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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

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onlyfans #1 [ransom drysdale]

A/n: I’ve had this idea for a LONG time, and yesterday it wasn’t showing up in the tags, so I’m trying again today! This is part of a future pseudo-series, because I adore this concept. Also, prepare for cameos!!

Summary: So Ransom lost his inheritance. I hope the title doesn’t spoil his plan to make a living (SMUT) 3.4k

Warnings: spanking, daddy kink, size kink, dirty talk, domestic submission, name calling, degradation, dub con (just in case), slight spit play, breath play, taking/selling nudes (lowkey non con here lol) Ransom is a bit of an ass.

absolutely DO NOT READ if any of the warnings mentioned above make you uncomfortable, or if you are under 18!! That being said, enjoy!!!

"Ransom!" you yelled, rummaging through the shopping bag he just left on the counter in the kitchen. "We can't afford-" you scoffed, turning a bottle of wine over in your hands. Feeling yourself fume with anger that was threatening to burst out of you at any time, you placed it back on the counter, and started looking for him around the house, "Ransom, where the fuck are you?"

"Will you stop yelling!?" you heard him groan through the wall.

Rolling your eyes and with genuine rage surging through you, you slammed the door open, so hard it hit the wall behind it. "The fuck is wrong with you? You know we're already fucking tight with money, yet you had to go and buy a $200 bottle of wine!?"

Only after the words left your mouth, did you realize what he was doing. When your eyes landed on his computer screen and you saw him playing Spider Solitaire, you felt like you were actually going to fucking hit him.

"It was the cheapest I could find" he joked, without even bothering to turn around and face you.

"I'm serious right now" you sighed, walking over and snatching his hand from the mouse, "Look at me"

And he did. He turned to look at you, with a roll of his eyes and a displeased grin on his lips, "We're doing fine, you have a good job, what the fuck do you want from me?"

"Only the president could fucking keep up with you, Ransom, I can't afford that kind of crap. If you keep that shit up, we'll both end up on the streets!"

"Don't be so dramatic, doll" he chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down your outer thigh. Grabbing a handful of your ass, he pulled you closer, "Stop worrying, we'll figure something out"

"We'd better. Because soon-"

"We will" he stopped you, grabbing even harder. His fingers sunk into your flesh, and your whole attitude changed in an instant, as you went mellow under his touch.

"Ok, then" you sighed, determined to find another way to go about this.

"Kiss me" Ransom smiled, and you obliged in an instant. He went in open mouthed, his tongue finding yours in an instant. You gave in completely, submitting to him like you always do. The way he bit into your lower lip, a tad harder than you would have considered pleasurable, made you moan softly against his lips.

"You adore me, I know" he smiled, pulling away from you. Ransom nodded towards the door, "Now go make us something to eat" he said, and then turned back to his computer, "I was busy with something"

"Busy" you mocked him, walking out of the room.

The next few hours of the day went by as usual. Ransom was hard around the edges, a difficult man to please - and god knows you had to constantly please him in order for him to accept you. But you got the hang of it, it became your routine, and you didn't mind it one bit. After having lunch, he went out to meet with a friend, while you stayed inside, making yourself busy.

When you two started getting more comfortable with one another, every now and then Ransom would insist on choosing what you wore while you were home alone with him. You loved this kink of his - he was doing it to himself, having you dress up all hot and skimpy only to have his dick get hard about 20 minutes later - it was a win-win situation. So now, still in one of the outfits he had chosen for you, and with your makeup perfectly done, you sat on the living room couch, finishing up your nails. A show about some mysterious crime that took place over 20 years ago was playing in the background, when Ransom entered the room.

"How's my favorite girl doing?" he beamed, walking over to you, blocking your view of the TV.

"She's fine" you smiled, actually surprised with how cheery he was being.

"You love me, right?"

"Of course, baby" you giggled, "So much"

"Good" Ransom said, his smile fading. "Put this on-" he added, throwing a small red paper bag into your lap, "And then come into the bedroom"

"Are you only ever nice to me when you want something?" you sighed, watching him as he walked out of the room.

"Don't be ridiculous" he laughed, "If I had to be nice every time I wanted something from you, I'd combust"

For a second, you remained dumbfounded. 'He's an asshole, but he's your asshole and you love him' you told yourself, before gathering the courage to open the bag and peak inside. Black lace. Your mouth fell open as you pulled the lingerie out - there was so little material you barely even realized how it was supposed to go. And those little patches of material? Almost completely transparent. You felt a little bit of anxiety curse though your body, but put on in nonetheless. Feeling entirely naked, you put the robe back on over the lingerie, and headed to the bedroom.

In an instant, you spotted Ransom sitting at his desk, scrolling through his phone. Once he noticed you, he pointed to the bed.

"Take that off and lay down"

Halfheartedly, you listened to him, and then padded over to the bed, wondering what you did wrong. You sat down and leaned back, watching him march up to you.

"Not like this" he said, effortlessly spinning you around to lay on your stomach. "Ass up"

Swallowing thickly, you arched your back and perched your ass up. "What's going on?" you questioned, already getting wet under his hungry stare.

"Shut up, baby" he whispered, groping your thighs and hips. "Stay like this, ok?"

You weren't going to object, but when you felt him distance himself from the bed and walk across the room, your curiosity got the best of you, "Why?"

"Told you something, pet" he threatened, "Keep that sweet little mouth of yours shut. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yeah, ok" you whined.

The anticipation was killing you. The tension between your legs was getting more and more difficult to ignore, and rubbing your thighs together proved futile. A powerful wave of eagerness washed over you when you heard Ransom walk over. You didn't even get to wonder what he was doing, before he slapped your ass hard. You gasped in surprise, but you didn't get a chance to react before he went again. Slap after slap, each growing in intensity against your sensitive skin.

The only thing that interrupted your whines were a few soft moans, as you kicked your legs and squirmed under him, "Fuck-"

"Does it hurt?" Ransom asked, spanking your ass one more time.

"Yes" you cried.

"Good, baby" he hummed, rubbing your inflamed skin. He wasn't as gentle as you wished, his touch burning all the way down to your bones.

You tried to wiggle away, but he was quick to stop you, "Daddy's not finished with you yet. It has to hurt, ok? You need to be Daddy's good little slut and take it"

"I am" you nodded.

"What are you?" he asked, his smile audible in his tone.

"Daddy's good little slut" you repeated, your own words making the pain between your legs skyrocket.

"That's right, pet. That's why you're gonna take all that Daddy has to give you, even if it hurts, yeah? Daddy always knows better than you" Ransom said.

You nodded again, bracing yourself for the impact. But it didn't come. Instead you felt him play with your ass, working strong, marron bruises into your skin. As you started to relax and get used to the feeling, he grabbed your underwear and pulled it down your thighs, leaving you completely exposed to him. "You love this, don't you, doll?"

"I do" you squealed, fisting the cotton bed sheets into your palms.

"Such a wet cunt for me" he said, tracing your opening with his pointer finger, "Practically begging for my cock, always fucking ready to be ruined"

You whined, the pressure he was applying only managing to drive you even crazier. "Please-"

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me"

"No, baby" Ransom chuckled, rubbing his hand over the curve of your ass, "Not tonight"

"But Daddy-" you began to protest, but your words were cut short by another spank, this one hitting differently.

With your skin already on fire, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to tears with every slap delivered. Unconsciously, you started to pull away from him, but that didn't stop him in any way. Ransom kept going until he felt you'd had enough, only then stopping. "Good girl" he spoke, leaning down to kiss the skin he had just abused, "You take it so well, baby. You're a gem"

"Thank you, daddy" you moaned, shuffling around the bed. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, but he stopped you again.

"On your knees, baby, c'mon" he commanded, pointing to the fluffy red carpet next to the bed. "Daddy deserves to have his cock sucked, doll, so get to it"

Without even thinking twice, you jumped off the bed and sunk to your knees, hands on his thighs as you looked up at him.

"Always so hungry for my cock" he shook his head, lacing his fingers through your hair, "I'm gonna record you, angel, but don't freak out. Just suck my dick like you do everyday, yeah?"

"Ok"

"And take that bra off, I wanna see your tits"

You obliged in an instant, heart beating out of your chest. When he pulled out his phone and pointed the camera down at your face, you gulped, but then nodded eagerly, big doe eyes trained up at him. Ransom didn't wait any longer before he shuffled out of his jeans, his massive, already hard cock springing out.

Although slightly anxious about having a phone pointed at you, you fought to not let it bother you. Rubbing your hands up and down his length a few times, you looked up at him, licking your lips.

"Open that whore mouth for me, yeah?" Ransom commanded.

As soon as you followed his order, he bent down, spitting on your tongue. With your eyes locked onto the camera, you swallowed and then opened your mouth again.

"Want more, huh?" he laughed, playing with your hair.

"Yes, please!"

"How about you throat my cock first, and then we'll see if you deserve it?"

Without even giving him any kind of approval, you went in, bringing the tip of his cock into your mouth. You sucked wholeheartedly, hollowing your cheeks around his massive member. Bopping your head up and down, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of his tip against your tongue. When you felt yourself prepared enough, you pushed yourself further along his cock, allowing it to brush past the back of your throat. Your gag reflex instantly kicked in, but you fought it, remaining in place.

"That's right, angel-" Ransom grunted, gripping the roots at the top of your head into his hand.

Feeling your oxygen supply run low, you wanted to pull away, but he wasn't having it. He easily controlled your movements, pushing his cock even further down your throat.

"Angel-" he panted, as you struggled against his hold, "You were made to be face fucked"

You had your arms wrapped around his strong thighs, your manicured nails sinking into his skin, hoping you'd get his attention. It didn't work.

By the time he let you go, you had tears running down your cheeks, your mascara almost reaching your chin. You fell backwards, desperate for a breath of air.

"You look better with your makeup like this, love" Ransome laughed, wiping your tears with the back of his fingers, "Suits you"

After regaining your composure, you pushed yourself back up, getting ready to resume your work. However, Ransom had other ideas as he grabbed his member, slowly pumping it in his own hand.

"Tongue out, slut" he said.

You listened to him, and felt a rush of ecstasy course through you when he slapped his cock against your tongue and then your cheeks. His tip was already leaking precum, and you swallowed obediently every drop that landed inside your mouth.

"You want it back?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes"

"Balls first, baby"

Bracing yourself against his thighs, you leaned forward, connecting your lips to the soft skin of his balls. You sucked deeply, applying the kind of pressure you knew would drive him crazy. "Fuck, fuck, yes, come on-" he grunted, bucking his hips into you.

You were nowhere near done when he grabbed your hair again and manhandled you to take his cock down your throat. Your frame fell limply under his hold, as you forced yourself to relax and obey him for as long as you could.

"That’s right-" he moaned, "don't fight it. You know that's my favorite thing about you? The way you worship my dick, you fucking slut"

As he spoke, he forced you deeper down his cock. No matter how hard you tried to resist, you couldn't help but start to squirm around, trying to push him away.

"Don't be a fucking bitch, Y/n" Ransom huffed, keeping you in place, as your throat muscles constricted around his tip, "Just fucking take it"

With a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face, you slapped his thighs frantically, until he finally allowed you to breathe again.

"I'm so fucking close, baby" he grinned, as you panted your lungs away. "Look up at me, I wanna see those that dumb look in your eyes whenever you take my cock"

Mouth agape as you still worked on regulating your breathing, you looked up, right into the camera. "That's it! Yeah, that's my slut, I can see it in your eyes, baby"

If it were up to you, you would have waited more. But Ransom was having none of that. Instead, he grabbed your hair again, this time controlling your movements completely. He forced your mouth along his cock, bopping your head up and down until his hips started shaking and he couldn't take it anymore. Proud with yourself for getting through this without panicking, you leaned back and opened your mouth.

Ransom's grunts and pleasure filled moans filled the room, as his cum started shooting out of his cock. Little droplets ended up inside your mouth and on your lips, and maybe intentionally or by mistake, he shot a few pumps on your cheeks and in your hair. But you remained there, motionless, waiting for his next move.

With the phone still pointed at you, Random used his thumb to gather all the cum you had missed, before shoving his finger into your mouth.

"Always eager to suck on something, aren't you?"

You proudly nodded.

After that he threw his phone on the bed, and helped you up. He instantly went in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around your body to play with your ass while his tongue dominated yours. He owned you completely.

"Go run a bath, baby" Ransom said, slapping your ass, "I'll be right there"

"But.." you hesitated, "What about me?"

"What about you?" he asked, cluelessly.

"I didn't finish…"

"It's early, love" he smiled, kissing your forehead, "Let's take a bath now, and then daddy will take really good care of you, yeah?"

And he did. He kept his word. You jumped in the bathtub about 5 minutes later, settling between his legs. He held you in his arms, kissing all along the curve of your neck, playing with your breasts as he kept telling you about his plan to take over his grandfather's company.

Eventually, with you being your needy self, he had you straddle his hips, as he sunk his cock into your pussy. You went limp against his chest, your pussy every now and then clenching around him as he tickled your sides and played with your ass. When the water started to get cold, all it took for you to finish were a few simple rolls of your hips, Ransom following closely behind, much to your surprise.

That night, he didn't ask you to cook anything for him, instead just ordering and sharing a pizza. As you waited for it to be delivered, Ransom ate your pussy into oblivion on the kitchen table, joking about how your cunt was the most delicious thing to ever touch that surface.

The following days went by similarly. He was always down to get dirty, but the one thing that was different now was his constant need to film you. With time you got perfectly comfortable with it, putting on a show for him with every chance you got. It was just a matter of time until you barely even noticed it.

One day, as you ran your usual errands, when you stopped by the bank, something caught your eye. You instantly requested the balance, and you almost dropped the piece of paper when you read the numbers. You paid the cashier a polite goodbye, and stormed out of the bank, your phone glued to your ear.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up!!"

But he didn't.

You rushed home, palms sweaty against the steering wheel. God, you hoped it wasn't what it seemed. What troubled you the most, was that you weren’t even 100% mad. There was some other kind of emotion there, but you pushed it aside. As soon as you reached your house, you stormed inside, bursting into Ransom's office without bothering to knock first.

And this time, you caught it. For a split second, you managed to see the video open on his computer, before he switched the tab back to Spider Solitaire.

"You fucking asshole!" you yelled, slamming the piece of paper against his chest, "You sick fuck! You thought I wouldn't notice?"

"Come on, baby" Ransom chuckled, way too relaxed for how enraged you were. He spun his chair around to face you, extending his hand to grab yours, "Relax, I only-"

"You only what?" you interrupted him, "Sold my nudes? Are you insane?"

"Don't talk to me like that-" he threatened, leaning his head to the side, "You know I don't appreciate it"

"And I don't apreciate you posting my sex tapes on the Internet!"

He grinned, "That’s not the same thing"

"Yeah!" you scoffed, throwing your arms into the air, "What you did is so much worse!"

"Careful there, baby" he shook his head.

You wanted to protest again, but he stood up. Ransom took a menacing step towards you, towering over your small frame, the fire in your attitude instantly dying down.

"You don't get to talk to me like that-" he whispered, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, "But I'll let it slide this time, doll, because that's exactly why I didn't tell you earlier. Wanted to see you panick a bit"

"Ransom…" you whined, "You should've asked"

He shook his head no, "You know I never ask, I just take. You should've considered this when you decided to be mine"

"I would have been into it, but I still wished you had told me" you said softly, too shy now to even look into his eyes.

"We talked about this, you're mine, I make the calls, not you"

"I know, Ransom, but-" you whined, but he grabbed your cheeks between his hands and stopped you.

"But what?"

You blinked a few times, "But nothing, I'm sorry I yelled, you're right"

"Of course I am" he chuckled, kissing your forehead, "See what happens when you worry, baby? Just be a good little girl and do what you're told without whining and bitching around, and everyone will be happy. We don't have to fight if you listen to me"

"I love you" you pouted, pressing yourself against his chest.

"Love you too, pet" he responded, slapping your ass a few times.

As things finally calmed down, you decided to go change and then return to Ransom's office so he could show you how the page was doing. Just when you were about to walk out the door, he called after you. "Oh, and Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"Love, some of the ideas I've gotten over the past few days where actually requests from our subscribers. Today will be fine, nothing new, but tomorrow we have a threesome. Some dude, Lee Bodecker, handsome guy, make yourself pretty, you'll love him!"

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enchantedblackrose · 4 years ago

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Flesh Wounds & Somedays

Jay Halstead/Reader

¡!Warnings: Infant abduction/kidnapping. SIDS. Violence against women. Swearing. Fluffy ending.

Still unedited, hoping to have the nice version up soon. Sorry in advance! Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! Please be safe ❤

Upon exiting the very stereotypical "mom van" you're greeted with harsh Chicago air stinging your face and it instantly makes your eyes water. You hastily blink back the tears though it's fruitless. Instead you pull the knit hat you're wearing further down your head and pull your scarf tighter. You keep the door open, huddling near the inside of the vehicle. Anything to stay warm. You scan the parking lot for any sign of your suspect. Anxiety starts setting in. It doesn't matter how long you've been doing this. The moments leading up to a confrontation always send your stomach plummeting

"Easy now," Jay, sporting the store employee smock, whispers as he rolls a grocery cart by, indicating to your foot mindlessly tapping against the cement. Immediately you stop. You give him a small smile. He winks in response. You pretend to dig around in your purse, anything to give the impression you're distracted when in reality all your senses are in overdrive.

Voight's voice barks your last name through your strategically placed com. "Suspect approaching from the east. You know what to do. Everyone else, stand down for now! We don't wanna spook him."

You open the back passenger door before closing the driver's. Your fingers work quickly at unfastening the baby from the seat. You then drape a blanket over the baby for protection against the cruel elements.

It's subtle, but you cannot ignore the feeling you're being watched. The reality is you are. Your whole team is looking out for you. But this is something different entirely, something sinister. You suppress a shudder. Securing the blanket once more, you hoist the baby from the carseat and hold the infant against your chest. With a push of a button, the passenger door slides shut. You fiddle with the keys, making sure the van locks before tossing them in your purse.

You coo at the little bundle snuggled against your chest. Your steps deliberately appear hurried.

And that's when he emerges from a dark blue conversion van parked one whole row over. You spot him out of the corner of your eye and he is unmistakably walking towards you. But you stick to the plan. Your pace slows just barely, not wanting your target to sense the change. You also don't want to actually reach the store entrance and potentially bring harm to the public even with Al and Ruzek inside.

He suddenly appears in front of you, eyes frantically dart around before resting on you. He's disheveled. clothes are wrinkled and slightly stained. His greasy, unwashed black hair is plastered to his head. He smiles which unnerves you. But you return it anyway. His grin disappears. "Give me that baby. And you won't get hurt...much" He removes his right hand from his coat pocket and you notice the blade he's gripping. That's new, you think to yourself. He's growing desperate. Still, you have to get him to attempt an attack or abduction.

"No!" You pull the baby impossibly closer to you. "Leave or I'm gonna yell for help." The threat is feeble on purpose but still seems to evoke rage inside the man.

He lunges at you. His body weight sends you stumbling but you remain on your feet. He wildly pulls at your arms and at the baby, trying to break your grasp. He swings his left arm and his fist perfectly catches your eye.

"Son of a bitch!" You cry. Your foot slams onto one of his and you use that moment to headbutt him square on his chin. He lets out a primal scream before sticking the blade into your upper thigh and you can't help but yelp in pain. He tugs the baby out of your arms. The blanket drops to the ground.

You watch the changing expressions dance across his ugly face: anger, elation at his success, confusion.

"What the hell?"

It's the opening you need. Your weapon is drawn on him. "That's right, you stupid son of a bitch. The baby's fake. Chicago PD! Get down, face down."

Still in his stupor, he obeys. You kick the blade away just as Antonio and Jay come running from opposite directions. Antonio searches and mirandizes him. You return your gun to its inside waistband holster.

As your adrenaline begins to slow, you feel exactly how much pain you're in. It's evident that your eye has started to swell and there's a throbbing sensation in your thigh. You stagger a bit, but a pair of strong arms steady you.

He sighs and you look at Jay. "Don't start," you warn.

"I should have been there. I ended up carrying groceries for this old lady..." Guilt is written all of his handsome features.

"Did she tip you?" You joke, but he stares at you. "Stop. We knew this might happen. He had to attack me." The rest of the team appears and Jay drops his voice to a whisper.

"Yeah, attack like come at you, not actually harm you." He looks as if he's about to argue more when the sound of tires squealing interrupts.

You flash concern. "He wasn't alone." Your eyes meet those of your colleagues.

Voight breaks the silence. "Antonio, get that piece of garbage out of here.Halstead, get her to Med. The rest of you let's head back." You open your mouth to protest, but Hank won't even let you get a word in. "That leg's gonna need stitches. Now go." He stares at you until you move. Jay lends his support as you gently lean into him. It's not as needed as it is comforting.

You were seen and stitched in no time; the wound to your thigh was mostly superficial. Your swollen eye, which was now bruising, was being iced. You would have left Med sooner if your weirdly overcautious boyfriend hadn't insisted that his own brother see you before checking out. It took Will saying it, but Jay finally seemed to accept you were, in fact, fine.

You want in that interview room more than you've wanted anything in a long time.

"Absolutely not," Voight answers when you ask. "This guy doesn't respect women. I don't need you going in there so he can admire his handiwork." He waves a hand indicating to your black eye you're still icing. Hank returns to the observation window to watch Antonio and Atwater interrogate a very non talkative perp.

You remain in the bullpen with Adam, Jay, Mouse and Alvin to stare at that damn board some more.

Alvin recaps; all of you hoping to discover something, anything at all, that could help solve the case.

"Here's what we know. 2 or more suspects working to abduct infants. 1 in custody. Greg Jones. Couple of parking tickets, nothing too serious. Attempted three abductions, not including today's, in broad daylight, over the course of two weeks. Only one was he successful, if you call it that, but the infant was later abandoned at Firehouse 51."

You interrupt. "That baby left at 51, was a boy, right?"

Al double checks before answering, "Yeah."

"The other two attempts were on baby girls," Jay adds, possibly sensing where your mind is going.

You nod. "And today, I had a lavender blanket to cover the doll. One would probably assume it was for a baby girl. Just hold on a sec. Mouse," you holler over to him, knowing he'll pull up what you want faster than anyone. "Check hospital records and obituaries, plesse! Any infant deaths in the last month? Can you look into Jones' social media, too? Girlfriends and such." You've hardly finished the request and Mouse has the information for you. "How many of the babies that died were girls?"

"Two."

"Do you have the mothers' names? Any link to Jones?"

Mouse 's eyes scan the screen in front of him. "Tiffany Young...girlfriend of Jones according to Facebook, lost her baby girl last month."

You nearly hop up from your seat. "Text us her last known." You nod to Jay, asking without words if he's ready. Before you can walk away, Mouse calls your name.

"She was reported missing three days ago."

The whole team exchanges uneasy glances.

In a bizarre turn of events, Tiffany Young had reported herself missing. Jones and Young had been working together to abduct a baby girl with a plan to then flee the state. You and the team discovered that Young was conspiring against Jones going as far as plotting his murder to take place after a successful kidnapping. He would look responsible for her disappearance and his death would appear as a suicide. At least in theory.

It wasn't the best thought out plan, but in these situations they seldom were.

"I still don't understand," said Adam. You were all gathered around a large table at Molly's trying to relax after a long day. Well not all, Antonio made arrangements to see his kids. Al had also rushed off. "Why plan to off Jones?"

"She blames him for their daughter dying." You say taking a sip of your drink. "I read the report, even though it was SIDS, he was the only one there at the time." Everyone is quiet for a moment, presumably lost in their own thoughts. It takes Herrmann coming around, asking who wants another round for the conversation to resume.

Thanks to the refills and a few well timed jokes, the mood of the night has drastically shifted to a much happier one. An hour or so goes by when Jay lightly squeezes your knee under the table. You understand the gesture, surprised that he's waited this long to signal his want to leave. Jay hadn't really wanted to go out in the first place. "I'm gonna head out," you tell the group standing only when you've finished the last of your drink. There's a chorus of goodbyes. As you walk away, you hear Jay excuse himself to use the bathroom. You know he'll leave for your place afterwards. Neither of you know exactly why you keep the fact you're dating from your friends. Maybe the sneaking around is thrilling. Maybe it's just nice having something of your own. Regardless, it's the worst kept secret of the precinct, though no one has any proof and they ultimately leave you alone about it.

You've only changed into a tee shirt when a knock beckons you. You let Jay in. The door has just closed and he's ordered you to take your pants off.

"We need to work on your foreplay," you quip, but Jay's not laughing.

"I'm serious. I need to see again that you're okay."

You sigh, but shimmy out of your jeans. His genuine concern for you was slightly overwhelming in the best way, never having experienced anything like it before. Carefully, you pull back the adhesive bandage exposing your fresh flesh wound, still very bright pink and aggravated.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs.

"It's not your fault," you say, trying to reassure him.

"I hate that you were hurting and I couldn't do anything." He pulls you for a tight embrace while mindful of your thigh. He's completely still for a moment, breathing you in and finding peace in your arms.

Suddenly, he picks you up off your feet. It catches you off guard and you giggle. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer. Instead he takes you to the bathroom and sets you on the counter near the sink. He starts rummaging through your medicine cabinet, pulling out gauze, bandages, and rubbing alcohol. He grabs a clean washcloth from the towel rack.

You raise one eyebrow in question. "I thought I had Detective Halstead, not Doctor."

"Tonight you have both." You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing, but the misconstruction of his words hit him. "That came out wrong. That's not at all what I meant." Laughter escapes from you and Jay joins in, shaking his head and telling you to keep your mind out of the gutter.

"Mm, it's difficult when you're around." You give him a quick peck on the lips.

He turns the warm water on, letting it run for a minute. He tests it, making sure it's not too hot before soaking the wash cloth. He rings it out and looks you in the eyes. "I'm not sure this is going to feel all that great.'

You nod your understanding and Jay very gingerly begins to clean your wound. You talk to keep yourself distracted. "I can't stop thinking about the case. Clearly, they're competent for trial and I'm not justifying what they did, or tried to do. But I can't imagine losing a baby. Just the thought…" Your voice drops off. You wish you could leave work at work, and sometimes you can, but tonight when you're struggling to do so, you feel extra fortunate to have someone who truly understands.

Jay has almost finished cleaning your wound, allowing it time to breathe before covering it with a fresh bandage. "I know," he says. "I kept thinking about if that had been us and our baby, what would stop me from going crazy."

Your heart flutters a little faster, "Our baby?" It's the first time he's ever said anything like this.

He suddenly avoids eye contact with you. "Yeah? I mean someday...down the road if we are still...and that's something we...you want...maybe?" His cheeks are flushed and he glances at you, his green eyes full of hope.

"Jay Halstead," you offer him a big smile, "have you been thinking about our someday?" He nods, giving you a smile of his own. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you. One of his hands rests on the countertop, the other lovingly brushes your cheek before you nuzzle into the spot just below his neck. You plant a kiss there. "Tell me more about your plans."

"Well they definitely don't include you getting stabbed again," he pulls away just enough to cover your thigh with the new bandage. A slight pout plays at your lips having not gotten the answer you wanted. Jay, seeing this, chuckles. "C'mon." He lifts you off the counter, carrying to the bedroom.

Gently, he places you onto the bed. You watch as he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers. He catches you admiring his physique and shoots you a wink. But you pretend to still pout and cross you arms. It causes Jay to shake his head, bemused by you.

Pulling the covers back, he slides into bed and brings you to his side. He kisses the top of your head, fingers tracing a nonsensical pattern along your arm. "I see lots for us, love. So many ways things could play out, but it's always with you at my side."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," and with that Jay launches into different versions of the future he's envisioned. Some are improbable, others imaginative, many seem possible, but all include you, just as he said.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you

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povcherry · 3 years ago

Text

The Love Test | DNF

Dream and George take a test to see if they are in love with their best friend

The intense red text was prominent on his screen. Frustratingly, the one time Dream agrees to playing bedwars with George and Hypixel is down.

Dream lent back in his chair, hands behind his head staring up at the ceiling. His room was dark, the only light shone from his monitors. Patches wrapped around his legs. A deep sigh left George, as he lay his head on his desk in exasperation, an empty subway wrapper by his face, the time on his monitor read 2:17 am, yet he wasn't tired. After being on calls almost consecutively with Dream for essentially a year, he had managed to sync his sleep schedule up with him, already in Florida time prepared for when he goes to live with Dream and Sapnap.

George was disheartened. He was looking forward to playing with Dream. They were both normally either too tired or busy editing or working to go on minecraft for fun, and not just for a YouTube video. But now that they couldn't play bedwars, they were bored and unsure of what to do. They only called each other so that they could play minecraft, but that wasn't an option anymore.

"What do you want to do now then?" Dream asks, his voice far away from the mic, so much so that George nearly missed what he said. He hesitated, staring at Dreams discord profile picture light up.

"We could..." He stalled, drawing out his words. He wasn't the best at making decisions, he was much to indecisive. "Do you want to stream GeoGuessr?" He suggested, silently hoping Dream would say no. He didn't really want to do anything, only talk to Dream for hours on end.

"Not really. My brain is too slow for that level of concentration." That earned a giggle from George, putting a small smile on Dreams face. He loved that sound. "How about we go in my merch vc? Me and ni- Sapnap had fun last time just listening to music?"

George was hesitant. The last time he went in Dreams merch voice call was during the sleep over with Sapnap and Dream. That ended up in a disaster of butterflies and George having to turn his phone off for a couple of hours just to distract himself from the 'dreamnotfound' mayhem they had caused yet again on twitter. He felt giddy just thinking about it, Dream whispering into the mic, loudly cursing when George beat him at 8ball. It made him dizzy thinking about it... thinking about him.

George didn't hate it though- the attention from Dream and the fans. Despite all the jokes and innuendos that they both do to mess with their fans, George knew there was some truth to it all. A deeper meaning to being called an idiot. The endearing term that Dream loved to use oh so much. George felt fluttery, wanting to be called an idiot at this moment.

"George?" He had been silent for a while, reminiscing.

"What would we do on there?"

"Just talk. Or listen to music. Whatever you want to do, George".

Without thinking, George clicked onto the icon for Dreams server. "Do you need to add me to the call?" He asked, unsure about how the podcasts worked.

"Yeah, I need to quickly tell my mods to open it first."

Within minutes, they where in the call, hundreds of people pouring in immediately, spamming the chat with things like 'GEORGE?!' and blue and green hearts. George stifled a giggle, nerves taking over him. Despite doing streams for a living with tens of thousands of people watching him, there was something more intimate with calling Dream in a private server.

"Hello" Dream broke the silence, welcoming all the fans. He chuckled, looking at the chat, "Yes, George is here today. Hypixel was down and we had nothing to do"

"Hi" George was unsure what to say, scratching his neck in awkwardness. It wasn't this weird when he was streaming. At least then they had a plan and chat was relatively easy to read. He was doubtful that this call would end well, what with his ignorance to some innuendos and jokes involving DreamNotfound.

"We thought we would just pop on here. We're kind of bored." Dream stated, unable to see what people where spamming in the #podcast chat. "I can't see what you guys are saying, i'll probably just read my twitch chat."

Half an hour passed and George was getting hungry and bored, nothing eventful had really happened so far except for Dream explaining his setup and chat freaking out over his galaxy mouse pad.

"I want food but all that's in my fridge is butter... oh and the BTS sauces and... uhm expired milk" George complained, looking through his fridge while still on the call.

Dream chucked, "Why do you have expired milk in your fridge?"

"Not the point, I just want food"

"Well get some food then" Dream counteracted. George sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting back down in his chair. His stomach rumbled loudly, calling out to his hunger.

"I'm going to order McDonald's." And with that George muted his mic, found the McDonald's number and ordered his food, in the background, he could hear Dream.

"Should i do a quiz?... yeah? Link some in the podcast chat." There was a long silence. George, long ordered his food, stayed muted, listening to Dream talk to his chat. He found it so endearing the way Dream spoke to them, as though they where a family. His voice soft and gentle as he scrolled through the chat looking for a quiz.

"Ooh, this looks interesting... oh, 'Am I In Love With My Best Friend?'. Sounds... interesting" George stopped. Everything seemed to slow down. Eyes wide as he looked at the screen infront of him, Dreams discord icon lighting up as he chuckled nervously. He wasn't actually going to do it was he? The room was getting hot for George, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to delve into the idea of being in love with his best friend, let alone his best friend being in love with him.

He quickly unmuted, ready to call Dream out on what he was doing, but Dream beat him to it.

"George, i'm going to do the 'Am I In Love With My Best Friend?' quiz" He laughed, opening up the link and reading out the first question. "do you catch yourself looking at your best friend?"

George stalled. They had face timed multiple times in the past, Dream only letting George see his eyes upwards, but George always found it hard for him to look away. He got lost staring at his best friends eyes. George quickly messaged Dream asking for the link for the quiz, if Dream was going to do it, so would George.

"Dream, check dm's" He rushed.

"Huh, what, why?" Dream asked, busy trying to still his own heart beat. He had always known at the back of his mind that he had romantic feelings for George, whether that is because he was just touched starved and was desperate, or because he genuinely wanted more than just a friendship with George, suppressing his feelings as to not ruin anything between them.

"Just read it." George urged, getting apprehensive, unsure whether he should just delete the comment and over analyse everything Dream says.

But before he knew it, the link to the quiz had been sent to George, a small smiley face underneath it from Dream. George was about to reply with a '?' to the smile, but Dream spoke up again.

"I just put 'once in a while', i mean, it's not like im never looking at you but i don't do it like.. all the time." George clicked all the time. He couldn't get enough of Dreams warm amiable eyes. His eyes were a kind of green that speaks to the soul of nature, of fresh wands of grass and new buds, and his eyes were that bright colour, bold and beautiful.

"Right," he snickered, " next question, 'are they the first person you call when something happens?' uhm... yeah, i guess. But not always, i mean i would call my mom first." He laughed, ignoring the fact that George was silent. George always called Dream if something was wrong. He wasn't in contact with his parents, Sapnap wasn't the most mature when it came to serious things, yes he was a great friend and he would be there for George if he needed, but Dream came first. George put Dream before everyone, at time even before himself.

"George?" Dream disrupted his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You're being so quiet, everyone is asking if you're asleep" George looked at chat, Sure enough, between all the green and blue hearts, there where people spamming Georges name and sleep.

"Oh uhm no, it is 3 am though. Kind of tired." He said, anxiously looking at the next question, mouse already hovering over 'it's nice if i can'. George didn't wake up thinking about Dream, not always anyway. Just if they had fallen asleep on call together, or if they were recording a video that day.

"You should sleep." His voice had softened. He too was looking at the same question. Thinking about George staying up just for him made him feel giddy, but he also didn't want George to be sleep deprived.

George held back a smile. "I'm good, we're in sync bb" he snickered, knowing that would get a rise out of the chat. He could practically hear Dream roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Oh come on" He laughed, his voice low and raspy as he started to read out the next question. He couldn't get through it without laughing, however. "'Do you get jealous if he or she has a boyfriend or girlfriend?' Oh come on! I mean..." He started, George's scoff cut him off. "What?" Dream laughed.

"Nothing" George giggled

"To be fair.. no, but... i mean, wouldn't anyone?"

"Not really." George counteracted.

"Well, no. But! But! But! It would be one of those things where it's like, awe, now he's gonna be spending time, like, doing that, instead of like, with us. Like with like, me and sap. So, I'll put maybe a little. Right? Maybe a little.?" Dream stuttered, trying to defend his reasoning while George just giggled at his flusteredness.

George had already clicked 'ugh its the worst' already. He remembered when Dream had told him Sapnap was moving in with him. Now, George knew his best friends. He knew there was nothing going on between Dream and Sapnap, but something about them living together tickled George the wrong way. He was pissed off, to say the least. George wasn't normally jealous, but when it came to Dream, he became a different person. He almost didn't want to share Dream with anyone else... George wanted Dream all to himself.

"Dream, no one is arguing with you..." George whispered endearingly, a small smile painted across his lips.

The next few questions were uneventful. Dream still defended his answers despite no body calling him out on them. The chat was a blur of left ear jokes and and blue and greens. George answered 'yes' on the majority of the questions.

" Do you have dreams about them? Im- Okay! That's unfair, like, oh my god. Okay, I'll put sometimes." Dream rushed, desperately wanting to move onto the next question. He didn't want to tell chat, and especially George, about the dreams he has. No body knew about the desperation Dream has when he dreams about George. The want and longing to touch George in many ways than one. The heartache Dream feels when he wakes up because he knows the happiness his feels in his dreams could never be recreated.

"What?" George once again giggled. He was starting to have fun now. Seeing Dream embarrassed made George feel slightly better about his answers, but at this rate he was afraid the quiz would tell him he's so hopelessly in love with his best friend that there was no hope for him. "What do you dream about me?"

"You- you've had- you're- you're an idiot, you've had dreams! You've had one hundred pe- you've told me about dreams you've had!" He stammered, struggling to get his words out correctly without revealing too much. He was starting to get hot, the air conditioning in his room seemed to do nothing, the 'GNF' jumper he was wearing was suffocating him. He was suddenly finding it hard to breath under the weird pressure of these questions he had no obligation answering.

"What type of dreams, hmm?" George teased. He had his head resting in his hands leaning on the desk, taking in everything Dream was saying. George, of course had clicked 'all the time' about dreaming about Dream. Dream was on his mind 24/7.

"Oh don't even start with me, i know you've had dreams about me. You told me you've like.. texted me in your dreams or something. You.. you definitely have, anyway..." The two argued for the next few questions, and it was all smooth sailing for both Dream and George, until it came to the big one. The one that caused George to almost throw up the McDonald's that he had eaten a half hour ago.

Dream went silent. George could almost hear Dreams heart beating through the mic. He knew why, too. He saw the question. George had been dreading this. He chose to stay silent, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to kiss your best friend?" Dream was silent for almost thirty seconds. He felt sick. The amount of times he had wondered what Georges lips felt like. Whether or not they were made for him. Perfectly molded to fit Dreams own. He dreamt about them constantly. The soft touch of lips. He was beyond salvageable. "Uhm, n-no. Of course not."

"Why did you take so long to answer?" George was apprehensive. He wondered whether Dream thought about kissing him as much as he did. George so desperately wanted to, he wanted to feel them on his own lips, wanted to know what Dream tasted like, how he smelt. He was forlorn.

"I'm just going to put, well... i'm going to put.. well there's no good answers. I'm just going to put 'yes but it would be like kissing my mom'". He lied, his mouse had been hovering over 'at least a few times a day', unsure whether to click it or not, but he knew the truth. He wanted to kiss George more than he ever wanted to do anything ever.

The rest of the quiz, George kept silent. If he opened his mouth, he would confess his love on the spot. He had finished all the questions, revealing a 32%. He was totally in love with his best friend. Desperately, pathetically and hopelessly in love. He needed help.

"Okay, last question" Georges ears pricked up at this, he was happy it was almost over. He needed to talk to Dream in private, even if it killed him. "Do you see them in your future?... of course. A lot of my future is your future. I don't want a future without you in it..." Dream whispered, muting his physical mic so that no one could hear his breath leave his body. That was the most intimate he had probably ever been with George in front of fans. He hoped he hadn't just messed anything up.

George still stayed silent. Dreams answer made him almost cry with happiness. He couldn't imagine a future without Dream.

Dream un-muted his mic to finish up the quiz, "It says, you are in love with a few things about your best friend, so it's likely that you could fall entirely in love with them if you... if things keep up the way they are right now." George was unsure of what to say. Chat was once again asking if he was asleep. Both boys took no notice. Almost silently, so silently George almost missed it. But he held his breath, staring at the monitor with fear. All colour had drained from his face. He was about to pass out.

"If.. if you're worried they don't feel the same way... you're going to have to find out how to shut your feelings off, you don't want to ruin what you have."... no one talked for a couple seconds... both of them waiting for the other to say something, until George plucked up the courage.

"I don't want to ruin anything, Dream."

George loved Dream, and Dream was sure he loved George.

#georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dreamwasfound #gream #dreamnotfound #dnf brainrot #short story

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ikleesfiction · 4 years ago

Text

I'm a fucking alcoholic (with a sweet tooth)

Fandom : Chicago PD TV Word count : 1,623 words Pairing : Jay Halstead x reader Author's note : This is the third one shot of "Will you follow through if I fall for you" fic continuation. It would be better if you read it first. But if you don't, here's the quick summary. Warning : It's fluff. I hope it doesn't end up too cringy?

Disclaimer

◢◤

It is a cold Friday in Chicago. You would say it is super cold since you worked in the warm weather of Los Angeles last week. Jay is coming over to your place after work. Now both of you are snuggling on the couch, watching movies on TV.

"I cannot watch this part," You hide your face in Jay's chest, preparing for the frightening scene. The darkness in the room increases the tension.

"What are you talking about? This is not even a horror movie," Jay looks down at you, bemused.

"Say you! Watching Tom Cruise blowing up a Gallardo distressed me. My soul is crying. It is a nightmare!"

You move out from Jay's embrace to point out the screen where Maggie Q said it is such a nice car. "Yes, it is! Don't do it, Zhen," yell you at the TV.

However, The Lamborghini on screen still went kaboom and was engulfed in fire. "Oh, no!" You put your hand on your heart, feeling devastated.

Jay grins at your silliness, "I'm sorry for your loss," He rubs your back, offering his condolences. However, his smile turns flirty. "If there's anything I can do to ease your pain..."

You play along with his idea. "Hmm, is that so?" Your hands wrap around Jay, pulling him closer. Your nose is tracing his neck, up to his jaw, his cheek. Your lips softly grace his skin, make their way closer to his. Jay wasted no time to kiss you and keep kissing you.

You don't know how long it goes, and you don't care to know. Until Jay moves back abruptly, tilting his head away from you, "Your pho..."

Your lips cut his words as you get on his lap. Jay puts his hands on your waist to stop you, halfheartedly, "Babe, your phone is ringing,"

Your hands curl behind his neck. "Let it ring." You whisper to his ear. Jay shudders when he feels your breath on his neck. Your mouth soon follows to make a mark on the same point. Jay tries to hold himself back from reciprocating the gesture.

Unlike Jay and his work, you got no obligation to pick up your phone. No life or death depends on you tonight. But the phone keeps shrieking. It started to annoy you because Jay stops participating in this make-out session.

"Might be important," This is one of the rare times you want to curse Jay's occupation.

"I assure you it won't be," You try to get Jay back in the game.

"Well, at least you can tell them to call you back later," Jay lands a soft kiss on your forehead. With a loud sigh, you move away from Jay's lap to pick up your phone.

Seeing the caller ID frustrates you even further. "You are interrupting our date night," is the first thing you say to your best friend, Alex, when you receive the call and put it on speaker.

"Hi, Jay!" Alex chirps his greeting, ignoring your complaint.

Jay greets back with a chuckle, "Hey, man. Nice to hear from you," He takes the remote to pause the movie, where Tom Cruise is gunning a Mercedes CLK down the road.

"No, it's not." You grumble under your breath. "What's up? Did you just come up with a song idea that would make Bruno Mars wished he wrote it?"

As a fellow songwriter/producer, you understand that song inspiration could come anytime. But it would still piss you off if Alex insists on working for it tonight.

"Not yet. But we do have a potential project for you,"

"Couldn't it wait until next week?" You moan your refusal. "Jay and I got plans for the weekend,"

"Of course. As long as you promise to pick up your phone when Angelique calls. I know you have been dodging her." Alex chides you.

Huffing your aversion, you lay your head on Jay's lap. In reflex, he plays with your hair. "Who's Angelique? A new talent?" Jay never heard that name before. He is pretty sure that he knows everybody at Pyramid, Alex's record label in Amsterdam where you work for.

Alex starts to explain, "She is a singer. Been around for a while,"

"Country singer, turned bubblegum pop singer, and now I guess she wants to try dance music as well?" You elaborate to Jay and asking Alex at the same time. You have written and produced songs from various genres, but your notable works so far are mostly EDM.

"Maybe," Alex answers casually.

"Angelique..." Jay ponders for a moment before lighting up, "Oh! Is she the one whose songs you keep skipping whenever they pop up, babe?"

Your best friend lets out a big laugh from the other side of the phone. "Angelique wants Y/N to produce her next album, but all of a sudden Y/N here cannot find the receive button on her phone," Alex emphasizes his sarcasm.

"I took yours, didn't I?"

However, Alex begins his interrogation. "Why are you avoiding her calls anyway?"

"I don't wanna work with her," You know you sound petulant.

"Come on, Y/N, it would be great! Angelique's third album sold triple more than her second. Her last single went neck to neck with Taylor Swift's song. Now, she is gonna let you work on her fourth album! Other producers would kill for this opportunity," Alex tries to reason.

Jay whistles, being impressed by the story.

"Well, my boyfriend here is a cop. I don't wanna get involved in any criminal activity," You are intentionally being obtuse. "If it were so great, why don't you do it? You're the one who still works on stage."

"You know people talked about how you could be the next Max Martin, right? Made sense that she asked for you," Alex states. "Angelique doesn't need another artist to perform with her. She needs someone who writes and produces good stuff."

"Every producer could be the next Max Martin if they work hard," You shrug the notion.

Jay looks confused with all these new names. "And Max Martin is...?"

"We are never ever ever getting back together?" Alex starts singing a couple bars to show Jay some examples of Max Martin's works.

"Uh..." Jay doesn't show any recognition.

"ou make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream?" Alex sings another song. Your best friend is nothing but persistent.

"Uhm.." And yet, Jay is still clueless.

"Jay is not keeping up with pop music for the last decade, Lex," You joke to your best friend. "Try some songs from the Backstreet Boys,"

"Hey!" Jay protests. "I know your songs," He smirks at you in full smug. "Especially the ones that were written about me."

You laugh at his adorable and sexy smirk. Sitting up from Jay's lap, you kiss the smug out of him.

"Guys, I'm still here." The flat tone of Alex on the phone stops Jay from taking the kiss further.

You peck a corner of Jay's lips one more time. "Your own fault. Who told you to call during our date night anyway?"

"Since I'm not there to poke and pinch you, I hope Jay could help me convince you to take this project." Your best friend is shameless.

"Is Angelique not a good person or something?" Jay tries to understand the situation. He knows you are a hard worker. It is rare for you to run off from a big project like this. "She ought to be a good singer, right? With all of that achievements,"

You cross your arms and glare at your boyfriend, "It is a prerogative to hate your best friend's exes, no?"

Jay frowns, "Wait, Angelique is Alex's ex?"

"Oh, come on!" groans Alex. "It was years ago!"

"You know how the saying goes. Quote-unquote, "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die”

"That was kinda harsh," Jay comments.

"Your best friend still hates me until now, Jay." You roll your eyes at your boyfriend.

"Mouse doesn't hate you. I even haven't got a chance to tell him about you since he's been deployed," Jay raises his eyebrows.

"She meant your work partner," Alex answers Jay for you.

Jay frowns deeper, "Hailey doesn't hate you."

"Wanna bet on that?" You challenge him.

Alex prevents the couple from bickering further, "Guys, listen! Angelique and I broke up amicably. There were no hard feelings between us now,"

"Excuse you!" You exclaim. "I still remember those dark days. You cried over so many Tequila bottles. And those boxes of chocolate!! Why did we have to consume that much chocolate over a breakup?? My waistline did not come back to its original measurement for three months!!"

Jay lets out an amused snort.

"Oh, you don't get to talk, man!" Alex hits the couple back. "Your temporary breakup also forced me to replenish my Jenever stocks! I got bakeries phone numbers on speed dial for chocolate cake emergencies!"

Jay puts his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. You guys continue to discuss business," He stands up from the couch. "I'm gonna go warm up some pie," Jay gestures to the kitchen area. "Alex, it's nice to catch up with you. Hope the next time we talk, it would be more social and less about business,"

"And you, love, try to listen to what Alex offers first before you cut him off," Jay bends down to kiss your lips teasingly. "Please don't pull out any bottles with more than 40% alcohol content. I need you sober for our plans tonight." He winks at you before moving to the kitchen, leaving you to deal with your pushy best friend alone.

+x Taglist +x

@lorenakaspersen @life-treatments @itsdesiree86

Foot Note: - Tom Cruise and Maggie Q blew up a Lamborghini Gallardo in Mission: Impossible III (2006). All of the MI movies are classics in my household. - Max Martin is a Swedish record producer, songwriter. You might not know his name, but I'm sure you know his songs. In reference to this fic, he co-wrote and co-produced Taylor Swift's "We are never ever ever getting back together", co-wrote Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream", co-wrote and co-produced some of Backstreet Boys' biggest hits. - "You are my friend. She is your ex. You get to forgive and move on. I get to hold a grudge until I die" line is taken from Henrietta Wilson on 9-1-1 TV Series S02E04 "Stuck". I thought it was hilarious. The line became the reason for this particular fic's existence.

I'm sorry for the long note. Thank you for reading this fic and the note. You are so welcome to reply, ask or tag me. We can talk about music, series or Jesse Lee Soffer's abs. :p

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fic #one Chicago fic #chicago pd fic #chicago pd tv #jay halstead #reader #original character #fanfiction #one shot #original work #wyftiiffy

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nina-nkl · 4 years ago

Text

The Notorious Alpha// Chapter One//Peter Hale

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW. I am terrible, but life has been a mess. With university, personal life and all that. My mom had the corona but she is great now. I am trying to come back to writing. I am really sorry guys. Merry belated Christmas!

The Notorious Alpha// master list.

Chapter one.

S02 E12- Master Plan

Zoe’s P.O.V.

I parked my new BMW X6, which was a gift from my father when he tried to get me to stay with him, in front of Beacon Hills High School to see my little brother and Stiles who is not my brother but after knowing him for his entire life, I am pretty sure he is my brother.

As I walk in the school hallways so many memories come to my mind, I mean it’s only been a year since I was a student here, I miss high school life was so much easier. I was late when I parked the car in the parking lot, some people were leaving, there was a lacrosse game tonight, Stiles took my ear off about it. I walked towards the locker room first to see if the boys were in there, as I neared the locker rooms I could hear talking.

“She is gorgeous,” a voice said.

“Shut up” I heard two different voices say at the same time and I am pretty sure one of them was Scott.

I leaned against the wall watching for a few seconds, and I decided to make myself known.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!” I say and in a flash four pairs of eyes snap to me. I see my brother, a cute blond guy beside him and to men in front of the boys.

“Zoe?” Scott said surprised to see me.

“Surprise, I guess?” I said a little bit weirded out from all the attention I was getting right now.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked me.

“Stiles called me a couple days ago, filled me in on what's going on. I got a little tied up with dad or else I would have been here sooner” I answered “ I can’t believe you are a werewolf” I continued.

“Uhmm, who is she?” the cute blond asked.

“Zoe, my sister,” Scott said.

“Another McCall? Great,” the tall moody man said sarcastically.

“Tone down the sarcasm Cranky Pants” I bit back at him.

I glared at the man as I walked around him towards my brother. I am not going to lie, he is kind of hot.

“I am going to guess you are Derek and you are Isaac,” they both look at me weird, “as I said Stiles filled me in”.

“Hi,” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Hi,” I said sweetly to him, “so, who is the Cranky pants.” I pointed towards him as he glared at me and I sarcastically smiled back at him.

“That's Peter, Derek’s uncle. Little while back he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat out.” Scott explained.

“Hi.” Peter waved with a small awkward smile.

“That's good to know,” Isaac replied.

I was too shocked to say anything, I mean yeah Stiles filled me in but only informed me about my brother being a werewolf, the kanima, and Derek’s pack. That is just too much to handle. I mean my brother took part in the murder of someone, werewolf or not, psycho or not, that is still a life. Not to mention the supposed murdered victim is alive, breathing, and standing right in front of me.

“How is he alive?” Scott asked, still glaring at Peter .

“Look, long story short he knows how to stop Jackson, maybe even save him” Derek answered him.

“Well that’s very helpful, except Jackson is dead” Issac says.

“WHAT?” I scream the same time Derek says what too.

“Yeah! Jackson is dead. It just happened on the field” Scott confirms.

Derek and Peter look at each other obviously bothered by the news.

“Okay why is no one taking it as good news?” Issac asks.

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen,” Peter says, and damn his voice is deep, mysterious and sexy.

“But why?” Derek asks his uncle to elaborate.

“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing”.

“Peachy, just god damn peachy.” I say done with this whole thing already.

“We are going to the Hale House,” Peter says.

As we walked towards the parking lot, I could feel eyes on me from behind. I didn’t turn around though. When we reached the exit I started walking near my car, when I felt Scott stop a few steps behind me. I turn around to look at him.

“Well aren’t you gonna come? I am driving!” I tell him.

“I think you should go home” Scott tells me and I look at him with disbelief. “I will go with Derek,” he continues.

“Oh, so I am supposed to let you get in the car with the guy who turned you and tried to kill you and the guy who slashed his own uncles throat out? I am not crazy yet. ” I tell him seriously and am kind of angry. Derek looks at me mad, or offended I can’t really tell and Peter just looks uninterested.

“Zoe--” Scott tries to plead.

“No, puppy eyes don’t work on me. I am the one who teached you that look.'' I cut him off. “Now get in the car and let’s go”. Then I unlock my jeep and hop in, which is kind of a challenge since I am short and the stupid thing is 10 times the size of me.

“Do you need directions?” Derek asked me when Scott got in the car with me.

“No, I am good. I know where the infamous Hale house is,” I replied and with that my car roared into life and I backed out of my parking space. “Don’t get left behind Sourwolf”. I saw Issac try to hold back a chuckle and even Peter let out a small smirk slip out of his hard façade.

As we walked into the Hale house ( Derek got his ego bruised ‘cause I beat him here) Scott was looking at his,

“Oh. Oh they found Stiles.” Scott said relieved.

“I told you I looked everywhere,” Derek said to Peter who walked towards the stairs.

“You didn’t look here”, Peter says and crunches at the beginning of the stairs and takes something from underneath a step.

“What is that? Α book?” Derek asks/

“No, it’s a laptop. What century are you living in” Peter replied with sarcasm. Derek rolls his eyes at him. “A few days after I got out of the come, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.” Peter says. He got up and walked towards a table. Suddenly Scott's cell phone rings.

“Hey, Mom, I can’t talk right now.” Scott answers the phone. “What's wrong?” he asked. After a few seconds he hangs up the phone and announces that we have to go to the hospital. “ Isaac, Zoe, we have to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I should come with. I haven’t seen mom yet and I don’t think we should reunite over a dead body” I say to him. “ Take my car, I’ll stay here to see if I can help” I look at him as I extend my hand to give him the car keys. “See you soon, be careful.”

As Scott and Isaac practically ran out of the burned down house, I look at the older werewolves in front of me. Derek just looks at me, as Peter has already started working on getting information for the kanima.

It’s been maybe 30 minutes since we were all staring at the laptop screen, I was standing leaning over Peter's right shoulder and Derek was just standing by the left.

“Oh my god, what is that?” I look at the screen.

“Call Scott.” Peter says. I was still staring at the screen leaning closer to it and brushing Peter’s shoulder in the process. Ignoring that, I hear Derek talking in the background.

“Okay, look, I think I found something,” Peter says. “ Looks like what you are seeing from Jackson its just the Kanima’s Beta shape.” he continues.

“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?” Derek asks, also leaning over.

“Bigger and Badder.” Peter replies with worry in his tone.

“He is going to turn into that? That thing has wings.” I exclaim.

“I can see that sweetheart.” Peter says to me but not sarcastically, but with fear in his voice.

“Scott bring him to us.” Derek says into the phone.

“What is that? Right there?” I point towards the screen where there is a play button.

“Look, somebody made an animation of it. Maybe it’s less frightening if we--” Peter taps the mouse and a screeching sound comes out of the speakers. The tree of us jump back and Peter closes the laptop quickly. “No not at all. We should probably meet him halfway”

All of us ran towards the door and suddenly I ran into Peter’s back. “For fuck’s sake Cranky Pants” I curse under my breath.

“We need Lydia.” Peter says.

“There is no time for--” Derek starts

“That's the problem. We are rushing. We are moving too fast. And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard’s crosshair.” Peter says.

“If i get the chance to kill Jackson, I’m taking it.” Derek says and turns back around.

I freeze in my spot, shocked that I am about to participate in the murder of a teenage boy- kanima or not. Peter sees it and grabs my hand rushing behind Derek.

We stop behind an abandoned building, Derek and Peter get out of the car and I follow.

“You guys stay here. I will go meet Scott and Isaac. Peter you will know when to come out” Derek says.

“Whoa, hey, wait a min--” I was caught off by Derek already running in all fours, like a dog I guess. “Well, fun meeting you Cranky Pants, but I am going to go to my brother now.” As I turn to walk away, Peter grabs my arm, really hard may I add, and turns me towards him.

“What are you doing? You can’t go out there. When Jackson will wake up he will go on a killing spree.” Peter whisper yells.

“Well, you already went on a killing spree once, what if you get off your rockets again and I will be your first victim.” I whisper yell back at him.

“Zoe-”

“Bye Peter!!” I say as I look him in the eyes and tear my arm from his grasp. I could see that he was a little angry, but excuse me that I wasn’t gonna stay with somebody that tried to kill my brother less than a year ago. When I cached up with Scott and the others, they were already in the abandoned building. I could hear Peter close behind me.

“-- wouldn’t let a rapid dog live.” A middle age man explained to the three werewolves. I was about to walk into the building another voice broke the silence.

“Of course not” an old man said. That’s when Peter grabbed me and pushed me beside the door. I knew it wasn’t the time to argue. I could feel the tension in the air. Peter and I peek around the corner although he tried to hide the view from me the best he could. “Anything that dangerous. That out of control... Is better off dead.” The old man said.

Right when Derek went to slash Jackson stomach, Jackson’s claw dug in his chest. I felt like I was going to vomit and I turned myself so I wouldn’t see what’s about to happen. From the side of my eye I could see Peter getting angry and his claws expanding. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself and I look towards Peter.

“Kill them all” I heard shouting and I almost fainted. I got down to the ground and pulled my knees close to my chest, trying to make my self as small as possible when we heard the screeching of tires and a loud bang. I heard the voice of Lydia yelling Jackson name and I slowly stood up. After a couple of seconds Peter jumped out and pushed his claws in Jackson back and Derek in his stomach. When Lydia was on the floor besides Jackson body I make my way towards my brother and Stiles.

I was looking toward the couple with tears in my eyes as I stood beside Stiles. Derek was looking on with a sad expression on his face and Isaac too.

“Where is Gerard?” Allison asked and the middle aged man answered that he can’t be far. When Lydia turned towards us Stiles started towards her but was stopped by the sounds of claws dragging on the concrete. All heads turned to the dead boy in front of Stiles jeep to see his wounds starting to close and Jackson getting up slowly. My eyes widened and turned my eyes towards the older werewolf here hoping that’s there is an explanation for this but all he did was too looking on with a shocked expression.

Stiles started to tear up and moved forward but stopped beside Scott for a few minutes the two boys were looking at each other when Stiles looked down and said “He scratched my Jeep.” With hurt in his voice.

“Stiles...” I moved towards him following behind in the Jeep. He got in the driving seat and I got on after him. He started driving and didn’t say a word. “Stiles... are you okay?” I speak softly as if i was going to scare him. I didn’t get a reply back...

“Stiles, let’s go at my place, have a sleepover like old times.” I said and he turned towards the route for Scott’s and mine’s house. When we got there my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she must work late night shifts. I will see her in the morning.

We go up to my room and I give Stiles some of my brothers clothes as I too take some for pajamas, because my suitcase is in my car and right now I really don’t know where my car is. After I was my face in the bathroom, I go to my room seeing Stiles in my bed already. I creep towards him and get in the bed beside him. I hug him from behind when he starts to sob quietly.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Stiles” I whisper sweet nothing to his ear until he fells asleep, me following close behind.

A/N: The sibling love is real between Stiles and Zoe!!!!

Tag list: @wil2space @iclosetgeek

#Peter Hale #peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #scott mccall imagine #Scott McCall #derek hale #derek hale imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

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s3r-en-d1p-ity · 5 years ago

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just friends - t. chalamet (part 3)

part 1 , part 2

pairing: reader x timothée chalamet

warnings: swearing, lotttssss of fluff

recap: timothée starts dating lily, lily doesn’t like reader, reader realizes she's in love, kiss

some of you who wanted part 3: @thenerdiverse @sadhwstudent @0verthnking @eternaleviee

4:48AM.

That’s the time the clock on your bedside table read. You were completely aware of the arm around your stomach, the hair tickling the back of your neck, and the soft breaths into the crook of your neck.

After the kiss, and the call from Lily, you both stared at the phone. Your heart was thumping erratically in your chest, and you were too afraid to see Timothée’s reaction. What surprised you the most, was when he pressed the off button on his phone and denied the call. He grabbed your hand, got into the bed and pulled you in with him. He turned you on your side and wrapped an arm around you, resting his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. He mumbled a “goodnight” to you, and only a few minutes later, his breath had evened out.

You’d been up since then, replaying what happened. Like a broken record. Goosebumps were all over your body, just remembering the feeling you got when he kissed you. Had he felt the same way all along? What did the kiss mean? Or maybe it was closure.

You used to call Timothée over all the time when you couldn’t sleep. He’d hold you or talk to you until he was sure you had passed out. It was quite funny that now, he was holding you, and you were unable to sleep because all of your thoughts were consumed of him.

Your body ached for you to turn around, and just stare at him. You wouldn’t let yourself though. Sleeping Timmy is just another way for you to fall more in love with him.

And wow. You had confessed your love for him. It came out at the least expected time. But you did it. The thing you've been stressing about all week, leaving a heavy weight on your shoulders, was off, and it felt good. But it brought a whole new set of worries. What was going to happen now? He doesn't feel the same way, and you try to keep your friendship but it’s too awkward for you so you end it? He does feel the same way, but doesn't want to hurt Lily and the kiss is never brought up again?

The possibilities were endless. It made your head hurt. You finally couldn't resist anymore and slowly turned over to face Timmy. You could make out his facial features in the dark. His arm suddenly tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him. And your heart melted into a puddle, of course.

Christmas was approaching and it was coming fast. One of your friends decided to have a Christmas party, filled with only your closest friends. Timothée was here too, somewhere making trouble. Unfortunately, you two hadn’t talked about the kiss at all. But he certainly didn’t ignore it. The smiles held more meaning behind it, the random staring, the small touches you knew were on purpose, like grazing your waist, or brushing his hand against yours.

No one in your group had any idea what happened to Lily. Timothée hasn’t mentioned her to anyone at all, since the kiss. You all could only assume it was trouble in paradise. Maybe, he told Lily and they got into a huge fight. Who knows?

Y/f/n’s Christmas parties always brought the spirit to the holidays. The beginning of December is when it was held each year. There would be a naked tree, untouched by any Christmas decorations, and containers full of ornaments next to it. Some people would take over the tree, while others would decorate cookies in the kitchen, and others would just sit around and drink alcohol.

You were around the Christmas tree, helping place ornaments, with a glass of wine in your hand. “I put the mistletoe on the kitchen doorway,” One of your friends mentioned. You all turned around and saw it hanging discreetly. “I wonder who’s gonna end up there first.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the tree. This year, most of the girls were working on the tree while the guys took over the kitchen. You could hear the rustle and laughter, and wondered how much of a mess they were making.

You spotted a bare spot on the tree, and grabbed an ornament to fill the space. Unfortunately, it was just a little bit too tall for you. You reached on your tip toes and just barely grazed the spot, but still couldn’t reach it. You were the tallest out of your girl friends, so it’s not like you could ask them.

As if answering your prayers, someone came up behind you and grabbed the ornament, hanging it with ease. When he dropped his hand, he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Timo,” You acknowledged. Your friends sent you knowing glances, but turned back to what they were doing. “Shouldn’t you be decorating me a cookie right now?” You grinned.

“Already did.” Timothée gloated, bringing one of his hands up to your face, showing you his creation. It had white frosting and a bunch of sprinkles on it, and it looked like he tried to make a snowman but gave up. “Timmy, you never fail to impress me with your artistic skills.” You joked, leaning on him. He put the cookie to your lips and you took a bite of it. “The flavor though,” You added, throwing out a chefs kiss. “Exquisite.”

“I tried my best, okay?” He laughed. He looked up at the Christmas tree, resting his chin on your shoulder. “The tree looks amazing. You guys did way better than we ever do.” He said, referring to the guys.

“Girls are better than boys at everything, Timmy.” You snickered. He gasped. “Take that back, or you’ll regret it.” “I’m not scared of you.” You shrugged, his head moving up and back down with the gesture. He only made a humming sound, turning his head slightly so his nose brushed against your cheek. He kept it like that for a few seconds, before he unexpectedly licked a bold stripe up your cheek. You squealed and he jumped away from you, running off. You wiped off your cheek and ran after him, chasing him around the kitchen. He made a run for it and ran back out of the kitchen. You were hot on his heel, and then he stopped unexpectedly. “I give up.” He sighed. You grinned, and when he turned around he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Giving up so soon?” You pouted, holding back your smirk. He only laughed and shook his head.

“Um, y/n? Timothée?” One of your friends called out. You looked over at her, and saw her with a few other of your friends, all looking at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Look up.”

You and Timothée both looked up at the same time, seeing the green leaves tied with a red ribbon above you. Shit.

The kiss was still fresh in your mind. He never gave you an answer. You looked over at Timothée, seeing him already looking at you. “Well, what are you waiting for, woman? We have to kiss.” He pointed at the mistletoe. You rolled your eyes and his serious face turned into a grin as he leaned in, cupping your cheek. He looked down at your lips, back up to your eyes, and back down. Then, you both hesitantly leaned in and your lips connected. Bringing back all the feelings.

Your head was spinning, your stomach was turning, and your legs felt like jello. Your hands clutched onto his sweatshirt, as your lips moved in sync with one another.

You became aware that there was still a crowd, and slowly pulled away. His hand didn't leave your cheek as you looked around at your friends who were all staring at the two of you. Some, with a smirk, some with their mouths opened wide, and some were winking at the two of you and grinning like crazy.

“Well, let’s watch a movie, shall we?”

It was a week later when you were in your living room, watching TV, and the door opened. You automatically knew it was Timothée, because he’s the only one who has a key.

He didn’t say anything, just joined you on the couch. “Mickey Mouse? Fantasia? Really?” He looked over at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, sue me. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my 23 years of living.” You scoffed. He shrugged and turned his head back to the screen.

It went on like that for a few minutes, until you reached for the remote and paused it. “Timmy, we need to talk about the kiss. Kisses.”

He looked over at you, nodding. “Yeah, we do.”

“W-what did that first kiss mean? Why’d you kiss me? What was the answer to that?” You blurted out, anxious to hear what had been keeping you up at night. Your heart sped up. It was all or nothing. He could have feelings for you, or he could reject you and possibly ruin the friendship forever? Not that you wanted to ruin your friendship over this. But you weren't so sure you could live knowing your best friend rejected you and you have to watch him move on in a life without you.

He kept eye contact with you, shifting his position so he was completely facing you. “Y/n, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I thought you knew and didn’t want to reject me, so I busied myself with other girls. If I’d known you felt like that the whole time, I would’ve kissed you a long time ago.” He smiled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your heart sped up even more. He felt this way the whole time?

“I think we both know I’m pretty clueless when it comes to how other people are feeling.” You sheepishly grinned. He laughed, nodding. “You are kinda oblivious.” You both laughed at that.

“So... what does this mean?” You asked awkwardly. Lord knows you had no idea what to do in these kinds of situations. You avoided his gaze.

Then, your chin was being lifted up and Timothée’s lips were connected with yours. You kissed back immediately, your hand going to the back of his neck. This kiss felt similar to the one at the Christmas party, but with more emotion behind it. You both knew how you felt now and that made it all the more special.

Your hands played with the curls at the nape of his neck while his gripped your waist. He pulled you onto his lap, wanting you closer to him. When you both pulled away breathless, you rested your forehead on his. “I love you, Timmy.” You mumbled, a curl wrapped around your finger.

He grinned. “And I love you, y/n/n.”

#Timothee #timothée chalamet icons #Timothee Chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst #timothee chalamet imagine #angst #Angst with a happy ending #just pure angst #imagine #fanfic #x reader

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strangebrews · 4 years ago

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@madam-metaphor asked: 69. Ventriloquist

So Eddie was still out of a job. Not an ideal state to be in, by any means, though he’d excused the situation on being busy with other, more pertinent things—diverting an alien invasion, for starters.

But it’d been 2 months since anything urgent had come up and here was Eddie during a Wednesday afternoon, on the couch with a microwave dinner in his lap. TV shows had gotten worse nowadays, he was thinking, no respect for plot anymore, just pure drama.

His bills were piling up—the stack of envelopes was becoming painfully apparent on the island in the kitchen, giant red notices bleeding onto the paper—but it wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t tried. He had tried—at the grocery store, the pet shop, even the fucking video rental place—yet none of the leads had amounted to any promising offer. He was just unlucky, that was all, he thought and took another bite.

You’re very lucky, Eddie. I decided to live in your body. Venom regarded itself quite highly.

He was flipping through channels now, irritated with his lack of options, Venom’s head perched on his shoulder. A streaming subscription, that’s what he needed. Another bill added to the mound, but it was necessary, because, “I mean look at this shit,” he gestured towards the TV with his remote, mouth full, “You cannot expect me to want to watch this kind of crap.” It’d been some ventriloquist—third fucking episode in a row—and Eddie jammed his finger into the skip in frustration.

Wait.

Venom pressed a tendril to the back button and slithered closer to the screen, head cocked in interest.

How did he get that little human onto his arm?

Eddie gave Vee a crooked smile. He would admit, providing Venom explanations of silly human behaviors was one of his favorite aspects of this cohabitation. “It’s not a tiny human. It’s a puppet—not alive. You stick your arm up the hole in its ass and make it do things.” He laughed, amused at his own explanation.

Venom’s eyes glimmered. Don’t we do the same thing?

The laughing stopped. “No, no we do not do the same thing—it’s different. It’s very fucking different. You’re supposed to make jokes, create a show, have people watch you.”

The glimmer intensified. Let’s do that.

“Do what? Become a career ventriloquist?” a slow nod was Eddie’s only answer.

Venom’s proposal was unsurpring, actually. It had grown increasingly frustrated recently—angry that Eddie could walk the streets now without anyone suspecting anything out of the ordinary, providing no indication they knew Venom was living inside. But the issue was that Venom wanted to be seen—wanted everyone to know that Eddie was taken, that this was Venom’s Eddie. It didn’t want anyone looking at him. Considering him.

Venom had thrown a fit once or twice in public already, accidentally shoved someone out through the glass doors of a bus because they’d brushed up against Eddie a little too often. And that had been an accident—the person was fine aside from a few scratches on the nose—but Venom had been sternly warned that day to never try anything like it again.

“I’ll rip you out of me, Vee. I promise I will.” Obviously it was an exaggeration, but the image it produced was painful enough for Venom to agree.

So this was its roundabout way of being present in public. They could star in a show together—much like the one on TV—and Venom would have an excuse to stay on the outside, make itself known. It was a perfect idea.

I would make a great puppet, Eddie.

Eddie just laughed and brushed the crumbs off the front of his shirt. He used to be an esteemed journalist. He was not going to become a fucking ventriloquist for the afternoon broadcast. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was not an option. It was—

They were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Venom’s head bobbing out from Eddie’s right hand, while another piece wrapped around his arm before cutting off entirely before the elbow.

A puppet. A gooey, terrifying, alien puppet.

Venom had succeeded in getting Eddie to try the idea out—there was no harm in just trying, it’d argued. And yes, fucking had been a factor in the convincing process, but there was no need to focus on silly details.

They’d been glued to the same spot for nearly an hour now, Eddie trying to mold Venom’s mass into something a bit less menacing. He’d tried giving it pointed ears, a nose, some makeshift hair strands that were supposed to cover a part of Venom’s eyes, but they resembled creepy noodles, if anything else. The attempts were useless, so with a sigh Eddie gave in and moved onto the next issue. “We’ll just be really funny, to distract from the unconventional look.” Unconventional was his way of describing it, because there was no reason to hurt Vee’s feelings.

Mouth movements proved to be a problem too. “You have to move it based on the shape of the words I’m saying. What you’re doing is not convincing at all.” Venom was just opening and closing its maw haphazardly, disregarding any authenticity.

I’m meant to be a puppet. They lack the same facial mechanics.

“Yeah, but—” Eddie cut himself off, because there was a point to be made here, he just wasn’t sure what it was. He set that aside for later.

The tongue—the tongue had to go.

“It’s just a bit unsettling, is all, when you flick it all the way out like that, you know? Some might find it suggestive, others might think it's insulting.” So Venom curled it back into its maw, with some difficulty, but it’d managed.

Then they encountered an issue with the flow of the conversation. Eddie should have expected Venom to hit a few bumps in the road when it came to witty comebacks, but it really killed the vibe when it kept answering with things like Eddie, do you really think I look like a nasty talking tar ball?

Eddie even tried feeding Venom dialogue through his thoughts, but on the fourth failed attempt he decided they were done. “We tried, we basically failed. I’ve got more important things to do.”

Staring into your empty fridge so you can ignore your real problems isn’t very important. Eddie did not entertain Venom with a response.

Yes, he should have been looking for a job still, but Eddie chose to write a script instead.

They had stopped after that fourth try, but returned to the mirror an hour later. Eddie was going to get it right—he was going to squeeze at least one original, funny thing out of Venom.

On the seventh try he decided the only way out of this was writing a script.

Recording the video, with his phone resting on the dresser and the script hiding beside it, was also, just a one-off thing. A quick hyperfixation, nothing more.

He worked on their conversation for 2 days, smoothed out all the kinks in their performance during the 10 rounds of practice recordings. Venom could now shape its mouth around the words, kept its tongue inside, and even spoke at a higher pitch to make it more convincing. The pair was ready.

Uploading the video to Youtube had also been Eddie’s idea. He had not given up on the project, and neither had he given up on being in denial towards the fact that he was absorbed by said project.

“It’s just—I refuse to have wasted 5 fucking hours on this and keep it private, you know?” It was a weak argument, and he suspected Venom would have raised its eyebrows in doubt if it had any, but it stayed silent.

He’d done some minimal editing. Nothing too fancy—just an intro and an outro, simple things he’d learned during his journalism days. “It’s not gonna get any views.” he was talking to himself at this point, mouse hovering over the Publish.

“It wasn’t even that funny.” The video had successfully appeared on the recent uploads page—Eddie had checked to make sure, but he didn’t necessarily care.

“I’ll probably delete it in a day or two, anyway, mind you.” Venom continued to hide away.

Venom was only ever quiet for two reasons: it was tired, or it had won a battle with Eddie and had nothing more to say. This case slotted under the latter category.

Because Eddie had not deleted the video after a day or two—it was still floating around on the Internet and Eddie’s finger was beginning to cramp up from refreshing. And refreshing. And refreshing.

The result wasn’t anything major. It was only 100,000 hits in 5 days and the title was pure bait—kinda hard to pass up a video called “Famous Ex-Journalist Stuffs Hand Up Puppet’s Bumhole, Calls It Coping” (That’s a misleading title, Venom had noted. “I know, just trust me.”)

“It’s not even that funny of a video.” Eddie said again on the 6th day, but there was a smile tugging at his lips—nearing 200,000 now.

Cooksucker3000 said your puppet is fucking dope, Eddie. Venom hummed along Eddie’s arms in satisfaction. The comments were its favorite part, for quite obvious reasons, and Eddie was too preoccupied with his own shower of compliments to correct Venom’s reading mistakes.

this is so hilarious!!

i love the idea!

good to see ur doing well - i remember u from tv!

u r really fucking hot xx

Delete that. It has nothing to do with the contents of the video. So not all of the comments were Venom’s favorite.

When they hit 300,000 Eddie said, “Fine—I’ll write one more script. But after that, we’re done.” Venom did not put up a fight this time either.

Because fine, Eddie could say whatever he wanted, but they shared a fucking body at the end of the day—as if Venom wouldn’t have noticed him finishing up the 4th script of a series last night.

#symbrock #eddie brock #venom #mine #madam-metaphor #{screaming into the void} what am i Doing #anyway xoxo hope u like it

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dreamnap · 5 years ago

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[fic] oh, i miss when we first met (take me out baby)

pairing: onesided sapnap/dream (dreamnap), background dreamnotfound

rating: g

genre/tags: angst and unrequited love babey! oh, and did i mention pining?

notes: me and @dream-not-found are twinning with unrequited dreamnap. go read her fic and weep. special shoutout to mitski, who i listened to exclusively on loop over and over again while writing this fic

summary: It was as much of a confession as he was going to give.

ao3 link

It could be love.

Sapnap stared at the phone, the remnants of Dream’s voice still echoing in his mind. It had been the first video call they'd done in a while— a celebratory thing, really, where he had popped in with a quick happy birthday as the clock rolled over to midnight.

Dream’s face, though blurry from the dark lighting, was still clear enough for Sapnap to get a good look at him. The last time he had seen him on camera must have been years ago, and Dream had changed immensely since then. His body had filled out some, from what he could tell, broader than before, and he now held himself with a sort of modest confidence.

It could really be love: churning, heavy, pooling into his gut.

He was handsome, in a way that still retained that characteristic boyishness Sapnap had grown familiar with from when they were kids. Handsome in the way his smile stayed in his thoughts even hours after he’d hung up.

They were friends⁠⁠—best friends, even. Nothing more than that.

It shouldn’t have been anything more than that, and yet Sapnap had been grappling with the idea for a while now, turning the words over and over in his mouth as he lay under the covers, remembering the way Dream curled up into himself a little when he’d laughed, tucking his face in the crook of his elbow as he wheezed out some stupid joke he’d seen earlier that day.

Love isn’t what he wants. It shouldn’t be love. And anyways, Dream had been mentioning a girl he'd met recently, seemed to have really hit it off with her.

It would pass. Sapnap would make sure of it.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—

Two weeks before high school graduation he gets asked out.

“I know it’s kind of late,” she said, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. “But you should go out. With me.”

He did his best to remember who she is, but all he could think of was one of his woodshop classes, where she camouflaged into the crowd in the back. She had brown hair. Green eyes. Not memorable in many ways, but the relaxed smile she had given him on occasion when they walked in together had left Sapnap with all sorts of strange, familiar feelings.

She left him her number this time instead.

He pulled open her contact, and stared at the text box.

They had joked about it before, sometimes.

When you come down to my place, where should I take you out?, innocently thrown into the recording. Like as a date?

It was too flippant to be real but it had always made Dream happy, even if he cut it out from the final video, and so Sapnap knew it was never a big deal, really. Besides, it was fun to joke around with him, and everytime he laughed there was a tide of affection that rose through Sapnap⁠— slow, crashing, like the way a wave rolled into shore. The idea of love⁠—forsaken as that was⁠—always gave him a little rush of hope, almost pathetic in a way, that made him wish he’d get an answer out of him one of these days.

What kind of flowers should I get you? Roses? They’re your favorite, aren’t they?

He thought about the facetimes at midnight, where the room was so dim that his hair had looked brown, and the green of his eyes; the way he grinned so bright whenever he talked about his girlfriend.

It wasn’t his to take.

So, he texted. When would you be free?

He could work this out.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—

“I don’t think this is working out.”

She was sitting in the passenger seat next to him, the car parked outside of her house, quiet as radio played some generic pop song that melted into the next.

“I know.”

She wasn’t looking at him, which made it almost worse than it already was. She wouldn’t say a word, she was staring out the window. Her gaze was almost unfocused, as if she were watching something very far in the distance. The reflection glared back at him in the dark of the evening.

And maybe it was cruel but he couldn't help but feel indifferent at it all. There was pain, sure— the same kind of pain that came with letting anyone go, but it was lighter. Different. It was mutable in a way, easy to ignore, and he found himself thinking about what to make for dinner instead, or if he had any homework due before his lecture tomorrow.

The car door opened. Closed. She never even said a goodbye.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

The music in the background kept going until the words and the melody faded into a dull static, and when he got home he crept up to his room.

He debated checking Teamspeak to see if anyone was online. There was no way he was going to be able to find Dream that night: he’d messaged him about big plans and she’s gonna love this gift I got her as they’d chatted aimlessly in his discord earlier.

I’m thinking maybe a fancy restaurant but— how fancy is too fancy, do you think? he’d asked. A dinner date, then. Sapnap couldn't help but close his eyes, and thought about Dream dressed all slick, and as the heat gradually rose to his face he knew he'd never be satisfied.

But Dream had a girlfriend who he loved very much; he stood no chance, regardless.

He glanced at the monitor. Maybe if he stayed up long enough he’d catch George and convince him to do a quick PVP match, if he woke up early. Sapnap’s first class tomorrow wasn’t until sometime midafternoon, anyways, so he could afford to stay up late.

His phone remained silent from its perch on his desk. She didn’t call or text him back, and he never did either.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—

>i don’t think this is working out.

Dream’s message startled him awake as the small notification went off in his headphones.

There were papers scattered all over his desk, layered over the top of his keyboard and everything around it. It was normally never that bad, but now, knee-deep in midterms, organization has taken its role as the least important thing to worry about. Sapnap shoved them aside into some poor, forlorn pile to his right as he grabbed his mouse and opened up Discord to type out a reply.

>what??

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen. One in the morning, which meant he had dozed off by accident over an hour ago. Another sound went off as Dream finally sent something back.

>how did you get over your breakup?

Breakup.

Breakup?

When had they broken up? Dream had seemed fine just yesterday, from what he could remember. He’d never come to him about any fights before, seemed happy. He sat there and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember the last year, but all he could think of was the sound of Dream’s voice.

>just stay strong man

>it only hurts for a week

>or two or three

Sapnap watched the three dots fall as Dream stopped typing, and waited for a bit for a response. Minutes passed, and then an hour, and Sapnap went back to looking at his notes. He knew Dream better than almost anyone else, and he knew when he needed his space.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—

“Don’t you think George is kinda cute?” Dream had asked one day, while they were playing on Hypixel together.

Sapnap's first thought is what?, and he sat there, dumbfounded, until he realized that it deserved to be said out loud.

“What?”

“You know what I mean! Kind of like a cat!”

Sapnap, in fact, did not know what that meant. He hadn’t even really known George all that well up until about a year or so ago, when Dream had pulled them in a Teamspeak channel together one day while brainstorming ideas for his new video.

Objectively, George was no cuter than a pigeon or something he’d pass on the street. He was fine, really, but Sapnap couldn’t see anything overly remarkable about him. Sapnap loved to bicker with him, and he was funny⁠—a little crazy, even⁠—but Dream thought he was hilarious even doing nothing at all. Dream waxed terrible poetry about his smile, praised the way he programmed, and always talked about the way his eyes had looked the one time he did a face reveal for a video.

Sapnap wasn’t really sure what to do with this information.

Dream likes him, he thought to himself later that night after George had joined the channel. Dream tried goading him into saying I love you while he was tossing him a stack of roses in-game, and George’s face flushed a funny shade of red as he finally said the words to get Dream to stop.

Sapnap looked at the two and buried his head in his hands. He stayed like that for a very long time.

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—

Eventually he had hit a breaking point.

They were streaming together, that’s how it went. They were streaming together, and Dream was riding off on another horse he’d picked up somewhere out in the near distance of their survival world. He was on his way to gather some more wood while he chatted with the viewers on Twitch in a relaxed lull.

Sapnap had been quiet for the most part, contented in his own small journey traversing the stripmine. He hummed along to some song from the chill beats playlist he’d pulled up half an hour ago as he tossed out andesite from his inventory. They had put George in charge of fixing a ruined flat of land near the tree farm, where it had only recently been wrecked by some creepers and poor timing. The battered holes had remained in the ground for about a week, until everyone was tired of being lazy and finally decided to do something about it. George sat there, where he complained for what must have been the last ten minutes about the lack of cobble to make stone bricks with and, well, Sapnap had figured he might as well get some more iron for all of them while he was at it.

“⁠—thank you for the dono,” Dream’s voice cut in, the rhythmic lilt of it so jarring that it snapped Sapnap out of his near daze as he dug along the grid patterns cut through stone. “Hi there. I love watching all of your videos! Can you tell George that you love him? And can you get him to say ‘I love you Dream?’ too?”

Sapnap looked over to the second monitor on his left, the donation box fading from the screen by the time he glanced at it. Dream’s stream silently continued to play in the background. He was towering up to reach the farthest edge of a large oak tree, inching towards the last log buried somewhere within the leaf blocks. The chat picked up as some fans started to bicker amongst themselves. Dream didn’t mind them—never did, really—and plowed on through with his reply.

“Haha, thank you. I’m glad you love watching them,” he said, not even missing a beat. “I tell George I love him all the time! He’s the one who never says it back. Geooorge, I love you.”

Suddenly how all of his collected material was sorted became the most interesting thing in the world to him. Sapnap took his time as he meticulously lined up the stacks for what felt like an hour. A second passed. George gave some kind of stilted laugh, the kind that he lets out when he feels too embarrassed to properly respond. Sapnap’s only thought was about the singsong way Dream called out that name in.

“See guys? It’s not my fault, I have no problem saying it! C’mon George, do it so they don’t waste their money. Just say I love you Dream.”

“I’m not saying that,” George butted in, his mic crackling a bit. His video was off but even then Sapnap could tell from how he said it that he was practically squirming in his seat. Coward. It wasn’t as if he’d never said it before, but he was always so camera shy⁠, especially with his crush—

Dream was still play-pleading for an answer, and so Sapnap decided to indulge him.

“Aww, Dream, you know I love you. You’ll always have my love, even if Georgie hates you.”

That got a reaction. Dream burst out in laughter as he breathily wheezed out a silly, off-tune heart been broke so many times while George started sputtering, trying to deny it.

Those two idiots. Sapnap’s been around them enough to know what flirting looks like. He thought about Dream, with his late night calls, where he bounced ideas off of Sapnap on what would get the best reaction from him in his newest video, and the way he had been doing it on and off for the past few months, now; George on his tiptoes until he ultimately stumbled into Sapnap’s DMs on Teamspeak, flustered over something Dream told him.

Coward, Sapnap thought, as he watched the two of them do their dance. He and George both were, he’d give him that.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It was as much of a confession as he was going to give.

#dreamwastaken #sapnap #dreamnap #drapnap #DOES ANYONE USE THAT TAG???? IVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE CALL IT THAT #dreamnapists wya i'm here with some food #*shakes a box of cat treats*#howlfic

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pennamesmith · 4 years ago

Text

Fabulous Skeletor Powers

She-Ra sings. Catra tries. Hordak prays. Entrapta says hey, what’s going on? More ‘Skeletor’ stories.

Catra awoke from a strange dream of She-Ra singing and dancing to the soft light of dawn. She yawned and shook the sleep from her head.

Adora was next to her, snoring as loudly as a landslide. Looking down at her Catra smiled and relaxed, which was a feeling she was still getting used to, nearly a year after the end of everything.

There had been times, alone in the Horde, when she had been unable to do anything but lie in bed at night and cry, trying desperately to flush out all the thoughts running around in her head.

Now, things were different. It felt a little peculiar. On bad days she still worried that she would never be able to make up for the damage she’d done, and didn’t deserve the happiness she had now. In her better moments she was able to remember that it wasn’t really about getting or having, but about trying all the time to see and return the love that had always been there for her.

Adora snorted and rolled over. Moving carefully so as not to disturb her, Catra rose and padded to the small kitchen of their Bright Moon home. Somewhere along the way she was joined by Melog, mewling and pressing against her shins for attention. She gave it, and the space cat’s tail twitched happily.

Without really having any particular plan in mind, Catra withdrew various ingredients from the cupboards and began to fix a modest breakfast. Before she had time to make any grievous cooking errors, Adora was suddenly awake and there behind her, hugging her, smiling, correcting the wayward cat’s mistakes, and adding a healthy dose of her own.

Before long they had something made from eggs and bread and vegetables that was not only edible but downright delicious, at least compared to green ration bars. They sat at their small table and ate and laughed together while Melog lay curled at their feet and purred contentedly.

Adora appeared to be thinking about something. She had one hand thrust in her pocket and her chin rested in the other, face screwed up in careful contemplation. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision. She looked up and leaned forward with a grin. “Hey, stud,” she started.

Catra burst into laughter, cutting off whatever Adora had been about to say next. “What was that? Was that supposed to be smooth?” she cackled.

Adora tried to recover. “Hey, I’m just kidding! Yeesh!” She waved her hands defensively. “I — Look, let me try that again.”

But Catra wasn’t really listening, because it had suddenly occurred to her that between the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window, the smell of their perfect breakfast, the warm, bursting feeling in her chest, and Adora sitting right in front of her, that this moment was absolutely, stomach-turningly picturesque.

That would have made her angry before. Now she felt something else.

Adora noticed her girlfriend’s distant look and reached out for her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Uh, not much!” Catra stammered, suddenly aware that she needed to get something from the other room, immediately. “I’ll be right back!”

She rushed to the spot where she hid important things, reached between a small bag of catmint and a little ball with a jingle bell inside, and retrieved a tiny hinged box with Entrapta’s factory seal of approval stamped on the lid.

She stuffed it deep in one pocket and hurried back to the kitchen table, heart pounding. Adora, in the meantime, had changed her sword into a golden toy mouse on a string and was letting Melog chase it across the floor.

“Oh good, you’re back!” Adora sat up straight in her chair and brightened. “Listen, I didn't really plan to do this right now — I actually wasn’t sure when exactly I was gonna do it until right now — but I’ve been thinking about… stuff. A lot. And this morning just felt so perfect and I was so happy that I thought, hey, maybe I should take a chance and…”

She trailed off. While she was talking she had withdrawn something from her own pocket and was fidgeting nervously with it. It, too, was a very small box, red and blue-black. Almost automatically, Catra produced hers.

They looked at each other soundlessly. A great number of things were said without words.

Ultimately it didn’t matter who broke the silence first, because the conversation would have been the same either way:

“So… I have a question for you.”

“I do, too.”

“You first?”

“Together.”

Hordak awoke to the sound of a klaxon alarm going off. Entrapta sat up straight in bed beside him, instantly alert, eyes wide with excitement.

“It’s happening!” She cried. “Variable A has been exposed to Variable C! The reaction has begun!” She laughed, maniacal and exuberant.

Hordak arose, much more blearily than his partner, and smiled. “I was wondering when they were going to get around to that. We finished making their rings weeks ago.”

“To the observation dome!” Entrapta shouted, leaping to her feet. “For science!” She scuttled out the door and away in a blur of purple and enthusiasm. Chuckling softly, Hordak stood and followed after her.

He stepped outside of their shared room in the Crypto Castle and took a deep breath as he prepared to climb the high stairs to Entrapta’s tower lab. He liked walking them; there were faster and easier ways to the top of the tower but the plodding pattern of his footsteps helped him examine and order his thoughts.

Going up the spiral staircase always seemed like climbing a great hill. It felt good to have hope, and a destination. The closer he got to the top, the more clearly he could hear Entrapta’s cries of excitement. It was like approaching a sun. That felt good, too.

Soon enough he reached the door to the lab (it was already ajar) and gently pushed his way inside. His partner was there, at work in the center of everything, cross-legged in midair as her hair stretched in a dozen different directions.

Entrapta cooed over her scientific instruments. Hordak watched her and felt something powerful move in his chest. Happiness branched through his body and showed plainly on his face. He no longer felt the need to hide his feelings inside.

Coming out of his reverie, Hordak realized quickly that Entrapta was not the only one present. Also populating the lab were Emily, who was doing a headstand, Imp, who was egging her on by playing peppy recordings of Scorpia’s voice, and a reprogrammed Horde drone Entrapta had named ‘Skeletor,’ who was shaking his fists and yelling.

“I’m talking to you, you dimwitted duo!” Skeletor shouted at the other two. “What is it that holds your attention more than the mighty Skeletor?”

Imp blew a raspberry and Emily made a dismissive beeping noise. They returned to ignoring him.

“How you vex me,” Skeletor grumbled.

Hordak looked away from this scene and approached Entrapta. She turned and made a happy noise, reaching out to draw him closer.

Entrapta eagerly showed off her equipment. “Look, look!” She pointed to one of the screens. “This reading means that both of the ring boxes have been opened. And this one means they’re both wearing them!”

She squealed in delight and leaned into Hordak’s shoulder. “And I could’ve gotten a visual, too, but somebody said that would be rude.” She stuck her tongue out, facetiously.

“There is nothing you could not do, if you set your mind to it,” Hordak told her. He pointed to the screen. “Tell me, what do these numbers mean?”

“Heart rate and endorphin levels!” Entrapta replied, happy to explain her machinations. “And it seems like things are going well!” She looked thoughtful. “Hm. You know, I’ve never been to another princess’ wedding before. I wonder if it involves magic? Or if they’ll have tiny food? What kind of present do you think we should bring?”

“I have read about Etherian traditions regarding this institution,” Hordak said, frowning. “This is going to be… somewhat more involved than our ceremony was, isn’t it?”

“If you mean that it won’t be in a lab and there’ll be more witnesses than Imp and the robots, then yes.” Entrapta had concern in her eyes. “What’s going on? Are you worried about the crowd? I know lots of tricks for staying calm in big groups.”

Hordak shook his head. “I was more concerned about how the other guests would react to… well.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “The ones who don’t know us as well as the happy couple, I mean.”

“There’s also Wrong Hordak. And Scorpia. And Perfuma’s getting to like you, too!” Entrapta pointed out. “Plus all the clones from our therapy group. You’re kind of their hero, y’know.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Hordak said. He looked away for a moment, toward where Skeletor continued to bother Imp and Emily.

“You pathetic pair of pitiful pinheads!” Skeletor fumed. “Some day I’ll have the power to destroy you! Some day!”

Imp grumbled and rode Emily to the other side of the lab, leaving the gangly troublemaker behind. Skeletor balled his fists and whined in frustration.

Hordak pursed his lips. “And that still leaves the matter of the other princesses, not to mention the citizenry. Ever since the revolution against Prime, I’ve hoped — ”

“And he prays!” Skeletor suddenly cut in. “Myaah!”

Hordak sighed. “Yes, even that. Every day. To the planet, or whoever cares to listen, that I have not done irreparable harm to this world. Or the fellowship it is made up of. But I fear it may already be too late.”

“Let me check the data!” Entrapta flipped rapidly through her screens. “Nope, Etheria is currently stable. Elemental readings are within parameters. You’re all good!”

Hordak smiled but did not look comforted. “Damage can go deeper than data, my dear,” he said.

“Ah, you’re referring to feelings being hurt.” The princess looked pleased with herself. “Well, I’ve got metrics for that, too. Everyone at Wrong Hordak’s therapy group is now twice as likely to initiate conversations with you while we’re there. Angry glares from people on the street are down forty percent since your cleanup and reconstruction work on Beast Island and Salineas. And...”

Entrapta put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full five feet. “You’re my lab partner. If anyone’s got a problem with that, I’ll fight them!” She stuck out her chin and flexed her arms.

Hordak’s worried expression softened. “I am humbled by your loyalty,” he said, sincerely. Then he grew pensive again. ”Do you... ever regret it?” he asked, touching a fingertip to the crystal on his collarbone and gazing at the matching one around Entrapta’s neck.

“A stupid question!” Skeletor interrupted.

“There’s no such thing,” Entrapta retorted. She picked the robot up with her hair and deposited him elsewhere, then turned her attention back to Hordak. “And to answer yours, no I do not. That data point remains unchanged.”

She flashed her eyes flirtatiously and handed him a graph. “Endearment, concupiscence, and intellectual stimulation, however, have all increased considerably. See for yourself!”

Hordak couldn’t help but smile as he reviewed her charts. The warm feeling returned to his chest. “I cannot argue with such fine research,” he relented.

“Data doesn’t lie!” Entrapta affirmed.

“You think you’re so smart!” Skeletor griped.

Without looking around, Entrapta picked him up again and placed him by the door. While he complained, Emily and Imp shooed him the rest of the way out, the latter playing a long recording of Skeletor’s own toothless insults as they went.

“You are still the finest scientist I know,” Hordak purred. He held out a hand. “May I assist you with your work?”

Entrapta beamed. “I thought you’d never ask!” She wrapped herself around him and drew him into her world. Hordak gladly followed. Together, they learned and discovered.

It was fabulous.

“Hordak and She-Ra, both defeated in the same day!” Skeletor said. “Ha! I should come to Etheria more often!”

#she ra fanfiction #catradora #entrapdak #adora #catra #hordak #entrapta #skeletor #fan fiction

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ardentmuse · 5 years ago

Text

No Ties (Harry Hart x Reader)

Kingsman - Harry Hart x Reader

Wordcount: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Summary: When Harry is recruited to KIngsman, he is an engaged man. But the organization’s policy means he can have no ties. He’s willing to sacrifice his happiness to keep you safe, but can you ever really get over having it all?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst... did I say angst?? Talk of death and violence, just a little bit of soul repairing at the end, but not much

Masterlist

A/N: This started a fem!reader which I then made gen!neutral so let me know if I missed anything. This also isn’t a song fic but is GREATLY inspired by I Was Gonna Marry You by Tristan Prettyman. So angsty and so lovely. Listen to it if you want! Also I need something fluffy after this so there may be another fic tonight to heal my soul. Also note that Kingsman - Day refers to the day Harry starts at Kingsman. Also I did not proofread this because I didn’t want to tbh. Thanks, sweeties!

Kingsman – Day 12

“What’s that you got there?” came a voice from the door of Harry’s new bedroom in the Kingsman manor. Harry turned to see Merlin, the newly-hired tech specialist, peering in and over his shoulder.

Realizing he was caught, Harry took the frame that he was intending to slide under his mattress and placed it prominently on the bedside table.

“Beautiful,” Merlin remarked as he took in the smiling face of a person about Harry’s age their nose scrunched in laughter. “Yours?”

“Was,” Harry mustered as he moved back to unpacking his bags. Merlin turned at the phrase, surprised at the finality of it, but when he saw how rigid Harry’s back was at the inquiry, he didn’t push the matter.

Eight Months Pre-Kingsman

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Harry knelt in the grass of the airfield, having just returned from his third and final tour with the military. His back was straight and his shoulders rigid as was customary in his regalia, the crisp blue suit holding his body in form.

The newly added third Bath star upon his shoulder, the sign of his most recent title, seemed almost as bright as the ring he held out to you. But your eyes seemed to take in neither. You only had eyes for Harry. Your gorgeous, glowing countenance was smiling down upon him, so desperate to hold him in your arms after months and months apart with only letters, much of which were redacted, to keep you connected. You hadn’t even got to hug him yet before he fell to his knees in front of his entire regiment. Tears were rolling down your cheeks at the sight of him, but he couldn’t even be sure you had seen the ring at all.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered as your hands came down to brush across his freshly shaven cheeks.

“And I you,” he smiled against your mouth as you took him in a kiss, completely ignoring his question. But he didn’t mind. He needed you, wanted you, and after so long apart, your touch was like a salve to all the open wounds of his heart, healing his mind from the terrors of war and replacing them with impossibly beautiful images of you naked across his white sheets, flush from lovemaking, or dancing with him on your back patio to soft jazz after dinner, or the sight of your face tilted downward as you walked towards him down a cobblestone path blanketed with flowers to exchange your vows.

As you collapsed into his shoulder, breathing in deeply his scent, his arms found the soft flesh of your waist and tugged you close, two humans wanting nothing more than to never have to part again.

“Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered in your ear, “Please.”

He felt you nod against his jaw more than he heard the mews from your lips. You pulled your hand away from his neck enough to give him the space to adorn it with the precious metal. And as you admired the ring over his shoulder, he admired the skin of your neck, the curve of your legs, and the soft feel of your waist under his hands, the greatest gift in his life his now for good.

Kingsman – Day 01

“I’ll only be gone a week, love,” Harry said as he kissed the top of you head before returning his attention back to the small travel bag he was packing. “And then I will be right back in your arms before you can even miss me.”

You laughed, “I miss you now.”

Harry sighed and turned to you fully as you reclined among the pillows of your shared bed. You were twiddling your thumbs, a weird new habit that formed since he placed that ring on your finger several months ago. The diamond shined in the soft bedroom lights, each turn of your hand catching a new beam. Your gaze danced in your lap and he could tell you were trying not to whine any more than you already had.

“I know,” he whispered, allowing his fingers the joy of running along your jawline. His touch had you lifting your eyes to meet his, still so captivating from behind your lashes. He had to kiss you.

As his lips moved down your jaw, he found himself crawling onto the bed with you, his body hovering over yours in a silent question.

“But I’m right here, right now,” he said with a cheeky smile against your neck. “No need to miss me already.”

His licks and nips across your skin had you smiling in earnest.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him hard against your body. You could already feel him responding to your closeness, the pleasant press of his hardening length against your core just an enjoyable sensation.

“You could always give me something to remember you by,” you cooed into his ear.

Harry chuckled, “How’s a card sound? Or maybe a nice tray of cookies?”

You lifted your hips and ground against him, shutting down his witty banter in a satisfying moan.

“So predictable” he laughed as you slowly sucked on his ear, rocking into him with vigor now, “my perfect little vixen.”

And he gave you quite a bit to remember him by.

Kingsman – Day 05

Several days of tactical tests and mental games had Harry worn down. He was succeeding at whatever they threw his way, but he was finding himself missing you more than he had during any previous training or deployment. Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was the raised stakes. Maybe it was the lies. But whatever it was, he could taste you upon his tongue each night as he tried to sleep. He could feel your warm body pressed against him. And if his dreams were any indication, he spent several hours of the night whispering to himself how much he adored you.

But today’s task may have been the very worst yet. He watched on a screen in the tech room as you danced around your kitchen, cleaning and singing and enjoyed the day. He even watched as you ran a finger lightly over a framed photo that hung just beside the sink of the two of your from last year’s military banquet. You gave two firm taps to Harry’s face before pulling your finger away, kissing the tip, and doing it again.

For minutes he watched as he sat as the alone recruit in the room, a few scattered agents watching along as well. No one said a single word.

That was until as you went back to your dishes, faint red crosshairs appears on the screen, centered perfectly on your precious skull.

Harry let out a primal yell, unsure to whom he was really yelling, and rose from his chair, clutching Mr. Pickles, as he decided a few hours ago to call his dog, to his chest.

“If we can get this close, just imagine what your enemies could do, Harry,” Agent Lancelot said with the firmness of a man who knew what he was saying from personal experience.

Harry held tight to the tiny puppy in his arms, unsure of what the actual test was here. Was he supposed to protect you? Was he supposed to call their bluff? Could he trust these strangers with your life?

“You’re bluffing,” Harry said, stern through his teeth as he watched another agent, Gawain he believed his name was, move the mouse, and the target, along with you. The lines gently bobbed along to the music you had playing.

Sensing Harry’s heightened attentions, the agent turned the volume up ever so slightly and the sounds of the third track off the record you listened to so often together when you cleaned came pumping into the suffocatingly cavernous room. And even fainter was the sound of your voice, humming along; happy and completely oblivious to the harm he was bringing to your life simply by being the capable soldier he already was.

“I assure you we never bluff here,” Lancelot said with a smile that only served to make Harry’s blood boil. “But we do have a strong code of honor here. I assume you’ve read the Gentleman’s Guide? Kingsmen only take life to save life.”

Lancelot took long steps towards the desk at which Gawain sat. The tactical agent was still staring intently at you as he kept his target as he had been instructed. But something in his gaze set off flares in Harry’s head and he saw red, a deep possessiveness overtaking him at the fact that any man could look at you as a target, for bullet or otherwise.

“But if you read the Gentleman’s Guide, then I assume you also became acquainted with another one of our rules, an important one. One that is necessary for the safety and success of our missions, and by proxy the safety of the crown, the country, and the planet in general, including your precious fiancé(e) right here.”

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as Lancelot nodded at Gawain.

“No ties.”

A shot rang.

You screamed, piercing through the speakers with shattering waves.

Harry bolted towards the monitor as the agents watched him. You had moved several feet away from the sink but appeared uninjured. But Harry saw what you had yet to see: a perfect prick right in the middle of the beautifully framed photo of the two of you, a bullet piercing what little space existed between your heads. Glass was shattered everywhere and the frame hung limply from its hook.

You slowly moved towards the photo, picked it up between your hands. You examined the damage while avoiding the shards of glass so fractured and sharp.

“What the fuck,” he thought he heard you whisper before you whipped your head around quickly to examine the room for the source the explosion.

Before Harry could see you calm, assure you that there was no harm to come to you in the home you loved, the monitor shut itself down.

“That right there is a liability, Harry. Sure, you can leave all of this, go back and live your happy little life. But you are a man of a certain set of skills. It won’t be long until someone finds them and wants to use them. How long until someone finds your lover who doesn’t have the same code as we?”

A pregnant pause filled the air, only the soft, whimpered breathing of Mr. Pickles at the clear distress of his owner broke through. Harry locked eyes with the man who just dared threaten your life. But did he really threaten your life any more than Harry’s mere existence did?

“Gawain,” Lancelot finally called out. He opened the door to the tech room and left Harry alone in the space. Once the door shut tight, Harry fell to his knees and cried.

Kingsman – Day 10

“I’m taking this job,” Harry said with a deep breath. His words pulled your eyes from the book you had been reading as you lounged so peacefully among the throw blankets on your sofa. “And you aren’t coming with me.”

You scrunched your face in confusion at Harry’s words, more serious than the kind of conversation you were expecting at this time of night, but then softened after a moment of thought.

“Like another deployment? Harry, whatever the time or the distance, we can make it work. I support you. What is another year when we’ll get to spend our whole lives together?”

You smiled up so sweetly at him, so sure that your love could endure any distance, any time, any weird radio silence his operations required. You suffered through so much already, supported him through years of putting his life on the line, going into the most dangerous places in the world and setting up systems to support British forces. And here you were, willing to do it all again, even when you’d come so close to a normal, domestic life. And that smile, that confident smile plastered on your face, broke his heart in a way he knew would never be repaired.

And yet somehow that smile also tightened his resolve. You were too good for this life, too good for him. And you deserved to live in a blissful world that was just as bright and pleasant and welcoming as you were. He couldn’t burden you with the darkness he knew, the darkness that would surround him wherever he went, Kingsman or not.

“You are misunderstanding me, love,” he said, cursing himself at how easily the pet name fell from his tongue, completely betraying his heart.

You looked at him with a serious expression. Your mouth fell open as the wheels turned. You gapped like a fish a time or two, watching the rigid tension of Harry’s jaw as he bit the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest to appear firm.

“… so that’s it?” you whispered. Your lip curled upward and quivered, causing tears to fall from Harry’s eyes as yours did as well.

“Yeah,” he managed before losing it completely, “it is.”

Harry fell at your feet, his hands coming down upon the blankets to draw circles into your tender knees as you cried in earnest.

“Was it something I did?”

You looked up at him with wells in your eyes, your hand kneading at the fabric in your lap. That image, the one of you broken and lost and just inches from him, a few inches of space so easily closed for a kiss but so vast now that those kisses were off the table, that image would be plastered in his mind forever. He knew it would haunt his dreams seeing the only thing he ever loved destroyed by his choices. But he told himself his own pain meant nothing if he couldn’t protect you. You would recover from this. What was he compared to you? In a few years, you would move on. But to move on from someone like you, he knew he never would. And that was his burden to bear, the burden of assuring your happiness and safety, even if he wasn’t the one to benefit.

“Never. You could never do anything—“ Harry said as he rubbed at your ears and your draw. “You’re perfect. But this is something I have to do for me.” Harry swallowed so he wouldn’t fill the space with the words he wanted to say: ‘for us. For you... Everything I do is for you.’

After a few minutes of crying and Harry trying his hardest to calm you with soft rubs of his hands, you took a steadying breath. You reached down to your hand and began to pull off the ring that had sat there, unmoved, for so many months.

Harry felt his heart stop. He had understood what leaving you meant intellectually but the sight of you without your ring, no longer wearing the symbol of where you heart lied, was simply too much. He felt like he couldn’t breath, the tightness in his chest too much for him. He had a brief flash of the flooding of the recruit room, the near drowning that has taken ahold of him just as he reached the toilet and the lightheadedness that was much closer to blacking out than he would like to admit. But this was worse. This pain couldn’t be alleviated with a few deep breaths and a couple minutes time.

This damage was permanent.

Quickly, his hand came down to hold the ring against your fingers and your gaze flicked up in hopeful question. But Harry simply shook his head no.

“It was a gift without condition,” he said to you, hoping you would understand just how much he needed you to keep it. “It is yours.”

You hiccupped, “I can’t keep it. I can’t. I can’t remember that I was going marry you.”

At your imploring gaze, Harry yielded, just like he always did for you. A final tug removed the diamond from your finger.

“It’ll hurt too much,” you pleaded as you dropped the ring into his palm. He didn’t have the heart to tell you it hurt him too much to take it away from you.

As he slipped the ring into his pocket, the weight of it feeling like it could sink him in a sea of despair, he heard you whisper, “I love you.” He ran his hands through your hair as he watched your eyes, still filled with tears pooling and pouring over down your lovely, kissable cheeks.

“I know,” he said and kissed your forehead, slow and sweet like it was the last time.

And when he pulled away, fully expecting to remove himself from you and your life for good, you met his gaze, pleading and honest as you leaned forward. And he could not deny himself the pleasure of feeling your lips, and your love, once more.

The kiss was bruising and all-encompassing. Your mouths melted together in a song they knew so well, but what were once bright chords became a mournful melody, a goodbye ballad.

And when he pinned you to the couch, sucked on your collar bone, and entered you, he moved as slow as his body would allow, memorizing the feel of your muscles gripping him so perfectly, the warmth of your hands upon his back and your breath on his neck, and the sounds that purred from your lips at his lovemaking.

He carried you to bed that night and held you close to his chest until your tears lulled you to sleep.

And when you woke in the morning, Harry, and his things, were gone.

Kingsman – Day 42

Harry walked down the high street away from the Kingsman tailor ship. It still felt quite strange to be wearing such a complicated piece of technology masquerading as formal wear, but he found he liked it. It was a uniform, the same as the kind he grew accustomed to as a soldier, but without the air of force or stoicism. He held his back tall as he continued down the road.

But something simple caught his trained eyes, just a flash of the familiar at the end of the road, the tap of shoes and a black top that sparked his brain, that set off sensors of love in his mind, signaling to his aching heart that it wasn’t done mourning the loss of the only thing that seemed to make life worth living.

When you lifted your head, Harry knew for sure it was you. Your eyes were puffy and your hair less kept than normal, but you still shined brighter than anything else on the road. Your best friend stood in front of you, holding your hand as she pulled you across the street. And it really was a tug as your limbs seemed to not want to move. But you entered the restaurant on the corner without much protest.

Harry felt his chest tighten at the sight. He wanted to run to you, to beg you to forgive him, to come back to him and love him again, but the gentleman’s code ran through his head, and having no ties, no relationships, was a large part of what made the organization successful. A collective of spies with nothing to lose is much more useful than those who hesitate. He had to do this to make the world a safe place for you. And so he watched with sadness as the slumped shoulders and tear-stained cheeks he caused disappeared into the restaurant just beyond his grasp.

And with his head held high and your engagement ring still weighing down his breast pocket, he continued on his way

Kingsman – Day 381

Harry collapsed in a ball on the jet, his hands still covered in the blood of Agent Kay who had so valiantly sacrificed himself to secure the team’s safety. The bomb at the World Cup stadium was disarmed and disposed of, another normal day to any excited fan, and another happy headline to add to the wall of the home Harry had just bought in the part of the city you had always dreamed of calling home.

Maybe he had hoped he could at least have the pleasure of seeing your head in the produce aisle of the grocery store or imagining he had just missed you by a few minutes at the underground station. But really it was just that Harry needed to play pretend. In the year since he had joined Kingsman, he had seen more evil than all his years at war. And to come home to a quiet neighbor, a charming flat, a home cooked meal and families walking down the sidewalk, cleared his mind better than any other distraction.

Right now he needed that distraction more than anything.

Hours later, and completely numb, Harry found himself in his kitchen, pretending like everything was normal. But nothing was normal about this life he had chosen.

He had normal, with you.

Harry tried to cook himself dining, to play music to distract himself. He even put on a movie, a last resort gesture for him if there ever was one. But nothing cleared his head of the sight of Kay slumped over and pool of blood under his body. Or the image of thousands of fans walking just over that spot an hour later like nothing had occurred.

Harry threw on his robe and took slow, long strides up his stairs. He collapsed in his bed and closed his eyes, but the images still remained. The bed felt wrong somehow: the blankets too scratchy, the mattress too firm, the pillows still holding their shape from such light use, and more than anything the warmth of your body and the thrill of your lips soothing him from his nightmares were starkly absent.

He wanted to go home.

His eyes sprung open. The clock beside his bed flashed midnight. Before he knew it, his slippers were on and he was sliding down the hall into his office.

As he sat at his computer, beside him resided that same picture of your face that he brought with him to the Kingsman manor. You were smiling so bright and it was motivation enough for him.

But not today.

Harry booted up the machine, went through the login processes Merlin had set up for him, and soon he had access to every CCTV camera throughout the city. Harry’s fingers typed in the coordinates to navigate to the cameras that pointed towards the front of your new apartment. You had moved a few weeks after Harry left, not that that surprised him. You had picked the place with your joint needs in mind and more room than was necessary for one person. Plus, the memories… so many memories.

He found your window, two stories up and right above the door. Your lights were off. You were safe. You were sleeping. The world was turning as normal for you. Harry smiled.

But then two figures walked into the frame. Harry recognized your form immediately, though the figure beside you was new. He was tall and lean like Harry but his attitude was confidence and charisma in a way Harry always felt he lacked.

Harry watched as you walked up the stoop and looked down at the well-dressed man. This hands were in his pockets but as you spoke, he lifted one to play lightly with your wrist, a move so intimate that it formed a lump in Harry’s throat. And after a few more seconds, the man pulled your forward and into a kiss that seemed as passionate as any you’d ever shared with Harry.

It seemed like minutes, though Harry knew it had only been seconds, before the man pulled away, his fingers dancing with yours as he made his exit. Harry watched you wave at the man’s retreating form and then felt the knife push deeper into his heart as you smiled bliss-filled to yourself as you fumbled with your keys.

Once you shut the door, Harry powered down the computer. He grabbed the photo of you from his desk and tossed it hard against the wall, cracking the frame in two and sending glass flying. Harry was fuming; consumed with a rage he hadn’t felt in years. He was so angry, with himself more than anything, for hoping that you might stay in mourning a little longer. He had wanted you to move on, deep in his bones he had prayed for it more than anything, because if you did it would make his choice justified. But even deeper, he had hoped you would pine forever, so on nights like tonight, when things became too stressful, he could run to you and find solace in your arms once more, let your laughter heal him, your kind words reassure him, and your body erase the pain.

But your life would not wait for him. There was no going back.

With some stabilizing breaths and a hard punch into the most stable part of the wall, Harry began the work of cleaning up the mess that was the one remaining piece of you in his home. He swept up the shards and put them in the bin along with the photo of you which all the mess had once enshrined. He needed to leave you behind, just as you had left him.

But upon seeing you thrown away, your face discarded among dust and debris, he just couldn’t do it. He pulled out your photo and tried his best to wipe away what scratches now littered its surface. He tucked your photo away in his filing cabinet among his mission briefings, safe and secure.

You may have not needed Harry anymore but the time may come when he needed you.

Kingsman – Day 710

Harry failed to prevent a car bombing in Bosnia. Your photo came out of its hiding spot one more time.

Kingsman – Day 1001

A plane is hijacked in Brazil. Harry opened the cabinet.

Kingsman – Day 2484

A sleeper agent assassinated. A peak in the drawer.

Kingsman – Day 3111

The death of Lee Unwin. The reminder of your face.

Kingsman – Day 8851

The death of Harry Hart. Nothing more.

Kingsman – Day 9245

“I know it is against the Kingsman rules, having a relationship—“ Eggsy said as he paced around Harry’s home office, still completely frazzled about how to handle the current state of affairs. Harry had just returned to him but Kingsman as they knew it was not the same. The protocol here was so unclear and the only man Eggsy could rely on for guidance seemed to be a shell of himself these days. But at Eggsy’s words, Harry cut him off, a quick movement of his head that let Eggsy know he had said something that broke the fog.

“When I was shot, you know what I saw?” Harry’s eyes were already gleaming with tears at the reminder of his near-death experience.

Eggsy merely shook his head, urging his friend to continue.

“I saw Y/N,” his voice was raw with emotion as he tilted his head upward to the only piece of newspaper on Harry’s walls that wasn’t a front page. Instead, it was tiny cut out from the Wedding section of the Telegraph, a beautiful face smiling brightly as a rather dashing man, not too dissimilar to Harry, stood behind, the date on the page well over a decade previous. “The love of my life, a person I haven’t held in my arms in over twenty years, but one I still love to this day.”

Eggsy looked away from the newspaper to Harry’s face. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he was swallowing over and over, waiting for the words to find space in his throat.

“Probably doesn’t even remember me anymore. Married, has a family, runs a business. I stopped looking into things a decade ago. But still, they are the closest I’ve ever had to something worth dying for. And I’d still die for them. I nearly did.”

Harry lifted his eyes to look at Eggsy in earnest, “In that moment, Eggsy, all I felt was loneliness… and regret.” Harry choked on his words and Eggsy felt the emptiness in his own soul acutely.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Harry cut him off, wiping at his own eyes with a new resolve, “I lost my chance. But you haven’t. Just know that having something to lose makes life worth living.”

Harry stood and walked towards his desk and opened the lowest draw. He pulled out a tiny velvet box, unmistakable to Eggsy as to its contents.

He handed the box over to Eggsy without meeting his eyes. Eggsy opened it to reveal a beautiful pave diamond ring with scrollwork detailing along the elegant gold band.

“Why—“ Eggsy started but the way Harry couldn’t meet his eyes explained everything.

“Let’s go get your girl.”

With a nod, Eggsy sprung out the door and down the stairs of Harry’s home. Before Harry could follow, he took the steps he knew too well to the old filing cabinet in the corner. He hadn’t bothered with paper files for missions in years, but the filing cabinet served another purpose in his mind. He pulled at the bottom drawer, to the single manila envelope that contained the frayed photo of your face, some 25 years younger than he knew you probably looked now, but just as happy and enthusiastic as he believed you always would be.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said as he shed the last of his tears. He placed you back in your folder and back in the home he had built for your memory – the external storage of his heart – and left his study in pursuit of Eggsy.

Kingsman – Day 9504

Harry smiled from his seat at the main table overlooking the dance floor of Eggsy’s wedding. He had entertained himself for quite a bit chatting with Tilde’s parents and his new friends at Statesman. But now, from where he sat, taking in all the details of the place settings, the floors, the music, and the happy couples spinning circles on the hardwood, he couldn’t help but picture the bright and festive events you were planning when he started down this path with Kingsman.

You had narrowed down the venues to a handful of places and had already made quite a few decisions about aesthetic. Harry had cared so little, as long as he got to call you his spouse at the end of it all, that you had tasked him with planning your honeymoon. He had never told you about the tickets he had already booked before you gave him back his ring or the extra vacation days he had managed to negotiate with your boss behind your back.

It didn’t matter. It was all a wash anyway.

But at his mind wandered, his thoughts wistful about the life he could have led and the happiness he may have found beside you, he failed to notice Eggsy take the seat beside him.

“You think too much, Harry,” Eggsy said, passing a stiff drink his way. Harry didn’t bother asking what it was but shot it back in a single gulp regardless.

When he set back down the glass, Eggsy passed a manila folder across the table, filled to the brim with papers.

“Consider this a best man gift from me,” Eggsy said, his smile growing just a little cheeky as he sipped his own drink.

“I’m supposed to get you a gift, I’m fairly certain.”

“You being alive is gift enough.”

Harry went to open the folder but Eggsy’s hand stopped him, pulling Harry’s eyes upward to meet his.

“If it isn’t too late for me, it’s not too late for you,” Eggsy said, and with a pat to Harry’s wrist added, “It’s about time for the Gentleman’s Guide to change, don’t ya think?”

And Eggsy stood up and walked away.

Curious, Harry opened the folder and on top sat a photo of you, the pose almost the same as the one secure in his home but the wrinkles at the corners of your eyes and the laugh lines along the corners of your lips gave away the passing of time.

But you were still breathtaking. God, you were breathtaking.

Harry pushed the tears in his eyes down just a little to find your marriage certificate, nothing he hadn’t already known, but behind it he found something a new. Six years ago, a divorce filing and court paperwork documenting just what a cheating bastard your husband had been. Harry knew he shouldn’t be happy that life that treated you so poorly, but part of him felt justified. He thought that man was too cocky for his own good, too sure of how handsome he was and of the power he had over you.

But it seemed you turned out alright. A fat settlement came your way and you bought a house just a tube stop away from his own home. Your work was thriving, your most recent pictures seemed to depict many a fun night out with a handful of friends, and some charity work too, exactly the kind of person he remembered you being. He had been doing his best to keep the world a good place for you, and you had been doing the same, even if it wasn’t for him.

But it was the last few documents that really got to him: security footage from outside your house, the camera able to see into your kitchen. And beside your sink, in the place it always had been, hung a picture of Harry holding you tight in his full regalia. A shot mark marred the middle of the photo, but the intention was still clear. And in a series of photos, Harry could make out your form in the kitchen, your finger moving to your lips, and finally you touching his face the way you had when he was a recruit. And for the third time in his life, his chest was so tight he thought he wouldn’t be able to breath.

Maybe some days you needed him, too.

Harry didn’t think. He just moved. He left the wedding and the folder, his friends and his life, and an hour later he found himself in front of the address that had been listed as your home. The lights were on and in the kitchen he could see the faint outline of frame that he just knew held his own face.

He walked the steps, tears already threatening to leave his eyes and wet his cheeks. His heart was beating faster than it had in years but he didn’t take it as a sign to stop but rather a sign to keep going.

And so he knocked.

When you opened the door, your face was just as soft and vibrant as he remembered. Not a single mark of age made you less beautiful, but just enhanced all the lovely parts of your bone structure his fingers spend years memorizing. You were still in your work clothes except for your shoes were soft slippers covering your toes in a strange combination of serious and comfort that made Harry smile. This was you all right, in front of him and still the same as the person he fell in love with so many years ago.

“Ha-harry?” you gasped as your eyes moved up and down his body, settling on his eyes. He realized then how silly he must look too in his wedding attire at this odd hour of night, but then again the man you remembered was often in uniform.

Harry tried his best to smile more but he simply couldn’t. His lips quivered and his mouth grew dry. All he could do was nod in affirmation.

He watched as your shoulders fell and your hands moved forward hesitantly to touch his face.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, gently brushing at his skin. The feel of you was still magnetic, smooth and soft and warm, pulling him into your orbit.

“And I you,” you said, laughing at the realizing that this conversation had happened once before. You laughed too, though it was more of a hiccup between your tears. His hand reached for your cheek on instinct, wiping away the tears that collected there.

After a moment of just staring, moving closer and closer, unsure of what was right or real, you pulled away.

“Do you—do you want to come in?” you said with hesitation, quickly gesturing to the open door behind you and the faint sound of television going in the background.

Harry felt the butterflies collecting in his stomach at the sight of your beautiful face staring at him once more in the flesh, the manifestation of endless nights alone in his bed.

“I would.”

And with that you grabbed his hand, unsure until he wrapped his fingers once more around your own, and walked in into your home.

As the door shut behind him, Harry felt the large chunks of his broken heart that had been severed since he took in that crestfallen look on your face the night he left slowly begin to sew themselves back together. And come back together they would in time. What was twenty-six years, when you get to spend our whole lives together?

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver, @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites Harry Hart tags: @un-education, @lexicon04, @bananzaa, @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness, @newconnorwhodis

#harry hart #harry hart x reader #kingsman #kingsman imagine #harry hart imagine #kingsman the secret service #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Fifteen

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

June 31st, 2017

Patton was stunned. This was the first time he had come outside his room to get a glass of water himself after bedtime and his mom was watching a show with lots of yelling, and blood.

He made sure he was as quiet as a mouse as he got his water, but he couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination at the scenes playing out on the TV screen. There was a man in a funny dress, who was being called a judge. There were lots of people in suits, and lots of gruesome pictures.

Was that what the world was like when bad things happened? Lots of blood and men in funny robes and horrible people being chased after by police officers? He scurried back to his room, drinking his water but not feeling very good all of a sudden. He looked over to Virgil, sleeping in the bed on the adjacent wall, and shivered. He hoped that Virgil never saw what he just did. And he hoped that both of them never had to go to that “court” place the pictures were being shown.

February 20th, 2019

Patton was nervous. He and Virgil were dressed in twin polo shirts; Patton’s a light blue and Virgil’s a deep purple. They had to be somewhat dressed up today, because they were going to be in court. Patton had never been in a real courtroom before, and the judge sitting at the huge chair didn’t look super super nice. But he put on a brave face. Virgil was already close to having another panic attack, so he had to be the brave one for both of them.

Their mother and Charles sat across the way from them, a table set up for them and the fanciest lawyer they could buy. Mister Emile and Mister Remy had also gotten a lawyer, but they couldn’t afford one with the track record that their mom’s apparently had.

The judge was droning on, asking questions to the adults, and reading over reports. And then, Patton heard his name. “Patton Sanders?” the man asked.

Patton sat up straighter and resisted the urge to gulp. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

The judge motioned for Patton to step up closer to him. “Would you please come up here? I’d like to ask you a question or two personally. As well as your brother.”

“Could...could we come up together, sir?” Patton asked timidly. “I don’t like being away from Virgil, and he doesn’t look so good even with me next to him.”

The judge nodded. “Both of you may come up at the same time,” he allowed.

Patton stood and nudged Virgil up to a standing position, and the two made their way up to the judge. The man standing by the judge told them where to stop and Patton shuffled on his feet as the judge hmm’ed and looked over reports. “It says here that you told Detective Reagan you would run away if you were sent back to your mother, is that right?”

Patton tried to ignore the offended gasp his mother gave behind him. “Yes, sir. I love my mom, but...but I can’t live with Charles...uh...I mean, Mister Baker.”

“Why not?” the judge asked.

Patton opened his mouth, but no words came out. Virgil stepped in. “He drinks, sir. A lot. And when he drinks he breaks things and yells at us and sometimes hurts us. No one ever sees the bruises because they’re all hidden by clothes, but I think the nurse at school took a few photos once when my ribs were bruised, and that one time Patton got hit with a soccer ball in PE right over where Charles kicked him two nights before.” Virgil sent a dirty look to Charles as he said, “I hate that man and never want to live with him again. But either we go or Charles goes, and Mom won’t leave Charles.”

The judge looked at both of them. “I do see some pictures of bruises in these reports,” he muttered. “And you both feel comfortable with the Picani’s?”

“Yes, sir!” Patton and Virgil chorused. “They haven’t even raised their voices once at us,” Patton continued.

“And they make sure that we have enough food and they don’t drink the way Charles does. I’m not sure they even drink at all, actually,” Virgil added on. “They haven’t where I’ve seen them, at the very least.”

The judge nodded, and noted something down. “Very well, boys. I assume you would rather stay with the Picani’s, then?”

Patton nodded as Virgil replied, “Yes, sir.”

The judge nodded. “You both may take a seat.”

Patton and Virgil walked back to Mister Emile and Mister Remy. Patton sat between Virgil and their mom and Charles, so his brother didn’t get the brunt of their nasty glares. He resisted the urge to squirm as the judge continued to look over the papers. “Very well,” he eventually said. “After considering all the evidence, I will be granting custody of Patton and Virgil Sanders to...”

There was a brief pause as the judge looked over everything one last time, and Patton felt like he couldn’t breathe. Virgil’s eyes were wide and terrified, and Patton knew he probably wasn’t much better. It seemed like even the ticking of the clock had stopped.

“...The Picani’s,” the judge finally said. “Court dismissed.”

He banged the gavel and Virgil and Patton whooped, hugging each other and crying in sheer relief. The man standing by the judge led their mom and Charles out, their mother yelling all the way, but Patton and Virgil paid her no mind.

Patton was still crying as Mister Emile and Mister Remy-their new dads-got packed up and were talking with their lawyer. Eventually, Mister Emile and Mister Remy led him and Virgil outside to the minivan, and it suddenly hit Patton. He never had to see his mom or Charles again. No longer would he be blamed for not being nice to Charles, no more would he and Virgil have to hide in their closet from an alcoholic stepfather. They were free.

Virgil looked about ready to pass out; it seemed like the realization hit him as well. “Pat, we never have to go back there!” he exclaimed. “We’re safe!”

Patton gave him a huge grin. “I know! No more Charles! No more yelling! I can barely believe it!”

“Believe it, baby!” Virgil yelled. “We’re officially adopted!”

Patton giggled and Mister Emile and Mister Remy were looking at them fondly. “You boys ready to go home?” Mister Remy asked. “School’s out for the day, and Logan and Roman should be back.”

Virgil and Patton looked at each other before looking up and nodding, various affirmations leaving their mouths. Now not only did they both have one brother, they had three! Three brothers! Patton couldn’t believe how excited he was! He could be Patton Picani, once the paperwork came through!

He scrambled into the back of the van, where the booster seats were, happy squirming all the way. Virgil sat across from him, beaming. “We’re adopted!” Virgil exclaimed.

“We’re adopted!” Patton parrotted.

“Adopted!”

“Adopted!” Virgil threw his hands in the air and whooped. Patton victoriously banged his feet into the empty seat in front of him, laughing all the while.

As they started to wind down off the high of knowing they were safe from Charles, Patton started to cry again and Virgil looked like he might pass out at any moment. “Man, I’m beat,” Virgil mumbled.

“You and me both,” Patton agreed, wiping at his tears. “That was really scary.”

“Yeah. Had you ever seen a courtroom before?” Virgil asked.

“I saw them on one of mom’s shows once. There was a lot of blood in it,” Patton admitted. “I was scared they were gonna do something like that with us, too.”

Virgil shuddered. “I’m glad they didn’t. When did you see one of mom’s shows?”

“I was getting water one night and she didn’t hear me, I guess,” Patton said with a shrug. “I never told her. I was too scared.”

Virgil nodded knowingly. They both knew how their mom would react. Telling Patton he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed, that she wasn’t responsible for what they saw once they decided to disobey her rules. Ever since she had gotten with Charles, the blame game never stopped. And usually it landed on Virgil or Patton’s shoulders.

As they got back home-and that was a weird thought, they were finally home-Logan and Roman came out the front door. Patton could hear them the second Mister Emile opened the door. “Are they here? Did you win? Do they get to stay with us?”

Patton and Virgil got out of their seats and flung the side door open. “Why don’t you ask us yourself?” Virgil exclaimed as he jumped into the open.

As he landed on the ground, Patton laughed and jumped out too. “We’re staying!” he exclaimed, whooping in victory.

Roman cheered and came over, high-fiving both of them and hugging Patton tight. Logan stood there, beaming like he hadn’t since his own adoption was finalized. Patton grinned back and as they all went inside, they chattered about what they would do now that they were staying, and the move, and anything that came to their heads, really. They were just so happy that they got to stay together.

Patton yawned and stretched, and Virgil poked his side. “You know that if you’re tired you can sleep, baby bro? No one will wake you up for at least half an hour.”

“I know,” Patton yawned. “But I don’t wanna sleep. I just got back home.”

“You might want to rest soon, though,” Logan said. “After all, tonight’s a school night.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t take naps right after school!” Patton shot back. “I wanna do things!”

“Well, you could always help us pack up stuff we won’t need immediately until after we move,” Roman proposed. “Neither Logan nor myself have touched your room because we didn’t know if you’d be staying or not. Now that we know, we can start packing.”

Patton hadn’t even thought of that! “Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed. “And because Virgil and I don’t have today’s homework, there’s nothing stopping us from doing that!”

Virgil shook his head. “Packing up is gonna be boring, though!”

“Maybe, but at least we get to pack, right?” Patton asked. “If we didn’t, we would be back at Mom’s.”

Virgil considered this new information and frowned at Patton, who read his expression loud and clear: I guess you have a point.

Patton grinned and shrugged easily. Well, duh!

Virgil rolled his eyes and muttered a half-hearted, “Shut up,” before running up the stairs.

Patton clambored after him and they got to their room, the one across from the master bedroom. They walked into their room, looking around. There was little to pack, because Patton and Virgil had been living out of a suitcase in case they had to be sent home. Now that they got to keep everything, though, they had to pack all of that extra stuff up. Patton went for the sentimental things, first: the books Roman had shared with them, and the drawings and writings Logan would occasionally indulge in and pass over to him and Virgil. Roman and Logan would occasionally draw together, but usually wound up teasing each other on their subject matter, so most of the time they did it alone to avoid distraction.

Virgil, he noticed, was going for their clothes, and his blanket and Patton’s kitty. The things they needed more than wanted. “You know, Virge, you can get some of the stuff you want to keep, too.”

“Maybe,” Virgil said, “But I want to make sure we have everything we need first. What if we run out of room?”

“Well, we can ask for another box,” Patton said, like it was obvious.

Virgil shook his head. “Maybe we’ll get one, but what if we don’t? We have to be ready, Pat. We won’t be running away again, I don’t think, but that doesn’t mean we can get whatever we want.”

Patton felt a little deflated at Virgil’s explanation. “Maybe if we run out of space we can pack some of our stuff in Logan and Roman’s boxes?”

“Maybe,” Virgil said. “But I don’t want to take that chance, you know?”

Patton sighed. “Yeah, I don’t either. That’s why I’m taking this stuff, though. It’s important to me.”

Virgil nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “And we’ll be okay. We just have to remember that we might not always have people there for us except each other.”

Patton sighed and nodded. Much as he hated it, Virgil did have a point. “Yeah. I wish we could, you know, know that people would be there, though. And I do think that Mister Remy and Mister Emile will be there for us when possible, but...”

“It’s not always possible,” Virgil said, nodding as he finished Patton’s sentence. “I know.”

Patton scratched his arm and continued to pack. “Do you think of Mister Emile and Mister Remy as our dads?” he asked Virgil.

Virgil considered. “Maybe a little,” he said. “But I don’t know if I want to tell them that just yet. I don’t want them flipping out or getting mad, like Charles did.”

Patton nodded and agreed softly. Sure, Mister Emile and Mister Remy weren’t Charles, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t freak out if they heard. Maybe he and Virgil could save that for later.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #virgil sanders #our creations #danger gays

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letswritefuriously · 5 years ago

Text

Episode 1x1 of My Nameless WIP

Part one

(I still need a name for this WIP btw if anybody has some ideas.) Now, I know that this post is gonna be long, but don’t be daunted! Please just check it out, see what you think! There’s gonna be three parts to this episode, so if you wanna keep reading, ask to be tagged/follow me! (Preferably both). Remember to give me feedback!

Scene 1

It’s late at night; probably about 10pm. It’s a full moon, so the night is bright and the sky is full of stars. An old, abandoned house sits under the milky way, two stories high with faded white paint, one of those triangular pointed roof above a window thingies. The leaves of a low hanging tree blow in the wind, brushing a tall, spiky fence.

Running very fast, two people vault over the fence, making it rattle, and then continue to run towards the house.

Scene 2

There is a shot from the inside of the two people entering the house. They flick torches on, and reveal themselves to be ALICIA (African America, 19, short, stylish) and ETHAN (African American, 19, tall, nerdy but sill cool TM). ALICIA pulls out a phone and begins to record.

A shot from the camera’s point of view; it focuses on Ethan, who waves. The expression on his face is almost condescending; as if he is playing with a small child.

ALICIA (turning the camera to selfie mode): Haunted house number 8.

ETHAN (off screen): I’m really beginning to think this is a waste of a gap year.

ALICIA (smacking him): Shut up. (Turns back to the camera). Up the stairs?

ETHAN (off screen): This isn’t a freaking vidchat!

ALICIA (ignoring him): Up the stairs! (She wags a finger at the camera). If I fall through some floorboards, you’re paying for my not-so-free healthcare.

ETHAN (Muttering from some distance away): She got no money.

ALICIA flips the bird at him, and then flips the camera back around so that we can see him walking up the stairs, which creak ominously. He is clearly oblivious of the profanity.

Scene 3

ALICIA is receiving a boost from ETHAN up through the pointy window thingy (oh god someone tell me what they’re called please). She clambers onto the roof, and then offers her hand to ETHAN, who ignores it and pulls himself up.

ALICIA: I can do that. Just so you know. I’m just smart, and didn’t want to fall.

ETHAN (snorting): Sure you could.

ALICIA: Just because I don’t have to go around displaying my fragile masculinity-

ETHAN: You must have VERY fragile masculinity, as it’s not there at all.

ALICIA shoves him, and he nearly falls off the roof.

ETHAN (after he has recovered): If I fell, you wouldn’t be able to blame it on Tahlia, and you’d be the one paying.

ALICIA: Yeah, ye- Oh! Tahlia! She pulls her phone back out, and hits record. (To ETHAN). Scooch, you gotta be in the picture. (She turns to the camera). Hey Tahlia! We’re back!

ETHAN: ‘Sup.

ALICIA: It’s confirmed! She opens her mouth, and then looks at ETHAN expectantly.

ETHAN: Do we have to do this is every time?

ALICIA: Yes!

TOGETHER: Not haunted!

ETHAN: Just go to sleep, trash monkey. If this wreck ain’t haunted, I’m sure your bedroom isn’t either.

ALICIA: What he said. Love ya! I miss you so much!

ETHAN (half-heartedly): Bye!

ALICIA finishes the recording.

ALICIA: I’ll send it in the morning, she’ll be asleep by now.

ETHAN: For God’s sake, she’s 10, if she’s NOT awake she’s a freaking wimp.

ALICIA: Hey, you know how strict Mom’s rules are.

ETHAN mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘sleep before you see her drunk and sobbing’. If ALICIA hears him, she pretends not to.

ALICIA (sighing): I do wish I could see her again.

ETHAN: You could just say sorry, you know.

ALICIA: I meant Tahlia, not Mom.

ETHAN: My point still stands.

ALICIA (as if she hadn’t even heard him): I don’t even remember what we were fighting about now.

ETHAN: ‘Course ya don’t.

ALICIA: I’m not gonna be the first to apologise, though.

There’s a long pause. After a few moments, ALICIA leans her head on ETHAN’s shoulder.

ALICIA (yawning): It’s only like eight years until she graduates, anyway... Her eyes drift shut.

There is a very, very long pause.

ETHAN: Yeah. Only eight years.

And we cut to black.

Scene 4

Title card.

Scene 5

The screen is suddenly split open by bright rays of bold sunlight. The camera catches on what appears to be a military base; multiple chain-link fences, a big lot of khaki jeeps and black SUVs, plane hangars and large, threatening buildings.

It seems to be abandoned; empty plane hangars, no patrols, the cars are covered in layers of dust.

The camera refocuses on a small figure, lying on a hill about two-hundred metres back. The figure is wearing dust-coloured clothing over what appears to be a black wetsuit.

Looking closer at their face, we can see that it is ARI (androgyne, 19, badass). His eyes are completely focused on the facility ahead of him. At his waist hang two boomerangs, unadorned and wooden. He raises a pair of binoculars and scans the facility.

ARI (speaking into a UHF radio): Agent queer, reporting nothing at 1400. Over.

VOICE (crackling over the UHF): Ari, cut the s***. What’s up?

ARI: What I said; literally nothing. There is literally nothing going on here. Over.

VOICE: Quit it with the overs. Please tell me you haven’t been staring at the bloody clouds for eight hours.

ARI looks over at a half-empty pack of marshmallows and a lighter next to him.

ARI: Uh... not exactly.

VOICE: Goddammit Ari, this is exactly why you lost you squad.

ARI (innocently): I thought I lost my squad because I was ‘a danger to everyone around me.’

VOICE: Same difference.

There is a pause.

ARI (bringing the UHF very close to his face): You gotta say f***ing over, man. How else am I supposed to know if you’re done?

VOICE: You just wait until I f***ing pause. Like I did just then; you didn’t say over.

ARI: Well, s***.

VOICE: Moooooood. You can hear somebody yelling at the VOICE from the other end of the UHF. Once it’s over, VOICE begins to giggle a bit, but manages to hold most of it back. So your point is there’s nothing.

ARI: Yep.

VOICE: Great, that’s you done for today. The next shift’ll be there in about half-an-hour-

ARI: About that.

VOICE: Oh goddammit, here we go.

ARI: It’s empty. I’m going in.

VOICE: S***. Indistinctly, you can hear him calling for his superiors. Ari, you know what happened last time-

ARI: Yup. And I literally see no downside-

VOICE: You got demoted-

ARI: Aaaand now I don’t have to work with anyone else. He begins to take off his khaki shirt.

VOICE: Look, you little s***, we’ve got another team on the way-

ARI: That other team isn’t going to get here for an hour. There is literally nothing you can do to stop me, so, you might as well just not tell anyone at your end.

Indistinctly you can hear VOICE talking to people on the other end.

ARI: I hate you. He is now wearing only the black wetsuit. He chucks the UHF into the dirt next to him. He grabs one last marshmallow, stuffing it in his mouth, and then army rolls forward. Almost immediately, his body begins to shake, and then shrink. Before he has completed the first complete roll, he is a desert mouse. He quickly scampers down the hill.

The camera comes to focus on the abandoned UHF.

VOICE: Ari? Ari!

Scene 6

The wind blow dust through the deserted military base as ARI hops through the chain link in the form of a mouse. He rests for a moment, and then continues to hop along.

There is a shot of an empty hangar, which ARI hops through. He comes to a door. With a nervous glance around, he becomes himself again, and then jiggles the handle. It’s locked.

ARI reaches into his-

ARI: S***. No pockets.

He drops his hands and turns to slowly look around the hangar. The camera catches on a toolbox on the other side.

There’s a pause.

Scene 7

ARI is now holding a piece of wire and a small metal tool. He picks the lock. A second later, he jiggles the handle again. The door opens this time, and he slips inside. The door closes behind him, and for a few seconds, all you can hear is the wind, as the camera gets further and further away.

Scene 8

A perfectly sterile, completely white hallway stretches away from the camera, until it intersects with another corridor. The corridor is lined with doors, and the top half is separated from the bottom half by a long silver line across the wall. There is complete and utter silence, for a very long moment.

A fly buzzes across the corridor.

Silence.

It buzzes back. The moment it reaches the other side, there is a sound similar to that of an electric fence zapping you, and ARI tumbles onto the floor. As he stand up, he shakes himself and shudders. Apparently being a fly is not too pleasant.

He looks around and then raises a hand to sliver line on the wall. With a stifled yelp, he withdraws it; a close-up on his knuckles shows them to be an angry red.

ARI: Daaaaammn. They thought this out. He closes his eyes and concentrates, but nothing happens. Kill me now.

He walks down the corridor, making no attempt to sneak; with the black of his wetsuit like clothing jarring against the white walls, he’d be spotted immediately, and nobody is here anyway.

He tries the first door he comes across. It’s unlocked, and he steps inside.

Scene 9

Inside is a white room just like the last, except for the fact that in the centre, it has a table filled with people. They all look up at ARI.

ARI (immediately adopting a serious face): Oh! Sorry I didn’t realise a meeting was in session, I’ve got an urgent message for the-

Twenty guns aim at his face.

ARI: Oh... He laughs nervously. ...I wasn’t aware that you were in the business of killing your employEES-

His voice rises to a yell as twenty safeties click off and manages to shut the door just as bullets slam into it.

Scene 10

ARI sprints down the hallway, and all the EXECUTIVES pour into the corridor and take aim. ARI turns down a corridor to the sound of reports.

ARI: Come on, shift dammit!

He does not shift. The camera cuts to a tracking shot of the EXECUTIVES running after him, trying unsuccessfully to shoot and run. One speaks rapidly into their phone.

EXECUTIVE 1: We got a security threat, Building 3, Sector 5-

Cut back to mid shot of ARI bursting through a door.

Scene 11

ARI bursts into the sunlight of the Hangar he came into originally, only now, it’s filled with at least fifty SOLDIERS. They haven’t looked in his direction yet though, and mid-leap, he shifts into a fly again.

The EXECUTIVES burst through the door he came through a few seconds ago, EXECUTIVE 1 still babbling on the phone. All the SOLDIERS guns train on them, and they put their hands up.

EXECUTIVE 2: Don’t shoot! Our spy is here somewhere.

EXECUTIVE 1 (still on the phone): ...orders to kill on sight...

EXECUTIVE 2 (to EXECUTIVE 1): This is a suspected C-O-N, give the lockdown code.

As EXECUTIVE 1 begins to rattle off numbers, the camera cuts to a close up of ARI as a fly, listening avidly.

EXECUTIVE 1: Two-three-oh, six-five-two-

ARI’s fly-face contorts in horror as he realises what is happening, and he buzzes off-

EXECUTIVE 1: Six-three-one, two-seven-five.

A fine, glittering silver and grey powder sprays explosively from the ceiling, and there is another zapping sound, as, with a yelp, ARI sprawls onto the tarmac near the opening of the hangar.

ARI (squeaking): Hi! Bullets begin to fly and he ducks around the corner. As he runs, he curses. Oh-crap-I’m-screwed-ohnoohno-I’mgonnadie- The camera cuts to the chain-link fence rapidly approaching. OH S***! He squeezes his eyes shut and jumps-

And slow motion, bird’s eye, low angle, mid shot, high angle, extreme close-up on his foot-

Right as it shifts into a jaguar’s paw.

The shot speeds back up to normal motion as ARI’s paws leave the ground, propelling him into the air and over the fence in one, graceful leap, the SOLDIERS slowing down before they run into the fence. EXECUTIVE 2 presses his face to the chain-link, curling his hands around the wires with a feral snarl, baring some very inhuman teeth. His face, inexplicably, is covered in fresh blisters.

Scene 12

SOLDIERS from a different section of the base stream through the gates, but the jaguar that is ARI is already at the crest of the hill where he was staking out the base earlier. He grabs his cloths and backpack in his teeth, and, with one last, longing look at the pack of marshmallows, continues his sprint.

A fleet of jeeps peels out of the base’s front gates, their trailers filled with SOLDIERS.

ARI stops running and shifts back to human form, looking desperately over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching jeeps. He slings his bag over his shoulders and reaches down, pulling the camouflage cover off a motorbike.

The fleet of jeeps appear, roaring, over the top of the hill, churning up dust.

ARI kicks the bike to life, shoots one last look over his shoulder, and guns the engine, speeding off.

The SOLDIERS aim the sights of their guns around the side of the jeeps and take aim, but he has too much of head-start. He speeds out of sight down the side of hill, and he’s away.

There’s a close-up of ARI’s face; he’s smiling.

ARI (under his breath): Ha, suckers. Then, no longer under his breath; Ha! Suckers! HE grins and pumps a fist in the air-

Scene 13

ARI flops onto tiny bed in a cruddy motel room.

ARI: Stupid, stupid, stupid! He balls his fists over his eyes and then tears them through his hair. This is why nobody likes you. Tears begin to stream from his eyes, but he doesn’t make any sound. You’re so – I’m so stupid.

He pulls a pillow over his eyes and shakes with silent tears. The camera slowly zooms out.

And we cut to black.

ARI (VO): I’ll find a way to fix this.

Scene 14

ALICIA is sitting on her laptop at the kitchen table in a log cabin, completely motionless, except for her fingers, deftly moving over the trackpad.

An extreme close-up on her face show that she’s frowning, chewing her lip with urgency. Her eyes look like they’re about to flood with tears, but she sniffs violently and blinks several times, tilting her head back. She sits like that for a moment, but is interrupted by her phone chiming.

She starts and immediately picks it up, her whole face lighting up with joy. It’s only a new alert though, and her shoulders slump. She chucks it back down on the table, and then flinches at the thump it makes, quickly picking it back up to make sure the screen isn’t cracked.

She sighs and looks back at her screen, slouching back in her chair.

ALICIA (barely audible): Come on, you know this.

ETHAN walks into the room, leaning over her shoulder. She swats him away and tilts the screen so he can’t see.

ALICIA (sort of playfully, but not really): Hey! Don’t look over my shoulder!

ETHAN: You’re literally just doing your mojo stuff, what’s the big-

ALICIA (irritably): It’s psychology, not mojo.

ETHAN (holding his hands up): Okay, okay. I thought you said you were going out...?

ALICIA: I AM, okay? Just get off my back, I gotta finish this.

ETHAN (backing off): I’m not on your back. Calm down, you’re already a few days ahead of the course.

ALICIA: I just need to-

ETHAN reaches over her shoulder and closes the laptop.

ALICIA (practically apoplectic): Hey! No, no no, you can’t do that, it hasn’t saved my progress-

ETHAN: You were on question one.

ALICIA: I had work to do! I NEEDED to-

ETHAN: Hey, calm down. No you didn’t. Go relax or something.

ALICIA (eyes practically popping out with rage): What, be like YOU?! Just never do anything and never get anywhere? ETHAN flinches, and ALICIA’s face falls as she realises what she’s said. I didn’t mean it-

ETHAN (eyes on the ground, muttering): It’s okay. It is clearly not okay. Just... He hands her his wallet. ...Go nightclubbing or something. Take a break.

ALICIA smiles nervously.

ALICIA: I’m really sorry, I’ll just-

ETHAN: It’s fine.

ALICIA: I feel really bad though... You know I didn’t mean it, right? How can I make it up?

ETHAN: Just go and have some fun. He folds her fingers around his wallet.

ALICIA: Um... ETHAN shoots her a glare. Fine. Let’s make a deal. If I ‘have some fun’, you finish up your college applications.

ETHAN: You drive a hard bargain. He thinks. Fine. (Playfully) Just get out.

ALICIA (walking to the door): Going, going!

ETHAN: And don’t drink!

ALICIA: You told me to have some fun!

ETHAN: Non-drug-involved fun!

ALICIA shuts the door behind her, and the smile on ETHAN’s face immediately falls. He collapses onto the chair that ALICIA was sitting in, and stays there for a long moment.

A second later, he reaches over the table and grabs himself a bag of chips. He shakes his head and grimaces, opening the laptop again.

Scene 15

ARI walks into a shop, with a sign above it dubbing it ‘face the rainbow’. Once inside, it is clear that it is a gay bar – people sitting in couples, fairly dark, with a drag queen singing in the back.

ARI immediately takes a seat at the bar.

ARI: Cheapest thing you sell, thanks.

THE BARTENDER nods at him, and turns around to get it. STRANGER, clearly drunk, flops down on a seat next to ARI.

STRANGER: Hey, handsome. My buddies bet me I wouldn’t be able to make conversation with the finest guy in the bar. Wanna buy some drinks with their money?

ARI: Great, I’ve been running off cheap beer for a month. (To THE BARTENDER) Make that the most expensive thing, thanks! (Back to STRANGER) So you know, though, I’ve only agreed to conversation. Don’t get any ideas.

STRANGER (putting his hand on ARI’s thigh): So what... what are your plans for tonight?

ARI: Nothing, although I might commit a felony if you don’t remove your hand from my leg right now.

STRANGER: Come on... don’t be like that... Tonight’ll be better if you re-

ARI: I’m not into that. Move your hand.

STRANGER: Come on, why would you be at a bar if you didn’t want to?

ARI: To have a freaking drink. This is your last chance, mate; Move. Your. Goddamn. Hand.

STRANGER: I’m sure you’ll want me once I-

Quick as a flash, ARI grabs his middle finger, jerking it back suddenly to the sound of a large crack. STRANGER yelps. THE BARTENDER looks up suddenly.

ARI: What? He wouldn’t move his hand.

STRANGER staggers off. THE BARTENDER continues to look back and forth between them.

ARI: Can I please just have a drink?

THE BARTENDER shrugs and continues to make the cocktail.

ARI: Oh, he even left his wallet here. How nice. (To THE BARTENDER) Make that two of those, thanks!

Scene 16

ALICIA is riding her bike out of the camping ground where the log cabin they were renting was. It’s twilight, and she’s going to have to ride fast if she wants to get to her destination before dark.

The bike’s wheels squeak on the road; it’s the only sound that cuts through the evening air. A bird gives a single warning, and everything is quiet. And then-

There is a crash from a little way into the woods, nearly making ALICIA fall off her bike. She puts her foot down to steady herself, and there’s another crash. Then silence.

ALICIA: ...H-Hello? The silence continues. Hello? A strange music comes from the woods, halfway between moaning and screaming, causing her to yelp and drop her bike, crashing, to the ground. The music stops. ALICIA takes a step forward. Who’s there?!

She takes another step off the side of the road, but then pauses.

ALICIA (berating herself): You’re not a white kid, Alicia. She picks up her bike, and shoots a longing glance at the woods-

A deer comes springing out of woods and misses her by a few metres. ALICIA shrieks, and then stops, looking around to make sure nobody heard. The silence presses in once again.

ALICIA (under her breath): If an abandoned house isn’t haunted, then a... She looks around. ...Deserted, creepy-ass road isn’t haunted. She gets back on her bike and continues to ride.

With her back turned to the woods, ALICIA doesn’t notice that the trees have been lit up a strange, eerie green.

Scene 17

ALICIA padlocks her bike to the bike-rack, humming ‘We will rock you’ by Queen, and occasionally singing a lyric or two under her breath.

ALICIA (half-humming, half-singing): Buddy... big noise... blood on your face... big disgrace...

She walks along the street for about enters the bar; a different drag queen is singing, and she waves hello. She walks up to the bar.

FEMALE BARTENDER (the shift has changed it’s been two hours do you really expect the BARTENDER to stay there that long?!) (Flirtatiously btw): Aren’t you a little young to be in here?

ALICIA (also flirtatiously): Who’s checking? She leans in. Who says I’m here to drink, anyway?

FEMALE BARTENDER wags a finger.

FEMALE BARTENDER: Don’t pretend you have any clue how to flirt. But she’s already getting her a drink. Just sit over there – she motions to the back – so that nobody... important sees you.

ALICIA: I think the most important person already has seen me.

FEMALE BARTENDER: I mean cops, you jackass. Sit your ass down.

ALICIA winks and walks away with her drink.

Scene 18

Camera cuts to ARI, who is practically asleep on the bar top. He arrived at ‘Face the Rainbow’ at 6pm for the tail end of the happy hour. It’s now 8pm, and THE STRANGER had a fair amount of money in his wallet.

To say the least; ARI is as drunk as a skunk.

He’s getting some pretty strange looks from onlookers. There are about three empty glasses next to him; clearly, FEMALE BARTENDER stopped bothering a little while ago.

FEMALE BARTENDER (coming over): Are you meeting someone, or are you just depressed?

ARI (raising his head): Ugh... He blinks multiple times... I think I might be meeting... someone?

FEMALE BARTENDER: Dude... I stopped giving you drinks like an half-an-hour ago, why the f*** are you still here? She thinks for a moment, and then becomes concerned. Do you have a way to get home?

ARI doesn’t move from where he put his head back on the counter, except to raise his thumb. FEMALE BARTENDER sighs.

FEMALE BARTENDER: So... you ARE meeting someone... have you even looked to see if they’re here?

ARI raises his head to give her a look with the most sarcasm it is possible to fit onto a human’s facial features. After a moment, he realises he hasn’t, and then looks around the room slowly, like a turtle.

ARI: ...Nope... They said they’d be here at... He taps his fingers on the bar top. Six hours? He frowns. What time is it now?

FEMALE BARTENDER (chuckling): It’s 8. Go home.

ARI nods slowly, and looks around the bar again. He’s just about to stand up, when he whips around again, nearly falling over. The camera catches on ALICIA, sitting the corner.

Thanks for reading! Follow me and ask to be tagged for more content! All feedback is appreciated!

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writers #writblr #screenplay #creative writing #original writing #original content #amwriting #letswritefuriously

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im-whatchamccallit · 6 years ago

Text

Wicked pt.3// Xu Minghao (Seventeen)

Part 1|Part 2|Masterlist|Request Guidelines

Pairing: Xu Minghao x Reader

Genre: Demon!AU, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Mentions of death/suicide (no details of it, though), suggestive content, sexual harassment (slightly detailed but not really), a bit nonsensical towards the end

Words: 7.3k (This shit is fucking loooonnnnngggg)

(A/N: Hey, kids, I’m back. This is the third (and possibly last) part of the Wicked series. I’m sorry it took so long to upload and sorry if the grammar is off but, c’mon, this thing is 15 freaking pages, it’s was 4am, and my eyes were starting to hurt ;-; Anyways, request are open and I love you)

You sighed bitterly as you typed away on your desktop, nodding unconsciously to your coworker as she said a quick goodbye, leaving you more alone than you already were in your small cubicle as you tried to fix the mistakes of your superiors. None of this seemed to be your fault but, being the head of the finance department, it was your job to fix it.

You ignored the faint footsteps approaching you but suddenly froze at the feeling of two hands on your shoulders, massaging them gently while sneakily drifting lower, stopping just beneath your collarbone. You took a shallow breath before typing once more, trying not to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction from you today, especially since you had your plan set up to get him out of this company.

“You know, it’s getting late. Why don’t we take a break and eat out?” The last two words were an obvious sexual innuendo, something that fitted the sleazy male’s profile perfectly, yet, the way his breath collided with your ear made you involuntarily push your chair into him as you stood, disgust written on your face as you tried to remain focused on the plethora of numbers on your screen.

You loved your job, mostly because you were great at it and it seemed to be as easy as breathing for you, but your boss, Andrew Kim, made it unbearable.

He was a transplant from New York, a big shot from the big city that your company couldn’t wait to have on board. He’s been cocky since day one, annoying and harassing everyone in sight but his work was phenomenal, his charisma and methods of persuasion astonishing. So, when he became your company’s COO in as little as a year, it was a devastating, but expected, surprise.

Ever since that day, he’s been more forward with his actions, groping you and your colleagues with no shame, whether you were alone or in a full room, no man or woman was left untouched by the hands that could make or break your careers.

“If you haven’t noticed, sir, the reports you took from my desk before they were complete have suddenly made their way back because someone blindly approved them despite the fact I never submitted these forms.” Each word came out more venomous than you intended but it’s only because you had so much more to say.

How this entire form was filled with errors of both commission and principle, how your entire department could have been fired if this wasn’t caught in time, how he needs to move his hands away from your hips before you grab the closest pen to stab them.

‘Just breathe, (Y/n), you’re almost finished. You just need to email this out and you’ll be fine.’ You thought to yourself, your hand gripping the mouse as the other typed out the last two digits.

Your eyes watched as it all autosaved, a smile on your lips at the small victory but it fell as quickly as it came, the sudden realization that his hands had made their way to your butt and was squeezing ever so gently causing you to angrily face him. You couldn’t hit him, you were still technically on the clock, but you couldn’t just stand there and take his shit.

“I’m not sure you realize that sexual harassment laws in Korea are synonymous to that of America.”

Your words had no effect on him as he stepped closer, watching as you moved back to avoid him only to be trapped between your desk and his chest. Your face tried to remain stern and bitter but the way your eyes shakily stared into his, the way your grip on your desk tightened in anticipation and fear as your legs crossed in a sad attempt to keep him away, it showed he was more than just your boss, he was a predator. And you were the small lamb he was going to devour.

“You see, (Y/n), the thing about those laws are that you need hard evidence to make them work. And, seeing as I know you better than you think I do, I know you have more than enough.”

You swallowed hard, your body relaxing in defeat at his words as you stared at him for any sign of a bluff but he was serious, a small smirk growing on his lips as he reached past you, your eyes trained on one another as he gripped the small webcam tapped behind your monitor, angled just enough to capture you and anyone who entered the confined space and enough to his the bright blue light that indicated that it was on and recording. Except it was off, the previous events not documented for the case you wanted to bring against him for you and your colleagues.

“Maybe if you hadn’t shared your plans with people who’d give you up in a heartbeat, it would’ve worked. And maybe, if you didn’t make every password the same, or think your computer was safer from me than any other in this office, you’d still have all those little files with all the videos and messages you were collecting.”

You could feel your eyes burning with unshed tears, a lump in your throat as you pursed your lips to hold back a sob. You took a deep breath, trying to hold yourself together, not wanting to look worse than you already did in this moment before regaining your voice.

“So what now? You’re gonna fire me?” Andrew looked away as if he were thinking, knowing he could make you leave for good to save his reputation or use your indisposed submission to his advantage. The latter was risky but what did he have to lose? His boss loved him too much to fire him.

“I have a meeting first thing in the morning and I may or may not bring up your behavior and how you’re a liability to this company. You’ll be in my office an hour before then and I’ll give you a job to do. Do well and we’ll see if I change my mind.” The tone of his voice made it obvious this was completely sexual, your mouth threatening to spill the swears you’ve been holding back for so long as well as the sobs building in your throat and chest, your fist clenching and unclenching as you tried to decide if punching him would be the smartest choice. But you loved your job. You needed this job. So what else could you do?

“Okay.” You mumbled softly, avoiding his eyes.

“Okay, what?” God, he was a dick.

“Okay, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He finally stepped away from you, giving you the space you desperately needed as you readjusted yourself, standing straight and no longer cowering in fear.

“Well, if you’re done here, you can go. And, remember, 8am sharp, my office.” He spoke in such a mocking tone as he began to walk away, leaving you in a state of mixed emotions, mostly anger and devastation.

You didn’t bother to shut down your desktop as you quickly grabbed your messenger bag and jacket from the hooks on your wall and rushing to the elevators, impatiently waiting as your teeth sank into your bottom lip, your eyes burning as your vision blurred, your mind racing with thoughts of what just happened and what’s to come, everything in your body screaming at you to breakdown but to also stay strong but the main thing you heard was your heartbeat, ringing in your ears as your anxiety kicked in, drowning you in utter panic as you tried to find some way to calm down but nothing was working.

You were so focused on staying calm and sane that you didn’t realize time had passed and you had been moving mindlessly, already sat in your car and parked in your driveway almost as if someone transported you there.

Minghao waved his hand over the laptop screen in his lap as he heard heavy footsteps and various keys clanging together just outside your door. He had been watching you all day, curious as to what your day to day life consisted of, only to be appalled and shocked by the end of it. Sure, he’s cut back on making your life miserable, trying hard to win you over to favor him, but now he knows there’s only one person who could hurt you more than he ever could, your boss. A strange bubble of bitterness mixed with an overprotective rage filled him at the idea of someone he thought was so strong and unassailable being broken down to nothing more than a sexual favor by someone so immoral.

The soft squeaking of the door’s hinges alerted him, causing him to place the laptop on your coffee table as you stepped inside, shutting but not bothering to lock the door. Your weary eyes met his face, causing you to roll them at the thought of having to deal with another bastard you couldn’t stand for the night. Instead, you ignored his stares as you kicked off your shoes and tossed your belongings on the ground, just wanting to crawl into bed and forgot about the pain you called life.

“(Y/n).” Minghao called to you softly, your body pushing past his as you maneuvered down the halls to your room.

“(Y/n).” His voice increased as he trailed behind you, your face forming a scowl as you felt his warmth right behind you, a hand suddenly gripping your forearm to stop you from moving.

“(Y/n)-”

“Can you leave me the fuck alone?! Why are you even here? Can’t you see I just want to be alone right now?!”

Minghao has seen you in many ways. Sarcastic and bitter, happy and drunk, even embarrassed and flustered from the first time he accidentally walked in on you using the bathroom. But this you, the one with glossed over eyes, a swollen and shivering bottom lip, and an angry yet timid and pleading voice, this wasn’t you. Not one that he wanted to see, that is.

You felt his grip loosen slightly, hoping he would finally listen and let you rest but, instead, he stepped forward, wrapping both arms around you tightly as you weakly tried to fight him off, his arms folded around your neck to drown out your protest as he slowly shut his eyes, a small breath slipping from his nose.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, (Y/n).”

Of all the blows he prepared for you to throw at him, his body unnoticeably flinching in fear of a punch or kick, he didn’t expect for your arms to wrap tightly around his torso, a loud sob slipping through your lips as you finally broke down. Besides sleep, this was what you needed most for the night: comfort. Someone to tell you it’ll all be fine even if it wasn’t, even if they didn’t know your situation. He may be a demon but, recently, Minghao’s been showing a more human side of himself, one that you were surprisingly beginning to warm up to.

Andrew watched the hands on his clock tick by, his head tilting in disappointment as they finally reached 9am. You hadn’t shown up like he asked, which was a bit skeptical since you were someone who’d kill and die for your job, but your absence made his decision about your position there easier to choose.

He sighed as he stood, grabbing his files from his desk as he headed out of his office door. Everyone was working as normal, his secretary checking through his list of appointments to slowly cross off your name.

“Did (Y/n) (L/n) cancel our appointment today?” Andrew asked, the young woman peeking up at him through her thin framed glasses.

“(Y/n) (L/n) hasn’t been here all morning. It’s strange.” She said the last part more to herself, curious as to how someone so enthusiastic about their job could suddenly not show up.

Andrew let out a small hum, a bitter smile on his lips as he turned and headed down the halls of the office to the conference room, five blurry bodies visible through the opaque glass. He eagerly stepped in, watching all but one stand to greet him. It was a young man who looked as if he was too young to be in this meeting, it was for COOs and above after all.

Andrew eyed him suspiciously, approaching him with a stretched hand.

“I’m Andrew Kim, COO. And you are?” Minghao’s eyes darted down to the waiting hand before trailing back to the male’s face, his gaze sharp and piercing as neither refused to look away.

“Xu Minghao, President of this company. Please have a seat.”

The men held their gazes, one filled with undeniable hatred, the other with disbelief and amusement. Nonetheless, Andrew slowly took his seat, placing his files on the dark cherry table before folding his hands on top of them, a smile gracing his face to deride Minghao’s stoic expression.

“So, “Mr. President”, what’s the first order of today’s meeting?”

“Your employees. Any complaints? Any praise?” He watched as Andrew jumped at the chance to open the files, your name slipping off his tongue easily followed by half-assed excuses to paint you as a bad employee.

Minghao’s mind wandered to you. How you opened up to him just a few hours ago, no words exchanged as he held you until you fell asleep, even taking extra precautions to make sure you didn’t wake up in time for his plan. Behind your assholish façade, you were sweet and defenseless, something Minghao felt was worthy of protecting.

“-and, the final straw, is that we had a meeting today for which (Y/n) did not show. I believe this calls for some kind of punishment.” Andrew said matter-of-factly, eying the other superiors who only stared at him blankly, unbeknownst to him that they were brainwashed, unable to respond to any of the words he said.

Minghao sighed, catching the male’s attention as he stood from his seat to pace behind it.

“My (Y/n) is probably one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met.”

“’Your (Y/n)?’” Andrew scoffed, eying the lanky demon that took small yet threatening steps towards him.

“You see, I’ve been watching you, Andrew. How you harass the workers here, threaten them, force them to do things to and for you in exchange of keeping their jobs. And you were planning to do the same to (Y/n) today, correct?” Minghao stood next to him, towering above him as he waited for a response.

Andrew abruptly, trying to not let the man towering him intimidate him with that knowledge, his eyes frantically finding the other CEOs and chairmen.

“Are you going to believe this man? He has never stepped a foot in this office until today!”

“They can’t hear you, Andrew. Even if they could, what could any of them do about it?” Minghao’s voice dropped an octave as he stepped back, glaring at Andrew as he let his anger take control instead of his logic.

Andrew gasped as he suddenly felt his airways clog, his eyes widening as he tried to grasp at the many stone-faced men for help, feeling lightheaded the further he struggled, Minghao’s eyes watching as he collapsed to his knees, crawling and gasping for air he couldn’t receive.

“I guess I’m just like you, Andrew. Abusing my power. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on you.”

Andrew let out a large cough, panting and wheezing as he felt the oxygen return to his lungs, his bright red face and tear-brimmed eyes staring back at Minghao who was suddenly in front of him, his eyes wide as he wondered who this man was and what he was capable of.

“I’d have so much pleasure in firing you-“

“F-fire me! I’ll leave! Please, j-just, don’t h-hurt me.” Andrew stuttered out, bowing to his demonic junior.

“I’d love to but I’d have more pleasure if you died. We’re both evil guys, Andrew, you should’ve saw that coming.”

“Don’t kill me! I’m begging you!” He stared up at Minghao, tears slipping from his eyes as he pleaded, his hands clasped tightly together in hopes he would change his mind.

“I’m not killing you. You’re doing it for me.”

As if a switch was flicked, his tears stopped falling, his body had risen from the ground as he stared at Minghao expectantly.

“Go to the roof, jump off. Consider this your termination, Mr. Kim.”

Minghao watched the mindless man tread out of the room and to the elevator, finding his seat and staring at the others who would have no memory of the day’s events.

“You are all dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” They spoke in unison, standing one by one and exiting the office like zombies, the heavy door slowly coming to a close as he was left alone, listening closely to the complete silence before a loud crash was heard, quickly followed by loud screams and chatter from outside, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He slowly stood, readjusting the black suit he wore before checking the clock on the wall.

9:36

You should be up by now.

He shut his eyes and instantly found himself in your bedroom. You were nowhere in sight, the duvet and sheets left a mess but your phone laid right by your pillow, dinging every few seconds with messages from colleagues informing you that Andrew was dead.

Minghao didn’t have time to check when he suddenly heard soft sobs and sniffling, making his way down the hall to your living room to find you sitting on your sofa, a hand covering your mouth as you listened to the news reporter explain the details of his death, Minghao slowly falling at your side, surprised at how fast they covered the story.

“Andrew Kim, the 37-year-old COO of Hahm-Myung Corporations, was found dead just a few minutes ago by bystanders here outside of the company. Police on the scene believe this was a suicide and suspect no foul play. This story will be continued tonight at 6.”

Minghao quickly turned off the television, pulling you into a hug despite his indifferent feelings. Where you actually involved with Andrew in some way? Is that why you were so emotional to his death?

“This is all my fault. If I had just went to work, none of this would be happening. I can’t be-“

“This isn’t your fault, (Y/n). He was a terrible person who did terrible things to you and so many other people, maybe he just couldn’t live with the thought of that. But don’t say that this is your fault.”

Your eyes stared blankly at the black screen, your head slowly raising to stare at Minghao as you involuntarily sniffled once more.

“How’d you know that?” The question threw him off guard until he realized what he said, his mouth slightly agape as he tried to think of an excuse, letting you slip from his arms as you waited for his response.

You were opening up to him, finally giving him your trust and lying when you probably already knew the truth would just ruin that so coming clean could only set him back by so much.

“I’ve been watching you while you were at work. I just wanted to see what you dealt with every day and, honestly, if I didn’t, he’d still be alive and he’d still be making your life a living hell. I know I’m a pain in your ass but I’d rather be the only one, not with him.”

The confession and statement alone was mind-boggling, your eyes squinting at him as you tried to make sense of what his real motive was but all you could focus on was him saving you, being there for you when you didn’t ask him to, when he didn’t need to be. You’ve always wanted Minghao dead, or gone at least, but haven’t really took the time to notice how nice he’s been lately, from subtle things like holding a door for you to something as large as vengeful murder.

You slowly crept forward, tilting your head just slightly as you slide closer to him, your lips slowly pressing to his as your hand found his cheek. He was confused but excited, his wide eyes slowly shutting as he leaned into you, allowing his lips to react and move steadily against yours, his arm wrapping around your waist to bring you closer.

To say you haven’t seen yourself in this position before was a lie, to say you both weren’t a little scared was an ever bigger lie. But for some reason, it felt right, addictive. It made you wonder why you waited so long to do this, memories of bickering and fighting disappearing as you both slowly began to part, your eyes slowly fluttering open to stare at his slightly doe-like eyes, a shy smile playing on his lips as yours remained parted.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

That was over six month ago.

Since then, you two were completely different people. The walls and boundaries you built for one another quickly falling as you coexisted, almost as if nothing had happened in the past. You were inseparable, living as a normal couple and facing all and any obstacles that come with relationships, the major one was meeting each other’s families.

Your parents remembered Minghao from your friend’s weeding months prior, excited to see you both still together after so long, smiling and laughing with the demon boy although you couldn’t tell if it was his natural charm that pleased them or his mind manipulation. Overall, the experience was positive, everyone loving his presence and charisma, pulling you aside and begging you to not ruin it.

Today was your turn.

Minghao watched as you pulled the black blazer on over your navy blue button up shit, your eyes trying to determine if you should stick with your black skinny jeans or go with something lighter, shrugging it off as you dug through your closet for a pair of black sneakers.

“(Y/n), are you listening to me? This is really important.”

“I am, Hao. You wrote all the rules down for me, I memorized them, and I know not to leave your side because they may kill me but you trust them enough not to. I have to stay clear of Mingyu, Hansol, Chan, and Jihoon or be near them with someone else. Don’t do anything Wonwoo or Jeonghan ask me to, and don’t laugh at any of Seokmin’s jokes.” You said plainly as you gripped the doorframe of your closet to pull on your Vans, letting out a small sigh as you stood with a smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” Minghao stood and grabbed your hands, a smile unconsciously forming on his face as he watched you cutely shut your eyes, finally understanding how to deal with his convenient way of transportation.

Your body felt as if he were tingling, some spots burning slightly as he transported to his home, every gathered in their human forms as to not frighten you. Seungcheol was the first to stand as he approached you, a polite smile on his face as you slowly opened your eyes, amazed at the large and homey space.

“You must be (Y/n). My name is Seungcheol.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You spoke timidly but loud enough to not seem wary.

Seungcheol motioned to the other 8 men sitting around as you removed one hand from Minghao’s, the other he refused to let go.

“These are our brothers: Jeonghan, Hansol, Junhui, Jihoon, Seokmin, Joshua, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan. The others are… somewhere.” All gave a mix of eager and limp waves, some muttering a slight ‘hello’ and you bowed politely.

“Wait, I’m here too!” You heard a voice call from the Kitchen, gaining your full attention as a tall black figure emerged.

“And this is Mingyu- What the hell did I tell you?! ‘Human form’, Mingyu!” Seungcheol screamed at the poor boy.

His demon form was simple but terrifying to most. He was gigantic, his head touching the ceiling which caused him to crane his neck to fit into the room. His body and face were completely black, leaving him to appear as a shadow with visibly grotesque claws and piercing red eyes. He shyly complied, returning to his “normal” appearance for you as he apologized profusely, your hand waving him off as an awkward laugh slipped through your lips.

“No, it’s fine. This is your home. If you’re comfortable in the form, please, stay in it. Don’t let me effect the way you live.”

Your words were sincere and sweet, Mingyu was almost tempted to take your advice. But, from the glare Minghao and Seungcheol gave him, he choose otherwise.

“That’s okay. I’m going to finish with dinner.” He quickly retreated to the kitchen, leaving everyone to awkwardly stare at one another as the situation was fairly new to all of them.

You never thought you’d be in a demon’s home nor did any of the demons there, present or not, think they’d ever have a human in their home. They all had the natural urge to toy with you, see how much they could drive you insane before you snapped but, for Minghao, they decided to behave, watching you carefully to see what made you so special from the millions of other humans they or Minghao have encountered in their centuries long lifetime. Well, not all of them. After all, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan were the demons of tricks and mischief, it was in their nature to act out.

“(Y/n), can you check the temperature outside? I was thinking of going to the store before dinner.” Wonwoo said in an innocent tone, his eyes staring into yours as you hesitantly stopped your head from nodding.

“This is hell. Shouldn’t it be hot?”

“No. Our weather works the same as Earth. See for yourself.” Jeonghan said finding your eyes as a small smirk grew on his lips.

A small voice in the back of your mind was whispering ‘door’ repeatedly, something in your body making your limbs twitch to turn in its direction. But you remembered what Minghao said: don’t do anything those two said. You were obviously hesitant and mind manipulation was their only way to make you act.

You giggled as regained your focus.

“I can’t be manipulated, you know? Once you know someone’s controlling you, you can stop it. So, what’s outside that door?” You asked, an amused smile on Wonwoo’s face as Jeonghan’s smirk remained.

“Hell hounds. They’re the only creatures in hell that can smell human flesh and want to eat it.”

You nodded thoughtfully, feeling Minghao’s hand tighten around yours slightly as he glared at the two. It was their nature, what did he expect?

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” You asked shyly, Seungcheol looking to you with an apologetic smile.

“Of course. Upstairs and down the hall.” You bowed slightly and successfully pried your hand from Minghao’s awkwardly making your way up the stairs and away from the suffocating environment.

“I should fucking kill you.” You heard just as you reached the top of the stairs, chuckling at the failed attempt at whispering before heading down the hall.

You mentally groaned as you noticed there were 9 doors, two being the bathroom and the others possibly bedrooms or closets. You stared at each one skeptically, Seungcheol’s vague description not much help as you found yourself at the third to last door on the left. Your hand hesitantly gripped the doorknob, twisting pushing the door open and stepping inside, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It was a bedroom.

The room had a strange red lighting to it, making it both terrifying yet stimulating. The curtains were black as well as the bed sheets, very few items bringing different colors to the room. If it was less ominous, it could pass for a normal room. A television, a bed, a desk covered in materials for writing as well as a laptop, a shelf of books and other items.

“Like what you see?” You gasped again, turning to see Minghao behind you as he slowly moved past you, grasping your hand to pull you further inside with him.

“So this is your room? Doesn’t really fit how cute you really act.” You joked.

His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, his lips tugging into a small smirk as he leaned forward, burying his face into your neck to allow his nose to graze the crook of your neck, slowly dragging upwards until his lips were at your earlobe. You yelped and pushed him away at the feeling of his tongue sliding inside of the canal, staring at him in disbelief as he just gave you a smug look.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“You know I have sensitive ears and I especially hate tha- Wait, what��d you just call me?” You stood up straight, your hands curling into fist as he moved closer to you.

“I said ‘babe’. You’re acting weird, (Y/n).” He brought his hand towards you and you only stepped back, scowling at the now obvious stranger.

From the moment you and Minghao began dating, there was only one nickname he used with you and it was ‘bubba’. You two used to laugh and joke about some angry asshole that tried to start a fight with him for parking in the last spot at the movie theater, calling Minghao ‘bub’ every few seconds. It was hilarious. So much so you used it in your conversations to remember the moment, Minghao eventually recreating the word as he grown accustomed to using it for you.

“Who the hell are you?” You asked threateningly, not noticing the small snake wrapping around your leg and slithering up your back, its small head resting on your shoulder.

“I can be anyone you want me to be.” He spoke, his face changing from Minghao to Joshua, from Joshua to Andrew, from Andrew to some man you didn’t recognize, from that man to Park Bo Gum.

His face continued to shift to various people, the smirk still evident on his face as you heard a soft voice in your ear. It was your voice.

“He’s toying with you, (Y/n). No one’s here to protect you. You have to protect yourself. He thinks you’re an idiot, he thinks he so smart and funny. A punch to his jaw would be hilarious wouldn’t it? You know you want to. It’s the only way to make him stop.”

You let out a yell as you mindlessly let your fist collide with his face, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble away from you, his head whipping up to glare at you menacingly as he held his face. It was Soonyoung.

“So much for not being able to be manipulated.” You heard an unfamiliar voice from behind you, turning to see someone you’ve yet to meet. He probably didn’t live here.

You let out a loud scream before a series of footsteps rushed to the doorway, Minghao, Seungcheol, and Junhui staring at the scene before them. It was almost like a renaissance painting.

“Hi, (Y/n). You found the bathroom?” Junhui asked, earning a glare from you, your anxiousness turning to utter anger as each demon tested you more and more.

“Soonyoung, Chan. Dinner. Now.” Seungcheol said, watching as they both moved past you without another word or glance, all of them heading back to the dining room and leaving you and Minghao alone. What was he, their leader?

A nervous frown was on your lips as you moved closer to him, your hands fumbling together as you tried to form words.

“I know nothing happened and I know you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” He said, already forgiving your silent but unnecessary apology.

He grabbed your hand and led you downstairs where everyone sat at the table, watching you and Minghao as you found your seats.

Mingyu carefully handed out the various bowls and plates on the tray to everyone, your eyes examining the brothy meal as he placed it in front of you. Meat covered with scallions and paired with rice and kimchi. You hesitantly grabbed your chopsticks before digging in, everyone staring as you picked at the small chunk of food.

“What is this?”

“Korean goat stew. I guess humans aren’t used to eating goat meat?” Jeonghan asked, his eyebrow raising slightly as if to challenge you.

You sighed in relief and quickly at the meat, letting out a small hum at the tenderness of the goat and the warmth of the broth, your eyes meeting his as you gave a small smile.

“Tons of humans eat goat, including me. And, no offense, but eating goat is the most normal thing that’s happened since I got here.”

That comment alone made them realize you were human. Of course they were treating you as a demon would any other human. But if they treated you as a demon would a demon? Most of them never fought or played tricks on one another, only in joking matters. Minghao did ask that they behave and treat you normally but for a human to be treated like any other creature in hell? It didn’t make sense. The way Minghao lovingly stared at you, playfully wiping some broth from your nose as you laughed together made them realize it was possible somehow, so why not actually try instead of half-assing their attempts.

After the twelve men passed the idea around telepathically, making sure to keep Minghao unaware, they settled on who’d speak first.

“(Y/n),” Jihoon spoke for the first time all day, your eyes widening as you faced him.

“We never asked about you. I think it’d be nice to know a little more about you.”

You cleared your throat as you readjusted yourself in your seat, an awkward smile and laugh leaving you as you looked at the group, all eyes fixed on you.

“Uhm, sure. I’m not really sure where to begin. Is there anything you’d wanna know specifically?” Almost in an instance, various response came, all completely different from the next.

For the first time that night, you felt at home. No one was a threat to you and they smiled and laughed with you as you answered and told stories, even the ridiculous ones about humanity for Joshua who would never get to experience it himself. You even got to know the others better, realizing that entities of hell were just the same as humans.

Jeonghan was nurturing to his roommates while Seungcheol was the strict but sometimes joking one. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin were hilarious together and apart, although one of Seokmin’s jokes nearly killed you. Vernon, Mingyu, Junhui, and Wonwoo were quiet and strange, off in their own world but coming back just long enough to grace the conversation with something weird but relevant. Joshua and Jihoon were actually sweethearts despite their positions in life and quite talented from what you were told of them. And Chan was observant and insightful, having almost all of their personalities in his off but somehow remaining his own person.

Everything seemed good and well as you laughed together before Joshua’s words pierced into your heart and caused everyone to freeze in fear.

“It’s too bad the only way we got to meet you was because of your deal.”

The deal. The one you and Minghao made almost eight months ago. You both were so caught up in each other that it was a complete afterthought but, now that he’s mentioned it, it was eating away at you. You could always pretend that the deal was never made, but then every time you think of how you two came to be, think of how the only reason Minghao came into your life was because you offered your own, it’d probably torture you.

You felt his hand grasp yours beneath the table, your eyes glancing at him to see he was already staring at you with a sad but reassuring look. Everyone scattered, some clearing the table while others moved to give you both space, anything to get away from the tense situation before them.

“Come with me.” Minghao said in a hushed voice, you both standing as he guided you down the hall just beneath the staircase, seven doors present on either side of the hall, one bathroom and six bedrooms.

Minghao opened the furthest one on the right, allowing you inside first. The room was lot brighter than Soonyoung’s but just as minimalistic. The small plush Kermit the Frog by his pillow caused you to let out a small, amused noise but it wasn’t enough to take your mind off of what needed to be addressed.

Once he shut the door, he stepped closer to you, finding his arms around you as a way to comfort himself more than you. He thought about your deal every day for the past six months, looking for loopholes and ways to get out of it but he couldn’t be summoned by anyone else, or even accept them, if your deal wasn’t complete. He hadn’t even eaten another human’s soul since he met you. In all honesty, he was starving, but taking your soul? It was a quick and easy solution but you couldn’t bring himself to do it, not at this point, that it.

“Let’s forget about the deal. We don’t have to talk about it or anything, okay?” He said softly, hoping you’d just nod and that’d be that, but you couldn’t.

You looked up at him with a sad smile before moving back from him, your hands moving to his as you swayed them between your bodies.

“Minghao, have we ever lied to each other?”

“Tons of times.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the response.

“I mean, since we’ve been together. We’ve never broken a promise to one another.” You sighed and looked at your fingers, your thumb brushing over his surprisingly warm skin as your eyes began to water.

“When we made that deal, I wasn’t ready to die. I lied about not being happy for such a long time, trying to do everything to get out of it, because I was afraid. But, if we just ignore all of this, it’d the first and biggest lie of our relationship. Even if it took almost a year, I won’t break that promise to you.” You stepped forward, your eyes scanning over his face as you let your tears finally fall, your smile never disappearing even at the sight of his own sadness, a small sniffle coming from his.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Hao. It’s okay.” You gently released his hands to bring them to his face, wiping away the tears on his cheeks only for him to grasp onto them as if they could save him and you, like you were both drowning and they were a raft to keep you afloat.

“It’ll all be fine, Minghao. I promise.” The bittersweet words left your mouth with ease. It was frustrating.

Minghao was thinking way too much and speaking way too little, his eyes watching as mouthed ‘it’s okay’ to him as you took another step closer, preparing yourself for your own death for his sake. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes slowly as he continued to massage your hands, dragging them to his lips to place small kisses to them before letting go, opening his eyes to see your own shut, your lips twitching in anticipation as you tried to hold back a sob.

He placed one hand on your cheek, the other cupping your neck as he lowered his lips to yours, pressing his thumbs into your flesh as he inhaled slowly, your lips parting for a gasp as your body began to grow hot, your chest heaving at the pain as your esophagus burned, an almost transparent stream of baby blue air escaping you and flowing into his mouth. The movement was slow but painful, causing you to whimper at the sudden weakness you felt, your knees buckling beneath you but Minghao’s hands trying desperately to hold you up. He was tempted to speed the process up, to consume your soul in its entirety, but the one thing he learned from spending so long with you was how to stay humane. He reluctantly shut his lips, the remaining trail of your soul reentering your body as he placed a small peck to your lips.

You gasped, eyes bloodshot as you grasped your throat, panting loudly while Minghao’s arm held you, keeping you from collapsing on the carpeted floor. You looked around the room, finding his shocked face as he slowly sat you on the bed.

“Shit,” He breathed out as his eyes were trained on your hair, your free hand trailing to it as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“What happened?” Your voice was weak, cracking on the last syllable.

“I don’t care about the deal, I just want you here. Alive. I don’t need to make contracts with other people to get souls, I can just take them if I wanted to. But I wasn’t going to let you die, Bubba. I couldn’t.” You smiled slightly at the sound of your nickname, glad to be able to hear it again.

You shoved him playfully, your head resting on his shoulder as you grabbed his left hand.

“So, that means, you didn’t have to take my soul?”

“I was actually starving, sorry.” He giggled, his face growing slightly warm at the confession.

“But, the good news is, you’re alive. But you kinda look old now.”

“What?” You sat up, staring at him before rushing to your feet, ignoring the dizziness to rush out of his room.

You began to open and slam shut each door before finding the bathroom, the lights turning automatically on as you checked your appearance. Your face hadn’t aged at all, everything the same except your eyes that were temporarily red but you noticed your hair suffered a great fate.

White. Pure white from the roots to the ends.

You gasped as you raked your fingers through it, not sure what to think of the new transformation. Was it permanent? It sure as hell looked permanent.

“We can always dye it to cover the color.” Minghao said as he stood behind you.

Holy shit, it was permanent.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face before staring back at the mirror. It wasn’t that bad, it could make it work, somehow.

“It’s fine. Let’s go down before they think you killed me.” You half-joked as you gripped his hand, pulling him along and towards the stairs.

The boys froze at the sound of footsteps, all standing to prepare to comfort their now single friend.

“It’s okay, Minghao. Maybe the timing wasn’t rig- what the fuck?” Junhui watched as you stepped closer, Minghao is tow.

Everyone looked between you both for some kind of answer, anything to explain why and how you weren’t dead and why you looked like a banshee.

“He only took part of my soul. Now, I look like this.”

“I knew it wasn’t a bad time to bring this out.” Chan muttered as he resumed pouring glasses of wine, Mingyu rushing to find a glass for you.

Seokmin sighed as he grabbed the closest glass, Joshua and Wonwoo handing out the others, you and Minghao bowing to the demonic double agent as he finally reached you.

“(Y/n), we tried to scare you away. We’ve tried to trick you, and, most importantly, we tried to kill you. And, somehow, you survived.”

He held the glass up high, giving you a small nod as everyone followed his actions.

“Welcome to the family.”

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sam-lives-story · 6 years ago

Text

#SamLives - Chapter 11

“Presenting Tonight’s Cast of Characters”

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

Jack hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he and Mark were planning on doing some collabs. In the few days that followed the initial video, they recorded a good nine or ten videos worth of content each, most of it consisting of two-player games. (Being able to record one session for two channels had its perks.) Jack still hadn’t gotten over his wariness of technology in that time. He had to steel his nerves before starting every session, had to take a breath before hitting ‘record’. He found himself frequently checking his facecam on the monitor to make sure nobody was in the background, and every flicker, every stutter, every lag in whatever game he was playing made his hands tense and his breath hitch.

Today was no different. After spending a good five minutes mentally convincing himself that his computer mouse wasn’t about to come to life and strangle him, he and Mark dove head-first into a new game of “Sea of Thieves”. It was just the two of them this time, with no time to schedule a play time with Bob or Wade or Ethan. At the moment, Jack was trying to fend off skeletal attackers while his friend dug up the buried treasure.

“Shit! Fuck! Fuckin’ bastards!” He took another swipe at the nearest skeleton, cutting it down. Another attacker was quick to take its place. “Hah! That’ll teach ye not to mess wit’ ol’ Jackaboy.”

He pulled out a blunderbuss and took two shots straight through the newcomer’s chest.

“DIE BITCHES! How’s that chest comin’, Markerino?”

Mark, who Jack now realized had been oddly quiet the past few minutes, let out only a distracted hum in response. Jack turned his avatar to look at Mark’s rather voluptuous character, only to find him standing still over the half-buried treasure chest. Jack chuckled, a little bewildered.

“Mark? Th’ fuck are you doin’?” he took a shot at another skeleton. “Are ye just waiting for it to unbury itself or–”

Thwack!

The familiar-yet-unexpected sound made Jack jump, his heart pounding in his chest as he whipped his head around to stare at Mark. The other YouTuber had turned his seat away from the desk, Nerf gun in hand, aiming at the closed door with narrowed, focussed eyes.

What the fucking–

Jack swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, his panic ebbing away to make room for amused irritation. He swiped a small crocheted Sam from his desk and chucked it at the side of Mark’s head.

“Hey! What–?!”

“Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that, shithead!” Jack shoved Mark’s shoulder playfully. “What th’ hell was that for?”

“Target practice.”

Mark’s grin was cheeky and a little mocking.

Jack blinked at him, slowly, fixing him with a look that clearly said ‘Are you fucking kidding me right now?’ He snatched the Nerf gun from Mark’s hand with a barely-restrained chuckle and brandished it in the other’s face. Mark took a swipe at it, pouting and trying to take back his toy.

“Hey!”

It turned into a game of Keep Away, with Jack holding the Nerf gun high above his head and Mark practically falling out of his chair and climbing over Jack in his attempt to reach it.

“I’ll use you fer target practice if you don’t–”

“Jack! Give that back, you asshole!"

“–get your head back in the game!” Jack suddenly whipped the Nerf gun back at Mark, who fumbled to catch it. “I’m dyin’ here!”

Mark clutched the gun tightly to his chest and retreated to the safety of his seat, pouting and hugging the toy as though Jack might attempt to steal it from him again. He stuck his tongue out childishly before turning back to his screen - and he stifled a laugh.

“Uh…” He carefully set his precious plastic weapon on the desk, out of Jack’s reach. “Not to alarm you, but I think we’re already dead.”

Jack’s focus snapped to his own screen, and sure enough, both he and Mark were now standing on the deck of a ghost ship, waiting their turn to return to the land of the living. He threw his hands in the air and flopped backwards in his chair.

“Fuckin’ DAMMIT all!” He sank in his seat with a groan, Mark’s deep giggles permeating the air around them both. “I blame you entirely for that.”

“Yeah...heh...yeah, that’s...that’s on me. Sorry, man…” Mark still hadn’t stopped giggling, his mood far too bright to be dimmed by a death in the game.

“I’m makin’ sure everyone knows it’s your fault,” Jack bemoaned from his slouched position. “I’m gonna make you buy me a fancy-ass tombstone, an’ put one o’ those shitty rhyming couplets on it…”

He held his hands out in front of him, pretending to frame the words.

“Here lies Jack Just blame his friend Whose Nerf gun brought Their bitter end.”

Mark’s only response was a slow golf clap while he pretended to be tearing up.

“Beautiful,” he told Jack, voice laced with false emotion. “Absolutely beautiful. You should’ve become a poet instead of a YouTuber. Clearly you were meant for greater things than video game commentary.”

Jack almost fell out of his chair in his attempt to chuck another Sam plush at Mark’s head.

“D’you think that cop really believed that nothing was wrong?” Jack asked Mark with a mutter later that evening.

Mark had already sent out the day’s raw videos from both him and Jack to Robin and Kathryn for editing, though only after doing a little bit of content cutting before passing them along. There were certain things that had to be cut out from their recordings that really, really didn’t need to be shared with anyone beyond their immediate group. Not yet.

“The guy from the other day?” Mark asked, looking up from his phone. “I dunno. I mean I don’t think he believed all the anonymous tips, anyway. He was trying not to crack a smile the whole time he was explaining stuff to us.”

Apparently, some of Jack’s fans had taken Anti’s appearance on the stream at face value. They had believed (rightfully so) that it was real, and when Jack went silent on all forms of social media for more than twenty-four hours after it had happened, people had started to panic. While nobody knew for sure where Jack lived, the local police station in Brighton had gotten call after call after call from concerned teens and young adults who all claimed that a YouTuber named Sean McLoughlin had almost been killed on a livestream. If it hadn’t been for the sheer number of phone calls and the video proof that looked almost too real to have been edited, Jack was sure the police would have ignored it.

But two days ago - three days after the stream itself - a police officer had come knocking on the apartment door asking if a Sean McLoughlin or a Jacksepticeye lived there.

After explaining - through stifled grinning and amused chuckles - that a lot of fans thought he had been hurt, Mark and Jack had tried to awkwardly laugh it off and explain that, no, it was just a video, and nobody had actually gotten hurt.

(Jack was wearing makeup on his neck again for recording, thank god, otherwise the bruises might have brought on some unwanted questions. As it was...)

“I dunno man.” Jack sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, sinking back on the couch. “I swear he kept lookin’ at my neck. I’m sure he watched the video for th’ sake of the calls. Probably checkin’ to see if I really got strangled.”

“Ah, quit worrying. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mark scrolled through Twitter again, reading a few more tweets before, “...and we’re sure we don’t want to get the police involved?”

Jack leveled him with a blank stare.

“Do you honestly think the police are gonna know how to deal wit’ a computer virus of a demon that came to life from my YouTube channel? I mean WE barely know what we’re doing and we’re fully invested in the lore of it all!”

Mark stifled a laugh.

“Okay, yeah good point,” he admitted. He shook his head, eyes falling back to his phone gain. “Fully invested in the lore...god, we sound like we’re trying to solve Five Nights At Freddy’s conspiracies. That’s how complicated this whole mess has become. Frankly, if anyone overheard what we were talking about in the cafe that first day I showed up, they’d probably think–”

Jack jolted upright in his seat, eyes wide and expression one of stunned realization.

“Holy shit.” He grabbed Mark’s arm and shook him a little, his movements suddenly intense and a brilliant grin splitting his face in two. “Holy shit!”

“Holy shit what?” Mark gripped his phone a little tighter so it wouldn’t go flying out of his hands from Jack’s enthusiasm.

“Mark, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

“Well - I mean, yeah, I thought we established that, but what the hell did I say?!”

Mark was rightfully very bewildered by his friend’s sudden change of mood. He gave Jack a quick once-over with his eyebrows raised, wondering if he should be concerned.

“Five Nights at Freddy’s!” Jack exclaimed. He looked far too excited and far too proud of himself for his own good.

“...Five Nights at–”

“Dude! Don’t you get it?” Jack leapt up off the couch, pacing, and Sam - who had been dozing in Jack’s hoodie pocket - poked his ‘face’ out with a sleepy blink, wondering what all the commotion was about. “This whole thing is too fuckin’ complicated right now, right? We don’t know what exactly Anti is, or how to stop him from comin’ back. He’s solid but he’s not. He’s made of glitches but - who the hell even knows what that means.”

“Okay…?” Mark just watched the Irishman pace the room, his phone long forgotten in his lap. “Where are you going with this?”

“Anti doesn’t make sense!” Jack was grinning like an idiot. He stopped in his tracks to turn and face Mark. “We know why he’s here but that only gets us so far! We need somebody who’s used to picking apart ridiculous bullshit to find the real answers, somebody who already kinda knows what’s going on.”

“Jack, you’ve lost me,” Mark said flatly. “Who are you talking about, Robin? Amy?”

“No!” Jack was talking with his hands, talking with his entire body, like he couldn’t contain all the energy that had built up inside him. “Five Nights at Freddy’s. Crazy timeline. Bullshit lore. There’s only one person I know who was able to tear that shit to pieces and make sense out of it.”

And then it hit Mark like a load of bricks, and he was on his feet too, his exclamation coming out as a loud and incredulous question in the same moment that Jack was busting out the same words.

“MatPat?!”

“MatPat!”

“Waitwaitwait, hold on–” Mark was trying to sort out his thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose while he watched Jack rush around in a frantic search for his cell phone. Mark didn’t have it right now and Jack couldn’t quite remember where it had ended up. “What the hell do you mean Matt already knows what’s going on?”

“Well, okay, he doesn’t know about Anti,” Jack admitted, his ass in the air while he leaned over the armchair in the corner to see if his phone was plugged in back there. “He knows about Sam though.”

“He knows about Sam?!” Mark’s jaw dropped.

At this point, Sam had abandoned Jack’s pocket to hover a few steps behind the Irishman, watching him with quiet curiosity. At Mark’s question, Sam let out a happy little squeak and nodded, twirling through the air a little.

“Did you tell him before you told me?” Before Jack could even answer, Mark had continued: “But he posted a video like two weeks ago about how Sam couldn’t possibly exist!”

“Well, duh, he posted that because he knows about Sam,” Jack rolled his eyes and shoved away from the armchair, detouring to the kitchen. He spoke up to be heard across the apartment. “He was tryin’ to throw people off. And I didn’t tell him about Sam.” Jack returned to the living room, cell phone in hand and a sheepish smile on his face. “He...er...kinda found out on his own.”

“How?”

“Tacos and Rachel Ray.”

Mark didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“Look…” Jack huffed and came back over to Mark, sitting on the edge of the coffee table while his friend sank slowly back onto the couch. Sam settled onto his shoulder and nuzzled up against Jack’s cheek with a quiet purr. “Sam was sick, so I brought him with me for the taco-making contest. Matt was on my team. He bumped into me, I tripped, Sam almost fell out of my hood, and Matt saw him.”

“And he didn’t freak out?”

Jack’s lips twitched into a wry smile and he looked up from his phone.

“Oh, he freaked out, but not until later.”

“Let me get this straight.” Mark watched Jack carefully as he spoke. Jack nodded and went back to shakily tapping out a message to Matt. “Just so we’re both on the same page. Sam exists, clearly. Anti exists. You, me, Robin, and Matt know about Sam. You, me, and maybe Robin know about Anti.”

“And Matt too now, sort of.”

“And Matt,” Mark agreed. “And Amy too, come to think of it. Is there anybody else who knows anything else, just in case we need to recruit people for a battle of the digital age?”

“Nope, nobody else. Don’t think so anyway,” Jack shook his head. He paused and looked thoughtful, setting his phone aside (looking relieved to get the thing out of his hands) and tapping his chin. “...though I probably should bring up that Anti mentioned being late for a date or something last time? What was the name...something...something Warfstache…?”Mark looked like he might explode

“WHAT?!”

“Oh my god!” Jack cackled, doubling over with laughter and trying not to slip off the edge of the coffee table he was sitting on. “Oh my fucking god your face! That was PRICELESS! You fuckin’ - Haha! - f-fuckin’ believed–” He could barely breathe he was laughing so hard, his laughter sounding a little wheezy.

Mark groaned and flopped backward across the couch, a low, pained chuckled escaping him.

”Oh, you absolutely piece of shit. Fuck you.”

“Y-Yeah, I - heh - I probably...haha...deserve that one…” Jack was grinning, wiping tears from his eyes.

Sam had bounced over to Mark to make sure he was okay and was now nestled on the American’s chest, Tim’s curious little eyes watching from the arm of the couch not even a foot away. The little box tumbled forward and landed right next to Mark’s head, patting his cheek softly in what Jack assumed was a comforting motion. Another low, rumbling laugh bubbled up from Mark’s chest.

“But no, to answer your question,” Jack continued once he could breathe again. “I think that’s everyone.”

“Good. Great. Excellent.”

Mark was absolutely done. Just...done.

“Ah, lighten up, Markimoo,” Jack snickered. “Consider it payback fer that Nerf scare.”

“Considering that you were implying that Warfstache is alive too, and that he and your evil twin are getting it on–”

“Hey! I only said they went on a date!”

“–I’d say we’re far from even right now.”

“Oh, fuck off! That’s totally even!”

“And what if I tricked you into thinking your Dr. Schneep guy was alive and I caught him flirting with Dr. Iplier?”

“Oh, dude, no,” Jack groaned, laughing through it. “Nooo...I mean, yeah, Henrik totally would. He’d flirt with anything that moved. But hell no.”

“See my point?”

The living room was pleasantly quiet for a long moment, save for the little questioning squeaks Sam was making from his position on Mark’s chest. Then Mark heard the buzzing clatter of plastic against the coffee table. Jack’s phone was ringing, but on silent. Mark cracked open one eye to glance at Jack, who suddenly looked a lot more tense than he had a moment before.

“...you good, Jack?” he murmured, watching the other YouTuber. Jack nodded stiffly, looking a little pale. “Is it MatPat? He calling back already?”

Jack swallowed thickly.

“Nah. It’s...just Robin.”

“Answer it,” Mark encouraged him evenly. “Go ahead. We’re all in the room with you, it’ll be fine.”

Jack nodded, the motion a little jerky, and he reached over to press the ‘Answer’ button. He quickly put it on speaker and withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned. The phone stayed sitting on the table.

“Jack?”

“Hey Robin,” Jack murmured.

Mark could see the way Jack started fidgeting the moment he heard Robin’s voice, saw his fingers tugging at the edges of his hoodie and saw the way his knee started bouncing rapidly. Like he had too much nervous energy, like it was trying to get out however it could.

“Hey! I just wanted to...you know. Check in,” Robin continued, a half-smile in his voice. “I got the videos from Mark. Why didn’t you tell me he was planning on visiting the UK?”

“That’s his fault,” Jack muttered, and a small smile made its way onto his face. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me he was stoppin’ by until he was on my doorstep. So blame him.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Robin’s words were a touch humorous for a moment. “Anyway...how’s everything going? How’s Sam?”

“Sam’s great!” Jack’s grin became more genuine, and he giggled when Sam bounced over to sit beside the phone. He was wiggling on the spot in excitement. “He and Tim are gettin’ along famously. He’s been so damn happy, Robin, I wish you could see ‘em together.”

“You can thank me later,” Mark chimed in with a smirk.

“Is that Mark?” Robin asked. “Am I on speaker?”

“Oh! Yeah, you are. Sorry. Shoulda said.” Jack chuckled softly.

“No, it’s fine!” Robin laughed a little too. “Hey Mark!”

“Hey Robin!”

“How are you doing though, Jack?” Robin’s tone had turned concerned, more strained than before. “And what the hell is going on with the whole Antisepticeye thing? I mean - I saw the stream. That–” A sigh crackled through the speaker. “I know for a fact I didn’t edit that, and it looked…Jack, it looked way too real. What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

Jack stiffened. He could feel Mark’s eyes on him, his look a knowing one. It had been five whole days since they had talked at the cafe, and while Jack had texted Robin back and forth a few times since then (in very brief interludes, as there were still moments Jack couldn’t even look at his own TV for fear of Anti jumping out of the dimmed pixels, let alone carry his phone in his pocket all day), not once had Jack brought up the livestream. Any time Robin asked about it Jack evaded his questions and changed the subject, or didn’t respond at all. He had been half-ghosting his friend and he knew it.

“Eh…” Jack cleared his throat and shrugged, though Robin couldn’t see it. “I’m fine.” He answered only half of the question. “A little worn out, but Mark an’ I have been really goin’ hard, knockin’ out tons of videos now so we can get some free time to hang out later…”

“Seán.”

And there it was, the gentle scolding that reminded Jack too much of his older brothers. Robin usually pulled that one out when Jack was working himself too hard or he hadn’t sent Robin his finished recordings yet. How Robin managed to make Jack feel like a misbehaving child every time he used it was a mystery to him...but it worked. Every damn time. Jack sighed and let out a quiet groan.

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise,” he whimpered. “I promise I will, it’s - it’s just - I can’t–” He dragged a hand through his hair, and his gaze landed on Mark. The other YouTuber had sat up in the past few minutes and was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his expression a searching one. He quirked an eyebrow at the Irishman.

“One second, Robin,” he said softly, reaching over to tap the ‘mute’ button on Jack’s phone. He watched his friend for a long moment before speaking. “Jack...I’m not gonna push you to talk to him, but - oh my god, man. It’s almost been a whole week . The longer you wait, the more likely it’ll be for him to figure it out on his own. Or, worse, he’ll be hurt that you’re still keeping things from him. He already told you yesterday, people have been sending him tons of tweets and tumblr messages asking about you. Didn’t he tell you that some people wanted to know if you’re dead or not?”

Jack nodded stiffly, wincing.

“I told you I’d help you tell him the truth.” Mark smiled reassuringly. “I meant that, okay? And - hell, I can get Amy on the line, and we can have a big ol’ Sleepover Party Egos Theory Skype Call.”

Jack snorted out a nervous laugh, shaking his head in amusement. Sleepover…

“Only you would see it as a “sleepover” opportunity, Mark.”

“What can I say?” Mark grinned cheekily and winked. “I’m a fully-fledged man-child.” His grin faded back to a soft, understanding smile and he tried to catch Jack’s eye. “Waddaya say? You up for it?”

“...I eh…” Jack stared at his hands, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt while he thought.

Was he ready to talk about what had happened yet? Would Robin even believe him? Would he freak out, or take it all in stride like he had with Sam? Jack didn’t want to cause a panic and he didn’t want to make this a bigger deal than it already was. He didn’t want to push into painful and uncomfortable territory but...it seemed a little unavoidable at this point. He had known that, eventually, he would have no choice but to tell Robin - but he’d been trying to delay the inevitable. He’d been hoping beyond hope that this whole thing would blow over as though it had never happened and he wouldn’t have to even think about the livestream or its implications or Anti’s “haunting” his videos ever again.

But Mark was right. The longer he waited, the worse it could get.

Jack sighed heavily. His hand was shaking when he reached for his phone, but he still pressed the ‘mute’ button to let Robin hear them again.

“Hey Robin,” he mumbled, to let her know he was back. “You there?”

“Still here, Jack.” The usual friendly patience was in his voice, colored with a touch of concern for his friend

It helped Jack with what he knew he had to do next.

“I...eh. D’you mind waitin’ a few minutes?” he asked, wringing his hands in his lap. “Mark’s gonna get Amy on a Skype call wit’ us, an’ we can all talk face-to-face, and I’ll...I’ll fill you in on what’s been, er, happenin’ in my part of the world.”

“Really?” Robin asked, sounding brighter. “You’re actually going to tell me this time?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I am.” Jack took a breath. His nervousness was clear with every word that left his mouth. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Wait!”

Mark’s outburst made Jack jump and his head shot up.

“What–”

“My smoothie! I totally forgot my smoothie!”

Jack stared, and he heard Robin snickering on the other end of the call.

“Your smoothie,” he repeated, his lips twitching into some semblance of a smile. “You mean the one from after dinner? From, like, two hours ago?”

“Yes, from after dinner!” Mark rocketed off the couch, skirting the coffee table and grabbing his rental car keys as he went to the door. “It’s still in the car. This is super serious.”

“Super serious?” Jack repeated. He watched Tim bounce off the couch and hop curiously around the room in pursuit of Mark, doing his best to keep up. “More serious than Serious Shit?”

“YES! MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT!” Mark, who almost stepped on Tim in his haste to get to the door, let out a rather undignified squeak and immediately crouched to the ground beside the tiny box. “Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? C’mere, my little biscuit, let’s get you off the floor. I would neeeever want you to get hurt, I would neeeever step on you…”

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re such a mom.”

“What? It’s not like you’re not the same way with Sam!”

At this, Jack chucked a pillow from the couch across the room, hitting Mark in the legs to avoid hitting Tim.

“Go get your fuckin’ smoothie!”

“Fine! I will!”

Mark flipped him off and pretended to storm out of the apartment, putting Tim on his shoulder and “slamming” the door shut (only to stop it at the last second to close it with a quiet click.) Jack shook his head with a smile. Only Mark.

“Hey...Jack?”

“Hm?” Jack returned his attention to his phone, still sitting beside him on the coffee table. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask...you tried to tell me before. Anti is real, right?”

“Yeah…” His answer was a tense one, his hands coming up to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie.

“Did…” Robin’s voice trailed off, and there was static in the speaker, like he had taken a breath. “So...did he really hurt you? On the stream.”

Jack swallowed thickly. He was suddenly very aware of the sore bruises on his throat, and he felt rather than saw Sam land lightly on his shoulder.

“What...eh…” He cleared his throat, and Sam nuzzled up against his jaw, little waves of reassurance and worry filtering into the back of his mind. “...w-what makes ye ask that?”

“I told you I was getting messages and asks,” Robin told him. He could hear footsteps in the background, movement. Like he was pacing. “And I turned them off for now, because Mark said I should wait until you told me what was going on. Which I can respect. But...some of the messages – people are really worried about you, Jack. And I am too. I couldn’t help it. I kept going back to watch the end of the stream, and – damn. That entire thing - it was so intense. It...it looked like Anti was trying to…I mean, when he was...” Robin trailed off.

Jack closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly. Oh. Hands shaking, Jack picked his phone up off the coffee table and took the call off speaker, holding the mobile to his ear and getting to his feet.

“When he was holdin’ me up against the...eh...th’ wall?” he asked hoarsely. His movements were stiff, his footing a little unsteady as he crossed the room to pick up the pillow he’d thrown at Mark. He squeezed the edge of it tightly in his hand, lingering there by the door.

“...yeah.” Robin took another deep breath on the other end of the line, and when he spoke again his voice was low and hoarse. Concerned. “He – Jack, he was hurting you. Actually hurting you, not just - play-fighting, or acting for the camera. Wasn’t he?”

Jack’s chest felt tight, his throat constricting from both the memory and his own emotions. He took a shaking breath and dropped the pillow into the armchair closest to him, his free hand coming up to rest against his opposite shoulder. By Sam. Sam’s tail trailed down and brushed against his fingers, helping to soothe some of the uneasiness that had begun to build inside him.

“N-No, that...that was. Um.” Real. It was real. He blinked rapidly and his grip tightened on his phone. “Yeah. It...he left bruises.”

Robin swore quietly on the other end of the line.

“Jack–”

But whatever Robin had been about to say, Jack never found out, because the call was suddenly filled with static and audio distortion, Robin’s words lost in a mass of broken sound that had Jack freezing where he stood.

“...Robin?” he whispered, eyes widening. “Robin...listen...I need to go. Okay? I can’t...I can’t hear you, but I th-think–”

The call dropped before Jack even hit the end button, the cell phone slipping from his hand and tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump against the carpet.

There was a static in the air, a crackle, an energy to it that made the hair on the back of Jack's neck stand on end. His breath hitched. The hand that still lingered near his shoulder tensed, and he could feel Sam curl closer to his neck.

"I'm not the only one feelin' that, yeah?" Jack breathed, his eyes darting around his apartment and landing on nothing. He took an involuntary step back toward the door.

"Nuh-uh. I feel it too..." Sam's worried voice floated across the back of his mind. Jack nodded. Alright. So he wasn't crazy.

A lamp across the room sparked and popped, the bulb blowing out suddenly, and even as small of an occurrence as that was it made Jack jump. The room was plunged into darkness. Wide blue eyes latched onto the deadened lamp. "W-What the hell is going on...?" His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.

But the question he asked was one he was almost certain he knew the answer to. This static, this...tension. Electricity. He knew this feeling. It was one he was far too familiar with, one that he had experienced before.

Anti.

The room had felt much the same as this when Anti had appeared during his stream last time, when he had pinned Jack to the wall by his throat and toyed with him in front of an audience, had left him scared and shaking in a way he never expected he'd have to feel in his life. Until then he hadn't been sure if Anti was real. But now? Now there was no denying it. So the feeling in the air, the tension, the spark? It flooded him with a very real and tangible fear that wasn't without reason.

"Ďid̎ ÿo̊u m̰i͋šs̶ m̰ē?"

A voice, so close, a cold breath against his ear. Jack cried out and flung himself away from the sound, knees hitting carpet as he hurried away from his own front door now, scrambled across the living room with desperate movements, one hand clamped over Sam so he wouldn’t lose him. There, by the door, his smile just as sharp and as wicked as Jack remembered, was the glitch himself. His image crackled and distorted for a moment - Jack could see the pixels separating as he stood there - and a moment later he had flickered forward, appearing a few steps closer.

Shit...shit, shit, shit...he had half a mind to scream, to call for Mark, but at this point Mark had probably already made it down to his car and wouldn't hear anything. All he could hope for now was that he could stall long enough for his friend to make it back inside. Two on one were better odds in this situation.

"I̥ d̠on̪'t e͊v͐enͥ g̴ét a h̒e͊llo̖, J̠åc̮k̾a͈b͗ö́y?"

“Go away!”

Jack’s eyes widened and he went stiff, panic doubling. Sam had wriggled free from his spot on Jack’s shoulder and he was hovering in mid-air between the two men in the room, planting himself boldly before Anti as though he was planning on defending Jack himself.

“Sam, don’t–”

“Leave him alone, you meanie!” Sam sounded so brave, so determined, so…so angry for such a small little being. “You hurt Jack, and you made him sad, and - and–” Sam wriggled in the air and tried to make himself look intimidating. “–and I’m not gonna let you hurt him again!”

Contrary to what Jack was sure Sam had wanted, Anti didn’t look scared at all. In fact, he smiled...a gleeful smile that had Jack dreading whatever was about to happen.

“W̠e͆ll, a̒re̮n't y͞oṳ a̸ b̸ra̢v̜e lĭt͉tle t̹oa̤s̈t̤èr̔?” Anti crooned, his head tilting far to the side in a way that was eerily non-human. He held out a hand, palm-up, and the air above it distorted and warped impossibly. A worn, dark jewelry box appeared there in a flurry of pixels, its lid popped open to reveal the empty space within. “Sȯr̬r̗y t̸o b̓ur̢s̈ţ ŷou̬r͊ b᷆u̫b᷇b̍l͑ě, S̕a̺m̮my̳, b̝u᷈t...yo̔u'rē no̸t̹ ne͑e̓d̐ed f̔o͍r̈ toñḯgh̠t̡'s ća̧s̱t̎ o̱f͗ c̟har̐a͐ct̊e͓r̊s͊.”

Quicker than Jack could react, Anti glitched, vanished, and reappeared inches from Sam with the jewelry box held out before him. With one swooping motion, Anti had flicked Sam into the box, snapped the lid shut, locked it with a key and tossed the box over his shoulder to land neatly on the armchair in the corner.

“NO!” Jack sprang forward without thinking, arm outstretched as though to reach the box–

“D̹ǐd̵ I̽ s͌a̝y y̪o͚u͘ c̡o̾u͎l̦d͗ m̐o͋v̫e͕?”

Before Jack could register the giggling words, he found himself tripping head-over-heels, colliding soundly with the front of the cabinet his television rested on. A jolt of pain pulsed through his shoulder and he cried out, biting his lip, biting his tongue. Desperate fingers clutched at his aching shoulder and he gritted his teeth.

“What the fuck do you want?!” he bit out, panting and tense as he watched Anti slowly stalk toward him across the room. “You here to...to k-kill me? Hurt me? S...Strangle me again?”

“Wh͔a̠ţ d᷁ō ÿ́o̊u̖ t͔ak̓e m̉e̥ f̓or̓, a᷇ s᷀a͂di͉s͟t͊?” Anti scoffed incredulously.

Jack blinked at him, a sassy retort on his lips before he could stop himself.

“What, you - ngh - aren’t one? Could’ve f-fooled me...”

“I'̗m̺ m̛or̬e̍ ǫf a m̭a͒s᷅ochi͙s̜t̕,̘ r͖ea̪l͟l̓y,͏” Anti shrugged. Jack was surprised that Anti had even bothered to answer the question at all. “Bu͂t̢ bo͑t͐h̬ a᷊r̛e͞ p̭r̂ett͒y̎ a͘c̬c᷅u͑ra̻t̎e̍.”

Great. Good to know. Wonderful.

“N̚o̫, i͓t̋'s no͙t̘h̺i̝n᷆g s͕o̻ s͑i̔m͕pl̖e̍ as a̖l̥l̆ t᷁h̄a̓t,” Anti smirked, waving the thought away with one hand.

The air around his palm distorted and glitched, and a shining blade appeared in his hand on the way down.

Oh, fuck.

Anti was a few steps away now, and Jack scrambled backward across the floor, trying to get as much distance between himself and the glitch as possible...but he was cornered, pinned between the side of the TV cabinet and the wall, blocked in with no way out. It was starting to become a struggle to keep his breathing steady, his heart hammering away a tarantella against his ribs, his throat coarse and tight from tension.

The burst bulb from earlier had thrown the room into near-darkness, but what moonlight was coming through the living room window reflected off the sharpened blade in Anti’s hand, the light bouncing off into Jack’s eyes as the glitch knelt in front of him - close, too close - his eyes beginning to swirl with an inky blackness that Jack never wanted to see this close again.

Jack kept his eyes fixed on the blade, wide as saucers, and his breath hitched when he saw it inching closer and closer to his face. The touch of cool metal against his cheek made him tense and he clenched his jaw with a gulp. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t painful. Anti was dragging the flat side of the knife along his jawline, and Jack could hear the sound of its edge scraping against the coarse facial hair there.

“No̫…” Anti shook his head, and the sharp grin widened wickedly, appearing to split his face in two. “No, I ẖa͗v̶e m̪ůch...͛mùch᷆ b᷆i͈g͗g᷄er p̓lan̶s᷉ foͥr᷆ yõu͕, Jaͅc̻k.”

Mark was humming to himself as he made his way down to the rental car, the keys jingling in his hand. Tim sat perched on his shoulder, one tiny hand clutching the collar of Mark’s shirt, and he was trying to hum along to whatever song Mark had stuck in his head right now

It wasn’t his fault Katy Perry’s music was so catchy.

By the time he unlocked and opened the driver’s side door, he was well into the chorus, mumbling the words in an undertone to himself and for Tim’s entertainment.

“California girls, we're undeniable! Fine, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock~” Tim was giggling, and the sound brought a warm smile to Mark’s face. He shifted into the driver’s seat so he could reach his smoothie easier, but not before belting out the next few lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“West coast represent, now put your hands up!”

He did so, dancing in his seat, grinning and playing it up for his little biscuit’s benefit.

“Ooh, oh, ooh! Ooh…”

Something flickered in the corner of his eye, something red...or was it blue?...and he trailed off, a crease forming in his brow. Tim was still giggling softly. Had he been seeing things? With a soft chuckle, he reached over and plucked his half-finished smoothie from the cupholder, still somewhat chilled from the cool weather of the evening.

Yeah, it was probably nothing. The whole Antisepticeye thing had been keeping him on edge since he’d arrived here in England. He pushed himself out of his seat and shut the door behind him. But when he turned to head back inside, something in the reflection in the car’s window caught his attention.

Mark dropped his smoothie.

A quiet thumping rose up across the living room, a rattling that caught Jack’s attention as well as Anti’s.

Sam. Sam was trying to get out.

Anti looked away from his victim for a moment, only for a moment, some space coming between Jack’s cheek and the metal of Anti’s blade.

A moment was all he needed.

Jack lashed out with a fist and a knee, landing a punch square across the glitch’s face and driving a knee up into his gut. Anti tumbled away from him, distorting and flickering, a static-fused snarl of pain and annoyance bubbling up from his prone form. Jack shoved himself to his feet, leaping over Anti and heading for the front door. He had to get out, had to leave, had to get Sam and go–

“I d͓O̬n͈’Ṭ t̉H͠iN̼ḱ sͅO͊!”

Static, feedback, a crackle in the air, and Anti was in front of him again, seething with fury, blocking his exit. Jack was running on pure adrenaline now, veering left and heading down the hall toward the bedrooms. The bathroom. Recording room. Anything.

“y̜O̰u̯’̒R̡e̿ N̈o̽T͔ g̓O̩i᷈N̸g̽ Ản̉Y͋w̳H̤e̦R̸ë́!̉”

There he was again, cutting him off, keeping him trapped in the same room. Shit...fuck…

Mark. Mark was downstairs. He just - he needed to stall, to wait it out until Mark came back with his stupid smoothie. He could make it that long.

Jack did a one-eighty and darted back down the hallway, the rug slipping beneath his feet and making him stumble. He caught himself on the wall and kept going, kept dodging. He could do this. Distract him. Hold him off. Something. Anything.

Green.

...green?

Something green, in the corner of his eye. Green and orange.

Jack risked turning his head, risked a glance, and he caught sight of the Nerf gun - Chase’s Nerf gun - sitting on the kitchen table. Mark had been playing with the damned thing for days, and for the first time since it had resurfaced Jack was unendingly grateful that Mark had found it again. He made a detour through the kitchen, snatching it up and shoving the ziplock of foam discs into his hoodie pocket.

Disc. Pull back. Load. Click. Wait for it. Be ready.

Jack circled his way back into the living room, Anti’s laughter echoing through the apartment, and he dove behind the coffee table with his plastic weaponed primed. He was ready.

He was terrified.

Jack would be an idiot if he pretended that this entire situation wasn’t scaring him within an inch of his life. He knew - he was trying not to think - that he could die at any second tonight, and that the pixelated parasite hunting him down in his own apartment was far too strong of an opponent for him to handle, with or without Sam. With Mark, maybe he had a chance, but even those odds were slim. If he didn’t die tonight, or if he didn’t at least get stabbed, he was going to drink until morning then invite every single one of his friends over to England to have the party of a fucking lifetime.

“O͗h͢,᷄ Jȁa͚a̕a̓a̻c̈́k̘~” Anti’s distorted, chilling voice echoed through the room and sent a shiver down Jack’s spine. “W͘h̅e͔re a᷇r̰e̶ y̑ou͏ hid͛ǐnͅg̤?”

Jack caught sight of a flickering black sneaker from his hiding spot and he popped up from behind the coffee table, firing the Nerf gun at the center of Anti’s chest.

Anti barely flinched as the foam disc bounced off of him with a spark of electricity. He blinked - dark, void-like eyes - and stared down at the harmless green projectile on the floor.

“A̛ n᷄er̼f͈ d̑i͞sč? Ȓe͏a̧ll̐y̕, Ja͙c͂k̇?᷀”

Jack shrugged. He pretended that he wasn’t sweating buckets and shaking like a leaf behind the Nerf gun in his hands.

“N-Not like I’ve got anythin’ else.”

“H̆o̲w͘ v᷁e̛ry “C̰h̦a͘s̟e B̜r̵o̦d͔y” o͈f̹ y̬öu͍.”

Somehow the mention of another Ego’s name on Anti’s lips made Jack tense up. It was surreal. It was strange. They were all fake - all of them fictional - yet Anti had somehow become so much more. The concept of the living incarnation of his once-fictional character mentioning another of his still-fictional characters so casually like that...it was unsettling, to say the least. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. He just needed to hold out a little longer, just a little while longer, until Mark came back from the car. Keep talking. Keep going...

“W-Well...well…it’s t-technically his gun...s-so…”

Jack opened his eyes.

Anti wasn’t there.

“I̚ kn̴ơw̼ w̖h̖a̽ẗ y᷆o̠u᷄’͍r͖e do̕i͖n̖g̉.”

The chilling voice seemed to come from all sides at once, and Jack could make out flickers of pixels and static in the dark shadows of the room. He fumbled with the ziplock in his pocket, pulling out a foam disc to load his Nerf gun again.

“Oh?” Jack asked, his voice coming out higher than he’d intended. “Do…” He cleared his throat. “...do you now?”

“M᷅a̪r̿k̀i̟pl̻i̘e͛r᷀ i̵sn̄’t͡ c̊o͇m̕i͝n̩g͚ to͆ s̲a͙v᷀e͎ yo̫u̥.”

Jack’s blood ran cold.

“What–”

“H᷁e’̘s̎...ă li͢t̺t͖l̷e᷄ ţie͓d᷄ u̯p̉ a̳t̀ th̪e͡ m̘oͥmȩn͇ẗ́.” Anti’s distorted giggle echoed and circled in the empty air, causing goosebumps to sprout up along Jack’s arms. His breath hitched, eyes flying wildly around the room, trying to spot any sign of his doppleganger. “Y᷇o᷅u̥ wer͖e̸ṇ’t̃ p̼l̯a̿yi̟n͘g̉ fa̯ir̤, Ja̒c̉k̩a̫b᷉o͎y…” The next words came front right over his shoulder, whispered into his ear like a dirty secret. “...s̥o̾ Į le͍veͅlèd͎ t̏h̬e͕ p̭l̎ay᷊i̹n͑g̵ fi̥el͔d͙.͝ Ġot̥ ą c̋er̒t̛a͙i͇n da̢r͍k a̭cq̑ŭa̖in͊t̮a̠n̸ce̬ of̿ m̪i̎ne t͖õ ẖęl̍p̖ m̓e̺ o̢u̟t a̲ li̫t͕t᷈l̪e.”

Mark was scared to blink, staring at his own reflection in the car’s window with his jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his neck. A figure stood just behind his shoulder, his body outlined in a familiar red and blue, looking so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. By the time his smoothie hit the concrete and burst open, splattering the ground, only fractions of a second had passed...but it felt like an eternity. He blinked.

Dark was gone.

“Mark?” Tim’s voice cropped up beside his ear, confused and a little worried.

“...hold on to me, okay?” Mark murmured, and he brought a hand up to try and shield his familiar from whatever might happen. Whoever might happen.

“I’m not here for him, you know.”

The voice, deep and echoing and so like his own but different, startled him into turning around. He hadn’t been in the reflection, but he hadn’t actually left. His name left Mark’s lips in a strained whisper.

“Darkiplier.”

“Face-to-face, at long last,” Dark nodded. He smirked, folding his hands behind his back. “And like I said...I’m only here for you. This is all coming from your mind, Mark.”

“Mark? What’re you lookin’ at?”

Tim. He sounded so innocent and confused, so worried about Mark, and what Dark was saying suddenly registered in Mark’s mind.

“Tim can’t see you, can he?”

“Tim doesn’t have to see me,” Dark corrected, raising an eyebrow in clear impatience. “I don’t want him to see me, therefore he can’t. But you…” His head tilted to the side and he made his neck pop, his shell cracking and separating for a moment. Then he leaned forward, intrigued. “...you, I can never quite hide from. Not completely. Why is that?”

“I...don’t know,” Mark shook his head, confused. Lost. Dark was here, and he was very real, and he was talking to Mark as though none of this was odd. “Maybe...uh....maybe because I made you?”

“Y̙̭o͏̖͔͙͓̼u d͇͈̭i͎̤͉ḍ̼̠̭̟̯͡n̡͕͎̙̜’̠̹̫̦͙͡t ̝ma̟k̼͎͝e̗̗̱͈̬ͅ m̰̥ḛ.”

There was an echoing fury boiling under the words, and the air around Dark seemed to darken considerably in the moment. Mark took an involuntary step back towards his car.

“I - what?”

“You didn’t make me.” Dark’s anaglyphic image was separating, tearing itself apart, and one of his echoing reflections seemed to scream silently into the cold night air. All the while, his core image remained stern and unyielding, showing barely any emotion at all. “You destroyed me - destroyed us. You stole his body. You condemned her to hell. You drove him to insanity. You ruined their lives.”

It clicked, then, what Dark was talking about. This was exactly what Mark had been scared of, worried about, when he was talking to Jack in that cafe. This was why he was regretting the creation of “Who Killed Markiplier”...or more accurately, he was regretting the addition of the character of Mark. The Mark who was an actor. The Mark who was an asshole. The fictional Mark who ruined everything and destroyed so many people…

...Dark was under the impression that Actor Mark and YouTube Mark were one and the same.

Mark blinked, and suddenly Dark was so much closer than he had been before. The darkness that had been enveloping the demon was surrounding Mark too now, and it was absolutely suffocating.

“...but, I suppose I should be thanking you,” Dark continued, a smirk finding its way onto his face. He tilted his head to the side, regarding Mark thoughtfully. “In a way, you...are the reason I exist. Your damnation of your friends led to my creation. A part of me is furious...but a part of me is more than grateful. You set the darkness free, Mark.”

Mark’s heart was pounding, rapid, in his chest and he could feel a minute panic slowly flooding his very soul. He gulped and shook his head, one hand still holding Tim close - Tim, who had fallen strangely silent, though Mark didn’t stop to question it.

Dark wasn’t here to hurt him. Dark didn’t resort to physical violence unless he had to, Mark had written him that way. While Anti went straight for the knife, Dark resorted to other means of making his point and making his mark.

This was all in his mind. Dark wasn’t physically here.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “You...I’ve been seeing you, for months, but this is the first time you’ve actually spoken to me. What changed?”

Dark’s gaze trailed off to the side, toward the apartment, before settling back on Mark.

“A friend asked for a favor.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I merely agreed.”

A cry of pain broke the odd non-silence of the evening, a cry of pain that sounded all too familiar and was coming from the apartment Mark had been trying to return to. His eyes widened.

A friend asked for a favor.

A friend of Dark’s. Anti.

“Jack!”

Mark shoved away from the car and ran through Dark’s mirage of a body, the blue and red dispersing into wisps of dark smoke. Mark only made it halfway to the stairs.

“Clever boy. But you can’t leave. Not yet.”

Dark’s voice echoed in his mind, sending a blinding pain through his skull that brought him to his knees with a shout. He clutched at his head, fingers tangling in his hair and digging into his scalp. He felt rather than saw Tim tumble off of his shoulder, falling the few feet to the ground, making Mark wince in sympathy. There wasn’t enough strength in him to free himself from the mental onslaught, let alone help his tiny friend.

But he needed to. He needed to get Dark out of his head, needed to help Jack. If Dark was out here, then Anti must be in there, and he’d already seen what Anti had done to Jack the last time he had shown up. It wasn’t pretty. Mark didn’t fancy seeing a reenactment.

Get out...get out!

“Why would I? I have a job to do, Mark. You better than anyone should know that I never put in a half effort.”

Images began to surface in his mind, horrible images, memories that had never happened...memories of his friends, his real friends, getting hurt…

Please don’t. They don’t deserve this.

“Neither did Damien. Neither did Celine. Neither did William.”

“That...w-wasn’t me!” he protested, finally finding his voice, the words hoarse and weak. “You’ve got it - ngh - wrong! I’m - y-yeah, I’m Mark, but I’m n-not that Mark! I–”

“Oh, quit with your pitiful lies,” Dark sneered. “Celine is already angry enough with you as it is.”

“No, listen! I made up that version of Mark the same way I created you and Wilford and Abe – I’m just a writer, okay?!”

“Give up, Mark. Nobody can hear you. Let’s see how long you last before you begin pleading for forgiveness. I have all night…”

Hold on, Jack. I’m coming. Hold on–

Jack shuddered and shot to his feet, almost tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get away from Anti, who cackled in amusement from where he’d appeared directly over Jack’s shoulder. Jack rounded on the glitch and aimed the Nerf gun at his chest, not even caring that it was basically harmless.

“What did you do?!” he demanded, his concern for his friend overtaking his fear for his own life. “Is Dark gonna kill him?”

“D̙o͕n͑’̚t b͐e͟ s͋i̧lly!” Anti smirked and rolled his eyes, playing with his knife out of sheer boredom, tossing it between his hands and flipping it in the air. It was clear he was skilled with his weapon on choice, throwing it around with ease like one would a half-filled water bottle. “O᷄l’ D̜a̩rki͈e̚ do̶ẹs̨n̈́’ť ju͊st̽ ķill̔ p̠eo᷈p̰l͌e̞. O᷀r͋ hē w͈on̎’̞t k̇i͏ll̫ Ma̻r᷊kipl̮i̧er͕, an̋y̑w̩a͕y̒.”

The knife soared a good foot or two in the air before tumbling downward, making Jack tense even as he watched Anti catch it cleanly by the handle.

“Fa͐r a͓š I̩ c̠a᷊n̅ t͂ell͚ he̟’̤s̄ p͞r̃et᷇ty̚ p̝i᷅s̱s͚e͔d͐ a̤t᷆ ṱh͔e̓ g̹uy̗. Be̘en̒ t͑oy̕īn͗’͈ w̶it’ hi̛m᷆ f̦o͐r̬ m̽o᷆nt̾h̟s̞,̈ o̊ř so̊ h͍i᷉s̝ r̓oboͅt́ s̽a᷁ẏs͍.”

Robot? Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. Dark had robots now?

“N̛a̡h᷾, Da͖r̓k̺’s͗ n̠o͊t̻ g̦onnå k̬i͗l͙ḽ Mar̃k̝. P͑ŕe̽t̩ṯyͅ s̒u̕r̾e ḣe᷇’d̈ r̯a̱the̗r dr̹i͖v̓ę h͂i͔m̃ t̰o̐ i͢n᷀s̷a͛nityͅ ḅefo᷾r̞e͓ tͅh͙a̓t ĥap̆p̝e̾ns.”

Jack swallowed thickly. Drive him to insanity? Could Dark do that? He was brought back to the conversation he and Mark had had almost a week ago, in the cafe. The first morning Mark had shown up.

“Dark’s more subtle,” Mark had said. “He works behind the scenes. He doesn’t deal with face-to-face conflict as much. He mostly sticks to the shadows. I mean, I gave him his backstory, I should know this…honestly, it makes me wonder if ‘Who Killed Markiplier’ wasn’t a horrible, horrible idea.”

Mark had been worried, beyond worried, about the concept of Dark actually making his move. Jack had noticed it that day but hadn’t bothered to ask about it. He was beginning to think that, perhaps, he should have pushed a little more.

“Bu̼t y̾o̲u̱ h᷁aͅve̕n̰’t̰ goṯ th᷁a͗t͓ to w᷁o͢r͊ry̽ ab̻o̱u̺t̍, Ja͖cͅka᷁b͐o̱y!” Anti was grinning again, and Jack would swear that his doppleganger’s teeth were sharp, pointed. Deadly. “A͟ft̸ëṙ t᷁o᷁n̎ig̙h̸t, you̅ w᷄o̓nͅ’̥t͂ b͐e̡ w̢OR̵r̈Yi͇N̞g a᷊BoUt a᷅N̡ÿ́T͒h̛i͙N᷇g͋.”

Anti’s distorted shadow grew around him, engulfing his side of the room in a glitching, pulsating, corrupted darkness, and from its depths shot out a dozen or so venom-green cords of light. At Anti’s command, they darted forward and curled tightly around Jack’s wrists, his ankles, his knees and elbows, his chest - his throat. Not tight enough to strangle, but with his bruises still healing, it was more than tight enough to hurt.

Jack gasped sharply and gritted his teeth, snarling and tugging against the green strings, fighting for his freedom. He had to get out. He had to save Sam, had to help Mark. But there was something...odd about the strings. With each tug against his restraints, Jack felt a little more of the fight leaving him, his will to rebel slowly draining away. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain...so...so wouldn’t it…

...wouldn’t it be easier to just give in?

The Nerf gun fell from his hands, tumbling to the floor with a clatter of plastic and a muffled thump against the carpet.

“No͊w be̺ a̦ go͟õd̏ li᷅t̏t᷁l͋e᷊ pup̝p͟ét, an̂d̯ ğo᷊ t̥õ s͕le̗e̥ṗ.”

Yeah...yeah, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Jack slowly let his eyes drifted shut.

Click.

“You let ‘im go right this fucking second, or I blow your fuckin’ brains out, bro.”

[A/N] - Woot! It's done! ^^ And ending on a cliffhanger too? Shocking! :0c

This chapter actually took a lot longer to finish than I originally intended. For some reason I was really struggling to get going on it, but once I started into the ambush, it really started rolling. Believe it or not, this chapter is about twice the length of all the others. While most other chapters finish off at around ten pages in Google Docs, this one? This one hit a solid twenty. Absolute insanity.

Anyway! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and comments and critiques are always appreciated! Ta!

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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#SamLives #Jacksepticeye #Antisepticeye #Markiplier #Darkiplier #Sam Lives #JSE #JSE FanFic #Jacksepticeye FanFic #Sam Septiceye #Sam #Jack #Mark #Dark #Anti #Nerf Gun #Chapters #11 #Presenting Tonight's Cast Of Characters

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