#thought about six months ago last night and let out an audible wail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thealwriteytrashdump · 3 years

Text

Coincidence (a Jeff the killer short story)

The feeling of waking up in the middle of the night is a strange one. The heaviness in your limbs and in your soul. It seems like time has stopped and the world has gone still. Until you hear the faintest wail of a siren in the distance and suddenly the nightly sounds of your city arise. The sudden hum of the AC kicks in and every so often, a helicopter flies to the nearby hospital. Someone speeds by on a motorcycle, revving to their heart’s content as they drive. You looked at the clock, 3 am; not yet time for you to begin your morning but ultimately too late to go back to sleep. The old apartment building creaks with age, and you hear the faint jingle of your recently acquired kitten. She has decided to keep you company as you both lay in a comfortable pile in your sheets. Truth be told, you’ve adopted out of sheer loneliness, the empty silence of your small apartment has driven you slowly mad over the months.

Sure, you had friends and loved ones, but you’ve since isolated yourself in an attempt to be independent. Before you had moved out, you lived with your sister, and while the company was nice, she had bullied you into doing household chores on top of paying a fairly decent size of the rent. Your parents assumed she paid for everything herself and you were living scot-free but that wasn’t the case. Both you and your sister worked very hard to keep your respective lives afloat, she worked hard for her children and was rarely home, hoping you’d be there for her kids when they needed it.. You, however, worked full time as well as went to the local community college to build up credits. After a couple of years of constantly fighting and losing, you had enough and moved away to a different part of town, burning the closest bridge you had for support. Now living in a smaller rundown apartment, working several jobs, and trying to make it through the semester, you lived paycheck to paycheck; making ends meet but not by much. At first, you’ve felt free, you’ve been living like how you wanted to and no one could stop you. For several months, it was your dream come true, you did whatever you want when you wanted. However, slowly but surely, you felt the loneliness creep in; working hard no longer filled you with a sense of purpose, and college work drained you of your motivation. Living the bare minimum began to take its toll on your mental health and your sheer iron will, or perhaps stubbornness, began to tire out.

You hear the soft jingle again and feel the comforting hum of your kitten’s purr. The madness you experienced in the past months drove you to make a rash decision on your part to adopt a kitten from your brother and his spouse. As rash as it was, it was also a decision you’ve yet to regret. As this tiny grey tabby proved, just a small amount of company did wonders for your sanity. Your kitten took some time to adjust to you but has come to love you as her caretaker and companion, and you’ve come to love her as your baby and loved one. Her eyes were a bit bulgy and her head just a tad too small but she was a beautiful kitten with a feisty spirit. Her name was a bit strange, and your family didn’t hesitate to let you know, but she was yours and you had thought her name was perfect. Now that little kitten slept soundly near your inner thigh, purring loudly and kneading your left calf.

You laid very still, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the world around you. The silence simultaneously existed with the noise. The quiet hum of the AC, the excitement of the world beyond but also the barely audible sound of your breathing and your heartbeat. The soft noises of your kitten and the settling of the walls. Noisy and yet not so.

Eventually, the sharp call of your alarm tells you four am has rolled around, and it is time for you to begin the day. You get up slowly so as to not disturb your cat, stretching, and yawning. You walked through the bathroom to the kitchen to turn on the lights and to boil some water for coffee. As the water began to heat and the kettle slowly whistled to life, you decided to take a quick shower. Your first job starts in two hours, with plenty of time to get ready and have a quick bite of breakfast, however, you preferred to be early rather than late. As the sun starts to peek out, you brew yourself a cup of caffeine and gather your backpack. It’s time to set out for the day, you leave extra food out for your little babe, and make your way to the bus.

The day usually passed by uneventfully, the coffee shop you worked at opened at six in the morning and stayed busy until 11 am. You stayed until noon, then caught the metro to your classes. It was just a couple of hours before heading back home to your little kitten to check up and prepare for your second job. As you walked onto the large campus, fellow students came and went as you headed up towards your classes. You heard bits of chatter and gossip,

“Did you hear-”

“-vered with blood-”

“That’s party was si-”

“There were so-”

“-arely slept las-”

“So what-”

Unable to hear full conversations or even full sentences, you passed by absentmindedly. There was something going on about a string of break-ins and robberies, but you paid no mind to it. Of course, you always needed to be careful, even in the safer neighborhoods. Gunshots were always heard every now and then, and there were lots of police around but nothing really happened in your immediate vicinity so you didn’t feel the need to keep your guard up. Still, you were very careful to keep to yourself and to check for any suspicious behavior regarding your person. You head to your first class as the crowds thicken, walking up the stairs to the central courtyard. As you approached the large area, you see in the distance a rather tall building with very large windows. These classrooms were for the English and History classes with some other misc. classes and a fairly large library. Unfortunately, the building was across campus from the Metro station, and mostly out of the way. The large courtyard is filled with hundreds if not thousands of students, you opted to take a roundabout through the large parking garage, most likely full of cars and other modes of transportation. As you round the corner, you bump into someone moving fast and land heavily on the concrete. You yelped in surprise and almost immediately excused yourself. Instead of a response, you hear the sounds of skates or rather a skateboard and look up just in time to see the man, with a dingy white jacket, already on his way without a second thought. Picking yourself up, you huff in annoyance and begin rushing away, muttering obscenities under your breath.

Jogging away, you dusted yourself off and started gathering your homework to turn in as you entered the building, you spotted off in the distance, your professor speaking to some of your classmates. She was delightfully wonderful to students, especially the younger ones who just started college for the very first time. The older woman was tall and very beautiful, she had a powerful presence that intimidated most. She was not afraid to speak her mind, and she was very much sassy to both students and professors alike. Her class was still boring and most of the troubled students disliked her for a number of reasons. While she was kind to the students, she didn’t believe that excused them for slacking off or failing her class. She was open and willing to help those who were failing but there were no favorites in her class. Slipping into the classroom, you sit in an empty spot around the middle area where there were a couple of seats open. Everyone liked to sit up front or near the back, and usually, you’re able to snag a glorious three seats of space in the middle area. Today wasn’t that spacious, but you aren’t complaining as you are seated next to the large nearly spotless window that looked out onto the small park nearby. The very last of the class files in and you begin your first lesson of the day, taking out your notes and doodling little figures.

As the class began, your professor walked in and greeted the class. The first order of business was to remind the class that assignments were due tomorrow and if the paperwork wasn’t in her inbox by the end of the day, she was giving out failing grades and speaking to the offenders personally. You continued doodling little figures and half-listening for important information. Fortunately, you had finished your assignments for your classes a few days ago. You were currently working on assignments due in a week’s time. It was better to be ahead to buffer workload and make it easier for yourself in the long run. Luckily, most of your professors allow you to be proactive in your learning so long as you still took notes and listened to the lectures. It was a great opportunity for you to keep yourself and some of your professors sane for the most part.

Some other students groaned quietly, but you continued to sketch out a face in the corner of your notebook. Your professor finished her speech and turned to start the lesson for the day. An hour dragged by, and a yawn escaped your lips involuntarily. You stare out the window, bored, the trees sway silently as clouds pass overhead. You tap your pencil against your notebook, you have already written down notes and important timestamps and pages for your books. You were confident you would pass the open notes exam next week, and you’ve made it so you had a light schedule that day as well. The day was almost perfect, you thought about getting takeout and treating yourself to some video games. Your jobs had you take a day off so you could focus on your schoolwork, and you were grateful for it. You smiled to yourself and yawned again; it would be a nice time to catch up on sleep as well. Another hour passed by uneventfully, and as class ended, you half jogged to the professor’s desk to turn in some work and to ask for the homework for the week after next week. She squinted at you and sharply said, she only had a rough idea of what the week entailed but she was more than happy to email you some copies when she wrote out the assignments. You nodded and thanked her, wishing her a good day and heading out to the hallway.

The two other classes you have for that day go by slowly as you fight to keep your eyes open. After the last hour of history was over, the plan was to head home for your “second job,” as you call it to your parents. In truth, it was a glorified online data entry job you did for a friend who started a business a while back. It was steady tedious work, but as a friend, you were called into action. It was your first job and the only reason why you were able to move out and start college. The pay was good and your buddy gave you great “benefits” as they were. He just needed some paperwork and bookkeeping done for his clients. While it looked legitimate for tax purposes, he mostly dealt with some particulars who preferred to keep their business and their lives private. It was a decent job, and most of the time, you never dealt with the clients themselves thankfully. It was just simple work done in the safety and privacy of your apartment. As a lower-tier worker bee, you were relatively safe, however, you never really knew if it was ever a guarantee. You never minded, you hadn’t died yet, right?

As the day ended, you spent the five-hour shift working and listening to the news. A tiny cat jingled around at the speed of light; she’d nipped at your toes before speeding off to tackle a chew toy. Working until you hit a wall in terms of motivation, you get up to make some tea, watching some of the news that you played for background noise.

“-Tonight at 11; In other news, a horrific breaking and entering at McCorrick and Washing Dr tonight as security cameras catch the nightmare unfolding. Police say two adults: one male, and one female, were found with three stab wounds in the chest and fatal cuts on their faces and throats. They were pronounced dead on arrival. One survivor, a young girl, escaped with heavy injuries and extreme loss of blood. EMTs rushed her to the hospital where she remains in critical condition. The footage shows the brave girl jumping from her second-story balcony and making her way to the local gas station where the cameras were located. The suspect seems to be a man in his late 20s, wearing what seems to be a white jacket and a face mask; although later eyewitnesses account that he, himself, was brutally mutilated.

This seems to be another case in a string of homicides by who authorities call the Glasgow killer, named so because of what he does to his victims and what he has apparently done to himself. Although, there’s nothing connecting the murders in terms of age, gender, or race, and there is no apparent pattern to each home hit, the suspect does cut a Cheshire smile cut into each unfortunate victim. If spotted-”

The whistling of the kettle catches your attention and you finish making hot tea with milk and honey. You had a light supper of leftovers and now you were drinking some tea to wake up a bit, You still had a few hours left before you could clock out and get some sleep. Sipping and holding your mug close to your body, you sit back down and stare at your computer screen. You knew what the underbelly of your city was capable of, the things people were uncomfortable talking about. Your city wasn’t the safest nor was it the place to go start a long and prosperous life, but it was a city of opportunity for those willing to cross that line. It was a hellscape sanctuary in the desert where the old and the rich come to vacation for the winter, only to leave when the summer heat arrives to cook the denizens unfortunate to live here. Only people with nowhere else to go were desperate enough to live in this scorching concrete jungle. Your city, the city of hope and of ruined pasts, was also the city of new beginnings for the rotten. Rated one of the highest for crime and deaths by murder. The land of opportunity was often paved in blood and sacrifice. You were no different, you came here for the promise of a better life just like the rest of the people. You turn back to the tv where the news showed a picture of the survivor and what looked to be a professionally drawn picture of a zombie with an unnaturally large smile. His sunken eyes seemed to be too large for his thin face and his nose seemed to have rotted away. Eyewitnesses described him as a moderately tall man with a sturdy build, wearing a tattered dirty white hoodie. His drawn picture bored into your soul and you were grateful when they decided to go into more detail about the victim instead, as you stretched again and continued working.

A young woman in her late teens, not much younger than yourself but definitely still a minor by law. You watch as the newscaster shows a picture of her from her social media, happy and smiling in a sea of blurry faces. She was very pretty and had a nice smile. You take a sip of tea, ready to get back to work when the stoic newsman claims police say they have security footage from a store nearby the incident. Pausing once more when you hear the name of said store, you focus on the tv as it cuts to the grainy video. It showed the gas station lot but in the background, there seemed to be something else going on. You see the distant apartments’ second-story homes. A small figure jumped from one of the balconies onto a brick wall and frantically crawled over: the young survivor barely covered and clutching her shoulder, struggling to make it over the brick wall. She landed heavily but crawled to her feet and limps to the gas station. A larger figure, suspected to be the killer, emerges from the balcony and follows her albeit with more grace akin to a cat. He leaped onto the balcony railing and used the brick wall as a stepping stone. He landed running and looked to be ready to grab the poor girl, but she was fortunate enough to make it inside the gas station and out of his reach. He skidded to a stop, looking through the glass before making his way away from the building and into the darkness.

Something is knocked into the camera and it abruptly ends cutting back to the newsman explaining the poor girl’s fate. She was carted away to the nearby hospital but as she had lost a lot of blood, she was still unconscious. She had stab wounds on her right shoulder, right thigh, and both in her hands. She was beaten to near death with bruises on her throat and face. Her family wasn’t so fortunate, having similar stab wounds, but a fatal cut on their throats and mutilated faces. Whoever has done this likes to cut joker smiles into his victims, leaving them to bleed out to steal anything of value from the residents. The news cuts to another story but not before showing the professional drawing of the killer again and cautioning viewers to be safe.

You let out a shallow breath you didn’t know you were holding, your hands trembled slightly. Closing your eyes, you knew that this was the very same gas station you visited the night prior. You had recognized the hospital to be the very same hospital you lived near. According to the timestamps, this seemed to take place right before you woke up. You had heard the very ambulance that took her. Small world. You steadied your breath and continued working, feeling much more alone and vulnerable than ever. The jingle of tiny bells rings out and your little kitten runs into the bedroom, chasing invisible prey into the night.

#Short story #Chapter1 #Jeff the killer #Creepypasta #lol #I wish to be a lame cringey teen again #I'm still lame and cringey #but I want to be young again #Plz read #Reader x Jeff the killer #Kind of #Murder Soulmates #Could be a longer story :3

18 notes · View notes

neon-caskets · 4 years

Text

Onwards and upwards

A Billy/Four x reader from the film 6 Underground.

After your boyfriend’s death, you try to move on, try to cope. Such a big change in your life left you in a bad place, but there’s another change one night when you receive a very unexpected visit.

TW// Blood/injuries, cursing, mentions of death, angst, depression/grieving process

(Y/n = Your Name)

2,939 words

The funeral was, in a word, bleak. Six people showed up, including you. Two of them left before the end, not because they couldn’t face it, but because a nearby pub was showing the football on television and the pair didn’t want to miss it. His mother sobbed hysterically. The only one comforting her was you, but she was broken in a different way; she lost a son, you lost your lover. Two men dressed in black, hidden behind sunglasses, ducked beneath umbrellas, watched from a distance. You thought it odd that they’d wear sunglasses on a cloudy day, but your mind was too busy elsewhere to care all that much. It rained too. Nonstop. Yes, bleak was the word.

You were well into the grieving process too. The denial came first. You were at work when you got the call. It was from his crew, the other skywalkers, parkour lovers, thieves, people you’d grown close to over the years. They had been on a job in Kyiv, looking for a diamond necklace, the Kalahari, worth fifty million dollars. And he didn’t make it. Police showed up and shot at the team, taking down a few. Your boyfriend fell seven stories onto solid concrete and his body was never found. At first, you didn’t believe it. You got the call at work, teaching languages at a local high school. And of all the twenty languages you had dedicated your life to learning, not one had the words to express what you felt. You didn’t believe them. He was talented, skilled, thieving his whole life. He was your skywalker. But his friends were serious. Billy was dead.

That took you to anger as they told you what happened. The members of the team who weren’t shot on sight ran, leaping across rooftops, racing over scaffolding, jumping through windows. Billy lost his footing. He had the Kalahari between his teeth and the ledge of a rooftop under his fingertips. Instead of helping him, a girl in the group grabbed the necklace, and Billy fell seven stories to his death as the others escaped. She left him. She took the necklace instead of his hand. With a fifty million dollar necklace, it’s easy to disappear and protect yourself, which was lucky for this girl, because if you knew where she was and had the means of doing so, you’d hurt her in ways she never knew possible. Because she left him to die.

But you didn’t know where she was, didn’t have the means of getting your revenge and releasing your anger. So you bargained. Your mind was polluted with ‘what if’ and ‘if only’. ‘If’ became the one word you couldn’t get out of your head. What if he hadn’t lost his footing on the roof? What if the cops shot the girl who left him, instead of shooting someone else? What if he never found the necklace? What if he never went to Kyiv in the first place? But none of that mattered now. Did anything matter now?

The numbness was depression. It crept in somewhere around the first ‘what if’. It didn’t leave for a very long time. The days spent lying motionless on the sofa melted into months. You hadn’t been at work since his death. You just lay here from sunrise to sunset. Immobile. When the TV in what was once your poky shared flat wasn’t off, it was on the news. You didn’t care about the car chase and gunfight in Florence when it was reported. Didn’t move to watch Turgistan’s evil dictator being overthrown a couple of months ago. Everything felt heavy to you.

It was almost one year since his death, but step five of grief, acceptance, wasn’t coming to you. His birthday was tomorrow. You had a cake, a tiny thing, but Billy was never one for massive shows. It was barely the size of your hand, fit one candle comfortably, and was sitting in your kitchen, serving as a reminder than the man you loved was gone and was never coming back. You’d been trying to move on, really, you had. But everything was sore, like part of you was gone. His pictures were still on the wall. The Polaroid of the two of you that you treasured was still in your purse. His clothes still in their drawers. You were very careful with how often you wore his jumpers and hoodies because you feared that if you washed them too much and too often, the scent of cologne, London’s sky, and Billy would disappear forever. The only thing you changed was the lock on the door to the flat. Something about the only other key to your home that existed being lost in the world unsettled you. Maybe it was the stress and lack of sleep controlling your train of thought.

Lack of sleep... You needed rest. You retired to your bedroom, bare feet cold on the hard wooden floors. The room was not the tidiest. The bed was unmade, but that wasn’t a concern. You trudged past your dresser, the dust gathering on the photo of the pair of you atop a skyscraper when Billy persuaded you to let him try to teach you parkour. Only a few grazes and bruises were sustained that night. He kissed each one tenderly in apology when you got home. He was wholly sorry, forest green eyes glazed with concern when you limped home after the trip. Eyes as pure green as spring evolving into a warm summer. Eyes you’d never get to see flutter open again in the lazy morning when he’d just lay with you, sunlight peeking through your curtains.

You knew you wouldn’t sleep tonight, but your bed was still welcoming when you fell back onto it and closed your eyes. You could still see the last smile he gave you, like a memory seared into your eyelids. You couldn’t tell if that comforted you or killed you inside.

“I can’t believe you persuaded me to let you come to London on this job,” One, the genius billionaire leader of the ghosts, complained to Four. Their mission went badly when Four got distracted by thinking he saw you, and when bad guys started shooting and instead of shooting back, Four ran to protect the girl who he mistook for you. A bullet nicked his cheek, but frankly, he’d have taken all the bullets in the world directly to the chest if it meant protecting you. “We have rules for a reason, Four, and this fuck up proves it. If you’ve been to the city before, you don’t get to go. Two didn’t get to go to Paris on a job-”

“Which is why I see this as a little unfair,” Five added, trying to stop the bleeding of a slash wound to Two’s bicep sustained during the fight in London.

The sound of police sirens wailing stopped the group in their tracks. One and Seven were propping an injured Three between them. Five was trying to help Two, who was mumbling disoriented French to herself after being hit in the head and losing blood through her arm. Four was leading them through alleys and backstreets that he knew like the back of his hand.

“We need to get off the streets. After that little incident back there, we’ve got every cop in London looking for us,” Seven stated, exhausted after the mission gone wrong. “Four, anywhere nearby? We need to get Two and Three patched up quick.”

He recognized where he was. This was the street he used to live in. The street that housed the love of his life and so many thousands of memories with her. The street he left and hadn’t returned to in nearly a year. He didn’t even know if you still lived here.

Four turned to the group and told One, “I’ve got a place, but you won’t like who owns it.”

Police sirens and urgent voices in the distance prompted One to answer faster. “I’m past caring, just get us there.”

He took them to the block of flats that he used to call home, to the flat that at one point was his paradise. He never let go of the key; it was the last tangible thing tying him to you.

The image of Billy’s smile disappeared as you opened your eyes. You heard something scrabbling at your door, muffled curses, frustrated voices. Slowly, your only armor being the last baby blue jumper that Billy wore, legs bare and chilled as you padded barefoot to the door, fear and uncertainty crept in. Billy was always the one to reassure you. He had a confidence about him, a comforting warmth that he exuded. You were just cold now.

There was silence for a moment outside your door. You were barely a few inches from it, head hung back as you prayed the people would leave. It was the middle of the night, for goodness sake.

They knocked. Three brief raps.

The fact that they knocked struck you as odd. You certainly weren’t expecting anyone. Your hand clasped around the door handle, and you opened the door a crack, then all the way.

It was like the day you found out he died. No words in any of the twenty languages you knew could explain what you felt. Only this time, it wasn’t because he was dead, it was because he was standing in front of you.

“Hi, love.”

You staggered back. You couldn’t help it. How? How was this possible? But then it started falling shakily into place. His body wasn’t found. The scrabbling noise? You changed the lock, he still had his old key. He wasn’t able to open the door.

“Y/n, I know,” Billy told you, hushed yet filled with concern and sympathy, and immeasurable guilt. “I know... but can we come in?”

You were silent and stepped aside, eyes not leaving the green of Billy’s, despite the strange sight of the people Billy was with just strolling inside your flat and setting about healing themselves, finding food and water, resting. At least they were polite enough to close the door behind them.

“You’re dead,” Your voice was a painfully quiet stammer. “They told me you died. You fell... you fell seven stories onto concrete... I went to your funeral!”

“I know, Y/n, please listen-”

“How could you do this to me?”

Your words were barely audible, but Billy heard them. He felt absolutely guilt-ridden, heart breaking for what he did. But you didn’t know that in exchange for faking his death and joining a vigilante group, he made sure you were safe and looked after. Those months that you were off work, Billy asked One to make sure your boss kept paying you, since he always remembered how you would complain about your boss, Billy listening intently. When you fell hard into your depression, Billy made sure one made sure the bills were paid. He thought it would mean your safety was guaranteed; something he’d never been able to do before. He watched the funeral too. You did think the two men with sunglasses on in the rain was strange, but looking back, how you didn’t recognize Billy was what was truly strange. The other man who was with him? You turned your head and found One patting Three vigorously on the face back into consciousness. One and Billy were there.

“William. Why?”

William. That’s how he knew he was in trouble. It was always ‘Billy,’ ‘baby,’ or an affectionate ‘sweetheart’. It was never William.

“That,” He pointed to One, “Is a billionaire arsehole named One. He faked his death and started a group of vigilantes trying to make the world a better place. That woman over there, the blonde arguing with your telly in French? That’s Two, but her name is Camille. The dude on your sofa is Javier, or Three. Five is the doctor with the first aid kit, helping Two.”

“Call me Amelia,” Five added as she bandaged Two.

“Seven, Blaine, is the only one with common sense, clearly,” Billy stated as Seven checked all the blinds and windows were closed so that they wouldn’t be spotted by the helicopter that watched London after the ghosts’ incident. “I’m Four.”

You, as much as you were absolutely baffled by the scenario you found yourself in, figured that this little explanation was better than nothing. “Where’s Six?”

“He died on our Florence job,” One chimed in, finding a beer in your fridge and cracking it open.

You didn’t put two and two together, so Billy explained, “Did you watch the news about Florence? Massive car chase? Gunfight?”

It hit you like a ton of bricks. There was news helicopter footage of a man running down the Duomo. You never watched but knew it happened. “That was you?”

“Yeah. We also did Turgistan. Evil dictator was overthrown ‘cause of us.” Billy had a hint of pride in his voice.

You waved your hands slowly, flippantly, to stop him. “Hold on... you let me believe that you died horribly a thousand miles away, so you could join a group of vigilantes?”

“Well when you put it that way it sounds pretty shit-”

Your arms locked around him and you buried your head in the crook of his neck, hands trailing through the curls of blond hair on his head, breathing him in, savoring the feeling of him being back in your arms. “You’re back. You’re back...” You mumbled it like a prayer into his skin, clutching him as sobs wracked your body. The others of the team were too tired to care; they were busying themselves in your kitchen, living room, exploring the flat; they took no notice of you two whatsoever. Billy, however, Billy wrapped you in a tight embrace and held you there, grounding the two of you to the spot. Almost a year of wondering if he made the right decision. Almost a year of wishing he could apologize to you. Almost a year of wanting to feel you in his arms like this again. Almost a year without you, and it drove him mad.

His voice trembled as he whispered so only you’d hear, “I’m so sorry, Y/n. So fucking sorry for what I did to you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Your voice was quieter than his but just as shaky, “I know, sweetheart, I know... But you’re here now, and that’s all I wanted. The chance to tell you I love you, just once more.”

His arms held you tighter, “I love you too.”

You and Billy sat on the end of your bed as time ticked onwards towards the morning. You patched up his cheek where the bullet grazed him earlier, just about burst into tears when he told you why the mission went bad in the first place, and made small talk about what you’ve both been up to in the last few months. Your stories weren’t quite as action-packed as his.

When the two of you returned to the kitchen to be with the others, you found Camille still slightly dazed, talking to Amelia in French, and Amelia nodded along with not a clue as to what Camille was saying. Being fluent in French, and nineteen other languages, you were happy to translate. This seemed to impress One. He had heard a lot about you, not just from Billy, but from the research he had done. If Billy had been taking the team anywhere else but here to rest up, One would have said no. But it was useful being here. He wanted to have a conversation with you at some point.

Blaine had picked up on the cake with the sad single candle and Billy’s name iced on and was counting down the minutes to morning. You noticed this and grinned, overjoyed, and joined him. Three... Two... One... You lit the candle and brought the cake to Billy, who couldn’t stop grinning. He blew out the candle and the room filled with ‘happy birthdays’ from everyone.

“What’d you wish for, Cuatro?” Javier asked, raising his brows curiously.

Billy smiled at you. The same smile that haunted and comforted you when you closed your eyes when you still thought he was dead. “I got part one of my wish already,” He squeezed your hand across the kitchen counter. “Part two... maybe Y/n would be able to take me back after fucking up in the worst way you can fuck a relationship up?”

Everyone looked at you in anticipation. You nodded, too choked up to speak, and framed Billy’s face gently with your hands, kissing him tenderly. It always felt like the first kiss with him, excited and loving, but this one was more serious, as if every ounce of love for you he possessed was being projected through the action.

When you pulled back, One nodded slowly and finally asked, “Y/n, I’ve been doing some research on you. Fluent in twenty languages, graduated early, got your degree in teaching after a brief stint working as an analyst for, who was it, MI6? Translating in the big leagues looks great on any resume. I’ve got a job opening. We’re always on the move, ghosts don’t tend to stay in one place for very long, but we need someone who can make sure we say the right thing.”

All eyes fell on you. Billy’s hand held yours a little tighter. If you said yes, he’d be over the moon. If you said no, he’d likely quit with the ghosts to be here again; leaving you felt like part of him was across the world and lost.

One continued. “I’ve got a job opening for a number Eight.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

~~~~Want a part 2 to this? let me know!!!~~~~

#billyxreader #six underground #6 underground #four x reader #ben hardy #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #xreader #death #number eight #eight #four x eight #eight!reader

52 notes · View notes

tarisilmarwen · 5 years

Text

Hallow’s Eve

(Eeeeeey, it’s ya girl with a BBRae Halloween date as an official apology for all my Whumptober fics this month. Figured we’d go out with some fluff, a little bit of mild creepy, and Beast Boy being the most precious and considerate of beans.

Enjoy!)

---

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Raven said with a light groan, nursing her temples as they stood in front of the entrance.

"Aww c'mon, Rae! It'll be fun, I promise!" Beast Boy told her, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they waited in line. "These guys are professional actors and stage directors! They go all out!" He grinned. "It's honestly almost kind of like being in a horror movie."

Raven raised her face with a withering look. "Beast Boy, do you remember the last time horror movies and I intersected?"

The changeling gave a full-body shudder. "Couldn't forget. But hey," he said, turning his grin on her, "just admit when you're scared this time and nothing will happen, right?"

Raven's hands lifted out in a helpless 'I guess' gesture. She eyed the entrance to the haunted house, some trepidation beating inside her chest.

It didn't look all that scary from the outside; a rickety wooden facade like the entrance to a dilapidated Victorian mansion propped up around an open industrial door that led into a dark interior. But her empathic senses crawled with discomfort from the aura of fear that surrounded the place, rising up and flaring with the screams that punctuated the night air.

Sensing her hesitation, Beast Boy stepped closer, sliding a gloved hand into hers. She looked up into concerned green eyes.

"Hey," he said, all-serious. "If you want to leave, just give a tug on my arm or something, and we can teleport out. Okay?"

That did put her a little more at ease. She exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension winding out.

It was just a little haunted house. None of the monsters were real. No one was actually going to hurt her. And Beast Boy would be right beside her the whole time.

"Okay..." she agreed softly.

He squeezed her hand, then skipped forward as the line moved.

Raven trailed behind him, tucking her arms under cloak to keep them out of the frigid air.

The haze of fear crowded her head as they got closer, but Raven muttered her mantra under her breath to keep it at bay, keep it from seeping in and infecting her own mind. She focused on the tingling excitement inside Beast Boy. He was clearly very eager for this.

She let her mouth quirk into a smile. His anticipation was a warm patch of light in her senses. Calming. Radiant.

Maybe she'd be okay after all.

"Enjoy the show!" the chipper attendant at the entrance said as he took their tickets.

"We'll try," Raven snarked, eliciting a chuckle from Beast Boy.

***

She'd admit it; the work and effort put into this place was impressive.

The 'story', so far as she had gathered, was that they and the six-person group of attendees were paranormal investigators poking around a woman's reportedly haunted family house. There was an actor playing the 'lead' investigator that accompanied their group from room to room, and a middle-aged woman playing the hapless owner of the house that dropped in on them often, sometimes with an occasional jump scare.

For the first fifteen or so minutes, they wandered from room to room of the house, their lead investigator stopping them to check on cameras and thermal equipment, try a call and response, or just chat with the owner about some of the weird things she'd seen going on in the house. They lingered in each room until something appropriately creepy happened—usually a loud noise or a tipped or dropped object—and then the investigator or the owner would bustle them to the next room with the pretense of urgently needing to check something out.

It let the suspense and atmosphere sink in, and gave them plenty of time to admire and appreciate the sets.

Raven didn't think it was quite at movie-level quality but definitely in the realms of high-budget stage play. The warehouse interior had been expertly transformed into an antique Victorian mansion, dust and grime and wear winding through every wall and surface but glimmers of a former majestic glory peeking through.

Beast Boy caught her studying a painted portrait on the wall—ostensibly of the owner's great-grandmother, a youthful-looking woman who looked almost exactly like her granddaughter—and leaned in with a grin and a conspiratorial whisper.

"So? Whadda think so far?" he asked.

"You weren't kidding when you said they go all out," Raven admitted. "I'd love to take a backstage tour just to see more of this set construction and propwork."

The changeling nodded. "Thought you'd like that."

"I'll be honest, though, I kind of thought it would be a little scarier," Raven told him, crossing her arms. She glanced at him. "No offense," she added, since every scare thus far had caused Beast Boy to shriek like a little girl and cling to her cloak.

He shrugged. "Eh, I startle easily. Don't worry," he said. "Around the twenty minute mark is usually when things get really crazy," he warned her.

Her heart gave an audible thump, but whether it was fear or excitement she couldn't tell.

She gripped Beast Boy's hand as their group followed the lead investigator to the next room.

True to the changeling's words, the scares started coming hard and fast, strobe lights flashing up on walls, projectors casting eerie images in the air of monstrous faces, actresses in lacy white dresses appearing suddenly in the corner and wailing.

Raven wrung Beast Boy's hand, and he flipped her cloak over his head more than once to cower underneath. Her pulse jolted and raced, calming and ratcheting up again with a frequency she wasn't entirely sure was healthy.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos... Azarath Metrion Zinthos... she repeated to herself inside her head.

A pair of loud shrieks cracked her hearing and Raven flinched. The two teen girls in front of them stabbed their arms and danced in place, dodging a pale hand that had reached out from under a table to grab at them.

Their momentary terror flared up in Raven's empathic senses, almost overpowering, but she shook her head, finding her center of calm again and letting the emotion pass harmlessly through her.

From under a corner of her cape, Beast Boy poked his head out, watching her in concern.

"You okay, Rae?" he whispered.

Raven's face relaxed. "I'm fine," she assured him. "A bit freaked out. It's a little hard to concentrate."

He straightened, coming out from hiding. "Do we need to tap out?"

She held up a hand, forcing herself to take long deep breaths and count inside her head for a moment.

"I can get through this," she insisted. "Just.. give me a moment."

She pictured the starlit void that was her favorite mental meditation image, letting the other sounds fade away and her thoughts become tranquil.

The lead investigator paused for a moment, shining his flashlight back at them. Out of character, he asked, "Hey Titans, you good?"

Beast Boy looked back at Raven. She had her eyes closed, but a moment later she opened them again, looking much more confident. She nodded.

The changeling flashed a thumbs up.

They followed the group into the next room. There, their lead investigator conferred urgently with a junior assistant, who'd been taking audio samples of the kitchen. They didn't get much time with him, however, as just as his dialogue seemed about to reveal something important the strobes flashed and the lights flickered and something or other came out of the darkness and... ate him or dragged him away or something.

Raven paid a quick glance down at her palm, sending dark matter over her fingers to check that her powers were still normal and the actor's disappearance hadn't been her fault. Satisfied, she almost missed it when Beast Boy started tugging on her arm. The owner's scream had come from somewhere upstairs and the lead investigator was leading the way, charging up the stairs towards the sound.

Their group thundered heavily after him, stopping short when they reached the upper landing and slowly crept through the first door.

Raven startled at the sight that met them inside, a blurted profanity escaping her.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, to Beast Boy's shock.

"Raven!" he gasped, appalled.

The owner was standing off to the side with a creepy smile, with candles burning on the points of a pentagram circle on the floor behind her.

In a calm voice, she explained how calling them there to investigate the haunting had just been a ruse, that she was in fact the ancient grandmatron pictured on the wall downstairs, and that long ago she had made a deal with dark forces to extend her youth and lifespan. The deal required ritualistic sacrifices, naturally, and so their group was in fact just the latest round of victims.

Raven's heart raced through the whole exposition dump, feeling things hit a little too close for comfort.

Women in white appeared all around them, boxing them in and coming closer, and the lead investigator pushed at their backs, shouting, "Go! Go!" and urging them to run the last few rooms towards the exit.

They lost him somewhere behind them, his figure disappearing between two actresses in decaying makeup that grabbed his arms and pulled him away. Raven's feet pounded in time with her heart as the whole house seemed to rebel against them now, walls shifting, doors slamming in their faces, a vertigo tunnel taking over one of the hallways and making her head spin dizzily.

The teen girls ahead of them were inconsolable now, sprinting as fast as they could with Raven and Beast Boy and the rest of the group behind them. Raven felt the fear pressing in, pushing at the boundaries in her head. Her mind ached. But Beast Boy's hand in hers was gripped tight and warm, and he wasn't afraid, laughing a bit as they ran from the specters and apparitions.

Raven let the adrenaline carry her, let the thrill of the chase flood her senses. It looked like they were coming up on the back door. The grandmatron appeared suddenly beside them, reaching out a hand and stretching it towards them.

They put on a final burst of speed as she chased after them, reaching, reaching...

The group spilled out into the open air, a blast of cold night wind hitting their faces.

Shrieking turned into relieved panting and laughing, exclamations of delight rather than horror. The sudden turnaround of emotions made her stagger, shaking her head and washing in the exhilaration that pulsed around their group.

"That..." gasped Beast Boy between deep breaths, doubled over with his hands on his knees, "...was... awesome!"

Raven laughed shortly, putting a hand over her chest and willing her heart to calm. "Azar..." she panted. "That was a plot twist!"

Beast Boy tilted upright. "Yeah, they've got some pretty good writers on their team. I really liked the sci-fi alien invasion they did last year."

Raven couldn't reply, feeling the ringing inside her head diminish and the empathic noise levels return to something manageable. She'd probably have a monster headache in the morning, but it almost felt worth it.

Beast boy nudged her side with his elbow. "Sooooo..." he drawled. "Watcha think?"

She puffed out a breath. "I think..." she said. "We might still need to keep this kind of thing to a minimum. But," she added quickly, seeing and feeling the flash of disappointment in the shape-shifter's green eyes, "I had fun." She turned her face aside, pink heat creeping across her cheeks. "I'm glad I could share this with you."

He beamed. "Being scared's not any fun if you don't have someone else to be scared with! Thanks for doing this with me, Rae. I know it wasn't easy."

She waved him off. "I'll be fine if I meditate for a couple hours and get to bed at a reasonable time," she insisted. "But if I have nightmares tonight I'm blaming you," she warned.

"Fair enough." He grabbed her hand with a brilliant smile. "C'mon, let's go do some non-scary activities to clear your head a bit."

"You're sweet," she told him.

"Just looking out for my girl!" he bragged, leading the way confidently towards the hay rides and carnival games bathed in soft jack-o'-lantern light.

The glow seemed to warm her heart as she walked by his side, letting the frigid night air melt her away into a gentle, peaceful calm.

#bbrae #BBxRae #beast boy #raven #Teen Titans #fanfiction #prompt fics

88 notes · View notes

thestudyof5sos · 5 years

Text

Now Accepting Applications (dad!ashton)

Summary: Ashton’s new to the building and his lifestyle disrupts his downstairs neighbor, Harper; but she’s in for a surprise when she bangs on his door in the middle of the night. Author: 🐾 @larryologymajor Fandon/Pairing: 5SOS / singledad!Ashton with baby girl x angry!neighbor Warnings/Tags: fluff, toddler Irwin, and kitties Word count: 1.9k Now Accepting Applications

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

The rhythmic whoosh and clicking of the ceiling fan in Skyler’s bedroom always lulled her sleep. It typically provided enough white noise to drown out ambient city noises and footsteps of the guy who lived in the flat above her. He was new to the building she thought, remembering the moving boxes heaped in the lobby last week. Prior to his arrival the flat had sat empty since Skyler had moved in last year and she was already lamenting its vacancy.

However, tonight was different. A siren wailed in the distance and Skyler’s ceiling fan wobbled precariously as her upstairs neighbor paced above her. At first the light footsteps thudded hollowly against the floor but over the past twenty minutes they’d become increasingly quicker, almost aggressive.

Skyler could never really hear voices or audible sounds coming from the flat above her, but the building was old; the floors and walls often creaked and groaned as if they were spilling out secrets. The minutes passed by and Skyler’s neighbor continued to pace. Occasional he’d hit a floorboard just right and her entire apartment would shake. Tonight she was convinced he was either walking the Indy 5000 around his flat or raising an elephant up there.

In the dark, Skyler squinted at the clock across the room. Without her glasses, she wasn’t 100% sure that she was reading the right numbers. She sighed and rolled over. It didn’t matter. It was getting later by the minute and she couldn’t sleep. She silently prayed that she’d fall asleep soon and wake up on time to catch her six am train; she had a long day ahead of her serving on a committee out of town for work.

Suddenly, the pacing stopped. Several long seconds ticked by. The night stilled and and Skyler let out a loud sigh of relief; she relaxed into her mattress and pulled the light throw blanket up to her chin. Skyler was seconds away from dozing off when she was jolted awake by the sound of a maniacal vacuum coming from the flat above her.

Desperate for sleep, she jumped out of bed angrily, determined to put a stop to the incessant noise coming from flat 304.

Skyler slid on a long sleeve tee over her pajama shorts and tank, stuffed her feet into flip flops, grabbed her eyeglasses, keys, and phone then marched out her door, down the hallway, and up the stairs.

Skyler approached his door and raised her hand in a fist to pound on the door but she stilled for a moment, afraid to wake his neighbors. Fuck it she thought and rapped three times on the door quite loudly. She stood there quietly for several heart beats, there was no answer. Just as she was about to rap again, the deadbolt flipped and the door slid open enough to see shadows.

Skyler launched into her verbal attack. “It’s after midnight! What the fuck are you vacuuming for??!! Some of us need to sleep! Including me, but I can’t. Because I hear you practically stomping around the flat all night long!”

The door opened the rest of the way and her mystery neighbor’s body slipped through the crack, gently nudging Skyler out of the way. He quickly checked the lock and gently closed the door. “Shut up before you wake her!” he hissed.

“Her??!” Skyler was pissed. She assumed he had female company.

The man’s hands came up to cradle his face. He rubbed at his own temples. Skyler looked him up and down. Even disheveled, he was gorgeous. And Skyler was breathless. His gray joggers rode low on his slim hips, feet bare, and white tee clung to his broad shoulders and sculpted arms in all the right ways. His fingers moved from his temples and carded through his unkempt and dirty ash brown curls. Finally, he looked at Skyler. His unblinking hazel eyes looked straight into hers and her heart skipped a beat. She had never felt eye contact this intense before.

“My daughter. She’s teething. I don’t think either of us have slept since we moved in last week,” he explained.

Skyler studied his face carefully; she could see the exhaustion and stress. “We’re still getting used to the single dad routine,” he added.

Skyler thinks her jaw dropped. “Oh,” she exhaled. “I’m so sorry. Here I am bitching and clearly you need help. I’m Skyler. I live in 204 right below you.”

“Ashton.” He extended a hand to shake it, but Skyler instinctively pulled him in for a hug. Ashton’s body stiffened against her arms but Skyler held on for a few more seconds anyway.

When she released him, she gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry. I’m a hugger by nature and I couldn’t resist. You looked like you needed human touch.”

Now it was Ashton’s turn to study Skyler. Her caramel hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Even in the dimly lit hallway, he could see her green eyes were sparkling. It was a striking contrast from seconds ago when she was angrily banging on his door. Her plump, pink lips curved into a half smile.

Sapphire blue bra straps, or maybe tank top straps, he thought, were peeking out under a gray hooded tee. Matching blue shorts cut off at mid thigh leaving the rest of her legs and feet exposed. Ashton wanted to feel her touch again.

He chuckled. “I should be used to that. My best mate, Luke, is a total hugger too.” He looked at her through his eyelashes. “Maybe we can try that again?”

Was he flirting?! He didn’t know where that came from. Skyler giggled and extended her arms. Ashton stepped into her arms. When he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders he sighed and melted against her body. Instinctively his arms wound around her lower back and he gently guided her back against the wall; his brain shut off and without him thinking, his thumbs hooked over the waistband of her shorts, and he pushed his hips closer to hers. He rested his chin on the top of her head, a loose hair from her bun tickling his nose.

Skyler’s hands slid up his tightly muscled back. Her left thumb stroked at the soft spot behind his ear while her right hand found its way up his neck and began to card through the curls at the nape of his neck.

Ashton’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He didn’t know how, but this felt so intimate and he craved more. It had been almost a year since his fiancé left him alone and broken with a new baby. Over a year since he felt the warm embrace of a female body.

At the age of 32, Ashton’s heart was broken, left shattered on the floor by the love of his life who decided she wasn’t ready to be a mom, even after they spent hours and hours, days really, having lengthy discussions about their options when they found out they were pregnant.

However, when the baby arrived she decided she just couldn’t do it. She packed her things and left quietly; she didn’t have the strength to argue or attempt to explain herself.

Ashton barely functioned the first four months of his daughter’s life. He didn’t know where he would be if Luke wasn’t by his side. He wasn’t ready to be a single parent, or a heartbroken man. Dealing with both of those was an emotional rollercoaster Ashton never wanted to repeat. But his best friend was incredible. All of his close friends were incredible. Luke cleared his schedule and subleased his flat to a summer intern at his firm so he could temporarily move in with Ashton and newborn Evelyn.

The first ten weeks were the worst for Ashton as he tried to develop a new rhythm that included Evelyn. By then though, Luke recruited the remainder of their squad, Calum and Michael, to take turns checking in on the new family and helping out when they could.

When Ashton’s lease was up on the three bedroom flat he previously shared with his fiancé, he decided it was time to move into something smaller. Something more affordable. Something closer to Luke so he would have a big part of his support system near by but far enough for him to be independent so he could let Luke get back to his life.

Ashton was lost in thought when he felt Skyler shift in front of him. She gazed up at him and her fingers stilled, entwined in his hair, when he spoke. “It’s my turn to be sorry. I completely zoned out for a minute. I was thinking about this year. My fiancé left me with Evie when she was ten days old. This year has been strenuous and maddening but I wouldn’t change it for the world. And even with my best friends helping me every day, it’s been lonely. So lonely.”

Skyler’s eyes glistened, she was on the brink of tears for a man she’d known less than five minutes. His story was like the start of a Hallmark movie, she thought. She pulled him closer yet.

“Oh my gosh,” she blinked twice trying to clear her eyes. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through but I can kind of relate. I split from my boyfriend of half a decade earlier this year when we decided we wanted different paths in life. It was an amicable split and we sometimes talk still. But I miss his touch. Maybe not even his touch, but touch in general. I miss having a warm body to snuggle into when I’m cold. I miss hugging and hand holding. I miss the intimacy of closeness.”

She didn’t know why but she felt like it was okay to open up to him too. Ashton gazed at her, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, I guess I could start taking applications for a cuddle buddy. Luke failed me in that department.”

Skyler’s grin mirrored his and she giggled. “I guess I could drop my resume off tomorrow after work!”

Ashton belly laughed and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, afraid his laugh would wake Evie sleeping on the other side of the door. “You should probably bring a bottle of wine and a hearty appetite with your resume. I’ll see you at 7:30 tomorrow for your interview.”

Skyler stood on her tiptoes and brushed a feathery kiss across his stubbled jawline. “Goodnight Ashton.”

“Goodnight Skyler.” He stepped away from her and watched her walk down the hall. He retreated into the flat and and quietly entered the small study turned nursery adjacent to his room. He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead as she slept peacefully in her crib.

As he climbed into bed, Ashton tapped out a quick message to Luke. “I think I met someone.” Ashton closed his eyes, and for the first time in many weeks, he slept soundly.

One floor below him slept Skyler, finally asleep, dreaming about Ashton and his baby.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

#5sos fic #5sos blurb #ashton blurb #ashton irwin blurb #dad!ashton #larryologyfic

40 notes · View notes