#murder; puke; toilets…..

[justsomeguycore]

the song of summer is actually i’m bringing home a baby bumblebee, according to the four and five year olds i hang out with

[allurilove]

Yandere Ghost x you #2.

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: A continuation of very pretty and needy yandere ghost x gender neutral reader, not an established relationship— he's just delusional, one-sided pining, and he marks his territory.

Part one here !! ★ [tysm for 3k+ followers!]

Yandere ghost had slipped on a makeshift wedding ring onto your finger. He had spent days on it before hand. He made sure that it was perfect for his new beloved, and he created it out of the items he found around the house. He got the base of the ring pretty easily. In fact, he accidentally stepped onto it when he approached you in the kitchen. This invention that was bestowed onto him, apparently had been around for decades. It was called a "twist tie," and it was malleable enough for him to bend it into a circle. The ghost then found a gem stuck inside a welded trap, and after pulling it out with his teeth, and slamming it onto the counter a couple of times, the white diamond popped out. It was not too small or too big, but sparkly enough to look pretty underneath the lights. He didn't want to scare you away once you had noticed the jewelry— and the sudden stake of claim he had on you — so a white lie had to be told. To you, that ring meant a friendship between the living and the dead. To him, it meant that his soul would forever loyally be yours.

Yandere ghost appreciated the little moments of domestic bliss he had experienced with you. You came back home after a night out with your friends, and smelled like air freshener and puke. Your clothes were different from what he was used to seeing, oddly shiny, and skimpier. You snored a lot as well, your jaw lax as you heavily breathed in and out. The man next to you could see some sheen sweat on your neck, and he had an inkling that you had exerted yourself. Yandere ghosts tongue lolled out, worming its way over to your sticky skin. He tasted the salt after gently sucking, and left behind a lingering sensation. He liked to pretend that you two were honeymoon lovers-finally resting together on the bed after a lovely celebration of tying the knot. The ghost imagined that the smile on your face was because of your happy mood, and that once you had woken up from your slumber, you'll give him a big ol' kiss because that's what married couples do. You made him breakfast in the morning—even if he didn’t eat— because you didn’t want him to feel left out. After a wonderful meal, you graciously let him in the bathroom with you.

Yandere ghost had an excuse for almost everything— he was a bit of a guilt tripper. A reminder of his oh so tragic murder and the generation difference between you and him —he never understood your meme references— was enough for him to get a front row experience to you showering. Yandere ghost was lonely the moment you had previously tried to close the doors on him, but thanks to his pouty words, he can watch you rub the soap between the crevices of your intimates. The man looks at you lovingly. His body is hovering right above the closed toilet seat, his elbows resting on his knees, and his face would be in his hands. He listened to the songs you would hum, and you occasionally popped your head out of the curtain to check in on him. Yandere ghost was so pale that he nearly blended in with the steam if it wasn’t for his delicate yellow eyes.

Yandere ghost had you stuck in a trance with his titillating gaze. You couldn’t remember how he managed to slip into the shower with you, nor could you remember a rejection leaving past your lips. His slender finger caressed your warm skin, and gently tapped by your heart. “…your soul,” you heard the man whisper. The water made his silk robe stick to his body, the contours of his muscles on display. He then gestured to his still heart, looking down at you with lidded eyes, “Mine?” Yandere ghost formed his possessive nature into a softer, romantic question. Into a plead for your companionship, soul, mind and being. For a moment, you forgot you were fully nude. His eyes are locked to your face, taking in the sight of your blushed cheeks, and the gorgeous framing of your damp hair. The eye contact continued as his finger finds its way to your chest, caressing your beating heart before teasing your nipple.

“…pointy…” the man marveled to himself. His two fingers starting to pinch and slightly pull as he waits for your answer. Your soul. He wanted it. And he’s starting to think the trance wasn’t working. Though, he’s starting to think that you need more coaxing.

Maybe you needed a taste of him before fully committing for life. He slowly undoes his robe, letting it fall onto the floor with the rest of the forgotten items—like the soap you dropped. He then grabbed onto your hand, and placed it by his v-line. “…me…pointy…” yandere ghost hints at his growing cock. It’s pretty just like him, milky white with purple veins running down the shaft, and a light pink head glistening from the water.

You’re his soulmate, the only person til the end of times, who can see him like this. “…for you,” he offered himself to you, shifting his eyes down to your legs before subtly biting his lips.

“Please, love?”

Allure: It’s so cool to see my tumblr grow! I remember posting my first fic on a random whim and now here I am 😭 Thanks to all the people for sticking around and enjoying my yandere fics.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Can you do a one shot where y/n does the Estes method and it's revealed to her that she's pregnant like no one knows not even her and can it be for Sam please and thank you!!"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, pregnant reader, reader being touched and spoken to by spirits, talk of death, murder, etc., fluff with a dash of sexual innuendos, teasing, ya know until they get back to the hotel and it's unprotected shower sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, etc.

Word count: 7.6k | not edited

Today into tonight, you were investigating the Nancy Hall Mansion.

You were kind of excited about this because last night, before going to sleep, Sam talked you into doing your very first Estes session.

You can't lie, you were nervous, maybe a bit more than you honestly thought because as soon as you sat up, your stomach flipped and you headed towards the bathroom.

Sam rolls over, reaching for you, but lifts his head when he can't feel you under his arm, "Y/n?" He calls out, but you're too busy dry heaving over the toilet you can't answer him.

He gets up, making his way to the bathroom as he rubs his eyes, but quickly snaps awake when he sees you getting sick, "Shit, hey." He comes over, holding your hair back, "You're okay."

He rubs his hand soothingly up and down your back, "Little bit nervous, are we?" He laughs a slightly and you stand up, "I think so."

You clean up and walk back out to the bedroom where you lay on the bed, "We're you nervous your first time doing this?"

He sits next to you, rubbing your leg, "I mean, I don't think I puked, but yeah, I was nervous."

You lay a hand on your forehead, trying to see if you're warm or not, but you feel fine, honestly.

"Do you still want to go tonight?" Sam asks and you look at him, "Um, yeah." You smile and sit up, "I think it was just first morning jitters, I totally forgot about it until I woke up more."

"I'll be with you the whole time." Sam smiles and leans down to kiss you, and it was like you needed it without even knowing.

His kiss lit a fire inside of you and you pulled him towards you, indicating that you needed him. He smirks against your lips, "Mm.. I see what you're doing here."

"What am I doing Mr. Golbach?" You bite your lip, smiling up at him. He slips a hand between your legs and slips his fingers into the band of your sweatpants, "You know exactly what you're doing."

He leans down to kiss your neck as his hand works further into your pants, "And it's working." You close your eyes, letting out a quiet moan as his fingers circle your clit, "We have to be quick, babe. Because co-"

Colby knocks before opening the door, "Yo, yo, yo! Who's ready to talk to an old lady ghost today?"

Sam quickly pulls his hand from your sweats and moves off of you, "And he'll be there, too." Sam Sighs and laughs as he nods towards Colby.

"Awe. Is someone having scared feelings?" Colby asks in a baby voice tone as he walks over and plops down next to Sam.

You roll your eyes, "No way in hell, Brock. You actually just interu-."

"Lalala, I don't need to hear that." Colby shakes his head and you and Sam laugh.

You sit up and close your eyes as you feel dizzy, but you quickly shake it off, chalk it up to being you needing breakfast.

"I'm hungry. I'll go start cooking if you guys wanna pack the stuff up." You stand up and Sam grabs your hand, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles, "Sure thing, babe."

"Sure thing, babe." Colby repeats, mocking Sam, "Ugh, you guys are so cute, it makes me sick."

"Anytime, Colby." You give him a cheesy smile before walking downstairs. You did feel odd today. Something was off, you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Whatcha making, gorgeous?" Sam asks walking down the stairs and you give him a small smile, "The breakfast usual."

He sits down at the island and leans forward, "are you okay, y/n?"

You turn around from the stove and nod, "Yeah. I'm good. Why?"

He shrugs, "you just seem like you're coming down with something and if-" you lean over the counter, laying your hands on his, "I feel fine, Sam. I think I just need to eat some toast or something."

He squeezes your hands and nods, "Alright. If you say so."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The car ride was different, too. Usually you sit in the middle in the back, adding commentary here and there, but today you had to sit by the window or you felt car sick.

"Are you sure you feel up for this, babe?" Sam glances back at you, "You look kinda pale."

"Yeah, and you're not giving me shit, what's up with that?" Colby turns around and looks back at you from the passenger seat, "Are you feeling okay?"

You laugh slightly, "I might take a nap, I honestly just feel tired right now."

You roll your eyes, mocking Colby as he makes a smart comment about Sam keeping you up all night, "that is in fact not the case." You hold up your finger and laugh, "Now let me nap in peace."

You fold up Sam's hoodie that was thrown next to you and use it as a pillow rested up against the door.

You close your eyes, trying to nap but all you can hear is Sam and Colby talking quietly.

"Is she okay?" Colby whispers.

"I think so." Sam says, but he could tell there was something off about you too. He just didn't know what.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"What's up guys? It's Sam and Colby." Colby says they do their introductory clip, "Today we are here at the Nancy Hall Mansion."

You suddenly get a wave of nausea, repeating 'don't puke' over and over in your head as you close your eyes.

Sam notices instantly and is right by your side, "Are you okay?"

You look up at him, "Yeah, I just got kinda dizzy."

"Like from the house or?" Colby asks walking up and you nod, "Yeah, I felt a very strong presence since we've been out of the car."

"Nancy Hall is said to be a good, loving spirit, but there is one, her husband who was said to be more on the darker side of things." Sam looks between you and Colby as he rubs your back.

"Okay. I think I'm good now, but I am going to just sit here.." you point to a big rock and sit down, taking a deep breath.

"I'll be right over here, if you need me just yell." Sam kisses your head and goes back over to the camera where they continue filming until the owner arrives.

You watch as the car slowly comes to a stop and a younger looking man gets out, "Hello." He holds up his hand as he walks over to you guys, "I'm Stephan, my parents own the place."

You stand up, walking over to meet Sam and Colby as they walk up to introduce themselves.

"Y/n." You say with a smile and reach out to shake his hand.

"Are you guys ready for the tour?" He motions towards the mansion and you all nod, following him up to the door, "So you'll get activity in any room basically."

"Really?" Colby asks, "By anyone in particular?"

Stephan pushes the door open and shrugs, "I mean, I personally don't spend much time here because I'm honestly scared of places like this, but I was told to tell you that they may or may not get attached to you."

You and Colby both look at Sam and he presses his lips together and sighs through his nose, "That's.. great.. exactly what I came here for."

Stephan looks confused and Colby laughs pointing to Sam, "This dude has a new ghost up his ass each week."

"That I do." Sam sighs and looks down and Stephan laughs, "You would be the one. Alright so." He spins in a circle, "This is my, um, we'll just say there's many greats before grandmother, but this was her house."

"And she's a very kind and loving spirit right?" You ask looking over at Stephan. He nods, "Yeah, my grandma, yes. Grandpa, not so much."

"Could you tell us why that is? I tried doing research but there's absolutely nothing about her husband." Colby looks at Stephan and Stephan pauses for a moment.

"My, again, many greats, grandfather was the type of person to get what ever he wanted no matter what it took." Stephan walks over to a room and opens the door, "He killed many men in this room and never admitted to it until on his deathbed."

"Did your grandma know?" You cross your arms and he shakes his head, "Everyone thinks she died not knowing, but I think she really knew and just didn't want to be his next victim. So she turned a blind eye to it all."

You nod as your eyes scan over the wall and you stop on a picture of a pregnant lady, "Was that your grandmother?" You point and Stephan walks over, "No that would be her daughter, same name and all."

"They like to carry on the family name. I don't blame them." You walk as the guys keep talking, asking questions and such, and you stop at a mirror.

You squint, leaning to the side slowly so you can get a better glimpse of the woman, in a long flowy dress, standing at the end of the hall behind you.

"I think she's here." You turn slightly and stare at her as she watches you, "Nancy?"

The figure nods once and turns, disappearing behind the one open door.

"What was she doing?" Colby asks pointing the camera on you. You smile, "She was just watching us."

"She does that. She was always watching out for everyone." Stephan motions towards the staircase, "Well head upstairs now if you want."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Throughout the tour, you kept feeling dizzy or sick. Each time you felt that way, that's when Nancy would appear, almost like she's warding off the evil spirit that was once her husband.

"You okay?" Sam asks rubbing your arm.

You nod, "Yeah. I think she's trying to ward off her husband or something because every time I feel the tiniest bit dizzy, I see her appear and then I'm fine."

He lays his arm over your shoulder, "You got yourself two protectors tonight." He smirks and winks at you before walking back over to Colby and Stephan.

"So that is everything and I hate to cut it short but like I said, I hate being here." Stephan chuckles slightly as he looks around, "I have mad respect for you guys."

"Thank you." Sam and Colby say with smiles.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. If you need anything just give me a shout." Stephan waves as he walks to the door, pulling it shut behind him.

"Okay, so what should we do first?" You look between them and Sam sighs, "I think we should the old flashlight trick with the REM pod."

Colby nods, "Should we start down here? Work our way up?"

Sam nods and looks at you, "You alright with that?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with whatever." You smile, "we can wait to do the Estes method until later on tonight if you want."

A smirk grows on Sam's lips and he nods, "Alright."

As Colby goes out to grab some equipment, Sam grabs your arm and pull you away from the door, pinning you against the one wall, "There's just.. something about you lately.."

His lips brush over yours as his hand slides down to put pressure between your legs and you bite your lip, whispering, "Sam.. we can't.."

He bites his lips, eyes still on yours, "We can, if you really want to."

A smirk toys with your lips and just as you're about to answer, Colby walks in, stopping when he sees Sam back away from you.

You look over at him and he laughs, "Please.. for the love of god, tell me you weren't just about to do it when I was right out there."

"We weren't just about to do it when you were right out there." Sam shrugs and laughs, which causes Colby to laugh, then you.

"Okay. Okay. You can do that later. I want to find out if Nancy knew her husband was a killer or not." Colby swings his backpack over his shoulder and you follow him down the hallway.

"This is the living room area where it is said that a lot of Nancy's husband's victims were poisoned. He would bring them here, get them drunk then slip something into their drinks that would eventually kill them." Colby explains as Sam pans the camera to him.

"Do we know her husband's name?" You ask as you walk up, "I don't think Stephan told us."

Sam shakes his head, "I don't think he did either. But I think it's something like Greggory, Greg maybe?"

A knocking sound comes from behind you and you turn around quickly, "Shit."

"Was that a knock?" Sam points the camera and holds it there for a few moments, "Okay." He turns back to Colby and as he holds up the EMF, "We can figure it out with this contraption, right here. This will allow who ever is here to answer with yes or no."

"And we will also be using the Alice box to kind of give us a better understanding as to who we are talking to." Sam adds while he shows the camera the box in his hand, "I'll give that to y/n."

You take the box, switching it on the same time Colby turns on the EMF.

"Is Nancy's husband in the room with us right now?" Colby asks and it switches to red, "Is this Nancy?"

Switches to green.

"Are you looking out for us?" Sam asks and it lights up green again.

The Alice box goes off, "Safe."

You look up at them and smile slightly, "I love Nancy." They smile and the box in your hand goes off again, "Greggory."

"Is that your husband's name?" You ask and watch was the EMF lights up green, "You were right, Sam."

He smirks and nods, "Just that good." He pretends to pop his collar and you smile as you laugh.

"Nancy, did you know that your husband killed those people?" Colby chews on his nail with anticipation.

The EMF lights up green and you frown, "We're you scared he would kill you next?"

The Alice box goes off, "He did."

"Whoa. Whoa. Wait. Wait wait." Colby shakes his hands, "They never said that... it was always said that she died of old age."

"Well that's obviously a lie." Sam says and the Alice box lights up green, "Nancy, did Greggory killed you?"

The box in your hand goes off, "Poison."

"So he killed her just like everyone else." Sam shakes his head and hands Colby the camera, "Nancy, did he kill you because he knew that you knew about what he was doing?"

The box goes red, then switches to green, then back to red, then green before the lights go out.

"I think Greggory doesn't want her to answer that." You look up and jump when you feel something touch your side, "Something just .. touched me." You move over to Sam, his arm instantly going around you, "You're okay."

"What did it feel like?" Colby asks as he continues to look around, "Like a hard touch or soft bush?" You run to Sam and demonstrate, "It was like a hand just lightly laid on my side, like right.." you lay you hand on Sam's side, "Here."

You lift your shirt, "I don't have any marks or anything. Nothing hurts."

"Nancy did you touch, y/n?" Sam asks and the EMF goes off green, along with the Alice box, "Protect."

"Protect? Are you protecting y/n from Greggory?" Sam asks and the box immediately goes back to green, and the box goes off again, "Gravid."

"What does that mean?" Colby asks and Sam shrugs, "I don't.. I don't know."

"Can Greggory answer a question for us?" Colby sighs, "Greggory, if you're here, can you tell us why you killed those people?"

The EMF switches to green.

"Did you do it for their money?" Colby asks and the Alice box repeats, "Money."

"So he did it for the money?" Sam asks and the EMF goes to green, "I'd say so." He laughs slightly and looks down at you, "You doing okay?"

"I feel like I need to sit down." You whisper and look over your shoulder, "I just got dizzy again."

"Why don't we take a break. Step outside for a little bit." Colby says and you both agree. Just as you're about to switch the Alice box off, another word comes through, "Sam."

"What the fuck?" Colby comes over, showing the camera what it just said, "What the hell."

Sam switches the box off and turns, "Let's go outside."

You make your way through the hallway, heading towards the door when you hear heavy footsteps behind you.

You all whip around, looking at each other when there was nothing there. You look at Colby, "Was that you?"

He shakes his head, "Swear to god that wasn't me."

"Let's give Greggory time to settle, then we can go to another room." Sam rubs your back as you walk to the door, he goes to open it but it won't budge, "Um. What the fuck is happening."

"You have to push.." you try it? Pushing down the little part above the handle, "Okay.. that wasn't like this before."

"Here let me try." Colby hands the camera to you, and you record them trying to get out. All while they're doing that, you feel the presence of something move behind you.

You shallow, keeping the camera on them, trying to brush it off, and it was working until you feel like someone breathed on your cheek.

"Fuck." You wipe your cheek and lean to the side, moving over to Sam, "I swear something like breathed on my cheek, like I feel a puff of warm air or something."

Sam rubs his thumb over the cheek you said, "Okay. We need to open this- Nancy." He pauses, "Can you please help us with the door?"

After a few more tries, Colby finally gets the door open and Sam chuckles, "Thank you, Nancy."

"Thank you, Nancy." You and Colby repeat in unison as you walk out the door. You walk over to the rock you sat on before and sit down, elbows on your knees as you feel like you're out of breath.

"you good?" Colby asks as he walks up. Sam sits next to you, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head, "no I think I'm okay."

"We'll just sit here. If you're sick or anything, you're more vulnerable to Greggory and whoever else may be in there." Sam lays his arm over you and pulls you to him, "Nancy and Greggory sure seem to have it out for each other, still." He chuckles and Colby nods, "Oh yeah, did you see the way they were arguing over the EMF, crazy dude."

"That was nuts." Sam shakes his head, "I've never seen two spirits argue like that."

"Nancy is that bitch." You laugh, "she probably would have ended him if it wasn't for him doing it first."

"When we go back inside, I think we should try and talk to someone Greggory killed. See what they have to say." Colby suggests and Sam nods, "That's good idea."

You sigh, "Well, I'm ready so let's go back in."

You stand up and Sam takes your hand as he stands next to you, "No need to rush, we have all night, babe."

Something in you needed Sam right now, but with Colby standing right there, you didn't want to say anything, "Yeah.. yeah I know."

Sam's brow twitches, picking up the vibes you're giving him, "I see."

You lick your lips and smile, "So. Are we ready to-"

"In a minute." Sam says glancing over at Colby, "Colby walk away."

"But I-" Colby huffs and tries to fight it, "Where am I gunna go? I'm not going in there alone."

"You'll find somewhere." Sam grabs your hand and pulls you over to the car. Sam watches as Colby walks away, grumbling to himself, "We're here to do an investigation.."

You laugh and bite your lip as you look up at Sam. He looks down at you, "We can't do anything, but I promise, as soon as we get home.." he leans in, sliding his hands around to grip your ass, "You're mine."

"Why'd you tell Colby to walk away then?" You ask with a laugh. Sam shrugs, "To get on his nerves."

He looks up over the car, seeing Colby sit on the steps of the mansion, "Let's just give it another minute or two."

"You guys are awful." You shake your head and smile. Sam shrugs, "He knows I'll do anything for him. I just have to give him a hard time every once in a while. Keep things evened out."

You roll your eyes, laughing quietly as you turn to walk over to Colby, Sam following behind you.

"Are you done?" Colby stands up and Sam sighs, "For now."

Colby tries not to laugh, "You guys are ridiculous."

"But you looove us." You poke his arm and he nods, "Yeah, sadly I do." He laughs and motions to the door, "Ate we ready?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

2:30 a m

You were exhausted at this point. You felt like you just ran a marathon, or two, but you didn't want to quit.

You still had your Estes session to do.

"Alright guys." Sam says as he gets the camera rolling, "as you saw, we've had non stop activity since we came back in, like what.." he looks around at you and Colby.

"It's been at least a few hours now." Colby says nodding, "We've actually had to take quite a few breaks throughout the course of being here and it's not so much Nancy herself.. I don't even know how to explain it really."

"The fighting between her and Greggory." You say and Sam turns the camera to you, "The two have so much power over this house and it's just... a lot."

Right as you say that, it sounds like walking downstairs, "Listen." You hold your hand out and point to the door.

"Is someone coming up the stairs?" Sam whispers and looks at Colby. He shrugs, "It sounds like it."

"We just-" Sam gets cut off by the sound of something walking in the hall, "Fuck, dude."

It stops and you all let out the breath you were holding, "Let's just go into Nancy's room." You point and walk out of the one room and into her bedroom."

"We are now in the room that Nancy not only resided in, but also died in." Sam says panning the camera slowly around.

"I feel oddly safe in this room." Colby says with a laugh, "Like out of all the rooms and stuff, like walking up those steps, I was looking behind me and shit."

"No I know what you mean. As soon as we walked through the door, I felt ten times better." You look around, "Her husband must not be allowed in here."

"What makes you say that?" Sam looks over at you and you point, "I have a feeling, but there's absolutely no pictures of him in here. Like look.." you walk over, shining the flashlight on the pictures as they follow you, "There's pictures of her, but you can tell that someone was cut out of them and on this one, the man's face is scribbled out."

"What the hell." Sam whispers as he picks up a frame to show the camera. Colby walks around and snaps, "Hey guys, all of the people in this picture are scribbled out but her."

"That's so weird." Sam says as he moves the camera up, "Maybe there was mo-"

A loud thud coming from the hallway makes all of you turn to the door, footsteps following quickly.

You're all silent as you listen for anything else.

"That was definitely footsteps." Sam looks between you and Colby. You and Colby agree, "Uh huh."

"Okay, so we have our REM pod that y/n is placing on the ground between the door and the foot of the bed, with this, they'll be able to touch it, let us know they're here. So with that.." Sam looks over at Colby and he sighs, "Hello, I'm Colby. That's Sam and that's y/n. We are here to just ask some questions, specifically for Nancy, we mean no disrespect to you or anyone that wants to speak with us. You are more than welcome. Just come up and touch that little box on the ground, make the light go off."

A few seconds later, the red light flashes.

"Nancy Hall, if that's you can you make the light go off again." Sam glances over at you, seeing that your eyes are glued to the door way, "Y/n? You see something?"

As soon as Sam moves over the dark figure you see vanishes.

"There was something standing over there, diagonal from me. Just watching, but it was dark." You slowly look over at Sam and the light goes off.

You jump slightly, "Shit."

"Nancy? Was that you?" Colby asks looking between the pod and you and Sam, "Touch it again if it was, just so we know."

The red light flashes again and you kinda feel relieved, "Nancy, hi. My name is y/n. Would you like to speak with us?"

The red light flashes and you look at Sam, "I'm taking that as a yes." He smirks and nods, "So am I."

Colby pulls the headphones and spirit box from the backpack, along with the red blindfold, "Think it's too early?"

Sam shakes his head, looking over at you, "Your call."

"Let's do it." You reach out and take the blindfold from Colby, moving to sit on the center of Nancy's bed. You take a deep breath and look over at Sam who's setting the camera up to face you guys.

"Well bring you put if it gets too bad." Colby says switching on the box, loud static playing, "Whenever you're ready."

You look at Sam and he's smiles, turning to the camera, "I just want to say that this is her first time doing an Estes session." He turns back around and watches as you shake your head, tying the blindfold over your eyes.

You hold your hands out and Colby places the headphones in your hands, and you move them to lay on your ears.

You can't hear shit outside of the static, and you instantly start hearing words.

"Talking to you."

"Are we talking to Nancy?" Sam asks as his eyes stay on you.

"Yes, Nancy." You pause, "You're safe."

"Are we safe from your husband, Nancy?" Colby asks and you instantly reply to them.

"He can't hurt you."

"Did you know about-" Sam raises his eyebrows as you cut him off,

"Baby."

"Baby?" Colby questions, "Did you have a baby?"

"You're safe with me."

"We feel safe with you, Nancy." Sam assures, "was there a baby here?"

"Yes, right now."

"Right now?" Colby shakes his head, "I don't understand." Sam shrugs, "Maybe someone bad a baby here?"

"I promise."

"You promise what, Nancy?" Sam asks, his eyes staying focused on your still body, "Can you tell us?"

"You don't know.."

"What don't we know, Nancy? Do you think you can tell us?" Colby lays a hand on his lips, waiting for your response.

"Sam.. not Colby."

"Okay? What don't I know?" Sam chews on his lip, "Can you tell me?"

"Baby. You have.."

Colby looks at Sam, his eyes wide, "You don't think.. Sam.. is she-"

You cut Colby off, "Surprised. are we happy?"

Sam stands there in shock, "What the.. what the actual fuck." Colby looks from Sam and back to you, closing his eyes, "Nancy, are you trying to tell us that.." he pauses and takes a deep breath, "..y/n is pregnant with Sam's baby?"

"Yes.. I am. Exactly."

You feel tapping on your arms from both Sam and Colby and you push the headphones off, lifting the blindfold off your eyes.

You look between them and they both looked like they just seen something horrifying.

"What?" You look between them, getting anxious the longer they just stare at you, "What happened?"

Sam brushes hair from your face, "Um.. well.." he laughs nervously, "From what we gathered.." he runs a hand through his own hair and sighs, "Apparently you're pregnant."

Your mouth drops open, "What did you just say?"

Colby jumps in, explaining the questions they asked and what your answers were, "I started piecing it together, and finally I asked if Nancy was trying to tell us that you were pregnant and that's when you said, yes I am. Exactly."

You can feel your heart racing as you try to comprehend what Colby just explained, "I-I don't.. I don't.." you shake your head, eyes closed as you take a slow deep breath, "So I'm pregnant?"

"That's what Nancy thinks, apparently." Sam sits down next to you, "You know, you getting sick this morning.. I didn't even think about that."

You laugh, still in shock, "Oh god. I didn't.. what do we do?"

Colby sighs, "If you are.. we need to get you out of here because what I gathered is that Greggory doesn't like it."

Sam looks up at him and nods, "Yeah, yeah, you're right." He nods towards the camera, "You wanna grab that?"

Colby nods, "Yeah." He walks over grabbing the camera as you and Sam grab everything else, "Come on." Sam wraps an arm around your waist, leading you out of the room and down the steps.

As you're walking, something grabs your arm and pulls you back slightly, "You cannot touch me, we're leaving."

"You're fine." Sam whispers pulling you closer to him, "Almost there." You grab his sweatshirt and hang into it, thinking about all the times you felt sick or dizzy.

Being pregnant would make sense, you just didn't want to believe it, not until you peed on the stick.

Sam walks you to the car, putting the stuff in the trunk before turning to you, "you okay?" He looks over your face, "Did you know?"

You shake your head, "Honest to god Sam, no. That didn't even pop into my head, I just thought I was anxious about this."

He nods and pulls you in for a hug, "Well have to stop, get some tests. We need to know for sure."

"I'm going to shit my pants if you are." Colby says walking up, "That shit was fucking crazy." He puts his stuff into the trunk and shuts it.

"Let's go, we need to.." Sam sighs, obviously flustered over this whole situation. You take the keys from his pocket, handing them to Colby, "Come on." You walk him to the side of the car and he motions for you to get in.

You get in as Colby gets into the drivers seat and he looks back at you, "Do you feel any different now or?"

You sigh, "I don't even know what I'm feeling at the moment." He nods, "Fair enough." Sam opens the passenger door and gets it.

Colby and you both look at him as he stares at the dash silent.

"You good, brother?" Colby asks laying a hand on his shoulder and Sam nods, "I just don't.." he groans, "We just need to know for sure because i just don't-"

"We will. Okay, Sam?" You reach up, rubbing the back of his neck, "We'll find out."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You never thought you'd be at a gas station, in a different state, at four am, peeing on a stick in the bathroom to find out if a ghost was right about something.

You could have waited until you got back but you, Sam and even Colby needed to know tonight and not tomorrow or two days from now.

You cap the stick, shoving everything into your pockets before you walk back out to the car.

"Everything come out okay?" Colby turns as you get in and you nod, "Never thought I'd be doing this but here we are."

Sam turns around, "Yeah but how many people find out they're pregnant through a ghost?"

"Probably not many." You shake your head, taking a deep breath as you pull the stick from your pocket, "Should we let Colby look?"

Sam nods, "Yeah, please."

You hand the face down stick to Colby, "I wiped it off, don't worry." He laughs slightly and takes it from you, "No worries."

He looks between you and Sam, anxiety frozen on your faces, "Ready?"

You look at Sam and he takes your hand, "Yeah."

Colby flips it over and licks his lips.

"What, Colby? What does it say?" You ask as you and Sam lean forward. Colby turns the test away and takes a deep breath, "Call me uncle Colby."

He turns the test around and it's a very dark, visible positive.

"No fucking way." You whisper, "No.. fucking.. way."

Sam looks back at you, his jaw dropped, "Holy shit." He looks at Colby, "Holy shit." He takes the test, studying it, "No fucking way."

"In the words of Nancy, surprise. Are we happy?" Colby smirks slightly as he looks from you to Sam.

Sam leans over the seat, coming back to hug you, "Oh my god." He repeats over and over again, "Holy shit."

"Sam, hey. That can't be good for the baby. And I mean the actual baby, not y/n." Colby laughs and you laugh as Sam moves to sit next to you.

"How the hell.." Sam shakes his head and Colby sighs, "Well I can te-"

"Got that." You hold your hand up and smile as you shake your head, "What a crazy turn of events."

Sam lays a hand on your stomach, "I just don't.." he smiled and shakes his head, "Were not releasing this video until we're ready to announce it."

Colby nods, "Oh yeah I had the same idea. So if we're doing that..." he reaches over to the floor of the passenger's side and picks up the camera.

He turns it on and points it so it's on all of you, "So.. as you probably already know, Nancy, the loving spirit of the place we just left from, told us that y/n here.. is pregnant.." he can't help but smile, just like you and Sam, "We actually have the answer as to whether Nancy was right or not."

You look at Sam and Sam smiles, "We're having a baby!" Him and Colby both cheer, yell like they normally would to celebrate something, "Uncle Colby in the house!"

You laugh, "And to answer the question that Nancy asked, yes. We are very surprised, but also super happy."

"That we are. I think I was just in shock about hearing my name and baby in the same sentence, and I mean you seen y/n's reaction." Sam shakes his head smiling and then he sighs, "We just wanted to say sorry for lying about the lost footage, we actually did have it. Nothing got deleted.. we just wanted to wait until y/n and the baby were at a good spot in the pregnancy to announce it and we thought that holding onto this video was the perfect way to do so."

You look at Sam confused and he smirks, "I'm going to tweet that the footage mysteriously disappeared or something like that, I don't know."

"We'll figure it out, let's just head to the hotel and go from there." Colby sets the camera down and starts driving.

The whole way back to the hotel, Sam stayed next to you in the back, hand on your stomach as you guys talked about everything.

"If you guys have a boy, can his name be Colby?" Colby glances back at you and you laugh, "Your name is definitely going to be in it somewhere, Brock." You smile and he looked shocked that you said that.

"Wait.. really?" He asks and you and Sam both nod.

"Of course it's going to be, Colby. You've been there for me through everything." Sam reaches up and pats his shoulder.

Colby clears his throat, "I'm going to need you guys to get out of the car so you don't see me crying."

You laugh, "Aww, Colby." You reach up and squeeze his shoulder, "Don't act so surprised."

Colby laughs slightly, "I just.. I kinda knew that was going to happen but just the confirmation of it, you know?"

"I know, but I couldn't not do that." Sam chuckles, "You know that."

Colby nods and pulls into the hotel parking lot, "yeah yeah." He puts the car in park and gets out, knocking on the window for you guys to get out.

Sam gets out, walking around to open your door before Colby engulfs him in a hug. You take your phone out, recording them having their little celebration, smiling as they do a little dancey dance.

Colby points to you, "You're not getting off that easy, come here." You walk over and he hugs you, "Congratulations."

You smile, "Thanks uncle Colby."

He laughs, "You guys are going to be the best parents ever."

Sam walks up and it's now a group hug, "You know, I don't think there's any better way for us to find out, like we found out doing what we do."

"It was just perfect. Shocking, yes. But perfect for us." You rest your head on Sam's shoulder, "I can't wait to go to bed though. I'm so tired."

"Alright let's take this party inside." Sam rubs your back as you walk into the hotel, making your way up to your room.

"I'm going to post a snap, making it seem like tonight wasn't a good night." Colby says as he plops down on his bed.

You interlock your hand with Sam, pulling him to the bathroom, "I'm going to go shower."

"Mhm." Colby laughs and you hear him start talking to his phone, "So.. guys.. bad news.."

As soon as you shut the bathroom door, Sam is on you, "I knew there was something off about you." His lips move to yours and you moan against him.

"I've needed you all night." You whimper as you take off your sweatshirt and shirt in one swoop, "You have no idea."

"Think i needed you just as bad." He works to undo your jeans, and you push them down as he works on getting undressed himself.

He walks over turning the water on before coming back to you, "You just got so much more prettier." He bites his lip as his hand slides slowly over your stomach, "So much sexier."

You lay your hand on his, "We're going to have a baby."

He smiles and nods, "we sure are." He wraps an arm around you, "You're going to look so good with a baby bump. Shit, I can picture it already."

He pulls you into the shower with him, kissing you as the water washes over both of you.

"Sam.." you whimper quietly, "Please."

He lens down to slide his hands to the back of your thighs, "You know I'm going to be extra protective of you now."

"It'll be much hotter than it was before." You run your hand over his wet hair, moving it from his forehead.

He smirks, closing his eyes to your touch, "hmm."

He holds you up, your back pressed against the wall as he slides his hand between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit.

You gasp, closing your eyes as you rest your head against the wall, "Sam." You moan out quietly, "Please."

You feel his two fingers slide down, dipping inside of you as he curls them, watching your face twist as finally receiving some type of pleasure after waiting all day and night.

"Shit, daddy." You whimper and look at him, a smirk toying with your lips. His eyebrows raise and his head tilts slightly, "mhm. That's right."

You smile and he replaces his fingers with his cock, causing your eyes to roll back as you moan. Your back lifts from the wall and your nails dig into his shoulders, "F-fuck."

"You like that? Hmm. Is this what you wanted all day?" Sam's voice is quiet and he groans as he starts to thrust, "Fuck."

"You tighten your legs around him, moaning as he builds up to a pace that's absolutely perfect, "M'so close, daddy."

He leans in, kissing up your chest and neck, "Cum for me, mama."

His words, the tone of voice, and especially your hormones out of all sorts of wack right now sends you into overdrive.

You clench around him, filling the bathroom with moans as you let go around him, your orgasm ransacking your body until every inch or your body was feeling fuzzy.

"F-fuck." You whimper as he fucks you through your high, "Yes, yes yes."

Sam plants one hand on the wall, crashing his lips onto yours as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You lay your hands on his cheeks, gently pressing kisses to his cheeks as he slowly pulls out with a low groan.

He sets you down, helping you regain your balance and he pulls you in, "I'm so excited."

You nod, "Me too, Sam." You sigh, "I'm honestly glad it worked out this way and the fact that we have it on recording is even better."

He nods, "No one would believe us if we didn't."

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, no you're right. Speaking of, I kinda wanna go back and watch it." He smiles and nods, "You finish in here, I'll go get everything set up."

He gives you a kiss, cupping your cheeks as he leans back, "I love you."

You smile, "We love you."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Here's a little bonus :) enjoy!

Five months later.

"Are you going to upload it today?" Colby asks walking into the living room, "I mean, you can't hide it much longer, right?"

You shrug and look down at Sam's hand on your bump, "I mean, not really. He's growing like a weed." You laugh slightly and Colby's eyes go wide, "I'm.. sorry.. did you just.." he looks between you and Sam, "He?"

You laugh and cover your mouth, "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I thought you told him already." You look over at Sam, "No I wanted to tell him in person, but it worked out." He looks over at Colby, "you wanna know the name?"

Colby moves to sit down in front of you guys and nods, "Um yes please."

Sam moves the laptop off of his lap and sits up, "I think we're going to go with, Cole John Golbach."

You can see the tears welling up in Colby's eyes, you've never seen that man cry before.

"Colby?" You lean forward and tap his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

He nods, "Mhm." You can tell he's trying not to cry and if he speaks, the flood gates will open, "Yeah I just.." he stands up, covering his face and you hear him sniffle, "Thank you." He turns and you and Sam both get up and hug him.

You start crying because that's what pregnancy does to you.

"We love you, Colby." Sam pats Colby's chest and sniffles, "Alright. So are we ready to post this?"

You all move to the couch, on either side of Sam and watch as he works on posting the final video.

You bite your lip, watching as the video uploads and Sam pulls out his phone, going on twitter

@/samgolbach: new video coming here in a few minutes and let me tell you.. It's a must watch.

You tap him and point when it's uploaded and thousands of people flood the likes and comments.

@/fanuser: Wait... I thought this footage was lost or got deleted? What is going on!?

@/fanuser1: STOP IT why did they wait until now to post this? There's something happening..

"I can't wait until they get to the end." Colby chuckles, "They're going to lose their minds."

Sam nods, laying his hand on your bump, "I just wanted to make sure they were good before any type of announcement."

You told your close friends, but that's about it. You made sure that they promised to keep it under lock and key until the time came.

"Oh, and Colby." You lean forward to look at him and he looks up at you, "Yeah?"

"No one but us three knows the name of this baby." You smile and he starts to get choked up again, "O-okay." He laughs and shakes his head, "Damn it, dude."

You pick up your phone, sighing as you see a bunch of notifications, "They know." You laugh slightly, "I guess it's time now, I can post one of our bump pics, letting them know how far along we are."

You scroll through your pictures, finding the perfect one.

INSTAGRAM

@/yourusername: Guess the cats out of the bag, we will be welcoming a beautiful baby boy to the Golbach family in about four months or so. Shoutout to Nancy at the mansion for the news. @/samgolbach

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Hope you liked this!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 21

PREVIOUS

“What made you think taking on a mafia hitman was a good idea?” Andrew asks as he and FF were positioning themselves the best the could for an ambush on Romero.

Since, they APPARENTLY had time to talk.

Romero had gotten the text Andrew had sent him and INSTEAD of coming out right away to progress the whole SCHEME to kidnap and murder Andrew’s Junkie like any sensible goon Romero went to the BAR. Romero went to the Bar to get him and Jackson a round of CELEBRATORY drinks. Romero is still there at the bar waiting to be served by an INCREDIBLY nervous Roland if the number of exclamation marks and puking emojis is to be believed.

What the FUCK is there to celebrate?

These two idiots want to kidnap NEIL and so far the only thing Romero knows (thinks) that they’ve caught are two people that Neil would come for but even in Andrew’s text he’d been clear that he needed help getting ‘The boyfriend and the new friend’ to talk let alone getting them to call ‘The Wesninski Brat’ out. Andrew had hated typing the name in reference to Neil but it was the only thing the two ever referred to him as in their chats.

Is it some insane mental game that Romero thought he and Jackson were going to play on Andrew and Smith? Toasting to their torture so they’d give up Neil? Who knows.

He realizes that FF hasn’t answered him, his eyes focused on the door when Andrew’s thoughts had drifted. A reliable guy, steady in a pinch, and focused like most the others weren’t.

(Andrew does not know that FF is thinking about how one would go about becoming a Mafia Hitman. What is that career path like? Do they show up at job fairs? Do you get a job as a short order cook at a business that acts as a front and see to much but you’re also the only one that knows the secret spaghetti recipe the boss likes so you have to sign yourself to the family? Are you out doing your own freelance crime and someone higher up sees your work one day and literally head hunts you? Is it like in Saw where you survive an ordeal and then-)

“Smith?” Andrew draws FF’s attention away from the door.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea at any point.” FF says and Andrew is surprised by the admission and is more surprised by the twist of FF’s lips into a frown, “I just did what I thought I needed to do.” He adds.

(Andrew does not know that the twist of FF’s lips has more to do with the fact that he is realizing that Romero likely STILL has not washed his hands. Romero hasn’t washed his hands and he is going to hand Jackson a DRINK with those hands. Ugh. Honestly a contract killer AND someone who doesn’t wash his hands? Who RAISED him? What does his grandma think of this? FF hopes she’s disappointed in him.)

“You thought you needed to lure a hitman into an alley?” Andrew asks because the plan is stupid even if so far it has worked out for FF. The fact that Romero hadn’t just come out when he sent Jackson the signal is only due to FF’s good luck and their stupidity.

“I didn’t have a lot of time to think up anything more than the first plan I thought of. I saw him looking at Nicky on the dance floor.” FF says with another twist of his lips as he self-consciously rubbed at his cheek. It’s never fun to have someone who has time to pick apart a plan that you barely had time to form. Andrew can understand the irritation and is glad that FF isn’t lashing out at him for it.

(Andrew does not know that FF is not irritated he is just remembering that he had held up his broken toilet bowl phone to his face to pretend call Captain Neil. He’s contemplating asking if Andrew maybe possibly has a wet wipe? Actually the murder van probably has bleach to clean up evidence, maybe he can just dip his face in there for like a minute.)

“Don’t use a plan where you martyr yourself. I already have to deal with Neil’s bullshit tendencies.” Andrew says instead of thanking him. “You should have just called me.” He says.

FF just holds up his phone, “Dropped into a club toilet. Completely unusable.” He says and yeah that makes sense. FF would have probably just texted Andrew but coming out and seeing a hitman going after Nicky probably made it impossible for the freshman to go get help without drawing all the attention to himself first if he wanted to make sure Nicky stayed safe.

Still.

“You dropped it into a toilet? You haven’t even had anything tonight.” He says because that clumsiness is not something he expects from FF.

“You try taking a pee next to someone on the FBI’s most wanted list and see how dry your palms remain when he’s talking about grabbing one of Captain Neil’s friends to lure him out.” He says with a brow raised.

That’s fair.

He figures that Romero hadn’t even noticed FF standing there. FF was incredibly good at just making himself unnoticeable (to Andrew’s occasional great annoyance and to Kevin’s great desire to study him for Exy related purposes).

“You recognized him?” He asks.

FF’s gaze slides to him, “I looked up a lot about the Foxes after I signed.” FF answers before his gaze slides back to the door. Roland had just texted Andrew that he’s getting Romero’s drinks ready (Two bud lites. Those are the celebratory drinks he waited for?? Embarrassing.) “I really looked up to Captain Neil. So, I read a lot more about him than anyone else.” FF admits but the fact that FF looked up to Neil was not in any way shape or form a secret.

FF was the only one who was ALWAYS paying attention to whatever Neil was saying and never argued with it. Even Andrew tended to just get lost in the sound of Neil’s voice when he’s going over Exy plays and not actually listen to the plan. FF’s eyes were always right on Neil and his actions on the court showed that he had been paying attention and knew what he was doing. Kevin also listened but he tended to fight Neil on the finer details of plays, strategy or anything else. FF was the one who would just nod and do his part in whatever possible play Neil had broken down for them.

FF was also categorically incapable of referring to Neil as anything other than Captain Neil.

Neil had bristled early on at it. He had thought it was a mocking title, something FF was saying to rile him up because that’s what Freshman Foxes did. That’s what Freshman Foxes always do. FF slid into the team without a whisper of rebellion and it hadn’t taken long to realize that FF was using the title with sincerity even if his monotone did not perfectly convey that.

It’d been that sincerity and that ease that had FF be the only option he’d considered when Bee said he should consider expanding his friend pool.

So if FF looked a little deeper into Neil’s past and sees Neil’s part in it as something to respect, something to admire?

Well, he personally thought he always had great taste in people. (He ignores the voice in his head that sounds like Nicky complaining about Kevin still not knowing German despite it being the family language.)

“You sure you don’t want one of my knives or the knife Jackson had?” It was pretty big and Andrew didn’t think it would work well with his general style but maybe FF could use it somehow. He was uneasy that FF was going into this fight unarmed. FF still hadn’t talked about how he’d taken out Jackson when the man had a knife like that.

“Do I look like Crocodile Dundee to you?” FF asks with a raised eyebrow and Andrew has to pause a moment for the movie to load into his brain before he offers an amused quirk of his own lips.

FF is a funny guy.

His phone dings. “He’s on his way.”

***

Aside from thinking about how nice the conversation he was having with his friend Andrew (his friend! His friend Andrew! God how is he going to admit to Gran that Andrew was never planning on stabbing him? She threatened to come over and square off with the ‘mean young man’ bullying him. He’s gotta go grab the makings for a secondary pie to even start to make up for this. Maybe Andrew would prefer a cobbler? He should ask his friend his preferences.) he was thinking about how he really wished they hadn’t had a cut away from Gracie Hart showing all the various forms of self defense she knows in the movie.

He had no idea if he could do a repeat performance of S.I.N.G. with Romero.

It’d be nice to have a few more things in his repertoire because all he has is striking Romero with the heel of his hand in the nose, getting grabbed from behind to throw him over his shoulder (which what if Romero is shorter than him? How will THAT work. Gracie Hart guide my steps!), and of course S.I.N.G.

If he survives this he might write a letter to the writer.

The door opens and honestly FF and Andrew agreed that surprise and speed were going to be their best weapons. The two of them go in for a full body tackle but Romero must just be a higher class goon than Jackson was since he manages to body them away. The door shuts which is mostly what they wanted anyways. Romero can’t go back in and grab someone to use as a shield.

He sees Andrew pull out his knives and now FF realizes that any level of threatening Andrew had done before must have mostly been in jest or just as intimidation. When Andrew wants to stab someone it’s obvious that he’s aiming to stab them.

Romero manages to parry Andrew’s first stab with a move that FF had seen on the ‘how to handle someone coming at you with a knife’ videos. FF sees Romero go in to bash one of the Bud Lite bottles over Andrew’s head so he launches his water bottle at Romero’s hand. The bottle falls and shatters harmlessly on the ground.

He kicks Romero’s other hand since the water bottle bought him time to get close. “You fucking brat!” Romero hisses.

He sees Romero reaching for something at the same time Andrew is going in for the second round of stabbing. Romero dodges out of the way but FF can see what might actually for real be an entire gun concealed in his jacket.

He can see Romero going for it. Sees the same smile on his face he’d seen inside as his hand wraps around the handle.

FF doesn’t think.

FF doesn’t think because if he does he’ll freeze.

So FF acts.

“Gun!” He yells and runs full force tackling Romero as hard as he can but unfortunately he tackles Romero into Andrew.

The three of them grapple on the ground. It’s hard to keep track of what limb is who’s and he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally hit Andrew a few times instead of Romero but he’s also pretty sure that Andrew punched him in the stomach so he thinks they’re equal. Finally FF gets a hand on the gun that Romero had been trying to get the safety off of and he knocks it out of Romero’s hand. “You kids will-“

Romero doesn’t get to say anything else because Andrew manages to land a punch right to his jaw that has Romero go limp under the two of them. They look at one another and Andrew manages to pull the handcuffs they’d purloined out of the Van while they were waiting off of the belt loop they were hooked onto and gets them around Romero’s wrists.

They stare down at the second unconscious man on the FBI’s most wanted list in the alley.

Then they roll off of him and onto their backs. Both of them wheezing from a combination of exertion, adrenaline, and (at least in FF’s case) a fair amount of pain (Christ Andrew packs a PUNCH his stomach is already sensitive. It’s a miracle that punch hadn’t made him puke.)

“That was…so stupid.” Andrew pants.

“Yeah probably.” FF admits.

They lay there for about a minute and FF thinks that maybe someone will need to carry him because his stomach is KILLING HIM with all this.

“Alright let’s-“

Andrew is sitting up and looking at him when he stops talking.

FF doesn’t really know what the issue is but starts to sit up, “Don’t you DARE.” Andrew hisses and FF finds himself being pushed back down to the ground to lay flat. “Don’t move Smith.” He demands and is pulling his phone out of his pocket as he keeps a hand on FF’s shoulder.

FF doesn’t really understand what’s got Andrew so upset all the sudden. “Andrew, what’s-“ he tries to sit up again. Is there a third person and Andrew wants him to keep down? There’s not really cover here they should move towards the dumpster maybe?

“Smith, I told you to not move.” Andrew hisses before whoever he’s calling seems to pick up. “I need police and an ambulance. We’re at Eden’s Twilight in the back alley.” He looks to FF, “What’s your blood type?” He asks.

FF has NO idea.

“I don’t know.” He answers and Andrew makes a disgusted sound. “Andrew, what’s-“

Then he sees it.

He doesn’t quite get how he missed it before now.

“Huh.” He hears himself say.

That’s Andrew’s knife handle sticking out of his stomach.

It appears that Andrew Minyard may have stabbed him in the stomach.

“Well, that’s about what I expected.” He says and lets his head rest against the pavement.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

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[makethatelevenrings]

Angel by the Wing - THIRTY-THREE

chapter warnings: vomiting, morning sickness

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

It was an average morning.

Rock music floated through the house coupled with the sounds of pots and pans banging around and you were bent over a toilet, breathing deeply through your nose and out through your mouth as nausea wracked your body.

“That’s good. Nice deep breaths.” Jake had popped his head into the bathroom to ask how many eggs you wanted when he found you bent over the sink with your hands clutching the sides of the counter. At first he thought you were in pain, but then the murderous glare you shot him when he asked if you were okay answered that question.

Now your hair was pulled away from your face, a cool washcloth pressed against the back of your neck, and a soothing hand ran along the length of your spine as you dry heaved over the rippling water.

“I fucking hate this,” you bit out. Tears pricked the backs of your eyes and you tilted your face to press against your forearm so he wouldn’t see you tearing up. Jake adjusted the washcloth so it wouldn’t fall off and scooted closer to you.

“I’m sorry, angel. I wish I could fix this for you.” If there was one thing Jake had learned since entering this relationship, it’s that he couldn’t stand to see you or Bradley like this. He hated being helpless. He was a fixer. He wanted to soothe your aches and remove anything that made you feel gross.

But he had also helped put you in this situation.

“Hey, hey,” he shushed you as you let out a pathetic whine. “Rooster is making some ginger tea right now and then we’re going to move to the couch. Set you up with some toast and applesauce and a bucket.”

“What if I puke on you?” you moaned dramatically.

“Darlin’, you’ve seen me and Rooster violently hungover. A little throw up won’t faze me.” You nodded in agreement with his statement and he took that as a good sign. Jake tentatively scooped you up and cradled you to his chest. Despite feeling sick as hell, you savored the feel of his warm skin under your cheek and pondered the possibility of them going shirtless every morning.

“How’s the patient doing, doctor?” Bradley asked when you emerged from the bedroom.

“‘M not playing sexy nurse right now,” you mumbled. Bradley chuckled and moved to help move some blankets over on the couch while Jake lowered you down onto the soft cushions. Jake hurried off to grab a bucket to place next to the couch while Bradley tucked one of the blankets around you and adjusted the washcloth to keep you cool. Skipper poked his head up over the back of the couch and then crawled over the pillows before he gently landed on the space between you and the cushion. The little cat curled up next to your stomach and laid his head on his paws, lazily flicking his tail while staring at Bradley in what some might call a threat.

“I’m trying to help her, dude,” Bradley muttered. The cat merely flicked his tail once more and extended a paw to lick at his fur.

And maybe show off his claws.

“Bucket,” Jake announced. “Plus tea and toast and whatever you want to watch on television. Please, please, don’t let it be Titanic.”

“Fuck you, it’s a masterful film.” But despite your protest, you settled on another classic. The boys knew better than to argue when the opening titles of Mamma Mia began. Jake instead settled in next to the bucket on the floor with his plate heaped with breakfast balancing on his knees. Bradley took up the rest of the couch by your feet. You nibbled on the toast that Jake handed you and absentmindedly pet Skipper with your other hand.

“Any plans for today?” Bradley asked once he was done destroying his mountain of food. Feeding two aviators was like turning on a garbage disposal and letting it run. You nudged his thigh with your foot and he put his plate on the coffee table so he could rub your feet.

“I was going to do laundry but I think I’m just going to rot instead,” you said. “I work at five so hopefully I feel human by then.”

“I got it,” Jake assured you. “I was going to mow the lawn and weed the garden but I can also make Roo do it too.”

“I’ll do it shirtless and everything,” your boyfriend said. He wiggled his brows salaciously and you pretended to gag.

“Thank you.” You ran your fingers through Jake’s fluffy hair. You loved it without the gel he typically wore. It stuck out in all directions thanks to the fact that he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed and you appreciated how it made him look so soft.

“Our baby,” the boys intoned. They had taken to answering your thanks with a reminder that you were growing a baby inside of you. A baby that they had been very enthusiastic participants in creating.

Bradley grabbed Jake’s plate and his own and headed towards the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. You were transfixed with the movie on screen as the bachelorette night came on. Something sparkled in your gaze and Jake felt such a surge of want that it could have knocked him off his feet. Instead, he headed towards the bedroom where three overflowing hampers of laundry cluttered up the closet.

Dumping the clothes into one large pile, he set about sorting them into different piles so he didn’t end up with pink shirts from one of your stray red socks. He also made sure to check every pocket of pants and jackets thanks to the infamous “washing Bradley’s keys” incident. He found quite a few different packs of mint gum and ginger chews in your pockets and created a little pile for the future.

He picked up your jean shorts from a few days ago and heard the crinkle of paper. He tugged it out and flipped the paper. It was an envelope and he knew he should just place it on the dresser and let you deal with it but the hospital’s address was written in the corner. He shouldn’t read it. He knows better. But you had been avoiding talking to him and Bradley about something. They both could tell.

His fingers were extracting the letter before he could stop himself.

He unfolded the paper and found a bunch of letters filling the page. Jake didn’t understand a single word written except for two things.

Alleged Father: Seresin, Jacob

Probability of Paternity: 0%

Bile rose in his throat and burned along his tongue but he pushed it down. There was another paper behind it and he extracted the second page with numb fingers.

Alleged Father: Bradshaw, Bradley

Probability of Paternity: 99.99998%

Did Rooster know? Was that why he asked about leaving this place? Was that what you two whispered about? Was that why you shared smiles over Jake’s head, like he was outside of a joke?

What happens if the baby isn’t his? What happens if the baby isn’t his and you two decide you don’t need him? That you don’t want him? Can he handle that? Can he handle this dream being shattered?

His mom was just trying to help. Jennifer saw the possibility when he couldn’t. He was so fucking stupid.

Jake tossed the papers onto the dresser and headed into the closet to grab his duffle bag. He needed space. He needed time. He needed to figure things out.

You couldn’t push him out of your life if he walked out first.

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[zmediaoutlet]

“I’m starving. You think they’ll let me sell your ass for a Slim Jim?”

“You made that joke last time we were arrested.”

“What, you think a good bit is only good once? I get no respect, no respect.” The last part not much of an impression because Sam presses harder on the bullet wound with the wad of toilet paper and Dean’s voice goes thin and crackly. A clean-ish hole, in through the meaty part of his shoulder and out by his armpit. Could’ve got his heart or a lung but it doesn’t even feel like it cracked the collarbone. Apparently demons are terrible shots. Lucky, Dean had said, swallowing hard and making his voice harder after. Sam didn’t dignify it with a response.

Dean’s trying to get blood off his hand with more TP. It’s thin, awful stuff, shreds against the tacky stain. The chain between the bracelets clinking. “In those Norwegian prisons I bet they get wet wipes, huh?” he says. Sam takes a deep breath through his nose. “Pampered, or whatever. Could go for some pampering.”

“I’m not killing you,” Sam says, “does that count,” and Dean laughs breathy and weird. It must really hurt. He’d be throwing Sam off already, otherwise.

They dragged the body of Henriksen’s old boss out into the main part of the jail. There’s been shouting. A boom that shook the building but no one has told them what it was, exactly. They aren’t currently top priority, despite being such world-class criminals. A break but not much of one, with Dean still bleeding over Sam’s hands. With what’s coming.

“Demons, huh,” Dean says. On the same train of thought when blood’s on the line, as always. He shifts on the shitty jailhouse mattress, gets his bootheels square on the ground. Sam shifts along with him, keeping the slack easy between their manacled ankles. “Better or worse than cops?”

Henriksen’s vicious little grin, telling them they’d never see each other again. Not quite yellow eyes but Sam’s stomach flips. Dean’s fingers slide over his, in the enveloping shadow of Dean’s jacket. Sam’s let his grip go slack.

“Can’t exorcise a cop,” Dean says, answering his own question because Sam feels like he’s going to puke. Taking point, as always. “Gotta be a point in the demons’ favor.”

“How are we gonna get him to believe us,” Sam says.

It’s all he can think. There are demons and there’s this asshole, do-gooder cop, who thinks he’s saving the day from monsters when he doesn’t know what monsters really are. If they had iron and salt and silver and a chance they might make it out. Maybe. Not like this.

“He thinks we’re psycho graverobbing murdering cannibals, Sammy, I’m not sure we’re in the circle of trust,” Dean says. He jostles his shoulder against Sam’s chest, even though that must hurt. “But hey, at least he didn’t guess about—”

“Jesus,” Sam says. Dean grins white in the emergency lights. No, Henriksen didn’t say that, did he. Although he did—about Dad—

“You think if we start making out in here, they’d open the door?” Dean’s fingers slip against his, pressing both their hands harder against his shoulder. He flinches. Still grinning. “Just to pull us apart, anyway. Worth a shot.”

“Shut up,” Sam says. Dean bites his lip, turning his face away. His chin trembles and Sam wants to—lay full length over him, take the next bullet if it comes. Go back in time and exorcise the demon before it could pull its gun, get Henriksen against the bars and get his hands around Henriksen’s neck and force him to hear the truth. That the dark was swarming up around them and if Henriksen didn’t let them go then it was going to take everyone in this station and, worse, it was going to take Dean and there was no chance, not one in the fucking world, that Sam was going to let his brother go without a fight. That it was impossible for that to happen again. Everything in him was solid on that part. That just—there’s no way that was going to happen.

Dean’s knee sags and presses against Sam’s. “Okay, so,” Dean says, chin tipping down. “We’ll take out the demons, save the day. Guess even cops beat demons. And save the making out part for later, huh? Though I could go for some of that surf and turf.”

Sam breathes out. He puts his forehead down to Dean’s shoulder for two seconds, and then sits up straight. There’s more shouting, somewhere past the hall to the holding cells. Sam squeezes his wrist, lets him drop his hand, presses the compress hard and solid against the wound. Dean’s looking straight ahead, steady. A well, somewhere in him, that always seems to have one last drop of relief.

[sarahsmi13s]

Lieutenant Rogers - part 8

Safe Places

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

characters: y/n rogers, neil vikander, bob floyd, dagger squad, sam wilson, john walker (mentioned), lemar hoskins (mentioned), karli morgenthau (mentioned), nico (mentioned)

word count: ~8.7k

chapter warnings: language, murder, grief, isolation, fighting, talk of blood, crying, internalizing feelings, vomiting (no one pukes but there are mentions of it), slightly obsessive behaviors, omaha is a good boyfriend, star really needs a hug, please let me know if I missed any

a/n: hi... hello... i just want to thank you all for your immense patience with me. i'm so so sorry it's almost been a year sense the last update. i hope this chapter was worth the wait 💙

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

chapter summary: in the wake of the publicized murder of a flag smasher, star has to wrestle with herself as she comes to terms with everything that has happened and anticipate what will happen in the fall out -- all the while omaha tries not to let his feelings overshadow hers

lieutenant rogers universe previous part || next part

You stared at your phone, the video stopped on a frame of the shield covered in blood. Your father’s shield, covered in blood. Covered in the blood of someone who was pleading for their life. It didn’t matter to you that they were a Flag Smasher. They were a fucking person.

Ice ran through your veins, a deathly chill capable of putting out the bonfire in front of you.

The one symbol of hope, the one piece of your father that you thought would keep a flame of his comfort burning in the world, was now smothered to nothing but bloodied ashes. His memory, his legacy, was now tainted. 

Swallowing the bitter taste of alcohol rising back up in your throat, you quietly excused yourself from the group.

You knew Omaha was watching you the whole time you trekked up the beach, your phone fighting for its life in your hand. He was going to give you your space, give you a moment to let yourself be angry and let it out before trying to console you. You needed a minute to be angry alone, then you both could be angry together.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time though, even as your face was illuminated by your phone screen as you called Sam.

You tried to take deep, calming breaths as you waited for Sam to pick up. 

It was morning time in Latvia, so you knew he would be awake. And if he wasn’t, you’d happily be his wake-up call.

Your thumb tapped on your fingers, index finger to pinky and back again, while your exhales fell out of trembling lips. You couldn’t puke. You weren’t going to puke. This was not the time to throw up. 

Saliva built up in your mouth, and your lips began to feel sticky – a tell-tale sign that you were probably going to vomit. Your stomach churned as you felt the buzzing heat of your nerves roll over your skin. 

You hated puking; you didn’t do it often. It was hard for you to get sick, and the serum also helped you to keep from puking after being in your plane. So, you being over the toilet or a trash can expelling the contents of your stomach wasn’t an event you experienced regularly. When it did happen, you were absolutely miserable.

You spit the built-up saliva out into the sand, your hand resting over your stomach as you hummed to try and ward away the nausea. 

Pick up the damn phone, Wilson, you thought as you closed your eyes and exhaled, head tilting up toward the navy blue sky.

Finally, just as you were about to hang up and try again, he answered, his tone already pleading and desperate.

“I know-” 

“What. The. Fuck did he do?” 

Sam’s words went unheard by you as you cut him off, hissing harshly into the receiver.

Anger and frustration rose up in place of the bile and alcohol that had been in your throat moments ago. Your words pushed the nausea out of the way.

Was your anger misplaced? You didn’t think so.

He promised you that he would keep John in line. Keep your father's legacy intact despite the catastrophe tasked with carrying it on. Sam gave you his word that he wouldn’t let Walker ruin it. 

And now, for John to go and do this? With Sam doing nothing to stop him?

As far as you were concerned, your anger towards him was justified.

“Y/N-”

“No, Sam! Don’t ‘Y/N’ me! What the hell happened?”

You weren’t about to let Sam try to calm you down. That wasn’t his place. Not after he failed to do the one thing he said he would.

Sam sighed, and the weight of it dampened the ringing in your ears slightly, a realization hitting you.

Sam was there. He watched it and everything that led up to it. He was just as angry about this situation as you were, not to mention the guilt and regret that probably weighed on his shoulders now, too.

Had your emotions jumped the gun? Did you lash out at Sam too quickly?

Despite that revelation there were things you couldn’t let go, justifications you were too stubborn to let go of. Stuck on his broken promise.

“Lemar Hoskins is dead. Karli killed him during a fight…”

Your heart sank.

You met Lemar once. It was before you left for the mission and only for a few minutes, but he seemed like such a sweet guy. He was there to support John and have his back; he was being a good friend.

And look where that got him…

You crossed your arm over your chest, your free hand gripping your bicep as your jaw clenched. “That’s-that’s unfortunate… but that doesn’t justify murder.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“He didn’t even kill Karli. Flag Smasher or not, that man was innocent.” You dug your foot into the sand, “He didn’t deserve to die.”

The ringing in your ears came back as the quiet slowly took over the call, Sam’s end unnervingly bare of words. Your jaw ticked in the silence, anger flaring up in your stomach. 

You finally broke it, letting yourself ask:

“Why didn’t you stop him? How could you allow this to happen?”

“Oh no, no, no, no. You’re not about to blame me for this,” Sam responded, his tone defensive and sharp.

Your free hand flew out to the side, your own defensiveness coming to light.

“You promised me, Sam! You gave me your word!”

In the midst of your shouting and arm flailing, you didn’t think about the possibility of there being people nearby. Nor did it occur to you that the scene you were making might make them uncomfortable – but, honestly, you didn’t really care.

“Don’t you think I would have stopped him if I could’ve? You really think that I just stood there and let him take an innocent life?”

The wild arm fell limp and slapped against your thigh, a huff escaping your lips. “Sam–”

“No, Y/N, it’s my turn to talk. While I understand your anger towards me, hell I’m angry towards me, but just give me a chance to explain. Please.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, your knee bouncing as you looked at the sand, “Okay… tell me what happened.” Your voice was a little softer, not as brassy or harsh, but still firm.

Sam let out a breath, taking a moment to collect the right words.

“After the fight, we all just scattered. Bucky and I got separated from John, and… by the time we got there, we were too late.”

You stayed quiet, your tongue swiping over your teeth as you let Sam continue.

“He ran off after he realized what he had done… Bucky and I went after him, tracked him down to an abandoned train station. When we got there, we confronted him and tried to get the shield back civilly, but John’s pride got in the way… it got ugly, but we got the shield back. It’s with me right now.”

You nodded, your thumb popping your fingers at your side as you drew in a breath. 

“What about Walker?” You need to change the focus, your tongue redirecting itself to form the question rather than the comment it really wanted to say.

“What do you mean?” Sam was clearly confused by the shift, but he welcomed it internally.

“Where is John, Sam?”

“They- His handlers, I guess is what they are, took him back to the States. Probably will have a hearing in a few days…” He trailed off, now wondering why you wanted to know Walker’s whereabouts. “What are you planning, Star?”

“Don’t worry about it, Wilson,” you snapped.

“Y/N–”

“You can’t stop me, Sam. Don’t try–”

“Walker took the serum, Y/N.” Your brow furrowed for a second as you processed the words Sam had interrupted you with, and the second you did – it felt like your organs turned to lead.

John Walker was a Super Soldier now? That’s just… fucking great and definitely not a huge problem for you.

You groaned a little and rubbed your forehead after you recovered from the slight shock, “I’m still going to confront him. I can’t sit in fucking silence about this. Not now…”

“And I don't expect you to. But you needed to know what you were walking into.”

You swallow and nod, “Well, thank you for that. I’ll umm.. I’ll keep that in mind.” After another beat of silence, Sam sighed a little, “Look, Y/N, we–”

You shook your head, “Later, Sam, this… this is not a conversation I want to have over the phone with just you. Bucky needs to be in on this, too.”

“Right, right, of course.” 

You nodded and shook out your hand, “Bye, Sam.”

“Talk later, kid.”

After hanging up, you rubbed your face before shoving your phone in your pocket and walking toward the shore.

You needed a second to breathe. You just got back from a high-stress mission, and now Walker has desecrated the only thing left of your father in this world that people put meaning to. And you knew that by tomorrow morning, newspapers, magazines, and the news reporters would be on your ass trying to get a statement.

Were you going to respond? Hell no. Why? Because you didn’t need your words twisted and thrown out into the world for people to use for their own agenda.

But you would deal with that in the morning. Right now, you just need to think and take a breath.

A chilled, salty breeze cooled your heated skin and brought notice to the hot tears of frustration on your cheeks.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you wiped them from your face. “Get it together, Rogers..”

“Honey,” Neil said gently to announce his presence before he touched your shoulders. 

You sucked in a breath, “‘m fine, baby…” He shook his head and turned you to face him, “No, Star-light, you’re not.”

More tears sprung to your eyes, and you looked down in an attempt to fight them off. “No, Neil, I’m f-”

He tilted your chin up, “Stop lying to yourself. You’re not okay, you’re pissed. You have every right to be upset.” His thumb reached up to swipe a tear away, “Please don’t hold it in…”

Your lip quivered, and you inhaled sharply, shaking your head, “I have to be strong. I can’t fucking cry just because I’m angry.” You pulled back a little and harshly wiped your eyes, not missing the look on your boyfriend’s face. 

You knew he was just looking out for you and you knew he was right. But you had a mission and you needed to focus. You could break down later – breaking down would cause you to shut down, and you didn’t have time to shut down.

Omaha sighed and helped wipe away the tears that escaped, “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t hold this in – it’s okay to cry…” He held your shoulders and looked into your eyes, “Scream, yell, cry, punch something-”

“Neil, I appreciate this, all of it. I do. But you just don’t understand what’s going on in my brain and in my heart right now.”

“Then help me understand. I want to be there for you.”

You sighed sadly, “I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. And you are here for me, Neil. Because you’re who I’m gonna fall on when the weight of this crashes down on me, you are going to be my rock.” You cupped his face in your hands, “You are my rock. I just… I need to face this first.”

He nodded and kissed your palm before kissing your fingertips as he moved one of your hands to his chest. “I love you, Star-light.” You smiled softly at him, “I love you too, Oma.” 

Omaha kissed your forehead before wrapping his arms around you, “You wanna head home?” You sniffled and nodded against his neck, “Please, if I stay, I’m afraid I’ll ruin the mood…” He nodded and rubbed your back, “C’mon Doll, let’s go home. I’ll send someone a text and let them know what’s goin’ on.”

You nodded and pulled back from the hug but stayed tucked under his arm as you both walked to Neil’s Jeep.

The ride home was nearly silent. The only sound in the Jeep was the radio, which had been turned down as low as it could go while still being audible.

Your left hand was threaded with his right one, your thumb pressing down on his knuckle like a button. The tip of his thumb moved up and down, letting itself be manipulated. Neil always made sure to keep his hand loose and moveable when you were tense or anxious. He knew how little control you felt you had in this situation, how you felt like the entire universe was crashing down on you, and you had nothing to get the pieces back in their rightful place.

So he could give you this. He could let you squeeze and press and twist and pull, trace whatever lines or patterns you needed to to ease your nerves. To let you feel in control of something.

Omaha knew better than to ask you questions. Your conversation with Sam was a private thing and something that you would talk to him about when you were ready. He didn’t need to push you for information or to talk about your feelings right now, and he trusted that if it was something you thought he needed to know, you would tell him.

That trust didn’t stop him from worrying, though.

He could handle your anxious silence. He understood it. But that doesn’t mean he liked it. 

He knew that your mind wasn’t putting together coherent thoughts, each one overlapping the next until it was just a cacophony of things that overwhelmed you to the core. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the tears in your lash line, welling up and making your eyes glossy. They beaded up on your eyelashes like dew on blades of grass in the morning. They gorgeously reflected any light that they could catch – the moonlight, streetlights, headlights of the few cars that passed you. But you didn’t let them roll over, catching them on the back of your finger before they had the chance.

Your chest stuttered softly with your shaky inhales, something he would have never noticed if he hadn’t learned all of your habits over the course of your five-year relationship. You tried to keep your breathing soft and controlled, quiet enough so you didn’t worry Neil. 

He’d also catch you attempting to pick at your lips, squeezing your hand every once in a while to divert your attention and let you know that he saw you. Usually, you’d give him an absent-minded squeeze back, and your hand would move to your chest, your thumb rubbing against the words scribbled across your collarbone and your heart thumping against it in time with the pulse he could feel against his own wrist.

He almost didn’t want to go home. He could sit in silence in the car, drive around for hours in this silence. In this silence, you were right next to him, holding his hand. This silence wasn’t despair; it wasn’t as heartbreaking as the silence at home.

At home… at home, you had more room to be distant. You had space to be alone, away from him. He understood that you needed space, but he hated it when you would isolate yourself in your own home. You’d tuck yourself into the corner of the couch and just try to figure it out by yourself. You’d completely detach yourself and go into focus mode, locking on to figuring out how to fix this situation – one that couldn’t really be fixed.

When he finally decided to pull into the house, you didn't do what he expected. Omaha expected you to yank your hand from his and bolt into the house to find a corner to hide in.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you swallow, sniffling slightly as you turn from the window to face Neil. He squeezed your hand, letting you know he was still there and he wasn’t going anywhere without you.

“I’m going to DC…”

You didn’t look up at him as you spoke, afraid you’d break if you looked into his eyes. His kindness and understanding swam in them, conveying his feelings so his words never had to. And they were your safe place.

His eyes were kaleidoscopes of colors. The light manipulated them beautifully, capturing each shade in its individuality and in their unity. They were gorgeous. They were home.

They could be the soft dirt, warm, comforting, and inviting – ready for something to hold. Or they were the grass or the trees, fields and forests of serenity and calmness – a place you could find peace. Or they were the sky or the ocean, two of the greatest expanses on earth – a place you felt in control and a place that showed you just how delicate you could be, a place you could relax and let go.

They were all of those things…

They were Neil.

You squeezed his hand, grounding yourself with the chill of his skin against the heat of yours. You took a deep breath, tracing the veins on the back of his hands to focus.

“You-you don’t have to come with me. This is last minute, and we just got home, but–”

“Star-light, I’m going with you. Whether it’s to be your support, your back up, or your alibi – I’m going.”

He knew that you weren’t asking his permission to go to DC, nor were you really asking him to go with you. But he was going. He wasn’t letting you go all the way across the country alone. He’d stay at the hotel or in the Airbnb if you wanted, but he was going to be within reach of you – that was non-negotiable. 

“I… This isn’t going to be some fun trip. I think you know why I’m going… So I want you to think about this.”

Neil didn’t need to know and he wasn’t going to ask questions, either. You would tell him why, probably were about to, before he interrupted you. And he could only assume it had to do with that video and your phone call with Sam. 

“I don’t need to. When it comes to you, to this, I’m going to be by your side. You want to face John, let him know that you know what he’s done and that he fucked up. I’m just gonna be there so you don’t get yourself hurt or in trouble.”

He squeezed your hand again, “I’m your partner, your wingman. I am here for you, whenever you need me.”

He watched your face carefully as he spoke, catching the quirk of the corners of your mouth before you sobered up and nodded.

“I’ll um… I’ll get the tickets after we get inside. They’ll be shitty, but they’re last minute…”

“As long as they’re next to each other, I don’t care.” 

And that was true. He didn’t care where you sat in the plane – just that you sat together. He wanted – no, he needed to be next to you. Being there for you is his priority right now.

You swallowed and nodded once more, caging his hand between yours.

“I will do my best.” 

He hated how quiet your voice was. It wasn’t a normal quiet. It was meek and powerless. You sound defeated and scared. 

You were none of those things. And seeing you this way broke his heart.

His free hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you toward him gently as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to your forehead, eyes closing as he tried to pour every ounce of love and comfort he could muster into it.

And it seemed to transfer.

Your shoulders relaxed as he felt your shaky exhale brush the skin of his neck.

His eyes stayed closed as he spoke against your skin, “I love you, Star-light.” 

You nodded against his lips, feeling comfort in your chest at the vibration of his low voice against your forehead. His voice was smooth with a slight rasp, similar to warm dark chocolate with a shot of whiskey mixed in – it was just… peaceful.

It took over the other voices that were shouting in your head. All it took was the low whisper of those four words to dampen the screaming. Those voices were still there, but Neil’s made its presence known, and that was enough to get them to back off a little.

“I love you too, Oma. So so much…”

Your voice was still soft, but there was a strength that returned to it. It sounded fuller, not as hollow as it had before.

Omaha wasn’t sure how long that would last, but he would take the win.

He pulled back after pressing another kiss to your forehead, and his hand moved to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Let’s go in. We need some sleep so we can get up and pack.” 

You nodded, inhaling deeply to ground yourself before exiting the safety of the Jeep.

Neil smiled softly at you, hoping to get you to smile back. And you did… But he knew that you’d done it out of reflex rather than because you felt like smiling.

You turned your head and kissed the palm of his hand, squeezing the one you were holding before you pulled away completely and got out of the Jeep. 

He sighed as your door shut, and he unbuckled himself, getting out to meet you at the front door.

After getting inside, you silently moved around the house. 

Both of you had already rinsed your legs and feet of sand and emptied your shoes before leaving, so you didn’t have to worry about that at all. So, you just quietly went to the kitchen and got your laptop before you walked towards your bedroom.

“Hey,” Neil said, gently catching your arm as you walked past him. “I’m gonna take a shower before I go to bed. Do you want-”

“I’ll shower after you. I want to make sure I get these tickets ordered, and that I can snag a decent flight time. I’m hoping there’s still some left for this morning.” Your voice was breathless, almost as if you had been holding your breath as you moved through the house. The words sounded rushed and rehearsed like you had been waiting for him to ask. Your mind was already set on showering separately.

All Omaha could do was nod. He could try to convince you to join him, tell you he’d wait for you to order the tickets – but your mind was made up. 

“Alright, I’ll be quick.” 

“You don’t have to. Take as long as you need.”

Something in your voice and the way your eyes looked down at where his hand gripped your bicep made his stomach feel heavy. 

You were reverting again. Going back to that corner he thought he had pulled you away from. Isolating yourself again when he was right there. 

He was right there. 

All you had to do was just let him sit with you. Or take his hand and let him pull you up. 

You would talk to him when you were ready. He knew that. But he didn’t like that you were trying to face this all on your own because you felt like you were alone. You weren’t. 

He was right there.

But he nodded, knowing if he pushed, you would back away or lash out like a scared and wounded animal. The opposite of what he wanted. “Alright…”

You gave him another closed-mouth smile and kissed his shoulder before settling in the bedroom.

He rubbed his face, a frustrated sigh left his lips before he shook his head to himself and went to the laundry room to toss two towels into the dryer before grabbing a clean one for himself.

Walking into the bedroom, he saw you sitting on top of the covers with your laptop on your desk tray as you bit your nails. He sighed sadly and walked over, grabbing a piece of gum from your vanity on the way. 

He moved your hand away from your mouth, his grip gentle on your wrist as he held out the gum to you.

No words needed to be exchanged, just a silent moment between you both before he left you alone on the bed to take his shower.

Neil stood under the stream, the hot water drenching his hair and running down his face. 

He avoided his music, knowing that it would do nothing to change his mood. He needed the silence – bask in the steam and the rhythmic beating of water on the titles around him. 

His head fell back, letting the water pelt him in the face as he took deep breaths. In front of him, his hands balled into fists when he inhaled and relaxed as he exhaled. 

Neil needed this. He needed this moment, to be alone and vulnerable behind the closed door – out of your sight. 

There was irony in it; he knew that. The irony when he ran off to hide in the safety of the bathroom so you didn’t have to see him break. Didn’t have to watch him replay every moment over and over in his head. You were going through enough, and he wasn’t about to let you see his hurt or his worry just yet. This wasn’t about him, and he wasn’t going to make it about him.

So, that’s why he was here, standing under the showerhead with his eyes closed, the events on the beach replayed behind his eyelids like a movie.

******

His stomach churned as he watched the video from over your shoulder. The pleads of the young man not going unheard. Then, the sickening crack of the shield being driven into his chest. He heard it again and again… and again. 

John Walker murdered someone. And the whole world saw it.

Rage drove up in his throat, slamming on the brakes and leaving a disgusting burnt taste on his tongue. 

It was almost a metallic taste, a morbid mimicry of the paused frame that lit up your features. 

Your expression seemed blank, shocked at the horrendous act. But your eyes told a different story. 

As they scanned over your phone screen, Neil could see the pain creep in. He watched them crack, breaking as they reflected the blood-stained shield.

Your nose twitched subtly as your lip quivered. He glanced at your hands, noticing how they shook slightly. He doubted that you noticed the tremor, just staring with unblinking eyes at your phone.

“Honey…” 

He wanted to get your attention but not startle you. Your fellow pilots began to stare, concern and pity etched on their faces. He needed to get you out of this, pull you away from the prying eyes and the inevitable questions they would bombard you with.

The squad would try to coddle you. Tip-toe around subjects to try not to make you cry. Or ask invasive questions that you weren’t ready to answer. They meant well, sure, but it wouldn’t help you. It wouldn’t make this situation better. Nothing would…

“Doll-”

You swallowed, your hands dropping to your sides as you excused yourself to trek up the sand wanting a moment alone. Your arm flexed as you had a death grip on your phone.

“Omaha, I didn’t-”

“I know, Garcia,” Neil mumbled as he turned to keep an eye on you, his back to the bonfire. “I know.”

He kept his eye on you as you talked on the phone, most likely with Sam or Bucky, as the others tried to continue on with the party. 

He watched your hands and your legs, noticing the near-perpetual bouncing of your left leg. 

Neil hated this. Hated just standing here, just being some witness to the damage John’s actions caused. His emotions were collateral damage, only worsening with each minute he watched you stand there in pain.

He couldn’t hear much, distant hissing and muffled sentences mostly. But then he heard you shout, your arm flying out to the side.

“You promised me, Sam! You gave me your word!”

His heart shattered. Even from this distance, he could hear how broken your voice was, how it was strained with unshed tears.

He felt his nose burn, sniffling on reflex as he rubbed it with his index finger. 

“Vikander? You alright?”

Omaha hummed absent-mindedly in response, not processing the question or the voice that asked it. 

“Neil, hey, are you okay?”

The hand on his shoulder pulled his attention from you, making him suck in a breath out of surprise. “What?”

Bob shot him a concerned look, “Are you okay? You looked like you zoned out for a second.” 

*****

His conversation with Bob is a blurry memory.

All he remembers is taking his eyes off you for what felt like a second to talk to Bob and take a sip of the water offered to him. By the time he turned back around to check on you, you had walked down to the shore.

He felt his stomach sink again as he remembered how your arms had been wrapped around your waist, how your shoulders moved up and down with your deep breaths. And how when he approached you, you scolded yourself for crying as you tried to subtly wipe at your tears.

You tried to lie and say you were fine, hiding your tears when he pushed you ever so slightly. You pushed back, dismissed your own feelings and held your hurt in. 

Neil’s tears mixed with the water running down his face.

But he didn’t care that he was crying. He didn’t care that he was crying over something he couldn’t fix. Something that was tearing you apart from the inside out, but you hid from him – hid from yourself. You were hurting, and it hurts him that you don’t think you can be vulnerable.

So, he didn’t care that he was crying because it was you – he loves you that much.

His shower was a little longer than normal, but he didn’t think you would really mind right now. 

He just went through his routine on autopilot as his mind wandered and raced, recapping the evening. He ended it with a cold shot, letting the freezing water cool his heated skin and hopefully soothe his aching heart.

Omaha got out and dried off, moving languidly as he kept zoning out.

He wasn’t sure what state he would find you in when he walked into the bedroom. That scared him. This whole situation scared him because he had no idea what to expect next. He didn’t know what you were going to do when you got to DC or when you saw John Walker. 

It all just made him uneasy. 

But he knew that he just had to trust you. Though he wasn’t going to abandon his concerns if he felt that something was dangerous. He’s your partner; your safety matters to him.

After he dried off and got dressed in his boxers and Navy shirt, he exited the bathroom as he ran the towel over his hair.

“You might want to give it a minute or two. Let the hot water replenish a little,” he said as nonchalantly as possible.

He didn’t hear a response, so he looked up to catch the tail end of your nod. 

“I got the tickets order. Flight leaves at about ten in the morning,” you responded softly, picking at your lip as you looked at your computer screen. “Um, San Diego International is the airport. It’s the closest but we’ll need to get up earlier so we can pack.”

Neil tried not to sigh out loud at your subject change. He knew you weren’t doing it on purpose; you were just trying to keep what you could in line and control whatever you could. He also knew the frustration in him wasn’t caused by you. 

He nodded and sat on your side of the bed, trying not to look at your computer screen knowing he would find articles about John on your screen.

“Baby,” he called softly, hoping you would look up at him. When you didn’t, he repeated the nickname: “Baby, please look at me.” 

When your eyes remained glued to your screen, he closed the laptop and grabbed your desk tray, moving it to your actual desk.

“Okay, no, you’re not gonna do that.”

“Neil-”

“No, Y/N,” he pushed, sitting in front of you. “You can’t do that because it is not going to help. You are just going to go further and further down a hole that I can’t pull you out of.”

He grabbed your hands, knowing that you would try to run away if he didn’t. “I get that you're frustrated. That you’re pissed off. I get it, baby. But reading articles that are full of more opinions than they are fact is not going to help you.”

You swallowed and looked at him, “People think he was justified…”

His heart shattered right then in his chest. Your defeated and tear-filled voice crashed into it, sending shards of his heart into his throat.

“How could they find murder justified? John had no right-” He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that you weren’t looking at him. 

He cupped your chin, turning your head back to look at him and moving his hand to your cheek when you did. “That man did not deserve to die. Flag Smasher or not, he did not deserve that. John had no right to kill him.”

“Nico…”

He looked at you, confused. “What?”

Tears filled your eyes, your voice coming out in a soft whimper. “His name was Nico…”

“Sweetheart…”

“He was murdered… All because he wanted to help people. That’s all they want to do is help people, Neil.” Your voice cracked as he watched anger fill your eyes, “He left behind two sisters… Two girls who watched their brother get murdered. They got notified of his death through fucking social media. His murder is viral.” 

He stayed quiet, letting you go until you stopped yourself – willing to listen as long as you got your feelings out to him.

“Sure, the Flag Smashers methods aren’t ethical, and Karli hasn’t been a saint. But they’re the only ones actually willing to do anything to help those people. The GRC isn’t doing shit!”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think there was much he could say. 

You pulled your hand from his, rubbing your face harshly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That… I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that.”

Neil shook his head immediately, resting his hand on your knee. “No, don’t apologize. You don’t have to bottle it up.” 

You gave him a weak smile, resting your hand on top of his. He smiled back at you reassuringly before he turned his palm up and kissed your hand.

You just sat like that for a moment. Your hand in his as the water rolled off his dark hair and onto the duvet, letting the silence settle between you for a moment.

“They think he’s justified because Lemar was killed during a fight… They see it as retribution for that,” you said softly after a few minutes while you played with his fingers. 

Omaha shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, but you continued.

“It wasn’t even Nico that killed Lemar. Karli was…”

He squeezed your hand, “So then it’s not retribution. And one injustice does not fix another.” 

You shook your head, looking down at your joined hands. “It doesn’t…”

A tear hit Neil’s hand, making his heart break – again. But he didn’t make a huge scene. He didn’t point it out. All he did was reach out and gently wipe the tear from your cheek. “Why don’t you go shower, Star-light? The water pressure is nice, and it should all be warmed up now. I’ll heat up your towel and hair towel in the dryer. What do you want to wear to bed?”

You sniffled and leaned into his hand. “One of your oversized shirts and a pair of your boxers, please.” He nodded and kissed your forehead, “You got it, doll.”

“Thank you, Oma, really.”

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he squeezed your hand. “Just go take a shower, relax. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

You nodded and gently pecked his lips, “I love you.” He kissed you back, “I love you too.”

Taking a deep breath, you got up and went to the bathroom, leaving Neil on the bed.

He sat on the bed and waited to hear you turn the shower on before he started moving around the room.

After grabbing the clothing items you asked for and his phone, he went to the laundry room.

He sighed heavily as he tossed the clothes in with the towels and started the dryer, hoping that they would be warm by the time you were done in the shower.

“Okay, now what to–”

Mid-sentence, Neil’s phone started ringing. He didn’t need to check the caller ID to know who it was.

“Hey Bob…” He answered, his voice flat to try and conceal the relief of someone to talk to.

“Hey, I was just calling to check-in. See how you both were holdin’ up.”

Neil sighed, his arm crossing over his chest as he leaned against the washing machine. “Honestly? Not great. I um… I caught her looking at articles.”

Bob inhaled sharply on the other end of the phone, “That’s not good…”

“No, no, it’s not… There are so many who agree with John’s actions and others that don’t. But they’re all just opinions. No one is going to know all the facts. They only know what they saw in that video. And what they saw was John murder someone with the shield in the middle of the town square.”

Omaha harshly ran his teeth over his bottom lip, “I don’t know what to do, Bob. She’s hurting, and she won’t talk to me. She’s said a few things, but the closest I got to her emotions was her voice… Then she fucking apologized for talking about it. What do I fucking do?”

“What you’re doing, Neil. Being there for her. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“That’s not enough!”

“Neil, I know you’re angry…”

That was the understatement of the century. 

Neil was pissed. Someone hurt you. Someone’s careless and selfish actions have hurt you – again.

Someone has taken you from him. Their actions have caused you to internalize your feelings and put your guards up all over again. Making you hide from your safe places.

And that started a fire in him.

“I’m more than angry, Robert. She is hurting. She has to mourn the memory of her father after mourning him the first time!”

Neil tends to hold resentment towards the one that hurt you, Bob knew that. He still holds resentment towards your dad for what he did to you. No one will get away with trying to smother out his Star-light.

And now John was at the top of his list. 

“Walker had no right to murder that man – even if he were to be the one to kill Lemar. Retribution or not, it’s still fucking murder. And John won’t get away with this.”

Neil couldn’t give less of a fuck if he was Captain America or not. John wasn’t getting away with hurting you or disrespecting something that held so much meaning for you.

Bob sighed again, most likely putting his glasses on his head to rub his eyes. “Omaha, you know she won’t want you to get involved in this… She’s keeping things to herself for a reason. And while you don’t like it, she’s protecting you and herself by doing that.”

“I just want to be there for her. I want her to come to me so she doesn’t face this on her own,” Neil’s voice cracked as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I want to be her safe place again…”

“That is never going to change, Neil. Never. You will always be her safe place. And she knows that when she is ready, she can run to you, and you’ll be there with open arms. She just needs to process this on her own… give her time.”

Neil nodded, wiping his eyes harshly as he tried to regain his own composure. 

“Your feelings are justified, Neil. You are allowed to be upset, too. So don’t think that you being scared or upset about her closing herself is selfish or anything, because it’s not.”

Omaha couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “Are you sure you’re not a mind reader, Bob?”

“Well, Nick Fury’s not on my doorstep, so I’m gonna stick with no,” Bob laughed.

A beat of silence passed before Neil spoke up.

“Hey, we’re leaving for DC tomorrow morning. Do you think you could go grab my Jeep from the airport and bring it back to the house? Y/N can leave her spare key somewhere for you. And maybe just look after the house since you're only a few houses down?”

“Of course, I can do that for you.”

“Thanks, man.” Neil sighed and looked back toward the bedroom. “I better get going. Calm myself down before she gets out of the shower.”

“Alright, good luck. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thank you.”

Both hung up, and Neil wiped his face before going back to the bedroom to wait for you to get out of the shower.

You sighed as you tossed and turned in your bed, your body becoming restless the moment you thought you were comfortable. You thought the shower would’ve calmed you down, but the stress was eating at your nerves and making your stomach churn constantly. 

The anxiety was making you feel hot, your already naturally high body temperature rising as your mind ran at a million miles a minute.

Huffing, you threw the cover off of you and got out of bed. 

Your feet drug as you took yourself to the kitchen. 

You got a glass of ice water before going to the living room and sitting in the corner of the couch. 

Sleep wasn’t coming to you anytime soon, not with all the thoughts running through your mind… So you sat on the couch and looked out of your sliding glass doors at the moonlit backyard.

Your eyes felt heavy with tears. They were tears of frustration and anger. Tears of heartbreak. It was all so much, and being left alone with your thoughts was probably the worst situation you could have put yourself in. But you couldn’t go anywhere or talk to anyone about this. They wouldn’t understand anyway. 

Tears weighed down your lash line, blurring your vision as you zoned out completely. They slowly overflowed, breaking the surface tension and tracking down your face.

But you weren’t crying. 

No. Crying involved you actually feeling something, and right now… numbness was overtaking it all. Pushing everything from the last few hours into one blurry mess of static.

You didn’t have time to cry… you had a mission to complete.

The next morning, Neil woke up to see you moving around the room and packing bags for both of you.

He glanced over and checked the time, seeing just how early it was, “What time did you get up?” You didn’t look up from what you were doing as you answered him, “Didn’t sleep.” 

“Star-light…” 

“Oma, I’m fine. If I need to sleep, I’ll sleep,” you said, still shoving things into your bags.

You didn’t need sleep. Sleep was the furthest down on your list of needs. What you really needed was to get on a plane and get to DC so you could confront the hurricane of emotions that were swirling through your being.

You needed to release the fermenting anger and frustration; it was poisoning you, and you knew it. But you were too damn stubborn, wanting to hold it in and take it out on the true cause of it.

Dumping it all on Omaha or your friends wasn’t fair, not in your eyes. It wasn’t justice in them either. John wasn’t going to miss your wrath. He’d been on your radar since he took up the mantle, and now you were trying to get a missile lock.

That was justice.

Neil sighed and got out of bed, ruffling his hair as he walked over to you. “I know you’re a super soldier, but you’re not invincible. Your body can only handle so much. You need to sleep.” He wrapped his arms around you, “I just-”

“Neil, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” you huffed, leaning on the duffels in front of you. 

“I know, and I’m not trying to get you to talk about it. I know you’ll come to me when you’re ready. But I’m not just gonna abandon my duties as your boyfriend. I’m still gonna make sure you take care of yourself because I love you.”

You sighed and dropped your head back onto his shoulder, “I know… I know, I’m sorry.” He kissed your temple, “Don’t apologize. You’re going through a lot. But I’m gonna make sure you’re taken care of.” 

Sniffling a little, you rest your hands on top of his. “Thank you, honey… I just–”

You were cut off by your phone ringing. 

You huffed again and went over to pick it up. “Hello?... No comment.” You hung up and shoved your phone into your sweatpants pocket. 

“That was fast,” Neil pointed out as he started packing whatever was left.

Rubbing your forehead, you sat on the bed as you sighed, “Yeah, that is the… fifth? Maybe the sixth reporter to call me for a statement on all of this. I can’t turn my phone off, so I just answer and say, ‘no comment’. This has been going on since 4 this morning.” You felt your phone go off with a short ring in your pocket. 

Neil opened his mouth to say something but you held a hand up, “Don’t get me started on the emails.”

He just nodded with a playful smile and continued to pack.

You both sat in silence for a little bit, but Omaha broke it when he noticed you were fidgeting.

“Hey, what’s going on? You’re a little more fidgety than you usually are…” 

Last night, as you evaded sleep, it occurred to you that Neil had no idea that John was a super soldier. You hadn’t told him that very important detail last night. It didn’t change your mind, but keeping your boyfriend in the dark about that wasn't fair.

You swallowed, playing with the worn cuffs of your hoodie, “There’s um…” You scratched your brow, “I didn’t tell you everything last night…” 

He stopped packing and came over to stand in front of you, “That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me–” 

“No, this,” you nodded as you kept your head down, looking at your lap. “This I need to tell you…” 

“Doll, you’re worrying me… what’s wrong?” 

You looked up at him, swallowing your nerves before speaking, “John took the serum�� he’s a super soldier now.” 

Neil’s eyes widened as he took a few steps back, his lips parting slightly in shock.

“I’m sorry?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really. His brow was furrowed, and his hands were up as he tilted his head, but he wasn’t really asking.

He let out a dry chuckle, “Did you just say that John Walker, the man you’re about to fly to DC to confront, was a um… was a super soldier? Or-or am I hearing things? I really, really hope that’s not what you just said.”

“You heard right… John took the serum,” you played with your fingers, looking down at your lap.

Neil put his hands on his hips and nodded, “Okay…” He wiped his mouth before pressing his lips into a thin line and rolling them between his teeth. 

He took in a deep breath through his nose, attempting to keep his voice steady as emotion began to rise in his throat. He knew his hands would start shaking at any minute, so his voice couldn’t break or waiver and ruin how serious he was.

“You knew… You knew, and you were still gonna confront him? At probably the most emotionally unstable point in his life! Are you insane?!”

You winced a little and rubbed your face as he started to pace back and forth. “Oma-” “Were you even gonna tell me?” Neil cursed himself for the breathy, almost dejected tone that began to work its way into his voice. 

You looked up, desperation for understanding in your eyes. “Yes but-”

“When? Before or after you got yourself killed?”

You stood up, frustrated that he wasn’t letting you explain yourself, “I can handle myself, Neil.” 

“It’s not about that Y/N! It’s about whether or not John is capable of murder! And as we learned last night, he absolutely is!” 

You scoffed and put your hands on your hips, pointing an accusatory finger at your boyfriend, “You just don’t think that I can do it! You don’t think I can handle this, do you?” 

He stayed silent, his brown eyes avoiding you as he tongued his cheek.

Your heart dropped to your feet, and your hands fell limp at your sides. “You actually don’t think I can do this…”

He hung his head, “This is dangerous, Y/N. John isn’t just some dickhead with a shield anymore… He’s angry, and I’m sure whatever the council has to say to him can’t be good.” 

In a flash, your anger resurfaced. “A shield? A shield?! It’s more than just ‘a shield’, Neil! It’s THE shield! The shield my father earned! The shield that was made for him! For HIM! Not John! My dad worked for that shield, he earned it! John was handed the shield! So don’t just call it ‘a shield’ because it is so much more than that! And you know that!”

Neil flinched a little at your volume, not expecting you to react that way, but not shocked by it either. “You’re right, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…”

Finally, he met your eyes, and you could see the emotion swirling in them. “I’m scared…” 

You swallowed and stayed silent, your anger smothering out as your expression softened.

“An-and I get that confronting him is the best way for you to get your feelings and emotions out… But we know what John is capable of. We know that he can and will kill someone with the slightest bit of provoking. You are going to be his antagonist, and that scares the shit out of me.”

“I can handle John, Neil…” You protested quietly, still hurt by the fact he thought you couldn’t. 

He sighed and rubbed your arms before tilting your head up. “It’s not that I don’t think you can. You’re quite literally the strongest person I know. But I’m scared, Y/N, and I’m not apologizing for being worried for your safety. I just need you to be safe.” 

You sniffled, “I’m not changing my mind… I can’t let him slip by, thinking that I don’t know what he did. He has to know-” You looked away as emotion clogged your throat. “He has to know, Neil. He has to know that I know.”

He gently turned your head back to face him, “I know. And I’m not asking you to change your mind. The bastard deserves to see the pain he caused. All I’m asking is that you’re careful and you really think about your approach. I love you too much to keep in my concerns.” 

You nodded before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you too. I love you so much.” You pulled back and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll try my best to be careful. But I can’t make you a promise…” He nodded, “That’s all I ask.” 

Omaha pecked your lips, “C’mon, we got a flight to catch.”

how do you even describe this...

other than just pain and anger.

star is kicking herself more than she probably should be and omaha is just trying to keep her as safe as he can...

but how will confronting walker turn out?

hi guys! i just want to thank you again for your incredible patience. i can not and will not promise you when the next part will be up and ready to go. but i will be working on it to get it out to you guys 💙

lt rogers tags <33 (i apologize if i missed anyone if i did please remind me in the comments):

@milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @twsssmlmaa

@malindacath @startrekfangirl2233 @indigodaydream @that-one-random-writer @hangmansgbaby

@nikkipea @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yourlocalloser-core @mimi-8793 @scalesarenotbalanced

@carnationworld @bethabear12

[wunjotheork]

Cat Got In

Characters: Marcus & Dagmar - Words: ~1100

Third floor. Turn the key. Push the door. Stop mid-step when ears pick some noises. Someone’s inside, puking.

Oh, come on...

It’s her. The chiphead. And wasted? Fuck me. Can’t help but sigh. Tired already. Motivation’s gripping the doormat. Wanna turn around and leave. Clubs are still open. Plenty of choice. Could grab a drink. Pills. Someone.

Wait, no, supposed to lay low.

Fuck it. Step in. Slam door. Lights stay off, don’t need them. Drop the tool bag on the floor, loud. Will clean the blood later. Jacket on the coat rack. Swaps shoes for slippers. Night's fucked, better get comfy.

More vomiting? At least it’s from the bathroom.

Go to roll up shirt’s sleeves. Pause. Take it off altogether. Fold and leave it on a chair in the kitchenette. Finally notice the open window. Girl can’t use a door, heh? At least she didn't smash it this time. Get closer. Take a look. No, fuck her, lock’s busted, gonna need to change it.

Now I’m pissed.

Storm to the bathroom. Reeks of alcohol and bile in here. Flick the lights on to make an entrance. Kinda dumb. Get blinded and groan. But not as much as the mess on the ground.

— The hell you doing here?

Ass on the floor, head on the toilet bowl, the elf is heaving. Can’t see her face, hidden by long platinum hair. The only answer she gives is a raised middle finger. Weighting between throwing her out the door or the window when she starts retching again.

Rush to get her on her knees. Make sure whatever is getting out doesn’t land on the floor. Tiles are a bitch to clean. Pull her soiled hair out of the way. Hands get dirty. Don’t care, they've seen worse tonight already. Can’t let go of the elf or else she falls. No more strength? Wonder how she climbed up here. But girl does look like shit. Her plastic skin's all scratched and busted.

— Drank too much?

Looks obvious, but need to be sure.

— Y-yeah...

— Why?

Pause. Then a weak laugh.

— To forget your ugly ass.

Eh. Classic cunt. Would smile, but something's different. She sounds… She sounds sad?

Crouch next to her. Don’t let go. Force her optics to meet eyes. Finally see her face. Plastic’s busted there too. Even got some blood. Hers. Sight makes the brain go numb. Feel chest filling up with anger. Wait, no. Not anger. Concern?

Shit. Getting soft with her. But hey, can’t hurt to be nicer, right?

— What happened, babe?

Girl presses her lips. Doesn’t want to talk about it. Shame in her eyes. Tries to look away. But hold on her chin is firm. She blinks like mad. Big fat tears still roll down her cheeks. A sob brings out the snot.

Damn.

Hurts to see that. Pull her closer. Sobs get louder. Big arms tight around her thin frame. Girl's crying on what’s closest to a friendly shoulder. Gripping an ork’s t-shirt like her life depends on it. And her claws fucking hurts ! Shouldn’t have given her the idea. But her chrome’s a fucking piece of art. Wanted her to be more perfect.

— Shh. Shh, it’s alright, I’m… here.

Feels strange to say that. Clumsy. Not good with people. Only good at offing them.

— Did… someone hurt you?

— Huh? No?

Gently push her away, hands firm on her shoulder. She lets go to swipe her nose. 

— What then? You look like shit.

— I got drunk, okay? Then I tried to leave but I... I fell down the stairs.

— The stairs? At the club?

A nod. Then more sobbing. Pull her close again. Not before eyes do a roll tho. Can’t fucking believe it. Know exactly which stairs she's talking about. The ones at Sue's, for the private bar. Clubbers got their back to it. But runners… Shit, whole city’s shadows must've seen her. Girl’s rep is in shambles! Not that it was that good anyway. And without one, nobody’s gonna work with her.

Nobody but me.

— I’m never gonna get rid of you, am I?

Get shoved away. Have to let go. Drunk idiot falls on her ass. Optics scream bloody murder. Girl's done crying.

— Fuck you, Marcus!

— Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, Gaby.

Stare at each other, long. Her anger fades. She looks away. Good. Don’t feel like arguing.

— I fucked up. Should have come with you.

Grab a towel and hand it to her.

— Yup.

Asked her. Insisted. Would have made the job easier. Would have kept her reputation intact. Didn’t even mind sharing the money. But the miss decided to go drink instead. Unsupervised.

Fucking dumbass.

Knees protest when getting up. Back pops when standing straight. Will need to lie down soon. Fucking exhausted. Rinse hands. Grab a goblet on the sink, fill it with tap water. Hand it to her. Remember first question.

— So, why were you drinking?

— Because I’m fucking sad and lonely, that's why.

She looks away. Topic’s over. Watch her drink. Still, think her words over. Want to help. But don’t know how. What do people do when sad? What do I do? Blurt out first thing that comes to mind.

— Want me to fuck your brain out?

She chokes. Water lands on tiles. And coughs.

Yeah, shut up Marcus.

— I said lonely, not horny.

Fair. Not in the mood for that anyway. Not my type of girl too. Take the goblet back when she’s done. Flush the toilets. Help her get on her feet. Why she so fucking tall? Have to look up now. She leans in. Forehead against forehead. Plastic’s cold. Her breath stinks. Skinny arms go around broad shoulders. Puts all her weight on me. Bitch. Still, let her. Don’t care being so close. Kinda like it. Notice all the wrinkles on her dress. Hands already pulling at the red fabric to smooth it out. Hear her laugh. She sounds tired.

— Wanna go on the couch?

She nods. Let go of the dress and grab her around the waist. Lift. Her feet barely leave the ground. Fucking giant. Can’t help but smile a little. She's heavier. Girl is putting on some more weight. Good. Can still remember how bony she used to be.

Leave the bathroom. Drop her on the couch. Grab her dress and pull it off her. Thing fucking stinks. Princess complaining about the low temperature. Shouldn't have broken the window. Go to the drawer. Throw her an old ass t-shirt three times too big. Will have to do. Have to help her get her boots off. Feeling like a damn babysitter. Except the baby's probably older than me. But when all is done? Finally lay down. Have to push her a bit. Whole body relaxes. Eyes close immediately. Feel her move to cover us with the old plaid. Nuzzling against me like I’m some kind of pillow.

— Thank you, Marcus.

Her voice’s a whisper. Did she really say that? Can only grunt in return. More tired than expected. Dozing off already. Last thing I feel is a kiss on the cheek.

[thetasteofbeautyandlove]

Finally posting Niku’s backstory!!!

Tw for cannibalism (both of self and others), detailed descriptions of gore, murder, child abuse, puking and self harm

There is nothing wrong.

In the dark, cold basement, shaking hands dug into torn apart flesh, gripping at anything they can grab while tearing off chunks with reckless abandon, their hands stained with blood, getting under their nails from the intensity.

There is nothing wrong.

Biting into the chunks of flesh made their stomach churn, but they hadn’t eaten anything other than their own flesh in years. They needed this. They hated it, but they needed to. They’re barely able to process what they were doing, the adrenaline and panic inside them making their brain fog. So they eat. And they eat. And eat. Until their brain began to process what was happening. Looking down, all they feel is horror deep in their gut, as well as nausea overwhelming them.

There is nothing wrong.

Their parents’ mutilated corpses lay out in front of them, completely drenched in blood. They looked similar to how Niku would be left by their parents almost daily, body torn apart without care. Chunks of flesh cut or torn from the skin, bloody muscles visible to the eye. They’d always been able to stitch themself back together after their parents had cut them up, having found sewing supplies on one of the shelves after the first chunk they’d torn from their own hand out of hunger, but right now- right now their parents were completely motionless, their eyes completely foggy, their chests not moving.

There is nothing wrong.

They can feel nausea overwhelming them, barely managing to keep themself from vomiting as they push their body up and run up the stairs and out of the basement. They hadn’t been upstairs in years now, they think, having been locked down here since they were only four years old. They can’t even remember the layout of the house at this point, stumbling around in a panic as they tried to find the bathroom. They were trying so hard to keep themself moving despite how their body felt so incredibly weak. They quickly run in and vomit into the toilet, the chunks of flesh and organs mixed with blood disgusting them. They sit over the bowl for a few minutes they believe, which felt much longer, before forcing their shaking body up, searching through the cabinets and drawers until they find bandages. They try their best to unwrap it with their trembling hands, wrapping the gauze around their missing and sewn shut eye. Their clothes should cover all their other wounds, so that wasn’t a concern.

As they shut the cabinet, they accidentally catch a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. And they hated what they saw.

Their body and clothes were covered in blood, hands coated entirely as well as their mouth smeared with crimson. Their one showing eye looked so dull and exhausted, but so full of fear at the same time. Their skin discolored in spots, likely from lack of oxygen to their veins and blood vessels. They guess that’s what happens when you sew a limb back on. They couldn’t even recognize themself in their reflection anymore.

There is nothing wrong.

They looked like a monster.

There is nothing wrong.

They were a monster.

There is nothing wrong.

After nine whole years of living in that hellish basement, of their parents cutting apart their own child’s body and using their flesh as food, they’d finally managed to fight back. Day after day of sewing their body back together was finally over. At least, sewing up wounds from their parents was over. As long as they were without food, they’d likely have to continue eating their own body like they’d had to do for nine years now. They’d gotten used to the taste of their own body by now, but their parents had left a horrid knot in their stomach. Maybe just knowing who the flesh belonged to was the problem. It’s not like they’d had anything inside them for years, all they knew was the taste of flesh and blood, so they doubted it was taste. Would they even be able to eat something else at this point? Or would they continue to be forced to eat their own body.

There is nothing wrong.

There is nothing wrong.

There is nothing wrong.

The feeling of blood pouring down their hand was the next thing they noticed, shards of broken glass sticking out of their stitched up skin. They look down at it with an empty expression, pulling the glass out piece by and dropping it into the sink, however they do keep one shard in their hand, bringing down to their thigh before making line after line into their flesh, as if hoping maybe it’d make their body feel like their own again. Scars cause by their own hands once more rather than their parents. A way to reclaim their own autonomy. To reclaim their body as their own.

There is nothing wrong.

They drop the shard eventually, feeling the wet blood soaking into their shorts as their hand shakes and trembles. Something about that was still disturbing to them even without the pain. Taking a few breaths to try and calm down, they turn on their heel and head out of the bathroom, eventually managing to to find the front door, fumbling with the lock before shoving it open, nearly tripping over themself as they stepped outside. They knew the mere sight of them would be enough to worry anyone passing by. The sight of a fourteen year old completely drenched in blood, their entire body trembling in panic and disgust towards themself, and hand bleeding heavily would be enough to worry anyone.

There is nothing wrong.

They continue running down the street, their bare feet hitting the ground in quick steps, continuing to run until their legs gave out from under them, sending them crashing to the ground. Luckily they didn’t feel the pain from it, but they could feel the knee of their sock starting to get damp from blood, them having scraped their knee pretty badly on collision. Another wound added to their mangled body.

There is nothing-

“Hey, you alright kid?”

They jump, hesitating for a moment before looking up towards the voice, it coming from a tall man, his hair tied into a low ponytail. He had tons for piercings from what Niku could tell, as well as tattoos on his arms and neck which definitely caught their attention. He seemed worried too, which confused them a lot. They’d never seen someone look at them like that before. It made their chest feel strange.

“Shoot, sorry for scaring you, kiddo,” the man says, kneeling down to get more onto their level, seeming to be trying not to scare them more. No one had ever worried about that before.

“You have anywhere to go kid? Can bring you back to my place if you’d be comfortable with it,” the man says, taking his coat off to wrap around their trembling shoulders. Something about him felt.. so weirdly safe to them.

It wouldn’t hurt to go with him…

[aswallowssong]

Sicktember 2024 #1: “I’m not hungover, I’m just sick.”

Did @starstwinkleplanetsshine and I create a Heroes of Olympus College AU of our Heroes of Olympus AU? Of course we did. If you haven't read her Daughter of the Sea in the base AU, you can read it on AO3 here!

Percy was decently sure he had been fine when he went to bed.

He and Angie had had one of their Twin Nights, which sometimes meant drinking and going out, and sometimes meant staying in and eating takeout and watching old movies they'd watched as kids.

They’d done the latter, snuggling in Angie's bed and watching Atlantis while wondering back and forth if they would be able to swing a trip back home for Estelle's third birthday. Tickets were pricey, and they hadn't been planning on going home for Spring Break, but their mom had said something about it to them the last time she'd called, and they knew it wasn't her intention, but it made them both feel sort of bad.

Not that Percy was thinking about that anymore. He'd gotten home around midnight, hoping that he would be able to sleep in and enjoy a Saturday without having to be in the pool at six in the morning.

His body, it turned out, had other ideas. Instead of sleeping blissfully into the late morning, he was knelt on the bathroom floor while his body tried to turn itself inside out. 

It had come out of nowhere, and if he was honest. He was lucky he'd even made it to the bathroom before he started puking. He'd gone from a dead sleep to awake and moving too quickly, and it had done nothing good for the other things that had started to become apparent as he knelt there, praying to any god that would listen for it to stop.

The dizziness had come second, or, at least the realization of it had. He hadn't even noticed that being dizzy was the reason he'd nearly gone careening to the floor when he'd scrambled out of bed. Coupled with how cold he was, enough to run awful chills up and down his back, and the awful full-body ache that had settled in, he had to be realistic.

He was sick. Not just “under the weather” either, like Annabeth sometimes said, but truly and properly ill.

It wasn’t long, maybe five minutes and a few rounds of hell, before Annabeth pushed the door the rest of the way open and flicked on the lights.

To say they were murder on his throbbing head, add that to the list, would be an understatement, but he was relieved not to be alone. Especially since about a minute before, he’d rocked forward so hard to heave that he’d whacked his head on the porcelain.

“God, Perce, what the fuck.”

Mad? was as far as his brain got before he was reeling again, but he didn’t feel her hand on his back, comforting him like he wanted.

Why was she mad? Was she mad that he was sick? He knew that she had midterms coming up, and really couldn’t afford to get sick herself, and that he had a ridiculously flighty immune system compared to her rock-solid one, but she wasn’t normally hostile to him.

“Huh?” he managed, holding his head between his hands while his elbows rested on their toilet seat. He squinched his eyes shut, reaching out a hand that was shaking way too badly and trying to find the handle to flush his stomach away.

Annabeth’s hand swatted at his, and she flushed the toilet, shifting her weight back again to cross her arms.

“Why do you do this?”

She’s mad you’re sick, again, his dizzy, pounding brain chided him. He, Leo, and Jason had passed a cold back and forth most of the winter, and he’d gotten over it for maybe the fifth time just the week before.

“I…” he started, and then stopped to stifle a gag into his fist. “I’m sorry,” he eventually rasped. “I know it’s annoying–”

“You have to stop drinking so much when you go out with Angie,” she said, frustration heavy in her voice. “It sucks that I have to deal with the aftermath of you two deciding to overindulge in whatever you decide is the ‘drink of the night.’ I have drafts to work on today, and that second interview this week that I need to prepare for. I don’t have time to deal with you hungover all day.”

It was as if the wild spinning of his head and stomach stopped for a moment. Which, would have been nice, except he realized why Annabeth was so angry. She thought he’d decided to get fucked up with his sister, not that he was sick.

Which, his stomach reminded him, settling back into heavy nausea with a painful cramp, was very much the case. 

He was about to tell her as much when he was sent over the bowl again, retching violently enough to nearly make him hit his head again, which he would have if he hadn’t blocked it with his hand. 

It was a minute before his body let him rest, and he pushed backward enough that his back hit the wall, letting it bear his weight as he dipped his head between his knees. Somewhere in his fever-brain, he recalled Cady making him do that when he was really dizzy and nauseous, but he couldn’t come up with anything else that might have helped.

Annabeth was still standing in the doorway, he could feel her presence there, and he heard himself whine before rasping, “Beth–”

“I don’t want to hear it, Percy. Seriously–”

“Beth, I– I’m not hungover,” he pleaded, closing his eyes so he didn’t feel like he was seasick. Or, airsick. It was worse that he’d ever felt on a plane, though. He definitely hadn’t been this sick in a long while. “I’m not hungover, I’m just sick.”

It was quiet for a moment before Annabeth said quietly, “Bullshit.”

“I sw–swear,” he pleaded. “Angie and I didn’t even drink last night. We decided we’re trying to save–” He took a breath, trying to steady himself so his voice would stop shaking so badly. “Money. To go see Stellie for her birthday.”

Silence hung in the bathroom again, though Percy nearly didn’t notice. It felt like nausea was pulling him under in waves, and it was hard to focus.

Then, there was a freezing hand on the back of her neck, and he heard her sigh.

“Fuck,” she whispered, and then her hand was gone, and he started to hear her move.

He couldn’t focus very long on where she’d gone or what she was doing, because no sooner had the thought come to ask her that he was sick again, and everything in his brain was focused on not falling over while he dry heaved miserably, nothing left in his system for him to throw up.

How long she was gone was a mystery, but he was slouched over the bowl, his forehead resting on his forearm, waiting to be sick again, when she came back.

“Perce? Honey, can you sit up?”

All the frustration was gone, and pity had taken it’s place. Percy didn’t even care, he was so relieved she wasn’t mad at him anymore. He took a shaky breath and sat up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t set the world spinning even more than it already was.

He blinked his eyes open. Annabeth was a little blurry, since he wasn’t wearing his contacts, but the look on her face was clear enough. He must have looked awful.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and she shushed him, pushing his bangs back and resting her hand on his forehead.

“No, hon, I’m sorry,” she said, her frown deepening. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to that without figuring out what was going on, I’m just so stressed out with other things that I let them take over.” She was still frowning, moving her hand to cup his cheek. “That fever’s awful.”

“I feel awful,” he said, letting himself lean into the coolness of her hand. “Everything hurts and I’m so nauseous.”

“I know, honey.” Annabeth rubbed her thumb over his cheek before biting her lip. “Do you think you can get up from here? I know you prefer the couch to the bed while you’re vomiting so I moved your pillow and the quilt your mom made you out there.”

“But, you draft at the table,” he said, blinking at her slowly and trying not to let anxiety start in his chest. He really didn’t want to throw up anymore, but he knew he wouldn’t be so lucky. “It’ll be distracting to try to draft while I’m puking out there.”

“Honey, I’m not drafting today,” she said simply, and even blurry, he could see in her eyes that she meant it. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“Cady takes care of us when we’re sick,” he said automatically. Annabeth wasn’t really the caretaking type. Every so often she would, but he knew she didn’t love it, and it didn’t come easily to her. Usually, when he was sick, they called Cady, and she came over and dealt with him so Annabeth could still get things done. That, or she shuttled him over to her and Angie’s apartment, where he stayed on the couch until he was good to come back home.

Annabeth didn’t have time to be sick. She had so many amazing and important projects she was working on. He couldn’t take her away from them because he had what was probably a nasty stomach virus from hell itself.

Still, she was looking at him with such earnest determination that he might have fallen in love with her all over again.

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging simply. “But, maybe I want to. You’re mine.”

He nodded, a weak smile crossing his face, and let her pull him off the floor.

[starrclownshazbinblog]

Mimzy facts or hcs pls 👀

(Okay so there will be less facts but that's because these facts are longer and have a lot more lore.)

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

(Triggerwarning for Eating disorders, fatphobia, sexual assult, and other disgusting topics. Please be warned. Mimzy's story is fucked up.)

Mimzy is someone who is always sick. Mimzy hates her body. Growing up in the 1900's and being a young woman in 1915-1920, being fat was not acceptable. She was constantly made fun of publicly and privately. (Incase you were wondering, the ideal body type for woman in the 20's was very skinny and very straight. Flappers would actually bind their chests to make their boobs smaller.) Mimzy, being a fat short woman, has alot of curves and bigger chest. This made being a flapper alot harder. This mockery and resentment made Mimzy want to be "beautiful". She is constantly on diets, she works out all the time, she's barely eats anything. If she happens to eat a healthy meal then 30 minutes later Mimzy is over the toilet making herself puke. Mimzy hates her body and wants to change it. Because she's so sick, she's also really tired all the time.

Mimzy is not a pleasant person when you first met her. She is crabby and snappy. If you stick around you'll see how sweet and caring she actually is.

Mimzy is a amazing singer and piano player. (That's why she's a siren. Also she robs bad men.)

Mimzy was murdered by her manager. When Mimzy began to take off, her manager began to get harsher and meaner. More practice, more drinking, more diets. Her manager then tried to make Mimzy sleep with him. Mimzy is a sex repulsed asexual. She refused. It didn't end well. He was never prosecuted.

Mimzy doesn't trust alot of men, with good reason. The only men she really trusts is Angel, Alastor, and Husk. She hates Valentino. Absolutely despises him. She neutral on Vox.

Mimzy is unaware of Alastor's crush on her. She doesn't believe that anyone could love someone like her. Oh wrong she is.

Alastor actually made Mimzy's costume she wears now. The costume she feel in hell in was super reveling (her manager made her wear it), tore up, and Mimzy never liked it. When she met Alastor, one of the first people she met, he made a outfit SHE liked. She's worn it ever since.

Mimzy really likes flowers. Roses are her favorite. You can tell by her costume.

Mimzy is a big girls girl. She's a feminist that has fought for woman's rights for YEARS, in her human life and demon life.

Mimzy has a less dramatic view like Alastor on Charlie's Hotel. She doesn't believe that Charlie can get them to heaven, but she's willing to try.

Mimzy really likes Valerie. She she's alot of herself in Valerie and knows what it's like to be abused by men.

Mimzy takes Valerie out to do fun things sometimes. Shopping, cafes, parks. Whatever Valerie wants to do.

Mimzy is a social butterfly. She'll talk to anyone she trusts for hours.

Mimzy has sung on Alastor's radio broadcasts. When she first opened her Jazz Club she didn't know how to advertise her jazz club. Alastor suggested that she sing on his broadcast so people would know how beautiful of a singer she is. People showed up slowly to the jazz club after that broadcast. (Alastor threatened some of them.)

Mimzy is a particular smoker. She hates alcohol, absolutely despises it.

Sorry that there isn't alot of facts like the others. Hope the information makes up for it.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[stardust948]

[Frenemies AU]

Reality T.V. arc part 2

*Kya and Ursa pulling Ozai off Hakoda*

Ursa: Alright! Alright! That phone conversation never happened!!!

Ozai: I saw it!

Kya: I need some more pink lemonade.

Hakoda: That conversation between me and Ursa was fake!

Ozai: You offered to tickle her tummy!

Hakoda: I was talking to a puppy!

Ursa: I was ordering a pizza!

Ozai to Ursa: How does he know you like having your tummy tickled?!

Hakoda: Everyone likes having their tummy tickled!

Kya: It's true. Sometimes I do it to myself.

Ursa: The producers took two different phone calls and cut them together.

Ozai: I want to hear that from them!

___

T.V. producers: Yeah we took two different phone calls and cut them together. Cool right?

Hakoda: Cool?! He almost killed me!

Ozai: I wouldn't have actually killed you.

Hakoda: Aren't you sweet.

Kya: Isn't this supposed to be a reality show.

T.V. producers: Yeah.

Ursa: But that phone call wasn't real.

T.V. producers: Of course not. Nothing's real on reality T.V. Our job is to entertain. That's what you go to school here for right?

Hakoda: Yeah...

T.V. producers: Then think of it like a play or movie but without a script. Like improv.

Hakoda: Well you could have told us before the attempted murder!

Ozai: Ugh don't be so dramatic.

T.V. producers: No, be more dramatic. And the next time you two fight can you call us so we can get it on video? Or maybe you can reenact it now?

*Hakoda and Ozai look at each other*

Hakoda: Action.

Ozai: *smirks*

(Starts fighting dramatically as the camera films)

___

*Later*

Ursa: There's no reason the guys should have all the screen time.

Kya: So, what are you suggesting?

Ursa, sees the T.V. producers coming: Follow my lead.

Ursa: Unbelievable!

Kya: No you're unbelievable! You always have to make a big deal out of nothing!

T.V. producers: Keep going!

Ursa: You trashed my beach house!

Kya: You said I could use it!

Ursa: I didn't say people can puke on my carpet and make soup in my toilet!

Kya: It was a beach party! What did you think was going to happen?!

Ursa: Who put my dog in a wedding dress?!

Kya: It was hilarious!

Ursa: You know what?! This friendship is over!

Kya: Eat a rag!

Ursa: You eat two rags!

Ursa, to the crew: How was that?

T.V. producers: Great work!

Kya: We'll get you more stuff later.

___

Hakoda: Wow, they were great.

Ozai: We can do better.

Hakoda: Whatcha got?

Ozai: Ok, what if what if the janitor got us in trouble and we got so angry we took it out on his car?

Hakoda: We can't trash the janitor's car. He got us those candy apples for Omashu day.

Ozai: We don't trash his real one! My brother works at the junk yard on weekends. We get him to drop off a junk car and wreck that one.

Hakoda: And say it's the janitor's car.

Ozai: *gasp* Wow I wish I thought of that. Oh right I did.

Hakoda: *rolls eyes*

Ozai: Wait, that janitor didn't get me a candy apple for Omashu day.

Hakoda: He didn't?

Ozai: *shake head*

Hakoda: HA.

___

Ozai: There's the car. Is the camera crew coming?

Hakoda: Yep.

Hakoda, grabbing a golf club: Time to fake some reality T.V.

Ozai: Action.

Ozai, to the camera: This is what happens when the janitor gets us in trouble!

*Both destroy the car*

Jeong Jeong: WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY CAR!!!

Hakoda: Your car?!

Piandao: What is going on here?! What did you do to Jeong Jeong's car?!

Hakoda: You said your brother dropped off a junk car for us to destroy on camera!

Ozai: Yeah. He must have meant that one. *points to another car in the parking lot*

Hakoda: Aw man! We abused the wrong car!

Piandao, to the producers: Alright T.V. people out!

T.V. producers: But we gotta show to make.

Piandao: Then go make it at another school. You're done here.

T.V. producers: You can't kick us out?

Piandao: What?! *Grabs Hakoda's club* What?!

T.V. producers: There are other schools. Let's go to one.

Piandao: I'll call a tow truck for you Jeong Jeong.

Jeong Jeong: How am I going to get home?

Piandao, looking at the boys: Don't worry. I'll get you a ride home.

(Hakoda and Ozai glances at each other nervously)

___

*Hakoda and Ozai pushing Jeong Jeong in a wheel-barrel*

Jeong Jeong: This is so slow.

Hakoda: C'mon it isn't that bad.

Jeong Jeong: My car has radio.

Ozai: So what do you want us to do about it?!

Jeong Jeong: Sing me a song.

Both: *sigh* 🎵Secret tunnel. Secret tunnel- 🎵

Jeong Jeong: IN FIRE TONGUE!

(Boys look at each other)

Both: 🎵 Himitsu no ton'neru yama o tōru himitsu no ton'neru 🎵

Part 1

[hannahbanana29]

newjeans' Danielle x fem!r

Get to know you better pt.3

I haven't been on Tumblr for so long... And in the middle of a series no less 🤧 but I got notified abt a reblog of my first post for this series, and the user mentioned they were so excited for this and I couldn't just NOT get back on Tumblr 😍 thank you to that person 💗💗💗 sorry for not being here in so long lmao 😭

**sneak peek**: "I don't think I'm even very drunk. You're just this cute."

Chapter THREE: Little Sips

Danielle was murdering you.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she talked and the way she looked at you. Her mannerisms, her accent, her upbeat personality... All of it was designed and built to just make you stop breathing.

Currently, Minji was helping Danielle get changed into the pajamas in the downstairs toilet, and you were stood awkwardly in the living room, thinking about the drunken girl. Her scent lingered in your nose like her face lingered in your brain, and you felt like it was going to stay there forever. You didn't mind.

When Minji's voice became louder, you knew they'd left the toilet by that point. The two girls walked into the living room, and Minji looked at you. You'd been watching Danielle, who was dressed in a silky top and flowy pajama pants, and you prayed that Minji didn't catch or suspect anything of your staring.

"Sorry again, Y/N. We'll be quieter in my room. You just get your sleep, we'll see you tomorrow." Minji patted your head like you were a dog, and you frowned. Minji was obviously a bit tipsy herself, but apparently in enough sense to take care of both her and Danielle.

"Don't worry about it", you nod, "I'll see you guys in the morning."

As the two older girls walk upstairs, you watch Danielle follow Minji. She turns around, shocking you a bit, and smiles and waves at you.

"G'night, Y/N-ie. Thanks for being so nice!"

The way she talks is so genuine and sweet and your heart was rotting from all the sugar Danielle's voice consisted of. She was so... So... She was just a sunshine. She was brightening everything up, in a house you'd lived in for years and had become so familiar with. And suddenly, you loved everything about it when Danielle was inside.

Not able to function, you just blink and nod quickly. "Y-yeah. Cool."

It wasn't the smartest thing you'd said all year.

You watched Danielle until she'd disappeared from your eyesight upstairs, and you sighed. It was probably that time where you had to take yourself to bed, too. But as you trudged up the same steps Danielle had walked on, you imagined her holding your wrist, tugging you up on your own drunken night out. Like she was looking after you, lending you pajamas and making sure you were alright.

Sleep came to you a bit more easily, now that you'd seen Danielle again. Maybe you just had to see her a second time, to make sure she was real, and that's why you could not sleep earlier.

But your rest didn't last very long.

You woke up groggily at about 4:30 in the morning, and you literally groaned aloud to yourself as you did. Your head was beginning to ache at the way it wouldn't just turn off for at least a few more hours, but then you heard something outside of your bedroom.

At first, you were petrified, because the noise sounded a lot like... vomiting. And naturally, in your sleepy state, your first thoughts were that Minji was puking up in the bathroom and you had to help her as soon as you could.

You stood up from your bed, and as your body was tired and unused to standing, you got a bit of a headrush. A dizzying array of lights clouded your vision, but you managed to make your way to your door to open it and walk towards the vomiting. It was coming from the upstairs bathroom.

The light wasn't on, and although you didn't want to cause your older sister Minji any discomfort by blinding her, you switched it on so that you could see properly. You knelt down behind her body, and held her dark hair back as she was struggling to keep it out of the way.

But then you realised...

"D-Danielle?"

Your heart leapt up into your throat at the realisation. You'd hardly remembered Danielle was in your house at all - you'd forgotten very briefly that you even met her - and here she was, vomiting in her bathroom as you held her hair back.

When she was done being sick, she covered her mouth and wiped it with the back of her hand. She turned around, shifting carefully as to not trigger any more puking, and she looked up at you. It was sort of alarming, as you hadn't looked into her gorgeous, round eyes for a bit of time and even when she was half-asleep and being sick, they looked beautiful.

"Hi Y/N... Sorry for, uhm, waking you up."

~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~

You and Danielle were now downstairs, and she was sat at a high stool by the island of the kitchen. You'd handed her a bucket to vomit in if needed, and she'd given you a grateful smile and 'thank you' in response. All your stupid mouth said back was 'okay'. You cringed internally at yourself, and just went to make you both a drink each.

Danielle had told you she had a headache, so you pulled out some painkillers to treat her pain. Her drink was the same as before, iced water, and yours was a cup of tea/coffee. You gently placed her glass in front of her, a scared that you might drop it or set it down loudly. That's how hyper-aware you'd become in her presence.

"H-here." You said, so that she would lift her head and take it.

Danielle started with a series of quick gulps, so you instinctively stopped her by placing a hand on the cup. Well, you'd meant to do that, so you could pull it away from her face, but your hand actually went on hers. You snatched your own hand back, as if her touch had scolded you, and you ignored the tingly feeling in your fingers.

"Danielle, wait. Just...little sips." You advised.

She took your suggestion and drank less quickly, realising you wouldn't want her to vomit again. She saves some of her drink to take some of the painkillers with it, and you helped her break them up into smaller pieces for her to swallow.

As you were focused on that, she laughed softly. You instantly turned red, scared she was giggling at you for some negative reason. You couldn't even speak, and just hummed to prompt her to explain what she found amusing.

"Sorry, Y/N-ie." She apologised, covering her mouth politely. "Just... I find it very endearing that you're looking after me like this. That's all."

You blinked. The word 'endearing' stuck in your head for a minute, clouding up the test of your thoughts. You kept your eyes on Danielle's for a bit of time, before awkwardly nodding your head. Like you agreed or something. You could physically feel the blush creep up your neck from both embarrassment and butterflies.

"So..." She said, seemingly wanting to talk.

You stayed silent, sitting down at the island with her. You didn't realise how your hand was shaking a tiny bit until Danielle looked at it herself, though she didn't acknowledge it. As you hid your hand away, you watched her attentively for what she had to say.

"I'm actually really grateful. I was worried about my impression on you... because I didn't know how it would look for me to come back to your house, wake you up, stay overnight and then wake you up once again because I was vomiting. And you're being really nice."

Her words, every syllable, was still on your mind after she'd said the next few words. You couldn't explain the feeling very well, but you knew what it was: it was every romance novel you'd read late at night and kicked your feet to; it was every cheesy song that made you feel too single to even listen to it; it was every interaction between Romeo and Juliet in your head.

It was just your heart racing in her presence.

"That's... It's okay. I don't mind you being here." You said quietly.

She giggled again, not hiding it as much this time. She leaned a little bit closer, her dazzling eyes maintaining their gaze in yours.

"I don't think I'm even very drunk. You're just this cute." She said, almost cheekily.

You turned bright red, and looked upstairs as though to see if Minji was about to come down and interrupt you guys now that Danielle had said that. You took a deep breath and processed what she said to you. Unlike when she said you were pretty, she was now less drunk and had said it to you directly, with the intention of you hearing it.

Those words were meant for you. They were little, just like the little sips Danielle had to take before she was able to drink more easily. But you were suddenly looking forward to the other little sips of water she'd be giving you as the night continued onto morning.

[newwwwusername]

Chicago (2002 Movie) - Velma/Roxie - Pride Month Prompt 7 : Internalized Homophobia

Warning : Alcohol use, vomiting Prompt : In which either a gay male character or a lesbian character struggles with internalized homophobia and either their partner or a friend helps them Headcanons : Bi!Roxie, Lesbian!Velma

Once they were touring together, it was pretty inevitable that Roxie and Velma would end up fucking.

Sure enough, a few weeks in, they both got super plastered after a show and suddenly Velma's hand was down the blonde's pants and it only went downhill from there.

The next morning, Roxie woke up and was suddenly overcome with disgust at what she and the other woman had done.

"Oh, shit" she breathed out as she realized. Velma, ever the light sleeper, woke up at the first word.

"I have the worst fucking headache" she complained, not yet realizing the crisis her... Business partner was currently experiencing.

"Shit, shit, shit" Roxie repeated a few times before rushing to the bathroom of the hotel they were staying in and vomiting into the toilet. Not because of the alcohol, though.

"You good in there?" Velma called out halfheartedly as she got up and wobbled into the kitchen to get water and make breakfast.

"Fuck off!" Roxie called back. Velma rolled her eyes, still not catching onto the fact that Roxie was panicking.

It wasn't until Roxie left the bathroom that she fully took in how disheveled and freaked out the woman was.

"You okay?"

"What the fuck did we do last night!?"

"What didn't we do is the real question..."

"Velma, I'm serious!"

"We fucked" Velma told her bluntly and Roxie looked about ready to puke again. "Chill out, blondie. You're perfectly decent in bed"

"I can't... We can't-"

"It won't happen again if you don't want it to" Velma reassured her as she looked over the eggs she had in the pan. "Fuck, I think these might be a little burnt"

"I'm not supposed to... You're a girl, and-"

"Are you okay with burnt eggs?"

"Are you even listening to me!?" Roxie asked, pissed off. Velma looked at her again, her expression unreadable.

"What do you think is so bad about us having sex?" Velma asked her, though she didn't seem particularly judgmental. "Seriously, blondie. You've fucked plenty of people before"

"No girls"

"So?" Velma asked. "No one saw us. We're fine"

"But, I'm not supposed to-"

"You murdered your side piece and having sex with a girl is where you draw the line?" Velma asked, laughing slightly. Roxie went quiet. "Seriously, Rox. You're fine" she tried to assure to the best of her ability. Luckily, Roxie seemed to be calming down slightly. "Now get back in bed. I fucked you I might as well be a good one-night-stand and serve you breakfast like a gentleman"

"No man's ever done that before..."

"Well, I'm not a man, sweet pea" Velma replied with a slick smile. "Seriously, go back to bed before I drag you there"

"Yes, ma'am"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 30 LGBT-centered prompts that you can find here

[myriadparacosm]

Modern AU with Regulus Coroner and Detective James

Just a small one-shot because I got an intense brainworm from my post about this cliché (:

My AO3

Warning: Horror

There is an anomaly. Regulus wants to say that it is in his life because the lab’ is his and in a logical way his life but as Evan likes to remind him: he wouldn’t want to deal with everything else outside from the corpses he examines.

Regulus could perfectly work anywhere if he wants to. They both know it but it’s true that Regulus wouldn’t enjoy the management, employees and so on, despite his upbringing that made him fit, and deserving, of a position of power and not— an employee as he might appear on paper. Still, since the anomaly is always showing in his territory then this makes it Regulus’ and should leave him any right on how to deal with it.

“Can you-” The voice dries, chokes, with no politeness despite the obvious try. “Holy crap. Don’t show it to me.”

His anomaly is obnoxious and very chatty even though it’s thrown in an environment that only disturbs him. It should have gotten used to it by now; especially with how often it gravitates toward Regulus who perhaps is not near dead bodies only when he goes to the toilet.

“This?” He asks and fakes a perfect innocence with his eyebrows as he presents the skull in his hand with a lot of flesh still holding on.

He has to admit that it’s not a pretty one as whoever killed this woman tried to cover it with various things. A piece of flesh falls off with a loud splash but his eyes are still on the ever-prying anomaly who showed up with coffees and a bag of pastries.

“Oh God.”

“Potter, you better not puke in here or you will end up like this woman.”

James Potter snorts. He tries to look at him but he needs to quickly glance away because of the corpse beside Regulus. Thankfully he manages to not let anything fall as he hastily puts down the paper bag and the coffees on a small table.

“I’m not,” he assures as if his usual warm, soft-looking, skin hasn’t completely lost colour in a worrying way.

Regulus scoffs but at least he doesn’t have James’ eyes on him anymore. “Why do you come here anyway? It only just arrived.” He has his suspicions of course, but it’s better to ignore them whenever it’s about this man.

“Well it’s my case.”

It’s his usual excuse and more than often he can’t stand the sight of the victims - which isn’t a bad thing as James is perfectly capable in his job, which doesn’t require him to check on Regulus and the bodies as he would be informed the second they have any informations about any of them.

“Yes I know, you brought her here.”

“It’s a woman?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t have much yet outside that it’s obviously human work by the state of it; someone definitely tried to make her disappear which always calls for a murder. “Why are you cluttering my space?” He asks with a pointed look at what he brought.

“Coffee, you like coffee.”

“I like caffeine,” he deadpans, isolating another part of the flesh to study it further.

“And I brought something to eat,” James adds with his cheer slowly coming back. He is staring at the documents rather than where Regulus is working. “Can’t let you work with an empty stomach.”

“Does this look like a place where I would eat?”

This time their eyes meet. It’s definitely not right that Regulus enjoys the squirm building up in James’ eyes but he finds it fascinating to see when it becomes too much for him to handle. People keep saying that he should cut him some slack since they are co-workers, or partners as Potter likes to say with a wink, but Regulus only agreed to help the investigations by looking at the corpses. He never thought this included a detective who likes to walk in to watch him work and throw up here and then.

“Oh right,” he whispers, horrified, and his eyes pause on the corpse before flying back to his presents. “Shit I didn’t thi-”

“I could eat,” Regulus says, smirking when Potter’s focus sharpens on him, just to watch him squirm. “But I can’t compromise the evidence with food or liquids around like that.”

He grimaces, glancing at the paper bag and him. “You could eat here? With— like right now? With the smell?”

“Really Potter, you’re the only one bothered. Just put this in my office,” he asks because he is going to plunge his hands any minute in the poor woman and James won’t handle the sight.

“Oh sure, I will wait for you there.”

“Potter.”

James beams at him. “Yes?”

“Would you mind dropping these to Pandora for her to analyse them?” He gestures to the part he has isolated for further study in separate containers.

It’s mostly flesh, bloody, and James is clearly disgusted by the idea. He warily glances at Regulus who keeps his face perfectly professional. James always tugs at his childishness, which is always a surprise, but the teasing is so easy and satisfying.

“The…”

“There is a piece of the stomach and parts that are unusual but I still have a lot to do here.” He gestures with his dirty gloves at the table where the corpse lay. “You do want to figure out what happened to her and who did it, right?”

James can’t stop the pained grimace but he nods and takes the paper bag between his teeth, takes the two coffee in one hand and awkwardly shuffles closer to accept the samples in the other one. He tries really hard to not look at what he is transporting but his nose wrinkles. Regulus pities him, though he is sure that James can handle this simple quest, so he rewards him with an almost smile. His warm eyes are stuck on him for far longer than necessary so he clears his throat and gestures at him to go.

Whatever James tries to say is muffled by the paper bag in his mouth, which he could have easily carried any other way, but he doesn’t try again and quickly walks out with a hand as far away from him as possible.

Regulus does not let his eyes fall on James’ ass but he can easily picture it. He shakes his head with a huff and hopes that the heat on his cheeks is only a feeling and not noticeable. James always leaves him with that feeling of not being quite conscious and everything hits him with the first breath once he is away from his aura. It’s not entirely unpleasant but he is relieved to be left alone.

He is still surprised that they are still working together. James, as benevolent and tenacious as he is, should have never ended up anywhere near Regulus’ world. Before taking cases of murders, he has only worked to find the missing persons which brought a missing child found dead, who has shown many signs of abuse and rape proved by Regulus’ work and thus dug up a nasty human trafficking. That’s how they crossed paths despite how James avoids the gruesome sights of death. He is a great detective from what Regulus has heard, and seen, which has only been proved every time they solved a case together.

Though James doesn’t appear to need a reason to drop by since he has been doing it for many months now. He has become used to the sight of skeletons and bones once they are cleaned but the rest still disgusts him and yet he always drops by Regulus’ lab. Thrice he threw up and only the last two times were aimed at a garbage can; it had been the early days and most people aren’t as comfortable with this environment as Regulus is.

There is nothing to fear from dead people.

It takes him longer than he thought to finish the first round of inspection on the dead woman and he sends more things for them to be analysed before finally going back to his office. James is up and ready, greeting him like usual, and explains that he kept the coffee heated up by using the small boiler in there. He mentions that the pastries are still great but are better to be eaten right away before the chocolate cools down.

Regulus is all about finding evidence, the history and identifying the dead persons and James can be of help sometimes but not often compared to his colleagues. Except that he likes to talk about the case and give all the details to Regulus. He does have helpful insights from time to time but more than often he lets James have the chance to talk. It’s a bit of a weird process when Regulus thinks about it but he also doesn’t quite want to change it. If James needs someone listening to him to help him think, there are a lot of people around for that. Regulus seems to be his favourite choice ever since they started to work together.

James’ jaw is very much appealing, far too much, and Regulus lets him ramble as he scrutinises the stubble that must have appeared overnight. It suits him terribly and Regulus wants to touch it. James, despite his awful eyesight without glasses, catches him staring at some point and asks him, with his ever-grin, what is on his mind. Regulus lies without a problem and decides it’s time to get back to work if he has shared everything about the case.

He smiles at Regulus as if he knows something more but he doesn’t wait on it since his cheeks are flushing and goes back to work. James is probably busy because he doesn’t come back at all during the day. Regulus gets a text from him with his thoughts on the suspects and about the results the lab’ sent him earlier. He only checks it at the end of the day as he finishes in his office.

James: I bet by tomorrow we will have the murderer arrested thanks to our brilliant and pretty genius.

Regulus scowls and turns his phone screen down to try to ignore the text. It lasts for a second before he reads it again with flaming cheeks and a scowl that does nothing to fight off the smile on his face.

Regulus: I sure hope you aren’t talking about me.

James: Do you know any other handsome genius around here?

Still think you’re pretty though

This man has no shame and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere Regulus’ space anymore. He might throw the next bone or flesh at him for that comment.

Regulus: I will make a deal with the murderer to get rid of you just for that comment

“Reggie, you got a gift,” Pandora sing-songs and laughs when he startles in his seat. “I bet it’s from the same person making you blush over texts.”

“I’m not blushing,” he huffs out and clears his throat as he tries to get his face to go back to its usual blankness. “What is it?”

She chuckles at his face and sits at the other side of his desk to hand him a small box covered in shiny wrapping paper. “Smells like chocolate. James is very romantic so I’m not surprised.”

Regulus eyes the box and shakes it a bit to guess by the rattle what might be inside it. It does smell like chocolate. “It doesn’t have to be him.”

“Reggie, you’re very dashing and many people look at you but not many are brave enough to talk to you and even less flirt. It has to be James— oh maybe now you can call him by his name like he has been begging you to do for the last months. It looks pretty expensive. Just like the other gifts you have been receiving.”

“I do not buy and send gifts to myself like Barty said,” he says because her voice edges into something silly and childish. Though it’s a bit strange that James, or whoever else, is sending them at his workplace rather than his home. If it was James then he would know his address.

It’s been perhaps two months since he has been regularly receiving gifts almost every week. They are all somewhat romantic and cliche - which could fit with James’ persona but Regulus is still weirded out that he never mentioned or signed them. A large bouquet of roses, bath products and expensive lotions, a poem, a mix-tape on a CD and even a watch somehow ended up for him. They are all expensive but it doesn’t quite charm him.

The poem and the mix-tape are more personal but even then Regulus doesn’t find anything interesting - he would honestly be surprised if they are from James but no one is perfect and their tastes are probably very different. All of his friends are convinced it’s from him and Regulus is conflicted at the idea. The expensive watch is left in its box as he doesn’t really like the feeling of something constricting his wrists and the lotions just smell wrong - James has commented on the vanilla scent on his hair before so he should know better to buy what Regulus prefers.

The box is only addressed to him: Regulus Black. There is no real hint to guess from who it might be. He hesitates to check his phone where James must have answered to him already because he apparently has nothing better to do in his life than text him.

“You can’t be sure. It’s anonymous which means it could be from anyone,” he says as he tears the wrapping paper off. “And we only work together so why should I call him by his name.”

“You call me by my name and we work together. Also Evan. And Barty. Even if he doesn’t really work here, he is always in Evan’s office or under his desk.”

“I don’t want to picture what’s going on in his office and even less where Barty hides,” he huffs with a disgusted noise. “And you’re special Pandora, that’s why.”

She blinks at him before beaming, leaning forward to watch him open the unmistakable box of chocolate. “More special than James Potter?”

“Obviously,” he replies easily and returns her smile before frowning at the sweets. “Wait, these are incredibly expensive and rare to get.”

“Really?” She peeks at the chocolates. “It does smell good.”

“They are from Switzerland.” He offers her the card describing the taste of all the different chocolates like it’s the best-sellers of poetry in French. “I only ate those when we travelled to France to visit family when I was young,” he explains. “They have only one shop in Paris and just to get a box you need to call at least three months before to have a small chance of getting one. It’s been years since I saw one of these.”

“So James went to France or Switzerland to buy these for you?” Pandora asks and picks one to eat it.

“I doubt it. He hasn’t been missing work since he started to bother me. Plus they don’t ship them, I know that because Sirius moaned about it for hours last year for his birthday.”

“They are so good!” She exclaims and works her mouth around the taste, hastily licking her lips with a look at the chocolates. “Which one is your favourite? Just so I don’t eat all of them.”

He distractedly points them out and lets her have her share before retrieving his phone. This gift must have cost a lot and the whole ordeal to even get them here must have been a pain in the ass. No one in their circle has travelled to France either and Regulus isn’t even sure that he told about these chocolates to other people outside of Sirius. There are memories better left forgotten.

He doesn’t open the unread message from James yet, playing with his phone as he tries to picture how he might have heard of them. There is still no proof that it’s from him but Regulus certainly hopes so. The last time he ate these chocolates comes back to his mind.

“Oh crap.”

Pandora looks up with one cheek full and licking one of her fingers. “What?”

“My parents.”

She frowns, straightening in her seat with no trace of previous joy or amusement. “Yes?”

“They used to let people write articles about me and Sirius when we were kids,” he recalls. “To show us off as the next brilliant minds of our generation because wealthy people have nothing better to do than cause jealousy and advertise their lives to others.”

“I remember. You were so cute as a child, always pouty and with a frown. Baby Black.”

He throws a small glare. “Well, I remember one Christmas they followed us all the time outside on our ‘family walks’, which of course has never been a real thing, and we went to this chocolate shop to pick a box. They asked me and Sirius if we liked them and why.”

Pandora frowns slightly. “And you think James found this article, bought these for you?”

“I sure hope he didn’t. These articles are awful and I don’t need him to know about my family.”

“Aw, he would still love you.”

Regulus flushes. “Shut it or you won't get any more chocolate.”

She snorts and hands one to him before eating another sweet. It’s still as great as he remembers but he finds himself more focused on his phone.

James: I’m sure even the murderer will agree with me though and I always fight for the truth

Are you mad?

I’m not mocking you, I promise

I won’t call you pretty again if you don’t want me to

Once we finish this case let me buy you dinner!

Anything you want

Really

Regulus shouldn’t enjoy getting so many texts like that. James obviously texts and thinks at the same time, always needing several texts when he could have fit everything in one. His toes curl in his shoes at the idea of dinner with him. It’s not the first time he has offered to buy Regulus dinner - or breakfast or lunch or a snack - and he agreed some rare times because it always leaves him reeling for the rest of the day. James has an effect over him that should be illegal.

“What is he saying?” Pandora playfully whispers.

He purses his lips and taps his finger on the phone as he thinks of an answer. “The usual.”

“Why aren’t you going out with him? Everyone here knows that you like him despite what you say. And I’m convinced that he knows it too.”

“He went out with Lily here before.”

“And? You had exes too. Lily and him are on good terms but just friends.”

“They almost got married and planned to have a child,” Regulus scoffs. “This is not just a random ex.”

“Are you jealous?”

He purses his lips. “No.”

For a time maybe he was. Regulus has known James before they started to work together because everyone likes Lily and talks about her and her fantastic fiance-to-be. There is no clue on why they never got engaged and only came back as friends. James had never come by this area of the laboratory but Regulus has spotted him picking up or dropping Lily off over the years. They were the perfect soulmates and he only allowed himself to trail his eyes over James here and there before focusing on his own life.

Somehow, they work together now and he seems to have taken a liking to pester Regulus one way or another - always flirting or trying to make him laugh which might be the same thing after all.

“You should give him a chance, Reggie. I have a good feeling about it. You would be so cute together.”

“If his taste in music is anything to go by then one of us will die before the third date.”

Pandora grimaces. “Ouch, the mix-tape was that bad?”

“If they are from him. The gifts are expensive but generic,” he explains. “He might have bought it from a random shop really.”

Regulus doesn’t have anything against cliches but outside of the chocolates, nothing is really pleasing him. Which is a bit surprising considering all the details James tries to get from him. He will never be more relieved that Sirius and James never crossed paths when either of them dropped by. They would probably hit off right away and Regulus’ intuition is rarely wrong. Plus Sirius would give all the embarrassing details about him to James without thinking twice.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to come off too strong?” She supposes. “The chocolates are great though, right? Maybe the next ones will be better.”

“Still, it doesn’t mean it’s Potter.”

“You need more faith.”

“You had enough chocolate,” he decides and closes the box despite her distressed gasp.

“Wha- Reggie! Come on, think about it. Why would he come see you in the lab’ all the time when there is more than often a dead body next to you.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but stays quiet. She wouldn’t listen to him either way. The possibility that James comes, despite how uncomfortable he is near the corpses, to just see him is one that already tingles his brain. Still, Potter never truly asked him out on a date; all of it could be out of friendliness. He turns back to his phone.

Regulus: Thoughts on chocolates?

James: Love it

Do you want some?

He squints at his phone but he isn’t really surprised by the answer. There's still no hints whether James is the one sending all these gifts and indulging in the fantasy can be dangerous.

Pandora doesn’t insist and walks out of his office and the building with him, sharing her thoughts on what they have found so far on the corpse. It’s messy and they don’t have much yet but it’s enough to distract him. He leaves James’ text on read and decides that he deserves a night where he stops thinking about feelings and whatnot.

When he is at home, he checks his phone and feels somewhat relieved that James didn’t send another text. Regulus never feels like he is quite on his feet when it comes to him - not quite without gravity but also not down on earth with a full control of himself.

Pandora almost finished the chocolates by herself and he is happy that someone enjoys it. The bad feeling probably comes from all his memories of his childhood, triggered by the sight of this brand. It could also be Pandora’s wishful thoughts about James and him that bums him out. Regulus picks a chocolate to eat and tries to ignore it.

Sirius has sent him a picture himself, clad with his endless leather jacket for good luck, to inform him that he has the hottest date ever tonight. Regulus snorts and opts to reply with a barfing face before taking his shower. He hopes it goes well for him because his brother has been mooning over this date forever. If it’s a disaster, Regulus might just book a trip to stay away from Sirius’ sobs and lament.

Just when he has finished his shower, he is surprised by his front door ringing. Regulus hasn’t ordered anything and he doubts that Sirius decided to drop by before his date. A series of knocks follow and he sighs at the insistence.

“Who is it?” He rolls his eyes and finishes putting on his dark green clothes for the night before walking toward his front door. “Hello?”

It would be crazy and he feels silly at the thought but could it be Potter? He hadn’t answered his last text and he wouldn’t be surprised that he truly believes that Regulus is mad at him and shows up with his favourite take-outs to soothe him like it had happened for long cases. The thought truly pleases him and he catches his reflection blushing on his way to the front door.

“It’s— I’m your neighbor, Mr. Melbourg.”

Regulus frowns in surprise before recalling him. He figures something is wrong and needs help and since he already answered, it would be rude to completely ignore him now.

It’s not he knows. He doesn’t have the time to ask or procede the stun gun plunged into his neck.

Regulus wakes up to the rain on his face. He is uncomfortable but he barely has the strength to blink his eyes open. Wherever he is lying is wet, uneven and the edges dig into him.

He can’t turn his head and his neck seems to burn. He hisses in pain when more drops of water fall on him. His eyes request a long time before offering any proper sight. The rain is scarce but the hole in the roof gives them all the chance to fall down on him.

“Shit,” he hisses out when a drop dives right into his left eye.

Another grunt of pain leaves him as he stubbornly raises a hand to cover his eyes. The wind rattles around him as he realises that he is adorned in a white shirt with long sleeves with dark smudges here and there. His fingers are also coated in a liquid. When the smell of blood catches up to him, Regulus realises that he is not at his apartment anymore.

He sits up as fast as he can despite the torture but he is shot with a wave of nausea and his body slips out of his grasp. His head thrums in pain as he forces himself to get on his elbows and slowly sits up. What he previously wore has been replaced by ivory clothes. The weak lamp near the hole of the roof swings with the wind without giving much light. Regulus can barely discern his whole body and that he is at the bottom in a large hole.

Something cracks beneath him when he tries to stand up. Regulus stares down at his bare feet, wet and cold, before he manages to focus on the decomposed body almost touching him. His breathing starts to panic.

No matter where he looks, there are only corpses. Regulus is sitting in a pit of death and he makes the mistake to look around him to finally realise what just cracked is a bone under him. He hastily tries to get on his feet despite the white noise overwhelming his thoughts.

Regulus stumbles and is too disoriented to make it far, falling back into the rotten meat acting as a floor. There is a small pool of blood, only coming back up where his weight is, but it clings to his skin and clothes. His eyes try to stay afloat but there doesn’t seem to be any exit out of this pit. Everything is cold and the tears clinging to his eyes is the only thing warming him up. He swallows and stands up as best as he can, shaking off the tingling going through his body.

They kidnapped him. Whoever showed up at his house dropped him here and yet he is alive. Everything else around him is dead, with or without flesh, and the blood appears to have been left there to pool. He can’t see what’s underneath it - if the ground is bleeding out from the quantity or they are in something akin to a pool. The walls of the hole are made of dirt. Regulus’ fingers might be able to reach out of it but he doubts that he could hold on to something to drag himself up. His throat is still burning and he cautiously pats it to feel where he was stunned. It’s painful and he is still groggy despite the shot of fear and adrenaline keeping him awake.

It’s worrying that he is still alive. He hopes that his kidnapper isn’t some psychopath eager to watch people become crazy at the bottom of this hole and beg for food and water. No one else is wearing clothes beside him except for two skeletons also dressed in white fancy clothes.

They are laying next to each other with their hands put together. Compared to the other corpses, they are perfectly clean if not shiny, but what catches his attention are the jewelleries and especially one of the rings.

It’s uncomfortable to walk but he rushes to get closer, navigating through the loose bones and flesh, falling on his knees and grunting in pain until he gets closer. With a trembling hand, he grabs the limb of the skeleton in the stark bleached tuxedo to be sure that he isn’t hallucinating. The ring is with no doubt the old relic of the Black’s family. Sirius could have inherited it but refused, just like Regulus did.

“Father?” He whispers, letting go of the hand to look closer at the brooch resting on his chest; exactly what his father used to wear, just like the cufflinks.

What he assumes is his mother has her dedicated necklace and her earrings stapled into the skull. Regulus stays quiet in stupor before noticing that he had been placed beneath and between them, laying in the same way, and he has an uncomfortable feeling about the numerous other corpses under him without any clothes or distinction.

It can’t be their parents. He is sure of that. Sirius and he refused to get them buried, not after they finally escaped them, and just like for their father who died years before their mother - they cremated them and flushed down the toilet.

“They never respected us alive so why should we?” Sirius had said without any kindness as he shook their urns empty.

Regulus’ hand had rested on the flush button, waiting for him to finish. “Because we are better than them?” He had replied, not requesting for a real answer.

Their eyes had met and the last wash of the urn was thrown in the toilet. “Not tonight,” Sirius had declared and Regulus triggered the flush.

It’s not their real corpses but the jewellery can not be random. Whoever prepared them, obviously caring, knew what they were doing with every detail down. Regulus is also dressed in white just like them and it pushes him to quickly distance himself. Whose skeletons are these? They obviously dressed them up as Orion and Walburga Black and it must have cost a fortune to get their hands on these relics. He wouldn’t have known himself how to retrieve them and as their son it would have been probably easy.

He manages to reach a wall, grimacing at the bones breaking painfully under his bare feet with the blood slithering up. The lamp above him is no help so he tries his best by feeling up the dirt and rocks for any escape. It takes him three tries to find the right footing to stretch himself as much as he can and dabble with a hand the surface next to the hole. It’s rough polished stone, nothing he can grab on to, and he can’t see anything standing on any side of the edges.

Amongst the corpses, he doubts he can find anything useful. He could take the clothes off his false parents to tie them together but he doesn’t see what use it would be. The rain continues to peacefully fall through the gape of the roof.

His kidnapper obviously had to come down this hole at some point. The impostors had been cautiously placed, hands together, and Regulus has a suspicion that they clean the bones and polish them just by the look and feeling of it. They must use a ladder but it couldn’t be placed in a safe way with how uneven the floor is thanks to all the water, blood, bones and guts.

Regulus toddles his way through the hole, wishing to find any spot where his footing isn’t wobbly. There is no other sound outside from the cracks, splotches and the rain. He hopes it’s a good sign that this psychopath isn’t around.

Why is he alive? The stun gun could have been a knife and even here, he could have easily been slaughtered and thrown into the pit with the rest of them. He doesn’t hope that his kidnapper assumed that he was dead - it would have been easy to check. The clothes are starting to cling to him and he feels sick at the realisation that he has been changed unconscious. Nothing hurts thankfully but the lack of underwear doesn’t help his imagination.

A rock stands out. It barely is noticeable but Regulus is sticking to the wall to help his walk and so can see that it sticks out. He tries to move it with no result, hopefully a sign that it’s larger than it looks. It’s not far off the ground, meaning he could try to put a foot on it to gain some height, but there isn’t enough surface to have a clear handle.

He takes a deep breath, feeling his teeth rattle and the nausea climbing up to him. His fingers shake but they dig into the dirt. A large part of the wall might fall down if he disrupts it too much. There is no hint on whether it’s unstable but it feels solid to his hands. With no other exit, he tries his luck there by clearing as much space above the rock for him to hopefully use it as a hooking point. If the whole structure crashes down on him then he might have the chance to die right away.

It hurts as he becomes more desperate. Nothing down here can attack him - they are all dead already but he hurries. Anything that comes from above might be dangerous and he really doesn’t want to stick around for that. He has been at home all alone, with no plans with anyone, and Sirius is busy on a date which means that if he gets lucky then he will only contact him in the afternoon tomorrow.

Maybe it’s already been a day or two since Regulus laid down amongst the dead but the rain has started on his way home, which could mean he isn’t far from the city and it might not have been long since his kidnapper got him.

His fingers ache from the cold and the effort but has cleared enough to have a somewhat footstool. Regulus looks up at the rain with a faint wish. The relief and joy plummets with him at his first try. He falls nastily and a bone digs into his hip like a rough knife. Thankfully it hasn’t truly stabbed him but the pain is there.

His feet are wet with blood and he stands up miserably before tearing one of the sleeves of his shirt to dry one as much as he can. He can’t stay long on it, the stone is still small and slightly leaning toward the hole, so he only takes a peek to see if someone is around before heaving himself painfully out of the pit.

Nothing is grimy and wet but the odour is still clinging onto him. He heaves out in relief and quickly takes a proper look around. It’s a small church, abandoned by the look of it. There is electricity though by the look of the few lamps. A ladder is not far against a row of seats on the ground.

No sound reaches him and Regulus tries to take it as a good omen. The lack of city noise worries him though. There aren’t many churches abandoned in the city either way so it must be outside of it. He cautiously makes his way, trying to not breathe too loud.

The front doors are sealed, no matter how much he pushes or pulls. All the windows are tall but he could break one of them by throwing something and climbing with the ladder or a seat. Still, he has no idea where he is and there is a chance that the psychopath is around. His body has shaken off all the grogginess and the tingling due to the stun gun but it’s enough to subdue all the pain. One single door is on the left of the church and it’s only thanks to the lack of noise that he makes his way toward it. His bare footstep would have probably been heard by now if someone else was in here but perhaps the rain and wind covered him his track.

He waits at the other side of the door, lips pursed and breathing as silently as possible, before trying his luck. No one else is here but a large altar faces him.

“There is a creep who tried to talk to me,” Sirius had said, almost two months ago. “Some pervert asked me to sign one of our interviews from when we were 12 or 13, looking like a complete nut. I’m sure I saw him staring at me from the other side of the street after that but he ran too fast for me to beat him up. Just be careful in case he is one of these wankers still believing in the Old Black Family bullshit.”

Regulus obviously found him. Or the other way around. The altar is mostly dedicated to Sirius and him, with pictures from their childhood printed in magazines, cut and enlarged, and more recent one - Regulus going to work, eating dinner with Sirius, grocery shopping. Same goes for Sirius. There are parts of the interviews too with words high-lightened amongst the candles, Latin words carved into real bones and an obvious bowl of blood which smells to be used as paint.

There are two small notebooks brimming with pages; one dedicated to him and the other to Sirius by the placement beside their larger recent picture. He opens his and finds a summary of him with cut-outs of clothes, items, jewelries and events like the movie or the opera in it.

All the gifts he has received have obviously come from him. He exhales through his nose to not throw up.

Sirius hasn’t mentioned any gifts but then he might have scared him off enough to not even try on him. Regulus doesn’t remember any creep and he doubts he has missed it so perhaps he has changed his method with him. He has been stupid enough to believe Pandora and her theory that it’s James who tried to charm his way in. Of course he has a bloody creep after him.

He closes the notebook. There are pictures of their whole family on the altar too, even some he can’t recognize. This person is definitely one of these people who would have blindly followed their parents. Their family created an empire of fortune but they also cultivated a fanaticism around them, akin to a religion, and their parents used all of it to expand their control. Be it their habits, wishes and everything else that made people look at them like some kind of meshias. Sirius nor him actually need to work and when Regulus went to college they tried to offer everything to him with the same thought that he is some kind of idol.

This could explain why this mad man made corpses to look like Walburga and Orion. It could be their grandparents’ skeletons since their parents’ remains are none. The amount of corpses in the pit, some fresh by the amount of flesh, blood and the smell, and all the blood used up as some kind of decorations– this is nothing more than a bloody ritual that their parents would have come up with to see people hurt themselves for their pretty eyes.

He takes the rest of the room in. There is a simple bed and a table with a chair but nothing that he could use as a weapon. The light is better here and he sees his face in a stark white plate from the table.

His face has been painted on with blood. It has already dried and the feel of it comes to him with a vicious vertigo. There is a big smile engraved with the blood across his lips and cheeks. His eyes are circled and a sort of crown is drawn on his forehead.

Regulus needs to get out of here. There aren't any knives or guns, anything that could help him to get out or defend himself. Almost tempted to trash the room and the altar, he doesn’t need to because he finally finds a phone under the pile of old magazines.

His brain needs one second too long to remember any phone number. James would come right away and he is used to answering the phone in the middle of the night with his work. But the psychopath might have gone after Sirius. The altar is as decorated for him as for his brother which definitely means he wants him too. Sirius has seen the face of this mad man so he will know right away who to look for. His heart hammers and the phone rings in his shaky hand.

“Reggie, you better not cockblock me or-”

“Help me,” he sobs out with no shame.

He tries to breathe in and out to stop the cries but they are too strong.

“What?!” Sirius shouts and his voice becomes clearer. “Reggie, where are you?”

“I don’t know. This- the creep. He kidnapped me,” he gasps. “He is insane– there is-”

His brother screams and swears but the phone doesn’t catch everything with the ruckus going on behind him.

“This bloody pervert! Are you okay? Is he there?”

Regulus sniffs and leans away from the phone to try to hear something. “I don’t know. I’m– it’s a small church I think.”

“Okay, okay, Reggie keep breathing, alright?” He says but he is the one sounding more panicked and breathless. “I will come get you. I can find you. Is it a cellphone?”

“No,” he croaks out and manages to take a proper breath at the promise that he is coming for him. “I can try to get out by one of the windows.”

“You get out of there,” Sirius orders. “I will come get you, just run and I will fi-”

A shot echoes through the church. Regulus cries in pain and falls when his leg slumps once the bullet pierces through it. His ears ring and he barely finds the strength to open his eyes before his face is grabbed. He looks up at the wide smile.

“I should have known you’re smart,” the man purrs.

The phone is dead silent, swaying from its cord. He fights the grip the best he can but his leg ache and tugs at his nerves. His fingers scratch what it can but he only seems to get more pleasure out of his struggle.

“Let go of me!” Regulus barks out and gags when a hand grabs him by his throat.

“Shush, I don’t want to hurt you,” he mourns with a tender look clashing with the crazy shake of his eyes. “I’m sorry for your leg but I will take good care of you. You surprised me that’s all.”

He hauls him up but with the lack of air and the pain, Regulus can’t find his footing. His hands scramble to find some support. The grip lessens a bit but the pressure is still killing him.

“No worries, doll. I can replace your leg if we can’t save it.”

The man isn't taller or larger but he is easily in control despite the trashing Regulus tries as he is dragged out of the room. A hand digs into his hip and a nose dips into his hair to take a loud sniff. Regulus makes the mistake to use his bleeding leg to fight and the pain subdues him rather quickly. His head is starting to spin but he tries to ground himself by grinding his teeth together.

“Have you called your brother?” He asks and shuffles through the church where a bag sits on a seat. “I would have brought him here too but he was with this man— a nobody, impure and stupid.”

“What do you want?” Regulus hisses.

The pit is right beside them and Regulus fears that he is going to be thrown in there - with his wound, he won’t manage to get out. A knife isn’t far, next to the bag, and the man had slipped his gun back in his pants’ pocket. He doesn’t have the time to try to get it. His hands are pulled together within one, and he tries to kick but nothing slows him down as the psychopath ties his hands together with a plastic handcuff. It digs into his skin more than necessary and the man frowns at it.

“Does it hurt?”

“This bullet bloody hurts,” he snaps.

The man doesn’t get mad but squints at Regulus’ face. He purses his lips to not spit in his face. With how clearly unstable he is, Regulus can’t afford to make him mad. Sirius will save him without any doubt so he needs to stay alive until he gets there. His leg is bleeding and he doubts he has enough strength to run and even less outrun him.

“You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s bad manners, probably because of your brother,” he complains with a distressed look as he grabs his face. Regulus tries to shake it off. “Your brother has a big mouth, full of sins and depravity, but I will cure him. As long as he gets to eat in another way, he won’t need his mouth again. I will sew it shut until he behaves.”

Regulus’ eyes widen as the panic smothers him at his words. The man must have taken his steeliness as a good sign because he coes.

“But you’re my favourite Regulus. You have always been. I will love you now and forever. We can be a big family too. I know you’ve been missing your parents but we can bring them back. I have everything ready for it.” He tilts Regulus’ face, roughly stroking his cheeks before frowning. “You have lost your smile.”

Regulus tries to count his breathing to not completely lose it. Maybe he shouldn’t have contacted Sirius - his call doesn’t seem to worry the mad man. He has a gun. Sirius doesn’t. His brother is brazen and probably won’t think twice before coming here once he tracks the phone. He could do that blind, fingers flying over any laptop, but he will get caught and even he isn’t stupid enough to go against a gun. If he is ready to do some weird ritual to bring back their parents then he probably won’t hesitate to kill Sirius with the stupid hope to bring him back after.

Two fingers probe at him and he needs a second before realising that his lips are painted on. One of the man’s palms is cut open, bleeding, and he dips his fingers back in there before spreading it over Regulus’ face.

“Even as a child you never smiled,” he whispers, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “I kept wondering— how would you look with one? You’re just so pretty, doll.”

It’s a kick in the gut and Regulus opts to return the favour as hard as he can. The adrenaline crams within him but he doesn’t care anymore. Breathing is not important when this psychopath has dressed him up like some kind of virgin and calls him doll. He doesn’t know where he is going with that but he immediately reaches out for the knife while the man wheezes and coughs with his hands around his throat. Regulus’ leg tugs at his nerves and he misses his chance at grabbing the knife by the sudden stumble.

He stops thinking and shouts when he is grabbed by his hair. With his thrashing and kicking, smashing with his tied hands, he manages to make the man fall along with him but he is still more clear-minded and quickly crushes Regulus to the ground.

“Why are you fighting back?! I’m giving you everything!” He screams and starts crying to Regulus’ despair. “I’m taking care of you! Didn’t you like my gifts?!”

“Let me go,” he seethes and tries to push him away. He is flipped on his back and the man sits on him, right in a spot that makes his leg bleed out worse. “Get off of me!”

“If you could look at you, you would understand,” he declares. “You must be hungry.”

Regulus’s eyes widen at the bleeding palm hovering over his mouth. He painfully purses his lips at the drops and punches him with his tangled hands, trying to hold him back. The pervert fights back, managing to stick his palm against his mouth but Regulus keeps his lips shut despite the pressure and the smell of the blood.

“We are made for each other love, you will get better if y-”

He throws his head forward as hard as he can. “Shit,” he groans out in pain as he feels the pain ricocheting through his skull.

By the moans and how the man fell, he definitely broke his nose, stumbling off Regulus to cradle his face. His leg aches too much and his stomach is ready to hurl but he pushes himself to stay focused. He notices how one hand full of blood drifts toward his gun. Putting all his strength into his good leg, he rams into the mad man as hard as he can to make him let go of it.

It’s enough to make the man tip over the edge of the pit but he grabs onto Regulus’ shirt, bringing him down too. He tries to save himself but his hands are tied with nothing to hold on and his wounded leg has finally given out.

They land on the numerous corpses, grunting in pain at the bones as the blood gushes out. The gun flew out of his hand but Regulus can’t spot where it is in his haste and his focus quickly comes back to the man rising and reaching out for him with a cry of fury.

Regulus is pushed down on his back, crying in pain at the bones digging into him, and hands fall on his throat. He wheezes at the pain as his hand scrambles for something, anything, that could get him out of this. His grip lands on something, stuck, and Regulus jerks it as hard as he can into the madman’s head.

The rain reaches out like an odd balm. This time it’s not blood like the one that fell from the psychopath when the loose rib stabbed through his throat. Some got into his eyes and ever since then he kept them closed.

The fresh water trickling down his face doesn’t soothe. Regulus considers that he is dead as he can’t feel anything outside from the crushing pressure on him. He is close to drowning and his ears are gasping around the icy liquid.

His eyes open to find the hole in the roof when he hears the regular bangs. He tries to get rid of the dead weight on him when a louder smash rattle throughout the church. His body shakes at the effort but can’t manage to get off the fresh death of him. It feels like he is floating and the blood fills him. The wound in his leg is definitely getting infected.

The familiar rumble of a motorcycle breaks him of his daze and Regulus takes a deep breath. It can only be one person.

“Sirius!” He shouts as loud as he can.

“Regulus!”

Regulus blinks up, surprised, before finally noticing James standing above him.

“James?”

“Oh God,” he blurts out, eyes wide and still on Regulus while the rest of him is completely dishevelled. “Reg’!” He doesn’t seem to realise what is in the pit because he jumps in it. Regulus watches him rush to him with no care for everything else. “Shit, are you alright?!”

His eyes burn but he tries to not cry. “I’m fine,” he croaks out.

James pushes the dead body off of him and falls to his knees to have a closer look at him. He cautiously cradles his face with his hands, eyes looking ready to cry.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Bloody hell, did he do something?”

There are more noises rising around them, one voice screams sounding awfully like Sirius, and Regulus catches some lights travelling above them. He is definitely losing consciousness.

“He shot me in the leg,” he articulates and James immediately looks at it but it’s probably drenched in blood and offers no view. “Just get me out of here please.”

“Of course, Reggie,” he stutters with a forced smile. “Just stay with me, alright? Please.” James shakes but hugs him firmly against his chest as he tries to adjust his grip on him.

It’s comforting and despite hearing him loud and clear, Regulus can’t help but let himself go. He hisses in pain and James immediately tries to move him another way. They barely move before something else falls down in the pit.

“Stop him!”

“Hey!”

Regulus jerks at Sirius’ voice and the ruckus above them. James holds Regulus up until Sirius punches him, leaving him with no support.

“Sirius!” He shouts the best he can as Sirius and James start to wrestle. “Sirius, stop! It’s not him!”

Sirius swirls to take a look at Regulus, fist tight and raised, with one of James’ hands almost in his eye. Regulus gestures at the man James pushed off of him and he finally relaxes his stance.

“Holy shit Reggie,” he gasps out, letting go of James who is relieved and quickly sits up with a hand touching his left eye, as he jumps on him to crush him in a hug.

“You’re hurting me, you moron,” he groans out but lets his head fall on his shoulder, feeling the leather jacket.

“We’re fine!” James exclaims, hastily retrieving his glasses to clean them up, to the several people around the pit. One flashlight drifts over all of them and Regulus is shocked to see his left eye red and starting to swell.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asks, close to crying by how wobbly his tone is and it starts to get to Regulus. “What did this creep do? What’s that on your face?”

“Probably his blood that he painted on me— shit Sirius,” he hisses when he starts to rub at it. “Just get me out of here before my leg gets more infected.”

“Holy shit, what the bloody hell is this?!” He shrieks when he finally takes in where they are.

James hurries to them when Sirius tries to stand up and carry Regulus, swooping in to also 

take a hold of him. He tries to not blush because it’s almost a bridal carry if Sirius ever lets go of him. The three of them are drenched in blood, which Sirius has yet to realise because he will surely scream about the state of his clothes and his precious leather jacket the second his brain wears off the adrenaline. Regulus finds himself coming down from his ups and downs rather quickly, head falling against a shoulder.

“Sorry about your eye, by the way,” Sirius says, “thought you were the pervert.”

James laughs, chest rumbling against Regulus, even if his left eye stays mostly closed after each blink. “It’s fine. To be fair, I wouldn’t have asked either.”

“Get me out,” Regulus mutters, eyes closed, as all his effort is put in his snapping tone.

“You should have told him that the whole dressing up as a virgin is too late for you Reggie,” Sirius teases.

“This psychopath actually told me you’re a bad influence on me,” he snipes back.

“Careful down here! We are bringing the ladder!”

He is a bit jostled and someone walks through the pit because of the noise. With a last burst of strength, Regulus opens his eyes to realise James is carrying him by himself and is watching Sirius walk toward the psychopath with the bone sticking out of his neck. His brother does what Regulus can’t, kicking him right in the head before turning him on his back with his foot and stepping with all his weight on his dick. It clearly doesn’t satisfy him and Regulus hopes that he doesn’t see the altar dedicated to them. Sirius’ attention is quickly moved away from his vengeance to the sight of the two skeletons dressed in white.

“Alright there?” James whispers, nose brushing against Regulus’ temple as a clumsy hand tries to keep his hold and reaches out to softly wipe his cheek.

He can’t swallow down the tears at the relief and the warmth. His leg feels dead but he ignores it to let his head snuggle against James’ wide chest.

“I’m fine… How did you find me?”

“Er, well I dropped by your place. And you weren’t there but your car was still in the parking lot. Your phone, keys and everything were still in there, but I only came in after calling Pandora who told me where you hid your spare key” he hastily explains and clears his throat. “I figured something happened to you so I tried all your friends. Your brother’s, er, boyfriend? I think. He called the police to tell them that you were kidnapped and that your brother apparently had an idea of where you were.”

“I called him,” he slurs as he feels his eyes dropping. “Why… did you stop by mine?”

James snorts and cautiously tightens his grip. “Couldn’t figure out if you were really mad at me. I wanted to drop by some chocolate since you mentioned- ”

“Forget about that.” Regulus really wishes he had the strength to hug back. “Ja-”

“Reggie,” Sirius cuts, his voice odd enough for him to actually pay attention. “Is this really what I think it is?”

James turns a bit for them to have a better view of his brother staring down at the dressed up skeletons. Regulus clears his throat and feels James’ fingers brushing over his neck.

“Dressed like our parents, yes,” he manages to say. “Talked about being a family, bringing them back.”

Sirius gags, hurrying back to them. “Where is this fucking ladder?!” He screams and tries to retrieve Regulus in his arms.

“Hey careful-”

“Get us out of here!” Sirius barks over James’ complain. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Shut up,” Regulus hisses before he can’t reply.

His brother is definitely going to stick to his side for weeks. One of them is definitely going to die because Regulus won’t survive his pampering and over-protectiveness.

“Sirius. Calm down for God’s sake.”

James thankfully still has a hold on Regulus because Sirius spins on his spot to look above them at the disapproving face, slightly sick though, but the sight around him clearly makes him sick.

“Remus?! What are-”

“Did you really think I would just forget you telling me that a psycho got your brother as you tried to put back your pants on?” Remus scoffs, side-stepping when two people rush to the edge with a step-ladder. “I called the cops but I figured you might do something crazy.”

“He punched me.”

“Shut up,” Sirius hisses at James.

“I saw. You’re the second one he punched,” Remus dryly comments.

“Just get me out of here please.”

[lovebugspots]

Not this again…

Modern AU! Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Bucky finally got back from his tours in Ukraine, and finally away from the cold grips of HYDRA, but he isn’t the same…and he found solace in the comforts of his old Lieutenant.

TW ⚠️⚠️: this contains details of Panic attacks, puke, blood, brain matter, organs and overall there is a lot of gore mentioned in his memory.

He woke up with a gasp, choking on the air, the air felt dry, and desert like. He lets out a few choked sobs and he sat up from the floor, his dog tags shimmering in the pale moonlight.

He had just gotten home, he had finally returned from hell.

James B Barnes

32557038 T42 2B

George Barnes

30922 Stockton

He read on his dog tags, the hot tears falling from his baby blues made his sight foggy…

All the memories of the war weren’t pleasant, they never were…

But for Bucky Barnes? It was worse

He was on a raid in one of the towns in the country to which the name he doesn’t bother to remember. There was a train, and while he and his men, and one woman, tried to interfere…

He fell onto the tracks and the train severed his left arm off. But his men couldn’t get back to him since they were on the train.

But one of the terrorist groups, HYDRA, found him and took him in to torture him and get information. after months, and months, hell maybe even years, of torture they realize nothing is coming out of his mouth. So, they boot him in the cold terrain of the mountains of Ukraine.

But then his savior, the only person that never gave up on looking for him. His Lieutenant, Y/n Y/l/n. His girl.

After she finally got him back at base they got him a prosthetic arm, one he utterly hates.

While Bucky got medically discharged, his girl was still fighting in the relentless war. And he hated himself for that.

‘What if I never fell of the stupid train? What if I was there with her? Is she hurt? Is she dead?’

All ran through the poor man’s mind as he rocked himself, his now longer hair slight moving with the movements he made.

His nose was stuffy, so he couldn’t breath from his nose.

‘I cant fucking breathe! I feel like I’m underwater again!’

He screamed mentally as he tried to breath, his heart was beating irregularly fast and his stomach hurt.

He nuzzled his head onto his knees and rocked back and forth like a baby trying to find comfort.

As if a instant snap happened, it stopped. The crying stopped but his heart was still quick.

But the memories of the blood, squirting all over the place, the blood of many men on his hands, the dark cherry red liquid. How he had brain matter on his hands, all of the organs pooling out of his mens stomachs after HYDRA brutally murdered them.

Bucky quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom and puked, the stomach acids and his bile all flowing from his mouth.

The sour, and rotten taste filled his mouth, causing him to puke more and more.

He sobbed, he sobbed and piled as he remembered the taste of a innocent woman’s blood and brain matter squirted into his mouth from when he killed her.

He couldn’t stop it felt like, the puke flowing from his mouth. Their wasn’t much to his puke, mostly water and some chunks of Chinese take-out from Natasha and Steve.

After a few minutes he stood up and flushed his puke down the toilet and walked to his counter and grabbed his toothbrush and started to brush his teeth, visibly harshly.

Blood started to seep through his gums, he let out a army yell as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked nothing like himself, long hair, dark eye bags, scars, missing arm was the most obvious, and the replacement with his prosthetic made him want to puke even more.

But he didn’t.

He walked back to his room and saw it was 4:28 AM.

He had been sobbing and puking for three hours, that wasn’t good for him. He knows it.

He sighed and sat down but his phone started to go off.

He grabbed the phone tiredly and saw;

Unknown

He reluctantly answered and huffed out.

“Hello?”

His voice was hoarse and he grimaced.

“Sergeant James Barnes?”

The feminine voice said on the other line, Bucky’s heart immediately dropped as his mind went straight to Y/n.

Y/n and Bucky put each other down as emergency contacts, he had Steve and Sam as his but…Y/n had nobody, all her family had passed away and she had no friends she trusted that much.

So Bucky became the one person.

“Uh- Y-yes this is James Barnes…”

“Hello sir, you are Lieutenant Y/n Y/l/n, correct?”

Bucky was terrified, but calmly he tried saying.

“U-uh Yeah.”

“Okay, Mrs. Y/l/n has been found severely injured and is getting medically discharged. Do you think you could pick her up at the John F. Kennedy airport this evening?”

He can finally see her. See his girl. He smiled and instantly said.

“Yes ma’am. Is she alright?”

“She was shot several times in the stomach and chest, she requires harsh physical therapy.”

All Bucky could do, was nod and the woman finally said.

“Alright, thank you and good bye.”

She hung up and Bucky jumped up, even though it’s now 4:45 AM, he wanted to get ready. And it was likely she would stay with him, so he had to get his apartment ready…right?

Y/n had her arms over one of the flight attendants shoulder as she held onto him, the male flight attendant helped her off the plain and the other female attendant got her wheelchair.

They helped more partially because she had her full dress uniform on, and she was an terrifying woman.

But, they got her in the wheel chair and helped her inside.

“I can handle my self now, thank you.”

The dressed woman said to the attendants and they bowed and walked away. Y/n wheeled herself to baggage claim and down to the outside of the airport and she saw him.

Her boy. Bucky.

Hiii! This is going to be a slow-ish burn. And it’s going to be fun!!

Much love-

Ry🩵