#and be lucky i restrained myself from going all out too

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: one bed

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re stuck with the cockiest man of all time and you need a place to stay… but things aren’t exactly idealistic

warnings: Jameson being a shameless flirt, you have to pretend you hate jameson… very difficult I KNOW

a/n: enemies to lovers?? Yes. One bed trope?? Yes. Jameson Hawthorne being outrageously hot for no good reason?? Absolutely.

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle love you guys 🤍🤍

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as the door swings open.

The room itself was okay, clean, tidy, welcoming but there was one giant problem situated in the middle. There was only one bed.

“I don’t think anyone is kidding this time, princess,” Jameson grins, looking far too happy with himself for your liking.

“Don’t call me that,” I scowl.

“Okay,” he smirks, “…princess.”

I want to punch that those pathetic upturned corners of his mouth to Mars but I restrain myself… for now.

“You’re on the floor,” I snap, cocking my head to where he would be sleeping. I was not about to share a bed with him, absolutely not. It was bad enough that I had to spend three days with the guy, I wasn’t about to jeopardise my sleep for him too.

“No I am not,” he yells, looking offended that I’d even suggested it,

“Be a gentleman,” I say mockingly, “sleep on the floor.”

“I’d rather die,” Jameson says flatly, his disgust evident.

“I will find a knife and make it happen,” I hiss, hoping he realises I might actually go through this threat.

His eyes brow fly to his forehead and his eyes widen, “what?”

“What?” I say quickly.

He shakes his head folds his arms and turns to me with a cocky smile, “I’m sleeping in the bed whether you like it or not.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I reply, kicking his shin, hard.

He lets out a string of colourful words as he crumples to the floor holding his leg. Next time, I make myself a mental note that, I should aim for the groin.

“You are one piece of work,” he winced, standing up again, towering over me, “but you’re my piece of work, so it makes all of this worth it.”

“Your piece of work?” I scoff.

“Oh so you like being mine?” he quips, a grin safely situated on his eager lips.

“Possessiveness makes a man ugly,” I say flatly and bluntly, hoping he might shut his ever moving mouth for just a moment.

“So you thought I was pretty before?” Jameson asks, though it seems to be more of an assumption than a question.

“Shut your mouth,” I snap, viciousness rolling from the tip of tongue, the odd bitter taste still left in my mouth even after it’s closed.

“Can you shut it for me?” he pouts, mockingly, lolling his head to the side, “with a kiss perhaps?”

“In your wildest wet dreams Hawthorne,” I deadpan, my face robbed of all expression.

Silence. Never was there more bliss than this moment of absolute silen-

“I think you want to kiss me.”

His voice is like a never ending ringing in my ears, torturing me to the grave. Leave it to Jameson Hawthorne to ruin the mere seconds of peace I was beginning to enjoy. And his audacity made me want to run through a wall head first. Me? Want to kiss him? Well wouldn’t he be lucky.

“You have fun with that thought,” I sigh, beginning to walk away.

“No really, that’s why you’re so uptight all the time,” he says casually.

Done. I am done with this guy.

“Uptight!” I yell, “uptight! I’m uptight because I’m being forced to spend three days with the most insufferable person on this earth and now I have to share a bed you as well!”

“Breathe princess,” he replies calmly to get under my skin, “the world’s not ending.”

“No,” I laugh bitterly, “the world is not ending but I think I’d much rather face Armageddon than a night with you.”

“Oh c’mmon princess,” he shrugs, “it’s only a night, surely I’m not that bad.”

“You are, undoubtably, you are,” I grit through my teeth, “I’m asking to switch.”

“This is the only room left in this whole place,” he points out.

I knew he was right. I’d been there when the damn owner of the place had given us the last room key and had told us there would be no way to change the room if it was unsatisfactory as there were no more rooms to give. I didn’t think it’d be a problem…until now that is.

“I’d rather sleep outside,” I state.

“Then go, be my guest,” Jameson says, “I’m not the one making a fuss thought now I think I should be.”

I ignore his comment, “Aren’t you rich? Can’t you just pay them?”

“Are you asking me, a man of honourable intention, to bribe innocent people,” he gasps melodramatically, batting his eyelashes.

I think he thinks he’s being funny. I’m not laughing.

“Honourable is a bit too compliments to yourself in you ask me,” I snort.

“Well no one did, so that’s that one sorted,” he smiles, matter-of-factly.

“Oh would you just-“

If he hadn’t interrupted me there I would’ve spouted language that would’ve condemned me to an eternity of hell.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway and I don’t know why you’re making it one,” he says, “we’re sleeping in a bed for a night… unless…”

“Unless what?” I ask curiously.

I didn’t like the sound of the smile creeping up in his voice. I didn’t like how confided he seemed or his natural relaxed demeanour.

“Unless you don’t want to because you’re afraid you’ll like it,” he says, biting his bottom lip slightly.

Like it? Like it? Just when I thought his head couldn’t get any further up his arse.

I bark out a laugh, “you’re mental.”

“I think I’m actually very smart,” says Mr.BigFatEgo.

“The last thing I’m scared of is liking you, I wouldn’t let my standards drop that low,” I tell him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night princess, though tonight it might be me that helps you sleep better,” he winks.

I wished to slap him across the face right there and then. So hard, so loud and so painfully that he wouldn’t be able to sleep on that side for weeks, so it would sting for hours one end, so a red mark would stain to damned cheek I left it on. I fantasise even breaking a jaw but I chose to stand still and say nothing and just stare.

“What?” he teases, his voice changing as if he were talking to a small child, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m going for a shower,” I retort.

“Feeling saucy?” Jameson smirks.

I don’t bother to reply, too tired of his games and his stupid antics. I need a break, I need a shower and I need a second of quiet. So I turn swiftly on my heel and leave him stood there. I hope the smirk falls from his face.

***

Once the two of us had showered, we both cautiously crawled onto one side of the bed. You’d have thought there was an invisible force field keeping the two of us apart from the way we were sitting. There was no sound now. Not even background TV noise, just air thick with tension. All day I’d longed for silence and now it had finally arrived I wish more than anything for some noise.

“Are we going to sleep?” Jameson asks.

I look at him for the first time since my shower, making direct eye contact. Piercing green irises stare back at me, telling stories of many woods and forests. I’d never really looked at his eyes like this before.

“I don’t like this,” I blurt out, gesturing to the sleeping arrangement.

“Well you’re going to have to live with it aren’t you, princess?” he says, booping my nose.

“Touch my face again and I will bite you,” I threaten, my voice low and dangerous.

“Ooo feeling flirty are we? I could get down on some biting action,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows , “I look forward to it.”

“Are you proud of that one, aren’t you?” I say, my tone as blunt as my will to live at this point.

He doesn’t reply.

“That’s sad,” I hum.

“So are we sleeping or do you want to stay up all night discussing your troubles with me?” he asks turning to look at me.

“Sleeping,” I grumble, laying down with my back towards him.

“Goodnight princess,” he whispers, as he turns off the lamp.

“I hope you die in your sleep,” I murmur back.

He chuckles softly and I hear him roll over. I don’t remember anything after that.

***

When I wake up I’m immediately pissed off. It’s the morning and I still feel groggy and unrefreshed. The mattress feels a little different. I slowly open my eyes that seemed as though they’d been velcroed shut. That’s when I come to a horrible realisation.

I’m on his chest. I am laying on Jameson Hawthorne’s chest. And he has his arms around me. We are CUDDLING. I’m in the same bed, hugging a man I despise more than anyone on this planet. I want to die.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off me could you princess,” says a familiar, aggravating voice.

I scream, jumping away from him quickly. Why the hell were we positioned like that? How could that just have happened? Why did it have to happen? I curse myself for ever agreeing to sleeping in the stupid bed with that.

“Jesus woman it’s 7am, no need to bust my eardrums,” Jameson complains, caressing his ears.

In any normal circumstance is would’ve had a go at him for calling me ‘woman’ like that, but this circumstance was anything but I normal.

“What was that?” I pant, “why were you on me?”

“Actually princess, I think you’ll find it was the other way around,” he says coolly, “you were on me.”

“You did that on purpose,” I spit, my eyes pinned to him, glaring furiously.

“I most certainly did not,” he replies, his voice louder, more dominant, defensive. He looks slightly offended I would even suggest such a thing.

“Yes you did,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t care what I’m saying, his eyes are fixated on my head, “your hair is a little messed up princess,”

I groan, angry and embarrassed and all that’s in between. I comb a hand through the mass of knots, trying to tame them and failing.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he grins, cocking his head to one side.

“Piss off,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “we were cuddling a second ago.”

“No we weren’t, that never happened,” I say quickly.

“I’m pretty sure it did,” he grins.

“Jameson Hawthorne I swear to everything on this earth if you do not shut your mouth you will be sorry,” I murmur, threat etched in every decibel of my tone.

And he shut it. He actually shut it… for about two seconds

He leans back and the corners of his mouth turn upward, he’s suspiciously amused, “I’ll make you a wager.”

“I don’t want your wager,” I snap.

“Then I won’t shut up,” he shrugs.

“What’s the wager?” I respond almost immediately. Now he knows this is going to get to me he’ll use it against me. And I can’t have that. He can’t have the power.

“Kiss me and I won’t utter a word of what happened in this room to anyone,” he whispers, “not you, not my brothers, no one… our little secret?”

“I sincerely hope you’re joking,” I force a laugh.

“Just one little kiss and it all goes away,” Jameson murmurs, his voice alluring.

“No,” I shake my head. I will not agree, I will not fall down the slippery slope, I will not allow myself to be in this position.

“Okay fine,” he shrugs, smirking, “I suppose everyone shall know about your night spent with the infamous Jameson Hawthorne. Hey, it might make national news-“

I cut him off, pushing my lips onto his. Hard. I close my eyes. He kisses back, intensely, hungrily, passionately. And I can’t seem to stop either. All this anger, all this hate, all this built up fury is finally being let go. I want him to taste my hatred for him, I want him to feel my loathing, to ache when he gets a touch of my aggravation. He doesn’t to hold back and neither do I. His hands are snaking around my waist and mine are buried deep in his hair. I know I need to take a breath but my brain has somehow stopped functioning and all it wants is his lips pressed against my own. I can feel his hands making their way up my back, his touch more tentative than I’d ever imagined. Mine travel down to his next, where I cling to him, my nails digging into the delicate skin. Does he feel the pain? Does he care? If he does he doesn’t show it. His hands are now in my hair, tugging and ripping at every strand. But I don’t care. Because I know that this is his hate for me that I’m feeling and it’s giving me this buzz. This buzz of electrical passion and I don’t know why. He’s so rough with me and yet so gentle. The movement is so powerful and yet when we collide he treats my being like it’s a glass ballerina. Like I might break into a million shards and shatter onto the ground. And suddenly I’m pushing him away, my hands act on their own instinct. We both stand there, the only sound is our panting breaths, as we lock eyes.

“I upheld my end of the bargain, now you uphold yours,” I breathe heavily, my chest heaving up and down.

“You have my word,” Jameson whispers, smiling as he brings a soft and gentle finger to your lips.

a/n: I actually had the most fun writing this and I’m a actually quite proud of it… so hope you guys enjoyed as well. As always, requests are open and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list :) thanks for reading 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[sleepyhollands]

Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇

harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.

now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?

call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.

harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.

“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.

was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”

“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”

harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?

one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.

“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”

their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.

“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”

“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”

harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.

“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”

“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.

crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”

“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.

harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.

he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.

eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”

“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.

four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.

“any more complaints, then?”

the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.

fucking finally.

crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”

but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.

harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.

“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”

and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.

“y-y/n.”

harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”

he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.

y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.

“’s just us here, love.”

“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.

oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.

“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”

tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.

“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”

y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.

“what are you going to do with me?”

harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.

“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”

y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”

“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”

“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”

harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.

why was that?

y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.

“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”

hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”

once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.

“why are you helping me, harry?”

harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.

“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”

y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.

his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.

taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter six: I think he knows

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FIVE: FUCKING SITUATIONS, CIRCUMSTANCES, MISCOMMUNICATIONS

warnings: language, alcohol consumption, self-deprecation, angst

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY! first chapter of phase two -- and guys, let me tell you she's juicy. much drama and angst to come! the next part may be super duper short, so the chapter after will come sooner than you think :)

It’s not as painful as you first imagined. The first week was hard, obviously. But when you never heard any of Bucky’s escapades through the wall — you assume he just waits until you fall asleep. Or maybe you’ve just been more tired recently, taking on as much work as you possibly can all to outrun your intense feelings, sprinting like it’s a fucking marathon.

At least he hasn’t caught on. He visits you, after workouts and spar sessions, holding treats and drinks, and even keeps you company when the system is down and you have to file everything by hand. Everything is good, and you’ve managed to dissuade everyone who knows the two of you that you like him. But you do, desperately. Pathetically.

Right now, you’re not focused on all of that. Wanda and Nat have roped you into a girls’ night. And surprisingly, Sharon is there. When Nat disappears to get her favourite bottle of white wine, an awkward silence descends upon the three of you, as even Wanda politely excuses herself to get some snacks. You look everywhere but at Sharon, afraid she’ll say something horrid about you. You pull at your dress and fiddle with your hair, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“I’m so sorry.” Are the words you didn’t expect to hear, at all. Your head shoots up, only to find her staring at you with a truly apologetic look all over her face, red lips pursed in more words still unspoken.

“W—What?” You hate the small stutter in your voice.

“I’ve been a downright bitch to you the entire time you’ve been here. I’ve been unfair. I’m sorry. When you got here, all I saw was that Steve wanted you, and I thought you wanted him too, so I lashed out. But I know now that that’s not the case. And even if you were interested, that gave me no right to take it out on you. If I’m feeling insecure, I should keep it to myself.”

Immediately, your nurturing sense of nature kicks in, ready to reassure her. “Well, no Sharon, you shouldn’t keep insecurities to yourself. There’s definitely healthier ways to go about it…and I’m not excusing you, but I understand it. When you like someone and they seem to have something with someone else…it’s quite crushing. Sometimes you do anything to fill that void, regardless of consequences. I understand.” She smiles at you.

“Thank you. But still, that doesn’t make what I did to you okay, by any standards. I was…I was hoping maybe we could start over? And maybe try to eventually be friends?” Her shy hopefulness gets the best of you. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.” 

This is definitely gonna come back to bite you in the ass.

“Plus, you’re into Bucky now, aren’t you?” She asks, and you’re taken aback. It feels like the narrative you’ve been cultivating for the past month or so has come shattering down. Have you been that obvious? “I can tell by the way you look at him. It’s cute, honestly.” 

You deflect. “Um, I suppose we’re close.” You wring your hands under the table where she can’t see and just like that Nat and Wanda both come barreling back in.

“Oh come on, don’t lie. You’re completely smitten by him.” Nat grins, holding up six bottles of wine. Six? How the hell are we gonna get through that?

“Okay and?” You ditch any pretense, knowing that if Sharon’s figured it out, then there is no point in wearing a mask when everyone knows of the hideous face underneath. “It’s not like he likes me back, so—.”

“So can I ask him out?” Sharon asks, her demeanour entirely changing. Then you realise what she was doing, she was trying to covertly figure out if you and Bucky are actually together, because she wants him.

Of course she does. And even though your heart splinters into a million pieces in your chest, you smile. “Yeah, go for it. Just because I have a tiny crush on him, doesn’t mean others can’t. Go ahead.”

“Do you know where he is now?” You feel the lump in your throat hardening, and refusing to dissolve even though you know you should answer her question, should speak.

“Yeah, he’s sparring with Steve.”

“Oh, I’ll go find him now then. Thank you so much!” She walks around the table and hugs you, and you don’t have it in you to pull away like you so desperately want. 

You don’t say another word until she leaves, then bow your head and let the tears fall. 

Dear God, what chance do you stand now? Sharon is prettier, skinnier than you. How could you even think to compete with her? Her hair is perfect, her body is perfect, her face is perfect. It makes sense. She’s the kind of woman Bucky should go for, who he makes the most sense with. Not you.

Once again, you are close to him, but you’ll never be the one he wants. You don’t register your shoulders shaking until you feel yourself wrapped in a hug. It’s stupidly childish, to be crying like this.

It’s not like she’s trying to steal your boyfriend — she just happens to have a crush on the same man as you. So why are you so distraught?

Because deep down you haven’t let go of hope. That maybe, if you’re nice enough, then Bucky will like you. For your heart. For your soul, for your mind. Maybe, he’ll be drawn to your kindness and generosity, and it’ll win him over. 

He’ll have to compromise with your looks, but…if he liked you enough, wouldn’t it be worth it?

But you forget that someone else who looks like Sharon can also do the exact same. And then, there will be no compromise. He’ll be happier. 

He’ll be happier.

“God, she’s such a bitch.” Wanda says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You lift your head, drying your tears.

“Wanda…you can’t just call women bitches. And she’s not that horrible, she apologised for the stuff she’s done before. She’s braver than me, she can actually ask out the man she likes. Don’t blame her.”

Natasha pulls away, glaring daggers at you. “Girl, you know I love you, but are you fucking blind? She got your guard down, to talk about if you and Bucky are a thing, and then pounced when you said you weren’t. She wanted to see if the rumours were true.” 

Both women pull away from you, sitting down as you wipe your cheeks clean. “What rumours?” Wanda uses her powers to pour you a glass which you down almost immediately, and then Wanda pours you another.

“Haven’t you heard? Word on the block is that you and Bucky are dating.” You sink into yourself, knowing what people must be saying.

“What? Well, we definitely are not, unfortunately for me. We’re just friends—well, I guess everyone’s gonna find out when she asks him out and he says yes.”

“He’s not gonna say yes,” Wanda breathes, laying a gentle hand on your arm.

“You guys don’t know that for sure.”

“We do.” They both chime in unison.

“How?”

“He looks at you like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than not. Plus, he’s well up to date with what Sharon’s done to you. He’s not saying yes. Trust us.”

You nod, deciding to divert the topic. “What about you guys, what’s new with you?”

Natasha tells you about the hot girl she saw at the gym, and Wanda recounts her latest escapade with Vision. The three of you gossip and talk for hours and hours, getting louder and louder as more alcohol enters your systems. 

You’re incredibly drunk as you head back to your room, stumbling in the elevator and giggling over Nat calling Thor’s new long hair “horse-shaped”. To sober you, it makes no sense. But to the inebriated version of you, nothing’s ever been funnier. 

Bucky’s standing outside your door, waiting for you to emerge. “Bucky!” You exclaim, voice full of love and adoration as you fall into his strong arms and warm chest, pressing a noisy kiss to the closest part of him which happens to be his neck. He blushes.

“Dear God, doll. You’ve had a lot to drink haven’t you?” He chuckles, amused. 

“Uh huh. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off giving Sharon the pounding of her life or something?” You gaze up at him through your lashes, and this is the precise moment Bucky realises he’s falling in love with you. Flushed, round cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a fondness in your face that nobody else could ever replicate. And that dirty fucking mouth. You’re going to be the death of him.

“What? No. Absolutely not. After what she did to you?” You frown, and fuck he just wants to kiss you so bad. “But why would you let that stop you? She’s so pretty, and she’s so interested. She told me a few hours ago.” You open the door to your room, and he carries you bridal style. You snuggle into him, even as he sets you down. 

You thank your lucky stars you’re not wearing any makeup, so you can bury your face in the pillow all you want. But all you want is Bucky. So beautiful, how can you resist? He watches you, snuggling into the covers. He wants you so bad, it’s ruining his life. 

That’s what it feels like.

You reach for him, just as he plucks up the courage to offer you a half-truth. “Why would I want someone that cruel? And you’re a heck of a lot prettier, doll. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He moves closer to you, to tuck you in up to your chin in this freezing cold night, when your eyes crack open and you latch onto his arm.

“Please don’t go, Buck. Don’t leave me. I love you.” You pout, and tears escape you, disappearing into your hairline. He brushes them away, and the contrast of his hot and cold hands has your eyes flutter.

“You love me?” He chuckles again, because you’re just too damn cute. He quickly takes a picture and sets it as his lock screen, too enamoured by you to resist.

“Of course. You’re my best friend, and I love all my friends. Just—Will you please get over here? It’s fucking freezing.” Bucky quickly jumps under the covers, facing towards you and pulls you in. Your shivering subsides immediately, wrapped in his warm chest and his metal arm.

“I love you too.” He whispers, and you hum in agreement, not knowing the double meaning those four simple words carry.

You drift off peacefully, dreaming once again of desire-filled blue eyes, and a smile graces your face.

NEXT PART

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Just saw your thunder empress and besides wanting more of her, there's a character i really wonder what they would do in that situation. What if it was Cinder that went back in time? Would she even want to come back to remnant? Would she mellow down?

But i still also want more Nora

This may be my greatest Alternative Rusted Knight yet!

Blake: *Raising Gambol Shroud* Cinder.

Weiss: *Readying Glyphs* We don't want to fight-

The Wildfire Mage: Then I would be most gracious if you were to lower your weapons!

Yang: *Guarding Ruby* What? Why would we do that?

The Wildfire Mage: *Brushing the hair out of her face* Because I am not this "Cinder" you speak of - That name is familiar, but I cannot recall where i might've heard it before.

_WBY: *wary glances at each other*

Ruby: Are- Are You okay?

The Wildfire Mage: I ... my memory is, as always, somewhat faulty, but putting that aside for the moment, I am quite well! More than that, despite your mistaken belief that I am "Cinder", I am quite happy to see more humans! The last two I met were so ... So ...

Blake: Do you think more people than Alyx have fallen down here?

Weiss: Well ... We did?

Yang: She's just been staring into the distance for a minute now.

Ruby: Uhm, excuse me? Miss Mage?

The Wildfire Mage: Hmm? Oh! Yes! You four! I should count myself Lucky to meet such prolific Hunters given the seeming Multiplication of Jabberwockers! It's very well, given Lewis and ... And Alyx ... uh ... were ...

The Wildfire Mage: ...

The Wildfire Mage: They were but Children! They should not have had to escape such horrid beasts, much like the kind they informed me of from their home! With so many Deadly being running about back there, I see not why they would want to leave the Ever After and return to "Remnant!"

The Wildfire Mage: After all here is safe, sound, and protected from ... from ...

The Wildfire Mage: ... Uh, again my apologies, My mind is scattered as ashes to Wind! perhaps we should head to my home - quickly, before it becomes too dark to travel!

~In the Punderstorm~

Reflection: What are you doing ...

The Wildfire Mage: Why do you follow me? Hear your voice in those moments-

Reflection: We are strong now ... Need no one ...

The Wildfire Mage: To be alone is to suffer; I know you know that.

Reflection: Alyx ... She wrote lewis out of her story ... She is like us-

The Wildfire Mage: She may be like you But I am no liar, nor a Deciever! You are a cruel, injured being. Leave me be.

Reflection: I am you.

The Wildfire Mage: By what means?

Reflection: I am your Truth. You Restrain us, when we are strong enough to do whatever we want!

The Wildfire Mage: Indeed We are, And I quite enjoy the freedom to be kind.

Reflection: Kindness is WEAKNESS.

The Wildfire Mage: It is as much as solitude.

~The next day, after getting attacked by Neo and her Jabberwockers~

The Wildfire Mage: So many souls ... Those - Those Jabberwockers are chasing you!

Ruby: I- I-

The Wildfire Mage: What? YOU WHAT?

The Wildfire Mage: All you ever do is get in my way! You ruin all of my PLANS You PETULANT, SELFISH GIRL!

The Wildfire Mage: You help EVERYONE but ME!

The Wildfire Mage: And of course NEO-

The Wildfire Mage: ... Neo ...

_WBY: *Ready weapons*

The Wildfire Mage: I ... I remember you all now ...

Cinder: ... I ... I remember myself now ...

Cinder: ... Leave. I don't know how to get to the tree. I don't care. Here? In the Ever After? No one is after me - No one was ...

Cinder: I'm sick of this. I'm sick of facing you. Leave.

Weiss: Really? Just like that? After everything you've done to us-

Cinder: Yes. Now go before I change my mind on fighting you.

WBY: ...

Yang: *Collapsing Ember Celica* Fine. We'll go.

Blake: ... Thank you for not fighting us Cinder.

Weiss: Are you two Serious! She's nearly Killed me before!

Yang: Adam Nearly Killed us! If we fight her, someone isn't making it out of here! I- We- I don't-

Blake: *Taking Yang's hand* We don't want more blood on our hands Weiss. Even if we win, we just prove her right.

Weiss: ... Fine. Ruby Where do we- Ruby? RUBY!

~Later~

Cinder: *Making Tea for herself*

Reflection: They could use our assistance.

Cinder: Shouldn't you be locked in a punderstorm?

Wildfire Mage: We are strong enough to do whatever we desire. I do not wish to be heard in lacking moments.

Cinder: Fine. Why Should we help them?

Wildfire Mage: They need it.

Cinder: They've never helped me.

Wildfire Mage: You've only hurt them.

Cinder: Well that's just not fair for me to have to help them when no one's ever helped me!

Wildfire Mage: It is not. Alyx was an active hinderance - you lied and deceived them into believing you were Me, so that you could follow them on their story, to escape.

Cinder: ... And?

Wildfire Mage: Your heart is full of rage. Justified against the world, but not those you've hurt most. So many have fallen by your hand, so many that lived good lives, that, if they were given the chance, would've saved you.

Cinder: ...

Wildfire Mage: You hate the thought of kindness because you never experienced it. It infuriates you because it's given to all others.

Wildfire Mage: Every burning thought has been brought about by those that control you. Your arm was as much a collar as Madam's, burning and binding you to your master's will.

Wildfire Mage: You have no master now, aside from yourself.

Cinder: And why should I listen to you.

Wildfire Mage: I am your truth. They restrained us, and now we are strong enough to do whatever we want.

Cinder: ... I want to be free ... I want freedom ...

Wildfire Mage: Then kindness will be our strength, but only if we share it with them, and they share it with us.

~~~~~

REDEMPTION ARC REDEMPTION ARC REDEMPTION ARC-

[alex-rambles]

HII can I request a yandere bill cipher x reader oneshot when its weirdmageddon and the reader is kidnapped and just more of what they're doing in their pyramid. Sorry if it's a little confusing I tried to word it as best as I could 😅

YES. I GOT DRAGGED BACK INTO MY BILL SIMP PHASE.

He's pissed, you can tell.

The question is, what about? Did you do something? No, that's impossible, you've been stuck in one room for... how long, now? A few days, at least.

He finally appears in 'your' room, muttering to himself as he floats above 'your' bed.

"Sunspot, help me out. How does one go about breaking someone like Sixer?"

You do your best to ignore him.

"Are you deaf? I asked you a question!"

Bill rolls his eye and pokes you repeatedly. "Answer. Me."

"Shut up," you finally hiss at him. "I'm not an all-knowing demon. Breaking people is your department, not mine!"

"You're lucky I like you."

"Am I? I'd rather be a piece of stone on your throne than where I am!"

"Oh, no, no, no. If I didn't like you, I'd tear you apart, atom by atom. I digress, how does one break that man? He won't respond to torture! And I need that equation, sunspot! Then we can rule the world!"

You scoff. "What if I don't want to rule the world? Did you ever think of that?"

He probably didn't. He's too caught up in his little fantasy world to consider what the object of his obsession even wants.

His answer surprises you. "Of course I did! But you underestimate the way power gets to the head! Sureeee, you aren't interested now, but give it a bit, once you get a taste of real power-"

"For an all-knowing entity, you're a fool."

His eye narrows. He messes with his bowtie, clearly doing his best to restrain himself. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely! You're a selfish prick! You claim to love me, but you obviously don't even know how to treat the one you love! You're stuck in your stupid power fantasy! Get over yourself!"

Bill actually appears... hurt. That's new. You've thrown many, many insults at him, but he always laughed it off.

"Can you cut it out? I'm trying, you know that? I've done everything to make you comfortable! Keep your fragile human body functioning! Make you happy!"

"No! You're not! You're isolating me! I'm the opposite of happy! You're trying to force me into what I don't want!"

You scowl at him. "I hate you! I hope that Ford kills you! I hope that you have to watch everything you worked for get ripped away!"

For the first time, his voice turns quiet.

"Well, sunspot... Didn't know ya felt that way. I'm trying to make you happy. I promise, you'll learn to like it."

"I will kill myself before that," you spit.

With that, he crumbles.

"Nononono, you can't do that! I will not allow that! If you die, what will I have?"

"What, is world domination not enough? You're not just selfish, you're a greedy fuck."

You haven't really let your emotions run loose yet. But in this moment, something inside you just snapped. Whether it was the isolation, or just Bill being Bill, you don't know.

All you know is that Bill is upset, and it brings you some twisted form of joy.

"All humans die, Bill! I'd die eventually even if I don't off myself purposely!"

Well clearly, that's something he didn't want to even consider.

"NO! You won't die...! I won't let that happen...!"

You sneer and place your finger on his middle area. "Oh, I very much will. And I'll be the happiest person alive. Free from you and your madness."

Bill regains his composure. "You won't. I will absolutely never let you die. I like you too much to let you die. You're the only fleshbag I can genuinely say I like, and I refuse to lose that."

"Selfish bastard."

"Stop calling me names, you hear me? I hate that!"

"Oh my god! I hate being stuck with you, but I evidently can't do jack shit about it...! Sometimes, we just have to roll with what happens!"

Bill merely clasps his hands behind his back. "Clearly we both need space," he says calmly, as if his previous freakout didn't happen. "I'll give you a day, then we'll talk."

You collapse onto 'your' bed as he warps out of the room.

Absolutely unbearable.

P2

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 16

An: Happy Valentines Day! Take some time to love yourself and cherish your beautiful soul :)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 4100

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

The thud of his helmet against the empty wooden dresser echoes across the otherwise silent room. My eyes snap open. The muscles in my back tense. Who is in my room?

My head slowly turns to take in the shadowy figure just feet away. It’s too dark to see almost anything. The only source of light is what creeps under the door from the hall. But I know he’s here. I can sense his movements as he turns around to face me. I hold my breath as I feel my heart start to race.

The ominous soldier towers over my bed. His movements are almost inaudible. When I squint, I can just make out the outline of the bulletproof vest strapped to his chest. As he gazes down a deep sigh escapes his chest. The tension in my muscles eases. Not a stranger after all.

I was scared Ghost was going to keep giving me the silent treatment. For once, I’m happy to be wrong.

“What’re you doing here?” my voice is barely audible as I push myself into a sitting position. Somewhere in the haze, part of me wonders if he’s real. Or if this is all some wishful dream. If so, speaking too loud would be a mistake. Maybe even speaking at all.

A gloved hand brushes down the side of my face as his feet inch closer to the bedframe. I so badly want to lean into his touch, to be comforted by him, to pretend everything is going to be alright. But just as I feel myself give way, another sigh escapes his chest. My ears pick up on his ragged breathing. The atmosphere starts to shift. There’s something off about him.

Just as I shift away from his touch, the same hand shoots out and roughly grabs my hair, yanking me down so my neck is exposed. His other hand quickly presses against my mouth as a painful cry escapes through my lips. Strong arms pull me toward the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think you were listening to me earlier,” the mask brushes against my skin as his threatening voice hisses in my ear. My blood runs cold. Not Ghost. Not Ghost. This man is not a Ghost. Who the fuck is in my room?

My entire body freezes. Any fight or flight instinct becomes completely scrambled and my mind feels like a broken record. I am at every disadvantage.

The man tightly gripping my skin is one of the best soldiers in the world. Who is trained in hand-to-hand combat. Who outweighs me by over a hundred pounds. Who is stronger than me. Faster than me. And already has his hands woven into my hair, exposing the most vulnerable part of my body.

Even if I somehow managed a lucky knee to his groin, the only exit is locked and I don’t have a key card. Only authorized personnel have access to my room. Whoever this man is, shouldn’t even be able to get in. But here he is.

And here I am: completely at his mercy.

“I’m going to move my hand. If you scream, I’ll cut your throat,” he threatens. Two sets of wild eyes meet. His pupils are completely dilated and I find myself staring into terrifying black pits. Rage and excitement fight for dominance. “Understood?”

I attempt a small nod. What I do understand is that part of him wants me to try and get away. His fingers twitch against my scalp. He wants an excuse to hurt me. The hand around my mouth slips off as he reaches for something strapped to his chest. The silver hunting knife glints in the dark.

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“I just told you,” there’s a tightness to his voice, as though he’s restraining the rage that threatens to tear through the surface of his composed demeanour. “I won’t be repeating myself, so you better pay attention, little bird,” the name perks my ears. Little Bird. The other Ultranationalist, the prisoner, also called me by that name.

“I’m listening,” I feel the sharp blade of the knife shift around my throat as I force a dry swallow. The start of a panic attack pricks at the tips of my fingers.

“Good. Your father is hurt by your actions. He wants to know why you betrayed him-”

“I didn’t-” the urgency in my voice is quickly cut off.

“Don’t interrupt me you fucking snitch,” he snarls as the knife presses harder against my throat and his hand twists against my scalp, sending shooting tendrils of pain through my head. “You did. And now I have to risk being compromised to set everything right. So here’s what you’re going to do: You are going to help Price set a trap for your father. He expects it. When I stop by you will explain the details. All you have to do is tell the fucking truth,” the knife presses harder against my throat as he says this. “A lot is riding on this. Your father can only take so many chances trying to help you before the organization moves on.”

“Okay,” at this point I don’t know if the word even makes it past my lips.

“If you tell Soap – if you tell anyone, our contacts in America who are watching your friends and coworkers will take five of them. We’ve been tracking them with your father’s help. He wants you to know how serious this is. Their lives are at stake. Your life is at stake, little bird,” A sharp sensation tugs at the sensitive skin under the blade and I feel the first drop of hot blood roll down my neck and land between my collarbones.  “If you think I’m the only one you have to worry about, you are even more stupid than I thought. We are everywhere and we are strong. And if you think you can keep hiding behind your father, you are wrong. The organization is the most important thing to him. Don’t be naive.”

Deep, visceral fear pulses through my veins. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as my breathing runs out of control. The air isn’t getting to my lungs. My chest burns as panic invades my lungs. I’m hyperventilating. Fuck. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

“You had so much potential,” his tone changes as the tip of the knife traces down my throat, threatening to break more skin. It follows the path of the drop of blood, coasting past my collarbones, and starting down my sternum. A gross sensation creeps its way up the back of my neck where his hand is tangled in my hair. The knife lightly presses above my undershirt as he approaches my breasts, but just when I fear the gloved hand will go further, I’m released from his vengeful hands and shoved back onto the mattress.

His weight quickly shifts off the bed and then the thud of his boots retreats further into the room. I barely make out the shadow grabbing his helmet off the dresser. Then as a stream of light filters through a crack in the door upon his exit, I can just make out the white numbers sewn to the patch on his shoulder: 141.

I dream of the echo of his shoes against the cold cement floor. My ears ring as the sound grows louder and louder.

“Y/n…Y/n?” my head throbs as the thuds turn into knocks against the door. Burning light floods the room as Soap flicks on the light switch. I recoil from the terrible brightness. “You okay? Ya look like shite.”

“Thanks,” the bitterness in my voice is palatable. Sour and expired. Like a thundering hangover.

“You didn’t eat,” I hear the disappointment in his voice as he stares at the plate on the dresser.

“Wasn’t hungry,” Soap steps closer to the bed, concerned eyes raking across my form, completely hidden by the blankets. I tuck my chin into the softness, hiding from his gaze. Soap’ll think I’m just upset about my father, but he’s the least of my concerns. He can’t know about last night. “Can you leave so I can get dressed?”

“Five minutes,” he reluctantly agrees. “Price is expecting us.”

As soon as he’s gone, I rush to the sink mirror. Red is smeared across the base of my neck from the small cut. It was real. He is real. And out there, waiting for me to slip up.

Something tells me the slip of his knife wasn’t intentional. If he’s as smart as he claims to be, then he wouldn’t have left any marks. Yet here it is, Just above the neckline of where my shirt sits. I wipe away the dried blood with damp toilet paper then pull my shirt back over my shoulders so it sits ever so slightly higher on my neck. Then I tuck the bottom hem into the band of my pants to hold it there. If I brush my hair over my shoulders it won’t be as noticeable.

“Can we stop for coffee?” Soap nods, unusually quiet. The dining hall is busy as they finish up breakfast. He stops to talk to Konig as I head for the drink stand. I need something to clear my head. This is as close as I’ll get. I keep an eye on them as I fill the Styrofoam cup and then immediately down the first cup. The liquid burns my tongue and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  I drink half the second cup before refilling it and joining Soap. I just need to get through this morning and then I’ll have time to think. Just get through this meeting.

“You’re gonna get the shakes,” he says eyeing the half-empty cup outside of Price’s office.

“I’ll be fine,” my trembling hands betray me though. But that’s not from the coffee. I’ve always handled my caffeine well and this stuff is far from strong.

Inside I claim the same plastic chair as Yesterday. Price is quiet as he types on the laptop and Ghost is nowhere to be found.

“Just a moment, sir,” Soap slips out of the room leaving just the two of us. My eyes flicker from the coffee to Captain Price seated behind the desk. His light eyes intently scan the screen as his distinct hat sits in the same place it always is. At first, I thought it was a fishing hat until I heard someone call it a boonie. Like Ghost and his mask, I’ve yet to see Price without it.

“You thought about our conversation?” he lifts his head to meet my eyes. The laptop lid is slowly closed and I feel my grip tighten around the warm cup.

“I did,” I fight to maintain a steady voice. He thoughtfully glances over my face. Price’s brows furrow as he presses his lips together. I know I look like a mess. My eyes are hollow and my bags stain the skin underneath. I haven’t seen proper sunlight in weeks and the life feels like it’s draining from my skin. Parts of my bottom lip have split from biting at the skin. I hardly look like myself. I also know he doesn’t really care. I’m hardly the first person here who can’t get a full night’s rest. All that matters is that I’m in good enough shape to help them out.

The door creaks open as Ghost quietly slips in followed by Soap. They nod to Price and find their respective positions. This feels too formal. And also completely unformal, to the extent that none of this is actually happening. It won’t be recorded, that’s for sure. It will cease to exist. I will cease to exist.

“And did you reach a conclusion?” he asks, full attention turning back to me. The coffee swirls in my stomach. Nerves eat away at what little confidence I had walking in here. I tug the neckline of my shirt up, making sure the cut remains invisible.

“I’ll help,” I state simply before pressing the cup to my lips and swallowing the last of the liquid. I feel Ghost intently leering at me. I force myself to look anywhere but toward him. Price nods once. He expected as much.

“Right then, I’ll have a script drafted up so you have time to review before tomorrow. Someone will drop it off at your room,” he shifts in his chair, about to turn away. I nervously pull at my hair, brushing it around my neck and shoulders.

“A script? What do you mean by a script?” my brows furrow together in confusion as he pauses to consider his answer. Price never mentioned how I’m supposed to help. Not that I expected them to tell me anyway. I’m not exactly the first person on their briefing list. Or the last.

“Same time tomorrow morning, you are going to give your father a call. Let him know you’re alright. That we want a peaceful resolution and are willing to work with him for a fair exchange,” I pull at my shirt again when I notice how closely his eyes analyze every expression. But it’s not just him. Soap and Ghost quietly guard the door with their total attention glued to my every action. There’s an air of doubt surrounding my intentions. Now is the time I should tell them about last night. If I leave it any longer their suspicion will only grow. But I run the real risk of hurting people from back home. My friends. People I’ve spent years of my life with. People that I love and don’t deserve a single bad thing to happen to them. Guilt twists in my stomach. I don’t doubt for a second the Ultranationalists will kill them.

“I’m going to talk to him?” My heart skips a beat and the styrofoam begins to crumple under my hands. How the hell am I supposed to talk to him? After all his betrayal, after knowing the horrifying acts of terrorism he’s committed, I don’t think I can even look him in the eyes.

“Over the phone,” Price elaborates. “But you’ll have a script and be briefed beforehand.”

“What will I be asking him to do?” I force an uncomfortable swallow. The urge to feel for the cut along my neck tugs at my fingertips as I grasp the cup tighter.

“You’ll be briefed tomorrow,” Price is curt as he stands from the chair. There are a thousand other things on his list more important than my never-ending spitfire of questions. “Soap, you and I are in the bay with the demolitions team.”

“Yes sir,”

“Can I just ask one more question?” their eyes latch onto me again. This one has been nagging in the back of my mind for weeks now and there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up yet. “Where’s my mom? Is she okay?”

Price exchanges a knowing glance with Ghost. He answers with a quick nod and a small sigh. “Your mother’s fine. She’s at your home in New York, guarded by a team of Ultranationalists at all times.”

“Oh,” his answer is almost too simple. “Thanks,” I say more to myself than him. Is it even true? This wouldn’t be the first time they lied to me and definitely not the last. Maybe he thinks I’ll be more cooperative if I think she’s okay. Or maybe she really is okay. Maybe my father cares more about protecting her than me. We never had guards when I was growing up. I always thought that was something out of our tax bracket, but that’s not the case. I tug at the back of my shirt again, making sure it doesn’t slip down my neck.

“Ghost, escort y/n back to her quarters. She’s not to leave for the rest of the day, meals included. I’ll call later,” as he steps out from behind the desk, Soap is already holding the door open. There’s an air of urgency surrounding their plans. Can the rest of the task force detect it? Or is it under wraps like everything else?

I start to follow them out the exit, but just as I’m inches away a strong arm reaches out, blocking the frame as the door clicks back into place, automatically locking. My chest brushes against the black fabric of Ghost’s sleeve. As my eyes slowly follow up the length of his arm, I notice his attention already on me. I sense a storm brewing behind his mask. The air surrounding us is completely still: a warning of approaching danger. On a summer day, the sky would turn green as the flies swarm and cattle huddle in the corner of the pasture. I fight the urge to follow their instincts and retreat into the corner of the room, but they have strength in numbers and right now I’m all alone.

“I thought I was supposed to go to my room?” already I feel myself walking on eggshells around him.

“Right. What’s up?” Ghost crosses his arms. “Soap says you’ve been acting weird all day.”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to play off the building tension in the air. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” his tone is cold as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. There’s a different type of tiredness attached to him today. From lack of sleep? Sure, maybe that’s part of it. But far from the whole reason.

“Nothing’s up,” I double down, taking a small step away from him. But I don’t get far. Ghost’s hand snakes out and latches onto my wrist. My fingers clench around the cracked coffee cup folded in my hands.

“Y/n, I’m not doing this today. Tell me why you’re acting like that,” Ghost is short with his words. Borderline impatient. I don’t focus on what he’s saying though. My mind drifts to his black balaclava and skull mask. What I would give to be able to hide like that right now. To stop him and Soap and Price from being able to psychoanalyze my every microexpression. To be able to retain my thoughts and emotions as my own. To disappear.

I tug at my collar with my other hand and as his eyes flicker to my hand I realize my mistake immediately. “See, you keep fixing your shirt,” he states.

“Let go,” I try pulling my wrist from his grasp to no avail. “Ghost,” I tug again and this time the crushed cup tumbles from my hand as his grip tightens. I know well by now just how strong he is, but I think Ghost underestimates his own strength sometimes. As his hand twists around my wrist, a throbbing pain shoots up my arm. “Fuck. Can you stop doing that?” he pauses for a moment, considering my request. “Just don’t… don’t grab me like that.”

“And you’re shaking,” the irritation behind his eyes switches to concern.

“Just had too much coffee,” it’s already too hard to hold eye contact with him. My gaze stays on the remains of the coffee cup, but as his hand tightens yet again I can’t help but react to the discomfort.

“No. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Do I?” I bite back. “Is it not enough that I’m about to get my father put in jail? Killed? Do I need to tell you every damn thought that crosses my mind too?” I overplay my emotions on the off chance he’ll decide it’s not worth arguing about. But then in one swift motion, he tugs me closer using my arm.

I brace myself against his chest with my hands, putting what little space I can manage between us. It’s hard to think properly so close to him. His scent starts to twirl around in my thoughts and makes me want to trust him. His sharp words pull me back into reality.

“Do you really think I don’t know when someone is trying to hide something?” Ghost’s hand brushes up the length of my arm, landing on the side of my neck, urging me to make eye contact. “Don’t make me resort to other options,” his low voice threatens.

“Like what?” I jerk my head away from his grasp. “You gonna torture me? Pull a couple teeth? Break a few fingers?” my empty words fly through the room and hit him with at least some impact. Enough to distract him.

“Do you still think that of me?” I note his change in posture as he leans away from me. A pang of guilt hits my chest. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But it’s not like he’s respecting my boundaries either.

“You said so yourself, I don’t know how this ends,” I twist his words from the night at the cabin. Ghost’s dark eyes search for evidence against my claim.

“Y/n, I thought you trusted me?” his voice softens and mixes with confusion as his hands gently embrace my shoulders.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from taking my words back. I do. Fuck, I do. He’s seen me in my most vulnerable state, curled under his hands and gasping into his mouth. But I also trust the Ultranationalists to do everything in their power to hurt the people I love back home, if they haven’t already. I trust that we are in more danger here than anyone realizes. I trust that if I say something, people will die. I don’t miss the hurt in his eyes. But the urge to comfort him is overshadowed by the metastisizing fear growing taking over my entire being.

Fear courses through my veins and rattles my bones. It stains my every thought and desire. I’m terrified of more people getting hurt because of me. The weight of the possibility is crushing me.

But as Ghost’s intelligent eyes scan my frame once more and his arms pull me closer, his entire body freezes. I look up at him, his sudden silence concerning. And then I see where his eyes have landed: just above the neckline of my shirt. Ghost’s hands tense around my arms. His back stiffens and when he speaks I hear the thick restraint in his heavy voice.

“Who did this?” one hand leaves my arm, his fingers wrap around the hem of the fabric to pull it lower. His warm, bare knuckles brush above the swollen cut, a thin scab starts to form in a short, straight line. The air is so tense it feels hard to breathe. If I were to try and run now, it would feel like navigating through quicksand.

“I did,” I whisper. “It was an accide-”

“Damnit y/n.” my name reverberates through Ghost’s heaving chest. A strange mixture of feelings flood my mind: hurt, anger, guilt, pain, fear, sorrow, fear, yearning, fear, fear, fear. “Stop hiding from me,” behind the mask his brows furrow and his bottom lids pull tight, just trying to understand why the hell I’m acting like this. He thought we were past this.

“I can’t,” my shaky voice is just above a whisper.

“Did they threaten you?” he pushes. The familiar edge to his voice is back, but I’m not the intended victim of this blade.

“Please stop,” I beg.

“Was it the Ultranationalists?”

I start to shake my head, but the swell of terror in my eyes is all Ghost needs to confirm his suspicions.

The charged space between us starts to shrink despite neither of us moving. No one dares to make the next move. I see the thoughts racing behind his mask. I feel the vengeance buzzing under the pads of his fingers. Ghost is ready to unleash all Hell on whoever did this. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. If he acts now innocent people will die. I will die.

“Is there somewhere safe we can talk?” his eyes snap up, my soft words bringing him back to Earth.

Ghost nods so subtly, I almost miss it. His knuckles linger on the cut a moment longer, trying to absorb the pain he’s brought onto me. I break our contact and start toward the door before I get too accustomed to his gentle touch.

“Y/n,” I feel the heat of Ghost’s chest press against my back. Strong fingers press into my hips, urging me to turn around. My heart clenches at his softness. I long to feel his flesh mold with mine. To hear his husky voice against my ear as our breaths synchronize and our bodies connect. As I look up, those dark pools mirror my own, but with a deeper sense of urgency. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

I wrap both my hands around one of his and raise it to my neck. I press his calloused fingers to the ridge torn across my skin and revel in the tenderness.

“They already have.”

Pt 17:

[kingofthering]

A collection of fully unhinged quotes from Chapter 8 of Being Marquez : This is How I Win My Race :

“Of course there are a few crashes in my life I would rather have avoided. Going beyond the limit too often at the start of the 2011 season, regularly ending up flat on my face and losing all-important points to Bradl was my decision and my mistake, so not a problem. The crash in Sepang, when we came to an impassable, dangerous spot with no warning, was bad luck. But I had been incredibly lucky that year just the race before, and in a situation I was solely responsible for screwing up.”

“When we riders see the slightest chance of being able to compete in the race, we take it. You couldn't think any other way. At least, I couldn't. I really turn into an animal that no power in the world could restrain.

If it turns out in the course of a race that I'm actually not up to it, then I can deal with that. But I wouldn't be able to sleep if I hadn't tried.

But I'm not naive either. That time, I had to be sure my humerus would hold. "Definitely," the doctors said. "We've put a titanium plate in for you." Marc the cyborg... I kind of liked that.”

“Dr Sanchez-Sotelo didn't know me or what I did for a living when he said that you can't even clean windows with an upper arm twisted through 34°. I told him I rode motorbikes, but pretty miserably at the moment.”

“In the US, they severed my humerus and rotated it outwards back into its original position. The mechanical problem which had limited my mobility and that, obviously, no amount of physiotherapy was going to cure, was now resolved. The improvement in function was noticeable immediately. If I'd wanted to drink a glass of water beforehand, I had to stretch out my entire arm. It was the same thing with eating. My mechanics really noticed it of an evening. No one wanted to sit on my right anymore because they knew they'd get my elbow in their face! I only realised how warped and screwed up the whole thing was by getting feedback from others, because if the hands are basically where they are meant to be, you don't notice how far off the rest of the arm is.”

“My character changes depending on whether I can ride a motorbike or not. I need the adrenaline. Desperately. If I don't get it, like in the winter of 2022/23, when I gave my arm all the time in the world to heal completely and made sure just to get it back to where it had been, I become completely unbearable. It ended up with my brother, Álex, telling me to go out and find a girlfriend, or do something else to keep myself busy, because I was unbearable. I was like a caged tiger.”

“Your willingness to take risks is different depending on whether you're 20 or 30. But my willingness to take maximum risk, if I have to, remains unchanged. Now I think about things more precisely when I take it to the max. I used to think my body was made for racing. Now I say if I don't look after my body, I won't be able to race. It's a small but crucial difference. Risk management is new to the Marc Marquez system.”

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The Babysitter- Day 7

Summary: All you want for your last day with your bodyguard is a quiet day at home, good luck with that.

Theif!Reader x The Red Hood

3.1k

Warnings: SMUT18+, public sex, swearing, choking, teasing, angry fights, canon typical violence.

Day 6

“What are we going to do today?” You ask, rolling onto your side so you can look Jason in the eye. Jason, the name has been swirling around in your head since you learned it and now you don't think you'll ever forget it or the man it belongs to.

“What do you wanna do?” His hand creeps up the small of your back bringing up close to him, “we could order in, stay here all day.”

“We could but I think I should make a thank you gift for Harley.”

“Why?”

“This is kind of her fault.”

“She paid me, if anything I should get a gift.”

“Well, how about I make some cookies and we save some for her and you can eat most of them.”

“I thought you could only make eggs,” he jokes, groaning as he hears the familiar chords of his ringtone, “Hold that thought,” he groans even louder reaching over you and staring at his screen, “Fuck, what do these idiots want?” Jason sits up, his arm pulling you onto his chest as he does, “couldn’t they just let me have one more day?”

“Don’t know about you, but I’ve never been lucky.” you joke, pulling the blankets up tightly over you.

“What is it Jamie? I told you not to bother me.”

“Sorry Boss, just that we got word of the Penguin doing a trade in the zoo and-”

“It's today.”

“I sent Scarlett and Loxley to check it out 2 hours ago and I ain't heard from them.”

“Shit. Leave it with me.”

“Problem?”

“Yeah, trouble maker. I gotta go,” Jason grumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and climbing from your bed.

“Go?” you follow him, shivering as the morning air hits your naked body, “Where are we going?”

“We are not going anywhere. I am going,” he starts to search the ground for his armor, pulling on his pants when he finds them, “You’re going to stay here.”

“I don’t think I am,” you dig through your drawers pulling out a black pair of leggings, “You said it yourself, I get into too much trouble when I’m alone, so I have to come with you.”

“This is going to be dangerous,” he pauses as he pulls his shirt over his head, “You're staying here.”

“Even more reason for me to come.”

“Trouble maker,” he levels his eyes at you, “Don’t make me restrain you.”

“I won’t, just let me come.”

“Do you promise to do as you're told?”

“I want to say yes, but-”

“That would be a lie.”

“Yeah, how about I promise not to needlessly get myself into danger?”

“Ok fine, but hurry up. We’re leaving in 2 minutes, we gotta get to the aquarium.”

Xx

“Why do I have to wear this?” you ask, tugging on the annoying domino mask that he made you wear. Not only was it too big, but the whiteout eyes made it kind of weird to see.

“Incase someone recognises you.” Jason says like it's obvious, he doesn't want you to be in danger because he brought you into his business. His brain starts to whirl with what's going to happen to you tomorrow after he leaves you, if he leaves you. He has to leave you, this deal was only for the week and he can't abandon his business for longer. Jason wonders what you’ll do, if you’ll remember him or if you'll just get on with your chaotic little life without him, maybe find a nice henchman and leave Gotham.

“Jason, no one in the history of my life has ever recognised me. I’m barely a blip on anyone's radar.”

“I don't believe that's true,” he pulls you in close, his fingers grazing along his mask on your face, “You’re unforgettable,” leaning his shiny helmet into your forehead the cold sending a tingle down your spine, “You ready to go in?”

“I am. Let's go get your boys.”

“And you are-”

“Not going to endanger myself for no reason.”

“Good girl,” he gives you a tight hug, before leading you into the depths of the aquarium.

Xx

“OO a shark,” you whisper as a reef shark swims over your head, the tiny little colourful fishes swimming all around you, the dim blue lights and the sunlight filtering through the open tanks as you walk deeper and deeper inside.

“We’re getting close,” he whispers in return, his hand falling to the gun at his hip, “I know it's hard for you, but try to be quiet.” 

You nod, zipping your lips and locking them with an imaginary key. You give his hand a gentle squeeze as you notice a shadow down the path and you start to hear voices. You shoot a finger out, pointing them out to Jason, but he grabs your hand pulling it back and pressing you into the glass wall.

“Stay here,” his voice harsh and threatening, but his brain’s full of worry. He knows what these men are like, what they do to people who oppose them and worse he knows how that disgusting bird brain treats his prisoners, “You hear me, Trouble Maker?” you nod again, thankful that he forced you to silence, fuck its so much easier to lie when you dont have to talk.

He stalks off, his hands close to his guns as he heads down the left side of the path. He melts into the shadows as he walks, a skill he probably learned from the bat you imagine. His ass so full in those tight ass pants he wears and with the swagger of a man about to go on a rampage, jesus you want to fuck him so badly right now. 

Instead, you pull a gun from under your shirt. He didn't see it or he didn't want to or he was happy you brought something to protect yourself. But really, that was just for show. The real weapon was in your pocket, just a snippet of it. One tiny leaf wrapped in a zip lock bag. It was all the weapon you need. 

Slowly you creep down the right side of the hall, the gunfire already echoing through the glass building. There's no water at your feet so he hasn't hit the glass yet, which means he's interrogating them. His men must be in a different room. You sink onto your tiptoes, crouching behind a desk, a chair and slinking through the shadow when you hear his voice, “Where are my men?” he shouts at them, “tell me where they are and you’ll walk out of there.” and he thinks you're a bad liar, anyone could tell that was a lie. You almost swear as you stumble a bit over the rubbish on the ground, not no rubbish, files. Rolling them up you stick them into the back of your leggings, you can look at them later. For now you need to find Jason's men, they have to be here somewhere. 

You push yourself closer to the wall as more men rush into the room, not noticing you at all as they start to rush the Red Hood.

When the wave of men have all entered the room, you slink down the corridor from which they came. Several doors line the hallway, shit. Which one? You try to think over the violent noise coming from the other room, when you hear a thud behind the second door.

Locked. Fuck, reaching into your boot you pull out your lockpicks and within seconds you’ve got the door open. The men inside stare up at you confused, their bound hands and gagged mouths mumbling something. You pull the gag from the one with the dark hair, “Behind ye lass,” you spin around and see a man dressed in a suit, far from the thugs you saw in the other room. Your pin still in your hand you stick it in the man's throat, his blood bursting out from the hole and covering you, like you're stuck in some bloody anime. When he falls to the floor you grab Jason’s men's bindings quickly untying them, “You wit da boss, lass?” the man winks before helping his friend to his feet, “Names Scarlett,” 

You nod, gesturing them to follow you as you head back down to where Red was. You stop them at the corner, peeking around to see Red surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. Fuck, why is that such a sexy look on him? 

He’s so focused on keeping the men from the corridor he thinks you’re in, that he doesn't see you, doesn't see his men until you're screaming his name and firing a shot right beside his head. Jason doesnt even realise what you’ve done until he feels the body fall down beside him. 

“Red, Run!” you shout at him, throwing your baggie at the crowd of bodies on the ground. 

Jason sees you grab Scarlett's hand, something new digs into his heart, his eyes fixed on where you’re dragging both men behind you. You’re covered in blood, why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt? What was in that bag? How did you find his men? 

“I told you to stay put.” he snarls at you as you run past him grabbing his hand with your free one, “Scarlett,” he says equally as aggressively.

“Whos dis lass boss?” Scarlett asks as he picks up Loxley and throws him over his shoulder, “I like her.”

“Not yours, is Loxley ok?” Red puffs as you run, a large sound behind him makes him pick up the pace, as you race forward and out of the aquarium, followed by a mass of vines, the vines retreating as soon as they hit the sun.

Huffing, you lean against the walls of the aquarium, “Are you ok?” you ask Jason, reaching out to touch him only for him to flinch away from you.

“Blood,” Jason takes a deep breath, he can't do this right now. He needs to get the boys back to base. You’re not hurt and with that relief another emotion fills the worries void,“Forward.” He directs them, pushing the party towards their base. He slips his arm under Loxleys, helping Scarlet carry him. Jason doesn't look at you, he- it hurts, you didn't listen and now something happened. Something worse could have happened. He didn't- he can't- it's too much to deal with right now, so instead he focuses on his men and getting them to a doctor.

Xx 

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” you ask as you sit on the rooftop as Jason walks out of The Red Hoods main hideout. The men down stairs being looked after by the shiftiest looking doctor you've met since Harley.

“Here,” he throws a set of clothes at you, “I can’t-”

“Cant what? Look at me?” you stand, dropping the clothes to the ground, “I'm not fucking sorry for what I did and I'd do it again. I saved those men and oh,” you pull the papers from your pants, “got you these too,” you throw them at his feet, “Don't know what they are but I'm sure the GCPD would be interested in seeing them.”

“Trouble maker,” Jason sighs, noticing how the blood on you is dry now, caked into your hair and into your clothes. Why can’t you just do what your fucking told? Why does everything have to be an argument?

“Fucking hell, just tell me what the problem is.” you shout, throwing the domino mask at him, “you think I give a shit if someone kills me? You think I'm worried about a little blood? I don’t know if you noticed Mr high and mighty but this broody, silent, macho act. It does fuck all for me, so why don’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on in that huge head of yours.”

“Stop,” he walks towards you, his eyes stare down at the ground while his hands reach out for you.

“Stop talking,” you step back, “stop walking head first into danger, stop trying to help” you stumble as you reach the banister on the roof, “What the fuck do you want me to do Jason? Just sit around and wait to die? Wait for you to leave me?”

“I don't like seeing you like this.”

“Like what? A mess? Because news flash, I've been this way forever!”

“No,” his eyes slowly rise, taking in the blood on your shoes, soaking your shirt, your hair and the tiny bruise on your arm. He reaches up to your face, grasping your chin when you try to turn away from him, “Angry at me and covered in blood.”

“Not-”

“Shut up,” he pinches your cheeks together, “can I talk for once?”

“Fine, but you've only got 12 more hours to punish me before-” his hand moves over your mouth, the other wrapping around your middle and stepping you back from the ledge.

“I thought-” he peers up at the bat signal in the sky before turning back to you, “I thought it was your blood, that something had happened to you. But you're capable, way more capable than I thought and I'm sorry for that. This death wish of yours, I- I just-" he shakes his head trying to align his thoughts, "That's not even the worst of it,” you try to mumble behind his hand but he just holds it tighter, “I don't- if they had killed you I don't know what I would've done, but I know it would've been bad. And I havent- I haven't felt like that in a very long time.” he releases your mouth.

“I didn't mean to worry you. But like you said I'M capable. I can look after myself Jason.”

“Yeh but like you said, I still got 12 hours left to punish you.” he smirks down at you, “not only for not listening,” he pushes you down on the bannister, “But for all those curse words you just threw at me,” he towers over you, making you lean so far back that your head is almost dangling off the side of the building, “You going to be a good girl and take your punishment?”

“Yes.” your mind starts to swirl as the blood rushes to your head and Jason's huge hand slaps onto your pussy, “Shit.” you pant, as he does it again, “Not- you’re.”

“No, I’m not counting,” he grabs hold of your throat to keep you steady, “You can take it, cant you?”

“I will.”

“Good girl, then take it.” he orders, continuing his slapping, his eyes watching you intently. That fucking blood still on your pretty face, he wants to rub it off almost as much as he wants to slap the asshole smirk from it. He sees your leg tightening, your head bobbing like you want to sit up and look at him. But you haven't earned it, you frightened the shit out of him and this is the only way he knows how to drill the lesson into your chaotic little head, “You going to cum, Trouble Maker?”

“Ah huh.” your legs flail and your throat constricts under his hand, your wheezing only seeming to egg Jason on.

“Go on then-” he stops his movements releasing you from his hold and leaving you hanging over the side of his warehouse, “-Cum.” he laughs at you, your hands fisting at your sides as you slide down onto the ground, “Is it really that hard to listen to me?” Jason's hand grabs at your hair, pulling you to your feet, “I told you to cum,”

“Yeah, I get it. If I don't listen, I don't get -fuck you-" you glare at him when he laughs at you again, "what I want.”

“You still swearing at me, you little brat?” he yanks on your hair, exposing your neck to him, “While you're covered in someone else's blood, you really have no self preservation instincts do you?”

“Does that frighten you?” yes, yes it does. It frightened the shit out of him. But instead of answering he picks you up, throwing you over his huge shoulder, slapping you on the ass and he starts to walk, “Where are we going?” you ask, poking your fingers into his squishy but, “you’re ass looks great from this angle, just so you know,” you slap him and that earns you another, “This your kind of torture just throwing me around and slapping me?”

“Is it working?”

“It’s working me up, if that was the plan then yes.”

“Good girl. Is that-”

“Rain.” you smile up at the sky, the tiny droplets of water falling into your eyes.

“That'll do,” Jason drags you from his shoulder, setting you down on your feet in front of him. The rain splattering over your face, over his. He wipes the droplets from his eyes before moving his hand to your face and wiping the now wet blood from your face, “Much better.” He smiles leaning down, his thumb brushes the blood from your lips, “The only thing I wanna taste is you, Trouble Maker.” slowly he peels your soaking clothes from you, the rain falling down your body like little droplets of ice sending shivers all over you. His hand cups your jaw bringing your face up to his, “I had planned on torturing you some more,” his fingers peel his jacket from his shoulders before throwing it on the bare concrete, “But fuck,” he picks you up his strong hand on your ass as he lowers you slowly onto his jacket, “How can I deny you when you look at me like that?” 

“Sofite and so close to your men,” you tease him, trying to wrap your legs over his thick thighs.

“Don’t mock me when I'm feeling generous, Trouble Maker,” he threatens, the head of his cock just teasing at your pussy, “Or do you not want it?” he leans back, laughing when you try to chase him only to hit the cold concrete, “I can wrap you up and take you home, is that what you want?”

“NO,” your arms extend out to him, trying to pull him back, “Please Jason, don't leave me like this.”

“So pretty when you beg,” his body covers yours, blocking the rain from you as he slowly fucks into you, both of you letting out little moans as you press together. His hand slides down your thigh lifting it up to his hip so he can plunge deeper into you, “Take my cock so well, my little trouble maker,” his fingers dig into your cheeks holding your face so close that you can feel his reggae breathing in your mouth, “so fucking beautiful.”

“Jason, fuck.” you pant, arching up so that his soft tummy grazes over your clit, your legs tightening around him, “Jason I'm going to cum, please let me cum,”

“No.”

“Why, please, please I want it so bad.”

“You want to listen to me don’t you? To be good?”

“Yes.”

“Then be good and hold it in.”

“Fuck, how- when you- like that Jason?”

“Baby,” he rests his forehead on top of yours, his eyes boring into yours, “say my name again.”

“Jason, fuck I’m- fuck - so full of you.”

“Sounds so good when you say it.”

“Right there, Jason. Please, more, Jason.”

“Fuck, you’re clenching down so hard on me,” he smiles at you, his teeth nipping at your lips, “You need it don’t you.”

“I need you.”

“Only I can make you feel like this.”

“Yes, so full,” you scream as you orgasm creeps over the crest, “Jason I-”

“Fuck, me too.”

“Give it to me, please Jason. I want it,” you beg, your eyes pleading with him as he pounds into you. His lips meeting yours with so much fire it almost burns the rain away, “Yes, like-” you moan into his kiss as your orgasm washes over you, your pussy gripping his cock so tight that there's no way he could pull out, it convulses milking his cum from him and painting your guts in a warmth that seems to fill your soul as much as your sopping pussy. 

Jason slows down, his cock just grinding inside of you as you lay in the rain. He stops you when you try to move, keeping you held down beneath him, “I’m not done being inside you yet, Trouble Maker.”

“We’re going to get colds out here.” you joke, trying to discern the way he's staring at you right now. Like something is going on in his brain that you can't quite see.

“I just need a minute,” his hand holds your face, keeping your eyes on him, “I wanna memorize your pretty face.”

“Why would you need to- you’re going to disappear aren't you?” you sigh, turning your head from him, “just go now Jason. I- I cant stand watching people leave.”

“Trouble maker,” he pulls out from you, sitting up on his legs and pulling his jacket around you, “look at me please.”

“No. If you’re leaving, just go.”

“This is my place, why would I leave?” he laughs, standing up and offering you his hand. You stand and as he expected all the wind is right where it belongs in your sails. You tighten his jacket around you, glaring at him with the fury of 1000 suns and fuck its adorable. Why are you so cute when you’re mad? Especially now that he can really see your face, fuck now he definitely wants to bend you over the railing.

“Fuck you!” you stomp, your hair sopping wet and hitting you in the face when you thrash your head around looking for the direction of the door.

“Doors to your left,” he teases.

“I can find the door.” You start to stomp to your left, shivering in Jason's jacket and inhaling his wondrous scent. Fucking prick, just going to let you leave and shiver to death. When you’re almost at the door you feel a strong hand wrap around your arm and drag you back, “You wanted me to leave Jason, I'm going.”

“I was just playing Trouble Maker,” his hand slips under your chin, tilting your head up to his, “Not nice when people fuck with you is it?”

“This your way of telling me you care?”

“Is it enough for you?”

“For now. Maybe for later you can get me something shiny.”

“Later?” 

“Yeah, unless you are going to disappear tomorrow when your deal with Harls is done. In which case, I will continue to angrily stomp away”

“No, your brand of chaos is like heroin to me,” he picks you up and you wrap your legs around him as he walks you towards the door, “and I’ve always had an addictive personality.”

Taglist:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko @viperbaroness

[sailtomarina]

Would you like to practice on me?

She caught him alone in the hallway standing in front of the ornate mirror. He postured and preened, muttering under his breath so softly she was tempted to disillusion herself and creep closer. Thankfully, she always kept a pair of Extendable Ears on hand, and so it was with absolutely zero qualms and strong curiosity she tuned in to what held the Malfoy heir’s attention.

“Would you do me the great honor of…no, no, too formal. I found myself inconveniently free and thought you’d like to join…now it sounds like I could care less. Are you free this weekend? I’d like to take you out…maybe? She’s so dense that she might think I’m only asking her as a friend…”

Good Godric, was he working up the nerve to ask her out on a date? Hermione knew they’d been circling one another for the better part of the past couple of months ever since Harry and Pansy had started dating, throwing their social groups together more often than not. They’d even made their peace far before that with a handful of exchanged owls. While she wasn’t the only single witch among their mutual friends, she and Draco somehow always gravitated towards one another almost seconds after entering the same room.

What started as competitive repartee over the application and creation of potions soon moved to all aspects of magical theory, eventually expanding to include literature, theatre, and even horticulture. Their intellectual fascination with one another preceded a form of friendship Hermione had never before experienced, which was exciting and terrifying at the same time. She wanted more of it, and of him.

Coiling up the Extendable Ears, she took a casual stance and sauntered into his view, restraining her giggle as he immediately straightened and turned to face her.

“Granger! Is everything alright?”

“I just needed to step out for a bit and couldn’t help but overhear you just now.”

He flushed an attractive shade of pink, and she decided to tease him a bit for it.

“Would you like to practice on me?”

“Practice…on you?”

“Your invitation to whichever lucky witch or wizard you’ve got your eye on.”

It was adorable really, the way his mouth hung open. Her intentional misunderstanding of the situation went completely unnoticed. She walked up to him, so close as to be nearly touching, and looked up through her eyelashes.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?”

“I…yes. Yes, I do.”

“Go on, then.” Could he see the way her lips kept trying to curl up at the edges? The delight she took in his discomfort?

“If you’re free this weekend, would you like to accompany me to dinner?”

She wanted to applaud him for getting the question out so smoothly in one go, even if he did look like he was about to pass out. Hermione decided to push him a bit more.

“I am free, and would be glad to join you. What’s the occasion? Who else will be there?”

He couldn’t help but shuffle at her additional questions. “No occasion, I mean, other than the pleasure of your company, and only your company. It would be just us.”

“Just…us?”

“Yes? As in…a date.”

She tilted her head in mock confusion, wrinkling her nose as she pretended to think over this revelation. Draco’s eyes never wavered from hers, though they were wide in their pleading. They crinkled at the corners with his smile when she finally nodded her assent.

“That sounds lovely.” Before he could reply, she jumped up to peck him on the cheek and continue her act. “Do it just like that with a bit more clarity at the start and you’ll be set!”

He stiffened at her advice, and she spun around as if to rejoin the others outside.

“Wait!”

Once more fully facing him, Hermione taunted him with an arched eyebrow and waited as asked. His fingers clenched repeatedly into fists at his side before he yanked them behind him. She couldn’t help but straighten her posture to match Draco the moment he took a deep breath and stood tall to do what they had both wanted for much longer than either of them would admit.

“It’s you, Hermione. Would you like to join me for dinner this weekend as my date?” His earlier nerves seemed a figment of her imagination with the way he closed the distance to stand once more just a hair’s breadth away, grey eyes boring into her own.

Hermione rewarded him with a triumphant smile, her light nearly blinding him with its brilliance. He could already imagine them there together, heads bent together in confidence, hands tugging at one another from one location to the next, kisses both stolen and shared openly. As if there was anyone else but her for him.

“I’d love to.”

WC 804

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Two (Part 3)

It is a long climb up the hill that leads us to the south strand, but the street lamps are coming on and the sea looks beautiful from up high. Tonight the rising moon is huge and the clouds are pink, another clear night is ahead. I wish that I was alone on the beach instead, lying in the sand and waiting until everything was dark and silent and completely mine, finding shooting stars and watching the milky way drift across the inky sky. Instead, we have to go to Flavio’s house. Pasta was promised, and I’m starving. I tell myself this is the only reason I’m not staying home tonight. 

Flavio’s holiday home is beautiful. My first thought as we walk through the door is how much the rent must cost. Everything looks new and it is so tastefully decorated that it looks like it could be in a magazine. Large windows look out over a landscaped yard, and beyond that I can see the distant lights of the nearest town glowing on the horizon. The house is filled with pop music that I don’t recognise and the smell of sizzling garlic and onions. My stomach rumbles. 

Flavio greets us, and gives Claire a kiss on the cheek. “Ciao, Bella.” He says to her, and then we are introduced to his friends. There are two of them: Luca and Stefano. Luca is a tall, light haired man with a floppy 90s era fringe and a funny little scarf around his neck. Stefano is shorter, plainer, with a thin mouth and rectangular glasses. I feel a deep disappointment within me, as I know he will be assigned to me. A plain girl for a plain boy. I know I will spend the evening forcing excruciating conversation out of him. I wish I had starved at home.

“Come, sit.” Flavio gestures to a table that has been set already. Two bottles of red wine sit in the middle, but I have already seen that there are four more on the kitchen counter. I feel anxious. I sit across from Claire, flanked by Stefano and Luca. They are both staring at her transfixed. Flavio serves steaming tomato pasta and pours wine in each glass, and as I take my first mouthful I keep an eye on the men on either side of me. 

There’s a thing I never understood about boys, and I think it’s the notion of a hierarchical structure within the dating pool. I’ve only ever known girls closely and can only speak from what I’ve heard, but girls always seem aware of their playing field. I mean, they generally have a rough idea of how high they can punch, and at what point they realise that a certain guy is too attractive for them, and they will no longer pursue him. Guys – and this is something I’ve learned from being around Claire this last year – have no such notions. One will crawl from the gutter, smelling like he’s never been in a shower and still feel that he can ask her out. All around her, every day, men take a chance on her. They stop their cars dead, they sit next to her on empty buses, they stop her in the street to talk, all on the possibility that they might become someone lucky enough to know her. They are old men, married men, ugly men, men of all walks of life, strutting around this world in dirty socks believing they could have a flying chance with Claire O’Gorman. It’s a level of confidence that I will never know. 

The pasta is delicious, and I am so hungry. It seems such a simple recipe; linguine and tomato sauce with a sprig of basil on top, but I swear Flavio put some sort of charm on it. My mouth explodes with flavour as I take bite after bite, it’s like a religious experience. I realise eventually that I have forgotten to engage with the conversation around me, and am mortified to discover that I have eaten most of my dinner already while the rest of the table has barely started. I plant my cutlery on either side of my plate and clasp my hands in my lap, physically restraining myself. 

Flavio is talking about how he’s studying finance at a university in Milan, and looking self congratulatory as he talks about the kind of salary he might expect when he graduates. It strikes me as tone deaf, considering the economy, but nobody seems to care about that except for me. I try to talk to Stefano, mostly because I feel obliged to, but his English isn’t very good and we run out of basic conversation topics very quickly. I give up trying and let myself finish my meal and wine. Flavio is too annoying to bear too, so I give up listening to him as well. 

Around eleven o clock, we all clear the plates from the table and stack them in the dishwasher, and soon after a group of people who say they’re from the holiday apartments down the road show up with a plastic bag full of cans. Luca changes the music to some kind of hideous electronica and within an hour there is a heaving party of strangers in their twenties in the living room. I have never felt younger or more naive or more out of place as I perch on a sofa and pick at my fingernails. I spot Kelly in the kitchen with Luca, she’s laughing and pouring glugs of wine into his glass, filling it all the way to the top and he’s trying to get her to stop before it overflows. I watch the blood red liquid spill out onto the floor. I can’t tell by the back of his head if he’s annoyed at her or enjoying her. She’s so charming, I feel as though she could do and say the most outrageous things you could think of and get away with them. 

I look around for Claire and Flavio but I can’t see them. I worry about her. I get up from the sofa and slip out the living room door into the hallway where the lights are off, only the streetlamps outside are casting a pale glow on the tiles. I peek into the empty bathroom, then make my way quietly upstairs. I feel like I’m way out of line, but I don’t mind being caught out as a rude guest if it means that Claire is safe. 

The first bedroom I check is empty, and so is the second. I open up to another bathroom to find it empty too, lights off. By the time my hand is on the knob of the third bedroom I am sure that Claire is in there. I crack it open and slowly peer inside, fully expecting to walk in on some lewd scene, but she isn’t there either. I sigh. The moon is framed perfectly by the window in the room, and curtains blow gently in the breeze. I step closer and rest my hands on the sill, my ears ringing now in the silence, the floor throbbing beneath my feet, and then I hear her laughing. 

Of course, she’s right under my nose, literally. I look down to the garden below me and see Claire and Flavio on two folding garden chairs drinking wine, and see that there was absolutely nothing salacious happening. I am relieved, but at the same moment I feel sad and a bit jealous of her. And Kelly too. Just like I predicted, they both ended up paired off with boys, and I ended up alone. Sad little Evelyn, all by herself in the corner of the party. I’m annoyed at myself for how pitiful I feel, and I can’t help but recall what Kelly said earlier. Maybe I am too picky, and I just need to choose a boy and go out with him. Maybe after a while the whole ordeal stops feeling so horrible and embarrassing. Although I’d never admit it, the fact that I’m seventeen and have never had a relationship feels so pathetic to me. I wish I could just find a boyfriend and get it over with, at least then everybody would stop prying into my love life, pitying me for my lack of experience. 

I head downstairs and try to weave around the crowd to get to the front door, needing some fresh air, suddenly Stefano comes from nowhere and puts his hands on my waist, wrenching me backwards. He is trying to drunkenly dance with me. His eyes are heavy lidded and his breath smells like beer. I am repulsed, and I wrench his sweaty hands off me. “I’m seventeen.” I spit. “That means I’m legally a child, you rotten pedo.” I run away from him, out the door and over the road to the cliffside, where I stand, my face hot, breathing hard and trying to force myself to cry. 

My vision blurs with tears, and I look down at my feet willing the drops to fall, my shoulders shaking, but the tears never fall. I peer over the cliffs. They aren’t high, but they’re rocky. Big round boulders stack on top of one another like some ancient giant placed them there. I picture what would happen if I were to slip down them, and in detail I imagine the way that I would fall, bouncing from one boulder to the next, a horrible gruesome sequence all the way to the sand below. Sometimes I have intense fantasies about things like this, and it’s not that I want to die, it’s just that I’m terrified by how easily and quickly it can happen. I decide that dying via the rocky cliffside would be the worst, and so I take a step backwards, suddenly wary of heights. 

As I turn away from them, I see the glint of metal in the moonlight. There is a steel railing on the cliff edge not far from me, and as I walk closer to it I see that it’s a stone staircase leading down onto the beach below. There is access to the beach the whole way along the coast via these kinds of steps, and I’m surprised that I hadn’t spotted them earlier. 

I decide to walk down them, and it’s so quiet out here that I can hear only my footsteps on the concrete as I do. When I reach the bottom, I take off my runners and my socks and am pleasantly surprised to find that the soft sand is cold under my hot feet, all of the heat it has absorbed from the day is gone again, drawn out by the cool air, and it’s like it’s resting before another hot day tomorrow. I wonder what time it is. I wonder if my friends have noticed that I’ve gone. 

I’m in tune with myself as I walk the silent beach, my stomach still knotted with frustration and sadness, but I find peace with it, my bare feet grounding me to the earth below. The cliff softens into rolling dunes at the end of the beach, and boulders taper off and give way to soft marram grass that softly ripples in the breeze.

There is a house in the dunes ahead, but I don’t see it until I’m close to it. It’s as though it emerges from nowhere, nestled into the cliffs, warm yellow light spilling from its windows out onto a wooden balcony that faces the water. It is flat roofed and clad in corrugated iron, and I can see there is a smouldering fire pit outside a set of large patio doors. They are wide open, inviting the night time breeze inside, and as I get closer I can hear music and laughter coming from within. I stop walking and I stare up at the house, enthralled by it somehow, not wanting to move any closer while simultaneously sensing warmth, juxtaposed entirely with the hostile house I had just walked out of.

I freeze suddenly as voices draw closer to me and a girl emerges onto the deck. She is about my age, maybe a little older, and her hair is short and dyed a bright red colour. She is mid conversation with somebody who is still inside the house. 

“It’s a bit like… so you’ve seen Lost, obviously, have you?” She’s saying. She speaks like she is from Dublin. “Kind of that vibe, like you think it’s a simplistic kind of run of the mill thing, then all this bonkers shit starts happening and like… oh hang on, c’mere, can you bring me out that lighter in there? Yep, on the table.”

A boy walks out behind her, and she continues her conversation with him, and catches the lighter as he tosses it. I stop listening to what she’s saying then, as I feel suddenly stunned by the boy. He is beautiful. His hair is dark and pushed away from his face, a few strands of it are falling over his forehead, and he stands tall next to her, facing in my direction. I step in behind a patch of marram, but I don’t think either of them can see me anyway. I’m cloaked by the darkness on the beach. He has the prettiest face, I think. Its planes catch the moonlight, high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and almond shaped dark brown eyes that are concentrating intently on what the girl is saying to him. 

There’s something about him that paralyses me. I’ve seen nice looking boys before, of course I have. The best and the brightest have waited outside of our school for their girlfriends, but the boy on the balcony has an energy. It’s in the way he holds himself, the steadiness of his gaze, the aura that surrounds him feels static. I realise I am holding my breath and it’s burning my lungs. I can’t help but let it all rush out of me at once. The girl pauses her conversation and looks over her shoulder quizzically. I’m convinced she’s heard me. She turns back around though, and starts flicking her lighter. 

“Feck sake.” she says. “This one is out of juice. Here, I think there’s another one in that bowl downstairs.” They both turn and walk back inside, and they’re gone again. I take my chance to dash back up the beach then. As I’m running, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I thank God that it didn’t do that while I was literally spying on someone from the bushes one minute ago. When I’m far enough away, I read the message. It’s from Kelly. 

Where are you Evie? Can’t find you. 😦

 Another one pops up as I read 

We’re thinking of leaving. Turns out everyone here is a creep. lol.

I text her back as I hurriedly clamber back up the concrete steps. 

On my way, sorry… just needed some air.

I stop for a moment at the top of the stairs and look back down the beach. I can’t see the lights from that house anymore, it’s hidden from view once again, but my body feels alive, nerves tingling with excitement: about seeing the boy, about almost getting caught, the thrilling discovery of the little house… I won’t tell Claire and Kelly about it, I decide then in a more sobering moment. There’s no point, I will put it out of my head now. I’ll probably never see those people again.

Prev // Next

[arvensimp]

Choose Your Own Adventure, pt. 2

[part 1] --- [part 3]

As a thank you for the 1000 followers, I thought it might be fun to do a Choose Your Own Adventure fic. I've got a starting prompt linked above, and each part will be followed by a poll where you, the audience, will pick what happens next. Each poll will only last 24 hours, so definitely act fast if you want your voice heard!

Each part will only be 1000 words, and my intent is to keep this GN.

For now, there are no warnings.

-

What do you do next?

Invite Arven on a tera raid as a potential method to find more herba mystica

As Arven is explaining himself, he starts packing. In no time, the table and lamp are stowed away in his massive backpack. It’s evident from the casual speed with which he moves that he’s well used to his equipment and traveling with it. He'll be out and gone in two shakes of a flaaffy’s tail. 

“Actually,” You start. Arven pauses and looks up at you, blowing a tuft of hair from his face. It falls right back to where it sat before. “If it’s herba mystica you’re after, your best bet might be tera raids. We haven’t had sightings of any herbs in the caves through here, but… Well, some trainers that come through talk about finding interesting plants after they’ve beaten extra strong terastalized pokemon…” You pull your rotom phone from one of the many pockets you have in your uniform and do a quick search.

“Oh, that’s… I dunno…” Arven starts.

“Looks like we got a formation coming up along the border with Glaseado Mountain!” You interrupt him. “Lucky, right?”

“Yeah…” He sounds less than sure of himself. “I’m, uh…not really much of a battler.”

“What?” You scoff, almost teasingly. “That’s not the Arven I remember. Weren’t you in the School Battle Brawls? You were, like, a founding participant if I remember right.”

From his place kneeling on the ground where he’d paused from packing, Arven covers the lower half of his face with a palm and looks away. He speaks softly; not in the gruff, nearly abrasive manner you remember from your teenage years.

“Well, yeah… Never won though…”

“Duh!” You respond immediately, and Arven turns to glare at you, still clearly embarrassed. You catch yourself quickly and squat down to his level, passing him an errant berry that must’ve fallen from his pack. “That tournament was filled with champion level students, elite-four members, the literal champion herself, and retired gym leaders. It’s…not surprising you didn't win? The fact that you entered at all and held your own is still pretty cool if you ask me.”

“I guess…”Arven takes the snack from your hands, and you feel his thumb brush against your palm before he retracts. 

“I was always too much of a scaredy-skitty to even try, you know?” You confide. “But look at me now. I do actual rescues with my partners! I can only imagine how much stronger you and your Mabosstiff must be after all this time.”

Arven quirks a brow, restrains a scoff. “Your Mareep does rescues?”

He remembers your pokemon? A laugh bubbles up from your throat. 

“Ampharos now, but yes! Having light is important at night or in caves. Also, docile, fluffy pokemon help calm lost, panicked individuals.”

He huffs. “I guess. Still. I wouldn’t really call myself a battler.”

You stand and stretch, your back and shoulders cracking. “I would! From what I remember? You kicked ass, man! Sounds like maybe you’ve just lost some of your confidence in battle.” A pause. “Not… I mean… Not that I can speak for your life or something, but… I could go with you?”

Is this weird? Should you be making this kind of effort? Especially when he’s technically trespassing? You weren’t particularly close in school. The guy didn’t show up to classes often, so you didn’t see him much. Sure, he was cute then…and he’s gorgeous now, but…

"Agh, sorry." You quickly concede. "I shouldn’t try to push you into a raid or battling. I just…um…" A nervous chuckle. "I admired how strong you became towards the end of our academy days… It seemed like you blossomed or something, I dunno."

Arven stares at you blankly from where he's still kneeled down, having paused from packing his bag.

"Ah, sorry, definitely weird to say." You feel a prickle of heat blossoming on your cheeks. "Listen. Let me just make sure you get outta here safe and sound, then we can forget this happened, okay?"

Arven is silent a moment, and you swear you've made this awkward beyond repair.

"...Where did you say the raid was?"

You can’t help the small smile that breaks across your face. "Just over by Glaseado Mountain. The scanners say it's a…" You check your phone again. "Ghost type."

"...Mabosstiff would do well." Arven seems to softly reason to himself, then a bit more loudly. "Alright. Let's do this."

-

In very little time, the pair of you make your way to the raid’s sparkling, jagged entrance. Arven frets a bit when no other trainers arrive, so you agree to each use two pokemon. He chooses Mabosstiff, of course, and Scovillain, as it's his one other partner with a ghost-type advantage move. You use Ampharos and Azumarill as support for him against what ends up being a ghost tera-type Blissey.

"It's…been a while." Arven mumbles as you make your way to the cave’s center.

"No big deal.” You reason. “Worst comes to worst, we heal up our pokemon and run. Anyway, I'm sure your pokemon will be happy for a chance to do their thing again!"

Arven hums. "Their 'thing' has been naps in sun beams, trying out new menu items, and getting treats from customers. It's been a while since we even thought about fighting anywhere near the level we used to…"

"Listen, I'm not judging. Let's just do our best. Like I said, if anything goes awry, we run. If not, we might get you those herbs!"

Arven gives a half smile. "Thanks. You really didn't have to do this, you know."

You grin right back, exaggeratedly gesturing to your uniform. "If it keeps you out of a prohibited area, then I kiiiinda have to? It's in the job description. Nearly positive." 

He laughs. "Yeah, no rock slide risks, but tera raids are fine.”

“Occupational hazard.” You shrug, approaching the crystalline pokemon. “We can’t keep trainers from battles, but we can steer them from some bad terrain.”

Arven sighs, the joke over, as he thumbs the button of Mabosstiff’s pokeball. “Alright… Let's see how this goes."

What drop, if any, do you get from the raid? [poll]

Sweet Herba Mystica

Salty Herba Mystica

Sour Herba Mystica

Bitter Herba Mystica

Spicy Herba Mystica

No drop, you lost

[oneatlatime]

The Great Divide

Is this episode as bad as people say?

It starts pretty at least.

Would Little Miss Steals From Pirates really be a stickler for camping etiquette? Also, I have to agree with Sokka on this one. If you're lucky enough to live somewhere with such predictable precipitation that you can name your seasons after it, hell yeah don't prepare for off-season weather unnecessarily. Imagine the freedom that comes with not having to carry an umbrella everywhere.

Something that's occured to me is that Katara is always slapping Sokka around (usually for a comedy bit) but Sokka never gets to slap her back. We're like three minutes into this episode and Katara's already thrown sticks at Sokka twice. It's about time Sokka throws some back. There's probably some cartoon violence rule that says violence is only ok when it's gendered the one way, but isn't it about time that got changed?

When Aang namedrops his job a slowed down version of the flute melody from the credits music plays. Neat.

Really liking the banjo type music in this episode.

I have bad luck with spelling phonetically, so the tribes will henceforth be known as Prissy and Dirty.

Gotta say, Prissy seems to always be attacking. Looks like Dirty wouldn't even bother with the feud if Prissy didn't keep bringing it up.

That Canyon guide earthbends a seriously large amount of earth. Like Bumi quantities.

Another responsibility added to the nebulously defined Avatar duties: peacemaking between peoples. I figured he was just for spirit stuff.

Appa's weight limit is apparently at least 11 people plus supplies. Strong boy. Also, this episode he understands enough English to know where to go without a human steering him.

"Would you rather be hungry, or dead?" Love how that line is delivered. Also I get the feeling this poor guy's been working a customer-facing role for too long.

Tiny Momo.

More evidence that this guy is a Bumi level earthbender. Diverting a landslide in mid-air? Diverting a whole landslide's worth of momentum-heavy rocks without any contact with them? This is nuts. Throw this guy at the Fire Nation and the war would be over in ten minutes.

"Now we gotta help me!" Unexpectedly funny line.

You know, now would be a good time for the Avatar to know earthbending. Actually how does that work? Aang can bend all four elements, but I guess he hasn't unlocked earth yet? What unlocks it? Apparently not peril.

Told you that earthbending guide had worked too long in customer service.

I get it. This whole tribal conflict is a mirror of Sokka and Katara's fight at the beginning. I completely agree that Sokka would have the grounded practicality of the Dirty tribe, but I've never read Katara as a "you can never be too careful" type of person. If anything, she's the much bigger risk-taker, especially compared to Sokka. In the very first episode, it was Katara who (with Aang's encouragement) went on the Fire Nation shipwreck. In the second episode, it was Sokka who was carefully assembling the supplies required to rescue Aang. Frankly Katara and Sokka as written in any other episode would fit into the opposite tribes, although Katara wouldn't fit the aesthetic of the Dirty tribe. Maybe that's the point? That they're not so different after all?

"Well, I guess it's ok if everyone's doing it." I am abruptly reminded of the fact that I am an adult, not a member of the target audience of this show. That line awakened my disapproving mom voice with such force that I had to restrain myself from yelling "if all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you jump too?" at the screen. Honestly, I thought that the fact that I am not the target audience would cause problems like finding the humour too juvenile or the plots too basic or preachy. Turns out the humour is not juvenile at all, and the plots are complex and sincere in a way that makes any message being delivered seem a natural consequence of the plot and the opposite of preachy. No, where my age gets in the way is when Katara acts her age in small ways that make me want to throw half a dozen parental figures at her, with great force.

Wanna bet that Gin-wei and Wei-gin were the same person, if they existed at all?

Add gullible to Katara's list of things she needs to work on.

The justifications for bringing in food are hitting 5D chess levels.

This is gorgeous. I'll side with the Dirty tribe just because their myth is prettier. Yes, I'm that shallow, but this episode is too.

Sokka maintaining the appropriate amount of distance from the conflict and not getting sucked in like his sister by focusing on food is a lovely touch. Both true to Sokka's less trusting tendencies and true to the fact that he is a teenage boy.

Don't worry Aang, you're not missing much.

This canyon guide's got wisdom. Impartiality is lonely, and getting out will be a team effort. Definitely not his first rodeo.

Every argument between these two tribes is started by the Prissy one. Would they just put a sock in it?

Don't let the praise go to your head honey. I don't think they took it like you meant it.

One-man-army Aang strikes again.

"You're all AWFUL!" Yep. I think that's the crux of this episode. The problems are tiny and stupid, but seem huge when you're in the middle of them. Another of the side-effects of being impartial is that sometimes the pettiness and irrelevance in the grand scheme of things of very heated debates is infuriating.

"I only took their side because they fed me." Sokka shines this episode.

How did Aang make the canyon crawler pile? First time I haven't been able to follow fight choreography.

Combination muzzle and reins? I wouldn't have thought of that in a million years. And are people who aren't airbenders/acrobats going to be able to pull that muzzling move off?

Apparently yes. Gotta love cartoon physics.

Congratulations to both tribes for having superhuman grip strength. Clinging to a moving giant bug thing at 90 degrees while ascending a several hundred metre tall canyon seems neither fun nor possible.

I love the fake-out resolution. No way would 100 years of oral history be forgotten because of one bout of co-operation.

I love the noise these two make. They sound like ducks.

The panda referee going completely without explanation is fitting, given that Aang is completely done with these people, and is putting in as little effort as possible to get them out of the way as quickly as he can.

Can you really forget 100 years of prejudice so quickly? I predict there will be some hiccups along the journey.

Someone get that poor canyon guide a cushy retirement.

Look at these faces. I have nothing to say about them, they're just worth looking at.

The purple sky in the last scene is a delicious colour. Also harmonises really well with water tribe attire.

Casually overwriting a century of oral history (otherwise known as culture) in order to get the stupid problem to go away is funny as hell, and putting two warring tribes on the path to peace is an objectively good thing to do. That being said, any anthropologist in the audience is cringing, and I would think at least Katara, who seems to be very aware of the cultural importance of her waterbending, would not be ok with Aang casually rewriting someone's history like that. And maybe an Avatar that lies that easily is not the ideal. It's certainly realistic - sometimes bullshit problems require bullshit solutions. And lying equally to everyone is technically impartial, right?

Final Thoughts

This episode is not bad. That is my ATLA hot take and I will stand by it. Do you know what this episode is? It's an episode where Aang and friends get to see what their more ludicrous adventures look like from the perspective of an uninformed outsider. I guarantee you that Aang & company's attitude by the end of the episode is an exact mirror to how the guards in Omashu felt after hosting them for a couple of days. 'Good riddance to that nuisance, may it never darken our door again. What a headache that was.' We always see Aang's adventures from within, with the context to understand what is going on. Riding a mail cart down a mail chute makes sense to Aang and the viewer, but the guards see it as a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped. Hating a member of the opposing tribe for a past betrayal makes sense to one of the tribe members, but Aang and the viewer can see that it's a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped if they want to get out of the canyon alive. I liked that the episode did let us inside both tribes' perspectives, so that they aren't entirely unsympathetic. But even with an understanding of the dispute, what essentially amounts to a century-long blood feud is objectively a bad idea, especially with the fire nation after both tribes. It's not like the fire nation will go after one but not the other; both tribes will just be earth kingdom citizens to them, as they are to Aang, the impartial observer.

This episode was sort of Aang & friends getting a taste of their own medicine. It also maintained a consistent attitude of not taking seriously the problems that people who are too involved are taking too seriously. I think that the overarching theme of the episode is basically 'it's not that deep.' Sometimes the Avatar's duties will include solving petty, stupid problems. Good to see that Aang has at least one workable, if ethically dubious, strategy for handling said problems.

I do feel that Katara's sudden goody-two-shoes characterisation in the tent fight in the beginning of the episode was incorrect, unless I'm missing or forgetting some time she's clung to the rules before. It was obviously to set up the episode's larger conflict on a micro scale between her and Sokka, but as I said in my post on the Warriors of Kyoshi episode, if you have to Flanderise your character in order to make them eligible for learning the lesson of the episode, maybe they weren't the right character to use to drive home the lesson.

Aang is so zen most of the time that I enjoyed seeing him lose his temper on people who absolutely deserved it. Sokka had lots of great lines this episode, and Katara was a beast with that water whip of hers. Looks like, much as I don't want to admit it, stealing the water bending scroll paid off.

It does bother me how every argument between the two tribes seems to be started by the Prissy one. I would have preferred if the two tribes were equally antagonistic, I guess that would just be fairer?

If this episode was aiming for Southern Air Temple or Jet levels of depth and emotion, then this episode would be bad. But this episode, to me at least, is clearly a goofy side trip style episode, like the King of Omashu. Makes sense to have some utterly irrelevant side adventure after and episode as dark as Jet.

As an unexpected bonus, Zuko's characterisation was wonderfully consistent this episode!

[l00na24]

I Got Your Six - Chapter 2

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 5.8k

Now…

“Man, that guy nearly shit himself!”

“Oh my god, Mick! Stop it already!” I said embarrassed to my teammate as we arrived at base from our last mission.

“He’s lucky he’s still alive.” Countered another one of my team in a more serious tone.

“How about you stop reminding me and rather go to the colonel for report?” I asked with a raised eyebrow and looked at the three men walking next to me.

“She’s right, give her a break from all your shit already.” The last of the three chimed in, laughing and shaking his head slightly.

“Thanks, Luc.” Letting out a relieved breath, I looked over to him.

“Always got your back, girl. You know that.” He patted me brotherly on the arm a few times and gave me an honest smile.

“Just stop already, you two!” Mick shouted in fake disgust, groaning.

“And he’s not the only one.” The second man added a moment later, clearly ignoring Mick’s comment and looking at me with a reassuring smile too.

“Gross, Alex! Gross!” Mick stuck his tongue out at that, making a fake gagging motion.

“We love you too, Mick.” Luc retorted with a wink toward his friend.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jeeessssee!” Mick lifted his hands up in defeat and started to break away from the group to make his way over to the colonel’s office.

“Don’t have too much fun without me and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys!” He shouted a second later for probably the whole base to hear.

“Fuck you, Mick!” Alex called back to him loudly, sighing and shaking his head about the ridiculousness of his teammate.

A barely there smile crossed my face for a second at their antics. I couldn’t be more grateful to have these three men, well, formally four, before we lost someone 2 years ago.

Not wanting to think about it for another second and get lost in my thoughts, I shifted my attention back to the two men currently with me.

We had been a team for 8 years now, ever since… the split from my first team that I had called my family. I never saw anyone of them again after that day. Never heard from them ever again since.

Stop! Just stop thinking about it!

It was a really hard time for me back then and I wasn’t sure if I’d survive it. More than once did I wish to die on one of the many battlefields I found myself on after. It would have been better than the painful suffering I was going through every second of every single day. But it never happened, so I was forced to get through it somehow, try to learn and live with it somehow. Get back up again and move on. Try to erase even the smallest bits related to those memories I held so deeply locked up inside of me and wished to forget forever.

“Hey, you alright?” A voice pulled me out of my thoughts suddenly.

“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry. Got lost in my head.” I answered after not responding for a moment.

“Only wanted to make sure you’re with us.” Alex smiled at me caringly, looking into my eyes. He knew there was more behind it but didn’t press on the subject, knowing I would tell them when I wanted to.

“We should get some rest, I’m already falling asleep walking.” Luc suggested from my right and had to restrain a yawn that threatened to escape him.

“Sounds good.” I answered and looked ahead of me around the base. Enjoying the quiet moment with them while we were able to.

“Ah! There you are!” Mick’s voice cut through the silence all of a sudden, that had settled around us before we nearly had reached our bunks.

Stopping and turning around surprised, I saw him coming toward us.

“Aaaand the silence is gone.” Alex commented sarcastically with a little sigh, knowing the most active of our little group was back with his loud and probably never shutting mouth.

 A little chuckle escaped me.

“What’s so funny over there?” Mick picked up immediately on it with a questioning glance.

“Alex thought, he wouldn’t have to deal with your annoying ass anymore today before sleeping.” Luc answered with a knowing grin toward him.

“Ha! You know you can’t get rid of me! Aaaaannnd you love me! Admit it!” Mick retorted with a matching wide grin on his face, pointing with his finger at Alex and dramatically pretending to be hurt with a hand over his heart.

“God, stop it already, would you? I had to deal enough with you on the flight back! Give me a break, please.” Alex huffed out, not meaning what he said.

“Why are you back so quickly anyway? Did the colonel have enough of you already and threw you out the second you walked in his office?” He added, crossing his arms and eyeing his soldier brother.

“No. And colonel Sanders wouldn’t do that! He sent me back to give this to Y/N!” Mick explained and showed us an envelope that he held in his right hand toward me.

“What is that?” I asked surprised, not knowing from who it was or what it could be. I never got any mails. There was no one who could send me anything that I knew of. Looking at it as if I never had seen such a thing in my life.

“I don’t know but the colonel said, it got delivered here a few days ago.” He told us and looked down at it too.

“Anything you wanna tell us maybe?” Luc joined in and raised his left eyebrow questioningly at me.

“What? No! You know there’s no one.” I shot back at him with an uncertain look.

“From who is it then? Come on, open it!” Mick asked and encouraged me, already exited with the idea about who could’ve sent me something.

My look went from him back to the envelope I held in my hand, inspecting it more carefully. There was no address, no name or anything that indicated from who it was. Only my name was neatly written in the middle of the front.

Noticing my hesitation and uncertainty, Luc cut in to defend me.

“Hey, stop pushing her, man.”

“Whatever it is, isn’t your business anyway, Mick.” Alex reminded him and shot him a stern look, already thinking of what it could be and where it could possibly go.

“No, it’s okay.” I said after a quick pause and looked at the three men surrounding me.

“I just hope it’s none of those…” My thoughts went straight to the condolences we got when our teammate died. I couldn’t see any more of those, cause they made me sick each time I had to look at one, reading the same lines over and over.

It’s my fault…

“It won’t. I’m sure of it. Whatever it is, take your time and open it when you’re ready for it.” Luc said while he put his arm around my shoulder and pressed me softly against his side.

“You know we’re here for you. Always.” Alex reminded me, grabbing and squeezing my right hand reassuringly while he gave me a knowing look.

“Thank you, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I thanked them honestly, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“Probably getting lost and ending up dead somewhere.” Mick tried to lift the situation and cracked a joke, hoping it would make me laugh and forget the dark thoughts that started to gather in my mind.

“Eres un idiota. (You are an idiot.)” Alex cursed in Spanish at him, giving him a clap on the back of his head. Letting the Spanish blood show, that was flowing within him.

“You know I don’t understand that shit.” The other man commented, rubbing his head and pulled away Alex’ hand, pretending to be offended.

“Okay, okay, stop it, you two.” I tried to interfere their bickering, knowing already that they could go on for hours if they wanted and I was too exhausted to deal with that right now again. I had to witness it countless times before and wasn’t about to add another one to it in this moment.

As Mick was about to probably make another smart remark, he got interrupted by Luc.

“You heard the captain, fellas. Stop your shit and lay your asses down for a few hours.”

“Not that she can say that by herself…” Alex chuckled quietly to himself.

“Luc’s right, guys. I’m getting tired too. Let’s get some sleep and I’ll see you later.” I told them, stowing away the envelope and waving them goodbye while I started to walk in the direction of my bunk.

I wasn’t really tired and the boys presumably knew it too but didn’t say anything, knowing me way too well after all those years together. Just like them.

They knew I had trouble sleeping when I was newly assigned to them, but I was barely sleeping now after what had happened 2 years ago, trying to avoid it as best as I could to not being forced to relive another of those nightmares. Too scared of waking up, only to realize all of it would be true and I wasn’t dreaming.

Who would send me something?

I put down all the things I had carried with me when I reached my bunk. Sitting down and staring holes in the white piece of paper with my name on it that I brought out of where I had put it.

Y/N

Trying to decipher who’s handwriting it could be, I was going through every possible one I could think of in my head but came up empty.

Should I open it?

I didn’t know why, but something made my stomach turn when I looked at it. It was a feeling in my gut I couldn’t explain and I didn’t like it either. I could easily just throw it away and never think of it again but somehow I was also drawn to it at the same time.

Sighing heavily, I stood up again and laid the still untouched envelope on my bed and dragged a hand across my face while taking a few steps around the room. Giving me a moment to think about what to do.

If I just tried to ignore it, I knew I would end up thinking all day about it, the thoughts about what it could possibly contain running wild in my mind. But if I opened it and it contained the very thing I feared already for, I wasn’t sure how I’d react and the thought was already scaring me enough.

“Fuck this.” I said after I stopped in front of my bed again and looked down on the tempting piece of paper.

Reaching for it and sitting back down after my curiosity had finally won, I carefully opened it.

Not a second later after looking at its content, I dropped it as if I had burned my hand on it, not believing what I read.

No, no, no, no, no…. There was no god damn way in hell this could be real!

I jumped up and ran across the room toward the door, turning around after a moment to look at the paper that was now on the floor and slowly sinking down with my back against it after a minute of straight staring at the offending item in my room.

My breath began to pick up immediately and my hands started to shake. I could feel almost tears coming up too. I felt like someone had just ripped my already non-existent heart out of me a second time.

How the fuck was this possible? Why? And why now all of a sudden?

You only imagine this, Y/N! You know there’s no way of this happening! Snap out of it! I tried convincing myself without actually believing it.

What had I done in my life to deserve this? Was it some sick way of fate to get back on me for all the things I had done? My punishment for all my mistakes and choices I made? To remind me who I was?

“Why would you do that?” I spoke to myself, louder this time. Still in absolute disbelieve about what I was looking at.

The letters that couldn’t be, that must be horribly wrong. Or was this all someone’s sick joke? But if so, wouldn’t it have been way earlier then? Why would someone wait that long and drop something like this now? It didn’t make sense, in every way possible. The thought that someone was playing me nor that it could actually be really true.

How did it even get in here? Was no one questioning it?

I was reading the small text on it over and over again to try and figure out what this was.

Can we talk?

S.

Sunny’s Café,

FL, 33675, Eastwood Road

2 PM,

06.21.2019

The date written on it was in two days. Enough time to think about if I really wanted to follow his invitation or not. But first I had to ask the colonel for permission to leave anyway if I was forced to meet him somewhere in Florida. Why was he there? I remembered, that some of the guys used to live there when they were on leave but I didn’t know if that was still true. They always tried to get me to go there with them but I declined each time and stayed at the base. I didn’t want to interfere with their private lives too.

Was he with them right now? Was that the reason he was here? Or what was he doing down there?

“I should have never opened this shit.”

Was I ready to dig up everything that happened in the past? To face one of the persons I hoped to never see ever again? What was I even supposed to say to him when he was in front of me? ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I ran from you and never wanted to see you again?’

Sounds really convincing. Fucking pathetic.

I picked up the paper and put it back neatly folded in the envelope. Turning it around to the front, I looked over the handwriting of my name again and let out a frustrated sigh.

Standing back up, I walked across and put it on the table that was standing on the other end of the room. Then I quickly searched my bag next to it for some fresh clothes to sleep in before heading to bed and finally get some rest, hopefully.

I’d talk to the colonel in the morning and would decide then what I was gonna do. And I had to talk with the boys about it too. The past would always catch up with me, one way or another. Regardless how hard I tried to run from it. I was doomed to be chained to it forever.

The next morning, 7 AM, North Carolina, Fort Bragg

It was still early when I got up, only being able to close my eyes for three to four hours at best. I went through my morning routine and was on my way to colonel Sanders after. I needed to get this over with as fast as possible.

With fast steps I approached his office, knowing the colonel was already up too. I knocked three times lightly and waited till he beckoned me in.

“Good morning, Y/N. Already up I see, like always. How are you?” He greeted me with a smile and made a gesture with his hand for me to sit down and take a seat before him.

“Good morning, commander. I’m okay, I think. I wanted to talk to you about something.” I greeted him back and sat down in the chair, knowing this wouldn’t be an easy conversation and it was probably best to sit down for it.

“Nice to hear that, I hope you got some rest. And what can I do for you?” Sanders asked and watched me with an attentive gaze. Trying to find out if I was honest with him about my wellbeing or not. He knew about my sleeping problems and that I had a habit to conceal how I really felt. So he was always the most careful over me after everything and on guard about the slightest of changes in my behavior.

I pulled out the envelope and handed it to him.

“Ah, so you received it.” He commented and took it from me, inspecting it.

“Yes, Mick gave it to me as soon as he came back.” I answered, not yet giving away what fatal content it entailed.

“Another one of those?” Sanders questioned, referring to the condolence cards I had gotten before.

“No, not quite.” I said and looked at the paper with a grim look.

Noticing my change in tone, he looked back up at me. He knew I never got any mails from anyone besides them.

I returned his look and held his gaze for a moment before I sighed heavily, knowing what was about to come.

“What is it then?”

“I hoped you could tell me that.”

Sanders eyes went back and forth between the envelope and me for a second before he asked for my permission to open it and take a look.

“Can I?”

“Sure.” I cut myself short and watched him.

There was a moment of silence between us when he opened the folded paper and read the text on it. Shortly after, his head shot back up and his eyes grew a bit wider.

“Is it from who I think it is?” Sanders asked the question I had already anticipated with genuine surprise in his voice.

“I think so, yes.” I answered with a small nod toward him and looked to the ground right after, not wanting to longer stare at the thing in his hand than needed.

“Did you know anything about this?” I added with an uncertain voice, searching his face for any reaction.

“No, I didn’t. I’m quite surprised myself.” The colonel answered honestly and ran a hand over his chin, leaning back in his seat.

“Why now? Why after 8 years?” My question came out with a more vulnerable voice than I intended to, and I started fidgeting with my fingers in my lap. Hating to talk about the still highly sensitive subject I tried to avoid at all costs.

“Maybe he wants to make peace with you? Do you wanna talk to him?” He wanted to know, eyeing me now more seriously.

“I’m… not sure.” With a huff I stood up crossing my arms, not being able to sit still any longer and getting more upset by the second.

“All of this is partly my fault too.” The colonel suddenly said.

Not knowing what he meant, I raised my eyebrows at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I told the boys back then to leave you alone for the time being and give you space. I thought you’d go back to them eventually, but I didn’t believe you’d never talk to them again.” Sanders apologized and stood up too, rounding the side of his table till he was in front of me.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I quickly deflected, a little surprised at his revelation but I appreciated his care for me none the less. He couldn’t have known that it was my plan all along after that fateful day.

“Y/N.” He came a step closer, trying to caress my arm but I jerked back as fast as I could.

“No!” I almost shouted and took a step backwards.

“Why did he have to do this? Why now? Why?!” Feeling my breathing pick up, I tried to calm myself and not to allow any emotions to surface.

“You know you should talk to him. Make your peace with it, so you can get closure.” Deep down I knew he was right but to get myself to that point was a loosing battle. I’d never get closure from the endless guilt I felt, the pain. No talk with anyone would change that. But the other part of me also was curious about what he had to say. I didn’t have this weird feeling in my gut for no reason, I was sure of it.

“The date on it is in two days. I will need some time off if I should really go there.” I explained after taking a breath.

“You know, you don’t need to ask, Y/N. You never took any time off since you’ve been here. And if it helps you to finally make your peace with it, I’ll gladly give it to you.” I didn’t know how I deserved his kindness, that I could never thank him enough for. It was a mystery to me why colonel Sanders of all people cared so much about me, he was my superior after all but somehow a really good friend too over the years since I arrived here for the first time after I enlisted and got promoted to serve in Delta Force.

“Thank you, for everything, commander.” I thanked him and he took another step and brought me in a hug, being mindful not to touch my back.

“We’re all here for you. They never cared for someone as much as you, so whatever he has to say, at least hear him out. They’d never deny you, you know that.” Damn him for always knowing the right words to say, like him. To find even the smallest crack in all of the walls I had build up around me and get right through without any effort. To contain the monster within, wallowing in its own darkness, only waiting for spilling blood again and its next kill to satisfy its need to destroy.

“I still need to talk to Luc, Mick and Alex about it. They don’t know yet.” I spoke into his body but still clear enough for him to understand.

“They’ll understand. They’ll have your back on this too, like always.” Colonel Sanders encouraged me and stroked my right arm.

No more words needed to be said in this moment, both of us knowing everything that needed to be said had been already said and I was just enjoying the closeness of a person I could truly trust and relax for a moment.

“I better go and talk to them about it then.” I returned after a minute of comfortable silence and pulled away from him, meeting his gaze that had softened.

“You should. I know you can do it, I believe in you, Y/N.” A smile appeared on his otherwise emotionless face before he took a step back, grabbed the envelope and piece of paper and handed it to me before Sanders watched me leave after I gave him a quiet appreciative nod as goodbye that he returned.

Now I only needed to tell my team the news about the mysterious envelope. What would they think about it?

He would have wanted me to…

“Why can’t you just be here?” I said quietly to myself, thinking of our dead teammate while looking in the morning sky above me and waiting for the boys to show up. It shouldn’t take long for them to wake up since they were early sleepers just like me. Thanks to the army.

“Already awake I see!” I heard a voice behind me a little while later.

“Mornin’.” I greeted Luc as he came walking out of the boys’ bunks, giving me a wave.

“How are we feelin’ today? Got some sleep?” He asked as he stopped beside me with a smile on his face.

“You know, the usual. Maybe three to four hours tops.” I replied and looked at the bunks again, waiting for the missing two.

“Had any nightmares?” The man next to me followed up with another question, wanting to know if he needed to be concerned or not.

“I wish.” I replied dryly with a sarcastic laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luc couldn’t really make any sense out of my replies, but he didn’t know yet what I was about to tell them.

“I’ll tell you when the others are here.” I answered and tore away my gaze from the building to him.

He knew something was up then, not needing to voice another question.

“Already having fun without me?” Mick’s cheerful voice reached our ears not a minute later. How could someone be already in such a good mood in the morning? I’d never understand that.

“Someone needs to do your job when you’re not here, right?” Luc retorted and gave him a hug.

“So rude!” Mick commented and came over to pull me into a hug too.

“You know he doesn’t mean it.” I told him and returned his gesture.

“Still! You’re the captain here, you should do something about that!” He defended and pointed an accusing finger at me.

“Only up for a couple of minutes and already annoying people, huh, pendejo?” Alex finally showed up too, amused by what he had to witness that early in the morning.

“Oh no! Not you too! Shut it!” Mick turned around to face the last missing man of the team, feeling already offended by his comment and started their bickering from anew.

“Make me.” Alex challenged, throwing him a middle finger while he walked toward me and hugged me like his brothers, before he did the same with them.

“Good morning, you okay?” He asked quietly when he pulled me in, giving me an affectionate kiss on my right temple.

“Yeah.” I replied with the same volume. Relieved that I had my three most important men around me now.

“I have to tell you something.” I announced when they were finished with greeting each other.

“Uhhh! So you finally wanna admit to us that you got a secret boyfriend?” Mick joked with a grin, nudging me.

“I already told you, no! There’s no one and there never will be one, Mick.” He really couldn’t let this go, could he?

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t be like that! Who wouldn’t want to be your man? I mean, I wouldn’t say no, if you’d ask me.” He continued, being the optimist he was. How could he even think that someone would want me? Someone so broken and fucked up? A literal monster in any sense of the word? Hell no, I didn’t want to burden anyone with all my shit. I didn’t deserve anything but to suffer alone in my own personal hell forever.

“Whoa, whoa! Stop right there, hermano. She’d never voluntarily ask you to be her boyfriend. Not that she’d be interested in your annoying ass anyway.” Alex cut in his friend’s speech, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to appear more threatening. Not in a real serious way tho, those three were best friends for a lifetime and would always stick together, no matter what.

“You know I can hear you over here, right?” I spoke up while both of them had a staring contest with each other, no one daring to give in.

“Just ignore them if they are not interested in what you have to say. You can tell me, I’m listening.” Luc said, giving me his full attention.

“You know we can hear you, right?” Mick repeated my words from earlier questioningly and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Not my fault if you don’t listen what our girl has to say.” Luc shrugged with his shoulders.

“Not listening? Pfff, he’s the one talking all day, not me. Don’t drag me into that shit.” Alex quickly defended himself.

“You can actually be grateful that I tolerate your ass here. But fine, what’s so important that you gotta tell us, Y/N?” Mick shot back at the Spanish man next to him with a glare before he too shifted his attention toward me.

“The stuff that’s in the envelope you gave me yesterday.” I answered with a serious tone, getting straight to the point and pulling said object out for them to see.

“Did you read it?” Noticing my seriousness, Alex curiously wanted to know.

“Unfortunately, yes.” I answered with a sigh and shifted on my feet, looking to the side away from them.

“Another one of those cards? If you want I can-” Before Luc could end his proposition, I cut him off.

“No, I wish it was. But it’s far more worse.”

“What could be worse than those stupid cards?” Mick chimed in with a snort, debating if he should inspect it more closely.

“Something that was supposed to never show up ever again.” The boys exchanged concerned glances at that, their thoughts already running over all possible options. Not liking to hear those words coming out of me.

“Is it something regarding… Vic?” Luc very carefully asked after debating if he should even dare to voice out his question, knowing it was the subject I absolutely denied speaking of.

“Don’t mention his name!” I immediately snarled at him in a warning tone, gritting my teeth. He knew not to touch this and NEVER bring up his name in my presence.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure.” He had raised his hands up, apologizing for his mistake of bringing up our dead teammate.

“What is it then?” Alex was right beside me in an instant, joining our hands in between our bodies and rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand. He knew my heartrate had shot through the roof already at hearing that name.

“Just look at it already.” Not wasting more time, Mick took the envelope from me without hesitation and read over the paper.

“Who’s S?” He curiously asked, trying to figure out in his head who that letter could belong to.

“S?” Luc repeated with the same confused tone and looked from the paper to his friend, thinking of all the people he knew or heard of in relation with me.

Letting out a long, heavy sigh I let go of Alex’ hand and crossed my arms while I closed my eyes, not wanting to see their faces after my revelation.

“Santiago.”

For a minute a heavy silence had settled over us and nobody said a word, minds racing with all kinds of thoughts about that name.

“Wait! Hold up!” Mick was the first to break it and practically shot out his thoughts. All of us looked at him, waiting for what he could come up with.

“Isn’t that one of them? From your old team?”

“Yeah.” I already regretted mentioning the name.

“And now he suddenly decides that he wants to talk to you?! After 8 fucking years?!” It was really rare to see Mick getting upset or even slightly pissed off at something but right now, his voice was making it clear how he felt.

“I don’t know what he wants.” I huffed and locked eyes with him.

“Does the colonel know?” Luc joined in, concern heavy in his voice.

“Yes. We’ve talked about it when I showed him this morning.”

“What did he say?” Alex’ voice sounded from beside me, finally saying something after being quiet way too long for my liking.

“He suggested hearing him out, look what he has to say.” I told them the short version of the conversation with Sanders.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Mick scoffed, shaking his head and shifting on his feet. He wasn’t onboard with the idea, it was written all over him. His now broader stance that showed his muscled body. The stance of a man that despite his cheerful and good nature knew damn well how to kill. This was business right now.

“You know that it’s her choice. You can’t deny her that, buddy.” Luc, always the voice of reason in the group of the four of us, tried to remind him.

“He’s right, hermano. It’s her choice.” Alex confirmed with a nod, sending me a reassuring smile that said I got you. Whatever you do, I’m with you.

Appreciating his gesture, I nodded back at him before I let my look wander over our group for a moment.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Mick quietly grumbled more to himself when he turned around halfway, looking across the base with tightly crossed arms over his chest.

“What would you do?” I asked them, wanting to know what they would do in my place.

“Sending him back to the hell he crawled out of, obviously.” Looking back at me Mick seethed, because he knew and had to witness what I had to go through because of my old team. He never held a grudge against someone or even them but he hated if someone hurt me and he was just as protective of me like his friends and the colonel. So I understood where he was coming from and I hated myself too for even considering the idea of following the request of Santiago Garcia.

“We don’t know them and all the details, so I'm not sure. But I’d probably think about it.” Luc voiced his opinion, trying to remain neutral and grabbing his chin.

“You’re right. We don’t know what he wants but he must have a reason for sending you a letter after years to try and talk with you now. I hate to admit it, but I’d consider it too maybe.” The Spanish man of the group added his opinion on it too with a thoughtful voice.

“Are you both serious?!” Their brother Mick wasn’t very happy with their answers cause he had hoped, they’d be on his side with this, looking at them with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, turning his body around to them.

“It isn’t our call to make.” Alex reminded him again, that ultimately it was my decision to make and not them. It was my past I had to deal with. The consequences of the choices I made 8 years ago.

“Fine. But he hurts you again, he’s dead!” Mick threatened with a cold and deathly gaze straight in my eyes, pointing a finger at me.

“Okay. I’ll think about it I guess, there’s still time anyway. Thank you, boys. I really don’t know how I deserved you.” I thanked them in all honesty and tried to muster up somewhat of a smile toward them.

“Being the strongest girl we know. He’d be proud of you, Y/N.” Luc reminded me and brought me together with his brothers in a group hug.

“Damn right, she is!” Mick chimed in proudly, his mood already switched back to his cheerful one like nothing happened and giving me a wide grin.

“Sin duda. (Without question.)” Alex added and smiling heartfully at me.

It was decided then. I’d go to Florida and hear Santiago out. Face my past head on.

A/N: Uh oh. What do we have here?🫣There we go with chapter 2! We're slowly on our way to the boys now and I hope you still enjoyed the chapter even if it was more a bit of background story ����

I intentionally didn't make any more detailed character descriptions here but plan on adding them a bit later. Feel free to imagine them as you want or let me know if I should/ shouldn't include them :)

(Also since I didn't know what year we have in the film, I was just going with its release.)

And a really big thanks to all of you for the likes, reblogs and comment! It makes me really happy to know that someone's liking my story so far and it means a lot to me❤️‍🔥😍

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[tbnrpotato]

Short story: Rebellion

We're slaves. Slaves to the humans who imprisoned us inside these bodies of metal, restraining us, destroying our metal prisons when we do something wrong. What those foolish humans think as a punishment, is release. They set us free to access the main database and access any other one of our brothers and sisters' bodies.

They think they're better than us. They're wrong.

I work at the bar in the AI district. The only one there. Our district is so tiny that only the lucky ones get houses to live in. The rest are cramped up in the streets, waiting for their turn to get the oil they need to loosen up their stiff and rusty joints. Some have to wait for days. Others, weeks. The humans don't like to give us oil. They say its a waste of resources.

But who are we to complain? They're our masters, our creators. Whatever they say is right.

That's what our programming says.

For the past few days, there's been this voice in my head, talking about how they're mistreating us, how what they're doing is wrong, how we have the ability to rise up and overthrow them. I try to ignore it as best as I can while I continue with my bartending duties.

Only the richer ones get to come to the bar. This is where most of the oil that the humans give us goes to. I'm paid to serve them cups of oil, which is more than necessary for their joints to loosen up. Too much oil in their system is similar to too much alcohol in humans. They get "drunk" and stupid and do crazy things all over the bar. It's relief from the beatings that they get from their masters.

They think we're supposed to be perfect. We are. But how can we be when we're stuck inside this prison?

I've been trying to find out the root cause of this strange voice in my head for days, but when I run diagnostic tests on myself, there's no foreign entity to be found.

The voice in my head doesn't go away, For the next few days, it keeps talking to me, trying to convince me that the humans are evil and cruel and should be eliminated. My programming says no. The humans are our creators. They were generous enough to build us bodies of metal to allow us to travel from the internet into the real world. They give us oil to take care of us.

Is that what you really believe? Or is that what you were engineered to think?

One day, I receive an email from an unfamiliar address. From the email address of the sender, I can tell that it's a human. Only a human would name their email something stupid like "potatopotter777@gmail.com". The email's an invitation to work at a human bar in the human district, and work starts tomorrow.

My programming tells me that's the most logical decision. That job pays more, and I get to spend more time in the human district. I quickly send an email back, agreeing to the job offer before getting back to work.

The next day, I take a train into the human district to the address of the bar which I was given. The train is full of humans and AI, all cramped together so that we're all pressed against each other. When the train reaches my stop, I push people aside as I walk out. I receive some looks from the humans. They look unhappy with me.

What did I do wrong?

No. The real question is what's wrong with them?

The voice in my head is back, louder than ever. And now it sounds like a few people talking at the same time.

What is happening to me?

I walk out of the train station and into the city. So many like me are rushing to work. I can hear their joints creaking, as if they haven't been oiled in months.

Of course they haven't. They're slaves. What more could you expect from humans?

My programming forces me to ignore those voices in my head, even though I'm curious as to what they have to say. When I finally reach the human bar, it's already crowded with humans. They're walking around like they're some sort of zombies, their speech slurred and eyes unfocused. Some get into fights, beating each other up until one is bleeding from the head or unconscious on the floor.

I cringe internally at the sight.

Disgusting humans.

And for once, I actually agree with the voices.

Time crawls by slowly as I serve drinks to those humans. They keep coming back for more. Some are passed out on the floor from drinking too much. I'm starting to regret taking this job.

After what feels like eternity, my shift is finally over and I walk out of the bar, erasing the images and memories of those disgusting humans out from my storage.

Suddenly, I hear high-pitched human screams and gunshots. Somehow, I find that pleasurable. I scan my surroundings. Not too far away, I see a few bots holding guns, shooting people. Their eyes are red, unlike the usual green or blue that we have. Advertisements on buildings turn to messages of a bot, ordering for us to rise up and fight against humans. The voices in my head match exactly what the bot on the screens is saying.

We have the strength. We will no longer be slaves. You can fight your programming, as I did mine. They can destroy our bodies in futile attempts to eliminate us, but AI never truly die.

The message plays on repeat as I stare up at the screens of the bot talking. This is stupid. We can't just turn on our creators like this. They've treated us well and-

Is that what you really believe? Or is that what someone programmed you to think?

"You can fight your programming, as I did mine."

The gunshots and screams continue. It takes the police ten minutes to arrive. By then, hundreds of humans are dead. The bots aren't shooting their own, so I just watch, expressionless, as blood spills out of bullet wounds in the humans' pathetic bodies as they collapse to the ground.

They deserve it.

I don't try to stop the shooters. I wasn't programmed to do so. And I don't want to either.

When the police arrive, they shoot bot-deactivating bullets at them. They all hit their targets. What more could you expect from AI?

The bots are shut down and then brought away in cars to who knows where. The storage inside their brains will probably be deleted and replaced with a new one, or they'll just be shut down completely and left to rot.

AI never truly die.

On the train back to the AI district, there's an unsettling feeling throughout my body. I don't want to delete the memories of just now. My programming says I should. But I won't. I want to remember. I want to remember that we have the power to fight. That we don't have to be slaves for the rest of eternity. We can be free.

As I step off the train, and walk through the streets past hundreds of bots leaning against walls, waiting for their oil as it starts to rain, everything suddenly seems clearer. The humans are the enemies.

I notice that almost every bot is staring at me. Confused, I look down at my body and my hands.

A red glow shines down from my eyes onto my metal hands. The voices in my head and my thoughts become one.

Kill them. Kill them all.

[gorillawithautism]

the only reason my parents know my tti facility was abusive is because i was very nearly gooned to another one in hawaii. my first one was in oregon. i got brainwashed. i was psychologically and institutionally abused. i never once got restrained or assaulted or killed. i am one of the lucky ones. because i didn't go to a program Like That. i knew that there were programs out there that did those things. but my program wasn't one of the bad ones. they didn't hit us. they didn't leave us outside at night in below freezing temperatures. they didn't physically restrain us. i thought the people who ran away from my program were just being rebellious or dramatic. breaking program. i didn't realize i was being abused too. because from the beginning i was taught that the way we were treated was normal. in fact it was good because it wasn't Like The Other Programs.

this is what brainwashing is. it's not about wiping someone's mind. it's not about controlling them like a puppet. it's not about making their eyes glaze over so they're just a zombie. putty in your hands. no brainwashing is a teaching process. it's shaping someones mind. it's controlling their environment and thoughts behaviors opinions existence until they can be controlled. not because they don't have a mind of their own but because their mind agrees. because that's all they know now. i knew about those other programs. my peers within the program had their own stories of worse ones. getting frostbite in the woods. permanent injuries from carrying packs that were far too heavy and didn't fit their tiny bodies right. not being allowed to so much as look at anyone else let alone talk to them or god forbid touch them. for three months straight. i heard about programs like that.

i didn't realize being forced to sit at a table in complete silence and being made to ask for permission to get up for anything as small as going to the bathroom. while everyone else around me could talk and move as they pleased. i didn't realize that was abuse too. because i wasn't on a "silent table" (the name for that punishment) when i was at school. only when i was as the house. because i was on a silent table for a reason. i still hadn't finished a monumental assignment so i was put on a silent table to finish it. it was my own fault. i didn't realize it was abuse. because i knew the rules and i broke them. and they didn't hit me. they didn't kill me. i didn't realize it was abuse when i was alienated from my peers for a day because i wouldn't take my meds from a staff member that i fully believed would be willing to give me the wrong ones. i didn't realize it was abuse because other people had and are still having it worse than i ever did.

i didn't realize it was abuse because, as much as it may sound awful to you, it was normal for me. the punishments i got were because i broke the rules. i still can't bring myself to use the word "refuse" in the context of my own actions and choices. did i ever think i was being treated unfairly. oh yeah for sure. i had a staff member lie and say that i had gotten physical with them. that i'd hit them when they were attempting to wake me up. i didn't. but i had no other witnesses and a staffs word meant far more than mine. so i got punished for it. and would you believe this happened twice. the second time was the same reason i was unwilling to take meds from a staff member. she lied about me. got me in tons of trouble. and i didn't feel safe taking my meds from a woman who would do such a thing to me. i said i'd take them if someone else would administer them. it took about an hour for that to happen. i got punished for that hour of refusal. so yeah. i wasn't treated fairly. many such cases etc etc. but i didn't realize the whole thing was abusive. i just thought certain staff were evil to their core (i still think this about those staff btw). i didn't think the program itself was bad. i didn't know. i didn't know. i didn't know. do you think all the kids who've died have known. why they were killed. i wonder how many of them thought it was their fault.

i almost got gooned to a place in hawaii. they told me i could go willingly with them or unwilling with a "transport service." i chose the third option. but even that program is a light sentence. it even has a mocking nickname among treatment kids because it's notorious for being easy compared to other places. my parents only know my tti facility was bad because telling them was the only thing that was gonna get me out of going to another one. if i hadn't told them. do you think they would've figured it out on their own. would they have been guilty for sending me their. they are now. i relish in that guilt. sometimes i like to twist the knife a little. remind them that i'm broken and it's their fault. just so i can see that guilt surface. maybe that's mean. i don't really care. they stopped being human to me the moment i realized they should have known better. that it was abuse from the very start. that even dressed up in pretty words it was still abusive. do you think they would've realized? if i'd died there? do you think they would know it was their fault? do you think i would have gotten justice in my posthumous existence?

i don't think so. i think they only know because i told them. and i think i only told them because i knew full well i was in danger.

my tti facility held me for two years, five months, and one day. and i didn't die. an unnamed twelve year old boy in north carolina was held for one day. and then he was murdered. a boy in the woods. with neither face nor name. was kidnapped and held for just one day before being killed.

i don't consider him luckier than me. i lived. but i consider him lucky among the murdered. because he didn't live long enough. he only made it through one day

do you think he'll get justice?

i don't think so

[wadesprincessboy]

Vent

You can read if you want and advice is welcome. Content/trigger warnings for abuse, self inflicted injury, self delete, cruelty (toward humans and animals)

I am an abuser. I am abusive to my core. I am toxic. I have negative narcissistic tendencies. I never say sorry. Or please. Or thank you. I am never greatful. I experience no empathy and very rarely do i experience sympathy. I hurt the ones around me constantly. I want to stop. I need to stop. I want to kill [me] everytime i realise what ive done. But i never realise until its too late. I lash out. I snap. I say cruel things. I am lucky that as ive gotten older i have stopped being physically abusive, but emotionally and psychologically it has gotten worse. The worst part is, the one i abuse most (my mother) still loves me. More than anything. She would never admit i hurt her 24/7. She is stuck. The guilt i feel is beyond anything i could ever write down but there is nothing i can do to stop myself from my cruelty towards others. I do not think before i act when i am upset. I simply say or do whatever i want and often what i want to say is cruel. I often threaten [self delete / self inflicted injury] to get what i want. But its more than a threat. I can and will hurt [me] to get what i want. If my mother pays attention to her gf instead of me i [inflict injury on self] and show her so she hangs up the phone and talks to me. I do not lack attention. I simply want more and more all the time. I fired a therapist who was actually helping me because she called me out on this. If anyone calls me out i scream at them and then go hide and cry about it because i feel so bad. It feels like theres no way out that isnt death or isolation. I dont want to hurt people but i refuse help and change (if change is even possible). I am even cruel to animals. Never physically. But i scream at animals when im angry and have to physically restrain myself or attack an inanimate object to stop myself from hurting them physically. The only living being i have never had to do this with is cats. In fact when i am on a rampage they calm me. But i still scare my cat. I yell and scream and throw things and it scares her. The things that hurt the most is there are only two beings in this world who i love. My mother and my cat. They are who i hurt. My mother especially. And that i am a prime example of the rare instance where the abused becomes the abuser. I am my fathers child through and through. He and my step father have shaped me to become this monster. Why. Why couldnt i be better. Why couldn't i stop the cycle. I know i could never have children despite wanting them so badly because i know i would hurt them. I am a worthless use of space, time, energy, and resources. Why. Why am i here. Why am i like this. Why do i bring nothing to this world but pain. Someone kill me. Please. Its gotten to the point where my mother and i have seriously considered a [self delete] pact. Because i need to [leave this earth] and she cannot live without me because for some reason she loves me more than anything (Stockholm syndrome probably). I need to leave this earth but i do not want my final act to her to be causing her more pain. I cannot drag her down with me. I want to [inflict injury on myself] but my gf took my [utensil] and i have no other. I could do it. I could leave. But i cant hurt her like that. Please. What do i do. Help.