#if nobody is one wrong move away from dying

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS WITH A FEVER BC IM DYING.

scout: it’s kinda heartbreaking. he won’t wake up on time, and when one of the team goes to figure out what’s wrong he’s hacking his lungs up, shivering in bed. he’s tried at least three times to actually get up, and he hasn’t succeeded at all. they tell him to take the day off, and he almost gets pissy. he insists he’s fine, and he’s good to fight; but as he struggles to his feet the body aches shock him back onto the bed. he’ll take the day off.

soldier: nobody will get near him if he’s feverish. he’s delusional, and increasingly aggressive. but he’ll take a moment to hide in an alley, wiping off the sweat from his brow and letting out a shaky breath. he’s getting through it, but he’s gonna pay for it later.

pyro: up all night, feet slamming against the floor as they trudge from the bathroom to their bedroom back to the bathroom. more prone to vomit when they’re feverish. eventually soldier or scout will walk them to the infirmary; knowing the doctor is probably up, and can care for pyro properly.

demo: he’s taking the day off. he doesn’t care if he’s at 99.1, that’s a fever and he’s taking the day off. truthfully he’s fine. he could probably fight and be fine. but guess where he is anyway. asleep in bed, that’s right. he’ll whine to the doctor about how he doesn’t feel good, he feels a chill, he’s sweating a lot, until a note gets written.

heavy: asleep. almost dead. you would be a little worried that he is actually dead until you approach him and you feel that he is overheating. and he groans. his eyes barely open, and his face is scrunched up in an attempt to not show that he is in pain. “i don’t feel good. get out.” continues to sleep until he feels marginally better. takes a couple days. pyro will drop off a stuffed animal, and if you go in there to check on him he’s clutching it like a lifeline. but his face doesn’t relax. even in sleep.

engineer: he’ll continue to work until he’s actively stumbling and shaking and rubbing his temples. then he’s gotta stop. medic is begging these men to take their physical health seriously. engie will ask why he won’t just heal them from a fever, and medic has to be the bearer of bad news that the medigun doesn’t work that way. come back when your guts are actively necrosing and then he might be able to heal the fever as well.

medic: nobody except heavy is brave enough to go into the infirmary if the doctor is sick. he’s kind of dramatic. the cold of the infirmary is not doing his any favors. he’ll sleep in his little closet bedroom, door closed, shaking and groaning. god, he’s so cold. he knows he isn’t, in fact he’s feverish and overheating, but he’s so cold. appreciates a little back rub. he’ll sleep a little better.

sniper: hides in his van and doesn’t come out. locks the doors. if one of the team goes to find what’s going on you can hear the wretching about twenty feet from the door. “go away.” is the only thing he’s able to groan out before you hear his head back in a bucket. poor guy.

spy: dead in his smoking room. like eyes open, staring at the ceiling. he’s breathing but very shallowly, the coughs hurt so much he doesn’t even want to move around too much in case he starts coughing again. he looks like he’s actively dying or dead. a hesitant “you good…?” gets a very weak thumbs up. he’s okay, just give him a day or so to recover.

[seraph-noodle]

Being in an obscene amount of danger has been a henshin hero classic since the genre was invented

if you were a toku hero in the 70s they would take you to a filming location and find the tallest object around and point to it and say "climb that and do dangerous things on it"

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[oxydiane]

we talk a lot about how sasuke and naruto are so crazy about each other but there’s never enough attention on how the rest of the naruto cast Also thinks they are two fucking lunatics. like we are not alone on this. you have jiraiya telling naruto he needs to not go and chase a mf who tried to snatch his heart out his ribcage and naruto is like no i’d rather be a fucking moron for the rest of my life honestly. you have naruto leaving a mission and saying sory i cannot stay i need to go home and wait for sasuke and the fucking platypus looks at him ???? like he even had me confused where are you goin g to wait? ? why are you saying that like sasuke is coming back the fuck did i miss??? you have the kage summit arc which is just a whole bucket of ice being dropped onto you because you come in and immediately get slapped in the face by naruto letting himself be beat up because he won’t tell them where sasuke is??? like he has any fucking idea where sasuke is. and sai tries to make him come to his senses like naruto??? naruto WHAT ARE U DOING. it’s so bad they need an intervention. right after that naruto faces the raikage and gets on his knees saying i know my almost boyfriend almost killed your brother but i promise it wasn’t on purpose he was just being silly please don’t put a bounty on his head a war will literally ensue. and like. there’s LAYERS to this. 1. even RAIKAGE is like BOY what are you doing. STAND UP. 2. at this point you can count the people who like sasuke on the fingers of one hand like WHO is gonna start a war over him… naruto out there moving a war against a whole country by himself over his bf ok you go girl i guess. after this it gets even worse like gaara has to go up to him and be like SASUKE DOWSNT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE DOES NOT WANT YOU. and naruto just slaps his hand away in front of his family like rude?????? ignoring anything it is hilariouuusssss and then sai is like sorry. sakura lied to you they are actually off to kill sasuke and naruto gets a panic attack so severe he passes out. like i am not joking it was so bad his friends tried to kill sasuke behind his back. and then naruto escapes bedriddenment (is that a word?) after passing out from his panic attack to run and make sure NOBODY kills sasuke. like he’s on a RUSH leaping those trees he’s a boy on a mission. then after he gets there he’s like kakashi DO NOT TOUCH HIM. they launch themselves at each other bla bla gay monologues did you see what was in my heart and then. and then naruto is like. wait sasuke. and sasuke waits like sorry that’s such a little thing but it’s so funny to me like sasuke was just acting a lil murderous crazy manic wtv but naruto told him to wait and he waits. ok good boyfriend. anyways moving on naruto is like do you get it sasuke. if we fight again we will BOTH DIE! (everybody gets a ?????? bubble) i am the only one who can shoulder all that hatred. i will CARRY THE BURDEN OF YOUR HATRED AND WE WILL DIE TOGETHER! and . absolutely Everybody in that room just goes ???????????? what the FUCK is he TALKING ABKHT. everybody except sasuke. sasuke smirks and he’s like sure. they just talked about dying together and meeting each other in a different life where they’ll be free of their burdens and they’re just Fine and all ok smiling at each other and everyone is so fucking confused. like the entire supporting cast is with us side eyeing sasuke and naruto and thinking what in the everloving FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU????????

[thursdayinspace]

post-Milagro ficlet

I got an ask from a lovely anon a few days ago about *the* quote from Milagro: "Agent Scully is already in love." This is part of what will maybe turn out to be a larger WIP, or maybe not. It stands on its own for now. But who knows. Anon: thanks for the ask! I took a bit of a different turn with this, but I couldn't manage post-Milagro fic that didn't have some angst in it. tagging @today-in-fic

Agent Scully is already in love.

A look at the alarm clock tells her it’s 3 a.m. and she hasn’t managed to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she drifts off, the same thoughts jerk her awake again. She can still feel the hand around her heart, the horror and fear, the absolute certainty in her mind that this was it, she couldn’t fight this, nobody was gonna save her this time.

But she’s okay. She’s not even hurt. There’s even a decent chance that she’ll get the blood out of her clothes, even though she’s not sure she ever wants to wear them again. She’s okay, and yet she’s lying here wide awake at 3 a.m., the past few days replaying on a constant loop in her mind. She has no idea why she ever even talked to Padgett. Quite honestly, she has no idea why she did any of the things she did. She has no idea how she didn’t end up hurt or dead.

She knew the risks she was taking. Interacting with your own stalker—a really fucking terrible idea. But it’s only now that she’s truly afraid. Now that it’s over.

Mulder offered to stay with her. He would have let her stay at his apartment, but she had to get out of there, and he understood. A part of her wishes she’d have let him sleep on her couch the way he wanted. Having him close by might be a comfort now. Or it might not.

Agent Scully is already in love.

One more thing she can’t forget, no matter how hard she tries. Padgett was clearly not well, and she never should have listened to a word he said, but she did. She listened, and she heard things that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And Mulder was there. Mulder heard. She turns her face into the pillow and squeezes her eyes closed. She doesn’t wanna hear it anymore. She doesn’t want those words.

If it weren’t for those words, maybe she could have let Mulder stay. Maybe it would have been okay.

Deep breaths, she tells herself. Breathe. Relax. Think about nothing. Think about puppies and nice hot baths and the smell of freshly baked cookies.

A hand around her heart, squeezing. She can’t move, the floor hard against her back, and she knows she’s dying, she can’t move, she can’t…

Fuck. She rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with her hands as if that could stop the images from flooding her tired mind.

Jolting back to consciousness, her body tight with fear and shock, and Mulder right there, Mulder with his worried eyes, Mulder’s arms around her holding her close, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder.

She wants Mulder. Oh god. She shouldn’t have sent him away when he dropped her off, when he asked whether she wanted him to come up.

She could call her mom.

She could deal with this on her own like a fucking adult who doesn’t need anyone to hold her hand every time she gets scared.

A tiny part of her brain reminds her that this was bad, that she has every right to be shaken up. But she wants her mind to be wrong about this. She just wants it to be over.

She wants Mulder.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Mulder is the last person she can call right now.

They have worked out a system a long time ago for when one of them can’t sleep. Call and let it ring once, then hang up. If the other one is awake enough to reach for the phone, they talk. Otherwise they let each other sleep. She could do that. He’d understand. Hell, he’s probably lying awake expecting her to call. Which makes her that much more determined not to do it.

The last digits she reads on her alarm clock before she drifts off into a restless slumber are 5:28.

At 7 a.m., her alarm rings. She feels terrible. Everyone would understand if she took a sick day. But then she’d sit here all day with her thoughts, with her memories, with nothing to distract her.

**

When she walks into the office, she doesn’t remember getting dressed, she doesn’t remember driving to work. She’s not sure whether she had breakfast or not. She’s not even entirely sure she’s awake.

“Scully!” Mulder sounds surprised, and she manages to lift her head high enough to look at him as he walks around the desk. He comes straight towards her to put his hands on her shoulders. “Scully, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m fine. Just. Didn’t sleep great.”

He doesn’t let go of her, just stands there biting his lip and giving her that soft look that makes her want to weep.

She doesn’t need this on top of everything. Maybe she should have stayed home after all. She’s so good at keeping her feelings locked away. Today, she barely has the strength to stand upright or formulate a single thought that isn’t Oh god, I’m so tired.

“Go home,” Mulder says. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to… I just need to take my mind off things.”

A stranger’s fist inside her chest, forcing the life from her body, merciless, cold. Pain, panic.

Mulder squeezes her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect you to come in. I’m sure neither did Skinner. Take a few days. You need rest.”

She shakes her head, regretting the movement as the room spins out of focus for a second. “What I need is to work.” What she needs is to know if Mulder knows. She knows her fear is safe with him. She doesn’t know about all the rest. She needs something to hold onto. Something stronger than the fear. “I’m not going home,” she tells him firmly.

He hesitates a long moment, an eternity. Finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Mulder looks very unhappy, but she can’t do anything about that. She just needs… she just needs something to occupy her mind. Before she passes out on the floor and dreams of a hand around her heart, squeezing the life out of her.

**

“Hey, Scully?”

She blinks her eyes open, disoriented for a second. Her neck hurts and her head is spinning as she sits up. Mulder is standing in the doorway. She’s sitting behind the desk. Right. She wanted to check something. He went to… do something else that she doesn’t remember. “Sorry,” she says, and wipes drool from the corner of her mouth. Falling asleep at the desk is probably not the best way to convince him she’s okay to work. A quick look at her watch tells her she can’t have been out for more than ten minutes. “What is it?”

He waves a file in her direction. “I think we should check this out as quickly as possible,” he says.

“Oh.” She manages a nod. Do they have a case? She remembers talking about something earlier that they decided to dismiss. She can’t even recall what it was. But apparently they settled on something. “Yeah, absolutely.” She pauses, not sure whether she wants to ask. She really doesn’t want him to know that she completely zoned out on all of it. But then again, she can’t exactly do her work if she doesn’t know what they’re even working on. “What, uh. What is the case again? Sorry, I guess I’m a bit… distracted today.”

“Yeah.” He gives her a long look. “The haunted hotel, remember? And it’s just an hour and a half from here.”

“Oh!” she says, pretending to remember, deciding she can read whatever is in that folder on the way to… wherever it is they’re going. “Right. Yes. Okay. And you want us to go there right now?”

“Why not?” he says, shrugging. “No time like the present.”

“Good, yeah, okay.” She suppresses a yawn and tries not to shiver too obviously. She has reached the level of exhaustion where her whole body hurts and she feels like she’s running a fever.

“I’ll drive,” he says. She doesn’t argue.

**

Out of sheer stubbornness, she manages not to fall asleep in the car. She even manages to make conversation. Her speech is barely even slurred. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately, he put the file in the trunk of the car before she remembered to take it from him, but he’s telling her some ghost stories about the place while they drive, so she feels reasonably well-prepared.

“Here we are,” he says, pulling into the parking lot of an expensive-looking hotel that looks not even remotely like she imagined. But after all these years, she’s come to expect the unexpected.

“This is it?”

“Yup.” He smiles at her and gets out of the car. She follows, her legs heavy, but she gets them moving, gets them to carry her towards the entrance of the building.

The spacious foyer they walk into screams “I’m way out of your pay grade,” and she notices guests and staff who all look very happy and not at all like they’re being plagued by ghost sightings. Business seems to be going well. Which is also not what she expected from a place that is haunted enough for Mulder to open an X-file on it. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, and something in his voice makes her turn her head and study his profile carefully.

“Mulder, what aren’t you telling me?”

He stops and turns towards her with a sigh. “I may have done something rash and stupid, and please feel free to yell at me if I completely overstepped any boundaries here.”

“Oh god,” she says. “What did you do?”

“I, um.” He directs his gaze at the floor next to her feet and grimaces. “I may have gone to Skinner and told him we’re both taking the rest of the week off.”

“You…what?”

“And I may have called here and booked us a suite. For two nights. A… vacation, I guess.”

“Mulder…”

“Two bedrooms. And there are go ghosts here, don’t worry.” He pauses before he continues, his voice low and careful. “As long as we’re anywhere near the Hoover Building, you’ll work. I know it and you know it.”

“Mulder, seriously…”

“You need to sleep, Scully,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re dead on your feet. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. She’s so tired. So very, very tired. All she wants is a bed. All she wants is for her memories to leave her alone. All she wants is to sink against Mulder’s chest and cry with exhaustion and the emotional hangover from almost being murdered. Again. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks so hopeful, so relieved. Another thing that almost makes her cry.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Shit. He makes it really hard for her to feel any other sort of way about him. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

She frowns. “What about all those stories you just told me about this place?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I kind of made them up.”

Her laughter turns into a yawn and he puts his arms around her shoulders as they get their key and find the elevator up to their floor. She leans against him, letting him hold her upright. Now that she’s given in to this, the prospect of lying down and closing her eyes seems so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Oh no,” she says, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, nothing.”

He laughs and pulls her tighter against him just as the elevator door opens and they step out. “I’m sorry. I honestly completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah.” She feels such a rush of fondness for him it makes her aching heart flutter in her chest. “I’m noticing you don’t have a bag with you either.”

“Well.” He lets go of her to open the door to their suite and lets her walk in ahead of him. “We’ll just have to spend the next couple of days in hotel robes.”

“Maybe we should go out and buy a few things,” she suggests.

“Or,” he says, “you go and lie down and I’ll go out and pick up a few things for us.”

“But—”

“Scully,” he interrupts. “Trust me. I think I can manage to find a pair of sweatpants and a couple of t-shirts for you that will fit.”

“Underwear,” she says and blushes.

“I can manage that too,” he says, and she’s too tired to feel embarrassed about anything right now.

Agent Scully is already in love.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“That’s not difficult,” he says, “since I’m the only partner you’ve ever had. There’s not really that much competition.”

In lieu of an answer, she hugs him, pleased when he puts his arms around her in return. She doesn’t feel the hard floor against her back when he holds her, she doesn’t remember what it felt like when her vision went black and she felt herself dying.

She really wants to ask him if he knows who Padgett was talking about. If he believed it. But she won’t. Not right now. There’s time. And maybe she already knows the answer. Either way, it’s true. And she’s too weak to fight it.

“Thank you,” she says.

He pulls her closer and sighs against her hair. “I just want you to be okay,” he says softly.

“I will be,” she promises.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Whether it’s friendship or something else that he’s offering, she knows that whatever shape his feelings come in, she’s never been loved like this before. By anyone. And even with all the ghosts in her mind, she feels like she might finally get some sleep after all.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Come Back To Me

Currently imagining Arthur Morgans reaction to seeing you again after you supposedly died.

Warnings: Angst, mentions/descriptions of blood/injuries + torture, eventual fluff, no smut (yet), Arthur Morgan x reader, gender neutral reader, religious talk, probably out of character, but he just really loves you okay, so he gets emotional

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + PT 2 HERE, PT 3 HERE

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Let's say when Dutch was going to meet up with Colm, you offered yourself to act as backup instead, not wanting to make Arthur work any harder than he had.

Infact, seeing how exhausted your husband was, you were about to tear Dutch a new one for trying to make him work even more.

But they needed a sniper. And sure, you were tired. You had just gotten back from another solo job, where you scored a pretty penny for the gang. But you knew Arthur deserved a break. And so you said you'd help instead.

But while waiting on that mountain top for Colm to try something, you got distracted. You were tired, and you got sloppy. You weren't expecting his men to come for you. They snuck up behind you and wrangled you to the ground, with it taking four, maybe five men to keep you pinned down before they finally knocked you out.

When Dutch returned without you, Arthur knew something was wrong. Dutch claimed that you were probably out just doing another job, running off like you always did. Your horse was even gone from where you hitched it. And foolishly, Arthur believed him.

Now, it had been 5, maybe, 6 months after your disappearance. One month in Dutch stopped sending out search parties after they found your hat bloodied in an abandoned house, along with your ring finger.

They knew it was your ring finger, as it still had the wedding band Arthur bought for you on it.

Charles and Javier searched the area for any trails, but all of them were ruined past the point of tracking.

They arrived back to camp, bearing the bad news, that no trail could be found. Dutch pronounced you dead and had a honorary funeral. Swearing they would all eventually get revenge on Colm for this.

Revenge hadn't come.

It became even more of a common sight to see Arthur come back to camp covered in blood that wasn't his. He obsessively picked off O'Driscolls, killing and torturing every camp he found. Questioning every single one; Where were you? Where was Colm? What had Colm done to you? Were you even still alive?

Screaming that if he ever found Colm, he would rip him apart. Telling Dutch he should've killed him when he had the chance.

The image of your severed finger was engraved into his mind. They hadn't even sold the ring. They left it on just to rub it in his face.

He almost collapsed to the floor when he first saw it. He felt like he was dying. Who knew emotional pain could be so physical?

Even after the camp had sat him down and told him you were probably dead, and that he needed to accept that, he had never stopped searching. In fact, he punched Dutch in the face after he told him that.

He drew away from the gang, isolating himself. Dutch, Tilly, Hosea, Marybeth, Charles. Nobody could get through to him. He shut them all out, trying to act like everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. He knew that. He hated the world for moving on without you.

Every night he was drinking himself into a stupor, it was the only thing that let him sleep. He stopped talking or eating much, he was obviously losing weight. Always working, bringing in cash but never staying for too long.

He stopped sleeping at camp. He stopped sleeping much in general. He had nightmares whenever he did.

Your tent reminded him of you. Whenever he did sleep, it was always in your tent. It made him feel less alone.

Nobody ever took it over or moved your things because they all knew Arthur would gut whoever did.

He always thought of you, and whenever he did, he couldn't help but blame himself.

Why did he let you take his place? Why hadn't he searched for you the second Dutch came home without you? He couldn't do anything right. The same thing that happened to Eliza and Issac had happened to you. And all he did was sit around like a fool and let it happen.

How many days, weeks, had they tortured you before you died? Months, even? God, did they even wait for you to die before they took your finger off? Could you still be alive? You've always been a fighter, he knows that. If anybody was to survive being at Colm's mercy, it would be you. Could you still be waiting? In some basement, some hole in the ground, some old shack for Arthur? For the gang? For anybody to come save you? He knew what type of man Colm was. He knows Colm would do worse just to spite Dutch.

Was this punishment? For everything he had done? Was this hell? He wasn't religious, but every night where he went to bed without your presence next to his, it sure felt like it.

He was losing Dutch to his insanity. He was losing his way of life to the passing time.

And now he had lost you.

You.

God,

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't he have at least died with you? He would spend an eternity in hell if he could spend his eternity with you.

But what could he do about it?

What was he doing about it?

Riding into Valentine to drink himself half dead. Alone. Riding into an endless nightmare alone without you.

As he was hitching his horse outside the saloon, he saw your distinct mare hitched right next to his.

For a moment he was happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. As this was proof that maybe, just maybe you were alive. And then, he realized what had actually happened.

Some bastard after killing you had taken your horse. Like some sort of trophy.

He stomped inside the saloon. He bought that horse for you. Saw it at Strawberry while going to free Micah and just knew that you had to have it after your last one died in Blackwater.

The girl was so sweet, and obedient too. He had hunted down a panther in Lemoyne and sold it to the trapper to make a saddle for you. He made sure to fill up the saddle bags with everything you'd need to care for it, along with a couple of other gifts for you sprinkled in. When he shyly brought the whole ensemble to you, you jumped into his arms like you two were young again.

And now some selfish bastard was making a mockery of it.

He walked up to the Bartender and slammed his hands on the bar, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. Demanding to know who rode in with that horse.

The bartender nervously said they had rented a room. Were still upstairs as they spoke. He walked upstairs, unholstering his knife.

He was gonna make this slow.

Treading carefully towards the bedroom, turning the handle. It was locked. He backed up and kicked the door open, pointing his gun at whoever was inside, ready to shoot them in the leg if they tried to escape. No way was he gonna give them an easy death with a headshot.

And then?

He saw you.

Standing near the bed, bruises and cuts, scars new and old littering your body. Wrapped in bandages soaked in blood. Leaning against a bedpost, barely able to stand, pointing a shaky gun at the intruder.

Time stood still as your eyes met.

He dropped his gun. You lowered yours.

He whispered your name, almost like a prayer. Praying this was real.

You said his back.

Then, he ran towards you. Wrapping you in a hug, holding onto you for dear life.

Praying that if this was a dream, he would never have to wake up.

Running his fingers through your hair, gripping onto your shirt, he felt your chest heave. Your tears falling onto his shoulder, wetting his jacket.

You were crying- no, you were apologizing.

To him.

For worrying him.

And then he started crying too.

Crying into the crook of your neck like a little boy.

Arthur never really cried. He hadn't cried in so long. After your death, he never let himself cry. He felt like he didn't deserve it.

But you?

You were alive.

Your hands wrapped around his back, the distinct pressure of your ring finger missing.

Feeling your missing ring burn a hole through his pocket. Remembering the sight of your severed finger.

And the hell you must've gone through to stay alive.

He felt sick, as he sobbed into your shoulder.

What kind of man was he? Needing you to comfort him after you were tortured?

He dropped to the floor, his knees couldn't hold him anymore. Still holding onto your body, now just your legs, for dear christ. Like you might fade away if he let go. He wouldn't let you go.

He missed you more than anything.

You slowly bent down, running your fingers through his hair.

He began wondering if you were real. Was this real?

You got down to his level, sitting on your knees. Kissing him on the forehead and putting your hand on the back of his head. Pushing him into your chest, as he only sobbed louder, blubbering and crying like a fool.

About how he thought he lost you. How the whole gang thought you had died. How he never stopped looking for you. How he thought he was dying after you didn't show up back home. How he never stopped wearing his wedding ring. How he always kept yours in his pocket. How he cradled a photo of you the first time he slept after you died.

How he wanted to bleed the world for killing you.

How he wanted to shoot everything to ashes.

How he missed you every waking moment.

How he dreamed of you every night.

How he would've given anything just to hold you one more time.

Crying into your arms,

Begging you not to leave him.

You rubbed circles onto the back of his head as you comforted him. Whispering that they only tortured you, that you eventually managed to get out, that you were fine. That you're alive. That you're here with him. That you're here for him. That you weren't going anywhere.

The months that he thought you were dead melted away as he felt your fingers run through his hair,

As you promised you weren't leaving him.

You're alive.

You're with him.

You're here.

And he swore to fucking God,

He was never letting you go again.

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Okay, so should I do a smutty pt2 where he REALLY shows you how much he missed you, or should I do one who he goes fucking yandere esque from the prospect of almost losing you?? Or should I do both??

[the-oblivious-writer]

Work Song

Clarisse La Rue x Demi-god!Reader

Drabble

Summary: You go to comfort Clarisse, your girlfriend, after her spear has been snapped in half

Warning(s): No pronouns, r comforting Clarisse, & mentions of dying,

Notes: Been wanting to do something with Work Song by Hozier for a while now, Clarisse seems like the perfect candidate

Clarisse was pissed. No, she was more than just pissed. She was livid, enraged, furious—she wanted to bury someone. Percy Jackson breaks her spear in half, then gets claimed by one of the big three not long after. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. 

People made sure to steer clear of Clarisse as they walked back to camp. As soon as she entered her cabin, everyone left. Nobody wanted to be in the same area as Clarisse while she was like this, it’s a simple rule of survival. Plus, they all knew the one person who didn’t have to abide by the same rules as them—you.

You waited a few minutes before knocking on her cabin door. Clarisse was ready to glare at whoever was at the door, but that glare faded as soon as her eyes met you. “Hey,” you softly greeted as you closed the door behind you. You walked over to her bed, looking at her with nothing but love. 

“Hey,” she dryly replied.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you sat down beside her. You raised a hand to start gently rubbing her shoulder. “How do you feel?” You asked before you placed a kiss on her temple. Clarisse couldn’t help but melt into your touch, leaning her head down to rest on your shoulder.

“Mad. Infuriated. Like I want to kill a fish,” she seethed with balled up fists.

“How about—” You lean down to kiss her cheek, “—you lay down with me first? You know, before you begin that itinerary.” You give her toothaches just from kissing her.

 Clarisse looked up at you—her head was still resting on your shoulder. She wanted to push you away, she wanted to be alone, she wanted to tell you no. But oh, she couldn’t. Not when she looked into your eyes, not when she felt the rush she did when you kissed her cheek. Not when it’s you. 

“Sounds good,” she finally replied. Her tone held no venom, only genuineness. You smiled back at her, looking at her with the same expression she held. The expression one wears when they’re looking at the love of their life.

“Yeah?” Clarisse responded to that with a light nod. “Great,” you said, your smile never faltering. You leaned down again, this time, aiming for her lips as Clarisse moved towards you to do the same.

After that, you and Clarisse spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms. It may not seem like much to others, but the two of you wouldn’t have it any other way. You never asked her once about the wrong she did, you never made her feel like less.

She has already decided that when her times comes around, she wants to be laid in the cold dark earth. No grave could hold her body down, she'll crawl home to you.

Clarisse La rue would die happily, if it meant being with you. 

-----------

A/N: finally got to use this wonderful song

[maybe-im-dark]

Half the boyfriend, half the fun

The first thing Wade felt was cold. Not the gentle coolness of an autumn breeze or the refreshing chill of freshly fallen snow. No, this was a biting, numbing cold. His vision was blurry and his body felt...off. he tried to move but nothing happened. As he blinked away the fog in his brain and looked down at himself the realization hit him like a punch in the gut —his legs were gone.

"Crap!", he muttered in a raspy voice.

Slowly the memories returned. He and Logan had been on a mission, targeting a group of small-time criminals, who had holed up in the woods. Get there, take them out, get the cash, done. But apparently something had gone horribly wrong.

"Logan?", he called out.

No answer.

Panic flared as he looked around the wooded area. Using his arms, he began to crawl foward, twigs and pine needles digging into his stomach. Not caring for the blood trail he left behind. A few yards away he spotted Logan and the sight made his heart skip a beat. Logan looked just as bad, if not worse. Instead of being cut, his body was ripped off at one of the vulnerable intervertebral discs, that were not adamantium, torn apart brutally. One half of his metal spine was sticking out of his torso, glinting against the bloodied mess of torn skin, flesh and tendons.

"Oh, no, no, no!" Wade mumbled, dragging himself as quickly to Logan's side, as his upper half would allow. "Come on, peanut, don't do this to me!"

Logan's healing factor was strong, but unlike Wade, he couldn't regrow limbs. They needed to be attached to his body, for the wounds to start closing. Unfortunately Logan's lower half was nowhere in sight. Wade's mind raced. His belt was nearby, scattered in a pile of dried leaves. Wade rolled onto his side, grabbing it. Thankfully his Hello Kitty fliphone —small enough to fit into one of the tiny pockets— was in there for emergencies.

His fingers shook so badly that it was difficult to press the small buttons. As he went through the contact list, the adrenaline started to wear off and the pain set in. Today was really turning out to be a shit day.

The phone barely rang twice, before Dopinder picked up.

"Hey, Mr. Pool, what can i do for you on this fine day?", the cab driver's familiar thick indian accent greeted him.

"Cut the chit-chat, Dopinder! Shit has hit the fan and it's flying everywhere! Get to the coordinates i'm sending, stat!"

He hung up, quickly typing in their location and hitting send twice in agitation.

It didn't take long. Ten minutes later, Wade heard the distant screech of tires as Dopinder slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop. Dopinder hurried over, as fast as he could on the uneven ground. When he saw Wade and Logan, he looked as though he was about to puke, pressing a hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, i know! America's next topmodel isn't in our future anytime soon! Now pull yourself together for fuck's sake!", Wade yelled. "You need to help me find Logan's legs. They're around here somewhere."

Dopinder nodded, his legs wobbling, as he searched the area. A moment later he returned, cradling Logan's legs to his chest like a baby. They were still inside the yellow pants and blue boots. And why would they have undressed him? Surely nobody was that sick. Wade pushed the distracting thoughts aside.

"Alright Dopinder", he instructed, trying his best to sound calm. "Attach them to his torso. He'll up on his own."

Dopinder followed the instructions, carefully pressing Logan's lower half against his upper body. Nothing happened. Logan's wounds remained open, his body still split in two.

"Maybe...maybe he's already dead?" Dopinder suggested, looking uneasy at Logan's unconscious form.

"No, he's just passed out", Wade said. Then quietly to himself: "I hope he stays that way. I'd rather he didn't have to see this sight himself."

The wheels inside Wade's brain turned as he wracked his brain for what to do next. "We need to prevent his body parts from dying off! Ice! We need ice! Dopinder get us to a gas station, quick!"

Wade grabbed Logan's legs and Dopinder hoisted him under one arm and Logan's torso under the other, rushing back to the car. Wade maneuvered himself onto the passenger's seat as Dopinder carefully laid Logan's halves on the backseat.

Then he sped off, ignoring speed limits, though to Wade the drive still felt far too slow. Every red light cost them precious minutes. Finally they pulled up to the first gas station and Dopinder sprinted inside.

Desperately Wade turned to look at Logan. His skin was ashen with deep shadows under his eyes, that hadn't been there before.

"Hold on, honey", Wade whispered, reaching out to gently stroke Logan's disheveled dark brown hair.

A tingling sensation ran through Wade, as he realized, with some relief, that small stumps were beginning to form below his hips. His own legs were regenerating, at last. At least something was working as it should.

Dopinder returned, carrying two large plastic containers and several bags of crushed ice. He filled both containers two the brim with ice, carefully placing Logan's upper half in one and his lower half in the other.

"This is sick! Just sick!" Dopinder murmured as he took in the sight.

"Quit whining and drive to the mansion!" Wade barked.

Dopinder swallowed. But...shouldn't he be in a hospital?"

Wade rolled his eyes. "Yeah and what are you going to tell the doctors? 'Oh the guy in pieces here is actually a mutant with self healing powers, that aren't working right now. If you could fix him up, please!' Newsflash: Most people aren't too fond of mutants! These anti-mutant-propaganda-posters all over the city aren't just for show!"

Dopinder opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, nodding stiffly. He got behind the wheel and drove off. On one hand Wade felt guilty for going off on him. It wasn't fair. But on the other hand, he didn't give a fuck. Right now Logan's wellbeing wad all that mattered, everything else could wait.

"The gate's closed!" Dopinder said as they approached the mansion.

The school was an imposing building from the 19th century made of grey stones, its turrets and bay windows making it look more like a castle.

"Should we...announce ourselves?"

Wade shook his head. "Just drive right through!"

Dopinder floored it, crashing through the gate. The metal wings bend inward, scraping the sides of the car with a horrible screech as a shower of sparks flew across the windshield. Whatever. The professor could cover the damage; the old fart was loaded.

Dopinder parked, leaping out of the car. Wade wadled behind him on his tiny stumps.

"Help!" Dopinder screamed, pounding on the entrance door. "We need help!"

"Yeah, we have a medical emergency! Screw what Professor Egghead says, come out here!" Wade joined in.

The door swung open revealing Hank McCoy in a white lab coat over a beige cable-knit sweater and corduroy pants.

"Mr Wilson, i believe we made it clear, that you are not welcome here! And to have the audacity to insult the professor..."

"Come off it, cookie monster! Logan's badly injured and he won't heal!" Wade cut him off.

Hank adjusted his glasses, irritated. "Yes, yes. I'll take a look at him right away."

"Oh my stars and garters!", he exclaimed as he saw Logan's body halves in the ice-filled containers.

"Holy crap!"

Jean Grey had joined them, without Wade noticing. Not exactly ladylike to curse like that. Did Cyclops know his fiancée used such language?

Using telekinesis, Jean carefully levitated Logan's body parts, guiding them as she and Hank rushed back to the mansion. Wade followed as quickly as his stubby legs would allow.

"What are you gonna do? Will he be okay? Why...?"

The door slammed shut in his face.

Outraged, he turned to Dopinder. "Really? They're just leaving the readers with a cliffhanger like that? Well, to be continued i guess."

[vampirzina]

Hear me out. Mk1 Bi-han and Kung Lao. (separately) With Johnny cages sister! READER. IDK WHY BUT I LOVE THE CONCEPT.

✮ ┆cage’s sister!reader (w. Bi Han & Kung Lao) hcs

tw: gn pronouns (you only), sfw, mdni, hcs-blurb

notes: i’ve heard of this concept and i actually like it!! also found these dividers that i’ve been just dying to use, they’re perfect for johnny. but im excited to have the chance to give my take on it lol

masterlist

Bi Han loathed you, like your brother, as soon as he saw you. It was more of a wrong place at the wrong time—you visited just as Johnny (and Kenshi) were being confronted by Liu Kang and the Lin Kuei, and to add to his increasingly sour mood, you gasped a little too dramatically. However, his intrigue in you started when you started to challenge him yourself and wouldn’t back down. You’re quite lucky to have had Liu Kang and Kuai Liang there, because he was the type back then to do it and not think twice.

Bi Han is not as secretive and mysterious as he thinks he is around you. If you go to the Wu Shi with Johnny, sometimes you’d see him around there or the Fire Temple. Why? He thinks because if you don’t know, nobody does… Johnny stares at Bi Han back from any distance. Liu Kang can’t help but smile to himself when he sees Bi Han watches you train with others (under the guise of watching everyone). Bi Han’s cover is accidentally blown by Liu Kang, who like Kenshi, heard a little too much.

If you decide not to go with Johnny, it really doesn’t matter to Bi Han anyway. Once Bi Han is told that you visit the Wu Shi sometimes, he starts showing up, but a little later than that to avoid suspicion. Johnny notices right away and quite literally complains to anyone who would listen… Including you. That’s how Bi Han’s cover is blown. You’ve never seen a cold man so hot in the collar until that night.

ᯓ★

“I yield! Yield…”

You exhaustedly fell back onto your bosom, holding your hand up at Bi Han to shake it at him. You wince with aching arms, chest rising and falling from chase for your breath. You direct your wince up at him from your elbows as he moves to tower over you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I am not looking at you like anything.”

“You kind of are. You wear one of two faces at all times,” you eyed him as he moved until your frame was slot between his legs. “Disappointment—and more disappointment.”

“Then you do not know me well enough, [Reader],” Bi Han scoffed, brown hues narrowing a bit down at you. “I had hope otherwise from how much training you’ve received this past few weeks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard enough about you from my own brother. You should’ve told me we’re dating weeks ago,” you carelessly outed, but by the way Bi Han froze where he stood over you—metaphorically, of course—it had your face contorting into something indescribable.

The silence was scaring you.

“Hey, chill out, okay? You look so pale right now, oh man,” you swallowed thickly in the sudden awkwardness and through your sheepish laughter. “It was only a joke... Unless…”

“Shut up,” Bi Han firmly nudged your side with his foot, making you grunt. The amount of sweat on his fingertips could form icicles.

───

Bi Han hates Johnny’s strain of arrogance a little less now, until it starts to rub off on him.

Kung Lao first met you at the Wu Shi. You were visiting for the day from the city, and passed him when you were looking for your brother Johnny. He thought how awfully similar you looked to Johnny, but knowing Kung Lao, by time he gave it any thought at all he’d seen you around Johnny. You two, along with Kenshi and Raiden, were introduced formally.

The more you kept visiting, the more Kung Lao saw you more than just ‘Johnny’s Sister’. He really found you funny (if not funnier than Johnny himself), and he loved the way you fearlessly challenged your brother, even if you’d lose. There’s a running joke between the four of them that Kung Lao is going to train Johnny’s sister in more than just fighting, but most of them brush it off as a joke. To Kung Lao, it’s rooted in truth.

And because I feel like it’s not talked about enough, Kung Lao doesn’t mind the little press you receive here and there because of who you are. As the sister of a once-famous actor, the nosiness of paparazzi and the public into Johnny’s life was also somewhat commonplace. You don’t receive it anymore, assuming you’re not famous yourself, but to Kung Lao it doesn’t matter. Whenever he gets bored or curious, he looks your name up when he has the time.

Kung Lao doesn’t see it as a competition, but he does start bragging… And a lot. But because you’ve seen a lot of nice things in your life and much more impressive things than a simple farmer because of Johnny, he only tries harder to impress you. It becomes even more difficult when Johnny sees right through him and begins to cockblock his attempts to woo you. It’s rare that he ever fails, but sometimes Kung Lao tries so hard that he fails. Has anyone heard of The Wolf and the Man fairy tale?

ᯓ★

The inseparable two sat over breakfast.

“I heard [Reader]’s coming over today,” Raiden didn’t even need to look at Kung Lao as he scooped up the last of his meal into his mouth. “Johnny said.”

This is beside Raiden; so usually humble, he is very much entertained by Kung Lao’s attempts to win Johnny’s sister’s heart over and over again, even though he’s already won.

Perhaps it was Johnny’s flamboyance and nice things that convinced Kung Lao otherwise.

“And we have that milestone check today, too? Why didn’t you say something earlier? I thought we were friends,” Kung Lao couldn’t believe Raiden, but he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I hope I get Johnny, ‘cause there’s finally going to be something to laugh about when I finally get him.”

Raiden gave him a look.

It wasn’t too soon after that Kung Lao started to shuffle in place impatiently as he waited to see Johnny come around the corner—a smile rose on his lips when he finally saw him, and then you in tow. He loved to watch you skip up to give him a firm hug; he absolutely craved this.

“Good luck! Johnny keeps putting his legs on me, so beat him up for me, ‘kay?” you nod in encouragement, bright eyes looking up at him in enthusiasm.

“Of course. In fact, let’s make that a promise,” Kung Lao agreed with a knowing smile, watching you give him two thumbs up and practically jig away to the margins to stand beside Liu Kang, who motioned for the respective two.

…Safe to say, Kung Lao’s promise didn’t go as planned somehow. He can’t even believe it himself yet over Johnny’s rejoice, he watches for your reaction—even you’re shocked.

“Hey, don’t think about it too much,” Raiden couldn’t stop his laughing from impounding on his words. He extended a hand to help a pouting Kung Lao up. “Try not to brag about winning next time, you might not jinx it if you do.”

───

Kung Lao feels much better when you reassure him that he’s more than enough for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

[panchulien]

summary; nikolai almost dies and price is mad about it.

Close calls and near-death experiences aren't anything new to Captain Price. He's lost count at this point of how many times he's come close to dying. Part of the job, no big deal. Sometimes a few screws are loose, shit goes wrong, some reckless action is taken, but at the end of the day what matters is that they get the job done and return home in one piece.

It was one of those days. After a shit show of a mission, they all managed to come back home in one piece, although in bad shape, but alive nonetheless. And Price had no one else but Nikolai to thank for that. Nikolai, the selfless man that he was, saved their asses once again. Nobody's surprised. (Except, they all were, because it wasn't part of the plan and Nikolai almost fucking died. Almost.)

And yet, he was feeling anything but thankful. No, he was pissed. Extremely so as he stood in front of the window by his desk, his grip tight on his vest, most his gear still attached to him. He was so furious he didn't even change or visit the med bay for his injuries. Pissed at himself for getting them into that position in the first place. Pissed at Nikolai for being so reckless with his life.

It had been so close. So close. Price could've sworn he thought Nikolai was gone. If this was any of his men, he'd have scolded them about disobeying his orders, despite it being the right course of action, he'd tell them to never do that again and they would move on. But Nikolai wasn't exactly... one of his subordinates. Nikolai would always do what he thought was right.

Truth be told Price was shaken, and it translated to anger, still trying to process today's events. The sheer terror he felt when he saw Nikolai kneel there with a gun to his head. It was like he was back at that building when he first found Nikolai again, the man one second away from being put a bullet in his head, and he could never forget the look Nikolai had on his face. It's why this one was hitting too close to home. It's why the burden of the command was especially heavy on his shoulders when sentiments were involved. He deeply cared for the rest of the team and he would gladly die for them, but with Nikolai it was different. If Nikolai had died under his command Price didn't know what he would do. And the possibility of that happening terrified him, once again reminded today.

He was pulled back from his thoughts by the door opening and Nikolai welcoming himself. Price didn't turn, recognizing the footsteps. Nikolai was careful trying not to startle him, he was very much aware of what he did, had to do, and he came in to apologize for that. And to check up on his partner and make sure he was okay.

"John.." He started as he slowly approached him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Price couldn't help the slight tremble in his voice, which didn't go unnoticed by Nikolai.

Nikolai was taken aback, he wasn't expecting such a... Strong reaction. He was fully prepared for a scolding, maybe even a punch to his face, but Price breaking his composure was not something he saw often.

"I'm sorry. I thought-" He felt awful, not about what he had to do, but for making Price feel this way. Whatever it was, it took a toll on him.

"If Ghost was one second too late with that shot, I'd be scraping your brains off the floor. Do you understand that?"

"I do. But I had to buy us some time." Nikolai tried to explain himself. "The boys were compromised, and I know you'd blame yourself had anything happened to them." He was growing more nervous by the second because Price wasn't even looking at him.

His role in the plan was extraction and nothing more, but Nikolai was correct. His decision to intervene was initially what saved the mission. But had Ghost been a second too late with his one shot, they would've returned home without Nikolai. The man always did live his life on edge, for others, so much as he'd use himself as bait for the sake of the mission. How fucking poetic.

"Fuck's sake, Nik! We could've come up with something else! We could've abandoned the fucking mission for all I care!" Price's voice came louder than he intended, but at this point he couldn't care. "I almost lost you, Nik." Came quieter this time as he turned his back to look at Nikolai.

His teary eyes was like a dagger to Nikolai's heart, and Nikolai finally closed the gap between them in a hurry, pulling Price in a tight hug. Prices hand came up to grab the back of his jacket, almost like he's holding on for dear life, as he buried his face into Nikolai's neck.

They stood like that for a while, Price pulling him even closer, as if afraid Nikolai might disappear if he let go. His body trembling in Nikolai's arms as he sobbed softly.

"It's okay, my love. I'm here. I've got you." Nikolai whispered softly, holding him tight and rubbing soothing circles on his back. It hurt to see Price like this, and he knew he'd take it the same way if it was any other men of his. Blame himself for their death. No, Nikolai couldn't have that. He was alive and well, and he wasn't gonna let John beat himself up over it. They had a lot of talking to do, but for now Price was content with the reminder that Nikolai was alive in his arms.

[ttjisung]

back 2 u 𝜗𝜚

p. jisung x fem!reader smau

in which jisung does his best to avoid you, his ex, until he realizes his mistake far too late cw: suggestive themes, bad angst, cheating, swearing

i'm not going back, back, back, back, back

masterlist

previous next

chapter iii. (wc: .8k)

If you had to use one word to describe meeting Park Jisung it would be easy. Everything with him felt easy. 

You had been a shy girl growing up, finding it hard to get along with your peers due to your timid nature. By some lucky fortune, you were paired up with Huang Renjun in your freshman year science class. It had been an elective, meaning you were able to share a class with him although being two years your senior. You had seen him here and there, yet never talked to him for obvious reasons. You were reserved and he looked like he was one second away from yelling at whoever dared interact with him. You thought so, at least, until he handed you a candy your second day of school. He grinned at you with no malice in his eyes, and that’s when you realized it was worth crawling out of your own shell to talk to him. 

It took you both around a year to decide you were each other’s best friends. Even during your junior year when you met Yangyang and Dejun, you still never felt as though they could replace Renjun - nobody could. Renjun continued to prove you wrong, introducing you to Park Jisung in your last year of high school. He had graduated at that point, alongside Yangyang and Dejun who you only met after they had left, and the thought of being alone again made you miserable, until Renjun offered to introduce you to his younger friend who was in the same year as you. He had warned you that the taller male was shy, and you simply giggled, joking about how you obviously were as well. 

Renjun was, of course, right. Jisung was incredibly shy, yet for some reason it comforted you - knowing you wouldn’t have to worry about being judged or made fun of. Although your relationship resembled that of two timid middle schoolers who obviously had crushes on each other, you found his company to be endearing. 

It was no surprise to any of your mutual friends when Jisung asked you out. The scene was straight out of a cheesy rom com - he bought you your favorite flowers, drove you to a pretty hill (the steering wheel of his car was slippery and drenched with sweat), and surprised you with a cute picnic. After stumbling on his words for a solid five minutes, he finally asked you the question you were dying to hear. 

“C-can I be your boyfriend, Y/nie?”

You obviously said yes, moved to tears by his romantic gestures. After that, everything felt right. Hanging out with your friends all the while holding his hand and whispering little secrets to him. Eating lunch every day together near your favorite pink leafed tree. It was everything you had dreamed of. He was perfect. 

“Did you think I just wouldn’t find out, Y/n?” Your whole body shook as tears wracked up. “Ji, please. Just listen to me. I don’t know who lied to you but that’s what this is… It’s all lies-” “How come I have evidence then? I was here all alone last night waiting for today so we could hang out, and this whole time you were out kissing random men.” Jisung had never been this bold, or confrontational. Had it been any other situation, you would’ve felt proud for how stable he was defending himself. Of course, this wasn’t the case. 

Before you could answer, Jisung quickly paced into his room. You chased after him the fastest you could, yet were met by a slammed door on your face. “Please baby. Open the door.” His voice came out muffled in response, “Don’t call me that. You… You disgust me, Y/n.” You cried harder.

Eventually he opened the door, a box full of framed photos, clothes, and random trinkets you had gotten for him residing in it. With a force you had never seen him use before, he roughly shoved the box into your arm, grabbing the other and pushing you towards the exit of the apartment. He was too entranced in the situation to realize you were clawing at his arm, begging for him to let go - his hold on you a bit too strong that it worried you. Nonetheless, it was short lived as he made quick work to open the door, pushing you out. 

“I’m serious Y/n. Don’t talk to me anymore. Or anybody… I’m telling Renjun.” “No! No… Jisung please, you’re going to ruin everything when you don’t even know-", "I’m the one that ruined things? Just get out.” Your efforts were in vain as once again, the door was slammed on your face, leaving you in both shock and tears. 

That would be the last time you’d see him in a while.

a/n: haiiii... this is a context chapter sorry guys ik they can get boring... but dw i already have the next one finished so it will be updated soon. very soon. :3

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Living Dead

Summary: Before meeting the Emperor, Mortarion meets a girl who might love him. At least that's what he thinks.

Mortarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Dark romance, gore/rot (a little bit), obssession, yandere.

Guys, it's all your fault. I wasn't a Mortarion fan before your fics.

Every day Barbarus defended their freedom. People were no longer afraid. They fought for lives against rotten tyrants. And every day Mortarion was getting closer to his goal. He led all these people with him. But he never felt at home. Didn't find a family. But at least he was “among his own”, and not locked with monsters in a poisonous stronghold.

The poison was a weapon, but also a reminder of the monsters' strenght. He used his power, but he hated it. His whole appearance resembled death. No wonder people avoided him even if he is a reason why they finally fight back. And then he met you.

You lived in one of the distant villages, which was often attacked by tyrants. On one of these days, your spouse was taken away for a play. And although he was able to escape, as Сalas Typhon had once done, he was unable to cope with the top layer of Barbarus. His skin was healing, he smelled of death, and poison oozed from open, rotten wounds. Living Dead.

But you continued to live with him. You accepted him as such a disgusting thing. You loved him.

Mortarion still could not understand how this was possible. He saw how hard it was for you, how often you hid from his eyes to cry out all the tears. How do you stop yourself from gagging at the smell? But you were still with him. You could, no, should have, renounced him. Continue to live and move on.

Nobody understood you. All the villagers said you were crazy. Mortarion's warriors pitied you, but thought you were too naive. As for Сalas, he looked after you for a long time. He said that you remind him of someone and that you're a good girl.

It's true, you were kind. Even too much. And Mortarion himself did not understand how he felt envy of the living corpse. "Father" did not love Mortarion, he did not care about him. His warriors may have respected him, but they were never equals.

And one day he began to wonder more and more often… will you also stroke his hair… hug him tenderly… wash his wounds and help him bathe… will you smile at him as if he is the most beautiful person you have ever seen. Will you kiss him like you kissed your husband?

Such strange thoughts. Insignificant, unimportant, vulgar. Completely out of character for him. Why is it important for him to know what you think about him? What could you do with him? Does he really need to feel affection that badly? To feel not just needed, but loved. He leads thousands of lives. But why does his heart beat so hard when he sees your gaze?

Alas, you are not a witch. The problem is not you. There's something wrong with him. You don't even belong to him. And all your attention is focused on your dying husband. But he won’t even be able to protect you when the lords come to your village. But Mortarion can. He is your true savior.

But everything goes away sooner or later. All the villagers only breathed a sigh of relief when your husband left this world. But not you. You're desperate. You're broken. All alone. There is no one else to give your goods to.

Mortarion himself didn’t notice how he put his hand on your shoulder. And he is so ashamed but so happy to see your haunted tearful gaze. You looked at your husband in the same way before enveloped him in your love.

- No need for tears. I'll take care of you.

He will.

[spacequokka]

Nobody But You

Pairing: Crown Prince! BamBam x Reader Genre: Royalty AU, Fluff Rating: M (sorry children) Summary: You're paid to kill the young king and learn your contract wasn't exclusive. So naturally, you switch teams. Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: language (it's me after all), violence, blood, minor character deaths

A/N: Well, this one ran away from me. The urge to write for Assassin's Creed found me again but oops wrong fandom? I hope you enjoyed my little royalty au with Got7! <3

It isn't often that you go against a paid contract. You're good at what you do and it's easy money. Good money. So when you were approached for a high-profile kill, you anticipated all the ways you'd spend the money afterward. It was more than enough to take a vacation, maybe even retire and start life anew following your dreams.

Sure, it was at the expense of the newly crowned King, but it was a lot of money. And you happened to like money.

The night was crisp with a chill that quickly settled in your bones. Your breath lingered in the air as a cloud with each soft exhale. At three in the morning, the castle grounds were as still as death. Nothing moved and no one made a sound. You leaned against the cool stone wall of the castle, heart racing with excitement. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over everything, illuminating the path ahead. A week of recon suggested the job would be simple--slip in through the hidden entrance, go up to his chambers and quietly end his life. The guards on duty would likely be asleep, but you had tranquilizer darts just in case. Sneak back out and come morning you'd collect your paycheck after the body was discovered by his maids.

So then, why did you hear whispers and rustling noises ahead of you?

Peeking around the corner, you spotted a couple of figures creeping along the wall using the shrubs as cover. They were dressed in dark cloaks, not so quietly discussing their plans.

"That idiot has no idea what's coming," one sneered.

Exhibit A on why you needed to vet your employers before taking a contract. The desperate ones with money to throw away tended to hire one too many people for the job. You would think your reputation and immaculate record would be all the reassurance needed that the job would get done. But no. Being a woman seemed to wash away all of those accolades.

Unfortunately, besides being skilled and competent, you were also extremely petty. No one steals your contract or the cash associated with it. If anyone was killing the King, it would be you or no one at all.

You unsheathed your dagger, eyes set on a new prey. The night might be a bust, but you wouldn't go home without taking your anger out on those responsible. An unseen leaf gave away your approach seconds before you drove your blade up to the hilt through one of their backs.

"What the hell?" The other one looked on in horror for a solid second before thinking to draw his own weapon. He moved too slow. You shoved his dying friend forward and off your blade, striking quickly with a slash across his throat. The resulting blood splatter spiked your ire up another notch. You should've known better. Now you needed a bath, too. With a huff, you cleaned your blade off on one of their cloaks and went to sheath it when you heard a shout followed by the sounds of a fight.

Nope. Don't do it. Don't go in there and get involved. Go home, shower, get in bed and try again tomorrow.

Ugh, but what if he doesn't live to see tomorrow?

You stomped your foot and groaned, stepping over the bodies and through the hidden entrance.

Inside the castle was consumed in chaos. Royal guards and knights were engaged in battle with all sorts of mercenaries and assassins, most of which you knew personally. Just how many people were hired to kill the King?!

"Arrrgh!" Some poor, misguided guard saw you and took it upon himself to deal with you. He would've stood a chance had he not announced his intent with his little war cry, allowing you to dodge his sword and clip his feet. He lost his balance and fell into the wall beside you, knocking himself out in the process. Because of course, he would. Surely the King would have better, daresay smarter, fighters defending him, right?

Right?

You wanted to kick your own ass as you picked up the guard's sword. There'd be no sleeping tonight if you didn't make sure your target would make it through the night. It wouldn't be too hard to make it up to his room, check on him, then disappear amidst the chaos. Just a peek, that's it. Nothing more.

You headed for the corridor leading to his chambers and cursed when you saw another person in black tiptoeing through the dimly lit hall. Just what in the Julius Caesar hell was going on around here? The idiot didn't even notice you following him, too busy avoiding being seen by the guards rushing about in search of intruders. 'Amateurs.'

To top it off, there were no guards stationed by the king's bedroom door! You'd thought of Julius Ceasar as a joke earlier but the situation was closer to that than you'd imagined. The man hadn't been on the throne for more than a few days and already someone had gone through so much trouble to ensure it wouldn't be longer than that.

Just as the man reached the door, you made your move. "Not so fast," you hissed in his ear. He yelped as he turned to face you only to have your sword shoved into his chest. Flailing wildly, he fell back against the door with enough force to break the hinges, falling through the doorway.

The king and the assailant he was fighting off both stopped for a moment to look at you.

"Another one?!" BamBam shouted at the same you groaned.

"You've got to be kidding me. Did he hire everyone in the damned kingdom?" You yanked the sword out of the body as you stepped into the room. "I'm trying not to take this personally, but it's beginning to be insulting."

"Is that you, _____?" The attacker kicked BamBam away using his foot on his chest. "He's my kill. Get out of here."

You rolled your eyes. "Have you not seen the state of things outside? Everyone's here to kill him." You gave the King an apologetic smile. Grimace? "No offense, Your Majesty. Nothing personal."

"None taken, I suppose." When he tried to get to his feet, the man lunged at him again with his weapon poised to drive through BamBam's chest. You moved swiftly, tackling him and grabbing the dagger. Someone yelled out--it wasn't you--as the struggle resumed, this time with you driving your elbow into the man's ribs, weakening his hold.

The minute he realized you had the upper hand, he used his free hand to grab your throat and squeezed with all his might. Being the brute he was, his grip was incredible. The urge to let go of your weapons in favor of yanking on his hand was strong, but you knew it'd be the last thing you'd do if you did. Your grip on his dagger weakened as you became light-headed, air and time running out.

There was shuffling that sounded far away to your ears before a heavy book dropped down on the man's face making him jerk and let go of his weapon. It was the break you needed, as you turned the dagger in your hand and jabbed it through his ribs and up into his chest. He cried out with a wet cough, blood coating his lips as his hand left your throat. You drew in a deep breath, making your vision blur as you rolled off him, but not before driving your dagger into his heart.

"Holy shit!" There was what sounded like a stampede at the doorway before two men appeared at the King's side, helping him up to his feet and away from you and the dead assassin. "Your Majesty, are you hurt?"

"Nothing more than a few bruises, Eunwoo." He forced a laugh. "Thanks to her."

This was the opposite of being unseen. You groaned as you rolled over, blinking to force your vision to clear while breathing deeply. The quicker you pulled yourself together, the quicker you could escape before the guards tried to deal with you.

"No doubt she's here to collect on the bounty on your head as well. Take her to the dungeon--"

"No! Wait, Mingyu. She saved me!" BamBam pulled away from his knights. "She put herself in harm's way to keep him from killing me."

"Because she can't claim money for someone else's work." Mingyu looked at you, mouth set in a sneer. "She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart, Your Majesty."

Yeah, this wasn't looking good for you. Using the sturdy oak dresser as a crutch, you pulled yourself to your feet. "Don't mind me. I'm just gonna go home and hopefully sleep off this nightmare." You touched your throat delicately and tried to clear your throat. "I'll be on my way."

One of the knights cut off your path to the door, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Not so fast. You heard him. You're not going anywhere."

"For heaven's sake, will you two listen to me?" BamBam pushed his way over to you and stood between you three. "She saved my life! I owe her for that, no matter the reason she's here." He turned to you, eyes going to your throat. He reached for you and you flinched but when you didn't move to stop him, his fingers traced the marks left behind from the struggle. "Your beautiful skin..."

You shrugged and gave him a shy smile. "I've had worse. It'll heal."

His gaze flicked up to yours and he bit his lip. "Are you really here to kill me too?"

"Was. I don't like competition."

"Wait," Mingyu looked at you with an expression you couldn't decipher. "You took out more than just these two?" He pointed at the two dead bodies.

Your mouth opened and closed as you contemplated admitting to more crimes right there in the King's face. When you didn't answer, BamBam tapped your cheek to bring your attention back to him. "How much were you promised?"

"Um," you licked your lips and wished you had your weapon on you. That other knight looked jumpy. "One hundred thousand."

BamBam nodded as the curious look in his eyes morphed into something dangerous as the wheels in his head turned. "I'll triple that if you agree to be my bodyguard."

"Your Majesty!"

"That's insane!"

You gulped and he noticed seeing as his hands were still on your neck and cheek. Why hadn't he let go? Why was he still so close? "I don't think your men will let that fly."

"Your fate is not up to them. Clearly, I need more skilled fighters on my side if I'm to remain on the throne. And it wouldn't hurt to have such a deadly, beautiful woman at my side. So what do you say?"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To fall, to burn

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, October warm-up round.

Prompt: Halloween

Rated: T

CW: alcohol abuse, mind control

Tags: Vampire!Eddie; Steve and Nancy are unhappily married; sexual tension

Notes: This started out as an attempt at the @steddiemicrofic for October, but it sort of spiralled, so here we are. 🙃

His name is Eddie and he's always dressed as a vampire. 

He shows up on their first Halloween at the new house, looking elegant and suave in his waistcoat, dark hair in an old-fashioned braid down his back. Steve, immediately drawn in by his wit and easy charm, asks if he lives nearby, and Eddie chuckles. 

"Used to," he says. "Now I just visit occasionally."

They spend the better part of the night out on the porch, chatting away while the trick-and-treaters trickle by. 

"Newly married?" Eddie asks at some point, red eyes trained on his ring finger. They look so real. Steve wonders what contacts he uses. 

"Yeah," he nods. "Nancy isn't here, though. She's away for business a lot, just got promoted." 

"What?" Eddie smiles, bright and dimpled and with a hint of fangs. "Leaving a pretty thing like you all alone? Shame." 

Steve laughs, and if he notices how those eyes linger on the blush that creeps up his neck, that's nobody's business, right?

*

"What's got that lovely face all sad on this beautiful night?"

"Oh, hey!" Steve tears his eyes off the costumed children passing by as Eddie joins him on the porch steps. "Didn't see you all year."

"Of course not," Eddie winks. "I'm a creature of darkness." 

His costume is more modern today, all black leather and chains, hair spilling over his shoulders in messy curls. 

Steve chuckles, twists his wedding band. Frowns. 

"Trouble in paradise?" 

Steve huffs. "No. Yeah. I dunno, maybe." 

And then - and he has no idea why - he spills his heart to this complete stranger. How maybe they both rushed into this marriage. How they seem to be wanting different things from life. How he always thought they'd have kids, lots of them, while Nancy is so focused on her career. Maybe it's the way those ruby eyes never leave him as he speaks. They draw him in, drag all the things he keeps buried deep inside to the surface, until he feels raw and vulnerable and wide open. Seen. 

"She's a fool," Eddie hums. And Steve never noticed, but he has shifted closer. So close their shoulders are brushing. So close that Steve feels his breath on his skin, so close Eddie’s scent tickles his nostrils. Leather and musk and something earthy and wild. "You should have anything you desire." 

Steve laughs it off, but it feels wrong in his throat.

*

Steve's bottle of whisky is almost empty and the trick-and-treaters long gone when he looks up to see Eddie standing before him, jewelry glinting in the dying light of the Jack O'Lanterns. Those red eyes flick over the last of the cardboard boxes still stacked on the porch and Eddie’s face twitches. 

"She gone then?" 

Steve blinks sluggishly. Nods, sways, topples. Eddie is crouched in front of him in an instant, catches him before he can fall and cradles him to his chest. 

"It's okay, sweet thing, let it out." 

Steve is about to ask what he means, but then the sticky wetness on his face registers, and he flushes with humiliation. 

"Shit," he slurs, tries to stand. "Sorry." 

Eddie brings one strong hand to the back of his head and pulls him back in. His fingers card through Steve’s hair, a solid, firm weight.

"No need to apologize for a broken heart. I'm just sorry it had to come this far." 

He smiles, fangs gleaming in the low light, and something inside Steve's chest flutters. His head is dizzy, and Eddie’s eyes are so pretty, a swirling vortex of red that's sucking him in. He wants nothing more than to fall into them and burn. 

"Steve .. " Eddie is saying, and Steve must be so, so drunk, because he could swear his lips aren’t moving, and still that voice is clear as day in his head, in his bones. In his blood. "If you were mine … I'd never let anything hurt you." 

"Would …" Steve gulps. Eddie’s eyes watch the movement of his throat, pupils blown wide, watch his tongue as it darts out to wet too-dry lips. "Would you maybe … like to go inside?" 

"Aw, honey, finally!" Eddie’s eyes crinkle around the corners, and then he hoists Steve to his feet like a ragdoll, steers them both towards the door with one firm arm around his waist. His breath tickles the hollow of Steve's neck, and his fangs scrape his rabbiting pulse. "Thought you'd never ask." 

Part 2

[maul-of-shame]

You know you don't have to shove your disgusting elrondriel down people's throats right?

You know you don’t have to shove your whining and bitchy moaning into my inbox, right?

Like, was there a council meeting I missed where you were assigned as the fandom’s self-righteous taste police? Because if so, babe, I'm pretty sure the Fellowship didn’t vote you in.

I ship what I ship. You don’t like it? That’s a you problem, not a me problem. You could’ve scrolled, blocked, or gone outside to touch some grass, but instead, you chose pathetic bitchy whining in my inbox. Big brain move, truly.

The circus called, they want their clown back.🤡

And listen, I don’t know what your takes or ships are, but dude—DUDE—if you’re going to crumble into a puddle of salt over fictional characters and who people decide to pair them with in their own space, you might need to take a long, hard look at your priorities in life. Like, genuinely—are you okay?

Is this the hill you’ve chosen to die on? Out of all the injustices in the world, all the things you could be channeling your clearly overflowing energy into, you picked this? Really?

You’re here, furiously typing up your righteous little manifesto against my Elrondriel ship content, as if your dislike somehow validates barging into someone’s creative space like an uninvited party guest with terrible vibes. You know what would’ve been a better use of your time? Literally anything else. Picking up a book. Learning a hobby. Googling "how to mind my own business". Or—and this is just a suggestion—working on improving that personality of yours.

Because let’s be real, the way you’re carrying on here? It’s not giving "I have a valid point". It’s giving "I’m pressed because someone on the internet is having fun differently than me."

No one is forcing you to look at this content. No one dragged you into my space with a sword to your neck, shouting, "READ THE ELRONDRIEL POST!" You’re here because you chose to click, you chose to engage, and now you’re big mad because my fictional pairings don’t align with whatever pedestal you’ve put yourself on. Babe, that’s a you problem. The rest of us are here vibing, sipping tea, and enjoying our ships, while you’re out here acting like a one-person fandom inquisition.

So maybe the next time you feel the urge to go on a moral crusade over fandom ships, pause for a moment and ask yourself, "Does this make me look clever, or just pressed?" Because right now? You’re not Gandalf riding into battle with wisdom and gravitas. You’re Gollum, bitterly clutching onto your opinion as if it’s the One Ring, and nobody here is impressed.

If fictional pairings genuinely upset you this much, I’m begging you—step away from the keyboard, take a deep breath, and find something that sparks joy

Also, I’m truly not sure who appointed you the Mouth of Sauron for Fandom Canon Purity™ (if so, please go see your local dentist), but I don’t recall asking for your opinion, your sanctimonious tantrum, or whatever sad little hill you think you’re dying on?

You’re not Aragorn leading a noble charge. You’re that one orc who gets yeeted off Helm’s Deep for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So, take your whining, your unsolicited opinions, and that big ol’ chip on your shoulder, and go find somewhere else to be miserable.

Bye Felicia 👋✨

[luv444saturn]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 pt.2

(Continuation, link to my masterlist for other chapters!)

TW - Blood, brief mention of infection, guns.

Authors Note - part two, I feel like I'm having way too much fun writing this, thank you so much for reading :3

That single word, more importantly the characteristics of the voice that said it, had chills running down your spine. “You don't listen well, do you?” Again, that awful voice sounded from behind you. Despite how badly you wanted to tremble or turn around or plan your defense, you made sure you didn't take your eyes off of the scope. “Eyes over here.” Now that voice, you had never been so relieved to hear Spencer speak. His voice was sharp, pointedly spoken at the man.

There was another thing about him. While you claimed you hated him, loathed his intelligence and his ego, you could never say you didn't need him. In one way or another. You needed him to prove you wrong, knock you down a peg. You needed someone to challenge your intellect. You needed someone to funnel your annoyance onto. That someone just happened to do the same things to you in return. It was mutualism at its finest, the symbiotic relationship sometimes devolved into parasitism if you allowed it. 

But right now you needed him so you knew you weren't alone.

You heard another gun cock, the sound filling you with a sense of dread. “Reid,” his name was almost strained, almost dying on your lips, “don't do anything stupid.” 

The minuscule shift in your tone, the only sign of vulnerability that showed through your cracking exterior. That calmness you had carefully constructed that he so desperately yearned to have. He hadn't mastered that mask yet. That was enough of a change to have him glance in your direction. Soon enough, the words 'don't do anything stupid,’ rang in his ears like a hymn. 

He did something stupid.

That glance, that single second that he wasted had wavered his focus just enough to provide this mystery man with a slim opening. An opening that was wide enough for him to take advantage of.

A pained sound, akin to a hiss, escaped Spencer's lips. Soon that idiotic move that he had pulled seconds before, you repeated. A glance. A single glance back to the agent who was clutching his hand with a strained expression, staring at the source of the gruff voice from a moment ago. “He's got my gun.” Spencer said, letting out a huff. It took everything he had to focus on anything but the pain in his hand, where blood soaked onto his skin, dripping through his fingers and down onto the ground below his feet.

You went for the walkie-talkie at your hip, but as expected, the man—safe to consider another unsub—had other plans. “We can't have that,” he clicked his tongue, “hand it over.” He approached with Spencer's gun aimed at you, kicking away your rifle so you had no chance of turning the tables. He was leaving you destitute, stranded in a dangerous position with no hope of clawing yourself out of it.

You watched him crush the walkie-talkie under heavy, paint stained boots. Spencer watched life practically drain from your eyes, the hope you had dissolving instantaneously. 

Spencer had always paid the most attention to people's eyes. Unconsciously taking in every detail, knowing precisely what emotion they captured. Because nobody, despite how mastered they were in the art of putting up facades, could hide their feelings through their eyes. Lips and faces remain still, unmoving, but everything they wish to show was perfectly displayed through eyes. He had come to know yours quite well, and this moment was no exception. 

The man pulled out his phone. Unlike the mistake both of you had made, his grip wouldn't falter on the gun, and his eyes wouldn't stray from his targets.

You took a single step towards Spencer, staring down at his hand that was still actively bleeding, trembling. He looked pitiful, like one of those puppies in those commercials that always made you tear up, and it took everything in you not to speak. You didn't have any words that were bubbling up in your throat, nothing, utterly silent. Wordlessly, you took his hand, observing the wound. A knife? That would explain how the man had taken his gun, and the hiss of pain it elicited from Spencer's lips.

Your fingers made quick work of his tie, feeling his eyes on you, you could practically hear the satirical, witty retort he wanted to say. One that would undoubtedly make you roll your eyes. But both of you had an understanding that this wasn't the time. It wasn't the time to make light of a situation, to distract yourselves from what was happening. His tie acted as enough of a bandage to stop the bleeding for now.

“Improper bandages can make wounds gangrene, even though it is important in the healing process to allow airflow, proper compression and coverage is crucial to avoid infection and tissue death—” Spencer began, silencing himself when he knew that he would only worsen your emotional state.

“Keep going.” Was all you said, voice hoarse and dejected.

Nobody had ever said that to him before.

Let alone you.