#but my country is a fucking shithole and I can’t wait until I can get the fuck out of here

[devilat-thedoor]

What Is and What Should Never Be Ch. 1

A/N: The parts in this fic are going to be on the shorter side compared to my other one, but that allows me to get them out quicker. This first chapter is really just laying the foundation for the story. I hope you enjoy, babes! and as always, feedback is appreciated🤍 P.S. This is all fictional, straight from my imagination. Please don't take it too seriously💖

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut(none yet, but for future reference), Mentions of alcoholism/addiction, Mentions of death. Reader Discretion Advised.

So if you wake up with the sunrise and all your dreams are still as new // And happiness is what you need so bad, well girl, the answer lies with you

“Bell, are we really doing this?” Your grin was beaming as you twisted the key in the ignition, hearing the engine rumble. You rolled the windows down, letting the late March wind breeze through the car.

Your best friend, Bellamy, turned to you from her spot in the passenger seat, “I mean, unless you want to carry all of our stuff back into that shithole…” She jutted her thumb out the window, towards the shabby apartment building that, up until 15 minutes ago, you had called home. “Then we are absolutely doing this!” You laughed, pulling away from the curb as she hung half of her body out the car to shout a goodbye to your hometown. “We’re fucking out of here! See you later, Phil!” Bellamy had her middle fingers in the air as the wind swept through her jet black hair.

Reaching over, you grabbed her shirt to yank her back in the window, “Bellamy, the groundhog can’t hear you!” Your hand went back to the steering wheel as she settled back into her seat and kicked her feet up on the dashboard. “Don’t get too comfortable, you’re not gonna fall asleep on me 20 minutes into the drive.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a lazy smile, “Fall asleep on you, sweet pea? Never.” She grabbed the aux cord, plugging it into her phone. “Why did we decide to drive again? We could’ve left everything to the moving company and just booked a flight… This is gonna take for-ev-er.” She flicked her sunglasses down over her eyes with a whine.

“Bell, how often are we gonna get to road trip across the country? Think of all the places we’ll get to see!” You tried to sound as positive as you could but, truth be told, you weren’t very excited about the drive either. The speakers came to life when she finally decided on a playlist, opening with House of the Rising Sun by The Animals. “Once we’re on I-80, the drive will go so fast, babe.”

She dropped her feet back to the floor, turning to face you again, “Whatever you say, Y/N.” Digging into the grocery bag full of snacks below her, she grabbed a pack of gummy bears and ripped them open, “God, I just can’t wait to be out of here and in the sun… And our new apartment?” Bellamy curled her legs up into her seat, turning to face you, “Are you okay with me taking the Master bedroom? I really want the en suite bathroom.”

You glanced over to see her pouting her lip at you, “You can have whatever room you want.” Looking back to the road, you turned the music down a bit, “If you told me I had to sleep in a tent on the balcony, I would do it.” It sounded like a joke, but you were partially serious.

“You know you’d be sharing my bed if there was no other place for you, Y/N.” She gave you a pointed look and slouched back into her seat. “We would just need a kind of ‘sock on the door’ signal, yanno?”

Craning your neck to look behind you, you slowly merged onto the interstate, “When has a signal ever worked before, Bellamy?” It was early enough in the morning that traffic was mostly clear, allowing you to set the cruise control to an even 70mph. “Remember Seth? The guy I met at sophomore year IUPatty’s? I left the shamrock beads on the doorknob and that didn’t stop you from barging into the dorm!”

She held her hands up, “In my defense, there were beads scattered through the hallway. How was I supposed to know you put them there intentionally?” Her shoulders raised in a shrug as she remembered back, “And I saved you! Your fake moans weren’t even believable, you weren’t getting off!”

You broke out into a cackle, “Oh my god, Bell! Fuck, you’re actually right.” She stuck her tongue out at you, “He was so hot, but had no rhythm at all… it was just anticlimactic. No pun intended.” You were both in a fit of laughter when your friend popped up in her seat.

“Babe, turn it up!” Bellamy yelled over the wind whipping through the windows as Rocky Mountain Way by Joe Walsh began playing. “It’s our song!”

You reached for the volume dial with a grin, cranking it up as you both started singing along. “…Out to pasture, think it’s safe to say, time to open fiiiire…” You held your closed fist to your mouth, using it as a makeshift microphone, “And we don’t need the ladies crying cause the story’s sad…” 

Holding your invisible microphone out to your friend, she sang the next few lines into it “‘Cause the rocky mountain way is better than the way we had…” The two of you went back and forth, singing loudly through your giggling. You listened as Bellamy vocalized the entire solo at the end of the song, finishing with a deep inhale to catch her breath.

The next song came on as you both settled down and you just drove in a comfortable silence for a while. You stopped for food and gas while passing through Toledo and continued on, only stopping again once you were right outside of Chicago. “I’m sick of driving, Bellamy. It’s your turn.” You whined at her as you pulled the car into a gas station.

“I’ve got maybe five or six hours in me.” She pushed her door open, grabbing her wallet from her bag to head into the gas station, “I do not want to be in the car anymore, so let’s plan on stopping in Des Moines… If traffic stays clear, we should make it by at least eleven. Midnight at the latest.” You followed her into the convenience store, listening to her lay out the plans. “When we get back in the car, look for a motel or something cheap we can stay in for tonight and then we’ll get back on the road early tomorrow.”

You both headed to the restroom to relieve yourselves before grabbing a few energy drinks and bottles of water and paying for your gas. “Sounds good, babe.” After filling the tank, you climbed into the passenger seat while your friend got behind the wheel and began browsing for a place to rest.

“Hey, Bell…” You’d been back on the road for another two hours, going back between music and podcasts, when you turned to her.

She glanced at you with a soft smile, “Yes, sweet pea?”

You were toying with your fingers in your lap, “I haven’t actually said it yet, but thank you.” She gave you a questioning look, prompting you to elaborate, “For bringing me along with you… to San Francisco. I will never be able to make this up to you.” You wanted to make sure she knew how genuinely grateful you were. All you’ve dreamed of, since you were 15, was getting out of your hometown and escaping the living hell that was your life. You thought that the day you turned 18, you’d pack up and leave to head for the west coast, get as far away as you could to avoid the chance of ending up like your mother. But after graduation and without money, your only option to get out of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania was going to college. Bellamy made you apply to IUP with her and when you both got in, it seemed like things wouldn’t be so bad anymore. Even though the university was only about 40 minutes from your hometown, it was far enough away that you didn’t have to deal with the stress of living with your parents anymore. Your dad was always amazing. He taught you everything you knew, from how to cook to how to change your own brakes and oil. All he ever wanted was to make sure you were capable of taking care of yourself when the time came for you to be on your own and that time came a lot sooner than either of you could have anticipated.

It was your junior year in college and you were so close to getting your Bachelor’s in Anthropology. Your classes kept you busy enough that you didn’t have time for partying or getting into trouble. All of your focus went into your school work in the hopes that once you finished, you would find a great job in doing something you loved and make enough money to go wherever you wanted. But the perfect bubble you’d put yourself in popped that November when you went home for Thanksgiving break.

Your mother’s alcohol addiction wasn’t anything new to you. You would come home from middle school to find her passed out on the sofa, empty bottle littering the coffee table. Some nights she would come into your room to crawl in bed with you, crying that she wanted to be better and that she was going to try to stop drinking. You would let her hold you and cry until your dad would come in and gently walk her back to their bedroom. The smell of her vodka soaked breath is something that would surely stick with you for the rest of your life. Dad would try his hardest to hide how bad her problem really was, but you knew. It started to get worse when you got into high school. She would get drunk and belligerent, screaming and breaking things. You’d gotten accustomed to staying at Bellamy’s. Her father and yours were best friends and that’s how you and Bell ended up as close as you were. On the nights your mother was particularly bad, Bell’s dad, Mr. Cole, would get a call from your dad and within minutes, you would be climbing into the backseat of his car with your best friend to stay with her family for a couple of nights. You begged your dad to leave her, to just let her drink herself rotten and move you and him some place far away where she couldn’t affect you anymore, but he refused. Always telling you that she needed the both of you to get her through it, that she didn’t have the strength to stop drinking on her own. Part of you knew that he didn’t even believe that himself, but you looked up to him more than anybody and trusted that he knew what was best. Still, you couldn’t stand to live in the same house as her, so when you got accepted to the same college as Bellamy, it was like life was finally giving you a break.

Then that Thanksgiving day came crashing down and everything else went with it. You and Bellamy made the short drive home the day before and you dropped her off at her house before heading to yours. Your dad was at the door, waiting to greet you as you pulled in and he rushed out to wrap you in a bear hug and help you with your belongings. You were dreading the kind of state you would find your mom in, but to your surprise, she seemed sober and completely normal. She pulled you into an embrace and you could still smell the faint hint of liquor on her, but her behavior had you fooled into thinking it was just your imagination. You were having a good time, helping her prep the apple pie so it would be ready to bake for the holiday while listening to music. She asked you how your classes were going and she seemed genuinely interested as you explained your course load to her. It was a welcome change to how conversations normally went with her.

 As the day dwindled to early evening, you started to see a change in her. She was getting sloppy and she stumbled through the house and you noticed her eyes starting to droop, but it wasn’t until she started throwing a fit about not having enough wine for the guests that you’d be having over for Thanksgiving that you realized she must have been sneaking drinks throughout the night. You watched as your dad tried to reason with her and calm her down, but she just kept yelling, throwing things around the kitchen until he finally gave in and offered to drive her to the store so they could pick up a few more bottles. You pleaded with him to stay, trying to convince him that he was only enabling her addiction by catering to her temper tantrums, but he brushed you off, wrapping you in hi arms and placing a firm kiss to the top of your head before grabbing his jacket and ushering your mother out the door. You didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time you would ever hug your father. After they started the drive into town, in a drunken fit of anger, your mom would lash out and begin hitting your dad, causing him to run off of the road and into the woods. He was pronounced DOA by the first responders and she would walk away from it without a scratch. Nobody knew that it was her fault, but after his funeral, when she was already half a bottle deep, she confessed it to you. You left her alone that night and never looked back and she ended up moving south to live with family. You couldn’t forgive her and if you never saw her another day in your life, it would still be too soon.

The depression you fell into forced you to drop out of college. You moved back to your hometown and got a job at the local diner, Punxsy Phil’s, to pay rent. Bellamy moved back with you and spent her last year and half commuting to school before graduating with her Bachelor’s in Computer Science. Now, two years later at 26, Bell was offered a job at a tech company. They were based out of Silicon Valley but they wanted her to head a team in their San Francisco office. When they offered to pay for her housing for a year until she got her footing, she sweet talked them into a two bedroom apartment and asked you to go with her. Of course you jumped at the opportunity and now here you were, driving across the country to start your new life and it was all thanks to your best and oldest friend.

“Y/N, I wouldn’t have even thought about taking this job if there wasn’t a chance that you could come with me.” She reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly, “I know how hard the past few years have been, but we’re starting a new chapter and it’s us, babe. It’s always been you and me.” A grin formed on her face as she put her hand back on the steering wheel, “We’re gonna fucking rule San Fransisco like Christina and Courtney in The Sweetest Thing.” She paused before adding, “But promise me you won’t fall in love with a guy you just met overnight!”

You leaned over the center console, hugging her tightly and planting a giant peck on her cheek, “I fucking love you, Bell.” You were both laughing as she pushed you away.

“I love you more, sweet pea.”

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It was early Sunday morning when you finally pulled into the parking lot or your new apartment building in the Mission Bay neighborhood. It stood maybe six stories high and each apartment had its own balcony. You and Bellamy were on the third floor, number 308, and she held the keys in her fist as you both stepped out of the car. The excitement couldn’t be contained as you made it up the elevator and she unlocked the door, pushing through it to see your new home in person for the first time. Stepping into the apartment, you both rushed around, exploring the living space. It was quaint and small, but it was perfect for the two of you. You each had your own bathroom and the bedrooms were a decent size. The sliding door that led out to the balcony caught your attention at the same time as her and you were running to slide it open and see the view of the city. “Bell, is this even real?” You gazed out in awe, seeing all the buildings and businesses that surrounded. You couldn’t wait to see what it looked like at nighttime with the city lights. Just as your friend went to answer you, there was a knock on the apartment door that was left wide open and you turned to see the movers standing there. You both looked at one another with large smiles, “Let’s turn this place into home, B.”

“I think it’ll look better against that wall.” Bellamy placed her hand on the man’s arm, pointing to the opposite side of the living room. “Could you just move it one more time?” You bit your lips together, trying to stifle a laugh as she batted her lashes at him. The movers made it to your new home right after you had and your best friend was quick to put them to work. You stood back, allowing her to give directions with flirty giggles, directing the men where to put everything.

Finding it best to stay out of her way, you decided to occupy yourself with something else, “Hey, hun!” You called across the room to Bellamy, “I’m gonna start unpacking the kitchen.” She gave you a thumbs up without breaking concentration on the movers. Walking into the tiny kitchen, you pulled open the first box you saw to reveal all of your plates and bowls, wrapped in old newspapers. You decided on a cabinet and began stacking the dishes, one by one, discarding the papers into the empty box as you went. Next was the cups and mugs then tupperware and pots and pans. After a little over an hour, you had the kitchen completely unpacked with everything in its rightful place.

As you stood in the middle of the space breaking down all of the boxes, your friend came through the doorway, “Everything is officially moved in.” You watched as she padded to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water. She shook a bottle in the air, silently asking if you wanted one, and tossed it after you gave a nod, “And, courtesy of those three very sweet men, the living room is already assembled.” Bellamy gave a proud smile as she cracked open her bottle. “We just have to fill the bookshelf and hang some art on the walls or something.” She shrugged, taking a large gulp of water.

You took a few chugs of your own and checked the time on your phone, pausing the music that was playing. “It’s only 1 o’clock, we’re making pretty good time. You wanna go find lunch somewhere?” Bellamy’s phone began ringing as she nodded her head and you watched her walk back into the living to retrieve it. After a minute you left the kitchen as well, going into your bedroom to find a change of clothes in the mountain of boxes. The apartment already came with beds and bedroom furniture and you dug through one box, pulling out the new sheets and comforter that you’d purchased and tossed them on the mattress.

“Soooo…” Bellamy startled you as she popped her head in the door frame, “Don’t hate me…” She gave an apologetic look.

You dropped the clothes you were holding to the bed and let out a sigh, “We’re not getting lunch, are we?” 

She came into the room, cupping your face with a pout, “I’m sorry, Y/N! Please don’t be mad.” You pulled out of her hold, rolling your eyes, “That was my new boss that just called and he wants me to go down to headquarters to meet everyone.”

You weren’t mad, you knew how important this job was to her, “It’s fine, Bell. Take my keys, they’re on the kitchen counter.” You pointed out the door.

A high pitched squeal left her mouth and she wrapped you in an incredibly tight hug, “I’ll make this up to you, I swear!” She went to her own bedroom to change clothes and you decided you would still go out and get food, but you would also take the time to look at who may be hiring in the area. You pulled on a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a black baby tee that read ‘farm fresh peaches’ with two of the bright fruits printed over the chest. Once satisfied with your outfit, you dug through your laptop case to pull out a copy of your resumé and a separate sheet of paper with a solid list of references, and tucked them into your bag just as Bellamy came back to your doorway, “I love you and I’ll be back soon!”

“Leave me your keys, Bell!” You called as she disappeared back out into the apartment, “I’m gonna go explore the neighborhood a little bit and you’ll have my keys, so leave yours for me.” She nodded, digging her key ring from her purse and dropping them on the counter.

Ten minutes later, you were locking up and riding the elevator to the ground floor. You stepped out on the street, looking left and right to decide which direction you wanted to go in. Opting for the left, you started on your journey, unsure of where you might end up, with a goal of finding lunch in mind. You’d lost count of how many blocks you walked when you landed on Market Street. The entire length of it was lined with stores and bars and restaurants, it was unlike anything you’d see back home. Sure, Pittsburgh was a great city to visit, but it didn’t compare to this in your eyes. You scoped out a few different food spots as you walked along the sidewalk, Some with potential to eat at, others with potential for work, but you continued on, lost in the bustle of everything going on around you until something caught your eye. A bright, neon open sign shined bright in a storefront window and illuminated the ‘Now Hiring’ sign to its right. It was a piece of paper that looked like someone just scribbled the note on with thick, black sharpie, and taped it to the window as a joke. Your gaze traveled up to the hanging sign above the door, Highway Tunes Records, before dropping back to the windows and seeing the art and posters adorning the walls inside. Your eyes fell upon a psychedelic poster, made up of colorful and abstract swirls that came together to unmistakably make Jimi Hendrix. An audible gasp escaped and you found yourself pulling the door open and shuffling inside the store and straight over to the poster. You were entranced as you stared up at it, unable to tear your eyes away until a voice stole your attention.

“You a Hendrix fan?” Turning to find whoever the voice came from, you were met with a gleaming set of teeth, stretched into a mesmerizing grin, with the tiniest gap between the front two.

You returned his smile, murmuring a response once you realized you’d been staring at him, “Uh… Yeah. He was my dad’s favorite musician.” You glanced back up at the framed poster as he replied.

He was standing incredibly close, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, “Well, he is great… So!” His exclamation made you jump and he laughed, “Sorry, it’s been a slow day and you’re probably our fifth customer since opening at noon.” You looked down at your phone to check the time, 2:49pm, and gave him a sympathetic smile. You knew how boring a slow day at work could be. “Anyways… What brings you into HIghway Tunes? Looking for a specific album?”

 “Actually, that is what brought me in here.” You pointed up to the Jimi poster, “It felt like it was calling me in.” You shook your head, aware of how weird that sounded, but before you could try to reword it, the man was already talking.

“Oh. Well, unfortunately, I can’t sell you that specific piece.” He let out a huff, turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. Your brow furrowed as you watched him go and he turned around, gesturing for you to follow him, “That one is part of Jake’s personal collection.” He started after you fell into step behind him, “He’d kill me if I sold it and then he’d hunt you down and kill you too… But these…” He stopped in front of a giant bin, filled with rolled up posters, and flipped open the binder above it, “These are all on the market.”

You watched as he thumbed the pages, looking over the inventory of music posters. You couldn’t help but stare at him. Full lips, bordered by a tasteful bit of facial hair. A wild mess of curls that covered his forehead and ears, only leaving the small, silver hoops piercing his lobes to stick out. He had a constant smile on his face and you almost didn’t want to open your mouth out of fear that it would go away, “I’m not… really looking to buy anything.” You watched the grin falter, but he quickly recovered it, “I’m sorry. I just don’t have the spare money right now to spend on things that aren’t necessities.” You scrunched your nose with a shrug.

He turned to face you, looking you up and down as if he was sizing you up, “You’re not from around here.” Suddenly feeling self conscious, you crossed your arms over your chest, looking away from him, “Hey, no. I didn’t mean any offense… Just that the only people who come in here are either regulars or tourists and you’re certainly not a regular.”

“How do you know I’m not a regular?” You gave him a pointed look as you pursed your lips. “Maybe you just always miss me when I come in?”

“Naah. Nobody comes in here without me or Jakey seeing them and I would not forget you.” He slapped his palm over his face whilst shaking his head, “Sorry, that… That sounded creepy. I just meant… never mind.” A bright blush started to overtake his cheeks.

He was so charming and handsome, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from your mouth and if Bellamy were there, she’d accuse you of flirting. “Okay, I did just move here, but tell you what… As soon as I get a job, I promise to become a regular.” You flashed him a sweet smile before turning around and heading for the door, “Don’t forget my face.”

“Woah, wait!” He called after you and you stopped to face him again, a questioning lift to your brows, as he jogged the short distance across the store, “You need a job? We’re hiring.” He sounded desperate as he continued, “The pay is good, I swear. You’ll get great hours and everyone here is chill!”

You looked around at the shop, really taking in the eccentric environment. His smile alone was enticing you to say yes and you couldn’t fight against it, “So… is this an official interview?” You joked and saw his shoulders visibly relax.

He looked around the store as though he was searching for something, “Actually, let me find Jake. We might be able to interview you right now.” He went in the opposite direction from you, giving you no time to decline before heading for the checkout counter, but he stopped, “I’m Josh, by the way!” He yelled from where he stood

You called out to him, still planted by the front door, “I’m Y/N!” His smile seemed to grow brighter as he repeated your name back to you.

Just as he was about to push through the door behind the counter, it flung open to reveal another man behind it, “What’s with all the fucking yelling?” From where you stood, it looked like he was gritting his teeth at Josh. His hair was long, landing past his shoulders, and he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. He peered over Josh’s shoulder to get a look at you and you saw his lips moving before the curly headed boy turned and waved you towards them.

You swallowed your nerves and began shuffling towards them. Your eyes drifted to the ceiling to see it plastered with vinyls, all painted over with intricate and colorful artwork. As you stepped up to the counter, your eyes fell on the men, “This place is a lot like Trax.” They both gave you strange looks, prompting you to clarify, “The record store from Pretty In Pink? With Molly Ringwald?” The confusion didn’t leave their faces as you stared at them, “Seriously? That’s like, my favorite movie. It’s an iconic John Hughes masterpiece! The scene when Duckie sings Otis Redding?” You continued to gush despite how clueless they clearly were.

Josh’s face lit up into a grin as he listened to you, but the other guy remained stoic, almost like he was bored, “Well it’s a good thing you don’t need to know movies to work in a music store.” You couldn’t help the look of shock on your face at his pompous tone.

But you were never one to let a man make you feel small, “No, you’re right, but… if I’m not mistaken, there’s an entire shelf over there,” You pointed to your left with a cocky smile, “that is loaded with movie soundtracks… And if you ask me, music and film go hand and hand.” Looking back at him, you gave an innocent shrug, “But you’re the boss, so who am I to argue?” He was taken aback by your quip but you could’ve sworn you saw a hint of a smirk on his lips as he eyed you. You directed your attention back to Josh, “Maybe I’m not a good fit… but I hope you find someone who will be.” You were about to turn and leave, but he stopped you.

“No, don’t leave!” He slapped the other man’s arm, “Jake, don’t be a jackass. We need the help and I think she’ll be great.” He was practically pleading.

“Ahh, you’re Jake…” You finally connected the dots, “The same Jake that would hunt me down and kill me if I made off with that Hendrix poster over there?” You nodded towards the frame that hung on the wall. “So maybe you don’t know classic movies, but you clearly have good taste in music.” It was an attempt at flattery and it seemed to work because he finally cracked a genuine smile.

His eyes flashed to the poster and came back to you, “What’s your favorite Jimi album? Song?” He was trying to quiz you as if he didn’t believe you were really a fan of the musician. “Answer carefully, peach.” 

Your gaze dropped to your shirt before you narrowed your eyes at him, “Axis: Bold As Love by the Experience and Red House… Specifically the Woodstock live recording.” You raised your eyebrow, waiting for a snide remark, “And I have a name…” You almost forgot that Josh was standing beside him until he cleared his throat.

He clapped his hands together with a laugh, “See, Jakey. You can’t tell me she wouldn’t fit in perfectly.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, “Why is Red House your favorite song?” The question made you smile.

“It’s all very bluesy. The guitar riff and solo, his lyrics… The first time my dad played that song, I was completely enthralled.” You were speaking genuinely and judging by the way he was nodding, he knew it.

He turned to Josh, silently communicating to him with a look. You watched them, trying to decipher what was being discussed, but as you studied their expressions, you noticed how similar they looked. Josh’s eyes locked with yours and he answered your question before you could ask it, “Yeah, we’re twins, Y/N.” He chuckled softly, “It’s always the first thing people ask…” You mumbled an apology, casting your eyes to the floor, “Nothing to be sorry for. But good news! You’re hired!”

“What?” You looked at him in shock, “I- But- Don’t you have to…ask more questions?” How did they decide that with just a series of facial expressions to one another? “Do you need references or… I don’t know, it’s never been this easy to get a job, there’s gotta be a catch…”

Jake disappeared through the door behind him for a moment and reemerged holding a t-shirt, “The catch is, you gotta be here bright and early tomorrow to start training.” He tossed the tee at you and slid a piece of paper over the counter, “Take this home, fill it out, and bring it back with you. I’ll see you here at 9am, peach.” He turned around, going back through the door and closing it behind him.

“I promise, he’s not as unpleasant as he makes himself seem.” Josh came around the corner to stand beside you and pulled the paper from the counter, “We’ll start your wages at $20.25 per hour. I just need you to fill out this application with all your basic information. Yanno, name, number, address, social. Then we’ll be able to get you on payroll asap.” He handed you the page with his bright grin that you were growing to really enjoy.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You stuffed the t-shirt and application into your tote bag, “So he’s training me tomorrow?” The distaste was evident in the way you forced a frown, “Are you gonna be around to soften that blow?” You were begging the universe for a yes, but wound up disappointed.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Mondays are my days off…” He gave an apologetic smile, “Jake’s actually really cool, Y/N. And I’ll make sure he goes easy on you.” As if he could sense the anxiety radiating from you, he offered a compromise, “Alright, I have some shit to get done tomorrow, but I’ll stop in around lunch to see how everything’s going. Okay?” He flashed that damn smile and you were sold.

“Thank you, Josh.” Your phone began to ring in your back pocket and you pulled it out, muttering a sorry to him as you answered it, “Hey, Bell.” You listened to her speak for a few moments, “No, I haven’t… I’m fucking starving, though. You wanna come pick me up?...Uhhh, I’m not sure, it’s a record store on Market Street…Yeah, I’ll just drop a pin… Perfect. Love you too, babe.” You hung up, sending her your location, and stuffed the phone back into your pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“Was that your boyfriend?” The question caught you off guard, but the apprehension on his face threw you off even more.

You shook your head, partially to answer his question, but also to clear your mind enough to form a response, “Umm. No. No, that was Bell- Bellamy.” You paused before elaborating further, “She’s my best friend. We moved down here together…” 

He let out a breath that you didn’t realize he was holding in, “Oh! Cool.” The silence stretched between you and you weren’t sure if he felt as awkward as you did.

Your phone dinged, saving you from the tension, and you pulled it back out to see a text from your friend, “She’s here, so I’m gonna go…” You pointed towards the door before slowly turning away from him. Just as you reached the door, you looked back to see him watching you and tried to conceal the blush creeping onto your cheeks, “Any quick food recommendations? We haven’t eaten yet today… Oh! Preferably cheap?” 

“If you’re looking for something close, Super Duper Burgers is great. Definitely check their seasonal menu.” He ran his fingers over his mustache, drawing your attention to his lips, “If you're willing to go a little further up the Market, Taqueria Cancun has some solid, authentic Mexican tacos. There’s a ton of sushi joints.”

“How about pizza? I’m kind of craving a greasy slice.” You knew Bellamy was waiting for you, but for some reason, you didn’t want to leave.

“Ahh, a girl after my own heart.” Josh pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds, “Slice House. Hands down, best pizza. You gotta try the Drunken Italian.” He pinched his fingers together, giving an exaggerated chef’s kiss, “The vodka sauce is fucking revolutionary.” You held eye contact for longer than you cared to admit, but then the corner of his lip curled into a smirk, “You better get going, your friend is waiting.”

“Yeah, I guess I should… See you tomorrow?” He nodded his head, forcing his curls to sway as he waved goodbye. “Bye, Josh.” You pushed through the door and found Bellamy waiting in your car at the curb.

She pulled her purse from the passenger seat as you slid in and handed your phone off with the directions to the pizza place, “Why am I not surprised that you already managed to find a music store?” She shifted the car into drive, hitting the blinker to pull out.

“Bell, I literally just walked in there and they hired me. I start tomorrow.” You almost didn’t believe the words that poured out of your mouth. “It was the weirdest thing… I walked by and there was this Jimi Hendrix poster, and you remember how much my dad loved Jimi?” She nodded, waiting for you to continue, “When I saw it, it just drew me in. I don’t know how to explain it. But I was standing there and this guy came up to me, Josh, and-.”

“Mhmm…” Bellamy cut you off with a knowing smirk, “Josh, huh?”

You scoffed at her, “No. Don’t start, it’s not even like that.” You didn’t defend any further, just proceeded with your story, “Anyways… He offered me a job and he and his brother interviewed me right on the spot. I start tomorrow morning and get this, Twenty dollars an hour, Bell.”

She gawked at you, eyes wide, “Twenty? That’s over the minimum wage here. Did you suck his dick to get it?” She laughed at her own joke as you lightly hit her arm.

“You’re an asshole, yanno?” You sat back in your seat, laughing with her. “He is pretty cute, I can’t lie… He just seems like a really fun person and he’s always smiling. Like the brightest smile you’d ever see... But his brother, Jake, was sort of insufferable.” You were chewing on your lip as she glanced at you.

“Insufferable how?” She turned to you fully as the car stopped at a red light.

You thought back to the short exchange you’d had with him, “He was arrogant as hell, for starters.” Her eyes went back to the road as she let off the brake and you continued, “He didn’t even bother to learn my name, just kept calling me ‘peach.’ You wouldn’t even know they were twins if they didn’t look identical.” You stared out the window, looking at the buildings to find Slice House.

Bellamy spotted the restaurant at the same time you did, swinging the car into the first available spot she could find, “Twins? Oh, you’re fucking joking, Y/N. We haven’t even lived here a full day!” She cut the engine as she glared at you, “How old are they?”

“I don’t know? Our age, maybe a little older… Why does it matter?” You were toying with your fingers, something you did when you were nervous. “Don’t give me that damn look, Bellamy! It’s just a job. You’re not gonna find some hidden context in this.” Pushing the car door open, you stepped out to end the conversation.

She was popping out of her side right after you, “Okay, babe. Whatever you say…” You knew she had more to say but she dropped the topic for the time being as you both walked into the restaurant.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

You stood right outside of the door, looking at your reflection in the glass to straighten your shirt out. It was 8:48am and you were trying to work up the courage to go in, mentally preparing yourself to be trained by Jake. You were too focused on your reflection to see that he was coming across the store. The door pushed open and you jumped back with a yelp, “Did you plan on coming in for your shift or were you gonna spend another 15 minutes fixing your shirt?” He was holding the door, waiting for you to go inside.

You moved past him, rolling your eyes, “You know, you just make the atmosphere so inviting. How could I not want to be here?” You bit your tongue, aware of how much attitude you’d just given the man who is technically your boss. “Sorry, I-.” You turned back to face him but he was already breezing by you.

“You’re kind of a fucking brat…” You followed behind him, ready to argue his claim, but he was already moving on as though he’d said nothing at all, “Here. We got a long morning ahead of us and you’re gonna need to keep up with me.” He grabbed a cup from beside the register, handing it to you, and pointed to the door behind him, “There’s cream and sugar in the office if you need it, don’t take forever.” Taking the hot coffee without a word, you stepped around him to go into the office. When you came back, he was leaning against the counter, chin propped on his fist, “You fill that paper out, peach?”

Digging into your tote, you pulled the paper out and slapped it down in front of him, “That’s not my name, it’s-.”

“Y/N. I know” His lips curled into a conceited smirk and, had he not been walking away,  you might have slapped it right off of his face, “Peach feels more fitting.” He waved his hand, beckoning you to follow him.

You fell into step as he walked towards the front of the store, “You saw fruit on my shirt and ran with it. Very original idea, can’t believe I didn’t think of it.” The look he had when he whipped around to face you made you clamp your mouth shut, but you couldn’t help the tingle you felt through your body at his response.

Jake was glaring at you with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place, “You’ve got a mouth on you.” He was pointing a finger at you, “and I can think of a few different ways to shut it.” Your jaw practically hit the floor as you stared at him and he flashed a devilish smile, knowing that he’d left you speechless. He turned away again, leading you to a display near the front door, “Pay attention.” You nodded silently as he started mapping things out for you, “This rack is all new release vinyls. We change most of them out weekly, depending on what kind of album drops there are.” He started walking towards the middle of the store, walking between the rows of shelves, “Everything is sorted by genre first and then alphabetical order.” You listened intently as he sped through the rundown, “We keep bargain bins down here.” He pulled open a cabinet door below one of the tables, revealing crates full of vinyls with torn and worn sleeves, “These are all used and donated, we sell them for $3 a piece or we do 10 for $10. It’s hit or miss, some work, some don’t.” Closing the cabinet, he moved to a different part of the store. You trailed quietly alongside him, soaking up all of the information he was spewing. After about 20 minutes, he’d looped you both back to the front, “Let’s see if you’ve kept up…” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to see if you’d maintained any of the knowledge.

“Okay…” You took a deep breath, “Here we have new releases. They get updated weekly, unless there aren’t any good drops.” You continued throughout the space, pouring everything he’d given you back out to him, until you made it to the checkout counter, “Limited Edition vinyls are kept behind the counter, the new inventory delivery comes every Friday morning at 8am sharp, and I think that’s everything…?”

Jake was nodding his head, surprisingly impressed, “Not bad, peach.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, “We got a half hour before we open at 11.” He plucked your application from the counter where you’d left it, “I’m gonna get through some paperwork. You can-” He was cut off by the sound of footsteps coming from the back of the store. “Liv? I thought we wouldn’t see you until summer?” He greeted the short, blonde girl.

She had a stereotypical valley girl accent, “Finished my semester early, figured you guys needed me more than UCLA.” She gave him a smile that looked like she wanted to devour him. Her eyes flashed to you dismissively before flying back to Jake, “You here by yourself? I can clock in and help out.”

You shifted on your feet, feeling out of place, and Jake took notice, “Not alone today, I have peach, here, to help out.” He nodded towards you.

“Peach?” She finally took the time to really look you over, “Were your parents hippies or something?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, not sure how to respond, “Uhh. No, that’s not… My name is Y/N.” You reach out for a handshake, out of respect, but she just stared at your extended hand.

“Cool. I’m Olivia.” And just like that, she directed her attention back to Jake, “Can you fit me on the schedule this week?” She pushed her bottom lip out, looking like a toddler begging for candy, “I know you guys miss me.”

He shook his head with a faint smile, “I’ll talk to Josh.” He left it at that, turning to you, “Take that box and start putting the shit where it goes.” He pointed at the box on the floor.

“Aye aye, captain.” You saluted him with a smile and picked the box up.

A chuckle escaped his mouth and until that moment, you thought he was incapable of feeling joy, “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.” He started to walk around the counter, “I’ll let you know about the schedule, Liv.” He slipped through the door and closed it behind him, leaving you with the girl.

To avoid conversation, you gripped the box in your arms and lifted it to counter to begin sorting through it. Pulling out a stack of vinyls, you carried them through the store, fitting them into their rightful places. You hadn’t realized Olivia was following you until her low, grating voice creeped into your ears, “So…How did you get a job here?” She was watching you carefully, almost like she was waiting for you to make a mistake, “Jake is suuuper picky about who he hires.”

You looked at the last vinyl in the stack you were carrying, “Uhm, I just came in here yesterday to look at something and Josh offered me the job.” Moving through the tables, you went to the Country section and tucked the album away, “Jake gave me a shirt and told me to be here at 9am, so here I am.”

She was standing so close to you that you almost ran into her as you turned around to retrieve more from the box, “Here you are…” She sounded annoyed, but you ignored it as you pushed past her.

You went about your business for the next several minutes, finishing the task that Jake had given you, as she lingered through the store, watching you work while she pretended to browse the music. You pulled the empty box from the counter, ready to ask your boss what he wanted you to do next, when the bell on the front door chimed. You turned around to see a man come in and go straight to the New Release rack. He perused for a few moments before moving to the tables to search through the records. You expected Jake to emerge from the office, but he never did. After a few minutes of the guy looking entirely lost in his search, you took a deep breath and made your way over to him. Your eyes flicked to Olivia to see her staring at you, a cocky grin on her face. “Hi, can I help you find something, hun?” You put on your best customer service smile as he turned to face you.

“Actually yeah…” He looked like he was maybe in his early twenties and he seemed nervous, “I’m looking for something for my dad. He just bought himself a record player, but he doesn’t have any records for it.” He gave a shrug, “I don’t really know where to start here.”

This wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, “Okay, do you know what kind of music he likes? Any specific artist or band?” You waited patiently for him to answer.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen a few times, and held it up to show you, “This is a band right? I think he likes them.” It was a picture of a man, probably his father, wearing a Led Zeppelin tour t-shirt.

Your eyes went back to his face, giving him another sweet grin, “Yeah. Zeppelin’s a great band. Your dad has great taste.” You moved around him to walk him over to the appropriate shelves, “We should have a ton of their stuff… Do you want anything specific?” You had a feeling that he wouldn’t know what to choose.

“I- Well, what would you recommend?” He stood by while you flicked through the selection, “Which one is the best?”

“That’s a tricky question.” You pulled a few vinyls from the display, holding them up one by one, “So, Zep one is a safe choice. It’s their first studio album, really opened up the door for them, plus it’s got a couple really great blues covers.” You slid that one to the back of your stack to reveal the next, “ Two is also good. You get Whole Lotta Love, Ramble On, Heartbreaker.” He was nodding as you pulled your final option forward, “This one is my personal favorite.” You held up the album, showing him the cover with the peeling paint and the old man carrying a bundle of sticks, “I kind of skipped over three, but Zoso…This is their fourth studio album, and arguably the best.” You handed it to the boy to examine, “Going to California is probably my favorite song of all time. But it’s also got Stairway to Heaven and When the Levee Breaks. Black Dog. If your dad is a Led Zeppelin fan, then he’ll definitely appreciate this.”

“You know what, I’ll take this one and the first one you showed me.” You handed him the first album before turning to put the remaining one back on the shelf. He was smiling wide as he took it from you, “So are you like a music expert or something?”

You giggled at his question, “I wouldn’t say expert… Just really appreciative of what’s good.” You were staring at his light blue eyes, almost entranced in them when Jake barked your name from the counter. You jumped, whipping around to look at him with wide eyes. He held his hand up, waving for you to go to him, “Gimme one minute.” You called out to him and went to turn back to the man in front of you, but Jake’s voice rang out louder.

“No. Right now, Y/N.” He was leaning his hands on the countertop, glaring in your direction, but his eyes weren’t on you.

You muttered an apology to the blue-eyed boy, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.” You shuffled across the store, embarrassed at how he’d just spoken to you in front of your first customer, but also pissed at how he treated you like you were an insolent child. You stood in front of him, whisper-yelling to avoid further embarrassment, “What the hell, Jake? What did I do?” You looked around, realizing that Olivia was gone.

“You’re here to work, not flirt.” There was an edge to his tone that you couldn’t fully decipher.

“What?” You stared at him in shock, “I wasn’t- I was making a sale! Yanno? What you hired me to do…” Was this conversation even real?

He stepped out from behind the counter, “Go wait in the office, I’ll finish your sale.” You moved to try and stop him but his voice was dangerously low, stopping you in your tracks, “Office, Y/N. I’ll carry you in there myself if I have to.” He turned on his heel, walking towards the customer without another word, and you found yourself obeying his command to wait in the office.

Pushing through the door, you looked around the small space before closing it and dropping into a chair. You were highly considering just quitting as soon as he came in, but at the same time, you didn’t want to. Everything was so confusing… Why did he accuse you of flirting when he wasn’t even there? And why did the possibility of you flirting make him so mad? You sunk further into your seat, pondering your own questions, but the one you needed an answer for most; Why did you so easily bend to his will? You were pulled from your thoughts by the door opening.

“Good to know you’re capable of obeying orders, peach…”

.

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.

.

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🤍Taglist🤍

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ieatedsammy @twistedmelodies @dropdeadalyx31 @ageofbajabule @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @ignite-my-fire @becinabubblegvf @literal-dead-leaf @sanguinebats @myleftsock @laneygvf @writingcold @sinarainbows @lipstickitty @giraffehippy

#jake kiszka #josh kiszka #gvf twin series #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #josh kiskza smut #gvf fic #Spotify

[james-town]

Happy “fuck America but we still grillin tho” day, everybody. Now, I hate America probably significantly more than the next guy, but I still have familial obligations to eat hotdogs and set off highly illegal fireworks. Which brings me to my next point:

Star spangled lemon icebox pie.

As seen above, it is a delightful representation of the fact that I don’t have enough money to move to another country, so I’m stuck in this shithole making cheesecake.

Ingredients:

- 15 pecan sandies (or another pecan shortbread. I don’t recommend using homemade, mostly because homemade shortbread is usually pretty greasy)

- 1 tbsp sugar

- 3 tbsp butter, melted

- 8 oz cream cheese, softened (Philadelphia cream cheese comes in 8 oz packages)

- 1/2 cup mascarpone cheese (can be swapped 1:1 for Greek yogurt or sour cream)

- 1 tbsp grated lemon zest (half a lemon)

- 1/2 cup lemon juice (half a lemon)

- 14 oz sweetened condensed milk (one can)

- berries of your choice

Step one: preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Step two: use a food processor to grind up your cookies and sugar. After they’re ground, add the melted butter and pulse until combined. (First time I made this, I accidentally added the cookies butter and sugar all at the same time. If you make this mistake, use a fork to break up your cookies).

Step three: press crust mixture in the bottom and up the sides of a 9 inch pie tin. It’s okay if you can’t get it all the way up the sides.

Step four: bake the crust for 15 to 20 minutes, or until crust is browned. Cool completely on wire racks (the cooling usually takes about an hour).

Step five: using a hand mixer, beat together cheeses and lemon ingredients. This will make a creamy cheese monstrosity.

Step six: add the sweetened condensed milk gradually, and beat until smooth. It’s a lot of sweetened condensed milk but trust me it’s worth it

Step seven: wait around for your crust to cool. When it’s /completely cool/ pour in your dairy Frankenstein. Stick in the fridge for at least four hours (overnight is preferable).

Step eight: decorate! Pull your pie out of the fridge and cover it in berries. You can do a star like I did, or a middle finger like I wanted to do! Word to the wise: make sure to outline your berry shape before you fill it in. Then stick back in the fridge and serve cold!

Step nine: eat your leftover mascarpone cheese before it goes bad

#baking #food #fourth of July #warning: I have no idea how this tastes since I’m allergic to half the ingredients #such is the life of a hobby baker #my recipes

[gerbu]

Ever wake up with a burning hatred for America. Like I saw one post about the injustice of x thing and immediately I was like fuck this. Fuck this stupid country that treats us like animals. Fuck this stupid fucking government and these stupid fucking corporations that only see us as another asset. Fuck these disgusting monsters who are meant to protect us but will shoot children on the basis of their skin color. Fuck the government a second time for refusing to acknowledge the continued genocide of millions of native americans.

And of course, fuck the goddamn shit sucking diarrhea pissing founding fathers who owned other human beings and were so abhorrently racist that the question of whether or not non white men were included under the title of man in their constitution was never even fucking asked.

There are no words I can find to accurately describe how angry I feel at how long this has been going on. At the fact that hundreds of millions of innocent people have died by the hand of a government that doesn’t give a shit. At the fact that if we did anything about this, if we’re short just enough people for those in power not to take us seriously, then we can be jailed and harmed by those who were meant to protect us. America is a fucking dumpster fire.

#I wish I could be proud of this place #I wish I could say that I loved my country #but my country is a fucking shithole and I can’t wait until I can get the fuck out of here #fuck capitalism #I swear I’m going to burn this place to the fucking ground #and I wish I could do something but I can’t because I’m literally just a kid. I’m barely even a teenager #I wish anyone could do something but this is a fucking dystopia and unless either enough people say something #or one big super rich person says something #literally nothing is going to happen #and everyone who can is going to forget about it within a month #people are more than assets #people are more than concrete #blm #black lives matter #stop asian hate #stop asian violence #support blm #punk socialism #socialism #socialist #indigenous land rights #indigenous lives matter #fuckthepolice #fuck 12 #acab #all cops are bastards

[haikyuuwaifu]

Girls Need Love

Genre: Angst, Drama

Pro-Hero Bakugo x Dabi x Reader x Shinsou Poly

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: THERE IS WRITING AFTER THE LAST ‘MURDER BITCHES’ GC

Masterlist

Mustafu Tea| Mustafu Tea 2| Charity Event Planning| Y/N Interviews Uravity

Y/N Interviews Uravity

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching the way everyone else moved to Uravity’s every whim. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the other woman’s mannerisms and her demeanor. Scoffing she turned and headed towards her “office” for the day. To no one’s surprise Uravity’s manager was standing there ready to discuss what exactly the interview was going to be about. “This is going live, so stick to the questions that are on the sheet only.” he snarked, eyeing her up and down. Waving her hand in response, Y/N spoke. “ This isn’t my first Interview; I know what I’m doing, and I won’t be asking questions you’ve put together.” “What the he-” she interrupted the snarling man. “This interview was already set and scheduled before you came with your questions. My questions were already approved, now I have someone to interview. We’ll see how things go hm?” she stated smiling sweetly.

Across town; Dabi, Shinsou, and Bakugo were sitting around the compact radio placed in the middle of the conference table. The rest of their friends and respected partners surrounded the trio as they prepared themselves to listen to Y/N’s interview.

*Interview*

Y/N: “Good Morning Uravity, and thank you for taking the time to do this interview.” she stated, not even bothering to make eye contact with the hero in front of her.

Uravity: She noticed Y/N ignore her gaze, but opted to let it slide; just this once. “Thank you for having me! I can’t wait to see what kind of questions you have.” she stated smiling coyly. She would break this one down like she did all the others.

Y/N: “ Your hero sheet says your from a small town, did you know that I’m from a small town too?” She asked, eyeing the woman sweetly. 

Uravity: “I had no idea! The change from there to the big city is difficult isn’t it?!” she asked clapping her hands excitedly. “How long have you been here?!”

Y/N: She shrugged nonchalantly “Just a few years, spent most my life back home...since my parents couldn’t afford to send me to school in a fancy place like Tokyo.” she said. “You went to UA right? Scholarship student if I remember correctly?” Uravity nodded her head slightly. 

Uravity: “What do these questions have to do with the fans?” she asked a little confused.

Y/N: “Today’s interview isn’t about the fans. I don’t know who told you that; but today is all about you. We here at [station name] want to put the #25 hero under the microscope, and you are contractually obligated to sit here and do it; or lose a sponsor.” slapping her papers on the desk in front of her, Y/N smirked. “Lets begin.”

Uravity: “What is there to even talk about? Every aspect of my life is in the public eye; including my horrible last relationship.” she huffed crossing her arms over her chest.

Y/N: “I’m glad you brought that up, because that’s what I wanted to talk about; but first I want to talk about your parents...as a ‘pillar’ for young girls from small towns and the country side; how can you possibly campaign that you can be anything or do anything no matter where you’re from...if you haven’t been home to see them since you graduated?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be leading by example?”

Uravity: “Being a hero is busy work, and my parents get that.” she declared, sneering at Y/N. “ What would you know about it anyway? You’re here interviewing me; and I’m a hero.”

Y/N: “I don’t go back to that shithole by choice, you don’t go back out of sheer embarrassment.” she snorted. 

Uravity: “What the hell would I have to be embarrassed about?” she screeched leaning over the table.

Y/N: “ A number of things really. I suppose we could start with the fact that you were the #6 hero, until the end of your previous relationship where you dropped 14 ranks to 20. Seems the fans realized that the big 3 were carrying you the entire time.” “Or maybe it was the fact that your relationship ended, because you decided fucking your mentor has been was better for you than the three biggest heroes in the country?” she asked grin plastered on the face.

Uravity: “Where the fuck did you get that information?!” She screeched standing now. “There was an agreement that the true cause of the relationship stay under wraps; which means they must have told you!”

Y/N: “No, what happened was I was assigned the task of exposing you for the true bitch you are. I didn’t have to ask them, I just had to ask your former mentor who sung like a canary. Everything has already been sent to the papers. What I can’t fathom is why you thought it would be okay to treat those three the way you did, when all the did was l-”

*Across Town* 

The boys and everyone else scrambled, as they hear a screech over the radio; and then complete silence.

-Uravity got her ass beat and she got exposed. But not Y/N trying to deflect beating her ass “quirkless” with the offer of dinner cause she knows the guys would be focused on her and not her ability to fight “quirkless” LMAO. 

@dabilove27​ @amarillyis​ @iambashfulperson​ @axerrri​ @ozzy-bozzy​ @squishy-jellyfish​ @cerezahowl @that-one-lonely-girl​ @loverofallthingsfoxy​ @starrygoblin​ @groupiearchive @lia-faerie-queen​ @mint-mai​ @bbymilkbread​ @yafriendlyfangirl​ @jadenyukis-bodypillow​ @violeteyesandpurplehair​@cataxtrohpic @wineandionysus​ @bakuhoetoedoroki​ @kit-kat428​

#katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #shinsou imagine #bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha #bnha smau

[lalazinhaaaaaa]

Julie and her friends were on an exchange, they were lucky to be able to go together. It was their first time outside their country, they barely knew how to speak French, but they decided to throw themselves into the new experience.

Little did they know that it wouldn't be one of the best things they did, they should have studied more, learned more about where they decided to stay. As they did not want to stay in university dorms, they decided to rent an apartment to stay during the exchange.

"Julie, are you sure we'll be fine?" Joseph asked.

"I do have my dear friend," Julie replied.

"But we still don't even speak French properly, in my opinion it would be better to stay in the university dorms," ​​Olivia replied.

-Guys, what is that? Scared now, we're between 8 , so all this drama - said Julie giving a mocking giggle.

"But Olivia is right, Julie," Tom said looking at the apartment.

-Tom, fuck you love you're scared to death too - Julie laughed as she looked at Tom giving him a kiss.

- Okay, but if something happens I'll get out of here little people - Margaret said.

- All in favor of giving the apartment a chance? asked Julie.

-Yes, said Tom, Leyla, Ayla, Mark, Margaret, Olivia and Joseph.

- Okay but let's be friendly heard Tom, it's not for anything you're going to beat up everything and everyone, we're not in Mexico.

- Yes my goddess I'll hold back with the jerks - replied Tom.

Tom had already disliked that place at first, but he didn't want to be the coward who would abandon his beloved for fear of a silly apartment. But still something about that place wasn't right, maybe the people there or the red color of the walls.

Everyone was so quiet, even the neighbors who had little kids. On the very first night the students noticed strange things, such as whistles, footsteps, saw noises and screams.

Tom woke up in the middle of the night scared looking at the scared faces of his friends and his girlfriend. "What is this noise?", a question crossed the minds of the students.

"We'd better not go see, he's a maniac," Ayla said.

"Who would be the crazy one who would see what's making that noise," Joseph said.

"Me," replied Mark, wanting to pay as a bully.

"Look if you die no one will be responsible," Julie argued.

"All right then go back to sleep, you cowards," said Mark.

"Why can't we pretend we haven't heard anything," Margaret said.

"It would be a good idea if asshole Mark would stop wanting to play manly," Joseph said looking at Mark who was now frowning, fists clenched ready to fight Joseph.

- Enough people, let's all stay here, tomorrow we talk to our neighbor about the noise coming from his house- argued Julie.

"Okay then," Tom said.

"Fucking shithole bunch," said Mark.

- Mano I'm putting up with you, if I hear one more fucking word from you, I'll kill you right here! - shouted Tom.

- Tom, calm love - Julie said trying to avoid a fight.

- Wow, I...- Mark stopped after hearing a thump on the wall behind him.

"Let's lock the door and be quiet here, whoever or whatever will stop soon," Leyla whispered.

"Great now everything's closed, we don't need to worry," Ayla said looking at everyone.

Ayla walked to the apartment door and her classmates all followed her slowly, then  Ayla closed the door. And everyone went back to their room, lay down on their beds and spent the night awake looking at the ceiling, waiting for the noise to stop, but from what they could see the noise only stopped at 6:30 am.

They were exhausted, as all night without sleep made them look like walking zombies, the worst thing is that now they would have to go to college. In Julie's mind what she wanted most was just sleep, she didn't even know where her school supplies were.

- Enough, we didn't sleep at all because of that asshole neighbor, I'll break his face if that was a movie and if he was throwing things at the walls - said Tom angrily.

- Tom, hey calm my angel, leave it aside, we have to go to college - said Julie.

- College, you're crazy, bro we didn't close our eyes for a minute, tell me how we're going to study - argued Tom.

- Tom, calm down, Mark said.

- I'm not coming back here later, I'm going to a college dorm, no more fucking sleep! - Ayla shouted - And worse bro today for sure will have either physics or math just because we're dead sleepy.

"Guys this was just a bad night's sleep," Julie said.

"Just a bad night's sleep with a neighbor who watches horror movies and throws things at walls all night long," Tom said.

Knock knock somebody knocked on the door, Tom went to the door and opened it quickly, seeing that she was a short lady who was with a sad expression he led her inside.

- Thank you young people, I wanted to ask you if you haven't seen my son Barth around? - Asked the lady.

"Sorry we didn't see it," Julie said.

- Do you know who our neighbor is? asked Tom.

- I'm your neighbor, and yesterday my son disappeared after 22:45 at night - I looked for him everywhere - replied the lady.

"So you were the one watching the movie until 6:30 in the morning," Tom said in a harsh tone.

"I haven't watched movies for years, it must have been my son then that little bastard," she said.

"What do you mean your son, he's not missing?" Ayla asked.

"You're quoting that I'm lying to you," the lady said.

- No, of course not, we just wanted to know how the television was on from 22:45 to 6:30 and you didn't listen? - Ayla asked.

- There was no television on this morning in my house - replied the lady.

- But you... - Ayla was silenced by the lady's indicated finger.

- My young woman, I think I'm going to go, I haven't found my son yet - said the lady.

- Bye then, it was a pleasure to meet you - Julie said goodbye.

The lady just left without saying goodbye, and went towards the apartment next door. They were thoughtful for a while, because if it wasn't you or her son who would it be? But now they didn't have time to think, they should go to college.

The tupique was about to leave without them, when they entered they saw their new colleagues, a girl approached them and said softly "sє єυ ƒσssє vσcєs iriα мє мυ∂αr" , and walked away soon after. The young people were kind of embarrassed after the way the girl spoke.

- Girl?! - shouted Tom

"Yes," she said.

"What do you know about the apartments?" asked Tom looking at the girl.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Camili, I know that in the apartments you're in there were already several illogical disappearances and that people were never found- said the girl.

- Nice Tom, nice name your girl, but are these rumors or has it been confirmed by the police? asked Tom.

- They were confirmed by the police - he replied

Camili looking into Tom's eyes.

Tom felt a shiver run through her body, Camili's eyes were an icy baby blue hue, he could feel the coldness with which she answered his question. When they arrived at the college, the students went after Camili, looking for her everywhere and even. so they didn't find her.

So he decided to ask about Camili, but everyone they asked was stunned and embarrassed. At the end of the corridor they saw a vijia and went to him.

"Sir, have you seen a blonde girl with big baby blue eyes named Camili?" asked Tom.

-Camili was a student who studied here until the day she disappeared without a trace - he said - if you know something about her you can go to the police station and report it, any help or clues about her whereabouts are welcome.

- Wow, sorry is that we saw you today in the tupique - said Tom.

"What do you mean you saw her in the tupique?" asked the vijia.

"It's serious man," replied Tom.

- Okay young people, but stop playing with it, it's not funny - replied the vijia.

- But...- Tom was interrupted.

- But nothing, no more making fun of it! - shouted the vijia.

Tom walked away from the startled vijia, even though Tom tried, there was no denying that he and his friends saw Camili. But they couldn't prove anything to anyone, as only they saw it.

- Look guys, Camili spoke of the apartments where we are, don't you think it's strange? - asked Julie.

-We should keep an eye on that crazy girl from our neighbor, she seems to be suspicious of something - argued Tom looking at Julie.

- Okay, let's believe that crazy lady who lost her son could be a psychopath in disguise, please don't make me laugh - mocked Mark.

- Man is going to get hurt, I'm not kidding bro! - Tom shouted.

- Tom calm down, leave him please - Julie said trying to calm Tom down.

-Fuck you bro, you guys are fucking crazy! - Mark yelled.

- Dude, fuck it's serious my God you're dumb bro, you saw the screaming yesterday! cried Margarete.

- Bad guys, I'm tired, I won't stay in that apartment of hell anymore! Ayla yelled.

A silence dominated the place, the university corridors seemed to have fallen silent to hear their conversation, their classmates were all staring with wide eyes.

"Ayla we're not fucking leaving you alone!" Julia yelled.

-Damn fuck you, I'm not spending another day in that hell!- Ayla shouted.

"Enough, Ayla and I aren't staying at the apartment, period," Margaret said.

"Okay then, doesn't anyone else want to stay in the apartment?" Julie asked.

Everyone raised their hands, even her boyfriend Tom, demonstrating that she was the only one who would still want to stay in that apartment.

- Wow, you scared people, huh - said Julie.

-Love look you saw what you saw and heard what you heard yesterday-said Tom-is not safe that place and we both know it.

❏ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❏ ❐ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❒ ❏ ❐

After class everyone went to the apartment, Ayla and Margaret entered the room and began to pack their things to get out of that place as quickly as possible.

After tidying everything up, they sat on the couch while they waited for their friends to come to their meetings to say goodbye or even to go with them to the college dorms.

Suddenly Joseph and Olivia appeared with their bags ready to go with them. His eyes were hooded in dark circles.

- Is it really serious people are you going to leave the apartment and go to those boring dorms? - Julie asked.

- Oh love, look I know you'll be mad, but I don't want to stay in this place either - Tom said.

-Even you love, oh, you'll be screwed, Julie replied.

-Julie listen for the love of God, you have a problem, you heard that scream yesterday! - shouted Tom.

"Don't yell at me you asshole!" Julie yelled.

-Look here, I'm already tired of you and in this authoritative way, it comes, grows and becomes an adult! - shouted Tom going to the bedroom.

-It's over, you idiot, go with them and leave me alone asshole! - Julie shouted.

"Okay then it's over," replied Tom soothingly.

"They're all going to take your scared shit out of your ass!" Julie yelled.

"Oh you go, you useless babe, muggle!" Ayla yelled.

"Useless, you spoiled little patsy who lives off your parents, your carrot-colored hair!" Julie yelled.

- Julie will fuck you girl, stop being a child - Joseph said looking at Julie.

- Leave Ayla the fuck alone, bro you're more childish than my little sister of four years - Olivia said going after Ayla who ran to the room in tears.

- Come on guys, leave this clown there alone in this shit - Tom said.

- I'm staying here with Julie, I'm not leaving her alone in this place - said Mark.

- Me too, she is my friend unlike you - Leyla replied.

"Then stay there, you vultures!" shouted Tom.

-Look man you're pissing me off! - Mark yelled punching Tom in the face.

- You bastard! - shouted Tom going towards Mark giving him another punch.

- Damn, bro, stop!-  Ayla shouted entering the middle of the fight.

Mark landed a punch on Ayla, she fell to the ground, at that moment Tom and Mark looked at Ayla who sat on the floor and started crying again rubbing her forehead.

-Ayla my dear sorry - begged Mark.

"Tom help me!" Ayla said through tears and sobs.

"Calm down, let's get out of here," Tom said, approaching Ayla and extending his hand toward her.

Tom, Joseph, Ayla, Olivia and Margaret left the apartment and went to the university dorms. That night Julie wept bitterly for having ended up with Tom like that.

❏ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❏ ❐ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❒ ❏ ❐

A week later...

Julie, Mark and Leyla were unrecognizable due to their sleepless nights in that apartment. They spotted Tom kissing Ayla, at that moment Julie's floor disappeared.

She threw herself on the bench beside her and started to cry. She still loved Tom and wanted him back, but now she wouldn't stand a chance against Ayla, a tall, skinny redhead with long, shapely legs, a slim waist, a tight butt and a beautiful face.

She knew she was and always was the weirdest of the bunch. And she managed to date the captain of the football team and now played the two years of dating because of a silly little fight.

- Julie, calm down - Leyla said looking at Julie.

"How to calm me down Ayla and Tom are together," Julie said through sighs, "I love Tom and I will always love him."

-Girl forget about him, he doesn't deserve you - said Mark.

❏ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❏ ❐ ❐ ❑ ❒ ❒ ❏ ❐

Two days later...

Ayla called Julie, but the call was declined. Julie was still very hurt with Ayla and didn't even want to hear her voice.

Julie felt a hand caressing her waist, she turned abruptly and came face to face with Mark. She was so confused by it, she didn't want him to touch her like that, but something inside her was wanting some physical contract.

"Mark, please stop it," she said softly.

"Oh Julie you know I've always had a crush on you," retorted Mark.

- Mark is serious pa... - Julie was interrupted by a kiss.

Mark kissed her as he stroked her hair, she pushed him away hard making him fall off the bed.

"Mark arrives!" Julie yelled.

- Enough not we're just starting - he said opening a distorted smile on his face as he grabbed Julie's arms.

-Leyla, help!-Julie yelled as she struggled trying to escape from Mark.

Mark and Leyla appeared, and were amazed by what they saw, it was as if what was on top of Julie was a clone of Mark. The clone then looked at Mark and Leyla and began to dematerialize.

"Julie are you okay?" Mark asked, approaching Julie.

As he did so, Julie stuck a pair of scissors in his left eye, making him fall dry on the damp floor. Leyla was startled by what she saw and ran towards the exit of the apartment.

-Leyla waits!-Julie yelled as she ran after Leyla.

"Help!" Leyla shouted.

Julie took off her sneaker and threw it towards Leyla, but luckily for Leyla she missed. Leyla kept running and being chased by Julie.

Leyla got into the elevator and started pressing the button for the first floor. She was lucky that elevator closed before Julie reached her. Startled, she hurried out of the apartment as soon as the elevator stopped on the first floor.

Julie had never been this violent, but now she's paranoid. The only thing left for Leyla now was to go to the university dorms to find her friends and talk about Julie's situation.

She knew it wouldn't be easy because she turned down going with her friends to the dorms, she knew they were still hurt by her choice to stay with Julie in that damn apartment. But something was still brooding in her head "if that guy who was on top of Julie wasn't Mark, then who was it?"

-Leyla please wait! - Julie shouted running after Leyla.

-What do you want, leave me alone please! - Leyla shouted.

After running for a long time Leyla noticed that Julie stopped chasing, she just stopped and turned around and walked back towards the apartment. Leila kept running even though she knew Julie was no longer after her, as she still needed to communicate the situation to her friends.

Arriving at the dorm she noticed that everything was too quiet for her liking knowing it wasn't even time for bed yet. It was still 7 pm she knew her friends very well and knew they would always go to sleep from 10 pm onwards.

Upon arriving in the dorm room where her friends were, she noticed that the two were off and that a disturbing silence was in that room, something kind of weird because her friends loved to gossip about other people's lives and discussing random things. It was then that she realized they weren't there.

She knew he shouldn't have gone to the apartment where Julie was but something made her think about this possibility. So she decided to go back to the apartment even knowing it would be risky for her life even knowing that now whoever was there was no longer her friend but yes a crazy maniac.

Upon arriving there she noticed that there was a taxi at the door of the building where Julie was, she entered faster running into the building took the elevator to the floor where Julie was hoping that her friends would be there too. Luckily for her the only one there was Tom he was looking for Julia because he wanted to tell her that he had nothing against her and that he didn't hold a grudge against her.

"Tom is serious, get out of there, this isn't the Julie we know," Leyla said quietly.

"What do you mean by that?" Tom asked.

"She had a tantrum, snipped at Mark and killed him, all because of a damn clone of him I don't know what that thing was I just know it looked like him," Leyla replied.

"I'm not sure Julie wouldn't be able to do that or would she?" retorted Tom awkwardly.

- Yes, she would fucking have to get out of here! - Leyla said worried.

- First you get Julie and Mark here and now you mean that Julie killed Mark - said tone sarcastically - I mean that she is dangerous and that we have to get out of here do not make me laugh Please stop with this nonsense.

"Tom is serious, let's get out of here," Leyla pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere without talking to Julie first," Tom said in a stressed tone.

- Tom please I'm not kidding - Leyla begged once again crying.

- Leyla, calm down I'll just talk to her nothing more - replied Tom.

- So first please get me out of here and take me with you?! - Leyla pleaded.

- I'll get you out of here and then I'll come back to talk to Julie - replied Tom.

As soon as he took Leyla's hand there was silence and then a sharp thud, Leyla fell to the ground with a knife stuck in her back. At that moment Tom saw Julie down the hall looking at him with a distorted smile.

Startled Tom ran towards the stairs and went down as fast as he could to the second floor, but then he saw Leyla, something wasn't right, Leyla had died in front of him there was no way she was alive and there was no way she could come after him.

Tom ran to the apartment that was closed, broke the door and entered and luckily there was a closet on the wall he entered the closet and locked the door and that's when he turned around and saw Julie's decomposing body. Leyla if that was what it was Leyla hadn't entered the apartment where Tom was hiding in the closet.

Doubts appeared in Tom's mind "When did Jully die? How did she die and how long have they been living with that imposter among them?" Suddenly he heard a familiar voice calling him, Ayla's voice.

But Tom wasn't stupid he wasn't going to get out of there, he knew he could be a clone of Ayla. But suddenly something opened the door, abruptly pulling Tom out.

- Let's go your mule, let's leave! - Ayla shouted pulling him by the arm.

He noticed Ayla was covered in blood, she pulled him outside the building where they were, shoved him into the taxi car, then got in next to him and the car started.

-Listen, we have to get out of here, there's something weird going on, something really weird and we can't stay here or we'll end up dying- Ayla said.

"Where are we going then, and you're really Aila?" asked Tom.

"We're going to the airport, let's go back home, yes I'm Ayla and I noticed that our friends are weird, I don't think any of them are real anymore," Ayla replied.

- Thank God. I would not know what to do without you, everything happened so suddenly - said Tom relieved.

-No, it didn't happen all of a sudden signs appeared everywhere, for example with Julie's obsession to stay in that apartment, the fights that happened between us, none of this was normal and also with Camili's appearance- replied Ayla.

"So you mean that our friends are all dead or that we were living a fake the whole time?" asked Tom.

- No, that's not the problem was that apartment. Do you remember those screams that night? - Ayla asked.

"I remember it was after that that everything started to get weird," Tom replied.

"You didn't notice that those screams sounded familiar somehow, you know it was Julie screaming," Ayla snapped.

"But Julie was on my side, it can't have been her," Tom said.

-Hey you're the only one who didn't notice that that wasn't Julie, but a clone of her- said Ayla.

"My God, since I was stupid all this time, I remember feeling like Julie was up that night from her bed," Tom argued.

Upon arriving at the airport, Tom and Ayla saw Ayla's father's jet waiting for them. Ayla's father got out of the jet and went to meet her and Tom.

They all quickly boarded the jet and shortly thereafter the jet took off and when it flew towards the airport exit it exploded killing Ayla her father and Tom. Then Margaret and Joseph were arrested for killing all their friends on the trip .

From the beginning there were things happening, first the less participative people in the conversations and who were always distant were Margaret and Joseph except for Olivia who was the first to die, second they were blood brothers and they both suffered schizophrenia and this story above was what they told the police. And the two had even killed 47 more people.

#apartamentofhorror #horror #horror stories #fear

[vexing-imogen]

take a chance (roll the dice) 1/10

Vex/Beau “Lie to me, then.”

Beau can’t believe her luck.

Flung thirty years in the past by a spell gone wrong, stuck in some shithole town in Tal’Dorei until Caleb can find them a way back (if he can find them a way back). She’s supposed to be keeping her head down, not talking to anyone lest she accidentally say the wrong thing and change the future.

So of course the hottest woman she’s ever met just sat down next to her and offered to buy her a drink.

She’s a half-elf, with long dark hair braided back and darker eyes sparkling with mischief and expectation. “Well, darling,” she prompts. “Is that a yes or no on the drink?”

Fuck it she thinks. If Caleb gets to have his fun upstairs with his books, she can have this. “Sure, why not?” She gives her a very obvious once-over. “I’m Beau.”

“Vex.” She signals the barkeep, orders their drinks, then turns back to Beau. “You’re not from around here, are you Beau?”

Beau smirks, shakes her head. “What gave it away?”

Vex matches her smirk. “Your accent, darling,” she says. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard in Tal’Dorei.”

She shrugs. “Probably because I’m not from Tal’Dorei,” she says. “I grew up in Kamordah. Wildemount.”

Vex nods. “I’ve heard of it.” She takes a long drink. “So, what’s a girl from Wildemount wine country doing in Kymal of all places?”

Beau chuckles. “You wouldn’t believe the truth if I told you,” she says.

Vex bites her lip, leans in closer. “Lie to me, then.”

Beau swallows hard, is about to spill everything to this enchanting woman, when Caleb’s voice sounds in her head.

“Beauregard. I’ve found us a way home. Meet me in the alley outside.”

She sighs, downs the rest of her drink. “Sorry, I uh, I’ve gotta go,” she says, wincing. “Fuck. I swear to gods, it’s not you. You seem really cool, and you’re, like, super fucking hot, and I really don’t want to leave, but my friend is waiting for me, and uh...here.” She pulls out a few silver, sets it on the bar. “For the drink?”

Vex smiles sadly, pushes the silver back to her. “Keep it, dear. I’m the one that offered.” She takes Beau’s face in her hands, kisses her quick and dirty. “For the record, you’re also super fucking hot.” She winks, slams back the rest of her drink, and retreats upstairs leaving Beau stunned.

Fuck.

***

“What took you so long?” Caleb asks when she finally joins him.

She shrugs. “Nothing. Just finishing my drink.”

“Hm.” He’s quiet for a moment. “She’s old enough to be your mother.”

Beau snorts. “You say that like it would have stopped me.” She savors his brief moment of discomfort. “Anyway, you said you found us a way home?”

“Ja,” he says. “It’s actually quite simple. Whatever magic sent us here created a dimensional rift. All we have to do is find that tear, and we can use it as a portal back to our own time.”

“And I take it you found that rift?”

Caleb nods. “Ja, I did.”

“Dude, that’s awesome,” she says, punching his shoulder. “Where is it?”

“Ah, yes, well.” He sighs. “It is inside the lair of an ancient black dragon.”

#critical role #critfic #vex'ahlia #beauregard lionett #cr fic randomizer 2021 #the mighty nein #vox machina

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 12

Summary: Just a continuation from the last part

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @riverdaleserpent04 @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail @poguesnobx @gviosca

Part 11  Part 13 

===============================================

I came to a second later, the force of John B and I colliding together knocking both of us out. I looked and saw John B wasn’t moving, so I crawled over to him.

“Birdie?” I asked, no answer. I couldn’t think of anything else happening around me except making sure my baby brother was ok.

I flipped him around and saw a red stain on his left side. I panicked and leaned down to check if he was still breathing, and barely any breaths were leaving his mouth. Blood was pouring out of the wound, and I knew I needed to stop the bleeding.

“Someone help me!” I shouted. I saw the three men that attacked us take off, my friends running towards us

“John B!” JJ yelled.

“Oh fuck,” Pope said.

“Baby?” Sarah asked.

“JB!” Kie shouted.

I shoved my hand on his wound to stop the bleeding and it forced a shout from my brother. I sobbed out in relief, I told Pope to call an ambulance.

“Bubba?” my brother asked looking up at me.

“Yeah Birdie? I’m here” I said, tears rolling down my face, and my free hand taking one of his. I felt JJ putting his head on my shoulder, tears of his own wetting my skin. 

“I love you” he said, wheezing.

“I love you too Birdie, you’re going to be fine” I said. Looking at Sarah who was sobbing into Kie’s arms. 

“Where-Sarah-I” John B grunted out. 

“I’m here” she said coming to the other side of us and taking his other hand.

“Sarah, please take care of my sister....I love you so much” he said.

“You can’t leave me” Sarah said. My heart breaking at the sight of her sobbing into my brothers neck.

“You’re time’s not over yet JB...I’m not done annoying the shit out of you yet” I said, laughing through my tears. He smiled at me, squeezing my hand. 

“Pope hurry up man!” JJ shouted.

John B smiled before closing his eyes again.

“John Booker keep your eyes open, you gotta stay with us,” I slapped his cheek lightly, his eyes snapping open again.

“Can’t bubba, I’m so tired” he slurred.

“I know Birdie, help is coming just please hold on.” I said to him. 

John B took a deep breath, closed his eyes, exhaled and went completely still. My eyes widened as his hand went limp in mine. I leaned my head back on his chest and it wasn’t moving.

“JJ, he’s not breathing!” I screamed. 

“Oh my god, no!” Sarah wailed. 

“No, no, John B please wake up” I started hysterically crying. I shook my brother as hard as I could. 

“Baby,” JJ said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“Birdie, you can’t leave me!” I wailed out, laying my head on his still chest. I sobbed into my brothers chest, starting to breathe erratically from how hard I was cying. 

We heard the screeching of sirens and tires squealing. The paramedics coming over and telling us to move out of the way. I wasn’t registering anything other than my brother being dead. I shoved at them when they tried to move me. Then, JJ put his arms around my chest and pulled me away from him, moving us so we weren’t in the way. 

“NO! JJ!” I screamed, struggling against his hold. JJ held tight against me while the paramedics worked on him. He put his face right next to mine and whispered in my ear to calm down and let the paramedics do their job. They put him on a stretcher and rushed him to the ambulance. 

“Come on my love, we can meet them there” JJ said, lifting me in his arms and taking me to the van. 

At the hospital:

“Well, second time in three days I’ve been in this fucking waiting room” I said, pacing around the room.

Pope watching whatever was on the little television, Kie was holding Sarah who was still crying, and JJ staring at me. My heart was beating out of my chest, I was so scared something bad was going to happen to John B. Then I’d be completely alone...of course I have my friends, but of my biological family I’d have no one. 

“We have to do something about this fucking gold before we all get killed. I’m not losing anyone else.” I said shakily.

“Sweetheart, everyone that knows about it knows we have it. Even if we spend it they will still come after us.” JJ said.

“Maybe we could just tell someone where it is and let them have it?” Pope suggested. 

“Hell no, are you crazy?!” JJ yelled, smacking Pope over the head. 

“What if we cash it and go into hiding somewhere out of the country?” Kie asked.

“How did anyone even find out that we were the ones who found it?” I asked myself. Then a thought hit me.

My brother had been basically living with Sarah for the past few months and there’s no way someone didn’t over hear them. Or was Sarah doing this purposefully so her family could get the gold? My earlier concerns about her started flooding me, making me become overfilled with rage. 

“Did you telling your fucking Dad?!” I yelled accusingly at Sarah.

“What the hell?! Why would I do that?” Sarah asked, crying harder now.

“You didn’t want anything to do with John B until you knew we for sure found that gold.” I sneered. 

“How dare you?!” Sarah shouted, getting up from Kie and coming towards me. Everyone standing up in case there was a showdown.

“You never wanted to be a part of this family until you knew we were going to be filthy rich so you wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of being seen with a Pogue. Right Sarah? You can’t stand the thought of having to actually work for something and not having it handed to you.” I said staring into her eyes, my hands balling into fists at my sides. 

Sarah’s hand darted out and smacked me hard across the face, gasps coming from everyone. I charged at her, knocking us both to the ground. I swung my arm back and landed a punch right in her jaw. JJ yanked me off of her, forcing me out of the waiting room and into the hospital parking lot. 

“Get off of me JJ!” I yelled, pushing him once we got outside. 

“You need to cool it” JJ said sternly. 

“Are you serious right now?!” I exclaimed.

“This is not the time or place to be talking about that shit and you know it.” he said crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You know I’m right J” I said looking at my feet.

“Baby, we can deal with that later. We need to focus on John B right now.” JJ said.

“I’m so scared,” I whispered, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry again.

“Oh sweetheart, come here.” JJ said, walking to me and pulling me into his arms. 

I latched on to him and sobbed hard into his neck, throwing my arms under his and grabbing at the back of his shirt. He held my head in his hand, planting little kisses on my cheek and anywhere else he could reach.

“I can’t lose him JJ” I cried. 

“I know” JJ murmured into my hair.

JJ and I made our way back into the waiting room to find Pope, Kie, and Sarah’s parents there as well. Pope’s parents hugged me, telling me everything would be ok. I looked at Mr. C, he was such a kind and caring man. He helped me when no one else would. He’s been more of a father to me than my own actually was. I ran into his arms and he hugged me back tight. Kie and her mom enveloping us. 

“John Booker Routledge?” someone asked. 

I immediately went to them and followed them into the hall.

“Is he ok?” I asked, tears starting to well up again. 

“He was unresponsive when he first came in, but we managed to get him back. We had to do a very intense operation since the bullet nicked an artery, most people don’t survive that kind of injury. He’s very lucky to be alive.” the doctor said.

“Shit” I sighed out, crying in relief that my brother would be ok.

One week later:

“Can someone break me out of this shithole yet?” John B whined.

I was ready for him to be out as well, he was driving me insane with his constant complaining. I love my brother, and am so happy he is living and breathing. But the journey of this hospital stay, has made me more determined than ever to somehow get rid of this gold. 

“You’re being released today Birdie, I can’t wait to deep clean our shit house.” I said running my hands through my hair. “”I hate living with men” I sighed.

“That’s rude” my brother said.

“I take offense to that” JJ said, adjusting his hat.

“You all are literally so disgusting.” I said clapping my hands together.

“I clean up after myself!” JJ said. I looked at him, raising my brow.

“Babe yes I do!” he said laughing.

“Oh so are you talking about the time I literally threatened to cut your dick off if you left one more beer can in the floor?” I said, pretending to think about it. 

“You couldn’t make it without my dick” he mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest leaning back in the chair.

“JJ please stop talking about my sister and your dick” John B said. 

They finally released John B and we all piled into the van. I drove us home still fighting with the boys about them being more clean since I was the main bread maker in the household. 

“Bubba I’m in so much pain do I get a break from cleaning?” John B asked.

“This is the only time you get a pass JB. So babe, it’s me and you” I said looking over at JJ. 

“I love you” JJ said, looking at me lovingly.

“Don’t even start, you’re helping me” I said, knowing he was trying to sweet talk me. 

“Babe,” he sighed.

“No, most of that mess is you and John B. Our house is disgusting.” I said shaking my head.

“Oh my god fine only for you gorgeous.” JJ sighed, kissing my hand. 

“I’m going to throw up” John B groaned.

I laughed, taking a moment to think about the what ifs. If my brother hadn’t made it out, I would have been destroyed. We all would have been. John B is the heart of the Pogues. He kept all of us together, without him we wouldn’t be complete. Most of all, he was my best friend, and I know I couldn’t live without him. I would have given up on life completely if it wasn’t for him being around. He kept me going. He encouraged me to live life to the fullest. I would never have my life be any other way. 

==========================================

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #obx #obx netflix #obx fic #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx x you #obx jj maybank #obx jj #outer banks jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj x you #jj fic #jj imagine #outer banks angst #obx angst

[barrysjumpsuit]

blindsided - barry’s sister x rafe cameron (ch. 3)

part one, part two, masterlist

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cannabis use, cocaine use, physical and verbal abuse, underage drinking, anxiety/depression, mentions of sex, the whole nine yards tbh

synposis:  christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: things are starting to get good... I’m super excited to write the rest of this! got some wild shit coming up. read this for SOFT RAFE. (side note, the necklace part is 100% a marie thing that i do and wear. i studied moon snail predation on clams so HMU if you wanna learn abt the ecology of the long island sound) (also in this house we stan naturdays)

----

Rafe had listened to Christy’s begging when she was saying she wanted to go to the Boneyard separately from Topper and Sarah. They slipped out before the others were done getting ready, but Christy still couldn’t bring herself to relax. 

Her boyfriend was on edge too. They were silent as they drove south, Rafe eventually pulling off the road as they reached the trailer. Barry’s bike was gone from where it usually sat, and Christy was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. 

Rafe followed her into the trailer. It was weird seeing Rafe Cameron, so well put together, in her shithole of a home. He knew better to comment on the state of things, and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

“Come on and help me,” Christy said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall to her bedroom. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside before closing it. “You know how to pack cigarette joints?” 

“Can’t be too hard,” he said. Christy pulled out a mason jar of bud from her last harvest, along with two paper plates she kept for this exact purpose. 

“We’ll do all of them,” she said. “I have a couple already made.” 

Christy sat down on the bed next to Rafe. Their knees touched, the jar between them. She busied herself grinding the nugs, picking out the stems while Rafe started emptying the cigarettes of their contents. 

“You know,” Rafe said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve never smoked weed.” 

“Really?” Christy asked. She was genuinely surprised. “Y’know, they say it’s the gateway drug, and…” 

“Yeah, I went straight to the hard stuff,” Rafe said quietly. “It’s more of a… pogue thing.” 

“What, so we’re stereotyping drugs now? I’ve seen you drink Natty Light. That’s as pogue as alcohol gets.”

“Naturdays!” Rafe protested.

“As if that makes it any different.” Christy grinned and tapped the grinder to the paper plate that sat in Rafe’s lap. “You want to try?” 

Rafe nodded, and Christy looked up at him. There was something soft about him now, sitting in her bed in her shitty trailer. He hadn’t said anything about her living situation like he normally would. He hadn’t refused to help her. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Christy said quietly. He looked up at her, smiling softly. “We can wait until we’re there or until we leave. It’s up to you.” 

“What will it feel like?” he asked. 

“You really are clueless. We’ll wait until we’re away from the party, okay? This strain chills you the fuck out. It’s the only way I can sleep most nights.” 

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t know that. You always seem to fall asleep pretty easily.” 

Christy bit her bottom lip before answering, focusing on twisting her grinder. “It’s because I feel comfortable with you.” 

Rafe’s hand was suddenly cupping her cheek. He had moved the plate and his in-progress work to the bedspread and was leaning forward, perched on his knees. “Christy…” he murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to hers. “Really? You mean that?” 

“Yes,” was all she could say. She could smell his breath, his deodorant, his cologne. 

“You mean the world to me,” Rafe purred, moving his hand so it rested on the nape of her skull. “I love you so much. I’m glad we found each other.” 

“Me too,” Christy whispered, and Rafe’s lips were on hers. They were gentle, patient, and tender. The kiss made her feel safe, reciprocating what she had just confessed to him. 

Normally, Christy had a tough exterior. She was closed and blunt. People knew her for that, and even Barry commented on it. She didn’t know why Rafe of all people unlocked her as if he had a key, melting her heart and opening her up. It was true: she usually smoked herself to sleep every night. If she didn’t she would toss and turn into the early hours of the morning, and by then she would give up and go for a run or boat ride. Whenever she spent the night with Rafe, tucked into his bed and in his arms, her brain stopped worrying. It stopped running through endless scenarios, and she slept. 

Rafe was the one to pull away. He smiled gently at her. Some of his hair fell over his eyes, so Christy reached up to tuck it back where it belonged. “I love you, Rafe Cameron.” 

“I love you too, Christy,” he murmured back, kissing her once more on the forehead before sitting back down on the bed and picking up the paper plate again. 

The two of them packed a cigarette carton full of joints in half an hour. Before they left, she pocketed her bowl, a couple baggies with nugs, and JJ’s five grams. 

“This is a cute picture,” Rafe said as Christy stowed the last of the bud underneath her bed. They had used half of it prepping for the kegger. She looked up to the picture frame he was holding. 

The photo was of her and Barry. They were younger – Christy was fifteen and Barry was nineteen – and on the boat. They were holding a fish, a huge striped bass they had hauled in on light tackle. A shadow was cast over a corner of the picture, and Christy’s heart twisted. 

“You okay?” Rafe asked, and she just nodded. “What is it?” 

“My mom took the picture,” Christy said quietly, taking the frame from him. “This was one of the last memories I have of her before she killed herself. Like a week later.” 

“Oh baby…” Rafe put an arm around her, kissing the top of her head, and she leaned into him before putting the picture frame back on her dresser, face down. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Christy suggested, and she gently pushed Rafe out of her bedroom. She turned and relocked the door before pocketing the keys and walking down the hall. 

“Look who we have here! Rafe Cameron!” 

Christy froze at Barry’s voice. Rafe’s hand tightened around hers, to a point where it was almost painful. Barry was sitting on the couch in front of the coffee table, and she could tell he just did a line.

“You just can’t stay away, can you, boy?” Barry said, standing and sauntering over to them. Christy tried to push Rafe behind her, but he refused to budge. “You fucking my sister again? We’re going to have words.” 

“Barry, stop it!” Christy put her hands on Barry’s chest and shoved him, but he barely moved. “We’re together, okay? We were just stopping by to get some weed to sell.” 

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” Barry asked, dangling a baggie of cocaine in front of Rafe’s face. Christy could tell he was bristling with anger and doing everything he could to restrain himself from swinging a fist. “Right here, Country Club. She’s got your name on it. I miss your business, you know.” 

“Barry that’s enough!” Christy yelled, shoving herself between the two of them. “Rafe, let’s go.” She tugged on his hand, but Rafe remained rooted to the dirty carpet of the living room. 

Rafe didn’t say anything. He and Barry stood, staring at each other, both of them seething with anger. 

“I don’t want your fucking blow,” he finally said, turning, and storming from the trailer. 

“You’ve got yourself a keeper there, Chris,” Barry said, swinging the baggie. “A real winner.” 

“Fuck you, Barry!” Rafe yelled from the other side of the screen door. 

“Go. Sell your weed and fuck your kook. Fuck your kook in his mansion, eat his food, sleep in his bed. And leave me here.” 

Barry’s words followed her from the trailer. Rafe grabbed her and they hurried to the truck, getting in and peeling out of the yard. 

Rafe was quiet, and Christy knew what that meant. He was pissed. Christy couldn’t help but press herself against the door, making herself small. 

He didn’t pay much attention to her until a whimper made its way out of her mouth. She closed her eyes at the sound, knowing that Rafe looked over to her. “Oh, baby…” he said quietly. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched. 

Christy had seen Rafe angry before, plenty of times. He was the only person she had ever seen seriously take on her brother and make her fear for him. 

“Just… leave me alone, Rafe,” she muttered. 

“Christy, I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Rafe, just be quiet, please.” She opened her eyes to look at him. He looked shocked, his mouth slightly open. Christy looked away before closing her eyes again.

She felt him pull the truck over to the side of the road. “Christy,” he said again, softer this time. “Hey. Come here.” 

Rafe pulled up the center console and slid across the seat so that he could wrap his arms around her. Christy curled into him, trying to hold back tears but failing as Rafe’s fingertips started making lazy circles on her back. 

She wasn’t sure what she was crying about. Barry’s words rattled her. The whole exchange did. She knew Barry’s words were true. Christy had left him when things got tough. But she knew she couldn’t totally blame herself. He wasn’t doing much to help his situation.

Rafe encountering Barry was something she didn’t want to happen. But it did, and it was bad, but not as bad as she thought it was. Maybe it was best for them to get their anger out before she was deeper in the relationship with Rafe, and before it was more of a secret. It was bound to happen at some point. 

“I’m good,” she said, making a slight peace with her thoughts. Christy unburied her head from Rafe’s chest, rubbing makeup all over his face as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m okay.” 

“You still want to go to that party?” Rafe asked, leaning his cheek on the top of her head. 

“No,” she replied. “But I at least have to stop by. I’m selling someone some weed. It won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” he said. Christy felt him press a tender kiss to the top of her head before sliding back over in the seat and pulling back onto the road. 

The sun was about to set. As soon as Rafe parked near the Boneyard, Christy hopped out of his truck. She walked through the grasses and onto the beach, knowing exactly where JJ would be. He was manning the keg with John B, the hose in one hand, a beer in the other. Christy shoved through the crowd, consisting of mostly tourons, and slid up next to JJ. 

“Follow me?” she asked, and he wordlessly handed the hose to John B. 

“Hey, Christy, you okay?” JJ asked suddenly. Christy kept walking, but JJ continued. “You don’t look too good, dude.” 

“Thanks for pointing that out,” she snapped at him. They were still too close to the crowd for her to feel comfortable doing a deal of anything larger than a couple blunts. 

“I’m serious. Hey.” JJ reached out, grabbing her arm so that she faced him. “Is everything okay?” 

She just sighed. “Want to smoke a joint with me?” 

JJ was visibly confused, but he didn’t protest. They sat on a piece of driftwood, and Christy pulled out one of the cigarette joints she and Rafe had rolled earlier. She lit it, taking a few hits, before passing it to JJ. She waited a few minutes before speaking the first words. 

“I don’t know what in the fuck I’m gonna do, JJ.” 

She was surprised the words rolled out of her mouth like they did. Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the walls crumbling in her brain, wanting to push her old life behind her. 

“Care to elaborate?” JJ asked beside her.

“I’m dating Rafe Cameron,” she stated, knowing that JJ could put the pieces together. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised, furrowing his brow. “I didn’t expect that.” Before Christy could say anything, JJ’s eyes stretched wide, and he looked at her. “Oh. Holy shit. Does your brother know?” 

“We had our first encounter with him about an hour ago,” Christy replied, taking the joint back from JJ. 

“I take it it didn’t go well?” he asked, and Christy shook her head. 

“Nope,” she said, smoke coming out of her mouth. “Barry’s not having much business. Hasn’t been good ever since Rafe ghosted him. He won’t move his own product, he needs people to buy from him in bulk, which no one will do because Rafe told everyone he’s a crazy motherfucker. Right now it’s just a few close friends he has.” 

“Agatha probably didn’t help, huh?” JJ asked, and Christy just shook her head. “If anyone can get through it, it’s you, Christy. You’re pogue through and through.” 

“You don’t know me,” she said quietly, handing him the joint. Her eyelids were heavy and she pressed her palms into the smooth, soft surface of the driftwood. 

“I know enough. Anyone to have been through as much shit as you can get away from that situation. It takes one to know one, Christy.” 

She looked over at him. JJ was smiling softly, and she couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Here’s your weed,” she said, pulling the baggie out of her pocket. “Same strain you’re smoking now. You can finish the joint, too.” 

“Here’s your fifty,” JJ said, handing her two twenties and a ten. “Thanks for your business.” 

“And for yours,” she said, standing. JJ laughed as she had to catch her balance. 

“Hey Christy?” JJ called quietly as she turned to walk away. 

“Yeah, JJ?” 

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“You got it,” she said, turning away so JJ couldn’t see her smile. The two of them had always had a natural understanding of each other. It takes one to know one, as he said. It was true. 

Christy trudged up the beach and back into Rafe’s waiting truck. “You good?” he asked, and Christy nodded. 

“Let’s go get stoned.” 

---

Christy woke up before Rafe did. He was rolled towards her, an arm draped around her waist with his mouth slightly open. 

Rafe’s breath smelled of weed. She smiled to herself, remembering the events of the previous night. They had gone onto the Druthers, laying on the outside seats, and smoked. The strain Christy brought was her favorite indica. She usually smoked it before bed. It was the only thing that would shut her brain up. 

“This is nice,” Rafe said after a few hits. His eyes were soft under his hooded lids. “I like it. I feel good.” They were laying next to each other, feeling the boat rock gently beneath them. She was laying on his chest while Rafe gently threaded his fingers through her hair, occasionally scratching her scalp. 

Christy fell asleep like that. She only woke up once to Rafe carrying her down the dock; she murmured his name and tightened her grip as she felt him step onto the soft grass. He had to briefly put her down to open the door to the house, but he picked her up again and quietly ascended the stairs before pushing open his bedroom door and setting her down in his bed, sliding next to her and pulling the covers over them. 

That’s where they were now. Rafe Cameron’s bed. His grey pillowcases smelled like him, like cedar and seawater. It was an odd combination, but she liked it. 

Rafe had put her phone on the bed between them. The time read 5:32. Her shift started at 7, so Christy decided she could get away with a few more minutes of dozing. Her work apron was draped across a chair in Rafe’s room, and she could probably rewear the previous day’s clothes, which were piled on the floor next to it. 

Christy’s stomach rolled at two missed calls from Barry. He wasn’t a texter. He was a caller. Christy was a talker, hating phone communication and opting to talk to people face to face. She willed herself to push the thought of what he had to say until she would go home after her shift that afternoon. 

Rafe was still asleep by the time she left for work at 6:30. She kissed him gently before closing his bedroom door softly behind her and trying to leave the house undetected. 

On her walk to work, she smoked a cigarette, willing the brief high to wash away the thought of Barry, which lingered in the back of her head. Instead, she focused on the sound of the laughing gulls on the shore, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves as they reached the beach. The crunch of her shoes on the gravel shoulder of the road, of the sound of cars driving by her, of the voices greeting her as she passed houses. 

Work was busy with tourists, rebounding back to the island after the hurricane. The hotels had power again, and she talked to her guests about what they had been up to. She liked hearing their stories: what drew them to the OBX, where they came from, who they were. One young couple had just gotten engaged the day before. One table seated an older couple, travelling down the east coast from Connecticut looking for seashells, and asked her the best spots. 

“At low tide, the west side of the island is the best,” she suggested, topping off their coffees and putting another handful of prepackaged creamer on the table next to their mugs. “The sound makes it shallower, so there’s lots of critters living there. More intense wave action on the east side will wash some up but they’re usually pretty banged up.” 

“That’s a neat necklace,” the woman pointed out. Christy picked up the pendant, smiling. “Did you find that?” 

“This? Oh, thanks. I love it. My mom found it.” She couldn’t help but smile at the couple, and at the memory. She pulled it off to hand to the woman. “It’s from a moon snail. The hole is a drill hole, see how regular it is on the edges? Moon snails are predatory, they’ll drill into whatever they can. Usually clams and other snails. Even other moon snails. Like this one here.” Christy pointed out the perfectly rounded hole. 

“Did you find it here?” the man asked. 

“Nah I’ve found some here though. They’re everywhere. I found this one at Edisto Island near Charleston. You guys should definitely check it out, it’s the best shelling beach I’ve ever been to.” 

The couple tenderly looked at each other. “That’s where we got married,” the woman said. “Thirty five years ago. That’s one of our next stops.” 

“It’s a special place, that’s for sure,” Christy said, smiling. Mr. Carrera’s voice sounded through the restaurant, calling out her name. “Is there anything else I can get you two?” she asked. The couple shook their heads, and she turned to make her way to the counter. 

“I’ve got a big to go order just called in,” he said, scribbling on a notepad. “Can you and Kiara make sure everything makes it into the right containers for them, and then help load it up?” 

“Sure thing, Mr. C,” she replied. They were at an odd time of the day – they were still serving breakfast, but had just opened up orders for their lunch menu. Since it was a Sunday, the place was packed with brunchers, and her section was full, keeping her mind occupied. 

The shelling couple left her a hefty tip and a sweet note on the receipt. Maybe she would see them on her walk home at the beach she told them about. 

“JJ told me about you and Rafe,” Kiara said as they were packing to-go containers into plastic bags as the orders were finished. 

“You gonna warn me about him?” Christy asked flatly, almost disinterested. It sounded bitchy of her, but she knew Kiara cared about her. 

“Just… be careful.” Kiara replied quietly. “If you ever need a buffer or place to crash away from them… let me know. Okay?” 

Christy looked at Kiara, surprised. “Thanks, Kie,” she smiled. It was nice knowing there was someone looking out for her, even if they weren’t extremely close. 

The rest of her shift went by quickly and effortlessly, but as she closed out and began walking him, she was smacked in the face with reality. Barry would be waiting for her, without a doubt. She also realized she hadn’t gotten any texts from Rafe. It was two in the afternoon. Surely he would be awake and wanting to talk to her, right? 

Christy walked along the beach, her shoes shoved into her backpack. She saw their boat tied to their dock, the trailer just up the shore from it, and she started towards the trailer. Barry was laying on a couch outside. It was nasty – they usually just draped a tarp over it whenever it rained. 

After mentally preparing herself for this interaction all day, she was surprised to see Barry grinning at her, calling out to her giddily.

Christy could tell he wasn’t high, but sober. His mood plus his mental state didn’t make sense

Something had happened.

----

fun stuff to come in the next few chapters! shit’s about to hit the fan ;)

taglist (msg or ask for an add!)   @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @ims0golden @ampanonyg @hoeforpankow @jjsmentalpolaroids @drewstarkey @obbx-tings @bricksatanakinswindow

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #kiara carrera #john b #john b routledge #john booker routledge #pope heyward #drew starkey

[vtscasefiles]

Case File # 321-5

Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence, death, firearms, injury, rape mention

Case begun: 5/09/20**

Case Concluded: 5/11/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Florida

Marked as Closed

I arrived in Florida, the humidity already fucking with my sinuses. How anyone can live in this swampy shithole I will never understand. But I was offered a job, and my bank account was practically beating me over the head with it’s need to be filled. The pay was too good to turn down, so I loaded up my gear and headed out.

What I wasn’t expecting was a fucking ghost pirate. I mean, of all things, how fucking cliché can you get? The client, Rosie [REDACTED], welcomed me with that famed “southern hospitality” that I’ve heard so much of.

“You the girl with the gun? I expected you to be bigger.”

Fuckin’ peachy. “Yes. I’m the girl with the gun. You got a haunting problem?” I replied, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. I’m fucking 5′9″. I’m not that small. For fuck’s sake, I can bench two hundo with no problem. Why the -- 

[Editor’s note: this continues for fifteen minutes. For your convenience I have removed VT’s rant.]

After getting a brief rundown of the case, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Everything pointed to a simple haunting, it wasn’t something I was considering a challenge, or even something that’d take longer than a few hours.

After doing this job, you think you’ve seen just about all the SC* has to offer. My two best friends are a lich and a witch. Yes, they rhyme, shut up. Point being is that I have never seen a haunting manifest on such a massive scale. Usually it’s restrained to a building, or a patch of land, but this...the whole fucking coast line was haunted. It wasn’t even a Cluster**, it was one. Singular. Spirit.

My first day, as the usual, was spent at the library. The spirit in question, one Captain Fresni, was an infamous pirate in the seventeen hundreds. Played a role in the American Revolution, albeit a small one. According to the books I’d found (mostly useless, but I did manage to glean some insight), his ship The Crooked Jess, was riddled with canon fire by the British. Captain Fresni, a violent fighter if ever there was one, realized there was no way out...lit every barrel of gunpowder he had on board and rammed his ship into the oncoming fleet. The following explosion wiped out three ships, packed with soldiers and set fire to another six.

I was impressed. If the spirit was Captain Fresni, as Rose claimed, then it could simply be a case of the body dying so suddenly and violently that the spirit didn’t realize he was dead. There was one passage that stood out, I won’t repeat it due to it being hella long, but in summation it stated that near the southern tip of Florida there was a hidden cove that served as the pirate captain’s base. Might as well start there.

It was around 9pm on the tenth before I even stepped foot in the cove. Immediately, the air changed. Despite it being disgustingly humid, the air turned frigid and dry. I walked up and down the coast to find a spot that wasn’t freezing, but to no avail. The whole place was a spook zone. We’re talking a good three hundred acres of land completely under the spirit’s influence. Even by a Cluster’s standards, that’s a massive area.

This area was mostly undisturbed, being a historical site. Being in the profession I am, meant that didn’t mean a roasty pile of dogshit. If I got caught disturbing anything here, it only meant one thing: prosecution, if not a bullet through my head. I’m aware of what my ethnic background means; prejudice, racism, outright hate. Hell, it’s dangerous to drive, let alone stand somewhere that I shouldn’t. So I try to be subtle. Try not to pack too much ordinance. Today I only had my duffel bag full of Elinor’s*** special ammo. I’d say it “kills” ghosts, but you can’t kill a spirit. You can however, force it to reconcile with it’s past.

The worst part about this job was I was going to wind up in the water. I hate swimming. Forget what chlorine does to the dye in my hair (red. Blood red. Always.), but just the thought of driving across the country with my clothes soaked in salty water was already putting my teeth on edge. Looks like I’d be hitting a thrift shop on the way home.

I dropped my duffel bag on the beach and sat in the sand next to it, pulling off my dad’s old combat jacket and stowing it inside. I did a quick inventory. I hadn’t brought anything major. Salt. Blessed water (courtesy of Ramona****). A black beeswax candle and, my trusty companion, Peace.

Peace is the name I’ve given to my custom-made revolver. All together, the setup weighs about three pounds. Each part bears a custom engraving that’ll combat just about any supernatural force...even so, there are some things that Peace can’t solve...even with the right ammo. But I had one solution sitting in the backseat of my car: a can of kerosene. If bullets don’t solve the problem, a liberal application of fire will.

The time was midnight, the opening of the “Witching Hour”. I had until 3am to get something. Anything. The spirit wasn’t answering to any of the usual callouts (their name, questions, requests for an audience), so I settled in on the beach to doze. Wasn’t much else to do.

Mother fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

When I woke up, it was to the freezing cold iron around my wrists. The bob and weave that told me I was on the sea. The air smelled of something...something that every fucking time I smell it, I almost lose my lunch.

Corpses.

The deck outside my cell was slick with blood and viscera. I’ve seen my share of gore, don’t get me wrong, but this was a massacre. What was worse...it looked (and smelled) fresh. The good captain had been busy, it’d seemed. What began as a simple haunting was quickly turning into something more sinister. Rosie hadn’t mentioned that the spirit was violent...though I should have assumed, given the amount posted on the job. Even still, this was...a little more than I’d prepared for.

But first there was the matter of the shackles on my wrists.

Lockpicking is an artform that every PE invests time in learning. But that’s usually deadbolts or doors made post 1970. The manacles on my wrists (though they looked brand new) were easily something seen in the eighteenth century. There was even a maker’s mark next to one of the keyholes. I’ll spare you the details on how I got out, but my thumbs ache to all hell.

The second I laid hands on the bars to my cell, they swung open...I’d never been locked in. This worried me. The spirit wanted me free...the manacles were just a precaution. Each step I made was met with the squishy splort of combat boot on viscera. I took my time, as I didn’t relish the thought of slipping and falling into the mess beneath my boots. Proud to say that I didn’t fall. Not once.

[Editor’s note: judging by the stains on VT’s clothes, she fell.]

As far as I could tell, I was on the lowest deck. The stairway didn’t lead up into the fresh air of day, but rather into what I assumed was a galley. Tables and benches had been scattered, and cooking implements rusted on their hooks. Dangling from one of those hooks was my firearms...just waiting for me.

I expected a trap, I anticipated the trap. By that I mean I picked up a piece of busted bench and hurled it at my gun. It fell off the hook with a loud clatter which had me willing myself to fade into the shadows. Nothing. Nothing but the creak and groan of the ship.

Well, I say nothing, but I distinctly heard laughter from the top deck. Feminine, bright laughter. I picked my gun up off the floor, holstered it and climbed the stairs.

There was no ghost crew, as I’d anticipated...but at the helm was a sight that still gives my heart a jolt. It’s no secret that I’m gay. I love women. But what I saw at the helm...fuck me, sideways. She was tall. 6′6″ if she was an inch. Her raven hair captured the moonlight and practically sucked it in. Her breasts were bared to the wind, heavy tattoos that seemed to glow covered just about every inch of bared flesh. I’d have thought her living if not for one thing: her eyes. Pitch black like the void.

“Ahoy, mate.” she purred, setting my teeth to clench. “Found you on my little hideaway, snoozin’ like an infant. Come to join Captain Fresni’s crew, little pet?”

“I ain’t your pet.” I snapped, glowering up at the spirit. “You’ve been killing people, Captain...and everything I’ve read says that you’re a man. Are you actually Captain Fresni, or is that just some title you picked up?”

“Funny how men’ll give the most vicious fighters a cock in death that they never had in life, hm?” the pirate snickered. I took notice then that her arms were like two thick pythons that, any other time, I’d like to see just how much weight they could hold. “I offered my services to old Georgie and he thought me funny. At least until I broke his nose.”

“Georgie? As in Washington?”

“Ye know of him? Interesting. He refusing the afterlife, too?”

Everything I’d assumed about this spirit was wrong. Captain Fresni wasn’t a man, for one. Not to mention she knew very well that she was dead. That still didn’t answer the most pertinent question on my mind. “The bodies...or what’s left of them. Was that you?”

“Aye.” she smiled, wickedly, but offered no further explanation. I was being baited.

“Can I ask why?”

“Ye just did.” a hard spin of the wheel almost sent me tumbling. “But I suppose I can oblige a pretty little thing like you.” I fucking hate being demeaned. And all attraction for this undead bitch was flying out the window faster than you could say “eat my ass”. 

I can’t remember most of her explanation. Looking back, now...it’s like the whole of that night is just a drunken fever dream. What stands out to me is her reasoning. “I only murder the dregs, girlie. Rapists, mostly. Kidnappers. Violence done to women is met with brutal retaliation. It’s the simplest way to clean up this world, savvy?”

Oh, I was savvy. Quite savvy. If anything, I agreed with her and her method. Trash like that shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone exist. “If that’s all you’re doing, Cap, then I see no reason we shouldn’t go our separate ways. You have your work and I have mine.”

“Aye? And just what is your work, lovely?” I didn’t detect any further demeaning playfulness...only curiosity.

“I’m a PE. A Paranormal Eliminator. Usually, I’d have to ask or make you pass on, but as it stands...I think we can say live and let live. Well...live and let un-live.” she’d laughed at that. A warm sound that had my guts twisting around my stomach like some sort of horny serpent.

“So, you came out all this way to end the dread Captain Fresni...only to find a kindred spirit, is that what I’m hearing?” she asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a Glasgow grin. “And now you want to leave, just like that. Don’t a get a kiss or a nice romp? I think I’m owed something after all. I didn’t kill you for trespassing.”

That raised my hackles. Again, this pillar of muscle was underestimating me. What I’d fought, what I’d killed. For fuck’s sake, I’ve killed enough Wendigos to put half the men in my profession to shame. There was that weird case where the woman who hired me was fucking the Wendigo, but...that’s another story for another time.

[Editor’s Note: We’ve never discussed the Wendigo-coitus case. I sincerely want to hear it.]

“Fuck you. You got the drop on me, like a coward.” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. I was on her ship and at her mercy. She could sink this ship and I had no idea which way shore was...let alone the hazards that went with swimming in open water.

Instead she’d only laughed. “Little girl, I’m a pirate. I’ve no intent to fight head on when I can sneak up on someone. Honor is a man’s game. It’s what gets them killed, more often than not.” Again, I agreed. I’d put enough bullets in the back of a head to know that stealth is preferable than a face-to-face fight.

“Look, I lost my temper. Can we just...end this and I can go home? We both agree on your method, and I see no reason to stop what you’re doing. Sure, the “authority” of the living world won’t like it...but no one likes them, so they can eat a steaming pile of shit.” I said, frowning. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to get paid and go home.”

The look about the spirit changed, marginally. The tattoos seemed to be rippling along her flesh(?) and her smile faded into a frown. “Missy, we still have a glaring problem we’ve yet to address. I’m one woman...and I need a crew. So, unless you’ve got a solution to that particular snag, you’re it.”

All my like for this spirit (begrudging as some of it was) vanished in an instant. “So I’m being kidnapped.” I responded, feeling my heart start to hammer in my ears. “Just like those men you killed. So, what I’m hearing is, you’re no better.”

“Watch your words, girl. Your pretty face won’t save you from my blade.” she’d snarled. It took all that was in me not to balk, though my teeth desperately wanted to chatter.

“I’m using your own words against you, Captain.” I responded, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “Don’t blame me if they don’t line up the way you want.”

“One more word out of you -- “

“I’ll give you two: get. Fucked.” that had torn it. The rippling gave way to something that I’d come to expect. This was no run of the mill spirit: Captain Fresni was either a wraith or a revenant. The only real difference between the two was the level of violence capable. A wraith tends to hunt one person, or their family. A revenant hunts whoever they want...and now I was on the list. I couldn’t fight her here, not out in the open. She’d tear me to shreds. Already her jaw was gaping, revealing razor teeth. Her nails, cut short, were lengthening into something akin to talons...and believe me when I say those things hurt. 

I feel no shame in saying I sprinted below deck and ducked into the galley proper. I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t just killing people, she was eating them. Body parts, half chewed, dangled from the ceiling and littered the ground. My hand clapped over my mouth and nose to keep the smell out and my dinner in. I heard her footsteps and, as silently as I could manage, I checked my firearm. Peace was still locked, cocked and ready to rock. Well, not cocked. Gun safety, kids.

I pulled one of Elinor’s special bullets out of the cylinder. What made these so special is that, instead of lead, bone served as the projectile. The easiest way to deal with something dead is by using something dead against it. I don’t ask where Elinor gets her bone, and I think I’ll be perfectly happy to continue not knowing.

[Editor’s note: I know. It’s horrific.]

“Little pet, little pet, where are you?” she crooned. Well, I say crooned...more like...rattled. A revenant’s physiology is strange, but once they reveal their form it’s almost as if their bodies begin to decay. I peeked around the corner to see her back facing me. I took aim and...nothing. My gun clicked loud enough to sound like a scream in an empty hallway, but no roar of igniting gunpowder. She turned and...smiled. I think. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I responded, standing on shaking legs. “Soup’s on, Captain.” she ran at me, talons held out at her sides like sabers. I did the only sane thing I could think of: I ducked as she swung. Luckily, the big swing didn’t hit me. Unluckily, she had another hand. Claw. Whatever.

So, there I was, a talon embedded in my shoulder and blood gushing from the wound like a waterfall. A little known fact about revenant wounds: leave the talon in. If it’s withdrawn the wound will immediately fester and become gangrenous. A lot of PEs have died that way.

I slammed the barrel of my gun against the base of her claw and it snapped off. She screamed her pain and rage and took another swipe at my torso. I barely managed to get far enough back in time. The fact I had to compensate for a long talon still imbedded in my shoulder didn’t mean much, as I was operating off a cubic fuckload of adrenaline. She did however manage to shred my tanktop. Which sucked, because I loved that thing. Said “Boss Ass Bitch” on it and everything...I guess I could see if Ramona would make me another one...

[Editor’s note: RIP tank top. Ramona is making another one at the time of writing.]

I sprinted past her, she’d over balanced and given me time to escape. I went down, back to the cells. I was soaked in a cold sweat by now and thankful that my hair tie had held, despite my panicked movement. I smoothed the strands away from my sweat soaked face and looked for a place to hide. Nothing was presenting itself...but an idea struck. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. I ran into a cell and pressed my back to the wall.

When Fresni reappeared, she was smiling. “Ran out of room to run, little rat?”

“Seems that way.” I panted. My head was spinning from the loss of blood. Thankfully, that brief moment I spent pressed against the wall had redoubled my courage...and helped me remember one little fact. “Look, Cap...I’m dead. We both know it. The second this talon is removed, my life is over...so...I guess I’m askin’ if that place on your crew is still available.”

That shocked her, if only for a moment. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“No lie. Kill me now. I’d rather just go ahead and get it over with, thanks.” I said, praying that this would work. If it didn’t well...you wouldn’t be seeing this, would you?

She approached, brandishing those eight inch talons. She clicked them together, thoughtfully. “Stand still, then.” she snarled as I held my breath. “One through the heart, and it’s all over.”

Three more steps. Two. One. I stepped in and latched onto her arm, and...I bit down. I felt fetid blood fill my mouth and choke me. I immediately began to gag and then...voided my stomach, all over my aggressor.

A revenant’s true power isn’t from the change they make, though it definitely looks it. A revenant is best known for it’s insidious way of making the unreal real...so long as its concentration remains undisturbed.

When I finally finished tossing my cookies, I looked up. No ship in sight. Just a revenant, me and glorious land. The sand was disturbed, probably from all my running, and my blood left trails showing my passage. I’d been running in circles for the last hour...while she just watched.

“Shouldn’t play with your food.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “It’s how you get killed.” she screeched in rage, her partially coagulated blood oozing from the bite mark I’d left. The talon was still lodged in my shoulder. I reached for my gun, ready to put an end to this only to pull out... “A fucking banana? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

She roared and charged. My weapon, my baby was strapped to the rotten leather of her belt. She’d touched it. No one touched my weapon except Ray***** and myself. Not even Ramona. 

That pissed me off in a way that nothing else does.

Naturally, I charged straight for her. She took a swipe with her injured arm, but instead of dodging out of the way, I leapt into it. She made contact, but only with her palm. I felt one of my ribs crack and gasped in pain, pure instinct was the only thing that drove my fist into the shredded flesh on her arm, courtesy of my teeth. She balked and I snatched.

Peace was in my hand, albeit barely. She noticed and lunged again, sending us both into the sand. Her pirate nature showed in the way her head collided with my nose, sending fresh gouts of blood over the both of us. She thought me stunned. An easy kill. She thought wrong.

“Any last words, my pretty?” she cackled, her maw open wide. She wasn’t just going to kill me...I’d pissed her off enough that she was going to bite me. My death wouldn’t just be painful, but slow...and my soul would erode right along with my body.

“Yeah.” I croaked, feeling the end of my stamina quickly approaching. “Choke on it.” I rammed Peace as hard as I possibly could into that gaping maw, hearing her gargle in rage around it. My wrist jerked as I fired once, twice, three times. Bam. Bam. Bam. A faint gargle, a twitch...and about two-hundred pounds collapsed on right on my cracked rib, finishing the job her arm had started and broke the damned thing.

I wheezed beneath the re-corpse for...ten, fifteen minutes? When I finally managed the strength to push her off of me, I immediately emptied the last three rounds into the ruined mess of her skull. Say what you will about my methodology, but I like to be thorough. 

It wouldn’t have done just to leave her body there, for a mundane to see. The SC likes it’s secrecy and to risk exposing it? There was no faster way to end a career than to leave a loose end behind. I made the long trek back to the car and returned with the kerosene can. I stood by the raging fire until there was nothing but ash and blackened bone...though I know a certain lich who could make use of revenant bone.

All in all, a happy ending. Had a vampire doc fix up my shoulder to avoid dying of infection. Rosie paid me what I was owed and Elinor bought the bone off of me for further profit. Sure, my shoulder still hurts so damned bad that I can barely lift it, but...thanks to Ramona, it’ll be healed up in no time. Probably.

Yo-ho-ho, mother fucker. Case closed.

Editor’s farewell: This is the first case file VT asked I upload. It’s one she’s particularly proud of and one with a satisfactory ending. There may be names or terminology that you are unfamiliar with, but I have taken the time to star each of them as to explain. They are as follows:

SC*: Supernatural Community. This is self explanatory. Includes all beings, regardless of death, undeath or birth. IE vampires, ghosts, revenants, werewolves

Cluster**: A colloquial term amongst PEs. Used in reference to a small locale with a massive collection of spirits. Usually all working as a coordinated group.

Elinor***: Elinor Lyktor. Lich. Proprietress of Ellie’s, a shop frequented by PEs for their gear. Specializes in Osteomancy.

Ramona****: Ramona Torrez. Witch. A close friend of VT’s. Offers support, healing and consultation. A good 75% of VT’s equipment is blessed by Ramona.

Ray*****: Raleigh Kane. Gunsmith. Took the name Ray from her father, proprietress of Ray’s Armory. Forced into the Supernatural Community by VT during a case. Since, she has dedicated her craft to making weapons to deal with the malignant forces that threaten the community as a whole. Extensively researches customers and will not sell her works to those she does not trust.

#tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: gun play #tw: gun violence #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: dark content #tw: rape mention #horror #pirates #ghosts #VTverse #writing #OC

[andrew2luv]

OBX: An Outer Banks Story (Season 1 - Episode 1)

“Hey! Wake up! You’ve gotta be at work in 20!” Her shouts annoy me as they do every morning.

“I’m awake!” I shout back, already dressed for work and sitting in my bed, staring at the small crack on the wall.

After a minute I finally force myself to my feet and walk downstairs. I quickly try to pass the kitchen and out the side door, but Grams sees me and gives me a look.

“Love you.” I walk over and hug her as she chops her herbs.

“Love you too. Have a good day at work.”

I walk out and immediately hop onto my bike. As I do the same ride I’ve been doing every day for the past two weeks, I continue watching the people of this town. There are those people who are running around like mad dogs, just trying to stay afloat. Then the people walking around like they know something no one else does. Then my favorite people of the OBX, those who own it and know it. They intrigue me more than the rest. They put their noses up at the rest of us, yet if you look close enough you realize that their lives are just as fucked up as ours.

“Hey. New kid!” The shout distracts me as I bike up to the country club and I fall off my bike. “Damn!” 

“Fuck!” I shove the bike off my legs, noticing the scraps and blood beginning to drip.

“Dude, you okay?” The same girl that shouted my name before runs up to me, offering a hand.

“I’m fine.” I get up and notice her, she’s my age, shorter than me, and wearing an apron.

“You sure? You’re bleeding.” 

“Yeah. I’ve had worse.” I pick my bike up and start walking it to the bike rack with her.

“Sure. Okay. I’m Taylor. I work with the pastry chef.”

“Parker. Busboy.” I lock my bike in. “Why were you yelling for me?”

“Oh. Yeah. You’re needed to help at the bar today.”

“Okay.”

“It’s a busy weekend. You’ll probably be there till Monday.”

“Okay.” We walk in together.

“Is that the only word you know?” She steps in front of me, smiling a weird amount.

“No.”

“Okay.” I laugh at that and she smiles.

“Sorry. I’m just not a morning person. Or a person person.”

“Well, that’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be your type of person soon enough.”

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles and turns down another hall. “See you later Busboy.”

“How was work?” Grams is hovering by the backdoor when I arrive. “Make any friends today?”

“Nope.” I go over to the fridge and grab a water bottle before I notice she’s dressed up. “What’s going on?”

“My friend’s throwing a little game night. I’ll be gone pretty late. There’s money in that jar for pizza or whatever.” The Winnie the Pooh cookie jar just stares at me.

“Sure. Have fun.” 

“You too.” She says as I walk upstairs.

I didn’t sleep a minute last night. Well, I actually did, but maybe forty minutes tops. I had fallen asleep until I had the worst dream. I dream that brought me back to one of the worst moments in my life. It just kept repeating. The scream. The grab. The Fire. The beeping. Over and over. Over and over. Over and over.

Then I snapped out of it. Sat straight up in my bed, sweating. The sad thing is… I wish I could say it was the first time or even the tenth. And as I did the other times, I sat and played sudoku on my phone. I played it over and over until the sun rose. Once the sun was up I took a quick shower and left the house on my bike.

I’ve been biking for nearly two hours and am pretty sure I’m lost. I’m somewhere next to the water. There are a few boats tied up, but not much else around. It’s quite beautiful though. I’ve never taken a real moment to notice how nice the water looks. And how perfect the sun shines on it. And for just a second my mind goes blank. The sound of the wave goes through my head.

“Hey. What the fuck are you doing on this dock?” I nearly fall on my ass when I hear the voice and turn to see someone on a nearby boat.

“What?” I just starting to snap out of my daze.

“Private. Property.” I can’t really see the guy with the light in my eye, but I take the note and start walking back.

I got to the club early for my shift so they let me get some extra hours. The bar has been crowded all afternoon. I’ve realized the bar area is filled with four different types of people since I first started. The first are the men who sit at the counter and drink for hours. They’re harmless, but really like to talk. The second type are the group of men that come after they’ve played golf and now want to discuss business. They’re usually quite rude, but they tip a darn good amount. The third type are the men that bring women far younger than them who are clearly not their wives. They are the type that prefers very little attention to them, but really want to impress the women they’re with. The fourth and final type of people that come to this bar is the group of teenage boys who think they are entitled to drinks because their daddy’s pay far too much to get them in. They are the type that truly drives me insane. They try over and over to get what they want, then threaten to get my boss or their parents.

Speaking of which… just about five minutes ago this group of four teenage boys walked in and took a table. They’ve been chatting, laughing, and looking over at the bar. 

And now one of the boys, one with slicked-back brown hair and wearing a bright-colored shit with cache shorts. He’s smirking and looking way too confident.

“Hey.” He takes a seat on a stool.

“Hey. What would you like?”

“Just four rum and cokes.”

“Four cokes?”

“Umm… no. Rum and cokes.”

“I.D.?”

“Well I left it in my office, but ask anyone, I’m a regular here.”

“Well... “ He smiles, thinking he’s about to get what he wants. “No I.D., no drinks.” I walk over to another person and top off their drink.

I start cleaning up and the boy is still sitting there, watching me. He seems intent on me. Watching. Smiling. Then looking back at his friends and laughing every once and a while. He waits a few minutes before he speaks again.

“It’s you!” He snaps like he knows something.

“What?”

“You’re the kid that was on our docks this morning.” Wait… that was him? “You were standing there like some kind of idiot.”

“Anything else you need sir?” I can feel my blood starting to heat up.

“I should’ve realized you we’re some poor Pogue. You probably live in some shithole with your alcoholic mother and father who beats you around for the fun of it.”

It hits me. Hits me hard. I can feel my blood going from zero to a hundred. My fists tighten, nails digging into my palms. I being picturing the things I could do to him. I could grab a glass and shove it in his face. I could grab him by his hair and shove his head into the counter. But my favorite thought right now is grabbing him by his hair and dragging him across the bar and throwing him into the hundreds of bottles before stomping my foot into his ribs and shattering a large bottle of tequila in his face.

But I don’t do any of that. I stare him straight in the eyes. I put all my anger into my eyes and let him feel it. At first, he stares back, but after thirty incredibly long seconds, he blinks. He puts on this fake laughter and steps off his stool.

“Come on guys, let’s go. It’s boring here.” They all walk out together.

I quickly walk to the main bartender.

“I’m taking my break. Be back.” I speed out of the bar.

I make my way down the halls of the club. Through the back exit and where most of the workers hang. I step through the few workers hanging out and around the corner. I immediately face the wall and punch it. I regret it the second I swing my arm, but at that point, there’s no going back. I immediately want to scream, but hold it in.

“Parker?” I jump out of my skin as Taylor turns the corner. “Oh shit!” She runs up to me as she sees the blood dripping down my fist.

“I...I…” I begin finding it hard to breathe. “It’s… it’s… al…”

“It’s okay. Shhhh.” She takes the apron off and wraps it around my hand.

“But… I can’t… I can’t breathe!” My chest is tightening and everything begins to get a bit hazy.

“Parker,” Taylor grabs my face and looks me in the eyes. “Focus on my eyes.”

“But…”

“Focus on them,” She’s stern. “What color are they?”

“Blue.” 

“What’s my name?”

“Taylor.” Things begin to loosen.

“Where are we?”

“Hell.” That makes Taylor laugh, then I do as well.

“Not technically wrong.” 

“Thanks.” I start to feel normal, if I was ever normal to begin with. 

“No problem.” She helps me to my feet.

“It’s just not my day. This kid came in…”

“You don’t need to tell me. I understand.” I take a look at my hand. “I’ll go and get some bandages.” She turns to walk away.

“Taylor. Thank you. Really.”

“What else are friends that you’ve known for 24 hours for?”

“I don’t know, depends if they happen to bring me back a cookie.”

“Oh, really?” We both laugh as she walks away.

I turn around and lean against the wall. I take a deep breath in and run my hands through my hair. Then I look forward and that kid from the bar is standing in the parking lot. He notices me and smiles. Then he waves before hopping onto his motorbike. He looks to me once more, that grin digging into my skull. I flip him off and that only seems to make him smile more. He rides off and before I know it I find myself getting hard as I watch him ride off.

“Damn.”

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #john b #john booker routledge #pope obx #kiara outer banks #kiara obx #original characters #jj outer banks #rafe outer banks #sarah outer banks #john b outer banks #teen drama #teen angst #teen romance #gay drama #gay angst #gay romance #lgbtq #violence #angst #drama #fanfiction #fanfic #original story #ptsd

[dethshit]

Rocking Around The Christmas Tree

Dec 13th: Your Favorite Holiday Tradition Dethklok Style

Toki practically vibrated in place, shifting from foot to foot as he waited impatiently for everyone to come into the living room of Mordhaus. It had taken him hours, hell, days of begging, pleading, whining and complaining to anyone within earshot but he finally got his wish. 

He was going to decorate the massive Christmas tree he had pestered Offdensen into buying with his family. 

The massive evergreen tree smelled of artificial pine and stood tall, so very regal despite the macabre décor. It was custom made and probably cost more money than most people could dream of touching. It was bolted down to the floor by an iron base to keep it from wobbling. 

The black tree skirt had been Toki’s personal choice, decorated with white skulls with splatters of red and green glittery pools that looked shockingly close to blood. It wasn’t the only thing he had a hand in. He had helped prepare the massive star to adorn the top of the tree. It was made from stainless steel painted black with fourteen sharp points to symbolize everyone important in his life. There was one for each member of the band (he had reluctantly included himself to make it an even number), one for Murderface’s partner Noni, two for Charles and his partner, three for Abigail and her partners, one for Knubbler, one for Mashed Potato Johnson and even one for Magnus. The center had a red gem that Toki was told was some super expensive ruby from a far off land he never heard of but he loved the shine. He even convinced the creators to put a set of lights around the ruby that would twinkle cheerily. 

He hugged the star tightly, ignoring the bitter cold of the metal and the jab of the ruby against his face and chest. 

“Tokis? What ams yous doings?” He turned to Skwisgaar with a massive smile before running over and grabbing the blonde’s hand. 

“Skwisgaar, yous ams just in times! Theys brought de stars!” He yanked him to the black star, Skwisgaar falling over his feet from the amount of strength Toki used. “Sees? Offdensens lets me makes the stars with the helps of the blacksmiths and the makers and it has a points for everyones!” 

Skwisgaar wrenched his hand away, rubbing his sore wrist as he looked up at the star. “Oh, yeahs?” He asked dryly, bored with no one else around but the hyperactive Norwegian. 

Toki nodded excitedly. “The tops ams Offdensen and to his rights ams Akitas. To his lefts ams Noni. Moidaface ams next to Noni and Dana ams next to Akitas. Abby ams next to Danas and Carmens follows hers. Yous ams next to Moidaface and I ams next to yous! Pickle ams next to me and Nathan is next to Pickle. Knubbler is next to Nathan and Magnus is next to Carmens and the last one ams Mashed Potato Johnson!” He pointed out each individual arm of the 14 pointed star while Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. 

“...Oka- wait. Whys ams I next to Moidaface and yous?” Skwisgaar asked, eyes narrowing. 

Toki shuffled. “...Yous can takes a different points if yous want. You can be nexts to Mashed Potato Johnson?” He offered, hoping not to start a fight. 

“And be nexts to dats psycho Magnus?! Absolutely nots!” Skwisgaar huffed, upturning his nose at the very idea. 

Toki’s smile fell. “...then wheres dos yous want to be?” 

Skwisgaar glared at the shorter man. “Amnest it obvious? I shoulds be at de tops!” 

Toki stomped his foot, not caring how much he was acting like a child. “Nos! It ams for Offdensen! Yous cans have my spots instead!” 

“Of course yous wants my spots! Yous always wants my spots!”

“That amnest even whats we weres talkings about!” 

Their argument escalated until they were screaming in each other’s face, not noticing when the others came into the room. 

“Boys, really?” Offdensen asked, lifting his glasses to rub his face tiredly. Toki quickly shut his mouth, worried that Offdensen would change his mind and have the Klokateers decorate the tree instead. He had gone through so much trouble to pick out all the ornaments and he had a whole plan set up, the likes that would make Offdensen and Abigail proud. 

Skwisgaar scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dis ams a stupid ideas anyways.” Toki deflated slightly as Skwisgaar tried to leave the room. He was held back by a strong hand. 

He glared indignantly at Nathan. “We said we were gonna do this with Toki so we’re gonna do it.” Nathan mumbled, forcing the blonde back into the room. 

Skwisgaar bristled. “Yous can’ts makes me!” Nathan only frowned at him before turning over to where Offdensen and his boyfriend were busy unpacking some of Toki’s custom ornaments. “HEY AKIT-”

Skwisgaar hurriedly smothered Nathan’s yell, glaring at the lead singer. “Yous bastard!” He hissed. 

“Something wrong, boys?” Akita asked innocently but his eyes said something different. There was a definitive threat in those ice blue eyes that if anyone did anything to ruin the youngest bandmate’s plans, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

“Nothings!” Skwisgaar squeaked, his voice scaling up an octave. Akita narrowed his eyes and he read that there better not be. 

Toki grabbed a green bulb that had been strung with alcohol bottles instead of lights. “Pickle, this ams for yous.” The ginger grabbed the glass and grinned. “Dat’s pretty cool, Toki.” Toki’s face threatened to split with his wide smile before returning to his box. 

He had a black skull with a white Christmas sweater pattern running across it for Nathan. A knife with a bough of holly hanging off of it for Murderface. A palm tree wrapped in string lights for Noni. A makeup kit that lit up for Dana and a dress mannequin that had on a Santa suit for Carmen. Abby had a pair of old school headphones wrapped in ribbon. Offdensen had a computer that had HAPPY HOLIDAYS written across the screen that alternated between green and red. Akita had a golden microphone that sang Christmas carols when a button was pressed on the bottom. He had chosen a festive clown that reminded him a lot of his straw companion from his days in Norway. 

And then there was Skwisgaar. 

He reached into the box, hesitating as he ran a thumb over the cold glass. He startled when he felt a hand gently land on his back. He whirled around and blushed, feeling foolish. 

It was only Akita whose eyes were full of concern. “What’s wrong, Toki? I thought you wanted to do this.” 

He nodded eagerly. “Ands I stils do. I just...” He lifted the box to let Akita see the ornament he had chosen for Skwisgaar. 

It was an exact glass replica of his Gibson Explorer down to the tiniest scratch on the neck. Akita glanced up at him, cocking a blonde eyebrow. He turned redder. “I guess....” He glanced down at his boots. “What ifs he hates it? He hated his points on the stars.” 

Akita held back his soft chuckle to avoid offending Toki. He cupped his cheek, rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb. “Toki...you know he’s going to love it. The damn Swede is a drama queen, that’s all.” 

“SHUTS YOUS FACE YOUS DAMN FINNISH SHIT!” 

Akita let go of Toki’s face, turning around to confront Skwisgaar. “Oh, shut your own ass, you wish Sweden was as great as Finland!” 

“FINLAND AMS A SHITHOLE COUNTRYS!” 

“IT”S THE FUCKING BEST YOU ILLITERATE JACKOFF!” 

Toki smiled faintly at the familiar bickering. While the words were harsh and an outsider might suspect that the two blondes hated each other, there was genuine amusement in Akita’s voice and Skwisgaar’s insults were lacking the usual bite they had when the two opposing Europeans first met. 

Toki walked up to Skwisgaar while Offdensen pulled Akita away to help him untangle the lights much to Akita’s chagrin. “You just had to volunteer for the most difficult part of the job?” Akita asked dryly as he sat down next to an outlet. Offdensen rolled his eyes fondly at the complaint. “Four hands work faster than two.” 

“And six are even better. Hey, Noni! Come help, please!” 

Toki patted Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “U-Uh, Skwisgaar?” The blonde glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Whats do yous wants?” Toki winced and pulled the ornament from behind his back. “....I gots yous an ornaments too.” 

Skwisgaar was silent and Toki braced himself for the backlash with his eyes screwed shut. All he could hope was that Skwisgaar didn’t throw the precious glass and break it in his tantrum. 

He opened his eyes when he felt the weight lifted off his finger. Skwisgaar was gently cradling the mini guitar as if it was his real one. “...Yous gots dis...for me?” Toki nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanteds to get ones for everyones. Yous ams part of everyones, Skwisgaar.” He explained quietly to his boots. 

He missed the way Skwisgaar had covered his mouth with his free hand, eyes starting to turn wet from unshed tears. The blonde quickly blinked away the tears before they fell and he shook away any visible emotion on his face. “It ams okays.” He finally deemed, underplaying how much it meant to him. Most of his Christmases as a kid were spent either in the cold or bouncing from house to house with anyone who would put up with him. The Christmases in the band were usually blurred by alcohol but even then. There was nothing festive about the day until Toki began his quest to make Mordhaus as festive as possible. 

Toki gave a small smile and grabbed his own ornament. It was a mini snow globe where a snowman with his fu manchu was in the middle of a group hug. There was a tall snooty snowman, a shorter one with Pickles’ fiery beard, another with a fierce scowl and the last had Murderface’s mustache. He wanted to add more snowpeople: one with a turquoise pendant around her neck, one with a set of glasses and semi circle green buttons for eyes, one with green robot eyes, an elderly looking snowman with a cane and another with a white and brown goatee. That was without even adding the newest members of his family!

But the man making the ornament begged him to keep the number small, his hand cramping with the amount of detail he was trying to cram on the small snowmen in the snow globe. 

There would be other years and he could add to the ornaments. 

He climbed up the ladder behind Skwisgaar and waited patiently for the taller man to place his ornament near the top of the tree. He placed his own towards the front so that everyone could see his snow globe and grinned happily at the sight below him. 

Noni and Murderface were adjusting some of the lower branches, Noni using their height to place some of the colored balls onto the tree. Murderface made a comment and the tall tanned figure laughed. Abby was sitting between Dana and Carmen as the trio worked on the beaded garland that would wind its way around the tree. It had gotten tangled in its voyage to Mordhaus and Carmen and Abby were talking while Dana nodded or shook her head along with the conversation. Nathan and Pickles were starting to work the lights Akita and Charles had untangled around the tree. Akita and Charles were watching them, Akita waving at Toki when they locked eyes. 

Toki waved back and winced as Skwisgaar pushed on his head. “Comes on ands moves it! I do nots plans to spends all days up heres!” 

-------------------------------

I ended up combining two traditions into a small snippet of a fic. I love decorating the tree with my family and I usually get some ornaments for my friends and I take a long time to pick them out. 

And yes I added my own OCs and their respective ships what you gonna do about it

#12 days of dethmas #dethmas #metalocalypse #dethklok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #charles foster offdensen #cfo #akita kujakissa #abigail remeltindtdrinc #dana kujakissa #carmen hidalgo #noni misipeka #william murderface #original charactes #ocs #ocs x canon characters #dethshit #dethshit writes #christmas

[sophiainspace]

Coldwave - "always coming back to you" ~ have fun! (from Aurelia)

So, funny story… This prompt is from ages ago, and I forgot this was @itsflake‘s prompt, and made her beta read her own gift fic. So, uh, sorry @itsflake. Hope you enjoyed it anyway and thanks for excellent beta reading of your gift! :D

Coming Back To You

3+2+1. Len comes back for Mick three times, and doesn’t come back for him twice. And then, one last time, Mick comes back for Len.

1.

Len gets out of juvie before Mick. Short sentence, all things considered. 

(He learned that lesson well: don’t piss off your father on a job. He told Mick the story mere minutes after meeting him. “Unbelievable, what they get you for. They charged me with joyriding, for fuck’s sake. Can you believe my asshat of a court-appointed lawyer pled guilty to that?”

And Mick said, “Shut it, you mouthy little shit - I’m trying to stop the bleeding here.”)

But with arson and multiple counts of manslaughter on his rap sheet, Mick’s sentence could go on till he ages out of here. Especially if he doesn’t stop antagonizing the guards and setting trash alight in the yard. He’s got at least another year left of this shitshow. 

Mick’ll be fine, Len tells himself from his bunk, watching his friend, silent at the window. Mick knows how to survive in here. Not like Len, who’s had to hang off Mick for six shitty months, letting everyone think they’re fucking. (As if. Len’s fourteen, and Mick thinks about fire the way most people think about sex - and vice versa.) If Mick can take care of Len, he can take care of himself. Right?

At the window, Mick is running a lighter down the bars. The past week, he’s been quieter than Len’s ever seen him, and he was plenty quiet enough before that. Every day in here is screwing with his head a little more, and not just because he can’t set light to anything.

Len saunters up to the window, following the line of Mick’s gaze out to the grim yard, where Grieg is taking his frustrations out on some poor new bastard. The guards will let him get on with it until it turns really bloody. Len stills Mick’s fidgeting fingers against the bars, lacing his own through them. “I’m coming back,” he says firmly. “I’m gonna be waiting at those gates in a year. Then we’ll both be out of here, yeah?”

Mick turns his head, smiling like he trusts Len more than anything else in this shithole of a world. “I know,” he says.

A year and three weeks later, the gates slide open to the music of a warning buzzer, and Mick shuffles through them. Len is leaning on the edge of the fence trying to look casual, but he can’t keep the smirk off his face. “What did I tell you?” he crows.

Grinning, Mick pushes past him. His touch may be a little rough, but it’s far from casual. “Yeah, yeah, you made it. Congrats, asshole. Now make yourself useful and get us home.”

Inclining his head, Len steps to the right, revealing an Audi shiny enough to melt the eyes of every shitty guard in the Iron Heights Juvenile Detention Wing. There’s maybe a bit more pride in his voice than he means to give away, when he says, “Told you I was too good to get caught for petty joyriding.”

Mick throws back his head and laughs. 

As they climb into the car, Mick says, “Hey, Lenny. Thanks for coming to get me.”

Len grins. “Always.”

2.

It’s late when Len’s phone buzzes on his nightstand, jerking him out of sleep. Even at 3 in the morning, he’s on the very edge of alertness. The habit doesn’t do his temper any favors, but it’s been keeping him alive all his life. He only regrets it occasionally. Like now.

He gropes for the phone in the dark. Blurry words light up like a neon sign above a dive bar.

Blew out a tyre.

Len pats the nightstand for his glasses. He’s tempted to berate Mick for his terrible driving, or for being out at 3am. A darker place in Len’s cold heart would just love to ask Mick if he’s been driving drunk.

Sighing, Len sends back a single sentence.

On my way.

The phone buzzes again with an Apple Maps link and an irritating animated broccoli giving a thumbs-up.

The map link takes Len to a country road just past Keystone. He can barely see against the rain, but finally he makes it.

Mick is sitting on a covered bench at a bus stop, stuffing his face out of a half-empty box of donuts. “You made it,” he yells, his voice just carrying over the din of rain on a tin roof. He sounds surprised.

Len darts under the shelter. “What are you doing out here, Mick?” He’s trying to sound every bit the hard-nosed boss keeping his underling in line, but somehow it comes out like a gentle sigh.

Mick looks up at Len with the face of a kid caught with his head in the cookie jar. “I wanted donuts,” He points at the road near his overturned motorcycle. “There was a pothole.”

“Yes,” Len says with exaggerated patience. “You’re out in the middle of the country, at night, on a road with no lights, in a storm. There probably was.”

Mick nods solemnly, like he’s really learning from this predicament.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t get donuts from the corner store a block from the safe house?” Blank face. Len tries again. “Why go way out past Keystone, Mick?”

Something unfamiliar crosses Mick’s face, gone again before Len can try to read it. Mick slides along the bench, patting the space next to him. Len sits, huddling into his partner’s warm side against the rain.

Oddly quiet, Mick says, “They’re tearing down my old farmhouse. Wanted one last look before they turn it into apartments for rich bastards, y’know?”

Len sighs, reaching out to clap Mick on the back. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Yeah.” They sit there for a minute longer, just staring out into the rain.

Till Mick stands up, grabbing the soggy box. “Bringing these back for Axel,” he says, conspiratorially revealing three rainbow-frosted donuts huddling at the corner of the box.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Len pats Mick on the shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.”

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Mick says, as he climbs onto the back of Len’s bike.

Len shrugs, casual, but he’s smiling into the darkness. “Always.” 

3.

The warehouse is all but empty. For a horrible, interminable moment, Len thinks he might be too late.

Stumbling in the half-light, he hears a yelled out, “Over here, boss!” from one of the crew. 

He pushes past him, towards the only thought in his head. Mick.

The rival gang have done a number on him. The whole right side of his face is purple. Len doesn’t want to see what’s lurking under his once-white shirt, now brown with dirt and dried blood. Mick is curled in on himself on the floor, groaning. 

“He’s hardly conscious, boss,” someone says.

Len shoves him away. “Get out. Give me a minute.”

When the crew’s gone, when Len is alone with Mick, only then does he run his hand down the side of Mick’s face that isn’t speckled with ugly bruises. 

Mick’s eyes flutter open. “You came,” he croaks.

Len’s planning brain is already spinning into overdrive, calculating exactly how he’s going to take out the bastards that did this. He’s gonna make it messy and brutal. 

But right now, he just strokes Mick’s face and murmurs, “Always.”

+1.

In this business, a job can go one of three ways.

There are the successful grand heists, the celebrate-for-weeks jobs. Where your crew get out with the score, nothing worse than minor scrapes, and a treasure trove of stories to tell for years to come. 

Then there are the close calls, the just-get-out-with-your-ass-in-one-piece jobs. Where you scrape out with what you came for, but not without damage.

And there are the ones that go like this disaster of a job. Throw-away-the-plan jobs. Burn-the-score-and-run jobs. Jobs where your crew don’t make it out to tell the tale… Not all of them.

As Len watches, a warehouse packed to the rafters with art is going up in flames. Of fucking course it is — because Mick is inside.

He’s burning up right along with the score, too lost in the flame even to make a sound. The horror has already had Len doubled over retching — and now he’s about to walk the fuck away. Every muscle in his body is screaming where Mick is silent, trying to fix him to the spot, but Len is walking away.

He’s straining hard to hear anything above the roar of the bright monster consuming his world from the inside, but there’s still no word from Mick.

“I’m coming back for you,” he whispers over his shoulder, and it feels like he’s being ripped in two. 

In thirty years of partnership, it’s the first lie he’s ever told Mick.

+2.

He’s chained to a rail on Chronos’ ship, the one place he deserves to be. 

Mick is empty-eyed, his helmet heavy in his hands. 

Len says, “I was always, always coming back for you,” and his lies are a hollow echo in his ears. Like a whisper in a burning warehouse. Like a broken promise.

He doesn’t know the man looming over him. That can’t be his pyromaniac, chilling Len to the bone with that cold stare at his betrayer.

That first lie he told his partner was too easy. Now they’re sliding out one after the other, smooth and comfortable. We’re just here to steal. We’ll go home soon. This crew don’t mean as much to me as you do, Mick.

I was coming back for you.

“No,” Mick says. “You weren’t.”

In all his life, Len has never run out of words. He thought he could talk himself out of the fires of hell if he had to. Turns out, he can’t. 

There are no more empty promises left in him.

++1.

He doesn’t think years exist, not really, in this time-forsaken place. But if they do, they pass. And pass. And pass.

He waits at the edge of time, on the dark horizon of the multiverse. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. 

At first he thinks he’s imagining it. Movement, where nothing has moved in eons. Light, where he’s only ever known darkness. God knows he’s hallucinated enough nightmares here, beside the twisted wreck of the Oculus that plays out a thousand lifetimes in his brain, on an endless repeating loop, till he’s at the vanishing point of his sanity.

But then there’s a rumbling earthquake, a hole being ripped in the universe, and he knows it’s real. 

Someone’s coming for him.

Then he’s on the ground, and Time is shaking him to pieces.

And Mick — Mick — is on the ground with him, holding him together. 

“You came back for me,” he croaks. It feels like he hasn’t spoken in centuries.

“‘Course I did, Lenny.” Mick’s voice — God, Mick’s voice — is surprised, like it was never even a question. “Always.”

Len reaches through the chaos for more words and comes up empty. There’s only Mick. “You came back for me.” 

With wide, shining eyes, Mick just repeats, “Always.”

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #coldwave #legends of tomorrow fanfic #angst with a happy ending #and some fluff #NO REALLY THERE'S FLUFF #ok and a brief bit of whump #don't you people know me by now #my fic #the flash fanfic #none of us can queue this alone

[bbrandy2002]

The Diary of Riley Brooks

Entry Two

Wacky Drabble #8: Help me with this, would you?

Coincides with TRH Chapter 13

Some strong Language

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Drabbler Tags: @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @sirbeepsalot @jovialyouthmusic @romanticatheart-posts @stopforamoment @dcbbw @jessiembruno @katedrakeohd

Additional tags; I have no idea who is on my permanent tags list anymore😬 I didnt exactly keep up with it 😭 I'll do better. So please let me know so I can get that sorted out.

@ao719 @hopefulmoonobject

September 7

I'm having a baby!

As I sit here trying to let that statement fully sink in, I think about where I was just one year ago today.

I had always dreamt of meeting my Prince Charming, never really expecting to find him. Liam made me realize that fairy tales do exist and sometimes wishes do come true. That sounds so cliche, yet, I don't know any other way to describe what we share together.

He is my heartbeat, my every breath, my reason for existing. Our love is built on passion and longing, his touch excites me and his very presence heats my core. Our bodies joined together, whether fierce or gentle, is pure, unadulterated magic. Liam is my warmth and sincerity, my goodness and truth.

In the depths of my belly, I am carrying the greatest symbol of that love, a part of him and a part of me, a tiny creature that will forever bring us joy.

I spent much of the reception, anxious to find out if I was indeed pregnant. As I wrote yesterday, Savannah admitted to taking a pregnancy test, as well. For whatever reason, possibly one I don't want to ever know, she placed her negative test in the bathroom drawer. Due to Madeleine's incompetence and unwanted presence for this event, she, too, put my test in the drawer. Is there some kind of weird Cordonian tradition I am unaware of that says these test work better in drawers? And why did Savannah leave hers in there? The damn thing was negative. In light of his objection, I have a strong feeling, Mr. Chuck knows more than he is letting on.

Freaked the hell out by Savannah, I knew then, I was the one who was pregnant. I needed air and a moment to think, far away from all the yee-haw bullshit. I sent Liam a text, asking him to meet me in a clearing by the house, I had a surprise for him. Within seconds, he approaches me with a flirtatious smile, looking as if he was ready to fuck me six ways from Sunday. I love that man and I'm always more than willing to participate in his freakish, outdoor sex fetish, but, this wasn't what I had in mind.

After I tell him we are a having a baby, he sweeps me up in his arms, gently placing me back to the ground. His happiness was written all over his face, until it wasn't. He went into Liam mode, panicking about the need to baby proof every room at the Palace and Valtoria. As much as I loved his cute response, I wanted tears dammit. I wanted him on his knees, crying his eyes out, unable to talk, worshipping my stomach. Mick Jagger said you can't always get what you want, but, sometimes you get what you need....well, I needed a sobbing, shaking Liam, is that too much to ask?

We discuss when to tell our friends and because I'm a petty, evil bitch, I decide we should tell them right in the middle of Savannah and Bertrand's reception. You propose at my wedding, I announce the equivalent of the second coming, in the form of my sacred child, at yours. I couldn't care less for the rest of the wedding attendees, but, seeing Hana, Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand delight in our news was exciting.

Afterwards, Liam wants to celebrate in private, which means, we might talk some, but, he still has every intention of getting off tonight. We head upstairs and I was correct in my assumption, he wants to celebrate making the baby by doing what we did to make it. He is a wet panty dropper for sure. And while some ride Harley's and horses, I propped my little pregnant ass on my own stallion and rode him hard. If Barthelemy weren't already out of his coma, me screaming Liam's name when I climaxed, would have awakened the old coot for sure.

If my panties weren't already off, after he sang a lullaby to our baby, that for sure would have melted them away. If he keeps this up, we'll have our own 20 Kids and Counting reality show.

I should have stayed in fucking bed this morning. At breakfast, Bertrand greeted us in kind, while Stick-It-In-A-Drawer Savannah, reminded us all that we are not at court. Why is she still here and not on her honeymoon? Then Leona tells me I can't have a cup of coffee....bitch, I was downing shots like no tomorrow just three days ago with Liv and Hana in Auvernal. This queen will drink a cup of coffee if she damn well pleases. My baby is probably going to come out with two heads.

Like the lovable, little genius he is, Maxwell suggests everyone buys the baby a gift. Guess who further suggested we get these gifts from the local country general store? The same damn place that was using a priceless saddle as a fucking hat holder. I can't even write her name anymore. I have to wonder, why I have been playing second fiddle on Hee-Haw Hell to her during this trip.

So the gang and I pack into our vehicle and head back to said store, where I can share with all of Cordonia that the royal crib was purchased at Wild Chester's Gear and Steer on Bootleg Road. I watched Maxwell fawn over socks, Hana recreated painful memories of lonely tea parties, and Drake...well, Drake's little wooden horse was quite adorable.

I get a call from Olivia, who somehow managed to escape earlier from this shithole than I did. I thought we were amigas now Liv? She actually cried when I told her Liam and I were expecting. I don't know what the hell she is doing in my bedroom, but, if Livvie needs something there, I'm more than happy to help a girl out. She asked me for the most valuable thing in my room, I lied to her and told her it was the royal sceptre. If she only knew the value of the dildo I had in my nightstand....that better be exactly where I left it when I get back.

Back at the ranch, Liam says the five most beautiful, glorious words I have been waiting to here for weeks.....We're almost ready to go....Hot Damn!

Bianca asked me if I thought I could get away without saying goodbye...I already knew the answer was, no. If she only knew how hard I tried about twenty times since arriving to cut tail and run. And damn that heartless, nazi, Leona, she for real dissed my husband! Bitch, I will snap you in half over Liam.

Just when I think I'm finally in the clear, who in the blue fuck put me on a plane for the next 10 hours with Frick, Frack and Kiara?

Liam, I love you, but, damn you! I'm nauseous, tired, moody, and pissing buckets every 10 minutes, carrying your child, and you thought this was a good idea.

I blame pregnancy brain for my decision to tell these three our big news. I'm not the greatest at charades, Im not even the smartest person in the world, but, I swear to God, these three may quite possibly be the dumbest morons I have ever met. They guessed I was full, I was bloated, gluttony.....fucking gluttony???? Yes Penelope, the big news I wanted to share with you is I'm a glutton. Maybe a glutton for punishment, deciding to interact with you three. More guesses included, American Football, and a common pirate jig....one of these women is an ambassador and the other my communications director. I'm a waitress from Brooklyn, and my word, I'm truly baffled by the sheer stupididy I had just witnessed. I turned to Liam, pleading with my eyes, help me with this, would you?

As bad as those three were, out of no where, the most incompetant, security guard on this planet, appears right before me. I didn't have time to worry about her, because apparently, the bane of my existence just scheduled a press conference to announce my pregnancy. I haven't seen a doctor to even confirm yet, what the hell Madeleine. One of these days, I am gonna beat that green goblin's ass down.

Cordonia, I'm on my way and can't be there soon enough.

Riley

#wackydrabbles #liam x riley #liam x mc #trh fanfic #trh #choices trh #trh liam #trh mc