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poptod · 3 years

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hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

#ahkmenrah x reader #rami malek

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Title: Witness

Summary: Scrooge is on trial and he needs a character witness, but he's not sure how helpful she'll be. Ship: Scrooge/Goldie Word count: ~3080 Notes: I needed to write something after seeing the summary for the upcoming episode, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510085

“This trial is a sham!” Scrooge shouted, slamming his shackled fists onto the desk in front of him. “You havenae allowed me a proper lawyer or allowed anyone to testify on my behalf!”

The giant mystical judge scoffed and held the gavel in his hand, ready to use it if the duck continued yelling. Holding him in contempt of court would be an easy way to end this trial early, but he wanted to make sure Mr. McDuck paid properly for his crimes.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes and walked in front of the desk. “And whom would you have testify for you? In the High Mystical Court of Good Versus Evil, family members aren’t allowed.”

Scrooge gaped. “Not even as a character witness? I spend all my time with my family!”

The smug, suited creature shrugged at him with a smile. “Too bad, then. Looks like we’ll just have to continue listing how you’ve corrupted these fine men and women and forced them into lives of villainhood.”

The old duck seethed, grinding his teeth and considering his options. If he let the trial continue this way, his poor family up in the spectator’s seats was about to watch him get destroyed and they had yet to even discuss punishment, but Scrooge was sure it would be worse than anything he could get on Earth.

As he glanced up at his family - Donald, Della, and the boys in particular - he wondered if Webby or Twenty-Two would’ve been allowed to defend him had they been zapped here along with the rest of them. They just happened to be in the kitchen at the time of abduction and were probably losing their minds with worry. Hopefully one of the boys was able to send some sort of textual message to let them know what was going on.

At that thought, Scrooge’s eyes lingered on Louie and his phone, and a thought suddenly came to mind. It was something he wasn’t sure about...perhaps it’d be a bad idea...but he had no other options.

“I know someone!” he shouted. “I have a character witness who’s not in my family!”

The judge and prosecutor stared down with their many, many eyes - giving Scrooge an expression he could only describe as terrifying and suspicious.

“You still want to try this?” the prosecutor asked. “Alright, fine. Who is it?”

“Goldie O’Gilt.” Scrooge ignored the reactions from his family - particularly Della and Donald’s resounding ‘oh, please no’ - and hoped this would be a good choice.

The prosecutor looked up at the judge, who nodded his head and slammed his gavel down three times before snapping his fingers. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed without anything happening or anyone saying a word. Scrooge glanced from side to side. “Should you...call a recess so I can contact her?”

“That would be a waste of time,” the prosecutor said as there was suddenly a poof of purple smoke at the witness stand.

Everyone stared as the smoke dissipated to reveal one Goldie O’Gilt - currently wearing a bathrobe and her hair was down and wet and as soon as she opened her eyes she was immediately very unhappy.

“Oh, what the hell is this?” Goldie shouted, choosing to stay seated but glaring around the room. “What am I on trial for this time?”

Scrooge felt himself getting sweaty. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Nothing, Miss O’Gilt,” the judge said as he leaned down to look at her. “Mr. Scrooge McDuck is on trial for crimes of harassment, manipulation, and corruption against multiple innocent victims.”

Goldie blinked up at him and then turned her head to look at Scrooge.

He gave her a toothy grin and a small, nervous wave.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Goldie asked as she grabbed her hair and wrung it out onto the floor.

The prosecutor stared at the puddle of water and then glared up at their new witness. “You’ve been called as a character witness for Mr. McDuck. Now do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Scrooge dropped his head to the desk while the prosecutor and judge glanced at one another.

The bailiff walked over with a large brown book that had a giant lock around the side and was shaking a bit and making snarling sounds. Goldie raised an eyebrow as he held it towards her.

“Put your hand on this.”

Goldie grimaced. “Must I?”

“If you don’t want to testify, we can’t force you,” the prosecutor said with a pretentious glance up and down her body. “Clearly you were in the middle of something, after all.”

Goldie glared at him and in that moment decided she hated him more than she enjoyed inconveniencing Scrooge. She slapped her hand down on top of the book. “I swear to tell the truth.”

The bailiff mumbled something under his breath and then the book lit up and shone a bright light onto Goldie for a few seconds before fading away. He walked away as Goldie rubbed at her eyes.

“What was that?”

“That was a Light of Honestly,” the prosecutor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Which means that so long as you’re at the witness stand, you’re physically incapable of lying or excluding relevant information from your statements.”

“What?!” both Goldie and Scrooge shouted at the same time. They immediately locked eyes with one another and could feel their shared nervousness almost psychically.

“Since when do you use something like that?”

“It was specifically requested and provided by one of the accusers in this case. Now, could you state your name and occupation to the court, please?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched as she squeezed the sleeves of her robes into her hands. “Goldie Kathleen O’Gilt. I…” She paused as if considering her words - or, Scrooge suspected, trying to find a way to word her lie so that it was still true. “...I own and operate a hotel.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. She did what? He attempted to make eye contact with her so he could let her know how confusing what she just said was to him, but she was purposefully avoiding his stare.

“And how do you know Scrooge McDuck, Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie frowned and glanced up at Scrooge before glaring at the lawyer. “He’s my…” She seemed to struggle with the words again. “...boy...friend?”

A collective groan could be heard from the duck boys in the peanut gallery while Scrooge couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“Are you asking?” the judge asked sternly, leaning towards her again.

She grunted and angrily waved her hands around. “We’ve never really talked about it, alright? He’s the love of my life and we’ve been seeing each other on and off since 1897. How’s that for you?”

Scrooge was surprised not to hear another groan, and looked back to see the boys and Della looking quite touched by Goldie’s confession. They weren’t the only ones - even after their little Florida adventure, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now he had ten times as much reason not to die right then and there.

“That’s descriptive enough, I suppose,” the prosecutor responded, clearly not recognizing or not caring about the emotional turmoil Goldie was going through after blurting that out so carelessly. “In the one hundred and twenty years you’ve known Scrooge McDuck, have you found him to be cruel?”

Scrooge stared at her pleadingly, despite knowing she physically couldn’t lie he still hoped she’d find a way to make him sound good.

Goldie brushed her fingers through her damp hair. “On occasion. But usually I was cruel to him first.”

“Usually, but not always?” the prosecutor asked, taking a look at the jury who were watching with gradually increasing interest. “So he has been cruel without provocation.”

“The first night we met involved me drugging his coffee and then him kidnapping me,” Goldie said nonchalantly, clearly starting to realize there was no fighting the Light of Honesty. “At the time I thought he was cruel, but looking back on it, I don’t mind that it happened.”

Scrooge closed his eyes and wondered what his family was thinking at that moment. He was thinking about all the different painful, mystical punishments he was going to face after Goldie destroyed his already limited chances of surviving this trial.

“Interesting. And over the years, have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck inflicting such cruelties on anyone else?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No. I like to think our relationship is special,” she added with a wink.

The prosecutor scoffed, annoyed by her response. “Can I assume this means your time spent with Scrooge McDuck is usually just the two of you, making you less than an expert on how he treats people he’s not having sex with?”

“Objection!” Scrooge yelled, standing up. “Curse me kilts, there are kids here!”

The judge shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

“Fine,” the prosecutor responded, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “But my question still stands.”

Goldie huffed. “Unfortunately for me, I have spent plenty of time with Scrooge’s other associates. I can’t confirm whether or not I’ve seen him around your particular accusers, but I’ve interacted with most of his enemies at one point or another.”

“...good to know,” the prosecutor said and brushed invisible dust off of his lapel. “Have you ever known Scrooge McDuck to harass others?”

“Only when they owe him money.”

“Oh? And does that happen often?”

Goldie let out a short laugh. “No one would be dumb enough to borrow from Scrooge! He adds interest even when you borrow five bucks for lunch.”

Scrooge pouted and ignored the temptation to argue that he had every right to do so.

“Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be manipulative?”

There was a pause at that question, one that filled the space between Scrooge and Goldie with a modicum of tension. “Yes.”

“...can you elaborate on that?”

Goldie sighed. “Well, he’s the richest duck in the world, a businessman, and an adventurer. You can’t be successful in any of those categories without being at least somewhat manipulative. Though he’s certainly not the most manipulative man I’ve dealt with, he’s not exactly a saint.”

Scrooge groaned and slammed his head against the desk multiple times in a row.

The blonde pouted angrily and tried to think of a way to save face. “That being said...if the accusers in question aren’t ex-business partners or fellow adventurers, I question the relevance of anything I’ve said.”

The jury seemed to find that statement interesting and the prosecutor glared angrily at Goldie for causing a stir. Scrooge lifted his head and smiled at her - now he was sure she was fighting to help him.

“I think we can allow the jury to decide the relevance of this information for themselves,” the prosecutor said with a snarl. “We don’t need any unfair extrapolation from our witnesses, Miss O’Gilt. Stick to the facts.”

Goldie let out a short, low hum and grabbed her hair to wring it out once again, getting water all over the attorney’s shoes. He gasped and stepped away from her.

“Oops!” Goldie put a hand to her beak, but offered no apology. No one needed to think twice to realize it was because she was incapable of doing so at that moment.

“Corruption is the biggest charge,” the prosecutor said matter-of-factly. “The accusers all claim that their villainy is a direct result of damages done to them, their property, or their livelihoods by Scrooge McDuck. Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be a corrupting person?”

Scrooge wondered about that charge against him in particular. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his enemies were a direct result of something he did - but it wasn’t purposeful nor was he the only person capable of causing these problems for them. If Scrooge hadn’t indirectly negatively impacted their lives, some other billionaire would’ve done it instead. It’s not like he was the only businessman-adventurer in the world.

“...yes.”

Scrooge sucked in a breath. He didn’t know what Goldie was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Not in any way that’s appropriate for the audience,” she answered with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the kids, too, after all.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and blushed. Alright.

The prosecutor slapped a hand against his forehead. “Not that kind of corruption!” he shouted, pointing a finger into her face and getting much too close for anyone’s comfort. “Have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck influence the life of an innocent person in a way that led to them falling down a path of villainy?”

The jury reacted more than expected to the prosecutor’s anger, whispering among themselves briefly. Scrooge and the prosecutor both looked over at the Jury Box, but Goldie kept her eyes forward.

“...not purposefully, but yes.”

The prosecutor smiled. “Ahh, well naturally, if it wasn’t on purpose, then it doesn’t matter! Is that what you’re saying?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched again. “You asked me to state facts. I stated a fact. Do you have any other dumb questions?”

He glared at her and glanced up at the judge, who was leaning on his hand and watching their discussion closely. “I want to summarize what you’ve told us so far, Miss O’Gilt.”

“According to you, Scrooge McDuck may not be prone to harassment, but he is often cruel, fairly manipulative, and has been known to corrupt innocent people to villainy. Is that all correct?”

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her leg. “That’s all accurate to what I’ve said here, yes.”

The prosecutor turned back to look at Scrooge, whose expression could only be described as defeated. “Some character witness you’ve found yourself, Mr. McDuck.”

“Stick to the witness, Prosecutor,” the judge said quickly, holding up his gavel.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor responded, moving back towards Goldie again. “Now, Miss O’Gilt, based on what you’ve told us here, Scrooge McDuck is not a nice man nor is he a noble man. Yet you referred to him as the, quote, love of your life, unquote. This leads me to believe that you, yourself, may not be a nice or noble person, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“If anyone has any doubts as to whether or not Scrooge McDuck is a cruel, manipulative person capable of horrible deeds, we need look no further than the fact that his girlfriend here is similarly cruel, manipulative, and as many of us here are already aware - a criminal.”

There were gasps among the crowd and the jury - the prosecutor turned his head towards them as he continued. “Yes, everyone, Miss O’Gilt here is actually quite familiar with the inside of this courtroom. She’s been on trial dozens of times over the past one hundred years for theft of mystical artifacts from every dimension and realm you can think of.”

Scrooge closed his eyes again and started counting. Perhaps if he did this long enough, he’d wake up from this nightmare he found himself trapped in.

Goldie, on the other hand, was unperturbed. “Been on trial, but never been convicted. Who’s the one bringing up irrelevant information now?”

“I simply thought it was important for our jury to be aware of the witness’ extracurricular activities.”

“The activities you have no evidence of,” Goldie said sternly. She glanced up at the judge. “I believe your prosecutor is harassing me when all I’ve done is comply with every question I’ve been asked both here and at previous trials.”

The judge considered this for a moment and looked down at the prosecutor. “She has a point. Was she convicted of any of the crimes you’re accusing her of?”

The prosecutor frowned. “No, but-”

“But nothing,” the judge said as he slammed down his gavel again. “You will move on from this statement of irrelevant accusations or I will have you replaced with another attorney.”

“...yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said with a bow, glaring at Goldie.

She smiled back at him, then glanced at Scrooge and blew him a kiss.

======

After court was adjourned and Scrooge’s handcuffs were finally removed after all those hours of magical metal chafing against his feathers, he spent an enjoyable few minutes being congratulated by his family before Goldie stepped out of the courtroom and stared at them.

“Um...Uncle Scrooge?” Louie said, tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think Aunt Goldie wants to talk to you.”

Scrooge considered taking a moment to discuss that nickname with his nephew, but Goldie’s presence distracted him enough that he simply turned around and walked towards her.

“You really saved me in there, O’Gilt,” Scrooge said softly as he reached down and grabbed one of her hands.

Goldie shrugged and squeezed his hand back. “Well it wasn’t like I could let them throw you in interdimensional prison. They don’t have conjugal visits, you know.”

He blushed and pulled his hand away. “Must you always be so inappropriate?!”

“Not always,” Goldie said as she took a step closer to him. “Just with you.”

Scrooge felt his heart racing and couldn’t help the nervous smile that came back to his face. “...I would’ve thought you’d run out of here as fast as possible after what you said.”

She played with her hair for a bit, roughly running her fingers through the knots that had formed since the judge had summoned her from her bathroom before she’d had a chance to brush. “It’s not like I said anything you didn’t already know.”

He smiled brighter and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her beak; a disgusted groan sounded from behind him that he was pretty sure was Louie’s. “Is the judge sendin’ you back home?”

“After I’m done with you, yes.”

Scrooge grabbed her hands again. “How about you come to the mansion instead, dear?”

Goldie breathed out a laugh. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m not wearing anything under this robe and I’d kind of like to do something with my hair before it knots into a nest.”

“I’ve got some of your clothes,” Scrooge said quickly. “And showers. Towels. Hair brushes. Anythin’ you need.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Scrooge’s family who were all pretending not to pay attention to them. “Well...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

#ducktales #scroldie #goldie o'gilt #scrooge mcduck #glittering goldie #fic #fics #im glad i chose to write a fic instead of drawing something cuz like...wtf would the judge and attorney look like? idk #im not creative like that #anyway my entire knowledge of court trials comes from the ace attorney game series which as we know is Extremely Accurate

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

Text

End of the Road - Chapter 2

I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 Prompt: Gift Pairing(s): Silver x Gildarts, Pre-Slash Makarov x Porlyusica

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Summary: During a celebration dinner at his mother's house, Gildarts discovers something about Silver that he hadn't realized. Although he can't fulfill Silver’s wish, it gives him an idea that symbolizes how he feels about their future.

Chapter 2

September 8, 1989

Silver and Gildarts wisely stayed out of Porlyusica’s way as she rushed through the remaining preparations for their dinner.

“Everything looks great, mom,” Gildarts assured her, “smells good too.”

She flashed him a rare smile, “I really am proud of you, Gilly.”

“Gilly?!” Silver burst into guffaws, earning him two nearly identical glares from his boyfriend and Porlyusica.

He shuddered at the combined weight of their displeasure.

“You are never calling me that,” Gildarts declared, and when Silver attempted to respond, he covered his mouth. “Never, do you understand?” He waited until Silver nodded to remove his hand.

Silver waggled his eyebrows, “Have I ever told you how sexy you look when you have that murderous aura?”

Gildarts rolled his eyes but pulled him into a kiss regardless. “Mhhm,” he hummed, licking his lips after they separated. “Maybe I should have you for dinner instead.”

“Oh, for the love of,” Porlyusica protested, “can’t you two keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”

The doorbell rang, and Porlyusica went off to answer it, muttering under her breath about how they were much too old to be acting like lovesick teenagers.

Silver and Gildarts snickered, following her to the door to greet their guest. They stood behind her as she opened the door, revealing a short man with blond hair that was slicked away from his face in gravity-defying spikes. He gave Porlyusica an appraising once over.

“Oh, it’s you,” Porlyusica greeted their guest with barely hidden contempt, moving away from the door to let him enter the house.

“Hey, Porly, long time no see!” Makarov Dreyar grinned, clearly amused by the irritated glare he received from his hostess.

Porly? Silver mouthed at Gildarts, who shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“I’ve told you to never call me that,” Porlyusica scowled, even as she accepted the bouquet of pink roses he had brought her.

“And this is for you,” Makarov ignored Porlyusica’s remark and handed Gildarts the bottle of wine, which looked to be kind of expensive. “I had a hell of a time finding a good vintage for 1965, but this should do,” he patted Gildarts on the back, too short to reach his shoulders.

“You two know each other?” Gildarts looked from one to the other in confusion.

“You could say that. We went to medical school together,” Porlyusica muttered grouchily, moving to the kitchen to put her flowers in a vase.

“We were a little more than that,” Makarov teased, chuckling when he saw her shoulders tense.

“Don’t go putting ideas into the boy’s head,” Porlyusica scolded, glancing over at Gildarts, “What he’s trying to say is that he was one of the few people at that school who was not a complete idiot. Although that seems to have changed.”

Makarov snorted at her comment, “It’s been too long,” he opened his arms and, in a move that surprised both Silver and Gildarts, Porlyusica allowed herself to be hugged.

“So you were Gildarts supervisor?”

“Yep, all of last year and he was good enough to help me out this summer as well,” Makarov remarked, “He grew up to be a wonderful boy, who would have thought?”

Noting Gildarts' confused expression, Makarov explained, “I watched you a few times when you were little, so your mother could study. You used to have this amazing ability to break things, glad to see you outgrew that.”

“He hasn’t,” Silver piped in, earning a dirty look from Gildarts.

“Ah, this must be the significant other you’ve mentioned,” Makarov extended his hand in greeting, “Makarov Dreyar, nice to meet you.”

“Silver Fullbuster,” Silver shook his hand, “Whatever he told you about me is probably not true.”

Makarov chuckled, “Well, you must certainly be something to keep his attention, I swear Gildarts had every single woman at that center pining over him.”

“I bet,” Silver rolled his eyes, “it’s the same at school.”

“I mean, can you blame them?” Gildarts joked, “Besides, you’re just as bad. It’s how we met, remember?”

“Are you done?” Porlyusica asked them drily, not looking particularly impressed with any of them.

“Sorry, mom,” Gildarts flashed her a grin and grabbed one of the serving plates, taking it to the dinner table while Silver hurried to do the same.

“This looks wonderful,” Makarov complimented after they had sat down, “when did you learn how to cook?”

“About the same time you stopped growing,” Porlyusica sniped in return, causing Silver to almost choke on his water.

Gildarts was doing his best to keep a straight face, but it had been a long time since he’d seen his mother so riled up, and for once, it wasn’t directed at him.

“So Gildarts mentioned that you ran your practice from home,” Makarov remarked, “That was smart, it must have been very helpful when he was young.”

“Yes, it allowed me to be here when he got home after school, although it also meant that people showed up at all hours.”

“And I bet you saw them all,” Makarov smiled, “You always were a softie.”

Porlyusica slid him a guarded look, “Why do I get the sudden feeling that you’re buttering me up for something.”

Makarov shrugged, flashing her an amused smile, “You always were too suspicious.”

“Anyhow, enough about us, we’re here to celebrate our Gildarts’ accomplishment!” Makarov cheered.

“Dude, I think I just met your new dad,” Silver whispered into Gildarts’ ear, earning him an elbow to his side.

“Do you have something to add, Silver?” Porlyusica fixed him with one of her no-nonsense looks.

Silver’s eyes twinkled with mischief, “No, ma’am, just that Gildarts worked really hard for this, and I’m really proud of him.” He gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, chuckling when Gildarts whispered, “Nice save.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” Makarov complimented, “it’s refreshing to see. How long have you been together?”

“About two and a half years,” Gildarts answered in between bites, “So how come you never told me you knew my mom?”

“Well,” Makarov tapped his fingers on the table, “I figured if you were anything like your mother you’d want to make sure you got the job on your own. And you did.” Makarov added quickly, “I chose you based on your own merit. I just didn’t want you to ever doubt it.”

“I just wish I could have gotten your help with this new project I’m working on, you’d be perfect for it,” Makarov said wistfully.

“Is this the center thing you mentioned on the phone?” Gildarts asked, eyes flashing with interest.

“A center?” Silver questioned, “What kind of center?”

“Well, the old-style orphanages are gone, replaced by something called the foster system. Now families can apply to care for children. The government pays them a stipend to cover the costs of housing a child in their care. It could be an orphan or a child taken away from its parents for any number of reasons. In time these families can even petition to adopt the child,” Makarov explained.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Silver commented, and it wasn’t hard to see he was excited about the idea, “I’d love for us to do something like that, Gil. Not now, of course, but maybe when we’re more settled, you know? We could get a bigger house, foster a few kids, maybe even give them a home.”

“You want us to have kids?” Gildarts gawked at his boyfriend, “You’d never said anything about that before.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“I hadn’t really considered it, but I mean, I like kids, and I love you so…” Gildarts scratched his head.

“I’m sorry to say you wouldn’t be allowed to,” Makarov interrupted Gildarts’ musing, “There are certain laws in place as to who can and cannot apply to foster a child, and unfortunately same-sex couples are in the cannot column.”

“What? But why?!” Silver protested, “We’d make excellent parents.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Makarov smiled kindly, “It’s obvious you love each other, and you’d probably be better parents than those that are just doing it for the money. To be honest, I feel the foster system has introduced more problems than it’s solved. That’s exactly why I want to open this center.”

“What do you mean?” Silver wrinkled his brow, trying to understand what the man was saying.

“Some of these kids get abused by their foster parents. More often than not, it’s their word against an adult’s, and the government isn’t that interested in taking them back now that they don’t have a lot of space to keep them,” Gildarts put in, “So if it gets bad enough, these kids turn to the streets, and it’s even worse for them there. Drugs, prostitution, slavery, they were talking about that in one of my classes last week. They can’t even get access to health care services cause that would get them caught. It’s even worse if they’re like us.”

Gildarts peered at Makarov with respect, “Is that what you want to do, create a place they can go to get services?”

“I knew it!” Porlyusica slammed her fist on the table, “I knew you were buttering me up for something. I have my own practice Makarov, I don’t have time to humor your whims.”

“Porly, these kids are getting lost. You always said Gildarts never had much, but he had you. These kids have no one. Besides, Rob, Yaj, and Goldmine already agreed to help. I’m even trying to get Bob to come back from Edolas for this.”

“You have Rob, you don’t need me.”

“You know as well as I do that some girls prefer female doctors,” Makarov reminded her, “You also know you’re only protesting cause I’m the one asking.”

“That’s enough! You were invited here to celebrate Gildarts’ achievement,” Porlyusica’s eyes flashed with anger, and to no one’s surprise, Makarov backed down.

“But Mom, this is really important.” Gildarts protested, “Didn’t you always tell me that if there was a way I could help it was my responsibility to do so?”

“No, Gildarts, she’s right, this wasn’t the right time to bring it up.” Makarov acknowledged, but a corner of his mouth lifted at Gildarts’ words.

Gildarts was about to say something when Silver spoke, “So do you have any funny stories from Gildarts’ internship you can tell us?”

“Do I ever,” Makarov grinned, eyeing Gildarts playfully, “There was this one girl in particular-”

“Noooo,” Gildarts groaned, “Please don’t tell him that story, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Even more reason to tell me,” Silver prodded, rubbing his hands together in glee.

They spent the rest of the dinner listening to Makarov’s stories, and despite his protests, Gildarts laughed along with them, always loving to be the center of attention. After helping to clear the table, Silver and Gildarts sat outside while Porlyusica gave Makarov a tour of her practice.

Gildarts put his arm around Silver’s shoulders, smiling when Silver leaned into him.

“What are you thinking about?” Gildarts asked when Silver had remained quiet for many minutes.

“Just how stupid this all is,” Silver sighed, “They’d rather have an abusive asshole care for a child than someone who doesn’t fit their idea of normal. It’s like they think we’re some kind of contagious disease or something. It just reminds me of growing up with my dad, terrified of him realizing how I felt, but still wanting his approval so damn badly.”

There wasn’t much Gildarts could say to that, so he squeezed his boyfriend’s hand tightly and changed the subject. “I never knew you felt so strongly about having kids.”

“I didn’t really think about it. Before I met you, I just assumed I’d end up marrying some girl and having kids. It’s what was expected of me, you know?” Silver tensed in his arms, “I’d never really considered any other outcome.”

“Silver,” Gildarts hesitated before continuing, “If this isn’t what you want long term, it’s okay.”

“That’s not what I said, I wouldn’t give you up just so I could have a family,” his forehead furrowed in thought. “A lot of those kids that Makarov was talking about, they run away because they’re like us, don’t they?”

“It’s not that simple, but yeah, a lot of them are LGBT or have untreated mental health issues. Sometimes they’re just physically abused or malnourished. There’s no one reason. The only thing they all probably have in common is that they’re scared.”

“I want us to help them if we can,” Silver entreated, “that’s kind of like being a parent too, isn’t it?”

“It is,“ Gildarts assured him, “I’ll tell Makarov we want to help however we can.”

“Do you think your mom will change her mind?” Silver asked, surprised when Gildarts started to laugh. “She never stood a chance,” he explained, “Makarov will continue to hound her until she says yes. He’s relentless. No wonder he was so eager to come over.”

Silver was still caught up in his own gloomy thoughts when he felt Gildarts kiss the top of his head before nuzzling it, “It won’t always be like this. People are starting to take notice of the injustices, and maybe this center will help bring awareness to some of these issues.”

More than anything, he wanted to share in Gildarts’ optimism, but he wasn’t as sure. In his experience, there was still too much hatred for things to change anytime soon.

They sat together in silence, watching the stars until they were called back inside for dessert.

0-0

“Wakey wakey, “ Gildarts singsonged annoyingly into Silver’s ear.

“Go away,” Silver whined, pushing his boyfriend away even as he tried to keep his eyes shut. “Come on, Gil, it’s Saturday, one of the few days we can sleep late.”

“Not today, come on, we’re going out,” Gildarts got up from the bed, grabbing the covers and taking them with him.

“Like that’s gonna work,” Silver muttered, snuggling into the sheets, grabbing hold of Gildarts’ pillow and hugging it to his chest. He tried to go back to sleep, but now that Gildarts had left the bed and taken all of the warmth with him, he couldn’t seem to settle again. After a few more attempts, he groaned and got up.

He walked out of their bedroom and scowled at his boyfriend, who was cheerfully preparing breakfast and coffee.

“How can you be this fucking chipper?”

Gildarts only laughed and handed him a mug filled with coffee before grabbing the plates of food off the counter and moving them to the table. “Not all of us are grumpy in the morning. Now hurry up and eat.”

Silver tried to remain irritated, but it was hard to do when everything looked and smelled so good. “Fine,” he relented, ”What is so important that we needed to get up so early?”

Gildarts rolled his eyes and sat across from him, “Dude, it’s like ten o’clock. It stopped being early hours ago.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Silver declared, feeling the beginnings of curiosity gnaw at him.

“That’s because it’s a surprise.” There was a gleam to Gildarts’ eyes that Silver wasn’t sure he trusted, but he knew from experience if his boyfriend was determined to keep something to himself, there was no getting it out of him.

They finished eating and quickly got ready, leaving their apartment roughly thirty minutes later. The fall air was invigorating, and they began to walk towards the university. Thinking that they were headed to some student performance or something, Silver stopped paying attention to where they were going and trusted Gildarts to lead them while he thought about what he still needed to get done before Monday’s classes.

They stopped sooner than what he had anticipated, and he soon realized they weren’t on campus. In fact, they were standing in front of the Magnolia Animal Shelter, which had a colorful sign hung up, declaring that day as an Adoption Day.

He turned to look at his boyfriend in confusion, noticing that he seemed almost shy for once, “What are we doing here?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, the things you wanted and-,” Gildarts seemed flustered, his fingers combing through his hair, “and I know this isn’t the same, but it is something we can adopt together.”

“Someday we’ll have that future you talked about with the house and the kids,” he said reassuringly, “but until then, maybe this can serve as a sort of promise. Either way, it’ll be good practice.”

Silver was at a loss for words, he’d never expected Gildarts to take what he’d said so seriously. Certainly not enough to try to do something about it, and for once, he threw caution to the wind, kissing Gildarts in broad daylight for anyone to see.

“Thank you,” Silver breathed out, smirking at the flabbergasted expression on Gildarts’ face, who could only nod in reply.

He pointed to the door of the shelter and asked, “Shall we?”

“I’ve never had a pet before,” Gildarts admitted, “This is kind of exciting.”

“Ah, so the truth comes out, you just wanted to convince me to get a dog,” Silver teased, chuckling when Gildarts immediately protested the accusation.

They entered the building already discussing what kind of dog they wanted, spending almost an hour looking into every kennel they could. Gildarts was excited about getting a puppy, but Silver was convinced that they needed a dog that was already housebroken since they were often gone for long periods of the day.

They had almost made their choice, much to the delight of the frazzled volunteer, when Silver noticed an older lady looking sadly at a dog they had walked past earlier.

Gildarts had also noticed her and had already walked over, “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

“What?” She blinked at him in surprise, “Oh, yes.”

Silver joined them, his curiosity aroused as well. Inside the kennel, there was a young, gray pitbull, with a white belly and gorgeous blue eyes, who looked rather sweet and seemed to be whimpering at the old lady. “Are you planning to take him home?” he asked after checking the information card.

The old lady sighed, “I can’t, I was the one that brought him here. My tenant association threatened to have me evicted otherwise. They said Slate was dangerous, but that’s not true.

“I didn’t want to give him up,” the old woman looked at Silver apologetically, “but I have nowhere else to go, and I couldn’t find anyone to take him.”

Silver could see Gildarts narrowing his eyes as he read the card, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of the kennel and calling out to the dog.

“Come here, Slate,” he called, and the dog cocked his head at him. A few seconds later, he moved to sniff Gildarts’ offered hand. He whimpered again, his tail wagging tentatively.

“Who’s a good boy?” Gildarts cooed as he patted the dog on the head, already looking at Silver with wide, pleading eyes.

Silver reread the information card to see what had caused Gildarts’ sudden interest, and that’s when he caught something that he’d missed before, making his stomach drop.

DEATH DATE: 09/10

That was tomorrow! Silver knelt next to Gildarts, holding out his hand as well, smiling as the dog licked it.

“His name is Slate, Silver,” Gildarts coaxed.

Silver turned his attention to the woman, “Is there anything we need to know about him?”

“He’s a wonderful dog, he’s very affectionate. Please don’t let them kill him,” the woman was close to tears, and he could see Gildarts was as close as he’d ever seen him. Apparently Porlyusica was not the only softie, Silver mused.

“Well, let’s take him for a walk then.”

Slate was indeed a wonderful dog, and five minutes into the walk, he’d already started to worm himself into their hearts. They decided to adopt him and demanded both their names be on the application, to the confusion of the woman writing up the form.

An hour later they left, after having purchased all the things they would need, using up some of the money Gildarts had saved for emergencies.

They spent the rest of the day at home, getting Slate settled in. Silver tried to get back to his studies but couldn't help but peek over the edge of his book, drawn to the almost childlike joy he could hear in Gildarts' giggles. He watched with adoration as Gildarts lay on the floor, wrestling with Slate, who rewarded him by enthusiastically licking his face.

After a few more failed attempts at studying Silver gave in to the urge of joining them on the floor. Slate came right up to him to give him dog kisses too, and he could hear Gildarts’ chuckle at whatever expression he was making. Once he was done with his greeting Slate settled between them, tired from all the playing and exploring of his new home.

“Are we still going to your mom’s tomorrow?” Silver asked as he stroked the smooth coat of fur on Slate's head, smiling at how content the dog already seemed with them.

“Of course! We have to introduce her to the grandkid,” Gildarts snickered as Silver rolled his eyes.

“Well, we should let this little guy go out to do his business before we get to bed then, you know she likes us to get there early,” Silver reminded him.

Gildarts hummed in agreement, getting up to look for the leash they had bought. Once they’d managed to coax Slate up they walked him down the stairs and out the door. It was late enough that the streets were mostly empty so when he felt Gildarts lace their hands together Silver didn’t even blink.

And perhaps this was the biggest gift of all, these little moments they could now look forward to where they were just a couple taking their dog out for a walk, free to express their love even if only in the cover of night.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #ftglbtpride2020 #sildarts #ftlgbtales #silver x gildarts #I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 #fics #update #prompt: gift #dads pride 2020

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years

Text

Love and Leather /part thirty five/

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: Ya’ll, my feelings are fucking hurt after writing this. Please enjoy.

Warnings: Drugs, language, alcohol, extreme angst

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @fandomshit6000, @annthebonelessm @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @dillightfulpickle, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @nikkisixxsixxsixx, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @marvelismylifffe, @zoenicoles, @pfft-halsey, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults @cruebaby, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @emmaelizabeth2014

“Time to wake up! It’s noon and your guests will be here in a few hours!” Mom was over exuberant as she opened my bedroom door. I groaned as I sat up in bed noticing Nikki was already gone. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at her.

“Where’s Nikki?” I asked her, she smiled sweetly at me while walking over to my bed as she sat down at the foot of it, “He’s downstairs, the boys are enjoying the pool.” I nodded as I got out of the bed, starting to rummage through the closet for what I could wear today.

“Are you dating him?” I exhaled deeply, I didn’t want the interrogation this early in the morning, or afternoon I should say. “We’re just friends, mom.” I replied, getting irritated because nothing looked good to wear.

“And you have...sex with him?” She asked, trying to clarify for herself, “Yes mom, we’re friends and I sleep with him.”

“Well, why aren’t you dating him? I saw the way you two interact last night and from an outsider looking in, you two act like you’re already in love.” I rolled my eyes as I sat down at the vanity, ha. I wiped off the remaining smudges of make up that were from last night.

“No we don’t, we’re just best friends, I know everything about him, and he knows everything about me. I’m not in love with Nikki.” I explained, as she let out a huff, “Well does he love you?” I shook my head, “No, he doesn’t. He’s even said it. We’ve already talked about it mom, just let it go.” I knew by the way mom looked at me she knew I was getting upset.

“Why are you getting mad?” She asked, walking over to me as she helped fix my hair from the rats nest it was in.

“I’m not, just everyone thinks Nikki and I are more than what we are and it’s annoying. Why can’t a guy and a girl just be friends?” I asked, she let out a laugh, “Honey, they usually don’t sleep together when they are friends.” I rolled my eyes, “I trust Nikki, and he’s there for me whenever I need him.” Sighing in contempt as I thought about him.

“But are you there for him?” Mom asked, “Thats the important part, I know you are very skeptical about relationships.” She continued on, “I try to be. He’s very difficult sometimes, and it’s frustrating.” I explained as I finished brushing my hair, now parting it for two French braids.

“Why’s it frustrating?” I put the brush down, turning around to look at her, “Cause mom! He says things sometimes! And he does things that only a boyfriend should be saying and doing! Like every time he’s away on tour, he calls and we tell each other how much we miss one another! And I spend hours into the nights with him just talking about everything and anything! And he, he just looks at me a certain way sometimes, and when he does that I can’t breathe.”

Mom smiled, “Sounds to me like you two have something to talk about.” I shook my head, “I’d be so scared to be in a relationship with him. He’s one of rock n rolls biggest bad boys and I see what he does on a daily basis.” I confessed to her as I finished the braids and as Nikki walked through the closed bedroom door.

“Oh, you’re already up.” He says, smiling at me as he leaned against the door. Mom looked back and forth between him and I. “Well, I’m gonna talk to Loretta and see when catering will be here.” She said, scooting pass Nikki and leaving.

“What was that about?” He asked coming over and kissing the top of my head, “Just a mother and daughter talk.” I mumbled, as he nodded and sat down on the bed.

I think what I said last night made things awkward.

“We’re okay, right?” I questioned, looking at him through the mirror.

“Why do you ask that?” He seemed curious, but the smirk on his pink lips said otherwise. I shrugged my shoulders, “Dunno, just asking.”

I stood up and walked over to my closet, grabbing a pink bikini and putting it on quickly. “Can you tie these?” I asked Nikki, turning my back towards him as he grabbed the strings. When he was done, he lowered his head and kissed my bare shoulder.

“We are fine, Princess. Don’t worry.” He reassured me, I quickly nodded as he gave me a smile. “I just think eventually, we will have to have a conversation you don’t want to have.” My gaze met his, “Not now.” I quickly spoke, stepping away from his embrace. I saw him roll his eyes out of the corner of my eye.

“Just...not right now.” I breathed out, pulling on a pair of short daisy dukes. “When?” Nikki asked, I groaned as i opened up my bedroom door.

“I don’t know. Just forget I said anything last night.” I muttered, looking down at the white carpet then back up to him. “I think you’re just scared of being happy with me.” I scoffed at his response.

“I am going downstairs and I’m not talking about this again, Nikki.” I roughly spoke as I turned my back to him, hearing him mumble under his breath all the way down the stairs.

“Good morning sweetheart, I have breakfast for you outside. Your guests should start arriving in around two hours.” Loretta explained, placing a cup of coffee in my hand, “Are you bringing your kids today? I always liked hanging around Jason and Brandon.” I asked, smirking as a I saw Nikki’s glare when he walked behind Loretta to grab a water.

“Yes, they both will be here. You know they have such a soft spot for you.” I smiled, nodding as Nikki’s face turned sour. I watched him quickly leave the kitchen, slamming the back door before going outside.

I was quickly sidelined by a towel being swatted against my arm, “Ow, Loretta.” I yelped, rubbing the red spot on my arm, “I saw you two last night in the hot tub.” I felt my face get warm, “Uh...we were just...um..” I couldn’t muster a sentence as she smirked at me.

“I was really drunk last night.” I explained, but she waved me off, “Greyson already blabbed about it, seems you are a wild child, hermosa.” She retorted, “The boy seems...nice. Gloomy. But nice.” I scratched the top of my head, awkwardly standing next to her.

“We’re just friends.” She laughed at me when I said that, “Ingenuo, ingenuo, ingueno.” She cackled, continuing to chop up some stuff for later.

“I am not naive!” I defended myself, “As much as I love your mother, she is naive just like you are. I don’t believe you for one second when you tell me you and him are just friends.” She explained.

“It’s in the eyes, Bonita. The eyes never lie.” I rolled my eyes, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, or I’m telling your mother you stole the key to get the booze.” I immediately stopped, “Sorry..” I quietly apologized to her.

I shortly left the kitchen. I went outside walking past the boys as I felt their eyes follow my ass. I sat down with Mick at the table.

“How many chicks have you fucked so far?” I had heard Nikki ask Vince, “Uh...three.” I looked at Mick as we both rolled our eyes.

“No not today, on the tour.” Nikki clarified as I started eating the fruit and English muffin on the plate in front of me, “Oh...I lost count after that gang bang in Salt Lake City.” I forced the vomit back down, “That was fun.” Nikki laughed, lounging back on the pool chair.

“How about you old man?” Vince giggled as he asked Mick.

“Don’t you guys realize that the girls you fuck, probably fuck every rockstar that comes through town?” Mick questioned, making all three of those idiots bust out in laughter.

“We’re like pussy brothers with the whole scene.” Tommy added on, making the other two laugh again.

“Unlike you clowns, I happen to respect the females of our species.” Mick retorted, “Thanks, glad to know there’s still gentleman out there.” I added on making Mick give me a sweet smile.

I watched as mom, and I’m assuming the party planner arrange yellow and white balloons around the backyard.

“Whose ready to have some fucking fun?” Greyson yelled walking out in swim trunks, “Grey, don’t cuss!” Mom was quick to correct his behavior.

“We need to get him laid.” Tommy pointed out, “He’s still a virgin?!” Vince laughed, as I rolled my eyes.

“He’s never even had a girlfriend.” I told them, “Dude...set him up with one of your friends.” Tommy said, nudging my arm.

“I have tried, but he’s really shy around girls.” I explained.

“Hey Vanity, you want to go for a swim?” Greyson snickered, “Fuck you.” I retorted, standing up to go see what mom was planning.

“No, we’re going!” Greyson shouted, wrapping me up and dangling me over the deep end of the pool.

“Greyson! Stop!” I shouted, but he started lowering me into the water, “Mom!!!” I yelled for her but she wasn’t doing anything about it.

“Oh come on, Vanity! You’re twenty six years old now! It’s time to get over the fear of water!” Greyson yelled in my ear.

“ Greyson, c’mon, put her down.” Nikki spoke up,

“Lucky your boyfriend is here.” Greyson whispered, putting my feet down on the concrete that surrounded the pool.

“Asshole!” I shouted before shoving him in.

I shook it off, walking over to mom and the party planner as they were discussing things. “I think we should have the music over here, that way everyone is not tripping over wires.” I looked at the papers they were going over.

“Why hire someone when we have the band, I’m sure they would perform for us?” I asked Mom, “Oh, no, no. We hired another band.” The party planner spoke out. “A cover band.” I rolled my eyes.

“A fucking cover band? Really?” I scoffed, “Vanity.” Mom muttered my name sternly. “This is the food you’re getting? I don’t like half the stuff on here.” I pointed out, becoming upset as Mom knew all these things.

“Red velvet cake?! Mom, I hate red velvet! I told you I wanted white cake with yellow and pink frosting.” I whined, knowing I was on the edge of throwing a tantrum.

“I love red velvet.” Nikki said, walking up behind me, placing his hand on my lower back. “Well it’s my party, and I don’t want it.” I defended myself.

“Princess, don’t be a brat. Your mom is just doing something nice for you.” Nikki sided with my mom.

“We can perform a few songs, if you wanted.” Nikki added on, “They hired a cover band.” I explained, watching the expression on his face twist to annoyance.

“A cover band? Just hire a real band.” Nikki laughed, “They better not cover any of my songs.” Nikki mumbled.

“Just go away. You’re complicating everything, Vanity.” Mom spoke to me as I rolled my eyes, “Well maybe if you asked me beforehand, I wouldn’t be complicating things.” I snapped at her, but she ignored me.

I huffed as Nikki trailed his hand up and down my back, “Come.” He said, wrapping his hand around mine and pulling me to the pool.

I laughed, “You have me so fucked up, right now.” I watched as he stepped into the pool, trying to pull me in with him.

“Nikki, no.” I let go of his hand as he gave me a stern look, “I’m not taking no for an answer, you’re getting in the pool. Look it’s shallow.” He motioned as I grumbled. I unbuttoned the shorts I was wearing, getting a whistle from Tommy and Vince as I pulled them down my legs, before throwing it at them.

The shallow part of the pool was already waist deep for me. “I’m not going any further.” I protested, crossing my arms against my chest.

“Doll, just...c’mere.” He spoke softly, taking my hand and pulling me towards him. I was hesitant as he started pulling me towards deeper water.

“No..no...” I said, trying to push away from him but his arms were wrapped around me like a vise grip. My hands gripped his shoulders as I was barely touching the bottom of the pool.

“See, it’s fine. I got you.” He reassured me, pressing a soft kiss against my cheek.

“Nikki and Vanity sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” I groaned when my annoying sister came outside. I quickly splashed water towards her to get her to shut up.

Nikki mumbled, placing kisses along my shoulder. His hands slid down to pick me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he moved us to the deep end of the pool.

I clutched on to him as I stared at the bottom of the pool. “See? It’s not that bad.” Nikki chuckled, his hands gently rubbing my ass.

“You’re right, it’s actually quite worse.” I groaned, not breaking away from looking at the six foot deep pool, but to me it looked as if it went on forever.

Nikki’s hands let go of the back of my thighs, “No, Nikki. Please don’t.” I whined, clutching to him tighter as he laughed.

He pried my arms away from his neck, “Just relax...” He cooed, slowly taking my legs from the position they were in, he still had a hold around my waist.

I closed my eyes, muttering under my breath to try and calm myself down. I felt his arm unravel from my waist, “Nikki, I swear.” I groaned as he slowly pushed away from me leaving me in the middle of the deep end as he backed himself up to the wall of the pool.

I saw his stupid smile under his stupid sunglasses, “You’re literally the fucking devil.” I chimed in, as he laughed loudly, “But look at you, swimming in a deep pool. I’m proud of you.” He replied, giving me a wide a grin as I swam over to him.

I was quick to splash water in his face. He groaned, taking off his glasses and pushing them up. When the hair was out of his face I could actually see all of his facial features, his eyes were my favorite.

“You have gorgeous eyes.” I expressed as he laughed, shyly shaking his head as he put them back down on his face, “Hey man, it’s one. Didn’t you say you were going to meet Doc?” Tommy spoke out, “Huh? What are you talking about?” Nikki said, confused as Tommy gave him a look.

“oh..yeah, yes you’re right.” Nikki said, leaving me in the pool as he pulled himself up out and grabbed a towel.

“Where you going?” I asked following his movements, “Nikki?” I questioned again as he didn’t answer me, “I gotta...I gotta go see Doc.” He was quick to speak as he pulled a shirt on.

“My party starts in an hour....” I trailed off as he gave me a quick glance, “I know, I know. I’ll be back.” Nikki said, I backed up from him as he started walking to the door, but I followed him anyways.

“Nik...can’t it wait?” I asked, tugging on his wrist to get him to stop as he was in a hurry, but he didn’t even budge.

“Babe?” I spoke softly as he turned around to face me, “Princess, I’ll be back okay? I just gotta talk to him about stuff.” I huffed, giving myself a hug as I became cold outside of the water.

“Didn’t you guys talk enough last night? What else is there to talk about?” Nikki stood up tall as he looked down at me, “Nikki, I’m not dumb. Where are you going?” I was straight forward with him, not buying his bullshit for one moment.

“Vanity, it’s none of your damn business. I will be back.” Nikki snapped, swiftly opening up the door and closing it.

I went back outside and straight to T-bone, “Where is he going?” I asked, standing over him with hands on my hips, “Uh...to talk to Doc, duh. Didn’t you hear me?” Tommy giggled.

I rolled my eyes, quickly taking off his sunglasses, “Where is Nikki going?” I demanded, noticing that he couldn’t look at me. “T-bone. I won’t be mad, just tell me.” I said sweetly, my hand brushing over his thigh.

“I Uh...Sixx...um-“ “He went to go get you a present, he was telling me about it this morning.” Vince butted in, “Some jewelry place, I think.” He continued.

I felt rather stupid that I was getting worked up over it, “It’s okay, kid.” Tommy nudged my chin with his fist gently, “Sixx drives all the girls crazy.” He says with a laugh as I push him back against the chair.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, I suggest you two do the same. You’re fine Mick.” I ordered, looking at them as I went back inside to get ready.

*Micks POV*

“You two shouldn’t of lied to her.” I mumbled, taking a swig out of my vodka filled water bottle.

“She’s gonna freak out when he comes back high.” I continued, “She’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He said he was just gonna score some more smack and then be right back here. It’s fine.” Vince retorted, continuing to sunbathe.

“You better pray you are right about that one, blondie.” I retorted, groaning as the guys weren’t even listening anymore.

“I hope there’s some hot babes that come that will make me cum.” Vince said, making Tommy laugh as I rolled my eyes.

I continued drinking, hoping that Sixx wouldn’t come back fucked up. And if he did? I hope he knows what the hell he’s doing.

Vanity may be naive at certain times, but she can read through Nikki’s façade faster than anyone surrounding him. She knows when he’s high and when he’s not. I mean, except for last night…but she was just really fucked up.

Nikki likes to joke that he has this other side of him, almost another personality when he’s high and super fucked up. He calls it Sikki Nixx. And I hope for Vanity’s well being, he doesn’t make an appearance. I don’t know what she would do if she ever saw that side of him.

*Vanity’s POV*

I pulled up the yellow flowery dress that stopped not even mid thigh. I glanced down at my cleavage, “Nice.” I mumbled to myself before taking out the braids I had put in earlier, letting the loose waves dangle down to below my shoulders.

I put a touch of make up, the deep red shade filled out my lips, while the light golden eye shadow made my hazel eyes pop. I spritzed on some perfume before clasping the bracelet from Nikki around my wrist.

I walked downstairs, hearing music from the backyard and people chatting.

“There you are, honey! Come on, your guests are here.” I gulped, putting on a smile as I walked towards her, “Best behavior.” Mom whispered into my ear, as I nodded.

It was the same thing at every party. Every business fundraiser, every black tie gala I’ve ever been too. Mom always told me to be on my best behavior, to impress everyone and anyone. To put on my best million dollar smile and fake laugh at every joke a man said who is old enough to be my grandfather, ‘that’s where the money is, those are the investors’. Dads words echoed through my head.

Yeah it was a birthday party to celebrate me, but at the end of the day, it was for mom to prove that the Blackwoods’ were still the richest family in the American oil industry.

The first person to approach me was Melanie Smith, I went to private school with her. She’s an okay gal when she’s not drunk on three dry martinis.

“Oh Vanity, it’s so wonderful to see you. How have you been? I heard you were living in Los Angeles now?” I was about to answer her but she continued anyways.

“I was just in Los Angeles seeing a fabulous doctor, he worked on my nose.” She said, gripping my shoulders as she whispered the last part, “It looks great, Melanie.” I lied, I couldn’t tell the difference.

“If you can excuse me.” I said, seeing the boys laughing with Greyson across the yard. I didn’t see Nikki though.

I was cut off by Warren G. Davidson, he was still handsome as ever. Even if he was thirty years older then me, had four children and I think he was on his fifth wife…he could still get it anytime, anyplace, anywhere.

He was daddy’s right hand man, he was there at his bedside with us when he took his last breath.

“How are you sugar?” He said pulling me into a hug, I could smell the scotch on his breath.

I pulled away from his embrace, hands gripping his forearms as I looked at him, “I’m doing wonderful, I’m so happy you could be here.” I smiled joyfully, he was one of the few business people I could stand.

“As am I, I’m happy you came home. You’re mom has been telling me wild stories of you hanging out with a deranged group of guys.” The smile quickly left my face.

Has she told everyone about the band? Or about me and Nikki? Even if there wasn’t a me and Nikki?

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. They’re right over there, so excuse me.” I smiled apologetically as I let go of him.

“And there’s that fine piece of ass, come give me some love.” I groaned when I heard that voice.

“Roman, it’s not a pleasure to see you.” I grumbled as he pulled me into a tight squeeze.

Roman Davidson, Warrens second oldest son. And the guy I gave my first blow job too in the back of his Chevy truck. He is convinced we are meant to be. Soulmates is the word I believed he said one time.

His hand reached down to my ass, “Hands off.” I spoke up, gently pushing him away from me, “C’mon baby, stop denying me. I’ll make you feel like a million bucks.” I rolled my eyes as I walked away from him.

I was almost to the boys when my least favorite pair of blonde haired twins stopped me. Francesca and Andrea Copeland. They were the second richest family in the oil industry. They were also at the top of the socialite list here in Dallas. Apparently Vince has fucked one of them, or both. He said he couldn’t remember. It was back when Motley was still in their ‘Shout at the Devil’ days because they were virgins at the time, and that’s what Nikki and Vince wanted. Nikki swears up and down he didn’t fuck them. Did I believe him? No.

And when I mean virgins, I mean they only did it anally up until they met Vince fucking Neil.

“Please tell us how you found yourself wrapped up with Mötley Crüe?” Francesca asked me, I shrugged as I tried walking past them but they blocked me.

Did I mention that they use to pick on me in school? Daddy almost sued their family.

“We fucked them before you did.” Andrea spoke up, “Vince, Nikki and Tommy. Not that weird little one.”

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth! Don’t talk about Mick like that!” I snapped at them, “Guess she still has anger issues.” Andrea whispered into her sisters ear.

“And is now a little skank.” Francesca said, motioning to the dress I was wearing, before pointing to the bruise from Nikki on my neck.

I let out a sigh of relief as Tommy grabbed my arm, “Hello ladies, excuse me but I need to borrow little miss birthday princess for a moment.”

“Tommy, you remember me right?” Andrea said flirtatiously, as she stuck out her chest. “Uh….no.”

Tommy quickly dragged me inside, “You don’t understand how-“ I stopped talking when I saw Nikki being held up by both Vince and Greyson.

“Oh, baby…there you are. C’mere.” Nikki said, pushing away from the guys as he stepped towards me, wobbling on his feet.

“You’re fucked up.” I laughed bitterly, “I…yes..but let me explain.” Nikki said, holding up his finger as I waited for the great explanation this time.

“You told me…you told me to go find it. So I did.” He slurred his words, his eyes were all pupil and no color.

“You went to go find smack!?!” I screamed at him, shoving him against my front door, “Yes, cause you told me too. You didn’t fucking care.” He spat back.

“Oh fuck you, Nikki! You know that’s not what I fucking meant!!” I yelled at him, “Okay…just take a breath. People are looking.” Greyson got in between us.

I took a deep breath in and nodded, “Get your fucking act together, Nikki.” I warned him, shoving him against the door once more.

I quickly walked outside, going over to the make shift bar Mom had hired, “Shot of Jack.” I ordered, quickly shooting it down as he handed it to me.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?” I smiled, recognizing their voice.

“I’ll take what she’s having.” My smile grew wider as I turned around, almost crying because I’ve missed them so much.

“Lucia! Tonya!” I shouted, quickly pulling both of them into a hug, “I can’t belie-you guys are are really here! Who talked to you!?” I shouted, pulling away from them, “Vinny and T-Bone, they called us a few days ago.” Tonya clarified.

“Well…spill it. How has life on the road been the last few months?” I laughed, “Round of Jack please.” I said looking at the bartender. “I don’t even know where to begin…” I trailed off, running my black painted nails through my hair.

“To sum it all up-“ I turned towards them, lifting up my dress so they could see the tattoo on my ass. They immediately started laughing, “Thats how it’s been.” I spoke, quickly fixing my dress and putting it down.

The girls stopped smiling when Nikki stumbled over, bumping into me and knocking over the glass, “Pull yourself together, you’re embarrassing me.” I said, grabbing onto his arm to make him stand up straight.

“I’m embarrassing? Cool.” He rolled his eyes, “Jack and Coke. Now.” He ordered, impatiently waiting as the man made his drink, “Hurry the fuck up. Don’t you know who I fucking am?” Nikki’s voice was full of rage.

The girls gave me a sympathetic look, “Nikki, please?” I begged him, “Pull it together.” His eyes wandered to the brunette that walked up to the bar.

“Hey, not in front of me.” I said, gripping his chin to make him look at me, “I’m not you’re fucking boyfriend.” He snarled, roughly pulling my hand away from his face.

I couldn’t fucking believe him. How dare he use that against me!

Nikki quickly brushed me off as he put up a front and acted completely sober as he talked to this chick. Lucia and Tonya quickly pulled me away from him.

“What the hell was that?” Tonya demanded to know, as I just shook my head, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” I explained, as she rolled her eyes.

“It didn’t look like nothing? Is he drunk?” She asked me, “He’s high.” I said disappointed, “Really fucking high.” I bit my lip as I watched him get handsy with this girl. I’ve never felt a single ounce of jealousy once when it comes to the girls that surround him. I knew what I meant to him, even if it was unspoken between us. I knew that I had him and that he had me.

I pulled it together when Damien Hampton walked up to me. His great, great grandfather developed most of the houses on the historic district of Dallas. His family was oozing with money. And boy, was he a walking piece of sex.

“It’s nice to see you. Happy late birthday.” His words were smooth as he clutched a bottle of Heineken. His hand went through his slicked back black hair as he gave me a smoldering gaze.

“Thank you, thanks for coming. How is your mom?” He showed me his pearly whites through a side grin, “Shes good. She sends her best wishes. She had to take a trip to Miami for business.”

“Damien, this is Lucia and Tonya, they’re my friends from Los Angeles.” I introduced them, noticing the imaginary drool dripping out of their mouth as they Gawked at him.

“Hello ladies.” He said, sending a wink to both of them. He knew how hot he was and he used it to his advantages.

“Y’know, I never did get you that drink I promised you.” I laughed at his words, “That was three years ago. I’m surprised you remembered.” I retorted.

“Of course I remember baby girl. You were wearing a blue dress with black heels, your hair was curled in an up-do. And you looked sexy as hell. Still do. I like this dress.” He stated, his fingers fumbling with the bottom hem of the dress as he pressed his other hand to my lower back.

I felt the heat creep across my cheeks as he looked at me. He had killer blue eyes that I was currently drowning in. His lips tugged into a smirk that never faded away from his face.

“We’re gonna go talk to the guys.” Tonya said, “Yeah, go ahead.” I shooed them away as Damien and I continued talking.

“How about you and I take a trip up to your room real quick.” His breath was hot in my ear as he lowered his head down to me, “Like last time when you snuck me in.” I smiled, biting my lip as I thought about his offer.

“To hear those noises from you again, man.” He breathed out, loosening up his tie a little bit. I licked my lips as my hand ran over the front of his pants, teasing him just a little bit, “Maybe you can-“

“Hey baby, whose this?” I glared at Nikki as he clutched a bottle of beer, “Baby?” Damien asked, confused, taking a step away from me.

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend?” Damien questioned, looking at Nikki, I could tell he was judging him. “He’s not-“

“Yeah I’m her boyfriend, she’s kinda shy about it.” Nikki interrupted me, roughly pulling me to his side, “Who are you?” Nikki asked, throwing an arm over my shoulder and taking a sip of his beer.

“Damien Hampton…And you’re Uh….Nikki Sixx. Big fan, dude.” I tried leaving Nikki’s side, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Nikki, stop.” I whispered into his ear, “Didn’t think you’d find yourself with a rockstar.” Damien chuckled.

“I’m lucky aren’t I? Isn’t she a nice piece of ass?” Nikki spoke out, roughly grabbing my bottom.

“Yeah, She is. We hooked up a few years ago.” I hated when guys talked about me like this. It made me feel like nothing but a piece of meat.

“Guess we won’t be taking a trip upstairs, now will we?” Damien smirked, as I could feel Nikki glaring at me. “It was nice talking to you.” Nikki abruptly put an end to the conversation as he pulled me away.

“God, you’re acting like a fucking pig.” I said, shoving him away from me as I scoffed in disgust at his actions.

Nikki laughed, “Now you want to speak up? I always talk like this.” I rolled my eyes, “No, you don’t. Not to me at least. I’m not one of these whores you fuck daily, Sixx.” I spat my frustrations out at him.

“You sure keep acting like it. I watched you throw yourself all over him.” He pointed out, making it seem like it was my fault.

“Unbelievable.” I muttered, exhaling as I tried to relax.

“Nikki…” I spoke softly as I cupped his jaw, “Please, I am begging you. Don’t ruin my party.” I pleaded with him, as he rolled his eyes.

“I know you’re mad at me.” He mumbled, “You’re right. I am extremely pissed off, livid even. You said you haven’t touched heroin in a few days, so what gives?”

“You told me to go find it.” I scoffed, “Nikki, that’s not what I meant. You know that.” I said, taking my hands off his face as he stepped away from me.

“You didn’t care when I told you, so don’t fucking start now. And don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you in front of all your rich, snobby friends. I’m probably gonna fuck a few of them later.” He grinned like the devil himself. I couldn’t stand the look on his face. I didn’t recognize anything about him. Usually it was tolerable as he would shoot up, pass out, wake up and say sorry for getting high. But this was different.

“Okay…” I said quietly as I watched him walk away from me.

I kept my eye on Nikki throughout every conversation I had, at one point he went inside with a blonde and came back out fifteen minutes later with a redhead. Then eventually he went inside by himself, only to come back out ten minutes later stumbling around even more.

I watched Mick pull him aside to talk to him, hopefully speaking some god damn sense to Nikki. I saw Nikki try to put up a fight, but Mick more then likely got stern with him as he shut down.

“Excuse me…I need another drink.” I said to the group of people I was pretending to listen too as I walked over to the bar

“Parties fun.” Tommy said, nudging my shoulder. I nodded, trying to put on a smile.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I spoke, as I ordered another glass of champagne. It wasn’t cutting it. But mom said ladies don’t drink beer when I tried to order one.

“I’m sorry about Nikki….I know he’s super fucked up right now.” Tommy gave me a sincere apology for his behavior, “Why would he even do this? He knew today was important.” I whined, trying not to get worked up and start crying in front of T-bone.

“I wanted to introduce him to some important people, but I can’t when he’s like this.” I explained to Tommy, feeling sorry for myself. I fucking knew better then to trust him.

“I don’t get him sometimes. Like last night he asked me to be his date to your wedding, and he was really sweet even after what I did at the strip club…and then he just does this? Like I’m nothing to him.” I vented my frustrations to Tommy. He started rubbing my back as he could tell I was getting worked up.

“I don’t know. He’s just being selfish…and clearly a fucking idiot. He’ll regret it when he finally passes out…but I don’t see that happening for a while. He’s pretty loaded, he said he shot up both coke and smack.”

“He’s gonna end up killing himself.” I said worrisome, “He’s fine. I think we’ll get him in rehab before that were to ever happen.” Tommy said, laughing at his own words.

“Rehab…right. Cause that would go over well.” I rolled my eyes, laughing with Tommy. “I see Vince has found himself some entertainment.” I added on, pointing to Vince and the four chicks that were in the pool with him.

“I give it an hour, he’ll probably take them all to the tour bus.” Tommy spoke, my attention being taken away as the band mom and the party planner hired started to play to the beat of ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.’ I actually really fucking hated this song.

“A fucking cover band? Really?” Mick said, walking up to us as clutched a glass of vodka, “Your mother always seems to amazes me. Really? A cover band? She couldn’t just ask us to play a few songs?” Mick exasperated, I shrugged. “I’m sure you guys could, but Nikki.” I motioned over to him, “He’s played fucked up before. Doesn’t sound good. But he’s done it.” Mick pointed out.

Nikki soon stumbled his way over to the three of us, “Hey man, get it together.” Tommy said, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a stern look.

“What? I’m fine. It’s all good T-bone.” Nikki retorted, I noticed smeared lipstick on the side of his neck.

“You’re certainly not all good, man.” Tommy spoke back, making Nikki roll his eyes, “Lighten up man. Stop fucking running to my band mates.” Nikki was quick to jump down my throat.

“You do it all the fucking time, it’s annoying.” Nikki continued as the guys looked at him unimpressed, “Leave her alone. You’re being an idiot.” Mick replied, jumping to my defenses.

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. She’s being a cunt.” I was quick to shove Nikki when he called me that.

“Knock it off or i’m kicking you out.” I threatened him, “Yeah? So you can be a fucking slut without me around? I’ve bet you’ve already fucked half the guys here.” Nikki’s words were cold as he glared at me.

“Y’know What Nikki? Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go sit on someone else’s dick.” I retorted, noticing his jaw clench and fist balled at his sides.

“Don’t test him, he will snap.” Tommy said, putting his arm around my waist as he slyly whispered into my ear. I smirked at his words as I lightly pushed T-bone away from me.

“Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do. Go find a dick to suck since I’m such a big slut and have been with no other guy but you. Yeah, sounds good to me.” I was being petty as I slapped the side of Nikki’s shoulder before walking away from them.

Shortly after I found myself sitting on Duke Mitchell’s lap. His mom developed a program for under privileged youth. They get free meals over the summer when there’s no school, school supplies in the fall, and jackets when winter comes around.

Duke was also a rebound after Julian got arrested, maybe Nikki was right. I have fucked plenty of guys that were socializing in my back yard. Rebound after Julian, and now a guy to piss Nikki off. And I think it was working as his eyes haven’t left me once.

I felt Duke nibble on my ear, “Come back to my house when the parties over.” He whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on the side of my neck. His hands were getting dangerously close as he was rubbing my outer thigh.

“Let’s just go upstairs right now.” I muttered, running one hand through his blonde hair and the other over the tattoo he had on his chest that was peaking out of the half buttoned shirt.

“I like the idea of that.” He responded with a smirk as I got off his lap, reaching for his hand as we started walking inside.

I stopped when the microphone echoed, causing a loud piercing noise to sound off, “Shit, you’re short.” I heard Nikki’s voice through the amplifier, I am going to fucking kill him before the heroin has a chance too.

“Hello? Hey, yeah sorry about the noise.” Nikki grumbled into the mic, “Excuse me.” I said letting go of Dukes hand as I walked over to Tommy, Mick and Vince as they watched Nikki stumble around on stage.

Nikki adjusted the mic, “Ah, that’s better. As I was saying sorry for the noise. It’s not like it was as bad as they have been….you fucked up a lot of good songs.” I cursed under my breath, glaring at him as he looked at me.

“I just…I just wanted to say a few things to the birthday girl, give it up to Vanity!” Nikki clapped for me, as everyone followed his lead.

“Man, this girl…I swear…” Nikki said, pointing at me as he had a bottle of beer in his hand.

I saw a smirk spread across his lips as he leaned into the mic, “This girl…she pretends like she’s so god damn perfect, it’s honestly such an act. You deserve an Oscar, Van.” Nikki grumbled as the smile I was starting to get faded away.

He glared at me as he continued, “She doesn’t care about anyone here. She can’t stand any of you, she never fucking did. She cares about no one but herself. She might care about you when you put your dick inside of her to keep her busy.”

My lips parted as I scoffed, ignoring the judgmental looks I was getting and the whispers among everyone.

“But man, she’s got some grade A pussy. I’ve fucked a lot of chicks all over the world. But Vanity Blackwood’s pussy is the tightest I’ve ever had.” Nikki spoke out roughly, chugging the rest of his beer as he tossed the bottle down by my feet.

I bit my lip, shaking my head at him as I felt tears starting to stream down my face. Both Tommy and Vince tried consoling me, telling me it’s just the drugs but I pushed them away.

Nikki looked over at me, “Aw, baby. Don’t cry…it’s okay. But I get it, I’m not good enough for you. Never have been and never will be, that’s why you string me along, right?” I shook my head as he chuckled darkly.

“Some CEO fuckwad would make everyone happy, including you. Can’t be with someone who will be in his grave sooner than the world knows. I’m just crashing and burning, doll.” Nikki stares at me, his eyes rolling as he shook his head.

“Why the fuck are you crying? I’m just a good fuck to you…enjoy the ride while it last Vanity. Cause I know you don’t give two shits about me, probably dealt with me for the drinks and the drugs and cause you know I fuck you better than anyone else you’ll ever meet.”

“Nikki, stop.” I cried to him, my voice breaking, but he continued his rant, “Going around the world for free just as long as you suck my cock, right?”

“Get him off the fucking stage. Now.” Greyson walked up, pulling me to him as I sobbed into his chest.

“Fuck you man, I’m not done.” I watched as Tommy and Vince try to wrestle him off the stage, but Nikki wasn’t moving.

I saw Mick throw his glass down on the grass, “Get off the fucking stage. You’ve done enough, sixx.” Mick said to him, forcefully grabbing Nikki by his arm and shoving him off.

“Get the fuck off me!!” Nikki shouted, shoving Vince away from him.

“Always gotta stop for the princess, right?” Nikki said, stumbling over to me but Greyson shoved him away.

I saw the look on Nikki’s face as he approached my brother, “Stop!!” I yelled at him, shoving him back, “Oh stop with the fucking tears, nobody fucking believes them!” Nikki growled as he gripped my arm roughly, pulling me to his chest.

“You act so fucking innocent and you’re not!! If it’s not the blow it’s the alcohol!” Nikki yelled in my face, his hot breath left me scorned.

“Let go of me!” I yelled back at him, shoving him away. He stumbled backwards, falling into a table that had gifts and my birthday cake on it, sending everything to the ground. Nikki looked at the presents, holding one up as he saw it was smashed under him. Nikki quickly glanced up at me seeing the tears and discomfort he’s caused.

“Vanity…I…babe, fuck.” He groaned, pulling himself off the table as he had icing all over him.

“I want him out.” I told Greyson as I began walking away from them. “Van, Vanity. Please wait.” Nikki chased after me, I turned around to see him stumble and bump into people. The guys quickly followed behind him.

“I want you out of my house!! I never want to see your face again!!” I screamed at him, his face winced at my words, “I…I’m sorry…I…Vanity please.” Nikki begged, reaching for my hand but I smacked his arm away from me.

“I hate you.” I scolded him, “Van, no you don’t…please, doll. Don’t kick me out.” His voice cracked, I could feel the sadness coming from him.

“I wish I never fucking met you, Nikki. Get out of my house. All of you. I’m done. This is done.” I spewed my anger out at him. For how pissed off I was, I’m very surprised with myself that I hadn’t hit him or broke something.

Nikki looked away from me, his jaw clenching as he nodded.

“Have them get their stuff, and get them out.” I told Greyson. “Parties over…it’s so fucking over.” I mumbled before going inside the house.

I was quick to get Nikki’s suitcase together and drag it out of my room. I carried it to the stairs, noticing Greyson escort the band out as Tommy and Vince tried to get him to reason. Nikki glanced up at me and when he did I threw his belongings over the railing, making it hit the floor with a loud thud. “Oh dude..” I heard Tommy speak quietly for once.

I grabbed his bass out of my room, and took it to the stairs, “Vanity.” Greyson said my name, rather as a warning as he shook his head. I exhaled as I walked down the stairs. I watched Nikki hunch over, picking up all his stuff.

I handed the bass to Mick as he took it, “One more thing.” I spoke out bitterly, unclasping the bracelet around my wrist. I fumbled with it before throwing it at Nikki’s boots.

I stormed upstairs, slamming my bedroom door so hard it split the wood. I quickly locked the door and sat against it for I don’t know how long.

*Nikki’s POV*

I fucked up. I royally fucked up. I fucked up the only good thing I’ve ever had, I mean minus the band. I fucked it up. I could feel everyone’s anger as we sat on the tour bus. We had left her house about forty minutes ago and we’re driving to Arizona for one last show, then home thank god.

I sat on the couch, clutching the bracelet, trying to control myself from locking myself away and shooting up needle after needle.

“I am sorry.” I spoke quietly.

“Shut the fuck up, Sixx. I don’t want to hear your fucking voice right now.” Mick growled, throwing down his guitar as he pulled himself out of the recliner, pouring himself a glass of vodka.

“She’ll forgive you-“ Tommy tried looking at the bright side as usual. “No she fucking won’t!!! Look at everything you have done to her! And to do this!? In front of her family and peers!?” Vince, for once was sounding like an adult.

“I fucked up and-“ “I said to shut up!!” Mick yelled at me, he always had a way to make me feel like a scared little boy.

“You even fucking told me you think you’re in love with her!! And yet you still do this shit to her!!!” Mick screamed at me, throwing the glass of vodka on the floor.

“You what?” Tommy perked up, “Dude. I fucking knew it.” He added on, slapping my arm.

“Nice one, Nikki. It’s like you don’t want to be happy.” Vince chuckled as he sipped on his beer.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore. She hates me and that’s it. It’s done. We’re done.” I closed my eyes, leaning my head back onto the couch.

“Well good, cause it’s what you fucking deserve.” Vince mumbled. I groaned as I stood up and went to my room.

“Yeah, go shoot up some more Sixx, cause that will make everything fucking great.” Tommy yelled out after me. I quietly shut the door and locked it.

I laid in the middle of the bed, clutching a pillow. Is this what heartbreak felt like? If I’m feeling like this I could only imagine how she’s feeling. Fuck, I can’t even picture it. I hope she didn’t destroy anything, just as everything was going fine between her and me, I fuck it up.

I just…it wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but it’s what the drugs do to me. I saw her with that guy and how she was laughing with him and how his hands were exploring her body, it just made me snap.

I wiped my face as I felt tears run down the corner of my eye. My gaze slowly moved to the needle that was perched up on the nightstand. I really was trying to fight the urge but Vanity’s words and tears were taking up every free space in my fucked up head.

I needed a relief, and if she wasn’t here to give it to me, then heroin it is.

Nice going, Sikki.

#the dirt #the dirt fanfic #the dirt imagine #motley crue #motley crue fanfic #moltey crue imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx imagine #douglas booth #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #douglas booth!nikki sixx imagine #fanfiction #writing #my ideas #my story #1980s #rock n roll

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

Little Tyrants, Chapter Two: Worth the Whiskey

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Vanya was four, Reginald Hargreeves visited her cell. But not to take her powers away. Just to let her know he could. Just to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her powers were a privilege he could rescind should she ever choose not to fall in line.

Years later, the old man is dead—and the last sibling Vanya wants to see has reappeared in the Academy courtyard.

This work is also available on AO3.

Prologue Chapter One

Author’s note: Sorry this chapter took so long, everyone. I’d hoped to update more frequently, but life intervened and…well, here we are. If you’d like to read the asks that inspired this story, you can find them here and here, as well as under the tags “vanya keeps her powers au” and “five returns as a kid au.”

This chapter title is adapted from Cole Swindell’s song “Ain’t Worth the Whiskey.”

***********

“You okay here?”

“Yeah.”

Luther opened his arms slightly, and Five slid to the floor. Klaus had never considered, in the sixteen years he’d been missing, just how small Five was. Not that the fact itself had eluded him—old pictures resurfaced in tabloids or narrative magazines from time to time, proving they’d all been a hell of a lot shorter back when they were still in Dad’s clutches—but it hadn’t struck him as something worth noticing when he’d stumbled into the courtyard. Now, watching him glance around in bewilderment beside a twin nearly twice his height, Klaus couldn’t think about much else.

“Where’s Mom?” Luther asked. “Thought you were gonna get her.”

“I—” The rest of Diego’s retort collapsed when he saw who was—and wasn’t—in the kitchen. “Shit. Mom!”

They’d lost Allison somewhere between the courtyard and the kitchen, when she’d announced her intent to get some towels. Luther had carried Five in, cradled in his arms lest walking worsen whatever condition led him to collapse in the courtyard. Diego jogged out of the kitchen, retracing their steps through the corridor in search of the one who could provide some guidance. Klaus stood by the sink and racked his brain for something, anything he could say.

Five wasn’t wearing his Academy uniform. Not unexpected—he’d never been fond of those starched collars and plaid sweater vests—but he’d always joked about replacing that uniform with everything from jeans and a T-shirt to a tuxedo paired with evening gloves and a billowing cape. Maybe it was the leftover high or the cognac haze clouding his thoughts, but Klaus couldn’t conjure a single reason why Five might have paired scuffed boots and a heavy jacket with sturdy jeans and a pair of aviator-style goggles around his neck.

“You, uh, you need anything?” Luther asked.

Five shrugged. To say he had always smiled before his disappearance would be a misstatement. He’d frowned. He’d grouched. He’d cried for the minute or two it took to realize he’d been seen, the second or two it took for his face to twist and for him to slink off down the hall. But there had always been a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes, a flicker within his expression. Whether harsh with fury or gentle with laughter, Klaus couldn’t recall a time when that light had gone out.

Until now.

“Klaus, could you get him some water?”

Somewhere toward the back of his mind, a flicker of irritation sparked to life. Luther had come up with the idea. Luther knew what he wanted done. Luther could get the damn water himself. But the annoyance was dim to begin with, and died with another glance at Five dripping rainwater onto the tile. Without a word, Klaus went to the cupboard and retrieved a glass.

Allison brushed past before the glass was completely full; and by the time he turned around, Five was reaching for a towel from the stack Allison carried. She plucked one and shook it out as though to dry him off herself; then, with a small and apologetic smile, she placed it in Five’s hands. Klaus set the glass on the table, fought again for something to say, gave up and snagged a towel instead.

He needed another drink.

He couldn’t carry Five up to his room or calm him with four small words. He couldn’t run a few tests and determine what had happened and what Five needed to recover, and he wasn’t the one headed off to corral the one who could chart a course for the healing process. Getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water was about the extent of Klaus’ contributions, and he’d done that already. No one would notice if he headed upstairs and went to town on the liquor cabinet. Allison might say something if he popped a pill or two right then and there, but she wouldn’t cause a scene. It would be expected from him.

The longer he watched Five sip from the glass he’d poured, the more he needed to leave. The longer he watched, the less he wanted to leave.

“Where’s Vanya?”

That was from Luther, naturally. Klaus couldn’t say when or how he’d forgotten Vanya’s feelings toward her family, but maybe the Moon erased memories. “Where do you think she is?”

“I don’t know, Klaus. That’s why I asked.”

Klaus hadn’t seen her separate from their group, wasn’t sure if she’d split off before or after Allison had gone off for towels, but the relative peace in the kitchen should have been enough to let Luther know her absence was not to be questioned. “Well, if we’re lucky, maybe she’ll just stay…wherever the hell she is. Oh! You think we could camp out down here? Roast some marshmallows, sing a couple songs? O Vanya, please stay away from us….”

Impromptu performances like that tended to earn flat looks and rolled eyes from most of his siblings, and threats from Vanya, but he’d hoped it might raise at least a small smile from Five. No dice. Five looked down into his glass, holding it in both hands, without so much as a hint of a smile or a chuckle.

Nice going. Allison didn’t say it. She didn’t need to, with the amount of impatience and contempt she crammed into that one glance. He’d messed up, said exactly the wrong thing at just the wrong time, and there was no recovering, no going back.

Of course, he’d known as much before that look of hers. No need to drive it home with the glare of death.

“Well, fine.” Klaus stepped forward, opening a cupboard. A canister of rolled oats was the first thing he saw, and so a canister of rolled oats was what he grabbed. “If you fine folks don’t appreciate good performance art like an audience with sense, I shall take my leave.”

Giving his coat the most dramatic swish he could manage, Klaus strode out the door.

*********

If liquor preference was a personality trait, then Dad’s taste was one of his few redeeming qualities.

Like most objects in the Academy, Dad’s alcohol supply was less an amassing of ingredients and more of a collection. Port and sherry shared a shelf with more varieties of red wine than Vanya cared to count, more types of white than she wanted to taste. Not that she opposed wine on principle, but the sight of so many bottles and so many shades, each promising a different flavor and composition and all the other things wine junkies raved about, brought a twinge of embarrassment when she remembered the five-gallon box she’d purchased because it was red and she’d bought white last time.

But then, nobody could tell the difference between cheap and expensive wine anyway. She wasn’t unrefined. Just honest.

Vanya turned from the wines and toward those promising a shorter path toward inebriation. A half-empty bottle of tequila and a nearly full bottle of mezcal sat a few inches from peppermint schnapps and two different types of rum. Closer to her sat scotches and bourbons nestled beside the whiskeys.

Every label bore the name of a place she knew. Scotland. Jalisco. Kentucky. Each name conjured up a different image, borrowed from a different mission with a different objective and outcome. Dad had sent her and she’d gone in, done what the situation demanded of her, and left with snatches of scenery she liked and memories she didn’t. Each city had its own personality, but there came a point when they blended into each other, leaving her uncertain whether El Paso or Tucson had the hotel with a mosaic tile entrance, or if it was Paris or Amsterdam with the houses she liked. Glances through the sort of books ordinary people kept on their coffee tables cleared a few things up, but there were better things to do than relive what only Dad would call the glory days.

Behind the Canadian whiskeys, and between those boasting an origin in Tennessee, was a single bottle announcing itself as Wyoming Whiskey in no-nonsense letters. After a moment’s study, Vanya poured herself a glass. If she was going to try and erode unwanted memories old and new, a drink from a place she’d never visited seemed the best way to start.

Footsteps approached sometime after the end of the first drink and the beginning of the second. Vanya downed the rest in a few quick swallows. If it was Diego coming to tell her off for not being there for Five, she’d need to steel herself; if it was Five himself, she’d need to clear her glass for another pour.

Klaus rounded a corner, skirt swishing about his ankles as he came to a halt. It had been some months since she’d seen him, and then out in the open and at a distance. Perhaps that was why he seemed thinner than she remembered, collarbone protruding above his bare chest, feathered cuffs dangling over too-slender wrists. He’d tucked an open canister of rolled oats into the crook of one arm; a few oats slipped from his clenched fist and fluttered to the floor. He let out a laugh when he saw her, as though she’d made a joke. As though he were happy to see her.

Vanya added twice the recommended amount to her glass.

“Well, well, well.” He let his handful of oats fall back into the canister and sauntered forward—she couldn’t tell if he was staggering or not—and set the oats on the counter. “And here I thought I was the only one breaking into Dear Old Dad’s liquor cabinet.”

Vanya sniffed. Klaus’ presence demanded she down the whole glass in one swallow, pain be damned, but she settled for a sip. “I’m not breaking into anything. It’s right out in the open.”

Klaus had a way of moving like a slinky, swaying one direction only to fold himself around a corner and past whatever obstructed his path. In one stride, maybe two, he was behind the bar, hand on a bottle of bourbon. “Amazing there’s anything left.”

“Yeah, with you around.”

Within seconds, Klaus’ glass held more bourbon than it should have. Not quite as much as hers—but if he’d had to cope with someone like him, he’d have ditched the glass and drank straight from the bottle. “Oh, right, ‘cause I’m the one who ran up here to get drunk soon as everybody was in the house.”

“And you were completely sober when I got here.”

There was that laugh again, the infuriating giggle that made her want to send a bottle of vodka crashing onto his head. “You really think I’m gonna do a family reunion without a little help?” He took a swallow of bourbon. “Figured you’d get it.”

Vanya’s fingers tightened on the glass. She wasn’t like him. This world he’d constructed in his head, where she was just a shadow of what he was—it was a fantasy. He spent his days wandering the streets or bouncing from rehab to rehab. She worked, and the money she brought in went toward her apartment, her clothes, her food. She spent her days coaching kids through basic chords, cooking and cleaning, playing in the city’s orchestra. She wouldn’t have earned first chair if she’d devoted what remained of her life to the next fix.

A high, sharp noise commanded her attention. Looking took only a second, but by the time she did, the glass had cracked beneath her fingers, webs of spindly lines spreading out and up. Another side effect of Klaus’ presence.

“I think you should leave now.”

Klaus downed half his liquor in one swallow, planting the glass firmly on the counter. A few drops came close to splashing out, but the counter remained dry. “I think you need another drink, if you’re just gonna get your panties in a twist over everything.”

He was needling her, poking her skin over and over until he found what caused the most pain. For what, she couldn't say. Perhaps he was so enamored with Five’s return that he simply could not comprehend why she hadn’t followed to the kitchen to wait on him hand and foot. Perhaps he was still angry over her last refusal to let him crash at her place. That had been years ago, but Klaus was just the sort to hold a grudge for that long.

She could lash back, with words or force. A few sharp retorts already came to mind, but they might not land the way they should. Klaus’ quest to rid himself of powers Dad had never thought to take from him had apparently robbed him of his faculties, if his incessant giggling was any indication, and there was little point in an insult that slid off like water from a tarp. The Academy had never been a noisy place, but what few sounds there were—air rushing through the vents, the creaking of old boards—already tempted her.

And Klaus remained, with no trace of fear.

“I’ve had kind of a rough day,” she said, setting the cracked glass in the sink slowly and deliberately, so as not to throw it the way she longed to.

Klaus’s mouth formed a round O of mock surprise and he clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Me too! Weird, huh? Us both having the worst day ever at the same time?”

Vanya clenched her teeth. He was like the cockroaches at a place she’d lived, one of the few complexes she was grateful to be blacklisted from. Lay out traps and they’d skirt around them. Stomp on them and they’d avoid your boot. Spray them with Raid and they’d roll onto their backs long enough, only long enough, to make you think you’d won. Long enough to make their swift return all the more infuriating. “I don’t want to break anything worse than a glass, is all I’m saying.”

“Why? Afraid the cops might come? Afraid they might send you to—” He put a hand to his mouth, covering a gasp too melodramatic to be genuine, and looked to left and right before continuing in a stage whisper. “Therapy?”

Vanya felt the cracks in her discarded glass spread and splinter before she ever heard it. She wanted to let it shatter—no, she wanted to make it shatter, send a hundred jagged shards exploding out from the sink to embed themselves in the wall, the counter, Klaus’ skin; to strike other bottles like bullets and send their contents cascading.

“You don’t understand.”

“No! I mean, Sitting on a comfy couch for a whole hour while some lady in an ugly-ass pantsuit listens to your problems?” He shook his head in mock amazement, adding more bourbon to his glass. “It’s a miracle we’re at Dad’s funeral. You should’ve just—”

He blew a raspberry, pointing his thumb to the floor.

Another crack spread through the glass, and another. He didn’t see. Didn’t know the humiliation of walking into that office, week after week. Couldn’t comprehend the misery of hearing mistakes inflated and exaggerated, balled up and thrown back in her face whenever she tried to explain herself. He couldn’t know the recurring sting of walking past her favorite coffee shop—a place that had once pulled her into an embrace of scents both earthy and sweet—knowing that the police would be called if she so much as crossed the street to reminisce from the wrong side of the window. If anyone under the Academy roof spared an ounce of sympathy for her, it should have been him. He, at least, knew what it was to have his faults paraded before police and judges and dismissed with no regard for what it was to be in his shoes.

She should have known that was too much to ask of him.

The glass was all but destroyed now; there was little point in leaving it whole. The sink would absorb most of the damage, and while a few shards would fly out, Klaus had learned to dodge. He knew what he faced if he failed to. He couldn’t call the police without risking his own skin.

Yet a part of her, a small part of her, whispered that he just might be insane enough to try.

The canister flew across the room to smack against a formation of bottles, knocking them over with a crash. Liquor spilled over the counter and onto the floor, sweeping up oats in the flow. Vanya turned on her heel, not giving Klaus the satisfaction of one last grin.

********

“That could’ve gone better.”

“Yeah, you think?” Klaus downed the rest of his bourbon and regarded the bottles still standing. The accidental cocktail Vanya had created with her little tantrum wouldn’t be tasty—especially not with oats floating in it and faint remnants of floor cleaner offering a different kind of intoxication—but all of those liquors together would get him drunk faster than anything he could mix on his own.

Well. Drunker.

Klaus didn’t sway as he straightened and headed for the tequila. He wasn’t quite to that point, though he sensed its approach.

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you try dealing with Vanya sober.” He opened the bottle, raising his voice in a mocking imitation of Vanya’s. “Oh, look at me, I wreck some coffee shop and have to not go to prison, everyone needs to be sad for me.”

“Oh, you mean like my entire life? And afterlife, so far?”

“So far?” Klaus grinned, raising both eyebrows. “What are you not telling me, Ben?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He poured a shot of tequila and tossed it down. “If there’s drunkenness after death, you really need to tell me. This could change everything.”

“You really think I’d tell you something like that?”

“Some brother you are.”

“Said the guy who left Five to come get shitfaced.”

The sting was sharp, as if Ben had slapped him across the cheek. Klaus poured another shot and downed it without breaking eye contact, but when he set the glass down he had to look away. He tried for some remark glib enough to set Ben on a different course, but nothing came to mind in time.

“Bet you can still catch up with him.”

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to Klaus, but he hadn’t allowed it to take root in his mind with this level of clarity. Go back to the kitchen, or track Five to wherever the others had brought him. Apologize for whatever it was he’d said wrong—more than one thing, probably, though he could only think of the one. See if Five wanted to go flip off Dad’s urn for a while. Let Five watch him stagger down the stairs, sway in the door, smell the alcohol on his breath. The others, Diego and Luther and Allison—they might not understand, but they expected it. They’d seen it before.

A part of him whispered that Five would see it sooner or later, that maybe he’d already extrapolated from those moments he’d caught Klaus at the bar when they were kids, those times he’d given Klaus the cover he needed to sneak out for his next fix. It didn’t matter, or wouldn’t matter. Sobriety was little more than a punchline around him, and it was only a matter of time before Five saw the joke.

He straightened, swallowed the last of the tequila in his glass, fished for a cigarette in his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as he exhaled. It wasn’t’ the first time he’d smoked in the Academy, not by far, but usually Dad or Pogo would come barreling around the corner seconds after his lighter clicked on. This time, there was only silence. Blissful, smoke-filled silence. He leaned against the island, allowing each breath to carry off more of Vanya’s lingering presence.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before the edge of the counter began digging into his back, before the floor began to press against his feet through the thin soles of his shoes, before the weight of the items in his coat reminded him of where he could be and what he could be getting. A pang of guilt accompanied the last thought, regardless of the facts. He wasn’t needed at the Academy. He’d probably sent Five into a tailspin with whatever it was he’d said. The memorial service seemed to have been forgotten for the time being; even if he were missing when it began, his absence wouldn’t be lamented or questioned too heavily. The more he considered it, the more he itched for what those items would buy him.

He’d be leaving Five again. Leaving him not in the kitchen, but there in the Academy while he was off elsewhere in the city; but Five wouldn’t be alone. Might not even notice he was gone.

“Klaus?”

Five’s voice was too soft, too uncertain, but it still gave Klaus a start and he nearly dropped his cigarette.

“Christ on a cracker,” he breathed, glancing down at the floor. Still a safe enough distance from the spilled alcohol that a lit cigarette wouldn’t send a puddle of flame racing up the cabinets, but closer than he would have liked. He sucked in a breath and turned to Five, plastering on a smile. “What’re you doing up here?”

Five didn’t answer. He’d changed into his pajamas—which were drier than what he’d been wearing, and in better shape, but Klaus could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen any of his siblings wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. In each instance, they’d been sick enough to get out of training, sick enough to remain in their rooms instead of joining the rest of the family for silent meals and Dad’s droning records. Five was still walking on his own two feet, his skin lacking the pallor it had held on those days; but Klaus didn’t recall him being so thin when he’d left.

How long had he stood just out of sight?

“Dad’s not here, is he.”

There were two answers: the tactful one, and the direct one. The tactful one was more up Allison’s alley, requiring more gentle words and roundabout phrasings than Klaus had in his arsenal. It was probably more akin to what Five needed, closer to what he’d like to hear, but Klaus had already stalled long enough.

“Died a little over a week ago.”

Five nodded slowly. If there was any surprise in his expression, Klaus couldn’t see it. “He…he probably would’ve walked out when I showed up, huh?”

And done a lot more than that, Klaus thought, but didn’t say as much. Five must have known he’d have been hauled off to one of those rooms everyone hated, held there until he’d divulged every secret he’d brought back with him, had Dad occupied the Academy. “We can go flip off his urn for a while, if you want.”

Five didn’t smile, or even meet Klaus’ gaze. He’d said the wrong thing again. Made a joke when Five needed something else, something Allison or Luther or even Diego would be better suited to offer. Something Klaus couldn’t muster, not even when it was needed. Especially not when it was needed.

“Where’s Ben?”

If Ben’s remark had been a slap, Five’s question was like a punch to the gut. He had to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t form and he couldn’t muster even an I don’t know or a Why do you ask? He could only struggle, through the fog and the emotions that one question dredged up, to say anything at all.

Five dropped his gaze, biting his lip. He didn’t sink to the floor or look for a place to sit down. He didn’t let out a cry or suck in a breath. Klaus watched him crumple all the same.

“Hey, it—” He started forward, barely remembering to put out his cigarette before Five fell into his arms.

Maybe he should have expected it. Over a decade stood between him and Ben’s death. No one would say he’d used them well, and if pressed he wouldn’t disagree; but he’d still had them. Ten years to let the dust settle and the blood dry. Ten years to accept that Ben’s clothes no longer occupied the closet, that no one would set a place for him whenever they were allowed back into the Academy. Ten years of hearing his voice, watching him roll his eyes and try in vain to block access to his stash, of being the only one to know he would never really go away. For all Five knew, Ben’s face should have been among those who greeted him upon his return.

He returned the hug awkwardly, too awkwardly, running a hand along Five’s back. Tears shook his bony frame, and Klaus wanted to kick himself for not hunting down Allison to answer that question. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“How?”

Ben no longer leaned against the bar. He had a way of doing that, of stepping around while your back was turned to show up in the last place you wanted to see him. This time, though, Klaus didn’t mind the sight of him, the look he got—or the clear instructions it carried.

“I mean, it’s not like he’s gone.”

Five pulled away, and the hope in his eyes made Klaus want to shrivel up and disappear.

Ben smiled a bit, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Five.”

“He says hi.”

*******

Vanya should have brought the whiskey along.

Her anger hadn’t quite burned away when she reached the top of the stairs, but it had calmed enough for her thoughts to turn to things other than Klaus’ exaggerated smiles and mocking words; and they turned to that bottle on the counter. She should have grabbed it before storming off—or if not that bottle specifically, then another close to it. Something strong, something she could keep all to herself. Something that would get her to the memorial service in one piece.

If her siblings still planned on holding a service.

She found her old bedroom less by intent and more by muscle memory, and it hadn’t changed much from the day she’d left. The furniture was gone, shuttled off to her first apartment and then the next; as were her clothes, which had been added to over the years. It would have been an empty room, devoid of the personality she’d lent it, but there were small signs, little memories here and there. A length of blue ribbon she’d once worn to a press briefing snaked across the floor. The green hair tie she’d thought had been lost in the move lay in one corner, grey with dust. Along the wall adjacent to her window Vanya could just make out little patches where the drywall was ever so slightly uneven, marking the places where, in retaliation for being sent to her room, she’d driven holes into her wall to spell out an obscene message. Dad had barged in before she’d finished the first word.

She ran a hand along the windowsill, catching dust on her fingertips. It wasn’t surprising that Dad’s memorial service had stalled—in the back of her mind, she’d expected Diego or Klaus to delay it somehow, though she hadn’t written off Allison as a potential culprit—but she hadn’t thought it would stall indefinitely. Yet here she was, waiting for her siblings to stop doting on Five long enough to put their dead father to rest.

Vanya looked to the wall again. For a moment she considered finishing the word, leaving it as a parting gift for whenever she was allowed to walk out of the Academy without Dad’s unread will hanging over her head. But then, it would’ve been just like Dad to turn something about willful destruction of childhood bedroom into a condition.

She closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall, seeing no one, but Five’s room stood open. Maybe someone had been there in minutes past; maybe Mom had left it open for whatever reason. Vanya couldn’t say and couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d be moving back into it soon—but then, once the memorial service was over and done with, she’d be back in her own apartment, away from that room and its occupant.

A short walk took her back down to the entryway and then the common room, but that wasn’t where the voices led her. One she recognized as Klaus, the other as Five—but the cheer in Klaus’ voice seemed more genuine now, the simmering resentment she’d caught now missing.

“So I’m just there in my book fort, minding my own business, and the librarian walks over and she’s all ‘Sir, you need to put these on a cart.’ And I’m all ‘Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just build a new one instead of putting this whole thing on a cart?’”

“Maybe she just wanted you to put the books away?”

“That’s what Ben said, but I dunno. That fort was awesome.”

Ben. Her breath caught. Asking her to name a favorite sibling was like asking her to name a favorite toothache, but some toothaches hurt less than others. Some could be almost pleasant, when they wanted to be.

And some left a different sort of pain when they went away.

“What books did you use?”

“What books did I—Five. I built a fort. Out of books. Had turrets, a moat and everything. That’s all you need to know.”

Rather than pressing Klaus for more details, Five turned his gaze to the armchair. “What’d he use, Ben? You remember?”

Klaus rolled his eyes and began listing off titles, but Vanya barely heard them past the pounding of her own heart. Ben wasn’t there—or at least, he wasn’t where Klaus could see him, and that was by design. The ghosts he alone could see, the ghosts he alone could command, were evidently far more frightening than the poisons he forced into his system and the people and laws he trampled to get them. The substances he favored were still there. His powers were gone—and here he was, playing the medium. Speaking for the dead when the dead no longer spoke to him. Using Ben as a prop to tell an asinine story about himself.

“Don’t.”

Allison’s voice was soft, but Vanya stopped in her tracks. Her sister sat on the stairs, just out of the light cast from the sitting room.

“Are you hearing this?”

Allison bowed her head for a few seconds. When she raised it, there was sorrow in her eyes—but also a glint of steel Vanya had rarely seen outside of particularly nasty missions.

“Don’t take this from him.”

“Take what? A lie?”

Allison stood, mouth tight. She took a few steps forward, but didn’t come close to bridging the gap between them.

“I don’t care what it is.” Her voice had grown softer, scarcely rising above a whisper, but no less stern for it. “You’re going to let him have this.”

A stab of fear went through her. Allison hadn’t referenced those four words, but the threat was there, carried on a tone addressing her as a child. A child who needed to be put in her place. “Or what?”

She didn’t answer, but the glare she leveled on her way into the common room was enough.

************

Chapter One

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #tua fanfic #vanya keeps her powers au #five returns as a kid au #little tyrants #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #alcoholism #implied/referenced alcohol abuse #implied/referenced drug abuse

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

To the Good Place We Go (p.2)

part two! (sorry about errors totally didn’t read over this)

credit goes to @gluupor for the idea! link to their the good place au here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

warning: aftg typical violence

part one here: http://jemejem.tumblr.com/post/182518320202/to-the-good-place-we-go

“I don’t belong here.” His voice shook. He imagined his father was looking up from the Bad Place, grinning like the mad-man he was. Neil was delivering himself into hell, because it was the right thing to do. His morals had been warped and distorted on Earth. If he was going to spend eternity suffering, he might as well make himself feel better by doing it honourably.

Also, he wanted to prove Andrew wrong. But that was besides the point.

Three-hundred and twenty-one residents, an omnipotent ethereal being and a walking Wikipedia stared at him in shock.

“Well.” Wymack clapped his hands together. “Dismissed, everyone!” He crooked a finger at Neil, and he felt his heart clambering to get out of his chest as he shuffled forward. He tried not to flinch as Wymack’s fingers brushed over his shoulder, and in less than a blink, they were standing in his office. Wymack rounded the desk and grabbed a stress ball off the desk and propping his feet up on the oaken edge, throwing it up and catching it repeatedly.

“Well?” Wymack offered him the chair. Neil sat. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t try to get in or hack the system somehow.” Neil murmured. “I’m not a mole. It’s a complete mistake.”

“Ha. A human, hacking into the universe? Very interesting. Very impossible. You humans are so strange.” He caught the ball, took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “Neil Josten, you’ve been chosen as a candidate for MPP. The Middle Place Project. Nicky!”

“Yes?” Nicky had blooped into existence next to him.

“Strike Neil Josten off the Test One list.” Wymack’s smile was small but warm.

“That was a test?” Neil said testily. Wymack held out his hands.

“Honesty is an integral part of being a good person. You, out of everyone, are the most practised liar. Eight years on the run, twenty-two identities—I’m surprised you aren’t having an identity crisis.”

“Same.” Neil muttered. In all honesty, he was glad to have died as Neil Josten. Neil Abram Josten. Out of everyone he’d been, Neil was his favourite.

“If you can come forward, in front of the entire neighbourhood nonetheless, then I’m sure the rest will follow.” He cleared his throat. “The Middle Place Project is proving that humans are capable of change, whether it be improving, or failing. There’s a few in the midst of the neighbourhood that we’re watching to see whether or not you can improve from your characteristic behaviours on earth.”

“Will we get into the Good Place if you do?”

“Maybe in five-thousand years.” Wymack promised. “If I can manage to convince my superiors of your genuine progress.”

“Right.” Neil drawled. “Five-thousand years. No biggie.”

He glared at Neil with intense scrutiny, but somehow, Neil was unafraid of this ethereal being. He was giving Neil a chance, wasn’t he?

“Well?” Wymack grouched. “What are you still doing here?”

“What am I supposed to—“

“Figure it out, Josten. Just don’t tell anyone it’s a test. Got it?”

He pursed his lips. “Cool. Yeah. Got it.”

Wymack watched him, unimpressed, as he shuffled towards the door. Neil shot Wymack a quick grimace as he slipped out.

He blew his bangs out of his face with relief. Andrew stood in the waiting room, arms crossed and eyes barely slits. “So?”

“I’m alive.” He twinkled his fingers. “See?”

“Actually,” Nicky piped up.

“Shut up, Nicky.” They both ground out.

“Test forty-seven!” Wymack clapped his hands. “We’re finally getting into the good stuff. Ethical responsibility!”

Neil threw a troubled glance at Andrew, who, of course, stared impassively back. Ethics?

“What’s sitting in a classroom gonna do about our ethics.” Seth grunted.

Neil had decided he disliked Seth intensely. It was something about the constant fits of anger, irrational judgements and toxic intolerance to everything that wasn’t Allison’s tits or Adderall.

“Well, actually,” Kevin chided. Wymack snapped his fingers, effectively muting Kevin. The young man tried to scream in horror, but slumped in his chair with defeat.

“We’re going to be learning about some of your moral philosophisers and interpret what they had to say about what’s right and wrong. How about some basic questions, hm? Just to gage where each of you at.”

This wasn’t going to go well.

It was fine, wasn’t it? They had, what, five-thousand years?

“These first few should be simple.” Wymack picked a clipboard off his desk. “Let’s see. Neil?”

He looked up at the towering, omnipotent being. “What?”

“Is murder good or bad?”

Neil shrugged. “Depends.”

Wymack looked a little dismayed. “Andrew?”

Andrew jerked his thumb at Neil. “What he said. For example, Seth is a perfect example of why murder isn’t always bad.”

Neil grinned at him, and liked the way a spark of amusement glinted in his eye. Seth was probably clambering out of his chair to haul himself at Andrew in a fit of rage, but Neil wasn’t watching. He simply appreciated the sunlit hair that shone like spun gold, and the perfect understanding shared between them.

Their benevolent guardian simply dragged a hand over his face as his classroom dissolved into chaos.

“Good morning, son.”

Neil opened his eyes slowly. He was sleeping in a double bed, his double bed, in his cottage. In the afterlife. He was in the Middle Place. His name was Neil Josten. He had died at the age of 19. He played striker. His soulmate was Andrew Minyard.

Sitting upright, he saw Andrew standing at the opposite end of his bed. There was a young man standing behind him with a vicious glean to his eye; He had his chin hooked over Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew was gagged, hands cuffed behind him. His feet were bare: His skin shone with sweat as his muscles convulsed. There were bruises blossoming under his skin: He’d put up a serious fight. How was he bruising? Could you be hurt in the afterlife?

“I said, good morning.”

Slowly, Neil craned his neck around. All six-feet of his father were craned over the edge of his bed, one fist denting the mattress and the other wrapped around Neil’s neck. He was looking at a mirror image, the eyes and the hair and the sadistic smile. Thick fingers tightened around Neil’s windpipe.

“Young Drake Spear was promoted to help me. It’s time to collect our rewards for such excellent work down in the Bad Place.” His grin was that of a wolfs.

“Fitting.” Neil wheezed out. Honestly, he was terrified. The thought of eternity trapped with the unending methods of his father was enough to wish that there was a way for Neil to die and end up in a further layer of the afterlife.

His father only laughed. The last thing he remembered noticing was Andrew closing his eyes. For a moment, it looked as though an angel was praying.

Dan crouched down, back to the wall. In her hand was a magnetic clamp, ready for Bad Nicky. It’d render him useless, and they couldn’t let Nathan Wesninski, Drake Spear or Riko Moriyama have access to him. They were powerful enough as it was.

Kevin was bone-white beside her. It had to have been years since he saw Riko Moriyama. Neil and Andrew weren’t the only ones facing their old demons today.

The man who’d stabbed Dan in the back had been boiling in a pit of acid. The demon in charge of the tank flashed a grin at her. “Want to join him?”

Aaron’s mother had leapt out at him from a shuffling line of prisoners, grabbing for fists of his hair and screaming. She hadn’t been able to tell which twin it was, mixing up the names as she spasmed with hysteria. Aaron had clutched his arms to his stomach and hurried away.

With Dan and Aaron’s close calls, Renee knew it was every possibility that her old gang leader had heard the commotion the group had caused and would want to connect with the girl who ended his life in a knife fight. Renee was clutching her rosary, praying as every demon brushed by her.

God, was Dan exhausted. Matt, Aaron and Seth had all been lured with narcotics. Then Matt got into a fight with a security guard, and Seth backed him up. Then someone insulted Allison as she was trying to flirt her way through a checkpoint, and she’d clawed their eyes out with her nails, but gotten bust up at a result.

So yeah. Not a great time for any of them.

“This is it, kid.” Wymack warned. “We’ve got a window of thirty seconds to get them out of there.”

Dan nodded.

A young man left the room, meaning Bad Nicky was watching over Andrew and Neil. Dan rolled out from her hiding position and bolted at the black-clad man standing in front of her. She whacked the cuffs on, stunning the look of contempt right out of those big brown eyes. He stumbled, turning around to look at her.

“Oh my god,” Allison cackled. “Bad Nicky is a straight, fuck-boy version of Nicky?”

It was true. He was wearing a flat-cap, backwards, and a big grey hoodie underneath a leather jacket. His jeans were torn and he wore stupid, stereotypical boots. He had a tattoo of a girl with her tongue between her fingers on his neck, and a gold-capped tooth.

“Hell.” He slurred. “You got me. Ha-aahh.”

Nicky was staring at himself with horror. “Disgusting.”

“Andrew,” Kevin faltered. “Where’s Neil?”

Andrew was sitting up, both hands chained to the bedposts behind him. He was blindfolded, his clothes in tatters and bloodied. Aaron rushed forward, dragging Nicky with him. The chains were cut and Dan watched Aaron murmur something to Andrew as he tore his blindfold off.

“We have to go.” Andrew said, fierce. Dan had never seen him so angered. “I know where Neil is.”

Matt grabbed bad Nicky and hauled him over his shoulder. The group filed out, lead by Andrew, Aaron surprisingly right on his heels. Despite the obvious abuse, he was legging it down the hallway. With the chaos of the Bad Place, the rag-tag team and their badges had looked like nothing more that a bunch of demons. With a Bad Nicky incapacitated and over Matt’s shoulder, they were running out of time. Andrew somehow had perfectly memorised the route to Neil’s cell.

They were almost there, when Andrew staggered to a holt. The young man they’d seen leaving the room earlier was standing in front of them. Aaron acted too quickly, brandishing a knife and jumping the guy. The knife buried itself into the man’s chest. Dan gasped.

“I won’t let him touch you again.” Aaron promised his twin. “Go.”

Andrew said nothing, instead shoving his way through a metal door on the left just metres past.

The demons present whirled upon their entrance. Dan felt her blood boil as she saw Neil in a chair, head hung. He couldn’t even lift his head to see who’d appeared.

“Wesninski, these humans are mine.” Wymack growled. “Give them back. They’re official property of the Middle Place.”

“Oh, oops.” The man—who did look scarily similar to Neil—grinned at the younger boy. Riko Moriyama. “It’s almost as though demons have to follow rules. Incredible.”

Riko had no eyes for anyone but Kevin. Kevin, who stood with his chin up and broad shoulders as he stared the other boy down.

“I’ll oversee your retirement myself, you rotten sack of sadistic fuckery.” Wymack snarled, stepping forward with Nicky at one side and Andrew at the other. “Back down. Now.”

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin.” Riko clucked his tongue. “It’s so nice to see you. Such a shame that we’re opposed like this, brother.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Kevin rasped. “I’m going to go to the Good Place.”

“Why bother?” Riko leered. “When you can have so much more power, down here? They recruit the worst, you know. I was just human too. Now look at me.” He lifted his hand, and Neil spasmed, head flung back and mouth open in an aborted scream.

That was the precise moment that everything went to shit — as if everything hadn’t already gone to shit. Wymack launched at Wesninski: Andrew was hurling towards Riko, and the rest were attempting to shut the door on the copious amounts of demonic spawn trying to get a better look.

Dan was desperately trying to get someone’s attention but the only one who listened to her was Renee. That was ultimately futile, because Allison was thrown aside and Renee, obviously lost her shit. Even the faithful had their breaking points.

Kevin was desperately clawing for Neil to break him free: Andrew was brawling with Riko with a desperation that had Riko shaken, Wesninski was waving a knife in Wymack’s general direction, Matt was thrown over a demon’s shoulder and causing a ruckus, Seth was yelling and Allison was wiping furious tears off her face, snatching a knife off Renee.

Wesninski threw the knife. Riko threw himself at Neil. The door was thrown open.

“ENOUGH.” Nicky screamed, standing in the middle of the room.

Everyone froze.

“I’ve been through a lot, today!” Nicky’s voice was so shrill that Dan would have winced if she weren’t completely stiff. “I’ve hauled almost a dozen of you shits through portals, this way and that way. I’ve been running faster than I’ve ever had to run in my life, because I don’t run, I teleport! My husband’s disappeared because he wasn’t compatible with the Bad Place, I’m not meant to be this emotionally distraught because I’m just a machine, and now this?” He gasped. “I. Am. Flabbergasted. It’s my favourite human word, and that’s what I am right now. Not only have you—“ He pointed to Wesninski. “Defied basic laws by having a child with a human, you’ve been recruiting humans! Gracious, do you know the worst part of this entire shit-fuckery?” His voice raised into a scream once more. “I have to live out the rest of my eternal existence knowing that Bad Nicky is a straight fuck-boy!”

“That’s the worst part?” Neil said, weakly, his voice raw with screaming. “Well, gee, Nicky. I missed you too.”

“So,” Nicky continued. “I’m going to unfreeze my friends. Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S. And we’re going to leave. And am going to report your demonic asses to the new Lord Ichirou of the underworld, and I hope you live in agony for eternity. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” He snapped his fingers and Dan almost collapsed, if it weren’t for Matt holding her up. “We’re leaving.”

Andrew hauled Neil to his feet, clutching the taller boy to his side in a fit of possessiveness.

Dan stood by the door as she counted her crew out of Neil’s cell, watching Nicky carve an angry path through the mob of frozen demons. She glanced over her shoulder to see Kevin glaring at Riko.

“Kevin,” Dan started.

The man slapped Riko so hard that Riko’s head shifted, even with Nicky’s freeze power. Or whatever the fuck that was.

“You deserve so much worse than hell.” He said, calmly, before marching out the door. Dan followed him, squeezed his shoulder. His look was not as confident as he’d been momentarily ago, but he offered her a shaky smile.

“Let’s go home.” Wymack said, tiredly slinging an arm around Nicky’s shoulders.

They all smiled faintly, and with a nod, they were on their way home.

“How’d you do in the Trolley exam?”

Andrew glared at the sun. It was still peering over the horizon, the endless rolling hills, trying in vain to grasp a few more minutes of illumination. It turned the sky into a brilliant palette of purples and blues.

He wanted to shove Neil off the roof of this stupid house, but he probably wouldn’t even break a bone. He had been sleeping in Neil’s grossly cramped cottage for a few months, where there was only one room and Andrew had been donated the couch. They’d razed Andrew’s old house to the ground a few weeks back. That had been great fun.

The reason he wanted to shove Neil off was murky, but he knew part of it was because Neil provided him a tether: To stay in the Middle Place, to try and achieve Good Place status with everyone else, to stop himself from marching down and delivering himself into greedy hands. It didn’t matter if Drake and Wesninski and Riko were gone. Hell would still suck.

He hated it.

But he also couldn’t cut the rope.

“I ran you over. It was very satisfying.”

They corner of Neil’s mouth quirked. Andrew hated that too. He hated Neil’s stupid red curls and brilliantly blue eyes. They were sparkling in the sunset, each freckle and scar glossed with a decadent shade of gold. “What was it between?”

“You and nothing. I think I’m a bit behind in class.”

Again, the quirk of the mouth.

Truthfully, the choice had been between Neil and Aaron. Because they were all already dead and this was just a theory, Andrew knew it didn’t matter. But still, he’d found himself torn. Usually apathetic and uninterested, he was placed in the simulation and felt a strange thrumming in his. ear. His heartbeat. Quickening.

Aaron was his brother. He had promised Aaron protection. Aaron had gotten them both killed. Aaron ignored his conditions and went out with Katelyn, and lied about it. Aaron was his brother. Andrew died protecting Aaron from their mother. Aaron had stabbed Drake for him. Aaron was his brother.

But Neil was his other. Neil listened. Neil smiled. Neil was honest with Andrew. Neil was relaxed with Andrew. Neil looked at Andrew in a way that made Andrew felt as though he was coming undone, unravelling at the seams. Neil could see Andrew. Neil understood Andrew.

He’d only had a split second left to decide.

He’d chosen Neil over Aaron.

“Yes or no?”

Neil narrowed his eyes. “To what?”

“A kiss.”

The word sounded so delicate out of Andrew’s mouth. He felt delicate, exposed and raw to Neil’s understanding gaze. All this studying of ethics and morality and those stupid philosophers was getting to Andrew’s head. The question yes or no was balanced on a scale, the decision between forever and never ultimately resting on Neil’s final answer. Andrew fucking hoped it was a yes.

Death made one’s apathetic resolve melt like ice sometimes.

Gosh, he was a miserable forking sap. It was disgusting.

Neil smiled, so hesitant that it was almost unnoticeable. But Andrew saw it. Maybe Andrew understood Neil, too. “Yes.”

Fork the Good Place. Andrew was already there.

once again, credit goes to @gluupor /// link to their the good place au here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782301

hope u enjoyed!

#the good place #neil josten #andrew minyard #the good place au #andreil #the foxes #all for the game #aftg #david wymack #dan wilds #the foxhole court #part two #jem writes

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sweetcatminteareblog · 5 years

Text

5 Favourite Lines Tag

Rules: Do you ever write a line that just feels so right? Pick five of your favourite lines you’ve written and share them. They can be recent or years old, doesn’t matter. Then tag five people.

Thanks for the tag @kaatiba! Your lines were really emotional :o

This is from Bitter Chocolate and Night Rain (A scene in A Hare’s Worth)

He’d probably never be able to tell her properly how much her words meant to him. Somehow, he felt like apologising, saying he was sorry she ever had to treat him so kindly. It was a strange thing when your gratitude is so much it begs forgiveness.

Another scene from A Hare’s Worth

She tried to smile. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter. Before he could respond, a quiet plink sounded and the room was immediately devoid of light. The bowl cracked against the sink as Bridget hissed out a curse. Bubbly hands ran through curly hair. A suffocating silence fell over them.

A Hare’s Worth again

Xavier spent the whole night crying. He cried for what he had lost. He cried for what should have been. He cried for what he was going to lose. He cried because there was nothing else left to do. It was the ugly sob of a crumpled heart creating oceans in his eyes.

This is the opening line from a zombie apocalypse story I started for fun and forgot about

Honestly, I can’t complain about the end of the world. Sure it was tragic and a lot of people died. So many. Wow. Like, I think about all the people I knew, and it begs the question; how did I survive? Darwin’s probably rolling in his grave. Anyway, other than the death of the world as we know it and the end of the internet (rest in peace buddy), the apocalypse happened at a rather opportune time for me.

A scene from Echo’s Tail

“Aww, don’t be too harsh on her, kids will be kids.” Avian offered a handshake. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep a good eye on her for you.”

Storm glared frostbite into his soul, ears slick with contempt. “You’re not looking after her.”

Tags -> @snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @inexorableblob, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, and @ragethegemini

#tagged #CatMint responds #5 favourite lines tag #my story #writing #writblr #Echo's Tail #A Hare's Worth #Character mentions #Bridget #Xavier #Avian #Storm

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michaelmyersmalewife · 5 years

Text

LEVIATHAN | 13. The Longest Night | MASTERLIST

words: 12k+

A/N: lemme just say beforehand that im so sorry for writing this absolute behemoth of a chapter so get yourself comfy and make a snack bc this is a doozy

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Madison was paralyzed, trapped in Ghidorah's gaze.

He smelled like fried wires and the sky just before a thunderstorm. Something like batteries gathered in her throat. His entire presence was suffocating. She wondered how Elena could handle it.

It couldn't end here. Not now, not when she had come so far. Their only chance at survival was to get rid of the ORCA - for good. If she held onto the machine, the dragon would crush her - all of them. Maybe if they gave it up to him, they'd have a chance to escape. But there was also a chance it would cause the rest of the titans to fall back under his spell once more, but it was a chance she felt she was forced to take. The hope that Monarch had made good use of the time they'd try to buy them was the only thing reassuring her.

"Elena," she said, not breaking eye contact with the monster. "Throw it."

Elena hadn't moved. Looking over at her, she looked paralyzed, eyes wide with terror and glued directly at Ghidorah. She wasn't sure if it was due to the rain or fear, but she was shaking. Madison shook her arm.

"Snap out of it, you need to get rid of the ORCA!"

Elena could barely feel the girl's attempts at rousing her from her daze. All the woman could see was a sprawling yellow void, suspended among nothing but golden clouds. Ghidorah hovered before her, lightning crackling around his body as all heads zeroed in on her.

We tried not to hold it against you, -

- but you really are a nuisance.

You were a waste of a Speaker

You think I asked to be connected to a giant egomaniac?

Oh, cry me a river.

This would be much easier for us if you stopped fighting.

It's not like there's anyone that can help you

What's the point of all this anyway? What could you possibly gain from any of this?

A tiny thing like you couldn't understand

Try me

Not seeing any response from Elena, Madison's face scrunched together in frustration, tugging the ORCA from her hands. That seemed to snap her out of it, but at that same moment, the crackling of Ghidorah's internal light sparked above them, and immediately she tossed it as far as she could. The ORCA landed in a pile of rubble right in front of his massive talons. One of his heads broke their fixed gaze, looking down and considering it for a moment with an irritated glare before bringing his foot down. The ORCA stopped its hum.

She hoped that was good enough, that that would sate his anger.

But it didn't. Signal or no signal, he knew Elena. He knew them all now, their faces burned into his collective memory. Hell, he probably knew who she and the Regulator were since Antarctica. If Madison's connection to Godzilla wasn't enough for him to deal with, Elena had pestered him one time too many. All three heads focused on their forms, lazily moving forward on serpentine necks like they were in no rush to destroy them. He was studying them, trying to figure out how they had done it, how such tiny creatures could have caused the collapse of his whole kingdom.

Madison wanted to run, but there was nowhere else for her to go. This was it. The lightning rippled up his body, splitting into three different pathways as it traveled up his necks and he began opening his mouths. The crackling energy was nearly spilling through his teeth.

Bracing for the end, she felt a hand grasp hers.

It was Elena. And for the first time being around the three-headed dragon - rain whipping around her, thunder and lightning splitting the sky open - she did not look afraid. Ghidorah didn't seem too happy about that, and each of his heads shrieked like three banshees.

But standing with Elena, Godzilla's presence somewhere in the back of her mind, Madison did not feel small. Something gathered in her heart, something defiant - primal. And staring straight into the Golden Demise's eyes, she screamed with all the fury of a titan.

Madison knew that that was likely her last action as a not-pile-of-ashes, and she didn't feel a shred of regret over it. Hands curling into fists, she braced for the end. Until suddenly, from behind them, a beam of blue energy knocked Ghidorah back and through the stadium wall, the force sending him skidding across the street and into a building.

They all stood there for a moment, staring at the fallen monster, confused and awestruck of the power that had sent him tumbling. Then the ground began to shake beneath their feet, rhythmic footsteps coming ever closer.

And then there was the roar.

Am I late? Godzilla's thoughts rippled through her mind.

Madison turned around, eyes blinking through the rain and hair that now plastered her face. She grinned, feeling a sudden, savage glee.

Go kick his ass, she thought.

Don't need to tell me twice, little titan, he replied.

And better yet, he wasn't alone. As he waded through the harbor and past the buildings around him, he was accompanied by a cavalry of jets and ships whizzing past him in droves. Only they weren't shooting at him. It almost looked like he was leading them, like they had all come together for a common purpose: fighting the Golden Demise.

She felt something tug at her heart, something exciting. It was the best part of her mother's vision come to life, humans and titans working together.

Only - out of pure bad luck - they had been caught right in the middle of the oncoming chaos. A battleground straight out of some ancient apocalypse. And the only thing that filled her mind was a single thought.

Run.

_____

The Argo, guided by an onslaught of Ospreys, followed Godzilla as he stomped his way through Boston, flattening cars and crashing through buildings as if they were nothing but cardboard boxes.

Jodie peered out of the large window and at the city, or what she could see of it. Most of it was blanketed in a dense fog that spilled over the tops of buildings and through the streets. Toward the front of the control room, she saw Graham pull Serizawa's notebook out of her pocket, flipping it open. She had already lost count of how many times the doctor had run through that same motion during the flight. She couldn't blame her. Looking at the old and worn notebook, it felt like Serizawa was with them too. She wished with all her heart that he had lived to see this, the vindication of his vision: Godzilla and humanity coming together to fight against a common enemy, trying to make things right. To know that his sacrifice had not been in vain.

And thanks to Mark's discovery, they had managed to track the ORCA's signal to Fenway Park. Emma must have been using its loudspeakers to boost the signal. Evidently, it had worked. Maybe a little too well, as it had brought Ghidorah straight to Boston. The signal had cut out just moments ago, and Jodie could only think of the worst. Ghidorah must have reached the stadium. Were Emma and Madison still there? Or did they have the common sense to cut it off and get the hell out of there before it was too late? But that also begged another question. Were the extremists with them?

But they were just the start of her worries. Through the seething clouds and lightning, Godzilla and Ghidorah were nothing but black silhouettes against a background of destruction. Ghidorah stood his ground as Godzilla charged toward him, roaring so loudly windows on nearby buildings shattered from its intensity. Ghidorah responded, all three of his heads trilling with anger as they smoothly galloped toward the lizard, quickly gaining speed. This was about to get brutal, and if San Francisco had been of any indication, not much of Boston was likely to survive it.

"Okay, we've zeroed in on the last ping from the ORCA. Fenway park, dead ahead. We'll lay cover fire to keep Ghidorah distracted." he turned to Jodie. "Good luck out there."

She nodded. Jodie, Mark and the rest of G-Team headed to the Argo's hangar for one of the few remaining Ospreys. Graham closed the notebook.

This is it, Jodie thought. The last stand. If Ghidorah won, this time they were done for sure. There weren't enough ships and aircraft in the world that could challenge him. And to make matters worse, seconds after the ORCA signal cut out, the titans they still had tracking information on began moving again. Moving toward Boston. They had to put Ghidorah down before his reinforcements arrived. Just five years ago, Godzilla had managed to take down two MUTOs, but he had nearly died doing so. But up against twelve, thirteen, maybe more titans all at once?

His chances were looking slim.

Godzilla was already closing in on his ancient rival, and what remained of their aircraft were about to engage, and the ships were readying their long-range canons. And Godzilla, he seemed..brighter. In every sense of the word. The pulses from his scutes grew more radiant every second, shining up and down in a similar manner to his intimidation display. And his skin was shining in the moonlight too. He looked more powerful than the last time she had seen him. A lot more powerful.

"Well he's looking lively." she commented.

"Is it just me," Sam asked. "Or has he been working out?"

"You kidding me?" Stanton replied. "Serizawa got that lizard juiced."

"Damn right." Foster said.

"Colonel," one of the bridge officers said. "All squadrons are locked on target."

Foster, Chen and Graham exchanged glances, and then turned their collective gazes out at Ghidorah. Jodie knew exactly how they felt. It was hard to get her to hate any creature, but she felt nothing but contempt for that three-headed monstrosity. Her mind flashed back to the sea full of wreckage, the hundreds - thousands - of people that had already died trying to stop this unholy thing.

With an austere gaze, Graham stared at the oncoming battle. "For Serizawa."

A hundred trails of fire scorched across the sky.

_____

Nearly every missile that had been dropped was a direct hit.

Ghidorah shrieked in irritation, shielding himself from the oncoming fire with one of his wings. Elena's neck strained from looking up at the sky, rain still pelting her face and gluing long strands of hair across her face. At least a dozen jets were whizzing right above them, dropping all they had on the golden dragon right in front of them.

Each of his three heads broke through the smoke and fog, zeroing in on the mountainous lizard as they charged at each other. As the titans collided, the resulting shock wave of their massive bodies slamming together shook the ground.

Taking Madison's hand and pulling at the Regulator's shoulder, they ran.

That quiet moment in the stadium's booth, looking out the window into an abandoned city, seemed an eternity ago. Boston had turned into a warzone, a battle between the gods.

Everything around her was burning - bricks and steel rained from the sky. Even running as fast as she could, they still hadn't managed to get out of the combat zone. The titans were just too big. She felt like an insect scrambling to get out from underfoot of a couple of wrestlers. For every hundred feet they covered, the titans could cover that distance in a single step. She was afraid that they would, but they didn't even notice her anymore, but that didn't matter. The missiles and jets didn't know they were there either, all of those rounds they were shooting at Ghidorah were also raining down all around her.

One of the dragon's tails sliced through a skyscraper as he stumbled backward, ripping through its steel-beam skeleton as if it were paper, spraying a curtain of debris down at them. They desperately weaved their way through it, Madison shrieking as a piece of rubble connected with her arm. It was quickly becoming harder to dodge it all - frantically falling, rolling, springing back to their feet as the earth beneath them shook with each footstep from the titans not too far away.

Every direction around them seemed closed off by either the titans themselves or mountains of ruin, and the fight was about to roll right over them. Again.

Suddenly, there was a roar from something that wasn't a giant monster. Elena's gaze was drawn to the sky. A giant aircraft broke through the clouds, and for a moment she thought it was the Controller, until she saw that it was a flat craft rather than spherical, complete with a Monarch logo emblazoned on its side. She chuckled in disbelief. As the craft shot by, it spattered Ghidorah with missiles, driving him away from them.

That seemed like a good thing to her at first, but she could feel a panic setting in, and looking down at the girl trembling in her arms she could tell that it had taken over her as well. They had made it out of too many near misses, and luck couldn't keep them safe for long. At any second they could be under falling chunks of building, or a missile that missed its mark. Not even the Speaker's Connection could keep them from accidentally getting squashed like a bug.

Madison could feel herself starting to hyperventilate, despite trying to control her breathing. She was shivering, the cold from the rain and the adrenaline running through her veins taking hold of the most primitive part of her mind. Run. Hide. Keep running. Don't stop moving until you're out of the crossfire. But there was no safe zone, not for miles. As she let herself be pushed and pulled by Elena and the Regulator, she kept remembering Andrew, how he had looked when they found him. They needed to get somewhere safe. Fast.

Fighting to keep the air from running out of her lungs, she tugged on Elena's arm.

"O-Over - Over here." she struggled to push the words out of her mouth, but hopefully the woman had been able to hear her.

Together, the trio ran on.

_____

Mere yards outside of the Osprey, Godzilla wrestled with the three-headed monster.

Jodie watched as Ghidorah crackled with energy, charging up for another shot of yellow lightning. Countless missiles speared past them, their warheads opening on the dragon like flowers. He flinched back, Godzilla slamming into him head-on once again. Ghidorah was getting pummeled, wings splaying out to keep his balance. Their roars mixed together in one loud cry as Godzilla took one of his heads in his claws, ruthlessly tugging it down and slamming it into the ground below them.

"Hang on!" the pilot yelled as she weaved past Ghidorah's flailing tails, banking hard to avoid the flaming remains of missiles and fallen aircraft.

Blood rushed to Jodie's head, and every organ in her body did somersaults. The Osprey was almost on its side, and the window she had found herself pressed against was facing the flaming city below. She swallowed a scream as Griffin got them clear from the titan and righted the vessel, bringing them back around to a view of the fight as Godzilla impaled Ghidorah's tails with his dorsal spines. All three heads shrieked in pain. Griffin circled the Osprey around the brawl, dropping toward what was left of the stadium.

"Whoa," Jodie observed, catching her breath. "Dude's lit up like a Christmas tree."

Through the smoke, Mark followed her gaze. Godzilla was pulsing with a fiery orange light, the air around him distorting with heat waves. It was faint, and every now and then it would be drained out by his regular blue light, but something about the colorful display put a jolt of dread in her heart. That was definitely new. To Jodie's knowledge, nothing like this had ever been observed.

Jodie turned on the handheld radio at her side.

"Stanton, are you guys seeing this?"

"Oh we're seeing it," Stanton said. "But definitely not liking it."

There was a pause. Jodie could almost see him going over the readings on his screen. Suddenly, the Osprey's speakers crackled and Stanton's voice sounded through the whole craft.

"Godzilla's radiation levels are going through the roof. We've got about twelve minutes before he goes thermonuclear."

"What do you mean?" Jodie called over the noise outside.

The Osprey shook as thunder and lightning sounded around them.

"I'm sayin' in about twelve minutes it's gonna be a bad day to be a Red Sox fan."

Coleman's voice took over the radio. "Okay guys, you need to find the ORCA, grab Madison and get the hell out of there. Whatever Serizawa did to Godzilla worked a little too well, because he's about to explode like an atom bomb."

As if their time wasn't already limited enough. Mark looked around the Osprey with furrowed brows. Outside, the Boston skyline was burning, and the two titans were still going at it as hard as their bodies could allow. Jodie took in a deep breath.

"Roger that," Barnes answered. "Prepare for landing."

Mark moved to the front of the Osprey, Jodie following. The red glow around them made everything feel even more hellish than it already was, what with Ghidorah and Godzilla's roars bellowing just outside like heralds of doom. Her heart was hammering in her chest as the craft dropped down. Behind her, Martinez crossed himself, Barnes closing his eyes in a silent prayer. The others - men and women she didn't even know the names of - were steeling themselves as they prepared to run out in a prehistoric battleground. Preparing to die, if that's what was coming. And looking around at the chaos surrounding them, it seemed a fair guess that some or all of them would. Jodie felt a lump gather in her throat.

"You didn't have to come with me, y'know." Mark said.

"And what, miss out on all the fun?" she said sardonically.

Truthfully, she knew that she could've stayed aboard the Argo without a problem. And a part of her wanted to go back, even if it was too late for second thoughts. But after all this time, she had survived the impossible. Maybe she could share some of that luck with the people around her, as ridiculous as that sounded. Jodie had always been just a little superstitious.

In that moment the Osprey bumped down onto the ruined field at Fenway Park, and one by one the soldiers marched out. But Ghidorah's golden lightning struck, and the first two out the door were incinerated, their lives cut short in less than a heartbeat. Jodie swallowed a shriek. It was beyond horrifying, but the others ahead of her piled out anyway, Jodie were right behind them. Mark leaped out of the Osprey, nearly tripping over the rubble that covered the field.

Jodie had only been to Boston once or twice, but even now Fenway Park was near unrecognizable. Much of the stadium was torn to shreds, walls caving in and benches hanging on by steel threads. Next to her, Mark was staring at what was most likely the broadcasting booth, or at least where it should have been. Emma and Madison must've found a way to patch the ORCA into its sound system, but it seemed that Ghidorah had figured that out too.

The solider's flashlights barely cut through the fog and floating debris, but even then she still saw one of Ghidorah's talons land right ahead of her with an earth-shaking thud. Her gaze trailed upward, and right next to them Godzilla was swatting away the heads that lurched forward, jaws persistently snapping at the lizard. With a sneer, Godzilla spun around, tail roughly slamming into Ghidorah's side as the dragon stumbled off balance. Yet another building went down with them.

Mark and Jodie both called out Madison and Emma's names, but the sound barely carried over the fight just yards away. Behind them, one of Ghidorah's heads became trapped underneath Godzilla's clawed foot, jaws snapping desperately as his windpipe was being crushed with every second the lizard stood firm.

Jodie stopped to cough something nasty, the smoke in the air stinging her lungs. There had been nothing resembling an answer thus far, only G-Team moving around them, searching the debris. Other than themselves, Jodie didn't see anyone else - living or dead.

As they fanned their search, Godzilla and Ghidorah's fight was just getting started. Jagged streaks of lightning surged all around them, along with a flaming meteor storm of fallen aircraft. The smell of burning jet fuel filled the air.

They're not here, she thought. What if they were never here? Emma might've come by herself, maybe she left the kid somewhere safe.

But they couldn't stop looking now. If they weren't here, where else could they look? Their options were slim, and this was the best - the only lead they had. There was a chance they had made it to a nearby bunker but Monarch had already sent a squad to scope that out.

Her train of thought stopped when she suddenly felt an odd, mechanical crunch under her shoes. She looked down, eyes widening when she saw what it was.

The ORCA lay inches beyond the edge of the field of debris, crushed into the contours of a giant foot. And it wasn't looking too hot.

"Over here!" she shouted from across the stadium.

Mark and one of the soldiers rushed over to his side, fearing the worst. But as they got closer, just ahead of them was an explosion, sending Mark flying to the ground. Jodie pulled the ORCA from the rubble, running toward them the rest of the way. Mark looked confused as she approached them, head tilting just slightly when he saw the jumbled piece of something in her arms.

"It's not your daughter, but.." Jodie said, voice trailing off as she handed the machine over to Mark.

He turned it over in his hands, studying it. Attached to its side by a frayed wire was what looked like a headpiece. And while the whole thing was pretty banged up and singed, it wasn't completely destroyed.

Jodie's eyes narrowed as she looked at it, questioning. If Emma had hooked it up to the stadium and taken off, what was it doing down here? If anything, it should've been in the smoking hole where the broadcast booth was. Something wasn't adding up, and it made her uneasy.

But there was no time to think further when the ground rumbled again, smoke suddenly surging up from beneath them. Godzilla and Ghidorah were above them, still locked in battle. The lizard swatted the dragon's incessant necks as they tried gaining any purchase on the titan. With a push, Ghidorah stumbled back, but then the middle head reared backward, springing forth like a coiled snake and sinking his jaws into Godzilla's neck. As Godzilla was about to rip the center head from his throat, the other two heads at his side sprung forward as well. The right head followed, pinning Godzilla's left shoulder, and then the left head, pinning his right arm. The titan let out of a groan of pain as Ghidorah pushed down with all his strength.

"We gotta go!" Barnes yelled, suddenly coming up from behind them as he pushed them away from the brawl.

The titans were stumbling their way, fast.

Jodie felt one of the soldiers grab her, hustling her toward the Osprey. But before they could get any more than a few feet, one of Ghidorah's talons stomped down on the aircraft. It exploded, sending them all reeling back and adding to the mass of flames that already surrounded them. Jodie felt a piece of debris cut across her cheek.

Squinting, trying to push herself up from the ground, she saw Ghidorah hover a few meters above the ground, wings flapping slowly as Godzilla continued to struggle, jaws twisted open in a continuous cry of pain. Then the dragon slammed him back to the ground, pushing him forward into another street, the pavement below them shooting up like crumbs. The titan's cries stopped, Godzilla rearing up and blasting Ghidorah with his atomic breath, knocking the dragon right back toward them.

So much for luck, she thought.

But in that moment, Ghidorah skidded to a stop, the center head drawing away from the fire that poured over his chest and toward the sky. The right head followed his gaze. And then the left.

There was a light in the sky, breaking through the thick cover of clouds. It looked like a sun, but amidst the chaos Jodie heard a familiar song.

Bursting down from above was an unmistakable blue radiance, followed by broad oval-shaped wings that swept back. A pair of amber eye markings glowed at its ends, and for a brief moment Jodie was reminded of Godzilla's eyes.

With a sonic boom of melodious cries, Mothra dove into Ghidorah like a hawk diving down on a snake. As she swung past the dragon, webbing jetted from her jaws, stopping Ghidorah mid-fall and sticking all three of his heads to a skyscraper.

As Mothra gathered speed, what sounded like a teasing laugh chittered from her mandibles as she watched Ghidorah's right head break free. He glared at her with hatred in his eyes as he tried desperately to tear through the webbing that still trapped his struggling brothers. But suddenly, he stopped, seeing Godzilla's reflection rapidly approaching through the building's glass windows. He turned around and trilled in defiance as Godzilla plowed into him, knocking them both clean through the building. Godzilla looked down at the fallen dragon with a reptilian smirk, cheekily huffing out a hot puff of hair. Mothra joined him, swooping back in for the finishing blow.

Ghidorah trilled, not in defeat, but something just as desperate. He was calling for something.

Pulling her wings close together as she dove, she reared up her pointed limbs, preparing to attack. But before she could get any closer, a low roar came out of seemingly nowhere - it was Rodan, bursting from the clouds as a trail of fire sprinkled from the tips of his wings. Mothra cried out in shock, having no time to counter the surprise jump. Like some ancient, vengeful god, he speared straight for her, abruptly tearing her from her flight path. Half-molten wings folded back, he struck her like a meteor, wrapping her in the furnace of his wings. She shrilled in agony as the soft down on her body caught fire. They were a tangle of limbs before Mothra tore at him with her claws, the two of them soaring into buildings. With a push, she broke free, dodging Rodan's beak as he snapped at her.

Glancing back at Godzilla, still trying to keep Ghidorah on the ground, Mothra steeled herself. Once again, she slammed into Rodan, the two spiraling downward. Ghidorah was already a handful, and she had to keep the fiery bird distracted, whatever it took.

Finally, Jodie, Mark and the G-Team were alone on the field. Or what was left of them. Still reeling from the sudden spike in action, Jodie took a head count. Besides Mark, there wasn't much left of G-Team besides Barnes, Martinez and Griffin. And Griffin looked hurt. The rest of the team was just gone without a trace.

And with the Osprey gone, she didn't have a lot of hope that they would fare any better. Flames and steam jetted from the ground, as if the rain of debris wasn't enough. Barnes and Martinez helped Griffin to her feet with gritted teeth, eyes wrenched shut in pain. They had no choice but to walk. But where? The stadium was an inferno with them in the middle, columns of fire licking at the sky. Any direction they went would end with them in torches, but they had to do something. Fast. Maybe there was a weak point in the wall of fire, they could run through it. But Griffin's leg..

But then, out of nowhere, something burst from through the other side of the flames.

It was a banged up jeep that had definitely seen better days, and at the wheel was Emma Russell.

"Get in!" she yelled.

No one moved. Jodie and the others exchanged suspicious glances. She didn't blame them. As much as she wanted to trust her, to believe that she had a change of heart, she was the one that caused all this. Just as Mark was about to open his mouth to say something in response until Mothra and Rodan - whos limbs were still locked together as they rolled through the air - knocked a jet out of the sky. It crashed directly behind them, the resulting explosion sending a hail of debris their way.

"GET IN!" she repeated.

That definitely ended their hesitation in an instant, as all of them jumbled into the car, Mark taking the passenger's seat with the ORCA still in his hand. Jodie folded herself into the trunk as the remnants of G-Team packed together in the back seat. It was an uncomfortable fit, but now wasn't the time to be picky.

In the muffled shelter the car provided, Jodie felt her heart hammering in her ears. She was still unsure that this was all happening, and not the last hallucination of someone currently dying in the rubble. But dream or reality, they still had a mission to carry out.

"Where's Madison?" Mark asked.

"I don't know, I thought she was there!" Emma replied. Jodie's heart sunk.

Above them, a chunk of aircraft crashed into a building, sending another wave of debris hurtling their way. Emma swerved sharply to avoid it, the side of Jodie's head roughly connecting with the back of the car. She grit her teeth, rubbing away the dull pain. That was gonna bruise.

"Well, she's not there!" Mark yelled.

Emma swerved again, avoiding a chunk of building blocking more than half of the road. Griffin held in a scream as her injured leg hit the back of the driver's seat.

"Jesus, take it easy!" Barnes shouted as he tried to put as much pressure on the bleeding wound as he could.

"Here -" Jodie unbuckled the thin belt from her pants, shoving it into Martinez's hands. With a silent nod of thanks, he wrapped it around her leg, fashioning a makeshift tourniquet.

"Look out!" Mark shouted.

In that same moment, Mothra and Rodan came barreling between the buildings that framed the street, knocking a helicopter out of the air as it spun out of control, exploding on the ground. Emma took a sharp turn, wheels skidding over a sidewalk.

"I hope you're as good at finding her as you are losing her." Mark continued.

"I didn't lose her - she ran away!"

"Gee, I wonder why -"

"Oh, don't even start."

"Don't start? You tried to kill me!"

As they continued bickering, Jodie exhaled, pushing the still damp curls away from her face in frustration.

"Can't blame the kid, if I had these two for parents I'd run away from home too." she said to herself.

Emma slammed on the breaks.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

Jodie bristled.

"She said, if I had the two of you for parents I'd run away from home too!" Barnes shouted. "And she's right." he muttered.

Peeking over the backseat, Jodie saw Emma turn to Mark, a look of revelation growing on their faces.

"Home." they both said at once.

Emma stepped on the gas.

_____

Madison couldn't stop crying.

With every step she took, hand wrenched around Elena's, her panic threatened to strangle off her composure. While Mothra's entrance had caused a wave of relief to wash over her, they had both seldom spoken to her during the fight. She could feel that they didn't want her to worry, but that was just the problem.

She could feel them.

Their worry, their relief, their anger, their hurt - Madison could feel it all coursing through her mind. And it was too much.

She had felt brave when she left the Controller's ship, and she'd felt brave when she brought Ghidorah to Fenway. Determination ran through her blood when Godzilla breached ashore, beginning the battle to end all battles. But now it was all too much. Too much death, anger, fear, betrayal. Too many titans.

Nothing lasts, she thought, as her shoes slapped against the puddles filling the pavement, her heart thudding loud in her ears. Nothing. Not mom and dad, not Andrew. Not me. Not Boston. The world is falling apart.

Not all is lost young Spe- , Mothra spoke before being attacked from above by Rodan once more.

Madison continued to sob.

Boston had always been her happy place, the quiet point in her memory untouched by titans. Where she and her family played bocce on the Common, making up their own rules as they went along. Where her favorite climbing tree had been in her backyard, pretending she was in the middle of an isolated jungle. Even the sushi place around the corner where Andrew always wanted to go to, where he tricked her into eating wasabi by telling her it was green frosting. The zoo, the museums, the boats on the harbor, the library where she had checked out her first book. Boston was where everything had been good.

But that place only existed in her memory now. And looking back on it, the damage had begun when they returned from San Francisco. After the funeral, the fights between her parents started. And even after her father left, it was still her home, a place that they could all come back to. But now, as she and the others fled along Beacon Street, everything around her was being torn down.

She paused. Beacon Street.

Elena skidded to a stop, and for the first time since running from the stadium she let go of her hand. The Regulator doubled back to them after having ran ahead of them.

"Why are we stopping?" Elena called over the chaos.

Madison panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. Miraculously, in the midst of the hellish destruction all around her, her old house was still there. That same little townhouse where she had spent the majority of her short life, just on the edge of the Common. If she could just reach it, despite everything, maybe they'd be okay.

"Home," she sputtered through tired lungs. "It's home."

Walking closer, they all shouted when they heard Ghidorah's shrill cry from behind them. Glancing quickly, she saw him pounce from above on top of Godzilla, a flash of blue travelling up his spine.

Don't stop running, the titan reminded her.

I'll be okay, she repeated in her mind. We'll all be okay.

As they finally reached the steps, Madison shrieked as something huge crashed behind them just yards away. An inferno with something writhing within it - wings, claws, insectile legs. It wasn't Godzilla or Ghidorah. Mothra was dragged across the ground with a flurry of embers flying up around her as she chittered in pain.

This isn't like you, Mothra said. She sounded faint, distant. As though the statement wasn't directed towards her.

Madison couldn't watch anymore. She couldn't stand to see more destruction. More death.

Elena ushered her inside, feeling the singe of flames licking at her back. Once all of them were inside, she slammed the door shut. Madison found that she couldn't move any further, all the strength draining from her legs. Madison slid down to the floor as the house began to shake.

"Madison?" Elena's voice sounded so far away.

She covered her ears, drawing her knees up to her elbows as she began to feel herself hyperventilate.

C'mon kid, don't lose your strength, Godzilla's voice echoed at the back of her mind.

But all she could hear were the titan's cries all melding together in a scream that could shatter the heavens. Madison screamed with them.

She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders.

"Hey - Hey, stay with me!"

Who was she kidding, this place was no safer than anywhere else. It was nothing more than a straw house surrounded by very big wolves. Across the room, old family photos rattled on their shelves. That family in those pictures - like her memories of Boston - only existed in her memory.

Madison could feel her vision start to black out around the edges, the only thing filling her sight were blue and yellow flashing lights filtering from the windows around her.

_____

Elena gathered Madison in her arms.

"Madison - chingada madre - if you can hear me you have to wake up!"

She didn't respond, instead, a thin trail of blood leaked from her nose. This wasn't good.

With the titans all around them, she remembered the girl mentioning hearing a voice - one that wasn't Godzilla - speaking to her back on the ship. If she was still connected to both all at once, her mind could collapse from the strain. And she wouldn't let that happen, not to someone so young.

Speed-walking toward the Regulator, she motioned to follow her. Without question, she trailed after them.

Elena weaved her way through the house, passing by a wall of family photos. Seeing a younger, happier Madison, she pressed her lips together in a thin line.

"What are you doing?" the Regulator finally spoke up.

"She's stuck." Elena said. "I don't know how she managed to stay like this for so long but she's connected herself to two different titans. Simultaneously."

Finally reaching what she was looking for, she kicked open the door to the bathroom with her leg. The trio poured in as Elena set the girl down into the tub, climbing in after her and she folded her legs close to her body.

"But what about Ghidorah?"

Elena paused, thoughts running through her mind before coming to a determined conclusion. "I have to try."

The Regulator said nothing, only nodding sharply before folding her arms. "I'd say don't do anything stupid, but it's a bit late for that now, is it?"

Elena smiled sadly, letting out a chuff of a chuckle. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

_____

Jodie watched from the back of the car as Godzilla slammed Ghidorah through another building. Between their missiles and a supercharged Godzilla, and Ghidorah not being able to heal as fast as he was being wounded, it looked like they were winning. The dragon looked like he was trying to fight free from Godzilla's wrath and escape again, trying to find some break in the onslaught for him to fly away. But Godzilla stayed one step ahead of him.

Silently, Jodie cheered the big lizard on.

So far, their losses were unthinkable. The fleet, all those pilots, Serizawa - all sacrificed themselves to bring them to this. A single moment that would decide the fate of humanity.

Sure there were other titans out there, but with Godzilla in charge instead of that golden maniac, if things didn't get better, maybe they would at least not get worse.

But Jodie's thoughts were interrupted when just a few streets away, Mothra and Rodan were still battling it out. Locked together in a death spiral, the winged titans crashed into a bridge. It crumpled on impact like cardboard, and fire splashed all around them, setting everything it touched ablaze.

Oh no, Jodie thought, flinching. Mothra had definitely been ready for a fight, but that had to hurt.

But then she sprang up, finding purchase on Rodan's back and slashed her claws deep into him. The firebird screeched, leaping into the air and slamming his wings down so that both of them careened through another skyscraper and vanished from her line of sight. Flames exploded from inside the building and began to rapidly hail from above. Emma dodged as much as she could, but Jodie could still hear it hammering against the roof of the car.

Behind them, Godzilla continued beating Ghidorah. He seemed to be doing alright even without Mothra's assistance. As he slammed his tail into his side once again, it sent the dragon reeling into an already crumbling building. Ghidorah flapped his wings frantically, managing to pull himself away before Godzilla snapped his jaws shut on a wing, twisting his head like a crocodile as he sent the dragon back to the ground. The resulting shock wave carried smoke and debris for a mile or two, and the car Jodie had folded herself into rattled from the impact.

Come on, finish the bastard off, big guy, she thought frantically.

Godzilla seemed to have the same thought, roaring out a beam of blue fire against the dragon's back. Ghidorah shrieked in agony. All the while, the dull orange pulsing grew brighter and brighter, mixing with his signature blue glow. As Godzilla's brilliance shone through the smoke, Ghidorah's own golden light had dimmed to a sickly intermittent yellow. He almost looked a little pathetic, flailing against the lizard with nowhere to go.

As Godzilla continued hammering his powerful shoulders against the dragon, Ghidorah was just trying to escape, not even trying to fire a beam of lightning his way. Suddenly, with a hiss, Ghidorah's right head sneered before snaking out, struggling away from his tormenter. For a second Jodie thought that he was trying to separate himself from his body, striking out on his own. And maybe he could. If the dragon could regrow an entire head, then who knew what was possible.

But it quickly became evident to Jodie that that wasn't the dragon's intention.

There was no way to warn Godzilla as Ghidorah's right head zeroed in on a sputtering power plant, showering sparks down onto the street. His maw gaping wide, he bit down on the wires. Godzilla let out a puzzled rumble.

Despite all of the damage, most of Boston and its suburbs still had power. But now, every light around them and as far as her eyes could see strobed, going dark, lighting back up for a brief second, and then dimming again as the power grid struggled to handle the sudden massive drain on the system. Jodie's eyes widened in shock.

Ghidorah blazed back to a full charge, and something like the smell of batteries filled the air. Rising to his full height, wings and heads outspread, his eldritch light began to build in his throats. Then, golden lightning gathered around him and blasted from all three heads. The bolts went wild, branching into the sky as they went from three concentrated beams of energy to a thousand fractal streams of lightning, creating a web of destruction across the sky. Even though they were on the ground, Jodie could smell the burnt air around them.

As the hundreds of branching bolts spread through the sky, jagging through and around the aircraft still somehow intact, the chain reaction continued even after Ghidorah had already subsided, leaping to every possible object in the air. As the energy arced through the sky, pilots were electrocuted and engines were fried, burning down into the city below. Dozens of aircraft were gone in seconds.

There was a flash of gold in front of the car, but at least they were spared of being struck. Jodie took slow, deliberate breaths as she tried to get her pulse to ease up. Toward the front of the car, she could hear a cacophony of curses.

Even Godzilla was knocked from his feet, letting out a cry of shock and pain as he was hurled through the harbor and into a shipyard, stopping himself with a clawed arm that had dug deep into a skyscraper.

Jodie could feel the hair standing on end as she saw the titan catch his breath, looking as tired as she felt. A pang of empathy struck her as she saw a streak smoke off of the side of his face. Though he seemed mostly intact, a long band of raw skin streaked across his left eye.

Get up, Godzilla, she thought. Come on, you can't quit now.

As if hearing her words, Godzilla clambered back to his feet, almost seeming to sigh as he balanced himself on the remains of buildings next to him. Ghidorah remained standing at his full height, wings outstretched as his heads snapped at Godzilla, taunting him. The worst and largest of gashes across his chest from the lizard was already starting to close up, the holes that had been burned through his wings stitching together. The dragon seemed to celebrate his victorious comeback with another earth-shattering trill, stretching out his wings and taking to the air. He was headed right toward where Godzilla stood, still winded from the electrocution.

The radio still at Jodie's side crackled. She grabbed it, desperately trying to get the connection to hold.

"Are you guys alright up there?" she shouted.

"Wouldn't speak too soon if I were you." Stanton replied. "But you guys definitely won't be if you stay down there for long - Godzilla's radiation's reaching critical mass," he warned. "Six minutes 'till he blows!"

Before the feed on the radio cut off, Jodie could hear Foster's frantic voice. "Order all remaining craft to retre -"

That's if there's any left to retreat, she thought gravely. She had lost count of all the fallen a while ago. Turning off the radio, she leaned over the back seat.

"Shit, you guys catch that?" she yelled to the front of the car.

"Kinda wish I didn't." Barnes replied.

As Godzilla struggled to catch his second wind, Mothra didn't seem to be faring any better.

Locked in midair, she and Rodan tore at each other viciously as they bowled through the city, smashing through buildings and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

The car suddenly came to a stop as Mothra was thrown into the building directly in front of them. Her back hit it hard, and with a pained chitter she stayed there for a moment, stunned. And like a flaming arrow, Rodan appeared shortly afterward, pinning her to the building with his wings as his talons sunk deep into its steel foundations. Mothra was badly burned, and she was desperately flailing against the flying reptile's grasp to no avail. Like a ravenous vulture, Rodan began tearing into her wings with his beak. She swiped at his face with her smaller forelimbs, and suddenly Rodan broke off the attack, flying off.

But not far. He was building his speed, and with a strong flap of his wings he dove. Mothra climbed to the top of the skyscraper, weakly trying to move herself out of the way. But Rodan was far faster. Smashing into her once more, he snapped at her head. Mothra braced against the building, trying her best to squirm out of the way. Again and again, he tried but to no avail. Until, finally, he seemed to find his aim - until he suddenly froze in place, a frail screech spilling from his beak.

Groaning in agony, he glanced down, looking at the stinger lodged in his shoulder. He reared back, trying to fight free of Mothra's grasp but he couldn't. Her stinger was buried deep, all the way up to her thorax.

They both hung there for a moment, Mothra's eyes seeming to search Rodan's for something - if that were even possible. But then his thrashing weakened, and his flames dimmed. Retracting her stinger, the open wound glowed like cooling lava as the flying reptile slipped away. He fell, vanishing into the smoke he'd ignited with an agonizing screech. As he landed to the ground with a thud, lifting the car a foot into the air for a brief moment, his eyes rolled back. He was still breathing, but he wasn't about to rejoin the fight anytime soon.

Back ahead of them, Jodie saw Mothra clinging to the toppled building, trembling as her bioluminescence started to fade. She took a weak step, trying to push herself back into the air only to slip. She let out a frail cry. She sounded like she was in pain, like she was afraid. Instead of taking to the air, she sat there, gathering what little strength she had left. She had defeated Rodan, but it didn't look like she had much longer herself.

After what felt like an eternity, the jeep roared up Beacon Street, swerving around the burning carcasses of aircraft and piles of buildings. Through the chaos, Jodie caught occasional glimpses of places that had survived the fight. A small corner store was untouched, and a coffee shop was somehow still recognizable, even though the fire caused by Rodan and Mothra's fight would likely soon consume it just like the trees that had now become torches.

"It's just up ahead!" Mark called.

Through the smoke, he and Emma searched for their old home. Finally, she slammed on the breaks, Jodie having to brace herself before she slammed against the back seat again. Looking out the window, all relief that Jodie had drained from her body.

What was probably a house in the recent past had now collapsed into a smoking pile of rubble. Off in the distance, the white noise of titans fighting, planes crashing, and ships sinking made her ears ring as she exited the car with the others. If the kid had really been in there..she stopped her mind from going any farther.

"Madison!" Mark shouted, leaping from the car and diving straight into the ruins of his old home, tossing aside bricks and smoldering planks.

"Maddie!" Emma joined him, a ragged desperation evident in every movement in her body.

Jodie and the rest of G-Team filed out into the ruins, calling after the lost child as they pushed aside the wreckage. Jodie hands began to sting, coughing as sweat and smoke stung every inch of her body. A weird, acrid scent drifted on the breeze, and off in the distance something exploded.

Suddenly, like a cicada bursting from the ground after its long sleep, a pale arm sprouted from underneath a pile of rubble.

There was a weak coughing and what sounded like a voice calling for help. The arm limply tried to push the wall of debris away but not finding the strength to do so. Mark called after Emma as everyone converged on the spot. Lifting away the broken off piece of a wall, they uncovered a body alright.

But it wasn't Madison.

I thought they evacuated the city, Jodie thought in confusion, staring at the blonde woman that struggled to stand. Emma helped her up, roughly grabbing her arm.

"Where are they?" she said, anger evident in her voice.

They?

Coughing, the blonde woman pointed behind her. It was a broken bathtub, and beneath the pile of rubble that covered it was a small, pallid hand. On the count of three, they all lifted the wall from the tub's rim. Jodie's arms ached from the strain, but eventually they tossed it to the side.

Within the tub was Madison and another strange woman - though her name alluded her, she recognized her as the same one from the footage in Antarctica. They were folded together, and they both weren't moving.

Neither of them reacted as they were pulled from the tub, their limbs swinging limp as they dragged them out and lay flat on the ground. Their skin was pale and cold to the touch. Jodie glanced up, and for the briefest of moments she saw a look of raw despair painted on Mark and Emma's faces.

"Are they breathing?" Emma whimpered.

Mark cradled Madison in his arms, brushing her hair from her face. "Don't go," he whispered. "Please don't go."

Emma collapsed at his side, clutching the child's hand between her own.

The blonde woman staggered to the ground, taking the dark-haired one that had been found in the tub into her arms. She framed her face.

"Fight it, Elena." she whispered with conviction. "You're stronger than this. Fight him."

_____

Elena woke.

She was in the headspace, the same one she shared with Ghidorah. Bruised yellow clouds curled around her feet as she tread through the storm in her mind. A thick bolt of lightning flash just a few feet ahead of her.

If you haven't noticed already,

We're a bit busy at the moment.

We aren't really in need of insects scrambling at our feet

Or do you just like us that much?

I'm not here for you

Then do us a favor and get crushed under some rubble

There was another flash of lightning, and this time Elena was knocked off of her feet, tumbling through a cloud. Ghidorah became nothing more than a black silhouette as she was pushed farther away from the dragon. She stopped herself, arms aching as she tried to push herself back on her feet. Her hands clenched into fists.

All you do, her voice trembled, but she didn't care. Is take. And take. And take. But do you even want it?

Ghidorah paused, his middle head snaking down toward her.

Excuse us?

You think you're some god, Elena stood back up, firmly planting her feet on the nonexistent ground beneath her. But you're just acting like a greedy brat

The clouds began to kick up, swirling into something that wanted to be a storm. Thunder shook the headspace as Ghidorah's heads all came within mere yards of where she stood, surrounding her in a circle of bared teeth.

We have bled countless worlds dry.

We have been here long before your kind was even a concept in the universe's mind.

And we'll be here long after

I almost feel sorry for you, Elena stepped closer to Ghidorah. Outstretching a hand and placing it on the tip of his snout, she took a deep breath.

You're just an animal, Ghidorah. And you'll die like one

Before the dragon had a chance to respond, the headspace began to collapse all around them. The last thing she heard before being sent back to the pitch black void was Ghidorah's trilling roar.

It felt weird, being all by herself. But she couldn't allow that to continue for another second. She had a girl to find.

_____

Madison woke.

Remembering the fear, the tumult that still raged outside, how everything was coming undone right before her eyes, how everything sort of shut off and faded to black. She sucked in a breath, but she found that she could not breathe.

She was still aware, there just wasn't anything to see, feel, or hear. It was like she was underwater, in the dark, all of her senses turned inward. The headspace.

Madison wondered for a moment if she was dead. She tried to move but her limbs just weren't there. Her panic had faded, but now it began to set in once again. What happened to her? If this was the headspace could Elena be here too? Was she even still okay? And where was the Regulator? Were they all dead?

She tried to shout for help, but found that she didn't have a voice either. She tried sending out a wave of thought, but found that it didn't travel far enough.

Maybe this was it. In her terror to escape the fight, she hadn't been able to see the big picture, unable to sort out who was winning. She flashed back to when they had entered the Common, back to Mothra and Rodan - the giant insect's beautiful, delicate-looking wings caught between the sharp hook of Rodan's beak, both engulfed in flame. Maybe Madison had lead them all to their demise.

She tried again to wiggle her arms and legs, but still nothing happened. It was as if she was suspended in midair. She wondered if she was even in her body anymore. Elena mentioned about bad things happening to those that stayed in the headspace for too long. And in that moment Madison had realized that she had been connected to Mothra and Godzilla when she blacked out. She messed up. Bad.

She wanted to cry. Mom's probably wondering where I am, she thought. Did she even make it to Fenway?

In that moment, the void all around her grew just a little lighter.

A faint blue illumination appeared, warm and familiar. It was just a spot at first, but then it began to expand, like she was nearing the end of a tunnel. Maybe she really was dying.

But then the glow took on a form as it grew nearer, and like that time on the roof of the stadium, other shapes began to form around her. Familiar shapes. She knew this place. The sounds of a rainforest began to fill her ears as the void opened up into a monochromatic blue-green forest, complete with birdsong and mist.

Madison found herself back in Yunnan. Everything was there - the containment facility's control room, the bas-reliefs on the temple walls - only it was all illuminated by the same teal light that emanated from Mothra. Madison found that she could move again, and as she walked through its familiar halls. And in the heart of the temple, where she and her mother had been taken from their relatively routine lives, was Mothra. But this time she was no longer just an oversized larva, it was her in her imago form. All slender limbs and downy fuzz complete with brilliant markings on gossamer wings. She was the most beautiful thing Madison had ever seen.

Like before, she felt her connection to the titan. And like before, she reached out to touch her. Only this time, she let her in.

As her fingers brushed against her soft down, Mothra's wings unfolded, splaying out before her. All of her fear was gone now, and for the first time in a long time, she felt at peace. The titan chittered a strange, lovely song. Although there were no words, Madison could understand. It felt as if she was telling her that everything would be alright. Feeling Mothra's heartbeat beneath her hand, for a moment, it harmonized with her own.

As her gaze trailed upward, she noticed something off about the titan. Upon closer inspection, Mothra looked hurt, her wings singed with holes burned through its tips. Madison's brows furrowed with worry.

Mothra..your wings, she thought. Are you gonna be okay?

The titan laughed wistfully. I think I should be asking you that question, young Speaker. But I'm alright, just a little tired is all

Something about that sent a shiver of dread down her spine. You can still get out of here, before Ghidorah -

It's not over yet, she interrupted. Godzilla..he is strong, but he needs me in ways you may not understand

I wish I could help you, she said through a silent sob. You don't deserve to die

I won't die, Speaker, Mothra lifted her chin with her smaller forelimbs. For creatures like me, that's just how it is. We're born, we live, and we die, repeating the cycle. This isn't my first time, you know

Mothra withdrew her claw. But if you stay here with me, you just might

...I don't understand

I've already helped you as much as I can, but if you're here when I...Mothra considered her words for a moment. This is something I was born to do, and you were not

It's not fair

I'm sure to something like you, it wouldn't be

In a heartbeat, Mothra's light began to fade, the titan's shape beginning to drift apart. Madison tried desperately to hold onto the vision, but found that it only continued to come apart.

But don't feel sad for me, young Speaker. Our connection will always exist, and you will live, but now there is something important I have to do. Or else none of us will

As the titan's shape began to unravel into a million strands of silk, carried off by the nonexistent wind, Mothra was gone, and so was her light.

Don't go, not yet -!

We'll meet again, Speaker. I believe that

In an instant the headspace reverted back to its blank state, the all-encompassing void. Stretching out endlessly all around her in utter silence.

Mothra? Madison called out, feeling the connection beginning to fade. Mothra?!

Silence.

Though she could move again, she didn't see the point. Madison was alone. There was no sign of Mothra or Elena. And there definitely was no sign of her mother. And unlike last time, Mothra hadn't thrown her out like Godzilla had. But she couldn't blame her. Even in the headspace Madison could feel that the titan had grown weak.

Madison curled into herself.

She didn't ask for any of this, didn't ask to be thrown into a world of monsters, to have these strange powers awakened without having any say - no matter how whimsical her mother had made it sound. She didn't hate the titans, even after this she didn't think she ever could. They were just animals after all. But in that moment Madison wished she could go back to that time in Boston, when she was only 6 years old with her brother and her parents. When everything was simple, when she was happy.

And now she was stuck in her own head with no way out.

Madison sniffled to herself, not hearing the muffled shout far in the back of her mind.

But the second time the muffled sound echoed, she did hear it. She couldn't make out what it was specifically, but it kept getting closer. And closer. And closer still until she could clearly hear a person's voice calling out her name.

Elena.

Madison didn't have enough time to register what was happening before her eyes when the woman all but tackled her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. It was so surreal that she found herself frozen in place. Elena pulled away.

Are you alright? Are you hurt?

Y-Yeah. I think I'm fine, but how are you -?

I..I had to clear something up first. But it wasn't hard to find you

Elena placed a hand on her shoulder.

Now we have to wake up

In that same moment, Madison saw a new, harsher light. It wasn't like Mothra's warm, comforting light. Or Godzilla's strong, blue light. And along with this new vision, she heard familiar voices murmuring their names. And crying. She closed her hand and felt her fingers move. Her real ones. Taking a deep breath, smoky air filled her lungs.

Madison coughed as she sprung forward, lungs stinging from the burning air that surrounded her. Not too far away, she heard Elena take in a deep gasp.

And Mom and dad were there, both of them hugging her as they sobbed over her.

Maybe I did die, she thought. This can't be real.

But her body said otherwise. Every inch of it ached, but whatever Mothra had done seemed to work. Although she was nowhere near back to 100%, she felt just a little better.

"Mom?" she spoke with an audible rasp. "Dad?"

Through the rain that pelted her face, she felt her father pull her into a hug so strong she could barely move. Her mother joined him, wrapping her arms around them both. They said nothing, as all they could do was hold each other while the world raged in the background.

Andrew was gone, and Boston would soon be too. But sitting in the ruins of her old house as fire rained around them, she felt that they were home enough.

But before they could have the chance to release each other, Godzilla's roar bellowed not too far away. And she found that everyone else was staring off into the distance, so Madison wrenched her gaze from her parents to look at the source of the sound as well. She wished she hadn't.

Ghidorah was killing Godzilla.

She didn't understand, couldn't wrap her mind around the sudden switch in circumstances. They had been winning, right? Was this what Mothra was talking about?

As the dots connected within her mind, Madison found herself quickly becoming consumed by fear.

Madison watched helplessly as Ghidorah stalked toward the titan, who looked to be propping himself with a collapsed building. The scutes on his back glowed with a weak blue light that was hardly noticeable above the burning skyline. Godzilla didn't have the chance to get out of the way before Ghidorah pushed himself into the air, springing onto the lizard talons-first like a bird of prey.

The dragon's claws dug into Godzilla's neck, and as his arms weakly grabbed at Ghidorah's legs, he was pushed back with ease.

Ghidorah's tails wrapped around his body, crushing what life remained from him. Madison flinched as Godzilla's dorsal spines cracked from the stress. And then the dragon's wings started to beat, stronger, harder until - impossibly - the two began to ascend. It was slow at first, but the more he flapped his wings the more momentum he built as the titans rose hundreds of feet in the air.

No, Madison thought. No no no no no.

She felt the world fall apart from beneath her feet. Everything was starting to go away again. She couldn't even feel her parent's arms around her. All she could hear was the beat of Ghidorah's wings and Godzilla's cries of agony.

No you too. Not you.

One of the dragon's necks wrapped around Godzilla's, coiling like a boa constrictor. Godzilla struggled to breathe, uselessly clawing at the head until his cries died out with a pathetic, high-pitched whine. His body slackened, head lolling to the side, his arm falling away limply. Ghidorah continued to rise.

Wake up, Godzilla! Wake up!

There was no response.

They had risen so high she could hardly see them anymore. If Ghidorah was from space like the Regulator had said, had he left the atmosphere? Was he going to leave the titan in its vast expanse to die?

Madison soon got her answer, and she felt her stomach drop to the floor.

Mercilessly, Ghidorah's claws unhinged themselves from their grasp, and Godzilla slipped away.

Like an angel cast from the heavens, he fell. And as he fell, he began to burn, and as the flames surrounded him he hardly resembled the titan that she knew. He looked like a meteor plunging to earth. Godzilla's roar was lost over the sound of his impact, and Madison could only stand there, slack-jawed. Nobody around her made a sound or moved an inch.

The titan struck the ground like a bomb, a plume of smoke and debris flying into the air. And when the dust settled, Madison saw him lying motionless in the crater his body had carved into Boston.

Get up, get up, please get up, she sent out her thoughts in waves, hoping they would reach him.

The response was far away, and it was hardly audible - so far away from the powerful voice she had grown used to. But it was him.

I'm sorry. I just gotta rest my eyes for a little while

You can't, you'll die!

Godzilla chuckled weakly. But before he could respond, Ghidorah landed in front of him, bolts of lightning accenting his arrival. He rose above the fallen titan, his electrical charge building, preparing to end their duel.

This couldn't be it. Everyone that had died, everything that had led up to this moment, it couldn't have been all for nothing. With Godzilla dead and the ORCA destroyed, what chances did they have? Not even Elena could control him, and with nothing to keep Ghidorah in check, he would remake the world as he saw fit. And there was nothing any of them could do but watch as the dragon's charge increased, the bottled lightning of a hundred storms building in their throats. Ghidorah's fury was spilling from his mouths, and soon enough he would no longer be able to keep it in.

But like Ghidorah, Madison had been so focused on Godzilla, that she hadn't noticed the small, sharp claw rising from behind the titan's back.

Godzilla seemed to notice it too, a low pained rumble sounding from his throat as he feebly turned his head to watch the torn and battered Mothra pull herself onto him.

But you just got back, she heard Godzilla whisper.

She could barely stand, but with all the strength she could muster, she stood tall, smoke emanating off of her burning wings as she chittered at Ghidorah. No matter how hard she tried, Madison couldn't understand what she was saying. But her actions had painted a glimmer of an idea in her mind.

Ghidorah hissed, tails rattling as Mothra spread her wings out like a shield, her fading blue light bathing Godzilla in a faint glow.

With one strong push and a defiant screech, she launched herself at the dragon. She could hardly get airborne, and she didn't get far. The lightning in Ghidorah's mouths burst forth, striking through and around her.

With a bright flash of yellow and blue light, Mothra vanished. All that remained was a cloud of glowing particles that refracted every color of the rainbow. Like snow in the moonlight, they began to fall gently upon Godzilla, his body pulsing with a faint orange light.

Godzilla let out a mournful groan, letting his head fall back to the ground.

Madison screamed, suddenly feeling nauseous as she collapsed in her father's arms. A few of the people around her couldn't bare to watch - Elena among them - while others looked on in shock or horror. Everyone was silent.

The dragon's eyes sparkled with dark, insidious glee as he regarded the ethereal cloud that was all that remained of Mothra. Her sacrifice didn't seem to sway him in the slightest as all three heads slithered toward Godzilla. His forked tongues flickered in and out as he hissed, mocking. It wasn't the expression of an animal that had bested another, or of a predator regarding its prey. Ghidorah enjoyed killing. He lived for it, for the pain it caused, the power it gave.

Godzilla had said something in response, something so consumed with hatred and grief that Madison couldn't quite catch it. Her ears began to ring. Every sound around her had become drowned out by her hiccuping sobs.

But through her tears, she saw something..weird.

At this distance, it was hard to tell, but it looked like that faint orange light was turning into a dull, reddish-orange sheen, as if lava was welling up from beneath his skin.

Despite everything, she could feel that he wasn't dying. He was growing stronger.

"He's not dead." she muttered.

"What was that?" her dad responded.

"He's not - dead!" she repeated, struggling to free herself from his grasp as she ran toward Elena.

"We have to distract him, are you still connected?"

"Hold on, distract who?" she said, utterly confused.

"Ghidorah - Godzilla's not dead but he will be if we just stand here!"

Elena struggled to find a response. "I-I can't, I'm not - I had to cut him off to find you. I'm sorry."

Her father turned toward her mother, a sudden look of realization growing on his face. "We have to work fast."

"To do what?" she asked.

He nodded to someone behind her. Suddenly, a woman ran to the jeep behind them and came back holding a battered piece of equipment - the ORCA. Up close, she realized that the woman was Gill's wife. She handed it to her mother.

"You can't be serious." her mother said, looking incredulously at her father.

But he was, and everyone saw it. So they got to work.

"Sam," Jodie spoke into a handheld radio. "We're gonna need a ride."

#godzilla #king of the monsters #godzilla king of the monsters #kotm #godzilla fanfic #leviathanfic

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diyunho · 6 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Secrets” Part 1

The Joker did something so unforgivable and despicable you don’t ever want to see him again. After months of avoiding The King of Gotham, you really can’t understand why he appointed you as the only person to take care of his son in case of emergency. There’s no way you’ll accept to help the little boy in his father’s absence, yet the three years old has no fault in what happened between you and your ex.

Part 2: http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/178630090876/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-2

You have no idea for how long you’ve been driving, but you feel the need to pull over again: the restlessness is becoming unbearable and the tears clouding your vision make it dangerous to continue the trip for the moment.

You signal and switch lanes, slowly approaching the emergency shoulder ahead without a clue about what to do afterwards; one thing’s for sure though: Y/N will definitely take refuge in LA.

At this point it’s safe to say that the town her father owns is probably the only home she ever had; not a very comforting notion yet the shocking revelation she accidentally stumbled upon a few hours ago doesn’t leave any room for alternatives.

You park as close as possible to the concrete railing and get out of the SUV, the cold air making you shiver since your coat is quite thin for the chilly spring afternoon. You start pacing around the car, hesitantly glaring at your cellphone. Should you make the call now or wait?... …

Might as well get it over with.

You press the screen on the sole name listed under “Important Contacts”: Dad.

The Joker’s phone number used to be there also; it got blocked and removed when you had to stop for fuel at a gas station back in Gotham.

Jase picks up right away and the sound of his familiar voice makes it harder to keep yourself together.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi daddy,” you sniffle and bite on your lip, not wanting to cry. “How are you?”

“Not bad for an old man, kid. How’s my favorite daughter?” he asks and despite not remembering being more upset in your life, you still crack a smile since the mobster doesn’t have any other children.

“I’m OK dad,” you gulp and continue. ”I’m actually on my way to Los Angeles; I should be there tomorrow night.”

“That’s great, Y/N! I didn’t see you in a while and I sure miss you. How long are you staying?”

You take a deep breath, almost chocking on the painful words:

“Indefinitely…”

Absolute silence for a few seconds and then Jase growls:

“What the fuck did he do now?”

You sigh, choosing not to share the specifics of your decision.

“It’s just not working out…So I’m coming home…Can I use the house again please?” your request makes your parent cringe.

“That’s your house and you don’t need my permission to live there, kiddo. What’s going on, hm? You know you can tell me,” the 62 years old attempts to reason with the distressed Y/N: although she’s doing a decent job at hiding her heartache, he can read in between the lines.

“I’ll…I’ll be fine dad, don’t worry,” you mutter and your father knows better than to push for a confession; you’ll probably bring him up to date when you’ll be ready. “I think I’ll get on the road again; I have to cover as much distance as possible today.”

“Sure kid, I’ll see you soon. Drive safe!” Jase agrees because he realizes his daughter won’t be able to talk for longer: she sounds flustered and will probably burst into tears as soon as she hangs up.

“I will daddy. Bye…” is the faint answer the King of LA discerns before the conversation ends.

That son of a bitch! Jase grinds his teeth, angered at the simple affirmation of what he feared for months: The Joker was the wrong choice and certainly didn’t deserve your affection.

You were in love with him regardless.

So what the hell happened?!

************

Five hours ago

You were beyond excited to see J after the four days business trip; your father had a special request for his daughter to help smoothing out a transaction with one of his main New York partners and you obliged. Things went better than expected: Y/N managed to finish the assignment a day earlier which made the anticipation of being reunited with her boyfriend feel like a well-deserved bonus.

You rushed out of the elevator straight into the living room at the Penthouse and your enthusiasm got cut off when you saw this woman wearing one of your silk robes nonchalantly organizing piles of money in a few suitcases scattered on the floor. Her eyes got big when she noticed your presence.

“You’re early,” the woman concluded, more annoyed than surprised. “Weren’t you supposed to return tomorrow?”

You gazed at her with contempt, unaware of how bad it was.

“Who are you?” you frowned, heart beating so fast it was deafening.

She smirked, taking it upon herself to brief the clueless Y/N about the truth despite knowing The Joker will go ballistic at her actions:

“I’m his wife you dumb girl.”

You seemed stupefied and she continued:

“He does this from time to time if it benefits us business wise. Though I have to admit one year is the longest I had to share him with anybody and I’m tired of it! My husband never tells me who the women are and I trust he’s doing whatever necessary to ensure our future. I’m sick of people not knowing he’s mine!” she raised her voice, jealousy taking over. “Who are you, hm? What’s so important about you that he didn’t break it up yet?” she got worked up, seeing that as her chance to unravel the mystery of The Joker’s lengthy relationship with the stunned Y/N.

“I’m the Godfather’s daughter,” you mumbled and her entitled smile died under the burden of understanding she messed up badly.

Damn, The King of LA’s offspring! That’s why the money was pouring in from all the transactions with the other gang, that’s why The Joker kept you for so long. Oh God, he’s going to lose his mind! He should have said something to his wife about your identity, at least this time around: you were probably his most ambitious and lucrative project ever. Unfortunately, his other half screwed up beyond repair.

J’s voice coming from upstairs got you out of trance:

“Who are you talking to Nessa?” and he starting descending from the top floor with a little boy in his arms. Half way through he realized you were there and abruptly stopped, prompting the child to complain:

“Daaaaddy, I’m hungry.”

The Joker gazed at the two women in his life and didn’t get the opportunity to reply the burning question:

“You have a child?!...”

Y/N ran out of the premises, unable to fully comprehend what she witnessed by mere coincidence. She took the stairs, stumbling and almost falling on the way down; her ears were ringing and she could barely see a few feet ahead which was much better than the aftermath of the encounter happening at the Penthouse.

The Joker put his son down and urged him to go back to the master bedroom, stomping towards his petrified wife.

“What did you tell her??” he yelled so loud it made her shiver. “What did you say??” J pushed her against the wall and Nessa took a stance despite the survival instinct advising of the opposite.

“I didn’t know she is the Godfather’s daughter, ok? I’m aware we’re doing this for us, but you should keep me in the loop! I didn’t know who she was. I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry???” he snarled and the eerie grimace on his face turned into genuine insanity. “You ruined all of it and you’re sorry?? Who gave you permission to open your mouth, huh?? I could have fixed this, I could have made her think I was cheating and patch it up!!!”

“Why are you so mad?...” she had the nerve to fight and J slammed her on the floor, livid at the defiant behavior. “Do you…do you actually like her??!”

“Shut up!” he kicked her and she couldn’t stop:

“Is that it?! You like her?!”

“I said SHUT UP!” The Joker got on top of Nessa and pinned her body under his, wishing to squeeze the life out of her with his bare hands for the total disaster she was responsible for.

“Mommy…” their three years old son whimpered, scared to see his parents like that; they were caught up in the feud and didn’t see Alexis sneaking downstairs. “Mommy…” the terrified little boy made his father postpone his rampage.

“You ruined my hard work,” he hissed and got off her. “One year down the drain and you have the audacity to inquire if I like her??! Do you know how much money we lost since Jase won’t do business with me after this??!!”

“I’m sorry baby,” Nessa kept on coughing and curled up in a ball.

Alexis couldn’t stop sobbing and The Joker lift him up, panting with indignation while trying to suppress his rage.

“Sorry won’t fix shit!!!” he screamed and stormed out of the room, leaving his wife on the floor, grateful to have escaped his violent attack.

**************

After three months

You are at your father’s mansion, organizing his numerous accounts and updating wire transfers that need immediate attention after the settlements negotiated during the previous day.

“Done?” he uses his cane to knock at the opened door.

“Yes, dad. Probably 10 more minutes and I’m out of here.”

“Take your time kid,” he comes in and takes a stroll around his spacious office, wanting to share what he just found out.

You are completely absorbed into your assignment and Jase analyzes your features, delighted as always to see so much of him in his daughter.

“Say Y/N,” he gets your attention,”wanna hear some news?”

“Hmm?” you lift your head up from the laptop, not overly curious to discover whatever he wants to share.

“Your ex nearly lost his life two days ago. Apparently an ambush. His wife was with him, my sources inform. She’s dead and he’s not doing well either,” your parent emphasizes the secret relationship and watches you squirm in your chair, startled at his unexpected revelation. “Is that why you left him?” the interrogation makes you hold your breath and he shakes his head, irritated. “You found out the jerk was married? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhale, cornered by the impulsive Godfather.

“Because I didn’t want the business partnership between Gotham and LA to be impacted by my personal life,” you blur out one of the main reasons for your silence.

“Business partnership?! When it comes to my family to you think I give a damn about monetary gain? Are you serious?!”

“I knew you would retaliate and I didn’t want him to think that I care. Because…because I don’t,” the sadness in your voice makes Jase calm down a bit.

“… … Why are you crying then?...” he pushes the box of tissue in front of his devastated daughter; you didn’t even realize tears are rolling down your face. Jase grabs your hand and pulls you up in his embrace, holding you closer when you start bawling your eyes out on his shoulder. “Nobody messes with my little girl,” he whispers and caresses your hair, somewhat discouraged by your objection:

“I’m 30 daddy,” you sniffle and bury your face in his shoulder again.

“Still my little girl,” your father grumbles, displeased his own flesh and blood thought she didn’t mean more to him than a few million dollars.

It’s clear you kept the secret for other reasons also, probably the most important being the embarrassment of finding out you were used and taken for an idiot by the man you obviously loved.

A whole year of lies and deceit…

The cut runs deeper when it comes from the person that meant so much it got you convinced to change your mind about not wanting children; The Joker probably laughed at your willingness to give him an heir when he already had one with his own wife.

The two of them definitely deserved each other, but he definitely didn’t deserve you.

***********

2 weeks later at your house

“What does he want?” you sneer after one of the guards entrusted with your security told you Jonny Frost is here to ask for a meeting.

“I’m not sure, he says it’s an emergency. He has a little boy with him,” Nixon adds and you put aside the book you’re reading, intrigued. “Should I let him in?”

You nod a yes and furrow your eyebrows as soon as Frost enters the lounge: he’s carrying Alexis in his arms, the child fast asleep after the exhausting journey from Gotham to Los Angeles.

“Hello Y/N,” Jonny greets and you cut him off.

“What do you want?”

The Joker’s trusted henchman had a speech prepared for the encounter, yet given the current situation and the bitter look on your face he has to be as concise as possible.

“Mister J is very sick.”

“How is that any of my concern?!” you resentfully interrupt.

“Boss has to undergo a few surgeries since he can’t walk or talk properly,” Frost colors the big picture with a few carefully chosen words. “He left special instructions regarding his son: Mister J would like you to take care of Alexis in his absence.”

“Get out!” you snap and stand up from the couch. “Get out!” you repeat, disgusted by his demand. “The Joker has plenty of resources and people to fulfill his instructions. I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!!!” you yell and the three years old is rubbing his eyes, almost woken up by the commotion. “How dare you come here and ask such a thing after what happened? Get out!”

“I didn’t know,” Jonny responds since he guessed exactly what you’re referring to. “I had no clue. And even if I knew, I couldn’t have said anything anyway,” his honesty doesn’t make it better. “Please take Alexis, I can’t go back with him; you know how Mister J is. Please Y/N,” Frost pleads and you bark:

“You have 20 seconds to disappear from my sight!!”

Nixon and four other goons approach, signaling Jonny to follow them because it’s evident the fuming Y/N is not thrilled with the uninvited guests. Frost has no other option besides leaving the premises, wondering how he’s going to explain his failure to The Joker.

“Ava!” you address the woman patrolling the western corridor of the house. “Have the crew ready in one hour, I need to pick up some diamonds from Enzo Neroni.”

Jonny is too far to discern the rest of the conversation and a simple plan flourishes in his brain: Enzo is one of the smugglers J uses on a regular basis also. Frost knows exactly where to find him and this might be the only chance that will act in his favor.

At this point he has nothing to lose.

************

“What is he doing here?” you point out at The Joker’s son as Enzo neatly places the purchased diamonds in tiny jewelry boxes.

“Uhh,” he shrieks. “Frost dumped him here until he can find a safe place for the kid. I guess his father will be out of commission for at least one month and he doesn’t want anyone messing with his offspring. I’m sure they’ll be some jumping at the opportunity. Get out of my way!” Enzo pushes the little boy and he falls on his knees, picking himself up afterwards. Alexis holds his teddy bear tighter, staring at all the strangers around and seems terrified.

“Can you not do that?” you smack your lips, aggravated.

“Do what?” Enzo halts his task. “You don’t want the gems in boxes? I can put them in pouches.”

“I was talking about the young boy,” you clarify your statement.

The smuggler lifts his shoulders up, defending his indifference.

“My warehouse is no place for children. Hey, don’t touch that!” he slaps Alexis’s hand when he reaches for a bottle of water on the table. “I didn’t say you can have it! I fucking hate kids,” he gives the three years old a mean look and it pisses you off.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask and snatch the water, opening the lid.

“U-hum,” Alexis barely manages to utter.

“Can I have this water or do I need permission too?” you mock and Enzo lifts his hands up in surrender, not wanting to initiate trouble. “Here,” you offer it to the little one and help him drink. He sure is thirsty since it takes a few good seconds before finishing. “Are you hungry?” and the child shrivels up, not answering your question. “Did you give him anything to eat?”

“No; I suppose I can send somebody to fetch some food when I have a moment,” Enzo groans and arranges the boxes inside the empty suitcase you came with.

“Do you think The Joker would be happy with that answer?” you frown and the reply bothers you more than it should:

“Mister J is not here, Y/N. I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

“Your best sucks!” you mutter and take the hasty decision that will change the future for the parties involved, even if you don’t know it yet. “Where are his things?”

“In my van. Why?” Enzo is curious to hear.

“He’s coming with me, that’s why! Nixon, get the diamonds,” you order the bodyguard and you extend the palm of your hand, waiting for Alexis to take it. “Come on, let’s go,” you force a grin on your face and the little boy stalls until you encourage him again. “Come on,” and the small fingers are finally trapped within yours. “Don’t be scared, it’s ok,” you walk at his pace towards the exit.

Once you and your team are gone, Enzo dials Frost’s number and informs:

“She took him.”

Jonny is not big on religion but feels that today he was granted divine intervention.

“Oh thank God! That was so close to disaster,” he sighs, relieved.

“You better tell Mister J I didn’t do anything to his son! You know she’ll talk, I don’t want him coming after me. Tell him I actually helped and it was part of the plan. Do you fucking understand? I don’t want any trouble!”

“I’ll tell him,” Frost reassures and Enzo hangs up, wondering if it was wise to get involved in the messy situation.

**************

“I’ll tuck you in,” you pull the warm covers on top of Alexis and he anxiously wiggles after another thunder strikes in the distance. “It’s alright, it’s just a storm,” you try to make the little boy relax.

You were gone for most of the day and Ava was left in charge of the kid; at least he was bathed, fed and changed in clean clothes, undoubtedly safe under your roof just like his father wished.

“My name is Y/N. What’s your name?” you adjust his stuffed teddy bear under the blankets.

“Alexis…” he shyly whispers and gulps when another strong thunder shakes the house.

“That was close,” you wink and he nervously whimpers, distracted by the loud noise.

“Whe’s mommy?” Alexis suddenly asks. “I…I want my daddy,” his eyes get teary because he doesn’t know you and he’s frightened.

A three years old can’t possibly fathom why he doesn’t see his mother anymore and why his dad disappeared also.

“They’re not here…” you bite on your cheek. “You’ll stay with me for a while.”

“I want my moommyyy,” the boy starts crying and you don’t really know what to do.

You get under the covers and pull him in your arms, attempting to comfort an agitated child that squirms to escape the stranger’s embrace.

“Ssssstt, it’s ok,” you keep on gently rocking him and another powerful thunder makes Alexis instinctively cling to your nightgown. “You’re ok, it’s just nasty weather. It will go away,” you caress his hair with one hand and use the other to hug him again. “There you go, don’t cry. It’s fine…” you smile and his eyes gaze into yours, totally immersed in your soothing presence. “Ssstttt, you’re good,” you cuddle with the kid, protectively holding him until his body is not tense anymore.

The Joker’s son is falling asleep and even if the raging tempest wreaks havoc outside, someone showing him affection after being tossed around all day makes him cozy. Alexis has no idea that the woman tricked into taking care of him has no obligation to do so; in fact quite the opposite. His luck has changed tonight especially since there are several groups interested in taking advantage at J’s present misfortune.

The secret is out and can’t be swept under the carpet: The King of Gotham was married and he does have a child. With many enemies lurking in the darkness waiting for a chance to strike, it’s a miracle it didn’t happen yet.

But a miracle never lasts for long and destiny has a funny way of making everyone pay their debts.

Or send unexpected help from a person that shouldn’t lift a finger in granting safe haven to a little boy that reminds Y/N of his father’s deception.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #mister j #Mistah J #mr. j #puddin #dc #DC comics #joker suicide squad #jared leto

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

Some Kind Of Folliful (New Fic!)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. Phil seems to find Dan's perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan's best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: WIP (Estimated 12-15 chapters) updates every Tuesday Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

Back at it again, kids! Highly recommend checking this out/subscribing to this on Ao3!

“You know Amanda Jones?”

Dan stops scrubbing the counter for a moment, blindsided by the strange question.

“From school?” Dan asks.

Phil nods.

“Hardy Jenns’ insipid arm candy, you mean?”

Phil rolls his eyes, hitching himself up onto a nearby countertop. “If you like.”

“I just cleaned that,” Dan complains; Phil doesn’t move an inch. “Yeah, I know her. Why d’you ask?”

Phil shrugs, swinging his feet to and fro. “What do you think of her?”

“Uh… I don’t. She’s part of a social structure I’d rather stay far away from.”

“Which is?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “You know. All that ridiculous status quo, popularity contest stuff. High school politics.”

“You mean ‘cause she’s one of the Elite?” Phil smirks knowingly.

“I think Elite is a strong word,” Dan grumbles, walking over to the sink to rinse out the cloth. “Rich, snobby assholes would be a more appropriate term for them.”

Phil snorts in amusement. Dan turns from the sink to survey him, brow furrowing.

“Why are you asking me about Amanda Jones?”

“I just think she’s interesting,” Phil answers, shrugging. “You know she’s not rich, don’t you?”

Dan sighs, grabbing the disinfectant spray off the side. He starts spraying the fridge door with it, wiping it down with the cloth.

“Yeah, I heard something about that,” Dan says after a moment. “She lives on our side of town, right? Big deal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dan huffs another sigh, already sick of this conversation. “Phil, she might have a trailer-trash bloodline, but she runs with the rich and the beautiful. It’s guilt by association.”

“Okay, that’s ridiculous,” Phil says with a snort.

Dan just glares, moving to the sink at Phil's side. Phil aims a kick at him as he passes, but Dan scoots out of his path.

“You can’t just hate her because of who she hangs out with,” Phil persists, so Dan whirls around to whack him with the wet cloth, making him shriek. “Hey!"

“Why can’t I?” He asks. “The way that girl and her big-money, cruel-heart society spit on everyone is not ‘interesting’. It’s pathetic.”

“She’s the only one who’s ever made it across the tracks, though,” Phil points out, as though this is some great achievement. “That’s pretty interesting, you’ve gotta admit.”

“She clawed her way to the dark side because she’s skinny and beautiful and leapt into bed with Hardy Jenns as soon as she snagged his attention,” Dan snaps; Phil raises his eyebrows at the tone.

“You sound pretty defensive,” Phil notes. He folds his arms and leans back against the wall, smirking again. “Jealous?”

Traitorously, Dan feels his cheeks grow a little warm. He turns away and snatches up the stock list in order to give him something to focus on.

“Of her? Don’t be stupid,” Dan mutters. “She’s got the charisma of a linoleum tile.”

“She is pretty though, isn’t she?” Phil muses.

Dan spins to face him, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. “I knew this was about that.”

“About what?”

“About your sex drive.”

“I didn’t say anything about sex.”

“Oh, right,” Dan says, rolling his eyes again. “Wanna start a book club with her?”

Phil snorts, jumping down from the counter at last. He grins at Dan as he sidles towards him. “Maybe.”

“Phil,” Dan sighs, trying hard to ignore the way his body stiffens as Phil steps closer. “Take my advice and let this go.”

“Dan, I’m just interested in her,” Phil says, one of his hands finding the end of Dan’s apron tie – ever the flirt. “I’m allowed to think she’s interesting.”

Dan shakes his head. “Don’t go roaming where you don’t belong.”

“You sound like an old wizard or something,” Phil says around a smile.

He’s standing so close now. He has a specific, sweet aroma that Dan’s pretty sure he produces without the aid of deodorant or perfume. It’s a tangy, syrupy scent, like caramelising sugar as it’s poured over a red, crisp apple. Dan has never known anybody smell so naturally delicious aside from Phil.

“If I was, I’d cast a banishing spell so that you’d stop pestering me at work.” Dan yanks his apron tie out of Phil’s hand, moving swiftly away.

It’s useless to stress the point though, he knows. It doesn’t matter how often Dan tells Phil he can’t keep showing up at the café while he’s working, wheedling free coffees, straining the Wi-Fi, and worst of all wandering through into the kitchen where he is absolutely not allowed – he’s never going to listen. Phil’s just not the type of guy who pays attention to rules like that. It’s not that Phil is a hardened criminal, he’s just a bit odd that way. He’s a dreamer, so things like hygiene regulations and fire safety probably don’t filter very far through the hazy, rose-tinted cloud of his brain.

It helps that he’s so confident, too. Whereas Dan has a tendency to turn his emotions inwards, Phil has a bright, exuberant personality, and no qualms about expressing himself to anyone at any time. He’ll chat with anybody: from the homeless man on the street corner, to the peculiar woman who walks her five corgis through the park every afternoon. Heck, he’ll even stop to converse with the corgis themselves. He’s obscenely likeable, really, and he gets away with a lot because he’s so friendly and chatty that it’s sort of impossible to be annoyed with him. Dan knows this far too well, unfortunately. Though, out of everyone, he’s probably the most successful person to maintain a level of annoyance with Phil Lester.

“You love it,” Phil says, his smirk stretching into a full on grin. “You want me to do it more.”

“I do not, as it happens, love getting fired,” Dan retorts, hoping the warmth in his cheeks isn’t as obvious as it feels. He distracts himself by walking to the far shelves under the pretence of further stock-checks. “You know how much of a bollocking I got from Jenns last time he saw you in here.”

“Yeah, but he’s not here now,” Phil says. “If he shows up, which he won’t because he never bothers to, then I’ll just hide in the pantry.”

“Louise is gonna be here in a second,” Dan warns, ignoring him. “She won’t be happy either.”

Phil scoffs. “She’s easy to get round.”

“Oh, am I?”

Dan and Phil whip round to face the back door of the kitchen, through which enters Louise, her bouncy blonde curls springing free as she removes her thick scarf.

Phil grins sheepishly at her. “I just mean you’re too lovely to kick me out.”

“Nice try, Lester,” Louise says, one eyebrow raised. “C’mon, hit the road. You can flirt with Dan after his shift is over.”

Phil pouts, but begrudgingly seems to accept that he has to get going. He finds his bag and hitches it up onto one shoulder, sighing.

“Fine. It’s boring here, anyway,” he says at last, and Dan glowers at him.

“Why do you listen to her and not me?” Dan asks.

Phil laughs, walking over to nudge Dan with his shoulder. “She’s just got an air of authority about her. Don’t take it personally.”

“I hate you,” Dan says, scowling as he pushes past Phil towards the door to the customer counter.

“Love you too!” Phil calls, still laughing; Dan rolls his eyes. “Come over later, yeah? I wanna hear more about your contempt for the bourgeoisie.”

“Bye, Phil,” Dan calls over his shoulder, stressing the farewell.

He hears the click of the back door as Phil leaves, and tries to ignore the pang in his chest, knowing that now he has four hours of his shift left without Phil’s inane chatter to keep him company. He sighs, hating himself for being such a hypocrite.

“Dan!” Louise calls out. “Come wipe Phil’s assprints off the countertops.”

A week passes, and Phil doesn’t drop the Amanda thing. It’s baffling to Dan, who has never so much as heard Phil name a serious, real-life crush in all the years they’ve been friends. Sure, he jokes that his heart is forever beating for Buffy Summers, but as she’s fictional and a literal superhero, Dan hadn’t really taken it too seriously. Now, out of seemingly nowhere, Phil has become, for lack of a better term, obsessed with a girl who is, in Dan’s eyes, shockingly mediocre.

Sure, she’s absolutely gorgeous. There’s no point in denying that, as you’d have to be blind or dumb not to recognise her dainty, symmetrical features, or the waft of shiny, nutella-brown locks cascading past her cute, studded ears. Her figure is something out of a seedy magazine. She’s petite and skinny, with a waist you could close a fist around and boobs the size of cantaloupe melons. She’s very, very pretty. But that doesn’t make her interesting. Dan has tried to explain this to Phil countless times since he first brought her up, but he doesn’t appear to even listen. He’ll just laugh or shake his head fondly, as though Dan were the one with the bizarre perspective of the situation.

“You can’t judge a book by its cover,” Phil had said to him one such time.

They’d been lying on Phil’s bed, staring up at his ceiling. Something was playing on Phil’s TV in the corner, but neither of them were paying attention.

“Yeah, but you can tell how much it’s gonna cost,” Dan had replied, a tad bitterly perhaps.

Phil had been quiet for a moment after that, and for a second Dan thought he might’ve actually gotten through. But then it was back to Amanda, back to how surprisingly sweet and clever and smart she seemed… from a distance. Because that’s another thing – Phil has never actually spoken to this girl. The reason for this is not because Phil is shy. He is possibly the least shy person Dan has ever known, in fact. The issue is that Amanda Jones is an esteemed member of the Elite, and Phil is… well, not. According to the hideously boring social structure of St Anthony’s Secondary School, any attempt Phil makes to cross the rickety bridge between his level of popularity and Amanda’s – even for so much as a conversation – would be practically suicidal.

Hardy Jenns, Amanda’s shit-head boyfriend, and coincidentally the son of Dan’s boss, would pound Phil to a mushy pulp if he so much as sniffed a rumour that he might be trying to chat up his girl. There are basically a whole plethora of reasons why Phil should just forget about Amanda altogether, but Dan cannot seem to convince him of this no matter how hard he tries. He drags on the stub of his cigarette as he considers all of this, trying to make it last. He hasn’t got any more after this one. A new pack of smokes would probably bankrupt him, too. He chucks the burnt out end on the ground and squashes it with the toe of his boot. Before all this came up with Phil, Dan spent maybe one minute of his life concerned with the boring, vapid lives of the Elite. Now, he has to engage in lengthy conversations about them every damn day. Even worse is that, as Phil is pretty much Dan’s only friend at school, there’s no relief from it.

His lack of friends willing to discuss non-Amanda related topics is entirely self-inflicted however. He’s projected an ‘unapproachable’ vibe for as long as he can remember, because it suits him to have his peers see him as a loner. He is a loner, after all. Except for Phil, of course. According to Phil, other people at school see him as mysterious, and alternative. He’s got some admirers, apparently, though Phil might be teasing him about that. Dan honestly could not care less how anyone at St Anthony's perceives him. As long as nobody actually talks to him, he’s fine with letting them think whatever they want.

Of course, Phil is a separate matter. Because even Dan can admit that having one person to talk to, or sit with, or just hang around during his down time, is a lot better than having nobody at all. Up until Year Nine, Dan’s school life was totally devoid of friendship. He’d thought, at the time, that he didn’t mind it. And then, like a comet bursting through an endlessly dull night sky, Phil appeared.

Dan had been sat in Chemistry at the beginning of term, already having chosen himself a seat at the back, in the corner by the window. Nobody picked the seat beside him, obviously, which was far from a surprise. And then Phil pushed into the lab, late - which Dan would later discover is one of his most prominent character traits. The teacher, irritated, asked Phil to find a seat. And that's where Dan's life transcended from utterly mundane, into bafflingly, ridiculously absurd. Because Phil swept that sharp bblue gaze across maybe five empty stools. He smiled at his friends waving manically, he ignored the frantic hands gesturing for him to sit beside them, and fixated on Dan, alone, scowling, in the far left corner. He plonked himself right down in the space next to him, his broad smile never faltering. Nothing has been the same since.

“Have we ever even met?” Dan had asked him, horrified by the audacity of this strange, perpetually happy person.

“We’re meeting now!” Phil had replied, grinning infectiously. He stuck out his hand for Dan to shake, and for some reason, Dan just did.

He’d tried in vain, after that first day, to be cold towards Phil. He’d tried to speak to him with only the bare minimum, answering Science-related stuff monosyllabically, or pretending he didn’t know the answer at all. Phil never bought the act. He laughed at Dan’s attempts to shrug him off. He teased and prodded and joked until Dan couldn’t hide the responding smile any more. He followed Dan about after class, telling him stupid anecdotes about his encounters with the squirrels outside, or prattling on about his latest clumsy incident.

It didn’t seem to matter to Phil that Dan barely ever responded. He was just content to lean against the lockers beside Dan’s while he rummaged inside, rambling about his newest art projects. He seated himself in the cafeteria next to Dan, tilting his phone screen to show him funny memes and videos of dogs. He’s the most persistent person Dan has ever known, to date, and he still has no clue why Phil didn’t just give up. But eventually, Dan was worn down. He began laughing at Phil’s stupid, unfunny puns. He sent Phil an occasional meme of his own over text. He made suggestions about what Phil should draw next. He started watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer , and texted Phil his opinions. It must have been an agonising few months of slow, tortoise-like progress for Phil, but they did become friends. By the time Christmas rolled around, Dan had someone in his life that actually cared enough to buy him a present.

Dan, who had never bought a Christmas present for anyone in his life, let alone received one, felt terrible, but Phil just gave him a hug, and told him it was fine. They’d watched stupid Christmas films on Boxing Day, wearing the paper hats from the Christmas Crackers Phil insisted they pull. It must have been around then that he finally accepted Phil as someone he didn’t mind having around. He dreads to think of what might happen if, somehow, Phil actually makes it across the Elite border and begins weaselling his way into the cool crowd. Those snooty kids are sure as hell not going to accept Dan as a member over there, even if they do, for whatever reason, make an allowance for Phil. Not that Dan has any interest whatsoever in associating himself with half-witted phonies, sipping the Kool-Aid of their conservative lifestyle.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts his reminiscence, startling him. He glances up at Phil, feeling caught out somehow. “Are you waiting for me? I thought you were working today?”

Dan stands up form the cold, brick wall he’s been sat on for the past half hour, resisting the urge to rub his sore ass.

“Not waiting for you, just smoking. Louise swapped my shift with Zoe,” Dan explains, shifting to discreetly work some life back into his numb buttocks.

“No way!” Phil exclaims, ridiculously excited by the news. His face lights up in a grin, and Dan has to look away or he’ll start smiling back like a lunatic. “Awesome! Surprise Dan-time.”

Phil slings his arm around Dan’s shoulders. He tuts and gives a half-hearted attempt at shrugging him off, but Phil knows him too well to take the bait, so he just squeezes Dan tighter as they begin their walk home.

“What do you wanna do?” Dan asks, heart picking up its pace a little. Don't say my house, don't say my house-

“I need your help, actually. Wanna come over for a bit?”

Dan’s shoulders sag in relief as they take the turning towards Phil’s street.

“Please tell me this is not Amanda Jones-related.”

“Maybe,” Phil says, aiming a guilty glance at him. “Come on, please? For me?” Phil begs, making Dan roll his eyes. “Besides, if you help me out, then I’ll stop talking your ear off about her.” Phil pauses. “Maybe.”

Dan sighs, contemplating how to respond. He’s said everything he can think of to dissuade Phil from this Amanda thing. He supposes could flat-out refuse to help. He could list all the reasons Amanda Jones is bad news for the zillionth time. He could storm off in a huff. But Dan has been looking forward to surprising Phil with this afternoon off work. He wants to chill out with the one person whom he can truly relax with, no matter what the topic of discussion is. Besides, Phil is far too pig-headed to listen to a word of Dan’s feeble protestations anyway.

“Ugh, fine,” Dan relents, not bothering to hide the reluctance in his tone.

Phil stops in the middle of the street to wrap him in an absurdly tight bear hug.

“You’re the best, Dan.”

“Get the fuck off me, you freak.”

Phil laughs, and squeezes harder.

(Chapter Two posted next Tuesday!)

#phan #phanfic #phan au #some kind of folliful

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rosey-writes · 5 years

Text

The Alchemist Tributes: Book One

Questioning

Find a Curiosity

And I was running late. Shoving the last of the bottles into the bag, I threw it over my shoulder as I raced out the building, bolting through the now deserted streets. I could hear the bell begin to chime and two minutes left. If I missed this and the peacekeepers didn’t kill me, Father would.

Wheezing for breath, I finally broke through the last street, skidding to a stop right by the desk.

It was 11:01.

“I’m sorry, you’re late. Please wait with the peacekeepers-”

“You don’t understand, I just got back from work-”

“You are late. Go wait with the peacekeepers.” The woman stared dead into my eyes. And I knew I was done.

“...my brother’s going up there, please.” I looked twelve, may as well try to take advantage of that.

“We all have someone going up there.” She rose. “If you won’t go willingly, I’ll have them escort you.”

My heart was thudding in my ears. Maybe I wasn’t so ready for Death. Maybe it wasn’t like I thought it would be seeing it on TV oh god I wasn’t ready to die-

“Jewelia, please.” I heard a voice from behind me and...no. No way in hell. “Why don’t we make an exception just this once. They haven’t even started.”

Eros Deamorte was helping me through.

I tried to hide my shock behind my glasses. No, it wasn’t my imagination, it was him, the fire red hair, jade eyes, an older, sharper version of his dullard son.

The woman’s face paled, and immediately she takes my hand, pricking the needle and smushing it against the paper, probably much harder than necessary, but I wasn’t pushing my luck. When I got it back, I put it in my pocket, looking back to...I still couldn’t believe I’m speaking to Eros Deamorte. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart.” Eros smiled, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll want a front row seat for this one.”

“Huh?”

“Your brother; we all know he’s going this year.”

Something about his tone seemed off. But maybe it was my paranoia. “Right.”

“But hey, can I ask you to deliver a message to the future tribute?”

Well, I wasn’t planning on visiting Illias before he went, but I did owe this guy now. Not a good thing, owing things to a Deamorte. “Of course.”

“Win for us. We’ll need a good mentor next year.”

What? “Why for nex-”

“Oh, look, the ceremony starting.” Eros pats my head, pushing me in with the fifteen year olds. “Good luck, Swift. May the odds be ever in your favor.” With a wink and a twirl, the sprout of red hair bobbed off into the crowd.

While I couldn’t see any of my brothers, I could feel their glare, Father too somewhere with the adults. Most of the other kids were staring at me too now. Wonderful. Clearing my throat, I stood up straighter, a bored expression stitched onto my face.

Before anyone could comment, a flash of smoke boomed onto the stage, and standing in the middle of it, decked head to toe in golds and diamonds, stood the one, the only person dumber than Fiyero and Illias, “Ammolite Gold, everybody! Come on, put your hands up!”

In most districts, the mayor is the one does this part, the song and dance about the dark days. But most districts don’t have Ammolite for an escort. He annoys me. I believe he annoys everybody, though most people are subtler about it. He’s loud, obnoxious, and, above all else, Capitol.

“Alright, so.” He flashed that golden grin of his. And by golden, I mean he spray painted his teeth gold. “Why don’t we get this show on the road? Play the clip!”

War, terrible war- and that’s where I zone out. The reel plays, I yawn, managing to spot the rest of my brothers. Illias was standing very front and center of the eighteen year olds, Bravon further back with the seventeens, and Satin was practically curled up mixed among the sixteens. Honestly, sometimes I feel Satin is just me without the willpower to tell dad he’s an idiot.

Our mentors for this year were up on stage as well, Lamar and Glitta. Far from the most embarrassing ones, I suppose: Lamar quiet and dignified, Glitta cocky and obnoxious but with enough sense to tone it down for on camera. I’ve known both most my life, being neighbors and all, though I never spent much time talking to either - minus telling Glitta if she lets her brats break into my room again, she wouldn't have them anymore.

Finally, the video came to an end, and Ammulite clapped, standing center stage. “Alright, now for the fun part. We’ve got an special surprise this time around!” With that, he pulled a golden envelope from his coat. I have no doubt that he based his entire outfit around the paper. “Welcome to... the Quarter Quell! It’s gonna be a good one, the Capitol came up with it, like, last week. Pretty sweet, right?” Then, he paused, putting a hand to his ear. “Oh. Uh, I mean, they came up with it when the games first started. Yeah. Totally not a rush job.”

Moron.

“But yeah, so, let’s see what we’ve got!” With that, he cut open the top with one of his long, sharpened nails, clearing his throat. “On this - wait, scratch that - on the 100th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that they forced their children into turning on their brethren, they shall choose among themselves who will represent them. Wait a second, this wasn’t on th-" I could see his lips still moving, but the mic was shut.

Really? Doesn’t seem like much of an extra punishment. Maybe for those kids out in 12 who aren’t swimming in volunteers, but here? Illias is still going in. They’re practically vote-ins already. When the name is picked, the mentor chooses from the pool of volunteers, or can just discard the volunteers altogether. Everyone’s just going to vote for Illias and Amazonia.

Ammolite was still talking, mic back on, about what, who cares, “Capitol says you could just use this to send your best, or you could get rid of someone you don’t like, do whatever, man,” as the peacekeepers pass around the tablets.

Illias turned back, glaring at me from his spot, mouthing put me, or else. Well. Now I’m tempted to not to, just out of spite. Whatever, It’s his life, not mine. I typed Amazonia’s name in first, her picture flashing at the top with a is this correct? Dark black hair, creepily green eyes and a smile that says ‘I eat souls for a pastime’. Yeah, that’s her. I admit, I hesitated a moment with Illias. Should I? I mean, I trust him, I suppose, I know he’s ready but...there’s twenty three other kids in there, and at least five as well trained as him… Not that I cared if he died, of course, because I don’t. With a huff, I typed in his name, passing off the tablet. Whatever, it’s not like my vote would make a difference anyway.

Within ten minutes, everyone had cast their vote, and Ammulite came back onto the stage. “Now it’s time for the fun part.” Another puff of smoke, and two balls appeared on the stage, each containing only one piece of paper. Why bother when there’s only one? No clue. I chalk it up to cyanide in the Capitol water supply, killing off brain cells.

“Now, let’s hear one for the ladies.” He sent a wink to the audience, more than a few girls letting out a dreamy sigh, as he reached into the bowl. There was a drum beat, somewhere, before he plucked it out. “Welcome onto the stage… Amazonia Rhode!”

The crowd went wild. I didn’t bother. She marched up the stage, trained soldier she was, taking Ammulite’s hand and holding it up in victory, as he kissed her cheek. Yeah, that surprised nobody.

“And now, onto the boys.” Another pointless drum beat. “Hey, we’ve got another Swift going up this year, sweet!” What a shocker. “Saw reruns of your dad the other week, ripping a guy’s lungs out, awesome.” Gross. “But, yeah, so, everyone, put your hands together for, Eliot Swift!”

Whatever, at least it’ll get him out of the hous- wait, what?

“Eliot Swift, come on up!”

No. No, no they had to have the wrong name in there, it’s not possible, I’m the only Swift who didn’t want to enter the games, no way it would be me. Illias was glaring daggers at me, and I heard laughter from every corner.

No, no, this was not- “Excuse me,” I spoke in a calm, collected voice because I’m not a savage and more importantly there’s no way they voted for me. “There must be a mistake, I believe you’re looking for Illias Swift.”

Ammulite on the stage took another glance at the paper, long and hard. Good, so it must have been a smudged letter. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s Eliot on here.”

…“No.”

“Uh, what do you mean, no-”

“No, it is not my name, it is Illias’s, why, what, who would have voted for me? Did anyone here vote for me?” Almost every single person raised their hand, with the exception of my brothers.

Really? Really? I could hear the jeers and laughter as I was pushed to the front, helped along by peacekeepers and the other teenagers that until now, I held mild contempt for, but now, now I swear they’ll pay.

As I passed the seventeen year olds, I saw him there, that infuriating puff of red hair, giving me that sickeningly sweet grin. “No one’s volunteering.” Sadist. I used to mean it sarcastically, but not anymore.

And so, I stood upon that stage, a shitty star against the sea of smiling faces, the girl next to me licking her lips like she’d found her first meal, mouthing ‘you’re first’. We shook hands, she crushed mine, I think actually broke it, but at this point, I was too high on rage to even notice.

Just my fucking luck.

Finally, Ammulite asked if we had any final words. I blacked out, brain turned off, running on complete autopilot, mind in the furthest reaches of the stem. Without permission from the control room, my hand took the microphone, tapped on it once, and used my kindest, sweetest voice. “I am going to win. Not because I want to bring glory, not because I want to live, but just so I can come back here and slice the smile off of every one of your petty, pathetic little faces. Fuck you, see you all in hell.”

I dropped the mic. On my foot. And squeaked in pain.

This was going well.

#the alchemist tributes #Questioning arc #Hunger games #Fanfic #Hunger games fanfic #Eliot Swift #Fiyero deamorte #Amazonia Rhodes

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letmeletmetrashyourlove · 6 years

Text

Zombie Boy

(gif credit: rosaque) (Literally one of my top five gif makers.) (I adore them)

Author’s Note: Holy shit I’ve been working on this damn thing for so long that now I hate it. It started as a Billy x reader fic and slowly turned into an OC fic so weee!

Summary: Billy helps Byers!Reader through the challenges of protecting her little brother.

I laid on my back in bed, a book resting on my chest, one from the pile of novels in my corner that I told myself I would read over the summer. Well, the summer was creeping to a close, the days became shorter and colder and I hadn’t made a dent. Shuffling from my window made me glance up to identify a familiar mullet-haired boy climbing through, gingerly stepping around the things on my desk. “You know you can just come in the front door, right?” I asked as my focus moved back to my book, turning the page. “More fun this way.” He grinned as his booted feet beat the floor.

Billy grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me to the end of the bed, forcing me to lose my clutch on my book in surprise as a yelp escaped my lips. I let out a wild giggle as he planted his hands on either side of my head and leaned down to kiss me.

“What’s that for?” I smiled up at him, resting my hands on his shoulders. “Missed you after school today.” He hummed, pressing another chaste kiss to my lips. “I had to go to the doctor with Will,�� I explained. Every other Monday for the past year had been the scheduled day to go back to Hawkins Lab to meet Doctor Sam Owens. He maintained that he wasn’t one of the men that caused harm to Will and that all of those men were gone, but I remained incredulous. The tests they did were routine, often not revealing anything out of the ordinary or new. But it was evident that they were searching for something, though they wouldn’t tell us what. Billy had been in Hawkins for hardly three weeks. He spent the first week here turning out every girl he could, it was almost like he had a list in his head of girls he wanted to fuck and leave in the dust. But I wasn’t going to bend to that so easily, and he made it his task to get me alone. And it wasn’t so much that I was purposely avoiding him, but that I just had other things going on. He caught onto my schedule and ended up staying behind after school and waiting for me to get out of my study group in the library. At least, that’s what he said, but I’m not entirely convinced that he didn’t just happen to get out of detention at the same time I left. He somehow persuaded me to let him give me a ride home. And then a ride home the next day, and the next day, until he kidnapped me and took me to the diner before going home. We talked about his home life, where he was from. What California was like. The Byers’ family could never afford to travel out of state, let alone to go as far as the coasts of California. He showed me how he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, sticking it out of his mouth and proudly displaying it. I tried it myself, ending up nearly choking on the damn thing in the process. I turned away from him, my face red from coughing and from the embarrassment that could be seen in the rising blush on my cheeks. He caught my chin, turning me around to face him and pressing his lips to mine. We both tasted of the artificial sugar from the cherries and the whipped cream from our milkshakes. He pulled away with a smirk, finally winning in this unspoken game he was playing. And, much to my surprise, he didn’t try to get into my pants when he dropped me off at home. He instead gave me one last peck on the lips and went home. The day I decided to tell him about Will was an arduous one. I told him we needed to talk, which I could tell struck fear into his heart. He drove us out to the quarry and parked along the edge. We rolled down the windows to let in some of the tranquil autumn air and to ease the nervous sweat that was beading on my forehead. He listened intently as I poured my heart out, resting a reassuring hand on my knee when I felt the tears burning in the back of my eyes and my throat closing up. I was more emotionally raw than I had in a long time, finally getting some semblance of the truth out to somebody that I knew would listen and I could trust not to say anything. Sure, it wasn’t the whole truth. Only what you could read about in the papers and watch on the nightly news, but getting it off my chest was the most significant thing. That spot on the edge of the quarry became our spot. It was far enough off the beaten path that other couples wouldn’t be able to find us. It wasn’t our intention to hide, but neither of us could deny the peace we found sitting beside each other, fingers intertwined, music playing softly on the radio. As the days went on, both of us became more and more comfortable with each other, he dragged me into the back seat to sit on his lap, eyes full of lust. The night ended with a severe lack of clothes and a plethora of bruises on the inside of my thighs and along my neck. He met me with a smirk the next couple of days of school, noticing I had borrowed a turtleneck from Jonathan to hide the marks on my neck. Then came the task of telling my brother why exactly I had to swipe his shirt. Which ended as many of our discussions did, in a screaming fit. Both of us with red faces and clenched fists as we hurled insults back and forth. There was an unspoken Billy ban in our house, not that Jonathan actually had the balls to enforce it. Besides, his time was consumed by being the pretentious prick that he is and sitting in his room blasting boring music and reading some old ass book. Despite my brother’s contempt for Billy, every Friday night was date night and he’d be picking me up soon. I spent a few moments in front of the mirror trying to tame my overly staticky hair and smearing on a coat of lipstick before I heard a knock at the door. I popped the lid back on my lipstick, setting it down on my vanity tray before answering the door. “You’re early.” I greeted, opening the front door for Billy. He beamed at me, a slight blush on his cheeks from the biting winter air. His arms were behind his back, obviously hiding something from my view. “What you got there?” I asked, “A puppy?” He rolled his eyes, revealing the bouquet of violets he held behind his back. The plastic wrapping crinkled as I took them, admiring the note card that was attached. All it had was Billy’s initials and a heart drawn on it, about as romantic as this boy usually got. “What’s this for? What did you do?” “What, I can’t just bring my girlfriend flowers?” He opposed, settling his hands on my hips and pecking me on the lips as he moved me aside to step in from the cold. “Hmm… Nope.” I hummed, heading into the kitchen to put the flowers in water. The last time he bought me flowers, he beat up some guy that I made an offhand comment about. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me in chemistry class, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. And Billy wasn’t going to have that, oh no. He waited until I had a sick day from school to confront the boy in the hall after class and knock out one of his teeth. When he was supposed to bring me more cold medicine after school, he instead spent the evening in detention, arriving three hours late with bloodied knuckles, a milkshake from Benny’s, cough syrup, and a bouquet of violets. It wasn’t until the next day when I returned to school that I knew he had nearly knocked a kid out in the hallway. It seemed to be a routine now before I could hear rumors of his misbehavior through the grapevine, he brought me a bouquet. I rose onto my tiptoes to reach a vase from the cabinet, before I could reach it, I bumped against something on the counter. I let out a sound of surprise as I accidentally knocked Will’s sketchbook off. It hit the ground with a thud, a piece of paper fluttering out. I bent over to pick it up, discovering it was a newspaper clipping with writing in marker that bled through to the other side of the paper. I flipped it over to see it was the story from the day Will was found. Green marker was scrawled across the picture “Zombie Boy”. I felt my face instantly heat up with anger as I crumpled the paper in my hand. “Hey, you okay?” Billy asked, taking notice of my taught muscles and caressing my shoulders from behind. “Who the fuck makes fun of a kid that ended up in an alternat-” I stopped myself, realizing that I was about to accidentally spill the beans to Billy. “What?” “Ugh!” I roared, uncrumpling the paper and showing it to him, “How can kids be so shameless as to make fun of a kid who was kidnapped and brainwashed and probably tortured by some fucking evil corporation with nothing better to do than to try to fuck people over for the sake of-” I rambled before I was cut off by a peck on my lips. I let out a huff, glaring at Billy, “Don’t kiss me when I’m mad!” I objected, reaching up to erase the bit of my lipstick that rubbed off on his lips. “Why are you mad?” A small voice broke from behind me. I spun to see Will standing in the entryway to the kitchen, an empty glass in hand. “Nothin’ kiddo. Need more to eat?” I questioned, “I can fix you a sandwich or something before we go.” Although Will had grown taller over the past year, he hadn’t filled out any. All I could attribute it to was the stress from everything he had been through. It seemed like we could seldom get him to eat anything most of the time, and when he did eat, he just picked at it. “No, I had pizza at Mike’s, thanks.” He smiled, going into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Billy still held the scrap of crumpled newspaper in his hand, peering at me with furrowed brows and lips parted as if he were about to say something. I shook my head at him, not wanting him to bring up something that Will was evidently trying to hide. He ignored me though, “Hey, Will. Where’d this come from, bud?” Billy questioned, holding the scrap out to Will. Will's face fell as he looked at the paper, “Nowhere.” He whispered, studying his beat-up sneakers and shuffling them stiffly. “It obviously came from somewhere. Tell me who I need to punch.” Billy insisted, “Billy.” I uttered, resting my hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “What? This isn’t cool!” He bellowed “Will?” “I-I- I don’t know… It was in my locker when I opened it this morning.” He stammered. Billy growled, “Pussy couldn’t even say it to your face.” He grumbled. I delivered a thump to Billy’s shoulder, a warning to watch his language and to quiet himself down. His anger was tough to curtail. It was constant and impending, threatening to burst out and attack whoever the closest victim happened to be, whether or not they were the source of his anger. He told me that I helped make him better about his anger. And I told him he shouldn’t rely on me to do that for him. It wasn’t healthy to put his sanity on me. But I did notice when I was with him that he sat with fists clenched, jaw taught, and teeth grinding rather than unleashing that anger onto anybody else. I took the piece of newspaper from Billy and reached into the front pocket of his denim shirt, pulling out his lighter, “C’mere.” I ordered Will, beckoning him over to the kitchen sink and handing him the lighter, “Light her up.” “What?” “Light it on fire. Burn the bullies… Symbolically, anyway.” I said, shooting a glare over my shoulder at Billy, who I could sense was plotting all the various ways he could make the people who hurt Will suffer. Will struggled to turn the ignitor on the lighter, but after a couple of tries, he lit the paper on fire and watched the edges of it curl up on itself as it burned away. I dropped it into the sink when the flames got too close to my fingers, putting it out with the faucet before we set off the smoke alarms, Will dawned a hint of a devious grin as he glanced up at me, “Feels good, huh?” “Yeah. Kinda.” He smirked as I threw my arm around his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff, right? You don’t have to hide it?” I whispered. “Yeah, I know… it’s just… I don’t know… I feel like I’m…. kind of a burden.” He murmured, once again training his eyes on his sneakers. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach at those words. With everything that he had been through, the last thing he needed to be thinking was that he was a burden to me. I felt a sting at the back of my eyes as I grabbed him by the shoulders, “Hey.” I asserted, “You are not a burden. Nothing you could ever do would make you a burden, you understand?” He nodded, taking his glass of orange juice and his sketchbook and retreating into his bedroom once again. When I heard his door click shut, I turned back toward Billy. The sting in my eyes had turned into tears that overflowed out onto my cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey.” He consoled, meeting me halfway across the kitchen and tugging me against his chest. I let out a few silent sobs into his shirt, “I just don’t know how to help him.” I squeaked. Billy let me cry on his shoulder for a little while, brushing his hands up and down my back while he rocked me back and forth. “Sorry.” I sniffled as I backed away, wiping the snot from under my nose. Billy shook his head to tell me not to worry about it, snagging a tissue from the box that sat on the counter and handing it to me. I gladly took it, wiping my eyes. “Don’t be sorry, okay? I can’t even imagine what you guys went through.” I nodded as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, “Come on. Let’s just go to the movie and try to relax for the night, okay?” He suggested, wiping one last stray tear from my cheek. “Lemme go say bye real quick,” I told him, heading back towards Will’s bedroom. I knocked on his door, peering in, “Hey, kid. Billy and I are headed to the movies. Want me to bring home some popcorn for you?” I asked. “Uh. How about some milk duds?” He asked, a grin playing on his lips. “You got it. Love you, see ya later.” I said, starting to close the door, “Oh, don’t forget to let Chester out to potty before you go to bed.” The dog lifted his head off the mattress at the sound of his name, “Got it.” Will told me, patting Chester on the head. I closed the door behind me as I went into the hallway, knocking on Jonathan’s door. “Hey, asshole!” I hollered over the music that was blasting from his room, “I’m leaving!” “Good, get Hargrove out of my house!” Jonathan retorted. He and I had a strained relationship. Being so close in age, we always struggled to outdo each other when we were younger. What should’ve been playful sibling rivalry ended up driving a wedge between us when Lonnie left. We were down to one income in the house, and that meant that everybody got less and less. Less for birthdays, less for holidays, less for back to school. It made us end up fighting for rewards, getting taken out for ice cream with just mom when we did something well since we couldn’t afford to get all four of us ice cream at one time. You would think that Will’s disappearance would’ve brought us together, but we only ended up blaming each other. Him shouting at me that I should’ve heard something since I was home, me screaming at him for getting a job instead of taking care of Will and driving him back from Wheeler’s house that night since he had taken the car to his job.

We both kept a closer watch over Will. That was for sure, but I could tell that the rift was starting to bother him. He wanted to have family game night but it would usually end up with Jonathan or I screaming at each other over something stupid. And I would like to think that I was always the innocent bystander, just the victim of Jonathan’s irrationality. But I was irrational too, and I knew it. But nothing pushed us further from each other than Billy Hargrove. He was everything that Jonathan despised. A jock with a bad boy attitude, fancy car, loved metal and Playboy magazine. He was somehow below Jonathan, in his eyes anyway. But he did knock Steve down a peg, not that Steve paid any mind to it. Jonathan, on the other hand, saw it as a potential opportunity to go after his middle school crush, Nancy Wheeler. Even though she and Steve were still together, something about the way she talked about Steve told me something was off. It was only a matter of time before the Hawkins ‘it’ couple called it a quits. Billy took my hand, offering me a glance to say ‘you ready?’. When I nodded, he brought me out to his car, opening my door for me. “You know I can open my own door, right?” I quipped. “Can I not do something chivalrous?” He replied. “Nope. Because I know all you really want is to get in my pants.” “That’s not true! I want to talk about your feelings and get in your pants.” He defended, earning a smack on the chest when he got into the driver’s seat. As soon as he started the car, he reached for the radio, groaning in annoyance when the only thing on his favorite station was commercials. “Oh hey! I like that song!” I blurted as Billy flipped through the stations, He raised an eyebrow at me as he switched the station back, “Under pressure, that brings the building down, splits the family in two.” I hummed along with the song, “You and Bowie…” He chuckled to himself. “At least I don’t have a half naked poster of him in my room.” I sassed, propping my feet up on the dash, “Hey, you leave Shauna out of this!” He gasped, shooting me a glare. “Shauna gives me the creeps. Her eyes follow you.” I brought my index and middle finger to my eyes, making a ‘watching you’ motion at Billy. “Gotta have something to look at when you aren’t around, sweetheart. Unless you’ll let me take a picture.” He smirked, licking his lips as he glanced over at me and rested his hand on my thigh. “And having some creepy old perv develop the film for you? No thanks.” I quipped, arranging my hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. “Could always use a Polaroid.” He suggested, “The only creepy perv looking at it would be me.” “Not gonna happen, Hargrove.” I purred. “Then Shauna stays.” He huffed. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll just get a shirtless Arnie poster to hang over my bed.” “Oh, that’s just cruel.” He replied. “Gotta have something to look at when you aren’t around, sweetheart.” I cooed. By the grace of god, we managed to get a parking spot right out front of the Hawk. Billy was talking to me about something as we waited in line for the tickets. I couldn’t pay attention though, my eyes were focused on a group of kids I had seen picking on Will before. They were all crowded around the concession stand, throwing popcorn at each other and laughing. “Hey.” Billy alerted, snapping his fingers in front of my face as I spaced out. “Hm? What?” I exclaimed, my gaze shifting back to him. “You okay?” He asked, following the direction where my stare was directed a second ago, “Those kids do something?” Billy had been on edge around me ever since I had my first breakdown about Will in front of him. The hostility wasn’t targeted at me, no, not in the slightest. But the first time he saw me cry, he got so irate that he went and beat up the older sibling of one of the kids who was bullying Will. Now every group of kids we saw made him bristle, his muscles going taut and jaw clenching when he saw them. “Baby.” He prompted, giving me a bump with his elbow. I shook my head at him, “No… I mean… I don’t know… maybe.” I sighed, looking at my feet. “Want me to go have a talk with them?” “No! God, no.” I blurted. The last time he went to ‘have a talk’ with somebody, we got banned from Benny’s diner. Something to do with food flying across the restaurant… and then… a person flying across the restaurant. “You sure?” “Yes. I’m sure I don’t want to get barred from the only movie theater in town, Billy.” “Not that kind of ‘talking to them’.” He defended. “Oh, so you’re just gonna yell at them until they break down in tears?” “They deserve it if they’re giving Will shit.” I shook my head again, “Just leave it.” Billy bought the tickets while I got in line for the concessions. I ordered a popcorn and drink for him and I to split as well as the milk duds Will wanted. I tucked them into my purse before meeting Billy at the end of the line. He hooked his arm through mine as he led me into the theater, picking our usual spot in the back row. It was rare that we ever went to a movie and actually watched it, more often than not we ended up making out the whole time. The previews started, allowing me to sink into my seat and relax for a moment. That was until the kids from the lobby sat in the row ahead of us. Billy threw his arm around my shoulder, trying to pull me against him.. I remained stiff though, eyes trained on the kids as they chatted and giggled. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I couldn’t help but think they were saying something about Will. “Hey.” Billy murmured, resting his hand under my chin and turning me to look at him, “It’s okay.” I nodded, leaning against his shoulder and trying to focus on the movie. I reached into the popcorn bucket we were sharing, shoving a few pieces into my mouth. The group of kids burst out into laughter yet again, every muscle in my body tensed up. I couldn’t seem to relax, despite Billy’s hand running up and down my back. “Hey, shut up, will ya?” Billy shouted at the kids, making them turn to us with bewildered eyes. When they caught sight of me, their laughter dissolved into whispers, and I could hardly make out over the booming music of the movie, “Isn’t that Zombie Boy’s sister?” I sank my teeth into my lip, rough enough to leave a bruise. Billy, however, didn’t hold the same restraint. He threw himself out of his seat, practically leaping over the row in front of us and grabbing the kid by the collar, “What did you just say?” He snarled as he tore the boy to his feet. “Nothing.” The kid burst, grasping onto Billy’s forearms. “Billy.” I breathed, “No. Nuh-uh. He’s not getting away with this.” “By all means, kid. Repeat what you just said!” Billy hollered, making everybody in the nearly full theater turn around to stare. “I-Isn’t t-that z-z-zombie boy’s s-sister?” The kid stammered. “That’s what I thought.” Billy growled, “What the hell's the matter with you, huh? Calling him that? Saying that in front of her?” “I-I-I-I d-don’t… I- don’t k-know.” The kid sputtered. “Kids got a name. It’s Will.” Billy snapped, “Now, you apologize to my girl, got it?” The boy gulped, turning to look at me, “I-I-I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered, eyes wide in shock. “Say that shit again and you’ll be the next kid to disappear.” Billy threatened, releasing the boy with a shove. He stepped back over the row of seats and took my hand. “You okay?” He murmured, his opposite hand resting on my cheek. I nodded, eyes still trained on the stunned kids in the row ahead of us. “Let’s get out of here.” He led me out of the theater and to his car in silence. Not even the radio played. The only sound was tires on asphalt. He knew I would be mad at him for how he acted in the theater. And I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything about it. I didn’t have the energy. And my silence was always what scared him the most. Sometimes he liked to annoy me, get under my skin and make me yell at him. He thought it was hot when I got pissed. But silence was another beast entirely. We pulled into my driveway to see Will standing on the porch. He wore his brown and green plaid PJ pants with a white tee shirt. Despite the stinging cold of winter, he had no shoes on and no jacket. He stared off into space, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. “Will?” I called as I stepped out of the car, walking towards him slowly. He didn’t reply. I broke into a sprint and bounded up the porch steps, “Will!?” I gasped, As I got closer, I could determine his eyes were trained on the sky, darting back and forth wildly. “Will!?” I repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders. They rose and fell harshly with each breath he took becoming faster and sharper than the last. “Will! Bud! Snap out of it!” I shouted, waving my hand in front of his vision. “Will!” Billy bellowed from behind me, loud enough to rip Will out of his trance. He let out a gasp, grabbing onto my arms where they rested on his shoulders. His eyes explored all of my features before he threw himself into my arms, head against my chest. “It’s okay, I’m here.” I soothed, placing a hand on the back of his head and another on his back. He balled up my jacket in his fists, “Let's get inside, come on, it’s freezing.” He stayed glued to me as we went inside, only relaxing slightly when I sat down on the couch with him. Mom had gone out to dinner with Bob, leaving Jonathan in charge while I was out with Billy. But music still blasted from his room, blissfully unaware that Will had managed to wander out onto the porch alone. “Stay here, kid,” I whispered to Will, getting up and swinging Jonathan’s bedroom door open. To my surprise, he wasn’t there. I glanced over to the bathroom to see the door open and the lights off. “Jonathan!?” I shouted, peering into mom’s bedroom as well. I came back out into the living room, raising my arms in a shrug when I looked at Billy. I peered out of the curtains and into the driveway to see that his car was gone. I hadn’t even noticed when we pulled in because I was too worried about Will. “You’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me,” I grumbled. He snuck out, leaving Will home alone while knowing damn well that he hadn’t been himself lately. I glanced down at my watch, it was half past midnight. “Go get in bed, bud.” I sighed. “I- uh… I don’t… I don’t want to be by myself.” He murmured, staring up at me with teary eyes. I nodded knowingly, “I’ll go get your blankets and we can sleep on the couch, okay?” He presented a half smile, “Sit down, I got it,” Billy whispered, giving me a gentle push towards the couch. I followed his order, sitting beside Will who threw his legs over my lap and leaned on my shoulder, closing his eyes. Billy returned with Will’s blanket and put it over the boy before sitting down beside me. I let out a sigh as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Sorry about tonight. We can go out again later in the week.” “Don’t worry about it.” He soothed, running a hand through my hair. “You don’t have to stay.” “I know, but I’m going to.” I let out a contented hum as I leaned against his shoulder. Dating Billy came with a couple of things that I had anticipated. One was possessiveness. Which could be seen as a bad thing from those on the outside of our relationship. We were working on it, though. The other was protectiveness. He never let me meet his family. And the second he felt that I was even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he sprang into action. Whether it was telling somebody off or decking them in the face. The number of times he wanted to beat up Jonathan couldn’t be counted on all of my fingers and toes. Luckily, I managed to talk him down. No need to prove to Jonathan that Billy was exactly who he thought he was. Though he was initially only protective over me, it stretched out to Will as well, after I told him the version of events that could be read about in the papers, anyway. The boy who was kidnapped and experimented on for MK Ultra. He didn’t mind the nights we were supposed to spend together being cut short by my having to go home to take care of him. Or the times Will would knock on my door and reluctantly ask if I could go sleep in bed with him when Billy was there. I struggled to stay awake as I leaned against Billy’s shoulder, my eyelids growing heavier as I watched him flip through the TV channels. His hand carding through my hair didn’t help the situation either. Will had passed out with his head on my shoulder, breath falling against my neck, leaving me stuck on the couch.

“Just go to sleep.” Billy murmured as I lifted my head off of him. “No… I gotta stay up fo-” I interrupted myself with a yawn, “Stay up for when Jonathan comes back.” “Why?” “So I can kick his ass.” I exhaled. “You’re not gonna be kicking anybody’s ass unless you get some sleep.” “Mmm gonna kick your ass if you let me fall asleep,” I warned, snuggling tighter against him. “Okay, good luck with that.” He chuckled, his chest vibrating as he did so. I awoke later to the front door opening. The TV had long since turned to static, the weight of Billy’s head on top of mine told me he had finally passed out too. “Sorry.” Mom mouthed as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her as silently as possible. “Is he okay?” She mouthed once again, pointing to Will. I nodded, not wanting to explain to her what had happened yet. Her eyes darted over to Billy and I could tell she wanted to scold me for letting him spend the night, but she didn’t dare wake Will while he was getting some rare and much-needed sleep. I closed my eyes once again, listening as mom got ready for bed before I drifted off once more. *** I awoke later in my own bed, Will tucked in beside me with his back towards me. I figured Billy must’ve carried me to bed before he left. I glanced over at the clock to see that it was seven in the morning. Beside the clock was a note from Billy, See you later, love B I let out a yawn as I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and headed into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. I got out a glass and filled it up from the tap, jumping up to sit on the counter as I sipped on it. I glanced down, there was an envelope with my name on it. I raised an eyebrow, clearing the rest of the letters off the stack to pick it up. The return address came into view. Purdue University. My heart started to beat faster. I had been so busy with worrying about Will recently that I forgot that I sent in an essay as an application for a scholarship. I drew my lip between my teeth, shoving my finger under the flap of the envelope and tearing it open. I took a deep breath as I pulled the letter out, keeping my eyes shut, Dear Miss Byers, we are happy to inform you that- That was all I had to read before I threw myself off the counter and started jumping up and down excitedly, letting out a squeal. Will came into the room, flying around the corner, “Are you okay? Is there a spider?” He asked, “No! Will! I got accepted for a scholarship!” I announced. A grin grew across his face as he tugged me into a hug, “Awesome!” I did a victory lap around the house, bouncing up on the couch and holding the letter up over my head, letting out another shriek. I continued to read down the page, I was one of five finalists for the scholarship. A full ride to Purdue. A college that I would never be able to afford without financial help. Not only was I a pick for financial help, no. I was in the running for a full, four-year scholarship. Their phone number was at the bottom of the page with directions to call to set up a time for an in-person interview. I ran over to the phone, yanking it off the receiver and dialing the number with shaking hands. I stuttered through making the appointment. The high from my scholarship was quickly forgotten as the next few days went on. Will got progressively worse. From having a plummeting body temperature to frantically drawing a massive map in crayon to being rushed to the hospital after collapsing into a seizure after Hopper was found in the tunnels. Hopper himself had been attacked by… well… god knows what they were. Vines with a mind of their own, I suppose. He had been taken off to be hosed down and get all the radioactive material off of him while Will was rolled up to his hospital room. He screamed in pain as if his whole body was burning. They immediately prepped him with an oxygen mask before taking him out of sight. I stayed behind with Mike who threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. I placed my hands over my mouth as tears sprang from my eyes, “He’s gonna be okay,” Mike reassured. The boy had grown to be taller than me over the past couple of years, enough so that he could rest his chin on top of my head as I threw my arms around his waist and gripped him with all my strength. “He’s strong.” “I know.” I breathed out shakily. Will’s screams faded as he was taken further into the hallways of the hospital. Mom had been allowed to follow the doctors and Will while we stayed on in the lobby with Bob. Hopper had also been taken to be evaluated and to check radiation levels after he’d been in the upside down for a day or so. I had just about fallen asleep on Mike’s shoulder when Dr. Owens returned to the waiting room. Mike and I both sprang from our seats, scrambling to Will’s room. He was asleep in bed, oxygen mask still on. Mom sat beside the bed with a cup of coffee in her hands and a blanket draped over her shoulders. “Hey.” She breathed, offering me a weak grin. “He’s been sedated to ease the pain, he might be out for a couple more hours. Then we can assess what happened.” Dr. Owens explained, “I’ll give you some privacy, Hopper should be out of containment soon.” “Thank you.” Mom breathed. Will’s face was pale to the extent that I could see the blue veins that peered through his skin. His eyes were sunken in, an eerie gray shadow trailed down his cheeks. His lips held a slight blue tint as well. If it weren’t for the machines beeping and monitoring his heart rate, anybody who saw him would think he was dead. I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was icy cold, stinging my hands that had been warmed by me anxiously wringing them together while waiting for any news about him. I glanced over at mom, “They say he’s stable. That maybe it’s an effect of the radiation he was exposed to.” She murmured. She and I both knew damn well that there was something the lab wasn’t telling us. It couldn’t just be the radiation. Radiation didn’t cause these symptoms. With the threat of the nuclear arms race and the Cold War, the effects of radiation poisoning had been drilled into the brains of everybody with a television set. It didn’t cause seizures or plummeting body temperature or memory loss. This was something else. Something else was wrong with Will. I glanced at my watch to notice that it was nearly three am. I wasn’t sure how anybody else was still awake, I felt my eyelids grow heavier and heavier. “Go to sleep.” Mom sounded from behind me. “I wanna be up when he wakes up.” I sighed, stretching out and trying to get my muscles to wake up a little. “Doc said it’ll be a couple hours, just go to sleep.” I nodded, resting my head on the pitiful excuse for a mattress that Will was laying on, my hand still clutching his. The beeping of the machines began to lull me to sleep only to be awakened what seemed like only minutes later by the screech of the alarm on my watch. “Shit.” I hissed under my breath, making everybody in the room turn to look at me, “I have a scholarship interview. I’m gonna have to call and reschedule.” I reached for my purse, pulling out my wallet, “There’s a payphone downstairs, right?” I asked, glancing over at Hopper and mom who had been here many more times than I had. “Y-you can go.” Will stuttered, making my heart jump in my chest. I hadn’t expected him to be awake yet, “No, bud. I’m staying here with you.” “It’s a full ride, Y/N. This might be your only chance.” Will croaked, throat dry from the tubes they had shoved down it a few hours earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll find another way.” “Just go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He offered me a weak smile. I stared at him with apprehension, not wanting to leave him here. But he was with Hopper, Mom, and Mike. A few of his favorite people in the world, “Okay, I’ll see you when I get home in a few hours, yeah?” I held out my fist for a fist bump which he returned. I leaned over to press a kiss to the top of his head, doing the same to mom before waving to Mike and Hopper and heading out the door. I stopped in the waiting room to grab a cup of pathetically weak coffee before getting into my car. I let out a sigh as I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. My hair stood up in all directions, it hadn’t been washed in the past couple of days. I ran my fingers through it in an attempt to smooth it down. ****

“Miss Byers?” A woman called my name. I glanced up to see her in a pencil skirt and overly poofy blouse. She pushed her big, red-framed glasses up on her nose as she took in the sight of me. The knees of my jeans were torn and stained with mud from when we found Hopper in the tunnels under Hawkins. I still had dirt under my fingernails and days old makeup smeared across my face. I showed her an apologetic smile as she led me back into an office. Several well-dressed men sat at a conference table, at the head of it was an empty chair which the woman directed me to. One of the men had the most hideous tie I had ever seen. It looked as though a toddler on psychedelic drugs took a box of crayons to it. The other had strikingly white teeth despite the black coffee he was drinking. The last of them had a mustache that looked like a squirrel was perched on his lip. The woman took a seat adjacent from me, crossing her legs and looking at me expectantly. My heart raced, pounding so hard I was sure every man in the room could hear it over the ticks of their watches. “H-hello. I’m uh… Y/N Byers… Sorry, I uh… look…. Like this. I had a family emergency right before I left and didn’t have time to uh… clean up any.” I stammered, feeling tears stinging in the back of my eyes. I sniffled slightly and cleared my throat in an attempt to clear them away before the questions could start. “I’m sorry to hear that.” White Teeth broke the stiff silence, making me let out a sigh of relief. “Would it happen to have anything to do with what you wrote about in your essay?” The woman chimed. “Uh… yeah… My little brother.” My application essay was supposed to be about the most impactful moment of your life. And, of course, mine was about the most horrifying week of my life. The week we thought my little brother was gone. “Well. I must say. That story certainly made you stand out from the other applicants. If it hadn’t been for the constant news coverage, I don’t think we would’ve believed it.” Hideous Tie spoke up. “So, you said that you want to study both journalism and criminology? Tell us about that.” Squirrel-stache said. “Yeah… Uh… Well… To be honest, before what happened to Will, I had no clue what I wanted to do. But… the reporters we talked to were terrible and invasive. I just… want to be somebody that can be supportive in a situation like that.”

“When you say terrible and invasive?” “They each had some different, disgusting theory as to how it happened. Some were trying to paint it like it was somehow the fault of my mother. That because she’s a single mom that she’s negligent and that’s why Will went missing. Other’s tried to blame poor police work. Or the fact that my father was an abusive drunk. I guess it was everybody’s fault other than the people responsible.” Squirrel- stache shuffled his papers, looking over some of his notes for a moment before looking to the other men in the room. “I’m going to be quite honest with you, Miss Byers.” He began, making my chest tighten, “I had my mind made up that you were the best candidate for this scholarship before we even met you.” The knot in my chest loosened as a smile tugged at the corner of my lips, “Your story is so compelling. The way you wrote it was beautiful. And, seeing you here today, looking the way you do. And this is not meant to be taken into offense, but to see that you care so much about your family that you showed up to a scholarship interview with dirt all over you. That shows commitment.” “Oh. Uh. Wow… I… I don’t even… I don’t even know what to say. Uh… Thank you. ” I huffed, a breathy laugh bubbling up in my throat. “I’m going to have to discuss it with our higher-ups, conduct the other interviews. But I can tell you now that your chances are very good.” As quickly as I was ushered in, the woman led me back outside, “Expect a call in a few days.” She smiled as I left. Once I was in my car, I burst out an excited screech, bouncing up and down in my seat as I beat on the steering wheel. I drove down the road for a few hours until the rumble in my stomach grew too loud to ignore. The McDonald's drive-through called my name, so I ordered a coffee and a biscuit before getting back on the highway for the drive home **** I let out a sigh as I turned into the driveway, but my relief quickly faded when I noticed that mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. And the front door had been left ajar. I threw the car into park and scrambled out, flying up the steps. Before I reached the top stair, I noticed somebody laying on the floor in the entryway. As I got closer, I recognized it as Billy. He was sprawled out on his back on the floor, “Billy!?” I shouted, scrambling to crouch down on the floor beside my boyfriend. He groaned and tried to roll over onto his side but he gave up and flopped onto his back once again. “What the hell happened!?” I screamed, resting my hand on his cheek and taking in the sight of his bloodied nose. “Mmmmm stab me.” He murmured. “What? Stab you? Why would I stab you?” “No…. stabbed me.” “Somebody already stabbed you?” “Mhmm.” “Who? Where’d you get stabbed?” I gasped, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way to see if the red fabric was camouflaging any blood. “Max. Neck.” “Max stabbed you in the neck?” “Mhmm.” “With what?” I glanced up to notice a syringe with a needle sticking out of it sitting on the floor. I reached for it, looking at the printed label that had been stuck on the side. I recognized the name as something that had been given to Will to help his anxiety before but in an exponentially higher dose. “What the hell?” I murmured under my breath, staring down at Billy who awkwardly lolled back and forth in an attempt to get up, “Hey, hey. This is some strong stuff, okay? You’re gonna be down for a little while.” I told him as I rested my hand on his chest to stop him from moving. I got up from my place beside him and grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, placing it under his head. “Mmm hurts.” He hummed, placing his hand on his head and rubbing it. “Yeah, I’m sure it does. I’ll get you some ice.” I offered. I made my way into the kitchen, stepping over the broken plates and glasses that were scattered on the floor. I figured it better to not ask Billy what the hell happened, he wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to be talking. I yanked open the freezer, letting out a scream. The head of some creature spilled out. Billy scrambled into the kitchen, “What happened!?” He slurred, stumbling into me and nearly knocking me over. He rested all of his weight on the counter behind me, barely able to stay on his feet. I pointed to the freezer, “What the hell is that thing?” I grabbed a spatula from the drawer, poking the creature in the face and waiting for a response. Drool dripped from its mouth and dropped onto the floor with a splat. “It’s…. Uh…. I don’t…. I don’t know…. I think it’s dead, though…” I murmured. It looked like a small Demogorgon, it had the same face that looked like a blooming flower. But why the hell was it in my freezer? “Alright, come on, let’s get you on the couch,” I told Billy, hooking my arm under his and all but dragging him back into the living room as his weight grew heavier. I slumped him on to the couch, making him lay down before throwing the blanket over him. My first thought was to call Hawkin’s Lab to see if Will was still there. But the phone rang and rang, nobody answered. The next thought was to call the police station and see if Hopper had checked back in since I last saw him at the hospital. “Hawkins Police Department. If you’re calling with an emergency, please hang up and dial 911.” Flo’s monotone voice came through the phone. “Flo, Flo? Is Hop there?” “Is he ever here?” She retorted. “I’ll take that as a no. Do you know where he went?” “Last radioed in two days ago, sweetheart, haven’t seen him since.” She responded. “Thanks.” I sighed, hanging the phone back up just as headlights flashed in the driveway. I ran into the living room and out onto the porch, staggering down the steps and towards the car which I could now identify as Billy’s Camaro. Both doors slowly opened, revealing the faces of Will’s friends. “Will!? Where’s Will!?” I shouted as the kids approached the house. “He’s on the way home. With Nancy and Jonathan and your mom.” Mike replied I ushered them all inside before I glanced over my shoulder to see Steve’s face. It was beaten bloody and bruised. One eye was nearly swollen shut, “Steve, oh my god!” I gasped, running over to the lanky boy, “Oh my god, your face, what the hell happened!?” “Ask him.” He nodded towards the Billy where he slept on the couch. “Billy did this?” I gasped, “Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t believe he would-” “If you weren’t so far up his ass, you would’ve known he was a piece of shit!” Jonathan blurted from behind Steve, announcing his arrival. “Pot calling the kettle…” I grumbled under my breath. “What?” “Did you just… forget about beating Steve up last year or?” I quipped. “That’s different! Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you’re comparing the two!” He shouted at me, “Your boyfriend is a fucking maniac!” “Don’t you dare fucking start with me, Jonathan!” I screamed back, “You were gone for days! We didn’t know where the hell you were. Turns out you were with Steve’s girlfriend! And Will was having flashbacks again! At least Billy was here for that!” “Then he tried to beat up a child!” Jonathan fired back. “What!?” I shouted, turning to look at Steve. He nodded his head, “Grabbed Lucas by the collar, pinned him up against the bookcase.” Billy let out a groan, sitting up, “What the hell is all the yelling about?” He grumbled. Jonathan barreled over to him, throwing his fist into Billy’s cheek. Lucky for Jonathan, Billy was still sedated. “Hey!” I screamed, grabbing Jonathan by the shoulder to yank him back. He turned around, giving me a shove backward, “What the hell is your problem!?” I snapped. Billy had managed to rise to his feet, “Don’t fucking touch her.” He growled, raising his fist and throwing a weak punch at Jonathan, missing his face and bumping him on the shoulder. “Billy, sit down.” I hissed. Jonathan started to raise his fist once again, but Steve intervened, “Alright, alright, knock it off!” Steve shouted, putting himself between Jonathan and Billy, despite being on the losing end of fights with both of the boys. “Steve, this isn’t your problem.” Jonathan snarled. “It became my problem the second that damn thing in the freezer tried to eat me.” He retorted. “You know, Steve did more to help than you did.” Jonathan spat, “You were fucking useless this whole time!” “Useless!? I came home the night you snuck out to see Will on the porch by himself having another one of his visions! He could’ve frozen to death out there, wandered off into the woods all because you wanted to go behind Steve’s back and fuck Nancy!” “Y/N?” A hushed voice came from behind me. I spun around to see Will, his hair slicked to his forehead with sweat and deep bags under his eyes. I brushed the locks from his face, gripping his cheeks, “Are you okay?” I breathed, examining his face. His eyes were sunken in, dark bags accentuated by the fact that his skin was so pale. He nodded. I rested my forehead against his, letting out a shaking breath as I hugged him, “I... I think he’s gone.” He whispered. “He?” “The shadow monster. I think he’s gone.” “Good… Good.” I exhaled. “How was your interview?” He asked, his throat scratchy and dry. I let out a breathy laugh, happy tears springing up in my eyes. Will’s first concern was never himself, he always worried more about those around him. Despite everything he had been through, he was asking about my college interview. “It went great, bud. They really liked me.” “Good.” Will beamed, wrapping his arms around me. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, not minding the fact that he was covered in sweat. The only thing that mattered was that he was safe. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He announced, looking up at me with his doey green eyes. I ruffled his hair, sending him off towards the bathroom as I turned my attention back to Steve. “Steve, let me get you cleaned up.” He nodded, sitting at the kitchen table while I grabbed a wet washcloth and the first aid kit. When I returned, I gently wiped away the dried, caked blood. I was hoping that it would reveal clean skin, but instead, it uncovered more bruising. I carefully peeled off the rainbow bandages that the kids had haphazardly slapped on. I furrowed my brow, biting my lip, “What happened?” I whispered, “With Billy.” “He… uh… came over looking for Max.” Steve began, wincing occasionally as I continued to run the cloth over his skin. I hissed out the occasional sorry under my breath in response. “He looked pissed. And I was worried about her… so I lied and said I didn’t know where she was.” “Uh oh.” “Yeah. Uh oh.” He agreed, shaking his head slightly, “He got in the house, saw that Max and Lucas were here. And he grabbed Lucas and slammed him up against the wall.” “Jesus,” I muttered, looking behind Steve to see Billy once again passed out on the couch with a now melted bag of ice on his face. “Lucas kicked him in the balls.” “Go, Lucas.” I smiled to myself. “Billy threatened him again so I punched him… and then.” He pointed to his face, “And Max… she saved my ass, that’s for sure.” “Stabbed him in the neck with a tranq!” Dustin chimed in from the living room, “It was badass!” “Yeah, then she almost hit him in the dick with Steve’s bat!” Lucas added, clearly proud of his new crush. Steve and I both laughed. Though, he winced when his grin tugged at the gash on his lip. Mike had sat down outside the bathroom door while Will was taking a shower and getting rid of all the sweat. El took the spot beside him, head resting on his shoulder as she drifted off to sleep. The strength all of these kids held never failed to astound me. Once his skin was clean, I replaced the bandaids with butterfly closures. I opened the freezer, once again jumping when I remembered the Demogorgon was in there. “Why the hell is there a Demogorgon in the freezer anyway!?” “Demodog!” Dustin hollered, “And it’s an incredible scientific discovery that has to be preserved!” “It’s cold enough outside, can’t you just… I don’t know… bury it in the snow or something?” “And have the coyotes come and eat it? I don’t think so!” I let out a defeated groan, pulling the last of the ice cubes from the tray and dumping them into a plastic baggie before handing them to Steve. “Maybe we just need to bury your face in the snow,” I commented as I watched him struggle to figure out where to put the ice. I got up from the chair and wandered into the living room. The kids were all sat on the floor, mindlessly flipping through the TV channels. “What’re we gonna do about him?” Dustin asked, giving Billy a gentle kick to the thigh. He groaned in response, rolling over so he was facing the back of the couch. “Billy.” I pestered, jostling his shoulder, “Hey.” He groaned again, swatting at my hand, “If you get up we can make out.” I offered, earning a chorus of 'ewws’ from the kids. But he responded to my offer, getting up off the couch. “You can’t drive home tonight. Come on.” I told Billy, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into my bedroom. It didn’t take much for me to shove him down onto the bed. “I don’t want you here in the morning. Got it?” I snapped, “Baby-” “No. If you’re here in the morning, I’ll do much worse damage than the kids did. Understand?” “Yes.” I turned on my heels, slamming the bedroom door shut behind me. When I returned to the living room, mom had brought out all the extra pillows and blankets in the house and set them on the living room floor. The kids got arranged in their respective spots, saving the space on the couch for Will when he was done in the shower. Steve settled himself on the floor to the side of the kids, burying his face in a pillow. I couldn’t even imagine the headache he was going to wake up to in the morning. Despite the excitement of the evening, the kids all fell asleep rather quickly, all of them slumping over into a heap in the middle of the living room. A tangle of limbs and hair as soft snores escaped their lips. The bathroom door opening made everybody perk up, though. Will emerged in clean PJs with damp hair that clung to his forehead. He smiled at the sight of his friends passed out on the living room floor, stepping around them to get onto the couch. The second his head hit the pillow, the boy was asleep. With everybody home and safe, I too drifted off, feeling relief wash over me for the first time in a year.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove/reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fan fic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #I'm with queue to the end of the line #yeah it's me don't queue your pants

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simplegift96 · 6 years

Text

Of dances and second chances

My SNS secret santa gift to @naruhinaluvrx. I am so, so sorry that this is about a week late! Things got a bit too hectic the past month and before I knew it, Christmas snuck up on me without me having anything to show for it. I pretty much got free reign over this so I really hope that you enjoy it!

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

~~oOo~~

May, 2007

“Hi! I’m Naruto. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“Hey, kid, do you have a name?” Naruto asks once more, scratching the back of his head. Is he deaf or what?

“You realise that you and I are the same age, right?” The other guy scoffs before turning back around to listen to their camp counsellor.

“So, you did hear me!” Naruto grins, folding his arms in front of his chest. “So do you have a name or not?”

“Tch, idiot.”

“Tch, idiot,” Naruto mimics, turning back to the front of the room.

“Alright, guys, I’ll just do a quick roll call and all of y’all can head off to your rooms, okay?” The camp counsellor calls out, quickly gathering everyone’s attention.

“Have you gone camping before?” Naruto questions, tuning out the camp counsellors and turning to the nameless guy beside him again.

Silence.

“Ouch,” Naruto remarks, tuning back in just in time to catch the last few names on the roll call.

“Sasuke Uchiha.”

“Here,” the guy beside him calls out.

“Naruto Uzumaki.”

“Here,” Naruto answers faintly, turning back to the guy from earlier. “Sasuke Uchiha, huh? Nice to meet you.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto paces back and forth in his dressing room. To say that he’s nervous would be an understatement.

“C’mon, Naruto. You’ve done this before. You’ve entered competitions before, and you’ve always nailed them. What’s so different about this one?”

Oh, who is he kidding. Of course this competition is different. It’s his first international competition, not to mention that he’s competing against Sasuke-freaking-Uchiha. Sasuke Uchiha. Damn. He hasn’t heard that name in years.

Knock. Knock.

Hinata peeks her head inside. “Hey, Naruto, are you ready?”

Naruto smiles. Never has he been more grateful to have Hinata as his dancing partner. She always manages to calm him down, especially before all their competitions. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

~~oOo~

June, 2010

“Naruto, calm down,” Hinata says fondly, placing her hand on Naruto’s shoulder in hopes of calming down his furious leg shaking. Naruto startles, turning quickly towards Hinata. He gives her a sheepish grin and promptly stops shaking his leg.

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous is all.”

Hinata offers him a small smile. “I know. But you’ve worked really hard for this – we both have.” She takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “No matter what happens, just remember to have fun. Besides, we get to meet other professional competitors! Maybe get their autographs, or tips from them!”

Naruto laughs. “You’re right. This is a great opportunity for both of us. Oh! Do you think we’ll get to meet Haku and Zabusa Momochi!?”

Hinata lights up, clasping her hands together. “I hope so!”

“Oh! Here’s our train!” Naruto exclaims, quickly standing up and gathering both his and Hinata’s luggages.

“Naruto, slow down!” Hinata laughs.

“C’mon, Hinata, we’re gonna get left behind – oh, sorry!” Naruto apologises, turning towards the stranger.

“Tch, idiot.”

“Hey, I said I was…,” Naruto trails off, staring dumbfoundedly after the stranger. No way. It couldn’t possibly be him. But it’s been three years. There was no way that Sasuke –

“Excuse me, sir!” Naruto starts to call out before a hand grabs his attention.

“Hey, Naruto, I found free seats over here,” Hinata informs him, pointing to the opposite direction of where the stranger – no, Sasuke. It’s definitely Sasuke – is headed.

“I’m, uh, yeah. I’m coming,” Naruto stammers out absentmindedly, looking back once more at where he thought he’d seen Sasuke head off. But when he turns around, Sasuke had already disappeared.

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

It’s been seven years since then. He hasn’t seen neither hide nor hair of Sasuke Uchiha. Well, at least not in person, and certainly not in as close a proximity as back then. Heck, he and Sasuke aren’t even living in the same countries! The last Naruto has heard of the three-time Professional World Ballroom winner is that he’s off living the time of his life out in France, while Naruto is still stuck in Oregon. But, whatever. It’s not like he cared about him or anything. Sasuke is the first to cut off any sort of contact with Naruto after all, not that he still holds a grudge against that or anything, but a little heads up would’ve been well appreciated. Instead, Naruto is left waiting patiently for Sasuke’s next message. Naruto just… waited, and waited, and waited… For several months, Naruto waited patiently for Sasuke’s next message, until his mom sat him down and told him that maybe Sasuke didn’t want to contact him anymore.

At first, Naruto couldn’t understand it. Why would Sasuke suddenly stop messaging him? They’re, well, they were in a relationship together, and they had promised to keep in contact with each other no matter what. But after a few tentative messages, Sasuke just… stopped. No warnings, no preludes to it – nothing. Naruto didn’t understand it. Oftentimes he would replay what he said in his texts, taking apart each word that he wrote down, trying to pinpoint where, exactly, he went wrong. But he’s no closer to an answer now than back then, all those years ago.

He just… He just misses Sasuke. He misses him so, so much.

~~oOo~~

May, 2007

“Hey, Sasuke, are you coming to bonfire night tonight?” Naruto asks, excitedly, bouncing up and down on his spot on the floor beside Sasuke’s bed.

“Probably.” Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “Besides, knowing you, I’ll probably get dragged out whether I want to or not.”

“You bet your ass, you will!” Naruto grins unabashedly, pulling a small, soft smile from Sasuke. “You’re such a boring homebody that as your best friend, it is my duty to make sure you socialise and not give in to your inner vampire.”

“Tch, who says I haven’t gone full vampire yet?” Sasuke challenges, marking his place on his book.

“Well, you haven’t tried to drink my blood yet, so I’m pretty sure! I’m pretty irresistible, after all.” Naruto smirks, gesturing up and down his body.

“Uh-uh,” Sasuke replies, turning back to his book.

“Hey, I so am! If you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be able to resist taking a bite out of my veins, ‘cause I’ve got the tastiest blood out of everybody here!” Naruto boasts, puffing out his chest.

Sasuke puts down his book once more and regards Naruto intensely, making Naruto shift self-consciously at his spot on the floor.

“What, bastard? Why are you looking at me like that?” He demands.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that I wouldn’t mind tasting your blood at all,” Sasuke casually says, turning his attention back to his book.

“Wh-What?” Naruto sputters. “You can’t just say stuff like that out loud!”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“’Because’ what? Isn’t that exactly what you were saying just a minute ago?”

“Well – yeah. But that was different!”

“How?”

“Just – they just are!”

Sasuke hums. “Whatever you say, idiot.”

“Hmph! Bastard.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto grips Hinata’s hand as they stand side-by-side awaiting the final results. They had managed to snag second place; a feat that is amazing in and of itself, considering that it’s their first ever competition. Naruto places a soft, chaste kiss at Hinata’s temple, sighing in relief. Hinata giggles in response, taking their shared hands and swinging it back and forth gently, her other hand gripping the flowers that’s been given to her.

It’s over. The competition is finally over, bringing with it about forty percent of Naruto’s worries and tension. The other sixty percent, however…well. The other sixty percent is standing less than five feet away from him and – damn. Naruto almost forgot how breath-taking Sasuke is. His mere presence demands attention; from his elegant poise to his striking eyes, none would dare take their eyes off him. Naruto isn’t sure if they even could – he certainly couldn’t.

“And the winner is Anko Mitarashi and Sasuke Uchiha!”

The two winners approach the centre stage with a sense of self-confidence and pride that Naruto isn’t sure he could ever achieve. He watches them receive their medals and trophy, acutely aware that he’s glaring holes into their sides, which is totally uncalled for. He’s happy with what he’s won, with what he and Hinata have won. It was more than he could ever hope for, entering a competition as big as this. Next year, he’ll be even more ready, work even harder and succeed in taking the trophy home. Next year he’ll swipe that arrogant smirk on Sasuke’s face that he’s directing towards… him… Wait, what?

Naruto shakes his head profusely. Sasuke couldn’t possibly be – but he is. He really is. Sasuke is looking straight at Naruto with a look of barely veiled contempt, haughtiness and sadness…?

Does he… does Sasuke remember Naruto? After all these years?

~~oOo~~

July, 2016

“Naruto, be careful!” Kushina berates him as he attempts to walk upstairs using his crutches. Naruto rolls his eyes in exasperation. Ever since he accidentally broke his leg all those weeks ago, his mom has constantly been fussing and fretting over him. Honestly, it’s getting a little suffocating.

“I’m fine, mom. I’ve gone up the stairs, by myself, plenty of times before.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!” She scolds him, even as she hovers by the stairs until he has reached the top landing. Naruto loves his mom, he really does. But sometimes, he wishes that she doesn’t baby him so much. He’s twenty-four years old now, for crying out loud. He can handle himself.

“I can hear you muttering over there!”

Dammit. He’s forgotten how good her hearing is.

Naruto carefuly manoeuvres himself onto his bed, elevating his injured leg with a few pillows, and then supporting his back with a few more pillows. Frankly, he has more pillows around him than he thinks there is in the house. He wonders briefly where his mom got them from.

He props his laptop onto his lap and proceeds to scroll through the latest news. Because of his injury, he couldn’t compete at this year’s World Dance Championships. As a result, Hinata also backed out of this year’s competition, being Naruto’s partner. He shakes his head self-deprecatingly. He feels guilty at having taken this chance away from Hinata because of his own stupidity. He’s worked so hard to reach this point, and only to what? Throw it all away because a stupid injury? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He continues to scroll through the news, excited for everyone involved, but ultimately frustrated at not being able to join them, before he stops at the picture of, surprise, surprise, Sasuke Uchiha. The article says that he’ll be competing at the World Dance Championships for the third time with his new partner, Temari Suna.

New partner, huh?

Naruto wonders what happened to the previous one, or the one before that, or the one before that. Sasuke never seems to keep the same partner for more than a year, constantly flitting about from one new partner to the next. Is this some sort of a challenge for Sasuke? Is this him challenging himself with new partners every single year? Not that it makes much difference. Sasuke has brought home the trophies for the previous two years, and would undoubtedly bring home this year’s trophy as well.

Naruto takes a split-second to debate re-watching Sasuke’s previous dance performances, before he inevitably pulls up his favourite dance performance and settles in to watch.

Sasuke is… well, breath-taking. Otherworldly. Beautiful. Throughout the years, Sasuke only seems to grow more in grace and stature. To Naruto, he’s unreachable, and it’s hard to believe that they were once playing in the same field.

But Naruto is nothing but persistent, and he is determined that next year, he and Sasuke will be in the same stage once more. He swears it.

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto only takes a moment to question his decision before he heads to Sasuke at the far corner of the room. He’s been contemplating talking to Sasuke ever since the end of the competition; ever since Sasuke stared at him with such intensity that all of his previous memories with him are brought back in stark clarity.

His hands are shaking; his palms are sweating; he can’t do this. He can’t… he can’t do it.

Instead, Naruto changes course and heads out into the balcony of the two-storey building. He would rather be alone with his own thoughts that risk facing Sasuke and not have him remember Naruto at all. He would only make a fool of himself.

He sighs in frustration, carding his hand exasperatedly through his hair. He takes a good, long sip from his champagne flute before setting it down at a nearby table. His hands are too unsteady; he might end up dropping the glass, and that would be another thing he’d have to worry about.

“Naruto, are you okay?”

Hinata. Wonderful, wonderful Hinata. His second love and confidant. He isn’t even sure how she knew where to find him, or that he would need the comforting presence of another, but, really, he shouldn’t be so surprised. He and Hinata have known each other for so long now that they practically share the same thoughts together. He wonders where it all went wrong, wonders why his heart didn’t pursue Hinata with the same fervour as Sasuke. After all, it’s Hinata that stayed with him all these years. It’s Hinata that remained patient with him after he became hung up after Sasuke cut his ties with him.

Despite all this, he knows that it would’ve been unfair to Hinata, and to himself, if they remained in a relationship together. She deserves someone better; someone who would cherish her with all their heart; someone who wouldn’t remain hung-up after someone they met at a summer camp ten years ago.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m fine,” Naruto answers her after a moment of silence. He cards his hand through his hair once more, messing it up even more – really, his hair is a lost cause anyway, so why not muss it up just a bit more?

“I just… I didn’t realise that it would feel like this, y’know? That seeing him again would make me feel so…” Naruto gestures vaguely, searching for the right word.

Complete.

Yeah, that’s the word. Sasuke makes him feel so whole and complete. It’s such an odd feeling to have, and one that he didn’t think he would ever feel again. It feels like a void within him is being filled once more, and it’s addicting. Naruto isn’t sure what would happen if he leaves tonight without having, at least talked to Sasuke. Maybe he’ll recover. Maybe he’ll be okay. One thing he knows for sure is that he won’t be the same again.

“I really,” he starts again, “I just really want to talk to him again. To ask him why he left me all those years ago, y’know? Maybe if I get that closure, then maybe… maybe I can finally stop being so goddamn obsessed over him,” he nearly growls in frustration.

“Naruto…” Hinata begins, but Naruto ploughs on anyway as if he hasn’t been interrupted.

“And what’s his damage anyway?” He lets out, his voice growing in volume. “Who the hell just promises to be with someone, promises to persevere, no matter the distance, and just… doesn’t!?”

“Naruto, I think you should…” Hinata tries again to no avail.

“Did I do something wrong, Hinata? Was it me?” He asks desperately, finally turning towards her. “Was he lying to me all those years ago when he said that he loved me?”

“Oh, Naruto…”

“I just,” Naruto sobs, fitting himself within Hinata’s embrace, unable to continue anymore.

“Shh,” Hinata hushes him, soothing his back as he sobs, and sobs, and sobs, uncaring for who might see. “It’ll be okay.”

~~oOo~~

July, 2007

“Hey, Sasuke.”

“Hmm?”

“What happens after?”

“…”

“After what?”

“Y’know, after camp ends. You live on the other side of the country from me. And it’s not like we can afford to see each other that often…”

“We’ll still keep in touch.”

Naruto turns to look at Sasuke.

“Hey, Sasuke… Thank you.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“For being you.”

“Stop being a sappy idiot and just lie back down on my lap.”

Naruto grins, settling back on Sasuke’s lap. They stay in silence for a while, Naruto counting Sasuke’s breaths and timing it with his own until he feels his eyelids droop down. He snuggles closer towards Sasuke, letting out a huge yawn before letting sleep stake its claim.

“Hey, Sasuke… I love you,” Naruto whispers.

“Idiot… I love you, too.”

~~oOo~~

October, 2017

Naruto and Hinata decides to spend the rest of the after-party out in the balcony. They recall memories from the past as Naruto rests his head on Hinata’s shoulder while Hinata runs her fingers through his hair. It’s nice and comfortable. Naruto nearly forgets about why they were outside in the first place.

When it gets too cold for either of them, they decide to head home. The part is still in full-swing inside, with most of the dancers out on the dance-floor, jamming it out to whatever hip-hop song is playing. Normally, Naruto would be out there, dancing to his heart’s content. But not tonight. He’s too spent to think about doing something as strenuous as dancing.

The pair nearly makes their way out the front door before a hand grabs a hold of Naruto’s arm, effectively stopping their movement.

“Naruto.”

Speak of the devil.

“Can we talk?”

Naruto turns at the request.

“Sorry, Mr. Uchiha, but my friend and I really ought to be going home right now. It’s getting fairly late.” With that, Naruto turns back towards the front entrance and resumes his exit. But Sasuke is persistent, his grip on Naruto’s arm tightening marginally.

“Naruto… please.” And, well. Naruto couldn’t really say no to that.

Sasuke leads Naruto into a secluded place at the back of the building, his grip on Naruto’s arm never letting up until they reached a back alley. Sasuke lets Naruto go, only to start pacing in front of him. Naruto remains silent. If Sasuke wanted to talk, then he’s going to have to talk first.

Naruto crosses his arms in front of him, patiently waiting for Sasuke to stop his pacing and finally talk to him.

Moments pass. Then moments turn into minutes. For all Naruto knows, he and Sasuke could’ve been out here for hours, with no hope of Sasuke actually speaking.

Naruto is a patient man. He can wait this out – He refuses to be the one to break. He is patient. He’s got patience in bucket loads, after all. He can keep his cool….

…Fuck it.

“Are you gonna start speaking anytime soon or did you just want an audience for,” Naruto gestures vaguely towards Sasuke, “whatever it is you’re doing right now?”

Sasuke makes a noise that seems to be a cross between exasperation and defeat before facing Naruto once more and just… staring at him. Seriously, Sasuke needs to stop doing that. It’s getting unnerving at this point.

Naruto tilts his chin up in defiance, refusing to back down.

“What do you want?”

Sasuke hesitates for only a second, “You.”

“…”

“…Y-you can’t just -! You can’t just say things like that after not seeing someone for over ten years -!” Naruto sputters indignantly.

“Naruto, I… I screwed up. And I missed you.” Sasuke breaks eye contact, making to start pacing again before seeming to stop himself and opting to look towards the ground instead.

“No. You can’t just… you can’t just say that after ten years of no contact. You cut off ties with me, remember?” Naruto does his best to glare at Sasuke, but he couldn’t keep it for too long. He’s angry; pissed beyond words, but he’s finally getting what he needed. Maybe this will finally be the closure that he needs to move on.

“I… things got complicated on my end. If… if you give me the chance, I can explain everything to you.” Sasuke tugs at his hair. “I know that it’s my fault. I’m not stupid, and this?” He gestures in the space between them. “This is something that I haven’t forgotten; couldn’t forget.”

“Sasuke,” Naruto tries again, desperation colouring his voice. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want for you to give us a chance again. Another shot at what we once had. I know that it won’t be the same anymore, but, god, Naruto. I want you back so much that it hurts.”

Naruto turns away. He couldn’t… he couldn’t bear to see that look in Sasuke’s eyes. It’s a look that he knows all too well from staring at the mirror. But could it possibly be that easy to rekindle whatever it was that they had? That they might still have?

“Naruto, I…,” Sasuke hesitates. “I’m staying at the Hilton Hotel downtown. If… if you want to, uh, to talk.” Sasuke stays for a second longer before turning on his heel and working back towards the front.

Naruto didn’t move for what felt like the longest time. He feels cold and numb. Sasuke just… he just up and offered him everything he ever wanted and he couldn’t just accept him back in his life. He doesn’t know what the matter is with him but… Naruto sighs. He just needs more time.

~~oOo~~

June, 2007

“Sasuke, can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Naruto shuffles closer to Sasuke, his pulse skyrocketing to dangerous levels. He can do this. He can definitely do this.

“What did you want to talk about?” Sasuke asks, tugging Naruto to sit beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“Um,” Naruto gulps. No, Naruto, focus. You got this. “I just, I just want to say that I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

“Mhm, go on.”

Naruto sputters, moving to get up from the couch. Sasuke only tightens his hold even more, making Naruto sag in defeat, snuggling closer to Sasuke and unconsciously seeking Sasuke’s warmth.

“Don’t be a bastard, bastard.”

Sasuke laughs, low and comforting. “I love you, too, Naruto.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, bastard.” Naruto smiles. “And I want to spend more time with you.”

“Aren’t we spending a lot of time already?” Sasuke asks gently, softly.

“I know that, but I meant… I want to spend more of my years with you, as your boyfriend.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d – I’d like that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

~~oOo~~

November, 2017

Knock. Knock.

“Naruto…,” Sasuke says, his face showing something akin to tentative hope.

“Hey, Sasuke. Can we talk?”

#sns secret santa 2017 #sns #fanfic #simplegift96 #naruhinaluvrx

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trashpandaorigins · 6 years

Text

Sweet Child of Mine Ch 4

As a fanfic writer I cannot express how much comments mean to me! These fics do take an exorbitant amount of time to write with flash fics taking me anywhere from an hour to two hours and longer fics taking three hours to five or six. I write for free and all I ask is comments/feedback in return when you like and or reblog!

——–

Contrary to what one may assume, Drax the destroyer did not like seeing innocent people in pain. The only people he did enjoy seeing in pain were his victims and his victims were not innocent. So when he saw Groot whimpering in his pot, staring at his missing arm he shouted,

“Who has harmed smaller Groot? I will tear them limb from limb!”

“That would be Star-Freak!” Rocket yelled, frantically setting Groot’s pot down in their common area. The flora colossus still looked forlorn at the burtn edges of his shoulder but he had stopped crying.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Gamora asked, punching the button on the Milano which closed the hatch.

“N…no,” Peter huffed, looming over Groot. Drax shook his head. Rocket only waved a hand dismissively.

“We got the alkaline too then?” Peter pulled it from his pack.

“Good. I’ll set us on course to Nowhere.” Without another word she left them.

“Shit…is he okay?” Peter’s eyes looked over Groot with fervor.

“Apart from his missing arm he is fine.” Drax surveyed.

“Why did you attack me? Rocket I could’ve dropped him all together!”

“He was scared you dumb ass!” The enhanced raccoon did not turn from watering the little tree. “He’s always been a scardy cat and he didn’t like being hoisted down in there!”

“I did stuff like that all the time when I was little!” It burst forth from him before he could say. “This was nothing! Do you know how many times Yondu put my life on the line?!” Peter watched Rocket’s lips pull back in a teeth bearing threat though he still didn’t turn around. “I must’ve broken my arm a thousand times!” Memories of loud noises and shaking ground came back to him in a torrent of unease. “Groot came back after he was blown up! This is just his arm….now look I feel really bad about it Rocket, I really do but…” Yondu’s harsh bravado shouted in his mind.

“What the hell is wrong with you boy?!” Peter gritted his teeth and looked over the mammal’s shoulder. Groot seemed to be no worse for wear, his occasional moans made the human’s stomach go in knots but it could’ve been worse right? “You nearly got us all killed!” The blue alien had screeched when they were back on the ship. At thirteen years old, this was his seventeenth mission out in the field with Yondu’s crew and at least his hundredth time getting injured. Years later Peter could still remember the excruciating pain he felt. Looking at Groot’s sad little face brought it back.

“Yeah he can regenerate you dumb-ass!” Rocket whirled on him, though his gun stayed strapped to his back. “He can regenerate when he’s full grown but this has never happened to him before! I don’t know how long it will take him to grow his arm back, who knows if he even can!” The reddish-brown eyes narrowed in a contempt that Peter was momentarily immune to. The husky voice of the ravager berated against his skull.

“You damn idiot! How did you turn out so stupid?” He could see Yondu shake his head in dismay. “Knew I should’a let em’ eat you.”

“….my arm hurts…” his voice so small Peter himself could scarcely remember it. He could, however, remember the pain that came after when Yondu turned on him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He remembered the blue ravager ordering their surgeon to check him out and the haphazard sling. Kraglin coming and checking on him a few nights later when he was crying in the ship’s bay. Peter’s childhood began and ended with his mother, his adolescence thrown together by Yondu and his crew and whatever job they were on.

“Just…let me know if he needs anything,” Peter called over whatever threats Rocket was yelling. With a wave of his hand he turned his back and made his way to the pilot’s chair.

“How’s Groot?” Gamora asked after some time. He sighed, already imagining the lecture she had in store.

“I think he’ll be okay after a few days.” He watched her nod and stare out into the galaxy ahead of them.

“We need to be better,” she said quietly.

“What do you mean?” He stole a look at her, frowning down in her lap as she expertly navigated the ship in the co-pilot seat.

“With Groot. You said it yourself he’s a child. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like…” Peter huffed.

“What like me?”

“No.” She cut him off, glaring at him. “Like all of us.” Responsibility. One of his mother’s favorite words. He could almost smile at it. But like all of us? What was she getting at? Whatever it was, Gamora declined to elaborate.

“We’ll get the alkaline to the collector and then we see about getting Groot healed if he hasn’t regenerated already.”

“Of course.” Peter nodded, thrusting the ship forward. The sooner they got in and out of Nowhere the better in his mind. In the blackness of space Peter could see the ravager ship clearly in his mind. There’d only been one time during his own messed up childhood when Yondu had actually cared for his safety. After a failed robbery attempt in the Tristone Quadrant.

“Peter!? Stay still!” The tight coil around his head went tighter. The alien woman held him with an inexplicable strength. Yondu stood before him, frozen in place. Peter squirmed for the life of him but there was no other conceivable way of escaping. Sweat ran down his arms and legs, he tried to cough through the smoke but the suction of the tentacle that held him sucked all breath from his body. Peter could still recall that fear. The same fear he only now realized had been in Groot’s eyes. This…insert item here…is worth more than me? Why didn’t he recognize it sooner?

“I’ve become him….” He laughed.

“Who?” Gamora inquired. He tilted the Milano to the left, avoiding an asteroid.

“Yondu.” But if he had become like Yondu in his neglect and utter dumb-ass misguided parenting, (if you could even call it that,) …then maybe I can practice the good parts too…he recalled watching Yondu in his mind.

“Make one move and the boy gets it!” The fire-squid woman threatened. Peter’s wide eyes had found Yondu’s fear and for that split second, that terrifying moment he could see Yondu’s fear, his helplessness and something else he couldn’t quite place. He got out of it eventually, when Yondu had charged head first towards the monster, and had come out worse for wear because of it.

“It’s alright,” Yondu’s big warm, calloused hands carried him back to the ship. “Ain’t your fault boy,” that’s all he kept repeating. “It ain’t your fault.” He’d dropped Peter off, handing him to the crew and went straight to lay down. Peter shook his head, trying to dispel the memory.

“Yondu wasn’t all bad,” Gamora’s voice brought him back. “You’re here aren’t you? If he was really as bad as you make him out to be, you wouldn’t be here at all.” He shrugged, it was easiest not to think about it.

“Let’s just get to the Collector.” She nodded and thrust the ship forward.

“Do not trouble yourself small friend. Infants are stronger then they seem. One time my Kameria…”

“Shut up! I don’t care about your stupid kid!” Drax bristled. Rodent. He isn’t worth it. “Little Groot will be alright. Give him a few days.” He watched the strange squirrel creature rattle off a list of profanities while the small tree in question finally fall asleep. Kameria got into all sorts of trouble he recalled with bittersweet memory. There was the time she almost got her hand bitten off by a Razator, the time she fell off that ledge and other time she got roughed up by that other boy on the playground. He’d pulled her hair and she broke his jaw. He’d been so proud.

“I did it papa!”

“Good girl! You must never show mercy to those who wrong you.” He hugged her tight to him, her scent of wind blown hair and open fields, of dirt and a hint of sweat and sunshine.

“He pulled my hair really hard, see?” She pulled her blonde hair out of the way to reveal her scalp. Drax could still remember looking fine. Well…now that he thought of it there was bit of irritated redness. “So I had to punch him really hard just like you showed me!” Kameria made a fist, pudgy fingers curling inward. She stuck her thumb inside to protect it and jabbed outward, hitting his chest squarely.

“Ouch!” Drax recoiled, keeping her steady in his arms and watched her blue eyes go wide as orbs.

“Oh papa I’m sorry!” That did it, he deflated with laughter.

“I’m only kidding little bug!” The look of disappointment made him grin wider. “But I won’t be for long!” Her giggle in his memory was a choir of light. She wouldn’t be alive for long. Happiness mixed with sorrow and Drax sighed, breathe the pain out. It was something he learned after the first kill he made. When all the adrenaline drained out of him and he only had his grief left. He hoped every day that he gave Kameria a good childhood, but he would ever know for certain. He watched Groot sleep, the tiny stub of burnt bark at the end of his shoulder showed no sign of regrowth. He swallowed the stab of worry. The same flavor of anxiety he had whenever Kameria got hurt. Something about the feeling filled him with a small amount of…happiness? No, familiarity and a soundness in feeling such.

“How much longer till we reach Nowhere?” Rocket growled, sitting on a makeshift stool, he leaned over on the table looking over the small plant.

“I would guess three leaps at least.” The varmint sniffed irritated.

“Great.” Drax frowned,

“How is that grea…”

“Sarcasm.” He nodded, pretending as hard as he could that he understood. Rocket only glanced at Groot in his pot one last time before trudging off to work on some unknown project.

“You are leaving him unsupervised?” Drax could not believe the foolishness leaving an unattended child alone. An unattended hurting child.

“He ain’t a baby! He was scared but that don’t make him a child!” Drax frowned, how could the varmint be so confused. I thought he was at least an intelligent animal. Rocket didn’t elaborate, only cursing until he was out of sight. Groot’s good arm hung limply, head lolling. Drax felt the Milano glide soundlessly through the stars. Odd. Quill usually plays music. There was no music tonight. He glanced around and only then approached the plant.

“….I do not know why.” He sat, little Groot breathed deeply, eyes moving beneath his wooden lids. “You remind me of her.” He shook his head at the strangeness of it. Why? He mulled over it while sitting, waiting, watching. There was nothing he could do to help the little Groot, but he could at least sit to be there when he woke. He used to do the same when Kameria was first born and although this brought him no solace from his grief, it did seem to soothe his spirit. Drax the Destroyer needed little rest he would stay and watch the plant. He was not good at understanding the words of others. But he understood their actions and inactions. Groot slept and he observed. He was good at that.

“I got it Gams,” Peter said after awhile. “You can go sleep. It’ll be awhile before we reach Nowhere. Maybe check on Groot?” She was sure the plant was fine. She had to believe he was. I did nothing to protect him. Never have. She only nodded and made her way to her own quarters, spying Drax along the way. He sat diligently, his eyes now softly looking over the tiny tree. All seems well, in her room Gamoa slid the iron door shut. Wringing her hands she sat on the edge of her bunk, hands folded and head bent. We have to make sure he is not raised. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like us. Like me. She sighed, ignoring the aching in her own metal implants, one of the more memorable pieces of her own childhood. Before Thanos she was sure there was something. She knew he killed her parents, she remembered that. She remembered their deaths and watching out the window of the ship as all she’d ever known until that point was destroyed. But for the life of her, she could not remember the intricacies of her upbringing before Thanos. No favorite food, no happy nights reading stories with her mother, or walks with her father. Even Quill had music at least. She had screams and silence in the rooms where Thanos trained her. No one deserves that upbringing. No one….not even Nebula. Gamora strode to her lifting weights. Ten, fifteen, twenty…thirty, fifty pounds. With a heave she lifted, her core burning as the hoisted the beam above her head. Her feet planted firmly into the floor. The aching pain vibrated through her, giving her a focus for her thoughts. She bent her arms, the pain changed slightly, then lifted again. Up and down went the warm strain of muscle and machine inside her. When fighting and keeping up her strength the two parts of her worked in tandem quite well. Whenever else, they were a contradiction, a dark reminder that Thanos’s power would always be inside her. No matter the ends to which she used it. It was there. Fifteen more times she lifted her weights, adding five lbs each time. Then she spared, then cleaned her weapons and burid herself deeper in distraction. Only when she was sure that no one else was up did she come to the common area and found herself smiling at the little flora colossus sleeping form. “He’s still asleep?” Drax nodded, she moved to sit beside him and watched as he scoot over for her. Smiling she looked at Groot.

“Get some rest Drax, it’s been a long day.”

“This day is no longer then any other.” Gamora explained and he smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s alright.” He stood,

“Thank you.” The rare frankness in his eyes made her grin. “…and thank you for assisting me today in our fight. You are a worthy companion in battle.”

“Thank you Drax.” He nodded, sparing a moment to gently caress the top of the sleeping Groot before leaving. In the stillness Gamora watched the baby tree.

“I’ll never let what happened to me, happen to you.” She vowed with as much seriousness as if she were vowing to a full grown companion. “Today I failed in that duty and you were hurt. I will not fail you…” the image of his spores, yellow and calm filled her eyes. The serenity as they fell, his deep resonating voice. “I will not fail you.” As if on cue Groot blinked his eyes awake. He looked up in her in confusion for a few moments, only to smile and reach for her hair. He tugged gently, producing a laugh from her. “You aren’t in pain any more are you?” He only tugged her hair again and made a squeak of joy. Little thing is going to make me go soft. She thought, not all too ashamed. They played until even the assassin’s eyes grew heavy and Groot again began to doze off, one miniature wooden hand grasping her finger. “And Rocket say’s you’re not a baby.”

These. Flarking, Compressor. Coils. Rocket tried again, just as he predicted the turbines on the Milano were getting all gummed up. The inner workings of the thrusters were also shabby. Cheapskate. He added it to the list of reasons he was gonna shoot Star-Mooch in the leg one of these days. Sighing the mammal continued his work at a frantic pace. Working with the motors kept him from thinking about how badly he’d already failed his promise to do a better job being Groot’s partner. He whirled the coil around and cut it short, trying to attach it to the main converter. He ain’t a kid. He’s still Groot. Still my Groot. Rocket’s mouth watered for alcohol, any drop of it, but they hadn’t landed anywhere in a while long enough for him to stock up. No one else was up, he knew that much from the lack of noise about the ship. Even Gamora who normally stayed up the latest was now asleep. Rocket worked, snipping, tucking, and manufacturing the thrusters on the Milano, improvising wherever he had to. Groot ain’t a baby…ain’t a child or anything else but small and he’s going to grow…Rocket didn’t know what a childhood was. He had a vague scent-based memory of something warm and musk smelling. He always assumed it was his mother. But beyond that single smell Rocket could only remember chemicals and iron and plastic. He never had a childhood, he had the process by which he was made into what he was now. Some little monster. He knew patronizing very well, he knew what it was to be delegitimized, infantilized. Reduced to a freak or a fluffy pet and Groot was none of these things. No matter how tiny and helpless he was for now. Rocket inspected the last of the turbines, making last minute tweaks and only after testing them did he go to the engine room. He spotted Groot along the way. In his pot, one limb missing. It made him recoil with guilt. He ain’t a kid….he’s just…growing. He’s still my Groot. Isn’t he?

#sweetchildofmine #rocket #groot #baby broot #my writing

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