#…even if it’s gonna get all messed up from the carnage

[volklana]

I Could Drown Myself In Someone Like You

Part Two

Read Part I Here:

You can find my other Biker!Bucky fic here:

Title Comes from this Song:

Request: Hey girl I literally just found your blog and when I tell you I BINGED your Ride series. Please I beg could we have some more Biker Bucky? Maybe barmaid reader? I really don't mind as long as we get some BikerBuck!

Warnings: This chapter references past domestic abuse, and current alcohol abuse. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

Amidst the carnage of  discarded clothes, tangled sheets and bruising kisses, Bucky collapsed down on top of you a panting mess and your chest heaved as you came down from your own high.

“Fuck, doll,” he sighed eventually, rolling over to pull you close to him, he ran his fingers absentmindedly up and down your arms, to ease his racing thoughts and thumping head. 

He paused all actions when his fingers landed on a large scar that ran almost diagonally across your forearm and he felt you tense when you realised he had felt it, his brow knitted into a frown when he pulled your arm closer to inspect it, realising you were littered in tiny, little circular scars too, and he startled when you pulled your arm completely from his grasp, rising to start pulling your discarded clothes back on. 

“Doll?” he whispered.

“I don’t wanna talk about it Buck,” you pleaded and he looked at you like a kicked puppy when you continued “I didn't ask you how you got your scars, please don’t ask me about mine.”

He shot out of bed and was by your side before you could blink.

“But you could ask me about my scars. You can ask me anything. You got me wrapped around your little finger. I’m all yours.” 

You softened at that and stopped attempting to pull your clothes on in haste and beckoned for him to move into your arms.

“Just, just don’t push me too quick Bucky. I need time to adjust. Can you give me time?”

“I got time,” he agreed, pulling you in for another kiss, before he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you already hard again and had you a panting mess before he even slid inside.

When you woke the next morning Bucky was nowhere to be found, You tried to stop the disappointment pitting in your stomach when you realised his bike wasn’t in the parking lot either, so you pulled on your clothes and headed out to climb into your truck, when the roar of his bike whipped your head around and he stalked across the lot until he reached you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he commanded.

“You weren’t here,” was all you offered and he softened a little “I had some business to take care of. But I’m back now, let me make you breakfast.”

You nodded and followed him back inside, only noticing when you sat down to eat that his knuckles were bloody. 

Bucky was an enigma to you. 

Over the coming weeks, with you, he was all gentle kisses and reassuring, soft touches. He was the Bucky that hung fairy lights around your cabin and picked wild flowers to put in vases in the window. The Bucky who still all these weeks later refused to charge you a single penny in rent. The Bucky who made love to you and looked after you in ways no one else had ever done. 

But you knew he could be reckless and at times a little too fond of whiskey. Bucky kept a lot of secrets, like where he snuck away to sometimes, returning bloody knuckled, or why he sometimes woke up screaming in his sleep. 

You tried to remind yourself that you too were carrying secrets of your own, but the truth was you were falling in love with Bucky, and that thought above all terrified you more than anything else. The sinking fear that someday this was all gonna come crashing down around you.

You were trying your best not to be a flight risk but the packed bag you hid under your bed was a constant reminder that you would always be ready to run when your time came. 

It didn’t take long for Steve and Sam to find out that you and Bucky were sneaking around, but despite his best attempts to keep you occupied, you were never late for a single shift.

About a month or so into seeing Bucky, Steve had been lingering around you all day and you finally had enough when he followed you down to the cellar.

“Steve,” you giggled “Whatever you have to say to me, just out with it.”

He laughed too, for a second, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I love Bucky y/n, he’s my brother for life.”

“But?” you quirked and he released a shaky breath. 

“But the war fucked him up, alright? It changed him. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He won't hurt me Steve,” you assured, side stepping him and making your way back up to the bar.

“He won’t mean to,” Steve sighed and had to make peace with the fact that he had warned you as best as he could while also remaining loyal to his best friend.

Your laughter bounced off the walls of the closed bar, as you and Sam were setting up for opening. Bucky had been in the office going through the books when you got in, so you’d quickly pecked his cheek, leaving him to his work, but frowned when you saw the glass of whiskey on the desk.

You had been busy setting baskets of condiments out on each table while Sam was prepping food at the grill, singing along to the radio and using a flipper as a microphone, he made his way across the floor and took you in his arms and you danced across the floor together singing along too, giggling as he spun you around.

You startled when Bucky’s voice boomed across the floor.

“Get the fuck away from her Wilson,” he barked and was marching your way in the blink of an eye.

Sam immediately stepped away, hands in the air in surrender, the smile slipping off his face. 

“You don’t fucking touch her,” he was seething and pulled your arm in his and began to pull you behind him, you tried to wrestle free, slapping at him.

“Who do you think you are?” you gasped “Let go of me Buck.”

Bucky whirled you in front of him and you immediately prepared yourself for the slap coming your way, backing away, small hands up in defeat, trying to make yourself as small as possible, breathing laboured as you tried to fight off the incoming familiarity of a panic attack. 

But the slap never came.

And Bucky was rooted to the spot, sheer panic written all over his face.

“Doll?” he pleaded “Doll I would never-” 

But it was too late, you were sprinting out into the parking lot, tears streaming down your face and you fought to force air down into your burning lungs. 

Bucky came to find you, crouching down beside you. Stroking your hair.

“I would never hurt you,” he cried “Please doll. I need you to know that,” you nodded furiously, but you both knew. You knew the magic of the past few weeks was broken. 

You thought briefly of that packed bag in your room, and Bucky’s mind wandered to a faraway bunker in the Middle East. 

Despite it all you worked your shift, but even the regulars were put off by how quiet you were. You worked in silence and refused to meet Sam’s eyes all night.

When your shift finished, you pulled your apron off and Bucky was offering to ride you home.

“I think- I think I wanna be alone tonight Buck,” you said meekly and your words burned Bucky, as he watched you leave.

“I should go after her,” he sighed and Steve slammed the glass he was cleaning down.

“Bucky,” he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You should respect her wishes and leave her alone. And you should apologise to Sam for being an asshole. But we both know you’re going to do exactly neither of those things.” 

The pounding on your front door pulled you from your tears, and you rolled over, hoping Bucky would take the hint and just leave but you knew Bucky better than that.

You let him knock a few more minutes before you finally swung the door open.

He was drunk, propped up on your porch with one hand and swaying slightly.

“Did you ride your bike out here like that?” you demanded as he barged his way by you inside. 

“How did you get those scars?” he demanded attempting to catch your arm but you snatched it back quickly.

“Buck what? No. We’re not doing this tonight,” you cried. 

“Someone did that to you didn’t they!” he demanded “That’s why you flinch. That’s why you run, that’s the cause of the panic attacks.”

“I don’t want to talk about this Bucky,” you cried “Please just go.” 

“I want to talk about it,” he snapped. “I want to talk about it because goddamn it doll, I don’t want you to have to hide any part of yourself from me. I want you all. And I’m sorry I’m such a piece of shit and I made you scared earlier. But I didn’t even know I could feel like this ever again.” He was tugging frantically at the ends of his long hair. 

“Bucky,” you cried “You’re saying all of this because you’re drunk, you would never say this to me sober.”

“I’m fucking terrified. Can’t you see that doll? I’m in so deep I don’t even know how to get back out. I need- Fuck I need you to know that I never want to hurt you. I would rather die.” 

He made his way over to you cupping your face and forcing your eyes to meet his, “The way I feel. The way you make me feel. I thought it was impossible. But you made it possible.” 

You wanted to melt into his touch, to fawn and assure him that everything was okay but you had nearly lost your life running away from your last relationship and as much as Bucky loved you, and you couldn’t deny you loved him, he was a loose canon.

“I don’t think I can do this Buck. It’s too much! The drinking-the fighting. I need calm. I need peace.” 

“And I need you,” he pleaded, “If I agree to see a shrink. If I give up the whiskey. If I put the work in for me, for us, could you see a future with me?” 

You nodded, because honestly you could, but you would need to see the proof. 

“If you did those things, if you give me breathing room, I could see my future with you.”

Bucky looked into your eyes for what felt like an eternity, before he nodded slowly, he knew in that second that he would change his whole life to make you happy, and safe.

“How did you get your scars?” he whispered and pressed his forehead to yours.

You sighed a shaky breath and nodded gently, “Knives, cigarettes, anything he could get his hands on,” you cried “That’s what I’m running from Buck. That’s what I’ve left behind.” 

He pulled you to him in an instant, peppering kisses to your forehead, your hair and eventually your face.

“I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again. Including- Especially me.”

Tagging: @spookyparadisesheep   @jbbarnesgirl   @salvatoreitmeanssaviour@princesscornbread   @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff     nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179   brasspistol  thelittleredrobinhood tiedyedghoulette mishkatelwarriorgoddess

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #biker!bucky #mcu fanfiction #volklana writes

[sweatervest-obsessed]

okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁

THIS IS SUCH A MESS but i hope you get my point</33

Um yeah so, absolutely. Some angst for you indeed. I love a convoluted and angsty fight, especially whenever someone is arguing in circles with someone else because they're both just so passionate but angry, anyways, heheh, enjoy!!

WC: 1.5k

TW: Arguing, mentions of violence, mentions of prison, mentions of guns, honestly if you watched CM then that is your TW.

“I just want to know why you’ve been so distant lately. I mean, this is the first time I’m speaking with you one on one in over a week, and it’s because I manage to catch you in the office at nine fucking pm Y/n.”

"So what do you want me to say, Spence? What could I possibly have to say to you? I'm pretty sure Jennifer said everything there is to say."

This caused Spencer to lose all of the oxygen in his body. It froze up. You weren’t supposed to know what JJ had said, no one was supposed to know what JJ had said. 

You and Spencer were in the bullpen of the BAU. Luckily for both of you, since it was so late, no one else was there. Neither of you were extremely public when it came to your relationship, which meant neither of you would have chosen to have this conversation fight in a public place, but no one else was around.

I want you to say something you're afraid to say. Something you'd never tell anybody. And you better make it good. Cause if it's not, it's going to be the last thing you ever say. What's it gonna be?

“How did you know about that?” He whispered. 

“JJ asked Garcia to go through the footage, apparently she wanted to make sure no one could ever access the audio from it.”

"Y/n I--" Spencer closed his eyes, his jaw set. He didn’t even know what to say at this point. You had both clearly made up your minds about this, yet neither of you wanted to see the carnage, the outcome of it all. So, instead, you chose to stand in the middle of the bullpen, fighting against one another.

Fighting for one another.

"I just don't understand why you're so upset about this."

“Spencer–you didn’t even tell me about it, I had to find out about it from Penelope, and who knows who else she told. You were afraid to tell me, yet that giant genius brain of yours can’t, oh I don't know, comprehend just a teeny tiny little bit why this makes me upset?" For the millionth time this evening, you scoffed. 

Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me, or I'll kill him.

"Y/n--"

Spence, I've always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before, and now things are really just too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.

"Fuck Spencer I have been in love with you since I first fucking joined this team." You gasped out. The air around your head got thinner and felt dizzying like you were floating through the air now that this was off your chest. "And I loved you when you asked me on a date. I loved you through Emily's death. I loved you when you asked me to move in with you. I loved you through when Morgan left the team. I loved you through Hotch leaving. I loved you through fucking Cat Adams. I loved you even after I came home one night and you were making out with her against our fucking door. I loved you through every single case and every single flaw. I loved you when you fucking relapsed a few years ago. I even loved you when you went MIA for weeks and then found out you were in a fucking Prison. And I still fucking love you now. But, instead of being together, you asked for a break."

"That's not fair..." He whispered.

"What? Respecting you and your boundaries? Knowing that you needed time to readjust after you had been released, and believing in your promise that once you felt ready to try a relationship again you'd come to me and talk to me about it? And then watching as you fall for JJ all fucking over again? With your stupid fucking glances. This isn't a goddamn tv show Reid, I can see when you both stare at one another across the room, I can see it."

"We don't.."

"You do. You both do. And then, you tell me that Jennifer fucking Jareau is willing to make her last words the fact that she has always loved you and has always been in love with you, and you---" Your voice froze, the sound cutting out. You looked straight at Spencer, not caring about the tears running down your cheeks. You watched as his hand twitched up. When the two of you were dating, Spencer used to wipe away every single of your tears. But now he wouldn't even lift his hand.

"I--what."

You took another breath, trying to calm down, and really think through your words. "This woman who has been your best friend for over a decade just fucking confessed her love for you, in a life-or-death situation, and you're telling me, that she just fucking made it up, pulled it out of her ass, or at least is telling you that she did and now the two of you are going to act like everything is normal and okay?"

"Y/n..."

"You were in love with her for years Spencer. And now, all of a sudden she confesses her love to you, and that changes nothing?"

"No, Y/n, it doesn't. It changes nothing. Does it hurt a bit? Yes. Does it change the fact that I love you? No." Spencer was trying to keep his voice level, hoping you'll continue to match his volume since he didn't want anyone to potentially stumble by and hear your argument. His hand reached for your wrist, but you couldn't bear to feel his skin against yours.

This caused you to let out a water laugh, tears sliding into your mouth, ugly but pouring down your cheeks. A waterfall of grief in all of its rawest forms.

"You still love me."

"Why-Why is that funny."

"I have been waiting to hear those words since you walked out of that fucking prison and the first time I hear it in years, it's because you're trying to justify loving someone else."

"That's not true."

Make it a million and one, you scoffed.

"I have loved you since the moment you first walked through those doors. You were in a pale blue pair of pants, and a black sweater--I remember it because Emily complimented the pants. I spend my whole life loving you and manage to never fully give you every single piece of love I have because there's simply not enough time in the world. I would kill for you. I would go to prison all over again if it meant you would be okay in this world." Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his voice strained. But his eyes never left yours. "Last week, when that unsub had his gun against your head, I fired before he even spoke, not because I assessed it was the right time or whatever fucking excuse I gave to Emily. I fired that bullet because if you died in front of me, I'd......The only thing I was thinking about the entire fucking time JJ and I were stuck in that room was how the fuck I was going to be able to tell you I love you one last time because I wasn't fucking smart enough to take my chance and say it to you every single day."

Your chest was heaving, but you didn't move towards him. It didn't feel right, it didn't feel real.

Spencer was able to take your hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, trying to get you to look at him. "I should have told you the moment I was ready to try a relationship again, but I thought you...I thought you had moved on because I wasn't worth waiting for."

This caused you to laugh again, eyes red from crying. "Don't fucking start with that shit Spencer.''

"I'm telling the god's honest truth."

"I waited for you throughout all of Prison. I waited for you through Maeve. I am still pathetically standing right fucking in front of you, waiting for you to hopefully realize that you still love me."

He kissed your hand. "And I don't deserve you at all for it."

"Do you still love her?"

"Y/n."

"Answer the question, Spencer. Or I'm done. I-I can't do this any longer, watching you....the way she looks at you just--"

Spencer pulled you into his arms, enclosing your body in his arms and kissing the side of your head. "I have always, and will always, love you Y/n Y/l/n. And I want to spend the rest of our lives proving to you that I would choose you, I want you, over and over again."

“That’s not an answer Spencer.” You whispered, rigid in his arms.

“I-I.” He closed his eyes. “I did. And I still do love her, but not like that. I haven’t been i-in love with her since the moment you walked through those doors.”

Spencer felt the weight of your head against his shoulder as you finally conceded and hugged him back, tightly. “Let's go home.” He muttered into your head, waiting patiently for you to hum in agreement. 

Neither of you moved though. You both stood there, locked eternally in the other’s embrace, enjoying the peace you felt for the moment, even though tomorrow was a new day, where you would have to sort through how you really felt about all of this. 

But tonight, you stood with your arms around your love, forever.

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader #spencer reid masterlist #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x male reader

[rain0tes]

first of all, love the art <33 (keep up with the good work!! You are doing great!) ❤️❤️❤️

and may I make a request on how Hacker!Reader might react to Sir Pentious and Adam getting stabbed brutally by nifty?

no words can explain how much I love this

— 🦊 Anon

Hi 🦊 nonnie! It's so good to see you again! How was your day? Did you drink enough water? Also, your ask really made me stop and think for a while, haha. (I'm only gonna do Lucifer getting stabbed, tho. mb)

Warnings: angst (kinda), canon typical violence, mature language, character death

Part two to this alternate scenario.

Everyone was on edge after hearing the news of what happened while Charlie and Vaggie were in that meeting in heaven. After hearing about what will happen.

You all had one month.

Despite everyone else's resolve to stay and fight, you were hesitant. You had no real skills in fighting. Hell, you'd be more of a burden than help if you were out on the battlefield.

"So what if you weren't?"

Pentious, bless his soul, was the one to suggest it. Gesturing at the android of you that the two of you had made.

You start working on another droid right there and then, although this time with tougher steel and better articulation. Pentious helps you with the more rigorous parts of building the battledroid, having more experience actually building something (this man can weld and he's damn good at it).

It took a while to configure, and then a bit more to get used to controlling it, but by the end of the month, you're well ready.

The night before, everyone was gathered at the hotels lobby, the smell of alcohol heavy in the air as you tried to gather your thoughts despite the chatter.

"Don't go sulkin on us now, toots. Come on, enjoy yaself." Angeldust laughs, pushing a glass into your hands.

"You know I don't drink." You chuckle along, shaking your head no.

"Come on, just for tonight. You look like you're about to self-destruct, and the angels aren't even here yet."

"Fine." You relent, squinting your eyes at the glass before drinking it down as fast as you could. Much to your dismay, the bitter taste still lingers on your tongue.

"Blegh. It's bitter." Angeldust laughs loudly, and you laugh along.

The rest of the night is a blur.

By the early morning, everybody was already up making preparations. Last-minute recalibrations were in order to check if everything was functioning properly.

While everybody else waited for the battle outside, you remained inside, holographic screen in front of you showing you what the droid was seeing. Two specialised controllers in both your hands, reminding you of the times you used to play vr games.

This wasn't the time for that.

As the portal to heaven opened, the battle started.

Sometime in the middle of the fight, you hear something crash from above, and you take that as a sign to leave.

Just before you can make your exit, part of the rubble falls onto your leg. After a bit of struggle, you manage to get out, but now, with a limp to your step.

Charlie sees you hobbling out of the hotel in her peripheral.

"Are you alright?"

You nod, looking around at the mess and carnage.

The smell of blood is nauseating, but the adrenaline keeps you from emptying your stomach.

"Where's Pentious?"

Almost like she had just realised that he was gone, she looked around as well, then pointed upwards.

"There!"

You turn to follow her gaze, your heart dropping to your stomach when you see just what Pentious was up to.

Adam turns to the giant war blimp, vaporizing it in a blink of an eye.

There's a ringing in your ear, the world slowing down around you.

What?

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to process what happened, especially since you were in the middle of a life or death situation.

Fighting back your tears, you summon the droid to where you are just in time to block an angels attack.

When Lucifer joined the battle, you knew that you were saved. After a bit more destruction, all was fine and well.

The angels have retreated. You can finally relax, your body a bit battered, but that's something that can be fixed later.

A strangled yelp catches your attention, turning to look at Lucifer, blood pouring out of a new wound you're sure wasn't there earlier.

Nifty dangles on with a knife in her hands.

You move before you can realise it. Wires wrapping around the small sinner, throwing her off to the side as you scanned through Lucifers wounds.

"No, no, no. Not again." Your voice cracks as you cradle the king of hell close to you. You already lost a friend tonight, you're not going to lose another.

You look at the still bleeding wound. Placing a hand over it, you mutter an apology before using your electricity to cauterize the wound.

You purse your lips into a thin line, hands trembling as you check Lucifers pulse.

It's slow, but there.

You let out a big sigh of relief, a chuckle escaping your throat as tears freely flow down from your face. You can't tell if they're from happiness, grief, or both.

Vaggie pries Lucifer out of your trembling hands while Charlie places a hand on your back, trying to console your sobbing form.

(masterlist)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #gn reader #hazbin reader insert #alastor #angel dust #charlie morningstar #vaggie #sir pentious #lucifer x reader

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Promise Me

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female reader

Warnings: failed relationship, miscarriage, angst, alcohol abuse, car accident

I’ve written this for @callsign-phoenix Sophie’s 1k follower challenge using the prompt ‘Hangman’s Hangover’.

“How many of those has he had,” Phoenix asked, aiming her pool cue towards Hangman. He was sitting at the bar surrounded by empty glasses, and his hair was a mess, not in its usual neatly gelled state. He had dark shadows under his blue eye and the gray tracksuit wasn’t doing him any favors.

“I have no clue but I have a feeling one of us is going to have to carry him home,” Coyote grunted, taking the cue from Phoenix.

“I’m not even sure what he’s drinking now. He started with whiskey but since then he’s had vodka and god knows what.” Bob chimed in, popping another peanut into his mouth as he watched his friends play.

“This has really done a number on him,” Coyote mumbled.

“They lost a child, Coyote. They are both hurting and I don’t blame them. Do you remember how excited he was when she was pregnant?” They all thought back to that day when Jake came running into the Hangman, the biggest grin on his face and waving a small piece of paper. It was the sonogram and he’d carried it in his flight suit ever since.

“Yeah but they didn’t need to break up over it.” Coyote grumbled, he never understood that if they loved each other and needed each other so much why they broke up.

Phoenix sighed, “They're just processing their grief differently and it's hard on both of them. She is just as broken up about this as he is.” Phoenix glared at her fellow aviator displeased.

“I know it's not her fault. I didn’t mean I like that. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through,” he sighed. “I just hate seeing him like this.”

“We all do Javy,” Phoenix explained, “I just know that both of our friends are hurting and they need us.” She set the cue down on the pool table, abandoning the game. “I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m gonna check in with her on my way home.”

Bob and Coyote waved her goodbye and watched as she placed a gentle hand on Jake’s back before leaving.

“You’re up Bob,” Coyote said, leaning across the table smirking as he took another shot.

“What!” Bob's expression resembled a deer in the headlights, a few peanuts escaping from the cup and rolling down his uniform.

“Well I spent all of last week helping him home and he was sick in my car. Do you know how long it took me to get the smell out?”

Bob's face crumpled a little and he wrinkled his nose at the thought of Jake vomiting in his car. He’d never really liked Jake, he had been a dick to him ever since their first meeting before the uranium mission and he always managed to find a way to pick on him. But looking at his fallen comrade now, Bob couldn’t have felt more sympathetic, he loved you both dearly and he felt your pain.

Having been as thick as thieves since your Top Gun training, you had started dating shortly after. You were the kind of couple that everyone wanted to be, so in sync with each other, you knew what the other would do before they had even thought of it. It was the kind of love Bob had always wanted, the kind of love from movies that he’d seen as a kid. He was convinced that you would get married after the uranium mission especially once you’d found out you were pregnant. Jake had been ecstatic and had even promised to make Bob the baby’s Godfather. He smiled at the thought of that day, everyone had been celebrating at the Hard Deck, even Mav was there raising a toast to the newest member of the Dagger Squad.

Bob’s face fell as he thought back to the fateful nights two weeks ago. It had been carnage. The couple had been in a car accident on the way back from a party and Maverick and Penny’s house. A drunk driver came out of nowhere and rammed them clean off the road. Jake came away mostly unscathed but you had taken a direct hit from the car on your side and was left with a broken collarbone and multiple broken ribs. The baby hadn’t survived and when you had both needed each other most you just couldn’t stand to see each other so hurt. After fighting like mad, eventually the doctors advised that Jake stopped coming to visit. That was the last time Jake had seen you and since that day spent most of the time at the bar drowning his sorrow.

Bob sighed, placing his empty cup of peanuts down and headed towards where Jake was sitting.

“Hey Bagman, mind if I sit here?” He gestured to the bar stall next to him. Jake mumbled something and Bob took that as an invitation to sit down. “What you got there.” Bob pointed towards his single glass that was no longer surrounded by others. Penny must have tidied up, Bob thought to himself.

“I don’t know,” Jake replied, expressionlessly.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” Bob asked worriedly. How much had he drunk?

“Well, Penny wanted to clean up the glasses so I poured it all into one.” He slurred, waving his hand over the glass. “I got whiskey and vodka. I think there’s some beer in there too and I had tequila. Oh, and I had a gin and tonic earlier too.”

“Shit Jake, what’s that a recipe for a ‘Hangman hangover?”

The other pilot snorted and downed the rest of the glass, pulling a face at the foul taste. He stood up from the bar stool, wobbling slightly and Bob grabbed his arm to support him. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get you home ok.”

“No Bobby, I don’t want to go home.” His lip began quivering as Bob carefully guided him out to his car and got him seated in the front seat. “Please don’t leave me, Bobby. I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me.” He started sobbing into the sleeve of Bob’s jacket and Bob pulled him close. Jake gripped onto him like he was a life raft in the middle of the ocean and he didn’t want to let go. Bob could feel all the tension leaving Jake’s body as he cried, burying his head into the crook of Bob’s neck. The two men embraced like this for a while, neither wanting to let go too soon. When Jake eventually pulled away, he looked up at his fellow aviator with teary eyes. “Please can I come home with you, Bob? I promise not to be a dick to you and I'll try my best not to be sick in your car.” He hiccuped and for a moment Bob thought he looked like a child pleading with his parents, he looked so innocent.

“Sure thing Bud,” was all Bob could muster, helping Hangman swing his leg into the car and doing up his seat belt, before going round to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, Bob kept watching as Jake became more and more green but kept promising he wouldn’t be sick. When they reached Bob’s apartment, Jake was straight out of the car and vomited on the pavement outside his house. “I’m so sorry Bob,” he almost cried, continuing to wretch even though his stomach was empty.

“It’s fine Jake. Don’t worry.” Bob helped the other man up the drive and through the front door, aiming him straight for the bedroom. Jake collapsed onto Bob’s bed with a sigh while he went to retrieve a towel and bucket. When Bob returned Jake was asleep and he had to try and roll the larger man onto his side next to the bucket. He pulled off Jake’s shoes and his jeans, leaving him in his T-shirt and boxers. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Bob thought. He retreated to the door and was about to go out when Jake stirred. “Bob, will you stay with me for a while?” He called out softly. Bob stood in the doorway debating his options before agreeing and sitting beside Jake on the bed. Jake rolled over so that he had his head resting on Bob's leg. Bob tensed slightly unsure of what to do so he just sat with his arms crossed, listening as Jake talked.

“I’m so lost without her Bobby. She was my everything and we were so happy. I…” He sniffled and wiped his nose with his hand. “I don’t know what to do without her. I was a dickhead and I don’t know why. Everything just hurt so bad and I ended up losing both of them.” A steady stream of tears began following down his cheeks. Bob placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, comfortingly. “I don’t know what to do.” Jake continued to talk quietly and Bob listened.

“Bob, can I get you to promise me something?” He looked up at him, the hurt evident in his eyes.

“Sure thing, Jake.”

“Promise me that if you ever love someone as much as I love her, promise me you’ll never let her go. Promise me, Bob.” More tears began to fall from Jake’s eyes and he lay his head back on Bob’s leg.

“I promise, Bagman.”

The two men continued to sit in silence until he could hear soft snores leaving Jake's mouth. He wriggled out from under his fellow pilot and made his way out of the room quietly. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called phoenix.

“Hey Bob,” she whispered when she answered.

“Hey Nat, I’m sorry I know it's late,” he began.

“No, it's fine. Don’t worry. She’s only just gone to sleep.” He could hear Phoenix shuffling around at the other end of the phone before her voice became louder.

“She’s a mess, Bob.”

“Bob sighed, “ Yeah, so is Jake. I’ve got him at my place and all he’s done is cry since we left the bar. I don’t know what to do?”

“We need to do something. I can't keep watching them go through this.” Phoenix sighed. “I think we need to get them to see each other again. To talk through everything.”

Bob agreed quietly, trying to think of a way they could get their two friends back together.

“How about you come by my place with Bagman tomorrow afternoon? I'll get her to come over and we can see if they’ll talk to each other.”

“That’s a good plan, Nat. Thanks.”

“No worries, Bobby. It’s a date.” She laughed at Bob tripping over his words on the other. “I’m joking, Bob. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bob laughed awkwardly. “See you tomorrow, Nat.” The two pilots hung up the phone and Bob sat on the sofa. Maybe they could get Jake and you to work through this, after all, they had the kind of love from a movie.

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @luckyladycreator2 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @alexxavicry @abaker74 @elenavampire21

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun movie #top gun moodboard #hangman x reader #topgun #top gun hangman

[7ndipity]

Run!BTS Halloween Pumpkin Carving Special

Ot7

Summary: Just crack headcannons about how letting them carve jack-o-lanterns is a bad idea

Warnings: overuse of the word pumpkin, not proofread,

A/N: Did anyone ask for this? No. But it’s my blog and I’m gonna post them anyway bc they make me laugh to think about.(also, I wrote this out at like one am last night, so sorry it’s a mess)

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Everything starts out normal enough: the intro plays, Jimin starts the “Run!” “BANGTAN!” and everyone cheers. The normally all white soundstage is decorated with black and orange streamers, faux bats and spider webs hanging everywhere.

“Since it’s October,” The director starts to explain. “It’s September though.” Jin mumbled. “It’ll be October when this airs, shh.” Hobi shushes him. “Since it’s almost Halloween,” The director tries again. “We thought Army would enjoy seeing you display your creativity by carving and decorating pumpkins.”

They show the table covered in various carving and decorating tools, from paints and stickers to carving knives.

They give them like an hour to decorate their pumpkins, saying they’ll be giving out points for skill and originality, and the winner gets a prize(that’s probably food) before starting the clock and the carving/decorating begins.

Almost immediately, it’s a mess.

Everyone’s complaining about the pumpkin smell, Jimin and Jin have mini heart attacks watching Namjoon try to get a handle on using the carving knives, begging him to please just use the paints or smth but nope. Hobi is moreso doodling on his pumpkin with the pens, only using the knives to cut eye holes. Tae seems to be plotting some sort of tribute to an artist from the 1950s. Jimin’s just designing a lil chibi guy.

“YAH Namjoon!” Tae suddenly yells, noticing that the elder member has managed to catch his sleeve in the yellow paint Tae had been using, too busy trying not to throw up from the pumpkin smell to realize, leaving a bright trail across the table.

Jin and Jungkook start bickering over smth and end up chucking pumpkin guts at each other from opposite ends of the table.

Jimin tries to get up and move to avoid getting hit by the mess, but ends up just slip-sliding around in the debris(cut to a flashback to the same situation during the slip n slide soccer ep), before giving up and just ends up sitting on the floor behind the table.

Hobi also takes cover, hiding under the table in an attempt to shield his pumpkin and himself from the chaos.

Yoongi makes a crack about having flashbacks to military training.

Tae is just giving Jk all the guts from his own pumpkin to use as ammo against Jin, telling him to aim for the face. At this point, he and Yoongi are the only two still in their original seats, working mostly unbothered.

We then have a brief intermission as things are cleaned up.

The set is much cleaner now, there’s no more pumpkin carnage, but Jin and Jungkook’s hair is still noticeably sticky looking. It honestly feels like a miracle that there’s even finished products to see.

Joon’s is a slightly mangled mess, as if he dropped it(he did). Jimin’s looks cute, the face is slightly lopsided and one tooth is slightly chipped, thanks to the earlier chaos. Hobi’s is either super cute or unnervingly creepy. Tae’s is just a bunch of abstract shapes. Jin’s is a classic triangle face. Jungkook’s looks pretty good, and would've had more detail if he’d spent more time on it rather than fighting Jin. Yoongi’s is either super detailed like Jk’s, or is literally just three holes gouged into it to look like the OoO emoji.

(y’all can tell me who you think the winner is lol!)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow@k4ngelz

#bts headcanons #bts crack #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts incorrect quotes #incorrect bts quotes #seokjin headcanons #yoongi headcanons #hoseok headcanons #namjoon headcanons #jimin headcanons #taehyung headcanons #jungkook headcanons #7ndipity

[ittybittyluci]

Not me eagerly awaiting Epic the Musical’s Underworld Saga release because I feel like it’s going to make for some KILLER HH crossover in the form of horrific Lucifer angst. Like, I’ve already got some ideas flowing. Whether anything comes of them who knows? Whether I remember them? WHO KNOWS. But as of right now? MMM so excited.

Like, just picture this w/ me for a second (I’m gonna put my brain-rot fantasies after the cut for all of y’all who could not give less of a shit):

Imagine the song “The Underworld.”

“This land confuses your mind / When does a man become a monster? / 558 men who died under your command”

It starts with Lucifer closing his eyes, then opening them in like a pitch black environment.

“Captain, Captain, Captain, Captain!”

The first three have of him running into like— more angelic spears which corral him into a corner. The last one he like looks up at just sees ALL the angels glaring at him.

“Why would you let the Cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy!”

Here I imagine it starts w/ flashbacks of him giving Eve the apple. Then, there’s is like a giant black snake forms from/behind/around the angel and in some way like kinda just.. “consumes” Lucifer, like it jumps up in the air, comes back down on him. He flinched, and when he opens his eyes again he’s alone, on the ground in Hell, covered in blood, and has his demonic traits showing. Idk, just something super symbolically horrific that would def be something u see in a nightmare.

“All I hear are screams… / Every time I dare to close my eyes / I no longer dream / Only nightmares of those who’ve died. / (Nothing’s what it seems) Nothing’s what it seems / but in the underworld the past seems close behind”

Here Lucifer is just looking around at all the carnage and graphic depictions Hell has to offer. I also imagine at some point he sees his own demonic form and like— physically jumps back in fear/repulsion. Just like real graphic, horrific, nightmare fuel. The frames go by somewhat quickly, just a jumbled mess of gore and violence and terror.

“I keep thinking of the infant from that night / I keep thinking of the infant from that night.”

The like gorey images get faster, but also mixed in are actual images of him falling, angellic spears, him giving Eve the apple, Lilith, basically everything that you could imagine is part of his trauma. Like, they just flash by the screen faster and faster on repeat until u can’t even rlly tell what they are anymore. Then, after the second repeat of the verse, the music stops abruptly and he sits up straight in bed, looks around, realizes it was a dream, then it’s just a wide shot of him alone in his room, looking haunted and tired but not panicked anymore.

Idk if I would want him to be staying at the Hotel, or in his castle in his big like King sized bed w/ half the bed not slept in, but either way yummy angst.

——

Haha, oops, went on a little ramble there. Oh well. Hopefully someone will care and agree that this would be bombed. Or not. Who rlly gives a shit? Not me, I just needed to write this down XD.

I also have another idea for the song No Longer You but I’m not gonna go on a whole spiel, and instead just say it starts at “But that’s not a world I know” w/ Luci looking in the mirror at his demon form. Then form “I see a song of past romance” onward is Lucifer reflecting back on Lilith, the apple, his Fall, etc. Then finally on “But it’s no longer you” flash back to present day Lucifer who kinda just sighs and (maybe) sheaths his demonic attributes sadly/ashamed oh b4 walking away.

—

MMM don’t u love when you just have all the ideas but you forgot your stylus at home so you can’t even TRY to attempt to start a project ur never gonna finish?

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #i love luci #hazbin hotel #apple daddy #lucifer #duck lord #short king #lucifer angst #tumblr sexyman #epic the musical #crossover animatic concept #animatic inspiration #concept idea #just word vomit honestly #I needed to get these visions out into the world #you MUST know what’s going through my head #it was too good to not say anything #I would actually die to see something like this made. #I’m chomping at the bit for April 26

[dirtytransmasc]

the little warrior (spider fic)

What if spider sacrificed himself for jake? what if his family was forced to watch him die? what would spider see in his afterlife?

based off of this post

mother/father is ronal and tonowari, mom/dad is zdog and quaritch. It just feels right in my soul. I didn't beta this, I tried, got bored, and y'all are gonna just have to be ok with that. more notes at the end. 

The shock of spider taking a bullet for jake was enough to stop the entire battlefield in its tracks. Think hector and patrolcus; the RDA had messed with spider a few times before and each time they learned only one thing came form messing with spider, and that was carnage. Spider was the heart and soul of the little platoon, he held it all together, bringing once enemies into one family. They knew that touching a hair on his head would get them all killed, but killing him? They knew to start saying their prayers. The intent was to kill jake, collapse the unit; whether it happened then and there or shortly after the fact, it hadn’t mattered to them. But now there was little hope any of them would make it out of there alive. 

The first to react was Ao’nung, his instinct to protect his baby brother cutting through the shock and hazy disbelief. He has to push past jake to get to his brother before he hits the ground, screaming, curses and prayers alike, all the while. He knows spider knew what he was doing, saw his face ease as he saw jake turn around unscathed, he hated it, hated how selfless his brother was, wanted to scream at him for being so stupid (he never dropped his grudge with jake, it had been months since spider became his brother, but he would never forget what led up to it). But as the fear and adrenaline catch up with spider, his face freezing up as he registered the pain, he can't help but pull him closer and slowly to the ground, trying to ignore the sharp smell of blood, his brother's blood. It’s ok, it’s ok, mama will fix it, I promise she’ll make it better. He frantically hummed an answer, clinging to him as pain blossomed in his chest like a crude burn.

Their parents and sister are quick to follow - a war-seasoned chief, a tsahik, and a healer in training - all 3 trying to stay calm for their son and brother, but its hard when the light and life is so quickly draining from his face. 

he tries to talk to them but between the pain and the blood pooling in his lungs, he can't get anything out. he seeks his mother's hand and his father's touch, but he can't ask for it and his strength is waning so he can't reach for it either. All he can do is listen to his mother's cries, and  focus on his sister's hands on his legs or his father's big hands on his chest. he knows his brother's holding his head up, he tries desperately to keep his eyes open, to follow his coaxing, even if he would much rather settle into the warmth of his hands and let sleep take him. But he knows it would upset him if he went without a fight, that it would break his parents hearts.

His mother is be praying desperately, unable to pull herself way from her child, but her mind too clouded with grief to do much else. Same with his sister though she was attempting to apply what her mother had taught her. His father and brother could only focus on the blood, all the blood, pouring from his chest and his mouth and nose; that and the tears they couldn't wipe because of the mask he so desperately needed. He felt his father trying to keep pressure on the wound but the bleeding went deeper then he could have any effect on, and ao'nung was trying to keep spider airway open so he didn't drown on the blood pooling in his mouth. It hurt. He wanted it to end.

spider can see from just behind his mother, jake and neytiri in each others embrace watching with distant eye as he suffers the same fate as neteyam. it made him feel sorta guilty, but if jake was alive, the battle would live on, and his family had a chance at peace. 

more faces, voices rather, join the scene. he hears his dad, hears reyzi screaming, but she doesn't grow closer. quaritch was struggling to hold her back, begging through his own tears for her to calm, that she could see him, she just needed to be calm for her brother. ravi and ro'eyk are standing next to their adoptive dad, ravi leaning into his arm, seemingly numb, though his anger is boiling him alive, and he's one wrong move away from ripping his skin off and using it to strangle his brothers killer to death. ro'eyk is similar to his brother, the craze in his eyes multiplying by the second as he is forced to watch his baby brother bleed out.

its quaritch who approaches his greiving family first, tapping tonowari's shoulder, their eyes meeting. 

he's too far gone - both of their respective glances say, though neither can voice it. "there's no exit wound, the bleeding is in his lungs," tonowari says quietly, trying to avoid the children's ears "the bleeding is slow, but the damage is done. it won't be quick, but he won't make it back to camp either…" 

quaritch nods, he couldn’t think about how much time his boy had left, or more so, how little. he kneels next to his son, the siblings gathering at his sides. Reyzi takes her brother’s hand, trying to smile when he weakly squeezes back; Ravi nudges against ao’nung, the two had grown close, helping the other boy shift their brother to lay between them; ro’eyk clings close to his dad, one hand holding onto him, the other on spiders leg. 

The sounds are so intense, people speaking, crying, praying, begging. everyone’s moving around him, people are moving him, someones putting pressure on the wound and it hurts like hell. 

his eyes float around; first to his dad, he’s crying, fingers fiddling with the braid behind his ear, miles had put in himself, the beads he carved by hands, spider never took it out. then to his brother’s, seeing his 2 big brothers embracing eachother, ao’nung hiding his face into the crook of ravi’s neck, both boys desperately trying to stay strong, ro’eyk eyes were analyzing him, trying to find a solution, because he was never one to back down. Then it was his mother and father that he looked to, the pain in his mothers eyes as she prayed to Eywa, as she held onto his body as if to hold him there; he’d never seen his father so distraught, like all his strength and was gone, his face no longer holding a sense of calm, there was only pain and anger now. His sisters both held a sense of rage, one he was very familiar with, reyzi wasn’t afriad to turn her anger on the world, but tsireya? He can’t think of a time he’s ever seen her truly angry, let alone filled with wrath, and he feels sorry that his death will introduce to such a horrible feeling. he tries to focus on jake and neytiri, but end up falling on the sully kids, more tears forming in his eyes; he was leaving them again, he was leaving lo’ak alone, kiri without her person, tuk with one less big brother, again. his breaths come fast and he starts to shake as sobs force their way out of his broken body realizes they’re all here, they’re all going to watch him die. 

he's scared, he feels so alone, despite being surrounded by people, because his vision is going and he can barely feel or hear a thing. he just wants to be held, he doesn't care about the wound anymore, he just wants someone to make the cold and pain go away. 

he must have made some sort of noise, a sign of discomfort because the aching stopped; whoever had been putting pressure on the wound let up a little, then his dad is talking to him, leaning over him to speak into his ear, I love you, he says gently, trying to hide the shake in his voice, I love you so much, and spider wants to say it back, he wants to cling to his dad and beg him to make it stop, but he can only stare up at him, weakly nod his head, let the tears fall down his cheeks. He hates this, he hates it so much. 

He closes his eyes for just a second, trying to ease the tired ache in them, but then he hears his mother shriek, feels her hands on his face, my son, she cries over and over again, great mother please, please do not take him. He feels his gut churn as he remembers what neytiri had said the day she lost neteyam. He watches his father try to comfort her, but he knows it would be no use, nothing quells the pain of a mother’s grief. 

He tries to speak again, but chokes, and his chest burns with something awful, he feels his brothers tense beneath him, sobs coming from the younger of the two. He wants to tell her that its ok, to bring her comfort like she has for him the last few months, anything to bring her any amount of ease. Shhh, my child, it’s ok, don’t speak, his father comforts, not even attempting to hide his pain, only focusing on easing his child. Spider tries to not be angry, tries not to scream at the situation; he’s dying and he can’t even say goodbye to his family, can’t talk to them, his body won’t let him, they won’t let him try, it’s not fair. 

There’s movement at his side, his dad is leaving, he doesn’t want him to go. His eyes track him as he scoots behind his brothers, both like his sons in one way or another, wrapping an arm around both of them, ro’eyk joining there little group hug. Reyzi stays where she is, holding his hand, and the gap left by his dad and brother is filled by his mom, 2 of the strongest woman he has ever known embracing eachother like life lines. He’s really happy to see her, he just wishes she wasn’t crying. 

She doesn’t hesitate from kissing the top of his head, pressing her forehead against the mask, the gap between their faces made by the glass lets him see the anguish on her face. How’s my strong boy doing, she says, trying to smile, lighten the mood, despite the pain it causes her. He’d say he’s right as rain, just like she did, but he knew he couldn’t, didn’t think it was worth trying. So he did his best to push into her, to make his need for her comfort known, pulling a sob from his lips as he strained to be closer. She peppered any skin she could get to with kisses, knowing she couldn’t hug him or hold him as she wanted, not without hurting him even more. I’m so sorry, my little soldier, I’m so so sorry, she says to him, as she tries to figure ouu where to put her hands, settling them against the sides of his face. He doesn’t want her to be sorry, his choice is what got him here, her being there wouldn’t have stopped him. 

He hears ikran, assumes the other recoms had spotted the vigil from the skies. He’s pretty sure he heard his mom say something about them letting her go to her boy while they handled the remaining RDA soldiers who hadn’t given up. He saw all of them, all their ikran too, that was good, that meant his family was ok, all of them, that was good. 

Mansk and lyle had gotten close to the sully kids, lo’ak in particular, as kiri was more often too busy her own world to pay them any mind, and neytiri kept tuk close to her, so spider wasn’t surprised when he saw his brother break from jakes hold, running into mansk’s side, accepting lyles arm to hold onto as well. Kiri followed, now that she knew she could in fact wander from her parents grasp without getting pulled back, though she went to zdog instead of following her brother, sitting opposite to reyzi. Hey monkey boy, he wished she said it like she aways did, not in the sad defeated voice that she had. though one thing was the same as always, she had her hand over his heart; she said he was na’vi in his heart, that his body didn’t matter, that to eywa, he would be her child just as much as she and their siblings and the rest of their family were. 

The thought brought him comfort, that he would be with eywa soon, with the people his family had lost over the years. He didn’t want to trade out one for the other, and he definitely didn’t want to think about his family joining him, but there was some amount of peace easing his heart to calm, his breath to come a little slower. Part of him knew that shock was taking hold of him, but chose to let it happen rather then fight it, the calm eased his pain, the lack fo fear let his muscles relax. 

He could tell people were shifting again, which meant more goodbyes, more words he couldn’t understand, more tears. He thinks its jake at his side now, neytiri behind him, tuk somewhere in the mix (he can hear her voice, though he can’t see her). I’m so sorry kid, shouldn’t have been you, you should have let it happen… none of this should have happened… I’m sorry I didn’t apologize sooner. Hearing jake apologize was weird, he never expected one, part of him wanted to keep thinking he didn’t deserve one, cause it was easier to forget what his life used to be like, then to dwell on it. Then tuk was hugging his neck before he could even form a reaction to what jake had said, forcing him to change his chain of thought to her; she shouldn’t be here, not on a battlefield, not watching another brother die, he wanted to push her off, tell her to run and keeping running till she was free of the smoke and rubble. I don’t want yout to go, you already left once, why are you leaving again? She asks, and he has no answer. Why was she still here? 

Someone pulled her away and lo’ak took her place, he looked conflicted, and spider knew why; he didn’t want to regret his last words. Lo’ak was haunted by what he said to neteyam, he didn’t want to suffer that again. I see you, all of you, spider. You will always be my brother, always have been, and no matter what, there was never a moment I didn’t love you, even when I was angry and even if I didn’t act like it, I always love you Spi. even if it was hard, he hung onto every word, he could do that for his brother, after everything, he could do him the decency. He tried to quirk his lips up into a smile, hoping lo’ak would find comfort in it, but lo’ak only started to cry harder, hovering over him, why did you do that, you skawng, though he was probably attempting to scold him, there was no anger in his voice. 

Eventually his brother pulled away, squeezing his shoulder before he rejoined the recoms who were both silently mourning and keep watch over the vigil. they didn’t do goodbyes, so he wasn’t surprised or even disappointed, he almost liked it better this way. He knew they mourned him, knew they would die to avenge him, he didn’t need them to go out of there way to do something that would only bring him more pain. He doesn’t even think he would be able to understand them had they tried.

His last few moments are hazy, his pulse in his ears, and the tears in his eyes so thick he can just barely make out the beginning of eclipse. He knew he was in his father’s arms, he wasn’t talking, not words at least, spider almost thinks he might be humming; it's a song sung to mighty warriors when they fall, as a way to tell them they can rest, that war is over. He knows his mother is next to her mate, sleep now, my little miracle, she's crying, he can barely tell what she's saying, you were the greatest gift I could ever be given, thank you, for being my son, for every moment we shared. his eyes burned, she was thankful for him, when he should be thankful for her, it wasn't right. he was slipping, thinking about his mama took his  away from his focus on staying awake, and suddenly his dad was talking, I'll take care of her spi, don't worry, you go on now, everything will be alright here, his dad comforts, knowing spider is more worried about her than himself. his dad was across from his mother, the both of them holding his hands, their own hands over lapping. He knows zdog is next to him, whispering I love you, over and over again. 

his brother’s were at his head, he could feel someone tucked into his neck, another pressing their head against his, I love you, I love you so much my brother, don't- (you have have to let him go) I… I'm gonna miss you, I'm gonna miss you so much, ao'nung he thinks, then Ravi, then ao'nung again. Ravi was taking care of the younger boy. good, he thinks, his brothers won't be alone. His sisters are gathered at his feet, collapsing in on one another; reyzi’s stiff upright posture and cold, thousand yard stare sticking out eerily amongst his hazy recollection. Kiri looked… peaceful wasn't the right word, she looked like she accepted it, she had tsireya and tuk pulled into her sides, Reyzi was behind her, accepting no comfort; he was sure that if he could get his eyes to focus he would see her wringing her hands, pulling her fingers until they hurt. he wished she would be able to move on, he knew it wasn't possible, it wouldn't be possible for her or her brother's, no matter how well they were holding themselves in the moment. Lo'ak was pacing the stretch of land that acted as an opening to the aclove, he was cursing, punching at the rubble, he didn't deserve this, not again. 

he saw the recoms standing gaurd as well, someone was trying to keep Lo'ak from the rubble, earning a sharp jab to the ribs, which was redirected into in awkward hug of sorts, but he couldn't tell who it was anymore. 

he couldn't tell who anyone was, his vision had faded to much. he whimpered, felt the burn in his chest as a result. he felt like he was sinking away, like when you have the bad dream of falling into the abyss. he was scared, he was so scared, he didn't want to die. he tried to grip onto something, but he's not even sure he was moving, but he felt his bubble get tighter, he tired to remember be wasn't alone. 

the last thing he remembered was a choked cry, probably his mother, and then nothing.

then Neytiri, smiling at him sadly amidst of bright white. no, no it wasn't Neytiri… it was Neteyam, his big-little brother - spider was technically older him, by a little over a year, but aged slower, hense earning him the title of little- big brother and Neteyam the opposite - standing a few feet away from him. 

"I didn't expect to see you so soon." Neteyam talks in a way that is much older and much wiser then his age lets on, more so then he did in life. he keeps his smile, but his voice and eyes let on his sadness. 

"neither did I," spider makes no attempts to move or interact more than he needs to, not until he knows this ain't a trick of his dying mind

"why did you do it, you could have let dad take the hit, he had a better at surviving it," 

"I wasn't letting another person get shot in front of me." 

"It wasn’t your fault brother,” neteyam stepped forward, placing a hand on spiders cheek, wiping a tear he didn’t know was there. 

“Am I really dead?” he asks, wanting to accept that this was really the end, he needed this to be the end, because he couldn’t stay standing much longer. 

“Yes… I’m sor-” Neteyam tensed at the question, 

“No, no thats… that’s good, was just worried… worried I wasn’t gone yet and that my mind would start playing tricks on me.” he closed the gap, leaning into the taller figure, he was tired, he was so tired. “Please, ‘teyam, please tell me this is real.”

He felt himself being pulled down, surrounded in a ligth warmth, almost like a blanket of sand warmed by the light of the sun. he kept his eyes closed, unsure if he wanted to see the space around him, if he wanted to know what would be there. He just clung tight to his big-little brother and prayed The Great Mother showed him mercy. 

“Its’s real, I promise you it’s real, open your eyes.” 

When he did, because he trusted his brother, he was home, he was on a familiar beach, the beach his father would take him to, it was on the far side of the village, a place only really known by the chief and his family. 

“What is this place, spi, it’s the place The Great Mother thinks you should rest, tell me about it.”

“This is where tonowari told me I was his son… it was the family beach in a way… its where me and ao’nung would train and tsireya taught me the stories of our people, where mother taught me to heal. This is my home.” he was too caught up in the relief to think about how neteyam may feel about him considering someone else family. 

“You deserved more time with them, they were good to you,” he spoke softly, tracing his finges in the sand, “you were meant to be theirs, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re brothers. It’s ok spider, I’m happy that you were happy with them, you deserved that.”

“You saw?” 

“Everything, had to watch over you and my other skawng brother, ao’nung too, make sure you didn’t get into to much trouble; though it doesn’t seem I kept that from happening… I watched you all, you did good brother.” 

His stomach dropped. He knows, he knows what he did, why wasn’t he angry.

“I saved him… why aren’t you angry?” 

“Because you were right. You felt the good in him, you saved him, and then let him pick his path. You saved him, all of them, preserved life; thats the way of eywa. By saving him, you brought them all together… and evne if you didn’t, even if he didn’t change, he was your dad spi, he did better then our- my dad… you had every right to want to save him. I can’t judge you for that.” 

This felt wrong, something wasn’t right, there was no way this was going to be this easy. 

“I… I don’t understand.” 

“You will, it takes time.”

“Time?” 

“Eywa will show you what you need to know to find peace, sometimes you need to see what happens first. You were bound to kiri for a reason, you were bound to tonowari and ronal for a reaosn, you were bound to the recoms for a reason. She will show you, it just takes time.” 

Neteyam was holding him by the shoulders now, pulling him into a hug once more. Spider thinks he was crying. “You don’t understand yet, but I am so proud of you spider.”

That’s when spider cracked, he couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t stay strong. He crumbled in his brother’s arms, letting him hol all his pieces together. He falls apart into the sand, as his brother moves away from him.

“I have to go now, so do you,” his brother says distantly, spider only catching a glimpse of him before he disappears. 

Before he can even call out for him, he hears another voice, one much more ethereal, layered and consisting of many tones; “you have places to be, my child.”

“What?” he searches the beach for a source, but comes up with nothing. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” the voice shifts, sounding almost like his mother

“Mother?” 

“The Mother of mothers I suppose,” the voice was closer to what it had been before, though it kept its feminine pitch

“Eywa.” his voice was more a whisper then anything else, unsure of what should have been obvious. 

“Yes, my child,” a woman appeared, emerging from the forest that surrounded the beach, she looked like his mother, which made some sense. She could look like anything, different to each person, so of course she would take the form of the woman he loved and trusted the most in his life. 

“Where am I going?”

“You ask too many questions, always have,” she smiled, an airiness to her voice, almost like a laugh, “what do our people believe?” 

Oh. “Every person is born twice,” 

“That’s right little one,” the deity came closer, her ‘hand’ caressing his cheek.

He felt his heart begin to race, how that was possible considering he was dead, he didn’t know and didn’t care. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay with his family, with neteyam. He wanted to find the other’s, kiri’s mom, his mother’s spirit sisters, his ancestors; human, omatikaya, and metkayina alike. He’s so tired and just wants to stay here, just for a little.

“Don’t worry my child, you,” she points to his head, his mind, “will stay here, your soul,” she points to his chest, “will be reborn. You will rest, but your fire, courage, and loyalty will be given back to the world. You were born to be a great warrior, it is ingrained in you, and you fight for me and all of pandora with all of yourself and all of your strength. You will be sent back to finish what you began, to the end of the war. You will protect you’re family, and you will have my guidance to do so, that I promise.”

He was confused, unsure of how the whole ‘born twice’ thing worked logistically, but he knew better to argue with a mother, let alone The Mother. So he suppressed his weariness, his longing for his family, and accepting Eywa’s task. Little warrior, gift of Eywa. what were once terms of endearment now had meaning.

“Yes, Great Mother,”

“Your mother taught well, she is a good tsahik, her and your father, even the lost spirits that make up your dad, you call him and your mom,” hearing the Na’vi goddess use english words was so unnerving, and he found himself grinning a little harder then he should, and she grinned back in response, “they prepared you well, very well.”

“They did, I am forever greatful for them”

“Of course you are, you are a grateful child, your heart is larger then most, its what a great warrior, the respect you have for the enemy, even when you feel such immense hatred. It is what lead you to save him, what lead your siblings to him, what turned the tides of this battle. It is what made you protect the Toruk Makto, despite the battle he put you through so young. It is you’re heart that will live on…are you ready?” her words were so motherly, it sounded like a story he would hear from his mother, except it was no story, not yet, it was his life. 

“I think,” he was honest with her, he had no idea what was going to happen, and therefore could not honestly tell her if he was afraid or not.

“When your soul is sent back to your family, finding a place to be reborn where it is needed most, you will join your ancestors; you will watch with them, both your living family and your ancestors, you will learn to be a guide as they are and when your soul has returned to you, living its second life, you will be a guide as well. Do you understand my child?” she explained with care.

So that’s what his brother meant, he will see in time, learn what he most learn, be show what he must be shown. He would watch the remainder of his family’s lives, watch the war, watch the effects of his actions play out. He would watch his soul live on, finishing what he began. He would learn from his ancestors, everything he needed to know. Maybe he would learn from his Mother as well, he couldn’t assume this was the last he would be seeing of her. He felt ease wash over him, his Mother embracing him fully now. 

“You will be reborn to her, that I promise. Good luck little warrior.”

And with that the figure disappeared, he felt something leave him, more then just Eywa’s presence, and suddenly he was alone, still on the secluded beach. He had a feeling he had a lot to figure out, and that the tulkun calls in the distance were the calls of his first teacher, Roa.  

~~~

So a few things. The only people I’m sorry for right now are fictional. chest wounds under the right circumstances can be slow inevitable death sentences; I milked that for every ounce of angst I could (his death took at least 10-15 minutes of agony just for a little perspective for him and his family; they couldn’t do anything so they just had to watch him fade). Finally, the only explanation for why the siblings don’t go hog wild immediately (this explanation is for all of 3 people, you know who you are/pos) is because their civility is directly linked to spider. If they don’t stay calm, there will be no stopping them, and they didn’t want spider to see that; basically, the only way they stopped themselves from going ballistic, was to go numb, practically comatose, which will fuel their anger later.

I kept the dialogue limited to put the reader in spider perspective, he’s so out of it he can really only hear what's being said when he’s putting effort into it. Just because the dialogue isn’t mentioned doesn’t mean its happening, which is my nice way of saying; he’s being talked to the whole time, he just isn’t “hearing” it. This is the same for character focus, he’s only really able to pay attention to the activity around him, so characters are only really mentioned when they are actively interacting with him/are the main point of his focus. angst via writing style is my favorite flavor of angst I toiled with the ending of this for like 3 days, I don't love it love it, but I'm content with it. I have complicated feelings for how the spirit world works in canon (as far as we know) and how I want it to work, so we're just gonna take the mess that I created and enjoy it. also eywa is based on my interpretation of our world's 'true mother' who takes many forms and names in different mythologies; think, fun mom, who's crunchy in the cool fun way. like will drive her kid to the ER at 2 in the morning for running a fever, but will also slather them in essential oils the entire way there. is the cool mom that everyone loves and always wants to hang out with. like I didn't want her to seem overly untouchable, so I made her have a mild sense of humor. so enjoy that

#I nearly lost my mind writing this #I am not at all writing a characters death from their perspective #which considering how much angst I write is like hella surprising #avatar 2 #spider socorro #avatar the way of water #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #quaritch #avatar spider #spider avatar #spellman siblings #hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan #spider tonowari'itan #ronal #tonowari #ao'nung #tsireya #kiri sully #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully #tuk sully #sully family #jake sully #neytiri #recom squad #corporal wainfleet #recom wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #prager

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semi-Conscious Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV, Alternate Universe Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet (pre-relationship), Coeli Qoet Triggers/Content warnings: n/a

In the cramped confines of the airship's engine room, he waits.

When should he leave, Guydelot wonders - now? He'd heard Sanson and Mogta talking only a moment ago, drifting away. Where are they, even? Somewhere in the Sea of Clouds, Moglin said; vague as all hells. It'd taken a miracle to get back to Gridania and sneak on board the Adders' airship; if the bloke guarding it hadn't owed Guydelot a favor or five, he never would've managed. It'd taken some quick thinking and even quicker talking: he was a member of this mission, after all; that's on record, and he knew Sanson'd be along shortly with the orders.

For all that, now that he's here...

What do I even say?

Sweat rolls down the back of his neck, and he doesn't think it's just the heat of the engine. It's not like him, this hesitation. Not like him, either, to linger like he had in Tailfeather. Normally, when he decides he's damned well done with a situation, he takes his leave - and he stays gone. He'd stormed away from Sanson fully intending to head back to Gridania and wash his hands of the whole mess; let the prissy little prig chase his Ballad of Oblivion to the ends of the world for all he cares.

Or so he'd thought. But he'd lingered, he'd hesitated, coming up with every reason to give it another day...

So what're you gonna say, then, he asks himself, hands curling into fists in frustration at his own hesitation. What is he waiting for? The perfect words? He's a bard; he knows damn well the right words aren't gonna just fall into his lap. And they sure as hells aren't gonna come to him here, are they?

He clambers outside at last, sucking in a breath at the frigid skybound air, a bracing contrast to the engine room. No need to wonder where Sanson'd gone: there's only one path. Guydelot walks slowly, thoughts still churning through his mind. What would Sanson say when he came strolling up?

Does he even dare hope Sanson is just as tormented over all of this as he is? Coeli sure seemed to think so, and then there's the journal burning a hole in Guydelot's satchel... notes on song, sure. And notes, pages of them, of all the things... all the things he wanted to tell Guydelot about, when they meet again.

And isn't that something?

Isn't that-

Fighting, he realizes, his archer's instincts finally winning out over his heart's twisting and turning. He's hearing the sounds of battle.

He's left it too late, he's waited too long.

Damn it all, and damn me, too, he thinks, drawing and stringing his bow; if he hurries, he can still be of some use against... against whatever it is they've found here; whatever beast guards Sanson's Ballad.

It's not a long run, but it's long enough.

He gets there in time to watch Coeli put a last desperate arrow into the red-feathered siren, before the viera crumples to the ground in exhaustion. The siren herself gets out one last ear-searing shriek before she bursts into a seething cloud of aether... which is then drawn back into an innocuous-looking stone monument, evidently from whence it came. Guydelot stands helpless, useless, bow in hand, observing the carnage.

Coeli's wounds don't look bad: she's simply been sapped of all energy by the siren's... song. She opens her blue eyes long enough to notice him, but lacks even the stamina to look surprised - if indeed she is. Her gaze leaves him, traveling toward something lying in the tall grass: something yellow. Something yellow and very, very red.

The bow falls from Guydelot's hands as he runs, unthinking.

Sanson.

He'd taken the brunt of the battle himself; of course he had. His lance is red with the creature's blood, but for every blow he landed, it seems he must've taken three - Sanson Smyth is a mess, and no mistake. Guydelot sinks to the ground beside him, fearing the worst. Part of him flinches away from the idea of even checking for a pulse - if he leaves now, if he runs away again, he can tell himself pretty lies about how the last time he'd seen Sanson, the man had been alive and well...

And maybe if I'd been fast enough, he still would be.

Gritting his teeth, he yanks off a glove and rests his hand on Sanson's throat.

Only for the man himself to flinch under Guydelot's touch.

"G..." Those too-blue eyes flutter open. Barely. Confusion mingles with pain. "Guydelot...? What are you...?"

It goes through him like a knife, and all Guydelot can think about is the thousand times his commanders have reprimanded him as a good-for-nothing, a layabout; a sorry waste of a talented archer. All talent, no discipline; that's Guydelot the Spent! Never where he needed to be! Always had somewhere better to be; always had something better to be doing than following godsdamned orders! And now here he was, the perfect chance to prove to himself - to Sanson - that he was worth a damn, and-

"You... you came," Sanson breathes, wonderment in his eyes, teetering on the edge of consciousness. "I... th-thought.."

He forces himself to speak. He's got nothing better to do. "Too late. I'm sorry, Sanson; I thought I'd..." What? Help? He hadn't known what he meant to say or do. He still doesn't.

He watches Sanson drift. There's a rustle in the grass: Coeli, inching closer. She's learned some healing tricks; thank the Matron for small miracles.

An absence occurs to him. "Mogta?"

She glances at him as she works, weaving aether into mending Sanson's many wounds. "Sanson tried to send us both away," she says, quietly. "Mogta is flying to the encampment of the Vanu Vanu, to seek aid."

He nods, subdued but relieved; he'd feared, for a moment, that his reluctance had cost the moogle bard his life.

It may yet cost Sanson his.

He tried to send them both away, he thinks, heart sinking like a stone: fighting the creature alone would've been suicide, and Sanson's seasoned enough to know it. Why? Why throw away his life on a futile battle, when there was nothing to be gained by-

"It... it never existed."

Sanson's voice again, hazy. Barely conscious at all, speaking as though in a dream. On an impulse he doesn't want to examine too closely, Guydelot takes one of the man's hands. Sanson's eyelids flutter, and his fingers twitch in Guydelot's.

"It was all just... some story, mistold or mis... misremembered," Sanson mumbles, despair in his voice. "An entire tribe... of moogles... she... and the Ballad..."

"Sanson," Guydelot says, uncertain. "You ought to rest. Let Coeli patch you up. We can talk later."

"No," Sanson says, abruptly, squeezing his hand. "No. I need... I was wrong, Guydelot, I was wrong about... about everything-"

"Well, you can be as wrong as you like after you're healed up-"

"I was wrong about you-"

Gods, I can't do this now, Sanson; don't do this to me now! "You're full of holes and barely awake, Sanson the Stiff," he snaps. "There's not a thing you can say now that won't keep for a bell or two. It's waited this long."

Whether the rebuke exhausts him or his wounds claim him, it serves to drop Sanson fully into unconsciousness, which Guydelot's willing to count as a miracle and a reprieve. He takes a shuddering breath, and with only one or two false starts, manages to begin singing a song to augment Coeli's healing: Sanson needs all the help he can get.

He pretends not to feel Coeli's too-knowing gaze on him as he sings.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday12 #my writing #sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #coeli qoet #today's offering is an au: what if guydelot showed up late to the siren fight

[thetismcave]

Another dramatic drabble with some more headcanons

Session 7 spoilers :)

It really is an apocalypse, Scott thought, watching the carnage from atop the cliffs.

The world had gone mad. The plateau below was splattered with blood, and death was spreading like an infection through the ranks of the players.

He was hiding in his own base, from his own teammates. Maybe it was stupid to keep hanging around, but he knew this place well, and he was pretty sure they didn’t think he’d come back. He’d nearly been killed getting chased out by his own teammate, for fucks sake.

He’d gone to ground after that, but he knew that without info he was a sitting duck. So, here he was, on one of his increasingly rare ventures to the surface, crouching in a tree and watching the grasslands below.

When Cleo dug through their wall, he couldn’t help but be relieved. His instinctive reaction was affirmed when they, treading just as lightly as he was, showed no signs of hostility or of alerting the hunters.

“Hi,” he grinned at her.

“Hi, hi!” They replied, a stressed little laugh in their voice as they creeped through the new opening.

“What’s happening? Why is there a Warden now?” Scott asked softly as she filled in the wall behind herself.

“They’re trying to get me,” she grimaced, easing into a crouch beside him, sheltered under the trees. “As the last- the last green.”

Scott hummed a tense reply, leaning against the rough bark of the oak, slowly creeping further into his- the base.

“Gem also has no band loyalty anymore,” he said nonchalantly, not looking at Cleo, “Because she died, came back as a red, and tried to kill me. So, I had to flee. I’ve been skulking around my own base all day.”

He said it offhandedly, like it was just another anecdote. Like it was an interesting tidbit instead of a near deadly betrayal.

He knew they could see right through him.

She knew what was genuinely laidback and what was a coverup. She knew how much he hated this, how deeply his loyalty ran.

“Widow’s Alliance?” She offered, holding out her arm. The shifting moonlight hit a tattoo, a blue rope winding down the inside of her wrist, its end frayed and orange. He’d known it was there. It’s partner was on his arm, after all. He could barely see his own now, however. The lava from his latest capital ‘D’ Death had burned away most of the skin on his arms. It was there though, the orange strands twisting along his forearm, just a little buried by scar tissue.

(The care was still there too, even though at the start they’d promised to go their separate ways. Even though their bond had been tried by nearly five of these damned games.)

If there was one constant in this mess, it was Cleo, and he could really use a damn anchor right now. He trusted her, and he hoped the feeling was mutual.

“I guess so.” He took her forearm, and the frayed ends of their ties met.

Later, after they joined up with BigB, the infected began closing in again. As they took shelter behind the walls, Scott let the other two know about his makeshift bunker, the one not even his teammates knew about.

“You know me, I’m not gonna go after you.” Cleo said, casually, as if it was a given, a law of nature that he could show her his secrets, his backup plans, without fear. And really, it was, wasn’t it? Even if Cleo didn’t have clear memories of the games before, they knew, somehow, that they could put their back to his and be defended.

He’d wondered sometimes if Cleo, ever the survivor, trusted him as implicitly as he trusted them. As they descended into the mines, he realized that now he knew. Even if neither of them realized it, they were each other’s safety net, a soft place to fall that went beyond alliances, or games, or even memories.

And even though they were being hunted, even though the rest of the world was baying for their blood, Scott felt, impossibly, like they could weather anything this apocalypse could throw at them.

#life series #scott smajor #fanfiction #secret life #zombiecleo #dangthatsalongname #smajor1995 #Tal writes #they got the tattoos after double life :) #platonic soulmates who defy fate itself for each other <3 #a sort of sequel to the other drabble? #and ig it could technically be part of an au??

[yanderes-galore]

This is regular request for Springtrap (fnaf3) — A -1; B - 2 (because like imagine if he’d force darling to do this - the smell… 🥴) and C-2. Thank you, very much, if you’ll do this… we had some “super” gore with Funtime Freddy, so why not something with Springs? Hehe.

Oh you want gore, do you? Remember you asked for it ;) Heavily implied to be animatronic due to the nature of the fic but android works too if that's to your taste!

I am so sorry that it's just as bad as the Fluffy AU! Funtime Freddy one-

Prompts Found Here!

Yandere! Springtrap Prompts A-1, B-2, C-2

A-1: "I want to know how you'll taste between my teeth."

B-2: "We won't stop until you're so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again."

C-2: "Don't complain now- you did this to yourself."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Gore, Blood, Vomit, Torture, Implied biting, Blood loss, Springlock failure, Death, Sadism, Fair warning this is just meant to be disgusting and horrific, if you HATE vomit, blood, and gorey descriptions then avoid this one, Just meant for the gore fans with a strong stomach.

"I want to know how you'll taste between my teeth."

Blood pools from the wound on your body. Mechanical, rotting, teeth were stained in your blood. The crimson stain on the snout of the rabbit matching the much drier ones on it.

You hack and wheeze, vomit dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. You choke, the stench of your own vomit and the smell from the rabbit shaking you to the core. You couldn't move, both from your nausea and pain.

There was no strength to cry. Only to shake in front of the bot towering over you. One that was covered in blood and reaking of corpses.

It was as if death himself was standing before you. Eyes a decaying silver, staring at you as if you were prey. Based on the wound on you, such a thought was not too far off.

"Aw, come on. That bite wasn't too bad! I was just getting started."

You quake on the floor, scurrying from your own mess. A vile concoction of your suffering... all due to a certain tormentor. You doubted you'd be out of here in one piece by the end of this.

"It's so nice to have a soul other than the phantoms to talk to. You have brought me great company since you took this job, dear...!"

He never leaves his spot from the hall. The same hall he chased you down before lunging at you with the intent of carnage. Now here you lay, pathetic and bleeding.

Your body lurches forward when he threatens to step closer. Your stomach still unable to endure the smell of a 30 year old corpse. Springtrap laughs at your reaction.

"That's what being dead for 30 years does to you. You reek to high heaven. Gonna be sick again?"

As if reading you like a book, you crumple on the ground and release what little bile you have left. It was all too much. You needed this job for money.

Instead? You get a haunted rabbit craving torture.

You barely have time to register him pulling you up from the floor. At this point your senses are so dead you can't entirely process the smell. Only those blurry dead eyes... your vision failing you.

"We won't stop until you're so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again."

He laughs at his own statement.

"Not like anyone will even bother. You'll be dead before you exit this horror house! In fact... you won't be leaving at all."

Your body's going numb to blood loss. Springtrap shifts himself to hold you in a different position. You then hear something click faintly.

"They won't ever find you if I keep you in this rotting hell with me. Then you won't have anywhere to go. It'll just be you, me, and those dreaded phantoms."

You weakly struggle when he gets things ready. Some way or another, he'll shove you into the bot he calls a coffin. All before releasing the springlocks in the old and withered suit....

"Don't complain now- you did this to yourself."

Once you're fit snugly in the greenish suit, senses shutting down, your fate is sealed. The rabbit laughs distorted cackle like this is the best joke he's ever heard before you hear more clicking. A timer before your eventual doom....

"Welcome to your own personal hell, sweetheart..."

The rabbit cooes before jolting.

"I, William Afton, will be your tormentor for eternity."

With that, a wet sickening snap rings out in the hallways. Blood pools on the floor, mixing with your previous fluids. The pain was there, but you didn't register it for long.

No one would ever hear your screams....

#yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 3 #yandere five nights at freddys #yandere springtrap #yandere spring bonnie #yandere william afton

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage - Chapter 5 (Juice x OC Fic)

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

A/N: Chapter 5 is here. Sorry if this isn't the best - I wanted to get it uploaded and haven't had a lot of time to edit. More Juice and Ronnie 1 on 1 time is coming I promise!

Word Count: 2774 words

Ronnie shakily brought the glass of water up to her lips that Jax had bought over to her. Taking a large gulp, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. She could hear the men in the room beginning to speak, trying to piece together what was happening. "Who's Mark?" Tig asked. Ronnie only shook her head, her tongue a dead weight in her mouth. "Her piece of shit ex," Opie explained for her. "Used to smack her around. He's the reason she left Charming." Piney's grip on his daughters shoulder tightened. "And why is this jerk off still breathing?" Tig continued. "Because…" Ronnie exhaled. "He's a low level drug dealing shit stain, but he's not worth going to jail for murder over." Ronnie stood abruptly, beginning to pace. Opie, Piney and Jax all began protesting and arguing over what should be done, but she ignored them and rested her hands on the edge of the bar. A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She turned to find Tig looking down at her with a soft smile on his face. "Hey Tiggy," she smiled, her eyes still glassy. "Didn’t even know you were back, kid," he said, and pulled her into a brief, one-armed embrace. "Didn’t want it to be a big thing," Ronnie shrugged. "Now you know why."

"I want someone on Ronnie's house," Ronnie heard Piney say, his gruff voice sounding over the fray. "No dad," Ronnie began. "I don't want to take anyone from the club. I can handle my shit, he just freaked me out." Piney shook his head, Opie agreeing with him. "He doesn’t even know where I live," she continued. "Wouldn’t be hard for him to find out," Jax said. Piney looked to where Clay was sitting. Clay shrugged. "I don't got the numbers at the moment. I can give you the Prospect." Piney growled, adjusting the cannula in his nose. "Not happening," he chided. "Seriously it's fine, pops. Look, I'm sorry to burst in like this, Clay," Ronnie turned to the President. Clay waved a hand in her direction. "All good, kid. You’re family," he shrugged. Ronnie smiled flatly and made her way out of the clubhouse, Piney and Opie following her.

"Dad's right," Opie began. "You should have someone stay with you." Ronnie whirled around to face her brother. "You're really giving me whiplash here, Ope," she threw her arms out in exasperation. "Last time we talked you nearly ripped my head off, and didn't want me anywhere near the club." Opie scoffed and folded his arms. "Those were different circumstances. And you’re my little sister Ronnie," he reached out to mess with her hair, Ronnie pushing his arm off and glaring at him. "No matter how pissed I am at you, I'll always worry about you." Ronnie sighed and shook her head. "You heard Clay. He doesn't have the numbers, so…". "I'll stay with you," Piney said. "I'm not called up for much action these days anyway. Go and let, Clay know," he said to Opie. "I don't have a spare room dad," Ronnie attested. "Not gonna be sleeping," Piney grumbled, and walked towards his bike. "Stubborn old man," Ronnie shook her head and walked to her car.

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

Ronnie smiled as she handed out bowls of chili to buyers. Much to her disdain, Clay had told Gemma about the Mark incident and Gemma had insisted that when she wasn't working at the hospital or at home with Piney, that she should stay close to the club to make sure she was safe. That was how she was wrangled into helping Gemma at the Taste of Charming fundraiser. She didn’t mind helping out, but shovelling out chili and making small talk with people who claimed to remember Ronnie when she was a child - but she had no recollection of them - was becoming monotonous. She had seen Jax briefly and would look over to where Bobby was entertaining kids with his Elvis act to break up the routine but even that was becoming dull. Casting her eye out over the crowd, she spotted her brother, sister-in-law and niece and nephew. "Hey Gem," she called over her shoulder. Gemma turned from the pot of chili she was stirring. "Yeah, baby?" "You mind if I go hang out with Ope's family for a bit?" Gemma smiled and patted her cheek lightly. "Sure, sweetheart."

Ronnie made her way across the throng of people, stopping where Opie and Donna were sat watching the egg toss. "Hey," she said awkwardly. Opie and Donna turned to her. Donna smiled grimly, but didn't say anything. Ronnie refrained from rolling her eyes. "Hey Ron," Opie greeted. "Everything ok?" Ronnie nodded her head. "Yeah all good. Although I think Gemma is being more protective now than dad." Opie huffed and smiled. "Yeah well, you were always the daughter she never had." Donna watched the conversation between the siblings with a frown on her face. "The kids off playing?" Ronnie asked. "You here to try and buy their favour again?" Donna questioned. Ronnie remained impassive, ignoring Donna's jab. "Donna," Opie wearily said. "We spoke about this. Drop it." Ronnie's eyebrows raised at her brothers intercept. Was he finally coming around?

"I'll be right back," Opie suddenly said, making a beeline towards an old indoor gym. "Oh," Ronnie looked between her brother and Donna awkwardly. Left alone with her sister-in-law, Ronnie shuffled from one foot to another, cracking her knuckles. "Donna," she began. "I know you seem to really not like me, but know that I'm serious when I say that I am trying to make things up to Opie. I know I can't replace the last decade. But I don’t want to waste any time from now on. Opie seems to understand that. I hope you can to." Donna only looked at Ronnie for a moment, before turning back to watch Ellie play with her friends. Ronnie sighed and made her way back to the chili tent.

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

Juice rubbed at his neck where Clay had grabbed him. He'd been longing to get home from Nevada after the week away and now he felt like he'd really fucked things up by bringing Cherry with him. Pulling his phone out of his cut he woke it up, hoping to find a missed call or text from Ronnie. She had tried him a few times since the situation with Piney had gone down but over the past two days it seemed she had given up. The thought made his stomach turn to lead. He wasn't meaning to stonewall her, he just didn’t know what to say. The whole situation was messed up, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone's feelings. But these few days away and not hearing from her had shown him that he wasn't done with her yet. Their kiss was on his mind any time he was on his own, the memory of her lips against his, the way her hands slid across his skin, her scent. He never went near any croweaters, even when they offered the most lewd things he had ever heard. He just couldn’t get this girl out of his head. Pulling up her contact he sighed and pressed dial. Pulling the phone to his hear, he waited as it rang, his stomach roiling. After the fifth ring he was ready to hang up but then he heard her.

"Juice?" His pulse picked up. "Hey, Ronnie," he smiled, scratching at his jaw. "I thought you might have been finished with me," she admitted, and Juice could hear her caution through the phone. He rolled his lips into a line and shook his head. "Nah, I don't think I'm done yet," he said. He heard her sigh in relief. "I'm so sorry, Juice seriously. I wasn't trying to hide it from you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to tell you about my family. I know whatever this is, is casual but I never wanted to make things awkward for you." "Yeah, I know," he replied. "It's all good. I don’t want to stop hanging with you, but maybe we can take things slow? Be friends at first or something…" he gulped. Ronnie laughed through the phone. "I mean yeah, I would like that," she said, sending relief flooding through Juice. "It's not that I'm not into you, cause I am really into you, trust me. I just really respect your dad and brother so I don’t wanna be on their bad sides ya know. This club is kinda all I got," he admitted. "It's fine, Juice," she assured him. "I get it, seriously. So, friends then?" He smiled, his spirits lifting for the first time all week. "Yeah Ronnie. Friends."

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

The next day, Ronnie walked from her kitchen to the living room where Piney was sat on her couch, his shotgun placed on her coffee table. Handing him a cup of coffee, she perched on the couch next to him. "The guns a bit of overkill, don't ya think pops?" she asked, sipping on her own drink. Piney raised an eyebrow and surveyed the room. "Are you not armed?" he asked. Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Of course I am, dad. I just don't have them out on display today." The old man grumbled and turned back to the television. The sound of a Harley rang down Ronnie's street, making her an Piney glance at each other curiously. When the bike cut out in front of her house, Ronnie stood and walked to look out the peephole. "It's Opie," she muttered, watching her brother walk up the path to her door. She pulled it open when he got close. "Ope? Everything ok?" she asked. "Pops needs to come down to the clubhouse. You too," he informed them. Piney stood and made his way over to his children. "What's wrong?" he hesitated. "You need to lay low. ATF are sniffing around after what went down with Nate yesterday. You and me are going to the cabin. Dropping Ronnie off at the clubhouse on the way," Opie clarified. "Wait what? Why?" Ronnie asked, crossing her arms. "Because dad isn't here to watch out for you," Opie said, annoyed . "Ok fine, but can't I drive myself?" she asked. "No time, you can ride with me," Opie said, already turning around and making his way back to his bike. "That doesn’t even make sense," Ronnie mumbled under her breath as she turned to lock her front door.

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

Ronnie's knuckles were white as she gripped the back of her brothers bike tightly. They pulled into TM and as soon as the bike was turned off she ripped herself out of the seat, jamming the helmet into her brothers chest. "I hate those things," she pointed at his bike before she began to stalk towards the clubhouse. She had seen enough MVAs involving bikes to not want to go near them. She slowed down when she saw Juice sitting at one of the tables near the boxing ring. "Hey Juicy," she called out, making him look up from his phone. He grinned brightly at her, sending her blood scorching through her veins. "Hey, Ronnie," he stood and made his way over to her. He began to reach out to grab her hand but stopped himself short when Opie trailed after her. He sent Juice a withering glare and Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Chill out, Ope. I'm allowed to have friends." Opie ignored his sister, turning when Piney caught up with them. "How long do I have to stay here?" Ronnie asked, miffed about how her morning was shaping out. "I'll stay with dad until tonight, and then I'll come get you. You can stay at my place for the night and we reassess tomorrow," Opie explained.

Ronnie scoffed. "No way. I am not staying at your place while your wife still hates me." Opie rolled his eyes. "Donna will be civil. And you have no choice." "Actually, I do have a choice," Ronnie remarked. When she didn’t elaborate Opie gestured for her to continue. "Juice can be on watch at my house," she stated. Juice whipped his head in her direction, his eyes wide. "Wait, what?" he asked at the same time Opie barked "not happening". Ronnie huffed and looked towards Piney, hoping he would step in and help her out. He shrugged. "Clay got you doing anything?" he asked Juice. Opie sneered. "You've got to be kidding me." Juice just shook his head, answering the old man. "Not at the moment. I'm free as far as I know." Piney shrugged and looked at Opie. "Let her go home. She's got protection." Ronnie stepped up to her dad and hugged him. "Thanks dad," she kissed his rough cheek and Piney smiled down at her. Juice felt like he was intruding so he walked to his bike, grabbing out the spare helmet and starting it up. "Relax Opie. He's just doing it for you guys. That's all this is." She turned and made her way to Juice. Opie watched as his sister put the helmet on and climbed on behind Juice, his annoyance intensifying when she wrapped her hands around his waist. "You sure about this?" he asked his father. Piney just shrugged. "Can't tell her what to do. Only gonna push her away. I don't know about you but I'm not losing her again."

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

Ronnie grinned at Juice as she took the helmet off, handing it over to him. The ride back to her house had been the most enjoyment she had ever felt on the back of a bike. Her anxiety about the danger completely melting away. The way it felt to have Juice between her thighs, her arms wrapped around his waist and her face pressed against his cut. When they were pulled up at a set of lights he had dropped one hand from the handlebars and gripped her knee briefly, his thumb running over the denim of her jeans. She didn’t know how she was going to go with this friends business when all she wanted to do was have him close again. Opening the door, she let him into her house, trying not to think about the position they had been in last time he was there. "Can I use your bathroom real quick?" Juice asked. "Yeah, sure. Up the hall, second door on your left," she told him. Ronnie made her way to the kitchen, scanning the fridge and pantry to see what she could offer to make them for lunch. She stood up quickly when she heard a sharp knock on her door. Peering down the hallway she saw the bathroom was still occupied and wondered who could possibly be paying her visit now.

Opening the door she was shocked to find a woman smartly dressed with sandy brown hair and an ATF jacket standing at her door with a smirk on her face. "Um, can I help you?" Ronnie asked. "Veronica Wilson?" the woman questioned. "Who wants to know?" Ronnie countered. The woman smirked again, looking down her nose at Ronnie. "Veronica, I'm Agent June Stahl, ATF. I'm here to question you about your fathers whereabouts. Do you know the current location of Piermont Winston?" Ronnie just shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. "I have no idea, I haven’t seen him in a couple of days," she shrugged. Stahl hummed, narrowing her eyes. "And are you aware of the activities undertaken by the outlaw motorcycle club that your father and brother are currently members of? Any illegal interests you may be privy to or aware of that you could make known to us?" Ronnie raised a brow and crossed her arms. "As far as I'm aware the whole bike and club thing are a hobby for them. That's all. Nothing illegal," she attested. Stahl smiled and nodded her head. "Sure. That's why your brother just got out of prison for a botched arson attempt, right? Had nothing to do with the club, did it?" she pushed. Ronnie huffed. "Listen, Agent Stahl, the only connection I have to that club is my last name. You're barking up the wrong tree." Stahl's eyes strayed from Ronnie and landed on something behind her, narrowing. Ronnie turned and saw Juice standing a couple of feet behind her. His jaw was set, but his eyes were on her, filled with worry. She smiled sheepishly and turned to Stahl. "Just your last name, huh?" Stahl mocked. She put her glasses on and turned to leave before looking back over her shoulder. "Reach out if you hear from your father, Veronica."

#soa #sons of anarchy #juice soa #juan carlos juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz x oc #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction

[slasher-male-wife]

hi, ive been stalking ur blog recently since there is a painful lack of male readers when it comes to thomas hewitt/bubba sawyer so i am here and requesting :3

maybe some headcanons about a malewife s/o for thomas and bubba,, like he cooks with whoever is tasked with dinner n cleans and does laundry, the whole nine yards, even helping clean up messes after thomas/bubba is done with victims (maybe even helping when some victims escape)

thank you if you do end up writing this!! have a great day/night!! :D

Really about to put the malewife in my name to good use. I might write a fic based on this idea later but for now here's some head cannons.

Thomas Hewitt and Bubba Sawyer with a male wife

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia, murder and cannibalism

Thomas Hewitt

Hoyt and Monty are going to be huge assholes about you being a male wife. Constantly telling you “real men don’t do this” “real men don’t do that” whatever. They might call you a fairy or something like that but that’s as far as they go because they know who’s side Thomas is on.

Luda Mae is happy to have another helping hand with chores. They get done twice as fast and she gets down time too. It’s also nice to have a younger, stronger person helping out too.

She’ll make you some clothes if you don’t know how to make your own and will use “the good fabric” because she likes you a lot.

Thomas is head over heels for you. A handsome man who also cooks, cleans, helps around the house and loves him? He’s all for it. He’s hesitant to have you help clean up the basement but when he sees you cleaning up the carnage from someone getting bashed in the head in the living room he’s less worried.

If you’re good with getting blood stains out of clothes you’re in charge of laundry from now on. Once a week you���ll go into the basement to help clean up the mess.

There’s a learning curve when learning to cook human meat but you’ll pick it up soon enough don’t worry Y/n.

If you actually kill someone everyone is a bit surprise. They thought because of how domestic you are that you’d never kill someone. The comments from Hoyt and Monty will stop and they’ll push you to kill more people if you’re good at it.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Hoyt and Monty the twins will constantly comment on how you’re “doing a women’s job” or “being a queer” but Drayton will have them cut it out because finally someone is helping around the house.

Bubba was the one who did the more domestic jobs like cleaning and laundry so finally getting help is really nice. He’s happy to have someone help him clean.

I'm pretty sure you're just gonna have to take over for Bubba because now that you're here Drayton's gonna have Bubba work on other things in the house.

Bubba loves knowing that he's not the only feminine man out there and that he can be a man and enjoy cooking, cleaning and doing household work too.

Will defend you from his brothers if they get too mean to you. Also please defend him. I feel like Bubba gives me "He's my girlfriend!" Energy.

Drayton will love another helping hand with cooking too. He will teach you how to cook the meat properly and probably ask you to make other things like bread.

Bubba's gonna take a bit to get used to seeing you cleaning up blood and guts. I feel like eventually he'll teach you how to cut the meat but until then you're not watching him kill people.

But if/when you do kill someone they're all a bit surprised at that. They'll really see you as a Sawyer now.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer x y/n #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader

[ancientskewers]

Is there a reason cinnamon is the only scav that cares about arti? Or were they like: hmmm yes I shall befriend the demon that wiped out 80% of the population.

Well here's my theory that I came up with in the shower.

(oh boy here we go)

Cinnamon was getting back to their shelter as the cycle was 5 ticks away from ending, it noticed a red slugcat running away from scavs with their pups, one got skewered and the other drowned. Just another day cinnamon thought, but a few cycles later it saw the corpses of those scavs. And cinnamon realized the carnage to come. Cinnamon found themself withing LTTMs structure where it lied and waited for the next few cycles. Eventually they came back and found what had happened.

The reason cinnamon is the only one that cares about arti is because they are the only scav that knows what happened. To the other scabs arti was a sadist who attacked without reason. But cinnamon knows. He knows everything that occured.

So is my goofy little theory correct or did I just throw one of the most insane ideas at you at 1000 mph that your gonna make it canon?

holy moly you guys are really interested in cinnamons lore huh

you are somewhat caught up lol probably majority actually

they were one of the scavengers of the toll patrol that arti ran away from with her pups . while the others chased them down , he was the only one that didnt want to engage . he was only expecting the scavengers to atleast scare them off , but seeing one them impale an infant without a clear conscience was something that hasnt left his mind since

he couldnt process what he saw , like at all . cinnamon was somewhat , different than most scavengers . he liked pearls , but not as much to kill somebody for it . if somebody were to steal one , he'd probably chase them down until to give it back ; not necessarily have the gut to kill somebody for it .

cinnamon tried to isolate themselves from tolls after a few cycles since the ideal of a child getting killed was not a very pleasant thing to remember--- especially since slugpups are not like most creatures or animals . once you lose them , theyre gone for GOOD .

cinnamon met arti again after witnessing his tribe get killed , and they were the only ones that got away . he remembered that slugcat--- the color , the eyes , the appearance in general . he knew what was coming . the scavengers bit first , and artificer was coming to bite back harder . cinnamon was loyal , very faithful and trust worthy even to the elites .

theyve met the third time during the battle of the chieftain , as it made their call for other scavengers to sabotage arti during the battle . he knew he stood no chance towards the beast and so he backed down too . shes nobody to mess with , especially with the obvious wrath in her eyes . he was there when she killed their king--- and he was there when they saw her slaughter his kind once more

arti noticed him for a while , and he recognized them from the first time theyve met at the toll--- she couldve killed him there , yet something stopped her from doing so.

cinnamon understood , as actions spoke louder than words . arti is somebody who was struggling . he saw the anguish , and sadness through her eyes . cinnamon couldnt forgive her for what shes done , but he wanted to show that he cared . he understood her frustration and hate , and he couldnt bare to just keep her living with the same anguish . which is why cinnamon is so loyal to her , he wants her to recover as much as she can so atleast she has some hope that somebodys actually there--- even though sometimes she wants him dead

#rain world #rw artificer #rw scavenger #ancients letterbox #wow i mustve graduated with a degree of yapanese in yapping school located in yappington #come to think that cinnamon started off as a joke character because of the dishwasher thing now theres multiple asks wondering about him #thats crazy

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Duke

I'm gonna be trying something different going forward for a while: i've just gone back and re-looked at a lot of fics and there are ones that don't quite feel done after I've made the oneshots two-shots, etc.

so i'm gonna be going back and adding a bit more to some of the stories you already know and love (hopefully love, at least tolerate)

so! expect to revisit some familiar stories for the next few weeks.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: blood, gang violence, touch starvation

Pairings: dukeceit

Word Count: 3267

Remus’s side of the story.

With the fighting done, Remus turned to look at the Serpent instinctively for his approval. The Serpent sauntered closer, hands in pockets, a tiger's prowl. Remus's breath turned quick and shallow.

The Serpent paused close by, only returning his look then. One hand emerged from the pocket and up to Remus's lips, smudging away a speck of blood.

"Got something there." The Serpent, despite the carnage, was pristine. "Good job. Do try and keep the blood off my carpet next time though, hm?"

Remus just nodded. The Serpent flicked their gaze to the carpet, the bodies, and Remus's own clothes in a silent 'get to it, then.'

He did.

He learned. It wasn't what he'd expected and it was exactly what he expected. It was grueling and punishing and thankless and it was lonely and isolating and cold.

You can guess which was which.

He did not and never did expect tenderness from the Serpent. Tenderness was a trap for prisoners and hostages. Remus had been hired to do a job, not to be a companion, not to be treated as such. He did not expect it. He would not expect it.

That didn't mean he didn't feel its absence cleanly.

Even the smallest of things, the moments snatched in between the passes of the security camera, when it was just them in the dark and no one could take it from them, he doesn't even have that anymore. The other henchmen he works with are just that—colleagues. No personable relationships, no nothing. Just…work.

A blessing and a curse.

But he wouldn't do anything about it. He knew damn well he was becoming a bigger liability the longer he let this go untreated—and shouldn't that be a laughing stock if that ever got out, that he was going untreated because of emotional neglect—but who was he supposed to go to?

The doctors in-house would glare him off. None of the others would give him the fucking time of day. The Serpent?

Please.

So he squared his shoulders and shoved everything down and didn't expect anyone to notice that he was always cold.

He did good. He wore the suits over long sleeves when he had to be stuffed into them and stood far away from everyone and ruined his reputation for bar trips so they wouldn't invite him anymore. He weathered the fleeting burning touches from the Serpent and limped home to pile blankets on his bed and crawl under them, shivering. He made cups of coffee when he couldn't sleep and cupped his hands around it to feel the warmth.

The doctors praised him for not drinking or smoking excessively to cope. Some of the others thought he was betraying them, that he must be hiding something, only for half of them to wind up on the wrong end of his knife at the Serpent's orders. Others went as far as to say he was sleeping with the Serpent.

No one had laughed harder than Remus. As if.

He just…existed. He did his job and he did it well. He was built for it.

Then he messed up.

It had been after a long fight. there was no blood on the carpet, all the bodies had been taken care of, and he'd even managed to keep himself pretty clean. But he was tired. So he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been.

And when the Serpent had brushed his fingers across his forehead, he'd flinched.

As soon as he'd realized he'd done it, he cursed inwardly. Immediately, he bowed his head, exposing his neck, ready for whatever punishment the Serpent deemed necessary.

Nothing came. When he looked up, the Serpent was staring at him with an inscrutable expression before glancing at the door in a clear dismissal.

He fled.

He was panting and shivering by the time he reached home, all but throwing his coat off and trembling as he rushed through the apartment to the bathroom.

His forehead still burned. He hurriedly stripped off his clothes and threw them in the basket, turning the shower as hot as it would go and jumping in.

Steam billowed around him and his skin glowed red after only a few seconds. His legs gave and he collapsed, lying like a child under the scalding water.

Through it all, he could still feel the burst of warmth on his forehead.

Pressure. Maybe pressure would help instead.

He shuts off the shower, hastily toweling off and shoving on a pair of pajamas before stumbling to the bedroom. Comforter. Sheet. Blanket. Other blanket. That stupid scratchy hotel blanket that everyone hates. Throw that in there too.

He crawled underneath the mound of blankets, still shivering, curling into a ball and closing his eyes.

Breathing became difficult in a matter of seconds. The air around him grew muggy and disgusting. And if he tried to move, everything would stick to him because he didn't dry off properly.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and blindly fumbled for a pillow, bundling it to his chest and burying his face in it.

It wasn't enough.

Even with the cool linen pressed against his skin, the memory of the Serpent's touch ached like a brand.

A truly pathetic whine emerged from his throat and he tried to muffle it as best he could into the pillow. On some level, he knew this apartment had cameras and microphones and he was being recorded. He wasn't dumb enough to hope it wouldn't pick up the whine.

He clenched himself tighter around the pillow.

What if the footage leaked? Or rather, what if someone got suspicious and decided to go through it?

They wouldn't see anything worthy of substantial punishment. It would be mortifying, but—but—but not anything to kick him out over.

And he could probably pass it off as an episode or a panic attack. He'd just come off a fight, after all. Most of them had nightmares or panic attacks, and it wouldn't be obvious what triggered it from just this footage.

Only the Serpent would know.

And just like that, the cold sharpened.

The Serpent wouldn't look. Why would he care? He wouldn't. He only wanted Remus around when he could be useful. And this wasn't useful.

His traitorous brain began to spiral, even as the pillow protested in his grip.

Maybe the Serpent would watch to see what happened after he fled. He would see Remus fly into his apartment and all but scramble to get clean, get safe, hide, and cry like a child.

Would he be disgusted? That a flick of fingers could reduce him to this mess?

Would he be angry? That this—that he triggered Remus's whatever-this-fucking-was?

…or would…would he be worried?

Remus squeezed his eyes even tighter, as if it would somehow deter the train of thought that had already left the station.

It didn't work, obviously.

No matter what he tried, he kept seeing the Serpent's face as he clicked through the security footage, an edge to his frown as he watched Remus shiver and shudder. He imagined the Serpent's expression twitching if he heard Remus whine, fingers flexing on the controls.

He staunchly refused to imagine the Serpent coming. To have him carefully pull back the blankets, reach down and brush the hair from his forehead again, to want to touch him.

He refused. It wasn't real. Couldn't be real.

But in this moment, curled around a limp pillow under a mound of blankets, it was all he had.

Pathetic.

Sleep came fitfully that night. He struggled to get comfortable under the blankets but couldn't risk moving out of them. He eventually dozed off to the delusions of gentle touches and soft expressions, hoping to leave them in the shadows.

Then he was called into the Serpent's office the very next morning.

He skipped his normal crass exterior and stood, suited and booted, hands crossed politely in front of him, waiting for his stay of execution. The Serpent stared back at him, fingers tapping idly on the desk.

He gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Not a question. Remus sat, hands folded, eyes respectfully on the edge of the desk. For long moments, neither moved.

Did he watch? No, no, he wouldn't have.

The Serpent stood, coming around the edge of the table. Remus steeled himself, ready for a dressing down, a slap, even a punch, and as such, didn't flinch when fingers brushed his forehead once more.

The touch still burned, the cold still ached, but he held firm.

A hand gripped his chin and pulled suddenly, forcing his head up to face the Serpent. He focused on the yank to his muscles, the slight twinge of pain.

Anything to get his mind off the warmth.

No speech came. Nothing came. Just the Serpent looking at him.

As time dragged on, he started to panic. He could distract himself with pain or cutting words but the hold wasn't even stern anymore. It was just…there.

He needed it gone if he was going to stay composed.

He didn't slump in relief when the hold disappeared, only exhaled a little heavier, but quickly regretted it when the Serpent reached up and—and—

He wasn't quick enough to stop the gasp when a warmsolidreal hand slid across his cheek.

He wanted to jerk back. He wanted to lean into it. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to—to—

It burned.

The Serpent's hand was gone. There were tears on Remus's cheeks. The Serpent was storming around the desk and picking up the phone. Remus was still staring into space, silently crying.

"Get up here," the Serpent barked into the phone before slamming it down onto the receiver.

…was this how he died?

A few minutes and a knock on the door. One of the doctors entered, snapping to attention when the Serpent pointed at Remus and growled fix him.

The doctor's touch was clinical and perfunctory. Remus didn't fight him, barely reacting to the splashes of warmth whenever hands touched his bare skin. The Serpent hovered in the background all the while with a permanent scowl on his face.

"He isn't injured, boss."

"Then tell me what's wrong with him."

The doctor sighed. "Could you describe what happened?"

"I touched him and he flinched away from me last night. He's still doing it."

"Reflex fatigue is not uncommon for most operatives, you know that."

"That doesn't explain why he started crying—" Remus winced— "when I barely touched him."

The doctor looked back at Remus as shame crept above his collar. "Is that true?"

He nodded.

"How did he touch you?"

This was it. This was how he died. Slowly, Remus lifted a shaking hand and brushed it across his cheek. Even the memory of it was enough to draw fresh tears.

"See?" The Serpent's voice sounded distant. "That's not normal. You need to fix him."

Fix. Yes. Broken things are fixed.

The doctor was quiet and then another burning hand landed on his shoulder. He didn't manage to stop the flinch.

"I see," came the doctor's voice, "I understand what's wrong."

"What is it?"

"He's touch starved."

Silence. The doctor's words landed like an anvil. Remus's chest tightened and he did all he could not to crumble into the chair.

Then the Serpent scoffed.

"If you're not going to tell me what's really going on, at least have the decency to tell me who can."

"I'm deadly serious, sir."

"Touch starved? Really? That's not a thing."

…never mind, this was how he died.

"Touch starvation," the Serpent said in a low, dangerous voice dripping with disdain, "is something that happens to infants and children. Not to my operatives and certainly not to him."

It's cold, Remus thought as the faint whine of nothingness swallowed him whole, it's so cold.

He apologized. He straightened up and made something up about how his—there were things in his past that made him distrust soft touches. He chose to twist the knife they already had in him that labeled him dangerous and reckless and make it more obvious, giving the Serpent the opportunity to push it deeper. The doctor mumbled something about PTSD and they were dismissed with a careless wave of the Serpent's hand. The doctor had given him a look in the elevator as they rode down.

Find someone, he had said without giving Remus time to say anything, just find someone.

But Remus had grown too busy proving his worth to the Serpent to bother with things like that. He had to prove he was still trustworthy, he was still useful. He would not flinch anymore at the touches—even though they stopped coming. He would not show that he was cold. He would not be weak.

He had not been a child for a very long time.

Then…then Roman.

And all of a sudden his brother was back. His brother was back and he was safe and so were the rest of the heroes. They were safe and they all made it out and the Cyrus Corporation was dead.

And suddenly the Serpent was Janus and he was lavishing them all with soft touches and tender attention and being gentle. He was making them feel safe and holding them close and whispering that it's alright, you're safe now, little heroes.

And Remus was given the people who tortured and abused him and his brother and free rein to make them suffer, and Roman was given a soft bed and a kiss on the forehead and all the cuddles he could ever want.

Remus had all he ever wanted. A job where he was disposable, replaceable, where no effort would be spared to ensure he survived so they could do it all over again. A boss who saw him as just another body, not as a pet project. A brother, safe, away from the world that would tear him apart.

He was cold.

He was so, so cold.

He fell asleep in Roman's bed once. Now that he could steal Roman's touches and press himself shamelessly into his brother's arms, they fell asleep like that once. When he woke, the Serpent—Janus was standing over them, looking at him.

He was back in that office before he could blink, bodies on the floor, warm fingers about to brush over his forehead.

Just like before, he ran.

Sometimes he wonders if he'll ever stop running.

***

"Remus? Remus, darling, wake up."

Hands shake him awake and he blinks, reaching for his knife only to realize who it was that shook him awake.

"J?"

"Yes, good boy, that's it, you wake up now."

"What's going on?"

Janus looks at him, all soft concern. "You were having a nightmare, darling. An awful one, by the looks of it, you've sweat clean through the sheets."

Sheets. Right. He's in bed. Janus is here with him in bed because—

Why is Janus in bed with him?

Oh.

Oh.

Right.

Janus had come over. He'd found Remus in his bedroom holding his knife and he'd—he'd pressed him against the wall and kissed him and said that Remus was his. He'd wrapped his arms around him and Remus had burned and blubbered and sniveled into Janus's shoulder and Janus had just whispered mine, my feral little junkyard dog, all mine, my Remus, my Remus.

"Stay with me, now," comes Janus's voice, the now Janus's voice and Remus blinks, "that's it, there you are, good boy."

His hand cups Remus's cheek and he presses a kiss to his forehead.

"What was it about," he murmurs into the space between them, "what scared you?"

"It's stupid."

"Not if it's upset you this much."

"You'll laugh."

"I won't."

"…you pretty much did last time."

He's going to blame the fact that he's still tired and scared and a little loopy from Janus's hand on his cheek when the words slip out. Janus frowns, trying to figure what on earth he could be talking about, only for recognition to dawn a moment later. Remus can't decide if he loves or hates the fact that Janus remembers.

"When the doctor told me you were touch starved," he says softly, stroking his cheek again, "and I said it wasn't a thing. That's what frightened you, isn't it?"

Remus nods, refusing to meet his gaze. Janus tuts and chucks him lightly under the chin, immediately pulling him closer to soften the gentle reprimand.

"Shall I tell you what I'd do now if he told me you were touch starved? To convince you I won't laugh ever again?"

"…please?"

Janus chuckles. "My darling, if you'd only asked me like that every time you wanted something, I'd have given it to you long ago."

He kisses Remus's forehead and tips his head up.

"You would still try to apologize, right? For letting it get this bad, or something, am I right?" Remus nods. "Would you still try and lie and say it wasn't touch starvation?"

"…probably not."

"Good boy. But you would say you wanted to try and fix it by finding someone else, yes?"

"That's what the doctor said, yeah."

"Mm. Then I would say how dare you, how dare you think I would let anyone else touch you, hold you, comfort you," Janus whispers, his voice gliding like another set of hands along Remus's skin, "when you are mine? Because I can't abide the thought of it, my darling, of someone else getting to spoil you with touch the way I would."

"But you never did," Remus can't help but croak, "not—not until—"

"Until our little prince came home," Janus finishes when he can't, "that's true. But shall I tell you a secret?"

Remus nods. Janus smiles, leaning close enough so his mouth brushes the curve of Remus's ear as he talks.

"If the doctor had scoffed instead, I would've done it then. I would've sent him from the room and probably down to a warehouse somewhere and I would've done this." His hands wrap around Remus's waist. "I would've told you to come to me if you needed this. And perhaps I would even have kissed you then too."

He kisses Remus's temple and Remus's eyes widen. "Why didn't you?"

"I was rattled," he admits—and it says something that neither of them makes a Serpent pun— "because you were so brash and excitable and fiery that I hadn't figured you could be cold too. And then the doctor was asking me to be gentle and I…well. Couldn't have rumors that I was going soft for some random operative, now, could I?"

Despite everything, the words some random operative make him flinch.

"Oh, my darling, I don't believe it. I never did, don't you see?" Another kiss, burning soft, just above his chin. "My Remus, you've always been my Remus, my good boy."

You can be special too, he remembers from last night, of course you can.

"So…I can stay?"

Janus chuckles. "I think the better question is can I stay? I have invaded your space, after all."

"Yes," he says far too quickly, "you can stay."

Another laugh, just as gentle as before, and Janus pulls the covers over them. "Sleep, my darling, you're alright. You won't be cold anymore."

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #fic

[chaisshitposts]

I RELATE SO MUCH WITH THE JJBA ARTSTYLE BUT IT WAS WORTH IT

hxh is soooo good oml but i still can't get over gon and killua separating🫠 i genuinely had one of the weirdest impressions on kny when i saw the wisteria house scene of inosuke, zenitsu, tanjiro, and nezuko chasing each other💀💀 it still hurts cuz you realize kny is going to end soon😭

i still haven't watched jjk s2 yet, waiting for it to be completed until i can binge watch it! absolutely gonna cry cuz i know it's gonna destroy me when it's completed but all's okay as long as i can see yuta hihihi

LET'S BE NERDS TOGETHER

my fav animes are the promised neverland (i'm so sad that they didn't follow the manga for s2😭😭 i didn't see my fav characters animated :c), the apothecary diaries, bungo stray dogs, and moriarty the patriot! i'm obsessed with detectives and animes with smart characters ngl (heck even the books i buy are murder mystery genres lmao)

question: what is the first anime you watched?? Mine is ranma 1/2!

🐧anon

UGH ABSOLUTELY, NOW I TRULY UNDERSTAND THE JOJO REFERENCES !!! and no those two have never separated idk what you're talkin' about 🧍 and ayo... THAT was the weirdest impression you had??? Not the first episode of absolute CARNAGE of tanjiro's family??!?!? understandable. and bruh ik, I need to buy the fuckin' manga but I don't want it to end, my cousin bought all the mangas and finished it and oml 😭 !!!!!! I can't wait to watch s2 of JJK, I'm tryna see scrunkly man toji in all his animated glory, even tho I hate his English dub voice 🧍 I think dio fits him tho... and oOOh a yuta fan 🤭 yuta is such a sweetie baby pie who'd prolly kick my ass if I crossed him

YES !!! NERDS UNITE 🫡🫡🫡

promised neverland... I definitely tried to watch it but god it was way too eerie for me and that's comin' from someone who watched attack on titan and some other messed up junk. I've only heard of one of those!!! bungou stray dogs, I never finished it despite the pretty character designs ☹️ might give it another try if I remember— and omg ranma!!!! I know that one hehehehe my first anime was katekyo hitman reborn! it got me into anime in the first place and created a deep love I have for super weak protagonists who secretly have hidden powers within them or they appear weak and people often underestimate them until it's too late. I dunno what it is about the badass feelin' it gives but it's like a shot of caffeine

are ya watchin' anything currently or have finished anything? :D personally I just finished mashle: magic and muscles!!! I'm excited for the next season tbh OH and I am also watching zom 100 and it's actually pretty good !!! a lil' depressin' but still a very intriguing plot

#— chai's asks. !! ~ #— 🐧 anon. !!~