#but digging deep enough to go square-dancing with the Devil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spareisms · 3 years

Text

@princewished hey remember when u said to continue our modern thread ?? big mistake

By 1:00, Anna was starting to sober up.

Maybe not sober up, but she definitely wasn't as drunk as she'd been before. The songs started to make more sense, stopped blurring into one another between trips to the bar with Ariel and trips to the dance floor with Jasmine.

Between drunken adventures, her steps became stronger, her mind focused on Aladdin and their fight. Curling fingers and twisting words swam in her mind, and she chased it down with vodka and redbull. She remembered the pain he'd caused her through his lie. His lie, there wasn't a way around it. He'd snuck into her socialite club, with it's fancy titles and monuments and trust funds. The art gallery full of the elite, of riches, of checks to be signed and lineages to be upheld. Anna and Elsa were representing their parents' buisness, the stocks and companies imposing and overwhelming. At least, that's how Anna felt about it. Elsa was really the one with the answers. But, Anna knew her role, her part to play. And, while she didn't want to be the head of the company by any means, she also didn't want any harm to come to her parents' legacies.

She wouldn't let anything happen to her family, whatever was left of it.

So, with enough people like Hans Westerguard or Dukes Weasleton to worry about, she had more on her plate than she could handle. Even before Aladdin had entered the gallery, th when it came to Aladdin's betrayal.

His lie.

But....even if it was a lie -- wasn't it only because he'd wanted to impress her? To show her he was serious? About them? He'd gone through all that trouble, all that confusion and deceit -- could it all have been for some kind of noble reason? Could it all have been for her?

Anna wasn't sure of anything anymore.

In fact, by 1:30, she realized just how little she understood anything at all.

She'd lost Ariel and Jasmine. Somewhere between the bathroom, the smoking sections, the various bars in the club -- her friends must have found some other guys to hang out with or something, god knows they were beautiful enough. But her thoughts weren't quite connecting to each other. She felt like she was stumbling around the dance floor instead of shimmying -- before she knew it she was off the floor completely.

Outside....outside please.

Some fresh air, away from the loud music and sweaty bodies she didn't know and drinks she couldn't finish (where did she put her last drink? where did she get this one?)

The cold air outside the club washed over her in breezy waves, ruffling her hair around her shoulders and the dress around her knees. It felt really quite nice to be outside and even started digging around in her purse for her phone to tell the girls she'd be out here for a while. After a few moments trying to find the damn thing, though, she gave up, head pounding again. What was she looking for, again?

She walked along the side of SYNDROME'S, the warehouse's brick exterior extended beyond. Leaving behind the crowded front street and beckoning to the darkened alleyways and the side streets, it seemed another world away.

Her fingers scaled the brick wall, she even hummed a little bit. What was she humming? Not sure. Why was she so mad at Aladdin, anyway? She couldn't deny that she missed him, even as mad as she was at him for what he did. For what a fool he made out of her. But, he also had a lop-sided grin. And that ruffled hair that she so loved to touch. And his eyes -- ok, maybe she was allowing herself to miss some parts of him. But that didn't mean she forgave him. It didn't mean she wanted to ever talk to him again. It certainly didn't mean that. As she walked, she got a text, and from the ringtone she knew exactly who'd sent it.

"Speak of the devil," she mumbled, a smile creeping onto her lips. Then, her hand was in her purse, fingers reaching around her unlocking phone. Her feet had just crossed into shadows. Her stride swallowed in black.

"And we appear."

The voices that answered made her freeze in the darkness.

Anna had to muster up a lot of focus before she could muster up anything resembling focus. She had to make sure she'd even heard them correctly. Men. Two of them at least, talking at once. She felt her feet twist around almost on their own, and her head was dangerously close to swimming. Fuck, was all she could think. "Hello?" Was all she could call out. "Hello," answered the considerably much bigger forms from the blackness. Anna's hand tightened around her phone. She wished she could pull it out, but she didn't want it to even be noticed -- it could get slapped away. She wasn't sure that line of thinking made sense, but for now it was all she had. She hoped it was unlocking. She prayed her random thumbing on the screen would be enough to dial someone. Anyone. Even Aladdin, whose ringtone had just gone off moments ago, had just restarted her thumping heart.

She knew she was in deep trouble. Because it was with a sickening feeling that twisted her stomach and chilled her spine, that Anna realized she recognized the voices. The identical voices.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice quite a bit stronger than she thought it would be. Considering how much she was shaking. Could they tell, in the dark? "Or should I ask, what does Westerguard want?" "Now, see -- I told you she'd ruin all the fun, didn't I?" In two steps that seemed to take no time at all, the Stabbington brother with an eyepatch (a literal eyepatch, who was this guy?) was directly in front of Anna. The limiting darkness was less effective when someone was this close. Anna instinctively backed herself up into the wall, startled and scurrying like a frightened rabbit. She was frightened -- she was very frightened.

She knew exactly what Hans was capable of. And sending others in to do his dirty work for him well -- it was just like Hans. Anna's blood was ice.

"He said you'd talk a lot," Brutus went on, his breath warm on Anna's face. "Luckily, you won't have much to say in a bit. I even say you're already feeling a bit less chatty, right?" His tone made Anna hesitate. How did he know her tongue suddenly felt heavy and square? That her brain was layered in a thick fog? Her fingers felt like lead and tingled at the same time. Her eyes had trouble focusing.... Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh no. Ohhno...

Her absolute stupidity rolled over her in waves, much like the heavy blanket of whatever it was she'd taken. Whatever it was they'd given her. "But don't worry, we'll do all the talking anyway." There were hands on her, keeping her upright and against the wall. Her head was lolling, Marcus snapped it back, her bangs and the top of her head balled up in his giant fists.

"We're going to make this fast --" "Title of your sex tape--" Anna wasn't sure what made her say it aloud- probably because she didn't realize she'd said it at all until she was slapped very hard across the face. She also heard quiet laughter, but the fingers wrapped around her arms and ribs were quite a bit stronger from then on. She knew it would bruise.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, and listen. We have a message for you." Oh goodie, thought Anna, though she stiffened. "Westerguard knows you're up to something. You and your precious sister have those investments hidden from the public, but we're not fooled. The merger with Southern Isles Trading will continue as scheduled."

There was a pause. Good luck with that, was what she wanted to say, but the words couldn't sort themselves out.

"So -- you think... I --" she couldn't get the words right. Her voice was trembling, her last understandable words (though hilarious) completely useless. She kicked out in frustration, finding one of their knees and landing a blow, hard. Her reward for bravery was her head getting slammed in the wall. Anna saw stars and cried out, a bit more of her resolve escaping.

All this was about money? About the companies? Her disdain for her family businesses, though profitable, though useful and charitable and valuable to her, though she cherished it -- she couldn't help but hate it all the same. Hate the kind of person Hans was. Power-hungry, a monster.

"And, Westerguard wanted us to remind you of something... else," Brutus went on. To Anna's horror, he was able to hold his one arm across her entire torso, his brother holding her hips and head. But with his other hand, Brutus withdrew a long knife from his pocket. Anna felt the cold blade before she really registered what it was, what it could do.

He dragged it up her thighs, across her stomach, held it against her throat. He pressed it down, the blade lay flat against her skin. Anna couldn't breathe. She was trembling now, she whimpered. She couldn't help it. "Don't forget," Marcus murmured in her ear. Her heart was beating so loudly she was amazed she heard him at all. "Your.....arrangement still stands." He cut into her cheek. She screamed, but no sound came out. ----------

It had started to rain. She wasn't really sure when she noticed the rain, or for how long it had been raining. Anna wasn't sure where to go, or what to do, really, but she didn't want to get rain on.

The Stabbingtons had left 20 minutes later. Or, at least, her phone said it was 20 minutes later, since Aladdin had first texted her. Her phone had managed to call him, but she couldn't read what anything said. She could barely keep her eyes open, and her head hadn't stopped spinning like a top. She was glad her dress was red. Even though it was ruined, surely, at least nobody would see all the blood. Just the cuts on her face. And arm. And her knee was pretty banged up, too. But the stuff on her back, from the wall? Maybe that would go mostly unnoticed?

Not that there was anyone around to see her, anyway.

The rain started to pick up, but Anna didn't know where to go. Not back inside the club -- that was too much attention. She didn't know where to walk to -- in her state, she'd probably end up on the highway. And the ground wasn't so bad. She was underneath a lamppost now, after continuing down the alleyway, this time towards FRONT STREET. Nothing felt like it was working right -- how had she even ended up outside? She wanted to cry. This night had been a total disaster from the very start, her own stupidity not included. The terror from the encounter with Hans' bodyguards was rippling through her. She stumbled frequently and had to catch herself on the wall a few times. Your arrangement. Your arrangement. Your arrangement. Your arrangement still stands. Anna leaned back against the side of the alley, lampost's ugly yellow light shining just enough for her to see what a mess she was. She pulled her knees up and rested her burning cheek between her knees, cradling it in her hands. She was shaking heavily now, from the cold, from the blood, from the knife, from the information, from the overwhelming pain. She was trapped. It was useless. She was useless. The lampost flickered twice and went out.

The night swallowed her whole.

1 note · View note

whumpdoyoumean · 6 years

Text

I’VE COMPLETED MY FIRST BINGO SQUARE!!! @badthingshappenbingo

Happy birthday @the-whumpy-fangirl and thank you for the request!

Prompt: Coughing up blood; Fandom: Firefly; Whumpee: Simon

Read it on Ao3 here or down below!

If a fight breaks out, Simon is to either get out of the building or find someplace to stand where it’s unlikely he’ll catch a fist or an elbow or a pool cue. That’s always been the rule, unspoken because Simon really isn’t one who needs to be told to avoid senseless violence and because frankly, he can’t fight worth shit.

So it’s a surprise to everyone when he boards the Serenity with a facefull of blood and bruises, one arm draped around Jayne’s shoulder, the other curled around his ribs. He looks miserable, humiliated, and fed-up, all rolled into a single expression that would be less amusing if not for the fact that it’s paired with Jayne’s broad smile.

Kaylee wears a look of shock, eyes huge and eyebrows high. Book looks worried for a moment before saying something no one hears and hurrying off, presumably to the infirmary or to find River or both. Zoe looks unimpressed.

Wash snorts and says in a loud whisper, “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

And Mal, well he just glares at Jayne. “What in the tien shiao duh did you do to my medic?”

“Well, that’s the thing, see,” Jayne says, and his grin grows wider, bordering on gleeful. “He started it!”

xxx a few hours earlier

The thing about surviving an encounter with someone like Jubal Early is that the things that used to seem intimidating or dangerous suddenly don’t. Simon has a scar on his leg to remind him every day that he’d danced with the devil, and he’d come out of it (mostly) intact. And what are drunk, pissed off idiots compared to the devil?

It’s with this mindset that Simon decides to explore Aberdeen, despite its being, as Jayne so eloquently put it, “colder’n a witch’s tit.” His leg hadn’t allowed him to actually leave during shoreleave the last several times they landed, so it’s been weeks since he left the ship. He’s going stir-crazy, and he’s not sure he can make it til the next port. So, he’ll brave the cold.

He digs through his chest until he finds the tailored coat he has folded up in the bottom--a gray, knee-length, double-breasted thing that’s no doubt going to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He pulls it on and is surprised at how familiar and almost comfortable the weight of it is, despite his not having worn it in years. The feeling goes sour though, as all thoughts of what used be home do, and he quickly pushes them down, as he always does.

He does some quick stretches for his leg before peeking into his sister’s bunk. “Hey, River?” He peeks around the door and sighs. Of course she isn’t there. Which means she’s probably in the mess, or Kaylee’s room, or maybe the Shepherd’s (assuming she’s not just wandering around). He heads for the mess first, calling out for her as he goes and checking each room he passes. There’s no sign of her, until he hears the faint sound of her laugh mixing with the rest of the crew. It makes him smile, and he steps a little faster.

“River! I-” He rounds the corner into the mess, and the room falls silent. A quick look around reveals a lot of raised eyebrows and smothered smiles as they take in the sight of him in his coat.

Mal finally says, “What are you all dressed up for?” and his voice is tight with contained laughter, which quickly isn’t contained anymore, and Jayne joins in.

“Alright, alright,” Simon says, not even attempting to hide his annoyance at once again becoming the laughingstock of the ship.

“I think it looks nice,” Kaylee says. “It’s just so...so rich-looking is all. More than usual even.”

Mal wipes at his eye and sighs. “Really, though, what are you doing? ‘Cus she’s right, that’s a mighty fancy coat to be wearing someplace like Aberdeen.”

“It’s the warmest thing I have,” Simon says, trying not to sound defensive. “And I’m going for a walk because I need to get off this ship. It’s been weeks and I could use the exercise.”

Mal nods toward Simon’s left thigh. “Leg’s feelin’ better then?”

“Much.”

The captain claps him on the shoulder. “Good! Why don’t you wait a minute, Jayne’ll go out with you.”

Simon opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again with a frown. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I ain’t babysittin’,” Jayne grunts. “Just got a call from a lady friend of mine recognized the ship, wanted a...” A wicked look crosses his features and he wiggles his eyebrows. “...conjugal visit, if you catch my meaning.”

Kaylee makes a face that perfectly mirrors how Simon is feeling and he makes a small sound of disgust. “Very clearly, yes. Look, I just wanted to tell River that I would be gone for a few hours.” He looks over at her and raises his eyebrows. “And that she is to try and keep out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“Message received,” River says, and smiles. “Loud and clear.”

“We’ll keep a good eye on her,” Kaylee adds.

Simon takes a deep breath and manages a smile of his own. “Of course you will, thank you.”

“Just make sure you’re back ‘fore sundown,” Mal says. “I’m sure Wash’ll have the nav system sorted by then, and then we’re off this rock.” He doesn’t add ‘with or without you,’ but it’s implied.

“Understood, Cap’n.”

He makes it through the ship without bumping into anyone else, which he’s grateful for. He just wants to get away from everyone for awhile. He almost changes his mind when he gets outside; the cold is so sharp it steals his breath away and stings his face.

He hurries to the first store he can find, rushing in and letting out a sigh at the warmth. The door closes behind him, a little bell ringing as it does. He takes a few more steps in and looks around, trying to figure out what kind of shop he’s in. There are knick-knacks by the windows and hatchets hanging on the back wall, and some creepily life-like stuffed animals that he’s beginning to think are actual stuffed animals.

There aren’t many others in the store, and he catches a few of them staring, though they shift their attention if he looks at them, pretending like they weren’t just watching him. Even so, he can feel their eyes on him, and he knows what kind of staring it is. Not the curious kind, but the judging kind. The resentful kind. It’s enough to drive him back out into the cold.

He has similar experiences in the next few places he enters, so he never stays more than a few minutes. He’s in a tea shop when he finally grows sick of it, and he approaches the tiny woman behind the counter.

“Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find someplace to sit, like a bar or a cafe or…” He gestures vaguely, then shrugs.

She looks him up and down with narrowed eyes, then holds a hand out.

“Um…”

“You’ve got spare change, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath and forces himself not to roll his eyes as he digs in his coat pocket. “Here,” he says, dropping a few coins onto her palm. She slips the coins into a pouch at her hip, then points.

“That way, on the left. Place called Waldmann’s.”

“Sheh-sheh,” Simon says with a nod, and turns to the door. He’s almost there when she calls out to him.

“They ain’t gonna like the look of you. I don’t like the look of you.”

This time he does roll his eyes.

The bar isn’t that far, but by the time he gets there his face and fingers and toes are numb. There are more people inside than he would have expected for the relatively early hour, and it’s obvious most of them are just off work. Simon’s pretty sure there’s a mine on this side of the planet, which would make sense given the griminess of the patrons. They watch him as he makes his way to the bar, and unlike the people he’s faced previously they don’t look away from him, instead holding his gaze with eyes that are almost as cold as the weather.

Simon does his best to ignore them. There was a time when he would’ve been intimidated by the sea of dusty, angry faces, but now he’s more annoyed than anything. When he finally makes it to the counter, he leans against it and clears his throat to get the bartender’s attention. The man looks up and takes a long look at Simon and his lip actually curls.

“Can I get a coffee?” Simon asks.

The bartender snorts with a shake of his head. “Ain’t got coffee here, boy.”

Simon scrubs a hand across his face. “Tea, then?”

“What kind of jing-zhang mei yong-duh place do you think this is?”

“Do you have anything warm to drink?” Simon has given up trying to keep the annoyance from his words.

“Got whiskey, that’ll warm you up some.” The bartender smirks as a few of the men at the bar laugh.

Simon grits his teeth. “Can I just get a glass of water, then?”

“Gotta be a payin’ customer if you want water.”

“Pyen juh duh jiou cha wen,” Simon mutters under his breath, getting his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out a few bills. He slaps them on the counter. “Fine. I’ll take a whiskey and a water. Please.”

The bartender makes a show of counting the money before pouring Simon his drinks and sliding them across the counter to him.

“Much obliged,” Simon says, and picks up the glasses before heading for an empty table in the back corner of the establishment. At least there he can sit and rest his leg while people shoot dirty looks at him and whisper to each other. The poor lighting makes it easier to pretend they’re not there. He sits with a sigh, then sips at his water. It’s cold and makes shivers run down his spine, but it’s also refreshing, and cleaner than he would’ve expected. He lifts the whiskey and sniffs at it, quickly setting it down when it makes his nostrils burn and his eyes water. It would warm him, yes, but it would probably also make him go blind and destroy his liver.

He’s contemplating asking for a refill on the water when a man approaches the table. He’s bigger than Simon, and it’s obvious from the look on his face and from the way he carries himself--backs straightened, chest puffed out--that he’s looking to start something.

“Hey, pretty boy,” he says, and he has a thick Dyton accent. He frowns when Simon doesn’t respond. “Oy, I’m talking to you!”

“I heard you, yes,” Simon says, and it takes no effort to sound as unimpressed as he feels. He doesn’t bother looking up at the man. He wants him to know that he’s not worth his full attention.

“I dunno what you think yer doin’ here. We’re not much fans of the Alliance in these parts.” Some nearby men murmur in agreement behind him.

Annoyance it taking a turn toward anger, and Simon grips his glass a little harder. “I’m not Alliance.”

“Like hell, you’re not,” the man says, and reaches forward, grabbing Simon’s whiskey and drinking the whole thing. Simon finally looks up, fixing the man with a cold stare of his own.

“I paid for that,” he says speaking slowly through a tightened jaw. He wasn’t going to drink it anyway, but he can feel his temper rising.

“What’re you goin’a do about it, bao bei?” the man says with a grin.

Simon shakes his head and stands up. It’s probably time to get back to the Serenity. He walks around the table to leave, but the man steps in front of him. and Simon bumps into him, then takes a step back, looking up at the man’s face.

“Step out of my way,” he says, his voice nearly a growl.

“Why don’t you make me?” the man says.

And that’s when Simon hits him, hard, right in the nose. The man stumbles back, letting out a string of curses as blood pours down his face.

Well that was easy, Simon thinks, and then a fist flies into his face and he realizes he’s just gotten himself into a very bad situation as four men descend on him like vultures on roadkill. He fights back as best he can, but he’s not an experienced fighter and they overpower him easily. It’s not long before he’s on the floor, curled up with his arms over his head to try and protect what he can as fists and feet rain down on him. He feels ribs crack, and a second later a foot finds the fresh bullet scar on his leg. The pain makes his vision go black for a moment, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s probably about to get beaten to death. He closes his eyes and waits.

And then he hears cries, the sound of glass breaking, and the blows suddenly stop.

“Well, shit. You’re not already dead, are ya?”

Simon frowns at the familiar voice and opens his eyes to see a mildly concerned looking Jayne looking down at him with that ridiculous orange and yellow hat of his.

“Jayne?” The word comes out garbled and Simon turns to the side and spits out blood before taking Jayne’s outstretched hand. He groans as he’s pulled to his feet. Everything hurts and he almost collapses, but Jayne holds him up.

“You shouldn’t start fights you can’t win,” the mercenary says. There’s a smirk in his voice.

“Wait. You saw the whole thing?” Simon says as they start out.

“Yep,” Jayne says.

“And you couldn’t intervened a little sooner?”

“Well, I thought it was kinda funny, but then you stopped fightin’ back, and I knew Cap’n wouldn’t be too happy if’n I let anything permanent happen. ‘Sides now you owe me one.”

Simon groans.

It’s going to be a long walk.

xxx

“What in the tien shiao duh did you do to my medic?” Mal says, taking in the sight of Simon all black and blue and red.

“Well, that’s the thing, see. He started it!” Jayne says, and laughs.

Simon glares. “I didn’t start it,” he says. “I threw the first punch, but I didn’t start it. Just get me to my med bay, please.”

Mal hurries over and pulls Simon’s free arm around his shoulders. “Your med bay? I think you mean my med bay.” He turns to Zoe and Kaylee. “Zoe, go tell Wash we’re ready to head out. Kaylee, make sure the engine starts up way it should.”

They both nod and do as he says, though Kaylee lingers for a moment before she leaves.

“What exactly happened?” Mal says as he and Jayne and Simon make their way to the infirmary.

“They didn’t like my coat,” Simon responds. “And then Jayne watched while they kicked my ass.”

Malcolm looks over at Jayne with a raised eyebrow.

“What!” Jayne cries, and looks like he’s going to deny it, and then his expression turns sheepish. “Only for a minute. I didn’t let ‘em kill him!”

Mal rolls his eyes. “You best hope young Simon doesn’t use the same philosophy next time you find yourself in need of some doctorin’.”

By the time they make it to the infirmary, Simon’s feet are practically dragging, and Mal has to help him onto the exam chair. He’s out of breath, but he’s conscious which is a good thing ‘cus he’s the only one who knows what he’s doing in this room.

“Get me a cloth, please,” he says. “While I get this yu bun duh coat off.”

Mal looks around, then back at Simon. “And cloths would be…?”

“Under the sink,” Simon says.

“Anything I can do?” Jayne asks from the doorway.

“Leave,” Simon and Mal say at the same time, and Jayne hurries off without argument.

Mal grabs a cloth from under the sink and takes it to Simon. “Here.”

“Sheh-sheh,” Simon says, taking it. “And the bottle of disinfectant there, with the green top.”

“This?” Mal says, holding up a bottle.

Simon nods. “Yes, thank you. And can you hold up the mirror for me please?”

“Is now really the time to be pampering?” Mal says, and lets out a laugh that quickly dies off when he sees how miserable the doctor is. He finds the mirror and returns to Simon’s side, holding it up.

Simon pours some of the disinfectant onto the cloth and sets about cleaning his face, letting out small noises of pain as the solution comes into contact with the small cuts on Simon’s cheeks and temple.

“This is the second time in as many months you’ve had to work on yourself,” Mal says. “Hope you’re not making a habit of it.”

That gets a small smile out of Simon. “I think I need to learn how to fight,” he says. “I think I’m done with the mirror now.” He doesn’t look quite so bad with the blood washed from his face--a black eye, a split lip, a few small cuts, but otherwise okay. It’s the expression he’s wearing that concerns Mal.

“Hey. You okay?”

Simon nods, but he looks worried. Scared even.

“Are you sure?” Mal asks, and his concern spikes when he hears a slight rattling each time Simon breathes. “You’re wheezing.”

“‘m okay,” Simon says, and then breaks into a violent coughing fit. His bends almost in half, body shaking with the force of it, and when he’s finally done there’s blood on the inside of the elbow he coughed into and on his lips and he’s shaking.

“Tah mah duh hwoon dahn!” Mal cries. “That’s not okay! You’re-that’s-”

“t’s okay,” Simon gasps as he tries to catch his breath. “Just...pulmonary contusion…”

“What?”

“Bruised...bruised lungs. ‘ve got...got blood in my lungs. Just need to cough it up. ‘m okay.”

Mal stares at him, eyes wide, and tries not to panic. “You and I have very different definitions of okay! How is that okay? Blood in your lungs?”

“Hand me the-” Simon points frantically and Mal grabs the puke basin, shoving it into Simon’s hands just as he starts coughing again, barking hacks that sound painful and exhausting.

Mal is reminded of the time he got pneumonia as a teen, and his chest aches at the memory. He moves forward and positions himself beside the chair. When Simon’s coughing pauses again, Mal takes the basin from his hands and holds it. It’s a small gesture, and he’s not sure Simon understands it, but he does it anyway. He’s not sure how much time passes, but finally Simon leans back against the chair, and his breathing sounds better.

“Done?” Mal asks.

Simon nods and Mal takes the basin to the sink, empties it, and runs some water in it. When he turns back around, Simon’s eyes are closed.

“Hey, now.” Mal walks over and gives the doctor’s shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” Simon responds.

“Let’s get you to your bunk,” Mal says.

“‘m fine here”

“After a beating like that, you wanna sleep in your own bed. Trust me.” He pulls Simon’s arm around his shoulders, helping the young man to his feet. He lets out a low groan, moving gingerly and curling his free arm around his ribs.

“Got it?” Mall asks, and Simon nods wordlessly. They shuffle awkwardly along, and it’s slow going, but Mal doesn’t mind. He suspects Simon might be embarrassed about it later, though.

“Aiya,” Simon suddenly swears.

“What?” Mal stiffens, worried the young man might start coughing again. When he looks over at Simon, though, his ears are red, and Mal smiles with understanding. “Gotta piss?’

Simon bobs his head.

“Alright, I’ll get you there but I’m not holding you up while you do it.” Simon doesn’t answer, and Mal guides him to the nearest head. A few minutes pass, and Mal is worried Simon may have passed out, when the door opens and Simon staggers forward, his face pale.

“Pissing blood?” Mal asks.

“A little,” Simon says.

“That was one helluva beating, huh?”

Simon hums in response. A few steps later, he says, “Why’re you being so nice to me?”

The question takes him by surprise, but Mal knows what the answer is. When that bounty hunter had been aboard the Serenity, Simon had been alone with the maniac and he'd been...brave. Defiant. He hadn’t talked about it much, but Mal could tell from the bullet hole in his leg. He isn’t the same person he’d been when he first boarded Serenity with his sister.He sure as hell isn’t the same person Mal used to think he was. He’s not some spoiled rich kid anymore. And though Mal would never admit it, Simon is almost starting to feel like one of the crew.

That’s what the answer is. What Mal says is, “A good ass kicking is the mark of a man.”

“I thought getting shot took care of that,” Simon answers.

Mal chuckles. “You would think. But it’s actually getting the go se kicked out of you that does it.”

“Then you must be pretty...damn manly.”

“Must be.”

The rest of the walk to Simon’s bunk passes in silence, and by the time they get there Mal’s taking most of the doctor’s weight. The two of them barely fit in the cramped space.

“There ya go,” Mal grunts, easing Simon onto his bed.

Simon lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. “My bed never felt so good.” His words are slightly slurred, and Mal can tell he’s already falling asleep.

“You rest up,” he says. “You never know when one of us might need those steady hands of yours.” He’s leaving when Simon answers, his voice quiet.

“Thanks, Cap.”

Mal freezes. It’s the first time Simon has called him that.He smiles and turns around. He’s pretty sure the kid’s already sleep, but he replies anyway. “You’re welcome.”

xxx

#my writing #my fanfic #bad things happen bingo #coughing up blood #beat up #simon tam #malcolm reynolds #jayne cobb #firefly #firefly fic

22 notes · View notes

sfw-haikyuu-nsfw · 6 years

Text

Letting Go

This is kinda all over the place, sorry about that. There’s no specific timeline, each piece jumps in at various times throughout the relationship. And some are mundane but also important to the type of relationship we had, while others are bigger moments.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.

This is one of my first steps in putting it all behind me and trying to press forward.

They were in a nightmare.

There was no other explanation with the sudden and abrupt disjointing of their entire life.

Something had felt off all day; that Thursday. It began with excitement though, the birth of a child was to happen just hours later. The mother checked in at eight that morning. And the birth of that small, precious girl was supposed to be the focus of the day; that happy day.

But then Oikawa called, their hands full of paint as they answered. Maybe it was the tone of his voice or maybe it was the anxiety attacking again, but the air around them changed. A constricting band around their heart that wasn’t connected to any valid reason.

Everything was perfect; they had just told their mother so two days prior.

They wished someone had told them that it was otherwise. Apparently had been for nearly a month with their oblivious smile living blissfully through it all.

It was surreal to watch his car drive away, the remnants of an embrace that wasn’t tight enough and the lingering touch of his lips to the corner of their own. Left only with a note. His way of making up for whatever words he couldn’t force out in the moment.

You have been absolutely wonderful to me and it tears me apart to know I caused you so much pain, because you don’t deserve that.

Then stay; the answer seemed so easy to them. He should’ve stayed to prevent the very pain he caused.

I had to take a hard and honest look at myself and where I am emotionally and I realized that as much as I care about you, my heart is not in the same place.

And why realize that now?

Legs gave out beneath them, that paper clenched in their trembling hands and the grass scratched against their skin. Numb; everything around them felt like a numb abyss that opened underneath them.

You have been my best friend and are truly one of the most beautiful souls I have ever encountered and I am so grateful I met you.

And although I know this means I may lose our friendship and you may never want to talk to me again, I want you to know that if you ever need anything I will always be there for you.

You will always be a part of my soul.

Love, Oikawa

Yes, that extraordinary baby girl was born into a crumbling world.

Loud, pulsing, reverberating.

One could get lost in the crowd, lost in the music.

Bodies were too close, the air was too warm. But everyone moved in sync, their hearts beating in unison and their hands all reaching towards the same sky.

They only had one goal: to lose themselves within it all. To forget who they were for just a moment and be the person they always dreamed of being.

A touch - warm and soft - to their shoulder brought their gaze away from the dancing lights at the front. Eyes locked with milk chocolate ones, a smile accompanying them. He was beautiful - they noted instantly - within those flashing lights and they smile they returned was rightfully earned.

He was leaning forward, his lips touching lightly at their ear before he was speaking, voice working at being louder than the speakers around them.

“You’re insanely pretty,” the words were simple, effective, “can I give you a bracelet?”

Ah, the bracelets. Only that morning they had discovered the meaning and culture behind the very objects that covered his arms. The simple things sparking a contest between them and the two friends - Bokuto and Kuroo - they brought along with them. Who could obtain the most before the night was up, this was an immediate jackpop for them.

Smiles grew as they nodded, their hands rising to perform the simple ritual before their fingers laced for the trade. Touches traveled from their hand along their arm as he situated the bracelet in place, his gaze completely the journey along their skin until he was meeting with their eyes again.

It was their turn to lean, his hand ghosting above their waist. “Dance with me,” it was bold, a command they would never have given in a previous life. One that pays off when his hands find their hips. One that more than pays off when their bodies are too close for complete strangers. One that they would never regret when they find their mouth slotting together with his.

They lost themselves in that night, in the arms of that stranger by the name of Oikawa, in everything that would come from that single chance meeting.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” they found themselves mumbling again. Surely both boys were tired of hearing the comment. It was all they could say, though, without diving too deep into the underlying meanings, without breaking down again.

Bokuto’s fingers gently dug into their hair, carefully pressing into their scalp before dragging them through the strands. “Whether it makes sense or not, the dude’s a dick.”

A foot nudged against theirs and they raised their legs to allow Kuroo his place on the couch before dropping them across his lap. “Yeah, I mean, talk about a slap in the face,” he added, handing them the glass of red wine they had asked for.

“Feels more like a sledgehammer to the stomach,” they revised before taking a long drink.

There was nowhere for them to rip the reasons apart. Perhaps they were just as Oikawa said: he couldn’t emotionally provide the future he felt they deserved. But it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel complete.

Laying their head back down to Bokuto’s lap, they let out a heavy breath, finding comfort in the presence of her two best friends.

“Ya know, my brother is still single,” Kuroo teased, earning a laugh and a nudge to his stomach. It definitely helped to laugh.

A kiss. A press of warm hands to bare skin. A voice.

“Morning,” Oikawa whispered, his mouth to their shoulder, his arms pulling them back against his chest, “we have to get up.”

“You have to get up,” they countered, body folding into the warmth his provided. It was still dark, a fact that felt disgusting in just knowing it. “It’s too early,” they complained, shifting until they were facing him to shove their face against his chest and feel his fingers dig into their hair.

“You’re the one that wanted to come to work with me,” it was true. But the idea had sounded more appealing the night before. ‘Seizing the opportunity’ they had claimed when they suggested it. They spent so little time together as it was, they couldn’t pass up the opportunities given whenever possible.

“Skip work,” they breathed him in, body relaxing into him, “money is the devil anyway.”

Oikawa huffed a laugh, but didn’t fight it, his own body easing back into slumber. “Just a bit longer.”

And it would only be that bit before he was coaxing them from the blankets. The air cold in the early spring. Their body sought the heat he offered as they trudged to the bathroom together, a comment of ‘fix your windows’ leaving them as he started the water to the shower.

It was warm and his wet skin was comforting against their own. Head resting against his shoulder as they allowed the water spray to arouse their consciousness, their fingers dipping into the muscles of his back. He hummed, a sound that was surprisingly rare as he leaned into the touch.

“Thank you,” he breathed and they knew he didn’t just mean for that morning.

They stared at the screen of the computer. Their eyes taking in the detailed lines of the logo before them. Oikawa sat with them on his lap, waiting for their response. The logo was his own, one that would represent who he was as a designer. And he cared about their opinion, wanted them to critique it for him.

And while they might not have been the right one for the job, they took it seriously. Working hard to remember every conversation they had ever had about the art of graphic design, every complaint he had ever had about any other piece he’d shone them.

“I like the fingerprint,” they finally said, “it brings a personal touch to it without completely breaking away from the professionalism.” And while no one else would know, it was his own print incorporated into the design. “And it is round for a reason? Does the seventeen represent what year it was made?”

“No,” there was a slight hesitation as he spoke, considering, “making it round was just for aesthetic appeal. But I might try something square just to see. And I kinda threw the number in to balance it. Didn’t think anyone would question it.”

“Well, I’m questioning,” they responded as they leaned back against his chest, his arms taking their place around their waist.

He laughed, his nose pressing into their shoulder as his gaze stared hard at the design. “Good, then I’ve taught you well.”

They could tease that he more forced the information on them. He was nearly inconsolable whenever they came across anything that was ill-designed. Hands would rise and he’d groan before asking ‘but why?’ Smiles were always their response, their own eyes taking in the image they would normally take for granted as he listed every possible way it could’ve been made better.

He was always trying to make things better.

Alcohol hummed through their veins, making their head light as they sprawled across the surface of his bed. They were giddy and tired, body sunburnt and salt clung to their hair. A shower sounded refreshing, but above that they wanted him.

“Come ‘ere,” they coaxed when he shut the bedroom door behind him, their arms reaching out to him. He obliged instantly, never one to keep them waiting for long, fitting himself perfectly above them. Fingers traced through his hair and down his back, clinging to the fabric of his shirt lightly.

Lips found theirs, lulling easily into the pattern they were both familiar with since the first day they met. Each time feeling like the bliss they were always meant to find.

“Oh,” his lips parted from theirs as his eyes searched for his phone, “I forgot to text Iwa-chan about tomorrow.”

“Again?” they laughed, hands clinging to him as long as possible before he was entirely out of their reach. Despite being one that always needed a plan, Oikawa proved again and again that he was terrible at actually making them.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, his gaze remained on his phone, only giving them a small nudge for the tease. They shifted and stared; his back hunched slightly as his head bent to watch his fingers move across the surface. And it didn’t take much convincing from their tipsy brain to wedge themselves in his lap, ignoring the small ‘babe’ of complaint as they settled themselves.

Desperate lips found his and their hands pulled at the back of his neck, holding him tight against him. “All you’d have to do is ask,” the words were spilling out before they had time to really think about them, “and I’d marry you tomorrow.” They couldn’t remember what conjured them - a conversation they had earlier that beach day, surely - but they couldn’t stop them; maybe they didn’t want to.

“Babe,” there was a lilt to his voice, one that they had a hard time placing in their slightly intoxicated state - maybe regret? “I’m not ready for that.”

“When you are,” it was an easy answer despite the tears that pricked at their eyes “whenever you are.”

First times moved quick for them, they were finding. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. They didn’t know how to properly respond when he was peeling their jeans from their hips, his gaze drinking in the flesh exposed. Many thing were clear to them when he threw the article to the floor and traveled back up the mattress to kiss them greedily.

One: date number two might be too soon to be jumping into this kind of relationship. This wasn’t usual for them and the closer it got, the more they felt the panic ebbing at their heart.

Two: it could all end tomorrow. They had only known him three weeks at most and they didn’t exactly have the ‘what are your intentions’ talk. For all they knew, this could be what he was investing his time in and that would be it.

Three: they wanted it so fucking bad.

Oikawa’s breath shuddered against their neck, their hands dragging along the expanse of his back. Lust crowded any rational thought beyond that. So when his voice broke through the thick air to ask, “Can I? Is it okay?” they didn’t hesitate with their consent.

A gasp, a groan, and hips rutting together. It was awkward and messy, they were two people discovering each other for the first time, but they had never thought the act could feel this was before.

And they knew, they knew right then that this wasn’t meant to end. Two pieces of the same soul had finally come together.

“Hey,” Oikawa’s voice was soft when he opened the door, eyes already red.

“Hi,” they hoped he heard it, cause they weren’t sure if they could make their voice any louder.

A silence, one that had never been present between them before. It felt strange, unnatural and tainted. They desperately wanted to break it, but they didn’t know how. Didn’t know if they could.

“Are you okay?” again soft and they suddenly became aware of the space that was between them. It was wrong, it shouldn’t be there, it had no right separating them.

Damn the promise to themselves of staying composed. They couldn’t, not when everything was so thinly on the line, not when this was the last time they would see his face. “No,” their voice shook, but they didn’t care, “I’m not okay.” Teary eyes met with his, their jaw clenched and their posture stiff. “Because what you did was unfair and out of fucking nowhere.”

“I know,” they didn’t want him to agree. They wanted him to break, to cry and beg for them to take him back. “I know it was.”

The two talked, never closing that damn space between them and shorter than they would’ve liked. Tears fell and hands grasped for something they couldn’t hold onto anymore. They had gone there knowing they couldn’t change anything; he was too stubborn for that. But they had hoped for some clarity and they walked away unsure they had obtained it.

Because when you loved someone weren’t you supposed to hold on to them?

Anniversaries. A fresh couple coming into their first was the purest celebration of love that they had ever known. Though they knew it was only the first year mark, they felt as though they had known him their entire life. It was a mystery how they had gotten on before he came along.

“Presents now or on the actual date?” Oikawa questioned, his head resting in their lap upon the floor of his bedroom, his hands idly tugging at the few cords that strayed across the carpet.

“I don’t care,” they answered, “it’s up to you.” Gifts were nice but not their focus that weekend. They wanted to head out, marvel in the festival that brought them together and make love long after it's over.

He pondered this for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. “Now, yours might melt.”

“What?”

A laugh, but no more answer than that was given as he made his way out of the room. They shuffled in his absence, hands grabbing for the rectangular box they had wrapped only that morning. The gift itself was cheesy, really. A poorly made paper mache box - each image if lights, owls, and galaxy stars all a reminder of him - with a speaker and T-shirt tucked away inside.

In some ways they wondered if it was too much. In others they wondered if it wasn’t enough.

His return was accompanied with a box of his own. This one a perfect cube with a lid that pops off and a thick paper sticking from the top. “You first,” he insists and their hands reach out for the owl printed item, “pull the top.”

The grin was irrepressible, their fingers tugging at the top to pull more of the paper free, text written across it white letters.

For all those times spent kissing you, And all those times that I couldn’t. For the precious times spent with you, And those times spent apart. For every smile I’ve experienced, And those times I had to go without. For every happy tear that was shed, And those that fell with sorrow. For every day I heard you laugh, And the days only memory could serve. This is for all the wonderful moments spent with you, And the moments still yet to come! Here is 365 days worth of kisses… In case I missed one.

Water swam in their eyes, their smile to wide to contain. They barely caught the guidance to pull as they took in the length of words. “Huh?” they asked when they brought their eyes up to him.

“Pull,” Oikawa laughed, tapping the top of the box.

Taking hold of the edges, they tugged upward, the top freeing the sides of the box which fell under the weight of the mass amount of Hershey kisses it contained. They gaped, a surprised laugh coming from their lips. “What…?”

“Kisses,” he chuckled along with them, “365 of them!”

“You counted?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I believe you,” they leaned across the space between them in order to bring their mouths together.

“There’s more,” he spoke once they parted, fingers pointing to the barely revealed red heart shape box at the center.

Pulling it free from the chocolate avalanche, they opened it, eyes falling on the glittering silver and green bracelet within. They cooed, finger dipping in to run along the edge of the precious metal, eyes quickly catching sight of the note in the center: I love you.

“Why’d you make me go first?” they were instantly complaining, pulling on the piece of jewelry in order to admire it against their skin, “mine gift is shit compared to yours!” They both laughed, lips finding each other again.

“Doubt it,” he answered, tugging the wrapped box towards him, “if it’s anywhere as pretty as you I’ve already won.”

That box never left his bedside table since that day.

“Can I ask you a question?” Nerves buzzed underneath their skin and they silently wondered if Oikawa could feel their heart pounding against the side of his chest. They could hear his, after all, beating beneath their ear of his chest. It was the steady bu-bum that they tried to follow.

“Of course.”

Here goes nothing. “What do you think about maybe moving in together after I graduate?” It was a dream they’ve had for a long time now, but waiting for him to suggest it was taking too long for their liking. To build a future, they had to move forward together, they figured this would be the next step.

A pause, a shift in body as he turned away from the television to meet with their gaze. It was an important conversation, one that required his full attention and he wouldn’t deny them that. “I just…” he stopped, thinking. But they could already feel the cracks forming across their heart, “it’s always been a dream of mine to live on my own first, ya know?”

It was them that looked away, eyes resettling on the TV screen. “I know,” and they did. He had spent most of his post college life providing support to his mother. He deserved a space of his own for a change.

“Hey,” his fingers tapped at their chin, coaxing their gaze to him again, “it’s not that I don’t want to. There are just some personal goals that I think are important to fulfill.”

“Yeah,” tears were unpreventable now, their head dipping again before they were standing, back to him, “be right back.” They didn’t want him to see them cry over this, didn’t want him to think that they didn’t support his dreams or goals. But they felt that small break, felt the way those words stung under the surface.

Maybe if they had known then that it was never to be a dream of his some part of them could have been spared.

But they walked back into that room, fell into those comforting arms and accepted the small apologizes, the ‘I love you’s with an aching soul. And they drifted off to sleep that night with the fantasy that it would come one day.

The first weekend without him was empty. They didn’t entirely know what to do with themselves, didn’t know how to fall asleep without his body next to theirs, didn’t know how to go through their day without hoping every text on their phone was from him.

So they sat, textbook in hand, silently hoping that the new amount of free time would give them the chance to stop procrastinating - they would be wrong but at least they tried. Anything they could do to keep their mind busy enough not to think about him. They tried to pretend they didn’t care if he was eating or sleeping well or getting home at a decent hour from work. They tried so goddamn hard.

And he may never realize, but their world stopped that day he made his decision. It fell and tumbled and left a black void.

They tried to smile more, to pretend that the something better was coming. But it felt empty compared to everything they had gathered and lost. And they wanted to hate the fact they still loved him, wanted to hate that they still clung to hope that this wasn’t really the end.

But Oikawa had made the decision to move forward without them.

It was time they did too.

#it's long #my feelings out in the open #Oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #tooru #enjoy #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #HQ!!

57 notes · View notes

kor-knight · 7 years

Text

Dead with the Devil ch 8

LONGEST CHAPTER TO BOOT. Enjoy it. I’m thinking, maybe like. 2 more chapters left? Who knows.

Don’t hate me for the cliffhanger!

Ao3 Deal with the Devil chapter 8

“Elizabeth! Dinner is ready!”

Alice’s voice rang through the house, sending chills down Betty’s exposed back. Taking a deep breath and sparing one more glance in the body mirror, she cracked her door open a bit and shouted a quick “be there in a minute!” before promptly shutting the door and leaning back against it.

Tonight was prom – the prom. The one she wasn’t even going to attend, let alone fret over. But here she was, standing half naked in her bra and panties while she internally struggles about what dress she should wear.

On one hand there’s the pink one, pretty and safe by anyone’s standards. It was comfortable and easy to move in, great for the occasion on all accounts, and it made her feel confident.

But on the other hand, there was the daring black dress, strapless and silk, it hugged her curves so closely it left little to the imagination. It was completely irrational to even consider wearing that dress, considering she’d never even shown past her knees to the student body, let alone Jughead. But there was a tiny piece of her mind that was clinging to the idea, however preposterous it may seem, that Jughead might enjoy her wearing it.

Not that she should let that dictate what she wears, considering she would still have to head downstairs and convince her mother of letting her out later than curfew, but that was a battle to be won at a later time.

Sighing, Betty just shrugged her shoulders and reached for the pink dress, slipping it on easily as she sat at her vanity, applied a minimal amount of makeup and stood.

One more glance in the mirror before Betty took a deep breath, counted down from 10 and made her way downstairs.

“There you are! What took you so long-” Alice’s voice cut off, 3 pairs of eyes landing on Betty as she landed on the last step of the stairway. “Where do you think you’re going?” It wasn’t a question, not really anyway. Her voice was clipped, stance tall, hands on her hips. Betty knew better than anyone that this was an Alice Cooper specialty stance, dedicated for her mistakes or scolding small children at the conventions they went to.

Sighing, Betty stepped down onto the landing and reached for her shoes. Swiftly putting them on, she stands once more, clasping her hands together tightly behind her back. “Prom is tonight, and I was wondering if I could go.” She knew better than make it seem like a question, considering the time spent on the receiving end of Alice Cooper’s parenting style.

Her mother quirked a brow, fingers digging visibly deeper into her sides as she shifted feet. “Oh?” A few tense moments past by in an agonizingly slow pace before Alice spoke again. “With whom?”

Betty knew she should lie, come up with a reasonable male figure to spit off as her date of choice but her mind was coming up with blanks.

Kevin? No, the whole town knew he was gay. It was as scandalous as her little black dress to consider lying about him being her date.

Trev? He was a pretty chill kid, moved here a few months back. They had chemistry together and he was always smiling at her. But the “outsider” label stuck with him harshly, many older folks giving him hell for not being a “true Riverdale citizen”.

All the other “respectable” boys were either taken or opting out of attending, many of whom gave statements in the issue of the paper last week as to why. So with a final sigh, Betty gave in the her mothers scrutinizing glare and sunk her shoulders a bit.

“Jughead.” her voice was just above a whisper, mumbling to her toes.

“Speak up Betty, I didn’t raise a mouse.” Betty flinches at the sharp tone, stepping back a bit.

Inhaling deeply, she opens her mouth and exhales, looking up at her mother once more. “I’m going with Jughead.” She stated clearly, loud enough for her mother, father and sister to hear from where they sat at the table.

Alice’s features went to stone, mouth sitting in a thin line as she stayed silent. Her father looked up from his plate of food, eyes wide with disbelief, hand poised with a fork full of pasta before he dropped it back down to his plate with a clink.

“Excuse me?” His voice was deep, not nearly as cold as her mothers had been, but close. He opened his mouth again to say more but Alice swiftly placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“I’ll handle this dear.” Alice looked up at Betty’s still frame, eyes narrowing as she rounded the table. Polly opened her mouth, but a quick glance from Alice sent her eyes down to the plate in front of her, back now facing Betty. As Alice approached Betty, she fought the urge to retreat away. Standing tall and squaring her shoulders, Betty waited for her mother to blow up.

“Give me one completely relevant, good reason as to why I should let you go whore yourself around with that Jones boy tonight.” Hands on her hips once more, Alice stared down at Betty.

“Who said I was going to whore around?” Betty asked incredulously. “It’s a dance mother! You know, what normal people go to? To have FUN?!” She didn’t mean to shout, but this conversation was exhausting and she was going to be late to their meetup. Prior to tonight, Jughead had sat her down and talked out the details pertaining to “the night,” - whether Jughead was going to come pick her up at home, and risk a severe verbal onslaught by the infamous Alice Cooper, or to schedule a meet up place and time so they both survived the night. They opted for the latter and came up with the idea of meeting in front of the parking lot at the school by 8pm sharp. With a quick glance over her mothers shoulder, Betty caught sight of the clock that read 7:46pm and her eyes went wide.

“I will not just let you leave this house to go parading around town with that Southside trash, ruining my good reputation along with that of the Registers!” Alice’s face was slightly red, from anger or something else, Betty couldn’t tell. Hearing her mother call Jughead names sent a flare of white through her vision though.

Trying to cool her rising anger, Betty closed her eyes and counted down from ten in her head, clenching her fists together tightly. Once she reached one on her countdown, she inhaled and exhaled deeply, opening her eyes once more.

“I don’t honestly care what happens to your reputation, mother. But I’m going tonight. And don’t even try to stop me, got it? You want the whole town to know about your crazy daughter? The one with the panic disorders and depression?!” Her voice was raised once more, but this time it was in her control. Her green eyes never wavered as she stared down her mother, shoulders squared and hands at her sides. “I’ll be back later, don’t wait up.” She stated coolly, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

“Don’t come back here tonight, you hear?” Her mother’s voice rang out behind her, more emotion in those few words than the entire conversation beforehand.

As Betty walked down the stone pathway to the Cooper house, she turned and began walking backward, a wicked smile on her lips. “Who said I was even gonna be home tonight?” She winked at her mother before turning back around and heading down the sidewalk to the school, a faint music could be heard through the quiet streets.

“I’m going Jughead, with or without you.”

Archie’s voice still bounced around Jughead’s skull, eerily deeper than normal. He was pacing his room at the Whyte Worm, tie completely forgotten as he wondered what he should do.

Tonight was Prom. He was supposed to go meet up with Betty and have a good time. He even bought a tie for gods sake!

But low and behold, Archie decided it was going to be a fantastic idea to tag along with a deal tonight. A fucking deal. One so incredibly similar to that of the one where they lost a brother in arms. Jughead’s heart was hammering in his chest as he thought back to that dreaded night. The gunshots, the screaming, the blood, the smell of burning flesh. He remembered everything, and it haunted him everyday. They shouldn’t have been there that night either, but Jughead insisted they get a front row seat at this part of the business, since they were to inherit the whole thing when they came of age.

But after that night, Jughead swore that this had to stop.

Too many Serpents died at the hands of possible buyers during gun sales. Many of whom Jughead grew up with or learned from. He spent hours arguing with his father, FP Jones, the leader of the gang, over whether they should stop the deals now or wait till Jughead takes over.

And from his knowledge, FP told the other elders there were to be a minimal amount of trades to be had in the coming years, to avoid dwindling numbers and the idea of recruiting new members.

But someone scheduled this deal, and Jughead couldn’t tell what pissed him off more – the fact that someone was going behind his back, or that Archie was stupid enough to try and attend this thing. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and head out the door, down the hall and quickly opened the door of his fathers room.

FP looked up at Jughead as he entered, feet up on the desk in front of him. “What’s up Jug?” He quirked a brow, waiting.

“Who’s scheduling deals again?” He figured it would be easier to get straight to the point, his dad never liked the idea of beating around the bush either. And from the reaction of his father, Jughead knew it wasn’t in his knowledge that a deal was being made either.

His feet flew off the table in an instant. “What did you just say?”

Jughead shifted his weight, crossing his arms. “Someone is making deals again dad. And Archie is there!”

“What the hell is he thinking?” It wasn’t a question directed at Jughead in particular, but he still shrugged his shoulder as a response. FP flung his leather jacket over his arms quickly as he strode past his son. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. Ah ah-” He reached a hand out to stop Jughead in his tracks. “Let me deal with the elders, you go get that dumbass out of there before he gets hurt, got it?” Jughead sighed, contemplating an argument before sighing with defeat and nodding. His dad clapped a hand on his shoulder, nodding. “Good luck.”

Jughead raced down the stairway to the main entrance of the Whyte Worm, bolting past the double doors instantly. As he rounded the corner, he was nearly clothes-lined by an arm leaning against the outside wall. Skidding to a halt, he opened his mouth to yell at the guy to move before realizing the arm belonged to a woman.

A dark haired woman, clad in a tight black dress and nasty looking heels turned to face him, a sly grin across her lips. “Hey handsome, forget something?” She quirked a brow and jutted her chin to his untied tie that lay around his neck, completely forgotten to Jughead.

“Sabrina, I don’t have time for this. Please just go away.” He tried to bolt past her, hoping to find a trail to where Archie’s infamous deal was being held, but her body appeared in front of his view before he could move an inch.

“Why can’t we play like before?” She purred, a hand tracing his collar bone with ease. “We had a lot of fun together, don’t you remember?”

He pulled away from her hands, taking a full step back. “Look, I said this once and I’ll say it again. We’re done. Nothing more between us. So please just move.” He tried to step around her again, but she swiftly cut his trail off once more.

“Come on Juggie,” the nickname only Betty called him rolled off her tongue with ease, sending shivers down his spine. “Play with me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, not caring what happened anymore. Without a second thought, Jughead placed a hand on either side of her, a grin plastered on his face as he stepped forward.

Then pushed her to the side and walked past.

“What the hell?!”

“I told you Bri, I don’t have time to play right now.” He called over his shoulder.

Her next words halted his feet in their tracks though. “I can tell you where Archie is.” He spared a glance over his shoulder, eyeing her closely.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” He inquired, stance sideways in an attempt to make this conversation go by quickly.

She smiled at him once more, waltzing forward. “Cause the deal was set up through my father, duh.”

Jughead deadpanned, anger boiling in his veins quickly.

She piped up again, hand reaching out to land on his shoulder. “But before you get mad, yes, I remember that night. No I’m not trying to get anyone killed, but we’re having trouble, and the Serpents are the only gang in town still running guns.” He shrugged off her hand, putting another few feet between them. “And before you get even more brooding, I know all the details. But I didn’t know Archie was going to go. I made my dad swear there was to be no violence.”

Scoffing, Jughead turned his back to her. “We’ll see about that.”

Sighing, Sabrina sauntered past him, coming to stand beside her car. “Let’s go save the day Batman.”

Betty inhaled sharply, hands running up and down her arms to try and warm them from the chilly wind. It wasn’t a cold night, but she definitely should’ve worn a jacket or something, But she left the house in such a rush, the idea had slipped her mind completely.

Looking around once more, Betty sighed into her hands, tapping her foot on the ground below. She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, but her fingers were too stiff to find her phone right now.

“He’s probably just running late,” she murmured to herself, letting out another wisp of breath into her palms.

“Or he stood you up.” A voice erupted behind her, deep and familiar. Betty turned and came face to face with Chuck Clayton, all star football player, team captain, and resident “good boy” among the masses. Sighing, Betty just turned back around, choosing to take the higher ground and ignore him. “You know, when I heard that the Jughead Jones had made such a fool of himself in front of the school just to ask you, Betty Cooper, out to prom. I was a bit taken aback. You see, I’ve always seen Jughead as a rival, in both women and school.” His voice was directly behind her, sending shivers down her spine that weren’t from the cold. “And when they told me he asked you to prom, I thought everyone was playing. You know, ‘the jokes on Chuck, we got you!’ sorta thing. But then I saw the video Reg took, and I just couldn’t stomach it.” His hand was on her shoulder then, sending warmth through her body at the contact, even though she didn’t want it to. He leaned down to whisper in her ear behind her, the proximity of his lips sending another wave of shivers down her spine.

“Then I found out it was all a bet. And the world makes sense again.”

The words froze her muscles, sent wave after wave of nausea through her stomach, and her heart began to hammer against her ribs. “What?” She squeaked out, voice a whisper compared to his.

“I said, “he spoke a little louder, a group forming around them now as he egged her on, “that the only reason Jughead Jones asked you to prom, Betty Cooper, was because he was in it for money.” A wicked grin crossed his face as her breathing began to speed up. “No one in their right mind would ever ask you to prom for any other reason.” His voice was cutting deep, a vicious onslaught of pain against her heart with each flick of his tongue.

“You’re wrong.” She pleaded, hands in tight fists at her sides. “Jughead is different.”

Chuck laughed then, a hearty laugh that had little emotion in it. “You’re right, Jughead is different. He only asked for $100. Anyone with a brain would’ve asked for triple that to put up with your boring ass for the night, especially since you won’t put out as well.”

Betty’s heart hammered painfully in her chest, her vision began to blur as unwanted tears threatened to spill over. She wasn’t going to cry, not in front of this crowd, or Chuck Clayton of all people.

“Aw, are you gonna cry?” Chuck cooed, laughter spread across the crowd of their peers.

Betty failed to keep her breathing under control, fingers clenching and unclenching in fists at her sides. Her vision was blurry and only getting worse, ears felt like water was in them. Without another word, Betty turned around and stormed off, ignoring the cat calls and Chuck’s voice from behind. She just needed to get away. Quickly finding her phone, Betty turned it on, the bright screen cutting through the blurriness with ease.

9:16pm

The time blinked begrudgingly at her, as if too mocking her shitty decision of a night. Sighing, Betty head in no particular direction, but only trying to get away from the looming music and crowd of people behind her.

Sabrina drove down an abandoned road, the gravel crunching soundly before the tires as they made their way to the deal location. She had tried to keep up a conversation with him during the ride, but Jughead would have no part. Just stared out the window and let his mind wander.

Why was Archie doing this?

Who was setting this deal up on the Serpents end of it?

A million questions swam through his brain as Sabrina tried and failed to keep getting him to talk. Finally the car halted, and Jughead was jerked out of his mind with a start.

Blinking, he looked around. But since they were seemingly in the middle of nowhere, he had no real idea what was around them. But off to the left were a few parked cars, some nicer than others. At the very end was Fred’s – Archie’s dad – old truck, and Jughead sighed with a bit of relief.

“I told you I knew where he was.” Sabrina’s voice broke him out of his temporary reverie. Shaking his head, he reached for the handle to open the passenger door when a loud bang resonated clearly through the calm night.

Shooting a quick glance at Sabrina, Jughead threw the door open quickly. “You said there was no violence!” He shouted at her before closing the door.

“I thought that too!” She squeaked out, shutting the ignition off before bolting out of the car to follow.

Jughead took off before she got fully out of the car, heading in the direction of the sound with ease. Panic rose high in his chest as a barrage of unwanted thoughts surfaced. A million different pictures ran through his mind from the night where Caleb was shot, his blood on Jughead’s hands as she took his last breath. Shaking his head, he picked up the pace before erupting in a clearing slightly illuminated by a few torches and solar lights.

A few guys stood around, looking tense and poised with pistols in hand. They quickly shifted their attention to Jughead once he was clear in the opening. Throwing his hands up high, he halted his tracks instantly.

“I’m unarmed, I swear.” He blurted out quickly, to no one in particular. When the guns trained on him turned back to their original target, Jughead took a deep breath and exhaled in relief.

Then he turned to see what the guns were trained on.

A few feet away were a few Serpents, guns trained on the guys across the clearing. Most had Kevlar vests under their jackets, but Jughead assumed only he knew that due to experience. His eyes looked them over, one at a time, making sure none were injured. The 4 closest to him were seemingly fine, so he sighed with relief before slowly walking over behind them. Archie stood at the end of the line, guarding the cache crate of automatic weapons with timid force. He didn’t look over at Jughead’s approaching figure, just tightened his grip on the hilt of the gun in his hand, eyes narrowing.

“Now where were we?” A guy from across the way called out, quirking a brow.

“We were just about to leave, since we can’t seem to come to an understanding.” Cobra called out from the line of Serpents in front of Jughead. He was a second generation, like Jughead, but much older and less friendly. He also wasn’t in line of taking an elder seat anytime soon, so Jughead assumed he was the one in charge of this undermining deal.

“I don’t really like that plan.” The man across the way retorted, cracking the bone in his neck so loud even Jughead heard it. He flinched at the sound, so eerily similar to a gunshot he had to hold himself from ducking.

“Well we don’t like getting surprised, so it seems we’re both in the rough tonight.” Cobra called back, jerking his head to the side at Jughead. Nodding in understanding, he made his was quickly to the crate and placed his hand on the strap.

“I wouldn’t do that son.” Another voice came from across the opening, making Jughead flinch from the crate.

“He can do what he is told.” Archie retorted, voice so deep even Jughead had to strain to realize it was his. Taking the signal, he reached for the handle once more.

Then the shrill BANG of a gunshot split Jughead’s eardrums in pieces as he fell to the ground, failing to regain his composure quickly. A flurry of gunshots echoed through his ears, but the sound felt like it was traveling through water. With the noise nullified, Jughead tried to sit up once more. Finally managing to get on his hands and knees, he surveyed the area.

A few Serpents stood, still shooting at the remnants of the other guys. One Serpent lay clutching his arm, blood spilling down his fingers quickly.

Then Jughead’s eyes landed on the crumpled frame of someone so familiar, so close to home, he had to cover his mouth to stop from screaming at the top of his lungs.

A few feet away lay Archie, limbs unmoving as blood slowly began to spill around him. “No, no!” Jughead cried out, racing over to his friend quickly. Pulling him over, Jughead noticed the wound quickly. It was at his collar bone, a few inches from where his vest protected him.

“I’m sorry.” Archie spit out, blood spewing from his pale lips as he spoke.

“No, don’t worry. We’ll get you help, ok?” He quickly looked up and called for backup. Archie nodded slightly, eyes slowly closing. “No, hey. Look at me.” Jughead called out, shaking Archie slightly. “Talk to me man, you gotta stay awake. Tell me about Veronica, ok?”

Archie opened his eyes again, coughing slightly before smiling. “She’s great. Real pretty.” Jughead nodded, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the approaching car. Archie’s hand came to lightly tap on his shoulder, pulling his attention back. “Tell her I’m sorry..” Then Archie’s eyes slowly began to close, hand falling to his side.

“ARCHIE!”

#bughead #riverdale #jughead jones #betty cooper #archie andrews #riverdale au #bughead fanfic #betty and jughead #jetty #betty x jughead #prom #school #southside serpents #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction

31 notes · View notes