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#and went straight to wheezing to death
itstheghostofmypast · 3 months
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One More Hour
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Idol San x (f)Reader
Summary: If Choi San was sure about one thing, it was the love that occupied his heart, his love for her. She had become everything he needed, everything he believed in and everything he worshipped, not a thought that went by that wasn't followed by a thought about her. The only problem was, his undying love for her, was a secret known only to her, not the people he had been living with since his teens.
Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst) (simp San, technically they're both hopelessly, dramatically inlove- i do not regret this)
Warnings: None
A/N: Choi San's got me whipped, I just can't. Please remember to show some love by 💗 and reblogs
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With her cheek squished against his cotton-clad chest, she felt his warmth slowly lull her to a state of blissful sleep, their heartbeat synchronized as he hummed a familiar, yet random tune, perhaps it wasn't the tune that was familiar but his melodic voice that could compete with angels.
She had long forgotten the plot of the movie, too engrossed by his presence, arms squeezing his waist, pressing herself closer into his side, his hand reaching to rest on top of her head, fingers caressing through her hair. It had been long since the two had spent time together like this, just enjoying each other's presence, basking in each other's warmth. So, when given the opportunity to take a day off, when everyone else had other things to do, he chose to stay at home alone, unknown to the rest of the members that instead of sleeping in, he had decided to spend the evening with his significant angel. Calling her over with a well-formulated plan, since everyone was leaving and coming in late, he had told her to drop by earlier and he'd drop her off before they arrived back home, meaning the two could spend some time together- both knowing even an eternity spent together wasn't enough.
It's not that he didn't want to tell them or that they wanted to keep it a secret, it's just that company at the dorm was… something noone preferred, possibly due to this being the only place of privacy they had. More importantly, he didn't want to introduce her as just her girlfriend, his brain had been buzzing with a certain idea he wasn't sure if she was comfortable with, which is why he had been waiting for the perfect opportunity.
"Sannie…" her hushed voice rang in his ears, earning a hum in return she paused, eyes darting to the wall clock as a sigh escaped her lips, finally causing him to look away from the screen to scan her face, eyes tracing the subtle frown of her brows and pouted lips- "What's wrong-hey" he called out, trying to hold her still as she slipped away, sitting up straight, "Where are you going?" his own pout making its way to his face, mirroring the sad look in her eyes.
"It's six, Sannie, I need to get going before it gets too late," she mumbled, trying to make her way over his sprawled-out legs to the other side of the bed, only for him to gently push her down, ignoring her high pitched, over-dramatic squeak, climbing over her form as her head hit the soft mattress pinning her down, glaring up at him, his grip on her wrists tightened, pushing them down next to head. "Don't go." his whine not even remotely representing the death grip he had on her, his whole body engaging her, face pressed into the skin of her neck, lips pressing against her pulse, stretching into a smirk at the feeling of her breath hitching.
"One more hour," mumbling against her skin he traced his lips up the column of her neck to her jaw, trailing soft kisses to her ear, "I'll drop you home myself, just…one more hour."
"But Sannie- uff" her whine was cut off as the air was pushed out of her lungs, thanks to him putting his entire body weight on top of hers, rubbing his nose against her cheek, "You have been detained, due to the horrendous crime of breaking your boyfriend's heart."
"I'm about to die." wheezing out she tried to pull her hands out of his death grip or at least shove him off, only to fail and whine in defeat. His chest vibrated as a chuckle broke past his lips, proud at how all that time at the gym had paid off, before pulling himself off her, only to hover over her, his hands letting go of her wrists, to cup her face, thumbs brushing over her warm cheeks.
"Just one more hour," he whispered before placing a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose, smiling at how she scrunched her nose in response.
"Tempt me to stay."
Words that had no malice or implications, in truth she just meant food or a tasty treat, nothing else of any sort but a fact that slipped her mind. A thought and a fact about how the big, shy, feline-eyed man of hers was a pervert. A sinister smirk replaced his easy smile, eyes gleaming at the way her smile had faltered upon the realisation of the innuendo that could have been behind those words- mind you she had not intended for there to be any.
.
"You perv." was all she could manage to huff out, chest heaving after the tedious, tiring yet exhilarating session, staring up at the false ceiling in post haze. His pillow felt cold under her head, her body shivering, more from the buzz of the aftermath than the cold. Laying on his side he watched her features, the way her gaze seemed to be unfocused, lips slightly parted, cheeks puffed out and pink, propping himself up on his elbow, he reached over to caress her cheek, neither concerned about the time anymore.
"Shower?"
"Yes please."
With a quick shower, the two had returned to their usual spot on the bed, after San had oh so kindly changed the sheets. He had forced her to wear his hoodie, only for her to insist he give her something to wear underneath too because it was cold and much to his displeasure he had to give his gym shorts, even after he had explained how he'd keep her legs warm even without anything, only to receive an "I've had enough of your nonsense for one day, Choi."
"What are you doing?" her words broke the comfortable silence, catching him in the act, and stopping him from pulling the covers over the two. She had allowed a cuddling session to commence but never approved of anything more, it was almost nine and she had to go- no, he said he'd drop her off- no, she'd rather go alone to avoid anything else.
"I thought we could rest…for a bit…you know…" clearing his throat he looked around, "After all that fun."
"And who decided to have that 'fun', huh?"
"You. It was actually you." with that he pulled her closer, holding her close as she struggled against him, "Don't worry, I set the alarm, just one more hour." she paused looking up at him, as he leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on her forehead, "Just one more hour, I promise."
.
"That was by far the worst film you could have ever forced us to watch." Mingi sighed, opening the door and entering the passageway, kicking his shoes off, followed by the others.
"It was an art film," Hongjoong argued, locking the door behind him, noting how Seonghwa had been neatly stacking everyone's shoes, in order only to pause at a pair of Converse, one that looked too small for any of them.
"It was SHIT, that's what it WAS." Wooyoung called out as he headed towards his room, "A bloody day off and we decide to let him plan it- SAN WAS SO SMART FOR NOT COMING." he stopped by the kitchen, before swinging open the fridge, "I mean I get it, it can be in French or whatever language, but why did the dude become a slug and- this bastard…"
"What's up?" Yunho asked, ripping open a packet of instant ramen, midnight snacks are important. Motioning to Yeosang who nodded, signaling for a serving as well.
Slamming the door closed Wooyoung turned around and glared at them, "The asshole ate my cakeslice!"
"You mean the toothpaste one?"
"Not funny Yunho.Not.F*cking.Funny!"With that he stomped out of the kitchen, probably to confront the criminal.
"What's his deal?" Mingi, who Wooyoung slammed his shoulder into, stumbled into the kitchen, earning an eye-roll from Yuho and a quiet "He's insane" from Yeosang.
"Not mine," Jongho mumbled, staring at the shoes, both his hyungs humming in agreement. Hongjoong looked at the two, "Did San have company over? He never said he would- is he seeing someone?"
"Not that I know of?" Seonghwa mumbled, glancing at Jongho who looked up at the door when they heard the familiar keypad beep. All three stared at the door as the person of conversation walked in, the cap of his hoodie covering most of his beanie-covered head, his bangs peeking out from beneath. Pulling his mask down he placed the plastic bag on the floor to kneel and untie his shoes, only to freeze at the sight of the many shoes before him, slowly glancing up to meet the gaze of the three most judgmental members.
"I can explain." he began only for Seonghwa to snort, "We didn't ask anything yet."
"Listen, she was meant to leave- I- we thought you'd come later-"
"Please tell me, she is not a professional." Hongjoong cut him off, rubbing his temples, they could not and did not, need a scandal of sorts.
"Of course not!" he snapped, before biting back his tongue at the way Hongjoong stared at him, correcting himself, "No… she’s not a fling or a hookup, I swear she's special and I-"
A shriek cut him off, alarming everyone else too, "Shit!" Bolting past them he ran to his room, noting the door was open and from inside he heard, none other than Wooyoung, "I AM SO SORRY! I SWEAR I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING!"
"Yah! What did you do??" He growled, stomping in to find his girlfriend crouched on the ground next to the bed and Wooyoung with his eyes covered by the doorframe.
"I CAME HERE TO BEAT YOUR ASS AND THEN I SAW- "He paused at the whimper, "I MEAN I SAW YOU MISS- NOTHING ELSE I SWEAR!"
San crouched down beside her trying to pry her hands away from her face, only for her to glare at him with teary eyes and hiss, "You asshole." Trying to shove him away but he pulled her into his chest, eyeing his shorts that she was wearing on the ground, oh, so she was trying to change her clothes- honestly, he had only gone for 40 minutes. He had woken up as soon as the alarm rang but with his quick reflexes, he turned it off, wanting to spend a few more minutes with her, call him selfish, clingy or obsessed, none of them was wrong. After a few minutes, an idea popped up in his head, which is why he had decided to make a little trip to the bakery nearby, to bring her something.
"So, this is why you didn't come with us today?" Wooyoung finally looked at the two, her face still hidden in his chest, San's hoodie covering her form, her grip on his sweater tightening at the question. This was it, it was all over, she would either be asked to leave or forced to leave his life, they’d take away the only reason why she woke up in the morning, the only reason she still had hope in the future of humanity- call her over dramatic but that was just how much he meant to her. His scent, his body, his soul, if she could she would keep begging the stars to make sure they are bound together for an eternity, surrounded by him, to keep her grounded. Though that was a distant dream now, one that was going to be snatched out of her hands, the very hands that were pulling him even closer, in fear, if he were to be pulled away from her so be it, but she would savour the few seconds she had left with him, to imprint his being in her soul, a memory she could turn to on rainy days. She had hopped he had not picked up on this little anxious act, but how could San be San if he hadn’t, the moment the question had left Wooyoung’s lips, he had felt her grip on him tighten, his heart growing three sizes bigger at this very act of love and want. He had noticed how she was clinging onto him, no longer out of embarrassment or anger, but fear- fear of uncertainty, the fear he knew had accompanied him the first time he had asked her out, the first time he had kissed her, the first time he asked her to become an official couple- that very day he had promised himself to never put her in a position where this fear would become a reality, yet here they were, about to face this demon, together for the last time.
"Good choice. The film was shit."
Her head snapped up to meet Wooyoung’s casual gaze, who shrugged, “Seriously, certain art films should be banned, and I’d rather choose to stay at home with a lady than go out with Hongjoong any day.”
San smiled at his best friend, eyes watering at the note of acceptance and approval, delivered in the most Wooyoung manner, but words of affirmation that both needed to hear. Slowly standing up he pulled her up with him, letting her adjust the oversized hoodie, “Thanks man, I appreciate-”
His words were cut short as Wooyoung raised his hand, “Not you, bastard, I still want to stab you, not only for eating my slice of cake but also for not telling us beforehand you had a guest, now she’ll think I’m a creep.”
“I’m sure she already thinks so.” Yunho peered in from the doorway, smiling at the girl who shied away, moving behind her boyfriend, who glanced up at Yunho, “Also, Hongjoong called for a group meeting and you’re invited too!”
.
With her clothes changed, she sat a good distance from her boyfriend, hands in her lap, the same lap that seemed oh so interesting that she had been staring at it silently while San was trying to explain how they met.
“So, let me get this straight, you have been together for four years and you thought not telling us, your ‘brothers’, would be a good idea?” Hongjoong asked, staring- no- glaring at San.
“Four years, three months and 23 days actually…” he mumbled, before noticing the way she was staring at him, with the most, ‘what the f*ck, dude’ expression she could muster.
“Is he a good boyfriend?”
“Does he treat you well?”
“Are you into dumb dudes?”
“Have your parents met him?”
“Are they scared of his face?”
It was the last question that had her choking on her spit, trying to conceal the laughter, that increased in volume after his whines became more apparent, he knew what they were doing, they were embarrassing him on purpose- a form of payback.
“Yes, yes, I uh…guess so and yes they have met him and no they find him to be very good-looking.” Finally looking up at them she smiled gently, the nervous atmosphere around them, maybe this wasn’t so bad. At his point she was glad that they had accepted her, or rather had approved of their relationship, it was as if a giant boulder had been lifted off her shoulders, and she was free to love him with the certainty of them being together.
He was thrilled to see how everyone had absorbed this, he knew they’d give him hell once she left, but it wasn’t because they disliked her, no, it was due because of his cowardice. It was he who made all of them promise to be transparent, yet here he was keeping one of the most important people in his life a secret, putting strain on the relationship with his lover and his members. The issue was no longer whether they would accept her he had found a loophole for that, he wanted to introduce her to them, really did, but he wasn’t going to introduce her as ‘just his girlfriend’. San slowly moved closer, hands reaching out for hers only to pause and stare at her, “Wait, did you just say I’m dumb?”
“I uh-
“So, did you wait this long to tell us because you were going to propose first and then tell us?” Wooyoung cut her off as she choked on air, her boyfriend too busy trying to pat her back, his face dusted with pink, the tips of his ears burning at the embarrassment of being caught. Whispering to her, “You okay?”
She glanced up at him through her lashes, whispering back coyly, “Were you going to propose?”
“Yeah,” he gave her that million-dollar dimpled smile, eyes turning into crescents, only to turn into cat-like slits with the most serious and judgemental expression, one that sent shivers down her spine. His head whipped in Wooyoung’s direction, “How did you know- oh you bastard.”
Holding the crumb-covered ring in his hand, showing it to everyone, his eyes met his best friend's glare, the plate of a half-eaten cake slice on his lap, an easy smirk making its way to his face, “That’s what you get for eating my slice.”
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rubberfuckey · 10 months
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summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.
wc: 1.3k
a/n: This is set right after season three, let's pretend the time skip in the show doesn't exist (: This is my first post since 2020! Let me know what y'all think <3333 part two??? ;)
Eyes snapping open and with a rush of panic, you try to locate your piercingly loud phone tangled in the sheets somewhere next to you. Who the fuck would be calling me at whatever ungodly hour it is? Finally finding it, you damn near blind yourself with how bright it is and how unadjusted your eyes are. Squinting, too tired and agitated to read it, you swipe to answer the call like muscle memory. 
“Hello?” you huff.
“I’m sorry I know it’s late… but I have a favor to ask.”
“Wheeze? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Hearing her voice sits you straight up in your bed, she has never called this late or has ever asked of anything from you.
“I’m okay, kind of. I’m alive. It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“Wheezie-”
“I know,” she cuts you off, “nevermind it was stupid anyways.”
“No, Wheezie, talk to me.”
“It’s just, Rafe,” you flinch at hearing his name, “I’m scared. I’ve never seen him like this before. We know he’s already a pretty angry guy, but this is something different.”
You sit there quietly listening. You left Kildare a year ago, after a nasty breakup with Rafe and trying to break apart the unhealthy codependency you both developed. You transferred to a different state college but you always stayed in touch with Wheezie. Before you and Rafe went wrong, you were close with both his sisters and promised to stay in contact with the young girl you watched grow throughout your time with Rafe. No one knew of course, you and Rafe were completely no contact- opting to block his number after one too many heartwrenching voicemails while obviously under the influence of his favorite white powder. 
Sarah hadn’t tried to reach out, but from what Wheeze had mentioned she got herself distracted with a pogue-turned cop killer-who was proved innocent. What a shit show. You knew it all, countless Facetime calls caught you up to speed. You consoled her through the “death” of Sarah, the “death” of her father and what other trauma presented itself. Sometimes it was too much being constantly reminded of your ex, whom you still loved very deeply, but being there for this poor girl trumped how it made you feel. The feeling went both ways, she stopped you from coming back to the island quite a few times when she told you just how bad things have gotten, insisting that she would be okay, when in reality she really just needed a hug from her honorary sister. He was never brought up, you didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. Something in your gut told you it’s just better if you don’t know what had been going on with him. You appreciated her respecting that boundary. 
“The club is hosting some kind of party in Ward’s honor tomorrow. It’s weird, he was supposed to be dead months ago and the island is just now doing something in memory of him. Probably Rose organized it or something, who knows. Anyways,” she stopped and took in a deep breath, “Rose wants us all to be there and speak about him in front of everyone. I went to ask Rafe what he planned on saying to hopefully find some inspiration but he just went on and on about how ‘the pogues killed him on purpose’ and how ‘they have another thing coming to them if they think they’re just going to get away with it’. I’ve seen him mad before, I’ve watched him punch holes through the walls, scream, yell, and cry. But this…” she trails off, inhaling deeply after her fast paced rant. 
You sigh, not knowing what to say, “Give me some time to get a bag packed and get on the road, and I’ll be there.”
“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t bother you with his dramatics if I didn’t think it was important.”
“Hey, don’t apologize, I’m glad you told me. I’ll be there soon, just keep working on what you want to say. I’ll help you brainstorm tomorrow while I’m driving if you need me to.”
“Thanks, Y/N. You’re seriously the best.”
“Keep your head up Wheeze, get some rest and maybe steer clear of your brother for a little bit.”
After hanging up, you sigh and stare up at your ceiling. Shit.
-
The drive back to the OBX gave you time to think, what would you actually be walking back into? Was his grief manifesting itself into the kind of anger and violence that could be fatal to anyone he saw at fault? You shuddered at the thought. Pulling in to your parent’s driveway, you sent a text to Wheezie telling her you just got in and you’ll meet her at the country club. You could name about a thousand and one places you would rather be than under the same roof as Rafe Cameron for the first time in over a year, but you wanted to pay your respects and be there to support the people that had turned into your bonus family during your 2 year relationship with Rafe. 
“You ready honey?” your mom asks as you slip on your shoes to match the black dress you had chose. 
“As I’ll ever be.” 
The car ride was quiet, your anxiety was palpable as you bit your nails down and bounced your leg uncontrollably. Walking in the familiar doors, all you saw was the looks on people’s faces as they realized you were back on the island and here no less. Pretty much everyone knew who you were, your family’s status not much different from the Cameron’s themselves. You were known as the sweet girl from the affluent family who smiled politely at everyone who looked in your direction and would never hurt a fly. Rafe’s reputation was quite the opposite. When you and Rafe had made your first entrance together at Midsummers at the age of 17, it was the talk of the island. Ignoring the stares and whispers, you held your head high and looked for Wheezie.
Standing next to a huge photo of Ward leant against an easel stood Rafe, watered down whiskey in hand as he blankly looked around at the people in the room. If one more person awkwardly gave him a tight lipped look of sympathy, he was going to lose it. He heard people murmuring and the looks in his direction seemed to increase. Shaking off the feeling like everyone knew something he didn’t, he downed his drink and made his way over to get another. Sofia caught him before he reached the bar and assumed her position under his arm. 
“Maybe slow down on the whiskey?” She meant well, but damn did he need another drink. Looking at her blankly, he kept moving towards the bartender. His father was dead, who gives a fuck how much alcohol his grieving son intakes. Kelce walks into the room from the hallway, looking around frantically, catching sight of Rafe as  he beelines toward him, out of breath. 
“Yo, Rafe, Y/N is here.” 
Rafe nearly chokes on his drink as he looks at Kelce with an unreadable expression, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Y/N, I just saw her walking in with my own two eyes bro.” 
He sets his glass back down and suddenly Sofia was right all along, he needs to slow down on the whiskey if you were really here. He thinks back to the last time he saw you, all the screaming and crying and pleading with you not to leave. Even with the past year's events, he puts losing you at the top of the list of the most painful things he’s ever been through. He understands why you left and couldn’t blame you, but damn did he miss you like you were the air he needed to breathe. You walked in, obviously looking for something or someone as he watched your eyes scan the room until they caught his. He immediately felt nauseous. I’m going to puke, you thought.
part two
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contlis12 · 7 months
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death/dark feederism story
Coles cheeks burned with arousal and embarrassment as Ronnie followed behind him through the Walmart parking lot. It had been over 4 years since he had been anywhere near his old town and being back here 300 pounds fatter than he was the last time was like some kind of fantasy and embarrassing nightmare rolled into one. It didn’t help that Ronnie had put on a great show for his old work place. Ronnie and Cole had been in a relationship for over 4 years and theres was definitely not the typical one. Cole was Ronnie’s feedee. They were monogamous, lived together, and were in a committed relationship but they were not a “couple”. The relationship dynamic was too skewed for Cole to be considered his boyfriend in Ronnie’s opinion. He was his feedee, his piggy and his property. They had first met on an extreme gaining forum centered around death feederism and hit it off instantly. Cole moved half way across the country and became Ronnie’s live in feedee spending all day under his feeders care and had blown up from a already hefty 280 pound stoner nerd to a nearly 600 pound wheezing hog that was on the verge of immobility.
Ronnie had decided to celebrate the upcoming milestone with something special. “I want to take you back to your home town piggy, I want people who used to know you to not even recognize you. I want to live out all those fap fantasies you had in the bedroom with me.” Cole was nervous, as hot as the idea of public humiliation was he also dreaded the idea of an old friend seeing him in his current state but it didn’t change the fact he was immensely turned on by the idea and was helpless to serving his feeder. He had been conditioned to be a good piggy.
When they first arrived in town Ronnie had went straight to Walmart, Coles last job before he had left town. Normally Cole would use a walker to go anywhere but Ronnie made him struggle from the handicap van spot in front of the doors to the entrance where he had parked one of the stores mobility scooters and the probably no more than 30 foot walk had Cole pouring sweat and hyperventilating. Ronnie had been sure to dress him in the tightest smallest tank top and sweat shorts Cole had that showed off his melted ice cream cone figure as much as possible. Amazingly nobody in the store did recognize Cole but he was a spectacle none the less. Ronnie had been sure to load Coles mobility scooters basket up with the most fattening treats on the shelf. At one point Ronnie had stopped in the aisle and cracked a two liter of rootbeer and unwrapped two snack cakes “baby you don’t look so good, here eat these to feel better. You need some food in you”. A few aisles later and a few more suggested snack cakes and Cole had polished off the whole two liter and family sized box of chocolate covered Twinkie’s. The whole trip through the store was mortifying to Cole but amazing aswell. The feeling of submission to his feeder was intoxicating, he felt like a helpless fat pet and loved it.
When they were back in the van Ronnie had a final destination in mind before they left town. They had hit up multiple fast food joints, Ronnie wanted a spread that would look outrageous and eye catching. Before they had gotten out of the van and loaded Cole in his bariatric wheelchair they kept in the back for any sort of travel further than across a buffet parking lot Ronnie had rolled up Coles tank top and tucked it under his moobs fashioning it into a belly shirt. He pulled his sagging gut out of his shorts and let if flop heavily over the waist band of Coles way too small sweat shorts “comfy piggy? Get that belly ready because I’m going to stuff you hard. Everyone is going to watch you swell up like a blimp for me”. Cole was too nervous and excited to say much besides “ok” sheepishly as he felt his stomach pool across his lap and the warm summer breeze on his exposed stretch mark covered gut. Ronnie wheeled Cole to a pavilion in the middle of the park, people were around walking their dogs and playing in the park but nobody has really seemed to notice the two of them. Leaving him at the table with a couple bags of McDonalds and Burger King Ronnie gave him a firm smack and jiggle on his stomach before deeply kissing him “okay piggy I’m going to get the rest of the food from the van and we will start in a minute” as Ronnie walked away Cole looked down almost appearing naked in his vision past the rolled up tank top seeing nothing but wheel chair and pale stretch marked cellulite.
“Cole?!” as soon as he heard it his already food filled stomach dropped “oh my god, is that you?” He closed his eyes for a moment trying to become invisible “it is you!” He opened his eyes in time to see two women appear from around the side of the chair into view and Cole recognized one of them immediately. It was a very short term girlfriend from high school named Bree. Cole was speechless for a moment before finally simply saying “uhh hi”. Bree and the girl both stood staring wide eyed barley even trying to hide their disgust and amusement. “What happened to you? I wouldn’t have even recognized you if I didn’t remember your tattoo!” She said not even beating around the bush “are you okay? I knew you were a bit heavy before but you look ready to pop now!”. Cole stammered for a response “uhh yeah I put on a lot of weight, I had a medical” but was cut off as Ronnie walked up and introduced himself.
“Well hello, do you guys know Cole?” He said as he walked over and placed the other bags of fast food before putting a hand on Coles shoulder. “Yeah I was friends back in high school with him but I hadn’t seen him since then, hardly recognized him.” She said still grinning and looking in pure amazement at how fat Cole was. “Oh yeah Cole has put on alot of weight, I hardly recognize old photos of him when we first got together. He really blew up” Ronnie said reaching down and squeezing a fat roll on his stomach. “Oh are you his boyfriend? I didn’t know he was gay” Bree said looking at all the food on the table. “Oh no I’m his feeder” Ronnie said proudly as Cole felt his cheeks turning red. “His what?” Bree said laughing. Ronnie grinned looking at his piggy trapped like a fat whale as they talked about him like live stock “his feeder, it’s a fetish that is about weight gain. He’s a submissive to me and I make him fatter. I’ve put almost 300 pounds on him and we are trying to get him as fat as possible.” Ronnie grinned looking at their amazement. “Wow, I don’t really know what to say to that” Bree said wide mouthed at the sight before her. Ronnie just smiled back at her “well if you guys are done catching up he needs to eat” before going back to Cole “Okay piggy you hungry? Because I’m going to stuff you until you are ready to pop baby”. Bree and her friend laughed and jeered as Ronnie stuffed burger after burger into his piggy.
Looking up Cole seen them snapping pictures and taking cell phone videos knowing this would be all over their Facebook pages for everyone in his hometown to see. “Feed me make me so huge I break my wheel chair!” Cole moaned “I need to grow for you!” Cole let out wild snort and swallowed the food as fast as he could as he felt more dominated than he ever had before and he loved it. “I hope he has to bring me in a bariatric bed to the park next year” Cole thought as more messy gobs of burger and mayonnaise were shoved into his bulging cheeks.
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tabletop-nightmare · 1 year
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My 70 year old parents and 46 year old sister are watching Legend of Vox Machina with me and I thought I would start making note of the things THEY make note of with absolutely no context of CR:
Unfortunately I didn't think of this until Season 2 so all I'll say for Season 1 is they fell in love with all of the characters.
Season 2 ep. 1-3:
Ep 1: Lots of babbling about the dragons. Raven Queen sighting 1 left them all asking me questions loudly that I obviously couldn't answer. My mom asking if Vax is bi and my sister not missing a beat "I think they all are." My sister pointing out Scanlan's unwillingness to fight the dragons. They did a lot of eye rolling with Scanlan season 1 and they are very clearly realizing shits deeper than that.
Ep 2: I'll start off with saying my family now greats me with "Bidet" its a blessing. My dad straight up said "I think the sword may be regretting who its with rn." Which obviously made me wheeze. Raven Queen sighting 2 had them asking more questions but Louder. They are very aware now that all of the characters are highly complex and that this may be a bit more than a funny violence riddled time. Osysa's comment to Scanlan especially made my family go "oh wait... oh no wait a minute." This is a Pike Trickfoot loving household. They are very aware of the character arc Grog is about to go through I think.
Ep 3: Purvan Suul funny. My sister football yelling at them to look in the lake. Seeing Grogs frenzy made a few people nod their heads. With what understanding they have of DnD and the fact the show is almost a 1 to 1 to a dnd campaign they were really fucked up about Vex's death. My mom is a sweetheart and was like "Wait did that mean she couldnt play anymore :(" and I explained some dnd stuff to her and it turns out it was an evil rouse to get me to say that Vex would "probably" be fine and she straight up went "oh okay so shes not dead :)" Evil Mother tactics.
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whatthehellami · 5 months
Text
The hero was feeling terrible. They should have just gone for an engineering or medical degree but instead they went for the most "glorious" job in the country. The TV show which glamorized this job was partly to be blamed. Neither did they get married nor do they have a stable pay. Life is most unfair to the best.
They slowly got back on their feet, unable to completely straighten their body due to the harsh punch which the villain sweetly gifted  them.
"You're so slow today that it's seriously getting boring. It's going to be 12 soon and I think I'll just wrap this up early and go home."
"Actually I've caught a cold. And you...you bastard you are in your top form today."
The villain laughed, walking leisurely towards the hero. "Your government really sucks. Even we have sick leaves." They clapped the hero's shoulder. "See, this is when you need to reconsider your career choices."
The hero took the chance to deliver a straight punch to the villain's guts but they were sadly blocked.
"My mom was correct, goodness is a thing of the past. Here I'm worried about you and you..." They tsked disapprovingly. "Now please let me do the honors of becoming the winner of this fight."
The villain's hand on their heart felt like a boulder. For a second, all hero could feel was complete darkness and panic as their heart rate decreased. They could taste death. In fact, they almost shook hands with the grim reaper before they were forcefully brought back to mortal world.
They wheezed and panted on the ground, their ears ringing and their hands shivering. Till date they had just heard about the villain's "superpower" and made fun of it. They were eating their own words now.
They were too preoccupied to notice that the villain was also in the same state. After stabilizing themselves and coming to their full senses, they understood the full gravity of the situation.
Nature had weird laws. One of them was that soul mates could feel each other's pain.
The hero looked at the villain's wide eyes.
"This means..."
"I think the fuck not. I'm out of here. I'm fucking out of here." The villain's screams echoed through the streets as they got farther and farther away while hero sat on the ground, dumbfounded at the turn of events.
Maybe the pay is terrible but they think, that at last, they'll be able to get married.
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callofdudes · 1 year
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I know you have a temporary writers block at the moment but I wanted to leave this here.
I thought about could you do the alone mission form mw2 but add a y/n point of view as well
Platonic please
I'm slowly making my way through my inbox and trying to get everything out. But I have been working on this for a hot minute @itsscromp 🫡
A/N: This will replay the Alone mission from your perspective. I have included a majority of Soap and Ghost' s dialogue, some being repurposed and such. The mission won't be 100% accurate as some details I'm foggy on, but please enjoy regardless. And spoilers for the Alone mission I guess??
This is so long... Oh my gosh.
Just over 10K words, so buckle up.
CW: Blood, violence, heavy swearing, near death, still calling you Cobra 🐍
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Everything was a blur. Your adrenaline spikes, and you remember your body being thrown from the moving truck. Graves curses angrily when you slam the door open and tumble out. Your body slams against the asphalt. Pain spreads through your limbs as you tumble and roll down into the ditch.
You roll over twigs and branches that scrape and drag across your skin. Your body crashes into a tree in the dirt, leaving you shaking.
You pant. You hear the truck stop along the road. You force your breath in and lay as still in the slick mud as possible.
You pray that you won't be found.
Graves starts yelling and cussing.
"Why weren't you watching them!?"
"Let them go! They won't make it out alive on their own anyway." He orders his men back in the car, and the tires pick up back across the road.
You wheeze. Alejandro. They still had Alejandro.
Your lungs compress and ignite like flames, each breath hard and forced.
You pick up your aching body and crawl out of the ditch. Your wrists ache, still zip tied together. You reach up and press your comm. "Soap?? Ghost?? Can either of you hear me??" You wheeze and coughed.
The commlink crackles and your spirits rise.
"Cobra! This is Soap, how copy?"
Relief floods your body. "Stable. Currently crawling in a ditch down the road-" You cough. "Where's your location?"
"A town just a couple miles from here. Meet me there."
You struggle with the your sore hands. "Copy that."
You stand yourself up on your knees and rise to your feet. The rain chills your body, the moonlight being your only guide. Your vision blurs momentarily, blood rushing through your ears. You shake your head quickly and stagger forward.
You walk back up the road to the shootout and look down into the brush. That must have been where Johnny went. You hop down and trek the sticky mud. All the while struggling with your knife. You needed to get this stupid zip tie off but it was proving a bit more difficult in your shaky form.
About halfway through the walk your commlink crackles again.
"Sergeant how copy?" The voice is deeper and makes your insides loosen with reassurance.
"Ghost! I'm headed for Soap."
"Alright sergeant. That town is crawling with shadows. Soap is hidden inside one of the first shops you'll see, to your left. go straight there."
"Copy that."
You slid down a slope and came upon the darkened town. Definitely abandoned and silent. Everyone must be in hiding.
You notice the first building had a faint light on and a sign above the door. You look both ways before making a break for it. You struggle with the wet door handle. It jiggles and pulls but you can't quite grab it.
"Soap- it's me!" You attempt to whisper yell through the door.
The door is pushed open and Soap rushes out, his gun knocking against your jugular. "Easy- easy-"
Johnny looks both ways before pulling you back inside. "Hells bells you scared me!" He scolds.
"Apologies. I couldn't get the door open." You raise your hands to show him your predicament. "That's alright." Johnny pulls out his knife and slices it down between your wrists and snaps the zip tie.
"I thought Graves got you? I was worried."
"I jumped from the truck."
Johnny opens his arms and pulls you in tightly. "You crazy bastard."
You chuckle. And then you notice his arm. "Soap, are you ok?"
Johnny hums. "Oh! That, yeah, just a bullet wound. I'm fine. I'm more worried about you. Just look at yer self."
Johnny grabs a lamp and points it across your body. In the darkness you could feel the damage but were unsure of what damage that was. Your pants are tearing at the knees and blood is starting to stain deep through your pant leg. Your arms are clearly going to bruise and you are starting to shake more violently.
"If you need a stim I'm sure we can find one."
You shudder and shake your head. "No, I'll be fine. I just want to get us in and out."
"Luckily Ghost will help. Not like he didn't leave us- I still don't know how he got to the church in the half the time I did."
You shrug. "He IS the Ghost."
Johnny nods. "Speaking of..." *He presses down his comm. "Ghost. Cobra has reached my position. Awaiting further instructions."
You wring out your wrists anxiously.
"Shadows are swarming the grounds. Our best option is to split up."
"Split us up!? What-" Johnny claps his hand over your mouth. You grab his forearm and quickly shut up. Johnny releases you after a moment and consults his comms. "Lt, is splitting us up the best idea?"
"Two soldiers together are more noticable than one."
"Are you injured?" Ghost asks again, referring to you. You huff, "I'm not a medic."
"Tell me something I don't know."
You look at Johnny who chews on Ghost's words for a moment. "You ok to go on your own?"
"Anything to get out alive." You reply.
Johnny clicks his comm again. "Alright Lt. What do we do?"
"Keep your blood in, you'll need every drop."
"Thanks for the tip. Where are you?" Johnny asks.
"There's a church. I'm heading to it. Let's RV there. You'll need to improvise to survive."
"Get Cobra suited up. No doubt Graves confiscated your weapons?" Ghost questions.
You search your person, only finding your Glock at the front of your armor. "Stripped."
"I ain't got much to work with here either Lt."
"Just get out there and worry about not getting killed then. You know protocol."
Johnny looks up at you and nods. "See you on the other side?"
"You'd be stupid to think I'm going anywhere."
You two shake on it. Johnny checks the windows and gives you the go-ahead. You slip out the front door into the night. Watery lights drift through the rain. Old buildings cast black shadows and remains of life.
You slip around a corner, still trying to shake the impending exhaustion of your fall. You turn on your comm. and listen to the sound of Soap and Ghost's voices. Ghost was focusing on Johnny, leaving you to assume the coast was clear and keep moving. Thank goodness it was.
Usually, soldiers were mindless enough to talk to each other loud enough to hear, but risking your chances wasn't an option.
You slip into another house and sweep through the interior. The upstairs bedrooms, the kitchen, and the living room. No signs of any better gun or any ammunition.
You walk back down the stairs, your knee buckling on the last step, sending you tumbling into the wall. Your hand moves out and you manage to catch yourself before your face had a nice meeting with said wall.
You pant, your leg spasming before settling down again.
"Cobra how copy?" Ghost questions.
"Solid. Just tripped."
"Don't give away your position."
"Affirmative sir."
You pull yourself back up and step out of the house and back into the rain.
You walk up to the edge of the building, your blood freezing at the sound of a vehicle's tires against the wet pavement. You fall back, slamming against the wall in a panic to hide.
"There's a truck." Johnny says over the comm.
"Two men." He whispers moments later. You slide around the corner just enough to faintly see the men. Their voices clear as day.
"Any sign of 'em?" One of them asked, looking around.
You hide again, trying to calm your racing heartbeat and force your breathing down.
"Not yet. Check everywhere, assume they're alive and dangerous..." A second soldier replies.
"Let's hope not. That's a shitstorm we don't need." Comes the voice of the first.
"They were ordered to stand down and they didn't."
"I don't like where this is goin', man... It's not right. These are 141 guys..."
"They don't write their own rules..."
"Do we...? Who the fuck is in charge here?"
"Whoever signs our fuckin' checks, that's who." The first soldier replies again before going quiet.
You shudder out a breath, feeling your knee start to ache again. You move across the street and hide in the shadow of one of the buildings. The rain conceals your sublet movements.
"Graves is here." Johnny's voice comes. "Looks pissed. He's on my side but keep it low."
You slip into another house, stomach flipping at the sight of a woman pushed off her chair with a bullet in her head.
"Copy that." You mutter as you continue.
You searche the cupboards and stairs. More ammunition but no sign of a gun. With any luck you could take out a Shadow and steal his.
You look up at the sound of a far gunshot, sidearm at the ready.
"Graves and Shadow are on a killing spree."
You shudder. You could only imagine. You hear footsteps outside the home and voices. You duck under one of the windows and flick the blinds up just enough with your finger to see the same two Shadow soldiers passing by.
"Looking for Hassan." Ghost replies to Johnny.
"Hassan and us." You mutter. You reach for the door handle and gently open the front door. The two soldiers were still talking even as you approached their backsides.
Your heart pounds, fear drawing up through your chest and locking in your movements. You grab one man, your hand clasping over his mouth. The second soldier turning just as you shoot his partner through the back.
Before he could shoot you throw his dead partner's weight his way and shoot him in the face.
You get down in the rain, bare knees stinging on the tarmac. You rip open their vests, happy to find a much better gun at his hip and a stim in his vest.
"Fucking hell..."
"Keep in there Johnny. Just keep moving." You say, hands shaky as you use the stim.
"Advise both of you move interior if you're not already. It's good cover." Ghost says.
You stand from the shadows and work your way back over to their abandoned vehicle for cover. Over the hood of the car you can see Johnny slipping inside an open garage.
"Any luck?" You ask.
"No joy... Door's locked."
"Shit. New plan?" You slip over the hood of the car and give Johnny a thumbs up.
"Look for supplies- things you can make tools with. Welcome to guerrilla warfare..."
"I'm not liking it so far."
"You aren't supposed to."
"Thanks, lieutenant." You grumble. You turn to go around the opposite way Johnny went when you hear him shudder.
"Creepin'..."
"What are you seein'?" You ask, wondering if it was safe to move.
"A bloodbath." Johnny replies.
"Watch your arse.. You got exactly zero allies down there..."
"Cobra, get a move on. I have a feeling those Shadows around to come around again. Stick with Soap for the time being."
You slip around the hood of the truck. You run to where you'd seen Johnny and your eyes land on the sight before you, stomach churning again. Johnny is untangling a rope away from a man's feet who is already long deceased.
Johnny looks up when he sees you at six. "We're friends, no..?" You nod and come around to his side to inspect his work.
You start to look around the laundry room, looking for anything you were missing.
"Teammates Johnny. Friendships not in the field manual."
"Neither is mask making." You grin, finding an old ceiling fan and breaking off one of the blades.
Johnny couldn't help a small chuckle at your reply. He comes over to you with the rope and nods.
"Rope and a fan blade. Could work as a weapon??"
"I don't think so. Might gash someone's throat but in no way could do any other kind of damage."
You shrug. He was right.
"Tie off the blade with the rope and pry open the door." Ghost instructed.
"Sounds like you've done this before..." You hold on to the fan blade and follow Johnny back toward the garage.
"Years of practice..."
"Maybe when we get out of here you could actually teach us this stuff, no?"
"If you live that long."
"You think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks, starting to pry open the garage door.
"No." Ghost replies.
"As comforting as always lieutenant."
Johnny cracks the door open, the fan blade twists and bends, snapping once the door opens and the hinges of the lock crack.
"Busted the fan blade..." He mutters.
"Get you through the door?"
"Affirmative."
Johnny inspects the hallway and slowly moves in. You stay until he makes it inside and eventually, he motions you forward. And the two of you enter.
Johnny takes the lead ahead of you. You can't help but look at a few paintings down the hallway of a family. When you enter the living room you can hear loud voices.
Johnny arches to a stop, causing you to pause as well.
You can hear Graves yelling in the kitchen. Several Shadow men stalk around the area.
Johnny retreats from the living room and brings you back into the hallway. "We have to do something-" Johnny covers your mouth with his hand and stays in place.
You both listen to the shouting. You try to block it out. Your heart pounds away, fear making your shoulders up through your throat ice cold.
"Mama! ¡Mama! ¡Mama...!"
"Si tocas a mi familia, I will feed you to the fucking leonas! ¡Me escuchas!"
Your hand shoots up and grabs onto Johnny's bicep when you hear the gunshots. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try to keep focused.
Johnny looks as scared as you. His bottom lip trembles violently. The Shadows leave and move to another house to raid.
"Don't hurt my children... I'm begging you... Please..." A woman begs. In the distance, you can hear more yelling and gunshots.
A tear runs down your cheek. You dig into Johnny's skin, wanting to cry and scream. If Graves did anything, you'd kill him. Right here, right now.
Johnny looks into your eyes as a deafening silence continues. A moment of what felt like hours passes.
"Take the kid, get him out of here." Graves finally answers.
It relaxes you only slightly as the voices keep up. But you can't muster to listen anymore. No amount of training could rid you of the empathy that stung you on your job every day.
Johnny slowly pulls his hand away, his breath husky. "Come on." He whispers. You nod slowly and follow him toward the kitchen. You manage to sneak past the Shadows and up the stairs.
The smell of smoke hits you, but you dare not look, knowing what you'll find
Once in the hallway, You're able to relax scarcely. You step through the hallway after Johnny.
"God, this is awful." You shudder.
"Come on. Just gotta keep moving." Johnny replies.
"Lt. You good?"
"Peachy. How are you two coming along?"
Johnny bends down and picks up a headlamp off the floor. "Found a headlamp. Not too far from the previous owner either."
"Good. It can light your way but you risk attracting attention."
Johnny steps back into the hallway and motions you to the left while he checks the last room. You walk inside, blood stains on the carpet and chaos in the wake of Shadow men.
You shudder but continue searching the room. At this point, the aching in your body is the least of your concerns.
"Just keep moving..." You remind yourself under your breath.
"So, where do we go from here?"
"Think we'll get the green light to go after these guys?" Johnny says. You can hear him rummaging around in the other room.
"No more greenlights. We're on our own."
You frown. "What about Captain Price?"
"Price isn't here, is he...? The old man can't bail us out. Not this time."
Your eyes turn despaired at one of the bodies. You don't reply, but Ghost continues to talk.
"Alejandro you can trust. But, he's in Graves' custody. If he's even alive... Laswell's close with Shepherd. Callin' her's a no-go until we learn more."
You find a few more things around the room and turn to go. "I trust the Captain - if he knew, he'd be here."
"Be careful who you trust, Sergeant. People you know can hurt you the most."
"Good advice Lt..."
"I want to be like you when I grow up."
You move back into the hallway and find Johnny also exiting back into the hallway.
"You want to be better than me, sergeant."
You couldn't help a tiny smile.
"Got our work cut out then."
"That you do..."
"Think we'll live that long?" Johnny asks.
"Probably not."
You ignore Ghost's pessimism and continue on.
Johnny nods to the last door. You slowly approach it and twist the handle. "Locked." Johnny holds up a lock-picking contraption. You move back behind him so he can bust the door open.
The lock cracks and the door is forced open.
You enter the room, stopping when you see the caged dog. He barks when he sees you, forcing a retreat.
"Fuck-"
Johnny grabs your hand and tugs you out of the room and around the corner. You can hear a Shadow soldier yelling downstairs, footsteps tromping up the stairs.
You watch the door as the Shadow walks into the room. He positions his gun and investigations the room thoroughly.
"It's the dog from the bedroom. I don't see anything. I'll stick around, just in case..."
You look at Johnny who motions you to stay.
You settle into the shadow of the upstairs. You focus on maintaining your breathing. You don't know how long you were there. Felt like a bloody long time before the Shadow soldiers decided to pack his ass up and leave.
"Did you see the caged dog?" Johnny manages to ask over the comms.
"Big geezer. If he barks, shoot him and repo quickly- Don't get compromised..." Ghost responds.
"You are stone cold, Simon."
You follow Johnny, shuddering when you pass the room with the dog.
"hey Cobra. What has two legs and bleeds?
You walk back into the hallway and one of the rooms, finding a balcony.
"Don't tell me."
"Half a dog."
"I asked you not to tell me."
Johnny approaches the balcony and sees the streets below are clear. "Think you can jump with those legs?"
"Honestly no."
Johnny nods. "I'll do my best to catch you then."
You look down over the ledge as Johnny hops up and tumbles down to the ground. You can see two Shadow men at the end of the roadway Johnny is in.
The fall was well-timed and he manages to get back up from it. He looks down the road and then up at you. He reaches his arms out, his injured one shaking more than the other.
You take a deep breath. You force your slightly less battered leg up onto the ledge. Your hands grip it tightly, fear scouring through your body.
You know Johnny is going to do his best to catch you. Even if the odds of that aren't in your favor.
You let go of the ledge and drop to the ground. Johnny grabs your underarms just before your legs wack against the ground. You have to bite your tongue to halt the slu of profanities that passes your mind.
"Sorry- that wasn't my plan." Johnny winces.
Your eyes swell with tears. "I'm fine." You wheeze.
He helps you regain your balance, but you're within seconds of collapsing. "Are we almost there?"
"Gimme a sit-rep." Ghost's voice crackles back over the comms.
"Outside... Gated alley." Johnny checks on you once last time before reaching for his gun.
"Stick to the edges and stay low."
"Copy."
You follow Johnny to the corner, wincing when your leg bends and you stumble into the wall.
"You ok?"
You nod to Johnny and urge him forward.
"What exactly do we get from this?" You wheeze again.
"You may get a brag rag for this..." Ghost replies monotonously.
"A medal?"
"Chest candy." He restates.
You scoff. "Dead Shadows are my medals."
Johnny reaches the back of the road just as the two Shadows walk off.
"Split up?"
Johnny shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you battered. You can barely walk."
"You doubt my abilities."
"I doubt your legs." He holds out his hand. "Stick with me, we get out alive. We find Ghost. Together."
You grabbed his hand and he led you forward. "Together."
"Church is on the north side of the city. I've set up a sniper position in the church tower. Find your way there, and you might just make it."
"We're on it Lt."
Johnny moves forward into the open yard. He stops by the wall of a building. You can see another group of Shadows.
"Fucking hell." You mutter.
"Graves is rounding up cops."
Johnny reaches out his arm to hold you back. Graves comes out of one of the houses, and you both watch the scene before you. You watch the Shadows murder one civilian after the other. Firing gunshot after gunshot.
"He's judge, jury, and executioner now."
Your hands quiver and pulse across your gun.
You look down and find a bottle in the street. "Johnny." You whisper and hold it up for him to see.
"A bottle. Good for a distraction. Could prove useful."
You continue to search around for a moment until Johnny hums. "Got it."
"Commandeered some wax, LT."
"Could prove useful..." Ghost reiterates.
You make eye contact again and you nod. You were ready.
Johnny looks and motions toward the water fountain in the middle of the street.
You slip out from the corner. You can't help but try and rush when you hear Graves yelling, followed by another gunshot.
And another.
You skid to a stop at the fountain and duck down behind it. You clutch your gun tightly and motion Johnny over. He comes around the corner and rushes across the open street.
He ducks down next to you and looks around. Two soldiers were standing by the perimeter of the street.
You try to still your breathing and keep Johnny from moving forward when you hear them talking.
"I got too much respect for these guys to go to guns unless they do." The first one says, his back turned toward you two.
"I bet we'd come out on top of that fight." The second one snarks.
"I don't wanna test my skills against 141."
"What are you thinkin'?"
"We should white flag this thing and talk or everyone's gonna end up dead."
"You gettin' scared, dude?"
" I'm not fuckin' scared, bro. I'm not stupid either. Any movement over there? It's quiet here... Narcos got outta Dodge. It's not them I'm worried about anyway..."
"I thought you said you're not scared."
"I'm worried, worried is different than scared..."
Johnny taps your arm and motions to a nearby crate. "Stay here."
You nod and continue to hold your position as he sneaks out just enough to reach the box.
"Same fuckin' thing..." The second Shadow replies when you turn your attention back on the conversation.
"No, it's not, it's not the same thing at all..."
"I'm telling you right now, don't let these guys get in your head..."
"So, you're tellin' me you see that big boy with the skullface, and you're not gonna start sweatin'?" The first Shadow sasses.
"I'm not gonna see him--"
"You're right, you won't see him. It's too late if you see him, you're fuckin' dead already."
You chuckle. "I think they're scared of you, Ghost." You whisper into your comm.
The radio crackles, but Ghost doesn't reply.
Johnny returns to your position and smiles. "Found a mouse trap."
"And this is good news because..?"
"Surpisingly useful as a trigger."
You look from the mousetrap to the bottle and start to catch on to his plan.
"It's no airstrike, but it'll do." He smirks.
"You both are doing good. Just keep moving. The longer you sit there the more chances you have of being killed."
You looked at Johnny. "Copy that Lt." You huff.
You looked into Johnny's eyes, and he can tell you are starting to give out. Your energy is fading, and you kind of liked the sound of staying there.
Johnny takes your hand and clutches it tightly. "Stay with me, soldier. Come on. Only a little longer and we can rest."
"Johnny I'm tired."
"I know, I'm going to get us out of here-" Johnny presses down on his comm. "Ghost, Cobra is fading, we need your oversight."
"I've got you Johnny. You're clear."
"Y/n."
Your ears ring when he says your name. You groan, trying to keep quiet.
"Y/n, you need to keep walking. Just keep walking, I'll get you both out of here, can you do that for me?"
Tears filled your eyes. "Yes sir."
"Good. I've got your backs, Johnny, use what you've found to conjure a distraction."
"I'm already on it Lt."
Johnny readjusts the bottle and throws it at the Shadows blocking your path. You scuff your boots and shove them under you to swing upward.
The Shadows look up, rushing to check the sound of the bottle smashing against the brick wall.
Johnny pulls your arms, and you both sneak down the overshadowed alleyway.
Your vision swims and goes fuzzy again. Your hand unclasps from Johnny's, and his silhouette fades into the darkness. You slump back to your knees, resting against the side of the building.
"Lieutenant..." Your thumb quivers, unable to keep the comm open to talk.
"I'm right here sergeant. You'll be ok, keep moving. I know you can do it."
"Tired..."
"Where is Johnny?"
You look up. You try to clear your head. Your insides swim with bile, and it makes the hooks of your jaw fuzzy. Your throat forces down saliva you don't want to swallow.
The shadows move, and there is Johnny. He rushes back over to you and crouches. "We've gotta go come on."
You grab onto him, unsure of where your feet are going, but you stand during the process.
Johnny guides you. His eyes soften again, and he slows down so you can slouch against him to take away some of the pain from your ankles.
"We're so close." He says.
You shake your head of the dizzy feeling and muster yourself up.
Johnny brings you to the end of the street and lays you up against the wall. You draw your gun into your lap and watch Johnny hunt the street for material.
"Found some chemicals." He says into his comm.
"Tie them up with some wax and you got a smoke bomb. A toxic distraction."
"Sick... I like it."
"Guarantee you they won't..."
"How is Cobra doing?" Ghost asks a minute later.
"Solid. Hanging on."
Johnny finds a roll of tape just a bit further from the chemicals. "I can use that later." You watch Johnny as he starts to make an explosive contraption.
You rise to your feet. Your knees shake but you manage to keep yourself up. You come to Johnny's back and could see he was making a bomb of sorts.
Eventually, he tucks it into his bag. He motions across the street and you follow him into another house. When entering you see a Shadow slammed up against the wall of the room, dead.
"Woah."
Johnny comes over and examines the knife stuck in his throat. "Looks like Ghost's handiwork." You mutter. "Missing a knife Lt?"
"Several."
"Think we found one."
"Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork..."
"You came through here?" You ask.
"On my way to the church."
"And you left us?" You frown.
"I'm used to working alone."
"So much for no man left behind." Johnny grumbles.
You pull the knife from the Shadows' throat and clean the blood on your vest pocket. You can probably use it for something. Might as well return them to him.
"Just get yourself to the church. Tryin' to keep you alive and get you here in one piece. One of us needs to survive to tell the tale."
"It'll probably be you." You reply.
Johnny motions you forward and the two of you search the house. Everything is in shambles, barely put together, and a mess in every sense.
Johnny moves into the living room and chuckles. "Seek and ye shall find..."
"Whatcha got?" You perk up curiously and walk over to him where he was currently strapping a briefcase to his person.
"Black powder..."
"Nice. This could get interesting..."
Johnny nods and the two of you set off. Johnny moves up the stairway while you search the kitchen. Under the cupboard there are a few chemicals you see fit to take with you.
"So..." You open your comm.
"What if we don't get out?"
Ghost hums. "If you mean all three of us die. We die. Price has to learn of this himself, three of his best soldiers dead and barely a task force left. You know. No pressure or anything."
"And what if you get out alive?"
"Then I'm going for safety, regrouping with Price. Then I'm finding Alejandro and Graves."
"Good plan."
"If you want to be in on it you might want to keep moving sergeant."
"Copy that Lt."
Johnny tromps back down the stairs and shakes his head. Nothing much.
"Lt, about to play rough with the Shadows..." You slip toward the back door, hands shaking and rough.
"I like the sound 'o that." Ghost replies.
"Fashioned a trip mine..." Johnny adds.
"A man after my own heart..."
"That's a scary thought." You mutter.
"You learn fast, Y/n."
You slip the back door open and find a lone Shadow standing guard. From your vest pocket, you pull out Ghost's knife and grip it in your hand.
Johnny nods, and you slip forward. You buckle your hand over the Shadow's mouth and drive the knife up into his back. His body strangles and freezes before going limp and falling to the ground.
"That knife came in handy."
"You're welcome."
"I ain't thanking you lieutenant." You chuckle and slip the blade back into your vest.
You search the Shadow's vest and are lucky enough to find a pistol. "Found a gun."
"Good work. Moving up in the world. Choose your shots and targets wisely. Guns make noise."
"Copy Lt."
Johnny stares down at the dead Shadow a moment longer. You hear a noise down the road and your eyes shoot up as another Shadow walks your way.
"Fuck, come on MacTavish." You grab his hand and pull him out of the street and around the corner. You make ten paces before you're stopping again, faced with another group of conversing Shadows.
"I wanna find those English motherfuckers. That asshole with the mask and the other leprechaun." The first one says.
"Leprechaun's-they're Irish, I told you that." The second one responds.
"Right. One o' those dudes with the skirts."
"It's called a kilt."
"It's a dude in a dress, that's all I know..."
"Uh huh. What about the third one? Smart ass little sergeant got away."
"They're 141, what do you expect? Wimps?"
"Just want to get my hands on that one. Slimy as a frog. An agile thing."
Johnny scoffs. He prepares his bomb from behind you and doesn't waste his time throwing it in their direction. "Lot o' slime." He mutters.
The smoke bomb hits the ground and alerts the Shadows. Before you know it Johnny is taking off toward one of the alleys.
"Fuck-"
Gunfire rains down on you, forcing you from your position. The gunfire strays you out into the street and down a separate roadway. You slam yourself around the corner and down against the wall. You clench your teeth, fresh blood trickling down your arm.
Your left hand is shaking violently, unable to hold your weapons.
You slouch against the wall, breathing ragged and body gushing blood.
"Cobra!? What's your position!" Johnny finally asks worriedly through the comms. You huff, raising your hand to respond. "Solid... But hit."
"Shit. My bad." Johnny apologizes.
"All good." You reply.
You slowly stand, pressing your weight into the wall until you manage to recover yourself.
"Feeling weak, are you?"
"bit shaky, sir, yeah." You roll your neck, pain shooting up your spine.
"Graves tried to kill us. Would stand to reason if you were a little off. Find a stim- It'll give you a boost"
"I just want out of this alive."
"We'll get you out alive then."
"So you do like me?"
"I like you both alive."
"Fair enough."
You traverse through the roadway and sidetrack into a garage linked to a building.
"Found a stim." Johnny says over comm.
"Use it. I'm out of luck." You push your way through the door, hissing at the use of your hurt arm.
"Elbow is going numb."
"Find a stim."
"I'm trying to find anything I can." You reply.
Johnny and Ghost maintain contact while you slip through the house and scavenge for anything you can take to keep the Shadows off you.
You find only one speckle of useful items like chemicals, which are more useful in Johnny's hands.
"Y/n.. Graves is burning the midnight oil to find us... Why...?" Ghost asks.
You frown. "He's involved. Both Sheppard and Graves are involved."
"No matter what- this is an unprecedented amount of fuckery. We need to get to the bottom of it." Johnny adds.
"Accurate and deadly fire tends to resolve these things. Right now, we're not safe here."
"Right now... we're not safe anywhere, Lt." You break into another room, combing through as you go. You sneak out the backdoor and find yourself faced with Shadow soldiers.
You manage to slip past as they talk and into the next house.
You find a small storage room and your heart sinks when you find a civilian laying dead next to a toolkit. "Son of the damn devil." You whisper.
You walk through the rest of the house. Chairs and dreary wallpaper, everything a normal family would need.
You jump when you hear banging thunder against one of the doors. You grab your knife as you approach the door and swing it open.
But just as you do, the wounded civilian on the other side falls to his knees. His eyes look up at you in pain and fear before he's gone.
You swallow the sick feeling in your mouth and step over him and press forward.
"I'm in the coffee shop." You sit rep.
"Get us a tea."
You roll your eyes. "Fuckin' Brits. You'll owe me for this you know?"
"Why?"
"We're all fixing each other's problems."
"And what's my problem?"
"The mask," You whine.
"Take it off." Johnny joins, making you smile.
"Show my face?"
"Yes, sir. Ain't nothing wrong with that."
"Negative."
You pout. Finally, you find a stim case on the counter, along with some other trinkets. You jab it into your arm and feel slight relief from the adrenaline.
There's a briefcase sitting on the table. You open it only to find more explosives and an aiming sight. Not much use to you.
You grab the briefcase and hang on to it, just in case Johnny can use it.
"Are you ugly?" Johnny continues.
"Quite the opposite." Ghost replies.
"I doubt that."
Johnny chuckles, and Ghost disappears from the comms. You switch your channel to just Johnny, "I think we bullied him."
"Aw, poor Lt."
You search behind the shop counter. "He does owe us when we get back, though."
"That's for fucking sure. This would go a lot smoother if we were all together."
You push another door open, looking around and finding nothing.
"You know, maybe a vacation could do us good??"
"Vacation? The hell are you on about."
"The Bahamas are sounding really nice right about now."
"Ghost is allergic to the sun."
You chuckle. You hear the door of the coffee shop open. You're at the ready, slipping back out of the room, only to see Johnny.
"Scared me for a minute."
"Figured out where the coffee shop was."
You hold out the briefcase and smile. "Figured you could use this." You look down and see the gun in his hand. "And where did you find that?"
"Tripwire. House just down the road."
Johnny takes the case of explosives and secures the sight onto his gun.
"Have you checked everything?"
"No, just the first door."
You both head for the office door, to no surprise it's locked.
Johnny hums and pulls out a couple of tools from his belt. "Give this a try."
You take a step back as he slots the tool in the door and force it open.
"Nice skills there Soap."
He winks and allows you in first. A couple filing cabinets, a desk, and a safe. You approach the safe. "Is there a code around here??"
Johnny inspects the room, looking under papers and books. His attention soon turned to the calendar up on the wall. With a suspicious number of dates circled. "That looks interesting."
"Give it a go?"
Johnny nods, so you punch in the numbers, your eyes widening when it works. "On the money."
You open the safe and search inside. Throwing knives, money...
"Oh ho ho."
Johnny raises a brow. "What??"
"Hand held .50 cal...? You're coming with me..."
Johnny gapes. "What!? No way, I want that one."
You frown. "No way, you have the big guy." You motion briefly to the Lockwood in his hands. "This one, is mine."
Johnny sputters but ultimately huffs and shuts up.
You switch your radio to the clear channel again. "Ghost."
"Y/n..."
"Guess what I found?"
"More stopping power?"
"Check."
Johnny huffs, making his way back out of the room and you follow close behind.
"Your life expectancy just went way up."
"Thank you!"
"Not yet sergeant. It's still your job to keep you alive."
"Thanks Lt. Really helping us out here."
Johnny approaches the window to take a look outside. "Uh oh, looks like we're gonna have company."
You look up, seeing the Shadows advancing outside. "What do we do?"
"We can fight?"
"Took risky." You reply.
"That's three less Shadows on our tail."
You chew your lip, trying to make a decision.
"You two, check out that warehouse." The Shadow says.
Johnny grabs your arm and pulls you down next to him. "Guess we're fighting it out." You clock your gun.
"Let's get it over and done with."
"You make it sound like we're doing chores." You retort.
"They've got no guns, he won't get far." A second Shadow says, much closer than before.
"They're 141... Still dangerous. Go left, I'll clear the alley."
"Roger, on it."
Johnny sneaks around the edge of the bar, motioning you to follow him. You crawl quickly on your hands and knees, barely out of sight before the door to the shop opens.
Boots crackle wetly along the tile ground. You steady your breath as the Shadow enters, followed by another.
"Ya here? Not too late to surrender..." The Shadow calls out.
You look at Johnny who is readying himself.
Your comm crackles and you freeze.
"Sergeant, how are we doing?" Ghost asks.
Your eyes widen.
The Shadows snap and round the corner, ammo loaded.
You roll to your feet and slam the closest one to you against the wall, the barrel of your gun against his jaw and soon a bullet in his brain. Johnny tussles with the other one before managing to overpower him and stabbing him in the throat.
You both run for the backdoor and run out into the street. Johnny slips down the alleyway toward the third Shadow and slices him clean through the back with his knife.
"Come on."
You break for it down the alley and across the street.
"Come on. A bit further."
You huff. You pant. Your legs buckle and you slam down to the ground.
Blood leaks from your wounds and washes away in the street. Your breathing is heavy and you're feeling dizzy again. And a sick lightheaded feeling bounces around in the confines of your skull.
"Come on sergeant. We're almost there."
You shake your head. "I can't. Tired."
Johnny bends down and pulls you up into his arms. You're eyes focus on him briefly before he's just another blur out of reach.
His cold hand cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. "Come on. Come on you're doing So good. I know you can keep moving. I know you can!"
You press your hand to your stomach, feeling bile rise in your chest. Johnny's eyes fade in and out, his figure blending with the shadows.
"Ghost. Cobra isn't doing well."
You huff and heave. Your eyes swell with tears.
Johnny can see it coming and he slowly moves you out of his arms and down to the ground.
Your vision fades in and out.
"What's the sergeants condition?" Ghost asks.
Johnny smooths his hands over your arms. He checks your vest for any kind of medical supplies. Worry bubbling when he finds nothing to bandage you with. "Not good. I'm not sure what's going on-"
"Alright Johnny. Flip y/n over, get the sergeant on their hands and knees."
"No-!" You wheezed. "Hurt."
Johnny scavenges his person for medical supplies, finding nothing.
"Shit. Y/n, come here. I've got you."
You dry heave, your chest flares up, and your cheeks flush.
Johnny helps to flip you over and rubs your back. "It's ok. You're doing well keeping up."
You feel bile rise in your throat. The burn follows before bile forces it's way out from your stomach. Your insides churning and twisting.
Bile spills into the street and burns your dry, sore throat. Blood spills into the mess and slips into one of the storm drains.
When your stomach finally settles enough to suck in air.
Your shaking arms fold in, giving Johnny barely a second to pull you back into the safety of his arms. The rain is starting to get to you. Plastering your shirt to your skin and your hair damp against your forehead.
"Lt. We need to get going." Johnny comms. Much more concerned than before.
You curl into his cold embrace. Tired and sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body.
"Johnny... town's full o' tunnels. One leads out across from the church. Be advised- the tunnel is flooded. Prepare for a cold swim."
Johnny winces as he pulls you up to your feet. Your head hangs, fighting for consciousness as he pulls you onto his shoulder.
"Hang on Y/n, I'm getting us home."
"Home..."
"Yeah. We're going home. It'll be warm. You can curl up in a blanket and relax. You just gotta hang on alright?"
"Can't wait."
"I know. But try."
"Still upright?" Ghost asks after a minute of walking.
"So far, so good. Can't say the same for Y/n though."
"You get caught out there, they'll kill you slow..."
"Mercs or the Narcos?"
"Narcos... They'll take videos..."
"I'll give 'em your email so they know where to send them..." Johnny opens another house door and slips inside.
"I won't watch 'em... More than once anyway..."
"Sick bastard..."
Johnny places you down by the stairs and cups your cheek. "How are we doing?"
Blood still drips from your mouth, and it's starting to trickle from your nose as well. All you can manage is a weak smile.
Johnny leaves you there while he searches the place. He searches the kitchen, the living room, and the garage. You're left unaided in silence.
"You still standing, Y/n?"
"Think I'm clear..." You can barely reply.
"Soap- you makin' progress?"
Johnny hums from the other room. "Aye. Gettin' there..."
You watch the blood trickling down your arm. Your vision briefly blurs again, but you blink it away.
"Hey sergeant." Your comm. Crackles again.
"Two goldfish are in a tank...?"
You shift gently, still holding your angry stomach. "Go on..."
Ghost replies immediately. "One turns to the other and says... "You know how to drive this thing?" Little army humor."
"Very little." You reply. But you can hear in his voice he's trying to hold back a chuckle. It's a comforting thought to think that wherever Ghost is, he's smiling.
Johnny gives you a nod when he comes back from the living room and walks up the stairs to check the second floor.
"Another?"
You clasp and unclasp your cold fingers. "Why not..."
"Why don't blind guys skydive?"
"Tell me."
"Scares the shit out o' their dogs..."
You crack a small smile.
"We could do this all night."
"That's what I'm afraid of." You respond.
Johnny comes back down the stairs and showed you the new weapon on his hip. "Found a safe upstairs. Had some snazzy stuff inside."
You attempt to stand with him but your body doesnt make it far.
Johnny quickly comes to your side and helps you up. "Don't worry. I'll keep us moving. Think you can hop on my back?"
You nod and stand against the wall as Johnny bends over. It's an uncomfortable fit against the protective vest, but it's better than being hauled over his shoulder.
He left through the front door and walked back out into the rain.
"Hey Ghost..." You croak.
"What is it, sergeant?" Ghost's voice seems a slight bit softer. Maybe it's the delirium or the rain, but he sounds comforting.
"I gotta joke for you..."
"Let's hear it then."
You close your eyes, your breathing slowing. Johnny looks back over his shoulder at you and pats your thigh.
"Why don't shrimps share?"
"Why?"
"Because they're a little shellfish."
"Not bad." Ghost replies. Even Johnny manages to crack a smile.
Johnny stops under a small overhang and opens the door. Warm light welcomes you inside the scuffed up bar.
"Lt- I'm at the bar."
"You like tequila?"
"Could use one right about now," Johnny replies, looking around for things.
"I'd murder for a whiskey."
"You mean Scotch?"
"I drink bourbon."
"Like a good ol' boy..."
Ghost sighs. "I love Kentucky."
"You're out o' your mind, Lt."
"That's for sure."
Johnny pats your thigh. "Hang in there sergeant." You cling to him as best you can, relying on their voices. Both their voices help you focus on the task ahead of you.
Johnny pushes outside of the bar and finds his way to the tunnels.
"Lt. I've got a problem."
"What's your situation, Johnny?"
"Reached the tunnel. Not sure how I'm gonna get y/n through with me." Johnny helps you off his back and sets you down.
"How are you feeling Y/n?"
You hold onto his hand. "Can't quite feel my legs."
"Ghost, is there any other way?"
"I'm afraid not. If you've got any more stims get the sergeant boosted."
Johnny holds your hand and motions to the tunnel. "We've gotta go for a swim."
"I don't think I can-"
"I'm not leaving you out here. We're so close. I just need you to push through just one last time. Can you do this, for us?"
You swallow hard. "I'll try."
"Good. Come on."
Johnny grabs your hand and helps you up. Your feet are numb, but it at least rids off the pain in your legs.
You hold Johnny's hands tightly as you enter the tunnel. You gasp as you walk into the water, eventually unable to touch the ground. The cold water washes up your waist and over your shoulder blades. It laps at your wounds and soothes them slightly. Johnny looks back at you to check if you're ok, and you nod.
You move your arms despite the pain in your left arm and swim slowly through the tunnel.
"You're doing good." Johnny praises over breaths of his own exhaustion.
"Ghost."
"Johnny."
"We're working through the tunnel."
"The church plaza is on the other end of the tunnel. Push through, you're nearly here."
The reassurance of safety fuels your need to keep going. You fight and push through the cold water. Your fingers start freezing up, and your legs can barely move. You grab onto the hook of Johnny's tactical gear just so you can keep up.
Johnny slows along the water line when he spots a group of Shadows on patrol. "Alright, we're gonna take this slow." You nod and follow Johnny toward the water line.
"Where the hell are they?!" The first Shadow grumbles.
"Maybe, all three of them are dead?" The second asks.
"Graves wants proof."
"Just cut the mask off." The second one says.
"Do I get a bonus for that...?"
"Not if I beat you to it."
Johnny slips up the side of the watered tunnel. You follow and try not to disturb the water as you go.
"I'll kill the Irish one." The first Shadow growls.
"The kid's Scottish, not Irish." The second one sighs.
"It's the same fuckin' thing...!"
Johnny stops along the wall and reaches for his knife.
"Ghost, I got Shadows wearing body armor."
"You'll have to get in close and find the gaps."
"Rog."
Johnny grips his knife and looks at you. You fiddle with your knife and follow him. "I'll take left." He whispers. You nod and turn to the Shadow on the right.
"Again, what about the other one? Graves isn't to happy the other sergeant jumped from the truck." The first one readjusts his gun.
"Kill them. What else? I highly doubt they made it far after that fall."
You look over at Johnny, who slips out of the shadows. He nods to you, and you rush the Shadows'. You grab the Shadow's shoulder and slot your knife in the break of armor by his neck. You dig the blade into the crook of his neck and slice open the skin.
Blood spurts out across your hand and uniform. His body falls back into yours. You lean into the action and throw him back into the flooded tunnel.
Your vision blurs again, but you shake it off quickly.
"Good job." Johnny says.
You both head for the end of the tunnel and your heart swells. "Johnny... The church!" Johnny smiles in relief.
"Ghost. We've got eyes on the church."
"Good. You're on the right track. Keep comin'.
Johnny motions you forward and runs out of the tunnel and out into the street.
The rain has let up, but not by much. It's easier to see your surroundings now. You both run until you are cut off by a blockade of vehicles lining the street. "Shit." Johnny curses. "Lt. We're blocked off."
"Try and cut through the shops."
Johnny looks from left to right.
You look around with him, finding an alleyway next to the shops. "There." You point.
Johnny looks to where you're pointing and smiles. "Good eyes. Come on, let's go."
Johnny rushes toward the alleyway. You stumbled after him. You swallow down your ragged breath, your will to survive momentarily pushing out the pain still searing through your body.
You shivered in the cold, completely drenched.
Your breath evaporates out from your lungs, and into the air. You push through, the fear of Johnny's back getting smaller, and his silhouette being swallowed up by the night keeping you going.
Johnny ducks into the alleyway. "Think we found a way through Lt."
"Shadows are everywhere. I'll hold 'em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil."
"Roger that."
"Give 'em hell, Johnny- We're almost there. Keep on your feet Y/n, you're doing good."
"Yes sir." You rasp.
Johnny turns back to you and cups your hand in his. You lean against the wall and close your eyes. You can hear Johnny struggling with the door to get inside.
Your breathing slows and the lightheaded feeling returns.
The door opens and Johnny gasps. "Fuck-!"
You open your eyes just as Johnny receives the butt end of a Shadow's gun and is thrown to the ground. You reach for your knife too late, and the Shadow hits you in the back of the knees and sends you down to the ground.
The side of your head hits the ground, and blood rushes through your ears. Your vision goes fuzzy, and everything blurs and spins. Johnny fades in and out beside you, and the swirl of colors that is Johnny shifts.
"What the... GET DOWN-! All Shadow stations, Got two near the church-!" The Shadow soldier yells.
Ringing vibrates around your head. The blood dripping from your nose onto the road is the only thing you can listen to.
Time seems to freeze an eternity before you hear the Shadow's comm. crackle.
Graves' voice was loud and clear. His voice is cold as ice against your body.
"Kill them."
Bang!
A gunshot rings through the air, and the Shadow above you suddenly falls limply to the ground. Across the barbwire fence of the church rush more Shadow troops, those of which are taken down by a bigger silhouette.
Johnny sits up and shoves the Shadow away with his foot.
"Holy hell... Ghost- was that you?"
"Who else...? Now go..."
Johnny gets up and grabbed
your arms. "Come on y/n, let's go."
Your vision spins, your stomach flipping and spiraling. Your head lolls as Johnny pulls on you, a bullet whistling past your head as he pulls you inside.
Johnny slams the door shut and cups your cheek. "Oh my- you're bleeding so much. Fucking hell."
You try to focus your eyes on Johnny. Your hand comes up to the side of your head, feeling sticky warmth against your temple. You pull your fingers away and red stains your fingertips.
"Ghost. Leaking blood. Badly. What are our options??" Johnny leans you against the wall and checks for anything he could use to stop the blood.
"Johnny, got company in the church, and they're not here for forgiveness...! Get to the steps, I'll be there..."
Johnny curses. "Get on my back!"
"Soap..."
"Get on my back!"
You grab onto his shoulders, and he pulls you up onto his back.
Johnny cocks his gun and opens the shop door.
Gunfire rains across the area, whizzing by your bodies. "Give me a bloody break." He heaves you further up into his arms and makes a break for it across the yard.
Shadow soldiers converge on the church. Johnny smiles when he reaches the entrance of the church.
"Ghost!"
"Johnny!"
Ghost shoots two approaching Shadows and climbs up and over the gate of the church.
Ghost comes into your field of view, his gloved hand cups your injured head. "How are we hanging in soldier?"
"Not good. They're barely hanging on." Johnny replies for you. Ghost nods. "Come on, I'll take them." Johnny stands up and you slide easily into Ghost's arms. "Holding strong sergeant."
You cling to his back and hug him tightly. "Come on! Let's go."
"We need a vehicle, on me-! Stay sharp, they know we're here and they know it's us. They'll send more." Ghost's voice rumbles through his chest and warms your insides.
It's beyond relieving to see your lieutenant again. You aren't in the clear yet, but his presence brings safety.
More Shadows appear from the alleyway and charge your group.
"Contact-! Dead ahead!"
"I see 'em. Watch the alley!"
Johnny shoots the Shadows dead and continue their run through the streets.
"How are we doing Y/n?"
"Still alive..." You groan.
"Keep it that way! You're doing good!" He praises.
Johnny and Simon continue down the road. "Johnny, stay close. Heads up for a vehicle we can take."
Bullets whistle past you. The yelling of soldiers struggling to get their targets on the three of you overpowers your senses. Your vision slowly returns, and you're able to regrip Ghost's tactical vest.
"Soap, pick up truck ahead. lights on."
"I got it!" Johnny replies.
"I'll drive, Johnny- take shotgun."
Ghost stops at the backseat and flings the door open. "Hold steady soldier!" He releases you and lays you in the backseat."
"Now, Johnny, passenger side of the truck- mount up!"
Johnny jumps in.
"Alright, you two, you made it..."
You give a shaky thumbs-up, making Ghost chuckle.
"We made it Lt."
Bullets ping into the metal of the pickup truck as Shadows throw you three under heavy fire.
"Hold fast...!" Ghost puts the truck in reverse and runs over two Shadows firing at you.
"That's one way o' doin' it!"
Johnny spots a Shadow to the left of Ghost out the window just as you do.
"Get back!"
The Shadow drops dead to the ground, more soldiers falling into the street and firing at you.
"Thanks." Ghost says.
A bullet whistles through the back window, shattering the glass just above your head. "Shit-!" You gasp.
"Drive- I'll cover us!" Johnny yells.
Ghost slams on the pedal and drives the truck straight into the gate ahead. He takes off down the road and doesn't attempt to stop.
Johnny sits back in his seat and sighs. "Bloody hell..."
"You made it out..." Ghost says.
"I'm proud of both of you." He flips the rearview mirror down to see your face. "Just hang in a little longer partner. We're gonna get you patched up good as new.
"I feel like shit." You groan.
Your blood leaks out on the seat, and your wet clothes grow uncomfortable. Ghost eventually pulls over on the side of the road and gets out.
"We've got a bit of time if they've been following us." He opens the back seat and motions you forward.
"Bloody hell, Johnny wasn't kiddin', you did destroy your knees." Ghost ran his thumb over them and you tense.
"I'm sure Alejandro has something that can patch you up."
"Alejandro..?" You clench your teeth.
"Yeah, for now," Ghost pulls out some bandage wraps from his pouch. "Johnny hand me that tourniquet on your vest."
"My what-?" Johnny looks down and checks his vest surprised. "I didn't even- blind as bloody blind person..." He hands over the tourniquet.
Ghost pulls off your tactical gear and throws it on the other seat. You shiver, and his hand is there to comfort you.
"We'll be out of this soon."
He wraps both your knees and your head enough to get you through. "Arm." He instructs. You motion to your wounded arm and he wraps the tourniquet around it tightly.
"That'll keep you from bleeding all over the seats."
"Thank you lieutenant." You whisper. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."
Ghost bends down, and for a moment, his eyes soften and something is let out. A glimpse of love and concern. "You did amazing, sergeant."
He helps your legs back into the truck and closes the door. "Now, let's get somewhere safe."
"Got an idea, Lt?"
"I might. Yeah."
392 notes · View notes
scifrey · 4 months
Note
you requested more Keepsakes prompts, and I have to say, I LOVE the way you write Eleanor. perhaps some little scene from her married life with Hob? general domestic bliss? or something less blissful, like getting into their first bad argument and figuring out how to deal with it?
alternatively, Hob and Morpheus go on holiday and Morph is very bad at taking vacations...
xo @hardly-an-escape
Oooooooooh. What an excellent prompt. Thank you!
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Keepsakes: A Kissing Bough
Fandom: The Sandman Series: Hob Adherent Series Rating: Slightly Spicy. Please curate your experience accordingly. Pairing: Hob/Eleanor
Hob and his wife have been charged with finishing the decorations before Christmas Morning and the start of the Twelvetide celebrations.
Eleanor's parents call her 'Nell' at home. It is a common enough diminutive for Eleanor, as common as 'Hob' had been in the mid 1400s, when it seemed that every Robert he met went by it.
The problem is, Hob didn't know that was her nickname. They'd been married eleven months, and he'd been calling her 'El' the whole time.
But how was he to know? The Giffords only ever called her Eleanor in public, and called him the full 'Sir Gadlen' or, 'my son-in-law', even after his marrying into the family.
No friendly "Robert-my-boy!"s from Master Gifford as Hob had secretly hoped for, as his own father had once chortled while thumping him playfully on the shoulder. The man still resented Hob for his lack of old-family connections, for all that he'd mellowed toward Hob after seeing how seriously Hob took his duties as Husband and Father. And where Master Gifford led, his wife dutifully, dolefully followed. 
Not even a nice cordial "Robb dear" from Mistress Gifford in all those months.
So it is quite a surprise when, after the elder Mistress Gifford's after-supper lamp had finally burned down, and she declares her old eyes too weary to continue her needlework by firelight alone, she calls Eleanor 'Nell'.
Her husband had gone straight to bed after their meager supper, grumbling heartily about the privations of the Advent fast and how a morning of eggy pies and the Twelvetide feasts could not come fast enough.
With no husband to chivvy along before her, Mistress Gifford rises from her stately chair by the hearth in the Great Hall, and bestows each of the three Gadlens arrayed on the piled furs on the floor before it a fond kiss on the forehead. One to Hob, who helps steady her with a gentle hand on her elbow as she stoops, her own hand on his shoulder, to offer the kindness. Then one for her daughter, sat opposite him. And the last to her grandson, dozing with all the abandon of a small creature who knows that it is utterly safe and utterly loved, in his moses basket beside Hob's knee.
 As she kisses them, she murmurs, "Happy Christmas Robb, Nell, my wee little Redbreast."
"Nell?" Hob asks, as soon as his mother-in-law has creaked her way out of the room. "Why have you not told me you are called Nell?"
"It is grim," she pouts. "It sounds very much like knell , wouldn't you say?" This is accompanied by a theatrical shudder that makes her bosom jiggle, and so burns its way into Hob's memories for that alone. "Death knell."
"Ah, never mind that. Death's a mug's game," Hob says, and cups her fire-warmed cheeks in his palms to bestow his own kisses on his wife. "I'm never going to die, so you shall never need ring out for me." Eleanor giggles as he digs his fingers into her hips for leverage, and scoots her closer to him, so he can bury his face against the pleasing softness of her neck. "Though you may keen in other ways for me, should you like."
"Hob!" El laughs. "Pray, do not leave a mark , we have to sit at the top table with my father in the morn—"
He had promised El that he would tell her his secret when they'd been married forty years, but here, sitting by the fire in the Great Hall, surrounded by warmth and plenty, the proof of his devotion to this life wheezing out the sweetest little snores a babe could make, he was tempted to break that oath and confess all.
There was something about the Twelvetide that encouraged confession, even now as a Protestant celebration, without a confessional to be had in a Catholic church.
"Enough," El gasps at length, pink-cheeked and panting prettily. "We have work to do, and if you wake Robyn I will be very cross with you."
The elder Giffords had left their daughter and son-in-law, with their youthful energy, to finish the kissing boughs before Christmas morning. It was well on midnight now, the feeble light from the rush-tapers dwindling and the fire in the big stone hearth beginning to fade to nothing but toasty-red coal. It was just the right sort of fire for toast.
Hob says as much.
"It is always one appetite or another with you," El huffs with a roll of her eyes, but rises. "I shall go to the kitchen, but I will share not a morsel with you when I return if these last boughs are not woven when I return. And do not throw the remaining greenery into the fire to make it look like you finished, Robert Gadlen," she scolds, catching him thinking that very thing. "There are to be twelve Crowns of Green, and I know how to count."
Hob plucks the hem of her skirt off the furs, and brings it to his lips for a revenant kiss. "As my Queen commands." 
She frees herself with a smirk and an imperious tug, and sways away to the kitchen.
"There, Robyn my lad," Hob says to his son, who has opened his dark eyes just long enough to take in the spectacle of Hob's oath. "That is how you keep your wife happy. Learn the art from me, my fine wee apprentice, and you will make of me a very indulgent and biddable grandfather in no time at all."
Robyn smacks his lips, clearly unimpressed with his father's training, and returns to sleep.
Hob is in the process of tying off the ribbons of the final garland when El returns with a napkin bundle consisting of a fresh bottle of wine, an old loaf of bread, and a tiny pot of new butter. 
Hob prefers old butter, likes the tangy burst of salt on his tongue, and his darling wife knows this. As such, she has also nicked one of the leftover bundles of sea salt that are meant to be gifts for her father's servants at his annual St. Stephan's feast, so Hob can powder his toast as he likes.
This is what love is, he muses, as he cuts them slices of bread with his belt-knife, and El retrieves the toasting forks from their hook by the hearth. Old bread, and stolen salt, a sneaky taste of butter before the advent fast is officially over, and a babe sleeping with his little milk-pout mouth gaping open like a little boor.
As Hob threads the bread onto the fork tines, and holds them carefully over the coals, El busies herself by tidying up the leftover sprigs of greenery. Bringing the winter growth indoors to remind the world that no winter lasts forever, that life persists and waited under the snow even now, is a tradition older than Hob himself.
He's seen Twelvetide traditions come and go, but this one persists, as immutable and comforting as knowing that in a year ending with eighty-nine, Hob's Stranger will be waiting for him.
It is nice to be younger than something.
El bundles her posy of leftover holly and mistletoe, finishing it with a crimson-red ribbon, then stands and dangles it over his head to coax a kiss out of Hob. He leans back against her legs, tips his chin up obligingly, and lets her fold down to meet him.
"If you continue to distract me, I will burn the toast, dearest wife," Hob murmurs into her mouth.
"That would be a waste," El agrees. She releases Hob to his duties, but does not relinquish the posy.
They eat toast, and brush away the crumbs and butter grease on the napkin, and share the bottle of wine between them, and laugh, and whisper in hushed voices. El holds the posy over the moses basket, and they kiss Robyn's fat cheeks. She dangles it over her head, and Hob kisses her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the dear swell of her chin. She loops the ribbon on his belt, and takes him in her mouth. When he has come to his pleasure with his fist jammed in his own mouth to prevent waking the baby, he hooks the posy on her belt and breaks his fast in the cool darkness before the dawn.
In all, they have quite a splendid Christmas morning indeed.
Like her mother before her, El chivvies her boys up to bed before the night grows too light. Robyn wakes long enough to whimper for his own break of fast, and Hob cuddles El up between his legs on the bed so he can hook his chin over her shoulder and watch Robyn's eyelashes flutter as he drinks his fill.
Morning will come soon enough.
The Christmas cake would be served to mark the official end of Advent, Hob's father-in-law would get his eggy pie, and they would all go to church so Eleanor could show off her new son to her old parish. The days of the Saints would be filled with acts of charity, feasting, dancing and delight. Someone would find the Bean in the Bread and be named the Lord of Misrule, and they would play silly games, and drink too much, and wrestle, and jest, and sing. On the Twelveth Night, Hob would gift his wife with the handsome leather-bound notation book he'd commissioned for her, a place for her to record her favorite composition. To Robyn, who was too young to know what presents and Twelvetide were, he would gift a handsome toy duck he'd spent the Advent carving. It had slappy leather feet attached to little wheels with hobnails, which clattered and flapped when one towed it along on a string.
And then the decorations will be removed from the house in order to preserve the good luck accrued through the Twelvetide, and the Gadlens would bid the Giffords a Happy New Year, and tromp home to their estate on the unfashionable south bank. Hob would review the profits for the year with Mr. Fletcher, his steward, and visit his warehouses with a gift of ale and an afternoon's leisure for his dockworkers, and come Candlemas, he'd join his groundsmen in rolling up their sleeves and readying the fields to feed the estate anew on Plough Monday.
But for now, Hob will keep his peace.
Christmas is not a time for such a confession as the one that teased at him.
"Dearest Nell," he says. "Darling Nell. My sweet call to ruination."
"No, no, you brute, stop calling me that," she gasps as he wriggled the three of them down into a comfortable nest of feathered pillows and thick wool blankets.
"My ruin?" Hob asks, mouth resting against her nape as Robyn stretched and unlatched, offering his fist to his father now that his tummy is full and he is ready to be spoiled in other ways.
Eleanor rolls over to hand the baby to Hob to wind.
"That name, you wretched, wretched man," she complains, burying herself into his side as he pats Robyn's bottom obligingly. "Call me Nell again and I shall really make you regret it."
"If that is your command, my queen, my wife, my Eleanor." He kisses her crown, her forehead, her shoulder with each oath. "Sweet El."
He expects her to reply to him with haughty teasing, but when she does not, he shifts Robyn out of the way to look at her face. She is already asleep.
"You see, my wee lad?" Hob whispers to his son. "That is how it is done."
Robyn spits up on his shoulder to show his appreciation for the lesson.
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sashaisready · 28 days
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The Blood Pact: Chapter 15 - I love you
Bucky Barnes Vampire AU x Female Reader
Reeling from a bad break-up, you're desperately trying to find a new place to live but the Brooklyn rental market is a complete nightmare. You take a chance on an intriguing newspaper ad and enquire about a room in a shared house, where you'd be living with two mysterious men. The catch is that they want something other than your money for you to pay the rent...the one thing they don't have
Series Masterlist
Chapter 16
Arghhh here we go! Warnings here for violence/severe injury/bleeding/physical fighting/death. We have one more chapter to go after this. Hope you enjoy (if that's the right word??) As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
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Of course you didn’t make it very far to the door before Rumlow tackled you, pushing you to the ground with such force that it winded you. You wheezed and gasped as he trapped you underneath his weight, chuckling to himself.
“C’mon angel, you know better than most that you can’t outrun us”.
The adrenaline hit you and you began to wriggle beneath him, your fists managing to land a few blows as you kicked and struggled. You knew you didn’t stand much of a chance, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him – you weren’t going down without a fight.
He continued to laugh hollowly but you could see from his face that it bothered him, particularly when your nails made contact with his cheek and you scratched a decent line into him. He growled and clutched your wrists, pinning them above your head.
“Don’t get me wrong sugar, I like them to have a bit of fight in ‘em. Gets me going when they squirm and try their luck. But you’re going to stop that unless you want to hurt yourself”.
You glared at him defiantly, hatred seeping through every pore. You were terrified but mainly you were angry, furious at him for daring to touch you, for hiding in your private space and defiling where you felt safest. You watched him silently, and just when he thought you were docile you hocked a wad of spit into his face. You smiled with satisfaction as he wiped his eye, his disgust evident as his mouth curled in anger.
He struck you between the eyes with his fist and you winced as the pain radiated through your skull. You managed to stifle a whimper, not wanting him to give him the upper hand, continuing your stoic glare as your forehead pulsed.
“See? You don’t play nice, I don’t play nice” he snarled.
“What do you want?” you demanded, trying to ignore the sweat pooling at the back of your neck. “Why are you in here? Get off me. You’ve had your fun. You need to leave”.
“You’re not being a very good hostess” he laughed, looking down at you mockingly. “I’m here as a guest, and I haven’t been fed. Surely you know what comes next?”
Your stomach dropped, but your mask remained intact. He must’ve hidden in here after everyone left and Steve and Bucky went to sleep.
“I thought you didn’t eat humans” you managed to croak out.
He shrugged. “Not always. Trying to be ‘civilised’ like your boyfriend, and his boyfriend. But I’m afraid prepacked bags just don’t hit the spot anymore, y’know? Even familiars when it's straight from the artery - they’re just too damn eager.  It’s like eating the blandest meal every day, and I’m hungry for something else. Something I’ve chased. Something I’ve caught. There’s nothing quite like a real meal, an authentic meal, princess. Nothing tastes quite like fear does”.
You watched him, desperately pondering your next move. Your fear was manageable if you concentrated on problem solving instead. If you could just get to the shades and open them, get the sun in here…Was there anything in your room you could use as a stake? A leg from your desk or chair maybe? But he wouldn’t let you up long enough to try that. Could you even get a leg off? Would you even have the physical strength to drive it through his chest? You weren’t Buffy. Could you trick him somehow? If you could just wake up Steve and Bucky…but how? They slept like the dead. They were dead. You’d never managed to wake them during the day…But if you could maybe just…
“Besides…” he continued, his breathing heavy. “I have been thinking about this pretty face since I saw you in the park”.
His icy finger ran from your chin up your cheek, tickling over your nose. You winced at his touch, rolling your head away from him. You felt your limbs begin to tremble with fear, doing your best to steady them.
“Looks like Barnes has certainly been enjoying his cute little blood bag” he said menacingly, his clumsy hand brushing over the small puncture wounds on your neck.
You twisted yourself into the floor trying to move away from his fingers. It felt wrong for him to touch such an intimate area, to dare intrude on your private intimacy with Bucky. Revulsion rolled in your stomach.
“We’re friends after all, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing…”
You cried out in disgust as he leaned over you, his tongue sloppily licking at your neck as you flinched and attempted to push him off. He hummed with satisfaction.
“Oh yeah…I’m gonna enjoy this” he muttered as he bared his fangs.
“Wait!” you cried out. “Like you just said - Bucky is your friend…Steve is your friend. You really think they’re going to be okay with you hurting me like this?
It wasn’t much, but maybe you could try talk him out of it. 
He shrugged. “Eh. Friend is a strong word. More like acquaintances really…”
He smiled down at you again, now baring his fangs and you knew your time was running out.
“H-how are you going to get out?” you sputtered. “The sun is up. You can’t leave. They’ll catch you in here when they wake…they’ll know what you did. They won’t like it”.
That seemed to give him pause. He considered your words for a moment, the tiniest hint of concern crossing his expression.
“If you stop…I’ll let you stay in here. You can sleep” you babbled. “Then I’ll let you out when the sun’s down. If they catch you leaving I’ll just tell them you got lost on your way out last night and fell asleep in here. Nobody has to know. We’ll just put this behind us…”
Bucky definitely wouldn’t believe that version of events. He’d instantly know something was up. Steve would probably catch on too. But Rumlow didn’t need to know that…
He mulled over your bargain. You could now see from his reluctant face that the thought of inciting Bucky’s (and Steve’s) wrath irked him somewhat. Here you were giving him an out, it wasn’t too late. Clearly he was tempted by your proposition.
Just when you thought he might be listening, his contemplative expression morphed into a predatory smirk and his fangs appeared once more. Your heart sank and your eyes widened with fear.
“I think I’m just going to try my luck” he growled. “I’m much faster and stronger after a decent breakfast, so I’ll take my chances”.
You yelped and shrieked as you tried your hardest to get away, but it was fruitless. You did everything you could to try and kick out, writhing and attempting to free your hands, uttering curses at him and calling him all manner of awful names, screaming out for Bucky, for Steve - anything to stop him or at least slow him down, but all to no avail. Your cries echoed throughout the otherwise silent house.
As he lined up his mouth with your neck you stared up desperately at the cord to the window shades just a few feet away. If you could just grab it, pull them open and reveal the sun – you’d be okay…
The sting of the bite was worse than you expected. You had done it hundreds of times with Bucky and Steve, but this was different. Pain took over you entirely as you let out a cry of despair, it felt like your neck was on fire as you felt the skin break and the initial blood leak from you. There was none of their tenderness or care, none of their compassion. This felt more like you were a farm animal lined up at the slaughterhouse.
Rumlow lapped at you greedily, uttering squelching noises of contentment which made you sick to your stomach. Your were rigid with fear and tension, every hair on your body standing on end as your squeezed your eyes shut and tried to imagine yourself somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“That’s enough” you feebly whispered after a few minutes, your weak hand reaching up to try and bat him away. “You’ve had enough. You don’t need any more”.
He stopped fleetingly and looked down at you, your stolen blood framing his mouth grotesquely and elevating his smile to become something even more sinister.
“Oh angel, I’m not stopping” he laughed cruelly as he wiped his lip. “Your boy toy might make do with a few ounces but that’s not enough for me…”
He looked into your eyes, seemingly enjoying the fear staring back at him.
“I’m gonna drain you, princess” he said menacingly as he moved back to the open wound. “Empty this blood bag. Every. Last. Drop”.
The surge of terror was mercifully quick at least, as the fog finally hit you seconds later and he fed once more. It was nothing like Bucky’s, of course. Nothing like Steve’s either. But it was welcomed, a calming anaesthetic which left you numb and absorbed the pain and the fear. Your body slackened as you became dizzy, you felt like you were dreaming – your limbs suddenly too hefty to move. But you weren’t scared. You weren’t anything.
At least it would be over soon.
It was hard to think clearly now. Difficult to make much out. You wondered if you should be doing something, fighting maybe? Even through your haze you knew this was wrong. Bad. You should be panicking, struggling. But you couldn't muster the strength to do anything but lay there. You could feel your life force melting away as you became weaker, and weaker…
Your eyes fluttered close and there was one coherent thought amongst the cloud.
Bucky.
Oh, Bucky. You were so sorry. So sorry that you weren’t strong enough. But you can’t win every fight, can you? He knew that better than anyone. He’d spent most of his life fighting. There’s always the victor and the loser. Eventually we all lose. You hoped that he would know you fought, that you tried. It wasn’t enough but you fought as best you could. You went down swinging, you didn’t go quietly. You didn’t blame him for any of this, you hoped he knew that too. The time you’d spent with him had been the happiest of your life. You loved him. you loved him. How sorry you were that you’d never told him, how foolish that was. You should have told him the minute you knew. You’d wasted so much time with the silly fights and squabbles. You’d do it all differently if you had your time again. You loved him. You loved him.
You didn’t realise that you’d started to repeat his name over and over, a quiet prayer filling the room and helping to drown out the unholy noises from elsewhere. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.
Time to go now, time at last for peace. It would be quiet at least. Bucky.
Bucky, Bucky.
Goodnight, my darling.
The noise as you slipped away was deafening. You could never have imagined how loud it would be. Why was it loud? Wasn’t it meant to be peaceful when you went? Not the sound of screaming. Not the sound of splintering wood and heavy feet racing across floorboards.
The pressure suddenly left your neck and your eyes fluttered open. It was a swirl of colours and shapes around you, a blur, a mass of shadows. You tried to focus but it was hard to see. Your hand moved to your neck and you felt the wetness of blood on your fingers. It was all so loud. Had you gone? Was this it?
No. You were still on the floor of your bedroom. You reached out and felt the solidness of the boards under your body to be sure. Just what was that noise?
You turned towards the source of the chaos. It was over by your bed, two figures. Was it two? They seemed to be…rolling. Fighting. They were yelling. One was roaring, his fists pummelling mercilessly into the other.
Then as if the lens on a camera suddenly focused, you could see it all. You were back in the room. It was Bucky atop of Rumlow, he looked animalistic, his face contorted in rage. He was striking Rumlow over and over, the sounds of his fist connecting with muscle and bone made a sickening thwack. You see the blood splashing onto the floor beneath.
Bucky?
How did he get here? Was this a dream? Or a final hallucination as you laid unconscious?
Bucky stopped and glanced over at you as Rumlow groaned and stirred beneath him. His eyes were full of fear as he took you in, the sheer panic on his face telling you everything you needed to know about how you must look.
But there would be time for Bucky. You needed to eliminate the problem first. The haze had suddenly lifted and everything was crystal clear. You knew what needed to be done.
With your last ounce of strength you shakily moved up onto your knees, Bucky was crying out and telling you to be still. You ignored him, shuffling weakly over to the window. You felt like your legs each weighed a ton, your muscles screaming in pain as you dared to move your body. But you pushed through, hobbling on your hands and knees as a surge of adrenaline gave you a final boost. You pressed yourself against the wall to support your weight and then wrapped your hand around the shade cord. You looked over at Bucky, then your eyes darted to the en-suite door and back to him once more. He swallowed with apprehension but nodded, and before your knew it he had soared past – disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Rumlow was left behind, nothing but whimpering mess trying to crawl away.
"Goodbye, you piece of shit" you snarled over at him. 
The second you knew Bucky was safe you allowed your shaking legs to give out and your body slumped against the wall. The motion meant the cord came with you and the shades shot up to their hilt, allowing the room to fill with brilliant sunlight. You had never been so happy to see the sun, and you’d never take it for granted again.
Rumlow never saw it coming. The sun enveloped him and the screaming started. TV taught you that killing vampires meant they would instantly turn into a neat pile of dust, but Rumlow immolated. Flames swept over him and he screeched in agony as he burned and burned. It was far more brutal than you could have ever imagined. You couldn’t look away, frozen in horror as you watched him writhe and convulse. The smell was overpowering with a sickening sweet tang which was vomit inducing. You gagged and choked, your free hand covering your mouth. His face melted away, losing any recognition of anything vaguely human.
Thankfully it stopped shortly afterwards, the flames gently subsided and you were left with nothing but a pile of his scorched bones in the middle of your bedroom – a charred, black ring stained the floor and perfectly circled his remains.
You could faintly hear Bucky shouting to you from behind the bathroom door but your mind was too fuzzy to fully make it out. You’d done it, you’d won. You smiled to yourself, taking a second to revel in your victory. Then the surge adrenaline of vanished as fatigue flooded you once again. The pain radiated deeply, it felt like your body was switching itself off piece by piece. All you wanted to do was sleep. Just for a little while. Your hand let go of the cord you had been clinging onto for dear life as you finally slumped to the ground. The shades fluttered as they slammed down, taking the day with them.
You leaned your head against the wall as you heard the bathroom door rip open and furious footsteps zipped over to you. Cold hands cupped your face as your eyes slipped close and everything went quiet. He was trying to say something to you but you couldn’t hear him, the darkness was coming thick and fast and you couldn’t stop it. He shook you to try keep you awake and you limply reached up, curling a weak finger around the hand which framed your cheek.
“I love you, Bucky” you managed to whisper.
And then finally…sleep.
Peace.
At least you’d got to tell him.
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shipperholic-me · 3 months
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Some thoughts about ep 8:
1. The flower cloth was so that he could recognize her on the cameras T________T THIS BOY IS SO PRECIOUS
2. Her mom has to be okay. Please writers.
3. Honestly Yong Pil i so precious. The daily flyers to get Sam Dal to apply for the photo competition.
4. And the fact that he managed to convince her to do it????
5. Lolololol Sang Do finally setting the record straight, saying he went to Seoul with Sam-Pil couple and the ajhumma telling him he should read the room and not third wheel. I was wheezing.
6. Also just Sang Do trying so hard. He is a sweetheart but he has zero chance with Sam Dal and i think he knows that deep down. It makes me sad for him. Curious to see how his part in this story unfolds.
7. I think I say this every episode but the relationship between Sam Dal and Yong Pil is just so amazingly written.
8. That epilogue crushed me. I was sobbing so hard.
9. That flashback from 8 years ago of Yong Pil crying at the door, begging his dad.....stab me in the heart already.
10. So is this all because Yong Pil's dad blames Sam Dal's mom her his wife's death? Very keen to know more about this whole dynamic. They used to be closest of friends.
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i’m going to be okay || adam stanheight
tw: death, dying, the bathroom trap, saw typical violence mentioned
implied xreader (he mentions a partner/Y/N in his thoughts)
this is my first time posting any of my writing online so like that's cool? Filled with fear about it actually. anyway this little bit about Adam's thoughts when Amanda went back for him would not get out of my brain so. here?
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Dark.
It’s so, so dark.
Adam can barely remember what it was like not to be in the dark, it feels like his life is disconnected to this.
Nothing seems to connect to the way he’s “living” now. His stomach has long since stopped hurting, thank God, but the emptiness is still there. His mouth has never felt this dry. His ankle is red raw from pulling at that chain.
The smell of the rotting body next to him has been driving him nuts.
If Adam thinks on it too long, he starts to get scared of himself. He never thought he was capable of… That. Not really.
He can’t count how long he’s been here, he has no way of knowing- he tried to count sleeps, but it gets harder every second to tell if his eyes are closed or not.
“When I get home, I’m leaving the lights on,” turned to “If I get home, I’m leaving the lights on,”
And eventually, it turned to “God, am I ever going home? Ever gonna get to see light?”
When Adam’s tired, weak eyes opened to the half lidded maximum he can manage now, for a second he didn’t believe it.
Light?
A torch?
SOMEONE.
His body would’ve shaken and crumbled if he tried to move, he knows that, so when the torch light beams straight into his ailing face he blinks as much as he can. It’s all he can do. The only way he can think to tell whoever it is that he’s alive.
He tries to talk but nothing comes out.
Maybe now he can go home. Maybe he’s saved. Maybe Lawrence sent someone.
Lawrence didn’t lie.
I can call Mom back. I can see my family. I can see Scott. I can see my partner.
Lawrence didn’t lie.
The person with the torch steps closer, and Adam tries so, so hard to keep himself conscious.
I can sleep in a real bed- I can sleep holding Y/N. Y/N would keep me safe, right? Yeah, they would. Y/N'd protect me. I can see them again, God, I can see them again.
Lawrence didn’t lie.
I can see the sun, again. What season is it now? Is it still fall? Would there be snow now?
"Adam? ...Adam?" The voice whispers, and it's definitely not Lawrence but that's fine because someone came and they're going to help.
Adam feels her put a hand near his face, and every ounce of energy in his exhausted body goes into moving his head- making some sort of sound (all he can muster is a wheeze).
I can go anywhere but this room. Anywhere that doesnt feel like this... Heavy. Dank. Dark.
Lawrence didn’t lie. He didn’t leave me here for dead. I’m going to be okay. He’s back, or he sent someone- I’m going to be okay!
The person is moving him now, his lungs swell with a buzzy, relieved feeling.
"I'm gonna help you,'"
Oh, thank God- I’m going t-
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prettysoftyellow · 3 months
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Imagine Crowley leaving the bookshop one day, after him and Azi had some kind of arguement about their affiliation to hell and heaven, and Crowley was so mad that he went straight to the next church and graveyard he could find and started cursing out a Gabriel statue at some poor lads grave and out of nowhere the statue starts speaking to him. The demon obviously has a heartattack because he thinks it's the real Gabriel. But instead the statue starts laughing and the laugh sounds just so beautiful to Crowley. It's loud and kind of hard, not soft how some take angel laughs as, and then the laugh turns into a wheezing. All in all to most it's probably not a nice sounding laugh, more like rough and ugly but to Crowley. To the demon it sounds like the nebulas he created. Just pure perfection. And that's the moment he realises that this wasn't the loser Gabriel like he had thought but his handsome angel. Aziraphale, who was running right after the dark duke of hell just to allow himself a little fun as a way to apologize for fighting. Together they leave the graveyard and visit Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death to have some tea and a 6 shot espresso...
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satansapostle6 · 2 months
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The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan
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Spotify Playlist Link
Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.
Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven: Self-Righteous Suicide
Katherine had never actually feared death before the way she did that day. Her life had never really been in that much danger before, as at least six different guns fired bullets at her and Luke. No matter how angry she was with him for getting them into that particular situation, she still somehow found herself relieved that his back was to hers as they fought the bullets as hard as they could with nothing but swords.
It was reprehensible and beyond fucked up, but they both came to realize then that that was what their life had become: the two of them against the world, even if they were against each other at times.
“Katherine!” Luke Castellan cried out in fear for her life, and not even his own, as she tried to defend herself against the gunfire.
She fought as hard as she could, her sword slashing about wildly as one of the officers tried to move in closer, despite the fear that all the others felt due to the unexplainable invincibility of these two older teenagers. Luke took a bullet that grazed him in his left shoulder, gasping in agony as he fought through the pain the way he’d learned to.
He walked straight up to one of the armed officers, slugging him as hard as he could with his good arm, making sure he was out of commission. There were two bodies on the floor, both still breathing for now as Luke and Katherine fended for themselves.
Luke held his double blade by the handle in the center, whipping the sword around as he used the steel blade to violently slash off the entire head of the male officer that had tried to hurt Katherine. Luke looked right at her in front of him, throwing the sword in her direction as she deflected the bullets aimed at her. She looked up at the blade desperately, reaching for it as she impaled the officer closest to her, a woman with brown hair.
Katherine somehow knew looking into her eyes as she died that she had children. She saw the panic in her eyes, as the blade went all the way through her stomach. But Katherine’s gaze hardened as she realized she felt nothing, even pulling the blade out, a loud and grotesque squishing sound filling the air as another spray of crimson blood hit the floor.
Maybe ten feet away from her, Luke had gotten ahold of a police-issued gun, an empty look in his eyes as he shot the other two point-blank, execution style. Breathing hard as he looked over to Katherine, he said nothing as he watched her drop his sword, a mess of blood all over her shirt, and jeans, and hands. It took him a moment to realize that there was way too much blood on her shirt.
He watched in horror as she touched a hand to the area just below her rib cage, blood coming through the bullet holes in the shirt as she dropped to the ground.
“Katherine?!” Luke yelled, rushing to her side as she only wheezed in pain. “Katherine!”
He quickly folded her shirt up, yelling in terror as he saw the seven different bullet wounds, four of which in an area that seemed dangerously close to he figured where one of her kidneys would be.
“Luke,” she croaked out, fighting against the pain.
“No, no, don’t talk,” he sobbed, panicking as he tried to think of what to do, “Shhhhhhh…”
Luke Castellan genuinely didn’t know what to do. He knew how to deal with deep gashes and make tourniquets, but this was beyond that. This was four bullet wounds to the kidney. Even a demigod couldn’t escape that. Demigods weren’t immortal. Luke screamed as he realized that she would probably die.
“I’m… Not gonna make it,” Katherine coughed.
He had no idea how she was still breathing, let alone talking. Katherine had been shot seven times, four times in the kidney, twice in the back, and once in the forearm. She should have been knocked out. She should have been dead. The only thing that saved her had been her demigod strength, the power of being the daughter of Nemesis. But even then, her luck was running out.
“No, you’re gonna be okay!” Luke cried without thinking. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna live!” he babbled, talking through sobs.
“No…”
Her eyes were starting to shut, and he panicked.
“No! No! Stay awake!” he begged her, slapping her awake. “Stay with me… Please!” he wheezed.
“I don’t want… you to be mad at me,” Katherine murmured hoarsely.
“I’m not mad!” he yelled, desperate for her to hear him. “I’m not mad anymore! Katherine, please?!”
He was met with silence, and he could feel the internal panic as he lifted her up in his arms, trying to wake her. He screamed and yelled unintelligibly as her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he held her lower to the ground, panicking.
“No! Katherine… Katherine please don’t die!” Luke sobbed. “Please!”
His bloody fingers moved quickly to the artery in her neck, unable to remain still enough to detect a pulse. Like cried uncontrollably as he panicked, tortured by the fact that, in that moment, he didn’t know whether she was alive or not.
“Please! Katherine…” he wheezed. “No…”
She was unresponsive, nothing more than a rag doll in his arms. He held her close to his chest, sobbing like a child as he tried to bring her back.
“Katherine!” he pleaded. “God! Kronos! Hermes?!”
That, he realized, was his last hope in that moment. His father, the absent god who had never once lifted a finger to help him before. Luke hated him, but now, he needed something more. He prayed desperately and without dignity to the god of travelers, merchants, thieves, and healers, hoping for a miracle. He’d never had hope when it came to Hermes, but now, it was better that than nothing.
Luke Castellan wailed and begged, shakily holding Katherine’s limp body in his hands as he prayed for someone, anyone to help him. He shut his eyes fearfully as the reality of Katherine being close to dead slowly began to set in. He wailed like a child, tears falling like a violent rain. He couldn’t see a thing, but as he began to look up over all the carnage, he saw another pair of shoes standing before him: a pair of winged Converse.
His eyes widened, and he looked up, finding he was kneeling before the god he’d forsaken.
“Hermes,” he choked, seeing the miracle before his eyes.
“My son,” the god in the brown-haired man’s body stood before him.
Hermes had recognized Luke as his son, but did not sound prideful at all. Instead, he sounded cold, and disappointed.
“I told you it would all end in blood,” the man before him said, as if shaking his head at a small child.
“You didn’t tell me anything!” Luke sobbed. “I asked you.. I begged you to tell me my fate, and you refused!” he boomed hatefully.
“And now, you’ve got a glimpse,” Hermes spoke softly. “Funny how things work.”
Luke glared up at his father in shock. “You mean this isn’t how it ends?” he asked spitefully. “I don’t plunge my sword into myself and land on top of Katherine?” he demanded.
“No, son. This is… Only the beginning,” Hermes concluded, looking down at the bodies on the floor. “This is merely the moment all this carnage, all this blood, becomes you.”
“Heal her body,” Luke begged him, kneeling forcibly before his cursed creator. “Save her.”
“I can’t do that, Luke.”
“Why?! Is she already dead?!” he cried in agony.
“No. She’s still breathing. For now,” Hermes stated grimly, as if he were already attending the funeral.
“Then why won’t you save her?!”
“Because. I’m not allowed,” the messenger god informed him. “The Fates have their plan… I can’t interfere. They won’t like that.”
“Who gives a fuck about the fates?! Bring her back!” Luke screamed at his father.
“I told you I can’t, Luke. I can’t do that,” Hermes repeated. “The Fates have their plan for you. And between us, I think they’re angry with you.”
“For what?!” he hissed. “What did I do?!”
“I don’t understand how they think, son,” Hermes responded, sounding almost regretful. “I’m just the messenger.”
And just like that, in a light shower of golden shimmer, the god disappeared as his shoes allowed him to fly.
“Hermes!” Luke growled, searching for him. “Dad?!”
He was already gone.
“Kronos! Anyone!” he begged, his voice a harsh yell. “I know you’re listening!”
Luke looked up at the ceiling as he held Katherine’s unconscious body in his arms, her demigod strength the only reason she wasn’t completely dead yet. He breathed in and out, panting aggressively.
“Someone… Give me Katherine back! I beg of you!” he hissed. “I’ll do anything! Anything at all, I’ll offer you my soul, I’ll offer you eternity! I don’t care what it is, just bring her back to me! Please!”
He looked up at nothing as he silently begged someone to answer his prayers to no one and everyone. He whispered softly as he held Katherine close to his chest, promising himself he’d save her.
“I don’t care what it takes, you’re gonna make it back to me,” he whispered. “You’re not gonna die…”
His thought was interrupted by a strange voice, one that was actually painful to hear. Kronos. His voice was loud but quiet, shrill but deep, a whisper but a yell. It resonated like thunder. He looked up again in a panic as the titan’s voice overtook him.
“You can have her back,” Kronos whispered into his mind, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear.
“What?!” Luke yelled over the voice in his head.
“The one you love. She’s your world, isn’t she?”
“Yes!” Luke exclaimed, relieved. “Yes! She is!”
“Not good enough!” the voice shrieked, paining his ears.
Luke covered his ears with his hands, but he was unable to escape the pain.
“She stands in the way of your devotion to the titans, the true gods!”
“No!” Luke protested. “No…! She serves you too! Doesn’t she?! She wants you to rule just like I do!”
“Yes, but your devotion pales in comparison to hers! You’re weak! A child!” Kronos snarled.
“No!”
There was a long silence, as Luke carried her in his arms, praying Kronos would revive her. There was a long moment of consternation before he finally got his answer.
“You can have your Katherine back… But you’ll find, in the end, it’ll cost you two souls,” the father of the gods declared.
“Yes!” Luke cries, realizing he’d saved Katherine. “Yes! Thank you! Thank you, Lord Kronos!”
He looked around him as the world seemed to slowly calibrate on its own to a better moment in time. It was afternoon, and then nighttime, and then morning again. The people and the police cars and the ambulance all disappeared. Time had been manipulated for their benefit, and to his relief, Katherine’s eyes opened as she jumped to her feet as quickly as she could.
Luke looked at her with the utmost relief as she slowly looked around the room and then back at him, remembering exactly what it was they had done.
-
Chapter Twelve
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backtraf · 2 months
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Chapter 2
Adam walked as slowly as he dared, trying as hard as he could to not draw the attention of the sinners around him. The streets were lined with bars and casinos, trying to entice anyone who would look to come in and endulge. He had always been the gambling type himself, but this had been the first time his gamble had gone sideways. Now he was dead... again, and desperate to not be the center of anyone's ire. He had, after all, attacked this place only... yesterday? Shit he didn't know for sure.
It felt like he had died only yesterday, but he didn't know how death worked exactly. None of the angels did. When someone died, a divine judgment that they had no part in decided where people went and when. Fuck, for all he knew, it could have been weeks ago that he died.
In his contemplation, he failed to notice the loud shouting coming from the bar he was passing. Someone crashed through the window and flew into him, sending them both to the ground. Adam groaned and tried to get his arms underneath him to push himself up, but before he could, he was hoisted off the ground. Of course, he unwillingly got involved in a bar fight.
His unknown assailant suddenly threw a punch straight into his stomach, and he doubled over, the air being forced from his lungs. He gasped, trying to get his lungs to stop seizing from the shock only for someone to punch him in the face. Pain blossomed on his cheek, and he collapsed back to the ground. His convulsing lungs finally started to allow air back into them, and he tried to roll to the side to avoid a foot stomping down onto him. But of course, someone else decided that he truly needed a beating today and kicked him square in his back.
Adam yelled out in pain and tried to prepare himself for another attack, but none came. The fight was still going on, however, if the noise was anything to go by. His attacker had turned their attention to other patrons of the bar, and the scuffle was getting quickly out of hand. He crawled away as quickly as he could and hid in a nearby alleyway, waiting until the fighting subsided before he went back out.
His back and ribs ached with a pain he hadn't experienced in a long time. Even as an angel, the pain had only been a minor background feeling, a wonderful gift from being a soul of heaven. His lungs still struggled to catch a full breath, and he was sure he was going to bruise pretty badly.
"Fuck... I feel human again... maybe worse..." Adam wheezed and clenched his eyes shut, trying to ride out the pain.
He must have passed out at some point because when he opened his eyes again, it was dark, and the sound of fighting had long since stopped. With a groan, he pushed himself to a standing position and gasped. The pain was somehow worse now that he was standing, but he knew he couldn't stay here.
Coming out of the alley, he looked towards the direction he had been traveling and saw the hotel standing proud. Pushing himself away from the bar, which had patrons laughing inside, the window still shattered from the early scuffle, he made his way past it. He could feel the stares of a few people as he walked, fear that they would recognize him, making him lower his head. But no one stopped him or tried to attack him.
The trek continued to feel like it was taking forever, his panic that he would be caught and killed ever rising in his chest. When he finally made it to the doors of the hotel, he wondered if he could just walk right in, but he felt that would be an immediate death sentence. Instead, with a lowered head and his pride left where he had died, he raised his hand and knocked.
Dread filled his heart when he heard the staticy radio voice from the other side of the door. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll get the door!"
When the door opened, he saw Alastor, his wide smile and knowing eyes. The Radio Demon grinning maliciously at the sight of the fallen angel.
"Ah, hello, Adam~." Alastor stepped outside and closed the door behind him, his hand reaching into his coat and pulling out an angel steel dagger. "I've been expecting you."
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the-blind-assassin-12 · 7 months
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If This One Wasn't Enough
1200 words for 1200 followers #9
A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This one is *technically* a free-standing one shot... but that doesn't mean that I don't have plans to connect it to an existing Ezra series, so take that as you will. ;)
Warnings: mention of character death and lots of angst... but with a hopeful ending
Requested by: @valkblue Song: How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful Character Choice: Ezra. Thank you so much for this, Angie! This song always makes me think of Ezra, so I was thrilled to see you request it. I hope you like the direction I took it in... and where I left it for now.
Summary: Ezra's last job on the Green goes sideways, leaving him unsure if he'll be able to make it back to you. But you're not willing to accept that you may never see him again.
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He isn’t here. 
The thought enters your mind before the shuttle even touches down on Delphon, eyes closed and hope retreating further into the corners of your heart. The captain is well trained and has a steady hand with the directional stick. You barely even feel the gear contacting the hard ground beneath it. But the realization that you’ve reached another dead end rumbles through you as the rest of the passengers offer a round of applause for the feather-light landing. You busy your hands with your bag and prepare to disembark. There’s nothing for you to celebrate. 
If he isn’t here then I’m wasting time. 
You can’t explain how you know you’re in the wrong place before you’ve even set foot on the street. You suppose if you had to, you would say it feels like something is missing - like an emptiness that gapes wider with every step you take. One that echoes with the last words you heard him speak. 
“Maybe I’ll see you in another life, Moonbeam. This one might not be enough.” 
They came through the long-range comm speakers, speckled with static, his breathing shaky. You had been in orbit around the Pug, waiting for his return from Bahkroma Green, so at first you didn’t understand. It was just supposed to be one last Aurelac run before the two of you set out in your Satellite Cruiser in search of a new orbit to call home. He’d even told you to stay behind because it was, in his words, “a job so creamy nothing could crust it up.” 
“What? What do you mean, Ezra? Did you miss the slingback? I can come to you and-” 
“No. Do not come to the Green. It’s not safe. I am -” A weak, wheezing cough came through to swallow up the rest of his words. 
“Where? Where are you, Ezra? Ezra?!” 
That was all you were able to get out before a storm of white noise filled your ears and the connection was lost - and the emptiness began forming in your chest. 
Three standard weeks had passed, and you’d spent every waking moment trying to find him. You weren’t willing to wait for another life to see him again. Not while you still had time in this one. 
Immediately, you set the Cruiser’s course for Central, arriving  in four cycles. You docked on the Outer Ring and went straight for the mining office. There, you learned that the rest of Ezra’s crew had returned without him, the smarmy expedition leader placing a hand on your shoulder and offering his condolences for Ezra’s death. An explosion nine cycles ago, he’d told you. Bad batch of phaser, an unfortunate accident. He told you that he was unaware that Ezra had any family, and that he would have contacted you personally otherwise. His lips and brow formed a fraudulent frown as he apologized again for you having to find out this way, and pressed a slip for two thousand points into your palm - the agreed upon payout for casualties on the Green. 
You would have collapsed right there in the office if what the man was telling you held even a drop of truth. Holding your breath, you curled your fingers around the slip and hoped the shock - and fear - you felt at hearing the man’s outright lie would pass for grief, and left without a word. Your heart slammed at your chest as you nearly ran back to the cruiser, wanting to put as much space between you and the mining office as possible. 
Because you knew that Ezra couldn’t have been killed in an accident nine cycles ago. He’d contacted you only four and a half cycles ago. And you knew that if Ezra hadn’t told the crew about you, it meant that he felt they couldn’t be trusted - that he didn’t want them to know your name or what you looked like or that you were important to him. With reason. Two thousand points as an insurance payout was a decent chunk of money. But it was far less than he would have come home with if the information he had on the Queen’s Lair was correct. 
Those pieces of shit left him behind to get a bigger cut of the pull.  
Despite the chill that spread through your veins at that thought, you focused on one thing: that as of four and a half cycles ago, Ezra was alive. Alone, and likely hurt based on what he’d said to you through the comms, but alive. As soon as you made it back to the ship, you cashed in the slip you left the mining office with and used the points to fund your search. 
You told me not to go to the Green, Ezra. But I won’t just sit here and accept that you’re gone. I can’t. 
From Central you’d flown to Grillo. It was a longshot, but you knew that sometimes freighters that pass through the BG system make stops on Grillo. But when you arrived you were told that no ships had come from Bahkroma in months. Hyphlon-4 was next. Another grasp at thin straws. Hyphlon had a Satellite Ring and was on the list of places the two of you were considering. Again you were told that no crafts had entered Hyphlon airspace or landed on the planet. Delphon, then, you’d thought. It was next on the list. No Ring, though, and the spaceport wasn’t large enough to accommodate a cruiser, so you had to dock on its moon and take the shuttle. 
And now you’re here, and you don’t even have to ask about ships from the Green to know that Ezra isn’t. The emptiness stretches wider as you step off the shuttle and out into the crowded spaceport platform. You walk to the railing overlooking the city and let your eyes scan the shapes of the buildings, and you whisper. “I wish you were here, Ezra. I wish I knew you were safe.” 
Tears trail down your cheeks and fall to land on the copper railing before you can push away to head back for the shuttle. There’s only one planet left on the list and then you’ll have to repeat them, starting with the Pug. You shake your head. Lau. That’s the one. 
It has to be, you tell yourself. 
– – – 
Ezra curls his fingers around the copper railing at the Delphon spaceport and closes his eyes. He sighs, and for the first time in weeks he doesn’t wheeze. Cee steps up to his right side, careful not to bump into the still-swollen stump where his arm ends. “Ezra?” She doesn’t bother to ask the next bit out loud. Is she here? 
She watches a sad smile form on his face. “My Moonbeam was here. I can still feel her.” 
Cee’s brow furrows as she clutches the rail, too. She didn’t ask Ezra how he knew that you had been there. She just trusts him. “Then we’re getting closer. Where do we go next?” 
He opens his eyes and looks down at her. “Lau, Birdie. If we are to catch up with her it will be on Big Blue.” 
She nods. “Let’s go, then.” 
.
.
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)
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saltsicklover · 9 months
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Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7
Title: Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3925
Rating: T
Warnings: Swearing, blood, anger. Steve Rogers being the absolute worst. Angsty as hell, honestly. Let me know if I missed anything.
I am so sorry in advance.  
-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --
Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.
I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.
You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.
Ace is ready to take on the world, at least that's what she tells herself, heading out of the apartment, ready for a long awaited day off, but the letters she found stacked in her mailbox give her pause. It's been a few days since she checked her mail, the wanting to hear from Bucky swollen in her chest but the exhaustion from work kept her walking past her mailbox. Three envelopes sit in a stack, each with the return address to Avengers Tower, each baring a unique date and name, the handwriting impossibly different from one another. 
She flips through them, first ripping open the letter she knows came from Bucky. Her heart flutters a bit as she unfolds the bright yellow paper. She reads over the words, taking in each swoop and curve of the delicate letters. The way Bucky poured his entire heart into his words manages to bruise hers a little but the idea that he thinks she may not be real, a con, a flat out lie absolutely breaks her. 
Tears rim her eyes, blurring the lines of the letter. She runs her fingers over the end script, her fingertips tingling, "With too much hope and heartache". The line eats at her heart straight through her ribcage, lungs constricting with uncertain pressure. A small wheeze escapes her lips, morphing into a bit of a moan, the sound soaked in a new sort of pain she hasn't felt before. 
Ace has felt enough pain for a lifetime- enough fear to drown in and somehow she has stayed afloat. But this letter from Bucky threatens every feeling she has ever swallowed. 
This is nothing like the feeling of betrayal that she came to know after she found out her blood family once served Hydra. It's not the feeling that of broken grief she processed after their death, or the hurt that came from each new form of abuse they threw her way. It's nothing like the way her stomach swam as she poured her heart out to her therapist, or the way her limbs went numb when she sent that first letter. 
This is heartache. For both of them. 
How could he ever think that she wasn't real; her most sincere self poured into each letter she sent him. The way she took time to collect and curate things to send Bucky, just so he could actually get the chance to know her, and he still manages to think that maybe she isn't real. 
How could she not be real?
But the way he begs to know her twists her thoughts like vines. The way the letters swoop cut into her like knives. There is an inkling of desperation that seems to drown her, the words constricting all of the air from her lungs. They burn- both the words and her lungs, in equal measure. 
He must know that she is real, he has to. You don't beg that way for someone you consider a threat, a tease, or a game. Hell, you don't beg at all. The way Bucky has poured his soul out is no where near begging or pleading.
That's the way one yearns. 
Too much hope and too much heartache- too much, far too much. 
That thought hits her like a ton of bricks, knocking what little breath she has flat out of her chest in a strangled wheeze. Ace is caught somewhere between hurt and pure reverence. Bucky cares for her in kind, the way she does with him, the notion, the understanding, now settling deep within her bones as she drags a ragged breath into her lungs. 
Ace shoves the paper back into the envelope, her movements a bit too harsh, crinkles and folds making new purchase on the page. Ace shoves it to the back of the pile, ripping open the next one. Little bits of paper fall from the torn edges, discarded on the floor as a single tear slips down her cheek; her world spinning around her as the tear marks down her face, her strength wavering.  Ace unfolds the paper, a singular piece of lined notebook paper, a couple of short paragraphs scribbled down in black ink. 
"Dear Ace, Dude, I am writing to tell you two things. Yes, I know I could have texted you, but what's the fun of that? First off, you should've seen Buck and Steve. They were at each others throats while also being as far apart as possible. 
They were definitely fighting over you, but I got it all taken care of. Steve somehow got it into Bucky's head that you could have been a terrorist or something, but I set them straight. Which brings us to the other thing, I let it spill that I came to meet you, and I think Bucky is jealous, so heads up! 
Talk to you later! - Sam
PS: Schedule me in for another shave and probably a haircut too, you're my go to hair guru now."
A cold snap runs through her bones, then red hot anger bubbles to life, snuffing out any remaining cold from her bones. Raspberry bruises paint themselves under her skin, scorching and weeping. All of the pieces are starting to fall into place. Bucky wouldn't have gotten that twisted idea into his mind on his own, even with the few letters they have exchanged, Ace knows that. 
She knows him. Hell, she know Sam too, and he wouldn't have let Buck concoct such a tail. 
The idea being ridiculous within itself, she could never be a terrorist, not when she is the kind of person who stresses about letting vegetables go bad in the bottom of her fridge. Terrorists don't care about the random head of broccoli in the bottom drawer, they have bigger things to worry about. But, Ace? She is definitely thinking about the broccoli; and the client who sneezed during their haircut causing her to nick their ear with her scissors. That incident happened two years ago and it still cycles through her brain. It all cycles through. 
She knows that she shouldn't be angry, hell, she doesn't blame Steve for wanting to look out for Bucky, she just hates the immediate distrust. Maybe it comes with the job, the predisposition to judge, to keep people at arms length. 
Trusting the people in front of you doesn't exactly work in a war zone, especially when you are the one who is running into fire first. Ace tries to shed the discomfort from her bones and the lingering anger that still pulses beneath her skin. 
Ace's eyes dart over the post script of the letter and a small chuckle manages to crawl out of her chest. She rolls her eyes, the notion feeling a bit silly as she pulls out her phone and writes a note to put Sam down in her books. 
She shifts the envelope to the back, the name on the next one stares back at her. 
Rogers. 
Her heart skips at the name, anger once again beginning to breathe through her. It nips at the spaces between her ribs and the cartilage that holds her her chest together. It aches as it moves through her veins, burning her up from the inside out. 
Maybe she shouldn't feel this way. Deep down she knows that Steve has always been protecting Bucky, after all, that's what heroes do- hell, that's what friends do. Yet, she can't help but to feel beyond hurt knowing that not only had Steve weaved this tail about her, but he hand fed it to Bucky. 
She doesn't even want to open it, the urge to tear it to shreds tingles through her palms, radiating down to her fingertips. Ace takes it between her fingers, the envelope crinkling as she moves to tear it in two.  
With a huff, Ace moves to tear it open instead of in half. She yanks the paper from the envelope, the anger thrumming throughout her body. 
"Y/N" The letter begins, catching Ace off guard. No one has ever used her name, not outright like that. To Bucky, she has always been 201, he rarely addresses her outright. A hello has always been enough for them. Sam gave her a nickname, one that she has come to hold close to her heart. No one has ever given her a nickname so freely before- let alone one that continues to be used. The nickname warms her from the inside out, the idea of having friends blooms inside her chest. 
"Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers" 
Three fucking sentences. That's all it takes for Ace to crumble. 
The anger pours out of her in waves, wrecked sobs accompanying the hot tears that pour down her cheeks. The page is crinkled tight into her palm before she can let out the next shaky breath from her lungs. 
Within the minute she is out the door of her apartment, throwing herself into a taxi. The paper is still gripped tightly in her hand, the other letters buried in the pocket of her rain coat. As the cab meanders down the road, fat raindrops begin to fall. The pattering of the water on the windshield mixes with the streaking sound of the wiper blades, the chorus around her makes Ace's skin crawl as anger boils within her. 
The cab hits traffic about six blocks from the tower and Ace wriggles around in her seat. The anticipation causes her to shove money at the driver while she throws open the door. Mumbling a 'keep the change' Ace heads out into the storm, stomping her way through puddles towards the tower. 
Ace pulls out her phone, dialing Sam's number without a second thought. The droplets of water make her taps on the screen difficult for the device to read but the line begins to ring a moment later. The call waiting buzz drones over the line, ringing and ringing. She makes it half a block before she is met with his voicemail. 
"You've reached Sam Wilson, leave a message and I'll give you a call back." 
"Fuck" she curses, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She continues to let the anger guide her forward, her clutch on Steve's letter never letting up. By the time she arrives, her hair is drenched, sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Droplets of water stream down her face- it's unclear which are from the rain and which are from her puffy, red eyes. 
Ace leaves puddles in her wake as she stomps up to the front desk, a tight lipped smile spread across her cheeks in order to seem somewhat friendly. The man behind the front desk is barely awake, his face resting in the palm of his hand. His eyes are half lidded, staring at his computer screen. 
She stops a few feet from the desk, looking at the scene before her. She knows she should talk to him, that's the proper thing to do. It is literally this man's job to check people in and out of the building, but at this point she couldn't care less. The anger is clouding her judgement. So, she moves right, avoiding the desk all together, heading straight for the elevators. 
A women asks Ace what floor she is headed to without looking at her. Ace scans her eyes over the buttons, not sure which to pick. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth for a second.
"You are here for the gala, right?" The women questions her, shifting her gaze up to meet Ace's. Her expression shifts as she takes in Ace's dripping form, unable to hide her disgust. She checks her watch to fill the moments while she waits for Ace to respond. 
"Actually, I am here to cut Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers' hair. They usually comes to me, but asked me to make a house call," Ace chuckles a bit, holding up her bag, "But yes, for the gala." The lie she tells leaves her lips and she feels no remorse for it. 
Maybe it's the wrath that's taking up too much space in her chest to leave room for any other feelings or maybe she can lie if it's for Bucky, but either way she doesn't care. The air in the elevator is heavy with humidity but free of tension. 
The women hums out a sort of acknowledgement before pressing a button. They arrive to the floor a minute later and the women motions down the hall. 
"Check the gym," Is all she says before disappearing around a corner without another word. 
Ace pushes through a set of double doors, the gym smelling of sweat and bleach. The scent mingles in her chest with half breathes and pressure, her lungs sore from the sensation. Her hands are numb too, from both from the chill of the rain and from how hard she is gripping onto that fucking letter. White knuckles, tired lungs, and aggravation seems to be all she is in that moment. 
The gym is almost empty, a couple of lone agents packing up their things on the far side of the room. She is basically invisible as she drags her eyes around the room. Her breath catches when she catches Steve tucked away in the corner. He unwarps his hands, massaging out the tension in his hands that has built from his rounds at the punching bag. Steve brings a hand to his mouth, wrapping his lips around his split knuckle.
Without meaning to, Ace takes him in, every inch from his messy blond hair, seafoam eyes downturned and unbothered. The way he laps up the last bit of blood from his hand makes her stomach twist; she can almost taste the copper of the blood and it mixes with the bile that has begun to crawl up her throat at the sight of him. 
Steve pushes himself off the bench, standing to stretch out his worn out body. He wipes sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, his chiseled abs on display but Ace can't find it in her to care. Maybe if she wasn't so goddamn pissed of she would have looked, and maybe if she wasn't balancing on the blade between love and infatuation she would've enjoyed the view, but instead she takes this as her time to rush him. 
She stomps over, not caring about how loud her steps are or the trail of water she leaves behind her. The feeling of her palms pressed squarely against his frame where his shoulders meet his chest sends a fire through her, igniting a new layer of anger. She pushes him with all of her strength and he actually stumbles a bit. The unassuming women standing in front of him seething with anger, it's evident in her eyes, but before he can ask who she is or what she wants, her hands are on his body again, pushing him back, again and again. 
"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" She screams at him, the words clawing themself out of her throat. The words catch him off guard, almost as much as her hands do. His brows furrow, confusion stitching them together. He wants to put up his hands, show that he isn't going to hurt her, but all he can manage to do is lock his gaze on her face. 
Steve takes in the puffiness of the bright red skin around her eyes. The dried remanence of tears crusted against her cheeks lead his gaze down to her lips. They are chapped over to the point where they look painful, and she is still yelling. She is yelling at him, words he hasn't bothered to listen to. 
"Steve Goddamn Rogers, America's fucking golden martyr," She continues to scream, "Always knows what's right," Her balled up fists connect with his chest, not enough power to hurt him but enough force to make a point. Her fists continue to connect to any part of his body that she can reach, his chest, arms, stomach. Her words  begin to get lost in her broken sobs. 
She drops the letter that has been clutched so tightly in her hands. It lands on the floor, a crumpled up ball- three sentences lost in wrinkles of paper. 
Ace lands a hit to his chest, breaking open her knuckles, the bright red leaking from her broken skin begins to coat over the plain of her fist. A few punches later, the skin on the other fist breaks open too. 
"How dare you!" She repeats over and over again, the syllables getting clumped together with choked out cries. "How fucking dare you!" 
The blood transfers from her hands to his body, the sight not registering with either of them. 
Steve just stands there and takes it, unsure of what to say or how to stop the abuse that wouldn't end up with her breaking down even further. He wants to grab her wrists, beg her to tell him what he did wrong and who she is, but all he can do is stand there as she begins to crumble completely at his feet. 
She is full on sobbing now, her face contorting. She attempts to rid her face of tears and snot with the backs of her hands but it only sort of works, leaving her face still smeared with wetness, streaked with pure crimson. 
The doors at the other side of the room swing open, Steve's eyes snap up from the woman in front of him to see Sam and Bucky walk in, chuckling to themselves. Ace doesn't notice, she is too busy shoving Steve again. Her palms flat against his body as she pushes, the blood now rushing towards her wrists. 
"Fuck you, Steve," She chokes out one more time, "Fuck you," Her voice is broken, scraping against her throat. Bile coats her tongue, the crying and yelling making her nauseous. 
Steve makes eye contact with Sam, pleading for some sort of help. Sam notices the woman, then notices the blood. It covers her hands, droplets painting the floor beneath them. There is blood on the letter too, but no one seems to notice it. 
Sam sends Bucky to get a first aid kit and the soldier disappears back through the door they came through. 
"What the hell is going on?!" Sam shouts a bit, coming over to aid Steve. He takes a few steps closer, moving to see the woman. When she finally turns her face to look at him, the mixture of fluid on her face, she peers up at him through her damp hair. He recognizes her instantly. 
"Ace?" He questions, holding his hands out to her. He wants to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, the sobs coming from her lips causes his heart to ache. "Ace, what's going on?" 
With his words, she collapses to the ground completely spent. She shakes with rage and ragged breathes. Through her tears, she picks up the letter, now dotted with blood. She tried to unwrinkled it, but the thought of seeing it again makes her body wrack with another hollow cry. Ace holds out a half balled up piece of paper in Sam's direction. He takes it carefully between his fingers, working it open the rest of the way. 
Sam drags his eyes over the words, "Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers" The small paragraph awakens Sam's temper. He brings his eyes up to Steve, who is still standing in front of Ace, his back towards the wall. 
Sam's expression narrows, his features tight with enmity. "What the hell did you do?" Sam questions him, his eyes trained on Steve's own. 
Bucky walks in, first aid kit in hand. The sight before him causes him to stop. Steve stands with his hands up like he is pleading innocence. His blue eyes swim with guilt, easily read from across the room. 
Sam stands off to the side, a bloody piece of paper in his hand, the other fist balled tightly against his side. Sam is squeezing his fist so tight, the bones of his knuckles threaten to break through the whitened skin that is pulled so taught around them. 
Bucky's eyes drag down to the woman on the floor, her back to him. He watches as she runs her hands through her hair, her bloody hands shaking. He can hear he crying, attempting to stifle the sounds. 
Nobody has notice Bucky standing there- the woman focused on Sam, who is locked into a staring match with Steve. No one moves for what feels like ages. Finally, Sam speaks. 
"Steve, did you write this?" The look in Sam's eyes is nothing but pure challenge, "Did you threaten her?" 
Steve gulps out a quiet 'yes'. 
Sam straightens his posture out, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. He looks like he is about to step into a battle, but instead of running in behind Steve, his going up against him. 
"Do you really think that Bucky is so 'broken' that he can't have a nice girl like Ace as a pen pal?" Sam's voice holds no question at all, he already knows the answer, it's written plain as day in black ink in front of him. 
Steve mutters out another 'yes', eyes falling to the floor. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, like he is going to defend himself but cannot find the words. 
Without a warning, the first aid kit clatters to the floor and Bucky disappears through the doors once more. Ace and the two men turn just in time to see Bucky's fleeting form through the swinging door, getting further and further away. 
Finally, the door settles closed and Ace brings a hand up to cover her mouth. Steve can't pry his eyes off of the exit. 
"Now you've done it," Sam mutters, reaching down to pick Ace up in his arms. He carries her out of the room, leaving the mess of blood and Steve behind them. He couldn't care less- his main focus now on getting Ace's wounds cleaned and dressed. 
Steve is left standing in the thick air around him, his heart pounding against his chest. He is covered in blood and deserves to be. But the blood comes from the wrong source, instead of his own, he wears hers and somehow even through he never raised a hand to her, he can't help but feel like he was that small kid in Brooklyn again.
They always started the same way, a disagreement he met with words because he could never quite land a punch. They always ended the same way too, covered in blood, chest heaving and aching all at once. This time, though, Bucky wasn't there to save him, to throw the last punch, to end the damn fight. He can feel her blood beginning to crust over his skin, cracking and flaking away.
For the first time since the Winter Soldier, Bucky and Steve stand on opposite sides of the fight, and for the first time in this century, he knows one thing to be true: 
This is the fight he is going to lose. 
TAG LIST 
@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104 @stany0url0calwh0res111 @ladifreakingda @itsteambarnes
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shankschewtoy · 2 years
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OMG OKAY SO- I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR THE CAPSLOCK BUT I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE I WAS DOING THE DISHES—
How would the worst gen trio react to fanservice scenes of the reader? More specifically: the typical anime onsen scene. aka those japanese(??) baths where it's steamy and stuff).
AND IN ADDITION: the writers and authors for the anime are aware of how large the 'simping for the crimson reaper' fandom is so they decided to make a call out in the scene where the characters, in ckuding reader, look at the camera when they mention that reader has a lot of worshippers even as a pirate(?). HOW WOULD THE WORST GEN TRIO REACT TO THAT?? BECAUSE I LITERALLY BEGAN LAUGHING LIKE A HYENA WHEN MY BRAIN SUDDENLY THOUGHT OF THIS WHILE DOING THE DISHES :'DDDDD
— yours truly, also a eustass kid simp anon 🥀
a/n - NO DW ABT CAPS I YELL ALOT ANYWAY 💀 damn maybe I should do dishes so I’d have good ideas 😭 oh. My. GOD. YES OML I- I CHOKED ON MY WATER WHEN I READ OVER THIS- TY KID SIMP ANON YOU’RE THE BEST
Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, worst gen trio live together in an apartment
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Law
- oh he was doing COMPLETELY fine while watching op with a cup of water in his hand
- He took a sip, closing his eyes and sighing with how nice the ice cold water felt
- Once he reopened them, he spit it out, clutching his throat while coughing and wheezing
- On-screen, he saw you in nothing but a towel on!
- law.exe has stopped working
- He almost had to call the ambulance because he was choking so badly 💀
- he was literally struggling to turn the tv off, dropping it and the remote accidentally turning up the volume (pls this is so horrible 😭 I’m so sorry law)
- he was literally dying, figuratively and- literally because he’s having absolutely no luck with trying to stop coughing
- The volume was so fucking loud
- OF COURSE IT WAS A SCENE WITH YOU IN A BATHROOM WITH ALMOST NO CLOTHES ON
- The sounds in this scene were also- kind of questionable
- He literally was banging the floor, trying to drink more water to help himself not die such a stupid death
- “Trafalgar Law, death by water”
- no he wouldn’t ever allow that to happen
- then suddenly, he saw that you and the other characters turned straight towards the camera
- “So uh… I guess I have a lot of worshippers?? I’m a pirate guys..” You said with an awkward look in your eyes
- You had an abundance of fan letters right beside you, and this was one of those special edition episodes
- Law was so- red
- He was freaking out SO MUCH
- At the same time, he loves you so much. But then feels so stupid for falling in love with a fictional character 😭
- The TV was so loud that when Luffy and Kid barged through the door, they immediately asked questions
- “Why are you groaning Torao?!” -Luffy
- “Is that you or the TV…?” -Kid (kid this is the one time I’m gonna say you did smth good :)
- Law turned bright red. And I mean BRIGHT red
- he threw himself across the floor like a worm, grabbing the remote while wheezing
- he kept pressing the button to turn the TV off to no avail
- “DAMN IT!”
- He yelled, slamming his fist into the remote, finally getting it to turn off
- He was breathing so heavily, his heart pounding from stress, fear, and embarrassment
- He almost died choking on his own water, because of seeing his fictional crush in a bath scene 💀
- Luffy and Kid looked at each other with the same look in their eyes
- “YOU’RE A SIMPPPPPPP!” They both cheered, making fun of him to no end
- they were like little kids saying “na na na na na” around Law
- he had a headache before, but now he thinks he has brain damage from these two 😭
- he secretly saved that episode for.. later purposes you could say 👀
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Kid
- he usually watches one piece while tinkering with some of his new machines, he likes listening to your voice in the background
- It helps him work lol
- all of the sudden, he heard water noises, so he turned to the tv out of curiosity of what was happening
- maybe you were fighting someone again?
- his eyes went wide, and he dropped his hammer into his foot, making him start screaming like a madman
- “FUCK- DAMMIT FUCKING- OW-“
- He was hopping around on one foot for a long time after that
- when he finally calmed himself down, he went straight towards the tv as fast as he could
- You were in nothing but a towel, your feet hanging in the warm water of the hot springs
- Steam making your skin almost glisten with the lighting
- Kid had to swallow hard, and he swore to himself, he better not be getting turned on by a literal anime scene
- he was almost frozen in time
- you turned towards the screen, literally staring right at him which made him turn bright red like his hair
- his foot was throbbing from his injury earlier, but this was obviously more important 🙄
- “Wow- that’s a lot of.. People who like me- guys I’m a pirate you know right?? Not exactly the best person ever-“
- Kid was about to punch his face to see if this episode was real-
- it literally seemed like you were staring right at him as you were talking!
- he clenched his fist, getting ready to punch his face as he closed his eyes, then swinging his fist quickly
- it flew just in front of his face, hitting the tv in front of him, making it completely shatter and fall into the ground
- He was wondering why he didn’t even feel a single ounce of pain, he swore he swung pretty hard..
- He opened his eyes and then realized, he fucked up
- “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”
- He screamed, grabbing his red tufts of fluffy hair with stress
- When Law came downstairs to see what all the commotion was about, his eyes widened
- “You broke the fucking tv????”
- “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE GENIUS?!”
- “MEATTTTT!” *snores*
- “...the fuck?” -Kid/Law
- Law made Kid buy a new one since he’s the one who broke it
- and Law also told him to watch those types of scenes on his phone and not on the tv
- man was so angry at Law for telling him that, but also the most tomato colored man on earth
- kid now watches one piece only on his phone, in his room, and with headphones on so no one will disturb him
- and also to prevent the risk of having to buy another tv
- also to avoid arguing with Luffy over what show to watch
- 😭
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Luffy
- Luffy managed to convince both of his roommates to watch this special episode of one piece with him
- Man was so excited he got out the meat too-
- Law and Kid didn’t mind the episode so far, until it got to a bath scene (which pretty much every classic anime has-)
- Luffy picked his nose, not even paying attention to what was going on
- “Ugh.. This is kinda boring, I thought I’d get to see y/n fighting-!”
- He started to shout before he saw you in only a towel, nothing more
- he didn’t drop his meat, but he stopped mid-bite, his mouth already wrapping around the entire bone
- Kid and Law looked down at him with a deadpan expression
- No one talked for at least 4 minutes
- they were all frozen in the same position for so long that luffy’s meat was going cold
- he then noticed that your eyes stared straight into his, almost as if you were standing right in front of him
- his eyes went wide, and you went in to explain, “Wow- that’s a lot of.. People that like me? guys. I’m evil.”
- Luffy jumped out of his seat and started to tackle the tv
- “No! You’re amazing y/n! You’re super powerful and everything! I still wanna fight you! You’re not evil!”
- He screamed, wrapping his legs around the tv
- “DUMBASS YOU’RE GONNA BREAK IT!” -kid
- Kid had to run forward, making Law try to pry Luffy off the tv while Kid held it upright as much as he could
- “LET GO OF ME TORAO I’M EXPLAINING SOMETHIN’”
- “THEN GET OFF THE TV!” -Law
- He went on a rant, and even after the episode was already done, he was listing all the reasons of why he looks up to you and why he literally thinks you’re so amazing 😭
- when the scene started, it was 5pm
- it was now 8pm.
- Law and Kid beat his ass afterwards 💀
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a/n - pls I swear this was so funny 😭 tysm kid simp anon you’re amazing as always 🥺
<3
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