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i-like-sparkly-things · 3 years

Text

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone— tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________

Read more of my fics here!!

Tagging : @girlandthemoon @herecomesthewriterwitch @megaliciab @meyocoko @alkadri-layal

#jay halstead #will halstead #chicago pd #chicago med #jay halstead x sister!reader #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #jay halstead one shot #will halstead oneshot #halstead brothers

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wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl · 3 years

Note

For dayton can you write being childhood best friends with him and you've always been there at his races and one day your running late so you don't get to see him before for his pep talk. And his race goes horribly and eventually when he sees you he gets angry and you get in to a argument. But eventually he makes it up to you.

A/N: Alright, here’s my first go at writing for Dayton White! I watched Logan Lucky and absolutely adored it. Dayton does not get the love he deserves! I decided Im going to make this at least a two parter, potentially spanning into one or two more. I really want to dive into the past with these two! This will focus more on their relationship growing up, while the second (and potentially third) part will contain more of the angst. Once again if I don’t write for a Seb character you like, just ask and I’ll try and gain access to it! I hope you guys enjoy. I also really hate to do this, but I recently quit my job due to a toxic work environment. Here is my ko-fi, if you can donate that would be cool, but if you can’t no pressure!!! Love you all ❤️

https://ko-fi.com/kyleey01

Pairings: Dayton White x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, no proofreading (I’ll get to it)

Word Count: 2.5k

You’re Always There Part 1

Your earliest memory of Dayton was meeting him at Memorial Park in your hometown. You were both 5 years old, new to the world outside of your home. It was the day before Kindergarten, and both of your parents wanted you to make new friends before the first day of school. Hopefully meeting someone in your class, they felt you wouldn’t be as scared being truly away from them for the first time. You only had a single mom, and she did everything for you that she could, even taking you to the park after her long day at work. Dayton had both parents, making it easier for him to let go and meet new people. His home was “complete” by societal standards.

“Mommy I don’t wanna go play on the slide. I wanna go home and play dinosaurs with you” you said looking up at your mother.

She kneeled down to look you in the eye, holding her shining gaze with yours looking both serious and concerned, “Honey, you know you go to school tomorrow. This is your chance to go meet someone new, maybe even have a friend when you go into school tomorrow.”

You were extremely hesitant. You loved your momma, and she loved you more than anything. You had friends on your street that you liked to play with, but your mom was never far away, only a quick yell and she would be there. This was different. She had told you she wasn’t going to be there if you needed her, and that you would have to wait until school was over to see her again. You cried for two days straight after you had the “school” talk. What were you going to do without your mom? She was your superhero, your friend, and the best mother in the whole wide world. You didn’t need anyone else. That’s what you thought, at least. Until you met Dayton.

“Go on chickadee, go make some friends. You’re a big girl now who can build pyramids with blocks and cut out dinosaurs with scissors, you can do anything” your mother said with a smile.

This was all you needed to muster up the courage to conquer the slide. You nodded at your mom and ran off towards the wooden playground. They really should’ve made these things plastic, with splinters and bee stings being common afflictions of being on the playground, but it didn’t matter to you. It was fun all the same.

You began to climb the steps of the huge castle, making your way through drawbridges and holes through the wood to get to the slide. There were two other little girls there, a little older than you, maybe seven. You mustered up a quiet “hi” but they didn’t hear you, already screaming and running off in a different direction. Just when your hopes of making a friend had been dashed, you heard another voice from behind you.

“Hi. What’s your name?”

A boy of brunette hair and ocean blue eyes was staring at you expectantly. You weren’t expecting anyone to respond except those girls, so you were timid at first. You opened your mouth to speak several times but nothing came out. You started to become overwhelmed, tears welling up in your eyes.

The boy noticed, looking at you confused. He had only asked you your name. However, his momma always said if someone was crying, you fix it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your name. Do you need a hug?”

All you could do was nod, strangely opening up to this welcoming boy. He smiled and brought you in for a tiny hug. He wants gentle, kind of rough actually as he swayed you back and forth with energy. He pulled away, hoping you had felt better. You did.

“I’m Dayton” he said, smiling at you.

You smiled back, with tear stains still on your cheek.

“I’m Y/N”

“Y/N, it looks like you need another hug” Dayton gave you another hug, holding you until he stopped hearing the faint sniffle that escaped your body every so often.

You pulled away, nodding to indicate you were alright now.

“You wanna go down the slide? My mommy is probably wondering where I am” Dayton asked innocently.

You nodded, relief washing over you that someone wanted to be your friend

“That sounds awesome.”

_______________________________________________

From that day forward, you and Dayton were attached at the hip. Elementary school had been a breeze. Thankfully, Dayton was in your class your first year. Although it didn’t stay that way, you would always find time to meet and play during recess. Recess time turned into meeting after school, and meeting after school extended into high school.

Dayton began racing during freshman year. Your school offered a racing club which allowed students to meet after school and go to various tracks in the state to see what it was like to race. You and Dayton had always gone Go-Kart driving on the weekends, but you never thought it would turn into anything serious. Dayton, however, has found his passion. He started building his own race car after school sophomore year, and even asked if you would come over to help. You knew absolutely nothing about building a race car, but Dayton wanted you to be there and that’s all that mattered.

“Y’know I know nothing about building a damn car right? Do YOU even know anything about building a car?” you posed to Dayton in an almost accusatory tone.

“As a matter of fact, Y/N, I have been studying how to build this ‘damn car’ for over a year now, so why don’t you put a little respect on Francine’s name?”

“Well, Dayton, I suggest you begin studying geometry before you fail the quarter. And you named the thing already? Is it your lover or you car?”

“It’s both” he gave you a weird wink, one on the left, and then another on the right in secession.

“You are absolutely gross, White. I can’t believe I ever agreed to go down that slide with you when we were five. It was probably all apart of your evil plan to keep me from being someone else’s best friend just so I could build this car with you” you rolled your eyes as you sat on the hood of his family car.

“God you’re so right. You caught me. Our entire friendship has been a sham, and it all led up to this moment. And now that I finally have you where I want you...” he said with a low growl, planting both of his hands on either side of you as you sat on the hood of his car.

“I’m gonna get ya!” He said tickling your sides

You shrieked, absolutely taken aback that his hands were all over you.

God, his hands were all over you.

Alright, maybe he is cute, but there was no way you two would ever date. You came to that conclusion a long time ago. Your crush developed in the 6th grade, which is absolutely astounding considering middle schoolers are anything but normal. Even in the most awkward stage of life Dayton still managed to be charming and cute as ever. You were determined to tell him, but he would never shut up about Stacey Waterson. You hated her with every fiber of your being. What was wrong with you after all? You had it all, at least that’s what your mom said. You were decently pretty, immensely funny, and his best friend. You shared everything together. What more could he want? Well, the answer to that question would be Stacey Waterson. He wanted her, and not you.

You came back to from the tickling after laughing for what seemed like minutes. Your sides were hurting from contracting your ab muscles for too long. You pushed Dayton off of you playfully, but he pounced back on you, pinning your arms above your head.

“Say the password and I’ll let you go” he stared you down, being absolutely serious.

However, you wanted to double check.

“You can’t be serious” you retorted back, completely flustered due to the situation you were currently in on top of the incessant tickling that occurred just moments before.

“Oh, I’m serious. Say the password and I’ll let you go!” He said with a huge smile on his face.

“Jesus Christ, let me go you dick” you said while struggling to get up.

Dayton made a loud buzzing sound in your face.

“Try again!”

“Dayton come on let me up!”

Dayton made another loud buzzing sound in your face.

“Come on Y/N, just one little word and this can all go away. All you gotta do is say..”

“Goddamnit Dayton, chicken! Chicken for fuck’s sake” you said waiting for his response.

Dayton made another loud buzzing sound in your face.

“I’m sorry, that’s the old password. There’s a new password” he smiled at you, knowing this was ridiculous.

You finally mustered up the strength to push him off of you.

“What do you mean the password has changed!”

The password “chicken” has been used in every single scenario since you first let. For whatever reason, You and Dayton found that word hilarious when you were at a birthday party in the third grade. It was Danny Henry’s 8th birthday, and of course it was chicken themed. Every child gets infatuated with a new thing every year. Danny happened to live on a farm, and all year he wouldn’t stop talking about getting a pet chicken. You all wore chicken hats, there were chicken plates, a chicken cake. There was even a “Pin the Beak on the Chicken” game which, if you do say so yourself, was way more entertaining than “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” You and Dayton lost it by the time your mom picked you up from the party, absolutely hysterical in the backseat. Ever since then, it was your secret password for everything.

“I was thinking we should change stuff up. Make up a new password, it has been seven years since we thought of one.”

“Oh yeah? And what is this new life changing password that is soooo good that our childhood memory is being brushed under the rug?” you question.

Dayton had an almost hurt look on his face, but he proposed the new password to you anyways.

“I thought the new password could be Francine. Y’know, I just think this is another great milestone in our friendship, working on this car and all. This day is really important to me and I’m glad you’re here” he said with sincerity.

You didn’t know what to say. This day did mean a lot to him, and your friendship overall.

You nodded in agreement.

“Alright, the new password is Francine. However, I will still be accepting chicken as a password in the future.”

Dayton smiled one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen.

“Deal. Now, let’s get this car on the road. We have a lot of work to do if I’m gonna be ready for my first ever official race next Saturday.”

______________________________________________

Race day was here. You woke up early next Saturday morning and drove over to Dayton’s house to pick him up to go to the race track. Dayton’s dad was taking his race car down in their trailer, but you and Dayton wanted to head to your special place before the race. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Dayton had until noon to get to the race track.

Ever since the 6th grade, you and Dayton would walk to this rock in the woods after school to talk about your day. Your mom got home at seven every night, so you only had four hours to do something before she got home and realized you were “missing.” You talked about everything on that rock, and that rock was also where you realized you had the biggest crush on someone since your infatuation with Paul Rudd in “Clueless.”

You pulled up in your beat up Dodge Intrepid, newly sporting your license. You grabbed some granola bars and bottles of orange juice to enjoy while sitting on the rock.

You both sat down on ground, leaning up against the thing. You both sighed and enjoyed the crisp cool morning air. Finally, you broke the silence.

“You nervous for today?”

Dayton looked down between his legs while chewing on his granola bar.

“I am absolutely terrified. I mean, what if I mess up?”

You laughed a little.

He looked at you with confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

You shook your head.

“it’s your first are Dayton. It’s okay to be nervous and even mess up. At the end of the day, everyone is going to be proud of you. We’ll all tell you how great you did because we know how much you care about this. You’ll do amazing.”

He smiled, almost not expecting such kind words to come from your mouth.

“You’re something else Y/N, ya know that?”

“Oh yeah? Stacey Waterson is something else too I bet” you said half jokingly, half serious.

He rolled his eyes.

“Who gives a fuck about Stacey Waterson when I have a girl like you to cheer me on and surprisingly gives the best pep talks.”

“Well the way I see it she was the one who got the invitation to prom, not little old me who will be spending that Saturday night in my basement playing my PlayStation.”

He shook his head again.

“I never asked Stacey to prom.”

You suddenly shifted to look at him square in the face.

“What?”

“I said, I didn't ask Stacey to prom.”

You were dumbfounded. He told you he was absolutely determined to take her. What had changed?

“W-Why? Why didn’t you ask her?”

He kept smiling and shaking his head.

“God Y/N, for being one of the smartest girls I have ever met you really can be dumb sometimes.”

“Excuse you, Dayton White, I happen to be taking AP U.S History, Honors Biology, and-”

That’s when you thought heaven had fell down from the skies and landed right on that rock.

Dayton had leaned in and kissed you. God, why did he have to be so charming?

He slowly took your lip into his mouth and gently sucked on it. You reciprocated by taking his top lip into your mouth and began moving your mouth with his. Time had stopped. It felt like you had molded into one person, enjoying the sensation of each other’s lips.

He finally pulled away, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Do you understand now?”

You nodded, still stunned by his actions.

“I think we better go. I wanna see this handsome boy I kissed win his first race.”

#dayton white #dayton white x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan characters #logan lucky

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furbtasticworksofart · 3 years

Text

Starbucks Location

Summary: Capitalism has failed. Circus Baby's Pizza World has closed, and now, the Funtime Animatronics are out a job. Or ARE they?

Coffee, scones, and slightly burned omelets. This was the best that humanity had to offer the world. It was not very impressive.

Circus Baby watched the water bubble and boil until it reached the desired temperatures: scalding hot. She had made a notice that the coffee machine was infected with some kind of mold when she had first started working at the shop, and when she had told the manager, he had assured her that if the coffee was hot enough, it would simply burn the mold away.

This did not seem like a reasonable assumption to make. However, her manager did not seem to be a very reasonable person, so it was understandable. At the very least, Baby didn’t have to worry about any burns, though she was mildly concerned that any child trying to consume the beverage would possibly suffer second degree burns.

“Baby?” Ballora called from the register.

“I’ll be right there,” Baby responded, leaning down carefully to pick up the little glass container and pour the coffee into even tinier plastic cups. Using her thumb and index finger to carefully pinch the little cups with the smallest amount of pressure she could manage, Circus Baby gently placed the cups on a tray.

Slowly walking so as not to spill, Baby marched over to the register to Ballora, who as per usual was taking their new job in stride, chatting up a woman at the counter. She wore the tacky green apron with great confidence, even though it would sometimes become twisted around her waist, and get wrapped inside the cracks in between her plastic joints and tutu. Ballora was always the most active, sometimes she would spin impatiently by the counter as she waited for receipts to print.

Baby’s uniform did not fit, the apron they gave her was way too small. Foxy had suggested they tie it around her arm like a bracelet. It worked, but she was a little worried that she would get in trouble for not wearing it properly.

Ballora smiled at Baby as she walked up to the counter. Circus Baby smiled back, because Circus Baby did not have mechanisms that allowed her to move her mouth to any other expression.

“Please obtain your bean juice, beloved consumer!” Ballora called out in a musical tone to a man slouched by a laptop.

“Ballora, just say coffee.” Baby said.

Ballora blinked. “But do we not serve bean juice?”

“Yes, it is bean juice, but technically many things are made of juice. People are technically unprocessed or crushed juice. But most people don’t like it when you specify what is juice and what is not.”

Ballora nodded. “Interesting. I will need to know the specifics of these juices in the future.” She then turned her attention back to the woman at the counter and continued to take her order.

“Why are you two talking about juice?” A tiny voice questioned.

Baby glanced down at the floor to see Bon Bon trying and failing to use a sponge to clean up a sticky coffee stain. He did not produce enough weight to actually move it enough to clean anything.

“We’re discussing how to properly speak to humans in ways that don’t discourage them.”

“That’s a load of hooey!” Funtime Freddy bellowed, as he side-stepped Bon Bon and picked up the tray to carry it. “Humans are rarely discouraged!”

“Freddy, inside voice please.” Baby called out to him, before bending down and gently shoving Bon Bon to the side to grab the sponge.

“Wait, Baby, I thought we agreed you weren’t on cleaning duty.” Bon Bon said with a huff as he pulled the sponge away from her. “Just look at the floor, it’s all scratched because of you!”

Stopping in her scrubbing, Baby looked down at the floor. Indeed, the floor, that already under a lot of stress due to carrying the weight of a 500 pound animatronic daily, had begun to get scuffed and cracked, and Circus Baby was a very aggressive cleaner. Perfection was required, if the floors didn’t shine like her what was even the point?

“Can’t you just stand still?” A minireena giggled as it’s counterpart helped it pour milk into a cup, before sliding it onto the next minireena, who filled it with surgery syrup.

“Silly Baby, she loves to be the center of attention!” Another minireena cried from her right as it popped a croissant into the microwave oven.

“Always the star of the show!” Two minireenas chirped in harmony.

Circus Baby tilted her head forward. “I just wanted to help…”

“Oh, don’t let them bother you, dear.” Ballora assured her with a little pat on her arm that made a little plink as the plastic made contact. The ballerina then turned to the minireenas, as her face plates sprang open.

“I don’t see you girls making those Frappuccino®s fast enough!” She growled, eyeing them in contempt as she leaned down to face them. The minireenas squealed and went back to work, now at double the speed. Ballora’s faceplate snapped back into place as she turned to Baby, and her cheerful smile returned.

“Why don’t you ask the Bidybabs to go help you with the smoothies? You love making icy blended fruit!” Ballora said as she returned to taking orders.

“I can’t, the Bidybabs are on break with Funtime Foxy,” Circus Baby said mournfully. She leaned against the counter, and it cracked slightly where her hands touched the not-quite-wood, not-quite-tile.

“Foxy always leaves us with the early shifts!” Funtime Freddy wined, as he returned the tray to the dirty dish rack. “It’s not fair.”

They all stayed silent for a moment.

“I miss performing.” Baby said softly. “I want to go back to singing our songs together, no stupid apron or coffee, just us and the band singing for those sweet children.”

“I do too, Baby,” Ballora said sympathetically. “But you know we can’t do that, not after what happened.”

“Yeah, I know. It was too abstract a comedy for children, I shouldn’t have led with the jokes about the dangers of clown cars and the importance of seatbelts.” Circus Baby said with a sigh.

“Hey, it’s not so bad!” Bon Bon said as he climbed up Freddy’s arm. “Sure the location is gone, but at least we’re all together, right guys?”

“Yeah! We’re a team!” Freddy said with an enthusiastic nod.

Baby considered this, and nodded back. “I’m going to go take a short break, is that okay?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Ballora said with a wave, continuing to ignore the impatient and growing line behind her. “Bon Bon can cover for you.”

Circus Baby smiled, and marched off towards the breakroom, her feet making little dents in the floor. She passed the bathrooms and the tiny storage closet, until she bent down to dip through the doorway. She sat down against the large brown worn couch, and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. It had a funny texture, like someone had taken a pencil and stabbed little holes into the ceiling. She closed her eyes, and let the ambience of the buzz of the people in the background and the scent of fresh bean juice carry her to sleep.

#my writing #surreal comedy #sister location #fnaf sl #circus baby #ballora #funtime freddy #funtime foxy #minirennas #bon bon #I dare you to read this in their voices.#It's the best thing I've ever written

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

Riddler part 5

Master List

Warnings: Episode based, SVU talks, SVU crimes, fluff, touch on smut

WC: 1700

Enjoy x

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to you?” Amanda was standing next you at the end of a hospital bed talking to a victim that had been assaulted when she opened her door to her apartment.

“I think so. Ray Wilson. He has been stroking me since College. It stopped while he was doing some time. He got out a month ago. I got a letter from him 2 weeks ago. It freaked me out, but I tried to put it behind me and not be paranoid”

You and Amanda walked out of the room and Amanda called Liv straight away to fill her in. “Ok copy that” and she hung up.

“We need to go to Barba and get a warrant for DNA. I ‘am sure warrants won’t be a problem now he is your boyfriend”

“He’s not my boyfriend-yet, so let’s stop and get coffee before just in case”

“Hey Carmen” you and Amanda both said as you walked into Rafael’s waiting room.

“You go ahead, I need to run to the ladies” and Amanda walked off. You hadn’t seen Rafael since Saturday night, but had spoken on the phone and texted non-stop the past two days, but you didn’t tell him you were coming and bringing coffee. You knocked on the door and opened it and walked in once you heard him say come in.

“Ah my favourite ADA” he looked up and lent back in his chair with a big smile.

“My favourite Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure” he smirked at you.

“Can’t I just stop by and see you Barba?”

“Of course you can, but I see you have coffee, clearly this isn’t a social visit. What’s the warrant for?”

You burst out laughing and walked over to him, and sat the coffee on his desk. He stood up and gave you a hug and light kiss on the lips. Pulling back and looking in your eyes, still keeping hold of your waist your arms on his chest.

“You know, you can stop by here anytime you like” he squeezed your hips.

“De Verdad? (Really)”

“Of course really” he smiled at you.

“Break it up you two, is the warrant ready yet Counselor ” Rafael pulled away from you and turned bright red clearing his throat.

“She knows Rafael. Don’t worry about it” you grabbed his hand.

“Yeah Barba, it’s all good. I’ll keep it too myself if you make sure you look after her” Amanda smirked at him.

You guys filled him in with what the warrant was for, and explained to him all the evidence you guys had.

“Give me an hour. Wait here.” He kissed you on the forehead and walked out of the room.

“You’re a bit cute together” Amanda nudged you with her elbow.

“And your embarrassing” you laughed back at her.

The case was a tricky one. It wasn’t the victim’s stoker, it was a retired arresting police officer that the girl had been close with and arrested the stoker a while ago, who was obsessed with her. The police officer set him up so that he would get the blame and no one would ever suspect it was him of the attack. All you guys worked it out pretty quickly. Rafael took it to trial for it to lead to guilty and he requested the maximum. The trial ended on the Thursday and you hadn’t had a chance to see Rafael on Friday. You had just walked into you apartment after work when your phone started to buzz, It was him,

“Hey Rafael, como estas (how are you)?”

“Mejor ahora te estoy hablando (Better now I’m talking to you)”

“Eso es Bueno escuchar (that’s good to hear)” he started to laugh.

“What are you doing Querida?” (darling)

“I just got home, you?”

“Me too. So tomorrow, where is it?”

“I can text you the address or you come to mine first and we leave from here. Lo que quieras (whatever you like). It’s a smart casual event. Blake did talk about going out after if you’re up for it? So you’re more than welcome to spend the night here” As soon as the words came out of your mouth your stomach filled with butterflies.

“I would love too” you smiled to yourself “What time would you like me to be at your place?”

“You can come anytime, I’ll be home all day tomorrow. Or-you could come now and spend the weekend”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I just got home remember” he laughed again

“Give me an hour. See you soon” and he hung up

You put down your phone and ran to the bathroom to shower and shaved and put on a pair of cotton shorts and one you old academy t shirts. True to his word an hour later there was a knock at door. You looked at the peep hole and there was Rafael holding an overnight bag and very full plastic bag. You sung the door open and stood out of the way to let him in.

“I picked up Chinese” he said over his shoulder as he made his way into your apartment and sat it on the bench top.

He placed his overnight bag near a wall out of the way and took in everything around him. It was just like every other small New York apartment, but to him it wasn’t like every other, it was yours and he loved it. It was a one bedroom apartment. The Kitchen, dining and lounge were open plan, a small bathroom, but a surprisingly large bedroom. An old not working, in wall fire place had your TV resting above it, you had one medium size wood book shelf, half filled with books and the other half filled with DVD’S, a smaller L shape couch with small tables at either end.

Next to the book shelf was two huge framed photo. Both family photos. One was an old one, you looked about 8 standing in the middle of all these boys, all arms around each other, with older people standing behind you all. The one under it looked more recent, a enactment of the above photo. Under them was a small wooden table with 3 more framed photos. Two of them had a pair of older people in each, your grandparents with a small angel in front of them both. The 3rd photo was of you and Blake, you were both smiling wide, as he held you up off the ground with your legs bend up your arms wrapped around his neck in your police uniform.

“I know it’s not much, but its home” you grinned.

“No I love it” he turned and looked at you with a smile.

You guys had dinner and talked some more.

“I see you have the original Wind in the Willows series, both English and Spanish” a wide smile came to your face.

“They were my favourite books growing up. I got the English ones for my 10th Birthday and spent that summer reading them over and over again. My Tia and Uncle went to Mexico that year for a wedding and came across the Spanish ones in a book store, so they got them for me. I used to sit in Tia’s kitchen after school and homework and read them to her while she cooked. I read her all the ones in English, and then done the same in Spanish”

How did he get so lucky? After Rafael got off the phone from you, he was over the moon. You had asked him to stay the weekend and you were taking him to something with your family. He hadn’t felt like this for such a long time. You were such a beautiful person. He had broken through the charade you showed everyone. He loved when you talked Spanish, it done something to him. You sounded sexy. The night at the roof top bar you weren’t ashamed of him. You told your cousin straight away that you were on a date and did not hesitate introducing him. He could see a future, for the first time in a long time, a future with you.

“Raf, stop.” You were both on your bed. The kissing that started in your kitchen that led you both to here, him on top of you, running his hand into your cotton shorts. He pulled up off you with a worried look on his face. You had tears running down your face sobbing.

“Hey, hey it’s ok Hermosa, please don’t cry” he pulled you into him resting his head on top on yours. After a little bit you claimed down enough to talk.

“I’ am so sorry, I ‘am so embarrassed”

“Why are you embarrassed? Don’t be” he lent in and kissed you on the lips

“It’s just-it’s been so long.I’ am scared Raf. I like you so much, I don’t want to get my heart broken” you paused and took a deep breath. “If something was to happen between us, I don’t think I could ever get over it, if I take that step with you- I don’t want to get attached, no quiero salir lastimado (I do not want to get hurt)” tears started to fall from your eyes. He cupped your face and lifted it slightly so you looked into his eyes.

“For the first time in a long time I can see a future, a future with you, and with you only. I like everything about you, I want you to get attached to me. I can’t promise we won’t fight, but I can promise you, I will never leave you for anyone. I can wait as long as I need till you’re ready, I’ am not going anywhere. It’s been a long time for me as well. But we have nothing but time now we have found each other” you looked up into his eyes and for the first time in a long time you felt wanted.

“Smart mouth and all?”

Rafael lent in and kissed you softly.

“Smart mouth and all”

Tags: @detective-giggles @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @scarletsoldierrr @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @infiniteoddball @ritajammer21 @madamsnape921 @word-scribbless

#ada rafael barba #ada barba #Raul Esparza #rafael barba #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x yn #rafael #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #nbc svu #svu x reader #barba #barba fanfic #barba x reader #barba and reader #rafael barba and reader

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

sMuggled Art

Pairing: young muggle!snape x muggle!reader

Word Count: 5, 262

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Severus is forced to take work in his father’s coworker’s wife’s store where he meets (Y/n). Severus’ view of the world seems dark, and you don’t really make things any better, but there is yet hope to change his mind!

Warnings: None

A/N: Another request completed for anon! Since Severus doesn’t go to Hogwarts he has (my best attempt) at his North England accent. Hope you like it and the next on the list is the long awaited Crystal Ball part 4! :D

Posted: 8/31/20

Masterlist

---

(Y/n) = Your Name

~ * ~ * ~ = time skip

~ * ~ * ~

~ * ~ * ~ = POV switch

---

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

The front door slammed and shook the walls; Severus and his mother both jumped knowing what was soon to follow. His father was home and it didn’t sound like work had gone well again. His father walked into the kitchen where Severus was eating, his mother was wafting the cigarette smoke out the window before hastily dropping it into a water-filled pan in the sink and turned to her husband.

“They cut our pays. Again!” His father pulled on the fridge door so hard the entire thing moved forward several inches, scraping the tile.

That was Severus’ cue to escape to his room. He didn’t like being in the same room as either of his parents, though he could tolerate it when they were sober. All they ever did was order him around or ignore him on good days and yell at him on bad ones. Drunk, however, he knew what awaited him. He gathered his books and left his half-eaten cheese sandwich on his plate and turned to leave.

“You.”

His father’s gruff voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned, staring up at him as he took a long swig of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“You need to start earnin’ for this ‘ousehold.” He stepped closer and stared down at him over his large, hooked nose. His black eyes looked hazy and dark circles made his face look much older than he was. Anyone could look at his face alone and guess an age ten years older than he was, except his large square shoulders and huge bulging muscles would make anyone second guess themselves. He slid his jacket off himself and let it drop to the floor, flexing his arms and leaned over the doorway, blocking Severus’ exit. “T’morrow. I’m takin’ you ‘round to Malv’s wife’s store. They’re lookin’ for an extra ‘and.”

“Doin’ what?” Severus squeezed his eyes, regretting having spoken.

His father smirked and bent down to Severus’ hunched height. “Doin’ wh’ever they ask s’long as it pays.” He shoved him out of the kitchen and slammed the door.

Severus straightened his shirt and cursed to himself, heading upstairs. He closed his bedroom door and sat on the edge of his bed. He had plans tomorrow to do the homework he’d been putting off for the week. He was already falling behind in school, which wasn’t a good enough excuse to get out of doing work. It wasn’t like his parents cared whether he stayed in his disgusting school. His father had, on more than one occasion, talked to him about quitting and starting work in the mill, but there was no bloody way he was throwing out his only chance of leaving this horrid town.

He kicked his nightstand in frustration and winced as the leg snapped with a crunch and the whole thing came toppling over. Pencils and loose paper fell out, along with his black leather-bound journal. It was the most expensive thing in the house, given to him for his eighth birthday by his grandfather before he died.

His father had wanted to sell it, but it wasn’t even worth the cost of gas it took to get to the pawn shop across town. His grandfather had paid good money for it, and in the end, it stayed in Severus’ possession, used to hold his rubbish drawings throughout the years.

He picked it up and started sketching out the broken furniture and shading it as best he could. He sighed and closed it, throwing it back on the pile of loose doodles.

~ * ~ * ~

The next morning he picked out anything that didn’t have obvious patches or holes to wear. He even combed through his hair, per his mother’s orders, and brushed his teeth, ready for work. He dumped out his school supplies from his bag and packed his journal and a few pencils. He hated having nothing to do and carried it with him everywhere. He liked drawing in public because normally no one talked to him when he did, and if they did, he could ignore them with ease and pretended to be too focused on his art.

“Severus! Get down! Now!” His father’s deep voice roared through the house.

He growled to himself and slammed his bedroom door shut, marching down the stairs to where his father stood waiting with his arms crossed.

“Don’t make me late for work,” his father growled.

He was always late for work.

Severus nodded and slipped on his shoes, tucking the laces inside and pulled the door open. His father pushed him aside and walked out first, heading to his old grey car with the paint coming off the sides. He looked around for his mother but she was in the kitchen, smoking again.

“There food I can take? …For breaks?” he called out.

She didn’t respond and he headed out. He walked around to the passenger side and did his best to unjam the car door, finally needing help from his father to get it open. He sat down, hugged his bag to his chest, and buckled in.

~ * ~ * ~

He stared at the rain droplets racing down the window as they drove a few minutes into town. The shops were just opening as the car pulled up to the curve of a street of small and old looking store fronts. The most immediate store had a metal sign with their store name stamped on and rusting on all the edges. It was still in better condition than the wooden sign from the store next to it with bloated letters from all the years of rain.

His father slammed the door closed and walked around the car, pulling the passenger door open with such ferocity the car wobbled in place.

“I’ll pick you up after work. ‘Round seven. ‘ere’s your papers.” His father handed him three folded pieces of paper and pulled him out of the car, slammed the door closed and walked back around. “Don’t mess this up, Severus. Or you’ll be dealin’ with me.”

Severus nodded, clutching his papers and watched his father’s car pull into the street and head back around towards the large looming factory in the distance. The smoke from the factory mixed with the grey clouds, hiding any hints of the sun outside.

He covered the papers from the rain and walked the few steps to the door and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. He pressed his forehead to the window and peered inside, watching as a silhouette of a short woman approached.

He backed away as the door unlocked and a pale, sunken-faced woman with big bushy brown brows stared up at him through golden glasses. She pulled on her string of waxy pearls around her neck and looked him up and down.

He stared back at her and extended his hand with his papers his father had given him. She unfolded and shuffled through them, humming affirmatively after each one.

“I can use you.” She stepped back and let him in out of the rain into the yellow glare of the ceiling lights. “Was ‘oping you’d be… more like your father.”

She squeezed his arms and he recoiled into a shelf, hitting his head against the sharp wood.

“But I s’ppose jus’ your height will do.” She led him through several tight spaces between shelves of porcelain figures and around the front counter into the back room.

The back room was brighter than the main store, using whiter light, and there were larger stacks of boxes piled in the corner behind a single round table where someone sat reading.

“This is (Y/N). Do what you’re told. I’ll be back ‘round noon to check up on things ‘ere. Or might be back sooner. Don’ know yet.” She eyed him up and down with squinted eyes and exited the back room.

After a few awkward seconds the front door creaked open and closed. Severus stood there doing his best to avoid looking at (Y/n), instead looking down hoping his hair would hide his burning face.

~ * ~ * ~

A tall boy with long inky hair stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at his shoes, glancing up at you every few seconds, and clutching his beige tattered bag in his arms.

You set your book down and stood. “Sorry about my mum… She can be a bit…” you shrugged, not knowing exactly what word best described the creature that was your mother. “What’s your name?”

His eyes flashed to your face and back down to his shoes, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. “Severus.” He turned his head to look at the wall of advertisements for new porcelain figures and let his hair fall over his face.

“Welcome, Severus. It’s pretty easy what you’ll be doing. Just… restocking and opening boxes while I dust and sit at the counter.” You turn to face the boxes and brought one down on the table with a grunt. You pulled on the tape and opened it up, taking out the little porcelain figure wrapped in tissue and plastic. “You can just set them on that cart over there and wheel it out into the store.”

Severus looked over at the cart and nodded.

You stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to say anything or ask any questions but all he did was hang his bag on one of the hooks on the wall and avoid your eyes.

“The sheet there says what number box to open and how many figurines to take out every morning. Just… let me know if you have any questions or can’t find something… I’ll be in the front.” You closed the box and headed out, closing the door to the back room and went to flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’.

~*~*~

You spent the hour dusting the figures all over the store before finally sitting down on the stool behind the counter – a little high for your liking – and opened up your book once more. Severus had begun restocking the figurines, preferring to wonder around the store like a lanky giant than ask for your help. You tried concentrating on the words beneath you but watching him struggle to find the shelf full of porcelain ducks while carrying a glossy yellow one with a blue umbrella was entertaining enough.

The first customer of the day came through and bought about six of the forest series figures. As they walked out you spotted Severus’ look of disgust and laughed, catching his attention.

“You should see them over the Holidays. The shelves need constant restocking.” You watched a tiny smile grow and felt the air around get significantly lighter.

“But what are they for?” He stepped closer but avoided your gaze.

You shrugged, “They collect them.”

“Waste of money,” he mumbled and continued finding where the last of the figurines went.

~ * ~ * ~

It was around noon now and like she had said, your mother was back. She pushed the door open with her pink faux-leather purse and sneered at Severus in the corner as he replaced some figures a customer had just bought moments ago.

“Got anythin’ nicer to wear? You’re drivin’ down the prices with those pants of yours. They’re too short.”

“Mum,” you cut in before she could embarrass him further. “No one’s even noticed him.”

She turned back to Severus. “Ever think to tuck in that shirt?”

“No,” Severus snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest, somehow looking smaller than before.

Your mother scoffed and headed to the counter, shooing you out. “Go eat your lunches.”

You jerked your head to the back room, inviting Severus to join you. He shuffled in ahead, going straight for his bag.

You unwrapped the brown bag in the corner and took out your sandwich, turning back to Severus. He was bent over the table scribbling in a journal. You pulled the other chair out and sat down, peering over and seeing it was the beginnings of a doodle.

You watched him for a few minutes until he looked up and closed it.

“What were you drawing?” You finished one of your sandwich halves and waited for his reply.

His eyes flickered to you and he licked his lips, getting ready to answer. “Its… Just nothin’.”

“Your tongue was sticking out… You looked pretty concentrated.”

“I wasn’t drawin’ nothin’,” he growled and put his stuff back in his bag. He laid his head down, letting his hair spread out on the table.

You stretched out your finger and snuck a feel, smiling to yourself. You wrapped your last sandwich half and pushed it up to him. “Want my sandwich? I haven’t bitten it.”

He dragged his face up and looked down at the sandwich half next to his elbow. He looked back up at you and raised his brow.

“Take it.” You nudged it closer.

He took the sandwich and began eating. “I don’t take bribes, just to inform you.”

You gave a giggle and enjoyed the slight blush that spread over his cheeks. “You think I’m giving you my sandwich so that u can show me your art?” You leaned forward and grinned. “I’m just being nice.”

“Nice?” He shook his head, “No one’s just nice.”

“What?” You laughed. “People are nice all the time!”

He turned to you, furrowing his thick brows and leaned in. “Everyone wants somethin’. Even if it’s just to feel good ‘bout themselves.”

Your grin shrunk and you looked deep into his eyes, seeing he was speaking his truth, even if you disagreed. You sat back and mulled over what he said, seeing a bit of where he was coming from. What you didn’t understand is how someone could actually think that.

He set down his sandwich and got up from the table, walking over to the bathroom and locked it. You looked at his bag and thought back to the doodle he had been working on. You looked back at the locked door and back at his bag. What sort of stuff did he draw with a mentality like that? He frowned when he restocked, snapped angrily at people, and believed the world to be selfish.

You reach in his bag and pulled out his black leather journal, opening it from the back forward and flipped through pages until you found the first doodle. It was a scribbled mess, but it had begun to take shape into one of the tiny lamb figurines, cowering from a large grey wolf with an open drooling mouth.

You flipped to the next page and saw a broken stand and a few shattered bottles. The next page was a broken mirror and the next a burning house. The page after caught your eye. It was a swing set in the foregrounds and a group of teens talking by the slides of the playground he’d drawn. All of the teens had smiling faces and ice cream cones or popsicles in their hands. Were these his friends? But why did they look so far away? Regardless, his skills were amazing. Everything looked so detailed and precise.

“Couldn’t resist?” A cold low voice spoke from above.

Severus’ hands came down above you and snatched up his book. You turned around and stood to face him, red in the face with embarrassment and shame.

“I-I’m sorry I… I just… It was only a few pages.”

He was fuming, lips turned down with bared teeth. His eyes glistened as he clutched onto the journal. “You can keep the rest of your ruddy sandwich.”

“No, please. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking… I was just curious and I let it get the better of me… I really am sorry. I swear I only looked at a few drawings. I’m sorry. Really.” You were a fool for not realizing how upset he’d be. You’d thought worst case scenario he’d be annoyed, and once the band aid of you looking at his art was torn off, he’d be more open to going through it with you. Best case you’d put the journal back before he came back and your curiosity would be settled.

He stepped forward, towering over you. “No. You’re not. You got what you wanted… So why would you be sorry?”

“Because I didn’t consider your feelings. I thought you wouldn’t care so much about your art. I didn’t think you’d really care.” You hugged your arms closer and watched his expression change.

His furious black eyes took in your figure and he looked down at his book. His frown turned softer. “I don’t care. It’s pointless to care.”

He turned away from you and walked into the bathroom. Within seconds he was back out with empty hands and left the back room to continue stocking the shelves in the store. You made your way to the bathroom and saw he had turned the faucet on the book, soaking it in the sink.

Tears coated your eyes as you blinked, turning the other pages of the journal and seeing nothing but smeared figures and smudged faces. You hadn’t expected such an extreme reaction… but it was still all your fault. You should have realized some people could be very sensitive about their art… even if you hadn’t seen anything that personal in it.

~ * ~ * ~

The next four hours was spent in silence as you helped in the front desk and occasionally restocked some figurines. Severus had refused to even look at you, keeping his eyelids half closed in boredom the rest of the time and responded to only your mother.

The last customer left, and the shop was ready to close. The next hour was spent dusting and counting money until finally your father’s car pulled up on the curb.

“Time to close,” your mother pushed you and Severus out as she locked the shop door and dropped the key in her pocket.

Severus’ bag was noticeably more empty than it had been when he walked into the shop. You clutched your bag closer and felt the journal you had slipped into your bag. You weren’t really sure what you were going to do with it… but you wanted to make things right with him.

You father honked and your mother and you got in his car, leaving Severus standing outside the shop in the rain. You watched him sit against the door and pull his legs in, resting his head on his knees. Your father pulled away from the curb and you sat back, wondering what to do.

~ * ~ * ~

The night air was cold but the rain had stopped shortly after dinner. You gripped onto the handlebars of your bike and squinted at the signs as you rode passed. The torch in your hand kept flickering and the rows and rows of identical houses made biking all the way to Severus’ house in the dead of night seem like the worst idea of the century.

You kept your feet still as the wheels turned on their own down the hill, taking you to the last neighborhood of Spinner’s End. You stopped a few houses away from the house you believed to be Severus’. You took out the note where you’d written his address and shined your torch at the letters written sloppily on his dented mailbox.

You ditched your bike in a bush across the street and headed to his house. You placed your hand on the gate and breathed out, pushing it open and walking down his cobblestone walkway and up the two steps to his front door.

You knocked a few times and heard a door close inside and then quick footsteps. The front door swung open and a tall woman looked down at you. Her eyes made her look cross, but her down turned mouth gave off a sullen air about her. She looked you up and down and crossed her arms.

“S-sorry,” you stammered. “Can I speak to Severus?”

The woman’s sad mouth turned up at the ends. “Severus? And what would you wan’ with him?”

Did she find it funny you wanted to speak to him? “I’d just like to.”

Her smile pulled up higher to show her yellow crooked teeth. “Run ‘long back to where you came from, brasser. Come back when we ‘ave the money to spend.” She slammed the door.

Your mouth fell open and you backed away, shaking with anger. If you could go back several second you’d’ve hit her long pale face square in the nose. She may not have realized who you were and the fact your mother was currently employing her son, but that still didn’t giver her the right to talk to you that way.

You headed out of their property and noticed a shadow on the pavement coming from the house. You turned just in time to see a dash of black hair as Severus pulled his head back inside his window. You looked at the windows at the front of the house and made sure no one was watching you from there before heading around the brick wall to the left side of the house. Severus was hiding under the windowsill, only the top of his head was visible from down where you stood.

You climbed the low wall and shined your torch on the dead dried grass, spotting a ladder. You jumped down and dragged the ladder, pulling it out as long as it’d go, and propped it up on the side of the house. His window wasn’t that high up and the ladder seemed sturdy enough so you climbed, clutching your bag under your arm as best you could.

You reached the top and looked down into Severus’ eyes as he sat under his windowsill still with a red face. You sighed and looked around his room. His door was closed and it looked safe enough, away from the eyes and ears of his horrible mother.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Severus nodded and moved back awkwardly, still on the floor of his room.

You threw your bag in and ducked inside, doing your best to not fall on your face. You sat in front of him and pulled your bag close. “Severus, I wanted to talk to you and apologize.” You looked around his messy room. “Though I was hoping to do it at your front door but… I suppose this is still the least weird apology I’ve given in my life.” You smiled hoping to lighten the mood.

He shook his head and pulled down on his hair. “I heard… I-I mean…” He pressed his face down into his hands, hiding his red face. “I’m sorry my mam called you a… She… She ‘ates everyone. Please don’t…” He sighed.

You laughed, “Don’t worry. It’s not like you called me that.”

He looked up and watched you behind his hair as you pulled out his black journal.

“I… was a jerk earlier. I got curious and went behind your back… You don’t deserve that… So… Here.” You extended his notebook out to him.

He pushed his hair back and frowned. “It’s ruined. I soaked it.”

You nodded, “Well… The art is no longer in there. It was really smudged. But I cleaned it off as best I could and spent all evening drying it… The pages are dry and hold pencil led well enough again… See?” You flipped to the first page where you’d written:

‘I’m Sorry I’m Awful

Please Don’t Hate Me.’

He took it and flipped through it, feeling the paper with his long fingers and rubbing at the occasional left over smudge. He looked back up at you with still furrowed brows. “But why? We aren’t friends… What d’you expect to get from this?”

You raised your brow and pushed your hair aside. “Still so cynical. But you’re right. I do want something – Two things actually. One, for you to forgive me. And two, to be friends. You seem pretty alright and your art was really good, from what I could tell.”

His face softened and he looked back at his journal, closing it and placing it between you both. “Friends?”

You laughed. “Yeah. What? Have too many to squeeze me in?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just…” He gripped his knees and bit his lip. “D’you know we go to the same school?”

You blinked, taken completely aback. “We what? Really? I’ve never seen you around.” How had you not noticed him ever at school. It wasn’t that big of a school, and most students knew each other through their parents who most all worked at the mill.

He nodded, bringing his head lower and letting his hair cover his face again. “You’re too popular t’even know I exist.”

You laughed at that word. “Popular? I’m not popular.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“You’re always around all those people…”

You giggled, “They’re just my friends…” It suddenly struck you that he’d been watching you before. As you were cleaning up his journal you had noticed several groups of students he’d drawn. Besides the one at whatever park, some of the settings were school settings. But it hadn’t clicked that it was your school he had drawn. “Severus?”

He looked up, his face was no longer red, but a light pink blush remained on his pale cheeks.

“Did you want to be friends with me before? At school I mean?”

He shook his head.

You frowned, confused about what he was trying to say. If he didn’t want to be friends why was he watching you? Why did it seem he had an interest in you if he wanted nothing to do with you? “Then what? I don’t get it.”

He shook his head again. “Nothin’… I forgive you. You should go before my parents catch you in ‘ere. My mam will lose it… and you wouldn’t want to see that. Things get weird when she does.”

You nodded and stood, zipping up your bag and turned to the window. You wanted to stay longer, figure out what the hell was Severus’ secret. Why was he so secretive!

You swung a leg over and felt for the step, ducking through the window and finding the step again with your other foot. You looked down to make sure everything was okay and took a step down. You turned back and froze. Severus was back to kneeling next to the window and his face just inches from yours.

“S-sorry! I thought I should be close enough to catch you if the ladder started tiltin’…” His cheeks reddened even more and spread to his neck.

You nodded and looked into the deep wells of his eyes, seeing yourself reflected in their dark depths. He got closer, letting you stare at him longer.

Another explanation popped into your head, for why he’d been the one to know you existed despite never having met him. Why he’d observed you with your friends. Why he cared about your social differences….

“Do you have a crush on me, Severus?” you smiled.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly. The blush that had been spreading down his neck turned red again, and he looked away, giving you a curtain of inky hair. He turned back with more composed features. “Of course I don’t! Why would I? I-I just met you today and… and I was just sayin’ that stuff about school because I-I noticed you once. That’s all!” His voice was deep and harsh.

You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt at intimidation. “Just admit it! Why else would you be acting so weird about being friends and caring about how ‘popular’ I am even though I’m not?” You climbed back up the ladder and pushed him aside to climb back through the window.

He stood and squeezed his hands into fists, no longer cowering. “Just because I’ve seen you ‘round doesn’t mean I ‘ave a crush on you!”

You scoffed. “Do we have any classes together?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Do we have the same lunch together?”

“No.” He started tugging on his sleeve.

You smiled again. “There are over a thousand students in our crummy school and hundreds during lunches and somehow you know I’m not part of those hundreds in your lunch?” You laughed again. “Explain that.”

His face got even redder. “Well.. I-I… I-it…” He shut his mouth and clenched his jaw. “Fine. I DID. ‘appy?”

Your smile dropped. “‘Did’? When… Why did you stop?” Why did you care?

He huffed. “I told you. It’s pointless to care… about you…”

You looked down at his greying socks. You weren’t sure why his words kind of stung.

“Why d’you look like that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…” You bit your lip. “I think I… Liked? That you had a crush on me?”

He scoffed, “Why? S’you could feel good about yourself?”

You shrugged again, feeling tears grow in the corner of your eyes and wishing you could escape such an awkward turn of the argument.

There was a long pause.

“D-d’you like me?”

Your head shot up and your faced burned hot. His eyebrows were raised and his crossed arms were loosening the longer you took to respond. “I… might have taken an interest in… you.”

“You’re interested in me?” His face pulled up into a grin suddenly. “Is that what you’re sayin’?”

You scoffed, “I didn’t say that exactly!”

He laughed and stepped forward, still towering over you. “I felt you feel my hair! I was right! I knew it!”

Your jaw dropped and if your face wasn’t red before it was now the color of a tomato. You did remember doing that. “I… I don’t know why I did that!”

“That’s why you want me to admit I ‘ave a crush on you,” he shrugged and stepped back, looking as if he’d won.

“Aha!” You quickly put your finger up. “You DO have a crush on me!”

He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I’ve already won. You ‘ave a crush on me – and you didn’t even realize it.”

What had this day turned into. Being suddenly told this morning you’d have to train someone knew at the store and now it was passed midnight and somehow you’d accidently confessed a crush you’d also gotten today? The day was as messy as the clean up for his journal that now lay forgotten on the floor.

You held your hands up in defeat. “Fine… So maybe I do… But you do too!”

He curled his finger and pressed it to his lips. “Alright… I do…”

You smiled down at your shoes and stood there awkwardly for a minute before decided to just go for it. You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, accidently touching the corner of his mouth and pulled away.

Your face burned. “Ok… Bye – !” You turned and headed out the window, quickly climbing down and let the ladder down on the ground gently.

You climbed the brick wall and looked back up at Severus.

He was touching his cheek as he smiled and waved. “S-see you t’morrow!”

You put your hand to your mouth and giggled. “See you.”

He looked smug suddenly and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You quickly jumped down and ran to your bike, hopping on and peddling back up the hill, trying to pull your giant smile back to normal.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

Request: “may I request a muggle young sev x muggle reader please idk a story or headcanon really anything you want I just love the way you write young severus okie dokie thank you for reading 🥺❤” – Anon

---

Welcome to General Taglist!!:

@bionic-otp

@severuslovebot

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Note

Werewolf Thomas x Merman Sammy.

This might end up taking multiple chapters, in addition to me digging in too deep, this ship in general just gives off a petty enemies, to reluctant allies due to supernatural circumstances, to ‘hey you’re not as bad as I thought.’, to friends, to lovers vibe.

Occam's razor indicates that the simplest explanation to a scenario is also the most likely scenario to be the true one.

For example: when an animation studio suddenly closes down and gets condemned, people who are on the outside looking in are much more likely to blame the studio's poor money management than go look for some extraordinary truth. That, paired with the workers of the said studio also coming out to site the terrible conditions of the place as an added cause for the studio's demise. When people have to work long hours with little pay to show for it in a dingy, gloomy, constantly-falling-apart studio that clearly wasn't going anywhere except six feet under or lower, they aren't exactly motivated to work hard or happy.

The Hunger was intense, growing beyond mere gnawing and was now consuming the cursed mechanic. The first change he felt was his teeth, the Curse deciding it was easier to make them all fall out at once so his new ones would grow in. He cut up his own tongue on the newly-made fangs. Call it an act of mercy or an act of mockery, but the tongue followed the teeth's example, falling out altogether so that the tongue of a wolf could grow in.

No one batted an eye when a majority of the studio's former workers left with some of them being untraceable, the lucky ones moved on to greener and happier pastures, others simply got a change in scenery, and sadly, accidents happen all the time in such an unsafe studio, people got severely injured in there all the time, so it was gut-wrenching for many, but not a shock to discover that it was common for unlucky people to lose their lives in the Dancing Demon's domain.

His entire body burned on the inside and outside, taking off his clothes did nothing for him as his new, thick coat grew in, a coat that was the same pitch black as his hair, at least, most of it was. The change did not hurt as much as he thought it would. As painful as it sounded when his bones became a crackling choir that reminded him of fireworks, it was not pure agony, he was sore, afraid, and so, very, very, hungry, but he was physically fine.

No one suspected anything like somebody intentionally sabotaging the many pipes that pumped ink through the entire building, that would just be silly! It was more than obvious that the pipes got the same treatment as the rotting wooden walls: they were ignored until it was too late. With all the wood, paper, flammable ink, candles, no windows, and avid smokers in that place, it was only a matter of time before that place went up in flames.

Colors began to dim and fade out leaving him with vision that could only see black, white, and the several shades of gray inbetween them. The trade off with his senses made itself clear as his sense of smell and hearing both grew stronger, he could barely think as the smells and sounds his human self had been blind to came to him at full force, overwhelming the mechanic. He held back the urge to scream and call for help, he knew none would come, unless it was the dogcatcher at this point. However he would not hold back the urge to whine, whimper and cry, as pathetic as he looked and sounded, he would at least give himself that mercy, even if he didn't deserve it.

No one thought the ink machine was anything more but an expensive and stupid project that definitely sped up the studio's already fast decline, but only with it's mere presence. Honestly, a machine that made models out of ink, wouldn't it be cheaper and easier to make a statue of your beloved mascots out of plastic or something like that?

Thomas yelped in surprise when the tail grew in, it felt like somebody gave his spine a good sharp yank. He was furious, scared, even remorseful as he knew he was responsible for this happening to himself and possibly others knowing Mr. Drew, and by god, did he want to sink his teeth into something.

No one except for crazy cross-clutching worrywarts who want to spoil every one else's fun and or conspiracy theorists would assume that the Little devil darling who graced the comics and silver screens for at least a decade would have literal satanic magic going on behind the scenes, no matter how screwy the man in charge seemed.

He was starving all day ever since the ritual, but now that the changes were over, he felt hungrier than ever before, like his stomach was a black hole that would make him consume everything in his path.

No one would ever seriously suggest that magic was real and led to being the studio's final nail in the coffin instead of becoming its savior like it's founder had wanted it to.

In the moment, Thomas Conner believed that Occam's razor was bullshit.

The mechanic knew what he'd seen, he knew to an extent what he took part in, he saw what happened to some of the unluckier members of the "Missing" studio workers, and most importantly of all, he experienced what he just went through. There was no 'simple' or 'normal' explanation for it; the ritual failed and as a result, he and a handful of other people had gotten cursed.

Here the new wolf was, squeezing his now much larger body underneath his bed to do nothing but cower like a frighted animal while trying to convince himself not to panic or to eat his pet snake. Keeping his human mind at the moment was both a blessing and a cur- -some extra salt to rub into his fresh wounds.

On one hand, the fact he was still smart enough to know better than to jump out the window and follow his nose for food like his instincts were telling him to was a lifesaver that kept him safe from animal control. On the other hand; if he was a beast in mind, he would at least be doing something more productive than sulking in his apartment thinking about anything else other than how badly he got fucked over, how his life was in shatters and how he had nobody but himself to blame for it (Well, aside from Joey, but that wasn't the point).

While far from ideal, his current plan was to remain under that bed, try his best to go to sleep, and occasionally chew its legs to stop himself from going on a rampage. He might not be the most supernaturally informed person, but he had seen enough werewolf horror flicks to know that nothing good would come if he gave into his hunger or if he tried to leave. Best case scenario; he'd become as sick as a dog after eating something he found in the garbage. Worst case scenario; Somebody decides that he'd make a great living room rug and BANG!

And then, his ears perked up as he heard the song.

It was a simple, repetitive tune, made with a music box maybe? It was the first time he heard it yet it felt familiar to him. The song itself was muffled, used a lot of ambiance in its melody, and if he strained his ears enough, he could almost pick up the sound of a voice singing along with it, but it was far too faint for him to tell who or what was singing, let alone what the lyrics to the song were. It sounded nice in spite of it's strangeness, but it gave him goosebumps. He knew it wasn't playing from the radio, he only kept it on when he was fixing something at home.

The curious wolf struggled to push a window open with his snout to figure out where it was coming from. He was making progress, the song did sound slightly less muffled now that he was poking his head out the window. Was it just him, or did the tune become faster? And it was also louder and more frantic, and he swore that the constantly repeating motif sounded like something he knew. The mechanic never considered himself to be a man with a keen ear for music, but he knew he heard it before.

Three short notes, three slightly longer notes, three more short notes, again and again and again repeating endlessly...---...Wait a minute. Thomas didn't recognize that pattern from a song, he recognized that that was a call for help!

"Don't do it..." He grumbled to himself as he put his paws up on the windowsill. "You don't know what'll happen, or if you'll even get there in time. Just go back inside and you'll figure out what to do with yourself in the morning."

The song, almost as if it was aware he was trying to ignore it like he was ignoring his hunger, grew louder and faster.

"Don't give in..." The wolf turned back. "You can't help anyone like this anyway, you'll only end up hurting yourself."

It... started to die down, back to its regular, chilling melody and grew even softer. Flickering away like a candlelight in the cold.

"Don't..." The wolf let out a very tired sigh as he looked out the window. "Oh fuck me."

Thomas leapt out the window and sped towards the source of the song, not caring who or what saw him in the city that never sleeps, he bolted directly into the forest. He tried to block out the new sounds of various creatures he couldn't hear before as well as the new smells of the earth underneath his paws and the plants all around him.

Strange marks were on the ground, they looked like someone dragging themselves through the dirt and the marks themselves smelled vaguely of fish and ink.

The song, while faint was very close, he was hot on the mysterious caller's trail! In fact, the wolf's new sense of smell started to become useful as he picked up some familiar scents in the woods; the smell of ink, smoke from a fire, and the smell of cologne- Wait, he recognized that specific cologne, it was that fancy European brand that the "missing" hot-headed music director used to keep himself from smelling like cigar smoke, vomit, and despair.

And the voice of the singer in the distress call 'song' did sound like him now that he was close enough to hear it. He felt a pit of dread in his stomach that almost made him forget his hunger. He knew that the musician was far too prideful to call for help for anyone unless this was his very last option and his will to live made the difficult task of overpowering his ego.

Squelch.

Almost confirming his fears and adding a new one that he was too late, the mechanic made the mistake of looking down and saw that he stepped on a severed leg. A black, tar-like substance that smelled like ink and rotten meat was squeezed out of the part of the thigh that should've been attached to a person.

"...Mr. Lawrence?" He hesitantly called out, thankfully getting him an exhausted groan in response. "Lawrence, where are you?"

"Here." A hoarse yet relieved sounding voice answered. "Look down."

The wolf looked down into a shallow pool to see what had become of the musician. If he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't deny that the music director was always easy on the eyes, and while the curse effected him drastically, that fact about him didn't change.

The water was clear enough to show off the musician's jet black, fish-like tail which glistened in the moonlight, the still human half of his body went through some changes as well; his hands were webbed and clawed, unlikely to properly hold any instrument, let alone use it, his torso, arms, and neck had patches of black scales scattered about haphazardly like splashes of paint on a canvas. Aside from the siren's new set of teeth (which looked like they could haunt anyone's nightmares), waist-long hair when it was previously shoulder length hair, and glassier eyes, the man's head seemed relatively unchanged.

"Could you stop gawking!?" Sammy re-positioned himself to keep his tail out of sight, or at least he tried to, the damn thing was two thirds of his body and he didn't exactly have something to cover himself up with. "I'm not exactly 'thrilled’ about this... Change, for lack of a better term."

"That's one way to put it." The mechanic almost let out a sympathetic chuckle. "I’d never thought I’d be saying this, but it’s great to see you haven’t died yet.”

“Why thank you.” The merman sarcastically responded. “That’s exactly why I went through all the trouble of literally singing my fucking lungs out!” He exclaimed while gesturing to a pair of charcoal-black things that the wolf previously thought were rocks. “To hear you tell me that ‘it’s great I haven’t died yet’.”

The wolf rolled his eyes.

“So why did you go through all the trouble for summoning me here then? Aside from the whole ...fish thing, you seem perfectly fine.”

“It... wasn't intentional.” The fish-man begrudgingly admitted, his voice sounded bitter, but his eyes shone with fear. “I wasn’t thinking about who or what would hear me or come at the moment. My body was falling apart before my eyes and all that was on my mind during it was; ‘Oh god, I’m going to die here, aren’t I?! And if not, my life will be ruined beyond repair!’. And when I sang out as a panicked response, you became the first to show up. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The siren swam to the other side of his aquatic prison and sighed resignedly.

Tom’s ears folded back in guilt, It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the musician was cursed by the failed ritual HE played a giant part in. As strongly as he disliked the musician, it didn’t feel right to leave him like this; alone, scared, and immobile in a place that could even spell out his death if he was unlucky enough.

He walked over to the other side of the pool and laid down beside the edge of it.

“Hey, you don’t need water to breathe, right?”

The siren looked confused.

“I’ve been breathing air just fine, in fact, I think one of the few advantages to this new body is that it replaced my old lungs with healthier ones. Why are you asking?”

“Climb on my back and I’ll take you out of here, granted, I don’t know where we’re gonna go, but where ever it is, it’ll be better than sitting around waiting for your pool to dry up.”

The merman, while hesitant, did climb up on the wolf man’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck to keep him from falling off, the wolf stood up and ran deeper into the woods.

#bendy and the ink machine #thomas connor #sammy lawrence #fanfic #sammy x thomas #body horror

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achliegh · 3 years

Text

The Princes and The Frogs

Chapter 9

Masterlist : )

Alright y’all, this is not your normal little fairytale. I repeat NOT NORMAL HAPPY GO LUCKY FAIRYTALE, this is blatantly much darker than Disney. Even though those movies are pretty gruesome if you think about it, this also will not have any musical numbers but it is still based in NOLA. The time period is going to be modern. Sorry if this isn’t your cup of tea.

TW/CW: Voodoo, Dark magic, Dark thoughts, Kidnapping, Unwanted sexual attention, Smut, Arguing, Drama, Questioning Sexuality, GORE

@domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

“When you guys get out of here you won’t be yourselves, okay?” Sommer was whispering to them as she led them down a claustrophobic hallway that really needed to be mopped. “You have to find Nadya and Fritz.”

“Fritz is dead!” Finn aggressively whispers back at her glaring daggers, just because he didn’t know Fritz for long didn’t mean his death meant nothing to Finn.

“I just talked to him a couple hours ago, he did have a mild concussion but he was very much alive. That is how The Shadowman gets you, he shows you things that aren’t there. But, he can easily make them actually happen.” She stops in front of a rusty door that was so badly taken care of that there was a literal hole in the door the size of Logan’s fist. They shared a look, nerves washing over them.

“So… He’s okay?”

“Yes, but know” She looks at him with a small smile, “He already knows you’re in love with another. Also, another is in your destiny.” She glances at Logan then looks back at the door taking a deep breath. “Okay, Nadya and Fritz will be back at the cottage waiting for you and any others you can save, you’re their last hope.” She opens the door and shoves the two inside.

They look around the dim, humid room. The red warming lights everywhere made them sweat instantly, as their eyes adjusted they took notice of some very important things. There were cages of reptiles and amphibians everywhere, with names on the cages, names they heard somewhere before.

In a large bare tank there was a bright Copperhead snake with the name:

Lilly

Next to that was a tank with a little vegetation and water, a large Cotton Mouth was looming in the corner:

Sirius

A plastic kiddie pool with some sand was seen in the floor, in the water was a small alligator, There was a cage around the pool with a wood block holding the name:

Thomas

Up on the shelves were two tanks, both had a lizard each. One looked to be a broadhead skink:

Jackson ( Nado )

The other, a Texas Horned lizard:

Remus

“Finn… these are some of the missing people.” Logan walks over to the tank named Jackson and lightly taps on the glass. The Lizard runs over and tries to crawl up the glass.

“All but Leo...” Little did they know The Shadowman’s favorite pet was on him at all times.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #princess and the frog

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temptingempress · 3 years

Text

The Mafia’s Princess J.hs (2)

Summary: “I can’t loose you because if I loose you I loose myself. You’re all I have left.” she begged him to put the gun down. Her bloody knees splashed into the mud. Helicopters surrounded them and the sirens were getting closer and closer but she could think about was him. The man whom she fell in love with, standing in front of them. Gun pointed towards his head.

This is a HoseokxOc story but feel free to think of her as y/n. I just didn't want to call her y/n so I used my own character that you'll see in a lot of my stories but her mood and temperment will change in each story.

Warning: A bit of sexual interaction but nothing too much, weapons, skin damage, cursing, DIOR FREAKING HOSEOK. AKA: SUPERIOR HOSEOK.

Previous: https://temptingempress.tumblr.com/post/639443379410927616

Hauling Areum away in his arms from the vent into his arms, he opened the window just to see that the cops and dogs were guarding the entire motel, just waiting for them to come back and attack. He had to think and he had to think fast or else they’ll both be dead meat. He looked around and spotted one place where the dogs nor the cops have reached yet. The garbage bin. Of course, it was disgusting but it was the only chance they got.

Hoseok’s P.O.V

I sigh as I held Areum close to my chest, there’s no way that she could be seen by the police or else it’s pretty much over for her and her family. I quickly set Areum down being careful not to to injure her even more than I already did. I had some spare time until the cops could reach this area. Taking my jacket off, I carefully wrapped it on her wounded leg so no infection would begin to grow. I had to get her back home and I had to do it fast. There she could be met with a medic. This all has me wondering if I should just drop her off at the place she belongs and leave her be. All I am is trouble in her life. I am in everybody's and I really dont give a shit. I’ve become my own nightmare that lost it’s mercy ten years ago but when it comes to her. I swear I’d do anything. I’ve become so selfish and allowed my heart to become enslaved in chains to her love. To her affection. To the way she smiles or the way the moonlight touches her soft skin.

Love is tortuous, I feel myself going on a never ending rollercoaster with her. She was the worst thing that ever happened to me but the best thing at the same time. She can’t let me go and that’s the worst part about this relationship because I know at some point she’s going to have to let me go. Not that I want to go. I want to be her dream man and offer everything she wants that she deserves but not off of blood money. I’ve never thought that one time in my life I’d be regretting being a mafia lord. Love is powerful.

All this goes through my mind as I picked her up once more and jumped into the trash can, where there were a lot of bags. Yes, it’s risky to possibly get stabbed by glass shards or bitten by a rat but it was better than prison. Our landing sound was muffled by the plastic bags. The cops were approaching so I closed the bin and hid myself and Areum to the best of my ability. There happened to be a small hole that I peeped through to see if the cops were going along their way but they weren’t. They were just guarding the whole hotel as well as their dogs. We needed a distraction so I picked up a rusted old wrench and while they werent looking aimed it at the highest window that was out of the cop’s eyesight, so of course they wouldn’t see the wrench. Once the glass broke the cops shouted and ran towards the window, holding their guns up. I took Areum when the coast was clear and silently got out of there, running far away into the woods. Once I was far enough, I slung Areum onto my back and looked into my suitcase for a pager. “I need a car sent to Eastwood Urgently.”

Eastwood was about 5 miles away but it was the only place where I knew to navigate to from here. My pager dings before a man starts to talk “Yes sir, it will take us fifteen minutes. Parked in the garage sir.”

“Thanks Jungkook. Coming home soon, prepare med for Areum. She got a bog bite...” I looked at Areum’s leg. Lines of slightly opened bloody flesh lined along her legs “And a bit of a scratch.”

As I kept walking on the cops were soon long gone or so I think. You never know in this field of work. I had a long ways to go and there was no way Areum could walk on her feet. She wasn’t very heavy so I could handle it. Walking through nature was quite nice actually. It’s not something I usually do. I had to make it to Eastwood before the sun rose because if not I could get caught by someone. I felt Areum shift her head on my back, and soon her hips.

“Baby?” I say to her as she regains her conscious. I went to a tree and sat her down onto the leaves so she could wake up and I could take a small break before we move again.

Areum’s P.O.V

An instant sting shot onto my leg as if somebody took sharp nails and dragged it along on my skin. “Augh!” I whimpered as I reached for the long bloody scratch. I saw that a sweater was wrapped around my bloody wounds. I don’t even remembered what happened after being in that vent. All I remember was darkness. “It hurts.” my voice cracks as my hands tried to rub down the cut to attempt to make it feel better but my attempts only made it worse. I wasn’t used to all this. I mean, small scars and such were common but this? My eyes began to water as the pain only got worse. It wouldn’t go away. Hoseok knelt towards me, caressing my cheeks. “Hey, you’re alright.”

Areum felt Hoseok’s heavy breaths as he continued to walk with her in his arms. Two hours passed and they were far out of the cop’s sight. They were almost to their destination but Hoseok’s steps became slower. Areum spoke “Stop, I could walk on my own now.” Hoseok shook his head as he kept walking. Sure, he was tired and he exhausted. He could just pass out right then and there but he wasn’t going to let go of her. “Hoseok.” Areum spoke louder as her fingers gripped his shirt. “Let me go.” “You’ll get hurt more Areum, I’ve already done enough to you!” He didn’t let go her, he couldn’t let her go but soon enough he had to let her go. “Let’s take a break.” he panted. Areum’s P.O.V

I laughed a little as he had to let me go sooner or later. Some long scratched lined my leg and I still felt the sting but it wasn’t unbearable. I could walk on my own now, well, at least limb. By looking at Hoseok slumped down on a tree I had to walk at this point “Okay, just get on my shoulders.” He panted and knelt down. I chuckled a bit as I tightened the ‘band aid’ Hoseok put on my cut. “No love.” I push Hoseok’s shoulders back up. “I need to start doing things on my own.” Five years ago. Areum’s P.O.V

The evening of the ball was wonderful to say the less but as the sun set over the horizon the part I dreaded came. The dance. Where my parents set up certain men from different kingdoms to dance with me. Expecting me to find my one and only true love but the truth was I liked none of these stuck up petty men. They think they all have me at their fingertips when really they all disgust me. With their pristine suits, perfect smiles, and expensive rings. I was so sick of seeing all of them but especially one of them, Namjoon.

Namjoon was the richest prince there was. Everyone knew him, loved him, and loathed him. He was the number one running to marry in my parents list but certainly not on mine. Taking a class of champagne before the dance I saw Namjoon coming towards me. Even down to the way he walks irritates me. Even though he didn’t do anything to me I just didn’t want to marry him. I didn’t want him to take me away to wherever he lived and trap me as his little house wife. Oh yeah, might I mention, all of Namjoon’s ex wives told me not to marry him because he’s demanding, bratty, and a so called womanizer.

He gave me a smile and fixed his glasses and I returned with a nice gesture. Coming close he looked down to me, admiring every aspect of my long golden dress. He finally spoke “Good day my lady, I’m looking forward to out dance.” I just smiled and nodded, just because I hated him didn’t mean I had to be rude to the guy. Even though I really wanted to punch his ass to ten buck two. His next words to me made me gag my champagne. “Maybe I could get more than a dance by the end of tonight.” He swayed away with a wink. Now I really wanted to get out of this place. That man was the epitome of sickness. The bell rung and it was already time for the dance. All the princesses gathered in front of the princes. I took my position right in front of Namjoon. The kings and queens oversaw from the tall stories. Overlooking their daughters with binoculars, seeing if they could see anything “magical.”

The dance has begun and we all followed the elaborate and precise steps to the rhythm. Princes caught us by our waist and held onto our hands tight. Twirling all around the dance floor I soon was caught by Namjoon. My soon to be king. He smirked down onto me as his hand traveled down my waist. I gave him a naïve smile but I really knew what he was doing all along. I couldn’t be more happy to spin again into another prince’s arms but Namjoon seemed disappointed that my body left his presence.

The dance went on and on and on. “I think we have found the one for Namjoon, may he have your daughter in marriage?” Namjoon’s father exclaimed loud enough for me to hear. My body went into full shock, I just wanted to get out of there. I knew my parent’s would say yes since they’ve been rooting for us.

Spinning

My eyes caught the guards running outside of the palace, everyone seemed distracted so I decided to discreetly take my leave. I lifted my long golden dress up and ran to where the guards were running towards. They led me all the way outside. I heard one of the guards running close so I pressed my back onto the brick wall surrounded by bushes so they wouldn’t see me. “There he is!” One of them yelled and chased after a man. I tried to get a closer look but all I could see was a leather black mask and all black attire. He seemed to have a black turtle neck a buckles along his chest. Strange, how could he even get into the castle’s quarters. I knew I shouldn’t of but I followed the thief, looking for some new excitement. The guards lost him but I knew exactly where he was heading, the maze. He was taking a shortcut to the maze. One that could be missed by the guards. It was strange that he knew where everything was in this castle, was he one of our workers before? He entered the maze and I came after him. I saw something shiny in his hands, aw it was my bracelet. As I followed I stepped on the noisiest branch.

Dang

The thief turned back, pulling out a black gun and it sure did look terrifying. Something that’s never allowed on the grounds of the castle. “Who goes there.” He spoke. “Come out or I will shoot.”

I didn’t really have a choice, the last thing I wanted to do tonight was get shot. Well, maybe it was better than getting engaged to Namjoon. I came out of the bushes and allowed my dress to flow down. I bowed at the thief lifting two sides of my dress up. Once I analyzed his face might I say... He wasn’t bad looking, he looked pretty good for a thief actually. “Princess Bailey.” The thief stood there for a bit, probably in shock he’s seeing me out of anyone. Hoseok’s P.O.V

This day couldn’t get anymore stranger. I put the bracelet in my pocket but held the gun tight in my hand. I wasn’t afraid to get royal blood splattered on my clothes. “Who do you come with. Where are the guards.” For some reason she just stood in front of me. Staring me down as if I was some sort of toy in the toy store. She took a step closer to me but I took two steps back, holding my gun higher to her head. If I shot at anytime she would for sure dead. This was one bold princess. She spoke once again “That bracelet, it’s mine. But, you could have it.” “I wasn’t asking.” “What is it for might I ask? Will you pawn it?” She seemed super calm when seeing a whole criminal right in front of her. The biggest one of Korea that is. “It’s for someone.” “Oh a gift? How kind of you sir. If you asked me I would’ve gave it to you.” “You don’t even know me. “ “Who are you then.” The princess smiled as she stepped closer again “I come in peace, please lower your gun.” Not budging still I get a small intercom out of my pocket and spoke “Bring the helicopter in the maze.” “Helicopter? That’s not very discreet. This castle is filled with security tools. You’ll surely get shot down.” She sung as her heels kicked the rocks on the ground. I thought about it and she did have a point. “Cancel the helicopter..” I turned the intercom off and looked at the princess. “Okay, then what do you suggest?” The princess smiled and turned to me. Happy that I gave her an inch. This may be a big trap but at this point I didn’t have a choice.

“Follow me.” She hums.

Hello everyone, I hoped you liked the part two of the Mafia’s Princess. Now you know a little backstory, I’m curious if anybody reads my story. If so could you please comment or anonymously tell me so I am more encouraged to continue it? Thank you so much and tell me what you think so far. I might accept request pretty soon! Thank you so much for reading :)

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whumpflumpthump · 3 years

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Mac Whump...again...

Hello again!! I’m back with more Mac whump. However, this fic doesn’t have as large of a focus on whump as my last ones have, because I got kind of carried away... There is also some very questionable science in this fic, but it is based on facts. I will admit this isn’t my best work, but I wanted to get something out today, so here it is...

Warnings: This fic contains a gunshot and other related violence, so if this triggers you, please be safe!!

As always, if you guys have any MacGyver related prompts you would like me to fill, just send me an ask!

So, without further ado, enjoy!!

...

As Mac was running through the woods, being chased by a highly dangerous, armed, and not to mention gigantic gang member, her was wondering how things had gotten so bad, so quick. It had started out as a simple mission, infiltrate a gang of drug dealers who had recently started meddling in more dangerous affairs, just long enough to allow Riley to download some information that they could use to take down the gang. However, as with most missions the team went on, that was not how it ended up. The gang had somehow gotten wind of who they really were, and that unfortunate slip had led to Mac’s current, tiring predicament.

A gunshot rang out through the trees, and Mac risked a quick glance around to each side, making sure Riley and Jack were both still okay. Jack had turned around to return fire, and Riley, seeing Mac’s concerned glance, gave a small thumbs up. Mac sighed in relief before focusing again on not getting shot by the increasingly aggressive gang members chasing him. However, he wasn’t able to relax long, the team was quickly tiring, it had been a long trip and they were all running on low sleep. The hostiles were gaining quickly. He needed to come up with something soon, or this would not end well.

He looked around, and an idea slowly formed in his mind. About forty yards to the left, there was an old shack that looked like an old wood shop. Why it was there? He had no idea, but he was thankful regardless. If he could just get over to it, he would be able to use the saw dust as an explosive, and use it to cause a distraction that should give them enough time to escape and call for backup. But, in order to do that, he would need a distraction of his own. He turned around once again to look at Jack, and nodded his head towards the wood shack, hoping he would get his message.

It turned out all their years working together had paid off, because Jack nodded and almost immediately turned around and started firing.

“Take that you good-for-nothing scumbags. I’ll have you know, no one messes with an angry Jack Dalton and gets away unharmed.”

Jack’s threats seemed to work, at least for the moment. The gang seemed distracted, enough so that they didn’t seem to notice when Mac quickly darted over to the wood shop. As he approached, he was happy to see that his assumption was correct, and there was saw dust scattered in piles all over the ground.

Mac immediately set to work, gathering up the driest bits of dust he could find, and made a pile on an old table. After he had collected a good amount of sawdust, he started to look for something airtight to place them in. After about five seconds of frantic searching, Jack’s firing speed was slowing down as he was running out of ammo, Mac found what he was looking for, a roll of plastic wrap used to cover the wood when it rained. He quickly tore off a decent sized section, and wrapped the saw dust “bomb” he had created, leaving a small hole where he placed a rolled up piece of paper, found on the table for some kind of plans or something, to act as a wick.

As he was busy trying to form his makeshift bomb, Mac was oblivious to the gang member walking up behind him, gun raised and aimed at his chest. Right as he was about to light the paper, he heard a shout.

“Mac, watch out!”

It was Riley, eyes wide, as she watched the scene play out from safely behind a group of trees. She was presumably trying to call for help, before yelling at Mac.

He quickly turned around, and saw the gun aimed at his heart.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched the man’s finger move towards the trigger, a cold smile playing across his face. Just as his finger arrived at the trigger, he was tackled to the ground by Jack, who then promptly knocked him out with a swift right hook to the jaw, but not before a single shot was fired.

...

Mac’s mouth formed a small “o,” as the bullet tore into his body, not at the chest like it was intended, but in his right leg, right above his knee.

He fell to the ground as his leg gave out, and landed hard on the forest floor. For a few seconds, he was blissfully numb as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.

He was not so lucky for long.

First, there was a throbbing pain as the blood poured out of the wound, and then came the burning. A searing pain that felt as though his leg was on fire shot through his body, causing him to shudder. His breaths were coming in short gasps as he tried to look down to assess the damage.

Blood was pouring out of the bullet hole, and pooling on the leaf-covered ground. That was as far as he got in his examination, before Jack was kneeling next to him, gently pushing his shoulders back to the ground.

“Hey bud, you need to stay still for me okay?” he said, and then got his first real look at Mac’s injury.

“Oh Mac, that does not look good. I’m so sorry bud, if I had been a little quicker...”

He was cut off by Mac, “Not...your fault.” Mac was already starting to lose focus, and blood was still pouring out of the wound. He looked down again, “How bad?”

“Well, its not great...can’t see an exit wound, so the bullet is still in there. From the looks of things, your femur might be fractured too.”

Mac nodded, before closing his eyes tight as another shudder racked through him.

Jack seemed to have realized that he needed to stop the bleeding, so he was back kneeling next to Mac.

“Okay bud, this might hurt, but I need to try and slow the bleeding. Riley, what’s the ETA of exfil?”

That seemed to snap Riley out of her shock, and she pulled out her phone, while Jack started to push on Mac’s leg.

“Four minutes!”

Mac gasped as Jack pushed the bullet farther into his leg, causing it to put pressure on the already injured bone. Black spots were forming in his vision as his breaths got shorter, he was rapidly losing his battle to stay conscious.

“Sorry Mac, we can’t take the bullet out, and you’ve already lost enough blood as it is.”

“It’s...k” Mac said, his eyes fluttering.

“Come on bud, stay with me. You’re doing so well, just a few more minutes,” Jack said, in vain, as Mac’s eyes had finally closed and he fell unconscious, going limp in the dirt.

“Riley, how much longer?”

“Two minutes now,” Riley responded, looking nervously at the blonde between them.

Jack checked Mac’s pulse, and sighed in relief as he felt it, slower than normal, but there.

They both waited out the next two minutes in silence, and when exfil came, they moved out of the way as the medics lifted Mac’s prone form onto a stretcher, and got into the truck.

As the truck drove away, they were both thinking the same thing, why was it always Mac?

...

Thanks for reading!! I just wanted to let you know that tomorrow should be another creepy Murdoc fic, and I am working on a continuation of my first Murdoc fic, which should be done some time this week.

Thanks again, have a wonderful day!!

#MacGyver #macgyver whump #macgyver whump fanfiction #macgyver whump fanfic #fanfiction #mine #gunshot wound #leg wound #long tags #thanks for reading #angus macgyver whump #mac whump #jack dalton #riley davis #Angus MacGyver

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hansoulo · 4 years

Text

ain’t it a gentle sound (the rolling in the graves) - pt. 5

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader

Warnings: grief, heavy angst, mentions of Hard Emotions and Past Events. it’s not super specific and it’s in the context of healing/working through those things but ik reading that can be hard so pls take care!! also talks about hospitals? no gore or anything but :P reader and horacio have a mini therapy sesh and then make out for a bit >:)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: it’s taken almost a month but here u go 💀

masterlist playlist moodboard gif by @el-cheung

You’d been given time off from your shifts at the hospital, courtesy of the whole “kidnapped and experienced blunt trauma to the head” thing, but you were due back soon and knew you couldn’t keep dragging your feet. As much as you wanted to dig your heels in the sand, to bury your head in it until everything was muffled and coarse and static, you couldn’t. Not forever. You had a job and responsibilities and friends and a fucking life to get back to but everything still felt splintered and raw, pieces that were just starting to come together breaking apart again and leaving you, sitting on the cold tile of your bathroom floor heaving gulps of air like a drowning man and feeling just as desperate.

Everything had been too much, too slow and too fast at the same time and you just needed… space. To think. To try and not feel so fucking guilty and rotted from the inside. It had been eating at you, gnawing aimlessly for so long you hardly even noticed it before pushing it back down but now, now it was tearing you apart limb from limb with slow-snapping teeth, screaming everything and everyone you’d been trying to forget since this whole shitshow started. You used to be normal.

You used to make grocery lists and get called pet names and go to dinner parties. You used to gossip with the other military wives, sip wine with a warm hand on your knee and a chest against your back. You used to have so many things. Then… then you didn’t. And you were just starting to be okay with that because you could at least pretend you had him. For a moment, you did. You had him and he had you for a brief, sparking moment that felt like fire and tasted like blood but was the best thing you’d ever known.

Now you didn’t have anything. And it was your own damn fault.

You could hear Dr. Reyes’ voice in your head now, chiding you with a shake of her graying head. It’s not your fault, she’d say to you as you sat on the crinkly fake leather of her office couch, wringing a tissue in your hands until it chafed your palms. She’d called a few times since you’d come back - back, not home, because it wasn’t really home - concerned as to why you hadn’t been making it to your weekly sessions. Her voice was warm, familiar and grounding and a little pitying but you didn’t really mind. It was kind of in a therapist’s job description to pity. Maybe that wasn’t the right word but you appreciated the concern all the same, assuring her that no, you were alright and just not feeling very well. The last part wasn’t even a lie, because the ache knotting something awful in your head had yet to subside.

Horacio had taken you to the hospital after he got you out of the safe house, sitting in the waiting room and dwarfing the little plastic folding chair. He was still wearing his tactical vest, the gun holster digging into your hip as you leaned on him. You could barely string two sentences together with the bright fluorescent lights glaring in your eyes, so you’d screwed them shut and pressed your forehead into his chest, listening as he explained what happened to the receptionist.

You remembered her asking if you were married, feeling the shake of his head as his chin dipped slightly against your hair. Are you in a relationship? Another shake, Horacio’s arms sliding down to help prop you up on your feet. You didn’t really expect him to answer differently. It still stung a little bit, though.

An hour later and you’d walked out with a mild concussion diagnosis and a prescription for some painkillers, pressing the heel of your hand to your temple as Horacio led you back to the Jeep. You tried not to think about the bullet holes in the passenger side door and how tightly his hands gripped the steering wheel.

He probably doesn’t have great memories of hospitals, you’d mused with your head lolling against the window, gaze bleary and unfocused as it swept over dusty backroads. With his wife and all. You hummed as the thoughts churned through your head, making your expression in the glass frown a little deeper. Maybe that’s why he always came back to his apartment so roughed up. Probably doesn’t like going if he can help it. I wouldn’t either, if I had to watch my wife die. I’d hate it.

⫸ -------- ⫷

Horacio sank deeper into the couch cushions, a hand cradling Isabella’s head as she lay across his chest. She was sleeping soundly for the first time in days and he let out a sigh, careful not to jostle her as he reached over to the phone on the table. He’d forgotten how difficult it could be, without you there.

He wanted to call. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to do something. The plastic cord of the telephone tangled slightly when he held the receiver, thumbnail dragging over the buttons and catching on the shallow grooves of waxy plastic. It warmed under his hand, grown restless and waiting. He set it down again.

Your voicemail left two days prior still fogged his head like the static message of a radio, the signal too soft and too out of reach but still carrying over enough to whisper and root itself in every waking moment. It’s just- it’s just too much right now, Horacio. Maybe we can work it out. Maybe not. I- I don’t know. Take care, alright? I lo-

You’d ended the message then, the dial tone ringing mocking and sour in his ears.

⫸ -------- ⫷

It was Friday night. You were due back on Monday, but it was far enough away that you could pretend not to care. Things were a bit better now. You were eating and showering and doing laundry. Responsible-type things. You could finally sleep through the night, even if you were plagued by nightmares. Sleep was sleep, right?

He wasn’t sleeping much, though. Not tonight, at least. Undercut by the sound of Isabella’s fussy cries, you could hear him pacing. You laughed a bit, not because it was funny but because it was familiar.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you slowly padded over to the door, not caring that you hadn’t brushed your hair or were wearing old pajamas. He’d seen worse, anyways. You wordlessly took the baby from his arms. His eyes seemed sunken in, a bit darker and a bit more hollow. You didn’t say anything, though. Neither of you did. You just stood in the hallway, a quiet agreement to not look each other in the face blanketing the air in a way that made your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth.

She settled quickly against you, hiccuping breaths slowing underneath your touch. The air was hot, humid and sticky with the Colombian summer in a way that made your head soupy. You could hear cars in the distance, sirens and horns and all the violent things that had led him to you and you to him. You pressed a kiss to the top of Isabella’s head, smiling at the way she smelled like the color pink - the innocent softness that you’d grown to love like it was your own. You missed it.

Horacio’s eyes were downcast, broad shoulders taking up most of your field of vision in a way that had your throat closing up. You reached out to place her back in his arms, clearly your throat awkwardly when your hands brushed. He mumbled a thanks and you shook your head, stepping back towards your apartment. Your hand rested on the doorframe, tangible evidence of your hesitancy as you stood with your back still to him.

You turned, the ghost of your profile just catching the way he glanced up when you opened your mouth to speak. “I-” you began and then let the word drift off, hanging heavy and uncertain. A whispered goodbye finally escaped your lips as you turned the knob, the metal searing cold against your skin.

⫸ -------- ⫷

Still Friday night. Or Saturday morning. Hard to tell, in the witching hours when everything was dampened and tilted sideways. You felt tilted sideways. Off-balance. You didn’t even remember leaving your apartment.

Your steps faltered, the few yards from your door to his stretched out until it lay miles away, a distant exit on a road you’d been down before but couldn’t for the life of you remember when or why or how to get back on. Wrenching your eyes shut, you let your forehead fall against the plaster of the wall beside you, the stucco cool and pebbling hard beneath your skin. The air was tight in your chest, shallow breaths doing nothing to ease the choking feeling in your throat. It was like hands were wrapped around you, pushing down on everything until you felt ready to burst.

Legs moving of their own accord, you found yourself standing outside his apartment entrance, the painted wood staring back at you, impersonal. What were you even doing?

The door opened just as you were about to turn away, hinges creaking slightly and making you wince. He called your name, voice soft and slightly confused. It was late. Were you okay? Was everything alright? He didn’t get to finish the last question before you fell into him, arms thrown around his neck and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight your knuckles paled. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

You buried your face in his neck and his breath fanned out over your hairline, tickling your cheek when he looked down. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry but I- I just-” He quieted you, whispering comfort into the shell of your ear until your hiccups slowed and the tears dried sticky on your cheeks. You could feel his hand on your back, the other braced against the doorway. Sniffling, you pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Horacio shifted to thread a hand through your hair, his touch gentle - almost hesitant. The front of his shirt was damp with your crying and you frowned at it slightly, moving your hands to his chest. He shook his head with a small smile, his own hands moving to rest atop yours and you were suddenly reminded of how big he was. It should’ve terrified you, standing there and being comforted by a man like that, a man capable of things you didn’t want to speak aloud, but it didn’t. It never had.

“Don’t worry about it,” Horacio said. Oh. Right. The shirt. Hands reached up to cradle your face, rough fingertips smoothing over the curve of your jaw. You let your eyes fall closed, stepping closer until his feet widened. His thumb caught the downward drag of a tear, wiping it away across your cheekbones. “I’m sorry, too.”

⫸ -------- ⫷

He’d led you back into his apartment, your steps quiet and your voices hushed as you sat down by his kitchen table. Your eyes were still puffy and everything was fogged up, burning a little and blurry the way fighting sleep made you feel. It was dark outside. Your only witness was the moon.

You traced the rim of your glass of water as you spoke, a single finger circling until your nail caught its edge.

“We should talk,” he said as he drew up a chair. His voice was quiet, rounded out on the edges and tired. You laughed a bit as you took a sip.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Yeah we should.”

So you talked.

“Are you alright?” Horacio asked after a few minutes where you both sort of said things but didn’t really say much at all. You nodded, resting your cheek on a propped hand, the grainy wood digging into your elbow.

“Yeah,” you looked back at him, smiling. You were trying to be, at least. “I think- I think I was just scared, y’know?”

He frowned slightly. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

You shook your head. You already knew that. “No, no, it’s not that.” you began, your eyes downcast and swimming murky in the water glass. “I was scared of myself. Of things all going to shit again. I didn’t want you to-” you blinked back tears, reaching to wipe them away with the heel of your palm. “I didn’t want what happened to him to happen to you. I don’t think I could, I- fuck,” you whispered, cradling your head in your hands. You closed your eyes. “Sometimes I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault. And I know it’s not, I know that it’s just- ”

“It’s easier to blame yourself,” Horacio whispered, his hands coming to your wrists. “Believe me, I know.”

Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he?

He brushed the hair back from your face and you remembered when he kissed you, thinking of spun sugar and amber and other sweet things that could still burn your tongue.

You entertained the idea of facades for a moment, the notion that you could somehow still manage to build something out of brick and mortar and silence and keep him out. He’d already seen you with all your walls crumbling down, though, so that wouldn’t accomplish much. A self-deluded exercise in futility, pretending like you didn’t need him and he didn’t need you. You were fighting a losing battle with yourself, a civil war of body and mind and heart that left you sick and dog-tired, just searching for someone to heal with.

It seems you’d found what you were looking for.

You moved your hands, threading your fingers into his. Ghosting your lips against the inside of his wrist, your words were hoarse and came out before you could stop to think. “Can I kiss you?”

A large palm came to your cheek, coaxing your face closer. Horacio’s chair scraped the tile as he moved but you barely noticed the sound, your eyes closing as his forehead fell against yours. You felt his smile instead of seeing it. His voice wrapped around you, all-encompassing and rushing in your ears like the roar of a heavy ocean wave. “If you want to.”

The first kiss had been nice. Hell, it’d been a lot more than nice but this… this was different. Somehow better. Slower. Quiet and soft but still kindling a smoke in your belly, gentle blue gas flames licking at every inch of your skin until you felt dizzy with heat and with touch. His hands had fallen to your waist, shifting your weight with no argument until you sat draped on his lap. He was strong underneath you, solid and warm and safe.

You recalled the feeling of stubble beneath your hands that first time in the hallway, so you moved to press a kiss to his jaw, over all the contours and shadows you never had the time nor the courage to map out before. You wanted to memorize him, everything from the way his fingers felt on your hip to the feeling of his mouth against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t want to run anymore.

“Stay here,” Horacio breathed as you shifted in his arms, reaching to card your hands through cropped hair at the nape of his neck. You nodded, still hiccuping leftover tears into his mouth as they bled into moans.

“Okay,” you whispered.

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch

ain’t it a gentle sound: @paniclana @huliabitch @jayoknrjk28 @raabiac @sparrows-books @popculturepriestess @pascalplease @ididntmeantobutiaccidentally @lockedoutofmyotherblog @multifandom-fiasco @wherethefuckiskathmandu

my tags have been all weird lately so if it doesn’t work/notify you im so sorry 😭😭

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo/reader #horacio carrillo fanfiction #maurice compte fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #also the sand line at the beginning reminded me of anakin lol #it'S COaRsE aNd RouGH anD GetS eVeryWheRe

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avian-writes · 3 years

Text

The day we decided to live

The Days: Part 1

Content Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide

words: 3039

In hindsight, when we had to park the car on a dirt road with only a government power strip on it and cross the barren back road to reach the GPS location, we should’ve known it was a bad idea. But it wasn’t like we were worried for our lives. We never have been.

It had been a long day: my car broke down after a 10 hour shift and my best friend, Darian, had to come pick me up. Neither of us could figure out what was wrong with it so I called a roadside mechanic who said he could come out and check it out the following day. Tired, we got food and went to my apartment to hang out. We hadn’t done that in weeks, we didn’t have the time or energy. What time we didn’t spend working was spent in bed, not wanting to get up to see the other.

It was during this that Darian asked, “Hey Jake, attractor, void, or anomaly?”

“...What?”

He turned his phone towards me and showed me a screen asking the same thing. “It’s Randonautica.”

“It’s what now?”

“You haven’t heard of it? It’s been all over the internet, mostly Tik Tok.”

I shook my head. I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything lately. “What is it?”

He explained it was an app that gave you a random location and you just...went there. He almost mentioned something about manifestation but I had already agreed and was taking his phone out of his hand. I needed something to do and distract myself that wasn’t my own anxiety biting at me.

Most of the screen was taken up by a GPS map with a radius of 2km. At the bottom were the choices of Attractor, Power, and Void. I hit Void then ‘generate’.

The screen turned black and white text appeared. ‘What would you like to find?’

“Something interesting.” Something that made moving worth it. Something that made life worth living.

‘Imagine it. Manifest it.’

Because we were good young adults, we did as we were told and closed our eyes, trying to manifest a reason to live. Not like we didn’t spend every day doing that already. When we opened them, an owl took up the screen telling us to prepare and I didn’t even get the chance to move when the map came back up.

‘Generated point; Void Anomaly’

Under it was an address I didn’t recognize. Zooming in on the map I could see the point was in the middle of woods. “Is that private property?” Darian asked, squinting.

“Sure is! You ready?”

I grabbed my Emergency Drive bag, a bag containing my portable charger, an extra cord, granola bars, chapstick, a notebook and pen, and a water bottle. It was solely for the purpose of when things got bad in my head and I just needed to get in my car and drive. I used it more often these days.

Less than twenty minutes later, we’re both standing on the side of the road across from the point. Darian had to park on a dirt road a ways off, parking on the side in our city would’ve been a horrible idea, and we walked over. We waited for the road to be clear and darted across.

On the other side, there was a ditch directly off the pavement filled with lumps of dirt similar to snake pouches all along it. It was the only way to the woods with a treeless stretch of tall grass. We both stood at the top of the drop off, staring down into the thorns and possible snake pits.

“Maybe we’ll find a dead body,” I said, referencing one of the stories I had read on the way there. With my phone plugged into Darian’s car charger of course. No way was I going into this with it even on 99%.

“Hopefully it’ll be one of our own.”

I didn’t comment. Especially when I agreed with him.

A sewer pipe went right underneath the road, leading into the overgrown bank. The grass went up to our knees and it wasn’t until we were already in that we noticed the briars growing along ankle-height.

“Welp, here we go!” I said with only a slight tint of enthusiasm. I started through the briar patch and Darian reluctantly followed me. Since we had come right from my apartment and neither of us were known for thinking things through, we weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion.

I had on short shorts and Darian had short pants as well as sandals; at least I had on tennis shoes. As we walked, I could feel every little cut on my legs as the briars dug into my skin and scratched along until I was past. Long cuts of red were scattered on both of our legs.

Finally, we got through and we were on the edge of the woods. Darian pulled up the GPS and handed it to me since I could read a map better than him. I turned it so it matched where we were facing and held it parallel to the ground. “Look, see! It’s the middle of this pathway where there aren’t trees.”

“Unless we want to deal with more briars, we’re not going straight there.” Darian pointed ahead of us and sure enough, grass taller than even him along with even more briars grew everywhere in the stretch. The woods it was.

I took the lead and we headed into the woods. It was only short in width as it bordered a farm; it was the woods on the other side of the stretch that was formidable. It went on for miles according to the GPS map and neither of us were good with directions when everything looked the same and we couldn’t see the sun.

All throughout the small journey to our destination, I laughed as Darian stumbled his way over fallen logs and small creeks of water going criss cross all along the dirt floor. He nearly tripped right into a tree and I caught his arm.

“Didn’t you say you grew up on a farm in a rural area? Did you never go exploring in the woods?” The thought baffled me, someone who had spent 85% of his childhood and high school years in the woods, playing pretend and just going on forever until the darkness pushed me back home.

Darian shook his head. “Our woods weren’t really woods like this. I never went in them much anyway.”

“What did you spend your time doing?”

He smiled at me, a real genuine smile I hadn’t seen in months. “Playing video games.”

It was a sweet bonding moment that got ruined real soon. I spotted something dark through the soft, brightly lit grass and leaped out into the strip. I darted over and stumbled back just as fast.

Darian followed me and lurched back. An animal carcass was strewn across the only patch of short grass, torn apart and unrecognizable. Hundreds, maybe thousands of flies swarmed the area and we both took heavy steps away.

Flies. Hundreds of little flies. I batted at them, but I could feel little flicks all over me as they flocked to me and Darian. I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep them from getting in my mouth. Waving my hands around in a feeble attempt to get them away from me, I accidentally smacked Darian right in the shoulder.

“Feck, sorry dude.”

He didn’t answer me. I blinked through the swarm and if I had eaten that day, it would’ve come right back up. The dead deer was laying in the small patch of short grass, right in between us and the rest of the easy way through the stretch.

I’m from the mountains, my family is a combination of hillbillies and rednecks, and I had a vulture as a best friend back home. Dead animals were a common occurrence as well as roadkill being the main feature of dinners at family reunions.

But this was much worse than simple roadkill. This was a mutilation. An attack on the poor thing. It’s entire body was torn open, entrails and organs spilling out into the blood-caked grass. Bones were almost licked clean and we could see the skull through a hole in the neck.

I felt Sick. I backed away and ran back to the woods, Darian right on my heels. As soon as we entered the dark, shady, and death-free safety of the trees, I keeled over and crouched in the dirt. Burying my head into my arms and trying to take deep breaths. Beside me, I could feel Darian doing the same.

A pricking at the back of my head nudged at me and I violently shook it away. A pleasant but jealous feeling that I didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Want to go to another location?”

Darian shook his head and pointed at his phone screen. “We’re not too far from the coords. Might as well go all the way and make this worth it.” He pointedly didn’t look at the corpse when speaking.

I thought about it for only a moment before shrugging and nodding my head. We continued on through the woods and kept going around the strip. In complete silence, we followed his offline GPS until we were directly across from the bright red point.

We looked at each other then stepped out of the woods and crossed the barrier further into our nightmare. Not even 10 footsteps away was stomped grass that led back into the woods. This was where the point was supposed to be. Broken glass littered the ground, quite literally; it looked like someone had littered.

“It’s probably nothing, Jake. Someone else must have gotten these coordinates too.”

“Aren’t they randomly generated?”

“We’re not that far from the farm. Probably one of their kids hiding their drinking from overbearing parents.” But even he didn’t sound convinced. I didn’t know why, but something about the area didn’t seem right. Maybe I just wanted to believe that since it was a new place and something was odd about it. I bet if someone came into my backyard, they’d feel something was off too, but it would just be the overturned lawn chairs we hadn’t bothered to pick up after the last storm.

I bent down and carefully picked up a piece of glass, holding it up to eyelevel to inspect it. It was thin and after looking closely, was curved just a bit. My stomach dropped and I looked around, spotting a broken piece of long, slender plastic.

“This wasn’t a beer bottle. It was glasses. Like, eyeglasses.” I looked up at Darian through my own glasses and he blinked at me through his. This had gotten too creepy and it seemed he agreed with me as we both started lightly sprinting for the woods.

As we ran, something hit me. Nothing physical, nothing stopped me from running. But something for sure hit my chest. I stopped of my own accord and turned back towards the strip and started walking. Why?

Good question. Wish I had an answer for you.

Behind me, I could vaguely hear Darian asking what the feck I was doing but I just kept walking. Just like when I drive down random roads at night with no real direction, when I go on walks through town and take random turns, it was like something was telling me to go that way. That I needed to see what was there.

As I broke through the clearing, I regretted it immediately. A circle of mowed grass amongst the overgrowing field of weeds wasn’t what we were expecting to find but alright. Just to add to the weirdness factor.

“What the fuck is going on, Jake?” Darian’s voice sounded ten miles away and right at my ear, still incredibly tired.

All I could do was shake my head, an overcoming sense of dread took me over and I turned and booked it. Praying Darian was behind me, I skipped along back into the woods and looked all around me. There was still plenty of daylight, I knew this. My phone said 3:46 pm with no reception. But the sky was growing darker already. Not even in the Winter did it get night this quickly.

I started running and dodging trees, reaching out my hands to feel for bark and shoving myself out of their way. My foot caught on a log and I went face first onto the ground. The warm, soft ground.

All at once, my body relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. I rolled onto my back and took in a deep, deep breath. I almost didn’t need it; I couldn’t breathe but also could breathe finally. Nothing held it back, nothing weighing on my heart to keep it from beating at a steady, normal pace.

The overbearing, sinking feeling over took my chest; begging to drag me down into the depths of the woods. The trees closed in over head and the sun was successfully blocked out. No light streamed in, the only source being from the far off tower strip.

I tried to move but couldn’t. I raised my arm and it just dropped back to my side, it was af it was light as a feather, with hollow bones, and filled with lead at the same time. I let my head hit the dirt as I leaned back as all my motivation to stay up left me.

But it wasn’t scary. Only…strangely comforting. It didn’t feel like it wanted to harm me, simply take away any preexisting pain. Take away everything until nothing was left, including the sadness. Dull all my senses. Block out the noises. Silence the humming noise and voices.

I could just not move. Let it consume me, take my spirit and mind away. It would be so easy…

“JAKE!”

Darian’s voice cut through every thought I had. Any resolve I had to let whatever it was take me broke away. My best friend needed me, and as much as I wanted to die, he needed me to live even more.

I scrambled to my heavy feet and took off into the strip. I dashed through the grass, ignoring the broken glass, leapt over the decaying deer, waved off the flies, and ran until my legs ached and my chest was burning.

“JAKE!”

The grass cut at my legs and arms, sharp searing pain akin to getting sliced with a knife covered me from head to toe but it was miniscule compared to the building anxiety rising in my tightened chest.

I broke into the circle and there Darian was. Just laying there, staring up at the open blue sky. His arms and legs outstretched as if he was just sunbathing on a lovely day. But the fear striking his face and pulsing veins streaming from his clenched fists and neck told me otherwise.

I fell to my knees next to him and yanked an arm around my shoulders. Darian had a good five inches and 70 pounds on me, but the shallow breathing and returning clawing feeling in my brain gave me just enough strength to lift my best friend up to get the feck out of there.

We finally made it past the deer and Darian suddenly slipped away from me. I started to panic until he grabbed my hand and we both took off. We ran in the slim space between the woods and strip, leaping over logs and doing our best to avoid briars.

It was the most terrifying time of both of our lives. Especially with the feeling now rising out of the ground to pull at my ankles, trying desperately to drag me back down. I ignored it the best I could until I couldn’t.

I briefly stopped, yanking Darian to a stop, and stomped on the nearest stick. It broke right in half and the feeling vanished with a cold, fleeting pass. I slipped my hand around Darian’s wrist and dragged him through the strip.

Then we heard the sweetest sound, calming music to our ears: cars. Driving past at fast, back road “no cops around, speeds. We ran faster and the road finally came into view. We only slowed down enough to step on the rocks and climb up and over the sewer pipe. Darian pulled me up and we took one step onto the road.

“Well, we did find a dead body.”

“Shut up.”

Probably dangerous to stand on a road at night, but nothing could’ve felt more dangerous to us than those woods. The pavement felt like heaven to us at that moment. We caught our breath and walked across the road in silence. Back to the car, got in, and just sat there.

Darian started the car and switched on the headlights. The two of us stared into the dimly lit dirt road ahead of us, neither of us wanting to speak. If we did, then that made it real. What we experienced had been real and we had really almost let ourselves be left behind.

We had almost died. We didn’t know what about what we felt led us to believe death was the end goal, but neither of us doubt we would’ve died if we hadn’t just gotten up and left. No matter how hard it was to do so.

Something we had both wanted for so long. But given the chance, we didn’t let go. It didn’t feel like the other attempts, to me anyway. I had been in control then.

“You good?” I managed to croak out.

Darian huffed out a weak laugh. “Not in the least bit. You?”

“I’m never going into the woods again.”

Eventually, he put the car into drive and we left. Back to my apartment. I had work early in the morning, but we didn’t want to be alone that night. So we slept on my floor where I held tight onto his jacket sleeve until the sun rose. Neither of us brought up him choosing to call for help nor me answering that call.

#wip #writeblr #depression #the days #mentions of suicide #the day we decided to live #part one #wtwcommunity

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gigilberry-wips · 3 years

Text

if wishes were stars

This is my secret santa gift for @kirkwords!

It’s a bit late, but technically I got it done on time sooooo here you go! I hope you enjoy this and I wish you and everyone here a very, very Happy Holiday!!

Word Count: 3,071

AO3 link

･ﾟ✧*: ♡ ･ﾟ✧ *:

In a secluded street of a nondescript town, there lived a run-down little toy store. What was special about this store was that it was owned by a man named Nicholas St. North, otherwise known as Santa Claus.

Not that he admitted to such a thing. On first glance, he didn’t much look the part either – instead of a fat and jolly little grandpapa, what you were met with was a tall, imposing wall of a man, with a rumbling, earth deep voice and tattooed arms that had likely lifted a reindeer or two in their time.

But the jolly part was still there, twinkling in his eyes. And every toy he made seemed to hold a touch of that fairytale magic.

A whispering, fluttering little thing, beating deep inside.

Thump … thump … thump …

Thump

A pair of cloth eyes blinked. They blinked again.

Looking down, they found two pudgy, cotton-stuffed arms. Those arms led into the puffed sleeves of a faded dress that might have once been pink but through age and time and the general negligence of items left behind and forgotten about had eventually faded to a dull, stained beige.

On one corner of the dress was a curling, embroidered word. Rapunzel. That was her name.

Rapunzel sat up. From where she was on the floor, there was not much to see beyond the wall of cardboard boxes. The dust motes hardly stirred in the dim lighting, and the few spiders spinning their webs ignored her presence entirely.

But in the distance was noise. Things moving around, talking, what might have been a few strains of music. Was it a party? Rapunzel liked parties.

She toddled up onto her stout little feet and followed the sounds. The boxes were not all uniform; every now and then they let through shards of light. Rapunzel made sure to pass through each of them – or at least she tried; some were too high up for her to reach. Occasionally she would stop and stare at how they lit up her dusty skin, or made the occasional stray glitter sparkle on the ground.

When the wall of boxes ended, Rapunzel did not find a party. But far above her head were strings of sparkling lights, enclosed in clear glass spheres. They looped in and out of the shelves that lined the isle, creating a woven canopy of brilliant yellow light. Large work tables occupied the space within the isle, pushed against the shelves and stretching up so tall that Rapunzel couldn’t see where they ended or what they held.

Rapunzel wandered amongst them. Her feet made prints in the dust that covered the floor, but she didn’t know that, not when her head was craned up and her sight was filled with floating lights.

She was so caught up in them that she didn’t notice when someone noticed her. She didn’t see it when that someone climbed down to reach her. And she definitely didn’t hear them until they stuck out their hand and said: “Hello!”

Rapunzel yelped. To her right was a towering pile of junk heaped under a table. And crouched on an outcropping was a colourless boy.

That is, everything from his clothes to his skin was coloured stark, pasty white, even his hair and cheeks and mouth. The only thing time and wear had done was fade his once fancy looking clothes to old cream and add several moth holes and tattered strands to it. The hand he held out was made of segments, smooth and hard as marble.

"Why are you shiny?"

The boy blinked two black pinpricks he had for eyes at her. He tilted his head. "... Pardon?"

"Your face, I mean. It looks a bit shiny where the light hits it." Rapunzel gently touched his hand with her soft mitt. "And your hand, why is it hard? And why is it shaped like this?"

"Oh ... I guess that's because I'm made of clay." The boy touched his face. His fingers made a light tap-tap sound. "My hand is like this because I'm a puppet ... I was a puppet. I'm not anymore. I'm free. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I gave myself a name." He pointed to himself. "I’m Jack. I like the name so it’s mine now. What's yours?"

"My name is Rapunzel."

"Is it really? How do you know?"

"My dress has my name on it." Rapunzel held out her dress and showed off the embroidery. Surely he'd never seen stitching this pretty before, and it spelled her name so that meant her name was pretty and good, too.

"Do you always listen to what your dresses tell you? You're funny." He went to poke it but Rapunzel batted his hand away.

"Well, if you don't like it-"

"I didn't say that. It's nice - really, it is!" Jack laughed, even as Rapunzel sulked. "In fact, I've got a friend who's playing dress-up right now. She'll tell you it's pretty, too. Do you want to meet her?"

"You have friends?" So there were other dolls there. Then another thought hit her. "Can I be your friend?"

"Sure you can!" Jack shook her hands. "There! Now we're friends. Come on, let's go meet the others!"

At first Rapunzel thought that Jack was going to make them climb up the junk to get to the table's surface. But instead, Jack led her down a winding path through the debris, until they heard a raised voice and the sound of laughter.

The heart of the junk pile opened up to a cleared space. A desk lamp off to the side illuminated two figures.

The laughter was from a wooden soldier. His paint was chipped and peeling, and where he should’ve had a black boot to match the one on his right leg, there was instead a rusted nail jammed crookedly into the wood.

While he sat on a pencil box and held his sides, a girl doll twirled in the middle of the space. Her long, puffy hair was a shiny red and she wore the most outrageous outfit Rapunzel’s button eyes had ever seen. The bedazzled purple headpiece didn’t even match the rest of it. The moment she caught sight of Jack and Rapunzel she brandished a sword bigger and wider than the spindly arms that wielded it.

“But hark! What is that I spy?” She declared. “A rascal! How dare the miscreant show his face?! Doest thou wish for a flogging, foul knave? For I shall bestow it myself!”

Jack ran up to her and dropped to one knee, flinging his arms out. “Why would I fight such a fair princess when we could dance the night away?”

She waved her sword at him and threatened to chop his head off. Meanwhile, the soldier sitting off to the side laughed even harder.

“… That’s not … how … it goes … at all …” He wheezed helplessly.

The girl tossed a grin at him. “Close enough, right?” She hung the sword in a makeshift shawl-turned-belt and raised a smug eyebrow at Jack. “You hear that? That’s the sound of success. You’re not the only one who gets to be funny around here, Jackie boy. Eat it and weep.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that goes either.” Jack stumbled up, his joints knocking together.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Now tell us who your new friend is.”

Rapunzel wandered up to the group. She did a shallow curtsy. “Greetings, all. My name is Rapunzel. I’m happy to meet you.”

“And we’re happy to meet you, too.” Jack pointed to the toy soldier. “That is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. There’s a really long and windy story about how he chose his name.”

Hiccup shrugged. “I’ll tell it to you if you want to hear it.”

Rapunzel skipped over to him and shook his hands. “I’d love to! I love stories! Please tell me whenever you like.”

“Uh, wow. Thanks?” Hiccup chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you too?”

“Okay, okay, okay. That’s enough of that.” They both looked over at Jack. Jack grinned. He swept his arms up and showcased the shiny girl in the shiny dress. “This is Princess Merida of Clan DunBroch.”

“Not anymore I’m not!” Merida swatted at him, and he spun out of the way cackling.

Pulling her sword out again, she swung it up. “No longer am I Princess Merida. From now on, I wish to be the warrior queen Boudica! Hyah!”

She did a spin and a leap, making the layered skirt swirl in her wake and the headdress fly off. She landed in front of Rapunzel, knelt on the ground and sword pointed at Rapunzel’s chin.

Rapunzel obligingly clapped. “Very good!”

“Thank you, thank you. All in a day’s work.” Merida brushed herself off and stood.

“Why don’t you want to be Merida anymore?”

“Because I’m one of several dozen Merida princess dolls.” Merida rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be the same as them. I don’t even know who this ‘Princess Merida’ is. I mean, sure, the name is fine, but does it really need a Princess in front of it? I’d rather just be Merida, and not-” Merida shook her outfit out. Rapunzel giggled. “-this, you know? That’s why I’m changing my wardrobe.”

On the other side of the clearing were racks of doll clothes and a large changing station. Many of the clothes were strewn about on the ground. Half of them were almost as outrageous as whatever Merida wore, the rest not looking like they’d even fit on her. These friends must have been here for a while.

A warrior queen, was it? Rapunzel had never heard of that, or much of anything really, but that didn’t mean she wanted to miss out on the fun. “Can I help, too?”

“Would you? Fantastic!” Merida looped her plastic arm through Rapunzel’s. “Let’s get to it. To start, I was thinking we’d look into something green …”

They did eventually find a dress that Merida liked, after many more dramatic outfit changes and general silliness. Granted, it drooped around the shoulders and she had to kick out the skirt to walk in it, but she said it was ‘comfortable for movement’ and ‘blending into the surroundings’. Rapunzel and Jack also dug up a proper belt for Merida to store her sword on.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” Rapunzel tugged the belt more securely and straightened up.

“What’s the occasion?” Jack asked.

“Because why not? Because we found a new dress for Merida. Because I met all of you and because we’re here together. Let’s do something nice.”

From where she admired herself on a plate, Merida smiled at Rapunzel through her reflection. “I think that’s brilliant.” Giving her hair one last flounce, she spun around. “What do you suggest we do? Shall we do a dance? A play? Want to go exploring?”

“I have an idea.”

They all looked towards Hiccup. Laid at his side was a trumpet about as long as he was tall that Rapunzel hadn’t noticed before. He used that to slowly pull himself upright and started walking into the junk pile, using the trumpet like a cane. “Follow me.”

They wound their way down one of the twisting paths until they came out to find a giant table leg. Unlike the others, this table leg had a strange device attached to it. There was a large box – what it was for, Rapunzel didn’t know – with long strands of belts tied to it. Those belts went up, up, up so high it passed above the table and out of sight.

The box had a little door that Hiccup swung open. “Get in here.”

Jack and Merida easily walked in, while Rapunzel craned her head up at the structure.

“What’s this supposed to do?” She asked. She almost missed the door and walked right into the side of the box when Hiccup caught her arm.

“It’ll take us up. Look.” Next to the box was a large red button, bolted onto the table leg. Hiccup pushed the button.

The button lit up bright red. Something hummed above their heads, and then the belts began to move. And they moved the box with it.

Up they went. Rapunzel gripped the rim of the box, which came up to her belly, happy as could be. The ground grew further and further the higher up they went, until they reached the table top and the ride met its end.

There were many things scattered on the table. But what caught Rapunzel’s eye was the structure right in the middle of it. It was a dollhouse. It was very large, at least three stories tall, and made of sturdy, unpainted wood. The best part was that it had a flat roof, with a few chimneys growing out of the corners.

Without a second thought, Rapunzel ran to it and started climbing it. The roof had a much better view of the lights, and she spun around and around and made them all blend together, bumping into Jack or Merida along the way and laughing with them.

The lights went dark.

They blinked at each other, button eyes and plastic and paint.

“… Where’s Hiccup?” asked Merida’s voice.

The door to the roof swung open. “Here.” There was Hiccup. “How do you like it?”

Rapunzel stumbled forward until she found his hand. “Why’d the lights go off?”

“The lights are connected to the outlet over there. I unplugged the wire.”

“Aww that’s not fair.” There was Jack, bumping into both of them. “We were having fun!”

“Look – no, no. Not at me. Look up.”

Rapunzel looked up. With the lights gone, it was easy to see that the ceiling above was made of glass. Through the glass was a blanket of starlight.

The dolls huddled together, hushed by the sight. Something about the light of the stars and the quiet of the room and the darkness that shrouded them made them keep close to one another.

On occasion, one would murmur a thought, or another hum a tune. Some thoughts led to others, which led to strands of conversation.

They passed those conversations between each other, lying on their backs and staring at the sky.

“Of course I remember how I came here.” Jack scoffed. “I escaped.”

“Exciting, I’m sure.” Even in the dark, Merida’s voice carried her eye roll.

“Shush, you. It was either that or they sent us to the scrap pile.” A sigh in the dark, followed by shuffling noises. “I remember hearing them talking, alright? I was supposed to be part of a set. But the other puppets, they said … that we came out wrong. Apparently, we were supposed to have bigger heads or something, be- what was it … exaggerated. We were supposed to have ‘exaggerated features’. But, well, here I am.” Jack waved his arms in the air, so that they showed up black against the sky. “I don’t know what happened to the other puppets from my batch, but I didn’t want to go so soon. So I escaped when no one was looking and ended up here.”

“… Okay, so that’s mildly interesting.”

“What about you, princess? What got you to come here?” Merida gave him a half-hearted shove. He went with it, and then rolled back to flop an arm on her.

“… Just me being myself, I guess.” Merida hummed. “I was up one night with the other dolls. The other Merida ones were alright, and I think … some of the other princesses, too, maybe, and a few more. But the rest of the dress up dolls were so annoying! All they wanted to do was comb each other’s hair or have tea parties or sing songs and that’s it. And like, those things are fine. I don’t mind them. But there should be more to life, shouldn’t there? Like going on adventures and fighting monsters and saving the world.”

“… Like in a story.” Rapunzel said.

“… yeah. Like in a story. Just like that.” Merida reached over Jack and squeezed her hand. Jack made a protest of being smushed, but Merida blew a raspberry at him and Rapunzel patted his head.

It was nice, being like this. Friends were nice.

“Do you remember how you came here?” Rapunzel turned her head to the right, where Hiccup was.

A pause, interrupted by a distant bell chime. “I remember … I remember waking up around books.”

“That’s how he knows so many stories.” Merida said.

“You’re the one who’s been here the longest, I think. Longer than me.” Jack’s voice went softer. “… that’s a long time, isn’t it?”

None of them answered. It wasn’t easy to tell what time was or wasn’t, when one was a doll.

“… Can you think of any story right now?” Rapunzel asked, to fill the silence.

“I think there’s one about the stars? You’re supposed to make a wish on one and it’ll come true.”

“Well, there are plenty of them here so that means plenty of wishes, right?”

“No, um … I’m not sure that’s how it works, Jack.” Hiccup shook his head. “It has to be … there’s supposed to be some other condition to it. Something special about it. Or about the wishing.”

“I know what I’m wishing for.” Rapunzel said. With one hand in Hiccup’s and another in Jack’s, Rapunzel spoke to the stars. “I wish that we can all stay together.”

A moment of quiet, with only their thoughts and the strange fluttering in their chests.

“… For how long?” Merida whispered.

“For as long as we’re friends. We’re friends now, right?”

“… we are.”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends for good.”

Friends to keep. Friends to stay.

In the dark where no one could see it, Rapunzel smiled.

She smiled for the moment and the company she had. She smiled for the lights she’d seen before and the stars she saw now. She smiled for the promise she’d made on the stars.

The stars. What beautiful things. To every corner of the room, to every corner of the sky, they breathed their glittering, infinite light. Like a promise of forever in an ever changing world. That was such a strange concept for lost, little souls, who had no place of their own but where they were, with no perception of yesterday or tomorrow, only the present. Only now.

In the sky, the stars carried wishes. Of things lost and things found.

In the dark, the night carried dreams.

#rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tbf #jack frost #hiccup #rapunzel #merida #rise of the guardians #how to train your dragon #tangled #my writing #secret santa

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone

A Tyler Rake/Established Female OC fic

Summary: A lot changes in five years. Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City. With Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving. Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore. But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.

Huge thanks and tons of love to @tragiclyhip for never letting me give up! It’s thanks to her I ever actually finished off the last fic, or started this one. And she also made my incredible banner! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip

Prologue

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else.

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone.

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong.

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill.

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths.

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen.

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device.

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.”

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind.

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace.

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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