#and they need someone to lead them on shaky legs back into the light

[eats-the-stars]

pleased that my new workplace passed a test i have called: can i take off on this day I was scheduled to work?

answer was yes, which sounds like “of course they would say yes that day is like 2 weeks out” but the thing is, it was not immediately followed by “as long as you can find someone to cover your shift.”

however, this day IS part of the weekly shift I agreed to cover during the holiday season, so it is NOT part of my normal shift schedule, and technically qualifies as an extra day. so...this is just, like, test part 1. still happy my workplace passed, though

#work stuff #i am a little paranoid because i used to work in a restaurant so u can imagine how understanding they were about time off #which was not at all #my call center job was a bit better because they gave me a set number of sick days and were like 'do not be sick more than this' #but like i do get sick more than 3 days a year i am sorry but i do not have the immune system of a god #if there are ppl out there who do not get sick more than 3 days a year i do not believe you are real #for real tho whoever designed my immune system did not know what they were doing #but yeah so far i am happy with my new job so i kind of have this feeling like it's too good to be true? #like i am looking for the catch but i also don't want to find it #normally the biggest 'oh no' is 'i have to deal with customers' #and then there are a bunch of smaller rib jabs and shin kicks to follow up the big customer gut punch #but this job...no customers #sometimes one wanders down into the basement and peers wide-eyed into the machine floor like a startled deer #but i do not need to talk to them or acknowledge them in any way we all just bustle around doing our jobs like nice little worker bees #until someone takes pity and scuttles off to inform the supervisor that a real life person wandered down into our domain #and they need someone to lead them on shaky legs back into the light #but yeah the pay is good by my standards #the number of hours i work a week on my normal schedule is good #they asked me to work an extra shift and cover some scattered days for ppl who were sick or had appointments #but i felt like i could easily say no to all those #and i did say no to a few days w/no issue #partly as a test but also if i was busy that day #so yeah...no problems with the job so i am like 'where is it?! where is the problem?!' #hopefully a problem will just not manifest and my gut will accept that in time

[elsweetheart]

what friends are for.

🎀 i hate this. words can’t describe how much i hate this. my worst work. it sounds rushed and corny and like a 14 year old on wattpad wrote it. but if i don’t post it it’s a waste of my time and efforts, so enjoy.

abby was your best friend.

you honestly didn’t really have anyone else. you went on patrols with her, you hung out with her 24/7, you had cried to her, laughed with her, everything. to be totally transparent, the lines had gotten a little blurred. flirting as a joke was one thing, but sometimes you weren’t quite sure if it was a joke. abby was overprotective, and when she’d touch you, it was hard to ignore the jolt of electricity that transmit through your veins. okay, if she wanted to fuck you and make you hers you’d totally let her. it was the end of the world, right? everyone just wanted companionship. however, you weren’t even too sure if she was into girls like that. you knew she had a thing with owen a long time ago— but she doesn’t really talk about it much, and she doesn’t seem to have had the best experience with him. the way she talked to you and treated you had lead you to believe that maybe she likes pussy. you guys didn’t talk about that kind of thing, all you knew is she’d been with a few people (because she often teased you for only having been with one person, much to your annoyance.)

you needed a distraction. it wasn’t too late, 11PM — and rain was hammering down on your window. you thought you might get an early nights sleep, but that idea was pretty much shot as soon as you started daydreaming. wouldn’t it be nice, to be able to curl up in someone’s warm strong arms on nights like this? to have them touch you all over, stick their hands up your top and feel your nipples get hard beneath their palms. to kiss your neck leaving a cold wet trail in their path. to slip their hand down your panties and rub your clit slowly, no rush, no race for you to cum, just touching sheerly for the purpose of pleasuring you. a hot wet mouth on your cunt, lapping you up, making you arch off the bed, that sounded good to you. infact, you hadn’t even realised your blanket was stuffed between your legs and you were grinding your damp pussy into it until you shook yourself out of it.

this is pathetic, right? you thought to yourself, sitting up. a distraction was what you were after, and you knew abby would be awake. sliding on a pair of thin sleep shorts, ignoring the wetness between your legs, you hurried out into the cold halls until you found yourself at abby’s door, knocking quietly.

“come in.” her commanding voice lead you to turn her door handle immediately. she was squat on the floor next to her gym bag, zipping it up wearing her muscle-tee and black cargos. her eyes softened when she saw you there, illuminated by the light outside like a halo around you. “hey.” she greet with a small smile, turning her attention back to the stiff zip on her bag.

“oh…where’you going?” you couldn’t help but sound a little whiney, hoping you could stay with her and talk until you got sleepy. she stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her thighs, eyes flickering over your form.

“i couldn’t sleep so i was gonna go work out. what’s wrong?” she walked towards you, brow creased in concern.

“oh. i couldn’t sleep and… i wanted to come and see you.” you shrugged. her concerned expression didn’t relent and she stepped even closer, placing her hand briefly on your cheek and then your forehead.

“why do you seem all flushed? you’re not sick, right?” she hummed. you pressed your thighs together, hating the way that even the touch of your incredibly attractive best friend was sending waves of arousal through you. you let out a shaky sigh and gently pulled her hand from your grasp.

“more like frustrated.” you mumbled, walking over to sit on her bed. you wasn’t even sure why you had said it out loud, you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to— but you couldn’t take it back now. you tensed up, trying to think of a way to change the subject as she watched you, you didn’t want her to ask you what you meant. she closed the door, the room now only lit from the bright moonlight shining through her window— it was a wonder how she got any sleep at all, the moon creating similar amounts of light to a street lamp.

“frustrated how?” she came and perched on the bed beside you, braid tossed over her shoulder when she turned to look at you, eyes glancing to your thin shorts as you played with the hem nervously.

“i—ugh, i don’t really know why i said that.”

“why do you feel frustrated?” she rephrased her question, nudging her strong arm against yours slightly and ignoring your denial of your statement. you bit your lip, thinking for a moment before bringing your hands to your face, giggling into them.

“i think i… do you ever feel like… i just need to get laid, abby. so bad.” you laughed, avoiding eye contact as you downplayed it. you were two best friends talking right? no need to make it weird.

abby was nodding slowly as if she understood and you turned to look at her to see if she was laughing too. she wasn’t. her eyes raised from your thighs to look into your own eyes, serious in nature like she always was.

“and that’s why you’re here right?” she asked casually, like it was nothing. your smile dropped as you stared back at her wide eyed. did she really just suggest that?

“oh! i um, i don’t know i just came here because—well because i couldn’t sleep and i wanted to get my mind off things and—and—" you rambled, stopping to swallow thickly, feeling like you couldn’t breathe from the way she was staring at you. she exuded confidence, and something in her eyes was a little darker today making the burning between your thighs intensify.

“so you don’t want my help?” she asked, eyebrows raised a little as if unimpressed with your whole demure act. you said nothing, eyes drifting down to her mouth as you pictured all the things she could probably do with it. your teeth sunk down into your bottom lip, eyes wide and needy as you nodded. why lie? you wanted her.

“poor thing, go lay back on the bed.” she nodded towards her headboard and you blinked at her.

“i thought you were— i thought you were going to go work out.” you gaped. she scoffed with a chuckle as she stood up to adjust her cargos around her waist.

“fuck that, much rather be here. you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?”

you were in shock. how was she so casual about this? had you totally misunderstood your entire friendship? how long was she going to let this go on? how long was she going to pine after you knowing you needed her?

“you’ve wanted to… touch me?” you clarified. you were aware that you sounded pathetic and shy but it was impossible not to feel that way beside her.

“yeah, just wasn’t sure if you were down. you are down, right? don’t wanna make you do anything.” she froze in her tracks, looking you over.

your gaze centred in on your fingers where they nervously played with one another.

“think about you fucking me all the time.” you tremble. she smirks, bending down to eye level with you.

“lay back on the bed then, pretty girl. like i told you.” there was an edge to her voice, one that said ‘don’t let me catch you not listening to me again.’

you scurried back, piling her pillows on top of eachother so you were elevated and laying against it, knees pressed together. she came and sat before you, placing her hands on her knees and spreading them gently. you shivered, unable to believe how willing your best friend was in this. she stared between your legs, and you realised she was looking at the wet patch from your slick, soaked through the pyjama shorts.

she said nothing, just reached her fingers into your waistband and began tugging them off. you shyly went to close your legs again, but her hands grasping the back of your thighs held them apart, licking her lips.

“pretty, just like i thought you’d be.” she comments, watching the way you clench around nothing. “and you’re fucking soaked too. were you touching yourself before you came to see me?” she exasperated, thumbs sliding either side of your pussy, spreading your lips open as she admired you. you whimpered at the gesture, your legs relaxing and you spread them a little wider before clearing your throat— trying to bat away the fogginess slipping into your mind to converse with her.

“mmph— not— not quite.” you admit and she glances up at you, sliding her thumb oh so casually through your wetness collecting the slick.

“no? what were you doing?” she asks, pushing her thumb through your folds once more — just avoiding your clit each time making it throb, desperate for her touch.

“had—uhm— had my blanket between my legs, was rubbing against it.” you flush all over and she feels it, the heat almost radiating off you. she pouts almost in sympathy, not even bothering to make eye contact with you as she strokes your folds gently.

“cute.” she comments, playing with you just gently enough to tease you and not give you what you need.

“does that make me totally weird?” you sigh out, not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to keep up conversation when she’s toying with you like this as you arch your back off the bed— hinting to her that you wanted more.

“not at all. just need your pussy fucked, no shame in it beautiful.” she comments, low in her throat like she’s talking to herself and finally, finally she pushes her thumb up to rub your clit, massaging it in circles. you whine, relaxing your spine a little more as you grind your hips up slightly to meet her thumb. “that’s it. tell me what else you need.” she demands quietly and your eyes flutter open.

“want a kiss.” you shudder weakly before you can even stop yourself, like you were so desperate to have her all over you that your mouth was on autopilot.

“gladly.”

she leant over you, her torso pushing your thighs up to your chest and attached her mouth to yours without a second thought. she continued rubbing you, hand stuffed between your bodies letting you use her for your pleasure.

fast forward 20 minutes, abby had her hands beneath your ass lifting your hips off the bed all the way to your mouth as she ate you like you were her last meal. in the low light your slick was practically luminous, catching the light from your inner thighs, her mouth and chin, quietly groaning against you as she savoured the taste of you. you came hard again, on your third orgasm of the night and abby slowly set your hips down on the bed, letting you recover.

she rubbed your thighs affectionately with her hands, pressing sloppy kisses around your abused cunt and thighs as you twitched sensitively, panting and wiping your tears shakily.

“m’sorry abby. bein’ so greedy.” you hiccuped in reference to your insatiable needs, abby continuing to pleasure you until she was sure you were satisfied. she leant over you between your open legs, bringing her mouth to yours, kissing you slow and nasty. her tongue massaged the taste of your own cunt into your mouth making you whimper weakly.

“nothing to be sorry for, baby. pretty pussies should always cum. just need a little help, don’t you?”

abby was the best friend a girl could have.

♡

#ugh like the concept was so good and i fumbled it #next time ‼️ #abby anderson smut #abby tlou2 smut #abby anderson prompt #abby anderson hcs

[cellophaine]

Purified

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Shower sex – unprotected sex, creampie.

Author's Note: You won't see any of the Daredevil suit in my Kinktober (not that it's bad) because I believe in BLACK SUIT SUPREMACY 😤🙌

GIF credit: @daredevil---love

Propping yourself on your elbow, you blinked slowly as the movie before you came to an end. The credits rolled, and you didn’t feel any more sleepy than you did two films ago. You heaved a long and weary sigh, adding another sleepless night to your mental scoreboard. Prescribed pills helped, but you didn’t want to depend on them too much like you used to. Nevertheless, what you had switched to was far more addictive. Or rather, someone else. 

How ironic.

The door to the rooftop opened, making way for heavy and unhurried footsteps to descend the stairs. The treads bowed under the added weight, creating creaky sounds all the way down. You sprang up from the couch and met Matt at the bottom of the stairs. The neon light from the building across covered him in a sheer lustre of blinking colours, revealing just enough of the blood splattered on his neck and the bottom half of his face. 

Matt was breathing hard while you kept yours as quiet as you could. It wasn’t out of fear that he might hurt you but of anticipation for what he wanted from you. An embrace? Some means of release? Bandages and ointment? Silence and comfort? Whatever it was, you were always happy to provide.

Matt had made up his mind when he crossed the remaining distance between you, pulling you towards him. Your lips clashed in a dance, gentle but fervent, full of desperation. To be closer, to be consumed whole. To feel the gentle friction instead of the blunt force of skin on skin. To forget.  

You were worried for him but allowed yourself to go with the flow for a moment. He was here with you, his heart beating thunderously underneath your palm. Matt didn’t seem to be injured with the way he rushed to rid of the black suit. You helped him peel the shirt off his back, which was drenched with sweat and damp blood. Your hand reached for the belt while he worked to remove the satin nightgown you wore. You tugged his pants down, making the makeshift batons clatter onto the floor. Matt stepped out of the pants, and you took him by the hands, leading him into the bathroom.

You turned the light on and took him in fully under the fluorescent light. He was panting hard, his breathing shaky, his lips swollen and red, his eyes wide and unblinking. The specks of blood decorated his skin was smudged, and your gaze moved down to find no major injury to your relief, just some bruises. You stared at where you connected to see the crimson stain on your and his hands. You didn’t have to say anything, and neither did he. You knew what he needed. Leading him into the shower, you turned on the water, letting it fall on the warmer side. 

Standing under the spray, Matt let you gently scrub away the evidence of the night. Your hands washed away the sweat and dirt in his hair with his unscented shampoo, the grimes and blood on his skin with your soothing body wash. You smoothed your palms over the bruises when Matt dipped his head to nuzzle your neck. You held him close, kissing his wet shoulder, letting him know he could take the lead. Matt lifted his head and sought your lips out. You eagerly responded to his need with all you had, feeling lightheaded in the steamy room. The kiss was a pure primal need, and you clung to each other as if you needed the other to breathe. You tugged at his hair, earning a deep groan from him. Matt moved to kiss your jaw, descending onto the column of your throat, sucking hard on your pulse to the point where pain and pleasure blended together. 

His hands braced at either side of your thighs, and in a swift movement, he picked you up. Your legs wrapped around his slim waist, your arms winded around his shoulders for balance. Matt wasted no time, lowering you onto his aching cock. The stretch drew a harmony of unrestrained moans from your throats, and you stayed like that for a moment when he finally bottomed out. Your heart was pounding, your walls clenched around his length. Matt groaned at the snug fit and needy squeeze, taking a deep breath and focusing not to come right then. 

After a long moment, his hands moved from your thighs to grab your ass, moving you up and down on his cock. You tried to assist him with small swivels and grinds of your hips. The room was steamy from the running water and your shared breaths, tangling in an intricate web of moans and cries. 

Matt pressed you to the misted tiles on the wall and began to set at a brutal pace. You clung to him as a fresh wave of pleasure hit you; your legs fought for purchase around him. You tilted your head down to pull him into a kiss with the water running over you, between your open mouths. You couldn’t last much longer, and he knew it. His head burrowed into your neck, and his thrusts became brutal, almost punishing. All that came out of you were meaningless babble and pitiful sobs. Your brain had turned to mush; all you could think of was Matt and the feeling of his cock in your tight cunt. It was pure greed, the way your walls held onto him, fluttering around him like he was the only thing that mattered. The only one you had ever known. You screamed as you came, and Matt followed after a few pumps with a broken groan. You held still, feeling the tiles digging uncomfortably onto your back, but you didn’t want his throbbing cock to leave you empty just yet. You tiredly caressed his hair, making him almost purr in bliss. Matt pulled out slowly and gently, making you wince at the loss. You felt the trickle of release run down your thighs, joining the warm water to the drain. He set you down onto your shaky legs but held onto your waist to keep you steady. Still catching your breath, you finally spoke for the first time since Matt returned.

“Are you okay?”

The small smile he gave you was a blessed sight. Matt closed in, pressing a tender kiss on your cheek.

“I’m much better now. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Mm hm. I was waiting for somebody to wear me out.”

He smirked, and the thoughts that followed in your head were sinful enough to make a sinner blush. 

“Oh yeah? How about we continue this in the bedroom?”

Your answer was a breathy whisper into his parted lips. 

“Yes, please.”

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#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #cellophaine's kinktober #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock au #matt murderdock #matthew murdock #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock daredevil #matt murdock smut #matt murdock needs a hug #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil au #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil smut #daredevil mcu #daredevil x oc #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you

[jjtheresidentbaby]

˚. ❝₊˚ 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 .2 ˚₊· | ☽ 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 1

» dean winchester x reader

͟͟͞꒰➳ summary: a second part to demon daycare, dean is trying to make a deal for sam to get revived but he didn’t expect the demon from before to answer his call

» a/n: a while ago @honeylamb-esther asked for a second part to this and I’ve just now gotten around to finishing it

» warnings: demon!reader, little!dean, crying, talk of death & canon typical events, this isn’t supposed to be about a certain death we saw in canon so you can choose when it takes place

You sigh as you turn around, someone summoned you for a soul selling and while you’re fine to write up a contract, it’s a tad bit boring. You’d much rather have a more important job than the run of the mill demon duties, but after you had let the Winchesters “get away” with their angel, the higher ups weren’t too happy, and you doubt they’d be pleased to find out you really let the three go. You couldn’t stomach harming them when Dean was in such a vulnerable state, Castiel and Sam had both thanked you for it by sparing your life so you suppose it’s all okay.

And when you look up only to be met with Dean Winchester himself, you feel that same surge of weird protectiveness in your chest. He looks a mess with red rimmed eyes and a wobbling chin he’s definitely trying to hide. You can take a wild guess that either Sam or Castiel died, or got stuck in some bad situation, that’s the only reason Dean would be so distraught.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” He sniffs and looks away with slightly blushed cheeks, obviously just now recognizing you from your voice.

“I need to make a deal, for Sammy.” The poor thing sounds absolutely miserable, hands shaking where they fidget with the brown coat he has on, it’s far too baggy to be Dean’s own. It’s probably Sam’s, and that makes you feel a horrid swell of hurt for Dean.

“I’ll see what I can do about it, but for now let’s sit before you collapse.” He’s definitely slipped into headspace as his legs are a tad shaky and he doesn’t put up a fight when you take his hand to lead him over to the abandoned couch in the dirt a few feet away. It’s not an ideal place to be, so out in the open, but there’s nowhere else you can go.

“Your Angel friend couldn’t help get Sam back?” Dean slumps his head to your chest once you’re settled on the couch beside him, you reach to run your hands through his hair, hoping to calm him. It’s been a while since you really had to comfort a human- sans that situation with Dean a couple months ago- so you’re not a hundred percent sure if you’re doing this correctly. It’s not an everyday occurrence that a human trusts you so blindly like Dean is right now.

“Cas is back in heaven, said there’s nothin’ he can do.” Tsk, angels, so useless.

“Well hopefully I’ll have more luck. But Dean, you do know a deal means you’ll have to pay your due at some point.” It’s not a question because you know he knows, it’s how he got stuck in hell before Castiel showed up.

“Just want Sammy back.” It’s more of a mumbled slur than a firm statement, not like you’ve heard him so many times before. The Winchesters might not know it but you’ve been around for a while, just silently watching and waiting, you know just how grief stricken they become when the other is gone. It usually manifests as anger, rage filled vengeance that no doubt causes more destruction before they get what they want, not a crying heap collapsed on a demons lap.

“This his jacket?” It’s pulled so tightly around Dean’s frame you swear it has to hurt. He’s holding it like you’ll rip it off his arms and light it on fire, like it’s something to be protected just as securely as he tries to protect Sam.

“Mm, he lets me sleep with it in Baby when he drives.” You hum along and remind yourself not to startle when he curls in further against you, arm curved over your waist and head pillowed on your collarbone.

“You can go to sleep now, we can discuss your deal when you wake up.” Not that you’re even sure if you can get Dean a deal, depending on why and how Sam died, it might be difficult. Nobody in Hell is fond of the brothers and most likely won’t be willing to have Sam topside again.

“M’kay.” You can worry about it later though, for now you just tug Dean in closer and settle back into the couch as you won’t be moving for a while.

#jj writes #supernatural agere #little!dean winchester #caregiver!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester

[differenteagletragedy]

I wrote a smut for Cliff and his MC. Please don't look at me.

It had been a long time -- years and years -- since Cliff had been with someone. So long that he'd forgotten what it felt like to have a warm body meld with his, what it meant to be close enough to another person to completely envelope himself in them.

Earlier that night, he'd been nervous, a classic case of performance anxiety. He was so rusty and you were so perfect, he was so scared that he'd do something wrong and ruin things.

But, as it turned out, his body remembered what to do.

Gentle kisses on his couch after he'd made you dinner turned hungrier, and hands originally placed carefully on waists and shoulders started roaming. Despite his nerves, Cliff wanted this -- wanted you -- so badly. He found himself biting back moans as your hands slid under his shirt over his toned back.

"It's ok," you told him softly, pulling back to look at him. "You don't have to hold back."

He sighed lustily at that, bringing up a hand to knot in your hair and pull you back in for another kiss.

He'd told you everything -- that he'd had a lot of experience when he was younger, then settled down with Kyra when she got pregnant with Cove. How he loved her as a person but was never in love with her, not like he was with you. You knew that it had been a bit over ten years since he'd slept with someone.

Cliff always appreciated your understanding, and he appreciated it even more now as it meant that you took the lead. You stood and grabbed his hands and said, "Show me where the bedroom is, and I'll take care of the rest."

Somehow, with shaky legs and a racing heart, he took you down the hall to his room, opened the door and flicked on the light. True to your word, you grasped his shoulders and backed him up until he was in front of the bed, then you pushed him down.

"Be gentle with me," he laughed, landing back on his elbows. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Is that what you want?" you asked genuinely as you straddled his hips. "For me to be gentle with you?"

His smile turned softer, and he carefully put his hands on your thighs. He slowly moved them higher and higher until the skirt of your dress was bunched around your waist.

"I just want you," he finally answered.

Tentatively, his rough hands gripped your hips, and that was enough for you to pull your dress over your head and toss it behind you. You quickly reached down to find them hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up, not wanting his hands to leave you but needing to see more of him.

With his shirt off, you let your hands move up his stomach and over his chest to grip his strong arms as you leaned down to kiss him again. He let out a low groan into your mouth. You wanted to hear more.

You moved kisses down his neck and across his shoulders as his hands found their way back to your hips. He hesitated a bit with his touch still, so intent on doing things right, but you but your hands over his and tightened his hold on you. For Cliff, this was quite the move -- a signal that you were giving him permission to go further, do what he wanted. A signal he read loud and clear.

He grabbed you harder of his own accord and started grinding your hips together with his. He felt impossibly hard, like any touch could send him flying over the edge, but he still drank in your moans as he moved you against him.

"Cliff," you sighed, and as he watched your brows furrow and heard your breath hitch, all from his movements, he thought he'd come undone then and there.

"Not so fast," you said huskily, pulling yourself off of him. He was close to complaining, but then you put your hands between your bodies and deftly unbuckled his belt.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," answered, rising up on your knees to yank his jeans and underwear down far enough to free his erection. "Are you?"

He nodded.

You'd talked about sex long before having it, establishing that you were on birth control and you were both clean, so without hesitation, you pulled your underwear to the side, far enough that you could grip his length and guide it to your entrance. You sunk down on him slowly, adjusting to his size and allowing him to adjust to the feeling.

The feeling, for him, was overwhelming in all the best ways. He did his best to sear it into his memory so that if anything ever happened, if he screwed this relationship up as badly as he did his marriage, he'd at least remember this. You were so hot and smooth and tight, but beyond that, there was the way that you touched him with such tenderness.

Even after you took all of him in and started rocking against him, you steadied yourself on his chest, careful not to lean into him with too much pressure. When you started going faster, you sat up just a bit and held your hands out -- he intertwined your fingers, and you held on tight.

If he wasn't sure before -- and he very much was -- he knew it now without a shadow of a doubt. He was hopelessly, madly, beautifully in love with you.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity to see all of you, he caressed up your back until his fingers were at the clasp of your bra. After a couple of tries and some sweet giggles from you, he managed to take it off you. He flung it off to the side, then grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down to him. At the angle, he easily took one of your nipples into his mouth.

As with everything else he did, he was sweet and gentle at first. Still smacking your hips down against him, you let him know that he could be rougher if he wanted, and you moaned as he brought down his teeth.

"Is this ok?" he asked, showering kisses onto the swell of your breasts. "Are you having fun?"

You gave a little laugh -- Cliff never really had the slightest idea how attractive he was.

"Yeah," you answered as you moved your hand through his long blonde hair, lifting his head a bit so he could access your chest easier. "This is fun."

Cliff held on as long as he could, but it wasn't a terribly long time before he felt his release coming. In a move that you were beginning to recognize might be a bit of a trademark, he took hold of your hips and started moving you again, this time with a bounce. You sat up to make the task easier for him, and he looked you up and down before meeting your eyes.

"I love you so much," he said.

There were so many emotions evident in his voice. The pleasure, of course, but also a pure joy. Relief at having found you, and gratitude for you accepting him. Maybe a hint of sadness about having gone so long without having felt this way at someone, but that was far outweighed by the bliss at having you with him now.

"I love you too."

Without much warning, he came. You watched as his body jerked under you and listened intently to the short, sharp gasps that fell out of his mouth. Since he was otherwise occupied, you resumed riding him, faster until you were over the edge as well.

By the time the world came back to him, you were lying by his side. Your hand was back in his and you nuzzled up against his shoulder, breathing heavily.

Cliff had gotten a rough start in life, and as he grew things got rougher. He had Cove, the absolute light of his life, but in many ways he'd come to believe that that was all life had in store for him. He wasn't even 30 when he and Kyra had gotten divorced, and he thought that that was what the rest of his life would look like -- pouring all of his love and energy into his son and putting whatever was left over into his business.

Then you came along. And things were different now.

As it turns out, he had more love to spare. And lying there with you, naked and sweaty and spent and just deliriously happy, he thought he might have enough love to spare for a lifetime.

#our life beginnings and always #our life cliff #olba cliff #cliff holden #cliff holden x you #cliff holden x mc #cliff holden x reader #cliff holden smut

[redtaylorsversiongirlie]

real sweet, but i wish you were sober - r. lupin

summary; you tell several nice things to remus, even confess your love to him. but he wishes you were sober.

warnings; nothing really, maybe remus being KINDA an asshole, but we still <3 him

a/n; pt 2

_____________________________________________

you and sirius swayed your bodies to the beat to the music. his hands were on your waist as yours were wrapped around his neck.

people, at the sight of you, would think you two shag on daily basis, but that was not true at all as you both were interested in someone else. and well, sirius's interest was not someone who identified as a woman.

suddenly, you almost fell. you would if sirius didn't catch you in time.

"oh, love, you okay?" he asked.

"ouch," you whined in pain, the leg you hurted leaving the ground. "i knew i shouldn't wear those heels! curse you, black!"

he chuckled. "who would have thought you'd walk so ridiculously in them!"

you glared up at him as his smile faded.

"right," he coughed. "do you want me to help you to the sofa?"

"no, i'll be okay."

"okay," he blew you a kiss and went back to dancing. now he joined mary and marlene.

you rolled your eyes and made your way over to the sofa, where remus was sitting, on one leg and jumping.

"hello," you smiled and sat down, throwing your legs over his lap.

he smiled back. "are you enjoying yourself?"

"i do, yes," you said and then frowned. "but you don't much, do you?"

he took a sip of the beer in his hand. "i'm not really in mood to party and dance."

"wanna dance with me?" you asked hopefully.

"you know i'd love to, bun, but you barely walk. i advice you to go to your dorm and rest. do you want me to help you upstairs?"

you pouted. "but i'm having so much fun! besides, i could get upstairs perfectly by myself without any problems."

"sure you could." he stood up and before you knew it, you were in his arms. he was carrying you upstairs in a bridal style, making you giggle.

he smiled at the happy sound you let out.

you admired his side profile. "you have a very cute nose."

and when he turned his face to face you, you booped it. he furrowed his eyebrows as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. after he turned his face away, you kissed his cheek.

if it was more light, you would see him blushing.

after he walked to you dorm, he walked over your bed, he carefully put you on it and then searched in your wardrobe for something you could wear.

"moony, you're so kind," your head hit the pillow as you put your hands above your head.

he hummed.

he turned to you, now holding an oversized t-shirt.

"do you need help with changing your clothes or are you capable of doing it yourself?" he asked.

you grinned. "at least you're respectful even if you want to take my clothes off."

his eyes widened. "wha– no, i—"

"relax, moony," you took the clothes out of his hands and ruffled his hair. "i would let you do that."

remus was speachless.

he watched you taking off your dress, leaving you only in your underwear. he then looked at his feet instead, because although he knew you wanted him to watch, you were drunk.

you then called his name.

"y-yeah?"

"i'm too pissed to unclasp my bra," you said. remus already knew where this was going. "would you be kind enough to do it for me?"

"uh, can't you do it yourself?

"please?" you showed him your puppy eyes

with shaky legs, remus stood up and walked closer to you. with trembling hands, he reached for your bra and carefully unclasp it. his touch gave you chills.

"thank you, a kind soul."

"yeah," he replied. "you're welcome," he paused. "i can go now, can't i?"

he was about to walk away but you reached for his hand.

"can you stay here with me, please?" you saw he hesitated. "i don't bite."

remus chuckled. "well, i do."

"only once a month," you smiled and lead him in to your bed. you two were now lying next to each other.

you wrapped your arm around his waist and he carefully did the same while keeping his other arm under your head.

you nuzzled your face into his sweather and took in the scent.

you sighed happily. "you smell really nice."

poor boy was a blushing mess. "uh, thanks."

you sighed again, not happily this time. "why are you so oblivious to my feelings?"

his eyes widened as he lifted his head to properly look at you. "what do you mean, y/n? have i done something to hurt you?"

you shook your head. "no," you paused. "i really like you, y'know?"

"i- i really like you too."

you looked up at him, shaking your head again. "you are misunderstanding me. i love you, remus."

"what?

"i fell for you and your stupid charm," you explained, your heart beating fast. "all i want to do is kiss you. is that too muc—"

"you're drunk, y/n—"

"at least i know what i am saying if that's what you're implying to. ask sirius, i told him everything!"

"then tell me again tommorow! those things you said are real sweet, but i wish you were sober!"

you sat up, obviously angry. "don't you get it, remus? i don't have the courage to confess when i'm sober, so don't expect me to do so."

"fine!" he got up from the bed. "then don't.

remus was walking to the door when you yelled,

"fine, i won't!"

with that, he close the door behind him, leaving you alone in the dark room.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders #marauders imagine #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #harry potter x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #moony x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin angst

[coupleoffanfics]

A Good Morning

[Post-Spray Jeremiah x Batsis Reader] This is part two of this.

Ecco checked every hour on y/n. It was six when she regained consciousness, but only blankly stared at the wall and was unresponsive. It was clear to Ecco that she was lucid as she watched her face flicker from one emotion to the other while talking to her. She must have been in shock the blonde woman figured and didn't pester her too much.

Ecco went to the kitchen and started cooking breakfast for y/n. After everything y/n went through yesterday, she must be hungry. It's not every day that someone is forced into captivity. Once she finished cooking, she put everything on the wooden breakfast tray. As she walked towards the guest room y/n was locked in, she looked at little stickers on the tray.

The breakfast tray wasn't Jeremiah's, it was y/n's. She often brought it with her when staying over and it ended up being left here. It had little stickers of colorful, sparkly hearts placed all over the wooden tray. She'd always wake up to make breakfast for everyone. She'd always walked to his room with the tray to find out he was in the study working all night. Leading the couple to argue while Ecco munched on her toast.

Those arguments were light, squabbles really. Nothing serious and voices were never raised. Ecco has a feeling that those days are far behind them now. Not that she blames y/n.

Stopping at the door Ecco knocked before unlocking it. She received no response, but it's not like she expected or needed one. It was just common courtesy to let y/n know someone was entering. When Ecco opened the door she expected to see y/n to still lying on her side in bed.

But was instead greeted by a floor lamp to the face. y/n whacked Ecco with a surprising amount of strength that almost made her fall over. Ecco didn't think she had it in her, it could've been the adrenaline and desperation to get out. The tray was dropped with a thud that was followed by a crash from the glass plates and cup breaking from the sudden impact.

The [hair color] haired woman swung the lap pole at Ecco again, but she grabbed it before it even got close to her. She opened her mouth to say something to y/n. What exactly? She wasn't sure, just something to get y/n stop before she actually had to restrain her. Unfortunately, Ecco couldn't get a word out as y/n kicked her stomach. The force of the kick sends Ecco stumbling into the hallway and pushes her back against the wall.

y/n stepped over the broken glass plates. She wasn't sure if she had stepped on some glass or not. She might have since her legs were a bit shaky. It didn't though, she needed to get out.

Not feeling merciful this morning, y/n gave Ecco another wack across her face with the lamp before running down the hall. Each time Ecco was hit, it felt like it was almost personal because the second had a lot more power behind it. Ecco quickly got back on her feet and chased down y/n. It wasn't hard to tell where she was going because of the little trail of red she left behind with each step.

It wasn't like she got far in the first place. Ecco didn't even have to take her down or anything as her condition did all the work. She was double over having another coughing fit and clutching her chest. Hearing all the noise Jeremiah came out of his study. He gave Ecco a glare before ordering her to get the cuffs while he attended to y/n.

y/n was put back in the room that she had tried to escape from. She wore a defeated face that slightly shimmered with determination through her eyes. As Jeremiah handcuffed her to the bedpost, she thought of what to say but thought silence might be the best option. Just before Ecco could sit at the bottom of the bed to take care of the glass in y/n's foot, he ordered her to leave.

Ecco could practically hear y/n sharply inhale after hearing the words leave his mouth. She almost felt bad for y/n as she left the room. That little determination in those [eye color] eyes shifted to fear.

Jeremiah wasn't harshly holding her leg down as he pulled out the little bits of glass from her sole with tweezers. He wasn't cursing her out, berating her for actions. No, his touch was soft. It could even be called loving though she's not sure that's a word that should be used. Did he love her? She wondered, disregarding their years of dating to remember what happened yesterday. Remembering how just months ago he was normal. He looked normal, he acted normal because he was normal.

That toxin, spray, gas— whatever it was, was the corporate behind this all. They'd promised to never hide anything from one another. So when he fearfully explained how he started having these intrusive thoughts of extreme violence, she tried to book him to a psychiatric hospital. The first time that idea was brought up he brushed it off believing that it was temporary.

Leading her to ask the question, "You would hurt me?" The alarmed look on his face and how he earnestly explained that he never thought nor do such a thing. Of course, she believed him. She used to take his words as gospel. Maybe he did love her at that moment, but what about now?

She almost wished he was yelling at her because she wouldn't have to fill the silence with her thoughts. Just as he started bandaging her foot, she broke the unnerving silence with a question.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He stopped for a moment and gave her a perplexed look as if she asked the dumbest question. She would have felt embarrassed by his reaction, but she felt like this was a legitimate question to ask right now. With everything that had happened, she wasn't sure what to expect from him.

"If I wanted you dead I would have let Jerome have you." His cold voice gave no type of comfort.

"Why are you doing this? I know we–" y/n stopped wondering if he remembered yesterday. It couldn't be possible for him to be blackout drunk, right? He didn't stumble over himself, slur his words, or start a drunken ramble. Maybe just a bit tipsy.

"I was confronting you about your heart failure," Jeremiah said as he put everything back into the first aid kit, "But I should have done this a while ago. We both know that there's a risk each time you go back to Gotham. It's the capital of crime with psychotic people like Jerome roaming the streets. I can't have you being in that hellhole any longer, especially when you're getting worse."

"You could have told me about your concerns and I would have understood. I would have stayed if you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes and snickered, "You would? Forget about trying to prove I'm crazy with the blood test and just stay here with me. Then we'd live happily ever after. y/n, I thought we wouldn't lie to each other." She pursed her lips at the sarcastic tone. Then he suddenly shifted from sarcastic to hurt.

"You've been lying about your health and about how you trust me. You still think I'm insane when I haven't done anything to justify that thinking. I don't what else you could have been lying about. Have you been lying when you say I love you? I know I haven't y/n. I've been the only honest person here."

"No! I- ugh…" y/n threw her head back in frustration. The problem was that he was mostly right. There had been no solid evidence of him being insane until now. The only thing she had at the time was his slight behavioral change. Keeping the fact that she was running out of time because of her heart failure a secret was selfish. She'll admit that and the only reason she didn't say anything was because it was easier to ignore.

It felt better to ignore the sand trickling down the hourglass and act like everything was normal. Ignoring any emotional turmoil must be a Wayne trait. It had worked until the symptoms became more noticeable.

Of course, it had to be the person she cared about the most to find out. She couldn't bring it up with Jeremiah because he was always on the verge of an anxiety attack whenever a door was opened. Then aftermath of the gas made it clear that she shouldn't bring it up. She was the main she he ended up like this. Jerome lured him out by threatening her life and she should have just told him to save himself. She'd be dead in a few months anyway.

There was a burning sensation in y/n's eyes that she tried to blink away. Her heart was pounding harder and she curled in her lips, trying to stifle any sounds because she knew what was happening. It was so easy to upset her with a negative tone. Even if it wasn't directed towards her it still made her a bit upset. Having Jeremiah express his disappointment in her tore her heart.

The first tear didn't have to fall for him to start saying comforting words and having both of his hands hold the sides of her face. Saying the prettiest of lies about how everything was going to be okay and that he was going to take care of everything. Knowing fully well he was lying y/n indulged herself in those lies. It was what she wanted to hear in this distressing moment.

She's not sure, but she's sure she saw him smile a bit. Seeing how much power he has over her must have been amusing. Or it could have been that he was reminded that she really didn't have anyone else to run to. It's always been him and her, and nothing was going to change that.

"I love you," Jeremiah said looking at her with those unnerving green eyes. Any and all semblance of blue was long gone.

He waited for y/n's predictable response. "I love you too." He gave what could have been a genuine smile but it looked too crooked. Anything else y/n tried to say or ask was ignored as he got up and left without another word. Finally being alone y/n rested her head against the headboard and stared blankly at the white ceiling. Wondering what the hell she was going to do.

Things couldn't get any worse.

Feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated. Masterlist

#jeremiah x reader #jeremiah x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #yandere jeremiah x reader #poor ecco she was just trying to be nice to y/n

[ilostmyshoe666]

I want a fic where Steve’s parents are home (for once) after the upside down and Eddie is alive (bc steddie for life lol). I want Steve to have nightmares and for Eddie to be one of the few ppl (him and robs and maybe Dustin if he’s around but he isn’t so he doesn’t know yet or whatever) and robs and ed take turns sleeping over or just having slumber parties cuz they know they can rely on each other(nance, John, sometimes argyle join in when they start to get bad but they usually do their own slumber parties) and it’s Eddie’s turn to make sure Steve is okay (robin is at family gathering). And I just want the parents to be like, yknow suburban stereotype “why are you here” and shit like that being rude (Steve assured them not to worry and finally convinces them to let Eddie stay as long as he’s in the spare). Night falls and Steve is anxious to sleep alone (robs cuddles the touch starved Steve PLATONICALLY SOULMATES to sleep… it’s also for her comfort whilst Eddie sleeps on the floor right by the bed) but he finally starts to nod off and he’s sleeping, but bc of the anxious lay down and such his nightmare is bad, just like the rest, he wakes up screaming and thrashing through his panic attack after the nightmare, grabs the nail bat that’s hidden by his bed (ed and robs try to have Steve keep it away but it’s one of his comforts that he can’t let go of) and holds it defensively whilst still laying down as his legs are too weak and shaky to stand. His parents rush in his dad pissed of and angry thinking Steve’s just acting like a toddler screaming at him until he walks in and notices Steve with said bat shocked, his mother slightly irritated but worried and even more so when she notices how defensive and desperate Steve looks. Eddie rushes in and Steve’s dad tries to push him out until he hears Steve crying out for Eddie or robin, mumbling about them being dead or smth related to the dream so Eddie finally pushes through(or slips through) and ties his hair up to uncover his face(Steve once thought Eddie was from the upside down one time bc he couldn’t see his face, Eddie suggested just cutting it off but rob and Steve argued and stood their ground about his hair so now he just toes it up) and calms Steve down. His parents are confused and just leave it for when morning comes, but then they realize both Steve and Eddie couldn’t sleep afterward and stayed up the rest of the night. Leading to Steve’s parents wonder what happened while they were never home and throughout the week they realize that ed, robin(it was an overnight family trip, she was back the next day) and Steve need to be near each other, that if they aren’t they jump at any small sound, blinking light, or shadow. Also down the road of the confusing week a bunch of children come by and jokingly all tease Steve by calling him ‘mom’ and they realize Steve does his mothers hand to hip stance. That these people need each other and decide to stay longer to see whats happening. His dad mumbles under his breath about how Steve should be with “his kind” and his mom slaps him upside the head whilst telling him to shut it and look how happy their boy is. It’s not a forced smile, awkward laughs and such. It’s genuine care for everyone when a bunch of random teens and kids come in, HECK! They’re scared for a minute when CHIEF HOPPER knocks on the door thinking their boy is in trouble until they notice he’s not in gear and is holding a hot plate of food as well as Joyce telling him to hurry bc the food is getting cold followed by the Byers kids and some random girl that oddly looks like will but also someone they don’t know (and they know EVERYONE in town)…

Ples? Pretty ples? Not all of it just Steve has nightmare parents try to calm him but ultimately fail and Eddie calms him almost immediately offering to call someone named Robin or smth

#babygirl steve harrington #steve harrington #upside down #stranger things #fic ref #fic ideas #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #robin buckley #Steve has a nightmare #nightmare scenario #stranger things kids #steddie #will byers #eleven byers #joyce byers #jonathan byers #byers family #byers siblings #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #robin x nancy #wheeler siblings #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler i know what you are #will byers I know what you are #jane hopper byers #jim hopper #chief hopper

[kvrokasaa]

Intimidating

Includes: Chifuyu, Rindou, Sanzu, Wakasa

cw: cringe, knife, violence, choking, mention of brothels, not proofread, fighting.

1k words

After a few months of dating, Chifuyu thought that it was time for you to meet his friends. He's told you that he's in a gang, but he never wanted you to meet them, afraid of you being targeted because of him.

But after pestering him, always asking, he finally gave in. His fears were still there, but you promised to be safe and careful.

So, here he is now, with you introducing yourself to his friends. Everyone was proud of him, but a few members laughed behind his back. You looked weak, and you looked like you couldn't even hold your own in a fight.

Chifuyu knew that these members would never try anything, because Baji and Mikey would do something about it. Considering how you're most likely Mikey's favorite person now, you did bring him some sweets.

But Chifuyu was wrong. These members weren't going to try and hurt you, but they did whistle at you, say vulgar things.

"Hey sweetheart, why don't you come over here? I bet we could show a better time than the runt." A few of them laughed.

Chifuyu looked down. He knew that he couldn't do anything before you did. After dating for so many months, he knew that you had the strength to put down these men.

You smiled at them, trying to be kind. Maybe they'll stop after you politely decline. "No thank you. I'm happy with Chifuyu."

But they didn't. They just smirked and walked up to you, grabbing you hand and trying to lead you away. But before they even knew what happened, you grabbed the man's hand and pulled it behind his back, effectively putting him in an arm lock. You glared at the man, then kicked his stomach.

The other men widened their eyes, they never expected you to do that.

"What do you think gives you the right to touch me. Do it again and I'll cut off your dick." You leaned closer to his face, pulling his arm back even more which resulted in the man screaming. "Do you understand?"

The man nodded and you finally let go. You smiled again, back to your cheery self. Mikey whistled and looked over at Chifuyu, "I accept. She can keep you safe." He joked. But Chifuyu didn't even hear him, too amazed in the fact that you threatened a man for him.

Rindou sighed, he was tired of following his brother to the red-light district. Even after explaining that he likes someone, Ran still pulled him away, saying that he needs to get over the crush. "You'll ruin the poor thing."

Rindou wanted to agree with his brother's words, but he couldn't help but want you. You're nice to him, something he never got from people because of his reputation.

Ran and Rindou finally get to the district and as they turn the corner to their go-to brothel, they hear screaming.

Rindou recognizes a voice, and his eyes widen when he sees you with your leg around a man's waist. You're holding him from behind, both of you on the ground, a knife around his neck.

"Give it back, or you know what'll happen." The man curses and glares back at you. You press the knife deeper into his throat and smile when he squirms, trying to get away from your hold.

"I said, give the money back." Your eyes and voice are dull, tired of the man not listening. "Do you want to know what it feels like to have no dick?" You give the man a glare, tracing the knife down his stomach.

His eyes widen and gives the money back to you with shaky hands. You smile and let go of him, pushing him away. You turn around and give the money back to one of the brothel workers, "here you go, ma'am, take care."

She bows at you and waves. As you turn, you see Rindou with wide eyes. Ran smiles and pulls him closer to him so he can whisper, "fine, I agree. You can date her. Think I can join though?"

Rindou glares and pushes his brother away.

Sanzu sighs for the nth time. He's been standing in this line for the longest time. All he needs to get is Mikey's taiyaki and he can go back to the Bonten headquarters.

But it seems like everyone wants some today. What a fucking hassle, he thinks.

Finally, after waiting for another ten minutes, he walks out the small bakery and leaves to Bonten's headquarters. Once he gets there, he hears screams and muffled choking. Just another day at work.

But the screams aren't coming from the room where they keep the traitors, or the rats. They're coming from Mikey's office.

Sanzu pulls out his gun and runs over to his office, ready to shoot anyone who gives Mikey the wrong look.

But as he makes his way into Mikey's office, he sees a woman and a few men. There's 2 men on the ground, knocked out cold. Three more men stand with bruises covering their faces. Mikey and Kakucho are standing in the office, watching this woman like a hawk.

The woman finally takes her leave and runs towards the men, but she slides onto the floor at the last second, sliding through a man's legs. She flips back up and climbs up the man's shoulders, putting his neck into a chokehold with her thighs.

He gasps and tries to claw away for breath, but she doesn't let up. Sanzu watches this all unfold in front of him, eyes wide with a small blush on his face.

"That's enough," Mikey turns to Sanzu and nods. He gets the memo and brings his gun up, shooting a hole through the other two men's head. "You proved your loyalty to Bonten, you'll be working with Sanzu."

The woman jumps down from the man's shoulders, and he falls back onto the floor. She has a sinister look in her eyes as she turns to look at Sanzu. She bows and Sanzu smirks, this is going to be fun.

Wakasa makes his way into the gym. He's a little late today, but it's fine, he's the co-owner. He can't be fired even if he wants to.

As he makes his way through the door, he hears a laugh that doesn't belong to Benkei or Senju. His eyebrows raise and he looks over to the ring. He sees a third person; the first thing he notices is her fitness bra.

Just another person tryna learn self-defense. Wakasa sighs and pulls out his sucker, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. He walks over to the ring, climbing through the ropes.

The girl turns around when she hears movement and smiles at Wakasa. Benkei clears his throat, "this is Y/n, she'll be training with us for a while." Training? So, you're here for a job.

Wakasa scoffs quietly, like someone could train the men that come to this gym. This girl is half their size. The girl only smiles at Wakasa, starting to stretch.

"I told her that you'll dual her, see if she has the strength to take on the men." Wakasa slightly rolls his eyes. Of course, he is one of the strongest here.

The girl starts to stretch and groans at the sound of her bones popping a little.

After getting ready, they both take their positions and start the fight. Benkei and Senju stand off to the side of the ring, not wanting to be in the crossfire.

Both of their eyes widen at the scene in front of them. Benkei smiles a little, she's perfect.

If this girl isn't even taller than Wakasa, has a slim body, and doesn't look like a threat, then why is he on the floor? It hasn't even been five minutes since the fight started and he's already on his ass. He looks up and sees the girl, she brings her hand out, signaling him to grab it so she can help him up.

He does, and she pulls him towards her, pulling his arm behind his back. He groans and looks back at her.

"Don't you know not to trust your enemy?" She smirks and Wakasa huffs.

He wants to put you on your ass, wants to show you that your words don't affect him. But they do. He tries to break free, but the girl disappears from his line of sight.

He only sees her again when she manages to slither up his back and put him in a chokehold with her thighs. Wakasa wants to push her off, do something. But honestly, he's never been this excited over a fight. He was mistaken, she'll be good with training men.

He pats her thigh, giving in. She jumps down, but before she can walk away to grab a towel and wipe off her sweat, Wakasa pulls her close to him.

"I'll let you train, but I don't want you using the same technique on those men." His eyes meet yours as he whispers, "you're mine now."

This is so bad, but I wanted to write something today hgshdsj

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo #wakasa imaushi #wakasa x reader #tokyo revengers wakasa #tokrev wakasa #rindou #ran #i really really love him #haitani ran #wakasa #haitani rindou #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #haitani rindou x reader #haitani x reader #tokrev sanzu #tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu x reader #chifuyu #bonten #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers chifuyu #tr chifuyu #baji

[effymaybe]

Mon’s curiosity leads her home. Luckily, Sam is already waiting for her.

Warning: Sam being a vampire, +18, Sam being a romantic

-

Mon has got a curious soul. It has been evident since she was only a child, eager to drink up fact after fact under the amused gazed of her -still together- parents. She would read everything and anything she could get her little hands on, ready to hide in the most unsuspected spaces to go through her sacred reading sessions without major distractions. Little Mon grew up, went through sorrowful moments, built her own bubbles of happiness, and learned how to be her true sunny self without letting other take advantage of her generous nature. And she kept her curiosity, which has proved to be mostly beneficial for her studies, although it has indeed led her to quite debatably unsafe situations.

Like, for example, right at this moment, when she’s walking on a muddy ground with only her light backpack on and a shaky flashlight illuminating her way through the depth of a misty night. In her defense, that questionable tourist guide shouldn’t have pointed at the exact castle she’s now walking to from the comfort of their tour bus only to say “this one is not available”. Mon had questions. Of course she had questions. How could the rest not have them? But the man merely shot her an attempt of a charming smile and told her that the area was not included in any historical tour ever because “it is hard to get to”.

So Mon -optimistic, strong-headed Mon- is testing this argument by herself. So far, difficult track, yes, but not impossible. Her boots dig into the wild soil and she has so narrow her sight to see just a meter into the distance. The air is dense, cold. Mon feels her lungs staring to strain a bit. She makes a brief pause to inhale deeply and searches almost unconsciously for the stone castle sitting at the top of the uneven hill she has memorized. She doesn’t see it, of course, with all the mist numbing the moonlight, and right then it almost seems like it was never there, that it was mystical artifact that her imagination pieced together only to fuck with her.

But Mon knows better, and she keeps willing her legs to walk up, up, up.

The truth is, Mon may be a bit obsessed. There is something about the mystery, about the way she felt when she saw the castle for the first –and only- time, the fact that there is no information anywhere, not in the internet, not in the seven libraries she spent hours in with the hope of finding something. Nowhere. She has dreamed about the castle. She has been thinking about it almost constantly, sometimes sinking into rushes that made shivers crawl up her skin. There is such a pull, such an energy calling from within the depth of its stone carcass that she finds herself like this, sinking into the darkness to avoid a serious fine for trespassing property.

But it will be worthy, Mon thinks, and she gets closer and closer, until the silhouette of the castle is already visible, and she feels… she feels. It is excitement. It is a pang of fear. It’s a need, something that makes her mouth dry, and Mon is a smart girl, she knows that she is in potential danger, but she comes to stand in front of a massive, impotent door and she’s joyful. She reaches with unsure fingers to caress the pattern of the wood. There are symbols that she doesn’t recognize and the thought dampens her happiness. She should know more. She should know it all, figure this intriguing place up, write it somewhere, take account of every single detail, the indents on the blocks, the lights pulsating dimly through the windows.

Mon frowns.

Her gaze fixes on the yellowish glow dying in the night. There is someone inside, most likely living in the castle. Mon takes a startled step back. She feels undoubtedly drawn, tied to her curiosity, but there is no way she’s going to force her way inside someone’s home. So she’s about to leave, inexplicably disheartened, when a chirring sound begins to echo through the mist. The gate opens slowly, then, painfully, wood cracking in an effort that it seemingly hasn’t made in years. And Mon stands in front of it stunned, her lips parted in surprise as she takes in a giant, cozy gallery equipped with the most luxurious furniture she has seen in her life.

Mon hesitates. Then, she takes a step inside. She cannot consider the gesture exactly an invitation. Hell, she hasn’t even made herself known, and nobody is really waiting for her at the other side. But it is so warm inside, so beautiful. There is a faint smell of jasmine wrapping around her senses. She takes another step inside, marveled. The pictures are simple, wonderfully framed. There is a mixture of time periods, seats from the 17th century, chests from centuries prior, art belonging to rococo. There are ostentatious carpets, polished chandeliers, scented candles melting on expensive holders. Mon can only guess that the owner must be a collector, someone both well formed in the arts and impressively rich, and it is in the midst of this thought that the gate closes in a thud just behind her back.

She should be afraid, but the place is… so beautiful. So familiar. She lets her backpack fall on the floor. Her eyes trace the room and she finds it pleasing. Everything is where it should be. The light, the cushions, the energy floating around. Mon is not home, but- why does it feel like this? Why does she feel like she could take a nap in the couch, watch the fire crackle, be embraced, be loved-

“Good evening”.

Mon gasps. Her whole body jolts up at the deep voice demanding her attention and she turns around and sees…her.

God, she thinks. God, god. Watching her stands the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. Her raven hair falls in careful pieces down her back. Her eyes are powerful, gorgeous, full of a quiet passion that has Mon shaking. Her nose is perky, perfectly small within her sharp features and her mouth, God, so luscious, plump and reddened. She’s wearing a black silken robe that kisses her thigs. It’s wrapped tightly around her perfect figure. Mon shouldn’t be staring, but she’s in a total daze. She wants to kneel. She was to burn red and fade away, never to disturb a fragment of such perplexing beauty.

But the creature waits, her mouth curled down as she breathes deeply, and Mon regains her senses in deep embarrassment.

“Hi- hello. Good evening. Sorry”.

It comes out in a breathless rush and Mon’s cheeks heat up. The creature in front of her and inhales, sets her jaw, purses her lips before licking them. Mon wonders if she made her mad.

“Sorry. My name is Mon. I didn’t mean to intrude. The gate opened and- I just really like the place. I don’t know. I’m not a burglar! I’ll just- I’ll just leave”.

She turns around almost frantically but she doesn’t make it anywhere.

“No!”

Mon’s eyes widen at the short command. It comes out almost as if in desperation. She wants to question it, to take a step back, but the woman walks closer to her and… and she obeys.

“Stay”.  Mon tilts her head lightly. “I’m Marchioness Samanan”. She makes a slight pause. “Sam. Sam is alright”.

Mon nods hesitantly, feeling sweat forming in the palms of her hands. She cannot take her eyes away from her. Sam stares back with the same intensity, overwhelming her. There is something palpable between them, pulling, pulling.

Sam steps closer. Mon is invaded with the desire of letting her touch her.

“You said you like the castle”. Sam comments. Mon needs a moment to thread two thoughts together.

“Yes. I saw it in a tour”.

Sam narrows her eyes. Her gaze drifts to Mon’s nose, her cheeks, her lips. She keeps moving and Mon’s breath grows ragged. She cannot be real. She cannot be human.

“This building is not included in any excursion. I made sure of it. It belongs to me”.

She growls lowly and Mon feels it shaking her deeply. She’s melting, helpless, and Sam comes to stand an inch away from her body. She uses all her willpower not to reach out, not to jump into her arms, no matter how much she desires it, how natural it comes to her mind. It isn’t right, it isn’t right, but it’s so, so alluring.

“I know”, she manages, “I just saw it passing, and I tried to look for information, and then-”

“Then you had your dreams”, Sam finishes.

Mon should be surprised, terrified, full of dread. Sam holds her chin in two strong fingers and Mon cannot think straight.

“Poor soul, you must have been so lost. Desperately longing to be here, safe and warm. I bet that you thought about it. I bet that you were so confused as for why it was eating you alive, consuming every single of your hours”.

Sam’s face draws closer. Mon can smell her sweet perfume, see all the details carefully sitting on her perfect face. Her own skin jumps under Sam’s cool touch. Mon barely remembers how she got there. She barely remembers anything else. Everything is Sam, her smooth voice, her vice grip. Mon’s eyes brim with tears just because it’s too much and not nearly enough. She wants to succumb. She wants to be consumed.

“Mon”, Sam says finally, and Mon almost faints. Say it again, she wishes silently, say it again, and again, and again. “Tell me”, Sam commands. “Speak up”.

Mon takes in air through her mouth. Sam’s eyes fix on her parted lips. “Who are you?”, she asks finally. “What are you? What’s this? Why do I feel… like this?”

Sam’s stare softens. She looks at her with such a tenderness that makes every single of Mon’s walls crumble down in defeat. A strong arm curls itself around her waist and Mon sinks into it mindlessly.

“Oh, my love. You know”. In a swift movement, Sam’s greedy mouth latches on Mon’s exposed neck. She mewls, surprised, struck by pleasure. Mon wants to give up everything. She tilts her head just for Sam to get more access to her skin and she feels her moaning against her throat, clearly affected. “You know, you know”, Sam mumbles. Then, she sucks again, frenzied. The hand that was holding Mon’s chin grasps her nape tightly. “Why you came here. What you were searching for. Me. It’s me, Mon”.

And Mon does know, suddenly. It comes crashing down suddenly, in a million shooting stars, and it grows and grows in her chest. Sam pulls her into a soaring kiss, then, and all her thoughts are a tangled mess. Nothing stands relevant besides the warmth of Sam’s mouth, the way that she’s devouring her, broken in hunger, and all she can do is take it, take it, take it.  Mon circles Sam’s neck with her arms and feels the grip on her waist strengthening, bordering pain in the most delicious way. Sam licks into her mouth and Mon grunts, gone. Sam’s hands caress her figure in desperation, palms her breast, digs blunt nails into her skin. Mon hisses, bites her lower lip, grinds her hips against Sam’s and she can’t take it anymore.

“I need you”, she pants. It makes no sense. None of that makes sense. The way she’s pliant under this woman’s- this creature’s wishes. “I need you, Sam. Please”.

Sam looks delighted. She pulls away to lock an enamored gaze with Mon’s open expression.

“You’ll have me, my darling”, her hands rush to untie Mon from her clothes. Undeserving, useless, a damned barrier, in Sam’s eyes. She wants to have Mon bare, ready for her, endlessly pure under her condemned touch. Mon complies eagerly. She wants out of her clothes, too. “You’ll have me in any way you desire”, Sam tells her, and then dives into sucking her collarbones. She smells so fucking good. “And I’ll have you just like I want, too”.

Mon gasps when Sam suckles on her chest. She’s pulsing, vulnerable, electric. Sam leads her to the couch and she falls on it in a guided gesture, wanting nothing but to feel her cold skin sliding against her.

“Please- please take off yours, too. I need- I need it. I don’t-”

She hiccups and Sam grasps her face with steady fingers. Her sweet angel, lovely soul, she has nothing to fear. Not anymore.

“Yes, love. Anything for you. Don’t you worry”. She makes a quick work on her own robe straddling Mon’s thigs. “I’m here already”.

Mon wants to chant. She wants to laugh with joy and cry out of relief, and burry her fingers in Sam’s core, and let herself be wrecked, again and again. God, she’s gone for. Sam looks so stunning pressed on her legs, baring her gorgeous figure just for Mon to see. It’s a gift, an offering. Mon’s mouth waters before Sam kisses her once again, deep and needy. A frosty touch squeezes her breasts, travels lower, plays with her folds cruelly. Mon can only arch up, frustrated, groaning brokenly. On top of her, Sam pants, dives into her neck and tongues at her pulse point.

“Mon”, she rasps out. Mon nods desperately. “I need this darling. I can’t hold back anymore. You smell-”, she gasps loudly, suckles on her neck with abandon. Sam presses her long fingers on Mon’s core and she would give her anything, anything.

“Yes, yes. Fill me up, please”

And Sam does, rough and steady, still attached to her throat, wondering how she got so damn lucky.

“I waited for so long, Mon, my only hope. I’ve waited for fucking centuries”. Each couple of words is a deep thrust that has Mon clenching in desperation. She loves it. She loves the roughness, the words, Sam’s mouth desperately latching on everywhere. “Now I have you”, she mumbles against her mouth. There is fire in her words, a strand of addiction. Mon moans when Sam curls her fingers inside her and pulls on her lower lip with a nip. “You’re all mine now, Mon. Finally. I’m just- you are so perfect, angel. So ready for me. All mine”.

And yes, Mon is so ready for her. She’s so, so ready. She tangles her hands in Sam’s locks and pushes her down, chanting her hips desperately. She just needs something else, something that is calling from the back of her head. It hurts. It’s so wonderful but it keeps burning, growing endless, and Mon needs a bit more, needs to give herself up right, needs-

“Bite me”, she begs. “Bite me, bite me. Drink me up. Please, Sam”.

Sam moans. Of course her sweet love would ask her that. She’s so perfect, made for her. They are just made for each other.

So she noses her throat, inhales deeply, lets herself enjoy her last strand of self-control while she keeps thrusting into Mon in a steady rhythm. Mon squirms under her, mewls, curls her toes. Sam can’t take it anymore. Her fangs extend pointy and sharp before sinking into Mon’s sensitive skin, making her moan out in a sting of pain. So good, so good, Mon thinks in a frenzy, and then Sam thumbs her clit and a rush of spit enters her bloodstream, and Mon feels white, endless pleasure jolting through her whole body. She groans from the back of her throat and shakes violently between Sam’s strong arms, bathing in the words whispered in her ears.

“Fuck, Mon. Fuck. You taste to fucking good”. Sam drinks her up with abandon before peppering kisses along her skin. “You are just delicious. Everything about you. I can’t wait to taste you all over”.

Mon settles down just like that, nestled in caring arms, filled with pompous compliments. It makes her feel so nice, so safe. She doesn’t remember the last time everything fell into perfect pieces like this. Sam moves her body so she can lie on top of her and it’s even warmer. It shouldn’t be, she thinks faintly, with Sam’s cool skin kissing her own, but there is suddenly a blanket covering her body, and there are nice hands running through her back. She breathes slowly, dizzy. The fire still cracks on the fireplace.

“You can ask me anything”, Sam murmurs after a while, and Mon feels her arms tightening around her body.

“What are you scared of?”, she asks in a whisper, and then pulls back to look at Sam right in her face. She looks surprised, taken aback. There are a million questions to ask, but Mon chose the one nagging her brain the most.

Sam blinks twice before sighing in defeat.

“I’m afraid of you trying to leave”, she answers. “Because- because I don’t know if I can allow it. I don’t know if I have the strength, Mon. It’s been so long, and to finally have you here… It’s everything”.

Her eyes burn into Mon, pleading. Her voice is smaller than ever, sweet and breathless. There is a slight, reddish smudge drying on the bottom of her lower lip. Mon thinks that she wants to see it all, to hear it all.

“Will you tell me all about it?”, she asks. Sam’s eyes water with the weight of a thousand memories.

Why should it matter? It was so long ago, her life before knowing Mon. It was full of despair, of disappointment, of anger. She waited, and waited, and waited. And Mon wasn’t there to live all of that with her. But she is here now, her doe-eyed angel, and she’s asking for something very simple, and Sam would give her anything, anything she could ever ask for. Almost anything.

“Yes”, she finds herself saying, and Mon smiles for the first time since she met her.

There is nothing else, Sam thinks then, nothing else but the curve of her lips, the light behind her eyes, the way soft indents appear in her forehead. That is her soulmate. Her soulmate that is finally wrapped around her arms, illuminating the place with her lovely aura. Sam pecks her lips, helpless, kisses her cheeks, her eyelids, the mark she left on her neck and Mon giggles and shivers, clearly overwhelmed.

“I’ll have to go out sometimes, too”, Mon reasons between kisses. Sam whines lowly against her jaw and Mon bites of an ironic snort. Deathly creature, people would say. “To the supermarket, and to study… maybe other things. I can’t just disappear, Sam”.

Sam frowns and Mon swoons. She’s so, so, pretty. She cannot wait to know everything about her. She grasps her delicate face with her hands.

“But you’ll live here”, Sam argues, “This is your home”.

Mon hums and kisses her deeply. She feels a renewed pulse between her legs. The wound in her neck stings deliciously, too, and Mon wonders whether she’ll get Sam to bite her again. It’s crazy, but damn it, she has never been a coward. The pull she feels towards her, the string tying them inevitably, the way her soul chants Sam’s name again and again. She found her, too. She feels at peace, ecstatic, full of a certainty that shakes every doubt away. Her indents press against Sam’s thigh and she finds them wet from when she had Mon grinding against her. It’s wonderful.

“Mon”, Sam insists then, “Tell me. I want you to say it”, she demands, “that you’ll live with me”.

“I’ll move in”, Mon answers carelessly. Of course she will. Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. She kisses her again and this time Sam corresponds more than happily, letting Mon suck on her tongue eagerly.

Mon mouths down her body, then, exploring, drinking in Sam’s lovely sounds. She sucks her breasts, licks down her sternum, bites on her thighs viciously. Sam’s skin fills her with a hunger that has her salivating. God, she wants do devour her. She wants Sam to pull on her hair, keep her tight against her core, command her, do with her whatever she pleases. When she finds herself marveling between Sam’s legs, she looks up to find a hazy gaze fixed on her mouth.

“It’s been a while”, Sam confesses, although with more longing than embarrassment. The words make Mon light up, feel invincible. She smirks sultrily, drawn by Sam’s smell.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you never have to wait for it again”.

Sam has a fraction of a second to be impressed by the statement before diving into deep pleasure.

-

“Will you ever turn me?”, Mon asks softly.

The sun is caressing her features. They’ve been talking for hours, fucking between whispered words, sinking into the feeling of having each other. Throughout the night, Sam gave Mon a quick tour around the castle, fingered on the stairs, in the shower, on their bed. Mon is completely spent and Sam decided that she absolutely adores that expression on her face, corrupted and satisfied.

“I cannot lose you”, Sam answers merely, and Mon knows what it means.

She ponders for a second, gravitates around the thought.

“Now?”, she asks.

Sam breathes deeply.

“Whenever you are ready”.

Mon hums.

“When I graduate? We’ll be closer in age. I mean- well, you know what I mean”.

Sam smiles softly and Mon smiles back. It is such a lovely sight, Sam brightening up, a joyful curve breaking with her frosty expression. It makes her look younger, free of the weight of countless years. Such a beauty. Mon’s stomach curls in a rush of butterflies. Her hands run through Sam’s long hair with absolute delicacy. God, she’s lucky.

“Yes, my love”, Sam answers, and cuddles deeper into her. Mon yawns. “Anything you’d like. I just want you here”.

And Mon knows that she means. Here I my bed, here in my house, here in my life. Here in this eternal lifetimes, here in what is there to come. To heal, to grow, to live. It’s not much, what Sam asks from her, really. And Mon just likes the same, just as much.

“Let’s be here together, then”.

Mon falls asleep at home.

#monsam #sam x mon #gap the series #freenbecky #i'm not sorry

[willowedwisteria]

Summary -> Walking through a haunted house with them

Genre -> Comedy/Fluff

Featuring -> Beidou, Scaramouche, Xiao

Beidou

The lights flicker, dimly illuminating your surroundings. The dried "blood" was spilled everywhere around the room and it stained the operating table in front of you.

You stared in horror, slowly approaching the body limply laying down on the table.

"H-hey... you sure we should go closer?" You ask Beidou, who's sweating a bit as well. At least you weren't the only one scared, but you were probably even more nervous than Beidou with your shaky arms.

Beidou shakes her head firmly, yet you decide to take a closer look.

You poked at the body laying on the table. His eyes were closed, and a bunch of scars were engraved across his body, a pale complexion finishing the image of someone who had supposedly passed already.

A few moments pass and nothing happens, the beating of your heart slows down as you begin to feel calm again.

"Don't worry, there's nothing here." You turn your head to Beidou, a smile of relief on your face.

Instead of replying to you, Beidou quickly tugs onto your arm, an iron grip pulling you along whilst she races out of the room. You almost trip as you shout out her name, puzzled by her actions.

"Beidou?!"

"Your grace, we really need to move. Right now." Her words are shaky, a bit fragmented as if she had to piece her words together on the spot.

"B-" you almost trip over something, "But there's nothing wrong..?" You turn your head back to the room with the operating table, the lights of the hallway that Beidou was leading you through barely allowing your eyes to notice it.

Those dilated eyes of the supposed dead man on the operating table, almost glaring at you as he begins to slowly lift his body up from the table.

In his patient's gown, he begins running to you. Fast.

"OKAY, OKAY, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE." You warn Beidou, "AND DON'T LOOK BACK."

You probably should thank Beidou for pulling you away in such a hurry.

Scaramouche

You step up the creaky stairs, holding Scara's hand with your fingers intertwined.

Normally, Scara would be overjoyed internally by now to hold your hand and feel your fingers caressing his knuckles. Trust me, he absolutely is. However, the atmosphere of a haunted house isn't supposed to be romantic or cheery, is it?

Once both of your reach the top of the stairs, you inspect the room where you've arrived at. You spot an empty toy box with all of the toys scattered around the room, an old and dusty bed, and a closet.

You both share a glance and nod, "We aren't going to that closet, no way."

"Should we check out the bed?" You hesitantly ask, shielding your mouth and nose from the dust around you. Scara reluctantly nods, yet he doesn't move an inch.

"Aren't you going to go?" You ask.

"Who's 'you'? I'm not going." Scara retorts. You might be his god and he would never let harm get in your way, but that does not apply to situations like this.

For sure, he would always be there to rescue you from any danger of course. But he's already threatened told the owner of the haunted house not to hurt you in any shape, way, or form. You are walking out of this haunted house without a single scratch.

"Then... do I have to go?" You point to yourself. With Scara's nod, it seems like you don't have a choice.

Sighing, you paced over to the bed, quickly glancing at it. Scara then follows your lead and you both try and search around the bed for anything.

"See anything?" Scara asks. You shake your head and pull the sheets up to check if there's anything under them.

Suddenly, a bloodied hand wraps around Scara's leg from under the bed and he jumps at the sight, almost screaming. Almost instinctively, he uses his other leg and kicks at the hand and a shout rings out from under the bed.

Your head snaps back into the right place and the realization that you're in a haunted house comes back to you. None of this is real, there are actors acting out here.

Immediately, you kneel down to apologize and help the girl to get out from under the bed. "Ow, ow, ow... 'm sorry your grace. I ruined your experience at the haunted house."

She bowed down to you and you nervously chuckled. "There's no need to apologize, we were the ones who hurt you, accidental or not."

"Don't worry 'bout it! It happens often, fight or flight instinct, y'know?" She reassures you confidently, "I just didn't expect such a little guy to have so much kick power, does he kick around often or somethin'?"

"Hey!" Scara retorts.

Xiao

Usually, Xiao doesn't make a scene and offers to be in front of you during his first haunted house with you.

You were hoping to at least hear a small yelp from him, but he didn't do much. At most, he did flinch at a few scenes, but never yelled or looked as if he was in a state of panic.

But, this time, you were sure it would be different.

As you held onto Xiao's arm, strolling down the dark hallways. As vigilant as always, Xiao was constantly turning his head around, checking the corners before letting you walk in front of him.

Honestly, he was probably a bit nervous.

The both of you continued to walk down the corridors, not planning to search past what's behind the doors of any rooms you noticed.

The lights began flickering. Typical as always.

The figure of someone... almost identical to you appears. They have a knife in hand, scars all across their body, and they were wearing the same clothes as you - notably more tattered and dirtied.

"Xiao?" They say out, almost choking out sobs. They look so much like you. "It's me."

Xiao hesitates. For the first time ever, he steps behind you.

You turn back to him, "No! No! Seriously, it's me! (Name)!" You point to yourself. Xiao's eyes switch between you and your twin.

In the first part of the haunted house, both you and Xiao were separated but met up again. Furthermore, the ambiance of the whole situation made the wires in his head mix up. He couldn't tell who was who.

It gave him a scare, seeing two of you, unsure of who he's supposed to protect.

To add fuel to the fire, a laugh could be heard from the distance as a thump is heard. "Xiao! We need to go!" You tell him, tugging on his arm.

The other you pull out the blade they had in hand and prepare to fend off the approaching figure in the distance.

Though he wasn't convinced whether he had made the right decision or not, he ran away with you and made it closer to the end of the haunted house.

You heave a sigh of relief, confidently opening the door, feeling as if you already escaped from the haunted house.

"I'm so glad we're almost finished with this." You mention, excitedly tugging on Xiao's clothes. Xiao stares at you in a weird way, almost judgmental.

"Your grace," he backs off, pulling your hand away from his clothing, "why does your voice sound different?"

'Your' bright smile turned into a scowl and 'you' unsheathed a hidden blade. "And I thought I would get away with it..." The words practically slip out of 'your' lips.

Xiao doesn't take a moment to even think, he rushes back to the place where he had met the two versions of you. His heart is racing out of his chest, and his breath was rigid, why didn't he recognize you?

The moment he got there, he saw the real you, smiling at him with the whole cast of actors, including the other you. The other you pulled down their wig and you wiped off the 'scars' that littered your body.

A mischievous smirk spreads on your face once you get a good look at Xiao's shocked face. You were seriously so mean to side with the actors and give him a scare.

"How does it feel to be terrified, Xiao?"

Tag list -> @under-a-starry-night, @yourfaveisblack, @bardisipatos, @callmemeelah, @kithewanderingme, @white-like-dis, @bamboowrites/@bamboowritess, @uchihaeirin, @karmawonders, @lunavixia, @anfre109

Special tags -> @is-very-sad, @chocoenvy, @raidengaile/@simplygaile, @spare-some-bones, @chocogi, @saigomo, @gunterdon, @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry, @xiaophilia, @creation-magician, @yuzuricebun, @wifi-crusader, @lotterymology, @lina-andel

#Wisteriawrites #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #genshin self aware au #genshin impact beidou #beidou genshin impact #genshin beidou #gi beidou #beidou #beidou x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #kunikuzushi #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche gi #gi scaramouche #adeptus xiao #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x you #beidou x you #scaramouche x you

[depressedbagpipe]

"Blackbird to Robin, do you copy?" (Billy Russo x ofc)

Chapter two

Words: 4223 Warnings: smoking, reader being poor, mentions of alcohol, minor foul-language. A/N: i owe u guys an apology. my adhd has been acting up and my new hyperfixation (aka f1 drivers) didn't help. I've been rewriting this chapter for weeks because i never liked how it looked when finished and I'm still not sure i like it now, but it's certainly better than it was before. thank u guys so much for waiting <3 also i have zero idea about how the ivy league works so just pretend dana is getting her master's degree Taglist: @badasseddy, @noortsshift, @britishbassett

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Chapter two

The glaring red numbers of my nightstand clock showed it was only two in the morning, yet no matter how many times I had tossed and turned in bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. My eyes had been closed ever since I got under the duvet, wrapped in extra blankets hoping the soft material would lull me into a much-needed rest to escape the nightmarish evening. But my mind was still reeling even after more than an hour of simply laying there. Every interaction, every conversation, every gesture, absolutely everything I had ever done was coming in quick flashes in my head, making it impossible to sleep. So I gave up.

None of it felt real. Only twenty-four hours ago I was stressing about making enough tips to pay for the week’s rent and remembering the many due dates for the upcoming semester’s assignments. Now, I had an ex-marine turned bodyguard sleeping in the other room while someone out there had threatened to kill me.

My head spun slightly when I got up, throwing the warm covers off my body and stretching a bit once I was back on my feet. I looked around the dark room, where the only light came from the big window. The city was alive outside, yet only a few sounds slipped through the cracks in the walls. 

Grabbing the sweater I had draped over a chair, I walked to the window and opened it, relishing in the cold air that blew on my face as I stepped onto the fire escape. I sat on the iron stairs that stood on the left side, carefully tugging the fabric closer to my body with shaky hands. I stared out at the street that extended before me, once again becoming a mere observer of the world around me. Despite the street not being a particularly busy one, many people walked below me, some of them with heavy suitcases, walking fast, and others with hidden alcohol bottles in their hands, walking slowly. My fingers grazed the corner of the cigarette packet that had been left forgotten in my sweater’s pocket. The sudden urge overpowered my brain, and before I could stop myself, my hands were automatically lighting one up and bringing it closer to my lips. My lungs welcomed the dark smoke like an old friend, making me close my eyes while the haziness that clouded my mind slowly dissipated. 

‘You shouldn’t smoke,’ a voice spoke on my right. 

I jumped at the suddenness, almost dropping the cigarette in surprise. Opening my eyes, I found Billy, casually leaning on the wall at the far end of the fire escape, with the window leading to the living room wide open. 

I sent him a look.

‘It’s bad for your health,’ he nodded at the packet in my hand. 

‘I’m not a smoker,’ I responded, a mixed cloud of vapor and smoke escaping through my lips.

‘That’s what every smoker says.’

He was still wearing his suit, with his jacket long abandoned. He had one leg crossed over the other and his back resting on the old bricks. His tied moved with the wind, and so did a few strays of hair. He wasn’t looking at me; his eyes faced forwards, examining the opposite building, and the many lives that inhabited it through the lit windows.

‘It’s more of a social convenience,’ I responded before taking another drag. 

The cigarette dangled between my fingers, following his eyes. The familiar weight still felt foreign in my hand.

‘Yet you’re alone now.’

‘Care to join me, then?’ I pulled another from the packet, offering it to him. 

Billy turned to me with tired eyes. His pupils blended with the irises in the night. With a few steps towards me, he swiftly grabbed it in his fingers. I grabbed the lighter again, igniting it as I continued it. ‘Just needed another one. It’s been a long day.’

Billy got closer, lowering his head, the cigarette firm between his lips, to light it up. The close proximity made me shiver. Whether it was from the cold or not, I couldn’t tell.

‘Tell me about it,’ he raised his eyebrows before he took a long drag. He took a couple of steps back and closed his eyes in relief. The light clench of his jaw seemed to disappear almost immediately. 

My lips curved at the sight. ‘I thought smoking was bad for your health,’ I teased, watching rather marveled how he effortlessly carried on.

He shook his head with a light smirk. ‘Social convenience,’ he said, looking at me for a split second before returning his gaze to the other building.

We stood there for a while in complete silence. The ashes pooled at our feet before finally slipping through the gaps in the iron and falling to their oblivion. We were the only ones on the fire escape, most of my neighbors being of old age already in bed hours ago. Billy kept his distance but remained closer to me after grabbing the cigarette. I didn’t know who he was doing it for, but the quick glances I took at his figure almost made me wish he were standing closer. There was no denying he was extremely attractive, but the circumstances were impossible to ignore. Even if no threat had ever come my way, Billy still represented everything I was trying to fight against.

‘I’m sorry,’ I suddenly spoke.

Those words have been mulling in my brain for some while, but until that moment, I had been too afraid to say anything. Whatever peace we had found between us wasn’t strong enough, and yet I had broken it without much thought. 

‘Hm?’ he answered. I knew he had been somewhere else just by the way his posture became rigid again. He moved his head slightly, just enough to know he had heard me, but it wasn’t until I repeated the words that he looked back at me. ‘What for?’

‘I know I’m not the most…’ I paused. ‘Cooperative person. And you’re just trying to do your job,’ I looked down at my fingers. My cigarette was almost gone, just the filter left like a tiny speck of dust in my hand. ‘I don’t mean to be hostile, I just…’ I rubbed my eyes, anything to distract me from his intoxicating eyes. ‘I’m not used to having people care about me. Paid or not,’ I added in a low voice. 

Billy didn’t answer for a few seconds. Some cops were patrolling underneath us, threatening a group of young boys to go back to their homes. New York was never a silent place, yet for some reason, Billy’s silence was louder. 

‘I’m sorry, too,’ he finally replied. 

I dared to look at him. This time our roles had been reversed; he was the one looking down now. The tip of his expensive show was pressing down the residue of his cigarette. ‘Sometimes I forget that my life isn’t the norm for everyone. Ambushing you at your university, and the interrogation…’ he trailed off.

I physically winced at the memory. ‘Not the best approach,’ I attempted to joke, copying his movements and putting my cigarette out too.

‘There’s never a good approach. Sometimes you gotta numb yourself to carry on. Otherwise, it’s too much.’

He turned fully to me. The wind had picked up, and his hair little resembled his prior combed perfection. Now, it seemed alive. Human.

‘I swear I didn’t know about your mom. Or your whole life, for that matter,’ he spoke. He regarded me with such intensity that I had to will myself to not look away. He was clearly sending a message, and he was intending for me to receive it.

‘I know. You’re just doing your job. It’s alright,’ was my response. Gone was the peace of the cold night. I wanted to hide in my room again, away from this conversation, and away from him.

I hid my trembling hands in my pockets.

He shook his head. ‘It’s not in my nature to be gentle.’

My breath got stuck in my throat. ‘I’d expect that from Frank, to be honest. But not from you,’ I tried to keep the conversation light. Anything to escape the depth his eyes withheld. ‘I think I’m gonna get some sleep now,’ I whispered. 

My silent way out.

He nodded. ‘You feeling better now?’ he took a couple of steps back, allowing me to stand up and walk down the few stairs to his level.

‘Yeah. Thank you, for the social convenience,’ I shrugged. 

Maybe, just by being nonchalant, he wouldn’t know what really went through my mind. But then again, even I didn’t know what was going through my mind. 

‘Anytime,’ he nodded.

He offered his hand for me to climb through my window. I looked at it for a split second before taking it, the warmth of his hand encompassing my naturally cold one as I grabbed the window sill, ducking under the arch. I thanked him quietly once I was safely inside, turning around to shrug my sweater off and back to its place on the chair. I felt his eyes on my back, following my every move around my room, but I dared not look back at him. I pulled the heavy curtains, suddenly feeling self-conscious. I was once again alone in the dark, with just my thoughts to keep my company. Before they got too much, I got back into my duvet. This time, it didn’t take me long to finally fall asleep. 

···

‘Really, you don’t have to do this, Billy,’ I shook my head as he swiped his card at the register. ‘I may be broke, but I can still pay for my own coffee.’

He sent the young barista a dazzling smile, placing one hand on the small of my back and grabbing our takeout in the other. He guided me to the side of the bar to wait for our orders to be ready. 

‘This is a tip for you: don’t pay for the things you can get for free,’ he winked at me just before the barista called his name, handing him two steaming to-go cups with the flirtiest grin I had ever seen. 

I didn’t fail to notice the small paper she slipped through his fingers. 

‘Is that how you got your fortune?’ I raised my eyebrows at him while I led him outside, opening the door for him. I couldn’t tell if I was asking about the flirting or the paying. 

I also saw Billy discreetly discard the paper as he stepped out of the café.

‘Smiling also works,’ he answered, nodding once more to his driver, who had been waiting for us by the entrance of the shop. 

The man in black opened the door for us with a graceful movement, closing it after Billy stepped in, and walked to the front and the driver’s seat. 

‘Take us to my apartment, Jonathan,’ Billy called from the seat next to mine, sitting comfortably on the back and not even bothering to buckle up. 

I shook my head at him, seeing how he grabbed his phone and leaned back on his seat with legs far too long, yet managing to cross one over the other, occupying even more space. Meanwhile, I didn’t move from my place, not even daring to look up front, trying to give Jonathan some privacy, making sure not to spill my breakfast over the expensive leather.

I couldn’t help but look out the tainted window, the skyscrapers zooming by as Billy’s chauffeur took us to our next destination. Despite being only 7 am, the people seemed to have been awake forever. I took careful sips of my coffee, the semi-sweet scent having nothing to do with the low-quality one I served at my job. The morning was cold and cloudy, with fog covering the tallest buildings. Days like those made the city look like a snowball, a world within itself. Those were the days I looked forward to the most. 

As expected, Billy’s ‘apartment’ turned out to be the entire penthouse on one of the most luxurious apartment complexes in town. Even the doorman came out to greet him, pressing the elevator for him as he complimented his newest economic investments. His words were practiced and rehearsed; did Billy know, and he probably did, but he didn’t dwell on it. He merely nodded and thanked him politely, smiled when he had to, and asked the right questions. 

The doorman kept talking even as the elevator doors closed, leaving him behind. Billy sighed deeply, but kept his eyes forwards, staring at his own reflection on the glass panel. I did the same, suddenly feeling nervous. 

I had put my whole life in his hands. I had been the prey since the day I was born, but I could now be standing next to the hunter. And he was luring me straight to his house.

The elevator opened to the foyer of his residence, the while pearls dangling from a chandelier casting thousands of delicate lights over our faces.

‘Welcome to Chez Russo,’ Billy extended his arm for me to walk first. 

I stepped out of the elevator without saying anything. I couldn’t. I was too busy staring down at my reflection on the polished marble floors. Just the receiving area was already fancier than anything I had ever seen before. My neck even cramped from looking upwards, staring at the skillful details of the chandelier. Underneath the fixture was a polished wooden table with a vase of radiant fresh flowers. I walked around it, noticing the golden-framed mirror on the side, adding more depth to the circular room. With self-pity, I noticed that the foyer was already bigger than my living room, and the high ceiling with the skylight on top was just another reminder of our many differences. 

I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, noticing the wonder in my eyes and the many fuzzballs on my old scarf, compared to the slicked-back polished look Billy had when he walked over the other side, despite his clothes being a day old. 

He now walked a few steps in front of me, and I forced myself to tread through the white columns into an even more impressive living area. But I could barely focus on all the modern furniture around me, for my attention was immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling window that extended all over the outer wall. 

‘Alright, feel free to look around, I’m gonna hop in the shower and get ready,’ Billy interrupted my thoughts. ‘We still have an hour for your class and I won’t be long. There’s drinks and food in the kitchen if you’d like anything. Remote’s on the coffee table over there, grab any book you want, and get comfortable,’ he added before disappearing through a hidden hall. 

He didn’t give me any time to respond. The echo of his steps moving away against the silent walls gave me chills as I looked around at the large space I found myself in. The high walls seemed to go on forever, and the slick design of the penthouse only accentuated the luxurious style that complimented Billy’s personality. 

But it was the view that caught my breath. I knew the window showed Central Park, yet the fog made it almost impossible to see anything below. It made the apartment suspended over the clouds, and the height allowed actual sunrays to flood the room. I stood there, not daring to move. I thoroughly disliked heights and just standing that close made my head spin. It almost looked like there wasn’t a glass between me and the clouds. 

I knew I stood out in the middle of such extravagance. I didn’t belong there. 

I don’t know how long I remained there, but Billy was already gently tapping my shoulder to catch my attention.

‘Dana, you alright?’ I turned around to find his dark eyes on me, slightly furrowed at the creases. ‘I called you several times, is something wrong?’

I shook my head. ‘Yeah, yeah. I just… was admiring the view,’ I answered, gesturing behind me. 

‘To be honest, that’s why I bought the place,’ he stood next to me, also looking at the view. ‘It’s the best thing about it.’

I whistled, for a split second thinking how much the penthouse would’ve cost him. ‘I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up every day to this,’ I said.

Billy nodded. ‘You get used to it.’

‘I don’t think I ever could. I’d stay here every day for hours.’

‘Sometimes, I wish I had more time to observe, too,’ Billy’s tone was wistful, but he quickly regained his composure. ‘C’mon, you’ll be late for class,’ he said. 

Only when he started walking I noticed his appearance. His hair was back in place, smelling of fresh shampoo and new cologne. I knew his suit was different, as was his tie, and shows, but I saw no difference. 

‘Are you wearing the same clothes?’ I asked as I followed after him, stopping at the elevator back at his entrance. 

He scoffed. ‘This is clearly a different suit,’ he took his black sunglasses in his hands, staring at me in disbelief. 

We both knew our conversation wasn’t serious, but for some reason, I didn’t want it to stop. 

‘Then, are all your suits black?’

‘No? I have more colors in my closet, Dana.’

‘Yet you’re wearing black again,’ I noted. I smiled at him as we stepped into the elevator, pressing my back against the wall as I looked at him, dropping his shoulders in annoyance.

‘They’re not. This one’s ebony; yesterday’s onyx.’

His tone was casual, experienced. If it wasn’t for his eyes, I would’ve thought he was mocking me. But then, maybe he was.

‘Right,’ I rolled my eyes, the corner of my lips lifting ever so lightly. 

The elevator opened to the lobby, but Billy quickly guided me to the other side, where another elevator stood forgotten on the opposite end of the building.

‘I thought we were going to my class,’ I asked, confused.

The doorman looked at us curiously, pretending to read a magazine behind his large desk. 

‘We are,’ Billy answered after pressing the button.

I shook my head. ‘I love it when you’re so talkative,’ I pressed him, sighing deeply when I didn’t get an answer.

‘I’m driving you,’ Billy said at last.

‘What about Jonathan?’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s your driver, Billy.’

‘I know how to drive, Dana.’

The conversation was cut short as soon as the elevator came and took us down to the garage, where many expensive cars stood waiting to be used.

My mouth dropped as we walked amongst them, their shiny and polished hoods almost mocking me. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Alpine, McLaren… all big names that had me drooling as I stared at my guilty pleasure. Whatever ounce of self-respect and class consciousness was lost immediately, my own ideals being thrown out the window as I pictured myself driving one of them, despite what my life and career were aiming to.

Billy whisked his key set from his pocket, pressing down on it quickly. At the end of the large garage, a black Rolls Royce unlocked before us. I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared at the model, too flabbergasted to notice Billy opening the passenger’s door for me.

‘You coming? We have fifteen minutes,’ he had a little twinkle in his eye as he looked at me. 

He was enjoying this. 

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,’ I shook myself out of my daze, walking to him. 

I moved carefully as I stepped inside, the soft leather feeling rich under my old jeans. 

Billy closed the door for me, walking around the car to sit in the driver’s seat. He got inside with practiced ease, and less than a minute later, we were speeding down the busy streets of Manhattan, the smooth wheels making us float over the road. 

The caramel skin of the cabin contrasted with the cracked screen of my old phone, but thankfully, I didn’t have time to feel bad about myself, for the big classic Roman façade of Columbia University came into view rather quickly. 

As soon as the car came to a halt in one of the many parking spots for the students, I unbuckled my belt and opened the door, not even waiting for Billy to say anything else.

‘C’mon,’ I called him, trying to make him keep up. ‘I can’t be late.’

‘You didn’t seem to care earlier at the garage,’ he walked beside me with a few long strides, adjusting his sunglasses over his nose.

‘I mean, who wouldn’t prefer a Rolls Royce over a college lecture,’ I rolled my eyes as I walked up the stairs to the grand building that stood tall and proud before us. 

Many of the walking students stopped to stare at us. Or rather, at Billy. He walked with such poised grace that it was almost impossible to believe he used to be a soldier. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine, but then again, my biological father probably had a high body count too. 

Some students whispered under their breath, pointing at the man by my side, with eyebrows raised in recognition. Heat rose to my cheeks, the sudden attention making me uncomfortable.

Once we reached the door to the main hall, I turned to face Billy with a serious face. 

‘Alright, this is already embarrassing so please, don’t make it worse. Don’t talk, don’t stare, don’t even breathe if you can help it. Copy?’ I asked him.

His eyes widened in surprise at my sudden outburst. He raised his hands in defense.

‘Copy.’

With a sigh and one last look, I opened the door. 

···

‘Dana!’ a familiar voice called after me. ‘Where the hell have you been, loca?’

I audibly laughed at Owen, who then proceeded to throw his arms around me and spin me around, Jacob Black style.

‘How original,’ I joked, smiling widely at the only friend I had at college.

‘You know you love it,’ he winked, his eyes darkening as they fell on Billy.

His posture seemed to straighten when he gave him a look over.

‘Oh, uh, Owen, this is Billy,’ I introduced them, though both men simply nodded at each other. 

They held each other’s gaze almost challengingly. 

‘It’s a pleasure, Owen,’ Billy nodded as he looked down at the slightly shorter man.

‘Likewise,’ Owen answered, and focused his blue eyes back on me. ‘Where were you yesterday? I thought you said you’d be at the library all evening,’ he furrowed his eyebrows. 

I widened my eyes. ‘Yeah, uh… something came up,’ I said, feeling Billy’s eyes carving a hole in the back of my head.

‘What about today?’

‘I can’t, I got a late shift at the café,’ I answered.

‘Right… then I can run down for a while,’ Owen offered. 

I nodded. ‘Yeah, totally! I’ll let Harper know you’re coming by!’

‘Dana,’ Billy interrupted. His tone was dryer and lower than it had been all day. A silent warning.

‘Right, uh, we gotta go now, we’ll catch up later?’ I asked Owen.

‘Sure, see ya!’

I couldn’t properly say goodbye, for Billy was already grabbing me by my arm and walking me to the main entrance of the building.

He let go of my arm as soon as we stepped outside, yet he walked a couple of feet in front of me as he led me back to his car. Only once we were back inside, out of prying eyes and ears, he spoke. 

‘Who’s that?’ 

I frowned. ‘Owen.’

‘I can see that. Where do you know him from?’

I shrugged. ‘We have a few classes together.’

‘Since when?’ 

‘He transferred mid-term from Yale. Had a change of heart, apparently.’

‘What’s that about coming by later?’

‘We’re doing some research together for a class. We were gonna meet up yesterday, but yeah… You know what happened.’

‘I don’t trust him.’

His tone matched his earlier warning. His eyes were focused on the road, but maintained a firm grip on the steering wheel. It almost felt like I wasn’t there.

‘Well, that sucks for you,’ I pulled my phone out, desperate to do something with my hands. ‘I’m not failing a class just because you don’t like someone. I mean I wouldn’t have graduated otherwise.’

‘He’s not on my file.’

I froze on the spot. ‘Billy,’ I warned him, but I was too stunned.

‘Dana.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t tell me you have a file for every single passerby that looks my way.’

‘That’s precisely what I’m here for.’

The drive seemed longer now.

‘That’s gotta be exhausting,’ I didn’t know what else to answer.

‘Well, at least I’m getting paid.’

I saw his eyes widen in shock at his statement, shaking his head immediately at me as he apologized. But the harm was already done.

‘Don’t mention it. It’s true.’ 

I looked outside my window. Anything to not look at him. 

‘I didn’t mean…’ but I cut him.

‘It’s fine.’

‘It’s not.’

‘Just drop it, Billy…’ my voice was shaky. But I refused to let any tears fall. ‘Please, just take me home.’

Next chapter

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x oc #the punisher #billy russo imagine #marvel #the punisher au #frank castle #billy russo could step on my back and i'd say thank you

[imthejudge]

make sense of me

Warren Graham x Nathan Prescott

Chapter Five Word Count: 11,914

Chapter Four

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

Read on Archive

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41111322/chapters/113043922

-

Chapter Five: destructive qualities

“Are you even listening, Nathan?”

Huh?

A camera flash lights up the pitch black room momentarily. Nathan squints his eyes, both in confusion and disorientation. Where is he? Where’s Warren?

Another flash, and this time Nathan takes in the stark image of the darkroom. Jefferson’s darkroom. His darkroom.

He’s suddenly petrified in place, his gut twisting as unease settles across his skin, making it prickle, making it numb.

No.

He feels sick.

Nononononono.

The blinding light signals another snapshot and his eyes dart around frantically. Trying to take in as much as he can. As much as he doesn’t want to. He can’t stop himself. Black and white and sterile. That’s how he remembers it.

“Nathan, Jesus Christ. Pay attention! Am I wasting my time here? Do you know how valuable what I am trying to teach you is?”

His voice… it sends a chill like a sharp blade along his spine. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go back. He wants to wake up. A sudden dread like lead fills his stomach at the realization, is this even a dream?

White light, another flash. And another. Nathan stumbles back, but someone grabs onto his arm with a grip like a vice and pulls him forward. “Heyheyhey, you’re not going all psychotic on me, are you Nate? I told you only I can help you with that.” Nathan can see him, he leers over him mere inches above him, bringing up a white gloved hand to pat Nathan’s cheek harshly and forcing Nathan to look up at his face. The stark light of the camera flash reflects on his glasses, hiding his eyes behind them.

There’s a noise that sounds like a whimper echoing off the hard walls. He almost mistakes it for his own. It isn’t. It isn’t his. The blood that’s rushing in his ears fades to leave nothing but the quiet. And that noise. That awful noise.

She’s here. He knows she’s here.

rachelinthedarkroomrachelinthedarkroomrachelinthedarkroomrachelinthedarkroom.

His hands begin to shake like they did when he scribbled those words over and over again. Going through his mind on repeat. He thinks he’s going to black out, hopes he might. Just to make it all go away.

Then someone grips his shoulder, but it’s not as rough, and Nathan jolts awake.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Nathan’s vision is filled with light. Not harsh like a moment ago. Soft sunlight. And Warren’s there, taking up the entirety of what he can see. His brows creased in concern and eyes so wide that Nathan can see everything that’s reflected inside of them. He’s gripping both his shoulders, tightly, and holding Nathan in such close proximity that he could feel his breath when he spoke.

They’re still in bed. Lou’s bed. Lou’s room. In 1983. He lets out a shaky breath filled with relief. He notes how in his state of alarm, he’d reached out to hold onto Warren, too, and promptly drops his hands from either side of his arms. But Warren doesn’t let up, and somehow after Nathan’s recovered somewhat–and he knows it was just a dream–he’s surprised at how the contact and concern doesn’t send a spike of irritation through him like it usually does.

“Yeah. I’m fine now.”

“You’re all sweaty.” Warren finally lets go, though it’s with clear hesitation. “You looked like a deer in the headlights for a second there.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“I’d say. You sure you’re okay?”

Nathan nods his head, peeling himself from the sheets and out of the bed to walk on shaky legs towards the door. “I just need a minute.” He doesn’t wait for a response, or even look back over his shoulder. His feet drag along the carpeted hallway, carrying him to the washroom. Once he’s inside he aims himself towards the sink, aware of how his feet pad across the grimy floor tiles. He is sweaty, shirt clinging to his chest and pants sticking to his legs uncomfortably.

He turns the tap, collecting the cold water in his hands to splash onto his face. It sends a shiver down his body, but it helps clear his mind. If only slightly. He can still see the flash of the camera when he closes his eyes. Lighting up Jefferson's face. Then Rachel’s. He rubs at them, pressing his fingers into the hollow space so roughly to the point where he begins to see stars.

He can't reach him here.

There’s a lightness that comes with knowing that, like a heavy weight that’s been lifted from his chest. He takes in a deep breath, one he imagines expanding his ribs, counting to three before exhaling out of his mouth. He opens his eyes but doesn’t have it in him to meet his reflection. Too afraid he might throw his fist to collide there and send a thousand different versions of himself to collide with the floor, all noise and jagged edges. So he turns his back on the mirror, raising a still wet hand to run through his hair.

It seems that even being transported to a different time didn’t stop his nightmares from following him. But at least he can wake up, something that didn’t seem possible in the future reality he’d been living. Here he could escape.

Nathan drags a hand over his face, fingers grazing across the still raised lines where Max had scratched him. It doesn't feel as sensitive as before, but he’s still surprised by them, serving as a reminder to what happened. And to what Warren had said to him last night.

Yeah. You’re a shitty person. Nathan doesn’t need to turn around and point at his reflection while yelling the thought for him to believe it. What’s changed?

Nothing. Nothing’s changed.

-

He’s back in Lou’s room a few minutes later, closing the door behind him. Warren’s moved only slightly from his position on the bed to sit at the end of it, his legs dangling off the edge and staring expectantly at Nathan.

Nathan doesn’t say anything, and he can tell Warren’s trying really hard not to, either. The way he chews at his bottom lip in a nervousness that Nathan’s picked up on early in their acquaintance with one another. It’s something Warren does when he wants to say something really badly, but also doesn’t want to overstep like he almost always does.

“You knew Rachel.”

Nathan tenses up instantly. He was prepared for Warren to lose his internal battle, but he certainly wasn’t expecting those to be the words that slip from his mouth. Nathan briefly wonders if he’s still stuck in a dream. That the flesh will melt from Warren’s face to morph into that of Jefferson’s. Following him here so he can haunt Nathan further. But it doesn’t happen. Warren remains with his wide eyed gaze directed up at him. Open and somehow so intimidating that Nathan has to look away.

“You kept repeating her name in your sleep. During your nightmare.”

“No I wasn’t.” Nathan quickly retorts. Warren doesn’t argue, but he presses his lips together in a way that tells Nathan he’s not convinced. At each side, Nathan’s hands begin to shake. He instinctively balls them into fists, bringing them up to hold in front of himself.

“Nathan…” Warren starts slowly. And Nathan lets him. He doesn’t know why, he’s desperate to shut it down by yelling at Warren to stop talking. Like he always does. But he doesn’t. “Do you know anything about what might’ve happened to–”

Before the conversation can escalate any further, a knock at the door sounds out and instantly stills the air. They both whip their heads in the direction of the noise, momentarily struck by its interruption. Then Warren gets up from his seat at the edge of the bed to answer it and Nathan’s filled with relief at its disruption.

“Hope you guys like breakfast burritos.” Lou’s voice can be heard from the hallway on the other side of the door. Warren widens it from the original few inches he’d opened it to and Lou comes in with a couple of bags in her hands. “I brought some other things, too. Some clothes and toiletries, I’m sure you’re both desperate for a little bit of basic personal hygiene.”

Nathan can’t express how badly he craves a shower, though he doesn’t need to when Warren expresses it enough for the both of them with a drawn out, “You have noooooo ideaaaa.”

“You’re a life saver, Lou. Warren was starting to attract flies.” Nathan angles himself away as he takes one of the bags from Lou to hide his triumphant smile when Warren stands open-mouthed in shock.

“Do I smell that bad?” and as if proving Nathan’s internal view of Warren as the stereotypical teenage smelly boy he is, Warren raises his arm in a dog-like manner to take a whiff of his armpit. Lou’s expression scrunches up in a sympathetic way that only further cements the look of horror on Warren’s face. “Why did no one tell me?!”

“Just did.” Nathan’s digging in the bag he’d grabbed to fish out a bottle of body wash, chucking it Warren’s way with unnecessary force, “here you go, stinky.”

Warren catches it, though barely and with a significant lack of grace before Lou chimes in, “I picked out some stuff you can put on once you’re all cleaned up in here.” She hands him the bag she still holds onto. “There should be a towel in there for you, too.”

Juggling everything in his hands–plus the additional bottles of shampoo and conditioner that Nathan piles on–Warren inches towards the door. “Guess I’m taking a shower then.” He hesitates for a second, turning back to Nathan with a hushed tone, “I mean, uh, unless you want me to stay–”

Nathan rolls his eyes, opening the door for Warren, “just go.” He closes the door again after ushering Warren out, turning to face Lou on the other side of the room. She sends him an easygoing smile while unpacking the rest of the stuff from the bag Nathan had taken earlier. He’s slightly hung up on how much the mannerism reflects Warren, really taking in the resemblance they share. It makes him wonder how similar he might look to his father. The teenage version of him Nathan saw the day prior. He hadn’t had the mental capacity to think over it before. And now he finds the comparison makes him feel somewhat sick.

“Did you two sleep alright?” Lou eyes Nathan.

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” It isn’t a lie–nor an exaggeration either–as far as his nightmares go, the one he’d woken up from that morning was tame. And compared to the complete lack of sleep he’d had the night before, it was certainly better than nothing. Slightly sweaty was a step up from being drenched, which was a daily occurrence for him before being brought to the past. And mentally going over where you’ve last hidden your gun each morning. A small detail he hasn’t had to worry about since coming here. “Thanks, by the way.” Lou raises an eyebrow at him. “For giving us a place to stay. And buying us food. All of your help, really.” He’s aware of how fucked he and Warren would have been if it wasn’t for her. “Warren’s real lucky to have someone like you. And to have that extend over to me…”

Lou’s waving her hand in dismissal before he’s even finished talking, “it’s nothing. You’re Warren’s friend. As strange as this whole thing is, I guess that kind’ve makes you part of the family. Besides, I’ve watched way too much sci-fi shit to be that phased over how weird this all is, if I’m being honest.”

Guilt washes over Nathan in a wave. He isn’t a friend to Warren. He’s gone as far as yelling at him to confirm that they aren’t. He’d been adamant on the fact because he’d convinced himself that nobody cares. Not really. Even when they seem like they do. Even when they swear that they do. Who was Warren to be any different? But now…Nathan’s torn. He’s not so sure what to believe anymore.

He doesn’t find a sufficient way to continue his conversation with Lou, so he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to drift around the room while he waits for Warren to return. And even though it’s just him and Lou, he doesn’t find it awkward.

Gliding his fingers along one of the bookcases lining the walls, Nathan stops short when he sees an old camera tucked away in one of the corners. With his curiosity getting the better of him, he carefully pries it out to examine it in his hands more closely. It’s a film camera. A Canon AF35M, to be exact. He’s always appreciated the classic look of film to digital, preferring to use a film camera himself.

“Oh, that? That’s Harry’s, he doesn’t use it much anymore since I got him the new model for his birthday earlier this year. You’re free to use it, if you’d like. Warren mentioned you do photography.”

Nathan looks up, slightly surprised, “he did?”

“Yeah, said you never go anywhere without your camera. I’d meant to look for it, though it looks like you beat me to it.”

He looks back down at the camera. He hadn’t touched his own for weeks now. Not since working with Jefferson. In the dark room. Nathan no longer felt the drive to hone his talents because it only left him feeling sick. Like he was back there. Like that part of him was ruined and never to be restored. Corrupted. Because of what he’s done. Losing the one thing he believed he held any real grip over in his life. But just as everything else, he didn’t know how easily that, too, had slipped from his grasp.

Nathan swallows, his throat having gone dry. “No, I shouldn’t.” With shaky fingers, he goes to place the camera back in the spot he found it, but Lou’s hand stops him.

“Please, take it. I should have some batteries lying around somewhere, and I think Harry left some colour film inside it still.” She moves to open a couple of drawers in search of batteries, finding a pair with a triumphant ‘ah ha’ and throwing them Nathan’s way. “Pop these in.” With some reluctance, Nathan complies. And once he’s secured both batteries in their place, him and Lou peer over it in anticipation. “Is it working?” Lou questions over his shoulder.

“Only one way to find out,” Nathan presses down on the shutter lightly until a red light pops up, bringing the camera up to his face. Just as he does so, the door swings open with Warren’s re-arrival. Nathan lifts his gaze through the viewfinder to find Warren decked out in his new 80s attire, an oversized–though, not intentionally–white collared shirt tucked into dark brown corduroy pants fitted with a thick, black belt. Nathan’s a little hung up on the image of Warren, looking quite put together. He comes in with one hand holding up the pyjamas he’s changed out of and the other branding a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste in a way like he just caught a pair of prize fish. “Smile, Graham.” Warren freezes in obvious surprise for only a fraction of a second before his expression breaks out into a wide grin, flashing his newly cleaned teeth.

The camera clicks then whirs to indicate it’s moving on to the next shot. “You found a camera! That’s awesome!” Warren excitedly bounds up to him, tilting his head expectantly as if to see the result of the photo. “Oh, I guess we have to wait to develop them.”

“So it goes,” Lou sighs before picking up the coat she discarded after first arriving. “Anyways, I’m going to head to the lab to get a head start with the reactor. You two take your time and meet me there once you’re ready, alright?” She gestures an open hand at the covered reactor that’s stashed away in the corner next to where Warren stands.

He bends down to grab it and hands it over to her. “Okay, we’ll see you soon then… if you’re sure you don’t need he–”

“I’m sure,” she sends them a wink, already halfway out of the door. “Stay out of trouble!” And then Lou’s gone.

Warren still stands at Nathan’s side, close enough that he gets a whiff of the shampoo Warren used. Nathan’s eyeing him, taking in his damp hair that begins to curl in at his neck as it’s drying. Not a hint of product to tame the wild state it’s in, pieces falling in front of his face haphazardly. Effortlessly styled. Nathan internally grieves for his own hair.

“Oh, right–sorry. Personal space,” Warren holds his hands up innocently, taking a step back. Nathan remains rooted to his spot, frowning slightly.

“I wasn’t–”

“I never should’ve–”

They both start at the same time, cutting off what they’re saying in tandem to wait for the other to continue. “What were you going to say?” Nathan asks before Warren has the chance to first. Warren looks down, chewing his lip as if in contemplation of whether to actually commit to what he began.

“I was going to say,” he clears his throat. “That I shouldn’t have asked you about, uh… I shouldn’t have said anything earlier. I realized it might’ve come off like some sort of interrogation or something and I… didn’t mean it like that. Just, after last night I thought if you ever did feel like talking, that I’m, um. Here.”

Nathan doesn’t say anything, in truth he has no idea how to respond. When Warren first mentioned Rachel, Nathan had been too shaken up to notice he was asking from a place of worry. Too wrapped up in his sense of suffocating guilt that his fight or flight instincts were the only thing left to kick in and maneuver the situation. He had felt interrogated. He felt blamed. And in turn he’d become defensive. Because he is to blame.

Warren twists his hands together, expression scrunching up in unison. “Sorry, I’m overstepping again–just act like I didn’t open my stupid mouth–”

“It’s okay,” Nathan interjects before Warren has the chance to spiral further. “Thanks.”

The evident panic in Warren’s eyes dissipates, letting out a breathy, “sure.” Then he’s bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. Nathan’s attention is acutely drawn to it, aware of how awkward it’s become between them. He sharply turns away, busying himself with the handful of items he needs for getting ready.

The sound of the bed creaking makes him stop, peering back over his shoulder to see Warren settled back on its edge. He’s looking around the room in a way Nathan knows it absent of any thought. “What’re you doing?”

Warren’s focus snaps back to Nathan, blinking at him. “...waiting for you?”

“...why?” Nathan questions Warren with genuine inquiry, though he’s aware it likely comes off more scrutinizing than anything else. Warren, in turn, looks vaguely terrified, so Nathan continues, “if you’re ready, you can go meet up with Lou. I’ll catch up with you once I’m finished. I know you’re probably dying to get back to it.”

“Oh. yeah,” Warren jumps up as if he’d been electrocuted. “Yeah. Totally. Sure.”

Warren doesn’t move, prompting Nathan to gesture toward the door, “okayyyy. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Right.” Warren finally goes to leave, casually tripping over something as he starts to walk past Nathan.

Without much thought, Nathan holds up a hand, making contact with Warren’s chest to stop him. “Hold up, give me the dorm room key before you go.” Warren’s eyes grow wide before he wordlessly complies by fumbling to dig into his pocket. He manages to retrieve it, handing it to Nathan, who finally lowers his hand.

Warren continues standing there until Nathan gives him a weird look, setting him into motion once more. “Okay. See ya.”

Then he’s gone, though, barely a minute passes before there’s a knock at the door. When Nathan opens it, he’s not surprised to see Warren standing there with a grimace, pointing inside the room behind him, “I, uh, forgot my shoes.”

Nathan looks back to see Warren’s shoes lying in the middle of the room. The same obstacle he’d tripped over on his way out prior. Nathan widens the door with a flat expression waiting as Warren creeps back in and hastily puts his shoes on, then sending an embarrassed smile at Nathan on his way back out.

Nathan rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind him, for what he thinks is the final time. But when he turns around he immediately zeros in on the pair of breakfast burritos Lou brought them still sitting on the desk.

He groans, snatching one up and storming out of the room. Warren’s halfway down the hallway when Nathan calls out to him, sending the burrito flying down the dormitories before he’s even fully turned around, “hey dipshit, you forgot this, too!”

-

The scalding temperature of the water hitting his skin underneath the harsh stream of the shower always serves as a contrast to the numbness. It’s become a distraction from the consistent thoughts that circle through his head.

Jefferson. The darkroom. Rachel. The darkroom. Warren…

Warren. A new addition to his thoughts, but not one as unwelcome as the others. A new distraction.

Warren, who’d been there with Nathan after first waking up from his nightmare. A steady hand at his side, and a sight of almost instant alleviation. Nathan doesn’t know what to think of that.

He attempts not to think of it at all, though not with as much fear induced resilience that he is used to forcing upon himself. Nor with being bothered by the fact that his mind lingers back to the subject anyways, to the point where he is able to lessen the intensity of the water's heat and remain in the shower for longer than he usually would.

It’s nice, as he hasn’t had a chance to shower in forever. Feeling grimy, for once more in body than in soul. It feels good to rid himself of it.

When he’s done–and deems it’s been a sufficient amount of time–Nathan returns to Lou’s room to get dressed. He unpacks the last bag containing the change of clothes Lou brought him, pulling out a pair of classic 80s style blue denim jeans that he hoists on. Digging into the bottom of the bag, he lifts out a tight, plaid button down shirt. Nathan hesitates, it’s atrocious. Big, bright blue and orange squares make up the design and Nathan knows he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it. He holds it at arm's length, letting it plop back into the bag. No thanks.

Nathan scans the room for something else. Anything else, stopping when he gets to the discarded pile of pyjamas on the bed that Warren left. Picking up the oversized Grease shirt, he gives it a whiff to make sure it’s even acceptable enough to wear. It smells like… well, it smells like Warren. Like how his sweater smells. It’s indescribable, but not unpleasant.

As Nathan pulls it over his head and proceeds to tuck the shirt into his jeans he briefly considers if his varsity jacket has his own similar distinguishable smell that Warren’s picked up on. And if it, too, isn’t considered unpleasant to him.

Warren had taken it again that morning when leaving. Wordlessly, and somehow as Nathan was hoping he’d do. It remained just as baggy on Warren as it did on Nathan, yet the way Warren holds himself in it is… Nathan doesn’t know. It’s indescribable. Just as the scent he leaves behind on his clothes. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he knows he likes it.

He likes the way Warren’s hands disappear into the sleeves. He likes the way it drapes across his slender shoulders. He likes the way it swallows him whole. He likes the way his brown hair looks in contrast to the maroon of the jacket. A piece of Nathan that Warren wants to have around. A piece of Nathan that doesn’t hurt anyone.

He even likes the stupid way Warren flaps his arms like a stupid bird in those stupid oversized sleeves when he gets caught up in his rambling. The thought makes the corners of his lips quirk upward. Then he rolls his eyes–at himself more than anything else. Ridiculous.

Nathan grabs Warren’s sweater instinctively as part of their newly formed habit, after being reminded from the thought of his jacket. He’d been fond of it even before Warren offered it to him their first night, having been surprised at someone like Warren owning such a piece. Though, not as surprised as when Warren had done the gesture of offering it to him for the night. A surprise that, at the time, had been misinterpreted as disgust–clearly indicated by Warren’s reaction.

He puts it on now, pretty much ready to meet up with Warren and Lou at the lab. But when he goes to look for his shoes, he can’t find them. They’re nowhere near the door where he is sure he kicked them off the previous night. Checking underneath the bed–in case they’d managed to find their way there in the haze of that night–or the corners of the small dorm room proves just as fruitless.

For a split-second Nathan wonders if Warren had taken those, too–but no, Nathan saw him put on his own shoes earlier when he’d–miraculously–forgotten to do so originally after leaving for the lab. With little motivation to continue his search, he eventually gives up. It’s not something Nathan’s extremely hung up on. In complete truth, Nathan’s not bothered at all.

He finds a pair of worn, white converse beside the desk that he pulls onto his feet instead. Lou’s, perhaps, but still in a size that’s comfortable enough to wear. And then he’s straightening up to reach for the doorknob, but something makes him hesitate. On top of the tables sits the camera Lou insisted he use. He’d put it there before he left to shower with no intention to actually pick it back up. The offer was kind, though Nathan doesn’t know if he’s ready to use it.

You don’t deserve it. Warren would think otherwise. But he doesn’t know the extent of what you’ve done.  

Nathan turns away from the camera to face the door, opening it but not leaving. In an impulsive decision, he grabs at the camera and slings it onto his shoulder to cross his body.

Fuck it.

-

Nathan’s outside the lab that the three of them spent the majority of the previous day at, turning the handle to meet with Warren and Lou inside. They don’t so much as glance up at his arrival, heads downturned as they mull over their project and commune in low voices. Nathan couldn’t imagine being so engrossed by something.

Focusing on Warren, Nathan takes in how concentrated he is, never having seen the guy so serious with his eyebrows drawn together and using some plier-looking-type tool to work on something within the disembowelled reactor.

Warren and Lou’s heads are side by side, looking almost like twins as they work away. And with the way the sunlight streams into the lab, Nathan almost wishes he can encapsulate this moment for Warren to look back on. He remembers the film camera now slung across his body, suddenly thankful he’d made the last minute decision to take it with him in the end.

Lining up the shot, Nathan holds his breath before committing to the frame and pressing down on the shutter. The mechanical noise emitting from the camera disturbs the peaceful quiet of the room. Warren’s head immediately snaps up at Nathan, his mouth hung open like he’d been mid-sentence. A second later, his face breaks as he beams at Nathan. Smiling so wide–at Nathan. Like he’s happy to see him.

There’s a tightening in Nathan’s chest that extends to his throat for a fracture of a second because… he can’t recall the last time someone looked at him that way. Not his mom, certainly not his dad. He hasn’t seen his sister in years. Even Vic, who he considers his closest friend, hadn't directed a smile his way that wasn’t filled with reservation for so long he forgets what genuine affection looks like from her anymore.

Nathan doesn’t know what to do with… that. Seizing up as his fight or flight instinct kicks in and settles on freezing in place instead when Warren drops what it is he’s doing.

“Hey!” Warren rounds the lab bench and is bounding up to Nathan’s side. “So I have some good news! Lou and I think we can get the reactor working in time tomorrow to get home!”

Nathan’s stomach drops, “that’s great.”

“But there’s also some bad news…” Warren continues, “the material I used for the lining of the interior walls happens to be, uh…” He pauses to nervously rub at the back of his neck, and Nathan can’t help following the movement. Warren screws up his face before concluding, “pretty pricey.”

Nathan opens his mouth to respond, but Warren cuts back in before he has the chance. “But I have more good news!” Nathan closes his mouth, staring at him expectantly. “There’s a school dance happening tonight that Lou told me about, she said we should go, I think we should, too!”

He’s grasped onto Nathan’s arm in obvious excitement, shaking it a little. His eyes bear into Nathan’s with hopeful naivety and all Nathan can manage is a choked, “okay.”

“Sick!” Warren shakes Nathan’s arm a little more in emphasis before he drops it completely, seemingly distracted as his gaze drifts upward. “Your hair’s all wavy.”

It’s a simple observation, but it instantly makes Nathan feel too perceived. “I didn’t have any product.”

Without warning, Warren reaches out a hand to run through it, “I like it more like this.” Then he drops his hand to motion Nathan over to the lab bench where Lou still sits. “Come, let me show you what we’ve done so far.”

Nathan follows Warren wordlessly, stopping on the opposite side of the lab bench where the reactor sits with its door open. Lou flashes him a smile and a wink, “nice shoes.”

Nathan looks down at the converse strapped to his feet, “oh, I couldn’t find mine.”

“It’s my fault, your shoes were caked in mud so I took the liberty of getting them cleaned. I left those out for you.”

“M-mud?” Nathan stutters, frowning.

Lou cocks her head, “From the storm, perhaps? The one you two got caught in.”

“Yes, very cool, very spiffy new shoes. Nathan looks great in them, now if I can divert your attention over to the time machine…” Warren interrupts, tugging at Nathan’s sleeve in a way that would have made him deck anyone in the past. But instead of doing that–in front of his own mom, no less–Nathan gives Warren the attention he’s seeking.

He peers into the opening of the reactor as Warren begins shooting off about all the repairs and additions the two of them made so far to the inside. Nathan follows along for the first minute or so, until he’s completely lost. He flicks his eyes up at Warren, “no offense, Graham, but I have no idea what you’re talking about anymore.”

Warren drops the two screwdrivers he’d been using to point with–and that Nathan hadn’t realized he’d picked up during the process of his explanation–to meet Nathan’s gaze. “Oh, yeah. No worries. It’s kind’ve a lot, I know.” He’s turned a little red at the interruption and Nathan has to try hard to keep a smirk from twisting the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, I’m sure it’s all super impressive, buddy.”

Warren clears his throat as Lou swoops in, pointing to a single light silver-coloured wall on the inside, “Basically, we need more of this material to coat the inner walls of the reactor. This is about the extent of what Blackwell has to offer and we took it all. I don’t feel comfortable substituting the material with something else at the sake of it not working and, thus, not getting you two boys home. We can outsource it–in fact, I know a hardware store that carries it–but it’s not cheap.”

“How expensive are we talking?” Nathan asks.

Warren and Lou exchange a look before Lou responds. “I want to say it’s about 160 per wall so… almost 500 in total.”

Nathan nods his head. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah…” Warren sighs.

“But I have an idea where we might be able to find that much.”

Warren blinks up at Nathan, concern slowly creasing his features as the shock fades. “Why do I not have a good feeling about this…”

-

“I really don’t have a good feeling about this,” Warren whispers beside Nathan, so close that he thinks Warren might grab onto his arm again. This time lacking in exhilaration.

“Shhh, it’ll be fine.” There’s no need for them to whisper as Nathan leads them both down the hallway of the boys’ dorms. He then stops in front of one of the doors. “I think it’s this one.”

Warren almost knocks into him. “What if he’s in there?”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s not.” Nathan repeats.

“But how–”

“Okay, I don’t know! But could you please shut up?”

Warren’s expression still conveys his unease, but he does as Nathan asks and stops talking. Instead, he watches in horror as Nathan finds a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall and pries it off.

“I don’t think that’s a very–” Nathan interrupts what Warren’s saying as he forces the extinguisher down onto the doorknob. It smashes clean off. “–good Idea.” Warren finishes with added strain.

Nathan discards the extinguisher and pushes the door, swinging it open. They stare into darkness before Nathan flicks on the light switch. The room is in pristine condition, barely even lived in by the looks of it. There’s a bed similar to Lou’s and a matching desk. That’s where the similarities stop, sharing no same coziness that Lou’s room has. No posters hanging on the walls or books or memorabilia littering the space. No fun purple lava lamp that Warren geeked out over for a whole minute and that Nathan, too, has come to regard fondly over, either. It’s just…boring.

There’s nothing here that gives any sort of indication to who Nathan’s dad is as a teenager. Or maybe not what Nathan imagined his dad being like.

“Jeez, is your room this eerily clean, too? This a Prescott thing?” Warren questions as he gazes around the place.

“No.” Nathan hesitates, “I…I don’t think so.” Is his room like this? He shakes his head, pushing the thought from his mind and strides across the room to begin looking for places his dad might’ve tucked a stash of money. “Stand guard at the door in case he comes.”

Raiding his father’s dorm for cash probably isn’t the best idea, Nathan will admit. But seeing as they don’t have any other option, and little time, it still acts as a solution to their problem. Besides, what’s a little cash to someone like Sean Prescott?

He starts under the bed, not surprised when it’s barren, working his way over to the closet with no luck either. Eventually, he gets to the desk, pulling open each drawer in anticipation until he sees a wad of bills held together by an elastic band. “Score.” He counts a little over what they need.

Warren eyes him, “are you sure he’s not going to miss 500 bucks? That’s like…” Warren pauses for a second, “almost equivalent to 1000 dollars in our time.”

Nathan stops mid-closing the drawer to send a scowl Warren’s way, “did you… did you just do that math in your head?”

Warren shrugs, giving Nathan a lopsided smile, “inflation’s a bitch.”

“Whatever,” Nathan rolls his eyes. “And trust me. He can spare it.” He chucks the wad of cash Warren’s way as he squeezes past him through the doorframe. “Here, stash it in your pocket. I’ll be right back.”

Warren fumbles with the money, quickly shovelling it into the varsity jacket as he looks after Nathan with alarm, “where are you going!?”

“Just give me a sec!” Nathan calls over his shoulder. He darts into the washroom, diving into one of the stalls to yank out a roll of toilet paper from its dispenser. He does the same in the next stall over and hastily makes his way back to the room where Warren still peeks out of.

“What’re you doing?” Warren frowns, looking down at the rolls of toilet paper in Nathan’s hands, pressing himself into the door as Nathan slides back inside.

Nathan tosses one to him once inside, “ever TP’d a room before?”

Warren–to his character–effortlessly misses the roll thrown to him, bending down to pick it up. “Can’t say that I have… but, uh, why are we doing this?”

“It’s fun.” Nathan responds, holding one end in his hand while throwing the roll in an arc across the length of the room.

“Right…”

“And it will cover up the real reason we were in here. He’ll just think someone’s messing with him.”

“Oh,” Warren’s eyes light up, “that’s smart!” he lifts up his own roll, launching it straight at Nathan to pelt him in the face.

“Ow! The fuck was that, Graham?!”

“OhmyGod! I am soooo sorry–I didn’t mean–”

But Nathan’s laughing, because, ridiculous. Warren’s ridiculous. He grabs the roll from the floor, “here, nerd, give it another shot. Maybe hold onto the end of it this time, too?” Warren does try again, and this time he manages not to hit Nathan. Before long, the two decorate the entirety of the room, tossing their respective rolls around until streams of toilet paper hang all around them.

“That was fun,” Warren’s beaming at Nathan.

Nathan flings his empty cardboard roll at Warren in an attempt to make him stop smiling at him, “told ya.”

The sound of a door opening echoes in the hallway outside. Warren’s smile instantly drops from his face and he begins scurrying to the entrance of the room. “Shit, it’s him!” He turns his wide eyes back to Nathan.

“Fuck, let’s go!”

“What do we do?!”

“Run!” Nathan’s pushing Warren into the hallway, following after him.

“Excuse me, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Nathan doesn’t even look in the direction where he knows his dad’s coming from–who yells after them now–booking it the opposite way through the dorms and towards the back exit. He holds the backdoor open to usher Warren through, who flies past him and along the back pathway. They’ve barely taken any steps when the back door bursts open behind them. “Hey! Do you know who the fuck I am? Get back here!”

They book it through the main campus with Nathan’s dad hot on their heels. He hasn’t caught up to them, thankfully, but he’s fast, and Nathan’s quickly coming to the conclusion that he’s not as fit as he thought he was. Damn you cigarettes. Perhaps actually playing football in the past would have aided him in this sort of scenario.

“Where are we going??” Warren directs the question to Nathan as they run side by side, sprinting across the grass. A few students look up in interest as they pass. One kid–Argyle?–waggles a hang-loose sign, looking totally zenned out.

“Your car–parking lot,” Nathan responds with a laborious breath. He points to the stairs that lead down towards the lot, chancing a look over his shoulder to see his teenage dad coming at them full speed wearing a stern expression reminiscent of his future self, all too familiar to Nathan growing up. It sends a chill down his body. Too real.

He can practically taste freedom, jumping two steps at a time down the stairs. He’s halfway across the parking lot when–”Ouf!” Nathan whips around just in time to see Warren trip over the last step, crashing to the ground.

“Graham–!”

Nathan’s dad is on him in the next instant, “oh no you don’t, you little shit!” He punches him in the stomach, causing Warren to curl in on himself and roll further into the parking lot, but it doesn’t stop his dad from grabbing at his shoulder to pin Warren back down on his back again. He raises his fist, this time aiming for his face.

The image fills Nathan with a deep-set rage, almost blinded by it, clenching his jaw and charging toward his father. “Get. The fuck. Off him.” He grabs at the raised arm, dragging him off of Warren and onto the ground, throwing his own punch to meet with his face. It’s obvious that his dad hadn’t expected that, startled as he looks up at Nathan.

“Who the fuck–”

“Shut up!” Nathan sends his fist downward again, knocking into his cheek, then his abdomen. He coughs, mimicking the same movement of curling up and falling to the side. Nathan uses it as an opportunity to see if Warren’s okay. He seems to be, as he manages to get back onto his feet. “Go–get to the car!” Warren stares at him in shock. “Now!” He snaps out of it, quickly nodding before he turns away.

Nathan doesn’t anticipate the blow to the side of his head, or how he falls face first onto the gritty asphalt. Pain explodes along the bridge of his nose all the way up to his brow, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it when hands flip him back around. He squints against the bright sky before it’s blotted out with the silhouette of a fist that hovers for only a second, colliding with his nose the next.

His hands fly up to cover his face, gasping for air but choking on his own blood as it begins to run into his throat and pool there. He tries to sit up, but arms pin him down. He can’t see from behind the stars that dance across his vision and once again he feels the brutal strike of a punch against his temple.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” He hears Warren from somewhere above him, then the crushing weight from on top of him is lifted. The muffled grunt of who he assumes is his dad comes from his other side and Nathan scrambles upright, spitting blood in an attempt to breathe. “Come on!’ A gentle hand cups around his arm, helping him up. Nathan blinks, his vision returning to make out Warren’s face–plastered with concern–and beyond him, his car, its doors open and the engine running.

Nathan never thought he’d be so glad to see the old piece of junk, letting Warren guide him back on his feet before throwing himself into the passenger's side of the car. One hand stays pressed over his nose while the other grasps at the door, bringing it towards him to close with haste. Warren’s already beside him, throwing the stick shift into drive and flooring it.

Without the necessity, but with a brash and impulsive decision, Nathan rolls down the window as they rip out of the parking lot. He flings up a middle finger just as his dad struggles to his feet. “Fuck you, Prescott!” he yells the words, though they come out somewhat muffled and wet. But God does it feel good.

“You have no idea what you fucking freaks have gotten yourselves into! Wait ‘til I tell my father about this bullshit! My family will ruin you” He distantly shouts in return, waving a bloody fist in the air. Nathan’s laughing hysterically all the while, probably a hell of a sight with his bloodied teeth and almost broken nose.

“OhGodohGodohGod, are you alright?” Warren’s freaking out, hands clenched around the steering wheel and casting worried glances at Nathan periodically. Periodically meaning every other second.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? How can you be fine!? Your nose–”

“I’m fineeeeee, see?” Nathan adjusts the hand covering his nose to grin at Warren. In return, Warren's face grows a shade paler.

“We should go back–get you to the school nurse–”

Nathan groans, “no, we shouldn’t. I just need some ice. Pull into the first gas station you see.” Warren’s brow creases together and he chews at his bottom lip, but he doesn’t argue further.

Five minutes later, they're pulling into an E-Z Gas. Warren wastes no time as he’s already whipping off his seatbelt and climbing out of the car, “stay right there, I’ll be back in a second!”

Nathan nods from his seated position with his head leaning back against the headrest and his eyes shut. Only as soon as Warren’s left, Nathan proceeds to grapple for the car handle and roll out. He needs fresh air, though he leans heavily on the side of the car as he discovers some bruised ribs at the movement.

Managing to move himself to the front of the car, Nathan props himself up so he can sit on the hood. Warren’s back after only a few minutes, rushing out of the gas station store cradling something that is definitely not ice. “They ran out of ice so I got you a bag of frozen peas instead.”

“Thanks,” Nathan murmurs, lifting out his unbloodied, unused hand.

Warren swats it away, “move your hand, let me see.” Nathan rolls his eyes, but complies, dropping his hand. Warren winces, then steadily raises the peas. He delicately presses over the bridge of his nose, and even though the contact is so carefully done, Nathan inhales sharply through his teeth from the way it stings. “Sorry–I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Nathan squeezes his eyes shut, but finds the pain to be more unbearable when he does. So he opens them, trying to focus on something to ease the sting. For a second all he sees is the vibrant green of the bag until it shifts and Warren comes into view. He’s super focused, brow low like it had been in the lab earlier that day. Lips pressed together in concentration as he studies Nathan’s nose and the gentle application of pressure against it.

Fingers lightly touch the bottom of his chin and Nathan jolts. “Hold still,” Warren breathes out. Nathan does instantly, not daring to breathe himself. He doesn’t even blink, staring at the curve of Warren’s nose that is mere inches from his own face. How had Nathan so carelessly thrown a fist to it not even a week ago? There isn’t any evidence of it happening left to observe, and Nathan doesn’t know if that’s better or if he should be reminded of what he’s done by the fact being evident. Either way, there is a deep regret that comes with the acknowledgement.

Eventually, Warren lowers the bag and hands him a white shirt. Nathan frowns, holding it up to see an obnoxiously bright print reading ‘I Visited Arcadia Bay!’ with a heart and a lighthouse on either side. Nathan peeks around it at Warren with a raised eyebrow.

“I panicked, okay? I didn’t think tissues were going to cut it so I grabbed that.” Nathan refrains from saying anything as he balls it up and holds it under his nose. It’s substantially numb now, so the bleeding has subsided. His eyes idly travel back upward, aware of how close Warren stands in between his legs, still clutching his now partially thawed bag of peas.

Warren seems to notice, too, taking a step back and clearing his throat. He nervously rubs a hand at the back of his neck, “man, he really fucked you up, huh.”

“Yeah. Are you alright?”

Warren waves a hand in dismissal, taking a seat beside Nathan on the hood of the car, “pshh, yeah. My pride’s mostly hurt from taking that dumb fall. Scraped my knee up, but other than that, it’s not so bad. I’ve definitely had worse–” he cuts himself off.

Nathan flinches, realizing he’s alluding to when Nathan did pretty much the exact same thing to him in the exact same parking lot not so long ago. There’s something so cruelly ironic about it. And now he's helping you.

He wants to apologize, the need overtakes him so suddenly. But when he opens his mouth the words can’t come out. They physically don’t manifest, and he realizes it’s because he’s…too afraid.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” so casually put but for the fact that Warren says it so softly, his big, doe-like eyes shyly aimed towards Nathan. So open.

Nathan sighs, “well, I’m glad he beat the shit out of me instead of you back there. And I gotta admit, it was pretty cathartic to do the same to him.” They both laugh at that, not fully, but enough to ease some of the tension Nathan has on his chest.

“That’s kinda messed up, dude.” Warren lightly knocks into Nathan’s shoulder. His easygoing smile falters a little, fidgeting with his hands in his lap and Nathan thinks maybe things still aren’t comfortable after the awkward moment. “Listen, I was thinking… about what things will be like once we get back–and I know you said we can’t be friends and everything, but maybe… well, if you wanted–or, if you are okay with it–perhaps we can still, like, stay. Knowing. Each other.”

Warren’s not looking at Nathan anymore. And Nathan can’t bring himself to look at Warren, either. Warren sounds so genuine, nervous because of how Nathan might react. Nathan swallows, finding it harder than he thought it would be to have this sort of conversation. Never anticipating things between them to go the way they are going. He shifts slightly away from his spot next to Warren, building himself up to respond.

“I can’t go back with you.”

Warren blinks, “Wait, what?”

“It’s really not a big deal, okay. Everything will be alright.”

“What are you talking about? No it won’t! I can’t leave you here.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“But… everything we’ve done, I…” Warren doesn’t get angry, Nathan can’t say he’s surprised. It’s not in his nature, Nathan’s come to realize that. Instead, he holds something so purely represented as grief, it’s hard to look at. And somehow it’s so much worse than if Warren had actually gotten angry. Nathan wishes he did, that he’d lash out at him, swear at him, give Nathan something because it’s easier to deal with. It’s all Nathan's ever known. “I thought we were in this together?”

“Well, you thought wrong!” He snaps.

“I–I don’t understand–”

“Just let it go.” Nathan has to physically turn away from Warren now, not being able to bear the way Warren is looking at him.

“Why?”

“I just can’t, Warren. I–can’t” It’s more than just going back, it’s all of this. Whatever this is. Him and Warren. It’s not fair towards Warren. He’s better off without him. Nathan would just…drag him down. Or worse, a sinister voice that sounds all too familiar snakes into his thoughts. He could be next. The black and white image of Warren lying dead in a landfill flashes through his mind. Nathan physically recoils at that, jumping off the hood of the car.

Warren does the same, “I’m not leaving you.” There’s determination in his voice now.

“God, can’t you take no as a fucking answer?” Nathan turns on Warren. “I said I’d help you and I did! You can go home now, you don’t need me anymore!” He’s getting riled up, Nathan can sense it like a coil tightening further and further all while Waren looks at him with a mixture of pain and confusion. It only adds to Nathan’s frustration. Frustration that he’s building on himself, making it worse. Always making it worse. “And I’m not going to that stupid dance!”

There is genuine hurt reflected in Warren’s expression when Nathan spits the words out. It stings worse than anything he’s ever known, and he regrets them almost instantly.

A normal person would apologize. A shittier person might at least try to reconcile the situation, try to move past it. So he doesn’t know what that makes him when he opts to harden his expression with a dry, “thanks for the shirt,” and start walking away because he doesn’t want to hear what Warren will respond with.

“Where are you going?”

“To be alone.”

“Nathan–”

“I need to be alone.”

Warren doesn’t say anything else. There’s nothing else to say. Nathan just leaves, he doesn’t even bother to cast a glance over his shoulder when he does. He just walks away, no idea where he’s going but knowing there’s truth in his need for solitude.

-

The crashing waves create a steady rhythm for Nathan to breathe alongside. It’s easier than counting to three over and over in his head. And it stops him from thinking of… well, everything.

He stands on the beach, his legs having carried him to the familiar spot in town. If he focuses on the waves, it’s almost like he’d never travelled back in time. There’s something comforting about this place, especially during the off season when it isn’t as populated. He likes the way his shoes sink in the sand and the steadiness of his hands buried in the pockets of his sweater. Warren’s sweater. Warren.

Yeah. That didn’t last long.

He lets out a long sigh, which he wishes he could turn into a scream. But he doesn’t want to scare the lady playing fetch with her dog on the beach. Warren would love this dog. It’s big with splotches of brown and orange and white, whatever that means. With a stubby tail that doesn’t stop wagging the entirety of running up and down the shore, chasing after its stick.

Nathan shouldn’t have left Warren at the gas station. But he knows that if he didn’t he would have suffocated. He needs some time, even if it means being by himself. Even if it means being alone with his thoughts.

Every time he closes his eyes he sees him. Hears him. Feels him. Images that flash through his mind so real he’s almost back there. Hand clamping down on his shoulder as he’s being handed pictures. Pictures of Kate. Of Rachel. Expressions vague and unfocused, faces pressed against a white floor. Pale and doped out of their minds.

Pictures of himself beside Rachel’s body, similarly out of it and unrecognizable save for the dirt he’d woken up with on his cheek and his shoes and pants caked in mud. He hadn’t known where it came from when initially waking up. Not until days later, the pieces clicking together as he’s focusing on the photograph that Jefferson handed to him. Rachel and him. The two of them lying side by side in her grave.

Art, he’d called it. One of his best pieces yet.

That’s when Nathan found out Rachel Amber was dead. Overdosed. His fault.

The thought alone almost makes him vomit. Like he had done when first finding out. And like he did when the posters first started to appear. Her eyes staring into his. They said enough. You did this to me.

So, no. I’m sorry, Warren. Nathan never had any real intention of going back with him.

He cannot, in good conscience, go back there. To the future. If Jefferson’s there, Nathan doesn’t want anything to do with that time. Besides, he shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the people they’ve hurt. Warren would agree.

-

Making a stop by the Two Whales diner, Nathan does a pretty shitty job cleaning himself up in their public washroom. His nose looks…fine, after all the blood’s been washed off of his face. Once he’s finished, he sits at one of the booths. The same one he and Warren sat at back on their first day. Young Joyce is kind enough to offer Nathan a cup of coffee and a burger on the house, seeing as he ‘forgot his money’. He hadn’t planned to mooch for free–declining at first–mostly making the decision to stay at the diner to take shelter from the rain that has started up outside. He wonders if it’s the beginnings of the storm that will carry out the following day. October 10th. The day they’re supposed to go back. But instead, it will just be Warren going, leaving Nathan behind.

Shortly after accepting and devouring his meal–unaware of how hungry he’d become–Nathan catches a bus back to Blackwell. He doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. It’s grown dark out, and Nathan’s clued into the fact that this is the longest he’s been absent of Warren since first coming here. He walks through campus in the steady downfall until he’s back at the dorms. He returns to Lou’s room, using the key still pocketed from that morning to make his way inside.

No one’s there, the two likely having gone to the dance. The one Warren wanted to go to so badly. When Nathan turns on the lamp and turns to look properly in the room his eyes immediately zero in on his varsity jacket hung on the chair at the desk. He can’t help the disappointment that sinks in at the sight. Warren left it behind. Warren finally realized how shitty of a person Nathan is. Confirmed that Nathan is irredeemable. Deserves to be left behind.

He hates me. He hates me. He hates me.

But when he takes a step further into the room he notices the set of clothes laid out on top of the bed. Formal attire, by the looks of it, put out for Nathan beside a cleared space where Warren’s had been. At least, he assumes.

An invitation.

Nathan touches the white collared shirt, lifting it up to check out the twill blazer beneath it. There’s a matching bowtie, too, which is repulsive. But the thought that went into it… Nathan mourns the idea of not having been there when they were picking clothes out. All because he had to ruin things. Push Warren away, again and again.

It’s valid, though. Because the thought of Warren getting too close…Nathan doesn’t want to think about that again. But perhaps…going to the dance–spending one last night with Warren and Lou–couldn’t hurt.

He changes into the shirt–disregarding the bowtie–and keeps his jeans, stepping in front of the mirror when he’s finished buttoning up to the collar. Nathan would be lying to himself if somewhere along the way back to campus he hadn’t already come to the conclusion that he’s not going to stand up Warren at this stupid dance.

Now he just has to see it through.

-

There are a lot of people. The whole thing almost reminds Nathan of some themed Vortex Club party. Almost.

He makes his way through the crowd of people and into the gymnasium, peering around the dimly lit space to find Warren. Nathan spots him a little deeper inside, just off from where students dance. He's decked out in a mint green, frilly collared shirt with the same dark brown corduroy pants and a bowtie similar to the one left at the dorm room–because of course Warren would wear one. Beside him, Lou is wearing a long turquoise satin, puffy-shouldered dress.

Unlike most of the students, they stand idly. Warren’s biting at his lip and turning his head in every direction like he’s looking for something specific. Nathan wonders what it is, concern crawling across his skin.

Lou puts a hand on Warren’s shoulder to force him to look at her. She says something that Nathan can’t make out from the distance and the music that plays. Warren shrugs in return, not really reacting until Lou says something that makes him laugh, coaxing him out of his distracted state. She then takes his hands and starts moving his arms to force him to dance. Warren doesn’t comply straight away, but eventually gives in when Lou lets go to start dancing on her own.

Nathan swings around the camera he still has with him, hoping he’d catch another moment just like this. He finds capturing candid images gives him a sense of fulfillment unlike the pictures he’d taken in the past. It’s still art, just seen through a different lens. One he’d never anticipated himself looking through. He takes the photo, still far enough away where the two shouldn’t notice alongside the sporadic lighting of the party. Yet Warren clocks it immediately, fixing his gaze on Nathan while ceasing all movement.

For a moment, Nathan is struck with panic. Maybe Warren didn’t want Nathan to show up–

“You came!” Warren’s barreling toward Nathan as if he’s going to tackle him to the ground. But he stops just before doing so, almost skidding to a halt. “I was so worried, I didn’t know when you’d come back or if you’d come back! I wanted to wait but Lou said it’d probably be better if I didn’t just sit and wait around and that, you know, you probably needed some space. But I’m just, um, I’m really glad you came.” Warren’s fidgeting now, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Anyways, come this way.”

Warren waves at Nathan to follow him back to where Lou is and she doesn’t hesitate to put her hands on his shoulders, “looking quite dapper there, Nate.” She flashes him a smile.

“You look really good, too,” Nathan gestures at her dress.

Her smile widens, then she gives a little twirl, “why, thank you.” Then she’s giving both Nathan and Warren’s arms a squeeze. “I’m gunna go check out the food they got here, cool?” Nathan watches as she doesn’t wait for an answer and disappears into the crowd.

“What about me, how do I look?” Nathan’s attention snaps back to Warren with surprise, having to stop his lips from quirking into a humoured smile when he notices how serious Warren looks. Or, not serious but rather how he looks at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

Nathan presses his lips together, then narrows his eyes. He takes a step back and begins analyzing Warren in an over the top manner. “Hmmm,” he puts a finger to his chin, attention drawn downwards. He moves to cuff the bottom of Warren’s pants, straightening up once he’s done. “There. Perfect.”

Warren checks out his newly cuffed pants, blinking up at Nathan, “really?”

“What can I say, my fashion sense has finally rubbed off on you. I can’t be more proud.”

Warren laughs at that, “I have you and Lou to thank. You two will have to be my fashion consultants when–uh,” he cuts himself off, the moment growing awkward.

Nathan doesn’t want to let it get weird, so he’s quick to change the subject. “Hey, so what did you and Lou get up to today?”

Warren breathes out in relief, “we used the money that we, uh, procured, and got the rest of the materials we needed!” His eyes have lit up excitedly again, “the reactor’s basically done, thankfully. But I was thinking, tomorrow you, Lou, and I should go to the Two Whales for breakfast! I-if that’s cool. It’d be really nice to all go together. It’s really cool seeing it during this time because–” he laughs awkwardly. “I’m getting worked up about the diner. This probably isn’t the time to be going off about it.”

Nathan shakes his head, “you know, I saw this dog at the beach today that you would’ve loved. Nerded out over it and everything.” Like he does.

“You did!?” Warren presses his hands against his own face, devastated. “Fuck. What kind was it? Was it big? My grandma used to have this giant german shepherd that I used to want to ride like a pony when I was a kid. He was super cute and I begged my parents if we could have him once she died but his name was Max and so I’m kinda glad my cousin ended up getting him instead because when I met Max from school I thought about that and it would’ve been so weird if I had a dog named Max, too, and you know what it’s like when you adopt an animal, you can’t really rename them, I mean you can but it’s kinda too late at that point, especially if they know their name–”

Warren’s eyes grow wide, his pupils along with them and instantly Nathan’s heart stills. What’s wrong what’s wrong what’s wrong is all that repeats in his head as he returns Warren’s shock-struck and particularly serious expression. In the next instant, a smile breaks across Warren’s face and he grabs Nathan’s hand. Whatever Nathan had been expecting, it certainly isn’t that. He’s so caught off guard by the gesture that he lets it happen and watches as Warren begins to bounce excitedly on the spot. “No. Way. This is—I love this song! Come on!” He’s dragging Nathan toward the dance floor before he’s fully tuned into the music that’s playing.

Nathan knows this song. Space Age Love Song, a classic. He didn’t pin Warren as a ‘Flock of Seagulls’ kinda guy. Although, he’s come to realize that he’s never really known Warren at all. Not that Nathan had bothered to try to get to know him in the past, God, the last thing he wanted was to be on some level of speaking terms with someone like Warren. The fact doesn’t surprise him by any means. But… it certainly makes him feel…some sort of way. Huh.

Nathan…liked knowing something about Warren. Something personal. More than the few, very vague things he’s picked up since being around him. Something more. Like he could almost pretend they were just two friends living in the eighties as if it is their reality, hanging out together.

They aren’t. They could never be. But perhaps for a moment he can pretend they are. For a little while. Friends.

He realizes he’s just standing there, completely still while his thoughts drift away. He doesn’t want to think about anything, he wants to be carefree like Warren. So he gives in, just a little, tapping his feet along with the beat and swaying to the rhythm. He probably looks like an idiot, especially next to this guy, but there’s no one here that knows him. Not any other students they know from Blackwell. Not his family. Not–

“You can do better than that, Prescott!” The strobe lights flash a spectrum of colour across Warren’s face, illuminating his awkward dancing and the way he grins–all teeth and squinted eyes–while doing so. Nathan can’t help but mirror the smile, daring to take a step forward as if to risk being pulled into his orbit. He wants to be, though. He wants to be pulled in. For so long he’d been pulling back. From everyone around him. The last time he’d trusted someone… no, he doesn’t want to think about him right now. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment.

It doesn’t matter, anyways. Not when he’s so far from it. Not when Warren’s reaching for his hand again.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Just as Nathan was secretly hoping he’d do, pulling so their arms are above their heads, then Warren’s twisting into a clumsy spin underneath a little arch that their arms have created–forcing Nathan to take part in its execution before the awkward way their limbs have been bent into break them apart. It doesn’t deter Warren in the least, who continues grooving away while Nathan just watches him. All lanky limbs and absolutely no coordination with his own damn feet. It makes Nathan smile, and then he’s laughing, not able to withhold the built up joy from inside his chest. Even when it prompts him to hold his ribs and it hurts to breathe, he doesn’t care. It’s freeing.

Here, on this stupid dance floor with this stupid dork, Nathan could stay here forever. So Nathan rolls his eyes, pretending like he doesn’t want to be coerced into this, when in reality he really, really does, and takes another step closer because he wants to do it again. Because he’s never felt this alive. And they do, for the remainder of the song they just spin and dance and bump into each other. They’re laughing all the while, lost in the flash of lights and in between their fingers momentarily intertwined.

Then there’s something else, like a tightening that replaces the sudden release in his chest. It’s restrictive, making it hard to breathe in a way that doesn’t relate to the pain from his ribs but rather a shortness of breath. And Nathan feels like he’s falling, falling hard towards something. Crashing, really, but not to the floor. His head is light and the room spins around him like the different coloured lights, making him dizzy.

It’s a lot, and the happiness he’s experiencing–if that’s what it can be interpreted as–suddenly feels…wrong. It feels wrong.

It… was a mistake to come here.

Nathan’s retreating a couple of steps before he fully comprehends what it is he is doing. It’s not a dramatic movement by any means, but it still manages to catch Warren’s attention. He instantly stops what he’s doing, his features creasing with worry and Nathan hates it. He hates it. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a growing irritation at seeing the look of concern plastered on Warren’s face and pointed his way. Or maybe it’s from how everything had been fine just a second before. Perfect, even. Only shattering because he’s pulling away from it. Rejecting it.

Why? Why!? Why is he like this?!

Warren takes a step forward, jolting Nathan like an electric shock. He reels back and Warren freezes. “It’s fine, everything’s fine!” Nathan calls out over the music to reassure Warren, or maybe it’s to reassure himself. But Warren doesn’t look convinced. “I’m just, um, kinda thirsty, I’m gunna grab a drink.”

“I’ll grab them for us!” Warren offers enthusiastically, not giving Nathan the chance to respond as he runs off in the direction of the drinks table stationed at the other side of the room. Nathan’s left alone to idly stand under the lights that don’t make him feel so good anymore. The room’s still spinning, but he can’t stay here. He tries, though. He tries to stay, but when a solid minute passes and his skin begins to crawl from restlessness, Nathan hightails it out of there. He blinks and he’s outside, his legs having carried him away while his mind tries to comprehend what it is that’s wrong.

It’s dark. And cold. And Nathan accidentally bumps into a few people that still linger around. He’s still dizzy, even with the absence of the flashing lights from inside. Everyone’s talking, loudly, probably wanting to get away from all the noise inside, but creating too much noise here, too. A lot of them are drunk, leaning against the building or stumbling around, nursing bottles of beer in their arms like it’s inconspicuous. It’s overwhelming and all Nathan wants is to be alone. Again. Like always. So he runs. He runs through the crowd, not really knowing where he’s going but knowing he has to get away.

#hey yalllll back with anotha one #grahamscott #warren graham x Nathan Prescott #nathan x warren #nathan Prescott x warren graham #nathan prescott #warren graham #lis #life is strange fanfiction #back wit that gay shit #sorry if some parts might be kinda funky? i tried going through it since i have to italicize everything again #anyways 🙃 #yay almost done! #part 5 woop woop!

[kirnet]

Don’t Wake the Ancients - Chapter 10

read on ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter

light gore/ injury warning

-

The very foundation of the apartment rattled with a deafening crack. Objects she recognized in a split second, a picture frame, part of a ceramic pot, exploded into Dorotea’s closed bedroom door and embedded a few inches deep. Wisps of foul off-color smoke snaked in underneath, pooling around her feet. Someone shouted, but it quickly devolved into a phlegmy hack.

Dorotea scrambled up, clawing her blankets to the floor as she dove for the gun on her bedside table. Right after her fingers closed around it, she was yanked back. Adam’s arms wrapped tight around her, clasped together right under her rib cage, and her feet almost left the floor as he hauled her away from the door. “What are you-“ There was another massive crash, someone growling low like a feral dog.

“DMB,” Adam coughed into the back of her neck, his grip loosening when she stilled. “We need to leave. Now.” Keeping one hand wrapped around Dorotea, he went to the nightstand and shoved the stun gun into his belt. Then he moved to the window, throwing it up with enough force that the windowsill splintered. Snow fluttered in, seemingly unaware of the commotion just a few feet away.

His fingers fell from her hip when Dorotea stepped back. “But what about-“

The words died in her throat when she turned to Adam. The dove feather whites of his eyes were red rimmed and wet, tears forming in the corners. Blue veins crept up the side of his neck, pulsing and bulging against his pale skin. Mucus fell freely from his nose. He couldn’t settle his inflamed eyes on her; they darted to the door with every shriek and yell. Something heavy collided with it, rattling the hinges. “They’re trained for this,” he managed to force through his constricted throat.

Every trained instinct in Dorotea’s bones told her to throw open the door and start hauling her people away, danger be damned. She knew Adam felt the same. He flexed his hands and tensed with every sound, she was sure that if she wasn’t present he would have torn through her drywall to join his team. Murphy was after her. Leading him away would be everyone’s best bet, both for the ailing vampires and poor Mr. Brian who might still be downstairs. “Ok, Agent-“

He snapped back instantly. Dorotea could only tighten her grip on her sidearm as the door shattered open, heavy clouds of smoke rolling in right behind it. She didn’t have time to search for any familiar forms before Adam scooped her up in one arm, braced the other against the windowsill, and threw them both into the night.

A strangled gasp choked Dorotea as he cleared the fire escape and landed heavily in the alley below, the snow crunching under his weight. He grunted, his brows pinched in pain as he pulled Dorotea to her feet. “We need to get somewhere, anywhere. Somewhere defensible to wait for backup.”

Rocks and cold bit into the underside of her feet. Wayhaven bloomed Dorotea’s mind, every corner and nook and cranny. She hobbled forward, her legs shaky from adrenaline. “We should get to the woods, away from any bystanders.” Adam grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her forward in the direction she had gestured to as her mind tried to keep up. “There’s an old farmhouse, maybe, I don’t know. I don’t-”

Adam kindly interrupted her before she could second guess. “This way?” They ran as fast as Dorotea’s spindly human legs would allow, following her every direction. She kept her fingers clamped around his wrist, wishing that she could feel a pulse in his veins, but the only thing she could feel was clammy skin. The blue veins grew, little streams branching from a great river, until they overtook Adam’s pallid skin. He wheezed almost as much as Dorotea as they ran past brick buildings and over crumbling roads.

The gun was so heavy in her hands. Dorotea gasped as her bare toes scraped against the asphalt. Adam caught her as she stumbled, but then almost dropped her. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. “Christ, are you alright? You can stay here and rest. I can-“ Dorotea frantically swiveled around, trying desperately to catch sight of anything on the pitch black road. “I can find a car, break in-“

“No,” Adam coughed, flecks of blood staining the pristine snow. “A car wouldn’t protect you.”

Dorotea swallowed a lump in her throat. She pressed a hand to his temple and almost yanked it back at the burning heat simmering there. Adam wouldn’t be much protection either, not in this state. And he had gotten out before the cloud of DMB could choke him. “The others… do you think…“

“They’re fine.” Adam didn’t have the energy to snap. “They have to be.” He withdrew from Dorotea’s hand and wiped his mouth, tiny scabs opening on his lips at the action. They didn’t heal. He glanced around, his predator eyes cutting through the darkness. He patted the many pockets in his cargo pants then frowned. “Do you have your phone?”

“No,” Dorotea answered morosely, following his lead. All she had thought to grab was her sidearm.

Adam nodded, his lips thinning as he thought. “We need to keep moving.”

The whole exchange had lasted only a handful of minutes, but both knew it had been too long. The hairs on the back of Dorotea’s neck stood up as they entered the forest, her instinct sure that she was being watched. She hissed as rocks and sticks entered the flesh of her foot, but Adam’s grip stopped her from slowing her pace. Impossible darkness swallowed them; even the snow sucked in the light. All she could see was the dim glow of Adam’s eyes and the translucent color of his hand wrapped around her wrist, so Dorotea could only blindly trust his footing.

But she could hear. Even under the deafening roar of blood circling around her ears, the whisper of water quickly turned into a shout. The map in her mind snapped back into place. “We need to cross. Can you see a large boulder?”

Adam splashed into the stream and picked her up in a smooth motion, her momentum helping. He set her down on the other side, her numb feet feeling nothing but cold. He gestured vaguely downstream. “I think I see it.” His mouth snapped shut as he swiveled his head, his ears pricked for any sound hidden under the gurgle of the stream.

Before Dorotea could ask, a dark shape barreled out from the underbrush. A rush of air ruffled her bangs as Adam shot forward, colliding with the form before its hand could grab her shirt. Hairline fractures snaked up the bark as Adam slammed its back into a nearby tree.

“Run!”

For once in her life, Dorotea listened. Branches snapped and snow crunched behind her, but every time she thought to spare a glance over her shoulder, Adam would shout “I’m here! Go!” All coherent thought was abandoned. Vision narrowed, she crashed into tree and bush, scraping long scratches up her arms and face.

There was a growl and the sound of a body colliding with the earth. Adam gasped, pained, and Dorotea had stopped and turned before she had even noticed it, the barrel of her gun pointed right between a pair of smoldering eyes.

Breath left her lungs, starving her brain. Her finger froze above the trigger.

Lance sat atop Adam’s chest, one knee pushed deep into his throat. The vampire sputtered, but in his weakened state he could only hold Lance’s arms in a deadlock above his face. A pale hunting knife gleamed in the darkness as it inched towards Adam’s bloodshot eye. As Adam writhed and spit with all his might, Lance just stared passively down at him, his consciousness trapped in some far away dream.

Adam spared her a single pleading glance. The knife inched lower.

“Lance!” Dorotea cried, her voice burning her throat. The gun rattled in her hand. He had to be in there somewhere underneath the fog of Murphy’s influence. He would wake up, as if from a nightmare, and the knife would clatter to the ground and the three of them would escape together. “Lance, please!”

He didn’t even look at her. There were more heavy crashes just out of sight.

She could do something. She could save Adam. Under his bulking muscles, Lance was just human. A bullet would be more than enough to stop him. It was her sworn duty to protect her people, and God damn it, Adam was one of them.

Dorotea’s finger closed around the trigger.

As Kenny entered the clearing, Dorotea shot. She dropped the barrel low, aiming the gun towards a nearby patch of soil. It exploded in a shower of dirt, spraying in all directions with a deafening pop. The thralls hissed, their hands snapping up to cover their ears. Adam seized the opportunity and wrestled Lance over, freeing his windpipe. “Leave me! Go!”

Dorotea couldn’t hear him over the new ringing in her ears, but she understood what the flash of his elongated fangs meant. She stumbled back as the thralls came back to their senses, turning only after she watched Lance plunge the knife into Adam’s stomach.

His earth shattering scream drowned out the sound of the second gunshot she blindly fired into the ground. Terror choked her as she ran, and all Dorotea could do was pray that she had bought Adam another precious second. Branches whipped at her, doing everything in their power to snare her as she tumbled through the dark.

Blood filled her mouth, her throat and lungs rubbed raw, but she kept running, the soles of her mangled feet leaving rose petals in the snow. Whatever semblance of direction she had before was gone. She thought of nothing, not Adam or Lance, panic hammering in her chest.

Her knee collided with something solid, then the rest of her body, her momentum doubling her over the object. She wheezed in pain.

A fence post! Dorotea choked back a sob as she ran her numbing fingers over the splinters. The old rotting wood and tetanus-riddled nails could hardly be called a fence anymore, but Dorotea knew what they had used to be. This was the edge of the farmhouse property. By some miracle her feet had stayed true. Now was the farmhouse located up from the fence or down?

“I have to say, I am impressed.”

Dorotea whirled around with a yelp, but she only saw the void. A twig snapped and she turned again, but again saw nothing. The gun was so heavy in her white knuckles as she kept it aloft, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

“I mean, as much as I can be with a human.”

Murphy’s voice dripped from her inner ear and down her spine like an icicle melting with agonizing slowness. Salt stung the cut on her cheeks as her tears rolled over them. “You rat bastard,” she spit out pathetically.

A laugh echoed through the forest, cutting straight to her bones. She whipped back and forth, just missing whatever had run by. She moved, then stopped, her gun swinging back to two blood colored dots glowing in the darkness.

She should have cursed and screamed and demanded answers for all of his crimes. She should have let rage take hold and threatened him with justice long overdue. But she could only tremble as Murphy emerged from the trees, his alabaster fangs set in a wicked smile. The polar blues of his eyes had receded, replaced by red sun pupils. The very forest seemed wary of his presence, bushes and ferns angling away as he walked calmly into the clearing.

Dorotea fired, again and again and again, some bullets pulling wide but most aiming true. Murphy’s pockmarked chest sprayed crimson with every hit, showering the ground below. His skin knit instantly back together under his tattered shirt as he kept advancing.

 Click. Click.

Bile threatened to clog her throat as Dorotea looked at the gun in her hands. Click. Empty.

She tossed the gun and scrambled back. It bounced off his leg and into a snow drift. The mirth in Murphy’s sonorous laugh made her want to claw her eyes out. “Oh, how adorable,” he breathed, miming wiping a tear from his eye.

Whimpers escaped from her chest as she frantically tried to put distance between them. Her heel plowed through the snow and hit something solid, and then she lost all sense of direction. Her back crashed into the ground, her torn pajamas growing wet from the ice.

“You remind me of the last one. She thought she had some fight, too, not that it did her any good.” Dorotea could feel each of his slow steps vibrate through her body as her hands searched for any purchase to pull herself farther back. “Your kind seems very prone to gravity.”

Her hand found something in the dirt: cold and metallic, maybe the length of her middle finger. She turned it upside.

As Murphy touched his shoe to her foot, she closed her eyes and slammed her hand down.

A fire blazed in her veins as the rusty nail went clean through her hand, right through the scab Murphy gave her at the hospital. Dorotea screamed, pain clouding every one of her senses.

“Less impressed,” Murphy tutted, his stare zeroing in on the new wound. “As much as I enjoy tasting your fear, I tire of this game.”

With the last of her energy, Dorotea shot forward, her heart thundering in her chest as she pulled the nail from her flesh. She got maybe half a foot away, her bloody palm slapped against the trunk of a dogwood tree, before something collided with the back of her skull.

Darkness.

-

If Dorotea’s skull didn’t feel like it was splitting open, she would have grumbled about the fact that she had just been in this half-conscious position.

Though her head might have actually been split open. She fought to raise her droopy eyelids, only managing to drink in a meager amount of light. There was some noise to the side of her, the clinking of glass and plastic packets being ripped open. Dorotea went to lift her hand to the back of her skull to check for any wetness when her wrist was forcefully stopped. A belt had been looped around her wrist, securing her to a chair.

“Finally, you’re awake,” Murphy muttered as Dorotea checked the rest of her limbs. Both wrists and ankles were secured, but she could loll her head to the side enough to watch Murphy from the corner of her eye.

The room was illuminated by a series of lanterns and a flood lamp, throwing harsh shadows on the ground before they bled into the surrounding darkness. Wiring ran across the floor in treacherous unsecured ropes, connecting to a rumbling generator just out of sight. Murphy stood at a counter at the edge of the room, haloed by the faint glow of stolen hospital equipment. Wooden slats creaked beneath her weight as Dorotea thrashed against the restraints.

Murphy followed her line of sight as she struggled. “I know, this new location is not ideal.” He pursed his lips. “The cabin had more latent energy to draw from, but sacrifices must be made.”

“Sacrifices?” Dorotea spat, bruises forming on her wrists. “You think you have sacrificed anything?”

“More than you know.” He grabbed something from a tray beside him: a needle. With all the interest of someone watching television static, Murphy jabbed it into a vein in his inner arm. Thick sticky blood filled the tube.

Dorotea gulped, every inch of her body burning despite the cold. “Your experiments,” she began, desperate to distract him from whatever he was about to do. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

Murphy smiled wide. “I’ve lived for hundreds of years. I can talk and work at the same time, you know.” He set the filled vial down and busied himself with something else. “Your blood is anomalous, resistant to any Echo World powers. Extremely rare, even where the fabric between worlds is thin. Truly marvelous what random chance can do, yes? But that doesn’t mean it can’t be improved on.”

“You want to make me… immune? Not just resistant?” Dorotea glanced to the other side. There was a rolling table with some paper notes and a pen, but nothing within reach. She squeezed her hands into fists. Her palm had been securely bandaged.

“Oh, no no. The opposite, actually.” Murphy opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol, the smell singeing Dorotea’s nose even through the distance. He disinfected something, but it was blocked by his body. “For the past seventy-five experiments, I have tried mixing my blood with that of a human’s to boost the other qualities of your blood. Whatever protects you also enhances the powers of whoever consumes it. Like a spicy pepper, I would imagine. The thing that is meant to deter predators is the exact thing that draws them to you. Bonding your blood to mine will hopefully amend that nasty side effect of your resistance to me.”

He had just compared her to a fucking pepper. Rage and nausea battled for dominance in Dorotea’s stomach. “Seventy-seven.”

Murphy looked over his shoulder. “Pardon?”

“I’m your seventy-seventh experiment. Surely that means that what you’re attempting isn’t working.” The image of Janet Greenland’s torn body on a mortuary slab flashed in her mind. “What are you going to do? Inject your blood into me? Eat me after you inevitably kill me?”

“Oh, I’m not killing you. Not this time.” The floorboards creaked, long and low, with every one of his planned steps as he approached. He wheeled an IV stand from just behind her chair. “I had the ratios all wrong before. I was trying to force the mutation. But I see now, I have to alter you slowly and over time to prevent shock.” Dorotea tried to rip free as the IV needle approached her hand, but Murphy rolled his eyes and slapped down on her wrist, trapping her beneath his grip. Terror dulled her pain as the needle entered her skin. “This should be much more pleasant for you than the last one.”

Slow and over time. “Dear God,” Dorotea managed to spit out. “You want me as your blood bag, don’t you? Just a living vial who will follow your every command!”

“Now you get it.” He was so close she could taste his breath. Murphy stuck a needle into her, then another. He grabbed the vial of his coagulated blood and lined it up with one of the tubes. “Don’t worry. Soon you won’t even know to be scared of it.”

Eyes blown wide, Dorotea writhed against the leather, her breath coming out in uneven gasps. “You can’t. It won’t work,” she tried to reason, fear clouding any coherent thought she might grasp onto. “Human bodies reject donated organs or blood or anything that doesn’t match it perfectly. You’re just killing me. I’ll be another waste.”

With an overexaggerated pout, Murphy said, “Don’t sell yourself short, Detective. We’re about to become one. You should be grateful that I’m giving you such a purpose.”

“You’re going to kill me,” she repeated. He was going to kill her. He needed to kill her. Anything other than brainless servitude. Jesus, had he fed on Lance and Kenny? “And Unit Bravo is going to end you.” She imagined Adam’s large hand closing around Murphy’s hand, squeezing until all of the bones popped and splintered. She managed a jittery smile. “You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done to my fucking town and everyone else. You’re gonna pay for Garret.”

Murphy frowned. “Who’s Garret?”

Before Dorotea could register her disgust, Murphy plunged his blood into the tube.

The fire started the second it entered the veins in her wrist. It traveled up her arm, scorching every nerve and cell in its wake. Dorotea’s mouth opened, but she wasn’t sure if she was even making a sound. Her body seized, her teeth clamped together with bone crushing force, just narrowly missing the tip of her tongue. The restrains kept her firmly secured to the chair even as her body melted into nothingness.

Murphy laughed, a glint of teeth.

-

Adam hadn’t worried about a wound in a very long time

Usually he would just pull whatever annoyance had been stabbed into him straight out and his body would take care of the rest. He had almost done just that before he had remembered the fragility of his poisoned body. This experience was more than unpleasant. He hadn’t bled like this in decades, maybe even since he was human. More blood oozed through the bandage packed against his abdomen with every step he took, the guilty knife lost somewhere on the forest floor.

He stopped his circle to watch as two Agency techs ran up to Agent Langford. They talked in hushed tones for a moment before she jerked her arm to the side, every muscle stiff. The techs nodded and raced back to one of the vans, tripping over the underbrush.

“How are you even walking around?” Farah moaned from where she lay slumped against a tree. Foliage poked out of her tangled curls. She peeked a single bloodshot eye open before letting it close. “And why are you doing it so loudly?”

“Be patient,” Nate murmured from beside her. “It takes a while for the antidote to work.”

Farah was their youngest, and while still a competent agent that Adam had trusted with his life time and time again, she was still unused to many of the dangers of the mortal world. The first DMB experience was always memorable.

Morgan made a noise that might have been either an agreement or a curse, the husk of her cigarette stuck deep into her mouth.

“We don’t have time for patience.” More techs scrambled by, trying in vain to follow a collection of footprints in the snow before they reached the upturned mess where Adam and the thralls had fought. Said thralls were currently handcuffed and sedated, Agent Langford wanting to take no chances with their temporary enhanced strength. Lance watched him through hooded eyes, never blinking. The wound in Adam’s stomach itched. “The Detective won’t make it through the night if we don’t find her.”

Their target- Murphy, whatever they were calling him now- would want her to survive. That didn’t mean he was competent enough to actually succeed.

Or maybe he was. Adam thinned his lips.

How had he failed so spectacularly? His team was alive and mostly in one piece, so he could at least think with some clarity. If they hadn’t… Well, Adam’s injury wasn’t the only thing that reminded him of his human past at the moment. But the Detective was still lost somewhere in the countless acres of woods that surrounded them. The thought had him clenching his fists, desperate to close them around something breakable.

He could feel Nate’s eyes on him. “Adam-“

“He’s right.” Unit Bravo snapped to attention as well as the could as Rebecca approached. She looked almost as bad as them, her hair falling from her always-sleek braid and her eyes lined with crimson. “We have no time. Morgan, can you use your pheromones?”

The answer should have been a resounding “no,” but Morgan grit her teeth and rose to her feet. “What do you need me to do?”

Cold fury burned in Agent Langford’s stare as she turned to Lance. “I want his memories,” she said through grit teeth, careful to keep her voice low as another tech passed by. “Whatever you can pull from him. By any means necessary.”

“With all due respect, Agent,” Nate started, getting to his own feet with Adam’s help, “I know this is incredibly difficult-“

“Do you, now?” Rebecca cut him off stoically. And the Detective thought she had no similarities with her mother.

Nate sucked in a long breath. “This goes against every policy. If you don’t want to think of how this might jeopardize your career then think about their wellbeing.” He pointed to Lance. “They’re victims just as much as she is.”

“Their lives aren’t in immediate danger.”

“She’d hate it,” Farah whispered, uncharacteristically sober.

Agent Langford worked her jaw for a long moment. “Better to have her angry than dead. Do it.” She stormed off, a shaky Morgan trailing after her a heavy pause.

“Adam,” Nate pleaded, turning to him. “We can’t-“

“I’ll look around again,” he answered tersely, unsure why he even did. It had to be Nate’s broken expression burrowing its claws in his chest, overriding any of his sense. Agent Langford’s method was equal parts brutal and effective, uncomfortable for sure, but not unreasonable. He shook the thought from his head. “The antidote will work faster if you rest. Keep an eye on Morgan.”

The acrid scent of the Detective’s fear perfumed the air as Adam lumbered into the forest, away from the ever growing swarm of techs and agents. He breathed in deep, breath hitching as another chunk of his skin grew into place with a furious itch. Farah was really the best one for this job, her keen eagle-eyes never missing a snapped twig or a soft indent in the soil. Adam followed the botanical carnage where he had wrestled the thralls down after the gunshots had stunned them.

A cold breeze chilled him through the tatters of his shirt. There had been more gunshots a distance away. East, if his jumbled ears had heard correctly. The Detective had stood her ground.

Probably because she had no other option.

He set off in the best approximation of her last location he could manage. Snow was upturned, but it was like that in every direction, animals spooked by the man-made thunder. Adam ran a bloodstained hand through his hair to dust off the snow, sighing deep.

He paused and breathed again.

Blood.

Adam sped forward with renewed haste. The myriad of cuts that the Detective had earned during their escape had bled but had been quickly covered by the falling snow. This had to be a decent amount.

Tension settled in his shoulders.

He entered the clearing crouched, muscles ready to intercept any movement, keeping the old fence posts to one side. Shell casings glittered like gemstones on the ground. He could taste something else in the air, vampire blood, the same as the one he sensed when he hand wrapped his jacket around the Detective’s shoulders. But it was smothered by the overwhelming presence of her. His fangs grew in his mouth, poking against his bottom lip, as he neared where it was strongest.

A thick line cut through the dirt, jerking suddenly off to one side and ending at a tree. Thick rivulets of blood ran from a palm print over its bark.

Adam bit back a growl. Whatever Murphy had done to her…

He tasted the air again. There was more. He followed the steady trail of drops, all set after a single pair of tracks. She was injured, thrown over Murphy’s shoulder, her arms swinging behind him…

He ran back the moment he realized.

Five minutes ago, Adam would have been winded. But now the DMB was being sucked from his veins, binding to whatever magical antidote the tech had pricked him with. “Stop!” He slid into the clearing a few paces from where Morgan crouched in front of Lance, her eyes as dark as the bags under them. The thrall twitched, tears running from his glassy eyes. “She left a trail for us.”

Adam was even more sure saying it aloud. He pulled a nail from his pocket, rusty from age and from the iron in her blood. It was just the stupid self-sacrificing thing she would do.

“Really?” Nate popped the fingernail he had been worrying out of his mouth.

Agent Langford snapped to attention beside him and pulled the nail from his grasp. “Where?”

“Deeper into the woods. The trail is fresh.” Farah hobbled over, though she looked much more alert than when Adam had left. Morgan was the last to join the circle, brushing leaves from her black jeans as she watched Adam with rapt attention. “We need to move.”

“Agreed. Go ahead and clear the way.” Agent Langford fished something from her pocket and carefully placed it into Adam’s hand.

A ripple of discomfort moved through the vampires. Nate’s eyes widened. “That can’t-“

Agent Langford laughed sardonically. “It’s too late to worry about protocol now.” She nodded, wrinkles creasing around her mouth. “I want my daughter back.”

Adam nodded back, jaw muscles working. He slipped the large syringe of DMB into his pocket. “By any means necessary.”

#dont wake the ancients #twc #my writing #dorotea langford #dont worry she has her tetanus shot shes good

[whitedahlia13]

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

Tagged by the lovely, @kylermalloy. Thank you, love 💕

I thought that I was dreaming (when you said you loved me)

Lydia.

She is with him, and he’s relieved and happy. But she’s weeping, vibrations of her body transferring to his, cool moisture soaking his tee shirt. He strokes her crown, hair like silk gliding under his palm as he says her name.

This Love

Her heart swells and races while her mind desperately tries to catch up, to articulate an answer that is worthy of him. “Stiles, that’s so…”

“Weird?” he cringes, briefly glancing at his sneakers.

“I was going to say incredibly romantic.”

Falling Slowly

“Something came up,” she quoted. “Could you have been any more vague? What was I supposed to think? What if I had sent you a message like that?”

His face reshaped with comprehension. “I... I would’ve freaked out,” he admitted.

He sighed and let go of her arms, but she could still feel his touch, lingering tenderness and heat. She could see the remorse in his eyes too, and it got to her. Stiles got to her, made her regret her harshness and remember why she had gone to his house in the first place.

Lies My Brother Told Me

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of his watch on my wrist. It relentlessly ticks away. Seconds...to minutes...to hours...each of them more cruel than the last, dragging me further away from the last moment he was still alive.

Further from his last smile – through agony, forced for my benefit.

Further from my last plea. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this alone.

Written in the Stars

“Well, I definitely preferred last night's game — for a lot of reasons, but mostly, ‘cause…” He pauses and clears his throat.

She can feel his body tremble underneath her as he emits a shaky breath. “Go ahead,” she encourages, gently running her hands along his sides.

“Because we’re together now,” he explains, eyes flaring with the morning light as he blinks.

A Breath Between Us

Part of him has the distinct feeling that he is making a mistake, that maybe she needs him as much as he needs her. A louder voice reminds him that Lydia is strong and more than capable of taking care of herself. It tells him that if she wanted him to stay, she would just say so. He feels foolish for thinking that he could ever become for her, what she is to him – his salvation, a light in the darkness, the person he wants to give his heart to.

Regression to the Mean

Eventually he decides to lie down, resting his head against her leg. At first, she tenses. Allowing him that close is not exactly her idea of being careful or keeping herself at a safe distance.

But as soon as he glances up at her and asks, “Is this okay?”, every reservation she has evaporates and she nods.

She is sure there is some undeniable force tightening its grip on her when her hands naturally find their way to his hair.

Back Together

Even though they have officially been a couple for months, he always seems astonished when Lydia expresses her feelings for him so openly. He is chewing on his bottom lip, leading her to conclude that he is caught somewhere between trying to figure out what to say and wanting to kiss her again.

Stay

Remember...

She does now…but a few months ago, when the Ghost Riders swept through Beacon Hills, she didn’t remember Stiles at all. She recalls the awful time she endured without him, the constant ache in her heart because there was someone missing from her life, the bleak and hollow feeling when she realized she may not be able to save him. She never wants to experience that again.

The Years Within a Night

Lydia awoke to the haze of sunlight streaming through her window. Her eyes drowsily opened and then focused on a familiar face. At first, she thought she may have been dreaming. Once her mind cleared, she knew she was not.

Stiles was still asleep, and remarkably, he appeared to be completely relaxed – face peaceful, lips parted, breathing calm and steady. 

Er...I don't know ten writers with ten fics or more, but anyone who wants to do this is more than welcome.

#tag game #writing #looking back at older works usually freaks me out #but this was really fun! #I'm proud of these #my writing #stydia #(always) #also that *one* spn fic I wrote #guys I miss sharing chapters with you #but at the rate my WIP is progressing... #let's just say it's gonna be a while #I miss you though #so much #and I will still be writing stydia in 2023 #iltsm #that's my otp #remember I love queue

[baubeautyandthegeek]

The Loss Of Innocence (Happened Before We Met) – Beverly Keane/Candy

A/N: More fic for @julybreakbingo 's post-July bingo.

“Beverly? Bev…. Hey….” Dolly’s arms loop around the woman even as her legs give way, pulling her inside just late enough to see Joe running after the woman. She’s silent as she kneels, cradling Beverly against her. This is the tenth time this has happened and now, finally, she knows what she has to do. She waits for Beverly to be at work, next day, calling Annie Flynn, setting her plan in place. Between them all they can afford to book Beverly a date with a call girl, someone many would call a prostitute, making it easier for Beverly to finally lose her virginity and free herself of Joe’s hunger to ruin her. Beverly is silent, shiveringly shy, when Candy does arrive. The woman’s slim frame, soft brunette hair and gentle storm-colored eyes well suited to Beverly’s tastes, even as Beverly shrinks back. Candy greets Dolly, then Annie, then, finally, Beverly, her smile soft when Beverly lets out a tiny whimper. Her touch is warm, sweetly light, as she takes Beverly’s hand, kissing it softly, then turning the woman’s hand to kiss her palm. “No need to be shy, sweet one… I’m here for you, after all.” Beverly leads her away shyly, their hands tangled together, palms together, fingers entwined. Candy waits until Beverly lets them both inside and has locked the door, moving to gently caress away tears from Beverly’s cheek. “Oh Sweet girl… so much fear. Don’t be afraid, little one, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want…” “I… I want to but I…” A blush, a smile then a shaky laugh. “I’ve never even… kissed… anyone.” Candy’s smile is sweet, warm, gentle and kind as she steps closer, drawing Beverly gently closer, letting their lips meet, coaxing her into a sweet kiss that slowly deepens, letting their foreheads meet as she takes Beverly’s hands again, guiding her slowly to touch, grip her waist, then rest a hand over her heart. The second kiss is deeper, more intimate and Candy smiles when Beverly exhales a shaky laugh, her touch softer still as she smooths a hand over Beverly’s jacket. “Let me at least see that beautiful dress?” Her own Jacket stays tied, for now, easing Beverly into things. Later, layers shed, many more kisses shared, Candy guides Beverly’s hands against her skin, her chest and hip, then lower, letting out a soft noise of pleasure as she presses Beverly’s touch against her. “There now… just trust me, sweet girl.” She’s slower still to touch Beverly, their lips meeting even as she cups and caresses Beverly’s chest, taking her time to slide lower, pressing soft kisses to Beverly’s face when she cries, lips touching each freckle and mark, then slowly pressing kisses across Beverly’s jaw until she’s sure she’s relaxed. The moment of pain flickers, Beverly’s gasp breaking the soft silence and Candy smiles softly, letting their lips meet even as she slowly curls her fingers deeper into Beverly, kissing away tears as she eases Beverly slowly, slowly, into pleasure, her smile soft when Beverly whines softly. “Oh I know Sweetheart, I know, it’s alright, I’ve got you…” It's easier now, Beverly relaxes, trusts her enough to try some touches of her own, eyes blown wide when she feels Candy’s own wet heat, her release following quickly and Candy smiles, coaxing her into taking her time to come down, her own release not so slow in coming, even under Beverly’s shyly uninformed touch. The attempt itself is enough.

#beverly keane #candy #verna tfothou #verna #verna the fall of the house of usher #midnight mass #tfothou #the fall of the house of usher #fall of the house of usher #post july break bingo 2023