#oh well I just didn’t want this to rot in my docs

[painonthebrain]

Content: Manhandling, needle/syringe, drugging, captivity (implied)

The phone rings.

Whumpee is wrangled to the side, pulled by their hair. They choke.

Whumper reaches for their syringe.

“No no nono n-”

The needle plunges into their skin.

The syringe is thrown to the side, clinking as it hits the floor.

Whumpee sways, and whumper steadies them enough, leading them to the couch.

They then let go of them, letting them crumple against the cushions.

…

“… Hello?”

A pause.

“Ah, Darian!” Their voice lilts with recognition.

…

“No, I didn’t forget.”

…

Whumper laughs. “Of course! I have them all here.”

…

“So, what are we thinking?”

…

“Mm, good choice! I think it’ll be great. Thanks. Bye.”

They hang up, turning back to whumpee.

They sigh, smiling, watching as whumpee stares off, in some other world.

“So it’s a date.”

[fllagellant]

oh pls tell me about Well whatever my Princess wants OR KILL THAT MAN…, :33

FLUTTERS EYELASHES I will tell .. both

Well whatever my Princess wants is the Kill Mizora fic I shared … a bit ago .. self explanatory , post game in Avernus , whatever my Wyllyam wants !

Excerpt :

Mizora can see the trail of her own blood, flecks and pools and long lines from free bleeding gashes, she can see their frantic pace, how they muddy her world more and more with boot prints of blood and dust and hell and hells-

She can see where her head would hang, the perfect blank space along the hound’s belt.

And her rotting teeth would chew his thigh, bring him down with her. How dare he.

How dare her.

How dare they.

Their bootfalls cracked and echoed down the hall, the cacophony of sound jarring-grating-damming. Her hands twitched. To cover her ears would be a coward's mercy. She had no time. The last time she paused-

The door slammed shut, uncoordinated hands-fingers-wrists forcing the lock to slide into place. Mizora panted once, twice. Breath holding on the third inhale. Uneasy, untrusting silence crept atop her senses.

(perception; passed)

No… no, not silence. And she backed away from the locked door. Keeping them in the entryway and allowing her, what should have been, the chance to escape. Regroup. Have something or someone ready to hunt and kill for her.

But there was a whispering, muttering, shuffling of feet just beyond her little getaway. And she looked around with blurred eyes to see if there was anything she could wedge between her and fate- not fate cannot be fate cannot die like this-

—

KILL THAT MAN !! Is the Gortash assassination fic … um .. it appeared you have discovered the murder docs .. also a bit of exploration of Giilvas + circle of the moon + dipping back into his lycanthropic tendencies .. :33

Excerpt : ( under the cut just in case bc … blood and death but nothing overly graphic but still More compared to the previous fic I think )

To storm the castle at night made the most sense to everyone. To enter through the prison underneath the rot felt the safest.

Steel Watch still littered the halls, no one bothered to try and fix it. How could they? What could they do? Little more than canon fodder and corrupt mind, the Flaming Fist be. There was no chance they could dissect the corpse and learn anything more than the loud and vague enough truths their Archduke had told them.

Weary men and women knew their orders. Weary men and women no longer wanted to refuse orders of slaughter. Weary men and women had hoped a day like this would come for them, so they can feel in control again.

They were enemies, not saviours here. Their achievements, their proofs of care and protection of the people made them the monster to be slaughtered. They stood against the Tyrant Lord, the Slayer’s Blood, so they stood against

Everyone.

Offered no mercy, no chance at diplomacy, the first strike was by the Fists. They seemed to be waiting.

They were.

They weren’t an obstacle. A desperate scuffle of defence that collapsed at the first bit of pushback. No match for battle rage, for druidic magic, for warlock dark magics. For anger. For sorrow.

For

Pain.

It didn’t take long to

Carve

A way inside.

Blood pooling against polished stone floors, death cries rattling within the walls. The drawbridges entombed all that happened. All that will happen.

Empty, echoing room swallowed them in silence.

Standing before the grand staircase that’ll take them up, up, up, to hunt down the Chosen of Bane. Another push, another desperate struggle that can only end in one way. Wyll wiped a sheen off his brow, sweat and dirt,

And blood.

And he turned to Giilvas.

Something was different.

[elisemochi]

the original fic concept I had for my exchange fic before realizing i was biting off more then i could chew was one where

Wayne was being meddlesome and decided to start a penpal service between the towns specifically with the intention of getting Lisette with Ludus

because he joined his wife in a Beverage Bash group including them and something happens to cause Wayne to go all

now wait a darn minute.

Maybe she almost falls and Ludus catches her without a second thought? or something like that

A very right place at the right time sort of thing.

Wayne just sees something there and is very oh i need to do something about this about it because he's so happy with Holly and wants his friends to be happy too

So he decides to make a fake penpal service that very quickly becomes a real one because this man's a people pleaser and when people who are not the targets want to join he cant say no without looking suspicious (and feeling bad)

and then it would just be them sending letters back and forth and falling for each other and stuff

Im going to post the prologue that I didn't end up using in my rework here just so it doesn't rot in the doc but dont judge to hard Its not edited

Despite it being Fall already, the weather wasn't being too friendly. The sun seemed bound and determined to beat down on the two of them as they made their way towards the festival grounds. Seeing as it was Lulukoko’s turn to host the Beverage Bash maybe it was fitting.

“I can count on you to pick the other two out, yeah?” Wayne asks as he rolls the Lychee in his palm.

Holly smiles brightly at him as she responds, “Of course! I’ll make sure we have a winning combination!” 

She’s so beautiful.

Wayne stops walking to lean down and pepper a couple of kisses on her cheek before continuing on. He can hear her giggling even before she catches back up to him.

“I still can’t believe you originally wanted to bring an egg of all things.” Holly says, lightly.

“Hey– I told you, I read somewhere that you can make some really fun drinks with eggs.” Wayne says.

As they fall back into comfortable silence Wayne cant help but think again about just how lucky he is to have found someone like Holly.

-------

When the Beverage Bash begins Wayne hangs back and lets Holly go hunting through the other participants for fruit that would compliment their Cherry and Lychee respectively. She’s not gone for very long before she’s coming back pulling one person on each arm.

“Alright! So we have Lychee, Cherry, Banana, and Peach!” Holly says excitedly as she unhands Ludus and Lisette.

“Good choice, Holly.” Wayne says quickly, pecking her cheek once more. He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of being able to do that whenever he feels like it. Even if that happened to be a hundred times a day. Holly didn’t seem to mind it though.

In the end they do end up getting first place, as expected with Holly at the helm. The fruit juice they made together was really nice. Not like he ever doubted her.

It’s as they’re helping clean up that he sees something– Lisette and Ludus talking quietly as they work and wasn't that a sight. They look really nice together in his opinion. 

Different, sure, but from what he knew of them they’re both stubborn, hard working people who practically live to be helpful. Last he had heard, back before he married Holly, Ludus didn’t really know Westown’s resident sweetheart very well and Wayne’s already more than aware of Lisette's tendency to not leave the town unless she has to. 

Still though, seeing her giggle at something he said, and the way Ludus’ eyes snap back to her with that small smile when she does was making him wonder. He’s sure they’re just making small talk but for a moment he feels like he should try to get them to interact more. 

That maybe one day he could help all his friends get hitched. That, maybe it’s time to push for another wedding. Or at the least a few dates. He’s sure they’ll appreciate it. It will be good practice when he and Brad eventually try to find someone for Ford.

Well– as long as he stays smart about it. While he’s sure he could get Lisette to play along if he just told her his plans outright, Ludus– not so much. Plus, word travels fast even between towns so it be best to tell everyone the same thing from the get go.

Once they make it home, he’ll be runnin’ his plans by Holly.

[pedrito-friskito]

um excuse me the domestication of steven grant rogers - part two!!!!! I loved part 1!

LJ!!! PART TWO!!!

I’ve been sitting on it for an embarrassing amount of time - it’ll get finished someday, I swear! and just cuz I love ya, a big snippet under the cut cuz I just opened the doc and went OH YEAH

(mmmmmmmph that face - I swear I’ll come back once the joel miller brain rot wears off…!)

Steve steps out of his apartment building, and there’s a surprise perched on top of his bike. A very pretty surprise. He can’t help the broad grin that pulls at his mouth, and he closes the distance between the two of you in an instant, nearly sighing with relief when you slide off the bike and step into his arms. A moment later, your mouth is on his, lips just as soft as they’ve been in his dreams lately. Your palms cup his cheeks, warm against his skin, and a chill zips down his spine at the way your nails dig in ever so slightly.

“You cut your hair,” you say after a moment, when you’ve pulled away to inspect him properly. One hand lifts from his face to run through his now shorter hair, and then you’re kissing him again, the grin on your face matching his, a low noise coming from your throat when his arms settle around you, one hand flat against the small of your back.

“You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow,” he says, hugging you close. You kiss him once, twice, three more times before you sink back onto your heels, staying put in his arms, your hands finding his shoulders.

“Good to see you too, Cap,” you retort, brows lifting. He scoffs, shaking his head and ducking slightly so he can kiss you again. “My class got cancelled, and I got an earlier flight.”

He lets out a little appreciative grunt and lowers his face against your neck, lips at your pulse. “Well, aren’t I a lucky guy.”

You grumble back, hands clenching on his shoulders as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Maybe you should take me upstairs so I can show you just how lucky you are.”

Steve grins against your lips. “I was gonna go for a run, but that sounds like a much better plan.”

You pull back. “Oh, go for your run. I’m the one who showed up unannounced, I don’t wanna mess with your day.”

“You’re the only one I want messing with my day,” he replies, and reaches down for your bag that’s resting against the motorcycle. He takes your hand, and pulls you back towards the building.

You’re barely through the door before he’s on you again, your bag set carefully on the kitchen table. He helps you out of your jacket, and crowds you back against the counter a second later, hands easily finding your bare skin beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Something like a moan falls out of you when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure already building.

“I missed you,” you whisper out, breath hitching slightly when he lifts you all too easily onto the counter, a hand knocking your knees apart so he can stand between them. He reaches back a second later, grabbing the back of his collar and yanking his shirt off. You follow suit, crossing your arms and reaching for your t-shirt hem.

Steve sucks in a breath when he sees the pretty fabric covering your chest, intricate lace that contrasts all too well with your skin tone. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you admit, the words ending in a gasp as he reaches for the button on your jeans, pulling you forward on the counter so he can yank them down your legs. “The plan was to wait naked in your bed if you weren’t.”

Steve grins, leaning in so he can drag his mouth across your collar, grinning against your skin when it leaves you keening, your back arching further into his touch. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs, hands moving down to your bare thighs, hooking one leg around his hip and pulling you close. “So much. It’s too quiet here without you.”

“And New York isn’t the same without you, Cap.”

Something deep in him flares, and he dives in, kissing you roughly, groaning when he feels your hands in his hair again, fingers tightening as he bites lightly at your bottom lip.

You lift your other leg, and your ankles lock at the small of his back. Pulling a squeal from you, he lifts you into his arms, and carries you back to his bedroom.

[eurydicees]

13, 14, 15, & 23 for the fanfic end of the year asks? :D

some questions !! under the cut bc this got long :)

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

hmmm just based on the fact that i wrote a whole fic inspired by it (read: i listened to it on repeat while writing), i’m gonna have to say heat waves by glass animals. the fic itself isn’t really inspired by the song, but i went insane abt it a little bit. it was my no. 1 song of 2022 lmfao. anyways go read fever dreams; or, love in the time of heat waves for some real brain rot 

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

oooh interesting. i’m gonna say just let me kiss you once because i’d never really pictured myself writing atsuiwa before! i’m pretty iwaoi ride or die, not gonna lie to you, so it was waaaay out of my comfort zone to write one of them with someone else! i’m fairly satisfied with how it came out though, and i looove the atsuiwa dynamic already so it was exciting to try something new out. 

15. something you learned this year

oh so so so much tbh. it was a year of growth not gonna lie to you. regarding writing, though, i think i really learned that i. don’t actually want to publish original fiction professionally. like it used to be a really big dream, like The Dream, the ultimate goal in my life, to publish a real novel or some kind of writing. it was kinda my whole goal in life, to become a published author. but idk, i think i’ve realized that i don’t really want that anymore. i’m happy to keep writing on the side and just do my silly little fanfic for fun! i’m really satisfied with the little thing i’ve got going on here, where i write for fun and just publish what i feel like, instead of making it, like, a career. becoming an actual established author is no longer a life dream of mine tbh and i think i realized that i just wanna write for fun instead of work. it was kinda a huge wake up call that i’m not happy with the life path i’d been pursuing for literally my entire life. it’s funny how things change. 

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

oh man. there are SO many. i keep all of my drafts in one doc rather than starting sixteen thousand new docs every time i have an idea, so i can with say i have more than 80k words worth of drafts of fics i wanted to finish but never got around to. here are some of the main ones, though: 

a longform kyoya-centric fic! it was a study into the hosts’ relationships post-canon and their development as adults, as well as kyoya being dumb and gay. the tagline was “So: Kyoya graduated from Ouran Academy, got on a plane to Boston Logan Airport, and conveniently forgot to give anyone his international phone number.” 

the sakuatsu fake dating fic!!

and while we’re on the subject, the matsuhana fake dating fic 

the iwaoisuga fic we’ve been talking about :P 

oh and ofc all the requests i said i would get to and then . never actually wrote lol. i’ll get to them eventually, really, i swear….

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

any 5 of your choice for the fic ask!

As you wish, summersociety, fantastic writer whom I look up to and am mildly afraid of being perceived by but adore anyway 🫡 (dude I’m still freaking that you know who I am, not gonna lie LMAO)

3: What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Definitely the beloved Christmas fic, you could call me babe for the weekend. It’s literally just self indulgent tooth rotting disgusting fluff, but I really enjoyed the way Nancy and Robin got to play off each other in this situation, and I worked very very hard on it!

4: If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from most?

Well out of what’s published, there aren’t any repeats, but between two WIPs and one published, I’ve got three from Conan Gray! His music is very Ronance coded, in my personal opinion. The published on can be found here and is based on movies. As for the other two, People Watching is in the early stages, and Wish You Were Sober is nearly complete 👀 I’d like to fuck around and write a bunch based on Paramore because they’re my favorite band EVER if you couldn’t tell

12: How many WIPs do you have in your Docs for next year?

[sweats], I don’t know how to do things one at a time, so I have run away and somehow that I’m still working on, I have 9 open Docs, and a list of ideas (most of which are one shots and actually will get written, plus a few potential long fics) 30+ strong

I’m not obsessed, you’re obsessed

21: How many kudos total did you get this year?

3,245 which is absolutely UNREAL to me. I started a silly little self indulgent fic and didn’t expect anyone to actually read my writing at all and here we are. It makes me so happy (and also terrified because oh god the mortifying ordeal of being known).

24: Did you write any gifts this year?

No, but I desperately want to. I have no idea where to even start as far as a fic, but I have a couple people I’d love to write a little something for (like you) 👉👈 So if any of those people (you) had any special requests or ideas (again this is @ you) they could totally let me know and I could whip something up—

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 204

Meta Fiction/Nightmare in Silver

“Meta Fiction”

Plot Description: Metatron tries to persuade Castiel to join him, and the Winchesters finally capture Gadreel, who tries to play Dean’s Mark of Cain against him

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: um. So no one dies but you got a real creepy breaking of the fourth wall from Metatron

And then we open the actual episode with a…not short Dean shower scene

Hello? Cas? Where tf are you and why are there that many dead angels and WHAT IS THAT SIGIL? AND WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO USE A SMARTPHONE?!

Omg Metatron is luring angels with a sound that is reminiscent of heaven and then forcing them to either join him or die…

People (angels, really) keep trying to force Castiel into leadership roles or at the very least right hand man roles…it is…exhausting and my baby’s tired

Oh��oh his little smile when he heard Dean’s voiiiiiiiice on the phone omg

Oh, if he’s getting a weird message via Casa Erotica…does that mean…Gabriel?? Or can Metatron manipulate it too? Would he? GABRIEL!!!!!!!!!!

GABRIEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok but I kinda don’t trust that it’s really him…for a bunch of reasons. I know that he said they’re gonna go on a Kill Metatron Mission, but idk man

Ah, man, that guy was fun, he didn’t deserve that

Ok but I like this conversation between Gabe and Cas. I hope it’s real. I really want it to be real so bad. Castiel is so trusting…he deserves a win

Oh…no…I knew it was too good to be true. Of course Gabriel’s not real. Of course it was just a plot to get Cas to hear Metatron out (because that’s what it said in the summary) but DAMN.

He’s been CAPTURED by Metatron?! I kind of thought he was actually talking to Castiel and not the viewer

I’m not saying the stuff with the Winchesters is boring this episode, but the Castiel stuff is WAY more interesting. The boys are just cornering and capturing Gadreel right now. If something cool happens, I’ll say, but this is the Cas show tonight

Castiel has had cultural knowledge added to his inventory, Metatron has LITERALLY info dumped every story he’s consumed over a couple millennia into Cas’s brain

Did Metatron write his OWN SUPERNATURAL BOOKS?? Did he technically write fanfiction?? “Fix it” fic?

Oh. No no no no no no…I don’t like Metatron’s plan.

(Ok…Dean telling Gadreel that he’s going to pay for what he did to Sam and Kevin….*tucks hair behind ear*)

Why’s Gadreel so desperate to die?? Oh, because the alternative is being left to rot in chains like he did after he allowed the snake into Eden

Well and now I don’t trust that this trade (Gadreel for Cas) is real

Mmmmmmmmm, now Castiel knows about the Mark of Cainnnnnnnnnn

Is Cas’s new coat shorter? I don’t like it…

Uh ohhhhhhhh. Is Gadreel starting to potentially lose faith in Metatron??

Not gonna lie. Did not like that ending. I know it will lead to interesting things but damn. The dead behind the eyes look Dean had, Cas using the sigil calling angels to him to lead them…all the while it looks like Metatron is at least controlling the latter part of that

“Nightmare in Silver”

Plot Description: Hedgewick’s World of Wonders theme park is ground zero for a Cybermen resurrection

I love how difficult it is to impress the girl Clara babysits. Either that or she’s playing difficult to impress and that’s even smarter when you’re already traveling in the TARDIS

Oh. Oh I HATE that. The little…cyberbugs crawling out of the cyberman and onto the theme park dude and Angie’s phone (which doesn’t even have service, no wonder she’s bored with the future and in space)

Ok, I’m trying to remain defensive of Angie but it’s getting harder. CLARA shows up and ruins everything??

Oh, no. Oh wait…the weird chess game between the Doctor and…. “It’s me, Doc. It’s me the Cyberman speaking to you inside your brain. Listen to me, Doc! Leave the girl and the kids, we don’t need them!” It’s still cool to reference the PS5 inside your brain right??

I mean, it’s really good acting on Matt’s part, but no one else is doing anything and it’s hard to make any commentary

Oh yeah, the other half of the plot is a standoff between Clara and generic militaryish leader of the week over when it might or might not be time to blow up the planet. Also Warwick Davis is there

Oh NO!! I mean, of course there was going to be an army of cybermen

Mmmm, the weird flirty relationship between them is still icking me. Even when it’s the Cyberman in his head saying the things

The almost immediate upgrades the cybermen can do is scary

Well, they DID explode the planet.

1000 galaxies is way too much responsibility, can’t blame Clara for turning down being empress

It’s still really weird that Eleven has such part time companions.

[onlyseokmins]

hi elvs I have a currently rot over that gyu photo and oh my god

thinking of chaebol gyu who finished a golf session and is now at dinner but he is giving very not subtle hints by flexing his arms and everything and giving cocky smirks and he can’t be bothered over the aged wine and steak but he wants something more instead 😵‍💫

Listen Aki, I typed this up on a word doc at work cuz I saw your ask and scrEAMED also tagging the bestie wife bc she asked <;3 @chogiwapadada *garbles in shame* ANYWAYS

I have sooo many thoughts for this cuz I’ve been in an ostentatiously rich country club and I feel like gyu really puts and serves the cunt in cuntry club hfsdjfskd

You’re some wealthy heiress to a rival company because your father thinks you’re too good for anyone out there and mingyu’s family are well aware of the rumors floating around you in high society.

But that doesn’t stop gyu. Or you. I mean look at him.

He already thinks you're hot stuff in your dress suits during business exchanges and absolutely ravishing in cocktail dresses during stupid galas. And of course, you're witty as hell. So how’s he supposed to control himself when you show up at the private course in the shortest skirt he’s even seen permitted and a golf shirt NO ONE should ever look that sexy in with that look on your face????

It doesn’t help the whole 18 holes and thousand yards he’s only thinking of a different kind of hole-in-one he wants. You’re bending over wayyyy too frequently, teasing him the entire time in the name of getting a better score than him. Pressing up against his firm figure in the golf cart after refusing to have your usual caddy drive you around, claiming it’d be faster if the two of you rode around together. Even running your hands up and down the veins of his tensed arms, saying he needed help with his form and to relax even though the man was DYING to touch you instead.

But you had that same smug smirk on your face as you did during office hours. That you were better than everyone present and did not need or want him whatsoever. It’s not like the two of you were alone either — the hidden guards scattered around and constant runs of the makeup artists making sure you looked perfect for any cameras that may flash — as if you needed to worry about how you looked when you were flawless anyways. He wasn't opposed to taking you behind that one tree but you were way too classy for that.

He’s biting his bottom lip the ENTIRE time (it's prolly bleeding) and when the match is finally over (you winning ofc bc he was SUPER distracted) he’s not sure if he’s having heat stroke or if it's from watching that bead of sweat dip under your shirt. A place he'd like to be.

You smile sweetly at the paparazzi, kissing a clean golf ball with your signature on it and handing it to one of the sponsors in the crowd and he just about faints on the spot when you claim your victory to “knowing your way around clubs and balls” and sends a wink his way in a saucy manner.

That’ll be on tomorrow’s headlines for sure.

He has about 30 minutes to regain composure when the staff whisks everyone away to dress for a casual, cordial dinner among the attendees.

Not that there’s anything cordial between the two golden heirs. Or casual.

He’s practically eyefucking you the entire dinner, not drooling because of the food. You’re kinda surprised he’s not doing a single thing considering he’s right across from you but that’s just because he’s a lil stupid and prolly didn’t drink a single thing so he's dehydrated af, too busy licking his lips at a different feast. So like all matters of business you excel at, you take it into your own hands.

You announce you’d like to see what dessert the chefs were preparing with an innocent smile to the elders and a direct, challenging look his way before making your way into the overtly fancy hallway. Of course, he follows, with the lame excuse and fake-spiteful comment that you had absolutely no knowledge of desserts but knowing that he’ll like whatever you have to serve.

It’s a shame you never get to see the kitchens. But you do get a full tour of the conference room off to the side. With its heavy gold-plated doors and a long, smooth mahogany table featuring a sky light that has a magnificent view of the blue skies. Not that you two really notice with your eyes.

You make it back just as the chocolate cake was served, complimenting and swallowing the white cream that was definitely not part of the recipe and mingyu grunting how tasty the samples were that never had even been an option.

No one commented on how wrinkled your dress was or how crooked gyu’s collar looked… and that definitely wasn’t your lipstick on his neck. Obviously, it was a far walk because you were both so sweaty and sore after an intense match and of course you had an unfortunate case of tripping over your heels causing you to now walk with a limp. Luckily, mingyu caught you, oh so kindly, and you commented off hand to your parents to set up another dinner party because you just had to express your appreciation.

You might just not mention how it would be shared :)

But you did specify it in writing, like all official agreements, along with your personal phone number, circled with a heart and stamped with a kiss on your scorecard that was slyly slipped in his pants. <3

[anne-i-write]

sweet love

| who would have known that the local bakery could get sebastian to show his soft spot |

sebastian moran x reader

word count: 3609

tw: sexual implications but no actual spice (mostly from sebastian’s “flirting”)

a/n: a little new years gift from me to all of you! i’m sorry it took so long to get another post up but i enjoyed writing this one! hopefully sebastian isn’t too ooc in this idk ig i just have a thing for making characters ooc but it’s very sweet and possibly tooth rotting. i also realize that i got carried away making this one and now you can read through my brain rot lol. ALSO APPARENTLY HES 6’6 THE MAN COULD ABSOLUTELY PUNT ME WHAT anyhow, i hope you all enjoy!! p.s. if you see grammatical errors and incoherent sentences, i just copy pasted from google docs lmao good luck

Sebastian grumbled under his breath, annoyed with the work that William had him do.

“‘Those who do not work in this house aren’t treated as people.’” Sebastian scoffed as he glanced over at the list. “Louis should be glad I’m on good terms with William.”

The ex-colonel should’ve been back at the estate an hour ago but he felt somewhat spiteful and decided to stay out longer. He had finished everything he needed but he had no clue what to do. It was already lunch and his stomach was silently growling but he refused to face the brothers just yet.

That was until he stopped in front of a quaint bakery with the words Fox’s Biscuits painted on a hanging sign.

“Isn’t this…” He looked at the bakery window, mouthwatering biscuits on display for everyone to see.

“These are the biscuits Father bought for me when I was younger.”

Longing for a sense of his childhood, Sebastian walked into the small shop.

In an instant, the sickly sweet smell of chocolate hit his nose and the bell above the door rang out. It was a small space but one could feel the dedication put into the little treats. “Hello?” Sebastian called out as soon as he realized he had been alone for at least two minutes.

“Just a moment!”

Crashes and clangs could be heard from behind a door that presumably led to a kitchen. You burst through the door, your apron stained with chocolate and your right cheek was covered in a light dust of flour.

Sebastian stared at you with wide eyes, not sure if he should focus on the disorderly ruin that was yourself or the absolute charm that you carried. “You have a little something—” He pointed to his cheek and your cute eyes widened a smidge.

You frantically turned around, swiping at both cheeks and turning around when you felt like you were clean. “How may I help you today?”

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat when you smiled widely, his cheeks feeling a little flush. He shook his head.

“Those biscuits by the door; how much are they?” You took a step to the side to see which one he was talking about. “Oh, it’s 10 shillings for each one.” You informed him, walking to the stacked treats with a cloth in hand. “How many would you like?”

A sly grin painted Sebastian’s features and he turned to face you. “3 pieces please.” You barely picked up the second biscuit before you felt a presence looming behind you. “Perhaps, I can have you too if I pay extra.” He whispered in your ear.

Heat spread across your face as you quickly shoved the rest of the biscuits in the small bag. You shoved the biscuits his way and held out your other hand expectantly. “Th-That’s 30 shillings!” You cursed the way you stuttered.

Sebastian laughed at your flustered state as he handed you the payment. He shot you a teasing glance.

“I can’t bake very well but I can show you how good I am with my hands.” Your eyes widened again at the implication and you shoved him towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming to our bakery!” You breathed out a sigh of relief. One patron down… only many more to come.

The ex-colonel swung the bag leisurely as he strode into the manor, forgetting about lunch. “Where were you, Sebastian?” Louis asked as soon as he opened the door.

“Getting myself food.”

The bell rang in your little family shop and you smiled, heading out to greet the next customer with freshly baked biscuits in hand.

“Good afternoon–” Your smile dropped when you realized who came into the bakery.

“What’s with the frown, sweetheart?” Sebastian cooed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you not wish I would come back?”

“I wish you never came at all.” The man stilled for a moment but laughed when you walked past him to restock the display case. “You were here yesterday, were you not?” He turned to see you carefully placing the treats on the platter. “Yes but I’m here to buy more of those delicious biscuits you sell.”

Sebastian stalked closer to you just as you spun around to point the tray in his face. “Personal space, please.” He raised his hands in resignation and backed up. You walked back to the counter to place the warm tray on top. “You weren’t complaining yesterday.”

“I didn’t expect yesterday. Now, how many biscuits would you like?” Before he opened his mouth, you continued. “And buy enough so I don’t have to see you again.”

Sebastian laughed again, enjoying your quips. “You seem very spirited today, m’love.” You rolled your eyes. “Either you buy something or you can get out of the shop.” The man walked towards you but you stood your ground this time, arms crossed.

“Your biscuits are delicious but I bet you taste even better.” Your face heated up and Sebastian grinned. “Th-The way out is right behind you.”

Why do I always stutter?

“You’re adorable when you get shy on me.” You shot him a pointed glare and he chuckled. “I’ll have the whole display.” Sebastian thoroughly enjoyed the way your shy attitude appeared when he spoke.

“Th-The whole—” Sebastian chuckled and leaned on a nearby wall. “Yes, sweetheart; the whole case.” Of course, you needed the money but could the man even afford it?

“Th-That’s 100 shillings.” Sebastian took another glance at the display and shook his head. “Come now sweetheart, all of that is at least 600 shillings.” You shook your head.

“600 shillings is too much!” The thought of even getting mad at his previous words flew out of your head as he insisted on paying the full price. “Please, I’ll lower the price.”

Sebastian smiled as he reached into his coat and pulled out a satchel of coins. “It must have taken a painstakingly long time to make all those biscuits, it’s only right I pay you in full.” He placed the bag on the counter and you slid it back towards him. “I don’t have time to count 100 shillings! Please, that would be more than enough.”

This continued on for another ten minutes before he finally got you to settle on paying half of the original price.

“Enjoy your biscuits!” You called out to him just as the door barely closed behind him. Thankfully the door had a large glass pane and he turned around, offering a small wave before walking off.

You watched as he left the front of the shop and your eyes drifted to the empty display case.

“What in God’s name happened.”

Sebastian was aware that the last time he saw you was the other day, but he did comprehend that coming back the day after buying 60 biscuits would look rather odd. Telling Louis he had to run an errand in the town, the ex-colonel set off to your little bakery. Considering how empty it was the last two times he saw you, Sebastian expected it to be the same.

What he didn’t expect was a large crowd that seemed too big to be inside of the bakery.

Sebastian carefully opened the door and was greeted with the bustling sound of people chatting as they waited for their treats. Being the tall man he was, he searched for you in the crowd until he saw you rush out of the kitchen with your hair a complete mess.

“Thank you for being so patient, have a great day!” You said breathlessly and the patron nodded, wishing you well before leaving. They passed by Sebastian and he watched as they left the shop. He turned his attention back to you, who wore the same smile that made his heart stutter as you helped the next customer.

God only knows how long Sebastian was in the shop but the last customer left and you slumped against the counter. “Is that how you hold yourself in front of your patrons?” You groaned and he laughed.

“You bought 60 biscuits the other day and I still have to make the next batch, why are you back?” You glanced up at him and he shrugged. “Can I not wait for the biscuits?” You kept staring at him and he shot you a questioning glance.

“I can give you an estimated time for when the biscuits are done.” You yawned as you stood up and stretched. “I saw you come in a while ago, do you not have anywhere to be?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter and sighed. “Not today.”

Not having the energy to make him leave, you simply walked back into the kitchen and he watched as the door swung behind you.

It had been three minutes since you disappeared behind the doors and Sebastian was about to leave before you emerged from the kitchen. “If you’re staying until I make the next batch, then I want you to try this.” You said as you place down a small plate with two chocolate covered biscuits. “My father doesn’t know about these so I want to see if these taste good.” He took a glance at the plate and looked up at you.

“You couldn’t try them yourselves?” He asked as you stood across from him, arms folded. “I’d be favored to like them because I made them.” A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other.

“They’re not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about.” An impressed look crossed Sebastian’s face as he picked up the biscuit and ate it. You watched closely as the man in front of you chewed your creation. “Is that jam and cream?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s indecent.” Sebastian snorted as he took another bite. “You sound like my mum.” You smiled softly as he started to reach for the second one.

“Keep staring like that, I might have to eat something else.” He said as he winked at you.

“Y-You—!”

Sebastian’s visits became routine and each time he came in, your day got a little better. You scoffed. Like you would ever tell him that.

“Darling!” Sebastian called out as he opened the door. “You know, I don’t even know your name and you’ve been coming here for two weeks.” You stated as you cleaned down the counter.

“Aw, you want to put a name to a face so you can moan it tonight?” He cooed and you slammed your towel down, flustered. “O-One day without suggesting those things! I-Is that too much to ask?” Sebastian laughed and you went back to furiously wiping down the counter.

He smiled as he walked towards you and placed his hand on yours. “If you keep scrubbing like that, the wood will wear down.” You sighed and relaxed your grip on the washing cloth. “Your hands are warm.” You said and he chuckled.

“The cloth’s gone cold.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t realize.” Sebastian snorted and took the cloth out of your hands. “Here.” He took both of your hands and held them in his, breathing out slowly on them. He looked at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

If you were working yourself that much, he would make you take this short break to relax.

You looked up at your hands and suddenly felt shy at the intimate contact. “(Y/N),” you muttered, looking away.

Sebastian glanced up at you and huffed softly. “Sebastian.” You continued to let him warm up your hands.

A serene silence fell over the two of you as he exhaled softly on your hands.

That was until your sister barged into the shop, back from the market. “(Y/N)!” All three of you paused as you stared at each other. You watched as your sister’s eyes traveled from yours to your intertwined hands and you instantly flared up.

“I was just handing him biscuits!” You yelped, yanking your hands out of Sebastian’s. You looked at him and nodded your head towards the exit. “Thank you so much for coming!” Sebastian grinned and he leaned in closer to you. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

He knew he said this loud enough for you sister to hear. “Good day!” He smiled innocently, nodding to the girl by the door and walked out.

You watched as he left, not noticing your sister walking up and taking her place next to you. She watched with you as Sebastian walked away and took note of the subtle starry gaze in your eyes.

“Now I understand why you always want to watch the shop.”

You fidgeted as Sebastian walked into the shop once again. What was this? His 40th time at the shop? You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

I will ask him!

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?” Even through the teasing tone, you could hear some worry and you just decided to spit it out.

“Would you like to accompany me to the moorish dance tonight?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as you stared up at him with unintentionally large eyes. The man knew he had a persona to hold in front of you but felt himself failing as he struggled to fight the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Only if you’ll accompany me to my bed tonight.” He watched as your eyes narrowed and you puffed out your chest, crossing your arms. “Forget I asked.” He laughed as you turned away from him. “I’m just playing around!” You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned away again.

“You’re pouting!”

“No I’m not!”

You two continued to bicker until he apologized, albeit through laughs. “I’m serious though, Sebastian.” He looked at you with a fond smile and he exhaled.

“I’d be honored.” You turned to face him with the same smile you used when you first greeted him, except this time it was wider and you looked like you were about to bounce over the counter. “But I really thought I would be the first to ask you.”

“Let customs lay themselves to rest for a bit, Sebastian.”

The dance was some time later at night so you decided to close shop early and walk around the town with Sebastian.

He had never seen you so talkative before and it was very interesting to see you speak without having to put him in his place every five minutes.

“So, do you and your sister run the bakery by yourselves?” Sebastian asked as you walked down the bustling road. “Lately. My father had been overworking himself so my sister and I decided to take over for him.” You smiled as a girl ran past your legs, her little brother following shortly after.

He watched on with a fond look as you continued talking about the bakery and all the baking mishaps that made you the person you were today. “That sounds like it requires a lot of effort.” You chuckled as you reached a secluded tree, not too far from the town but enough to be alone.

“It does, but the son of my father’s friend likes to help from time to time.” The sound of a possible competitor peaked his interest and sat down beside you on the grass. “The son of your father’s friend?” You nodded as you stared at the town and leaned on the tree.

“He’s a wonderful boy, very enthusiastic about helping me and my sister.” You turned to face him with an excited expression. “Oh, I’ll introduce you at the dance later! He’s helping the men set up but we should be able to see him!” The alpha male in Sebastian refused to let himself lose the one good thing he could possibly have in his life.

“You hid the whole jar?”

“Mrs. Pettor makes the best jams! I wasn’t going to let my family finish it!” Sebastian laughed as you defended yourself.

It was almost time for the dance and you both were walking to the town center.

“I’ve been talking all this time.” You realized and you turned to Sebastian. “Tell me more about—” You cut yourself off with a squeak as you were lifted off of your feet.

Sebastian watched as a blonde boy swung you around. “A-Alexander!” The boy put you down, a grin on his face.

The blond boy looked at you and you smiled back before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Oh, right!” You turned to face Sebastian and grinned. “Alexander, this is Sebastian! Sebastian, Alexander!” The shorter man held out his hand, blue eyes instantly hardening.

“Hello Sebastian,” Alexander said as Sebastian shook his hand. “Alexander.” You looked between the two and felt a tense aura emanating from them before you clapped your hands.

“Shall we go to the dance?” Alexander let go of Sebastian’s hand and immediately faced you. “Of course!” The blond grabbed your hand and you were barely able to get ahold of Sebastian’s before Alexander took off running.

Cheers and music filled the air and the sound of shoes hitting stone echoed throughout the streets. Despite knowing most of the faces, you spent most of your time talking with Sebastian about stories from each of your lives.

“(Y/N)!” You turned your head and saw Alexander heading towards you, out of breath and sweaty from dancing. You excused yourself from the conversation and Alexander stopped in front of you. “I never did thank you for working more than you should have these last few days.” You laughed as you waved him off. “It’s nothing you should thank me for, Alexander. My sister helped so it wasn’t all bad.”

Alexander took a glance at Sebastian, who had been mobbed by most of the town women and looked like he was trying to hold his own. “Would you like to dance?” His question caught you off guard. “I invited Sebastian, I couldn’t leave him…” You turned to see a group of girls crowding around the man and your smile faltered. “One dance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Sebastian!” He looked up from the group of girls and saw you waving. He was about to move until he saw your hand in Alexander’s. “I’m going to dance for a bit!” You laughed as Alexander pulled you to the dance area. Alexander chuckled at you as you told Sebastian of your whereabouts. At least you had the decency to tell him you were dancing with another man.

“So how’d you meet Sebastian?” Alexander asked as you danced to the music. “He came into the shop one day and just kept visiting!” You smiled and the boy in front of you exhaled softly, deciding to drop the topic and talk to your sister about it later.

The former colonel no longer focused on the girls in front of him as he watched you laugh hard at something Alexander said and his heart beat faster in his chest. Out of jealousy or awe, he couldn’t tell. But the way your eyes shone under the golden glow of the street lamps told him to move and get you.

He pushed his way through the crowd of ladies and kept his eyes trained on your carefree figure. Your skin looked so beautiful under this light, maybe you were the one who lit up the town. Your smile alone had enough energy to do so anyway.

“May I have a dance with (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked as he reached you and Alexander. The blond man smiled and your eyes sparkled in delight. “Of course.” Alexander gently let go of your hand and placed it in Sebastian’s.

“Thank you Alexander!” You called out and he turned around, sending you a soft smile and a small wave before walking towards your sister.

You turned your gaze back to Sebastian and you grinned. “Did you get jealous?” Sebastian scoffed before shaking his head. “I don’t get jealous.” You laughed as you felt Sebastian pull you closer. “I saw you looking at Alexander like he was going to steal me away.” You pointed out with a smug smile.

“He did steal you away.” You grinned at him.

“You’re pouting.”

“N-No I’m not!” You laughed and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink. “Aw, you’re adorable when you get shy on me!” You cooed, using the exact same words he said to you a while back.

“You—” He picked you up by the waist and you squealed as he lifted you up. “You think you’re so smart.” He muttered as he placed you back down and you looked up at him, your skin shining from sweat and short breaths leaving your lips.

He instantly leaned in, placing a short kiss on your lips and your eyes widened before trying to chase him before he pulled away. “You do taste better than your biscuits.” You buried your head in Sebastian’s chest in embarrassment and he laughed as he started to lead the dance once more.

“Because of that, I’m charging you the rest of the 60 biscuits you bought.” Sebastian feigned hurt. “But that’s too much!” You rolled your eyes and smiled up at him. “I’m sure if you don’t want to pay, Louis can help me find something for you to do to pay me back.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and you giggled at the sour look on his face. “I’m sure you can help around the shop to pay them off, if you don’t want Louis to get involved.” His eyes softened before gently grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss to it.

“If it means I get to see you everyday, it will have been worth it.”

tags: @zoehanji @infinitebells

[americasmarauders]

can I request a Jason todd x reader fic based on list 1, prompt #26 plsss🧸🦦

yo, this got done quickly cause I had a draft already started that fit ~perfectly~ with the prompt. was it sitting on my docs for like 8 months? yes it was. I tweaked it a bit and, seriously, it’s so fluffy I might die. 

words: 1,426 (it’s very short i’m sorry, but I swear it’s good)

warnings: blood, wounds, tooth-rotting fluff. 

prompt: when it’s a slow burn, and the characters just look at each other like “fuck it i’m done with this” and kiss

my masterlist

Jason considered himself lots of things. He was practical, well read, and he’d even admit he was a little violent sometimes. But he never considered himself a coward. 

He used to be smooth, charm the pants off any girl he wanted to talk to, easily and quickly. He would open doors and shoot a brilliant smile their way, and he would listen to their heart picking up a beat. There was a sense of pride in that, making a girl fall for him for a night, a twisted accomplishment that proved to himself he wasn’t a dead man walking, just a man. 

With her, well, he was just an idiot.

It was frustrating. In his brain, he was charming her ass off, sweeping her off her feet and dreaming of something more with her. His mouth didn’t comprehend what his brain wanted, the words would get stuck in the tip of his tongue. No matter how much he tried, the voice in his head would stop him. 

Even if he seemed a complete ass next to her, she never faltered next to him. She was always there, showering him with kindness and understanding. A smile never seemed to leave her face, even when she was sad, he could tell she gathered her energy to show him a little sign that she was okay. She was his constant. She was his gravity center. That terrified him. 

He had enemies. Too many enemies. Normally, he wouldn’t care about those seeing him underneath the sun. He would meet them with his guns and he would leave a trail of bodies behind him (all of them alive, unfortunately). But after her, his modus operandi changed. 

Everything he did was a secret, paranoid that if word got out of who he was under the hood, she would be targeted. The mere thought of her being at the end of the barrel of a gun sent him in a spiral. He couldn’t afford that risk, she couldn’t be killed, not because of him. It would kill him.

Why did he have to fall for her? He asked himself that constantly. It would have been simpler, easier, if he had nothing to lose, nothing to look forward to after a long night. It would be only his mission and himself. 

In other words, he would become Bruce. That thought made him angry, he had vowed to not become him. He would shake the thought and think about her. Her smile, her eyes and spirit. All the little things she despised about herself, but that made her just her. Jason loved her completely. Unlike Bruce, he couldn’t deprive himself of love. Even if it came with fears and a crushing sense of inadequacy. 

She made his life better, that much he was certain. Falling for her was a blessing dressed as a curse. He had received an angel in his life. He wasn’t about to ruin that. ‘Don’t sabotage yourself,’ Tim said once. ‘You have a shot, Jay. I know that. Don’t let your insecurities get in the way.’

Even with that constant reminder echoing in his head, he couldn’t get himself out of his way. He would think about all the things that could go wrong, all the ways they could get to her, and he would freeze. 

Jason Todd was a coward. Jason Todd was in love. 

#

#

He would always get into her apartment sneakily. It was charming that he would use the front door, unlike the first few times he had got in through the window. He would always ditch the tactical gear, getting in just in an undershirt and pants. 

She usually heard him getting in. It was a silent pact they made the first few times they started the arrangement. He would make some noise when he came in, that way she wouldn’t have a heart attack when she woke up and found him on her couch. Her sleep was light anyway, she would wake up with a quiet sound. 

The sound of him opening the front door woke her up. Instinctively, she got up and headed to the bathroom. She quickly grabbed the first aid kit - that seemed to grow everytime she went to the farmacy - and went in his direction.  

She rubbed her eyes sleepy, yawning when she saw him for the first time that night. He had helped himself to an ice pack, resting on his left eye. In the faint lighting of the lamp she could see the white streak of his hair glued to his forehead with sweat and blood. His feet hung lazily over the hand rest of the couch, his boots discarded next to her front door. There was a stain on his side, probably caused by a bloody wound.

“Rough night?” she asked quietly, kneeling beside him. He turned to see her, lifting slightly the ice pack to reveal a nasty black eye. It was getting swollen, his eye barely opened. 

“You could say that,” he chuckled, humourlessly, resting the ice pack once again on his eye. 

She smiled at him, her eyes trailed on the gauze package on her hand. Her fingers delicately brushed on his skin, lifting his shirt to reveal the cut. Jason had fast healing, something he never explained how he got it, no matter how much she asked. The cut wasn’t as deep as it had been how many hours it had been made, it was still nasty and bloodied. She rested the gauze on it, and he hissed in pain. “Sorry,” she mumbled quietly. Everytime she ever provoked any pain in him she apologized. He hadn’t told her much, and she hadn’t pressed him, knowing it hurt too much for him to talk, but she knew he hadn’t received kindness in abundance in his life. She swore to herself that would never happen again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Nah,” he gripped the ice pack tightly, as she rubbed an antiseptic on his wound. She knew he thought she wouldn’t notice, but she did. “Just normal shit. Don’t worry.”

Her eyes flicked to his face, illuminated by the faint orange glow of her lamp. His face was angelic, even with the stubble and the cuts and the frown he would often sport. He was an angel, nothing could convince her otherwise. He was her angel, the motive she always had a pack of mint tea in her kitchen cabinet and a mallet full of gauze and antiseptic. She would do anything for him, he’d just have to ask her. 

“I can’t not worry,” the confession left her lips life a prayer. Her heart raced in her chest, her eyes focused on bandaging the almost gone cut on his side. It wouldn’t even leave a scar. “I’m afraid it’s quite impossible, Jay.”

He turned his head to her, abandoning the ice pack on his stomach. His eye wasn’t swollen anymore, and she could see his beautiful blue iris finally. His eyes were usually cold and stony towards any other person, but never towards her. Not once his eyes held anything other than  warmth and affection when he looked at her. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered to her. He looked at her soul when she said that, said like he meant it with all his heart. “I don’t.”

“Don’t say that,” she abandoned the gauze and cradled his face with her hands. She was careful not to graze his bruised cheekbone, looking firmly at him. “I decide whether or not you deserve me Jason, and you do.”

He opened a rare smile, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes didn’t leave hers, she could almost see the thought process going on in his head. “Fuck it,” he mumbled, getting up. His hands found their way to her faces, grabbing it gently. He brought his lips close to hers, hovering over them for a split second before colliding them together. 

The kiss was gentle and slow, both testing the waters. It was a long time in the making, both used to guarding their feelings closely. He interrupted the kiss, resting his forehead on hers, His thumb gently grazed on her cheekbones, caressing her delicately and lovingly. “I’m sorry,” he confessed, “I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

She smiled at him, her eyes trailed oh his. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

And he did. And he would everytime she asked for the rest of her life. 

[teddy06writes]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Dallas Winston x Johnny Cade x Reader

trigger warnings: character death, swearing, yelling, ANGST

premise: based on the song The Night We Met by Lord Huron. The rumbles been finished, the socs officially driven out, but Johnny's still dying, and Dally might not be able to handle that. Oh god, why can't you just go back to the night you met

Italics- memories

{not me making the first proper poly outsiders story really angsty. Sorry not sorry but I heard the song and- this happened}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We did it! The socs are gone!" The loud cheers of the greasers filled your ears.

You grinned, laughing along with the others until you found Dallas tugging at your arm, when you turned to see his expression your face fell, "What's wrong?"

"Johnny- gettin worse-"

As soon as your partner choked out the words you began to panic, "Is he okay?"

"I don't know for how much longer... We gotta go see him-"

You nodded, "Lets- lets go then- we gotta-"

"He- Ponyboy-" He was quickly running off, dragging the boy off the ground and explaining as you ran up to the street, where you could see Buck's beat up t-bird parked.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!" You could hear Dally urging him along.

"I'm going!" Ponyboy hissed, quickly skirting around you and jumping into the back.

You quickly got in, and as soon as Dallas got the car started you were shooting off down the road.

The tension in the car was thick, anxiety rolling off all three of you in waves.

It was a few months ago and You'd just gotten out of work, and normally Johnny and Dallas would be on the corner waiting for you, but they hadn't been there. Somehow, you knew something was wrong.

By the time you'd made it to the lot, most of the gang was there. Steve met you up by the road, '(y/n) don't go down there- you- you aren't gonna like it'

That was what had gotten you in a panic, 'steve whats going on?'

'it's- it's- Johnny-'

Immediately you were pushing past him, running down into the lot, even as both Steve and Soda tried to stop you.

When you'd finally pushed through them, you'd found Johnny, beaten and bloody, face buried in Dally's jacket, still sobbing.

'oh- god Johnny...'

With Dally's speeding it was only a matter of time before a cop was pulling the car over, and you glanced back at Ponyboy, "Look sick- I will too- Dal say your taking us to the hospital, it's true enough."

He nodded, and the cop knocked on the window, leaning over as Dallas lowered it, "Good evening Officer-"

"Alright Bud, where's the fire?"

"The uh- the kid-" Dally gestured back to where Ponyboy was slumped in the back, "Fell over on 'is motorcycle- nearly took out the babe, I'm takin 'em to the hospital."

The man frowned, "Are they real bad? Could you use an escort?"

"Do I look like a doc to you?" He snapped, "Yeah we could use an escort."

The officer seemed to hear the panic in his voice as he nodded, heading back to his car. Dallas continued to tap his fingers on the wheel anxiously, "Come on, come on."

You bit your lip, "God Dal why'd we end up in this mess- Johnny's-"

"I knew I was wrong. I knew I was fucking wrong," He muttered, pulling out behind the cop, "I was just trying to protect you guys- you know? Figured there's only room for one person hard like me in a relationship- you know? That way you two would at least be okay and look what fucking came from it!"

You took a shaky breath as he slapped the wheel, "Dal..."

"You know if I hadn't tried to keep you and him from ending up like me he wouldn't be in this mess! If he'd been smart like me he wouldn'ta ran into that church and you wouldn't have followed him! That's what you get for helping people- isn't it? A couple editorials in the paper and a whole lotta hurt!"

He stopped, glancing back at Ponyboy, "You better wise up kid- you get tough like me and you don't get hurt! You get tough and no one can touch you!"

Ponyboy only groaned in response.

Dallas sighed, turning to look at you, "God (y/n) I don't know- what are we gonna do if we-"

"He's going to be fine Dal!" You snapped.

"You don't know that!"

You shook your head, "He's gonna be fine because I don't want to think about what will happen if he isn't!"

It was only a month or so after Dallas, Dallas of all people, put what the three of you were thinking into words.

You'd decided to take a trip down to Texas, there was no real reason, but still, the three of you had piled into Buck Merril's t-bird, racing down back roads and pulling off into fields at night.

Johnny had fallen asleep in the back just after sunset, and you could still feel the cool glass behind your head, 'god dal, aren't you tired yet? maybe we should pull off now...'

'I was thinking we get a motel somewhere.' he yawned.

'where are we gonna find a motel at? I'm about ready to fall asleep as it is...'

He chuckled, 'don't worry about it Doll... hell climb back with Johnny, I'll wake you up when we get to town.'

Soon you were pulling up outside the hospital, hurrying to get Pony out of the car as Dallas thanked the cop. As soon as the man was gone Dally was grabbed your hand and pulling you to hurry through the building, "Come on, come on!"

It seemed to take only the blink of an eye to get to Johnny's room, and you only half seemed to register the doctors words, "I'm sorry- he's dying."

"We gotta see 'im," Dallas glared at the man, "We've got to see him!"

"Please-" You half choked on the room, trying to look around him into the room.

With a sigh, he stepped to the side, "Go on-"

In an instant you were rushing to Johnny's side, "Johnny..."

You could feel Dallas behind you, "Johnnycake?"

"Heya (y/n)- Dal..." Johnny tried to pull a weak smile as he looked up at you.

"We won-" Dallas reached out, grabbing his hand, "We beat the socs- chased 'em right out of your territory."

"Fighting's no good.... useless...." Johnny half sighed.

You took a shaky breath, "There still writing those editorials- talkin about you, calling you a hero-- I'm proud of you baby-- we both are."

Dallas nodded, and Johnny's head half tipped back in a grin, "You'll be okay... I love you..."

"Johnny--" Dallas half choked.

Ponyboy elbowed past both of you, "He's my best friend--"

Your eyes were half clouded with tears as you stepped back, little moments filling your memory.

It was the state fair, and you were with them.

'come on Dal- your not scared of the ferris wheel are you?' Johnny half taunted.

you grinned, 'you've gotta go on- for us'

'i hate both of you'

Johnny mumbled something to Ponyboy, and then suddenly the room wasn't the same anymore. Almost as if someone had left. You didn't need to look back at the bed to know.

It was a late night, months ago

'(y/n)... (y/n).... (y/n)....'

'what dal?'

'johnnycakes is complaing about wanting cuddles'

Johnny scoffed, 'uh, excuse me, but that is entirely you, Dal.'

you chuckled 'i'll be there in a second'

He was gone.

You could hear Ponyboy's breath hitch, and, with shaky hands you reached forward, pushing hair out of Johnny's face, "Never could keep that hair of yours back could you baby?"

Dallas let out a noise that felt too close to a sob, "that's what you get for trying to help people Jonnycakes- that's what you get."

The lump in your throat couldn’t be pushed back anymore and you choked on a sob, tears falling from your eyes as you turned to Dallas only to see he wasn’t there.

He'd already whirled away from Johnny's bed, banging a fist against the wall, "Damn it Johnny! Oh god Johnny no..."

Dallas was gone down the hall before you could blink.

In a haze, you found yourself following Ponyboy through the hospital, being handed a jacket it took you a beat to long to remember was Johnny's.

Slowly you slid it on, almost instantly dragged back in memory again.

It was been late.

You hadn't planned on going out, but when you saw the light out in the lot you had to check it out. You'd found Johnny and Dally, sitting around a small fire they'd made.

'what are you doing out here?' you asked, sitting down.

Johnny shrugged, 'better than home.'

'beats rotting there.' Dallas nodded.

You had sat in silence for a few minutes before you sighed, rubbing at your arms, "awfully cold out here.'

'here' Johnny shrugged off his jacket, dropping it around your shoulders.

You were grateful for the jacket, but it didn't feel right. God all you wanted to do was go back, back to before all of this.

Somehow Ponyboy led you out of the hospital, and by some miracle you made it back to the Curtis house.

Soda opened the door, frowning, "What's wrong? Where have you two been?"

Ponyboy took a shaky breath, "Johnny's dead... Dallas- he left- (y/n)... I don't think they..."

Soda was already pulling you inside, and pushing you to sit down as Pony explained to everyone else.

"What do you mean Dallas is gone?" Darrel asked.

"He ran out," Your own voice surprised you, "Before it was the three of us it was just him and Johnny- he doesn't know how to live without him-"

"So even Dally has a breaking point." Two-Bit muttered.

Distantly, you heard a phone ring.

It has been a date night- ‘god (y/n) why you takin so long?'

'don't rush 'em Johnnycakes, gotta fix that pretty face of theirs'

'Johnny's being pushy? that's something I wouldn't think I'd see.' you chuckled, coming out of the bathroom.

'well the movies gonna start!'

Darry was talking to the group, "That was Dally- the cops are after him, we gotta meet 'im at the lot-"

Before the words were out of his mouth you were up and running, you couldn't get back to Johnny but you could still get back to Dallas.

It was midday, and you were wandering down the Tulsa streets

'Dal slow down! We don't walk as fast as you!' Johnny called.

He laughed, 'i bet if you tried you could keep up shortstack'

'i'm not short!' you protested.

'well then keep up!'

Down the street, toward the lot, faster, faster faster, you urged yourself. You can't loose him too.

it was early, you were sitting out on the porch with Johnny, watching the rain. Dallas had come out of somewhere, running and breathing hard, 'you got room for one more?'

You could almost see the lot, it was just out of view, you had to hurry, had to hurry to get back-

It was lunch time and you were at the diner with the gang, wedged into a seat between Johnny and Dallas, laughing.

The glow of the street light filled your vison now.

It was dark and you and Dallas hurried through the street, calling out for Johnny.

'i'm here! I'm here!' he called.

You threw your arms around him, 'you scared me!'

Dallas chuckled, 'both of us.'

Dallas was sprinting down the street glancing back every now and again, distantly you could see flashing lights behind him.

It was Autumn and you were back at the fair in the chilly night. Lights were flashing, people were laughing and you were with your boys.

Dallas was reaching back, into his waistband, grabbing something as police cars came to a halt.

It was spring, and day trips were frequent, but this was the first with just you, Dallas and Johnny. You'd found a lake, and now the three of you were spending a day by it's side.

Dallas was raising the gun, but so were the police officers, distantly you wondered if one of them was the same that had given you the escort.

It was years ago, and you had met Sodapop in class.

Shots were being fired, and you could distantly hear yourself yelling, he was falling, falling falling.

It was years ago and Sodapop was inviting you to meet his friends. It was years ago and a boy with big brown eyes was smiling at you from across the lunch table, turning to the sharp nosed blond next to him, who leaned across the table to tell a joke.

Dallas was on the ground, and as the gang who at some point caught up to you were screaming at the officers who'd put him there.

You crumpled to the ground. No, not him. Not Johnny. Not the both of them.

"Oh god take me back!" You were yelling, sobbing, as they were trying to take him away, "Take me back to when we first met! Maybe we won't fuck it up this time!"

But Soda was pulling you back, even as you promised, "I wouldn't let you fuck it up this time- just take me back!"

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

[whump-a-la-mode]

A Rather Odd Heist AKA The Trophy Room

Hi! I don’t know what this is and I have (at the time of writing) work in four hours! I had this idea in a daydream and just had to get it down in writing.

I apologize if the formatting is weird. I usually write in the tumblr text editor but this was written in docs.

CW//Threats, talk of injury, talk of disease, poison, death threats, descriptions of pain, restraints, medical emergencies, collars, chains, dehumanization, being kept as a trophy

    The wound felt like disease.

    It was a long slash, started at the front of Hero’s chest, just below the clavicle, and extending to the middle of their shoulder blade. The pain was white hot, tearing through skin and into sensitive flesh below, but more than that, even as the wound was carved, the feeling of infection, of poison, seeping in was overwhelming. 

    They lost the balance from the pain alone, slamming into the worn tile floor of the subway platform with a crack from their cheekbone. 

    Their assailant, on the other hand, landed with far more grace, on their feet. Hibou’s claws, wicked constructions of metal that had clearly recently been to the whetting stone, curled inwards towards their palm. Not far, though. The twelve inch long weapons constricted their movement, not that they minded. The aluminum feathers attached to their rust-painted goggles twitched with amusement.

    “I really thought they’d sent someone with a little more skill in… standing.” They smirked, though it stretched their mouth far too wide, enough to make Hero uncomfortable. “Do they not teach you that at HQ?”

    Hero grumbled out a half-hearted reply that even they were unable to make out. After a moment of catching their breath, they scrambled to their feet; every movement of their shoulder sending a new wave of agony through the marred flesh. 

    They met Hibou’s gaze (or, at least, the black lenses of their goggles), holding it for a long moment. The world around them took a shuddering breath as a weak gust of wind managed to find its way into the abandoned subway tunnel. 

    Through Hero’s mind ran half a dozen half-baked plans. Diversions and threats they could carry out, attacks they could make. None would work, certainly, but it occupied their panic-addled mind until the footsteps sounded behind them.

    They dared not spin around and let Hibou out of their sight, but they were acutely aware of the two pairs of feet, one on either side, approaching to surround them.

    “This one was spying.” Hibou glanced to one of the unseen figures, the one on Hero’s right. “And you know what they thought would be a good hiding spot? You wanna know?”

    “Course we wanna know.” The voice had a snakelike quality to it, hissed out between fangs.

    “The catwalk! The broken down catwalk. You always said that if anyone ever walked up there it’d fall, and guess what! You were right.”

    A barrier of cackling penned Hero in on all sides for a moment. The slash on their shoulder didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the pinpricks of disease refused to stop.

    “So, that begs the question.” Hibou continued. “What are we going to do with them?”

    Hero felt as though a wire was tightened around their neck. In a motion that surprised even themself, they leapt onto the tracks, running along the rusty metal for a moment before attempting to struggle their way out of the other side.

    The cold, scaly hand gripped them before they had any chance to do so. With a horrifying strength, and a bold show of it, the hand threw them up, slamming them onto their back. A clawed hand pressed to their chest, foot-long blades threatening to prick into their skin. Those rusty goggles stared down at them in a way that seemed almost playful.

    It was supposed to be a simple mission, they couldn’t help but recall as they lay there, well-sharpened blades likely only a few inches of flesh away from their rapidly beating heart. 

    Despite their seniority within the Heroes’ Organization, the amount of solo missions they were assigned to was low. Extremely so. Even lower than that of some of the recruits and cadets. Most would have been bothered by the fact-- fearing that their superiors thought them to be worthless or not good enough. That fear didn’t apply to Hero, however.

    No. They knew exactly why they spent most of their days stalking around base, chatting with the medical staff or the engineers.

    After all, healing powers wouldn’t get you very far in a fight.

    Hell, they hadn’t even been supposed to go on this particular spying mission in the first place. Yet, of course, the cadet who was meant to take the simple job had broken their leg in a training accident. 

    It had sounded simple. Almost deceptively so-- as if there should have been something more to the whole thing. But, no. It was exactly as easy as it had been drawn out to be. Sneak into the villains’ temporary base, find out their numbers and exactly what kind of weaponry they possessed, and report back.

    They could have done it in an afternoon. But they just had to have taken the chance with the catwalk. They could have run, they’d had the chance, but…

    They’d been too scared. That was the other reason they were always stuck at base. They were a coward. The mission directors knew it.

    “What, hey, don’t die on me yet. That’d be boring.”

    Hibou’s voice cut through their swirling thoughts. Their eyes focused on the empty goggles looming above them.

    “And I hate when things are boring. So, answer my question.”

    “I- w- wh-”

    “Ugh. I said, what should we do with you?”

    “L- L-”

    “Come on, use your words.”

    “Let me go.” It croaked out of their parched throat like a forced tear. “Please.”

    “Oh, well, since you said please…” They rolled their eyes. “How about this. Let’s put it to a vote. This is a democracy, after all.”

    Next to Hibou’s goggled face appeared two more. One sharp and scaled around the eyes, the other with hair that hung down in wet mats. Akula and Zema. 

    “So, guys, what do you think? What should we do with them?”

    Hero felt to be a rabbit surrounded by cats.

    “Hey, boss?” Zema-- the scaled one-- spoke up. “What’s that on their shoulder?”

    “Hm?” Though their eyes could not be seen, Hero just knew that, in that moment, they lit up. “Oh, that. Now that is a good idea, Zema.”

    “Wh- What did you do to me!” Hero fought to jerk upwards, but was only met with a sharp hand forcing them back down. 

    “Oh, you know…” Hibou raised their other hand, the one not holding their captive down. The claws curled into as close to a fist as they could get. “When you came in to interrupt me and my work, I was just finishing up a special batch of… hm… what would a layman call it. A biopoison, I believe.”

    Hero choked.

    “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that, huh? That’s what you get for interrupting my work.”

    “So… they’re just gonna die?” Akula questioned.

    “Hm? Oh, I mean, without intervention, yes. Not immediately, though I could arrange that.” Ever so slightly, the claws moved towards Hero’s neck. “I guess we should probably just do that.”

    “W- Wait!” Hero gasped. “If it’s going to, uh, if it’s going to kill me anyways, then why not just let me go? It doesn’t matter either way, right?”

    Hibou smiled that horrible, wide smile.

    “You know, the little coward has a point. That’d be a lot more fun. You don’t want to die, though, do you?”

    One of those claws curled beneath Hero’s chin, forcing it upwards with the blunt end. It didn’t cut, but they knew that with any false move, it would.

    “No.” They managed to croak out.

    “So… hm. There’s something you want, and you can only get it from me. And, well, now that I think about it, there might just be something that you have that I want. Now, that sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

    “What is it? Please, anything. A- anything.”

    “That’s what I’d hoped you’d say. Hero, I think you know exactly what I want.”

    “N- No. I don’t.”

    “Of course you do.” The claw pushed their chin up even further, pressing the back of their head against the tile. “I want my kid back.”

    Hero’s eyes widened. They felt bile rise in their throat.

    “I can’t.”

    “Well, then, you’ll die. Easy as that.”

    “W- Wait-”

    “To me, it sounds like a very fair trade, Hero. We’ve had to spend so long watching our friend suffer… slowly rot away. And now, your friends will have to do the same. It’ll be easier for you, though. Your eyes will melt out of your skull far before the real gross stuff happens.”

    Hero gulped, feeling their throat press far too close to Hibou’s claws.

    “Is there any other way?”

    “Hmm… No. I don’t think so. Here’s my final offer, right now: You bring me my kid back. They’ll know where to find me. Then, I give you the antidote. Either that, or I cut your head off, here and now. I’ll even mail it back to your HQ, just as a little gift.”

    “I-”

    Hero felt their chest shudder. The sweat dripping from their forehead had long since dampened their hair. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Just some recon. Just a simple mission.

    But…

    “Okay. I accept.”

    “Good.”

    The pressure lifted almost immediately, finally allowing Hero to once again breathe. They scrambled to their feet, and were almost halfway out of the abandoned platform when they heard Hibou yell from behind:

    “The rash should start in about twelve hours! Just so you know!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It was the nature of a hunter to keep trophies of those that they had killed.

    Of course, not in the wild. In the wild, animals were simply content to fill their bellies. The only trophy needed of their hunting was the fact that they were still well and alive.

    Humans, however, did not have such a luxury. Survival was not a prize to be shown off. So, other methods had to be found. Trophies had to be taken. 

    Taken and displayed.

    No one questioned the scarf that Hero had wrapped tightly about their neck, despite the fact that it was the dead of summer. They had no time to question it. The other inhabitants of the Headquarters of the Heroes’ Organization had their own duties to complete, and not a second to spare in completing them.

    So, Hero found no difficulty in walking through the front doors, every step they took threatening to aggravate the already agonizing wound on their shoulder. 

    After a few steps, they found themself in the center of the entrance lobby, legs stiffened. Hibou’s words echoed in their mind, sharper than their blades, as their head tipped upwards. Their gaze raised to the trophy room.

    That was what everyone called it, anyways. It wasn’t so much of a room as much as it was a glass cylinder, sticking out from the railing of the upper floor. On first seeing it, cadets often panicked, fearing that it would fall at any moment. It appeared simply that precarious, even though it was, supposedly, practically indestructible. Even the glass itself was rated to withstand nuclear attack.

    There was a reason for that.

    The cylinder was rather large, maybe 20 feet in diameter. However, the vast majority of it was taken up by chains-- four of them, one from each side. Heavy iron things, each link likely too heavy to be lifted on its own. The four chains all converged at one point in the center.

    The trophy.

    Villain wasn’t a particular strong person. They may have been before their capture, but any strength they had had been long since drained away. They weren’t particularly tall, to begin with, but from the angle, they looked miniscule.

    The iron collar around their neck, resting heavily on their shoulders and collarbone, was the center point of the chains. Each hooked onto one side of the collar.

    Villain’s seated position pulled the chains practically completely taut, the weight of iron resting completely and totally on their neck. The pressure would have been less had they stood, but they had stopped doing that a long time ago.

    The grey cotton prisoner uniform had about as much color to it as their face.

    Hero couldn’t say they knew the story of Villain’s capture, nor what had warranted it. The trophy room had been there as long as they had been part of the organization. They supposed it was odd, just how quickly they had gotten used to it. The trophy room and the trophy it held were simply a part of HQ.

    If Villain were to disappear for a second, everyone in the building could and would notice it. 

    Hibou’s kid… Of course, they were truly related. They seemed about the same age. But the fondness with which those horrid villains spoke about their friend…

    Hero shook their head. If they kept acting like this, they’d get dragged to the infirmary with a thermometer shoved in their mouth in an instant. They began forward again, headed towards the staging room.

    They didn’t have any missions scheduled for the day, not that they knew of at least, and they were glad for that. Still, they had their unofficial duty, preparing the other heroes for their missions. 

    The staging room sat behind a pair of steel doors, requiring a retina scan to pass through, which Hero passed easily. The doors slid open as they stepped through, already feeling a dozen pairs of eyes lock to them. 

    Colloquially, the place was often referred to as the locker room, both literally and as a joke. Lockers lined the walls, while benches filled the rest, except for at the very front, where a pair of tables were well stocked with snacks, drinks, and basic medical supplies.

    After a second, most of the heroes looked down, having been satisfied that there was no threat. The only one that kept their head up was Teammate, who quickly waved Hero over. They obliged without thinking, sitting next to them on their bench. 

    “What’s up?” Hero questioned. Teammate didn’t respond for a moment, as they were pulling a sweater off over their head. When they were finished, they replied:

    “Eh, I’m good. What’s with the scarf?”

    “‘Tis called fashion.”

    “Fair enough.”

    “Where are you headed out to?”

    “Patrolling a hospital, they had a threat or something. You?”

    “I don’t do missions.” They did their best to accompany it with a smile.

    “You did yesterday, didn’t you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “How’d that go?’

    “Eh, it was fine. Spying missions are boring.”

    “There’s no lie there. Anyways, um, when I was fighting yesterday I kinda got this cut-”

    “Where?”

    “Right here, on my leg.”

    Teammate leaned down, rolling up one of their pant legs to knee height. Sure enough, across their shin, a wicked scar carved its red mark. Hero hardly thought about it as they placed a hand on the wound.

    A green glow emanated from their palm, flowing and wrapping around the injured leg. The wound’s ragged edges solidified with scar tissue, before knitting themselves together.

    It was so simple. A grievous wound, dealt with in an instant.

    Of course, that was all they could do. Healing powers weren’t magic, not really. They couldn’t bring back the dead. They could only accelerate what the body already had the ability to do. A cold? Gone in a second? A biopoison?

    Well, they couldn’t bring back the dead.

    The wound finished its knitting, and Hero withdrew their hand. Teammate offered a quick smile, speaking:

    “Thanks so much, see ya’ later!”

    Before running off. Off on a mission. Off doing something important.

    Something good.

    Hero slumped forward on the bench, feeling a horrible exhaustion overtake them. When the call for their help came, they weren’t exactly surprised. It was quick, short, simply:

    “Is Hero here? I need Hero.”

    They raised their head, expecting to see a cadet who had hit their arm or something.

    Instead, standing halfway in the doorway, face a mask of panic, stood a person in a lab coat. They clutched themself, arms around their chest, trembling visible from halfway across the room. They met Hero’s gaze.

    “Come on, come on. Quickly, please.”

    There was nothing in their voice but panic. Even urgence was drowned out by sheer fear. Hero was on their feet in an instant, on the heels of the doctor who was moving at the same speed. They ran, together, all the way to the medical wing, on the other side of the floor.

    From there, they moved along a small catwalk, leading to-

    Hero didn’t even look up to realize the destination until they were already there.

    The only access to the trophy room was a small, horribly narrow catwalk. A horde of doctors was already flooding it, but they moved out of Hero’s way without question. The first doctor stopped in front of the door to the glass cylinder, which was sealed with just about every type of lock known to man.

    “They’re unresponsive.” The explanation was quick, curt. “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “What?”

    “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “I-”

    “Here, here, I-”

    “Why do I need a hazmat suit!”

    “It’s not safe in there, you can’t go in without one.”

    Hero’s gaze darted to the interior of the cylinder. Half of the chain had gone taut, while the other two were slack, on account of the fact that Villain had slumped over, all their weight supported only by the collar around their neck. In the little visible skin that the collar revealed, horrible red marks could be gleaned.

    “They look like they’re dead.” They whispered in horror. “Why do I need a hazmat suit?”

    “Their powers, they’ll hurt you.”

    “Even when they’re unconscious?”

    “Well, no, but-”

    Hero’s hands latched onto one of the padlocks, straining against it, trying to pull the metal apart. It did nothing, of course. They didn’t have superstrength. But it simply felt like the right thing to do.

    Eventually, someone handed them a key, then another, and another after that, until every lock on the door was opened. They swung it open, leaping inside, heart in their ears. Every panicked beat sent a new shock of diseased pain through their shoulder.

    Ducking and stepping over chains, they maneuvered until they were at Villain’s side. Their first thought was to check for a pulse-- it was weak, but there.

    They gritted their teeth.

    Hero was going to save Hibou’s kid, and by god, neither of them were going to die.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Dress Up (Ethan x MC)

Summary: On Halloween night, Ethan gets a big surprise

A/N: Okay so this was the tooth rotting fluff I was talking about earlier this week. 

A/N 2: I haven’t written something this short in years. Issa miracle

A/N 3: Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

~v~

The words on the paper in front of Ethan start to blur together the longer he stares at the page. He’s been at the hospital for nearly 18 hours and it’s finally starting to have an effect on him, the exhaustion finally creeping in.

It’s been a long shift. He put in some hours in the free clinic on top of helping with his patient for the diagnostics team, and dealt with a particularly exhausting meeting with a few other department heads. On top of the usual business, it’s Halloween, and the holiday has never bode well for the hospital. By the time midnight rolls around, the ER is typically packed with college students and other young 20-somethings that have gotten way too drunk, started fights, and injured themselves.

His cell phone rings and he reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve it. His mood instantly perks up when he sees ‘Naomi R’ flash across the screen accompanied by a picture of his wife’s smiling face.

It takes him mere seconds to answer the phone, balancing it delicately between his shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

“Hi handsome,” Naomi greets back.

The cheeriness in her voice cheers him up slightly. While it’s been less than a day, he’s missed the sound of her voice. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“My job,” Ethan deadpans.

“Obviously smarty-pants. Are you working hard or hardly working?”

“I'm always working hard,” Ethan insists. “I’m trying to prepare myself for how busy the ER is going to be once the sun goes down. I hate Halloween.”

“You hate everything.”

“I hate pointless consumer holidays,” Ethan says. “Especially ones that promote candy and alcohol consumption.”

“Oh, so all the fun ones,” Naomi teases. “Where are you? Are you in the office?”

“Yes, I’m taking a break right now.”

“Perfect. Open the door.”

“Open the–” Ethan looks up, intrigued. He can’t make out any figures on the other side of the door, the frosted glass not doing him any favors. Either his lovely wife had food delivered for him, or she’s pulling some sort of Halloween trick on him. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise, so open the door.”

Deciding to play along, Ethan gets up from his huge leather chair and in a few quick strides, he’s on the other side of the room, opening the door. Looking straight ahead he doesn’t immediately see anyone standing outside. He should’ve known this was some prank of hers.

“Hi, daddy!”

The tiny voice cuts through the otherwise silent hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan sees a tiny blur practically flying towards him. The small figure collides with him with a soft thud, wrapping around him tightly.

“Oof!”

Chuckling to himself, Ethan glances down at the 3 year old clutching his pant legs like a life raft. “You are very strong for a toddler.”

“Valentina Marie Ramsey, what have I told you about running away from me!” Naomi’s voice is what captures Ethan’s attention as she speed-walks down the hall in an effort to make it to the office.

Ethan looks her up and down, confused. She’s wearing her work clothes, a simple blouse, pencil skirt and her white coat, as well as her purse and a plastic bag from CVS hanging off of her shoulder. Naomi isn’t supposed to be working today and she never dresses this formally in their casual life outside of work. “Did you take a shift?”

“Daddy, look, we're doctors because it’s Halloween!” Valentina says, garnering her dad’s attention. 

The couple had given up on picking a costume for Valentina over a week ago, as the precocious toddler wasn’t good at picking one thing and sticking to it. In the past month, she’s wanted to be a pirate, a bear, a fairy, a princess, a princess fairy, and Baby Shark.

Ethan looks down at her and sees she has on a white coat of her own, one that is entirely too big for her which only makes her look that much more adorable. He smiles at her. “You make a very cute doctor, my darling.”

“Mommy says doctors are supposed to be very smart, not cute,” Valentina corrects, and while she’s already the spitting image of her mother, she sounds just like her too. She’s just as stubborn and argumentative.

“You’re the smartest 3 year old I know,” Ethan says honestly. As if a child born to him and Naomi would be anything but.

“You promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

“We were just coming by to show off our costumes, and to grab my doctor’s bag,” Naomi says. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss onto Ethan’s lips, one he doesn’t let end to quickly. Wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, he pulls her in closer to deepen the kiss. 18 hours is far too long to go without her.

The kiss is broken up by Valentina aggressively wedging herself between the two of them. “No kissing.”

Naomi pulls away with an eye roll. “Okay, okay.” Leaving the doorway, Ethan moves backwards and allows them inside the office. Naomi instantly goes behind Ethan’s desk and grabs her physician’s bag. She usually doesn’t carry it unless the diagnostics team has to make a house call, and she empties it, making it easier for Valentina to carry around and use it as a candy bag. Before she hands it over, she empties the plastic bag she’s holding, a box of pink band-aids, popsicle sticks (aka tongue depressors), a roll of stickers, and a pair of small reading glasses fall onto the table.

Ethan watches as Naomi puts the final touches on Valentina’s costume. “Why the glasses?”

“Because you wear glasses,” Valentina answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ethan raises an eyebrow in question, not understanding the point Valentina is trying to make. He turns to Naomi for further clarification.

“Val didn’t want to be any old doctor,” Naomi says. “She wanted to be...you.”

“Mommy said I can wear your big doctor coat!” Valentina exclaims.

And that’s when Ethan notices she is in fact wearing his spare white coat; Dr. Ethan Ramsey, M.D., F.A.C.P., stitched into it underneath Edenbrook’s logo.

While he already thought his three year old dressing up as a doctor was a sight to behold, something inside his chest warms as the thought of her wanting to be dressed up as him. Her entire world is comprised of doctors, but she wants to be a mini him.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent until Valentina tugs on his hand. “Are you okay, daddy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Ethan assures her with a smile. He crouches down so they’re able to look each other eye-to-eye. “Daddy is just very happy that you want to wear my coat, that’s all.” Valentina does a spin for him, spurred on by the positive affirmation and Ethan looks up, catching Naomi’s eye. “She wants to be me, not you.”

“Whatever. She looks like me, so when people see us together, she’ll automatically assume she’s dressed up as me.”

“But you and I both know the real intent. You know, I think your costume is missing something.” Reaching around his neck, Ethan takes off his stethoscope and drapes it around her instead. “There. Now you make a perfect Ethan Ramsey.”

“So now I have to make you feel better,” Valentina says. Dramatically, she places her hand on Ethan’s forehead, as if she’s taking his temperature. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Ethan asks.

“You have a boo-boo,” she replies matter-of-factly. “But I can make it all better.” With some help from her mother, Valentina manages to open the box of band-aids. She sticks one on her dad’s cheek, just above his mustache, and follows that up by kissing his cheek. “There! How do you feel?”

“I feel much better,” Ethan says. “Thank you for being such a good doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” She then shoves a big Hello Kitty sticker into the palm of Ethan’s hand. “And you get a sticker for being good.”

“Even better.” Ethan tugs on one of Valentina’s curls, earning a giggle.

A few more minutes pass, with Naomi and Ethan snapping as many pictures as they possibly can and Valentina putting a few more band-aids on her parents.

The door opens and Baz comes in this time, eyes downcast as he’s staring at a file. “Hey Ethan, Dr. Banerji wanted to–” he stops short, laughing as he zeroes in on the bright pink band-aids covering Ethan. “That is quite the look you got going for yourself, Ethan.”

“I’ll have you know that my lovely doctor here put these bandages on me.”

Baz’s grin turns into a wide smile as he takes in Valentina’s appearance. “Well aren’t you the cutest doctor I’ve ever seen, Teeny!”

“I’m not a cute doctor, I’m a smart doctor, Uncle Baz,” Valentina practically growls.

“I apologize for the mistake.”

Naomi glances at the large clock hanging behind Ethan’s desk. “Okay, Val, we have to go so we can get some candy before it gets too dark. Say bye-bye to daddy.”

Valentina wraps her tiny arms around Ethan’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Bye daddy. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

As Naomi gathers up all of their things, Valentina tells him all about how she can’t wait to show off her costume and get candy. It was her first time trick-or-treating, as Naomi and Ethan decided it was better to wait until she was a bit older before participating in the holiday. 

Her excitement is palpable and Ethan can’t help but to feel excited too. And while it’s true he’s no fan of Halloween, the thought of not witnessing it through his daughter’s eyes makes his chest tight. “How long do you plan on taking her around?”

“An hour,” Naomi answers. “I think that appropriate enough time for a 3 year old, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Ethan turns to Baz. “Do you think you can hold down the fort for an hour?”

Baz shrugs. “Sure. But only if you bring me back a Reese’s peanut butter cup.”

“That can be arranged.” Ethan stands up, his arms still firmly secured around Valentina. “Come on, Dr. and Dr Ramsey, we have some trick or treating to do.

~v~

Tags: @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @bluebellot @kaavyaethanramsey @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[borkthemork]

I'd like to partake in these drabble requests! How ;bout something a bit less sad, maybe a reunion between Sasha, Anne and Marcy after the latter is completely free from...whatever her situation ends up being in season 3. Assume it's possession.

Her first waking moments were of tented ceiling.

Her first waking moments were welcomed with chills, a cocooned warmth, words clogged in her throat.

And if Marcy was told that she would be here, watching one of her best friends rest by her bedside — hand tightly wrapped around hers — she wouldn’t have believed them. In the faint light, where her lungs took in fresh air than the stuffed artificial, it had all felt like a dream.

A crazy, crazy, fantastic dream.

Marcy didn’t stir a muscle. At least, not any that could wake Anne up. Her thoughts stirred into endless questionnaire; they trailed off into tangents as her eyes stared dead-on above her, listening in on the distant chirps of birds, the rustle of leaves (?), at how the world around her grew focused — more observable.

She rested under a tent. A small tent that hinted of pine, cedar, the forest bog. One side was of intricately-pitched tarp, the other supported by solid mountain wall. The rock looked igneous, too; the place they rested in must’ve been the result of numerous millenniums in volcanic activity, a far cry from what she knew of the beautiful mountain peaks or the changing Newtopian tides.

Newtopia.

Newtopia...

Her head ached considerably. Man, everything that happened back in the castle wasn’t just a terrible nightmare. The scars on her palms proved it. So did the sleepy countenance rested next to her, snoring her heart out, folded arms her makeshift pillow.

Anne didn’t have the old school attire on. After seeing her wear that garb for days, Marcy had gotten used to the idea that the accoutrements were permanent. But now, outlined well in the filtered sunlight, Anne looked good. More clean, taken care of.

She had went home, reconciled with her family, and chose to come back.

That force of nature that duked Marcy out in the engine rooms until Sasha carried her away? That was all Anne.

Anne and Sasha sacrificed a lot to get back here; Marcy barely made it out herself. Why they chose her after all this time baffled her. And it pained her head more than it should’ve.

Marcy remained quiet. Her hands fumbled constantly with Anne’s hand, caressing her knuckles with a thumb, and hoped that the girl dreamt fantastic dreams. Because dang it, she needed those good dreams.

“Hey Anne, Grime says that the mushrooms rotted overnight so the only thing I got is this gravy thing, you chill with that?” The tarp entrance shifted before Marcy could utter a word. A plate in hand, Sasha entered without fanfare, and almost dropped the food entirely at the sight of her. “Holy shit, you’re awake!”

Marcy put on a smile. Her face hurt, a bit achey from having a whole demon amalgam pulled straight out her. But that didn’t stop her from doing jazz hands. “Surpriisee!”

Anne shot up. “I’m awake I’m awake, what we doin’?” Her eyes darted to Marcy’s. “Mar-mar!”

Marcy squeaked when Sasha rushed up to embrace her.  “Oh my God, you’re okay. Thank goodness.”

It wasn’t a tight embrace, thank frog, but even the slightest pressure left her ribs to buzz and prick.

Didn’t help that Anne hopped onto the hug train too, or the fact she was sobbing into Marcy’s tunic with the tightest grip imaginable.

“G-guys!” Marcy gasped. “I missed you too, but I can—I can’t—!”

Sasha pulled herself and Anne away. “Woah, woah. Right. Forgot what the doc said. Let’s give her some space.”

Anne did the same, rubbing her eyes. “Forgot about that. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

Marcy smiled at them. It still hurt, whatever was burning inside of her hurt a lot, but seeing them all together made her heart leap pleasantly from her chest. She spread her arms wide open, giggling all the while. “It’s alright. A hug wouldn’t hurt. Softer this time, though, I don’t know if I’m going through internal bleeding or what.”

“In that case, let’s not.” Anne looked at her, brows knitted tightly in concern. “You’re really messed up right now.”

Marcy frowned. “I’m positive. Or am I missing something here?”

“They told us you’re gonna be aching all over when you woke up and the latest medical supplies ain’t coming in until uh,” she pursed her lips. “Until we actually find a functional portal back to Earth.”

“Huh, well I’m pretty okay right no—” Pain splintered her chest. Marcy lurched forward, clutching hard at her abdomen. “Okay, okay, forget what I said! Ow!”

The discomfort receded as Anne rushed beside her. Didn’t help that Marcy was shaking, or the fact she was way too sweaty about this. Yep, there was some internal wounds going on. This wasn’t good.

Sasha sighed. “If we don’t defeat the king, we’re not gonna be able to get you the care you need. You’ll practically be bedridden unless we find another way home.”

Looking between them, it was at this moment that Marcy realized how absolutely exhausted these two looked. Not only did they harbor eye bags and reeked of sweat, but their articulations grew sluggish, languid. The battle between them had ended, but the future seemed never-ending, hard to comprehend, and the more Marcy thought about it her gut churned unpleasantly.

No time for guilt, though. If she wanted a part in the battle, she needed to get herself healed. And the only way to get healed now was through...

“What about healing magic?” Marcy asked.

Sasha blinked. “Huh?”

“I got a friend in Wartwood who utilizes in dark magic, all the way from rejuvenation to eldritch summoning,” Marcy said. “Maddie. She’ll be able to send us some healing if she’s still around here somewhere!“

At the frog’s name, Sasha’s face tightened more. Fear pooled into Marcy’s chest, quick and fast. Did Maddie get hurt? Was she captured? How long had Marcy been out?

Much to her relief, Sasha responded quick. “Well, Wartwood’s pretty much looking for new places to set up camp. We’ll not see her until a day or so, but—” She rubbed her chin. “—it sounds crazy enough to work.”

“I saw her rob some creepy dude’s candy supply once with a witch duel,” Anne added. “Other than teaching us a friendship lesson, she’s pretty chill. If we need supernatural backup, then Maddie’s the frog with the plan.”

Sasha smacked Anne on the back. “Alright then. You ready to kick some robot butt?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!”

Marcy was surprised to find herself in another hug. Not tight this time, but just comfortable, just right. There were still tears, awkward laughter, promises that the two would come back shortly to her even as her heart ached that they wouldn’t, but in these moments Marcy embraced them as if the past ceased meaning.

Reunion was far from perfect, but Marcy preferred to talk when her ribs didn’t ache.

Or when the world wasn’t close to dying.

[thelargefrye]

BEGIN. song mingi

── summary. after an accident leaving mingi in the hospital, he wakes up to with no memories, including your four year relationship.

── roles. amnesiac!mingi, s/o!reader

── genre. angst, amnesia, lovers to stranger (by force),

── warning. language, allusion of an accident

── developer’s note. i wrote this back in 2017 (oof) and originally it was a jungkook thing that i was attempting to turn into a story, but it didn’t happen. this was the prologue/first chapter of the story and so i figured why not turn it into ateez blurbs and share them instead of letting them rot in the google docs.

“i’m sorry i don’t know who you are?” mingi said as he looked at you with an apologetic face. you mouth opens slightly as your eyes widen for a few seconds before you quickly compose yourself. you looked down at your feet before looking over that the window. basically everywhere but at mingi. he watched you with careful eyes as he notice how distraught you look. “what’s your name?”

you met his wide brown eyes that you love so much and try to hold back what feels like tears. damnit pull yourself together, y/n! you thought to yourself as you took a deep breath before speaking to him. “y/n.”

“y/n,” your name rolls off his tongue so smoothly like it has done a thousand times before this moment. the only difference is that he doesn’t remember any of the precious moment. “i like it,” he says giving you his famous bunny smile. heartache train hope it has room for one more. “i guess you already know my name, huh?” his head falls to the side in a curious manner and you couldn’t help but notice how his brown locks bounced in that moment.

you nod in reply to him and nothing else. he stares at you with a look like he is trying to figure you out. he’s probably trying to figure out who you are to him, but is shy to ask or something. he took in your whole appearance. from your messily combed hair, to your wrinkled up shirt and oversized jacket, the stains on your pants, and down to your untied shoelaces. she’s a very messy person, he thinks to himself. “so… how do we know each other?”

shit! fuck my life! of course he was gonna ask why am i acting so surprised? what do i tell him? just tell him we are in a relationship together? 

“um… well we are boyfriend and girlfriend,” you said softly as you look away from him in order to not see his reaction. to be honest you’re scared to know what type of reaction he would have. you’re scared because he wouldn't remember all of your moments together that you did. all the tight hugs, from soft and gentle to rough and passionate kisses, and all the nights you spent wrapped up together in a blanket on the couch watching iron man for the thousandth time. you don’t want to look at him because looking at him means accepting the truth that he doesn’t remember any of it. will you have to start over from the very beginning?

“oh,” he sounds surprised, “i’m sorry.” you look at him with wide eyes. “i’m sorry for not remembering. i can see you’re hurting and trying to hide it from me. please don’t hide it from me.” you take a few careful steps to him and he watches you as you do and you sit down on the edge of the bed. mingi notices the dark circles under your eyes and they seem a little bloodshot from the lack of sleep – he doesn’t know that you waited by his bedside for the past week for him to wake up. 

he doesn’t know how the nurse would come in and find you drifting off to sleep and would give you blanket, but you quickly got over your tiredness. why? for him. he doesn’t know about how you cried for three days straight because you were scared that you would lose him. he didn’t know that your fear came true, but not the way you thought it would.

he looks from your tired eyes down to your intertwined fingers and noticed the two rings stacked on top of each other on your index finger. he reached over to grab your hand and you jumped at the sudden contact. you soon relaxed when he placed your hand, the one with the rings, on his large one to look at the rings. they seemed familiar to him. 

“they’re our couple rings. we got them after being together for a year,” you told him and he looked up at you with his innocent eyes. you took your hand away from his and slipped the bigger sized ring off your finger and then slipped it onto to his index finger. he stared at it for a few moments before looking at you and smiling at you.

“how long have we been together?”

“four years.”

“that’s a long time.”

“yeah it is. we started dating our second year of high school and we’ve been together ever since. I had transferred into your class and our homeroom teacher assigned you to me. to help me around and make me feel welcomed. you were so cute that I was nervous about making a good impression. you were so nice to me, and it made my heart flutter.” you smiled fondly recalling the memory. “your friends teased you thinking i was your girlfriend. you blushed so hard that i couldn’t help but laugh. you pouted and scolded me for laughing at you,” you added with a laugh.

mingi looked at your smiling face before smiling a little himself. he leaned his head forward and onto your shoulder as he slowly went to hold your hand with his. “i want to remember. please help me remember,” he says in a pleading voice and you faintly hear it crack as he presses his face into your shoulder.