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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Misread Details, Part One

CW: Death talk, BBU, dehumanizing language about Box Boys

A Box Boy Serial Killer On the Loose? Part 1 of 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 1 month ago

Hello, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime!

I’ve posted this write-up in a couple other reddits, but someone pointed me to this one as being a good place for discussion, and this is a really weird set of three unsolved murders (well, one death and two murders? Maybe?) and I wanted to see if any of you have some thoughts or maybe more info on these cases.

Three men died within two years in three different cities.

While each death is unique, all of them have one thing in common - fingerprints and DNA from a single human pet was found in every single location.

Let’s start with the first death.

Nathaniel Matthew Benson, who went by “Nanda” (a childhood nickname given to him by a younger brother who couldn’t pronounce his full name as a toddler, apparently), was forty-one years old at the time of his death.

He was born and raised in North Dakota by very strict religious parents, and had three younger brothers and one younger sister. There is some disagreement here about whether his home life was peaceful or not. His younger sister claims that the environment at home was strict but fair, and the family was mostly happy. Two of his three younger brothers tell a different story, about a father who put too much on their shoulders, especially “Nanda” as the eldest, and the pressure they felt to be perfect.

His other brother, the youngest of the family, has never given a public interview beyond a short statement that he and Nanda were not close, and he did not feel able to speak about his character. There were nearly fifteen years between the oldest and youngest childrens’ births, and Nathaniel had moved out of the house by the time the youngest was four years old, so this makes sense.

By all accounts, Nathaniel was an excellent student, getting all A’s throughout his years of education. He was considered quiet and shy, and most of his high school classmates don’t have many standout memories of him. He graduated valedictorian of his high school class, then surprised everyone by stating he wouldn’t be attending college, and instead would be taking a “gap year” to travel the United States using money from his graduation party and also some he’d saved up from working part-time retail and restaurant jobs.

Between ages 18 and 19, he took his small secondhand four-door vehicle around the nation, calling home every week or so to give his family updates, sending postcards, etc. After about six months, though, the phone calls and postcards became fewer and fewer, and eventually he told everyone he had gotten a new job and decided to forgo college entirely.

His family was shocked - and by all accounts his father was furious - but Nathaniel refused to budge.

There was apparently a very hostile phone conversation about one year after this decision which was the last time Nathaniel Benson spoke to his father directly until his death.

After this, his family received only sporadic communications sent from a P.O. Box located in central California, in a mid-sized city known as Dosaba. He never did give anyone an actual home address.

He occasionally called them, mostly his sister and one of his brothers, but surviving family states that the phone number he called from was different every single time, and usually didn’t have a California area code.

“He used burner phones for everything,” Nathaniel’s sister Samantha told WNDR, a local news station, shortly after his mysterious death. “And he would never tell us what job he did. We asked and asked and Nanda would just say ‘oh, this and that’, or ‘I do contractor work’. Just answers that don’t tell you anything. It was all very mysterious, very secretive. You know, we talked about how maybe he’d gotten into drugs or something, but my brother wasn’t a drug user, ever. It just seems so out of character for the brother I knew.”

“He was always reading his Bible when we knew him,” Younger brother Timothy stated. “But you know, I asked him once if he had found a home church wherever he was living, and he laughed and laughed. Then he just said, ‘they’d have a lot of opinions on how I live my life if I did that’, and changed the subject. So I knew whatever he was doing, it probably wasn’t good.”

There has been a lot of speculation by investigators that “Nanda” had indeed picked up employment within some kind of drug smuggling group at this time. Evidence found after his death has even opened the possibility that he worked as a high-end hitman.

There’s a lot of international travel during this time period, far more than can be accounted for unless travel was part of his workplace responsibilities. Employment records show him working as a sales manager for a company called Sunrise Investments, but this is believed by many to be a shell corporation hiding something much, much darker.

However, all of this remains speculative, and there’s never been any proof that Nathaniel Benson did anything but the financial sales the company claims. No one ever did much work with him, and other employees at the company stated contact with him occurred entirely by phone and fax (and then e-mail) at this time.

When investigators pored over the documents after getting a warrant, they weren’t able to find anything suspicious - and that in and of itself seems suspicious to some.

For years, Benson seemed to simply drop off the map entirely when it comes to local information - investigators did find that he owned a vintage Corvette that he fixed up himself (found via vehicle registry and taxes listings, which is public knowledge), and that about two years before his death he bought a large five-bedroom house with a basement in Dosaba, which he renovated in total secrecy. I was able to find records of him paying home taxes through his mortgage company, and that he spoke to local contractors and building companies, paying for consultations about the renovations he undertook.

None of the companies he spoke to kept any kind of detailed notes about these consultations, but you’ll see why it’s relevant when I discuss what was found after his death.

Nathaniel Benson’s life came to an abrupt end on August 16th, 20XX, but nobody would find his body for more than two days.

On August 18th, his cleaning lady arrived for her usual weekly visit to discover him crumpled at the foot of the stairs, face-up. She called 911 immediately and first responders arrived within twenty minutes to her white-faced and nearly silent.

First responders noted that Nathaniel’s eyes were closed, unusual for a violent death. A wet cloth had been laid over them to help them stay that way. The medical examiner stated later that this would have to have been done within the first hour after he died, before rigor mortis could stiffen muscles and lead to them opening again.

That whoever witnessed his death knew to do this is deeply unusual, and may be a sign of affection or grief.

The autopsy found that Nathaniel had met his end approximately 36 hours before he was found, and had died due to an undiagnosed heart defect that had resulted in cardiac arrest.

Sounds like any sudden death that can simply be written off as sad but natural, right? Well, there’s a few details that make things a little murkier than that, and have led to his death being listed as “undetermined” officially, and possibly including foul play.

For one thing, Nathaniel hadn’t simply collapsed next to the stairs - he had fallen, or been pushed, and showed evidence of bone fractures and head trauma consistent with the fall. A bit of blood was found on one step that came from his injuries. This head trauma would likely not have been fatal if he had received medical attention, but cardiac arrest ensured death even if head trauma didn’t.

Did Nathaniel Benson suffer a heart attack and fall down the stairs, dying only when he reached the bottom? Maybe.

Or maybe he really was pushed, the shock of it is the reason he went into cardiac arrest.

There’s one more unusual fact that makes foul play a possibility in this mysterious death.

Nathaniel Benson owned a legally purchased Box Boy, no known legal name, who went by his original purchase number: 334235. The Box Boy was a Romantic designation, and was purchased from Facility 001 in Berras, a city in Southern California, where the WRU headquarters is located.

WRU, when contacted by investigators, easily agreed to meet and provide detectives with information regarding the Box Boy’s purchase, as well as the DNA and fingerprint samples the company keeps on file.

According to WRU’s internal records, this Boxie was not only a designated Romantic, but a specialty Romantic, trained for ‘masochism’. This tracks with multiple books on, shall we say, somewhat salacious interests that Benson had for his love life.

As Benson never seemed to date anyone or maintain a relationship, it’s theorized that the Boxie was his way of dealing with the stress of his work. WRU noted that Benson had contacted them after the purchase was complete to give his compliments on the Boxie’s training and note that he was ‘perfect’ and they ‘got along just fine’.

The Box Boy’s fingerprints were found all over the house, which is totally normal. He was living there full-time, after all. But investigators also located something a bit more unusual: a secret room within the home that the cleaning lady had never seen before, hidden behind a carefully camouflaged door.

This is what Benson had been working on when he ‘renovated’ his newly purchased home: He built a secret dungeon room with stone walls and a concrete floor, outfitted with a dip and a “drain”, plus a garden hose hooked up on one wall.

The room also had rows upon rows of cabinets full of various tools consistent with a ‘hard BDSM lifestyle’, according to one detective. I wasn’t able to get ahold of the actual list of items found, but was able to determine that whips, knives, ‘unspecified implements purchased from adult stores’, and other things were found.

Tests done on the walls and floor showed that blood had been spilled nearly everywhere in the room at one time or another, and large amounts of it. There was also evidence of blood found in Nathaniel Benson’s bedroom, primarily on the floor and in the bed. A small faded stain was found on the headboard just below a set of cuffs hooked into it.

A few small dried bloodstains were also found around the master bathroom sink, and investigators were able to determine the blood matched the DNA of the Box Boy, and was left there much more recently than the rest of the blood in the house, possibly even on the day of Benson’s death.

Here’s the thing, though: the Box Boy himself was nowhere to be found.

Was this Box Boy tired of being used as a human pincushion? Did he take matters into his own hands and commit the ultimate crime a pet can do, killing his owner? If he did, he no doubt knew what happens to pets who kill their owners, usually either being ‘put down’ or wiped clean to be resold.

Is our Boxie a killer right from the start? Or was he only a witness to a natural death who panicked and ran away?

Without locating the Boxie himself, it’s impossible to know.

The cleaning lady remembered him, and gave a description: Somewhere between 5’8” and 5’11”, wiry but with some muscle, usually dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when she was in the house. He has short dark hair, brown eyes, and an angular face. She mentioned visible scars on his arms, but none on his face. She was told to call him only “pet” if she needed to speak to him. She stated his voice was slightly hoarse and rough, as if he had a sore throat all the time.

They had only one significant interaction, where the cleaning lady inquired about a large bruise on the Boxie’s face and bandages on his arms. He apparently told her, at the time, that he ‘liked the reminer’, but thanked her for asking after his health. They never spoke directly again.

The detail about his face being unscarred will become incredibly relevant in parts 2 and 3.

Neighbors, when asked, mentioned that they had seen someone matching that description walking away from the house somewhere around 4 and 5 pm on August 16th. The medical examiner believes Benson died around noon, so this leaves about four or five hours between the death and the Boxie leaving.

He appeared to be walking very quickly and one neighbor noticed he was holding what looked like crumpled cash in one hand and a plastic shopping bag in another.

He was spotted waiting at a nearby bus stop, and footage from a camera mounted inside the bus shows someone matching the Box Boy’s description riding the bus all the way into Dosaba’s historic, artsy downtown. There, he was again captured on CCTV purchasing a one-way train ticket with cash. The train station employee who sold him the ticket remembers offering him a round-trip ticket for a discount, which she always did anyone who asked for a ticket to another city, only to have him “nervously” say he wouldn’t need to come back. She mentioned that he scratched at the side of his neck, and that when he walked away, he looked like his shoes were a little too big for his feet.

It is believed, as Nathaniel Benson was found barefoot but wearing clothing that suggested he had been outside doing yard work just before his death, that the Box Boy stole his shoes.

The fleeing Box Boy is captured one more time on camera as he arrived at his destination, Red Hills, approximately a two-hour train ride to the south. He walks past the CCTV quickly, hunched over as if trying to hide his face.

After that, he disappears.

Red Hills is a significantly larger city than Dosaba, with nearly a million residents within city limits and another 600,000 filling its suburbs and outer neighborhoods. Red Hills is a city that has seen better days, and it would be easy for a runaway Box Boy to simply fade away into its seedier districts. While Red Hills has had more than a dozen runaway Boxies picked up over the years, mostly Romantics who engaged in prostitution to make ends meet, it’s not believed that Benson’s Box Boy knew this when he chose the location.

As Romantic Boxies usually can’t read, it’s believed he simply chose a location he’d overheard someone else say, knowing nothing about what he would find when he got there.

Two days after his death, Nathaniel Benson’s debit and credit cards, Driver’s License, and a folded-up note he had written to himself about buying toothpaste were found in a plastic shopping bag tied-off at the top, were found inside the bus the Boxie had ridden, stuffed between the edge of a seat and the wall. The Boxie’s fingerprints were on everything.

But the Boxie himself wouldn’t be seen again until more than a year later.

Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson’s death for a time remained a one-off unsolved mystery. A little on the unusual side, but entirely possible that no foul play occurred, just some details that need filling in.

The shocking murder of a Red Hills man known locally as “Brute” would bring this Box Boy back into law enforcement’s line of sight, and open up questions about whether the Box Boy had simply been running away from Nathaniel Benson’s death… or leaving to find a new victim.

I’ll post Part 2, about “Brute”, shortly! Then Part 3 will be about a third murder, in which our potential Box Boy serial killer takes out… another serial killer.

I told you this one gets interesting.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary

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daddyissuesingreen · 3 years

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Dominance (Derek Morgan x GN! Reader)

Gif creds: @idiosyncratique

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your friend goes missing and you end up in the presence of Derek Morgan

Warnings: 18+,SMUT, NSFW, Edging, swear words, masturbation (male and female), kidnapping

Word Count: 2,306

A/N: Here’s an original concept for Derek Morgan, it is very smutty, so read at your own risk. i tried to make the smut as general neutral as possible, i did make a few errors by including female pronouns, I tried editing them out, so if i missed any just let me know and I will fix it!

Y/F/N= Your friend’s name Y/L/N= Your last name

You live in the city of St. Louis, one of the unsafest cities in America.

Here in St. Louis there are a ton of robberies, shootings, and death, it seems as if nobody is safe at times, but you never thought it would end up being you or somebody that you cared about who would be somebody’s next target.

Y/F/N was supposed to come to your apartment last night, but they never showed, instantly you grew worried so you called 911.

“Hi, I would like to report a missing person, they are…” You started to speak, but were instantly interrupted.

“Let me transfer you over to Agent Morgan.” The dispatcher said.

Agent Morgan, the FBI is in town?

“Supervisory Special Agent Morgan.” A man spoke over the phone.

“My friend, Y/F/N, was supposed to come over last night, but they never showed up, I think they are missing.” You spoke, your voice cracking.

“Alright, I am going to need you to come into the station so we can ask you some questions, is that alright?”

“Yeah, I can be there in an hour.” You spoke quickly before you hung up the phone.

You quickly put your shoes on and were out the door, driving to the St. Louis Police Department, a place you hoped you would never have to be.

You walked into the building and were greeted by a blonde woman, “I am looking for Agent Morgan.” You say looking around the room.

“You must be here about your friend, I’m Agent Jareau, I will take you to Agent Morgan. Can I get your name?” The lady asked you while she placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the interview rooms.

“ I am Y/N /Y/L/N.” You spoke softly as you entered the room and sat down.

“Alright, I will send Agent Morgan in a few minutes, is there anything I can get you?” She asked while she headed to the door.

“Uhm, no, I am good. Thank you, though.” You smiled smally and she walked out of the room.

After what felt an eternity later, Agent Morgan walked in and sat in front of you, “So, tell me about your friend.”

“Uhm. They are the quiet type, they don’t go out of their way to talk to someone they don’t know unless they have to, they only talk to a few people, they stay home a lot, they aren’t in a relationship. They would never just run off either.” You spoke quickly, trying to make sure you gave him all of the important information and then told the agent what your friend looks like.

“Thank you so much, this helps a lot. What about you? Tell me about yourself.” He looked at you and then in a folder.

“What? Why? How is that important to the investigation? You are looking for my friend, not me.” You looked at him and then the folder.

“Our technical analyst did some digging and you fit our profile. You are in your early 20s, live a secluded life, not a lot of friends, you were average in school, you didn’t party a lot, and we had a piece that wasn’t fitting, and every time we tried to think of something it wouldn’t make sense, that piece? We think our unsub is female. You.” He spoke calmly, but when he said, “you,” he pointed his finger.

Your jaw dropped open, “first, Agent, don’t point at me. That is incredibly rude. And if I kidnapped my friend, why would I be here? I have watched all of those stupid cop shows, I know that would be inserting myself into the investigation and that is what you guys look for.”

The man smiled, “Not this time. And your knowledge of how this all works makes you look even guiltier, so why don’t you just tell me what you did to your friend and the others that were abducted and I will see about cutting you a deal.”

“I don’t need a deal because I didn’t do it.” You crossed your arms and leant back in your chair.

“Okay then.” He smiled again and walked out.

If that man didn’t seem like such a douche, you might have thought his smile was pretty.

You watched the mirror, wondering what man was doing on the other side of it.

“They are refusing a deal? That is when they will break and panic about what prison they will be sent to if they don’t accept.” Reid spoke to Morgan and Rossi.

“Either they are really confident they won’t get caught or they are innocent. Maybe we should explore some other possibilities.” Rossi said to Morgan.

“No need.” Hotchner said as he walked into the space where the other agents were.

“Their friend was just spotted on the outskirts of the city, they said a man took them from their driveway when she was getting ready to leave.” He looked through the window at you.

“So, are we searching for the man?” Morgan asked Hotch.

“No need. They used a log she found while running and when he thought he caught up to them, she hit him in his head and knocked him out and when the officers went to go look for him he was still there. They are bringing them in now.” Hotch said and walked out of the space.

“I guess I better go let them know.” Morgan said and walked into the room you were in.

“Your friend was found and they will be okay, they are in the hospital.” Morgan spoke.

“Did they get the guy?” You asked and stood up.

“Yeah, they are bringing him in now.” He said and opened the door for you to leave.

You look at the man, profiling him like he did to you not long ago, “You need to stop being so confident that you’re right when you aren’t, I know it might be an interrogation tactic but it makes you look stupid, you also have to stop puffing your chest out to prove your dominance, because if we weren’t in a police station, I would dominate you. I’m not a little thing you can just boss around, that is where you were mistaken and that is why the piece fit. You assumed that I could convince people to come with me because I am not intimidating. I think you need to re attend your profiling class.” You said calmly and kept eye contact the whole time, further proving your dominance, what broke your eye contact was an older man laughing.

You turned and faced an older Italian man, “Keep laughing and you’re next.” You smirked and walked away from the agents.

After your experience with the agents you went and checked on your friend at the hospital.

They had obvious injuries and were going to need to see someone for a while after all of this, but other than that they seemed to be okay.

Your phone rang, it was an unknown number, you stepped outside of their room and answered it, “hello?” you asked.

“Hi, this is Derek Morgan I just want-” The agent spoke, but you rolled your eyes and hung up.

“Men.” You scoffed and walked back into your friends room.

“I am going to head home for the night, I have to feed my dog, but I will be back in the morning.” You smiled and gave them a small hug before walking out of the room and going home.

On your way home you notice a car following, “this day just keeps getting worse and worse.” You muttered before pulling into your driveway, pepper spray in hand, you got out of your car and walked to your door as the car pulled in behind your car.

A man emerged from your car and you immediately recognized him, “So the FBI makes house calls to annoy people they accused of being a murderer?” you laughed and put the pepper spray in your purse and opened your door.

The man also laughed, “No, I just wanted to apologize and say you were right about what you said earlier.” he scratched the back of his head.

“Hm. Which part?” You smirked.

“I was hoping all of it...if you’re up to it.” He also smirked and walked up to you at your door.

“This isn’t very professional, Agent,” you placed a hand on his chest, “do you do this after every case.”

“Not usually, but there’s just something about you that makes me want to.” He placed his hand on top of yours.

“And that is?”

“Dominance.” He said and kissed you while pushing you inside the door, kicking it shut.

“Oh. I see,” you pull away from the kiss, “my bedroom is down the hall, first room on the left, be naked when I get in there.”

The man just nodded, any alpha male dominance he tried to act like he had was instantly gone.

After a few short moments you walked into the room, stripping as you walked, and saw the man laying on your bed, already hard, waiting for you.

You smirked at the sight and walked to him slowly.

Once you got to the man, you sat on the bed beside him, looking at his cock and then his face. You grabbed his cock in your hand, spat on it and began to pump it. Derek became a moaning mess within seconds.

“Damn, baby.” He flexed his abs.

“Hm?” You hummed looking at him.

Humming. It gave you an idea.

You removed your hand from his length and bent over his cock and kissed the tip.

He looked at you wide eyed, but then nodded for you to do it.

You first licked all around the tip and massaged his balls.

You then began to suck just the tip, teasing the man who was very rude to you earlier, this is the perfect time to exact your revenge.

“More.” Derek moaned.

“I’ll do as I please.” You smirked and then licked his shaft, keeping your hand on his balls.

You then began to bob your head up and down on his cock, pumping whatever you cannot fit into your mouth.

You increase your speed when you can tell he is close to cumming.

“I’m gonna cu-” You cut him off by removing your mouth from his cock, causing him to lose the feeling of pleasure just before he came.

“What was that for?!” He chuckled and went to put his hand on his cock, but you smack it away.

“You don’t get to cum until I let you, and I don’t want to yet.” You smirked and then placed your hand back on his cock and started to pump it again.

The agent was once again a moaning mess, you watched him as he closed his eyes and began to breathe heavily.

You removed your hand and he looked at you, “Again?” he asked.

“I want you to get yourself off.” You smirked, grabbing his hand and placing it on his cock.

You watched as he began to jerk himself off. You felt yourself getting more and more turned on by the sight.

While you watched the man you could tell he was close again, this time you let him cum.

He let out a loud moan as he released.

You crawled over him backwards and began to ride him.

He went to grab your hips, but you smacked them away. “No touching.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, once again, but he obeyed you.

You bounced up and down on his cock, moaning like there was no tomorrow.

The agent just watched as you bounced, he thrusted up into roughly, earning a moan from the both at you.

While thrusting, Derek reaches your spot easily, something you were not receiving while it was just you bouncing.

“Fuck, Derek.” You moaned loudly.

“You’re so good at this.”

You grabbed his throat, squeezing light, earning a smirk from him, “Shut up, Derek.” You continued to bounce with your hand on his neck.

You felt him twitch while in you, you pulled off of him and laid next to him.

“Watch me.” you reached and began to play with yourself.

You played with it vigorously and moaned loudly.

Derek watched as you got yourself and grabbed his cock, but you told him not to and to just watch.

You let out a loud moan and came while Derek just watched.

“I want you to give me some head.” You said in a chilled toan and Derek just nodded.

Derek put his head in between your legs and licked your sex, you put your hand on the back of his head, pushing him closer.

The feeling of his tongue all of your sex was overwhelming and you quickly came again.

He pulled away and kissed you roughly before pulling abruptly.

Derek flipped you over and quickly pushed himself into you, thrusting quickly.

He slapped your ass and you moaned.

“Do I feel good?” You breathed.

“So good, I might just have to subscribe.” He moaned.

You both hear a ringing come from Derek’s pants.

Derek groaned and pulled out, “that must be my boss. I gotta go. Sorry, sexy.”

Derek got off the bed, as well as you, and you both got dressed.

“You know where I live if you ever want to do this again.” You chuckled as you walked him out.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He kissed your cheek as he opened the door.

“Travel safe.” You smiled out and he left your apartment.

What a night that was, part of you hoped you would hear from him again, but were also happy if it was just a one night stand with the man made of Chocolate Thunder.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #criminal minds #cbs #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #david rossi #david rossi x reader #smut #fanfic #imagine

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letshaikyuu · 4 years

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𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟶 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: when you get a call one afternoon from an unknown number, you decide to answer it; what story lies behind it was beyond your imagination; astronaut!Oikawa Tooru

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: angst, no happy ending, major character death

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2k

» [based on an episode of 911: Lone Star] «

“Hello?”

The line on the other side kept cutting off, unstable and breaking, making it hard to hear the voice on the other end. It wasn’t until a few seconds later, the line seemed to find its way to a stable connection, that you heard a very loud voice on the other side.

“Mom!? Mom, is that you!?” As if it found its perfect position, the line suddenly stabilized. With no more breaks in the line, you could hear the voice perfectly; the voice on the other end completely unfamiliar to you and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t feeling anxious, scared almost, by the fear and panic in the male’s voice, yelling at you through the phone’s speaker.

“I-I’m not your mom,” you looked around your empty apartment, but no one was around while you were lazing on the couch, your favorite TV show playing and a refreshing drink on the table, “I’m hanging up no-“

“NO, WAIT! PLEASE DON’T HANG UP!”

You gulped at the needy tone. The male was certainly frightened, maybe in need of some help, guidance, medical care, but who were you to provide him with any of that. You weren’t supposed to answer the phone in the first place. “Sir, if you were calling 911, you’ve dialed the wrong number-“

“I hoped you were my mother.” Have you not been speaking softly, you would’ve missed it. The loud, booming voice now turned into something so fragile, glass-like; it edged on some kind of sympathy, yet, you felt nervous. “Nobody’s answering the damn phone. Now!? Now when I need them the most, they’re not fucking answering!?”

“Sir, please calm down,” you could clearly notice the fear in your own voice, but tried to mask it by faking a cough, “if you hang up, maybe you’ll get them to answer.”

“Please...” Eyes widening at the obvious cry, you stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the man cry and try to calm down. “I-I’m dying...and no one is answering my calls...”

That definitely didn’t sit right. “Dying!? Sir, you need medical attention then!” But, he only chuckled, sniffles being the only answer on the other end.

“If there’s someone who knows how to treat exposure to radiation 500km above Earth, I’ll gladly take their help.” It was at this point that most would figure out they’re being messed around with, but, he sounded too sincere, too honest and scared to be lying about something like that. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, astronaut sent on a mission from the ISS and currently floating almost 500km above Earth. Nice to meet you stranger.”

“Wait...you’re really calling from a space station!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, aren’t I?”

“B-but..,” you tried to comprehend this new onslaught of weird and rare information, but this conversation began becoming weirder and weirder, “how are you talking to me, then?”

In the distance, you could hear faint typing, as if he were typing on a keyboard and moving around every few seconds. “I’d love to give you all the technical information, but I’m kind of dying, so spare me that part, will you?”

You were shocked at how nonchalant he was acting. He was dying, but the voice from the beginning of the conversation, with the fire and will to survive, screaming out for his mother, seemed to distinguish into nothing but mere realization and acceptance that death was upon him.

“What’s your name, stranger?”

“Y/N...”

You look at the TV, shutting it off so you could hear him better, his voice too weak to be heard above the blaring noise of the TV. “Only 10 minutes left,” you could hear him whisper out softly, his voice hoarse and cracking.

“Why didn’t you call your family?” Talking to someone minutes before their passing was not something you’d call a dream afternoon, but you would never forgive yourself if you cut him off now and slam the phone down, so you kept talking to him.

“I did, but my parents are at work and my sister isn’t answering either. My best friend...he too isn’t answering..,” he voiced out, his furious typing dragging your – and ultimately his – attention away from what was really happening. It felt like a quick break from reality. “So, I’m begging you,” you held your breath as you awaited his next words, “please don’t let me die alone.”

“Let’s play 20 questions!”

Oikawa’s voice became hoarser as he kept talking to the stranger on the phone. He could feel his chest tighten and lungs beg for pure oxygen, but Oikawa knew he wasn’t getting any. His fellow partner, who was with him at the space station, laid dead beside him, the effects of the radiation killing him long before Oikawa could even realize.

He was left alone, with only a stranger’s voice on the other end, talking to him and reminding him that there’s someone who he can talk to mere minutes before death. “I probably have...6 minutes left,” he thought to himself as he moved from each side of the space shuttle, his fingers quickly typing as he put in the last piece of information into the computers. Hopefully, when they find them someday, they’ll be able to see what went wrong and prevent this from ever happening again. Unfortunately, Oikawa had to be the test subject for this.

“20 questions? Oikawa, you do know you have a few minutes left, right?” Your worried voice sounded in his ear and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I just want to know the person I’ll be talking to last a bit more, is that a crime?”

He could hear you let out a small chuckle in return and he smiled. He wanted to keep the atmosphere as light-hearted as possible, even though the clock kept ticking and seconds went by, it seems, faster than usual. He didn’t have much time left, so why waste it on crying?

“Tell me a little bit about yourself. You know, favorite color, animal and all that.”

Oikawa kept typing, but listened intently on what you were saying. To many, it were random things and it didn’t make sense to ask about them, but Oikawa knew what he was doing. Your voice soft, but even though you tried to hide it, there was an evident stutter once in a while and a sharp intake of breath. You’d stop every few seconds to see if he was still breathing, so Oikawa kept humming in reply.

His words became heavy, breathing weaker as his lungs began to die on him. “3 more minutes left...” He whispers out, more to himself than the person he’s talking to. Typing down the last piece of information he finds important to be written down, Oikawa moves to the center of the space shuttle and waits.

He lies down, eyes staring at the ceiling as his body floats aimlessly around the shuttle. His partner long gone in front of him. He closes his eyes, pictures of him and his closest friends and family start flashing before his eyes. So, this is how death looks like, he thought as he wished to hear them one last time before he passes. But, Oikawa knew that some wishes were never made to be fulfilled. It so happens that his greatest wish will be just a long forgotten memory.

However, there’s you, still on the phone with him. You’re still talking, stopping every once in a while to hear his breathing, but instead, you’d only get violent coughing in return. He could hear you sniffling, soft cries being held back by a hand covering your mouth. Oikawa couldn’t imagine how you felt, having to hear someone die with you by their side. He will be forever grateful to you, for sticking by his side while he experienced his last few minutes on Earth. Technically above Earth, but Oikawa didn’t want to go into the technical details.

He looked one last time out the shuttle window, beautiful Earth in front of him. He was so close to it, in the lower layers of the atmosphere, yet, so far to go back and live life. He always wanted to be an astronaut and he’d rather die than give up on his wildest dreams. And, die he will. “1 minute left, huh...”

“Y/N...listen,” he tried to talk through the coughing, but had to stop numerous times, unable to finish the sentence. “T-Tell me how you look like...”

“How I look like? Oikawa, are you sur-“

“I want to picture you before I die. You’re the last person I’ll ever talk to.”

His body shook tremendously from the violent coughing, breathing becoming unstable and finding it hard to voice out any words. His throat almost closed, restricting him of any normal functioning, but, with one last breath, he managed to murmur out:

“Call me Tooru, please, call me Tooru.”

You were talking through your tears, stumbling over your words as you try to describe yourself in the quickest way possible, so that Oikawa knew who he had been talking to moments before death. He became awfully silent, his quiet humming becoming more and more distant, until you couldn’t hear it anymore.

“A-And I have this scar f-from when I-I...” You stopped, wishing to hear him chuckle at your story, his soft laughter picking at your every heart string every time he let it out. From the way he sounded and acted, Oikawa was truly something else.

“T-Tooru? T-Tooru, are you there?” You yelled out frantically, seconds as silent as the dead ticked by with no noise coming from the other side. Just your voice, all by itself, echoing through the space shuttle.

“Tooru!? Oh God, Tooru...please...please no...” The phone slipped from your shaking hand and you let it fall. There was no use in talking anymore when everything was finally over. As violent sobs racked your body, you try to look at the clock through teary eyes. It had only been ten minutes. Ten minutes of you talking to someone you’ve never met. To family and friends talking to each other, ten minutes meant nothing but a part of a longer duration. But, to Oikawa, a son, an uncle, a friend, it meant everything. It meant only 10 minutes of breathing, thinking, and feeling. And then, after those 10 minutes, everything would be gone, like ne never once existed. And to you? To you, those minutes would never go away. They will be forever edged in your brain. The noise of him hardly breathing, talking and telling you how much he appreciates you talking to him. To Oikawa, those 10 minutes had already passed, but to you, those 10 minutes will still be there to haunt you.

‘Breaking news:

ISS has reported the death of two astronauts from their newest mission. The astronauts have been exposed to radiation, their space shuttle still roaming the lower layers of Earth, providing them no protection from the radiation. The ISS express its deepest condolences to the victims’ families.’

It was the day after. Your eyes completely dry from the onslaught of tears yesterday. You looked up at the screen and saw the face you had been talking to. Oikawa Tooru. His handsome face was plastered on your TV, a wide grin on his face as he smiled to the camera.

You didn’t know what made you cry more. His curly brown hair softly falling and framing his face, his deep brown eyes that seemed to grab you in and never let you go or was it something else that couldn’t be seen on screen.

“He had a heart of gold,” you whispered out, more to remind yourself that he will truly be remembered as someone who was pure and kindhearted, a hero who died trying to find out more about the Earth and living his wildest dreams.

To many, that day could have been filled with happiness, sorrow or grief. But, nobody will know knew about the death of two astronauts, far away from Earth. Their sacrifice would only be known a few days later, when the ISS releases its official statement. But, nobody will know about your conversation with him, his last 10 minutes. It was something you’d cherish deeply, until death knocked on your door as well; and, maybe, you will finally able to meet the one that stole your heart – in only ten minutes.

‘ISS also reports that one of the astronauts, Oikawa Tooru, had been found with a smile on his face.’

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa headcanons #hq oikawa #oikawa angst #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

Never Fear (The Winchesters Are Here)

Follow Your Heart

You tried following your heart, once, as a senior in college with straight A’s, a bright future, a career so close you could almost touch it. You were so close to satisfaction. So close to that diploma.

And all at once, that dream ceased to be. And all you could think was my heart must be very very lost.

It all began on a cloudy Friday evening, you were just about to end your shift with the dogs. It was a tangled mess of leashes when you made it back to the animal shelter. Sweat and dog hair covered you, and after a good shower of puppy kisses, you finally untangled yourself from the mass of dogs and return them to their rightful cages.

You refused to meet their sad eyes. You made that mistake, once, and had spent half an hour reassuring each heartbroken dog that they were, indeed, a good boy.

"I’ll see you guys in the morning!" you promised with a wave and a jangle of your dog whistle, and after a reply of barks, you left the building at dusk.

The road was silent, the street lamps weren’t on yet, and the clouds had become heavier in the sky. You had read in the forecast it was going to rain, but hadn't expected this.

The tightness in your chest only continued to build as you made it to the campus. The sun was just barely visible behind the storm clouds that had rolled in. The wind had become cool, and the wind had picked up, sending chills up and down your spine.

Perhaps it was just a combination of paranoia and reasonable worry for a woman walking alone at night to her college dorm, except your blood chilled the moment you unlocked your room and entered.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck were on end. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, and you realized that the window was open, and the harsh breeze was whipping past you.

You laughed it off, feeling silly. Though that night you slept with your cover tight against your chest, back against the wall, and your little silver paring knife under your pillow.

The next day, you experienced the same fear. Except, this time, it was sunny out.

What was triggering these feelings of dread? It was like you couldn’t focus anymore. Everything just felt... itchy. That was the only way you could describe it.

With each day that passed, the source of your terror was slowly revealing itself. Little, weird things that wouldn't be so noticeable to an outsider, but as someone who valued cleanliness and order, it might as well have been an elephant in the room.

Things were never as you left them. On Sunday morning you couldn’t find your hairbrush. Monday evening, your bed was mysteriously unkempt, even though you’d recalled making it that morning. Tuesday, the caps of your perfume bottles were all off and littered on the floor of your bathroom. Someone had been in your dorm.

You didn't have a roommate.

You called the police at midnight on Wednesday, and they showed up to your dorm to find you locked in the bathroom. They chalked it up to a wild imagination. You were three floors up, after all. Nobody was breaking in. You were just a stupid, homesick college student.

Right?

Pah, it wasn’t like you were a senior, or anything. Or that you’d ever even cried wolf in the last three years of living alone. But yeah, sure, call it paranoia.

Three weeks later, there was a knock on your front door.

It startled you enough to send you on your ass. You stared at the door from the floor, and it loomed over you like a bad dream.

Your stalker had been your shadow for almost a month at that point. A gaze that burned into the back of your skull, even when there was no one around. You wanted them to keep their distance.

You stood like a whisper, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoed to the peephole of your door. This was it. There would finally be a face to your terror. Someone you could blame.

A weird combination of disappointment and relief washed over you when you saw two FBI agents instead. Your fear of it being your stalker morphed into a fear of the justice system. Had they come to laugh at you just as the police had?

When they knocked a second time, you opened the door.

They showed you their badges and introduced themselves. "Mind if we come in?" Agent Young asked. He had longer, brown hair and kind eyes. You couldn't hold a gaze with him worth your life.

Strangers in your home, even authorities, made your hackles raise. What the helllllll was all you could think as you welcomed them into your tiny dorm as your legs shook.

A million questions raced around your head at once.

"Could we ask you about the death of your professor? Mr.Cleveland?"

Your heart plummeted and all hope died within you. Oh. This was about that whole freak-show. "What about it?" you said. Your feet shifted.

"Well, it’s said that you were there at the time of his death. Is that true?" Agent Scott asked. He was more intimidating—more rough around the edges—but you supposed he was just professional.

"Um. Uh, yeah. It…" the agents were watching you with intrigue, and you looked to the carpet. "It was horrible." And it was. It was bloody and scary, and all your fault because you had just stood there—watched as the professor died right in front of you.

Upon seeing your haunted look, Agent Scott spoke a little gentler. "Did you see what happened?"

"I—yeah… I saw it all. He—he had been helping me with something. An essay. I was flunking and he suggested a one on one." That had only been a week ago. Your grades had suffered as you juggled your classes. When Mr.Cleveland died... you abandoned college altogether and let the dog whistle collect dust.

"I don’t know… he just…" started dying at your feet. You hadn’t even tried to pick up a phone. You just stood there, and you watched. Your breath picked up. "...he just—"

Agent Young's voice was sympathetic. "He started coughing up blood?"

"Yeah. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking about..." the stalker, you thought. I couldn’t stop thinking about the stalker. "I froze and, a-and I just watched—"

"Easy, easy. It’s okay. We just need to know the details," Agent Scott said.

You paused, then. Something didn’t add up. "Wait... why is the FBI interested in a guy that died of a lung disease?" When the agents exchanged glances, you squinted at them, your anxiety briefly replaced with confusion.

"We don't think it was, erm, lung disease," Agent Scott said. "We think he might have been…" He searched for the word a little too long for your liking. "...uh, poisoned."

"Poisoned?" you yelped. "Who could have… oh god, that makes me a suspect, doesn't it?"

"Unfortunately."

Your stomach sank, and that anxiety returned. "You guys have to know I wouldn't—I would never—"

"If we thought it was you, you would be in custody," Agent Scott informed you curtly.

Agent Young frowned at his partner as if to say not helping and then turned back to you. "We just want to know what you saw that day. Anything weird? Strange noises? Smells?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is there anyone you know who would want to kill Mr.Cleveland?"

This was your chance to tell them about your stalker. If there was anyone who could help you, it was the FBI.

Yet you clammed up. "No, not really," you blurted. "Nobody I can think of, honest. Not to be rude, but I have finals tomorrow. Could you… leave?"

Who were you kidding, your grades had dropped so low lately that even finals wouldn't save you. But they didn't know that.

...probably.

They offered you a trained smile that didn’t reach the eyes. "Of course. We'll get out of your hair. If you think of anything else, here's our card." And with that they left the room.

The tightness in your chest did not ease.

///

That night, you had dreams of monsters and of evil people that could poison someone and smile. You dreamed of your stalker, and them laughing as you choked on your own blood.

You woke up in a cold sweat, eyes snapping open to the glow of an agape window. It was shut when you fell asleep, but it was open now, blowing in a breeze that chilled your blood.

Your dog whistle was gone.

It was a fear like no other. Your gut was screaming at you to launch for the phone. You did, automatically dialling the number on the business card that laid discarded on the other end of the room. You had memorized it after hours of staring at the numbers, debating whether or not to call them, then ultimately deciding not to with anxiety gnawing away at you.

They answered it on the second ring.

"Hello?" said a gruff voice. Agent Scott.

"I remembered something," you blurted. "You-you said to call… if I thought of something..." You trailed off when you saw the clock. "Oh god, it's three in the morning. Maybe this can… this can… this can wait…" It couldn't wait.

"No, wait. What is it? Might be important if it's got you up at three in the morning. Unless it's just finals?"

You shook your head and then realized he couldn't hear that. "Not finals. Someone's been stalking me for the past week. I thought… maybe, I was paranoid. I was... constantly told that I was paranoid. But someone was in here while I was asleep. And might… might still be close."

"Okay, you got a knife?"

"A knife?" You squeaked.

"Yeah. A knife. To defend yourself."

"Oh. Right. Right, okay. Uh. Well, uh, I have a paring knife?"

"You have... a paring knife," he repeated.

"Um, yeah? Is that okay? The dorms have rules against big knives. For safety reasons. It's a silver p—"

"Silver? Okay, you know what? That's fine. That's good. Use that. Is it sharp?"

"Sharp enough, I hope." You ran over to your cabinet, pulling out the knife and holding it to your chest. Your ragged breaths were loud in your ears. "Now what?"

"Well," he said, and you could hear an engine starting in the background. "We should be there in a few minutes. Stay on the phone, you hear me?"

"I—should I have called 911? This has never happened to me—"

"You're doing fine. Now, what made you so sure that someone had been in your room?"

"Well, the open window. I live up a few floors. There is no way they could have opened it unless—"

"Unless someone had been in your room. Alright. Just sit tight, okay? Don't hang up."

"O-okay." The agents will be here soon. They will help me. You had the knife and phone held so close to your chest and tight in your fist that your knuckles were white.

I will not die.

Without warning, you choked. It was wet, coppery, and lukewarm on your tongue. You clawed at your neck for air. You fell to your knees. The phone clattered on the wooden floor'; it buzzed with muffled shouting, but you couldn't pick it up, nor could you answer.

Just then, a massive shadow crawled in from your window, and it grunted like an animal. You barely had enough strength to look at him as trails of red spit hung from your face.

The man had claws. The man had claws. The man—the thing, had—for the love of God, inch long claws.

Down the hallway, there was a muffling of running feet. They would be too late. You realized then: you were probably going to die. You were no fair match.

You could feel the monster’s breath on your neck when the beast abruptly fell down like a sack of potatoes, howling and twisting.

Blindly, you stabbed it in the chest with all your strength, twisting the blade and then collapsing once again into a fit of retching.

The agents burst into the room.

But instead of moving to help you, they tore the room apart in search of something. You couldn’t help but sob in despair. Why weren't they helping you?

But when Agent Scott whipped out a little bag from your drawer and lit it on fire, the choking miraculously ceased.

You melted into the floor to catch your breath again. For a minute everyone just breathed. You really appreciated the minor break.

Agent Young helped you up, closely inspecting your heavy, slightly bloody, zoned-out face, and decided you were okay.

You licked your lips, still not processing any part of the last hour. "What," you said, "just happened."

The agents exchanged looks.

You looked at them. Really looked at them. "You're not FBI, are you?"

Agent Scott shrugged at his partner. "You gonna give her the talk, Sammy, or should I?"

///

"Were-witches," you deadpanned. Monsters, hunters, hex bags, and were-witches.

"Yep," Agent Scott—or Dean Winchester, you were now learning—said. "He probably got a whiff of you covered in dog hair or something. You're lucky we got here in time. The pervert was, I kid you not, jellifying human hearts with dark magic. Like, alive. And then he’d make you regurgitate—" He caught the hard look from Agent Young—Sam—and shut up. "But, yeah. Were-witches."

You frowned. "I can accept witches and werewolves, but… were-witches? For real?"

"Trust me, we didn't know they existed either," Sam informed you.

Dean laughed to himself. "Hey Sammy, should we call him a son of a witch or a son of a bi—" His smile faltered with both Sam and your glaring. "Get it? Witch jokes? Dog jokes? Sheesh, okay, you guys are seriously no fun."

Sam sighed. "We should probably take the, um, dead werewitch, out of here."

You followed his eyes to the heap of fur on your floor. Seeing your stalker dead was a major weight off your shoulders. It was such a relief that you felt high.

Sam was still talking. "—and you have finals?"

You sobered. "Right. Those." Like you would do anything except bomb them.

Sam must have known the look. "You haven't studied, have you? At all."

Shaking your head, you slumped into the mattress. "Nope. This stalker thing screwed me up big time. There's just no way." You sighed. Sam's dark look made you squint at him. "What?"

"I just, uh, know the feeling," Sam said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "I got a free ride to law school before the hunting life took me away. I was already a hunter, I didn't have a choice. But you still do. You can still have that life you want." He tapped the card, still on the desk from his last visit. "Stay out of trouble and call us whenever. Especially if it's three in the morning."

Right then, you noticed the dog whistle was back, as if it had never left. Realization hit you like a brick to the head. "You did that! You blew the whistle."

"Yeah, well, I knew it was a werewolf. So I took a gamble and… borrowed it. Guess I didn't think you'd miss it—it was pretty dusty."

"You stole my whistle!"

"Hey, no, I borrowed it—"

"You gave me a heart attack! I thought the werewitch had stolen it! That's what set me off and made me call you—not the window!"

Dean cracked a smile. "Hey, it saved you, though, yeah? If I hadn't taken it, who's to say I could have saved your damsel ass?"

"Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean said automatically.

You blinked in surprise at the speed of his reply.

His eyes widened. "Sorry. That's… uh, Sam usually says that and I respond with…"

You laughed. Really laughed. You doubled over, struggling to breathe for the second time today, but this time it was welcome. The Winchesters inevitably joined in as you howled. You wiped away your tears of laughter, occasionally breaking into a smaller fit.

"You good?" Dean asked, grinning,

You sighed, the hysteria wearing off. "God, it wasn't even that funny! You just caught me by surprise. Thanks, though. For saving me, and all."

Dean smiled, patting you on the back. "No problem, kid."

You settled into a comfortable silence. You were still trying to calm down as they watched you with looks of fondness.

"Are you going to be able to sleep?" Sam asked.

You knew what he meant: were you going to be able to sleep alone? And honestly, you had a feeling you would sleep like a baby tonight. However, you had no purpose staying here anymore. "Would I be stepping too far if I asked to come with you? Just for the night."

"Of course."

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my-emotional-self · 5 years

Text

Forever Ago Chapter 1

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: After losing touch with your childhood best friend since graduation, he comes crashing back into your life 15 years later. The feelings you’ve had for him never left you. But do you forgive him for all those years he ignored you? Or do you decide he lost his chance with you for good?

A/N: This will be a slow burn (even though there will only be 10 chapters or less lol) Also, there will be a lot of flashbacks in this story. Thank you to @guera31 for the idea! She sent me this idea way back in November!

Your alarm clock blared, waking you from a wonderfully beautiful dream. “Fucking clock,” you groaned as you slammed your hand against the annoying contraption. Turning onto your back, you let out a huff of annoyance; pinching the bridge of your nose.

The dream you had was very intimate; sexually intimate. It was of you and your life long best friend; well, until the two of you moved away to college and he practically started to ignore you. To say you were heartbroken was a bit of an understatement. You were in love with him, since about eighth grade and unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried to forget him, those feelings were still there.

However, you were unsure if you could ever forgive him for ignoring you all these years. Sure, he moved on to become an actor and made a name for him, but come on! He was your best friend since kindergarten for fucks sake. You should have meant more to him; at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

With another whine of irritation, you forced the covers off your body and slowly made your way into the bathroom. Turning on the light, you had to blind your eyes from the brightness. “Fucking Sebastian and his damn party,” you spoke to nobody but yourself as you flipped the switch to the fan and turned on the shower.

The cold water helped to wake you up and to also help with the ache between your legs; all because of your damn dream. Soon enough, you were quite alert and you switched the dial as the hot water cascaded down your body; your mind going back to when you first met Chris.

Summer of 1986

You were only five years old when you moved with your parents to a new town; a new state. Coming from the Midwest, you were rather excited, yet nervous, to move so far from the only home you had ever known.

“Are you nervous Jessica?” your mother asked from the front seat, turning around and giving you the soft warm smile that you so adoringly loved.

“A little,” came your quiet mouse like voice. You hadn’t even started kindergarten yet, but you still had friends back home and you were nervous you wouldn’t make any new ones. “What if nobody likes me?”

You heard your father gasp from the driver’s seat. “How could you even say that Jess? Everybody loves you sweetheart. Trust me. In no time you will have plenty of friends.”

Looking down at your lap, you began to flip through your picture book of the East Coast, hoping to sooth your nerves. After some time, you drifted off to sleep.

“Jess….Jessica honey we’re here. We’re at our new home!” Feeling your mother shake you awake, you slowly opened your sleepy eyes. Looking out the window, you saw a beautiful large brick house which was much larger than the house you grew up in.

“Wow,” you breathed out as your mother helped you unbuckle your seatbelt; a soft chuckle coming from her lips. “We’re rich!” you squealed with joy.

This time, it was your father who laughed loudly. “Well, you remember that I got a new job right sweetheart?” You nodded. “And along with that job came a promotion. Do you know what that means?” Scrunching up your small eyebrows, you shook your head. “It means I get more money. The company also helped pay for relocation, which means your mother and I got to finally get our dream home where we can raise you….our beautiful perfect daughter.” You giggled as your father picked you up and twirled you around.

You didn’t remember much, except the movers moving all the boxes into the house and your mother showing you your new room. It was absolutely perfect and much bigger than your old room. “I get my own bathroom?” you cheered as your mother showed you around your room.

“That’s right. But you have to be a big girl for me and try to keep it clean. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes mommy!” you yelled, jumping up and down. She left you to unpack your own belongings. The one thing you loved most about your parents is that no matter your age, they taught you how to be independent as they wanted you to grow up and be an independent woman.

As you began to put all your belongings and knickknacks onto the shelving unit, you heard your mother calling for you. “Jessica, will you please come down here?”

Hopping down the steps, you found your mother at the front door with another woman. She had a very warm smile and you instantly felt a sort of connection to her, as if you knew you would be safe around her.

“Jessica, this is one of our new neighbors, Lisa.”

“Hello Lisa. It is nice to meet you,” your shy voice spoke.

“Oh my. Well aren’t you just a doll,” she cooed and you couldn’t help but giggle. Your mother always telling you how much you looked like a doll, which you loved. “How old are you sweetie?”

“I’m five!” you spoke with confidence as you held up five fingers. Both Lisa and your mother giggled at your ways.

“Well, it just so happens my son is five years old. It looks like you two will be starting school together in the fall. Maybe we should set up a playdate so you could meet him. What do you think of that?”

Your small face scrunched up before you answered her. “He doesn’t have cooties does he?” Now both of the women were laughing hysterically, clenching their chests.

“No my sweet girl. I can promise you he doesn’t have cooties.”

~~~

Two days later, you were walking across the street with your mother; her hand in yours. She rang the doorbell and the familiar face of Lisa answered it. “Oh I’m so happy you two could make it!” she said with a bright smile on her face. “Christopher, come down here please.”

You heard the familiar thumping on the stairs before a boy emerged. “Hi there!” he remarked with his own smile. “I’m Chris.”

“It’s so nice to meet you Chris. My name is Charlotte and this is my daughter Jessica.” He politely shook your mothers hand before he turned to you and hugged you.

“I already know we are going to be great friends.” You smiled at his words before he quickly took your hand in his, leading you upstairs. “My birthday was last month and I got a bunch of new toys. Do you want to see them?”

By then you were stopped at the door to his room. You nodded your head, a wide grin on your face. “Yes!”

End Flashback

Looking down at your hands, you were now all wrinkly. Finishing up your shower quickly, you got out and wrapped yourself in your thick comfy robe. Walking out of the bathroom, you shivered at the loss of heat as you made your way to the kitchen. Getting yourself a cup of coffee, you looked around your small apartment.

It was one of your greatest gifts you ever gave yourself. New York City was never somewhere you imagined to live, yet here you were. Your apartment was small, just a bit larger than a studio as you had a separate room for your bedroom. But it was quaint; just the way you wanted it.

Taking a sip of coffee, and your mind on Chris, more memories came flooding back.

Fall of 1986

“Who is your teacher?” Chris asked as the two of you sat next to each other on the bus.

“Mrs. Smith,” you responded, trying to smile but you were nervous for your first day of kindergarten and it was evident to Chris.

His eyes perked up. “Me too!” You felt a sense of relief wash over you as you realized you had a friend with you to start school. Over the course of summer, you and Chris became inseparable; along with both of your mothers. Almost on a daily basis you were either at Chris’ house, or he was at yours while your mothers hung out together. You loved having a friend so fast as you were so worried you wouldn’t know anybody by the time you started school.

“Don’t worry about school. We’ll be together and that’s all that matters.” He patted your hand and you smiled at him; ready to start your first year of school with your new friend.

End Flashback

You smiled to yourself at the memory of Chris. But your heart broke at the same time; remembering that he left you high and dry after all these years.

As you took the last sip of your warm coffee, your phone began to ring. Rushing to your room, you saw that it was Sebastian calling.

“911, what’s your emergency?” you answered with a grin.

“Oh you’re so funny,” Sebastian remarked sarcastically.

“I know I am thank you very much.”

“You’re still coming tonight right?” How could you forget? Sebastian practically programmed his little friend get-together into the calendar on your phone.

“Yes I’ll be there. It’s not like I have anything else planned.”

“Yeah, except to lounge around in your pajamas and binge watch Netflix all day and night.”

“Hey now! There is nothing wrong with that!”

Sebastian laughed. “No there isn’t. But you need to get out more often. You need to get a life Jessica.”

You scoffed at his remark. “I’m offended that you just said that about me.”

“You know it’s true. Anyways, there will be single guys there tonight. I invited them just for you so you could finally meet a guy and go on a date. Let’s be real, you need to get laid.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing full and well he couldn’t see you. “Yeah whatever. Get over my non-existent sex life already will ya?”

“Never gonna happen,” he teased.

“Ugh, get your own life Seb. I’ll see you tonight..bbbyyyeee.” You hung up the phone before he could badger you anymore.

Trying to shake the nerves from your body, you began to clean up your small apartment. Sebastian had asked you to this little friend get together a few weeks ago and since you didn’t have anything planned, you were up for it. But now that the party was today, you were starting to become on edge.

You knew that a few of his Avengers co-stars would be there, including Jeremy Renner and Ashely Olsen to name a few; probably even more. But it was Chris you were worried about the most. No matter how close you and Sebastian became over the last couple of years; you never once mentioned that you not only knew Chris Evans, but that you were best friends with him growing up.

It wasn’t that you were insecure about coming forward with the truth; it was just that after high school, you and Chris drifted so far apart. And it wasn’t on your behalf. You tried getting into contact with him numerous times, but as the years went on, the texts and phone calls became fewer and fewer, until all of a sudden, he just stopped returning your calls and texts.

“Fucking Sebastian and your parties,” you complained yet again, to nobody but yourself.

Tag List: @patzammit @brastrangled @miss-cap21 @princess-evans-addict@pumbibaby @marvelouslyme96 @kanupps06 @zohoffman @the-real-kellymonster @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @remember-that-one-blog@sincerelyfan @projectxhappiness@libbitinasdeath@hispeculiartreasure@guera31 @ssweet-empowerment@sfreeborn @jjlevin@badassbaker@sophiealiice @supernatural-girl97@coffeebooksandfandom@esoltis280@poerebel @laochbaineann @crushed-pink-petals@thisismysecrethappyplace @mrs-captain-evans

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x oc #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #chris evans story #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction

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dekuimagines · 5 years

Note

Hey can I please have a scenario where Reader finds Dabi wounded and doesn't have the heart to leave him there so they take him in and pach him up until he's better and after that he kind of keeps visiting them? Sorry my internet is kinda bad and this might've not sent the first time so sorry if I sent it twice. Have a nice day/night!

So I sort of love this idea so much??? I’ve been staring at it in my asks for a while because finals suck but I hope you like it!

A cold wind blew across their face as they walked at a brisk pace down a nearly empty street. It was late and they didn’t like how there seemed to be nobody else around. Living in a denser part of the city quiet wasn’t their norm they were used to the constant noise of trains running or some form of sirens going every which way. Tonight though there was silence. ( Y/N) kept their ears open for a sound a scrap of shoes against the pavement, the skitter of an alley cat something. Anything. Then they heard it, it was low both in terms of octaves and location. While all logical parts of their brain told them to just keep going home and to not bother. There was a sort of urge a need to know what created that sort of half groan half grunt of pain. Something deep down urged them to check and make sure everything was okay. They never expected to find a man who was in less than ideal shape with blood coating his white shirt. They also never expected to be half carrying half dragging the man to their apartment and spending the next four hours cleaning him up and bandaging his wounds.

For the record, the night could have gone a lot worse for Dabi he was actually just lucky to be alive, while usually, he was pretty capable of taking care of himself he seemed to have gotten in a little bit over his head. He was new to this whole villain thing and personally, he was still getting used to it himself. Coming up with a new name and using his quirk took a toll on his body. He was barely conscious of the entire ordeal of being dragged somewhere. Some part of his mind just assumed that the gang had found him and were just going to finish him off. Not that anyone would miss him anyway. His family already assumed he was dead thanks to his old man. So when he woke up with his body bandaged and on a random couch, he was a little more than surprised. He moved to try to get up but heard a voice say.

“ I wouldn’t do that” which caused him to stop well it wasn’t just the voice the pain that surged through his body was also a rather large factor. He looked over at the person in which the voice had come from they had ( h/c ) that seemed to frame their face in such a matter drawing attention to their ( e/c ). He then took notice of the glass of water that they had in one hand and what he could only assume was pain killer in the other. “ I’m glad to see you’re awake, I was getting worried that you would just never wake up. “ they said while handing him some pills and the glass of water. His blue eyes watched them but he remained silent. They seemed nice enough but for someone who had never experienced kindness once in his life, he couldn’t help but act suspicious. While he took the pills he heard their voice again “ Oh how rude of me I’m ( y/n) by the way “

“ Dabi” he grunted back as he laid on the couch everything too sore too even think about moving. “ Why did you…..Save me?” he asked as he didn’t bother to look at them he heard some shuffling and glanced over to see they had taken a seat on the small recliner next to the sofa that he was currently sprawled out on.

“ Well you looked like you needed help and I guess a part of me didn’t feel right leaving you out there to die,” they said, in all honesty, they had been asking themselves that very same question all morning while they waited for the man…Dabi to wake up. They had never done anything like this before. Something so impulsive, so unorthodox. Why didn’t they just take him to the hospital? Or just called 911 when they saw him. Perhaps a part of them knew hat he wasn’t normal. “ You also didn’t seem like someone who could just go to the hospital” they finally admitted turning their gaze back towards Dabi who already had their gaze locked onto them. Had he been looking at them the whole time?

Dabi was mildly surprised by the sheer level of honesty that he got from someone who was nothing less than a complete stranger to him. “ Well, you are right about the hospital part” he finally admitted but kept the explanation to just that. The less they know the better.

It took a couple of weeks for Dabi to fully recover while ( y/n) slowly nursed him back to health he had found out a lot of about them like how they worked late night shifts at the hospital a couple of blocks away. Which was how they were able to treat him so well. They were kind to him and didn’t press him for answers or even ask prying questions and as soon as he was strong enough he had left.

For some reason, he couldn’t help but remember ( y/n) in the lulls of his life when he first joined the league was the first time that he had visited them since that night. Climbing in through the fire escape he lounged on the kitchen counter till he heard the door open. “ Miss me?” he asked after a brief scream from them at the sheer shock of someone else being in their home.

“ Dabi what are you doing here?” they asked and moved to inspect his body for any injuries as he chuckled slightly.

“ I’m not injured I just popped by to say hello, “ the two of them talked for a while then just like after he got better he left without saying goodbye.

The third and fourth time went much like the first he would just be at their house when they got home and they would talk while ( y/n) made some food for themselves. It soon became a regular thing where Dabi would visit and they would eat together then he would leave again without saying goodbye but ( y/n) didn’t mind they could only assume that him not saying goodbye simply meant that they would see him again and deep down they preferred that.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #bnha imagine #dabi is a todoroki #i feel like i need more tags

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leelee10898 · 5 years

Text

Chikara: Itami (4/?)

Summary: Ellie has been saved, but how will the events of the attack effect her? Meanwhile in California, the brotherhood makes another move. The word Itami, roughly translates to pain.

Catch up HERE. As always if you'd like added to the tags, let me know. Also I apologize in advance, tumblr apparently hates the read more feature stil....

Raiting: Mature. Series contains Violence, language, death and Lemons..

Compton, California….

Ximena slipped out to her red SUV, she had it painted to try to throw the brotherhood off her trail. The night Jason was arrested she took off for Compton. An old friend had a house she could crash and lay low for a while, the only person who knew her whereabouts was Colt. With him showing up she would need to put some effort in relocating again, keeping the trail Cold. A quick trip to the 24 hour market for some groceries and she was headed back to her safe house. Not a soul in sight she slowed to a stop at the sign and signaled right. Suddenly a car with no lights came out of nowhere plowing into her car, sending it spinning around 3 times before coming to a stop.

[[MORE]]

Ximena hit her head on the window, her body jostled around from the collision. She tried to turn the engine over to no avail. Fuck she growled, reaching for her baseball batt she kept tucked away in the back seat. She could make out two figures stepping out of the vehicle behind her. She quickly assessed her surroundings, her only vantage point was her car stopped crooked, her passenger side a blind spot. She carefully climbed into the passenger seat, quietly opening the door and slipping out.

"Hester warned us about her, she's tough. Stay alert." She heard one of them say as she stayed hidden in the shadows. Come on. Come on. Just a little closer. she thought to herself. "The doors open, she's gone. Check the alley." The other man spoke, as she heard footsteps approaching. Lucky for her, he passed by where she was standing. Once he turned to leave she jumped out from behind the dumpster, swinging the bat at the man, he hit the ground with a thud. She took off running towards her car, the other man on her tail. He lunged at her, grabbing her waist. He was larger than her, not giving her much advantage she struggled against the man finally wriggling free. "You son of a bitch." She swung her arm, the man ducking and landing a blow to her side.

Ximena clutched her side, fire raging through her veins, "big mistake asshole." She reached out grabbing the thug by this neck, bringing her free hand up to punch him in the jaw. The man struggled against her as She backed him up against the wall, pushing him up against it with force, knocking him out cold. Rushing to her car she climbed in the passenger side, settling behind the wheel. "Come on. Come on." She grunted turning the key, as the engine sputtered. She noticed the other man emerging from the alley way, wielding a baseball bat. Finally the engine roared to life, the man jumped in front of the car, ximena clipped him with the passenger side, sending him flying backwards.

She picked up her phone, frantically searching for a number. "Colt. Its ximena, i'm on my way to you.. and your plan, I want in."

New York……

Ellie laid in the hospital bed, still unconscious. The nurses and doctors had left the room, leaving only Nick and her. After answering numerous questions by hospital staff and the cops, he was finally given permission to see her. When Ellie told him she was leaving the party, he was so caught up in the fact she put him in the friendzone, then worry about her safety. After a moment to compose himself, he mentally reprimanded himself for allowing a beautiful girl like herself to walk home alone, and so he set out to trail behind her. He only found her as she darted into a dead end alley, a figure following behind her. By the time he had reached her, she laid barely conscious as he grabbed the assailant off of her, and beat him until he passed out. He called 911 reporting the incident, and Ellie and the assailant were taken to the hospital.

He was able to get into her phone and give the hospital her dads number. His memory reaching back to the image on her wallpaper, the boy with the leather jacket, dark hair and eyes, his arm wrapped around her waist. He knew he must have been something special to her, the fact made him a little jealous. He stood next to her bed "Ellie, I need you to wake up. I need you to be ok." He spoke as he noticed her hand started to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, an audible gasp escaped her as she began to panic. "Ellie. Ellie, hey its ok you're ok." She looked over to Nick, relief and confusion on her face. "Nick? Where. Where am I? She whispered. "You're at the hospital, do you remember what happened?" She nodded her head, lifting her arm that was free from wires and iv lines to the back of her head.

"The brotherhood." She whispered. Nick snapped his head to look at her "what did you say?" A nurse walked in "oh miss wheeler, glad you're awake. Im Nadia, I'll be the nurse taking care of you." She walked over assessing her. "Well everything looks good, however they do want to keep you overnight for observation. And there is a couple police officers who would like to speak to you." Ellie nodded as the nurse left the room, a minute later tow officers walked in.

"Hello miss Wheer, im officer grubbs. This is officer Davis" he motioned to the man standing next to him. "we would like to ask you a few questions about what happened."

Ellie began to tell them how she had left a party to walk home by herself, when she was followed and cornered in an alley and then attacked by the man. "I see, and do you know the person who attacked you, had you ever seen him before?" Ellie shook her head "No. He said that Jason Shaw sent him to get rid of me. I have never seen him before tonight."

Officer Davis approached her "Had you been drinking at this party?" Ellie looked at the officer shocked. "I had one cup of punch, hours before I left the party."

"So you're saying your judgment could be clouded by Alcohol consumption. " Davis smirked slightly.

"No. I'm saying that man followed me into an alley with every intention to kill me." Ellie bagam to tear up, frustrated by the turn of events.

"Kill is such a strong word. Were there any witnesses? The way we're told is you two have a history and your jealous boyfriend here stepped in while he was trying to save you."

"Davis!" Officer Grubbs warned.

"No. That's not what happened at all. I don't know him." Ellie sobbed.

Nick stood up from his chair "Hey, that asshole was attacking my friend. He's the one you should be grilling, not Ellie."

Davis laughed out "ok casanova, calm yourself."

"I'm sorry miss wheeler if this had upset you. I have your statement, he will see a closed circuit judge." Grubbs spoke with a soothing voice.

"What. What will happen to him?" Davis gave her a wicked smirk, Grubbs more sympathetic.

"He will be charged with assault, however he already has someone trying to post bail."

"B- bail? No. No no no, He's working for the brotherhood. Jason Shaw sent him to kill me. Check the FBIs wanted list, you cant let him go." Ellie sobbed out.

Davis gave her a smirk and walked out the door, in that moment she knew he was in their pocket. Grubbs walked up placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Im sorry Ellie, the best advice I can give you is to file a no contact order against him. I wish there was more we could hold him on." He gave her a sad smile and walked out the door.

Ellie began to panic, Jason wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted, revenge on her for taking him down. "My dad. I need to call my dad." She tried to get out of bed. "Hey, hey calm down Ellie. The hospital called your dad, he's on his way here." Nick assured her as he wrapped his arms around her small shaking frame. "Ellie, it's going to be ok. It's all going to be ok." Nick assured her in a soothing voice, calming her down. Something about the way he spoke was so familiar and she realized it was the same reassuring, soft tone Colt took with her it made her heart ache.

They sat there like that for a while, until the nurse came in telling them they were moving Ellie to a bed in the main hospital and Nick had to leave. That night Ellie struggled to find a good night's sleep, she tossed and turned until exhaustion took over.

Jason looked at her, a maniacal smile that bared his teeth, chilling her to the bone. "I told you Ellie, Do as I say and nobody gets hurt. It's a shame you didn't listen." Colts limp body sat hunched over in the chair, clinging between life and death. She tried to scream but her voice failed her, instead she sobbed out a pleading cry as he sauntered over to Colt. "Please. Please no." She managed to get out. "Such a sweet, innocent little thing still. To bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. Say bye bye to lover boy." Jason lifted his hand pulling the trigger.

"Colt….." she Jerked up in bed, screaming as a constant flow of tears streamed her face. She looked around the room, still in the hospital, alone. No Jason, no Colt, just her completely and utterly alone. The events of the past day wearing her down, He was supposed to keep her safe, he told her going to Langston would keep her safe and it didn't. He failed to keep her safe, and he failed to do what he promised he would, Love her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rapp at the door. A petite brunette nurse peeked her head in. "Ellie, Its early and we usually don't allow visitors at this hour, but someone wants to see you." Her eyes landed on her dad, he quickly crossed the room throwing his arms around her. "Oh Ellie. Oh thank god you're ok." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Im ok. She flinched, her body sore from the attack. "If something happened to you Ellie, I don't. I don't know what I would do."

"Im alive." Her tone with a hint of harshness to it. She was angry at Colt for his failed promises, it wasn't until her father came that she realized she was angry at him too.

"What's wrong Ellie? You seem a little angry." Her dad pulled back, sensing her tone. She sat there, silent for a moment he expression unreadable. "Why didn't you tell me Jason wasn't in jail?"

Her dad, caught off guard by her question doubled back. "Ellie…"

"Dad! Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded. She was angry, much more than she thought.

"I. Was just trying to protect you." His voice soft, maybe a hint of shame in it.

"Right, because I'm this delicate little flower that everyone thinks cant handle the tough stuff." She scoffed.

"I wanted you to focus on school. The farther you were from this, the safer. " her father reached for her hand, she pulled it back quickly. "Well, look how well that worked out." She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty tired dad. I think im going to get some rest. You should go get some sleep too. I'll see you later." Her dad looked at her with a sadness that screamed heartbreak but he nodded anyway. "Ok. Get some sleep, I love you Ellie." He leaned over giving her a soft kiss. "Love you too, dad."

Once the door closed she tossed herself on the bed. Jason's words from her dream running through her head. Too bad that delicate skin is going to be your undoing. She was soft, everyone seen her as a softie who needed saving, who couldn't get the job done. She was weak, meaningless and useless and that had to change. As she laid there she felt the darkness creep over, no longer would she be weak, useless, the girl who always needed saving. She wouldn't allow Jason to pull her puppet strings anymore. he was going down once and for all, and she was going to be the one to do it. No matter what it took.

Permatag

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101 @hazah @desiree-0816

ROD

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#chikara rod fan fic #choices ride or die #choices ride or die: a bad boy romance #leelee10898 fan fic #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #rod colt #ellie wheeler #ximena rod #lemons

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fallenbulbs-blog · 5 years

Text

ghostly || hoseok ghost!au

summary: you live next door to a rather rundown and troubled house. nobody’s lived there for years; you think.

word count: 3035

‘dear yeonjun,

how’s summer camp? i bet it’s much better than being stuck here, but my stupid allergies kept me back. ugh, i miss you. i’ll be sure to let you know if anything exciting happens here, though i doubt anything will.’

BANG

you paused, what was that? after waiting a few minutes, no other noise came after.

‘all i can do is play piano and write to you. tell me who wins the tug of war competition, because i doubt you will! just kidding. come back soon, it’s quiet without you.’

you finished your letter to yeonjun, a content sigh escaping you as the printer immediately began to spit out the product.

you were about to put your letter into an envelope, when you heard another crash, and a large rock came flying through your front window. immediately getting up, you grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

“hello? 911 i think somebody’s trying to break into my house-!” you yelled into the phone.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“didn’t you hear me? somebody is trying to get into my house-!”

“hello? is anybody on the line-?”

“yes, i’m right here-! can you hear me? hello-? hello? the phone isn’t working-!”

dial tone.

“they hung up? ugh!”

you headed to the front door and peaked outside; nobody was there. running outside, you heard a voice call your name. screaming, you started to sprint down the street. letting out another scream, you tripped on the street, only to look up and see a black figure towering over you. another scream ripped through your throat, and you curled up on the ground, hoping it was just a dream.

“where i come from, we usually just say hello.”

a tall boy emerged from the shadows, a bright smile playing on his face.

“there’s somebody trying to break into my house-!” you responded, getting up. “they even knew my name! it was creepy-!”

“creepy weird-? or creepy scary?”

“why do you care- can i go to your house and call somebody? my phone doesn’t work-!”

“i like scary things!” the stranger responded, ignoring your pleas. “come on, let’s go look!”

“what-? no!” before you could stop him, he was already heading to the back of your house, once again lost in the dark.

“help, help! oh please help!” you heard him cry out, and you honestly felt like crying.

“hello? . . oh my-” you got up and headed through the bushes, feeling your legs shake a little.

from behind you in the dark, somebody grabbed onto your shoulders, causing you to scream yet again. “haha, got ya! there was nobody there.”

“stop messing around! who through that rock then-? who knew my name-?”

he paused, looking up to see a kite in your tree. “the shadow was just a kite, maybe we should call the police and charge the kite with trespassing.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, confused.

“i live here now. shit, i gotta go-” he noticed the front door of his house opening, and before you could say a word and turn from staring at the kite, he was already gone, the door shut behind him.

weird.

‘dear yeonjun,

so finally something happened. yesterday, i met this really weird boy, and i think he’s a ghost. i mean, he said he moved into the old house next door, y’know, the one that burned down, but it still looks empty. he’s cute. kinda weird. something is off about him. . . anyway, i still miss you. how long is camp anyway? maybe you can meet him when you come back. i don’t even know his name though.’

“mailman!”

shit, you were too late to deliver it! running outside, you saw your local mailman already speeding off. “come back!” you whined, but the engine of his large white mail truck covered up your pleas.

looking ahead, two boys were biking in front, and another was rushing after them. he looked new, but you knew everybody that moved into this neighbourhood; when did he get here? you noticed that he was falling behind, the two other boys were way farther ahead.

“look out!” you screamed, and he looked up to see the mailtruck speeding right into his intended path. with a large ‘skrrt’ he managed to crash into a pile of trashcans, thankfully not in front of the truck. you rushed over, helping him out of the trash.

“are you alright?” you questioned, a frown covering your features as he stood up, much taller than you.

“yeah, i just smell like shit now.” he answered gruffly, shaking his own hair.

“c’mon loser, why’d you just crash like that?” one of the two boys called from farther down the street.

“what friends you have . . .” you muttered. “you almost died just now!”

“i just moved in, i gotta show the kids i’m not chicken.” the stranger huffed, a crooked grin crossing his features.

“you didn’t just move in, i know everybody in this tiny neighbourhood!” you exclaimed, looking around.

“maybe i did a sneaky on you- i just moved into 49 frances place.” he responded with a smile, pointing to the house next to yours.

“i would’ve noticed, really, that’s right next to mine!” you pointed to the house next to his, crossing your arms. “besides, yours burned down three years ago and hasn’t been up since, mr. . . jung.” you stared at the name plastered onto his mailbox, not knowing what else to call him.

to that, the stranger frowned, looking between the two houses before shrugging. “hoseok.”

you responded with your name, holding your hand out to shake his. your very quick introduction was interrupted by the two kids on their bikes.

“we’re gonna leave without you hoseok!” one of the boys called out. “c’mon taehyung, let’s just go without him now. . . who’s he talking to?”

“i’m coming i’m coming-! i gotta go, see you around.” hoseok breathed out, hopping back onto his bike and avoiding the trash. with a small sigh, you turned to head back to your house, only to see a rather large imprint of hoseok’s frame left in the dirt. “huh? . .”

‘dear yeonjun,

the kid is really weird. i definitely think he’s a ghost. i wanna go and check out his house. spy on him or something. but that’d be wrong, wouldn’t it? wouldn’t it? . .’

as you thought out your next letter and peaked around his house, you turned around to see none other than hoseok, and you gasped, a bit startled.

“what are you doing here?” he questioned, peeking around as if it were unsafe.

“oh- uh . . hi! i was just making sure you were okay. . from the bike crash.” bullshit.

“y-yeah, i’m okay.” he responded, scratching the back of his neck.

“so, can i check out your house? i bet it’s really fixed up!” you smiled brightly.

hoseok jumped a bit, startled. “no! i-i mean, not right now, it’s uh . . kind of a mess, still moving in. oh! but c’mon, i wanna show you something.”

he headed to his backyard, and you stared at his house a bit too long, before realizing you’d lost track of hoseok. frowning, you ran after him, only to see the backyard was empty.

looking around, you noticed the entrance to a basement. hearing your name being called from it, you only laughed. “very funny, come out hoseok, i know it’s a joke.”

it called your name again, and you huffed, trekking down the stairs into an unlit and filled up basement. “hoseok-! not funny. i know you’re in here.” you began to peek around, and didn’t notice your hands, which began to shake a bit with fear.

you looked around a corner and saw a large shadow, but nobody to produce it. screaming, you sprinted back toward the exit as best you could, a few boxes falling over in the process.

“you can’t run from me . .” the shadow cackled, following after you.

you reached the exit, only to notice . . it was locked?

“help-! help! hoseok, stop it!” you cried out, banging against the exit doors.

the shadow only laughed in response to your pleas, the laughter coming closer. with one good slam against the door, it burst open, causing you to tumble outside. you stood up and turned around, yelling as you saw hoseok standing right in front of you.

“y-you’re not real-! you’re a ghost!” you screamed, sprinting off and out of his property.

“what-? what are you talking about? . .” he responded, but you were already gone.

“that didn’t just happen- that wasn’t real . . but- my imagination isn’t that strong. . that was real- hoseok is a ghost!” you frowned. “i need to do some research.”

‘house fire on frances street. despite efforts from firefighters, nobody survived.’

so he really was a ghost. the house fire took his family! ‘i have gotta check this out.’ you thought to yourself, heading over nextdoor.

“what’s with this guy? what’s taking so long? it’s like he always disappears. . . c’mon jimin, let’s get outta here.” the two biked past you like you were just air, not even saying a word as they left.

looking up, a strong wind bellowed, and the door creaked open in front of you.

“hello?” you called out, stepping into the house. no response, only the front door slamming shut behind you, causing you to gasp. who did that?

you spotted somebody cooking in the kitchen, and you called out to them.

“hello-? you must be hoseok’s mom . . is he home?” she didn’t hear you? that or she’s really good at ignoring people . .

“wait, you’re not listening to me because you’re not really here! you’re a ghost too!”

“what are you doing here?! again?” hoseok stepped in from the side, crossing his arms as he leaned on the counter.

“i know your little secret, your mom can’t even hear me because she’s a ghost too!”

“or she’s deaf.” what? “are you deaf too? she can’t hear you, or anybody, nutjob.”

“oh my god- i . . i’m so sorry, i gotta go.” you felt your lower lip tremble as you ran out of the house, hugging yourself as you did.

“wait, stop!”

hoseok’s mom turned around, staring at the empty space hoseok spoke to.

“nothing mom, just the wind. . .” he signed as he spoke before running after you.

you were about to slam the door shut behind you before a large sneaker stopped the door from closing. huffing out, you opened the door to see hoseok.

“sorry-” you both said simultaneously, causing a fit of laughter to fill the room.

“you first--” you both said again.

“you first.” you finally said, a smile covering your face.

“i-i’m sorry for yelling at you and not wanting you in the house . . i should’ve told you about my mom, and why i don’t let people in. i took you to the basement . . cause i just- i was embarrassed, i guess? . .” he sighed.

“it’s okay, i think it’s cool that you know sign language and stuff . .”

“maybe i could teach you!”

“i’d like that. .” you nodded happily.

“alright . . . your turn.”

“i just wanted to say i’m sorry for thinking you were a ghost, but i found this story off the internet, about our street . . about the housefire . . i just thought you were dead.” you handed him the story you printed out, huffing a bit.

“oh- that’s okay. i’ve never been called a ghost before. . .” hoseok laughed, and you couldn’t help but admire the smile that came onto his face.

“it won’t happen again, i promise-! it’s been a weird summer- i’ll be a normal person from now on, i swear.”

“really? swear?”

“yes.” you laughed, scrunching up your nose a bit.

hoseok grinned in response, only to frown upon reading the story. “w-wait . . the story mentions your address . . you said you live next door, right? that means . . your house was the one that burned down three years ago.”

“no, look out the window, my house is right there! . .” you trailed off, looking outside to see your house in shambles, vines covering the entire building. you ran outside and headed to the house, but hoseok stood in your way to stop you.

“it’s not safe-! don’t g-” he stopped, noticing you had walked right through him.

“you’re right . . there is a ghost around here- and it’s you!” he yelled, stepping away from you timidly.

“i-i don’t know what’s going on around here, but i know i live in that house!” you cried out, even stomping on the ground in frustration. you ran up the front steps, turning around to face hoseok.

“hoseok, are you coming?” you frowned, but he stepped away once again before sprinting off, leaving you alone at your burned down house. letting out an upset sigh, you stepped inside, slamming the door closed behind you.

the same shadow you’d seen for days now stood in the hallway, the same irritating laughter filling the house. “now he knows, and so do you.”

“how’d this happen? my house was normal just hours ago-!”

“you’ve been living your days on repeat for three years. you never truly noticed your world had changed, little one.”

you felt like crying, tears stinging your eyes as you stood there, truly feeling alone.

“you and i can haunt this world forever, all you have to do is let go.”

“how come he’s the only one that can see me? where is my family-?”

silence filled the room before the shadow responded. “all you have to do is save hoseok, tonight. those two friends of his, jimin and taehyung, they’re going to prank him tonight; they pranked you three years ago as well, with the same house fire. they’re going to do that to hoseok as well. save him at midnight tonight. if you don’t, you two will haunt this neighbourhood together, forever.”

you gasped; those two idiots killed you? this was so unfair. glancing at the clock, you noticed it was already eleven o’clock. but . . you couldn’t talk to him now, and nobody else could see you. you reached out for the fire extinguisher, but you went right through it as well.

“your energy is slowly fading, as the hour strikes closer. i can no longer help you, for i disappear at midnight as well. be successful, for not only hoseok counts on you. you and i depend on it as well.”

“w-wait! what’s your name-?”

“namjoon. i tried to save you in this house, which is why i can no longer leave it. . good luck, young ghost.”

before you could ask anymore questions, he was already gone, leaving your house empty once again.

you stood outside hoseok’s house, pacing back and forth in thought. glancing at your watch, you gasped; only ten minutes until midnight. this was awful. you spotted taehyung and jimin biking down the street, with a book bag filled with fireworks.

“tae- we shouldn’t do this . . remember what happened last time . . with- y’know.” he motioned to the house; your house, and frowned.

“shut it jimin- it was so much fun last time, you’re just a pussy. and we never got caught because i’m a genius.”

“oh god. .” you heard jimin murmur, toying with his large sweatshirt before getting off of his bike.

“c’mon, we’re gonna scare the living shit out of that hoseok kid. if he survives, he can be one in our crew; the coolest kids in town.” taehyung laughed, causing your blood to boil; you stomped over to the two, reaching for the bag, but your hand passed right through it. you were even starting to become transparent.

“stop-! please!” you cried out, but they didn’t even notice.

“let’s go . .” jimin sighed, the duo heading to the backyard. letting out a gasp, you ran up to the front door, going to knock, but just decided to walk through it.

“woah . . cool- shit, where’s hoseok?” you whispered, heading to the kitchen.

‘out for the night, gone bowling! xoxo, mom’

he’s home alone? even worse! you ran down the hallway and to his room, taking all your energy to focus and knock on the door.

“hoseok-? please come out, you’re in serious danger here.”

“yeah, from you, get out of my hou-” he was cut off, a loud bang filling his room, only slightly muffled by the door, and soon multiple others filled the room.

“hoseok!” you screamed, and when you passed through his bedroom door, he was coughing on the floor, before passing out from smoke.

“oh shit, tae we started another fucking fire!” jimin yelled from outside, and you looked up to see the pair leaning over the window.

“let’s get the fuck outta here-” taehyung yelled back, throwing one last firework before the two booked it.

you would’ve been terrified for your life, but nothing could hurt you now.

“hoseok- wake up- please-!” you tried to lift him up, but you were too much of a ghost to touch him. you looked up and saw namjoon through the smoke, squinting a bit.

“namjoon-! do something!” you pleaded, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i cannot, for i would be changing fate.” he sighed, flickering a bit.

“fuck- wait-!” you jumped up, running to the front room. you spotted the piano and began to play, already noticing people outside who had seen the fire through the window.

“you guys hear that?” “oh my god, there’s still somebody inside!” you heard people murmur, and you continued to focus on playing.

“i’m going inside-” one voice spoke up, before you heard the door slam open and somebody run down the hall. it only took a few moments before the stranger hauled hoseok’s limp body outside, his face stained with ash and smoke.

you stopped playing and ran outside, spotting hoseok begin to regain consciousness.

“h-hoseok! you’re okay!” you smiled, noticing you yourself began to flicker.

“i can’t see you, where are you?” he whispered, and you looked down to see yourself begin to quickly fade away.

“i’m right here hoseok, i always will be.” you smiled, using the last of your energy to kiss his cheek, before you were completely gone, finally at peace.

“who are you talking to?” his mom signed, a bit worried.

hoseok smiled, staring at where you just were. “just a friend mom, just a friend.”

##. A/N it’s been awhile since i’ve written! i hope you enjoyed it :)

#ghost au #hoseok #hoseok fic #taehyung #bts #jimin #namjoon #this took way too long

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regrettablewritings · 6 years

Text

Genre Blindness, aka The Brocky Horror Picture Show (Slight Eddie Brock x Reader)

A/N: Well, this is all I’m contributing to Halloween. Have at a “scary”(ly-written) fic. Have at it, kiddies. Also, kudos to K for making a punny name for this even though she knows it and everything about it (including myself) is trash!

Everyone likes to imagine themselves as the hero of their own story, a figure in the movie that was their life. The problem for you was that at this point, you had no idea to which genre your own life belonged. The easy route would’ve been to claim it was an indie, but where was the fun in that? But considering how you’d decided to start life a new in San Francisco, it was leaning somewhere along the inspirational biopic spectrum. Your apartment sure as hell supported that theory: Small, your own personal and lease-friendly touches attempting to cover up its slipshod glory, located in a part of town that, ahem, didn’t have a Whole Foods so to speak.

Clearly, you told yourself often, I am in the rough beginnings phase. You weren’t entirely sure how much of this you actually believed, but it was better to believe that something amazing was waiting just around the corner than to completely digest your life’s current situation.

The irony here being that your life, for just a moment, was about to look less like an inspirational biopic and more like a movie about being careful or at least more specific about what one wishes for.

When you hoped for something big to be around the corner, you’d meant like winning the lottery or acquiring your dream job or catching the eye of a dazzling celebrity. Or at least find the perfect pair of jeans that were both comfy and made your ass look great. What you hadn’t hoped for (or even really been in the same realm of even considering) was that something big would literally drop right by your apartment window – coincidentally in a back corner of your building.

You hadn’t noticed that anything had fallen passed your window. Not at first. You were far too busy blowing your store-bought microwavable cupcake cool, after all. But what you couldn’t ignore were the sounds that soon followed the thing’s fast descent: The loud thud of something hitting the pavement below; the bang of disturbed trashcans; the cacophony of garbage being crushed or toppled over. To be honest, you were so used to that sort of racket coming from that alleyway (never mind that it still caused you to jolt up with a vibrant, “Whatthefuck?!”) that you would’ve been more than happy to just leave it be and carry on with your lackluster night. After all, if you stopped yourself every time you heard crackheads getting into screaming matches or cats hissing at one another or party girls puking into that alley, you’d never have enough life left over to enjoy what little you had.

You glanced at the clock: a quarter to three in the morning. Most nearby clubs were probably beginning to close up shop at around this time, it was probably just somebody drunk on overpriced drinks stumbling about.

However, it was the groan that caused you to reconsider. Of all the disputes you’d overheard coming from the backway below, you’d never heard such a miserable sound of pain come rippling up the walls the way this particular one did. Normally you would’ve kept the window shut but with your busted A/C unit, you had to regrettably resort to using the rank but free air of the outside. It was bad enough you could smell suspicious things; it was no intention of yours to also hear suspicious things. But . . . Then again, maybe you didn’t hear it. Suppose you imagined it?

As if on cue, you heard a small avalanche of glass bottles and hefty garbage bags collapse. Its end was accompanied by a small whimper. It wasn’t as loud as the groan you thought maybe hadn’t happened, but it was definitely real. And still definitely human. Crap.

Against the best of your nerves, the guilt of possibly letting a genuinely injured person suffer any more than what was necessary overruled you. You crept towards your window, nudging the sill open just enough for you to humor poking your head out of it.

“Hello?” you called down in a loud whisper. You squinted at the shadows. Aside from the familiar forms of garbage cans and the dumpster and the litter you could just imagine was already there, nothing. That is, until one of those garbage bags appeared to move. Your breath stilled in your throat, eyes widening for a brief moment before narrowing once more with double intensity. The lack of proper lighting made it difficult to officially determine it, but there was little doubt about it: There was a person down there.

“Hellooo? Is anybody down there?” you called out a bit louder. Nothing. Your heart began to thud with worry. You inhaled (both with worry and with the intention of shouting) before releasing a far louder, “HELL –”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” bellowed some bastard elsewhere. The sudden yelling caused you to tense up and button up. Curiously (and concerningly), still no response from below. There were two possibilities to this: Either this person, like you, was not from the area and therefore lacked the devil-may-care attitude required for snapping back at the aggressor; or they had just proved your growing dread that they might’ve been unconscious.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. You wobbled from foot to foot, eyes flickering about as your thoughts rushed. What should you do? Should you call 911? That would be the most sensible thing, honestly.

But . . . given that there wasn’t a Starbucks for an approximate twenty blocks from here – any help you called for likely wasn’t going to come immediately. Maybe you should just hope that they recover quickly and go about your business? You hated to admit to it, but the temptation was there.

After all, you shakily tried to reason, I’ve never really rushed in with all the other things that happened in that alley. This was true. But then again, the others never really had the double whammy of a person being in so much pain that they possibly blacked out. Or were on the brink of death. The shudder that thought caused forced you to shake your head. You were overthinking this. You had to have been; nobody else was making a fuss about this, were they? Probably because they’d already called the cops –

Oh, wait, you remembered bitterly, no Starbucks or Whole Foods or some shit. Plus, the screaming you’d received for calling out your own window did little to convince you of others’ sense of empathy. An expression of worry twisted your features as you forced yourself to go to the kitchen and retrieve a fork for your awaiting snack. Maybe if you took the actual steps to carry on with your previously planned night, you’d calm down some and things would take care themselves?

But could the person that you swore was in the alleyway do the same you wondered.

Clearly the cynicism of this corner of San Fran had not strangled you enough. You wished that it had.

You were currently seeing your life as veering more towards the horror genre. You concluded this with immense dread based on the following: You were creeping outside in the dark to investigate a strange noise on your own; you wanted to believe that you were perhaps defying it to some extent by arming yourself but alas: A skillet did not carry the same amount of threat as, say, a good cutting knife did. Which you didn’t have anyway. So yeah: You were being that bitch™.

You slowly waved your phone’s flashlight about the ground. So far, all you had been picking up were the usual suspects of grime and garbage and for that you were somewhat grateful. Maybe, if you hoped hard enough, the person would have retroactively recovered and buggered off before you’d gotten down. That would sure alleviate a whole lot of pressure weighing down on your nerves. But as the light encased the unmistakable figure of a shoe – still attached to a leg, no less – you knew no amount of hoping was going to relieve you. And as you traveled the light further along the body, taking in its current state, you were losing hope by the gallon.

You gasped shrilly as your eyes began to compute exactly what was wrong with the man: He was dead. He had to have been. From what little skin you could see (he was dressed in a rather blood-stained hoodie and even more unfortunate jeans), most of him appeared to be battered purple and blue. Some of his fingers had definitely been broken as evidenced by the unnatural angles they bended at. But, most horrifying of all, was the bone sticking out of him: Shins were not supposed to fucking do that. In fact, even the near absolute coverage of his clothing couldn’t hide from you just how mangled his body appeared to be in some places.

“Oh, God,” you gagged, jerking your head away from the scene. This was worse than a horror movie; this was real life. This shit was getting too out of hand, you’d finally decided. It didn’t matter if it would take them a while to get out here: You were calling the police right fucking now. This was a mob hit. This was a mob hit, and you fucking contaminated the crime scene with your mere presence. It was best to just make the call, give as much information as you could, and hole yourself up in your apartment until the memory of this faded from your mind – which would probably be never at this point.

You tried to make quick work of getting to the dialer of your phone (a difficult thing to do with sweaty, shaking fingers) but it was in the process of that that you heard something unlike the distant sirens and dogs barking of the late night hour: A sort of . . . whistling? No, no, a hissing. You forced yourself to glance back at the body. There was your answer: A nostril, struggling to inhale in spite of the nose’s battered state.

A wave of relief washed through you as you concluded that the figure before you, in spite of the odds, was alive. That made the situation somewhat better, but frankly only by the smallest of increments. You hovered the flashlight of your phone over the stranger’s face. It was frankly not too much better than the rest of his body with blood streaking across the flesh and purple beginning to set into it. But in spite of the cuts and bruises marring his face, he looked vaguely familiar to you. You weren’t entirely sure if those lips of his were naturally poofy or if they had just been smacked around a bit, but you could’ve sworn you’d seen lips like them somewhere on a particular.

You grimaced; that was enough of that. Time to make that call and leg it. With fingers still trembling, you returned your focus back to turning your phone screen back on.

Crack.

You froze, your breath stilling. Normally, you would have been very willing to link another noise in the alleyway with the trash that adorned it. However, this was a very specific sound. In fact, you could’ve sworn it sounded like . . . bone?

You weren’t sure of the demon that compelled you to do so, but you dared to glance at the body once more. Your gut dropped and your heart beat a painfully cold palpitation.

Hadn’t his left shoulder appeared more broken than that?

Sn-ap. This time, you saw it: The shoulder, in an almost jerking but completely unnatural movement, snapped into a more normal-looking position. In fact, if you weren’t so ensorcelled for all the wrong reasons, you might have considered it good as new.

CRACK. The loudness of the noise caused you to jump, your eyes flickering to where you believed the source of it to be. You watched in horror as the bone protruding from the man’s leg began to inch inward, crick after crack until it finally placed itself back into its rightful home. In fact, it took you a moment to realize that as it was rehousing itself, the rest of the broken limbs and features were correcting themselves as well. You barely registered the cacophony of bones snapping and flesh squealching, either because your heart was drumming a fearful beat inside your head or because your brain just forbade it to spare you. Either way, after the longest minute of your life, the body that lay before you wasn’t quite the same one you’d just found.

It was back to what you assumed was normal for it: A regular guy with no broken limbs or busted lips. Of course, there was still some blood here and there but that was the last thing you were concerned about. Though frankly, with the blizzard of thoughts whipping about your head, it was hard to decide what you should be concerned about: The body, the fact that it was just busted beyond belief mere seconds ago, the fact that it magically (albeit grotesquely) fixed itself, if you should just call the goddamn police and get the hell of out here.

Then his eyes snapped open. With that, your thoughts collected themselves in a single file line of concerns, that eye-opening thing being at the very front of it.

A loud, wet gasp flew from his lips, creating a gurgling noise in the cramped space of the alley. He jolted his body upright so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t broken his neck in the process. The sudden movement, the sudden noise – it was all too much.

The corridor rang with a glorious pang, followed by an unceremonious plop of the man’s body returning back to the dirty concrete. He was out cold once again, though it was probably for the better: Had he been awake, he definitely would’ve been complaining about his re-broken nose.

You shuddered; the fact that “re-broken” was the proper word definitely wasn’t doing anything for your mental state. You were in the middle of debating whether or not this was even still a matter for the police (twenty Starbucksless blocks for one, the fact that you might be dealing with a demonic possession for another), when you heard it again: That sickening crack of bone, though you knew without even looking that it was his nose. Your eyes screwed themselves shut, your body flinching along with every snip and snap of the cartilage repairing itself. Even when it all went quiet, you didn’t look. Frankly, you were at a loss of what to even do at this point; the entire scenario was way more than what you’d bargained for, and there was no public protocol. At least with finding a busted body, there was some inkling of what to do. But this? You weren’t even sure what you were dealing with, much less with how to deal with it!

“Impressive.”

For the umpteenth time in the last half hour, you jolted. The fear that spiked through you had been more than enough to pop your eyes back open against your personal wishes. Normally, hearing another person’s voice in such a bizarre situation could’ve been a godsend. But this voice . . . It wasn’t human. It was deep, but also unnerving. It was carried in a rattling, almost metallic way that made its threatening cadence all the more evident. It was your fear instinct that forced you to turn towards it and source it. But even with a face to match the voice to, you still weren’t certain as to what you were seeing.

The first thing that came to mind was goop. The second was oil or ink. But the third was, “HOLY SHIT TEETH TEETH FUCKING NEEDLE TEETH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!?” And as tempted as you were to say any of that, you found yourself unable to so much as emit a whimper of horror. As you stared into the large, milky eyes of the many-toothed, oily goop thing that was protruding from the man’s arm, you found yourself rightfully out of words. If this evening didn’t kill you, you had a feeling that whatever the hell this thing was would. And its creepy grin did nothing to convince you otherwise.

“That’s some swing you’ve got,” it complimented. You did not appreciate it. “But as outstanding as it is . . .” It narrowed its eyes and widened its grin menacingly, “I would greatly appreciate it if you did not use it to damage my property. It was my general understanding that vandalism is a bit of a big deal for your humans. Consider this my warning.”

Okay, yeah, no the fear was too much. You raised the skillet at an angle. The thing’s eyes widened.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HIT ME WITH THAT – You know what? Go ahead: I dare you. Hit me with that thing again and I will eat you.” It capitalized on that threated by giving its rows of jagged teeth a lick. Normally you might’ve wondered if such an action would be painful given the nature of its mouth, but the foulness of its tongue made you immediately discard that query. Besides, as curious as you were, you didn’t want to know what sort of deity this thing was swearing to.

You lowered the pan albeit to a shield-like position, though a part of you recognized the idiocy of it. Nightmarish ooze or no, a shield does not a kitchen skillet make. Nevertheless, the goop demon seemed pleased enough.

“Good,” it hissed. “I will admit that while I am not enthused that such a small human managed to take us down using only cooking ware, it is at least more amusing than accepting that we got our ass handed to us by a guy with a stun gun and a dog whistle.”

There were many things about that sentence to unpack but specifically, there was one that was just enough to suspend your disbelief.

“‘U-us?’” you whispered. The creature nodded in one slow, oozing gesture.

“Yes,” it confirmed. “He and I.” You regarded the man from which the glob was sourcing.

“We are . . . one, I suppose you could say,” the creature explained. Your eyes drifted back upward to meet with the whites of its own. Your breath shuttered about your throat. You dared to continue.

“Who . . . Who are you?”

You never thought the thing’s smile could grow any further. But as its oily face drew back to reveal even more pointed teeth, you were proven wrong. You didn’t feel as nervous, though. It was almost as if you were beginning to forget how to be in all your curiosity.

“Us?” it smiled, eyes narrowing once more with delight.

“We . . .” It raised up with pride, “are Venom.”

Venom. So the thing had a name. At least that question was answered. Unfortunately, the satisfaction of that didn’t appear in your features so much as they remained as neutral as they could for the moment. From the look of bemusement beginning to leak into Venom’s oily countenance, you gathered that this wasn’t the effect he had been looking for from you.

“It’s a lot more effective when we speak in unison,” Venom glowered, nodding his “head” toward his unconscious partner. You sights once again flickered to the poor bastard and you winced.

“Oooohhh,” you groaned quietly. “S-sorry?” You almost wanted to smack yourself with the frying pan for that. Why the hell were you apologizing? To validate this thing’s stolen thunder? Hell no!

“Apology not accepted,” Venom muttered. You could practically hear the pout in his tone, a fact which almost disturbed you. It was then that you heard a low groan emit from the man. At this, Venom turned himself entirely towards his human.

“Seems he’s coming around. Finally.” Venom swiveled back to you. “Do not hit us again. I can still eat you, even when he’s awake.” With that threat, he began to slink back into the body. For a moment, it was like ink was seeping into the human’s sweatshirt. But it disappeared just as quickly, signifying that Venom had, like the bones before him, returned back from whence he came. It was as if thick ink had splattered across the man’s clothing before disappearing all together.

Ordinarily you would have transfixed on that sort of thing but after everything else that had come before it (and in a span of about ten minutes at most), it was practically matter-of-fact by comparison. Therefore, you weren’t startled this time when the man woke up once more, sharply inhaling as though the air were finally being allowed back into his lungs. His eyes bulged against greying lids, flickering everywhere they could before landing on you. And then the skillet you were still holding. You could practically see the moment he remembered what you’d done.

It hurt Eddie’s lungs to breathe; apparently V hadn’t gotten around to fixing minor internal discomfort. Still, that didn’t stop him from taking a sharp intake of air as he felt himself being shot back into the realm of consciousness. But as a stinging sensation resonated within him, he regretted it. The only thing he could do in that moment of shock was wait it out; he did his usual method of taking in his surroundings, trying to recollect what all had happened when –

Aw, fuck, he cursed inside. There was another person present. He was beginning to wonder how much you had seen when his eyes happened to register that you were holding something: A skillet. Immediately, the memories of moments before began to flood back into the forefront of his mind. He woke up, you jolted, bang, he was back in the blackness.

It was therefore understandable for him to assume the worst and act on instinct – by scrambling upright and trying (and failing) to move away from you. Even with healed limbs, his body was sore but it didn’t stop him from raising an arm in defense.

“Whoawhoawhoa –” he slurred, blanking out your objections against his assumptions.

“Calm down,” he suddenly heard resonating inside his skull. “She won’t try anything. I made sure of that.”

What, what? It was enough to make Eddie pause. The hell did that mean!?

Brows furrowed, he lowered his arm. “Did . . . Are you okay?” he asked

Your face wrinkled incredulously. “E-excuse me?!” you demanded. “Am I okay!? What the hell about you?!”

“Well, I just thought –”

“You show up in a goddamn alleyway, looking like a Halloween horror show prop, you fucking heal, get panged, you have a – a thing, and you ask me if I’m o-fucking-kay?!” you screeched. With every addition to your list you made, the man grimaced. Though at that last part, that seemed to change: Less cringing, more realization.

“Wait . . . You –”

“KEEP IT FUCKING DOWN OUT THERE, FUCK!!” The sudden roaring from seven stories up the apartment building silenced the both of you. It was punctuated by a window slamming shut. The two of you remained silent, the only noise left being the distant sounds of the city and your labored breaths. You sat there, staring at one another, both clearly wanting to speak but being uncertain of what exactly to say amongst the array of possibilities. But for Eddie, there was at least one that he desperately needed to know before anything else.

“So, you uh . . . You saw him?” he asked.

“She just said she did,” Venom stated bluntly.

“Yes,” you confirmed in a low mutter. Eddie nodded, casting his eyes to the side. To alleviate the growing awkwardness, he raised a hand to the back of his head and scratched at an itch that wasn’t even there.

“Ah,” he offered plainly. He pursed his lips. “So, uh . . . What exactly did he do . . . Y’know, to keep you from bashing my brains out again?”

“. . . He said he’d eat me.”

“Still might,” Eddie heard. In spite of this, he forced an unconvincing smile of assurance.

“No, he won’t. He’s just bluffing,” Eddie insisted.

“Yes, I could.”

“We have a deal going on where we only . . .” He searched for the right word. Considering all the crap he’d put you through, no matter how unintentional, there was just nothing soft enough to lighten the blow. “We only deal with bad people, let’s just put it that way.”

That honestly wasn’t the most reassuring thing, but you had no choice but to take it. Still, your morbid curiosity wasn’t about to let it rest.

“Is it a . . . a demon?” You weren’t expecting a sensible answer, much less an honest one. But you needed something to grasp on to. Something to confirm, once and for all, that this wasn’t a shared hallucination of some kind.

The brunet shook his head.

“Nah,” he stated. “More like a paras –” He paused. He said, “An alien.” The beat he’d created for himself gave you all the reason to doubt his claim. However, in the lighted projected from your phone, you could see those eyes of his. Through all the exhaustion they held, there was honesty present in them. They told you, pleaded with you to trust his words.

And you did.

And that was when it hit you: the sudden realization of where you knew that face from. You almost wanted to sock yourself in the face for not recognizing him before – after all, how many men had lips like those?

“Holy shit,” you said mindlessly. “You’re Eddie Brock, aren’t you?”

Eddie tensed. Should he lie? He could totally lie, right? He’d been working on his career-destroying bluntness over the last few months, surely he could at least bend the truth a little into a direction that didn’t convince you he was Eddie Brock, take-down investigative journalist.

“. . . Nnnnnnooooooo?” He slurred. Fuck. He began to wonder if he had enough money to bribe you into silence.

“We could always eat her,” Venom offered. Immediately, Eddie was broken out of one panicked thought process into another.

“No!” he hissed to himself. “We are not going to eat her!” (Your eyes widened as your grip on your nearly forgotten cooking ware tightened.)

“Fine!” Venom scowled. His voice then returned, though with a hint of suggestion. “Maybe we could . . . ‘eat’ her in that other way, then. The non-sustenance-gaining but still plenty satisfying way –”

“NO!” Eddie snapped. He could practically feel the symbiote within shrugging.

“It’s a good method of keeping silence in my opinion. Won’t know unless we try.”

“Please. Just shut the fuck up,” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth.

“I, I promise I won’t tell,” you stammered insistently. You raised the pan back up as a mock shield, both to pathetically attempt protection but also to hide bits of your worrying appearance. “It’s just . . . Well, you’re some guy my college roommate got me into; she used to stream your stuff all the time, I used to watch your crap for essays and – Shit, no, I don’t mean crap, I mean –”

“Nah, nah, some of that was crap. You ever see the one about the rats at Cawthon Pizza Kitchen?”

You grinned wearily. “Only every time I consider ordering pizza.”

A beat of silence followed. Well, on your end it was silent. For Eddie, he could hear his alien parasite snickering.

“Ask her if she saw the outtake where you thought a rat scurried across your foot and you screamed like a pussy!”

Okay, enough was enough. Without warning, Eddie began to shove himself up off the dirty ground. You followed suit.

“Okay, not to cut this short or anything – it’s been a blast, almost literally, but, uh . . .” He fruitlessly brushed off his clothes. He paused, as if cut short.

“No,” he said sternly. After another moment of him not speaking, he repeated himself. “I said ‘no.’” You began to worry your lip. Considering what had been said previously whenever Eddie did this, you had every reason to feel concern.

“You’re not . . . gonna eat me, are you?” you wondered. Immediately Eddie switched his attention back to you.

“Nonono,” he raised his hands in defense. “Not you, you have our word, it’s just –” He bit a corner of his full lip. “Okay, the long and the short is that we’re kind of ridiculously hungry right now, and the bastard’s saying you owe us.”

“Oh!” You pursed your lips. “That’s, um . . .”

The man waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Just point me in the direction of the nearest convenience store or whatever and we’ll be gone like the wind outta your hair.” He added a smile to the end of his sentence. You were happy to return it – at first. But the way he flinched as it spread caught your eye. You once again took notice of the small scratches and blemishes that still marked up his face, even after Venom’s apparent handy work. It was silly, but you couldn’t help the feelings they instilled in you. Sure, you hadn’t been the one to put them (well, most of them) there, but that didn’t negate the fact that you had smacked him hard enough to break a bone.

“No,” you found yourself interjecting. If you weren’t possessed by enough guilt to be steadfast on the matter, you would have appeared just as confused as Eddie did upon your interruption. You went on, “I mean, I don’t have much on me but, like . . . I got one of those cheap microwavable cupcakes. You can have it, if you want, I mean. I feel like I owe you for clocking you.”

“Oooohhh. Eddie, I like her,” purred Venom.

You didn’t hear that, of course, but Eddie sure did. And something inside him was a bit concerned that that was his cause for quirking a grin at you, rather than the thought of actually eating something.

Epilogue:

For whatever reason, the gravity of the situation didn’t entirely hit you at its full depth until long after the two of you trekked up the stairs to your abode. Nor did it occur when Eddie (or perhaps it was Venom, given the ferocity with which he ate) attacked the consolation cupcake. It actually hit you after Eddie’s departure (though not before him expressing his thanks and a lighthearted if awkward inclusion of “maybe seeing you around”).

You had just taken an alien-possessed Eddie Brock into your apartment and fed him a cupcake to make up for the fact that you’d broken his nose with the skillet you used to cook your eggs. It was the sort of strangeness only heard about in stories from the web or on the silver screen. Granted, most stories and movies would have chided at you for wandering outside at night and then bringing somebody you didn’t even know back to your place. The fact that he was also a host to a carnivorous, insatiable ink thing stood only to worsen the effect.

But as you finally lay down in the wee hours of the morning, there was nothing you could do about it. What was done was done. Things would never be quite the same after this night. The story had changed lanes, the script revised to reflect something less like the boring biopic you’d initially imagined, and deep down knew you were probably never going to get back so long as Eddie and Venom existed in your life. Though as you fell asleep, you deliriously decided it wasn’t something you minded.

In hindsight, you would see this as the rough beginnings phase of the odd couple story your life actually wound up being.

#i know i have other things to do but i was feeling this #it's not meant to be a good piece #i just wanna be silly sometimes you guise #*stares at my old works* what did writing good used to be like?#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock imagines #venom imagine #venom imagines #regrettablewritings #...how do i do the thing with the writing????#i forgot how to write guys holy shit i'm screwed #anyway happy hallerween

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just-a-dash-of-imagination-blog · 7 years

Text

I Will Always Save You: Part 1

Emmett x Reader

Warnings: Depression, Insomnia, Self-hatred, abusive relationships, loss of family members (parents and grandparents), eventually fluff and happiness in one of the next ones

The circles under your eyes continued to get darker, this was your third day without sleep. “Sweetie, I need you to get up. School starts tomorrow and you have to go.” Your mom told you, you looked at her and sighed.

“I don’t understand why you’re making me go to this new school, I am a senior who knows nobody.” You told her, getting out of bed and taking your daily hour long shower. This was going to be the worst, you’ve been the new girl several times before, but never a place this small. You and your mom were on the run from the man that fathered you, but that’s not important right now.Tomorrow you were going to this place called Forks High School, that is four times smaller than the last place you went.

“Mom, how is a smaller town safer. I’m going to be eighteen in less than a month, so I’ll be easier to find.” You told her, she looked up and smiled at you.

“Well, I know a few people here and it has been a while since we’ve been anywhere that we know someone. I thought it would be nice for a chance.” She said, but you just looked down holding back tears. Yea, she knew them, but you did not. You never got to know anyone because your father would ruin everything, he’d show up and we would run again, leaving you with no friends and only one family member, your phone only had two contacts: Mom and 911, that was it.

“Hey, there’s still plenty of light left to this day, do you want to get some new clothes?” Your mom asked you and you just shook your head no, “Okay sweetie, let me know when you need something.” That was your mom’s way of saying ‘I love you’, she never said the real thing. You finally got were in the bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes, the purple turning to black, your face was even sunken in a little. The longer you looked at yourself the sicker you felt, so you decided to quit and jump in the scolding hot shower. You slid down the wall and sat allowing the water to run over you, trying to wash yourself away, but that would never work.

After you got out you got ready for bed, it was actually pitch black outside instead of that dull grey, even though you didn’t mind the constant grey and rain. You told your mom a goodnight and she always gives you a tight hug before bed, always scared it might be her last. This night you actually fell asleep because the exhaustion took over you, but once your eyes closed you saw it all, here is where I explain why you and your mother are on the run. You were tiny and helpless, you’ve already been beaten to where you couldn’t even stand and blood slowly dripped down your face, you saw your mom standing there with a gun to her head and your father was the one holding it. You tried screaming, but you weren’t able to. Your mother somehow escaped and picked you up and ran out of the house to your grandparents’, but he came to their house and you heard the sound of the gun going off then your grandma screaming and fighting your father telling you and your mom to leave, then you heard the next shot, but you and your mom were driving off in your grandparents’ car.

You woke up screaming and crying, your mom rushes into your room, “Baby girl, what’s wrong, come here,” She said wrapping her arms around your weeping form, “It’s been a while since you’ve had that dream, happens every time we go some place new, doesn’t it?” She said with a small sympathetic smile on her face. She laid down on the bed with you and you guys talked until you both finally fell asleep.

“Come on, wake up! Time for school!” Your mom could be peppy when she wanted to be, she was always good at hiding her fear. You slowly got out of bed, then went to the bathroom to get ready, the circles weren’t as dark, but your eyes were puffy from the crying, and there was nothing you could do with your hair so you threw it up into a simple ponytail.

You didn’t have your own car so your mom drove you to school, she dropped you off in front of the office area, this school was tiny compared to your last one, at least you shouldn’t get lost this time. You walked inside and the woman already knew who you were, “Here’s your papers Ms. y/l/n. It even includes a map of the school, so you should be able to find every building, and if you need help finding something don’t hesitate to ask! Anybody will be willing to help you find your class.”

You found all of your classes before school started so you wouldn’t get lost, the classes before class went by quickly, you even managed to talk to a few people, but they were mainly nosy. Eventually it was lunch time, you got in there with no idea where to sit, so you sat alone, but a few people came to sit with you, excited about the new student. People kept trying to talk to you, but you mostly ignored them, you weren’t liking this whole small school thing. You happen to look up and catch a glimpse of some people sitting by themselves towards the corner.

“Who are they?” You accidentally asked out loud.

“That’s the Cullens and Hales. Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them. The pretty blondes are the Hales, Jasper and Rosalie Hale. Then all of the others are Cullens, the tiny weird girl is Alice, the emo looking guy is Edward, then the brute is Emmett. They’re all a little weird and they don’t talk to anybody.” Some girl answered you, then you heard one of the girls whisper, ‘she’d fit in perfectly over there, she’s kinda a freak.’ After that comment you got up and moved to an empty table, you didn’t feel like being around those people anymore.

The rest of the day seemed to drag, turns out one of the Cullens was in your class and he kept staring at you, you just figured you looked funny so you just looked down at your desk. Once school was over your mom was already waiting for you in the parking lot, you were on your way to the car, but ended up bumping into something big and falling on your butt.

You heard a deep laughter, “Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you here before.” He looked you up and down, “Hi, I’m Emmett Cullen.”

“Hi, I’m y/n. My mom’s waiting on me or I’d talk more, I’ve got to go.” You said to him, trying hard not to sound rude.

“Nice meeting you, y/n. I hope we can speak more tomorrow.” Emmett said to you then walked in the opposite direction.

Your mom did the basic asking how your day was, did you make any friends, how was your classes, and so on. The night passed by and you actually fell asleep with no dreams that night. When you woke up in the morning your eyes weren’t puffy and the dark circles were a little lighter.

A few weeks passed and school was the same everyday, you talked to nobody till the very end of the day when Emmett Cullen would ask you about your day, you’d answer, he left so you left. I guess you could call him a friend even. Then your mom would go over her same questions, you didn’t mind it because you liked routine, you were even a little less sad than usual. You even forgot to look in the mirror and tell yourself how horrible you were, you were beginning to ever like Forks.

You woke up in the middle of the night hearing your mother screaming, so you got up and got the gun your mother got you out from your bedside table. You ran to her room and you saw him, your father over top of your mother. She was trying to fight back, but his knee was pressed against her chest. You raised the gun and shot a warning round into the ceiling, but all it did was for him to look back and come after you. Before he got to you something tackled him and knocked him to the ground. The eyes that looked into yours was Emmett Cullen’s, your father was knocked out on the floor, so Emmett went over and checked on your mom, then came over and hugged you.

“Are you okay? I need to call the police, but I need to know if you are okay.” Emmett asked backing up and looking you over.

“Yea, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m grateful, but....” You just quit talking and sat down on the floor. Emmett sat down next to you.

“I’ll explain later, but first I need to call the police, okay?” You just shook your head, then Emmett was standing up talking on the phone. The police showed up and talked to you all and Emmett never left your side. Chief Swan came over to talk to you.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Chief Swan and I need to know what happened here tonight, we need to take your mom to the hospital for some injuries, who is this man on the floor?” When he asked that you didn’t really want to answer him.

“That’s my father. I don’t know how he found us, I thought we were safe this time.” After you said that you started sobbing about to fall to your knees, but someone caught you and was holding you. “Is my mom okay?” You asked through the tears.

“She’ll be okay, come with me and I’ll take you to the hospital so you can be with her, Mr. Cullen I need you to come with me to so I can ask you some questions.” Chief Swan said, so Emmett and you walked to the Chief’s car and he took you all down the road. The ride to the hospital was quiet, you didn’t feel like talking, you just wanted to be with your mom, you just wanted to make sure she was okay.

The night was long an you had nurses coming in and out updating you about your mom, Emmett and Chief Swan eventually came back into the room.They both sat down with you. You expected the Chief to ask you more questions, but he just sat there next to you and occasionally patted your back, he was a kind man. Eventually the Doctor came out, he looked at Emmett and you saw it, the remorse in his eyes.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Cullen, y/n can I speak with you alone?” He asked. You got up and followed him, “Your mother has very serious injuries the amount of force against her chest caused a lot of damage and her being choked caused a lack of oxygen to the brain, she’s....” You interrupted him.

“Just tell me, is my mother going to survive?” You asked him and before he answered you saw the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but she won’t make it through the night. Is there anybody you can call?” He asked, not realizing you were completely alone in this world. You just walked away from him, you walked out of the hospital doors, not realizing someone was following you. Once you were outside you screamed, you screamed until you lost your voice and your power. You fell to your knees, then he was there.

“Why did you save me?” You asked him, your voice almost too horse to hear.

“I will always save you.” Emmett said, slowly pulling you into his arms.

#twilight #twilight imagines #emmett cullen #emmett x reader #imagines #twilight saga #before bella #part 1 #i will always save you #emmett cullen x reader

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you-got-a-crush · 7 years

Text

Locked In: Part 1

✨Sup my dudes! I’m trying to get to everyone’s asks and requests as fast as I can without making everything look too rushed or sloppy so don’t worry if I haven’t gotten to you yet. Anyways, this is part 1 of a multiple part series (I’m not sure how long this is going to be) and so far I’m really happy with how it’s going! While I’m working on this I’ll also be working on other shorter imagines too so don’t worry. This’ll be more angsty than what I usually do so I hope you guys like it!✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t intend for it to happen, of course you didn’t. One minute you were trying on some clothes at one of your favorite stores in the mall, and the next minute you found yourself waking up from a long nap in one of the dressing rooms. Rubbing your eyes and sitting up, you looked into the mirror and realised your situation. You were still wearing the clothes you were trying on too. Okay, so maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up until 4:00 binging Netflix, and maybe it wasn’t that great of an idea to decide to wait last minute to go dress shopping for an upcoming wedding for a distant relative you barely knew about. Your previous initial fatigue vanished and you sprang quickly to life. As fast as you could you stripped off the floral dress that now had wrinkles on it everywhere from being hunched over on the small chair in the dressing room. You mentally said sorry to the people working at the store for wrinkling the dress, and fumbled to throw your regular clothes back on. How long did I sleep for? Probably not too long, you thought, if it had been too long I’d probably have been woken up by one of the workers or something. With your clothes back on, you gathered your purse and the dress now hanging from the hanger it was originally perched on, and took one last glance at your reflection to make sure you looked at least a little presentable. The bags under your eyes hadn’t necessary cleared up from your nap, but the crumbled mascara and the smudged eyeliner sort of covered it up, which was both a positive and negative thing. Trying not to create more of a scene than you felt you had by spending probably more than the usual time in a dressing room, you made your way out of the women’s dressing room and into the store. Where is everyone? You scanned the clothing store for any sign of life and to your dismay there was none in sight. Great. As if on cue, your phone began to ring loudly, almost echoing in the deserted store. “Hello?” “Oh my gosh thank goodness you’re okay, where are you? I’ve been texting you for hours, are you still looking for a dress? Do you even know what time it is?” “Mom, no I’m fine,” you muttered into your phone pressed to you ear, “sorry I… had my phone turned off, “ you lie through gritted teeth. It wasn’t normal for you to just lie to anyone, especially not you mom. Truthfully, you didn’t know what time it was so instead of listening to your mom continue to babble and pepper you with more questions, you checked the time on your phone. The clock at the top of the screen read 11:34 pm., shit. “Hello? Are you even listening to me Y/N?” “Oh yeah, um, yes, I… uh…” “No of course you weren’t,” You could hear the exasperation in your mom’s voice, “Where are you? Are you at Y/B/F/N’s house again?” You paused, thinking it through, the store’s probably locked and closed by now, and unless I want to call 911 and have to explain my embarrassing situation to the police, I’ll have to ride this night out until a worker comes in the morning to get me out of here. Might as well go with the obvious answer, “Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you. I saw her at the mall and she invited me over. I couldn’t say no she was… practically begging me to come stay because her… pet died… and she wanted a comforting shoulder to …. cry on,” You winced anticipating your mom’s answer, did she buy it? After a couple seconds of silence your mom’s voice piped up, “It’s fine honey just make sure to come home right away in the morning. Oh, and tell Y/B/F/N and her parents that I say hi!” “Of course mom,” you said releasing a silent sigh of relief, “I’ll see you tomorrow, love you,” “Love you too!” You hung up and thrust your phone into your back pocket. What were you going to do? The first thing you wanted to check, after throwing the dress onto a random rack, was the doors. You jogged down to one of the main doors to the store and shook the knob, locked. You tried the other doors, even the back doors, but all were locked from the inside. How’d they get locked from the inside like this? Isn’t it usually the other way around? You shook it off as just something that was normal that this store might just do. Whatever, you had bigger fish to fry. You raked the ceiling for cameras and sure enough there was two. One was closest to the cash register and the second one was aimed at the door. The store wasn’t very large either, it was just one of the many clothing stores in the mall that shared identical walls with the other similar shaped ones. It was eery, and the realization finally truly kicked in. You’re in a store, at the mall, alone. Without the usual shuffling around and light chatter of customers and the soft playing of beachy summer music that usually played in this store, it sent a shiver up your spine. You already knew from the time that you spent working here a few years ago that the store always opened at 8:00 am, and workers arrived at 7:00 am. The store officially closed at 9:30, so no workers would still be hanging around this late. While still standing in shock in the center of the little store, you felt like you heard a faint voice. It was barely a whisper, but from the sheer silence of the room it almost resonated from the back of the store. Turning towards the voice you listened intently for it again, and there it’s was. Maybe there’s still someone working? You tiptoed closer to the dressing room where the voice was coming from. As you got closer to the door leading to the men’s dressing room the voice grew steadily loudly, but you still couldn’t make any words out. Your steps increased but stayed light, not caring anymore that it was the men’s dressing room you were walking into, you wanted to find someone, anyone, to get you out of here. The silence and feeling of being alone had already started to settle in your throat, making the air feeling heavy. The very last stall was closed, but with a crack left open so it didn’t have the words occupied above the door handle. There was definitely someone in there. For some reason you paused before opening the door, the voice sounded vaguely familiar. For a few split seconds you contemplated opening the door, but you couldn’t find any reason for your hesitance so before you could rethink your decision, you slammed the door open. When you opened the door the first thing you saw was the camera. The next thing you saw was the guy on the floor sitting cross legged with his hand holding onto the camera. You scanned the floor and saw that it was trashed with candy wrappers and water bottles, one was sitting upright and had a strangely yellow liquid inside that could only be assumed to be urine. You looked onto the chair to see a black backpack, and lastly your eyes met his. C/N’s eyes locked onto yours, the shock apparent on his face and you could feel your mouth dropping open. “What the heck are you doing here?” He exclaimed after what felt like years of just staring at each other, jumping up and shoving his camera into his pocket. “Me? What about you? Who were you talking to?” “Long story,” You narrowed your eyes and started to pull the pieces together, “Wait, were you just vlogging?” “Don’t judge me,” he started defensively, crossing his arms across his chest, “and hey I asked you first why are you here?” Instead of actually answering the question you started laughing, “I can’t believe you were just vlogging oh my gosh this is hilarious, are you doing one of those things?” You could barely keep in your laughter and saw as you kept talking his face grew more and more downturned, “Like when YouTubers stay for 24 hours in a movie theater of something? Oh my gosh I didn’t think you’d be the type of person to do that!” “For your information,” He retorted, standing up straighter, your laughter quickly fading at the seriousness of his voice, “I am the type of person to do that, and I make money from it. Don’t judge me when you obviously have a worse situation than me,” You inched closer to him, trying to maintain your ground, “Well I’m sorry if I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and may or may not fell asleep in one of the changing rooms?” “Huh, I didn’t think you were the type of person to do that” “Don’t use my own words against me!” “Don’t laugh at my YouTube channel!” “For your information,” you said, trying and failing to do an impression of him, “I wasn’t laughing at your YouTube channel, I was laughing at the fact that you actually peed in a bottle. How long have you been here?” “Ha Ha very funny, you should really think of a career as a comedian. I’ve been here for almost,” He quickly took out his phone and glanced down at the time, “17 hours!” “How has anyone not found you? Haven’t your parents been worried? I was gone for only four hours and my mom sent me over a hundred texts!” “Well I’m not like you, and maybe my parents don’t care about me as much so I think you should shut the hell up and stop telling me how to live my life!” C/N’s words echoed slightly in the small dressing room. Nobody said anything for a moment, and the air felt even more heavy than before. You could’ve heard a pin drop from the other end of the store and the air suddenly felt like it was charged with static. You immediately felt regretful, he was your crush, but you didn’t know anything beyond what happened at school. You shouldn’t have been so harsh with him in the first place. It was almost at the same moment that you felt regretful, you also noticed how close you were standing in front of C/N. His face was mere centimeters from yours, and his eyes were swirling with emotion. Even this close you couldn’t tell for sure what he was feeling. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, could smell his piny scent, even from where you were standing. You wanted so badly to dissolve into nothing from shame but at the same time you wanted to take this moment of anger and frustration and seal it with a white hot kiss. Suddenly he must have noticed the closeness too, and C/N jumped and turned, his back facing you. Without a word he began collecting his stuff, camera, trash, bottles, and throwing into his backpack. Where is he going? We’re stuck in here for the rest of the night. That’s when it truly sank in, with everything that came with this night so far, it all came crashing down. You could have taken this time and gotten closer to him, but instead, within maybe minutes, now he hated you. For seven hours you were going to be stuck with C/N, alone. This was going to be a bumpy ride.

#crush imagines #crush imagine #crush #imagine #series #locked in #three

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years

Text

Why Nobody Calls 911 in a Horror Film

Summertime. Renovation season. Guys everywhere drive around with their trunks open and their wood hanging out. Wooden skeletons of houses stand as three guys named Darryl rip out the inside. Used, barely functional appliances sit on the curb with signs that read "take me dump and run" taped to them.

I had a simple job: laying tile. Did it get done? No way.

Angelica Middleton's father, Alfred, dropped me off at the house so I could do the work while she, Cynthia Wyatt, and Kathleen Kolnicov could go see The LEGO Captain Underpants Movie. They decided that I wouldn't be joining them.

I kind of brought this on myself, though. It's my fault that Angelica has to move. I could never find anybody to sit with at lunch, so I just started eating on my own. However, our school recently passed a rule that said that you can't eat lunch by yourself in the event that you choke oh, there will be no one to heimlich you. That meant I stopped eating lunch, instead choosing to tank up at breakfast. Angelica's father heard about it, and he tried the same thing because there was somebody at his work that kept stealing his lunch. This translated to him working at lunch a lot more, which in turn led to a promotion.

The promotion is not the reason that they're moving. The reason that they're moving is because an old rival of Alfred got extremely jealous, and the Middleton's are now fearing for their safety.

There's a problem: they can't sell the house as is because it's one mouse infestation away from being condemned. So now, they have to go through the trouble to fix it up.

How do I know that they're moving away to avoid an enemy? I asked Alfred why the garage door had a note on it that said "I came by to slay my enemy, but no one was home. I will be back later." Apparently, that's the reason.

Once I started working the tile, I couldn’t help but think about the note on the garage door. It made me think of a horror movie, and then, a few micro seconds later, I began to wonder why nobody ever called 911 in a horror movie. Of course, if someone called 911 in a horror movie, there would be no movie; but it didn’t seem like the real answer.

I soon found out half an hour into doing the tile job. I looked up from the work, and I saw this: a skeletal, possibly rabid man standing on the front lawn, teeth bared, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Without hesitation, I picked up my cell phone and called 911. Good call, right?

Wrong. I waited on hold for about 10 minutes, and I ended up speaking with someone in India. " Hello, thank you for calling 911 Emergency Services, my name is Priya, how can I help you?"

"Oh my God, I thought you would have never picked up." I said as quietly as possible, "There’s a guy standing on our lawn. He's just glaring at me, I think he might have rabies. Can you get the police out here?"

Surprisingly, the dispatcher disagreed with me. "Rabies is not a police emergency, that is a medical emergency," she said, "I'm sorry, but we only handle medical emergencies on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday."

"But today is Wednesday!" I protested.

"No, no. Today is Tuesday." she corrected me, "Please hold while we transfer you."

I waited on hold for almost an hour. Finally, the second dispatcher picked up. "911, this is Vijay, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"There's this guy with rabies standing on my front lawn, I think he's going to attack me."

Once again, my complaint went ignored. "Today is Tuesday, and your emergency sounds like a police emergency" he said. I could hear him disagreeing with me through the phone. "We do not handle police emergencies on Tuesdays."

"Today is Wednesday."

"My calendar says that today is Tuesday."

"No, it's Wednesday"

He then explained it to me. It kind of sounded like he thought I was stupid. "We go by the calendar in our office, not by where you are located. Our schedule says we handle police emergencies on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. Today is Tuesday, we do not handle police emergencies today. Please call back on Wednesday"

I grew more an more impatient. "Today is Wednesday!"

"Please hold"

They made me wait on hold again!

From there on out, it just got worse and worse. As I wait to speak with another agent, I look out the window, and it dawns on me that the guy isn’t on the lawn…what I’m seeing is his reflection.

Dammit. He’s in the house. The crazy rabid man is in the house.

The dispatcher picked up. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “Hello, what is your emergency?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. "Shit" I muttered under my breath.

“I’m sorry,” the dispatcher replied, “diarrhea is not an emergency.”

By now, I’m scared out of my mind and frustrated as hell. “NO!” I bellowed, “I just realized that I’ve been looking at the guy’s reflection…he’s in the house!! Get the cops!”

I wound up back to where I started. And it’s even worse now, because the guy is in the house, waiting to lunge.

I’m genuinely scared. “I’m sorry, I cannot call police. That is not my department. Please hold.”

This time, I was only on hold for about five minutes, because their offices had closed.

To hell with this. To hell with everything. I don’t care if the tiling got finished, I had to get out of there. Screw the renovations, screw having to wait on hold, screw the international date line; I’m going home.

I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life. But I didn’t run fast enough to avoid running into Alfred in the crosswalk. "Please tell me you finished the tiling" he said in an exasperated tone.

I shook my head. "No, but I'm pretty sure you'll understand why" I responded, panting, "a crazy guy with rabies got into the house and was a hair's breadth from chasing me down."

"Really?"

"Really"

"Shit"

I'm really surprised how he took it. I was half expecting him to say some angry, quasi-meaningful thing like you’re mad at getting caught, but it was your fault for not being careful. There are some dangerous people around you and it seems to me that you like messing with them. Don't come crying to me when it's time to pay for your misdeeds. Caught doing what? I don't even think that would even apply to my situation. In fact, I'm not even sure that phrase makes any sense. Honestly, it sounds like an AI trying to guilt trip people. "You're... you're taking this awfully well." I say, my voice still shaking a teeny bit.

Alfred sighed. He turned to Angelica. "Sweetie, we have to leave faster.”

"But we're not done renovating-"

"Forget about the renovation" Alfred interrupted, "we're just going to go somewhere where Richard can't find us."

#writing #666th post #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #creepy #Witterprompts #dramedy

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

{TH} Heaven

Whenever my Mom told me not to worry when she died, I never thought too much about it, I always just thought that whenever the time would come, I would be ready or something. But when the day rolled around, it hit me out of nowhere. It was really unexpected since she died of a severe heart attack. I cried whenever I would think about her and there really seemed to be a dark cloud following me around wherever I went. I felt like there was this black hole in my chest that I couldn’t get rid of that, would suck in any kind of happiness that would come my way. Eventually, the funeral came by, it seemed like it breezed by with a lot of apologies.

“I’m so sorry for your loss”

“I'm here for anything you need”

My wife, Andrea helped me through all of the apologies and pain that came with it. Life moved on and I started to learn how to deal with the pain. Weeks went, then months. I came home one day from work when my wife told me to sit down. I didn’t know what to think since she usually is the happiest person that I’d ever met. I was partially expecting her to tell me that she was pregnant or something, but all she could do was cry. I kept asking her what was wrong when she finally blurted it out.

“I'm sick Jack. They found a tumor in my brain. The doctors told me that I only have maybe a month or two left.”

When she said that, it felt like my whole world came crashing down. I didn’t know if I could deal with it again.

“What about removing it?”

“It’s too dangerous to do, they say that it’s on my brain stem and they can’t

Operate.”

It didn’t make any sense. I just lost someone and now I'm going to have to lose another one of the most important people that I have?

“They won’t even try it?”

“If they were to go in and try it, first off it’d be expensive and not even guaranteed that it would work.”

“Let's just try it and see if it works.”

“Jack, I won’t go in and do it. I won’t leave you with all of that debt if it’s not even guaranteed.”

When she said that, it finally hit me what this means. I won’t be able to hear her laugh anymore, see her smile, weird quirks, anything that makes her, her will be gone forever. Then I started to cry. She hugged me which made it feel even worse thinking that in a month or so I won’t ever be able to feel that again.

“What are we gonna do?”

My voice was hoarse from not talking for so long.

“We’ll just have to make the best out everything that we do and make memories while we still can.”

That whole night all we did was spend time together. Watch our favorite movies: Kung Fu Panda, and Transformers. When we woke up in the morning we decided we should probably tell her family and friends. We spent most of the day driving around or on the phone telling everybody. It wasn’t easy since hearing everybody’s reaction solidified it and made it all too real. We ended up going out and picked up some McDonald’s and went back home. Sleeping that night was difficult thinking about it over and over again.

Periodic hospital visits made my life just a drag. It seemed like that was the new thing to think about. I tried to make everything amazing for her and put on a happy face but I feel like she could see through. She seemed happy all things considering, but I could tell sometimes that things weren’t great for her. Then things changed. We both seemingly thought that we won’t have much time left together. There were more genuine smiles, laughter, and hugs. The day that she was put into the hospital was one of the worst days of my life. She had headaches, couldn’t stand and could rarely get out of bed. When she died it felt like it wasn’t real. I'm not going to explain it again but it was a bit worse this time around. Right before she died she told me:

“Y’know these past few weeks have probably been the best of my life, i'm happy to have spent them with you.”

She looked tired and ready to go.

“Andrea, you know this isn’t goodbye, it’s just see you later?”

When she died though, I saw the weirdest thing. There was some black smoke out in the hallway that only I seemed to be able to see. Anyone I asked just said that they didn’t see anything and a few just asked me if I was crazy. Some people I talked to just said that it might be some way of my brain dealing with the death of Andrea but I knew what I saw. It was this black wispy smoke that just sat there. Almost like it was sentient in a way. I didn’t follow it because I wasn’t going to leave yet. When I went home I looked it up on Google but all the things that kept popping up just kept saying the same thing. Ways Your Brain Deals With Stress. I looked through a few articles but nothing helped. I was starting to wonder if I was just imagining it but when I did, Facebook gave me a notification about a post from almost a year ago. It was my post about my Mom’s death. All I could think about was the timing. It was nearly impeccable if you were thinking in a morbid sort of way. My wife died exactly a year after my Mom did. I felt like I should maybe do some research.

I opened a new tab and typed in Black Smoke Death. I was definitely reaching but a part of me thought that there was no way that two of the most important people in my life could die exactly a year apart. Nothing popped up. I wasn’t surprised just figured I should maybe get to bed.

I didn’t talk to people for what felt like maybe months. My friends came over and decided they should probably get me back up and running as a productive member of society. They got me to take a shower, get out of bed and try to get a job as I was fired from my old one because I stopped showing up. I ended up getting a job as a painter just painting the sides of buildings. One day after I got home and took a nap I got a message on my phone. It was my friend Marcus

“Hey Jackson, its Marcus. I-I just don’t know what to do man. Alyssa broke up with me a-and if you could just come over for a bit I just wanna talk to someone for a bit.”

That message was an hour and a half old. My friend Marcus had always had problems with depression and I knew this couldn’t be any good. I decided to take my truck over to his house to see if he was still okay.

Once I got to his apartment, I tried his cell and he wasn’t answering his phone. Fearing the worst, I ran up the stairs and found his apartment then knocked on the door.

“Marcus, it’s Jackson, can you open up the door?’

Nobody answered the door and I didn’t even hear anyone moving around on the inside so I shakily grabbed the keys to his apartment that he gave me a few months ago for playing games in case he was in an important game and didn’t want to get up to interrupt it. He wasn’t in his living room so I walked into his bedroom and that’s when I found it.

He was slumped over in his bed with foam coming out of his mouth. I ran over to see some pills next to his bed and tried to roll him over because that’s what they always say to do in movies so they don’t choke but it seemed like I was too late.

“Marcus! Marcus, wake up, please. Don’t tell me you did something stupid just wake up man.”

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My friend I - I think he overdosed and I don’t know what to do.”

We went through all of the normalities, if that’s what you want to call it because at this point things like this were beginning to feel familiar. He was still breathing but really shallow and seemingly less and less. Ten minutes went by and the paramedics still hadn’t showed up. The next time I checked his pulse and his breathing, there was nothing. My heart sank.

Then something caught my eye. It was something black out in the hallway. I hadn’t closed the door yet since I was in such a hurry. It was the same thing that I saw at the hospital with Andrea. This time, I knew I had to follow it. When I ran out into the hallway, I kept following it until it went into some janitors closet.

When I went in I felt like the thing knew me and knew what I wanted.

“What are you doing this for?”

When I shouted, the smoke thing turned to me but said nothing.

“Why are you hurting these people and all of the people in their lives, and why are you doing this to me?”

The thing just sat there and didn’t move. This made me even more angry. Then the smoke turned around and just dissipated into the wall.

“No!”

Then I ran back to my friends apartment and tried to see if I could do anything but at this point the paramedics were already there. They were doing CPR seeing if they could resuscitate Marcus to no avail. They asked me why I left and I told them seeing my friend dead I couldn’t handle it so went out into the hallway for a second. The cops asked me all of the questions that they normally would and then let me go home.

Once I got home, at this point I just felt so numb and so absolutely crushed. It seemed just unreal. My Mom, My Girlfriend, and now Marcus. Then I got a notification on my phone from Facebook again. Then I realized it had been four months since Andrea’s death and a year and four months since my Mom’s death. Exactly. Same day, just a few months apart. I knew I might be losing it so I decided to try and sleep for the night. It took forever for me to even be able to start to droop to sleep but I finally did.

When I woke up though, I was somewhere different. I was in a cave somewhere that was dark, illuminated only by a few lanterns hanging on the wall. It was extremely hot, the ground almost burning my skin just me laying there. Then that’s when I realized that I was chained to the ground. I looked around the medium sized cave and there was nobody with me.

“Hello?”

When I shouted the sound seemed deafening. The sound reverberated off of the cave walls like daggers coming back at me. Then all of a sudden, something appeared in front of me. The smoke. But this time it spoke.

“Jackson Daniels. Your mom, your wife, and now your best friend. I would say I feel bad but I don’t.”

The way it said this told me that whatever this was meant it and was so confident in the way he said it it sent me into a cower.

“Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is where you are.”

“Where am I?

Hearing my voice echo off I could hear how shaky my voice was and it made me try to sound more confident, to no avail.

“You’re in Hell.”

Once the words hit my eardrums my stomach sank, my heart along with it.

“What do you mean, i'm in Hell?”

“Don’t ask me why,everyone’s Hell is different. Some are physical pain, some are mental, et cetera, et cetera, but yours is watching everyone you know and love die over and over again. How charming.”

This thing was taunting me when I just lost my best friend and I don’t even know how I got here.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

I'm guessing my look gave it away.

“This cycle starts every time with your mother dying and ends with your best friend kicking it too, then you’re sent back here for one of us to reset you so you can start all over again with no memory so you can get the full effect.”

Now, things were starting to become clearer. That would explain the smoke.

“So, everyone isn’t actually dead in my real life?”

“Oh yeah, they’re all dead.”

“Is there a way out?”

“Nope. Once you’re here, you’re here for eternity.”

“Who are you?”

What seemed like laughter came from the smoke and made my stomach feel even worse.Things were starting to get darker and darker.

“So i’m in Hell?”

“Your Hell but my Heaven.”

When I got the call that my Mom died, I always thought I would be ready...

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