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hawkinsindiana · 4 years

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i don’t want you to worry

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER ONE OF ELEVEN (?)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 3.8k

a/n: six months later, here’s part three! i’m not gonna lie to y’all, i have no idea how many chapters there are gonna be or if it’ll get updated regularly, but fuck it. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and figured we could use a bit of levity! thank you for your patience! hope you enjoy! lmao i didn’t feel like making a gif pls forgive me

masterlist

Fog is hovering just above the ground; you can practically feel how thick and wet it is against your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck all stand as a gust of wind flows through the air - the freezing temperature makes you shiver.

The ground is wet, squelching underneath your sneakers as you move forward, still uncertain of where you are; the environment’s been completely coated in the dense fog. When your surroundings finally begin to clear a bit, your heart starts to race in fear once you recognize where you are.

It’s the junkyard.

“Stay close, yeah?”

The voice sounds like it’s right inside your ear, but at least he’s here - you’d recognize him anywhere.

Steve’s to your left, bat slung effortlessly over his shoulder, and his presence helps calm your nerves. You won’t have to face this alone.

You want to thank him before the situation gets any worse, but your mouth won’t cooperate. All you’re able to reply with is a nod.

Suddenly, the palm of your hand feels heavy with the weight of your weapon; Steve presses on, moving through the space to approach the threat that lurks beyond. A form begins to take shape behind the grey clouds, hunched down on all fours as it stalks towards your position. Your fingers tense as you prepare to fight and adrenaline begins to overtake you, until the silhouette rises onto two legs. It’s not supernatural, it’s human.

You want to call out to Steve, tell him to fall back because it’s too dangerous but your voice still doesn’t work - you can’t warn him what’s coming. The soles of your shoes dig into the ground as you run to catch up with him, fingers extended out to grab and yank him away.

But it’s too late. One moment he’s right there in front of you, the next he’s gone, vanished right before your eyes. You blink.

On the ground, Steve’s in the dirt, blood spilling from his face; Billy Hargrove quickly approaches.

And then, it’s just like that night. You’re unable to move, unable to save him as Steve tries to fight back but Billy’s too quick. His crimson colored fists are tearing skin with each impact until the brunette boy on the ground is lifeless, as if all warmth was drained right from him. Billy’s twisted grin never falters as he relishes in your pain, tears streaming down your face until-

You wake with a gasp, body jolting, hands shaking.

God, it feels so real, like you’re still there; your nose can smell the disgusting metallic scent from the blood, skin still chilled from the temperature, veins still threaded with adrenaline.

That was only a dream… right?

As soon as that thought is introduced to your worried mind, you throw off the covers before grabbing the nearest hoodie off the bed post. Tugging it over your head, your bare feet skid across the hardwood floor as you rush to the phone in the living room.

Your fingers are trembling as you press the buttons of the number; you have to know if he’s okay. You have to confirm it was just a dream.

“Fuck, Steve,” You start to mutter to yourself, counting the rings to attempt to steady your breathing, “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

The longer it takes, the more nervous you become. The darkness that surrounds you starts to close in, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, the image of him bloodied and lying dead in the dirt haunts you.

“I swear to Christ - Dustin, if that’s you and those bozos again, I’ll come kick your ass myself,” Steve’s voice, tired and very irritated, comes through the speaker.

“Steve! Oh my god-” The back of your throat starts to burn at the feeling of tears welling up; the relief crashes over you in a wave, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“What? Jesus-” He pauses, his tone softens once he hears it’s you, “Why wouldn’t I be okay? It’s nearly-”

Steve stops again; you reckon it’s to glance at the time.

“Shit, sweetheart it’s nearly two in the morning, what’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, finally realizing that you must’ve awoken him, “Fuck I just-”

The phone is gripped tighter in your hands as you speak, “I really just needed to know that you're okay. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry-“

“No, no it’s okay-”

“But I-”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me,” Steve’s reassurance helps to slow your pounding heart; he’s okay. He’s safe at home.

There’s nothing to worry about anymore.

You repeat that to yourself multiple times, whispering it to yourself under your breath. At this point, you think that you’d do anything to forget that night.

Your back slides down the wall as your body grows exhausted from the severe reaction; Steve’s voice continues through the phone, “Did something happen?”

“I had-” You force a deep breath through your lungs, face scrunching in fear at the memory, “I had a really bad dream, Steve.”

Your arm wraps around your knees to pull them into your chest, forehead coming down to meet them and dig into the soft material of your pants, “I woke up and fuck, I was so scared. I was so scared and all I could think to do was call you. And I’m all alone. I’m all by myself tonight and I hate that I can’t be alone anymore. And I haven’t slept through the night in weeks-”

“Weeks? What do you mean weeks? I mean - I knew you weren’t sleeping well right after, but Christ it’s been nearly two months!”

You curse at yourself for rambling, words suddenly escaping your mind as you hesitate to respond. With your silence, Steve huffs; you can imagine the disappointment and worry over his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You bite down on your lip before answering, only letting up on the pressure when the taste of blood touches your tongue; you’re ashamed of the answer, “I don’t know… I’m sorry, Steve.”

All you feel is guilt in the moments that follow. Something like this… dreams about him dying in front of your eyes isn’t something that should be kept from him.

“Hey,” Steve’s soft tone reels you back in, “You call me whenever you have to. I’ll always pick up, okay?”

You exhale as you nod, before remembering that he can’t see your reaction through the phone, “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, anytime. Are you okay?”

You weave the phone cord between your fingers, “I’m better now. Uh, I’ll let you go then.”

“Okay. Try to get some rest, for my sake,” Steve pleads. You twist the cord tighter, “I will.”

He sighs at your oath, finally able to relax a bit more, “Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight, if it’s too much. Or if you’re tired… ”

You hum at his words, head leaning back against the wall. A smile creeps over your lips at his consideration, wishing that you could thank him in person for his words, “No, no let’s do something. It’ll be good for me.”

He laughs a bit; even with how horrible the quality might be through the receiver, it still makes your stomach flutter with butterflies, “Okay, good. I’ll see you tonight. Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try, Steve.”

After wishing him a good night, you place the phone back onto it’s base. Standing up on wobbly legs, a shaky exhale leaves your lungs when your fingers remove themselves from the smooth plastic. The image of him is still there when you blink.

Fuck - you should’ve told him.

—

Three taps against the window pane startle you awake. Rubbing your eyes as you sit up, you check the time - you were only able to finally fall asleep twenty minutes ago. Anxiety starts to creep over the back of your neck - until you see the culprit.

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself. You can’t help the small smile that erupts over your face at the sight of Steve, fingers nervously drumming on the window sill. His expression relaxes a bit once you come over, and you’re already rolling your eyes as you move to pull it open.

“You know that I’m the only one home, right?”

Steve nods, not following your logic, “Yeah? And?”

“You could’ve just come to the door, Steve.”

The boy in front of you shifts at your words; his retort stutters as he tries to come up with an excuse, “Okay, alright. But you know, I didn’t want to scare you or anything!”

You step back to cross your arms over your chest, “And coming to my window while I sleep seems a whole lot better to you?”

“Alright whatever, Henderson,” He answers quickly, waving off your tone, “Will you just let me in already?”

You gesture for Steve to enter, laughing quietly to yourself as he does. As soon as he’s crawled his way through the opening, you latch and lock the window closed. He huffs, “You have no idea how thrilled I am that your house only has one floor.”

“Did you drive across the neighborhood just to scare me?” You ignore him, pulling the cord on the lamp by your bedside. The light illuminates the worry on his face.

“No, I just-” Steve pauses as he fiddles with his keys, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I had to know you were okay.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest once again, “Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve’s brow raises at your deflection, “Um, did we not have the same conversation over the phone?”

“We did,” Your answer is laced with a bit of aggression, “You didn’t need to come all the way over here, okay? I’m fine now-”

“But are you?” Steve interrupts. His voice is genuine, soft, and you want to spill everything because he has that look in his eye; you’re not sure you can push him away forever.

“Of course, Steve-”

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve puts more force behind his words - it’s like a demand. He takes a few steps closer, “Please don’t lie to me.”

Hearing Steve plead with you like that makes your heart shatter. It’s killing him to watch you stand before him like this. He’s known you long enough to know when something’s not right, and he’s gotten especially good at reading you over the past few weeks. And by the way your jaw clenches, Steve knows you’re about to crack.

A shaky inhale comes through your lips; you have to tell him something. But how much?

“I just… I don’t want you to worry,” You mutter. Your voice is just above a whisper, although it doesn’t matter; it’s not like there’s anyone home to overhear. You’re scared to admit there’s something wrong. He shouldn’t have to do this for you.

Steve almost laughs. He runs his free hand through his hair, “It’s like, a year too late for that, you know.”

You sigh, realizing that he’s absolutely right. Of course he should worry, especially with how vague the conversation over the phone was. Letting him in is something that you’ll have to get used to.

Even though you’d been friends for a while, it was always more about him than you. You always wanted to be there for him, if he ever needed anything, how he was doing. It’s something neither of you understood was happening until your relationship became more; it was no one’s fault.

All of a sudden, Steve realized just how much you’ve done for him - he’s wanted to return the favor. And this… is all new to you; you’re not used to someone checking in.

“Oh god, you’re right,” You mumble under your breath. Your hands come up to cover your eyes in shame as you continue, “I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Witnessing your sudden change in mood, Steve moves towards you; he sets his keys down on your nightstand as he does. He goes to reach for you, pulling your body into his, “Hey hey, it’s okay, it’s fine.”

He wishes he could come up with something better to say. You’ve always been better with words than him. You’re better at a lot of things than him. But he’s trying - he’s trying to be better to be worthy of you.

Your arms wrap tightly around him once Steve’s pressed against you. He smells like freshly washed cotton, like pulling sheets from the dryer when they’re still warm.

It’s all so overwhelming, it makes you want to cry. You feel like you should, but the familiar burn behind your eyes never comes. Instead, you resume speaking.

“I guess I just…” You trail off, wanting to give him a reason - he deserves one.

Your fist knots the fabric of his tee; Steve’s palm slides up over your back, “I’m just not used to leaning on others for help. I’m trying to get used to it.”

“Sometimes it’s okay,” Steve’s reply is muffled by your hair. He ponders what to add, lips pressed into a firm line as he thinks, “Sometimes you gotta do stuff on your own and sometimes you need somebody else. That’s just how life works.”

Your chest heaves as you sigh at the weight of his words, this moment cements a single fact inside your brain - you won’t plan on hiding anything from him.

Well, except for that one thing. You’re still not ready to admit that to him yet.

You wish that pulling away didn’t mean losing his warmth; but his gentle eyes meeting yours mimics a feeling like it that fills your chest.

“You can lean on me, you know,” Steve says, and the smile that was already pulling at your lips widens even farther. And then he nudges you - his mouth curls into that stupid smirk of his, “However you want.”

You crack a laugh, accompanied by a roll of your eyes, “Yes, I know. Sometimes I just need a little reminder."

Suddenly, you remember just how lucky you are to have him. How fortunate you are to have him there to brighten your darkest moments, even if he’s sometimes battling his own demons at the same time.

“Thank you,” You say, bringing your gaze back to meet Steve’s again. He nods slightly, tone genuine and soft as he answers, “Of course. Anytime.”

The pads of your fingers graze over his cheekbone before tucking a strand of brunette hair behind his ear; Steve shivers a bit at the gentle touch before you meet his lips in a kiss.

He still gets a bit nervous each time, only because this feels so much more different than the others. The level of comfort and security he feels when you’re in the room was never there before he met you. Like really met you.

And you - well, you’re still so overwhelmed that you finally, after all that time, get to be with the one you love - you feel like you could jump out of your skin with joy. You’ve treasured every single moment, because it’s never been lost on you how it all could be taken away in an instant.

The brilliant grin you two share after pulling away shakes it all from your mind. Your fingers move to grip his hands in yours; you just like being able to do it, even if it is in the privacy of your own bedroom.

But then that feeling settles in your stomach, the one that doesn’t go away until morning. The dread that something’s going to happen. Steve can sense your growing anxiety - it’s almost like the air surrounding you changes. Leaving you now, something about that doesn’t sit right with him.

“I’ll uh, stay if you want.”

He mentions the idea quietly because, well, you’re not officially together. But to be fair, he hasn’t asked - but neither have you. Even though your hands are still in his, pressing into his skin, Steve finds it important to ask and make sure you’re on the same page.

You can’t lie - the idea of Steve spending the night makes you a little nervous. Although, knowing that you’re safe with each other might just be the push you need to relax. And with that thought, you’re stepping away from him, “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

The doorknob is so cold against your skin as you exit to grab an extra pillow from the closet in the hallway. The darkness of the living room seems to go on forever; it almost feels like something’s creeping up your neck once your back is turned to it.

After quickly shutting the door once you’re back inside, you turn around to see Steve, perched silently on top of your comforter - his presence warms the entire room, bringing life and love into it.

He hasn’t spent that much time in this space; he’s trying to take everything in, because it’s very reflective of you. There are neat piles of VHS tapes and comics on top of the dresser, a closet dominated with dark colors and sneakers, and some of your well worn denim tossed over the desk chair.

But his eye catches on a stack of photographs on the desk’s surface, and he’s halfway across the room before you can interject. You clutch the pillow a little tighter to your chest as Steve flips through them, laughing at one of you and Dustin from a few years ago at Christmas wearing matching pajamas.

He spins to show it to you, “I’m never gonna let him live this down.”

You approach his side when he finds another one of you as a child, playing with a cake battered spatula in your previous house. Baby curls framed your face, and your eyes were wide with adventure and wonder, “Holy shit, look at you!”

“I don’t know why I remember that day so much,” You mutter.

Steve’s silence pushes you to continue, “It was Mom’s birthday, and my grandparents baked her a cake - double chocolate I think. I wasn’t tall enough to reach but I wanted to help so badly. So they sat me on top of the counter and let me mix everything. They even let me tell her that I made it.”

You laugh quietly before the memory turns cold in your mind, and your wistful smile turns to a slight frown, “I haven’t seen them since we moved here.”

Steve isn’t even looking at the picture anymore. He listened to every word that left your mouth; you don’t speak much about the rest of your family. Instead of trying to probe further, he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, a gentle and silent reminder of his support.

This feels strange. Opening up to him like that, making yourself that vulnerable - that’s a level of intimacy you haven’t explored quite yet. At least not with him… or anyone really.

Thankfully, it hasn’t seemed to scare him off. If anything, Steve’s more relaxed. He likes knowing how you feel.

Steve flips through the others while you rest your chin on his shoulder, your eyes intently watch his reaction to each one - you think you could stay in this moment forever.

And then he comes across one - an image of you and the kids on Halloween a few years back all dressed like Jedi. He pauses on it, “When do you think we should tell them?”

A sharp inhale comes through your nostrils at his comment; you hadn’t thought about that.

In all your bliss, you had completely forgotten - no one else knows. Not even your brother.

“Oh God, Steve-” You start, removing yourself from him, “I don’t even know how we would do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve replies, turning back to meet your gaze, “We just… tell them. It’s not rocket science.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you answer, clenching the pillow a bit tighter in your grasp, “It’s really not that simple with them, Steve. You know that. And honestly, I still feel like I’m trying to figure out how to do all this.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, knowing just how messy involving the kids could make your relationship, “I’ve kinda liked it just being about us. You know, we’re together because we wanna be, it’s not for anyone else. And trust me, they’ll have so many opinions-”

“So let’s keep it to ourselves then,” Steve interjects, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he answers, “We’ll tell ‘em when we think it’s right, when we’re sure if this is serious or not.”

You hated keeping your feelings for him a secret. You hated that you were never able to tell him, but this is different. The idea sends a rush of excitement through your veins, you can’t deny it.

He smiles a bit and sets the photos down before continuing, “I know it might be too early to tell, but I feel like this could last, you know.”

You feel blood rise into your cheeks when he looks at you like that - irises filled to the brim with admiration. His hands come up to cup your face as you reply, “Me too.”

Steve leans in to drink a slow kiss from your lips, the kind that leaves you breathless when it’s over.

“Good,” He mutters, earning a small grin from you. Steve takes the pillow out of your grasp, “What do you say we try and get a couple hours of sleep in? I guess Dustin wants to go to the arcade before lunch.”

You laugh, pushing your hair back away from your face as you answer, “I will never be able to get used to that, I’m sorry.”

Steve tosses the pillow onto the empty spot on the mattress while you pull back the comforter. The bed dips as you both settle under the covers; Steve’s arm starts to slide over your waist before stopping abruptly, “Is this okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

The darkness washes over the room after you pull the cord to the lamp; it doesn’t feel as scary with Steve lying behind you. His touch stops your mind from wandering as it so often does - it can’t concoct anything to torment you with.

That being said, the sight from the earlier nightmare does appear behind your eyelids when you blink.

“It was about you,” You mutter, “The dream.”

It’s spoken before you can stop yourself. You instantly regret it, due to the lack of a reply that follows.

But then Steve tugs you closer, and you feel like you could melt against him. He tucks his nose right underneath the base of your hairline, deeply inhaling as you relax into him.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your skin; your fingers curl around his as a quiet thank you.

Steve thinks that this is probably what home is supposed to feel like - warm clothes, the scent of your shampoo, a comfortable silence to lull you both to sleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more comfortable.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, the pair of you have finally found a bit of peace.

—

taglist: @stevebabey / @mrsukai / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @wallacetdog / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #st fic #st imagine #my writing #almost paradise

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hyperactivepuppy · 3 years

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Parties Are The Worst - Chapter 1

New fic! I found this partially written story in my google docs from months ago and thought some of you might enjoy it. ^.^ I had way too much fun writing all of the students being crazy XD.

Summary: Todoroki gets dragged to a party at Kirishima and Bakugo’s new apartment, but turns out his tolerance for alcohol is not as high as he thought... **Note—this is set when all of the students are in their early 20s, so there is no underage drinking :).

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635390/chapters/70190049

~*~

Parties were the worst. They were loud, confusing, and extremely overwhelming. Why on earth would anyone choose to attend such an event?

Todoroki had been wondering this for the past hour, tucked away in the furthest corner of the room to try and escape the noise.

When Kirishima had gleefully announced the event that Monday, he immediately declined. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Kirishima—he just didn’t want to spend an evening crammed in with a bunch of hyped up 20-year-olds. Then Midoriya came along with his wide, innocent, puppy eyes and somehow managed to change his mind.

So here he was, trapped at Kirishima’s apartment while the entire class of 1A shrieked and danced. Someone had dragged all of the couch cushions onto the floor and Mina and Sero were diving off the wooden frame into a mound of pillows. Loud, obnoxious music boomed through the room and Kaminari was screaming along with the lyrics in a horrible attempt at karaoke.

Todoroki wanted to leave. The whole atmosphere was just too much. It was too loud—too overwhelming. And to make it all worse, he didn’t even have Midoriya there to help ground him. Honestly, he wouldn’t even be there if Midoriya hadn’t asked him so sweetly the day before. He’d promised to stay with him all evening and said they could sit in the corner and talk. But Kaminari somehow managed to burn all the frozen pizzas and both Midoriya and Yaoyorozu had gone to the store to buy more.

So now he was alone—anxious, tired, and with no escape. His head was starting to ache from the constant chatter, making him even less tolerant of the chaotic environment.

Sighing, he pushed away from the wall and headed toward the snack table. Maybe a drink would help. At least it would give him something to do. Methodically, he pulled a plastic cup from the stack and filled it with punch.

As he sipped the cold drink, he pulled out his phone, smiling a little as he scrolled through cat videos on Tiktok. Watching cute kittens calmed his anxious mind, but it also distracted him enough that he didn’t notice Kaminari sneak up behind him until the blond yelled in his ear.

“Hey, Todobro, wanna make drinks with us?” Kaminari asked, grinning dopily at him.

Todoroki started, looking up from his phone. He was about to politely decline the offer and head back over to his designated corner, when he remembered something Midoriya had said that morning.

It will be fine! I’ll stay with you the whole time. And if you’re feeling anxious, you could always try having a little to drink. No pressure or anything, but a bit of alcohol might help you relax a bit and enjoy yourself more.

At the time, he had dismissed the idea, wary of the adverse effects of said beverage. He’d seen what some of his classmates acted like drunk and he wasn’t too keen on throwing away his neatly filed inhibitions and making a fool of himself. Even though they were of age now, he hadn’t tried much alcohol. It was usually served at parties—something he mostly tried to avoid.

A sharp cough startled him back and he blushed when he noticed Kaminari still standing there, hand on hip as he waited for an answer. Mina had joined him and was giving Todoroki wide puppy dog eyes.

He swallowed. “Oh, uh… sure, I guess.” He still wasn’t sure if it was the best idea, but it had to be better than standing against the wall stressing. At least he hoped so.

“Yes!!” Mina punched a hand in the air, rushing over to the kitchen. “Kiri, do you have any tequila?”

Kirishima poked his head around the door, eyebrows raised in interest. “We making drinks?”

“Yup!” Kaminari cheered, almost dropping the two glasses he’d pulled from the cupboard.

It was almost as if Bakugo could sense the near accident as he gave Kaminari a seething look. “Watch what you touch, Pikachu. This isn’t your damn house.”

“Chill, man. I’ve got it under control,” Kirishima soothed, patting his boyfriend’s arm gently. “This just comes along with hosting a party at your own flat. Now do you want a drink or not?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes but got out another three glasses. “Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Kaminari was carefully pouring pineapple juice into a glass, tongue sticking out in concentration.

Mina hovered over his shoulder, watching intently.

“Then you add two shots of tequila,” Kaminari explained, nodding expertly like he’d been mixing drinks his whole life.

“Ohhhh.” Mina measured out two shot glasses and handed them over.

“You sure it’s two?” Bakugo asked sceptically.

“Course I am! What, you think I’ve never done this before?” Kaminari dumped the liquid into the glass and started adding carefully sliced lemon peel.

“Dude, are you putting the peel in there?!” Kirishima asked, only just noticing what was going on.

Kaminari nodded, waving the lemon in front of Kirishima’s face to emphasise the point. “Yeah! They give it that extra zest.”

“Omg. You guys are gonna feel so sick,” Bakugo drawled.

Mina shrugged, taking the glass and sipping at it. “Mm! Super good. You were right about the lemon peel, it does add flavour!”

Kaminari beamed, already mixing up another drink. “Here, Todoroki, try it!” He practically shoved the glass at Todoroki, sloshing some of the liquid over the side.

Todoroki blinked in surprise. “Uh, thanks.” He looked down at the glass, frowning as he examined the contents. It seemed a little weird, but who was he to judge Kaminari’s mixology skills when he knew nothing about the subject?

Tentatively, he took a sip of the drink. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad. A little bitter and the chunks of lemon peel were kind of weird, but overall it tasted pretty good. Shrugging, he tilted his head back and downed the rest in one go.

When he looked down, Kaminari and Mina were staring at him with huge eyes, expressions of shock mirrored on both of their faces.

“Dude, you’re not supposed to chug it!” Kaminari shouted, barely getting the words out between bursts of laughter.

Todoroki blinked down at the empty glass in his hand. “Oh.” He frowned.

“Still, those are insane skills you got there, Todo. I want you on my team next time we play beer pong,” Mina added, watching him with jealous eyes.

Todoroki had no idea what ‘beer pong’ was but figured it was one of those things that he would be made fun of for if he asked, so he kept quiet.

“Okay, now—who wants jello shots?!”

~*~

Thirty minutes later, Kaminari and Mina had introduced him to a whole array of new drinks, some of which he was suspiciously sure had only been invented that evening.

Surprisingly, he was actually starting to enjoy himself. The alcohol surrounded him in a pleasant buzz, steadily clawing away at his fierce barriers until he was laughing along with the other two.

“Okay, try this—pink lemonade, beer, and that weird rum Shinso likes.” Kaminari held out a glass, giggling so hard the cup shook in his hand.

“Ew!” Mina cried, sticking her tongue out in revulsion. “Kaminari, that sounds disgusting!”

“Can’t know ‘til you try it.” Kaminari raised the glass to his lips and took a long sip, spilling half the contents down his front. Giggling, he pulled away. “Oops. Here, Todo, you gotta try!”

Normal inhibitions dissolved, Todoroki accepted the cup and downed the rest of the drink.

“Dude, you should do karaoke with us!” Kaminari gasped suddenly, eyes lighting up with excitement. He grabbed the mic from the counter where he’d discarded it while they made drinks. “I bet you have a hella gorgeous voice.”

“Yeah!” Mina cut in, waving enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, you can’t be any worse than this idiot.” She snatched the mic from Kaminari, giggling at his gasp of outrage.

“Rude!” he cried, trying to grab the mic back.

“Omg you two. Cut it out,” Jirou said, suddenly appearing as if summoned by the prospect of music. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “If you keep arguing we’re never gonna get Todoroki to sing.” She held out an insistent hand. “Give it.”

Mina sighed and reluctantly handed over the mic. “Fineeeee. But only because I wanna see Todoroki sing.”

Jirou smirked and held the device out to Todoroki, ignoring Kaminari’s dramatic whine as he stumbled over his own feet trying to get over to the karaoke machine and collapsed into the pile of pillows that littered the floor.

“Oh, uh, no thanks,” Todoroki said quickly, taking a step back. No way was he going to sing in front of all his classmates.

“Aw, come on!” Mina cried, pouting. “It’s just for fun!”

Todoroki shook his head, taking another step back. “I don’t want to.” Or at least, he shouldn’twant to. But for some reason he didn’t feel all that opposed to the idea. Which was strange because he would never normally consider singing in front of people.

“Aw, don’t be such a scaredy cat, man!” Kaminari whined from the floor. He sat up, messy hair flopping over his eyes. “How come you can face villains without batting an eye but singing a little karaoke has you shaking?”

Todoroki frowned, genuinely perplexed by the blunt statement. When Kaminari put it like that, it did seem rather silly. Surely there wasn’t any harm in giving it a go… Midoriya always encouraged him to try new things.

“Okay,” he said, utterly shocking the three students gathered around him.

Mina gaped at him. “Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll do it,” Todoroki clarified, taking the mic from Jirou’s limp hand.

It only took a moment for Mina’s excitement to return in full force. Squealing in delight, she ran over to set up the karaoke machine. “What song do you want?”

Todoroki shrugged. He probably wouldn’t recognise any of the songs anyway. He’d never been very caught up on the current popular music. “What do they have?”

“Hm…” Mina tapped her chin. “Come look.”

Todoroki nodded, moving over to peer at the little booklet in Mina’s hands. After scanning the list of unfamiliar songs, his eyes finally settled on a familiar title and his heart gave a little leap of excitement. “This one,” he said, running his finger over the small print.

Mina’s eyes widened. “Dude! I didn’t know you liked the Greatest Showman?!”

Todoroki nodded solemnly, as if this should be common knowledge. “It’s an artistic masterpiece.”

Kaminari giggled from the floor. “Kay, let’s hear it then, Mr. artistic masterpiece.”

Mina broke into a violent fit of laughter as she pressed the ‘start’ button on the screen. “Alright, take it away!”

Todoroki raised the mic to his lips and breathed out a slow sigh, watching the TV screen as the opening notes of “This Is Me” filled the room. He almost felt like he was floating, riding a giddy wave of euphoria that really shouldn’t come from standing in front of a crowd. But this was happening and he felt greatso he sucked in a deep breath and began to sing.

“I am not a stranger to the dark. Hide away, they say, ‘cause we don’t want your broken parts. I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars. Run away, they say, no one’ll love you as you are. But, I won’t let them break me down to durst. I know that there’s a place for us. For we are glorious.”

Cheers erupted from his fellow classmates, sending his heart stuttering with a strange exhilaration. Feeling a little like he was whirling through an extremely realistic dream, Todoroki started the chorus with a heightened sense of conviction.

“When the sharpest words wanna cut me down. I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out. I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be, this is me.”

By the time the song ended, Todoroki was positively glowing, his mind swept up in a giddy whirl of excitement.

The others seemed just as excited, whooping and hollering as Todoroki set the mic down.

“Omg! That was amazing!” Mina squealed, grabbing his hands and spinning him around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.

“Thanks,” Todoroki gasped. Even though Mina had let him go, the room continued to spin around him, creating the unpleasant sensation that he was on one of those spinny theme park rides. He swallowed, reaching out for the wall to try and steady himself. God, he was dizzy.

“You should sing more often! You have such a pretty voice!” Mina continued, still bouncing around in excitement.

“Yeah!” Kaminari enthused, stepping up beside them and throwing an arm over Mina’s shoulder.

Todoroki barely heard them. Suddenly he wasn’t having fun anymore. The swaying room sent his stomach pitching and he wanted nothing more than to lie down on the floor and close his eyes until the spinning went away.

The others seemed to notice his distress, voicing their concerns as they pressed in on him.

“Whoa, you okay bro?” Kaminari asked, eyeing him warily.

Todoroki nodded, mumbling a feeble reply. “Yeah.” His body burned with an uncomfortable heat, entirely different from his own fire. “Jus’ gonna si’down for a mi’te.” He stumbled toward the couch, reaching out blindly as he tripped over his own feet.

Suddenly Kirishima was there, catching his swaying body before he could fall and guiding him over to the couch.

Todoroki groaned, closing his eyes when the change in position aggravated his already queasy stomach. He sucked in a few deep breaths, pressing his cheek against the couch in an attempt to ground himself.

“You good?” Kirishima asked, crouching down next to the couch and laying a hand on Todoroki’s shoulder.

Todoroki nodded feebly, wincing when the small movement intensified his dizziness. Even with his eyes closed the room seemed to spin in lazy circles around him. He swallowed. “Yeah. Jus’ got kinda diz’y.”

Kirishima hummed in understanding. “Yeah, that’s the downside to alcohol. I think maybe you should slow down for a bit, man.”

Just the thought of drinking anything more sent his already uncomfortable stomach churning. He swallowed again, shifting a little on the couch to try and get more comfortable.

“He okay?” A voice suddenly spoke above them

Mina and Kaminari gathered around the couch, watching Todoroki in concern.

Kirishima nodded, hand still on Todoroki’s shoulder. “I think he just had a little too much to drink,” he explained.

Mina and Kaminari exchanged guilty looks.

“Oh…” Mina breathed.

Kirishima frowned, brow furrowed in suspicion. “What did you guys do?”

“Nothing!” Kaminari defended, waving his arms wildly. “We were just making drinks. Todoroki was all for it!”

“Yeah! We didn’t force him or anything,” Mina added.

Kirishima sighed. “Fine, fine. I believe you.” He glanced down at Todoroki’s pale face. “I guess he’s just not really used to drinking.”

Kaminari couldn’t suppress a grin. “Omg, who would have ever guessed perfect IcyHot was such a lightweight!”

Todoroki pressed his face further into the cushions, trying to block out the sounds of the others talking. He really didn’t feel well. And Midoriya was still out with Yaoyorozu looking for stupid frozen pizza. Why oh why had he come to this stupid party?!

Another wave of nausea slammed over him, this one noticeably stronger. The taste of liquor brushed the back of his throat, bitter and rancid against his tongue. Gross—why was he tasting it again now?

You’re going to throw up, his mind supplied, almost as if it was annoyed with his inability to put the clues together.

Shakily, he pushed himself upright, swaying when dizziness slammed against him. He forced his eyes open, searching desperately for any indication of where Kirishima’s bathroom might be. Why hadn’t he asked about that earlier?

“Hey man, you okay?” Kirishima asked, startled by Todoroki’s sudden movement.

Todoroki swallowed, eyes falling to the ground. He knew he should get up and try to run to the bathroom, but his head was still spinning and he couldn’t get his limbs to respond.

“You aren’t looking so good… are you feeling sick?” Kirishima asked tentatively.

Todoroki nodded, pressing a fisted hand to his mouth to stifle a sudden burp. “I don’ wanna drink anym’re,” he mumbled, trying to swallow back the bitter saliva that suddenly flooded his mouth.

“I think he’s gonna hurl,” Kaminari put in, earning him an eye roll from Mina.

“Yeah, no kidding, dude. He’s greener than Midoriya’s hair.”

Todoroki groaned, closing his eyes again as his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. “‘M gonna throw up,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the hand covering his mouth.

“Shit, yeah, okay,” Kirishima swore, jumping to his feet. “Think you can make it to the bathroom?” He didn’t wait for a response, already grabbing Todoroki’s arm and dragging him to his feet.

Todoroki tried to steady himself, but as soon as he was on his feet, all traces of control evaporated and his stomach gave a violent heave and vomit rushed up his throat. He tried to bend over, but he was too dizzy to navigate properly and most of the vomit spilled down his front. He whimpered, coughing miserably.

“Shit!” Kirishima gasped, grabbing Todoroki’s arm as he swayed dangerously.

“Sor—” Todoroki tried to say, but was cut off by another rush of vomit. He wiped a hand across his mouth, groaning.

“Okay, okay. Come on. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” Kirishima hauled him across the room and down the first hallway, only just managing to get Todoroki situated over the toilet before he heaved again.

“I wanna go home,” he mumbled, gripping the edge of the toilet as he swayed. “C’n you get Izuku?”

Kirishima reached out, sweeping Todoroki’s fringe out of his eyes. “Midoriya isn’t here right now. He’s out with Yaoyorozu. But he’ll probably be back soon.”

Todoroki gave a miserable little sob, collapsing over the toilet with his arms laid across the lid to keep himself upright. Tears welled in mismatched eyes, blurring his already hazy vision. Kirishima was being really nice about the whole thing, but he wasn’t Midoriya. No one could replace Midoriya.

**To be continued**

26 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Ghost Busted || Morgan, Adam, Jasmine, Nell, &Constance

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @walker-journal @halequeenjas @nelllraiser @constancecunningham

SUMMARY: Morgan’s plan to bind Constance gets busted.

CONTAINS: gun use (salt rounds)

Binding a soul wasn’t much more complicated than binding anything else, as it turned out; not in terms of ingredients, at least. Morgan was able to gather the herbs on her own, mostly foraged, to save her pride at the Eye of Newt, but to adhere as closely to the spell instructions, she braved Vera’s judgmental looks for the last few things. Now it was time to take stock and go over the plan one last time before doing the binding. Morgan felt for the bottle in her bag. Still there. As far as she understood it, just about any vessel that could be marked with the right sigils would do, but using any of the tiny jars she had left from her crafting days made her feel uncomfortable. They seemed so small, keeping someone in there just seemed so...unsafe. And what if she could somehow see Constance staring at her through the glass? The thought made Morgan shudder too much, so she got a nice arcane looking, opaque, ceramic jar.

The day was bright, the kind you painted on a greeting card for fall. Morgan turned at the sound of footsteps, not certain how much she should smile, with Jasmine and Adam at least partially on the fence. But this was a net good for everyone. A bottled ghost was going to kill a lot less people and cause a lot less chaos than a free range one. After they did this, she could figure the rest out on her own if it came to it. Morgan offered a small wave. “Uh, hey?” she offered. “Did you...get everything you needed okay?”

Apparently, Nell was the first back from her little monster hunting excursion. In truth, she would have preferred to still be out gathering spell items for many reasons, but the primary one stemmed from the little guilt monster that was gnawing away at her stomach. Now that she’d talked about exorcising Constance at the first chance possible with both Jasmine and Adam, it was emotionally difficult to sit here and pretend as if everything were still going according to plan, sitting next to Morgan as if nothing had changed and she would still get her revenge. But it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. There’d been multiple occasions in which she’d had to make decisions that her friends wouldn’t like for the benefit of themselves and others. Still...that didn’t mean it got any easier. Nell could only hope that Morgan might be forgiving in the long run, and still want something to do with her at the end of the day. “Yeah, I got them,” she answered as she held up her trophies. “Are the others back, yet?” Taki, her Ovinikk familiar, hadn't been far behind- looking proud as anything while he carried a few grathered herbs between his teeth.

Nell kept her response short, not wanting to say much else when she was caught up in wondering whether or not her and Morgan’s friendship would make it to see the end of the week. “I’m just gonna look over the stuff again, too.” Then she gingerly plopped herself onto the ground next to a basket of herbs, muttering to herself about their quality and picking through them with a careful hand as a means of keeping herself busy, and hopefully safe from too much conversation.

Chickcharney feathers, a catalyst for the curse. The larynx of an Aravo to bind their voice. The pelt of an Aufhocker to weigh them down to earth. A heart burst by a Carach’s fractoxtin to remind them of heartbreak. The exoskeleton of a Dearoile, to echo their life’s pain. A bone from a Gashadokura slain a century ago, to rekindle memories of fleshly deprivation A Valravn skull medallion, a symbol of death as the inescapable devourer.

Adam entered and began to place these cheery trophies of several weeks hunting in their assigned places, thoughts heavy with the twisted moral balance of what was about to transpire.

There had been no doubt in her mind that Jasmine was doing what was necessary. Whatever grudge Morgan had against this ghost mattered very little in the big scheme of things. Her ingredients had been more or less easy to gather. A mix of herbs and different salts. She was never without iron flakes and rods either. Once she had made it back to their meeting spot, she mentally began envisioning where she could lay out a salt circle. It wasn’t entirely necessary for a typical banishment, but it made things easier. Even if she had any intention of playing along with this whole binding the ghost until Morgan found a way to torture her, she’d be taking these same precautions. It all lined up with what they were doing here, just instead of Nell doing the binding, she’s simply banish Constance. Whether or not she deserved worse would be up to whatever cosmic power she faced after being thrown out of this plane. “It sounds like we’re ready then,” she said as she contemplated laying out a circle. She turned to Nell with a knowing look in her eye, “So, when are we doing this? Did we want to go ahead and knock this out before anyone else is hurt?

Constance didn’t feel at home in the manor. The walls reminded her too much of the ones she had dusted and cleaned for the Bachmans, and the environment was so unmoving save for spare objects that were fiddled with and tossed by spirits. Constance preferred to take them out to the woods where the oaks grew tall and remembered everything, even her. Or to the lake, veiled in mist and shining waters. “And did you know!” She cried, turning to Nancy trailing behind her in strange garb that had come into fashion after her death. “I taught her everything she knew about magic. Her mother was a beastly woman with no talent in her right fingernail, doing charms I had managed practically with my intuition. I gave Agnes the keys to the kingdom of the gods, which makes me the reason that tiny, ugly cow Morgan could tap into any of her magic at all. But, oh! The raptures we would find in these woods. They weren’t half so thick, and we felt so fearless and bold hiding here and--”

The sound of other voices made her stop and drift up into the trees. She had gotten better at this now, having so many ghosts to practice with and help her along. Most of the faces were familiar. Morgan, of course, tramping her muddy boots through her woods. The girl from the summoning. The boy from the classroom. And then some other woman, but if she was in league with the others, then she couldn’t be any more trustworthy. She hovered in the soggy gold and red of autumn leaves still hanging on, knowing that Morgan could see her always. There were strange things being passed, salt, herbs, some runes she recognized, and a jar.

“Those cruel, treasonous fiends,” Constance hissed. Did Blanche know about this? Was she just biding her time, placating Constance until this very moment, when she might be trapped forever? Or until such time as a suitable punishment could be given? As if being stripped of her liberty, of everything but her consciousness wasn’t punishment enough. “Nancy,” Constance whispered. “You said we could play a game today, right?”

Morgan wrapped Nell into a quick hug. “Thanks, Nell,” she said quietly. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” She nodded to the others, smiling tensely. They weren’t thrilled to be here, that much was obvious, and she wasn’t sure if any kind of thanks would smack with passive aggression she didn’t intend. “It looks like we’re gonna be all set, and the town is going to get a lot safer once we’re done and she’s all tucked a-- fuck. Nell, get down!”

Morgan grabbed the young witch and shielded her with her body as she saw Constance come soaring out of the trees. And this time, she wasn’t alone. Her iron rod was at her hip, she could give her a good whack or two and be done, but she couldn’t leave Nell vulnerable, and there was Adam and Jasmine to consider. “Okay, uh--new plan!” She screeched. “We get some salt lines down and nobody dies today, how about that?”

With the waking nightmares gone, the ghosts had also returned to their normal state of invisible. As it were Nell would have had not a single clue that Constance or Nancy had appeared if it weren’t for Morgan and Taki. Blindly following Morgan’s command, she ducked— hoping that whatever she was dodging might simply fly over her. It took a moment for Nell to make the connection between salt and spirit, and then she could only assume that it was Constance who had come for them. “Is it her? Constance?” she asked both Jasmine and Morgan. Taki’s fur had bristled into an enormous ball of fluff the moment the ghosts had appeared, hissing and spitting in disgust as the spirits approached. Remembering that last time Taki had met Constance at the ghost’s summoning and how it had ended with the familiar in the pet hospital, Nell instinctively picked up the dog-sized cat. Shit- they needed salt like Morgan had said. Focusing her magic for a split second, Nell Summoned the table salt from home, a blue canister blinking into existence in her hand. Then another appeared in her other palm, and Nell silently thanked Bea for sometimes buying in bulk. “Here!” she called before tossing the salt container to Adam. Hastily, she began to draw her salt circle, first using it to encompass the spell ingredients. Losing them would be too much of a set back to risk.

In another town, if people just started freaking out for no visible reason and tossed him salt, Adam might have questions, concerns even. However Adam was becoming accustomed to weird improv game that invisible spookums entailed that he just caught the salt contained and got to work putting circles around the important stuff.

This was all happening more quickly than Jasmine could have anticipated. As a familiar chill ran over her, she felt her whole body tense. No, not now. Not while Nell was here and she didn’t even have a proper circle yet on the ground. This was less than ideal, but she could make do without the circle if it was just a simple banishment. Minimal distractions would be needed so she had to trust Nell and Adam could hold down the fort if Morgan threw a fit about what she had to do. Once she actually caught a glimpse of the ghost, her mouth dropped. Even if she never planned on going through with the torture, it was still shocking that she wanted to torture an actual kid. “Seriously,” she shot a glare at Morgan, “How old is this ghost? Sixteen? You want to torture a teenager?”

She shook her head and didn’t need any further motivation to push forward with the exorcism as planned. It hardly mattered to her whether or not Morgan approved of the decision. “Nell, stay back and keep everyone away,” she directed as she took her place in the room. A haphazard salt circle was laid out on the floor and she stood directly outside as she began the familiar incantation she followed for banishment rituals. The air was whipping around them, but she knew she could do this. It was only a banishment, she just needed Morgan to stay away. She could feel the familiar bolt of energy going through her as she spoke the words. Her eyes remained on Constance who was getting pulled closer toward the circle as she chanted. She could feel the fight in her, but this was the kindest outcome for her.

“Fucking Stars, she’s nineteen and a few centuries! How is that important right now!” Morgan screamed. She wasn’t going to make Constance into Jasmine’s problem. She would find her own exorcist, and maybe a plan B or C just in case they crapped out on her. Morgan was pulling Nell back to the Subaru. She was trying to shield her with her body and fish out her salt at the same time. “Salt outside the car and get inside, okay?” She turned to Adam, pointing furiously at the car, “Stuff is replaceable, you are no--!” She didn’t quite finish, because the roar in the air grew quiet and she heard Jasmine--chanting? Morgan whirled. “What are you doing? That’s not the binding, what the hell is that?”

A burst of force knocked her to the ground and dragged her through the salted earth until her head collided with a tree. It happened so fast, Morgan’s vision blurred. She grimaced, reaching for the salt pistol clumsily to her belt when she looked up and saw… some 1950’s barbie with a snapped neck. “Who the fuck are you?”

Constance screamed to the heavens. At last her body held some gravity, but it wasn’t binding her to the earth. She was being dragged towards a circle. She didn’t need to see its sigils to know it would mean her end. “Nancy!” She screamed. The leaves rose from the ground at her cry, the trees trembled. Control. A strong spirit was like a strong witch; she needed control.

All the herbs and magic playthings Morgan’s brood had gathered froze in the air, and with them, the two bodies not protected by Blanche Harlow’s words. She did not see Nancy lift her concentration, much stronger and better practiced than her own, to do likewise, nor how she approached the circle to take her place. There was an evil scream from Morgan, then the world shattered and bodies flew.

As Morgan tugged her towards the car, Nell did her best to wrestle from her grip, not keen in the least to let Jasmine and Morgan take the brunt of whatever it was the ghosts had come to accomplish. “I’m not gonna hide in the car!” she refused, though her indignance was also cut short as the exorcist began her ritual. Would Morgan retaliate? Try to stop Jasmine from doing her job? The witch wouldn’t get an answer as an invisible force threw her backwards along with the others. She landed roughly, arms scraped open by the assorted twigs and rocks of the forest floor when she’d tried to catch herself in a roll, trying to shield Taki from ricocheting off the ground as well. It was then that she officially decided that fighting ghosts was the single worst thing in the world and all its realms to go up against. How was she supposed to stab something she couldn’t see? She couldn’t even stab them to begin with. With a frustrated growl she rose from where she’d landed, wincing as her body protested the movement. The Ovinikk leapt from her arms, making a beeline towards the ghost named Nancy before erupting in an angry and thunderous dog’s bark, doing his best to ward off the spirit. Following his line of sight, Nell plucked the salt canister from where it had landed before blindly tossing its contents in the direction of the familiar’s barks, hoping it might miraculously find a hit.

Not for the first time, Adam found himself sprinting as things he couldn’t see turned his surroundings into an obstacle course. Autumn leaves were a dry whirlwind of red and gold as uncontrolled telekinesis and the sacred energies of exorcism caught everything in spiritual turbulence. Bowls and canisters shattered, sending shrapnel of glass and pottery zipping through the supernatural gale. The contradictory smells of pungent herbs and the frigid sterility of fall wind filled Adam’s nostrils as he booked it towards where the cars were parked, trying to not get pulverized as he ran across the grove.

Trying to pry off the windborn leaves that kept getting plastered against his eyes and mouth, Adam knelt by the closest car and started slating a circle around it. Adam’s world spun a bit as a stray herb bowl hurled from out of ritual space and shattered against the back of his neck. The ex-Hunter blinked flaring white spots from his vision and ignored the trickle of hot warmth down the back of his back.

His eyes cleared enough to see Morgan get flung against the tree with a blunt cracking sound.

Shit...well um, least she was already dead right?

Then Morgan started asking more nonexistent people who they were.

...that’s not good

How quickly things could spiral out of control wasn’t entirely new to Jasmine though it was different when it was just her and a ghost. Knowing how close Nell and this Adam kid were only steeled her sense of determination. The kids weren’t getting hurt on her watch even if it meant having to go up against two ghosts on her own. She laid more salt down and kept her eyes firmly between Constance and Nancy as she yelled out, “Nell, Adam. Car now. Morgan, not now. I keep the ghosts from killing us and you get the kids out of here.” There wasn’t time for Morgan to fight her on this. Constance was undeniably strong and her friend seemed to have been practiced, too. It was inconveniently her friend that was now bound to the circle as the air whipped around them at an impossible speed. Jasmine dug her heels in the dirt to try and stabilize herself against the whirlwind happening around her, but found she found herself floating in the air alongside Morgan and all the items they’d gathered.

The howls of air swirling were hard to shout over especially with no stable ground beneath her feet and Constance’s shriek still ringing in her ears. She had to keep pushing if any of them were going to make it out of this. Nancy was bound to the circle and it didn’t seem like Constance was going to join anytime soon. They couldn’t fight off both of them and Jasmine felt the fear creep up on her. Making the hair on her arms stand on end and added to the dizziness she was feeling from above the ground. Her words weren’t steady as she was whipped around, but not a syllable was missed. Right now, getting rid of one ghost would have to do as she kept going with the banishment ritual she knew like the back of her hand.

After what felt like an eternity, her chants drew to a close and Nancy simply disappeared forever. It’s what she wanted to do with Constance, but she already felt entirely too drained to perform another banishment. The floating in the air only furthered the feeling of unsteadiness, until she was no longer in the air. It was all very sudden after Nancy was gone that she found herself being thrown into the tree. The crack of bone against wood was enough to make her nauseated and she let out a pained shout as pain shot through her left arm. “Bitch,” she screamed knowing she had little else to stand on and her iron rod was too far away for her to grab in her condition.

Constance saw it all and yet was powerless to do a thing. The gravity on her body ebbed, all the energy she’d been pouring into fleeing sprang back and she shot into the trees, watching from the branches as Nancy disappeared without so much as an ‘I’m sorry.’ A thought came to her as lightning: this cruel departure had always been Nancy’s plan. If not to use her as a bridge off this miserable world so she need not bear pretending to care, then to grant Constance more time. Either way, she was utterly abandoned. Was this the so-called pleasure of lifting her gaze to anything beyond her one wish?

“You monster!” She screamed, flinging herself back down to the ground. She reached for the woman’s bent arm, as if she could will herself solid and snap it like so many twigs. The trees screamed with her as she wailed. To think she had ever considered Morgan’s friends worth sparing, that to be direct and careful was the only and best way to fulfill the fate she had written. Not anymore, maybe not ever. Constance wanted to burn it all, and for their remorse to be written on every human face as too little, too late.

Bang. A salt round fired through Constance and exploded into the trunk of a tree. The ghost turned just in time to see who had done it. Her mouth opened to scream just as she dissipated. Morgan stood crooked and seething as her spine knit itself back together. Her pistol dangled lip in her fingers. “You’re welcome,” she growled. “Now please explain to me what the hell was going on with that. You could have just taken her with iron, with literally anything else…” The last of her vertebrae snapped into place and she was able to look around. The herbs, irrevocable. Jar, smashed. Hides and fluids, destroyed. If Constance was going to be bound out of trouble, they would need to start from scratch. But there was something else that nagged at her worse. For a moment that had gone so completely off the rails, there was a serious lack of surprise and confusion among her friends. A lot of the attention was on her, and it didn’t seem like the ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘we’ll try again’ variety. “What’s going on…?”

Once the winds had returned to normal, and Morgan stopped shooting at thin air, Nell presumed the coast was clear. Crouching next to Jasmine, she took in the awkward angle the exorcist’s arm had been broken into, grimacing in sympathetic pain. “We gotta get you to the hospital.” Then as an afterthought— “You have insurance, right?” She wasn’t about to willingly lead someone else to thousands of dollars in debt. Jasmine’s injury had sparked the fire of worry in Nell’s belly, but Morgan’s question ignited it into a full blown flame, guilt beginning to pool. “I agreed...that Constance should be gotten rid of if the moment presented itself.” She was used to taking the fall with her sisters, so it came naturally to try and focus the blame on herself in this situation as well. Besides, it only felt right when she’d essentially betrayed the trust of her friend. It was true that Nell had never promised against exorcising Constance, but she’d also agreed to helping Morgan do it her way, and the two paths weren’t all that conducive. “I’m sorry,” she replied reflexively, not knowing what else to say.

It was becoming increasingly more apparent to Jasmine that Morgan hardly had her priorities straight. She was injured and others had been put in danger’s way yet her biggest worry was the fact she tried to get rid of said dangerous ghost without torturing her. Not to mention the ghost was practically a child. None of it sat well with her and she found anger boiling over in her. “What do you mean what the hell was I doing? In case you didn’t notice, we had a ghostly tag team try to kill us? Or did you not notice my extremely broken arm here… which, hey, kind of your fault for not wanting to handle this in an even remotely responsible way. A cast is going to clash with literally my entire wardrobe,” she huffed out as she tried to gesture to her broken arm but failed as she winced in pain. She shot Nell a look, “Nell, you don’t have to take the blame for this. I would have tried to get rid of the murderous ghost with or without your approval. That’s literally why I have these powers to begin with.” She quickly looked back to Morgan and rolled her eyes, “Look, I get you’re pissed and have your whole torture revenge thing, but your feelings aren’t more important than people’s lives. Which should be glaringly obvious.”

“I dissipated Constance in two seconds and I could’ve done the same with vintage Barbie too! We could have finished this just fine!” Morgan snapped. “And if you didn’t notice, I was protecting the kids while you were busy doing some kind of banishment instead of walking them into thin air!” But there was something more, something worse, and it made Morgan deflate and back away from them all. What did Nell mean by ‘agreed’ to do something in the ‘moment.’ Morgan played back all of their last conversations, searching for the time when Nell had said, sorry Morgan, but no, I think this is bullshit. She’d posed some questions, she was afraid of there being more collateral damage than there needed to be, but she never said she didn’t want to. She’d said she would help Morgan. They’d talked about what was happening to her powers. Hot chocolate. Movies. Her mom. Everything but stepping out of this. “If we had just stuck to the plan, no one else would have gotten hurt,” she said, her voice trembling with shock. “Which apparently doesn’t matter to either of you, but don’t throw your choices on me like I don’t give a shit.” She searched for Adam in the midst of them. “What about you? After all the times I said you didn’t need to do anything you didn’t want to. Was this your idea too?”

“Nope,” Adam stated with blunt honesty as he stepped out of the salt circle and walked to the back of his car. He popped the trunk up with a click and the footballer’s head vanished into the cargo space. Some clicking and unlatching sounds were followed by Adam remerging with a tan military medic’s kit slung over one shoulder.

Adam crossed the rubble-strewn ritual space, tennis shoes crunching on pottery shards and autumnal leaves. He took a knee by the ladies and unzipped the tactical med kit with the purposeful calm of someone used to tending to grizzly battlefield wounds.

He produced a tincture of watery translucent goo with the depiction of a grotesque goblinoid creature with a distended barracuda-like jaw and bone claws on the label. “You’ll want some of this for the pain,” Adam said to his companions offering them the anesthetic tincture of reified Rawhead salvia and a stopper. “Only a drop or two though, else you’ll get muscle paralysis and shit yourself,” he explained with that gentle bedside manner Hunters were famous for.

Adam furthered purposed a splint and bandages for Jasmine, along with the more sutures, gauze, and antibacterials for everyone’s general lacerations.

“Honestly Beck, I was just gonna stab you in the spine and hold Miss Hale at gunpoint till she exorcised Ginger Casper normally,” Adam admitted, speaking of assault and threats in an amiably conversational tone. “But it looks like they’d worked out something smarter than that already.”

Jasmine could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin despite the lightheadedness she was feeling. Between blood loss and banishing Nancy, she found herself pretty zapped in the blood sugar department. As much didn’t stop her from glaring at Morgan, “I told Nell to go to safety so there was no chance for either of them to hurt anyone ever again.” Her voice was getting weaker, but fire was pushing her nonetheless. “You’re going to end up just like them on your whole revenge path.”

She eyed Adam as he tried to give her something for the pain. Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Uhm, what the hell is that?” The mention of shitting herself was enough to make her wary of it, but if he was going to insist on patching her up she figured she better use it. It only served to make her more woozy as he went on and everything felt like it was spinning.

It was difficult to brace herself even with the numbness though Adam’s genius plan was enough to make her eyes widen. “Excuse me?” This kid was going to force her to perform an exorcism at gunpoint? “You were going to what?” She moved away as he had already placed the splint and muttered, “Ugh, you know what. Not a priority. Do you have a driver’s license? I’d like to see a real doctor and I can’t exactly drive like this.”

The entire situation had quickly dissolved into a shit show, and Nell wasn’t sure where to begin with Jasmine and Morgan. The witch didn’t have a defense for the choices she’d made other than the fact that she hadn’t wanted more unneeded innocent blood being shed on the path to ending Constance. And though Adam was doing his best to patch up what he could, it seemed that Jasmine wasn’t all that fond of possibly being made to complete an exorcism at gunpoint. Which was...fair enough. Nell wasn’t a mediator. She was better at creating tense situations than resolving them- especially when there was no common enemy to point anyone towards. The only way she knew out of a situation like this was to focus on an end task, and try to get the others to do that as well. “Let’s just get Jasmine more medical care,” she repeated, assuming the exorcist had already remembered that Nell didn’t have a car license. Latching onto the woman’s uninjured arm, she began to try and guide her towards Adam’s car.

The choice of whether or not to look at Morgan was one that took Nell a long pause to make, trying to decide if she wanted to see the hurt and disappointment that she was sure to find there. This was why she’d done her best to avoid the woman ever since she’d made her decision to get rid of Constance by whatever means were fastest. Ripping off the bandaid hurt less if the wound beneath it already had the chance to scab over. Finally she found Morgan’s eyes, knowing it was the coward’s choice not to face the consequences of her actions. But now what? What could she possibly say that would do any good to either of them? She wasn’t sorry for trying to get rid of Constance, even now. It was the right thing to do— minimizing collateral damage. The only regret she has was that of hurting her friend. “We should go,” was all she could settle on.

Adam’s hidden plan wasn’t all that surprising to Morgan, given his ‘barbed wire in a backpack’ ways and how quick he’d been to share his distaste with Constance’s age. It would be awkward in class, if the full moon didn’t kill him first, but it was nothing she couldn’t brace herself for. Jasmine’s cunning had tripped her up; most of the dutiful types she’d met in White Crest didn’t encumber themselves with lying to your face, but she’d remember not to let the exorcist’s confidence fool her into thinking that what she saw was what she got. It was Nell that left Morgan dumbfounded, staring slack-jawed and stupid as she helped carry Jasmine to Adam’s car, so focused that Morgan may as well have been a ghost herself. “Wow,” she said, too stunned to even put much venom behind her voice. “Not even an explanation, huh?” Morgan’s eyes burned as she spoke and she wished, bitterly, for even an ounce of banshee control so she could just stay hard and steady and leave. But her face was trembling on the verge of collapse, her voice full and ready to crack on the next breath. “I trusted you. I gave you a choice, so many choices, Nell, and I trusted you…” She hadn’t deluded herself into thinking she was nearly as important to Nell as Nell was to her. Nell had a family, a community that had seen her grow, friends her own age. It was an imbalance Morgan could live with, to feel like she had a family of her own. But she hadn’t reckoned on being worth so little that Nell could turn her back on her with ease, that she would be left alone in the underbrush as the sun cut red over the trees. It took all the self control Morgan had to turn her back on Nell in kind and get back to her Subaru. “So much for that.”

#ghost busted #wr nell #wr nell chatzy #wr adam #wr adam chatzy #wr jasmine #wr jasmine chatzy #wr chatzy #wr group chatzy #gun use tw #wickedswriting

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thechocoboos · 5 years

Text

Cor with a Daughter HC

Hey guys, it’s ya girl, thechocoboos, here to deliver some Cor HC bc he’s great!

In this scenario, that weird fucker Verstael makes female clones alongside the normal ones (so yes there are female MTs in this AU) and Cor steals one when he takes baby Prom away, so uh... It’s a mess, but it’s a cute mess.

So Cor was the one who stole baby Prompto away right? Right. So, turns out, Verstael made a female clone as well (that also means that in this au there are female MTs)

And guess what? Cor stole one of those too.

Just picture this: a scuffed up, young Cor Leonis on the run from the Empire with two little blond, freckled babies in his arms. I know. It’s cute.

Anyways

Cor knew he was supposed to return both babies, but the second he looked into the girl’s cornflower blue eyes, he knew he couldn’t give her up

It hurt enough to give up the boy after getting so attached in only a few days, but when she looked into his eyes, he vowed he’d raise her as his own

She had been so calm, merely sucking on her thumb while her brother (what he could only assume was her brother) was wailing his adorable little head off

Even so, he saw the fear in her sparkling blue eyes and promised that she would never have to feel that fear again; Papa Cor was gonna raise her in a safe environment

And he did.

He turned baby Prompto over and had to watch as he was put in the foster system, but he quietly adopted the girl as his own with no one knowing where she came from save for Regis and Clarus

Everyone else? Well, he simply told them that she was the niece of a distant relative that was unable to care for her

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you!” or “Aw, look at you bein’ a big ole softee.” is what everyone said, and it was always followed by, “What’s her name???”

“Poppy.” she may be the same poppy from the actor au but who knows

Papa Cor raised Poppy well

He always gave her the best toys and always, always left work early so he could pick her up from daycare with a warm smile and all

He’d pick her right up in his arms, earning a cute bubble of laughter from her and he’d ask, “How was my little princess’s day?”

All the women in the area swooned (me too)

Unfortunately, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows

In the beginning, Cor was terrified. He had no idea how to raise a child, and he didn’t even have baby furniture for a week (not to mention his apartment wasn’t babyproofed either like y i k e s)

He only survived through the help of his elderly neighbor, Gertrude. She was the mother of four kids and had more grandkids than he could count

But she was always willing to help him. “It’s not often that I see a single dad tryin’ to make it on his own like this,” She told him a couple months after he adopted Poppy, “But it always warms my heart to see a young father trying so hard. Keep it up, young man.”

And he did.

He stuck through it--through the potty training, through the tears, tantrums, incessant babbles and the waking him up in the middle of the night

He stuck through it all and never regretted it

When Poppy said her first words, he practically shouted for joy and even called Regis and Clarus up and the day after? Oh man, the trainees were scared to see such a smile on Cor’s face (he actually went easy on them that day so it was pretty nice for them)

Cor kept pictures of her in his office and always had a small pic of her in his wallet and i swear to you, if he ever had the chance to bring her up in conversation, he would brag and brag away

Poppy really liked reading and wasn’t a big fan of athletics or fighting, much to Cor’s relief

He tried keeping her away from politics and such, didn’t want her questioning too much, ya know?

Still, he knew he’d have to teach her basic combat, just in case (plus he knew one day she’d start dating and he didn’t trust those teenage boys…)

And he did. And surprisingly, as much as Poppy hated it, she was really, really good at it

Cor figured her out-of-nowhere skills at combat were due to the Empire, but he was more relieved than not that she hated fighting; it gave him some reassurance that she wouldn’t ever abuse her skills

Although it wasn’t a big concern in the first place, his daughter was pretty damn soft-spoken and shy; she hated conflict and fighting more than most

Overall, she was a tame kid

She followed the rules, listened well, was a fantastic student… Honestly, Cor counted himself lucky that she was such a good kid

Although whenever he mentioned it to Clarus, Clarus would only chuckle and say, “Yeah, you raised her that way, Cor.”

It always seemed strange to him, that he--a gruff, tough soldier--could raise someone so sweet and shy, but there many more moments where all he felt was pride--pride for himself and pride for his daughter

Still, Poppy had her faults: she had too big of a heart for her own good

She was always trying to bring in hurt animals or asking if they could get a dog or a cat (Cor ended up relenting when she was 10; they ended up with an elderly cat named Haggus and Poppy swears he’s the kindest cat ever)

And then there was her trusting nature. She was incredibly trusting and understanding; Cor was terrified that she’d get taken advantage of one day (all though, deep down, he knew she wouldn’t. At the end of the day, she was a Leonis and he raised her to be reasonable and carry a healthy amount of suspicion)

Sometimes when she was still little, he would worry about her getting into some shit or something going wrong and when he did, it would bug him in the back of his mind until he went to pick her up from daycare (he always gave her tighter hugs on those days)

Cor raised Poppy as his own, but he also told her that she was, in fact, adopted when she was around 11. He didn’t want her to find out through someone else and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could avoid questions about her mom or the strange barcode tattoo (he always told her to keep the barcode covered, and he was always so firm about it that she never dared to do otherwise)

Of course, he didn’t tell her the entire truth. Yes, she was adopted, but he still stuck by the story that she was the niece of a distant relative and eventually, Poppy stopped asking

And as previously mentioned, Cor kept Poppy out of politics and the Citadel

Like, there were a few times when she went to balls or social events (and everyone would always coo over how cute she was) and sometimes Cor might take her to work with him (when she was young), but outside of that, she was never really in the Citadel, not even when Cor was training her

However, whenever she was there, she ended up being around Noctis

There weren’t very many kids there besides her and Noct--sometimes Iggy (maybe Gladio, but he was always with the adults), so they often ended up hanging out

She’d see Gladio around here and there, too, and was pretty curious about him, but Noctis was always super reluctant to go talk to Gladio (let’s face it, Gladdy was probably a dick as a kid and tried to act older than his actual age, so basically, no fun for Noct)

They’d giggle together and run around the Citadel, playing games and goofing off while the adults went around with their boring chatter

Despite how much fun they had, those few social events a year were the only times they saw each other and as they got older, Poppy was able to stay at home instead of attending

So then, they stopped seeing each other at all

Cor always felt a little bad whenever she would ask about Noctis, but he was determined to keep Poppy and work separate (something he was very good at doing)

Still, despite all of Cor’s attempts, Poppy and Noct ran into each other again in high school

They were pretty quick to befriend each other again after a few weeks of awkward small talk, and when Cor found out, he couldn’t help but feel a tad annoyed (I mean, he’d been trying to keep her away from politics and shit for years)

Of course, through Noct, Poppy got to know Ignis very well (he was often in the background of those damn social events when they were kids, so they knew each other existed for sure)

Ignis was fairly fond of Poppy. He always said that she might be a good influence on Noctis.

Gladio was aware of Poppy and she was aware of him, and tbh, they thought the other was pretty damn cute but they never really interacted beyond group outings that centered around Noct (tho they would become surprisingly close down the line)

And Prompto? It was a bit of a weird thing

In summary: their first meeting was weird as fuck

Noct was the first one to befriend Prom, and the first time they properly met, he was absolutely S H O O K

Prompto was so similar to Poppy. They had the same freckles, the same cornflower blue eyes, same shade of hair… They even seemed to have the same inflections in their voices

The longer Noct was around Prompto, the more similarities he saw between him and Poppy and tbh… it weirded him out

And theeen… Then, there was the day that Prompto and Poppy met

Noct offhandedly mentioned that Prompto would be joining them at the arcade, to which Poppy eagerly agreed. Noct had mentioned Prom quite a bit, so at that point she figured that she should meet him

“Oh! I found Prom!” Noct said later, nodding his head towards Prompto’s familiar silhouette, “Hey, Prom!”

Prompto turned around of course, beaming as he walked closer to them in the arcade, “Hey, Noct! And you’re Poppy, ri-” He froze when he saw her

Her mouth was open to speak, but she couldn’t help but freeze when she saw him only a few feet away

It was like looking at a weird, distorted version of herself

Noct kept glancing between them, “Shit, I didn’t realize how similar you guys were until now.”

Luckily, it broke whatever weird spell they were under

Prompto managed to laugh it off and they had a quick, very awkward introduction before moving onto the arcade

It was strange and surreal for both Poppy and Prompto, and honestly, at first? Awkward as hell

They didn’t talk much to each other and seemed to be avoiding one another as best they could

Poppy even ended up going home earlier than planned, giving Noctis an apologetic smile and saying something about how her dad wanted her to help him with some pie (Cor hated pie so it was a bald-faced lie)

That evening, Cor could tell something was up

“Thought you’d be out with the Prince until pretty late.”

Poppy tried to dismiss his statement with a shrug, but Cor’s steady gaze and open silence pushed her for more info. “Just wasn’t feeling it. Met another one of his friends and it was kinda weird, ya know? His name’s Prompto and he’s plenty nice enough but…”

It clicked into place, and with a stoic nod, Cor didn’t ask any more questions. Internally, however, he was beating himself up

He knew very well it was the same Prompto he stole from the Empire with Poppy and he knew something like this would happen with her hanging around the Prince so often

It was only a matter of time before she pieced together some kind of connection and honestly? Cor wasn’t sure what to do when she did

Luckily for Cor, it was a long time before that happened

In the meantime, however, Poppy and Prompto somehow got over their awkward avoidance of each other (it was defo thanks to Noctis)

They ended up clicking very well. They’d finish each other’s sentences, laugh at the same damn stuff, freak out at the same things, and they were absolutely fantastic at teaming up together

Simply put, they became best friends. Noctis and Ignis were surprised at how well they got along, especially after the rocky start to their friendship, but at that point, they were practically stuck at the hip

Cor was uneasy as hell when it came to Prompto

There were times when Poppy’s friends were over and he was strangely tense (although he would always tell Poppy it was just at surprise at seeing the Prince in his apartment with his advisor and bodyguard)

Still, it was only a year before Noct left for his marriage to Lunafreya that Prom and Poppy found out about their barcodes

They had been goofing around like normal before deciding to try their hand at making cheesecake in Poppy’s kitchen

She didn’t want to get her long sleeves dirty and rolled them up, figuring that Prompto wouldn’t notice her wrist in their goofing around

Unfortunately, there were a few minutes of comfortable silence when he did

And boy did he clam up

“Uh… Poppy, is that uh, a tattoo?”

Poppy freaked out about it of course, “Uh, no--it’s just one of those fake stick-on tattoos ya know?” She had tried to lie her way out of the situation

“Oh--that's, that’s cool…” He didn’t believe it completely, “But,” but he had to try, right? “I actually have a similar one! Haha,”

“You do?” The seriousness in her voice was enough to cut all humor out of the room

“Y-yeah,” and he showed her.

Poppy felt the closest to understanding her damn tattoo than she’d ever felt before

Neither of them knew what it meant, but they felt an intense sense of solidarity and there was an unspoken pact between them from then on

They never really spoke about it for a long time, and Poppy never asked Cor. She was almost too scared to; she didn’t know what it meant and didn’t want to break their small family apart trying to figure it out

When she finally did find out, she was worried that Cor secretly hated her and that she was an abomination

Of course, Cor ended that pretty quickly. She ended up having a breakdown one night, and it was all Cor could do not to break down with her

He knelt down to look her in the eyes, holding onto her hands with his own just like whenever she fell as a kid and he wanted to cheer her up

“Poppy, you’re my daughter. I took you from that place and raised you myself. The second I looked you in the eye, you had me wrapped around your little finger. I could never hate you, not for spilling my favorite beer or waking me up when you were little, and definitely not for where you came from. You’re my kid, Poppy, and nothing’s gonna change that.” He managed to give her a shaky smile and earn one from her too, wrapping her in a big, comforting hug and making all of her worries disappear

“I love you, dad.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.”

Look i just love this ok. Give Me Papa Cor or Give Me Death.

B/c I’m a slut for a happy ending: Poppy did go on that road trip with the bros but guess what?

Luna lived, Noctis lived, they both got married and had some cute kids

Poppy ended up in a relationship with Gladdy (he kind of fell in love with how cute and sweet she was, plus the fact that if she had to she would kick his ass--which she did on multiple occasions)

Cor became a grandpa and both loved and hated it. He also never stopped giving Gladio hell.

Prompto married a swell gal and had some kids. Auntie Poppy spoiled them rotten btw

Regis and Clarus were proud Grandpapas, Iris and Poppy got along really really well (Iris said that if Gladio didn’t marry Poppy then she would)

Ardyn lived and became a weird trash uncle who spoiled the family kids and no one knows where he got his fortune from

Anyways, everyone lived happily ever after

Hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you want some more realistic plot hc!

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years

Text

Mama’s Home!

A/N: This is my last little blurb before I tuck away to finish KOS. Who knows how long that’ll take. I just really wanna devote all my time to getting it finished so that I can work on the possible sequel(s). Until then, here’s some fluff. Consider it the prequel to the Daddy Duty series. See you soon!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,014

There comes a point in every person’s life when you become tired.

Not physically tired, though that can function as a symptom, but tired of the current direction in life. You feel unfulfilled, underappreciated, and simply uninterested in continuing on your current path.

With the day that you had at work, you were finally tired. The job itself was filled with exciting opportunities and the chance to around the game you’d love since you were three years old. The office was a different story. What started as a fun and relaxed environment during the early stages of your career in Los Angeles was slowly turning into a hotbed of confusion and catty office politics. It was mentally exhausting to drag your body out of bed at 6 AM, kiss your husband and children goodbye, and walk into a place that seemingly caused more stress than the enjoyment it provided when you started.

In addition to draining the life from you, corporate America was pulling you away from your family. Before marrying Chadwick, you were adamant about continuing to work regardless of the family dynamics that came into play. A husband and kids would never keep you away from your dream occupation.

Then you had Micah and you began to sing a different tune. Working, for both you and your husband, had pulled you away from one too many dance recitals, parent nights, and soccer games. With Noah beginning to hit milestones on his way to the six-month mark, the thought of missing his first word or steps because of work was harrowing.

Walking into your home with the weight of the world on your shoulders, you took a deep breath to release the stress of the day. By 1 o’clock, you were over being stuck in your office, receiving more complaints than solutions, and decided to “work from home” for the rest of day. That was code for falling face first into your side of the California king in the master bedroom and sleeping until it was time to pick up Micah from school and usher her to soccer practice.

“Hey, boy, I’m the wrong parent. Ain’t no milk in these.”

“Mamamamamamama.”

“Your mama ain’t here, but I’m about to drop you off with her.”

You followed the spirited conversation between father and newborn son to Chadwick’s “office”, which lately had become Noah’s playroom and Chadwick’s hideaway when he the noise of the house became too much.

When you pushed opened the door, you paused at the threshold to observe the bonding moment. The Lion King blasted in the background while Chadwick sat on the beat up sectional and suspended Noah in the air above his head. Mimicking a bench pressing motion, Chadwick repeatedly brought Noah’s pudgy stomach to his face to blow raspberries into the child’s soft flesh, pulling high-pitched giggles from your son. Both of them were shirtless, making you smile outwardly while cringing on the inside.

“Why doesn’t he have on a shirt?”

Chadwick’s head whipped around to give you a wide-eyed stare that dissolved into a smile. “Baby! What you doing here so early?”

“Don’t try to ignore my question, Ashy,” you laughed on the way to stand behind his seated position on the couch. Noah kicked and gurgled as you got closer, wiggling out of Chadwick’s grasp and into your arms for a hug. “Hello, my prince. Can Mommy have some kisses?”

Your husband watched with a smile as Noah dropped wet, open-mouth kisses on both of your cheeks in response to your display of affection. “Damn, so Daddy don’t exist?”

“Should we give DaDa some kisses, Pookie?” You listened to Noah babble his response and smiled. “I think so, too. You go first.”

Noah awarded his father’s request with more wet kisses as he switched between parents before you leaned over the back of the couch to press your lips onto Chadwick’s.

“Why you here so early?”

“Why doesn’t he have on a shirt? I’ll answer your question after you answer mine.”

“It’s easier to clean his chest 100 times than to change his outfit 100 times because he can’t stop drooling. Sounds like somebody else I know. My baby always has a wet ass pillow.” Your light gasp and playful push to the back of his head made him howl with laughter which transferred to Noah. “Your turn. Why you here so early?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“You “don’t feel well” as in you’re catching a cold or you might be pregnant again “don’t feel well”? Because you say that every time you’re about to tell me we’re having a baby.”

You sighed while running your hand over Noah’s hair, “No, not this time. I think I just need to lay down or something. I’m gonna go upstairs and take a nap. Wake me up when it’s time to get Mikey.”

Your intention was to crawl into bed and take a nap to clear your head, but the men in your life had other plans.

Chadwick turned up his nose and looked to his son for answers, “Does Mama think she’s gonna leave us for a nap?”

“Mama!”

“Exactly. She can nap right here! C’mere, girl.”

“Aaron, stoooop,” you whined as he gripped your wrist to tug you back. “Let me go lay down. Please!”

“Nuh uh. Come over here and lay with us. What’s the point in going all the way upstairs to sleep when we got all this room on the couch? It’s time for this boy to take a nap anyway. C’mon.”

The will to fight was left in your office over thirty minutes ago. If laying next to Chadwick on the couch would offer some sort of relief from the headache building in the depths of your cranium, you would give it a shot.

With your bottom lip poked out like a petulant child, you trudged around the couch to join the boys.

Chadwick wasn’t content with you simply sitting beside him. He pulled you into his lap with ease, cradling you in one arm and Noah in the other. Your son’s chubby arms extended to get your attention and beg to be in the safety of your warm embrace. You happily granted his non-verbal request, placing him on your chest and rubbing circles on his bare back. Together, all of three of you crowded into one section of the couch in close contact to watch the Disney movie on the flat screen.

In the silence, Chadwick would glance down at you and his child, wishing that Micah was home from school to complete the bonding moment. Any time he got to have the three pieces of his world on his lap and in his arms, he welcomed with enthusiasm.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I know it’s more than wanting a nap.”

You sighed and snuggled into his chest, “I think I’m done working outside the home.”

“That is...not what I was expecting. Tasha Nicole Greene-Boseman wants to stop working? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Not stop, completely,” you stressed. “Maybe change directions? I don’t know. My head is all over the place.”

Noah’s deep breath and desire to cling to your shirt as he drifted in and out of sleep made you smile. Had you been at work, you would’ve missed this moment. Chadwick noticed the sadness beneath the happy expression, prompting him to use his index finger to tilt your head upward.

“I get it. I think about it, too.”

“About leaving the industry?”

“Sometimes,” he sighed. “It’s been a good down period this last year, but things are about to ramp up again. I might miss his first real word or his first step. FaceTime and videos help me to stay in the loop and all, but it’s not like being home with them and you.”

“I wouldn’t want you to give up your passion to stay at home.”

“You wouldn’t have to. I’d do it in a heartbeat if it came between watching my family grow.” Craning your neck, you looked up to meet the sincerity present in Chadwick’s eyes. “You’ll know when it’s time to come home. And, when you’re ready, we’ll be happy to have you here every day. Especially this one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He calls for you all day. He’ll look over there,” Chadwick explained, using his finger to direct your attention to the large portrait of you on your wedding day. “Reaching for you and wiggling around. Noah adores you.”

“What about Noah’s daddy? How does he feel?”

A small smirk embedded smile lines into Chadwick’s flawless skin before he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. “He feels like the luckiest man in the world. You’re my best friend and the woman I love. Whatever you decide to do will have my full support. If you want to stay home, we’ll figure out how to set up this space for a shared office. If you wanna keep working, we’ll work on getting a nanny. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you, baby.” You accepted another gentle kiss and sighed. “The only thing that would make this any more perfect is if Micah was here.”

“With Boop in here, there’d be no sleep for *anybody*. My girl is the life of the party. I wonder who she gets that from?”

“I don’t know! I was a homebody.”

“Says the woman that couldn’t wait until we were 21 so she could drag me to Magic City when I visited her in Atlanta one summer.”

“You say drag as if you didn’t wanna go!”

“That’s not the point,” Chadwick laughed. “All I’m saying is your party animal ways have been transferred to our little girl. Now, my boy is the calm one.”

“He’s my sweetheart. Watch this.”

Chadwick’s eyebrows quirked in curiosity as your smile dropped into an exaggerated frown. Small whimpers that doubled as fake cries out Noah on alert. His head popped up to look at you through glossy eyes to be sure that you were “crying.” For the first time since Chadwick had given it to him to silence his real tears, Noah pulled the pacifier from his mouth to pop it into yours. Satisfied with the way you “calmed down”, the youngest Boseman returned to his resting position with his thumb in his mouth.

Chadwick laughed with amazement and shock etched across his face. “When did he start doing that?”

“A couple days ago. He heard me yawn and thought I was crying. That’s my sweet boy,” you cooed as you cuddled him close to your chest.

Comfortable quiet settled over the room, leaving ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ to play in the background. Though your eyes were closed, you were far from slumber. Thoughts of having the time to take Micah to school every morning and teaching Noah from home until he was ready for kindergarten swirled into a beautiful fantasy, bringing a smile to your face. Being at home didn’t mean you had to start working. Consulting was an option and Yvonne was always reminding you that she’d love to add you to her event planning employment roster as the head of her administration department. Granted that meant becoming the fourth person on her team in total, but the opportunity to work with your best friend was exciting.

“What’chu smiling about,” Chadwick asked when he caught you mid-fantasy. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Oh, nothing. Just about how fun it’ll be to work at home and see my babies all day.”

“So you’ve made your decision?”

“I think I have,” you answered while smiling up at him.

He dropped a kiss on your forehead, “Good. You know I’m always here to help.”

“I’m glad you said that, because -”

“Here we go,” he groaned.

“What? We just have a few things to move out of here! Starting with this couch.”

“This is my favorite couch, baby!”

“We’ll get a better one.” Chadwick started to open his mouth to protest, but you silenced him with a kiss. “A better one. Mama’s home to stay!”

________________

The Renovated Home Office

______________

TAGS: @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama@afraiddreamingandloving @inxan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right@brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy@90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901 @maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee@halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx@profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly@melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku @lavitabella87@purplehairgawdess@unholyxcumbucket @airis-paris14 @uhlxis@oshasimone @maliadestiny@drsunshine97 @cozyshack2 @zxddy-panther@queentearra @skysynclair19 @retro-melanin @mermaidchansons @misspooh@melanisticroyalty @babygirlofwakanda @wakanda-4evr @sarahboseman @karensraisns@blackmissmarvel @wakandankings @kaykay4454fan@ororowrites@awkwardlyabstract @mixedmelanin @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers@sunflowerpsalms @panthergoddessbast@justanotherloveaffair @jaeee-http @iliketowrite1996 @blackpantherismyish@thompettiedatheaux @msincognito67 @reignsxjackson @yaachtynoboat711@syreanne @ilcb7@minim236 @yoyolovesbucky @chaneajoyyy

#Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman x reader #Chadwick boseman x you #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chad x coco #coco x chad #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #black panther fluff #black panther fics

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thelastspeecher · 7 years

Note

for the freeform prompts maybe with your Reverse Stanley mcgucket au Stan getting to reunite with the rest of the Mcgucket family after just coming back from the portal. please and thank you (and I love you blog :) )

Stan tried to calm hisnerves. Angie looked at him, clearlytorn between amusement and concern.

“Darlin’?” Angie saidquietly.

“Yeah?” Stan responded.

“Are ya nervous?”

“Would ya laugh if I said Iwas?”

“Oh, no, honey, not at all,”Angie said. Danny leaned forward in herseat to put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Dad, we get it. You still get weird around a lotta noise,”Danny said.

“And McGuckets make lots ofnoise,” Daisy added.

“Hon, we can call it off if yawant,” Angie said. Stan shook his head.

“No. I know your folks think of me as theirown. I don’t wanna be rude to ‘em.”

“They would understand,” Angiesaid firmly. Stan glanced out thewindow. His heart ached at the sight ofthe white farmhouse, orchard, barn, and pasture he’d spent years tendingto.

“We’re already here,” Stanpointed out.

“We can leave. Say the word.”

“No. I- I wanna see your folks.”

“Are ya sure?” Angie asked.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Angie parked the car. She turned around. “Kidlets, we’re here!” Daisy let out a low whoop. Emmett yawned widely and opened hiseyes. Emory didn’t move. “Daisy, wake up yer lil brother, would ya.”

“On it,” Daisy said. She opened her mouth.

“Without yellin’. We’re in a car, junebug.”

“Fine,” Daisy grumbled. She pulled on Emory’s caramel-coloredcurls. Emory mumbled something, butdidn’t wake up. “He’s not gonna wanna wakeup, Ma.”

“Figure it out,” Angie said,getting out of the car. Daisygroaned. Stan got out. He shoved his hand in his pocket and surveyedthe farm. Angie walked over to him. With a small sigh, she put her head on hisshoulder. “Ya look like yer deep inthought.”

“Nah. Not really.”

“Holy- they’re here!” A shout rang from the house. Angie and Stan looked over. Harper was standing on the porch, beaming. “Ya look more bear than man, Stanley.” Stan grinned.

“Your hair’s grayer than theSeattle sky,” Stan retorted. Harperchuckled. The front door opened, and twoother McGuckets exited. Violynn, herbright red hair faded with age, smiled fondly, as did Basstian, who stilltowered over his older siblings.

“Come on in, Stan, you’ve gotsome nieces and nephews what missed ya,” Violynn called. Daisy exited the car and began to head towardthe barn.

“Whoa, there, missy, where areya goin’?” Angie asked.

“Emory still won’t wake up. I’m gonna grab a chicken and put it on hishead,” Daisy replied.

“No, no ya won’t,” Stan saidquickly. “Just plug his nose until hewakes up.” Stan grinned at Angie. “That’s what I do with your ma.” Angie rolled her eyes, but planted a smallkiss on his cheek anyways.

“Let’s go inside.”

-----

Stan listened to Mason,Violynn’s youngest child and only son, talk excitedly about the classes he wasenrolled in for the fall.

“I can’t believe you’re incollege, kiddo,” Stan said, shaking his head.

“Almost done with my bachelor’sin vocal performance, actually,” Mason said proudly.

“Geez. The last time I saw ya,you weren’t even a teenager.”

�� “Have ya talked to Layla yet?”

“No. Why?”

“She and her partner areexpectin’.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Layla’s ‘bout eight months along already.”

“Wow.”

“It’s- it’s really good to seeya again, Uncle Stan,” Mason said quietly. Stan smiled at his nephew.

“It’s good to see you too.”

“So, what happened while youwere gone?” Mason asked. Staninstinctively tensed. The room, whichhad been filled with amicable chatter, suddenly became silent.

“Mason,” Violynn hissed.

“What? It’s a valid question,” Mason saiddefensively. “I mean, he was gone fertwelve years. Then he shows up outta theblue with scars and missin’ an arm. Clearly somethin’ happened tohim.”

“Mason, quit talkin’ ‘fore yadig yourself a hole deep enough to be yer grave,” Pa McGucket rumbled, sittingup straight in his armchair, where he had been dozing. Stan felt someone sit next to him on thecouch.

“Stanley, are you all right?” MaMcGucket asked gently, putting a careful hand on his shoulder. Stan nodded.

“Yeah, I- I’m fine,” Stan chokedout. He glanced around the room. “Where’s-”

“Emmett had a bit of a nervousfit, so Angie took him to the guest room to calm down,” Lute answered. “Poor kid ticked off our most irritable steerwhile he was playin’ by the pasture.”

“I can go get her,” Harper said,starting to get up from his chair. Stanshook his head, suddenly painfully aware of how he was the center of attention.

Andnot in a good way. In a “if we don’ttake care of him, he’ll break” kinda way. God, I’m so sick of bein’ treated like this.

“I’m fine,” Stan saidfirmly. He took a steadying breath. “Mason, what happened to me is a long story.”

“Stanley, ya don’t need toanswer his question,” Violynn interjected. She glared at her son. “He knowsbetter ‘n to bring up painful memories.”

“No, really, I- I should talkabout it,” Stan said. He idly scratchedthe stumpy end of his right arm.

“Only in a specific situation,”Michelle, Basstian’s wife, intervened. “Andin a controlled environment.”

…Ohyeah, she’s a shrink, isn’t she?

“This seems as good a time asany,” Stan insisted. Michelle pursed herlips. “And it’s not like it’s the firsttime I’ve told the story.”

Ipracticed it twenty times to make sure all the bullshit in it would hold up.

“If you’re sure…” Michellestarted slowly. Stan nodded.

“I am. But, uh, Mason, go grab your Aunt Angie,would ya?” Stan said. “Y’know, moralsupport or whatever.” Mason nodded andran off. Basstian cleared his throat.

“‘Fore that troublemaker getsback with the troublemaker ya married,” Basstian said, “Stan, I feel I shouldaddress the elephant in the room. Whyhaven’t ya gotten yourself a prosthetic yet?”

“Oh, for this?” Stan said,waving what remained of his right arm. “I’vebeen back like, a month. Fidds and Dannyjust moved onto the prototype phase. They brought some of their stuff here, so they could keep workin’ on it. I think they’re in the front yard right now.”

“Yer havin’ yer daughter andbrother-in-law build ya a prosthetic arm?” Harper asked.

“Well, yeah. For one thing, it’s free. For another, they’re the only people whowould be willing to make me an arm that can launch missiles.”

“Yer jokin’,” Harper saidflatly. There was a loud crash fromoutside.

“Uncle Fidds! Get the fire extinguisher!” Danny shouted. Stan raised an eyebrow at Harper.

“…Yer not jokin’,” Harperamended. Pa McGucket got up from hisarmchair.

“Better go see what sort ofdamage the grandkids did to the property this time.”

#in which Pa McGucket loves his grandkids but wishes they weren't so reckless and destructive #also I named Mason before we knew Dipper's real name so #(and thank you!)#Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU #McGucket Family #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #ficlet #my writing #ask #Anonymous

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

Text

Short Story #94: Wrath.

Written: 4/11/2017 Interwoven Week

Boris was the guy that people went to when they wanted somebody to disappear, or even die very violently. His actual name was James, but he felt that people would respond to something that played off of his Russian heritage, and felt that the name “Boris” was much more threatening than the name his parents gave him. Also, it didn’t hurt to use a fake name when your business isn’t exactly legal. Even though Boris was a killer for hire, he had a soft spot for anyone with a reasonable desire for revenge, and has been known to do pro bono work for anyone who can give him a good story, especially since he mainly either kills people who stole drugs, cheating spouses, and the occasional business partner.

The first time Boris had decided to kill somebody for free was when a dentist had come to him, explaining that he discovered one of his patients had stolen the dentist’s collection of pulled teeth (the dentist would not explain why he collected these teeth), so he decided to confront the guy, but lost his spine on the drive over and decided to just follow the guy around until he worked up the nerve to either ask for his teeth back, or sucker punch the guy. However, while he shadowed his client while silently giving himself a pep-talk, saying “you know teeth, you can knock his out no problem” or “you’re a lion, you’re a big, sexy lion”, he saw the client had entered a nursing home, which seemed innocent, until he watched from a doorway as the client entered the rooms of a catatonic old woman and, well, proved to be a degenerate and a menace to society. Boris had found some of the story strange, and a little confusing, but he said to the dentist that a man like that should not be able to continue on living, and that the police would be too much trouble, and was surprised when the dentist said really just wanted the teeth back, but if he wanted to kill they guy he could kill him. Even though the dentist didn’t have the best intentions, Boris knew that the job was still a noble one, and decided to do it for free, wanting to kill a man who had actually turned out to be worth killing.

Yet, Boris’ strangest client was a young girl, about the age of ten, who had approached him and said, “You kill people, right?”

“Yeah,” said the hit man, “but I don’t do it for free.”

“Okay. How much would it cost to kill God?”

Looking around for some sort of parent that may be with the child, somebody who would pop in and explain that it was a joke, “What- what are you talking about?”

“A cross fell of the church and killed my mom. The preacher said it was an ‘act of God’. People said ‘God has a plan for everything’. So, God took my mother away from me. He’s an asshole. I want you to shoot him in the face.” A puzzled expression was the only response she got. “Its not the only bad thing he did either. He’s killed a lot of people. He’s caused a lot of storms. He’s allowed drugs and murderers to exist. He lets children be born in bad situations, and then sends them to hell for having to survive. There is no reason that we should be okay with this. People tell me to pray to him, to get on my knees and beg him to stop doing bad. Why am I supposed to kiss his ass, just so he wont take my dad too? Why should I-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Sheesh. Problem is girl, I’m agnostic.”

“What is that.”

“I don’t know if God exists, I’m not sure.”

“What does not knowing if he exists have to do with it? Can’t you still shoot him, even if you’re not sure it was him that you shot?”

“Okay, even if I could find him, or whatever, what would I do then? How would I kill God?”

“With a gun.. Do you know how to kill people? Am I in the wrong place? I thought you were supposed to be a professional? Why is a mean old man such an obstacle for you? Just fucking shoot him!”

“You swear a lot for a little girl.”

“And you kill people. Am I going to have to take my money elsewhere?”

Rubbing his temple, “I don’t think there’s anywhere you will be able to take that money, you’re asking for an impossible task. Look, if there is a God, no mortal could kill him, even with a gun. Think about it. If somebody could actually kill the guy, wouldn’t they have done it already? If the guy can knock over gigantic crosses, create storms and wars, then what the hell would a bullet be against him? You’re not thinking this through.”

“If you’re not going to help me, then can you at least tell me where I can buy a gun? If I can’t pay anybody to do it for me, I guess I’ll have to kill him myself.”

“I see nothing wrong with that.” So, Boris sold the child a snub nosed, kid-sized revolver and several boxes of ammo. The girl thanked him, then wandered out, back into the city, trying to figure out where she was even supposed to find the guy. If she could just see him for a couple seconds, all she would have to do is point and shoot, probably nailing him right between the eyes, and nobody would have to suffer ever again. ———————————————————————————————————

X-Ray stood on his trusted corner, trying to make his living by asking everyone who walked by if they would like a rock or two of pure pleasure. Most people just kept walking, some of the fiends would stop and actually buy some, but he knew that if he wanted to move his way up in this business, he would have to find a way to get new customers. Having a steady income wasn’t good enough, especially if that income only provided him with enough money to keep the power and water on in his house, and maybe allow him to buy some cheap as hell food. On the rare occasions that he would talk to straight edge people, who he mainly just wanted to get addicted and become another one of his customers, they would always assume that he had a lot of money, just because he dealt drugs. Sometimes he would point to his clothes, and say, “Do I dress like somebody who has money to throw around”, and they would usually say something about people who came from the ghetto not knowing how to dress themselves. In his mind, everyone with money was like that, but he only talked to one or two people in that category.

As he stood there, announcing his wares, he noticed, across the street, a young girl who was all alone and looked like her parents had a good amount of money. That’s when he realized that children would be the easiest way to expand his customer base, especially ones who could steal money from their parents, who would be too soft to pose a threat. “Hey, you there, little girl” shouted X-Ray, “you lost or something?”

Normally she wouldn’t talk to strangers, but she had a gun in her bright pink backpack and wasn’t worried. So, since she was lost, she decided to walk over to the teen who was waving her over. “Do you know how to get to.. Um.. Do you know where the frozen yogurt store is, near..” Being a child, she didn’t have a very good idea of the city’s layout.

“Yeah yeah, I know where you’re talking about,” he lied, “but, uh, why are you over in this part of town? Don’t you know that it can be pretty dangerous?”

“I’m not worried about danger.” Said the girl whose palms were covered in lines from colored markers that smelled like fruit. “Nobody around here is dangerous anyways.”

“Why do you say that?” Just the other night, he had seen a stray dog pull a abandoned baby out of a dumpster and eat it, but he guessed that the incident involved a dangerous animal, instead of a dangerous person.

“I went to some guy who kills people, but he said he couldn’t kill the guy I wanted him to.” Then again, about a week ago he saw a corpse in the alley way, but he also didn’t know if somebody had killed the woman, or if it was just drug related, or even was the result of another stray dog attack. “So now I have to go and kill him on my own.” The police who sometimes came through could be considered dangerous, mainly because they were bound to shoot you, beat you up, throw you into a hostile environment, or send you to prison, which was filled with dangerous people, but he couldn’t tell if police counted, since they were supposed to be everywhere, and weren’t specific to this area. Although, were they supposed to be specific to the area, “I’m going to kill him dead”, or did they just have to be in the area, even if they were everywhere.

People called him X-Ray due to the way he tended to over analyze things. Some of his friends said it was like he smoked pot once and never came down.

“So you’re a killer then?” Asked X-Ray, only tuning in at the last sentence. “Who are you killing then? You don’t look like you could kill a rat.”

“I’m going to kill god”, said the girl, completely serious. He hadn’t seen somebody be this severe since he saw a local bookie’s goons threaten his father back when he was as big as this girl, and he guessed that those thugs could be considered dangerous people too, but he also didn’t know if they were still around. And what if they were just muscle in appearance only, and never actually laid a finger on any deadbeats?

“That’s a good one. How you gonna do that?” Gunshots sounded in the distance, but there was no way for him to know if they were from violence and danger, or from target practice.

“I-” looking at her feet, “I don’t know. I have to find him, but I don’t know how to find him.”

“Shit, that’s the easy part.” X-Ray was no better than a corner kid, a peddler of wares, but he had seen enough crime movies to have a rough idea of what it was like to be higher up in the crime scene. “If you want to find the guy at the top, you just gotta cause enough trouble at the bottom for him to come out of hiding. God or no God.”

“So, wait. What?”

“Like, okay. So, you find people at the bottom, and then blam blam. You kill them. They’re dead. And then somebody above those guys are upset, so they come out from wherever they are, and you plug them too. You turn them into trash. Then, like, this keeps going, but eventually some hitters come after you, and you have to learn if you’re a mark or not. You either gotta live in the shadows, or die like a baby in the jaws of a dog. This time is also when somebody close to you is gonna die, if they can’t get you they’ll get the ones you love. You know, to draw you out too. Eventually you get your revenge, after wondering if its all, like, worth it and shit, and blat blat, you get the guys who got yours. Then, things get bad, and you finally get face to face with the boss man, the king pin, and you talk to each other for a while, he puts up like some crazy motha fuckin fight. Like, this fight is the best fight, and it goes on for some time as you guys spray bullets at each other, real crazy shit. Then, like, he gets a bullet in you, and its in some place where you’re not gonna live afterwards. But, you know, you also kill him, and then you die shortly afterwards, and like wonder if the death and everything was even worth it.

“Also you might fall in love with a guy, but I do not think you should do that. They either gonna die, or you gonna die then they’ll have to, like, mourn you and shit. Sadness cuts both ways when you deal with revenge.”

The girl stood there for a bit, thinking over what the guy told her, trying to figure out who the hell she is supposed to shoot first to get all of this started. And how long was this supposed to take, she wondered. Was she going to end up as a grown woman, spending her life going after God, and then finally having the big shoot out when she is as old as her mother, maybe looking exactly like her mother, a realization which led the girl to get lost in a day dream, where she pretends to be her own mom, and then God finally runs into her and says something like, “I’m going to have to kill you all over again”, and she responds with something clever (for a child), like, “Go to hell”. Watching the girl trying to process the information, X-Ray wondered if she was reconsidering the whole thing. So, he decided to go back to his original plan. “You know,” he said, smiling a hustler’s smile, “If you don’t want to go through all of that, I know where you can find God real easy.”

Snapping from her fantasy, “What? Where?”

Reaching into his pocket, then producing a couple of vaguely-semen-colored rocks in his hand, “All you gotta do is smoke this shit, then you’ll be face to face with the big man himself.”

“Bullshit.” She said, half believing him but wanting to go through with her fantasy.

“You calling me a liar? Fuck outta here if you don’t believe me then, your ass could get eaten by some dogs or some shit.” Watching the stray root through the trash was more traumatizing than he would ever want to admit. “Why you askin’ for my advice anyways if you gonna question me?”

“Sorry, sorry.” She reached for the rocks in his hand but he closed it and snatched it away, which annoyed her.

“I’m not going to give this away for free though, so if you wanna… You know what? You have a noble cause and shit, so I’m gonna make this half-priced. $60 a rock. And when you need more to go after God and wait for your big shoot out, you’ll know where to find me.” Adding that last bit just to make sure that when she inevitably became addicted, she would come back for him. Although, while she rooted around in her backpack for money, he wondered if she would be able to find her way back to him, or if she would just end up finding any of the other young dealers around the downtown area. The girl didn’t even know where she was now, so how would she find her way back to him? Before he could find an answer to this question, she had shot him in the chest, causing him to become wide eyed and stare down at the girl, who was staring up at him, pointing the smallest gun he ever saw, which had a smoking barrel.

After he dropped to the ground, she searched his pockets for the rocks that would let her see God, knowing that it would be easier to steal than buy. Plus, if the guy was selling access to God, then wouldn’t he be on the big man’s payroll? Wouldn’t he be one of the little people that had to drop just to get everything going? And, she figured, if he wasn’t, then it was good practice anyways. ———————————————————————————————————

A few months back, Ramona was so desperate for money that she offered to tell people’s fortunes just for a quick buck, and she was surprised that it had actually worked, and gave her a stable enough income to keep withdrawals at bay. It turned out that a lot of the fiends and dealers in the area were very superstitious, so they would come to her to know how they were going to die next (a common problem), and how to avoid it. The clients that she had were very happy, becoming more satisfied with her fortunes every day that they were still alive, and the ones who believed her bullshit and dropped dead were in no position to tell everyone that she was a fraud. Half of the time that she told people their futures she was incredibly high, and was surprised that nobody was realizing that all of the mystical shit that came out of her mouth was just a bunch of high talk, but she didn’t care enough to point it out to anyone, she want ed to stay in business.

Her newest client was a girl who had wandered into the abandoned motel that Ramona worked in, and when she was found, the girl claimed, “I got one of the people on the bottom, now I have to hide and wait for somebody else.”

This was just a load of nonsense to Ramona, but she was able to smell danger on the young girl, which was also the smell of money. “I see that you are in a rough situation, you know that this is my specialty? The moon and the stars and the great man inside has lead you to me. A prophecy foretold.”

“The hell are you talking about? Are you talking about God?”

“No, not God, there are things in the Earth beyond what lies in Heaven and Hell.” She figured that if she acted like she knew more than what religions claimed, she would seem more trustworthy. “There are things you cannot see without the third eye of the cosmos, the fortunes past told. A galaxy forgotten and remembered again. Eons of suffering, rebirth, and harmony. Eyes without faces and faces without love. These area all mystic truths.” It was only several minutes ago before she got loaded. “If you are in danger, I can whisper to the secrets of the universe to find some answers, but it will cost you.”

“I spent all my money on a weapon. Would you be okay with trading?”

“What do you wish to trade?”

When the girl threw down the packet of crack, her heart almost shot out of her chest. Even though it wasn’t her favorite substance, there was a good amount of it, and she could probably trade it for something better. “Okay, yeah, you ready for the future to be told?” Too lit to contain her excitement, “Hold out your hand.” The girl listened, and Ramona tapped her fingers on the girl’s palm for ten seconds, then said, “When you see a red light, you must duck, and then you will be free from death. That clear?”

The girl nodded. ———————————————————————————————————

A priest stood at his podium, trying to remember where he had been going with his sermon, hoping that he could feel his way back to the point he was trying to make. It would be unfair to assume that his current troubles with his sermon reflected on him as a priest, he was actually one of the best in the city, a good man down to the core, but his memory had been hazy, headaches had become constant, and he didn’t know it, but he had a brain tumor. Every day for him was painful and confusing, but he tried to put on a brave face and let the lord guide him through the darkness. “And lo, he said, to all that would hear it, all that were listening to him. The masses who had gathered, they looked up at him, at what he had to say, willing to listen to his words, that he would say, and absorb their meaning. Just like all of you,” gesturing to the congregation, “Just like how all of you are listening to me now, they also listened to what he had to say.” The pain in his skull wasn’t as bad as the pain in his soul, also caused by the tumor, which made every day miserable, made him long for an end to all of his suffering. It was as if existing alone was too much for him, and it was an uphill battle just to keep going through the days. The only thing that kept him from an early checkout was the hope for an act of god, was the strength of his unwavering faith.

“And listen they did. Oh boy, did they ever listen when he talked. He said words, they listened to the words, all through the magic of vibrations. They all, all gathered and it was a give and take. He talked, they listened to him talking, and lo, and lo, it was a true community that had formed when he had spoken to them.” The page he initially read from in the bible was lost to him, because it was early on in the book, which accidentally closed due to the lightweight left side that required him to hold down if he wanted to book to stay open. At this point, he was just running out the clock, trying to think of something other than how terrible life had been. “Listening, talking, communication, these are gifts given to God. God is great for he has allowed us to have these things, he has given them to us. It is great. So great.”

Right when the priest felt like throwing up, church door had opened and a little girl had come running towards the podium, running past the pews, looking haggard. At first the priest wondered if she was lost or scared, then he thought she may have belonged to one of the adults in the congregation, but he was surprised when she had removed a gun when she as only five feet away from him. They both stared each other in the eyes, they were both incredibly happy to have this moment. The priest believed this to be an act of God, a way to save him from his agony without him having to sin by suicide, while the girl believed that a priest was pretty high up, and would really speed up the process of getting to the man in charge. Most of the congregation wasn’t paying attention, their focus had shifted away from the priest when he forgot what he was talking about, and the few people who did notice were either frozen in shock or believed that the lord would save the priest.

Only when the girl sunk three rounds into the priest did people pay attention, and they screamed in horror as the priest stepped back and fell into a pool of holy water, which began to turn red with his blood. They watched as the girl ran up to the podium, announced, “Tell God I’m coming for him. That fuckers gonna pay.” Some people screamed that she was the Antichrist, and later people would claim that she spun her head around, or that the crosses on the wall turned upside down. Before the girl leaved, she scanned the room for any nuns or other priests, but if there were any, they were hiding too well for her to see.

On her way out, she looked an elderly woman in the eyes, who then had a heart attack and died, believing that she locked eyes with the Antichrist, and her husband then had a heart attack, because he believed that the Antichrist gave his wife a heart attack. The girl, right before she walked out the door (everyone was too afraid to try and stop her) she shot a portrait of Jesus Christ, causing a hole to form in his right eye.

#Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Revenge #God

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