#i drew this last week and accidently took it down ; w ;

[pbandjesse]

I just got done washing my hair and I am feeling the best I've felt all week. I don't have a lot of energy still but I still really had a good day.

My mouth and all lip are doing better. The double bandaging helped. I'm going to try to sleep without one tonight, as the swelling seems to have gone down. But I think I handled this pretty well and it kept my tongue and fingers away from it which I think helped keep it from getting infected which was my main concern with how painful it was.

And I slept a little more deeply last night. I fell asleep easier and slept better. But when my alarm went off I was dizzy tired. This doesn't always happen but it feels so unsafe. Like I can't get up and drive. I just remember looking up at James and saying I can't do it. And they said that was okay and shut the blinds and I went back to sleep until 830. Which was later then I planned but it was fine.

I would get dressed and felt a lot better. I was moving kind of slow but I knew there wasn't a ton to do at camp so I didn't feel to bad. I had left Alexi know and I would still get there an hour before she did.

I was happy to be at camp once I got there. I had brought a box of games we were getting rid of and it was like Christmas. Sarah and Elizabeth got to pick some and Sarah particularly likes puzzles and I was glad she was able to get one. And Elizabeth got the handheld retro video game game boy thing and she would sit and play Mario (with Sarah's help) me I was just glad I could give them something fun.

I would have my bagel and struggle with my stupid bandaid lip. I ended up just taking it off to eat. Which was painful but at least wasn't as annoying.

I would be pretty bored for a while. I was desperate for something to do. I sent some emails. I looked at some documents. But for a lot of the day I just read my book about yellow fever. I have been enjoying reading time appropriate books so I can have more background for programs. But also it makes me feel like I'm being lazy? I know I'm not but it's hard for me to not feel like I'm being productive.

When Alexi and Heather came in I finally was given a few small tasks. Some more emails. Some collecting of documents and printing and stapling and organizing. But nothing took very long.

I would go up to arts and crafts and put away the stuff I brought the other day. I collected some trash. I went for a little walk. It was not as windy today and the sun felt nice. It was a beautiful day.

Joe would request that I sweep the lodge. It didn't seem very dirty when I got over there. I would spray down the bathrooms and do a general sweeping of the main room. But I don't like I wasn't doing much but it was a task at least.

I would head back over to the office. I made a stop at my car and found the rocks I had collected with Sarah a few weeks ago. I drew on them to mark where I want to drill them out for fire making. I need to find some masonry bits. I don't think I have any but that's not a terribly hard thing to get.

I had lunch and put a new bandaid on. We had a lot of jokes and laughs today. Sarah had made strawberry oatmeal and when her and Alexi were saying what kind of oatmeal they like I just said I only like baby oatmeal and Heather practically whipped around and was like what!!! Me too!! Love having things in common with Heather she's so silly.

Alexi is starting to have returning staff interviews. And it's been nice seeing who wants to come back. I did some organizing of documents for her for that. And it was nice to feel like I was accomplishing something.

I would read for a couple more minutes. I wasn't in a rush to go. I was nervous about talking to the detectives tonight and I had come in late. But after 4 I collected my things and said goodbye to everyone.

I decided I really really wanted pasta salad from whole foods. I let James know that was my plan. And I headed there. There must have been a really bad accident on the highway because the gps took me a complete back roads way and it was actually a really fun little ride. I got to see lots of old houses and nice trees and it was all different. And I got to whole foods at like 445.

I found three different ones. An orzo with feta and olives, a tortilini, and a mozzarella. When I got home James made me a plate with all three of them and it was a fun little meal.

I was really happy to be home. I was a little stressed about when I should leave to go to the police station.

But I ended up not having to worry. Because at 530 the detective called me and said they were going to see the victims, my neighbors, at their house and they could just come to my apartment. Works for me.

So me and James tidied up the boxes and made the living room presentable and less stressful for me. James also told me that Margret at work, who is direct neighbors with the two victims, told James about it and James got to tell her I was the main witness. Since she knows them I might have James take a note from me to them.

When the detectives came I went downstairs to get them and walked them back up here. I was really nervous. It was a man and a woman. They were bother nice. The man was surprisingly short and to woman was tall and had a no nonsense aurora. They both loved Sweetp and Sweetp was being very sweet and I was proud of him.

I was nervous though and started explaining what I saw right away. He had to stop me to get his recording device set up. And then I ran through everything I remembered and tried to focus on my memories best I could. I feel bad that I didn't get an video or remember the type of suvs. I also tried very hard to remember any of the license plates but I can only remember the last digit. The detectives said I was a really good witness though and I really helped. I don't know how what I shared will help find the people who did it. But I hope they find some cameras or something and my clues I gave them can narrow it down. I told them please reach out if they need me. And they gave me the numbers of the victims because apparently they wanted to say thank you to me. The older man has been in the hospital until today under observation. That's so scary I really hope they are okay.

I think I will make them a card. That's something nice I can do tomorrow.

After the detectives left James made me a little fake chicken patty and they had a little pizza. I put some more water in the fishtanks. I looked around the apartment for things I could maybe start to pack but then I lost steam. And went to take a bath instead.

I accidently half filled the tub with just cold water. So even though I only used hot for the rest it was never exactly a hot bath. James filled two kettles but that only helped make it a little more comfortable. I put oil in the water because my skin has been so dry and itchy. I double washed my hair. And felt pretty nice.

Now we are in bed. Watching videos. Talking about the move. Being nervous about big changes. It has been good. I feel happy.

Tomorrow I am going to go paint pottery with Callie after work. I'm really looking forward to seeing her. And I hope the rest of the day is productive and fun. And I hope you all have a good night sleep. Until next time!

[luminberry]

Prompt- How about a pred that has been holding themselves back from nomming their new prey friend until the urge drives them up the wall and they snap, eating up their prey friend then coming to their senses and apologizing? Turns out the prey friend was wondering why it took so long to get eaten.

stealing @acorncake 's sher1ff bull bc yes.

cause hell ye ive thought long and pondered this one for a while but writing everything building to it takes so long. blame me being a picky fuck for writing plenty to do it right.

but snippets tho...snippets work for shenanigans

He was always a kind and patient sorta man, being a M4g more or less called for it if you didnt want to wind up destroying everything on accident. He had gotten good and holding himself in check in regards to alot of things, it had earned him many friends and the trust of most of the base he found himself calling home now.

Still...being this big came with repercussions, some he had to learn to live with, but thankfully they grew to be manageable.

All but one that unfortunately was causing him trouble for the last week or so.

A new man had turned up at the base, a cowboy much like him surprisingly. Smaller than most by a tiny margin but he held his head high, something that drew the M4g to him both out of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite name just yet.

As it turned out, the man (whos name was Zeke it turned out) was surprisingly easy to get along with once Bull broke the ice. Easy to get along with and even easier still to talk with..Soon both sides found themselves in the others company far more than any other on base.

It was around this time one of the repercussions started to kick in. Bull started to wonder what the smaller man would feel like sliding down his throat, what he might even taste like. It started as idle thoughts and grew to daydreams while the object of said thoughts sat in his hold completely unaware of his want to devour his newfound friend.

Naturally he pushed the urge down, Zeke didn't know about his...strange little habit and he didn't want to scare the man away. He'd resist the damn urge as long as he could stand it.

His will broke about near the end of the week around Sunday evening just before dinner was about to be called. Zeke had gotten accustomed to Bull more or less carrying him around while they talked, it made things easier on both parties considerably.

Bull wasn't quite sure what broke his resolve, the smell coming from the mess hall, how close Zeke was to his mouth at that particular moment but before he could stop himself his hands moved of their own accord.

His stomach growled as he felt the shockingly delicious treat moved from mouth to throat and beyond with so little resistance he wondered why he wasted so much time holding back until now. It wasn't until he felt the little yet familiar weight of prey settling into his stomach that he came to his senses and damn near fell over from the sense of shock and guilt hitting him.

"Oh..oh shit, ah I'm sorry Zeke...I shoulda held back a bit longer...Damnit..I'm real sorry..are ya alright in there?"

"Ah...w-well I'm mostly surprised? I'm fine but..well that was certainly a experience. Alot different than what the others told me it'd be like that's for sure.."

He felt some relief that the smaller man now tucked away wasn't upset or cross with him-wait.

"Hold on..run that by me again? Ya'll knew bout...bout my ah...little bad habit?"

"well yeah? It got mentioned once or twice since I'd be dealin with a few M4gs daily..they gave me a few days of trainin and info for it..But uh..readin bout somethin and havin it happen first hand is a big difference..Ya'll are gonna let me back out right?"

"Of course! Shoot I ain't that kinda fella..just sorry I got weak so close ta dinner..Gimme two minutes and I'll get ya back out so we can still get some proper food okay?"

"Alrighty..Just uh, warn me next time alright big fella?"

"Sounds fair ta me."

#mawdness combat #g/t vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling

[saturnberries]

Captain Avantika ❤️

#critical role #critrole #avantika #critter #my art #i drew this last week and accidently took it down ; w ; #will need to redesign her at some point i want to draw her hair more fluffy and her eye tattoos ;)

[ragingbookdragon]

All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #red hood #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc

[simplee-dreaming]

The Runner (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

A/N: THIS IS MY 50TH FIC WTF!! Ngl I'm not so confident about this one but that's just my anxiety being a demon. I hope you all like it.

Word count: 3823

Summary: With Darren being on the warpath, Chris takes great care of the reader...along with some friends.

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

The next day you walked into work with a big smile on your face. Last night you shared food with Chris Evans, watched a film with Chris Evans, got into a tickle fight with Chris Evans and ended up being cuddled by Chris Evans. You were certainly on cloud nine right now.

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” a call came over the radio. You strode into the kitchen to make it but found another runner already on the case.

“Nevermind,” you thought to yourself. There’s no way you were gonna go the whole of today without seeing him anyway.

You turned on your heel to leave but walked straight into Darren.

“Oh, um, sorry, I-I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, sternly.

“Sorry,” you repeated.

“There’s a mess on the set, you need to clean it up before the next scene begins shooting,” he demanded. You looked at him.

“But, I’m not a cleaner?” You said, puzzled.

“You were perfectly happy to clean the set a few weeks back,” he said.

“Well yeah but-”

“No excuses, clean up that mess now,” he interrupted, marching out of the kitchen. You sighed but decided not to argue.

You went onto the set and helped the cleaners with the mess.

A few hours had passed and you were sitting on set filling out an accident form. Apparently, Sebastian Stan had slipped on set whilst filming and managed to cut his hand. Only a tiny cut, but any accident has to be filed. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to sit with Seb and fill it out but was given the details by his assistant, Jane.

You got up and walked into the set office, where all the paperwork was kept, and filed away the accident form. When you walked back onto the set, Darren was standing there staring at you. He lifted up his hand and ordered you to go over to him. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him.

“So what exactly did you do to clean the set earlier today?” He asked.

“I...I swept up the debris. I just cleared the mess,” you replied.

“You cleaned the floor, didn’t you?”

“I cleared it yeah but I-”

“You cleaned the floor and left it in a slippery state. No wonder Mr Stan slipped over,”

“No, but, I..I just cleared it! I never-”

“He could have broken a bone,”

“I didn’t clean it, I only swept!” You protested. Darren grunted at you and walked off, leaving you feeling deflated.

The rest of the day you were silent. You didn’t dare speak to anyone in case they thought the same as Darren. When your lunch break finally came around, you walked outside to the back of the studios and sat in a quiet corner where all you could hear was the wind sweeping through the trees and the birds singing. You finished your lunch in silence, a single tear escaping from your eye.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” said a familiar voice. You looked up to see Chris walking towards you. A smile involuntarily grew on your lips.

“Oh, hey!” You said, quickly wiping away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He asked, sitting on the bench next to you.

“No. No, I’m fine,” you replied.

“You have been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am, I promise. I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. Chris gently put his hand on top of yours.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly. You looked at him, then looked down and burst into tears. He pulled you in for a tight cuddle.

“It’s all my fault,” you sobbed into his chest.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seb. I made Seb slip. He’s hurt because of me,” you cried.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Chris asked, rubbing your arm.

“I cleaned the set earlier, I must’ve put something down because Seb slipped and cut himself and it’s my fault,”

“Seb didn’t slip?” Chris said, confused.

“What?”

“Seb didn’t slip, he tripped and fell over. That’s how he cut his hand, he grabbed onto a bit of the set for support and caught a sharp edge. He never slipped,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“So...so it wasn’t me?” You asked.

“Of course not, he’s just a clumsy idiot. The floor wasn’t slippery at all. Plus, he’s fine. Just got a big boy plaster on,” he chuckled.

“But...but Darren said-”

“What did Darren say?” Chris asked, more seriously.

“Darren said Seb slipped. And that it was my fault because I cleaned the set earlier but I didn’t remember actually putting any product down to clean and I thought I only swept the set which it seems is all I did and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, breathe. Darren told you this was your fault?” Chris asked. You nodded.

“Right, I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, standing up.

“No no please, he already hates me. If you say something then he’ll know I told on him and he’ll be even worse,” you begged.

“Y/N, he cannot treat you like this,”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” you lied.

“He made you cry, Y/N. That is not okay. I’m going to speak to him,” Chris said. He walked off and you ran after him. When you turned the corner, you both ran straight into Seb.

“Whoa Speedy Gonzales, slow down!” Seb said, catching you as you tripped over Chris’ foot.

“S-sorry,” you said. You looked up and suddenly registered who was in front of you.

“Oh god. Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Stan, I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay,” Chris said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him and took a few deep breaths.

“Ohh so you’re Y/N. Chris has been telling me all about you, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” Seb said, smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back. He looked at Chris.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see my assistant,” Chris said, sternly.

“Ah yes, ‘Divine Darren’,” Seb said, sarcastically. “More like Distasteful Darren.”

“Well, quite. He’s been so unpleasant to Y/N, so I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, he sounded very angry.

“Chris please, it will only make things worse,” you begged. Seb looked at your worried face and looked back at Chris.

“I think she’s right, Chris. At least wait a little bit until you’re calmer. Then I’ll come and back you up,” Seb said. Chris let out a sigh then looked at you. His face softened.

“Okay. But he’s not going to get away with this,” Chris said. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good lad,” Seb said, patting Chris’ shoulder. He then turned to you.

“So, you’re the reason our Chris was so chirpy this morning, eh?” He said. You blushed.

“W-well...I...um…” you stammered. What had Chris told Seb?

“Seb…” Chris warned.

“What? I’ve gotta be polite to your new tickle attacker!” Seb said.

“SEB!” Chris cried.

“Chris told me you used his weakness against him last night. Nice to have you on board Y/N,” Seb winked at you. You let out a nervous giggle, praying that Chris didn’t tell Seb that you shared the same weakness.

“Although, it seems you may struggle more. We can’t have someone who is equally as ticklish on the front line until he’s not strong enough to retaliate,” Seb said. He winked at you again and smirked.

Fuck. He knew.

“Anyway, gotta get ready for my next scene. Catch you both later,” Seb waved goodbye and walked off.

You turned to Chris and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You told him?” You asked.

“Ohh...yeah...yeah I did,” he said, giggling. You punched him again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just had a great night last night and couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“So did I,” you replied. He chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed in his arms until he squeezed your side.

“Hey!” You yelped.

“That was for punching me,” he said.

You sighed and walked back into the studios with him, ready to get back to work.

The day finally came to a close. Scenes were wrapping up shooting and members of the crew were packing up to go home. You had purposefully been avoiding Darren all day, terrified of what he may try and do next.

Chris has invited you to his caravan again for another movie night, so you decided to quickly clean up the kitchen area before you clocked out. You took the half-filled jug of coffee out of its hold and turned to pour it down the sink. But, as you turned, someone knocked into the back of you and you dropped the jug which smashed all over the floor.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Yelled Darren from behind you. You swiftly turned around.

No words came out of your mouth, just incoherent babbling.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve smashed the bloody jug you blundering idiot!” He yelled. You took a step backwards and slipped slightly on the spilt coffee, you held the kitchen side for support as tears leaked down your face.

“I-I didn’t mean….I never meant to...it was an accident!” You cried.

“You did that on purpose. You’ve been messing about ever since you started here. Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused?!”

You burst into tears, frightened of the man standing before you.

“Hey hey, back off!” A voice said behind Darren. He turned around slightly and there stood Scarlett and Lizzie, both with their arms folded.

“Did you see what she did? She broke the coffee jug!” Darren exclaimed, gesturing at you.

“Then buy another one,” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“Better yet, buy another one secretly and we won’t tell anyone that you purposely fell into her,” Lizzie said.

“What? I never fell into her! Stupid girl tripped over,” he said, a wobble in his voice. Both women titled their heads and raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“She dropped it all by herself! She’s caused nothing but havoc since she started,” he tried to explain but the girls were having none of it.

“Grrr. Out of my way,” Darren huffed. He pushed past Scarlett and Lizzie and marched off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lizzie asked, approaching you. You shook your head and burst into tears. Lizzie drew you in for a hug.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Scarlett asked.

“Y/N,” you responded, quietly.

“Oh goodness, you’re Y/N! Chris has mentioned you a few times today. He’s waiting for you, we'll take you to him,” said Lizzie.

“B-but the mess…” you stammered.

“Leave it, we’ll clean it up,” Scarlett said.

She and Lizzie each put an arm around you and guided you away from the kitchen. Chris was standing at the back of the studios, near the caravan park. His posture straightened up when he saw you, but his face grew more concerned as you approached.

“Oh my god, are you okay Y/N? What happened?” He asked. Scarlett looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

“No. No no. This wasn’t Darren again was it?!” He said, his voice getting louder. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Chris, he’s probably gone home by now,” Lizzie said. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“That little….he has no right treating you like his,” he said. You tilted your head down. He drew in a deep breath and took you from Scar and Lizzie, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he said, stroking your hair. You cried into his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Tell you what, Seb’s using the green room to relax in for a bit this evening. Shall we go and join him?” He asked.

“Will he mind?” You replied, lifting your head slightly.

“Not at all! We could have a group film night if you’re both up for it too?” Chris asked. Scarlett and Lizzie nodded. Chris put his arm around you and all four of you walked to the green room.

“Knock knock,” said Chris, entering the room. Seb was sat on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Seb asked, turning to greet you all. “Ooh more guests, this is exciting. What’s the occasion?”

“Another incident happened. We thought we could join you and watch a movie together?” Chris said.

“Why of course! The more the merrier!” Seb said. He shuffled up a bit on the sofa and Chris placed you between himself and Seb.

“I’m gonna go grab some food. Do you two mind helping me?” Chris said, gesturing at Lizzie and Scarlett. They both followed him out and into the kitchen area. Coffee and bits of jug were still splattered on the floor so Lizzie bent down to start cleaning it up.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Y/N was cleaning this area. She went to wash out the coffee jug and Darren purposely bumped into her so she dropped the jug and he had a proper go at her. She was terrified,” Scar informed him. He hung his head.

“I can’t let him get away with treating her like that,” he responded.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Lizzie asked, sweeping the floor.

“I don’t know yet. But he’s not getting away lightly,” Chris said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just putting on a brave face,” Scarlett said.

Chris, Scarlett and Lizzie finished cleaning the kitchen and grabbed some bags of popcorn to take back to the room. When they returned, they found you leaning forwards with your head in your hands and Seb rubbing your back.

“What’s happened??” Chris asked. He put down the popcorn and sat next to you, putting his arm around you.

“She keeps saying everything that happened today is her fault. I’ve told her it isn’t but she’s pretty shook up,” Seb whispered softly.

“Oh Y/N. Nothing that has happened is your fault! We’ve been through this my lovely,” Chris said, gently.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumbled.

“What? Chris said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you said, standing up from the sofa and heading for the door. Chris grabbed your arm.

“Whoa whoa whoa, steady on. Where are you going?”

“Darren was right. I have no right being here. I’m just a runner.”

Another tear fell down your face and Chris’ heart broke.

“Y/N, listen to me. Yes, you are a runner but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be here. Runners are an important asset to the studios, how else would I get my coffee?! Besides, you’re not just a runner. You’re incredible. You’re the first non-celebrity that hasn’t treated me like royalty and it’s a breath of fresh air,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really! Don’t want you bowing down to kiss my feet, they’re not that great,” he said. You gave a shy giggle.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. You happily accepted and relaxed slightly in his arms.

“Now then you, we’re gonna have a great movie night, yes?” He asked, you nodded. “Good, but I want you to be happy before we start. Where’s that smile?”

He had a hint of playfulness in his voice. You knew what was coming but didn’t want to fight it, so you buried your head further into his chest.

“Come on...where is it?” He teased. He started poking up and down your sides and you squirmed.

You murmured a giggle into his chest as he continued to poke you.

“Where’s that smile?” He teased. You giggled louder as the pokes turned into squeezes.

“Chrihihihis!” You squealed, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Where are you going?” He asked, bending his head slightly to look at you. His hands squeezed your sides and tickled your ribs, making you squeal. You put your hands on Chris’ stomach to push him away but decided to tickle his tummy instead.

“Hehey!” He yelped, stepping backwards and releasing you from his grip. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s how you wanna play…” he said. The playful tone in his voice made you giggle but also kicked in the instinct to turn on your heel and run.

Bad move.

Chris lunged at you, as you turned, and picked you up - spinning you in the air before lying you flat on the sofa. You shrieked.

“No Chris!” You pleaded as he sat next to you, trapping you between him and the back of the sofa. He cackled evilly and started squeezing your sides again. You shrieked and kicked your legs out.

Seb, Lizzie and Scar all shared a smile as they watched Chris tease you.

“Show me that smile,” he teased once more. You were going bright red in the face and tried to bat his hands away, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Chris, I think it may be in here,” Seb said. Before you realised what was about to happen, Seb had placed his fingers in the crook of your neck and started wiggling them.

“WAIHIHIHIT! You cried, not expecting Sebastian Stan to join in. You scrunched up your shoulders, trapping his hands in your neck, and shrieked.

“Wow, Chris, you’re right. She’s super ticklish!” He teased. Your face turned ruby red as you twisted and turned on the sofa.

“NOHO I’M NOHOHOT!” You cried.

“Oh yes you are,” Seb said. His hands trailed down to underneath you and started tickling your shoulder blades. The noise you made was different to any other you had ever made before.

“Whoa, I think you found a bad spot,” Chris laughed. He started squeezing and spider tickling your tummy and you let out a scream. You kicked your legs frantically as your arms waved around trying to stop the attacks.

“Girls, we need your help!” Seb said. Scarlett and Lizzie looked at each other and laughed. Scarlett got up and approached you.

She positioned herself next to Chris and gently fluttered her fingers over your kicking feet. No one had you pinned so you were free to twist and kick as much as you liked, but as soon as you twisted from one pair of hands you fell right into another.

“Does this tickle Y/N? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” Chris teased, now spider tickling your waistline.

“STOHOHOHP SAHAHAYING THAT!” You cried.

“Oh but you’re so fun to tease!” Chris said, laughing evilly.

Lizzie looked over at Chris and narrowed her eyes. Then, a thought hit her. She slowly crept up behind Chris before lunging at him, sitting on top of him so he was pinned to the floor. She wasted no time in shoving her hands under his armpits and wiggling her fingers.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! AHAHAHAHA!” Chris yelled, taken aback by the sudden attack.

Seb and Scarlett instantly stopped tickling you so you could all watch the action unfold.

“Does this tickle Chris? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” She cooed, repeating his own teases. He thrashed below her and boomed out a laugh. You started giggling too.

“I’ve got him, Y/N. Come and get your own back,” she said, turning her head to wink at you. You jumped off the sofa and basically slid over to him.

“Do any of you know his worst spot?” You asked.

“His ears. Get the spot just behind the right one and flutter your fingers over the top of his left one and you’ll have him a babbling mess below you,” Seb said...a little too quickly.

You grinned at him. Lizzie stopped tickling but kept her hands positioned under his arms. You followed Seb’s instructions and, before you knew it, Chris was a babbling mess on the floor. A mix of squeals, giggles and high pitched laughs came out of him as he twisted his head from side to side. Every time he tried to lift his arms to stop you, Lizzie would tickle his armpits and he’d slam them back down again.

“Cootchie cootchie coo, Chris…” you teased. Your heart did somersaults at the sound of his precious laugh.

All of a sudden, Chris let out a booming laugh and jolted his body. You looked up and found Seb trapping one of Chris’ feet with one hand and using the other to scrape up and down his sole. Seb looked at you.

“His feet are his second worst,” he informed you.

You and Lizzie were too distracted by Seb tickling Chris’ foot that neither of you noticed him lifting up his arms. Because you were sitting right next to him, he managed to grab you and pull you over his torso. He held you close to him as his hand trailed up and down your back and sides. You shrieked loudly and bucked your body.

“CHRIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHO!” You cried.

Seb stopped tickling Chris and instead made a lunge for your foot, trapping it in the same way and raking his fingers up and down it. You burst into a loud laughter.

“Oh dear, we really are trapped now aren’t we?” Scarlett teased. She shoved her hands between you and Chris and started tickling both your tummies at the same time. You both shrieked loudly. Lizzie giggled and decided to join Chris in tickling your sides and back. Chris was giggling below you but you were screaming and shrieking before falling into a silent laughter. You hid your face in Chris’ torso and jolted your whole body. They all took this as the sign to stop.

You lay on top of Chris, getting your breath back. He was still giggling which made you giggle more.

“You okay?” He asked, now stroking your hair. You nodded and placed your head on his chest.

“You passed the initiation,” Seb said. You lifted your head and looked at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You passed the initiation. You got through our torture without murdering us,” he laughed. You got off of Chris and sat on the floor, still giggling. Chris sat up too.

“You’re officially one of us now. That will never change,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. “And tomorrow, I promise, I will sort out this mess. Darren will never treat you so badly again, I promise.”

“Just don’t ever clean the set again,” Seb teased. You scoffed and playfully punched him, making him laugh.

Seb, Scarlett and Lizzie shuffled forward and all four cast members engulfed you in a massive hug. You felt so safe and secure, all of your worries left you for that evening.

Tomorrow is a new day.

#tickle fic #avengers cast tickle fic

[fluffyfranny]

So hey! Might as well start posting! 

Starting off with an oldie in my past writing archives when I was at my peak in the Markiplier fandom. Still love his content dearly, but I don’t think I’ll write for his egos anytime soon.

Posting this with a lil motivation from @yaysof11037 who has become such a great mutual earlier on this week! (If ya haven’t checked out their works you totally should btw). In return for the lovely angst they provided for me, angst is what you shall receive in turn >:3

Hope y’all enjoy this piece I conjured WAY back in April :0

TW for descriptive gore, past and present character death and overall angst in general under the cut >:3

~Gone Too Soon~

Paranoia.

That was one of the primary emotions Eric felt all the time. The poor boy had been through a lot. He had lost a majority of his family, including his mother and the rest of his brothers, in a tragic accident, and he considered himself an “omen” of bad luck, of sorts, since things seemed to die around him.

Unfortunately, that was about to come true, once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started one brisk night, when Eric was having trouble sleeping for what seemed like the fifth time this week. He tossed and turned underneath the sheets, clutching his worn-down, yellow handkerchief with an iron grip in one of his fists. This lasted for about an hour.

The primary cause for this state of unrest, however, was not only his ever present state of anxiousness, but the fact that a nightmare unlike any he had ever dreamt was roiling through his mind.

He had dreamt that the rest of the Ipliers currently living in the manor, including his father, had mysteriously disappeared. Eric had been wandering the halls, calling out for them, his cries becoming squeaky as tears threatened to spill over...

Before he found his family and the states that they were in...

But then, he shot bolt upright in his bed. His breaths were rapid and his forehead was layered with a fine sheen of nervous sweat. He pinched his hand to make sure that it was all a dream, and fortunately, it was.

Eric tried to stabilize his breathing then and there, attempting to calm down. “It w-was all j-just a bad d-dream,” he kept repeating to himself. “None of t-that was r-real.”

With a sharp exhale of air, he dragged himself out of bed and left his room. He figured a walk around the vast, ever-expanding halls of the manor would calm his nerves, along with a glass of water.

The weight of his prosthetics made the stairs creak, but the other Ipliers knew better than to interrogate whoever was making such a ruckus. When they heard the familiar metallic clunk against the steps, they knew it was Eric, and they either left him be or awoke to provide him assistance, if needed.

As he made his way down the stairs and into one of the bigger hallways, he sensed that something was off. The air felt thicker, as if some invisible force was adding weight to the environment without anything actually being there.

In addition, he thought he caught a whiff of something along the lines of smoke. He shivered slightly at all of this, but shook his head in denial, brushing these factors off as remaining slivers of his nightmare that still plagued his mind.

Eric was just about to step foot into the living room when one of his prosthetic legs slipped in something wet, nearly sending him careening to the tile floor. Fortunately, he grabbed onto the railing on the side of the wall with a less than elusive yelp to stabilize himself.

He caught his breath and, with fear laced in his vision, glanced down slowly towards the ground. He nearly started having another panic attack when he saw a smear of red coat the tile and flow around the bend. The red coloration was so deep, it nearly appeared black as ink.

With even shakier steps, Eric clambered around the corner to locate the source of the stain…

Only to be met with the pale, lifeless stare of his father, lying in a pool of his own blood.

This time, Eric’s screech could be heard across the entirety of the mansion, had it been any louder. He immediately knelt down and began inspecting Derek’s clothes with quivering hands. His red, white and blue polo shirt was now dyed with an even darker crimson due to the blood seeping out of a massive hole in his chest.

“D-dad?” Eric whimpered, his handkerchief slightly speckled with Derek’s blood after placing it next to him. “W-what h-happened? Pl-please get up!”

He began shaking his parent’s shoulders rather forcefully, causing his head to loll to the side rather limply, then softly thumping back down onto the floor once Eric had ceased his actions.

Before he could let loose a scream of his own, several more heart-stopping yells proceeded to echo throughout the living room and the halls surrounding it, followed by the crashing of bodies. Eric’s head snapped up and glanced in all directions to locate who was screaming. However, despite the noises sounding like they were coming from right around him, there was nobody else with him. Aside from his father.

Then, that’s when he heard them.

“Why, hello there, Eric.”

His head whipped to his left to meet the gaze of a man talked about throughout the household, but none too kindly. Said man stood before him in a red tailcoat and black dress pants, both of which had gashes torn in them, and from these gashes seeped both red and black. Various other cuts also covered his bare hands and face. The red was definitely blood, Eric assumed, but why was this man bleeding black as well?

Either way, it didn’t matter as the man strode in Eric’s direction and placed the blunt end of the cane he clutched on the area where his heart would be before giving the area a gentle tap and stepping back again, smiling wickedly all the while.

“Wh-what have y-you done with m-my friends?” Eric stammered, trying to lace some confidence into his voice. “M-Mark?”

“Oh, poor, sweet Eric,” Mark tutted, shaking his head and scattering loose flecks of blood and pitch-black ichor. “I’ve been waiting a while now to exact my revenge against your...family here.”

“R-r-revenge?” Eric questioned with wide eyes and a more noticeable quiver in his voice. “B-but the others a-are so sweet t-to me. They’d n-never do-”

“Oh, but my friend,” Mark interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You’ve just missed out on all the horrendous things they have done to others. Even to me.”

“T-that’s a l-lie!” Eric tried to shout. “They’d never d-do anything b-bad to others! You’re just t-trying to c-convince me o-otherwise!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Mark began to raise his voice, inky-black ichor seeping out of the corners of his mouth. “You’re just too naive to see it! The others are evil…”

“No, t-that’s y-you!” Eric finally found the courage to retort back semi-confidently. “Y-you’re the e-evil one!”

At this, Mark’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slowly towards him, a pissed look in his eyes and on his face. He snarled, his lips quirking up to bare his teeth back at the boy.

“You insufferable brat!” Mark said, ever angrier. “Just for all that you’ve said and done, I’ll show you what has been made of your “family” and be on my way.”

Before Mark disappeared in an explosion of smoky black mist, he gave Eric one final glare and remark:

“Don’t be surprised if you end up being next.”

And with that, he was gone.

However, once he vanished, the air around the room began to shimmer before the environment revealed a truly horrendous sight from behind Mark’s illusion.

Blood and gore everywhere.

Eric felt like he was going to be sick at the sight of his friends plastered around the house, laying in their own life essence. He hesitantly gazed around and, one by one, took note of what happened to each of them.

First, he spotted Wilford in the kitchen, draped over the countertop with the broken end of a wine bottle stuck in his head, the jagged ring of glass biting into his scalp and sticking there, all the while drawing blood that flowed off of Wil’s head like tiny rivers.

Then, he saw Bim hanging from a taxidermy deer skull in the living room, the antlers emerging from above his eye sockets to make it look like he had sprouted the appendages.

As Eric shook his head in both fear and denial, he practically bolted out of the conjoining rooms and down the hall he came from. There, he saw both Google and Bing’s dismembered parts scattered across the floor, with a few limbs laying on the stairwell and a head posted atop it. Whoever’s head it was was barely recognizable, for the artificial skin was peeled away to reveal the mechanical insides.

Eric, surprisingly, only started to cry harder now, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks as he realized that this was not just a dream.

It was a nightmare come true.

He then came across Dr Iplier, whose corpse was laying halfway inside a closet and covered with crudely stitched gashes that still leaked blood, which, to Eric’s horror, was a mixture of the red and black that Mark was coated in.

As he rounded the corner, avoiding going upstairs again, he nearly tripped over Host, whose blindfold was ripped clean off to expose his empty, bloody eye sockets. In addition, he was also missing the skin on one side of his jaw, exposing the teeth and bone beneath to give him a zombified look.

This drew a gag from Eric at the sight of Host’s mangled face, and he quickly fled deeper down the hall.

At this point, he had exhausted himself, so he simply let his back hit the wall and slide down to the floor, where he held his head between his knees. He then began to let loose gut-wrenching sobs that would make anyone else cry, as well.

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to fidget with it, nearly tearing it in half with the force he was using on it.

Just as he was about to fling the cloth away, he felt the air around him drop in temperature, which caused him to look up. There stood Dark, his hair disheveled as if he were running his fingers through it all day. His jacket and shirt were both wrinkled, and his tie was missing.

At the sight of Eric curled up in a sobbing mess, Dark got on both knees in front of him and patted one of his own. He looked up to see the pale man smiling at him sadly.

“I’m terribly sorry, Eric,” Dark spoke at a low volume. “We couldn’t save them.”

Eric choked out another sob as he gazed up at Dark with watery eyes. “Th-they’re all dead! Even m-my d-dad is g-gone. My whole f-family is g-gone!”

He put his head between his legs again so Dark wouldn’t see him cry anymore. He felt a heavy hand rest atop his head and ruffle his hair, a seemingly kind gesture amidst these depressing times.

“Look here, Eric,” Dark said as he gently pressed a fingertip underneath Eric’s chin and raising his head to look back at him. “You still have me. We can be our own little family.”

“B-but what if M-Mark comes back f-for you?” Eric whined. “Th-then I’ll b-be all a-alone!”

“Trust me as you have in the past,” Dark drawled out, moving the hand away from his chin and dropping it back to his side. “He won’t be back.”

“P-promise?” Eric questioned, voice shaking harder than it ever had.

Dark merely responded with a nod and one word:

“Promise.”

Before he could get up and take Eric away with him, he let out a grunt and got back on his knees. Eric could only stare in horror as a spot on Dark’s dress shirt became soaked in black. The spot only grew bigger, as if he were hit with a bullet, and the blood was spreading further out.

Dark gently prodded at the fresh hoel in his gut before looking back up at Eric and uttering two words that would be the last he’d ever hear.

“I’m sorry.”

After uttering those final words, Dark collapsed right into Eric’s lap, his head landing in his cupped hands. He let out a shocked gasp and lifted Dark’s head up to look into his eyes and wave his hand in front of them.

“Oh...oh n-no, D-Dark, please d-don’t!” He began to babble uncontrollably, tears falling faster than ever, with a few landing onto Dark’s cheeks to make it seem as if he were crying. They ran down his face, which seemed to be getting paler by the second, even though it seemed impossible for him to pale any further.

“P-please don’t l-leave me,” Eric sobbed, cradling Dark’s head as he felt his blood soak into his own polo shirt, staining it black. “N-not alone in th-this place.”

Dark could only let out a faint wheeze that sounded like a chuckle before he took one final deep breath and let it out. His obsidian eyes seemed to dim as this last breath fled from between his lips.

Eric gasped as he heard this and, not wanting to lose the last friend he had left, clutched onto Dark’s body and held him close, his head lolling over and landing limply onto Eric’s shoulder.

He sat there, clinging to Dark’s body amidst the massacre of his family that had taken place just mere moments ago, and cried for hours on end.

This was truly a nightmare that Eric would never wake up from.

#markiplier fandom #markiplier egos #eric ericson #darkiplier #actor mark #wilford warfstache #bim trimmer #googleplier #bingiplier #dr iplier #markiplier the host

[cafcaf22]

Accidents Happen

Chapter 1.

Stardew Valley's newest farmer tends to keep to herself. That is, until she bumps into the Town Doctor. Accidents Happen, y'know.

For someone who works their ass off on a farm by herself each and every day, it doesn't seem like making friends would be the most difficult task on the planet. But it is.

You moved to Stardew Valley a little over a year ago, and you're still stuck in the same horrible cycle: Wake. Eat. Feed the animals. Water the plants. Fish. Eat. Sleep. The routine has yet to change. You spend the majority of your days in the same productive, yet monotonous routine. Motivation gets harder and harder to come by, especially as the summer season ends. This coming winter does not look like it's going to be your friend.

Some evenings, when you really considered the level of your loneliness, you've thought about heading over to the saloon to check in with your neighbors. You thought about it most during the hot days when you needed a refresher after a long day. However tempting a cold glass of beer may be after working up a sweat pulling hundreds of blueberries off the vines in the summer heat, you always ended up chickening out. A common thing for you. You wanted to try- you wanted to reach out, but what would you even say? Hi! I'm the girl who's been isolated on her farm for the last 4 seasons, it's nice to finally meet you! How weird would that be? You didn't want to cause a scene - you never really liked the attention that much, so it wasn't worth the attempt.

One day during the last week of the summer, you stopped by Pierre's to check out some fertilizer for the coming fall season. As you strolled the aisles, eyeing the shelves and brushing past the baskets of the daily offerings, you overheard a lot of chatter about hanging out in the saloon on weekends. The courage you'd need to show up there on its busiest day... Hell, sometimes even Sundays had great turnouts. I probably shouldn't, you thought. If I showed up, it would make everything awkward. They don't even know me that well, and how am I supp-

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a body being slammed straight into your side.

"Ow!" You yelped as your wicker basket was thrown onto the ground. You immediately clutch your left side in pain and feel a sharp piercing in your lungs, as the cold floor of the shop shocks your cheek. You blink at the ground, massaging your side as you try to inhale. But that's when you realize you can't. You blink rapidly, trying to take a breath, but the air never fills your lungs. You clutch your chest, trying to feel the rise and fall, but your heartbeat is the only continuous movement. The thumps grow faster, harder. You start to feel dizzy, clutching your chest on the cold floor. I'm hyperventilating. I can't breathe. Am I having an asthma attack? Oh, Yoba. I'm having an asthma attack.

"Oh- Oh my... I am- I'm s-so sorry! Are you alright?" A voice bursts from over your left shoulder as you double over on the ground in pain, trying to find your breath. Fucker knocked the wind out of me, you thought to yourself. You could barely breathe. I need my inhaler- Is it at the farm?  The voice continued to apologize, unsure as to whether or not they should step in to aid you. You tried to take another breath, but your lungs fought hard. Fuck, I- I can't breathe, I can't-

"I- I must have knocked the wind out of you..." The voice says to himself, but you don't even register it. You squeeze your eyes shut, clutching your side and focusing on the movement of your chest. It feels like nothing and everything at once. You inhaled to feel the cool air enter your lungs, but it didn't happen. Your body felt like a deflated hot air balloon. The voice continued on behind you, mentioning something about sitting up straight and taking deep breaths. You just want it to stop, can't it shut up already? I can't breathe, I can't-

"Oh my- here! Look at me!" The voice boomed, closer now. He was above you, blocking the overhead lights of the general store. You uncurled from your ball, struggling to breathe. All that comes out are course whispers.

"Inhaler..." You managed to grunt. In less than a few seconds, a cold plastic is pressed against your lips.

"Here," the voice says gently. "I- It's mine, but it will do." The voice spoke again. Everything suddenly grew blurrier, and the voice's words became slurred. You barely made out the deep green coat that blocked all of your view, but it was soft and warm against your skin. "Breathe in," the voice said calmly. You blinked wildly, remembering that you needed to actually inhale. You take a deep breath, and taste the medication as it enters your mouth, and flows smoothly into your lungs. You finally gained some sense back. As you sat back against the aisle of the grocery store, you glanced up for the first time.

Your savior kneeled in front of you, an anxious look spread across his face. Large brown eyes took over yours, encompassing you into his with no effort at all. You stared deeply into them, locked in a trance that never seemed to end as you swam in the honey that swirled within them. His glasses sat on the edge of his nose, ignored in the face of your injury and in dire need of a cleaning. A thick mustache framed the lower portion of his face, complementing the way that his cheeks sat happily above them. He smiled the most endearing smile you had ever seen.

"I am... so truly sorry." He spoke, words of pure velvet. This voice, you thought. That's the voice.

After a few moments of slow, medicated breathing, you were finally able to speak.

"Thank you... I think?" You whispered, glancing down at his hand that held a firm grip on your shoulder. He glanced down, recognizing his steel grip on your arm, and quickly released.

"Can you breathe a-alright now?" He asked, leaning back slightly after realizing how close he had been.

"Yes," you replied confidently while fighting a cough at the base of your throat. "I haven't had an asthma attack in months... I usually keep my inhaler on me, but I guess I left it at the farm," you muttered to yourself, attempting to stand up.

"Hey, let's be careful here," he chuckled, lightly elevating your elbow and guiding you to stand. You glanced into his eyes again, hoping to have his meet yours. He seemed to avoid any effort. "I am so sorry for running into you like that... I would tell you the reason why, but it will sound a lot worse out loud." He chuckled again, running a hand through the back of his hair and fidgeting with the pocket of his pants. You raised your eyebrow, giving him a curious look.

"W-Well... I usually stand out in the garden across the pavement, and there seemed to be a..." He drew out the end of his sentence. You narrow your eyes at him, a playful smile spreading across your lips. "A... bee."

You couldn't help but let out an ugly chortle, the first of a real laugh in months. You had barely mustered up a small smile since you'd been in Stardew, not to mention the horrors of your old 9-5 desk job for Joja Cola. To be able to laugh freely in the company of someone else made you feel years and years younger; it was a feeling that reminded you of how often you got to interact with others - which was not much. The laugh quickly turned into a nasty cough, your lungs screaming at you to calm down.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to laugh like that, it just kind of..." but you trailed off the end of your sentence in order to take in the beauty that was his laugh. He began to speak in fits of giggles, clutching his lower belly and covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle the beautiful sounds that escaped from his lips. His lips.

"No, I'm sorry!" He exclaimed in between giggles. You smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to continue on. You weren't the greatest at conversation, but it seemed like he wasn't either, so the two of you appeared to be comfortable in acknowledging the oddness of the whole situation. "I'm Harvey, by the way."

Your heart fluttered. Harvey. The man who saved me from asphyxiation. Well... The man who almost caused my asphyxiation.

He cleared his throat, and you realized you had been silent for a moment. You gave him your name and smiled, feeling your heart beat at the thought of finally having a friend. Maybe.

"How come I haven't seen you around at the clinic before?" He asked, eyes gazing into yours a little more intensely.

"Oh, I don't usually have any issues," you spoke quickly, trying to avoid the topic altogether. Doctors made you nervous. The ghostly white rooms. The empty hallways. The cold, metallic utensils pressed against bare skin. The intense questioning, and the way you're forced to admit things to a stranger about your own personal problems... Not a great way to spend your time.

Why would he mention the clinic? Does he- Oh... Fuck.

"So... you must be the Town Doctor?" You asked, kicking yourself on the inside for being so stupid. How could I be so stupid?

He blushed, and your heart soared. "You could say that, yes. However, I don't see many patients currently- which, I guess is something I should never complain about... I don't ever want to wish ill-will upon my patients. I don't think that's what came across, but I just wanted to... uh, make that clear," he sputtered awkwardly, attempting to save himself from embarrassment. His cheeks continued to flush a bright red. "Oh, and I understand that you don't necessarily have any... 'issues'... But feel free to come by my clinic tomorrow afternoon for an additional inhaler. Free of charge, of course. It's all that I can give you after certainly causing your episode today- which, I am still so terribly sorry for. I just really, really hate bees."

He spoke the words so quickly, you had to remind yourself to breathe as you comprehended everything he said. Mainly because you were busy staring into the void that was his eyes. Beautiful, golden brown. Heavenly.

"Of course, Doctor," you reassured him.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow!" He exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically. You smiled in return and bent down to pick up the basket that had fallen just moments prior. "Oh, let me grab that for you-" said Harvey, beating you to the wicker basket. Your heads knocked together, clunking against each other as you both attempted to stand up. You both groaned, rubbing your heads and awkwardly glancing at the floor as if eye contact would cause another ruckus.

"Maybe we should wear helmets," you spoke softly, attempting to alleviate the awkward.

"Maybe," he sighed. "I'll see you around, Farmer." He smiled softly, and swiftly walked out of the store.

Farmer. How did he know I was a farmer?

#stardew valley #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #sdv #fluff #fanfic #harvey fanfic #female reader

[pandemilkbread]

devil 007 (prologue)

devil 007 (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

summary:

(demon!au)

Turns out Bakugo Katsuki never wanted to eat your soul, rather he just needed someone to play video games with.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :>

                                                    ☆     ☆     ☆

𝑖. 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

“That was a fucking accident.”

“An explosion that big is not an accident!”

You might be wondering how the hell were you hanging on the tallest building in the underworld holding on to a pipeline for your dear life. While your notorious partner-in-crime Bakugo just watched as you dangled ninety feet in the air. 

“I swear if I die I will shitting haunt you for all eternity! You’d be fed up with all my shit the moment my soul reaches your territory. Just imagine, me annoying you fore—“

“Jump.” He grumbled. 

No. Jump? Hell no. You’d rather die than jump into his arms. Bakugo was more likely to miss, and you’d fall (probably five storeys) before he dare tried to save you. 

You wanted to scream. How all this happened in the first place, you hardly remember. No, you did remember. 

It was all because of that stupid book. 

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

It was a mishap, really. The wrong book got delivered to the wrong place at the wrong time, and exactly the wrong thing happened as a consequence. 

You were a college student who had just finished the semester, and frankly... a miserable one you were. Failing a quiz was one thing, but you had to mess up your finals so badly a retake wouldn’t suffice. You had to take up the subject all over again. 

Sighing, you lay flat on your back. The ceiling had this magical property to suck up all the negativity in your life. 

(it didn’t. but you’d like to think so.)

You had all the time in the world to repeat the subject. The problem? Cash. Having a scholarship at a prestigious university wasn’t easy. One measly failure could mean bye-bye free tuition fees and hello student loans that could last centuries + a liver.

Doomed you were, honey. You groaned. At least the treasury board approved the student allowances; which meant? The poor student (you) finally bought the heavy shitass syllabus for your major. The subject you failed. 

It could take weeks for the parcel to arrive. What did you expect? You only ordered it days ago. The sooner it gets here, you’d be studying your ass off until 5 A.M. for weeks. Hooray. 

A sudden ring of the doorbell awoke you from your senses. Huh, it did arrive earlier than you expected. You scooted towards the door and twisted it open. There lay a box wrapped in tape, a sticker with the words ‘fragile: handle with care’ shone in bright yellow. 

You picked it up and shook the item. It was lighter than you expected. How the heck did a 700 page book become as light as a diary? Did they send you the wrong thing? Crap. You scoured the whole box to find neither details about who the recipient nor who the sender was. 

Oh, well. Did that mean you could keep whatever was inside? You grinned. Opening up the box, you find out it was a vivid red book entitled:

Ultimatum Wishes: The Ultimate Spellbook for Summoning Demons! All your wishes will come true! Follow the instructions inside. 

Yeah, right. Like you could summon a demon to send you a trillion yen.

(apparently, doubt didn’t stop you from trying.)

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

First of all, what the actual fuck. 

Your curiosity got the best of you. The instructions were pretty easy; sugar, salt, dirt, water, a jar of mayonnaise, a drop of blood— basically, the usual ingredients for summoning demons. Like that’s shitting normal? You had to mix them all together and spread them into the circle you drew on earlier. 

Second, did you really summon a demon?

You were obviously not in your dorm room. It was bigger, darker, and colder to what you were accustomed to. After saying a stupid chant, you make a wish and boom! demon comes to you. So the instructions said. 

It was a joke, really. You never thought the book was actually real! Once you said your wish, a bright light flashed and... you were here. A basement like room devoid of light, making your fingers the only things you could see at the moment. 

You were sprawled on your back, staring at your hands. If only your eyes could adjust to the light then you would be on your merry way to finding the exit. Except, that you didn’t really need to adjust. The lights opened with a flash and you were met with red eyes:

“Took you long enough, brat!”

Lastly, who the hell was this?

The moment you and this miniature bomb exchanged looks, and he realized that you weren’t the person he was hoping for, the man grabbed the collar of your shirt lifting you high up to the ceiling. 

“How the fuck did you get here stupid human? Pretty gutsy of you to just waltz in like you own the place, hm?” He growled, slightly shaking you with every syllable he uttered. 

You barely registered it, you-know before you were lifted up, but this person in front of you was terrifying. He radiated waves of “answer properly or i’ll rip you into shreds” and you didn’t want to die.

(not at least before smacking this crappy brute.)

“Put me down you—you crappy dog! Treat me nicely and I’ll tell you everything,” You choked. 

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re really haggling with me now, maggot? The last time I checked I could easily squeeze the fucking life out of you—”

“T-The book! Shitty book! Followed it and I’m here!”

And with that you were dropped onto the floor. You yelped upon impact, rubbing the area of your neck with your fingers. That hurt.  Your eyes hovered to your assailant and saw his frustration building up. Hoo, a little bit more and he’d be on fire. 

“...How’d you get it?” 

“Sent to my doorstep. D-Didn’t think it was real I thought—”

“You opened it knowing it wasn’t yours?”

“Oh, no you aren’t! Don’t blame me for your shitty mistake in the first place!”

“Watch your tongue, human.”

You sighed. Everyone knew you were someone who wouldn’t back down from a fight, but your senses told you otherwise. There was a fine line between pissing him off and stabbing you in the heart, you knew you were likely closer to the latter part of the scale. 

“Fine. Whoever that package was sent to, it came to me instead. Why am I here?”

He contemplated for a while, searching for the right words to spout out. Oh God no. Were you brought here as a sacrifice? You shook your head. Anything but that! Sweat dribbled down your forehead. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“...to kill...”

Yeaph. And with that, you blacked out. 

(imagine, fainting from your own demolition. oh, you hope you didn’t actually break a bone or two.)

☆     ☆     ☆     ☆     ☆

You awoke to a strange tapping noise, more like a smack, and groans of infuriation. The vivid colors of black, pink, and yellow caught your attention, making you stare in awe. Was that Mario Kart...?

The clicking sound came from the blonde who sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes drawn to big television screen in front of him. While you were on a black couch around three hands away from the man. Seemingly, he could sense your tiny movements as you sat up, compelling him to chuck a controller at you. 

“You gonna play or what?”

Huh? You took the object, feeling the texture in your hands. It’s been a while since you held a controller; even longer since you played a game at all. The game home screen flashed, the cursor hovering over the “new game” button. He clicked it forcing the game to switch into the character screen. 

The man picked Bowser. Ah, not surprising. You grinned as you chose Princess Peach.

The game began immediately after and you thought, wow. You sucked at this game! Your cart hit track walls, bounced on boulders, special items that you sent managed to hit you instead. Rigged, this must be rigged! Just because the last time you played the game was ten years ago, doesn’t automatically mean you were shit at it.

Your companion thought differently.

“You’re crappy at this game.” He sneered.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just the first game! A warm-up, you’ll see.”

And yes, he did see. See you fail round after round, time after time, the twenty games you played seemed to only prove your awful skills at a simple multiplayer game. You groaned. How was it possible to lose this much? Even the computer controlled characters beat you senseless. 

Gently placing the controller on the sofa, you wrapped your arms around your knees. Was this a test? A test to see whether if you were worth killing? Oh boy, you would have been slaughtered at the first playthrough. 

“Are you going kill me now?” You murmured. 

If this was how you were going to go, at least you had fun. Well, you did lose more times than you could count. But hey, it was enjoyable. 

“Ha. You think I’d let you go that easily?” He stood up, turned and grabbed the controller. “You made a pact with me, and now you’re gonna run away?”

His other hand reached for your chin and pulled it up, your eyes meeting his. 

“What’d you wish for, princess?”

alright. so that’s the prologue! thank you for reading. i’ll have the chapter one ready soon. so pretty much, what happened was: you received a package. bored as you were followed the instructions and summoned a demon. except, you were actually summoned somewhere else to bakugo no less. 

the introductions come on to the next chapter!! please leave a like if you like it aaaaa it would mean alot ;;;;

#bakugo katsuki #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios #bnha fics #devil 007

[jjmaebank]

wish you were gay - jj maybank

A/N: So I wrote this based off my own first heartbreak haha fun! Yeah fr, this all comes from the heart and I literally poured my real emotions and experience into this so it’s really special to me. The song ‘wish you were gay’ by Billie Eilish just reminds me of it cuz I listened to it on repeat getting over it and I related to it. If you haven’t heard it I highly recommend! Also italics are flashbacks!

Summary: you and JJ had something you thought was real, you fell for him and you thought he’d fallen for you too, but this becomes an evident lie as he makes a rash decision that ends in disaster.

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Words: 1,802

+

Heartbreak. Heartbreak is a perpetual feeling that something bad is about to happen. It’s grief, fur-lined with fear that joy has forever escaped you, that there will be no happily ever after for you. Heartbreak is a tightness in your chest; it makes air feel like razor blades moving through you. It’s waking up in the morning and having three seconds where you don’t remember, and those three seconds will be the only part of the day where the dread doesn’t sit and fester in your gut.

Heartbreak was what you were feeling. After a full day of acting alright, like everything was fine and going back to normal, you’d go home and cry. You’d cry until your body was physically exhausted, to the point where you had no tears left, to the point where your face was sore. You’d cry until you felt physically and emotionally drained and then you would just lay in your bed staring up at your blank ceiling, basking in your own self-pity.

What had gone so terribly wrong? You couldn’t wrap your head around it even weeks afterwards. It kept you up at night, gnawed at you incessantly, played in the back of your mind constantly. Were you unlovable? Were you never going to be good enough for anyone? Why was it that everyone you let in pushed you away, abandoned you as soon as you let your guard down?

+

You and JJ were lying on John B’s couch after a night of partying, the both of you still a little drunk. You were wrapped up in his arms as he stroked your hair and placed sweet kisses on your forehead. You looked up at him in adoration and placed your hands on his bare chest.

“(y/n),” he said nervously, meeting your gaze.

“Yes?” You smiled, his anguish causing your heart rate to quicken.

“I’ve just been thinking, like…we’ve been messing about for a while now…and I guess I uh don’t really know what we are, but I know that I um…like you, like a lot…” he blabbered, removing his hand from you waist to scratch the back of his neck.

You continued staring at him, your mouth curling up in a smile as you felt him squirm underneath you as he tried to pluck up the courage to say what he’d been meaning to for weeks now.

“I guess…I uh guess this is me asking whether you wanna go out with me?” He asked, avoiding eye contact, too scared to see your reaction.

You grabbed his chin gently and tilted his head down to look at you.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled. You’d wanted to hear those words for a while now.

“I- uh, yeah,” he replied nervously.

“Well then, yes,” you grinned, watching his eyes widen and his cheeks go crimson.

“Yes? As in yes you want to be my girlfriend?” He stuttered.

“What else would I be saying yes to you dumbass,” you chuckled, making him go red.

He pulled you into a tighter embrace, his whole being consumed by joy.

“Thank god,” he gasped, “that shit was scary.”

+

You remembered that night clearly, you’d never been so elated. The confusion and uncertainty between the two of you completely erased as you finally confessed your feelings for one another. You’d never felt so good in your life. You loved him, you hadn’t told him that yet, but he wanted you to be his girlfriend and that was enough for you at the time. You finally got the clarity you needed, that he was yours and you were his and nothing would change that…or so you thought.

It didn’t take long for things to go south between you and JJ, perhaps a little over a month. One of the best months of your life soon turned into the worst, all in one night.

+

“What is up with you?” You yelled at JJ. He’d been ignoring you all week, coming up with excuses not to see you and avoiding your texts and calls.

“I’ve just been busy, alright!” He yelled back, his voice laced in frustration. He was keeping something from you.

“Bullshit, J! You’re not too busy for John B, for Pope, for Kie! You’re apparently only too busy for me!” You shouted. “What aren’t you telling me?”

JJ sighed and sat down on John B’s couch, running his hands through his messy hair.

“Did I do something?” You whispered, sitting down across from him.

“No…no…” JJ shook his head, staring down at the wooden floorboards.

“Then what is it?” You pleaded, your voice threatening to crack at any moment. “Why don’t you talk to me anymore?”

“I fucked up (y/n)…” JJ said, finally looking up at you. His eyes showed pity, guilt even.

Your heart felt like it had sunk to your feet. What did he mean he fucked up? Had he cheated? A million thoughts raced through your mind as you processed his words.

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your heart now beating at a speed you didn’t know to be humanly possible.

“I lied to you (y/n),” his lip trembled; he was holding himself back from crying. You’d only seen JJ cry once, after telling you about his father, so it scared you that he was showing signs of it again.

“You lied? What do you mean you lied, JJ?” You asked, your voice raised yet still shaky.

“I told you I wanted you to be my girlfriend,” he stated, his eyes still glazed with guilt.

Your breath hitched as you took in his words. Out of the million things that had crossed your mind, this was not one of them.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n), I really thought I wanted this…” he continued, his voice strained. “We had a lot of fun and I really like hanging out with you, but I just…I can’t do this…us…”

You felt sick. You felt a sob making its way up your throat as you felt your heart breaking, shattering into tiny pieces.

“So this was all a lie?” You choked, “I never meant anything to you?”

You could see the hurt in his eyes seeing what he’d done to you.

“I’m so, so sorry (y/n),” he shook his head, “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Bullshit!” You stood up from your seat, tears streaming down your face. “You don’t just fuck with someone’s feelings on accident!”

“We were drunk (y/n)!” JJ stood up. “I thought I knew how I felt, but I didn’t and I’m sorry! I was wrong okay? Fuck! I was wrong!”

“Alcohol doesn’t give you feelings for someone out of the blue, JJ,” you cried, “so you must’ve lied that night. You must’ve lied right to my face when you told me you liked me! When you told me you wanted me to be yours!”

You could barely see through your tear coated eyes and the taste of salt stung your lips.

JJ simply stood there in silence, shame overcoming him. He knew he was an idiot and he hated himself for it. He cared for you, he really did, but he knew leading you on anymore would just hurt you more than he already had.

“I just don’t think I’m a relationship type of guy (y/n)…I’ve tried but I can’t be the guy you want me to be… I’m sorry…” he sighed, sticking his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, biting his lip and sniffling.

“To think I was going to tell you I loved you…” you muttered, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

JJ’s eyes widened at your confession, “(y/n)…I-”

“Save it, JJ,” you interrupted, “You’ve made it very clear how you feel.”

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry,” he mumbled, letting a single tear slip down his cheek.

“I really hope you are,” you cried grabbing your stuff, “and I hope that you never do this to anyone ever again.”

+

JJ Maybank had broken your heart, that was a fact. The first boy to make you feel wanted, worthy, was the same to absolutely ruin you. You spent countless nights crying yourself to sleep, blaming yourself for what had happened, convincing yourself that you could never be loved. You had to spend time away from the pogues at first, you couldn’t bear to see JJ, you wouldn’t let him see what he’d done to you just. For him to pity you.

You were so embarrassed by what had happened that you longed to blame it on anything other than the truth, the truth that JJ simply didn’t love you and he never would. But what hurt the most was thinking that he could have. The time you spent together felt so real that you couldn’t comprehend how he could discard it with such ease, just pretend like it had never even happened. He’d given you a taste of the happiness you’d craved so dearly and then ripped it away from you in the blink of an eye, that’swhat hurt the most.

What a fool you were, thinking a boy notorious for one night stands and meaningless hook ups could ever settle down permanently with the likes of you. You dreamed of being the one who he came to when he was sad, of being the first person he confided in after a beating from his father, but that’s all it was, a dream. He hardly let you in, despite your many efforts. The truth was you weren’t the first thing he thought of when he woke up, or the last thing before he fell asleep. He didn’t fantasise about your lips and the way it felt to kiss you, or how it felt to hold you or hear you laugh; he took you for granted.

You wished you could have been that girl in the movies, the girl that gets the player to change his ways and fall for her, the girl that makes him never want to be with anyone else ever again, but you weren’t her and you never would be.

+

A/N: whoooosh I haven’t written in a good 2 weeks or something so idk there you have it

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If you want to be removed from my tag list at anytime just drop me and ask or message me! No offence taken lol. And if you want to be added just click the link in my bio :))

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #rudy pankow #obx #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank fic #fic #imagine #jj imagine #outerbanks

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 1) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: 

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts 

There are a few background stories for Logan and Patton’s relationship that are also unnecessary to read, but expand their backstory a bit. They can be read before or after this story. Coffee Shop Meet Cute and Coffee Shop Incident Report deal with their first meeting, The Things We Never Mentioned talks about how Patton figured out Logan was bluebird, and Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out is how they started dating.

Logan woke slightly colder than he should have been with a presence in his bed that had not been there when he’d fallen asleep. He squinted at said presence in the dim light of his bedroom. “You are a blanket thief,” he informed the sleeping form as he carefully brushed a bit of hair out of his face. He stirred a bit, pressing back against the touch with a soft sound. Logan glanced over at his bedside table and quickly reached over to turn off the alarm that was set to go off in 4 minutes. Then, he turned his attention back to the bed invader.

“Patton,” he called softly, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss across his brow. He puffed out a breath in response and shuffled closer, still mostly asleep. Logan smiled. He appreciated Patton in any state, but sleepy Patton held a special place in his heart. He started peppering kisses down his cheek to his jaw causing his nose to twitch as he started to stir. “Good morning dear.”

“Uhm nuh humba na ha.”

“Ah yes,” Logan replied seriously, “a compelling argument.”

He was still not quite in the waking world, but he was conscious enough to recognize the mocking. He whined and slapped Logan’s shoulder softly. Logan took that as a cue to roll on top of him and lean forward to kiss his neck.

“No,” he whined and wiggled. “Annoying.”

“Annoying huh?” Logan asked into his neck. “Big words for someone guilty of breaking and entering.”

“No breaking,” Patton complained, “I have a key!”

Logan hummed in response. “When did you get here?”

“About 4am,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” Logan said and gave him a slow kiss on the lips. “I’ll close the curtains when I get up.”

Patton’s legs wrapped around his waist and he yawned. “Thanks.”

“I am going to have to get up pretty soon dear,” Logan pointed out.

“No,” Patton whined, “snuggles.”

“I think my students may not be happy if I do that,” he said.

Patton snorted. “They would too.”

“Well, at least my supervising professor wouldn’t be happy.”

Patton just grumbled and snaked his arms around Logan’s neck before pulling him down for another long kiss.

It took much effort for Logan to pull himself back. “This is entirely unfair,” he said, fingers tracing patterns over his cheeks. “You are far too adorable to resist.”

Patton giggled which was even more unfair and Logan surged forward for another kiss, though it was a quicker peck this time.

“And yet you resist me,” Patton said when he drew back again, a finger tracing his brow.

“Duty calls,” he responded.

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

“I love you,” Logan said. The hand on Logan’s shoulder clenched into the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you too,” he said, a bit of a shake to his voice before lunging forward to kiss him thoroughly once again. Logan was breathless by the time they finally drew apart.

“I do have to go now,” he said regretfully.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and released his grip on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan regretfully pulled himself from the warmth that was Patton and stood. He went to his window and pulled the curtain to darken the room before going to his closet. The suit he’d picked up from the store yesterday was front and center, and he touched the outside of the white plastic covering it with a soft smile. Then he grabbed his outfit for the day. When he turned back around, Patton had already closed his eyes and curled himself around an extra pillow. Logan paused and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek before going to change and get ready in the bathroom.

Once he was dressed, he entered his kitchen and his eyes immediately found the note on his countertop. Don’t forget to eat breakfast! :) <3 was scribbled in Patton’s messy scrawl on one of Logan’s sticky notes. Logan puffed out a laugh and went over to start the coffee machine. He reached for his coffee cup and caught sight of another sticky note inside it. Don’t ignore me. >:( it read. Logan shook his head and went about organizing his school supplies in his bag. He pulled out his planner to check his schedule for the day and another note fell out. Logan…

“Fine, fine,” Logan said aloud and walked over to his cabinet to grab the loaf of bread there. A note was taped to the top. Thankyou! <3<3. “Absolutely incorrigible,” he said fondly. He gathered up that note as well as the other three while he waited for the bread to toast and stuck them in his pocket. He spread peanut butter on his toast and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking his breakfast and his planner into the extra bedroom he’d converted into an office.

There was a pen sitting on his desk out of place and Logan bit his tongue in agitation, picking it up and sitting down on his chair. He took a bite of his toast and opened his planner to his to do list for the week. The calendar next to it had his class schedule in black pen, his personal appointments in green, and his study schedule in dark blue ink. His Saturday had been blocked off from 3pm to 11pm with a lighter blue inked pen. He went to check off one of the tasks he’d finished last night, and nothing happened.

“I’m going to kill him,” he told the empty room before rolling his chair over to the trashcan to throw out the empty pen. It clinked against the two already in the trashcan. He swore Patton had the latent superpower to summon inkless pens and the more time he spent at Logan’s apartment, the more accumulated despite Logan’s best efforts. It was a source of endless torment for Logan but still a small price to pay for his boyfriend’s presence.

Once he’d grabbed a functioning pen from its place in his pen holder and finished editing his weekly task list (Though there were a few important exclusions in this week’s list in fear of prying eyes. He would have to remember to call the photographers to confirm between his first and second class without a note to remind himself.), he reached into his pocket for this morning’s notes. He glanced up at a spot on the far wall that was too high for him and, more importantly, Patton to reach without buying a ladder. Well, at least, it would be too high for Logan except for one important fact. He flicked his finger and a small hidden door slid up. The contents of the secret compartment shot into his hand with barely a mental nudge.

He opened his desk and found the stack of different colored paper he kept there. He flipped past the dark blue and red to get to the pieces of light blue paper in the exact shade of the cover of the binder he held in his hand. He selected one of those pages and used the hole puncher on his desk to prepare it to go into the binder before he carefully arranged the notes from Patton on it in chronological order. Then, he pinned each of them down with pieces of tap and wrote himself quick notes next to each to remind himself of where he’d found them. Once finished, he turned to the binder. He touched the cover with a large amount of fondness and a bit of mortification because honestly, he couldn’t believe he was still doing this.

He’d started taking notes on Patton the moment they’d met in a coffee shop over three years ago. Later he would learn that Patton had just gotten off of a long shift at the hospital and was utterly exhausted, but all Logan had known at the time was that a strange man bumped into him and would have spilled an entire cup of hot coffee on him if it hadn’t been for Logan’s own quick reflexes. Unfortunately, those quick reflexes had not been of the physical variety; he had accidently used his powers to stop the cup and its contents in midair. He’d turned wide eyes to the stranger, dreading a reaction. There weren’t exactly many supers with telekinesis who lived in the state after all, but he’d just said “good catch” as though he hadn’t noticed Logan’s attempts to ruin his own secret identity. Logan hadn’t known whether or not to believe him when he acted as though he’d seen nothing, worried about who this man could be and what he could be planning. (Patton would later tell him that Logan probably could have floated into the coffee shop upside down and kicked Patton in his face, and he wouldn’t have noticed that day.) So, he’d written up an incident report for his red files with all the details he could remember and then resolved to keep an eye on the man in case he was lying and plotting to take action against Logan (he hadn’t been). And well, he had certainly ended up keeping an eye on Patton.

Later the binder had become a cumulation of frankly embarrassing records of his crush along with a failed list of steps to get a date (failed because while executing the third step, Patton had asked him out.) Then, once they’d started dating, it had been a sort of crutch, filled with hypothesizes and observations about Patton as though he were some sort of science experiment. Logan had never had any type of romantic relationship before (barring the two embarrassing incidents where his parents attempted to set him up with dates for school dances). He’d vowed when he first put on a mask that he would never date anyone who did not already know his superhero identity. The nice Catch-22 was that Logan had never told anyone that he was Bluebird. Then Patton barreled his way into his life with no regard for Logan’s emotional walls. Logan had been going in blind and the binder had been his way of dealing with the confusing, though wonderful, feelings.

He was better now, more settled, and more comfortable with the peculiarities of sharing so much of your life with another person. Now he only really referred to the binder for specific, important events. Other than that, it was used more like a scrapbook anymore. Logan had trouble throwing away things Patton gave him.

He flipped to the correct section of the binder and placed the page with this morning’s notes in it. His finger traced the smiley face and heart on the first one. Then, he flipped to the back of the binder briefly, tapped the baggy hanging there with his finger, just to double check, before closing the binder and replacing it back in the hidden compartment with his powers.

He drank the rest of his coffee and packed his bag before leaving to get to his 8:30 am class on time. It was Tuesday now. One more normal day today and three more after that.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Labeled Master Post.

My Masterpost.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #tsss #superhero au #memory loss #past child abuse #past child neglect #emotional suppression #self deprecation #gaps in his files #labeled universe #relabeled; refiled #adriana writes

[kinderes]

for forever

Summary: Virgil and Roman decide to have a sibling-free day. Warnings for very brief non-descript injuries, mentions of almost falling / being pushed out of a tree

Word count: 2285

Author’s note: part three of the boys will be bugs au! oops I started writing this almost exactly a year ago, but now that I’m done w/ my ts big bang project I really wanted to get back into this au! 

Virgil was ten years old and not in a great mood when someone tapped on his bedroom window. He groaned and considered ignoring it when there was another, more insistent tap on the window.

“Psst! Virgil! Are you home?” 

Virgil immediately recognised it as Roman’s voice. He drew open the purple curtains covering the window before pushing up the glass and glaring at Roman. “Hey Princey, you know most people just use the front door, right?” 

Roman hoisted himself up onto Virgil’s windowsill and climbed into his room. “That’s exactly what he would expect!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Hiding from Remus?”

At the mention of Remus, Roman let out a loud cry of frustration. “Ugh! You’re lucky you only have to deal with him at school! You have no idea what it’s like to live with such a loud, annoying, obnoxious-”

As if on queue, Virgil’s older brother Remy burst through the door, talking to someone on his phone. “Yeah girl, just gimme a sec,” Remy said, before pressing his phone to his chest and addressing Virgil. “Hey Virge, I’m gonna need you to keep it down in here, I’m trying to talk to Steph ‘cause her boyfriend’s being a real-” Remy stopped, apparently finally noticing that Roman was there. “Oh, is this one of your friends? Kinda thought you were lying about having them, but it’s nice to know you’re not a complete loner. Anyway,” Remy left the room again, leaving Virgil’s door wide open as he continued talking on his phone. 

“Remy don’t leave the door- ugh!” Virgil moved over to shut the door, sliding against it as it shut. “You know what, Ro? I kinda feel like having a brother-free day too, got any place we can go?”

Roman’s face lit up. “You know what, I just might!”

Virgil followed Roman as they both climbed out Virgil’s bedroom window. As they walked, Roman vented his frustrations about his brother. 

“...and he always makes such a mess, which he always blames me for and then I have to help him clean it up! And he always kicks my mattress when I’m trying to sleep! Honestly, I’d switch bunks if the top bunk didn’t give me the high ground.” Roman huffed, then turned to grin at Virgil. “And that’s why I’m adopting you as my new twin brother!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think it works like that. For one thing, we look nothing alike.” 

Roman waved a flippant hand. “We can fix that! We’ll just dye your hair brown, problem solved!”

“Hair colour isn’t the only difference, Princey.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Besides, Dad says I have to be at least a rebellious teenager before I can dye my hair.” Plus we can’t afford it, Virgil added silently, but kept that thought to himself. 

“Well, we’ll have to wait a few years for you to be a teenager, but we can work on the rebellious part! Remus can teach you how to-” Roman paused, catching his mistake. “Wait, no, I’m disowning Remus… guess I’ll have to do it!” 

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, because you’re just as rebellious as Remus is.”

“I am!” Roman protested. “I get in trouble almost as much as he does!”

“Not sure that’s something to aim for, Ro.”

Roman hummed. “Hmm, perhaps you’re right. Ah!” He stopped dead in his tracks, almost causing Virgil to bump into him. “Here we are!”

Roman had led him and Virgil through the suburban streets and down a small wooded track as they had been talking, and they were now standing at the base of a tall tree with a wooden structure wedged between its branches. 

Virgil looked up at it. “A treehouse?”

“A tree castle, actually!” Roman said proudly. “Look, it has a balcony and everything!” He began climbing up the ladder. “Our uncle built it for us last summer, so we hang out here all the time. Of course, Remus won’t be allowed up here anymore but you can still come here!” 

Virgil frowned. “Won’t he be mad at us?”

“Probably!” Roman said cheerfully as he climbed up the last rung and into the treehouse. “You coming?”

Virgil looked at the ladder, then up at Roman. “Y-yeah, hold on.” He slowly began climbing up the ladder after Roman, and was almost to the top before he made the mistake of looking down and a worried noise escaped from his throat.

“Virgil?” Virgil heard Roman’s voice from above him. “Virge, you’re almost up!” 

Virgil looked back up at Roman, and Roman extended his hand towards him. With a shaky breath, Virgil took it and was pulled up beside him.

“So… don’t like heights, huh?” Roman nudged him gently, but even that made Virgil grip tighter to the side railings of the treehouse. 

Virgil tried and failed desperately to not look at the ground. “Yeah, and I uh… I don’t think I can get down.”

Roman hummed in thought. “That could be a problem… or you could just live up here!” He led Virgil further back into the treehouse, where there were two chairs and a couple of random toys scattered about. “I could bring you some blankets and food, and you can take care of the castle while Remus and I aren’t here!”

Virgil sat down on one of the chairs and grimaced. “Yeah, no thanks.”

They hung and talked with each other for a while. After about half an hour, they heard the sound of someone climbing up the ladder behind them, and Remus popped his head up. “Found you!”

“No! You’re not allowed up here Remus, I’ve disowned you!” Roman protested.

Remus climbed up and into the treehouse anyway. “I thought I disowned you last week?” 

“You did, but you took it back in exchange for you being able to use my Switch for the week! Which you then dropped and then mum had to get it fixed, which is one of many reasons why I’m disowning you! And-” he put an arm around Virgil, “Virge’s my new brother!”

Remus let out an offended huff. “That’s not fair! It was an accident, and how come Virgil gets to be your brother?”

“Because I saw him first! Now get out!”

Remus grinned and crossed his arms. “What are you gonna do, push me out? Make me go splat on the ground?”

Roman’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew, no! If you’re not going to get out, then I guess we’ll just leave!” He made a move towards the treehouse’s entrance, but Remus blocked him. “Remus, move!”

Remus grinned wider. “Make me!”

Roman groaned, looking around the treehouse for another exit. His eyes settled on one of the small windows and his face lit up. Without another word, he dashed towards it and started to climb out of it and onto one of the branches supporting the treehouse. Remus and Virgil both rushed to the window and watched as he climbed higher up into the tree.

“You can’t get out that way, you dork!” Remus called after him. Roman looked down at him and stuck his tongue out. Remus returned the favour. 

“He’s getting pretty high up,” Virgil said to Remus nervously. He wasn’t sure if the higher branches looked stable enough to support Roman’s weight. “Hey Roman, you can come down now!”

“Nah, keep going!” Remus called up to his brother. “See how high you can go!” He looked over and saw Virgil’s worried look. “Relax, he’s not gonna fall.”

“Challenge accepted!” Roman yelled back, quickening his pace as he neared the very top of the tree. One of the branches he tried to step on cracked as he put his weight on it. Roman yelped and grabbed onto the branch above him, just as the branch he’d just stepped on broke off and fell down onto the roof of the treehouse. Without much of a foothold left, he clung to the branch and tried to swing his leg up onto it. He looked down at Remus and Virgil, and for the first time looked about as nervous as Virgil felt.

“Okay, so he might fall!” Remus said. His tone was light, but his eyes were wide with panic as he stared up at his brother. 

“R-Remus!” Roman called down, his voice shaking. “I’m stuck, go get Mum!” 

“Yeah, okay!” Remus called back. He looked at Virgil and shrugged. “Not much you can do so just watch him and keep talking to him. Make sure he doesn’t freak out too much!”

Virgil nodded and kept looking up at Roman as Remus rushed out of the treehouse. He heard a whimper escape Roman’s lips.

“Y-you still there, Virgil?!” He said, sounding increasingly more panicked.

“Yeah!” Virgil replied, feeling helpless. “Just hang on, okay?”

“I don’t have much of a choice!” Roman snapped. He readjusted his grip and tried once more to pull himself up with little success.

Virgil looked back towards the ground, checking to see if Remus had come back. He hadn’t of course, since it had only been a few minutes and their house was at least ten minutes walk from the treehouse. Virgil watched as Roman struggled and was beginning to feel like they didn’t have that sort of time. 

Virgil took a deep breath and climbed out of the window and onto the tree branch. His mouth felt dry as he tried not to look down. He began a slow ascent up towards where Roman was, watching the whole time as Roman kept trying and failing to climb up onto the branch he was hanging off of. His grip was shaky at best and the whole time he thought he was going to fall, but soon he was only a few branches below. He took a break for the moment, sitting down and straddling the sturdy branch he was on so he could feel steady even for just a short while. 

Roman heard him and glanced down at him. “What are you doing?!” Roman hissed. “We don’t need two of us stuck in a tree!”

Virgil could see Roman’s arms were starting to shake from holding on. “Dude, you’re gonna fall!”

“No I’m not!” Roman shook his head, but it caused his grip to slip further. He panicked and squeezed his eyes shut as he completely lost hold of the branch and started to fall. 

Virgil realised what was happening and, wrapping his legs tighter around the branch so he wouldn’t slip, reached out his arms in an attempt to grab Roman. He was almost sure Roman was too far away to reach until he blinked and registered that he was holding onto Roman’s arm. Roman, who was now dangling beneath him, opened his eyes and looked up. Virgil could feel his grip wasn’t going to be strong enough with just one arm, so he reached out his other hand towards Roman. Roman used the last of his strength to pull himself up far enough to take it, and Virgil pulled him up onto the branch beside him.

Once they were both sitting opposite each other, they took a second to catch their breaths. Roman huffed. “Well now what?”

Virgil’s heart was pounding in his ears. “You’re an idiot,” he mumbled. 

Roman looked like he was about to say something in response, but just then they heard shouting below them. He peered down to the ground. “Mum?!”

Roman’s mum was standing at the bottom of the tree, carrying a tall ladder under her arm. Remus was standing beside her, waving up at the two of them. It didn’t take long until Virgil and Roman were safely back on the ground.

Mrs Duke pulled Roman into a hug and kissed him on the top of his head. “You are grounded, mister! What on earth were you thinking?!” 

“Remus was chasing me!” Roman defended himself weakly. 

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” Mrs Duke checked Roman over and found a scratch along his left arm. She tutted. “Well, it could be worse.” She turned to look at Virgil. “Are you okay too, Virgil? Didn’t expect you to be up there with him!”

Virgil ducked his head, embarrassed. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“It was my fault!” Roman blurted out. “I was… scared, so Virgil followed me up there. He doesn’t even like heights!” He glanced over at Virgil and smiled. “It was pretty brave of him, Mum.”

Virgil could tell Roman was purposefully leaving out the part where he’d almost plummeted from the top of the tree to avoid getting into more trouble, but the compliment still made his cheeks flush. “It’s fine, no big deal.”

“Well, I think my son’s very lucky to have a friend like you,” Mrs Duke said, smiling. Virgil couldn’t help but smile back. “Now come on boys, I think that’s enough excitement for one day.” She picked up the ladder and tucked it back over her arm.

Roman gave Virgil a quick hug before he left. “Seriously, thank you Virge,” he said quietly as he hugged Virgil. “I’m glad you were there with me.”

Virgil patted him on the back and pulled away. “Yeah. See you around?

“Of course!” Roman said, but his smile faded into a grimace as he remembered he’d been grounded. “Though maybe not that soon.”

“You’ll still see me around!” Remus said, giving Virgil a strong nudge that almost made him lose his balance. “I’m not grounded! That’s weird, Roman’s grounded and I’m not!”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, that’s not gonna last long.”

“Oh, I guarantee it!” Remus said, apparently already having planned something that would eventually get him grounded as well. “See ya, Virge!” Virgil waved goodbye and watched as the two twins and their mum headed home.

au taglist: @nikoipond @sunflowerss0 @sparrow-flightninggale @nye275 @thgjclw  @jellopuffs @kai-the-person @fandoms-will-collide (let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist!! c: I can’t promise I’ll keep it going, but I’ll try to for at least the first couple of chapters!)

#my fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #platonic anxietwins #boys will be bugs au #sdklsd can't believe i finally finished writing this #i missed this au ;u;

[ernestsinclairs]

All American - Chris Powell x MC

Chris Powell x MC (Jena diRetta)

*So I realized that if Chris really does go pro like PB says he does, we never got to see a draft night or celebration or something. So . . . I wrote one up

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

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

The words came out quickly in an unexpected burst. As soon as they had left his mouth, Chris reddened, dropped his gaze, and suddenly became very interested in his tie.

Behind them, the hotel’s television blared loudly with all the news of NFL draft night. A bright flash, and Chris’s face popped up.

“Donna, we’re talking about one of the brightest prospects of this year: Chris 

Powell. He’s the quarterback of the Hartfeld Knights, led them to their first ever National Championship -- I mean, this guy’s got it in the bag. I’m predicting a first round pick for him, if not top 10.”

“Oh definitely, I mean let’s take a look at his stats for a moment . . .”

Jena grabbed the remote and promptly turned the television off.

“None of that right now,” she soothed, running her hands over his already perfect lapels and patting his shoulders. “We don’t need that.”

“I don’t know what I need,” Chris admitted. For the millionth time that morning, his voice wavered.

“But I know what you want, and I’d say that’s more important,” Jena said softly, cupping his cleanly shaven cheek. Chris sighed and leaned into it, worried eyes closing for just a few moments before popping wide open again.

“No, no, relax,” she whispered, dropping her voice even further. “Listen. I’m here. We’ve been through it all -- four years of college, car accidents, murderous frat houses. This is just another thing we’ll get through.”

He didn’t reply and Jena took the chance to press a quick kiss on his lips. He stayed stiff at first, then melted, reciprocating even harder, arms wrapping around her waist and scrunching the fabric of her dress.

“Right . . .” Chris said. “There’s nothing big about this at all. Just, you know, being drafted into the NFL with everyone seeing if I succeed to burn out. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” Jena swore. Her hand snaked up to his well muscled chest and felt his fluttering heartbeat underneath that tailored suit. She didn’t say anything and just looked back up at Chris’s face for a good five minutes. Finally, the heartbeat began to slow.

“Together,” she whispered, taking his hand when he tried to stroke her face and kissing it.

“Together,” Chris promised.

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

The entire auditorium was awash in a flurry of colors and lights. Giant airhorns and sound effects boomed from the speakers, sending waves of vibrations through Jena’s chest. A grip on her thigh tightened and she knew Chris felt it too.

“If they don’t take you, they’re full of shi-” AJ pouted before her horrified mother clapped a hand over mouth.

“AJ, where did you even learn that?” she scolded. “Didn’t I raise you better than that?”

“He did!”

AJ pointed to the next table over where a rowdy Ohio State linebacker was laughing with friends and family.

Jena glanced over at her fiancé. Chris hadn’t noticed a single thing, and remained oblivious to the new catfight that had broken out between his mother and sister. His mouth was set in a gray line, and only his eyes betrayed how nervous he actually was. When his little brother groaned with impatience and threw himself over his lap, Chris lifted a shaking hand to try and pat him before giving up.

“Look at me, Chris.”

He drew a rattling breath and looked into her eyes for exactly one second before looking away.

“Chris.”

“. . . I’m listening.”

“Good. Listen to me, not them, not the crowd, not the commentators. You have a good chance of being chosen. And if not, you have another dream you can follow. This isn’t the end of the world. Just the start of a new one.”

The handsome young man smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering as if he didn’t want to look up and face the blasting music and glowing lights again.

“I’m here. What could go wrong?” Jena teased as she stroked his cheek. The taut muscle worked, then relaxed. Gently shifting to face her properly, Chris took her hand and kissed the little diamond ring from that last night at Hartfeld. 

“Alright, alright, I guess you’re right,” he said, breaking out into his first genuine laugh all that week. “NFL or not, we still have this, and I mean . . . what more could I want? Right?”

“Exactly,” Jena giggled and reached up to poke the tip of his nose. “There we go.”

Suddenly, a loud roar swept over the auditorium, and Chris’s head popped back up. The moment was gone and another was taking its place.

The NFL commissioner walked across the vast stage, a tiny card in his fingers. Chris reached for Jena’s hand, and she gave it willingly. Lacing his fingers in hers, he squeezed her hand tightly. 

The commissioner waited for a few seconds to let the rancor die down, then looked down at the card with a simple little smile.

“And with the third overall pick in the first round,” he started. Once again, he stopped for another agonizing few moments to let the cheering die down.

“With the third overall pick, the California Nightingales select quarterback Christopher Powell, Hartfeld University.”

Chris crumpled in his seat. With a gasp, Jena fell, pulled down by his weight. When he finally lifted his head, tears glowed in his eyes.

“Go, go get what you deserve,” Jena whispered as he leaned in to kiss her. With a tight, happy nod, Chris embraced his siblings who had already jumped on his shoulders, hugged his mother, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jena watched his head bob through as pride overtook here. It had been a long road for him, full of pitfalls like an absent parent, a juvenile record, and four long years juggling every responsibility possible, but he had made it. They had made it. In a few short weeks, their new life would begin. 

Chris strode onto the stage and took a Nightingales cap from an aide. With it securely on his head, he shook the commissioners hand vigorously and held up his new jersey. On the back in neat white letters was P O W E L L .

At last, they had done it.

As he exited the stage, their eyes met and time seemed to slow down. Despite the din of the entire room, Jena could clearly hear what he was mouthing to her from across the entire crowd. 

“I love you!” he mouthed, sparing a few extra waves for his mother and siblings.

She could do nothing but smile back, wiping a tear off her face and sitting back in her chair, suddenly lightheaded.

Jena shook an errant piece of confetti out of here, then caught it as it fell out. No, she would save it as a memory of tonight. She would go home and glue it onto cardstock and frame it and do whatever else she needed just to keep the present alive for a little bit longer.

But the future? Oh, she just couldn’t wait for the future.

#chris powell #chris x mc #chris powell x mc #the freshman #the senior #pb fanfiction #playchoices #choices #choices fanfiction #chris choices #chris playchoices #the junior #the sophomore

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor bound - 47

Honor bound - 47 (tortured for information) - @badthingshappenbingo​​ (requested by @worm-html, anon)

This is a series. Start here. Continued from here. 

Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.

AO3

Cw: torture, blood, death mention

Isaac was busy cutting vegetables for dinner. He had his right hand, still bound in a brace, on top of the cutting board holding the vegetables in place. He handled the knife carefully in his left. Gray had offered to do it. “The last thing you need now is to cut a finger off.” Gray had said it with a laugh. Isaac had insisted. “I want to help. You don’t need to keep me away from the pointy objects.” He’d been smiling, too.

Tori peeked past his shoulder. He moved back to show her his work. “Is this the right size?”

She smiled and nodded. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Sam came into the kitchen, hobbling skillfully on their crutches. It was almost time to get the brace of their leg. Almost. “Can I help?”

Tori moved to shoo them out of the kitchen. “Nope. Thank you, though.” She was smiling gently.

Isaac turned, knife still in hand, a smile on his face too. “Come on, Sam. Be honest. You’re here because you want a sample.”

Sam froze, eyes on the knife.

They’d been around knives in the kitchen before. They’d helped Tori peel potatoes for shepherd’s pie not even a week ago. But something was different this time. Something was wrong.

“If you think this hurts you’re essentially fucked, Sam.”

They stumbled back, losing their grip on the crutch as a hand went up in front of them. Pain lanced through their bad leg. They swallowed. It’s ok it’s ok this is stupid it’s just Isaac it’s just a knife it’s fine it’s ok he’s not here it’s over this is stupid stupid stupid stupid.

“Let me put it to you this way. I’m not going to stop unless you tell me the address of your home base. It’s entirely up to you how long this goes on.”

They started to fall backwards as they lost their balance. Why why why no this is wrong why no this shouldn’t happen I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine.

Gavin yanked Sam’s head back, baring their throat as they sobbed. They pulled desperately at the rope binding their wrists behind them in the chair. He waved the knife in front of their face.

“You sure you have nothing to say? Not a single clue about the address of your home base?”

Hot tears poured down Sam’s face as they tried to turn their head against Gavin’s grip on their hair. “N-no…no…please…”

Gavin sighed. “You’d think by this point you’d have figured out that I’m not fucking around, Sam.” He brought the knife to their left arm, just below the shoulder. Sam flinched away from the feel of the cold metal on their skin, their whimpers turning to screams as Gavin drew the blade across their arm, leaving a line of blood as it went. They writhed away from the pain but Gavin held them steady with an iron grip on their hair.

“No! Please!” they screamed. “No no no…” The knife left their skin and they slumped in the chair, sweating and shaking with relief. They swallowed hard against the tearing feeling in their throat. It’s only been a few hours…not even a day… They cried harder as they wondered how long they would survive. It has to get worse. He’s not going to stop.

“Anything coming to mind now?” Sam gritted their teeth as tears streamed down their cheeks. “Whatever.” He brought the knife to their arm again and drew another line of blood.

Sam twisted as they cried out, biting down hard on their lip. I can’t tell him. He’ll kill them. He’ll hunt them down and kill them. Their mouth opened wide in a scream of agony.

Gavin finished with the cut. Sam moaned, gasping for breath. “Isaac will find me,” they sobbed.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “That’s the second time you’ve brought him up. Who the fuck is Isaac? Brother? Boyfriend? What?”

“He’s my friend,” they shrieked, blood rolling down their arm in a hot line. “He’ll find me, he’ll…he’ll come, he won’t let you do this…”

Gavin snorted. “Um…newsflash, buddy, but…” He waved his hand around the room in a lazy circle, knife still held tight. “…I’m kinda already doing it. How exactly do you imagine he’s going to find you? If he’s even looking. It was embarrassingly easy to take you, Sam. Are you sure this wasn’t an accident? How do you know he wasn’t ready to just shed some dead weight?”

Sam shuddered at Gavin’s words. “No…he would never…he…he’ll come for me, he will…”

“Don’t you think he would’ve been here by now if he was coming for you? I’ve given him plenty of time. Plenty of hints, too. And he just…” Gavin made an utterly perplexed face. “…hasn’t shown up. Weird.”

Sam tried to deny it, tried to say it was all a lie and Isaac was coming for them. The words caught in their throat. What if he’s telling the truth? They shoved the thought away. Isaac will save me, Isaac is coming.

“Welp, in the meantime you’re stuck with me. And I’m curious. If your team is the group that’s been hitting my satellite operations I’d love the opportunity to return the favor. So. Your home base. Tell me or the next one is deeper.”

“No! I can’t, I can’t I can’t I can’t no no no…”

“Ok, hard way it is.” The knife cut into Sam’s arm. Blood flowed immediately from the wound.

“NO! Please, no…please…it’s 37 Rockrest Drive…in…in Teston…please…”

Gavin laughed. “There, was that so hard? Now I know the first place to go once I’m done with you. Honestly not sure how long that’s gonna take, but…” He turned Sam’s head, inspecting their face as they cried. “I’m not in any hurry.”

Sam wailed in despair. He’s going to find them, he’s going to kill me and then go after them… “No…” they whimpered. “No…no, please…don’t…”

Gavin tapped the blade against Sam’s face. They flinched away, crying out weakly in terror. “Thanks so much for that. I’ll be sure to tell them who told me.”

Isaac was frozen for a split second. Then his stomach dropped as he realized what he’d done. He’d had a knife in his hand. Taken a step towards Sam. Maybe that was enough. Nobody else was able to predict their bad days, either. This day was different. This time, for Sam, something was wrong.

He saw Sam take a fumbling step back on their bad leg, knee buckling at the pain it must have caused. Then another step. Sam was going to fall. The knife fell from his hand and he was across the room in milliseconds. His good hand got a grip on Sam’s shirt as his healing one scrabbled against their arm. He didn’t feel the pain as the fingers tried to close.

They collapsed to the ground together in a heap. It took a moment for Isaac to understand what Sam was saying between their hitched sobs.

“Pl- Pl- Pl-lease I-I’m so-sor-sorry nuh- no-o-”

Isaac tried to force down what felt like icewater in his gut. “Sam?” Their eyelids fluttered, their eyes darting around the room, unseeing. “Sam?” His hands shook as he reached out to hold them.

They made no reaction, no indication they even knew Isaac was there. They trembled so violently he could barely hold on to them. He pulled them up to sitting and wrapped his arms around them. They shrunk in his embrace, weakly raising their hands to protect their head.

Tori knelt beside Isaac, Gray right behind her. Isaac swallowed hard, his eyes rising to hers, panicked. “W-what do I do?” He pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling.

“You’ve never seen them like this before?”

He numbly shook his head. “I…I don’t…I don’t think they would keep this from me, I don’t��” Tears brimmed in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen them this way, either.” Gray’s voice was strained. “What do you think -”

“It was the knife.” Isaac pressed his lips to Sam’s hair, distracted, eyes unfocused. “That has to be it. I don’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“Of course not, Isaac. Now just…gently…talk to them. Try to bring them back. Gently.”

He nodded helplessly. “Sam…” he murmured. “Sam, you’re ok…you’re safe…you’re right here with me…”

“Tell them where they are. Sometimes that helps.”

Isaac’s eyes were wide. “Do you want to…um…do it? Do you want to talk to them?”

Tori’s hand rubbed Isaac’s shoulder in soothing circles. “I think it should be you, Isaac. You’re…well…” Tori licked her lips. “They’re yours. It’s ok. You can do it.”

Isaac swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Um. Sam. You’re in Tori’s house…in the kitchen…uh…” He rocked them gently. “You’re not with him. You’re with me. You’re safe. Sam?” He smoothed their hair away from their forehead as they whimpered. “Sam, you with me?”

The words that were falling from Sam’s lips were so strained with tears Isaac couldn’t understand them. He moved his hand lightly through their hair. He was…frightened. His arms tightened around Sam. Scared I won’t get them back.

“Sam? Sam, you’re safe. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Was it the knife? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“N- n- no-o…no…pl-ease…”

“You’re ok, Sam. It’s ok. You’re safe.”

“H- he…G- Ga-avin…”

“He’s gone. He’s in the hospital. He’ll never hurt you again.”

Sam cowered into Isaac’s chest. “P-lease no…”

“I’ve got you, Sam. Is it ok that I’m holding you?”

They nodded weakly. “I…’m s- sorry ‘m s- sorry…”

“Shhh. You’re alright. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Tears rolled down Isaac’s cheeks and into Sam’s hair.

“I- If I had d- died if…i- if I’d ma- made him ki- ill me…he would n- never…you…never…”

“No.” The word was a growl in Isaac’s throat. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t say that to me. Ever. I’d take it all again, a hundred times, if it meant you stayed alive. Do you hear me?” He guided their chin up. Their face was swollen and red and stained with tears. “Don’t say that. Don’t start that. Please.”

Sam swallowed hard. “’m s-sorry I- I’m sorry…”

“Shh. Sam. You’re ok, you’re safe. Can you talk to me? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“He…c-cut me…he…hurt me, Isaac…please…”

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut. “I know. I know he did.”

“M- made me t- tell him…where to f- find you…”

“But we got away. Remember? He can’t find us here. We’re safe, at Tori’s house.”

“T- Tori…” They reached out blindly. She caught their hand between both of hers.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here, too.”

“Th- thank you…T- Tori…thank you…”

Tori’s voice was husky. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Isaac…” They huddled against his chest, hooking their fingers into his shirt and pressing their face there until the sound of their whimpers was muffled. “Isaac…”

He ran a hand through their hair and cradled their head against his chest. “I’m here, Sam.”

They trembled. “P- please…just…will y- you hold me? I’m sorry, I d- didn’t mean…I didn’t…”

“Hey.” Isaac pulled Sam into his lap as he pushed himself backwards, resting back against the wall. “I can hold you. No problem. Is this ok?”

They whimpered, pulling him close as tears burned on their cheeks. “Y-yes. It’s…it’s good. I’m s- sorry.”

Isaac’s cheek rested on the top of Sam’s head. Tori moved closer and sat cross-legged on the floor next to them, rubbing soothing circles on Sam’s back. Gray stood by, watching. They crossed their arms and tried to hold back their own tears. They turned when they heard the others walking into the kitchen.

“What happened?!” Finn practically lunged forward, hands outstretched. Their eyes dropped to the brace still on their left hand and they stopped.

Tori turned, holding out a hand to slow Finn’s approach. “It’s ok. They’re not hurt. They’re just…” She swallowed. “Something happened. They got scared, thought they were back with Gavin. They’re alright.”

Vera crouched beside Tori. Their eyes met for a moment before Vera broke the contact, cheeks flushing red. Tori’s lips quirked up. Her smile fell as she realized that among the lot of them, Isaac and Vera had the best idea of what was going on inside Sam’s head. She gave Vera’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

Finn and Ellis hovered just outside the circle surrounding Sam. Ellis put an arm around their shoulder, resting their head against Finn’s. They wound an arm around Ellis’s waist.

“’m sorry.” Sam’s voice was small. Their eyes were still squeezed shut, their head tucked under Isaac’s chin.

The room melted into a flurry of protestations. Everyone scooted closer until they were within reach of Sam.

“Sam…” Isaac’s voice was a whisper. “Is it ok if we all touch you?”

They sniffled and nodded. Hands were then on their back, their hair, their shoulders. They shivered, unraveling just a little bit and nestling closer into Isaac’s chest.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts​, @womping-grounds, @blue-flare10, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @whumpy101, @whumpywhumper

#honor bound #bad things happen bingo #tortured for information #whump #hurt/comfort #torture #flashback #now back to your regularly scheduled angst #angst #knife #begging #blood tw #death mention tw #i just realized #despite the fact that this whole thing started with Sam being tortured #I haven't actually shown that happening yet #collapse #my oc: Isaac #my oc: Sam #my oc: Gavin

[shipping-turtle-12]

Old wounds

At the time Octane joined the games expecting to get tons of surprises to keep him from feeling bored while he participated there; he wasn’t expecting this to be the place where he will find a piece of his past… Ajay Che was one of the participants in these blood games. Now this took him by surprise, years have past since they last spoke to each other and now by some crazy coincidence their paths crossed once more, now they could work together like before or be against each other in the arena, the ladder being Ajay’s choice; she had drew the line with him, after all he was the one who took their friendship for granted and almost costed her medical career.

While they got paired sometimes Octavio realized how little interest she had to “reconnect” with him she was cold and gave him short and straight responses, and he knew that this wasn’t a treatment shared among the others, she was only like this with him; Ajay was her usual self when she interacted with the rest of the legends; the optimistic, sarcastic, playful and even motherly person he knew was still there but he wasn’t allow to talk to her. This bothered Octane a little but he never blamed her for it, he knew he fucked it up but he wanted a chance to tell her how he really wanted her back in his life as a friend, as a sister.

A few months passed since his debut, and he got along with most of the cast by now, some found him a little too annoying but things were looking up for him in the “making friends” department, although Ajay’s coldness remained but Octane didn’t lose hope and tried some things to catch her attention; like not pushing in when she told him not to, defend the location and not loot when in a fight, he even learned how to be a little more calm; all of this did surprise her, she never expected this behavior from him but this didn’t soften her a bit.

It wasn’t until Wattson and Gibraltar decided to lend a hand and “gently” asked Lifeline to give her old friend one last chance to talk things out, if gently asking her was locking them inside a room so they could talk.

-I can’t believe you would go this low-

-This wasn’t my plan Che-

From the outside Gibraltar spoke

-It was our idea, now, you guys have some long shared history behind and it would be better for you to finally talk about it, Natalie and I will open this door once you talk it through, and just to be clear here, Che you are in your right to not forgive him but it’s obvious that he wants to apologize so please listen him.

With this the medic was trapped, she knew that one day she will have to face him, but she couldn’t have predicted the situation that would force her to talk.

-Ok Silva, you here to apologize? I’m all ears, talk-

Octane was happy for the chance given to him but it would be a lie to say that he was prepared for this, how could he even try to fix this, “can I fix this?” was the question that haunted him the most

-Bueno… where do I start? Hehehe-

-What ‘bout “Sorry for throwing years of friendship down the pipe”? that’s a good start, followed by how little you cared when I put everin’ at risk for ya, or the fact that you never even contacted me again-

-You blocked me on your pho-

-Never thought of callin’ form a different number dipshit? besides I only blocked your for like a week-

-I… never did, and I lost my phone three days later, I wanted to contact you but I couldn’t think of a good excuse and… I t-thought that you w-would be better without me-

His voice sounded shaky, unsure and afraid, he took his mask off for her to face him, after all these years he thought that if he ever got a chance to make things right it would be through Octavio’s perspective, not Octane, he glance back to see a somewhat worried expression on Ajay’s eyes

-Ajay, what I did you was a mistake, I hurt you and… I always have, since we first met, I’ve been a burden to you… I’m a dumb cabron who can’t keep still and get’s into many accidents, accidents that you end up cleaning and I never got the proper chance to thank you for it, that’s why I decided that it was for the best that you never knew from me again, that way you would be happier and would have a better life, with no mess of a… “friend” to drag you down-

Tears ran down from his eyes into the ground, he clenched his fists and bit his lips to try and compose himself. Years have passed since the last time she saw him cry, a vague memory of a young Octavio crying because he blamed himself for his mother departure came to her and reminded Ajay of how close they were. Octavio continued

-M-mira, I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, I don’t think I d-deserve it, but I never stop seeing you as my hermana, te extrañe and I really needed to tell you… gracias por todo-

Ajay got closer to him and hugged him, he was super confused by this, he could’ve sworn that she would hate him forever but she was hugging him and he could hear her slights sobs coming from her

-Y-You’re the biggest dum’ motherfucker I’ve ever known, but I also missed you and I’m glad to hav’ ya back with me-

-Hermanos? -

-Y-yeah-

Both of them cried for a while as they hugged it out, this was the signal for Wattson to open the door and let them out

-Now that vasn’t so bad, vas it? –

Natalie giggle and was happy to see this two back in good terms

-I agree with Nat here brudas, this is something to rejoice-

The gentle giant entered the room and patted the still crying duo. Some days after the rest of the legends noticed the change in their personalities, while Octane remained almost the same he did look happier around Ajay and vice versa, Ajay was softer with Octavio, this didn’t stop her scolding towards him but that has always been a part of their relationship.

#apex #apex legends #octane #lifeline #gibraltar #wattson #octavio silva #ajay che #fanfic

[wammys-house-a]

Page CXXI  ⎯  Secrets

Awoke 5:49  ⎯  Late again.

  Another promise to myself broken

 The room is faded in dawn's bleaching white radiance.

  Spring's heat raises from the folds of my sheets, the collar of my shirt, sweat trickles down my spine as I breath slow, shallow. 

   Luminated dust meets my slumber-drunk vision, floating on my breath, flickering like earth bound stars, like sparkling embers from dragon maws, burning through my dreams.

 ⎯  The illusion is still on my fingertips...

   But slipping away like sand though a glass, 

  In my dreams,

   our home was lit by an unseen power. 

   The walls unmarred by the feeds of electric lines, without outlets, the lamps glowed on golden perches like pygmy suns. I had not believed B, when he said it was the result of a tsuki-mono, a curse passed down through  b l o o d l i n e s...

   But when he held one of the glowing orbs in his hands and I looked into the ivory light, I saw there was nothing there to keep it alive... 

At the heart of this structure, the source of it’s power.

      ⎯   Beneath the house, a secret .

  Ecclesiastical fenestrations cast prismic light into the scaffold ribs like captive rainbows but could not penetrate the underbelly, where stone walls wept ⎯ windowless, their long alleys, narrowed like spires until they converged to a single door  . . .

           Behind it,    truth.  

  B led me down, down into the quiet core where the tear drop lanterns grew dim and died in the night held hostage in our home’s roots. We groped along the walls together, blind but emboldened by the other’s company until he found   it  and pushed open the door.

   Within ⎯  a curtain of light bleed inexplicably from the basement ceiling, like daylight piercing a forest canopy. 

  Resting beneath it’s glimmering veil was a long, polished  b o x  perched on spiraling iron legs that penetrated the concrete floor like the roots of Methuselah. 

    ⎯    Richly veined, it’s scarlet mahogany surface was like that of the floorboards in the halls above, making the  c o f f i n  both familiar and as disquietingly foreign as friend that one has not seen in many years.

    As I drew up to it’s side, my perspective shifted as though I was sinking imperceptibly into the ground, until my line of sight was even with the base of the smooth varnished lip. 

I was suddenly small... Like a child.

    I pressed my weight onto my toes and reaching out blindly, my fingers meeting the chilly facade of the closed lid.

   Dust or static created a strange, phantom-velvet texture, overlaying the polished surface beneath my touch. 

Then, I glided them down,   d o w n

  until my fingers met an indentation . . .

      ⎯  The edges sharp as engraved stone.

  Foreboding grew as I followed the carved line, it enlarging, 

  e l o n g a t i n g , 

            the size of it traced beneath my fingers,  a trail that for an instant I thought might stretch all the way to the foot to crease down it’s throat  ⎯       

           But then ...  I felt it curve ,    slope .

    It was an answer waiting.

         What   l e t t e r   was cut  into the wood⎯ ?

   Startling awake, I opened by eyes to the shimmering sunlight that had penetrated my dreams ... 

 My body, hot and aching with words left unsaid,

       ⎯  " ... I don't want to know . . . "

   ⎯   11:13

   Can I even call what he is doing to me betrayal?

  The desperate hammering of my heart is the same ear filling thump, coming hard against the door as I hid behind it’s brass lock ⎯  Backup’s heel; the buckling, booming rattle of his rage in the background of my agonizing desire to  

just.  

       be.   

                   a l o n e  . . .

                I suppose, I may finally have it. 

This is my fault.    

   In my desperation to delay the end of this game we've spent half our lives playing, I lost sight of my principles. Perhaps, my escalating insincerity and his giftedness, made this ultimately inevitable.

Experience has left me few doubts of his semi-clairvoyance but only now am I considering what his precision implies...

  That there is a fated nature to it all. 

  That I never had a chance.

 It took two ego-bruising weeks, driving my exhaustion bone-deep, before I began to consider that the passion that had sustained me for nearly two decades was fading. My spirit had withered with the effort to reach it more depleting. I began to wonder, if I simply wasn’t good enough to solve this one. 

    Just as despair took hold of me, B's index finger came uninvited over my shoulder and pressed into the screen ⎯ creating a rippling prismatic bulls-eye over one photograph in a sea of over one-hundred-twenty.

 The answer.   The next fatality.

 He handed it to me, without having asked.

 ⎯  Cooperation is forbidden;  it complicates the variables and the validity of the existing hierarchy, it obscures where our loyalties truly lie... 

     I knew it and took it anyway.

      Because I am not who I should be.

   They wouldn’t be questioning him now, if I had not created a trail in retrospect, justifing my  intuition . 

    A thread of truth could be enough to hang me.

   Facing the possibility of losing all that anchors me, I am  on the precipice of a terrible epiphany — choking on the question;  ⎯  " Where does the person I’m trying to be end, and who I am begin ? "  

    I once believed that who I was could be distilled down to it’s essence, that if the parts that did not matter could be cut away;

    the fingers that brace me,

    the feet that carry me,

     the sight that leads me --

   What was left would be  me  ,  a tiny piece of the universe that had becoming miraculously and unmercifully aware of itself...   And, that I could never truly lose myself.

    I am beginning to doubt that.

   And with a fascinated horror, I am beginning to realize that I simply don't know how to be anything other than what I have been trying to be for the last seven years... I don't think I would know who I was if everything but my life was taken from me.

`

   Staring down the barrel of a derelict future, the prospect of my life coming to an abrupt end is disconcertingly comforting...

    Actually,     in the darkness of a loss of this depth,   the alleys that pave the way to massacres are unnervingly clear ...

   and I don't know if who I am beneath Alternative is above  k i l l i n g    y o u    a l l  ...

      That prospect is no longer unthinkable.

    I once asked a senior pathologist if the difficulty of dismembering a body was a limiting factor for suspects, to which they warned me to be careful of assumptions because   almost  anyone  is capable of  almost  anything — given enough time and determination.

    It is particularly poient in this moment as I contemplate how long it would take me to pick all your locks and strangle you in your sheets ...

  Slip thallium into the soup, listen to you all miserably puking out your corroding insides as metallic venom slithers into your brains before they can get it  o u t.

     Trace the opulent halls with ignition fluid following up to your doors with you barricaded inside ... praying for smoke to coat your lungs, to smother you from the inside.

       Watch B crawl out to see the carnage.

      see it dawn on him that this is no accident,

      see a genuine response  — unadulterated by his intellect or prevarication — just raw, bleeding instinct from this animal I've called my friend, becoming at once so mortal and so equal to me, that we can end this era of our lives together in violently, intimate truth ...

   Maybe you would understand, if everything you were was on the brink of utter erasure. You might find that you aren’t who you thought you were either.

  The truth is, I am afraid that if I cannot have it, I can't find it within me to recognize that I owe it to my species, to civilization itself, to let B take it from me.

     Not in this way.

      I don't know how I thought this would ultimately end,   If B would wrench victory from me or if I would wait on a tragedy to eliminate my part in all of this...

  But not betrayal, not when it's my fault.

   I think I was resigned to carry forward indefinitely,   — losing pieces of who I thought I was to the current I've been fighting against,  believing that if I only kept going, and never stopped, I might outrun regret and what could have been.

  Maybe I believed I would rekindle faith again — in myself, in this path, in leaving a better world for the next  A .

  Maybe a world one step closer to not needing an L at all.

 If nothing had stopped me, one day there would have been nothing left but Alternative.  He is not a mask one can take off when it becomes inconvenient, he is a skin you sew yourself into slowly, until his integrity is what's keeping you intact..  A has become a deathbed I realized too late I was making.

        But,  it isn't that I never thought of leaving.

   I could walk away...

   Wandering like a ghost, unhindered by past or societal taxonomy, exempt from the yokes placed on young men to make them whatever is most useful; armed with bibles or guns or shovels to do what needs to be done.

  But, my freedom is overshadowed by the total absence of certainty, my purpose swallowed up by a life concentrated on survival. — Adrift, I know there will be no rescue when any there was lies six feet under and rotting.

        I have no one.       I am no one.

  I know many resent their safety nets while accept cliff sides nesting sleepless vipers. I don't envy them, despite being in freefall myself.     —  At least, I don't have to go home to fight more battles than those I am already losing... 

   That is why I don't resent Wammy's House.

 This path spared me what will haunt so many others — I've no memories captured in the immoral chirons of media posts or infinite digital clouds.

 The voices and faces that once comforted me have been slowly pulled ever-deeper into my conciousness, my mind quietly eating itself alive,   —  

the way nature intended

   I never had the opportunity to agonize over unwashed sheets, holding the last trace of their scent, because there was nothing left for me to hold onto.

  My loss left no footprints for me to follow.

  All I have is the implicit memory of sunlit lilies draped over searing black coffins and the lingering hope that it would mean something ... someday.

 Maybe that's why this is so hard to give up.

   I don't want it all to amount to nothing.

     I have become nothing but    t h i s  , now.

        I am nothing without   t h i s . 

        If he takes everything from me,

         I will leave L nothing to salvage.

I don't want my motives misconstrued.

   What I will  do  with the Backup does not make him collateral damage in my private catastrophe.

                   He is   not   a martyr.

 I am not inspired by a hatred of B for his opportunism,

   It is not that he doesn't deserve victory, it is that, if he turns on me now, he has proven he has no honor.

  An L without honor is a monster of limitless evil.

  I am recovering my friend's body

   and incidentally sparing you an incomparable tyranny.

  I cannot speculate on how Wammy's has shaped B's psyche, but he has always had a recusant character  ... and he knows I can keep a secret.

⎯  "Why did you do it?..."    He sucks his teeth at the question as though there's room for doubt, as though he could delude me too.   ⎯  "You didn't have a good time at the party, Alt’ ?"  I watched him begin idly digging into his coat, the collar billowing around his face, his complexion is a sickly pale against it’s dark grey tweed   ⎯   "You've gone too far this time. "  He knew it, but I wanted nothing to be ambiguous about where I stood.     ⎯   “You're not taking this seriously. Someone could have been killed. You could have been, I could have been- What is wrong with you? ”   He pulled something from his slacks and only when he struck it against his heel did I recognize it was a match. He shook his head at my indictment but gave no indication of noticing that I had taken a step back.    ⎯   “No, you wouldn’t.”   His face turns, dark lashes casting sleepy shadows over the clinquant daylight caught in his eyes.     I'm struck by how young he looks    For a fleeting instant, I'm acutely aware that the teenager I'm standing next to is the same boy that played hide and seek with me in the meadow, long before we cared where this path was leading us.   And, I am scared that if he turns a meager smile on me, I might forget all the heart ache he's caused. I might remember ... what it felt like to meet my wild-eyed friend at the fenceline and escape what brought us here, immerse ourselves in a world far away from the homesickness and disappointed adults and the fear of what would come apart next. When our hands would meet on the sun-warmed bars, metal and skin becoming homogenized heat that bound rather than separated us in a way that felt timeless to my seven year old senses, when it never crossed my mind that one day our fingers would grow too big to fit between the gaps...     Standing together on the grassy nole, the breeze combs tender fingers through my hair and I sigh quietly as we watched the dining hall being assessed for damages, the smoldering aftermath of what should have been a re-birthday now the scene of a bottle rocket's explosion.     The blossoming, radiant morning rang with shrill alarms and the sharp scent of flash powder like heaven at war.    B lit a cigarette and perched it on his lip,   allowing the silence that fell between us tell me everything I needed to know.   Outrage swelled within me like a rising tide.  He didn't think I deserved an explanation, I'm just another pawn caught up in whatever game he's playing,

     ⎯   "Why are you-?...           Are you trying to tick me off ? !" He inhaled.      soft, unruffled. 

      Uncaring.   Not even meeting my eyes.   ⎯  "You are .... your most endearing when you're angry, you know that?"  His words carried on the smoke exiting his lungs, mirroring that pouring out of our home's windows between crashing booms.        — "Direct and honest. ... For once. The right girl will appreciate that about you, you should stop wasting time and find her."   He smiled around the smoldering stick in that way he does when he knows he's made a clever move and wants to say without saying ‘what now?’   I could viscerally feel my flushed rage. He's the only person I know that can belittle me with such a thorny effect, making me feel petulant and ridiculous for expecting anything from him, like he owes me.  ⎯  "You'll put yourself into an early gave with those, B."   I wanted it to be true.    I want to spite him.

Maybe I want him to die right now.   If one of the agents mistook us for intruders and shot him here in the blood-velvet reeds, then my company would be all he had. Then, maybe, he would appreciate that I’m here and what that really means, in spite of it all.    Instead, B pulls the cigarette from his lips and flicks it against his fingers, letting ash fall like loose petals to the breeze.    Careless.    —  "Ironic you would say that ..."   Cryptic.  It's as though he wants to rile me up. He should know by now where he is provocative, I am unrelenting — because I have to be, because I have to survive him.   In my periphery, I take notice of the unfamiliar security moving in our direction and feel a twinge of fear that I should be more careful of what I wish for.  But I don't move, there's nowhere to go and I admit there is an unexpected ounce of relief in the approaching danger. Though I'm not certain where it's from...  — "There are so many... did they bring them here for us? Do you think it has to do with the bioterror case?"  ⎯  " I considered that."    He said with another flick of his cigarette.  —  " But, there's not enough unrest.         No lock down, no interrogations, no medical testing, no travel bans. We’re going head-long into this, it's inevitable. It's a matter of when, not if, but we aren’t there yet... I warned him— about K, about X, about Y— but he won't listen.      I did it, so when this is all over, he'll know I was right and he was wrong."    "He's unreachable..."

—  "He is. But, he would notice I breached security and slipped into his case files and left him a puzzle to follow. If he pieced it together, he knows someone's predicted who won't make it out of this alive."   More than the fire and the guards, I am astonished by his lack of concern for self-preservation.    "Christ— He might think you're part of it!"  — "Maybe. Maybe that's why they are here, because as far as I can see I've either failed or he was never here to begin with."   Bewilderment is followed by a surge of understanding that spreads over me like ice water,     "You did this to flush L out..."         ⎯ " P r o r s u s. "    Exactly.

This is what it feels like to wait for the end of the world  Only for it not to happen...         —    B said nothing.     Battling a remarkably bloodless gratitude, I stumble to find something to say — anything in my lightheaded shock that's replaced the black-buzzing distress... but nothing comes.    He begins to walk away, just as  thank you  begins to form unsteadily in my throat, but there emerges the smallest prick of dissatisfaction at this outcome that leaves me feeling too ashamed of being ungrateful to speak above a whisper .        ... it's a macabre disappointment.     I realize I have been holding onto a poisonous hope that B would show his true colours, that I would be exempt from our abiding alliance, I would have enough reason to take control, —  that my end would be a turning point, that I could choose to burn it all down and not be fated to disappear quietly...      Now, I've returned to the same indecision that will most likely lead to exactly that.       But...  I cannot ponder further how I may outmeuver fate, why he chose to continue a more difficult path with me as an obstacle, nor confront the calamitous fear lurking within me —   I cannot risk the possibility that this will ever be seen.   I cannot justify condemning us both,       though that was my original intention.    In the end,    I didn't want my last chapter written by speculators.  I didn't want the flaws in their design to go unaddressed, the way they must remain while I'm alive to suffer the consequences of failed propriety.        I wanted them to know why.   Now, no one can know these things ...       I'm afraid that no one ever will,         that by the time the real end arrives,           I will not recognize it's here... 

   Of all the secrets I've kept, I think those that I know will die with me terrify me the most. 

#enteries #death note #wammys house #beyond birthday #death note a #a (death note) #Journal Entry #Entries

[gaycrouton]

could you maybe write something where scully actually believes mulder is dead in gethsemane???? extra points for crying

Hello!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I don’t get sent a ton of angst, but tbh it’s one of my top favorite genres to read and write. I hope I did it justice! Also, I will not lie, I think I subconciously remember an older fic with this type of premise, but I think they end up fucking. It was amazing and great and I tried to find it so I wasn’t subconciously regurgitating it, but alas, I cannot find it.

Also, tw for implied suicide (but he’s fine)

————————————-

“He said that the men behind this hoax, behind these lies, gave me this disease to make you believe.”

It was probably the worst thing she could have said to him. If she’d learned anything in this journey with him, it was that the truth he was always searching for always managed to appear where they least expected. That, and the truth was always far more cruel than anything they could have anticipated.

When he stormed out of the lab, every instinct in her body told her to follow him; the part of her still recovering from this shocking news crudely reminding her that following him was exactly what put a tumor in her head. She’d never known each step she took behind him was just a glorified death march. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped her hand tiredly across her face. She didn’t believe that, not even for one moment. But she knew Mulder did. Scully didn’t have a single doubt that Mulder had always been chastising himself every moment of their partnership. That hurt more than anything the men in power had done to her. If Mulder regretted the work they’d done together, then this all would have been for nothing. 

She sighed and made her way to her own car. Part of her considered trying to follow him, he was probably going down his usual path of self-doubt and angst, but ultimately she decided to take the long way home so she could calm herself down.

An hour and a half later, she arrived to her apartment with a plan to call Mulder in the morning. “Scully,” she sighed tiredly into her phone, using her free hand to fumble for her keys.

“Is this Miss Dana Scully?” an unfamiliar female voice said over the line.

Scully’d had enough of cryptic messages from anonymous sources and, probably a little too curtly, stated, “Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Danielle Morten, I’m the building manager for your friend Fox Mulder,” she wearily replied, sounding stressed.

She had no idea where this was going and she felt her brow furrow as she stopped fiddling with the door after unlocking it. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Um, no, I’m afraid not,” she rushed, setting fear in the pit of Scully’s stomach. “I-I’m so sorry to tell you this, you were just his emergency contact-”

“He said that the men behind this hoax, behind these lies, gave me this disease to make you believe.”

An overwhelming sense of dread filled her entire body. What did he do? “What’s wrong?” Scully demanded.

“His neighbor called and said she heard a gunshot-” Scully felt a ringing sound in her ears as her legs grew weak. “-when I went to check, no one answered the door, so I had to use my key-” I should have fucking followed him. “I’m so sorry.” Scully felt ice creep into her veins and nothing made sense. 

She pushed open the door and all but fell inside. “W-was he there?” she asked not caring that her keys fell out of her shaking hand as she pushed the door shut with her weight. Had the woman already said? Maybe it was an accident and he shot the floor? Why was she saying sorry?

“ I called an ambulance, but it was too late,” the woman choked, clearly distressed.

Scully heard her bag fall to the floor and the door slam shut more than she recognized doing it. “A-are you positive it was him?” she asked, her voice quivering despite her best attempts to reign it in. She didn’t want to seem irrational when everything this woman told her was surely some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe there’d been a fight at his place. Maybe the woman was just confused.

But their lives had been so stressful the past few months. With every new development escalating to him walking out of that warehouse, he’d seemed so defeated and lost.

“I knew something was wrong when I saw him in the hallway, he looked like he’d been crying and I could tell he was off,” she explained.

Mulder’d been crying. Because of what she told him.

Finding her voice, Scully repeated, “Off?”

“I told him he might need to leave next week because of fumigation and he said it didn’t matter. I-I just thought he was tired. I didn’t understand what he meant,” the woman rambled, trying to put it all together in her mind.

It didn’t matter? Why would he say that? Surely he couldn’t have been implying-

“Are you certain it’s Mulder,” she reiterated, hoping for some clue that would lead to this all being a big misunderstanding. She was trying to ignore all the warning signs she’d been blind to. This had been affecting him so much and she’d just blamed it on his obsession.

“The body looked like him,” the woman said, sniffling a little bit. 

Her legs were shaking too badly for her to support herself and she ended up sliding down the frame onto her knees facing the door. “The body?” she breathlessly repeated.

Hanging? Bleeding? In the bathtub? On the floor?

“T-there was no-that’s all there was,” she woman sobbed. 

Scully felt her blood run cold at the implication. Not that, god, please not that. She thought back to that face, the same one she’d spent hours sitting across, the face of the man she admired and trusted.

Trusted to be by her side no matter what.

“Can you call me to tell me where they take him?” Scully whispered, not trusting herself to speak at full volume without breaking.

She thinks she heard the woman say yes, but the phone clattered out of her hands and deafeningly hit the floor at the same time as she gasped for breath.

He killed himself?

She didn’t believe it, but then again, this was a man who’d just learned his most sacred mission was being used against him to make him look like a fool. The one friend he had was dying and he blamed himself.

She knew how he felt.

She should have followed him. She felt hot tears streak down her face as she looked absently at where the door met the floor. She knew how he got about things like this…but she never would have thought…

In a sudden bolt of panic, she went to stand up to go to him, but her legs were shaky and she ended up crashing back onto the hardwood floor with her tailbone, a pain registered in the back of mind but she paid it no attention.

He wouldn’t just leave her like that.

“He said that the men behind this hoax, behind these lies, gave me this disease to make you believe.”

She felt another gasp rip through her lungs like she’d never taken a breath before and a choked sob came out on the exhale. Scully drew her knees to her face and wrapped her arms around her legs in an upright sitting fetal position. Another strangled cry left her mouth as her grief consumed her.

She’d been with him just over an hour ago. He’d been fine, he’d been healthy, and now he was dead. Wetness started to seep into the pant fabric on her knee where her face rested and she simultaneously felt her body start to tremble.

She should have followed him. She should have followed him. She should have followed him. She should havefollowedhim. Sheshouldhavefollowedhim. She-

She felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder and she let out a small scream that came out like a sob as she lurched away, only resulting in falling onto her hands and knees. She turned around so that she was on her butt and was face to face with… Mulder?

“Scully?” he questioned softly, his hands up in peace as he kneeled in front of her, a look of pure concern adorning his face.

She didn’t understand. It was too much information thrown at her at once and she didn’t know how to process any of the last five minutes, hell, any of the last day. “M-Mulder?” she said weakly, her voice trembling on every syllable. She felt like a kid right now. Her knees hurt from falling, her lip was quivering, and she felt tears well hot and mortifying in her eyes before spilling down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he rushed soothingly, moving to sit down in front of her while reaching for her hands just to have some contact. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” he asked, his eyes roaming every inch of her body for some indication of why she was sobbing in her entryway. 

“Y-your landlady called. She t-told me you were d-dead,” Scully explained, her teeth chattering as she shook. Somewhere in her brain she recognized she was experiencing symptoms of shock, but all she could focus on was the fact he was here with her.

“It’s a misunderstanding, and that’s actually why I’m here. There’s a dead man in my apartment right now,” he explained, rubbing his thumb over the backs of her hands in an attempt to help calm her down. “Scully, I’m fine.” 

She hadn’t even thought about why he was here, only relieved that he was. He must’ve been hiding somewhere in the apartment and came out when he heard her sobs.

“She told me you were dead,” she repeated in a sob, clutching his hand like he’d disappear again if she let him go.

In a sudden impulse to comfort herself, she launched herself forward onto her knees. It wasn’t a graceful move, so she ended up tipping forward, but Mulder caught her with one hand on a bicep and the other on her opposite forearm. “Woah, Scully-” he started, only to be interrupted by her grabbing his arms with a vice grip.

She felt the warmth from under the cotton of his shirt as she touched him and her eyes focused on the spots her hands roamed. She went from his arms to his chest to his neck to his face, committing the feel of him to memory. She saw he was staring at her with a look of curiosity and she lowered her hands to his shoulders. “I thought you killed yourself,” she rushed on an exhale before choking out a sob and bowing her head in front of him.

Scully thinks he might have said something but she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck as she sobbed against him. “I’m sorry.”

She felt his arms wrap around her back, underneath her coat, pulling her closer to him as he rubbed soothing circles onto her shirt. “Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

She pulled back slightly, so that they were still in each other’s arms, but face to face. “Yes, I do. I-I shouldn’t have been so hard on you today. I don’t blame you for any-thing, I hope you know that. I don’t regret my ti-me with you even for a moment, and I don’t want yo-u to think I do,” she rushed, choking on her words from her speed.

Mulder brought up a hand to the side of her head, brushing her hair back as he stroked her scalp. “Breath, Scully. You’re working yourself up,” he said, not commenting on her confession.

She sniffled and breathed for a moment before whispering in a quivering voice, “I thought you killed yourself because you blamed yourself for what happened to me.”

There was a guilt in his eye that let her know that, despite him being in front of her right now, her thinking wasn’t wrong. “It’s not your fault, Mulder. They do what they do because they are evil. You’ve been fighting them since the beginning, it’s not your fault,” she repeated, moving her hands to cup his face, idly feeling his five o’clock shadow. 

Mulder raised himself up to his full height, while still being on his knees, and placed a kiss to her forehead, then to one cheek, and then the other, before leaning back to look her in the eye. She felt that her face was still red from crying, but she was finally calming down. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, easing away and standing up, wiping the tear tracks from her face and trying to fix her makeup with the pads of her fingers.

“Don’t be, I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mulder replied with a slight tone of disbelief in his voice, like he didn’t expect she’d have this reaction to that news.

She let out a humorless chuckle and sniffled again, taking off her coat and hanging it up to give herself something to do. “Well, think about me next time you think of doing something reckless or insane.”

She turned and caught him standing in front of her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. A favorite nervous tendency of his. “Well I have a feeling you’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you then.”

She invited him to her dining room as he explained what he’d gone through since they parted ways and what he thought they needed to do. It was reckless. It was insane. But she’d do anything she could if it meant keeping him safe.

#x files #fanfiction #x files fanfiction #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #mulder #scully #msr #gesthamene #angst