioned herself between your thighs. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she had in mind.

She took a hold of you by the backs of your knees and shoved your legs up toward your chest, bending you to her will. This made you vulnerable and open to anything she wanted from you as she dove in eagerly. The moment that her tongue made contact with your clit, you knew that you were done for.

(Like you always were exactly when she wanted you to be.)

“Mommy!” You cried out desperately.

Your back arched hard as you fisted the comforter of the still-made bed underneath you, quivering under her touch but unable to move as she kept you concretely in place. Her lips suctioning tightly around your clit and sucking for dear life, determined to make you cum as hard as possible now that she had teased you to this point.

“Fuck, Mommy! Oh, oh god!”

Your hip muscles quivered and you gasped hard, struggling to get air into your lungs as she furiously worked her tongue over you. The movements of her talented tongue causing sharp, hard shocks of pleasure to emanate out from that precious little point. It was all so perfect - the filthy slide of her spit mixing with your wetness, dripping down between your pussy lips, even gathering and dripping down along your asshole and lingering in a small puddle on the bed.

You were a mess - just as JJ wanted.

She dug her nails into the flesh on the backs of your thighs, making the muscles in your legs burn from holding the position. But you had nowhere to go, you could do nothing but sit there and take it as she sucked on your clit and tongued against you with vigor - giving you exactly what you had been begging for, making you mindless and dizzy as the pleasure became near painful in the most beautiful way.

“Mommy!” You gasped. “Mommy, fuck! Gonna-”

She cut off your words just as you were on the edge, pulling back with a wicked grin and just barely cutting off your orgasm. It made your whole body tense up in shock and caused your lungs to let out a shocked, disappointed whine. You bit your lip to keep from swearing or letting out any complaints - which you knew would only lead to a prolonged time before cumming with JJ in charge.

Instead, you stared at her with your best sad eyes, hoping she would take pity on you. She gathered a large glob of spit on her tongue and heaved it onto your clit, and the touch of this alone had your legs quivering harshly and caused you to let out another sharp moan.

“Please!” You began begging again, knowing that your voice was completely choked by desperation. “Please, please, please, please-” You didn’t breathe between the words, chanting with pure need until JJ shut you up.

“Shh, shh.” She hushed you, running her cheek along your inner thigh. “You need it that bad, huh?” She mocked you gently, and you echoed back a moan.

“Yes.” You confirmed, your voice warbling.

“Hey, look at me.” She hummed quietly.

Your head snapped toward her automatically, and then you were staring down those powerful eyes once again - greeted by her chin glistening with your juices, her messy hair half fallen out of the haste bun. Of course, she looked more gorgeous than ever.

JJ crept back up your body, letting go of one of your thighs and letting it relax, but keeping the other leg pinned up. She put her body weight against it now, putting your knee over her shoulder while she snuck her hand between your thighs as she leaned in to kiss you firmly. The taste of yourself on her lips was beautifully tangy, and you couldn’t help but to suck that taste off her tongue as she forced it between your lips.

She pulled away after a moment, pulling a moan from between your lips.

“Tell me that you’re never gonna do that again.” JJ whispered against your lips.

In your lust-wrecked state, you were confused.

“Huh?” You mumbled back.

“Tell me that you’re never going to volunteer as bait ever again.” JJ said, grinding out the word harshly. “You belong to me. And you need to be safe. So what I say - goes.”

Your pussy clenched at her words. You hadn’t realized how much you had truly worried her - how much you had upset her.

“I won’t do it again.” You murmured back, your voice partially lost in your throat. “I promise, Mommy. I won’t. I’m yours.”

JJ showed her satisfaction with your declaration by shoving two fingers into your well-slicked, wanting pussy. With no warning, she began pounding the digits in and out at a furious pace, sending your body into overdrive.

Still pinning your leg into place with her body, she moved her other hand down so that she could rub your clit in fast, hard strokes to make it all more intense.

In seconds, your pussy was once again throbbing, lit up and burning from the sensations while she fucked you hard and quick - driving you towards an orgasm at an intense, rapid pace.

You let out harsh pants against her mouth and her lips formed into a sharp smile, clearly pleased with herself for turning you into such a mess so quickly. She crooked her elbow so that she could fuck her fingers into you at a sharper angle - and it was only moments before you felt your stomach clenching up again, that telltale heat drawing across your thighs as your clit downright burned underneath her fingers.

“Please. Please, Mommy!” You begged, your throat scraping against the word now. “I need, I need - oh!”

She was actually feeling merciful this time, and continued to fuck you through it, finally bringing you to the orgasm that your body had been begging for all night.

But of course, she didn’t let up. She wasn’t going to stop there.

She leaned in and kissed you on the forehead, and you knew that you had a very long night ahead of you.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a standalone oneshot, and I will not be writing a follow up or a 'part 2'. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written. Also, please consider reblogging, because supporting fanfiction writers is important to keep fandoms going! If you liked this and you want to see more, definitely check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist for more of my work.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau headcanons #jennifer jareau smut #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader

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inklore · 9 months

Text

🩸 — 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍!

since the spooky season is fast approaching, and as a little kinktober appetizer, @psychedelic-ink and i have decided to do a little writing challenge to get us all excited and in the mood to be gripping the sheets from the spooky thrills of course.

and to keep this fun we have given you many many options! we have compiled a twelve day prompts list you can go by, or if that's not your thing we have listed twenty three different pick and choose options to create whatever kind of fic you want, even if you want to do half the days daily prompts but switch out this prompt dialogue for that au or trope or kink, you can literally do whatever your heart desires!

THE RULES.

the challenge will go on from the 19th - 30th of this month. you can do as many or as little amount of days as you choose.

any fandoms are welcome, literally any characters, ships, but please no rpf.

no minors should be interacting with let alone posting for this challenge.

dark content, light content, dubcon/noncon, is all welcomed but please tag everything accordingly. grooming, underage, and incest however are not allowed.

there are no word limits but please use that readmore.

tag #hauntedhoedown so we can read and reblog your work!

DAY ONE: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

DAY TWO: murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"

DAY THREE: inspired by your favorite lana del rey song (if not a lana fan then any fav song of yours) + stalker / yandere au or love triangle gone wrong

DAY FOUR: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

DAY FIVE: gothic au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.” + a masquerade au or a good ol' priest au

DAY SIX: animal shapeshifter au + "he's a monster" + "he's perfect"

DAY SEVEN: stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

DAY EIGHT: cosmic horror au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

DAY NINE: “do you like it when i bleed for you?” + the toxic exes trope or cult au

DAY TEN: zombie apocalypse au + "every moment might be our last, let's make the most of it."

DAY ELEVEN: black swan au or inspired by your fav psychological thriller + “they die for love, you kill for it.”

DAY TWELVE: vampire court au + "forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you."

if following the above isn't your thing and you want to pick and choose yourself that's great! we also highly rec this random generator if you wanna live life by the edge, each category has 23 options to pick and choose from so customize the generator accordingly!

AUs:

steampunk / cyber punk

fairytale retelling

revenge

mythology / monster

virtual reality

gothic

taboo (see great options here)

slasher

game gone wrong

witchcraft

addams family

bonnie and clyde

spy / secret agent

assassins

x-files

circus / carnival

hitch hiking

basement wife

time travel

urban legend(s)

american horror story inspired

vampire / supernatural

pirate / mermaid

DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

"do you like when i touch you like this? i can keep going if you want me to."

"i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it."

“this fear you feel? it won't last.”

“you are mine, whether you agree or not.”

“why do you keep following me?”

"i can't stop thinking about how perfect we would be together."

"you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

"i'm so close, can you feel it?"

"tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost."

"you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left."

"i want to see you bleed."

"they're dead...because of you."

“i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

“everything i've done.. every horrible atrocity, it's been for you.”

"it's just a little blood."

“don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

“i would burn the world for you.”

"this is so fucked up." "you like it."

"finders keepers."

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

"tell me you want me back. tell me i'm forgiven."

"you're a monster." "that's never stopped you before."

"i've killed for you, who else can say that?"

TROPES:

mob / mafia

soft!dark

dubcon / noncon

soulmate / fated mates

mind control / telepathy

cheating

final girl

once is not enough

haunted manor

dark academia

enemies to lovers

haunted object

vengeful ghost

coven

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

unrequited love

creation / creator vs monster

'i'll find you in every universe / century'

reverse harem

cursed / fuck or die

curiosity killed the cat

theatre phantom

fate worse than death

KINKS:

biting

corruption / authoritarian

somnophilia

begging

dacryphilia

breath play

knife play / blood play

jealousy / sharing / possessive

aphrodisiacs

hunter / prey

humiliation / degradation

mirror sex

deprivation / immobilized / bondage

costume

size

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

body worship

shotgunning / swallowing / facial

gagging

torture / surrender

hate sex / make up sex / phone sex

magical healing [redacted]

soft!dom / pleasure!dom

ETC PROMPTS:

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

1970s porno filming (turned into a blood bath)

touch her and die except who the hell are you and why are you obsessed with me?

a trip to the circus (or carnival) ends with you stuck there...forever

you just inherited this creepy mansion where people where murdered what could go wrong?

a ritual gone wrong and now i'm bound to a demon

if 'this person' ever found out about this they would kill both of us (literally)

oh no i'm dating the town serial killer

passionate professor tells me to prove my devotion to the craft / class by doing something insane

we're the last people on the planet and you will be mine

daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late

i got casted out of my world and ended up wounded and bloodied in your backyard, convince me why i shouldn't destroy your world out of anger

vampire has a taste for specific blood and looks like you have it

the creepy neighbor is too hot to be insane, right?

i keep seeing them in my dreams and i wake up with bruises and marks on my skin, it's definitely just wild dreams, right?

loving you is easier than hating you

got stranded in some little town that seems so cute, until night hits

'this person' ordered me to kill you but i actually think i'm in love with you

my lover is wearing the same costume as you and i can't tell the difference but i'm pretty sure it's them i'm fucking in this closet...pretty sure

confessing to a murder via a silly little ghost story around a campfire (but someone reads through the lies)

how far would you go for love? for the one you love?

in a past life you were the cause of my death so i'm here to exact revenge now that i've found you

we're at a fun little horror movie reenactment except people are really dying

we tried to make this writing challenge as fun and very 'choose your own adventure-like' as much as possible because we know how hard it is to stay motivated when doing these things.

so please feel free to use any and all of the prompts, tropes, kinks, etc as you wish. we're just super excited to see what ya'll come up with!!

so good luck and stay slutty spooky <3

#if yall don't participate in this i will actually cry lmao #haunted hoedown #writing challenge #kinktober #! challenges

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rosesfromslashers · 7 months

Text

Sickness - Eyeless Jack X Reader

Yup, I've been officially dragged into my old creepypasta phase. Enjoy some angst with a special appearance from everyone's favorite tentacle daddy.

He first encountered the being on a fall morning.

Jack left you curled up in bed, wrapped in his blankets and scent. He kissed the top of your head before departing, knowing that you were safe in your shared cabin.

He slipped into jeans and a simple black T-shirt before leaving your room for the kitchen, where he started the percolator. Jack hoped the smell of fresh coffee wouldn't wake you. The clock read 6 AM, much too early for you to be up. But he knew you would be thankful when he brought you a cup after you had awoken with a cute little yawn he loved so much. He picked his mask and book up off the table.

Jack slipped out the front door, not letting the screen door clatter shut for fear of waking you. The metallic creak was loud enough. The sky was gray beyond the gnarled, bare tree branches. The ground was covered in a layer of decaying leaves, patches of orange and red still hanging on. A gentle, thick mist was laid upon the forest. It was a cold day, perfect for staying in. But he had the urge to enjoy the fresh air; to feel that humanlike sense of tranquility you had instilled in him.

He sat on the wooden porch swing, leafing through the old psychology textbook until he reached the page he was on last night. Psychology was never his strong suit, and it especially wasn't now that he was cursed. Ever since meeting you, however, he found it necessary to understand the human mind as much as he did the anatomy of the body.

His mask sat beside him, just within reach.

It was a rustle in the treeline. Too quiet for human ears, but to him, it was as loud as a tree falling in the woods.

He shot up, slipping on his blue mask, a tar like substance having stained the plastic much like around his sockets. He reached into his back pocket to find that he had left his knife inside. Perfect.

He scanned the thick treeline, body tense. This was his domain. Your domain. And he would protect his territory.

There was nothing.

But he couldn't blame it on a mouse or a curious deer. There was a lightness to the air, as if the oxygen had been sucked up into the ether. Instead, the woods were filled with static, buzzing as if lightning were about to strike. Then he felt it - something trying to crawl into his mind. Trying to speak to him beyond the edge of his power.

"Jack?"

He turned to find you, wearing nothing but his oversized black hoodie, standing in the doorway. A little cough left your throat.

"Is everything okay?" you asked sleepily. Warely. "Why are you wearing your mask?"

Jack assured you everything was fine and ushered you inside.

The second time, it spoke to him.

He sharpened his scalpels, preparing for tomorrow night's hunt. You sat on the sofa, journaling in a notebook. It was a hobby you had recently taken up. One that he found ever so endearing. Humans lived such short, sad lives. He found it interesting how, in that short time, they tried so hard to document it.

He smelled the blood before it leaked from your nose and onto your upper lip.

"What the hell?" You stood up, dabbing at the blood. Jack rushed to you, concerned.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he fretted, dabbing at the blood with his hoodie's sleeve. It wasn't the first time it met blood, but never had it taken on yours.

"I don't know, it just started bleeding," you said, "I'm really tired, too. I think I'm going to go to bed now."

He could sense something was off with you. Normally he could smell, could sense, illness creeping up on you. You did look slightly ill, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was like whatever it was was hiding inside of you.

"Here, let me get something for you to hold to your nose." He ran his thumb over your cheek before going into the kitchen, pulling a clean rag from the drawer.

"Do you enjoy her company?"

Jack stopped. That same static feeling was back, but this time the air felt heavy with a presence.

"What?" he asked aloud, looking around the small cabin. He saw you in the living room, brows creased in confusion.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, it was something else, I think there's something here." he clarified, then he ordered you to go into the bedroom. And to lock the door. You listened, hurrying into the other room. He heard the click of a lock. The presence left, leaving the space feeling empty.

The third time, you threw yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, leaning over the toilet to gag.

He chased after you, holding your hair. He felt something he hadn't felt since he was human. Fear. True worry.

"Are you sick?" he pressed, placing a cold rag to your forehead. Your coughing had also gotten worse on top of your recurring nausea. For a moment, he got excited. It was early in the morning, and here you were getting sick. Could it possibly be-

No. He would sense it. Another life in your shared home.

Instead, he sensed carion.

That otherworldly thing was back.

"I- I don't know. I really don't feel good, Jack."

He pulled you into his arms, sitting on the bathroom floor.

The final time, he came.

Disrupted your home. Your life. Caused you to collapse to the floor, pale and unconscious. Blood had begun to leak from your nose as you crumpled. Jack was there in a flash, helping you to the floor.

"You never answered my question."

Jack looked up, and there he was. Tall next to your front door, donned in a black suit. Faceless. Hands clasped behind his back in a dignified manner.

"What are you?" Jack growled out. This wasn't another creature of hell, a demon come to taunt him and take you from him. This was something else. Something eldritch and ancient, commanding power. Power that a strong being like Jack wouldn't give it.

"Do. You. Enjoy. Her company?" the faceless being asked again, enunciating each word.

"Get the fuck out of our house," Jack demanded, low and quiet. "What do you want?"

"A simple question. You really don't know who I am?" The creature vanished, reappearing closer with a crackle in the air.

"No, and I don't care. Now leave us alone!" Jack's voice raised as he clutched your limp body closer.

"I have many names," the being continued, answering his own question, "I am the stalker of the woods. The disrupter of sanity. The taker of children."

Jack would've blinked if he still had eyes.

"And I know who you are, Jack. I've followed you for quite some time now, just out of the corner of your perception. I've admired your work."

Jack held you closer as the slender being seemed to drift nearer.

"I want you to join me. I have several mentees, none of your power. You'd be a valuable asset."

Jack's face twisted. "So that's why you're doing this to her? You're trying to recruit me to your little crew?"

"I don't know if I find your admiration for such a frail creature as a human charming or pathetic." Jack bristled at the insult towards you. How dare this… creature come into your lives, harm you, make you ill, and now come to collect Jack's cooperation.

He looked down at your closed eyes and bloody face.

"I can make it stop. Join me, leave this girl here, and we'll take our leave."

"Fuck. You." Jack retorted, pulling your head against his strong chest.

"I see my methods aren't working quite yet," the creature spoke into his mind, "I'll take my leave, but know that I will return. I don't take kindly to rejection."

Then it was gone, and your eyes were fluttering open.

"Jack?" you croaked out, "What happened?"

He held you tight.

"I'm still figuring it out."

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta x reader #slenderman

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yesimwriting · 1 year

Text

Final Girl - Part 9

Final girl Masterlist (all parts in order and extra fics, updated parts 1 - 9)

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: Nightmares aren’t that bad when you’re sleeping over at Stu’s house. Too bad no amount of late night movie watching and hot chocolate can cure a bad case of being on Gale Weathers’s radar.

----

The light glints off the knife’s edge so sharply the entire thing warps. The blade looks longer, then smaller, then larger. It changes with each movement of the person holding so much it’s fascinating, almost like a cartoon.

For a second it feels like it’s just that. Like I’m watching Scooby Doo or Nancy Drew or some other kids’ mystery show. Then the knife comes down.

I scream, snapping into the moment as I start running. Everything’s hazy, I can barely register how unfamiliar this place is. Branches are tugging on what I’m wearing, scratching at my face, but I can’t feel them. All I feel is the blood rushing in my ears.

Something cold and sharp digs into my shoulders. I’m thrashing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. My attacker forces me to turn. It’s him--the too familiar white mask, the permanent scream.

He lifts his knife and forces it down. My eyes shut as the blade meets my chest. The pain is a barely there flicker. It’s being drowned out by a tingling sensation that’s taking over my entire body. The feeling disconnects me from it all until my vision fades to black.

Reality returns quickly. My body is laying on something soft, my face pressed into something cushioned.

“No, don’t--” The words come out so tight I almost don’t recognize the voice. Billy.

My head snaps up. The dimly lit space looks like it should be Stu’s living room but something about it feels off. Like everything’s been flipped or something. I don’t see Billy until my mind reconnects the dots and refocuses.

He’s standing with his hands held out cautiously. His back is to me but I can feel his tension. Swallowing back my panic, I force myself to look in the same direction as Billy. That damn mask. Ghostface.

“Billy...” It’s a shaky whisper and I don’t know what I expect from it.

The helplessness washes through me. My eyes drop down, but that makes everything worse.

There’s a thick puddle staining the hardwood floors reflecting the low light of the room. It leads to a pale arm that leads to a shoulder that leads to what--oh. The realization that the mess of glistening red used to be a chest sends a sharp wave of nausea through me.

My gaze shifts up, catching eyes that should be familiar but are too hollow, too blank as they stare up at nothing. Stu.

I scream, my entire body shaking with the urge to get closer like that’d mean something. There’s another sound, some kind of grunt or cry--I don’t--I don’t know--and then Billy falls. First to his knees before slumping over. He lands on his side...next to Stu.

The killer looks up at me with a tilt of their head, they walk over my friends, but they don’t--they--

----

When the darkness of the room washes over me, I’m already sitting up. Not real. Not real. Not real. The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away and a type of sickness that hurts stays in my upper stomach.

I can hear myself panting, but I don’t feel the relief of air entering my lungs. My hand stretches over tangled sheets, a part of me trying to stabilize myself. Maybe that will make the nausea go aw--no.

I’m on my feet in a second, crossing the room to get to the door. Autopilot leads me to the bathroom. Wait--this isn’t my house--I fell asleep at Stu’s. They were both here--so where are they now?

My nausea spikes. I gag, moving instinctually onto my knees.

“Hey.” The voice feels far, I can’t grasp onto it. “Hey,” a warm touch on my back as my hair is pulled back. “You’re okay, angel.”

Oh. I try to breathe through my disorientation as I turn my head. “Stu?”

The amount of nerves in my voice must throw him off but I can’t make out too much of his expression in the dark. Just as the thought settles, the light flickers on and my eyes are squinting to adjust.

Stu moves to stand and keeps a hand on my arm to encourage me to do the same. I’m so stiff and the world is so hazy I don’t think, just follow. The same thing happens as Stu sort of extends me so that I’m in front of the sink.

Another arm is in front of me, holding a tiny cup between two fingers. The liquid is a sharp green. I take the cup before I really know what I’m doing. It smells like the heavy kind of mint that belongs in a dentist’s office.

I bring it to my lips and swish the mouthwash around for longer than I normally would before turning on the sink and rinsing. Such a small thing shouldn’t make that much of a difference but getting rid of the taste of acidic bile in my mouth clears my head enough to let me think.

My head turns in the direction of the arm. “Billy.”

Something clues him into my confusion. It could be the way I said his name or the way I’m just staring like he’s some sort of ghost. He’s trying to figure it out, or maybe he’s trying to piece together a reaction that’s appropriate when someone’s staring this much.

“Hey,” it’s said a little unsurely, “You’re okay. You’re--” His hand finds its way onto my upper back, moving in that circular motion that’s become familiar. It’s enough to let me feel okay about looking towards Stu again.

“You guys are--” I can’t get the words out, can’t figure out how to explain it. “You’re--you’re okay.” I can feel the shakiness in my voice but I can’t bring myself to fix it.

Again, instinct takes over and I pull Stu into a hug. He has to be surprised but he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze me back just as tightly. Billy stays close, his hand still on my back.

They’re both here, still warm and breathing and here. The relief is too much and it joins a flurry of other feelings.

I pull my head off of Stu, “Where were you guys?” I know that anger’s irrational, there are hundreds of reasons they could have both been up, especially since we didn’t fall asleep too late, but I can’t help the panic hiding as aggression in my tone. I try to pull further away, but Stu doesn’t let me. “I woke up and you guys weren’t there and I thought--” I’m not even sure if what I’m saying makes sense, but it’s coming up the same way the bile did, “You can’t do that--you--you left. You can’t just leave.”

“No one’s leaving.” Billy’s voice lacks the defensiveness I expect. “We were just downstairs. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water and Stu woke up, and you know how that is.” The attempt at a joke is appreciated, but I can’t bring myself to show it.

Normally, Stu not letting go when I try to push him off bothers me, but now I’m kind of glad he didn’t let me get too far. Something about having them this close is grounding. They’re okay.

“Yeah,” Stu hums, “Who’d leave you?” He says it so casually, so assured, like the thought of going somewhere would have never crossed his mind if I hadn’t said that.

It’s assuring in a different way, not quite getting at all of my panic. “I had a dream that--” The longer I’m awake, the more aware I am of how unnormal I’m being. That doesn’t mean I can stop it. “It was--it was so real, and then I woke up and you--”

They’re being quiet. I know that I’m being a lot and they’re probably still trying to figure out how to react to my panic, but it’s making me antsy. If they’d joke or tease me about this, I’d be able to convince myself that I haven’t fully lost it.

Billy smooths my hair back carefully. “We’re okay,” his voice is low, a little tight. “Everyone’s okay.”

I nod once, trying to convince myself that his certainty is my own. “In my dream--you guys ended up like--” It’s hard enough to mention her when I’m well rested and feeling together. “Like Casey.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Stu’s hold on me goes from fully relaxed to a little firmer.

Argument and doubt immediately bubble up. No one counts on dying. Casey was in her house. I got a call from the killer while home and they knew that Billy was locked out. The cops are still so lost Dewey wants to meet with me again to go over some details. There’s no reason for the killer to just go away...and from what they said the last time we talked, they’re not planning on it.

Stu places a hand on the side of my head, angling me closer with no warning. He places a quick kiss against my temple. I nearly jump before realizing what just happened. That was such a Stu reaction I can’t help but smile a little, even though I shouldn’t encourage him. “You’re cute when you’re worried about us.”

At least that’s the return of something normal. “You say that about everything.”

He breezes past my attempt at harshness, “Not everything.”

“You said it when you noticed that my history folder and notebook match.”

The corner of Stu’s mouth turns upwards, “Ah. The matching notebook-folders.”

I roll my eyes, regretting bringing that up again. He had asked about the matching thing so much I felt like he had to have been making fun of me. “I’m not doing this again, a lot of people color match their stuff.”

“And their sticky notes,” Billy mumbles. I turn my head enough to glare at him. He found me sorting my sticky notes by subject early into our friendship and so far it’s kind of been our secret. Not because it’s a bad thing, just a little type-A and make-fun-able. “Kidding.” Maybe I’d find him funny if I was better rested. He stares at my blank expression for a second, “Are you going back to bed?”

There’s a small chance I’ll never sleep again. I don’t get a chance to answer. Billy steps back, pulling me forward a little. We all walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. Before I can say that I really don’t feel like sleeping right now, Billy walks past the door to Stu’s room.

----

Stu pushes the mug so that it slides against the granite countertop. One of my hands wraps around the handle and the other presses against the ceramic’s side. The warmth soothes me as it leaches into my fingers.

“Thanks.”

He smiles a little, tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, “It’s the least I could do since you’re worried sick over us.”

Billy looks over at us, mumbling some response I barely register, “The least you could do?”

“Whatever, man, you kn--”

The block of knives is only a few feet away. I can only see the handles, the blades are hidden in the wood, but that doesn’t make it any less distracting.

Trying to force myself to stay in the moment, I stare at my mug, studying the giant, cursive London and cartoonish city line that wrap around the ceramic’s side. Big Ben is at the center, almost piercing the lettering. I almost ask about England, but decide not to risk it. Stu’s parents are always traveling. There’s a good chance he wasn’t on this trip. For all I know, the mug was what they brought back for him.

I lift the glass to my lips, taking a few sips. The hot chocolate is almost shockingly good. Perfectly balanced between sweet and cocoa-y. Even the whipped cream and marshmallows are paired so well it feels scientific.

“Y/n?”

I set the mug on the counter, eyes studying the deflating marshmallow lump. “Yeah?” Tearing my eyes away from the marshmallow mutant, I force myself to look up. Billy and Stu share a look. It’s brief, but it feels heavy. Like one of those moments where they slip away into their own world. Normally, when they do that, it’s more like being left out of a joke. This time it might as well as be a psychological assessment. Be more normal. "I’ve never had hot chocolate after 2 AM before.” I take another sip, “It’s nice.”

My recovery feels smooth, so I let myself look up again. Stu’s already staring at me. It’s the kind of focus that wouldn’t be suspicious from him if he’d make some kind of joke about it. Any kind of flirty comment would make it okay and cancel out the seriousness behind his eyes. “You’re feeling better, right?”

The worry is there, but pushed forward with such Stu-like energy that it almost feels more like a statement or request than a question. “A little.” I don’t know how true it is, but it’s easier to say that than admit how unsure I am. And maybe I’ll speak feeling better into existence. “Seeing you guys...knowing you’re okay helps.”

Ah. Sleep depravation is no joke because that’s something I’m definitely going to regret. It’s way too vulnerable and easy to make fun of. I stare at my mug until the quiet’s too much and I have to face what I’ve done. Stu’s not holding in a laugh or radiating a smugness that he’s given into over less. He’s still watching me, but it’s different, softer and more open. I set my mug down before looking over at Billy. His eyes dart down to the sink almost immediately.

My attention snaps back to Stu as he moves forward to place his hand on mine. “Look who loves us.”

I glare halfheartedly as Stu gently bends and squeezes my fingers. “Duh.” Like these two weirdos don’t already know. “I know it was cheesy, but given the circumstances, can you guys please not.”

“That wasn’t cheesy.” Billy’s voice is low, a little rough. “But the nightmare over u--”

“Shut up.” He’s smiling, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Sorry that I’d probably lose it if anything happened to either of you.”

Billy rests his weight on his forearms, leaning forward. The front strands of his hair fall forward as he angles his head towards me. It’d be so easy to extend an arm and push his hair back into place. “Probably?”

I use the hand Stu isn’t still holding onto to grab my mug. “You were mean about it. That got you guys downgraded.”

Stu tugs on my hand with just enough pressure to get my attention. “Hey, leave me out of whatever he says.” I roll my eyes as I take a sip of hot chocolate. “I’m a total sweetheart compared to grumpy over there.”

A burst of laughter tries to claw its way up my throat as I’m swallowing. I know what Stu said wasn’t that unbelievably funny, but something about oversimplifying Billy like that gets to me. “He isn’t grumpy.” I set my mug down. “He’s multifaceted.”

“Multifaceted?” Billy repeats, tone trying too hard to be more wary than amused for it to work. The failure makes me fight down a grin. I like the slips from his usual demeanor, not that Billy’s rough around the edges exterior is something I’d change, it’s just nice to see him relaxed from time to time. It’s also probably good for him.

I nod, committing to whatever bit I’ve accidentally started. “Like a house cat.”

Billy’s eyes stay focused on me, the corner of his mouth hinting at what’s close enough to a smile for me to count it as a win. He looks like he might say something, but then Stu snorts. Laughs in a way that has him pulling on my hand again. “You nailed it, angel.”

Billy tilts his head stiffly, still managing to glare at Stu. It’s still part of the joke, for now, and I need to make sure it stays that way. “So we agree, not grumpy.”

“Hm...” Stu pauses, scrunching up his face as if I’ve just asked him an incredibly deep question that warrants this much reflection. “He’s not grumpy to you because you’re pretty.”

Warmth rushes to my face and I don’t get why. Stu’s definitely said similar and much more intense things before. This comment shouldn’t be different, but he breezed out that last part so casually...like it was factual. “Shut up.”

Stu turns my fingers. “And you have this kicked puppy thing you do with your eyes that makes it not worth it.”

That snaps me out of any embarrassment. I try pulling my hand away, but Stu doesn’t let me get too far. “I do not.”

Stu squeezes my hand between both of his. “Yeah, you do, babe.”

I glare at him and Stu has the audacity to grin. The brief flash of teeth is a little too confident for my taste. He needs to be humbled. I turn my head enough to look at Billy. “He’s exaggerating, right?”

Billy’s expression is hard to read. “It’s just...your eyes.” No. They’re teaming up and turning on me. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Yeah, just what I need, another reason to seem like a cute little, doe eyed victim. It gets under my skin even though I know they didn’t mean it like that.

“Hey,” Billy’s voice is low as he leans a little closer, “We’re just kidding.”

I know that, which only adds to my irritation, because why can’t I just be normal?

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Stu tries, “You’re all big, bad, and scary.”

Stu drops his voice dramatically, and despite myself, I smile. It’s awful how funny I actually find some of the things he does. Sometimes I feel like I have the sense of humor of a middle school boy. Billy raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that screams we really choose to deal with this, huh? He picks a mini marshmallow out of the bag before I can fully react and tosses it at Stu.

The marshmallow bounces off of Stu’s forehead and lands on the counter. I laugh a little more than I should. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

Stu scoffs, picking another marshmallow. He throws it at Billy. The marshmallow bounces off of Billy’s chest and falls in front of me anti-climatically. “Fuck you.”

His reaction is half joking and half not, like a majority of his more aggressive comebacks. It’s always just Stu going along with it until he’s not anymore. Maybe I should try to say something calming or distracting, just to assure the preservation of the easy mood. But I can’t think of anything, so I just pinch the marshmallow that fell in front of me between two fingers and toss it in Stu’s direction. It hits his arm and falls onto the counter.

They both turn to look at me. The weight of their full attention takes me a little by surprise because I have no good justification for that. “What?” I shrug a little, “Everyone else threw one and I felt left out.”

Stu lets go of my hand, which is a little concerning. He leans back, leg moving forward to push against my seat. The barstool is the kind that swivels so he succeeds in turning me. “You’re lucky you’re cute or people would talk about how weird you are more.”

I push the front of my leg against his in an attempt to get my seat back into place. He doesn’t budge. “Right. I’m the cute, weird one.”

His lips part slightly and his grin feels a little surprised. That can’t be a good thing. “You think I’m cute?”

Oh my god. What have I done? “Hm. I don’t think that’s what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.” His leg shifts, moving so that he’s touching closer to my knee than before.

There’s a chance that I could turn away or push him off, but that feels like letting him win, so I ignore the warmth rushing to my faced. “That’s what you always hear.”

“I heard it, too.”

My head snaps in Billy’s direction. “Don’t encourage him.”

“If Stu had made it up, it would have been dirtier.”

They don’t need any motivation to make these kinds of jokes. I know that I should be smarter about this, commit to my annoyance, but I can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “You guys are the worst.”

Billy moves so that he’s leaning even closer. So close I can make out his individual lashes. “Really looks like you feel that way.”

His voice comes out low, a hint of rasp finding its way into his voice. The words are casual, a return of a joke. Nothing in them can justify the weird rush of heat to my face.

“Yeah, well,” this has to be a sign of sleep depravation, “Looks can be deceiving.”

He adjusts the weight resting on his forearms, “I believe you.”

The reply is a little flat, hard to get, but the underlying amusement is clear. Like there’s some joke I’m missing. “Shut up.” I push myself further back into my seat.

“I didn’t say anything.”

I pick up my mug. “You had a...vibe.” BIlly’s eyebrows draw together. “A making fun of me vibe.”

The corner of his mouth pulls upwards. “A making fun of you vibe?”

“You know what I mean,” I mumble, taking a sip of my hot chocolate.

He tilts his head, as if seriously thinking through what I said. “You sound like you’re tired.”

I knew we’d circle back to this eventually. There’s a good chance they’re tired. When they woke up in the middle of the night, they probably expected to go back to bed soon enough. “If you guys are tired, you can go to bed.”

“We sleep when you sleep.” Stu turns my chair so that I’m facing him a little more again. Great, add their sleep schedules to the list of casualties my new weirdness is responsible for. “Don’t worry, babe, I can go all night.”

Stu looks so pleased with the stupid joke that I give in and crack a smile. “You shouldn’t have to, though.”

His eyes lose some of their humor, softening in a way I don’t quite get. “I’ve stayed up for less important things.”

“He’s tried,” Billy mumbles dryly, looking over at me, “I’ll actually stay up with you.”

I grin, “Wanna draw on his face when he falls asleep?”

Stu lets out an offended scoff from the back of his throat, Billy ignores him, returning my smile. “Permanent marker.”

“Hey,” Stu pouts, “Don’t be mean, or I won’t tell you about my surprise.”

Hm...with Stu, there’s an 50/50 chance that whatever he’s referencing is weird. “Ominous.” His smugness does make me curious. “Okay--tell me.” Stu’s quiet for a second, a hint of smugness in the tilt of his head. I move my arm forward, softly shoving his arm. “Please?”

At that, he cracks, his hand turning over in order to grab mine. Stu places a kiss to the back of my palm. “Only for you, angel.” He then lets me go and stands. Whatever the surprise is, Stu apparently has to leave the room for it.

I blink, turning my attention to Billy, who halfheartedly shrugs. “There’s no telling with him.”

Definitely an exaggeration on Billy’s part, considering the way the two just get each other. It’s a bond anyone could pick up on. “As long as he comes back fully dressed.”

Billy faintly smiles. “Probably a 50/50 chance.”

Tapping my fingers against the counter, I turn my attention back to my mug. “I don’t know, he seemed a little excited.”

Stu comes back before anything else can be said. He’s holding out a VHS tape. Even though he’s still at the edge of the kitchen, I can make out a familiar red on the cover. No way. “You--”

He keeps an arm extended in front of me until the tape’s in reach. I take it and he sits down with a triumphant grin. “I know my girl.”

After I forced him to watch Clueless, I didn’t think I’d ever get him to do anything like that again. And now he just has it here, lying around on a night he didn’t even expect me to come over. He also didn’t pull it out for points earlier. If I hadn’t woken up, he might not have even mentioned it this visit.

It’s sweet and oddly thoughtful, especially coming from Stu. That fits him, though. When I least expect it, he’ll hit me with something like this. I grin, “Someone’s getting soft.”

“I can take it back.”

Gently tapping the tape against his arm, I look up at him. “Don’t you dare.”

The tape is pulled out of my hands. I turn my head in time to see Billy fully steal my weapon from me. “Before you kill someone.”

He’s joking, but the thought of their death is still fresh. My mind isn’t given a chance to latch onto the thought, because Stu leans forward and steals the tape back. “I’ll go set it up.”

Stu stands up again, walking towards his living room. I slide off the stool, ready to follow him. I only make it a few steps before feeling a touch on my shoulder. It takes me a second to think to turn. Billy’s standing closer than I thought he’d be. On anyone else, that natural tendency to move so quietly would weird me out at least a little. But on Billy, it’s just another thing to add to the list of cat qualities I’ll definitely have to mention later.

Or now, considering the way he’s just staring, hand still on my shoulder. “Hi?”

His thumb runs past the loose collar of the oversized shirt I’m wearing and over the base of my neck. “Hi.” Billy presses his lips together briefly, “You’re--” He stops himself, eyes flitting away from my face. “You’re okay, right?”

From him, the question isn’t so much an assumption as it is an almost nervous check in. Billy’s stiff, like he’s bracing himself for hurt. Whether that’s stemming from forcing the question out or concern over my answer or something else all together, I don’t know.

His eyes are focused on something just past me. Billy’s so tense I can feel it in his hold. He’s not squeezing me, but there’s some rigid quality to the contact that wasn’t there before. Whatever he’s thinking of must be heavier than what I’ve been feeling. I don’t know why, but I shift closer and pull him into a hug.

He lets me, eventually moving to place his free hand on my back. “I’m okay.” Billy’s surprisingly warm. “You and Stu just need to really try not to get murdered.”

I feel his exhaled almost laugh more than I hear it. “We’ll try.”

“Good.” The word comes out blunt and hard. I feel the tightness of it in my chest, aggravating the panic that took over earlier. Helpless and grieving and guilty. “Cause I’d--I’d lose my shit if--”

My hold on him tightens. I’m squeezing him so much it has to be uncomfortable and my face is pressed into his shirt even though I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

He runs his hand up and down my back firmly, assuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s no way of knowing that. My silence must get to him, because Billy moves his other hand near the nape of my neck, slowly forcing me to move my head away from his shirt. “Look at me.” It takes me a second, but I eventually find it in me to meet his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re going to be okay.” I sniffle once before nodding. “All of us, because you’re not the only one that could lose their shit.”

His tone comes out so hard it radiates an aggression that should make me feel worse. It doesn’t, the anger doesn’t make my throat feel tight like it normally would because it’s not directed at me. He’s watching me intently, hand shifting onto my collarbone as if he’s starting to regret what he said.

I nod again, a little more convinced because it’s hard to challenge Billy’s intensity. Almost impossible to not believe him, no matter how little control he actually has over the situation.

“Y-yeah.” My voice feels too small, too childish, like most of my actions tonight. His hand moves forward enough to get his thumb to brush against the pulse point of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you two graduate.”

I’m joking. Mostly. Billy lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll be around, so much you’ll be sick of us.” Again, another thing I want to believe just because Billy’s the one saying it. “If anything, you’re the one that’s going to break us up.” My eyebrows draw together as his thumb presses down a little harder.“Princeton, taking over the world...”

“You’re exaggerating a little.” All of that’s still a world away, and there’s always a chance--knock on wood--that I won’t get in. But the shift in his mood tells me that those maybes don’t matter right now. “You guys could come with, there’s a lot of stuff in New Jersey.” Ah--that was kind of a weird thing to say. I can’t just pack them up and take them with me. That’s not how the world works. “Or--y’know--you guys could just visit and I--visit--I can visit you guys, too.”

Smooth. Billy’s thumb drags down again, the touch regaining its comforting feel as he presses his lips together to fight down a smile. “Come with you?”

“Not like--” I have no one to blame but myself. “I mean--yeah, it’d be cool, and New Jersey’s probably a good place to figure things out...” He’s just letting me ramble, which has to be intentional because he knows how I am. Honestly, it’s a little rude that he’s forcing me to elaborate with so little sleep in my system. “Plus your super awesome best friend would be there.”

His smile eases a little more, “Super awesome best friend?”

“It sounds like something you’d say about me.”

He lets out a breath that’s definitely more amused than he wants it to be. There’s something about getting an extra smile or clearly suppressed laugh from Billy. It’s fun, like a game I’m forcing him into.

“That is how I talk.” His lethal levels of sarcasm take nothing away from my victory.

Billy steps forward. Instead of letting go, he moves his arm so that it’s around my shoulders. I’m kind of glad that he’s staying close. We walk to the living room together.

Stu’s head snaps up from the VCR. “Took you two long enough.” He tilts his head back even further before raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Leave me out of something fun?”

I roll my eyes, slipping out of Billy’s grasp and moving to sit on the couch. “Yeah, actually.” I relax into my seat. “We just hooked up in the kitchen.”

Stu jumps to his feet as I struggle to commit to the bit and not laugh. “Careful, angel.” He sits down next to me, so close our knees are touching as he moves his arm to get me even closer. “I might get jealous.”

It’s not really a threat when he goes there often. Sometimes joking, like he is now and sometimes actually annoyed, like the time I couldn’t go to the movies with him because I had already agreed to hang out with Sidney for the third time that week. But now’s not the time for that, so I play along, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The other side of the couch dips, Billy’s arm moving to rest on the back of the couch. “Ouch.”

There’s little harder than trying to keep them both equally happy. “Relax.” I relax further into the couch. “You know you’re both my favorites.”

“But if you had to pick a number one...”

I lift my hand, lazily swatting at Stu’s arm. The back of my hand barely brushes against his forearm. Stu moves quickly, grabbing my wrist before I can retreat. He pulls my arm towards him, slipping his fingers between mine. “Instead of starting problems, you should start the movie.”

“Bossy.” He lets out a quick tsk, reaching over for something on the end table next to him. The crinkling sound of a wrapper has my eyes following his movements. He holds the packet in front of him triumphantly. “Now I don’t think I should give you these.”

My sour gummies! “You actually have--” I reach forward with my free hand, but Stu pulls them back. “C’mon, you don’t even like them.”

“You were mean.”

He’s basically pouting, especially since I didn’t really do anything. But pointing that out won’t get me my gummies. “Fine. I’m sorry and you’re a treasure that I don’t appreciate enough.”

Stu grins, angling his head towards me. “That’s more like it.” He shifts his arm, pulling the packet open before handing it to me. I grin, happily taking the pack and popping a gummy into my mouth. Stu wrinkles his nose. “How do you eat those?”

I pick another gummy from the pack. He has to be exaggerating how much he dislikes them if they’re at his house. “If you hate them, why do you always have them?”

Stu shrugs, a movement I can feel against my arm. “They’re on the list, the house shopper gets them.”

I almost snort, nearly choking on the gummy that’s in my mouth. “I should make a list of all the rich people things you say.”

“Ask him the difference between a house keeper and a house manager.” That only makes me laugh more.

Stu glares past my head and at Billy. “Ask Billy about his family’s vacation cabin.”

This conversation belongs to a different tax bracket. “If either of you bring up skiing I’m leaving.”

Billy angles himself towards me in order to grab a gummy out of the pack. He squishes it between his thumb and pointer finger, exaggerating his skepticism. “That’s where you draw the line?”

I let myself sink further into the couch, “I’m being generous.”

“Mhm.” Billy shifts, moving his shoulder away from mine. I’m about to dismiss it as him being in a personal space mood when he rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against the collar of my shirt. “I believe you.”

The response is brushed over, but there’s a pinch of smugness there that would be easy to dig at. I’m pretty sure that if I were to lift my head, I’d see evidence of it. A sarcastic smile he can’t explain away or a hint of too much humor behind his eyes. But I’m too comfortable to go after it

With no warning, the other side of the couch dips with no warning. My eyes snap towards Stu. I frown. “Stu?”

“Just starting the movie.” His back is to me, but the grin in his voice is is audible. “Try not to miss me too much, sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles, face briefly pressing into Billy’s side as I cringe. “I think I’ll live.”

The upbeat music of Clueless’s opening starts playing. After a second, the couch shifts again. Stu pulls the now empty gummy packet out of my hand and place sit on the coffee table. He then sits down, closer than before, our legs touching. After my dream, I can’t bring myself to scold him. They’re both here, completely okay. I don’t even say anything when Stu pulls my arm towards him.

Billy lets out a breath that I feel more than hear. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, “You’ll hurt your neck.”

I roll my eyes. Sleep isn’t going to come back to me. It might not for a really long time, and there’s no way it’ll happen during Clueless. And sometimes Billy can be such a mom about things. It’d be more annoying if it wasn’t kind of...endearing to think of Billy as being a little bit of a secret softie. He likes to seem detached, but it’s all surface level.

“Fall asleep during Clueless?” I tilt my head up enough to look up at him. “Do you even know me?”

----

Narrator’s Perspective

Stu’s eyes move away from the screen and towards your face again. It’s been less than 10 minutes, so checking on you is a little pointless, but Stu can’t help it. Sure, you must be tired, but there’s no way--oh. Your eyes are shut and you’re completely still, temple resting against Billy’s side.

“She’s asleep,” Billy summarizes, not looking away from the screen.

Nodding absentmindedly, Stu keeps his attention trained on you. There’s a softening of your features that always comes when you’re asleep. He can make out enough of that easiness, but there’s an underlying quality that feels stiffer. Stu tries to convince himself that any inconsistencies with the pout of your lips and the set of your brow is a product of the low lighting or his own tiredness reading too much into things.

Your reactions tonight had been a surprise display of how well things are working. You’re all over them, you need them, you--He had never seen you like that. Most of it felt the way he imagined it would, but that relief was undercut by a different kind of tightness in his chest.

Stu runs his thumb over your knuckles. Billy sighs, finally turning his focus towards you. He smooths his thumb across your collarbone. “She’s fine.”

Stu presses his lips together for a moment. “Yeah.”

Billy manages to read that just as easily as he read Stu’s silence. He moves his hand to reach for Stu’s shoulder. “We want her needy, not broken. We’ll just ease off, no calls until she’s ready.”

“Yeah, she just--” There’s no way to say it without pushing at one of the lines they’ve both silently agreed to never mention. That moment in the kitchen when you slipped away, the blankness behind your eyes. It paralleled the way Billy gets when he gets into his head and disappears for a few days. The way he’s been for over a week. “You think she might need something?”

It’s an awkward thought to force out, Stu so skeptical of the idea it’s almost like it came from someone else. Therapy, psychologists, all of that mental fix-what-isn’t-broken bullshit has always been a sore subject. “Isn’t her mom a little...”

“Who gives a fuck about her mom?” Billy’s voice comes out more strained than he wants it to. Part of it is worry, part of it is the implication of motherhood and maternal genetics being that significant. “She--” There’s no real end to his sentence. What is it about you that makes Billy so sure you’ll be okay? Makes him so sure you have to be okay?

It’s not that you have that much going for you survival wise. You’re a good person, but that doesn’t mean much. Good people die all the time. You’re smart, but sometimes that just makes things worse. Billy lets himself mull over it, reflect on you and the way you made him feel when you walked in today. He decides then that you do have something going for you. “She has us.”

That admission serves as a sort of apology. “You and me. That’s all the help she needs.”

You shift against his side, still asleep. The way you held onto him earlier bubbles in his chest. It’s one thing for you to need them, another thing to think that they’re so fucked up they broke the one good, normal thing about them.

Stu frowns, noting the heaviness behind Billy’s eyes. It’s familiar, and now some version of that shadow that pulls Billy away from him is trying to take you. “We just won’t leave her alone.”

That might not be the best thing to say, considering that the closest they come to acknowledging Billy’s occasional slip aways is Stu’s extended presence during those periods. The implication that Billy needs to be looked out for the same way you do is also risky, something that could be taken too seriously depending on Billy’s mood.

A beat of silence, but Billy doesn’t stiffen or react to the implied similarities. “Until she snaps out of it, we don’t leave her alone.” They already spend an amount of time with you that’s hard to justify. Especially with the ever approaching grand finale of their plan. “I’ll need help with my history homework or get tickets to some movie, and when I’m not doing that, you’ll need help with an essay or be in a fight with your parents or--or anything.”

Letting go of your hand, Stu leans further into the couch and stretches his arm over the couch. He rests his palm against Billy’s shoulder. “Yeah.” There’s more he could say. A range of things, maybe a joke or two about your unexpected outburst of worry. “We’ve got her.”

Billy nods, the motion stiff as he avoids looking at either Stu or you. He’s used to Stu’s closeness, and your openness tonight did ease that part of him that always assumes anyone that matters is flighty, but it’s pairing itself with things he’s not used to. The combination is starting to make him feel off, uncomfortable in a way he can’t understand.

“We should wake her up.” Billy’s voice is flat. “Her neck will hurt in the morning if we don’t.”

Stu’s expression shifts to something a lot more smug. “I’ve got it.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Stu’s exaggerating in an attempt to bring back a more easy going atmosphere, but Stu’s definition of reasonably touchy is different than most. You’ve been through enough for one night, so Billy moves away. You let out an annoyed sound, trying to move closer to him in your sleep. He ignores the fondness that stabs at him and gently shakes your shoulder. Your eyes squint open.

----

The dimness of the room makes it hard to register the fact that I’m awake. It takes a second, but I get there enough to pull myself off of Billy’s shoulder. I straighten my back, ignoring the hint of stiffness I feel in my neck.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking at Billy and then Stu. “What?”

“So much for too riveting to fall asleep.”

Billy’s a little too amused by the fact that I briefly dozed off. “I was...barely out.”

The corner of his mouth turns upwards, “Then explain the snoring.”

I scoff, moving back to give myself some space to hit his arm. “I do not snore.” He raises his eyebrows at me and somehow that’s more insulting than if he would have pressed the argument. I turn my head to look at Stu, “I don’t snore, right?”

Stu takes my hand, squeezing my fingers. “It’s a cute snore, angel.”

Sighing, I pull my hand away from his grasp, ignoring his pout. “You are so just taking his side.”

He holds up his hands, “You’re adorable, but I’m neutral.”

Yeah, right. “Yeah, you’re Switzerland.”

“Someone woke up moody.”

Because I have no good defense and sleep is still making my eyelids feel heavy, I just glare in his direction. Stu chooses to retaliate by placing a hand on the side of my head and pulling me towards him, placing a kiss against my temple before I can tell him to knock it off.

Wrinkling my nose, I twist my arm back, trying to smack his chest. Stu lets go of my head and catches my open palm with an ease that’s a little insulting. He squeezes my wrist to his chest, head angling downwards. The light coming from the TV changes as one scene cuts to the next. The dimness seems to briefly lodge itself behind Stu’s eyes.

“You know you’ve played into my trap.”

Stu angles his head to one side, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He makes a silent point by lightly tugging on my wrist. “Really?”

“Mhm.” I straighten my spine instinctually, even though any height I get from that is useless. “I’m building your confidence, so that when I decide to attack you, you’ll never see it coming.”

He grins before letting out a laugh. I know that I’m joking, but again, being dismissed that quickly is a little rude. I’ve never given him any reason to think I could kick his ass, but it’s not that impossible. “When?”

I pull my arm towards my lap and Stu lets me go. “Shut up.”

“What? I’m on your side.” Right. “You’re a mastermind, angel.”

Billy sits up before exhaling. The sigh is low and brief but gives away how tired of us he’s getting. I can’t blame him, Stu and I are a lot to manage even when he’s well rested. “I don’t think you have to try too hard to build his ego.”

I smile, turning my head to look at Billy. “It’s not a complicated plan.”

Stu scoffs out a sound of protest before sinking further into the couch. “Fuck you guys.”

A joke about how he’s pouting briefly comes to mind, but I decide that I’m too tired to push it. Considering how little sleep we’ve all gotten, it’d be easy to pass the line between easy going teasing and into one of Stu’s actual moods. “We’re kidding.”

“Yeah,” Billy starts, and I already know it’s not going anywhere good, “You’re the most humble.”

Stu looks over my head to flatly glare at Billy. “Hysterical.”

Despite Stu’s annoyed expression, there’s something about the exchange that’s so familiar it feels easy. Lighthearted despite potentially sharp edges. It’s the specific energy that’s usually associated with a specific group. “You two argue like an old, married couple.”

That shocks Stu enough to make him forget any potential argument. His expression blanks as he turns his head down sharply to look at me. Whatever he finds in my amused expression makes him laugh. “Yeah, like I’d tie myself down to Billy’s sorry ass long enough to grow old together.”

Billy scoffs, and even that feels in good humor. “Like I’d be able to put up with him that long.” The words are dismissive, Billy’s tone bored, but I don’t miss the way he glances over at Stu.

“Please,” Stu mumbles, pushing Billy’s arm from around the ledge of the couch before leaving his hand there, “You’d be lucky.” Stu scoffs out the sentence, but again, there’s something warmer lurking beneath the surface.

It’s hard not to smile at the hidden in plain sight display of fondness. They really do get each other. I don’t know what’s shifted in the two seconds of silence, but I can practically feel them disappearing into one of their silent exchanges. It’s weirdly cute, but it’d be cuter if I wasn’t sitting between them during it. My position feels like it’s highlighting how out of place I am.

Stu’s arm moves off the back of the couch and settles on my shoulders. “Who’s too good for who, sweetheart?”

Yeah, there’s no way I’m even giving that a joke answer. “I’m tired, not stupid.”

He frowns, “You’re no fun.” Before I can respond, Stu adjusts his hold on my shoulder to angle me a little closer to him. “I get it.” To his credit, Stu is whispering, but his voice is still loud enough for Billy to hear. Definitely on purpose. Stu angles his head towards me, leaning closer in order to pretend that this next part’s the real secret,“We’ve got to keep Billy’s feelings safe.”

Billy lifts a hand off the back of the couch and flicks the side of Stu’s head.

Even though I’d have to crane my neck awkwardly to look at Billy, I can feel him shrug. The motion briefly brings how close the two of them are to the front of my mind.

“Ow--man, what was that for?”

I laugh, the sound too sudden and loud for this time of night. Stu might take that the wrong way, but I can’t help it anymore than I can help the way I slump into the couch.

“Okay.” Billy sounds a little like someone speaking to a child resisting nap time, but does nothing to get me off of his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again.”

The thought of going to bed isn’t appealing, but I’ve complicated enough things tonight. I peel myself off of Billy’s shoulder and he keeps an assuring hand on my back. Stu follows along, standing up first and then making a point to hold onto my arm like I could fall without his support.

We walk up the stairs almost exactly like that, hovering close together like kindergarteners on a field trip. It’s reassuring as we get to Stu’s room, helping me fight against the lingering anxiety from my dream. I focus on that as I force myself to sit on the edge of the bed. They’re fine.

Billy lays down on the same side he was on before. When I don’t move, he turns enough to nudge my shoulder. I take that as a sign to force myself to actually lay down. There’s no good way to justify the nerves. I fell asleep earlier and nothing bad happened.

“Nothing’s going to happen.” The sentence is forced out and mumbled in a way that doesn’t fit Billy. It feels so hesitant I almost convince myself that I imagined it.

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, moving so that his arm brushes against mine, “Everything’s okay, angel.” He pulls my hand towards him. “Promise.”

Still not the kind of thing that can be guaranteed, but I want to believe them. I nod even though it’s too dark for either of them to see. The motion is more for me, anyway, an attempt to force myself to agree. Things are okay for now, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for the lingering sleep in my body to come back, dragging me under before I can overthink anything else.

----

Sunlight speckles the darkness behind my eyelids. It’s not an overwhelming brightness, but the change is jarring enough to wake me up slowly. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, a little disappointed that the hazy feeling in my head doesn’t go away with the movement. Lack of sleep, I guess.

I blink, turning my head to check on Stu. He’s still asleep, partially curled onto his side. It could be because of how energetic he is while awake, but Stu’s sleep always seems so full. My head turns in the other direction. Billy’s still, eyes shut, but something about his position feels stiff. I frown, making a point of only studying him out of the corner of my eye even though his eyes are closed. I wouldn’t put it past him to just know.

Billy turns a little, the motion controlled enough to pass as something someone would do while asleep. He lets out a small sigh, another thing that could or couldn’t be sleep. “You’re up.” It almost sounds like an accusation.

So he was awake. Knew it. “So are you.”

He squints his eyes open. A few strands of hair fall forward as he angles his head to look at me. My eyes lock on the way they brush against his forehead. I squeeze my hands together, weirded out by the fact that I think it’d take less effort to push his hair back into place than to not, that it’s taking any effort to not fix.

“Did you sleep okay, at least?”

The question surprises me more than it should. Billy may seem like the kind of teenage boy that’s too cool for a lot of things, but every once in awhile something a little softer slips out. A bit of a mother hen quality that likes to hide under a thin layer of snarky concern. I’d point this out, but I’m attached to our friendship.

I prop my head up. “Yeah, I slept okay.” And I don’t even have to lie to say that. After lying down, it took no time at all for me to fall asleep. An all consuming, dreamless sleep, which is all I wanted. “You?”

“Okay.”

Hm. That was a quick answer. He seems fine, but the shadows under his eyes have been a little more prominent than usual lately. That paired with the glimpse of what I saw yesterday has to be worth noting, right?

My eyes drop to the comforter. “You um...” I press my nails into the fabric. “Yesterday, I know I totally freaked, so I might sound a little hypocritical, but when I got here...you didn’t seem...” Ugh...there’s no good way to say this to him. It’s easy for him to twist things in his head and I don’t want him to feel attacked. “...Like you.”

It’s only been a few seconds, but the silence expands something between us. My nails dig into the plush comforter even harder to distract myself, but it’s not working. I have to look up. Billy’s expression shifts from overwhelmingly blank to something a little harder when our eyes meet.

“It’s just been a long week.” His tone is casual enough, but it’s missing what makes him familiar. “My dad’s on me about grades, senior year...”

Billy did not just try to pin everything on his ‘senior year’. The realization that he’s probably lying, or at the very least, not telling me the entire truth, tries to crawl to the front of my mind, but it fails. It doesn’t matter.

“Whatever it is...” I take a deep breath, “If you ever want to talk about it more, or just...need anything...”

His eyebrows pinch together, eyes taking their time passing over my face. I don’t know what he could possibly be looking for in my expression. He must find it, because he eventually looks down. “Trust me, if I ever want to have a feelings talk, you’re the first person I’ll go to.”

There’s a hint of teasing in his voice that makes it easy to smile. “I get it...” Billy places his palm over the back of my hand. “I’m all mush.”

“Eh,” he tilts his head, playing into the joke as I roll my eyes. He shifts so that more of his weight is resting on his elbow. “You’re nice.” The shift in tone is sharp enough to give me whiplash. “You care about people.”

I keep my eyes on our hands. “You’re nice, too.” He might not be aware of it, but he’s a lot kinder and more careful than people give him credit for. He’s always there when I need him and he always tries to understand. “You’re a good friend, so if you--”

“I’ve seen you get worse over a math test.” Technically true, but that was a complicated situation. It wasn’t just the math test, it was the morning after the Ghostface attack and then I found photos of the Becker’s yard printed in a copy of the newspaper abandoned in the bathroom. But I have reacted pretty dramatically to less than ideal grades before.

Billy’s hand grips mine with a little more pressure than before. “Yeah,” I mumble, already regretting trying to push.

He sighs, “I’m okay.”

Billy relaxes his hold on my hand. “Yeah,” I nod, “Guess I’m just a little overprotective.”

“You like me that much, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Eh. You’re okay.”

His eyebrows draw together in exaggerated offense, “Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast.”

He lets go of my hand and moves to stand in an attempt to make his threat seem more genuine. I push myself to sit up fully, “You know how to make breakfast?”

Billy’s already approaching the door but he turns his head enough to glare at me. “I’ve never set off the fire alarm.”

“That was one time.”

He dismisses my defense by opening the door. I push myself off the bed, looking over at Stu. He’s still out. “He’s fine, he’ll wake up when he’s hungry.”

I focus on the even rise and fall of his chest. Stu’s face is pressed into his pillow, one leg still covered by his blanket and the other kicked out, dangling close to the edge of the bed. At least one of us knows how to sleep.

“Yeah,” I agree, walking towards the door, “He’s lucky we’re too nice to draw on him.”

Billy looks back at me as he steps onto the stairs, “He’s lucky I don’t have a pen.”

I laugh. “Maybe we can find one.”

The part of the living room that’s too far away from the windows to reach a decent amount of sunlight is still illuminated. An artificial glow catches my attention. I guess no one turned off the TV last night.

I walk towards the TV, crossing my legs beneath me as I sit down. It takes a second because of all the extra buttons on the control panel--rich people TVs should have instruction manuals taped to their sides--but my eyes eventually find the off button. I press it and all the TV does is turn staticky.

“The tape’s still in there, you need to turn off the VCR first.”

Makes sense. I mess with the buttons, turning the whole thing back on and starting over. Billy waits near the couch as I manage to turn the VCR off because after a second, regular cable starts playing. I hit another button. Instead of powering off, the TV switches to another channel. Before I can press anything else, a voice catches my attention. “The police department still has no leads on the crime that has rocked this sleepy community almost a year after the still unsolved murder of Maureen Prescott.”

“Isn’t Gale Weathers that journalist you yelled at?”

Ugh--that’s how I know her. "I didn’t yell.” I stare at her focused expression as she stares down the camera. “I just made my thoughts on her journalistic process clear.” She’s wearing a suit that’s as vibrant as the one she was wearing when I met her at school. “Also my thoughts on what she was wearing.”

The studio lights reflect against her gingery red, blonde highlighted hair in a way that’s unfortunately put together. “She’s kinda pretty, I guess...” Her getting-the-story-at-any-cost personality is something I’d admire if it was directed at anyone else. “For someone that totally sucks.”

“Which is why I’m still pressing forward with an updated version of my book detailing the two crimes, the suspects, and the most recent piece to the complicated puzzle--the sole survivor of the Becker Case.”

Oh, there is no way she means--

My yearbook photo flashes onto the corner of the screen. “Local high schooler, Y/n L/n.”

Blood rushes to my ears. Something warm and assured squeezes my shoulder. Billy. “Y/n?”

The floorboards creek beneath the weight of even footsteps. “Thanks for--” The grogginess in Stu’s voice disappears with the rest of his original sentence, “What happened?”

I finally connect with my body enough to pick my jaw up off the ground enough to form a sentence, “She put me in her fucking book.”

----

a/n billy and stu when the traumatic thing they do is actually traumatic: 😦

also we’re about to get into the gale arch! yay!

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe

thanks for reading!! <3

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly! ghostface x reader #final girl fic

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ievaxol · 2 months

Text

fire lick these bones

“You fool.”

Francel tries his very best not to let the exasperation bleed into his voice as he carefully drapes a thick blanket over Haurchefant’s shoulders. Haurchefant grins broadly in response and fails to grasp Francel’s hand when he tries; a sure sign that he is more affected than he should like to admit.

His dear friend had been near collapse when the search party finally found him, stubbornly wading through snow drifts in the direction of Camp Dragonhead while muttering about endurance and duty. It took three men to carry him inside Francel’s sitting room where he’d been thawing out ever since with Francel fluttering around him, caught between stark rage and blinding fear.

“More the fool if I were to abandon my calling!” Haurchefant slurs, his body wrecked by shivers.

Francel clucks his tongue and adjusts the blanket with a critical eye, keeping up appearances despite the unease churning in his gut. He knows all too well how important the knight’s calling is to Haurchefant — he just wished that the man would not be so reckless in serving it.

The conversation has been had a hundred times before though. He already knows what the man would respond. Bastards can’t afford not to be reckless, Haurchefant would say with a glint in his eyes, Francel on of few he’d speak that candidly with. A knight lives to serve and must always strive to better himself, especially so when faced with disadvantage right from the start.

“I’ll feed the fire and make you some tea now that you’ve warmed some,” Francel says, preparing to leave when Haurchefant finally manages to grab hold of his hand.

“Francel, you’re my oldest friend.”

Haurchefant’s bright eyes soften at the edges. He’s still smiling — always smiling — and for some reason Francel cannot discern he doesn’t want to hear whatever it is he’s about to say.

“And I’m honoured to be,” Francel replies carefully.

A terrible premonition lurks at the edges of the room, hiding in its shadows. He thinks of the boy who plunged a knife into the chest of a bandit to save his life and finds that even if he tries to pull his hand away from Haurchefant, the knight holds him fast.

“Do you ever feel like you’re about to run out of time?”

Francel looks away from him.

“Don’t — that would be the hypothermia speaking, Haurchefant. Let’s get you warmed up and back en route home, don’t you agree? Don’t say such things. There’s plenty of time, isn’t there?”

Haurchefant’s fingers twitch around his hand as he ponders Francel’s response. It envelops his the same now as it did back then; strong and sure in its grip. Little by little Haurchefant lets go of him, slumping back in the armchair with a nod.

As he kneels to tend the fire Francel thinks about the things he’s heard of the Warrior of Light, dread curling bitter and sick behind his teeth. He fears that this time it will not be a simple bandit Haurchefant needs to defend a friend from and in front of the flames he shoots a prayer to Halone;

Don’t take him from us, oh Fury. Don’t let his time run out just yet.

(anyone remember this drabble from over a year back? this is a reworked version of that one. it was a lot of fun to do!)

#rambles #mine writing #francel de haillenarte #haurchefant greystone

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cecilysass · 10 months

Text

Pause (4/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Clothes I Died In

Scully sleeps exceptionally well in Mulder’s mysterious new bed.

So well that by the time she wakes up and sits up, bright white fingers of light are reaching across the room. Each finger is shot through with the glitter of swirling dust motes. This room needs to be cleaned, and badly.

Lifting her head and looking over the laundry and books scattered across the room, she finds herself again looking for the woman’s green sweater, the one lying on his bed yesterday. She wonders what Mulder did with it. It had vanished last night after he changed the sheets, and she imagines he must have stuffed it hastily into some drawer. Why did he hide it? Who does the sweater belong to?

She closes her eyes again. Mulder’s bed is comfortable. His sheets are soft and high quality, probably very expensive. It seems a significant step up from sleeping on the couch, and she can’t help but wonder what would have caused such a change. Cracking her eyes open, Scully trails her fingers over the smooth gray pillowcase.

Last night, before sleeping, she had burrowed her nose into the pillow experimentally after all. His distinctive scent wasn’t there; the sheets he’d put on the bed were too clean. She had simply turned over, feeling needy and ashamed.

His clock says 9:36, rather late for her usual sleep habits, at least in her apparently out-of-date memory. She leans her head back and forth side to side to stretch her neck and listens for a moment for any sounds in the rest of the apartment, but it seems quiet.

She contemplates getting up and taking a shower, but she’s discouraged by not having any clean clothes to change into. Right now she is wearing an old faded Quantico tee of Mulder’s, but she isn’t sure how many more items of clean clothing she can find in his apartment, much less those that can be sensibly worn by her.

She flops back down onto the pillow, closing her eyes again for a moment. As long as she stays here, she doesn’t have to go out there and face the reality of the situation. She doesn’t even know how to talk to a Mulder who doesn’t think she’s Scully. Or to encounter a world that has accumulated three additional years she can’t remember.

From his living room she hears the distant sound of a knock at the door. Scully sits up like a shot.

She hears the metallic clicks of Mulder unlocking and unlatching.

Who could it be? Who would he be letting in? She feels the sense of nauseating vertigo again, a little knife’s edge of fear that he might have betrayed her and called someone to take her away, to apprehend her as an impostor. She doesn’t hear anything clearly right away, and then she hears voices, speaking quietly.

“…very confused, very upset. The memory gap I told you about. But no, I don’t think she’s lying.” Mulder’s voice, hushed.

“Well, I want to see her. Right now. I’ll know if it’s her.”

It’s a whisper, but Scully recognizes it. Her mother’s voice. She clenches the comforter tightly, trying to hold back her full reaction. She wants to hear what they say.

“Maggie— I just don’t want you to… you have to remember this is very possibly not real. A convincing illusion. I don’t want it to be… painful.”

“I’m not a delicate flower, Fox.”

“I know, I know. It’s just it’s… so goddamn…” His voice drops down into a mumble and Scully can’t hear.

“Oh Fox,” her mother’s voice says, intense. “You aren’t a delicate flower either. You’re going to be okay, no matter what, you understand?”

More mumbling. “… And it will be just like it starts all over… I just don’t know if I can…” His voice is so broken.

“No. Nonsense.” Maggie says something else quietly that Scully can’t hear.

“She doesn’t know…” His voice drops away again. “…nothing about that last year, nothing about—”

“I understand, Fox.”

“…not really her.”

“You need to let me see her.”

Scully is already scrambling out of bed, sick with anxiety. She looks around for her jeans from yesterday to pull on under Mulder’s tee-shirt, and is just pulling them on when she hears him knock on the bedroom door.

“Hey,” he says through the door. “Are you awake? Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she says, rapidly finger combing her hair, although she’s never before worried about looking especially polished with theses two people closest to her in the world.

He steps in the door, closing it behind him, and she notices that although he has on his pajamas pants and a tee-shirt, it doesn’t look like he’s slept much at all since last night. His face looks more haggard, not less, and the eggplant-colored half moons under his eyes more pronounced.

His eyes fall on her clothes. His jaw sets.

“What?” she says, looking down. “Oh, I borrowed your shirt. I had nothing to sleep in.”

“I noticed,” he says shortly.

“I’m sorry,” she says, taken aback by his reaction. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s fine.” He rubs the back of his neck with a low sigh. “Your mom is already here. I called her this morning—I thought it better be me that broke the news. It’s kind of a shock. She’s eager to see you. Are you ready to talk to her?”

Scully nods, her forehead creased. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

He regards her. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course,” Scully replies pointedly, her voice lowered. “I want her to believe it’s me. It will hurt if she doesn’t.”

Her eyes land on his face in time to see the shadow move over his features, and she regrets saying it. She doesn’t understand the full story yet, why he is so convinced she is dead. But she can hear the raw suffering in his voice as he talks to her mom. Whatever he has been through, maybe she should tread more carefully.

“Yeah,” he says with no expression. “Well, let’s go see what she says.”

Every muscle in Scully’s body tenses as she comes out of Mulder’s bedroom. Her mother sits straight and expectantly on the edge of his couch, and hops up right away when Scully walks out.

“Mom,” Scully says, her voice very small.

Her mother’s hair has more streaks of gray. She wears silver earrings Scully has never seen before, but the silver locket around her neck is recognizable: it’s one Scully bought her a few years back for Christmas.

Maggie Scully’s hand is clasped tight over her mouth, her knuckles white. Her eyes are saucer wide, fixed on Scully’s face.

“Hi, Mom,” Scully tries again, stepping forward.

Her mother makes a stifled sound. She’d told Mulder she wasn’t a delicate flower, but she looks fragile, like she is made of fine bone china.

“I know you’re shocked,” Scully says. She wants to come across as calm, as certain, but her smarting eyes are already betraying her. “I just can’t explain any of this rationally, except to say I’m somehow here. Alive.” She wipes the beginning of tears away impatiently.

Maggie, her hand still pressed over her mouth, takes a step towards her, her eyes now rapidly moving up and down Scully’s body as though she is taking in every detail.

In the background Mulder paces back and forth like an animal in a cage.

“It’s just hard to prove I’m myself,” Scully continues, her voice unnaturally high. “Do you want to ask me any questions? I can answer questions about when I was little if you want. About San Diego. About Charlie. About Melissa.”

Maggie removes her hand from her mouth now and blinks, her eyes wet.

“Please ask me anything,” Scully says. “I want to show you that I’m—”

She stops when Maggie reaches out and touches her shoulder, her fingers making contact through the fabric of Mulder’s tee shirt.

“It’s all right,” her mother says. Her voice is gentle. “It’s all right.”

Fear chills Scully. “What do you mean, Mom?”

“I see you, Dana,” her mother says. “I know it’s you.”

Her arms stretch outwards, and she folds Scully into a compressed embrace, so tight Scully can barely breathe. At first Scully is too shocked to let herself relax, still too taut with anxiety. But then she feels her muscles relaxing, her body sinking into her mother’ familiar arms.

This shouldn’t feel so good, Scully thinks. It’s so simple, the most basic of human interactions. Being known.

“Oh Mom,” Scully whispers. “Oh thank God.”

“That’s my line,” Maggie says, laughing a little, her voice muffled in Scully’s hair. “It’s a miracle. That’s the only possible explanation.” She pulls back to look at Scully again, pushing strands of hair away from her daughter’s face, her eyes wet.

“I hate not understanding what’s happened,” Scully tells her in frustration.

Her mother smiles rapturously at her, cupping her face in her hands, holding her cheeks so firmly she will probably leave handprints.

“I’m sure you do,” Maggie says, her voice thick. “But — we've thought for all this time that we’d lost you. This is just so wonderful. It’s … unbelievable.”

Scully remembers, then, about Mulder, who is now standing in the doorway to the room watching, gripping the door frame above with his hands, his expression tense and tight.

He sees her looking at him, and he smiles a small, closed-lip smile.

“Unbelievable,” he repeats. His tone of voice gives very little away.

***

Scully doesn’t observe it out loud, but she notices that Maggie stands at Mulder’s stove making scrambled eggs as though she has done it many times. She has brought the ingredients for breakfast with her, correctly assuming he will have nothing, but she sets to work in his kitchen like it is second nature.

In Scully’s memory, her mother has been to Mulder’s apartment maybe 2-3 times for visits of very limited duration — to pick Scully up when she was sick, to drop off something Scully needed before a trip out of town. Maggie has never, in her recollection, been in his kitchen.

Mulder and her mother have seemingly become much closer since her supposed death. That idea unnerves Scully, and she isn’t sure why.

“You cleaned up, Fox,” Maggie had exclaimed as she started setting out ingredients. “All the dishes are washed.”

Mulder, sitting at the dining room table with his head in his hands, had looked up and given Scully, standing in the kitchen doorway, a quick, significant look.

“I washed them last night,” she’d admitted to her mother, strangely guilty. “I was anxious and needed something to occupy myself.”

“Must have been quite a job,” Maggie had said in wonder. “But it looks so much tidier.”

“Yeah,” Mulder had said. “It does.” He rose to join Scully and Maggie in the kitchen, barely looking at her as he walked past. He’d eyed the counters of the kitchen warily, like it was a room that had been ransacked.

Now, as Maggie euphorically updates Scully on family news while moving around making toast and frying bacon, Mulder and Scully watch her, standing awkwardly side by side with cups of coffee in their hands.

“Tara has been talking about bringing Matty and the baby out here for a visit,” Maggie says, lifting slices of bacon from the pan to a plate covered with a paper towel. “I wonder if now they would consider coming sooner rather than later. I know they’ll be over the moon when they hear you’re back.”

Scully hears something that sounds like a tiny sigh coming from Mulder. It stokes a hot flare of anger in her. It’s one thing for him not to accept that it’s her; it’s another for him to begrudge her mother’s acceptance, her family’s joy.

Maggie doesn’t seem to hear him at all. “Do you mind cheese in your eggs, Fox? I know Dana likes it.”

“Cheese sounds good,” Mulder says dully.

“Bill might be able to get some leave and come, too,” Maggie continues, pushing the spatula around the pan. “It would be so good for him if he could. You have to understand—it was just so hard on him. The funeral, I mean.”

“Hard on Bill?” Scully says, more disbelief than she intends.

“Yes,” Maggie says. “Oh, he didn’t behave very well. Very poorly, in fact.” She turns and her eyes briefly fall on Mulder, who is looking intently away, his face stone. “But it was hard on your brother.”

Scully nods slowly, absorbing that information. There are so many questions she wants to ask here that she hardly knows where to start. There is so much that is strange about this. But it seems logical to start in the most obvious place.

“How did I die? What were the circumstances?”

She senses an uncomfortable shift in Mulder’s body adjacent to her. Her mother is facing away, dividing scrambled eggs between three plates, each crowned with buttered toast and several slices of bacon. No one responds for a moment.

Maggie turns around with heaping plates, handing one to Scully and one to Mulder.

“Let’s sit and discuss it,” Maggie says.

Sitting at Mulder’s dining room table requires pushing aside some of his piles of mail and papers, but they manage to clear a place for their plates. Mulder sits across from Scully and Maggie sits next to her with her own plate and cup of coffee.

Maggie’s eyes flash up expectantly to Mulder’s, holding a few seconds. He just stares back, his face a closed door.

Maggie turns to Scully, squeezes her arm.

“It was a Friday,” Maggie says, after a moment. “You had taken off work that morning. We had breakfast together, the two of us. Bagels at my house. We went to get our toenails done. A pedicure. We—we hadn’t seen each other in a while, and we were catching up…on everything. It was nice.”

Her mother’s voice is calm, but Scully notices that her hand, as she lifts her coffee cup to take a sip, is shaking slightly. She doesn’t even want to look at Mulder across the table. In her peripheral vision she sees his head angled downward.

“You were leaving my house to drive over here. You and Fox… had somewhere to be in the afternoon.” Maggie’s voice wavers a little now, too. “You were worried about being back in time.”

Abruptly, Mulder stands up, his chair scooting back with a screech.

“Fox,” Maggie says soothingly. “Fox, it’s okay. She’s right here. Eat breakfast.”

“Your car was hit,” Mulder says gruffly. “By a driver who had started the weekend early and ran a red light.”

“And you’re sure it was—” Scully begins.

“It was your car.” Mulder’s voice is short. He sounds almost angry. “There was a body to ID. It wasn’t especially recognizable, but … you had on the clothes you’d been wearing. Your cross necklace.”

Scully hasn’t thought of her necklace. She reaches up to feel for it around her neck, but she feels only bare skin. “I’m not wearing my necklace now,” she whispers. She’s troubled by this realization, that she hasn’t noticed her necklace’s absence.

“Yep. I noticed that,” Mulder says flatly. He sits back down, picking up the piece of toast and taking a determined bite.

“So possibly someone was faking her death, Fox?” Maggie asks. “Wanting you to think she was dead? Trying to convince you with the necklace?”

If that is true, thinks Scully, then where have I been since? Who kidnapped me? Who has been keeping me? Why have they returned me now? What has become of my memory?

Mulder shrugs a shoulder, taking another bite of toast. “I guess that’s a possibility,” he says. “But something more messed up than that is happening here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her clothes.” He swallows his mouthful. “She showed up yesterday in the same clothes.”

“The same clothes as what?” Scully says sharply.

“The pink tee-shirt, the jeans. The sandals,” Mulder says. He slows down his bites, looking down at his plate. “It’s what you were wearing that morning. When you went out with your mom. When I went to ID you.”

Scully puts down her fork. “Oh.” She looks at her lap, at the jeans she is wearing. She imagines Mulder going to identify her body, the body that wasn’t especially recognizable. That idea makes her want to throw up. “The clothes I died in.”

“You didn’t die,” Maggie says firmly. “You’re here.”

“Wearing the same clothes,” she says. “After a year has passed. That’s disturbing—like someone is intentionally sending a message.”

She isn’t sure why she keeps looking up at Mulder when she knows it will be painful. His coldness is like a small, sharp knife continually rooting into her side.

“Exactly,” he says.

“You think I could be a clone? Like the Samanthas?” Scully says, somehow keeping her voice steady and professional. “That’s your theory?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don't really have a theory. But something is wrong here—with this situation, with you.”

Another little rotation of the knife. Scully wills her face not to react.

“Fox,” her mother says, her voice very soft and pleading. “Fox.”

“Why does your memory stop in 1998?“ He seems to be lost in thought. “That seems significant. If someone were trying to … recreate Scully for whatever purpose. Why wouldn’t they recreate her memory until closer to the day she died?”

Maggie’s lips purse, and she sips her coffee with a tiny scowl. Scully can tell she doesn’t like this doubt being cast on the reality of her daughter’s miracle resurrection. Mulder doesn’t notice, staring at his food pensively.

“What happened immediately after I was stung by the bee?” Scully asks.

Mulder looks startled. “You were infected by a virus. Kidnapped. Taken to Antarctica. I found you there in an alien craft, gave you the vaccine, we escaped before it flew off.”

Scully frowns, overwhelmed by the epic, unbelievable scale of this story. By the casual way he describes the drastic steps he took to save her. She glances at her mother, who seems unperturbed. Perhaps she’s heard this whole elaborate tale before.

“Wait.” He tilts his head. “But that could be it. That’s when they last had easy access to you. They could have had an opportunity to tap into your memories then. They could have extracted them somehow— made some kind of back up, which they could… reinstall into another model.”

The twist of the little dagger again and again, deeper and deeper. The volume of her heart increases, until she hears it thumping in her ears like she is in active danger, like the dagger could hit her heart.

“Fox,” protests Maggie again, more firmly this time.

“That could be why you only remember up until that moment,” he continues. “It’s all of Scully’s memories they had access to.”

Her hurt makes her feel venomous. Mean-spirited. “Or maybe,” she says in a careful tone, “it was a decoy Dana Scully you rescued from Antarctica. Maybe it has been a clone of me with you these past few years, and I’m actually the original.”

Those words find their target. Direct hit. His face twitches, then shuts down all reaction again, but she can see a crease in between his eyes. She knows he is seriously considering the possibility of what she’s said, and that he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all.

“In any case, I’ll go home with my mom after breakfast, Mulder,” Scully says frostily. “I think it would be best. It obviously bothers you to have me here.”

He looks up, and she sees something like surprise and sadness in those familiar green eyes. As though he hasn’t really realized how horribly he is behaving. That quickly hardens into resignation.

“I don’t think you can do that.” He rubs his temples with his thumbs. “We don’t understand enough here. You could be… there could be something dangerous at play here. I think you should stay here for the time being. And limit going out.”

Scully again feels tears spring to her eyes. “Am I under guard?”

“No,” he says. “Nothing like that. This is about being careful until we understand more.”

“And how exactly will we understand more?“

“We’ll run a DNA test. It won’t tell us much if you’re a clone, but maybe there are other genetic indications we can look for. We can have the rental car checked out.”

Scully nods bitterly. She doesn’t like the idea of being a prisoner in Mulder’s apartment, having to come face to face with his painful aloofness. But at very least she needs him as a partner, as an ally in looking for answers.

“Was there anything else on you yesterday that might give us more information? In your pockets? On your body? Anything that could be construed as a message?” Mulder asks.

She shakes her head. “I had my keys with me. Were those found on my body?”

Mulder and Maggie exchange looks. “As a matter of fact, no,” Mulder says. “We were told they were lost with the car.”

“I had no holster, no ID,” she says.

“You weren’t armed when you left that day,” Mulder says. “You had the day off. You had a purse, but it was returned to us.”

“I do have a cut on my left hand. I suppose it could be some kind of defensive wound, although it’s in an awkward location.” She extends her hand to show him the thin red line.

Mulder, sitting across from her, squints at the cut. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s on the inside of your hand, closest to you. Hard to view it as a defensive wound.”

Suddenly Maggie’s hand clamps over her wrist. With wide eyes she lifts Scully’s hand closer to her face to examine it. “It’s a cut from a bread knife,” she says softly.

“How could you know that, Mom?”

“Because I saw you do it.” Maggie shakes her head disbelievingly, still staring at the hand. “I swear I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“That morning, the morning you died, you were cutting your bagel at my house, holding it with your left hand and slicing with your right. We were talking, and you cut yourself. It bled… you told me bagel cutting injuries were surprisingly common in emergency rooms.”

Scully pulls her hand back to look at it with her pathologist’s eyes. It is in the right place for a bagel slicing injury, and it is the right size to have been produced by a bread knife.

“But it can’t be the same cut,” Scully says. “After a year? Anything that minor would have healed long ago. That’s not possible.”

Mulder doesn’t move, staring at her hand.

“Let me see your toenails,” Maggie says sharply. “Show me.”

Scully withdraws her feet from under Mulder’s table to the floor in front of her mother, sitting next to her.

“I noticed before that they’re painted some kind of pink,” Scully says. “It’s not something I feel like I would pick out.”

“The color is Ballet Slipper,” her mother whispers. She leans down and touches Scully’s foot lightly with her fingertip. “You did pick it out. You picked the color out for both of us when we got our toenails done that morning at the spa. It matches your shirt. And our toenails matched… but mine are long gone, of course.”

“You’re sure it’s the same color?” Scully says.

“I’m sure,” Maggie says. “I had ample time to contemplate it after you died.”

Scully feels her stomach become unsettled again—thinking of her mother looking at her pale pink toenails, remembering her dead daughter and their matching pedicures. And yet her daughter isn’t dead, and my pedicure is apparently still perfectly preserved a year later.

Her own hands begin to creep over her jeans, her face, her hair, as though she could somehow feel by touch what was true and authentic about her own body. “I don’t understand,” she says. “How could these things be unchanged after so long?”

When she looks to Mulder, he has locked eyes with her mother with an intense expression on his face she doesn’t understand.

“Fox,” her mother says urgently. “You have to—"

“No.” His voice is low and absolute. “No.”

Scully watches her mother’s mouth set into a line. She knows the look well. Whatever they’re talking about, Maggie has made her decision.

“You get some time,” her mother says. “But then …” She raises her eyebrows. “I’ll give you some time, Fox. But this is not all up to you.”

Scully’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “Time for what?”

They don’t answer, still holding one another’s stare.

“What’s not up to him?” Scully says, her voice rising.

Maggie looks at her, new lines visible around her eyes. Her face transforms quickly into a smile. “Time to accept you being who you obviously are,” she says. “It’s not up to him to decide.”

“I’m trying,” Mulder says creakily, his eyes still on Maggie.

Scully takes a slow breath. Something is off here. And she hates it. She hates the feeling that there is important information she doesn’t know—that there are secrets her mother and Mulder, of all people, would conspire to keep from her. Her mood, already bleak, sours further.

“Oh Dana,” her mother says. She rises from her chair and puts her arms around Scully again, holding Scully’s head tight to her. “Please don’t worry about any of this too much. The important thing is that you’re here with us again. Try to focus on that.”

“I know, Mom,” Scully says, her cheek pressed against her mother’s abdomen. She doesn’t say what she is thinking, which is that she herself wasn’t aware of being gone at all, so being back isn’t the same giant relief for her that it is for her mother.

Her mom releases her to gaze at her face again. “We’ll convince Fox. You’ll see.”

Mulder says nothing, moodily pushing his eggs around with his fork.

“He’s been through a lot,” whispers Maggie, like he’s not right there, like he can’t hear her. “It’s natural he is going to be hesitant.”

Again Scully has mutinous, angry thoughts: You’ve been through a lot, too, Mom, and you had no trouble accepting me. And Mulder is someone who routinely accepts killer cockroaches and reincarnation and murder motivated by astrological phenomena.

“I’m sure,” Scully says coolly, looking down at her own plate. She decides to change the subject to something more practical. “Mom, do you know if I have any clothes left anywhere? I have nothing to change into.”

“I’m afraid we gave away most of your things,” Maggie says, distraught. “I may have a few boxes left. But I could also pick you up a few things from the store today. Would that be helpful?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Scully says. “Just basics. Something to sleep in, a few changes of clothes, underwear. I could use basic toiletries, too.”

“I’ll go right after we do breakfast dishes. Size 4, right?” her mother says. “32B?”

Scully’s eyes flash to Mulder again, instinctively self-conscious about announcing her bra size in front of him. But he doesn’t react to hearing it at all or even seem to process what she’s said. He stares at his plate, still idly moving his fork back and forth.

“Well,” Scully says. She lowers her voice to speak to her mother. “I think I’ve been gaining a bit in my more recent life, because these jeans are slightly small. Maybe size up everything a little, or look for something loose-fitting.”

She’s unprepared for the awkward silence that follows that seemingly benign statement. Maggie just blinks at her, then clears her throat. “Oh,” she says. “Of course, Dana. I think I can handle that.”

Across the table Mulder is now looking up, his eyes like burning coals. He tosses back and forth in his seat.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he announces suddenly.

Scully watches in astonishment as he stands abruptly, his chair scraping backwards. He clomps across the apartment, picks up his keys, and walks out the door without another word.

#the x files #xfiles fanfic #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #x files

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glassartpeasants · 11 months

Text

Our Child

Tomura Shigaraki x Ghost!F!Reader

Warnings: Death, angst, paranormal elements, mentions of child death, small horror elements, blood

A/N: yee

~~~

“Dabi, this place stinks. Not to mention the cobwebs! Are you really gonna make us stay here, Shigaraki?” All the man could do was sigh upon hearing this. He doesn’t want to be here either, but this is the only place at the moment that the heroes wouldn’t dare to look. So they’ll just have to bare it for now.

“It’s the only place heroes wouldn’t dare to look. Suck it up for now.” At least he can get some respect around here, even if it was half-assed.

It was an old abandoned house in the middle of a forest that once stood home to Japan's wealthiest family. Everything from when the family lived there is still in the exact spot where it had been all those years ago.

The story of the house always made his mother cry when she would tell it. He didn’t remember it well but did some research to ensure this place wasn’t covered in black mold, and that's how the story came back to him.

Long ago, when the trees were still young, lived a family on the highest hill. A mother and father with their only child being as young as 8.

The wife, beautiful and intelligent, stayed at home teaching her daughter the way to read and write. The husband goes out and works to sustain his family. Everything was happy in their town's eyes. Perfectly loving parents to a daughter as talented as a prodigy.

But tragedy soon struck when the husband strayed.

Due to his long days away from home, the husband became lonely. Going to exotic places and seeing the most beautiful of women while being married to another. He wanted the comfort of a woman by his side. Deep down, he knew he was wrong, but how would his wife know if she’s not there to see?

After his adventure with the mysterious woman he encountered while gone, he realized his wife had nothing compared to the woman he held. All he could think about was her. All he wanted was her.

But how could he be with another when he had a daughter?

The husband struggled to try to balance two lives. One with the women he loved and the other with his wife and child. But one fateful day, the husband couldn’t take it anymore.

He told his mistress that he was married but that he was leaving his wife for her. The mistress scoffed in his face with disgust. The mistress knew he was married as the wife hired her to ensure her husband stayed faithful on his trips. The whole house echoed her cries when she told the wife about his infidelity.

The husband grew inconsolable when he realized he could not be with her. How could this happen to him? He desperately tried to come up with ideas, but one after the other, they would never work. All except one.

When the husband returned home from his trip, he saw his wife and daughter smile brightly. His daughter ran to him and laughed, happy to have her father back home.

The wife had made dinner for all of them, and silence filled the table as the husband looked at his food. Watching as the steam raised from it.

“Aren’t you hungry, my dear?”

“No. I’m just exhausted from my journey.”

“Please go to bed if that's the case. I don’t want you getting sick or fainting.” The husband said nothing as he got up from the table and walked towards his bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he looked down at his hands and around the room.

Why was he stuck in this boring marriage when he could be with the woman he loved somewhere else?

A wave of anger boiled inside him as he tightened his fists and stared at the floor. It was all his wife's fault he couldn't be with her. If she were out of the picture, he would be free. He could dump the daughter at an orphanage.

Knowing what he had to do, he grabbed a sharp knife he kept near his pillow. His reflection showed through it as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

She heard her husband stepping behind her. She can't remember the last time they've been so close. The feeling of his rough hand grabbed her chin gently as he tilted her head up to look at him.

She could feel her heart beating before a cold sensation hit her neck, and her eyes widened.

The feeling of pain digging into her throat caused her to try and struggle and move forward, only to have the knife cut her throat even deeper, having her fall to the ground, heaving in a puddle of blood. The sound of gurgling as her blood stained the floor and surrounded her. All she could do was look up at her husband in horror as the sound of her daughter's footsteps could be heard coming towards the kitchen.

Shigaraki didn't want to think about the rest of it as it never failed to make him angry. Killing your family only for a woman who never liked him.

They caught the husband quickly after, by some chance, a traveler heard screams coming from inside the family house.

The two deaths of a mother and daughter rang across the town under the hill as outrage grew. ‘(L/N) (Y/N) and (L/N) (D/N) brutally murdered by husband/father!’ The father was sentenced to death before the house was closed off to the public.

No one wanted to live in a home where such a tragic event occurred. But even when people tried to tear it down, all the equipment always broke down, or one of the drivers had gotten sick and couldn’t work.

After that, they left the house to rot for years to come. No one dared to enter it as they feared what lurked behind the dark corners and in the eerie shadows.

Which is what made it perfect for hiding out in.

The house looked old and run down in some places, but in others, it looked nothing had touched it a day. It was odd, considering the house and story were older than dirt.

“We’ll stay here for a while. Until the huge search party dies down for a little.”

“What? Don’t believe in ghost stories, boss?” Dabi waved his fingers up and down towards Shigaraki before laughing.

“Don’t tell me you believe in that paranormal crap, do you?” He let out an annoyed sigh before rubbing his eyes.

“Not saying I do. I’m just curious if you want to hear why no one lives here.”

“Because it's old, and the house is outdated.”

“EERR! WRONG! Actually, hand man, it's because of the ghosts that haunt this place.”

“Ghosts?! Who believes in ghosts?!” Twice freaked as Shigaraki only rolled his eyes when he saw Dabi turn smug.

“Well, everyone says that the little girl and the mother have taken this place as their home, even in the afterlife. Their souls can’t move up or do even if they tried. So they’re stuck with us until they’re alone again.”

"Aw, that's so sad! Well, I hope we can make great company." Toga said with a frown on her face.

All Shigaraki could do was let out a sigh as he walked away from the group and went searching around the abandoned house, seeing what it had to offer. Which probably wasn't going to be much.

~~~

The day went by quickly as the sun set on the house. Leaving it to pitch black except for candles and an oil lamp from a house Twice robbed. The place is too old to have any electricity, so those were their best results.

Everyone lay in the living room close together to share body heat, and since no one wanted to sleep alone in a 'haunted’ abandoned house.

Shigaraki thought it was bullshit but entertained the idea for Toga.

Just when he went to sleep, though, a cold breeze flew across his body.

Shigaraki held his head as he opened his eyes. Looking around the room, he noticed that the once decaying house was now in its prime. The wallpaper no longer falling off the sides, and there are no more random holes in the floor from the aged wood.

A sickening sweet sound filled Shigaraki's ears as it echoed through the house. The sound of a woman singing made the man simply stand up to follow the tune.

He couldn't hear his own footsteps over the sound of the beautiful voice that lured him toward the master bedroom.

Once he placed his hand on the door frame to peek in, he noticed that the tune suddenly stopped, and the room was pitch black and devoid of any life.

He went to turn around before the sound of a child's laughter started ringing out through the hallway. The feeling of being watched ate at him entirely as he looked around for the source of the sound.

It seemed like it was coming from everywhere. The laughter, followed by a child's footsteps, put pressure on his chest. No one in the league had a giggle like that, and no one weighed as little as the footsteps sounded.

It went quiet as soon as it started, leaving him in silence.

He sauntered into the room where all of the league should have been, only to be greeted with the sight of a beautiful woman staring at him with a welcoming smile. Shigaraki tried to say something, but nothing would come out. He tried moving away, yet he was frozen.

The woman walked towards him, the kind smile slowly turning into one of the horrors as her mouth split from ear to ear. Her eyes seemingly black holes as the noticeable cut neck becomes more seen.

Shigaraki can feel his heartbeat in his ears as he watches the woman come closer and closer and closer. She stops right by his ear before whispering into it.

“Welcome home”

Shigaraki jolted awake as he looked at his surroundings. Dark but surrounded by the league as they lay sleeping. His body shook as he tried to make sense of what happened. It was such a vivid dream. He wondered if anyone else had it as well?

~~~

He couldn’t go back to sleep after the dream. It felt like if he closed his eyes; he’d go right back into the dream. So he just laid awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the rest of the league to wake up so they could go on a supply trip.

Just some food, more light sources, blankets, and maybe some small activities. Since the place had no electricity, he wouldn’t be able to charge his phone. In case shit went south, they could call Giran. But he supposed it didn’t matter anyways, as there was barely any signal in the area. Discussing who would stay behind was so much harder than he hoped it would be. No one wanted to stay in the abandoned house.

So here he was now. All by himself in the haunted house as silence seemed to suffocate him as he tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. Outside felt much more welcoming than the house, so he decided that he was going to get some fresh air.

The smell of the healthy forest seemed to calm him compared to the crushing air inside.

The trees were green, and he could hear a slight gust of wind blowing through the tree’s leaves. He imagined how beautiful it looked when in their early life. As the trees were giant, meaning they probably saw the horrors themselves. How sad.

Just then, the sound of a child crying caught his attention.

He usually wouldn’t pay attention to something like that but in the middle of the woods? What if they were lost? Or worse? What if they were kidnapped, and he just happened to hear it?! With the worst scenarios playing, he slowly tip-toed toward the nose.

It…was coming from the back of the house.

He stopped in his tracks as he tried to swallow the saliva that gathered in his mouth. What was he scared of? He was the most feared villain! The king of villains! The king of villains isn’t scared of something as minuscule as a child!

Taking a deep breath, he quickly jumped out from behind the wall, only to see nothing.

“What…but I know what I heard!” Just then, the noise started at the other end of the house.

“Hey! Stop running! I’m here to help you!” Shigaraki starts booking it to the sound again, only for footsteps to be running away again. He grew agitated as he tried to catch up to it, but no matter what, nothing was working as the noise was never close enough to him.

And there was no way a child could run faster than him. The sound of the child crying couldn’t have even been old enough to develop a quirk! The pitch was too high, and the footsteps too light.

After running around the house with the invisible child for what felt like forever, Shigaraki took a breath at the front door. The crisp air felt nothing like city air. It made him feel like he was accepted to be one with the trees almost.

A cold breeze blew through his hair, causing him to shiver. He looked at the surrounding trees and noticed that there was no wind in sight. A rage filled his being as he just screamed into the sky,

“Fuck off!” His words echoed throughout the woods before a loud crying could be heard right behind him. But this time, it wasn’t a child,

It was a woman.

He spun around to see the same woman again looking at him with a sad look. Tears poured down her face as blood spilled from her throat.

Tomura froze again like he did last night. Goosebumps prickled his skin as the woman floated closer and closer towards him. It only took seconds for her to be face to face with him. Tomura could feel her cold presence as she looked at him. Somehow, he managed to speak.

“Who are you?” The woman said nothing as she started crying harder but making no noise. She placed her freezing arms around Tomura’s neck before placing her head on her chest. She started slowly swaying as if she was dancing. A ghastly tune erupted from the womans throat as she hummed out a song that Tomura had never heard before.

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way. He must be hallucinating due to a lack of food! This woman was supposed to be dead, not right in front of him!

Without his knowledge, his body started to sway along with the ghostly woman. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control his body. His hands were forcibly placed at the womans waist as they continued to sway back and forth.

It felt as if they had been dancing forever before the sound of crunching leaves filled Tomura’s ears.

“Shigaraki! We’re back!” With those words, the lady disappeared in his arms. He regained control of his body but couldn’t help but stand still. Trying to figure out what had just happened before his friends came back. He must have been paler than usual as they all looked at him with concern.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.” Lie, lie, lie, they can’t know about what just happened. They’ll think he’s crazy!

“Huh?! Oh shit, why am I outside?”

“Shit, were you sleepwalking? Damn, should have let him walk into a tree.” Of course, Dabi always had to say something.

“Fuck you. Whatever, what did you get?”

~~~

They ate almost all the food they had grabbed only hours prior. Toga wanted to wait a little bit before eating so they could have ‘dinner.’ Tomura was just hungry and wanted to eat as soon as possible. So almost all the food was devoured due to being starved after being unable to get food for a while since the heroes were watching more than average.

“Best food I’ve had in months! We’ve gotta go back to get more tomorrow!” Toga’s happy demeanor put a smile on Tomura’s face.

“They’re gonna have heroes around that store for a while, so that store will be off limits until the heroes fuck off.” Spinner's words seemed to crush Toga’s spirits as she sighed and flopped down against her sleeping bag.

Stupid heroes. Always ruining everything!” Tomura let out a little snicker before laying down on his own sleeping bag. Looking up at the ceiling, he closed his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“Daddy!” His eyes shoot open, hearing those words. What the hell was that?! No one in the league sounded like that! The voice had to be of a child!

Looking around, he saw he was the only one in the room. Only seconds ago, he was surrounded by his friends, and now he was alone with the dying candle he had lit only minutes earlier. The familiar cold embrace overcame him as he felt small arms wrap around his neck. A childish giggling filled his ears as he spun around to see the cause of the cold finally.

A little girl, no older than 5, stared at him with a big smile on her face. She wore clothes that were of a time long ago, like what he guessed was her mother. He just stared at her in shock as soon, to his horror, her facial features started to change.

Her brown hair turned into a black mesh of hair. Her once blue eyes turned into the shade of his. He could simply stare as he watched her change her appearance so she looked exactly like he did so many years ago.

There was no way this was happening! He must have eaten something rotten! How in the hell did this child know what he used to look like? This couldn’t be real!

“Isn’t she beautiful, darling?” The woman finally spoke behind him, and the feeling of her cold spirit surrounded him. His body shook as the candlelight finally burnt out, leaving him in complete darkness.

All he could see was the red eyes of the little girl.

He felt his breath hitch in his throat as he soon heard the woman start humming again. Unable to say anything, he could only freeze.

A burning pain stretched across his throat as he felt the breath leave his lungs. Blood began to pool in his mouth and drench his shirt. He moved his hand to try and stop the bleeding, but his strength quickly disappeared as his body went limp. He could feel his eyes begin to droop as he heard the woman speak once more.

“Our very own child.”

#mha #bnha #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #mha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 1 year

Text

The Love Interest

Danny Brackett X Reader

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this !! If you like my work please comment like and re blog it means a lot to see interactions on my work.

Y/N POV

Living in New York was a dream. It was all you ever wanted sense you could remember.

The lights the fast action paced it felt like you belonged here. You also met a great group of friends a long the way.

Honestly if you asked where you meant them you couldn’t tell them. It was like you all just kind of found each other.

Which was nice because you didn’t have a lot of family. Your parents weren’t around so it was just you.

Your parents weren’t the best your mom had a ton of issues going on and she always found a way to self medicate.

In the most conventional way. Your father well let’s just say for now he was well known and not for the reasons you would like.

They always said it was for the best and they were keeping their space in order to protect you.

But you never understood because if they loved you then you would find a way to protect the ones you loved.

At least you weren’t alone because now you finally had a family after all these years.

There was even a love interest mixed in there. Danny lived across the hall and he was so smart and kind and sexy af.

You had a massive crush on him but you of course would never tell him that. Every time he walked up to you or had a small conversation with him you would always clam up.

Never in a million years would ever think you stood a chance so you just let it go so your feelings didn’t get hurt.

Lately though everyone was on edge so you didn’t get to talk to him that much.

There was a new ghost face going around town. You knew all about the stab movies and never in a million years did you think you would hear about it again in real time.

It was hard to tell right now if it was the real deal or some sort of copycat. 2 people were murdered so far and both time witness said it was a ghostface killer. They were also people you knew which sent shivers down your spine.

It also left this sick feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t pass down.

So all of your friends decided to come over to yours to keep you safe. Now you seen all the stab movies so you weren’t sure if that was such a good idea but you didn’t have the balls to tell them no either.

Either way it just seemed like a rough situation.

You were home alone now trying to semi clean up the mess before they got there. You were watching tv the background noise made you feel a little better.

There was a feeling the air that made it hard to shake and you didn’t know if you were worried about nothing or if you had a right to be.

Suddenly the phone rang and you could feel your heart beating. You thought it was going to jump out of your chest and you could feel the adrenaline running through your body.

You slowly walked over to the phone it felt like each step you took was a mile long. Finally you reached the phone and answered it.

It was silent on the other line just some heavy breathing. Finally you mustard enough courage to answer the phone.

“Hello” You said shaikly and breathy

“Hello Y/N how are you got any fun plans for tonight” The iconic voice every knew to well rang through.

“What the fuck do you want” You said trying not to let this sicko know how scared you were really are.

“I’m just trying to have some fun tonight it’s big a long time coming don’t you agree” The person said.

“Yeah well my idea of fun night is fucking you up” You said walking towards the kitchen trying to get the biggest knife you could find.

You pulled it out slowly and quietly and then started walking around the apartment.

“Well if this is all you wanted i really need to go” You said into the phone.

“Come on Y/N I thought we were having fun and I know your alone so you really don’t have anywhere to go do you know” They said.

“How the hell do you know I’m alone” You asked trying to conceal the panic in your voice but probably doing a bad job at it.

“Hmm I know a lot of things about you” The voice said.

You didn’t answer him right away you just kept walking around the apartment with the knife in your hand checking to see if they were there. I mean if they were you didn’t have any clue on what you were gonna do about it.

Suddenly a knock on the door made you jump out of your own skin. You slowly walked over to the door with the knife in the air.

You prayed in your head that it was all just a joke and you weren’t about to be murdered.

You slowly opened it up and was scared shit less when your friends jumped in and screamed at you.

You dropped the knife and then hung up the phone and threw it on the couch. Your friends looked at you with a confused look on their face.

“What the hell happened to you” Jace asked.

“Which one of you was it” You asked

“What the hell are you talking about” Emily asked.

“Stop fucking with me right now” You yelled.

“Whoa calm down we just wanted to scare you a little what the hell is going on” Dylan asked.

“Someone called me with the you know voice” You said moving your hands around in the air

“It was someone just probably fucking with you” Jace said

“I don’t know it felt different they knew I was alone” You said

“A lucky guess come on half of the people in new york live alone” Emily said.

“Yeah maybe what ever” You said.

You walked over on the couch and plopped down and tried to calm down your beating heart. There was something in the air that was still leaving you on edge.

Dylan walked over to you and sat down. She grabbed your hand and looked at you with a worried face.

“Babe come on talk to me are you okay” She asked.

“Yeah that phone call just scared me a little” You said honestly.

She then flung herself on you and laid on you resting her head on your chest. It did help you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry Y/N were protect you from the big bad killer” Jace said.

You rolled your eyes at them and laughed a little. The rest of them threw all their pillows and stuff all over the floor and made themselves at home.

The only person you were missing now was Danny. You couldn’t help but keep thinking how nice it would be if he were there with you.

You all were lounged around watching tv and playing all on your phones. You felt better now that they were they with you it did make you feel a bit safer if you were thinking about it.

A couple of hours had passed and the night was pretty quiet. You all had ordered hella food in and was watching movies all night.

You were getting tired and wanted to go bed. When suddenly there was a loud noise coming from the background.

Dylan who was still laying with you on the couch jumped up and looked scared. Everyone else just kind of looked at each other. Everyone was to stunned to move. You grabbed the knife that you placed on the table and got up.

You suddenly had some self confidence and slowly walked towards where the noise was coming from.

You could feel your heart beating out if it’s chest and your entire body was shaking. All you could keep thinking was please god don’t let me die.

The noise kept getting louder and louder as you made your way closer..

Suddenly a hand was placed on your back and you felt your soul leave your entire body. The only thought you had in this moment was please god don’t take me home.

Then a soothing and recognisable voice said something to you

“Baby what’s going I heard screaming and noises” Danny said to you.

You felt a million times better knowing it was just him. You turned around and looked at him and he had a worried look all over his face.

You could feel a weight being lifted off your chest to see him.

“I think he’s here and i think he’s in the room” You said the worry in your voice.

“Who’s here” Danny asked confusion in his voice.

“Ghostface” Was all you able to get out.

“How and why do you think that” He asked

“I got a phone call earlier and I thought maybe it was just a prank so I didn’t say anything now I’m freaking out” You said

“Okay calm down call the cops and get everyone out of here” Danny said

“No wait what about you” You asked

“I’ll be fine I’m gonna go check it out” Danny said

“Like hell you are not alone two of us have better odds” You said

“Y/N” he started..

“No i’m not letting you do this alone” You said firmly to him

He looked like he was gonna argue but you gave him a face that said you better not start anything.

He walked in front of you and kept a hand on you at all times. Why did you have to be a nice person and go. Maybe you should have ran out. But hopefully someone out there already called 911.

It felt like the way to the room was taking forever.

Finally you reached the room and Danny opened it slowly. You closed you eyes and silently prayed to your self.

You opened up and saw your worst nightmare right in front of you. Ghostface was standing in the centre of the room with a knife in his hand.

Your heart stopped beating and your face went pale white. You were waiting for those flight or fight response to kick in.

“Fuck you want” You heard Danny yelled.

And you were a little upset with him because why you mess with this man.

Ghostface didn’t even say anything he just titled his head a little and then ran towards y’all with a knife. Danny closed the door and the both of you bolted out of the way.

When you got to the living room everyone was kind of scattered and you didn’t even remember if you yelled anything you tried your best to run to the door.

Suddenly you felt someone grab the back of you and pushed you on the ground hard. You could feel the stinging in your head and you had double vision.

You tried your best to gather yourself but it was hard. Your whole entire body felt weak.

All you heard faintly was someone yelling in the background your name.

You felt hands on you again and at this point you were to messed up again. When they lifted you up yor head leaned back and you saw it was Danny. He was trying to drag you out of there.

Suddenly the lights went out and you could feel him gently put you back down. You kept wanting to close your eyes but you knew a hell of a lot better.

There was blood curling screams that were let out and it was hard to tell who it was.

Finally it felt like your flight or fight kicked in because then you stood up so fast that you forgot you were hurt.

You tried to look around but you could’t see anything. You tried to remember where everything was in the apartment so you could at least leave or turn on the lights.

Making your way to the wall after scrambling what felt like a while. You turned on the lights and you were shocked and sick to your stomach to see Jace in the middle of the living dead. He was covered in stab wounds and there was blood everywhere.

He was one of your best friends and you were so crushed and gutted right now. Everyone was looking around at each other wondering what the hell to do and who the hell could have done it.

You did the only thing you could think of was to run out of the apartment and get the hell out of there. You weren’t even sure who followed behind you but you didn’t stop running.

You reached the elevator and it wasn’t coming no matter how many times you pushed the button.

So you started knocking on doors screaming help but no one really answered. So you took the fire escape stairs. You were running so fast you weren’t sure how you didn’t fall. Finally after 6 flights you made it.

But of course life wasn’t going to be that easy. The doors were tied from the outside and you couldn’t make your way out.

You pulled on the doors and banged but one came. No one was even leaving their apartment so you weren’t sure what to do.

You ran towards the other end then you ran into Danny or more like crashing into him.

“Whoa are you okay” He asked grabbing you and looking you up and down.

“The door is locked from the outside and we can’t go anywhere” You yelled out all in one breath.

“OKay we need to hunker down somewhere and try and play it lowkey until help comes okay I called the cops” Danny said.

You heard more blood curdling screams and you froze up in fear again. Suddenly Emily came running down the fire escape and was covered in blood. She looked at you scared and upset.

“What happened” You asked

“Dylan Is dead” She said

“What how “ was all you could get out.

“Ghostface we tried to get out but we couldn’t” Emily said.

You looked over at Danny and his face looked like he wasn’t believing what she was putting out.

“Where did this happen” He asked.

“In the apartment” She said in a defensive manner

“Why didn’t you run out” Danny asked

“We tried but” Emily said but he cut her off’

“Nah something ain’t adding up here” He said

“Come on now we weren’t there to know what happened” You said trying to defuse the situation.

Suddenly you could feel your heart pounding again when you looked over Emily’s shoulder and there was Ghost face coming up behind her.

“Fuck everyone Run” Danny yelled.

You both did not follow that advice because you both instead slowly backed away scared to make any sudden movements.

He ran up behind Emily who just looked confused. Ghost face ran up behind her and started stabbing her over and over again. Her scream filled the hallways and you were frozen in fear at the scene in front of you.

Then Emily started laughing and it scared the hell out of you

Danny placed his whole body in front of you. And you couldn’t get anything out of your mouth because you were in complete shock.

“What the hell” Danny said

“Did I get you how was my performance” Emily asked.

“Why what’s going on” You asked

“What do you mean i think it’s pretty obvious don’t you think” Emiy said

Ghost face just started walking closer to yall slowly and you both kept just taking steps back. You backed up all the way into the wall at the end of the hallway. You were shaking in fear and honestly thought this was going to be it .

Ghostface slowly lifted off his mask to show the shock of a lifetime when Jace pulled off the mask.

Why the hell would either of them want to be involved in what motive would you have.

“Are you not putting this together” Jace laughed

“I’m sorry you want me to the pieces together ? Fuck you” You yelled walking past Danny and looking them straight in the eye.

You felt more anger than fear because why would they do something like this.

“Let me break it down for you hunnie. You made it real easy we set you up” Emily said

“Why would you want to do that” You asked

“Why the Fuck not we wanna be famous” Jace yelled

“We know who you are we tracked you down on purpose we knew your mom wouldn’t miss an opportunity to come down and get a story.” Jace said

“What the hell is going on” Danny said

“My mom is Gale Weathers and My dad is Dewey Riley they were a part of the Orginial Stab” You said

“Woah really” Danny said

“Yeah now you can see why I don’t talk about but them but damn they were right they were obsessed with Ghost face always telling me not to trust anyone I couldn’t take it anymore so I left home and came here” You said.

“Well damn you should have listened to mommy and daddy then” Emily said.

“Now were gonna be famous” Jace said.

you could feel your heart beating out of it’s chest and you were saying every prayer you coils.

Then suddenly you saw over both their shoulders a familiar face and you felt relief and happiness when you saw who it was.

“Not today mother fuckers” Dewey yelled.

He pulled his gun out and Shot Jace first in the shoulder and then Emily looked over and ran over towards him.

Your dad then shot her to and she fell down. A couple more police officers came in behind after him.

Dewey ran over to you and wrapped you in a big hug. You hugged him back tight so grateful that he was there for you.

“Moms out front don’t worry pumpkin she’s alone not with the circus” He said in a soothing voice.

The hug broke apart and he gave you a loving look. Then he looked over at danny and his mood suddenly changed and you knew what he was thinking.

“No no dad this is Danny he’s okay he’s one of the good ones” You said

‘I don’t trust the love interest” He said

“Who said he was the love interest” You said confused.

“Come on now beautiful man like him I know you sweet pea he’s your type “ Dewey said

You could feel your face heating up from embarrassment.

“Now is not the time now let’s go” You said.

You ran out keeping your head up trying not to look down at the sight on the floor. You made your way down the hallway and then made your way outside.

You looked around to see if you could see your mom anywhere. Suddenly you saw her looking in the street.

“Mom i’m here” You yelled

She ran over to you and grabbed you in a big hug.

“Omg sweetheart thank god your okay” Gale yelled.

“Yeah no thanks to dad” You said

“How did you even know what was going on” You asked

“ we follow ghost face news saw he was here in New York I’m good at my job knew you were here to” Gale said

“Of course but now I guess I’m actually” You started

“Greatful now go look the love interest is waiting” Gale said

You ran over to Danny and pulled him into a big hug and he hugged you back tight.

“Thank you so much”You said to him as the hug broke apart.

“For what” He said smiling down at you

“I mean you risked your life for mine” You said

“Of course always for you” Danny said.

“Now your dad was wrong about one thing i gotta point out though” Danny said

“What’s that” You asked

“Your my life interest” danny said

“Shut up no I’m not” You said

“Come on someone good looking as you it’s hard not to fall in love” Danny said.

He leaned down and kissed you and you kissed him back feeling butterflies in your stomach.

The kiss broke and he looked down and smiled at you.

“I still don’t trust you” Dewey yelled over

“He’s never going to” You said

“I can work on it” You said.

The moment was then ruined when crime scene walked out with a body bag. You got a sick feeling and upset all over again remembering about poor Dylan she didn’t deserve what happened.

Gale and Dewey walked over to you. They wrapped their arms around you and gave you a squeeze.

“We know sweetheart but it’s gonna be okay were here for you” Dewey said

Danny also gave your hand a squeeze.

That’s the problem with Stab movies they never show what happens after. How the hell do you just move on. But thank god you had people who were there for you.

“Let’s hope to hell there isn’t a sequel” Gale said.

#danny brackett #danny Brackett x reader #scream 6 #sceam #ghostface #josh segarra #scream x reader #scream imagine #danny brackett imagine

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