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typically-untypical · 5 months

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Second In Command

AU: Mob AU

CW: Guns, Blood, Injury, non main character death

WC: 2,735

Date: 12/5/2023

"Chill out Logan," Roman laughed. "You're always so serious, it wouldn't hurt you to rest for a bit."

Logan could feel his blood pressure raising, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Are you aware of what happens when I chill out? If I am not constantly on alert who will clean up after the rest of you. It's not as if I'm the only one who seems concerned by the evidence the three of you leave behind or the people who are out to get the three of you." This is how it had been for the past hour, Roman, Virgil, and Patton were celebrating a recent victory and they had been teasing him about loosening up and partying with them, but that wasn't his job. His job was to protect them. His job was to make sure no one came near them. Sure they were in a safe house and there shouldn't be anything happening, but there was a deep seated need in Logan's heart to watch out for the three of them.

At least there had been, but he had been pushed to his limit tonight. "I'm going for a walk." Logan walked over to the coat rack, pulling his off and looking at the other three that were piled on the floor. He didn't need to be reminded that he was the only one who cleaned up in both a literal and figurative sense.

He tapped his hip, making sure his gun was still there and was easily hidden under his long peacoat before walking out of the door and slamming it. How many times had Roman told him to chill out just tonight? How many times had Patton told him to relax? Or Virgil told him he was being a bit up tight and needed to loosen up. Didn't they understand? He couldn't, not if he was going to continue to protect them.

Logan needed to breathe; he needed to let go of the anger that was pulling at his strings. He stood in the crisp air, taking slow deep breaths in hopes to calm himself down. He just needed time. He just needed to sort himself out. Why had it affected him tonight more than other nights? Was it because he had spent the whole night watching the three of them cuddle and tease each other?

Something snapped and Logan felt the weight shift in his body. No longer did he feel the tenseness in his shoulders and hands, but instead his throat and eyes.

He was hurt.

It seemed like none of them understood the extent of what he did. They didn't realize why he was always so serious. They didn't know he would sacrifice everything for them, even his sanity. Rubbing his face, Logan let his feet lead him. Their organization wasn't a completely legitimate, but Logan did everything he could to keep the four of them off of the feds radar. He balanced books, he forged paperwork, he did what needed to be done to keep all of them safe. He didn't want Roman, Virgil, and Patton to get hurt. He didn't want to lose them, but sometimes Logan was reminded, in the most painful of ways, that they didn't care for him as deeply as he cared for them. How strange it was to be so close to the people he loved and yet just far enough that he would never be able to reach them; to be in their shadow, always just a fraction behind. Logan's hand itched to reach out for something, anything that would help him blow off steam, anything to ebb the echoing anger, frustration and pain. Eventually, he pulled out a pack of gum and threw a stick in his mouth.

He had been a smoker at one time, easing the pain in his mind with smoke in his lungs, but Patton had looked so distraught the first time he caught Logan smoking, as if it hadn't been obvious by the smell of his clothes. His big eyes welled up with tears and he had asked... nay, demanded, Logan stop smoking immediately. Logan had picked up chewing gum instead. Going cold turkey had sucked, but the praise had been worth every second.

How disappointed would Patton look now if he went back on his promise? Especially since it would only been a temporary relief. He shoved his hands in his pocket, looking up to the starless sky, the lights hidden by the city's pollution. Logan was going to have to go back and apologize soon. It wasn't their fault he snapped. They were under no obligation to love him back, and one of these days they were going to get fed up with his temper. He was their second, he was their shadow and it was his job to follow and obey. He was their puppet, and they could pull his strings however they wanted. He could shove his feelings down in his chest. He'd return. Everything would go back to normal. He knew this. They knew this. It was only a momentary blip, a bubbling anger they had most likely expected from him. They were far too understanding with him sometimes.

Logan flopped onto a park bench, spreading his legs so he could rest his elbows on his knees. He hid his face in his hands, long fingers spread along his cheeks. They weren't required to love him or even to treat him well. It wasn't their job to love nor his to be loved. He wouldn't want fake platitudes anyway. He had fallen in love with their hearts and souls. He had fallen in love with the monsters underneath. He had fallen in love with their cruelty. They hadn't seen the same spark in him. They saw a friend, and that was fine.

He was going to forgive them, he was going to go back to them, it was inevitable. Logan just needed to rearrange his brain. He needed to remind himself where he belonged.

"Oh look who it is, the dog."

Logan looked up, face falling into a grimace as he immediately set his shoulders back and sat up tall. He should have been more careful. He should have been listening to his surroundings, fuck. He shouldn't have sat out in the open, not where he was so indefensible. This is what the three of them did to him. This is what happened when he let go.

"Wonder what the heads will pay to get you back." There were five of them total but only one was talking. The others leered at Logan like he was prey. He could probably shoot the man in front of him, but not before he was shot in return. A fire fight in the middle of the park wasn't ideal and he was drastically outnumbered.

"You're gonna ditch your gun and come with us." Logan didn't let his face change as he tried to figure out his options. The other times he had stormed away, he had always come back by morning and the three had never gone looking for him. He didn't want to be a burden to them financially or otherwise but he also knew he was more valuable to them alive. He stood up, slowly reaching for his gun and setting it on the bench.

"You realize they won't come," He bluffed, knowing very well they would. They might not love him in the way he loved them, but they needed him. They would come, and they would come with guns blazing. That was going to be so much for Logan to clean up.

"Yeah right," The other man snorted. "The three of them love you, they rely on you, rumor is your next to be entered into their hoard."

Logan responded with a snort of his own that bubbled into a full roaring laughter. "Me? Love me?" He asked, eyes suddenly wild, because something truly had broken in him. This man didn't know what the fuck he was talking about and who was he to give Logan false hope? "Your ability to gather intel is inept and the fact that you were only able to sneak up on me because I was at a low point makes you a sad excuse of a man. How long were you planning this? Did you see me alone in this park and throw together a squad." He stepped forward, looking deep into the other man's eyes. He brought his gun up toward Logan, finger tight on the trigger but the flood gates had opened. Logan was pissed that people were spreading rumors about his bosses. How dare they think Logan was worthy of their love. He wasn't even on their level. "What you don't understand is they might rely on me, but I am replicable. I am but a bishop on their chessboard, not even worthy of being turned into a queen." Logan reached out to take the man's gun. He heard the shot, felt the piercing in his arm but the pain didn't come. He must have been angrier than he thought.

"You, on the other hand, don't even belong on the board."

"Boss, what do we do?!" One of the other men called. This must have really been a slapped together excursion. Normally, a properly thought out plan, would include an escape, and also some basic instructions for unpredictable situations. Logan didn't want to give the other man time to respond though and, with his uninjured arm, he struck the man in the nose. His swear in response wasn't loud enough to cover the sound of bodies hitting the ground, and both he and Logan looked back at the other men. All four had crumpled to the ground in pools of their own blood, clean shots through their foreheads. Logan knew that style and his head immediately shot back toward the direction he had come from. There were two figures walking slowly toward them, illuminated by the street lamps.

Patton and Roman, which meant the sniper was definitely Virgil. Why were they here? They never came looking for him when he was throwing one of his tantrums. It was an unspoken rule that he would come back as soon as he had gotten himself back in order and they would continue as if nothing had happened. Why were they here now?

Logan looked back at the other bodies, made easier by the man with the gun spinning him toward the approaching figures and pressing cold steal to his temple. The anger was fading into surprise and with it his adrenaline began to dump, making the pain in Logan's arm suddenly come alive. He took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Controlling his breathing was the best option until he could treat his wound.

"Logie, you weren't smoking again, were you?" Patton asked, as if Logan didn't currently have a gun pressed to his head.

Spitting out his gum as proof, Logan shook his head before being grabbed tighter. The man behind him was saying something but literally none of it registered in Logan's brain. "No, of course not."

The smile on Patton's face was blinding, his hands clasped behind his back as he tilted his head. "I'm so proud of you." It almost made it all worth it, even the pain in his arm. was it obvious he was hurt? He did have a dark suit on, could they see the bullet wound through the dark fabric in this light? Logan was also certain he had a burn from the gun, he had been in such close proximity.

Roman cleared his throat. "As commendable as it is that Logan didn't fall back on bad habits, I believe we might have more important matters to attend to. Logan, darling, are you alright?" Roman asked, taking a step forward and for the first time in a bit, Logan registered what the man behind him was saying.

"Take another step and I'll shoot."

Logan was being held too close, Virgil wouldn't be able to get a clean shot, and with his arm injured he probably shouldn't try to escape. Either he was going to get hurt further, something Roman and Patton would never let him live down, or he'd get killed. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the teasing in that scenario.

"Do you really think that's a wise idea, kiddo? You aren't surviving this either way, but if you let him go, we'll make sure your death is quick. However, if you hurt even a hair on his head-" Patton's face shifted and Logan felt his knees going weak. He was like sunshine incarnate, but much like the sun, he could burn when he wanted to and Logan was happy to melt under that heat.

"You'll let me walk away. You won't risk him getting hurt further."

"Further?" Roman growled and something flashed across Patton's eyes. Roman put his finger to his ear. "No kill shots. He's already hurt L."

They had it handled. This was what they did best. Logan just needed to give them room to work. HE was going to have to risk the humiliation.

Despite the pain in his arm from where he had been shot, Logan spread his legs out in a quick motion, tossing the other man over his shoulder. The pain was blinding and at some point he also hit the ground. It must have been enough though, Patton was by his side when his vision cleared and he was tending to Logan's wound.

"Oh honey. He got you good didn't you, and with that move I'm sure you made it worse." The adrenaline was wearing off, the pain was shouting louder but he just nodded at Patton, closing his eyes. There was a tightness in his throat from not screaming and he was a feeling a bit woozy. Logan didn't want to show it. He wasn't meant to have weakness in front of them.

"I apologize for creating an inconvenience." Roman was on the phone calling in a clean up crew, good. He normally forgot that part. Virgil had to be running to meet them already. They needed to get out, but Patton was running a hand through his hair.

"Now hush," he whispered. "We all have a lot of things to apologize for but needing our help isn't one of them." As soon as Logan seemed to be relaxing, Patton's hand left his hair and the bandages were pulled tighter on Logan's arm. He took in a sharp breath as spots filled his vision.

"I'm sorry for yelling as well."

"Didn't I tell you to hush?" Patton asked quietly, leaning forward and giving Logan a light peck on the lips. "We have a lot to discuss. We obviously haven't been showing you how much you mean to us. We'll discuss that later. For now, just know, we would do anything for you."

Logan was overwhelmed, it sounded like a love confession. He knew it wasn't there was no way this was a love confession. The pain was just making him delusional.

"Pat! Is he alright?" Virgil was here. They were together. Maybe Logan could let go, just a little bit.

"He'll be fine but he's lost a lot of blood. We should get him home to rest."

"Alright, Ro's hands are full with the other guy. Let me carry him back."

"You didn't need-" Logan tried to push himself and immediately fell. Shit, he had lost more blood than he thought, and nothing was keeping him awake anymore. He was fading so fast. "You didn't need to-"

"Shut up, specs." Virgil's voice was a gentle whisper and Logan felt himself being pulled closer, scooped up into a bridal carry. "We will always come after you if you're in trouble. We need you after all. Everything you said was true. You keep us together. So don't leave, okay?" He asked quietly and all Logan could do was weakly nod.

This all felt like a dream. Maybe he had actually died with the shoulder roll. He was too tired to worry about it. Instead, Logan closed his eyes and let himself be whisked away. When he woke up, things would be back to normal. He would do his job like he always did. He would protect them.

Just for tonight. Only for tonight.

He would let them protect him.

@tsspromptmonth

#TSS Rare Gifts Event 2023 #Untypical Creations #Sanders Sides #Sanders Side fic #Fanfic #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #LAMP #mob au #cw blood #cw weapon #cw violence

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blackjackkent · 6 months

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Another visit from the dream guardian.

In the past, when she has called him into the Astral Plane in his dreams, it has felt like a peaceful interlude, a moment of respite from the chaos of the waking world.

Something has changed, though. The pocket dimension is no longer placid. There is an impressive, almost inaudible thumping hum at the bottom of his hearing range. His skin tingles. There is an uncomfortable feeling of anticipation, like a nail waiting for the hammer-blow.

The guardian is standing nearby, watching as he wakes. She is not in her usual armor, but instead a short, pale lavender dress. She looks inexpressibly tired; her eyes sunken into her head, jutting jaw twisting her lips into a harsh frown.

"The voice of the Absolute is stronger here," she says quietly without preamble. "I don't know how much longer I can resist it."

A pause; then she lifts her head and musters a weary smile. "But it's good to see you're making progress."

With visible effort, she takes a few steps to turn and sit beside him on the ground, looking out at the endless sea of stars surrounding them.

"You took an unexpected route here," she goes on, a bit more conversationally. "You did a brave thing, saving those people in the grove."

Hector lifts one shoulder and lowers it again. "It wasn't even a choice," he mutters. "They needed my help."

Again she smiles slightly. "Not everyone would have helped."

She flinches, inhales sharply with sudden pain, then hisses the breath out like an unspoken curse.

"It just doesn't stop," she groans. "We are being bombarded by waves of telepathic energy. Wave after wave with hardly a breath between them. I almost dare not rest..." The pain seems to ease slightly, and she goes on with less effort, "Each wave...a new set of orders to the infected." A pause, and then she adds grimly, "The order for *your* transformation has been given many times already."

Hector feels a chill shiver down his spine. So it is not only a threat, but a certainty, held only at bay by this woman, whoever she truly is. "My transformation?" he asks hollowly.

She nods. "Yes. But the orders are oddly...erratic, as if the Absolute cannot make up its mind. I don't fully understand."

Well, if you don't, I certainly don't, Hector thinks sardonically.

"In any case," she goes on. "the Absolute knows you carry me with you now. It wants to retrieve me."

"Why does the Absolute want you?" Hector asks. At this point, he doesn't expect a clear answer - but he still hopes against hope that she will give him something concrete to explain the field of safety she is still able to weave around him and his companions.

She hesitates, then shakes her head and pushes herself to her feet with a grunt of effort.

"I am the only one who can resist the Absolute's influence. Hence its fear of me, its desperation. Unfortunately, that also means it is dedicating more and more resources to my retrieval."

She looks down at him with sudden intensity. "The task ahead is monumental. But we're all that stands between victory for the Absolute and freedom for all. This is not just about you and I anymore. It has become far bigger than us."

Hector swallows. It is difficult enough to think about his own little problems, the threat of abduction, transformation, death...but to know that their actions affect the safety of so many others as well...

Selune help me...what if I can't do it? What if I fail?

"You must infiltrate Moonrise Towers," the guardian says. She recites it like a litany, their only creed, as if either of them could have forgotten the destination that lies ahead. "Discover the secrets of the Absolute and put an end to it, so we can finally be free."

Her shoulders sag, and her eyes drift half-shut. Hector feels reality going grey at the edges as the dream begins to fade back into the emptiness of sleep. "Now I must rest," she says, her voice following him back into the dark. "And you must carry on. Do not let my efforts be in vain."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #i gotta say #i was not expecting that dress #like it looks fine on her but it's a bit of a shift from the heavy armor

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queen-haq · 2 years

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Excerpt from AWR - Part 23

As promised, dear anon, here's an excerpt from the next chapter:

The horror movie on Netflix wasn’t half-bad but your attention was fixated on Billy. He was on the ground, doing push-ups, back muscles flexing with every contraction, skin glistening with sweat. While you watched him, he watched the screen, and it was starting to piss you off.

Four days the two of you had been stuck in the cabin, trapped in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do. While you and Billy had done the rustic cabin thing before, it had always been on weekends – and the two of you spent most of it having sex. But this wasn’t a vacation, and there was no sex. Billy kept his distance, you were still physically recovering, and the only physical contact that happened was when the two of you inadvertently clung to each other in your sleep.

If ever you harbored any illusions about living a simple life in the middle of nowhere, the last few days had broken it. You were a city girl through and through. You liked the fast pace, the chaos of the crowds, living in a city filled with people from all parts of the world. You liked the rush of a demanding career and living the life you struggled so hard to build. And you knew without a doubt Billy felt the same way. He thrived in the hustle, making money, living in the fast lane.

When the two of you first started living together, you wondered if your ambitious natures would create a rift. Instead, it brought you even closer. Carving out time together amidst your busy schedules didn’t happen by accident - it was through deliberate design and it wasn't easy. At times that meant turning down lucrative contracts and opportunities for the both of you, but that’s what was required to make the relationship work. Business trips were difficult, but you guys worked it out so that you weren’t apart for more than a week at a time. The sex was great afterwards, that wasn’t a surprise, but it was each other’s company you craved more than anything else.

Once the two of you used to be able to talk about anything, and now here you were, secluded together, and you barely exchanged any words. It reaffirmed all your doubts and fears. Too much had changed. All that love and intensity that once existed was gone. The realisation hurt your heart, made your insides twist with so much agony that it almost rivalled the physical pain you experienced from being tortured.

Billy stood up, bringing you out of your reverie. You noted the way his jaw clenched, how tense he was around you. Tears stung the back of your eyes but you didn’t want to cry in front of him. You got up, strolled over to the door, and slid into your boots before trying to wear your jacket. Not exactly easy to do with your hands wrapped up.

“Where you going?”

“For a walk.”

“I’ll come with.”

You turned to face him. “You don’t look like you want to be around me.”

An irritated expression masked his face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You exhaled a resigned sigh. “Can we not? I just want some fresh air.”

“I’m not letting you wander around by yourself. So either I go with or you don’t go at all.”

“Really getting off on controlling me, aren’t you?” you bit out through clenched teeth.

He sneered at you, dark eyes flashing anger. “Oh yeah, worrying about keeping you safe 24/7 is getting me all hard.”

“Fuck off!”

You stormed out, muttering to yourself, getting more irritated when you realized he was right behind you. It was cold outside but not the kind of chill that cut through to your bones. It felt good to breathe it in, to walk through the beautiful grounds with trees covered in snow and appreciate nature. Maybe you weren’t an outdoorsy person but there was something calming about the whole experience. Hearing the snow crunch behind you, you looked over at your shoulder to see Billy following behind you. He had on a dark beanie that covered his hair, nose red with cold, hands tucked into his pocket. Far cry from the man who shot up a warehouse to save you. You continued on your trail.

After several minutes, you stopped in your tracks and turned back to face him. “You can walk beside me if you want.”

He swaggered closer, a smirk playing across his lips. “Not gonna bite my head off?”

“Not yet.”

Next to you now, you both continued to follow the trail into the woods. Neither of you spoke, but unlike in the cabin there wasn’t awkwardness this time. “We used to be able to talk about everything,” you said softly.

He cast you a sidelong glance. “And we can’t now?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “You’ve barely spoken to me in the past few days. That never happened when we used to go away.”

“We spent most of our vacations fucking not talking.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Maybe I’m not in a mood to talk,” he said quietly, staring straight ahead. “Maybe I’m so fucking worried about something happening to you that I'm barely hanging on.”

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #a woman reborn #ben barnes

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m-myrddin · 11 months

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Laurence “The Hound” Everick

Roles: Member of The Council - Head of Investigation

(He/Him)

Patron Deities: Earth

When Laurence was first appointed to The Council, his title was very nearly “The Banshee.” This idea was scrapped in favour of the much more fitting title of “The Gods Bloodhound” or simply “The Hound.” A title that derives not only from the shape of his soul, but also from his strong sense of smell and tracking capabilities. Before joining The Council, Laurence was known within the Clan for being able to quickly find monsters while on The Hunt. When groups would head out to clear the area near the Clans home, they would often ask Laurence if he was available to come with them to make it easier, assuming that he himself was not already out on The Hunt.

Because of his simple title, Laurence has garnered the reputation for being the weakest and least intimidating member of the Alzanar Clans Council. A reputation that does not at all reflect the true nature of things. However, it works in his favour. People do not expect for him to have the skill he has in a fight, nor do they expect to feel the chill of fear that runs down their spine during his pursuit of them. Laurence, like many of the rest of The Council, is relentless. It is a trait favoured by their Disciple, and reflected in her (and the Gods) selection.

Likes:

His own cooking (no one else agrees)

Keeping strange things in his pockets (once pulled out a live rat and handed it to the person he was talking to because he “didn’t want it there anymore.”)

Fashion

Swords

Dislikes:

Sparrow meat

Rats

Being alone

Physical Description:

6′1

Out of all of the members of The Council, Laurence is the most well groomed. He loves to dress nice, and can often be found in clothing that is as close to modern day High Fashion as it gets. It’s not uncommon to see Laurence utilizing things that would often be seen on field or herding dogs. One of his most beloved accessories is a necklace designed after the anti-wolf collar.

Laurence himself is incredibly sharp looking. There is not an inch of him that is round or soft. Many people are a bit intimidated by the intense look in his eye that he carries around with him on the day to day. He keeps the stubble on his face just as well groomed as the rest of him, though his boyfriend, Damien, often complains about the scratch of it.

Despite his strength and powerful build, Laurence has the appearance of a lanky man with little meat on his bones, a fact not helped by his habit of wearing clothes slightly too big for him that accentuates his height and the unusual length of his limbs.

Laurence is one of the lower ranking members of The Council and doesn’t have as many piercings to boast as others.

Right eyebrow piercing

Vertical labret

Septum

Lobe

Helix and mid helix

Industrial

Because of his lower ranking, Laurence may not wear large jewelry during traditional or formal occasions, despite his preference to do so. Instead, he wears smaller spikes, studs, and hoops in his piercings and makes up for their lack of flamboyancy by shining them until they are perfect and commissioning them to be made in bright colours.

Laurence has a surprising lack of scars compared to many other Hunters. Many people wonder just how he managed to avoid the beatings that everyone else takes, which he attributes to dumb luck. The fact of the matter is, nearly every single one of his scars are located somewhere that makes it very easy for him to cover them up.

Large claw marks in the center of his back

Precisely four stab wounds in a near perfect circle on his left shoulder

Another stab wound on his stomach

A large skin graft on his right thigh, slightly paler than the rest of him

A burn mark in the perfect shape of a hand on his right side

A slash starting from his left hip bone approximately 7 inches long

Fun fact: Despite the fact that Hunters spend a lot of time out on the road and cooking for themselves, Laurence is horrendous at it. Most people outright refuse to eat anything that he cooks for them out of fear of falling ill. However, Laurence believes himself to be a fantastic cook, and often prefers his own cooking over anything else. Those around him believe that he has simply eaten so much of his own cooking that his tastebuds have shriveled up and died. Some even joke that his cooking was so horrendous it gave him enough brain damage that it tricked itself into thinking it was good. Whatever the cause, Laurence eats every meal he cooks for himself like its the best thing he has ever tasted.

Want to get a general feel of his vibe? Here are a couple songs from his playlist to get started:

Shut Eye - Stealing Sheep

Way of the Triune God - Tyler Childers

My Name is Bocephus - Hank William Jr.

See the Light - Ghost

#original character #original writing #original work #original fiction #original story #character intro #character profile #queer characters #queer writers #queer fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #absolute madman #he's off the shits #eats burnt food like its the tastiest thing he's ever been gifted #he's got major problems

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felix-the-creature · 2 years

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Diner California, a killjoy AU

Chapter 9

The Killjoys pull up to the heavily graffiti-ed building belonging to Show pony and Doctor Death defying around 9 pm. Show pony swings out of the doorway on their roller skates, hands in the air welcoming the four.

"Heeyyyy tumbleweeds!" Pony whoops, spinning in slow circles around them. They skate close to Party to reach down and boop the nose of Mousekat, who he has under his arm.

They're ushered inside, to be met with chaos and color.

"Have fun guys! Try not to kill anybody, get drunk as hell, you know the drill" and off Pony dissappears into the crowd.

The little home has been simultaneously turned into heaven and hell, depending on wether you like people or not.

There are so many people. It resembles a cage full of parrots, every neon color arranged uniquely around every pretty face. Music is blasting from Pony's boombox loud enough to shake the tables.

Ghoul waves when he spots his punk friend, who was chilling in a corner while sipping from some sort of R rated concoction in a ceramic mug. Jet wanders over to where said concoction is being served and promptly wastes himself, to the cheering of the others around the drink stand.

Party feels a little overwhelmed at first, and fiddles with the stones still in his pocket while looking around the place. He hitches Mousekat up on his hip, then looks down and notices Kobra beside him, sticking close amid all the noise and rambunctious strangers. He puts his free hand on his shoulder, unbearably happy to see his brother no longer skittish around him and instead going to him for comfort.

Someone taps him on the shoulder, turning out to be Rock candy. She flashes him a grin along with an equally friendly punch to the chest. He fends her off and grins back. "Hey peepee" she teases.

Party scowls but can't keep the laughter back. "Hey I told you to not call me that"

"Tough kibble peepee. Should'a chosen initials more carefully if you got a problem with it"

Party shakes their head. "Nah it's fine" a thought occurs to them. "Hey, I'm sorry for getting angry at you the other day, totally overreacted. There wasn't ever any danger"

"Oh I know, it's fine. You're allowed to get mad sometimes, good for the spirit" Candy shakes out her hair and snaps her fingers to the song on the radio. "Come on, let's just dance and forget all that stuff. Forget about dracs, forget about the goverment, all of it. Let's be free"

Party flips his hair back to plop Mousekat over his head, immediately feeling more confident with the alter ego over his face. "Let's go buck wild, honey"

So they do. They stomp their feet and shout along to the music and wreak havoc along with everyone else in the house, some dancing to remember and some dancing to forget. It's a perfect night. The milky way shines through the holes in the roof, illuminating the partiers. A mini mosh pit starts up in the living room, Ghoul being the one responsible of course.

At some point the music on the boom box gets turned off, and someone starts clinking their cup against the counter. They only get the first line out...

"They're gonna clean up your looks-" ...and up goes a deafening cheer that can undoubtedly be heard for miles and miles.

This is the most raw killjoy anthem you can get. Sure, mad gear and the missile kid may write bangers to go around, but this chant is special, passed down through partying and various get togethers with nobody knowing exactly who started it.

At some point in killjoy history, the word "teenager" changed it's meaning. To one of them, to be a teenager means to defy, to unapologetically be and be as hard as possible.

Tonight, there's a crap ton of teenagers being with all of their color and glory beneath the stars.

Party had gotten tired a little while ago, and is now hanging out next to the drinks and coincidentally Cherri cola, not being able to chat with him due to the full volume sing along. He makes a mental note to talk to Cherri after the party, as they haven't gotten the chance to see each other in some time. The final chorus of the song is coming up, so Party sighs and obligatedly raises his voice to join in, slightly muffled through Mousekat.

Suddenly Show pony makes a leap onto the table, still in roller skates. They spin for a second and then put a hand against the wall to steady themselves, belting out the final repeats of the chorus louder than anyone else with a huge grin on their face.

"TEENAGERS SCARE, THE LIVING SHIT OUTTA ME

THEY COULD CARE LESS, AS LONG AS SOMEONE WILL BLEED

SO DARKEN YOUR CLOTHES, AND STRIKE A VIOLENT POSE

THEY MIGHT LEAVE YOU ALONE, BUT NOT-"

Pony hears a sharp noise and looks down, confused to see the red suddenly staining their white shirt. They open their mouth, cough, and finish the line "-me" before topping face first off the counter and onto the floor, motionless. more shots fire and real chaos breaks out, scream-singing turning to plain screaming as everyone panics. Party whips off Mousekat in horror and tries to find his family among the mob and bullets. There's Jet, shouldering his way through the crowd. He almost reaches him when a second volley of gunfire spatters around and everyone tries to shelter themselves. Ghoul jumps up, shouting "THERE!" and shooting back with his own gun at a hole in the roof. Everyone sees the draculoids on the roof now, trapping them all like chickens. Shots are fired at Ghoul, and Jet runs over and tackles him to the ground to stop him from being a target. Ghoul yelps in suprise and pulls the trigger, and Jet screams.

There's a frantic wave of people trying to make it to the door only to find it blocked by another drac, this one backed up by a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.

Everyone's screaming. Rock candy runs over to Party and grabs his hand, trying to pull him below the countertop and out of the line of fire. Once down he tries to thank her but turns to see her sitting sightless beside him, a bullet of her own in her forehead. Not out of the line of fire then. He chokes back a silent sob for his friend and runs back into the crowd to be instantly tackled by Ghoul, Jet stumbling behind him with one hand held to his face.

"WE HAVE TO BREAK THE WALL" Ghoul shouts above the chaos. He and Party unanimously look over at a part of the wall that they'd helped Show pony patch last year. It should still be a weak point.

"ONE" Ghoul yells.

"TWO"

"THREE" and the three of them body slam the wall. It breaks, landing them on the earth outside. They scramble to their feet, the mob pouring out behind them. Ghoul raises his gun and shoots the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W at the door. it falls to the ground, instantly trampled along with it's poor drac by the mass of killjoys frantic to escape the death trap.

"WHERE'S KOBRA??" Party yells at the other two, who give him jittery head shakes. Party spins around trying to find his brother, growing more panicky every second. "THERE!" he spots him at the edge of the crowd, and tries to call him over. Kobra doesn't hear him over the chaos. He seems to be trying to sink into the shadows, unseen.

Somebody saw him though. A figure clothed in all white appears behind him and grabs him, pulling him into the dark. Party screams.

"KOBRA! SOMEONE GOT KOBRA WE HAVE TO GO AFTER THEM" but to his dismay Ghoul shakes his head with tears in his eyes and pulls him towards their car.

"we gotta get out of here"

"NO, KOBRA-"

"Party, we have to get out of here NOW"

They pull Party, kicking and screaming, into the trans am. Jet automatically falls into the driver's seat, but then stops with one hand pressed to his face and one on the steering wheel.

"I can't drive. Someone else needs to drive" he says, strangely calm. Ghoul nods and jumps into the driver's side. He starts the car and hits the gas, one car among many in the desperate race to get away. Party's sobbing in the back, punching the windows and eyes roving around madly in search of any sign of his brother.

"no, no no no no we have to go back for Kobra, please we have to go get him please Ghoul oh no no no no no" his words turn to sobbing as the car speeds off, the wreck that is Show pony's house disappearing into the night.

#mcr #my chemical romance #danger days #party poison #fun ghoul #jet star #kobra kid #killjoys #mcrmy #gerard way

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms.

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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quirkless-accident · 2 years

Note

"Did you really never see it coming?" Ultimate betrayal Scenario Shinso (or a character that's close to him of your choice) rats out phantom's location to the GiW or it seems that way anyways or it may just be a cruel trick from the LoV

Out of all of his new classmates at U.A. Danny can safely, confidently say that his best friend in the class is Hitoshi. And no, it's not because of the small crush he may or may not have on their resident insomniac. It's because he's chill, and quiet, and the silences with him aren't tense. There isn't a need to fill them. They can just exist in each other's presence and do absolutely nothing. Say absolutely nothing.

Which is why Danny finds it a little strange that Hitoshi seems especially chatty today.

It had been fine. Normal, even, as they walked to the mall. Quiet and serene. But Danny had ducked inside of the bathroom, and when he came back, Hitoshi beamed at him, and he's been talking his fucking ear off since.

Hitoshi rarely lets his guard down, but when he does it is something similar to this. Carefree in a way he normally doesn't allow himself to be. Too beaten down by society for having a "villainous" quirk to really be able to show his true self, and that's something he and Danny have always been able to bond over.

But this is...Different.

Danny listens with half an ear as they walk back to school. Hitoshi takes them through a short cut as he talks and texts while Danny looks around his new surroundings. It's a quiet neighborhood with barely any traffic, vehicular or otherwise.

"Hey, Hitoshi?" Danny asks as he looks around. He stops in his place, and waits for Hitoshi to do the same just a step in front of Danny. He turns, pocketing his phone. He's got a dreamy sort of smile on his face, and Danny knows he's seen it before, but he can't quite place where. His cheeks are red and his eyes are half-closed as he gazes at Danny with nothing but adoration. "Not that I don't trust your navigation skills, but are you sure this is the right way?"

Danny is more directionally challenged than most but even he can tell that they're a little bit lost. Hitoshi just nods, and closes the gap between him and Danny. They're about the same height, but it doesn't stop Hitoshi from throwing his arms around Danny's shoulders and getting really close. Danny can feel his cheeks heat up, and his heart starts trying to break out of his ribs.

"You trust me, right, Danny?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. It's a motion that's totally wrong for Hitoshi, so unlike him in every way, but Danny is looking through Useless Gay Colored Glasses that he doesn't see it.

"O-of course I do," Danny stutters. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, but Hitoshi is draping himself over him. Placing them on his hips respectfully is okay, right? That's not weird? "I just-I think we're lost."

"No, Danny," Hitoshi says, leaning in. His breath is hot on Danny's ear as he speaks. "We're exactly where we need to be."

Faster than lightning, Danny feels something heavy and cold clamp down around his neck. In the blink of an eye, he's being pinned face first into the sidewalk. He struggles against Hitoshi's weight, but with the way he's got him pinned it's nearly impossible to get out of. He pulls at his core and tries to summon his intangibility, but instead, he's met with a harsh, familiar pain.

The thing around his neck. A collar. One that can cancel out his powers.

"Hi-Hitoshi! What's going on?" Danny demands as he struggles. Hitoshi just hums thoughtfully and presses Danny's face further into the ground. It's painful, and it almost distracts Danny from the screeching tires that suddenly stop next to them. Several people get out, and Danny hears the familiar whining of ectoweapons as they power up, no doubt trained on him.

There are weird cuffs clasped around his hands and forearms before he's hauled up by several pairs of hands. Hitoshi stands there, flanked by the Ghost Investigation Ward, looking as smug as he possibly can.

It's not a good look for him.

"Why are you donig this?" He asks, desperately tryingt o understand. Hitoshi was his friend. He was kind and smart and funny and Danny had been so stupidly in love that he ignored the signs.

"Did you really never see it coming?" Hitoshi asks, mockingly. "We need you out of the way, Spooky. What better way than the professionals?"

"Who? Are you working with the Le-"

Before he can finish, a muzzle is wrestled over his face. It's about two sizes to small, and digs into his skin unfomrotably. His jaw is already aching from being so forcefully clamped.

He struggles as much as he can, but without his super strength, and the fact that he's severely outnumbered, it's a losing battle.

Something sharp is jabbed in his neck, and the last thing he sees is Hitoshi giving him a small wave, smiling so bright that Danny doesn't see the fangs.

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

Aizawa is supposed to be having a good day. And so far, it was.

That probably should have been his first indication that something wrong was going to happen.

It's nearly time for curfew for all the kids, and he's still missing two of them. Hitoshi and Danny, who had gone out to the mall. Both of them are responsible enough to know better, and to act better. Out of all the kids to lose track of time, he knows it wouldn't be them. So why are they not back yet?

His questions is answers about twenty minutes late when Hitoshi bodily slams his way through the doors of the dorm. He's panting hard like he just ran a marathon. His face is bright red and he's gasping for air, but all Aizawa can see is the way his hands are tied behind his back, and the gag in his mouth that no doubt is giving him friction burns.

Aizawa rushes forward and unties Hitoshi, who all but collapses into his arms. He discovers that Hitoshi's breathing is so hard partly due to the fact that he's on the verge of a panic attack.

"Hitoshi, kid," Aizawa says, gently cupping his student's face. There's a crowd behind him, he knows, but he can't bring himself to care. Something have obviously happened since he's arrived in this state and Danny's not with him.

It takes a few minutes to calm him down. It seems longer than that, because Hitoshi has information he so desperately wants to give. Aizawa forces himself to be patient, and to be there for Hitoshi until he can gain his bearing. And when he does, it's some of the worst news he could ever here.

"I was-I was jumped," Hitoshi pants. "At the mall. Danny went to the bathroom and then there were hands grabbing me and-I don't know what happened! I don't remember. All I remember is waking up in some alley on the other side of town and-I don't-I don't know where he is. Sensei, I don't know where he is. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."

Aizawa brings Hitoshi to his chest and hugs him tightly as he sobs. He grips the back of his jumpsuit like his life depends on it.

Hitoshi pulls away, and looks at Aizawa with the most broken look he's ever seen. With his lip wobbling and tears still streaming down his face, he whispers so low Aizawa almost doesn't here him.

"He's gone, Sensei."

#danny fenton #danny phantom #hitoshi shinso #danny x hitoshi #lov #league of villains #ghost investigation ward #guys in white #giw #mya #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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blueskrugs · 3 years

Text

Jump Then Fall | Jack Hughes

I am eternally soft for this kid, okay. this is not the original birthweek fic I had planned for him, but it is a bonus Swift Fic because I couldn't help myself. enjoy while I work on getting my shit together for the summer!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like

length: 2k words

High school relationships never worked out. That’s what they always told you, at least, when you and Jack were young and in love. And they were right, sort of. You’d broken up not long after you’d both graduated, with Jack off to be drafted and you off to college. Except you’d stayed close, texting and talking on the phone often once Jack had headed off to New Jersey. He was one of your best friends, and you were thankful he was still in your life, but you weren’t sure you’d ever stop loving him, not really.

I like the way you sound in the morning We're on the phone and without a warning I realize your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

Saturday mornings always meant long phone calls with Jack. You’d both wake up early and make coffee before spending most of the morning on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes you wished more than anything that you could see his face, but you weren’t sure what would come spilling out of your mouth when you saw him.

One cold morning in December, you were pretty sure Jack had still been asleep when you called. His voice was slow and rough when he spoke, but you could still hear the smile in his voice.

When you heard him yawn, big enough his jaw cracked, you laughed. “Am I keeping you awake?” you asked.

Jack rushed to answer, “No, never.”

“Jack,” you warned.

Jack laughed. “We got in late last night, I’m just a little tired, I’m fine,” he told you.

“I can let you go back to sleep,” you said.

You heard Jack sit up on the other end of the line. “No way, absolutely not,” he said.

“We’re not even talking about anything important.” You’d mostly been stressing about the end of the semester.

“So? I like talking to you,” Jack argued.

You sighed. “You’re an idiot,” but it came out more fond than annoyed.

Somehow, that phone call lasted almost two more hours. Later, you wouldn’t remember what dumb thing you’d quipped that had made Jack burst out laughing, but you’d always remember the sound of that laugh. You’d wished you’d been able to record it, to have it to listen to on rough days, on days you missed Jack a little extra.

I hear the words but all I can think is We should be together

Jack was telling some story about his teammates. You were only half-listening, paying more attention to his face as he talked. It was late, and Quinn and Jack were home for Christmas. You and the three Hughes boys had taken over the basement for the night. Quinn and Luke were sprawled out on the couch opposite you, and you were buried under several blankets with your feet in Jack’s lap. He was using one hand to help illustrate his story, but the other was resting on your ankle, warm despite the chill outside, his thumb absently rubbing against your bare skin.

Quinn threw a balled up napkin at you, jolting you back to reality. “What’re you thinking about over there?” he asked.

“What?” You threw the napkin back at Quinn.

Luke chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s not that funny, there’s no way you’re smiling at him.”

“Hey!” Jack protested. You dug your heel into his thigh, and he turned to grin at you.

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. You always seemed to be smiling when you were around Jack, you couldn’t help it.

“Just missed you guys,” you said, grinning back at Jack.

Jack squeezed your ankle and went back to telling his story. You still weren’t listening.

Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face You got the keys to me I love each freckle on your face, oh

When Jack first started growing his hair out, you hated it.

“No, why,” you said the first time you saw him that summer. Luke laughed from somewhere behind you.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and smirked at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You love my hair.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I’ve changed my mind,” you said.

Jack squawked, outraged and offended. He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close as you giggled and tried to get away. “You’ll pay for that,” he told you. You dug your elbow into his ribs until he let go of you.

Later that night found the two of you left alone near the bonfire as the sun went down.

“Hey,” Jack said. You locked your phone and tilted your head back to look up at him upside down. “Do you really not like the hair?” he asked.

You snorted. “Would you cut it if I said I didn’t?” Jack shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. You sat up and twisted to look at Jack properly. “You wouldn’t, oh my God.” It was hard to tell, but he might’ve been blushing in the fading light,

“Just tell me the truth,” he said.

You looked at Jack, really looked at him. He was tan, a new burst of freckles dusted across his nose. He’d shoved a hat on since you’d first seen him earlier in the day, but you could still see how his hair was just beginning to curl at the ends past the nape of his neck. Jack stared back at you, blue eyes dark.

“I guess I could get used to it,” you said.

Honestly, you were so gone for him, you were pretty sure you’d end up still liking him no matter what he looked like.

When people say things that bring you to your knees I'll catch you

Sometimes you didn’t know how Jack put up with it all. From losing streaks to being called a draft bust to people questioning whether he was capable of being a leader, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t have to deal with some bullshit. You knew it wasn’t easy, but he rarely let it get to him. Rarely, but not never.

It didn’t surprise you when your phone rang after a rough game. You answered the FaceTime call without thinking about it, smiling softly when Jack’s face filled your screen. He looked tired, dark bags under his eyes and his hair hanging limply in his face.

“Hi, bud,” you said.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed, long and loud, scrubbing his free hand across his face. You’d been able to watch the game, had watched the blowout happen in real time, just another loss in this skid, in a season that had started out promising for once.

“I’m tired,” Jack whined.

“You look like shit,” you told him. Jack stuck his tongue out at you. “Do I need to get Ty to delete Twitter off your phone again?” you asked. Jack rolled his eyes, but you weren’t joking.

“No, I just-” Jack rubbed his eyes again. “Did you see what my plus-minus was tonight?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Oh my God, no, we’re not doing this,” you said. Sometimes Jack wanted to forget everything about a shitty game, but other nights he got frustrated and wanted to pick apart every mistake he’d made on the ice. You dragged your laptop closer to you. “C’mon, open your Netflix, we’re watching a movie.”

There was some scuffling on the other end, with Jack accidentally pointing his phone at the ceiling. “Fine, but I get to pick,” he said.

You argued half-heartedly with him for a while, but he won in the end, and you settled on some movie you’d both seen a dozen times. It was quiet while you watched, a comfortable silence, heavy with familiarity.

“Hey,” Jack said lowly as the end credits rolled later. You’d been half-sure Jack had fallen asleep on you. “Thanks.”

You smiled tiredly at him. It was late, and dark in his room, and you could barely make out his blurry form on your phone. “Anytime, Jacky,” you said, but you meant, “I love you.”

You can jump then fall, jump then fall Jump then fall into me, into me, yeah

Your doorbell rang one morning in early May. When you pulled open the front door, there was Jack, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket, standing on your parent’s front porch.

“I thought you weren’t coming home for a few weeks still,” you said, leaning against the door frame. The Devils season was over, but Jack had told you he was planning on sticking around for a while or traveling some before coming home for the summer.

Jack took one of his hands out of his pocket and ran it nervously through his hair. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, instead of responding to your non-question.

You raised an eyebrow at him. You’d known Jack for years, and you could probably count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him be nervous. “Well, don’t hurt yourself with that, bud,” you told him.

He made a face at you, but it also got him to smile. “Will you just let me-” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hey, c’mon, let’s go inside,” you said, stepping back to let Jack follow you into the house.

In the living room, the TV show you had been watching was still paused, but you both ignored it. You sat back on the couch, but Jack stayed standing, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re freaking me out a little, Jacky,” you said.

Jack sighed and sat on the floor in front of you, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “I miss you,” he said.

“Jack, we talk every day,” you told him. “I’m right here,” you added softly.

Jack huffed and ran his hands through his hair again. He laid back for a moment, staring silently up at the ceiling fan as it slowly turned above you.

“Have you ever thought about getting back together?” he asked when he sat back up.

You thought about it a lot, actually, but you just said, “Yeah.”

“Do you think we could do it?” Jack asked next.

You hesitated on that one. You’d thought that, maybe, you could’ve made it back when you were in high school, but things were so different now. You’d listened to the opinions of others so much back then, had broken up in part because you thought that it was inevitable anyway. Could you make it through all that again? You still had a few years until you graduated, and New Jersey wasn’t exactly close.

Then again, you two were as close as ever. Jack had only missed a handful of your Saturday morning phone calls, and it was always just because of hockey. He was still sitting on the floor in front of you, looking nervous as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

Jack’s face fell a little. “Do you think we could try?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, just as honestly. You’d never been good at saying no to Jack, anyway.

Jack beamed, and you knew exactly why you still loved him after all this time. Jack leaned forward and tugged at your foot. “Hey, come down here,” he whined. “Wanna kiss you.”

“Or you could come up here?” Jack tugged harder. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking needy,” you laughed, but you slid off the couch and let Jack pull you into his lap.

His hands went to your waist, sliding under your T-shirt, and he smiled smugly up at you. “Hi.”

You pressed a kiss to his nose. “Hi,” you said back.

“Uh-uh, you can do better than that.” A kiss to his cheek. Jack rolled his eyes and put one of his hands on your cheek to drag you in for a real kiss. “That’s better,” he whispered, but you were already leaning in for another kiss.

#cait writes things #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

I really love when people write about c!wilbur manipulating c!dream so I was wondering if you could write on about the smp realizing that c!wilbur manipulated c!dream into being a lap dog for him but a hell lot of trouble for then and if you could add c!wilbur taking advantage of the fact that dream is a god during a fight that would make my day. Hope you have a great day.thank you. Love your work.

ooh yeah - c!wilbur is back and GGG-ing as good as ever, , which Really makes you think abt what it’s gonna be like when he interacts with c!dream again. this ended up being a little more c!sapnap centric than i intended, hope that’s alright haha. (and thank you so much for the kind words!)

tw: implied abuse, torture, drowning, dismemberment, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, emotional distress, dark content, prison arc/pandora’s vault, c!sapnap critical? not really?, dark portrayal of c!wilbur (typical MAD duo shenanigans)

Sapnap isn’t expecting to find anyone when he storms out in the middle of the night - he’s tense, they all are after the fiasco at the prison, but really his thoughts are filled with Karl once again going inexplicably radio silent for days on end and Quackity ignoring all of his questions with a simple “i’m busy” that he’d failed to follow up even twelve hours later, so Dream and Wilbur and whatever the hell happened that left Pandora’s Vault - obsidian, indestructible, tall and dark and proud - half-crumbled and sunken into the sea are just about the last things on his mind.

Even so, he’s not an idiot, so he had enough foresight to pack a few potions and gather his armor and weapons before stepping into the summer night - it’s cool under the moonlight, a soft breeze cutting through the otherwise stifling weight of the humid air, and the comfortable night is enough to make his anger die down, just a little. Kinoko Kingdom glows soft and warm from the lanterns Foolish had scattered all over the place, thick with the earthy smell of fungus and flowers, and he takes a deep breath before walking to the city outskirts to hopefully clear his mind.

He’s no stranger to late-night walks; his temper had always been fiery, even as a child, and he’d figured out pretty early on that the easiest way to deal with it was to walk or run until his brain was too tired to think anymore. Walking at night also meant he could take out some of his frustration on mobs as well as the satisfaction of setting a random patch of forest on fire without worrying about burning down someone else’s property, and once he got good enough with a sword and shield to come and go relatively unscathed, Bad had stopped his worrying enough to let him do whatever as long as he came back in time in the morning. Sapnap frowns as he hacks at a random branch in his way with an axe, watching as it falls in a spray of leaves and crashes to the ground; he hasn’t seen Bad in a while, not since he became obsessed with the whole Egg thing. Quackity had mentioned some cryptic things, and Karl was adamant that they avoid the Egg as much as possible, but he probably should’ve at least visited, or something. Bad always knew what to say when it came to messy things like this.

Though - Sapnap laughs wryly - it’d never been this bad, before. Karl distant and absent, Q somehow even more so with a new glint to his gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. George, usually asleep, never around, expression perpetually foggy like he doesn’t know where he was. Dream- evil, insane, awful, somehow so familiar it hurt and too much of a stranger to recognize. He wonders when it all got this bad. He wonders what it says about himself, that he didn’t notice until it was far too late.

“Fancy seeing you out here.”

Sapnap whirls around, sword drawn; the figure staring back at him doesn’t even flinch. His eyes narrow at the sight, stance widening, shoulders tense.

“Wilbur?” He keeps his voice wary, guarded, trying his best to keep surprise from coloring his tone. Wilbur grins at him, tight-lipped, the planes of his face faintly lit by the moon shining over them, facial features only barely visible in the dim light. Without really meaning to, Sapnap cranes his head to look around at the surrounding forest, but nothing moves or makes itself known outside of the figure still staring at him, smirking. “What- what are you doing here?”

And where’s Dream?

Because Sapnap might not know much about what went down at the prison and what Dream’s plans are and the whole mess that he’d been so desperate to put behind him and utterly failed at doing so, but what he does know is that the two of them - Dream and Wilbur, Wilbur and Dream - had been all but inseparable, strangely attached to each other in a way that spelled out nothing but trouble for the rest of them. The rest of the server had been compiling sightings of the two in the hopes of being able to stop whatever it was that they had planned, but Sapnap knows his former friend, brother, and even if he doesn’t know Wilbur, his reputation more than precedes him: the two of them are smart, not to mention paranoid as fuck, and the rest of them have a better shot shooting targets in the dark than figuring out whatever the hell was going on in their heads with the two of them working together. Either way, he knows that they’d never been sighted apart - it was always Wilbur standing on a hill with Dream sitting next to him, or Dream hacking through mobs as Wilbur followed, or the two of them stepping into a fortress and leaving minutes after - until now.

“Could ask the same of you,” Wilbur laughs, just a shade to the left of friendly, and the moonlight scatters through the leaves and glints off his glasses. “Don’t be so tense, man! I’m just going on a walk, thought I’d enjoy the night. Didn’t see anything like this in Limbo, you know.”

Sapnap winces at the reminder, that Wilbur is here and alive in defiance of law and reason and the universe itself, but Wilbur barrels on, seeming unaware of his unease.

“Anyway - how are you doing, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He leans back, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, stance loose, relaxed. “I’d ask Dream, but he’s been in prison for a bit, you know? Most of what he knows is pretty - ah, outdated, not that I tell him that.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap snaps, grip tightening around the handle of his sword. “You and Dream. What do you want?”

“Who’s to say we want anything?” Wilbur seems to grin wider, and the expression on his face is unsettling, makes something cold slither up his spine. He shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling, half-wishing it was brighter so he could better see the other’s eyes.

“I mean-” he stutters. Because Dream always wants, he almost says, bitter and angry, that all-too-familar swell of betrayal rising in his chest at Dream, forever insatiated, forever wanting, forever looking for more more more. Because if he were to escape, and if he were to want nothing, then what did that mean for the rest of them? Because if he didn’t want, if he wasn’t left wanting, then did Sapnap ever mean anything at all? The thoughts stick to his skull like tar, words clinging to the roof of his mouth as it goes dry. Wilbur seems to stare at him, unimpressed, and he feels his face go hot.

“He’s not- he’s dangerous, you know,” Sapnap says instead of answering, because untangling the awful, knotted feelings that make up his remaining ties with Dream, half-frayed and neglected and forgotten, is more work than he can handle and more emotions than he has the energy to bear. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because Dream is still dangerous; he knows that, resolutely, and maybe it’s lucky, that he found Wilbur without Dream whispering plans and manipulations and meaningless words by his side. It’ll give him a chance to warn Wilbur, bring him back to their side instead of risking his life (again) in the company of his friend-turned-tyrant. Dream is dangerous, whether he wants or not, because Dream is Dream and he’s been in too many manhunts to face him with anything less than one hundred percent confidence. “You don’t want to be with him, Wilbur. He’s hurt- so many people.”

Wilbur’s expression doesn’t change, seeming as indifferent to the words as ever; if anything, he looks a little amused. “Really,” he hums, almost to himself. “Dangerous, you say?”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap insists, because it’s the truth, and it’s the simplicity of it, really. It’s Dream, and Dream is dangerous whether he’s on your side or not, forever ruthless and unheeding as long as he gets what he wants. He’d been in Wilbur’s place, once, convinced that Dream’s strategies and planning and infallible logic had meant they had no way of losing. He knows better, now. “You’ve fought him before! He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything.”

And if the words are a little more bitter than they should be when he says that, who but he is going to notice?

Wilbur’s eyes stay on his, completely silent, expression unreadable. The quiet gets awkward quickly, Wilbur’s expression seeming unchanging, nothing but the faint rustling of the leaves around them to break the stillness of the air, and Sapnap feels his gut roll uncomfortably as he looks off to the ground, waiting for Wilbur to react in some way, any way. It’s hard, he knows, to realize that someone you thought was on your side had been using you the entire time, he’s been there before and he gets it, but- it’s still strange, how still Wilbur has become. How he still hasn’t reacted - is his expression going to change?

And suddenly, starting quiet and then swelling in volume, Wilbur begins to laugh.

“Goodness,” Wilbur drawls through his chuckles, voice low and dark and sending chills down his back. “I thought he was exaggerating, man - you really do hate him, don’t you?”

“What- what’s so funny?”

Wilbur smiles, teeth flashing white as the faint light from the moon bounces off of them, “I have to give you my thanks, truly. I’d thought that Quackity did the most of it, or Sam, but you- I really couldn’t have guessed.”

Sapnap’s head is spinning. Wilbur’s expression is positively gleeful, eyes dancing, smile wide and brilliant, bouncing from one name to another with little explanation to how any of them tie together. Sam? Quackity? Nothing is making sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh Sapnap,” Wilbur croons. “You really don’t know, do you?”

He twists his hand in a flippant gesture, eyes directed into the forest surrounding them.

“Let’s just say that his, ah- stay, in Pandora, wasn’t exactly what I’d call a five-star experience. But you know that, don’t you?” Wilbur directs a flat smile his way, and Sapnap swallows, throat dry. Briefly, images flash behind his eyes - walls, dripping with crying obsidian, the lava’s heat hard to bear at his back, even for him, mining fatigue pulling at his limbs and making them heavy. How startlingly bare the cell had been, even through the haze of his anger, Dream, slumped in a corner of the cell, barely moving, barely even breathing as it seemed sometimes, sunken-in cheeks and sagging shoulders speaking of nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion. “Apparently, being psychologically and physically tortured for months on end has an interesting effect on the human psyche. Even more so when, say, your best friend comes once in the entire time to tell you that he’ll kill you if you ever try to escape.”

“How-” he trips on his own words, lungs seizing, “how do you know that?”

“He tells me things. A lot of things, really. Did you know it takes one and a half regen potions to reattach an arm after it’s been cut off? It takes three and a half for a leg, he thinks, but the blood loss made it rather hard to remember.” Wilbur steps forward. “Did you know that scars created by healing potions tend to be much thicker and more prominent than those made by regens? Or that he can hold his breath for a little more than two minutes before passing out?” Wilbur smirks, jagged, threatening. “Did you know that I can tell him just about everything, and he’ll believe me because there’s no one else to tell him otherwise?”

“Wh- what?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him what you said; I’m sure he’ll love to hear how his brother is doing.” Wilbur waves. “And when you see Quackity, be sure to give him my thanks, will you?”

“Wilbur, what- come back-”

And with a flash of purple particles, Wilbur disappears, leaving Sapnap alone in the middle of the forest. Stasis chamber. His heart pounds in his ears, breathing all-too-loud, and he stares desperately at the empty space where Wilbur had stood like it’ll bring him back again.

Fuck, he swipes his hand across his face, startled when it comes back wet. What does he do now?

#tw abuse #tw torture #tw drowning #tw dismemberment #tw manipulation #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw dark content #prison arc #pandora's vault #c!sapnap critical #mutually assured destruction #my asks !!#-> my asks #my writing :D #-> my writing

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

Text

flight plan

disclaimer: this takes place in pre-you-know-what times - if you’re actually sick, do not do what B does here. alright, on to the suffering :)

Back when B booked their flight, the 4 am boarding time and 2 layovers seemed like a great exchange for saving a few hundred dollars while flying across the country. But now, with a head that feels like it was stuffed with cotton, a gate change that forced their leadened body to trek across the entire airport, and an additional 3-hour delay before their final 4-hour flight, they were beginning to question their penny-pinching ways.

In a nearby terminal, a fussy infant screamed, and it took everything for B not to scream back at them: I hate it here too! Their nerves were frayed, their whole body ached to the bone, and their head felt like it was in a vise grip.

It hadn’t felt this bad this morning - heck, they wouldn’t have left if they’d felt this bad - but the changing cabin pressure and constant temperature shifts from hot, stuffy terminals to icy planes were wreaking havoc on their poor, rapidly sickening body. They’d been up for 18 hours. And now, they had no choice but to ride it out and power through the last leg. They hug the paper cup of tea they’d grabbed at a nearby cafe close to their chest, trying to hold back their frustrated tears.

They just wanted to be home.

B shifts on the hard terminal seat as they wrap up a third agonizing hour of waiting, willing the passengers ahead of them to board more quickly so they could just get home to A, who they’d been missing all week. But the miserable minutes ticked by, and B kept having to blow their tender nose with their precious (and dangerously dwindling) travel pack of tissues. As they massage their aching sinuses, B feels a tap on their shoulder. Turning, they recognize a fellow passenger from their previous flight extending another full pack their way.

“Here. You need these more than I do.” They extend the gift, and B gratefully accepts. The stranger nods, and heads back to their luggage to wait out the boarding process.

After what feels like an hour, B’s group is finally able to board the flight. From their boarding pass, they knew they’d be stuck in the middle seat, but their heart lifts a bit when they see their Kleenex-wielding savior in the aisle seat next to theirs, who waves and gives them a small smile as they let them through. On the window seat side, a sour-looking individual scans them up and down, raising an eyebrow when B coughs roughly in their elbow.

“Sorry…” B sniffles. The sour-faced person rolls their eyes and turns their attention to the window, and B shrinks in their seat, embarrassed.

“Just want to be home, right?” Their aisle friend smiles sympathetically, and B nods weakly. “I know the feeling. Name’s C.”

B introduces themselves, and the two make amicable small talk during the pre-flight checklist, finding out that they both called their destination city home. As the plane takes flight, B winces - the pressure change makes their head ache, and their sinuses feel like they’re going to explode, along with their ears. The dry air of the plane irritates their chapped nose, and they close their eyes and grip the armrest till their knuckles bleach, trying to breathe through the pain and praying it doesn't get worse.

It gets worse. On top of their pounding head and runny nose, B discovers like all the other planes, this one's an icebox. Once they reach cruising altitude, B apologetically shuffles by C to head to the bathroom, hoping that by some chance it’s warmer in there. In the dim light, B’s stares at their haggard reflection – their feverish eyes are glazed and watery, their raw nose is bright red, and their peaked face is wan and drawn, coated with a sheen of sweat. Hopefully A would still recognize them, they thought humorlessly.

The bathroom is just as frigid, and B’s stuck with a stream of lukewarm water that barely heats their cold hands. Back in their seat, the throbbing headache continues to build behind their eyes, and their throat desperately cries out for something to drink.

As if they could hear their thoughts, C leans over and pulls a small bottle of water from their personal bag. “The flight attendants came by with drinks while you were up - figured you could at least use some water.” B gratefully accepts and murmurs their thanks, and the cool water feels like heaven as they gulp it down.

After, B pulls the paper-thin flight blanket up to their chin - at this point, they didn’t care what the travel magazines said about how dirty they were. But it’s no use. The cold plane air sinks into their aching bones, and their body shivers to make up the difference. They close their eyes and wriggle around in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position that still allows them to curl up and get warm while exhaling as few germs as possible – and if there's any mercy at all, to fall unconscious for the next 3 and a half hours.

“Will you stop?” The window passenger glares at them. “It’s bad enough you brought your germs on here. But now you can’t even sit still?” Tears pricked at B's eyes - being sick always made them more sensitive - but before they can squeak out an apology, C leaps to their aid.

"Lay off," C snaps. "Can't you see they don't feel good?" The other passenger huffs indignantly, and presses closer to the wall of the plane. C's eyes don't leave them, and they stretch their hand out tentatively toward B. "May I?"

B nods, letting their eyes close, and C gently lays a cool hand across their forehead, clicking their tongue at the heat. "Well, I've definitely flown with healthier seatmates than you." B tries to laugh, but a cough seizes their lungs, and they double over to try and contain it as best they can as C gently rubs between their shoulder blades. When they finally catch their breath, they rest their head on their knees, exhausted from the exertion. From their prone position, B checks their watch. 3 hours and 26 minutes to go.

I'm going to die.

Slowly, B sits up and stiffly straightens their blanket with as little movement as possible. A draft floods their section of the plane, and B longingly eyes C’s unopened blanket tucked in the seat pocket, trying to quiet the incessant chatter of their teeth.

“You cold?” C frowns.

“Freezing,” they whimper through clenched teeth. “And I hurt all over and I just want to go home and I miss A and I’m so tired.” They didn’t mean to break down, but two twin tears slip from their eyes as they try to stop their lip from quivering.

C’s quiet for a moment, then stands to rustle around in the overhead compartment, and returns with a small bundle.

“Lean back,” C gently commands, and A obeys and closes their eyes. They’re immediately draped in warmth, and open their eyes to see a thick, fleece-lined jacket being tucked over them, along with a soft travel blanket over their legs. They try to protest, but C shushes them.

“Being sick is already miserable without being stuck in a tin can in the sky. Besides, these flight blankets suck." C gives B's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and B nearly melts at the touch.

“And look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine - you don’t know me - but you can use my shoulder if you want to try and catch some sleep.”

In any other moment B would be mortified, but they're so spent that they just nod weakly and surrender to the offer of comfort. C pulls their unused blanket out and folds it into a sort of pillow, clicking the armrest down between them, and B collapses onto them in a boneless heap. Sleep tugs at the edge of their vision, but there's one lingering question on their mind.

"C? Why....why are you helping me? You've been nothing but kind and you don't even know me."

C's quiet for a moment. "Last year, I tried to do the same thing you're doing – power through an 8-hour flight home with a blossoming case of pneumonia. Cough, chills, headache, the works. About 2 hours in, I was about ready to jump out of the plane." They chuckle lightly, but B hears the wistful note in their voice. "It was absolutely miserable, and all I wanted was someone to hold my hand and tell me it’d be okay.”

C turns to look at B. "But nobody did. Not a single soul. So I vowed that if ever I found myself in a position someday to help somebody home, I’d do it.”

The words are so achingly comforting and desperately sad, so soft and generous and B feels like they should say something, affirm that yes, helping a random sick passenger was damn close to sainthood. But instead, sleep wins over, and they nestle closer to C as they tumble into a soft, dreamless sleep.

it feels like they’re asleep for minutes, but when C nudges them gently, they realize that they’re descending. They’re home.

The wheels skid on the runway, and the journey off the plane is a blur of sound and color and too-bright lights. B is only vaguely aware of C’s arm around their waist, guiding them through the crowd and to the baggage claim area. They must have told C which suitcase is theirs, because they blink twice and it magically appears at their feet.

“C’mon now, B. Almost there.” C gently guides them forward, and B wills themselves to power through the final few minutes.

“Do you see A anywhere?” C asks, squinting through the crowd of people. B can barely focus their eyes, and they’re losing hope, when all of a sudden - they see them. A. Holding a small paper sign with B’s name and a stuffed animal with a small red heart in their arms, waving wildly. They’re beaming, but the smile falls from their face as they see what condition B’s in.

“B - what happened? Are you okay?” B can barely whisper A’s name, and A pulls them into a hug, gently whispering reassurances, that they’re home and safe.

“Bit of a rough flight, but B hung in there,” C smiles, passing B’s suitcase to A. “They’re not feeling too hot, but I think they’ll make it.”

Suddenly, B releases A and stumbles back to C, throwing their arms around them. C’s thrown off balance by the strength of the hug, but manage to compose themselves and pat them gently on the back.

“Thank you,” B whispers. “So much.”

C blushes. “It was nothing. Just don’t forget to pay it forward.”

B squeezes tighter. “You deserved help. You still do.” C says nothing, just swallows tightly, and B feels C’s arms tighten ever so briefly around their waist.

A rush of dizziness floods B, and C gently guides them back to A’s waiting arms, before handing A a scrap of paper. “Listen, it’s none of my business - but can you give me a call in a couple days, just so I know they’re feeling better?”

A takes the scrap and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping old B from falling apart in public.” B grunts indignantly, almost asleep again, and A strokes their hair and smiles.

They make it back to the car, and A manages to maneuver a limp B into the passenger seat, tucking them in and cranking the heat on their side. B blinks their eyes open and smiles guilelessly. “Go home now?”

A smiles and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. “Yes, love. We’re going home now.”

#fever whump #sickfic #whump prompt #hurt comfort #caretaking #whump on a plane #PLANE WHUMP EVERYONE #FINALLY #this really took a turn I was not expecting when I set out to write this #BUT ITS DONE #also there is most certainly space for a part 2 👀

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

It Can Be Both (Emily x Alex x Kelley x Reader)

Request: Kelley,Emily,Alex, and yn now like two on each team and yn is a goal keeper just watching confused wondering what the hell everyone is on and how it’s going to end later (You know)

Author’s Note: I’m going to be honest- this felt very much like a rebound after doing gravity. Like something to get my writing juices flowing again. it ends with a touch of sexual content so warning. hit me up if you have questions or just wanna chat.

You knew it was going to be a rough one before you even stepped on the pitch. Hell, you knew it was gonna be bad when Alex and Kelley started betting before national team camp had even started.

Though they were two of the most competitive people on the planet, you and Emily were not (off the pitch at least). But it was hard to stay out of it when their performance, chosen rewards, and/or punishments very much included the both of you.

You barely even got to admire how good either of your girlfriends looked in white (you made sure Alex knew your feelings about her in that galaxy kit) before things started to get wild.

“Come on ref!” You yelled, running a gloved hand frustratedly through your hair and shaking your head. Was Sonnett’s challenge hard, yes, but did it deserve a yellow? You didn’t think so.

You could guess that some of Emily's aggression came from the reward Kelley negotiated for them if the Spirit beat the Pride. At least Alex was laughing it off and standing.

“Looks like your girls are trying to murder each other,” Ali snorted, pausing just outside the box to protect against a counter if the corner kick in the other box went south.

“Vlatko’s probably shitting his pants,” You mumbled, wincing as Emily and Alex clashed again. God, Emily wanted to win.

“What’s gotten into them,” Ali asked, just as your two defenders collapsed the pocket Alex was trying to slip through.

You raised your eyebrow at the defender, your cheeks a little red (blatantly ignoring Kelley’s wink from across the field), “you really don’t want to know,”

Ali looked between you and the three women battling it out on the field, smirking a little. Even though she had seen it more times than she could count, it was still a little strange to see your tall frame look so flustered. “Ooo, so it’s one of those games?”

“I didn’t ask to be a part of it,” you huffed, crossing your arms indignantly.

“So there’s not something riding on you getting a clean sheet?” It was Ali’s turn to raise her eyebrows. More red-colored your cheeks, so much so you were sure it was all the way up to your ears by now.

It wasn’t a secret that it was a thing during the World Cup. One that you very much enjoyed, especially after you pulled off a PK save in the final to come out with a clean sheet.

You paused, biting your lip. “Not tonight,”

Ali laughed loudly as Alex set up for her another corner. “Ah, so it all depends on them then?”

You shrugged. Most of the time you really hated giving up control, but Alex also promised you would like what she picked (even if you weren’t planning on participating). You also trusted Emily and Kelley to stick to your limits, no matter how stoked they were on winning (if they won).

You sighed when Emily marked Alex just a touch too closely again. “More like Alex and Kel. Guess they got Em on board too,”

“Did you expect them not to?” Ali asked, her voice showing that she already knew the answer.

“No, just thought Emily would be on my side,” You grumbled, a gloved hand scratching the back of your neck.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t enjoy whatever they have planned at all,” Ali rolled her eyes and patted your shoulder, before heading off as the Spirit tried to counter.

“Shut up,” You huffed, backing up towards goal, your cheeks still very red. You still had 80is minutes to go before you would find out exactly what your girlfriends had planned.

*****

You had seen a lot of bad refs, but this one was something special. She was micromanaging the field, and you were starting to get tired of it.

“What the fuck,” You grumbled in between giving your defense direction.

It was one thing to yell at Kelley for being a little rough (even if it was with Alex), and another to argue with her about

“Surprised she hasn’t hit her yet,” Emily said, side-eyeing you.

“Be surprised I haven’t hit you yet,” You huffed, barely sparing your blond defender a glance. Fouling as much as she had wasn’t good form, and it wouldn’t help her case with Vlatko.

Plus you were too busy watching the refs try to corral your most stubborn girlfriend. Her irritation was palpable and you knew if the Ref kept pushing, Kelley was probably going to respond exactly how Emily thought she would.

“Ooo, kinky,” She laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “Just clean it up and chill out alright? We need to be able to play to make the team,”

She snorted, bumping you with her elbow. “Not a chance with what Al put on the line,”

“I don’t care what she bet. Cool it so we all walk out tonight,” You growled a little more firmly, taking on the tone you used when giving orders on the pitch. The voice that always made her and Kelley listen to you when they were giving you shit for being younger.

Instead of saluting like she normally would, a very large smirk broke across Emily’s face. “You have no idea what she chose do you?”

You froze, finally looking towards the defender and blinking owlishly at her.

So maybe you hadn’t considered that Alex would include you in the bet, and factor in your opinion on her chosen reward. You thought maybe you would just get to watch whatever they had decided and stay safe from whatever punishment if you lost.

Emily cackled as the ball sailed right past your state of stupor, running off to celebrate before you could even respond.

Despite being in a relationship with them for nearly 2 years, it still caught you off guard sometimes when they included you. It took you a very long time to open up and accept their love (and their physical touch), and even though you were comfortable now, it was still a weird experience to have them care. To have them always think of you when making plans (even ones you weren’t sure you wanted to be involved in).

You blinked again, shaking your head as though it would help you clear your thoughts. It didn’t, but a warm hand on your shoulder and an annoyed (but concerned voice) in your ear helped.

“Hey space cadet, you ok there?”

“Um, yeah,” You smiled tightly at Alex, allowing yourself to lean into her for just a second. It was hard to focus on the game with all the stuff running around your head.

“Good, cause the ref just called back the kick. Get ready to go again,” She said softly, brushing a fallen strand from your eyes. “and keep your eyes on the ball this time,” She smirked, tapping your nose.

You wrinkled it under her finger. She laughed a little. It was nice to see you so relaxed, even when you were surrounded by so many people. Maybe they would have to play these little games more often, you know if it could get you to let down your stoic exterior. “You can stare at Em later after we win. She’ll be in a much more… enjoyable position,” she wiggled her eyebrows and squeezed your shoulder.

“Eye eye captain,” You saluted, earning another laugh.

“You’ve been hanging out with Emily too much,” she said, with the roll of her eyes as she headed off to her position for the re-kick.

You wouldn’t let it slip past you again. Alex was right, you would be able to enjoy your girlfriends later.

*****

“That fucking goal should have counted and you know it,” Kelley grumbled as she slipped into the back seat with you.

“Well it didn’t,” you mumbled, scooting over as Emily hopped into the other side, effectively trapping you between them.

“You two cheated anyway,” Alex said from the front seat, glancing back at the three of you in the rear view mirror. You didn’t know it yet, but this was very much part of her plan.

“We did not,” Kelley snorted, shuffling even closer to you, so your thighs were pressed together, just as Emily did the same thing on your other side. You didn’t think much of it, both defenders were always rather cuddly after a game.

“So Em distracting y/n wasn’t part of the plan?” Alex asked, raising a signature eyebrow in the mirror (sharing a look with Kelley - one you didn’t see.)

“And neither of you were trying to remove Alex’s ankles from her body?” You added, wigging a little as Emily’s hand landed on your thigh, just a bit too high to be a friendly touch.

“We plead the fifth,” She said softly, very close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You sucked in a shallow breath when Kelley’s hand joined hers on your other thigh. Her lips touched your neck and worked their way up to your ear.

“But can I just say, your red cheeks made you look very cute tonight,” she purred, nibbling at the skin on your ear, just as Emily did the same on your other side.

The heat returned to your cheeks, and your hands clenched on your knees. You weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do with them.

“I’m not cute,” You muttered, your fingers tapped uncomfortably on your legs. You didn’t like not being the one in control.

“Just sit back and enjoy it babe,” Emily hummed, her lips working from behind your ear all the way back down your neck to nibble on your collarbone. her hand also shifted to intertwine your fingers.

The small act helped you to relax a little, and you squeezed her fingers in thanks.

“Yeah, we’re gonna take very good care of you,” You could feel Kelley’s smirk just behind your ear as her fingers traced a little higher. You knew you could put a stop to this if you really wanted to, but you weren’t sure that you did.

You found Alex’s eyes in the mirror, flicking between the road and your face.

“Thought this was your reward, not mine,” You said, your voice coming out in little pants.

She smiled slyly at you. “Why can’t it be both?”

Kelley’s hand squeezed your thigh, just as Emily scraped her teeth along your shoulder. “Yeah?” Kelley asked into your ear.

“Yeah. It can be both,”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 3 years

Text

liar liar

request: I have a request, the reader is dating Spencer, and she and JJ are the ones that know that Emily faked her death. I’m thinking of it taking place in “It Takes A Village,” and she has to deal with Spencer being upset with her, like he was with JJ, but it has a fluff ending? Thanks!

for: @flklrevrmre

word count: 3,722 reading time: 15 mins

a/n: i) if you guys want to be added to my taglist lmk ii) can we all simultaneously fall in love with asa butterfield so i can read more fanfic about him? iii) it’s good to be back ;)

masterlist

You’d think that in a room of profilers they’d be able to recognize the antsy twitches of my ankles and the incessant rubbing of my wrists. Let alone the fact that one of those profilers was someone who knew the inside of my skin better than I did. My staggered breath elicited an involuntary gulp from my esophagus, throwing off my composure.

I pretended to stare at the blank screen of the television in the round table room, dissociating myself from the events to come. Curious murmurs and the shuffling of feet behind me became a chilling tether that reminded me of my circumstances. My breath hitched slightly at the presence of Spencer’s voice, although even the comforting thought of him only aggravated the disquietude bubbling at the bottom of my stomach.

I feel like I’m standing on the precipice of a cliff with the rocks rumbling beneath me. I knew this was a burden, a responsibility that I had to keep for the team--for Emily. I know that I’m not alone on this cliff, but I also know that the weight of this secret was slowly pushing all of us on edge.

“Hotch, are you sure you want to do this now?” JJ questioned him with an astonishing look. I tucked my hands into my pockets, leaning against the round table to give his proposition some thought.

“It’s time,” he sighed, lost in his world of thought. “We’ve kept this for months, and Doyle won’t speak about Declan. We need Emily,” he continued, pulling out his phone to ready an alert for the team.

“You don’t think Morgan can get through Doyle without her?” she reasoned.

“No,” he firmly answered, pulling his phone to his ear, and walked out of the room to call Penelope.

JJ shook her head in disapproval, taking a seat on the tabletop behind her. “I don’t know about this Y/N,” she announced, turning her head to gauge my reaction. “I just feel like...it’s too soon,” she expressed.

I chewed on my bottom lip, my mind engulfed by one thing: Spencer.

“What?” I snapped out of my thoughts, JJ’s voice finally registering in my head.

“It’s too soon, don’t you think?” she sought my confidence, but in all honesty, I wasn’t sure either. “I’m sorry, JJ but I don’t know,” I confessed, unable to gather my thoughts, “All I can...all I can think about is Spencer. I know it’s selfish, but…” My voice was caught on my tongue. Although there is a reason for that, I’ve been lying to someone I loved for seven months.

At the mention of Spencer’s name, JJ moved from her position to sit idly next to me. She observed the solemn and grief-stricken expression on my face, reaching over to lay a tender hand on top of mine. “I know,” she reassured.

“But Hotch is right,” I reasoned, “Emily--t-the team--they have the right to know,” I stammered over my words as I took a calming breath, exhaling out my worries. “JJ, he’s going to be devastated.”

“Then...we’ll tell him together,” she justified, a motherly yet comforting air radiating from her.

Together. That was the plan.

“Everybody take a seat,” Hotch gestured to the team. He folded his arms together and peered at his colleagues with a stern yet apologetic expression. “Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team.”

Everyone looked around at each other with curious glances. Spencer, on the other hand, turned to me for an explanation. Although when I refused to meet his eyes, it was evident that something serious had occurred.

“As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood in her fight with Doyle,” Hotch lamented, observing the sudden pensive atmosphere of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw Morgan clench and unclench his fists, empathetic about the guilt that still haunted him. “But the doctors were still able to stabilize her.”

An audible gasp escaped Garcia’s lips, instinctively turning to gauge at Derek’s countenance. But the only emotion present was turmoil. His features had hardened into bewilderment, letting Hotch’s words resonate in his mind. Rossi looked to Hotch while Spencer faced me and JJ. The expression on Spencer’s face was similar to Derek’s, he was in between disbelief and denial. Although what I couldn’t face was his pleading eyes that begged for my confirmation.

“...and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under convert exfiltration,” Hotch continued to explain, receiving pained looks from his peers. “Her identity was strictly need-to-know, and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel.”

“What does...what does this…” Garcia shook her head, stammering.

“She was assigned to Paris and given several identities--none of which we had access to for her security.” Hotch finished.

Morgan scoffed in incredulity, retreating into his mind. Standing up from his chair, he backed away from the table, clasping his hands behind his head. Garcia, frozen in her seat, spoke apprehensively with glassy eyes, “She’s alive?”

My heart broke at the anguished crack in her deliverance, remorse eating up my insides. Spencer’s posture straightened up in his chair, leaning forward to question Hotch’s place in all this. “But...we buried her,” Spencer rebutted in a strained voice.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision,” Hotch nodded at the team, “If anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan seethed, “Yeah, I got issues.”

The combined expressions of deception and the troublesome atmosphere was enough of a cue for the individual in question to step out. In all her glory, Emily unveiled herself by the door with a conciliatory frown upon her lips. Her fingers were tethered together, an idiosyncrasy of hers that became apparent at the times of disquiet.

“Did you...you know about this?” Spencer flipped his focus on me and JJ, “Did you both know about this?” he scoffed. The dreaded time finally came, the time of confession. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat tightened up, and my tongue swelled. Regret had tangled me in its inescapable ropes that no noble reasoning would have freed me from my part in this decision.

“Spencer,” Hotch attempted to contend, but Spencer refused to listen.

How was he going to take the news? How could his best friend and his girlfriend lie to him like this?

“Spence,” JJ sighed, “This operation had to be covert for Emily’s sake--and Declan.” By now, everyone’s attention was on me and JJ. I almost couldn’t handle the distraught expression on Morgan’s face as I wasn’t only Spencer’s girlfriend, but his close friend.

How could I have done this? I’ve not only hurt Spencer, but I’ve also hurt the team--my family.

JJ stepped in front of me, brushing a calming hand on my arm. She gave me a reassuring glance, nodding at me to step forward alongside her.

I couldn’t do this.

My stomach curled, and my hands began accumulating sweat.

I can’t.

JJ took a breath, peering at Spencer with regretful eyes. She knew how to get through to him--sometimes better than me. JJ was the shoulder that Spencer could comfortably fall apart on besides me, and I didn’t have the heart to take that away from him. That’s how I knew I had to venture through this alone.

JJ hesitantly opened her mouth to speak, dropping her shoulders in vulnerability, but before the truth can slip past her lips, I interjected. “Wait! um,” I paused, processing the next words that would determine where I stood with Spencer, “I...I was the one that knew,” I muttered through my teeth, knowing that every syllable was a lie. I stepped in front of JJ; averting the attention away from her. “JJ had nothing to do with it. I informed her minutes prior to the meeting.”

Spencer became despondent. His once ardent expression slumped into one that resembled a Tim Burton character, although it was the dejected glare in his eyes that crushed me. Nothing else registered in my head; I knew that I forever scorned him.

With the silence suffocating the room, Hotch called the meeting to end. Everyone wearily stood up from where they were, Garcia instantly leaping onto Emily with numerous inquiries. Spencer didn’t even bother looking back, instead, he paced out of the room, giving Emily a long-awaited hug, and left.

As Emily became occupied with the rest of the team, JJ tugged at the end of my sleeve, pulling aside. “Why...why did you do that?” she questioned, her expression deep in perplexity. “I thought we were supposed to tell him together,” she shook her head, sighing at the sudden deviation from our plan.

“I just,” I took in a breath, “JJ, you know Spencer, and...you know how he gets,” I rationalized. An aching sensation spread across my chest as I recollected the events before, a film casting over my eyes as I justified my decision. “JJ, all I could think about in that meeting was how Spencer would feel afterward,” I croaked, “You and I know he’s already been through too much. I just couldn’t,” I repressed a choked breath. “You and I are the only people he’s okay about being open to, so I couldn’t let him deal with this alone,” I smiled pitifully, a single tear trailing down my cheek, reaching my lips.

“Y/N…” JJ consoled, pulling me into her embrace. I knew that she wanted to say something back--something to combat my reason. But deep down, she understood. I pulled away from her arms, gathering my composure.

“I don’t know where we stand right now,” I bit my lip, shaking my head in sorrow, “JJ, just...just be there for him. Be there for him because I love him.”

An agonizing week had passed in the BAU. Emily was reinstated after the team’s hearing at court, the unit dynamic languidly surfaced again, and it seemed like everything was back to normal.

Everything but Spencer.

It’s been eight days and seven nights since he’s slept at our apartment. JJ was generous enough to let him crash with her and Will, which I was appreciative to know that he was at least safe. JJ would give me updates during his stay, reassuring me to have faith and be patient with him. But each night that I spent in a distant bed, every dinner I sat through with an empty bowl opposite from me, and every eerie silence that would suffocate me when arriving home thinned out my perseverance.

Every time that I would reminisce on the warmth of his touch, it tore the remaining strands of my heart. The snarky remarks and malicious glares at work didn’t ease my state of mind either. I was on a cliff again, but this time I was alone.

We were on the jet, working a missing child’s case in New York City. Most of the team surrounded Hotch as he briefed them on the case while I notably sat at the front to evade the disagreeable tension. From time to time, JJ would text me, asking if I were okay. I found the gesture sweet the first few times, but it soon became a remembrance of my reality.

“I need everyone to split into teams,” Hotch announced, making sure that I had heard his statement. “The M.E. will be ready in a few hours, so Dave and Morgan, I need you to go to the morgue. Emily and JJ, I need you to interview a suspect back at the station. Y/N and Spencer, I need both of you to interview the second victim’s family,” Hotch delivered resolutely. However before he could finish, Spencer already had his disputes.

“Hotch, don’t you think I would be more useful in building the geographic profile?” Spencer interjected.

“Reid, I can’t send Y/N alone,” Hotch reinforced.

“Well it seems to me that she’s capable of making big enough decisions, so I think she’ll be fine,” Spencer jeered. “Matter of fact, why don’t we let her interview the suspect instead, since she’s so good at-”

“Reid,” Hotch warned him, sending him a disarming look.

Spencer scoffed, sinking back into his seat, pulling his book up to his face. JJ sent me another text, expressing her condolences about Spencer’s performance, while I sulked in the coldness of my arms.

That’s all Spencer did that week. He pulled away.

One. Two. Three rocks surpassed my pacing feet on the sidewalk.

It was the only thing I could force myself to focus on, considering the asphyxiating rigidness between me and Spencer. I was quiet as a mouse with every inhale I took, feeling that even the slightest disturbance would rattle the seemingly innocuous silence. However, despite the invisible barrier between us, Spencer began uttering details about the unsub’s profile.

“I’m thinking that our unsub might be a woman,” Spencer proposed, looking straight ahead of him.

In an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, I entertained his suspects, “Why do you think so,” I inquired. My breath hitched towards the end of the sentence, sending a small jolt of nerves through my chest.

“Well,” Spencer began, “We can see from the unsub’s methodology that they still nurture the victim--a mother’s instinct--before death. The choice of disposal also indicates cleanliness which we profiled before as a women’s attribute.”

Four. Five. Six rocks.

“That’s true, Spence, but the level of cleanliness doesn’t match the M.O, and the profile points towards a male offender. If it were a female, then that would be one hell of a job to throw off the authorities,” I counteracted, feeling safer in the exchange we shared.

“It could be possible,” Spencer shrugged. “Statistically, women are presumptively better liars than men. They do one hell of a job being deceitful,” He quipped.

Seven. Eig-

My movements stilled at the unforeseen comment, while the same pang in my chest reappeared from before. Despite the wave of self-reproach invading my thoughts, I swallowed my feelings and maintained my professionalism.

“How far is the house from here?” I deadpanned, evading the touchy subject.

“Why don’t you check the coordinates that Hotch sent us. You seem to have a closer relationship to hi-”

“Can you stop?” I exclaimed, stepping out in front of him.

“Stop what?” He scoffed, refusing to acknowledge my irritation by feigning innocence. He proceeded to project his attention towards the side garden that decorated the sidewalk, observing the various flowers that littered the grounds.

“This,” I gestured to both of us. “This, this thing that you’re doing. Wh-what are we doing, Spence?”

“You’re acting like you’re not at fault here,” Spencer implicated with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s similar to this unsub’s psyche.”

“That’s not what I meant, Spence.”

“The unsub also didn’t mean to kill the first child so you might have that probability.” He paced off a distance away, leaving me at my lonesome.

“Spencer, can we talk-”

“What if the unsub used a lure to get to the first victim,” Spencer eluded the topic. “Possibly candy or a tactic using the transference of parental authority. Either one would disarm the child.”

I shook my head, playing his little game. “Candy is quite the killer,” I added on, supplementing his theory.

“So are tears,” He quipped. “Hopefully the family can tell us more.”

With that, he ran off once again.

In a matter of a week, the unsub had struck again. Unfortunately for the team, our leads had been disproven, and our patience had worn thin. Chagrin had traveled throughout the team rendering us all exhausted. With the additional stress on our shoulders, Spencer’s remarks had intensified and painted a target on my back. Solving this case was the only motivation I had to endure the onslaught of his petty slander; however, my persistence was at the end of its line.

“Spencer, can you pass me a copy of the geographical profile?” I mumbled, running my fingers over my eyelids to wake myself up. I leaned on my elbows, feeling the heat of stress warm up my face. I glanced at Spencer’s movements from my peripheral vision, although my sight proved to be unreliable as Spencer’s face resembled an expression of--what I thought was--worry for a split moment.

Without a reply, Spencer handed me a marker. I looked at Spencer bewildered, glancing between him and the marker that lay in my hand. “What is this?” I deadpanned.

“A marker.”

I bit the inside of my cheek in restraint, retracting my tongue from spitting maliciously. “Yes, I know, Spencer. What is the marker for?” I fumed through my teeth.

“To write with,” Spencer replied shortly, focusing on the file he was analyzing on his lap. I shook my head, rising from my seat to walk over to the whiteboard that Spencer assembled the geographical profile on. I tossed the marker behind me, ridding myself of the negative energy bestowed on the writing utensil.

Before I could set my focus on the board, Spencer pulled me from my concentration with another one of his random probes. “Why aren’t you using the marker?”

“What do you mean?” I sighed, sensing ridicule.

“You’re modifying the profile at one of the points right?”

He looked up from his files, making eye contact with me for the first time in weeks. By reflex, I shifted my gaze away from him, guilt making itself ubiquitous in my conscience. “I’m analyzing one of the points of the profile,” I uttered. “I think our initial impression about the unsub’s disposal area is inexact.

“Is that how you and Hotch figured out Emily’s burial site?”

An ember began swirling inside of my veins, traveling to each corner of my body. I bit my tongue once again, suppressing the build-up of indignation coursing through me. “The location of disposal doesn’t make sense. It’s not even in the area that we triangulated,” I challenged.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, could it be possible for the unsub to transport the victims to different disposal sites?”

“Like how Emily was transferred from Boston to Bethesda?” Spencer mentioned. “Then yes, the probability of that transpiring is notable” he mocked.

The suppressed spark inside of me aggregated, overpowering the last bit of patience I harbored. The ropes tethering the frayed strands of my rationality snapped, leaving my impulses to burst through the seams. Even my best attempts at subduing myself rendered useless to Spencer’s incessant commentaries. I was done.

“You’re relentless aren’t you?” I jeered, spinning around to face him. Fire laced my veins, and the childish sneer on his face only kindled my resentment.

“Relentless on figuring out this case.” Spencer brushed my comment aside, diverting his attention to the papers on his lap.

In the momentum of my impulsivity, I seized the files away from him, forcing him to acknowledge the issue at hand. “Spencer, you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine,” I threw up my hands in the air in exasperation, catching a few lingering eyes of the team.

“I don’t have to deal with this right now,” Spencer professed, rising from his seat to walk away. But before he had the opportunity to reach the exit, I grabbed onto his wrist, halting him.

“Then, when?” I taunted. “When are you going to deal with this?”

By now, we had attracted an audience.

“Certainly not with you,” he snickered mockingly.

“Reid!” I snapped, my voice rising in volume and fierceness. “You can’t keep running away from your problems.”

“Are you serious right now, Y/N?” he vocalized incredulously, glaring at me with bitter hostility. “You’re just bothered that you did something that hurt me--th-that hurt all of us, and I sought comfort in someone I could trust.”

“I don’t care that you went to JJ fo-”

“God Y/N! Yo-you didn’t even have the decency to tell me--YOUR boyfriend--that this happened.”

“Reid, that’s not fai-”

“Oh really? That’s not fair?” Spencer seethed, disdain bound to his words. “You know what’s not fair Y/N? I spent nights--NIGHTS--crying on JJ’s couch from the loss of a friend, only to find out that they’re alive,” he gestured to Emily sitting idly by the team, watching the scene between me and Spencer unfold. “What I especially loved was coming back to the same couch because of my own girlfriend’s deception.”

At this point, JJ attempted to step forward to intervene, but I waved her off. “I. Had. No. Choice,” I defended, practically speaking through clenched teeth.

“You know what?” Spencer scoffed, shaking his head. “Gosh, JJ has put in more effort into being my girlfriend than you ever did.”

I was suspended in place as the words rang out in my head. A shiver crept up my arms and sent harrowing shockwaves that pierced my chest. Simultaneously, a stinging sensation engulfed my esophagus in flames, stunting my ability to form sentences. “Spencer, you...you don’t m-mean that,” I swallowed my voice, mumbling a question rather than a firm statement.

I felt myself on the cliff again, but this time the rocks were slowly crumbling underneath my feet while burning tar glued my feet to the ground.

“You practically pushed me into her arms. When you were out there lying to ALL of us, she was the only one that stayed with me.”

“Spence…” JJ called out from behind me, attempting to diffuse the situation. Although, Spencer was far deluded by his discourse that nothing obstructed him.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer assured, inching closer to me. With a repugnant sneer on his lips, his eyes squinted into a loathing glare, and his countenance aflame, he gave me what I couldn’t give to him: his truth.

A truth that I didn’t want to unfurl.

“You know I don’t even know why you’re constantly reminding me that I can’t accept my mistakes or problems...” he bickered, a deliberate sneer etched into his features, “...because it was pretty damn easy to accept that YOU are my biggest mistake.”

I thought the rocks would crumble from beneath me, and I’d fall. I thought choosing to stand on that cliff alone, to bear the weight for someone I loved, was noble, even if it meant ending up in the abyss below.

But I didn’t fall. I was pushed.

Pushed by the very person I stood on that cliff for.

part 2

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101

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dilfgmancoolatta · 3 years

Note

can yuo write angsty freelatta........-benryphobic

@benryphobic

Gordon looks down at the half-eaten pizza, his appetite almost completely gone. He was initially suspicious of it- as much as he trusted Tommy, he had no idea what Mr. Coolatta’s intentions were. But after seeing everyone else dig in (well, everyone who had made it out of the boss battle alive), he let himself give in. It was horrible, but horrible in the way that most Chuck E. Cheese pizza generally is. Mr. Coolatta pulled out all the stops for this one, huh?

He sighs, gently nudging his paper plate away. He’s not really sure what to do. He doubts Mr. Coolatta would react well to being asked when they could leave- he seems really protective of his son.

Gordon decides to get some fresh air. Quietly pushing in his chair, he sneaks away from the group, Mr. Coolatta and Bubby seemingly distracting by a story Dr. Coomer was telling from the Engineering department.

He breathes a sigh of relief once the door closes behind him. He looks up at the sky as he slides down the wall. It’s strikingly beautiful, yet chilling. It’s a sky Gordon’s never seen before, with a large spiral galaxy, that definitely wasn’t the Milky Way, taking up much of it. Planets upon planets and stars upon stars that Gordon couldn’t recognize.

“That’s Andromeda o- up there, by the way.”

Gordon jolts, feeling his heart rate spike, before laughing. “Tommy, don’t scare me like that, man. Kinda still on edge.”

“Oh-” Tommy covers his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman, I thought you knew I was out here.”

Gordon waves him off. “It’s not a big deal. Just- Thought I should let you know.” Tommy nods. “Andromeda’s a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Mmhm! I told my dad once that Andromeda w- is my favorite galaxy. And after that, he always made sure Andromeda was the biggest thing in the night sky in his pocket dimensions.”

“That’s… honestly pretty sweet.”

Tommy nods, sitting down next to Gordon. “My Dad’s a good guy, even if he is pretty weird sometimes. Though I guess I can’t talk.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, Tommy.”

Tommy looks at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Freeman, I wouldn’t be so sure-”

“Listen, we’ve got a lab grown human, a man who’s been cloned, like, 1000 times, and then there’s you. I don’t think the identity of your dad makes you weird.”

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, but seemingly decides against it. Instead, he decides on a simple “Thank you.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments, staring up into the night sky.

“Did something happen at the party?” Tommy asks. “I hope my dad wasn’t being weird about the Chuck E. Cheese debate-thing.”

Gordon shakes his head. “No, I just needed some fresh air. Gordon sensory overload time was coming up, I could feel it. Wasn’t that hungry either.”

Tommy nods. “I understand. That… happens to me too. The only reason I could handle the arcade inside is because my dad makes the machines quieter-” He frowns and scrunches his nose. “But you don’t want to hear about all that.” He waves him off.

And there it is.

It’s a pattern Gordon’s noticed throughout their time in Black Mesa. Every time Tommy seemed like he was about to express any negative emotion, he’d change the subject and say something about Gordon not wanting to hear it.

So he takes a chance.

“But what if I do want to hear it?”

That wasn’t the answer Tommy seemed to be expecting.

“I mean- there’s not much more to it. It’s just me not e- liking loud noises. Nothing all that interesting.”

“It’s not about it being interesting, Tommy. You don’t have to dismiss your own feelings.” Tommy looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an unsure look. “You’ve been, like, my emotional rock throughout Black Mesa. You’ve gotta let me return the favor.”

“I d- really don’t want you to think any less of me.”

“Why would I?”

Tommy looks away from Gordon. “I’ve learned from experience, Mr. Freeman. There isn’t r- any way for someone like me to be upset without being treated like a child throwing a tantrum. And then they talk about you like you’re not even in the room-”

Oh.

Unfortunately, the experience is all-too-familiar to Gordon.

“I’ve gotten the same shit- it’s awful.”

“You... have? I never thought that of you- I mean, anyone in your situation might- would be a little on edge.”

“I mean, even before the Black Mesa incident. People would either use kiddie gloves around me or flat out tell me I was overreacting whenever I was slightly upset. So I do somewhat get it, and you don’t need to expect anything like that from me.”

Tommy nods, a small smile beginning to form. It’s a very nice smile- No, Gordon, now is not the time for gay thoughts.

“And I know I shouldn’t have let them win, and I really did try to not give in, but it just got so ti- exhausting going to work everyday with people who saw you as an overgrown child.” Tommy brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on them.

“I mean, I don’t think you ‘should’ have done anything in that situation.” Gordon shrugs. “I don’t think making a statement is worth more than making things bearable for you. It’s not your job to ‘show them who’s boss’.”

“Mm,” Tommy hums, taking his right arm off of his legs and putting it in between them. “It just doesn’t sit right with me that I ba- essentially taught them that that behavior works.”

Gordon gives his hand a comforting squeeze. “You didn’t teach them anything. They were shitty people to begin with, and even if you refused to ‘give in’, I doubt they would’ve changed their minds. You just would’ve been even more miserable.” He feels Tommy shift his hand so their fingers are intertwined. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush- “If you don’t mind me asking, couldn’t you have told your dad about it? He doesn’t seem like the type to let that slide.”

Tommy shakes his head. “He’s not, but…” he trails off. “Listen, my dads a go- great guy. If I had told him about how I was being treated at work he probably would’ve… either got them fired, at the very least, or have locked them in a void for who knows how long to ‘teach them a lesson’.” Gordon can’t tell if that’s a joke or not- from what little he knows about Mr. Coolatta, it probably isn’t. “But I’m a 37 year old man. My dad wants to protect me from the world, and I don’t really blame him for that, but I need to fight my own battles. I’m not going to be the kind of person that calls their dad at the first sign of danger.”

Gordon nods, brushing his thumb across Tommy’s hand. He understands where Tommy’s coming from. As a father himself, it’s been very hard to ignore his immediate impulse to protect Joshua from anything that could potentially harm him. He can’t imagine what it’ll be like a few years from now when there are dangers Gordon couldn’t protect Josh from even if he did try. “I can’t blame you for that. But I hope that line of logic hasn’t lead to you refusing to ask anyone else for help.”

“Well…”

“Tommy.”

“I’m gonna start trying to change that behavior, I swear!” Tommy laughs, doing an ‘x’ sign over his heart.

“Besides, considering the whole Resonance Cascade thing, I doubt your shitty ex-coworkers will be able to be shitty to anyone else.”

Tommy laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right about that, Mr. Freeman-”

“You can call me Gordon, you know.”

“I- Are you sure?”

“I think, after everything we’ve been through together, we’re well past the awkward coworkers stage of friendship.”

“I mean, if you’re sure about that… Gordon.” Never before had hearing his name filled him with more joy. “But… I don’t know. It’s st- silly, but I still feel bad that they died? Even though they were awful to me.”

Gordon shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, man. Feelings are really fucking complicated- Not to mention you’re probably not mourning them specifically, just the fact that people died. You’ve got a big heart, there’s nothing silly or stupid about it.”

“You do too, M- Gordon. You’re a very kind person.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, both of them red as a beet.

“I think…” Gordon gulps, hoping how flustered he is isn’t that obvious. “I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

Tommy nods, standing up and pulling Gordon up with him. They both turn their heads to look inside the Chuck E. Cheese, seeing Mr. Coolatta somehow playing a perfect game of Skee-ball while Dr. Coomer and Bubby cheer on. Gordon looks at their hands, still intertwined, then back up to Tommy.

“C’mon, before the pizza gets cold.” Gordon opens the door with his shoulder, grinning at Tommy.

Tommy follows him in, and the Birthday Party At The End of the World continues on.

#freelatta #gordon freeman #hlvrai #tommy coolatta #nhlvrai #gordos feetman #halflife vr but the ai is self aware #I TRIED TO MAKE THIS ANGSTY BUT IT ENDED UP BEING VENTY SORRY

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monodipita · 3 years

Text

dangerous (Yandere!Killua x Reader)

Word count: 2,161

Warnings: Yandere content warning, slight abuse warning, blood warning

The night descended upon you, the air reeked of blood and decay. You weren't even close to the door yet you were afraid to go anywhere near it, but you knew who was inside. He was there, waiting for you, even though you were scared of what was going to be inside the room, you were wise not to ignore his demands for your attention. Killua could be quite the monster sometimes, but never did you think that he would go this far. You were nauseous just thinking about it, and the noxious fumes in the air added on to nausea, but you were still holding yourself together through the pain.

What was on the other side of this door? Who would you see lying on the ground, surrounded by their blood, captured by the embrace of death?

Your hand slowly moved to the door handle. It turned effortlessly and smoothly to your chagrin. Watching the door creep open, it unveiled a new world before you. You had little time to react as your face was blasted with the acrid smell of death, causing you to double over and nearly vomit on the spot. It took everything within you to fight your reflexes, nearly becoming lightheaded from your efforts, but you were able to recover.

"Do you think I'm afraid of hurting you [Y/N]? Do you think that because I am so nice to you that you can walk free, that you can talk to whoever you want, whenever you want when I'm not looking? You took me for granted. I don't appreciate that." Killua. His voice sent chills down your spine. “No,“ you answer him in a quiet voice, “Killua, I wasn’t trying to do anything with them. I only spoke to them for up to a few minutes at a time. I didn't have anything to do with these people!“ It was a sobering thought.

”I just told you why I killed them [Y/N]. I'm not fond of repeating myself.“ Killua stood from his chair. You could see him in the dim light that was provided by the room now that he was closer to you. You could see the veins bulging in his hands, his nails were sharp as you had seen them be before in previous encounters. Blood splatter covered his body from head-to-toe. You find yourself slowly backing away from him, but you knew your lover well, there wasn't any fighting him, there wasn't any escaping him. "Killua," you called his name quietly, your mind surging and trying its best to come up with an excuse that would get you out of this hot mess. You didn't want to die, but you knew he was going to kill you. You didn't want to die because of something you'd thought was only a minor inconvenience. "Please, I..."

"What are you going to say," he was in front of you, his beady blue eyes stared down at your face. ""Don't kill me?" Of course, I wouldn't kill you, [Y/N]. I love you far too much to kill you, don't be ridiculous." He pulled you into an embrace and squeezed you in his arms tightly, his hands stroking down your back and reaching back up to your shoulders. You were hesitant to hug him back but slowly brought yourself to wrap your arms around him. . . feeling the two of you lock together in the embrace, your eyes closing as you brought yourself to lean into him with your head pressing on his shoulder. "Of course, I love you," he whispered.

The air was still and quiet, neither of you spoke to each other and instead held this awkward silence. You knew better than to move away from Killua, you knew better than to fight him when he was so much stronger than you, so you accepted your fate, resting against him like this. It was actually kind of nice after a while, it made you feel like he still loved you.

That was until you could feel his sharp nails burrowing themselves into your back.

"Ah!" You cried out. Your body began to squirm underneath his embrace that only got tighter the more you struggled against him. "Stop STOP! It hurts, Killua, PLEASE!!" You shrieked.

"This hurts, hmm? Am I hurting you [Y/N]? Does it hurt as much as you hurt me?"

Your screaming turned into wailing and sobbing, your body that had been consistently put to the test since you met Gon and Killua at the hunter exam became partially numbed to the excruciating feeling of his nails piercing and digging into your skin. Thankfully he didn't seem to be pushing his fingers any deeper into your body. "N-no, Killua, it doesn't," you sobbed, "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"You're sorry?" Killua's hands ceased their assault on your body. He pulled his fingers out of your skin. The numb feeling that took over that area of your body ceased to exist at the moment, and the pain began to flood you from head-to-toe. Your own hands gripped at the shirt Killua wore to somehow relieve the agonizing pain you felt through putting pressure into your fingers. Your body began to shake, but you kept yourself up as best as you could. "yes," you breathed, "I'm so sorry that I hurt you Killua, I won't ever do it again!"

Silence fell.

Killua pulled himself away, his hands holding yours tightly as he looked down at you. "Good," he smirked, "I'll trust you, but just to make sure I'll handle it on my own." He said calmly. He gripped your hand crushingly tight. It was better than the pain you felt in your back, that was for damn sure though. You were dragged effortlessly out of the building that the two of you were in.

On the way out, he ripped off the note on the outside that lured you inside. He balled it up and tossed it aside. Your teeth clenched and grit themselves together while the two of you walked back to your apartment, the pain you were feeling was unbearable, but you knew better than to talk to Killua right now. The sounds made on the trek back would be the sounds of you whimpering and your footsteps colliding with the cement of the sidewalk. The two of you didn't pass by very many people on the way, so there was no one to stop and ask you what was wrong - perhaps that was for the best. You held your silence as the two of you stepped inside the apartment building, your eyes warily looking over to the elevator as he dragged you over to it.

You were scared, scared that he was going to do something horrible inside the apartment once the two of you were in it. As you entered the elevator your body nearly collapsed against his, your body sinking to the floor before Killua's. His hands went to your shoulders as he stared down at you, a shadow cast over his face to prevent you from studying any bright details, as well as rendering his expression unreadable.

"I think I like you in this position." He smirked.

You shook your head, "no, KIllua... please, my back... we need to go to the hospital..." you were tired of behaving like it wasn't an issue. The pain was still there even after ten minutes of putting up with it. "No we don't!" he rolled his eyes as he pulled you up. "I'll take care of you, don't worry about it. Only I should be the one to touch you anyway."

The elevator conveniently came to a stop for him so that he could lug you out of it and drag you to your apartment door. You could feel your body be dragged against his, your legs touching the floor, your injured back coming dangerously close to touching the floor, but your body was too weak to fight against his, you could only cry out at the feeling. "KIllua, please, it hurts!" You whimper, "let me get up!"

"I'll pass~!" the white-haired boy spoke casually as he grabbed the key from your apartment from his pocket. You took this moment to try and lift yourself, but you were only met with the feeling of pain, as his hand tangled with your hair to force you back down onto the ground.

The door opened. Killua dropped your hold on his body and stepped inside.

This... this was the chance, the only chance you would have to run if you were going to run. You were injured and on the brink of passing out, but an attempt of running and hiding sounded better than submitting to whatever would happen inside that room. Your body slowly brought itself to stand with the help of the columns of the doorway. Right as you were able to fully stand, KIllua glanced back at you for a moment. "Go lay on the bed," he ordered you, "I'm gonna go get the first-aid. 'kay?"

You said nothing as he disappeared around the corner. Your body instinctively turned to jet away from the scene as fast as your injured body could take you, finding yourself facing out into the hallway. What am I running for? You had no answer for yourself but anything was better right now then being at the behest of Killua, even if you still loved him you knew that there wasn't any turning back from this point on. ...at least not for you.

Your body tip-toed itself away from the doorway to your apartment and out into the hallway. You began to make your break for it, but you were stopped mid-way.

"Did you seriously think that this was going to work on me of all people?" He asked you, his hand wrenching your shoulder tightly within his grip. "After being made aware of everything that I'm capable of, me, Killua Zoldyck?" There were no words to express the genuine amount of surprise the white-haired boy felt. He was wordless as he pulled you back inside the apartment, this time closing the door behind him and securing you inside with him. You were powerless to fight against him.

"Now, let's go take care of those wounds of yours, shall we?"

He brought you further inside the apartment to your bedroom, where you were originally supposed to be in the first place.

There were chains on the bed. You could see them very well—they stuck out like a sore thumb because they were black against the gray sheets of your bed. "Ki-killua, what is this??" You ask him worriedly, but he pays you no mind as he pushes you onto the bed.

You aren't given time to react. He's already putting the ensemble together on your body. First your ankles, then your arms, and finally your neck are all bound by the same black metal. You wince in confusion, your eyes going up to him. "W-what is the meaning of this?! What are you doing to me?!"

"Seeing as I can't let you wander out without talking to people like only you know how to, I figured I'd take the necessary steps to ensure that you can't run away ever again." He spoke in such a cheerful voice. You were unnerved by it. "You can't do this to me... it's not right," You tried to reason with him, "I don't want to be stuck like this forever!"

"Oh, but I can do this to you, and you can be stuck like this forever! I have the power to facilitate it." He grinned. "Don't worry [Y/N], I won't let it be too lonely in here. I'll make sure to stay with you as much as I can! Like, I'll feed you, I'll bathe you, all that stuff. Like a pet. Only if you're good, though." You looked on in horror while he continued speaking. He seemed to forget what he needed to do at the moment. "Right, I almost forgot! I need to patch up that wound of yours. Hold on, I'm coming back!" So cheerful, so disturbing, you hated every second of it. You watched as he disappeared.

You took this time to look down at the predicament you were placed in. You were surrounded by familiar things, but you were in something unfamiliar: these chains, that you were supposed to be in forever. It was a horrifying thought, being bound to this one spot forever with someone as chaotic as Killua being the one to look over you... he would've been more than willing to have you killed on the spot, you were almost certain of that.

When Killua came back, he was holding a small first-aid kit in his hand, but more importantly, he was holding a large container of rubbing alcohol in his other hand—you already knew where this was going. You swallowed thickly as he came closer.

#killua hxh #killua x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #yandere #hunter x hunter #gender neutral insert #reader insert

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