#endeavor as a christ figure -GAGS-

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

Nagant: Killing people in cold blood who didn't deserve it...being an assassin for the state...I couldn't do it anymore. How did you cope?

Hawks: Oh, I was able to kill people because I knew Endeavor was always cheering me on ^_^

Me, watching: .........🙏🏽

Me: ....Honey--

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[tedturneriscrazy]

Here we are with Hollow Mind! Part 3 of what I'm calling the Rebecca Rose trilogy!

(Hey, I carried the running gag all the way through!)

I'm sure this will just be another goofy episode filled with silly jokes for kids. :)

Oh, so that clip was the cold open! Well then

Damn, no bananas in the Demon Realm?

I told myself I probably wasn't gonna use screencaps, but goddamnit this wordplay is too good to pass up

Oh shit! Raine, Darius, and Eber! (I didn't think Eberwolf was in on this, guess I was wrong lol)

My previous theorizing was kinda right!

Oh, so that rewind thing wasn't just part of the promo

Going to repair Luz's cape? Makes sense

The whole exchange with Luz and King over the walkie talkies is precious

AAAAA KING'S TAKING SPANISH LESSONS 😭❤

Hmm, we're seeing the effects of Belos' propaganda in action here

Eda makes very salient points

"It seems obvious but no one will listen" too fuckin real

I'm not exactly sure how Luz thinks Hunter is supposed to help in this endeavor

Speaking of Hunter, how does he not recognize Raine's glasses?

LMAOOOO LUZ

Well, I was wrong about them sending someone else in...oh well

Aaaand he steps on the vial as he says that

Yeah, that was about the reaction I expected

Wow, that whole spiel doesn't sound cultish at all

Never found out what happened to the previous one, huh? I'm sure that won't come up later

"Why does Darius look so sad here?" Ohhhh noooooo

And there's baby Belos (Philip)?

Yeah, the "so she can ruin someone else's day" is supposed to be a jab, but the fact he didn't just include her in the "enemies" is interesting

Also, Hunter, honey, I don't think whatever that is is gonna help you

Well that thing is terrifying

Oh, so that hallway with paintings was a façade

Yikes, the way his hand trembles when the palisman crumbles to dust...you just know he's thinking about Flapjack

I think I said this way back when that first clip of Separate Tides was released, but for as intense as this show gets, it's nice to know that it's still funny

Getting dragged down to the subconscious? No big deal, then

*sigh* Okay, that was actually rather sweet

Luz be all like "I knew you were a big softie"

I mean, in all likelihood, guilt is simply something Belos simply doesn't feel

Luz is old hat at the whole "invading memories" business

Eda in Serious Business mode is intense

All that and he tosses up the brb sign lmao

(Still, state of the art defense system, indeed)

Darius was all for bouncing until he heard his surrogate son was also lost in the sauce

Even Raine doesn't know what the hell Hooty is, and they presumably know him

Oh, so Belos totally did go the street preacher route

"Nine hues" seems significant

Ah, there's the scam

Gee that guy sounds familiar

Yeah, I figured Hunter wouldn't be so easily convinced

Holy shit, those are the ruins at the Knee! Belos did that! Fuck

It's that whole Eric Andre shooting meme, except not played for laughs

Ah, talking about the soul, he is a Puritan Christian!

First branding glove?

"They're...still alive..." "Then we still have work to do." Jesus fuck

Ah, cognitive dissonance/denial is a hell of a drug

One more memory, this one with the portal door

Oh shit, the Collector!

"Nine bright hues" there it is again

Also, Collector giving me Dimentio vibes

Also Kid Buu, based on the way he craves destruction and is bored

Either way, bratty kid with nonetheless incredible knowledge/power, but no corporeal form

Oh, this is the aftermath of Eclipse Lake

Wow, ungrateful bastard

Fuuuuuuuuck

This is how we find out, then

God, Luz is so kindhearted...One of the things I love about her

Jesus Christ how horrifying

Oh fuck, that's where the palismen went?! This just keeps getting more and more fucked up

Never trust small children /s

NOOOOOOPPEE I do NOT like Belos saying Luz's name like that!

So Belos is a fucked up Hohenheim, got it

"You looked the most like him" STOP

The "it's gonna be okay" talk...woof, that hits particularly hard for me for some reason

Witch hunter, huh? All those comparisons were spot on, then

Oh shit, the next reveal!

Now it's Luz's turn to be broken...

Uuuuuuughggghhhhhhh

"I'll handle this!" Goddamnit show, don't make me laugh now

(Also thanks for doing so)

KING SAME THO

Raine might not know what Hooty is, but they do know he's a sucker for romancd

Aw, no, the last of the titan blood

"I had to change it when Philip was run out of too many towns" I bet you did you crusty evil fuck

"Can't reason with crazy" YOU'RE ONE TO TALK

Oh hey our boy is back! Using Luz's name, no less!

And another narrow escape! So many of those this season

Oh, no, here comes the panic attack

She saw some shit, Eda. We all did

Ho-lee shitballs, that was a lot!

Everyone who's into the lore aspect of this show feasted well with this episode. For my part, this finally actually made me feel genuinely sympathetic toward Hunter. Has to be rough knowing you were basically grown as spare parts, and that your father figure is willing, even eager, to kill you after you found out too much.

As for Luz, to find out the guy you helped amd were tricked by in the past was the big bad all along...and the extent of what he's done...Fucking hell.

They really are coming out swinging for this season, I must say! With each episode I get angrier at Disney for cutting it short, because there's so much! Well, I suppose all we can do is enjoy what we get.

Next week is the King episode which...uh oh...That one's gonna be a gut punch, too, isn't it? Fuck.

[silvana-fangirls]

Target [Dabi x ua!Reader] Chapter 10

So long, you guys :) First of all, I wanna say I'm so, so sorry for taking so long. I have no proper excuse other than the fact that I was busy and completely blocked. Writersblock's a bitch. Anyhow, heres the new chapter, and this is probably the first time I'm liking a chapter of this fic so much, hopefully you agree.

PLEASE read notes at the end

[TARGET INDEX/CHAPTERS]

READ IN [AO3]

or below the cut

It was a day after she told him everything that his nightmare began.

It all started when Kurogiri suddenly appeared in his room (his door was fucking locked. He had a lot going on in his mind and was in no mood to deal any of the idiotic members of the League at the moment) and told him (while ignoring Dabi’s death glare) that Shigaraki called them all to a meeting, urgently.

The moment his words got to Dabi’s ears, sourness invaded his mouth and an unsettling feeling started in his stomach.

Dabi rarely lost his cool. Just like he rarely got worried about anything for the matter. So, the few times he felt like this, he just knew there was something really, really serious going on… and something that he’d definitely not like.

His mind briefly flickered the image of the captive girl, but he was quick to shove the image away.

In his well rehearsed emotionless face, and in usual aloofness, he unlocked his door and walked through the halls making his way to ‘the office’, at least that’s what they called it.

It was the room that kept all of the computers, devices and so that they might need for any of their missions; and it was also the room that was furthest away from where their prisoner was being kept. Whenever Shigaraki wanted to have a meeting, or wanted to discuss any matter that he didn’t want the UA student to hear, they’ll meet there.

Everyone was already there when he entered the room.

Dabi could already could already feel Shigaraki’s eyes on him as he closed the door behind him.

It took a few moments before he started to talk.

“You were right when you said the heroes were desperate” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth, eyes looking straight at him even if they were hidden behind his bangs “But that didn’t actually work for the better” this time, he gazed at all of them.

For a brief moment, he thought this was it.

Shigaraki had made up his mind, changed his initial decision and decided to kill the girl for once and for all.

The girl was dying.

For a flicker moment, and after years of never feeling anything like it, Dabi felt a bubble of desperation rising up his throat. His usual comebacks and quick thinking wouldn’t ever be fast enough to come up with an excuse this time. But, the feeling almost went just as quickly as it came when his mind stopped his mental mumblings with a ‘Wait’.

What, exactly, changed?

There must be a reason why Shigaraki changed his mind, or was this one of his immature tantrums?

Even if he was curious as to why the reason of this might be, Dabi wouldn’t give him the satisfaction to ask. He knew there was something going on in his sick mind, whatever it was it promised to be no good… And Dabi wasn’t stupid enough to give him any sort of leverage or add fuel to the fire.

When Shigaraki seemed to realize that he wasn’t getting any sort of reaction out of him, he finally spoke.

“The Pros are desperate.” He said again. “And the fact that they don’t have All Might to help them with this seems to make things worse” He was pointing out the obvious, and Dabi was starting to wonder if this was one of the ‘Please see my master’ talks once again… But the sour feeling in his gut wasn’t going away. “So now, they searched for the next best thing…”

Holy fuck.

Every single muscle in Dabi’s body stilled… because he just fucking knew where this was going.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

“It’s just been announced that the case’s being transferred to Endeavor” Shigaraki continued, but his raspy voice seemed far away now.

It was taking almost all of his strength and self control not to blast off the entire base.

His jaw was clenched so tight, his teeth felt like they would explode in little pieces any moment now, knuckles hiding in his coat pockets were probably white as snow by now, and nails digging in pierced the already weak skin of his palms since he started to felt a liquid sensation settling on his fingers.

But God or the Devil help him… he’ll de dammed if he reacted even in the most imperceptible way.

He’d rather get his already burnt skin ripped off like a band aid than let Shigaraki, or anyone of the League for the matter, know who he really was.

“While he’s no All Might, he’s the Number 1 Hero now… with an almost insane need to surpass All Might” Shigaraki continued as Dabi tried to control his raged breathing. He was right about that. “That means we’re short outta time”

“Does he has a lead on us or somethin’?” Magne asked, clearly not understanding the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s only a matter of moments before he has one” Kurogiri practically took the words out of Dabi’s mouth.

If Enji didn’t have a clue yet, he’ll have one soon enough.

“We need to be even more careful now. I’ll go fetch everything we need to last for a few weeks, and no one will leave the base unless strictly necessary” Kurogiri continued.

“You heard that?” Shigaraki asked him, only earning a side glance from Dabi. “You have two weeks to deal with the little brat. If you can’t make it happen by then, I’ll deal with her” He threatened, to then leave the room with Kurogiri tailing behind him.

Shigaraki was a fucking idiot if he thought they have the luxury of two weeks. Endeavor’d rather die than take that long, much less when this was his first (not to mention of extreme importance) case as the Number One Hero.

Thinking they have two weeks before Enji got close to them was a delusion.

“I’ll hurry if I were you” Spinner muttered to him on his way out.

Like he didn’t fucking know that.

But, Enji now being in charge of the mission was just the tip of the fucking Iceberg.

After the meeting, it took Dabi several hours to cool off. Hence why Twice took care of the prisoner’s breakfast while Dabi tried to not set his entire room a-flames.

And while he still wanted to burn to crisps everyone that crossed his path, he got out of his room for lunch, with a better self control over himself, yet even more angry than before.

What definitely didn’t help, was that Toga was in charge of lunch and there was barely anything to make a decent meal to eat. Kurogiri and Shigaraki were still trying to figure out what the Pros and the Police might know about them, so he wouldn’t be leaving to get food till later.

So, when Toga left something gross-looking she claimed to be soup on his hands, there was barely any other options. He just gulped the disgusting thing down before his tongue could even taste it and he hoped he didn’t get sick later.

The moment his soup bowl was empty, Toga was in front of him with another one and he almost jumped up from his place and fled thinking she was offering a second round.

“You’ll be taking lunch to (Y/N) or is Twice doing it?” She said with a ‘sweet’ smile that could almost fool him.

He blinked at her with half-confused eyes and looked down at the disgusting bowl on her hands.

“I’ll do it” He simply said, and Toga jumped in glee almost spilling the whole thing on him.

“Great!” She squealed. “Specially made for her” She said, as she placed the bowl and a spoon on his hands with the same sickly sweet smile.

And honestly… he should’ve known something was off right then.

Blinking as Toga walked away jumping around, he then rolled his eyes and made his way towards the cell.

She hasn’t finish the book Twice gifted her yet, so he found her reading it as he usually did this past days.

Her eyes flickered at him for a moment, looking at him through her lashes, to then return to the book.

“Hmm, I thought you died when Twice brought me breakfast today” She said, not looking at him, as he made his way towards her. “Pity” She said sarcastically, and if the conditions were different, just like any other day, he’ll let a short chuckle at her sassy antics.

But since the eyes of his stupid father were still clouding his mind, he didn’t.

And she quickly took note of that.

“Someone’s in a mood today” She pointed out, as she looked curiously at him.

“Would you just shut up and eat?” He just said. She was right, he wasn’t in the mood today.

“Yeez” She quietly muttered as she rolled her eyes and moved closer to the bowl that was now resting in her hard bed. “Holy cow!” She exclaimed once she got close enough. “This smells absolutely disgusting!” She added with a gag.

He didn’t disagree.

But, again, he wasn’t in the mood today.

“If you have the impression you’re staying in a five star hotel right now, sorry to disappoint you, princess. We don’t exactly have a Professional Chef out there” He said, and it definitely came out way more acidly than the intended.

She turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Dabi, what is your deal today?” She exclaimed clearly shocked.

She was talking to him like she was some old friend. With so much familiarity, considerably comfortable around him… and he was to blame for that.

“Would you just eat your damn food?” He sighed tiredly, not caring that he ignored her question.

But her eyes flickered down, to his hands and her eyes widened even more, if possible.

“Oh my God” She whispered. “What happened?” She asked as she took one of his hands in hers, and carefully brushed her thumb around the bloody, red marks his own nails left.

He was quick to snatch his hand away… Because her touch fucking burned him and that was fucking ironic and fucking hilarious.

It was the first time she was the one that reached out to touch him… and he couldn’t even describe how that felt or if he liked it or not.

It seemed that you didn’t notice his rash action nor minded it, because your concerned eyes were still trained on his now recoiled hands.

“Are you all right?” She asked, and her concern almost seemed genuine.

“No need to pretend you care around me, babe” Dabi said with a dry smirk on his lips. “Just moments ago you told me it was a pity I didn’t die”

She looked offended now.

“That was a joke” She spat out, like it was obvious. “Contrary to you, I don’t take pleasure in people getting hurt. Wether they’re villains or not” It sounded honest.

But, if she was trying to get a reaction out of him, she was wasting her time.

“Ever so righteous” He said mockingly, and he could see hurt flash her eyes for a millisecond, but she quickly masked it away with a scoff while darting her eyes off of him.

“Forget it” She muttered.

Dabi felt just the tiniest amount of unsettlement in him, like he did something wrong, but when his eyes landed in the untouched soup bowl he remembered what he was here for.

“Finish that up already” He said, pointing the bowl with his eyes. “It’s Toga’s food, and it’s fucking disgusting but it’s probably the only thing you’ll be getting till late at night or till the morning”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Y’all seem to be awfully busy” She said, clearly suspicious.

“Eat up” Dabi ordered, tired of fooling around already.

“You’re delusional if you think I can put this in my mouth without puking!” She complained.

“For fucks sake, just gulp it all down!” Dabi exclaimed nearly exasperated.

If another word dared to escape her mouth, he was going to force the thing down her throat himself.

But there was no need, because she held her breath, lifted the bowl with her hands, placed her lips on the edges and did exactly what he asked her to.

And it only took him seconds to regret that decision.

She only gulped the soup down twice before starting to cough the whole thing out.

For a second, he thought she was fucking lucky that not a drop landed on him, because if some of the fucking thing landed on him he would’ve blasted her face off to a better place.

But, when he turned to look at the splattered liquid on the floor, soup was not the only thing that’s been cough out there.

There were traces of red. Deep red.

He distinctly remember it to be a beige-greenish color. No fucking red on it.

But the red color wasn’t the only thing out of place.

There were little chunks of something. Something other than the veggies.

He felt like his soul was leaving his body, color draining from his face and completely breathless.

His eyes widened like never before when he took a closer look and realized with nothing else but horror, what those chunks of something actually were.

Sharps of glass and metal.

His head snapped towards the girl that was still coughing out blood relentlessly.

She could barely even breath, unable to stop the coughs.

Her face was crimson, and so were her now tearful eyes.

There was blood on her lips and on the corners of her mouth.

Dabi could swear… he never felt this terrified before.

“O-Oh my G-God” She managed to get out only to continue to cough right after, making Dabi almost jump up to help her.

“Hey! Hey!” He exclaimed, desperation now clear in his voice as he held her. “C’mon (Y/N), breathe!!” And she tried to, she tried to take a deep breath but was cut off instantly as she continued to cough out blood and pieces of sharps. “Fuck!!” He cursed out loud.

What the hell was even going on!?

The coughing just wouldn’t fucking stop, and she looked more desperate to breath with every passing second.

Dabi was loosing his goddamn mind.

“Calm down, (Y/N). Just breathe!!” He didn’t even know how he should be assisting the situation. The only thing clear was that he was fucking terrified. “Okay, just lift your arms, alright?” It sounded like he was pleading. But it was no use. Wether she wanted to do as he said or not it seemed like her hands couldn’t stop clutching her throat and chest.

Dabi just decided to do it himself.

He held her as he tried to place her in a more comfortable position, and then proceed to lift her arms. This was what people did when chocking, right!?

He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing wrong, because it was not fucking working.

She was facing him now, their bodies almost touching as he tried to keep her arms up. He was well aware that his white shirt was splattered in blood now, since he was forcing her to face him. But Dabi couldn’t care less.

He just wanted her to stop coughing.

He just didn’t have a clue. He knew how to patch up burnt flesh perfectly, treat cuts and deal with broken bones… But he had no clue what to do now.

And he was loosing his mind.

“(Y/N), wait here for a second alright?” He told her, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll be right back, okay? It’s gonna be fine. I’ll help you, I promise” As soon as she made even the most imperceptible indication that she understood what he said, he bolted out of the room and didn’t give two fucks that he left the door open.

“Twice!” He shouted, and that was enough to bring each and every League member to where he was. After all, this was fucking Dabi, he never lost his cool.

“What is it, Dabi? Damn, you sure are an annoying little shit!” Twice said as soon as he appeared.

“Get in there, now” Dabi was quick to order while pointing at her door. He wasn’t worried about Twice. He knew the part that cared for the girl overcame the other one. Hence why Twice bolted towards the room without so much as a reply.

“What the hell happened to you?” Shigaraki asked, and while that freaky hand covered his face he was clearly looking at his shirt.

“Kurogiri, go fetch a doctor, now” Dabi ordered, completely ignoring Shigaraki’s question.

“Excuse me?” Shigaraki said again, clearly offended.

“You have blood on your shirt, Dabi. Did that ungrateful brat attack you?” Compress asked, pointing down at his shirt.

“No” He simply said, and was about to urge Kurogiri again when giggles stopped him short.

“So, the party has begun” Toga said between snickers.

He didn’t know why he hand’t realized it before, or maybe he hadn’t even have a chance to think about it since he his mind was currently occupied with the (possibly dying) girl a few rooms down the hall.

But, the minute her psycho giggles were heard, he put two and two together in less than a second.

And it took him even less to pin her agains the nearest wall, hanging her up in the air by the neck with one already considerably hot hand.

“Only God knows what the fuck’s your problem, psycho bitch” He hissed at her with narrowed eyes, hand tightening around her throat while growing hotter. “But don’t you ever fucking doubt, that I won’t fucking kill you if I want to”

“Can any of you idiots tell me what the fuck’s going on!?” Shigaraki exclaimed at them exasperated, but Dabi didn’t lose his hold on the crazy girl (who was somehow, still smiling), not even a bit.

“Kurogiri, go fetch a fucking doctor” Dabi ordered again, through clenched teeth, eyes not leaving Toga’s.

“No one’s doing shit until someone tells me what the FUCK is going on!” Shigaraki shouted this time.

“I-I just t-ook care of the p-problem” Toga said gasping for air as she clenched to Dabi’s offending hand… still giggling, somehow. “I-I just… made h-her an… e-extra special… m-meal” She added, and giggled as she could until Dabi tightened his hold on her even more.

Before anyone could say another word, Twice came rushing to where they were. His clothes now also splattered in blood.

“Dabi, she just won’t stop coughing blood! I don’t know what to do! And to make the matters worse, I stepped into all that glass because of you!”  Twice said, lifting up the soles of his villain costume for everyone to see.

Soaked in blood, and pierced by tons of glass and metal shards.

“Kurogiri” Dabi said again, and this time as a warning.

“A-Alright” Kurogiri stuttered out, clearly shocked. But, before he got the chance to activate his quirk, Shigaraki’s raised hand stopped him.

“Wait” He simply said, and for the first time since Dabi got a hold on Toga he turned to him with disbelieving eyes.

“Are you fucking shitting me!?” Dabi nearly growled out. There was barely anytime to loose. Only God knew how serious this was or how much long that girl could take being in this condition.

“Why?” Shigaraki asked.

“Why!?” Dabi parroted even in more disbelief.

“Why should we tend her?” Shigaraki asked again, in complete calm. “Toga was right. She was just taking care of the problem. It was without my permission, which I can’t say that it doesn’t bother me. But, it she just wanted to get the job done” He said carelessly.

What fucking excuse could Dabi even give him?

What could he possibly say that was at least a bit reasonable?

“I didn’t join the League to do half-assed jobs” It was the first thing that came out of his mouth. But he knew he was loosing it. He was acting recklessly, and his facade was nowhere around anymore.

Even he wouldn’t fall for such a weak ass excuse.

“The message is the same” Shigaraki shrugged. “We killed the girl before the Pros came. Point for us”

He didn’t know what the fuck to say.

“W-Why do you look s-so worried, D-Dabi? Shouldn’t you be r-relieved?” Toga asked him and he instantly turned to her. She was clearly mocking him. A Cheshire cat-like smile adorning her face.

There was nothing else left to do now, so fuck it.

“If Kurogiri doesn’t get a doctor here now, there’ll be two girls dying here today.” Dabi said, and the temperature in his hand rose considerably, making Toga cry out out loud.

“Shigaraki Tomura!” Kurogiri suddenly pleaded. Clearly realizing there were only two ways out of this. Either they find medical help for the aspiring hero, or they’ll be dealing with two corpses soon enough.

Shigaraki stayed completely still for a few moments, while Toga desperately tried to get out of Dabi’s hold, and Kurogiri pleaded him with his eyes.

“Careful, Dabi…” He then said. “Or one might think you actually care for this girl” The smirk on his face was so wicked, it looked straight out of a horror movie.

Dabi said nothing.

It was only when Shigaraki shot a glance at Kurogiri, and he quickly left using his quirk, that Dabi dropped Toga on the floor.

“I’ll get out of my sight if I were you” Dabi hissed out, and Toga was quick to do as he said, bolting right out of there the moment she could.

To Dabi’s fucking relief and fucking mental state, Kurogiri and a villain doctor he already knew (from previous post-missions and so) appeared right after.

He’d better fucking fix her.

A.N.:

I intended to make this chapter a big longer than it ended up being, but while writing it it just didnt feel right and decided that what happens next just fits better the next chapter. Anyways, while I do like this chapter, I'm still kinda worried. I'm worried I'm not getting the character's personalities right. So, if you think this is a bit OOC please let me know. It's kinda hard to figure this villains out tbh. Another thing (and I don't remember if I already told you this or not but I'm too lazy to check right now) most of my inspiration for fics I write come from songs, believe it or not. There's just nothing that puts me in a better creative mood than songs, and this fic is no exception. Mostly, I listen to "Natural" by Imagine Dragons, "Young God" by Halsey, "Play With Fire" by Sam Tinnesz, and "11 Minutes by YUNGBLUD, Halsey and Travis Barker because they make me think of Dabi. My point with all this is: If you have a song that reminds you of him or of this fic, please let me know? It helps. Anyways, Thoughts?

tag list: @buckybear97 @this-lost-child @aebeessun @ye-rinn@ihatemyselftoinfinityandbeyond @cindxalex @luvley-shadow@taeniix@roadtripsonspaceships @iana-therese@darkagedoctor @liliafangirls@darkfaethedestroyer@celestiallsunshine@meggy126@starlordsmum @megganclaark@hecatemacbeth7@dixonsbugaboo

(please let me know if I forgot to add you)

WANT TO JOIN THE TAG LIST? ASK BOX ONLY PLEASE (so I don’t miss anyone)

[turtle-steverogers]

Fugitives- chap 10

AAAAAAND WE’RE BACK! WELCOME TO ‘SHIT GOES DOWN’ THE CHAPTER.  THIS is major fucking plot so bare the fuck with me, chiefs.  IT GETS INTENSE heres chapter nine if you need a refresher

most of the chaps are on #masterlist and ALL of them are somewhere under #fugitives lol,,, its also now on ao3 if that’s easier

thank you as always to my fugitive ;) in crime @technically-whizzy for helping me raise this fucking awful baby of ours

OKAY LETS GET ON WITH IT ship: eventual ralbert

warnings: gunshots, blood, violence, drugging, cursing, the fucking works, death, yeah its not pretty now and it will never ne

word count: 6792 OHMYGOD

editing: a little bit, actually.  i gave it some lov

He pulled his hood up further, bowing his head to the cold Winter air.  His hand grasped the rubber handle of his crutch tightly, palm slipping as it shifted under him.  He watched his feet, waiting until the road slanted upward, a familiar bridge slipping into view.

Another hooded figure was waiting by the railing at the start of the bridge, the bold tattoo that was brandished on his bicep glinting in the moonlight.  Crutchie’s eyes scanned the familiar symbol, the sharp lines of the tattooed bridge almost exactly replicating the real thing behind them.  

The other figure looked up, hood falling off his head as he stepped forward, beckoning for Crutchie to join him.

Crutchie reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.  He silently handed one to the shorter man, offering his lighter as well.  They leaned against the railing, watching the view of Brooklyn in the distance.  The city at night was an eerie kind of beautiful.  The sky was still bright from light reflecting off the buildings, the water underneath the bridge flowed ominously, the black, inky waves threatening to engulf one’s mind.  The sounds of the city could still be heard at full volume, only barely masking the horrifying secrets it also held.

“Did you hurt him bad?” Crutchie asked, smoke blowing out of his mouth and getting caught in the cold, Winter air.

“Mmm, only as much as necessary.” The other man said.

“What should we do about it?”

The man twitched the cigarette between his fingers, “I think we need to do it.  Tonight.”

Crutchie nodded, “Okay.  I’m on it,” He stubbed out his cigarette on the railing, tossing it over the side and watching as it was drowned in the darkness.  He pushed off the railing, adjusting his crutch back underneath his armpit, “Take care of yourself, Conlon.”

Spot saluted, placing the cigarette back into his mouth, “M’counting on you, Charlie.”

Earlier

“I want in.”

Albert forced himself not to look away from Spot’s intense glare.  He could feel the handle of his switchblade pressing against the small of his back and his arms ached to reach back and grab it- arm himself in some way.  But it didn’t seem like any sudden movement from him would work in his favor as far as Spot went.

Spot hadn’t moved, his eyes trained solely on Albert’s.  Albert resisted the urge to shrink in on himself.  He had to maintain his act.  He couldn’t crack now, but Spot looked like he was reading him like a book.

Could he see through him?  Did he know?

Suddenly, Spot took a step forward into Albert’s space, eyes squinting further as his gaze flicked to Albert’s hair.  Albert clenched his jaw, trying not to shiver as Spot observed him.

“Higgins.” Spot muttered, only barely audible.

Albert’s eyes widened for a moment as cold fear shot through his entire body, “What?”

His answer was a fist to the temple.  The world seemed to silence for a moment and he was barely able to recover before he was hit again.  Then, everything went black.

XXX

Sounds returned first.  Voices echoed somewhere close to him, making his head throb more intensely than it had before.

He lifted his head, wincing as a stinging pain traveled through his temple to the rest of his head.  It felt like someone was poking his nerves with a white hot rod.  He groaned, fighting the urge to be sick as pain moved through him in waves, making his muscles ache.

He was definitely concussed.  Brilliant.

He cracked open his eyes, only to find it didn’t make a difference.  It was pitch fucking black.  He assessed himself, taking note that his hands were bound behind him and his ankles were tied together.

His back was against a wall.  Or what he assumed was a wall.  He couldn’t really tell what anything was.

His face felt sticky and he licked his lips, blood seeping onto his tongue.  He gagged and spit aimlessly, trying to rid his mouth of the metallic taste.  Apparently, his nose was bleeding.  What the fuck happened?

Light flooded whatever room he was in and he flinched, turning his head away from the source.  Footsteps approached him and he folded in on himself as his arms started to tremor.  He was going to die.  He was literally going to die.

The person crouched in front of him and Albert could feel their eyes boring into his being.  He whimpered involuntarily as cold fingers made contact with his jaw, turning his head to face his captor.

“Open your eyes, bitch.”  Spot’s unmistakable Brooklyn accent sent shockwaves of pain through his head.

Albert shook his head, “Fuck you.”

His cheek stung as Spot slapped him and he cried out, his headache intensifying almost impossibly.

“Do as I say.” Spot growled, tugging the hair on the back of Albert’s head sharply, making him hiss in pain.

Albert forced a chuckle, gritting his teeth, “Getting kinky on me, huh, Conlon?” he managed, his voice sounding strained.

His neck cricked as he was jolted forward, the cool metal of what Albert presumed was a gun handle pressed to the back of his head.  He fought the urge to vomit as waves of excruciating nausea rolled through his body.  

“Who are you.” It was a demand, not a question, whispered close to his ear.  Spot’s breath was hot and smelled distinctly like cigarettes and Albert winced, scrunching his nose involuntarily.  

“Mmmm, your mom,” Albert said, his words looping together groggily.

There was no reply for a moment, then Albert heard Spot growl, the noise sending chills up his spine.  He tried to maintain eye contact as Spot forced him to his feet, watching him with a wolflike stare briefly, before sticking his gun between his teeth and placing his hands on Albert’s biceps.  Albert held his breath, not daring to move as Spot began to pat him down.  He felt down his arms, then moved his hands to Albert’s chest, patting vigorously.  Albert bit his tongue, refraining from making a crude, biting comment about their current closeness.  He had a feeling it wouldn’t be well received.

Spot turned him around slowly, starting the process over at his shoulder-blades.  With a jolt, the presence of his switchblade at the small of his back returned to his cognizance and he fought the urge to tense up.  Spot was going to find it and take it and then he’d have lost his last bit of security.  The one thing linking him to safety.

Spot’s hand landed on the handle of the blade and he let out a small, triumphant, ‘aha’.  Albert squeezed his eyes shut as Spot lifted his shirt and took the blade out, his cold hands ghosting horribly against his skin.

“Jesus Christ,” Spot muttered and Albert couldn’t help but turn around.  Instead of pocketing the knife as Albert had expected, Spot was squinting at the blade where Albert’s name was engraved.  He held it closer to his face, recognition flitting through his eyes.  Albert watched him, confused.

“Where’d you get this,” Spot demanded, suddenly, “Who made this?”

Albert shook his head, “I-I-”

“Nevermind,” Spot spat, “I know what I need to know.”

A moment later, a crack echoed through his brain as Spot slammed the hilt of the gun into his head and once again, the world darkened.  

Time passed at an indiscernable pace.  Albert felt himself shifting unsteadily in and out of consciousness.  People were discussing him nearby and he could make out bits and pieces of hushed conversation, but none of it made much sense.  

At one point, he found himself able to stay awake for longer than a few harried seconds.  He kept his eyes closed, the pain from his evident concussion making it difficult to do much besides sit solemnly and pray for his rescue.  Oh well, at least he wasn’t dead.  

People were speaking hurriedly now- desperately.  Albert could make out Spot’s angry voice, rising above the rest.  It sounded as if he were organizing something, spitting demands from person to person and only being answered by mumbles of ‘yes, boss’ or ‘you got it’.  

But the most gut clenching, perhaps, was a command, hissed in a harsh, yet loud whisper sending jolts of cold fear through Albert’s body.

“Get Crutchie over here, I need to speak with him.”

Albert swallowed, trying not to panic as the possibilities of what Crutchie had to do with this wormed into his brain and seized hold of his lungs.  He had to warn someone, he had to-

Ow.

He clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay awake and think of an escape.  But it seemed as if fate had other plans as he was pulled under once more.

12 hours later

Jack sat with his legs propped up, absentmindedly cleaning his gun as he sat in the rec room, watching the local news.  Davey was upstairs, taking a nap and Race had gone out to meet Albert to discuss any further Prospect information he might have gained, so Jack found himself alone in his relaxation.  A luxury that was rare to find in Empire.

“Mind if I join you?” Jack looked up to see Les stroll in and take a seat in one of the chairs next to him, propping his legs up to mirror him.

Jack chuckled, “I guess not,” he said, placing his gun down on the table in front of him and picking up a pack of cards that lay nearby, “Gin rummy?”

Les shrugged, “Sure.”

Jack dealt out the cards, mentally preparing to be beaten by Les, who was scarily good at most card games.  He’d gone on a rampage a few years back, claiming that he was going to beat Race in every card game known to man at least once, and in his endeavors, he’d gained great skill.

“How’s Albert?” Les asked, accepting his pile of cards and looking up at Jack.

Jack took his own pile and hummed noncommittally, “dunno, Racer’s out checking on him right now.”

“You think he got into Prospect alright?”

Jack sighed, making a questioning gesture with his hands, “We can hope so.”

“Jack, I need to talk to you,” Jack and Les glanced over to see a breathless Race, standing in the doorway to the rec room, bouncing nervously on his toes, “Now.”

Jack pursed, setting down his cards, “What’s wrong?”

Race’s gaze passed over Les briefly, “Alone.”

Jack twitched his nose and placed down his cards, standing, “Alright, one sec squirt,” he said, ruffling Les’ hair.

Les squawked indignantly, “Stop calling me squirt!”

Race led him out of the room and a couple paces down the hallway until they were right in front of the drug storage room.  He turned towards Jack, the worry in his eyes evident up close.

“Something didn’t go right with Al,” he said, the words coming out rushed.

Jack’s stomach dropped, “What? What do you mean? How do you know?”

Race ran an anxious hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.  It was obvious that he was fighting the urge to work himself up.

“I, uh, I went to where me and Al planned to meet up, over on Frankfort Street by the bridge and he wasn’t there-”

“Okay, don’t panic yet, maybe-”

“Let me finish,” Race continued, “he wasn’t there, so I decided to wait for a bit, because, you know, sometimes shit takes time, but it was getting a lot later than when we had planned so I decided to look around a bit and I found another one.”

Jack cocked his head, “Another one what?”

Race let out a frustrated noise, “Another ‘Less is More’ thing! It was fresh, too.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Race grimaced, “Seemed a little too coincidental that a new one popped up right where I was supposed to see him.”

Jack leaned against the wall, overwhelmed, “We gotta tell Davey,” he said after a moment.

Race nodded, breathing out a sigh, “I’m scared for him, I-” he clicked his tongue, looking at Jack, “Prospect can get real bad...Spot can get real bad,” he averted his gaze, trailing off.

Jack examined him for a moment, concern pooling in his stomach, “Hey, we’ll get Al out, okay?” Race didn’t answer, haunted eyes trained on the ground.  Jack reached forward, tapping his chin.

“Okay?” He repeated once Race met his gaze.

Race shifted his jaw, “Okay.”

XXX

Albert stared at his feet, scuffing his shoes across the carpet underneath him.  Sometime in his unconsciousness, he had been moved to what appeared to be Spot’s office.  His wrists, ankles, and torso were bound tightly, holding him to a small wooden chair.  Upon waking, he’d tried for a few feeble minutes to free himself, but to no avail.  Whoever had tied the rope knew what they were doing.

The office was small and neat and somehow nothing and exactly like what Albert had expected.  There was a singular mahogany table in the middle of the room, a tall, leather office chair pushed neatly in behind it.

Everything in the room was carefully placed, as though Spot had put a lot of thought into the layout of his room.  Nothing was out of line.  Pencils were pristinely sharpened and placed eraser-up in a shiny, glass pencil holder.  The rug was dust free and perfectly centered.  The two bookshelves that stood opposite each other at one end of the room were stacked end to end with books, which seemed to fit almost too well on the shelves themselves.

The meticulousness of the room seemed almost out of character for Spot, not that Albert would know.  But he wouldn’t have pegged him for a neat-freak kind of guy.  The obvious attention to detail sent a shiver down Albert’s spine.

He scanned the room, unsure exactly what he was searching for.  Something out of order, perhaps.  Something to clue him into the enigma that was Spot and Prospect.

However, nothing caught his eye.  The room was too damn cookie-cutter to hold any glaring secrets.  Which, admittedly, was a clever strategy.  Anything that could be of importance was hiding in plain sight.

But Albert was in too much pain to look too hard.  He sighed loudly, allowing his head to drop lazily to the side, pain surging through his temples once more.  

He was about to close his eyes briefly when a small glint of polished wood on Spot’s desk perked his attention.

A wave of cold washed down his legs as he realized that it was his switchblade, perfectly unbroken.  Something was propped haphazardly next to it, the only visible attribute of the unknown object being a large crack in its glossy, dark green exterior.   

He squinted, trying to get a better look.  He could see something etched into the side of the other item, but its distance from him made it impossible to make out.

He blew out a breath, steeling himself for a moment before bracing his feet on the floor.  With a grunt, he shifted his body weight forward, using the momentum to move the chair a few inches towards the desk.  The wooden legs scraped the ground loudly and Albert winced, holding still

for a moment before heading another few inches forward onto the carpet.

Albert hummed triumphantly, pleased with himself.  His view of the desk was unobscured now and he leaned forward, curiosity peaking when he realized that the object next to his knife was a lighter.  As his eyes focused, Albert realized that the etching on the handle was a faded ‘R’.  The curve of the lettering was oddly familiar and as his gaze shifted sideways onto his knife, a small gasp left him.

The lettering style was the exact same.

He frowned, his bottom lip worrying its way between his teeth as he tried to work out why that was unsettling.  He blinked a few times, lips parted slightly as he continued to inspect the lighter.  The damage was clearer up close, showing that the crack on the handle stemmed from a large chip out of the metal where the green plastic met the metal lighting mechanism.  It looked like someone had hit the lighter against something hard.  Or thrown the damn thing.  

A pair of footsteps echoed outside the door and Albert tore his gaze away from the lighter, wishing for a moment that his hands were free so that he could grab his knife.  Briefly, he considered hopping his chair back to where he’d been left in case Spot grew suspicious as to why he’d moved, but the thought left him as the door to Spot’s office opened.

Albert winced, bracing himself.  Though, he was unsure as to what exactly he was bracing himself for.  Spot soaking him again, probably.

“Ah, so you’re the brat who tried ta trick us.”

A voice Albert didn’t recognize rang out and he opened his eyes.  Across the room from him stood two men, both sporting sleeveless henleys.  The Prospect branding was visible on each of their biceps, tattooed non-discreetly into the skin facing outwards.  The one on the right looked to be around Albert’s height with longer, brown hair that curved at the nape of his neck.  He had a wide face, a permanent scowl set on his features.  Albert wrinkled his nose, feeling slightly intimidated by his piercing stare.  The other guy stood a fair few inches taller than the first, muscles bulging through his shirt.  He had tan skin, his beady eyes glaring at Albert.  His hair was jet black and looked a good bit greasier than the other guy’s, giving him a rat-like composure.

Albert’s gaze traveled from the first guy to the second, hesitating a moment before flashing a smile, “Hey there, gents.”

Neither looked amused.

“I can’t fuckin’- ugh, why’d Boss nail us with the annoyin’ one?” The first guy complained.

“Dunno Bumlets, but I already wanna punch him,” The second guy said, eyes shifting between Albert’s, “Whatever, he’ll be outta commission soon.”

Albert’s smile faltered, uneasiness leaving a vile taste in his mouth.  He vaguely recognized his voice and with a jolt he realized that this was the guy Spot had been with when he and Race had gone to Queens.  He didn’t look anything like Albert had expected.

Bumlets strode over to him, pulling a knife from his boot and bending down.  Albert sucked in a breath as the ropes that previously bound him down were swiftly cut away, allowing blood to flow normally through his body.  He wiggled his fingers, willing the tingling feeling to go away.

Bumlets grasped the back of his collar, yanking him to his feet, “Got the cuffs, Hotshot?”

Hotshot grunted, producing a rusty pair of handcuffs from the inside of his jacket.

“Right ‘ere,” He said as Bumlets pushed Albert forward.  

Hotshot grabbed hold of Albert’s bicep easily, keeping one hand firmly on his arm as he secured the handcuffs around his wrists, locking them tightly.  Albert tried to jerk away, hissing when the sharp metal cut into his skin.

“No use in fightin’ too hard,” Bumlets sneered, pushing past Albert and Hotshot towards the door, “You’re outnumbered.”

Albert swallowed, jaw shifting as he was lead out of the room, Hotshot still holding him firmly, “Is there any point in asking where you’re taking me?”

Both men ignored him, pushing him through the dark building and down several flights of stairs.  As they ventured on, Albert looked around, noting the dinginess of the place.  It was significantly grimier than the Bowery, the damp, cool air giving it a dirty feel.  The ground was coated in dust and grit, and there were several places in which Albert swore he saw bloodstains.  It smelled of mildew, causing Albert to gag if he breathed in too deep.  As they ventured to the main level, the corridors seemed to darken even more and Albert ground his teeth, trying in vain to remain calm.

“Did boss leave the truck ‘round back?” Hotshot asked, coming to an abrupt halt near a door.

Bumlets nodded, fishing what looked to be a car key out of his pocket, “All parked an’ ready for us to ride.”

Hotshot hummed, jerking open the door and thrusting Albert into the night.  For a moment, the grip on Albert’s arm vanished, but before he could make a move, a bag was being placed over his head.  He tried to duck away, only for his hair to be yanked harshly underneath the bag.

“Behave,” Bumlets snarled, knotting the bag in the back to keep it in place.

“Mmm, but that’s boring,” Albert said, aiming for a cocky tone, but wincing when his voice cracked slightly.  Why couldn’t he have Race’s poker face?  

His heart twanged briefly as he thought of the other boy.  It had only been a day, but already the plan was going to complete shit.  His fingers itched for his switchblade, the one thing meant to ground him to some semblance of security.  A vague part of him longed for the night previous, when he and Race had shared that moment on his cot- when things were still safe and calm.  

He felt himself being dragged again, trying his best not to trip as they descended down a small slope.  Albert felt the ground under him turn to pavement and a moment later, the sound of a car door opening came from beside him.  He tensed his shoulders, sensing what was about to happen.

“Behave.” Bumlets repeated, roughly shoving him against the car.  

Albert grunted as his shin made hard contact with the metal step that led to the backseat.  He stayed still, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this, but still refusing to make it easy on his captors.

“Climb in the goddamn car,” Hotshot snapped, stomping harshly on his heels.

Albert grimaced, “Can’t climb anywhere while my hands are cuffed behind me.  Is everyone in Prospect so damn kinky?  Ya know earlier, Spot-”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Bumlets cursed, gripping him by the elbow and boosting him upwards.

Albert smirked to himself as he settled into the backseat.  As screwed as he was, he was getting a rise out of them.  And that felt pretty damn good.

He heard the door slam next to him and he rested his head against the headrest behind him, trying not to let the claustrophobic feeling of the bag suffocating him consume him.  He stretched his neck, wincing when he felt the joints crack.

The car started and Albert frowned, “Y’all better be buckled up there.  Someone in this car has got to conform to the New York safety measures and I sure ain’t.”

Hotshot sighed, “Why can’t we shoot him now again?”

“Because Conlon’ll kill us if we get his car bloody,” Bumlets grumbled, “Usin’ his car at all has got us on thin ice.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, save for the staticky hum of the radio playing old rock music.  They drove for what could have been hours and as time stretched on, Albert grew more anxious.  He’d known their intentions from the start, but the reality of the situation seemed to settle on him in sickening waves.  He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive.  

Last time ever driving through New York and I can’t even enjoy the view, he thought cynically, huffing a laugh, although his heart was in his throat.

The truck screeched to a halt and Albert held his breath as Hotshot and Bumlets exited.  Cold, night air gusted at him as his door was opened and he was pulled out.  He was guided on numb legs for a few minutes, only noting the change in the ground underneath his feet when his shoes began to echo on concrete.  They walked for a few more feet before he was shoved downwards, knees hitting the ground roughly. The bag was yanked off his head and he involuntarily whimpered as his eyes crossed, focusing on the barrel of a gun that hovered directly in front of him.  Out of his peripheral, he could see mass amounts of scaffolding that seemed to climb to a high ceiling.  Machines protruded from the wall in front of him, but they looked worn and broken.  It was unclear exactly what kind of establishment he’d been brought to, but it seemed to be out of use.

The smell was awful, as if something were rotting in the walls and Albert shivered, feeling strangely uncleansed.

“So, we’re gonna kill ya obviously,” Hotshot said, his voice low and unnerving, “But there’s shit we gotta know from you first.”

XXX

Race sat on the floor of the rec room, leaning against a leg of one of the card tables.  His arms were draped lazily around his knees as he tilted his head back, allowing it to thud into the cheap plastic tabletop.  

He was mad at himself, angry that he’d allow someone else to slip from between his fingers.  Guilt pooled in his stomach, threatening to choke him.  Every time he had something good, it fucked him in the face, usually resulting in people getting hurt or killed.  Or both.  Usually both.  

He blew out a breath, head rolling to the side to look towards the ratty book cabinet placed awkwardly in the corner.  On the bottom shelf, stacks of old, dusty newspapers lay unceremoniously, rarely to be touched by anyone in the gang.  

It had been awhile since he’d sifted through it, only venturing to that dark corner when he needed a reminder of...who he was, but now seemed good a time as any.

He scooted out from the card table, standing on sluggish limbs and crossing blindly to the bookshelf.  He knelt down, tremoring hands reaching forward to extract a worn, obviously used newspaper article from the bottom of one of the piles.

Swallowing, he unfolded it, blinking a few times as he scanned over the head of the article.

Bombing at the Rockefeller Center Leaves 12 Dead.  Culprit Still Unidentified.

He breezed through the article, eventually focusing his gaze on the blurry picture on the bottom of the page, showcasing the damage.  His eyes bore into the image, lips parting slightly as shouts echoed through his memories.  

He stayed frozen, losing himself in the picture until the shaking in his hands became too much and he closed his eyes, anxiety rising in his throat and slowly morphing to panic.  He jerked, anticipation shooting through his arms as he crumpled the newspaper in both fists, feeling the wrinkled paper rip underneath his fingers.

“Antonio?” Race opened his eyes, becoming acutely aware of himself once more, but failing to drop his tense position, “Are you alright?”

Race rolled his shoulders, taking a measured breath before calmly dropping his arms to his sides, tossing the newspaper in a nearby trash can.  He turned around, putting on a tight smile as he faced Davey.

“M’great,” He said, knowing full well that neither of them were convinced.

Davey eyed him warily, “Well, I’m ready to go when you are,” he busied himself in unbuttoning his his dress shirt sleeve and expertly folding it up, “Romeo is going to join us.”

Race nodded, “Perfect, yeah, okay.”

Davey studied him for another moment before briskly turning, “I’ll be by the stagedoor, be hasty.”

Race watched him leave, taking another moment to compose himself before hurrying out of the room.  He froze in the hallway, running a mental checklist of things he might need while retrieving Albert from whatever hot shit he was in.  His knife was in his boot and his gun was resting snugly against the small of his back, held in place by the waistband of his jeans.  His jacket was in the entrance hall and he’d stuck an extra pack of cigarettes in the inside pocket of that earlier.  He was set.

He nodded once to himself, erasing the last holds of unsteadiness from his mind as he crossed to the stage door, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on along the way.

Davey, as promised, was standing just beside it, hands clasped behind his back.  Romeo stood adjacent to him, fingers curled gingerly around his vape.

He perked up when Race walked in, “Heya Higgins, want a hit?” He held up his vape, wiggling it in front of Race’s face.

Race flinched, rearing back a little, “Mm, don’t do that and no, I’m good.”

Romeo shrugged, “More for me,” he took a long drag, looking expectantly from Race to Davey, “Soooo, where’re we headed, boys?”

“Excellent question,” He said, looking towards Race, “Race?”

Race mulled it over for a moment, realizing that he hadn’t given this any actual thought.  The prospects of Albert still being at The Refuge were slim, but that didn’t mean it was entirely off the table.  He could still be in one of the holding rooms, but Spot never allowed the dirty work to be done directly in the building.  It was his policy: never spill blood where you sleep.  That didn’t lead to any clear answers, however.  Spot had three designated execution spots, but they were well spread out between Queens and Brooklyn.  If they tried to check all of them, it would be impossible to reach Albert in time.  If there was even time left.  Albert could already be dead.

He shook his head, not allowing himself to go there yet.  He had to stay focused.

“Antonio…” Davey sounded like he was going to get impatient and Race shushed him.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” he ran his tongue over his lower lip, trying to think of each of the locations of each spot.  

There was the Bergen Street platform, although Race doubted Spot’d chosen that spot.  It was hard to access most of the time and he saved that area for more intense matters, ones that involved several people.

The New York State Pavilion was the closest to The Refuge in relation to the others, but it was the most open of all of them.  It was mainly used when someone needed to be taken care of quickly and Race doubted that they’d let Albert off without questioning.

That left the Jumping Jack Powerplant.  It was well secluded and a healthy distance from The Refuge- the perfect candidate for their predicted intentions with Albert.  

“I, uh,” Race ran a hand through his curls, “I think I have an idea, but it’s a bit of a drive,” he continued when Davey and Romeo raised their eyebrows, “It’s called the Jumping Jack Power Plant?  I think that’s probably where Spot would want to take him.”

Davey nodded slowly, no doubt trying to map out where that was in his head, “I think I know where you speak of.  We can take the van,” he opened the door, ushering the other two out first, “Quickly, quickly.”

“Shotgun!” Romeo called, hurrying towards where the van was parked in the back of the alley.

Race glanced towards the skyscrapers in the distance, his heart thudding with anticipation, “M’coming Al.  M’not gonna letcha down, too.”

XXX

Albert allowed a whine to escape his throat, “Is there, like, a world record or something for the most times a guy has had a gun pointed at his face in a short amount of time?  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I could qualify.”

Bumlets growled, rolling his eyes as he pressed the muzzle of his gun to his forehead, “Do ya ever shut up?”

“Ya know?  I get that a lot,” Albert said, tilting his head as he feigned deep thought, “I wonder if that’s, like, a social cue or something to reassess myself and change my ways.”

Bumlets expression turned somehow more exasperated, “Can I please blow his brains out now?”

“I fuckin’ wish,” Hotshot sighed, “But no.”

“Mmm sadly,” Bumlets said, “Alright,” he dropped the gun momentarily and stepped behind Albert, pressing it to his neck instead, “I’ll start with the easy questions.  What’s your name?”

“Jennifer, Jen for short,” Albert said, keeping his tone light, “Though if we’re really close, or like, fucking or something, I’ll let you call me Jenny.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hotshot groaned, stepping forward and slapping Albert across the face, “Your real name, smartass.”

“Eat my ass,” Albert said lowly, squinting his eyes.

Accepting the fact that they weren’t going to get a proper name out of him, Bumlets pressed on, raising the next question, “Are you associated at all with Empire?”

Albert worked to keep the recognition from his eyes, “Your fuckin’ rival gang or whatever? No, my balls haven’t dropped enough for that yet.”

Hotshot held eye contact for a moment before directing his stare at Bumlets.  He suddenly looked down at Albert, something mischievous glinting in his eyes, like a kid who knew he was about to win Monopoly.

“How about Antonio Higgins?”

The gasp that left Albert’s lips was nearly inaudible, but Hotshot caught it.  He leaned down, levelling himself with Albert.

“Gotcha,” He grinned, hot breath blowing into Albert’s face, making him wince.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it was rude to talk about people behind their backs?”

Albert could have started crying as a familiar voice rang across the room.  Hotshot’s face contorted into one of confusion and his head snapped to the side.  The gun that had still been pressed to the back of Albert’s neck was removed and Albert managed to duck out of the way as the first round of shots were fired.

He rolled backwards, eventually steadying himself and crawling on his hands and knees until he reached the far wall.  Once he was out of the line of fire, he peered backwards, heart leaping into his chest as he watched Romeo shoot a bullet at Bumlets, hitting him square in the forehead.  He recoiled and shut his eyes tight, covering his ears with his hands until the sounds of gunshots stopped.

He opened his eyes again, avoiding looking at where Bumlets now lay and instead fixating on where Race was shoving Hotshot into the ground, knocking him out.

“Motherfucker,” Race spat, “Never liked you.”

He directed his attention towards Albert, chest heaving as the adrenaline drained from the room.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Albert panted, “That was the most badass thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Race grinned, jogging over to him and helping him up.  Before Albert could say anything else, he was being pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“Whoa, hey,” Albert floundered for a moment before wrapping his arms around Race’s torso, “Hey, buddy.”

“Thank fuck you’re alive,” Race mumbled into his neck, “I don’t know what I woulda….just, thank fuck.”

“Thank god you should up when you did,” Albert said, the reality of what almost happened hitting him full-force, “My god, I- wow.”

“This is all very touching,” they broke apart at Davey’s voice, “But we really must get back to Empire.”

“Right, right of course.”

Race and Albert pulled away from one another, readjusting themselves and following Romeo and Davey out of the warehouse.

XXX

Jack ventured into the kitchen, crossing to the fridge and humming when nothing worthwhile sparked his appetite.  

“Hiya Jackie, you hungry?”

Jack startled, turning on his heel, “Crutchie!” He exclaimed, taking in the sight of his best friend seated at the kitchen counter, mug in hand, “I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly,” Crutchie scoffed, gesturing to the seat next to him, “Care for tea?”

Jack considered, “Yeah, actually, tea sounds good.”

He padded around the counter, grabbing a spare mug along the way and perching himself next to Crutchie, gratefully accepting the tea he offered to pour for him.

“So, where have you been?” Jack asked, warming his hands on the sides of the mug while he waited for his drink to cool down, “I haven’t seen you, like, all day.”

Crutchie shrugged, “I’ve been out,” he reached out, grabbing the sugar bowl and offering it to Jack, “Sugar?” Jack shrugged, “Sure,” he agreed, spooning a fair amount into his tea and stirring.

They sat in silence as Jack blew on his drink, taking a small sip and grimacing at it’s oddly bitter taste.  He wrinkled his nose and took another sip before reaching for the sugar again.

“Does this tea taste weird to you?” He asked, spooning a little more sugar into his mug.  He became acutely away of the sluggishness of his movements as he reached for another spoonful.  All at once, his eyes turned foggy and suddenly, he couldn’t focus past the heaviness in his head.

Crutchie gently reached out, coaxing the sugar spoon away from Jack’s grip, “Don’t take too much sugar, Jackie-boy.” Jack turned a horrified eye towards him, fighting to stay conscious.

Crutchie’s face contorted into a cheshire-like grin, “After all, less is more.”

Then, everything went black.

XXX

The drive back to The Bowery was spent in relieved silence, save for the pleasant thrum of Race’s ‘Relaxation n’ Stuff’ playlist.  The city was oddly quiet, making the ride quick and painless.  They pulled into the alleyway next to the theatre, parking the van towards the back.  It was a bit tight climbing out of the car, but eventually, they were all trekking back towards the stage door.

“Holy shit,” Romeo stopped abruptly, fixated on something on the wall opposite the stage door.  

Albert turned as well, gaze landing on a freshly spray painted message, scrawled largely across the brick.

Les is More

“What the fuck,” Race said, voice frantic, “Why is it missing an S, what?”

“My lord,” Davey had gone a sickly shade of pale, mouth slightly agape as he swayed on the spot.

All at once, the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place and Romeo cursed, “Davey, where was Les before we went to get Albert?”

“Asleep,” Davey said, looking at them dazedly, “In his cot.”

There was a moment’s hesitation where the air seemed to gain several pounds.  Then, Davey cursed, turning to run inside.

The others were on his heels as they hurdled up the stairs, rushing onto the stage.  Other gang members were sitting up in their cots, watching the four of them in sleepy confusion.

Albert made it to Les’ section first, blood draining from his face as he took in the scene.  The sheets from Les’ cot were strewn across the floor, tangled in a way that indicated a struggle.  His pillows were chucked aimlessly around the room, small stains of what looked like blood dotting them.

Davey pushed past Albert, skidding to his knees in front of one of the pillows, shoving it aside as if Les would materialize from under it.  

He let out a colorful stream of curses and stood again, “Jack!” He called madly, rushing to his own section.  Jack’s bed was vacant as well, although it didn’t look like it had been slept in at all.  

They all stood still, completely at a loss of what to do- shock coursing through each of their veins.  

“Wait, the kitchen light’s on,” Race said, already speeding towards the doorway that led to it.  He disappeared for a moment before they heard a curse sound from the other room.

Race peeked his head back out, eyes wide, “I found Jack.”

By now, the other gang members were out of their beds, murmuring to one another.  A small crowd moved towards the kitchen and Albert pushed through to the front, sick fear pooling in his stomach as he took in Jack, unconscious on the kitchen counter.

Race bit down harshly on his lip, shaking Jack vigorously to no avail.  He was completely out.  Race huffed out a breath, bracing himself before hoisting Jack out of his chair and lowering him to the ground.  He carefully lifted his legs, resting them on the chair above them to kickstart his blood-flow again.

“He was drugged I think,” He said distractedly, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Move,” Davey demanded, “Finch, get the counter-shot.”

Finch nodded once, sprinting out of the room towards the drug inventory.  A tense minute later, he returned, long needle in hand.  He carefully passed it to Davey, who lifted Jack’s arm, feeling around for a vein before injecting the medicine with a surprisingly steady hand.

“That should get his blood pressure up,” Davey muttered, propping back onto his heels and taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, “Give it a minute.”

With an overcompensating gasp, Jack awoke several minutes later, dazed eyes blinking towards the ceiling.

“Jack,” Race said immediately, “Les is gone.”

Jack shook his head, defeat and something deeper dancing across his face, “Shit,” he said, sitting up, lowering his legs from the chair.  

He looked directly at Davey, “So’s Crutchie.”

-

it’s 1 am i have no excuse

who hates me for making crutchie how i did? 

ANYWAY YEAH HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH WE OUT HERE AT MILESTONES

fuck ok ok

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[starkbarnes-lovechild]

A Little Healthy Competition (Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what is up with all these Avengers kissing the fella he likes. He has to do something about it.

OR

The numerous times an Avenger—who wasn’t Bucky—kissed Tony and the one time he was finally the one who kissed Tony.

1

The future (present?) never fails to fascinate Bucky. He loves how fast everything is now—from information gathering to food. He likes how transportation is faster than before and how beautiful all these new technology are. He’s always been a fan of machines but they never really had the means for him to pursue what he wants back then. But, even with his adoration for the quickness of everything today, he still prefers the slow burn of wanting to be with someone romantically, of wanting to be with someone for the long run instead of just a roll in the sheets. He still believes in wooing someone, of courting them to show them you’re serious of wanting to have them as your gal or your fella.

Which is why he has never made a ‘move’ on Tony, as the young people say.

Tony is gorgeous and smart and wonderful and he deserves to be wooed. He deserves the absolute best—nothing less.

So Bucky would leave these little trinkets at the workshop that remind him of Tony, or give him gifts now and then, like flowers and chocolates and little accessories he made. Tony always looks so pleasantly surprised and grateful.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the residents of the tower to figure out his affection for the genius.

“You could just tell him?” Steve always says.

“No, Stevie. Tony deserves to be wooed. I’ll not have him thinking I just want him for his body.” Steve always gets a confused look on his face whenever he says this but remains quiet, nonetheless.

“Just kiss him, Barnes.”

“Yeah, dude. Put us out of this misery.” Natasha and Clint would always tag team him this way, but he just ignores them.

Lieutenant Colonel call me Rhodey Rhodes always looks at him with a certain amount of pity and amusement but just shakes his head then moves on.

He’s not sure if it’s serious or not, but they have a bet going, too.

“I’m betting on Tony making the first move.” He overhears Bruce say one night.

“I believe Sergeant Barnes would be victorious in his endeavor and will initiate the intimacy.” Thor.

“Nah. I’m with Bruce on this one.” Steve. Some best friend. “Tony may be trapped in his insecurities but with the right nudge, he’ll make the first move. Bucky’s just too stubborn.” Yep. Fuck you, Stevie.

“I thought we weren’t interfering?” Pietro.

“I think we can consider a tiny nudge in the right direction as a friendly help and not interference.” Natasha. Seriously. What is up with these people?

“Nah. I’m with Thor on this. Barnes will break first. Tony doesn’t realize when someone has the hots for him.” What the fuck? Rhodes? Is every Avenger but him and Tony there?

“Let’s just set our bets. Tony will be suspicious if me, Pietro, Peter and Vision don’t show up for the new training simulation he made.” Wanda. So every Avenger is really in that little meeting.

Bucky just walks away and tries to forget everything he heard.

(Later, he would realize forgetting what he heard was some sort of mistake. Maybe. He still isn’t sure.)

Three weeks later, after the conversation he eavesdropped on and forgot, Tony walks in the kitchen, half asleep. His hair is in complete disarray, he’s wearing a shirt twice as big, looking like he’s drowning in it somehow.

He looks both adorable and delectable. How is that even possible?

Anyway. He comes in looking all adorably rumpled and Bucky just... He just can't because Tony is the most beautiful being he has ever seen. He can write songs dedicated to Tony's beauty. He's not even a fucking writer, Jesus!

Back on the topic, though. He's also pretty sure that the shirt belongs to Steve because he remembers Nat giving it as a gag gift for his birthday last year.

(For some reason, people like the idea of Tony and Steve being in a romantic relationship. Frankly, he couldn’t see the appeal. At all. And no, fuck you, he isn’t jealous. He's the fucking Winter Soldier, damn it! He doesn’t get jealous, especially of his best friend, fuck off, Steve.)

So, yes, Tony's wearing Steve’s Ask me about my ship shirt with the Captain America shield on one side and the slash thing of Stark Industries at the top, which, with the front lifted high enough, has a print of Steve and Tony about to fucking kiss.

Deep breaths, Barnes, he tells himself. He's afraid he break something if he keeps on thinking what's on the other side of that shirt.

“Hey, Tony.” Steve greets cheerfully, placing a plate of bacon and eggs and bread, and a cup of coffee in front of their tech genius. The other man simply groans and starts digging in, moaning when his brain processes the taste of good food.

Bucky can feel his fingers twitching from the desire to touch the other man.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Steve asks as his brain finally, fucking finally, processes what Tony's wearing. The blond's voice is fond, though, which means he doesn’t mind at all.

Tony hums. “You left it in my room.” He mumbles and Bucky is struggling to keep himself from breaking the mug he's holding.

What does that even mean?

(There's a Keep Reading since I realized it might look neater that way.)

He knows for a fact Steve has a thing with Sam (for fuck's sake, Barnes, it's not a thing. It's a fucking committed relationship, something you obviously want to have with Tony). He knows, logically, Steve isn’t the cheating kind and he knows Tony doesn’t like the idea of cheating either—whether he's the one doing the cheating or being cheated on, or he's the one being used to cheat on someone. So, yeah, nope, nothing to be—

What the?

Steve is suddenly in Tony's space, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “Keep it.” Steve mumbles, fondness evident in his voice as Tony leans into him annnnd now they're staring at him. “You okay, Buck?” Steve asks and if it’s anyone but Bucky, it sounds like there’s only concern there, but they’ve been friends long enough to know amusement is there and is more evident than concern.

The little shit knows what he's doing.

Tony's concerned frown, eyes down on the mug Bucky's holding, makes him look down and, shit. No wonder they look concerned. He totally broke the mug and now he's also bleeding. He is, unfortunately, holding the mug in his right hand. Damn.

“Fine.” He mumbles gruffly, hastily cleans his mess and hightails it out of there.

He. Is not. Fucking. Jealous. Shut the fuck up.

 2

 Bucky absolutely loathes these fucking galas. He knows it’s for a good cause but god fucking damn it! Humans are annoying. Oh, wait, that’s doing children a disservice; correction, adults (and sometimes teens) are fucking annoying.

He's in his stupid penguin suit and, it’s not uncomfortable, per se because it's a tailored one, but he still prefers his simple Henley and jeans and comfortable boots. He always feels like an impostor whenever he dons his suits, as if he’s pretending to be more than what—who he is.

He doesn’t like it. At all.

Well, there is an upside to it—Tony looks absolutely divine in a suit. His ass is always, always the highlight and Bucky can’t thank Ray enough for being a fantastic tailor. The man knows how to make the best asset just pop out. Tony's waist also looks a little slimmer, his shoulders broader.

That aside, Bucky usually stays in one corner or at the bar of there is one after mingling for a bit. He may not enjoy these events but he does know how to pull his weight.

“Help!” Bucky perks up, hearing Tony's frantic voice. He turns slightly and finds the other man with Natasha, back tense and hands shaking a little.

He's about to go over when Natasha smiles softly then cups the back of Tony's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

It’s a good thing he isn’t holding anything this time.

He stays there for a moment, watching with narrowed eyes when they pull away, enough for Natasha to murmur something and for Tony to respond, then he’s leaning back down and. Yeah. Bucky hastily walks away, sends a group text saying he’s reached his quota of human and interaction and is going home.

Also. If he looks like he’s sulking in his room, watching Notting Hill, of all things, while wearing loose sweatpants and a loose shirt, Friday’s his only witness.

I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.

Fuck this shit. Fuck Julia Roberts and fuck rom coms. That’s the last time he’s watching one.

“Friday, change the movie please.” He says, before he decides to actually throw something at the TV screen.

The movie starts playing and he assumes it would be about pirates—it’s called Pirates of the Caribbean, for Christ's sake. Unfortunately, Friday seems to have an odd sense of humor because there’s romance in it and, why? Why do they keep on adding romance to everything? Even horror movies have some sort of romance.

Elizabeth, I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you.

Friday is definitely trying to tell him something.

So he just turns and covers himself with his blanket, knowing Friday will know it’s her cue to turn the movie off.

(Later, much, much later, he will find out Natasha kissed Tony because one of the brunet’s creepy, crazy one night stands was in the same gala and has been pestering Tony in the creepiest way possible. Since Natasha was the one closest to him, Tony decided to go to her for help instead.

Later, he would also find out how amused Natasha was when she saw him grumpily walk away.

That won’t happen until later, though.)

 3

 Bucky knows Rhodes is Tony's Steve to his Bucky, but it doesn’t change the fact they’re way too cuddly and handsy with each other, fuck!

Again. Not jealous. But he’s pretty sure cuddling on the couch while watching a movie is some sort of violation against the 'bro code', whatever that means.

For now, though, he’s going to make good use of the stress ball Tony gave him.

(He may or may not have broken one too many mgs every time someone gets a little affectionate with the genius.

He's also quite sure everyone’s doing it on purpose because they’re all dicks.)

So, yes, watching a movie with the team. He's pretty sure the movie's good but he can't focus on it because Tony is now halfway asleep on Rhode's chest and he just can’t, okay?

You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming?

Bucky looks back at the movie, the stress ball being abused in his hand.

That’s where I'll always love you.

Nope. He looks back at Tony (and Rhodes).

The stress ball breaks.

Rhodes' lips is on Tony's temple. Rhodes is giving Tony a kiss on the temple. That’s too intimate, isn’t it? Especially since they’re already cuddling? And for Tony to lean into the touch? Really, though. He's pretty sure only people in romantic relationships do when they’re cuddling.

(“They’re practically brothers, Buck, probably closet than we could ever be. They've been through hell and back together and they've seen the literal worst of each other.”

Steve will try to reason later but Bucky will be too busy annihilating a punching bag.)

When he looks away, he meets Steve’s eyes, the blond's eyebrows raised in amusement and since Bucky’s a mature adult, he flips the asshole off and just turns back to the movie.

 4

 Tony rarely gets sick but when he does, he looks terrible and everyone in the tower is protective of him. When he gets sick, he never does it halfway and goes straight to flu with really high fever. Sometimes, especially the first two or three days, Tony doesn’t even have the energy to move and just, Bucky feels horrible on his behalf and, as it turns out, so does everyone else in the tower.

Wanda, with the help of Vision, would cook her mother’s special soup which tastes divine and would spoon-feed the genius if needed. Pietro would bake crackers an incredibly ill person can stomach because his baking has always been Tony’s favorite. Clint, Peter and Natasha would always be around when the genius needs company or in need of entertainment or just someone to talk to. Thor, Steve and sometimes Rhodey, are there for when the genius is feeling cuddly because I’ve always cuddled with Rhodey, and Thor and Steve are the perfect size to spoon me, Tony said once when asked about it. Bucky and Bruce are kind of the all-around, in a way, since he doesn’t really have much to do unlike all the other Avengers (who all seemed to have jobs and school and charity work, for some reason—maybe it’s time he finds one, too?) and Bruce I’m really not that kind of doctor is the only person Tony trusts to check on his health.

So yes, on the rare occasions Tony gets sick, everyone in the tower is tense and worried. And when he gets better, everyone seems to start feeling better as well.

Tony’s fever had gone down, still running a little hot, but a lot better than three days ago. He can now move around for short periods of time, which Bruce says something Tony should do. Currently, Tony’s sitting by the dining room table, his head pressed against the table as everyone moves around him, preparing lunch. Steve has passed by and ruffled his hair gently, a touch Tony leaned into. They all touch him as they pass, as if to remind themselves that Tony is okay and is currently with them.

When the food is on the table—with something lighter for Tony—Bruce presses his lips at the top of Tony’s head before he sits down between the genius and Steve.

It looks so paternal that Bucky didn’t even feel a twinge of jealousy.

 5

 Bucky has been with the Avengers for almost a year and a half now (one year, three months, three weeks and six days, not that he’s counting) and is celebrating his second Christmas with them—the first where he’s celebrating with all of them present since Thor was in Asgard the year prior, Sam took Steve with him to introduce the blond to his family, Tony had an emergency meeting to attend, and Pietro and Wanda were visiting their parent’s graves.

They’re currently decorating their floor and, as per tradition, they’re doing it the day before Christmas.

(Tony still have the penthouse as a personal home, like the rest of the team have their own homes outside of the Avengers. There are two floors dedicated to the Avengers, though—one serves as a home and the other one for training—and they all usually prefer staying at Stark Tower anyway.)

He, Steve, Vision and Sam are in charge of the tree because they brought in a big one. Natasha, Peter and Clint are in charge of the decorations hanging on the ceiling. The twins and Rodes are in charge of the food while Tony and Thor are in charge of sorting the decorations and the gifts.

(He’s been told, in a way, of the disastrous Christmas when they left Thor and Tony to decorate anything. Until now, neither he, the twins, Vision, Sam or Peter knew what actually happened. All they knew was that having Thor and Tony decorate would be disastrous.)

“Mistletoe!” Peter’s cheerful voice snaps him out of his own focus of decorating the tree. He turns to look at the boy to see him hanging upside down on the ceiling, a sprig of mistletoe in hand, directly above Thor and Tony. Bucky feels his fingers twitch. Worse, he’s holding the star they’re about to place on top.

Tony’s on the fair side at the moment, his natural color returning since fall, which makes the blush on his cheeks quite obvious. Thor looks ecstatic and, really, what the fuck? He’s dating Jane, isn’t he? Why does he look so happy about the thought of kissing Tony?

“Shall we indulge our shield brother?” Thor asks with a smile. Bucky feels his grip tighten. Tony simply shrugs.

Fuckity fuck fuck shit.

Thor cups Tony’s face and, upon doing a quick scan of the room, everyone’s looking at the pair expectantly.

Double fuck.

Tony smiles shyly up at the blond and tilts his face up as Thor leans down. Their lips meet, probably for longer than is expected, the team cheering loudly when Thor deepens the kiss. The star finally breaks.

At least the cheering drowns out the sound of the ornament breaking.

(And no, his heart didn’t break along with it, okay?)

I was excited to post this, okay? I’ll try to finish the rest by this week? Hopefully?